#We know Mitch scratch as his throat a lot we see it + his throat is red as fuck around his cyberware cause of it

[pinkyjulien]

Valentin & Mitch | 579/?? 💋🧡

[cinemastyles-backup]

Live in Studio

Summary: Y/n is a photographer that was chosen to photograph Harry's live studio session

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language,heavy flirting, studio sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, scratching biting, oral, fingering, general filth

My original CinemaStyles-blog has been terminated, so I created a new one.

HS1 HARRY

I pack up my camera and make sure I have everything that I need before I head out. I walk to the bathroom and give myself one last look over before I smirk and shake my head.

I walk out and grab my bag, keys and text Harry.

Me: Hey I'm on my way.

I walk out to my car and get in, setting my bag gently on the seat.

Harry: Can't wait to see you. Drive safe.

I bite my lip and stare at my screen before I decide to just set my phone down.

I've known Harry for a while now, but I'm still honored to be his photographer for his live studio session. His energy is unmatched and I know we'll have lot of fun today.

——

I pull up to the studio and park. I grab my phone and smile as I reread Harry's text.

Me: I'm here. Getting my stuff around and I'll be in.

I get out and walk around to the passenger side when suddenly I feel a presence approaching.

"Need any help?" Harry asks leaning against my car door. I look over at him and smile, "I think I'm good, thanks." I bend over to grab my bag and double check to make sure nothing fell out.

"Nice view you're giving me, y/n."

I look at him over my shoulder and smile, "Only for you." I wink and laugh as he raises his eyebrows a couple times.

"So." I lean back up and look at him, "Am I just taking pictures? Pictures and videos? What's the plan?" I shut my car door and Harry shrugs, "Whatever feels right to you, love."

I tilt my head slightly, fighting off a very NSFW comment.

"Okay." I smile and he shakes his head, "You were thinking what I was thinking." I roll my eyes, "Sure I was, Styles." He steps in front of me and looks down at me, "I want you to hang back after the session. You know, so we can go over the pictures and videos you take."

I nod slowly, "Mm, okay. Sounds like I can do that."

"Good. Good. Now let's get in there before I keep them waiting any longer." He opens the door for me and his hand lands on my lower back as he follows closely behind me through the door.

"Harry." I smile. He quickly slides his hand down and grabs my ass before running to open the other door while laughing.

"Harold!" I smirk as I glare at him. He smiles, "Can't help it." He opens the door for me and I walk in, greeting everyone.

I've already met everyone in this room, a few times actually.

"Alright. Who's ready to rock and roll?" Harry asks as he claps his hands.

He grabs his guitar and I grab my camera. I start to snap pictures as he strums, closing his eyes to focus more.

I check the picture and I look back up and he's looking at me with a smile on his face. I quickly snap his picture and stick my tongue out at him.

He shakes his head laughing and walks up to the mic, getting ready to sing.

I make my way around the studio, snapping pictures of the band, Harry, the instruments when not in use, when in use, everything.

I take a video of Harry's hands as he plays his guitar.

Fuck, his hands turn me on. I clear my throat and look down at the photo, biting my lip as I rewatch it.

"Oh for fucks saaaaaaake." Harry yells. I look up and laugh, "What the hell?" He laughs and walks over to me. He presses his body against mine as his hand brings my camera up, "That's a good shot of Mitch, don't you think?"

He looks up and motions for Mitch to come over. He shows him the picture and he nods, "Nice, nice."

"Thanks." I take my camera back, "Get to work, Styles." I tease and take a picture of the studio.

"Maybe later we can put that camera to a better use." He whispers into my ear. I can feel my cheeks getting hot.

I don't speak because I know if I try to, I'll just babble like an idiot.

I look up at him and nod. He smirks and walks back over to his mic. He chats with his band mates for a few minutes.

He starts to snap quickly and laughs. I whistle to get his attention and he looks back at me, still snapping, and smiles.

I look at the picture and smile.

They continue to play songs, and joke around and I continue to do what I've been doing, taking pictures and casually flirting with Harry.

"Will you hold me tight and don't let go." Harry sings in a high pitched, almost unrecognizable tone. I laugh and shake my head.

——

"Alright. That's a wrap for today." Harry claps, "Thank you all for being here today." He gives his little I'm grateful for you speech, "Thank you."

I sit down on the couch and click through the pictures. Admiring how good Harry looks in all of them.

"Admiring how good I look, are we?" He sits down next to me.

"Um, no." I lie. He stares at me, leaning forward slowly until I look at him, "Fine." I sigh, "I was." He smirks, "I couldn't keep my eyes off of you either today."

"I had to look at you." I tease with a laugh. He laughs and lays his arm behind me, leaning over to rest his chin on my shoulder, "Let's have a look, shall we?"

I grab my laptop from my bag and pop the card from my camera into it.

I focus on my screen, making sure to click on the right one, "Yes Harold?" I turn my head slightly to him.

"Nothing, I'm just.. admiring how beautiful you are when you're focused."

His words make my cheeks hot and I smile, "Thanks?" I smile and shake my head slightly, looking back at the computer screen.

"Wait." He lays a finger on my screen, "What was that?"

"What was what?" I question even though I know exactly what he's talking about.

His hands. The video I took of his hands while he plays guitar.

He leans closer and a smirk grows on his face, "My hands, huh?" I close my eyes and nod slowly, "Mhm." He chuckles, "Really?"

I look over at him, "Yeah. Yeah. I love your hands now can we move past that?" I click the down arrow a few times and try to keep my composure.

"You know.." Harry moves hair off my neck and lets it fall down my back, "We can look at this a little late.." his finger traces a line up and down the side of my neck.

I bite my lip and all in one quick motion, my lap top is set on the floor and I'm on top of Harry. My lips on his and his hands gripping my hips.

I slowly grind against him, feeling his already semi-hard cock grow harder.

"Fuck." He groans lowly against my lips.

I kiss down his neck and nibble gently. "Y/N." He gasps out sliding a hand up my arm. "You like that?" I whisper in an innocent tone.

He looks at me, his eyes growing dark with hunger. He pulls me in and kisses me. His hands slide down and pull my shirt up and off my body perfectly.

His mouth connects with the top of my chest, leaving little bite marks all over.

"Harry." I whimper tangling my fingers in his hair. He looks up at me, chin rested on my chest, "You like that?" He mocks me.

I'm too into it to care, "So much."

He smirks and continues to do it as he unbuttons my jeans. I tilt my bead back as he slides his hand in between my skin and the fabric of my underwear.

His lips linger and gently brush my skin as he gently rubs my clit in small circles.

I grip his shoulders and look down at him.

"Feel good?" He smirks, "looks like it does."

I nod, "Y-yes."

He slips his hand out and tugs my jeans. I lay back and he pulls them off. I go to lay my head back but he taps my leg once time, "Uh-huh. Watch."

I nod and lean up on my elbows, watching him slide a hand up and down my leg. He pushes my legs apart and I watch as he slides his fingers up and down my slit, his fingers shining with my slick.

"Have you been this wet the whole time?" He asks kissing my knee, "You're soaked." He slips a finger in. My eyes stay focused on his hand, slowly pumping in and out of me.

I let out a moan and fight to close my eyes.

He adds another finger and his rings push against my skin, "You feel so good around my fingers, baby." He leans down and sucks on my clit, causing my legs to jolt.

I lay a hand on his head and tilt my head back, letting out a loud moan.

"Harry.. I-I.." he groans against me, lips still attached to me. He moves his fingers faster, building me up to cum quicker.

I squeeze my thighs against his head, gasping as I clench around his fingers, "Fuck. Fuck. Shit." I pant, "Harry."

He pulls his fingers out and brings them up to my mouth. I instantly open and wrap my lips around them, licking as much of myself off as I can.

He watches me intently with his lips slightly parted.

I lean my head back and smile at him. He moves up and slowly slides his hand around my neck, squeezing gently.

He kisses me, taking my lower lip between his teeth. His bite gradually getting harder along with the tightness of his hand around my neck.

I let out a small whimper and he brushes his nose against my cheek, "I'm going to make you feel so good."

He leans up and slips his black T-shirt off his body. He undoes his jeans and pushes them down. He spits into his hand and locks with with me as he pumps his cock a few times.

He sits down and nods for me to come over to him.

I get up and straddle him, slowly sinking down onto him. I let out a moan and rest my head against his, "You had me thinking about this all day." His hand makes it way to my neck again and his other lays on the center of my back.

"Been thinking about it since the last time we fucked." I smirk and start to move my hips, rocking and rolling then forward and back. Moaning at how fucking good he feels inside of me.

"That's it baby. Use me." He lays his head back, eyes still on me. His hand grips at the skin on my back and he eases up on his grip on my throat. He runs a finger up and down my neck as I fuck myself on him.

"Fuck, Harry." I moan look down at him. He bites his lip and his hands travel to my hips, gripping them as I bounce.

"Fuck, yeah baby, that's it." He moans while thrusting his hips up to meet mine. I grab the back of the couch for leverage and push myself all the way down on him as I clench.

"You're so hot when you cum, y/n." He pulls me down and kisses me, "Switch?"

I nod and he lifts me off of him. I'm still on my knees, leaning on the back of the couch when Harry grabs my hips and slaps a hand against my cheek.

"My beautiful little slut." He whispers as he drags a finger down my spine.

He slides in, agonizingly slow.

I rest my head against the couch, moaning as he thrust, "Harry. Harry. Fuck." I throw my head back and meet my body with each of his thrusts.

"Fuck, you always take me so good." His thumbs run my hips, "So fucking good."

I reach down between my legs, circling my clit with my fingers.

"Fuck, that's so hot." He groans, "Fuck."

"M'gonna cum again." I gasp, "Fuck. Fuck." I grab the back of the couch with both hands, letting my head hang down between my arms.

I let out a scream of pleasure as I cum around him again.

He tries to hold out but his thrusts get sloppy fast, and he pulls out, letting go onto my back and ass.

He stands there for a few moments and goes to grab one of the small towels that are rolled up on the shelf.

"Don't move." He says before wiping up the mess he made.

I slowly roll my body over and lay on the couch, looking up at him with a smile.

"What?" He asks gathering our clothes.

"You didn't use the camera." I pout.

He shrugs and walks over to me. He leans down, "Looks like we'll have to take it home with us." He smirks and kisses me.

"I guess we will."

——

You can find part two here

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[crowdedimagines]

You’re Breaking My Heart Right Now - Harry Styles

really short angty piece!

If you asked anyone at the table how the topic was brought up, they couldn’t tell you. It came out of nowhere, and now there is no going back. No one can take the words back, as much as they wish they could just to change the tension at the table right now.

Sarah and Mitch are sitting across the table from Harry and I, they are both looking down at their plates pushing it around, surely knowing what argument is coming.

“You two what?” Harry asks, his eyes focused on me, his brows showing just how upset he is. There are few times that I’ve seen him genuinely mad, let alone directed towards me.

“You knew this.” I sigh, “It was a really long time ago.”

I know for a fact that he was informed of this, I brought it up before I even met Harry. Now Harry and I have been dating for a year and a half, and now he’s acting like it’s new information.

“Just hold on a minute, you’re saying that you and Mitch hooked up? I think I would remember something like that.” Harry throws down his fork making me flinch.

It started out as a simple double date. Harry and I going out with two of our best friends, people we’ve gone out with hundreds of times. No one had any idea that it would lead to the demise.

“I told you when it happened.” Mitch reminds him, finally someone on the other half of the table is speaking. He scratches at the back of his neck, clearly not thrilled with the conversation at hand. “It was before I introduced you two. A long time ago”

“You both keep saying a long time. Well how long is a long time?” Harry’s eyes dart between Mitch and I waiting to see who will answer.

“Right after high school, it wasn’t anything. We were drunk and young, and we laughed about it in the morning and never looked back.”

“Drunk and young.” He shakes his head, obviously not thrilled with my reasoning, “You can’t just ignore something like that. How can I just live with that?”

“Ask Sarah, she’s known.” I nod to the girl across from me who is watching us carefully. I have talked with her so much and we’ve grown so close and I know that my past with Mitch doesn’t bother her, “Mitch is never going to be anything more than a friend, for so many reasons. The biggest one being, neither of us has ever wanted each other like that.”

A silence falls over the table and I think for just a second that Harry has calmed. Or at least that he’s taking the time to think things over.

“You guys never did anything again after that?”

“No.”

Mitch and I both answer truthfully. Neither one of us has ever wanted that again. Our relationship is strictly for friendship and it’s killing me that Harry can’t see that.

“And I’m just supposed to believe you after something like this?” His voice growing in volume, it’s as if he can’t even look at me anymore. His gaze is focused now on his plate.

“Jesus christ…” I huff.

“Yeah, sorry it’s going to take me a second to adjust, I didn’t know I was dating someone who just sleeps with whoever whenever they feel like it.” Harry says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, before reaching for his drink.

“You’re joking me.” I throw my napkin down on the table, in complete and utter shock over the man I thought I knew better than myself. Sarah and Mitch both have wide eyes. No one would’ve expected his reaction to be so ugly, especially since he did know, even if he didn’t retain the information. We weren’t hiding anything. No one is trying to hurt him.

“I slept with a friend, when we were drunk, years ago, years before we even met, might I remind you. You think you have the right to insinuate I’m a slut? That I’m easy? I’m sorry, I completely forgot how pure and innocent you are!” I let my voice grow a little louder my own anger increasing, “I totally forgot all the songs you have about having sex with other people! My bad for even having a sex life before we met!”

Sarah lets out a snort at me comment and Mitch bumps her to stop her snicker.

“Sorry.” She apologizes, she clears her throat.

“You’re just okay with this?” Harry asks, looking to Sarah now. “Your boyfriend has slept with his best friend.”

“I’ve slept with people that I felt no feelings for, I trust both of them.” Sarah smiles at both of us. It lightens the weight on my chest knowing that she feels comfortable and I’m not being completely unreasonable. She didn’t have to say that, but it means a lot to me to hear.

I understand that it’s not ideal that Mitch and I have had sex, but I can’t change my past. Harry should know that.

“He’s supposed to be my best mate, and you two kept it from me!” He shakes his head, his glare focusing on Mitch now. He’s never going to be able to get past this. Past the idea of two of the people closest to him are connected. And he can’t do anything to change it.

“We didn’t keep anything from you! Sarah knew, Mitch told you!”

“I don’t even remember that.” He scoffs.

“And that’s my fault, right? You need to get over yourself before I get over you.”

I push my chair back and get up from the table, I throw a fifty dollar bill down on the table, I’m not making anyone at the table pay for my meal, plus it feels like a power move since Harry would normally never even let me attempt something like that.

“You’re breaking my heart right now, Harry.”

I pull out my keys and rip the one to Harry’s house off and throw it down next to his plate without a word. I walk over to give both Mitch and Sarah a kiss on the cheek and tell them I’m sorry for ruining their night. I don’t give Harry a second glance, and he doesn’t follow me out.

After a conversation like that I don’t want him to.

[writingsbychlo]

tea parties | dad!mitch rapp

word count; 14,990

summary; emma rapp loves her dad, and she admires the badass CIA agent that he’s trying to suppress his feelings for, so she does a little meddling.

notes; this is a dad mitch fic, featuring the little girl I made up so long ago, and she is a little miss emma rapp. I adore her, she’s fantastic, and you’re going to love her too.

warnings; reference to injury, reference to death, reference to PTSD.

Mitch’s feet were taking slow and steady steps along the corridor, as a pair of irrationally matched footsteps skipped, walked and jumped along beside him, a small hand wrapped tightly around his own as the nerves in his stomach went haywire over the briefing he had up ahead of him, and the hope that it was nothing too dangerous. He knew he never got called in to talk to Irene unless he was going away to do something big, but he was hoping it wasn't the kind of assignment that made him wonder whether he’d be returning on his own two feet, or in a body bag. 

Crouching down before the elevator doors, the room he needed to be in only a few metres away, he faced the little girl before him, tucking some of the small wisps of hair away behind her ear, fishing around in his pocket for one of the glittery snap-clips he made an effort to always have on him, and internally cheering in victory when he found one. 

Sliding it into her hair to keep the shorter pieces out of her face, he brushed the tip of his finger along the bridge of a familiar nose, one she’d inherited from him, and grinning when her face scrunched up in distaste at the ticklish feeling the action gave her. 

“You gonna’ be good for me?”

“I’ll be on my bestest behaviour, daddy, I promise.” She adjusted the bag on her arm, pulling it down for only a second and placing it on the floor, unzipping the little backpack to root through it, before pulling out the item so wanted, brandishing it to him proudly. A plastic ‘nerf’ gun, loaded with foam bullets as at least three dozen more sat loose and rolling around the bottom of the bag, bright orange foam to match the neon green plastic of the toy, and she waved it excitedly in his face. “Mr Stan say’d that he��d help me practice to shoot things.”

“How very exciting.” He teased sweetly, zipping the bag back up and pulling it onto her arms, letting her push her arms through the straps and hold onto the fake gun in her hands with both hands. “Do you know where Stan is?”

“In the gym.”

He nodded, licking over his lips, checking the time on his watch and hurrying himself along. “And how do you get to the gym?”

“Press the button with ‘three’ on and run all the way to the end of the corridor when the door opens.” He scooped her up, standing up to his full height, balancing his daughter on his hip and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She took his face in her hands, his face crushing a little when plastic pressed into one side, but she pulled his head forwards enough to press a kiss to his forehead, seemingly sensing his nerves and returning the gesture he always gave her when she had nightmares or fears. Tipping his head back up, he dropped her down, pushing the button for the elevator and waiting patiently. “How long is your meeting, daddy?”

“Not long, princess, I’ll be there to get you real soon. We’ll have ice cream tonight, yeah?”

She cheered, her hand held out to him and he tapped his palm against hers in a high five, ruffling her hair as the doors dinged open and he was able to push her instead gently, watching as she pushed the button for the right floor and waved to him as she disappeared from sight.

Mitch paused for a second once she was gone, choking down the fear about what may happen to his daughter, reminding himself that she was wandering around the CIA main building, and that his little girl owned the hearts of almost everyone in the building, so there wasn’t a soul that would let anything happen to him. 

Spinning on his heel before he could change his mind and call the elevator back, and instead pacing the few large strides it took him to reach the meeting room, everyone else seemingly gathered, preparing themselves around the table, and he let out a huff at all of them, not even glancing up at the screens housing the powerpoints and presentations he was going to be seeing. Instead, he got himself a coffee, stirring the wooden stick aggressively through the shitty paper cup that did nothing to stop his hand getting burned if he held it too long, and picking up one of the pastries, squeezing it a little in his fingers to test the softness of it, before placing it into his mouth and holding it there with his teeth as he moved over to the seat reserved for him. 

There was already a brown manilla folder laid out for him, his name on top, and he took the pastry from his mouth, tearing off a chunk and chewing it quickly, before taking a swig of his coffee to wash it down with, wincing when the cheap liquid burned his throat. 

“Okay, Mitch, let's just jump right in.”

He looked up, huffing out as he did and wiping flaky crumbs from his shirt, before opening the first page of the folder and almost gagging at what he saw before him. Piles of bodies, all burned, the photograph clearly showing the smoke coming off of the stack of bodies, charred and fleshy, some dismembered and torn apart, battered and bruised, and he pushed the remainder of the croissant away from his as his stomach churned at the sight. 

“Underground ring of paid fighters, human trafficking, drug empire, it’s all rolled into one. Goods are being traded for bets, every single person so far identified from this pile is a missing person, some going as far back as four years, and there were two more piles.” Turning over the following page, Mitch let out a low whistle as he ran his eyes over the list of names attached to people he’d already  They’re working through people quickly, missing people coming up from all over the world, and he sighed out at the thought. “You’re going in undercover, obviously. We know that there must be a huge list of people adding to this web, with such a quick growth rate and being so well known, word of mouth is travelling fast in a criminal chain, and we need to know who the king-pins are. The next event is tomorrow night.”

“You need me to get kidnapped and put into the next fight by tomorrow night?”

Irene scowled at him, motioning for him to turn over the page, his eyes widened as he took in pictures of all the items that had been traded, everything from raw diamond extracts to people, kidnapped children holding the same worth as the deed rights to mansions, bile once again rising up in his throat, paternal possessiveness crawling in his chest and scratching to be released as he ran his fingers gently over the photograph of a young toddler whom he desperately wished was still alive and well. 

Flipping over the next page, he was equally as shocked to find a new set of false identities to add to his collection placed neatly within the pockets of the folder. A passport, a driving licence, a rendered photo of the look he was going for as well as a basic list of everything his new personality would entail. Picking up the piece of plastic that allowed him to drive a car, he scoffed at the name. “How the fuck do I even pronounce this?”

“It’s Polish. You won’t be doing much talking, if any, you just need to listen and place bets. Observe, photograph, be discreet, and find out who our big bosses are here.”

“So, I’m not fighting?”

“In a gladiator-style ring, fighting to the death with opponents who have probably won a lot of matches already? No, Rapp, you’re not a fighter. You’re a buyer.” She insisted, already sounding fed up with him, and he sneered a little at her, before nodding. 

“What am I supposed to take that’s of such high value?” She nodded to one of the interns beside her, a large cardboard box being lifted that he seemed to struggle to pick up, before he was tipping it out across the table, at least twenty neatly wrapped plastic packages spilling out before him, and he couldn't help the laugh that left his lips, before he was looking towards the other three boxes that she was gesturing to. “Where the fuck did you get that much cocaine?”

“Evidence lock up. A truly useful resource.”

He nodded a little, letting her run through the fact that he’d need to be at the runway for six sharp tomorrow morning, and that everything he needed would already be packed, an agent set to sort his outfit and help test him on everything he needed to know would fly over with him, but other than that, he was running solo. It was no more than a few days worth of work, tops, but he still didn’t like the idea of being away from his daughter for almost a week, and so he couldn't stop his moody huffing and puffing to himself once he’d left the room. 

The journey to finding his daughter was short, and yet he was still equally as irritated when he arrived there, searching for the little girl that ever failed to brighten his day, peering into the room through the windows, and spotting her standing beside his mentor in front of the bullet-riddled targets, as promised, her toy gun in her hands as little orange pellets littering the floor. 

Their focus wasn’t on the targets, however, it was a little further off, in the direction of the boxing bags and the sparring rings, but despite how much he craned his head, he couldn't see what they could, and so he was resigned to simply entering the room to actually find out. Pushing the button on the door to release the magnetic locking, the sounds of punching bags being battered, machines running and several voices in different areas field his ears, the room much cooler than the corridor, the air conditioning keeping it so, and a shiver ran down his spine.

The high-pitched cheering that he recognised as his daughter’s voice called out, and he followed the sound of it, making his way over to where the two people he recognised where standing, watching a lesson go down in the boxing ring, and his breath hitched, feeling as though his soul had physically left his body as his daughter stared up at you with rapt awe. For well over a year now, Mitch had cursed the slight trembles that went along his body and the butterflies that filled his stomach when you were around, because he had bigger responsibilities in his world than dealing with the fact that you somehow managed to render him back to being the same nervous wreck he was in high school as soon as a pretty girl walked past, the same Mitch he’d been in sophomore year before getting his braces off and growing out his buzzcut. 

He was used to pretty girls in little clothing, from high school until now, Mitch has been on various sports teams, and while being a  glorified killer for hire now was a little different to playing college lacrosse, he was used to cheerleaders and gymnasts and dancers surrounding him, tight yoga pants and sports bras and pretty eyes with a firm as and a smirk that made his legs weak. He was used to it, and yet somehow, you had more of an effect on him than the others. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you were by far his superior in the field, or maybe that you were also a terrifying killer that turned him on in some sick way, or maybe it was his lover-boy paternal instinct that flared up every time, because much like everyone else, Emma had you wrapped around her little finger. 

His daughter had spoken to you more than he had, his mind seeming to go blank every time he tried to talk to you, and so he often opted to just ignore you, a trait he was grateful that he could disguise behind the moody and darkened persona he’d built up. It was hard to keep that up, though, when he had to remind himself to close his mouth and stop staring at the way your body moves with grace and elegance in every single extremely well-executed move you used as you continued to take down the two other agents in the out-manned battle while barely breaking a sweat. 

You were incredible. Talented and funny and sweet, while also managing to be brutal and vicious and always successful in a field, every characteristic you had made you perfectly suited for this job, and he was half-convinced Irene had just made you in a lab to work for the CIA.

The first time he’d met you, you were wearing a black tank top and some tight leggings, a look that vaguely reminded him of the Black Widow, and so he’d pegged you as CIA eye-candy, before ever getting a look at your file, and feeling all bt blown away as your record made his look like child's play, his work held up next to your own was the equivalent of holding up one of his daughter's drawings from the fridge door up beside the ‘Mona Lisa’ or ‘Starry Night’. 

He was absolutely certain that you owned a little bit of his heart, even though he refused to acknowledge the jumps in his pulse when you caught his eye, or the way he wanted to reach out and hold your hand every time you got a little too close to him, because he was a grown-ass man, and a father at that, a would have been widower in addition, the little girl he had, having barely even reached the age of one when her mother had died on the holiday Mitch had taken her on to propose, never having gotten to see the event. 

His heart had healed since then, he’d been forced to for his job and for the baby he loved more than anything, but having someone else around to project his feelings onto certainly hadn't hurt. He wasn’t the same man he had been five years ago, though. He was covered with scars and trauma, inside and out, with a chaotic and unpredictable job that many wouldn't understand and he was unable to disclose, and so finding someone else to be with was a hard task that he hadn't had any luck in.

He leaned up against the doorway, watching as his daughter cheered on, grunting a little as she threw her own fists in fake punches, before pulling out his phone for only a moment, taking a short video and catching the sweet moment to save forever, before calling out her name, and watching as her little head whipped around to give him her attention instead.

Little feet were dashing over to him, toy gun discarded with her bag as they leaned against the steps of leading up to the ring, and she launched herself up into the air, faithfully believing he would catch her, barely giving him time to swoop down and grab her, but he managed to. She was energetic and enthusiastic, a trait he recognised from himself, and he adjusted her in his arms, allowing her to crawl across his body like a climbing frame, until he had clambered up onto his shoulders, legs dangling down onto his chest as she held fistfuls of hair he needed or get cut, balancing carefully as he held onto her ankles, a giggle on her lips as he looked out from her new height. 

“I’m bigger than everyone else now.”

“Yes, you are, Em. Are you ready to go?” She gave him a hum in reply, and he crossed the room to his mentor, who was now leaning with his arm folded on the edge of the ring and cheering everyone on, excitedly invested in the match that he was pointedly trying not to look at. Lifting her down from his shoulders, he crouched down to pick up the sparkly unicorn rucksack, putting the gun inside and handing it to her. “Go pick up all your bullets, princess, I’m not buying any more this month if you lose them all.”

“It’s not my fault I can’t find them in the street when we go out!” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, and he tapped her nose with the tip of his finger gently. 

“Shouldn’t shoot them out of the window then, should you?” She pouted, grumbling to herself as she made her way over to perform her cleanup duties, and he stood up to his full height, Stan facing him now. “Should only be gone about a week, not too bad, but I hate leaving Em for more than a few nights.”

“If you give me the number of your sitter, I can check in a few times with them.”

“I don’t have one anymore, she quit after the last one, saying Emma was too much for her’ with all the shit she does.” He frowned, remembering the summary that the nanny he’d had previously, saying that she was far too aggressive and imaginative, and that the girl never calmed down for even a second, and that she was simply too much for a person to handle. 

He refused to dampen her spirit, and if nobody else would nurture her than he sure would, because whatever Emma wanted to be then that was her call, she didn’t need to be tamed. She was wild, and enthusiastic, and her mind never stopped working. She was an intelligent girl for her age, and Mitch kept intending to have her tested, but that came right behind getting a new nanny, which he still hadn't had time to do between trying to help her learn to read and write, find a good online school for her to attend, and keep up with his job to pay the bills. 

Nobody said being a single dad was going to be easy. 

“What about her grandparents?” Hurley mumbled, eyes flicking up to the sparring match taking place, before back to him, and Mitch felt his own face screw up. 

“Katrina’s parents haven’t spoken to me since the funeral. They love her, and they send a letter once a year on her birthday that I’m collecting for when she’s old enough to understand them, but that can’t look at her without crying, and they can’t look at me.” Mitch shrugged, the pain of the event that had changed his life feeling nowhere near as aggressive as it once had, no longer ripping agony through his body like searing heat burning him from the inside out, but he still felt a little saddened at the thought of himself being the only family Emma ever had. “I have until tomorrow morning to find someone to look after her, and that doesn’t’ exactly inspire much confidence in my focus if I’m worried about the stranger caring for my baby girl.”

“I’ll do it.”

Mitch felt his breath hitch in his throat, a shadow falling over both of the men, before you were dropping down and feeding your legs through the elastic bands, leaning against them and reaching for your water bottle. You were panting front he exertion, skin shining a little from sweat, and somehow you still managed to look radiant, rendering Mitch barely able to catch his breath as you licked a stray drop of water from your lower lip and smiled at him. 

“You need someone to look after Emma, right?”

“Uh, yeah.. that’s, um, yeah.”

“Well, I’m more than happy to do it.” You shrugged, and Stan clapped you on the shoulder, seeming satisfied with the solution, said little girl seeming to choose this moment to come back over, wrapping her arms around one of his legs as she rested a cheek against his thigh, and he dropped a hand down to brush through her hair comfortingly as she waited patiently. “I know your job, and I know your daughter. I’m good with kids, and I have a guest room, I’m more than happy to do it.”

You were staring at him expectantly, and everything within him seemed to go into panic mode, his eyes flicking between you, his daughter and Hurley. Emma was peering up at him, a sweet little face that was mostly confused, but totally happy to just wait for her dad to be ready, while you were narrowing your eyes a little as him as the time dragged on, his throat feeling dry, even drier when he noticed the scrutinising gaze Stan was giving him as he gaped like a fish. Swallowing thickly and licking over his lips, he fixed you with a smile, nodding his head and looking back down.

“What do you think, Em? You want to stay with (Y/N) for a few days while daddy goes away to fight some bad guys.”

She rubbed at her chin, making both you and Stan laugh at her gesture, before she was leaning in a little closer to you, voice coming out like a whisper. “Do you like spaghetti hoops?”

“I do.” You had whispered back, her face lighting up, the craze she’d been so attached to lately of the pasta circles in a tomato-y sauce seeming to seal the deal as she nodded rapidly. “Here, give me a minute to write down my number and address, and you can swing by later tonight, I’ll get everything set up when I get home.” 

Mitch once again felt useless as he simply nodded, watching as you slipped out below the elastic ropes and found your bag, searching through for a pen, but not finding any paper. Instead, you pulled the cap off with your teeth, reaching for his arm and pushing up his sleeve, scrawling your number onto his skin, and tapping it with a triumphant sound when you were done. 

“There! Just give me a text later, and I’ll send you my address, and we can sort everything out.”

He finally managed to find words, promising he would do so, giving you a simple thank you and mustering what he hoped was a smile and not a nervous grimace, before Emma was wrapping her hand in his, and pulling him towards the door, yelling her goodbyes over her shoulder as she reminded him that he had promised her ice cream.

The entire evening had felt like a blur to Mitch, like at some point he was going to wake up cursing himself for having a dream about getting your address and number all in one night, that he was going to see you outside of work for the first time in his life. It was a thrill, an adrenaline rush of fear and excitement all in one. Personal lives in the line of work you both shared were something to be kept sacred, protecting your secrets and guarding them to your chest, and to be so easily welcomed into yours meant you trusted him, but he wasn’t sure what he was ready to find. Would you be wearing a wedding band on your own time? Did you have pictures up with a boyfriend or girlfriend, or were you in fact, the opposite of everything he thought you to be. 

He had absolutely no idea, his breath practically held in his throat as he rapped his knuckles against the door in a few swift knocks, hands place don his daughter’s shoulders as she rolled on the balls of her feet, far more laid back about it all, only having the excitement part of his fear and excitement bundle. 

Swinging the door open, you somehow managed to look exactly the same and entirely different all in one. The usual tight ponytail you wore was gone, your hair falling freely around your shoulders, a ripple in it from where the elastic had held it, and your face was free of makeup or sweat and dirt, leaving you looking raw and natural, a softer edge to your appearance. You were clearly in your relaxing mode, he’d only ever seen you in one of two looks; business formal with pencil skirts and blazers and an officiality to your gaze that made him nervous or in gym gear as you kept your world-class abilities up to spec through rigorous training.

You were wearing a hoodie, and a pair of cycle shorts, socks that were reaching just over your knees covered half of your legs, and he cursed under his breath when you crouched over a little, the hem of you hoodie covering the shorts altogether and sending his mind spinning into a series of fantasies and wonderings that he absolutely could not get caught up in.

“Hey there, Emma.” She threw her arms around your neck, letting you hug her back a little as you fell down to your knees from the impact, struggling to wrap your arms around her and her beloved backpack before she was moving from your arms again, and peering around you into your apartment curiously, but never stepping over the threshold. He all but preened with pride as he watched his daughter look up at you, blinking sweetly as she waited to be invited inside instead of just barging into your house, the manners he’d been working on with her for almost a year clearly beginning to take effect. “You wanna’ come in and put your bag down? The couch is right through there.” 

She buzzed past you the second you’d spoken the words, squealing with glee as she entered the new place she’d be exploring, and he managed to still his erratically beating heart, taming it down to a simple rhythm, and offering your hand to you to help you up from your crushed position to standing up again.

“Hey, Mitch.”

“Hey. I’m sorry about before, I just got caught off-guard that anyone would be willing to take her, you totally saved me on that, though.” He had practised the words in his head for the entire ride over here, his fingers flexing a little around the handles of the bag he held, filled with enough things to take care of Emma for a week. You only opened the door wider for him, inviting him inside, and he took a couple of steps forwards, the trained assassin in him immediately wanting to take in the environment, memorise everything in case he ever needed the knowledge. There was that one small part of him, however, that was searching for anything that might help him turn his feelings for you down, mute them a little, anything to make you seem a little less perfect in his eyes, but he couldn't find even a trace. “You, um, said you had a spare room? I can put Emma’s stuff away before I go, so you don’t have to unpack it.”

“Oh! Yeah, ‘course, my bad.” You took a step towards the living room, letting him call out to the young girl, who had already tipped out the contents of her toy bag onto the floor, and he cringed a little at the mess that had gathered up. “I wasn’t sure if she was scared of the dark, or anything, With a badass dad like you, I don’t imagine she’s scared of much, but kids are kids, right? I picked up a couple of night light things on my way home, and put them in the sockets around the house, in case she decided to get up in the night, or anything.”

“She’s a pretty heavy sleeper, she doesn't really wake up unless she has a nightmare, in which they’ll definitely help.”

Only a second later, Emma was barrelling into his side, knocking the breath from him as he staggered a little, her body practically bouncing as she weaved between his legs, and he scowled, shaking his he'd a little at her, but knowing he only had himself or blame for her sugar rush, having treated her to far more ice cream earlier than he should have. 

It was a simple room - as guests rooms go, but Emma seemed to love it, unzipping her bag and ragging out her favourite blanket to spread over the bedsheets front he second that it had been released, a ‘Frozen’ blanket covering the white bedding in all the spots it reached, looking more like a misplace square in the middle of the large bed, and she star-fished across the centre of it as he busied himself with unpacking her clothes into the drawers, all the lower ones that she could reach, and making sure she could see where he’d put everything for her. 

“I have a big bed now, like yours, daddy.” She was more than contented, and Mitch sat down beside her, watching as he rolled onto her stomach, before crawling over to take a seat in his lap, smiling up at you widely as you leaned against the wall and watched the two have their moment. “Do you have a big bed, too?”

“I have the biggest bed, ever! I could fit, like, seven Emma’s in it?”

She giggled as you stepped over, tickling at her sides a little, and he caught a whiff of the sweet shampoo you must’ve used only recently, the essence of coconuts and mangoes drifting into the air at your close proximity. “Only seven? Daddy’s bed could fit eight!”

“No way, that’s totally impossible!”

“It’s way possible!” She shouted, her voice echoing in his ear as he winced at the volume, but it didn’t dampen the smile on her face as he watched the two of you laugh together like it had been the funniest joke in the world. “Can I show you my dolls? I have to get them ready first, though.”

“Well, I will wait right here until they're ready, then!”

She squirmed in his arms, and he let her go, leaving just the two of you, and you took a seat beside him on the bed, bumping your shoulder to his for only as second, and it was still enough to make his heart skip a beat. 

“She’ll be totally okay, Mitch. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to her, she’ll have a great time.” Your words soothed him a little, the familiar sense of feeling like his throat was closing up every time he had to leave the most precious thing in his life, but he felt a little more reassured by your voice and your statement. 

“I know she will, I trust you.”

The words meant more to him than you knew, it was hard for him to trust people but for whatever reason it was, he trusted you with everything he had, before reaching for the bag, still a few items laying in it. 

“This is her teddy, she’s going to insist she’s a big girl and doesn’t need it because she wants to impress you, but she can’t sleep without it. Also, I wrote down some stuff in this notebook for you, as well as the emergency numbers for her doctor, and such. If you need it, her allergies are in here too, and just some information you might need..” You took it from him, the teddy sitting in your lap as you flicked through the notebook, grinning a little as you settled on one page. 

“Favourite pizza toppings; chicken and sweetcorn?”

He shrugged, grinning a little as heat flooded his cheeks, but you brushed your fingers over the pages, nibbling on your lower lip as you read some of the words he’d scribbled down, and his eyes were drawn into the action. You were talking, he could tell because your lips were moving, and he had to tear his eyes up from your mouth before you caught him staring, and when he managed to tune back in, he was grateful to hear you were just reading aloud, and weren’t saying anything important that he’d missed. 

Emma was calling you through, claiming the doll show to be ready, and he couldn't help but be happy that she had settled in so quickly, making him all that much more confident and secure in leaving her here with you for the time he was away. He followed after you dumbly as you carried the notebook away, placing it on the kitchen counter as you passed by, before he could see his daughter, kneeling on the floor and positioning her toys, the row of dolls lined up along the edge of the coffee table.

“Em, I have to go now, are you going to come say goodbye?”

She turned to look at him, her smile falling away for only a moment, before a smaller one was taking its place guilt clawing at his insides as he watched her stand up and wobble her way over to him on shaky little legs, before lifting her arms up for him to lift her into his arms. 

Her little arms wrapped around his neck, legs sealing to his waist as she buried her face into his neck, cheek pressed to his shoulder, short little puffs of breath washing over his skin, and Mitch buried his nose in his daughter's hair, hearing you leave the room to give them their space, a nation that he appreciated from you as he felt tears burn behind his eyes. 

“Miss you ‘ready, daddy.”

Her words were muffled by the way she was positioned, a breathy laugh leaving him as he nodded, peppering the expanse of the side of her head and face that he could reach with little kisses. “I’m gonna’ miss you a whole bunch, princess, but I’ll be back real soon, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

“You’re going to be good, right?”

“The best, I swears it.” She pulled back, holding out one of her pinkies for him, and he adjusted her to rest her weight on the forearm wrapped under her legs, before linking his pinky with hers, and kissing their joined hands. 

“That's my good girl, now you can go and play.”

She was happy to be let back down to the floor, and you reappeared, giving him a gentle smile before walking him the door, dread and anticipation filling him as he turned back to look at his little girl, waving when she looked up at him, pausing her playing. 

“I’ll be as quick as I can, and thank you so much for doing this.”

“Any time, really, I don’t mind even one bit.” Your words were honest and true, making him feel a little reassured, before he could hear the scuffling of socks on the carpet as Emma appeared behind you, tugging on your hand before raising her arms a little, mailing when you picked her up. Balancing her on your hip, she rested her head on your shoulder, holding on with one hand and reaching out a flat palm towards him, wiggling her fingers the best way she knew how to.

It was far too domestic, the way the two of you already had a dynamic that was intimate and sweet, his breath getting caught in his lungs as he looked at the pair of you, his imagination spiralling to places he didn’t have time to go to right now, but he knew would creep up on him later when he was on the plane. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of his daughter's head, and suppressing the urge to look up and brush his lips to your own, settling for a simple nod, before swallowing thickly as he tried to force himself to move away from you both.

“I heard someone’s favourite pizza toppings were chicken and sweetcorn. How about we go inside and have a little look for some takeout places, yeah? You want pizza?”

You looked up at him for the approval, the distraction he was grateful for as his daughter’s wide eyes finally left him, because if she had stared for much longer he may have broken down entirely and stayed, but now it was easier. The spell was broken as he stepped away, mumbling a final goodbye to you both, before watching as the door closed, your smile and Emma’s wave to see him off, before he was able to release his breath, snap himself out of it, and walk away.

The second he’d landed, he was out of the plane and into the car, snatching up his bag and leaving the runway, encouraging the man sent to pick him up to speed up a little as he headed back towards the main building from the airport. He had to debrief, but it was a quick thing to accomplish, most of the work being documents online that could easily be completed and submitted as he wrote up a report of what happened, but more importantly, he’d have his daughter back by then.

The car seemed like it was only getting slower and slower, despite the fact that he knew it wasn’t, and as they finally pulled up into the parking lot, his stomach finally being able to unknot and relax as he saw his daughter, her hand linked through Stan’s as the man held a face like thunder - as usual - while Emma talked his ear off, uncaring of whether he wanted to hear the words or not.

From the moment he had the door open, he could hear her racing forward to meet him, and Mitch dropped down to his knees to catch his daughter’s body as she hurled herself into him, a collision that knocked the breath from his lungs, but he clung to her tightly. Little arms wrapped around his neck as he sealed his own around her little frame, one hand cupping the back of her head, smoothing her hair down as she gave him a tight hug, before pulling back and holding his face in her hands, scrunching up her face as she pressed a kiss to the end of his nose. 

“You’re home!”

“I’m home, for a long time, too, I hope.” He glanced up at Stan, who was pulling out a cigarette from the box behind him, standing back from Emma now that he could smoke without her being too close, and lighting up the death stick in his mouth, making sure to blow the smoke up above his head, just in case. Looking down at his daughter, his brows furrowed at the sparkly blue and pink tutu around her waist, layers of netting sticking out with gems and sequins sewn along the waistline, it was a real eyesore, and exactly the kind of thing a child would adore. “I’ve never seen this one before, where did you get it?”

He picked his girl up, balancing her across his front as he stood up to his full height, and taking his bag with him. “(Y/N) bought it for me! I wanted to play princesses, but I didn't have my dresses. She let out a sigh, smoothing little hands over the netting to press it down, before it was popping up again a moment later, and she seemed satisfied with whatever actions she’d taken. 

“And where is (Y/N)?”

Emma simply shrugged, choosing to busy herself with taking fistfuls of his hair and running her fingers through it before patting it down, and his attention moved to Stan, watching as he smoked quietly and watched the scene. “I took over looking after Emma this morning, she got a call in the middle of the night from Irene, a lead on her big case that she thought had gone cold last year. Popped back up, a sudden occurrence. She wasn’t going to go, but she had to, we both knew it.”

Mitch could only nod, knowing how hard you’d worked on that case, and how much it really did need to be closed, and his heart warmed at the fact you would give it all up to care for Emma, but he completely understood. It didn't stop the spark of disappointment that shot through him when he realised he wouldn’t get a chance to thank you personally, however, because he’d been particularly hoping that he would be functional enough to maybe try and string some words together, and ask if he could repay you by taking you out to dinner.

His confidence was already draining from him, the adrenaline and victory high he’d been on that had spurred the idea on the first place was melting away, and he sighed out a little, not knowing when the next time he’d get to see you would be. 

“Shame, would’ve been nice to see her.” He cleared his throat as Hurley’s eyes narrowed on him for the comment, and he shrugged his free shoulder. “Thank her for looking after Em, check how it all went, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” The man didn’t seem to believe him, but he didn't comment on it, instead dropping the butt of the cig to the floor and stomping it out, before opening the back of his car with a click of his car keys, the bags he had dropped his daughter off with were sitting in the back. “Well she’s gone by now, but I have Emma’s stuff for you, now get in the car so I can take you both home. There’s a reason I didn’t have my own children, y’know.”

Mitch scowled at him, glancing at his daughter, who seemed to know exactly what he meant and was uncaring as she grinned wickedly at Stan, who glared back equally at the girl, before offering her a smile. 

“C’mon, Emma, I’m not moving your car seat from the front, your dad can ride in the back.”

She clapped her hands with a loud squeal, before squirming from his arms and into Stan’s, letting him toss his bag in the back and slam the trunk shut, before clambering into the back seat as his superior started up the car.

It was two months before Mitch got to see you again, and he worried for you every single day because of it. Emma would not stop asking about you, she’d spent at least the entirety of the first month telling him about everything the two of you had gotten up to over your time spent together on repeat, until he felt like he could tell the stories himself. 

Emma had decided that her latest obsessions had moved on from playing house to holding tea parties, her dollies no longer being her children but instead being her guests, and the backpack carrying plastic guns and princess crowns had been swapped out for a miniature briefcase with a portable tea set, one that flipped over to make a table for her to sit at. The entire set had cost him over a hundred dollars, and he was absolutely certain that he could have constructed himself a better one for ten dollars and a trip to target, but he didn’t have the time for that. 

Emma had taken to setting up the table beside the ring, the boxing back, or the equipment that he was working on whenever he came to the gym, Irene beginning to get at him to find a new nanny so that no children were wandering around the building anymore, but he had seen her accept a fake plastic cup on multiple occasions, and even once caught her letting Emma label files with the label maker in her office, so he wasn’t taking the threat all that seriously. 

Other agents had chipped in too, because they didn't have the willpower to resist a four-year-old with pigtails blinking up at them, wide-eyed with a pout as she holds a painted plastic teapot and an empty plastic mug to match. No matter how frequently her attention was taken away - a fact he was entirely grateful for, because he had no idea how to attend a ‘tea party’ - for a split second, her questions always came down to when you’d be back, and Mitch was beginning to lose his mind a little bit, running out of excuses.

He was pounding away on a punching bag, his daughter sitting beside him and singing a little tune to herself in the almost empty gym as she occasionally offered him ‘sips of tea’ from the empty cup, before Stan was bursting in through the doors with extreme force and speed, and Mitch’s stomach twisted at the idea that he was either about to get bollocked, or given an assignment.

Pulling up the edge of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, he placed a hand flat on the sandbag to bring it's swinging to a stop. 

It wasn’t him that Stan was looking for, though, it was Emma. He offered the girl a smile, an expression reserved for her and her only, as she spun around to him, thrusting a teacup into his hand as he came to a stop and crouched before her. “I have a surprise for you, kiddo.”

“You do?” He nodded, and she squealed excitedly, pulling a doll away from one of the seats on the floor by its foot, tossing it to the side in a way that Mitch had certainly done with actual people, a smirk flicking at his lips as the slightly macabre thought of ‘like father, like daughter’ flickered across his mind, watching as she falsely filled Stan’s cup up with tea. “What is the surprise, Mr Stan?”

She sounded exasperated already, and both of them chuckled at her strained voice as she all but bounced on her feet. “Guess who’s back?”

Mitch felt his own heart skip a beat, licking over his lips and trying to control himself from jumping into the conversation, choosing instead to unwrap his hands of his boxing tape slowly, pretending like he wasn’t quite as invested in this news as he actually was. Stan confirmed Emma’s guess when she finally reached your name, coming third in her guesses behind Scooby-Doo and Princess Sofia, and he wasn’t sure when either of the fictional characters had gone missing, but apparently, in her mind, they were a dire missing person’s case.

He only had to wait around five minutes, before he caught glimpses of you going along, two interns following behind you, a whirl of beauty and grace, before you were entering the gym, dead set on making your way towards the lockers and showers.

He could see you more clearly now, anger on your face as blood and dirt covered you almost from head to toe, and you still managed to look beautiful. One of the junior agents following behind you was holding up a phone, microphone pointed towards you as you spoke, listing off every detail of the case that you possibly could, as the other held out a packet of antiseptic wipes and a plastic bag, each time you fingers plucked another one from the packet to scrub at your skin, the old one being collected. 

With a black eye and a bust lip, he still thought that you looked beautiful, the stunning hair and makeup up-do that you must’ve had done was completely destroyed, but the silk gown hugging your body seemed almost intact, save for the blood spatters and dirt, and you ran your fingers through your hair, pulling out the clips holding it up and teasing the knots in the strands.

Every further look he took, you seemed more and more exhausted and battered, the bruises on your arms a chest obvious to him now, the scratches and cuts that were inflamed and red, poorly patched up with in the field medical supplies, a miss matching collection of band-aids and gauze, and Mitch almost had to cover his daughter's ears as he realised just how many curse words and language he wasn’t ready from her to hear yet were spilling from her mouth, but you beat him to it, mouth snapping shut. 

You’d looked around now, noticing the three of them in the corner, and came to a full halt, a deep sigh leaving you as you met Emma’s eyes, his daughter staring up at you in awe and wonder. Lifting a hand, you waved your fingers at her in a sweet wave, dismissing the two agents who were quick to scurry away. You kicked off your heels, leaving them discarded on the floor as you unstrapped a gun from your thigh, dropping it and the holster to the floor, before holding your arms out to her.

“Princess, be careful! (Y/N) is-”

He cringed, words a little too late as he watched Emma barrel herself into you, almost knocked flat on your back as you caught her in your kneeled position, and he heard the breath forced from your lungs as a whine. 

“Injured. She’s injured, Em, just like daddy sometimes is when he comes home. We have to be gentle, remember?” She simply nodded, pulling back a little with a soft apology under her breath, and you brushed her hair back, pinching her cheek and letting her take your hand as you stood back up. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been waiting to see this little cutie again for months, anyway.” You brushed it off, but he could hear the tiredness in your voice and see the slight wobble as you studio up, swaying despite not moving and walking, and he worried a little more for you. Stan placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, wishing you a congratulations before following in the direction that the other agents had gone, and leaving the three of you alone in the room. Emma took her hand from yours, pulling off her trainers to place her tiny feet into your heels, trying to balance and shuffle forwards, and you reached a hand out to steady yourself on his shoulder, shaking your head clear a little bit. “I haven’t slept for, like, three days. I’m exhausted.”

“Well, you still look nice. Beautiful, really. You look great.”

You raised your brows at him for a second, looking down at yourself and taking it all in, before a soft laugh was leaving your lips. “I look a mess, but I do appreciate the confidence boost.” 

He joined in with your laughs, his heart feeling completely full, and he swallowed thickly to try and choke down his anxiety. You both turned to watch Emma shuffle around, taking tiny steps as she found her rhythm in your heels, looking adorable as she carried around a teacup in one hand and two massively oversized heels in the other.

“Will you stay for tea with us?”

“Oh, Em, I think (Y/N) is probably a bit tired tonight, mayb-”

You squeezed his shoulder, his head cutting to turn to you, and you shook your head at him a little bit. “I would love to, Emmy. Did you make the tea yourself?”

She gasped, nodding excitedly as she abandoned her heels and dashed over to the table again, finding another cup and setting you a place, getting lost in her own world as she listed off the different kind of teas she ‘had’, the list sounding exactly like the aisles at Walmart she’d forced him to stand in for thirty minutes as she memorised them three days ago. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally. Why don’t you go shower up, and then when you get back, you can drive me home, because I’m pretty sure I’ll fall asleep behind the wheel if I drive.”

He grinned, ducking his head for only a second, before confirming that he would. “I won’t be long. Promise.”

The next few weeks felt like a slow slide turning into an avalanche, like he’d been slipping on his feet a little for the past few years and was no tumbling like a cartoon down a snowy mountainside, becoming an ever-growing snowball before the brick wall he was bound to hit into sooner or later.

He had been perfectly capable of keeping his feelings under wraps while you barely interacted, greeting one another in the corridor when he was able to pass with simple grunts and on syllable responses, but now you talked. He had somehow managed to make a friend of you, your smiling face every time he passed you by making him feel like he was heating up from the inside, fire bursting from his fingertips anytime, and he wondered if he looked as red in the face as he felt each time.

Mitch could now confirm that without a doubt, he was head over heels in love with you, and you had absolutely no idea. At this point, he didn’t really have anything left within himself to even chastise his heart for making this decision against logic and reason’s advisement, because you were absolutely everything he needed. He never had to lie to you about where he was, or what he was doing, and when he'd had a particularly rough day or assignment, you understood what he needed, sitting with him quietly and swapping the coffee that made him jittery out for a calming camomile tea. You loved his daughter, and she loved you, and you’d managed to support him along his single-fatherhood like nobody else had, making everything seem a little bit easier, because he had a friend to go through it with. 

You were always willing to offer a helping hand, a comforting comment or a funny joke to cheer him up, and you’d never said no at the chance of seeing Emma. Said little girl had attached herself to you like a barnacle, wanting to spend as much time with you as she possibly could, and it was both a blessing and a curse for him. On the one hand, any time you were around, Emma didn’t want his mediocre guest skills, because as it had turned out, you were an excellent tea pastry guest. You had the popped up little pinky, and the small talk to match, and you’d even somehow found a set of saucers that match the pattern to give to her when her fifth birthday had passed by. The problem was, when you were sitting on the gym floor and drinking fake tea with his little girl, his concentration was anywhere but the sparring matches and boxing bags, and he often found himself on his back and pinned to the floor by recruits, or being smacked in the face by a bag that swung back at him with force. 

His body and face were constantly littered with healing bruises, and there was no chance that Emma was ever going to take her sights off of you, because she had decided that you were her new role model, his chest aching at the thought that he couldn't provide a mother figure for his daughter, that she was growing up and scrabbling to learn front the women around her.

He thought it was adorable that she’d started wearing her dresses more, just so she could tuck her nerf gun into the waistband of her leggings in claims that she wanted to match the way wore your gun under your dress too, or the way she’d started trying to tie her own hair up in the same style you did, but she needed more.

She needed someone to teach her how to paint her nails when she was older and help her pick out an outfit for prom, and to teach her about the women’s side of things, because Mitch still didn’t understand the difference between pads with wings and the ones without, and at what age you’re supposed to move onto tampons, and why a skincare routine needed to be so intense, and what the fuck purple shampoo was, and he didn’t know what to do about it all.

Most of all, he was just glad to have someone back in his life that didn’t bark orders at him or rely on him. Emma was a handful, and he loved her with all of his heart, and Stan was a good enough friend but still a tough superior, and he hadn't had a friend of his own in years, and sometimes, when he finally got to sit down on his couch with a cold beer in hand after putting Emma to bed and having some time to himself, he let his mind wander. 

He’d daydream about having someone with him, having you with him, having a friend to talk to. He was lonely in the nights, and when the bed felt cold, and when he never had anyone to share his thoughts with that Emma wasn’t old enough to understand. Being closed off had always helped him, because his number one priority always had been and always would be his daughter, he didn’t want anyone coming into his life that she may not like or that may hurt her, and yet Emma had chosen you all on her own. She had seen you, picked you out by hand and decided that you were everything she wanted to be when she grew up, and he couldn't blame her in the slightest, because he couldn't imagine a better role model. 

All of thee thoughts seemed to come spilling over one day when he had intended to say a simple thank you, catching you just before you’d moved away to hit the showers, while Emma was still built giggling with Stan as he helped her fire her latest new child-friendly firearm addition at the newest targets, one of the interns moving around with a bullseye on his chest as she shot foam bullets at him.

“I just wanted to say thanks.”

“For what?” You were a little bit breathless and sweaty, and you were licking your lips on repeat as you tried to get them to stay wet after your intense workout, and his mind was short-circuiting a little bit.

“Everything. Lately.” He barely even paused for breath, before his mouth was continuing without his mind's approval. “I know you have no obligation to us, or to my Em, but she looks up to you, she adores you, and I think it’s good for her to have a mom-type role.” His eyes widened as you laughed a little, and he felt like he was choking on his own tongue as he tried to figure out how to backpedal from that statement. “Oh, God, not that you are her mom, y’know, just that she has a female role-model, because she needs it, I can’t imagine anyone better for her to want to aspire to be like than you, you're an incredible influence!”

With a hand on his arm, you cut off his rambling, and his ears were ringing with the pressure slamming about inside his head, the internal loop of his thoughts now just have become a loud screaming that accurately represented how he felt. 

Your lips were pursed together now as you tried to hold in a grin, your thumb rubbing over his bicep in what he was sure was supposed to be a comforting motion but was actually just driving him more and more insane, the domesticity of the sweet actions meant he was definitely reading a little to far into them, but he didn’t care, because he was taking a deep breath as he tried to calm himself down, matching the rise and fall of his shoulders with yours, until subconsciously, he was able to relax once again.

“I always kinda’ wanted a kid, but in this line of work, you don’t really get the chance to meet anyone, never mind meet anyone that wants kids themselves, so I’m glad she’s taken an attachment to me.” You seemed to panic a little at your own words there, his lips flicking up at the sides, in knowing he wasn’t the only one struggling with his words right now. “I’m not trying to steal your baby Mitch, I just love her to bits, and I’m more than happy spending time with her. She’s an amazing little girl, and you’ve done such a good job raising her. You are a fantastic father, Mitch.”

He took a moment to wonder if ‘heart eyes’ were a real thing, or whether there were little birds flying around his head, maybe a massive neon sign above him that simply read ‘I am so fucking in love with you that it hurts’, because that is how he felt, hearing you compliment his parenting abilities, his daughter and their family all in one. His voice felt hoarse as he tried to speak, coughing a little to clear it, but unable to tear his gaze away from yours as he spoke the raspy words, voice cracking a little; “Thank you.”

“I’m going to go wash up, alright?”

He could only nod, his eyes widening to the size of golf balls when your hand slipped up from his arm, across his shoulder and to his cheek, before your lips were pressing to the other, brushing smoothly over rough stubble in a soft peck, before turning away from him and disappearing before his very sight behind the set of double doors leading to the shower rooms. He knew his face was red this time, knew that he was absolutely shocked as he felt like he was going to combust at any moment, whilst also wanting nothing more than to let his weak knees give way so that he could collapse down into the cold floor until his instincts were no longer in overdrive. 

Turning around, he was even more mortified to find Emma balanced on Hurley’s hip, watching with a grin as his mentor stared at him with a wide and knowing smirk. 

“Daddy and (Y/N) sittin’ in a tree!”

He fixed his daughter with a stern look, taking a step over, and dread filled him when his boss chuckled, before taking a deep breath, and he already knew what was coming next, the two of them chanting the rhyme together;

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

People began to look over at them from the sheer volume of the combined voices, and he snatched his daughter away, scowling at his mentor as he did. He was an assassin, for fuck’s sake, he didn’t have to listen to this shit. Once he knew she wouldn't see it, Mitch was holding his finger up to flip off the older man, before ducking down to scoop up his daughter’s things, and fleeing from the gym before he had to listen to any more of Stan’s teasing, the now knowing for sure that Mitch had one very big weak spot.

That moment had been the result of over a month’s worth of teasing since, smirks in his direction anytime you were within Mitch’s general presence, and like some high school chain of gossip, Stan had passed the information onto Irene, who had told her IT guy and her personal assistant, and he wasn’t sure how many other people knew by now, but it had to be at least half of the people he ever interacted with. Which was a fair fucking amount. 

Now, he really did feel like a high schooler with a crush all over again.

He was actively trying not to think about it, instead watching Emma colour in one of the tigers in her colouring book with a green crayon and blue stripes, red eyes that were a little bit haunting in his opinion, when the door knocked quietly and repetitively, and they both froze up a little. Emma was out of her chair like a dash, though, racing toward the front door before he could stop her, and Mitch felt his heart rise up in his throat as she reached for the handle, swinging it open to the unknown arrival and possible threat, before his breath was hitching in his throat.

He wasn’t sure if he was nervous, elated, confused, or a mixture of all three at seeing you standing on his doorstep. A pair of jeans and a baggy jumper, you hair sitting naturally instead of pulled back tightly once again, but this time you wore a little bit of makeup, and you looked softer than he’d ever seen you, possibly even passing for a simple civilian, covered from being a top-secret agent of the highest calibre for just one night. 

“Uh, hi?”

He hated the way his word came out, wishing he’d managed to sound more welcoming, but instead he’d managed to sound on edge and crass, your brows furrowing a little as you looked at him, before shaking your head fondly. “This was Emmy’s doing, wasn’t it?”

“What is this, exactly?”

You opened your mouth to reply, before the girl he’d been trying to hold behind him damaged to break free, a high-pitched yell on her lips as she wrapped her arms around your legs, crushing her face into her stomach as she laughed excitedly. “You came! You really came over!”

You crouched down when she pulled away, a smile on your lips, but it didn’t reach your eyes, and Emma placed her hands on your shoulders when you were at her height. “You have been lying and keeping secrets, little missy!” You tickled at her sides lightly, and she crumpled into laughter, before you were continuing. “Your daddy did not invite me over for dinner, did he? You can’t just go around inviting people to dinner!”

“I didn’t lie! Or keep secrets, swearsies!” She stuck her pinky out in your direction, and you didn’t accept it immediately, making her sigh over-dramatically. “Daddy says surprises don’t count as lying if it’s a good surprise, and I know you’re his friend and playdates are always fun and I wanted to surprise him.”

He knew she was trying to whisper, but wasn’t doing an excellent job of it, and he felt his frown slipping away, instead smoothing a hand over her hair to draw her attention up to him. “You’d better go and set an extra place at the table, Em. Clear away your drawings, and later, me and you and going to talk about inviting people over to the house without my permission, okay?”

She frowned, her entire face screwing up with the motion, but she nodded nonetheless, and you shifted to show the tote bag that was tucked under your arm, before pulling out a green bottle, a fancy label on the front as you handed it over to her, Emma’s face lighting up as he dashed inside with the gift.

“Did you just give my daughter a bottle of wine?”

You gasped, standing up to your full height before him, shaking your head fervently. “Of course not! I gave her an old wine bottle filled up with sparkling grape soda so she can feel all grown up!”

“You did all that just for Emma’s impromptu dinner party?” You shuffled from foot to foot, nodding a little, and he felt his heart melt as an entirely new side of you shone through, a new you that was different to the confident and bold woman he knew while on duty, and leaving him with a slightly anxious sweetheart in an oversized jumper. “That’s fucking adorable, you know that, right?”

“I’m not adorable.” You mumbled, and he laughed, reaching out to pinch your cheek before you swatted it away, and the energy between you both felt completely different. He wasn’t nervous with the real you, he was only nervous with the work you. This side of you put him at ease, this side of you made him feel comfortable and relaxed, and he didn’t feel his heart try to burst out of his chest too hard when you smiled back at him this time. “Are you sure you want me here? I can go home, I should have known better, texted you beforehand to check, or something.”

“Do you mind eating dinosaur chicken nuggets and smiley face waffles?”

“That sounds amazing, actually.” He beamed, swinging the door open a little wider for you, and welcoming you into his home, your shoes being toed off by the door as you pulled the sleeves down over your hands, before spinning to him with a sudden intake of breath as he closed the door and remembered to put the highest locks on again. “I bought something for you, too.”

“Is it wine in a grape soda bottle?”

“You wish.” You teased presenting him with a bottle of wine, the cork still in it, and he took it from you, grinning as he looked it over, before meeting your curious gaze, and putting your nerves to rest. 

“We can have it after Emma goes to bed, maybe?”

It was a bold move, and he knew it, but at this point, he didn’t have much of his dignity or pride left to lose, and it seemed to pay off as you leaned into him a little, letting out a light breath. “I’d love that.”

He placed the bottle of red down on the coffee table, leaving it there before he had a hand on your lower back, and was guiding you through to the kitchen where Emma was trying to work out which side of the plate the knife was supposed to go on, and which side was the fork.

As much as he admired and adored his daughter’s intentions, he really wished he known, because Mitch found himself dishing up the most un-sophisticated dinner ever, and standing in a slightly messy kitchen to match a slightly messy apartment, covered in children’s toys and carpets he hadn't vacuumed in almost two weeks, wearing sweatpants and a shirt with a hole in the arm that was faded from all the wear and tear it had seen over the years.

He did the best he could, though, because this was the kind of moment he never thought he’d get to have with you, and he busied himself with splitting up the meal, taking all the brontosaurus' and triceratops into your and his plates, because Emma only liked the t-rex’s and the pterodactyls, claiming they tasted different. Arranging them around the outside, he filled the middle with the number of smiley faces that she’d actually at, despite knowing she’d argue for more. Fishing out the ketchup, he squirted the sauce out, shaping it in a couple of hearts, before picking up her plate and placing it down in front of her, placing a kiss to the top of her head. 

Your plate was next, the bottle of ketchup going down into the middle of the table as he sat down opposite you. As predicted, Emma complained about the quantities, before tucking in, constantly talking with her mouthful as she tried to add to the conversation. He drank sparkling grape soda from an old wine bottle with you both, and watched as Emma told you everything she could possibly think of that you may not already know, before offering to show off her bedroom to you after dinner.

He both hated and loved how naturally you bonded with his daughter, and how seeing you sitting across from him eating kids meals and having a biased thumb war with his five-year-old at the dinner table felt like something that was meant to be in his life, and definitely something he knew he could get used to. You helped clean up, standing by his side and washing the pots as he dried and put them away, much to your insistence as he told you you didn't have to, and Emma pinned up her blue and green demon-tiger on the fridge, before clearing away her crayons and going to clean her teeth. 

You let her give you the ‘grand tour’ of her bedroom as he leaned in the doorway, trying not to think about how he’d very much like to give you the grand tour of his bedroom, and distracting himself by picking out the bedtime story he’d read to her once she was settled under the covers. 

He found you again once the girl was asleep, flicking out the lights and finding you sitting on his couch, passing your time by quietly reading the book he’d had out on the coffee table, seemingly already further through it than he’d had the chance to get in over a week, but closing it up when he sat down beside you, two real wine glasses and a corkscrew in hand as he offered one to you.

You shifted as he sat down, resting your feet in his lap once he’d popped the cork out, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ once your glass had been filled, and just like that, you were once again dragging him down into that hazy feeling he’d spent the entire night in, leaning his head on the cushion, and letting the first things that came to mind spill from his mouth. The conversation took off from there, starting as you conversed the book he had out, and moving to other books, before movies and TV shows, general likes and dislikes, learning one another slowly. 

Everything you told him made him like you a little bit more, your quirks and sharp edges, a kind of devotion finding a place in his heart that he never thought he’d feel again as you continued on, before the topic had switched to the future. He spilled his fears, that he wanted Emma to do private elementary schooling, but to attend an actual middle and high school, to get the full experience like she deserved, but that he also just wanted to protect her from the entire world. He confessed that he constantly felt like he was failing, tearing up when he told you about how he was certain he couldn't give her as much as she deserved, leaning into your hand when you wiped away the tear that fell free, and you spilled your own wishes to him.

Everything before the trauma that had landed you in the CIA at a younger age than him, and that no relationship had ever worked out for you, because you could never get past the ‘so, what do you do for a living?’ stage, and could never move in with someone, plan dates, or make a future. You told him about how you still wanted the same little things all little girls wanted, a pretty wedding and a devoted spouse and a beautiful child to raise into the world and add to society, to leave a legacy behind in the form of a beautiful person who would live their own life, and that you worried you’d never get it. 

By the end of the bottle, the two of you were more than tipsy, and he felt like he'd known you forever, his body pressed to yours, and an arm wrapped around you as your head leaned on his shoulder, deep sighs leaving you both. 

“I’m sorry if tonight was a total fail.”

You shifted, just slightly, before raising a hand, weaving your fingers with his on the hand sitting over your shoulder. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s been.. a while since I last took a pretty woman out for dinner, and it isn’t supposed to be soda and chicken nuggets, and you shouldn’t wear sweatpants, that’s for sure.” You turned a little, pressing the rumble of your laugh into his shoulder, and he didn't even have enough inhibition to be embarrassed about his lack of filter.

“Tell you what, Mitch, if you want to take me out to dinner, then I will dress up all pretty to be on your arm. But, for the record, I am more than happy to spend a dinner date with you and Emma eating kid’s food, in sweatpants and hoodies.” He whined a little under his breath, before pulling back enough to look at you, and resting his forehead on your own. 

“Do you have any idea how perfect you are?”

Your breath hitched a little from his words, and he twisted his head, enough to bump his nose with your own as he tasted your breath on his lips, licking over his own and working up the nerve to close his mouth in against your own, slot them together in a simple kiss.

He didn’t get the chance, before you were both jumping apart in slight shock when Emma’s bedroom door clicked open, the two of you watching the girl shuffle down the hall, rubbing at her eyes, entirely unaware of her surroundings as she moved into the bathroom, the door closing behind her. The atmosphere felt entirely shattered, his confidence shooting back down to the floor, the startle from his daughter sobering him up a little, now.

“I should go, it’s probably quite late.”

He only nodded, grabbing the empty bottle and the glasses, running them through to the kitchen and leaving them for himself to sort in the morning, before meeting you by the front door. You were tugging your shoes back on, your hood pulled up over your head to fight the cold that waited outside, and your bag on your arm again. 

“I meant it, though. I had an amazing night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, pressing a kiss to his cheek again, this one lingering, you forehead bumping his temple as you pulled back, before you were waving to him and walking away toward the stairs, letting him watch until you were sealed within the box and taken from his sights, and he locked the front door once again. 

When he turned, Emma was standing there, her thumb in her mouth as she stared up at him, and he reached down, plucking it from between her lips and wiping it off, crouching down before her. 

“Do you love (Y/N)?” He all but choked on his breath, staring down at the little girl in shock, before she yawned again, covering her mouth and shrugging her shoulders. Lifting her arms up, she allowed Mitch to pick her up, flicking off the lights in the house as he went, heading away with a destination of her bedroom as her face settled into his neck. “I love (Y/N). She's my bestest friend.”

He placed her down onto the mattress delicately, the nightlight in her room casting a soft pink glow over her features, and he smiled sadly as he looked at her, little eyes fluttering shut as she snuggled back into her blankets. He could see so much of Katrina in her features, sure that they would only develop more as she grew older, but it no longer hurt to look at her like it did in the first year, and he no longer felt that same pang of pain in his heart at the flash of her face across his mind, just nostalgia that made his heart slow a little, for only a second, in memory of someone it had lost.

In addition, though, he could see so much of you in her personality. His little girl was brave, and confident, and would be truly unstoppable one day, and he loved it, stroking his fingers over her hair and smiling a little when she opened his eyes to peer at him curiously, still waiting for an answer from him.

“I do. I love her too, princess.” She smiled to herself like she’d been told the world’s biggest secret, tucking her face into her pillow some more as sleep began to come back to claim her. “She’s special. She’s like.. like-”

“A queen!”

He laughed a little at her words, finding the teddy bear that had fallen from the bed to the carpet and tucking it under her arm, raising a brow in question. “A queen?”

“I’m the princess.” She murmured, the nickname he gave her so fondly rolling from her lips. “That means you’re the king, and (Y/N) can be the queen.”

The stinging realisation that she was searching for another figure in anyone that she could find made him ache with freezing cold ice from head to toe, his eyes welling up a little bit as he tried to hold a brave face, kissing her forehead as he stood up, bidding her a goodnight as her breathing went shallow, and closing the door again behind him.

“Daddy, can you get married?”

Emma was holding up the last of her Haribo sweets on her finger, before chewing the gummy ring off, and he turned to look at her, raising his head from his work, before turning to glare at Stan as he snickered. “Did you set this up?”

“I did nothing!” 

He peered at his daughter's iPad, another scene from ‘Frozen’ up on the screen as Anna and Hans’ voices barely reached his ears through the headphones she’d taken off, and he let out a deep sigh, Stan texting on his phone and ignoring them both, and Mitch placed down the pen for the work he was signing off on. “I want to get married, daddy.”

“One day, princess.”

“I want you to get married, too. Why can’t we have a wedding, daddy?” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, before giving his full attention to his daughter. He wasn’t sure how to answer, or what to say, but she was staring up at him hopefully as she nibbled on a gummy bear, the crown on her head tipping a little bit to the side, and he reached out to place it on her head properly again.

“We can have a wedding if you want to, baby.” He couldn't help it, but her little hands were clapping together excitedly and her face lit up, and he didn’t regret the choice at all. “Stan will officiate.”

“I will do no such thing!” The man insisted, but Emma ignored that, only getting more excited as her hands became fists while she cheered. 

“Yay, Mr Stan!”

He glared at Mitch, who only smirked back at him, signing his name in confirmation at the bottom of the papers and finishing them off, the man growling under his breath but being unable to refuse, and Emma was leaping out of her chair, fishing out her other crown, and presenting it proudly. 

“Royal crowns! Wedding crowns!”

She stamped her feet excitedly, clutching it to her chest as her entire body all but vibrated with excitement, and he was out of his chair in seconds, scooping her up happily and pressing kisses to her cheeks as the other crown fell away, her childish giggles filling the room as he spun her around. 

“Right, right, c’mon then. I have a meeting in ten minutes, so if we’re having a royal wedding, we’re on a timer.”

Hurley let out a heaving sigh as he stood up, the door bursting open a second later as you all but fell through, a more formal outfit than usual on you, a pencil skirt and tight jumper, your eyes wide and phone clutched in hand. “What happened?”

“What?”

“The emergency! What happened?” Mitch looked over at Stan, your eyes following his, and you growled under your breath, picking up one of the croissants from the cart beside you and throwing it across the room at him. “You don’t just text people ‘quick, help, there is an emergency’ when there is no emergency, Stan!”

“There is an emergency! Someone has to marry Mitch!”

“Are you fu-” You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose, before walking over to them and covering Emma’s ears. “Are you fucking kidding me, Stan? I was in a debriefing.”

“I thought I was marrying Emma?” Mitch felt like he was talking to himself as he realised he'd been set up, Emma arranging him until he was facing you, her hands on your hips as she turned you to face him, and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe again. Since your dinner a few weeks ago, neither of you had spoken about what had almost happened, slipping right back to being close friends, and he wasn’t sure whether or not to take that as a good sign. 

He couldn't help but think about how odd this entire situation was, the child of the fiancée who had died was holding a fake marriage to someone else, someone she had seemed to have adopted as her own motherly figure, and he felt like it was all a little too weird to actually focus on for too long. 

“Em, do you remember what we said about surprises?”

“Yes! You said surprises are okay!” She growled a little at him, her best wolf impression as she tried to get him to back down, and he returned it, watching as her face screwed up with anger and her arms crossed. “Surprises are okay if it makes everyone happy, that’s what you said, daddy!”

“Yes, but how do you know everyone is happy, Emma?”

“Because you love (Y/N)!” Mitch wanted the ground to open up and suck him in, possibly just let him never return, but then someone has to look after Emma, and he didn't even bother to cover her ears as he let a string of curses fall from his mouth, embarrassment flaring up warmth across his entire body, swelling in his chest all the way up to the tips of his ears in a suffocating heat as his head dropped. “It’s okay, daddy! (Y/N) loves you too! Mr Stan says so!” 

He heard the dull thud of what sounded like a very solid punch being delivered to Stan, and he had been about to take the same action himself feeling a little bit better at knowing the man got a dig in for his sneaky actions.

“You have to get married and be happy, daddy.”

“Yeah, Rapp. You have to be happy. It’s an order.” He looked up at the man, a more genuine look on his face than any he had ever seen, and he gave in a little, finally managing to drag his eyes up to meet yours. You reached out, taking his hands in yours and pulling him in a little closer to you, as you winked at his daughter, and looked back up to him. 

Stan cleared his throat, lifting Emma onto his hip, and she clutched two crowns excitedly in her hands. “We are gathered here today, to join Mitch Rapp and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) in the most epic royal wedding ever.” Emma giggled at his words, nodding in agreement. “Do you, Mitch Rapp, take (Y/N) to be your royally wedded wife?”

He turned, licking over his lips, seeing your little nod to him in a promise that it was okay, before Emma was staring up at him hopefully, and Stan was glaring at him like he’d be shot at dawn by a firing squad if he didn’t agree. 

“Yes.”

“Fantastic. (Y/N), do you take Mitch Rapp to be your royally wedded husband?” You rolled your eyes, laughing a little, before nodding your head, and grinning when Emma cheered loudly. 

“I do.”

“Emma, the wedding crowns?” He lifted her up, allowing her to place the green one into his hair and the blue one into your own, fixing them to her liking before Stan was pulling her back down to a regular level, and placing her down on the floor. “Would you like to say it?”

He honestly didn't think he could get any worse, or that he could be any more embarrassed than he already was, but then his daughter's next words came, and he thought he may actually throw up a little bit; “You may now kiss the queen!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You may now kiss the queen, Rapp.” Hurley growled at him, and he couldn't believe his mentor was teaming up against him with his own daughter.

“I can’t believe you’re encouraging this in my dau-”

He was cut off with the only action he hadn't been expecting at this moment, his eyes closing as he realized what was happening. Your mouth was pressed to his, a sweet and innocent kiss, pulled in by a handful of his shirt, and he sighed happily into your mouth. Your lips were playing with his delicately, pressing and pulling in soft motions, and he felt like he’d slammed into cloud nine. His hands slipped down to your hips, holding you close to him as he pressed back into you, returning the kiss with everything he had, and feeling like his heart was exploding within his chest. 

It ended way too quickly for his liking, and he chased your lips for a second, pressing another quick peck to your mouth as you smiled at him, before he was opening his eyes, finding you looking just as bashful as he did, as Stan held his hand up for Emma to smash her palm again in a high-five.

Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him in closer, and your lips brushed against the shell of his ear, making a tremor travel along his spine. “I want to go somewhere hot for our honeymoon.”

He was on an all-time high, and he pulled back, catching your lips in a final sweet kiss. “How about for the wedding reception, we have dinner tonight?”

You hummed thoughtfully before a loving expression was finding itself on your face. “Am I dressing up or dressing down?”

He smoothed his hands around to your lower back, pulling you in a little closer. “How about you come over in the comfiest PJs you own, and when you get cold, I can still be a gentleman and give you my jumper?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

[allthingsfangirl101]

Unexpected Friends–Matt Brody

Wattpad Request by violetartsybabe

After high school, I decided to take a break from school. Instead of going to college, I moved to Santa Monica and started working at a boutique.

On Friday, after a particularly busy week, I decided to drink away the stress. I was sitting at the bar, not even one drink finished when I was approached. The second the guy walked up to me, I could smell that he'd been here longer than I had. A lot longer.

"Hi," he smirked as he plopped down onto the barstool next to me.

"Hello," I said, not looking at him. I took a sip of my drink, praying that this guy would take the hint and leave.

He didn't.

"Can I buy you your next round?" He asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him checking me out from head to toe. In my head, I nicknamed him Asshole.

"No thanks," I sighed.

"Come on, baby," he chuckled. "Let me buy you a drink."

"I already said no," I said, my anger building.

"Just one?" He pressed. I finally turned towards him, not bothering to hide my scowl.

"I've already told you twice that I was good," I said through my teeth.

"You look like you could use some company," he chuckled. "And no girl should drink alone."

"Wow," I sighed. "Alright, I guess it's come to this. Leave me alone, Asshole. I had a really shitty day at work and just wanted to have a few drinks by myself. So, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone."

"I'm just trying to help you have a better night," he smirked as he put his hand on my exposed knee. I quickly grabbed it before it could go too high and roughly tore it off of me.

"I don't know how else to say this nicely so I'm gonna have to do it more forcefully," I said through my teeth. I turned towards him as I took a calming breath.

"Fuck off."

"Wow," he smirked. "That's quite the mouth you have there. I'd like to see what else you can do with it."

"Seriously?" I scoffed. Before I could continue tearing this guy's self-confidence into shreds, another guy stepped up behind him, putting his hand roughly on Asshole's shoulder.

"Hey," he said through his teeth, "I believe she told you to fuck off."

I glanced at the new guy as Asshole turned towards him. New Guy looked at Asshole before glancing over at me, sending me a reassuring smile.

"And you are?" Asshole chuckled, making New Guy look away from me.

"He's my boyfriend," I quickly spoke up.

New Guy looked over at me and plastered on the perfect boyfriend smile as he walked over to stand behind me. He draped his arm over my shoulders, standing protectively behind me. He made it so Asshole could see his angry glare, but I couldn't.

Asshole looked between the two of us before clearing his throat. Without saying anything, he stood up and left. I let out a sigh of relief when he was out of earshot.

"Thank you," I sighed as New Guy laughed and walked over, sitting where Asshole was just sitting.

"Well, what kind of guy would I be if I let a guy like that hit on a girl like you?"

"A girl like me?" I playfully challenged.

"I just meant a girl who knows what she wants and what she doesn't want," he chuckled. "She doesn't deserve a guy who likes what he sees and thinks he deserves it."

"Well," I chuckled, "I guess I'm lucky a guy like you was nearby."

"A guy like me?" He teased.

"Sure," I shrugged. "A guy who sees a girl in need and comes to her rescue, expecting nothing in return."

I smirked knowingly as he reached up and scratched the back of his head.

"Maybe not nothing," he annunciated.

"That's fair," I sighed. "Maybe a little something in return."

"I'm Matt," he chuckled as he held his hand out for me to shake. I hesitated before reaching out and shaking his hand.

"I'm Y/N."

                       * * * * *

Nothing happened with that guy from the bar. We stayed and drank for an hour but then he had to go. He didn't tell me why. He just said it was getting late and he had to run. I didn't think too much about it.

It's been a week since I ran into that guy and I've decided that I needed a change. As much fun as the boutique has been to work at, I was started to get in a rut. I didn't have much of a variety to my schedule or even my days. So, that's why I left my boutique job and became a lifeguard.

On my first day, I walked into the main lifeguard shack/office and found my new boss, Mitch Buchannon.

"You must be Y/N," a tall African-American man greeted as he walked out of the office.

"That's me," I greeted.

"Well," he chuckled. "Come on in and we will get you all sorted."

After going over the paperwork, my daily duties, and any questions I had, Mitch decided to show me around the beach. We stood up and as we left his office, I heard a familiar voice.

"Y/N?"

I looked up to see Matt Brody standing in the doorway. I bit my lip as he chuckled.

"You two know each other?" Mitch asked, looking between the two of us.

"Yeah," Matt laughed. "We met a couple of days ago."

"He saved me from an asshole at the bar," I added.

"Really?" Mitch smirked. "You saved a poor damsel in distress?"

"More like saved a poor asshole from getting punched in the balls by said damsel," Matt joked.

Mitch looked at me with raised eyebrows. I just shrugged, not wanting to dignify that comment with a positive or negative response. The two men laughed as Mitch led me outside.

"Hey," Matt called out to me. I turned on my heel to see Matt smirking at me.

"Yes," I teasingly elongated.

"I didn't know you got hired," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Well, when we met, I hadn't," I shrugged. "I started looking for a new job a couple of days after we met. I found this one and Mitch hired me right away."

"Cool," he chuckled, kind of awkwardly. "Looks like we're working together."

"Looks like it."

                       * * * * *

I've been working as a lifeguard for over a month now. I've gotten along really well with everyone, especially Matt. Sometimes, he can be kind of a jerk and he loves pranks, but he can also be really good company. He acts childish, but when he needs to he can have a serious conversation that helps a lot.

He's the reason I decided to go to college. He helped me figure out my major and choose my classes. He even talked to Mitch about moving my work schedule around my school schedule.

I had just finished my midterms as was getting ready to head to work when I saw someone in the middle of campus that I thought I'd never see again: my ex-boyfriend, Lucas Tillman.

Lucas and I dated all through high school. He used to think we'd always be high school sweethearts. That was until he found out I wasn't planning on going to college. The night I told him I was going to take a year or two off, he dumped me.

I put my head down as I quickly walked through campus, praying that he didn't see me. I gasped when I bumped into someone. I looked up, my breath getting caught in my throat when Lucas was holding onto my arms like I was about to fall.

"Y/N?" He chuckled. I took a step back, making his arms fall back to his sides.

"Lucas," I said, my voice getting caught in my throat.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He chuckled.

"I umm. . . I go here," I stuttered.

"No, you don't," he scoffed. "There's no way you got into this school."

As he continued to laugh, I tightened my grip on my books. I was biting back tears as he finally stopped laughing.

"Look, Y/N," he said, still slightly laughing. "If you wanted to see me, you could've just called."

"I didn't want to see you," I whispered to myself.

"So," he said. "Want to go get a drink or dinner or something?"

"I'm good," I said as I tried to walk away. I gasped when he grabbed my hand, stopping me.

"You came all this way," he said as he slowly pulled me closer to him.

"Lucas," I stuttered. "I'm not interested. . . I really don't. . . I have to go."

I let out a sigh of relief when he let go of me. That relief shattered when I saw his glare. "After everything we went through, you're just going to walk away?"

"You did," I said, trying to gather my courage. "Lucas, you broke up with me after high school when I said I needed a break from school. You said you couldn't be with someone who wasn't going anywhere. Well, I have gone somewhere. For the last two years, I worked at a boutique. Now, I'm going to school while working as a lifeguard."

"You're working as a lifeguard?" He asked. I sighed as I nodded. "I break up with you and you suddenly decide to get your life together?"

"Get my life together?" I laughed. "I told you I just needed a year or two off. It's not like I was planning on never going to school. I just wanted to take some time to figure out what I wanted to do. You're the one who dumped me. And now that I have my life figured out, you aren't in it."

"Just wait," he laughed as I left. "You need me, Y/N. And whether you know it or not, you'll be back."

                       * * * * *

I walked into the main lifeguard shack, still on edge from running into Lucas. After I got ready, I walked out of the locker room right as Matt walked into the shack.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted. "How was class?"

"It was fine," I said.

"Whoa," he said, stopping me before I could leave. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen something you shouldn't."

"It's nothing," I tried to say.

"Y/N," he said, his voice soft and gentle. "What happened?"

"It's really not. . ."

"Y/N," he cut me off.

"I ran into my ex," I sighed. "It's just. . . We were together all through high school but broke up after graduation."

"What happened?"

I scoffed as I rolled my eyes and sat down on the couch. Matt studied me before sitting next to me.

"The night before graduation, we were talking about what came next," I started. "He had his whole life planned out. He knew what college he was going to, what classes, what degree, what year he'd graduate, what job he'd get after. He had everything figured out. I didn't."

I took a shaky breath as Matt reached over and grabbed my hand. He intertwined our fingers, squeezing my hand in reassurance.

"When I told him I didn't know what I wanted to do, he got angry. He kept saying that I had to figure it out. I just remember stuttering as he yelled at me. Then I blurted out that I was going to take a year or two off to figure it out. He. . . He didn't like that."

"That's why he dumped you?" Matt asked when he found his voice. I glanced up at him to see his jaw angrily clenched. When I nodded, Matt angrily grunted.

"What an ass," he said mostly to himself. "If the guy truly cared about you, he would've supported you. He would've helped you figure out what it is you wanted to do."

"Like you did?"

I held my breath as he looked over at me. His eyes softened as I started to nervously ramble. "I mean. . . The night we first met at the bar, I told you I had taken a few years off and you said you understood. Then you started helping me figure out what I should do with the rest of my life. You weren't judgy. You weren't pushy. You supported me."

He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the door opening. I let go of his hand and stood up, walking over to my locker. I grabbed my stuff and headed outside for my shift without saying anything else to Matt.

The entire time I was on duty, I kept thinking about what I said. Ever since I started working as a lifeguard, I started spending more time with Matt. And the more time I spent with him, the more I started to like him. I tried to resist falling for him but my crush got bigger each day we worked together.

A few days later, I was on duty and saw Lucas walking towards me. I turned on my heel and started heading towards the lifeguard shack. I was just about to walk inside, but Lucas caught up to me. I gasped as he grabbed my elbow and roughly turned me around.

"Hey, babe," he smirked at me. I looked down at his hand still roughly holding my elbow.

"I'm not. . . I'm not your babe anymore."

"You weren't," he said through his teeth. "But you can be."

"I don't want to be."

"You are nothing without me," Lucas scoffed. "Face it, Y/N. You need me."

"No," I said, finally tearing my arm out of his hold. "I don't need you. I sure as hell don't want you."

"Come on," he scoffed.

"No!" I yelled interrupting him. He looked at me, shocked that I had stood up for myself. Even throughout our relationship, I never disagreed with him. I definitely never yelled at him. But not anymore. I would no longer allow this man to control my life.

"You broke up with me, Lucas," I continued, oblivious to the sudden audience. "You were the one who ended this. I was willing to do long distance, but you weren't willing to stand by me as I figured out what I wanted to do. You told me that you couldn't be with someone who wasn't driven. Well, I am. I just needed time."

"Drive doesn't need time," he scoffed. "You are either ready to go or not."

"That's not true," I said, trying to take back over the conversation. "You can be driven if you don't know where you're going."

"No, you cant." He said through his teeth. When he started laughing, I knew I had lost the power in the conversation. "I was right! I was right to dump you in high school. You weren't going anywhere back then and you still aren't. Look around, Y/N."

When he said that, I finally noticed that Matt was standing outside the lifeguard shack. By the look on his face, I could tell that he had been standing there longer than I knew.

"You're barely working," Lucas laughed, breaking mine and Matt's staring contest. "This is a summer job for a high schooler, Y/N. Not a job for an adult. You should've been going to school and working towards a real career. What? You want to be a lifeguard the rest of your life?"

"No, I. . ." I stuttered.

"Seriously, Y/N," he scoffed. "You need to grow up. I know you sucked in high school, but you won't go anywhere without a degree. I thought you were smarter than that. What? Were you just waiting for a guy to come around and take care of you? You can't depend on a guy to put a roof over your head and food on the table. Do you really think a guy is going to want to marry a girl who's lazy, no degree, no ambition? Guys don't want to marry a girl just to become her caretaker. That's her job. He's not your father, Y/N. Then again, your father left you when you were young so how would you know?"

"Hey!"

We both turned around to see Matt angrily walking towards us. The second he got to us, he turned to me and completely ignored Lucas.

"Are you okay?" He asked under his breath. I nodded, taken back by his sudden outburst and now the concern in his eyes.

"And now you," Matt said through his teeth as he turned around. I felt a blush build as he positioned himself so he was in-between us. "I'm having a hard time understanding why you would speak to a woman like that."

"Who the hell are you?" Lucas asked, glaring around Matt at me.

"I'm Matt," he introduced. "I work with Y/N."

Lucas laughed as he folded his arms over his chest. He glanced at me and scoffed.

"Really?" Lucas challenged. "You spend your days with this Backstreet Boy Reject?"

"Lucas," I sighed.

"Wow," he laughed. "Good to know you're surrounding yourself with quality people, Y/N. I was worried you'd be all alone in your world of No Drive."

"Hey!" Matt yelled again. "I'm only asking you this nicely once. Back off. Turn around and leave."

"Leave?" Lucas challenged. "Really? Last I checked, this didn't concern you. There is no reason you should be in this conversation. I don't even know who you are, Lifeguard. Why don't you go build a sandcastle or something?"

I gasped when Lucas threateningly pushed Matt. I held my breath, waiting for Matt to react. Matt just laughed as he rolled his shoulders.

"Now," Lucas said with a smirk on his face. "If you don't mind, I would like to finish telling this useless girl that she'll amount to nothing."

Without warning, Matt swung his fist, connecting it to Lucas's jaw. I was frozen as Lucas collapsed to the ground. I looked back up at Matt to see him smirking.

"If you keep running your mouth," Matt threatened, "a broken nose will be the least of your problems."

Lucas stood up and angrily glared at Matt. He drifted his eyes to me and his glare darkened.

"She's not worth getting into a fight," Lucas tried to get one last comment in as he turned on his heel and left. Matt just scoffed as he rolled his eyes.

"That's one guy's opinion."

                       * * * * *

After Matt punched Lucas, he stormed off. I didn't get a chance to talk to him before my shift started. I tried to find him but I had no idea where he went.

Throughout my entire shift, I kept searching the beach for Matt. Whenever I went back to the shack, he still wasn't there. I tried to force myself to focus on my job, but I couldn't stop thinking about how Matt stood up for me.

I sighed as I walked into the shack after my shift, I looked around again. My heart sank when my eyes landed on Matt's empty desk.

"He still hasn't come back," Mitch said.

"Where the hell did he go?" I asked, mainly to myself.

"What happened?" Mitch asked as he walked over and leaned on the edge of my desk. "He came in here a few hours ago fuming. He kept mumbling to himself as he grabbed his things and left."

I sighed as I ran my fingers through my hair. "The thing is. . . A few days ago, I ran into my ex. He came back today and tried to force me to get back with him. Matt came over and intervened."

"And by intervened you mean he beat his ass?" Mitch asked with a small smirk.

"No," I said, clearing my throat.

"But?" Mitch asked.

"He may have broken his nose."

My comment made the both of us laugh. I sighed as I leaned back, subconsciously biting my bottom lip. I ignored Mitch's gaze as I played with my fingers.

"Y/N," Mitch started hesitantly. "What's going on with you and Matt?"

"What do you mean?" I stuttered.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Ever since you started working here, Matt's been different."

"Different how?"

"Well, for starters, he works harder, he’s more focused, and he doesn't goof off as much. Oh, and he asked if he can be put on the same schedule as you."

"He did?" I asked, my voice getting caught in my throat. Mitch just smiled at me, patting me on the back as he walked outside.

I slowly got my stuff together, my mind still circling around the idea of Matt switching his schedule so he can work with me. As I headed out to my car, I noticed someone sitting on the lifeguard shack down the beach.

I smiled when I recognized it was Matt. I hesitated before walking towards him. He must've heard me coming because he looked over his shoulder at me. He smiled as I walked over and sat on the edge next to him.

"You kind of disappeared on me," I said, breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry about that," he sighed. "I just. . . Listening to that guy talk to you that way. . . I'm sorry, Y/N. Maybe I shouldn't have punched him, but you didn't deserve that. I don't care who he thinks he is. No one should talk to you like that. You took some time to figure out what you want to do with your life. So what? It doesn't change how amazing you are. It doesn't change how incredible you are. It doesn't change anything about you. You're a hard worker, dedicated, generous, funny, kind, beautiful girl and if he can't. . ."

"Matt," I said his name, softly cutting him off.

He bit his bottom lip as he looked up at me. I couldn't help but hold my breath as he glanced down at my lips. When his eyes returned to mine, he smiled like he made up his mind.

Matt leaned in and softly pressed his lips to mine. I hesitated before kissing him back. As our lips started moving in sync, we both started to relax. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

I was the first to break the kiss, leaning my forehead against his. We were silent as we caught our breaths. Matt leaned back and smiled down at me.

"I don't deserve you," I whispered.

"Yes, you do," he sighed with a small laugh. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. He pulled away, still smiling at me.

"Can I confess something to you?" He asked after a few seconds of hesitation.

"Of course," I said, my head still a little spinny from the kiss.

"I've had an embarrassingly big crush on you since I saved you from that asshole in the bar," he said not looking away from me. "And when you started working here, it just got bigger."

"Really?" I asked, my voice barely audible. I bit my lip when he nodded. "Because I've had this big crush on you since you saved me from that asshole."

Matt smiled as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on my cheek.

"I'm crazy about you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice giving me chills. "Can I take you on a date?"

"I'd really like that, Matt."

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Vampire Mitch/Bloodwhore Stiles; putting it under a cut with warnings for like. Everything lol (but mainly some mentioned self-harm and dub-con in a few spots. And also it’s like 3k long)

The general set up is this: Mitch frequents goth clubs in search of victims to feed on, because that’s the easiest way to find willing prey. One night, he meets Stiles, and is intrigued by the scent of blood on his skin. Later, he finds out it’s because Stiles is cutting, and that night he tried to kill himself, after his father’s recent death, but he couldn’t do it. Then he meets Mitch, and thinks/hopes Mitch will do it for him. 

When he was finished, Mitch cut the pad of his thumb on a fang and rubbed it over the bite. It would stop the bleeding, and Stiles would be healed by morning.

"Look at me," Mitch said, cupping Stiles' cheeks. His eyes were glazed, the glamour already working.

"You're not going to kill me?"

"I told you I wouldn't."

"Oh." Mitch could have sworn he heard a note of disappointment in Stiles' voice, but that wasn't his concern anymore.

Mitch isn’t interested in leaving a trail of bodies; that’s a quick way to attract hunters, and he likes living in peace, thank you very much. 

He sees Stiles a very different times before it becomes a regular thing. Even after taking his memories the first time, Stiles is drawn to him, and he keeps coming back.

Mitch has no guilt for what he’s doing with Stiles; he’s totally fine letting his pretty boy cut himself when it means he can lick up the blood, and Stiles is perfectly happy to be his blood whore. It gives him a sense of purpose again, it makes him feel needed, giving him something he needs to survive. (Though as we saw in the above snippet, Mitch doesn’t need Stiles when he can get blood from anyone, reminding him of his place.) But Stiles doesn’t need the reminder; he knows Mitch could easily find someone else. But this is the most content he’s felt since his dad died, so he’ll take whatever he can get. 

But poor Stiles felt so alone and useless after his dad died and his friends moved on, so why keep going, right? But now he has a reason to live. Even if it’s not a good one, it’s good enough for him, and Mitch is happy to keep him around like a beloved pet. 

Mitch pushed up Stiles' sleeve, his fingertips brushing along the lines of scars. There were dozens, too many to count, some deeper than others. Nights when he had been more determined, no doubt.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked softly, watching blood bead along a fresh cut that Stiles had hastily tried to hide, jerking down his sleeves and crossing his arms even when it pained him to do so.

Stiles was ashamed of his weakness, his pale cheeks showing his humiliation. He didn't try to pull away now that his shame was bared; there was no point, nowhere left to hide.

"To feel something, I guess."

"I could smell the blood on you when we met. I didn't know why." Mitch looked up at Stiles, understanding in his dark eyes. "You wanted me to kill you that night, didn't you?" Slowly, Stiles nodded.

"I couldn't do it… I tried, but I couldn't. I thought it would be easier if something else made the choice for me."

Mitch bit his lip then tenderly kissed Stiles' arm, smearing his blood over the wound so that it would heal. When he sat back up, Stiles had tears in his eyes; he gave Mitch a watery smile.

"I like it when you bite me, you know. It didn't hurt that first time. I thought it would, but it felt… I don't know. Better than this. Will you do it again?

"If Mitch were a better man, then he would leave his lover, get him the help he so dearly needed. Instead he let Stiles climb into his lap, folded into him and held Stiles closer. Turned to gently sink his teeth into Stiles' wrist when he offered it, petting his hands down Stiles' back when he shivered from the elation.

Mitch is Complicated. On the one hand, he does like Stiles, and wishes he weren’t so sad that he turned to self harm. On the other hand, he’s a selfish creature by nature, and he can’t deny that he benefits from it. Pretty soon, though, Stiles trades his blades for Mitch’s fangs. 

Then one night, further into the relationship, but not far enough that Mitch has Feelings yet (so he’s still a soulless prick), Stiles starts asking some morbid questions. Eventually Mitch says something like if he wanted to, he could keep Stiles young and beautiful forever. And that’s the end of the conversation; he doesn’t offer to do it, and Stiles doesn’t ask, thinking that if Mitch wanted to keep him around that long, Mitch would offer to. So he’ll just content himself with however long he gets with Mitch before he eventually gets bored and kills him.

The blood ritual wouldn’t turn Stiles; he’d be more than human, but less than a vampire. It would bind him to Mitch as his blood whore forever. But the catch: if Mitch dies, so will Stiles. Interdependence at its finest. 

But as far as Mitch is concerned, Stiles is a sweet snack pack with the added benefit of sex, and feeding while fucking is quite the high; it’s not something he’s had in a long time, because he doesn’t like to sleep with someone and then take their memories of the night. He does have some morals. But he hasn’t decided if Stiles is worth keeping around forever, yet, which is why he doesn’t offer to do it. 

Changing tracks to much later in the relationship, which Mitch has caught Serious Feelings (but is still in denial). Mitch works in the hospital which is how he normally gets his blood, which his weekly outings being used to get something fresher than the frozen stuff. Then one day while he’s on shift, Stiles gets brought into the emergency room. 

Whatever happened, Stiles almost dies and Mitch realizes that he really doesn’t want to lose him. And not even because it would be inconvenient to go out and find someone to replace him, he just Really Enjoys Stiles (it’s okay Mitch, you can admit you love him) and he is unwilling to give him up. So he shoots Stiles up with his blood to help him heal/keep him alive, and after he offers to do the binding ritual for Stiles, to keep something like this from happening again, because he can not risk losing Stiles again. What if someone hadn’t called an ambulance? What if it had been just a little slower to respond? What if Mitch hadn’t been there? It’s not something he’s willing to consider; Stiles means too much to him. But Stiles just has hearts and sparkles in his eyes because Mitch! wants!! to keep him!!!

Once Stiles gets discharged and Mitch takes him home from the hospital, he’s still weak from the blood loss, and they should really wait before attempting the ritual, but Stiles doesn’t want to give Mitch a chance to rethink his offer. (He wouldn’t, but Stiles has self-worth issues). So they do it practically as soon as they’re through the door; there’s set up of course, preparations to be made, but as soon as it’s physically possible, they’re doing it. (Featuring bloodplay and ritual sex for the win.) 

My friend once asked if the binding out reinforce Stiles’ obsession with needed to be worthy of Mitch, or if it would comfort him, and it’s definitely the latter. The ritual is damn serious; it binds their souls, and it can’t be broken; it’s not something a vampire does lightly. Most never find someone they care about that deeply, that they would tie their lives together in a way that one can’t live without the other. Not when it’s so much easier to make a thrall, and have a similar effect. But it’s about more than having a slightly-immortal-human to feed on. It’s about complete devotion to the one person you want to spend eternity with. 

Mitch isn’t very emotionally expressive most of the time. Nothing extreme, anyway. His natural state of being is pretty apathetic, just as a result of being undead. But when he almost lost Stiles, he was devastated, and Stiles was just aware enough to see how broken Mitch was at the possibility of him dying. It’s enough to tell him Mitch really does care for him, that it wasn’t just an act to keep Stiles coming back, or a passing infatuation. Mitch loves him, enough that he can’t live without him. 

(Not back to the beginning of their story) 

Stiles could barely breathe past the hand around his throat, Mitch’s nails lengthening into sharp claws that savaged his skin. His smile was cruel as Stiles scratched at his hand, trying to pull it away.

“I like you, Stiles,” he said, sweeter than poisoned honey, “but I don’t need you. Don’t forget that.”

Mitch carelessly cast him aside, leaving Stiles to collapse in a gasping heap on the filthy alley floor. The vampire stalked off without so much as a look back, having already forgotten about the pathetic human pleading for him to come back.

In the beginning of their acquaintance, Mitch is Very Unkind at times. He has no problem using Stiles up and throwing him away when he’s done like a Capri Sun. He’s not always like that, a lot of times he’s perfectly nice, but he’s also a fickle bitch. It’s no wonder Stiles is so desperate to please, because now that he’s been with Mitch, he can’t imagine not having him again.

(Heads up for some lamb-to-the-slaughter flavored dubcon)

Mitch left Stiles feeling thoroughly used, curled up in filthy sheets with every part of his body aching. There was nothing left unscathed, from the welts raked down his chest by sharp claws to his aching insides from too rough sex. His fingers were cramped from digging into the sheets, a litany of bite marks spanning his neck and shoulders and thighs, angry red and still sluggishly bleeding, a perfect match to the thin scratches and cuts covering his chest.

Stiles curled up around a pillow, wrapped around it for comfort. He felt cold, colder than Mitch. His lover hadn’t bothered to heal him this time, not sharing the rejuvenating properties of his blood before he left. Tonight, he wanted Stiles to hurt. Even as he sniffled into his pillow Stiles smiled to himself; it smelled like sex and blood and Mitch, comforting even if he lover wasn’t there to hold him.

(That sounds worse than it is in context; Stiles likes the rough sex lol. But he’s also being super self-destructive about it, basically using Mitch as a replacement for his self-harm. Once Mitch figures that out, he’s sweeter during sex.)

Mitch is super dismissive when he wants to be. But he can also be kind. After that,t he next time he sees Stiles he’s very gentle with him, making love instead of making him hurt, and Stiles loves that side of him, too. Especially when Mitch stays afterwards, feeding him chocolate and giving him kisses as a reward for being his good boy, and making amends for being so rough with him. Sometimes he forgets Stiles is only a delicate human. 

There’s also the issue that vampires feel differently than humans. I keep mentioning that his emotions are dulled, because once you’ve been alive for hundreds of years, things starts to just... flatten. Which means Mitch can be incredibly callous, and not take into account how Stiles feels. It’s easy to treat him like an object. 

But no matter what Mitch does, Stiles is never afraid of him. Not even when Mitch probably tries to scare him; when he realizes he’s catching feelings, and doesn’t know what to with that, so he tries to push Stiles away by frightening him. But Stiles refuses to see him as a monster. But it’s not just that: what’s Mitch going to do, kill him? That’s what Stiles originally wanted, anyway, and now he would rather die than live without him. Stiles has zero sense for self preservation. 

(Mitch is... a little concerned about that, actually, when he realizes just how deep it goes. Stiles is the complete opposite to him, as someone who’s a pure survivalist, that only cares about himself and staying alive. Stiles cares about everyone else, and doesn’t care if he lives or dies.) But it doesn’t matter what Mitch does, as long as he keeps coming back, and that has him like woah. That’s A Lot for him. He doesn’t even really understand it, because he’s never felt like that about someone before. (Except Stiles, of course, he’s just in denial. He doesn’t truly get how deep he is until the hospital incident.) 

(And now to the end of the story, so to speak.)

After they do the ritual, part of the binding is that they can feel what the other is feeling. This means Stiles can immediately tell when Mitch is in a Mood, and knows just what he needs, and the reverse is true. Stiles deflects with humor, but Mitch can always tell what he’s really feeling. Now he has no choice but to consider Stiles’ emotions, and the bond takes away all the guesswork. 

Then of course the feedback loop is a thing. Mitch hasn’t been able to feel strong emotions in centuries, but like everything about Stiles, his emotions are so vibrant. He feels things so deeply, it’s a rush, and Mitch can’t get enough. It’s like a drug; he does something to make Stiles happy/pleased/excited and he gets some of that back, and it’s Great. (He liked pleasing his precious boy before, but now it’s Even More, and Stiles has to admit, he loves it. He thinks it’s cute the way Mitch does different things to see the effect it has on him, like a kid with a new science experiment. It’s adorable.) 

Unfortunately, the binding has an unforeseen consequence. 

Ronnie, the vampire that turned Mitch, finds out he has a new pet. Word travels, and it’s not every century someone is binding themselves to a human. And isn’t that just the sweetest *gag*. It’s clear Mitch adores Stiles, and really? Mitch of all people has fallen in love with a human? Ronnie almost doesn’t believe it. (He was probably very Vlad the Impaler back in the day. Dracula Untold kind of vamp.)

Ronnie thinks it’s pathetic. He thought Mitch was better than that. It was bad enough the way he used to get so guilty when he killed someone to feed, starving himself for days or weeks at a time until he couldn’t take it anymore, instead of killing whoever and whenever he wanted like Ronnie. (Little bit Lestat and Louis, but Mitch isn’t that much of a bitch about it. Maybe more Damon and Stefan; Mitch overdid it when he was first turned, then felt bad about it once he got a handle on himself, and went to the other extreme trying to make up for it. Now he’s equaled out.) Anyway, now Mitch has reached a whole new low in Ronnie’s eyes. 

So, he decided to pay Mitch a visit, see if the rumors are true, and finds him being all disgustingly domestic and in love with Stiles. Hardly the fearsome predator befitting a vampire of his status, and he is irrationally angry over it. Feels betrayed. The meeting doesn’t go well. Mitch tells him to fuck himself and stay the hell away from his mate -and isn’t that interesting. Mitch knows it was a mistake as soon as he said it, but he can’t take it back, can’t pretend like Ronnie didn’t hear it. He really has drunk the Kool-Aid; Stiles isn’t even just a bloodwhore for him anymore; he’s gone and fallen in gross, sticky love with the human. 

Ronnie leaves, but not for long. He decides to find out what it is about this particular human that’s got Mitch all ruffled and weak-kneed, and kidnaps him. He bides his time until Stiles is alone, Mitch nowhere near close enough to save him. Stiles wasn’t there for the initial reunion, but he can guess who Ronnie is; Mitch has told him about his life, and who he was before, when he was still human. About the monster that turned him. But he knows Mitch will find him. 

Mitch immediately knows Stiles is in danger, can feel his distress through the bond, but by the time he comes home it’s too late. They’re gone. The house is trashed, and he can smell Stiles’ blood, and he has no idea where they could have gone, and he can’t think because all he can feel is Stiles’ fear, and it’s driving him crazy because he doesn’t know what to do. Where to even begin looking for them. 

Ronnie starts off by torturing Stiles, knowing it will get Mitch riled up. Drinks his blood, makes him hurt. He’s not particularly impressed; there’s nothing special about Stiles, he’s just another human. Nothing he can see to make him worth tying his life to Mitch’s own, putting his own life at risk. Because just like Stiles will die with Mitch, the reverse is also true. 

Slowly, Ronnie begins to use his thrall on Stiles. He’s gradual with it, so that his slow acceptance of his new place in life feels natural. Stiles doesn’t even realize it isn’t, so of course Mitch won’t. Until Stiles is completely under Ronnie’s influence, a perfect little blood slave, who Ronnie keeps naked and chained to his bed. Not because he’s particularly interested, but because it keeps Stiles afraid, he knows it will kill Mitch to imagine the kinds of things he’s done to his mate. (Not that Ronnie would eve debase himself by lying with a human, he’s Better Than That, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have his fun in other ways...) 

Since it’s not so much physical feeling that comes through the bond, Mitch would have no way to know if someone else was touching Stiles, or if he was being ordered to touch himself, putting on a show for Ronnie’s amusement. Mitch would only know that Stiles was getting off, and assume the worst given the circumstances. But with how much Ronnie hates humans, and is angry at Stiles in particular for having one of his old “friends” whipped like a bitch, it wouldn’t be far-fetched for him to find someone else unsavory to play with Stiles for a while, and give him back his mind just enough that the fear bleeds through to Mitch. 

By the time Mitch finds them, Stiles is barely clinging to life. He’s slightly more immortal than your average bear, but he’s still only human, and Ronnie has been doing the bare minimum not to kill him, if only because he doesn’t want to actually kill Mitch (yet). He still hopes he can bring Mitch back to his way of things, and relegate Stiles back to the worthless bloodwhore he is. 

Mitch finds them mid-feeding, and Stiles’ heartbeat if so faint, Mitch would think he was dead if not for the fact that he was still standing. Ronnie has been keeping him weak as a kitten from the frequent feedings; Stiles doesn’t even register Mitch is there. 

Of course Mitch is going to kill Ronnie for what he’s done, Stiles watching in a daze from the bed, feeling like it’s all a dream, still under the effects of Ronnie’s compulsion. It finally breaks when Mitch tears his throat out, and Stiles is so relieved but he’s also so tired. And then Mitch is there, holding him, wrapping a blanket around him, trying to keep him warm. Gives Stiles his blood to help him heal, and Stiles sluggishly realizes Mitch is offering to turn him, but Stiles doesn’t want that, because then Mitch won’t be able to feed on him anymore - except Mitch doesn’t care, he just wants Stiles to be safe, strong enough to protect himself, since apparently he can’t, he failed, and he can’t risk that happening again so please-

But Stiles refuses, because it might not be important to Mitch, but it’s important to him, because it means Mitch still needs him, and if Mitch turns him, he’ll be taking that away. He’s half right; Mitch does need him, but he’s never needed Stiles for his blood. 

[the-shy-book-wyrm]

Hollowed Part 2:

When Lucas arrived home his mom immediately rushed to Lucas’s side, startling him.

“Where have you been? School ended thirty minutes ago!” Lucas’s mom said, hugging her son as if he’d disappear.

“Elizabeth, let the poor kid go. You’re squeezing him to death,” Lucas’s dad, Mitch, chuckled walking to the doorway where his family was.

“I was just talking to… some kids,” Lucas said, unsure of how to describe his interaction with Jackson and the others. Mitch and Elizabeth both raised their brows at Lucas. They had noticed their son wasn’t social with other kids, choosing to stay in his room and play video games, which had worried them. Hearing that he was interacting with other kids relieved them and made them happy.

They waited for Lucas to talk more on the subject, but Lucas remained silent, setting his backpack on the ground. They didn’t push Lucas for details, wanting Lucas to open up to them on his own.

“Well, now that you’re here we can all have dinner now!” Lucas’s mom said, going back to the kitchen followed by Lucas and his father.

Once dinner and homework were done, Lucas went to sleep. He dreamed he was running in the dark through a forest. Terror made his heart jump in his throat and he tore through branches that scratched his cheeks and arms. He didn’t know what he was running from, but he knew he had to get away from whatever was chasing him. Even though Lucas had a hard time making out where to go he spotted a huge tree trunk that would give him good coverage while he caught his breath.

He quickly ran to the tree and slammed his back hiding behind it, panting. He didn’t dare peek to see if his pursuer was behind him. He could hear the crunch of branches and leaves a few feet away.

“Lucas!”

Lucas’s eyes widened at the familiar voice and suddenly Lucas jerked awake from the nightmare. He was covered in sweat and his hand instinctively grabbed his chest as he panted heavily. Lucas’s heart pounded against his chest from the terror he had felt from the dream. He took deep breaths trying to calm himself down. It was just a dream, Lucas kept repeating to himself, although he was still trembling.

He shakily got up from bed deciding to go to the bathroom and splash his face with cold water. After he was done he tip-toed back to his room, but paused when he heard his parents’ hushed voices coming from the living room. He crept towards the living room to listen to what they were talking about.

“-so nice Lucas is socializing now! I was worried he would never talk to others his age since we found him,” Lucas’s mom sighed, relieved.

Since they found me? Lucas thought, confused, and listened more intensely.

“I know, honey, I was worried too. It seems like he’s grown a lot compared to how we found him.”

“God, I was so terrified when he ran in front of our car! Good thing you braked as quickly as you did.”

“Remember how bruised and scratched he was though? Do you ever think it was from his real parents?” Lucas’s father asked.

“I hope not. He’s probably been through so much already… I think we should wait a little while longer before telling him this. I don’t want to bring back painful memories for him,” Elizabeth sniffled.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” Mitch comforted his wife. Lucas had then tuned out whatever they started to say next feeling shocked and dazed at the revelation of events. They weren’t his real parents? What had happened? Why couldn’t he remember how he got here?

Lucas gripped his head feeling a terrible headache crushing his skull. All of this was too much information. Lucas wished he could go back in time and not have listened in on his parents- no Mitch and Elizabeth. Why hadn’t they told him? Lucas’s head spun, trying to come up with answers.

The only conclusion that he had come up with was that he probably ran away from his biological parents which would explain the dream he had earlier of running through the forest. He started to piece everything together from the dream and what he overheard and it all started to make sense. The dream must have been a repressed memory! Lucas nodded to himself and his anxiety started to slowly diminish. That’s what happened, Lucas told himself, assuredly.

However, Lucas was still upset that his “parents” didn’t tell him about finding him. He decided to try and act normal around them until they told Lucas themselves. When morning came though Lucas remained silent and standoffish towards Mitch and Elizabeth, worrying them again. Lucas decided instead to hang out with Jackson and the others as much as possible to avoid his “parents”.

For three weeks, Lucas spent time with Jackson and the others playing games like tag and hide-and-go-seek in the cornfield. It seemed childish for Lucas to be playing these games, but the kids would persuade him and he couldn’t say no to them. They were his friends and playing games took his mind off Mitch and Elizabeth as well as the boiling questions he had about his biological parents. The questions started to eat him from the inside out and he could tell the others started to take notice as he started to become quiet and less enthusiastic.

“Lucas, do you want to join us? We found a lake nearby and we were going to explore there?” One of the kids, Milo, asked.

“Maybe another time,” Lucas said, smiling weakly. He wanted to stay sitting in the cornfield for a little bit and collect his thoughts. The other kids looked at each other worried, but let Lucas have some time alone.

One boy, Kane, hung back for a moment looking over his shoulder like he wanted to say something, but Jackson suddenly appeared from behind Lucas, startling him. Jackson swiftly motioned his hand at Kane to go with the others. He hesitated for a moment, looking worriedly at Lucas, but then turned around and followed the others. After Kane was out of sight, Jackson crouched and sat next to Lucas on the ground.

“Something troubling you, Lucas?”

He pulled his legs close to his chest and rested his head on his knees. Lucas wanted to talk about what was bothering him, but now he had a hard time trying to gather his thoughts and tell Jackson what was bothering him.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that is fine as well.”

“Well…” He felt nervous talking about something very personal with Jackson, but Lucas knew he would understand and listen.

“I found out that my parents aren’t actually my biological parents.”

Jackson’s carved smile didn’t change as he heard and he remained quiet for a moment. Lucas couldn’t tell what Jackson was thinking and it started to make him feel uneasy.

“Ah,” was all Jackson had responded and Lucas stared up at him.

“Is that all?” Lucas asked, feeling his anger starting to rise. He thought Jackson would be surprised at the very least, but he sounded indifferent. Jackson shrugged.

“Parents tend to lie, Lucas. It doesn’t entirely surprise me that they have lied to you about being your parents.”

Lucas stayed silent for a moment. He didn’t understand why his parents didn’t tell him before. If they told him from the beginning then he would have understood, but Mitch and Elizabeth kept it from him as if his feelings didn’t matter.

“Why didn’t they tell me?” Lucas whispered.

“Parents think they are protecting their kids when they keep secrets from them, but in reality they keep secrets for their own personal gain.”

“What do you mean?”

Jackson sighed, exasperated, and leaned back on his elbows.

“People believe they are doing a good deed, but they are actually doing it to make themselves feel good. Parents are no exception. They don’t do things out of the kindness of their hearts. It’s like giving yourself a pat on the back for a job well done.” Jackson turned to Lucas, noticing how confused and upset he was. He placed a hand on Lucas’s shoulder, comfortingly.

“I would never lie to you, Lucas. You can always count on the children and myself to never lie to you and to give you great memories.”

Lucas felt comforted by Jackson’s words, but he still felt hollow inside. He was upset with Mitch and Elizabeth, he had every reason to be mad, but Lucas felt like his emotions had become a tangled mess that he couldn’t interpret. It made him more frustrated.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Maybe I should have gone to the lake with the others to distract myself, Lucas thought to himself. The sound of the stalks of corn being pushed aside from afar drew Jackson and Lucas’s attention. His attention then went to Jackson and he pondered if his pumpkin head was real or if it was a part of a costume. He had been wondering since he first met Jackson, but he forgot to ask him about it.

Without thinking, Lucas reached his hand out, shakily, for Jackson’s pumpkin head to see if it was real or not. Jackson remained oblivious with his head turned away from Lucas as his hand got closer. Suddenly, Jackson held his wrist in a tight grip and Lucas froze his blood running cold as he stared at Jackson. His usual pleasant smile altered into a frown where the carved edges looked sharper, deadly even, and his round eyes narrowed into slits.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Jackson said in a deep, guttural tone. Lucas was paralyzed at Jackson’s glare, unable to look away. He had never seen Jackson so angry before. He opened and closed his jaw a few times, trying to find his voice.

“S-Sorry,” Lucas finally managed.

In the blink of an eye, Jackson’s smile returned, making Lucas flinch from the sudden change. He released Lucas’s wrists from his iron grip.

“It’s rude to touch someone without their permission,” Jackson said, flatly.

Lucas shakily placed his hands onto his lap and didn’t look in the direction of Jackson again. The tension and awkwardness hung between them making it almost suffocating. Thankfully, the kids appeared from where the noise was coming from before. Lucas smiled at them weakly, trying his best to calm his nerves.

Seeing his uneasiness, the kids gathered around Lucas and told him all about their adventure at the lake, trying to cheer him up. It was a nice distraction from everything that had occured. The kids continued to tell him stories of the places they had traveled to and it seemed they had been all over the place, never sticking around in one place for more than a month. Lucas couldn’t imagine constantly moving places; never having a permanent home. He didn’t feel like he had a home anymore since finding out Mitch and Elizabeth’s secret and now the incident with Jackson.

After that day, Lucas wasn’t sure if he wanted to visit Jackson and the others anymore, but he didn’t have anyone else to talk to and didn’t want to be alone. Conflicted with his feelings, he decided to stay home for a few days.

When he came home from school, Lucas stayed in his room and spent the majority of time playing video games or watching tv. Mitch and Elizabeth started to become concerned and knocked gently on his bedroom door to figure out what was troubling him.

“It’s open,” Lucas shouted from his bed where he was playing games on his phone. Mitch and Elizabeth walked in and Lucas quickly sat up. Seeing both his “parents” walk in, he immediately knew that they were going to lecture him about something.

“Hey. Is everything alright, sweetie?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yeah. Everything is fine.” Everything wasn’t fine for Lucas though. He was still angry with them about keeping such a huge secret that involved him to themselves.

“You sure? You’ve stayed in your room for days now, besides going to school, and you haven’t talked to us in a while.”

“I’m fine,” Lucas snapped. It wasn’t their place to be concerned about him. They weren’t his real parents.

“Hey! What’s gotten into you?” Mitch asked. Lucas finally had enough with their pretending to be concerned.

“I know you're not my biological parents,” he spat out.

Their eyes widened in surprise and they both glanced at each other as if they were communicating with just a look.

“How do you know that?” Elizabeth asked, choked up.

“I heard you both talking about it downstairs a few weeks ago.” If Elizabeth is looking for sympathy by crying then she’s not getting any from me, Lucas thought.

“We wanted to tell you, but-”

“But what? You were just “protecting” me? You were just protecting yourself by keeping it from me!” Lucas shouted, feeling his rage and pain overtake him. “Stop acting like you care about me because I know you don’t! You took me in so you could feel good about yourselves for picking me up on the side of the road and now you’ve made me your problem!”

All of a sudden, Elizabeth pulled Lucas in a tight hug sobbing into his shoulder. Lucas stiffened in the embrace. He wanted to push her away- he knew it would hurt her feelings almost as much as they hurt him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“You're not a problem and we really do care about you! We love you so much and you are a part of this family.”

“It was selfish of us to keep this from you, Lucas,” Mitch chimed in. “We didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t wanted knowing that you weren’t our biological son. Also, a few weeks after we took you in, you repressed your memories of your previous family and we didn’t want to bring up anything unwanted.”

Elizabeth pushed Lucas slightly away and cupped his cheeks, brushing the angry tears that started to fall. Lucas still felt angry at being lied to, he knew the pain wouldn’t go away for a while, but in a way he felt better after letting out all his anger instead of bottling it any longer.

“We wanted you to have a happy life with us. You as our son and us as your parents.”

“You should have told me,” Lucas sniffed, whipping away the hot tears streaming down his cheeks.

“We know,” Mitch agreed. “You have every right to be mad at us, but don’t think for a second that we never loved you. As far as we’re concerned, you are our son.”

In his heart, Lucas knew that they were his parents. He didn’t remember his biological parents, but Mitch and Elizabeth took care of him the best they could. He could see how much they loved him now as if he was their biological son. Still, Lucas couldn’t shake the hurt from them not telling him. He needed time for the pain to go away, but he knew that if he didn’t say something it would break their hearts and make their relationship irreparable.

“I’m still upset that you didn’t tell me, but I feel like you are my parents as well.”

Elizabeth and Mitch smiled at Lucas and then Elizabeth started sobbing again. Lucas startled as she hugged him even tighter than before and Mitch joined in on the group hug. It felt nice and comforting.

Days passed since Lucas confronted his parents and things went back to normal. Except, he started to become anxious staying cooped up in the house after coming home from school. He wanted to see his friends again, but his interaction with Jackson still haunted him. Lucas started becoming irritated having nothing to do at home and decided to start seeing his friends in the cornfield again.

They welcomed him with open arms, asking why he stopped showing up and if they had done something wrong. Lucas reassured them that they had done nothing wrong and he just had some things to take care of. The kids then talked his ear off with all the things they had been up to when he was gone and urged him to play games with them again.

Gradually, Lucas started talking with Jackson again after the incident. It’s my fault that I got Jackson so angry. I shouldn’t have tried to see if his head was real or not, Lucas thought to himself. As Lucas talked to Jackson more, he would ask if Lucas wanted to join them in traveling.

Even though Lucas still hadn’t entirely forgiven his parents, his answer every time would be that he couldn’t leave his parents behind. They raised Lucas for as long as he could remember and they really did love him. They spoiled him with anything he wanted and never pressured him to do something he didn’t want to. Plus, Lucas had a life in Arswick. Even if it was a small town and one day he would want to move to somewhere bigger, he had no plans on leaving anytime soon. Jackson would seem disappointed by the answer, but he would still ask in case Lucas changed his mind when he visited.

[hopelikethemoon]

Freedom (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Freedom  Rating: PG-13 Length: 3000 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. This is a Javier-less chapter, which is why I noted that this would be a very different type of update. This chapter is set in September of 1977, when Reader is 16. If you don’t know her backstory you can find info at the link above. If you want to know who I see as Mitch and Darla click on their names.  Summary: Reader finally escapes her situation.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen@arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl​ @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque@theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou@yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110​

“You’ll have your own room,” Mitch explained, glancing at you out of the corner of his eyes. “That’ll be nice, right?”

You nodded your head slowly, rubbing at your forehead as you watched the outskirts of the city bleed into the towering office buildings and quaint streets lined with brownstones and historic homes. You had never been out of your hometown and Philadelphia seemed like a daunting change of pace. 

Your life up until this point had been confined to a perimeter that contained your house and school. 

“And you’ll never have to live through another one of those floods.” Mitch rambled — he’d rambled a lot since he had picked you up nearly four hours ago. “That had to be scary.”

You shrugged, picking at the hem of your tee. “Not the worst thing to happen to me.” You admitted, glancing out the window again. “My mom acted like the world was going to end because she couldn’t get out of the house. Like goddamn mom, people are dead.”

Mitch cleared his throat, “I’m not looking to parent you, but you know Darla and I have a Tate—“

“Shit.” You laughed quietly, covering your mouth. “I’ll try to curb the cussing.” 

“Thanks.” He nodded his head. “And you know Darla and I are here for you, if you ever need anything.”

“I’m not looking to be a burden, promise.” You told him, winding your finger through a lock of hair as you watched out the window. “You don’t even have to feed me.”

“I’m not going to let you go hungry.” Mitch gave you a look. “Come on now, kid.”

“I can cook!” You scrunched up your nose. “I just don’t want you or Darla to feel like I’m taking advantage of your hospitality.” The last thing you wanted was to become your mother. Leeching off other people. 

“You’re my sister.”

“We share a father,” You pointed out. “Be glad you don’t share my mother.”

“Dad told me plenty of stories.” Mitch grimaced, “I don’t know how you made it out of there in one piece, kid.”

“I might have nine toes. I haven’t counted lately.” You snorted, “Think there’s a black market in toes for coke?”

“Jesus Christ.” He grimaced, before quickly changing the subject. “That’s the school you’ll be going to.”

You peered out the window at the school, “Better than Richland.”

“It’s where Darla went. It’s a great preparatory school for girls.”

“An all-girls school?” You groaned, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“You're more likely to get a scholarship there.”

“Fine.” You couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that. You still had the two and a half years of school to finish before you could think about college — but a scholarship would help. “I don’t need any distractions anyways.”

Mitch gave you a curious look, “Kid, you’re allowed to be a teen, you know. Don’t hold back from living just because you’re staying with us.”

“It’s not that,” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “I’ve never really been a kid or whatever. I don’t plan on regressing just because I don’t have to deal with the witch.”

“Dad always said you were wise beyond your years,” Mitch remarked, turning down Chestnut Street and parking the car in front of a gorgeous brick townhome. 

“You live here?”

“Darla’s folks gifted it to her when they moved out west,” Mitch explained to you as he put the car in park.

“Oh so, rich-rich.” You gave him an amused look. “Looking at you, pitching out of your league.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Mitch rolled his eyes, climbing out of the car and shutting the car door behind him. 

You climbed out of the car, moving around to the trunk as he unlocked it. “I really do appreciate this, Mitch. I’ll do whatever you guys need me to do. Vacuuming, dishes, I’ll even babysit — I can’t promise I’m good.” 

“Kid, you’re family not the new nanny.”

“New?”

“We’re in-between currently.”

“Jesus.” You whistled. “Well, I promise not to bring the property value down. It’ll be like I’m not even there. Promise.”

Mitch shook his head, “I look forward to you warming up to us. This can be your home, kid. You don’t have to act like a visitor.”

You shrugged your shoulders as you slung your duffel bag over your shoulder. “I tried the ‘home’ thing, but dad’s dead... so.” 

“I’m just saying, you can put down roots.” Mitch pulled the cardboard box out of the trunk, before he started up the stairs to the townhouse. Darla must’ve been waiting just behind the door, because she swung it open the second your feet hit the stop.

“Look at you!” Darla grinned broadly at you, “You’ve shot up like a weed since the wedding.”

“We saw each other at the funeral,” You reminded her with an awkward laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear as you warily looked around their house. “But thanks.”

Mitch was about thirteen years older than you. You had seen him only a handful of times over the course of your life. His mother, Patrice, had always been kind to you — your father and Patrice were the type of divorced parents you’d wished your own mother had been. They were still friends, up until his death. 

Before the funeral, the last time you had seen Mitch was at his wedding. He’d wanted you to actually be part of the wedding, but someone had gone postal at the thought of someone else’s family liking you. You were also only ten — what could you do about anything?

“Tate, sweetheart, this is your aunt.” Darla crouched down beside the little boy. “Say hello.”

“Hello!”

“Hi, Tate.” You smiled at him. “And how old are you?”

“Almost six.” He beamed, “Do you like cars?”

You shrugged, “They get you from point a to point b.”

“He’s been collecting Hot Wheels.” Mitch explained to you, “I’m sure he’ll show you his collection.”

Tate nodded excitedly. “Do you wanna see them now?”

“Oh—“

Mitch ruffled Tate’s hair, “Actually buddy, I’m sure your aunt would love to see them, but we need to get her unpacked. Alright?”

You glanced at Mitch before looking back to Tate, “You can show me after dinner.”

“Why don’t you go play out back?” Darla suggested, sending Tate down the hallway. “He’s been so excited about having someone to play with.”

“I see.” You nodded, your eyes flickering around the entryway, back towards the living room area. It was different to see a house that was put together. They had nice pieces of furniture and none of them were broken or unusually stained. 

Mitch cleared his throat, “If you want to, of course. Six-year-old boys can be quite rambunctious.”

You offered a strained smile, “I’m happy to help, like I said.” 

“Do you need help with anything from the car?” Darla questioned, clasping her hands together. “That can’t be all you broug—“

Mitch made a gesture to silence her, which you caught out of the corner of your eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“This is all I have,” You gestured between your duffel bag and the box he held. “I promised I wouldn’t take up too much room.”

“Speaking of your room,” Darla grinned at you. “I hope you don’t hate purple. I went a little overboard once Mitch brought up you moving in.”

She led you up a flight of stairs lined with family pictures, which led to a hallway of bedrooms. 

“Ours is at the end of the hall, beside Tate’s. You’re over here.” Mitch explained, pushing open the doorway that led to a bedroom that was at least double what your room had been before.

“Wow.” You breathed out as you stepped inside, holding your duffel bag close to you as you looked around. “Guys, I told you I didn’t need much, this feels…”

“Homey?” Darla questioned. “That’s what I was going for.”

You put on a smile as you nodded your head. You knew you had to be grateful. Mitch didn’t have to give you a place to live. Sure, your dad had wanted it, but that didn’t mean he had to. 

You were emancipated from your mother now, you could go anywhere — live…. anywhere. Realistically, you had three options; your mother’s, Mitch’s, or the street. 

“Homey… is a great word.” You threw your duffle bag down on the foot of the bed, watching as Mitch sat the cardboard box with your few personal items down on the floor. 

“You’ll be starting at Girls’ High next week.” Darla explained. “We can go shopping for your uniform this weekend. That’ll give you a few days to settle into your new life here.”

“Thank you,” You told her with a slightly more sincere smile. “Thank you both.”

Mitch scratched at the back of his neck, “Yeah, well, it’s what dad would’ve wanted.”

“I miss him.”

“Me too.” He nodded. “Alright, well we will give you a chance to settle in. Dinner is usually around six.”

Darla smiled at you, “No pressure. You can join us or I can bring a plate up. I know things have been a bit chaotic for you.”

You tucked your hair behind your ears and nodded, “You don’t have to make dinner for me. I would be happy with a cheese sandwich.”

She shook her head, “I won’t hear of that. I’ll bring it up to you. How’s that sound?”

“Good.” You kicked off your shoes and sank down on the side of your bed. It was a real bed. Matching sheets, a mattress topper, and nice metal headboard. 

It looked new, which really was a novelty. 

You waited until Mitch and Darla could be heard walking down the steps, before you sank back on the bed and finally relaxed. 

You didn’t know how long it would take you to really be relaxed. Being on edge had kept you alive this long. But it was a feat not to give into the urge to grab the chair that sat at the vanity and wedge it under the doorknob. 

You covered your face with your hands, letting out a heavy sigh as you let the reality of your new life settle in. 

Next week would mark a new beginning. A new school, a new chance to be someone. You weren’t beholden to anyone but yourself now. If you failed, it was your own fault. You weren’t trapped under the shadow of your mother. 

Though, the thought of having to wear a uniform until you graduated sounded like bullshit. 

You pushed yourself back upright, looking around the room for the folder you’d spotted sitting on the vanity. You climbed off the bed to retrieve the fold. It was white and yellow, with the school seal set in the center. Darla had clearly gone to great lengths filling everything out for you — the forms were mostly filled in, save for your name and signature where it was necessary. 

Apparently, you had just missed the father-daughter dance. 

You closed the folder and sat it back on the vanity, before you retreated back to the bed to collect the cardboard box. You didn’t have much to unpack. 

A framed picture of you and your father that had spent the better part of its existence hidden from your mother’s sight; the trophy you won freshman year for the science fair; three of your favorite books; and bedside alarm clock. 

Aside from that, you had only taken the clothes you wore most often, not even bothering to worry about other seasons. You had enough money to buy new clothes in the winter. 

And with uniforms for school — you didn’t have to worry about other classmates judging you for repeating outfits. 

School was just a means to an end. Get good grades, get a scholarship, and do something worthwhile. Something that would actually help someone. 

Your mother had screamed at you that you were worthless — that you would never amount to anything because you were ungrateful — more times than you cared to recall. You had to prove her wrong. One day, she’d see that her daughter had amounted to something. Not because of her, but in spite of her. 

 ——

 “How did you sleep last night?” Darla questioned as you joined her in the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Tate. 

“The bed was super comfortable,” You offered, preferring not to tell her that you hadn’t slept at all. Though there were bags under your eyes that told a different story.

You had slept for an hour — maybe two. You couldn’t relax, despite how hard you had tried. You had gone to sleep on a comfortable bed, with clean sheets, and a full stomach, but sleep just didn’t come to you. 

The only reason you slept at all was because you had gotten up and put the chair in front of the door. The house was quiet — there were no addicts down the hall getting high, no yelling, no chaos, but your mind told you there could be. 

Darla sat a glass of juice down in front of you, “Do you drink coffee?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, taking a sip of the juice. “Cream and sugar if you don’t mind.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t mind at all. I know you think you’re a burden to us, but I’m happy to have you here. Really.”

“I don’t want to be a charity case.” You told her, taking another sip of your juice as Mitch walked down the stairs and joined all of you in the kitchen. 

“Well, you’re not one. So don’t worry.”

“Hey, kid.” Mitch gave your shoulder a pat as he walked past the table. “Didn’t know if you’d come down.”

You shrugged, “The smell of coffee was too strong of a temptation.” 

“Do you have plans for the day?” He questioned as he poured himself a cup of coffee. 

Tate rolled one of his model cars across the table to you and you turned it around and rolled it back. 

“I thought I might check out a book shop we passed yesterday. What does a normal Monday look like for you?”

“I’ve got work,” Mitch explained before gesturing to Darla. “She’s got her committees.”

“Committees?”

“I’m on the board of the Philadelphia Museum of Art,” Darla offered. “And the Daughters of the American Revolution.”

“Don’t forget the Trocadero,” Mitch supplied, pressing a kiss to Darla’s cheek, before he circled back around to the table. “She’s very connected to the art scene here in the city. If you have any interest in the arts, I’m sure she can find you a job or an internship.”

“I don’t know what I want to do,” You admitted, playing with the end of your braid as you stared down at the glass of juice in front of you. “I never thought I’d get out of Johnstown.”

“Hopefully you can figure that out,” Darla said as she handed you your cup of coffee. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do,” She told you, “But I found a passion for art in high school.”

“Does it pay well?”

“Oh,” Darla exchanged a look with Mitch. “Technically I’m a volunteer.”

“Ah.” You frowned. Given the house you were eating breakfast in and what Mitch had said last night — Darla had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. “As nice as that sounds, I really need something somewhat lucrative.”

Mitch day down beside Tate, across from you, “You’ve got plenty of time to figure out what you want to be. Don’t grow up too fast.”

You smiled a little, “I’ll try not to.” You drummed your fingers against the side of your mug, “What do you do again, Mitch?”

“I’m a real estate broker.”

Your brows furrowed together, “I have no idea what that is.”

“I work for a real estate agency as a manager.” Mitch clarified, sipping at his coffee. “If you wanted to work in real estate, I could get you an internship.”

“I don’t know if I could sell houses,” You made a face. “I’m just going to focus on high school right now. Work on getting a scholarship.”

Tate rolled his car across the table again, “Do you like my car?”

You picked the car up and examined it, “I do. It’s very cool.” You rolled it back to him, glancing at Mitch. “I’m pretty self-sufficient. I'm sure I’ll figure out what my life’s calling is.”

“Philadelphia has so much going on. It’s very up-and-coming in areas.” Darla told you. “You could make a whole life for yourself here in the city.”

“Maybe.” You took a sip of coffee then. Now that you were free — there was a whole world of possibilities. You didn’t have to stay in Pennsylvania for the rest of your life. 

You could go anywhere, be anything, make a name for yourself. 

Mitch and his little family were great, but you didn’t feel any attachment to them. You didn’t feel any attachment to much of anything, frankly. Maybe you were broken. Maybe you’d been through so much shit with your mother, that you’d just shut down emotionally. 

You knew what love was; you even knew what home and family was supposed to feel like, but you weren’t sure you had it in you to feel those things. It was like falling asleep on your hand — you could feel touch, but it didn’t feel real. 

Maybe that’s what your mother felt. Maybe Rebecca was the way she was because there was a big black hole where her heart was supposed to be. 

But you weren’t going to let yourself become her. Maybe one day you could feel something. 

Wouldn’t that be something? 

[fics-for-my-heart]

Oops - Dylan O’Brian

Summary: Some clumsy moments lead to some admitted feelings

Word count: 3486

Warning: some slight panic about a stopped elevator

A/N: this is kinda rough. It’s been so long since I’ve done something longish that I’m a bit rusty. Also using the gif of Mitch bc this is how I was picturing Dylan. Hope you enjoy.

Masterlist

“No!” You shouted, boxes flying as a leash wrapped around your legs. “Spot.” The familiar pup was full body wiggle excited. There was no staying mad at the sandy blond lab when his brown eyes looked so sweet. “Where’s boss?” You asked with a scratch behind his ear. It was rare to see one without the other but sometimes Spot got away.

Footsteps pounded up the sidewalk behind you. “Spot, you crazy dog. Oh, hi Y/N.” You looked up to see the one and only Dylan O’Brian. He was leaning onto his knees looking relieved. “He saw you from across the lot and almost pulled my arm off.” His laugh was sweet, and his entire face lit up when he smiled.

It’s been over a year since you started working on the set of Teen Wolf, and you still weren’t quite able to speak around all the stars. But it was always worse around Dylan. It seemed like something embarrassing always happened around him.

“Jeff asked me to walk him while Holland and Tyler are finishing up for the day. Here.” He turned, gathering up the boxes. “Are these the new costumes for part two?”

“Uh, yeah.” Your face was so hot it’s a wonder your sunglasses weren’t melted. “Julie had me pick them up. That’s where I was heading.”

He stacked the last box and grabbed the leash. “Tell ya what. You take Race here and I’ll carry the boxes?”

“Um, thanks.

—

Being on set while the cast was filming was always a thrill. Seeing them all get into character and having the script brought to life was the reason you wanted to get into production. Of the few shows and movies you’d worked on, Teen Wolf was your favorite. Everyone from cast to crew was amazing to work with, and Jeff let the cast have a bit of free will when it came to filming.

They were almost wrapped, Jeff giving you the ten minute warning and you jetted off to insure that catering was ready for the lunch rush.

“Sue!” You called, entering the tent that smelled like potatoes and chicken. Everything in the dining area looked ready, and you followed the smell of the food to find Sue. “Need any help?”

“Oh, love, yes please. Could you turn the warming burners on?” She asked as she dumped a large pot of mashed potatoes into the serving tray.

“Will do!” You slipped back out the door, ducking around the other catering crew.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of talking made its way into the tent, followed by the first group of crew. After making yourself a plate, you made your way to the table where your things were to eat and fill out your calendar for the upcoming months.

The volume grew as more and more crew filed in. The chairs around your table moved and plates clattered. A glance up revealed Dylan, Tyler, Holland, and Shelley.

“Y/N, you missed it.” Tyler says through a laugh. “Dylan tripped and sent water all over Jeff. Oof.” He grabbed his side, laughing even harder.

Holland smiled over her cup and winked. “He was distraaaaacted.”

You shifted your eyes to Dylan, watching as a blush creeped up his neck. “No I wasn’t. I was just excited to eat. Sue makes the best chicken.” He glanced at you before shoveling food in his mouth. “So, Y/N, how are you?” He mutters around the food.

Words failed you, as always when Dylan spoke directly to you. “I’m, uh, I’m alright. Kinda ready for a nap or some coffee.” You shrugged, turning back to your computer.

“We’re going for some after lunch, you should join us!” Shelley invited, nodding towards the others.

“Thanks for the invite but I’ve got about four months of planning before I can leave today.” The alarm on your phone sounded. “Speaking of, my lunch break is over. Uh, if you guys need anything I’ll be in the office the rest of the day.” You stood grabbing your plate. Dylan stood at the same time, sending your plate tipping over and spilling what little was left all over you.

“Oh my god. Y/N I’m so sorry.” He reached for napkins. Shoving them into your hand as he bent for your plate. “I was going to get a refill. I’m so sorry.” His face was the color of a beet and his eyes were wide.

Your face mirrored his as you dabbed at your shirt. “It’s okay. No biggie. I’ve got a change of clothes in my bag.”

He stood, keeping his eyes on you. “I’ll take your plate and clean this up. I’m sorry, again.”

“Thanks. And it’s fine. Accidents happen.” You grabbed your things and looked at everyone else, who hadn’t made a sound the entire time. Their eyes were bouncing between the two of you. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Let me know if you need anything!” Holland said as Tyler and Shelley both waved.

You gave a nod, then quickly and carefully made your way to the office. Thankfully you didn’t run into anyone, and we’re able to grab your bag and run to the locker room down the hall for a shower. Where, of course, you had the last twenty minutes on replay.

“Why am I always so awkward around him.” You thought to yourself. “He’s no different than the others who I can talk to just fine. Sure he’s much more attractive. But still come on, pull it together.”

When you returned to the office, there was a coffee on your desk with a note. “Sorry again, Y/N. I hope you don’t hate me. -D”

——

“Y/N, can you take some notes at the meeting please?” Jeff asked from across the room. It wasn’t an unusual request, and one you normally did without being asked.

“Of course. What’s the main topic?” You grabbed a new pen and your notebook, dating the corner.

Jeff stood, glancing at his watch. “Just some last minute changes for a few things. Come on or we’ll be late.”

He waited for you to gather your things and followed you out the door, turning the light off and shutting the door to the office. The conference room was just down the hall so you went on to get your normal spot in the corner.

Soon the room was full. For meetings like this the heads of departments and the cast were needed in attendance. Seeing as these changes affected everyone it was easier to pass the information on to them and let them inform their crew.

“Alright guys, is everyone here?” Jeff glanced around the room. You did as well, marking your mental checklist.

Hair and makeup, lighting, sound, visual, catering, Tyler, Sprayberry, Holland, Shelley, JR, Ian, Dylan.

Dylan who was currently watching you from his spot beside Tyler Hoechlin. You gave him a small smile, which he returned with his full tooth grin and a wave. Even as you continue your headcount, you could feel his eyes on you.

Jeff started the meeting, and you started scribbling notes. Any suggestion given for a new location or for a tweak in script, you put in the notebook. Your pen was either furiously trying to keep up with everything or slipped between your teeth.

It was a habit. One you'd tried to break many times. But any writing tool always found its way to your mouth. Which was why the sudden bursting feeling between your teeth and the inky taste had you scrambling up and out the door before anyone could see.

By the time you made it to the bathroom, trying not to leave an ink trail, your hand was covered in black ink drool.

“Uck. Uckkkkk!” You cursed as best you could, grabbing paper towels and turning the water on as more ink dribbled from your mouth.

Frantically you spit, bringing water to your mouth and spitting again and again. You hadn’t swallowed any, but the taste was awful as you wiped your tongue with a wet paper towel.

The bathroom door slowly opened but you didn’t look up, embarrassed enough, there was no way you were going to talk to anyone looking like season two Gerard.

But, just when you thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, the person spoke and your entire body froze.

“Y/N. Are you okay?” Dylan asked, slowly slipping inside.

You squeaked when his hand touched your shoulder, your head falling more into the sink. “Uh Huh.”

Dylan’s head ducked beside yours, his hand still on your shoulder as embarrassment made your entire body start shaking. “Hey, look at me, please.” His voice was soft, and the finger that touched your chin was even softer. “It’s okay. No one else saw what happened.”

Slowly, you let his finger turn your face to him. Your eyes were burning with tears as you fully faced him now. His brows were pinched together in concern as his eyes swept your face, landing on your mouth. “It’s not that bad.” His thumb gently stroked your chin, sending a shiver down your body. He patted the counter. “Hop up and I’ll help.”

“It’s okay.” You broke yourself from the trance you were in, moving away quickly to grab more paper towels.

Dylan’s hand grabbed your waist, another squeaky slipped past your lips. “Let me help. Please. Y/N, I still feel awful about last week and I just want to help.”

Giving in, you turned around and pushed yourself up on the counter. He looked almost relieved as he started where you left off. Taking a tentative step between your legs.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to chew on pens? Go like this.” He lifted his lips revealing clenched teeth. “Looks like you got most of it off your teeth.”

“My mother warned me all the time.” You finally replied as he pushed the cool towel against your chin, moving in a swiping motion. His eyes jumped to yours before returning to the task. “Normally I try not to chew on new pens like that.”

“My habit is biting my nails. Not as messy, but still not good.” His light laugh released some of the tension in your shoulders. “We might have to go to the makeup trailer to get this off.” His eyes met yours again, your breath catching in your throat at just how close the two of you were.

“Okay.” Your voice was a whisper as neither of you made the move to actually leave. His hands were at your side, and chestnut eyes were level with yours. There was a slight shift in the room.

You found yourself drawn closer to him. One of his hands lifted up, gently touching your chin once more. Your heart was beating so fast as your eyes glanced down at his lips, watching as his tongue slowly traced them. His hand moved almost as slow, tracing your jaw and making its way around your ear. Time even seemed to slow as you let your eyes trace his features. Enjoying this moment of clarity that maybe you might have deeper feeling for the boy who made you clumsy.

“Y/N.” His voice was a whisper, his fingers finally finding their way into your hair. With shaky hands, you touched his chest, but not to push away, more for an anchor.

Suddenly the door was thrown open and you and Dylan scrambled apart. Your face instantly heated as you stared wide eyed as Holland.

“Y/N! There you are! Are you o..” her words died off as she quickly looked at your ink stained lips and Dylan pretending to wash his hands. “Uh.” Her lips pursed and curved slightly, a very Lydia look on her face. “Sorry for interrupting. I’ll just,” she threw both thumbs over her shoulder. “Y/N. You’re still coming over tonight right?” Her eyebrows jumped, taking full advantage of Dylan’s back turned to her.

“Y-yeah” you cleared your throat and nodded. “Yeah I’ll be there.”

Then she was gone. And the once electrified energy was now thick with awkwardness. The moment was definitely over.

Dylan turned to look at you while drying his hands. It was silent as he tossed the paper towel in the trash and extended his hand. The tips of his ears were pink. “I’ll take you to makeup.”

——-

It has been a few weeks since you and Dylan had your moment in the bathroom. Production was winding down for the season. Meetings were more frequent in planning for next season's start date in four months. Conventions and interviews were being planned. Things were moving fast, but Dylan somehow managed to steal a few minutes of your time for one thing or another.

“Y/N!” His voice called from across the lot, his steps echoed between the trailers. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you. This is for you.” He handed you one of the coffee cups in his hand. “Also, when do we have the IMDb event?”

You took the cup with greedy hands, then tapped the calendar app. “Thank you. And it’s this afternoon at four. We’re leaving in twenty minutes so you all have the chance to mingle and such.”

“Awesome.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “So, where ya headed?”

“Just going to grab some stuff from the office before we leave.” All the little moments had made it easier to talk to him, which was nice.

He nodded. “Well I’ll let you get to it. I’ll see you when we leave.” He smiled and stepped backwards hitting the trailer behind him. “Ooof.” He recovered quickly. “Bye!”

The event was happening at the rooftop terrace of a local hotel. There was a bar and finger foods. Lots of different areas set up for interviews and places to just hang out. It had been about an hour since you’d arrived and the interviews didn’t start for a while, so it gave everyone a chance to catch up.

“Y/N.” Jeff said as he came to a stop beside you. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. You okay?”

You patted your pockets. “I must have left my phone in the car. I’ll go grab it.”

Jeff passed the keys to you. “Okay, take someone with you. I don’t want you going down alone.” He looked around then pointed at the couch. “Take Dylan or Tyler.” As if he heard his name Dylan looked over and waved.

“Hey there.” He grinned as you approached. “This is Kaya. Kaya this is Y/N.” He patted the seat beside him. “Join us?”

“Hi, Kaya. Uh actually I was wondering if you’d go with me to get my phone from the car. Jeff doesn’t want me to go alone.”

He shot up, setting his drink on the table. “Sure, yeah.” He said a quick bye to everyone and followed you to the elevator.

“Thanks. I can’t believe I left it in the car. It’s normally attached to my hip.”

He pressed the button on the elevator for the garage. “It’s no problem. Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet new people and see some that I worked with before. How’s it catching up?”

He leaned into the corner. “It’s nice. We’ve all been busy so it’s been difficult to catch up.”

The ride down to the garage was quick, the trip to the car quicker. Dylan stayed close, shoulder bumping and joking the entire way back.

“So, do you have any plans tonight?” He asked, once again pressing the button to go back up to the roof.

“Actually no, I think I’ll just get some taken out and watch mov..” your words were cut off by the grinding sound of gears, and the shudder of the elevator cart. You grabbed on to Dylan, as the lights flicked out and the cart came to a jerky stop. “Oh my god. Oh no.”

Your heart was in your throat as tears stung your eyes. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

Dylan’s arm went around your shoulder, pulling you close. “Hey, it’s okay. Shhh. I’ve got you.” He reached over and pushed the buttons but nothing happened. Not even the emergency button worked.

Your entire body was shaking as you clung to Dylan’s shirt. “This is my worst fear. This can’t be happening.” Your breath was short as your mind raced with different scenarios of how this could end bad.

“Y/N.” His voice was calm as his hand rubbed up and down your back. Slowly he pulled you back, hands on your cheeks he met your eyes. “Take a deep breath for me okay.” He breathed in his nose and slowly out his mouth as you followed. “There we go. It will be okay. I’ll send out a group text and get help.”

You continued taking deep breaths as he typed out an sos text. Sinking to the floor, the cool metal helped relax you a little.

“Okay, I sent one to everyone I know is up there. Are you okay?” He joined you on the floor, pushing up against your side.

You nodded. “Yeah. I think so. Sorry. I've had nightmares about getting stuck like this.”

“It’s okay. I don’t like escalators.” His phone buzzes and you glanced at the message. “Holland said ‘of course that would happen to you two’. And Tyler said they contacted maintenance and they should be able to help us soon.”

You let out a breath. “Thank goodness.” Slowly, you laid your head on his shoulder. After a few moments of silence as he responded to the influx of texts, you decided to bring up something you’d been thinking about for a while.

“Dylan, can I ask you something?”

His head turned toward you as he put his phone down. “Anything.”

You closed your eyes, glad not to be looking at his face or you’d chicken out. Your hands wiped down your thighs and your voice was just above a whisper. “Were you going to kiss me that day in the bathroom?”

“Yes.” He answered. No hesitation. No having to think about it.

“Wh-why?”

He turned as best he could, gently placing his hand on yours. “Because I wanted to. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now.”

“But why me? I’m always a mess around you. And for the longest time I couldn’t even form sentences.” You lifted your head, finally looking at his face.

“And I’m always a mess around you. I’ll forget my lines. Or drop something because I’m distracted by how beautiful you are. The day I spilt water on Jeff? That was because I was trying to find you and didn’t see him. There have been so many times where I have walked into something of someone when I see you. And for a while there I couldn’t speak around you either.”

“Really?”

He smiled. “Yeah, why do you think everyone always gives me a hard time. They all know I have a crush on you.”

Your face headed. Dylan O’Brian likes you. “I like you too. This has to be a dream.” You whispered.

“Nope. Not a dream. I like you, Y/N. I have for a while. And now it’s my turn to ask you a question.” You raised your eyebrows. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

His hand cupped your chin as he met you halfway. His lips were soft, and the slight five o’clock shadow tickled your cheeks. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Lips moving in sync with his as if they were made for each other. He pulled back for a moment, smiled at you, then pressed his lips harder against you.

The two of you were so wrapped up in one another you didn’t hear the door opening.

“Ha! You both owe me twenty bucks!” Holland's voice shocked you apart. But Dylan’s arm stayed firmly around you. Holland has her hand out as Tyler and Spreyberry handed off twenty dollar bills.

“Uh. Hi guys.” Dylan said as he came to his senses. He stood, holding his hand out to help you up, but he didn’t drop it once you were on your feet. “What’s up?”

Tyler turned and looked at you both, then at your joined hands. “Holland bet us the two of you would finally admit your feelings while trapped.”

“I love you both. And I’m glad you finally saw the light. Also thanks for earning me forty dollars.” Holland blew a kiss before walking away.

“Thanks for getting us out.” You told the boys and nodded to the maintenance men currently tinkering with the elevator. “Thank you.”

“So.” Dylan said, swinging your hands between you. “Got room for one more in your takeout and movie plans?”

You smiled, pushing on your tiptoes to kiss him. “As a matter of fact I do.”

[willykappymarnsmatts]

I Was Made For Loving You (M. Marner)

*Y/N’s POV*

My brother, Tyson, had been traded to the Leafs over the summer. We were always really close, and he begged me to transfer to a school in Toronto so we could still hang out. At first I refused, because I had grown super close to the boys in Denver, but after constant begging I eventually gave in. I hung around at home for the summer, but a week before the season started, Tyson flew me out for good.

When I land in Toronto, I have butterflies in my stomach. I’m excited for a new start, a new University, but I don’t know anyone in the city but Tyson. It’s… a lot.

“Y/N!” I hear someone call from behind me. I whip around, seconds before Tyson picks me up and spins me around. “Hi!” He yells.

“Hey, Tys,” I laugh. It’s literally been two months, but he’s acting like it’s been two years.

“So, um, I know it’s kind of late notice, but we have a banquet tonight. Did you bring a dress?”

“No, mom’s bringing all my nice clothes when she comes for Thanksgiving,” I frown. “You could’ve told me before I left!”

“Yeah, sorry about that, but we have to go shopping. Like, now.” I roll my eyes, following him to his car.

“I’m tired, Tys,” I whine. He shakes his head and takes my bags from me as we walk.

“Too bad. I’ve already told the boys about you, and they’re all excited to meet you, so you have to come with me.” His face turns a light shade of red as his voice begins to raise.

I laugh. “Okay, okay, no need to get so worked up.”

He smiles at me wide. “I missed you,” he tells me, opening the car door for me.

“Oh, a true gentleman,” I chirp.

“Shut up,” he jokes, shutting the door once I’m in.

•••

After Tyson dragged me around the mall for two hours looking for a dress, he was finally happy with one I tried on. I kept telling them every single one I tried was great, but he didn’t agree. It had to be ‘perfect,’ he insisted. I pushed for a simple, form-fitting knee-length black dress, but Tys wasn’t having it.

I come out of the dressing room in a dress that ends just below mid-thigh. It’s a deep blue, with a v-shape neck line which cuts down to the middle of my chest. It clings to my curves, complimenting my shape. Tyson looks up from his phone when I come out of the dressing room, and his jaw drops. I smile slightly, then spin in front of him. I look in the mirror at myself. I smile at my reflection, smoothing down the dress. “You don’t think it’s a little short?” I ask, tugging down the bottom of the dress.

“No, I, uh, it’s… I’m gonna have to fight my boys off of you tonight.” He scratches at the back of his neck. I smile wide at him.

“You don’t think I can handle myself, big brother?”

“No, I do, but I don’t think my friends can handle themselves.” He jokes. “We’re gonna have fun tonight.”

•••

“Y/N!” Tyson yells from the kitchen of his apartment. He’s been waiting for me for 20 minutes and is the most impatient person on the planet.

“Tyson, I’m almost ready, shut up!” I yell back, bending my head to put in a pair of gold hoop earrings. I curled my hair so it bounces when I walk, and I put on bright red lipstick. I don’t have to curl my eyelashes, but I did eyeliner and mascara. I don’t know what inside me told me I needed to go all out, but I listened nonetheless.

I walk out, click-clacking on the wood floor with black heels. I gather my hair behind my shoulders as I grab my shoulder bag from the couch.

“Wow, you look great, Y/N!” Tyson grins. I smile back at him.

“I feel pretty,” I say like a little girl. He laughs and wraps me in a hug.

“I talked to some of the guys and told them you’re coming. They’re all really excited to meet you,” he mentions, locking the door as we leave.

I nod, pursing my lips to hide a smile. I haven’t been in a relationship since I was a young teenager, and I’m almost twenty now. I’m looking forward to getting out there without Tyson babying me. When he got drafted, the boys on the team were much older than me. There was no chance in the world that they would’ve been of any interest to me, but they became like a bunch of older brothers. Now, though, it’s different.

We walk in silence to the car, the sound of my shoes echoing off the walls.

“How’s Toronto been?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Good,” he nods. “I like it a lot, actually.”

I smile. “The guys all miss you a lot.”

He watches his shoes as he walks. “I miss them too, I really do. But to be honest, these guys on the Leafs are the tightest group I’ve ever seen. In Denver, we were tight, but the entirety of us weren’t best friends. Here, the team is a family. They all love each other, and they welcomed me into the group with open arms. You’ll see tonight, what I’m talking about.”

We get to the car and he opens the door for me and holds it while I slide in. “Seriously, how are you still single?” I chirp.

He mocks me while making a face and closes the door as I get in, making me throw my head back and laugh. He smiles as he gets in on the driver side.

“I really did miss you, you know?”

“I missed you too, big brother.”

•••

Of course, we’re fashionably late to the banquet because Tyson is the slowest driver on planet earth. When I told him this, he obviously blamed me.

“It’s not my fault you took five hours to get ready.” He tells me as we jog into the hall. I shake my head and laugh slightly. When Tyson pushes open the doors into the hall, loud music hits us like a truck. I’m taken aback at the beautiful set-up. The walls have blue drapery almost the same colour as my dress. There are round tables with white table clothes all around the room, with a DJ booth and a dance floor in the middle. People are strewn about, some on the dance floor and some hanging out at their seats.

“I’m going to go find Kyle, let him know we’re alive,” Tyson tells me, patting my shoulder as he walks away. I’m left alone at the entrance and I make my way into the party.

•••

*Mitch’s POV*

When I saw her walk in, my breath caught in my throat. She was probably the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, but as I got up the courage to go and talk to her, Tyson came by and blocked my view. I try to peek over his shoulder and watch her, but he’s too wide.

“Hey, Mitchy!” Tyson says, hugging me and patting my back. “How ya doing?”

“Good, I’m… good,” I say distractedly, still trying to find the girl I saw just a moment ago. I give up for the moment and focus my attention back on Tyson. “How are you, bud?”

“Good. My sister flew in today, she’s around here somewhere. Let me know if you have a chance to meet her. She’s-“

“Uh, Tys,” I interrupt. I see a head of curly brown hair walking away from us and immediately try to come up with an excuse to get away. “I think I see a guy I knew from juniors. Do you mind if I go for a sec?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Tyson nods, obviously confused as to why I’m not acting myself. I can explain later.

“Thanks, man.” I say, shrugging past him and towards the girl in the blue dress.

I’m nearing the girl, turning and shouldering past some people I know and some people I don’t. I smile and nod as I pass, and take a deep breath as I near the girl.

“Mitchhh,” Auston appears in front of me when I’m two steps away from the mystery girl. “I’m… drunk.” He states, almost proudly.

“Matts, we got here an hour ago. How the fuck are you already drunk?” I ask, the girl momentarily forgotten.

“Well, there was this girl, right, and I wanted to buy her a drink, but she left, so I just drank it. Then I had two more drinks. And then another one.” He slurs all his words together and if I hadn’t seen him in this state eleven million times before, I would have no idea what he’s saying to me. But I have, and I understand him clearly.

“Okay, Aus. Uh, go sit in your seat, you are in no shape to dance. And I am cutting you off. Water only.”

“But Mitchhhhh,” he drawls.

“No. I’m the one that has to deal with a big hungover baby tomorrow morning. No more drinks.”

“Fffffine.” He slurs, wobbling to his table. I take a breath and scan the room once more. I see the girl and start to make my way over to her, but I get interrupted again.

“Mitchy, have ya-“

His head of blonde hair pops up in front of me out of nowhere, and I step back slightly in shock. “Willy, I’m kinda busy right now, okay? Sorry, bud.” I shove past Will and he just nods as I pass him. She’s two steps away from me now.

One step away.

I tap on her shoulder.

•••

*Y/N’s POV*

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn around, expecting to meet Tyson. Instead, it’s a boy I do not recognize. He’s taller, almost a head taller than I am. He has short brown hair that is swept lazily to one side. He has bright blue eyes that shine as he grins wide at me. He’s wearing a magenta jacket and a clean off-white dress shirt. He’s beautiful, to put it frankly.

“Hi,” he says. I can barely hear him over the music, but if I watch his mouth, I can make out the words. “My name is Mitch, I play for the Leafs. I haven’t seen you before, what’s your name?”

I smile at him. “I’m Y/N. Ya know Tyson?”

“Fuck me,” he sighs. “Your boyfriend?”

I throw my head back and laugh. My hair falls behind my shoulders and when I look at Mitch, he’s smiling again. “No, definitely not my boyfriend. He’s my brother.”

“Ohhh. Well, shit.”

I laugh again. “Why shit?”

He looks up at me, almost like he forgot I was there. “Well, Y/F/N Barrie, I think you’re really beautiful, and I wanted to ask you to dance, but if Tyson sees me dancing with you he’ll probably murder me.”

I smile and feel my cheeks redden. “Tyson has no say over who I get to dance with,” I say firmly. “If you wanna dance, just ask.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, staring at me in amazement. I begin to turn around, but he catches my wrist and spins me back to him. “Will you dance with me, Y/N?”

I nod, trying to hide my grin. I place my bag on my seat and take his outstretched hand in mine. “I’d love to.”

He drags me out to the middle of the dance floor, just as Thinking Out Loud starts playing. I wasn’t expecting a slow song, and I falter mid-step. “Oh, um, if you don’t want to-“

“I do. I do want to.” He tugs my arm once more to keep me moving. We find an empty space among the swaying couples. I stare at him, and he stares back. Neither of us moves for a moment, then he places his hands on either side of my waist, inching them to the small of my back. I bring my hands up to the back of his neck and interlock them behind his head. I smile at him, and he grins back.

We become more comfortable in each others’ space. As we continue to dance, and the songs change, we stay in each other’s arms, asking questions, slowly getting to know each other. He pulls me closer to him, and I rest my head on his shoulder. “My heart is fucking racing,” he mutters, and my body shakes with silent laughter. I pull back to look at him, and the look on his face tells me I wasn’t supposed to hear that.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, our faces so close my nose is brushing his, “I’m falling pretty fast, too.”

We continue to sway, our bodies pressed against each other. I press my forehead against Mitch’s and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Y/N, nobody’s made me lose my mind like this, ever.” I smile and pull my head away from his so we can continue to sway.

As the next song ends, Mitch and I are left in a haze where only we exist. “I’m thirsty,” I tell him.

“I need a drink, too.” He takes my hand and leads me to the bar…

Where Tyson is standing, watching us.

“Fuck,” Mitch abruptly stops.

I turn my body to face him, my back to Tyson. I can feel his eyes on me. “Do you have ulterior motives, Marner?” I ask him, only half-kidding. He shakes his head furiously.

“It’s kind of terrifying, really terrifying, actually, but I think I might be in love with you.”

I smile and squeeze his hand, my face reddening. “Then why are you so scared of my brother?” I don't wait for a response, but pull Mitch behind me up to the bar.

“I see you met Mitch,” Tyson states, his voice nearly growling. It’s a side of him I almost never see, and it’s so different from his higher, happy voice.

“Yes I did, actually, and I think I’m possibly falling for him. Not that it’s actually any of your business, but we’ve talked a lot and I like him, so…” my voice trails off.

Tyson studies the two of us, mostly staring at our intertwined fingers. “You guys just met.” He frowns.

“We’re not getting married, Tys. Chill out, and back off a little, okay?”

He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear and forces a tight grin. “Fine.”

He faces Mitch. “If you hurt her, or cross any lines, you’re dead. And I don’t care if you’re my teammate.”

Mitch nods, his hand literally shaking in mine. I smile wide. As Tyson leaves, we sit on stools at the bar, waiting for the bartender. I kiss him lightly on the cheek. I start to say something else, but I lose my train of thought when he gently takes my chin and turns me towards him.

He leans into me and kisses me, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt. The world disappears, and I melt into the kiss, into Mitch. He pulls away, and my eyelids refuse to open all the way. “Okay?” He whisper. I nod, dizzy and flustered and…

In love.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

with you [chapter 5]

Summary: Clementine pops the question, Louis has nightmares, Violet can’t let go of the past, Mitch doesn’t know how to handle gross feelings, Ruby’s a goddamn sweetheart, Willy doesn’t ever remember to knock, Aasim can’t dance, and James is here, too.

Nothing like a wedding to bring this family together.

Note: I’m home from my grandmothers. My uncle came back a little early and now I finally get to sleep in my own bed and have internet. It’s been an exhausting two weeks but at least some good came of it. I finished rewriting/editing three chapters of [with you] which is progress. Working on this is what kept my sanity in check tbh haha. I still need some time to unpack and recover before being fully back on here, so I hope you enjoy this chapter! 

Also, I’ve updated [with you] on Fanfiction.net and Wattpad, as well. I’ve pretty much given up on them but then I thought that I do have readers on those platforms who have messaged me about [with you] so I might as well update them, too. So yeah. Thanks for reading and for your support for this story. :D

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5

Read on: AO3 | FF.net | Wattpad

---

Clementine yanks the basement doors open, only to gag when a nauseating scent of vinegar knocks her in the face. 

“What the hell?” she coughs.

“C’mon!” Willy grabs her arm and hurries down the stairs, dragging her with him. “Mitch! Clem’s here!”

Something heavy and metallic drops hard to the cement. “Shit!” Mitch curses. “Told you not to do that, Willy!”

“Sorry!”

She follows the young boy deeper into the basement and finds herself amazed at Mitch’s set up. The work desk is completely covered with drills, hammers, saws, files, batteries, a few of their solar panels, and other machines she didn’t recognize. Flashlights are wired in the air pointing directly at the anvil Mitch sits in front of. There’s a chipped bowl filled with a clear liquid sitting on top.

“Finally,” Mitch says when he sees her. Clementine’s startled by his more than usual unkempt appearance- hair standing in every direction, dirtiness staining his hands, shirt and face, and the weariness lining his eyes. 

“Uh, are you okay?” she asks him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves dismissively, standing from his stool, yawning heavily as he tosses a dirty rag away. 

Willy rushes to help him scoot the various tools aside so Mitch can reach something closest to the wall. It’s a small, brown box.

Clementine approaches the two boys, trying to hide her eagerness as she asks, “Well? Were you able to fix it?”

Mitch scratches at the back of his neck and turns away. “Not exactly,” he says, “It sorta got ruined when I messed around with it.”

Her heart drops. 

“Ruined how?”

“I may have broke it.”

“Broke it!?”

Mitch whips around, holding up a hand. “Now, don’t cry about it,” he says quickly, “it was a shitty ring, anyway. Louis would’ve broken it himself if you gave it to him… maybe.” He grabs a small wrench from the table and swings it around on his finger nervously. 

“Mitch,” she can’t help that her voice came out so miserably angry. “If you couldn’t fix it then you should’ve left it alone! What am I supposed to do now?”

“Woah, hey, don’t freak out! Just listen for two seconds,” he says. “I didn’t mean to break it. We started messing around with some stuff to try and reshape it but then it snapped and James came wandering down here and the whole thing was a shitshow. There was no saving that thing. Kind of a piece of shit. So,” he looks away as he shoves the brown box towards her, “We did you one better.”

Willy’s practically vibrating with excitement next to them as he motions eagerly to the box. “Open it! Open it!”

Clementine takes the box and pulls the lid off. It takes her a moment to process what she’s seeing. 

There’s a clean piece of fabric bunched up at the bottom, and within the folds rests two matching silver bands. Her head snaps up and her jaw drops. 

His exhausted, shit-eating grin is enough of a confirmation that what she’s seeing is real. 

“Oh my god!” she gasps. “Where did you get these?”

“Made ‘em.”

“What? You-” she blinks up at him in disbelief, “-you made these?”

“Super awesome, huh?” Willy laughs. “I told’ja we had it under control!”

“The smell’ll wear off, too,” Mitch says, “had to polish ‘em with vinegar.” 

Clementine carefully lifts the bigger of the two rings out of the box. “How- How did you-?”

“Quarters,” Mitch smirks. “Willy here keeps a pretty impressive coin collection. Took a while to find the right ones, but we got it.”

“Yeah, we made a shit ton of them!” Willy reaches into his pocket and pulls out various different rings, most of them scratched up or disfigured in some way. 

“It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” Mitch shrugs. “Willy found this old book about sailors overseas making rings for their girlfriends back home. Just gotta hammer them then drill out the middle, do some filing and hammer some more. Once me and James knew what we were doing, we used the measurement I took of your finger and made yours. That one turned out great, so we made Louis’ to complete the set… and it only took us an entire day to do and there were, eh… complications , but they’re done.”

 Clementine runs her finger over the smooth surface, “This is-” she stops when she notices something engraved on it. She blinks, but it’s still there scratched into the shiny surface.

C + L

“That part was Mitch’s idea,” Willy points at the tiny letters, “had to use a really sharp nail to get it that clear.”

“We’ve all seen the piano,” Mitch quickly explains, rolling his eyes, “figured it’d be a good finishing touch. No big deal.”

She puts the box on the workbench. Without any warning, she throws herself at Mitch, wrapping her arms around his now tense body.

“Woah, hey, um-!” Mitch panics and sticks his arms out to avoid touching her.

“You guys have no idea what this means to me.”

“Uh-!”

He turns to Willy, bewildered. The young boy begins to laugh as he points at Mitch’s panicked face. Clementine reaches out and yanks Willy forward, pulling him into the hug as well. Even then, he’s still giggling like an amused child. 

Then, like the realization that they’re all hugging finally hits him over the head, Mitch jerks back, nearly tripping over his feet when turning back towards the work desk. He clears his throat.

“Said it’s not a big fucking deal, and it’s not like we did all the work, y’know. James helped, too, so just-” he grumbles, fumbling with the wrench, “-... consider it an early wedding present, or whatever.” 

Clementine can’t help but laugh at how weirdly cute it is that he’s embarrassed. She picks up the rings again to pull out the smaller one. It fits perfectly on her finger.

“I don’t know if I could ever thank you guys enough for doing this,” she beams, making a note to thank James in the morning. God, the ring fits so perfectly she can’t believe it. 

“Yeah, well, y’know,” Mitch nervously scratches his cheek, a rare smile betraying his lips, “whatever.”

”Mitch! Ya still down here!?” Ruby’s voice echoes from the top of the stairs. “Lou’s in the music room! Did’ja find the box of spare candles? We’re gonna need a lot to fill the whole place up!”

“Oh, shit-” Mitch hisses.

“No one’s down here!” Willy jumps into action, dashing towards the stairs and stretching his arms out. “ Do not enter !” 

“Gah, Willy, move it!”

Clementine closes the small box and shoves it into her pocket before turning to face Ruby as she pushes Willy to the side. Ruby sets her lantern on the workbench, lighting up the basement enough for Clementine to make out the thrill brightening her eyes. 

“Clementine!” she gasps. 

It’s Clementine’s turn to receive a surprise hug when Ruby practically tackles her. 

“Oh, Clem, I heard the news! Why didn’t ya tell me!? This is so excitin’! Ahh! I can’t believe ya didn’t tell me!”  Ruby pulls back to ask the boys, “Did’ja give ‘em to her yet?”

Clementine slowly turns to glare at the two boys.

Willy lowers his head in shame and Mitch fake coughs into his fist. Neither of them answers the question, nor do they dare look Clementine in the eye.

“ Mitch -”

“Before you flip the fuck out,” Mitch holds a finger up to stop her, ”she’s the one who came in here demanding to know what we were doing! She tried to wack me with one of Omar’s wooden spoons! I had to tell her!”

“Oh, no I didn’t! I said I would wack ya with one if ya didn’t explain yerself!” argues Ruby. “I thought ya were makin’ another bomb!”

“I haven’t messed with that shit for, like, weeks!”

Clementine can already see where this is going to go, and the best thing to do is stop it in its tracks.

“Okay, stop!” She raises her voice above theirs. The basement’s quiet again. She takes a deep breath. “I’m not mad.”

“You sound mad,” says Willy.

“I’m not. Ruby, you were going to find out about it anyway, though I can’t say I expected it to go down like this. Does anyone else know?”

“No,” says Ruby and Mitch. 

“Uhm, well…” Willy nervously laughs.

“Dude,” Mitch frowns down at the young boy.

“I didn’t mean to! Aasim saw me going through my coin collection earlier! Then he started asking all these questions and it just came out! But, I made him swear on his soul he wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“What?” Ruby asks. “When was this?”

“This morning.”

“And he didn’t say anything to me!”

“Yeah, because Willy asked him not to,” Mitch says. “Keep up.”

Clementine feels the beginnings of a headache coming on. 

She trusts Aasim. He's never let her down in the past, and he wouldn’t say anything to Louis, especially if he knows this is a surprise. 

“Anyone else?” Clementine asks.

Willy shakes his head.

So, of the people in their group, AJ, James, Mitch, Willy, Ruby, and Aasim all know.

That just leaves Omar, Tenn, and… 

And Violet.

She’s about to speak, but Ruby grabs her hand to admire the ring. “Wow, it’s even prettier on,” she gleams. “Gotta say, boys, ya did a real good job.”

Mitch rolls his eyes.

“Well, yeah .” 

“How’re ya gonna ask him? James and I were thinkin’ that you do it in the music room, of course, and we’ll help ya decorate it with candles and lanterns, make it real romantic.”

“Gross,” Mitch murmurs.

“Hush,” Ruby warns him. “Or, on the roof, under the pretty stars! Or, we can even decorate yer dorm! Whattya think? Omar can cook ya something special and, oh! I found some real pretty classical records fer ya to play! Ya gotta set the mood, after all.”

“We can make some cool fireworks, too!” Willy exclaims.

“Oh, no you won’t! No bombs, no fireworks!”

“Just a few sparklers? To set the mood?”

“No! Especially if it’s inside! Which I think would be best since ya never know with the damn weather.”

“Wow, Ruby,” Clementine’s astonished at the girl’s excitement. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“‘Course! I know I may be buttin’ in a little-” Mitch scoffs “-but I never thought I’d get to witness somethin’ like this after all that’s happened! I mean, a wedding ! It’s like somethin’ outta the fairytales! And, listen, ya don’t hafta take my suggestions. You can ask him any way ya want! Just know that we’re all here to help! Oh, and the wedding !”

“Oh, God,” Mitch groans.

“We’re definitely plannin’ a wedding!”

“Geez, who’s really getting married here?” Mitch asks, irritated. “You or Clem?”

“Oh, shut it! Why can’t ya just be excited?”

“Excited about what? Does nothing for me.”

“Y’know, thinkin’ about someone else fer a change wouldn't kill ya!”

“Okay, please stop arguing,” Clementine interrupts them. “At least let me get through the actual proposal before we start doing anything else.”

“Shit,” Ruby curses herself, “sorry, Clem. Guess I got a little excited.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Willy asks eagerly. “When are we going this?”

Clementine peers down at the ring on her finger, and says, “Now that I have the rings, I’m going to do it tomorrow. In the evening. I like your idea, Ruby, about the candles in the music room.”

“Thought ya would,” Ruby grins. “We keep a bunch of ‘em down here. We’ll all help ya decorate, ‘cept keepin’ Louis outta there might be a task.”

“That’s easy,” Mitch says. “Send him hunting for the day, him and Aasim.”

“My goodness, there’s an idea,” says Ruby, “that way, Aasim can keep an eye on him and make sure he don’t wander back here unannounced.”

“James, too,” Clementine adds. “Just in case Louis doesn’t listen to Aasim, or they get in a tight spot.”

“Right!” Ruby claps her hands. “Oh, I’m gettin’ excited again!”

“Geez, you’re acting more excited than she is,” Mitch jerks his thumb at Clementine.

“Believe me, I don’t think anyone’s as excited as I am,” Clementine smiles, holding up her hand to admire the ring one last time before slipping it back in the box. “It’s just a lot to take in. We just have to be careful now. Louis can’t know anything.”

They all turn to Willy, who hangs his head in shame once more.

“I said it was an accident.”

“I know,” Clementine sighs. “Maybe you should avoid him for now, Willy. Just in case. And, Mitch,” she turns to him, “don’t throw any more shoes at him.”

“Hey, you want him wandering down here? No, you don’t. Thought we established that. ‘Sides, the ring’s done. Nothing left for me to work on.”

“Right, but still, you can’t be acting all suspicious. He’s already worried about you. That’s why he tried to come down here yesterday.”

“Pfft,” Mitch scowls. “Worried…”

“Well, while we know Lou’s in the music room, I’ll gather everyone before they turn in and we can discuss the plan. Don’t worry, we’ll be discreet,” Ruby assures her. “Mitch, yer on candle and match duty. Willy, in the mornin’ I want ya ta go out and pick as many pretty flowers as ya can.”

“Aw,” Willy pouts, “how come I got flower duty?”

“It’s either that or ya gotta help Omar cook. Yer choice.”

Willy doesn’t argue. Omar’s a genuinely nice guy, but he’s also an incredibly particular cook. Willy wasn’t going to willingly put himself into that nightmare.

Soon, they have all the details worked out.

Aasim and James will take Louis far away to go hunting until evening, giving them a few hours to set up.

Ruby will work on setting up a little picnic area for them on the floor and figure out the music. Willy will go around with Tenn and AJ to pick enough flowers for a bouquet, as well as decorate an old vase to put them in. Omar will cook them something extra special, and Mitch will gather all the candles and place them in the safest places around the music room.

As for Clementine herself, she’ll help fix things up in the piano room, but there’s something else she wants to try, as well. Something that she’s been contemplating for the past week.

She hides the box in her jacket with a big, dumb grin stuck on her face. She still can’t believe that Mitch, James, and Willy actually made her a matching set of wedding rings. She tries not to show it, but the very thought of both her and Louis wearing them makes her giddy.

But, there’s still an issue pressing on her mind.

“Ruby?” Clementine’s grin is replaced with a worrying frown. “Are… are you going to tell Violet?”

And, just like that, the room becomes tense.

“Violet?” asks Willy.

“Oh, well, shoot,” Ruby mutters, “didn’t even think of Vi.”

“Don’t fucking bother,” Mitch snaps. “She’s not gonna give a shit, and if she does, she’ll just ruin the whole thing.”

Ruby looks up at Mitch with distraught eyes. “We gotta tell her, Mitch. She’ll feel left out-”

“Oh, don’t start with that bullshit. Why do you anyways try to include her?”

“Because whether you like it or not, she’s one of us. She’s family.”

“Oh, please. She’s an asshole!”

“You bite yer tongue, right now!”

“Well, it’s true!”

“The only reason she’s mean ta you is because yer a jerk ta her first! God, everyone else is decent, why can’t you be?”

A sick feeling comes over her. Clementine can’t quite place what it actually is, but it always boils within her whenever the idea of talking to Violet strikes her.

Over the past two years, she’s tried talking to Violet. Not big things. Saying, “Hello,” or “How are you?” or “Are you okay?” 

Every single time, Violet doesn’t mutter a single word. All she gives is a glare and the view of her back as she walks away.

She told Louis how much she missed Violet once.

He watched her suffer after losing Violet as a close friend. There were a few nights just after the delta that Clementine found herself crying, and he was there to hold her, to promise her that Violet would come around, she just needed time.

Louis tried to fix things between her and Violet.

She can still remember that night. He snuck into the darkness of the room. AJ was fast asleep.

Clementine can remember the rage filling her insides when she saw the bruise forming on his face and the tears slipping down his cheeks. She barely made it to the door before Louis grabbed her, begging her not to go after Violet, that she didn’t even know what happened. AJ woke up, and Louis lied about what was wrong. It was only when they were alone in the hallway that he told her what happened.

They’d gotten into an argument, Louis and Violet. An argument about her. Louis defended her and tried to understand Violet’s animosity. She refused to talk. She only cussed and shoved him away. 

Louis got too close, and like a reflex, Violet swung.

Violet didn’t come out of her room for almost two weeks after that. She spoke to no one but Tenn when he brought her food. 

She didn’t come out until Louis spoke to her again.

And it all happened because of her…

“Don’t worry about it, Ruby,” Clementine speaks up. “I’ll tell her.”

“The fuck you will!” Mitch‘s brow furrows in fury and his fists curl. 

“It’s not like she’ll try to stab me just for talking to her,” Clementine argues.

“Oh yeah? Just like how she didn’t try to stab you after the delta, right? For fuck's sake, had Louis and James not stepped in you would’ve had a nice big gash right between your eyes! She attacked you, Clem! And she’s never said sorry or even pretended that she felt guilty about it! She betrayed us! She’s a traitor!”

“Mitch!” Ruby gasps out. “Don’t talk so ugly! Vi’s no such thing! That was years ago and things have changed! Maybe if you put in some more effort-”

“Oh, fucking hell-”

“-then you wouldn’t be so damn quick to be cruel! And y’know, maybe it is time they finally sort this out.”

“Fuck that!”

Clementine straightens herself out and confidently stands up to Mitch. 

“I appreciate your concern, but-”

“My concern ?” Mitch glares. “What, my concern that I’ll have to dig your grave when that bitch snaps and puts a fucking cleaver in you?”

“She wouldn’t really do that, right?” Willy says, eyes widening.

“Of course she would! She’s-”

“Mitchell Robert Daymond!” Ruby exclaims, causing all of them to jump, startled. All eyes fall on Ruby’s small, angry form as she points right at Mitch’s face. “That is enough outta you. This ain’t yer choice, and bein’ a prick about it ain’t gonna get yer way! Gah, ya act like Vi’s some sorta- sorta monster and I’m sick of it.” 

Mitch opens his mouth to speak, only to have Ruby cut him off. 

“ No ,” she demands. “ No more .”

The air becomes uncomfortably heavy as the two glare at one another. Clementine finds herself breathing slower as if a regular breath would be too much for the tension. Glancing over at poor Willy, she finds him standing close behind Mitch, still gripping his arm and looking between the two. 

Only when Mitch tears his gaze away to scowl at the floor does Ruby turn back to Clementine.

“If this is somethin’ ya wanna do, then we’re right behind ya,” she says. “Vi’s not gonna be happy about it, that’s fer sure, but she won’t do nothin’ ta hurt ya, either. I know it.”

The tension in her shoulders relax with her sigh as Clementine nods. 

“I know, and you’re right. I’m tired of this. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life avoiding her when I can try and make things right. Maybe we won’t ever be friends again, but we can at least be on speaking terms." Clementine looks to her ring once more. “Louis will want her at the wedding, and if she isn’t there because of me…”

“Do what ya can, Clem,” Ruby smiles, placing a comforting hand on Clementine’s shoulder. “Just... promise you’ll be careful?”

“I will.”

“Fucking shit,” Mitch hisses under his breath, rubbing both hands over his face in frustration. “If you’re actually serious, then you’re not going alone. I’ll go with you and make sure she doesn’t pull anything.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Ruby objects. “Yer not exactly sensitive when it comes to stuff like this.”

“Fuck off, I can be sensitive,” Mitch snaps. “I mean- Not that I’d- ... It’s better if someone goes with her and last I checked, you’re supposed to be on watch with Aasim right now. And don’t you have a plan to share, too?”

Ruby hesitates, turning to Clementine with concern. 

Clementine can see why Mitch tagging along wouldn’t be ideal, but she had to admit that having a backup would make her feel a little bit better. Even if he merely escorted her to Violet’s room or made it known that he was only there to keep things from escalating to a boiling point- which, again, Mitch isn’t the ideal candidate for this role- it’d make her feel better.  

Then again, Violet might be doubly pissed to see Mitch, as well.  If there’s anyone she despises as much as Clementine, it’s Mitch.

“You don’t have to-” Clementine starts, only to have him raise his hand. 

“Yeah, I don’t have to do anything,” he frowns. “But, I’m gonna anyway.”

That gets a smile out of her. 

“And you won’t threaten her?”

He stares, then lowers his head in defeat. 

“I won’t say nothin’ unless I gotta.” Then, he turns to Willy. “You okay to clean this place up yourself?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Willy smiles.

“Well, ehm, guess I’ll get Aasim and James and tell ‘em ‘bout the plan,” says Ruby. “Vi should be in her room. She usually turns in early when she doesn’t have watch.”

Before leaving, Ruby turns to Mitch with one final warning, “Be nice.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The feeling’s back, twisting in Clementine’s gut and accelerating her heart.

With that, they leave the basement.

---

The music room is filthy. 

Usually, Louis doesn’t notice or even pay much attention to the cleanliness of any room within the school due to the fact this everywhere is dirty. It doesn’t matter how much Ruby pushes or how many times Aasim scolds them for leaving messes wherever they go, the school will never match the cleanly standards it had prior to the end of the world. 

They have more important things to think about anyway, right?

Or maybe they just can’t be bothered. 

Perhaps both. 

But when he sat at the piano, fingers playing the keys he knew by heart, he noticed a thick layer of dust settled on the worn wood.

Swiping a finger across the top left him absolutely disgusted. To be honest, he can’t remember the last time he actually cleaned the piano, but given that the layer of dust is thick enough to make actual dust bunnies out of, it’s been a while. 

In fact, the music room is kind of a disaster. 

And he needs a better distraction anyway.

Sorting through the records he kept, he picks a classic record to play at random and gets to work. 

Within an hour, he’s already filled an old cardboard box with the trash that once occupied the floor, the tables, and everywhere else that garbage built up over years. Old soda cans, soiled books, broken shards of glass by the windows- all gone. 

Louis wipes down the piano with an old T-shirt he oddly found beneath the couch. Pictures from what looks to be a pirate comic fill the front of the shirt and for the life of him, he can’t remember whose shirt this is. Or was. 

He knows he’s seen it before, knows someone wore it… someone not around anymore.

Shit. 

Nevermind, he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Pushing that thought out of mind, he continues wiping away the dust. While the piano would always be worn, defaced, and out of tune, he still loved it and should remember to keep better care of it. 

So many memories were made sitting here. 

Most good, some bad. 

Memories of him sitting there with clumsy fingers, young and untrained, awaiting his cue from Minnie as she finished jotting down lyrics to their song. 

“Nevermind the darkness, nevermind the storm-”

Memories of him entertaining Tenn when he was scared of a thunderstorm, or playing something silly to make Violet smile. 

Memories of him and Clementine the night of the delta attack. 

“You are super cute.”

“Cute? Wow, uhm-”

Their first kiss. 

Louis runs his finger over their initials encased in a heart, carved by Clementine’s own hand that night right before he opened up to her, thanked her for being with him despite… well, everything. 

God, it seems so far away. 

Since then, more memories have festered within these walls, here at the piano.

“For once, I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

“Why?”

Satisfied with his work, Louis tosses the shirt away. He slips off his jacket, setting it over the arm of the couch before placing himself comfortably at the piano once more. 

“First of all, it’s going to take us a million years to build all nine-hundred floors. Second, we’re going to need so much paint, and even with all of us helping, it’s going to take us two million years to paint it all! Third, nine-hundred floors means-”

“Nine-hundred and fourteen.”

A deep breath. 

“Excuse me, nine-hundred and fourteen floors means this house is going to be high up in the stars- literally in space!- and you yourself said that you hate climbing stairs. Do you know how many sets of stairs we’re going to need to make it to the top?”

“We’ll have an elevator.”

“That goes through the whole place?”

“Yep. Up, down, and sideways.”

“That’s ridiculous. I love it.”

Eyes close. 

Clementine laughs, pushing against his shoulder as he shakes his head. Whether his chuckle is due to the madness of Clementine’s floor plan, or because her fingers continue to purposely play the wrong keys, he doesn’t know anymore. 

“Then, what about a slide?” she suggests. “A big metal slide that loops around and brings you from top to bottom in seconds.”

“I like it, I like it,” he ponders, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Except, that won’t help us in actually getting to the top.” 

The cool air blows in through the open window, flickering the flames of his candles and kissing the warmth of his cheeks. 

“What’ll be at the top, anyway?” she asks. “What’ll be worth climbing all those stairs to see?” 

“I don’t know, but it has to be something special.” He thinks about it for a moment. “What do you want?”

“Me?” she asks.

Pulling her hand off the keys, holding it in his own, he asks, “What do you want at the top?”

Another deep breath. 

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon, Clem,” Louis urges. “Anything you want. Name it.” 

She stares down at their linked hand, eyes drift shut as she thinks. 

“Well… we have to have that skylight, right?”

“Obviously, but that’s something I wanted, remember?” 

“Well, I want one, too. If we’re going to be up in space, I want to see it. Imagine seeing the moon that up close.”

“Maybe we’ll have aliens tapping on our roof.”

“I hope so.” 

He kisses her forehead, then her cheek, whispering in her ear, “What do you really want, Clementine?”

Louis’ fingers move effortlessly. 

His soft lullaby fills the air. 

“A tree,” she says firmly. “An apple tree with bright red Honeycrisps, right in the corner, and it’s roots throughout the floor, and-” she grabs his hand, comparing it to hers by pressing their palms together, “- a piano in the center. Any kind you want.”

Their fingers lace together.

“A glossy, grand piano. Mahogany- the color of leaves in autumn,” he brushes a curl from her face, “unbreakable and always in tune.” 

“And you’ll teach me to play?”

“You willing to climb nine-hundred and fourteen floors every day for your lessons?”

“Of course.”

It’s been a long time since he’s thought of their home- rather, their outrageous dream house that was inspired by the depressing story of how his own parents didn’t get to finish building their new home. 

A royal purple, nine-hundred and fourteen floor mansion with a treehouse, a skylight, and an apple tree growing on the top floor. Several pools, movie theatres, pizza parlors, bedrooms, bathrooms with hot tubs and full body showers, aquariums, roller parks- and even with all those things, they still have plenty of room left. 

Louis knows the possibility of that mansion coming to fruition is lower than low, they both know that, but it doesn’t make it any less fun to imagine.

How many nights did they stay up in bed discussing what kind of statue they wanted for the fountain, or what shade of purple they’d paint their bedroom, or how many dogs they would adopt, or if they were going to make Mitch sleep in the treehouse rather than giving him his own room? 

Louis stops playing, chuckling to himself. 

It’s been a long time since he’s played by himself happily, or since he’s thought of composing a brand new song. Usually, when he’s down here so late by himself, it’s to calm down after an all-consuming nightmare-

No.

Don’t think about that. 

Don’t think about that.

Don’t think. 

“An apple tree with bright red Honeycrisps, right in the corner, and it’s roots throughout the floor...”

Maybe he can’t build Clementine an outrageous purple mansion, but he can write her a new song.  

As Louis becomes lost in the music, a brief thought runs through his mind.

Finally... a nice night.

[ericsonclan]

Who's The Hottest of Them All

Summary: After some time, the much-awaited second tournament begins, answering the question: who will win the title of Hottest Girl?

Read on A03:

Chapter 1

A few weeks had passed since Louis had declared that another tournament would be held. Everyone had been excited by the promise of it, but with fighting off the Bodacious Bandits and a treasure hunt that ended with finding an enchanted squid the thought of the tournament had slipped away. Until one night when Louis brought it up again, reinvigorating the fire of determination in the participants.

The following day the crew gathered around, excited for the upcoming tournament.

“I don’t see why I can’t be the one to fight for Clem.” AJ crossed his arms with a look of frustration on his face.

“Sorry, buddy.” Louis put his hand on AJ’s shoulder “But this is a couples tournament.” Louis flashed a sympathetic smile. It didn’t seem to work that well on AJ who still looked upset.

“Okay, but you better win.” AJ glared into Louis’ eyes with a serious look.

“I’ll try my best, little man.” Louis gave a thumbs up as a confident grin covered his face.

With that Louis turned around to his fellow competitors which consisted of Mitch, Aasim and Violet. Prisha had wanted to join in as well to prove that Violet was the Hottest Girl, but after the rest of the crew objected - saying it wasn’t fair since Violet had already won once - (not to mention the fact that it would give the couple an unfair advantage with two people in the tournament) Prisha stepped down. She stood with the other girls on the sidelines looking pouty.

“So, this is everyone?” Louis looked around at the other three competitors before his eyes wandered over to Marlon who was busy petting Rosie. “You want to join, Marlon? You could fight for Sophie.” Louis had a playful expression on his face. “After all, she did fight for you.”

“I didn’t fight for him. I just want to duel, thinking it would be fun.” Sophie’s voice drew their attention. She walked over to stand by Brody. Her hand traveled down to her rib cage and gently rubbed her side. “It just didn’t turn out that way for me.”

“I’m really sorry.” Prisha had a sad look on her face.

“No, it’s fine, really.” Sophie waved her hands with a reassuring smile before turning her attention back to Louis. “So he doesn’t need to fight if he doesn’t want to.”

“No. I’ll join in, but I’m fighting for my hair.” Marlon declared then proceeded to stride over to the others. The crew looked a bit confused. “If I win, you all have to admit my hair is cool.”

The crew let out a collective groan.

“Fine. It’s a deal.” Louis shook Marlon’s hand. “Now, on to the matches.” Louis’ face suddenly lit up with shock. “Wait! I forgot one more rule. Before the duel, the two opponents have to give a speech on why their person is the hottest.”

The others looked shocked and flustered by this new rule that had come to light.

“What? Why? We don’t even know if the girls gave their reasons for why we were hot.” Mitch huffed. A light pink blush had traveled all the way up to his ears.

Louis shrugged playfully with mock sadness on his face. “Oh well, if you can’t follow the rules then I guess you won’t compete.”

“Nuh uh. Fuck that! Brody is the hottest and I’m gonna prove it!” Mitch exclaimed, his face growing redder by the second.

“Please. I’m going to prove you all wrong.” Aasim smirked, a hand placed on his hip. The arguing continued for a few minutes, each competitor already ready to defend their significant other except Marlon who stood awkwardly in the corner watching the fighting go down.

After a while it calmed down and the first match was called. Louis and Violet stood side by side. Violet’s gaze didn’t leave the floor. All of her focus was on trying to summon up the courage for her speech.

Louis picked up on his friend’s behavior and decided that it would probably be for the best if he went first. He took a deep breath before smiling as he looked out at the rest of his crew. His smile immediately faltered when he realized he had to actually start his speech. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. “What could I possibly say that would capture all the wonders of our fair Clementine? In truth, I cannot, for what could I, a mere man say that could properly express the essence of the Clemster? If I were to compare Clem to a summer’s day, then-“ He was suddenly cut off by Aasim’s annoyed groan.

“You’re not even saying anything.” Aasim glared in irritation towards the captain.

“Yes! Yes I am!” Louis pushed back his coat, placing his hands on his hips. “You're just rushing me!”

“Well, you’re so fucking slow! Vi should just say her speech.” Mitch snapped, his arms crossed.

Violet’s wide eyes shot up, looking around for a minute when her eyes caught Prisha’s. Her sight returned to the deck. Slowly Violet clenched her fists, holding them for a few seconds. With a deep breath she looked back up.

“Prisha has the most beautiful-” Violet’s voice faltered out. Turning her gaze away from the crew, she tried again. “When she smiles-” Violet felt so overwhelmed. She was barely mustering these sentences. “And that’s why Prisha is the hottest!”

“That was just as unclear.” Aasim shook his head with a tired sigh.

“Well, it was clear to me and that’s what matters.” Prisha looked over at Violet with a gentle smile on her face.

Violet glanced up at that statement, her eyes wide before looking away.

“Let’s just start the fight.” Violet mumbled and then proceeded to put on her gloves, tucking away a wooden dagger in her sheath. Placing her left foot in front and the right foot behind, she got into her usual fighting stance.

Louis stared at her with a frightened look. How was he going to win? His hands shook slightly as he picked up a wooden sword.

“It’s okay, Louis! You’ve got this!” Clementine’s voice was so warm and reassuring, just hearing it made Louis’s heart calm down.

But it didn’t last long when suddenly Violet rushed forward, lunging toward him with a punch. Her right fist was twisting into a devastating attack. Louis let out a panicked yelp, barely blocking it as he stumbled backwards. He didn’t even have time to process the first attack when the second one landed in his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Louis clutched his stomach only for Violet to place her hands on the floor and with a quick sweep of the legs he was defeated. Violet gave a confident smirk before taking off her gloves and helping Louis up. Prisha cheered loudly, proud of Violet’s skills. Violet’s blush grew as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“You won fair and square.” Louis smiled before walking over to a barrel filled with water. Without warning, he shoved his face in it, causing a large splash. Clementine ran over.

“Louis! Are you okay?” Clementine placed a hand of his back, a look of worry on her face.

After a few seconds Louis shot his face up, sputtering out a lot of water and shaking his head, causing water droplets to fly off his dreadlocks.

“Who, me?” Louis had his usually bright tone in his voice “Yep! I’m totally not thinking about how I’ve already lost and it was just the first round!” He forced a smile, his hands on his hips. Before Clementine could comment, Louis spoke up again. “Alright! It’s time for round two! Marlon and Mitch, get ready!” His voice boomed with excitement even though his eyes looked a bit sad.

Marlon was up the first for speeches. “I’m just here to prove that my hair is good. That’s it.” he stated in a matter of fact tone.

The crew looked at him, unimpressed by his speech.

Marlon’s frown deepened on his face. “Just wait till I win! Then you all will have to admit that my hair is cool!” Marlon looked over at Sophie who shook her head in disagreement, a happy smirk on her face. With Marlon’s less than exciting speech done, it was Mitch’s turn.

“The day has finally come where I can talk and no one can say shit about it.” Mitch gave a smug smirk. “Brody‘s ankles are so hot-”

“Ugh, stop with the ankle talk. It’s weird.” Prisha gave a frustrated groan. The others nodded in agreement.

“Fine. Brody is the hottest because...” Mitch’s face was heating up again. “I mean.. have you seen her?!? She’s fucking hot! Everything about her is hot!” Mitch’s voice cracked at the end of his declaration.

Brody’s eyes widened at Mitch’s words before covering her face. A deep red blush threatened to overtake it.

The two contestants got ready and within the next two minutes were already clashing swords. It was a close match as Mitch’s speed kept Marlon on his toes. Marlon was no pushover though. His blade gave Mitch some close calls. It was thanks to Marlon's balance of offense and defense that after some very frustrating minutes of intense combat he finally found an opening. With a swift right swing upward, Marlon knocked Mitch’s dagger away.

“Yes!” Marlon exclaimed, his hands shooting up in the air. “One step closer to having all of you admit the truth!”

Mitch let out a frustrated groan, throwing his wooden dagger against the weapons barrel which ricocheted and nearly hit Garbage. She let out an angry hiss before running into the safety of Willy’s arms. Mitch stomped over and stood by Brody’s side.

“I think you did great!” She placed her hand on his arm with a warm smile. Mitch looked over. His grumpy expression soon melted away and he returned the smile even though he was still sad he lost.

Before the semifinal there was a duel between Aasim and the two who had lost the previous matches for a chance to get into the finals.

Aasim cleared his throat, his hand in front of his mouth.

“Ruby, my treasure, is the hottest because of her soul. Her kindness radiates through and shows what true beauty is.” His voice was gentle, a light blush covering his face while a loving smile played on his lips.

Ruby looked back at him lovingly, her cheeks rosy red.

“Well, this should be easy.” Mitch smirked as he tossed the dagger in the air, performing a few of his signature knife tricks. “I’ve seen you fight, Aasim.”

Aasim gave a smirk back, picking up his weapon. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

Neither felt it was even necessary to diss Louis since he would be the first to get out anyway.

Soon the three of them fought. Mitch was the first to get out. Aasim immediately charged him, quickly disarming him in one swift move that made Mitch look like a novice. The crew looked on in utter shock; Aasim never fought like that during practice. He only ever got serious during real fights.

Louis backstepped and tried to psych himself up after what he had just witnessed. He held his own fairly well but was also soon taken out. Aasim had dashed forward, causing Louis to hold out his sword in a defensive block only for Aasim to slide around back and get Louis out. Aasim stood there, proud of his accomplishment.

“Great job, Aasim!” Ruby called out. Aasim gave a pleased smile. With two well-timed attacks, he had made it into the finals.There was just one more match before then.

Violet and Marlon stood in the center of the deck, ready to start the semifinal.

“Good luck.” Marlon got into his fighting stance.

“You too.” Violet mumbled before rushing in to attack. Marlon cursed internally; he always forgot how fast Violet was. The best chance he had to win was to wear her out. Marlon wasn’t an easy opponent to face. His defense was good, some of the best on the crew. It wouldn’t stop Violet from trying to break through though. Violet kept hitting him with fast attacks to one side before switching up her position. Her feet danced on the deck while she moved from side to side, punching before changing her speed to throw him off. He was never sure if she would attack in an instant or wait a few seconds to strike.

Marlon started to panic. The attacks were getting too hard to block and before he knew it he had lost. His butt fell hard on the ground while his sword had flown over and landed in the sea. After the fight, Marlon walked over to sit next to Sophie who gave him a pat on the back while his face fell in defeat.

“Maybe one day,” Sophie’s words caused Marlon to smile.

“Yes! Just watch, Violet’s going to win this whole thing!” Prisha exclaimed, looking proudly at her lover.

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Ruby placed her hands on her hips while she stared at Prisha with a competitive smile. “Aasim is strong too.”

The crew took a quick break to give the two finalists a chance to catch their breath and prepare. Prisha tried to give Violet tips for what she figured Aasim’s weaknesses were while Ruby encouraged Aasim, building up his confidence in himself. After fifteen minutes the final match was about to begin.

Violet and Aasim walked forward, staring at each other for a few seconds with serious expressions. Both were determined to win this. The two shook hands before making their way back to their spots and getting into their stances.

Violet went on the offense once again, knowing that the only way she would win was speed. If she could listen to Prisha’s advice and get the upper hand early on in the match, she could beat Aasim.

Aasim blocked her attack with ease and backstepped before getting in a defensive position for Violet’s next strike. After a few punches were thrown, nothing had changed. They had all been blocked and the match seemed to be at a standstill. Aasim let out a breath then looked up at Violet with a confident expression. “There’s something you should know,”

Violet tried to study Aasim’s face to get a read on it and predict his next move.

“Speed can’t win everything.” With those words, he instantly disappeared from Violet’s sight. Violet froze in place, her panic rising as she tried to find him. She turned left and right, shaking from fear of being unable to find her opponent.

Before she could find him, Aasim had attacked, knocking her over. Violet fell hard on her back and looked shocked at what had happened before the realization hit her. Aasim went into her blind spot, causing him to become invisible and giving him free rein to move around without fear of Violet finding him. Not only that, but he had done it with such mastery to the point where she couldn’t find him in time even when she was looking around.

Aasim offered his hand to Violet.

She accepted it with a scowl before sulking over to Prisha. “I’m such a failure.” Violet’s words were muffled as Prisha comforted her.

“No, that’s not true.” Prisha said with a comforting voice, her arm wrapped around Violet’s back. Prisha's expression turned sour when she glared at Aasim. “That was a dirty move.”

“It’s called basic strategy.” Aasim stated simply. “Find your opponent’s weakness and exploit it.” Aasim looked over at Violet, his face falling slightly. He didn’t think it would affect her this much. “I didn’t mean any harm by it.”

“It’s not a big deal right now. But in real battles, if I...” Violet’s voice faded out.

“We can work on it together, figure out ways to master your blind spot.” Aasim offered.

Before the conversation could continue, Louis walked over with a dazzling smile. “With that this year’s tournaments are over! Let it be written down in Aasim’s diary-”

“It’s a journal!” Aasim snapped.

Louis didn’t seem to take note of what Aasim had said, continuing his announcement, “That Violet is the Hottest Guy and Ruby is the Hottest Girl!” Louis gestured dramatically at the two of them who both seemed embarrassed yet proud of their titles. Louis looked over at the many upset faces in the crowd.“If you’re upset about the results, there will always be next year!”

The crew seemed shocked by the statement. No one had even given it any thought that there could be more tournaments in the future.

They looked around at each other with excitement, chatting animatedly. They couldn’t wait for next year’s tournaments.

[november-clipse]

Dear Nov, What's the last case you remember working on with your partner? Yours truly, Wizteria

Oh, give me a mo. Uhh......

Oh, yeah! You rememeber the pub owner, right? Gaku? Bright guy, backflipping over everywhere, honestly should tone down the PDA because literally everyone in the town knows how he's head over heels for his husband, all that?

Yeah, so. Long story, so sit down for a bit.

Gaku was a talented ranger with an insane amount of druid magic held in. I mean like, he's Talented talented. His movements are fucking unreal, even. I literally still see him parkour across building walls for fun sometimes. Anyways, he performed dance moves on the stages for a living when he was not out for quests- there were quite a lot of work thrown at him for his known talents in battle- his dance team was pretty famous, you know. His impromptu dance team used to get minor injuries here and there, so I got to know him as a really close friend. Used to chat with him whenever we had time- he was in good terms with the city guards since he helped out against monster hunts, too, so it was my job to patch him up as he excitedly talked about how they hunted the monster down. All in all, a very good friend.

Then suddenly, one day, he disappeared, with a single note left saying he found a person to travel with.

Well, not exactly too suddenly, come to think of it. He kinda got into a fistfight with a grumpy, armoured man after arguing about their beliefs around the use of their own power the night before that and- oh my god, that was Yuta, wasn't it. The fucking spear. That definately was Yuta. Goddamnit. Who gets into a bloody fist fight with their future spouse?? And decide they're the perfect person to travel with, right after that?? Now I need to renew a bet on- oh, sorry, I got derailed again.

*clears throat* Anyways.

Then like... Months later, there was like, a distant news about a crazy dark emperor who was trying to literally pull his entire kingdom and the neighborhood ones under complete control with magic involving plants that grew over everywhere and made people who touched them plant monsters, then another news about a group of heroes beating the shit out of him, then the news turned into the genuine stories of the hero team- A royal knight of spear who had rebelled against his emperor, an artificer with a knack on guns, a paladin with a plate of shining white armour, and a bright ranger that lead the team with a smile.

Then Gaku returned with a hoard of gold, and a ex-royal knight by his side- that would be Yuta again, still in his love denial phase- and after a big moment of citywide realization that Gaku, (goofy idiot extraordinare) was that ranger from the story, and a Big celebration party that was put together like a week later, they decided to settle down with a inn and a pub with a portion of the loot he got.

The unresolved sexual tension between them was so thick for months, it was unreal. Like, come on. You guys settled down together. Guys. They were dancing around each other for so long that we had a city wide betting pool by the time they finally confessed. Ryu won. He got so much gold that it was enough to hold a dinner party for the entire city guard force. Was a really good dinner party, actually.

Anyways, back to the case.

So, one day, Gaku crashes into our office and hands us a letter with a grin. Says it's a case for us to solve. Yeah, remember the Artificer and the Paladin from the team? They sent him a letter- their family emblem on the wax, he recognizes, (apparently, they are brothers in a noble family- the paladin being the older one) but he doesn't understand what they are trying to say since it's in some 'Fancy letters he's too dumb to understand'.

It was Elvish. I understand Elvish- a lot of holy books are written in elvish, so I'm pretty good at that- so I was sitting there, squinting my eyes so I could read through fancy elvish cursive as Gaku looked at me with awe.

("Did you travel with Two high-class elves, and didn't tell anyone? What the fuck?" Says Enoch.

Gaku gives a small shrug and says that he was kinda busy flirting to the dumbest rock in the entire universe to actually sit down and tell the tale.

Enoch buys the explanation immediately and goes "You know what, fair enough.")

Anyways, the letter is pretty simple. The brothers are inviting the couple to the kingdom, saying that they rebuilt it from scratch and is now having a new, elected king to lead the country. They want them to visit since it's functional and happy with no plants trying to kill people, and they have a king's welcome ready for their two heros.

(Also, in big purple letters in the end- <P.S. If you guys somehow haven't hooked up yet, I am personally going to gun Yuta down myself. With love, Mitch.>

"Yep, classic mitchy." Gaku grins. "That's him alright. Glad to see he's doing well.")

Gaku then told us that Yuta doesn't really want to go back even if it's rebuilt, since he's still healing from... Whatever happened back there. He didn't elaborate, we didn't pry.

So he told me to write a letter to them, telling them to visit his town instead- he got a inn and a bar, it's great. We do, with a big p.s. in the end telling them to write common, dammit.

They, surprisingly, accept the offer and visit our city like a month later. Imagine this- two elves, dressed up all fancy and glittery and royal with silvers and gems and cloaks, one a paladin and one with a gun, showing up on the small seaside town to ride down the street to the inn with everyone staring at them in absolute confusion and awe as they go.

Gaku (a small, normal man) literally launches himself at them for a hug as Yuta watches them from the side with amusement- I got introduced to them soon enough (The younger one is called Mitchial, Mitch for short. The older one is called... Ah, I forgot, but everyone called him Tora and he hated it.)

They were both good people, although Tora didn't talk much with his grace and everything- they never saw the sea, too, so it was a blast watching two graceful elves struggling as the waves crashed upon them, sputtering like a cat underwater.

It was a good time over all. They enjoyed our city a lot- apparently they didn't have time to just relax and chat around because of everything. I even got the tale of their adventures (Yuta didn't want to talk about anything from his past, and Gaku didn't think it was too important so we never got the whole story) from Mitchy after a few drinks, too. It's, again, a long story- so if you're curious about it, just ask. I'll tell you.

We still write to them to this day, even after they left. They're planning to visit soon again, I think. It was one of the memorable cases we got, and I'm glad I made a friend even outside the city!

@wondrous-wizteria hope you liked the story, miss wiz!

[allthingsfangirl101]

Too Much Part 2–Mitch Rapp

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4*

Mitch's POV

I watched as a few guys carefully carried the gurney out of the gym. Once the door had shut, I looked around to see all the remaining guys staring at me. Staring wasn't the right word. Neither was glaring. It was more like murdering me with their eyes.

I ran my hand through my hair as I turned and started walking to my gym bag over in the corner. I looked down when I noticed a guy walking towards me. As I was about to pass him, he roughly grabbed my arm and stopped me.

"I know you're new here," he said under his breath, "but you need to get over yourself. Y/N is well respected here. You disrespect her, you disrespect all of us. In other words, hurt her again and you'll be the one on the way to the infirmary."

He let go of me and walked away. I looked over my shoulder to see some of the other guys giving him nods and patting him on the back. I turned back around and sighed when another guy was right in front of me.

"If you haven't figured it out, we're all pretty protective of Y/N." I was about to respond, but he shook his head. "And not because she's a girl. We're protective of her because she's one of us. Are you?"

I let out an annoyed sigh as he walked away. As I got my bag and headed back to my bunk, every guy I passed glared at me.

"All this because I was too rough on her?" I mumbled. "Why is everyone so damn intense around here?"

                       * * * * *

It's been a week since I sparred with Y/N and I haven't seen her since Hurley took her to the infirmary. Then again, it's not like I've tried to see her.

I wasn't allowed to. No one was. Whenever someone asked about her, Hurley would just shake his head and say she needed rest. And then he'd glare at me before turning on his heel and leaving.

I looked over at the clock and sighed when I saw it was barely past 2 am. I threw my blanket off and quietly made my way to the kitchen. I hesitated when I saw the lights were already on.

"Oh," I said softly when I saw who was in the kitchen.

"I know why I can't sleep. Why can't you?" Y/N asked, not turning around.

"I just. . . I was. . ." I quickly stopped talking when she looked at me from over her shoulder.

"Just come in," she sighed, turning back around. "I don't care."

I hesitated before walking over to the fridge. I instantly grabbed a beer and walked around so I was leaning against the counter. I opened my beer and took a large sip, not sure whether or not I should leave.

I couldn't help but look over at Y/N, watching as she continued to read through a file. "What's that?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"New target," she said, not looking up as she lifted her mug to her lips and took a sip. I just nodded, not sure what else to say.

I watched her scan through the various documents in her file, ignoring me. The longer I stared at her, the more I realized she really didn't care that I was standing there, watching her.

"About earlier," I said, clearing my throat. Y/N sighed as she put down her file and looked up at me.

"You mean about how you almost killed me? Rapp, you do realize that was over a week ago, right?"

"Well, yeah. I just. . ." I stuttered, unsure of how to phrase what I wanted to say.

"If this is you trying to apologize," she sighed, "you suck at it."

She grabbed her file and started to leave the room. I stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. She looked up at me, a bored expression on her face.

"I didn't mean to be so rough on you," I rushed out. "It's like I forget my own strength sometimes. I don't know why I. . ."

"I know," she shrugged, interrupting me. I waited for her to continue, but she didn't.

"Would you care to share with the rest of the class?" I asked, causing her to raise her eyebrows at me and cross her arms over her chest. I subconsciously took a step back.

"You have a short temper," she smirked at me. "And you're shit at controlling it. You let your anger control you, Rapp. You sit back and let it use you instead of you using it."

She tried to walk away, but I grabbed her arm. I instantly let go when she let out a painful gasp. I took a step back, my mouth suddenly dry.

"What did you mean?" I asked, my voice soft. "I let my anger use me?"

"It's actually pretty common around here," she shrugged. "You have a lot of shit bottled up, which is fine. It's your business. But what isn't fine is that you are letting it control you. You haven't dealt with it or moved on or whatever you need to do, so it comes out in random bursts of uncontrollable anger. Instead of these outbursts, you should use that anger to fuel your stamina and strategic planning during a fight. You should use it to watch and strategize against your opponent instead of using it to give you the strength to forcefully go for their throats. Or their whole body, since that seems like more your thing." She sent me a look before walking away.

"I'm sorry," I said, making her freeze in the doorway. She turned around and stared at me like she was studying me.

"What did you just say?"

"I said I was sorry," I sighed. "And you're right. I do have a lot bottled up that I. . . I just don't want to deal with. I don't know how to deal with it."

"You want to know the first step?" She asked. I nodded, encouraging her to explain.

"The first step is to get over yourself and start listening to the people around you. Once you let us–me–in, then you can start working through that anger."

                       * * * * *

Reader's POV

I walked into the gym the next day, freezing in the doorway when I saw Rapp sitting off to the side, waiting for me. He looked up when the door slammed shut behind me.

"Hey," he said as he stood up and started jogging towards me. He scanned me over before asking, "Is Hurley okay with you training? I thought I heard him say you were on bedrest another week."

"Yeah," I said, quickly clearing my throat. "Well, he overreacts about things like this."

"You mean things like you being body-slammed to the ground by a guy at least 50 pounds heavier than you?" He said with a slight laugh.

"Just 50 pounds?" I asked as I tilted my head. I smirked when he sent me a playful glare before laughing.

"What?" He asked after a few seconds of me just staring at him.

"Nothing," I shook my head, stuttering slightly. He sent me a look before shrugging.

"Ready?" He asked, gesturing with his head towards the mat.

"Actually, we are starting on the punching bag." He looked towards the large bag hanging in the corner of the room. "Not that one," I said turning and pointing towards a smaller one across the room. "That one."

"Why is that one so special?" He asked as we started walking over to it.

"This one measures your strength," I explained as I stood on my toes in order to reach the on button. I looked over at Rapp to see him watching me. I walked over and grabbed two sets of gloves.

Rapp easily caught the pair that I threw at him. "How does it work?" He asked as he put on his gloves.

"Pretty simple," I shrugged. "You punch it and it shows your level of strength."

"Based on. . ."

"Based on your height, weight, and age. And off of the average muscle mass and strength of someone the same build as you."

He just nodded as I started putting in my data. I waved my hands, signaling for him to take a few steps back. I ignored his smirk as he moved to the side and folded his arms across his chest.

I tightened my gloves, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. I positioned myself parallel to the bag, sliding my right foot slightly behind my left. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and pulling my shoulder back, punching the bag as hard as I could.

I took a step back, getting a little dizzy. I took a few slow breaths as I felt Rapp instantly walk up next to me.

"You okay?" He asked as he stood in front of me. I watched as he hesitated to grab me but decided not to.

I nodded as the dizzy spell finally stopped. I took one more slow breath before looking up. When I made eye contact with Rapp, there was something different in the way he was looking at me. It was almost like he was genuinely worried about me.

I cleared my throat as I looked over at the bag, waiting for it to calculate my hit. When the numbers came up, they were drastically higher than the average girl my age, height, and weight.

78% above average.

"Damn," Rapp laughed softly. I cleared my throat when I felt my cheeks burning.

"Alright," I said, clapping my hands. "Go put in your information and we'll see what you've got."

He looked at me, hesitating, before nodding and walking past me. I stepped back and waited for him as he put in his information. I watched as he squared up, getting ready to hit the bag. I took mental note of a few things he could do to improve his stance.

I watched as he pulled his arm back and hit the bag with all his strength, letting out a small grunt as his fist made contact. He took a step back and we both watched the screen on the side, waiting for his results.

16% above average.

I looked over, waiting to see his reaction. I furrowed my eyebrows together when I noticed he seemed slightly disappointed.

"Most guys here are less than 10% above their average," I said, making him look at me. "Many of them can't even break 5." He glanced back at the screen before shrugging.

"So, now what?" He asked, looking over at me.

"Now, you increase that number," I said, pointing at the screen.

"How do I do that?"

"By listening and actually taking my corrections," I said with a knowing look on my face. He let out a small laugh as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

"I can do that."

"You sure?" I teased, earning an annoyed look from him. That look was quickly replaced with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

[yellowsugarwords]

Ericson & James being outside with s/o and cornered by walkers? As in like, unable to get back to the school for a while?

okay omg ima write this in the context that they’re hiding out in a tree

Clementine: Clementine was cool and collected; the way she’d always been taught to be.She’d help her partner up, then sit peacefully. “Bet you didn't think you’d be here today, huh?” She’d ask with a smirk. They did what they normally did when they were alone: spoke deeply. Hopes and dreams, wishes and prayers, memories and desires. “I just want AJ to never experienced half the pain I did.” Clem said, frowning. “And I hope I’ve survived long enough to know how to make that happen.”

Marlon: Marlon would immediately take charge, putting his partner in the tree before himself. As he crawled up, he would immediately pull them into his grasp. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Scratched?” He was hyper paranoid of something, anything, happening to his person. They’d sit in silence, Marlon running his hands absentmindedly over his skin, reminding him that they were there, they were both okay, and they were going to escape when given the chance.

Louis: “I can’t climb!” After desperately tugging him up the branch they were sitting on, the two sat, panting, trying to calm the anxiety in their throats. Out of the way, no longer making noise, they knew walkers would eventually lose interest. So, they curled their feet up and stared silently at each other. “Wanna play a card game?” Louis asked, removing the cards from his pocket to deal. Just as he started, they scattered and fluttered to the ground below. Both of them gawkwed in horror. “Or not.” He whispered.

Violet: Violet would be the first one up the tree, helping her partner make their way up. Once they hit the top, staring at the dread down below, she’d turn with a hopeful smirk and hold out a hand. They played tic-tac-toe, rock paper scissors, and thumb wrestling. The entire time, they’d laugh, squirm, gawk, and get frustrated all silently. Their own silent, secret language brought them both joy, and peace, and made them forget about just where they were.

Mitch: The moment they got up into the tree, they two sighed, wiping their brows, calming their racing hearts. They two stared down, watching the walkers meander, bumping into their tree, jolting it with every move. “Wanna make out?” Mitch asked with a shrug. And they did. It may not have been the best way to kill time, but it was effective. That was, until the other Ericson kids went on a hunt to find them and stared for a few minutes before either of them noticed they were there.

Aasim: Aasim would be freaking out. Luckily, his partner was cool and collected, helping pull him up into the tree. “Oh God, oh shit,” he’d pant, holding a hand over his chest. His partner would guide him in breathing, helping keep him centered and present. Once he calmed down, as they were sitting in the silence, his partner tried to cheer him up by talking about the things they could do when they got back later that night. It gave Aasim hope to see how hopeful they were. He held their and and smiled sweetly. “Let’s do that together,” he’d whisper to everything they said.

Ruby: Ruby would be panicked, but would place enough trust in her partner to help keep her safe. As they sat in the tree, she’d sigh and wipe her brow. Silently, she’d take her partner’s hand, staring down at the monsters below them. They would sit silently, her squeezing their hand whenever she felt panicked, and them squeezing back. It was silent, and comforting, and kept them present in the moment.

Omar: Omar would be mega paranoid, but would try to whisper-talk his way through it. “They can’t hurt us, right? Not from up here. Not unless they knock down the tree. Can they do that? Are they strong enough to do that? There are a lot of them.” His partner would hold his hand hoping to keep his panicked ramblings slightly at ease. Occasionally, they’d chime in. “Yes, we’re safe. No, they can’t knock over the tree.”

Brody: Brody would be completely petrified. Her partner would help her up into the tree and would immediately hold her, helping her breathe, forcing her to look away and not acknowledge what was below them. They whispered as they spoke, speaking sweetly and gentle. “Just think about how nice it’ll feel when we get home,” they’d say to Brody. Brody would relax over time, feeling in control and okay again.

James: James would sit peacefully in the tree, solely because his partner didn’t have the mask and gloves that he had to bend in. They’d both sit peaceful, communicating softly and quietly as to not generate noise, waiting for the swarm to disperse. Were they terrified? James’ partner, slightly, but for James, not at all. He knew how walkers worked. He had confidence they would be okay.

[buckleyy--diazz]

1,2,3 (You, Her & Me) - Harry/Mitch/Sarah • DEFINITELY NSFW, seriously be sure no one is reading over your shoulder for this one.

This chapter is PURE FILTH, in the best way! I enjoyed writing it and I am quite proud of it. "Warnings" for this chapter; Pegging, rimming, thigh riding, deep throating and a mention of spanking but no one actually get spank in this chapter.

Enjoy x

°•°•°•°

Harry woke up feeling content and warm. His body was still a bit sore from last night's activities but he felt great. A pair of lips pressed a kiss down his chest stopping to nip at his left nipple, wrenching a soft moan out of him. Another pair of lips were attached to his neck, gently sucking on the skin and Harry moved his head to the side and sighed softly when he felt Mitch's beard scratching his skin. Sarah's hair were tickling his stomach and Harry moved his hand up until he was holding them but not pulling, not yet. Mitch started kissing his way down his chest, also stopping to give some love to Harry's nipples, until he disappeared under the duvet and was face to face with Sarah.  

"Mmm, feels good," Harry moaned when Sarah kissed him right under his navel, between the laurel tattoos. Mitch's caressed his thigh, sending shivers all over Harry's body. 

"I can see you appreciate it," said Sarah with a laugh, her warm breath hitting Harry's dick. Mitch was still slowly caressing his thighs and Harry's dick twitched. The first lick took him by surprise and his grip on Sarah's hair tightened. She licked him again, kitten licks on the slit, tasting his precum. Mitch pushed Harry's legs open and cupped his balls, rolling them gently in his palm. Sarah wrapped her soft lips around the tip, suckling, and Mitch sucked on one of his balls. Harry had never felt anything like that before, he was still not used to having so much attention on him in bed, even after a few months.

Harry groaned when Mitch wrapped his fingers around his length when Sarah took him fully in her mouth, sucking hard while Mitch was stroking what didn't fit in their girlfriend's mouth. It felt like heaven around him. Mitch replaced his lips by his hand on Harry's balls and kissed his way up. Sarah was now sucking hard on the tip and Mitch was licking all around the shaft, his tongue tracing the vein on the underside. Harry wouldn't last very long, not with two expert mouths on him. He felt like he was ready to explode at any moment and his grip on Sarah's hair tightened, making her moan against his dick, sending shivers down Harry's spine. His thighs were shaking and he felt the muscles in his stomach tightening. 

“Fuck! Fuck, I'm gonna come,” warned Harry and suddenly Mitch and Sarah’s mouth were both at the tip, their tongues messily swirling around it, like they were snogging around Harry's dick and it was one of the hottest things Harry had ever experienced in his life. It didn't take more for Harry to start coming. When Mitch and Sarah moved from under the duvet, Harry's come was dribbling down their chins, their lips red and puffy, shiny with spit and come. They wiped their mouths with the back of their hands. Harry realised his hand was still in Sarah's hair and he loosened his grip, gently running his fingers through her long hair and massaging the scalp with the tips of his fingers. Sarah almost purred and Harry smiled. Mitch and Sarah moved up and snuggled on each side of Harry. Mitch pressed a kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth.

"Happy birthday, babe," said Mitch, yawning. 

"Thank you, that was a great gift."

"It's only just starting, love," replied Sarah, her voice low. She kissed Harry's chest between his bird tattoo and then his collarbones, until she reached his neck. She suck a mark right under Harry's right ear and whispered, "today is all about you and we're not done. But before we need breakfast. We're all gonna need energy." Harry shivered at the promise. 

Sarah jumped down the bed and she wiggled her ass, making Harry and Mitch laugh loudly in the quiet room. She grabbed Mitch's t-shirt and put it on, only stopping to grab a pair of knickers in her drawer. They watched her slip them on before she exited the room. 

"I'm not cooking breakfast all by myself, Mitch move your lazy arse!"

"What about Harry?" whined Mitch, making a show of yawning and stretching his arms above his head. Sarah rolled her eyes.

"It's his birthday, I am not making him cook his breakfast," Sarah replied, looking offended Mitch even just suggested Harry Would have to move to me and it made Harry smiled.

"Okay, give me five and I'll be downstairs."

"Five. Don't make me wait or I'm gonna have to spank you."

Sarah winked and finally left the room. Mitch was tempted to take six minutes to join Sarah but he knew she wouldn't spank him today. Today was Harry's day and all the attention would be on him and as much as Mitch loved a good spank sometimes he loved showering Harry with attention even more. Mitch snuggled closer to Harry and pressed his nose against his jaw. 

"Cold," Harry giggled and then "spanking?" he added, curious.

"Yeah she does that sometimes, when I don't behave," laughed Mitch.

"That never happened since, since I joined your- I mean now that we're all together," said Harry feeling a bit uneasy. Not because of the idea of Mitch, or maybe himself one day, getting spanked but because he thought he was keeping them from being 100% themselves in the relationship. They had never mentioned this before in front of him. He didn't want them to change who they were because of him.

"H, I can hear you think and everything is fine, I just happened to be a very good boy since you join us," replied Mitch very seriously.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes love, I guess we just didn't want to scare you off."

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean, even if you had threesome before, what we have now is different than a one time fuck with two other people and we didn't want to overwhelm you but now that we settles into this relationship Sarah probably thought it was a good time to mention it casually to see your reaction."

"Wow, I never heard you talk so much," laughed Harry but he turned on his side looking at Mitch in the eyes, "but seriously, I trust you and I trust Sarah and I wouldn't mind exploring this side of the relationship with you two."

Mitch smiled widely and opened his mouth to say something and Harry's stomach grumbled. Mitch laughed and patted it with his hand.

"I get the message, you stay here and we'll be back soon with the breakfast."

Mitch got out of the bed, grabbed a pair of joggers at the end of the bed that were either his or Harry's amd he exited the room. Harry immediately missed his warmth and he snuggled into the duvet and closed his eyes.

*

After breakfast, once all the dirty dishes were back in the kitchen, Mitch and Sarah got naked again, Harry watching them intensely as they removed their clothes. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. Sarah pushed the duvet away and threw it unceremoniously on the floor before climbing on the bed first. She straddled Harry's hips and immediately his hands were on hers, his thumbs stroking her skin gently. She rolled her hips against Harry's soft dick and smiled when she felt him growing hard against her wet core. She did it again. Mitch laid down next to them, his hand on Harry's chest, tracing the butterfly tattoo on his stomach, watching Sarah rub herself on Harry.  

"Remember what we talked about a few weeks ago?" Sarah asked, panting lightly.

"We talked about a lot of things, babe," Harry replied, moving his hands up to cup Sarah's breasts. He rolled her nipples between his deft fingers until they hardened under his touch. 

Sarah leaned in and pressed her lips against the shell of Harry's ear, she whispered, "when I asked if I could fuck you, you remember that?" She nipped at his earlobe and Harry groaned. 

"We bought everything we need, if you're still interested, of course."

Harry nodded enthusiastically, he was still very much on board with this idea. Sarah jumped off the bed and walked to the closet. Mitch's hand slid lower until he reached Harry's dick. He gathered some of the precum leaking from Harry and brought his finger to his lips. Harry's dick twitched and Mitch smiled. Harry turned his head back toward Sarah. She reached for a bag on the top shelf and walked bag to the bed smiling. Harry sat up, curious to see what she had gotten for them. 

Sarah opened the bag and unpacked it carefully in the middle of the bed, setting down a dildo, flesh colored, very realistic looking and about the same size as Mitch's dick, the harness she would have to wear and a brand new bottle of lube. Harry was excited and he pressed the palm of his hands against his cock, trying to relieve some tension but Sarah slapped his hand away. 

"Mitch? Could you open him up for me please," asked Sarah and Harry shivered. Mitch nodded and grabbed the bottle of lube. Harry didn't need to be told, he was already on all four, his face pressed against his pillow, his arse in the air. Harry had his head turned to the side and he was watching Sarah slip on the black harness when he felt Mitch's hands on his ass and his tongue against his hole. Harry whimpered from the back of his throat, he hadn't been expecting this. Mitch wasn't much into rimming, only did it a few timed so Harry was surprised to feel him lap at his hole like it was an ice cream cone. Harry moaned loudly and Mitch replace his tongue with a finger pushing against the rim. Harry heard the familiar click of the lube bottle being opened and he shivered when the cold lube ran down his arse crack. This time when Mitch pushed against the hole it opened easily and Harry whimpered again. His cock was aching between his legs, precum leaking on the sheets under him. He wanted to touch himself so bad but he knew he wasn't allowed to. 

Mitch pushed a second finger alongside the first and Harry moaned at the burn of the stretch. He loved this feeling and he couldn't wait to feel Sarah inside of him. Mitch was fingering him slowly and Harry pushed back against his fingers, he needed more. Mitch's fingers rubbed against his prostate and Harry's knees buckled. 

"Fuck!"

Sarah was looking at them intensely, waiting next to the bed with the fake cock attached to her hips. She walked closer to the bed and leaned in to grab the bottle of lube. Harry watched her drip some on the dildo and smeared it around like she was jerking off. She moved her hand between her legs, between the small straps and pushed a fingers between her folds. Her head fell back and she opened her mouth in obvious ecstasy while she caressed herself. She was so wet Harry could see her fingers glistening when she removed them from between her legs. 

Mitch had a third finger inside Harry and Harry's mouth was hanging open. Sarah brought her hand near Harry's face and pushed her fingers against his lips.

"Suck."

Harry gladly took her wet fingers between his lips and sucked eagerly until they were clean and she removed them from his mouth. She pushed her hand through Harry's hair, wet with sweat and tugged gently making Harry look at her.

"Are you ready, love?" She asked gently.

Harry closed his eyes, his face was flushed red, he was already so close to come, "Ye-yes," he stammered.

Mitch gently removed his fingers and Harry whined at the loss. Mitch pressed a kiss to Harry's left arse cheek and moved away to give space to Sarah. 

"On your back, babe."

Harry obeyed, turning himself on his back. He remembered Sarah mentioning him being bent in two and he automatically put his hands behind his knees, holding them in the air. Sarah smiled, pleased with Harry's action and she positioned herself between Harry's legs. She took the fake cock between her hand and pressed the tip against Harry's entrance. She added more lube and started pushing in. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes. It felt different, colder than a real cock but it still felt so good. Sarah kept pushing in slowly until she was fully inside of Harry. She moved Harry's hands always and replaced them with hers, putting them behind his thighs, holding his legs high. 

"Please, please move," Harry pleaded and Sarah pulled back slowly before she pushed back in just as slow. She started to fuck Harry slow and Harry was clawing the sheets already desperate to come. Harry cried out her name when she hit his prostate. She did it again and again and Harry's eyes filled with tears.

"Harder, please."

Harry opened his eyes, he hadn't realised he had closed them, and turned his head to look at Mitch. He was looking at them intensely, his eyes dark with lust as he fisted his cock rapidly. Harry opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out.

"I think he wants you to fill his mouth," Sarah said as she picked up the pace of her thrusts. Harry nodded and Mitch got on his knees, shuffling closer to Harry. He guided his cock into Harry warm mouth and Harry twirled his tongue around the shaft. Mitch caressed Harry's cheek where he could feel his cock. His other hand were in Harry's hair stroking them gently, contrasting with Sarah punishing pace. Harry wouldn't last long. Sarah took his cock in her hand stroking him as fast as she was fucking him. She slammed back into him, hitting his prostate again and Harry came with a long cry, coating Sarah's hand and his stomach with cum. Harry hissed when she pulled out completely forgetting about Mitch's cock in his mouth, for a moment. 

Sarah moved away to remove the strap and Harry started to suck Mitch again, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head the best he could since he was still lying on his back, his legs feeling like jelly. 

"Fuck my mouth, please?" Harry asked, letting go of Mitch's dick for a moment.

Mitch smiled and caressed his cheek, "always so polite."

Harry relaxed his throat and opened his mouth, making sure his teeth were covered and Mitch pulled back before he pushed back, his cock hitting the back of Harry's throat and Harry coughed. Mitch set a slow pace, he could see Harry was exhausted.

"You're doing so good babe. Want me to come in your mouth or on your face? I won't last long." 

Mitch slipped out of Harry's mouth and looked at him, smiling. He took himself in his hand and started to stroke his cock fast right over Harry's face. Harry looked utterly debauched, his hair damp with sweat and his lips red and puffy, shining with spit. He looked obscene, he was beautiful like that. 

"On my face," Harry replied, his voice hoarse, "where's Sarah? He added after a moment. 

"I'm right there, babe," she replied. She was sitting on the chair they had in the corner of their room, two fingers deep in her, pumping fast.

"Fuck, come closer babe," said Mitch and Sarah complied, removing her fingers from herself and walking to the bed. She climbed in and walked in her knees until she was right next to Harry and Mitch. She straddled Harry's thigh, lowering herself on it. She rolled her hips slowly, rubbing herself against Harry. She leaned in and kissed Mitch. He picked up the pace in his cock, needing to come now. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," Mitch groaned, warning Harry just as the first ropes of cum hit his face. Harry closed his eyes and stuck his tongue out catching some of the cum on it. Sarah brought her hand down between her legs as she still rub rode Harry's thigh and she started circling her aching clit with two fingers. She came with a long moan, her head thrown back. She let herself fall forward between Harry and Mitch. 

"I'm sleepy," she said and they all giggled. She looked at Harry and leaned in, licking Mitch's cum from his cheek. 

"We need to get cleaned," replied Mitch, stretching his arms and yawning. 

"Don't wanna move," yawned Harry and Mitch rolled his eyes. 

"I'll go get washcloths," said Mitch.

It's the last words Harry heard before he fell asleep but when he woke later that day he was clean and snuggled between his boyfriend and girlfriend. Best birthday ever Harry thought before closing his eyes again.