#a moment in time is the title because seeing the sunlight once more is gonna only be for a short period of time...

[heph]

A Moment in Time - Dearly Missed

[ryusei-nopulse]

hello, i was the anon for sending the leo request and that was so cute sobs 😭😭😭😭 and i have another request, but this time it's for izumi!! this can take place in their graduation ceremony where his s/o (gn of course) broke down crying, touched because the knights and them have been through a lot.

hope this make sense 🫶🫶

a moment of eternity [izumi sena]

notes hi again anon!! i'm glad that you liked it :D i.. have not finished requiem fully yet .. so i hope that this isn't too canon-divergent or short ^_^

description repayment fes has concluded, and you feel yourself overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions.

additional info ! era, gn reader, takes place during repayment fes, title is taken from this song, i once again had no idea how to end this >w>

graduation season... you've attended a few graduation ceremonies over the years, but none of them have felt quite as emotional for you as this year's repayment fes did.

knights in particular seemed to be struggling in the weeks leading up to the repayment fes. as someone who was close to all of the members, you did your best to help with what you could, but even then, you weren't exactly the most aware person out there of most of the issues related to passing down roles and graduation.

either way, requiem was.. successful. in the end, arashi was deemed the first-placer of the duel, but it was tsukasa that was ultimately the one chosen to succeed leo as the king of knights.

...now that you thought about it, so many things seemed to be changing from next year onwards, both inside and outside of knights. izumi and leo were going to work on their respective careers overseas, tsukasa was going to be the new king of knights, ritsu and arashi would be 3rd years already, not to mention how knights would most likely get new members... thinking back, you couldn't help but feel sentimental. you weren't a member of knights, no, but you've been beside them for so long that it felt like you've experienced a good amount of the highs and lows that the unit has gone through.

you felt the tears threatening to spill, but you swore to yourself that you wouldn't cry. no, not yet. graduation is a day to make memories, to cherish the company of your classmates that you most likely won't see for a while.

izumi seemed to notice the fact that you were holding your tears back. "hey, what's wrong? if you're gonna cry, do it now."

he was right, you knew that it would be pointless to hold your emotions back now. it would probably be one of the last times that you'd see everyone in knights together for a while, and you'd miss them, but also—

then came the tears. you tried to wipe them from your eyes, but to no avail. they seemed to never stop.

"ahh... things sure have changed, huh?" you sniffled. "everyone in knights..."

you paused, trying to wipe your tears. "they've all changed so much... this year has been—"

it was no use. the tears felt like they would never end. the emotions overwhelmed you like a tidal wave as you cried even more.

a few moments passed by before you felt a hand on your shoulder.

looking up through your tear-blurred vision, you met eyes with izumi. "...you're right. things have changed a lot this year, haven't they?"

silence fell over the two of you. through the windows, you could see the sunlight shining through, tinting the room in orange and pink.

you didn't want to ruin such a moment, but you felt a question weighing on your mind, one that you needed to get out into the open.

"hey, izumi." your tears had slowed down by now, reduced to sniffles. "do you think that knights will truly be alright now?"

"haah? of course we will. what kind of question is that?"

you paused. of course they would. knights clawed their way to the top after that scandal during spring. even after all that they've been through, from last year to this very moment, you knew that they'd be alright. they had to be alright.

"...just wondering," you shrugged, wiping the tears from your eyes.

"well, in any case..." izumi trailed off, trying to choose his words wisely. "i'm glad that i met you."

that certainly caught you off-guard. graduation was indeed a sentimental time, but to hear izumi sena of all people giving you a genuine confession of gratitude?

"huh..? really?" you asked.

"yeah. why wouldn't i be?" he questioned. "you've been by my side for years now, so it's only natural for me to thank you."

"ahh, i'm so grateful to have met you too, izumi!" you exclaimed, feeling the hot tears spill down your face. "i just... i love you so much!"

"h-hey, don't start crying again!" izumi responded. "we still have to meet up with the others!"

"...i can't help it! you all mean so much to me!" you sobbed into his uniform blazer.

...izumi couldn't deny it — he shared the sentiment. from the larger veteran unit of chess/othello/backgammon to knights... knights, both as a unit and as individuals, have been through a lot over the course of its history. of course he'd feel something towards his current unit mates.

"...hey, (name). look at me."

...perhaps, just this once... just for this singular moment, izumi will be up-front with his feelings, just for you.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 || dark!Bucky Barnes & dark!Steve Rogers x reader

summary: a little fresh air never hurt anyone, right?

word count: 10.3k (yes, OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS OF FILTH what is wrong with me)

warnings: noncon smut (incl. anal, oral m and f receiving, dp, and spitroasting), bondage/restraint (and a gag), some mild violence, lots of slapping, pussy spanking, forced orgasms, degradation/derogatory language, kinda kidnapping, a touch of stockholm syndrome?, very brief breeding kink, period-typical sexism (this is set in the late 60s but you wouldn't really be able to tell aside from that and the lack of technology)

a/n: the song that plays on the radio, and the song that just so happens to be the title of the fic, is by john lee hooker in case anyone wants the proverbial vibes

You needed a chance to clear your head every once in a while, that's what camping in the woods was for.  It was the perfect time of year for it, too; the leaves were changing, the woodland animals were beginning to prepare for hibernation, and the weather was almost warm with a refreshing breeze that promised to bring the winter chill soon enough.

It was far from your first time in these woods, you knew the drive like the back of your hand by now, just as well as you knew how to hike down to the best places to set up camp.  

You set down your pack and took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air.  No sounds except for the wind in the trees, the trickle of the creek, and your own thoughts which you found pleasantly blank.  You'd chosen a spot by the creek, where you could spearfish on evenings that you felt especially adventurous, with a nice dirt patch perfect for a fire.  The most dangerous thing about camping in the fall was that the dry leaves could catch flame so easily, so one of the key stages of setting up camp was raking away any foliage from your firepit, lest it become unintentional kindling.

The next order of business was finding a few dozen smooth stones to surround the fire, along with some logs and sticks to burn.  

A knife and flint was just enough to speed up your firebuilding so that you had something solid going by nightfall, shedding your jacket to better feel the warmth as the flames grew and the sun set.

Sure, the woods could feel a little… creepy, at night, for lack of a better word, but it was more tranquil than anything.  Most of the wildlife that was so active during the day stilled and silenced, bar the occasional owl’s hoot, so the loudest sounds were the crackling of your fire and the ever-present trickle of the creek.  You heated your kettle for a cup of chamomile tea, something to help you get to sleep on the admittedly uncomfortable sleeping bag in your canvas tent.

The mug warmed your fingers as you filled and held it, and the steam warmed your face as you took a sip; but the contents warmed your chest, and your soul, as you contemplated the flavors; is it possible that tea tastes better when enjoyed in the quiet woods, mid-autumn?

You were already yawning by the time the mug was finished, so you set it aside and crawled into your tent, shedding the excessive layers and slipping between the fluffy down-stuffed layers of your bedroll.  It was chilly at first but you knew your body heat would make it toasty all too soon, so you ignored the way you shivered as you fluffed your pillow and laid it under your head.

It was dark with only the fading light of your fire seeping in through the thick-weave canvas; and it was quiet, being the middle of the forest and all.  One sound you didn’t expect were distant sirens, barely audible, which made you wonder if something had happened, but you couldn't know what so you didn't pay it much mind as you drifted to sleep.

The next morning came early, of course; as early as the sun rose, warm sunlight flooding through the canvas of your tent.

You enjoyed staying in the bed for a while, not so much because it was very comfortable (it wasn’t) but just because you wanted to relish having no need to get up yet.  No job, no cleaning, no chores… though you were pretty hungry so that inspired you to get up and see about breakfast.

Slipping on a few more layers to protect yourself from the morning breeze, you opened your tent and stepped out into the woods, finding your fire had been reduced to a pile of embers meaning that you would need to find more wood to get it going for breakfast-cooking purposes.  And that’s what you were about to do when you heard a snapping of twigs echo through the woods, making you glance up to the source of the noise.

Your back straightened instantly at the sight of two men, one with short blonde hair and the other’s dark and nearly to his shoulders, walking down the hill nearby just across the creek.  They were still pretty distant, and yet they were much too close for comfort; close enough to see that these were not men one would want to encounter while alone in the woods.

They had new clothes— baggy and loose, almost certainly stolen— but it wasn’t enough to hide where they must’ve come from.  They might as well have still been in jumpsuits with numbers on their chests.

The prison, just over five miles away.  Had they really hiked this far?  You kicked yourself now for ignoring the sirens last night.

You froze as they turned and caught your gaze, the three of you locked in a stare for a brief moment before one of them took a step forward: that was all the cause you needed to run like hell, turning on your heel and starting so fast you nearly slipped on the leaves beneath you.  You heard them call out, chasing after you, but you focused on staring ahead and trying to remember the path back home, or at least to the road where someone might drive by to help you.

A root nearly caught your foot but you kept running, hating that you could hear them gaining on you since it didn’t actually seem to help you run any faster.  You looked back and saw them much too close for comfort, but when you looked back ahead it was too late to avoid the tree right in front of you; you swerved but it still made you slip and almost fall.

But you didn’t fall.  Someone caught you, and grabbed you, and pulled you into his oppressive form.

His arms held you painfully tight as his hand covered your mouth.  "Gotcha," the man growled against your ear, licking the shell of it as you struggled against his grip.  

Everything everyone had told you about why a lady shouldn’t camp alone in the woods suddenly flashed in your mind, your eyes squinting shut as you wished you had listened.  All you could do now was kick wildly, swinging your legs in the air which didn't even do anything.

"Pretty little thing, aren't ya?” he purred as you saw the second man come into view— the blonde one, so you knew it was the one with long, dark hair that must’ve been holding you, giving you such a twisted compliment.  “Just beggin' to be fucked right."

"Don't look so scared, sweetheart, we're not gonna hurt you…” the blonde man explained, “just play nice and we will too."

"Speak for yourself, Rogers," the man holding you snarled.  "Been a long time since I got to feel a pussy, I wanna tear this little bitch up."

You sobbed and writhed as the one apparently called Rogers hushed you soothingly, trying to calm you.  "Hey, just do what we say and it won't hurt alright?  Just take it easy."

He stepped closer, reaching out towards you while you grunted and whined with every kick, smiling in a way that would’ve been soothing in nearly any other situation.  He motioned to his partner who slowly lowered his hand from your mouth, and though your instinct was to scream you just heard yourself panting and whimpering instead.

“Did you hear me?  We’re not gonna hurt you.  We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet… I’m Steve, and this here is my cellmate— uh, friend— Barnes.”

“But you can call me Bucky, dollface,” the man behind you added with a little smile that you could hear and feel with him pressing up so close to your face.

“See, he and I just came from an awful, terrible place—”

“I know where you came from,” you cut him off with a snarl.  “You’re criminals!  You’re scum!”

Bucky just laughed and held you tighter until your arms started to ache from struggling against him.  

“Hey now, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve corrected firmly— not angry, but stern.  “I was framed, I served seven years for something I didn’t do.  You’re innocent, too, right Barnes?”

“No,” he instantly answered, making Steve look disappointed.  “Oh, uh, sure.  Yeah, I was framed.  Real sob story,” he suddenly decided, not sounding like he was trying that hard to convince you.

“Point is, we were all alone for a long, long time, and we thought maybe you’d wanna be nice and take care of us, huh?” Steve offered.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“That’s sort of the idea,” Bucky whispered playfully.

“Let me go,” you demanded as Steve’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, anger finally coming out when he suddenly grabbed your chin and held your face to look up at him.

“Let me make one thing very fucking clear,” he explained, nearly whispering so you were forced to stay still and quiet to hear him.  “You don’t get to pick what you want.  But you get to pick if you’re gonna make this easy, or difficult.”

You spat in his face; he slapped you for that, so hard that your ears rang for a moment while he grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Difficult it is,” he announced with ill-restrained loathing, coming even closer as Bucky covered your mouth again to muffle your screams of protest.  “Buck, I’m goin’ first.”

“Fuck you, pal, I was in longer and I saw her first,” Bucky replied frustratedly.  “I’m not gonna take long anyway, you can go after me.”

“I just got spit in my face!” Steve reminded him.  “And the breakout was my idea!”

“Your idea?!” Bucky repeated incredulously.  “What, you think you’re the first guy to think ‘hey, what if we just left prison?’ because trust me, if it wasn’t for my screwdriver—”

Their argument caused Bucky’s focus to slip, that must have been why the hand on your mouth loosened and you could speak again.

"You won't get away with this, my father's a sheriff!" you yelped, interrupting their negotiation.

They both laughed darkly and you instantly regretted saying it.

"Oh, sweetheart, your old man's a cop?  That's too bad,” Steve sighed.  “You know what they say: sins of the father…"

"Fuck the daughter,” Bucky finished with a cold, hollow laugh as he suddenly bit down on your ear making you wince and shudder, tears streaming down your cheeks already.

He tossed you down and pinned you to the ground, his strong, heavy body on top of yours knocking the wind out of you as he began to tear at your clothes and, annoyingly, not seeming to find them much trouble at all.  You whimpered when you felt your pants torn down your legs, hating how exposed and vulnerable you felt, hating the undeniable fact that you couldn’t stop this.

You tried to get up when he reached down to open his belt and jeans, but Steve’s boot came down on your shoulder and held you still again.  Bucky was rushed and brutal as he pushed his pants down and pressed his cock against your ass, guiding it between your legs as you hissed and tried not to think about what was about to happen.

He pulled back briefly to spit on your hole, spreading the forced wetness with the head of his cock before suddenly pushing into you as you gasped and choked on a sob.

"Oh, that's it baby,” he groaned, “scream if you want, nobody can hear you but us."

Already he was thrusting with wild abandon, his hips slapping into your ass as his hot breath came down against your ear and neck, his face pressing yours into the cold ground.

"Fuuuuuck,” he moaned lowly, “so tight, Jesus Christ… fuckin' missed this, went almost ten years without burying my cock in a wet little cunt like this.  Shit, it's even better than I remember."

You just cried and bit down on nothing, pain making violent shivers run up your spine as the width of him split you open, pushing deeper than you’d known anything could go.

Each thrust seemed somehow rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you further past your limits, making your toes curl inside your boots.  He was unabashedly using your body, treating you with less care than some men might a blow-up doll, moaning loudly as he split you open with every moment.

So why did it almost begin to feel good, now that the worst of the pain had faded?  Why was the ridge of his cock brushing over your g-spot just right each time he moved?

He pinned more of his weight on you as he changed his angle slightly, enough to add just that much more brutality to every stroke, the loud slapping of skin echoing through the desolate trees.  You could tell he wasn’t lying about how long he’d been celibate in prison, because he fucked you with every ounce of pent-up frustration, hissing through his teeth and holding you tight enough to bruise.

Everything he did, he did enough to bruise.

“Yeah, take it, bitch,” he moaned when you made a particularly pained noise.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna take long,” Steve remembered, staring down at the two of you from where he was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.  

“I’m almost done, you waited this long you can wait five more minutes,” Bucky dismissed, voice a little strained as he kept fucking you.

“Just stop and give me a turn and then you can get back to it,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, no fuckin’ way,” Bucky laughed, “feels way too good to stop.  Trust me, Stevie, this pussy’s worth the wait.”

“Get her on her knees then,” Steve instructed as he came closer to you and kneeled in front of your face; Bucky manhandled your hips into place while Steve pulled your hair until you yelped and brought your head up.  “I wanna fuck this pretty little throat.”

He cut off your protests with another hard slap to your cheek, tugging your hair again as you struggled to hold yourself up on shaking arms.

“Gonna teach this mouthy bitch a lesson,” he explained as he hit you again before using one hand to open his belt and jeans.  “You know what’s gonna happen if you try to bite me, right?  I’ll just knock you out and fuck your throat anyways.  So you’d better make it good if you wanna breathe.”

You tried your best to nod with his fist tugging your hair, gasping slightly when he pulled his cock out and stroked it right in front of your face.  

“Come on, baby, open up— this is the most you’ve kept your mouth shut all day,” he laughed, tapping the swollen head of his cock on your lips until you finally opened them.  The flavor of his skin on your tongue made your lips curl in disgust but he held your jaw and pushed deeper, quickly hitting the back of your throat.  “Fuck, so warm… come on, suck it, make it good for me.”

“She’s gettin’ wet,” Bucky informed Steve with a chuckle.  “She likes it— don’t you, little whore?” he prompted as he slapped your ass suddenly, making you cry out around Steve’s length.  “You like choking on a cock like you deserve?”

You made some sort of gurgling sound, and apparently they took it as a ‘yes.’

"Aw yeah, fuck, gonna fill up this little cunt,” Bucky promised.  Funny thing is, you weren't sure if "this little cunt" meant your hole, or you.

“You’d better not, m’supposed to go after you,” Steve reminded him.

“Fuck, I dunno if I have the heart to pull out,” Bucky admitted with a laugh, slapping you on the ass to make your walls suddenly clench around him.  “I know a sweet body like this just needs to be bred.”

Your sob was louder around where Steve’s girth stretched your lips, making Bucky laugh darkly.

"Oh shit honey, what would Daddy Sherriff say if he found out you got knocked up by a couple'a criminals, huh?  By murderers?"

Steve pulled his cock out just enough to let you sob weakly before shoving back in and penetrating your throat.

"Yeah, you like it don't you?” Bucky continued to taunt you.  “You like being bred by some strangers who caught you in the woods… dirty bitch."

Steve's head fell back as he started to thrust into your mouth faster and harder, the base of his cock flexing against your tongue.  You assumed it was a sign that he was close and it made you hopeful that this would be over soon, but he suddenly pulled out with an exhausted laugh.

"Oh no you don't," he breathed, "not gonna come yet, still need to feel that tight little pussy of yours… if Bucky would hurry the fuck up."

"Fuck, I'm close, I'm close," Bucky rasped.  "Shit, babydoll, this wet cunt is gonna make me come, aren't you so proud?"

Steve held your mouth open and rubbed his cock on your tongue, occasionally shoving two fingers in with it which were salty with his sweat. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck," Bucky hissed, "oh god, fuck, I'm—!"

He pulled out suddenly, rubbing his cock against your clit as his seed shot onto the ground beneath you.  You sighed with relief although you hated the way your body was actually disappointed, craving more and clenching around nothing in protest.

Bucky was hardly even finished when Steve reached under your arms to pull you up and flip you onto your back, groaning as he settled between your legs and rubbed his cock over your folds.  He didn't waste any time pushing into you, and apparently being fucked by Bucky wasn't enough to warm you up for Steve because you hissed at the sting as he filled you.

"Fuck," Steve mumbled as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down beside your head.  Already he had begun to pull back only to spear into you again, reaching deeper inside you than Bucky had until you were gasping and choking on nothing.

Bucky stood up and stepped back, pulling his jeans up as he watched you two on the ground.

"You got any cigarettes back at camp, sweetheart?" Bucky asked you, and it was hard to focus on his question but you shook your head.  "Damn," he breathed, pondering for a moment before coming up with his next question.  "You got any candy bars?"

"Do you mind?" Steve hissed, still thrusting into you— a bit slower than Bucky but not exactly more gentle.  "We're kind of busy here."

"No, I don't particularly mind," Bucky smirked.

"Can't you just entertain yourself for a few minutes while I finish this?"

"Why should I entertain myself when I've got this pretty little thing to entertain me?" Bucky smirked, kneeling down beside you as Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck.  "Wanna help me out here, dollface?  I'm still hard…"

He freed one hand from Steve's grip and brought it up to the front of his jeans so you could feel the hard bulge there.  He opened them for you, reaching in and pulling his hard cock out to wrap your hand around it.

Feeling the thickness of it in your palm now, you couldn't imagine how it ever fit inside you.

"Yeah, that's it, I'll teach you how to stroke it right…" he groaned.  "You know how many times I had to do this to myself, just imagining claiming a little slut like you?  Your hands are so much softer, sweetheart…"

His hand tightened around yours and guided every movement, which was good because you had no chance of focusing on anything while Steve was slamming into you and moaning right by your ear.

"So wet," he whispered to you, "so warm.  All mine…"

You felt your insides grip him harder and he smiled, lips tickling your sensitive skin.

"Yeah, you like bein' mine.  You like being owned, I can feel it.  I can feel that this is exactly what you needed.  Is that what you were hoping for when you came out to these woods all by yourself?  That a big strong man would show up and stretch out this pussy?  Well I'm here now, angel, and I'm just about ready to fill you up real good."

A few more thrusts, faster and harder than ever, were enough to send Steve over the edge as you felt each pulse warm you from the inside out.  Steve groaned loudly and buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, painting his come right onto your cervix while you gasped at the sensation.

Bucky stopped moving your hand and looked down at Steve.  "Are you fucking serious— did you just come inside?"

Steve took a moment to catch his breath before answering: "duh."

"How come you get to come inside but I don't, huh?"

"Cause I went second!"

"Yeah, that's some bullshit," Bucky scoffed.

"Will you just leave now, please?" you whimpered weakly from the ground.  "You got what you wanted, now just go."

"Oh, sweetheart, we are nowhere near done with you," Steve promised, sighing as he pulled out of you slowly.

You wanted to try to get up, but your limbs were weak and numb, and your head heavy with confusion.  It made it easy for Bucky to scoop you up and carry you back the way you'd run, your tent quickly coming into view which made you realize how pitifully short your chase had been.

“Looks big enough for the three of us,” Steve noted as he tilted his head to look at your camp.

“We’re not going in yet, I think somebody needs a little creek bath first,” Bucky smiled as he started to set you down on your shaky legs.  “Go ahead and strip, doll.”

You shivered, considering resistance but deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble as you started to peel off your shirt and jacket, then your boots and slightly torn leggings.

They both smiled and watched you, Bucky snorted a little when he saw how hard your nipples were.  “It’s chilly,” you defended meekly.

“Sure it is,” he nodded, “don’t stop, get in the water when you’re done.”

You nodded slightly as you tossed the clothes aside, trying to cover yourself with your arms as you slowly walked into the stony creek, wishing the water weren’t so clear so it would cover you better.

You made a weak attempt to clean yourself, watching goosebumps cover your skin from the cool water.

"Wash yourself up good,” Bucky instructed firmly.  “I don't want any of Rogers' jizz still in you when I take that pussy again."

With a grimace, you washed between your legs and winced when your touch reawakened the sting of soreness there.

“You’re gonna have to push it out, honey, it’s real deep,” Steve grinned pridefully.

You did your best to clean up, not for Bucky’s benefit but for your own, because you hated how it felt to have Steve’s spend still within you.

“How am I supposed to dry off?” you asked nervously as you looked around, knowing you hadn’t brought a towel as you hadn’t really planned on a full creek bath during your trip.  You hadn’t planned on any of this during your trip, shockingly enough.

“You can drip dry,” Steve suggested.

“So you want me to stand naked in the cold for an hour while I dry?” you realized, irritated but still scared.

“Something like that,” Bucky confirmed.  “Unless you want us to keep you warm…”

“I’ll freeze,” you decided, stepping out of the water as Bucky snatched your clothes away to make sure you couldn’t dress.  “Gimme those!”

“Come and get ‘em,” he challenged, leaving you to huff and cross your arms, teeth chattering as the wind picked up.

You couldn’t imagine why they cared so much about testing your will when they’d already proven that they could take you however they wanted.  Perhaps it was just that they wanted to know you’d accepted that.  Better yet, they probably hoped you would participate willingly if you understood that you never had a choice.

Closing your eyes didn’t help, you could still feel their hungry gaze on you; rubbing yourself with your hands didn’t help because it just spread the cold water around on your skin, rather than actually warming you up.

It was probably less than a minute but it felt like half an hour before you relented, walking up to Bucky and looking down to avoid his stare as you meekly requested, “can I have my clothes, please?”

“But I can think of so many better ways to keep you warm,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, Steve moving behind you to press his chest against your back.  You sighed with relief because even this was already making you feel better,  the warmth of their bodies taking out some of the chill while their size blocked you from the wind.  You mewled, ever so quietly, when you felt Bucky’s lips on your neck, your eyes falling shut as your head fell back onto Steve’s chest.  

They showered you in gentle touches and teasing kisses as they picked you up and carried you into your tent, the small space beginning to warm quickly with the heat of three people inside— or was it just you that was getting hot from what they were doing to you.

Steve was groping your tits and pinching your hardened nipples, while Bucky focused most on sucking your neck or biting just beneath your ear.  It was overwhelming, and impossible to ignore though you wanted so desperately not to be aroused.  There were only four hands exploring your body but it might as well have been a hundred because you couldn’t tell the difference, they were touching you everywhere all at once.

"Now, are you gonna behave or do we need to tie you up?" Steve asked quietly.

You shook your head wildly, tensing up just imagining that.  "Then say it," he instructed.

"I-I'll be good," you promised weakly.

Bucky grinned and slid his hand up your thigh, and though you didn’t mean to, when Bucky reached between your legs you tried to shut them and squirm away, it was instinct.

"Ah ah ah," Steve tutted.  "You said you'd be good."

"Think we oughta tie her up," Bucky nodded, feigning disappointment.

"No, please, I'm sorry—"

"Too late for sorry, dollface," Bucky smirked, grabbing a shirt from your pack and tearing it into strips like it was no effort at all.  

Steve held your wrists together for Bucky to tie, and they even tied your legs up bent and spread wide, finishing it off with a gag in your mouth.

Now you were helpless to Bucky pinching your clit, circling it with his thick and calloused finger, applying pressure to it until your eyes watered.  At first it was exploratory, delicate, but once he’d found the most sensitive places he began to rub your clit hard and fast, laughing every time you moaned and flicking the sensitive bud to make your body jolt.

"Yeah, this little cunt's getting all wet, y'like having your pussy played with?" he smirked.

He accentuated his question with a few sudden spanks to your clit that made you jerk and yelp.  The worst thing was that each slap made a wet sound that made you sure you were soaking by now.

“I know you want it so bad, don’t worry doll, I’m not gonna make you wait anymore…”

He caged you in and opened his jeans one more time, the process going much more quickly since he didn’t have to hold you down— you could squirm and cry, but that was about it.  

With a little grunt, he pushed into you, and with how wet you were it actually went it much more easily.  It was by no means painless though, especially since he was already moving and giving you no time to adjust.

"Yeah, that's better," he sighed, grinning as he watched you whine into the gag.  "Now I can really take my time with you, show you how good I can make you feel."

He was certainly more relaxed than the first time, his pace measured and calculated as he made sure his hips met with yours fully at the end of each stroke.  His width wasn’t as challenging in this position but his length certainly was, bumping into your sore and delicate cervix until you were forced to bite down onto the gag to cope.

But, in spite of the pain, or perhaps because of it, something deep and strong was forming inside you, tightening and twisting until it took all your effort not to let it spill forth.

He reached down and roughly rubbed your clit again, forcing a muffled scream from your throat as he grinned down at you.  “Close already, huh?  Good to know I haven’t lost my touch after all these years.”

You almost heard Steve scoff beside you, but it was hard to hear anything when your ears felt like they were full of cotton, only your own echoing heartbeat ringing louder than anything else.

"Yeah, I wanna feel you fuckin' come,” Bucky growled.  “Bet you get even tighter every time."

As much as you wished not to, you fell over the edge, back arching until your chest bumped into Bucky’s where he hovered above you.  He coaxed you along in his words and movements, your walls clenching in a nonsensical rhythm.  More than anything you just wished he would stop moving so you could catch your breath, but his pace never faltered and it felt like you’d never stop coming if he never stopped fucking you.

“That’s it, good fucking girl,” he groaned, “makin’ you feel so good, aren’t I?  Answer me.”

You hesitated, and sniffled, but finally nodded.

Even worse, your clit was so swollen now that he didn’t even need to rub it with his thumb anymore; his cock rubbed against it with each movement, the ridges of his shaft massaging you there until it felt like every part of your body had become the most sensitive place possible.  You shook violently beneath him, each wave of pleasure stronger than the last until you felt like you had lost all sense of time, and space, and really anything that wasn’t being fucked in this tent like the fate of the world depended on it.

"Get outta the tent, Steve,” Bucky instructed suddenly.

"Why?" Steve protested with a scoff.

"I can't come with you starin' at me!"

"I'm not looking at you, dumbass,” he sneered, “I'm lookin’ at her.  So pretty when she cries…"

"Whatever, either way, just go outside please?" 

Clearly irritated but relenting anyways, Steve grunted under his breath as he got up, stepping unceremoniously over both of you.  Bucky sighed with relief when Steve zipped the tent flap shut behind him, turning his attention back to you.  “That’s better, isn’t it?  Just me and you… way it oughta be.”

“I heard that!” Steve called from outside.

“Then stop listening!” Bucky suggested through his teeth before leaning down to whisper in your ear, holding your hips tight so he could fuck you harder than ever.  "I don't give a fuck what he says, I'm coming in you this time.  Not pulling out until I know every drop is in you, wanna see this pussy stuffed to the brim with my come… you want it too, huh?”

Another electrifying pulse inside you made your channel flutter around him, and how cruel that the moan he made actually turned you on more.

"Fuck, that's it, squeeze my fuckin' dick, honey.  Wanna milk all the come outta my cock, don't you?"

You nodded again, hearing him moan in that perfect way one more time before you started to feel him pulse and swell within you, streams of hot come pouring into you.  The amount was pretty impressive since he’d already come once, although you didn’t exactly feel ‘impressed,’ so much as horrified and confused.  And numb, from coming so many times.

Bucky smiled down at you with an exhausted sigh, smacking you lightly on the face a few times to try to rouse you from your blissed-out state, but all you could do was hum sleepily into the gag.

“M’gonna untie you now, you’re too out of it to try anything,” he explained, releasing the gag first before working on your wrists and your legs.  A rush of warm come oozed out of your abused hole when he pulled back, making your face heat up as he smiled and held your legs up to see it better.  “Yeah, filled you up real nice,” he informed you.  He gave a reassuring pat to your thigh before getting up and getting out of the tent, leaving you to stare blankly into nothingness for a while.

Eventually, you knew you had to face the world again, though you were more sure than ever that you weren’t prepared for it.  Grabbing a blanket from the floor of the tent and covering yourself with it, you took a slow breath to try to stabilize yourself.

For how slow time seemed to have passed so far, you were surprised to see the sun setting when you opened the tent flap and stepped outside.  You realized, with a sick feeling in your chest, that they had been using you nearly all day now.  And considering they were waiting for you around the fire, giving you a glance up and down as you emerged from the tent, they still might not stop for a while.

In fact, they’d made themselves very comfortable from the looks of it.  The fire was burning stronger than ever, three logs positioned around the sides of the firepit to sit on; a pot was over the fire, and you recognized the contents as some of the food supplies from your pack.  Best of all, Steve had found your battery radio and adjusted the station, blues quietly playing from the speaker as he used your hunting knife to whittle a stick.

Serves you right to suffer, the smooth voice crooned from the broadcast, serves you right to be alone...

For a moment, the three of you sat in silence as you took in the scene.  But when the wind changed and the heat of the fire no longer reached you, you remembered you had business to attend to.  

“C-Can I have my clothes back now?” you asked Bucky quietly, seeing them draped over the side of one of the logs.

“I think if you get dressed you’ll try to run again,” Steve mumbled, not even looking up at you.

“No, I won’t, I’m too tired,” you explained.  “I just don’t want to be cold.”

“Fire’s hot enough,” Bucky dismissed.  “Why don’t you just lay down a while, hm?  Get some rest.  You earned it.”

You weren’t just tired physically, but mentally, which is partly why you didn’t put up more of a fight before going over to the log and laying beside it, the blanket around you protecting you from the cold ground while you used your clothes as a sort of pillow on the log.

It couldn’t have been that you were asleep, because you could still hear the fire and the radio and Steve’s whittling (a constant reminder that he had a knife), but with your eyes closed and the darkness getting darker it was almost like sleep.  A draining, restless sleep that did nothing to shelter you from the memories of what you’d become.

So, you opened your eyes, staring into the flames instead and venturing the occasional glance at Bucky or Steve; the former always met your stare, the latter would only look up if a sound got his attention.

“You gonna take a turn?” Bucky asked Steve casually, motioning to you by cocking his head.

“Not yet, need a while to... you know, build up some energy,” Steve explained.

“Mind if I have another go then?”

“She’s all yours,” Steve approved, making Bucky grin as he got up and circled the log you were slumped over.  

“Y’hear that, dollface?  All mine,” he cooed, picking you up and adjusting you until you were bent over the log, facing Steve and the fire.  Your clothes kept your naked torso from rubbing against the bark, thankfully, but nothing could spare you from Bucky’s incessant touch, running up your back, over your butt which he spanked a few times for good measure, and finally to your entrance which he pushed two fingers into first.  “Mm, we stretched you out pretty good… you’ll be back in shape by the mornin’, but until then, I just slide right in…”

And he proved himself right with one long stroke that pushed his cock to the deepest parts of you, pushing your hips forward into the log as you tried your best to keep your breathing steady.

He was uniquely quiet this time, still moaning and grunting occasionally but otherwise sparing you from the constant taunts and filthy whispers.  Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best to look unaffected, but the subtle adjustment of his legs along with the increased vigor of his carving made it clear he was distracted by the sight in front of him.

Bucky’s strong hands on your hips were sure to leave marks, fingertips digging into your curves and pulling you back onto him, spearing you on his length.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he sighed, “gonna come.”

And it was actually a relief because this was going to end (for now), which was definitely the only reason you moaned in response.  He got more talkative after that, smacking you on the ass a few more times as he chuckled darkly behind you. 

“Fuck, take it, doll… take all my fuckin’ come.”

It was sort of a meaningless instruction, since you had to, but he seemed to enjoy reminding you that he was about to take his pleasure from your body one more time.  He made a weak little moaning noise, almost pained, as he filled you once again, slumping down on top of you and for the first time really showing signs of exhaustion after coming three times in a day.  You were so out of it that you hardly noticed his weight on you, or the little kisses he gave to your ear, whispering praises that tried your best not to hear.  

He pulled out and came back around to look at your face again, pulling you up slightly by your hair so you looked up at him.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he groaned.  “Open your mouth sweetheart,” he instructed, spitting onto your tongue as soon as you’d done it, then lifting your jaw to make you close your mouth and swallow.

He tugged your hair harder before he kissed you, more possessive than affectionate, but unexpected regardless.  His tongue tangled with yours as he reached down to circle his hand around your neck, feeling your pulse but not going so far as to choke you.

A little groan from Steve caught both his attention and yours.  "You wanna fuck her, Stevie?"

"Oh god, I want that ass, I want that fuckin ass," he answered through his teeth, making you gulp as Bucky laughed.

"Go for it, man," he encouraged, and only a second after he stood up you both heard and felt Steve appear behind you, one calloused hand spreading your cheeks; you whimpered from embarrassment when you felt a finger circle your tight rim, before slowly pushing in.

"Fuck," you whispered, and it sounded much more like a curse of pleasure than you intended.

"Yeah, you want it don't you?" he asked through his teeth, giving you a hard spank that made you cry out.  Bucky slapped you when you didn't answer, grabbing your jaw roughly.

"He asked you a question," he reminded you firmly, the sound of Steve spitting into his hand and coating your hole and his length distracting you slightly.

"Yes, yes, I want it!" you sobbed.

"Where?"

"In my ass!"

Your body put up significant resistance against his swollen head, but it was no match for his rough thrust forward, the tip of him popping inside and stretching you painfully.  You bit your lip but it was impossible to stay quiet when he slid the rest of the way in.

You cried out as he moaned with satisfaction, already moving so much faster than you could handle (which, to be fair, was a low bar).

"Oh my god," he breathed.  "So fuckin' tight…"

The pain was sharp, and it felt like the base of his cock was impossibly thicker than the rest of him since you whined every time he pushed in.

"Aw, does it hurt baby?  That's my cock ruining your little hole, sweetheart…"

"Stop," you rasped, "please… please stop…"

"Nah, I think you like it… I think what you really needed was just to be put in your place, fucked in every hole so you know exactly what you're meant for."

Bucky appeared in front of you again, stroking himself in front of your face, still slick from behind inside you.

"See what a mess you made on my cock, dollface?  I think you need to help me clean it up," he groaned, holding your jaw open to stuff his cock into your mouth and stifle your sobs.  The taste of your and his come was potent and musky on your tongue, his head pushing right into your open throat when you tried to gag.

Steve held you tighter as he thrusted a bit more vigorously, Bucky simultaneously using your throat as he stroked your hair and cheek.  

You couldn’t remember how to do anything but just take it now.  At times their paces synchronized and you felt like you were being filled to the brim at both ends.  Other times they were in a syncopation where one pushed in just as the other pulled out, meaning you had no real breaks at all.

Bucky was too weak to come again, that much was obvious, but he was happy to choke you anyways; and Steve, well, Steve was moaning more now than he had from your mouth or pussy, apparently trying to hold himself back even though he had no reason to try to prolong this— unless he actually wanted to see you in pain more than he wanted to finish?

“You want me to come in your ass?” Steve interrogated you with a spank to your thigh.  “Beg for it.”

You shook your head around the length in your mouth.

“It doesn’t stop until you beg me for it, isn’t that what you want?  You want it to stop, right?”

Had you really fallen into his trap that easily?  

Bucky pulled back to give you the opportunity to meet Steve’s request, and you sucked in a lungful of air before finally whimpering: “Please, Steve… please come…”

“Where?” he pressed, ever-determined to make you remind him where he was fucking you.

“Please come in my ass…”

“If you say so, sweetheart,” he snickered before starting to thrust faster and more erratically, chasing his peak which you prayed was close.  It was, thankfully, though never close enough, and you forgot that the swell of his pulsating cock would stretch your tired hole even wider.

And, you forgot that he had no reason to pull out just because he’d come.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “that was good.”

You tried to kick him away but it was impossible with how hard he’d pinned you down to the log.

“Just stay still and keep my cock warm in this pretty ass of yours, alright?” he instructed, all the while Bucky stared down at you with a satisfied smirk on his face, combing your hair a bit with his fingers.

“You’re tired, huh?” he noticed.  “We’ll get you to bed soon.”

“Will you leave?” you instantly returned.

“We need somewhere to make camp for the night, too.  And since there’s already a perfectly good camp right here…”

“No,” you whined, “no, you’re never gonna leave me alone, are you?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright?” he offered.

//

It was truly a testament to how physically exhausted you were that you managed to fall asleep squished between your two personal monsters.

Bucky was behind you, essentially spooning you while Steve had an arm draped over your chest.  And even with the heavy weight on you, physical and metaphysical, you would’ve slept through the night easily if it weren’t for the feeling of Steve running his hands over your body, groping you wherever he could reach.

You opened your eyes but it was still pitch darkness, giving you no distraction from the physical sensations of Steve's fingers delicately grazing over your skin.  Behind you, the quiet stability of Bucky’s breathing made it clear he was still asleep and unaware.

“Steve,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Shh,” he soothed below his breath, right by your ear.  “He sleeps like a rock, we’re not gonna wake him up with a little fooling around.”  

Amazingly enough, that wasn’t exactly what you were worried about.  But you discontinued your dissent as he lightly suckled the lobe of your ear, fingers tracing abstract shapes over your hip.  You heard your own breath catch, and he must have too because he smiled and nibbled on your neck.

You shivered when he started to pull you closer, laying you back to reach between your legs and toy with your overly-sensitive folds.  His fingers found your clit and rubbed it in slow circles, making you writhe and jolt as shocks of pleasure shot through you.

“So sensitive,” he praised darkly, pushing against you harder.  “Gettin’ wet, honey?  Want you dripping before I put my cock in you.”

Bucky stirred beside you, pulling you closer in his sleep though Steve kept a strong hold on your lower half.  It was nearly claustrophobic being sandwiched between them like this, made even worse when Steve adjusted your hips and you felt his cock rub against you.

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered in your ear, cradling your face in his large, rough hands.

“I— I want it,” you whispered back, biting your lip to stay quiet when he pushed in.  You were still sore, but the wetness helped ease his way as he filled you to the brim, groaning softly and thrusting much more gently than you expected.  It was all very relaxed, and languid, and… sleepy.  It was so much easier to pretend that you wanted this when it was gentle and patient like this, when you couldn’t see his face

“You two got started without me?” Bucky interjected, making you both gasp.   

"You seemed pretty busy snoring over there," Steve explained with an unamused tone.  “You know, Barnes, I actually broke out of prison so I wouldn’t have to sleep in the same room as you for the rest of my life.”

“Leave if you want, Rogers, I’ll keep the girl and you can take her battery radio, ya limpdick.”

“Limpdick?  Were you not here for the past twenty-four hours?” 

“Yeah, I was fucking this sweet little thing while you were out there by the fire doing your arts and crafts.”

And just like that, your sweet and gentle sex was gone; Steve was determined to claim you now, fucking you harder and faster until you couldn’t hold back your broken moans.  "Yeah, you like that?" he growled against your ear.  "You like gettin' fucked?  Say it."

"Y-yes, I like it," you gasped.

"We're gonna be on the run for a while…" Bucky mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder, "sure wouldn't mind takin' you with us, keeping our own little pet to fuck whenever we want."

You tried not to stop breathing entirely when he said that, distracted by Steve slowing down slightly, offering some reprieve.

"Been so long without touchin' a woman," Steve added huskily, "I don't know if one day is enough."

"Yeah, plus we've already got you obedient, trained, fucked braindead and full of come," Bucky replied, biting down on your skin to make you whimper and he chuckled happily.

"Are you sure you can share, Barnes?" Steve pressed.  "I know if you had it your way she'd be ripped to shreds by now."

"Whatever man, you're the one who tore her ass up."

Steve scoffed slightly, while Bucky continued.

"You wanna come with us sweetheart?  We'll be real good to you, keep your holes wet and full for a couple months straight at least.  You won't have to worry about a thing, won't have to lift a finger, just keep your legs spread and you'll be peachy."

"Hey, that's what we'll call you: Peach," Steve decided.  "It's perfect, isn't it?  'Cause you're sweet… and soft… and I could just eat you up," he purred.

"Wanna be our girl, Peach?" Bucky prompted.

"No, please…"

You expected anger, you expected them to hurt you, but you didn't expect them to laugh.  "Looks like our sweet little Peach hasn't had a chance to realize how good it's gonna be with us," Steve announced.  

"Yeah, let's show her how much she wants to be our girl," Bucky snickered, holding your hips as Steve started to move inside you again.

Bucky, meanwhile, was grabbing handfuls of your ass and groaning as he rubbed his cock against you.  One finger explored your rim and slowly pushed in.

"Looks like you're still a little loosened up from when Stevie here gave it to you, huh?  He was real mean, wasn't he?"

You nodded, clutching harder into Steve's chest as he fucked you faster.

"Then taking me should be a breeze."

Truly, you had no idea how this was possible.  I'm the dark it all felt like a fever dream, but when Bucky pushed into your available opening while Steve was still fucking you… it was definitely real, the feeling was too overwhelming not to be.

'A breeze' was definitely an exaggeration but it was undeniably easier, especially since being half-asleep made your body so much more relaxed.  You still hissed when Bucky's hips met your ass, you still choked on a breath at the feeling of two cocks buried all the way inside you, but it wasn't from pain as much as being full beyond your wildest dreams

"You were right about this ass, Rogers, goddamn…" Bucky moaned, holding your hips tight and beginning to thrust.

"Fuck, can hardly believe you're takin' both of us," Steve sighed against your ear.  "I know you love it, Peach, I know you love bein' so full…"

Your lips fumbled with the desire to moan a name but not sure whose to say; so instead you just babbled mindlessly, sounded just as dumbfounded as you felt.

But they weren't having any problems speaking, in fact they were more talkative than ever, each whispering in a different ear and making shivers crawl up your spine with every word.

"You're making us feel so good, such a good girl, aren't you Peachy baby?"

"Such a perfect fucking whore, so wet already just from being used."

"Want us to come inside, huh Peach?  Wanna be full of come?”

Each time you arched your back, it only somehow pushed them both deeper, so deep you couldn’t think about anything else anymore.  Bucky was moving at a much slower pace than Steve, such that they would only occasionally thrust all the way in at exactly the same time— and when they did, you heard yourself moan but refused to believe it was you making the sound because it sounded nothing like you, it didn’t even seem like something you would do; enjoying this that much, that is.

“You’re close, huh?  Gonna come for both of us?”

You found yourself nodding, even though they couldn’t see it, but Bucky must have felt it against his shoulder because he laughed a little, grabbing your face and turning you back to kiss you hungrily.  When he moved his kiss down to the back of your neck, Steve captured your lips instead, less dominating than Bucky’s but no less intense.  The moan that undeniably signalled your orgasm was nearly lost against Steve’s tongue, but they both heard it and began to pump into you faster, keeping you suspended in your pleasure.

Steve lost it first, spilling into you with a choked groan and a tight grip on your arms that was sure to bruise.  Bucky was close behind, panting with each hurried thrust until he finally moaned and filled your ass with ropes of hot come, a sensation you never could’ve imagined, let alone predicted you would experience twice in one day.

Bucky rubbed your thighs while he caught his breath while Steve peppered your face in tender kisses, both of them showering you in affection you had no idea how to handle.

“Whaddaya say, dollface?” Bucky prompted as he kissed just beneath your ear.  “Y’like bein’ our little Peach, don’t you?”

You stammered over a few different responses, none of them very good, until Steve finally instructed you: “say yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated instantly.

“I can tell you do, you soaked my cock real good,” Steve praised with a grin you could feel against your cheek and hear in his gravelly voice.  “We’ll head out in the morning, alright?  Soon we’ll be somewhere where nobody knows who we are, what we’ve done… doesn’t that sound nice, Peach?  A chance to start over?”

A fresh start never hurt anyone, right?

//

Months on the run made the night all blend together, you didn’t even know what state you were in anymore and you couldn’t find the energy to care.

It was definitely harder to hitchhike with three people, and a disturbing amount of truckers offered to take you alone but not your companions— and obviously they would never allow such a thing.  At this point, you were better off with the devils you knew, anyways.  At least with them you knew what to expect.

Specifically, you could expect Steve to be aloof and brooding until he occasionally snapped and became possessive over you again, asserting his dominance over you and Bucky however he could manage— usually by covering your body in his marks and every once in a while by covering your face with his come.  You could expect Bucky to taunt and mock you, cornering you into consenting to his relentless barrage of pleasure and pain, over and over again watching you struggle to maintain your sense of denial and disgust, reminding you that you loved being fucked just how he wanted.

In fact, today was a pretty typical day while the three of you crashed in a motel, Steve staying silent and distant while Bucky kissed his way down your stomach that rose and fell shakily with each breath.

“Bucky, p-please,” you whispered, closing your eyes so you could more easily pretend it wasn’t you begging him for more.

"What's that, Peach?  Want me to lick up your juice?" he grinned.

You shuddered and he chuckled as he knelt down between your legs to give a long, slow lick over your sex.  Your entire body jolted when his rough tongue slid over your swollen clit, so he focused there until your legs were quivering and your head fell back.  

"Mm, so sweet…” he cooed.  “Come getta taste a’this, Steve.”

“I’m busy,” Steve refused, turning the page of his newspaper.

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Bucky sighed, standing up straighter and leaving your pussy ignored; you whined a little, but it fell on deaf ears.  “I’d love to see what you’re reading that could possibly be more interesting than this.”

“There’s an article about us,” Steve answered sternly, looking up from the paper to meet Bucky’s gaze, before glancing to look at you.  “All three of us.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving you naked on the bed as he crossed the room to tear the paper from Steve’s hands.  His eyes scanned the page until he landed on the part Steve must have been referring to.  “Holy shit,” he breathed.  “Look, Peach, you made the papers!”

He brought over the article for you to read, and you sat up straighter when you saw that a photo of yourself had been included alongside the mugshots of Steve and Bucky.

Two escaped prisoners, one missing woman, spotted in woods near Schenectady, NY...

“When is this from?” you asked nervously.

“The paper’s from today, but we were in Schenectady two weeks ago,” Steve explained.  “They aren’t anywhere near us.”

It brought back memories of TV broadcasts you’d seen in hotels, radio news Steve had turned off before you heard too much.  Phrases like ‘statewide manhunt,’ ‘federal investigation,’ and ‘trafficked woman,’ which had once been foreign to you, now represented your deepest anxieties.

Bucky saw the fear on your face and knelt down on the bed beside you, stroking your face gently.  “Aw, Peach, don’t be scared… they’re not gonna find us, I promise.”

“If they did… what would happen to me?” you asked weakly.  You truly had no idea if you’d be returned home and treated as the victim of a crime, or if you’d be arrested and charged as a perpetrator, as a collaborator who aided in the escape and continued flee of two violent criminals.  They’d already gotten you in on a few robberies, even one bank— could you defend yourself by saying that you were forced to do it?  

“Nobody’s gonna take you away from us,” Bucky assured sternly, not quite answering your question but making it clear that was all you were gonna get.  You reached up to rest your hand atop his where it held your cheek, letting your watery eyes fall shut before you looked back up into his enrapturing gaze again.

“Kiss me, Bucky, please,” you whispered, making him laugh and shake his head.

“No, Peachy, I would but I know where that mouth has been.  Steve woke you up in the middle of the night to choke on his cock, thought I wouldn’t hear, huh?”

You gasped a little and Steve crossed his arms where he sat in the chair.  Bucky turned his attention back to Steve with a look of challenge on his face.  “She’s scared, Stevie, won’t you come over here and make her feel better?”

Steve sighed but relented and stood up, crossing the room to stand beside the bed and stare down at you.  For a moment you didn’t know what he intended to do, until he knelt down and grabbed your hips, pulled your spread legs closer to the edge of the bed where he latched his lips onto your slick and swollen folds.

“Oh god,” you moaned, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair, his tongue pushing inside you right away, twisting and thrusting and licking right over your g-spot until your eyes rolled back in your head and your back arched up off the faded quilt.  Bucky grinned as he watched you, leaning down to kiss your neck, then suckle on a hardened nipple, then lick over your hips until finally he bit down on the inside of your thigh.  You yelped a little and felt him smile against your delicate skin.

“I told you we’d take care of you, babydoll,” he mumbled, voice all deep and throaty like it got when he was about to spend an hour reminding you who you belonged to.

Sometimes you dreamed of the life you had before this, of the person you were when you only belonged to yourself, but that life was gone forever and it wasn’t coming back.  Each day you mourned it in a different way.  At first it was just the loss of dignity, then it was the loss at any chance of gaining that dignity back.  You missed your friends and family, but you realized they wouldn’t welcome you back with open arms after this long.

You realized it was well and truly over the first time a man on the news called you an accomplice to the ‘rampant crime spree’ of Bucky and Steve.  Just a few weeks later, the stories changed from two prisoners and their kidnapping victim, to three prisoners.  And yes, you were a prisoner, but the police didn’t see a difference between you and them anymore.  You had no reason to run, no motive for escape.  They were the only thing keeping you alive and free now, even if this freedom wasn’t exactly overflowing with liberties.

So, you accepted as quickly as you could that this was your new life; every morning you banished the memories of who you used to be, and every night you prayed that your lovers wouldn’t be caught.  And it wasn’t so bad of a life to have, even if it wasn’t the life you would’ve chosen for yourself— there was something nice about it, really, never very calm but still having its moments of peace and domesticity.  Like falling asleep in the backseat of a stolen truck while Steve played blues on the radio.  Like sitting in Bucky’s lap as he told you all about the beautiful tropical islands they’d take you to someday.  Like when Steve robbed a jewelry store and told you he’d picked that one because they had the ring he’d seen in a magazine ad, the ring he decided he wanted you to wear from now on.  Like being Mrs. Barnes when Bucky introduced you to his criminal connections, and being Mrs. Rogers when Steve did the same the next night.

Maybe you’d forgotten how to be anything else but their sweet, quiet, obedient Peach, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad wrap after all.

[luimagines]

How about the Reader calling out the Chain by their shared name to gian the groups attention? What would their reactions be? If this takes place after they realise they love you, how would they act to the reader calling them their name and not their title? Hope this isn't too much!Just curious about your input.

Masterlist

Let me tell you that I got excited to do this one!

I personally head canon that reader calls them Link when they're alone with them. Because it's still their name regardless but it wouldn't be fair to the others. Not to mention confusing if it slipped out.

But with the idea I came up with for this one?

Works out just fine. Hehehe

I wanted it to be after they realized they loved you like you said but as I started writing this I had to focus more on the action instead but I hope this is ok. It’s implied that they like you- or at least I tried to imply that. Who knows if it actually got across or not.

Let me know what you think!

Boys under the cut! Reader is right below!

***

The forest was quiet.

Really quiet.

It was the kind of quiet that naturally set the group on edge for any possible ambush attacks as your traversed through the green and you all tried to keep your ears open for anything that would have given your invisible enemies away.

It was paranoia at it's finest.

But that was fine. You were fine. The group was fine. You all just had to be quiet for a little longer until you all reached the end of the forest and could breath a little better.

At least that's what you were telling yourself.

For a moment you could see a clearing, thinking it was the out- you remember how nice it was to finally some of the sunlight with the leaves and branches blocking it.

Letting your guard down for the fraction of a moment was admittedly your first mistake.

Your second mistake was not immediately whipping your shield over your head to block the blows when you heard the familiar twang of a bow string.

Multiple arrows hit your group all at once. Like an avalanche of piercing blows raining down upon your group. Most of them avoided getting hit- thankfully- and were quick to spring into action.

You saw Wild take a shot and you were sure that Warrior was shot as well but you were too preoccupied with the protruding sticks in your leg and shoulder blade to take account of any more injuries your boys may have sustained.

This wasn't ideal but you could still move and you could still fight. You had a potion in your bag that hung by your hip and you were prepared to take more damage now that the fight had commenced.

When the raining arrows dispersed, the group scattered to take down the approaching monsters.

You were no exception.

With your sword now in hand and shield properly equipped, you ran toward the first of the lizalfos that broke the tree line.

You cut it down as fast as your injuries would have allowed you and you spun around as a second one dashed by your side, hoping to cut in a blind spot.

For every monster that you felled, another came to take its place and it kept you stuck in one area, unable to disengage and help your friends as you heard struggle with their own hoard of monsters.

Suddenly a piercing, sharp and throbbing pain entered your hand and you drop your sword at the contact. You're forced to jump away from an opportunistic swing and you looking down to see how an arrow has gone completely through your hand.

Not only have you lost your sword, your main hand is out of the question as well and there's not much you can do to assist or fight back in this state. There's still two lizalfos in front of you and it's not hard to gather that they know you're vulnerable now.

It's not looking well for you.

Somehow, this massive roar, from a beast you've never heard before, thunders through the forest. It's close to you and you can hear it approaching.

The monstrous call sends the two lizalfos away from you and you take a breath before trying to find the quickest get away point to avoid getting any more hurt than you already are.

But then you see it.

The origin of the call and your feet freeze mid step.

It's massive and you have no idea what it is.

It has the body of a horse with black and white stripes colored all around it's whole being. It had arms like a man and a head like a lion's and it's coming right for you.

You start running away and somehow snap the arrow from your hand from the long side so only the flint head is left. It send another electrifying shock up your arm and you cry out from the pain. The pain is enough to nearly trip you over and from your periphery you see the beast raise it's arm and twirl a weapon from it's hand. It's spinning too fast for you to properly see what to is but it's also massive and looks heavy and he's about two seconds from throwing it in your direction.

You're forced to keep running.

"I need help!" You scream and take a sharp left to try and throw off his aim. It doesn't work from what you can hear behind you. "I'm gonna die!"

No one answers your call.

In fact, you don't see any of them anymore. If you paused for a moment and tried to hear past the blood pounding in your ears you know you'd probably hear them fighting. But you can't, so you don't and you feel the absolute horror of your situation dawn on you and freeze your veins.

"HELP!" You scream again, trying to take as many turns as you can.

You're getting tired.

"Someone help!"

Someone! Anyone!

The thundering gallops of the beast has stopped but you can still hear it's spinning weapon. Actually it sounds likes it's-

"LINK HELP ME!"

A rope hit the center of your body and the weights you thought you saw wrap around you in both directions, tying your arms and legs together roughly and tight enough that you know it's cut off circulation.

You feel a weight travel upwards before you hit the ground and can barely feel the hit on your head when it runs out of rope.

Your world goes black.

Wind

Wind was lucky enough to not get hit at all when the attack first came.

He sees Wild get back up and rip his arrow out of his torso and Warrior takes the arrow out of his tunic in a similar manner, not actually getting pierced by it.

Wind feels the adrenaline begin to kick in the second the monsters break the tree line.

Everyone scatters to take the creatures down and he’s no exception.

The monsters seem to be normal this time around and he’s glad. He takes a second to take a deep breath and scans the horizon trying to figure out exactly where everyone went.

Time and Twilight are close to each other, fighting nearly back to back as they takes down all the monsters around them in quick succession.

Legend and Hyrule are behind him, not fighting together but near enough where they’re in each others line of sight. 

He doesn’t know where Wild went off to and he can’t see Warrior even if he hears him grit out his frustrations just beyond the tree line.

Sky and Four and also no where to be found and he has to stop what he’s doing when the next monsters jump at him.

Suddenly a new monster roars and it’s not one Wind is familiar with. He’s beginning to feel the nerves of the battle sink in and he hopes that the others have enough experience under their belt to deal with the new threat on the field because he doubts he can do anything about it.

“HELP!”

That’s you. 

Wind glances over his shoulder and sees nothing. He gulps and tries to finish off the bokoblin as fast as he can to get to you. With a quick prayer, he hopes that the new creature isn’t anywhere near you and that this battle ends faster than usual.

“Someone help me!″ You cry again and Wind grits his teeth, striking the bokoblin as hard as he can. With a familiar cloud of purple smoke surrounding him, he dashes in your general direction.

“LINK HELP ME!”

Wind slows to stop despite his better judgment- completely being overtaken by the frozen fear in his veins.

You’re asking for him. He needs to help you. He doesn’t know where you are. He doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know how he’s going to do this.

He sees Wild dash off faster than what should be possible into the forest and somehow finds it within himself to follow him.

Hyrule and Legend are quick to follow the trail to where the monster has to be and pass him in no time.

What he sees freezes him a second time. 

Wild on top of the monsters back- something that Wind has never seen before- you’re trapped and captured, completely wrapped up in rope and blood and there’s something- multiple somethings- sticking out of your body.

Legend doesn’t hesitate to break out of his funk first and blast the creature with his magic rod to hell and back.

Hyrule follows his lead and attacks the beast with a flaming spin attack, aiming for the monsters knees and underbelly.

But you’re not moving through all of this.

In fact, it looks like you’re not reacting at all.

You’re completely unconscious.

Wind takes a breath and grips the hilt of his sword tighter. He knows that you’re both young- but seeing you held up, bloody and wounded, like a flag over the monster’s weapon- makes him see- if only for a moment- how young you really are.

And he’s pissed.

Wind charges the monster without any second thought and goes for the same tactic that Hyrule had. Getting on his knees, he slides under the beast and cuts the entirety of the underbelly. With the four of them attacking the monster, Wind hopes that they can get you the help that you clearly need.

It still drags on though and Wind is in a bit of a loss at what to do make it end faster.

You’re bleeding.

You’re hurt.

You could be dying.

He couldn’t get to you in time.

He grits his teeth and attacks with more ferocity- as much ferocity that he can muster and tries to go as deep and damaging as he can.

He loses himself in the movements and the battle. He forgets about Wild- about Legend- about Hyrule- and when the monster finally dies- it catches him off guard.

But the universe seems to want to do him a favor.

He’s right under you and you fall on top of him and into his arms. He places you as gently as he can onto the forest floor and slips his blade under the ropes, snapping it upwards to cut them. With the pressure gone, he works on getting you out of there.

Hyrule at some point ends up next to him and takes out your multiple arrow shots, healing you as he goes.

But there’s more damage to undo than Hyrule is capable of healing.

Wind looks over you and tries to look over your person without moving your body wrong and injuring you further. He sees your bag and opens it, reaching his hand inside to pull out the potion you were saving.

He feels like he could cry but he’s not entirely sure what causing it.

Wind uncorks it and begins to administer the potion over your wounds just as Wild unleashes a fairy over you.

Both begin to work their magic and Legend takes it upon himself to pull Hyrule away before he passes out.

“What was that thing?” Wind blurts, watching you intensely for any change in your demeanor.

“A lynel.” Wild replies. “A strong one too. Are you hurt Wind?”

“No. I’m ok.” Wind clenches his hands against his pants.

After a minute of waiting, the fairy leaves, doing all that she can for you and heading the other way.

He can’t see the potion outwardly fix anything else and Hyrule’s magic has been tapped out.

They’ve used all that they can the heal you and yet you’re still not waking up.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Legend pull Hyrule away from you entirely- trying to keep him from healing you further and risk passing out. It annoys Wind because he wants to see you be better but he takes one breath to calm the pounding in his ears and he can still hear the others fighting.

“Wind.” Wild says. “Stay with them, ok? Be with them when they wake up.”

“Alright.” Wind moves closer to your side and crushes your hair out of your face. “Go help the others. We’ll be here.”

Wild pauses but nods and ushers Legend and Hyrule away- leading them back into the fray to help the others with the last of the monsters.

Your clothes are bloody and caked and beginning to harder because of it.

But you groan.

Wind lets the tears fall from his face and collapses onto your chest. 

“Link?” You ask and raise your hand to drop it onto the head of the person.

“I’m here.” Wind’s voice cracks but he doesn’t pay attention to it.

“Oh Wind...” You pat him. “Good. Good. You’re here. You came.”

Wind thinks to the amount of time he’s wasted just standing by in a panic but doesn’t let you know that.

“I came.”

“Everything hurts Wind.” You whimper. “Did I almost die?”

“Don’t say that.” He snaps. “You’re fine. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“Good.” He looks up at you. “You’re going to be ok. I promise”

“Ok.” You close your eyes and keep your hand on his shoulder. “I trust you.”

He’s gonna leave your side for a while.

Legend

Despite the monsters around them and the arrows that have pierced the group in multiple ways, Legend was sure that this wouldn’t last very long.

But then he hears the unmistakable roar of a lynel.

Which isn’t... ideal but nothing the group (or himself) hasn’t handled before.

It was a bit harder now but again- shouldn’t last long.

“I’m gonna die!”

Legend whips his head in your direction. The words to tell you to stop being dramatic right on the tip on his tongue until he realizes that he doesn’t see you.

Which means that you’re farther away than he thought.

Which means you’re also a lot louder than he thought.

Which means- well- you mean it.

Legend doesn’t think twice.

He kills the monster in front of him with a solid swing and b-lines toward you- fully intent on coming to your rescue.

 “HELP!”

To his left he sees the lynel and stops dead in his tracks. He didn’t realize it was as close as it was, not can he figure out what happening exactly but-

“LINK HELP ME!”

It’s in the same direction the lynel went in.

The lynel is heading in your direction.

And you’re already in trouble.

Legend doesn’t hesitate to activate his peagsus boots and charges after the monster. The moment he catches up, he swings his blade deep into the beast’s side and watches in horror, as it turns to face him and holds your bloodied body up high and laughs.

Or at least the lynel equivalent to a laugh.

Guilt rips through Legend’s system and he’s forced to grit his teeth and bare it. Your hits look bad and he’s at fault for not reaching you sooner.

He trades his sword for his magic rod and fires everything he can at the monster, trying his hardest to both keep his distance and avoid hitting you.

It’s instantly not looking good.

Legend is tiring out quicker than he thought he would and the monster doesn’t look any worse off than when he started this song and dance.

Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, Wild comes charging in with his flame blade and spin attacks against its knees.

The lynel buckles for a moment and Legend takes a risk.

He fires at the monster’s paw where you’re being held and watches as the ropes around you catch the flame. You drop in seconds and Legend dashes to get you out of the way- not seeing or hearing Hyrule run up behind him and take his place in firing against the lynel.

Legend grabs you and drags you across the battle field, trying to shield you with his own body and hide you against the surrounding bushes so that the lynel doesn’t think of going after you again.

He reaches in your pocket where he know you stash your potions and prays that it’s there.

When he finds it, he doesn’t waste any time in getting to work its magic on you. He tries to take stock on your injuries. the arrow in your hand, your back and your leg. The massive hit on your head and the multiple cuts you’ve gained just by existing in this point in time and your previous fights.

Your clothes are a little singed thanks to him but the flame hadn’t actually touched you.

Legend breaths a sigh of relief.

One less thing to worry about.

He... doesn’t have any other potions and he wasn’t the one to carry the fairies this time around. There’s little else he can do on his own now. Hyrule can come can heal you and the idea kicks him into high gear.

He stands. “HYRULE!”

“WHAT?!” The Traveler snaps back.

“Heal them!” He may be begging a little in his voice. “This is bad!”

Hyrule pauses momentarily and jumps out of the way of the lynel’s back swing. “Take over.”

Legend nods and jumps back into the fight. Wild had been holding his own, somehow managing to get on the back of the beast and strike it where he couldn’t fight back. Unfortunately it moves the lynel to buck and kick wildly, not giving Legend any chance to get closer to attack without the risk of injuring himself in the process as well.

But he’s pretty tapped for magic as well... 

Screw it.

It hurt you.

Nearly killed you.

It has to pay.

Legend takes his sword and spins it in his hand. He takes a steadying gulp of air and moves in.

At first it’s a lot of dodging flying limbs and simply nicking it where he can. 

But Legend begins to get impatient and the monster doesn’t go down in the burning heap of flame and destruction Legend wants it to.

So he decides to take a page out of Wild’s book.

With a hard kick to the creature’s belly, Legend grabs a fist full of its mane and hoists himself on the side. Wild has done some damage on the monster’s back but it’s still fighting and doesn’t seem to be going down with that alone. Legend takes his sword on one hand angles it to properly plunge the blade between the lynel’s shoulder and neck.

He puts his whole weight onto it and nearly pushes Wild off of the monster in the process of trying to go as deep and damaging as he can.

He pulls it out and strikes it again in a similar manner.

And again and again.

And again.

And again.

It’s still not enough.

Legend roars himself as his rage and anger fully encompasses him.

He drops his blade off of the side of the beast- not intentionally- and grabs his magic rod once more.

His magic has replenished itself somewhat but it’s not enough- he knows this- he doesn’t care.

With a battle cry harsh enough to scare even the mightiest of warriors, he fires all that he can at the lynel’s head and doesn’t stop.

Soon- perhaps too soon for Legend’s anger to be satiated- the monster finally collapses for good and disappears into the familiar purple smoke.

Both Wild and Legend fall to the ground without the body to hold them any more, Wild with a little more fan fare than Legend.

With reason.

Legend sees you beyond the smoke and he can somewhat register Wild shaking his shoulder to get his attention and his attempts to get him back onto his feet but it’s all in vain.

Legend passes out.

Hyrule

“LINK HELP ME!”

Hyrule’s heart freezes in place and he whips around to where he hears the call.

It’s your voice, he knows it anywhere but it’s never been a source of panic for him. So this is new. You almost never use his name, their name, the name and in any other situation he would think of you trying to get the groups attention but-

He didn’t even think it was possible for you to sound like that. 

So panicked and shrill, borderline a blood curdling scream followed by silence.

His blood goes cold and he thinks you’re calling for him... And he’s not there to help you...

He doesn’t know where you are or where to begin looking for you but he ditches the fight in front of him and sprints to where he can only assume you are. Hyrule tries to be as light on his feet as he can, pushing himself to the fastest he can be without tripping over himself and eating the dirt.

He reaches the clearing once again, where the attack started and gulps down as much air as he can manage.

He doesn’t see you. 

Sheer unadulterated terror grips his whole body and he runs to where he thinks he saw you go.

He calls your name and takes a look around the clearing, trying to see through the trees and the foliage to no avail.

“No...” He whines and gulps again to clear his throat. “Where are you? Don’t do this to me, please.”

Hyrule takes off running again, trying to retrace their steps and get to where he thinks the tracks lead you but he’s not making a lot of progress.

There’s a second roar.

He heard the first one but he wasn’t in a position to do something about it until you called for him. It’s his only hint and he runs toward the sound without thinking ahead if only to help you in your time of need.

Hyrule breaks through the tree line and nearly runs face first into the side of the weirdest colored lynel he’s ever seen. He takes only one second to compose himself before he charges up his magic and unleashes his fire spell, spinning against the beast and cutting into it as much as he can. 

In the time it takes for the spell to die out, Hyrule can here Wild join the fray and see him just beyond his flying hair line, as he jumps on top of the beast and begins hacking away.

“This from your Hyrule?” He yells up at his companion.

“One of the strongest there is!” Wild yells back. He screams your name a second later and pulls at the beasts mane in fury. “It has them! They’re unconscious! Oh my god, that’s a lot of blood...”

Hyrule blinks and runs around the beast, avoiding all the flying hooves as it attempts to buck Wild off of it’s back.

He almost sobs when he sees you.

You look awful.

There’s a unmistakable arrow through your hand, one in your back and one in your leg and your back is covered in blood. By the looks of it your hands are beginning to turn purple and the ropes appear to be strangling every inch against you.

You are also, very much unconscious.

He missed it. He didn’t to you on time.

BUT he can still get you out- he can still heal you- he just needs to get you away.

He takes a few steps backs, doing all that he can to aim this right if the monster would stop moving for just a second.

Out of the corner of his eye, just as he launches the astral sword, he sees it. 

A shadow.

His sword flies through the air and impales the beast in the wrist that holds you captive but it’s not enough to let you go. Granted, Hyrule’s a little glad that it didn’t since he only now realizes that if you were to fall, there’s no one to pull you out of the way and away from the hooves.

But the grip loosens somewhat and you’re beginning to be lowered to the ground without the monsters consent.

It’s a start.

The shadow for its part rushes forward and past him, sinking into the massive shadow of the beast. Nothing appears on it’s back where Wild hold on with wild abandon but it shows on its back on the forest floor.

Hyrule runs toward you, and manages to get a grip on the ropes around you before your ripped away with the monster’s backswing.

The momentum knocks him off of his feet and he watches as Legend comes up next to him at fires his magic rod at the monster’s head.

He sees the shadow get up, as if it was riding the lynel and takes a long and thin line, ramming it into the lynel head’s shadow. The beast howls and yells as if the injury was real and Wild is finally forced to jump off as well unless he was taken down as well. In its agony, the beast lets go of the the ropes holding you and you flop uselessly on the ground where you land.

With his heart in his throat, Hyrule runs toward you, grips your shoulder and tries to pull you away from the beast and the fight.

He can see it, the shadow, fighting where the monster cannot reach.

Legend and Wild are quick to join him, letting the lynel deal with the problem on its own and the three of them take care of your injuries. Wild is quick to deal with the multiple arrows while Legend cuts off the rope restraints around you.

Hyrule doesn’t know where they planned on taking you- but he’s never known monsters outside of his Hyrule to try and take captives.

He can’t fathom why they would want you.

As soon as Legend gets all the ropes cut they scramble to get the pressure off of you and Hyrule doesn’t hesitate to let the flow of magic go through him.

Between his astral sword and his flame attack, he’s beginning to feel a little drained but he can’t afford to let himself slip. He can feel the multiple cracks and dents and damage done to your skull from the hit it had taken and he’s afraid of what it might mean when you wake up... if you wake up... please please please wake up...

Hyrule gets jolted back to reality when he feel Legend’s hand on shoulder, violently shaking him. It was enough that it startled him into stopping the spell and Hyrule’s head clears a little. “Wild has a fairy- slow down.”

“I have to-” He gulps and tries to get the flow of magic going again. “I have to make sure they’re ok. They got hurt so bad Legend- I can’t-”

“But don’t kill yourself trying to fix them! We still need you too!” Legend shakes him again and pulls him away, creating the window Wild needed to take over and uncork the fairy bottle.

Hyrule whines and he barely registers your name leave his leaves.

The sounds of battle continue in the distance and the trio (well, Legend and Wild) are reminded that there still monsters about and friends that could very well also need help.

“Hyrule, get them out of here.” Legend stands and grips his sword in his hand. “And no more magic. Just wait for us to finish and get them to some place safe.”

“Ok.” He gulps and he gently tries to place his hands under your head.

Hyrule moves slowly and unsurely. His head feels light and he knows he may have over did it. He tries not to let Wild or Legend see it but if he’s being honest with himself then he can say that Legend can read him like an open book and he’s a horrible actor.

He tries to stand and misplaces his step but shoves Wild when he goes in to help him. With his other arm, he hooks your knees and picks you up with added help of his power bracelet. 

He’s tired now.

“Got any idea of where I can go?”

Legend and Wild hiss and share a look. Hyrule turns around and sees the shadow hop away from the now dead body of the lynel before merging with his own. Hyrule’s heart stops momentarily before it points to the direction just beyond him. 

He doesn’t saying anything and follows its lead, trying to get from his friends as fast as he can and into the safety that only distance can provide right now.

He’s never seen a shadow quite like this one before but if it’s concerned about your well being then he’ll let it slide for now. Maybe the others will know something about it when he asks them later?

Right now, he needs to not trip and pass out and he needs to take care of you.

He thinks he can manage that.

Sky

Sky didn't know what to think about the forest around him. It seemed to be just as the same as all the others but there was admittedly something in the air here and he didn't know how to make heads or tails of it.

Suddenly it all goes still and he's quick to pull his shield over his head and duck down. He hears some of his comrades cry from the unexpected shots that rain over them but he focuses on you and how you've been hit.

He doesn't have the time to register anything else before his muscle memory throws him into a fight and he's forced to strike any and all lizafos in his path.

He knows the group can hold their own, he knows that you can hold your own- so he's hoping that your hits were only minor.

He fights as he normally would and is pleasantly surprised by the ease of it. If only if it weren't for their sheer numbers that comes against them.

But then he hears the roar.

It takes a second to get past the initial panic of uncertainty- it's not a call from any monster from his Hyrule and there's nothing substantial that he can compare it to.

But he's traveling with this group for a while and he now knows what it is even if it's a little later than his instincts should have figured it out.

A lynel.

He take a large breath to replenish himself and turns around from the newest fallen monster.

Someone is going to have to go deal with it.

He hopes it's not him.

But then he hears you scream.

You're too far away to make out what you're saying but it's frantic and fearful.

Sky wastes no time in running in your direction and trying to make it to your side before anything happens to you.

"Someone help me!" He hears you cry.

He pushes himself faster.

"LINK HELP ME!"

He trips on a root.

Flashbacks take over his mind momentarily before he pushes himself up and begins to feel his heart pounding faster than any fight driven adrenaline could provide. He can't fail to save someone a second time.

His breathing is beginning to feel labored but he can't risk this.

Sky gulps whatever air he can afford to take and begins running.

The lynel from the before roars in victory just as Sky breaks through the tree line.

It's worse than he could have.

Not only did you clearly take multiple shots from the earlier strike but they've somehow captured you with a rope that looks too tight to be without consequence and as you swing from the motion of being picked up, Sky catches a glimpse of the back of your head, where one of the weights rests.

Blood.

Sky feels his hands clench and he raises the Master Sword skyward instinctively, calling upon the holy beam to fire it at the beast.

It does the damage but the beast doesn't go down.

Nor does it let you go.

Enraged and without much forethought, Sky charges and does not hesitate to strike when the beast is still trying to recover from the blow.

Sky strikes against the beast's back to keep on the ground for a moment longer before slicing off the hand that holds you. It falls to the ground with a subtle thump before the monster manages to snap beyond the pain and jump away from him.

The blood falls from the wound like a down pour and lynel roars again in pure anger and hatred, glaring directly at Sky for the audacity to strike against it.

Sky couldn't care less, in fact he welcomes it.

He's quick to jump over your body and place himself between you and monster, rage fueling him beyond every breath he takes.

The lynel jumps and reaches for its own sword now that it's been limited to one armed weapons.

Sky raises his blade skyward for another beam and watches in satisfaction as the beast fails to block it and takes the full damage.

Wild jumps into the fray and fires what he can at the lynel before turning to Sky. He takes a moment and pauses, glancing at the disembodied paw, the blood, the massively harmed lynel and eventually spots you as you lay on the forest floor.

"Get them the help they need." Sky snaps at Wild before he can question anything. "Leave this one to me."

"How did you even manage this?" Wild drops his bow and takes out a knife, cutting away the ropes that bind you.

"Holy blade."

The lynel roars again and stands to face Sky head on once more.

But it's injured before it can even try.

Legend and Hyrule come out of the woodwork and fire at it with all the magic they both can produce in a flurry of blows.

Sky can feel the beginning's of relief seep into his system and it alerts him to how tired and spent he really is- enough so that he knows that if he continues to push it, he might not be able to breath properly for a while.

But he can't bring himself to care, you're still hurt and the monster that caused it is still standing.

He can go on a little longer.

Just a little longer.

He grits his teeth and charges while the lynel is distracted, slicing across it's shoulder blade and using the momentum and purchase he finds when the blade gets caught on the bone to heave himself onto the monster's back.

The lynel can not longer stand and falls to its knees, weakened further more by Legend and Hyrule's efforts.

When Sky feels the lynel shift forward, he thrust the Master Sword in front of him and pierces it through the head, growling animalistically when he sees the blade come out the other side.

The monsters explodes in a familiar purple smoke and he braces himself as his feet hit the ground.

With a gulp, he holds his breath and runs back to you with Hyrule and Legend close by.

It appears that Wild had given you a potion (or three) and was trying to get you to slowly sit up. Arrows gone.

"Ow... My everything hurts." You sob and try to keep from moving.

Sky collapses next to you and lands harshly on his knees. "Oh thank Hylia you're alive."

"Hey Sky." You try and move your arms and eventually settle for entangling your finger into the back of your head. "Oh, ok, ouch, that's worse. What happened? What was that thing?"

"Lynel." Hyrule moves to your other side and lets his magic flow through his fingers. "The big horse like cat thing? We call them lynels. Tough to fight and to beat. They are typically to be avoided."

You sigh in relief from his healing spell and Sky narrowly avoids doing the same thing.

"I hate them." You mutter

Sky coughs up a laugh and tries to hide from the others how much he's actually spent- you need more attention right now. "We all do."

"Is it dead?"

"Sky made sure of it." Legend juts his thumb in his direction and the way you blink and look his way, makes Sky feel more bashful than he should.

"But it was huge!"

"Well Sky was pissed so safe to say it didn't matter."

"Legend." He says in warning.

"You know I'm right." Legend smirks.

"Are there still monsters?" You sit up fully now and shake some of limb free from whatever you must be feeling.

"Technically " Wild hisses. "But you're done. Hyrule, Legend, let's go get the others. Sky, make sure they don't go back in the fight."

The you're no good to fight either does not go unnoticed in Sky's eyes.

"Fine." He spits and sits a little closer to you.

The other three run off back into the forest and away from the two of you.

"I'm sorry." Sky blurts.

"For what?" You tilt your head. "You killed the thing, right?"

"Yeah but-"

"Then there's nothing else to do."

"I didn't- I wasn't fast enough." Sky bite his lip and turns his head to look the trees instead of into your eyes. "This could have been avoided entirely."

"No offence but I doubt that." You roll your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder.

Sky stiffens at the contact and chances a glance in your direction.

"I'm tired."

"Time will kill us if he finds us both asleep." Sky mutters, even if the idea is really tempting right now.

"I think we've earned it." You reply. "Time can bite me. I like... almost died... I think I should nap time compensation."

Sky wraps his arm around you before he can chicken out and tries not to think to much on your second sentence. "You sleep then. I'll keep a look out for more monsters."

"You'll protect me?"

"With my life."

Time

Time was quick to pull out his sword and shield, taking refuge behind it as the arrows rained down upon him and the group.

He saw Wild take a shot in his side and he heard Warrior curse under breath as he drew out his own weapons.

Time took a breath and charge at the first monster who was brave enough to show its face. He trusts the boys to take care of the hoard as they approach and continues to fight. Somehow, the group disperses and they're not back to back anymore.

He's not sure if it's a good or bad thing just yet.

Somewhere in the distance he hears you shout and out of concern, Time buys himself enough to look behind him by kicking the monster in front of him in the chest and sends him flying.

Time doesn't see you.

Time grits his teeth and tries to finish the beast in front of him as fast as he can because that cry... did not sound good.

Time hears a thunderous roar and feel his blood go cold.

It's not native to his time or Hyrule but he's seen one from his time on this journey, he can recognize it now, and he knows this is trouble.

A lynel.

He turns to try and find where it's coming from but there's too many lizalfos and bokoblins for him to deal with before he can go anywhere else.

His blood in pounding in his ears and it's hard for him to hear anything beside it and his own laboring breaths.

He can hear the creature arrive in the middle of battle, sees it in his periphery and he tries his hardest to disengage to go deal with the higher threat.

"HELP!"

It's you.

Time's heart plummets and he runs from his fight into your direction, hoping to get there in time.

But he doesn't know where you are and the monsters are still running rampant.

"LINK HELP ME!"

Ice is dunked over him and there no way to prepare his for the absolute terror that courses through his veins when he hears your voice nearly tear your throat apart. It's enough of a shock that he actually comes to a dead stop not willing to accept the reality of what just happened.

He's never heard you scream like that.

Not to mention that you're calling him and are crying for him to come to your rescue. He can't fail you.

He run, sprints and tackles anything that tries to get in his way. He sees the lynel throw its weapon and turns his head just in time for it make contact with you.

It wraps around you in a practiced and fluid motion and he can see one of the weight hit you in the head.

You fall and lynel runs toward you, picks you up by the rope and holds your now unconscious body up in the air like a trophy before it turns around to run away.

"NO!" Time gives chase and shoots the beast by its knees to get its attention. "GIVE THEM BACK!"

The lynel doesn't seem to be at all effected by the shots but it does turn around to see what the deal is.

Time keeps running toward it. He's not entirely sure how he's going to take this behemoth down but it has you, has hurt you and now it has to pay.

Again, not that he has any idea of how to do that.

Luckily, he's not the only one who heard your call and Wild wastes no time on jumping on top of the monster and begin attacking it from behind. Time's sure that Twilight would have something to say about that later but he'll let the cub have this one if he succeeds.

Hyrule and Legend come out of the woodwork nearly at the same time, each firing their respected types of magic at the beast.

Time's heart plummets again when they come close to hitting you.

"CAREFUL!" He shouts without any restraint in his voice.

Time is terrified for you and admittedly... he's a bit at loss at what to do.

But he refuses to stand by and do nothing.

With Wild and Legend attacking what they can, Time follows Hyrule example by taking out his sword and begins hacking away at the beast.

He trying to avoid anything having to do with your side and even slides under the beast with his blade held high, slicing the entire underside of the creature.

This one is stronger than Time remembers them being and only vaguely recalls when Wild mentioned about their colors having meaning. All he knows is that he needs to get you out of here and fast.

The window of opportunity opens just a sliver and Time forces his hands in to rip it open all the way.

The lynel refuses to let go of you even as it's fighting against the boys and trying to trample Time as he thinks.

In one solid movement he arcs his sword behind you as you swing down and he cuts the lynel's hand up to the wrist. The beast lets you go out of shock and Time dives toward you as you fall.

He catches you and rolls, crying in anguish when he gets a bruising kick to his back.

Even if he's almost certain that his back should have been broken by that kick, he rolls away from the fight even more, fighting the weights off of you to free you from the ropes.

"Are they ok?" Hyrule shouts from the sidelines.

"NO!" He shouts back without much thought, focusing more on how the blood, your blood covers almost the entirety of your back and how your hands have begun to turn a little purple.

"Head injury and circulation has been cut off from multiple limbs! Three separate arrows in their back, leg and hand." Time shouts and tosses his weapon to the side. He takes out his last fairy and uncorks the bottle, letting fly over you and begins to work on taking out the arrow while you're unconscious, only marginally hoping you won't wake in the middle of it if only to avoid the pain.

He's more than upset with himself.

Not only is your life in danger right now and he can't immediately fix the problem, but he didn't even know you got hit in the initial contact. Time begins to blame himself even if he knows it's stupid and tries to project his feels to the real culprits.

You don't appear to be waking up any time soon and Time feels an all encompassing rage descend over him.

He stands and picks up his weapon, turning to the beast as the boys are begin being flung away from it.

He moves his arm in a circle, trying to loosen up his muscles before he attacks.

He takes a breath.

And he charges.

He manages to get in the monsters blind spot and impales his blade deep with its side.

The lynel roars and turns to face him, but Time keeps his grip on his sword and is pulled in the spin instead. As the monster realizes that Time is still where he can't reach keep, it keep turning, jumping and bucking to get Time away from it but he holds on.

As the beast tires itself out, Wild comes back and fires a well aimed arrow in the lynel's eyes and it bursts into a blue cloud and out of existence.

Time growls at the lack of action and instead throws his weapon at the nearest monster that comes through. It bursts into another cloud on impact and Time finds that it still doesn't quell his absolute rage.

"Link..." He hears you groan.

Time turns around and catches you attempting to sit up with Legend's and Hyrule's help. Hyrule has his spell flowing from his fingers over your form and you blink away what confusion you can.

"Where am I? What happened?" You place your hand to the back of your head and gulp. "Is everyone ok?"

Time sighs in relief, his anger almost dissipating on sight.

"Hold on. What's your name?" Legend places a hand on your shoulder.

You answer.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Hyrule raises up three fingers.

"Se-seven." You frown and squint. "That's not right."

"No. No it's not." Hyrule sighs. "That's it for today then, right? They've got a pretty bad concussion. We need to keep them awake for a while. Arrow wounds seemed to have healed nicely though."

"Anyone have a potion?" Legend yells into the atmosphere.

"Some of us are still fighting!" Four shouts back.

"Help the others." Time says. "I'll get them out of here. I already used my fairy on them so anything else may have to wait."

"You already used a fairy?"

He nods.

"Time..." You look up at him. "Where were you?"

Your words strike him through the heart and he kneels next to you, trying not to look you in the eye and burst into tears.

"Time?"

He picks you up without another word and nods towards Hyrule and Legend.

They take the hint and run back towards whatever fighting is still happening.

"Are you ok?" You place a hand against Time's cheek. "I thought I heard you but you were really far away."

"I'm fine." Time answers, gripping you a little tighter against him.

He's not fine.

But he's gong to make this up to you. He swears it.

Four

Four was stuck in his own head when the attack happened.

He was lucky enough that he only received a quick cut to his cheek before his instincts kicked in and pulled his shield over his head.

He heard multiple people around him grunt but was immediately throw across the field by a lizalfos kick to his chest.

Four pulls his sword from behind him and wasted not time to strike back.

There was no more time or opportunity to even think as he was quickly swarmed by the hoard of monsters. Four has at least four monsters in top of him, trying to knock him down to size and keep him on the ground but Four wasn't going to go down so easily.

Wind comes up from the side and knocks two of them down from behind, giving him a quick wink as he rushes to fight against the bokoblins that have entered the scene.

Delighted by the help, Four does a spin attack to knock the other two down when he hears something that makes his blood go cold.

A roar.

A monstrous being has now entered the battlefield and Four hopes that he can help knock out the lesser monster while the others take on the lynel.

Four makes the executive decision to leave it to the more experienced of the group to take care of it. He can work on lessening the numbers so that they can concentrate on the larger one.

But then he hears something that makes his blood go cold.

"Someone help me!"

It's you.

You're panicking.

You're in trouble.

Four takes a breath and moves his head around his immediate area. He tries to calm his heart before he all but spirals into a panic so that he could properly help you.

Where are you?

"LINK HELP ME!"

What was once ice turns to stone in his veins instead before he dashes in your direction.

Forget the monsters right now.

You need help.

You called for him.

All previous thought of taking this with well calculated decisions vanishes out of the proverbial window.

Any thought of taking calmly has gone out the proverbial window.

It's just the thought of you in danger, waiting on him to rescue you.

His coarse takes him right in the path of the lynel.

He sees you, captured and held high like some victory trophy and absolutely coated in what can only be your own blood.

Four makes the downright stupid decision with all wild abandon to throw his sword as hard as he can at the monsters face.

It makes contact and sinks deep.

But it doesn't kill the creature.

When the creature doesn't let go of you either, Four is nearly shaking with the amount of restrained fury he has yet to release.

While the beast in injured, he sees Wild come up from the tree line and fire multiple shots right where his sword is, making hit after hit and the creature jumps back-

Right into Hyrule and his flaming spin attack.

Four runs toward the lynel, no longer caring for his own safety and ignoring how he doesn't have another weapon out.

The one thing he does have though is his favorite pocket knife- so he decides once again to make a very stupid choice.

Time will have an aneurysm should he ever learn about this.

Four jumps from the creature's knee when it dips down and grips onto the mane to hoist himself up. In one swift movement, even as the creature has gone blind at this point and is constantly taking damage from both other boys, Four pulls his legs up and wraps them around the arm of the beast and climb up to where it's holding you.

He grips the rope with one hand and holds his knife with the other and begin to work his way through the material.

It takes a few panicked seconds but the rope is freed.

With one end still being held by the lynel, it spins you around until you hit the ground with a dull thud. Four drops after you as soon as he sees you're freed and manages to catch you somewhat from hitting the ground at full force- even if his plan was to use his body as a pillow.

His arms wrap around you instantly and together he rolls you away from the fight and away from the lynel's trampling hooves.

He gulps when he lets go of you, taking quick inventory over your injuries.

He's quick to reach into your pocket and pull out the healing potion he knows you have and opens it. Legend runs toward the two of you with a fairy in a bottle and tosses it in Four's direction.

The lynel is still standing to the side and Legend nods to Four before activating his pegasus boots and runs to help slay the monster.

Four takes out your arrows and lets the fairy go to heal your wounds in whatever way she can. He moves over and picks up your head when the fairy moves away, placing it into his lap and opens your mouth with his thumb on your chin.

Slowly, he pours the potion, being as careful as his shaking hands will allow to not choke you with it.

He feels stunned.

You were always on top of everything.

Always coming to their aid instead and always seeming to know what to do next. It's something he's always loved about you.

But the one time you need him them, where were they?

How did he they let you get so hurt?

"Am I dead?" You groan and Four will ever deny crying when you look up at him. "Oh, hi Four... did we die?"

He snorts, it's wet a little unbecoming of him but he doesn't care. "No, but you gave it your best shot."

"Huh..." You shift and are immediately met with all the injuries that haven't been healed yet. "OH! Oh no! Not dead! Defiantly not dead! I'm in too much pain to be dead!"

"I'm sorry." Four says out of habit.

"Not your fault." You groan and roll off of him. "Is the thing dead?"

Four looks up and sees that yes, in the time that he tending to you the trio had managed to kill the lynel.

"Yes."

"Good."

Wild then runs up to you both with a very familiar sword in his hand. "This is yours I believe."

Four stands and takes it before something can happen to the resident Champion. "Thank you."

"You have quite the arm." He comments. "That went deep."

"Four's super strong." You say in your pained delirium. "Like SUPER super strong. I bet he can pick you up."

"Ok, we need to get you out of here." Wild fights the smile that threatens to appear when Four blushes..

"Please." You whimper.

Four takes pity on you and picks you up as gently as he can manage. "The others are still fighting..."

"I'll let them know where you went." Wild winks and dashes off to finish the last of the monsters.

"Four?" You gulps and try to get as comfortable as you can. "Thank you."

"Every time. I promise."

Twilight

Twilight had a suspicion that something was going to happen the minute the forest had stilled of natural sound.

He gripped his sword and held his shield at the ready just in case.

A part of him felt a little silly but he knew better than to ignore the gut feeling. It came with his heightened senses and he wasn't about to toss away hard earned lessons because of falsified paranoia.

The attack came as he knew it would and he was quick to put his shield over his head, pulling Wind under him as well to avoid the barrage of arrows. Some of the others weren’t so lucky, he knew instantly by their calls of distress but was forced to fight the minute the monsters stepped into the light. There was no way for him to check how badly the others would have been hurt except for when he would eventually pass them on the battle field.

He lost himself in the motions- muscle memory doing most of the work in his case as he took down every lizalfos and bokoblin in his path.

Then he hears it.

The mistakable roar of a lynel.

He groans at the very thought of it. With more theatrics than he’s willing to admit, Twilight cuts down the monster in front of him and makes turns around to go fight the beast, leaving the lesser monsters to be dealt with by the group.

“I’m gonna die!” He hears you scream.

His heart stops and what was once a brisk jog turns into a full out sprint in your direction.

“HELP!” Your voice picks up in intensity and Twilight urges himself to go faster, to meet you before the beast can.

Twilight jumps over a line of bushes just in time to see you run down the trail- blood already trailing down your back and dripping off of your hand.

He sees the lynel stop for a moment before releasing its weapon.

“LINK HELP ME!” 

It makes contact and it stops you in your tracks, capturing your limbs together and causing you to fall. He runs over to in tandem with the monster but he’s not fast enough to catch the lynel while in full gallop.

While a scream tears through his throat, Twilight wishes momentarily that you were sticking near Epona at the start of all this (and therefore him) instead but he gives chase without much thought in any sort of plan to save you.

With a quick whistle he calls for his horse and she comes running without any hesitation. Twilight sets himself up during the run and jumps on Epona’s back. He’s quick to move and direct her after the monster and pull out his bow in favor of his sword.

His shots cause the monster to roar once more in fury and it stops to face the upcoming opponent.

Twilight growls with just as much intensity and keep firing, urging Epona to run around the beast, in a circle to avoid any full on hits. 

The lynel takes the blows with little thought and steps back, dropping you the process and charges at Twilight.

He’s not quick enough to get out of the way and is forced to jump off of Epona less she fall on top of him and crush him.

Epona does take the brunt hit of it and does in fact fall over. Twilight gets to his feet as fast as he can and takes his sword out again. While it takes a moment to breath from colliding into another creature, Twilight asses the damage.

Epona for her part gets up and dashes quickly off to the side and away from the monster. He knows that she’s hurt but with the lynel turning around to face him, and Twilight does not miss the way the lynel glances at you in the process, he doesn’t have time to go and check on her.

Instead he jumps in front of you and swings his blade with all his might at the offending creature as it makes it way over to you.

It howls in angers and does so once more when Legend comes flying in through the foliage and blasts the beast directly in its face with his magic rod.

It gives Twilight a window of opportunity and a bit of breathing room now that the lynel has changed targets... for now.

He spins on his heel and kneels by your side, cutting into the ropes that surround you and tear them away from your body. He gulps a bit at the multitude of arrows that protrude from your flesh and he idly wonders if it was from the first attack or from the battle field.

The lynel throws Legend off  of it and Twilight turns around once more to charge at the monster, using his own momentum against it to jump on its back as he stabs as his blade as deep as he can manage into the beast. The monster roars once more and begins to buck with Twilight holding on by the hilt of his blade and the mane of its fur. 

This is a familiar sensation to Twilight and he moves his body to compensate for the added motion to stay on.

From on top of the beast, he sees Hyrule and Wild join the fray and grins as feral as he’s willing to show as back arrives.

Wild is quick to follow his lead and jumps next to him as the monster bucks and also begins to whack the beast. Twilight manages to pull his blade out and repeats his earlier motion, urging his sword with all of his strength to go deeper and do more damage.

Luckily, Hyrule has spotted you and has rushed to your aid with Legend on his heels while the lynel is being handled.

Wild chitters angrily at the fact that lynel still stands and he hops off to begin firing as many explosive arrows as he can at the beast.

Never mind that Twilight is still there.

But he’s a good shot and Twilight focuses on staying on top and keeping his blade within the monster as it jumps back and back and it eventually cornered by a small cliff side.

For one moment everything stills, from either the creature tiring itself out or from Wild running out of bomb arrows but Twilight takes the moment for what it is and once again pulls his blade out.

With one final push, he plunges it back into the monster at a higher spot and feels only marginally satiated when he see the tip peak out on the other side of the lynel’s face.

It disappears into the typical purple cloud and Twilight narrowly misses a sharp rock on the way down. Wild runs to him and gives him a hand.

“Were you trying to blow me off?” He raises an eyebrow at the younger hero as he catches his breath.

“You stayed on didn’t you?” Wild pats him on the shoulder and gives him a once over. “You’re fine.”

“They’re not.” Twilight looks in your direction and runs over.

Luckily, Epona stands over you as well, relatively unharmed except for the few scratches on her side. Twilight sighs in relief at the sight of his horse still standing tall. He’ll have to go easy on her for a few days, maybe a few weeks but she’ll just fine after some tender loving care.

You on the other hand...

You groan and finally open your eyes by the time he reaches you. “I did not do so great that time.”

“Well at least you’re not dead.” Legend rolls his eyes and helps you sit up properly.

“What happened to...” You pause and look up at Twilight, concern and horror filtering over your face. “What one earth happened to you?”

He blinks and furrows his eyebrows. 

Then he looks down.

His pants are coated in the monster’s blood and it’s traveled all the way up to his naval- but that’s not what it looks like.

“Rancher, were you pissing blood or something?” Legend stares at him in the same amount- if not than a little more- horror as you were.

“Twilight...” You start and frown, only now looking between them all with a little more clarity in your eyes. “Did that thing cut off your-”

“It’s not my blood!” He’s quick to reassure you. “Not my blood.”

“Twilight took a lot of stabs to the creatures back.” Wild answers for him. “Since he was riding it then it drips onto the pants.”

“It does look like he needs to be checked though.” Hyrule bit his lip. “Are you alright?”

“A bit winded but more or less unharmed. You?” He wipes the sweat from his brow and tries to ignore the way his pants are beginning to dry.

“More or less the same.”

“Everything hurts.” You groan and flop back onto the earth. 

Twilight smiles slightly at the sight and takes a large calming breath. You’re going to be ok.

Warrior

“LINK HELP ME!”

Warrior’s blood goes cold.

Multiple instances of fallen soldiers and allies alike flash over him a cold panic and his feet move before he even has the chance to register what he’s trying to do or where he’s even going. 

There’s a recurring mantra in his head that circles around like sirens in the dead of night. 

He can’t be late. He can’t fail. It all falls on him. He has to win. He has to save them. He can’t lose.

He’s forced to duck down in a flurry of rushing limbs and flying fabric when he nearly crashes into the monster head on.

Warrior doesn’t hesitate to raise his sword and slash the underbelly of the beast, still lost in the programming of muscle memory. He only comes back into hiself and the present when- after a few minutes of fighting this things without much damage being done to it- Wild comes from behind and fires as many arrows as he can in quick succession.

The surroundings clear up a little more and Warrior rolls out of the way to not be stomped on.

He looks up with wide eyes and forces to get back onto his feet.

He’s not back in the war. There’s no army or fallen soldiers that are gasping out their final breaths.

Until he looks up.

Warrior sucks in a breath when he finally registers your hanging form. You’re soaked in your own blood and there’s arrows sticking out of you that clearly couldn’t be dealt with at the time. Not to mention the ropes around you have been turning your hands and fingers purple.

Legend joins in the time he’s been stuck staring at you and has begun to fire as much magic as he can at the beast. “WAKE UP PRETTY BOY! WE’RE NOT DONE HERE!”

Warrior snaps back into action- the anger that dripping into his system slowly gets him worked up into a frenzy. At first he merely attacks like he would any other monster because he doesn’t want to believe that you’ve been bested by this creature. Nor the possibility that you’re injured beyond repair. But the more he attacks and the more he’s focused on trying not to injure you further- he’s hitting harder, slashing deeper and aiming for any all vitals that he can reach.

Somehow, in his rage, he’s managed to get him under the lynel and spins his blade to slice the legs as many times as he can before the beast is forced to fall from the damage.

Warrior is so lost in himself that he never noticed Hyrule arrive and successfully get you away from the lynel.

Legend breaks away to help Hyrule with getting the rope and arrows away from your body- leaving the stronger lynel with Wild and Warrior. 

While the two of them get to work their magic on healing you, Warrior notices belatedly that there’s more free space to work with when fighting so he takes advantage of that.

But he miscalculates.

In one false move that Warrior tries to duck away from, a rogue hoof comes up when the creature tries to stand again and it nicks Warrior right above his eye, sending him flying away form the beast.

Warrior ignores the blood that’s pouring into his eye and gets up nearly as quickly as he went down.

Wild for his part has noticed the change in energy and has jumped away from the lynel to settle for more ranged attacks... And to get away from Warrior...

Warrior rams his blade into the monster, tilting it upward to slice as high as he can reach into its massive neck.

The lynel has weakened to the point where lifting its limbs has become a tedious and strenuous task. 

Warrior takes advantage of this.

He does not notice Wild leave him either until the lynel disappears in a violent explosion of purple smoke.

He stands there, chest heaving and arms trembling- the weight of his rage and adrenaline leaving him stunned when the object of his aggressions is gone. He snaps his head up in a violent fashion to see Wild, Legend and Hyrule stand over you, magic pouring over them in waves.

He runs to you and has to be restrained by Wild when he nearly runs all of you over. “How are they? How bad was it?”

“Are you ok?” Hyrule asks instead, just turning in time to see Warrior coated in not only the creature blood- but having his eyebrow swollen and red- his own blood weeping down the side of his face and into his tunic and scarf.

It’s uglier than he’s ever going suspect without a mirror. 

“Are they dead?” Warrior asks again.

Hyrule turns his magic to Warrior standing up and making room for the soldier to take his place on the ground. “No, but they’re not waking up after a potion, a fairy and my magic.”

Warrior doesn’t think twice about kneeling on the dirt and takes your hand reflexively. “Do we have anything else?”

“They took a bad hit to the head, it’s all on them now.” Legend places a hand on Warrior’s shoulder and sighs.

There’s a moment of silence amongst the group, the sounds of the others fighting still nearby. “They’re going to need help. We’re not done here.”

Whatever relief Warrior might have felt at the new of your being stable is quickly dashed and once replaced by the need to rain absolute hell fire on the enemy.

“Someone needs to stay with them.” He finds himself saying.

“I will.” Hyrule gulps, letting the spell drop at last. “I think I’m tapped out my magic for a while anyway.”

“Then rest and don’t push yourself either friend.” Wild nods and runs off. “Take care.”

“Watch over them Traveler.” Warrior doesn’t look his way and grip his sword as tightly as his fists can manage. “We won’t be long.”

Legend and Hyrule share a look as Warrior runs after Wild searching the nearest monster to fall victim to his anger.

He can’t be late. He can’t fail. It all falls on him. He has to win. He has to save them. He can’t lose.

Wild

Wild growled, pushing himself up from the ground and ripping the arrow that had lodged itself into him out of his side.

He couldn’t feel it anyway- it was his scarred side.

With practiced ease, he takes out his bow and fires it at the first monster he sees. He knows that the others scatter as quickly as the monsters break through the tree line to take them down.

He searches for more numbers that aren’t being dealt with immediately. 

Not seeing any, he runs for higher ground and jumps into the biggest tree in the area, striking at the bokoblins more so than the lizalfos.

Bokoblins are the easier enemy to deal with- he tells himself. Lizalfos have obnoxious armor that can be difficult to get around- not to mention they’re smarter and faster. So the group will need to spend more of their attention on the lizards from hell than the easier enemy.

They’re annoying but Wild makes do.

But as he gets lost in the moment and the mission- he hears it.

A lynel has appeared on the battle field.

Being in the group long enough has allowed to learn that he’s only one of few that know what it is and how to deal with it.

He steels himself and jumps down from the tree- eager to get rid of the threat and help his friend through the thick of it.

“I need help! I’m gonna die!” Wild’s head snaps to the left, just barely seeing the lynel run in the same direction of your voice.

Wild’s voice gets caught in his throat and he sprints as quickly as he can after it.

It can’t get to you. There’s no way the universe would allow this to happen. He can’t let that happen.

“HELP!” He hears you cry again.

It’s once again to his left and runs toward you instead of the lynel, not even bothering to try and hide the absolute panic on his face.

“Someone help!” You yell and he’s too focused on honing in on where you are exactly to even worry about where the lynel is in comparison.

He ends up somewhere in the middle, you to his left and the lynel to his right.

He see the whole thing happen- not even registering the power level of this particular monster when he sees it.

The lynel stops and lines up its shot 

“LINK HELP ME!”

It lets go and you collapse onto the forest floor, blood slowly beginning to pool by the back of your head. He didn’t even get the chance to answer you- you’re out before you can even see him there.

But the lynel still charges forward and Wild knows he can’t let it get to you regardless.

He runs toward you- not where near as quickly as the lynel but he shoots his trusty bomb arrow at its feet before it can get to you- watching in twisted satisfaction when the monster is instead flipped over you and lands directly on its back on the other side of the clearing.

He runs to you, looking over his shoulder to see the lynel jump to its feet again, now raging at a different level than before. He takes a short sword out of the shiekah slate and cuts the ropes around you, using the bomb rune to blast the creature again when it tries to run back over to you.

The blast doesn’t send the monster very far like the first one but it still buys Wild enough time to get the last of the ropes off of you and pick you up.

Legend comes in from he side lines and fires at the beast like there’s no tomorrow. Wild’s psyche breaths a quick sigh of relief at the appearance of back up and he tries to find a decent place to put you as he goes to deal with the monster.

It’s only when he’s putting you down- hidden behind some bushes and branches, does he see your other wounds- the arrows and he almost sobs at the sight. He thought it was just the hit from the lynel but you’re losing more blood than he thinks he can keep up with. Wild takes out the fairy and unleashes her, whispering to her to check your head first while he deal with the the arrows.

He doesn’t know if she can understand him as much as the koroks do (it wasn’t a fairy from his Hyrule) but he sees that she somewhat understands. He takes care of the one through your hand first and worries about splinters for a moment before someone smacks his hand away.

“How about you go help Legend?” Hyrule doesn’t  snap but it’s not necessarily a friendly tone at the moment. “I’ll take care of them but Legend can’t fight that thing on his own.”

Wild looks up and belatedly sees Legend try to dodge the strikes of the high level lynel instead of actually hitting the monster.

Wild takes one more look at you and your blood on his hands and nods to Hyrule. He doesn’t hesitate to run toward the monster and jumps on its back as its distracted.

He holds on by its mane and takes out his frost blade freezing it in place before unleashing as many blows as he can get with his knights claymore.

Legend however, somehow misses the memo and fires his fire rod at the lynel- getting rid of the effect of his own blade.

Wild doesn’t pay too much attention to it.

He switches to his thunder blade and strikes the beast right behind its head.

The shock knocks him off of its back and he lands harshly on his own back before shooting multiple bomb arrows at the monster. Legend goes for more ranged attacks when he sees the kind of artillery that Wild is unleashing on the monster and wants no part of it.

Wild gets his shots to strike the lynel in the face, going for more blood than he thinks the lynel even has- but all he knows is that the beast has to pay.

He stays close to the lynel, using as many flurry blows as he can get it, switching between the frost blade and his thunder blade as they both charge up and as many bombs as he can get going at once for the beast to fall.

He falls into a pattern and knows the monster very well after just two minutes of this. It’s from his Hyrule and Wild feels a small part of him shrivel in guilt at something from his world coming after you.

But that just means he’ll have the honors of getting rid of it.

Despite Wild’s obvious pattern of weapon switching and bomb usage, the lynel isn’t any wiser to his moves and continuously takes the damage that Wild is giving out- not even having the chance to strike the young hero. 

Legend at some point in all of this has moved away from the battle entirely and has joined Hyrule in healing you, even if it’s only to shove a potion down your throat.

Wild gets lost in the motions, enough so that he even trips over himself and falls face first in the monster’s loot.

He grabs it out of habit before sprinting over to where he knows he hid you.

You’re just beginning to wake up.

“Link...” You call out. “Where did you go?”

Wild bite his lip and drops to his knees next to you, gripping your hand with shaking hands. He looks to Hyrule with a silent question.

“They’ll be ok.” He says in a quiet voice. “Took a bad hit to the head and the arrows could have been better but nothing vital was damaged and they should be ok with some rest and time.”

Wild nods and sighs with relief.

“Link...” You blink your eyes open and look around you. “Oh hey... Everything hurts.”

Legend snorts and crosses his arms. “It took a lot of magic to get you to this point again.”

“I’m not dead?”

“You gave it your best shot.” Hyrule shrugs with an awkward smile on his face. “But we love you too much to let you go like that.”

Wild chuckles quietly and feels the shakes travel from his hands to the rest of his body until he’s sure it looks like he’s vibrating instead. His whole nervous system is fried but you’re ok- you’re alive. Wild thinks he can cry.

“Cool. Cool. Thanks.” You sigh and rest your head against the forest floor again. “Glad I’m not dead.”

“We are too.” Wild laughs a bit louder and it’s wet and quiet but you hear it.

You smile in response.

“Wild here is especially happy about it. He pretty much took on the lynel all by himself.” Legend lets out a breath. “It was a tough one. What was wrong with t? Was it infected like the others?”

“No. Just strong.” Wild shakes his head and lets go of your hand to brush your hair gently away from your face. “It was my Hyrule- I’ve fought a few like those before.”

“Dang...”

“Lynel...” You try the word on your tongue like slow molasses flowing through a jar. “I hate them.”

“Yeah...” Wild laughs a little louder again, a little more genuine- adrenaline leaving his system and leaving him tired and drained. “We all do.”

You’re ok.

He’s ok.

It’s ok.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

somebody loves you for yourself

A/N: I have had this nicomas fic in my head and have been working on it basically since fwsa came out, and it’s finally done!! it’s like 7k of pure fluff and nico meeting the sides, enjoy! (title is from Wake Up, Sunshine by All Time Low)

Summary: On a relaxing date night with Thomas, Nico stumbles upon someone on the kitchen- someone who looked eerily like his boyfriend. Then he ends up meeting five more "Thomases," as well as finding out that there is so much of his boyfriend to love.

Warnings: flirting, kissing, hugging, cuddling, remus being remus, janus being all “we live in a society,” mentions of amazon being a not great company (lmk if anything should be added, otherwise this is pure fluff!)

-

Things had been going spectacularly well with the cute disaster gay Nico had met at the mall. Since that fateful meeting, the two had exchanged numbers, gone on more dates… and well, it had been a few months now and Nico was pretty sure that Thomas was it for him. He really couldn’t picture his future without Thomas somewhere in it. Nico wasn’t really sure what he’d do without Thomas’s infectious enthusiasm, how he could go a day without seeing the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his passions or the way pink would dust his cheeks when Nico used any term of endearment towards him… well now Nico was just waxing poetic now, wasn’t he? Sue him, he was a poet! And Thomas had irrevocably become his muse.

“I was rambling again, wasn’t I?” Thomas asked, startling Nico from his thoughts. The two of them were in Thomas’s apartment, Nico watching Thomas playing Kingdom Hearts. Well… it was more Thomas playing for a bit, then pausing the game to ramble about the lore and storyline of Kingdom Hearts. But Nico was more than content to listen and watch as Thomas gestured emphatically as he spoke. Although Nico admittedly got caught up in how Thomas’s voice was like audible sunshine, how Thomas could start literally glowing from excitement and Nico wouldn’t bat an eye… Thomas once confessed to him that he had thought Nico was radiant the first time he saw him, but Nico was pretty sure it was the other way around. Thomas was the radiant one, like a beam of sunlight that had gotten confused and taken human form.

“No, it’s okay! I like hearing you ramble, it’s cute! Although… I will admit that I might have gotten a little distracted by said cuteness and zoned out,” Nico replied with a sheepish laugh. Thomas flushed and let out a squeak, hands flapping excitedly for a moment before he covered his mouth, as if he were trying to hold back the squeak that he had already let out.

“You know I don’t know how to respond to compliments!” Thomas protested when he dropped his hands down from his mouth.

“Think of it this way, babe- if I keep giving you compliments, you’ll have more practice at responding to them! Besides, you’re unreasonably cute when you get all blushy and stimmy like this,” Nico said with a grin. Thomas squeaked again, this time opting to bury his whole face in his hands.

“This is RUDE I’m being ATTACKED!” Thomas exclaimed, voice muffled behind his hands. Nico chuckled, shaking his head at his boyfriend’s dramatics.

“Okay, okay, I’ll show mercy. I was gonna get some water soon anyway. Need anything while I’m up?” he asked. Thomas looked up from his hands then, face still flushed but looking less like he was going to melt.

“Nah, I’m fine, thanks though,” Thomas replied.

“Be right back,” Nico said, and with a kiss to Thomas’s cheek to fix the not-melting problem, Nico stood up and walked over to the kitchen. He flicked on the light, and he was still rather lost in his thoughts about Thomas that he didn’t notice the man sitting on the counter until he looked up and locked eyes with him. He was… Thomas?! Or at least, someone who looked eerily similar to Thomas. He wore a black hoodie with plaid purple patches and for a moment, Nico thought he had sparkly purple eyeshadow underneath his eyes. But then the man locked eyes with Nico and the eyeshadow was black. Nico let out a surprised yelp, the man sitting on the counter yelped back, and soon enough both of them were screaming.

“Uh… everything okay in here?” Thomas asked, frowning with concern as he walked into the kitchen. He didn’t seem perturbed by the man on the counter, and Nico looked between them incredulously.

“So… were you going to tell me you had a twin, or was I just supposed to get scared half to death by finding him sitting on the counter?!” Nico demanded, unable to keep his voice from rising with mild panic. Thomas’s mouth dropped open, and he looked at the man, then back to Nico.

“You can see him?!” Thomas gasped. Nico’s expression twisted with confusion.

“Uh… kinda hard to miss an emo version of you sitting on the counter. Thomas, who is this and why are you so shocked that I can see him?” Nico asked, glancing to the man again, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to cease to exist at that present moment. But surprisingly, the man spoke up.

“He’s surprised because I’m part of him,” he said, and he even sounded like Thomas, but his voice was rougher and deeper.

“What do you mean, ‘part of him?’” Nico asked slowly.

“This is Virgil, he’s my anxiety. And up until now… I thought I was the only one who could see him,” Thomas explained. And frankly, this clarification just left Nico even more confused.

“So… your anxiety is somehow… personified? And is a real, actual person?” Nico asked.

“He’s not… ‘real,’ in that sort of sense, I thought he was more like… a figment of my imagination, or a projection of how I was feeling, anxiety-wise? Although he and the others are able to interact with the real world sometimes…” Thomas trailed off thoughtfully.

“Wait wait wait. Back up. Others?!” Nico exclaimed. Thomas instantly looked a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I- um, well…”

“We’re his ‘sides.’ Parts of his personality, basically. There’s Logan, Patton, Roman… and a few more,” Virgil explained, fidgeting with his hoodie sleeves and eyes glued to the floor.

“Oh. Okay then… so are all of you just in his head the rest of the time? How come I haven’t seen any of you before?” Nico asked.

“We usually are in his head, yeah. But I don’t know why you haven’t seen any of us until now. Heck, me and Roman were with Thomas when he met you!” Virgil exclaimed, biting his thumb nervously after his rather panicked outburst.

“Wait, you were?” Nico asked, looking to Thomas for confirmation. Thomas smiled sheepishly, dropping his hand from the back of his neck.

“Yeah. In fact, Virgil was the one who pushed me to talk to you. And uh- I mean the ‘pushed’ part literally,” Thomas explained.

“Wait really? I just thought you were clumsy- not that being clumsy is a bad thing! Kinda endearing, actually,” Nico said, expecting the inevitable blush to travel over Thomas’s face- but what he wasn’t expecting was a squeak from Virgil and his eyeshadow turning sparkly and purple.

“I mean, to be fair I am a little clumsy sometimes,” Thomas said with a nervous laugh. Nico glanced between Virgil and Thomas, a bit of a playful smirk quirking on his lips.

“Well, whether your clumsiness is just you or your sides- I think you’re all around endearing,” Nico said, voice nearly a purr. Thomas let out a delighted little sound and flapped his hands with excitement, and Virgil outright giggled. If Nico hadn’t thought Thomas was everything to him before, he definitely thought so now with meeting one of his sides.

“Your eyeshadow turns purple and sparkly when Thomas is excited, that is adorable,” Nico cooed. Virgil let out a sound that was half giggle and half yelp, hiding his flushed face in his hands. After a few deep breaths to calm himself down, he peeked up at Nico, looking timid and insecure.

“You really think so?” Virgil asked quietly, tensing up as if he were afraid of the answer.

“I do think so. It makes sense after all… Thomas is adorable, therefore his sides are adorable too,” Nico replied with a shrug. Virgil let out an elated giggle, hands flapping excitedly- and in that moment, Nico knew that he was more than okay with Thomas having sides. It just meant there was more of him to love and appreciate.

-

Since meeting Virgil, Nico was determined to meet the rest of the sides. Thomas had explained that he could summon them whenever he wanted, but Nico insisted that they could just come to him on their own. He had felt a little bad about his first meeting with Virgil being so panic-inducing for all of them, and didn’t really want a repeat of that situation. But luckily, Nico didn’t have to wait that long to meet another one of Thomas’s sides.

Nico had been sitting at the table, idly chatting with Thomas while he was in the kitchen making dinner for the two of them. Nico had offered to help, but being the sweetheart he was, Thomas insisted that he was more than happy to handle dinner. As they were talking, one of Thomas’s sides rose up into existence. This side wore glasses, a black polo, and a tie… Nico made a mental note to tell Thomas that he looked very good dressed a bit more formally.

“Thomas, please be sure to preheat the oven for the garlic bread this time,” the formally dressed side said. Then he looked over and seemed to notice Nico, and though his expression seemed carefully maintained and neutral, Nico could see his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Hi there!” Nico said, giving a small wave. A smile crept over the side’s face for half a second, but his expression quickly turned neutral again, and he adjusted his tie nervously.

“Hello. I am Logan, Thomas’s-”

“Wait! Don’t tell me which side you are, I wanna guess! It’s kind of like a puzzle… although I guess that’s kind of weird to say about part of your boyfriend’s personality…” Nico trailed off sheepishly. Logan’s face lit up, and this time it was purely unrestrained. If Nico could get heart eyes like a cartoon character, he certainly would have in this situation. Something about seeing this serious side of Thomas so excited… it made Nico’s heart flutter.

“Do you like puzzles?” Logan asked, sounding like he was trying not to seem too hopeful.

“I love puzzles!” Nico exclaimed. A grin took over Logan’s face, and with a wave of his hand, a puzzle appeared on the kitchen table. It was a Nightmare Before Christmas one of Jack Skellington’s face being made up of various scenes and characters from the movie.

“Oh- wait, I’m not sure if you’re going to be able to-” Logan’s sentence cut off abruptly when Nico reached out and took the lid off the top of the box.

“What were you saying?” Nico asked, setting the lid down and looking up to Logan. Nico could only describe his expression as calculating, but in a warm and endearing way.

“Fascinating,” Logan murmured, gazing at Nico. He felt his face heat up slightly at the attention, but was mostly feeling a little lost.

“Logan? What’s going on, buddy?” Thomas asked, observing the two of them from the other side of the kitchen counter. Logan blinked, shaking his head and looking a little sheepish.

“Apologies. I was rather fascinated that Nico was able to touch the puzzle box. I had momentarily forgotten that I am technically imaginary, and therefore anything I would summon would be imaginary as well. However, Nico seems to be able to interact with the puzzle,” Logan explained, and frankly Nico felt like he could listen to Logan talk for ages. He was so precise and professional with the way he spoke, but there was still an undercurrent of excitement and fascination.

“Maybe you guys are becoming more real, somehow?” Nico suggested.

“Perhaps, but you seem to be the only one who can see us. There have been some close calls with Joan and some of Thomas’s other close friends, but you have been the only one who has outright interacted with us,” Logan explained. Nico hummed thoughtfully as he began sorting out the puzzle pieces. Logan sat down with him and helped sort the pieces as well, flushing slightly as their hands brushed whenever they reached for the same pieces.

“Maybe it has to do with how close to Thomas someone is?” Nico asked. A contemplative expression came over Logan’s face.

“I am not responsible for Thomas’s emotions, so I would have no way of knowing. But that is a plausible theory,” Logan replied. Nico nodded, and went back to the puzzle for a few moments, sneaking a few glances at Logan every now and then.

“Well, you confirmed that you aren’t Thomas’s emotional side, and I know you aren’t his anxiety because I already met Virgil. And you seem to like Nightmare Before Christmas, but I’m not sure if that really contributes to which side you are,” Nico said, and was surprised to see Logan flush with mild embarrassment.

“I- while your skills of deduction are admirable, my reasonings for summoning a Nightmare Before Christmas puzzle was not because I enjoy the movie, but because you seem to. If the sticker on your laptop is any evidence to go by,” Logan admitted a tad sheepishly. This time it was Nico’s turn to blush, and he placed his hand over Logan’s with a grin.

“Logan, that’s so sweet! So tell me, what do you like?” Nico asked, squeezing Logan’s hand before removing it to continue the puzzle. Logan stared at his hand for a moment or two, then blinked and shook his head.

“I- erm, I do have an- an appreciation for mysteries and detective stories,” Logan replied, stumbling over his words slightly. Nico glanced up from the puzzle to see that Logan looked a little flustered, and a small smile came to his face at the sight.

“So let’s see… not emotional, seems very factual and is on the more serious side, likes puzzles, mysteries, and detectives… my guess is that you’re Thomas’s intellectual side,” Nico said. Logan’s face broke out into a grin and his expression lit up with pride, sending butterflies fluttering through Nico’s stomach.

“Correct! Although technically speaking, my official ‘title’ of sorts is that I am Thomas’s Logic,” Logan said, voice surprisingly warm and fond.

“Well then, Mr. Logic, shall we finish this puzzle?” Nico asked with a grin. A small smile slipped onto Logan’s face.

“I think we shall, Mr. Flores.”

-

Nico and Thomas had been having what they liked to call “joint creativity days.” The two of them would hang out in Thomas’s apartment while Thomas would work on a script for a video, while Nico would work on his songs or poetry. And it was on one of these joint creativity days that Nico met another one of Thomas’s sides.

“By the prophecies of Apollo, are you writing a sonnet?!” a hushed, yet excited voice piped up beside Nico. He looked over to see one of Thomas’s sides nestled rather close to him on the couch, eyes lit up with awe as he looked at Nico’s screen. The side in question was dressed like a stereotypical prince: white tunic with gold detailing, a bright red sash- but oddly enough, no crown.

“Well… I’m trying to. My songs aren’t really going anywhere, so I decided I’d try to do some poetry. But I’m getting tripped up on the syllables,” Nico said with a sigh.

“Why restrict your wondrous writing to the syllables of a sonnet? Although I do appreciate the Bard’s work,” the princely side asked.

“I thought giving myself some guidelines would help, otherwise I’ll feel like I have too many options and I don’t end up writing anything at all,” Nico said with a sigh.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re writing much with those guidelines- but this certainly is a good start!” the side said, eyes scanning over the words again. A thoughtful expression came over the side’s face, and Nico could practically see the creative gears turning in his mind. Wait… creative? Could he be- well, Nico should probably ask the side’s name before making any guesses.

“Oh gosh, what am I doing? I didn’t even ask for your name or anything!” Nico said with a sheepish laugh. The side blinked, startling slightly as he was torn from the partially written sonnet. His face broke out into a charming grin as he sprung to his feet, got down on one knee in front of the couch and took Nico’s hand in his. Nico thought he was flustered at the side’s actions- but then he spoke and Nico was fairly sure his face was burning.

“Prince Roman at your service, my fair poet,” he murmured with a kiss to the back of Nico’s hand. Nico let out a sound he absolutely refused to call a squeak.

“Where is this suave-ness when I’m trying to flirt with Nico?!” Thomas demanded indignantly. Roman stood up with a huff.

“Virgil can be very convincing when it comes to not flirting versus flirting!” Roman squawked indignantly.

“Good point,” Thomas replied with a sigh.

“Well, whenever you are comfortable enough to do it, the suave-ness is much appreciated by me,” Nico said, only sounding slightly strangled. Roman’s face lit up, and he clapped his hands together excitedly as he bounced on the balls of his feet (the lack of crown now made sense to Nico, with how much the prince seemed to move).

“Really?!” Roman squealed.

“Of course, Prince Roman- or should I say, Thomas’s creativity and passion?” Nico guessed with a grin. Nico thought Roman looked rather joyous before, but Roman’s expression turned positively ecstatic. Nico half-expected Roman to start glowing with how enthused he looked. He all but bounded forward to sit next to Nico again and hug him tightly- and then he pressed a kiss to Nico’s cheek. Nico’s face heated up once more… and okay, fine, he squeaked. Roman drew back from him quickly, looking completely mortified.

“I have never thought about a single decision I have ever made,” Roman said, voice coming out quiet and mildly strained. Nico gave Roman a comforting smile, and took the prince’s hand and squeezed it gently. Roman’s tensed form instantly relaxed, but he still looked a little distraught.

“I don’t mind a little spontaneity, your highness,” Nico murmured, thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of Roman’s hand. A sound between a gasp and an exclamation left Roman’s lips and a delightful pink flush grew over his cheeks.

“I- Nico, you- I…” Roman rambled, seeming at a loss for words. Nico smiled warmly and leaned over to kiss Roman’s temple… and well, it looked like Roman wasn’t going to be formulating words any time soon.

“Nico! Now I’m really not going to get any work on this script done!” Thomas said with a laugh, setting his laptop aside.

“I can’t help that my boyfriend and his sides are so handsome and lovely! It makes complimenting you so easy,” Nico said, flashing Thomas a grin. Thomas squeaked, blushing just as brightly as Roman.

“This is DISTINCTLY not fair!” Roman pouted, which was frankly adorable in Nico’s humble opinion.

“You started it, dear Prince,” Nico hummed with a shrug, turning back to his sonnet. Nothing like a little mutual flirting and flustering to get the writing motivation flowing.

-

Halloween was approaching, which meant that pumpkin patches started opening up. So Nico came up with the date idea of going to a pumpkin patch and carving pumpkins afterwards. And was the main purpose of this date to wear cute fall clothes and take pictures with Thomas? Maybe. But Nico also really loved Halloween and carving pumpkins, so really it was a win-win.

Nico took pumpkin carving very seriously, so he was meticulous when it came to choosing a pumpkin. Thomas had already chosen his, and was watching on fondly while Nico pondered over the pumpkins. Nico had narrowed down his choices to two pumpkins when a voice piped up beside him.

“Having trouble picking there, pumpkin?” the voice asked, and Nico glanced over to see one of Thomas’s sides crouched beside him. Nico couldn’t think of any other way to describe this side other than a dad with an affinity for cats. He wore glasses, a blue polo, khakis, and a cat hoodie tied around his shoulders. Nico blinked at the side with mild confusion.

“Was that… a pun?” Nico asked. The side let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeahhh… not my best one. Oh hey! Can I just say that you look gord-eous today?” he said with a grin. Against his will, Nico’s face flushed and a giggle escaped his lips.

“You have a dad side?” Nico said, standing and turning towards Thomas with a laugh of disbelief. Thomas let out a sheepish laugh.

“Well, he’s technically more than that… but pretty much yeah,” Thomas replied.

“I didn’t think you or your sides could get any more adorable,” Nico said with a grin. Thomas flushed slightly, and a squeal came from the side beside Nico.

“Oh kiddo! You’re so sweet!” he cooed. Nico turned to the dad side with a slightly mischievous grin.

“Am I sweet as… pumpkin pie?” he asked. Thomas’s side giggled, while Thomas groaned at the pun.

“I’d say you’re even sweeter! My name’s Patton, by the way,” he said, holding out a hand to Nico. He looked at the offered hand, then to Patton’s face.

“Sorry Patton, but I don’t think a handshake is gonna do. Could I have a hug instead?” Nico asked. Patton’s face lit up like a child’s did on Christmas, and he pulled Nico into his arms with an elated sound. Thomas was a good hugger, Nico always felt safe and loved in his arms- but hugging Patton was that feeling times a thousand. Patton just radiated care and comfort, and Nico hadn’t really thought he needed a hug earlier, but part of him felt absolutely relieved to be hugged. One of Patton’s hands came up to gently card through Nico’s hair, and he all but purred at the touch.

“I’m not getting Patton back anytime soon, am I?” Thomas joked.

“No,” Nico replied with a slight pout, hugging Patton tighter.

“No complaints here!” Patton said, and Nico could hear his smile in his voice.

“I mean, to everyone else it probably looks like you’re hugging the air,” Thomas pointed out with a chuckle. Nico sighed, and regretfully drew away from Patton.

“That’s okay, I can always hug you later when there aren’t people around!” Patton chirped with a sunny grin. Okay, so Patton was definitely the side responsible for Thomas being like a ray of sunshine that came to life. But Nico had no clue as to what part of Thomas that made Patton. His kindness, maybe? But Nico had a feeling that Patton was more than that, that there was something more than the puns and cheerful attitude.

“I’ve gotta say Patton, you’ve got me a little stumped. Puns, sunny disposition, kindness… but I feel like there’s something more to you than that, something more specific that I can’t quite put my finger on,” Nico hummed thoughtfully.

“Do you want a hint?” Patton offered. Nico pondered this for a moment or two, then nodded.

“Sure, just don’t give it to me too easily,” he replied. Patton grinned, clapping his hands together excitedly.

“Yay! Well Nico, I just wanted to say that I am morally obligated to tell you that I heartily look forward to our next hug!” Patton exclaimed. Nico blinked in mild confusion, getting the feeling that Patton had used two puns in his hint. He pondered Patton’s sentence for a moment or two, regarding the side with a contemplative look.

“Are you… his morals? Or his heart?” Nico asked, more thinking out loud rather than settling on an answer.

“Both! Well, ‘officially’ I’m Thomas’s morality, his sense of right and wrong- but I’m his heart too!” Patton chirped.

“I knew there was something more to you than really good hugs and dad jokes,” Nico replied with a grin. Patton giggled, face flushing ever so slightly as he fiddled with the sleeves of his cat hoodie.

“Well, to be fair… I am mostly that sort of stuff,” he said, sounding a little sheepish. Nico regarded Patton with a concerned expression. Something about Patton’s demeanor… it struck Nico that perhaps the side didn’t think of himself all that highly. Maybe it was a bit of a stretch to assume, considering he had just met him, but there was insecurity in every fiber of his stance.

“Maybe, but it takes a lot of wisdom to deal with moral issues. You can be smart and silly, it’s not a dichotomy,” Nico said with a soft smile. Patton’s eyes grew wide behind his glasses, and Nico was vaguely startled to see that it looked like he was going to cry.

“Oh- I- well… well Logan’s the smart one, not me,” Patton protested, though his voice was soft and hopeful.

“Sure, Logan is logic and facts, and ‘traditional’ intelligence… but there’s a lot of different types of intelligence. You seem to lean towards emotional intelligence, which does make you smart and caring- plus you must be pretty witty to come up with puns,” Nico said, still smiling softly.

“Oh,” Patton said softly, eyes still wide and the beginnings of a smile on his face. Patton stood still for half a moment, then rushed forward to hug Nico. This hug felt completely different than the one Nico had received earlier. This time, Patton felt so small in his arms, instead of being all-encompassing comfort. Patton was the one who needed the comfort here, to know that just because he was sweet and silly, it didn’t mean he wasn’t important. Nico hugged him back tightly, reaching a hand up to run through his hair, mirroring what Patton had done with him earlier. Nico looked to Thomas over Patton’s shoulder- and was shocked to see an expression that had been eerily similar to Patton’s- disbelieving yet hopeful. Then it hit Nico- the sides’ insecurities were Thomas’s too, at least on some level. He squeezed Patton tighter and smiled at Thomas comfortingly. There was so much of Thomas to love- and Nico was determined to show Thomas that he loved every part of him.

-

Thomas and Nico were curled up on the couch, Thomas’s arm around him with his head resting on top of Nico’s. They were having a rather relaxed evening by watching The Lion King, arguably one of Nico’s favorite Disney movies (other than Nightmare Before Christmas, of course). What made this particular viewing of The Lion King so enjoyable was Thomas softly singing along to the songs and his laughter at various parts of the movie. They had gotten to “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” in the movie when Nico heard some snickering from off to the side. Nico looked over to see a mustached side with a white streak through his hair hiding behind the couch. Out of all the sides Nico had met so far, he looked the most different from Thomas. Yet something about him reminded Nico of Roman- they definitely seemed to have a similar style, as something about the side seemed regal with the elaborate black tunic and electric green sash.

“What are you giggling about?” Nico asked. The side merely cackled, wiggling excitedly behind the couch.

“You’ll seeeeeee,” he crooned. Thomas looked over to the side with an apprehensive look and sighed.

“Remus-” Thomas started, but the side (Remus?) quickly shushed him. Thomas huffed out a sigh and rolled his eyes, snuggling back into Nico. They continued watching the scene for a little while longer until Remus broke down into giggles, causing Thomas to sigh again.

“What’s so funny?” Nico asked, glancing between the television and Remus. They had gotten to the part of the song where Simba and Nala had rolled down the hill together, and Nico couldn’t quite figure out what was so amusing about that.

“Oh come on, Nala was totally asking Simba to hakuna her tatas with those bedroom eyes she was giving him,” Remus cackled. Thomas’s expression was twisted with a mixture of disgust and disappointment, while Nico couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Both Thomas and Remus looked surprised at his reaction, but Nico was too busy laughing to really wonder why.

“Hakuna her- oh my goodness how did I never think of that-” Nico said between laughs.

“And you said it would be a bad idea if I talked to Nico!” Remus scoffed with a grin.

“Cause I thought you would traumatize him, not- not whatever is happening here!” Thomas protested.

“What is happening here is that I am hilarious,” Remus shot back, his grin turning more smug than chaotic. Nico finally managed to stop laughing and catch his breath, looking to Remus with an inquisitive look.

“So you’re- what, pure chaos and humor? You also remind me of Roman in a weird way… I can’t quite puzzle you out,” Nico pondered. Remus opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by an indignant voice from the end of the couch.

“I resent that, I am NOTHING like him!” Roman exclaimed, crossing his arms and pouting slightly.

“Hey! I’m talking to Nico now, you got to meet him a few days ago!” Remus shouted back. Roman and Remus quickly devolved into childish bickering, sounding more like a pair of kids than two sides of a grown man.

“This is the first time I’ve seen your sides interact with each other, do they always bicker like this?” Nico whispered to Thomas, gaze darting between Roman and Remus as they continued to argue.

“More or less, but these two are a… special case,” Thomas muttered.

“I am quite special and spectacular, thank you,” Roman said, abandoning his argument with Remus to turn to Thomas and Nico.

“Pretty sure ‘special’ was not a compliment there, Ro-Bro,” Remus huffed. Roman let out a dramatic groan, looking to Remus his nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Why did you call me ‘Ro-Bro’, I know you have the capability to be cleverer than that,” Roman huffed.

“Well it’s true! Your name is Ro, and you’re my bro! And Thomas told me I couldn’t traumatize Nico,” Remus pouted.

“Wait, ‘bro?’ Like you guys are actually brothers?” Nico blurted, interrupting the argument before it could really begin.

“Unfortunately,” Roman huffed.

“Well I think I am an absolute delight to have as a brother,” Remus shot back, sticking out his tongue.

“More like an absolute fright!” Roman fired back.

“Awww, you called me a fright! That’s gotta be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!” Remus chirped, seeming genuinely pleased. Roman let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Please don’t scare off Thomas’s boyfriend?” Roman huffed. To Nico’s surprise, Remus flushed slightly.

“I won’t,” he muttered. Seeming satisfied, Roman sunk out, leaving Thomas and Nico with Remus. Nico turned to look at Remus who seemed… uncharacteristically sheepish. Nico hadn’t really known Remus for all that long, but something told him that he wasn’t the type of side to be particularly bashful.

“So… Remus. Roman’s your brother? Does that mean you guys have similar functions?” Nico asked with a contemplative expression. Remus squirmed semi-uncomfortably for a moment or two before huffing out a sigh.

“I guess so. Technically,” he said with a slight pout. Nico regarded him with a concerned eye. Remus seemed just as unwilling to admit that he had any similarities to Roman as Roman was unwilling to admit that he had any similarities to Remus.

“So you’re creativity too? But Thomas and Roman both said something about scaring or traumatizing me… so you’re Thomas’s darker creative thoughts?” Nico asked.

“Yup. But I’m his intrusive thoughts too. Y’know, those random little thoughts you get about how easy it would be to stab somebody while they’re helping you do the dishes and you happen to be drying a knife,” Remus replied, his strange melancholy demeanor shifting to something more malicious and chaotic as he spoke. Nico was suddenly reminded of the other day when he was helping Thomas do the dishes after dinner, and how Thomas had dropped a knife like it had burned him while he was drying it. Nico had fussed over him and asked if he was okay, and Thomas just blamed it on clumsiness. But now Nico could see that there was a bit more to Thomas lurking beneath the surface. Nico knew that Thomas would never hurt him- if the immense guilt and shame currently written over his face was anything to go by- but it did hurt Nico’s heart a bit to know that Thomas struggled with such thoughts and felt ashamed to talk about it.

“Well… just because you think such things doesn’t mean you’d ever do them, and thinking those sorts of things doesn’t make you an irredeemably bad person either. Plus it’s not a bad thing to have a darker imagination! Stories can’t be all sunshine and rainbows, sometimes you’ve gotta have a little darkness to even things out,” Nico explained in a soothing tone, relieved when both Thomas and Remus perked up.

“Really?” Remus asked in a disbelieving tone.

“Really! Trust me, I’m a poet. And poets love writing about dark stuff, just look at Edgar Allan Poe! He’s one of my inspirations, did you know that?” Nico asked, grinning when Remus’s face lit up.

“Me too! The Tell-Tale Heart is one of my favorites of his!” Remus exclaimed, beginning to chatter away about hearts beneath floorboards and birds that foretold death. Thomas muttered something about Nico providing Remus more nightmare fuel to torment him with, to which Nico happily placated him with a peck on the cheek and the promise to defend him from any nightmares.

-

On more than one occasion, some of Nico’s friends had enthusiastically recommended the show Good Omens to him. As it turned out, Thomas’s friends were also recommending the show to him. So they both figured it could be something they could experience together. Watching Good Omens had become a bit of a weekend tradition, and they were now halfway through the show. Nico was getting popcorn ready in the kitchen, while Thomas fussed over the television setup. For whatever reason, Thomas seemed to be struggling with pulling it up… no, that wasn’t quite it. Thomas seemed strangely hesitant about pulling up Amazon Prime onto his television.

“Something up, babe?” Nico asked as he carried the popcorn into the living room.

“No! No, I’m fine,” Thomas replied, a little too quickly as he queued up the show and sat down on the couch. For a brief moment, Nico could have sworn he heard a chilling laugh and a flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to follow it, there was nothing there. Shaking his head, Nico sat down beside Thomas and instantly cuddled into his side, popcorn still in hand.

“Sure doesn’t sound like you’re fine,” Nico said, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head up to meet Thomas’s eyes. He fidgeted for a moment or two before replying.

“Just saw an article the other day about Amazon, that’s all,” Thomas said with a sigh.

“Yeah, Jeff Bezos is a crummy guy, and unfortunately we live in a capitalist world where there is no such thing as ethical consumption,” Nico said, tone grim and melancholy.

“He’s right, Thomas. After all- what’s the phrase? Ah yes… ‘we live in a society,’” a voice crooned. Nico jumped, nearly spilling the popcorn in the process, and looked over to see one of Thomas’s sides seated on the far end of the couch. The side’s appearance absolutely radiated “stereotypical villain” with the bowler hat, capelet, and yellow gloves- but Nico couldn’t help but be reminded of Crowley due to the scales on half his face and the piercing yellow snake eye. And he wasn’t sure why, but something in the way the side regarded Nico made him flush ever so slightly.

“Janus…” Thomas trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he felt a headache coming on.

“Now Thomas, we could be avoiding this guilt if we had just pirated the show like I insisted. But instead, we’re kissing up to-” the side- Janus- started, but was cut off by Thomas.

“There are… good points to what each of you are saying. But like I said before, there is no ethical consumption under capitalism. If we spent our time trying to debate the moral standards of each and every piece of media we consume- well, we wouldn’t really have anything to consume. And that doesn’t mean we should outright ignore things like a company treating their workers terribly, but we shouldn’t beat ourselves up over something that isn’t in the realm of our immediate control either. Instead, what we can do is sign petitions and look into how else we can support underpaid and overworked workers. Besides, Good Omens is arguably queer, Neil Gaiman himself has made that pretty clear. We don’t get much of that,” Nico pointed out. Thomas and Janus seemed to ponder this for a moment or two, until Janus’s face broke into a sly grin that definitely had Nico blushing.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But pirating makes Virgil freak out cause what if I end up getting a virus when I download the show from a sketchy website and then all my data gets stolen, and then-” Thomas rambled, before Janus butted in.

“And Patton prattles on about how pirating is stealing, and stealing is wrong- but tell me, stealing from a corrupt company makes a right, don’t you think?” Janus said, gaze flicking to Nico for confirmation.

“I think I underestimated you, Mr. Flores,” Janus purred, and Nico’s face was absolutely burning at this point.

“And I thought Roman was handsome and charming,” Nico said in a strangled whisper, not really meaning to say what he was thinking out loud, but was glad he did when the human side of Janus’s face turned a bright red.

“I- erm. That’s- whatever,” Janus scoffed, examining his gloves in an excuse to not meet Nico’s gaze.

“Y’know, that’s impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speechless,” Thomas commented dryly. Janus merely hissed at Thomas in reply, and Nico couldn’t help but giggle.

“Well what I think is impressive is that you have a snakey crime side,” Nico said between laughs.

“Flatterer,” Janus accused, although he was absolutely preening at Nico’s comment.

“Maybe I just think my boyfriend and his sides deserve to be flattered,” Nico replied with a shrug. Thomas let out a flustered giggle, and Janus’s human side of his face was quickly turning red again.

“Well, obviously he does. I knew that,” Janus said, trying (and failing) to seem aloof.

“The flattering also includes you here, Janus,” Nico said with a chuckle.

“Really? Oh, I’m not sure about that,” he replied, smiling coyly. Nico grinned wickedly, and Thomas glanced between Nico and Janus in a mix of mild confusion and intrigue.

“Then I’m sure you’d absolutely hate to hear that I find you incredibly stunning,” Nico purred.

“Careful there, angel- lest you fall prey to the snake in the garden,” Janus replied with a grin, flashing fangs that Nico was pretty sure weren’t there before. His brain was a little too busy re-playing the way Janus had purred “angel” on loop to actually remember.

“Speaking of snakes in gardens and angels- are we ever going to get around to watching Good Omens today or not?” Thomas asked with a chuckle.

“In a minute! I haven’t figured out which one of your sides Janus is yet,” Nico protested, shaking off his flusteredness to regard Janus with a curious eye.

“Oh please, as if you could ever unravel the marvelous mystery that is-”

“Let’s see, sneaky, snarky, dramatic, cunning, wants to encourage Thomas to commit minor crimes… anything else I’m missing?” Nico asked, cutting Janus off.

“... you forgot s-s-snakey,” Janus pouted. Nico broke into giggles at the sudden shift in Janus’s demeanor.

“Right, you’re right, sorry. So… you’re his… trickery and cunning side?” Nico tried. Janus pondered his answer for a moment or two, before he broke into a pleased grin.

“Well, I do encompass those things as well, I suppose. So I’ll give it to you- but formally, I am Thomas’s Deceit,” he said, tipping his hat to Nico.

“Pleasure to meet you, Deceit. Well, with that settled, we can watch Good Omens now!” Nico said, patting the spot on the couch next to him. Janus looked surprised for a moment or two before he shook it off and his expression was back to smug indifference.

“Well, I suppose I can be tempted to stay,” Janus said, sinking out for a moment before reappearing next to Nico. After setting the popcorn on the coffee table first, Nico grabbed one of Janus’s hands to pull him into the cuddling he and Thomas were currently engaged in.

“Hey, you’re just letting him stay cause you want double the cuddles!” Thomas teased.

“What makes you say that?” Nico asked as he wrapped an arm around Janus- while more arms than were normal for a human being wrapped themselves around Nico.

“Don’t lie to a liar, darling,” Janus crooned as he snuggled himself into Nico’s chest. Thomas rolled his eyes fondly, and with his lingering guilt about Amazon aside, the three of them settled in to watch Good Omens.

-

Thomas and Nico were on a walk in a park nearby Thomas’s place, holding hands and swinging them idly between them every once and a while. Every now and then Nico would catch Thomas giving him an incredibly sappy look- but really, Nico couldn’t blame him. After all, he was sure his own expression was as equally lovestruck.

“So, have I met all of your sides yet?” Nico asked, the question meant to be casual, but he was surprised when Thomas’s face twisted with concern and mild guilt.

“Well… you’ve met all the ones I’ve met. There’s still other parts of me that I have yet to confront,” Thomas said with a sigh.

“That’s okay! Learning about yourself is an ongoing process! And to put you at ease, there isn’t a part of you that I’ve met that I don’t love,” Nico said with an unabashedly adoring smile. This admission halted Thomas in his tracks, and he looked to Nico with wide eyes.

“Really?” he asked softly.

“Really,” Nico murmured, pulling Thomas into a kiss. Thomas made an elated sound against his mouth, holding Nico close as they kissed. When the kiss broke, he didn’t go very far, leaning his forehead against Nico’s.

“I love you too, you know,” Thomas said sheepishly.

“I know,” Nico replied with a grin, then gave Thomas another quick kiss before pulling away. He grabbed Thomas’s hand again, and the two of them continued their walk, hopelessly in love with every single part of the other.

-

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[calif0rnia-lovers]

Lover of Mine #5.5 | Angel Reyes.

Series Masterlist | join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

title: For Better, or For Worse.

rating: 💙 💔

As long as you're feeling the same, I'll follow you into the flames

sum: angel fears once it's out, his secret will be the final push you need to leave. instead of confessing, he sticks out the couple's retreat to give himself a few more days with you. he makes himself a promise: he'll tell you once you two return to santo padre. but a ghost from his past pushes angel's agenda forward a few days.

words: the standard for this series....long af (that's why I break it into sections so you know where to come back to when you take a break...but seriously, please take breaks on these long ass chapters)

Ez Reyes is a smart man. There is no denying it. However, Ez never thought he would struggle to tie a tie.

He is currently outside of his father’s truck. Kneeling before his nephew, Ez concentrates as he works through the instructions he Youtube’d earlier. A usually chatty Jeyson has been silent. He slept the entire hour's drive to school. When his Uncle woke him, Jeyson shot Ez a glare that reminded him of you.

Jeyson was fine the entire weekend that you were gone, but the moment he woke up this Monday to find you had not returned his entire mood changed. He has fought Ez tooth and nail the entire morning.

Ez glances up from the tie to Jeyson. “Hey, you sure you wanna go to school today?”

“I have to go to school” Jeyson mumbles.

“Yeah, but sometimes it doesn’t hurt to take a break.” Ez offers Jeyson a smile. “If you’re not having a good day, it’s okay to stay home.”

“I don’t want to stay home with you.”

“That’s okay,” Ez chuckles. “What about Izzy?”

“I don’t want to stay home with her either.” Jeyson releases a huff before glancing down at his now fixed tie. He bends down to pick up his backpack. Slipping it onto his shoulder, Jeyson steps around his Uncle. “I want my mom to come home.”

Tommy’s gaze remains on the sleeve of his blue Stockton uniform. His fingers tug at the loose string resting against his wrist. He ignores the smirk on his older brother’s face. The passing of time has muddled the bruises on Tommy’s skin. The mixture of black and yellow stood out on the parts of him he's allowed to remain visible. No matter how he sits, the pain in his ribs is inescapable. Sleep has fallen to the way-side, the inability to get comfortable meaning he only gets it once he’s passed out from exhaustion.

“You didn’t tell me she was hot. Now I know why you were sticking up for her the other day--”

“I didn’t notice. I’m more worried about her getting me out of here.”

“Uh-huh.” Leo’s eyes roll as he watches his brother’s eyes pass over the crowded visiting center. “I’m just saying—”

“What’d you find?” Tommy’s fingers massage his temple, the irritation in his voice amplified by his brother’s antics. Lack of sleep and around-the-clock oversight and antics from Rogers has cut his fuse short. “If you didn’t find anything, you could've saved yourself a trip up here—and I could be asleep.”

“She’s not married—unless she has a habit of leaving her rings at home.”

“What? On the table?”

Leo shakes his head. “No. A jewelry box in the bedroom.”

“What about the kid?” “He has to be about eight, or nine? Name’s Jeyson. You were right, he’s definitely Angel’s. Wish I could show you the picture. He couldn’t deny that kid if he tried.”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods impatiently, motioning for him to continue. “What else?”

“Kid goes to some boujee ass prep school up north. Gilman something? Embroidered blazers, ties, the whole nine. His mom’s paying a pretty penny too, apparently, it's the best in the state. He’s into the typical shit kids are into. Star Wars, Spider-Man. Plays the piano, apparently, he’s actually really fucking good. Awards and all. His mom’s got him pretty busy. A lot of after-school activities. Looks like she and Angel rotate transportation...She must not be around right now tho.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Apart from the fact you’re still not transported to a new unit?” Leo scoffs. “The kid was with someone else when I was scouting. A girl and a kid with a prospect patch.”

“Mayans?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe his little brother...last I heard he was hemmed up here. Haven’t seen him around tho.”

“Maybe he got out?”

Tommy dismisses Leo’s suggestion. “Most cop killers don’t walk free. What else?”

“He’s not doing a good job of keeping his nephew safe. I talked to the kid.”

Tommy’s eyes open. “You did what?”

“He walked right off with me.” Leo quietly explains. He mistakes his brother’s silence as a cue to move forward with his story. “His uncle was so into his date he didn’t even notice the kid walk off with me--”

The sight of Tommy’s hand running down his face tapers the rest of Leo’s statement.

His voice comes out low, through his clenched teeth. “I didn’t tell you to touch the kid.”

“I didn’t touch the kid,” Leo’s eyes rolled. “I got him a funnel cake—” “I don’t give a fuck—” the slamming of Tommy’s fist against the table brings the room to a brief silence. The eyes that he has attracted linger on Tommy as his glare nearly burns a hole through his brother. Rogers shrugs off the wall nearby. He takes a step of warning in Tommy’s direction. “—what you did, Leo—it was stupid.”

“How else was I supposed to get him to talk to me?”

Tommy’s response comes out slowly. Each passing word increases his irritation.

“You didn’t need him to talk to you because I didn’t ask you to talk to him. Buying him a funnel cake, or whatever the fuck your grand plan was allowed the kid to see your face. He can open up his mouth and ID you—”

“ID me,” Leo snorts, dismissing Tommy’s claim. “Relax, Tommy. He’s not a state witness, he’s a kid—“

“Yeah, and according to you and his 'boujee ass prep school,' he’s a smart ass fucking kid, Leo.” Tommy lets out a long sigh. “The last thing I need is the kid opening his mouth to his mom about some random guy approaching him.”

“Don’t worry, I played it cool. Told him I was a friend of his dad. Maybe, if you had told me exactly why I went there I wouldn’t—”

It was something Tommy had explained to his brother during their last visit. The less you know, the better.

“I already told you,” Tommy rubs at his temple, the sudden throbbing causing his jaw to clench. “I needed to double-check something.”

“And that’s what I did.” Leo sighs. “What I want to know is, why the fuck you called me all the way down here to check pictures in some house.”

Tommy studies his brother for a moment. He shifts forward, his elbows settling against the table.

“You wanna know why I didn’t tell you? You don’t think, Leo. I ask you to do one thing—one fucking thing—and you almost fuck it up. If I wanted you to think I wouldn’t have told you exactly what to do.” Leo’s jaw tightens as his brother continues. “You trying to think leads to you doing dumb shit like kidnapping her fucking son—”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” Leo mumbles.

Tommy’s fingers massage his clenched fist. “You’re lucky I can’t reach across this fucking table right now.”

Leo’s gaze drops from his brothers. The look that lies in Tommy’s eyes is one he’s seen before—at least not directed at him. It’s the look that accompanied the acts that earned Tommy his nickname. Leo’s gaze nervously shifts towards Rogers who is still watching Tommy from his post.

“What do you want with her? Thinking she’s gonna give you a shot? Criminal is her type, and she’s definitely yours.”

“It’s not her I need. It’s Angel.” Tommy starts, his jaw tightening as his gaze remains on Leo. “And if you want Angel, you need her.”

“If she’s as good as you say, what do you need Angel for? You’ve been talking about her like she might actually get you off.”

Leo steals a brave glance at his brother. He watches as Tommy looks up from his tattooed knuckles.

“No matter how hard you pray, people like me and you don't come out on the right side of the law. No matter how fucking good she is, she can't get me out of this. This shit is stacked too high against me." Tommy’s gaze shifts to the clock overhead. “Did you find the necklace?”

Leo nods as Tommy stands.

“Good, go ahead and do what I asked.” Tommy pauses, his voice lowering as his gaze meets his brothers. “Nothing else, Leonardo. The time I'm looking at right now, I’ll fucking kill you right here if you pull some shit like that again.”

At some point Monday night, Angel abandoned his spot on the sofa to crawl into bed with you. His intention may have been to take one side of the bed, but to no surprise, he has failed.

You came to this revelation at two o’clock in the morning when you tried to roll over but found it to be impossible. You have been stuck on your back ever since. You attempted to fall back asleep but have not been able to.

Cheek pressed against your chest, arm wrapped around your waist, Angel hasn’t moved. He doesn’t move when your alarm goes off at 7:30 or when the knock comes on the door at 8:00.

The sleep Angel lost, the past two days over Tommy seems to have piled onto him. He only wakes when your fingers brush through his hair, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cheek.

“You have to get up and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Angel mumbles. The sunlight peeking through the curtains prompts him to burrow his face against your neck. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you smile softly. “But, I’m hungry, and I can’t get our food with you laying on top of me.”

Your words are met with a huff before Angel rolls over. Resting on his back, he watches the fan spin as you get out of bed.

His first instinct is to check his phone. He pushes himself up, his body protesting with the sudden movement, once he realizes his cellphone is not where he left it.

“Where’s my phone?”

His palms pressed against his eyes as he pushes away the enticing thought of laying back down for a few more hours of sleep.

“It kept going off,” you look up from the plate in your hand. “Ezekiel kept texting you.”

“What did he want?”

Angel watches you shrug. “I don’t know. I put it in the drawer. I tried to wake you up, but you were literally dead.”

Angel releases a sigh of relief before reaching over to open the bedside drawer. Facedown, his phone has several notifications. He ignores the rest, focusing on those from his younger brother.

2:30 a.m. 📲 : You still up?

2:35 a.m. 📲 : Talked to Bishop. Found out what the shipment was

3:00 a.m. 📲 : Pretty sure I found something else

3:02 a.m. 📲 : Don’t know if this is the guy. If it is we might have a problem

3:03 a.m. 📲: Found this in the paper

3:04 a.m. 📲 : Check it out and call me back.

The last incoming message was a photo, the front page of the Daily Imperial Gazette. Angel scans the article as you climb back into bed. A few phrases stick as he reads, “Man charged in Santo Padre murder…” “Thomas Flores, 30, has been charged…” “...obtained representation from Lorente & Rothman…” “...Friday, Flores was denied bond…”

“I have to tell you something.”

Angel instinctively hits the power button on his phone. Glancing up, he realizes you haven’t even bothered to look up at him. Your focus is on the half-eaten croissant in your hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you explain as you take another bite of your croissant. “The case Samuel gave me—the one Aiden is helping me with—it’s for this guy. His name’s Tommy Flores. He has some pretty...intense charges, so you’re probably going to hear people talking about it soon. We had court Friday, and the judge...he’s pretty tough. He denied any form of a bond, he didn’t even bother trying to set a ridiculously high one.”

You glance up to find Angel’s eyes on you. His unreadable expression causes your brow to furrow. You mistake the look in his eyes as uncertainty.

“I honestly don’t think it’s anything you have to worry about.” Offering him a smile, you lightly roll your eyes. “But I’m going to have to start working late when we get back, so I need to know that what happened Friday won’t happen again.”

You wait for Angel’s response, but it doesn’t come.

“If I take over morning drop-offs, can I count on you to pick Jeyson up after school?” You continue. “Or, do I have to ask Isabela to do it...Angel?”

Angel blinks as your fingers snap.

“Are you listening to me?” The irritation he finds as his focus shifts to you causes him to nod.

Angel nods a second time as he takes in the look of skepticism on your face.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“So, you’re good with picking Jeyson up from school?” You clarify. “Every day of the week?”

Angel unlocks his phone, nodding for the third time. “Yeah. I’ll pick him up.”

“And if you can’t,” you reach forward. You catch Angel's chin forcing him to look at you. “You call and let me know the moment you find out?”

Nodding, Angel drops his eyes the second your gaze meets his. “I gotta call Ez.”

Despite his admission, your hand doesn’t drop preventing him from getting up. For a moment, Angel thinks you’ll let it go. For once, you will ignore the feeling you get each time you notice a change in him. It is something no one else in his life can seem to do. It is something you’ve been able to do your entire life. It is something Angel wishes you couldn’t do.

“What’s wrong?”

Angel shakes his head as you release him. He keeps his eyes trained on the plate in your lap avoiding your gaze as your touch brushes through his hair. It's a habit. Angel knows the moment he meets your gaze he’ll tell you whatever is on his mind. It’s impossible not to do when he knows you can read him best that way. He picks up what’s left of your croissant and takes a bite.

You sit your plate aside before closing the distance between the two of you. Angel’s eyes lift to meet yours as you settle on his lap. The warmth of your palms finds his cheeks as you take his face in your hands.

“I’ve known you nearly my entire life, Angel. I know you don’t believe it, but I can tell when you’re lying to me. Just like I can tell when you’re upset and anxious. And when you’re going to annoy me.” The soft smile on your lips brings a weak one to his. “There’s no point in trying to act like I don’t. What’s wrong?”

“You were right about Friday night. I wasn’t with Samuel. I wasn’t even in Santo Padre.” Angel lets out a deep breath. His voice low as your fingers toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Ez and I were in Mexico. I left when you were in court. I knew we weren’t going to make it back in time, but I didn’t want to have to tell you because I knew you’d be pissed.”

“What happened to your hand?”

He watches you lift it. Your finger traces the bandage.

“Cut it on a shovel.”

Your gaze lifts to find his focus on the path your finger traces.

“...okay.”

Angel shook his head. “It’s not okay—I fucked up. Forreal this time—“

"What? On Friday?” You let out a deep breath. “Angel, I know I freaked out. Missing the recital—yeah, it was fucked up—but it is not the worse thing you’ve done.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve that.” Your eyes watch him release a tired laugh, his gaze down. "You defend me, even when you shouldn’t.”

It is true. Defending Angel has been second nature your entire life. Often you do it in response to others. But also in response to him. When you were teenagers, you learned a valuable lesson about him. Angel is his worst critic. He’ll talk himself down harsher than anyone, even those who hate him.

“It’s because I love you.” Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him into a hug. “Just because we fight and say stupid things to each other doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, Angel. If I haven’t been able to stop doing that our entire time together, I don’t know why you think a fight in a therapy session is going to be the final straw. Me not talking to you is just the easiest way for me not to say something I’ll regret later.”

Angel’s grip tightens around you as your lips press against his skin.

“At this point, there isn’t anything you can do or say that’s going to make me stop loving you.” The reassurance in your voice lifts his gaze to yours. “Okay?”

Your lips press against his in a soft kiss. You leave a second against his forehead before getting up.

“I have to take a shower,” you announce as Angel’s arm wraps around your waist guiding your body back towards his. Your fingers drift into his hair as his head rests against you. “There’s more food you should eat before we go out.”

The two of you stay that way for nearly a minute. Angel releases you as the sound of your ringing phone fills the air.

Silence from Angel Reyes is a bad sign. Such a rarity, it wrings your stomach into knots. It has been hours since you woke to find him sleeping against you. Angel has said just as little as he did in the morning. When you stepped out of the shower, you found him fully dressed and brushing his teeth.

You glance over your shoulder to find he’s standing where you last left him. Arms crossed over his chest Angel rests against the wall as far from the line as possible. With his sunglasses on, you can’t tell where he’s looking. The corner of his lips turns up into a small smile as you come to a stop before him.

“Who knew smoothies took forever to make,” he sighs as your arms wrap around his waist.

Resting your cheek against Angel's chest, you tighten your grip. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heart as his lips press against your hair.

“I want you to come somewhere with me tonight.”

“No,” Angel chuckles. You tip your head back, pouting as his gaze drops to yours.

He shakes his head as your weight shifts to your toes.

“Please,” you ask, your lips pressing a kiss against his.

“Last time I did that, you ripped me to shreds,” he laughs. “I haven’t even had time to recover from that.”

“It’ll be fun,” you promise. The second kiss you leave morphs Angel's smile into a grin. You leave a third, this one against his cheek. “I promise.”

Angel releases a long breath as you take a step back, a grin on your face.

“It better be,” he shakes his head as you quickly press a final kiss against his lips before turning to retrieve your order.

As you reach the corner, your cell phone vibrates in your back pocket. You don’t bother checking who it is. Aiden has called you three times. You had sent him a text message in response to his first three calls. Telling him to ask Isabela for help on whatever he needed.

The moment the call goes to voicemail, the vibration picks back up.

You force yourself to take a breath as Angel leads you outside.

“Hi, Aiden--”

“I know this week is supposed to be for you and Angel,” Aiden's voice comes out in a rushed whisper. “But, I need your help.”

“Where are you?” You ask as you take a sip of your smoothie. “And, why are you whispering?”

“I’m at the courthouse,” Aiden sighs. “I’ve been here all morning, and they’re giving me the run-around.”

“About what?”

“The Warden called the office this morning. You weren’t there, so I answered your desk phone. He didn’t give me many details, just that Flores was detained last night. They couldn't get him to say anything—to no surprise—but one of the guards said he was involved in an altercation with another inmate. Apparently, Tommy messed him up pretty bad—like...transported to the local hospital bad.”

Angel glances over at you as you slip out of his grip. You take a seat at the table he stops alongside.

In the short time, you’ve worked with Aiden, you’ve learned one thing. The moment he thinks there is something to panic about, Aiden will panic. So, if you sound stressed it kicks off his panicking.

Resting your face in your hand, you speak quietly. “So, he wasn't transferred on Friday as I'd requested? If he was he couldn't have gotten in a fight.”

“I know. Apparently this isn't the first one he's been in. The Warden said he looks like he’s been roughed up in the past few days. I’ve been here since first thing this morning—”

“Let me guess.” You rest back against your seat. “They told you there’s nothing they can do, with the prison being at full capacity they don’t have a cell for him?”

A brief silence falls over the receiver. Aiden’s brow furrows.

“Yeah—how'd you know?”

“That’s because it’s bullshit,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Judge Miller was hoping you’d leave and not press the issue.”

“Shit,” Aiden mumbles. “Shit, should I call Samuel—”

“God no. Aiden, I’ll tell you what to do, and say, just relax.”

“I lied to you.”

Angel glances down at you as your lips press against his knuckles. “About what?”

“About wanting to wait to get married.”

Your admission leaves Angel quiet. He opens his mouth to speak, but it closes as you place a second kiss against his skin.

You tilt your head back to find his eyes focused on the water.

“I was talking to Izzy the other day—not about getting married—but about you and...I mean...we’re trying to have another kid.” You backtrack as his gaze drifts to you. “That’s not the only reason, but I don’t want to spend another seven years playing house with you, Angel. I have tried so hard to find reasons why we should just leave each other in the past, but it’s impossible. I can’t help thinking that we’ve wasted so much time trying to fight it we should just get married.”

If he is excited by your words, Angel doesn’t show it. If he’s anxious by your words Angel doesn’t show it. The only response he gives is the furrowing of his brow as his pace slows before coming to a complete stop.

“I thought you’d be...a little happier,” you admit. The butterflies in your stomach seem to double in size as Angel's gaze focuses on your interlaced fingers.

“Right now?” Angel gently squeezes your hand, the smile slowly spreading across his lips causing you to shake your head. “A fancy place like this I’m pretty sure we could find someone to do it tonight.”

“Preferably with your son there,” you giggle as his lips press against your forehead.

“Just so you know,” Angel mumbles as he leaves a kiss against your lips. “You can’t take it back.”

“It’d be pointless,” you admit, your eyes focused on the incoming tide. “Regardless of what I say, you’re impossible to escape.”

“Like you said, it must be fate,” he teases as you step back towards the security of the shore.

“I didn’t say fate. I said I was tired of trying to outrun you.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “Okay.”

Pushing against his chest, you cause him to stumble backward making it impossible for him to avoid the incoming tide.

“Fuck—”

Angel’s scream is drowned out by the sound of your laughter. He tries to escape the chilled water but realizes it’s pointless as a second wave rolls through.

“Is it cold?” You ask the grin on your face prompting him to take a step in your direction. “Because it looked like it was cold.” The look on his face causes your laughter to return.

“You’re about to find out how cold it is.” The promise in his voice causes you to take a step back.

You catch sight of Angel’s smile before you take off running.

Between the giggles that leave you breathless and the sand between your feet, you don’t get very far before Angel’s arms wrap around you.

“I’m sorry, okay. Let me go, please?” Angel’s grip loosens as you turn to face him. “I really am sorry.”

A gasp escapes your lips as your feet leave the ground. Blood rushes to your head as Angel tosses you over your shoulder. It only takes a second for you to realize he’s turned and is carrying you back towards the water.

“Angel Ignacio Reyes put me down now!”

“Be careful what you wish for, baby girl,” Angel chuckles as he carries you into the water.

It doesn’t matter that you’re both fully clothed Angel carries you out until the water is waist-deep. He comes to a stop. Shifting you in his arms, he grins as your arms instantly wrap around his neck.

“You think this is far enough?” He asks as you take in your surroundings.

“I hate you,” you giggle as you meet his playful gaze.

“I could go further out,” he takes a step forward.

“Just do it.”

Judging by the mischievous grin on his lips, you expect him to drop you in. For whatever reason, Angel spares you a dunking. Instead, he carefully lowers you to your feet.

The chill of the water causes your grip to tighten around him. He waits until you’re standing to let go of you.

You can’t suppress the smile that finds your lips as he kisses you.

“You’re lucky you buttered me up beforehand,” he chuckles as you step around him.

He follows you back to shore watching as you glance down the beach, back towards the lights of the hotel. Your pace slows as you start in the direction of the hotel.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Despite the nod of reassurance, you force yourself to take another breath. You shake your head slightly, a tiny smile finding your lips. It takes a third breath for the feeling to pass. “I just—got lightheaded for a second.”

“Uh-huh. Funny how you get ‘lightheaded’ the second I take my shirt off. I don’t know why you still try and play this game at this point.”

Your eyes open in time to allow you the moment you need to react. Catching the shirt tossed your way, you watch Angel unzip his jeans.

"Angel put your shirt back on–I’m serious.” The warning in your voice stretches the smile on Angel’s lips. Your eyes leave him, long enough to drift back to the glow of the hotel’s lanterns still visible. The laughter and music cause you to step in his direction. “You are not getting naked on the beach! Are you trying to get us kicked out of here—”

“I wasn’t planning on going in naked,” Angel laughs. It is an admission of truth, but the sight of your panicked gaze causes a mischievous grin to take over his features. “But, I’m down to if you are—“

“No—"

“You know what?” Angel nods as he tugs his foot out of his jeans. “Your plan is better.”

“Angel—“

There’s no point throwing in a protest. Angel has fully stripped down to his briefs.

You step forward as he moves to push them down.

“I am serious, Angel. Do not do it.”

He rolls his neck before letting out a loud, and exaggerated, “fine.”

“But the only way that’s coming back on,” he nods towards the shirt in your hands before taking a step back. “You gotta join me.”

“I’m not doing this.”

Angel shoots you a look of skepticism as he takes another step towards the water.

“You’re already wet,” he chuckles. “Might as well get in.”

You remain where you are as Angel turns and makes his way into the water.

He waits until he’s waist-deep to start swimming out. He disappears out of sight as you drop his shirt to the ground. Stepping out of your flip-flops, you roll your eyes as you watch him resurface under the moonlight.

“Hurry up!” Even with the distance between the two of you, you can see Angel’s grin in your mind perfectly.

Despite your initial protest, you stay in the water for nearly an hour. Angel stands alongside you. His right-hand rests against your spine, his left interlaced with yours as your float. He watches you, his eyes admiring the moonlight against your skin as you focus on the stars above.

“I can’t remember the last time I looked at these,” you admit.

He smiles as your eyes drift shut. “Mom used to freak every time she caught us sneaking onto the roof to look at them.”

“That’s because you fell off one time. Nearly gave her a heart attack.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

You bite back a smile as Angel’s lips lightly brush against yours. They drift to the bridge of your nose as you release a soft giggle.

“Speaking of mom’s, yours came by last week.” Angel watches as the smile on your face slowly fades. “You were at work. I was taking Jeyson to school. She said she’s been calling you.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you admit. “She’s blocked.”

“I was thinking...since we’re heading back a day early, we should stop by your mom’s on the way back–”

“No.”

Angel releases a deep breath. He wasn’t naive to think you would jump at the idea. But, since seeing her, Angel couldn’t get the thought out of his mind.

“I know ya’ll don’t get along, but my mom’s not here to see Jeyson grow up. I think he should be able to know the grandparents he has left.”

“I get that, but I’m not doing it.”

Your eyes remain closed as you concentrate on the waves gently pushing against your skin.

Angel doesn’t say anything else on the subject. He knows your response will stay the same. It has for the past nine years. He also doesn’t say anything else because he knows he’s the reason you won’t budge.

The hatred your mother has for Angel may be misplaced, but she is too stubborn to admit it. She has always blamed Angel for many of your actions, starting when you were kids. Anytime you didn’t go through with what she had planned for you, Angel was to blame. You missed curfew in high school Angel was to blame. You skipped school on your birthday Angel was to blame. You didn’t attend the college she spent her entire life preparing you for Angel was to blame. You got pregnant out of wedlock Angel was to blame.

It had all came to a head at your baby shower. Angel wasn’t there, but it was the first time he’d ever seen his mother truly angry. Sure, Marisol had gotten mad at Angel countless times. But seeing how mad Marisol was as she recounted the fight she had witnessed between you and your mother, Angel was shocked.

He never asked what words were exchanged, and he didn’t have to. All he knew was that from that moment forward, everyone avoided the subject of your mother.

“I get what you’re saying, Angel,” you sigh. “But, if my mom truly wanted to get to know Jeyson she would apologize. I can’t bring our son around someone that has said the things she’s said about you. If she can say them about you, she can say them about him because Jeyson is your son.”

“Shit, I really look as bad as I feel?”

The smile on Tommy’s face grows as you look up. The heat covering your skin seems to rise as you start to speak.

“No—” You wince. “I’m sorry for staring—it’s rude.”

“It’s all good,” Tommy chuckles as he watches your eyes leave his.

He watches as you bite your lip. Whatever is on your mind, you don’t share it. Instead, your eyes linger on the bruise beneath his right eye. You’ve seen enough damage on Angel to know how bad it must have looked a few days prior.

“Hey, relax.” Tommy shifts forward in his seat, the sound of his shackles dragging across the table causing your attention to refocus. He meets your gaze. “The Doc cleared me—gave me my two Advil and sent me back to my cell. I think it’s safe to say I’m not gonna die.”

Despite the smile on his face, your head still shakes.

“Yeah, but I still feel bad that it happened. I was supposed to double-check the clearance of your paperwork.”

“Trust me, it’s not your fault,” Tommy chuckles. He watches your eyes drop to his freshly bruised knuckles. “It’s mine. The funny thing about this place is, you always run into people from your past. My mom used to said I never knew when to stop talking. I might have said the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

You watch as Tommy’s eyes briefly drift over your shoulder to where Rogers sits in the corner. His smile returns as his gaze drifts back to you.

“So, I take it you had fun.” He notes your raised brow before backtracking. “The Warden said he called your office and your boyfriend answered, said you were out of town.”

Your eyes roll. “Hey, go easy on my boyfriend. He’s the one who went to the courthouse. From what I hear, he slammed Judge Miller hard because your paperwork has been approved.”

You take in Tommy’s skepticism. You slide the signed form across the table, allowing him a better view.

“Signed by the Warden as well,” you point out. “Thanks to Aiden as soon as we’re done here, you’re being moved out of the unit.”

“No shit?” Tommy chuckles. He nods in approval as he scans the form. “I’ll be sure to thank Aiden when I see him. Guess you were right. He’s got some balls after all...Look, I know I’m not the easiest client….so um….Thanks for pushing for this. Making sure everything was straight. Most people would’ve just left me where I was.”

“Yeah, well I can’t have you die before I get fully paid.”

The laugh Tommy releases brings a smile to your lips. He settles back against his chair as you pick up your pen.

"I need you to understand that this new assignment may not be your favorite," you explain. "You're being moved to a new unit, but I can't get you moved again. That means, you can't do anything else, Tommy. Do you understand me?"

Tommy nods. He looks up as your hand finds his.

"This," your lift his hand forcing him to take in his swollen knuckles. "The shit you pulled. You're lucky they didn't throw you in AdSeg. That's 23 hours in your cell. No phone calls, no visits. Nothing. The only reason they didn't throw you in there is because they messed up, and didn't want Aiden to draw a motion against the judge. I don't care what you have to do, but you better learn to walk away from a fight. Now."

"I know." Tommy sighs as you let him go.

“Then do it. My job is already hard enough as it is. I can't have you trying to kill someone while you're already here for murder. Plus, the judge is pissed because of the paperwork Aiden had to file. That's not good for either of us. So, that means I need your help.”

His brow raises, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. “I thought I was supposed to be the one asking for help.”

“True, but help is a two-way street.”

Tommy hesitates for a moment. His eyes drop to his knuckles as he lets off a light shrug.

“What do you need?”

“For you to tell me why you were meeting with Alexander Maddox the night you were arrested.”

Tommy’s smile fades quicker than it came. His jaw tightens as he shakes his head.

You sit forward resting your elbows on the table.

“Tommy, if it’s about the MC.” Tommy’s eyes lift for a brief second. Long enough for you to catch a glimpse of the shock in his eyes. You lower your voice. “I know you’re with the Horsemen—”

Tommy shakes his head. “Look—I get you got a job to do, but—there’s just shit with the MC I can’t talk about—”

“I know how this stuff works—”

“Got a lot of personal experience with an MC?” Tommy asks.

His question causes you to release a deep breath.

“If you don’t want to tell me anything, fine. But when it comes down to it, Tommy. People will cut you off to save themselves.” The irritation in your voice lifts his gaze. “That shipment you were carrying, was not a dime bag. Your brothers will let you go down for this. Hard. They will let you rot in here for the rest of your fucking life if it means avoiding a R.I.C.O. case.”

Tommy’s brow furrows. “What’s a R.I.C.O.?”

His question throws you off. The pure confusion on his face causes you to backtrack.

“You seriously don’t know what that is?”

“I mean—I’ve heard of it...how do you know what it is?”

“It’s what you pay me for,” you remind him.

“Then I guess I’m paying you to explain it to me.”

The moment you step outside of the elevator, you come face to face with a wide-eyed Isabela.

“Is your phone dead?” She asks the irritation in her voice causing your brow to arch.

“Off—I had a client meeting with Tommy. I thought I told you—”

Isabela ignores your response, her eyes focused in the direction of your office. “Yeah, whatever. I’ve been calling you for the last freaking hour—”

“Sorry—ow.” You wince as Isabela catches your arm. She pulls you to a stop. “What?”

She releases her grip, but she sidesteps. Blocking your path, Isabela places both hands on your shoulders. She ignores the look of confusion on your face, her gaze studying yours.

“How are you?”

Her question causes you to hesitate. “...Fine...why?”

Isabela takes another moment to study your eyes as if she doesn’t fully believe you before nodding.

“Just so you know,” she sighs as she takes a step back. “I did not let her in. Aiden did. He didn’t know any better—bless his heart—”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your mother.” Isabela winces at the look on your face. “She’s in your office. Promise me you won’t make a scene.”

“It’s never me you have to worry about,” you mumble.

When you enter your office, you find your mother is not where Aiden asked her to sit and wait for you.

She is standing behind your desk studying a photo that she holds in her hands.

“Put it back.”

She jumps at the sound of your voice, her body turning so that she faces you.

“Put it back, please.”

Her eyes return to the photo of Angel seated on his bike. A grinning Jeyson is seated in front of him, clinging to the handlebars.

“He looks so much like his father.”

You cross the room. Taking the photo, you place it back in its original resting place before dropping your purse onto your desk.

“What do you want?” You ask as you watch step around your desk.

“Is that a way to greet your mother?”

“According to the last time we spoke, I don’t have one.” You recollect as you take a seat. “It’s been...nearly nine years, so my memory might be a little hazy, but I’m pretty sure that’s what you told me.” Your brow furrows as she moves to take the seat across from you. “There’s no need for you to sit. This conversation won’t last long. I have a meeting in a few minutes. What do you want?”

Your mother’s jaw tightens as she remains standing. Her eyes roll as she speaks. “I take it he didn’t pass along my message.”

“He did pass along your message, actually,” you admit. “Believe it or not, Angel said I should call you and listen to what you had to say. I just chose to do what I’ve done for the past nine years—ignore it. If you’re not going to answer my question, mom, then you can leave.”

“Your father and I want to see our grandson—”

“No.”

She expects more, but your attention has already moved on to the papers you’ve dropped onto your desk.

“See, I told you the conversation wouldn’t last long.”

“Y/N,” your mother objects. “It’s been nearly nine years.”

Your fingers interlaced as you force yourself to take a deep breath. You surprise even yourself as your voice comes out quiet and calm.

“I told you before. I do not want you near my son, and I meant it. I don’t care what excuse you’ve come here to give today. I’m not changing my mind. Your only hope is to speak with his father, and hope he’s more forgiving than I am.”

Aiden stops in the doorway, his eyes widening as he reads the room. He takes a step back but pauses as you give him a warm smile.

“Hi, Aiden! Please tell me you haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

“No,” Aiden clears his throat. His eyes briefly pass to your mother whose gaze remains on you. “I haven’t.”

“Good. Can you order two of whatever you’re having? I’ll pay. We have to go ahead and look over this case.”

Aiden nods as you add, “great. Can you also escort my mother downstairs? She’s ready to leave.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your retreat.”

Aiden’s apology breaks your concentration.

Seated on the floor of your office, Aiden has his back pressed against your desk. His usually polished appearance is disheveled. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His tie and jacket are discarded on the back of your chair.

His apology is one he has been working himself up to share for the last three hours. Each time he thought of sharing it, he’s backed out. At this point, he’s run out of pointless conversation and has reached the bottom of your takeout container that he took over.

“What are you talking about?”

Aiden’s eyes remain on the chopsticks in his hand.

“Isabela told me not to call you about Tommy,” he clears his throat. He steals a glance in your direction. “She said it should wait until you got back—but as usual—I panicked and called you. Now you’re back early--”

“Aiden, you didn’t ruin my retreat,” you sigh. Your palms rub against your tired eyes. “It was rocky was to begin with.”

The admission silences the office. Aiden nods before opening his mouth.

“So,” you smile as you lightly bump his shoulder with yours. “Please, don’t worry about it. Angel was probably happy you called so he could leave.”

Your gaze returns to the slow-paced printer. Upon learning you were coming home early, Aiden had sent you a text message.

📲: I have some stuff to show you about Tommy.

And by “some stuff” Aiden meant a board. He had stolen one of Samuel’s whiteboards from the conference room. The entire surface is covered in your notes and information from Tommy’s files.

“I can’t believe you did all this while I was gone,” you stare at the board. “Your girlfriend might think you’re spending too much time on me.”

Aiden’s smile is sheepish. “If I had one, I wouldn’t have had time to do this.”

“Well, remind me to find you one because this is amazing.” The tease causes Aiden’s smile to grow. “I’m serious, Aiden. I can’t believe you thought you couldn’t be any help.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” he shrugs, his gaze focused on the paper in his hand. “They’re all your notes, I just organized them.”

His eyes widen, a grin finding his lips as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Call it whatever you want,” you smile. “But I still get to say thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he rubs the back of his neck before glancing over at you. “We’re a team….speaking of...I found this.”

The picture he lifts is not new. It is one you’ve seen before. Your brow furrows as you take in the pregnant woman on display.

“I already know who that is,” you admit. “It’s the girlfriend of—”

“Alexander Maddox.” Aiden nods. “Right. I kept going back to your notes. You had one question. Why was Tommy meeting with Maddox in the first place?”

Your head shakes the confusion on your face prompting the rolling of Aiden’s eyes.

“How is this the answer?”

“You were asking the wrong question.” A mischievous grin slides onto his face as Aiden realizes you’re still not following his train of thought. “I can’t believe I figured something out before you—”

“Oh my goodness, Aiden—”

“When he was arrested, Tommy was carrying a shipment--”

“Yeah, something he shouldn’t have been doing by himself.”

Aiden’s brow arches. “You got a history of drug trafficking I don’t know about?”

“You’d be surprised what you pick up on this job.”

Aiden shakes his head as you motion for him to continue.

“While I was working, I kept thinking back to our conversation at the courthouse,” Aiden continues. “You said Tommy’s smart—"

“He uses people to get what he wants.”

“Exactly,” Aiden grins. He lifts the picture in his hand. “Why would Maddox meet up with someone from a rival club, in the middle of the night, with his pregnant girlfriend in tow if he was threatened by them?”

Aiden doesn’t bother answering the question. Instead, he waits for you to make the connection. The smile on his face remains as your eyes widen.

“Because he was there to make a deal.”

“Exactly!” Despite the smile on your face, Aiden’s face dampens. “...but that’s as far as I got. I don’t really know what made Tommy kill him—”

“Of course you do, Aiden.” Despite your reassurance and the confidence in your voice, Aiden’s expression hasn’t changed. “Your brain just needs a second to catch up. Maddox didn’t keep up his end of the deal. He probably tried to screw Tommy over. Not realizing that Tommy would kill him, girlfriend in tow.”

"Well, now we know why Tommy's been tight-lipped about that night. Probably doesn't want it to get out that he was skimming from the club's business."

The hug you give him brings the same response as before.

“I should help you out more often.” Aiden chuckles as you give him a squeeze.

“Careful,” you tease. “Angel’s not too fond of sharing.”

“Speaking of Angel…” Aiden’s gaze meets yours. “I know you asked me not to say anything to him about Samuel—”

“It’s okay.”

Aiden nods, but he continues. His rambling brings a soft smile to your lips.

“Yeah, but I just...I didn’t want you to think I was okay with what Samuel did.” His words come out quietly as he shakes his head. “The way he talked to you...it wasn’t right. You work harder than anyone here—including him—and for Samuel to do that was fucked up. I didn’t say anything in the meeting, and I should have. So, I just...I told Angel when he asked about it.”

“He would have found out eventually,” you laugh softly. “Besides, now Angel likes you.”

“For real?” The smile on Aiden’s face stretches into a grin as you nod.

A silence falls over the office as Aiden’s head rests against the desk. His brow furrows as your eyes fall to your hands. There is a final question on his mind. One he’s tried to find a way to raise since he started flipping through your notes on Saturday morning.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question lifts your gaze.

Aiden reaches into the pocket of his shirt. Your eyes widen as you take in the white card he produces. It is a card you spent the entire morning trying to find. The scheduled appointment one you have yet to share with Angel.

“It was in the notebook you turned over for me and Samuel to review,” Aiden explains as he passes the card over. “Don’t worry. I saw it before he did...I figured he was the last person you wanted to know.”

Your eyes focus on the date. A week and a half away. The initial scheduling may have been premature, but you couldn’t shake the feeling Angel was right.

“Uh...no—I mean, it’s too early to tell.” You turn the card over before looking up. “I should know by this date, so can you not tell anyone about this? I haven’t even told Izzy...or Angel for that matter. I don’t want to say anything until I’m a hundred percent sure.”

Aiden nods, a soft smile on his lips. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” You allow your head to rest back against the desk. “I don’t want to get Angel’s hopes up too early.”

It was the only thought you’ve had from the moment you woke up alongside Angel that moment. But as you glance back at the card in your hand, you know the truth has nothing to do with Angel. It’s not his hopes that you’re afraid of letting down.

You place the card aside, pulling your knees to your chest. Your gaze drifts to the board before you. The two of you sit in silence, eyes focused on your work. Silently willing your brains to come up with one more revelation before packing it up for the night.

"Alright," Aiden huffs. "I think we've gotten as far as we can get tonight."

HIs brow furrows, a chuckle filling the air as he fingers brush against your arm.

"Didn't take you for a tattoo person."

You glance over at him, following his gaze to the ink on your arm.

"Yeah, well, you've never been dragged to a tattoo parlor with Angel," you laugh. "Now, I try to avoid them at all cost."

"It's pretty cool," he grins, his eyes lingering on the design. "He has one too? Matching?"

"Yep," your eyes roll lightly. "Please don't tease me about teenage decisions."

"I won't," he chuckles. Aiden sits forward, lightly patting your leg before moving to collect the trash.

“Aiden?”

“Huh?” He glances up from the takeout containers in his hands.

“How long was he in Chino?”

“Tommy...uh, hold on.” Balancing the containers in his left, Aiden quickly rifles through the stacks of papers spread across the floor before him. “Says here...he was in Chino for....30 months.”

“Any way we can figure out where he was housed?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden admits as his eyes scan the wrap sheet. “His charges were nothing compared to now. Petty crime, so he wasn’t housed at maximum. Why?”

Once his question is met with silence, Aiden glances over his shoulder at you.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in his eyes slowly morphs to fear as he takes in your expression. “Did I miss something?”

“No, I did.”

“What do you mean?”

Before he can pose the question, you’re already pushing yourself to your feet.

“Go home, okay? It’s getting late—don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in the morning.”

Although you’ve managed to mask your expression, the trembling of your hands causes Aiden’s brow to furrow.

“You sure?” He objects. He quickly stands, stopping you from grabbing your keys from your desk. “I can send an email about his placement in Chino—”

“No.” Your response comes out more panicked than you want. You quickly backtrack. The reassuring smile you give Aiden not holding the weight it’s meant to. “I’ll do it in the morning. I have to go see Angel.”

“Okay.” Aiden nods. He passes over the sheet watching as you excuse yourself.

Jeyson Reyes sits at the table in the center of the clubhouse, his math homework abandoned. His attention is devoted to the bowl of skittles in front of him. He has spent that past minute carefully picking out his least favorite skittles—the yellow.

“Word on the street is you got a birthday coming up,” Angel accepts another yellow skittle before popping it in his mouth. Jeyson’s eyes widen as he briefly pauses the task at hand. Angel’s brow furrows as his eyes study his son’s face. “How old are you turning again? Five—”

“Nine!”

“Nine? Nah--that can’t be right.” Angel shakes his head as he takes in Jeyson’s broad grin. “I don’t believe you—”

“Uh-huh,” Jeyson nods, dropping another skittle into his father’s palm. “I turn nine in seventeen days.”

“Shit—”

“That’s another dollar in the swear jar,” Jeyson reminds him as he passes Angel another skittle.

“I know,” Angel chuckles. He rests back against his seat, his eyes lingering on your son as he quietly admits. “I can’t believe you’re that old.”

Jeyson’s nose scrunches. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, you are,” Angel laughs, his hand brushing against Jeyson’s hair. “You’re almost an adult.”

“I’m still a kid,” Jeyson giggles as his eyes lift to meet his father’s. “You’re old—”

“Hey—I am not old,” Angel retorts, the feigned look of offense causing your son’s giggles to increase.

Jeyson reaches over pointing towards the beard Angel’s hand passes over. “You have gray hair—lots of it.”

His father’s gaze narrows as Jeyson’s grin stretches as far as his cheeks will allow. As if to soften the blow, Jeyson drops two more skittles into Angel’s palm before eating one of his own.

Angel’s smile remains as he watches Jeyson redirect his attention back to the bowl of skittles on the table.

“Have you thought about what you want for your birthday?"

Jeyson shrugs. “Not really.”

“Not really?” Angel’s brow raises. “You’re counting down to your birthday, but you don’t know what you want?”

Jeyson lets off a second shrug, his concentration on the skittles causing Angel’s brow to furrow.

“You know we’re gonna end up getting whatever it is you want,” Angel smiles as he ruffles Jeyson’s hair. “You’ve been doing everything you’re supposed to in school.”

Despite Angel’s words, Jeyson’s gaze remains down. He chews on the inside of his cheek. The action causes his father to slide the bowl of skittles aside.

“What’s up? You don't think you can get what you want?”

Nearly a minute passes before Jeyson answers Angel’s question. His voice comes out quietly.

“I want you to stay at home.”

Angel’s brow furrows. The response is not what he’s anticipating. “I am staying at home.”

“My home, not yours.” Jeyson clarifies. “Where mom and I live.”

“That is where I’m staying.”

“You didn’t Friday. Is it because you don’t like living with us?” He asks quietly

Angel’s eyes drift shut, the tightening of his throat causing him to shake his head.

“Your mom and I—” Angel’s voice trails off as Jeyson looks up from the table to meet his gaze.

It is a conversation neither of them has breached before. One Jeyson has found himself thinking about more and more. One Angel knew he would eventually have with his son, but he hadn’t anticipated it to be now. He had also hoped you would be around to help him.

“You having two homes has nothing to do with me not wanting to live with you—or your mom. You don’t remember it, you were too little, but your mom and I...we used to fight a lot.” Angel continues. “I wasn’t nice to her, and I made her cry a lot. So I had to leave. I didn’t want to leave you or her, but I also didn’t want to hurt you or your mom. It took me a while to learn how not to do that. Friday...I couldn’t come home because I didn’t want to fight with your mom.”

“You still made her cry.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” Leaning over, Angel brushes his hand against Jeyson’s hair. His touch forces Jeyson’s eyes to meet his. “You know how you and your friends get mad at each other? Sometimes we get mad at the people we love because we don’t see things the same way. But your mom being mad at me has nothing to do with you. Okay? Just because your mom and I might fight, it doesn’t mean I’m leaving.”

The soft smile Angel offers him prompts Jeyson to give him one in return.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m staying with you and your mom or at my house. I love you. That’s not ever gonna change. Never has, never will. Got it?”

Jeyson nods, his smile growing as Angel places a kiss against his skin.

As Jeyson's attention returns to the bowl of skittles, Angel reaches into his kutte. He pulls out the white envelope that he found in the mailbox upon your return home.

He studies the unfamiliar handwriting. Printed in block letters are his name and your address. His gaze passes over the generic American Flag stamp and date pressed into the right corner. The lack of a return address causes him to flip the envelope over.

Angel waits until he comes to a stop outside of the clubhouse to give the envelope a second glance. Tearing the side, he reaches inside pulling out a single index card. The handwriting matches that printed on the envelope.

An anniversary gift for the Old Lady.

Angel tips the envelope. His stomach tightens as the chill of a silver chain hits his palm. The buzzing of his phone in his kutte pocket goes ignored. He doesn’t need to unravel the chain to know who the necklace belongs to. He has looked at the necklace nearly every day since he was eighteen.

The continued vibration of his phone forces an irritated “fuck” from Angel’s lip before he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“What?”

“This is a prepaid call from Thomas Flores, an inmate at the state correctional facility. All phone calls are subject to recording and monitoring. To decline the call, please press nine. To accept the call and all charges that will be incurred, please press one.”

Angel doesn’t remember committing the act of acceptance. A moment later, Tommy’s voice echoes through his receiver. For a man locked inside the walls of Stockton, his voice is calm and lighthearted.

“Damn, it’s been a minute since I’ve heard your voice, Reyes. Can you believe I missed it?”

“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Angel growls, his grip tightening around his phone. “How’d you get this number?”

“Come on, Reyes--give me some credit. I got it the same way I got your address,” Tommy chuckles. “I had to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary. It just passed, right? What is it six—no—seven years? Hopefully, the two of you are doing better these days—”

“Why are you calling?”

“That’s the funny thing,” Tommy sighs, the smile on his face stretches into a grin. “See, I was in my cell a few weeks back, thinking to myself—got a lot of time for that nowadays—and naturally, that led to me thinking of you. And how I missed my old cellmate. Then I remembered...you owe me a favor.”

“A favor? I don’t owe you shit--”

“That’s not how this shit works. I think the person who’s owed a debt gets to decide when it’s paid in full.” Tommy pauses, the silence from Angel’s end allowing him to continue. “Funny thing, I wouldn’t have even thought to call on you for this, but you made a simple mistake all those years ago, Angel. You talked too much...If you don’t want someone to use your Achilles, you don’t share it.” Angel’s brow furrows as Tommy’s words slowly begin to sink in. “Now, you know I’m not a religious man, but I bet you can imagine how good I felt when I realized that God, himself, dropped Y/N into my lap. What are the odds that she and I got brought together? Huh? It’d be a shame to let this God-given opportunity go to waste, don’t you think?”

“What the fuck do you want, Tommy?”

“A lot of things,” Tommy admits. “A turn with your pretty wife for starters. The way you put it, she’d do just about anything for you--”

“She’s not doing anything for you--”

“That’s okay,” Tommy chuckles. “You’ve always had my back when it came down to the wire.”

Angel’s head shakes. “No—Fuck this—I’m hanging up. I told you that night. One and done—”

“I take it you got my gift,” Tommy ignores Angel’s declaration. “And...judging by the unnecessary hostility I’m sensing in your voice, you took a trip down South recently.”

“I want what you took—”

“And you can get it back—scout’s honor.” The sincerity in Tommy’s voice would fool a stranger, but not Angel. “After you help me out one last time. For old times sake.”

“I’m not helping you do shit.”

“Damn,” Tommy sighs. “I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“And you’re gonna leave her alone. Come up with an excuse, I don’t care. You’re finding a new attorney—”

“No can do, Reyes. See, I don’t benefit by losing her.” Tommy explains. “Unless you wanna consider my proposal. Last time I’m offering. I think you’ll find my way is the easiest—for everybody involved.”

A silence falls over the line. The trembling of his hands tightening Angel’s grip on his cellphone.

“Alright, well, my time is almost up,” Tommy yawns. His eyes pass to the clock overhead. “Plus, I know it was a lot to dump on you, so I'll give you the night to mull it over. Tell your lady I said thanks for visiting me today.”

Angel’s continued silence brings a grin to Tommy’s face. His chuckle fills this receiver.

“You haven’t told her yet….Tell me, what do you think she’s gonna say when your secret gets out? Do you think she’s gonna stick around this time? If that shit gets out, you’ll be facing more than some 18-month stint in Chino, Reyes. You’ll be facing some real-time. Ask your baby brother how that shit sits with you. All it’ll take is some rumors about the location of a missing state’s witness to start swirling...evidence anonymously getting dropped into the hands of the right people...then you and I just might be sharing a cell again.”

“Trust me, you don’t want that shit to happen.”

“Maybe...maybe not...only time will tell.” Tommy sighs. The calmness of his voice is the opposite of the feeling causing Angel to force out an unsteady breath. “Do me a favor, check with your old lady on how to get on my visitation list. I think you owe me a visit, make the shit quick, Reyes. Maybe she can get them to expedite the paperwork. You got a job to do, and your clock is ticking, homie.”

There is no need for additional words to be exchanged. Tommy hangs up, leaving Angel standing at the end of the driveway. No matter how hard Angel tried to resist—or tried to appear that he was—Tommy knew the hook was set the moment the call began.

When you pull into the clubhouse lot, you find Angel standing at the base of the clubhouse steps.

His eyes meet yours as you park, but he makes no move to meet you. The question is out before you can step around the front of your car.

“Do you know Tommy Flores?”

Angel’s eyes may be on you, but his mind is somewhere else.

“What?”

“Thomas Flores. He was serving time in Chino. Longer than you—thirty months—but you were there the exact same time. Did you hear about him while you were there?” Your question is met with silence. Angel blinks. His brow furrows as he watches you cross the lot. “I know it’s a random question, but Angel it’s really important. Okay?”

It’s common for people to cross paths. Chino is not a prison. It’s smaller than Stockton. Inmates flood in and out like clockwork. That's what your mind can produce in the time it takes you to come to a stop before him.

But it’s the look in Angel’s eyes that tightens your stomach.

It’s a look you’ve only seen once in your life.

Nearly two years ago. A night you hadn't revisited in quite some time.

When Angel had shown up unannounced at your house. This was nothing new.

Only this time, the pounding on your front door had woken you, Jeyson, and nearly half the neighborhood.

Your initial assumption was that he was drunk—it wouldn’t have been the first time Angel had shown up after a few beers and a shitty hookup only to find his way back to you. Begging you to let him stay the night, swearing to plead his drunken case, only to pass out against you the moment you were seated on the sofa.

Only this time—the moment you’d gotten the door open you were crushed by his weight. Angel's grip had been tight. The pressure caused you to wince as his face burrowed against your skin.

For once, you couldn't detect alcohol--just sweat and dirt. His grip had tightened as you tried to move back and take a better look at him.

You didn't get much out of him that night. The most you could get him to do was shower. Which was for the best because, by the time you'd helped him dry off, Angel's adrenaline crashed. He’d passed out in your bed a minute later.

In the morning, he didn’t produce much of an explanation.

"Sorry if I scared you last night," he'd mumbled as he headed to the door. "I know you asked me not to show up—unannounced like that but—I just wanted to see you."

“Yeah,” Angel nods. “I knew him.”

You wait for elaboration, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Angel takes a step back. He finds a seat on the steps, his left hand reaching up to rub his eyes.

“Yeah, I knew him? What the hell does that mean? You knew of him, or you kn—”

“No, I knew—I know him.” Angel releases a sigh, his fist crumpling the envelope he holds. “He was my cellmate.”

“No, he wasn't.” The response is automatic. The laugh you release echoes across the parking lot. The meaning behind Angel’s silence doesn’t fully register. Your brain is still reeling, trying to find a rational explanation to deny his statement and what it means. You shake your head. “No, he wasn’t. That is not fucking possible—“

“Cellblock D. That’s where they house all gang-affiliated inmates. They don’t give a shit if you’re an MC or not. It’s all the same.” Angel quietly explains, his eyes watching the realization begin to sink into your features. “They put you together with guys from other places, knowing you might not have a brother to watch your back if you need protection. Tommy’s cellmate had recently been discharged. So, after intake, I took the open space—“

“Angel, stop. I can’t have you telling me this,” you cut him off. The sight of your widened eyes not deferring Angel’s train of thought. “Do you know what this means for my case? Why couldn’t you just lie to me—”

“Because what I need to tell you is worse.”

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[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 4 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo and Reader finally get a moment alone, and important conversations are had. Over dinner of course ;) 

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 4, but it’s over 10k, so hope that makes up for it lol Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 3 Tumblr Link: Here 

“Great. See you then.” 

The words ricocheted around your head like pinballs, and all you could do was stare as Dynamight turned on his heel and strode out of your ruined shop like he couldn’t stand to be there a second longer. 

“Bak—bro, c’mon!” Red Riot, or Kirishima as he insisted, called after the blond, who didn’t stop. Then the redhead turned back to you, clapping his hands in front of his face and bowing his head. “I’m so sorry about him. He can be a little…” 

“Direct?” you offered when the hero trailed off into silence for a beat to long. 

“I was gonna say he can be a little bit of a dick, but that sounds better,” Kirishima laughed, and you felt your face flush when he aimed that charming grin in your direction. 

You’d heard stories of how charismatic Red Riot was. He was a popular, mainstream favorite hero. The gossip magazines were always covered with his shirtless pictures that never failed to rile up the female population, even Mrs. Kojima and her old lady friends. 

But nothing could have prepared you for being in front of him, for having him wink and smile at you, even if you logically knew he wasn’t coming onto plain old you. He was currently wearing a dark hoodie and non-descript jeans, but you could still see the definition of his muscles through the bulky clothing, which definitely wasn’t helping matters. 

“W-Well, I’m sure you and D-Dynamight have more important places to be,” you stuttered as you averted your eyes. “I-I don’t want to keep you from any hero business.” 

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint, I’ll get out of your hair,” Kirishima chuckled as he held his hands up. 

Your face burned even hotter, if that was possible. “N-No! I mean—” 

“Just a joke.” The redhead winked at you again as he started to back up toward the front door, his boots crunching over glass and debris. “I’ll see you later, though. Oh! And, uh, make sure you’re on time tonight for Bak—Dynamight’s pick up. He really hates tardiness.” 

“Noted,” you murmured as your stomach bottomed out inside you. 

“Don’t look so terrified!” the pro hero laughed, pausing in the frame of your broken doorway. “I promise he’s not so bad once you get to know him. All bark, no bite, remember? But if he does bark at you too much, just let me know, and I’ll be sure to leash him.” 

Kirishima shot another sharp-toothed grin at you, and you strained your facial muscles to try and flash him a small smile in return. You weren’t very successful, since Red Riot’s bright expression dimmed a fraction, but thankfully he didn’t come back into the store. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he said in a more serious but reassuring tone. “We can get breakfast! I know all the great places around the agency.” 

“O-Okay.” You didn’t know what else to say. Why was this pro hero offering to take you to breakfast? Was this just because of the news? You’d seen how the media had been tearing into Dynamight the last two days, calling him reckless, arrogant. Several interviews with the other heroes who’d been on the scene didn’t help matters, either, since by their accounts, they almost had the villain handled before Dynamight stepped in. 

Maybe Red Riot was just trying to butter you up so you didn’t help with Dynamight’s crucifixion. 

What the redhead didn’t know, however, was you couldn’t say a word against the blond, even if you wanted to. 

“Okay,” Kirishima echoed and drew you out of your thoughts. The pro hero flashed you one last smile and put two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “Have a good rest of your afternoon and evening! And when you get to the agency, if you need anything, just let our PR manager Nao know. Take care!” 

With that, the redhead pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, slipped on his sunglasses, and ducked out of your store. Seconds later, he was gone. 

A beat of silence passed by, then two, and then you felt your knees give out from under you as you collapsed to the floor. Pain flared through your lower legs as you struck the hard, debris-strewn tile, but you barely registered the discomfort. Your breathing started to quicken, coming out in harsh pants, and the two paper bags in your arms crinkled with the motion. 

“Fuck,” you exhaled as tears blurred your vision, lifting a shaky hand to grasp tightly at your hair. “Fuck.” 

You’d been so stupid. Yesterday, when neither Dynamight nor the police came banging down your hotel room door, you thought maybe you were just being paranoid. That the blond pro hero hadn’t noticed anything unusual, and you could just go living your normal, unimportant life. 

Of course, the universe just had to prove you wrong. 

Because if you had any doubts before, they were gone now, evaporated under Dynamight’s hot, crimson glare. 

He knew your secret, and he was going to confront you about it. Tonight. Why else would he insist on picking you up? Alone. You’d heard Red Riot say he was patrolling this evening, so he wouldn’t be around to play buffer between you and Dynamight, which provided the perfect opportunity for an interrogation. 

But what could you do? Refuse? Dynamight didn’t seem to be the type to take the word “no” very well. Run? The expression you’d seen on his face before he left clearly told you that you wouldn’t make it very far. Besides, where would you go? Your parents were in America, and as you embarrassingly admitted to that detective the other night, you didn’t have any friends. 

And, until your apartment and shop were renovated, you didn’t have a place to sleep, and you didn’t have the spare money to live out of a hotel, so the agency was really your only option. 

Well, there was prison, too, you supposed. Maybe Dynamight was just going to pick you up and take you straight to the police station. 

He’s not going to turn you in, a small, hopeful voice inside of you said. He would have already done so if that was his goal. 

There was logic behind that sentiment, but it offered you no comfort. 

Because if Dynamight didn’t want to turn you in, what did he want from you? 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Mrs. Kojima,” you sighed for the millionth time. “I’m going to be fine. And I really can’t take all of this with me.” 

You gingerly passed the large paper bag full of glass food containers back to Tadashi, Mrs. Kojima’s teenaged grandson, who stared at the bag with the hunger only a sixteen-year-old boy could achieve. 

“Fine?” the old Japanese lady scoffed, narrowing her dark eyes at you. “You would be fine in a nice, fancy hotel, not in a building with those… those… delinquents!” 

“Delinquents?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re pro heroes. Famous pro heroes, some of the top in the country.” 

“If they’re so good, they wouldn’t have destroyed your home,” Mrs. Kojima huffed before she used her cane to nudge her grandson. “And Tadashi, give the poor girl back her food. Your face is too gaunt to be healthy, girl, and don’t think I can’t see those circles under your eyes.” 

The boy sighed as he stared longingly at the homemade food, and you could have sworn he was drooling, but he obeyed his grandmother and extended the bag to you again. 

“No, please, keep it,” you insisted as you waved your hands in front of you, taking a step back. “I-I don’t know if there will be a place to keep food in my room, and I don’t want to bother them too much.” 

“You should bother them, since they’ve been such a bother to you,” the old lady said as she nudged you this time with her cane. “You are too nice. I always say this. You need to be more selfish.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled. “But thank you for thinking of me, Mrs. Kojima. It was very kind for you and Tadashi to come see me off.” 

“How many times must I tell you to call me Ayano?” the elderly woman groused, tapping your shin with her cane again. “And of course we came. I wasn’t going to let you stand alone on a dark street and wait for that monster of a man.” 

“Grandma!” Tadashi gasped as he looked up from salivating into the bag of food. “Dynamight is the number two hero! He’s not a monster, he’s the coolest!” 

“I’ve seen him on TV,” his grandmother sniffed. “Always yelling and swearing. And Mr. Takeyoshi said he was very rude the other night. Not to mention all the damage he caused! Nothing but a foul-mouthed delinquent.” 

“Grandmaaaaa,” Tadashi whined. 

You sided more with Mrs. Kojima on this one, but the absolute adoration on the boy’s face made a small smile tug at your lips. 

But your amusement quickly faded as you glanced down at your phone again. 

6:58. 

Said foul-mouthed delinquent should be here any minute. 

As if your thoughts summoned him, the squeal of tires suddenly echoed through the otherwise quiet twilight, and you turned—with a pit in your stomach—to face the intersection down the road. Your street had been blocked off by barricades since the asphalt was still missing in patches, so the sleek, black car that had just pulled up was forced to park on the corner and put on its hazards. 

Your heart was hammering beneath your sternum, beating out a frantic, hummingbird rhythm, and you watched the car door get flung open, a lithe figure ducking out a moment later. The last rays of fading sunlight glinted off his ash blond hair before he pulled up his hood, but then he was looking in your direction, and even if he was too far to see the details of his face, you felt the instant his eyes locked onto you. 

“Holy shit, is that him?” Tadashi asked behind you, followed by a yelp as his grandmother smacked him with her cane. 

“Language,” she hissed, but the rest of her sentence was drowned out by the blood roaring through your ears as Dynamight started to walk toward you. 

No, not walk. Stalk. He looked like a predator slinking down the sidewalk, dressed in black and skimming through the shadows. There were a few people milling about the street, your neighbors who were still trying to clean up, but the pro hero paid them no mind. His gaze was still zeroed in on you, and your breath grew more shallow with each step he took. 

Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, you chanted in your head. And smile! Try not to look like he’s your executioner. 

You plastered on a smile, but it felt jagged like the broken street you stood on, your cheeks aching from the strain. 

Finally, after what felt like a blink and an eternity simultaneously, Dynamight came to a stop about ten feet away from you on the sidewalk. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, his face was a cold mask on the tipping point of a scowl, and his eyes felt like red-hot embers burning into your face. 

“At least you know how to be punctual,” he said without preamble, his voice as sharp as his scarlet gaze. 

You heard Mrs. Kojima gasp behind you, followed by Tadashi frantically trying to shush her under his breath, so you cut the old lady off before she could say what was on her mind. 

“T-Thank you for taking the time to escort me to the agency, Dynamight,” you said, bowing at the waist so you could get a moment’s reprieve from those red eyes. “It’s… very kind of you, since I know you must be busy with your hero duties.” 

Mrs. Kojima harumphed behind you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself before you straightened up. 

Dynamight’s crimson gaze had lost none of its intensity, but he finally seemed to notice Tadashi and his grandmother over your shoulder, and when he spoke, he’s tone was a fraction of a degree softer. 

“Yeah, well… it’s the least the agency can do,” he said evenly, like he’d memorized a script. 

You wondered if Kirishima had said something to him after they left. Or maybe the PR manager the red-haired hero had mentioned? 

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, and you winced. 

“Sorry, this is Mrs. Kojima and her grandson, Tadashi,” you said, motioning to them. “They’re some of my customers who just wanted to see me off.” 

“Customers,” Dynamight echoed as his red eyes raked over the pair. “For your stitching shop?” 

Something about his tone seemed off, but you couldn’t place it. 

“Alterations shop,” you corrected with a frown. “But yes.” 

“Is that all?” he asked as his eyes locked with yours, and you felt your insides liquify. 

Fuck. There was no way he could know that Mrs. Kojima and Tadashi had been “patients” of yours before. Right? Even if he knew about your quirk, that was a leap to make. 

Then again, it did sound kind of weird for two random customers to take an interest in their seamstress’ personal life. You’d set yourself up for that one. 

You opened your mouth, ready to clumsily explain, but Mrs. Kojima beat you to it. 

“I knew her grandparents long before you were a thought in your daddy’s brain boy,” the old lady huffed as she hobbled forward to stand beside you, Tadashi stumbling after her. “So I check on her from time to time, especially when she’s meeting and going off with some no-good delinquent at night. Is that alright with you?” 

“Mrs. Kojima—” you started as your eyes widened. 

“Grandma!” Tadashi hissed, his face flushing with mortification. 

Dynamight, for his part, actually smirked at the old lady’s attitude, amusement dancing in his red eyes as he finally shifted them off you. 

“Well, Stitches here is gonna be fine,” he said with a sharp smile. “She’ll be staying in our finest suite, being waited on hand and foot for the next few weeks.” 

Stitches? What the hell was that? Did he forget your name? 

“Is that so?” Mrs. Kojima narrowed her dark eyes on the blond, and her expression said she didn’t trust the pro hero as far as she could throw him. 

“Lucky,” Tadashi muttered under his breath. 

“If you don’t believe me, you can call her tomorrow and check for yourself,” Dynamight said before he turned to face you completely, effectively cutting off any rebuttal from the Kojimas. “Are you ready? It’s cold, and the car’s running.” 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, shifting the strap of your duffle bag higher up on your shoulder. “J-Just a second.” 

You turned back to Mrs. Kojima, who was blatantly glaring daggers at Dynamight, but her expression softened as she shuffled in to hug you. 

“Watch out for him,” she whispered in your ear. “And take care of yourself. If something’s wrong, call me, no matter what. You can stay with me, okay?” 

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” you murmured as you pulled away. “I’ll call you when I know more about the shop’s repairs. Tadashi, take care of your grandma for me.” 

“Bah!” Mrs. Kojima scoffed, shooing you back with her cane. “I can take care of myself.” 

“I know.” You smiled as you grabbed the handle of your small rolling suitcase beside you. “Have a good night.” 

You turned back to Dynamight to find him suddenly beside you, the scent of burnt sugar enveloping you a moment later. You inhaled so fast it whistled through your teeth, but the pro hero didn’t even look at you as he slipped his finger through your duffle bag’s strap and pulled it off your shoulder. He slung it on his back in one fluid movement, and then he was reaching for your suitcase, too. 

“I-I got this one!” you said, a little too loudly, as you stumbled back a step and dragged the suitcase with you. “Thank you, but, um, I’ve got it.” 

Dynamight pursed his lips at you, his eyes narrowing into crimson slits, but then his gaze jumped over your shoulder. 

“Got something you want to say, kid?” he grunted, and he looked a little ridiculous with your pink and purple patterned duffle peeking out from over his shoulder. 

“M-Me?” Tadashi gaped and glanced around quickly like there was anyone else within half a block, but when he realized Dynamight was still staring at him expectantly, the boy began to ramble. “I-I just, uh, I just wanted to say I think you’re the coolest hero there is. Even more than Deku! Man, I wish I could have seen the fight the other night. You probably wiped the floor with that villain! When I grow up, I hope I’m a hero half as cool as you.” 

Dynamight actually seemed surprised by the boy’s adoring word vomit. The blond blinked as the suspicion and defensiveness drained from his face and posture, and then an easy smirk stretched across his lips. 

“You got a quirk, kid?” he asked. 

Mrs. Kojima made a face beside you like she was going to cut in, but you put a hand on her arm and gestured to Tadashi’s beaming face, and the old lady sighed and relented. She knew what this meant for her grandson. 

“Yeah, I do!” Tadashi grinned and puffed out his chest before he shifted the bag of food in his grasp and held out his right hand. His brow buckled in concentration, but a moment later a flame exploded to life in his palm. The flame grew, flickering upwards as it twisted and twined, changing shape as it went. In the blink of an eye, the teenager held the hilt of a fiery dagger, which he twirled around his knuckles. “I can make different objects with flames, and they act solid when I concentrate hard enough.” 

“That’s a pretty cool power,” Dynamight said as he eyed the flaming blade. “Bet you kick ass in your hero course.” 

“I-I do alright,” Tadashi said as he extinguished the dagger, trying to go for a nonchalant shrug, but the effect was ruined by his mile-wide grin and heart eyes. “You really think it’s cool?” 

“It’s only cool if you’re the best, so don’t slack off,” the blond scoffed. “Only losers half-ass their way through school.” 

Mrs. Kojima’s face was silently scandalized, but Tadashi’s grew determined. 

“Yes, sir!” the boy said as he bowed at the waist. “I’ll work hard to be the best of the best.” 

“Good.” Dynamight smirked. “Then, when you graduate, you can come prove how strong you are by taking me on. Who knows? If you’re actually strong, we might hire a new side-kick.” 

Tadashi looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head as he straightened up, but the pro hero only snickered as he spun on heel and began to stride away. 

“You comin’, Stitches?” he called over his shoulder. 

“C-Coming!” you called back before you flashed the Kojimas one last smile. “Have a good night and be safe going home!” 

Then you took off down the sidewalk, your rolling suitcase clattering over the broken concrete behind you. 

Dynamight’s legs were twice as long as yours and quickly ate up the distance to his car still parked on the corner, and you only caught up to him as he was tossing your duffle in the trunk. 

You stood on the curb panting for a moment, just staring at him, and then the blond looked up and caught your eye. 

“What?” he grunted. 

“N-Nothing.” You cleared your throat and moved to pick up your suitcase, but he beat you to it, bending down and hefting the thing up in one fluid movement. The trunk slammed shut with a resounding thud, and the two of you were left staring at each other in silence. 

“Get in,” Dynamight finally said, jerking his chin at the passenger door. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, yanked open the door, and slid inside without another word. 

You could still feel the Kojimas’ eyes on your back, and you didn’t want to give them cause to worry, so you took a deep breath and got into the car. 

Even though your heart was trying to break free of your ribcage. 

The car itself was sleek and fancy, both inside and out. The seats were a supple red leather with ebony stitching, the dashboard shiny and inlaid with the newest gadgets, and you curled into the seat, afraid to even touch anything. This car was probably worth more money than you’d ever made in your entire life, and you had worked odd jobs since you were sixteen. 

The engine rumbled to life as Dynamight cranked the ignition, warm air blasting out of the vents and thawing your red nose and cheeks. The dash said it was only eighteen degrees Celsius, but the wind had been brisk. 

“Seatbelt,” the pro hero said as he yanked his own across his thick chest. 

You swallowed tightly before you did as you were bidden, and the second you were secured, the blond was throwing the car in gear and peeling away from the curb. Your barricaded street disappeared in a blur, and suddenly you were on your way. 

With Dynamight. Alone. In his car. 

The luxurious interior of the vehicle began to close in on you, feeling more like the walls of a coffin, and you braced yourself for Dynamight’s interrogation. 

Except… it never came. 

Minutes passed by in silence, and all the while, the blond’s red eyes stayed focused on the road ahead. One of his hands casually gripped the steering wheel, the other wrapped around the gear shift, and every one of the hero’s movements was fluid, precise. 

You tried not to, but you couldn’t help but study him out of the corner of your eye. His blank face gave nothing away, and neither did his slumped body language. He was covered in a dark hoodie and jeans again, so you couldn’t see much skin besides his hands and neck, but he looked… fine. 

One would have never guessed that he nearly bled to death beneath your hands two days ago. 

The memory of his blood, warm and tacky on your skin, made you clench your hands in your lap, and when you glanced over at the blond again, you nearly jumped out of your seat when you met red eyes. 

“Now you got somethin’ you want to say, Stitches?” he asked as he shifted gears, smoothly pulling around another car. 

“M-My name’s not Stitches,” you replied without thinking, but maybe this was a good thing. Thinking always got you in trouble. 

“Yeah, no shit,” the blond snorted, darting a quick look at you again before turning back to the road. “But you keep starin’ at me, so spit it out.” 

You fumbled for something to say, still thinking of his ashen face splattered with blood. “T-That was nice, what you said back there to Tadashi. He, um, really idolizes you, so you probably made his whole year.” 

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he looked in the rearview mirror. “Chances are, kid probably won’t end up as much.” 

You frowned. “But you said—” 

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, eyes meeting yours again. “And I meant it. Slacking off is for losers. Still, the brat will probably end up as a B-lister at most, more likely just an extra. That’s just the damn odds.” 

His words were harsh, but you knew they were true. There was no shortage of people signing up to be “heroes” in the world, but very few actually achieved the fame and notoriety of, say, All Might. Even years after his retirement, the Old Symbol of Peace was still talked about. 

“Well… thank you for not saying that to Tadashi,” you murmured as you averted your eyes out the window. 

“Someone will have to eventually,” Dynamight grunted. “But, if he proves me wrong, then he might actually have some potential.” 

“Mmm,” you hummed noncommittally. You didn’t want to talk about Tadashi anymore. Hell, you didn’t want to talk about anything. 

But you knew it was coming. You could feel the pro hero building up to it, the air in the car becoming more tense and charged by the second, like the calm before the storm. 

Part of you wished Dynamight would just rip the bandaid off already. 

The other part of you wondered if you would survive opening the car door and jumping from the moving vehicle, but at the speed the blond was driving, chances were slim. 

You were just thinking to pull out your phone and subtly look at the agency on the map to see how far away you were, but then Dynamight cleared his throat, and you felt all the saliva dry up in your mouth. 

This was it. 

“So,” the pro hero started as he pulled up to a stoplight, and his eyes found yours again. The red light reflected off his face and made it hard to tell where his irises began, everything washed out in crimson. 

But before he could get another word out, a loud growl split the interior of the car. 

Dynamight blinked at you before his gaze fell to your stomach, and you felt your face flare with heat. 

“Sorry,” you muttered as you clenched your abdomen, trying to shut it up, but it only growled louder in defiance. “I, um, forgot to eat dinner since I was busy packing.” 

And because your stomach had been in knots all day, but you didn’t need to tell him that. 

“Wasn’t that kid holding a whole bag of food back there?” Dynamight asked, frowning at you. 

“Y-Yeah.” You blushed even harder. Nothing escaped the pro’s notice, did it? “Mrs. Kojima had brought some stuff, but I didn’t know if there would be a place to store it in, um, whatever room I’m staying in. Plus, Tadashi is always hungry because of his hero course training, so it’s not like any of it will go to waste.” 

“You’ll starve yourself so some brat can stuff extras in his face?” the blond scoffed, and he looked at you like you were speaking another language. 

“I won’t starve,” you argued, a nervous laugh huffing out of you. “I-It’s one meal, and I ate a big lunch.” 

That was a lie, but maybe you could get away with a little one. 

Dynamight studied you for a long, silent moment, his face unreadable. Then the light turned green, and he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. 

“Tch.” He flicked on his blinker and turned left, weaving down a set of smaller streets leading away from the city’s center, where you knew his agency was located. 

“Where… are we going?” you asked as you glanced out the window. “Is this a short cut to the agency?” 

“We’re not goin’ to the agency,” he said. 

Your heart skipped a beat, and some of your unease must have shown on your face, because the pro hero scoffed again. 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’re stopping to get food first.” 

You blinked in surprise. Food? He was buying you dinner? 

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” you stuttered, awkwardly waving your hands in front of you. “Really, I’m fine.” 

“Well, I’m fuckin’ hungry, so I’m getting food. That alright with you, Stitches?” His red eyes flicked to the side and pinned you to your seat, and all you could do was nod. 

The car descended into silence again as Dynamight navigated through the streets, and a few minutes later, he was pulling up to a curb. The street around you was definitely in a better part of town than you were used to, but it didn’t look too fancy. A number of small restaurants dotted the road, interspersed by a couple bars, and a few dozen people roamed the sidewalks, laughing and stumbling and obviously having a good time. 

Dynamight stared out at the crowd through the windshield, a small sneer of disgust curling his upper lip, before he turned to you. 

“Stay here,” he said. No, ordered. “I’ll be right back, so don’t go anywhere.” 

“O-Okay,” you replied with a nod. 

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to discern whether or not you were lying, but he must have been satisfied with what he found because he reached for the sunglasses that were casually thrown atop the dash. He slid them on before opening the car door and slipping out, but he paused before he closed it, bending down and poking his head back inside. 

“Any allergies?” he asked bluntly. “I don’t need you choking and dying on my leather seats.” 

“No allergies.” You shook your head. “Anything is fine.” 

A part of you still wanted to argue about him buying you food, but something told you that you would both lose the argument and succeed in pissing the blond off, which you were trying your best to avoid. 

Dynamight grunted in acknowledgement before he straightened, pulled up his hood, and slammed the car door. He took several strides away before he gestured back to the vehicle, and it was only when the locks engaged that you realized he’d taken the keys out of the ignition at some point. 

He really didn’t want you going anywhere. 

You exhaled shakily as you unclenched and clenched your fingers in your lap, trying to get some feeling back into them. Your thoughts kept threatening to spiral off down dark avenues, so you focused on watching the people outside the car. The windows were pretty tinted, besides the windshield, so you didn’t think people noticed you watching them go about their night. Everyone was happy and smiling, flushed with laughter and drink, and a yawning loneliness suddenly opened up inside you. Even back in America, you’d never had a lot of friends, but you had drinks a few times in college with classmates, and you missed going out to somewhere besides the grocery or craft supply store. You had thought you would have time to make new friends here in Japan, friends that you could try restaurants and bars with, but it hadn’t happened yet. 

And depending on what Dynamight had to say, it might not happen at all. 

You stewed in anxious silence for several minutes, but then the locks disengaged with a chirp, and the blond was sliding back into the driver’s seat, shoving a bulging plastic bag into your lap. 

“Here, don’t drop it,” he muttered as he jammed the keys back into the ignition. 

“I’ll just, um, set it on the floor,” you said as you shifted the bag down to the floorboards, holding it in place with your feet. The aromatic steam wafted out of the bag as you leaned over it, and your stomach snarled at the delicious scent of greasy meat and roasted vegetables. “This smells really good.” 

“Of course it does,” Dynamight sneered. “I’m not gonna eat shitty food.” 

“Only the best for the best,” you joked awkwardly. You blamed your sudden lightheadedness. When was the last time you ate? 

“Damn straight,” the blond huffed, yanking on his seatbelt before shifting the car into gear. “Can you make it five minutes without fainting?” 

“Yes?” you questioned more than stated, your brow furrowing. 

“Good, then hang on.” With that, the pro hero squealed away from the curb, merging into traffic seamlessly. 

Dynamight drove for several more minutes, but you didn’t ask where the two of you were going this time. The blond probably wouldn’t answer, and if he did, it would just be some kind of sharp retort, so you settled for staring out the window while making sure the food between your feet didn’t tip over. 

You hadn’t explored the city very much since you moved here, so most of what you passed by was foreign to you. But, just judging by the amount of lights and traffic around, you estimated that Dynamight was skirting the edge of the downtown area instead of going into it. You knew the general location of his agency, since you panic-Googled it earlier this afternoon, and while it was closer, the pro hero didn’t seem to be driving toward it. 

Eventually, Dynamight pulled up to the curb on an empty street and parked in the shadow of a tall office building. There was no sign on the façade to indicate a company, and only the dim emergency lights shone through the darkened windows, so it was obvious everyone had gone home for the day. Next door to the building seemed to be a small park, concrete and steel giving way to green grass and shadowed trees, but there was no one walking on this particular street. 

“Where are we?” you asked as you frowned out the tinted window. 

“Dunno,” Dynamight said before he opened his door, sliding out of the car without any more explanation. 

You blinked in confusion as he wrenched open your door a moment later, but he still didn’t say anything as he bent down to pick up the bag of food at your feet. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” you asked. “You drove us here.” 

“By the time I answer all your questions, the food is gonna be cold,” the pro hero grunted, and he glared down at you still buckled into your seat. “Get out.” 

“We’re not eating in the car?” You didn’t mean to ask this many questions, you could tell it was irritating the blond, but you were just so… confused as to how you got to this point in your life. 

“I’m not about to let you ruin my damn leather seats,” Dynamight growled, stepping back to give you room. “Now get out of the damn car… please.” 

The last word sounded like it was dragged out of the hero against his will, painfully, and you wondered again if he was trying to be nicer because of all the negative media coverage. You didn’t think the blond gave a shit what the media thought, but Red Riot and their agency did, so maybe Dynamight was being forced to make an effort. 

“Are you seriously just going to gape at me like an idiot? Do your legs not work?” 

Well, what was that saying? You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t force it to drink. 

“S-Sorry,” you stuttered as you fumbled with your seatbelt, and you nearly twisted your ankle falling out of the car. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re as clumsy as shitty Deku,” Dynamight grumbled as he easily caught your elbow and kept you from faceplanting. 

This close, you could smell the caramelizing sugar scent that you finally realized emanated from the blond, and even through the sleeve of your sweater, you could feel the strength in the pro hero’s calloused fingers. 

Your face flushed with heat, but you were pretty sure he was tired of your stammered apologies, so you just stepped up onto the curb as he slammed the passenger door and locked the car. 

Then he turned to the tall office building and froze before a scowl twisted his features once again. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and his red eyes snapped to you. “You’re not afraid of heights are you?” 

“I… don’t think so,” you said with a frown. “I mean, I’ve been on roller coasters before, and I obviously flew here from America—” 

“Perfect,” the blond cut you off, shoving the bag of food at you again. “Take this.” 

“O-Okayyyy?” You tentatively wrapped your fingers around the plastic handles of the bag as you drew the food close to your chest. 

“Now, hop on,” he said as he turned around and crouched, his fingers starting to crackle with light and flares of heat. 

“Wh… what?!” Your whole body felt hot this time, not just your face. “Y-You want me… to get on your back?” 

“Again with the damn questions,” he growled, glaring over his shoulder at you. “If it will get you to move your ass faster, we’re eating on that roof, and unless you have wings under that sweater, I’m the only one who can get us up there, and I need my damn hands to use my quirk. So. Hop. On.” 

You gaped at the blond for a millisecond, a thousand more questions racing through your mind. Why the hell were you eating on a roof of a random building? Was this allowed? Why couldn’t you just go back to the agency? 

But you knew by the look on the blond’s face that he’d reached his limit with questions, so you could do nothing but comply. 

Just don’t think about it. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think. 

You kept up this mantra in your head as you hesitantly approached the hero’s back. He had turned to look forward again, so at least his crimson eyes weren’t burning a hole into you as you carefully slid one hand onto his shoulder while you used the other to cradle the food against your stomach. 

You were just debating the best way to finish this embarrassing endeavor when you felt strong hands slide over the backs of your knees and pull you forward, startling a yelp out of you. 

“Jump,” Dynamight grunted, and you only had time to mindlessly obey as he straightened to his full height in one fluid motion. 

“Shit!” you couldn’t help but curse in English, hoping he couldn’t understand you. His hands helped to guide your legs around his waist, and you dug your left hand into his shoulder so you didn’t fall backward or crush the food that was nestled between the hero’s spine and your navel. 

A beat passed in silence as the two of you found your balance again. 

“I-I’m not too heavy, am I?” you murmured into the hero’s blond hair. Your throat felt tight with embarrassment, but when you went to swallow, your mouth was as dry as a desert. 

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he shifted your weight a little, his hands burning the backs of your thighs even through the thick denim of your jeans. “I could carry two of you without breaking a sweat. Don’t call me weak.” 

“I wasn’t!” you rushed to assure him. “I just meant—” 

“I know what you meant, shut up,” the blond cut you off, turning his head a fraction so his red eyes sliced into you. At this distance, his burnt sugar scent was almost overwhelming. “Do you have a good grip on me? And the food?” 

“Y-Yes,” you said as your heart began to pound against your sternum. You hoped he couldn’t feel it. 

“Make sure,” he growled, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs before he suddenly let go. 

A small gasp was ripped from you as you clenched your legs around his waist, and your left arm went from clutching his shoulder to wrapping around his neck. 

“Ack! Don’t choke me!” he huffed as he stretched his throat out of the way. 

Your right hand scrambled down a few inches, and you fisted the front of his hoodie, anchoring yourself across his chest as you sucked in your gut, leaned more into his spine, and tried not to crush the bag of food that was steadily making you sweat. 

“I-Is that okay?” you asked, your voice no more than a timid whisper. 

“Fine,” Dynamight said as he dropped his hands down by his hips, his palms crackling with energy once again. “Don’t fucking let go.” 

“I wo—OHHHH!” Your sentence trailed off into a startled scream as the hero suddenly exploded off the ground. 

His quirk made your ears ring, but you didn’t even have time to process that before you were thirty feet in the air. Every muscle in your body locked up in terror, and you were sure Dynamight was going to have bruises on his ribs from your legs clamping down around him like a vise. The wind tore at your hair and clothes, stinging the exposed skin of your face and neck, and you ducked your head against the hero’s blond hair as you clenched your eyes shut. 

Don’t let go, don’t let go, you chanted in your mind. 

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, and you heard Dynamight extinguish his quirk an instant before his boots slammed into concrete. 

The two of you stood there for a moment as you panted against the back of his neck, your hammering heart still lodged in your throat, before the blond patted the side of your thigh. 

“You can get down now,” he said. “But don’t drop the damn food.” 

You peeled open your eyes with a shaky exhale, and you could feel your entire body trembling as you slowly slid down from the hero’s back. The crinkling bag drew your attention, and you had a split-second worry that you had crushed the food in your terror, but a quick inspection showed that while the containers were a little crumpled, no food was leaking out. 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Dynamight muttered before his boots started to crunch away from you. 

You snapped your head up and blindly followed after the blond, your eyes darting to the ground to make sure you didn’t trip over anything and then up to your surroundings to try and figure out where the hero was leading you. 

The answer, apparently, was to the very edge of the roof, and you wondered if the hero was going to make you hop on the Dynamight Express again, but instead he came to a stop beside a large electrical box. To your shock, he opened a small door on the tall metal rectangle and produced a thick, dark colored blanket, which he then threw down on the roof’s gravel. 

“Sit,” he grunted before he flopped to the ground, sighing as he stretched his legs out in front of him. 

There was about four or five feet between the electrical box and the edge of the roof, but the soles of Dynamight’s boots nearly brushed against the roof’s wall. 

Or they would have, if a three-foot section of the cement wall wasn’t missing right in front of him. The edges of the concrete partition looked suspiciously charred black, and you frowned at the sight. 

“Did you… blast a chunk out of this wall?” you asked as you slowly sank to your knees beside the blond. You were painfully aware of the void of protection in front of you, and you knew you were at least ten to fifteen stories above the street. But at least it wasn’t so cold up here, tucked into this little nook with the six-foot tall hero’s body heat helping to warm the air. 

“It was in the way,” Dynamight sneered, leaning over and snatching the plastic bag from where you had set it between the two of you. “And wipe that look off your face. I’m not gonna push you through the hole, and you’re not gonna fall with me here.” 

He didn’t look at you as he said this, too busy pulling out several food containers and spreading them out on the blanket, but the absolute surety, the confidence, in his voice actually eased some of the tension from your shoulders, and you sighed as you shifted onto your butt and leaned back against the electrical box. 

Now that you were seated in front of the hole, you realized this building gave you the perfect vantage point to the east. Most of the other structures were shorter than the one you currently sat on, so the streets stretched out before you like a map. The night sky was clear above you, devoid of clouds, nothing but a dark purple canvas sprinkled here and there with stars. But the moon was nearly full over your head, and its pale light was just enough to see by. You could see cars several blocks away cruising through the pools of lamplight, people waiting at bus stops or walking down the road to their next destination, and a realization came over you. 

“Oh, I see,” you murmured, still staring out at the view. “You must use this building as a perch during your hero patrols, right? You can see a lot from here.” 

“No shit.” Dynamight rolled his eyes as he opened one of the take-out containers. The smell of a well-made yakisoba hit your nostrils, and you watched as the blond ripped open a pair of chopsticks. He must have felt your gaze, though, because his red eyes snapped up and narrowed on you with a glare. “Quit starin’ at me and eat something. I didn’t go through all this damn trouble for nothing.” 

“R-Right.” You cleared your throat as you glanced between the other take-out boxes. “Was there something for me in particular, or…” 

“Just pick something!” he snapped before he shoved a bite of noodles into his scowling mouth. 

You pursed your lips as you reached for the closest container, flipping up the lid to find nearly a dozen yakitori skewers. Your stomach snarled and cramped as the roasted scent of the chicken filled your nose, and you could feel saliva pooling in your mouth. 

Grease immediately began to stain your fingers as you picked up one of the skewers, but you didn’t even care as you brought the kebab to your lips. You took a tentative bite to find the meat still pleasantly warm, but then a groan rumbled in the back of your throat as the flavor exploded across your tongue. 

“Mmmm, that is so good!” you mumbled around a mouthful as you ravenously tore off another bite. “It’s seasoned perfectly, and I like the bit of spice it has.” 

“Told you I don’t eat shitty food,” the blond scoffed before he reached over and snagged a piece of yakitori for himself. 

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, but you quickly covered it up by taking another bite of chicken. 

“Thank you for the meal, Dynamight,” you said once you finished the skewer, reaching for one of the other containers. This one turned out to be another plate of yakisoba, and you eagerly pulled it into your lap. 

Silence settled between the two of you for a minute, punctuated by the sounds of you both quietly chewing, before Dynamight broke it again. 

“Katsuki.” 

“Hmm?” you asked around a mouthful of noodles. When you lifted your head, your eyes clashed with glaring red ones barely two feet away, and you swallowed quickly so you wouldn’t choke. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

“My name,” he grunted before ripping into another skewer, white teeth flashing in the pale moonlight. “It’s not Dynamight. It’s Katsuki Bakugo.” 

Another hot flash broke out across your body as his scarlet eyes bored into you, and you dropped your gaze to your lap. The blond was too close, his burnt sugar scent still strong beneath the aroma of food, and your brain struggled to come up with a response. 

“Katsuki Bakugo,” you murmured because you couldn’t help yourself, testing out the syllables on your tongue. 

You thought you saw the hero twitch out of the corner of your eye, but he might have just been taking another bite. 

“Yeah, and you better remember it,” the blond said after a moment, his tone adamant, commanding. 

Like there was any way you could forget his name. Japan’s Number Two Hero wasn’t exactly forgettable. 

You found it a little funny, though, that he was so weird about his own name after refusing to call you anything but “Stitches” so far. 

“I will,” you murmured, darting a glance at Dynamight—Katsuki? No, that felt too familiar. Bakugo, then—to find him still staring at you. 

The blond’s crimson gaze was piercing, pinning you to the spot, and you couldn’t look away. You thought he was going to say something, but his eyes only roamed over your face silently, like he was searching your features for an answer to a question he hadn’t voiced. His scrutiny unnerved you, made you fidget, and you played with your chopsticks to try and quell some of your nervous energy. 

Still, he didn’t say a word, but his red eyes began to narrow bit by bit. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore, and you opened your mouth to say something, anything, before he beat you to it. 

“You have a healing quirk.” 

The words hit you like a sledgehammer. 

Your heart slammed to a stop in your chest, and you inhaled so fast it was almost a scream. A million thoughts, excuses, and lies scrambled through your head, but the hero didn’t even give you time to grasp at any of them. 

“Don’t deny it,” he said, face twisting into his usual scowl. “Fuckin’ hate liars. I know you have a healing quirk.” 

The blunt confirmation, after so long worrying, felt almost like a relief, but it was quickly followed by a deluge of dread. 

He knew, he knew, he knew. The truth blared through your head like a siren. There really was no running from it now. 

“Well?” Dynamight—Bakugo—demanded as he glared at you. “Are you going to answer?” 

“You didn’t ask me a question.” The words fell from your mouth without your permission, and you winced as the blond’s expression darkened. 

“Fine,” he growled. “Do you have a healing quirk or not?” 

“…yes.” There was nothing else for you to say, so you just stared at the pro hero as the noose tightened around your neck. 

“I knew it.” A wild smirk stretched across Bakugo’s mouth, triumphant and proud. 

“How?” you couldn’t help but ask as you clenched your hands in your lap, the food long since forgotten. Your stomach was churning itself into knots anyway, but a morbid part of you just had to know what was the final nail in the coffin that had sealed your fate. 

“How what? Did I figure it out?” the blond asked as he lazily picked up another skewer and took a bite, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t hold your whole world in the palm of his calloused hand. “Because I’m not a blind idiot.” 

“I’m serious,” you said with a frown, digging your nails into your palms. 

“So am I,” Bakugo scoffed, and his red eyes found yours again. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it right. That night in your apartment, you said I wasn’t really hurt, didn’t bleed that much, but your hands and my clothes were soaked with it. Way too much for the stupid paper cuts or whatever you blamed it on. The burns on my left arm were better off than they should have been, too, but I knew you were lying before I even noticed any of that shit. I knew the second you opened your mouth.” 

You cringed with guilt, dropping your gaze to your fidgeting fingers. So, all your lies had been futile from the start. “Was it something in my tone or…?” 

“Well, stuttering over your words with your guilty ass face didn’t do you any favors, but no,” the blond grunted. “It wasn’t your tone, it was…” 

Here, the pro hero trailed off, and he was quiet for so long that you chanced a glance at him. 

Bakugo was frowning off into the distance, staring out over the city without seeing. You could tell he was struggling with something, and since you were obviously a masochist, you pressed him about it. 

“It was…?” you led and then had to stifle a gasp as the blond snapped his head around to glare at you. 

“You can’t say shit about this,” he snarled and bared his teeth like a cornered animal, and you distantly noted that his canines were more pointed and pronounced than what was usual. Then his next words stabbed into you, sharp and serrated, and dragged you back to the conversation. “Do you hear me, Stitches? You don’t say shit to anyone. If you do, I’ll kill you.” 

You blanched at the seriousness of his tone, the sharpness of his eyes, and a nervous laugh was startled out of you. 

“I’m obviously not in a position to say anything against you, Dyna—er, Bakugo,” you said, adding the “-sama” honorific after his name as a show of deference. “You could have me arrested or even deported for using my quirk on you without permission or a license.” 

“Damn right I could,” he huffed as he narrowed his eyes at you, but some of the tension and anger left the lines of his face. “But I’m not gonna do any of that shit because I need—you are going to help me.” 

“Help you?” you echoed in an incredulous tone. “What could I possibly help you with?” 

Bakugo glared at you as the muscle in his jaw worked, like he was chewing over his words, before he finally spat them out. 

“My ears. The reason I knew you were lying immediately was because I could hear you.” 

Your frown deepened as you processed his words. “You remember losing your hearing?” 

“Remember it?” The blond scowled at you. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I remember being fuckin’ deaf!” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, waving your hands in front of you. “I just—right after you crashed through my window, you woke up for a second, but you were disoriented. I was trying to tell you that you beat the villain before I saw the blood coming out of your ears and realized you must have blown your eardrums. Then you passed out, and when you woke up again, a-after I… healed you, you asked about the villain a second time, so I just assumed you didn’t remember waking up the first time.” 

Bakugo frowned at you, pale eyebrows furrowing over crimson eyes. “I woke up more than once? Yeah, I don’t remember that shit.” 

“Wait…” You blinked and pursed your lips as you tried to understand what he was saying. “If you don’t remember that, how do you remember losing your hearing?” 

“Because my hearing was shot to shit before I even ran into that damn villain,” Bakugo growled, and his face tightened again as he turned away from you. “Couldn’t even hear my quirk activate anymore.” 

He held up his hand to demonstrate, and flashes of light crackled to life in his palm like mini fireworks. The hero’s expression grew strange as he stared at the visual manifestation of his quirk, but then he clenched his fist and extinguished the sparks. 

Meanwhile, you felt your jaw gape open as your eyes widened. “You… how long has your hearing been in decline?” 

The blond ground his jaw so hard you could hear the scrape of his teeth, and he glared off into the middle distance for so long that you just assumed he wasn’t going to answer you. 

Then… 

“Fuckin’ years, I dunno,” he muttered as he pulled one of his long legs up, balancing his forearm against his knee and pressing his mouth into the back of his wrist. “Didn’t notice it at first, but it probably started at UA, once I was able to use my quirk more regularly.” 

Ohhh, of course. Your eyes dropped to the clenched fist in his lap, and you remembered the boom that made your ears ring as the hero flew you both up here. It had been so loud, and to think of experiencing that multiple times a day, at close range, for years apparently since you knew UA was a famous high school here in Japan… 

“Did you see a doctor?” You frowned, glancing up at the blond as his gaze snapped back to yours. 

“Tch, doctors,” Bakugo sneered, disgust glinting in his crimson eyes. “Fuckin’ useless pieces of shit. I left a good-for-nothing white coat’s office the afternoon I ran into that asphalt villain. Idiot doctor said most of my hearing was just gone, I was going to lose the rest, and there was shit all he could do. Then, few hours later, you patched me up in fuckin’ seconds, so I know that bastard was full of shit.” 

All you could do was blink rapidly at the pro hero as you tried to process all this information. Japan’s Number Two Hero had been going deaf for years, and no one had noticed? You knew that would have definitely made the news, let alone the gossip magazines. What’s more, a doctor said his hearing was a lost cause, and yet… 

“How well can you hear now?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you. You hadn’t even intended to heal his ears that night, it had just been a side effect of you dumping your energy into his body in order to keep him breathing. 

“Dunno, haven’t exactly done a hearing test,” the blond scoffed and rolled his eyes. “But I can hear you just fine, my phone, too, and my quirk. I’d say that’s good enough.” 

You pursed your lips in thought, studying the hero like he’d been studying you all night, and then you remembered what had started this whole conversation. 

“Okay…” you said slowly. “Well, if you’re hearing is… fine now, what am I supposed to help you with?” 

“Keeping it that way, obviously.” He glared at you. “You’re gonna be stuck at the agency for the next few weeks anyway, so you need to make sure my ears stay working.” 

You gaped at the pro-hero, wondering if you were suddenly losing your hearing. 

“M-Me?” you stammered as your heart crawled up your throat. “B-But I… I’m not a doctor.” 

“No shit,” he said, apparently a favorite phrase of his, and he looked at you like you were a particularly dumb child. “I don’t need a doctor, I told you they’re fuckin’ useless. I just need your quirk.” 

“But…” you trailed off in disbelief. Out of all the outcomes you’d envisioned for this night, this had never even crossed your mind as anything in the realm of possibility. “I’m… not a hero. I don’t have a license to use my quirk.” 

Bakugo stared at you in silence for an endless moment before his upper lip curled into a snarl. 

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he hissed. “I know all that!” 

“W-Well, I don’t know what you want then!” you said, your voice rising in pitch and volume to match his. 

The echoes of your words ricocheted around you before they faded off into the night, and the blond clenched his jaw as he glared at you. 

“I want you to use your quirk anyway,” he said, the low growl of his tone vibrating through you. You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off mid inhale. “And don’t start bitching about rules. You’ve been using your quirk illegally already. That kid and his old hag of a grandma are patients of yours, aren’t they?” 

Your jaw snapped closed with an audible click, and a smirk bloomed across the blond’s pale lips. 

“Hah,” he snorted. “Knew it.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” you gritted out, and your breathing grew shallow. 

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his smirk taking on a taunting edge. “You really gotta work on your poker face, Stitches.” 

Your vision started to tunnel, interspersed with flashes of Tadashi and Ayano’s faces. “The Kojimas have nothing to do—” 

“Oh, calm the fuck down,” he cut you off as he rolled his eyes again. “I’m not gonna turn a grandma and a kid into the cops. Especially not for doing the same shit we’re going to do.” 

A knot of tension unraveled beside your heart, but your insides still felt more tangled up than a yarn ball being batted around by a crazed kitten. 

“Thank you,” you murmured with a sigh, dropping your eyes to where your fingers were picking at the frayed hem of your sweater. 

“I don’t need your gratitude,” he scoffed. “I just need—” 

“My quirk.” You were the one to cut him off this time, and you lifted your gaze to his again. 

“Yeah,” he said as he narrowed those scarlet eyes at you like a predator zeroing in on its prey. “So, is that your way of saying you’ll do it?” 

You bit your lip as you considered your options, but really, you didn’t have any. Dynamight was a famous, rich pro hero with all the leverage. He could ruin your life… but he wasn’t. He was instead providing a trade. 

His silence for your quirk. 

The Kojimas flashed through your mind again, as did your other “patients,” as the blond called them. You thought of your parents, too, and your grandparents. If you agreed to the hero’s proposition, you wouldn’t have to return to America as a failure, and after a few weeks, you could reopen your family’s legacy shop. 

And, in the meantime, you still got to use your quirk. You could heal, actually be useful. Even more than that, Japan’s Number Two Hero was relying on you. 

You didn’t know if you were up to the task, having never used your quirk beyond minor instances that were usually days or weeks in between each other. 

But… 

“Yes,” you finally said as you looked up into Katsuki Bakugo’s face. “I’ll help you.” 

You just hoped you didn’t hang yourself in the process.

[mellow-em]

Bittersweet Temptations

CHAPTER 3

[special dts: @bluewingedangel @siennamariia <3]

Your neighbors, Nathan and Elena, have been friends with your parents for years. Whether it’d be family gatherings or vacations, they were around; they were family. But when you return home from your final years of college, what will happen when you find that it isn't just them living in the house next door anymore?

_____________________________________

I wanted to say something.

I knew based on the long expressions plastered across their faces, that they were waiting impatiently for me to say something too.

But I physically couldn’t.

A knot cemented itself at the back of my throat, suffocating me as I tried to swallow. I could feel my mouth suffer through a drought as I did so.

All I could do was look at the three of them, internally wallowing in embarrassment with a load of questions making my head spin.

How could Nate and Elena keep something like that from me? What were they thinking? No. What was I thinking?

Suddenly, the voices of people scattered amongst the yard became too loud. Though, the stares directed towards me were louder.

“Y/n can you say something?”

Without even thinking, I felt my body turn away from them, and I carried myself away.

“Y/n?” I could hear Elena calling after me.

“I’ll just be a minute” I finally croaked back to her, relieved that I could finally get a word out.

I rushed past the deck towards the side of the house.

I knew in the back of my mind that I was being ridiculous. It wasn’t something to run away from; knowing they probably felt just as awkward telling me.

But I had to get away from Sam.

I couldn’t bear standing there while his smug grin could be seen in the corner of my eye.

It was driving me crazy.

Why does he insist on making this hard on me?

I continued to let my feet travel, not even worried about where I would end up. It felt good to step away from the chaos that my parents organized, for a while anyway.

But I soon found myself at the dead end of the street, in front of the wooded patches that lined the edges of the pavement; sectioning off the neighborhood from the forest.

Without any hesitation, I stepped past the barricading trees, and onto the trail that led to a place of sanctuary.

A small body of water sat on the indented ground, with blooming ferns and bushes fencing it. Farther away from the pond, large rocks collected together, forming makeshift seats to take in the atmosphere.

It looked like it belonged in a cheesy disney movie, or a landscape renaissance painting.

I found this place with Nate when I was little, and since then I would escape here when things become too much to handle.

I sat myself down on one of the largest slabs of rock, almost seeing the memories with Nate passing around me in the form of faded visuals; they were almost ghost-like.

I took myself into these moments one by one; succumbing to the laughter, the playfulness, the smiles, the thrill.

Even though I love my parents more than anything, the bundles of memories Nate and I shared, showed me a glimpse of adventure that my parents couldn’t give me.

The overwhelming feeling of contentment pushed a smile onto my face.

But in an instant, it all faded.

Sam.

That one moment with him feasted on my conscious mind like a ravenous vulture. It made my stomach churn in the worst possible way.

I sunk my head into my hands, huffing in frustration.

That is, until I heard a few raucous cracks of leaves and sticks not too far from me.

I fix my posture while whipping my head towards the direction of the noise, only to be met with guilty eyes.

Nathan stood there, leaning his upper body on the stiff trunk of a tree.

Perfect timing, Nate..

My lips flatlined as I scratched at the corner of my forehead, “Hey.”

He steps closer, leisurely but surely.

“Hey,” he gestures to the vacant space next to me, “can I?”

“Yeah.”

Placing both of his hands on his thighs, he plops down next to me, slightly grunting. We sat there in silence; but it wasn’t peaceful, it was impatient.

The both of us were longing to say something to one another, but neither of us preferred confrontation in the slightest. So we sat there, staring at the grove.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here.”

I look over to him, noticing the tinge of nostalgia sketched upon his features.

“uh yeah.. yeah it really has,” I release a breath, reverting my eyes back to the pond, “almost 5 years.”

It was two days before I left for college. Screaming echoed throughout the house, and reverberated through my head, overwhelming my senses.

My parents chalked it up to being stressed over ‘my big move,’ which I can believe. But the words said that day pushed its way through me. I finally had enough of the nonsense and hollered back at them.

Big mistake. ‘you’re an absolute failure’ They said, ‘you’re never gonna go far.’

Long story short, I ran out of the house, and into the forest. I sat on this same rock, with tears planting glistening streams down my face.

Nate apparently heard the commotion, which wasn’t too surprising, and he made his way to me.

He didn’t even say a word before wrapping his arms around me; embracing me with a comforting warmth that slowly eased me back to normal.

‘Sic Parvis Magna,’ He said.

I was more than confused with those few words, until he began to speak once more.

‘Greatness from small beginnings. Now this isn’t exactly small, you know, with you leaving me here to go to college and all. But it is a new beginning- your new beginning. Don’t let anyone stop you from moving forward.’

That was the last day I saw this beautiful spot of ours, and the last time I really had a solid conversation with Nate; it made the final memory bittersweet at best.

“It really hasn’t changed a bit though.”

“Probably because change is dining elsewhere,”I tried to whisper under my breath, but unfortunately, he heard me loud and clear.

I look up at him in the corner of my eye, noticing his presence fall into a sea of guilt again.

He runs his hand through his surprisingly neatened hair, letting out a sigh that releases all of his proper posture.

“Look, y/n, I wanted to tell you. I really did. But it’s just-”

“Nate all I gotta ask is why? Why would you keep something that major from me?”

I had my body fully turned to face him now, while he still remained there; slouched with his head bowed to his fidgety hands.

I could tell he was stalling, swallowing his responses with force.

“Nate. Just tell me. Please.”

His eyes closed as he exhaled, “It’s a very long story.”

“I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Not exactly.” Roars of laughter within the distance cause both of us to look at the trail leading out of the woods, “we’ve still got a party going on, which happens to be for you, if I may add-”

“Seriously Nate, you think I care?” I was growing fretful, mentally pleading for him to just give up on excuses.

His hands raised in defense, “Fine, fine, okay..”

———

It didn’t even occur to us how long we’d been out here until the streams of sunlight disappeared from the ruptures in between the trees. The day was just replaced with the beginning of nightfall.

“So you’re telling me that Sam, your brother...who was presumed dead for 15 years, dragged you out across the globe to find Henry Avery’s treasure in 3 months because a drug lord was gonna kill him if you didn’t?”

Nate stifled a low chuckle, nodding along.

“So I take it you found it and gave the son of a bitch his cut? Well, since he’s alive and all-”

“Hey, language missy.” He attempted a scolding tone, but I could see through his thin facade.

I rolled my eyes, shoving him playfully,“Haha very funny. Now answer the question mister.”

“Well, it turns out the son of a bitch was Sam. He uh- lied about the whole thing.”

My eyes widened, “Wait what? So the drug lord- the sole purpose of the treasure hunt..”

“Yep it was all bullshit.”

I averted my wide-eyed gaze from him to the pond that was now lit with the blaring lights of fireflies,“Wow. I’m surprised no one got the chance to kick him in the face.. or balls.”

“Yeah Rafe- he pretty much took care of that one..”

The both of us laughed, causing a few birds to flutter away from the branches closest to us.

I missed this.

“Figured I’d find you two here.”

As our fit died down, we glanced over to a beaming Elena emerging from the trail with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I told your parents that you were comin’ over with us. I assumed you wanted some space from all the chaos.”

I showed my relief in the form of a warm simper, up until the realization punched me in the face.

Sam is gonna be there.

My body tensed, becoming a stiff statue in place. The lack of saliva in my mouth was back, and I felt my breath hitch silently.

I guessed the two of them noticed my change in demeanor.

“Are you okay y/n? You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Elena’s tone was gentle, as her grin faltered slightly.

“No no it’s fine it’s just- it’s nothing don’t worry,”I abruptly stood up, scratching at my forehead again, “lets go, back.”

“You sure?,” I felt Nate’s arm fall over my shoulders, giving me a faint squeeze as the three of us trudged down the path.

I needed to take my mind off of Sam, hopefully I can avoid him.

“Yeah..” my voice trailed off, “as long as I get to play a certain game that I happened to have the highest score of.” walking confidently with my head held high, I could still see Nate rolling his eyes.

“Actually, Elena has since claimed that title for herself.” Nate said frankly.

A dramatic gasp escapes my lips,“Elena, are you kidding me!”

“Hey, don’t get mad at the pregnant lady here,” she looks back at Nate and I as we continue to walk down the trail, “how about this: you two compete to try and beat my high score.”

Nate looks down at me with the same contemplative look I give him.

“And what’s the catch, hun?” Nate asks.

“Loser gets pushed or thrown into the pool.”

Well well well, Elena’s finally getting in on our shenanigans.

I smirked, “This is gonna be light work.”

“Oh really now? I just know you’re secretly afraid that I’m gonna win.”

“Sure, Nate. I’m not gonna lose, you’re all bark and no bite.”

It was his turn to let out a theatrical breath,“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

While Nate and I went on with our child like banter, Elena laughed hysterically at our foolishness,“You two are absolutely ridiculous.”

Nate glances back at me, only this time his fist patiently waited in front of me for a fist bump, “you ready to get destroyed?”

I scoff, hitting my fist on his, “You’re on.”

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 1

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: angst, mention of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you're given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can't relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier. A/N: I had this idea one day and initially it was just gonna be a one shot but then i said screw it. i’ve never really done a full chapter story/series so...? Here I go? I’ve written most in advanced so I know I actually have some sense of where this is going and tbh i think it’s gonna be interesting but i love soulmate!au anyways :)

masterlist | taglist | read on ao3

The nightmares always felt the same. 

In your mind, clear glimpses revealed him - the brooding, long-haired man. He typically wore a mask and that same unforgiving yet disconnected look in his eyes. A metal arm would glimmer every now and then and you’d quickly find him wielding guns or twirling knives. The most uncomfortable acts were those of when he’d use just his hands. 

You didn’t really know the people he was affecting. Some looked important, some seemed like casualties to whatever bigger fight was being played at, but they all came in quick glimpses. Part of you felt that he didn’t care enough to remember them. He had no connection, just a goal. There was always more of a focus on what he was doing and making sure it was done. You could tell that was what he was feeling, what he was seeing, and frankly, it was of the disturbing kind. 

You had grown up hearing friends and family gush about all the wonderful, fascinating soulmate dreams -- because that was what they were supposed to be: dreams. Lovely, lullaby dreams showing one the life their soulmate was living. Giving the other a glimpse at their feelings, their adventures. Hopefully making you want your person.

Your parents loved reminiscing about how they saw each other playing with friends as kids or volunteering at shelters in college. Your friends had been equally fascinated, constantly gossiping about what books their soulmates had read or how their eyes would light up when they played with their dogs.

But you weren’t getting that. Instead of seeing your soulmate read their favorite book, you watched him take down what felt like an army of people. You saw him marching on command as if just a machine.

Part of you thought you were broken. Why were you only getting to see the bad things? Was there nothing good about your person? Had they lived for nothing other than these missions?

It was a weird combination, what you felt towards him. To say you weren’t at least intrigued would be a lie because, at the end of the day, this man was your soulmate. No matter how unnerving or confusing it was, you two were paired. While you didn’t know if he actually knew it, you felt it. You felt the pull in every knife flip. In every stab. In every mission. In every accomplishment.

Even time he was forced to go dormant -- because, yes, you could see the ice. You could see the shocks. 

Your soulmate dreams were nightmares. And they ached and pulled at you. 

***

You were already awake when sunlight began seeping into your room. This wasn’t a new occurrence -- the sun and you seemed to like to play a game to see who would rise first... You, it was always you lately.

The dreams were distorted memories last night. You didn’t see it all like it was interrupted, but you could tell it appeared to be a past memory. There was just something about the intensity visually this time that was weaker. It was less fresh than previous ones but still held feelings, strength. It was a confusing phenomenon, an old thought transmitting between the soulmate lines, but wasn’t unusual for you by any means.

Sometimes you received memories from your soulmate that dated back to the 70s, sometimes 60s. Things he had seen that weren't even from your decade which raised so many more alarms. It prevented you from getting any sort of age range. Sometimes people received memories their soulmates had learned of, like hearing a story of a wedding and depicting it, but they never lasted. Usually they were one-off casualties but these you had persisted. They had to be from him.

While confusing beyond all means, something you never could think about discussing with others, it gave you a little hope that maybe, just maybe, things had…stopped. Whatever rampage or mission your soulmate was on (had been put on?) was finished. Especially being a memory that came from just a few years ago. For once, maybe there weren't new nightmares for your soulmate to produce. 

But you couldn’t get your hopes up. They could be right back at it tonight so you couldn’t allow yourself to ponder it no matter how much it all bugged you. You force yourself to get up and on with the day. Rising as you had watched the sun do so. 

You pulled yourself out of bed choosing to ignore the sleep-deprived headache threatening to creep up. Shuffling around your bedroom, you collected your work uniform wherever you had really tossed it throughout the space. 

Once dressed for the day, you moved on to making yourself presentable to actually get on with work. While you only just worked in a coffee shop -- not exactly the epitome of luxury -- tips were key and people liked their barista to actually look alive.

You finally got out of the door just moments later, homemade bagel sandwich in tow, all complemented by the fakest, brightest smile you could muster as you made your way down the city sidewalk. 

You quite enjoyed the work commute, being able to weave in and out of the people, your mind instinctively wondering if he was here. Was he milling around? Hiding in the shadows? Planning something here or there? What to do next? 

You figured most likely not, but you still looked even if the idea of him was enough to make you shake in your boots. Besides, you didn’t even totally know what you were looking for. The eyes and hair only revealed so much. The glimmer of his hand, though, that sure was unique. You could still see it in flashes throughout your mind. 

So, you harmlessly let your eyes wander on the street. Checking over the faces, the posture, the appearances of them all but none of them could tug on that part of your heart. Granted, it was sort of ridiculous. Your soulmate had been proven to maybe not be the kindest person in the universe but something had to happen if the two of you were paired. And you were just the right amount of daring to see it through.

You finally made it to the coffee shop after your leisure browsing of the city people all bustling, brain set on getting one place or another. They were just exhausting to even look at.

The bell above the door jingled as you entered. The shop was mere minutes from opening and your coworker was already setting up, nearly ready to bring in the morning rush. She greeted you with a weak, tired smile. You responded with one of your own. Seamlessly, you two fell into it all, moving in silence. Prepping, brewing, cleaning.

Work was going much smoother than normal for the day. You seemed to fall into your tasks with ease as you served the morning crowd. You had your normals’ orders memorized and the new customers wooed at your speediness. Tips were coming in nicely as well, you noted. You and your coworker worked together, as if in a tango behind the counter. 

The day seemed that it would continue on just as smoothly as the morning had. Things started to taper off nicely around the afternoon. The shop was mostly filled with college students in between their lectures. They nursed their coffees as they typed away so determined with their homework. 

You and your coworker took the brief moment to lull around. She was aimlessly sweeping by the sugars while you cleaned the same spot over and over again on the counter as you watched the television in the corner. 

The owner had put in the TV a while ago citing it drummed up service but you never actually found proof of that. Instead, it sat high up on the wall, above the windows, muted at all hours. He at least allowed the closed captioning to be on which was what you were reading as you pretended to clean. 

Some midday news program was on. A graphic flashed signaling that they were going into one of their “investigative reports.” You stopped your movements with the rag as you watched the news graphic transition to a portrait picture of a man from the waist up. He...

Something made your stomach drop. Your heart twisted in familiarity while your brain sounded the alarm. Those eyes. That arm. You could feel all of it practically radiating from the television. Letting go of the towel, you let out a gasp at the true shock when it suddenly clicked in your head. 

Everything slowed down around you. Customers began staring, concerned. Your coworker was calling your name, asking what was wrong. But you couldn’t do anything. Your eyes were glued to the television. Something crushed in you as it began adding up. 

Eyes. Arm. Feelings. Emotions. Eyes. Arm. Feelings. Missions. Scene after scene, you went over everything that had been stored -- forced -- unconventionally in your head.

You read the name on the closed captioning followed by his title. Who he was, what he was. 

It fell into place. All of it. It was him, yes. The dreams -- no, no. The nightmares. Your word repeated it over and over again. Him. All him. James Buchanan Barnes. The Winter Soldier.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Pepsi Raspberry

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader/you

Warnings: There's a fight and Reader's ex left her with some issues, but nothing super traumatic. Frankie is super cute (and a little needy). I just threw this together on a slow day at work, apologies in advance for errors.

Summary: You fight with Frankie. That's it that's the plot.

A/N: This was honestly supposed to be a piece about feminism and female independence in a relationship but I can't be trusted around Frankie, he totally bippity-boppity-booped me into forgivance. Dickhead. Also I struggled for two and a half hours with the title and that's why it's shit. I hate titles.

Words: 2,416

A loud noise wakes you up, your heart missing a beat. For a moment, you're completely still in bed, scared out of your mind. That was definitely the sound of the front door opening and closing, and someone crashing into a chair. You're as stiff as a board, your first thought being that this is it, this is how you'll die, by the hand of a home invader who's probably going to assault you first and then kill you, or maybe kidnap you and do god knows what to you…

You hear cursing and as you recognize the voice you also realize that if someone wanted to break in, they'd probably at least try to be stealthy about it.

"Frankie?" You mean for it to be a call but it's just a breathless whimper. You wet your lips, finding your mouth too dry.

Heavy, staggering footsteps bring the unknown visitor to the bedroom door and you reach out to turn on your bedside lamp. Blinking blearily towards the soft light is indeed Frankie, a sheepish smile on his face.

"The hell are you doing?" Your fright-induced stiffness leaving your body, you sit up in bed and glare at your boyfriend who was supposed to sleep at his own place tonight after his night out with the boys. His eyes are unfocused and his face shiny, and it's clearly been a good night. You glance at the nightstand, where the red light diodes of the clock tell you that the time is barely three am.

“Sorry, baby. Did I wake ya? There was… there was a chair in the entry. Did you move a chair? There never was a chair there before. Stubbed my toe.”

He limps over to the bed, trying to look as sober as possible while unbuttoning his shirt – “trying” being the operative word, as he’s clearly lost control of his fine motoric skills. He ends up pulling the flannel over his head, but it gets stuck, and he topples over his side of the bed. You draw back a little, wrinkling your nose. He smells of stale beer and cigarettes and moreover: he was supposed to go home. You had both agreed that you'd spend Saturday night apart for once, him catching up with his friends, you with yours, and he'd go home where he could spend Sunday nursing his hangover while you got some cleaning done in your apartment.

“What you are doing here?” you demand again, anger replacing fear. “Can I send you to the shower or will you drown?”

“I’m not a good swimmer,” Frankie acknowledges ruefully as he clumsily rolls over in bed and attempts the next step of getting undressed: undoing his fly and getting his tight jeans off. “Here, baby, gimme a hand, you’re so good at this…” “You deal with it yourself,” you say sternly, in no mood to help. The whole idea of spending one night apart was to get a good night’s sleep – something you rarely get in the same bed as Frankie as both of you are usually too voracious for each other to think about sleep – and for you not to have to worry about a hung-over boyfriend the following morning. On top of that, you’re furious with him for scaring the shit out of you by stumbling in at three in the morning. You almost regret giving him a key but then again: if he didn’t have one it could have been even worse, he could have gone full on Stanley Kowalski outside your window.

“Ah, baby, c’mon… Don’t be like that. Help an old man out.”

Frankie tilts his head up and looks at you with imploring eyes, upside down from you. Half of him is hanging outside the bed and the rest is slipping off, and he looks like he might fall asleep any second. You might as well help him before he goes limp and ends up on the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter and crawl over to his side of the bed before climbing out. As you bend over to pick up his legs and lift them onto the mattress, Frankie manages to slap your ass.

“Baby. Hey, baby. Let’s have sex.”

“Not gonna happen.”

You unzip his jeans and yank them down carelessly, pulling Frankie down the bed in the process.

“Whoa, wild thing,” he murmurs thickly, his eyes falling shut. “Careful of the joystick, you don’ wanna damage that or you won’ be able to fly anymore…”

You don’t bother with an answer, he’s not going to remember it anyway. You help him off with the t-shirt as well and when you’re about to tuck him in, he grabs you by your wrist with a move much quicker than you had thought him capable of in his state. He pulls you down over him, the other hand squeezing your ass.

“Sex,” he mumbles. “Love you, baby, and I wanna be in you fo’eva.”

You try to avoid the smelly, wet kisses that he keeps pressing to your neck and shoulder. While you can appreciate him being horny for you in any situation, you’re still mad about him being here at all.

“You need sleep and I want it,” you tell him as you squirm out of his hold. Returning to your side of bed, you ignore the puppy eyes look he gives you as you turn off the lights.

“Not sleepy,” Frankie protests weakly before he’s out cold. He starts to snore loudly and you sigh in exasperation.

You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.

You barely sleep for the remainder of the night and when you finally give up and get out of bed, you're in a pissy mood. Not even two cups of coffee and the fancy bread rolls you bought at the bakery yesterday to treat yourself this Sunday morning make you feel better. You down a painkiller to combat the beginnings of the headache you feel creeping up on you before starting on your chore list. The clearing of the closets in the hall is the first task and you get to it, trying to find some satisfaction in the fact that you're getting your things in order.

As the hours pass by, you do your best to work around the tasks on your list that would generate noise, such as vacuuming. You may be pissed at Frankie but you're decent enough to let him sleep for a little while longer. However, you finally face the fact that if you're to get everything done in time for you to actually enjoy the rest of your day off and open that novel you've been dying to read, you're going to have to start the vacuum cleaer. If Frankie wanted to sleep until three pm he should have gone home.

When you turn off the vacuum cleaner, you hear Frankie groan in the bedroom.

“Babe?”

You're not really in the mood to talk to him but you go check on him, just in case he needs help to get to the bathroom. Nursing his hangover is the last thing you want to do today but you also don't want to clean up vomit.

He looks like a wreck with his hair standing out in every direction where it's not plastered to his skull, puffy eyes, and pale face.

“Morning.” Your tone is short but he doesn't seem to notice. He grunts and rubs his forehead with one hand, the other reaching out of bed towards you.

“C'mere. I wanna cuddle.”

“You smell,” you shake your head. “Get up already, I want to change the sheets.”

He groans again and retracts his arm, draping it over his forehead.

“One more minute. Or hour. It's so early and my head is killing me.”

“Not my problem, Frankie.”

Frowning, he looks at you, clearly bothered by the sunlight washing the room in light. You don't offer any explanations.

“Is there coffee?” he asks eventually.

“No.”

“Can you make some?”

“Make it yourself.”

He blinks at you, surprised.

“What's wrong, baby?”

You go to the other side of the bed, grab the pillow and start to take off the pillowcase.

“Just get out of bed. I have shit to do.”

Frankie sits up slowly, his head clearly bothering him when he moves from a horizontal recline to a vertical seat. He takes a moment, eyes closed and hand on his bare, soft stomach, before looking up at you.

“What's up with you?”

There's a hint of accusation in his voice and that does it for you. You slam down the pillow onto the bed and cross your arms in front of your chest as you glare at him.

“You scared the shit out of me last night, Frankie! I thought I was being burglared!”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he mumbles, his apology meaning nothing to you because you can clearly see that he doesn't understand the terror you felt last night.

“We agreed that we'd spend the night apart, what the hell did you come here for and ruin my sleep and my morning?” you demand, raising your voice a little despite yourself. Frankie hates yelling. “Did you think I'd take care of you, tip-toe around you all day, serve you coffee in bed and junk food on the couch while you get to feel sorry for drinking too much?”

“What, no, what are you – “ Frankie seems utterly confused, the state of him most likely partly to blame. “Can you please keep your voice down?”

You pull at the duvet, stuck partly underneath him. “Move.”

“Jesus...” he mutters as he slowly gets out of bed. He stands still for a moment as if to recalibrate as he adjusts his boxers, before sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom. You strip the bed and as soon as Frankie's out of the bathroom and heading into the kitchen, you take the sheets to the washing-machine and start it. And just because you're feeling like a bitch, you throw Frankie's clothes out of the bedroom, letting them land on the floor, before vacuuming.

When you're stowing away the vacuum cleaner into the cleaning closet, Frankie confronts you. He's now dressed but that doesn't help his half-dead appearance.

“Why are you being like this?” He's still struggling to understand you. It's typical Frankie: he always tries to talk about things, bring clarity into every issue.

“Like what? What am I like?"” You're being a brat, you know, but you have no desire to be an adult right now. Frankie really doesn't seem to understand: the frown seems permanently etched into his face and he looks so different from his usual soft, easy-going self.

“Mean. You're being mean!” The last word comes out harshly and you can tell Frankie's losing his customary cool.

“So when I have plans to spend a day apart from you and be my own person, I'm being mean?” you spit. He looks at you like you're suddenly speaking in a foreign language.

“What are you even talking about?” The exasperation is plain to see, and it somehow makes you even angrier.

“This isn't your mama's bed and breakfast that you can just check into whenever you feel like it, Frankie!”

“Fuck,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can't deal with this right now.” He pulls out his phone. “I'm getting an Uber.”

“Good!” you quip. “Fuck off home, like you should've done at three in the fucking morning!”

Without waiting for a reply, you stomp into the bedroom and slam the door. A few seconds later, you hear the front door slam as well.

[+++]

Sorry I showed up unannounced in the middle of the night. I just missed you. Didn’t want to go home and sleep without you. Call me, okay? I Love you.

You stare at the text message and feel bad, no, not bad: really fucking awful. It took you a few hours to calm down; hours that you spent playing angry music while finishing your list of chores. Afterwards, you didn’t feel that satisfying sense of accomplishment you usually experience after a good cleaning. Your head still hurt, so you went to your newly made bed which smelled fresh and nice even with the spread on top. You slept until late afternoon and woke up by the beep signaling the text.

You’re conflicted. The fact that he missed you is so sweet but there’s something about the statement that annoys you. He’s a grown-ass man, for chrissakes, and he should be able to be without his girlfriend for one single fucking night. And then guilting you into calling him with I-love-you’s and his fragile feelings? Fuck that noise.

And still. You know what Frankie’s like: physical, devoted, kind. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever been with. Not like your last boyfriend, who would pull shit like this all the time: show up at your place at all hours of the day (or night) whenever he wanted something from you. Sex. Comfort. Sympathy. Who would text and call you all the time when you were out with friends because he couldn’t find his way to the fridge without your help.

Reluctantly, you hit the speed dial button to Frankie, and he picks up almost immediately, saying your name with barely contained urgency.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hi. You okay?” Such a Frankie thing to do, make sure you’re okay after a fight where, technically, he’s the injured party.

“Not really. You?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You mean the hangover or this morning?”

You hear the smile in his voice. “Both, but I meant the hangover.”

You exhale in an amused little sniff.

“I’m sorry, Frankie. Do you… wanna come over?”

“I’d love to. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Neither have I. I’ll pick something up. Burgers from that place you like?”

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of burgers but you’re more concerned with the sudden tears that rise in your eyes. Oh, Frankie.

“That would be great,” you manage, wiping at your eyes. Get a fucking grip!

“Parmesan fries?” he queries, but all he gets from you is a sob. “Baby?”

“I love you,” you sniffle. “You’re the best.”

“Aww, babe. I love you, too.”

You draw a deep breath to calm down, a little embarrassed at your emotional outburst. It’s not like you, but it’s been a weird day.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Pepsi Raspberry for you?”

You start crying.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Anniversary (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: Claire and Ethan celebrate their anniversary.

Warnings: Alcohol, tiny allusion to the adult situations, the rest is so fluffy I’m gonna die.

A/N: You may ask yourself “Does Perrie have any self control when it comes to fics?”. And the answer is ‘no’. Always a ‘no’.

It was a rare sight, two doctors walking home from work at noon. Their hands were full. Literally. After leaving the hospital, they stopped by the store to get everything they’d need for the next two days and they got a little too excited on their shopping spree. Two bags of food, swinging slightly from Ethan’s right hand, and a bottle of expensive wine, held tightly in Claire’s left. Fingers of their unoccupied hands were tangled loosely, and they walked closely together, not wanting to take up too much space on the sidewalk.

“How did Naveen even pull this off?” she asked, turning her head towards him slightly.

“I think we have your friends to thank. They volunteered to take our patients, not even Bloom could argue with that.”

“They’re your friends too, you know?” Claire teased, pressing a kiss to his arm. The gesture made him smile thoughtfully.

“I… suppose can agree with that.”

The apartment was bright when they walked in, curtains pushed back to let in the sunlight. Claire left the wine on the counter, stretching her arms above her head with a broken sigh. Meanwhile Ethan, even though he still held two heavy bags, watched her with wonder. She fit right into the picture of his home, like she’s always been there. He wanted her to be there – all the time.

He set the bags down in the kitchen, then turned towards the cabinet to grab two glasses. The burgundy liquid set a shadow, tinting the white marble red. Ethan passed his girlfriend a glass, smirking at her surprised expression.

“It’s noon.” Claire argued, eyeing him suspiciously as she accepted the drink.

“It’s happy hour somewhere.” He shot back, taking a slow step towards her. “And besides, it’s our anniversary – we have to start celebrating sometime.”

They clinked their glasses, taking a sip. Claire eyed him, her finger tracing the rim of her glass, which she set down on the table, humming under her breath. Climbing onto the tips of her toes, she pressed her palms to his cheeks and kissed him gingerly.

“Happy anniversary.” She whispered against his lips, giving him a vivid smile. Ethan couldn’t fight a smile of his own if he wanted to – and he didn’t, because he was happy like he’s never been before.

Brushing his thumbs up and down the column of her neck, he whispered right back. “Happy anniversary.”

Slowly, the day progressed. Two people moved around the apartment together with the comfort of a pair that’s been doing this for years. When the time came for them to begin cooking dinner, Ethan immediately sat her down on the counter, having assumed that she’d want to watch.

She didn’t.

Almost immediately, she jumped onto the floor, scratching his forearm with her nails as she declared that she wanted to help. They divided tasks and got to work, sipping on their wine. Claire got through her tasks without a hitch, wandering over to Ethan to look into the pot. The strong aroma of spices wafted over them, filling the room with warmth and comfort.

She stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against the shell of his ear. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Wordlessly, Ethan watched her walk away from his side, a hint of a smile present in his eyes. Not for the first time, he realized that not having her in his life wasn’t an option anymore. He simply had to have her by his side, nothing less would do.

The sun illuminated her, bringing out the freckles on her face. Amplifying the highs and lows of her strands of hair that brushed the skin of her neck with every move she made. She was glowing – his very own ray of light.

As soon as their dinner was on its way to be done and could be left unsupervised for a moment, he joined her by the sink. His arms wrapped around her, their bodies fitting like two puzzle pieces. The feeling of familiarity came back with a breathtaking force, squeezing his heart.

In that moment, he felt invincible. In that moment, he felt like everything was possible. Because she made him see that everything was possible.

In that moment, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“I love you.” he muttered into her ear, barely above a whisper – the moment too fragile to break with anything louder than that. Claire didn’t freeze in his arms, just slowly grabbed the towel to dry her hands, then turned around in his arms so she could face him.

Her eyes were shining with emotions so powerful that he felt as though she put all this force into his heart and made it beat again, faster than before. Ethan smiled – a blinding and beautiful smile that he kept hidden from all but her. He leaned down, pressing their foreheads together so he could remain in their little personal bubble, his eyes never losing hers.

“I love you.” he repeated a bit louder, voice full of certainty and faith. His hand cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone so softly, it seemed as though he was scared she’d break. But she wouldn’t, he knew she wouldn’t.

“Ethan…” she whispered as her hands traveled up his back and onto his shoulder blades, her words shaky but filled to the brim with affection. It felt right, like they were finally in the right place, at the right time. Everything coming together to form a perfect picture. Her green eyes stared into his blue ones, searching for any sign of fear. She found nothing but love.

“I love you.” once more, he said it, his lips brushing against hers as he did. Now that he started saying it, he couldn’t stop. He would never stop – as long as she wanted him around, he’d always tell her just that.

“I love you too.” Claire mused, tilting her head upwards, their lips meeting in a breathtaking kiss. Their bodies were already close, so much so that they didn’t think they could get any closer. Still, his arms, looped around her waist, tightened their hold, hauling her onto him with enthusiasm she’s seen in him only a handful of times before. With a giggle, she threw her arms around his neck and nuzzled her nose against his.

“Again.” he bit her lip playfully, voice deep and velvety.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I. Love. You.” she punctuated every muse of a word with a kiss, leaning back against the counter and pulling him onto her.

Ethan’s hands grabbed her hips, using them as leverage to hoist her up onto the counter. Claire shrieked in surprise, laughing at his carefree behavior. Standing between her legs, he kissed her again, taking a deep breath of relief. There was nothing that could potentially stop him from losing himself in her.

Except for the insisting sound of the pot that demanded their attention.

With a disappointed sigh, he let her go, rushing to check on their food. She observed him, amused, but didn’t dare to move a muscle. Seconds later, he returned to her arms, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Not the best time?”

“I’m afraid so. But think about it this way.” she giggled, running her fingers through his hair. “We have two days before we have to go back to work. And I already told everyone to not contact us until then.”

“They’ll all think we didn’t leave the bed for two days.” Ethan argued halfheartedly, his lips now pressing soft kisses to the juncture between her neck and shoulder. A shiver ran down her spine at the sensation.

“Will they be wrong?”

“Absolutely not.”

It was far later in the afternoon when they finished dinner and retired to the couch for some much-needed rest. For the past hour or so, the screen of the TV was occupied by some show neither knew the title of. Neither could also say what the show was about, as they very much preferred talking to each other and finishing the bottle of wine they bought.

Claire stood up and headed towards the kitchen to grab a second one from his liquor cabinet, just lightly tipsy. She returned not long after, placing both the wine and the bottle opener on the table, then turned towards her boyfriend with a smirk full of mischief.

She extended her hand wordlessly, wiggling her fingers. He eyed her palm, then her, suspicious of her sudden idea, but found nothing that stopped him from joining her in the middle of his living room.

His own movements were slightly off balanced as he himself was intoxicated, but nevertheless, his arms embraced her and pulled her closer, holding her gently as they began to sway. Claire pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“There’s no music.” He pointed out, looking down at her with a crooked grin. The light of the late afternoon enhanced the features of her face, giving her green eyes a golden hue. She hugged him tighter.

“I don’t need music.” Claire muttered, kissing his jaw and snaking her hand up towards the back of his neck.

“Then it’s perfect.” Nodding, he let her guide his head a bit lower so that their foreheads would touch. With a smile, he added. “Because I don’t need it either.”

Notes

Once again, thank you so much for being here, every single one of you. It’s a privilege to be able to create for you, I can’t stress this enough <3

Time to go back to my corner and cry some more. Or write smut, who knows. Well, I do, but that’s beside the point.

Tagging separately

[softcallofdutyimagines]

The Bad Ending | Woods Didn't Survive the Crate

Welcome to the first installment of my Halloween month one shots! The title is pretty self explanatory, as they all will be.

Let's be honest, that's a long time to be deprived of water.

Tw: major character death (obviously), heavy angst, and semi graphic description of wounds

Not a single ray of light pierces the rusted out crate he's wasting in.

The only way he has any sense of day or night is when the metal all around him becomes too hot to lean on. Burns cover his back and shoulders, with no chance of relief or healing. Can't see them, but God can he feel them.

Pain doesn't bother him too much, but nothing could prepare one for the stench in this place.

Mutilated, piled up corpses of his fellow troops lay all around him in the pitch black dumpster. The darkness is disorienting enough, but how he's gotten so use to the smell is anyone's guess. He's been here for so long, he hardly notices it most of the time.

It's only when the sun microwaves them all inside this living hell that he feels the urge to be sick.

If only he could manage even that.

Woods lifts his arm off the hot metal and drops it onto his lap. He's been in here for days easily, perhaps almost a week.

No food.

No water.

And his skin... His skin feels tight, too tight, at all times. Like he's covered in plastic and itching to tear it off already.

What little water, if any, was left in the canteens on the corpses of his friends has all been consumed.

His mouth is completely dry to the point that he can feel the leathery texture of his tongue and all that it touches. His pores are burning, surprisingly not just from the heat. He thinks his body is trying to cool off and just sweat, but he simply has no more fluid to give.

He feels mummified in his own body.

Last time he checked, he could tell apart each rib just with his fingers. He's never been this skinny in all his life. Even his muscles seem to be gone, wasted away like everything else in this mass grave.

Wood's head falls back again the metal walls. He's too tired to hold it up anymore. His back is starting to singe from the heat, but he hopes maybe he'll go under again and get to escape it all.

Every day he's been holding on for rescue. Mason would never leave him. Not like this...

He doesn't know how much longer he can hold on, but hope is all he has left.

His eyelids drop, and his chest starts to heave. Fuck, he doesn't even have enough in him to cry.

Those same words echo back to him over and over again. Not like this, not like this... After all he's been through. After all he's planned out for his life. This is how he goes out?

Alone, while nothing but the tortured bodies and nightmarish memories of the past few months to keep him company.

A stream of liquid crawls down his cheek, and for a moment he almost feels hopeful that he isn't as dried out as he thought. A thought that's quickly squashed when the stream reaches his mouth. It's sour, thick and metallic tasting.

Blood.

But... once in a while, every now and then, he has a good dream. That one dream that takes him away from all the suffering...

Damn. As if he hasn't lost enough of that already.

His head starts to feel heavy again, like he's been awake for far too long. He lays back against the hot metal, but it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it usually does.

His dreams are filled with nightmares, nothing new there. All flashbacks of torture and brutality he and his squad suffered. Voices of the dead, and the smells of them too, haunt him constantly.

"You're gonna be alright, Frank"

The one where the rusty, fucking door opens. Where sunlight comes in, and just for once the sun is a welcome sight. It's warm and comforting instead of the fire that constantly scalds his skin.

There's no more reason to be afraid.

Alex came back for him, just like he knew he would.

That's what he says. Every time. And every time, he knows he means it. Mason would never let him down.

But the dreams keep coming, and every time they're just that. Dreams.

Every time, he wakes up to his tight, blistering skin and the rancid smell of the fallen.

Every time, he wakes up to pitch blackness, so much so that he often questions whether or not he's actually awake.

And every time, he knows more precious time has been lost while he slowly wastes away.

Come to think of it, he hasn't felt much of anything at all lately. Even his tongue hasn't been bothering him.

He's been falling sleep more often lately. Or maybe he's been passing out. What little track of time he's been able to keep seems to have totally vanished. He hasn't felt his back being fried in quite some time now.

Funny how that's the only way he can keep track of the daytime.

The only thing keeping him awake is the feable shivers jolting through him. When did it get so cold?

He's pretty sure he's never called for help out in the field in his life. But by now, it's too late. His throat is so dry, it hurts just to breath. Speaking isn't much better.

He can hardly get a word out. It's the same one every time.

"M-Ma... Mason?"

For the first time since he got stuck in this box, a thought occurs to him. Maybe help isn't coming.

No. No, he can't give up. Not now. This can't be the end, he's not going out like this. He just has to hold on...

Just a little longer...

The door scrapes open as it always does. A blinding light floods in, just as it always does. Mason coughs and gags, clearly not as use to the corpses as he is. You know, by now he's nearly forgotten they're there.

He's having that dream again. The one where Mason saves him. Except, it seems distant, even in his own mind. As if the whole thing is taking place under underwater.

Sounds seem muted and far away. Colors are dull, and the face that he knows so well looks less and less like it should every time.

"Frank? Oh God, Frank!"

A tiny breath of relief, although he knows the whole scene's a lie, escapes him at the sound of that voice. Mason's voice sounds a million miles away, but Frank would recognize it anywhere.

This is always his favorite part.

Suddenly, another voice pipes up, "Over there!"

Woods tries to turn and see who it is, but the light is too bright and just the simple act of turning his head chokes him, his throat is so dry.

Mason wades through the bodies and holds either side of Woods' head in his hands. Woods suspects this is still a dream. It must be, because he can't feel a thing.

"Hey! Hey, stay with me Frank, stay with me! We're going to get you out of here"

Alex slides his arm behind Woods' back only to yank it away just as quick. His sleeve is soaked with blood and fluid from bursted blisters. Otherwise, his friend's skin feels like leather, it's been burned so badly.

How long has he been laying here?

Mason fights against the bile making it's way up his throat and tries again. Once he's got a good grip, he has to tear the Sargent off his metallic perch.

He tries not to notice the scorched fabric and flesh now hopelessly fused to the metal that's left in Frank's place.

At long last, he's carried into the sunlight. Woods was hoping it would get rid of the constant chill he's been having lately.

Mason rushes over to show Frank's condition to Hudson. He doesn't remember this part of the dream...

Hudson displays no emotion as he checks Woods' temperature, but the urgency and shock are radiating out of him is palpable, "We need to get him to evac. Now"

Woods can hardly make out the words Hudson's speaking. It sounds like nothing to him, just gargled murmurs. He's so tired, he just needs to rest...

Mason shakes him abruptly, he seems so... small as he lays limply in his arms. He calls his name, once and then again, all the time more urgently.

"Stay with me!"

There's something different in his voice. So raw, and yet so far away.

Woods cracks his eyes open. The light is so bright out here, he'd nearly forgotten what the sun looked like. He must have forgotten what the jungles is like too, everything seems dull and desaturated.

His vision is hazy, and everything seems to be floating and doubled. He feels weightless, even as his dry, cracked throat closes off again as he turns to look up at his friend.

"A-", Frank croaks. It takes all his strength just to lift his arm. He wants to reach for Mason's face, but he can't get it to rise more then a few inches from where it hangs. "A... Alex..."

Tears stream down Alex's face. Why does he look so worried? He's just so happy that he can see his friend's face so clearly again, at long last. He was afraid he'd forgotten what Mason looked like too.

"Sh, don't talk buddy, save your strength... We-we're al... almost there"

Frank's head drops. Save his strength? That's a good idea. God, he's so tired from just that. So, so tired...

He's glad that this dream was a good one, he's never had one so vivid. It's almost enough to hold him over until the real thing comes along. When Alex comes for him, he'll be waiting.

His eyelids fall shut, a strangely serene smile on his cracked, purple lips, even as Alex shouts his name and begs him to stay awake.

He can't hear the gunshots whizzing through the jungle. He can't feel the torn, bleeding chunks of skin dangling from his irreparably burned back.

Everything is so quiet.

Mason will save him. He just has to hold on...

"Frank! Frank, wake up! Please, not like this- Come ba..."

[mai-sau]

Prompt "give me attention" for kidnap family?

"haha, im gonna take it easy with prompts this time around, only a few hundred words -" cue spongebob title card "2.3k words later"

seriously tho thank you for the prompt!! (and sorry about the wait!) i had fun working on this one bc well i love any chance to write about this lil family of murderers and tiny bois :') hope u enjoy!!

Prompt: "Give me attention."

“Nelyo.”

“Nelyo.”

“Ne-”

Thump. Maedhros slammed his book shut. A puff of dust wheezed out from the crusty pages; Maglor could make out the swirl of particles flying about in the dim shafts of sunlight peeking into his brother’s study from windows that he was sure were clean at some point in their existence.

Said brother tossed a glare over to Maglor from the other side of his desk.

“You’re allowed to be here. Quietly.” Maedhros threw a pointed look towards the abandoned scroll in Maglor’s hands.

“But I’m so very lonely, Nelyo,” Maglor pouted, and dropped the scroll on the desk. The parchment rolled out towards Maedhros, whose face was fast approaching the same shade as his hair. “Besides, I’ve already taken care of all my correspondence for the day. Nothing much else to do, really, but seek out the company of my darling brother.”

“I’m older than you,” Maedhros grit out, rubbing his temple in terse little circles. Which one of them he was reminding Maglor couldn’t say.

“Only by a few years,” Maglor teased. He let the corners of his lip curl up - he was well aware this made him look like “a cat about to feast on the fattest saucer of milk it’s ever conned” according to his brother, and that was why he did it.

On top of that dusty old book, Maedhros’ fingers twitched. Got you.

“Come on, Nelyo,” he whined. “Give me attentiooon.”

Maedhros threw him a positively hateful look, but Maglor knew he wouldn’t throw him out just yet. By this point, Maglor liked to think he knew his brother well enough.

There were some things he didn’t, of course, and this was fine. When his brother would wake and traipse out to the courtyard in the dead of night, staring at the moon hungrily for hours and hours as if he would never glimpse its light amidst the pitch dark again; when one of the many elves around Amon Ereb would do something wrong - not when one of their craftsmen made the same excited little exclamation as Curvo used to, or hunters fletched their arrows just how Tyelko did, Maglor understood these, at least - but a request phrased too sweetly, an abrupt movement, a smile too wide, and Maedhros’ throat would tighten, his words clipped, before excusing himself to go lock himself in his room for an hour, or two, or three: these parts of his brother Maglor may never know.

But he knew much, or at least enough. A few months after they’d taken in the twins, Maglor had just finished mopping an explosion of jam on the dining floor and sweeping up the shards of what was once the hefty jar that contained it. He’d first gently let Elros know that if they wanted food, they need only ask; he’d then let him know that no, of course they wouldn’t cast him out for breaking the jam jar, with no small amount of tears or internal panic on either end of that conversation.

By the time Maglor slunk into Maedhros’ study that evening to go over reports from around the fortress, he was maybe a bit tired. When Maedhros told him to wait for just a few minutes while he wrapped something or other up, Maglor might’ve let slip a touch of petulance and no small amount of theatrics into his voice when he asked when his dear Nelyo could spare just a moment for his poor baby brother, simply wilting away from the neglect.

Maglor had frozen, fearful of what his second-most severe brother would have to say in response to - well, whining. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d let himself do so. Oh, he’d been quite the brat in Valinor, and used to be quite proud of that fact, thank you. Each and every one of his brothers’ last nerves practically had his name on it. But it seemed ever since they arrived here, it was as if they simply couldn’t afford the waste of time. Ribbing was a favored pastime of his in Aman, but Beleriand offered no such frivolities.

But living with the twins, putting on playful words and coaxing laughter from two young faces that Maglor couldn’t bear to see two seconds from breaking anymore, had apparently loosened his discipline.

He’d thought Maedhros would treat him to one of his signature frowns, barking at him that neither of them had time to make things any harder for each other, but instead he’d… laughed. Just the slightest huff of air, yes, but a laugh nonetheless. Maglor hadn’t heard his brother laugh since…

Well, if anything, he was honoring his cousin’s memory.

So Maglor experimented over the years, let a few more teases and whines slip into his day-to-day interactions with Maedhros. His brother had since mustered a valiant effort to act annoyed, but Maglor could still catch a muffled chuckle or smothered grin here and there.

So. All in all, he’s sure he knows his brother pretty well at this point, and Maedhros was not troubled (bad), just bothered (good).

Which, of course, meant they could continue to play; Maglor would show no mercy.

“Please? Please, please? Just a smidgen of tender love and care from my dearly beloved big brother?” Maglor asked, eyes wide and pleading, hands clasped in front of him as he leaned over the desk. His hair, inky black, spilled all over his scroll.

Maedhros’ nose twitched. His right ear flicked. Oh yes. He was close to a chuckle now, he could tell. His dearly beloved big brother stood no fucking chance.

“Oh dear Eru, let my brother pay attention to - MANWË’S TITS!” Maglor shrieked, springing up from his seat after spotting a dark shadow peeking through the window.

His brother whirled around. Quick as a viper, his hand darted out to grasp the hilt of his sword. Despite this, Maglor could hear a choked noise he was more than halfway certain was the chuckle he had so desperately hunted. Oh well.

A chubby face stared right back at them, eyes round as saucers. Wait, make that two faces.

Both Maglor and Maedhros sagged with relief.

“Elros, can you please come in?” Maglor croaked, feeling five feet to the left of his physical body. “You too, Elrond.”

The two of them nodded bashfully, heads bobbing as they fumbled over to the glass. And they were… flapping. Each twin sported small brown wings on their back, looking much like the falcons Tyelko used to play with as a child. Maglor supposed, thinking of a great bird soaring away over the sea with light itself clutched tight in its talons, maybe they should have expected this one in particular.

Elros pushed once, twice at the windows, tiny arms straining against the pane and looking more panicked by the second. Behind him, Elrond simply pointed to the - oh, the window latch. Yes.

Maedhros stood up and flicked it open. Elros came tumbling through, nearly bashing his skull on the desk before Maedhros caught him midair.

Elrond flew in smoothly and landed on Maglor’s empty chair, wings neatly folding in. Maedhros dumped Elros on his own chair. His wing smacked Maedhros’ arm by mistake.

“We talked about this. No new shapeshifting without me or Maglor there,” Maedhros said, fixing each of them with a stern look.

Both the twins looked down at this. Elrond wrung his little wrists.

“We’re sorry!” Elros burst out, tears welling up in his eyes. “We won’t do it again, promise!”

“That’s what you said last time, sweetheart,” Maglor told him.

“And the time before that,” Maedhros grumbled.

“What we’re saying, dear, is that we understand that you’re sorry. But keeping your word has to take first priority,” Maglor explained softly.

Maedhros coughed.

“Or, er, not doing it again,” Maglor corrected. “That’s what counts.”

“We understand,” Elros sniffled. “It’s just, we wanted to hear, but you weren’t there to check with, because well, you were here, and, well, um, yes -”

“Bringing us to the next point of order,” Maedhros rumbled. He raised a brow at both of them. “Eavesdropping. We have also been over this.”

Oh dear. Elros looked like he was about to drown in a puddle of tears. Maglor rubbed a hand between his shoulder blades soothingly, careful of the new feathery appendages.

Thankfully, Elrond stepped in. “We remember, it’s not nice because we like to be in private sometimes and it’s not fair for us to not let other people be too,” he recited shyly. “Um, we just… we know you both meet up a lot like this, and we know it's important… but… um…” His lip trembled; his voice cracked. “Do you... talk about us? Do you not want us to hear because it’s bad? Because we can do better!” He promised quickly, eyes wide and wet. “Elros is getting really good at his music lessons, he’s practicing a lot! And I’m working on my writing lessons every day!”

Something in Maglor’s chest twisted. “Oh, honey, no -”

But his brother beat him to the punch. Striding out from behind the desk, he knelt down in front of Elrond. “Can I hug you?” he asked very quietly.

Elrond bit his lip and nodded. Without another word, Maedhros wrapped him up in his arms.

They stayed like that for a moment, Maedhros’ hulking frame wrapped around Elrond’s body, like a drape of russet locks, leather and rich furs. When his brother finally pulled away, he gave a heavy look to both children.

“We will never give you away because you’re not good enough. Alright? You will always be good enough. Both of you,” he told them. He reached out and covered Elrond’s tiny hand with his own, fingers curling around and intertwining. “And not because you’re caught up on your lessons, or do what we say.”

“Though those are certainly nice,” Maglor added. He flashed them a teasing grin before taking care to soften his expression once more, and laid a gentle hand on Elros’ shoulder. “You will always have our love. And nothing, not even the worst jam spill, or missed harp lesson - don’t think I didn’t notice that last week, dearest - can ever reach in and steal it. It is your’s by blood and birthright.”

“Love you,” Elros sniffled. Elrond echoed him, voice no less wobbly.

Maedhros gifted them with a small smile. “Love you both, starlights.”

“And -” Elros started, hiccuped, and continued. “And same for me too. Nothing can change that! I’ll always love you two.”

Maglor felt a pang of sickly guilt invade his chest and looked away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maedhros stiffen.

“Me too,” Elrond said, voice suddenly clear. Maglor glanced at him and met a gaze that seemed years ahead of its time; he froze, rooted to the spot. “We’ll always love you no matter what you do.”

“Well -” Maglor started. “That’s…”

“No need to worry about us,” Maedhros recovered quickly, waving his hand. “Now then, it’s nearing bedtime, hm?”

“But wait!” Elros cried. “What were you two talking about then?”

“Yes! We saw Atya going like this,” Elrond clasped his pudgy hands together and shook them. “And his voice sounded all funny, and then he prayed to Eru about Atar paying more attention to Manwe’s t-”

“ALRIGHT!” Maglor yelped, clapping his hands. His face must’ve been steaming, his cheeks were burning, oh stars - “Bedtime!”

“But we want to know why you were saying all those funny things,” Elros complained loudly. His voice slipped into a high pitched whine, dripping with petulance. “Nelyo, Nelyo, give me attentioooon -”

“I do not sound like that!” Maglor gasped, scooping up a giggling Elrond to be carried to bed.

“I do not sound like that!”

Maglor turned around, gaping. That was not Elros’ voice.

Maedhros stared back. His eyes glinted with mirth and the most shit-eating grin curled his lips. In his arms was a starstruck Elros, who looked no less shocked than if the clouds themselves had just burst into song and danced a lively jig. And quite frankly, Maglor would be less surprised.

Maedhros dealt him one last smirk before twirling on his heel and walking out of the room to go deposit one elfling in his bed. Maglor still had the other, who poked his cheek.

“Atya? Are you okay?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Maglor felt a smile grow across his face. His eyes stung with tears. He quickly wiped them with his sleeve before they could fatten and spill over his cheeks and probably make Elrond worry even more.

“Wonderful, dear.” He frowned for a second, considering. “Although I think there is a dreadful amount of mockery in my future.”

He looked down at Elrond. His son merely tilted his round head, offering a blank look. Maglor sighed happily. “But that’s okay.”

XXX

In time, it became clear that there was no need to worry about the looming threat of brotherly teasing paid back in full; Maedhros may have been looser with his laughter, but even this was a rare occasion still. Maglor did not mind, for any time he saw his brother’s eyes alight with anything other than fatal passion was a gift.

The true threat that lurked within Amon Ereb made itself known eventually.

Two weeks later, Maglor was scurrying to meet up with one of the smiths to discuss pending repairs but stopped short in front of a small figure in the courtyard blocking his path.

“Not now, sweetheart, Atya’s very busy,” Maglor told Elrond, harried, ready to flag down someone on the way to attend to whatever his son needed.

And then it happened. Elrond’s face crumpled just so. His eyes widened: big, round, and wet. His lip wobbled. When he opened his mouth, his voice took on a tone so absolutely, horribly pitiful that Maglor half-suspected the echo of Lúthien herself lived in his words.

“Please, Atya,” he begged, every word a death sentence. “Give me attentiooon.”

Oh Eru, Maglor despaired, even as he opened his arms for an evil little elfling to leap into, repairs forgotten. I’ve made a monster.

[azucanela]

Could you do another Sokka with the fire nation reader and maybe something domestic? Something after the war potentially? Please and thank you!!!

SERENE SHORES | SOKKA X READER

SUMMARY: after years of chaos, Y/N can’t help but feel weird when everything is peaceful. but hey, weird can be nice. especially when weird is with sokka.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: kissing, soft, pretty basic.

A/N: this is gonna be the least heartbreaking thing i’ll ever write super domestic 10/10 soft. also it feels wrong to not write something thats like 10k words of pining askhdkjsah also this is weirdest title ever im sorry

The sun poured into the room, indicating that Sokka had in fact, awoken, and opened the curtains, much to Y/N’s dismay. They were on vacation and yet he still insisted on waking up at the most ungodly of hours to work. Y/N had no doubt that he’d heard the whispers in the Southern Water Tribe, he’d done so much for the small nation that Y/N wasn’t shocked when rumors of Sokka potentially becoming the next chief came about. He was still young, but that didn’t stop people from talking, and maybe thats why he was putting so much pressure on himself.

But it was vacation, on Ember Island, alongside the rest of their friends. They’d agreed to head out later in the day together, to the beach to catch up with one another. Regardless, Y/N couldn’t help but groan, running a hand through her hair when she realized Sokka had gotten up early for no reason. Y/N had searched him prior to their departure to the island, ensuring he had no work at all, and yet here they were.

Sitting up in the bed, she stretched out her arms, allowing the sun to hit her face. Y/N squinted at the sudden brightness as she moved to stand, a wave of dizziness washed over her momentarily, causing her legs to wobble as she took her first few steps of the day. Y/N quickly recovered as she made her way outside of the room, bringing a hand to her forehead as she sighed. The Ember Island rooms were like small homes at this point, so Y/N wasn’t shocked to find Sokka in the kitchen, cutting up some fruits into the bowl. 

He looks up at her, a smile on his face as he put the knife down and tries his best to lean against the counter alluringly, only for his elbow to miss the edge of the counter. Sokka stumbles slightly, causing Y/N to laugh as she greets him, “hi there.”

“Hey, beautiful.” Sokka greets, recovering from his fall as he jogs over to press a kiss to her cheek, wrapping his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

Y/N hums in response, wrapping her arms around his torso, “why are you out of bed?” She presses a kiss to his jaw before resting her head on his chest.

“I was making breakfast, per usual.” Comes his reply. Y/N had found that Sokka was actually a great roommate, he tended to wake up early to handle his duties in the Southern Water Tribe. Which meant he’d cook breakfast for the two of them, and get his fair share of cleaning done. 

Y/N is pulling herself away from him to grab his hand and pull him towards the bedroom, “let’s go back to bed.” It was vacation, and they could probably order some sort of room service seeing as Ember Island was practically a resort.

“We have to meet the others later.” Sokka reasoned, resisting her aggressive yanks at his arm, feet remaining firmly planted on the floor.

Y/N playfully glares at him, “yeah, later. Not now, we have time. I don’t know why you woke up so early.” She’s scolding him, mostly because he’s been having trouble sleeping lately, and refuses to drink the tea she offered him. Iroh had kindly taught her how to make a ‘proper’ cup of tea, as he’d put it. 

“It’s midday.” He points out, causing Y/N’s eyes to widen a fraction, her eyes flickering over to the windows momentarily as she tries to understand how she managed to sleep well into the middle of the day.

Her mouth opens and closes for a moment, brows furrowing in confusion as she looks to Sokka, “are you serious?”

Sokka blinks once before throwing his head back in laughter, “yes!” 

With a rather aggressive tug at Sokka’s arm, Y/N pulled him closer bringing her free hand to his cheek as she pulled him in for a kiss. Sokka melted into it, bringing both his arms to hand loosely around her waist

It was peaceful. Watching him look so happy, the way the sunlight gleamed on his face as Y/N practically tackled him onto the bed, the bright smile on his face lit up the room more than the sun ever could. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen these things and she certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the last. And given how few threats of war and death and chaos there had been lately, Y/N had a feeling that she wouldn’t have to worry about losing Sokka to some insane enemy anytime soon. 

Y/N hated how weird it felt. Being able to relax for once because there’s no threat of impending doom, no need to be alert despite the habit she’d developed to always have a hand ready to grab the knife at her side. Y/N hated that she couldn’t allow herself a moment of peace even though there was nothing to worry about. 

Even when the war had ended, Y/N had to be on her toes for all the riots that started across the world. She and the rest of Team Avatar weren’t necessarily prepared for all the diplomatic work that had to be done to repair all the damage that had been done to the world during the 100 years of war. Aang had a lot of other issues to handle as the Avatar, Katara and Sokka had to work on rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe, Toph had to handle her parents though she had favored spreading the wonders of metalbending instead. Zuko was rebuilding the Fire Nation was simultaneously tearing down the century’s worth of brainwashing. And as for Y/N, she was just trying to figure out where she fit in to all this.

For the first time in a long time, nothing was going on. Y/N didn’t need to bring her weapons, and she didn’t need to look over her shoulder ever moment for potential enemies. And it felt weird.

They’d returned to Ember Island for a vacation, a reward to themselves for everything they’d done. And it had been a while since they’d been able to actually catch up, Y/N wouldn’t deny it, though they saw each other fairly frequently when it seemed the world was about to end, time to talk was rare. And now that they could talk, she didn’t know what to say.

Yeah, it felt weird.

Sokka’s arm had wrapped around her waist, and Y/N found herself watching as he threw his head back in laughter at something Toph had said. The girl in question seemed pretty pleased with herself, Zuko on the other hand was looking rather embarrassed. Not that Y/N was really paying attention to the conversation. They had gotten to the beach not too long ago, and Y/N had a feeling they would stay awhile, but she was a little busy getting lost in her own thoughts. 

Was it wrong of her to wonder what happened next now that they had entered what would —hopefully— be an era of peace? The only person who could probably remember such a time was Aang, seeing as he was born before the war started, officially started that is. 

Pushing away those thoughts, Y/N returned her attention to the conversation at hand, “you know what, the rest of you never grew up with Sokka’s whining in the mornings— Y/N knows what I mean, right?”

Y/N found herself straightening beside Sokka, “actually, Sokka cooks me breakfast in the mornings, and he’s surprisingly neat, so I have no complaints.” She lets out a small laugh, and Y/N can feel Sokka’s eyes on her figure as everyone else laughs once more.

“Thank you Y/N, see I can be a fantastic roommate.” Sokka asserted, throwing a playful glare to Katara as he squeezed Y/N’s side gently. She and Sokka had gotten together shortly after the war, and they’d been living together for a while. Seeing as they travelled together for over a year, there wasn’t really much of an adjustment period if Y/N was honest, and Sokka was a model roommate. 

Sokka sits up suddenly, causing Y/N to raise a brow at him as she shifts in her seat, only for him to extend a hand to her, “I’m going for a walk, wanna come?”

She takes his hand, offering him a smile as she sits up as well, “yes.” 

From the corner of her eye, Y/N can see Aang move to speak, only for Toph to swat at his chest when he tries to stand, and Katara to glare harshly. Zuko simply watches the interaction in confusion, brow furrowing as Katara beams up at the couple, “have fun!”

Sokka fought the urge to roll his eyes as he took Y/N by the hand and began to drag her away from the campsite. He’d noticed her behavior, something was bothering her. Of course, Katara was reading into things again, she and Gran Gran had grown a little obsessed in regards to his relationship with Y/N. Mostly because Gran Gran insisted that she had to live to see the wedding.

Oh god, Katara must’ve thought he intended to propose—

Y/N had gathered that much as well, it wasn’t something the two had discussed yet, mostly because they’d never had time. When they officially got together, everything was so chaotic they just never had the time, and now that they had the time, well neither of them had tried to broach the topic. Katara on the other hand seemed to continue her meddlesome ways, trying to put the idea into Y/N’s head time and time again during their conversations.

Y/N did not approve.

The pair walked silently across the coast line, water washing up against their bare feet as Sokka comically swung their hands back and forth, earning a small laugh from Y/N. She came to the realization that as badly as she wanted to avoid this conversation, it was necessary. Looking up at him, her brows furrowed as she spoke, “don’t let Katara... pressure you into anything, okay?”

Sokka frowned, pausing as he walked, “don’t tell me she’s been talking to you about-”

“Marriage.” They both muttered, simultaneously. The pair burst into laughter, and Sokka simply shook his head. Katara had obviously been discussing the subject with the both of them.

Sokka simply facepalms, and Y/N finds herself smiling as she watches him, “I’m sorry that she’s been bothering you about that, even though I told her not to.” He turns back to look at the camp, that’s still visible in the distance, Katara is giving him a thumbs up alongside Toph, though the young girl is facing the wrong direction. A show of support as he attempts to ‘propose’ to Y/N, though he didn’t intend to, not today at least. 

Y/N offers him a nervous smile, pulling his attention away from their friends as they continued to walk, “it’s fine.” Another silence consumes them, and Y/N finds herself biting her lip as her gaze returns to Sokka, “have you thought about it though?” 

“Marriage?” Sokka asks, looking to her with wide eyes, “of course, I have. But we’re still young...” He trails off, tilting his head at Y/N as he mumbles, “have you?”

She shrugs, looking to the horizon, where the sun is slowly disappearing and the night sky begins to reveal itself, “honestly? Not really, no.” Y/N can practically feel Sokka deflate beside her, and quickly continues, “not because I don’t want to marry you. I just... I don’t know I never had...”

“Time. To think about it?” Sokka offered when she trailed off. He understood, in a way. They weren’t able to think much of the future while on the run, mostly because the future was a luxury that they were unsure they’d ever get. 

Y/N simply looks to him, nodding slowly she can feel her cheeks warm as she exhales deeply. “I want to though.” Her voice is quiet, probably because its the first time she admitting it to herself, that she does want to marry Sokka. There was always a small part of her that wondered what that would be like, and maybe moving in with him solidified the idea in her mind. Y/N didn’t know.

Maybe it was cliché but Sokka had known since they’d met. 

“I’ve thought about it for a while.” He mumbles, fidgeting with her hand. 

A smile graces Y/N’s face as she raises a brow, “what have you thought about?” She can’t help but feel curious, she’s well aware of how meticulously he plans things, and if he’s thought about their potential wedding it means he not only sees her in his future, but he also likely spent a lot of time considering minor details about the wedding. 

Sokka’s eyes are glued to her hands as he responds, “you would look really pretty in a wedding dress.” If Sokka was honest, she looked pretty in everything, but the idea of marrying her? It had crossed his mind in the past, several times.

She’s never seen him this shy and subdued before, and Y/N can’t help but feel shocked at how soft his voice sounds when he speaks. So, she finds herself considering what this imaginary wedding would be like. Yet all she manages to say is, “I was thinking about how I would never get married on a beach.” 

A small laugh escapes Sokka, “you hate sand.” They’d learnt that the hard way the last time they were at Ember Island, just before the end of the war. Sokka had spent about an hour convincing Y/N to come down to the beach despite her hatred of sand. She ended up agreeing— more accurately being forced to head down to the beach seeing as Sokka practically threw her over his shoulder and carried her there. Y/N vividly recalled the violent words she’d yelled at him when he threw her into the ice cold water.

Y/N is laughing alongside him, nodding,  “I do.”

She’d be saying those words again, not too far in the future. And maybe this possibility is why Y/N decides that she likes this whole peace thing, standing on the serene shores of Ember Island. Life is good when you aren’t worried about impending doom all the time, and its even better with Sokka in it. Y/N wouldn’t mind spending the rest of her life with him.

“Let’s prank Katara into thinking you proposed.” She suggested, grinning at Sokka. If the girl was so insistent on meddling with their relationship, then why not get a little revenge?

Sokka seemed to like this idea, as his eyes iit up at her words, “I love you, so much.” He exclaimed, grabbing Y/N’s face with both hands and pulling her into a kiss. 

Y/N finds herself smiling into the kiss, pulling away to say, “I know.”

“You’re supposed to say it back.” Sokka is pouting now, trapping her in his arms as he awaits the response he wants. 

Y/N hummed in reply, a pensive look on her face as she pretended to consider his words, “I guess I love you too.”

“You guess?!”

Hopefully their honeymoon would be far less chaotic, and further away from sand. 

A/N: lol writing something happy when you are sad is not it so im sorry that this is bad but i tried 🥺

​

[berrydoodleoo]

spring is in the world

Title from ‘since feeling is first’. Chosen with Luna in mind, who in this AU has defied her fate and is no longer confined to parentheses. Read more about the art here, or have a short fic instead:

In hindsight, she shouldn’t have assumed things were going as well as they seemed. She had no great experience in taking lovers, after all, having devoted most of her thirty-odd years to fighting the Scourge in one form or another. She had lost so much time, first to her injuries after Altissa and the coma that had swallowed her for years, and then to the terrible fear and lethargy that gripped her once Ardyn was dead and her purpose in life (seemingly) fulfilled.

Not to mention that Noctis and Prompto were Lucian, whose upper-classes still ascribed to all sorts of prescriptive rules about romance and marriage. She should have been more vigilant -- Prompto in particular still regarded Noct and the sunlit world with nervousness bordering on dread, as if they might be ripped away from him at any moment. So what if she had danced with Noctis and Prompto at the ball held for the New Dawn’s first anniversary last week? So what if she had kissed Noctis outside her room, when he very courteously escorted her to her quarters? So what if Prompto had given her a gift of watercolor paints and cold-pressed paper at breakfast, asking with a flirty smirk if she had a model for her newest painting?

And most of all -- so what if they had made plans to celebrate Noctis’ birthday with a trip outside the city, where they would sleep (hopefully together) beneath the stars (her first test of her new resolve to walk in the dark without fear). So what? They hadn’t said anything out loud, hadn’t made any promises. She shouldn’t have assumed. She should never assume. It was such a terrible risk, forgetting to be afraid. She should have known….

It’s when she lays her hand over his, resting on Noctis’ chest, that she realizes they’ve been having two separate conversations. “He’s here to stay, Prompto,” she says, pressing gently. “I promise.”

“I know, I know.” Prompto clears his throat, forces a rough little laugh. “It’s not that.” He sniffs.

It gives her an ugly jolt to see him so distressed. They’d only been watching Noct sleep, praising his handsome features and planning how best to tease him when he awoke. Umbra is snoring cutely at Noctis’ side and Pryna is probably still in the field, chasing butterflies. Everything had seemed perfect.

Prompto glances skittishly at her frown and then begins to babble. “I just, uh -- got used to checking, you know? Making sure he hadn’t stopped breathing or started bleeding inside or something. It’ll, uh.” He shakes his head, tries to pull his hand away. “It’ll be weird not being able to check, you know, but I won’t -- I mean, I know you two -- I won’t get in the way, I won’t make things difficult, I promise--”

“Prompto,” Luna interrupts gently, struggling to follow. “I don’t understand what you’re--”

Prompto rakes his free hand over his eyes, smearing the hint of tears around. “You guys are gonna be great, you know?” He smiles bravely, props his head on his fist like they’re still chatting idly and he isn’t weeping openly. “You’ve waited for each other for so long. I guess destiny can be kind after all.” He tries to smile.

But he can’t keep the bleakness out of his eyes, and it’s clear that Prompto doesn’t believe any of this kindness has been reserved for him. “Prompto,” Luna bursts out, fumbling, confused, “are you -- breaking up with Noctis? Through me?”

Prompto recoils, or tries to; she still won’t let him get away. “O-of course not,” he stammers, “we weren’t -- I mean -- not really, we haven’t, not since -- he wouldn’t lie to you like that--”

Luna untangles this with some effort. “Do you mean you two aren’t together?” Confused, she reviews their interactions from the past few days, and then from the last time she saw them, after the final battle. “You haven’t been -- Prompto Argentum, you two haven’t been refraining because of me, have you?”

Prompto gapes at her. She gapes back.

“You have!” Astonished, Luna leans back to peer at the sky. “Why in the -- Prompto. Dear, dearest Prompto.” She checks on Noctis, in case their spirited conversation has woken him, but he sleeps on obliviously. She’ll have words with him later.

Prompto tries to sit up, retreat again, and this time Luna tugs him quite firmly back into place. “Don’t you dare,” she orders, and he freezes. “Prompto, you and Noctis love each other. You’ve been part of each other’s lives for so long, have supported and believed in one another through the worst of--” She finds she can’t find the words to continue, and tries again. “I would never, will never, seek to separate the two of you.”

Prompto’s lower lip is trembling. Luna starts to shift forward, cup his cheek, and then realizes such a gesture might be unwelcome. Dear gods, she has misread this. Such a fool she is. She’d thought--

“Quite the opposite,” she finally continues, quietly, despite the cold terror creeping through her veins. “So long as the two of you have one another, I may have peace in my heart, for I know that one good, true thing prevails.”

She blinks back a sudden flood of tears. Perhaps they don’t want her. Perhaps she doesn’t have a place with them after all. She wants her room, suddenly, her safe, prison-like room, where nothing joyful grows but nothing can hurt her, either.

“But you guys have been -- oh.” Prompto blinks rapidly, and then starts to redden. “Oh. Is this a, uh, Tenebrean thing? Like the triad thing? Oh man, is this what Iggy was trying to -- oh, man.”

Luna can’t help it; she bursts into damp, semi-hysterical giggles, despite the icy shake in her guts. Prompto smiles up at her blurrily, and then starts to laugh as well.

“Man,” he says again, suddenly beaming, eyes still tear-reddened. “He is gonna give me so much crap about this. I am literally never gonna live it down. Wow.” He takes a deep breath and squeezes her hand tenderly, overwhelmed. “Is this really -- you might have to -- I am really oblivious sometimes, but uh, I guess you know that now.” He laughs again, edged, at himself.

Luna starts to nod, changes to shaking her head, and then feels hot, wet tears dripping down her face. She’ll feel foolish later. Prompto sits up, and this time she lets him, because he’s moving to lean closer, cup her face and wipe her tears away.

“Luna,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I misunderstood.” She presses his rough, large hands to her cheeks and feels herself crumple a little more. “No,” he continues. “No, please don’t cry. I can’t -- I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Luna takes a deep breath. She isn’t been rejected. You aren’t being rejected, she reminds herself. “No, no,” she says wetly, “I shouldn’t have assumed--”

She stops herself. She’s making an effort to reprimand herself less these days. She is trying so hard to be better. And in a fight for blame, she suspects she and Prompto could go round and round until the sun went down and never came up again, but that isn’t what she wants. For either of them.

Luna takes a deep breath. She refuses to start their relationship in a spiral of apologies and self-blame. She doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to open the door to a rolling world of yellow suns and indigo skies and, eventually, gentle nights that fill her with wonder and comfort instead of fear. She wants to let go of the fear and her desperate need for control -- she wants to be free, a part of the world for the first time in her life.

So instead of berating herself, she grips his hands in hers and lets their combined grip rest against their (still sleeping, seriously, Noct?) king’s chest. Umbra is watching them with interest, she notes. And then she takes another breath.

“Prompto,” she says, falling back on an old, formal proposal from a romantic show she used to watch, as a teenager confined within Fenestala Manor. “Will you grant me the honor of your affection and presence, and keep a place for me in your heart?”

Prompto’s lovely eyes widen, full of hope and delight. Pure sunlight. He’s grinning and she’s breathless. All further words fly from her mind.

His fingers squeeze hers as he leans forward for a kiss, and then another, tentative turning into playful, his smile slotting sweetly against hers again and again. Blindly, her hands work themselves free to touch his cheeks, his throat, the rasp of his short beard. He retreats for a quick breath, tracing her lips with hot, hooded eyes, and then devours her mouth in a kiss that raises her onto her knees, toes curled and body tingling. Oh, oh, oh--

“Hey,” Noctis grumbles, exactly like a grumpy cat awoken from a nap. “Uh, did I miss something? I thought we were waiting till my birthday.”

Prompto gasps, wrenching away. “That’s what that’s all about?” he demands shrilly, and Luna bursts into giggles. “The camping trip? Oh my gods, Gladio’s gonna kill me--”

Noctis pushes himself up his elbows, squinting and scowling with the sun in his eyes. “What? You seriously didn’t know?” He sits up, absently guiding Luna to sit at his side in a way that makes her heart warm. “Thought you were kidding about that.”

“--never gonna hear the end of this, crap--”

Noctis looks to Luna, about to ask something -- probably ‘what on Eos is happening right now, I was only asleep for thirty minutes’ -- but then his expression changes and he makes a wise choice of priorities. “Uh, Luna? Pryna’s after the cheese again.”

Luna yelps and Pryna yips, betrayed, and the dog knocks the picnic basket over in her haste to escape her mistress, wedge of cheese clamped firmly in her jaws. Prompto dives to catch her -- “I’ve got her!” -- but he doesn’t. Noct fails to catch him and he lands on their legs, trapping them. Umbra runs in circles and barks for the sheer, chaotic joy of it. Pryna devours her stolen prize. And in the sunlit field, with her loves bickering and playing at her side, Lunafreya laughs until she cries for the first time in her life.