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starboyshoyo · 2 years

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The Summer After Graduation

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Deuce Spade, Trey Clover, Epel Felmier x fem!reader (separately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: Fluff, domestic

Warnings: suggestive jokes, nothing inappropriate.

It’s the summer after graduation and the beginning of the rest of your life. After moving to your boyfriend’s hometown and living with his family, you begin to realize that there may be a future in Twisted Wonderland for you after all.

Part One (HERE) || Part Two (Malleus, Silver, Sebek)

Four years have passed since the Dark Mirror beckoned you forth. Your time at Night Raven College and as the Ramshackle prefect have come to an end. You and your high school sweetheart have made the decision to move back to their hometown and build a new life together, starting with the summer after graduation…

Kalim Al-Asim

‘The Asims are a generous family that love and cherish their son and future daughter-in-law. In tradition with our past, you and your lover will spend the summer at Port Ormos, a seaside village off the coast of the Land of Scalding Sands. Don’t worry about transport or living situation- it will all be taken care of for you. We love you, Kalim, and we’re so proud of you for graduating!’

That’s what the letter from Kalim’s mother and father to him read. Right after graduating from NRC, you and your boyfriend were swept up in a gaggle of servants and guards. Jamil had packed all of your belongings already, and a bashful Kalim informed you that you were on your way to something he referred to as the ‘Asim pre-honeymoon vacation.’ It’s a tradition in my family for newlyweds to spend some time together at the village, he laughed. I guess they were just super excited to know I had someone as wonderful as you by my side, and got a little hasty! I hope you don’t mind.

With that, you were off through the magic mirror and on your way to your new summer home.

Kalim’s parents weren’t kidding when they said everything would be taken care of. Not only had servants transported all of your things neatly and carefully to the Asims’ manor overlooking the town, but a parade and festival had been thrown in honor of your arrival. Why, you might ask? Because the Asims owned the entirety of Port Ormos. You knew they were wealthy, but this was a whole other level.

Immediately upon arrival, Kalim was dragging you into various shops and restaurants around town. Each time you walked through a door, you would be greeted warmly by eager staff and ushered in to have a look at their finest goods. Point to any one you like, and an attendant will be by your side, packing it into a bag for you or loading it up to carry it back to the manor. Only the best for Lady Asim, you hear managers whisper to their employees.

In fact, it seemed like everyone in the harbor town treated you like you were part of the Asim family already, even though you were an ordinary student at Night Raven College not even a week ago. For the duration of the trip, you would take on the family name and honored titles. You don’t miss the happy, flustered grin that Kalim gives you every time someone calls you Miss Asim or Lady Asim. You’ve even caught him browsing jewelry shops for rings on more than one occasion… What could he be planning?

Jamil, as usual, had been chosen to accompany you and Kalim on this trip. However, he wasn’t staying with you two in the manor- he and his own family had been given a beachfront home to stay in. While Jamil did check on you and Kalim from time to time, he mostly gave you your space, and for good reason. His eyes were still scarred from the time he walked in on you two in the dressing room… He’ll stay in his own home, thank you very much.

Mornings in the harbor town with your boyfriend are much like those in Scarabia dorm, but with a lot more privacy. Kalim likes to sleep in late, and get up whenever he feels like it. So you two will be cuddled up in bed together for a while, even after waking up. If you do try to leave early you’ll be met with arms looped around your waist, and a sleepy Kalim mumbling in your ear, five more minutes? By the time you manage to roll out of bed, it’ll be noon.

Your room in the mansion is just as luxurious as you could expect from the Asim family- a king-size bed with crisp white sheets, sheer curtains, and a gorgeous view of the sprawling port town far below. Breakfast consists of light sandwiches and wraps to start off your day, plus fresh-squeezed fruit juices or coffees to compliment the meal. It’s all cooked by Jamil of course, and brought up to your rooms by him as well. The Al-Asims weren’t taking a risk with the food prepared for you or Kalim- they would never forgive themselves if the newest member of their family were to get sick.

Kalim is a very spontaneous person, one of the reasons you love him so much. Every day he’ll think of something new and fun for you to do. The world is his oyster, and you’re the pearl! You could stroll along the docks, holding hands and greeting every sailor along the way, or browse the street markets for artisan goods. Any time you stop to look at something for more than a few seconds, Kalim will drape himself over you and join you in ogling it over your shoulder. Anything fascinating to you is interesting to him too! There won’t be a boring day anywhere in your summer.

When your time in Port Ormos comes to a close, you can’t help but feel a little sad. You and Kalim will spend one final day around town, enjoying your time together. Another festival is held in your honor- this time, in the evening- and Kalim will bring you out onto the balcony of your room to watch fireworks being launched into the sky.

When the first round of sparks explode high above your head, you’ll notice he has a ring box in his hand. He even might trip a little as he gets down on one knee, he’s so hasty in trying to get everything right.

I know this was supposed to be just a little taste of what life together is supposed to be like, but I want this every day with you, for the rest of my life! You bring me so much happiness and my family just adores you, too- not to mention, we’ll get to come back here! So please… won’t you marry me?”

Deuce Spade

Moving into Deuce’s childhood apartment after graduation was a quiet but well-managed affair. You didn’t have much to transport anyways. However, formal introductions would have to be made when you arrive in the Kingdom of Hearts- you had never met Deuce’s mother before. You already knew what a generous and kind person she would be, though. Deuce spoke highly of her at all times. Her greetings to you are warm, and Deuce’s cheeks are dusted with pink. He looked as if his heart was going to explode- The two people he loved most in the world were finally meeting! Everything was all coming together now.

Deuce’s family’s apartment is cozy and well-kept. The shelves are dusted and everything seems so homey. Looking down the hallways, you notice small, faded marks low on the wall- crayon scribbles. Frayed edges of carpets and photos on the walls make it clear- your boyfriend had been raised in such a loving environment. It’s not very big, Deuce tells you with an embarrassed look, but it’s the best we can do at the moment. I promise we’ll get a bigger home in the future. You look back at him with love in your eyes. It’s perfect, Deuce. Just take things one day at a time- little steps.

Though Deuce tried his best in school, he wasn’t able to make it onto the honor roll. Still, the moment his mother saw his diploma from Night Raven College, she gasped and pulled him into a tight hug. His diploma and graduation photo were framed and hung on the wall- and with your permission, Deuce’s mother would frame and hang yours as well, right next to his. You and Deucey are first in our family to graduate, she would tell you proudly, admiring the papers on the wall. I’m so proud. Thank you for looking after him…

Well, you could say the same back to her.

Within just a few days of returning home, Deuce had to start work. He had been hired in a mechanic’s shop halfway across town, and was gone on long shifts for most of the day. He’s not around much, but when he is, he tries his best to spend time with you. No matter what he’ll kiss you good morning and good night, even if you’re asleep when he leaves or arrives home. On his rare days off, he’ll make sure to take you on a date, even if it’s just eating a meal together in the park on a picnic blanket. He’ll bring you small gifts from the shops around town, from extra tips he’s collected over time. You will never feel unloved under his watch.

During the day while Deuce is out working, you help his mother around the apartment. She’s perpetually cheerful when her son is around but sometimes, when it’s just the two of you at home, you’ll notice her having to sit down often and rub aching joints. The poor woman has worked herself to the bone trying to care for Deuce by herself all those years. When you ask her about it, she’ll confide in you- I haven’t told Deuce about this, she says with a rueful smile. I don’t want to worry him. But I’m so happy my little Deucey found someone so lovely and kind. I’d be proud to call you my daughter.

After that conversation, you write a letter to Riddle Rosehearts- an old friend of yours who is studying to become a magical doctor. He agrees to have a look at Ms. Spade, and give her a trial medicine he’s been working on, free of charge- hopefully it will help with the pain. Deuce’s mother tries to protest- There’s no way I can accept such generosity! But in the end, she caves. She’s not quite ready to tell Deuce yet, but that’s alright. It’s just like you told him; things might take a while- we’ll start with little steps.

Trey Clover

Living with your boyfriend’s family is hard work, but rewarding. Trey is expected to inherit the Clover family bakery when he gets older, and he works tirelessly to keep business up and running. His parents had doubts about you moving in at first- since the Rose Kingdom is on an island, they weren’t able to meet you previously. But with a bit of hard work and effort, they’re willing to look past your inexperience and see you for the wonderful person their son has come to love.

During the day, when Trey is busy with work, his mother or father will help teach you the basics of running the shop- how to work the ovens and give orders to the employees, as well as use more advanced equipment they use to make the delectable treats they sell. Don’t mind the little ones when they ask for a sweet, Trey’s father tells you, sending a disapproving glance at his two younger children. Chances are they’ve already stolen one or ten from the back counter when you weren’t watching.

Speaking of Trey’s younger siblings, they absolutely love you. His little brother has a bit of a puppy crush on you and will hang around the bakery when you’re working there. He’ll often have a little gift in his hand when he returns from playing outside. Look, I found this flower on the trail near the stables!

Trey’s younger sister is just as adoring of you as her brother, but in a different way. She’s so used to roughhousing with two boys, and is super excited to have a sister around now! She’ll chat your ear off about anything and everything, and is always willing to help you out if you don’t know what to do with certain ingredients or bakery customs.

Though Trey works long hours, the Clovers live above their bakery shop and he never has to deal with long travel times. That leaves him with a decent amount of time to spend with you. He’ll often ask you to accompany him on strolls around the village, where he goes out of his way to help neighbors. You learn that Trey has a bit of a reputation as a heartthrob in the small community where they live- they’re so excited to know someone has finally won his affections! The town’s golden boy is growing up so fast…

At home above the shop, you and Trey are mostly left alone to your devices. His parents trust you enough not to monitor your every move- but Trey’s father has one rule. You two sleep in separate rooms, and no closing the door when you’re in the bedroom together! We have enough little sprogs running around underfoot already. You have to promise him that no funny business will be going on in the home. (Well, at least for now- but don’t tell him that!)

Epel Felmier

Having visited Harveston once before, the trip to Epel’s home village was like returning home after a long vacation. Epel’s grandmother, Marja, welcomes you back as kindly as ever, all the while nagging Epel for not visiting home more often! You should think about your lonely old granny from time to time, Epel. You aren’t in the village for long, though- for the summer, you would be visiting an entirely new place- a town a few hours south of Harveston, where the rest of Epel’s extended family resided.

Epel’s aunts, uncles, cousins, and more have yet to hear about you. When you first step into the large farmhouse where the family has gathered, you’re immediately swarmed by dozens of blue-eyed, lavender-haired relatives, all gushing- Epel! Who is this young lady, and why didn’t you tell us about her before? She’s so cute! How did that sailor-mouth of yours manage to snag you someone so lovely?

Epel might be a little sour over their comments. He gets a bit possessive at times- he wants your attention on him as much as possible, and there are so many people to compete with! I’m not rough all the time, y’know! I can be a gentleman when I want to be. Now hands off’a her, she’s mine. He’ll ease up a bit when you remind him to overstep.

It’s a bit impressive how similar all of Epel’s relatives look. They’re all a bit on the short side, with the same hair and eyes. Small differences are evident in separate branches of the family, but overall they look very put together. You might feel like a bit of an outsider at first, but don’t worry! The feeling won’t last for long. It’s hard to feel lonely among such a boisterous crowd.

During the warm months, the apple orchard is still in full capacity. While most of the apples aren’t ripe yet, a small sect of trees, the summer orchard, is ready for harvest. Everyone in the family pitches in to pick apples. Though you’re not as practiced, you join in on the fun! At least, you try until Epel’s youngest cousins grab your hands and pull you away to play with them. Marja tells you not to worry about work- they can handle it. Go have some fun!

Epel glares at his cousins as they retreat, dragging you in tow. Marja pokes him in the back with a smile on her face. Go on, boy, she tells her grandson. You can have the day off- spend some time with your lady love before those little rascals steal her away. She pauses. I wouldn’t mind having a granddaughter in law before I leave this earth.

Red to the tips of his ears, Epel scurries after the children to find you. He joins you laying in the grass watching the kids nearby and mumbles in your ear- Y’know… I’ve been thinking- maybe it’s not a bad idea to get hitched after all.

A/N: The Kalim favoritism is so obvious here…

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #kalim x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce x reader #deuce spade #trey clover x reader #trey clover #epel felmier x reader #epel x reader #epel felmier

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sometimesanalice · 2 years

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Like I Can (Part 3)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

(All’s well that ends well❣️ Enjoy!)

You’d been on edge all day.

Having slept terribly the night before, you’d woken up early and giving up on the idea of going back to sleep had ended up at a sunrise yoga class, hoping that some movement would help you clear your mind. By the end of the hour you were even more frustrated than you were before you arrived, the poses feeling unnaturally forced instead of flowing seamlessly as they usually did.

So much for some goddamn inner peace.

Work was even worse. You had arrived to find that the espresso machine was broken. And whoever made a pot on the ancient drip machine, that was undoubtedly pulled out of a dingy storage closet somewhere, clearly hated everyone else since it tasted like tar. You could barely focus enough to clear out your inbox, when your work nemesis started breathing down your neck about a proposal that wasn’t due for another two weeks.

Time was dragging on. And every time you looked at the clock thinking it had been at least an hour since you’d last checked, were continually shocked to see that barely fifteen minutes had passed by. Thankfully it was Friday, so your boss didn’t care when you called it a day and left at lunch. It was better for everyone this way.

You had tried painting your nails, but didn’t have the patience to let them dry and smudged them trying to open a package of crackers. Ignoring the crumbs that got everywhere as you ate them while working the cotton pad over the remnants of your pretty pink polish. Your new favorite show didn’t hold your attention like it usually did and you found yourself mindlessly scrolling on your phone, missing most of the plot you’d had to restart it. Twice.

Not even the scenic drive along the coast to the restaurant you were supposed to meet your date at had done anything to alleviate your nerves.

You had been surprised at the choice of location when you had received the text message with the information about this particular date. As much as you enjoyed going to the Hard Deck, you were very much looking forward to drinking something other than a beer. Sure, Penny could make a mean spicy margarita, but sometimes an overpriced aesthetically pleasing cocktail just hit the spot better than anything else.

But most of all, you were thankful for a change of pace and the privacy this offered you. You had never been one for the spotlight, and dating on display had left you feeling drained.

You’re sitting in a surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker dining chair on the outdoor patio of the new trendy fusion restaurant you’ve been dying to come to. From your spot tucked away in the corner you can see the ocean waves rolling in and back out again. The golden rays already promising a stunning sunset later in the evening.

The foliage of the giant potted monsteras and birds of paradise made the terrace feel like a lush oasis, and contrasted stylishly against the large painted terracotta tiles on the ground. The pergola that covered it was dotted wisteria amongst the other climbing greenery, and numerous oversized hanging rattan sconces. The dainty lights woven throughout reflecting off the wine glasses on the table.

This was exactly what you needed. Too bad you couldn’t let yourself enjoy it, the twisted knots in the pit of your stomach had served a constant reminder of your nerves all day.

You had used this date as an excuse to finally buy the deep green floral dress you’d had your eye on for ages. The gentle drape of the neck was subtly sophisticated, while the high slit on the side added some serious sex appeal.

There was nothing wrong with a little retail therapy you had told yourself as you’d swiped your credit card. If you looked good, maybe it would help you to feel good.

In all honesty, it probably had a little too much sex appeal since you couldn’t stop fidgeting in your chair trying to get the silky dress cover up more of your thigh that was currently displayed rather provocatively. It felt like the more you tried to get it to lay right the more of your leg was exposed.

It probably didn’t help that you couldn’t stop the restless bouncing of your leg. You weren’t usually an antsy person, leg bouncing had always been more of Rooster’s anxious habit than yours.

Maybe you’ll feel less exposed once you draped the linen napkin across your lap. You’re tempted to do it now, but you don’t want to disturb the artfully laid out tablescape before your date has arrived.

It had been three weeks of back to back truly terrible dates. You could see the finish line now, but you couldn’t say that it wasn’t wearing on you. It had sounded like fun in theory, but now you weren’t so sure you would said yes again if you were offered a do-over.

You were tired.

Tired of going through the motions with men who could hardly be bothered to do the bare minimum. Tired of trying to sell the best version of yourself. Tired of putting on a show when all you wanted to find was an easy kind of love.

And this particular date had you more on edge and anxious than any of the other ones you’d gone on.

Even if you were pressed, you could not remember a single thing about the guy Payback had set you up with on your most recent blind date.

That evening you hadn’t even bothered trying to put together a cute outfit for the meeting. Instead, the only real effort you’d opted to put in was painting your lips a bright red as an attempt to psych yourself up for it. You didn’t usually wear such a bold color, but when you did it never failed to make you feel more brilliant.

And while you couldn’t remember anything about your date, what you did vividly remember was the fight you got into with Rooster that night.

You had been coming back from the restroom and on your way back to your date when you had bumped into him rounding the corner.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” he’d said as he reached out to steady you with hand going to your waist, dropping it once he realized it was you. “Oh, hey.”

Glancing over to your date who seemed absorbed in some game he was playing on his phone, you figured he wouldn’t miss you if you spent a few extra minutes away to catch up with Rooster.

He had been acting really distant lately, taking a couple days to respond to texts rather than a couple of hours like it usually took him. Natasha had told you about the rigorous training they were being put though, and you had assumed it probably had something to do with that. However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off between you two.

Rooster was already pulling away from you and taking a step towards the bar when you reached out grabbing his wrist to keep him with you. Looking around for a quiet place to talk, you’d heard him sigh behind you, but still held on to him as you made your way to one of the high-top tables in the corner by the empty stage.

You’d stopped and let go as you turned towards him, only to find him already looking at you with an expression that landed somewhere between expectant and exasperated. The cuffs of his shirt straining around his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well?” he grunted out.

Was he mad at you? You couldn’t think of any recent arguments you’d had recently that would explain the harsh tone he was using with you.

“Is everything ok? I feel like you’ve been really off lately. You know I’m always here for you, right?” Your hand was already reaching out to touch him, but you resisted the urge not wanting to further agitate him.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m surprised you even have time to talk to me with all these washouts you’ve been wasting your time on. You’re the one with the busy social calendar, not me.” He was looking over the top of your head avoiding your gaze now, the bitterness in his voice had stunned you.

“Seriously? What is the matter with you?”

He’d never been so intentionally callous with you before and it hurt.

“Listen, if there is an issue me dating the people your friends have been setting me up with, you need to let me know,” you’d said pointing a firm finger at him, your anger rising. “This was supposed to be a fun no pressure situation, but I don’t want to be in the middle of this if things are getting heated between you guys. It’s not worth it to me. But you don’t get to ignore me for days and then claim that I’m the one avoiding you.”

He made a noise of frustration as he dragged both hands through his curls. You could see the flex of his jaw as he’d clenched his teeth together.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he ducked down to that his eyes were level with your, and you could see the remorse in them. “You’re right, that was shitty of me to take it out on you. I’m just… tired.”

You’d simply nodded at him, feeling like you weren’t on the same page as him didn’t sit well with you. “Phoenix told me about your new training program, it seems intense,” your voice sounded small even to your own ears.

“Yeah, the training,” he’d sighed out pausing for a moment as he weighed his words, rubbing at his chest, “It’s taking a toll on me, but that’s my problem. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

“Are we good?” you searched his eyes, your friendship with him was so important to you.

“You and me? We’re good, kid. Always.” He’d reached out and squeezed your shoulder before heading back to where the group was gathered together pretending like they weren’t just watching your argument play out.

Needless to say, your head was somewhere elsewhere entirely as you made your way back to your date. You’d felt bad being so distracted, but your mind just kept playing the argument on repeat. It was like your brain was trying to pull apart every little word to decode something that you didn’t think was there.

After Payback’s friend had left, you rejoined everyone else around the pool table. You couldn’t tell if the mood was off or if it was just you reading into things, since they hadn’t been prodding you with questions like they usually did.

Natasha was in the middle of giving you a glowing review of the man she had been bragging about since she first offered to set you up, when Rooster came to sit with you both.

“He’s just your type. He’s an engineer, so he’s smart. He’s got that whole glasses wearing and floppy hair thing going for him. And he’s funny. Rumor has it that he talked back to his Rear Admiral one time and got away with it because the guy had found him amusing. I fully expect you to name one of your future children with him after me.”

Rooster had surprised the pair of you when he stood up so violently that he almost knocked over the beers on the table.

“What the fuck, Bradshaw?” Nat had exclaimed as you both worked to rescue the teetering bottles from becoming casualties from his sudden movement.

You had no idea what he was going to say as an explanation for why he’d jumped out of his seat the way he did, but what he ended up unexpectedly announcing instead of answering Nat’s question had sent you into a tailspin.

So now here you are in a restaurant you’d be dying to go to, fidgety and anxious in a probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative dress for a first date with the guy who Rooster was willing to break his long-standing rules for to set you up with.

To say you were feeling the pressure was an understatement. No one knew you like Rooster did. He’d seen you at your best and at your worst. He wouldn’t just pick any random guy he knew, he would be picking the one who he thought would be the best for you.

The thought should be comforting, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness.

You pick up your phone again and double check the time in the text that Rooster had sent you with all the details for your date with his friend.

It was either that do that again or moving the ever-so-slightly crooked gold salad fork back into place.

You’re about to open Instagram for the third time since you sat down, turning when you hear a throat clear purposely behind you.

“Hey, sweet girl.”

For Rooster, when you’d first agreed to participate in the bet with his friends those dates started off as annoying inconveniences. Just inconsequential disruptions that got in the way of his time with you.

You were his best friend and at his bar, yet he felt like he’d hardly seen you these past couple of weeks- or at least not as much as he would have liked.

Sure, he got some time with you here and there at the end of the night like when you had late night tacos on the beach. Or when he’d taught you his favorite pool trick, well more like attempted to teach you, he loved how stunningly bad you were at the game. But he felt like he was competing with these idiots his friends had picked out for your time and your attention.

He wasn’t used to sharing you. In the past, if you had a date that conflicted with something spontaneous he wanted to do or something that the group had planned together, more often than not he could get you to move it or cancel completely.

He’d never been above a little bribery to get his way, he knew what you liked.

You going on dates wasn’t a new concept to him, but seeing them paraded in front of him was a different story. And he was getting really tired of watching you from across the bar while feeling like you were out of reach.

The more of them you went on, and the more he heard Natasha crowing about having the perfect man for you the more agitated he felt. The worse that feeling in the pit of his stomach got.

The evening of date for Payback’s pick, they’d all seen you walk in through the doors of the Hard Deck wearing that shade of red lipstick. You’d wore it so well. His friends had immediately started speculating about what it meant. Phoenix had called them all idiots, and while he couldn’t claim to know anything about make-up and those things, he did know you didn’t just wear that color for no reason.

He had vague memories of his mom putting the color on when they’d go greet his dad, at least he like to think those were his memories. Or maybe they were just something he’d created in his head from all the time he had spent looking at old photos of his mom and dad together, her smile always outlined in the color. His favorite was the one where his dad’s cheeks were covered in bright red lipstick kisses as he smiled indulgently down at his mom while a young Bradley was propped on her hip clutching his prized F-14 Tomcat. He had that one framed on the end table next to his couch.

And seeing that color on you for a date with this random guy had rattled him.

He’d felt so terrible later that evening when he took those feelings out on you. Hating himself as he lashed out at you. Hating himself as he saw your face fall and the hurt in your eyes. Hating himself for being the person who made you feel bad.

And the crux of it all was that you weren’t wrong, he had been deliberately distant by being slow to reply and ignoring texts from you. He wasn’t proud of it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d hoped by creating some space that it would help him to try and get his head back on straight.

He’d let you assume that he was tired from the new training program they were being put through. What he didn’t tell you was that he was already outperforming everyone on the team, and that he hadn’t had to do any extra push-ups in a week and a half.

He was tired because he hadn’t been sleeping, and he couldn’t sleep because every time he tried to close his eyes all he could see was you on these dates. Replaying them in his mind’s eye wondering what the outcome would have been had they not gone so terribly wrong each time.

The what-ifs swarming around his brain day and night like agitated hornets.

While he had been quick to apologize for being a dick, the sharp pain that settled behind his sternum wouldn’t subside no matter how much he had tried to rub it away.

He didn’t know what was more unbearable, the idea of losing you to a chance encounter of circumstance. Some meet cute courtesy of the universe that he couldn’t see coming until it was too late, when it’s already too far out of his hands and out of his control. To see you grinning that smile so bright, the one so wide it made your dimples appear, as you introduced that guy to him.

Or sitting here night after night analyzing every little thing as you date the people some of his closest friends had picked out for you. Watching and hoping that these dates would just be funny stories you told on drunken nights out rather than the story told at your wedding about the night that everything changed when you met your person. Of having to be happy for you even as you pull away from him.

His ears were ringing and he’d felt his stomach drop.

He could see it now, a day when your life ran parallel to his rather than entwined as he was used to. Of you with a partner. With children. Of him as ‘Uncle’ Rooster, demoted to the rank of ‘longtime friend of the family’ rather than a core member of it.

The thought of it making him feel sick.

All evening he had been moving around like a ghost completely lost to the thoughts in his head, but now it felt like he’d been shocked by a live wire. He’d pretty much jumped out of the chair he had just settled in, almost knocking the beers in front of him off the table completely.

“I want in, I’ll do it,” he’d blurted out, interrupting the conversations that had continued on around him while he had been spiraling. “This whole thing has been a complete shit show. I can’t watch this anymore. I know a guy, I’ll set it up. I’m in.”

His hands were sweating as he hoped no one would call his bluff. He’d made it a point to actively avoid looking at you. You had such an uncanny way of reading him.

“I don’t know, Bradshaw. You’re a little late to the game, aren’t you? I’ve been saving the best for last, and I’m ready to collect my winnings.” He’d expected some shit from Hangman, but he never would have guessed it’d come from Phoenix.

Feeling his anger flare up, he reached into his back pocket and fished out a $100 bill from his worn leather wallet, double the original entry fee. He slapped it down on the table, leaving no room for any further discussion, “I’m the one setting her up for the next date.”

He’d caught a look between Hangman and Phoenix, but he couldn’t be bothered to read into it as he tried to keep his temper in check.

He wouldn’t lose you. Not to someone who didn’t deserve you, especially when he already knew the person who could make you happy.

“Alrighty,” Jake had drawled out, as he pocked the bill. “Looks like we have another player. I look forward to taking your money.”

He’d extended his hand out and they’d all shook on it, reaching Phoenix last her grip firm and her smile sharp. And that was that.

Now he was here at the new popular restaurant he’d heard you talking about a few weeks ago, his feet cemented to the tiles beneath him just gazing at you.

He could tell from where he was standing behind you that you were nervous by the way you were opening and closing apps without truly looking at anything. He knew it was a habit of yours when you were feeling anxious, something for your hands to do as you tried to distract yourself.

He had sweet talked the hostess over the phone into reserving the best spot on the outdoor terrace, and you looked so beautiful sitting there wearing his new favorite color. Your hair is held back by a delicate golden clip on one side leaving the line of your neck exposed, the sea breeze picking up a few wisps. It makes his teeth ache with want.

He knew you were gorgeous, he’d stared down enough men at the Hard Deck to know that others thought so too. However, he’d never let himself sit with those thoughts for too long, not trusting himself to keep his mind from wandering.

You were his best friend.

And best friends don’t think about how the other would look so perfect in their bed, that pretty green dress forgotten on the floor.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look under his arm.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look with his ring on your finger.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you are for him.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect he is for you.

Him.

It was a good thing he didn’t want to just be your best friend anymore.

He’d already done too much thinking, done too much waiting. He wasn’t going to miss his moment.

Taking one more deep breath, he made his way to you.

“Rooster? What are you doing here?” He was the last person you’d expected to see when you turned your head to see who had been trying to get your attention, “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Did he get emergency orders? Did your date get in an accident?

Your anxiousness was quickly morphing into panic, you’re already half way out of your seat when he puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb stroking the skin there reassuringly.

He is standing there looking completely at ease, as if he belonged there, “Nothing’s wrong, sweet girl.”

And there it was again, you hadn’t been sure if your ears were playing tricks on you the first time he’d said it. That simple term of endearment silencing the alarm bells that were going off in your head, the edges of the lush restaurant softening around everything except him.

“Your mom always called me that,” you say softly.

You cherished all the memories you had with Carole, the woman who had been such a significant figure in your life for so long. You knew your mom still sent Rooster a cake every year to celebrate her birthday from whatever bakery was closest to wherever he was stationed.

“I know, I remember,” his voice so warm and deep, “She loved you.”

He says it so simply, so sincerely. As if his presence here hasn’t just completely untethered you and sent you adrift in a sea of bewilderment.

The writhing snake that had made a home all day in the pit of your stomach finally disappeared, only to be replaced with the fluttering of wings that you were desperately trying to ignore.

You’d been so shocked when Rooster had exclaimed that he was going to set you up with someone, your mind had been whirling so much at the time you could barely focus on anything that had been said in the aftermath of his announcement. Maybe you had missed some caveat he’d come up with for his participation in the bet? That could make sense, considering how adamant he had always been in the past about never getting involved in your love life.

He was standing there looking so good in his best short-sleeved button up shirt, the one that was scattered with vibrant palm leaves that fit snugly against his body. And wearing the white slacks that usually had you looking anywhere else in the room to avoid acknowledging the way they clung to your best friend’s thighs and ass. If only he knew how weak they made you.

There just has to be a logical reason for why he’s here, but the soft smile on his face was rendering your brain uncooperative.

You were getting tired of feeling like you were missing something that should be so obvious, “My date is supposed to be here soon, are you going to hover in the back like you have been at the Hard Deck? Or are you just planning on pulling up a chair and third wheeling up close and personal?”

“Why would I need an extra chair,” he asks as he pulls it out and eases his large frame down onto the wicker seat, “When mine’s already free?”

You move to open your mouth when the waitress arrives, asking if you had your drink orders selected.

“I’ll do the Bourbon Sidecar. You feelin’ like a gin, sweet girl?” You just nodded at him mutely, still desperately trying to catch up. “And the Clover Club for her, please.”

It’s what you were planning on ordering to calm your first date jitters before had Rooster arrived and sent you into a complete tailspin. He hadn’t even looked at the thick textured cardstock of the drink menus that were strategically placed just to the right of the golden soup spoons on the artfully laid out table.

The butterflies were threatening to break free from the tightly locked cage you had attempted to shove them in.

The waitress took down the drinks, and you watched her as she crossed the patio pausing to tap away on the screen of their POS, trying to give yourself a few more moments to collect your thoughts.

“Bradley. I don’t understand, what’s going on?” He’s sitting there looking so secure, so steadfast, so sure.

His cheek ticks up, “I like it when you call me Bradley. Why did you stop calling me that when you moved out here?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Why did you stop calling me Bradley when you moved out here?” he asks again, leaning in. How does he expect you to answer a question, when your mind is going 1,190 miles an hour?

“I don’t know,” you start with a halfhearted shrug. “You’ve made a name for yourself in the Navy, you are ‘Rooster’ to everyone here.” You open your mouth to say more, before closing it quickly.

“There’s more going on in that head,” you feel his foot reach out tapping against yours under the table, before leaving it there a steady presence. “Tell me.”

You know you can tell him anything, but this feels different.

The intensity of his stare has you fighting the flush you feel spreading across your cheeks.

It wasn’t something that you’d ever given much thought to before, but you know if you answer truthfully now that he’s asked you it’s going to leave you feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been with him.

You sit up more fully in your chair deciding to be brave, “I mean, we haven’t really truly been in the same place since we were teens, and things are so different now. It was easier to start calling you ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ like everyone else, because it didn’t make me feel like I was piece from a different puzzle trying to force myself into a new picture. I wanted to fit into the life that you’ve built here, to feel like I still have a place with you as you are now.”

You’re actively fighting to keep your eyes on his. It would be so easy to look away or to laugh off your confession, but for whatever reason, you don’t want to take the easy out.

“I never knew you felt like that, but I wish I had,” the look in his eyes is softer than anything you’ve ever seen from him before. “I like being Bradley to you, I want to be Bradley to you. You aren’t just a piece to me, you’re the whole picture. You’ve always had a place here, exactly as you are you are now.”

It’s never been like this between the two of you. It feels like you both are saying too much and not enough all at the same time. As much as you find yourself wanting to sink into these intoxicating yet unfamiliar feelings, you know you’re still holding yourself back.

God, he is so handsome. You had been right, the sunset that was just starting was stunning, but the way golden beams were hitting the lightened strands of his curls was spectacular.

You’re almost too afraid to ask, but it’s unbearable not knowing, “Why are you here right now, Bradley?”

Of course, the waitress chooses that moment to return with the drinks.

She sets them down in front of you, the skewered raspberries sitting daintily on the side of your glass are suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. You vaguely hear him saying you both need more time and that he’ll flag her down when you’re ready to order.

He waits for her to leave to attend to her other tables before turning his heady gaze on you once again.

“I thought I’ve been making my intentions pretty clear here, sweet girl.”

He takes a sip of his Sidecar before continuing, the slight bounce of his leg the only thing giving him away that he might not be as self-assured as you’d originally thought, “I’m here for our date.”

There’s no hope of containing the butterflies now. You’re a lost cause.

“Bradley.” You can only imagine the emotions he is reading on your face. It would absolutely break your heart if this was some kind of bad joke.

“He’ll never love you like I can.”

“What?” you ask sounding every bit as dazed as you feel.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says shaking his head slightly, huffing out a little laugh at himself, “I got ahead of myself.”

You watch as he resituates himself in the chair, wiping his hands on the front of his slacks before restarting.

“Watching you on those dates has been hell, I don’t want to be jealous of some guy you gave a second glance. I don’t want hold back, not when we can be so much more,” he reaches across the table, taking your hand between his two large ones, “I thought having you as a friend was enough for me, but how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that I could be the one who makes you happy and then do nothing about it? That I’m the only one who can love you the way you deserve to be loved?”

You’ve always known he’s cared for you, that was unquestionable, but to be loved by Bradley Bradshaw? It was something you’d never let yourself imagine, let alone dared to hope to for. It had been kinder to spare yourself from the heartache that came with hope. But now? With him sitting right here in front of you saying you could have him like this?

Was this how he felt flying in his F-18 every day?

He gets up and rounds the table coming to your side, hooking an ankle around the tapered leg of your chair pulling you out a bit. You’re suddenly very thankful for the probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative for a first date dress you purchased when you see the way his rich brown eyes turn molten as he gets a glimpse of your exposed thigh.

He settles into a crouch before you, his warm hands seeking out both of yours, “You don’t need Phoenix or anyone else to set you up, because he’ll never love you like I can. Let me show you how good it can be. Let me be it for you, sweet girl.”

The man in front of you is everything you could have ever possibly wanted for yourself. And to be the one who could get to keep him forever? There’s no doubt in your mind, it’s worth everything.

You’re sure you will have to have a more serious conversation about what this means for the two of you, but that can wait for another time when he’s not in front of you with his eyes so earnest. So hopeful. To another time when he’s not wearing his heart on his sleeve as he patiently waits for any kind of response from you.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him right now.

So easy to learn what that mustache would feel like against your skin.

To learn how his lips and tongue would feel against your own.

To learn how his mouth would move with yours.

But what’s a couple more hours when you’ve had years to build up to it.

“Well then, Lieutenant. I guess you better show me how it’s done,” you bring your hand up to cup his face, your thumb gently stroking along his cheekbone. “But I’m warning you now, I fully intended to give you as good as I get.”

Being on the receiving end of a Rooster smile was something special, but it had nothing on the beaming grin that Bradley Bradshaw is giving you now.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” he says as he lands a lingering kiss on your cheek before standing and pushing your chair back in for you. “You’ve always known how to keep me on my toes.”

He returns back to his surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker chair, stretching his leg to rest it against yours. When the waitress comes back you both end up picking your meals at random, having been too absorbed with each other to actually bother reading the menu.

You’d barely eaten all day because of the knots in your stomach, and now you were starving. Thankfully, Bradley at least had the commonsense to ask the waitress to pick her favorite dish as a third entrée “for the table”.

It feels the same in many ways, he knows what to say to make you laugh and what to bring up to get you fired up. And you know what questions to ask to keep him talking and how to push his buttons just right.

But it’s also different when he doesn’t bother to hide his knowing smirk every time he catches you looking at his lips. And it’s even better when you don’t bother trying to hide yours when you catch him doing the same.

Afterwards, he takes your hand in his as you slowly make your way to the parking lot, his fingers lacing between your own. He surprises you when he leans against the Bronco, murmuring something about not wanting to let your pretty dress get dirty. His long legs extended wide as an invitation for you to come stand between them, his strong hands stroking the silky material of your dress on your hips as you step closer.

You’ve been ignoring the pull low in your stomach all evening, the tension between you two the most luscious feeling you’ve ever experienced. The combination of his heat, his woodsy smell, the headiness of his gaze on you almost too overwhelming.

Almost.

Your hands settle on his broad chest, playing with the button of his shirt now a bit nervous. Your faces closer than you’ve ever allowed them to be before. If what you’re hearing is the sound of the waves or the roaring of the blood in your ears, you couldn’t say.

You know he is waiting for you to make the first move. You see the moment when he’s about to say something, knowing him the words would be wonderfully reassuring and perfectly Bradley.

Why would you want to talk when his mouth was already waiting like a question. Why would you want to talk when you could learn what it’s like kiss him instead?

So you do.

When your lips meet his for the first time it feels like the sweetest kind of devotion.

bradleybradleybradley

His mustache scratching satisfyingly at the skin of your upper lip. His mouth tasting like the Sidecars he sipped on throughout the night and something that was just fundamentally Bradley.

Your hand moves on its own to stroke the side of his neck, your fingers seeking out the line of the longest scar that adorns his skin there from that night all those years ago.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest as he licks his lips before bringing his face down to yours again. Your other hand tightly clutching his shirt in anticipation.

He’s always been so in tune with you, so when he tilts your head just right before leaning into the kiss it feels like a homecoming.

thisthisthis

One of Bradley’s hands makes its way up your back, pressing you closer to him as the other bands more securely around your waist. And when his tongue skims your lower lip, you sigh into his waiting mouth thankful for his strong grasp on you.

Nothing your mind could have imagined would have ever come close to the perfection that is Bradley Bradshaw’s mouth moving against yours. Nothing has ever felt so good, so right.

When he pulls away, you’re both over fighting back the smiles that feel like have been permanently fixed on your faces all evening.

“I’m don’t want to call it a night yet,” he tells you, as he brushes the hair back from your face. His smile turning playful, “What do you say, kid? Wanna go get some milkshakes?”

“Depends,” you reply cheekily, “Can I drink it in the Bronco?”

Wrapping both arms around his neck you draw him back in towards you again.

“Anything you want, sweet girl,” he promises against your lips.

The next night at the Hard Deck, you entered the bar with Bradley’s arm draped your shoulders.

His team whooping loudly when you pull him in for a kiss as he handed you a Blue Moon. They’d declared the drinks were on Bradley that night as they’d swarmed you both in celebration. Maverick pulls you aside to give you a warm hug, whispering “I knew you’d get here” in your ear before releasing you.

Now that you had let yourselves cross that line from friends to more, the pair of you are entirely too aware of the other. Never content to be too far away from the other. Your eyes like magnets, each seeking out the other to find them already looking back.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he has his hands on your waist. Nothing neighborly in the way his hands rub your shoulders. Nothing platonic in the way he rests one hand on the back of your neck, his thumb making teasing circles.

And there’s nothing friendly about the way you run your hands through his curls when he’s at the piano. Nothing neighborly in the way you slide your hand into his back pocket. Nothing platonic in the way you rest your hand on his chest, your finger tracing the line of his collarbone.

It has always been so easy with him, even as you explore in this new area of your relationship.

You’d been orbiting around each other all night, when Jake yelled out to heckle you both about indecent exposure, threatening to call his cop friend if Bradley didn’t “get his ass over to the pool table in the next thirty seconds.”

He’d peppered your face with kisses before you’d shooed him away, laughing when you realized he had swiped your beer and had taken it with him.

“So you and Bradshaw,” Natasha states as she settles down next to you.

That makes you smile.

“Yeah, me and Bradley.”

How could you have possibly thought you’d want anyone else other than him? You were a goner from the moment you’d turned and saw him standing there at the restaurant. Your golden boy.

You turn towards her, putting a hand on her arm, “I’m sorry that you didn’t get a fair shot at the bet. I really do appreciate the effort you all went through. I mean, Bradley would have had it in the bag anyways. But still–”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waves a hand, cutting you off, “We had a team meeting and changed the rules of the bet anyways. I still won, so it’s all good.” Her smile was nothing less than mischievous.

“Wait, what?”

“We could all see from Rooster’s reaction during that disaster of a first date with all the dogs that he was completely hung up on you. We didn’t want to wait for him to figure it out, so we decided to adjust the terms a bit to help him out,” she laughs at your clearly baffled expression. “We reached out to the cringiest people we knew and set you up with them instead. And then took bets on how long it would take Rooster to get his head out of his ass and go get his girl.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” The revelation has you bursting out in laughter.

“Yep, well except for Bob. His date was a genuine accident, bless him. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even bother reaching out to anyone. I was betting on Rooster getting it together before I needed to step in,” she explains while wearing the most self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Of course Natasha Trace had bet on him. On you.

You couldn’t wait to tell Bradley how you had both been so absolutely played by his team.

You loved these people. You loved your life here in San Diego.

“I’d apologize for putting you through all that, but it looks like it worked out well in the end,” she says knowingly nodding her head towards him.

You’re fully watching him now as he bends over the pool table looking amused at something that Hangman says.

Bradley looks up catching your eye and shoots a wink in your direction, a grin taking over his whole face. You already know you’re wearing a matching one.

“I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

Thank you so much for all the love on this one! I’ve loved sharing this journey with you all! Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!

If you want to know what happens next for these two you can check out my masterlist!

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) as always for being the ultimate hype girl!

Taglist:

@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @finelytaylored @phantomxoxo @viridianphtalo @chicomonks @artemissunn @hey-assbutt35 @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader @averyhotchner @caatheeriinee07 @rileyanntoinette @lublycho

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #like i can tgm

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 months

Text

The Healer pt 2

Decided to continue this, let me know if you want me to keep going!

Part 1 linked here

Enjoy!

________________________

“What have you done?”

My voice was strained in a horrified whisper.

Jack the Hero was calm despite my obvious distress. He leaned back in his chair, his face smiling but his eyes freezing cold. “That’s the wrong question, Healer. The right question is: what have YOU done?”

“Everyone… they’re dead… you promised you needed it to clear the gate… you told me…”

“I told you a lie.” His smile didn’t change. “You were the fool who believed me. Their deaths are on your hands as much as mine.”

I stood up, checking my inventory and beginning to drop any group items. “I’m quitting your team. I’d rather die alone out there then stay on under you. After what you've done."

“I’d rethink that, Healer.” He held up a hand, and a bright red gleam shined between his fingers.

“You bastard.” I froze at the sight, unable to move, as realization slowly dawned on me of the extent of his betrayal. “You…”

He stood up, not bothering to listen to the rest of my cursing. “Save your energy.” He paused at the doorway, his gaze settling on my tear-stained face without much interest. “You’ll need it. We ride early tomorrow, Healer. Be ready.”

______________________

“JACK!” I sat up in bed, breathing heavily. I was filled with terror and rage, and it took a moment to realize my familiar surroundings. Light blue walls, intricate draperies, stacks of large books on topics ranging from anatomy to pharmacology. My room. I sighed with relief.

Thinking of my dream, and the bad memory contained within, I stiffened again, slowly slipping my hand into my collar and gripping the cold hard surface of the amulet within. I sat silently, clutching it so tightly that the hard edges began to dig into the skin of my palm. Eventually my speeding heart rate slowed, and my breathing normalized. I was in my house, out of Jack’s reach.

As I calmed down, a notice popped up in my vision.

**You have rested through the night. HP and MP are restored in full. Adverse conditions such as fatigue are eliminated. You are encouraged to continue your mission in securing the advancement of the human race! Good luck!**

I waved away the notice with a frown. Since the Downfall, since we had woken up in this strange world crafted after a VR game, there had been only vague references to the “purpose” behind it. The original message had mentioned an “opportunity for improvement” but given little other information. Who was it that trapped us all here? Why did they do it? And are they still watching us?

I shook my head. All we knew was that there were one hundred gates to pass to “complete” this mission. Perhaps then we would understand the purpose behind all of this, the meaning of all this pain, death and suffering.

But we were only on the forty-second gate.

I went downstairs, and paused when I spotted Alton the Great Evil Wizard, looking nothing like his terrifying reputation as he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, calmly sewing a black robe. Hearing my footsteps, he looked up and grinned, waving with the hand holding the threaded needle.

“Good morning, Miss Healer!”

The address caught me by surprise. Jack and the party had always just called me “healer” or “the healer.” The word was always said dripping with disdain. They had hated my profession, hated the embarrassment of having me on their team, made even worse by the fact that they actually needed me around. But when Alton said it… it just seemed normal.

I think my sense of normal has been greatly skewed.

I regained my composure and nodded at him. “Good morning. What are you working on?”

“Repairing my torn robes.” He gestured a pile next to him on the floor. “They have low durability so they break down easily.”

“Shouldn’t you just buy new ones?”

He nodded. “I could… but prefer to save my money for the things I really want. Better to keep it close, since you never know what important things you might need it for… especially in this world.”

“Says the guy who put a 100,000 gold bounty on the head of the Hero?”

“Exactly!” He grinned viciously. “I save my money for important things like annoying idiots like him.”

I laughed at that. After another pause, I sat down on the floor next to him and grabbed a piece of dark cloth from the pile. Pulling a needle and dark thread out of my inventory, I began to stitch.

“You sew?” Alton asked, seeming surprised.

I pointed at his chest, where the stitched wound was still visible. “If I can patch you up, pretty sure I can sew up a sleeve.”

“…Good point… although I guess I didn’t realize the skills were transferable. Did you take on a Tailor side quest?”

“It’s not a skill, not a Fantasy Realm type skill at least.” I kept my eyes on my hands that were picking up speed as muscle memory took over. “I always liked to sew, even before the Downfall… it was a good way to relax. It seemed logical to decompress doing the type of sewing that didn’t have the possibility to kill someone if your stitch came loose.”

“Wait…” He held up his hand, shocked. “Were you a doctor before the Downfall?”

“Yeah, but I was still in surgery residency. So wasn’t like I was operating on my own… “

Alton blinked, seemingly trying to absorb this information. “That’s… impressive.”

I kept my head down, my hands moving smoothly without hesitation. “Not in my family.”

“Ah… familial disappointment. Something with which I am quite familiar.” There was a sad tone in his voice, a look in his eyes that seemed almost close to despair. “Unlike you, I did not go into the family business… making me somewhat of the black sheep of the family.”

“Your family business?” I probed, curious.

“Well, it wasn’t wizardry, that’s for sure.” I sensed he was avoiding the question, and dropped the topic. I didn’t know Alton that well, certainly not enough to push him to open up. I tried to find something else to talk about instead.

“So… what do you think about what I said yesterday?”

He seemed quietly relieved that I moved on. “Which sentence?”

“About finding a couple other people for our party.”

He continued to sew, thinking it over. “I guess it depends…”

“Depends on what?”

Alton looked up, his eyes serious. “On if you trust them.”

I paused at that, before finally answering in a cold tone. “I don’t trust anyone.”

The amulet around my neck felt icy cold against my skin, as always, as if reminding me of its presence, reminding me of the consequence of trusting someone.

“Not anymore.”

Alton nodded seriously at that, and I remembered the title that I saw in his Stat screen. “The Betrayed.” Given the particulars of the system of this world, I didn’t want to know how severe of a betrayal it would have to be to actually bestow a title like that.

Looks like we are both haunted by the consequences of trusting the wrong person. I feel like I already know the kind of person he is... even if it's not been a long time.

As if he heard my thoughts, he spoke up. “We have a lot in common. I’ve been watching you for quite some time. I have a good understanding of the type of person you are… and aren’t. I considered all the options before inviting you into my party. If you have someone you know that well… I would at least be willing to meet them.”

“You were watching me?” I raised an eyebrow at that. “Why?”

“First, I was interested because you were a healer. I didn’t think any had survived. Then I noticed you cleaning up after the Hero’s party’s antics. And then… it was partly because I was scared of you.” He smiled to soften the blow, but I still froze for a moment, before forcing my hands to continue.

“Scared of me?”

“Yeah… since I’m fairly certain that you are the only human in this world who is strong enough to kill me.”

I processed that. “So it’s a ‘keep your enemies close’ type deal?”

“Nah, nothing like that.” He laughed quietly. “It’s just the more I got to know you, the more I couldn’t escape a thought: That I thought you would be a good friend.”

“… You shouldn’t trust me.” My tone was flat.

Alton seemed unfazed. “Why not? Are you planning to betray me?”

I shook my head.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You don’t know everything yet… even if you’ve been watching… there’s things… terrible, awful things you need to know about me before making any decisions.”

“None of us are saints in this world.” He briefly closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before meeting my gaze once more. I could see the guilt within. “We were trapped here, forced to survive. We’ve all done things we regret. Don’t forget: I’m not far behind you in human kill numbers.”

There was a long pause.

“What are you thinking?” He finally asked, breaking the silence.

I knotted off the thread as I finished closing the tear, cutting it off with a neat motion. “I think you’re strangely naïve for someone called the ‘great evil wizard.’”

“If you say so.” Alton chuckled.

“I do.”

“So are you going to introduce this naïve evil wizard to your friends?” He finished sewing his robe, tying it off somewhat clumsily.

I froze at the word “friends."

______________________

“I need your help.” Jack’s eyes were intense as he cornered me, my back against a cold brick wall. The solidity of it grounded me, the realness of it reminding me that this strange world I lived in was my new normal.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. If the power gets into the wrong hands…” As I tried to turn away, he grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. My skin crawled at his touch, but the hard grip prevented me from pulling away.

“We don’t have a choice. The next gate is impossible without your help. If you refuse… everyone will die.”

He finally released me, and I tried to back away, but only succeeded in hitting my head against the brick. After a few long moments, I sighed.

“Just for the gate, right? You promise?”

“Of course…” He smiled. “We’re friends after all.”

______________________

I took a deep breath, ignoring Alton’s concerned look. “No. Not friends. But strong people who might be interested in partnering with us.”

I had no friends. I didn't dare. Not since I stopped calling Jack and his group that.

“Ah of course. `And you think these strong people will be okay partnering with me?” He pointed at himself with a quizzical expression.

I smiled confidently. “I have no doubt.”

______________________

SLAM!

The door slammed in our faces for the third time. Inside the building we could hear a muffled “GO AWAY!”

Alton looked over at me with a smile. “No doubt, huh?”

I frowned. “ I underestimated your bad reputation… or maybe mine.”

“I resent that. My bad reputation is more than enough to scare good prospects away on its own.” He glanced back at the door with a raised eyebrow. “Besides if they are too scared to even join us, I imagine they wouldn’t be that much help in a fight.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry. I’ve run out of suckers… I’m mean strong heroes to ask.”

He grinned at that, as we walked away from the last house and towards the 38th level City. The main road was deserted, this was one of the higher levels, and very few people advanced this far. Many chose to stay in the lower levels, avoiding danger. I kept a close eye on the surrounding forest, tense. The roads were generally safe, but the wariness remained all the same.

“So, just the three prospects, huh?”

“People on the World Leader Board who aren’t already in a party and not total psychopaths?” I shook my head, distracted from my obsessive watching of our surroundings. “You’re lucky I could think of three.”

“Well maybe it will just have to be you and me. I mean we ARE the top two players on the World Leader Board. It could be enough.”

We walked forward as I continued to ponder his words. I had not really seen Alton in action. However, his ranking and reputation as the world’s strongest player couldn’t be denied. “It might be enough, for a while. But I don’t know if that will carry us to the end. The gates are getting harder and harder… “

“Well, it’s not like teammates are going to just fall from the sky…”

“LOOK OUUUUUT!”

Alton and I rolled out of the way of the person falling from a nearby tree, both readying for battle. Alton whispered quietly, activating a dark magical flame that danced around his fingers. I on the other hand, simply stood in place, hands resting at my sides. If there was one thing I was good at, it was killing. I just needed to know if it was necessary. In the corner of my vision I confirmed my filled HP and MP, with some reassurance.

The falling person hit the ground with a loud CLANG and her metal armor slightly deformed from the impact. She the rolled several times, coming to a loud stop on her back at my feet. Her young, bright eyes stared up at me with delight.

“Healer!”

I looked down at her, and sighed. “Hello, Stephanie.”

Alton glanced at her, and then looked at me. “You know her?”

“WE’RE BEST FRIENDS!”

“No.”

Stephanie and I answered at the same time. Alton laughed, and held out a hand to the teenage girl. “Nice to meet you, Miss Healer’s best friend. I’m Alton.”

Her eyes widened. “The evil wizard?” I braced myself for her to scream or run away similar to the prior “strong” people I had tried to recruit. Instead, she smiled with great relief. “THANK GOODNESS!”

“Huh.” Alton seemed just as confused as me. “Never had that reaction before.”

Stephanie in response pointed a group of monsters emerging from the nearby forest, heading towards us. “Can you guys lend a hand?”

I studied the new threat carefully. There were eight wolf like creatures, 5 feet tall with long horns, large jaws and rows upon rows of blood-stained teeth. They moved as a pack, snarling and howling as they closed in on their prey.

Alton shrugged nonchalantly at the sight, and pointed at me. “I’ll help if she says it’s okay.”

“Great!” Stephanie sat up with difficultly, her armor hindering the movement, and placed her hands together in a praying gesture. “Please?”

I pushed up my sleeves. “Sure. I had some energy I wanted to get out anyways. Alton, you take the four on the left?”

He nodded in response and began chanting.

I faced the four beasts on the right with a thoughtful expression. One out of the group was larger than the rest, likely the leader of the pack.

**The Healer has activated wordless incantation. -300MP per use.**

The wolf monsters were racing closer. I sensed the end of Alton’s chant coming and raised a hand, pointing.

**The Healer has cast Immobilization -10MP/sec while active.**

The three smaller wolves froze, tumbling to the ground. The larger stumbled, but shrugged off the spell, obviously having some magical resistance. I moved forward, going at my highest speed. If a spell won’t work… I pulled a syringe out of my inventory. As I reached the leader. I saw Alton finish his chant out of the corner of my eye. A black flame surrounded the monsters he faced, burning them to ash.

**Alton the Great Evil Wizard is credited with 4 monster kills, awarded 160XP and +4 fame. You receive 20XP as a party member.**

The lead monster snapped at me as I leapt over its head, its teeth missing my arm my a hair. I jumped and straddled its back, grabbing its rough, stained fur in one hand, and plunging the syringe into the large muscle near its shoulder joint with the other.

**The Healer has used custom potion – Anesthetic. Patient is paralyzed and sedated for 3 minutes.**

The monster under me let out a groan and collapsed to the ground. Letting out a sigh of relief, I looked over at the smaller wolf monsters and reached out a hand.

**The Healer has cast Debridement x 3. – 60MP.**

Black blood spilled out from large wounds in their necks, pooling under the three bodies, soaking the grass beneath them.

**The Healer is credited with 3 monster kills, awarded 120XP and +3 fame.**

Now that the small fry are out of the way… I waved away the notification and pulled a scalpel out of my inventory, the small blade in my hand reflecting the bright sunlight.

If spells won’t work, then I’ll just do it the old-fashioned way. I couldn’t use weapons, only medical/healing potions and tools. A scalpel although tiny, was the closest thing I had to a bladed weapon. I reached out towards the wolf’s neck.

“WAIT!” Stephanie cried out, causing me to pause before I cut the monster’s throat. “Don’t cut it!”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to spare the monster that was hunting you?” I noticed that Alton had kept a small amount of magic around his hand, ready to strike at any moment. It was strangely reassuring to see that he wasn’t always so trusting of others.

Stephanie looked at me, confused. “What? No! I just meant please don’t CUT it! I need an undamaged pelt for a quest. Can you kill it without hurting its pelt?”

I thought it over, still holding the scalpel to its throat in case the potion wore off. “Depends. What about the quest rewards?”

She deflated slightly at the question. “50-50 split? I did spend days tracking them down.”

“Deal.” I put my scalpel away, and pull up a buckled strap. With a quick practiced movement, I placed it around the wolf’s head, and tightened it over the neck.

**Healer has utilized tourniquet. Blood flow to the affected area is cut off. Please utilize caution, patient received 10 damage for each second that the tourniquet is in place.**

I waited patiently.

**WARNING! Patient airway is compressed and is becoming dangerously hypoxic. Please secure airway to continue healing. Patient will receive 50 damage for each second that airway compression remains in place.**

I continued to wait.

**The Healer is credited with 1 level 20 monster boss kill, awarded 200 XP and +5 fame.**

I removed the tourniquet, wiping down the strap before replacing it into my inventory. I glanced over at Alton and Stephanie who stared at me in surprise. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“…Umm… did you just kill a boss monster… with a syringe and a belt?”

“It’s a tourniquet, but yes.”

“Cool.” Alton gave me a thumbs up.

Stephanie shrugged off her apparent shock and ran to the boss monster, using a skill to remove the pelt without any tools. She then paused, and stood in front of both of us, shuffling back and forth slightly.

“So…”

I cleaned my hands with a handkerchief and some water, not looking at her. “What do you want this time?”

“This time?” I waved away Alton’s question and looked at Stephanie, who didn’t make eye contact.

“Well, I guess I wasn’t here JUST for the wolf pelt… I may have also come here looking for you… and remembered to finish the quest when I saw them in the forest on my way over.”

I didn’t change my expression. “What do you want?”

Striking a pose, slightly hindered by her dented metal armor, she answered dramatically: “…I heard you were recruiting… Can I join your party?”

"..."

Alton and I stared at her.

“Wait. How did you know we were recruiting?”

“After you asked three people you are seriously asking this?" She shook her head in disgust. "You both are famous! It’s been all over the world chat since you were first sighted together!”

Groaning, I pulled up the display that I rarely opened anymore. After the Downfall, the people pulled into this game like world had quickly discovered a worldwide chat option. There were many different topics, guides and other discussion available to read through and comment on.

In the first few weeks after waking up in this world, I used to read through the gossip and other new topics daily, hoping desperately that someone would discover what had happened, why we were here, or perhaps some tips on succeeding as a healer. Instead I quickly discovered it was a toxic cesspool of humanity, filled with petty arguments, lies and gossip.

I quickly became a common topic of discussion on the chat board. As the only high level healer, part of the Hero’s party, and the player with the highest number of human kills, I was infamous, with entire forums dedicated to analyzing how I was accomplishing it. The conclusions they often came to were often not very flattering towards me.

There were also fan clubs and forums dedicated to the Hero and his party, and they were also my strongest critics as well, accusing me of dragging the hero and his party down. I flinched from the memories, but quickly pulled up the world chat, noting that the top topic of discussion was about Alton and me.

______________________

“THE HEALER AND THE EVIL WIZARD HAVE TEAMED UP AND ARE RECRUITING NEW MEMBERS!”

The infamous mooching healer from the Hero’s party has officially split from them and joined the Evil Wizard! No one knows what horrific plans they are concocting, but whatever it is must require strong people, as they have been sighted trying to recruit two free agents on the leader board, and were last seen on level 38, likely to recruit Dallas the Barbarian! We’ll keep you posted!

______________________

I frowned at the post, quickly scanning the comments below.

______________________

“ Good riddance! It was always a drag to see her running behind the hero’s party, getting carried by them. “

“That’s terrifying! The Evil Wizard has friends? If you see them, you better run!”

“Who would want to joined such a cursed party?”

“… So who else is shipping them?”

“Weirdos will ship anything with anything. Get out of here with that nonsense.”

“Pieces of trash will always gravitate together.”

______________________

I looked at the last comment, which was posted by Rita the Holy Archer. She was a member of the Hero’s party as well, and not someone I had ever gotten along with.

Alton was staring blankly, obviously scrolling through the chat as well. He made a weird expression and waved his hand back and forth, dismissing it and muttering to himself. I stepped forward, patting his shoulder comfortingly.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a bunch of idiots chattering.”

“Worried?” He looked at me, confused. “I’m not worried about the comments. There’s a whole thread dedicated to taking bets on what sort of horrible death I’ll have. This is child’s play.”

“Then why the weird face?”

He looked away awkwardly, mumbling something I couldn’t hear.

“What did you…?”

“I saw FAN ART, okay? They made fan art of the two of us…” He covered his face with his hand.

“Why would they…?” I paused. “Can I see it?”

“No. No. I would rather die.”

What on earth did he see? Before I could ask further, Stephanie pushed again.

“Guys? I’m still here! Can I join?”

Alton stared coldly at her. “I don’t know you, or trust you. It depends on what Miss Healer has to say.”

Stephanie turned towards me, but only received an eye roll in response to her puppy eyes. “I can vouch for the fact that she’s strong. She’s a barbarian warrior, and obsessed on leveling up her strength stats.”

He looked at the girl in her late teens and her tiny frame. “…If you say so”

I sighed. “Show him your sword.”

“Sure!” Grinning, Stephanie raised her hand, an enormous cleaver type sword longer than her body appearing in it. It looked incredibly heavy, but she waved it around as if it were weightless. Alton applauded politely at her show of strength. Finally, she put it away. “I’m forty-third on the Leader Board, partially due to the fame I gained for my strength stats, which are the highest in the world here.”

“The real question is…” Alton turned towards me. “Why wasn’t she on your list of people to recruit?”

“I told you my list was strong people who weren’t in a party who weren’t total psychopaths.” I looked at Stephanie pointedly. “She is absolutely crazy AND she’s in party already.”

She grinned. “Not anymore, Healer! I quit my party the minute I saw you were recruiting on the forum! I owe you my life, how could I not take advantage of that opportunity?”

“And your fan club of a party allowed that?”

“I had to chop off a hand or two, but eventually they got the point and agreed to let me be happy and follow my dream.” Seemingly unconcerned by the intense violent acts she spoke about, she held out her hand to me with a smile. “So do we have a deal?”

I looked up at the sky. “We do need a tanker…” Crazy or not, she is really strong... I took a deep breath, and shook her hand. “Fine.”

“YAY!”

**Stephanie the lovely Barbarian has accepted your invitation to join your party! She will have access to shared inventory, and her stats will become visible upon medical scan.**

“Should we head on, or are anymore of your friends going to suddenly jump out of trees to join us?” Alton finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Who knows?” I turned to Stephanie. “Where do you need to turn in your quest?”

“Where else?” She grinned. “Winter’s General Store.”

"..." Rubbing my forehead, and trying not to cry, I asked quietly, “Are you out of your mind? You realize he would kill you if you didn’t bring back the pelt?” Alton looked at me questioningly, but I gestured at him to let it go and he remained silent.

“No he wouldn’t!” Stephanie burst out. “He promised that since I was your friend he wouldn't kill me! ... He would only maim me if I failed.”

“You’re not my friend.”

“That’s right, we’re not friends… we’re BEST friends!”

“Heaven help us.” I groaned and pulled up a traveling artifact. “Let’s go see Winter before he decides to come see us.”

______________________

As we arrived in level 1 City, we quietly moved towards the back alleys near the water front. It was a mostly deserted area known for its paid killers, black markets and the most desperate part of humanity. The few people we ran into were cloaked and minding their own business, but I kept my guard up, refusing to dismiss wordless chanting despite the mana drain. I wanted to be able to fight at a moments notice.

“Who is Winter?” Alton asked finally as he followed us through the winding and increasingly dark streets.

“An NPC!” Stephanie answered cheerfully. “A really powerful one. He really likes the Healer too”

Alton was shocked, as I knew he would be. There were scattered being that looked like humans, but weren't that could give quests, termed Non Player Characters given their similarity in role to NPCs in the game. However, since their discovery in this world since the Downfall, their interactions with humans were limited. There were a few that would hand out quests, a few that ran shops, but all of them had one thing in common:

They despised humans.

They treated human players as lesser beings, only worthy of cheap and dirty missions or tasks that they didn’t want to take care of. Many attempts at befriending or learning about them were made in the beginning, but universally they responded with only vitriol and disdain.

No one knew why they were here. If they were part of whatever scheme this was that had trapped us in this world. But we knew one thing: Any attempt to harm them went poorly. They could be harmed. Could even be killed. But any player who did so would find themselves hunted relentlessly by the City 1 guard, who wouldn’t rest until the offending player was dead. After a handful of deaths, this became the new normal and people learned to leave NPCs alone for the most part.

I gave most NPCs a wide berth. I didn’t understand them, or trust them.

But Winter was the exception.

We arrived at the store, pushing it open to the sound of a tinkling bell overhead.

“Winter! Guess who I brought?!!” Stephanie crowed as she pranced in, before coming to a sudden stop. I halted behind her, and Alton beside me as we stared silently at the group already in the store, arguing with an annoyed appearing Winter.

“What bad luck.” Alton whispered, and I had to agree.

It was the Hero’s party.

#writing #fantasy #part 2 #video game world #violence #betrayal #monsters #was fun to continue

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Batting Practice Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You don't show up to the game the next day, and Bradley has to face Molly's wrath when she comes in your place. His heart is broken as he feels the consequences of his words, but he finally realizes just how much you and Everett mean to him. Then he sees you at Everett's Career Day, but you're not making it easy on him.

Warnings: Angst, swearing

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

Bradley sat up most of the night in his sad apartment, sipping on a bottle of bourbon and feeling like a prize asshole. He had finally found a woman he thought he could settle down with, thought the three of you could maybe be a family, but he managed to fuck all of it up before you were even properly dating him.

This was just so on brand for him, it was laughable. Every bad decision that could be made about women, well he made them. He just had to go spouting off for weeks on end that he didn't date moms with baggage, and now Jake had made everything blow up in his face.

The problem was, Bradley actually had said all of that shit, but that was before he really got to know you and Everett. It made him sick now to think about the implications of what he had said.

You hated him now. He knew you must. He had managed to hurt your feelings so deeply, he didn't know if you would ever look at him again. But the truth was, Bradley was the one with all the baggage. He was the one who didn't know how to make the right decisions. He was the one who made everything too complicated. Not you. Not Everett. The two of you were perfect. And he thought for a moment that he could have you. But now he knew he had been wrong again.

And there was no doubt in his mind that Carole Bradshaw would be so disappointed in him right now. Because she would have reacted the same way that you had. She would have stood up for her only son and protected him no matter what.

He groaned as he got to his feet, swaying as he set down his half empty bottle of alcohol on the kitchen counter. He needed to get it together and make it to the tee ball game in six hours.

You would be there! He could try to talk to you then. Unless you kept Everett home instead. Bradley felt like crying, so he just dragged himself to his bed and passed out with his uniform pants still on.

Bradley's alarm barely woke him up as he dragged his sandpaper tongue across his teeth and moaned. His head was throbbing, but he managed to get up and get right in the shower at the prospect of seeing you. He didn't have time to shave or eat, but he did make it to the ballfield early, just in case.

"You look like shit," Bob told him, and his expression was something akin to disappointment.

Bradley closed his eyes briefly. "I feel worse. Promise."

"Did you talk to her?" Bob asked. Bradley wasn't exactly sure how much everyone knew. He hadn't stayed at the bar for very long after you left, preferring to drink at home alone. Chalk that up to another poor decision made.

"She doesn't want to talk to me. I'm such an idiot."

Bob just kind of shrugged as he set things up for their game against the Tiny Blue Jays. "Molly is angry, too," Bob informed him. "She's barely texted me back since yesterday."

Now Bradley felt even worse, because Bob's relationship with your sister shouldn't have to be the collateral damage of his word vomit. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll figure it out," Bob mumbled. "And you need to apologize to Team Mom until she forgives you. Did you tell her that you said all of that stuff a long time ago? You barely even knew her then."

"Yeah, but I still said it," Bradley replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "And between the slap to my face and the valid points she was yelling at me, I didn't get a chance to try to explain myself. But she's not going to want to hear it anyway."

Then Bradley's heart was skipping erratically in his chest, making his head throb more. When he saw Everett in his blue uniform, he squinted against the sunlight and almost took off running. But it wasn't you. It was Molly. And she looked pissed as hell.

"I'll be right back," Bob mumbled and headed for her instead. Which was fine with Bradley, because now something much worse was happening. Everett was bounding toward him, and he didn't know how he was supposed to react. He just braced himself for the pain.

"Hi, Coach Bradley! See? I remembered to call you Coach Bradley instead of just Bradley since it's a tee ball day. When can we go back to the park again?"

Bradley wanted to cry. "Hey, kiddo. I missed you all week when I was away." And that was the honest truth.

Everett just shrugged. "Practice was still fun, because my mom made it funny. And we won our last game, even though you weren't there. Do you think you can still win Coach of the Year if you missed a game?"

Bradley reached for Everett and pulled him in for a brief hug while Molly glared at him right past Bob's elbow.

"Where's your mom, kiddo? Is she coming?"

Everett shook his head. "No, she was crying this morning, even though she didn't want me to know it. She does that sometimes, but it's usually only right after we see my dad."

Fuck. Bradley made you cry as hard as Danny did. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly feel worse, the honest words from a first grader twisted the knife a little deeper. Bradley had assured you that he was better than both Frank and Danny, but he was actually the worst one of the bunch.

"You want me to help you with your cleats?" Bradley asked, and soon he was changing Everett's shoes while Molly kissed Bob on the cheek. He felt a tiny bit better that maybe he didn't fuck things up for Bob as well as himself. But then Everett said something that made him want to drink another bottle of bourbon and pass out.

"Coach Bradley, are you still excited for the Phillies game next weekend?"

Bradley froze with the laces halfway tired on Everett's right shoe. He swallowed hard; in all of his fucking up, Bradley had forgotten about the upcoming game. He was going to have to disappoint Everett, because there was no way you would let him take your son to the game now.

But he didn't know what to say other than, "So excited, kiddo." Then he sent Everett to start warming up while he pulled out his phone and tried to call you again. Voicemail. A second time. Voicemail. He'd left you so many messages already, but he decided to leave another one.

"Kitten. I'm sorry. I miss you. Please, Kitten. Please, call me back."

Bradley was surprised the Tiny Eagles managed to win the game. He was having such a hard time focusing as Molly's glare was burning a hole in his back. But every time he turned toward her, she was looking elsewhere. When the game ended, he took off in her direction, leaving Bob to clean everything up.

"Where is she? Is she okay? Is she at home?" he asked Molly, who was finally looking directly at him as she stood up.

"That's none of your business," she said, and Bradley knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with her, but he was going to try anyway.

"Molly, listen, I fucked up. I said that shit before I really knew her. Before I really knew what I wanted."

She crossed her arms over her chest, and the look on her face had Bradley taking a step backwards. "You called Everett baggage," she hissed as her eyes flashed. And if her sister was a Kitten, then Molly was a feral street cat that desperately wanted to give Bradley rabies.

"Please, I'm begging you. Will you talk to her for me? Ask her to call me back?"

Molly's harsh laugh had him feeling hopeless. "She doesn't owe you anything, and neither do I. She's not your girlfriend. And now she's never going to be your girlfriend."

"Molly! What do I have to do to get her to talk to me?" Bradley asked, ready to beg on his knees for the chance to explain himself. "I made a mistake. But I care about her. And Ev."

Molly shook her head sadly at him. "Even Frank wasn't this bad. At least he didn't mind that she has a son. Who, by the way, is the sweetest child in existence." Now Molly looked like she was going to cry.

Bradley took his hat off and balled it up in his hands. He realized he probably looked insane right now, but he just needed to know how to get you to listen. "I can explain myself to her. I'll beg her to listen to me. I'll bring more flowers and more baseball cards for Ev. I'll-"

Molly cut him off with a jab of her index finger to his chest. "You can bring all the flowers and cards you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you're not good enough for her. You're not good enough for them!"

His voice was soft now, because he knew she was right. "Molly, please help me talk to her."

"You know, she wants to pull Ev from the team," Molly replied, picking up his gear bag as he ran over. Bradley felt sick; he wouldn't get to see you or Everett anymore. "The only reason she's not going to pull him is because of the friends he's made, and because she's a better person than you. But she thought about it. I hope you know you hurt her that bad."

Everett plopped down on the bench, and Bradley watched Molly instantly switch modes and turn into the loving aunt that she normally was. He really was bringing out the worst in everyone right now.

When Everett was all ready to leave, and he and Molly were heading for her car, Bradley jogged up next to him. "Kiddo? Can you tell your mom something for me?"

"Sure, Coach," he replied, smiling up at Bradley like he always did.

Molly was staring daggers at him again as he said, "Tell her I was wrong before, but now I have my priorities straight."

"Come on, Ev," Molly told him, taking him by the hand and pulling him along. "We need to go."

Bradley knew he wasn't like Danny or Frank, and he just needed an opportunity to prove it. But he didn't want to upset Everett who was looking back at him with wide eyes. "Tell her I miss her, and I can't wait to see her next time! Bye, Kiddo!"

"Bye, Coach!"

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

Luckily Molly was working overnight tonight and offered to take Everett to his game, because you were in no way ready to see Bradley today. Your heart was actually broken, and you were just so embarrassed.

Your kid's hot tee ball coach. Could you possibly be any more predictable? Any more of a chiche?

You were still in your pajamas forcing down some toast when Molly brought Everett back home around noon. "We ate lunch," she told you. "Everett wanted the baseball Happy Meal toy."

"Thanks," you mumbled, knowing that your little sister who spent the night holding your hand wouldn't judge you for looking like a mess right now.

"Mommy, are you sick today?" Ev asked, and your heart sank.

"Yeah, Ev. I'm not feeling great."

He set his Happy Meal toy down and started taking off his shoes. "I know what will make you feel better! Coach said he missed you! And he can't wait to see you next time. And that he has his prior tires straight."

Molly sighed and shook her head. "He means priorities."

"Yeah. Priorities," Everett said, agreeing with her.

You felt like crying all over again, and now your phone was vibrating with another call from him. You ignored it as Molly told Everett to grab a snack and eat it out on the back deck. Once he was out of earshot, you told your sister, "He keeps calling and texting me. I don't understand why he cares so much, since I'm clearly a joke to him and all of his friends."

Molly sprawled out on your couch. "He actually seems upset, and I am telling you that begrudgingly, because I want to hate him."

You twisted your fingers together, afraid to know, but you asked anyway. "Did he say anything to you?"

"Yeah," Molly said with a laugh. "Plenty. He begged me to get you to talk to him. I honestly thought he was going to plead on his knees. He said he made a mistake, and he doesn't feel that way now at all."

Oh. Well that was interesting. Your phone vibrated again.

"And Bob said Bradley is an idiot, but he didn't think he was actually trying to hurt you," Molly added. "Of course I also asked Bob if he knew that Bradley felt like kids were baggage and moms were a waste of time."

"What did he say?" you whispered, setting your phone down before you caved and answered it.

"Bob said he would find it hard to believe that Bradley actually felt that way now, based on how much he loves you and Everett. He used those words, not me."

Your heart was pounding as your doorbell rang, and Molly sprang up to answer it. "Oh, shit," Molly mumbled as she carried several huge bouquets of colorful flowers into the kitchen.

As you opened the card attached to the first one you picked up, your eyes went wide. All of the cards said the same thing, written in Bradley's handwriting.

I'm so sorry, Kitten. You and Everett are NOT baggage. You're perfect. I didn't mean it. Please, talk to me.

"Well, you don't need all of these flowers, so I'm taking some to my apartment," Molly said, kissing your cheek as she scooped up a few bouquets. "I'll come by in the morning after work."

And then she was gone, and you were sitting inside a massive floral display with very mixed emotions.

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

Bradley went home and drank the rest of Saturday away until he was asleep. If Molly wasn't willing to help him, and he could understand why she wasn't, then he would have to figure this out on his own. Because at this point, he didn't know what he was going to do without you and Everett. He needed you. He needed to fix this.

On Sunday morning, he took a shower and got himself cleaned up. Two days of looking like a disaster was enough, so he dumped the rest of the bourbon down the drain as well. Then he grabbed the one thing he needed and drove to your house, nervous as hell that you wouldn't answer the door for him even if you were home.

He parked behind Molly's car and sighed. She was acting as your bodyguard right now, that's how badly he had fucked up. Either you or Molly didn't want you to be left alone. He climbed out of his Bronco with the binder tucked under his arm, and he made his way up to your front porch.

Before he could even knock, the door swung open to reveal an exhausted looking Molly in wrinkled scrubs holding a cup of coffee. "What do you want now?" she asked, and Bradley stood back far enough that she would probably miss him if she tossed the coffee.

"Will you please tell her I'm here?"

"She's not home," Molly replied coolly.

"Her car is in the driveway," he replied.

Molly sighed. "She's soaking in the tub, and she doesn't want to talk to you."

Bradley ran his hand over his face, unsure how much he should push. But then Everett came bounding out onto the porch and into Bradley's arms.

"Coach! I mean Bradley! What are you doing here? The Phillies game isn't until next Sunday! And Career Day isn't until Wednesday!"

Bradley's heart clenched with need. If he couldn't take Everett to the Phillies game, he didn't know what he would do. The kid would be crushed, and truthfully, so would he.

He knelt on the porch and held up the binder. "I just came by to give you this," Bradley told him, really examining his face. He looked so much like you. He could see some of Danny there as well, but there was no denying that Everett took after his mom.

"What is it?" Everett asked, but when he opened it and saw the plastic pages filled with baseball cards, his eyes went wide. "No way! Are these for me?"

"Yep. All yours, kiddo." Bradley had grabbed one of his binders at random, and probably just handed a six year old a collection worth a thousand dollars. But he didn't care. It didn't matter. Bradley swallowed hard and glanced at Molly before he asked Everett, "How's your mom?"

Everett just shrugged while he looked at the baseball cards. "She said she doesn't feel good. Something must be hurting her, because she keeps crying sometimes."

Bradley let the feeling of dread wash over him as Molly sipped her coffee. "Do you think she would let me take you to the park and pitch some balls?" he asked. But before Everett could even get excited, Molly cut him off.

"Not today, Ev. Remember, I'm taking you to the movies after lunch."

Bradley pressed his lips together and patted Everett on the shoulder as he stood up. "Another day, then."

When Bradley pulled away from the curb, Everett was waving to him while holding the baseball card binder, and Molly was standing behind her nephew, flipping Bradley the middle finger.

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

On Monday, Bradley flew like shit. He couldn't pay attention, and he was honestly a little nervous that someone was going to get hurt.

"What the fuck was that?" Nat asked him once they were back on the tarmac. "I'm team leader! You need to listen to me!"

"I'm sorry," he told her. "You're absolutely right. I'm just distracted today."

"If this is about your Team Mom, you need to leave it on the ground." Nat was seething, and she had every right to be. "I know Jake blew your cover, but I tried to tell you from the start that if you were interested in her, you needed to get used to the fact that she has a kid!"

Now Bradley was seething too, because nobody seemed to want to listen to his side of things. "I am used to it, Nat! I got used to it real quick! And I wouldn't want it any other way!"

"Then sort your shit out or leave it on the ground!" She stormed away from him without another word.

Then Bradley saw Maverick strolling his way and he tightened his grip on his helmet. "Listen, Bradley. I don't know what the hell happened to you in Lemoore or what your weekend was like, but you can't be flying like that. It's a liability. I'm grounding you for the week."

"What the fuck, Mav!"

But he just held up his hand. "There's no point in arguing with me. The Admirals don't want you in the air for a few days." Then he turned and headed back to the tower leaving Bradley alone in the bright sunlight.

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

You skipped practice on Monday. It had been three days since Bradley had seen you, and the only thing holding his heart together was the fact that Everett was still happy to see him.

"Hi, Coach Bradley!" he called with a wave as he ran ahead of Molly.

When Bradley headed toward the bleachers to help him change his cleats, Bob grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him. "Hey, I'd steer clear of Molly if I were you. She's not your biggest fan at the moment." At least Bob's face looked sympathetic.

"Yeah, I noticed."

Bob just kind of shrugged. "I took her out for dinner last night, and I tried my best to let her know you're not going to hurt her sister."

"Thanks," Bradley muttered. At least there was one person who didn't think he was horrible.

Molly stood to the side and let Bradley tie Everett's cleats while he rambled on about how excited he was for Career Day. When he paused to take a breath, Bradley asked, "How's your mom, kiddo? She feeling better?"

"She's at a work meeting with someone named Frank," Everett replied, putting his Phillies cap on backwards to match with Bradley. He didn't like hearing that you were with Frank, potentially alone. But then Everett added, "She's still sad, too. She took my stuffed Phanatic to sleep with it. I think she remembered that you said it was good for if you're having a hard time."

Bradley closed his eyes for a beat. "You should go start warming up," he whispered, and Everett was off like a rocket running toward Bob.

"She did give me a message for you," Molly told him as she sat on the bleachers and blew a kiss to Bob, who immediately started blushing.

"What did she say?" he asked, preparing himself to beg her.

"She wants you to stop sending flowers. I took some home, and she donated the rest to a nursing home. She said if you can't seem to stop, you can just send them directly to Bright Senior Living so she doesn't have to drive them there herself."

"Fuck," he growled, dropping down on the bench next to her and burying his face in his hands. He sat there for a bit as Bob started practice without him. He was so far out of his element. He had never chased a woman before in his life. He never saw the point in it until now. If he could figure out what to do, he would do it immediately.

"You actually care about her?" Molly asked softly, and Bradley turned to look at her.

"Not just her. Everett too. I can't get enough of either of them." His eyes were stinging as he watched Everett round the bases.

"Then why did you call him baggage?"

Bradley stared at the turf. "Because I was terrified of falling for someone who was outside of my wheelhouse. Someone with more substance. Someone who would make it impossible to stop thinking about them." He stood, realizing it was time to go help Bob. "I'm an idiot. Truly, Molly, I do understand that. But I said all of that shit weeks and weeks ago, when I was just starting to realize that your sister meant something to me."

Molly nodded at him, and just as he was turning to head toward home plate, she said, "Then show her you care about them. And tell her what you told me. I'll let her know I can't bring Ev to practice on Thursday. And I'm pretty sure you're still on the roster for Career Day on Wednesday."

Bradley's heartbeat was speeding up. He felt more alive than he had since he was with you at the Hard Deck. "Thanks, Molly."

"Don't thank me. I'm still pissed at you. I just want my sister and nephew to be happy."

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

You left work at lunchtime on Wednesday and headed to Everett's school. When you planned out a five minute presentation for his class, you realized he was right: you did have a boring job. How you were supposed to make accounting interesting for a bunch of six and seven year olds was beyond you. It also didn't help that you were having the shittiest week ever.

Not only were you missing Bradley and trying to get over him, you had been forced to stay late and work with Frank on Monday. Well, he had volunteered to stay late when he heard you were going to. And now you couldn't even lie to him and say you were seeing Bradley to get him off your back.

With a deep sigh, you opened your car door and headed across the parking lot in your suit and high heels, the hot sun making you uncomfortable in your long sleeves.

And then you heard his voice in person for the first time since Friday night. "Kitten."

You turned to see Bradley walking up the sidewalk in his flight suit, boots, and aviators looking impossibly handsome. You had been listening to his voicemail apologies last night, but the way he sounded in person made your spine tingle with need.

You tamped it down. "What are you doing here?" you asked, not bothering to look at him as he caught up to you.

He was silent for a beat. "Everett invited me."

You scoffed. "Well, I'm uninviting you."

"Kitten. Please."

"No," you said sternly. "Why even bother if he's just my excess baggage?"

Bradley stopped walking, and when you turned to look at him, he had the same expression he had worn after you slapped him across his cheek. "He's not," Bradley rasped. "He's perfect. And so are you. And I don't want to make him upset if I don't show up."

You rolled your eyes. "Come on." He followed you like your shadow, his warmth at your back. You thought maybe he was going to touch you when you signed both of them in at the office and got name tags. It seemed like he wanted to, like maybe he was holding back. And as much as you wanted to scream in his face, your body was betraying you by craving his touch.

"This way," you told him, and when you entered Everett's classroom with Bradley next to you, your son's eyes lit up. He waved at both of you from his seat, and you had to plaster on a smile. Before giving it too much thought, you grabbed one of the empty seats between two other parents, leaving Bradley to fend for himself.

You sat politely and listened to Harper's mom talk about neurosurgery. Then Peyton's dad talked about construction equipment. You gave everyone your full attention, firmly ignoring Bradley. You didn't even look at him once while you stood in front of the class and talked about how important math is.

Once you were finished, you kissed Everett's forehead before you returned to your seat. But then it was Bradley's turn, and you couldn't help but look at him.

"Hi, I'm Lieutenant Bradshaw, and Everett invited me here to talk about flying jets called Super Hornets." Every pair of eyes was glued to him as he gave a riveting presentation. Everett was practically vibrating with excitement at his desk, clearly so proud to have brought the most interesting adult to Career Day. You also noted that every woman was drooling over Bradley, including Everett's teacher.

It was crazy to think that for a short time, you thought he was going to be yours.

When everyone was done speaking, you popped out of your seat and told Everett you'd pick him up in a few hours, and then you were making a beeline for the door. You could hear Bradley calling your name, but you just kept going all the way to your car.

"Kitten, please!" He was right behind you now, and you saw his big hand shoot past your shoulder and hold your door firmly closed. "Can we talk?"

You turned to face him, and you were taken back to every single time he had walked you and Everett to your car after tee ball practice.

"About what?" you whispered. He had caught you off guard. You meant to start yelling, but all of the warm feelings he gave you were right there at the surface.

His eyes went a little wide as his lips parted, seemingly surprised you weren't shouting at him. "I'm sorry, Kitten. I fucked up. I should have never said those things, because I didn't even mean them."

You couldn't meet his eyes as you asked him, "Why did you say that to your friends? I feel humiliated. I feel like you think Everett and I are a joke."

"No!" he said, keeping his hand against the door and leaning a little closer to you. "You're not. And he's not. I said that so long ago, because I was instantly attracted to you, Kitten. And that terrified me."

You felt the fight draining out of you, and you knew you needed to get in your car and leave before he saw you crying. But instead you said, "Maybe you're right though. We're a lot to handle. I shouldn't have expected things to be easy."

When you turned and tried to open your door, Bradley held it shut. "Will you look at me?" You glanced at him over your shoulder as you felt tears stinging your eyes. "You and Everett are not a lot to handle. You're the perfect amount. Being around both of you makes me feel so good, Kitten."

You swallowed hard and shook your head. "Thanks for coming today, I guess. It made him happy."

He let go of the door and ran his thumb across your jaw. "I don't think I would be able to live with myself if I made him cry."

You nodded and ducked away from his hand. "I'll figure it out. Make it so that this doesn't break his heart."

"Don't say that, Kitten. I still want to take him to the Phillies game on Sunday. I want all three of us to go," he whispered as you turned your back fully to him again.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

You could feel his frustration rolling off of him, and his voice sounded panicked. "Where does that leave us, Kitten? Do I even stand a chance now?"

"I don't know. I need to get back to work. Bye, Coach."

This time he let you open the door, and he closed it softly once you were inside. When you pulled away, he just stood in the parking spot watching you.

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

Bradley ended up at the Hard Deck after Career Day at Everett's school. He was grounded from flying, you'd just told him you didn't know where he stood with you, and he was probably going to make Everett cry at some point this week.

He ran his hands over his face and nursed a beer for a while. When Nat and Jake showed up, eyeing him cautiously, he thought it would be to his advantage to just head home. He handed Penny some cash, but Nat rubbed his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I screamed at you on Monday."

"I deserved it," Bradley replied. "I wasn't being safe."

"You look fucking miserable," Jake drawled, leaning on the bar next to Bradley.

"You're literally the last person I want to talk to right now," Bradley replied through gritted teeth. "Thanks for Friday night."

Jake just shook his head. "Hey, I was just trying to get in her pants, okay? She's gorgeous, and you made it pretty clear the last time we talked about her that you were not interested."

Bradley couldn't even get mad, because Jake was actually right. "Well I'm pretty fucking interested in her now, okay? Stay out of her pants."

Jake just grinned. "I think I know what might help."

"This sounds suspicious," Bradley muttered, eyeing Jake cautiously. "Let's hear it."

"You still planning on going to that Padres game this weekend?"

"I don't know," Bradley groaned, pushing his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Well," Jake said as he signalled Penny for a drink. "My landlord's son is the head groundskeeper at Petco Park. I can try to pull some strings if you think it will help."

Bradley gaped at him. "Do it."

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

Molly is the sister I wish I had! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 14

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hellishjoel · 11 months

Text

sunnyside cemetery

5.6k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter

summary: A ghost haunts the kitchen. Or does it? A spooky night at the cemetery forces your feelings for Frankie to come to a head.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), swearing, pet names, mentions of insecurity, smut, public sex (is it if everyone’s dead? maybe), oral (f! receiving), squirting, cum eating, a little angst at the end for flavor

A/N: happy halloween!! thank you so SO much to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for her impeccable, unmatched knowledge of the inner workings of a kitchen and a diner/restaurant! Makes it so much more realistic.

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications to see the next time I update!**

“Oh- what the fuck, Christ, oooh Frankie,” you whimper loudly, grounding your heels into the dirt. You’re torn between running away from the feeling that is all too good, or staying, and enjoying your slice of heaven in this graveyard. Your orgasm is running a fever inside you, making you hot, losing your thoughts. It’s different from anything you’ve ever felt. He’s- oh god. “Frankie, you’re gonna make me,” you clench your eyes closed and whimper loudly, feeling him add more pressure to that perfect spot. “Fucking squirt for me, baby,” Frankie’s devilishly deep tone sparks a shock to your core, causing you to cry out in a bliss of agony.

It’s a cold and dreary night. The diner is dead, not a living soul in sight. Booths settle with dust, unaccompanied by any guest for hours, even days. Yellow fluorescents flicker ominously overhead. The windows at the very front of the restaurant weep droplets that have been falling since dawn.

The already weakly supported awning outside shuddered in the wind, attempting to protect the front door and any guests from the rainfall. The gusts made it nearly impossible to see out to the road.

Lou, the bus boy, was standing in the middle of the diner’s aisle, slowly mopping the same patterned circle over and over again while he listened to music playing through his earbuds.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The loud disruption was enough to make Lou’s head pop up and turn from left to right. He takes out an earbud to hear better. It was silent, lurking, the fluorescent light causing his head to ache. Maybe he was just hearing the awning squawk and bend to the will of the wind.

Just as he sighed, about to put his earbud back in, he heard it again.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Okay, that time, he definitely heard something. A thin layer of sweat coats the back of Lou’s neck, moving with precision as he slowly creeps over the wet mop streaks he’s made and inches closer to where the noise originates.

Lou stops in the kitchen, the swinging door whooshing behind him. He peers through the pass, no one in sight. He sighs and shakes it off. There’s nothing here. But then again, just as he turns, a muffled bang! bang!

Lou’s breath is seized, stripped from his lungs as he stands frozen in fear, staring with unblinking eyes at the walk in.

The door. It was pulsing. Snapping against its hinges, banging relentlessly in a horrific rhythm. It was a portal to hell! Lou was sure of it!

He skitters away with shaky legs, gasping with fear as he flinches away from the monstrous thing.

“Holy shit! The place is haunted!” The stick of the mop clatters to the floor, echoing through the diner as the lights flickered. Lou ran to his car and finished his shift early on Halloween night.

The walk in door bangs a few more subtle times, leaking cloaked moans and grunts from what’s inside. It wooshes open, cold trickling into the kitchen.

Frankie peaks his head out first. Checks left, then right.

“We’re good.” He mutters, securing his belt and fixing his hat.

You subtly clear your throat as you walk past him, retie the apron around your waist, and shake from the chill you got. The walk in was great for a quick makeout session, but nothing more. It was cramped as all hell.

“We’re not doing it in there again.” You huff, goosebumps riddling your body as you watch Frankie haul meats from the bottom shelf, a dainty label with messy sharpie highlighting the date of preparation and expiration in his handwriting.

“Hey,” he said with playful defense, “I had to get more burger meat, you followed me in there.”

You shrug and stroke your thumb across the red bandana on his forehead.

“You liked it.”

He scoffs playfully and nips at your uniform-covered shoulder as he walks past you with the meat. “Never said I didn’t, princess.”

You walk back out onto the floor, noticing a wet trail leading to the mop, but no one attending it. “Where the hell is Lou?”

You turn your head, share a look with Frankie through the pass, and shrug.

---

“This seems scary,” Tina whispers as she trails behind you on the side of the road.

“It’s not that scary.” You try to push down the smile on your face as you lead your diner crew after a late night Tuesday shift to the local cemetery. The rain had paused, but the dark clouds still loomed.

Tina, the new waitress, was nearly tripping over her feet in the dark, quietly squeaking her concerns to Paul. Paul stood about two feet above her and walked onwards like a subtle, silent giant.

Rudy, the owner’s son, came along, too. He wasn’t exactly invited, but you suppose he was eager to be a part of something. He catches up to your side and keeps your pace, much to your dislike.

“So creepy out here tonight. You, uh, want me to hold your hand?” Rudy asked with a dingy smile, reaching for your hand that skittered away on its own. Rudy was relentless and a pig, it made you squirm.

There were times during your shifts he would put his hand on your waist, play with the hem of your uniform’s skirt. You weren’t above spilling hot coffee on him to get him to back off, and there were times that Frankie would step in, but Rudy wasn’t an idiot. He started working his advances on you when Frankie had days off. You hadn’t told this to Frankie yet, you didn’t want him to get riled up over something as little as a creep with his hand up your skirt. You could take care of yourself. You just wish you didn’t have to.

“Uhm-” You start to say awkwardly, shuffling your flashlight to the hand closest to Rudy's, making it seem unavailable.

“I think she’s good.” Frankie’s protective voice barks from the back of the group, now weaving through the band of scared-to-death coworkers and walking protectively at your side. Like a strong, bold German Shepherd.

Rudy is forced to make room for Frankie on the walkway, huffing quietly as he takes a back seat and slows his pace, letting you and Frankie lead the pack.

Your smile is bashful and appreciative as you keep walking. His knuckles brush against yours, but you stay looking forward.

You had convinced the closing staff to come to Sunnyside Cemetery on Halloween, mainly to scare the shit out of them but also because you didn’t really have anything to do tonight. Well, besides Frankie, but you could do that any night of the week at this point.

Things were casual, nothing more, despite how attractive he became instilling fear in Rudy for bothering you. Far enough ahead of the group and losing them in the fog, you lightly hook your pointer finger around his, holding it as you walk off the road’s path and into the tall, wet grass.

“Why do they call it Sunnyside Cemetery? Kind of contradicting, don’t you think?” Tina squeaked until Paul stopped walking and looked down at her before he pointed across the road to Sunnyside Produce.

“They were here first… the cemetery just went with the flow.” He said with a monotone register before he walked down the grassy hill, much to Tina’s panic-induced speech about going back.

You sharply swiveled on your heel and pointed the flashlight at her.

“There is no going back.” A crack of thunder and lightning followed your harrowing sentence. Damn, that was perfect fucking timing. Your eyes lit up to Frankie’s, and he looked just as impressed by your eeriness.

Tina and Rudy whined but followed suit. Paul was just… Paul.

“Did you see that? Did it make me ten times scarier?” You whispered to Frankie excitedly as your sneakers squished moss and snapped twigs below you.

“Super scary, babe. Petrifying.” He said with his playboy smirk and dazzling eyes, even in the dark.

---

Once you got to the graveyard, you walked along the perimeter, finding a low spot where the fence wasn’t as high. You touch the cold steel beams, black and scraped with years of being out in the elements.

Frankie hops the fence and helps everyone else over. Besides Rudy. And besides Paul, because Paul was so tall, he practically just hurdled over it. Frankie tugs down your uniform when it snags around your upper thighs. You playfully smack him with your flashlight, watching as he shakes his head and smiles crookedly.

You and the other misfits made it to the main part of the cemetery, where the original founders of the town were buried. You walk through a small cloister covered in old grey cobblestone and moss. Ivy wove around cold, wet columns. Birds squawked ominously in the trees above.

“Okay,” you say as you weave through the different rows of headstones overgrown by tall grass with rotting flowers, humming curiously. “Let’s do this.”

Ouija board, planchette, candles. Frankie hands you his lighter, and you shield the wind around the wick.

“Woah,” Rudy said at the sight, quickly shaking his head as his hands fidgeted anxiously at his sides. “Didn’t sign up for no talkin’ board. Fuck no.”

“Sit,” Frankie says with authority, everyone making a weak circle around the board at his command.

Good boy, you think as you look at Frankie.

The group played for as long as you all could, scaring them off one by one on purpose as you guided the planchette around the board with the so-called answers from the dead.

Tina didn’t last past the first few rounds, eagerly asking Paul to walk her back to her car at the diner. Rudy took the opportunity to say he had to head out, leaving just you and Frankie by midnight.

“Such an ass scaring them like that.” Frankie hummed, his cigarette smoke swirling around him with the gentle wind.

“Oh, please.” You scoff as you reach your hand out for his cigarette, watching him share what was left. “You’re the one who made the piece move towards the word raise when Rudy asked the founders how to make the diner better. That’s a bit of emotional manipulation.”

Frankie snuffs up a short laugh, fidgeting with his lighter as he relit a candle that had been blown out from the wind. Suddenly, the rest of the lit candles were blown away as well. It was creepy and made the both of you stop in your tracks. An owl hoots in the distance. You crane your head from left to right, all of a sudden not feeling very alone.

“I’m cold.” You finally say, your legs covered in goosebumps as you shudder at the chill that swept through the graveyard. Fog was sprouting from deeper in the woods that crowded the south side of the cemetery. Perhaps it was karma for scaring off your co-workers, but this was too much, even for you.

Frankie seems unbothered, taking his cigarette back since you were too occupied to enjoy it.

“S’just the wind. No real ghosts.”

You huff and shove at his shoulder as you move to sit on your knees.

“I know there’s no fucking ghosts, asshole.” You say with confidence before flinching hard and hiding your face in Frankie’s shoulder as a bird flapping its wings around the corner makes you cower for a second. You groan in embarrassment as Frankie locks his arm around your waist.

“Scared?” He sneers, flicking his cigarette butt away.

“M’not scared.” Your elbow juts into his ribs, and he releases you.

“Yeah, fuckin’ right.” Frankie scoffs as he watches you collect the items on the grass, shoving them into your backpack in a scatterbrained scurry. It always made you ill when Frankie had the upper hand like he did right now. Made a pit in your stomach.

Frankie could sense your fear, like a shark in the water. But rather than scare the shit out of you, like he knew he could, he decided to lighten the conversation.

“Graveyards don’t necessarily have to be scary, you know.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek and settle down beside him.

“A place littered with people’s rotting bones and corpses? That shit is scary, Frankie.” You correct, but he just shakes his head, smiles, and observes the mismatched gravestones.

“Not really, if you think about it. Lots of couples choose to be buried side by side or even together in the same grave as a sign of eternal love. There are lots of stories from medieval literature about lovers who took a lover’s leap off a cliff or a high place to be with their soulmate in the afterlife so they wouldn’t have to spend another second apart in different universes. People even have weddings in graveyards. There’s lots of good about life and death here.”

Frankie’s eyes droop.

“I don’t think people fear graveyards, or churches, or hospitals, I think they just… fear death.”

Something changes in Frankie’s face, a sadness of sorts. Like he knew a lover that was lost in another universe. Curiosity sparks you, gently bringing your fingers up to graze over the stubble on his cheek with your thumb.

“Well,” you whisper in your close proximity, climbing onto his lap. “I don’t fear death. I fear what’s after death. No one knows what’s next, not even you, old wise one.”

Frankie cracks his signature smile and rolls his eyes, pecking your lips and gently tugging on your lower one as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

“You think if I go down on you in this graveyard, any wild spirits will inhabit your pussy?”

You throw back your head and laugh, tugging him to the ground as you lay on your back and hike up your uniform.

“God, I hope not. If you die, you better not haunt my pussy.”

Frankie smirks as he spreads your legs and levels his chest to the ground, kissing and nipping at the inside of your thighs with impatience. “Can’t make any promises, baby.” Pulling your panties to the side, he ducks his head lower to your core. The brim of his hat nudges against your stomach, you watch as it falls discarded to the side on its own as his face sinks over your warm heat.

You hum as his warm body relaxes yours, shuddering lightly as your sticky core becomes exposed to the outside world. Fingers wind into dark chocolate locks, his beard lightly scratches at the inside of your thighs.

“I’m going to taste like work sweat,” you murmur awkwardly, coming to terms with the fact that you worked a full shift without showering yet.

He scoffs, nearly offended, before he flattens his tongue and licks a slow swipe up from your weeping hole to your clit. His tongue parts you and circles around your anxious nub of nerves. You whimper as you fist his waves, fluttering your eyes that were previously taking in the night sky.

“Like tasting you like this,” he murmurs, locking his arms around your thighs to keep you spread. “So fuckin’ juicy.” He says greedily, yanking you towards him as a gasp leaves your parted lips.

Your stomach twists as he fully envelops you with his mouth, marking his territory with his tongue and spit as he suckles on your clit.

“Fuck- oh my god,” you murmur into the night air. You’re too rowdy to lay still. Especially when his tongue starts darting in and out of your entrance, massaging your tight walls as he goes. You whimper as you sit up on your elbows and watch the master at work, in awe of his devotion to you. More appropriately, to your pussy.

“This isn’t so scary anymore,” you say between panting breaths. “I-I’m looking at the stars, and you’re eating me out in the moonlight- fuck,” your chin tilts up to the sky, feeling your stomach contort with pleasure.

“I know,” he mutters, “kinda romantic.”

“Shut up, Frankie.” You groan as you shove him back to your center, where he shares a breathy laugh between you and your core.

You feel a coil tighten in your abdomen, and you hate to admit it, but he’s given you the best head you’ve ever received. No one makes you cum like he does, and never as hard. It’s Earth-shattering, rousing you, making your heart race.

Frankie pulls his mouth off to slick up two of his fingers through your folds, dripping with arousal. He elicits a whimper from you as he lightly nudges his fingertips against your clit in the process. A muscle behind his jaw twitches as he inches two fingers into your warmth, feeling your walls stretch to allow the intrusion.

All you can think about is how his heavy cock is resting against his thigh, but he had no intention of using it. He was much more determined to make you feel good. The thought makes you melt into the ground, into his touch, into his blind kindness.

You feel awfully close as Frankie starts massaging your walls, but you feel this odd ball of anxiety start to fester in your womb. You’re no longer relaxing. Like a cascade down your body, it shows. Your head twitches, and your jaw closes. Your chest grows tight, as does your stomach. Suddenly, your thighs are closing around his head, and not in a fun way. You whimper quietly and loosen the fingers in his hair.

Frankie’s eyes flick up, slowing his movements and pulling his mouth off your clit. You tip your head down, and confusion crosses over his features. Knit eyebrows, parted lips covered in your arousal. His hold on your thighs loosens, you bite your lip and let out a shaky breath as you look at the moon.

“Hey,” Frankie says softly as he moves to his knees, and you clamber to sit up on your elbows.

“I’m sorry,” you gush awkwardly, closing your eyes and putting one of your hands over your face in embarrassment. “I just- sometimes I can’t finish, I get this weird feeling like someone shined a fucking spotlight on us, and now I can’t- I’m sorry,” you rush breathily, feeling slightly like an ugly monster below him. You smelled like work, and the thought never left your head. You probably tasted like gross sweat and smelled horrid. Even if it wasn’t true, that’s how you felt.

Frankie speaks your name, his silken southern drawl slowing your heart rate as you unshield your face. You felt warmth coursing through your body, your legs still closing at the slightest.

“What’s goin’ on? You can talk to me.” Frankie’s never seen you in the slightest self-conscious. At work, you’re always bustling with an attitude and playfulness. This was different, he could sense the shift from your body language alone.

You sigh and give in, feeling his large hand come to rest over your knee and rub soothing motions into your thigh.

“M’..” you sigh and roll your eyes, opting to shift your focus to the gravestones. “M’worried I don’t taste good.” You mumble.

Frankie slowly smiles at you, which, for whatever reason, sort of pisses you off.

You fight the urge to sit up fully and push your uniform down. “See? I knew I did, just-”

“No, no,” he said with more authority, taking one of your hands and interlocking his fingers with yours. “You don’t. I just wasn’t expectin’ you to say that.”

You frown, which he hates to admit is fucking adorable on you. That little pout of yours.

“What do you mean?”

Frankie fights off a scoff and rolls his eyes a little. “It’s just that every time I’ve gone down on you, it’s after work. I like how you taste no matter what.”

Shyness creeps up the back of your neck, and you fight off a smile. You didn’t realize that he was right. He’s gone down on you thrice now, each time was either during or after work. He clears his throat and continues.

“I like how you taste after work. Right after a shower, there’s no… zest. I’m explaining in cooking terms because that’s what I understand.”

You stifle a giggle and let him go on.

“Work is like your seasoning. I’m sure you taste good all the time, but I like it best right now. I like it because it’s you.”

Your chest swells at his words, you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from smiling too big. There’s that weird feeling in your heart again. The weird one you get when you’re with Frankie, and he talks like that. You sigh quietly and clutch the grass at your sides, anxiously fiddling with it and twirling it around your fingers.

“How did I taste after you went down on me in my truck after our shift?” He raises a fair point, cocking his eyebrow as his fingers cascade down the inside of your thigh again, and you slowly part your legs.

“I liked it. A lot.” You whisper with a smile, to which he graciously returns.

“I liked it, too.” Frankie sneers at you, forcing you to roll your eyes in return. “Can I try one more time? Want you to feel good. Wanna swallow your cum, baby.” His words are absolute filth. You’re not sure if you have it in you to speak, so you nod in a haze.

“Lemme hear you say it, princess. Tell me like a good girl.”

Your stomach swells, and you force out a weak sigh, already falling into a gentle lull as his fingers coast around your thighs, but not where you desperately need him.

“Fuck you.” You say with fire. He sees it in your eyes, he fucking loves it. “Touch me, Frankie. Please.”

That’s his girl. The one he knows.

“Lie back, baby girl. Let me take care of you.”

You shyly smile and find the ground again, head to the grass as you close your eyes, and he returns with a new vote of confidence. So do you.

Frankie moves to lie down on his stomach, you part your legs enough for his head. You take in a sharp breath as he touches your still desperate bundle of nerves. You swallow the lump in your throat. He kisses your clit delicately, and you already struggle to breathe. He focuses solely on your clit with long, beautiful strokes from his tongue that massage you into a dreamy state of mind. He’s delicate.

Now you’re really off to the races.

Your back lightly arches as he does sweet circles around your anxious clit, feeling that coil once again tighten in your abdomen. His hand moves to hike up your uniform once more, unveiling your tummy to the nighttime air. You’re sure you should be freezing cold right now, but all you can feel is an inferno at the center of your core. His fingers gently nudge once more at your entrance, his eyes flicking to yours for consent. You quickly nod but then remember his little rule.

“Y-Yes, please,” you whimper.

He reenters and pumps his fingers a few times to allow your walls to relax, humming softly in appreciation. Then he fucking curls them inside of you. You gasp as the tips of his fingers find your spongy spot, and it feels like a bolt of lightning strikes your core.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper, which only fuels Frankie.

“Here?” You don’t even think he has to ask because you’re breathless. He settles for your chaotic nods and the way your fingers desperately move from clutching the grass to his chocolate locks.

His other hand snakes around your thigh and uses your exposed stomach to his advantage. Or maybe it's yours. You’re not really sure what he’s doing, adding pressure in different spots to your lower abdomen. Then it clicks.

Your breath is robbed from your lungs, and you rut your hips against his fingers, grinding desperately to stay right in that spot. This new friction was driving you mad, running you up a wall, and causing a gush of arousal to flood over his fingers.

Your orgasm is running a fever inside you, making you hot, losing your thoughts. It’s different from anything you’ve ever felt. He’s- oh god.

“Frankie, you’re gonna make me,” you clench your eyes closed and whimper loudly, feeling him add more pressure to that perfect spot.

“Fucking squirt for me, baby,” Frankie’s devilishly deep tone sparks a shock to your core, causing you to cry out in a bliss of agony. A harsh wave starts to form, crashing over your entire body with only seconds left. This was it. You could either run away, put the distance between you and Frankie for good, call it coworkers, and nothing more. Or let this feeling bind you to something more.

Panic rises in you, but you don’t have time to act on it.

All the tension in your body and the thoughts in your head disappear into euphoria. With a sharp gasp, your back arches, and you just… spill. It almost felt like you had to pee, but you knew it wasn’t exactly the same. You burst like a broken pipe. Your heart rate is through the roof. It makes you lose your hearing, and everything sounds muffled.

“Frankie!” You moan out, feeling your thighs tremble around his head as you soak him. But he’s not stopping, like he wasn’t fucking done with you. He’s still chasing your orgasm, which arrives shortly after he suckles on your clit. You’re still too shaky to fully register what has happened to you.

Frankie hums in satisfaction, lapping up your cum-squirt mixture. You’re so sensitive, you can feel your heels lazily dig into the ground to try and move away, and the fingers you have knotted in his hair are ripping him away from his treat.

“Please,” he grunts, “lemme finish, taste so goddamn perfect.” You shyly grin at the moon and settle, letting him lap up the mess he’s made of you with a blush hot on your neck.

Your vision is stars, a hazy feeling corrupting your brain. You’ve just fully collapsed in front of him, you’re not sure how he expects you to walk back to the diner after this.

Frankie puts your panties back into place once he’s had his fair share of you, pulling your uniform down and opting to lay beside you. The two of you stare at the stars as you relax on the grass once more. Frankie wraps an arm around your shoulders and lets you curl into his side.

“That was…” you try to piece together any sort of sentence to let him know it was good. Better than good, it was fucking incredible.

“I know.” He says with his signature goading attitude. You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s smirking. So you punch his stomach lightly and smile into his pec.

“You’re an ass.”

“I know that, too.” He kisses the crown of your head, and you settle on watching the stars.

They look like a cloudy mess to you at first. A jumble of the universe loosely tossed into the sky with no regard. It makes you feel small and pointless. There’s an entire world out there, but when everyone looks up, we all see the same. A disarray of stars and the moon.

You wonder what he sees, what he thinks. His shirt smells of pine and cigarettes. His cologne-sweat mixture creates a tingle in your chest. You’ve seen so much of him, more than you ever did before in the years of working together. You know he likes to cook, and he’s damn good at it too, plays jazz on vinyl, smokes Marlboro Gold cigarettes, likes the car freshener that looks like a little tree, and he likes you.

It’s a fact, not a matter of opinion. He looks at you like you put those stars in the sky. Not God or whoever created the universe. You. And it was fucking frightening to know someone cared about you like that.

There’s that horrid feeling again, squeezing at your heart.

“I want to get out of here.” You whisper with uncertainty. Rain clouds start to take away the night sky once more, a signal to flee before the droplets become a downpour.

“Okay. We can pack up our stuff and head out-.”

“No,” you interject, turning your head to look up at him, your feet weakly finding the ground and dragging the zipper along your backpack until it was shut. “You can stay if you want, I need to get home.”

Frankie scoffs incredulously and sits up anyway, making you more annoyed.

“M’not just gonna let you go off alone in the middle of the night. What are you, a fuckin’ lunatic?”

Anger bubbles in your chest as you make your way to the fence. “Oh, fuck off, Frankie.” You curse as your sneakers crunch twigs and fallen orange leaves.

“Okay, hot shot, calm the fuck down.” He says with anger laced in his voice. Good. He finally sees you as Miss Not So Perfect. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?” He asks as he follows you nonetheless, his long legs carrying him at a much faster pace, catching up to you in no time at all.

“I’m going home, and you’re not coming with me.” You say as your short height meets the fence, stopping you in your tracks. Well, fuck.

You take in a deep breath through your nose, turning to Frankie, who has an eyebrow cocked and his arms crossed like a smug bastard.

“Well, go right on ahead. M’not stoppin’ you.”

No, you’re not, but this stupid fence is.

You pout and look from side to side, trying to find a way around this. A way around him. By the time you glance back at his face, his expression has melted from anger to sadness. You felt like you had just kicked a fucking puppy.

You can see it in his eyes. He’s asking himself, what did I do? What the hell happened back there?

There’s no time to think or care about how he feels; the wind is whipping your hair around, and the leaves dance around your ankles.

There’s a gap in the fence that you end up using. Frankie trails behind you the entire way back to the diner, but he doesn’t speak to you. You feel like you might throw up, the ups and downs of tonight were giving you the spins.

You arrive at the diner’s dreary parking lot, and only your beater car and Frankie’s rusted truck are parked side by side. You push your tongue against your cheek as you fiddle with your keys, trying to unlock your car door. You think rain lands on your cheek. You quickly wipe it away and feel its warmth, realizing it’s a tear.

Frankie waits by his tailgate, arms crossed, a walled-up expression on his face as he watches you struggle. Despite you pissing him off, he watches you like that damn German Shepherd again, making sure you get into your car and no one bothers you. You finally stab the right key into the door and yank it open, standing at the entrance. You swivel on your heel and glare at him.

“What do you want from me, huh?” You ask, the dead of silence filling your ears and polluting the distance between you two with tension. “I asked you a question.”

“I don’t know.” He grumbles. A muscle behind his jaw twitches as you near closer.

“Bull-fucking-shit, Frankie. I don’t know if you want a fuck buddy, a girlfriend, whatever it is, we’re keeping it casual, and that’s it. Or maybe nothing at all would be better.” You say defensively, crossing your own arms and mirroring his body language.

“Did I give you the wrong impression that I wanted you to be my girlfriend? Did I ever even fuckin’ ask you to be my person?”

You scoff and feel a scraping in your stomach. No.

“No,” he continues with your silence, “So why are you acting like I want something more from you?”

The silence settles as rain pelts the top of your head. Pain is laced on your face, feeling exposed.

“You don’t?” You meekly ask, trying to make your face strong when all you want to do is crumble.

He hesitates but ultimately shakes his head and shrugs. Hurt crashes into your chest, you feel like you’re in that horrible dream where you’re endlessly falling, unable to wake up.

“No.” He finally says again. He looks off to the highway, listening to the gentle humming of cars passing in the distance.

You can’t put into words how you’re feeling. Confusion the most of all. You could have sworn that he… You thought that maybe he… No. He said no, he didn’t want anything more from you. He didn’t see you like that, like someone he wanted to be with permanently, he saw you as an opportunity. You can’t deny you saw the same one.

So, fine. The line in the sand had been drawn with anger and self-loathing.

“Good.” You finally muster up, shrugging casually and returning to your car. “M’glad we’re on the same page.”

Frankie finds comfort in staring at the cold, wet ground. "Yeah. Yeah, me too, princess.”

Your lip snarls as you slam your door loudly and peel out of the parking lot.

All you could think about was how you broke your rules for him, went against your better judgment, and fooled around with him anyway. Maybe a little part of you was looking for something out of Frankie, but you stopped everything in its tracks to save yourself from this stupid feeling of opening up to someone again. You ruined it. You chucked what could have been into the dumpster out of fear of the unknown.

Despite leaving him in your rearview mirror, that feeling in your heart still squeezes, maybe even harder now. And it hurts far worse than anything you could have imagined.

---

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fieldofdaisiies · 4 months

Text

Modern AU based on Blue Neighbour by Troye Sivan. Eris and Azriel used to be childhood best friends and in their teens they discovered they have feelings for each other. Beron found out about them and punished Eris and forced him to break the contact with Azriel. But when Beron dies years after, Azriel… songs used for this story: Wild, Fools, Talk Me Down, Youth, Rush, One of Your Girls (all from Troye Sivan) for @azrisweek | azrisweek masterlist | read on ao3 | includes explicit content

A loud, buzzing sound rings out in the otherwise silent meeting room. Azriel's hand immediately slams down on his thigh, trying to press the silent button of his phone through his suit pants — without success. He needs to pull it out, which is something Rhysand, his boss, doesn't like to see at all.

The phone is in Azriel's hand for a mere second when Rhys's voice echoes through the meeting room, his gaze stern when it lands on Azriel, "No phones in the meeting room!"

I guess that rule doesn't apply to everyone here because when the baby daddy gets sent a photo from little Nyx, he is rather quick to check his phone, completely ignorant to the no-phone rule, Azriel thinks, but doesn't dare voice.

He only tips his chin at his best friend and slides his phone back into the pocket of his pants, only for it to resume its vibration against his leg.

Rhys' gaze is still on him, still stern and slightly reprimanding. Azriel decides not to risk it and wait until the end of the meeting. The call can't be that important, can it?

Later, Azriel learns that he was wrong. The call was important, and the news he learns from the accompanying text messages pulls the rug out from beneath his feet.

Two missed calls and a message appear on his screen alongside some Instagram notifications that now seem very irrelevant. Azriel enters the break room, his phone already unlocked, and opens the messages from his mother. His heart slams to a halt.

Mum: Beron Vanserra passed away in the early morning hours. We are all invited to the funeral on Sunday, 11 am. Greg and I are leaving this evening. Join us, please! Love, mum!

Azriel's hands start to tremble, turning a little clammy. He never considered going home again, not after everything that happened, not since New York had become his new home.

He opens the chat, his thumb hovering above the letters, unsure how to respond. He doesn't want to leave his mother on read, especially not after a message like this, but he has no idea what to say… or do.

Azriel: Thank you for the information. I'll consider it.

He shoves his phone back into his pocket and helps himself to a cup of coffee before returning to the meeting room.

Maybe going home after more than ten years isn't that bad of an idea, Azriel thinks, but he knows it will re-open wounds that have finally almost healed.

And Azriel would see him again. Beron Vanserra's son. Eris Vanserra. And Azriel doesn't quite know if he likes the thought of that.

How will it go? How will he feel seeing him after such a long time? The last time he saw him, he was seventeen, a boy; now, he is almost 28, a grown-up man.

A lump the size of a peach starts to form in his throat, and he has difficulty swallowing even the smallest sip of coffee. His hands are still shaky, and breathing seems a little harder now. Azriel's gaze moves to stare at the tiny droplets of rain cascading down the floor-to-ceiling window.

They haven't spoken since he moved away, though the first few years in New York were filled with missed calls from Eris that went unanswered and were eventually blocked. He couldn't do that to him, give him hope, string him along, not when there was so much at risk.

Azriel tips his head to the side to think, to recall a moment in the past, a few strands of hair shifting with the movement. A few years ago, when Nesta, his best friend's girlfriend, downloaded Instagram for him, he found Eris and tried to follow him. The man never accepted his request and left Azriel with no idea what had happened in Eris' life. It makes him feel uneasy. Sad.

Did Eris move away? Did he stay in the village they grew up in? Did he fall in love? Did he marry? Has he fallen in love again?

Somehow, the thought of this makes a large crack appear in Azriel's heart, and he shakes his head a little. He will have his answers soon and then have to live with them, no matter the outcome. He wouldn't be staying long, only for the funeral. He doesn't have to worry or care about Eris for longer than the weekend. It should all be alright–

"Break's over!" Rhysand claps his hands. "Let's continue, shall we?"

Reluctantly, Azriel follows him back into the meeting room, his mind racing with questions he tries to push away. He doesn't want to think about Eris or seeing each other again,- but he can't avoid the directions his mind wanders.

Will they talk? How will they act around each other after so many years? How will Eris speak to him? Treat him?

His string of thoughts –thank God– is cut short when Rhysand directly addresses several questions that Azriel is too distracted and unfocused to answer. Usually, he is perfect at his work, but right now, his thoughts have strayed all over the place. He fidgets with a pencil, constantly flipping it over or tabbing a melody against the tabletop.

In the past, he had no real reason to consider returning home. He didn't have anyone to return home to. His mother moved away with him, and his abusive father left with his new family to settle in the West many years before he'd left that village with his mother. Azriel hasn't heard from his father since their move, which he isn't unhappy about. He is relieved to no longer have such a person in his family.

"The documents are on my desk by Monday, got that, Az?"

Azriel clears his throat and nods. He has no idea which documents Rhysand is talking about, but he’ll figure it out. Now, other things matter more- namely, making up his mind. Should he attend the funeral with his mother and her new husband, or should he stay and leave his past entirely behind?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Mum: We're leaving at seven. Have you made up your mind? Love, mum.

Azriel has only stared at the text since returning to his loft. It is long past seven now, and he hopes that they have already left. It would buy him more time. More time to consider his decision and think about all the possibilities that could come up when he returns home. When he sees him.

Eris Vanserra. His first friend. His best friend. His first love. His first kiss. His first time. His first heartbreak.

Returning back to the village he grew up in, to the place he once loved so much and that later hurt him so much, isn't an easy decision. He was a young man then and hoped never to spend a day without Eris. They had made plans for their future that he tried to push as far away as possible in the years after he left but plans that he now remembers.

They often talked about it, relaxing in the meadow below the bright afternoon sun, limbs entangled, lips mere inches apart.

What if, what if we run away?

What if, what if we left today?

What if we let them fall behind and they're never found?

Everything was good in those moments. Together, they had dreams, hopes of a promising and bright future shared with each other. They wanted to move to New York together, study at the same university, get married, adopt children - but it was all wishful thinking. None of it came true. Azriel went to New York alone because he had to. But nothing was keeping him in his hometown either. No one was holding him there…

Azriel folds a scarred hand over his eyes. The marred skin of his hands still serves as a reminder of his twisted and messed up childhood, a reminder that his step-brothers never faced anything more than reprimanding for whatever they did to him.

He doesn't allow himself to go down that traumatic path, and he reminds himself that their torture is wholly and entirely over and will remain in his past. He will never see his father, step-brothers, or step-mother again. That won't happen. He wouldn't allow it.

Instead, Azriel thinks back to the day he left and the tears he shed. He cried from the village to the airport, wetting the fabric of his mother's shirt as she held him in her arms and let him sob into her shoulder. The questions that plagued him on that ride to the airport plague him now, and he mulls them over once more:

What if Beron had never caught them? What if they had never fallen in love? What if he stayed and—?

Azriel sits up and wipes a cold hand over his face, brushing back a few strands of hair. A deep sigh parts his lips, and he turns on his phone. The picture of him, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and Cassian staring back at him from the glowing screen

He recalls vomiting the moment he opened the door at the airport, and later, on the plane, he opened up to his mother, telling her everything about his sexuality and Eris. His mother had long suspected that Azriel and Eris had been more than just best friends, but she never said anything, wanting to give him time to open up. While holding his hand on the plane, she told him she didn't care if he liked boys or girls and would love him nonetheless. He will always be her little boy whom she is immensely proud of and loves wholeheartedly.

Azriel inhales a breath that feels too heavy and too large for his lungs, which have somehow constricted. He starts to type.

Azriel: You don't have to wait for me. I'll take a cab tomorrow morning.

Instantly, almost as if waiting for his reply, his mother sends a thumbs-up, and then three dots appear. It will take her a moment to answer. Azriel knows this, and he closes his message. In the meantime, he goes on Instagram, flicking through pictures of his best friends and their girlfriends, and with a loud sigh, he closes the app again. All those happy couples…

Azriel lets himself fall back into the bed, groaning when his sore back slams into the pillows. He drops his phone onto the mattress beside him, waiting for the ping of response.

Mum: Alright, Azriel. But let me know when you arrive so we can let you in. We'll be staying at Uncle Devlon's place. Love, mum.

Azriel is now the one to send a thumbs up.

Mum: It will be fine, my dear, don't worry about seeing Eris. I'm sure he missed you just as much as you missed him. Don't be afraid.

He leaves the message unanswered, trying to figure out how to respond. He isn't particularly afraid or worried. He doesn't know what he feels—too much at once, too little, or maybe nothing.

Azriel flips his phone away and folds a hand over his eyes, shielding them from the city lights filtering through the window. New York is falling asleep, but he is wide awake, far away from sleeping.

Deafening silence fills the room, surrounded by darkness; he suddenly realises that he is worried that Eris will ignore him. Concerned that there will only be small talk between them. Worried that Eris has moved on without him and no longer thinks about him like Azriel does. Worried that–

There will never be a future for them. And maybe this is good. Maybe Eris has moved on—of course he has, Azriel thinks. He has probably found a wife or a husband, and perhaps he even has children now. Ten years is a long time; a lot can happen in ten years.

Azriel's head starts spinning from all the thoughts and questions, so he decides to get up, shower, and start packing for his weekend trip.

His hair is still damp when, half an hour later, he returns to his bedroom. He dons some sleeping pants and falls into the bed, curling up on his side. His alarm is set, his phone is in flight mode, and his vague but adequate messages to Cassian and Rhysand are sent (he's going on a little trip for the weekend, and his destination and purpose are unrevealed).

A silent tear slips out of his eye, accompanied by a soft sob. One thing becomes apparent: yes, he is going home, but he is not going home to him. He will return to the village he grew up in, but not to Eris.

The lie he's told himself these past years, that he stopped caring about Eris, that he has stopped thinking about him, suddenly falls apart. Azriel has thought about him. A lot. And he still does. And sometimes, many times, he finds himself yearning for how it once used to be.

He wants to sleep next to him. And that's all he wants to do right now. And he wants to come home to him. And that's all he wants right now.

He doesn't just want to return to the place he once called home; he wants to return to where he fell in love with his best friend. He wants to return to Eris Vanserra, but not as a man whose heart was broken but as someone who can dare to hope for a future together.

He still wants Eris, and he hates that even after ten years, his wanting has never changed.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Azriel's heart presses down on him like a rock heavy with emotion as he closes the cab door. He waves off the driver with his weekend bag in hand and sunglasses pushed back into his hair. He sets off down the dry path leading into the centre of the village and to his uncle's house. The town is small now, and at 28, Azriel notes how close everything else is- his father's house and, a little further down the path, Eris' family home.

Almost like in a movie, pictures flash in front of his vision—of a childhood that seemed unburdened for everyone on the outside. A childhood that maybe wasn't too warm and loving, but one he shared with Eris. They grew up almost in the same exact way, with loving mothers, brutal fathers who didn't shy back from using violence, and brothers who supported that kind of action.

Azriel's jaw tenses, and he stops, only staring ahead at the houses, the facades weathered and dulled over time, at the village stretching out in front of him. Most things have stayed the same. He can make out the same swimming pools, houses, and living rooms he and his friends used to play in. Unchanged little houses with trees on the hills in the far distance where he and Eris used to spend quiet nights together.

As he walks a little further, he nears an old garden fence. The colour of it is already crumbling, but Azriel still remembers that it was here, right by this fence, next to the big apple tree, where they almost kissed for the first time.

"Are you finally going to tell me what happened?" Eris raises a questioning brow at Azriel, who scrunches his nose in response, his eyes half-closed due to the bright sun. He holds tightly onto his worn school bag and then says, "There is nothing to tell."

"Azriel, I can see your blue eye; it is quite obvious." He reaches out, his fingers curling around Azriel's upper arm, stopping him from walking. "I thought we would share everything with one another."

Azriel shrugs a shoulder. "It was nothing. I ran into–"

"His fist, right. He hit you again, didn't he?"

Azriel shrugs again.

"I am going to punch him."

"After I punch your father," Azriel chuckles, but the sound lacks warmth or humour.

"This is messed up," Eris mumbles and steps closer to his best friend, tipping his chin up with his thumb. "But you need to be honest with me. Tell me when he hurts you so I can be there for you."

Slowly, Azriel starts to nod, but then his eyes drop to Eris' lips. Suddenly, He is so much closer, only mere inches away. Eris' eyes are locked with his but also momentarily slide to Azriel's lips, his Adam's apple bobbing. "We can't do this," Eris whispers, but instead of moving away, he leans closer. Azriel does, too, holding his breath. "I know," he answers, his tone equally breathy. "But–"

Eris's baby brother Lucien interrupted them, calling Eris' name from the porch and then running towards the two best friends. Lucien was only seven years old then, and Eris picked him up easily when he reached them—he must be a teenager now.

Azriel remembers that they were both relieved that their moment ended that way, but only two weeks later, they really kissed, and from then on, there was no more holding back. They kissed a lot back then, but always in secret.

It was two months later that everything they had and loved ended. It was when Beron's cruelty reached its peak, and he—

"Azriel!" The squeaking of door hinges disrupts his daydreaming. "Didn't I tell you to let us know when you arrive?!"

"Mother." Azriel dips his chin after having turned around. "It's good to see you." He cracks a small smile when his mother throws up her hands in despair.

"You never listen to me, Azriel Marino!"

"I always listen to you, Mama." After closing the distance between them, he wraps his arms around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head. "Always."

Eleni Marino harrumphs loudly but hugs her son tightly. "Come in. Your uncle is looking forward to seeing you."

Azriel doubts that. His uncle probably only wants to see if he is still the small weakling he always used to call him. But the joke's on Uncle Devlon because Azriel is no longer small or weak. He has grown a lot, including his muscles, which Devlon probably never thought possible. He has changed a lot, and he can't wait to see the look on his uncle’s face.

"Uncle," Azriel greets upon entering the living and dining room, his chin dipping to his chest, his voice low. His gaze runs over the old man sitting in his armchair - ten years can do a lot to a man – who once used to be a strong and fit army general, is now an old man with white hair and sunken cheekbones.

"Azriel," he croaks and rises from his chair. "Let me look at you. You have grown up." He assesses him through half-closed eyes, shuffling towards him. "You've grown a lot, boy. How has college been treating you?"

Azriel wants to open his mouth to say that he dropped out of college after the first semester and decided to work instead, but when he meets his mother's gaze, she shakes her head, and it tells him everything he needs to know.

"College is good. Got good grades and made friends," Azriel says instead, knowing that to keep the peace here, it is wiser to lie a little. Devlon would only ask why he dropped out and then blame them for not having enough money to afford it. Consequently, he would blame Azriel's mother for not working hard enough to make studying at a uni possible for her son. And then blame her for not staying with his father. Abusive or not, it had never mattered to his uncle. So, this small white lie has to do.

"How's life been treating you, Uncle?"

Devlon shuffles away, wiping his mouth with his hand, and plops down on the armchair again. "Good, good," he mumbles, pulling a blanket over his lap and leaning back. Azriel is sure he dozes off a moment later so he turns back to his mother with a chuckle.

But there is no amusement on her face. Looking worried, she reaches out her arm to clasp Azriel's hand. "Lunch will be ready in around an hour. Go see him now."

Azriel's throat bobs, his fingers naturally curling tighter around his mother's hand. "What if he doesn't want to see me?"

"You'll only find out if he wants to see you if you go to him. Otherwise, you will be plagued with what-if questions and doubts for the whole weekend. Go see him and talk to him. I'm sure he has missed you just as much." Eleni inhales deeply, "After all, you also used to be best friends at one point."

Best friends and so much more, Azriel thinks. Slowly, he begins to nod, his hands having turned cold, his heart feeling a little heavier, and his feet are somehow rooted to the ground, making it impossible for him to move immediately. He needs just a moment longer, holding onto his mother's hand like he is once again the young man who was sobbing into her shoulder when they left ten years ago.

"Go now, Azriel. I'm sure he's still at the chapel, preparing everything for the funeral tomorrow."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

With his heart rapidly pounding, Azriel walks down the familiar path to the chapel he used to take many times when he still lived here, his mind swirling with memories. Every step he takes feels heavier as he nears the old house of prayer, wondering if Eris will truly be there.

He has mindlessly followed his mother's suggestions and now doubt gnaws at him about whether he should have come. Uncertainty clouds his thoughts, and nervousness tightens his chest. What if Eris doesn’t want to see him? What if he ignores him? What if he is mad at him?

Will he even recognise him after all these years?

Of course he will, Azriel thinks. He hasn't changed much. He has only grown and built up some muscles. His face is still the same.

His heart nearly breaks through his ribcage when he reaches the door, the crisp air burning down his throat with every inhale. For a moment, he feels like fainting or throwing up, but then his hand reaches for the door handle and pulls it down. The door opens slowly, too slowly, and silently. So silently that Eris doesn't notice him.

He is standing at the altar, arranging some flowers, and for a moment, Azriel forgets how to breathe.

Eris Vanserra is more beautiful than ever, breathtaking, to say the least. Azriel can't tear his eyes away, slowly letting his eyes run over the man in front of him, and his knees wobble. Eris has cut his hair, but not too short. He also gained some muscles and now wears a beautiful beard that perfectly complements his look.

Azriel stops on the threshold, unable to move further, hand still on the door.

"Stop that!" Azriel playfully smacks Eris' hand away, lying on the grass, laughing.

"A flower in your hair would look cute."

"I am not cute," Azriel grumbles, sliding his hand into Eris '. The red-haired boy lies down atop his chest and tips his head back to look up at Azriel.

"You are cute." Eris grins.

"Stop being cheesy."

"Never!" Eris smoothies his freckled hand up Azriel's chest, humming contentedly.

In the middle of this meadow, in the middle of nowhere, far from their village, they are safe. They have taken their bikes to get as far away from prying eyes as possible. Only here can they be true to themselves and love each other more deeply than friends love each other.

"Eris," Azriel hums, lifting the hand that isn't in Eris's hold to brush it through his boyfriend's auburn locks. "You make my heart shake, bend and break. But I can't turn away. And it's driving me wild. You're driving me wild."

Eris hums softly. "I love you, but why do I only find out now that you are one to spout poetry?"

Azriel's laughter rings out over the meadow…

It was probably the last time he had laughed so happily and freely. This moment was beautiful, as was the whole day. Azriel remembers that this day was also when they first slept together.

When he finally catches himself, his hand lets go of the door and he takes one step into the chapel. The inside is cold, and the scent of polished wood, aged hymnals, and candles lies in the air, mingling with the aroma of incense that adds a touch of spice.

Azriel inhales deeply, bracing himself for what he is about to say. A simple greeting, nothing spectacular, but he has no idea if he is ready for it. For whatever is about to follow the greeting.

But he doesn't have to speculate. Not when Eris has already noticed his arrival.

"I didn't think you would come." He places a candle next to the flowers, then steps back from the altar and turns to Azriel. His eyes run over Azriel slowly, and small flames flicker in Eris' eye. "But here you are. After ten years."

Azriel nearly chokes on his saliva, but in a croaky voice, he manages to say, "My mother—" only for Eris to interrupt him.

"Of course, your mother told you to come here," the red-haired male cuts in. "Of course, she is the reason you are here. She has always checked in. For the past ten years. Has always sent messages for Christmas and my birthday." A small, nostalgic smile appears on Eris' lips, and he wipes his hands down his thighs, clearing the soil and petals from the flower arrangement.

Azriel didn't know that, and it infuriated him that his mother had never told him—how dare she! How dare she keep contact with Eris and never tell him?

"Don't make it sound like a reprimand," Azriel grumbles. "I wasn't the one to break up–"

"You know why I broke up with you!" Eris counters.

"Because you were a coward."

A snarl parts Eris' lips, hurt flashing in his eyes, and at the exact moment, a pang of hurt pierces right into Azriel's heart. Is this truly how their first meeting after ten years goes?

"Says the one who didn't reach out a single time in all those years." A look of disgust spreads over Eris' face. He shakes his head and then approaches Azriel, stopping right before him. "Not one time."

"I tried to reach out, but you wouldn't accept my request on Instagram!" Azriel snarls,

"I don't even use this app," Eris retorts, "My little brother's girlfriend downloaded it for me, thinking it would be a good way to socialise and maybe meet a partner."

Azriel doesn't really know what to answer. He hoped their first meeting would be different after such a long time, but he had false hopes. Of course, it would go exactly like this. He should have reached out. He should have called, texted, come here, something.

But he didn't and now must pay the price for it.

"I didn't forget about you. Is that what you want to hear?"

A cold huff parts Eris' lips, followed by a cynical chuckle. "Hm, too bad that I did. And now I've got things to do. As you might know, my father died." He brushes past Azriel without saying another word, shoving the brown-haired male by his shoulder, and heads for the chapel door.

He doesn't give Azriel a chance to say something. A moment later, he is gone, and the door falls shut, a tremor coursing through Azriel at the loud pang.

He is taken right back in time. To the fateful day when his whole life fell apart. The day when Beron–

"I bet you're already hard for me." Azriel chuckles softly, his hand placed on Eris' bare chest, slowly travelling lower until it rests right above Eris' crotch, only the blanket and Eris' boxers separating between them. His lips find the spot right beneath Eris' ear that makes his boyfriend elicit the most sensual noises. Azriel loves those noises and could listen to them forever, so he lets his teeth run over Eris's sensitive skin, then pokes out his tongue and licks it.

"Always," Eris hums, hips jerking in response to his boyfriend's touch.

When Azriel's lips ascend, placing a trail of kisses up his boyfriend's throat, he slides his hand beneath the blanket, palming Eris through the fabric of his boxers.

Their lips meet in a frantic kiss, tongues fighting for dominance when he lets his hand slide beneath the fabric, but—

But the door slams open only a blink of an eye later, rattling the whole room. Beron barrels inside, seething with anger.

He most definitely drank a lot at the bar beforehand. He should have been longer, a few more hours.

Azriel only remembers a little of what Beron said to them, but a few words stuck.

"This is disgusting," he spits. "You disgust me!"

He hurdles for the bed, but both boys are unable to move. He is too shocked about Beron catching them and worried about what will happen now that he knows.

"What do you think you are doing, Eris Vanserra?" Beron shouts, pulling Eris up by his arm, and it doesn't take long for the first slap to land upon his face. "Rolling around in bed with a boy! You disgust me." He slaps him again, this time harder.

By now, Azriel is out of bed as well, screaming at the man to let go of his boyfriend and tugging at Beron's arm, but the man is more muscular. He shoves Azriel away; the young man knocks his head against the bedframe, and his vision goes black. Pitch black. Just like his heart, nothing but void filling the place that once used to beat happily for his boyfriend.

The moments after are a blur of consciousness and unconsciousness, and the next thing Azriel remembers is Eris breaking up with him, his face bruised and marred by markings of Beron's anger.

His throat is dry when he leaves the chapel, the back of his mouth aching. He couldn't help him back then because Eris didn't let him. He broke up with him and pushed him away — Beron prohibited them from ever meeting again. He claimed that Azriel had ruined his son, called him all kinds of homophobic nicknames, and threatened to destroy his mother's life should he ever try to get close to Eris again.

It was the most devastating moment of his life, surpassing even the time when his brothers burned his hands. Beron’s cruelty inflicted wounds on his heart that would never heal.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Azriel's sleep is restless, constantly rolling from one side to the other, the sheets tangled between his legs, his bare chest coated in cold sweat.

Moonlight filters through the curtain-framed window, casting the room in a gentle, blueish glow. It's still night and nowhere close to morning.

He raises his hand, letting his fingers coast over his lower lip.

"You need to smile, Az." A grin, reaching from one ear to the other, spreads over Eris' face while he is staring into the camera. "You are always so broody."

"I'm not!" Azriel snaps and playfully shoves his elbow into Eris' ribs who yelps.

"Idiot!"

"Say that again!" Eris turns to his best friend, and his breath catches. He reaches out, but stops himself.

"Idiot," Azriel chuckles and moves closer.

"Again." Eris leans in, eyes fluttering shut for a second, then dropping to Eris' lips.

"Id—" Eris' lips close over Azriel, but instead of pulling back, he kisses him right back, his hand falling to his neck, bringing him in a little closer. All hesitance is erased within seconds; there is only Eris on his mind—and his lips.

At first, their mouths meet clumsily, but soon they find their rhythm, lips parting, tongues exploring, tangling, and dancing. Eris places his hands on Azriel's hips, formally having kept them at his side, and that a little awkwardly. He draws Azriel closer, deepening the kiss and eliciting a soft moan from him.

"Not just best friends, huh?" Eris mumbles when pulling back from the kiss. A string of saliva still connects their lips, which he wipes away with the back of his hand.

Tears build up in Azriel's eyes. "I'm in love with you."

"I know," Eris answers, his thumb wiping over Azriel's cheek, catching some stray tears. "And I'm in love with—"

"Fuck!" Azriel rips away the sheets and sits in bed, his whole body feeling clammy from the cold sweat that had built up due to his vivid dreams. He knows he can't stay here, and he knows exactly where he needs to go. He just needs to see Eris and talk to him. He can't let the conversation from earlier hang in the air like this. He needs to fix what he ruined.

Grabbing the sweater he had earlier discarded in the room and donning it, he is out of the door before he can question his decision to go see Eris. He slips into his shoes as silently as a gazelle and then out the door, hoping his mother won't wake and question him about his whereabouts the following day.

Azriel straightens up when he walks down the path leading to the gate at the end of the garden. It creaks a little when he opens it, but he ignores it, only one target in mind: Eris. He still knows the way to Eris' place like the inside of pockets. (Maybe a little suspiciously, he queried his mother in the afternoon about whether Eris still lives there, and she confirmed it, so he knows exactly where he needs to go).

Azriel feels a sudden surge of energy – he wants to talk and fix what has been ruined this afternoon. And in the ten years he was absent.

He walks faster through the large, looming trees, their branches bending in the wind and leaves rustling and swirling.

Azriel remembers that Eris's favourite season always used to be autumn, and maybe this is a good sign. It is autumn now, visible everywhere outside.

But his blood runs cold, and his heart slams to a halt when his eyes land on a scene that also twists his gut. Hot and thick, jealousy bubbles up inside him, making the back of his mouth taste bitter.

"Well," Eris laughs, his features bright and joyful, his arm wrapped around the blond male's shoulders. "Thank god I have you."

Tamlin, if Azriel remembers correctly, flashes Eris a big grin. It makes the content of Azriel's stomach sour, and bile creeps up his throat. He can't believe that he truly lost his first love to him. This spoiled, rich prick!

"You are so lucky, Vanserra, to have me. What would you do without me?"

"I guess I would be hopeless," Eris laughs, pulling back his arm and letting it fall to his sides. "Thank you so much, really. For the arrangements, I couldn't have done them all alone, and with you being the best–"

Azriel can't make out the rest or hear what comes after best, but he can only guess that the word that belongs at the end of the sentence is boyfriend. Or worse, husband.

He can't believe it, and in his fury, and by trying to get closer, Azriel doesn't see a more prominent branch on the ground. His foot catches on it, causing him to trip and twist his ankle as he falls. "Fuck!" Azriel groans when his hands come in contact with the damp soil, and then pine needles pierce his skin. "Fucking bastard!"

He sits back on his heels and knows the moment he does, it was a big mistake. His ankle hurts like hell, and he has to bite down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from loudly alerting Eris to the fact that Azriel's sneaking around.

This is all so fucked up, Azriel thinks, and only wants to cry.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

"There you go," Eleni hands Azriel a new cold pack, then lets her hand rest atop his head. "You should have woken me, I didn't even hear you fall."

"I tried to fall silently," Azriel answers sarcastically and groans when he shifts on the couch. His ankle has swollen significantly overnight; stepping on his foot hurts insanely, but he wouldn't let it show. And he would most definitely never reveal what exactly happened. Another small lie – he tripped at the staircase when he got himself something to drink during the night.

He doesn't know if his mother truly believed him, but she didn't ask any further questions, and Azriel is more than grateful for that.

"I've been meaning to take a little boat ride with you, Azriel, but I guess we can forget that now."

As if good old Devlon could still ride a boat, Azriel thinks. "What a shame," he says instead, glancing at his uncle but then back at his ankle and the cool pack. The outer ice layer already starts to melt, and small droplets of cold water run down the sides of his foot.

Devlon doesn't say anything; a few minutes later, he asks Azriel's mother to follow him outside. They leave, and after checking if Azriel is alright with being alone, Eleni goes back into the kitchen to continue with lunch.

For a moment, Azriel wonders what his stepfather eats when his mother isn't there. Who cooks for him? Or does he order food or eat at his neighbours?

Honestly, Azriel doesn't care, so he rests his head on the pillow again, gets comfy, picks up his phone, and finds a few unread notifications. Most are from Cassian, who sent him photos and videos or tagged him somewhere. He decides to ignore them for now and clicks on the message from his good friend Gwyn.

Gwyn: Karaoke at 7, my place?

Azriel: Sorry, I can't.

Gwyn: ☹️

Gwyn: Are you brooding?

Gwyn: Should I get the romance movies out and come over to your place with some ice cream?

Azriel: You‘re not funny, Berdara…I'm busy.

Gwyn: Busy? Busy how? Are you on a date? 😏

Gwyn: 😏😏😏😏

Gwyn: Is he hot? Send a pic if he is!

Azriel places his phone screen down on the couch table and blows out a long breath. He lifts his gaze to the window, where he sees his uncle and stepfather standing outside in the garden, discussing something about the old cherry tree. He hears his mother in the kitchen, still cooking, and knows he has a bit of privacy.

He picks up his phone and clicks on Gwyn's name. Her lovely smile pops up on his screen when it rings, and then her voice sounds through the speaker, and Azriel lifts his phone to his ear.

"Hey!" Gwyn says, her voice tinged with a hint of worry. "You're alright?"

"I went home."

"Home to your apartment? Or home like…Massachusetts home?"

"The latter."

"Oh god!" Gwyn's voice is loud and tinged with surprise. "I'll ask again, are you alright?"

"I guess I am, I–"

"Eris?"

Just like his other best friends, Gwyn knows about his past with Eris. It wasn't too easy to open up, but on an emotional night together on his rooftop terrace with quite a bit of alcohol in their blood, he poured his heart out to his friend.

"I thought our first time seeing each other after such a long time would go differently."

"I'm sorry, Az," Gwyn mumbles sadly. "But I think you just need time. Maybe you can ask Rhys if you can stay a little longer?"

"I don't think it will help much." Azriel inhales a deep breath and sighs loudly. "Ten years is a long time, Gwyn. And not checking in with him once…it hurt him more than I could ever imagine." He lets his head fall back into the pillows.

"I understand, and I know that it is a damn long time, but if you still love him, it doesn't matter," Gwyn answers.

"It isn't weird that I still love him after such a long time?" Azriel asks, heart aching so much he folds a hand over his chest.

"Nope," his friend says, popping the p. "The heart wants what it wants, and if two souls belong together, they will eventually find their way back to each other. It isn't weird that you still love him; your first love will always play a big role in your life."

"Thank you."

"There's Nothing to thank me for, Az. Go get your man now." Her laughter is radiant even over the phone, and it gives Azriel the energy he needs to take the next step and do as she said: get his man.

"You think you can make it to the funeral tomorrow or– oh, I am so sorry, I didn't know you were on the phone."

Azriel places his phone down and shakes his head. "The call just ended, and yes, Mama, I can."

He has to. He didn't come all this way to stay in his uncle's home.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Another sleepless night follows the previous one, and as silly as it might seem to anyone who finds out about it, Azriel leaves Devlon's house once again in the middle of the night. This time limping, though. He drags himself down the staircase, which seems so much longer when you have a torn ankle. He manages to open the front door as silently as possible and slips through it.

It is the only chance he gets. The funeral is the following day, and then he will leave again. He has to talk to Eris, having been a coward all afternoon.

Once again, he is met by the crisp night air, only the sound of the wind dancing on the lake nearby and rustling the leaves of the large, looming trees in his ears surrounding him.

Picking up a few pebbles, he heads to Eris' family home. He walks down the small concrete path he has walked probably over two thousand times in his life. It still looks almost the same; a few trees have been cut down during his absence, but other than that, the buildings, the pavement, and the fences are still the same.

Azriel allows his gaze to stray, looking into some front yards. Even in the dark, he can make out the small swimming pools and swings. He remembers how he and Eris often met up at night, sitting on the swings in his uncle's garden, talking for hours about anything and everything.

They mostly only returned to their homes when the sun started to rise and slept until midday (of course, that was only possible during their breaks).

Azriel smoothes his hand through his hair, his heart having and picking up speed the closer he gets to Eris' place. Yesterday he was stopped, but tonight they will speak. His ankle still hurts, but he barely pays any attention to it, so focused on all the thoughts and questions in his mind.

What if he never moved away? Would they have found a way to be together and maybe already be married now?

He knows this is a silly fantasy, but one that is so beautiful it almost draws tears to his eyes. He can imagine them being married. He can imagine it so perfectly and loves the thought of it—and that even after ten years.

He and Eris fell asleep within each other's arms every night, waking together, having breakfast together, going to work, and then spending the evening together. And that on repeat for as long as they live.

It is what they always dreamt about back then. And it is what Azriel still thinks about now. It felt like that with no one he dated in the past ten years. He never felt like that. He never felt like he would love to spend the next 50 years with them, but with Eris?

With Eris, he can imagine everything.

His heart is racing like a wild horse when he enters the front yard of the large house, half of it swallowed by the large, looming forest behind it. They playfully used to call Eris' home Forest House when they were children, but when Azriel considers it now, he has to admit it really applies to it – it is a forest house.

He circles the house until he reaches his destination, still knowing exactly which window belongs to Eris' room. He climbed through it many times in their teen years, sneaking in in the middle of the night to–

Azriel cuts off his thoughts and turns his attention back to the pebbles in his sweaty palms. His gaze lifts to the window, and before he can stop himself, the first pebble slides out of his hand and strikes. Silence follows. He throws another. Then another. And another.

He is about to give up, his heart crushing in his chest, pressing down on his stomach, when a light flickers on in Eris' room. Eris appears in front of his window and glances outside, his long red hair tousled, and he is only dressed in thin sleeping pants.

Azriel lifts his arm, waving, and it takes Eris a moment to adapt to the dark and then spot him. He opens his window, shakes his head, and grumbles in an annoyed voice, "Go home and sleep!"

But Azriel won't give up that easily. "We need to talk." He is too stubborn to give up this time.

"So you can call me a coward again?" Eris huffs loudly.

"We need to talk about us," Azriel presses.

"At three in the morning?" Eris braces his hands on the windowsill, leaning closer. "My father is getting buried tomorrow, I need to sleep."

Azriel swallows his nervousness and worry, and his hands ball into fists, crushing the pebbles. "Please, Eris. Please, listen to me."

Eris steps away from the window, and Azriel's heart drops, just like his shoulders. The light in Eris' room goes off.

Then there is nothing but silence and darkness. The darkness creeps in around him. The wind howls, and a shudder courses through Azriel. He is shaking when he bends down to pick up some pebbles again, his ankle aching fiercely, but it is nothing compared to the pain inside his heart. It hurts so much.

But he won't give up like that. Not so easily. He messed up the previous day and in the years prior. This is his last chance, and he is going to take it.

The moment he lifts his hand, ready to throw another small stone, the house's back door suddenly opens.

Azriel's breath catches, and he feels like his knees will give in at any moment.

There he is. Having donned a thin tank top, Eris stands in the doorframe, his eyebrow raised. "Talk."

Azriel takes a step forward, trying to act as if everything is fine. "I am sorry for calling you a coward." He limps another step forward, grinding his teeth hard to bite back on the pain.

"Okay," Eris answers tightly, then his gaze dips, and he looks at Azriel's very obviously swollen ankle. "I assume that happened when you tried to spy on me Friday night? Did you see what you wanted to see?" Eris raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, the muscles in his upper arms rippling with the movement.

"I wasn't spying on you."

"Of course, Spymaster." The corner of Eris' mouth kicks up when he uses the nickname some kids gave Azriel in their childhood. He always used to spy on the adults and steal cookies and cakes when they didn't look, earning him this title. Azriel has completely forgotten about it, and his lips part in silent surprise.

"I went for a walk."

"At three in the morning?" Eris closes the back door behind him. "That's a normal time for people to take a walk."

"You were also taking a walk with your boyfriend."

"Boyfriend!" Eris almost shouts, then starts to laugh so hard he has to bend over. It infuriates Azriel, and he braces himself for hearing Eris say something like: "He is my husband, you dumbass."

"Tamlin is not my boyfriend." Eris has calmed a little and now approaches Azriel, his bare feet padding softly over the cool, dewy grass. "He is my best friend, and this guy is as straight as a pole and married to Briar. I'm not sure if you remember her."

Azriel can barely swallow around the lump of shame in his throat. "You are not–"

"No, Azriel. But why do you care?"

"Why do you think I care?"

"Yes, this is what I am asking, Azriel. Why would you care? When you didn't care enough to call a single time?"

"You'll never let me forget that, huh?" Azriel spits.

Eris closes the distance between them faster than Azriel can breathe and is in his face the next moment, forehead pressing against his. "Because it broke my fucking heart. It tore me apart and left my soul in shards on the ground. Because I loved you, and you just left me when everything fell apart."

Azriel's heart breaks anew. "Mum was moving away with me; I couldn't have stayed here alone."

"But you could have called."

"You broke up with me." Azriel flattens his palms against Eris' chest, feeling his warm skin despite the cold night air against his palms. But he doesn't push Eris away; he only rests his hands on his ex-boyfriend's chest. "I couldn't reach out again."

"Why?" Eris growls. "What hindered you? I thought you used to love me."

"I did love you," Azriel answers honestly. "That's why I couldn't reach out again. Beron hurt you so much because of me. He forced you to break up with me. He punched you bloody that night, Eris, I haven't forgotten about that. He broke your collarbone." Azriel swallows thickly, tears filling his eyes. "When I think back to this moment, I still hear your cries, I still see the blood–I couldn't let this happen again. You needed to get rid of me, and that for good."

"Azriel…" Eris breathes, and it seems as if he doesn't know how to continue.

Azriel's head starts to spin suddenly, having finally revealed the secret he kept to himself for the past ten years. He has finally given Eris the reason for his ignorance, and it feels like a heavy weight is lifted from his chest.

"You were too good to be good for me." Azriel's breath tingles Eris' skin, his gaze dropping to his lips. "You deserved so much better. You deserved someone else, someone better. You deserve someone better." Azriel looses a long breath that cascades down Eris' throat and his chest. "But that doesn't mean that I have stopped thinking about you."

"I haven't stopped thinking about you either," Eris admits, voice equally breathy, his hand sliding around Azriel's waist, bringing him closer. "Night and day, you have been on my mind. No matter what I tried, no matter who I was with, it was always you on my mind."

"It was always you, Eris." Azriel's Adam's apple bobs. They breathe the same air, their bodies almost flush against one another. And yet, it feels as if there are millennia between them. The time they have missed.

"Why haven't you told me before?"

"Because I was worried about you. I knew you would find a way to get to me and reach out, and if Beron found out–" Azriel inhales a long breath, his eyes close. "I never knew loving could hurt this good. And it drives me wild, 'cause when you look like that, I've never ever wanted to be so bad; oh god, you are still driving wild, Eris."

"You are driving me wild, Azriel," Eris huffs. "Showing up here like that, looking like that, and–fuck, I still want you the same way. Is that even possible after such a long time?"

Their lips meet in a hasty kiss, and their feet, even Azriel's injured one, move fully on their own accord until Azriel's back is pressed against the wall of the garden shed. Eris' hands vigorously roam his body, tongues tangling when their mouths open to one another.

Eris' hands and lips still know their way around, and it truly drives Azriel wild and insane. He feels like he is once again getting drunk on the taste of Eris, on the feel of his body against his own, and it seems like a fever dream that this is truly happening.

"You still want me, Eris?" Azriel breathes, their lips only parting for a slight second.

"Yes." Eris pushes against him, making him feel exactly how hard he already is, only from a few kisses. "I've never stopped wanting you. No one felt like you. Nothing felt like being with you. It was only ever you. And still is. I've wanted to hate you so much for leaving me alone, but I failed."

"I'm glad you did, because I did too. I failed at trying to forget you, at stopping to love you."

Eris' lips kiss a trail down the side of Azriel's throat, teeth grazing his skin softly and eliciting soft sighs from his former best friend. "You want me now?"

"I always want you, Eris," Azriel pants. "I have always wanted you."

Their bodies move fully on their own accord, guided and driven by sheer desire and need, the longing that has grown so much and so stark over the time they were apart. And after asking for Azriel's consent, there is no more holding back for Eris. For either of them.

Eris lowers himself to the ground, kneeling, and starts to toy with the button and the zipper on Azriel's jeans. They ignore the fact that they are outside, in the garden where people could see them. Their need for each other right here and now drowns out every little part of rationality.

After freeing Azriel's already half-hard length, Eris strokes him a few times, loving the soft, breathy gasps that leave Azriel in reaction to his doing. He smooths his hand down the hard length of his shaft, the skin yet soft beneath his palm, and then parts his lips.

"Ten fucking years," Eris rasps, tongue swirling to collect the bead of liquid already gathered at the tip before fully sucking him into his mouth.

He works him softly at first, and Azriel finds himself moaning at the feeling of his cock engulfed in the wet heat of Eris' mouth, his hand falling into his long red locks, tugging softly at first. Eris begins to suck harder and move his mouth a little faster; his hand grips the back of his mouth, holding on tightly.

Using his mouth and hand together, Eris hollows his cheeks and holds eye contact with Azriel, which is everything he needs to tip him over the edge. He bucks his hips into Eris' face until he comes with a shout, and Eris greedily swallows around him, drinking him down like he has been a starved male for centuries.

"Fuck yes!" Eris expresses when he sits back on his heels. He locks his hooded gaze on Azriel, his hand wiping over the drool and Azriel's come running down his cheek. "I've missed this."

"I missed you," Azriel answers and bends down, reaching for Eris to bring him in for a kiss, but cries out when his ankle twitches again.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"You regret what we did?"

"No," Eris answers tightly, carefully tending Azriel's ankle and applying the last bit of cream still on his fingertips. He wipes them clean on a cloth hanging from the table and picks up a bandage. Before he continues, he adjusts Azriel's leg on his lap. "No, I don't."

The moment Azriel cries out in pain, Eris immediately knows he needs to take care of Azriel's leg. He drags him inside the house to examine the injury despite Azriel's protests. Only a minute later, they ended up in the kitchen of Eris' home, now sitting at the dining table that is still familiar to Azriel, with only a small oil lamp lit on the kitchen counter.

"But why are you so calm then?" Azriel asks, hoping to catch his eyes, but Eris keeps looking at his ankle.

"I am just thinking…"

"About?"

"About us."

Us. It still sounds so beautiful, and when Eris says it, it gives Azriel hope.

"What did it feel like…going away, I mean." Eris lifts his eyes for a brief moment, hoping to catch his gaze.

Azriel sighs loudly. "It was awful. The first days, weeks, months. I only cried. I made new friends in New York that helped me out of my misery, but that doesn't mean I didn't miss you daily. I always thought about you and knew you were feeling the same." He wipes a hand over his eyes. "I knew that if I called you, I would only make it worse. For both of us. There was no way we could see each other again any time soon…"

Eris nods slowly. "I gave up at some point. I called a few times, but you never answered. Then, Beron forced me to delete your number and all the pictures I had with you. I could save a few on my computer, but the rest was all gone."

"All of our silly videos and photos?" Azriel asks and places his hand on Eris'. The man nods in answer.

"I'll try to find them on my old phone. I'm sure I still have it somewhere." A small smile appears on his lips and a little light returns to his eyes. "Also, those with your little brother." Azriel chuckles softly. "How is Lucien?"

"A menace," Eris breathes. "He was a sweet boy until puberty hit him with full force. He was all about girls and his appearance, but he still did well in school. He has been dating the same girl for a few years now. They got together when they were fourteen and are still going strong. She might be his soulmate. Elain, she's a sweet girl."

Azriel smiles at that. "I'm glad he's doing well."

"Yeah," Eris sighs. He deserves a good life. "He will be here for the funeral. He said it is a kind of closure."

Azriel nods slowly. "Did he move away?"

"No," Eris answers, "but he spends every other weekend with his biological dad."

Azriel remembers the little affair, the unspoken story of how Lucien and Eris only share a mother. Eris found out about it very early on and obviously told Azriel. Back then, they shared everything with each other.

"I'm glad to hear he has contact with him now." Azriel inhales deeply. At least someone has luck with their father, he thinks.

Eris smiles, at least a little, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I've always hoped you would just show up here again someday. I even thought about going to New York, but I thought I would make a fool out of myself – suddenly showing up in the big city with hopes and dreams for us while it was possible that you were already married or at least had a partner."

A breathy chuckle leaves Azriel. "I was dating a few people in the ten years, but it never felt right. It never felt as right as it did with you."

"I know what you mean, Azriel. I know this feeling." Eris inhales a long, deep breath. "I've always thought it was because you will never forget your first love, and somehow they will always be important to you, but I now know that it is because there is no one in this world like you. I fell in love with you because you are my counterpart and everything I could and would ever hope for in a partner. I fell in love with everything about you, and no one would ever compare to you."

Azriel's fingers curl tighter around Eris, and he leans in, kissing his lips softly. "No one compares to you. I fell in love with your charm and wonderful character and soon realized that no one is like you. You are one in a million, and finding someone like you…I was the luckiest idiot on this planet until I ruined everything."

"Beron ruined it."

"I did, too." Azriel shakes his head. "I shouldn't have given up that easily. I should have fought for us. I should have fought Beron for you. I should have fought for our future."

Eris swallows thickly, a tear rolling down his cheek. "I broke up with you; maybe I shouldn't have given up that easily, either. Let's agree that we both made mistakes and didn't do everything right, but this was in the past. Let it be in the past and focus on the future."

"Can you forgive me so easily?" Azriel asks, his heart heavy, his stomach churning. He bites down on the inside of his cheeks.

Eris' shoulders lift with a deep breath. "I can, if you can forgive me for everything I've said."

"I can." Eris nips at Azriel's lips, then lets his forehead rest against Azriel's. "You will go back to New York tomorrow, right?"

"I'll ask my boss to allow me to stay a little longer," Azriel whispers. "He is one of my closest mates. He won't say no." He kisses the corner of Eris' lips. "But yes, I will have to return in a few days. I have my work there and…I can't give everything up there so easily."

"I know. I wouldn't want you to give up everything there." Eris' eyes close, and his heart sinks into his gut. He wants to leave with Azriel and move to the big city with him, but can he leave everything here behind so easily?

He has no job at the moment, as he has been taking care of his ill father in the past months and had to take leave and then quit. It wasn't easy, but working as a doctor before earned him a bit of money that he had on the side, which tided him over the months. So technically, he could start anew in the big city. But that would mean leaving everything here behind: his mother, his brothers.

"My apartment in New York is definitely made for two people, so…" A hopeful smile appears on Azriel's lips.

Eris smiles in return; this time, it reaches his eyes, where hope and anticipation spark to life.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Are you ready?" Azriel looks at him, holding eye contact, although Eris seems to find reciprocating difficult.

Beron has never been a good father, but the funeral day isn't easy. Beron was still his father, and from time to time, they had good moments, moments where they could laugh and smile together. But those days were sparse.

He inhales a deep breath and exhales loudly. "I am."

Everyone is already inside; he and Azriel are the only people still left outside. The funeral will only begin when he enters, so he allows himself this time to breathe and collect himself, knowing he is not missing anything inside.

"I really am." He nods slowly. "You will sit with me?" Eris swallows thickly. "Stay with me?"

"Always," Azriel answers. I will never, ever leave you again." He pulls down the door handle, and they enter together. They stroll down the aisle leading to the altar together, their steps synchronised until they reach their bench, where Eris' mother and two of his brothers are already sitting.

Azriel's hand naturally slides into Eris when he sits down beside him. The pastor steps onto the dais, and piano music starts to sound from the back of the chapel.

"I'm here for you, Eris," Azriel whispers, not turning to look at Eris but staring straight ahead at the coffin. "Forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever. Move to New York with me."

Eris doesn't give him a verbal answer, only squeezes his hand in response, yet a slight smile that feels so out of place for a funeral appears on his lips. Always sounds just too good. Especially when it means forever with Azriel.

general Azris tag list (please let me know if you want to be added/removed): @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @talibunny30 @berryzxx

thank you so much for beta reading @pippsmcgee and @moonlightazriel 💛

#azrisweek2024 #azrisweek #azris #azriel x eris #azris au

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ramonag-if · 5 months

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Patreon Side Stories (March 2024) - Crown of Exile

Hello everyone! The side stories featuring RO perspectives are now ready to read for Patrons and feature events of early Chapter 9. If you're interested in learning more about the characters, consider supporting me on Patreon to get side stories featuring the perspectives of the ROs and the MC's family.

For more information about the side stories, check out the excerpts below!

An Unwanted Reunion is a Zikar side story available for Cyre Tier Patrons and up.

Excerpt: Zikar had decided he loathed the sea. The never-ending taste of salt, the swaying of the barge and knowing there was nowhere to escape from Nisaba’s constant wailing had left Zikar grateful for the sight of land. He dared not show any excitement at the thought of seeing his cousin again. After all, Baba was still grieving and Ama could only speak about her life in Ishari before the war. The docks came into view and Zikar let out a breath. He was sore and the familiar prickle in the back of his eyes told him that it was only a matter of time before his exhaustion was forgotten in favour of his sorrow, but for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine a life where he was not still mourning his mother. “Zikar, come and help. You will have time to explore the city later.” It was Ama. Zikar made a face before reluctantly joining the frail woman. She had lost weight since his mother had died and a pang of guilt twisted in his gut. Everyone was exhausted. His father was almost silent on most days, busying himself with Nisaba and Ama refused to allow herself to cry. Zikar’s inspection of his grandmother was interrupted as he was passed a crate with their meagre belongings. Ama had sold off the supplies that would not have lasted and the aunties from the street had promised to take care of the shop and house in Aspal. All that was left were a few sets of clothes, knitted blankets for Nisaba and some of his mother’s jewellery that his father could not part with.

A King's Decision is a Prince Irus side story available for Cyre Tier Patrons and up.

Excerpt: The unpleasant stab of guilt made Irus swallow a shuddering breath. He knew far too well what had to be done to secure his throne for seeking alliances was the only way he would ever defeat his uncle. His blue eyes shifted to the back of Ellie’s head. She was walking ahead of him, her voice low as she spoke in fervent whispers to Sir Oren. Vinia was under the threat of his uncle and the Blood Guard. It was a stark reminder of the precarious situation Irus found himself in, torn between throwing away his goals in favour of helping Ellie and ignoring the plight of Vinia because he knew that his duties demanded it of him. But the decision had already been made. It had been made when Irus sat in the small chamber, listening to Lord Redall and the High Priestess speak. He knew it when he saw your family outside in the courtyard. There was no escaping the Blood Guard or his uncle and the only way to defeat the threat of more bloodshed was through an alliance with the same people who nearly killed him at sea. A breath left Irus and he rubbed his face, suddenly tired and aching. He wanted nothing more than to find a cot where he could sleep for an eternity. Not for the first time, Irus cursed at his father for bestowing this fate upon him. Being named an heir had only taken him away from the life that once was easy. There had been no threats then, no bloodshed and certainly no writhing guilt.

The Pull of the Tides is an Anu side story. It is available to Vinia and Ishari Tier Patrons.

Excerpt: Anu knew that the war was soon upon her. She could taste in the air, the nervousness that cloyed at the priestesses and hushed the warriors. Returning to Urur was familiar and strange. She breathed in the familiar scents and listened to the voices she knew so well and yet, nothing could have prepared Anu for the unease that slowly began to form in her gut. She had never left Ishari before, not for the war and not out of curiosity. Everything and everyone she had ever loved was in Ishari. But as she gazed at the sea, her strides faltered and she found herself gripped with a sense of panic. She had seen much beyond the borders of Urur and despite her great dislike for Dena and the pomp of the nobles in the Southern Islands, Anu could not deny that venturing from home had been a welcome reprieve. “You have been quiet since your return.” Anu’s grey eyes lifted from the sea and she turned towards Sargon. The retired warrior watched her with an all too knowing look, sending a sliver of embarrassment through Anu. She shook her head, feeling the uneven strands of her hair curling against her shoulders. A frown tugged at her mouth. How long had it been since she cut her hair?

A Queen's Indecision is a Queen Elora side story available for Ishari Tier Patrons.

Excerpt: The saccharine honey in Elora’s tea could not hide the bitterness that lingered in the back of her throat. Her fingers tightened around the clay of her cup as she stared at the missive before her. Redall had brought back even more worrying news from her mother and Elora was beginning to think that leaving Vinia had been a grave mistake. A kingdom could not function without its queen. Without Elora, the courtiers and nobles had fallen into a bickering group. It would not take too long for half of them to be swayed to Virion’s cause and the other to abandon Elora in favour of protecting themselves. A frown pulled at the corners of her lips and she reached out to massage her temple. Leaving Ishari meant that she could not accompany Iri to the Nomad Tribes. It meant that she would have to find a way to eradicate the threat of the Blood Guard in Vinia without compromising the safety of her people. A sigh escaped Elora and she turned away from the elegant writing of her mother’s letter. “Have you decided then?”

The Promise of Love is a Sir Oren side story available for Ishari Tier Patrons.

Excerpt: Oren paced along the courtyard. His boots were heavy, causing the shift of sand beneath them to shift and hiss with each step he took. Above him, the stars mocked him, for they seemed perfect despite the tension in the air. Grunting, Oren rubbed his eyes and stared at the faint glimmer of the lanterns near the docks. Redall’s barge sat proudly and beside it was Her Majesty’s warship. Going into battle meant that there would be little time to prepare. The journey to Vinia would take at least a fortnight if the seas were agreeable and the winds allowed them a swift pace. For weeks since the Blood Guard arrived in the banquet, Oren had found himself training until his palms were rough with callouses and his shoulders trembled with fatigue. He could not let the Blood Guard destroy Vinia, not where his family lived and not where innocents could be harmed. The decision that Her Majesty had taken was the right one, but Oren could not deny the thought of leaving without you left a sour taste in the back of his mouth. He had his duties to his queen and you had chosen to follow His Highness. “You look worried, Oren,” Redall remarked as he joined the captain. “I do not think I have ever seen you this agitated before.”

Read the full stories by becoming a Patron. You will also get exclusive sneak peeks, weekly updates and more!

#crown of exile #side stories #zikar #princeirus #queenelora #siroren #anu #patreon only #bonus stories

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copperbadge · 8 months

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Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday! Just a brief reminder:

Want to help but have no cash? Reblogging helps too!

Ways to Give:

rosiethemage linked to a fundraiser for Lita, a friend who was hit by a car while cycling and needs help covering the medical bills, physical therapy costs, and basic supplies like groceries and pet food. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

thexturtle linked to a fundraiser for Liz, a personal friend who has been struggling since early 2021 with disability and unemployment issues; she's gotten more than $7K behind on her mortgage while trying to get on disability, and needs help to cover it. The auction of the home has been postponed, and they're trying to bring the account current in order to prevent the sale going forward. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

we_are_spc need to raise about $350 to make it through the next couple of weeks while their unemployment review is in progress; they have a job that starts at the end of January but overdrew their food budget, and need to cover that plus other bills. You can give via CashApp at $rowansong, Paypal at [email protected], venmo at rowansong; you can contact them directly for Zelle, since it involves personal information they don't want to post up publicly.

nivchara-yahel and rivalconga are $450 short on January rent and fees; their synaglgues had agreed to help, but backed out after the deadline had passed for payment. They're trying to raise what they need before the landlord files for eviction; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to karla-hoshi or Hoshi on TikTok, who is raising funds for cancer treatment for her cat Naku; they caught the cancer early and hope that he can survive it. You can read more and support the fundraiser here. (The blog is new because Hoshi didn't have a tumblr, so the anon helped make one in order to raise funds.)

Recurring Needs:

thelastpyler is raising funds for food and medication for them and their family; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

rilee16 is raising funds to cover utilities, to afford medication and possibly an upcoming move without local support and with short paychecks; their roommate, who has recently been physically aggressive, has destroyed some of their belongings and stolen controlled medications. You can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

#radio free monday #charity #philanthropy #fannish community

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moreespressoformydepresso · 3 months

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Chugs vodka THE SNAKES SAVED THE TRIBUTES passes out in a ditch

Had this idea two days ago and finally decided to post. In the book it’s pretty clear that the snakes didn’t go into the tunnel, as the tributes who were in the tunnel didn’t get eaten with extreme prejudice while everybody else got chased like they owed the rainbow money and it came to take their soul as recompense. HOWEVER, in the movie the tunnels are beneath the arena like a catacomb instead of just being every part of the arena that isn’t the playing field itself. The entrance is entirely accessible and everyone outside is protected by nothing but a gate. A gate with holes in it.

See where I’m going?

What if the snakes were released just a little bit earlier? Say, at the point where Reaper got cut off maybe. Gaul had already had the tank in position, so before Reaper has even sat down the tank goes down. Treech, like in the book, immediately climbs onto the scoreboard. The others follow his example and get to higher ground, with Reaper and Lucy Gray taking Wovey with them. The snakes can’t reach them, but they’re on the hunt. They want blood. Guess whose blood they can reach?

The peacekeepers never got a warning. The Capitol doesn’t care enough about these nobodies to bother. They never stood a chance. By the time any of them realize something’s wrong it’s already too late to call for backup. Since there’s multiple tributes left, the games keep going, and the cold of the night kills the snakes a few hours later. Lucy Gray leaves her perch first, having noticed the way the snakes all went in the direction of the exit and deciding that it’s worth checking out. She finds all the peacekeepers dead and no replacements for them despite the several hours that have passed. She can’t pick a lock, nor can she fit through the bars, but well… it’s not just her in there, is it? There’s six of them left. So she goes back in and, in a voice soft enough to not be picked up by the microphones, calls out towards the pack.

“The peacekeepers at the gate are dead.”

That’s all it takes to create a temporary truce. Lucy Grey goes to inform Reaper and Wovey while the pack avoids the cameras. Treech, having experience stealing, admits to having broken into peacekeeper warehouses before as he fishes two small bits of metal wire from his pocket. Makeshift lockpicks. Perfect. Mizzen runs to inform the other tributes that they’re getting out while Treech inspects the lock as best as he can from the distance he’s forced to stay at thanks to the cameras. They don’t film enough to spot the dead peacekeepers, but they’ll show him if he approaches the gate. Once they’re regrouped, Coral climbs onto Reaper’s shoulder to adjust the camera a little, trusting the darkness to hide the change in position long enough for them to get away with it, and then Treech gets to work. It takes him less than a minute to get it right.

The gates fly open and the tributes gather all the supplies they can before sprinting towards freedom as fast as they can.

If you hate Snow, Lucy Gray made it to safety just a little too late to unintentionally hide Snow’s cheating, leading to him being caught and having his future ruined. No presidency for him, since Mr Plinth kept Sejanus from following after him for fear that someone would suspect his son of having involvement in the tributes’ escape somehow and thus Snow has no way to get out of his sentence early. Especially because he doesn’t go to 12.

Put the phone down I’m not going back to the asylum you can’t stop me-

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loveysloveclub · 10 months

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THE MAN! UMICH AU chapter iii. training

in which, molly formally meets her new teammates.

the next few weeks before hockey training began were filled with classes, late night pit stops at a local diner and ava choi.

the asian girl was quick to find a place in molly's heart. she was more academically driven then molly, and had informed her that the less frat parties and the more studying, the better. michigan wasn't her top school of choice, and in order to transfer at the end of her freshmen year, she had to step up her game and get the grades necessary.

but alas, the settling down period of molly's college experience had come to an end, hence why she was up much earlier than she was used to, running around her dorm to make sure she had everything for her first training.

nervous would be an understatement to how she was feeling, molly maxwell was freaking the fuck out. this was important to her, but so many things could go wrong. she already knew that the level she was now playing at would be harder than her last, especially since hockey was an american sport and not an australian one. and to add to that, apart from the small conversation between her fellow freshmen teammates she ahd eavesdropped on during her first day, she had no idea how the rest of the guys on the team would react when they were informed that the new teammate was a female. she knew how some of these guys work, having played with and against them before. if they didn't think she was supposed to be there, they would have no issue telling her so.

"i've watched you check that bag four times, you've got everything and you've got this. now scram!" ava was sat at her desk, revising for a quiz she had in her law class. she was up early nearly every morning, and the dedication to her education genuinely surprised molly. she could barely find the motivation to attend her classes, and they weren't nearly as hard as ava's.

molly nodded her head before heading for the door, hands shaking with nerves. all the boys, even the freshmen, had already met each other due to some pre season bonding over the break. and a quick stalk of one of the seniors instagrams told molly that they were a close knit group already, which only increased her nerves.

molly had made sure to visit the rink once or twice over the pass few weeks, just so she knew the layout and wouldn't get lost. both times, she was told by cleaning staff that it wasn't opened and she had to leave the premise.

finding the extra changing room, which is where she was told through email by her new coach is where she would get changed as she obviously couldn't change with a bunch of boys in the room, was easy enough. however, walking towards the ice proved to be difficult. not because she got lost, but because she quite literally couldn't get her feet to move.

by the time she actually made it to the rink, all the boys were huddled around coach, receiving a talking to.

"speaking of the new teammate, here she is boys. everyone, i'd like you to meet molly maxwell, she comes from australia. make her feel welcome, but not too welcome, please." a few of the other staff on the ice giggled at his innuendo, but molly was more focused on the confused glances from the rest of the team. only one was glaring at her and only one was smiling, offering her a small wave, in which she returned quickly. she vaguely recognised him as one of the boys who were throwing a football and talking about her a few weeks back.

"alright, boys and girl! let's start the season!" quickly abandoning the shock of having a girl playing with them, the team all cheered before venturing further out onto the ice.

practice passed in a blur. none of the boys had made an effort to talk to molly, which she was fine with. she was still wary on all of them and would rather observe from the sidelines for the next few weeks to pick the ones who wouldn't treat her differently because she was a girl and befriend them.

that didn't stop her from feeling left out every time one of them jumped on the other or laughed loudly at something another one had said. but her exclusion was partly her fault as well.

after training, all boys headed back to their change room, while molly opted to sitting on the bench to untie her laces. it wasn't as bad as she had thought it was going to be this morning, and the team seemed good enough. she was only interrupted from her thoughts when the same boy from earlier sat down beside her.

"dylan duke, but you can call me duker." he said immediately after taking his seat, also untying his laces. "molly maxwell, but you can call me-"

"maxxy, your nickname is now maxxy."

molly had never gotten a nickname from her teammates on her old team, despite hockey being notorious for it. the idea made her smile.

"you a freshmen, too?" molly nodded her head at the question, to which dylan responded with a small nod.

"well, it was nice meeting you maxxy. but i have to go study for a test that i'm gonna fail." and with that the boy was standing up and running off. his run was funny looking, which earned him a laugh from the blonde girl.

"what's so funny?"

"your run is mad goofy." molly retorted. "your face is mad goofy." dylan shot back, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. molly's jaw dropped, and dylan wondered for a moment if he had already crossed a line with the new girl. his questions were answered when she stood up, charging for him.

the boy let out a shriek before taking off in the other direction. both of their socked feet became wet from the ice as they slid around, slipping and falling as they chased each other.

"duke! maxwell!"

both college students head snapped towards the exit of the ice, where their coach stood with his hands on his hips. "get the hell out of here!"

next chapter previous chapter

#ethan edwards #luca fantilli #umich hockey #mark estapa #umich #umich wolverines #rutger mcgroarty #dylan duke #adam fantilli

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mercurygray · 6 months

Note

Release, for Fred & Brady? 💙

I hope you don't mind, Killy, but I decided to use this as a second part to this piece.

She'd made a terrible mistake.

It wasn't that she'd kissed him - or been kissed, however you wanted to think about it. It wasn't even that she'd run away afterwards - she stood by that decision, even if her knees still hurt from the jump down, and her hands were still sore.

It was that he'd gone out this morning and she hadn't said a word goodbye.

She'd offered to take the early morning shift making the donuts, so she wouldn't have to see anyone, but Mary had places to be in the afternoon and wouldn't swap, so she'd been on coffee duty with Tatty, just outside the briefing room. She was one of them now, part of their good luck charms and superstitions. Hambone would only take a donut if she passed it with her left hand and Curt always spilled the first sip of his coffee, for the angels, and John - John always said good bye and she always said good luck and he'd always say "I won't need it" with one of those small smiles of his.

But not today. Today he hadn't said a word - only glanced at her, and then just as quickly looked away, and he'd gotten in the truck without a word to anyone, his face stormy and closed.

She felt like she had been left holding something - a package that didn't belong to her, a parachute. Good …luck. But what if he needs it today? Superstition closed those loops - if they'd spilled their coffee and made their jokes and wore their sweaters backwards and carried their lucky snow globes then they'd done all they could possibly do, and the rest of it was with God, or Fate. She'd spent the day in nervous watchfulness, waiting for the sound overhead that would let her know that they were back, that it was time to count them in, that she could finally give him back this thing that she'd been carrying for him all day long.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen - everyone back home. A minor miracle, even if someone's engine was on fire, and she could hear, from the far side of the airfield, the rising whine of the siren calling out the fire brigade and the ambulances.

Up in the control tower, she knew that Mae and Cord and Anita would be talking to the pilots on the radio, assessing and evaluating, relaying the information back to where it could be acted upon, and after they got out, those that could get out were bussed over to interrogation, and then they'd come to her - end the day as they had started, with a cup of coffee and a donut, so that Major Bowman and Captain Brennan and Phoebe and the rest could ask them how it had gone, where the flak was worst, how many bombs they'd dropped and whether they'd dropped true, whether the luck they'd carried with them had truly been lucky.

They were always quieter now then when they'd gone out in the morning - no jokes, no laughter. She'd heard Captain Brennan call what they did 'returning to themselves' and so they were. Here was Dickie, and here was Curt, small smiles and grateful gulps of coffee and bourbon as Doc Stover checked them over on the way in. Egan, putting on some sort of smile like he thought she and Tatty would believe him untouched by this.

And here he was.

She was glad there was a table between them. The things she wanted to do wouldn't have stood up to close observation - to grab his arms, observe the cuts on his face from the raw edges of his mask, brush his hair out of his eyes. And her lips longed for his skin - to kiss every last inch of him, to be close the way they'd been close last night in his plane, with the sunset dying around them, and see if it would make him smile the way he'd smiled yesterday, since he certainly wasn't smiling now.

He tossed back his bourbon and didn't even glance at the coffee, and her heart was the heaviest it had been all day.

Phoebe had his table - nine men. Someone was missing and she couldn't tell who. The room emptied; he grabbed his bag and headed back outside, and she did something she wasn't supposed to - she followed him.

"John! Wait!"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him around the side of the hut, and when she kissed him, it was like pulling the release cord on that parachute, because everything was falling, but slower and steadier, and his hands were light on her hips, and when they stopped, foreheads touching, she felt like she was on solid ground again.

"Fred." There was a touch of wonder in his voice.

"I'm sorry," she said, her words coming out in a jumble. "I'm sorry I let you leave like that this morning and I'm sorry I ran away and I'm sorry I'm scared." I don't like breaking rules, but I'll do it for you. "But don't you ever forget to say good bye again," she threatened with a waver in her voice that made him laugh, and tighten his hands on her waist. "Now, you - you can't be jealous when I dance with everyone else. And you can't be angry when someone else makes me laugh. And I can't always sit with you, or hold hands with you, or even kiss you. But I'll be yours," she said, feeling like she was flying and falling and foolish for all of it. "Your …best girl."

"And Curt's," he added, with a waver of laughter in his voice, his eyes as blue as oceans. "I'd fight him but I know I'd lose."

The truth of that was worth the laugh. "And Curt's."

"And since when do you call me John?" She punched him in the arm for that, but the truth was the truth, whether she liked it or not. "But Curt doesn't get to do this," he said, and kissed her again. She closed her eyes, as light as air, and thought of sunsets and sunrises and all the luck in the world that had brought her here.

#asked and answered #basilone #i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #tds cinematic universe #freda torvaldsen #john brady x oc

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royalvelvette · 7 months

Text

dance with me, darling

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/F, M/M, Multi Relationships: Charlie Magne | Morningstar/Vaggie, Charlie Magne | Morningstar & Valentino, Charlie Magne | Morningstar & Velvette, Charlie Magne | Morningstar & Vox, Valentino & Velvette & Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Valentino/Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel) Characters: Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Velvette (Hazbin Hotel), Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Husk (Hazbin Hotel) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Overworking, Overworked Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Autistic Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs a Hug, Husk is Bad At Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Good Significant Other Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Overworked Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Idiots in Love, Dancing, Self-Esteem Issues, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Two Shot Summary:

Local quintet need to slow down and take a break, seventy-year-old cat man says.

Read on Archive of Our Own here.

once again breaking up the originally a one-shot into a two-parter because the setting information got away from me. Second part (the sillies dancing) will post either later tonight or early tomorrow morning.

Part 1 under the cut. Word count: 1753

It was finally quiet in the hotel. Not completely, in the way of well-populated areas, but quieter than it had been since... since.

(Charlie didn’t want to think about since. About red red blood, and missing limbs, and still nearly running out of medicines even after Auntie Belphagor had sent some up expressways, and the amount of dead still in the streets when, normally, the cannibals would have cleared the majority by now.)

It was a quiet she desperately needed; too many nights had been lost to passing cot-to-cot while Val kept everything calm and Vaggie was out in the streets, pulling in even more wounded (there had been so many buried underneath the rubble that remained of the once-bustling weapons district). Vox was usually gone as well – his drones made him invaluable when trying to find anyone who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, call out. Velvette helped out where she could – usually upstairs, stitching and restitching wounds when the original stitches inevitably got pulled. She just... needed a moment. A moment alone, to herself, in the quiet, because if it was quiet it meant nobody was hurting. (Charlie was tired of her people hurting).

She slid down the closed door of their bedroom, sighing, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. She just... wanted to rest. Wanted to see Vaggie for longer than twenty minute intervals or however long it took them to fall asleep at night. Wanted to see Velvette stitching new outfits instead of skin, wanted to hear Valentino speak without his voice coming out scratchy and cracking, wanted Vox to be present at the hotel instead of having his eyes in his drones. Want-want-want, what a selfish creature – her people were injured and dying, and here she was wanting things that would keep them from being helped.

... Charlie allowed herself to wallow for a minute more before pushing off the floor. Val needed more water, probably, and it wouldn’t hurt to check in on Velvette and see if she needed any more supplies. Maybe, if there was more quiet time later, she could spend some time with Vox and see if she could spot Vaggie on the feeds.

Husk was only a little annoyed about the fact he had been unceremoniously promoted to hotel manager. He got it, he did – Vaggie was out in the streets every day, the Vees had shit to do, and the princess was trying to help everyone at the same time like she always did, but he didn’t sign up for this shit.

(He didn’t really sign up at all, but, well. Al said jump, he jumped. Even if he didn’t want to.)

It wasn’t supposed to be his job to direct the staff, keep Niffty from causing too many problems, and put out metaphorical fires. He was just a goddamn bartender! His job was keep his bar clean, keep it stocked, and sling booze to order while drinking some himself. Sue him, sometimes he missed being an overlord, but managing the souls under him to keep the casino running smoothly? That wasn’t one of them; and yet, here he was, doing that same thing except with none of the fucking power that came with it.

(And, honest to God, if one more imp got uppity with him about being told to keep the parlour clean so none of the injured chucklefucks got infections, he was going to tear the unlucky bastard’s head off. Something had to be done; preferably before he lost his job.)

Opportunity struck that night, as luck would have it. (Who the fuck was he kidding – luck hadn’t been on his side since the day his soul stopped belonging to him.) But whatever it was, it wound up with Vaggie sitting down at the bar for the first time in two weeks. It was the first time Husk had really been able to get a look at her – at any of them – since everything went down. And Vaggie?

Vaggie looked like shit. Her wings and hair were matted with blood and dirt, the bags under her eyes rivalled his, and she was barely managing to sit upright on her stool – only doing so by leaning against her spear. If the Vees and Charlie were anything like this – and his bets were on yes – it was worse than he thought. Something was going to give, and give soon.

(Alastor would want to know, something in his mind whispered.

Fuck off, Husk thought back. The thought of Alastor anywhere near this place, near these people, made his fur stand on end.)

He pulled some Beelzejuice out from under the counter and got a stein ready. Vaggie still hadn’t said anything, staring blankly past him, but that suited Husk just fine. Getting the drink ready would hopefully let him get his thoughts in order so he didn’t sound like a total jackass.

(There wasn’t really a nice way to say “If the five of you don’t take a break soon, you’re going to end up useless,” but he really wanted to find one. Last thing anybody needed was the fallout from Vaggie trying to stab him when she was too tired to reign in her impulses.)

Vaggie snapped out of her stupor when Husk slid the mug – maybe a bit too full, with how some slopped out – over to her. She nodded her thanks, but didn’t move to pick it up. Husk busied himself with the spill; anything to put the conversation off a little longer. He watched Vaggie out of the corner of his eye as he did; just in case. She seemed fine, and eventually moved to sip at the drink, then chug it down like a woman dying of thirst.

He tossed the soiled rag into the bucket behind the counter before leaning against the back wall. “You got a sec before bed, boss?” he asked.

Vaggie set the mug down a little harder than strictly necessary. “Not really,” she said. “Gotta get an early start tomorrow, y’know, digging people out of the rubble and all.”

Husk’ll give her credit – she kept the unlike you quiet. “About that,” he started. “You... uh, you sure you don’t want to take a break?”

Vaggie snorted. “What, and stand around like you do? No, I have to-”

“I ain’t doing nothing,” Husk snapped, “I’m doing your fucking job since you’re never here. You think I want to be tellin’ imps and sinners what to do? I didn’t sign up for that shit!”

Vaggie’s face twisted into a half-snarl, half-frown. “What, you want a raise? A medal? Newsflash, asshole, we’re all doing shit we didn’t sign up for right now-”

“I don’t need that shit, I just- you guys-”

Vaggie stood up, and even though her eyes were nearly level with the bar, her furious glare made up for it. “Whatever, I’ll – I’ll deal with it, fuck, give you a raise, hire someone else-”

“You ain’t fuckin’ listening to me.” Husk could feel his own temper threading. “I don’t want a raise, I want you to take a break!”

“I can’t!” Vaggie snarled. “If I stop, Charlie’ll-”

Snap. The last of his patience fled with a near audible sound as his legs extended and shoulders widened, wings flaring, yellow iris glowing vibrant against his black sclera. Even still, his voice didn’t rise above a hiss.

“You all need to stop. The five of you aren’t gonna last like this,” he said. “You’re no fucking use if you burn out before you can finish working. And...”

He shrunk back to his normal size, forcibly reigning in his temper. Vaggie was staring at him with wide eye, spear held in a white-knuckled grip – ready to fight or flee, didn’t matter. What mattered was she was silent, and paying attention.

“I’m. Worried about you,” Husk said finally. “You – don’t need to end up like me. You five need to take a break, all of you.”

Christ, but he hoped Niffty was busy upstairs somewhere. Vaggie was still just – staring at him, though the grip she had on her spear had relaxed somewhat.

Then her eye started to water and her face contorted and oh fuck, fuck he wasn’t – he couldn’t handle crying people on a good day. She sniffed once, hard, scrubbed at her eye. Husk held his breath, terrified that one wrong move from him would set her off. He could still only sorta handle Charlie crying, and that was because she cried a lot.

Vaggie took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay,” she said, voice just this side of wobbly, “okay. I’ll... we’ll take a day off. I’ll make sure of it.”

Husk let some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Good,” he said. “Good.”

Vaggie turned to leave, but then turned back, pointing at him with her spear. “But if you ever pull that shit again, I’ll-”

He waved her off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll write you an apology letter or whatever. Go to sleep, kid.”

Vaggie felt a little bad as she finally slipped into the room she shared with Charlie. The lamp was still on, even though Charlie was fast asleep, book hanging precariously from her fingers. That suited her better than if Charlie had still been awake, but still – she missed her girlfriend, and these moments before sleep claimed them were some of the only ones they had been getting. Hopefully, her plans for tomorrow would make up for it – if Charlie wasn’t angry about them. Vaggie carefully crept closer to the bed, pausing as Keekee lifted her head from her spot against Charlie’s side.

Vaggie raised a finger to her lips.

“Mrrp,” Keekee said, snuggling closer to Charlie but otherwise ignoring her.

Vaggie carefully took Charlie’s book, setting it face down on the end table. Charlie’s phone screen lit up dimly at the motion, then again when Vaggie picked it up. She inputted the password and navigated to the clock app, grimacing at exactly how early the alarm was set for (her own alarm wasn’t much better), before turning it off. Her own was already turned off, and she had done the same to Velvette’s and Valentino’s. Vox’s was a little trickier because of his internal clock, but hopefully – hopefully – he would respect the text she had sent him instead.

Mission done, Vaggie set her girlfriend’s phone back down – this time face down. Charlie was going to be furious when she woke up tomorrow morning, but Husk... was right. They all needed a break – Charlie probably most of all.

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hahaifolded · 12 days

Text

The Siren, the Cook, and the Sister (15)

Sanji x PirateHunter!Fem Reader (Masterlist) Chapter 15: Apologize (Previous) (Next) Summary: You and Luffy have a heart to heart. Warnings: Angst, Light Violence, Marineford and WCI Spoilers

It has been three days since your sister's passing and your subsequent break down, and things have been tense. Per Luffy's orders, the crew stayed on the island, not like any of them necessarily wanted to leave you in your current state. Since Sanji brought you back, you refused to enter your house. No matter what the crew did, they couldn't convince you to come inside.

So now as you came back from the hospital, instead of coming inside, you took a seat in front of the house and stared at the trees. Robin, who accompanied you in disguise, entered the living room where most of the Strawhats waited.

"How'd it go?" asked Nami. Early this morning, you both had gone to the hospital to retrieve the body. But from the looks of Robin, it seemed like it didn't go well.

With anger burning in her eyes, Robin paced around the room before speaking. With a tight voice, she started, "they are holding on to the body until her debt is paid." Everyone began to mutter in confusion.

"But I thought the pirate hunter paid off all her debt? What else could she possibly owe?" asked Jimbei.

"According to the Marines, everything!" Robin took in a deep breath. "There was a mistake in her bill. Supposedly she's behind on a couple payments and now with the damage she inflicted on the building, the hospital is refusing to give her her sister until she's paid off what she owes."

"And how much is that?" piped up Zoro.

"5 billion berries."

"That's absurd!" cried Nami. "How is she supposed to make all of that?"

Robin rolled her eyes in preparation for what she was about to share. "The Marines were kind enough to let her keep her title as pirate hunter."

"So what? She's just supposed to keep hunting pirates while her sister rots in that place! What kind of monsters are they?" roared Usopp. Everyone sat in disbelief, unable to believe such injustice was happening. Instead of allowing you to mourn, the Marines were forcing you to work.

"Luffy, what should we do?" asked Brook. Everyone turned to their captain, who has remained silent this whole time.

However, before Luffy can say anything, Sanji came out of the kitchen, carrying a plate. "For now, nothing. Lunch is ready," he informed, making his way out the door.

"Sanji, I don't think it's a good time," commented Robin. But her warning was left unheard as Sanji stepped outside the door.

-- -- --

Sanji knew you were going to refuse him again. For the past three days, he's been trying to feed you, but you always turned him down. But now as he walked towards you with lunch in hand, Sanji was not going to take no without a fight.

You didn't react when Sanji stood behind you. You sat there, motionless, gaze glued to the top of the trees. Sanji called your name, but you stayed still, even after he repeated it a few times.

"Please, (Y/N), she wouldn't want this," he begged. You turned your head to the side. Now that he had your attention, Sanji knew this was his chance. "Your sister would want you to take care of yourself. She would want you to keep living. Look, siblings--"

You shot up. You grabbed him by his collar, prompting him to drop the plate. Now in his face, you growled, "what the fuck do you know about siblings?" Sanji tried to say something, but you beat him to it. "Because last time I fucking checked, your siblings are monsters, Vinsmoke.” You tightened your grip. “Don’t you dare compare my sister to those things you call siblings, okay? Because at the end of the day, they’re Vinsmokes… you’re a Vinsmoke. You’re a monster. Just. Like. Th—" Before you could finish your sentence, a flying fist knocked you back.

"LUFFY!" yelled Sanji. The last thing he wanted to do was cause you more pain.

"No one disrespects my crew like that," said Luffy. Sanji tried to calm him down, but he knew his captain, nothing was going to change his mind. "Apologize to Sanji now!" he commanded, cracking his fists.

You quickly got up and pulled out your blades. "Never." And with that, you pulled off your mask and ran towards Luffy. Luffy sidestepped, weaving past all of your attacks. Left, right, up, down, scream, cry... but you couldn't land a single hit on the straw hat-wearing pirate. With every missed hit, you grew more and more frustrated. "STOP MOVING!" you cried out. Said right as Luffy stood in front of you, the phrase threw him back.

However, it did nothing as he used the knock back to bounce high up in the air. "Gomu Gomu no Gatling!" he yelled. You tried to block the raining punches with a scream, but it was no use as he covered his fists with Haki. Despite hardening your body, each punch made a significant blow on your body.

"Luffy! Stop," begged Sanji. He felt stuck. He knew he couldn't stop his captain, but he also couldn't watch you get hurt. Sanji ran towards Luffy, determined to put an end to this. As he reached his captain, Luffy stopped and stared him down, his eyes also determined to see this through. Sanji paused. You tried getting up, but Luffy put a foot on you, hardening his leg, making you incapable of getting up.

You tried to push him off, but his Haki was stronger than yours. You grumbled and growled, commanding him to get off. However, Luffy stood firm on you, digging his feet further in you. After a few minutes of fighting, your body eventually gave out.

"Get. Off," you growled. You body burned in rage.

"Not until you apologize to Sanji first," Luffy informed. Sanji tried to pull Luffy off, but Luffy picked him up and threw him out of the way.

You refused. When Luffy asked why, you said you couldn't.

Further digging his feet into your back, Luffy got into your face and curiously asked, "Why not? What did Sanji do? He didn't hurt you or your sister. He helped build your house. He taught you how to cook. He's your friend, isn't he?"

And with that, the floodgates bursted open. You started to cry. Through tears, you admitted, "that's why I can't forgive him. Because he's my friend... because I chose him over my sister." Guilt weighed heavy in your chest. If you had killed him when you had the chance, your sister would still be alive. If you had followed through with your promise, your sister wouldn't have died hating you.

So lost in your grief, you didn't feel Luffy get off your back and crouch right next to you. He let you cry for a few more minutes until he started to gently pat your back. After a few minutes of soothing pats, your sobs eased up. You sat up and sniffled through the last of your breakdown. Luffy ushered Sanji over who slowly made his way to you.

As Sanji crouched to your other side, Luffy began to talk. "You know me and Ace would fight a lot growing up?" You tensed up as you recalled the death of Luffy's older brother. You wanted to stop him, but Luffy continued to talk. "Sometimes he would get so mad at me that he would say really mean things, but I never took it personal," he laughed, "because I knew he loved me." Luffy threw you a wide smile. You couldn't believe the strength on this boy.

"Luffy, but I--," you tried to argue, but the boy shushed you with his finger.

"If your were in your sister's place, would you have reacted any differently?" He looked straight into your eyes, eyes radiating genuine curiosity.

Without even thinking, you answered. "No.” Your sister did what you would have done, possibly a subdued version of it. But you knew that despite it all, you would have still loved her. Because no matter what, she was your sister.

Luffy got up and stretched out his back. "So don't blame Sanji for being a good friend. Life happens and we just have to live through it." With that, he clapped his hands and said, "Now that's over... LET'S EAT!" He ran inside, calling the rest of the crew for lunch.

You let out a little laugh. Despite everything, he was still a boy. But before you could get up, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your chest and a face on the back of your neck.

"I'm so sorry," Sanji mumbled. You whipped around and held his face in your hands. How could you made this good man think it was his fault.

"Don't," you whispered. "It's not your fault at all. I'm sorry for blaming you. I know if things had played out differently," you felt a lump at your throat, but you spoke through it, "she would have seen that too." You rested your head against his and repeated "I'm sorry" a few more times, before Sanji pulled you into a hug. You held each other for a few seconds before leaving each other's embrace.

Now hand-in-hand, you both entered the house for a good meal.

-- -- --

After lunch, you went up to your room to rest, leaving the Strawhats to unwind on their own. Despite “the heart the heart” you had with Luffy, things still didn’t feel right. As Sanji cleared the table, Robin, Nami, Usopp, and Chopper sat at the dinner table, thinking.

Slamming the table, Usopp cried out, “this isn’t fair. It’s wrong, it’s… it’s—”

“Suspicious,” finished Chopper. The other three looked at him with wide eyes, confused by her statement.

“Suspicious?” asked Nami.

Chopper began to stutter. He didn’t realize he had said his thought out loud. “W-well it’s unethical for any doctor to hold on to a body for so long, even if there’s a debt to be paid. And… well and,” the young doctor began to stutter, almost nervous to continue.

“Go on,” motivated Robin.

“Well… every time we visited her at the hospital, I would look at her fluid bag and it just didn’t look right,” he admitted.

“What do you mean didn’t look right?” asked the navigator. Unease started to set in as the sinking realization of something shady might be going on.

“It just didn’t look right. Even the bottles of medicine that sat on her table, none of it looked familiar." The four of them sat in silence, pondering over what Chopper said. Feeling self conscious about his thoughts, Chopper began to pull back, saying maybe he's just overthinking.

"No, I think you're on to something," interrupted Nami. She stood up and began to pace. "Think about it, one of Marine's strongest pirate hunters just at the peak of retirement suddenly getting pulled back into work, because of some unpaid debt. A debt that she has no choice but to pay back." Usopp gasped, Chopper began to stutter, Robin's eyes widened, and Nami nodded her head as they all came to the same conclusion.

"I think we should pay the hospital a little visit just to be sure."

Word Count: 1870

Previous - Masterlist - Next

Author's Note: Word Vomit warning! I am so sorry for last week! Hopefully this chapter makes up for the wait.

Many thoughts went through my head while writing this chapter. As much as I wanted Sanji to comfort the reader, in my head, I feel like he can't. The reader here just lost their sister, the light of their life, a loss that Sanji hasn't necessarily dealt with and honestly I don't know if he would necessarily feel. Not to say he can experience great loss, but losing your sibling is such a unique type of pain. But you know who has? Luffy. And in a similar way as the reader even. Luffy was so close to saving Ace but failed at the end. The reader here was so close but also failed. Not to the say it's the same, but it's similar enough that Luffy might be the only person who can relate to the reader. That's why I wrote Luffy here getting to the reader. Could Luffy been more emotional about it... sure, but I don't think that's in Luffy nature.

As for the scene I wrote about Luffy talking about Ace... fuck y'all... I actually cried. I truly think that Ace's death is one of the saddest moments in anime history. Like I literally get emotional every time I think about it. Because Ace didn't deserve to go as he did. Fuck I'm tearing up just writing that!

But overall, I hope you enjoyed. Just want to say that we're close to the end so thanks again for joining me on this ride!

#black leg sanji x reader #one piece fanfiction #sanji x reader #strawhats x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece x reader #black leg sanji x you #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x you

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 months

Text

Tentatively Tending To Trauma. Poly!Camping Boys X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Chapter Two. "Fixing It Up."

Hello! So! I know, over a year since I posted the first chapter of this, been working chapter two on and off ever since, hopefully I can get back into a better schedule with this, but I make no promises with how my life has been lately. Regardless, I hope everyone is as excited as I am! I missed Buddy and Sam, and this fic is important to me and deserves some attention. I promise it won't be another year before chapter three, at least! Chapter one is back here if you need a refresher.

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Rating. SFW, for now. Length. 5.7K. Eventual Sam Wescott/Buddy Swanson X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Movie Spoilers. Set After Stage Fright AND You Might Be The Killer. Still Very Light So Far. Mild Alcohol Consumption. Building Of Friendships.

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Your first night sleeping at camp went surprisingly well, a lot of the time you had trouble sleeping in new places, but you think the drive and overall excitement wore you out so much that you became practically comatose once your head hit the pillow. You wake up in the cabin alone, you take some time to lay in bed, enjoying the time to yourself. When the kids get here, sleeping in will be difficult if not impossible, even on some days off, so you decide to soak it up now. You make yourself get up eventually and start getting dressed. T-shirt and shorts today, you would be working outside basically all day, it was going to be hot, hair out of the way, socks on, sneakers, hat and sunscreen smeared, you head out.

It isn’t too bad yet. It’s still early, the sun isn’t high in the sky, the fresh air is nice, there is dew on the grass, and you are ready to face today’s tasks head on. You go to the mess hall and find the serving trays full but the line itself is empty, you must be one of the first people up. You don’t wait around, you serve yourself, eat eggs and bacon and toast quickly, down coffee and juice and with a water bottle filled with ample ice you make your way back out, intent on getting serious work in.

Wanting to get to right to it once at the boathouse and pull the key out of your shorts pocket, and you open the door, you look over everything and start to break down what you need to do and then get to work. First up is cleaning out the boathouse. It’s a little dusty, a little cobwebbed, some garbage about and while working on cleaning you notice there is a loose floorboard. You find a tool box and nails, and you really get into it. Some of the shelving is screwed up, you take to fixing that up too, and when doing that you also rearrange the boathouse to your liking. You figure you might as well since this is going to be your work station for the next three months. The floors had been swept, the window cleaned letting in some of that wonderful summer sunshine, the garbage all bagged up, you press on.

Throughout all this you assess the boats and decide they need some sooner rather than later maintenance, while working on the boathouse you found some still sealed cans of paint, after checking out the colours you made the call that after fixing them up you could even paint them. You make this the new priority, the paint was appropriate for the job, must have been bought for the last time the canoes were painted, but after they are cleaned up they will need a while to cure up properly. Even when the kids arrive you will have some time, all the kids who are going to use the canoes have to pass a swim test as well as being informed of the general safety prior to getting in one. If you are lucky, the first canoe rides will happen before the end of the first week of them being there.

After some asking around to the other counsellors you find out there is a belt sander available, which is perfect because hand sanding this many canoes would be very time-consuming, this is going to speed up the process exponentially. The one thing that eventually pulls you out of the work is realising how hungry you are, not even sure of what time it is, but the sun is much higher, the temperature way hotter. You make the call to go to the mess hall, see if it is lunchtime. When you arrive, the place is empty. You worked through lunch and missed it, judging by the clock on the wall you’d been almost an hour past the allotted window.

Fuck.

What are you going to do? You did bring some snacks and maybe retreating to your cabin to get something to tide you over was the move, you were thinking it over when the doors leading back to the kitchen opened and your eyes were drawn to the sound. Upon seeing Buddy up front, apron on and busing tub in his hands, you gain hope back for a second. He smiles and calls out, “Oh, there you are.”

You begin to make your way up to the serving line where he is, “Hey Buddy. Hate to be a bother, is there any lunch left?”

He tells you in a light tone with a raise of his eyebrows, “You’re a little late.”

“I know, I know, I got really caught up working, but still, do you have anything?” You asked, and he said, “Of course I do.”

“Wait really?” You asked, and he said, “All the food passes through my hands personally when serving, so when I didn’t see you I knew I should put something aside.”

He gives you a single finger raise, the busing tray is set down, and he comes forward, reaches under the serving line, roots around a bit before pulling out a bag. He gestures for you to come closer, and you come up, he holds the bag out, and you take it. Opening the brown paper to find a wrapped sandwich, a fruit cup, cookies, veggie sticks, cheese and crackers, “Wow, quite a spread.”

“Hey, I know you’re working hard, gotta be well-fed.” You appreciated it, the look in his eyes conveyed that he believed it and that it meant more than just the job he was hired and brought here to do.

“Thanks, it’s really nice of you.” He shrugs and brushes you off, saying it’s no big deal, he also tells you that he intends to stick to this, will always make sure something is put aside and even if you are late at times he encourages you to check the fridge in the back.

You end up sitting at the table and eating the food he made, an easy conversation is struck as he is cleaning up the mess hall around you, since it was just the counsellors so far it was relatively easy, but he wants to keep in the habit of keeping it all cleaned up.

“So, how goes the set-up?” You asked him, and he said, “Oh great, kitchen just needed a good deep clean, I’m basically all done, I just want to reorganize the fridge.”

“I totally get what you mean, I did the same thing with the boathouse.” You tell him and he asked, “Already? You work quick.”

“Well it’s mostly done, right now I’m working on fixing up the canoes.”

“They need much work?” He asks, and you tell him confidently, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“How foolish of me to doubt your immense talents.” He said easily as he loads another tray into the bin. “Very foolish indeed. I’m glad to hear the work is going well, but what about the assignment I gave you?”

A brow quirks up at that as he questions, “Assignment?”

“Yes, to help you not be an anti-social loner this summer?” The recognition hits, and he says, “Oh, that.”

“Yes. That. Have you made any friends yet?” He has finished picking up the trays and was going to start to walk to the back, and he says, “No, not quite yet-”

“Buddy.” You say his name and that makes him stop. A shared look, and he says your name in kind, and you push, “You promised.”

“I’m going to try, seriously, just been busy so far and also ease up we’ve been here like a day.” You take a bite of your sandwich and squint at him, an unconvinced hum, and he groans, eyes rolling back as he tells you, “I mean it, I’ll try okay?”

You finish chewing, swallow and tell him,“That’s better. You deserve a fun summer, and I am not always gonna be able to be around to make sure that happens.”

“You made the sale, now stop selling.” He says it lightly, and you thank him for listening to you.

He brings the trays to the back and comes back out, he is wiping down tables as you talk, the conversation is good, there is a levity to it that makes you smile, the back and forth you’d already started to develop brings a smile to your face. You are sure he is going to make friends and have a good summer.

Soon enough the food is done, you are giving him another thank you and getting up to head out the door, he calls out, “Once those canoes are ready, you’re still gonna take me for a ride right?”

You turn and call back, “You’ll be the first one I take out on the water, alright?”

A smile is thrown your way along with the call of, “Alright!”

Back out in the sun and back to work you go. The time flies by while you are hard at work under the slowly sinking sun. You know another few hours have gone by when Sam comes by and tells you as such. He comes up with a friendly wave and an apology about how long he has taken to get over to you, you tell him that it’s, “-no trouble, I’ve been busy.”

“So I can see.” he says with a look to the tools and things spread around in the grass. He has a small cooler with him, he opens it and pulls out a water bottle, he holds it out and says, “Take a break?”

You do just that.

You and he sit on the grass, and you ask him how his day has been, “Busy, been getting pulled in every which direction, but I’m managing.”

“Almost like that’s the head counsellor’s job or something.” You tease and he laughs. He has a good laugh, you wish you could hear it more, a kind of laugh that makes you want to laugh too, infectious. You hope after camp is going, and you are all more settled into it, that he would feel more comfortable and relax some more.

“How’d you get into doing this?” He asks, and you tell him, “My favourite activities at camp were the water based ones, swimming and of course canoeing, I loved it a ton. I got to a point of being an unofficial helper at my old camp with all that stuff.”

“Wow, impressive.” He sounds genuine, and you toss him a sideways smile before you take another healthy drink from the water bottle he gave you, it feels so good and needed in the beating down heat of the summer day.

The conversation meanders until you ask him, “So what about this camp, what’s the history of it?”

He opens his mouth to start to tell you when there is a shout of, “Sam?!” You both look to see another one of your fellow counsellors coming towards you both, seeking help, and Sam sighs. He gets up and tells you, “I’ll fill you in on that soon, okay?”

“You better stop running out on me soon, Sammy, or I’ll get the impression you don’t like me.” You call as you watch him go, with another laugh and a promise he’ll improve.

After some more work and a quick shower, you have dinner with the other counsellors, and you are determined today to stay up for the fire. You feel bad about being so tired and bailing, bonding with your fellow staff before camp starts up is important to you, foraging new friendships and relationships is important to you too. Dinner was good, better than yesterday even, and when you were going to return your tray and a few others upfront, you didn’t want to make Buddy have to run around cleaning them all up. You managed to catch him, offering up the trays, he smiled and took them gratefully.

“Hey Buddy, thanks for dinner, it was fucking great.” You praise, and he said with a half-smile, “Thank you, glad you liked it.”

“Just giving credit where it’s due. You coming to the bonfire tonight?” You ask, and he says, “I am and actually about that, it’s s’more night tonight and I could use a hand, mind helping me out?”

You’d be happy to.

Following along, you thought about how you hadn’t been inside the kitchen before tonight, the place looked good considering the fact it was post dinner, but again he just had to worry about feeding the counsellors, you are sure it might be a different story when all the kids are here. He was running the trays through the dishwasher and had gotten a box out while the machinery hummed behind him, he was loading it up with what was needed, graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate and the rest as you watched him.

“So is this what you always wanted to do?” The question filled the space, even though it didn’t need to be filled. Buddy looked up at you and said, “What?”

“Cooking. Being a cook, is this what you always wanted to do?” You asked and one of his shoulders picked up, a half shrug as he said jokingly, “I think the term you are looking for is chef-”

He gave you a look-out from under his curls and the playfulness found in his blue eyes as well as his soft looking pink lips curled into a smile had quite the effect on you. What he said next was not as humorous, but it was warm, more honest, ”-and kind of. Always wanted to open a restaurant.”

You feel there is more he isn’t saying, but you two are very new to knowing each other, maybe he will tell you more about it another time. Instead of really pushing, you just give a simple, “Really?”

He smiles wider, you see a flash of his teeth, “I mean, everyone needs their raison d’etre, right?” You laugh, “Oh man, busting out the French, hm?”

“I’m Canadian.” He said with a fond roll of his eyes as he picked up the box, adding on, “I’m allowed. Now come on, let’s get down there.”

You and Buddy make your way to where the bonfire is meant to be that night. Starting the fire was easy enough, and soon other people were joining. You and he make s’mores together, toast marshmallows, break apart chocolate squares and assemble the confections together, pile up a plate with the sticky sweet delights you crafted, partially wrapped in tinfoil, both have a drink each during the process. After that, you are walking around with your bounty to share with everyone. Before you know it, you are with Sam again, he is standing alone and looking stressed, you ask him, “You want a s’more?”

He looks over at you and gives you a nervous smile, mumbling, “Thanks.” He takes the s’more but doesn’t take a bite. You quirk a brow at that and ask, “You wanna share with the class or?”

Sam’s eyes move towards you, and he exhales a simple, “What?”

“I can tell something if bugging you, so open your mouth to tell me all about it or to shove that damn s’more into it.” You tell him with a smile before taking a sip from the cool can you have in one hand, the other occupied holding the plate of s’mores.

You see the ghost of a smile pass his lips, head tipping forward a little, before he starts to tell you, “I’m just worried about getting everything ready in time for the camp’s opening. Worried about making this a good summer for the counsellors and kids alike too, honestly.”

You can’t help the laugh that spills out, you have to grip the plate harder for fear it might slip from your grasp. You laugh so hard it takes a moment for your shoulders to stop shaking, and you inhale hard as you catch your breath, Sam asks for the second time tonight, “What?”

“Sorry, sorry! I just-” You giggle before saying, “Sam, that’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Oh gee thanks.” he scoffed, and you jump to say, “No, no, I just mean, I’ve been seeing how hard everyone has been working, the camp will for sure be ready and as for having fun? I mean, come on, I saw the draft of the activities, everyone is going to have a killer time!”

You set the can down on the picnic table you had both been standing next to, you reach out and set your hand on his shoulder, you give a reassuring squeeze and a smile that radiated as much warmth as the camp fire burning a few feet away. The smile seemed to infect him as well, you could feel his shoulder relax under your touch. He asked, “You mean that?”

And you confirmed sincerely, “Course I do! Now loosen up, eat your s’more, have a beer, kids won’t be here for a good long while, get your relaxing in now! It’s not like we can keep working on what needs to get done in the dark anyway, right?”

He exhaled, amused and nodded, “You are very right, and uhm, thank you. I really feel better getting that out, I think I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, and I mean that, now I am not leaving your side until you get a drink in, you wouldn’t let me drink alone, would you?” A slight pout and he says, “Well, I am supposed to be setting an example to the other counsellors-” He reaches into the nearby cooler and takes out a beer.

You and he drink together, people come by for s’mores and the night wares on. You have a good time, and eventually you and Sam drift apart, and you talk to your other counsellors, and Sam does the same. At one point you look over at him and see him talking animatedly and excitedly, at least three drinks deep, face a little flushed and laughing to some joke, it makes you happy to see.

You go to bed that night much later and wake up the next day much later as a result. You get ready and make your way to the mess hall for a late breakfast, when you are in line getting served Buddy teases you, “Sleep alright?”

A small laugh, “M’ fine, I hydrated before bed, no hangover for me.”

“Smart cookie.” He praises as he heaps scrambled eggs next to your silver dollar pancakes, and you grin, “That’s me.”

The breakfast is great, you eat the food, get some orange juice and coffee in you and fill up your reusable water bottle with ice and water before heading out to get back to work.

Falling back into the rhythm of it is easy, you work hard, work so hard in fact you work right through lunch, again, you shouldn’t make that a habit, but you are finally caught up on everything. You are starving but happy, you make your way to find the head counsellor before going to get some food, too excited and desperate to tell him you are all caught up, you find him after a while, calling out , “Sammy!”

You approach him with a wave, and he looks up from his task, chopping wood, a smile of his own, he waves in return as you walk up to him. “Hey! Missed you at lunch, was going to swing by soon to check on you.”

“Sorry, was busy working, but I had to come tell you, I finished my tasks, so if you need my hands anywhere else I can pick up some slack.”

Sam’s brows lift, and he seems genuinely surprised, he sets the axe down, leaning on it, your eyes linger just a bit, he is missing the flannel, and you can’t help but notice how nice his arms look in his camp branded t-shirt. “Wow! You work quick!”

“Thanks!” You say with a big smile, feeling genuinely happy to hear the praise, Sam tells you, “I appreciate the hustle, seriously, but you worked so hard, you can totally take the rest of the day off. If you want you can help with some of the final clean up in the last few areas tomorrow.”

“Awesome! Totally would be happy to help out, I’ll see you at dinner.” You say, and he stops you, “Just one second. I have a question.”

“Shoot.” You prompt him, and he says, “How did you get the rest of your work done so quick?”

“C’mon, man, I worked through lunch.” You say with a smile before tacking on, “And I’m just that good.”

“Well, you didn’t eat then?” You shake your head and Sam tuts, he leans the axe against the pile of good as he tells you, “That’s no good, dinner is hours off yet, follow me.”

That is the first time you find yourself in Sam Wescott’s office. It’s nice, homey, the windows let in a lot of natural light, his desk is organized. There is a shelf with pictures from summer's previous, you recognize locations from around the camp, Sam was a cute kid. He offers up half of his own sandwich from lunch and a small bag of chips. You grin and take them gratefully, “Oh, thank you so much!”

“Least I can do, you can’t go hungry.” He said easily enough with a nod. “Now go enjoy the rest of your day.”

You turn on your heel with another thank you, and you hear him say after you, “Thank God you joined up this summer.”

The feeling was mutual. You ponder how well fed you were between Buddy and Sam as you munched on turkey on wheat on the way back to your cabin. You caught a power nap and a chapter of your book before dinner.

After another great meal, where you made sure to thank Buddy profusely for the dinner he teased you, “Seriously, I missed you at lunch again, you gotta stop working so hard, you’ll burn out, and we aren’t even a week in!” You told him you appreciated his concern, but that you’d be fine. After dinner, you had nothing going on, tonight there was no set activity, seemed everyone had been working themselves very hard, it was a free night, do whatever. You go to your cabin again, gather your things, and go have your first proper shower since arriving. You really scrub yourself down, much more involved than the quick rinse the other day, the rest of the night is spent relaxing and reading one of the many books you brought along.

You pass out and wake up mid-morning to the sound of knocking on your cabin door. Stumbling out of bed, you make your way to the door and pull it open to find Sam standing outside. “Hey! Oh, my God, I am so sorry, did I wake you up?”

A glance down at yourself still in your tank top and sleep short shorts, you shrug, “Yeah, but no worries, what’s up?”

He nodded and said, “I was just wondering if you could show me around the boat house after breakfast? And then I can show you where else we might need your help?”

“Oh yeah, sounds great!” You tell him with a nod, you try to smile but end up yawning, you cover your mouth slightly embarrassed, and Sam says, “Great, see you post breakfast.”

You wave, “See you then.” You close the door and since you are awake you set to getting dressed and ready. You head out over Buddy serving you French toast and bacon, he greets you with a surprising amount of cheer for it being so early, you suppose you are making an impression.

“What are you doing today?” He inquires, and you ask, “Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m done with my work, wondering if I could get that canoe ride?” He asks, and you tell him, “Sam has to check over my work and I said I would help out some other people, but I can totally make a bit of time for that today.”

“Yeah?” He asked, and you told him, “Absolutely! I’m excited about it, dying to get out on the water already, it’s been too long.”

“Amazing, maybe after lunch?” He asked, and you said genuinely, “I’ll do my best.”

Post breakfast you grab Sam and steer him in the direction of the boat house, you show him everything, walk around pointing out all you did and Sam is very impressed, “You REPAINTED the boats?!”

His mouth was hanging open, he reminds you a bit of a fish, and you laugh, “Well most of them, this one was in surprisingly good shape!” You say, patting the side of it. “They look like new, right? I even redid the camp Clear Vista on the sides.”

“I am speechless.” He had his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief, and you felt very, very proud of yourself, “Where else do you need me?”

“Oh yes! About that-” He clapped his hands together and said, “-I asked around and turns out everyone is all caught up, so everyone gets a free day!”

That IS very good fucking news. You have the whole day to do whatever you want! You ask Sam, “What are you going to do?”

“I am going to finish up some last minute paperwork, look over everyone else's work-” The way he shares his admission is slightly shy, he rushes to tell you next, “-but I will be able to join for the fire tonight!”

Stifling a laugh, telling him, “Sam, you work too hard, you better have some real fun tonight.” You sigh after, and he promises, “I will.”

Satisfied, you wish him well on the remainder of his work, and you make your way back to the mess hall. You head right back to the kitchen, and you push open the door calling out, “Oh Buddy?”

The fridge closes, and you see his curly haired head pop into view, “Surprised to see you here already.”

“I’ve got good news! Sam told me everyone is all caught up, everyone has a free day, so I am ready whenever you are.” You tell him, and he says, “That is very good news! I’ve got some of my own too, today is grab and go for lunch.”

He gestures to the trays on the table, “I am gonna put em out there and people can get whatever they want, I did it, so everyone could grab whatever to finish their work, but now I guess they can grab it and go wherever they want.”

This is wonderful all around. You help Buddy put everything out for anyone to grab before he tells you, “Let me just finish the cleanup, I’ll meet you at the boathouse in a half hour?”

You nod and go off to get some things ready. You love even this, getting everything together to go out on the water, the half hour passes easily and Buddy joins you, he lets you take the lead, and you help him get in the boat, and you are pushing off. Buddy’s curls are hidden from view, wearing a bucket hat, he is wearing some of the sunscreen you brought, he had packed some of the lunch stuff for you guys to enjoy. The conversation flows like the water the boat is in, you talk easily but also share comfortable and companionable silences. You talk a bit about technique, how to maintain balance, steering, and Buddy listens to every word.

He breaks one of the bouts of silences by saying, “You really know your shit.”

A light laugh, the running water and rustling of the trees clear in the backdrop, “I’d hope so after all this time. Can’t tell you how many hours I have spent under the sun and in a boat.”

While you guys are paused, simply floating, eating lunch, he says, “I think I get it.”

You hum questioningly and Buddy says, “Why you like it. S’ real calming.”

Brightening considerably, you tell him, “Yeah it is! Very calming, I love how still and quiet everything can be out here. Gives me a chance to reflect.”

“Could use some of that from time to time?” He asked, and you nodded, taking another bite of your sandwich, “Yup, you?”

He sighed before parroting you, “Yup.”

“Canada that stressful?” You ask, and he laughs, a small startled sound, “No, no, the country is not.”

“How would I know? I’ve never been. Could be a lawless wasteland for all I know.”

“It isn’t that different from America, you know.” He teases, and you say, “Then why’d you leave?”

He shakes his head, “Oh you know, just…Wanted a change of scenery. I’m young, why not get outta the country, see some of the world?”

Fair enough. Can’t fault him for that.

The rest of lunch is nice, you get him back to the shore, and you say, “We should do this again sometime.”

“I would love that, make it a regular thing.” He took off his life jacket and passed it over and told you, “I have to go get a start on dinner, thanks again for the ride.”

“Anytime.” You wave, and he returns it, you watch him go before cleaning up, getting the canoe out of the water and back in place. Back at your cabin, you do some more reading for a while until you feel a little restless.

You want to enjoy the nice weather, take advantage of it, back outside you go and during your walk you come across Sam, finally done with his work. He seems more at peace just from the relaxed expression on his face. You end up sitting on this hill together, you can see most of the camp, the sun is starting to set, dinner will be soon.

Sam says, “This is my favorite place at camp.”

You glance over at him, the orange light playing off his features, the shadows that fall and your eyes follow his lips as they move, “It’s nice up here, the view is great, just the air feels better out here you know? Fills up my lungs in a way that they don’t get filled up anywhere else.”

You let him talk, and he continues, “I am so excited, this place means the world to me, and I am dying to make this even better than it used to be when I was a kid, you know?”

Meeting your eyes, he says, “Thank you for all your help, not to be a total sap, but I’m really grateful.”

It has only been three days, but you already feel closer to Sam, you have a really good feeling about your blossoming friendship.

“I don’t think you are a sap, I can tell this is really important to you. I’m happy to help make it happen.” You said, you stretch before leaning back on your hands, the grass feels cool, you look up at the colourful sky and say, “I want the same things you do, you know. I want to make this the kind of summer I remember having as a kid, and hey, maybe it is a little selfish, but I kinda wanna try and recapture some of that for myself.”

He was a little vulnerable with you, no shame in being a tad vulnerable back.

“I hope you can.” Sam sounded so sincere, it was utterly endearing.

Dinner was a bigger deal tonight, Buddy and Jason poured a ton of effort into it, and there were many thanks all around. You talked excitedly with your fellow counsellors about the busy day ahead tomorrow with the first batch of kids arriving. After dessert, a make your own sundae bar, you had seconds, everyone headed back out to the fire pit.

Alex, one of the other counsellors was going to be song leader, he came out with his guitar, he plays songs and everyone sings along, Buddy is less than impressed, you offer to sit with him and do so at the fringes of the group. You and he are having a drink and that is when Sam comes over.

“Not singing?” Sam asks, and you laugh, a gesture of your head to your brunette and not so musically inclined haired companion, “Buddy isn’t a fan of singing and I didn’t want him to sit alone.”

Sam seemed surprised to hear of this and said, “Nice of you to not leave him lonely.”

Buddy hums and takes a drink, a nod before saying, “Yeah she’s been great at checking in on me, we went out on the water earlier.”

“She took you out in a canoe?” Sam asked slowly, and you said confidently, happiness apparent, “First go of the season! It was so fun, Buddy had never been in a canoe before, can you believe it?”

“I cannot.” Sam laughs, “I do believe about her checking in on you, she’s been doing the same with me.”

“Oh, thanks by the way for showing me that spot on the hill, totally gorgeous, you might bump into me there on my own sometimes.” You say with a cock of your head and a raise of your brows, and Buddy not wanting to be left out, asks, “Spot on the hill?”

“Yeah, there’s this nice place that you can see almost all the camp from, Sam and I sat up there, had a good talk at sunset before dinner.”

“A conversation at sunset.” Buddy mused, can at his lips, “You’re real busy, aren’t you?” He asks with a nudge of your shoulder, and you put your hands up, “Guilty.”

You see it then, a look on Sam’s face at the easy physical contact between you and Buddy, there was something to it, you look over at Buddy and see them both looking at one another, almost considering each other. You look between the pair and the realization starts to sink in, you are starting to like them both and if the way they are looking at each other and reacting to hearing how you have been spending time one on one, they might be beginning to like you too.

Maybe this summer is going to lead to more. But how could you ever pick between them?

#Poly!Camping Boys x reader #Buddy Swanson X reader #Sam Wescott X Reader #BHF Writing #Tentatively Tending To Trauma #TTTT

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