#glad she finally lived up to all the promise of her junior years

[soursatellite]

The Waters We Brave - Ch. 1

Pairing: Gurney Halleck x Original Female Character (Moira Atreides)

Summary: The year is 10,189. House Atreides stands strong as one of the great houses of the known universe. Marchioness Moira Atreides, sister to the great Duke Leto, begins to fear the plots hiding beneath the waves.

Tags: Age Gap (original character is 31 and Gurney is in his early 50's), YEARNING, slow burn, devious political plots, plot heavy, fluff, angst, did I mention we're yearning? Leto and Moira being the sibling duo to end all sibling duos, Jessica and Moira being the girlbosses to end all girlbosses

Warnings: Self harm in the form of picking at skin due to stress

WC: 5044

Author's Note: It's here! This is my first ever fanfic and I'm so excited to be posting this. I hope all you Gurney lovers out there find some enjoyment in this. This is an introductory and VERY plot/character establishment heavy chapter. So if you like this and want me to keep writing this series PLEASE PLEASE let me know. I want to hear all of your thoughts. I promise that if I write future chapters they will be more GurneyxOC heavy, I just loved writting the political intrigue. Much love, Sputnik <3

Excerpt from the Histories of House Atreides:

The Duchess in the Shadows

  We turn now to another member of the House Atreides; the younger sister of the Duke Leto, Lady Moira Atreides. 12 years his junior in age but equal in mind, Moira Atreides was the picture of political prowess alongside her brother. She played such an integral part in his rule that some referred to her as, ‘The Duchess in the Shadows’. 

  Despite not being the direct heir, Lady Moira was raised with all the training a person of high political esteem may need by her and Leto’s father as a powerful asset to his son’s rule. And live up to the expectation she did. 

The Marchioness’ heavy dress whipped in the Caladanian winds as the door of the ship opened into a ramp, the feeling of the breeze a cool salve across her cheek and mind. She turns to look at the Atreides Warmaster, Gurney Halleck, standing slightly behind her left, “Are you not delighted to be home, dear Warmaster?” 

  The man’s face remained set in stone, “Overjoyed, my Lady”

  A laugh escapes her lips, “careful, one day you may slip up and I may be able to tell how you feel without asking,” the woman faces forward once again. The vessel they were onboard let out a final groan as its ramp fully extended. Moira couldn’t help stealing a deep breath of the air of her home world, a crisp welcome that she never failed to love. The few strands of her dark hair that had escaped the intricate updo atop her head tickled the sides of her face. Nothing could quell the joy that filled her heart upon returning home even after her 31 years of life on the planet. 

  The smile it brought her fails to leave her lips as she sees her family there to greet her. Her brother the Duke Leto, her good friend Lady Jessica, and beloved nephew Paul. The boy ran forward as Moira reached Caladans ground and pulled his Aunt into a firm hug. She gives a joking groan and pats his back, “Gods, my boy. As much as I adore your welcomes you cannot continue your greetings like this. When you are a man grown you will knock me off my feet.”

  The boy ignores her tease and pulls back with a smile, “we are happy for your return. And yours as well, Warmaster,” he says looking from his aunt to his tutor. The boy had already passed Moira in height despite being in his mid teens. The two share their pale skin and wavy dark hair, but he gained the greenish-blue eyes of his mother while Leto and Moira shared eyes of a dark brown.

  The Marchioness pats the boy’s back before continuing to walk towards Lady Jessica and Leto, “We are glad to be back. It feels like ages since I was graced with the loveliness of our home,” she holds out her arm to her brother for him to shake, and the man can’t help but let out his own laugh and grab her arm, pulling her into a firm, quick hug, “A month you have been gone, sister. One month too long. The planet has missed you.”

  “Well not just the planet I hope,” she says, sharing a smile with Jessica. 

  The woman gives a pleased look to her friend and takes her hand from Leto’s, “We’ve had a dinner prepared for your arrival. I know you must be exhausted, but it’s nothing a good meal among family won’t fix,” the group of them begin walking into the castle.

  As they walk, Moira catches Gurney starting to split off from the group and halts, “you will be joining us won’t you, sir?”

  He stops in place and turns, meeting the expectant eyes of the Lady Moira, “I did not wish to intrude, my Lady.”

  “Nonsense, Gurney,” she walks forward to him and takes his hand in hers, “you know you are family as much as the rest of us.”

  The man looks down at his rough hand encased in the Lady’s smooth skin, struggling to find the words to reply before Leto pipes up, “Yes we insist, Gurney. You must join us.”

  He clears his throat lightly and nods, “If the Duke and his family wish it.”

  Moira smiles. Ever the professional Gurney was. If Moira had learned anything in her years traveling with him, it was that the man would not seek to make his wishes known unless they could be phrased in a way that would please her or her lord brother.

  “Good. Now go get cleaned up and we will see you in our dining hall,” she gives his hand one last squeeze and Gurney gives her nothing more than a short nod before walking off. Moira turns back to her family, “I shall see you all in an hour.”

Gurney, above all else, was reliable. He was loyal and set in his ways, a feature he prided himself on. When the young Duke Leto Atreides had liberated the man from the Harkonnens in an Atreides raid on Giedi Prime, he vowed his loyalty to the Duke and his family. Thus his new routine was set in place. He proudly served his Duke and his family upon rising to the rank of Warmaster, and happily fell into routine. He tutored the Duke’s young son Paul and trained his soldiers. When the long day was done, he would retire to his room, read his books, and play the Baliset. With all the tumultuous tides his early life had brought, Gurney would have happily spent his eternity in this life, but life hardly let us have what we wanted. 

For the better part of the last two years, Gurney Halleck had found himself accompanying the Marchioness Moira Atreides on cross world and interplanetary diplomatic voyages. Now Lady Moira and Gurney sat at the private dinner table of Duke Leto, Lady Jessica, and the young pup Paul. The brother and sister talked emphatically of the recent excursion and the three others in the room simply sat and ate their dinners silently, they would hardly have been able to get a word in if they’d wanted to. Everyone knew that attempting to pull the siblings' attention from each other after they’d been apart and had so much to discuss was like trying to get a child to look away from a sky full of colorful fireworks.

The Warmaster had hardly noticed that his mind had been so far elsewhere from the table until he heard a lull of silence and looked up to see Lady Moira and the rest of the table looking at him expectantly after Moira had said something he’d failed to hear. Gurney internally chastised himself for not being vigilant in the conversation before asking, “I’m sorry, what was that, my Lady..?”

  Gurney’s flustered state (of course flustering Gurney was as simple as catching him without an immediate phrase or retaliation) was met with a simple smile that twitched at the edges of the Lady’s lips, amusement twinkling in her eyes, “I said the people on Exodeos were quite enthralled with your baliset playing, weren’t they?”

  The Warmaster recovered quickly and stopped himself from mindlessly stabbing at his food to regain some semblance of professionalism despite the fact that he was among family, “Oh, yes they were, my Lady,” there was a pause as Gurney clears his throat and tries to brush off the affectionately teasing comment, “Every time I set it down they begged for one more tune,” Gurney said, trying to regale the talk with a tone of amusement, as much as his monotone voice would allow. 

  Moira laughed and looked back to the other members of her family, “you should all be jealous that I got to hear so much. We all know how difficult it is to get our dear Warmaster to play for us, but I think he simply couldn’t resist the applause.” Everyone chuckles and Gurney can’t help looking back to his food. He wasn’t offended by the Lady’s prodding; not in the slightest. He wasn’t sure the woman could ever offend him. That was what made things so difficult. 

  The dinner was a pleasant one. Too often did Gurney deny himself the enjoyment of a nice meal, usually opting to scarf it down as fast as possible to return to his work. Of course he would never dream of disrespecting his royal family like that and remained seated for the entirety of the meal, listening silently to the conversations of the group.

  When the dinner was done, they all stood. The Duke was the first to excuse himself, and Gurney quickly bowed to excuse himself, but could not begin to move away before Lady Moira stopped him. She turned and said a quick word to Jessica about meeting her in her library for a cup of tea before returning to the Warmaster, “I do hope you take leave for the rest of the evening. We’ve had a long journey, and I do not wish to see you over exert yourself,”

  “It is not overexertion if I find the work pleasing, my Lady,” he replies simply, knowing she will disapprove.

  She just gives him a look and asserts herself, “I mean it. Take the rest of the night off. Your men will last a few more hours without you,” her words are firm, and full of seriousness. But he knows she speaks from a place of concern, and her tone does not lack lightness. 

  He nods and replies, “If you insist, my Lady,” as if he would ever disobey an order from her. 

  Moira’s smile graced her lips once more and she nodded. Letting him go, she turns and walks out of the dining hall. He hardly notices his eyes following her until he turns and meets the eyes of the young Paul Atreides, a slightly mischievous smirk upon his face. Gurney looks at him unamused, “Just because your aunt has dismissed me from duty doesn’t mean she has done the same for you. Back to your studies, young pup,” he clasps the back of the boy’s shoulder before going to his chambers, the boy letting out an immature groan behind him.

Lady Moira’s private library was vast; filled with literature, histories, and journals from planets across the known universe, including her own records of things. A sturdy wooden desk sat proudly in the center, the full shelves lining the walls surrounding it. Two plush chairs sat by a window, turned in towards a small coffee table where the tea cup of the Lady sat steaming.

  The Lady Jessica sat, cradling the warm cup in her slender hands as she watched her friend pace back and forth in front of the looming shelves. One a skilled Bene Gesserit, and the other a fearsome politician, Jessica and Moira shared many a whispered conversation in the cold room under the light of the glowglobe. They had been each other’s closest confidants since Jessica’s arrival as the Duke’s concubine, both in work and friendship. Between the two of them, it was nearly impossible for something to escape the castle unheard or unseen.

  This particular night, Lady Jessica did most of the listening as the Marchioness relayed some of the more minute details of her recent escapade that she had yet to share with the Duke. Things like public opinions on their house and discrete conversations she’d heard. The Lady doesn’t miss as her friend’s shoulder’s grow more and more tense and she picks more harshly at the skin around her nails, as if there’s something building in her; bursting at the seems to be let out but being held back by the twines of self preservation. Jessica takes the liberty of snipping that thread.

  “Something troubles you,” the words are direct, not a question, “You’ve heard something. Or seen it?” Jessica sips the hot liquid and keeps her eyes set on Moira’s avoidant ones.

  Lady Moira lets out a deep sigh, her body deflating but maintaining it’s rigidity, “the waters we brave are rocky, Jessica,” the woman stands behind the chair she would have used if not for the anxiety keeping her on her feet and grips the backrest of it with firm knuckles, “Opinions of the name ‘Atreides’ grow stronger, in many ways.”

  “But you always have stated that the positive dealings far outweigh the negative-”

  “They do and that’s what worries me,” The Marchioness’ dark brows crease as she stares down at her knuckles, her eyes glossed over with thought, “we move further and further from a safe and steady neutral. More people across the known universe have a growing love and support for Leto, but this only means that those who wish to see him fall will rise to meet that demand. Rumors have begun to circulate surrounding me.. Some are saying that I wish to usurp my brother’s throne.”

  Jessica sips her tea with no more urgency before replying to the Lady of the House. She was aware of these rumors that sometimes circled between the common folk who had nothing better to talk about sometimes than unrest within the royal house, but she knew better than anyone that these words weren’t true. 

  “Those that doubt your intentions are looking for theatrics where there are none. The Duke knows you have his best interests at heart. As do I. Leto would never believe these histrionic claims made about the person who has so vehemently supported his reign from the very beginning.”

  Jessica’s eyes are drawn down to her Lady’s hands that burn a raw red around the nail beds, her eyes still not meeting Jessica’s own. “It’s not the rumors themselves that worry me, it’s where I’m finding them. Planets far away that have no prior attachment to the House Atreides and should not have any care for our politics. The eyes I have sent around the galaxy have seen them on planets the Duke has not touched.”

  The cause of Moira’s concern becomes clear and Jessica lowers her teacup to her lap, “They’re being planted. Who would benefit from such whispers? An attempt to turn the people against the Duke or the Duke against you.. Is it a Harkonnen plot?”

  “No no, it’s not the Harkonnens,” Moira moves from her previous spot and begins walking along the sides of the room near the door, listening for unwanted spectators, “They would benefit yes but they’re not the cause. It’s much too subtle of a plan and is being found far outside of their range of jurisdiction…” The Lady’s voice falters into a pause of hesitation and Jessica grips her cup.

  “You suspect someone..?

  Moira’s lips purse in hesitation as she reaches and locks the door before moving to Jessica. The Bene Gesserit mirrors the urgency, setting down her cup and standing to meet the woman’s gaze. Moira holds the Lady’s arm with a steady gentleness and whispers in her ear in a tone just above silence “the Emperor Shaddam.”

  The Lady Jessica snaps her head and meets the dark eyes of the Marchioness for the first time this evening. There is no jest in them; no sense of uncertainty, only fear encased in an iron shell of will. The Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, “you’re sure?”

  “As sure as I can be,” Moira takes one of Jessica’s hands and clasps it in her own, “by spreading these rumors he allows a shadow of doubt to befall Leto. To us they seem completely unfounded but to others it could mean a lessening of their faith in him. Their validity and plausibility hardly matter. It’s simply the doubt in Leto’s ability he wishes to sow. But I believe this could all be part of a much bigger plot. Something much more sinister ..”

  Jessica nods as the two women share a knowing look, “we must not fear…”

  A smirk twitches in the corners of Moira’s lips “and we shall not,” she gives Jessica’s hands a light squeeze, “don’t worry yourself with this immediately, and do not mention what I have told you to anyone, not even Leto. I will tell him when the moment arises.. We’ve yet to know how deep these roots have grown and how many seeds have been planted. Being too hasty with things will only deepen the wound. I want you to focus your attention on Paul and his training. You may have set him up to help us in ways we do not yet know. Now, the hour is late. I will retire for the night and I advise you to do the same.”

  The Bene Gesserit nods and soothes away the worry from her sea-glass eyes in a way only a Bene Gesserit could, “anything I come across will be brought to you,” and with that the woman slipped away into the darkness. Perhaps the women’s affinity for the shadows aided in their friendship. Moira knew that it certainly aided in their design.

  As the door shut behind Jessica the Lady Moira allows her shoulder, brittle from the weight of everything on her mind, to crumble. Much of her dignity had lain in her ability to bear the burdens of her profession. She was not so caught up in her upbringing that she allowed herself to ignore the vast pleasures and ease of living she experienced on a daily basis, but the mental price was a hefty one. And she had no one to blame but herself for her involvement in it. 

  Moira collapses into one of the plush chairs, her hands coming up to rub her face in an attempt to push the thoughts from her mind. It was like the stress had made her whole body on edge. Everything felt elevated; from the throbbing weight of her braided hair being amassed on top of her head to the stinging of the torn skin of her fingers. She could hear the chastising of her brother in her head, ‘why do you torment yourself so? I know you do enough of it mentally for the both of us’.

  It’s not until long after the Lady says she was going to head back to her chambers that she finally does so, saying a prayer to the gods that she would find rest easily despite knowing that was a hopeless wish.

Gurney always struggled to find sleep the first night after returning home. He put all his effort into adjusting to the schedules of whatever planet they may go to in order to maintain top performance, mentally and physically. He knew he was in extremely good shape for his age, even better than most men much younger than himself, but that didn’t mean he was ignorant to the extra effort it took to keep it that way. 

  When the second hour with no sleep had passed, he let out a heavy sigh before standing, pulling on a simple outfit and shoes to go take a walk through the castle in an attempt to clear his head and wear himself out

  He was always on high alert when on a voyage with the Marchioness. That level of awareness could be hard to let go of upon returning. Her safety was Gurney’s number one priority the second their vessel left Caladan to the moment they returned. The Lady Moira had gone on diplomatic missions for years before Gurney was officially assigned to accompany her. She’s always been protected, sent with an entourage of guards. It had always been enough for her, especially in her early days as a young politician. People would pay her little mind and she was able to slink between conversations all she liked without much notice.

  Of course it didn’t remain that way. As Leto became more popular, more attention also found its way to his envoy. When Leto heard there had been plots of an attempt on his sister’s life that nearly came to fruition, he spared no time upping her guards. Gurney distinctly remembers the moment, nearly two years ago, when the Duke had called him to his office and commanded that the Warmaster accompany Lady Moira on all future diplomatic missions. The man phrased it as if part of the reason was that it was important his master of war was just as just as tuned in to these foreign relations, but Gurney knew the most vital thing was keeping the Marchioness safe. One thing Gurney was certain of is that if one of the Atreides siblings was taken from the other, only tragedy would befall the one that remained.

  And thus the Warmaster found himself in the company of the Marchioness of Caladan, Moira Atreides. Despite the fact that Gurney Halleck had served as Warmaster to the Atreides house for more moons than he could count at this point, it was only when Leto had officially assigned Gurney to accompany Lady Moira that he actually spent time with the Duke’s illustrious sister. For most of his service, he cared only for war and the protection of the Duke. He didn’t concern himself with politics much in the beginning. His only impression of the Lady was restricted to flashes of her dark hair and intricate gowns in the halls, or when he’d go to meet his Duke and find her there rambling things of great importance that would immediately stop the moment he entered the room. He knew the Duke thought of her highly, more so than almost anyone. That was enough for him to respect her. 

Gurney would be lying if he said he didn’t find her a tad unnerving at first. Sometimes she would come into the training room to watch his training of the soldiers, her face devoid of any discernible emotion about what she saw, simply watching and then leaving without a word. She had an air of inquisition; like nothing said to her was safe from being fully examined and scrutinized. It had led to Gurney attempting to keep all of his interactions with her very brief, like she would somehow know things of him that he himself didn’t know and would sniff out something particularly displeasing that would have him removed from the Duke’s service. He’d seen the very thing happen to advisors who one day had been in very close conversation with the Duke, and the next were expelled due to the exposing of a more devious plot. He wished very deeply to never be on that side of her sharp bladed silver tongue. 

  Luckily, and a tad surprisingly, for him, the Marchioness’ disposition around trusted friends was much different from the air she held herself with professionally. He’d been surprised when, about six months into her service, she’d called him to accompany her. He’d adorned his entire ensemble, ready for whatever the lady might request, only to find out she wished to stroll in the gardens of the planet the royal family they were staying with on that particular journey. Gurney wasn’t sure how, or when, he had gained the good favor of his lady, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

  Part of him felt some shame when he realized he’d expected her to be much colder. He’d only been used to seeing her in stuffy meeting rooms with a back as straight as a needle or in her offices writing furiously within her journals. This first day of leisure when he accompanied her allowed him to realize for the first time after an embarrassing amount of years, that Lady Moira Atreides was a woman who had found herself in her position merely by the chance of the universe. And that that position often left her in solitude far from the comforts of home. Despite the fact that that day in the garden’s he had done nothing but stand by her side and offer his gruff responses to her comments, she had decided that he was to be not just her colleague and guard, but her friend.

  Looking back, he sometimes wished it wasn’t so; wished that he had been meaner despite how difficult it was to be mean to her. Then he would not find himself in her close proximity as often as he did. Then he would not know the feeling of her hand on his as she tries to get his attention. He wouldn’t know the feeling of her soft hair that sunlight soaked into as he moved it out of the way to adjust her necklace upon her request. Gurney found himself wishing he did not know of her softness so that he would not need to deal with its absence. He felt shrouded in shame as he knew his affections had surpassed those appropriate for a Warmaster and his Lady. Even breathing the same air as her felt like a vice.

  Gurney couldn’t find the will to be surprised as the universe taunted him now and laughed in his face. Not even five minutes into his walk and he spots the Lady Moira. She stands alone in one of the vast corridors of Castle Caladan, only lined with windows that look out upon the oceans and cliffs of the planet. Her hair, usually woven up into various braids, now fell loose, like an inky,waving waterfall all the way down her back and to her hips. The Marchioness was shrouded in a thick, intricate robe. She didn’t seem to see the Warmaster, her dark brows furrowed in pensive thought. She always seemed to look that way when she thought nobody was looking; like worry had been etched into her face and the weight of her unsaid thoughts weighed upon her shoulders. 

  He tries to give a slight cough before speaking so as not to startle her too much, “are you unable to sleep, my Lady?”

  Gurney hears the small, sharp intake of her breath as she turns to look at him, visibly relaxing a touch when she sees him, “Oh, Gurney. I apologize, I didn’t see you,” she turns her eyes back to the window, “yes I’ve had trouble finding sleep. Too much on my mind from the journey I suppose..” her words trailed off, like her mind was elsewhere. 

  He nodded in understanding and took only a few steps toward her, “me as well, my Lady. It is always difficult to find our footing again,” she nods and tries to give him a slight smile in reply, but the action is a forced one. The woman hadn’t been able to scrub the look of concern off her features, “If I may be so bold, my Lady, what is it that troubles you..?”

  “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, Gurney.”

  “But if it would ease your mind then-”

  “It’s nothing,” she says firmly, cutting him off. Hardly a few seconds can pass before he sees the regret fill her eyes with the way she had spoken to him. She breathes in and continues, “I am fine, I promise. I thank you for your concern, Warmaster Halleck,” Despite her tone easing, he doesn’t miss the remaining tension in her shoulders, nor the fresh irritated skin of her fingers as she wrings her hands together. But Gurney knows better than to push the matter further and simply nods.

  A silence resonates between them before Gurney speaks again, “may I join you, my Lady?” Even with the torment it will no doubt bring him, he cannot deny himself the blessing of her presence.

  This brings a soft smile to Moira’s face, “you know you needn’t ever request a place by my side, Gurney. You always have it”

  Gurney cannot resist the twitch at the corner of his lips at her reply as he moves closer to her, “I always find it a good practice to ask. I’d never wish to offend you.”

  Moira laughs softly, “I doubt you could ever offend me, Gurney Halleck,” his palms betray him as they grow sweaty, “if anything, I’d be offended that you’d think me so self important that I’d refuse,” a glint of moonlight twinkles in her deep eyes as she looks to him. 

  Her teasing encouraged him to relax. He knew the one thing that the Lady despised was when people neglected to speak freely or joke with her because of her status, “You simply surprise me that you find my company enjoyable, my Lady.”

  “And why wouldn’t I?”

  Gurney couldn’t resist a chuckle at her question, “I am a difficult and stubborn old man. I can be crude in my tongue and set in my ways. Many consider me a rather woeful form of company.”

  She does not deny him, a simple laugh of acknowledgement leaving her which he assumes will be the end of her reply before she tacks on, “but not to me.”

  But not to me

  Gurney can not find a reply as his tongue lays dry in his mouth. He hopes that his decision to leave her words ringing in silence seems like an intentional one, and not an obvious result of her leaving him with no amiable response. 

  Luckily for him, Moira seems content standing in silence for the next few minutes before she pipes up, “I really should go to bed. Thank you for keeping me company, Sir Halleck. Would you be willing to accompany me back to my room?

  Yes. 

  “Should that please you, my Lady.”

  Moira wordlessly links her arm with his like she had many times across many planets as he guides her through the familiar halls of the castle. Gurney finds himself hoping that his rigidity is one of the features his Lady is pleased with about him.

  When they reach the large wooden doors of the Marchioness’ chambers she slips her arm out of his and moves to open her door, but stops to look at the Warmaster, “please do find rest tonight, Sir Halleck. Our world is not one that allows for much of it,” he sees that flash of worry flick in her eyes but he simply nods with a slight bow and bids her goodnight. 

  Gurney cannot rid himself of the feeling of the weight of her arm resting on his own the entire way back to his chambers.

[disturbedbeautywrites]

League of His Own - Chapter 1

Rafe Cameron college baseball AU

Prologue

Anxiety and excitement; those were the two main feelings you had as you walked into orientation behind Liv. She was talking a million miles a minute, her hands and arms making wide gestures that you couldn’t keep up with even if you tried. “And I tried telling him how stupid that was… Wait, are you even listening?” Her voice was fading into the background noise of the room as you took a seat in the huge auditorium, your eyes scanning the seats around you. “Y/N! Earth to Y/N!” And now she was waving her hand in front of your face, eyes snapping to look at her as you apologized profusely.

She just chuckled and shook her head, patting your shoulder. “I know, it’s all super overwhelming at first. It’ll get better though, I promise.” She nodded and let you take in everything around you for a few minutes. The room was filled with freshmen and other transfer students, each carrying on their own conversations or living in their own individual worlds.

It was crazy to think that you were about to go into your junior year of college, and you were giving yourself a fresh start. But it was also a breath of fresh air. You needed some change after how things went at your old school. You had a crazy ex-boyfriend there, and a lot of drama you were glad to leave behind.

You were lost in your thoughts until Liv slapped your arm, claiming she was trying to be inconspicuous, but failing miserably. “Ready to see who Mr. Hotshot is?” Her nickname for the man she named earlier, Rae, rain? You couldn’t remember, but it was enough to make you laugh quietly to yourself. She either really hated the man or had the biggest crush on him, you couldn’t decide. She nodded down to the front of the room where three boys had just made their ways in, each of them wearing a NCU baseball shirt and matching sweatpants.

“So, that’s the trio of trouble around here. The one on the end there, in the blue shirt is Kelce. He plays third base Along with the entire population of girls here. He’s a total douchebag and I’m not convinced that he isn’t a steroid user.” She nodded and gave you time to listen to her before she continued on, her eyes now landing on the guy on the other end. “The guy there in the white shirt is Topper, why did his parents name him that? No one has any idea other than we’re all convinced they hated him.  He plays centerfield, even though he doesn’t look very athletic. He has speed that comes out of nowhere. Very good with his glove and his hands.” She then moved her eyes to look at the guy in the middle and she looked back to you to get your reaction. “And finally, the guy in the middle. That there is Mr. Baseball captain himself, Rafe Cameron. Total heartthrob of the school and possible future MLB recruit. He is a pitcher and also filthy rich due to his daddy owning half of the real estate on the outer banks. Also has a matching jerk personality to match, but he’s definitely pretty to look at.” She finished her introductions to the boys as she watched you nod along, eyes trained on the one she named as Rafe.

She was right, he was pretty to look at. His hair was swept back in a neat fashion, a few strands hanging over his forehead. His eyes were steel blue and his smile was completely perfect. He looked like he stepped out of an Abercrombie catalogue and decided to pretend to be a college student for a photoshoot.

As they walked in, everyone seemed to take notice and they ate up the attention. They smirked and made sure to walk as slow as they could through the front of the room, loving how all the girls had their eyes trained on them. It was laughable, honestly. But, for some reason you were just like the other freshman girls oogling at them. “And there she goes. We’ve lost her.” Liv’s voice was the comedic relief you needed to snap out of your trance, your laughter leaving your lips easily as you looked over at her. “You did not, you’re just being dramatic.” You rolled your eyes at her before you settled back into your seat, playing on your phone to avoid eye contact with her.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our favorite softball player. Have you thought about my offer yet, Liv? It still stands this year.” The voice came from the boy that she had pointed out earlier that was named Kelce, his body plopping down in the seat in front of you. He had turned his body to face the two of you, a smirk on his lips as Liv flipped him off and scoffed. “Still a lesbian, idiot. Nice try though.” He just chuckled and raised his hands in defense before Topper came and sat down right next to him, his eyes flashing to you. “Oh! Excuse us for being rude. I’m Topper and this is Kelce. Now who might you be?” His tone was outright flirty, and it made bile rise up in your stomach at the effort he was putting into it.

“I’m Y/N, I just transferred here and I’m one of Liv’s roommates.” As soon as you said the words, she threw her arm around your shoulder, grinning at them. “Yeah, this is our new superstar that you guys keep hearing about. She’s going to help us kick ass this season.” Her words made you blush and look away as you felt a pair of eyes on you, curiosity getting the best of you. You peaked up and saw the same blue eyes from earlier checking you out, a small smirk on his lips as he spoke to the teacher who was running the orientation. He shot you a wink before he moved to lean against a wall.

“Alright, everyone listen up! We’re going to get started!” You heard the teacher at the front of the classroom call out, your eyes moving from Rafe to him as you swallowed thickly and tried to focus. But, you couldn’t get his eyes and smirk out of your mind and you found yourself letting your eyes wander to him throughout the entire time you were supposed to be listening.

The orientation drug on, but once it was done and everyone got up to leave you felt Liv grab your arm to hold you back. You looked at her with confusion on your face before she held up a finger to tell you to hang-on as Topper motioned her towards him. He whispered something in her ear and he motioned at you before she nodded and smirked to herself. She started walking and took your wrist, pulling you along behind her as she started to walk out of the auditorium and towards your shared apartment. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?” You looked at her expectantly as she grinned, looking at you with wide eyes. “How do you feel about going to a party with the rest of the team tonight? It’s being held at Rafe’s house, and it's always the party of the year.” She gave you a puppy dog look before you laughed and nodded, feeling her hug you super tight. “Sweet! Let’s go get ready to get our party on!”

You didnt know what you were getting yourself into, but what could go wrong? It was only a party.

[nevada-wrytes]

Excerpt from There Were Six of Them

Lux

A Sunday in November, Junior Year

It was Sunday, and on Sundays the gang went out for brunch.

Today, the weather was so dark and rainy that Lux had mistakenly thought it was only seven in the morning when she woke up past ten. Even at eleven, when she had finally dragged herself out of bed, there was still a small shower that soaked through her Uggs.

Ugh, why she wore them, when they were impractical as hell, she had no answer.

Every Sunday their entire friend group straggled out of bed to flock to a restaurant for a late breakfast, usually Lux’s treat because she loved spending money on her friends. It was her way of making up for things, she supposed.

Because today was so cold and gloomy, they decided to go to a retro dinner by the main street in town for some cheer. It wasn't far, so Lux decided to walk.

On her way, she pulled out her phone, reading through messages in the group chat to make sure everyone was going to be there.

She cherished these moments when they were all together, not that they were few and fleeting, but because she hated being alone.

A new message popped up.

Codi: Me n North running late k ily bye

Lux felt fleeting nausea in her stomach, but responded back with an enthusiastic ‘k’.

She bit her thumbnail, a habit she did whenever she was deep in thought.

Lux hoped everything was okay with Nick. He had disappeared yesterday and caused quite a panic. Luckily, they had found him in the end, but only Codi and Flynn had seen him. She was left to worry if what they said about his state was true.

Lux arrived at the diner faster than she had thought, but luckily Cleo and Flynn were already there. Flynn lived just down the street, so it was hard for him to be late.

“Hey guys,” Lux smiled and waved.

They waved back, offering their own greetings.

“Is Summer not here yet?” Lux asked.

Cleo answered, “No, she couldn't make it, remember? She has that competition in Manchester, she won't be back until tonight.”

“Oh, right.” Lux had completely forgotten. Again, that nausea in her gut surfaced.

“Oh!! But since it's still early maybe we can FaceTime her. I don't think her game starts until one, if we hurry we may catch her before she goes to warm up.”

“Yeah,” Lux agreed. Flynn gave two thumbs up, but Lux didn't think he had been listening. He was looking up the street.

“They're gonna be late, should we sit down?”

“Yeah, let's get out of the rain.”

Lux followed the two inside. A waitress led them to their favorite booth, they'd been here so many times the staff already knew their habits well.

Lux sat on one side and Cleo and Flynn slid into the opposite one.

Lux rubbed her hands together. They were cold.

Cleo must have picked up on this. Absently, she reached across the table to hold them in her own. Lux was glad for the heat. Her friend's familiarity with her habits almost made her cry.

“So what did you think of the math test, Lux?” Flynn began the idle chatter. “I did way worse than I wanted to..”

The conversation went back and forth about school and clubs and movies until they were interrupted by the arrival of Codi and Nick. Nick was trailing behind Codi, stooped over, like a lost puppy.

Codi greeted them all loudly, “Don't worry guys, your favorite has arrived!” He slid into the seat next to Lux, Nick right after him.

“I wasn't worried.” Flynn mumbled, with playful antagonism.

Codi kicked him under the table.

He slung an arm around Lux's shoulder, pressing up against her. “Did you at least miss me, Luxy?”

“You were late like, ten while minutes, so, no.” She pretended to push him out of her space but secretly she was glad for his warmth. It must have been cold in the diner.

Lux’s head turned to Nick, and she saw Cleo’s eyes on him as well. Nick was jittering his fingers nervously.

When no one said anything, he folded first.

“I’m so sorry for disappearing yesterday I know it was really irresponsible but I promise nothing bad happened.” He had his hands pressed together and head down as if he was begging for their forgiveness.

Lux chuckled, “That's alright North, important thing is you're safe.”

Cleo nodded. “Yeah, and you can always come talk to us if you need to get your thoughts out, none of us mind.”

Codi added, “Don't worry guys, I already gave him the lecture.”

Nick looked grateful. With the apology over, he seemed less nervous and shifted back into his usual self.

Codi asked, “Hey, where's Captain Levi? She running late?”

Captain Levi was Codi’s nickname for Summer. Lux did not know how or why he started calling her that, maybe because she was always captain of every sports team she joined, but Codi likes having weird nicknames for his friends.

“No, she’s at competition in Manchester. Oh! We should try calling her now, actually.” Cleo pulled out her phone and presumably rang Summer.

After a few seconds, she picked up.

“Heyyyy!” Everyone at the table said in unison.

Summer chuckled on the other end. Wherever she was, it sounded noisy.

“Aww, hi everyone.” When she saw Nick, her face brightened, “Nick!! You're okay? Everything safe and sound?”

Nick gave a thumbs up.

“Awesome. Are you at the diner? Don't tell me I'm missing Sunday Brunch.”

“You're not missing it because you're here right now!” said Cleo.

Lux butted in, “Summer, where even are you? It sounds so loud.”

“Oh, I'm in this big meeting hall, there's a lot of families here, that's why. We just had breakfast with one of the pro players and now we're going to attend a seminar or two.”

“When's your match?” asked Codi.

“Not til three pm. They moved it because of the conferences. Ugh, I'm not going to be home until nine, maybe even ten.” She groaned.

Flynn spoke up, “Need someone to drive you?”

“No, I'm good. There's a bus that takes us back, then I'll walk home from the school. Oh– I wish I could keep talking, but they just opened the auditorium doors so I think it's starting. I'll talk to y'all later, byeeee! Muchos besos! Mwah.”

Everyone waved and said bye. Then Cleo hung up. They continued their idle chatter where they left off, only stopping when someone came by to get their order. Everyone ordered the usual.

Lux felt a bit in a daze. The rain outside and grey skies only made everything feel even more dreamy. She loved her friends, so much, she wouldn't know what she'd do without them.

…

After brunch, they all went their separate ways. Cleo said she had a lot of work to do for school tomorrow and went back home. Flynn and Nick went to Flynn’s apartment to do their homework too, although probably much less efficiently than Cleo was about to. Codi followed Lux home because he was annoying like that.

Whatever, Lux was secretly glad for the company. She didn't want to spend her day alone.

“What's wrong, Lux? You seem a little sad today.”

Lux shuffled her feet. “I'm allowed to be sad sometimes.”

Codi bumped her shoulder. “Not what I meant silly, but I'll drop it if you don't wanna talk about it.”

“What about you? Why don't we ever talk about you? What's on your mind today? Are you doing fine?”

“Is that what you're worried about?”

Lux slumped. “No.” She had hoped to deflect the conversation onto him, but Codi already knew her tricks.

Luckily, Codi did drop it. They walked in silence the rest of the way. Halfway there, Codi grabbed her hand and swung it around. He probably would have proposed skipping home if she hadn't been in a foul mood.

Lux had forgotten her key, but the housekeeper let them in. Lux tried to get her to stay home on Sundays but Sarang said it was the easiest day for her to work.

Once inside, both Lux and Codi as acted systematically. Lux grabbed popcorn while Codi made hot chocolate.

He claimed making hot chocolate was a delicate art, getting the right balance of chocolate and heat was nearly impossible, so Lux sat on the counter and watched him work.

He carefully measured two heaping spoons full of hot chocolate mix, the one that came in packets and tastes like sugar— because that's the one Lux likes— and followed with boiling water in their favorite mugs. They had matching mugs. One said ‘Idiot #1’ and the other said ‘Idiot #2’. Lux had found them online and instantly knew it was a thing she and Codi had to have. They constantly switched who was the first idiot and who was the second, though. It didn't even matter, really, because they usually ended up drinking from the same mug anyways.

When Codi finished counting out the perfect number of marshmallows, they took both mugs and the popcorn with them to Lux’s room.

Her house was an old Victorian, only slightly renovated to maintain its structural integrity or whatever. Her dad grew up in one like it, so maybe it had meaning or something.

Her room was at the very top. It had flower patterned wallpaper in a baby blue color and a large reading nook by the window. The ceiling ended in a peak like a dollhouse. There was a big fancy wardrobe along with a matching antique dresser, vanity, and bedframe. Lilac curtains covered in embroidery hung over her bed. She had put tiny fairy lights in them, too, so felt extra dreamy.

The door of her closet, a crawlspace that was too short to be a part of the room and ran along the whole side of the house, was open, but the clothes she had thrown on the floor getting ready today were put away. Sarang must have already gotten to this room.

Codi made a beeline for her bed. He set up her portable desk and put the hot chocolates on top. Lux set the bowl down, too, and grabbed her laptop.

She browsed through YouTube before she found a good video about ghost hunting. She liked those videos, she thought they was funny.

She snuggled up next to Codi as the intro played. They'd already seen this video, but it was a good one, so they would watch it again. Codi didn't like watching them anyways, because he said her house, being so old, was probably haunted, and therefore watching ghost videos would summon the ghosts or something. But he would make an exception for her, he always did.

They made it two minutes in before he broke the silence.

“You want to know about my day? I didn't sleep because I spent the whole night watching North, just to make sure he was really there, and okay. But he slept soundly. At one point Flynn made me take Benadryl so I would pass out. Got like three hours of sleep.”

Lux let him keep talking. She listened to him, while her eyes remained on the screen in front of her. “I was so goddamn worried yesterday- Fuck-” His voice broke in a sob. Lux took his hand. “I thought he was gone. I thought surely he had run away, delirious or confused, and gotten hurt.”

At that moment, the video recounting a murder in whatever haunted mansion they were exploring this time. When the narrator said, “found dead in a ditch,” Codi replied, “Yeah, what they said.”

He laughed, but it sounded sad.

“That fucker was just in the woods. The woods! Can you believe it? For hours, he just walked. Phone was dead, no one was around, just himself and his thoughts— ugh, why didn't he just talk to us. I should've been there— I should've called him Friday night and made sure he took his meds-”

“You can't dwell on the past-” Lux interrupted- “Your practice ended late Friday night, and you were worried about making it on to the regional team this winter, those were important too.”

And it's not just you, we all could have been there for him. I was doing fuck all Friday, I could have just as easily called him same as the rest of us. But we didn't.”

“Is that what made you upset?”

“No,” Lux ate a handful of popcorn. “I know I can only be there for him if he asks for help first, so it's partly on North too for not reaching out. Not that he really could, but-” she sighed, “-we all need so much from each other- Oh, did you see that? I think I saw a shadow on the screen. Can't believe I haven't noticed that before. Hold on, I'm gonna replay it.”

She clicked some buttons on the laptop and was thrilled when her observation was right. Codi sat there quietly, perhaps contemplating.

Then, suddenly, he chuckled. “Yeah, you're right. North can maybe take care of himself. You know what he was doing when we got there?”

“Hmm? What?”

“He was at some small pizza joint talking to this guy that works there, they were the only people in the restaurant. They must have hit it off because the guy asked North for his discord— he's so much older too. Must already be in college.”

“Ooh, North’s getting bitches.”

Codi chuckled again, “Yeah.” His cheer dropped. “I'm not mad at that.”

“You seem a little mad.”

He scowled. “No I'm not, North can talk to anyone he wants, even if it's hotter older men. I don't care.”

“Sounds like you do care a little, honey.”

“Not at all, dear.” Codi emphasized the pet name and Lux rolled her eyes. ‘Honey’ had just slipped out, they were so used to calling each other pet names ironically it didn't even register in her brain.

After some silence, Codi asked, “Is North hot?”

“I didn't get him a modeling gig for nothing. The industry eats up looks like that.”

“No, but is he attractive? Does he look older? It's probably the height, right?”

“Shouldn't you be asking yourself that?”

“Well of course I think he's pretty. He's also pretty stupid sometimes. And dense.”

“Not as much as you.”

“I'm hurt,” Codi pretended to be wounded, placing a hand over his heart and dramatically fainting into Lux’s lap.

“Why do you beautiful women vex me so?”

Lux pushed him off, “You're blocking the screen. I like this part.”

Codi huffed and sat up. He buried his head in the crook of Lux’s neck. “I don't like this, it's scary.” He mumbled.

“Grow a pair,” Lux huffed. Still, she turned it off and found the documentary they had started a few nights ago. Codi relaxed. Maybe he had been scared.

“You're gonna tell me why you're upset?” He mumbled into her neck.

Lux twitched. “It's always the same. I love my friends and I can never seem to get enough of them. It's pretty selfish. But it makes my stomach toss and turn into knots. I don't know why, I'm just on edge.”

“Mmm..” He patted her head. The consoltation felt stupid and somehow his idiocy made her feel better.

“Hey! Don't fall asleep, I'm not restarting the video if you miss it.”

He huffed, “Three hours of sleep, remember?” He stretched out across her pillows and closed his eyes. “Watch it without me, I don't mind.”

“Well then I'm putting back on the ghost video.”

Absently, she reached out for his hand, and he took it.

The rain outside continued to drizzle, while the video droned on. She took a sip of hot chocolate and finished the popcorn while listening to Codi's breathing. Slowly, it evened out. Although he'd fallen asleep, she didn't feel alone.

[derelictlovefool]

Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 4k

read on ao3

It was like seeing a ghost.

Those brown eyes had matured, his gentle jawline squared out just a bit. It had taken Jacob a second to realise who he was looking at, his hair was longer and he looked like a grown man in his uniform instead of the fuzzy visions of the little kid Jacob had barely held onto all these years. It was Dean, right down to the button nose and expressive face that gave way to every miniscule feeling that coursed through him.

It was a shock to the system, having that painfully familiar pleading look shot at him with a mix of confusion and helplessness. He looked like a lost puppy when he put those cuffs on Joseph, freshly kicked and limping out of those heavy wooden doors with his tail between his legs. John cursed under his breath as soon as the three men and their brother were out of sight, agitation clear in his tone.

"If that Marshal calls that a legitimate reading of your rights he is about to have a very rude awakening." He ground out shortly, stepping off the stage and digging his radio out of his jacket. Faith glanced over at Jacob, catching his eye and smiling serenely as if the situation at hand was nothing to worry about. Her eyes crinkled with her smile and it looked like she was in on a joke Jacob had missed.

"What now?" She asked and Jacob let out a small grunt, turning his gaze back to John as he raved into his radio at his chosen. They had plenty of plans on what to do in case of an arrest but the air felt off, the world unbalanced. Jacob couldn't find his footing, still shaken by the blast from the past he thought he'd never see again. The ruckus outside grew louder just as he thought of what to possibly say, the three heralds froze at the sound of gunfire. Jacob couldn't say he was surprised by the quick escalation, if anything he was glad.

Everything had grown stagnant and he'd been wondering if this prophecy of Joseph's was ever going to come to fruition. Maybe this would kick start things, get it into action. Finally.

Ironic how Dean was at the lead of it all, he really had a way of falling neck deep into trouble no matter where he went—Even now.

Jacob walked out the church, John and Faith hot on his heels and John quickly overtaking him. They watched the helicopter lift into the air, bodies of their project members falling from the steel beast like leaves on an autumn day. Jacob could just see Dean and Joseph, his brother calm and the junior deputy visibly panicked. He never did too well under pressure. If Jacob recalled he didn't particularly like great heights either, despite always climbing to the highest branches on any tree they raced up.

His arm could still feel the ghostly grip of the brunette as he swore he wasn't scared and that he just didn't want him to fall.

He'd always been a bad liar.

"Fuck!" John shouted as the chopper started plummeting to the ground, racing away and barking orders at all the nearby followers. Faith clasped her hands in front of her and pressed her lips together in a straight line, humming disdainfully as she too stepped away. Jacob had no time to deal with either of them, pushing into action himself and making his way to his truck. He hopped in and flipped down the visor, catching the keys as they fell. Once the engine came to life he put the truck in drive and sped down the road.

Once at the final bend to the entrance of the compound he went off-road, narrowly missing the compacting trees and eventually screeching to a halt when he could no longer fit through. The smoke in the sky led him to his destination, the sight he was met with being the helicopter's remains slowly being engulfed by flames and his brother climbing out of it and into the awaiting arms of his flock. Jacob slowed, eyes zoned in on the chopper as he heard Joseph start a small speech. 

He didn't listen, he was too preoccupied. Once by the car Joseph was standing on he could clearly see Dean, hanging upside down and messing with his seat belt. Something had been stirring in Jacob, from the moment Dean had walked through those doors following behind Whitehorse like an anxious chihuahua. He put it down to anger. Anger at what? He couldn't quite tell. But looking at Dean, who looked like he had barely changed over the years, still soft around the edges and so… Weak… It made him fucking furious.

And he got the feeling, once Dean locked eyes with him, that it came across loud and clear.

For a split second the anger fizzled, seeing the flash of fear in those chocolate brown eyes knocked him out of sync with everything else. He'd seen Dean scared plenty, but it had never been because of him. He shook it off, there weren't many people not scared of him nowadays. Dean hadn't met Jacob Seed; war veteran now herald of Eden's Gate. And just like everyone else he was going to regret that he had, he was on enemy lines and he'd made himself a target. 

"Begin the reaping!"

And he was going to be Jacob's target and his alone.

Jacob stepped back, turning to help his brother off of the rusted car as their followers flocked to the helicopter. Joseph grabbed onto his forearm and the back of his neck, pulling him in closer with an unreadable look in his eyes as soon as they were on equal footing.

"It's him, Jacob." Joseph's tone is haunting, the one he remembered from the first time he spoke to him about The Voice. Once again the words he uttered gave him pause.

What?

"Take him to your gate, put him through his trials... He'll need you to show him the way, show him how to be strong so he may help us when the Collapse comes." Joseph mutters with no further explanation, Jacob can only nod. He'd gotten this far by trusting his brother's word and now would be no different. If Joseph said they needed him, they needed him. Dean could handle his trials, deep down Jacob knew he could. They were cut from the same cloth after all, he just hadn't gone through what Jacob had. Hadn't been through his own test. Once he had, once he was stronger, maybe looking at him wouldn't make Jacob bristle like a wolf met with a pathetic excuse for a rival.

Joseph gave his neck a firm squeeze before letting him go, turning to greet the newly captured deputies and sheriff who glared up at him with grime-covered faces.

Fire burst into the air, sending their members flying away from the chopper. Jacob watched as the Marshal fled the plane, with Dean emerging soon after. He could have stopped him there but he decided to let him run. He'd catch him, like he always did—Except this time it wouldn't end in a playful tussle on the ground.

Dean's body ached, everywhere hurt. His skin was damp and his clothes stuck to him, his slowly returning senses told him he was drenched and freezing. Luckily there was no breeze to make the low temperature of his body any more painful. He blinked open his eyes experimentally, groaning and letting his head roll forward as he shut them again. His movements were sluggish and as he pushed himself forward he felt his wrists get caught on something.

His eyes blearily opened again and he was met with the sight of a zip tie biting into his wrists. Confusion flooded him as he tried to gather his thoughts, where was he? How did he get here? Why was he restrained to a shitty cot in some kind of fucking basement—

He paused at the sight of an older man, clad in camo and fidgeting with what looked like a radio. Dean let out a ragged breath as he shifted into an upright position, yanking on the zip tie and alerting the stranger to his waking. Dean tried to wrack his brain for memories of the last hour or so as the voice from the radio crackled around the room.

He'd been in the truck with the Marshal, the Peggies had chased them all the way to a bridge and then…

Dean felt like he had to puke again, memories of his lungs filling up with water seizing his body and making him curl in on himself. He swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes shut, he'd always had a fear of drowning. Or at least, he developed it after a few boys had held him under the water for longer than comfortable at the local pool. He shivered, the memory mixing in with the new one and clogging up his throat. He was glad he wasn't dead but he wasn't sure if his current position was better or worse.

"D'ya know what that means?"

Dean looked up at his supposed saviour as he spoke, walking over to him and dragging a metal chair over to take a seat in front of him. Dean blinked at him, face blank as he glanced between him and the radio he'd been listening to. He gave the smallest shake of his head and the stranger scoffed quietly, readjusting in his seat. He looked like a veteran. A very patriotic one if the flag on the wall behind him had anything to say about it. Not surprising—There was a surplus of proud Americans in Hope County.

"Means the roads have all been closed, means the phone lines have been cut—It means there's no signals getting in or out of this Valley." The man explained, expression sour as he adjusted in his chair, the metal creaking under his weight as he shook his head. Dean's gaze fell to his faded boots, twisting his wrists experimentally as he listened. How the hell did they get all of that done so fast? Surely he hadn't been unconscious for that fucking long. 

"But mostly it means we're all fucked."

Ha.

Well, yeah, Dean could have told him that.

This whole situation was fucked. From the second Dean heard the word cult he should have split. Hightailed it outta there before any roots had time to dig into his soles. But he felt like he had been building something here, a life maybe. Fucked if he knew anymore, all of that seemed so far away right now.

"They've been waiting for this damn—'Collapse'. For years, waiting for someone to come and fulfil their prophecy and kick off their goddamn Holy War…" He paused, staring Dean down with something akin to blame in his eyes, "Well kid you sure as shit kicked." He grunted. Dean frowned. He was far more unimpressed than the gruff vet in front of him right now. This wasn't his fault, how the fuck could this guy try to pin this all on him? He was just doing his job, his stupid job he was seriously regretting ever taking right now. 

He really should have just gone to art school.

Or maybe he should have just gone home, where his older siblings were no doubt cosy in their beds right now. The thought was bittersweet and it made his shoulders tense, fuck he'd forgotten to call them last night. Of course the one time he forgot the phone lines got cut, what great luck he had. At least they were nowhere near this shitfest, that was one solace he had.

"The smartest thing for me to do right now would be to just hand you over." The stranger continued and Dean's eyes snapped back to him, mouth falling open as if to ask him if he was serious. Hand him over? What kind of person would consider handing over one of their last standing deputies to the cultists terrorising their County? The same guy who would save him from drowning only to tie him to the frame of a bed he guessed. Dean's bewildered expression isn't lost on him however and he leaned back with a short exhale and a sharp 'fuck' muttered under his breath.

He turned away from Dean, looking off to the side as he seemed to mull over his options. While he did that Dean weighed his own. Surely he could take this guy if need be, he'd been working out with Hudson every week and she really kept him on his toes. He was in the best shape he'd ever been, if he had to take this guy out to save himself… He told himself would. He couldn't just lie down and accept getting handed over like dirty money under a table.

Dean jumped as the stranger stood suddenly, reaching back and pulling out a small knife. At that moment Dean felt like a cornered animal and his instinct told him to kick his legs out from under him and go for the nearest vital organ with his teeth—but he didn't. He had already killed someone today and he didn't really want to add to that body count just because he was feeling skittish. Two hands reached down between them and in a quick motion the plastic of the zip tie snapped apart and fell to the ground in quick succession.

He stood back up and Dean's arms stayed hovering in front of him, staring up at him with a thousand questions swimming in his eyes. What was the catch here?

"Get outta that uniform, we need to burn it."

"What?" Dean finally spoke, voice raspy and throat tight as he hesitantly rubbed his sore wrists. It hurt to push the syllables out and it hurt his neck to follow the man's gesturing hand as he pointed to the small closet beside the bed.

"The cult's gonna be lookin' for a deputy—There are some fresh clothes there, when you get changed, you come and see me." He explained curtly, stepping back and nodding down at him sternly. It reminded Dean of when a teacher would scold him during detention, the same gruff tone and sharp gaze making him feel small.

"Okay." Dean muttered, complacent enough to go along with this for a moment. Once he got out of here he would be out for good and he wouldn't be coming back. As appreciative as he was for the 'hospitality' he didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him. And he wasn't doing himself any favours with the hostile attitude.

"Good. We'll see if we can, un-fuck this situation." The stranger drawled out, turning and walking out and leaving Dean staring after him with ruffled feathers. He did not want to help with any damn situation. He didn't want to be in this situation. But, he was… And he guessed all he could do right now was get dressed. 

One step at a time. Just take it one step at a time.

He stood, grabbing onto the metal frame of the bed as his legs shook, almost giving out. His body was exhausted from the stress it had been put under and he drew in a deep breath as he willed his limbs to hold on just a bit longer. He wasn't out of the woods yet, just a little bit longer. He could figure out his game plan when he was out of here.

Dean shuffled to the closet, rummaging through the clothes and grabbing out whatever looked like it would warm him up the fastest. He shrugged off his uniform, getting into the casual jean, t-shirt and leather jacket combo as quick as he could manage. He bundled up his dirty uniform, pausing as his thumb nudged against his badge. He tugged it from the shirt, holding it in front of his face and inspecting it.

He'd felt somewhat happy when got it, it was like a welcome to the family kind of thing. Something that tied him to the people he shared a majority of his days with now. But now it was scuffed and dull, a sore reminder he couldn't pull off one arrest. Even worse, he'd already done the opposite of serve and protect. A pain-filled face flashed across his vision as he once again recalled the life he'd taken all too fast and all too carelessly. He put the badge back onto the dark green shirt, setting the messy bundle onto the bed and stepping back.

He remembered the first time he'd splayed the uniform across his bed, freshly ironed and unworn. He'd picked every piece of lint off of it, nervous about making a good first impression. He'd had nothing to worry about, Sheriff Whitehorse had patted his back and led him through the department with a warm hand on his shoulder. Nancy had greeted him warmly at the front desk—Fucking Nancy—Dean's jaw tensed and then relaxed. She'd get whatever was coming to her, no need to lose his mind over her betrayal right now.

Another deep breath.

He remembered Joey and Lola welcoming him with smiles, the thought of the blonde brought on a wave of warmth before it was followed with a frightening chill. What had happened to Lola? Fuck. Had they gone after her too? Dean walked out of the small room with an increasing panic, he had to get to the Jail, she'd been there last time he heard—Getting ready for Joseph to be detained until they could get proper transport out of the County. What if Nancy… No, she may have been a traitor but Dean couldn't see her committing any violence herself.

That didn't mean she couldn't open the gates for the wolves to march inside however.

He could hear the other man as he entered a narrow hallway, speaking into a radio and calling out names he didn't recognize.

"Can anyone hear me, this is Dutch, over."

Dean followed the voice, spotting the man he now knew was Dutch, hunched over another radio with a mic. Dean didn't really understand how radios like that worked but he guessed if phone lines were down they would be too. He stayed by the door, casting his gaze over the room and taking everything in. From what he could see here and from a quick glance back down the hall he was in fact, not in a basement but a bunker. This guy had to be a doomsday prepper or something—something Dean had only ever seen on TV.

It was weird now, how reasonable it felt to have one. Up against a cult Dean would definitely want to have a bunker to hide away in, but glancing over the large map on the wall and the pictures of the family in charge of this mess he knew he wouldn't be getting such a pleasure. His eyes stilled over the photo of Jacob for a moment longer than the others and he felt almost ashamed, turning his attention back to Dutch as he kept uselessly calling out names over the radio.

Dean cleared his throat and stepped further into the room, stuffing his hands into the pocket of the jacket a size too big for him. Dutch turned and sized him up, nodding at the new attire and turning to fully face him.

"Good you found somethin'... Look, didn't introduce myself properly back there. Most people call me Dutch." His tone is less aggressive than before and Dean spotted a smidge of remorse in his eyes. A sliver of bashfulness as he crossed his arms over his chest in that guarded way so many vets had the habit of doing. Maybe he wasn't a total unforgivable rude asshole then, just socially inept and stressed. Dean could relate to that.

"Dean," He offers his name back with a small nod, keeping his hands secure in his pockets. He never liked handshakes, they always felt like something adults made him do to show how well he was trained when he was younger. They were always messy and he never had a firm enough grip, he hated the fumbling feeling and spiral it left him in for minutes afterwards. Luckily Dutch didn't seem to want to initiate one either. It was for the best.

"Right well, I'd say nice it's to meet you but…" Dutch trailed off with a shrug and Dean gave a sigh of understanding, "I've been tryin' to work out what's goin' on up top and frankly, it's nothin' good." He carried on while shaking his head and Dean nodded slowly. He figured that much as well, he couldn't imagine something called 'the reaping' would be very fun. He may have expunged most of the religious knowledge drilled into him as a kid but he remembered enough to know a reaping of any kind was not going to be a fun picnic.

"From what I can tell your partners are alive, for now. Sounds like they got split up between the Heralds," Dutch motions to the map with the photos strung up and Dean barely glanced at it before dropping his gaze back to the floor. He wondered who got carded off to Jacob. He wondered if it would have been him had he not been lucky enough to get away. He mulled over the thought, his mind blanking on what that could possibly mean. He couldn't picture Jacob hurting him, but he'd seen him break plenty of noses and twist plenty of arms to the point of dislocation. He could only imagine that hadn't left him all these years, that willingness to leave his mark.

What were they going to do with his colleagues then? It had to be something to show the civilians there was no hope left, strip them down so they put up no fight for whatever Joseph had planned next.

Dean hoped it wouldn't be the gruesome hypothetical his mind assaulted him with.

"I'm sorry—What. What does that even mean?" He asked after a moment through a short, humourless laugh. All of this was surreal. And his list of unanswered questions just kept getting longer.

"It means they got your friend's, kid, and I get if you wanna go help 'em, I do. I got friends that have been taken too, problem for us is there ain't no help comin'." Dutch ranted passionately, waving a hand in a circular motion to gesture around the two of them. What a fucking optimist he was stuck with huh? Dean stepped back and turned to the map, feeling his irritation bite at his tongue. He didn't want to snap at the guy, now wasn't the time as much as this whole thing was getting to him. 

If this was meant to be a motivational call to action though he fucking sucked at it.

It just made Dean want to crawl into the bed he'd been tied to and turn to mould under the scratchy blanket.

"Listen, there's an equal amount of us as there are of them. I know there are folks out there willin' to fight they just gotta have someone point them in the right direction." Dutch stepped closer to Dean and he took a step back instinctively, furrowing his brows and shaking his head lightly as the words settled on him.

"Why are you telling me that?" He asked as if he didn't know the answer. He knew exactly what Dutch was getting at, he just didn't want to think about it. Dutch didn't seem to miss that much to his dismay.

"You vowed to serve and protect the people when you put that uniform on didn't ya? So this is how you fuckin' do it. You put together a resistance and you take those fuckers down." Dutch stands firm, pointing an almost accusing finger at Dean. That sounded fucking stupid. Build a resistance and fight the cult? This wasn't a movie, that would never work. He didn't say so out loud, worried about the reaction he'd get from shooting down the idea so harshly. But he had to know it sounds nuts, right?

The fire in the older man's eyes convinced him for a moment he really believed they could do it. Dean sure as shit didn't. He was a shitty leader, he could coordinate maybe three people at a time but it was more a case of doing his own thing and expecting them to follow and not waiting to see if they did. Last time he checked that wasn't a valid way to lead a whole group of people—especially not in a civil war type scenario but maybe desperate times called for… An unqualified junior deputy to become a pseudo resistance leader? Fuck, no, it just kept sounding stupider.

"We gotta take control of this island kid, get us some breathing room. Then we can figure out what to do from there." Dutch's tone softened but the fire in his eyes didn't die down. He really thought he could do this. But what the hell did he know? He didn't know Dean for shit, didn't even know his name until a few minutes ago. If he was putting all his chips on him he was in for a bad roll of the dice. Dean stayed put as Dutch walked over to a small safe, opening it up and grabbing the contents of it in quick movements.

In seconds a map and a gun were shoved into both of Dean's hands.

"You ready?"

No. No he absolutely was not.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

True [Chapter Two] Swan Dive [Bakugou Katsuki]

Warning(s): OCs, nostalgia, reunions, Katsuki being Katsuki, sadness, aged-up characters, memories, post-breakup, heartbreak.

No Minors Allowed!!

From the nearest international airport, Airi took the United Airlines to Chicago, then flew to Haneda. The final leg of her journey took her from Chitose in Hokkaido to Shizuoka on the All Nippon Airways (ANA). She arrived in Musutafu on Friday morning, nearly 2 days after she left Falmore in America. Tired was an understatement.

Kaito Usui, her father, then picked her up from the airport. He was a meek man in his early 50s with unkempt hair that made him appear feral despite his passive demeanor. His eyes were tired, but he looked no less happy to see her. Airi tried to insist that she would rent a room while she was in Japan, for him to drop her off at the nearest, cheapest hotel, but he refused to let her; there was no reason she could not retake her old bedroom, he claimed. She was in no position to argue. 

Part of the reason she wanted to stay in a hotel was because she did not want to mooch off her parents, the other reason was because even though she had come home for a reunion, she still had work to do. Akinori Chibana pulled some strings with the higher-ups of 'Synergos', giving her a week. There were no clear orders as to what she would be doing, but Airi was told to keep her phone close.

She put the matter aside for the time being and stared nostalgically out the passenger side window at the quiet, charming neighborhood as Kaito pulled into the driveway of a two-bedroom single-family home. It looked the same as when she left, with its stained white exterior siding that was in desperate need of a power wash. The garden was still there, alive with hydrangeas and tulips, and so too was the hemlock that grew beside her bedroom window; the same hemlock she used to sneak in and out when she was a teenager. Leaving the car, she took a deep breath, then stretched her sore back.

"Home sweet home, right kiddo," Kaito stated.

Airi smiled widely. It certainly was. She retrieved her suitcase from the trunk, then followed her father inside, humming as the silence of the house permeated her ears.

"Is Mom awake?"

"She didn't tell you?" Kaito asked, raising a curious brow. "She got a temp job at the bank."

No, she certainly did not tell her. While Airi was glad that her mother was again healthy, she wished that she would take it easy. Mao Usui was bedridden from the time Airi was in Junior High to the time she graduated from the Hero Course. It was not a serious illness, but due to years of Quirk drawbacks, she suffered terrible headaches that made it hard for her to function. When Airi joined 'Synergos' the severeness of her mother's headaches fortunately lessened, and her days of bedrest were over.

"So long as she doesn't exert herself," Airi uttered. 

Kaito smiled. "How happy she would be to hear that." He paused, removed his shoes at the door, then ambled into the kitchen. "Do you want something to eat?"

Airi followed suit.  

“I ate between the flights. I honestly might just rest for a while. Izuku and I are meeting after he gets off work. I promised to help him decorate the event hall where the reunion is taking place.” 

“Busy day,” Kaito pointed out. 

He had no idea. 

“You know where your room is,” he added. “Mao left you a change of sheets on the bed.” 

Patting her on the head, Kaito Usui wandered into the living room. For a moment, Airi felt nostalgic; she felt like a teenager again, standing in the kitchen with her father - in his early 40s at the time - as he listened to her whine about boy troubles. That was the least of her problems back then. 

She sighed in regret, then toted her suitcase upstairs. Her room, ironically, was just as she left it. Most of her belongings, the ones she did not take with her to America, were packed in boxes in the closet, but the bones were still there; the twin-sized bed, the dresser, and the writing desk in front of the window. Memories came flooding back to her, both happy and sad. 

Airi quickly prepared the bed, tossed a warm floral comforter over the matching sheets, and then laid out her suitcase. Even if she was just home for a week, her mother would scold her if she did not at least put away her clothes. She paired them, put her underclothes in the dresser, and then opened her closet. Before she left home, she stacked the boxes haphazardly inside, a fact she had forgotten until a loose box tumbled out at her. The contents spilled onto the floor, making her jump, then groan protest. 

“What a warm welcome.”

Reluctantly she bent down to gather the contents, coming upon the realization that the box had been used to store knickknacks that had no place among the other boxes. Airi noticed a strip of RC paper, the kind used in photo booths, and turned it over, seeing two individual black and white images; the last was slightly torn as though she had carelessly ripped the next wallet-sized picture off and accidentally damaged it. She had, and she knew exactly why. Each one was of her and Katsuki. 

The afternoon these were taken was the day after the U.S.J. incident. Katsuki took her to the arcade, even though at first, she did not want to go. In the end, she caved, because she realized that the two of them needed some normality after the fight. He did not act fazed, but she knew that the events were weighing on him; they certainly were weighing on her.

The faith she had in herself, as a novice hero, was shattered. Airi considered telling Katsuki he was right; she was not suited to be a hero. The drawback of her Quirk was too much. It almost mimicked the same drawback her mother suffered; severe headaches.

She tightened her jaw, rubbing her sore temples as though the action alone would ease the pain. Something about the vibrant lights from the machines made her eyes sensitive, a fact that she did not disclose to Katsuki as she sent him to get her a cupcake from the nearby kiosk, much to his irritation.

Why was this happening to her? Now of all times. She hardly used her Quirk beyond her ten-minute limit during the fight inside the Downpour Zone. Tokoyami Fumikage put forth the most effort, capturing the most villains. All Airi did was support him, yet she wound up damaged the most by the drawback. It hit hard, especially after the incident when she stood back and watched her classmates come out more firm in their decision to be a hero. But not her. She was scared.

Airi sighed in sadness, feeling tears sting her sore eyes. It was not fair. She knew the dangers; she told herself that this was what she wanted, but nothing could prepare her for what she went through. It was infuriating. Her vision blurred, but quickly so as not to draw attention to herself, she stood and squeezed into a nearby photo booth. With the privacy curtains hiding her from the rest of the arcade, she sobbed, covering her mouth to hold in the noises. 

For a moment, the dark corners of her mind closed in on her, judgemental and suffocating, but then the curtains abruptly slid back and like an electric shock, Airi stiffened and stared in surprise at Bakugou Katsuki as he peered into the booth. In his hand, he held the cupcake. 

“The hell are you doing?” He rasped. His brows knitted in suspicion. 

It was not hard to see that Airi was crying. Her tears gave her away. They did not pour down her cheeks; with her Quirk, the tears floated in front of her face. 

“I um…I–” 

Katsuki growled beneath his breath, then strode in, sitting beside her. The cupcake he shoved into her hands, ignoring her squeak of protest as he dug into his pocket for a handful of Yen. He put 500 worth into the machine, then pressed a vibrant white button near the top of the screen. A countdown soon began. 

“W-why did you–” 

“Just sit back and focus on the damn screen, fuck munch,” Katsuki interjected. 

Her tears fell to the floor with a soft plip as she hurried to make herself more presentable. Airi forced a smile, then the light flashed as the image was taken. She knew she looked terrible, but the sentiment was appreciated. Before the flash went off again, she linked her arm around Katsuki's upper arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. 

The next photo was much the same, with Katsuki looking flushed and Airi smiling mockingly. Then the final, much to her annoyance, was an image of him, pressing the cupcake into her face. The chocolate icing was smeared across her skin while Katsuki grinned in satisfaction. 

She would then later give the final two images to Katsuki. The first two she kept, stored away in the depths of the box until now. An array of emotions washed over her, as she stared down at the young faces forever captured in silent bliss. She missed him; missed the way he subtly made her feel better about herself. Tears blurred her eyes. She shoved the strip back into the box, cleaned up, then laid down for a nap. 

Those days were over. Like it or not, she was not getting them back.

–

Around lunchtime, Airi left the house and traveled into the city. She made sure to text Izuku before she got off the train, heading to their meeting spot, an intersection that sat between their houses. While she waited for him, she bought a bottle of water from a nearby vending machine, quenching her thirst. The heat was almost unbearable, a sign that she had gotten used to the AC in her little Honda. She whined, fanning herself with her hand. Honestly, she considered pouring the water over her head, but before she built up the nerve, someone strode into her eyesight.

Airi smiled widely. Midoriya Izuku stood before her, mid-twenties and somehow still as pure as she remembered, even with the scars on his face and the ones peeking out from beneath the cuffs of his suit. 

“Izuku,” she uttered. 

The urge to hug him was too tempting. Airi stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his back. He returned the hug. 

“It's good to see you again,” He stated. 

Airi agreed with a nod, then stepped back, chuckling as he tried to cover the blush on his face. She looked him over, then raised her hand, gesturing toward him. 

“Look at you, all dressed to impress.”

“I work as a teacher at U.A. now,” Izuku mentioned with a soft smile. He ran a hand through his fluffy green hair. “But I'm more interested in hearing what you've been up to. I saw on the internet some of the work that Synergos has been doing. It's impressive the traction they have gained overseas.”

Airi felt her face heat up. While she was not surprised that Izuku was looking in on his friends, it felt nice to have him gush over her like he used to with the Pro Heroes from his past. She was glad to see that he had not changed much. 

To humor him, Airi talked briefly about her past few years with Synergos; the rebuild in Falmore, and the job before that, which let her travel to one of the biggest cities in America for charity work. She learned, as they walked, that Izuku and Aizawa Shouta, their former instructor, worked together; the latter semi-retired from being at the front line as a hero. By the time the two were at the event hall in downtown Musutafu, the weather only seemed to get hotter. Airi was relieved to feel the cool air circulating through the building. She hummed, then stood in shock at what she saw. 

The event hall was in the process of being decorated, but already so much had been done to it. Numerous round tables were lining the outside of what Airi assumed - if Ashido Mina had a say so in the way things were decorated - was a dance floor, though currently it was being occupied by fog machines and bags of party favors colored to match U.A. colors; gray and green.

“Woah,” Airi uttered in awe. 

“It's coming along well, isn't it?” Asked a familiar voice. 

Airi turned, widening her eyes. Two of her fellow U.A. alumni stood in the doorway, having wandered in from the humid summer heat.

The first was Yaoyarozu Momo, former vice president. She was taller than Airi remembered with multiple thin strands of silky hair hanging in her face, having fallen loose from her ponytail. Then beside her, being the one to catch Airi's attention, was Kirishima Kairi. As twins, Kairi was the spitting image of Eijirou, though, unlike her brother, she shared no admiration for his hero Crimson Riot and wore her hair natural and long. 

Around her arm was a reusable bag from the nearest convenience store, which she dug through, handing a bottle of water and a granola bar to Izuku, who thanked her softly.

“I'd give you a kiss, Bunny, but I'm all sweaty,” she stated, with a shark-line grin. 

Bunny. Wait! Airi glanced between the two of them in shock. Were they…

They were. Izuku's face was heated, trying to hide behind his arms, which were crossed in front of his face. 

“No one told me,” Airi pouted. 

“I found out a week ago,” Momo admitted. 

Kairi rocked on her heels. They had not told many, though Airi should not be too surprised; the two were rather close in U.A. 

“Sorry,” she apologized. “Everyone was busy, so we kept it to ourselves. Well, and Eijirou.” 

Airi playfully narrowed her eyes. 

“I see how it is. Yaomomo and I will just leave you two cinnamon rolls to your dirty secret.”

Momo nodded in agreement, but Izuku was mortified, steaming like a vegetable. He waved his hands in defense. 

“I-it's not like that.” 

The three laughed at his reaction. 

–

As the afternoon went on, the workload lessened and the event hall transformed into a paradise of sparkling streamers and paper flowers. Airi sat with Momo on the floor, hand-painting a welcome banner to hang above the dance floor for everyone to see. She was in awe of her former classmate. 

Like her, Momo traveled abroad after graduating. Based on her stories, she toured elementary schools, expanding the Hero role; Quirk Counseling, and similar essential roles. It was impressive, even more so when she learned that Uraraka Ochaco spearheaded the operation.

“Italy was a beautiful country,” Momo mentioned fondly. She painted another layer on the ‘L’ in ‘Welcome’. “I hope you get the chance to see it one day.”

Airi too. At the moment, ‘Synergos’ was stationed in America, but there was talk about an expansion. She would love to see every country. Peeking up from her work, she hummed as she did not see Izuku or Kairi in the room. She had not seen them in a while, she noted. 

“Do you know where the love birds went?” 

Momo glanced at her briefly, then returned to her task. 

“Most likely they went to meet with Eijirou. He is supposed to be coming by with supplies.”

Airi hummed. She worked quietly for a while until she heard the entrance door come open. Peeking over her shoulder, she smiled as she noticed the love birds walk in. With them was Kirishima Eijirou looking more untamed than ever. His hair was red; longer and spiker. In one arm he held a large box, having no problem toting it. The other waved at them. 

“Yaomomo…Airi, hey!” 

The two waved back. He brought up a finger as if to say ‘Just a moment’ then held the door open with his foot. Then someone else entered, toting two boxes stacked on top of one another. Airi should have recognized him immediately; his bare scarred arms held her briefly the day she boarded the plane for America. She bristled. 

“Pull your damn weight, hair-for-brains,” Bakugou Katsuki rasped. “I can't carry the entire damn haul myself.” 

“I can get it, Kacchan,” Izuku suggested. 

The blonde shot him a glare. 

“I didn't ask you, Deku.” 

He was just as loud as ever. The only difference Airi noticed was that his hair was styled in an undercut. In addition to the scars on his face - a product of the war - and his pierced ears, he looked more feral. As handsome as he was, she knew there was no way he was popular with the citizens of Musutafu. Outside the class, not many people even knew he had a softer, honorable side.

Then as if he felt her eyes on him, he met her gaze. Airi froze. Her stomach twisted in dread and she considered hiding her face from him, but it was far too late. Despite the others talking, the silence between them was deafening. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest, and then to her shock, he turned away from her.

“Hey, diamond girl!” He shouted, gaining Kairi's attention. 

Airi did not hear what he said to her, but he passed to her the boxes, which she held with ease, and then he turned and walked out of the building. Her heart sank. What did she expect? That he was just going to be pleased to see her? No, she knew it would be this way; she knew it would hurt. And it did. It hurt so much. 

Katsuki was the one who deserved to be upset. Not her. At this moment, Airi wished that she had just ignored Izuku's message.

[griffinssclarke]

Doha 2018 | Ana Padurariu (CAN) wins Silver on Balance Beam

[studiojeon]

troubled outsiders | intro - jjk

| summary | -  how you two end up pining for each other.

warnings: none :) 

content: idol!jungkook x student!oc, friends to lovers (because it’s THE superior trope okurrrt), jungkook is quiet and shy but a social butterfly when needed (and when it comes to oc but you’re not supposed to know that yet), oc is both a badass and a socially akward queen, she has TWO friends and only because one is dating the other (like... same), the Lee Charyeong is her bestie, oc works at bighit and feels like everyone either fears her or hates her, author nim is a crackhead and has no plot planned for this series whatsoever (doesn’t know if she’ll keep this up, we’ll see).

words: 1.93 k

His presence was overwhelming, to say the least. Even if he were surrounded by six hundred other equally handsome men, somehow, to you (and the majority of the female population, at that point) he was as captivating and magnetic as they come. Jeon Jungkook didn't pay no mind to no one, but sure as hell everyone became hyper aware of his existence and essence in time. And that didn’t exclude you.

Yet, as nonchalant and indifferent as the man could be perceived, in reality he was more considerate and friendly than the aura he exuded. You knew this because working in the same company had to teach a thing or two about the people who literally carried said company and the whole industry at some point, still you barely knew four or three people, including your assistant and Jungkook, whom you had met once.

The opportunity of working at the company had come to you out of the blue, quite literally, you were attempting to send one of your assignments in when an email appeared in your notifications during your sailor moon study break. 

HYBE Entertainment

We’re glad to inform you that you’re being recruited for the position of Logistics Manager in one of our sub companies, BIGHIT Entertainment. We’ve thoroughly looked through the CV you’ve submitted and are very interested in your capabilities and what you can contribute to our organization. One of our other managers will gladly meet you on a day you can both agree on. Make sure to answer this email to get more details about your interview.

“Nani!? THE FUCK?” sure as hell that your eyes and cognitive functions were deceiving you (ADHD) you went over the text a little over three times in a row before the message settled in your mind. This was sus. 

Before even considering a reply you made a quick call. “Fucking Lee Chaeryeong” you spat on your end of the line. “You did this, didn’t you?”.

Her silence was more than enough to have you cursing her under your breath. “I don’t know what exactly you’re talking about but it most likely was me. Does it have to do with a sex toy in particular?”

“No” you denied almost monotonously, guessing the pile of boxes in the corner of your room with her names on them was what she referred to. “Does anything come to mind if i mention BIGHIT FUCKING ENTERTAINMENT?”

It was her. All those conversations during the summer about how badly you wanted to work in the entertainment business as marketing staff of some sort had their effect on your friend, who, despite all your excuses and denials, knew you better than you and your mom combined did, and because of this, was sure as hell you were not making a move towards that goal whatsoever. So, being the boss bitch she was, she took matters into her own hands, was what she explained.

You concluded that was the reason you had reached a point in your life where you had more experience than most recently graduated kids in your field, because Chaeryeong had you moving every summer break. You had been the manager of a coffee franchise and convenience store during you junior and senior years, and also figured a way to improve the marketing management strategy of a fucking restaurant while at it. Not to toot your own horn, but you were kind of cool.

Or not. “I hope this job satisfies your workaholic ass for once, I’m running out of ideas”. Chaeryeong spat before hanging up.

Sure as hell it would. 

On friday afternoon, you made your way to the HYBE INSIGHT building and introduced yourself to your recruiters who promised to give you a call at some point. “It went fine” you told Chaeryeong once you were in your car. And it was the truth, however you weren’t so sure if they would actually hire you at some point since well, you were a girl in a male dominated industry and, in your opinion, there were always better people than you. “Wanna go grab coffee?”

“I want to. But, I have practice today. I’m actually on my way there. Please avoid driving through Hongdae today, this shit’s packed.” You sighed and thanked her for the heads up. You missed your friend, badly. You hadn’t seen each other in three weeks, and you didn’t even live so far away from each other (you did, but it had been worse before). You two had very agitated lives to say the least. Chaeryeong was a kpop group member, and well, you were jumping from job to job and getting your phD in Business Management at the same time. It was hard to find moments to spare together during some periods of the year, but you guess the anticipation made your encounters better.

“Talk about anticipation” you slammed your forehead against your desk, taking a breather after such an anxiety packed situation. Short story: you got the job (for some fucking reason). And you had gone through a whole week of expectancy and anguish. Not getting that job would have broken your heart, and ego at the same time. 

You guessed the law of attraction tactics Chaeryeong had taught you had sorted their effect and were what led you to your current position in life.

“Miss _____, your presentation’s ready” your work assistant gave you a comforting pat in the back as she took a seat somewhere next to you. You were nervous, shitless. It was your fifth week at the job, and being the proactive woman you were, you had collected lots of data in order to come up with a resources management plan.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and more than a hundred people sat in front of you, waiting for your speech. Including him, who you’d once bumped into accidentally during one of your data recollections runs inside the building. 

You hated having the need to impress others yet, hence your anxious behaviour. But this was a decisive moment in regards to your validation in your new job and how you’d continue to be perceived during your work stance (no reason to panic at all)… you needed to get it together.

“I think I just pissed off a bunch of old men right now,” you told your assistant right after you got off stage. “I need a bathroom break”. Linh gave you a reassuring smile, one she always had plastered on her face.

“Take as long as you need to. I’ll give you a call once the rest are done”.

The commute to the bathroom was unnecessarily complicated in your opinion. You had spent a little over a month rushing through the hallways of the building and you swore every single day your spatial orientation got a bit more fucked up. There was no way there wasn’t a single bathroom on the floor you were in, that would just be atrocious. “It’s not completed yet” someone said beside you as you stared at the half empty map the company had projected on a wall next to the elevators. “Where do you need to go?” 

Kim Taehyung of all people in the world was talking to your ugly and unworthy ass. Your breath caught in your throat and after staring for at least five seconds your body finally reacted to your orders. “Oh, um… the bathroom. I’ve been looking for it for a good ten minutes” you explained with a nervous laugh.

“Trust me, I get it. I still get lost over here” he smiled gently. “It’s in the hallway in the middle of the next hallway” 

You laughed at his very ambiguous explanation. “Thank you” you bowed your head and made your way to said destination.

It was in the hallway to your left, not your right, and it took you a while to figure out that new piece of information. Once you were staring at yourself in the mirror, you realized that you looked considerably tired and exhausted from all the social interaction you had undergone throughout the day. You were used to the side stares and whispering you’d get whenever you entered a room at that point, but some days you just wished you could get a break from them. After all, it wasn’t your fault you didn’t look Korean at all, and that you also didn’t fit the stereotype of a foreigner.

You got that from your mom, both the non Korean features and social fatigue. But that wasn’t even the problem most of the time, it was your friendly and smart nature which she had also passed onto you. Some would consider it a blessing, but to you it was a burden, like a clear glass that shielded you from introducing yourself into other people’s realities. You had few friends and people to trust, but in your everyday life you had to deal with the pressure of standing out too much and that came with a lot of negative energy from others. You sigh as you spray your favorite fragrance on yourself. You could be feeling like shit, but no one will ever catch you slipping.

But that excluded him apparently. You hadn’t noticed that on the other side of the hallway was the men’s bathroom and the realization hit you as you were calmly getting some tea from the vending machine. “Good afternoon” the man greeted you as he made his way out the hallway, but stopped in his tracks right after he noticed you. “_____! Hi” he smiled at you and you wanted to die, suddenly forgetting what you were ordering in the first place.

“H-hi Jungkook” You smiled back, poorly attempting to put your wallet back into your backpack. 

“Need help there?” he noticed your agitated state and held your bag for you. He smelled just as heavenly as you had expected, somewhat between big dick energy and flowers. Oh, and he also remained as kind and polite as you remembered him.

Seeming as if he wasn’t planning on continuing his path to wherever he was heading to in the first place, he stood quietly by your side, waiting for you to be done with your deal. “How have you been?” you break the ice for him.

Quickly, you grab your tea and start walking back to the auditorium together, unaware of your surroundings or the suspicions that could arise. “Busy, but very good. How have you been? I saw your presentation earlier… I wish I understood half of what you said but you still sounded amazing”.

And you would never admit it out loud, but you were positive you were blushing (and falling in love too - platonically, of course). “Oh god, you think so? I basically told them they’ve been doing things wrong all along so maybe you’re the only one who’s appreciative of my work” you handed him the second can of iced tea you bought without him noticing. You swear his eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. “Payback for the other day” you smile at him.

The first time you two had crossed paths you didn’t look nearly as glamorous as you did now. In fact, you looked incredibly disturbed and in pain, carrying a huge pile of paperwork in your hands. But as soon as sweet Jungkook noticed your state, he offered you a hand and somehow ended up helping through your multiple data collecting trips that afternoon. It was a nice day.

“Anytime” he took the can in his hands with a shy look on his face. “Unless I’m practicing, you know…” you look down at his feet, with huge black boots engulfing them, and you smile due to their contrast with his personality. “Here, i’ll give you my number so you can call me whenever you need to put all those papers back. Hopefully I’ll be around” he added as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Way to get a girl’s number, my god.

[ichigoromi]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 | 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 | 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

I've written several romance Miya twins headcanon, but I think if the twins had a younger sister, it's going to be chaotic and fun. I am going to have fun writing this! I am so excited!

Characters will be aged up!

Enjoy~!

Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu

OVERPROTECTIVE. They are extremely protective over you and would constantly check on you.

Since you were two years younger, the three of you have been inseparable since young, and you three almost resemble triplets.

They were the ones that got you into volleyball, and you moved to Hokkaido for middle school and high school since you were scouted and offered a scholarship too.

Though you guys are apart, your bond is stronger than ever.

When you come back to visit during the holidays, they would bring you out to eat and hang out with their friends.

You played as a libero for your school team and the National Junior team.

They often tease your accent since you have stayed in Hokkaido for quite some time; your Kansai dialect was not as polished as your brothers.

Some of his friends are interested in you, and the twins immediately shut down their idea of dating their precious baby sister.

You got along very well with Suna, which irks the twins a lot since they trust him as a friend but not with their baby sister.

With schoolwork and the long hours of training, you have no time to think about a relationship.

But you and Suna get along really well.

When it was time for the official games, they would call you, and you guys would exchange how the games went.

There was a time that you accidentally injured your ankle in the middle of the finals, and your brothers were watching the live stream, and they immediately leapt out of their seats and ready to fly to Hokkaido.

Luckily it was just a sprain, and you guys won, but your brothers managed to fly to Hokkaido.

Your teammates were fangirling over your brothers, but you slight embarrassed and glad that they are here.

Your coach lets you off earlier since your brothers are here, and you starts crying when you three were alone.

They were caught off guard since you rarely cry.

You were disappointed in yourself that you injured at such a critical moment, and it was the first time you ever got injured in a game.

The twins comforted you by getting you some good food and carry you all the way from the restaurant and back to your school.

They also went to support you at the Nationals, with their old teammates tagging along.

Years passed, you and Atsumu went on to play volleyball professionally, and Osamu opens his own onigiri shop.

The one person that the twins desperately prevented you from getting close became your boyfriend; Suna, definitely has the last laugh.

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe my daughter has been hiding you for so long! I'm so glad that this silly girl finally brought you to meet us!" Your mother warmly welcomed Suna into the Miya house.

Your father and your brothers were behind your mother, giving him the 'stare' while silently judging him.

"I would have brought him earlier if not for my dear brothers. Right, Tsumu nii-san and Samu nii-san?" You glared at them as your mother fawns over Suna.

They look away, and your mother ushers him into the dining room, where she has prepared a spread for all of you since it was rare of you guys to come back home. Suna bought your parents some expensive tea leaves since you mentioned your mother is recently obsessed with tea.

Suna had a lot of fun teasing the twins since they never expect him to make a move on you and succeed.

Your dad was the most serious since you are his baby daughter and treasures you a lot. It would definitely hurt him if your heart got broken, and he would hunt whoever hurts you.

"Suna, are you going to marry my daughter?" You choked on your rice and starts coughing, and Osamu pats your back, and Atsumu gives you water. You and Suna have only been dating for a year now, and marriage is a long way to go.

But that question didn't faze him at all. He calmly took your hands in his and stare straight into your father's eyes.

"Of course, I love her. I'm not saying this to assure you, but I promise that I will marry her when the time is right." He sincerely said, and you heard sniffles then sees Atsumu crying.

You were touched and shocked by his reply but even more surprised at Atsumu's crying.

"Suna! You are the best! You have my approval!" He threw his arms around Suna, and Osamu did the same.

You laughed and squeeze his hand while your brothers bother him.

Though they may be annoying, they are still the best brothers that you will ever have.

Oh yeah, lovely Miya older brothers and boyfriend Suna. Love all of them.

Thank you for reading!

Stay safe and healthy!

With love,

Rosalie🍓

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

*

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

*

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

*

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

*

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

*

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.

[goonlalagoon]

The stars must look on forever || Second Star to the Left

Bell Summers is supposed to be minding three Scouts.

Three months in, Gwendolyn Hartley hasn’t answered a single one of their calls, and all they can think is maybe I already failed. When the comms finally spark to life, they almost fall off of their chair in relief even as they snap accusing protocol down the line because it’s better than saying thank god thank god thank god you’re alive thank god you’re okay to a stranger.

It’s a thought that will repeat.

Read on Ao3

(Spoilers through to end of ep. 10 below)

Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was.

- J.M. Barrie Peter Pan

When they receive the data packet detailing their three assigned scouts, Bell spends the whole night curled up reading through every detail, narrating key details to Gigo. They’ll read it all again in the morning, and again a few weeks later, and again the night before landfall, until they’ve memorised it - the scant personal details, names and pronouns and birthdates, the more detailed medical records (you can’t monitor someone’s physical condition without knowing the baseline, without knowing that Mikail mustn’t eat tomatoes and the schedule for when Hartley has to do regular maintenance on her prosthesis), the dense reports on what’s known of their destination planets. They use up highlighters and scrawl on post it notes.

Strictly, it isn’t Bell’s job to know the first thing about the planets beyond the elevator summary, but they were a scout before they were a minder. The structure of the dossier hasn’t changed a bit, and they absorb it all. They don’t know what they missed, on their failed expedition, but they won’t let it happen again. They can’t.

Priyanka isn’t a surprise; they knew that strings were being pulled specifically to line them up to be the assigned minder for Pri’s mission, because Pri’s uncle knew that if it came down to it Summers would burn every tenuous bridge they’d managed to rebuild to get her off the planet, and damn the consequences. They’re all so, so proud of Pri for getting through training, for being clever enough and strong enough and driven enough to make it, and they’re so worried too. Bell would burn any bridges, of course they would, but not every danger has enough of a time window to drag resources into place.

Mikail on paper seems promising - when his comms unit splutters into life as he’s speeding through the stars, months into the first year of expected isolation, he seems promisingly eccentric. He’s a cheerful rambler to Pri’s quiet snark, chattering about the reading he’s doing and the experiments he ran on the side back in training. They listen, gauge his wellbeing and start the slow work of building up trust, and try to ignore the smile tugging at their lips. This burring curiosity would serve him well, they think in the early days, exploring and studying and mapping out a whole new planet, so long as it didn’t kill him. It was their job to make sure it didn’t, that he remembered to eat and sleep and build proper shelters. That he remembered he couldn’t live off of curiosity and scientific glee alone.

Hartley doesn’t respond at all.

Bell checks all of the reports they can, to see if the signal is disrupted or there’s any suggestion that there’s been a technical issue, but everything shows up as working. They can see readouts of Hartley’s vitals, pulse rate and oxygen levels, so they know she’s alive. Probably. If one thing has gone wrong with the shuttle, who knows what other bizarre glitches may have cropped up.

They tell themselves that everything is fine, that there must just be a wire loose in the radio unit or, much more likely, Hartley has just decided that she doesn’t need a scout-minder and wants to go solo, has decided that Summers is an unnecessary and patronising addition to the mission. They submit false reports on Hartley’s well being, because they have absolutely no issue with lying to their superiors when they know the consequences for revealing that one of their three scouts has gone radio silent before even making landfall.

They talk to Pri and Mikail regularly, review condition reports on all three of them, ping Hartley every day and get no response.

They tell themselves that everything is fine.

  Bell Summers is supposed to be minding three Scouts. 

Three months in Gwendolyn Hartley hasn’t answered a single one of their calls, and all they can think is maybe I already failed. When the comms finally spark to life, they almost fall off of their chair in relief even as they snap accusing protocol down the line because it’s better than saying thank god thank god thank god you’re alive thank god you’re okay to a stranger.

It’s a thought that will repeat.

  Retrieving your scout bot hadn’t been a tradition for Bell’s local program. They wonder if it’s one that other programs have, or if it’s just Hartley’s program, one of the small, unofficial differences that most of the time no-one ever knows about. It’s not like scouts regularly get the chance to compare notes outside of their cohort.

 If they kept to their class promise, Pri and Mikail had been familiar enough with their minder after three months to not inform them of where they were going - neither of them were in the habit of thinking aloud to their bots, either, which would have made it easier to hide that they weren’t strictly following protocol. Gwen was defiantly independent, uncaring of her unexpected monitoring, and Bell wanted to cheer her on and reign her in at the same time.

 They guess most places have a tradition or two, some secret pact amongst scouts who are pointing themselves out to the stars and seeing where they land. Something to tether you, when you set foot on a new planet and know you’re on your own, something that ties you back to the people you left behind. Bell takes a moment to be grateful that their pact hadn’t been quite so risky; instead of venturing out into the unknown before even setting up a shelter, they had sworn to wake up early, ignoring all the schedules and warnings and automated messages prompting them to get their full six hours - find somewhere high and climb up to watch the first sunrise on planet.

 They’d scraped the skin off their palms clambering to their highest point, winced as they cradled the thermos they’d carried up with them and the warmth stung the broken skin. The ground had been damp, seeping through the seat of their trousers, a bite to the air that made their nose run, but they’d done it. They’d pointed Gigo in the right direction to record the sight, this first dawn over a new horizon, the first day of their new life.

 Despite everything that happened, the nightmare things had turned into, the bitter taste on the back of their throat whenever they think back to the way it had gone, it’s a memory that brings a smile to their face even as they scold. It’s a memory that they might not have thought to be precisely worth it, if they’d known at the start what they’d learned by the end, but it’s a memory they cling to all the same.

 They can’t help but be a little glad that there’s some kind of tradition for Gwen, too, even as they worry aloud about structures and protocols and whether Hartley is going to have the shelters up in time.

 The shelters have air filtration built in, have temperature regulation, and are designed to withstand the harshest of conditions. If everything turns to dust, they think the shelters will keep their scouts alive for long enough to find a solution.

  They direct all three of their scouts to build an emergency beacon, the one deviation from the protocols that Bell told themselves at the start that they’d not only permit but encourage - no, insist upon.

 The union had fought so hard for assigned minders, for check ins on alternate days and a reliable source of human contact, citing studies of mental well-being and the importance of support networks, but it all went one way. Bell would call their three charges every other day, talk to them or listen in as they went about their business for the mandated four hours, and review any data packets the scouts copied them into when they were sent out to home office - to monitor for adhesion to proper protocol, for signs of strain, and for their own scientific curiosity. The scouts would answer the call, update them, then be stuck waiting a day and a half for the next call. If there was an emergency, they would have no way to reach out, to ask for help.

 If something happened, Bell wouldn’t know until they tried to call and no-one answered.

 The beacons meant that the scouts could at least ping them, a request for contact that would tell Bell to drop everything and grab their headset. With a few quick instructions, the beacon could be altered - honestly, any of the scouts probably knew enough engineering to figure it out themselves - so that it wasn’t locked to just the one frequency.

 If there was an emergency, if their scouts were let down by all official channels, Bell wanted them to be able to reach out to anyone else who might listen, to have the choice to burn their own bridges for the sake of living. They thought, sometimes, that if it had just been them they wouldn’t have called on the smugglers, but they wouldn’t ask the same of these three scouts; looking through the dossiers, curled into a narrow bunk on a half decrepit station, Bell had already known that they’d beg them to do whatever it took to survive.

 It’s not even that they’re that much younger than Bell - only a few years their junior - but they seem it. They seem so painfully young, practically children for all that they’re in their twenties. Still caught in the excitement of it, lost children pointing themselves at the stars and planning to map it all by hand.

 Bell had been that young, once, before everything - before they spent years alone on a planet, before they were told your lives aren’t worth saving and turned around to save them anyway, before all of the ongoing consequences of that choice drove the knife that much deeper.

  What are you going to do if something goes wrong? snipes scout Hartley, her first day on planet as she’s standing on shaky legs, leaning on Boots because she managed to get bitten by something venomous on her little jaunt into the undergrowth. Listen?

  Bell splutters something back, because they know how useful this can be - someone to talk to, someone to do research when you’re stuck, knowing that someone picked up the phone and heard you out. Knowing that someone out there will notice, if you disappear for good.

 They don’t sleep well, staring at the ceiling over their bunk, thinking. They know it can help - they know they can help, that Hartley would probably be a lot more inclined to listen if she knew that her minder had walked this road themselves - but they can’t hide from the harsh truth.

 If it comes to it, if one of these three scouts finds themselves trapped in an apocalypse, sends up a beacon to say it’s all falling apart and I have no way out - all they can do is listen, and hope it’s enough.

  Priyanka falls ill, and they don’t notice.

 Pri has been important to them for years, but they’ve never been close, exactly. They know each other mostly from stories shared by Pri’s uncle, and there’s a level of familiarty that you don’t get from those kinds of tales, from a few months’ worth of regular check ins. Hartley notices, sees something amiss between the lines of the letters Pri sends her, and she does the only thing she can, flags it to their shared scout-minder - she does the only thing she can and speaks up, hoping that someone will listen.

 Bell wonders, later, once Gwen has been proven terribly right, if maybe this is the first time that Hartley has thought of their presence as anything other than an annoyance. Pri, once she got over the change in expectations, had been glad to have a semi-familiar presence on the line, someone who she could trade family gossip with when she felt like it and had worked out an agreement with for the time when she didn’t want to bother with conversation, and Mikail had been cheerful enough from the start to have someone to talk to about all his ideas and findings, but Hartley had always seemed - resentful, maybe, like having Bell shatter her solitude was unwelcome, for all that she seemed to agree with the union on the practicalities of providing a life line of contact.

 Pri fell ill, and Bell didn’t notice.

 They remind themselves, over and over, that it hadn’t been obvious. Gwen, Mikail and Pri had studied together for years, lived in each other’s pockets as they made the same harsh choice to leave everything they knew behind with no guarantee they’d ever be able to get any of it back. It makes sense that Gwen had seen something Bell didn’t, they know it makes sense, but they can’t keep from going back over every report, replaying every conversation, trying to pick up the hints of a change that they hadn’t seen.

 What else would they miss?

  They lose Mikail to a storm, nothing but static when they try again and again to call. Bell hunches over their monitor in their tiny cubicle, punching buttons with fingers that want to shake, hoping that if they try just once more it will go through. They’d known the risks, all of them, of course they had, but -

 This was what they’d feared most, when they took the job. If a planet collapsed, if it came to it, they had strings they could pull with the smugglers, had learned already where they drew the line. The worst news they’d expected to have to deliver would have been bad news, the settlement office doesn’t care about you at all and won’t cough up any of their copious spare change to save you, but good news I’ve got some friends on their way, so sit tight and keep the line open. But they’d known the statistics for scout missions; they’d known that they’d be stuck on one end of a line through accidents, through unforeseen dangers.

 Bell had wondered, on sleepless nights, what they would do if they called one of their scouts and got nothing in return. They’d thought they would have gotten used to it, what with Hartley turning off all comms for literal months before they finally made contact, but this was different. At least with the shuttles they’d had the readouts, vital signs and tracking, to guess that things were probably okay.

 Mikail was just gone, and they thought about what Gwen had told them, what Mikail had never mentioned directly for all his endless chatter - of all the scouts, of all the planets, they’d sent the one who hated water and despised swimming to a place he couldn’t escape the sea.

 They had never met their scouts, but they had seen them in photos. There hadn’t been pictures included in their briefing information because it wasn’t necessary, but Bell had wanted a mental image of the people they were speaking to, so they’d looked up the relevant records in the system. Pri they’d seen in pictures before, shared by a proud uncle, but Gwen and Mikail had just been names with attached heights and weights until they called up the photos attached to their official IDs.

 It meant they could imagine - Mikail, on his island, frowning at the waves and smiling at his scans. Mikail, caught in the water, washed away in a storm surge - they see it, over and over, whenever they try to sleep.

 The beacon pinging them is so unexpected that they think for a moment they may be dreaming. They’d thought it too late, that everything must have been washed away along with their scout, but here he is reaching out to them. The emergency, against protocol backdoor channel that they’d insisted on was doing its job, and they were so glad. They drop everything, as promised, as planned, and when Mikail’s voice come through their headset they bury their face in their hands, even while they fight to keep their voice even.

 What else had they missed? Pri, poisoned by something in the air that crept into her system and twisted her brain in circles. Mikail had been quietly studying an alien species without mentioning it, had learned enough to make a call that they wish he didn’t feel he had to make.

 They lose Mikail to the sea, after all.

 That he was choosing to dive and keep swimming helped, but they lose him all the same.

  Gwen’s planet lights itself on fire, and all they can do is listen.

 They wonder, somewhere in the midst of the panic they’re fighting not to allow to bleed through into their voice, if this is some kind of punishment. If this is another penalty, some kind of justice, you let your settlers down and now you have to be stuck watching, always watching and never able to do anything useful.

 They’d been stuck listening as Pri struggled to diagnose the changes to her own brain, to the silence on the end of the line when Mikail was swept away, to the quiet certainty of his decisions after that. They’re stuck listening once more as Gwen runs back into the oncoming fire to get their maintenance kit, because if she leaves it behind there’s little enough point surviving anyway.

 They don’t know who they think it’s a punishment from, and they don’t voice the thought because they know it isn’t, really. They do. Bell knows, as well as anyone, that knowing someone is listening even if there’s nothing to be done can mean everything.

 But it seems like so little, one hand clutching the edge of their wobbly desk in their narrow cubicle to ground themselves, pressing their headset closer to their ear like that will somehow help, like being a millimetre closer to the ear-piece can make a difference to Gwen as she tries to outrun a wildfire. It seems like so little, to be able to only promise to pass on any messages that Gwen wants, to swear they won’t stop until they’re delivered, if they’re the last words Gwen ever gets to say.

 It seems like so little, and that’s before they learn the truth, learn that Peter will never read any of the letters.

 Peter has been dead the whole time, and later Bell will think they should have guessed - neither Mikail or Pri had mentioned him much at all, even when Mikail had been listing off who he wished he could talk to about his decision, the limited handful of people who he wanted to be told the truth if it was safe to. Gwen had never shared a single snippet of a letter from Peter, for all she repeated gossip about her sister and stories from her other friends on their own missions, and Bell thinks they should have guessed from that alone rather than assuming it was just too private.

 They hadn’t - they hadn’t thought they knew everything about Hartley, of course they hadn’t, but Gwen narrated her day to Boots and, by extension, Bell whenever they called. They’d thought that Gwen was the one they weren’t missing anything from - no unrecognized illness, no secret alien encounters.

 Just a grief they hadn’t known she was carrying, a loss she was still learning to live with.

 They think maybe they know, now, why Gwen had been so reluctant to have a voice in her ear, that first day, setting out to rescue a scout bot she’d sworn to retrieve. Why it had mattered so much that this was her first achievement, once her boots touched the ground of that alien planet for the first time.

 Gwen’s planet is burning and neither of them know what she’ll have left in the world when it dies down, so Bell does the only thing they can and tries to fill the uncertain silence with a story to hold on to.

  When Amelia lays out gleeful threats, promises of justice, it’s Gwen that Bell calls.

 Their head has been spinning since they hacked into the archives - they’d bought into the conspiracy theory, somehow, half convinced themselves there was a big reason for what had happened, something that would answer all the questions they’d lived with for years. Something that could ease the burden of guilt on their shoulders and caught at the back of their throat.

 Well, they had their answer: a skipped scan. A check they forgot, let slide because they were busy, a protocol they set aside to juggle other things - yet another warning sign they’d missed.

 Gwen insists otherwise, points out the ways they can’t be blamed, the way they wouldn’t blame any of their scouts if positions were changed. Points out that maybe it wasn’t a conspiracy, but there’s still something dodgy going on. There’s still something here - in the way these records are hidden, restricted, when they should be public record.

 If there was nothing here more damning than the record of what Bell missed and the price their settlers paid - it would be a cautionary tale, something held up in class for the overconfident new scouts: here’s why you should stick to protocol, kids, even when it seems pointless. This is why you can’t get complacent, get comfortable, can’t trust that after five years you know everything about your planet and you can relax.

 But it’s hidden, and they refuse to let that stand. They’ve wondered, so often over the years, if being made to do nothing but listen helplessly is the punishment for whatever mistakes they made. They know that’s what their employers think, those in the know about their history, shaking their heads and murmuring about how at least this once-promising scout can put their training to use. Those that can do, do, and those that can’t, teach. Or, as the case may be, listen.

 They listened, and they know that mattered.

 They listened when Hartley raised concerns, pushed for scans and tests to uncover what was ailing Pri, what could be done to save her. They listened to Mikail when he begged to be declared dead, gone, pleaded for them to be the one to break his family’s hearts because he couldn’t stand to be the reason his planet and its people were destroyed. They listened to Gwen while her home burned, talked to her through the panicked flight and the post-adrenaline slump.

 Sometimes all you can do is speak, and hope someone is listening.

  Twenty years for the murder of someone still alive. There’s an irony there, but they’re not sure they appreciate the joke. Less for good behaviour, so they try to curb their tongue, suppress the urge to fix things and instead try to maintain a stoic silence when they want to stand up to anyone who thinks to shove them around.

 After the first time they throw a punch in prison, because someone crosses a line and it’s all too much, because they can’t let it slide and still be them - it occurs to them, bandaging up bruised knuckles and wondering if they tell Gwen about this or try (and probably fail) to hide it, that it doesn’t matter.

 They aren’t here because the people in charge really think they committed murder – no unbiased court could look at assembled an emergency beacon out of spare parts and scout who hated swimming drowned after his entire camp was destroyed in a massive storm and conclude that it was remotely related, let alone intentional: they’re here because when they were told the price of freedom was lying to – lying about - their settlers, denying their dead justice, they said not a chance in hell.

 This isn’t a flawed attempt at justice, this is a punishment.

 They won’t be allowed out early, even if they’re the perfect prisoner. They have to live with this, and if that means getting a few bruises and scraped knuckles - well. They’ve never been afraid of a fight, and they weren’t the best at following the rules even before they realised just how little anyone in power cared.

 Gwen writes to them, and they can’t help checking in - are the crops growing, is her leg holding up, has she done her monthly environment scans (yes, yes, and of course, Bell) - all of the questions they had written out years ago to cover in regular check ins.

 They wonder who has taken over as scout-minder, who’s talking Pri through her newfound challenges as best they can without stepping too much on her fiercely independent toes and trying to figure out the change in cadence that signifies Hartley has switched to talking to Boots rather than whoever is on the line. They wonder if anyone is trying periodically to ping Mikail, hoping against hope that this time he’ll answer, that by some miracle he survived (they wonder if he’s figured out how to get his own messages to Gwen, once he realised that conference calls had always been an option except for bureaucratic limitations)

 They’re checking in, lists of questions and signs to watch out for briefed to them in advance, but they’d ask anyway, even if they’d never been told to ask.

 This stopped being about making sure that the scouts who’d had so much money and time invested into them remained at optimum performance sometime around the first time the call connected and they were taken on a completely out of protocol wander through Gwen’s new home in search of a defunct scout bot and a new horizon.

  They’ve come a long way, since the first long weeks of trying and failing to reach the third of their assigned scouts over the comms, since the first time Gwen picked up the call to discover that instead of an automated message she had a live - and somewhat irate - scout-minder waiting on the other end of the line.

 Bell knows that there’s no point trying to call until the ship is in sight of the planet, that they won’t have the signal or the range to reach Gwen until it’s a matter of hours before they meet face to face. They try anyway, thinking with retrospective fondness of the first three months, calling a number that never picked up no matter how often they tried.

 They wonder what’s going on, on planet.

 This is the first time they’ve been out of contact from Gwen since the first relieved moment when a call went through, when Scout Hartley made landfall and resigned herself to turning the computer and all its notifications back on. Bell thought at the time that being stuck just listening was bad, but they never thought they’d have months with no contact at all, no way of knowing. Everything had seemed fine, and the settlement ship was en route, but they knew how quickly things could deteriorate.

 Then again, Hartley had managed to coordinate a prison break remotely and apparently undetected despite using official comms channels to do it under the settlement offices’ collective noses. She was probably fine and managing to do a lot of impressive and yet wildly off protocol things that would delight and exasperate Bell in equal quantity.

 Honestly, Bell would like to say they’re surprised that this is the kind of woman they fall in love with, but they’re not; they’re years past lying to themselves like that.

 The planet comes into view, and they reach for their headset again. In a matter of hours, it won’t matter - neither of them will be stuck just listening, offering up ideas and research and stories to carry each other through, calling for help and hoping someone pays attention.

 But for now, the comms unit splutters, Gwen’s voice filling the storage bay they’re illicitly camped out in, and Bell presses the headset closer to her ear like that will help them hear more clearly, will make it easier to know for sure that Gwen is really okay, unsuspected and untouched by the fallout.

 I’ll see you on the ground, they promise, a distant star falling to the earth at last, and watch the horizon come into view.

[sleeperswakewriting]

First time smut? Could be both or one inexperienced with a dose of comedy ^^

Summary: Childhood friends to lovers, Levi finally works up the nerve to ask Petra to go to prom with him. After years of pining, they decide to lose their virginity to each other on prom night.

Rated: M

Word Count: 5.4k

Prom outfits based on this!

now playing inevitable by anberlin and I think we're alone now by tiffany

If you told Levi Ackerman that the best night of his life would include loud music, drunk teenagers, and a broken air conditioner, then he would have called you crazy and told you to piss off.

Except, of course, unless you mentioned one small detail.

He would be attending prom with his childhood crush, Petra Ral.

Friends since they were babies, neighbors both raised by single parents, they were the best of friends.

Even if they were polar opposites.

Petra was on the cheerleading team, doing cartwheels and somersaults by the time she could walk and was a social butterfly with a heart of gold.

Levi had exactly five friends, not including Petra—Erwin, Hange, Mike, Eld, and Gunther. He met them when they were in elementary school and his friend group had stayed the same ever since.

Throughout the years, their friendship faced trials and tribulations, mostly due to the fact Levi had been in love with her for as long as he could remember, and Petra was absolutely oblivious to the fact.

So much so, that she would dance around the room while they did homework, clad in booty shorts and a loose t-shirt with no bra on. He knew she saw him as a brother, going as far as to kiss him on the cheek in times when she was feeling particularly affectionate, and allowing him to wrap his arms around her with each heartbreak she faced.

"Levi, why don't you ever date? You could get any girl you want!"

He didn't dare tell her why. Even though Petra would never actually leave him, he enjoyed their affable candor, her free touches, and smugly, their Friday night movie nights, a ritual they had since they were children.

Which was also the point of contention between her and her current boyfriend.

He had a bit of a reputation as being a hard ass, also Petra's silent bodyguard even though she didn't need it, and one guy in particular—Oluo, had the nerve to come between their sacred time.

And Petra being Petra, invited him to their movie night, to Levi's chagrin, but miraculously, Oluo had taken a liking to him and the three had a few more movie nights together.

Eventually, they broke up amicably, with Petra teasing Levi that it was because Oluo had a bigger crush on him than her.

It was their senior year, which meant college applications were rolling out, and for the first time in Levi's life, he faced the reality that he might be alone.

Petra had gotten a full scholarship as a cheerleader, Erwin was going to business school, Hange to a STEM school, which left him...

"Directionless!" His mother called him. "I've worked so hard raising an intelligent young man and you can't pick a school?! Application times are ticking, Levi, you need to choose something—-a major, a school, something!"

He asked Petra what she thought about him going to school across the country, and in her infuriating smile, she patted him on the shoulder and said whatever made him happy.

I want to make you happy, he wanted to say.

The summer of their junior year was filled as it always was; late nights talking around the bonfire, camping, and summer jobs.

Petra had gotten him a gig as a camp counselor, a job he wouldn't have gotten if it weren't for her since he had "the personality of a boar," as Hange aptly put it. But, with her sweet persuasion and way with people, she had convinced the manager that Levi would be a fine addition to the team.

And he could lead the children's soccer league!

As luck would have it, he was pretty good with kids, and they latched on to Levi's stoic personality with glee.

It was a sleep-away camp, and while the girls and boys slept in separate cabins, counselors included, Levi knew Petra had a rule-breaking streak (that she got from him) and snuck out after curfew so they could watch the stars.

"The night sky is easier to see than in our hometown!" She exclaimed, leaning against his shoulder.

There was no way she would be able to hear how fast his heart was beating, how his cheeks were heated from how close she was, but all of that seemed to change when she took his hand in hers.

"This is our last summer like this, isn't it?" She whispered, and he dared to wrap an arm around her, even though it was far from the first time.

"Yeah," he agreed gruffly, not wanting the cruel reminder. Would they stay friends? Would she leave him? Did he fuck up all his chances to be with her?

Erwin and Hange kept telling him to tell her how he feels—they weren't getting any younger, and Levi morosely pointed out that she's dated several people, with none of them like him at all.

Well, there's a reason why none of them worked out, they observed.

Petra leaned in closer, burying her face into his shoulder as she sniffed. "I'm not ready for senior year. So many choices to make. I mean, I'm glad to be more independent, but I like living with my dad, you being right next door, and our friends all being in one place. Everything is going to change."

Levi swallowed, her words like bile in his throat, but choosing to placate her.

"Well, not everything."

She looked at him, eyes watering with hope.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, looking away from her, not being able to tolerate her steady laugh, her playful friendly shove, and an "Oh, you!"

But she did neither of those things, and he looked back cautiously, noticing a different look in her eyes.

Maybe it was the moonlight, but her gaze was tender, her lips puckering in a way that he'd never seen before, and before he knew it, she was leaning in to kiss him.

Levi had his first kiss when he was 13 years old in a game of spin the bottle, with Petra in attendance. She had been making eyes at a boy all night, and in a fit of frustration, he spun the bottle furiously, hoping it would land on her, but instead, on another girl who he was fairly sure had a crush on him.

Petra walloped with the rest of their friends, cheering and loudly goading, and it was over before he could blink twice.

Hange took pity on him later, locking them in a closet for 7 minutes in heaven, but it turned into Petra crying over the boy who wasn't paying attention to her, with him consoling her as best friends do.

She was bliss, her sweet pea body spray engulfing his senses, as he tentatively kissed her back, wondering if this was some delirious dream he was having.

Petra was moaning in a way that he thought was only in fantasy, at night when he dared imagined himself as her boyfriend, and when she pressed her body against his, breasts deliciously folding against his chest, he groaned in return, releasing them from the kiss to catch his breath.

"Petra, what's going on?" He asked, caressing his forehead to hers, begging that this wasn't some mistake.

She kissed his cheek, then his nose, as she giggled, "I love you, Levi. You've always been there for me, I guess what I've been looking for has been here the whole time. You...You feel the same way about me, right?"

Nifa and Nanaba had teased her relentlessly that she was building a harem since, for every guy she dated, Levi was very much a part of her life, even accompanying her on some group dates.

"I don't want him to be lonely!" She argued, putting on her watermelon lipgloss. "You know how he is, all by his lonesome. Everyone knows he's like my brother."

Nanaba laughed, giving her a look, "Well someone better call the cops because brothers shouldn't be looking at you like that. I can't believe you wear this around him," she said, pinching Petra's thigh that cut off just at her ass by her extra-large PJ shirt.

Rolling her eyes, "Please, we've seen each other in diapers. And in cringey Halloween costumes. I think we're past feeling embarrassed."

"Whatever you say," Nanaba said, noticing the pink hue on Petra's cheeks as she talked about him.

Levi thought he would be caught dead before he said I love you to anyone but his mother, and even then, it was given in brief, stilted tones.

But with Petra, he said it as quickly as he could, pulling her in for another kiss, wanting to hold on to her for as long as she would allow him.

His mother was thrilled, always having a feeling that her son harbored feelings for their ginger neighbor, and her father awkwardly patted him on the back.

"Glad it's you, son. I'm tired of all the jocks she brings around," and with a crane of the neck and a stern look, he said, "By the way, Petra, same rules apply, door stays open at all times!"

Petra groaned, stomping up the stairs. "Daddy, it's Levi! We used to listen to music on my boombox when we were 10, remember? We'd keep the door closed so you couldn't hear the CDs we bought from the thrift store."

Her father gave her a cautionary glance to her, then to Levi, who for the first time in his life, felt scared of the serene man.

"Door. Open." Her dad said with a final word, and Petra huffed, dragging Levi into her bedroom as she bemoaned how much she wanted to kiss him, earning a cough from downstairs.

Their relationship was "going steady" as some would call, with it being Levi's first relationship (he hoped his only), and Petra getting used to the idea that he was now her boyfriend.

He got jealous quite often, to the extent where he would hold her hand in the hallway or would walk with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. If he was feeling particularly whipped, he'd hold her books, but he wasn't sure if the snickers from Erwin and Hange were worth it. Not the one for PDA, Petra was surprised when he asked to hold hands, and she was more so endeared at his exuberant affections.

So far, these were the happiest days of Levi's life.

When springtime came around, with the seniors abuzz with the promise of graduation and more importantly, prom, he came to the dreaded realization that Petra was expecting a "promposal," something he had seen throughout his four years of high school but always wrote it off as annoying.

He supposed he didn't think he'd be lucky enough to go with the girl of his dreams.

It started with Nifa, who received a promposal from Gunther in the most saccharine way possible, a candy gram.

Then Nanaba and Mike, the latter coordinating a flash mob with their friends. (Levi didn't dance, but Petra told him all about it and showed them the final video they recorded).

It was a given that Eld and his long-time girlfriend would be going together.

Hange dropped on Levi that she and Erwin were also going as a pair, but it was nothing serious, and decided to go together just so they wouldn't have to deal with the headache of finding an actual date.

Which left Petra, waiting for Levi, and not being the one for grand gestures, he sat himself down to work on a promposal in the only way he knew how to.

Coding a video game.

Petra may be a cheerleader, but she was also a huge nerd thanks to Levi, where they spent most of their childhood playing every video game between his Gamecube, her PS2, and subsequently, their Nintendo DS's, and trading and exchanging games throughout their adolescence.

Their personal favorite was Zelda, with Petra often handing the controller off to him for the harder dungeons, and he knew just what to do when they had their usual Friday night movie, this time at his house.

Cuddled up on the sofa, they were kissing, barely paying attention to the movie as the white of the TV illuminated their bodies. A half-eaten box of pizza was open and cups of soda were on the table in front of them.

It was getting late, and he knew Petra had to be home soon, and he tried to focus on not losing his nerve. Hands at her waist, her plush body against his, he told himself there was nothing to worry about since this was Petra and she chose him when she could have any guy in the school. Eight months of dating should have said so.

Petra seemed to catch his hesitancy as she broke the kiss, but suckled at his lower lip in a way that he adored before she whispered, "Something wrong?"

She knew him so well.

Pulling her in for one more kiss, he reached for the remote to shut the TV off. "I coded a game," he said seriously, wondering if his face gave away his nervousness. "I was wondering if you could try it."

Eyes sparkling, Petra nodded excitedly. "It's been a while since you've made something!"

He ran to get his laptop, already having the file ready while he opened his computer, sliding it in front of her.

"It's, uh, standard WASD to walk, and you can use the numbers to click on objects," he explained as a black screen opened, showcasing a pixelated version of Petra. She held a magic wand with some fire at the end, and she was smiling, wearing her cheerleading outfit.

"Is this me?" She asked, giggling as she went through the dungeon, shooting fire bolts from her wand.

He nodded, staring at the screen in apprehension.

"Not to be a critic, but it's a little easy. Maybe add some mazes so it's not as linear?" She suggested, blasting through a monster.

"Sure, yeah, I'll keep it in mind," he said absently, chewing at his lip as she made it to the final room.

A dragon with a letterman jacket appeared, and Petra easily dodged his fire while she gave more flicks of her wand. The dragon poofed away in a cloud of smoke, revealing a chest, and as she clicked to open it, the chest opening sound from Zelda played, making Petra squeal.

"Oh boy, what am I gonna get?" She asked with an excited clap, and the screen enlarged, a picture of a blue rose and a question in pixelated letters asking,

IT'S DANGEROUS TO GO ALONE. WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME?

YES / NO

Mouth gaping, Petra looked to Levi, who was nearly squirming out of his skin in panic, clasping his hands together firmly.

Petra smiled, moving the cursor over to "YES" and clicked on it, playing the item received sound from Zelda, and confetti popped on the screen.

Crashing into Levi, Petra kissed him, wondering why it took her so long to see that she had been adored her entire life.

"You're so romantic," she sighed, tugging at his hair and running her fingers down his undercut.

Levi wanted to nearly cry from relief but quickly forgot about his distress as Petra flicked her tongue down his earlobe. She whispered she had five minutes until curfew, and it was a good thing they were neighbors so she wouldn't have to hurry home.

---

It's too damn hot, Levi thought to himself, tugging at his cravat that contrasted with his black button-down and white suit. A chain tied the two ends of the jacket together, also accompanied by a white pocket square, and even though he liked his ensemble when his mother first helped him pick it out, it was starting to feel too tight as sweat clung to his skin, the layers of the fabric suffocating him in the mid-spring weather.

Maybe it wasn't the only reason he was hot, he entertained, seeing Petra dance with their friends, dressed in a spaghetti strap orange dress and matching cream ribbon. Around her wrist was a blue rose corsage, the one he gifted her when he picked her up from her house in his mom's beat-up minivan.

She looked radiant, and perhaps what made her even more attractive was the fact that she was dressed for him. He had seen her in dozens of outfits ranging from sweat pants to middle school formals, but tonight, this was just about the two of them.

Blushing, she accepted his flowers and corsage, posing for pictures by the stairwell he used to climb with her, pretending monsters were chasing them.

Wrapping his arms around her had never felt so right as they slow danced, the dim light and rainbow disco ball illuminating their touch starved bodies. Levi Ackerman didn't dance, but for her, he would do anything as long as she was by his side.

Pressing her cheek to his chest, happy she chose only an inch for her heels so he was still taller, she whispered to him, "Are you nervous about tonight?"

Petra had agreed to go as fast or slow as Levi wanted, especially with it being his first relationship, but there was one request she had after he had asked her to prom.

"I want to have sex with you if you're ready," she said after a heated make-out session.

"Here?!" He asked, looking at his childhood bedroom, the same navy walls he had known for 18 years staring back at him.

"No, not here!" She giggled, flopping down onto his body.

"Prom night," she said quietly. "I've been saving myself for someone special and I want it to be you. I've never gone all the way with a guy...."

"Really?" He asked in wonderment, assuming Petra had sex, a thought he kept firmly shut off at the back of his mind.

"It just never felt right before. Until you." Scooting up to meet his lips, he groaned, evidence of his arousal for her apparent from the first time they kissed and then after. Sometimes she palmed his pants, sometimes he took care of himself right after she left, but he never wanted to push too far, or come across as inexperienced to Petra.

"We're both 18, I was thinking we can rent a hotel room. I can tell my dad I'm sleeping at Nifa's. You can say you're at Erwin's."

A million thoughts and images flashed through Levi's mind, but the only thing he could hear was I'm going to have sex.

"Prom night, then," he agreed.

He had stayed up hours the night before reading up on sex, the technical side of things, the intimate parts, and discussing protection with Petra the weeks leading up to it. They agreed on condoms, so he went to the store in the middle of the night to get a box, and stuffed them in the back of his underwear drawer so his mother wouldn't find them.

Before he left for Petra's, his mother embraced him, giving him the speech that he was growing up so fast, how proud she was of him, and that she was so happy he and Petra were dating.

It was then she pulled out a plastic shopping bag of condoms and started putting them in his pockets, both his jacket and pants, and Levi nearly pushed her to the ground, face flaming.

"What the hell, mom?!"

She gave him a stern look. "I know what kids do on prom night, Levi. I just want you and Petra to be careful—Don't make me a grandmother just yet! Look, I got you different sizes and flavors—"

They were not having this conversation, and Levi haphazardly unlocked the front door, barely sliding his shoes on, "Stop. Just stop. We're, uh, we're fine. We have everything we need."

Kuchel breathed a sigh of relief, placing three more condoms into Levi's hand, accompanied by forty dollars. "Good. Just be safe. Tell me if you need anything, and have fun at the hotel," she winked, and Levi gaped at her.

"What?" She asked innocently. "I know you guys are 18. And I might have heard Petra in the grocery store gossiping with her friends."

He facepalmed, groaning. Of course, Petra would be broadcasting losing her virginity.

To you, he reminded himself.

Levi stepped back into the house, kissing his mom swiftly on the cheek, muttering I love you as he took the car keys and drove down the half a block to Petra's house. Kuchel waved as she closed the door, happy her son was finally with Petra.

"A little," he admitted to Petra, back in the present. He kissed the crown of her head, holding her close. "Are you?"

Nodding, she raised her head to look at him, though they were nearly at eye level.

"But I'm happy it's with you."

A more upbeat song began, causing the numerous couples on the dance floor to break away and spin onto the dance floor. Petra let him go, but grasping his hand as she guided them back to their friends, encouraging them all to hold hands.

"To senior year!" They shouted, and as much Levi wanted to say he hated crowds, the sweat, and the lack of personal space, he found himself not caring, savoring the last tendrils of adolescence.

---

Petra was talking nonstop as they drove to the hotel, only 15 minutes away from the prom venue, and while she was usually a chatterbox, she found it was more from nerves than actually having anything significant to say.

Levi had one of their mixtapes in the CD player, burned during their middle school years written in sharpie Levi and Petra's mixtape, volume 5. Stolen songs from the internet, coupled with tracks from both of their iTunes libraries, Petra always marveled at how opposite they could be, and yet shared similar interests.

The songs were so familiar to her that she involuntarily sang along, reminiscing how often she played their shared songs and rolling over in excitement on her bed when she found a track she knew Levi would like.

Levi parked, hand still resting at the clutch as he looked to her with a steady breath. "We're here," he said quietly and Petra nodded sweetly in return.

Both brought two small duffles to change out of their prom clothes, and shuffled into the hotel, checking in, trying not to look like two teenagers about to have sex for the first time, but ultimately failing as Levi's hands shook as he slid the key card in.

Booking the cheapest room they could find that wasn't a motel, there was little space to walk other than the perimeter around the king-sized bed, a TV with a dresser, and a door leading to the bathroom where Petra excused herself to.

Levi switched the lights on, checking for anything unsavory, and dropped his duffel bag to the floor, checking himself in the door mirror.

Should he change? He didn't want to look too casual, not having the faintest idea of what "sexy" pajamas looked like for men, and he awkwardly paced, debating to at least take his jacket off, unhooking the chain to let his lapels break free.

He hung the jacket over the nearby loveseat, then fiddled with his cravat, wondering if he should take that off too since Petra may find it to be a nuisance, and before he could debate with himself any longer, he heard the bathroom door open up, revealing Petra in a pink baby doll outfit.

Blinking at him with doe eyes, she blushed furiously, not meeting his wandering eyes.

She was definitely not wearing that before they got in, so she must have changed, and suddenly, Levi felt very overdressed as his mouth went dry.

Licking his lips, he hurriedly got the "sex stuff" from his bag, throwing the box of condoms onto the nightstand, followed by lube, and Petra started giggling as he undid the condoms from his pockets as well.

"How many times do you think we're going to have sex tonight? 50?" She joked, eyes raking at the varieties.

"My mom insisted," he grumbled, heat creeping up his neck and Petra's eyes widened in embarrassment and fear.

"You told her?!"

"No!" He blurted defensively. "She figured it out. You know how perceptive she is."

Petra hummed in agreement, scooping up the condoms and putting them back into his duffel.

"I think it's safe to say we can just use that box," she said, pointing to the Trojan extra-large, then running her hands down his arms.

Levi shuddered, unsure if he wanted to keep staring at her or rip the lingerie off, but found himself unable to speak as Petra kissed him heatedly, tongue diving in, and placed his hands on her breasts.

"You can touch them, you know," she whispered, and Levi could have come alone from the contact, his hands touching the silken mounds he had fantasized about ever since they hit puberty.

He backed them into the bed, with Petra's back falling against the plush sheets, and she moaned as Levi pressed his weight against her, gently rocking against her body. She reached for his cravat, tugging it off so that it hung around his neck, and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?" she purred, her pearl earrings catching the light in the room.

"Yes, but I can stand to hear it a bit more," he replied, daring himself to touch her legs, each graze of his fingertips like electricity down her spine.

The babydoll deliciously pushed her breasts together as a cute little ribbon sat in between her breasts. The material was nearly opaque, and his mouth watered, thinking of Petra in a thong, despite the number of times he'd seen her in a bathing suit.

"And you look, uh, amazing," he breathed above her.

"Really?" Petra exclaimed in relief. "Nanaba helped me pick it out, said that you're probably more into cute-sexy than sexy-sexy."

Gently sliding the straps down so he could kiss her bare shoulders where her freckles met, he said, "Anything you wear for me is sexy."

"Mmm," Petra sighed as he continued working at her top, finding the ribbon in the back and letting it fall off her arms until she was left in her bare breasts.

Instinctively, she went to cover then, but at Levi's eager and furtive look, she released them, guiding his hands back onto her chest, encouraging him to knead and caress her.

He was clumsy, but in an endearing way, fascinated that he was able to elicit such sounds from her, and when he realized she was only wearing her underwear, and he was wearing too much, he immediately discarded his shirt, then moved to unbuckle his pants.

"Let me help you with that," Petra said, sliding onto her knees to unzip his fly, then eagerly sliding them down his legs as he kicked it off.

"Wow," she breathed at the tent in his boxers, and he had the urge to cover himself as well until Petra reached for him, stroking his length and he moaned loudly.

"Y-you can't do that, I'm gonna come," he coaxed himself to say despite how magnificent it felt.

Blushing, happy she was able to make him feel so much with so little, Petra removed her hand and embraced him as they fell back onto the mattress.

They kissed again, feeling each other's bodies for the first time in this state, hands needy but asking for permission, Levi skimmed the tips of his fingers over Petra's ass, earning a hiss of pleasure.

"I need you," she whined, and unsure of how to proceed, Levi detached himself and grabbed a condom, hands shaking as he undid the wrapper.

"You know how to put it on?" Petra asked out of concern and fascination.

He nodded, slipping it down while pulling the tip. "I've done a test run just to make sure. I, uh, was thinking of you the entire time—-" Fuck, this was not romantic in the slightest, Levi chastised to himself. Petra didn't want to hear how he tested the physics of it, how to avoid using it incorrectly which led to him snapping it against his fingers.

But practice makes perfect, and he felt confident as he hovered above Petra, kissing her neck softly while feeling awkward from the latex between them. She hooked her thumbs over her panties, taking them off, and spread her legs for him, her expression yearning and hopeful.

"I've heard it might hurt," Levi said, breath heady at the sight of her womanhood, a cute ginger patch of curls.

"It's okay. You can't hurt me, it's you," she said gently, resting her hands against his shoulder blades, egging him forward.

Levi placed the tip at her entrance, holding his breath as Petra wriggled beneath him, gasping from the friction and he slid in very slowly, both moaning from the contact.

Petra was slick with arousal, and as he continued to push in, they gasped in time, and Levi had to keep himself from moving too firmly because she felt absolutely wonderful, all warm and tight.

"You okay?" He asked, noticing her wrinkled expression, and Petra gasped, opening one eye.

"Y-yeah, you're just really big. But I feel okay."

Pride swelled within him, kissing her gently as he throbbed with desire, and asked her permission to move.

Lifting her hips, he groaned, pumping into her once, then twice, then on the third—-

"Argh!" He gasped, already coming, not being to restrain himself because that's how good she felt.

Shame washed over him as Petra realized what was happening, and she held him gently as goosebumps danced across his skin.

He immediately removed himself from her, hobbling to the bathroom, and Petra looked worried as she processed what had just happened, but pleased that nothing unsafe occurred.

She squeezed her legs together, disappointment and frustration throbbing between her legs, but Levi reappeared, looking thoroughly abashed as he tucked his underwear back on.

"Petra, I'm so sorry about that. Let me make it up to you—"

And before Petra could protest, he crawled to her on all fours at the base of the bed, and placed his hands on her knees, opening them slightly.

"I read that most girls like this better away," he began, kissing her inner thigh, and Petra rolled her head back, happy he was tending to her, but squeaking as he immediately dove his head between her legs, then licking her core with an unpracticed tongue.

"Eek!" She screeched, kicking him in the chest out of reflex from the surprising sensation.

"Ow!" Levi exclaimed, falling back and looking like a mixture of pissed off and fear.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, inching back to her, and Petra plopped her head against the pillow, laughing hard to herself.

"I should be asking you that, I'm sorry I kicked you," she said, giggling into the popcorn ceiling, then turning to face him. "I think for that, we need to warm up a bit. But...I don't want that tonight. Another time," she added with a hopeful look and Levi smiled sadly, hanging his head.

"I'm shit in bed."

Petra weaved a hand through his hair, realizing how much pressure he was under. "No, you're not, Levi. You were just excited. If anything, it's flattering," she said, an adorable pink blush filling her cheeks.

"We'll get better with time and practice. While we wait for you to reset, I brought something for me. I figured something like this would happen."

She padded to her duffel bag, taking out a pink dildo, and clicked it on. It vibrated, and Levi looked at her with a dumbstruck face as she smirked in response.

"Maybe we'll need all those condoms anyway."

[lovecanbesostrange]

Okay, for the poor people on the Ruby Lucas Harem Discord suffering because of this ask (x) on konako’s tumblr that lead to things (including this fanart x), I have this wild scene out of context.

Mary Margaret was sitting at her desk, updating her chemistry flashcards. Ruby was sitting on her bed cross-legged staring at her laptop screen, waiting for this English essay to write itself.

“Ugh,” Ruby groaned and let herself fall backwards. Out of habit she put her hands to her face, but winced when her fingers touched the band aid over her eyebrow. It’s been five days.

A knock on the door made them both turn. They usually could tell who it was by the exact sound of the knock. Like Charming had one hard knock followed by two quick ones or Mulan knocked four times in a specific rhythm. So whoever this was, was more than unexpected. Ruby drew in a sharp breath. She had heard back from the police yesterday that there would be no criminal charges, but they both knew something else would arise from this.

Mary Margaret looked at her, then turned her chair to fully face the door and Ruby got back up again. “Come in.”

“Hallo. Good, you’re here.”

“Mom!” Mary Margaret was up in a second and gave her mother a hug. “I didn’t know you’d be coming.”

Eva hugged her back, but despite the smile on her face, her voice already made them realize this was not a fun surprise visit. “I didn’t know I would be here today either.” The hug ended and she stepped into the room, her gaze landing on Ruby. “I got some news last night and suddenly I was in my car this morning.”

Mary Margaret glanced at the clock. It was a twelve hours drive with good traffic, so Eva must’ve gotten behind the wheel around 4am.

“Hi…” Ruby busied herself closing her laptop and didn’t look up.

“Honey,” Eva stroked Mary Margaret’s hair, “would you mind giving us the room? I want to talk to Ruby.”

“Sure.” Mary Margaret glanced between the two and then grabbed her things from the desk. “I’m down the hall in the common area.” When she passed Eva she whispered: “Don’t be too harsh on her, please.”

That made Eva smile. Her daughter knew exactly why she was here, but she looked out for her friend. These girls always had each other’s back and knowing they were loyal like that, dragging each other out of trouble, was certainly a good thing.

Eva took the vacant chair and rolled herself over a bit towards Ruby’s bed. “So.”

Ruby slowly looked up. Eva took in the bandaid and she could see a faint red line indicating that her lip must have been busted. Trying to hide one hand with the other was a giveaway that her knuckles were bruised as well. Eva had to breathe slowly. A part of her wanted to grab Ruby by the shoulders and shake the whole story out of her. She wanted to yell about irresponsibilties, the futility of violence and all the consequences physical assault could come with. The bigger part of her wanted to cradle her like the 9 year old she sometimes still saw, who confessed to lying about her home address, as if not having loving parents was her personal failing.

“I was at dinner with friends last night and suddenly got asked if I heard about the ruckus on campus. I was really surprised when I was shown this tiny article about a football player beating up another student. And it took me two phone calls to find out it was you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ruby murmured towards the blanket she was sitting on, playing with the seam of her sweatpants.

“For what?” Eva tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible. She had felt every emotion during the long drive and had played out many versions of this conversation. But sitting in this room she realized none of those would work.

Ruby furrowed her brows and finally looked up. “Beating up that guy, of course?” It was a bit more of a question than a statement. The question had rattled her. There was so much to be sorry for though. The beating, losing her temper at all, making Regina worry that night already, not doing so great in classes lately, clinging to Snow, making her team suffer… oh, wait. “Also for not calling… I guess…”

The board said that her mother, Anita, would be notified of this by mail. That was her home address, her contact, but maybe this was why Eva was here. The Blanchards had always cared, but now she was in college, she wasn’t a kid anymore, she had to do these things by herself. But maybe, just maybe they should have called. “I shouldn’t have put this on Snow alone… she should’ve talked to you…”

“Ruby, no.” Eva got up and sat down on the bed, gesturing Ruby to scoot over next to her. “Sure, I’m disappointed-”

The word stung and Ruby interjected immediately. “I’m sorry. I messed up, but I promise Snow wasn’t even there and I won’t-”

“Stop!” Eva took Ruby’s hands, now seeing the bruises already turning yellow, showing the passage of time already. “I am disappointed you didn’t call. And I’m glad to hear Mary wasn’t involved, but I wanted to know anyway. Because of you. I care about you. And this is serious. I know…” She paused and slowed down, knowing the next thing would hurt, but after all these years, Eva needed to say it out loud. “I know your mom doesn’t take good care of you, I know you feel like she doesn’t care at all and I honestly don’t know if she does. But I do. I am not your mother, but I care.”

The dam broke and Ruby started to cry. Eva took her into her arms and immediately Ruby clung to her. It was weird that Eva had seen the aftermath of Ruby crying quite a few times over the years, but rarely had she shed tears in front of her. Maybe Eva should have made her before, pushed her a little bit towards that to hammer it home that she cared and that she would be there for her. Just the same she had hugged Mary Margaret after break-ups, over bruised knees, bad grades, and other bad news.

“I’m sorry for everything”, Ruby got out between sobs. Her tears stained Eva’s blouse already. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t want to hurt people… I swear I want to be good.”

There was more, but it was hard to decipher it all and Eva let her cry, rubbing circles on her back. Getting the full story would take time, that was for sure. All she could do now was to reassure Ruby. “I know you’re good, you just made a mistake. People make mistakes.”

Eva looked over Ruby’s shoulder and saw her pinboard. A few pictures were on it and she immediately recognized one taken the time she and Leopold had taken the girls to Six Flags. They had ridden all the rollercoasters until they were practically green in the face. It had also been the day she had seen Ruby at her most carefree. There was one photo of Ruby with her Grandmother, a woman Eva had met only once. Anita was nowhere to be found on the wall.

A group shot looked nice. Eva recognized David from the pictures Mary Margaret had sent her, but couldn’t even guess who the others were. It was a bit sad living too far away to meet all these people, because she had made it a point to know Mary Margaret’s friends in school by face and name. Mulan, Belle, August, Robin, Jasmin, Anna, Aurora… so many names. She smiled at the picture in the corner that showed Ruby in her team uniform, helmet in hand. A candid shot, her elbow resting on the shoulder of another girl. Or maybe it was young woman now.

Eva turned a bit to catch a glimpse of Mary Margaret’s pinboard. Cluttered with far more pictures, flyers and notes. They shared a room, they had shared the most parts of their lives for the past 11 years and yet there still was such a noticeable difference.

Ruby started to calm down and when she let go, Eva leaned forward to get tissues out of her bag. “Can you tell me your version of the story now? All I know is that you were provoked and sent a boy to the hospital. The article said something about questionable self-defense.”

“There are no criminal charges,” Ruby said after blowing her nose. “He said something to my friend. Insulted her. And he wouldn’t stop, calling her… the c-word… and when he touched me, I lost it.”

“He was in the hospital,” she prompted.

“For a broken arm.” A pause. “A broken nose.” Ruby looked at Eva again. “He lost a tooth. And has some more bruises than I do. He was on the ground fast…”

Eva put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I have no problem believing you would defend any of your friends like that. But you must have hit him pretty hard.” Ruby nodded, the shame was visible. “Tell me the truth. Has this happened before? Because what I can’t believe is that you would pound someone when he’s already down. Something else is going on and I want to know if that will happen again.”

Ruby pressed her palms against the mattress and slid away a bit. Eva could hear - and even see - her breathing pick up. This was almost all the confirmation she needed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Has it happened before, yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Silence fell.

Eva closed her eyes. This was the thing she had feared. Because either Ruby had lost it very big time and the paper didn’t cover the big scoop behind it. Or something had been going on and she had been blind to it. And she needed to hear this from Ruby herself either way.

“When?”

“Back in high school… it was… at junior prom…”

Eva scrambled her brain. She remembered Mary Margaret having a date and giving her one more motherly talk about safe sex that had left her daughter bright red in the face. She also remembered that date bringing her home even before curfew and that Mary Margaret had been not very talkative that night. She had sworn nothing bad had happened with him and Eva only suspected that they’d had a stupid teen argument. There was nothing too remarkable about that. Had she seen Ruby the next day? She couldn’t recall.

While she was thinking, Ruby went on hesitantly. “This boy Peter had asked me out… from the hockey team… but it… it was all a prank… some of those guys wanted to like… set me up for a joke… and... “ She quickly glanced up and right back down again. “It wasn’t as bad, he had bruises and a swollen eye. Snow was there to stop me and we all agreed to not tell anyone. I apologized to him though. And it all… it was… like now… just more… it wasn’t just Whale being a dick to my friend, it’s… everything is so much sometimes and I explode.”

This was less surprising to hear than Eva cared to admit. “Have you ever hurt somebody with intention?”

Ruby shook her head. Her voice was broken. “One time… but only one time… I shoved Snow… I swear it was only once… I yelled at her and shoved her and the second I had done that… I apologized immediately and I never ever intended to hurt anybody.” She looked at Eva again. “Least of all her. I swear.” For this she held eye contact as long as she could.

Eva reached out touching her hand that was clenched around the edge of the mattress. “Thank you for being honest.”

There were a lot of details Eva wanted to know about, but this had been hard enough on Ruby. And now they had time to figure things out. But she had revealed a bright spot. “No criminal charges, you said?”

Ruby nodded. “The police seem very uninterested. And any civil things… well, I need to worry about what the board decides. My… friend said her family will keep things on the down-low.” She squirmed a bit.

“Who is this friend?”

“Regina Mills.”

“Mills? Oh.” Of all the people to get in a fight for, this was probably the luckiest choice. Although it didn’t sit right with Eva that there might be things going to circumvent what law dictated. But she also knew that worse people got away with far worse behavior and Ruby deserved to have one strike with minimal consequences. Even if this was technically her second. “I have looked up a few therapists in town already. I nee-”

“I’m seeing the campus therapist already. But I blew off a few appointments and I get that I shouldn’t.” Eva looked over at Mary Margaret’s bed at that. “Yes, Snow made me. She went with me the first time even.”

“What else are you girls keeping from me?” That came out more judgmental than she meant to. “I know you’re growing up, but you’re still kids to me. I always thought you knew you can come to me with problems.”

“Sorry.”

Eva scooted closer again and put her arm around Ruby’s shoulder. “Enough with the apologies. I know you’re a good kid. I remember you kept Mary from starting to smoke, so that’s something.”

“You know about that?” Ruby looked at her bewildered.

“I am a mom after all and some things I do pick up. You didn’t like it, because you’re an athlete, right?”

“Yeah, it’s super shitty for your lungs and I told her it was uncool.”

Eva laughed. “Wish that would work on Leo and his cigars. But thanks for that. I know you two look out for each other. But I will have to chew out my daughter for keeping a few too many secrets.” Ruby tensed up a bit. “What? Something else I need to know?”

“No…” She dragged the syllable out, dragging her toes over the floor.

“Ruby, I just said you can tell me. That is all I want from you, the truth. And we can work anything out from there.”

“But… what if…” She crossed her arms in front of chest, bracing herself. “What if… I’m not who you think I am?”

“You’re Ruby Lucas. You’re the best friend of my daughter, almost more like a sister. You worked your butt off to get here and you work hard to be the best version of you. I know you even send some of that money home you make at the gas station. Because you care so much about people you love, like your grandmother. I know you are a good person, even though you keep way too much inside. But we can work on that now.” She gave Ruby a kiss on the head, like she would with Mary Margaret. “What could be so bad about you?”

“I’m… I think… I’m gay.” Ruby breathed out that last word and was one tense muscle in Eva’s half embrace.

Eva looked at the pinboard again. The picture with Ruby smiling while leaning on the other girl. It clicked. On top of everything else, this secret had weighed Ruby down. She sure had enough reasons to be angry at the world already. This wasn’t something Eva had prepared for, so she just brought around her other arm to pull Ruby closer. “I want you to be happy and in love.” Finally she felt Ruby breathe in again.

((I just have to stop myself here. This could go on and on and on and on otherwise. Because I already know Eva is gonna take them out to dinner, insisting on meeting David. She gets a hotel room nearby. Of course Snow offers to let her sleep in the dorm but “Honey, that’s kind, but no. So much no to sleeping in a dorm bed.” And she freshens up a bit and passes a book store, where her eye is caught by a pride display and she gets a bracelet with a tiny rainbow flag, two actually, she wears one and gives the other to Ruby, because well, she doesn’t know exactly what to say, but this will definitely not make her think less of her!! Eva is the silent MVP of the story.))

[writerwrites]

Could I Need You This Much

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After Bucky is left at the alter he asks you, his childhood best friend, to go with him to Rome so the non-refundable honeymoon doesn’t go to waste. Wanting to support him through his breakup you decide to telework and tag along. There’s a little problem: You’ve always been oblivious about your own feelings until you’re head over heels.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Modern!au, wedding day break-up, language, past injury mention, fluffy... chronically fluffy

A/N: *THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE SHOT* This is my submission to the [belated] birthday challenge for @burninmatches​​​​ and I chose to combine two prompts from the challenge for this fic. First, the soulmates trope. Second, the song “Head Over Heels” by Tears For Fears ; The beautiful dividers were made by @whimsicalrogers​​​

Bucky was always a quiet person, but you’d never seen him this quiet. You had just stepped out of the bathroom in your cute little tux and mini-bowtie, arms splayed out wide making jazz hands. The proclaimed ‘tada’ fell silent on your ruby-painted lips the moment you saw his downcast gaze at his phone. “Buck? Hey, talk to me, what’s going on?”

Steve was checking to make sure things were good to go; the irony of that, he thought. You would be the one to find him like this. “She broke it off. No wedding.” Those were the only words the Army veteran could muster as his lungs felt like ice and his mind filled with water.

You fell to your knees in front of him, kicking off your shiny black heels and pulling his phone from his hand to throw it to the side. “So let’s go. Let’s get out of here. Steve will take care of the crowd. We’ll get Nat to handle the vendors, she’s intimidating enough to stop them from asking questions. You don’t need to be here. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. You tell me what to do and consider it done.”

This was what you did with the boys. Steve and Bucky were practically brothers and the three of you were the Musketeers of Brooklyn. You had weaseled into their lives because you had been the talker, the sidekick, the advice giver. Advice...you tried your best with this relationship and though you wouldn’t dare say you told him so, there had been so many bumps along the way. Even sweet Steve had drunkenly said Bucky could do better, about as harsh a judgement as Steve could ever muster. She had drunkenly complained that she hated how close the three of you were, you’d brushed it off. Bucky had been played, taken her back more times than you and Steve could count, and he’d put up with so much to make her happy. ‘At what cost’ was all you could manage to think.

There was a guilt in the pit of your stomach, a little voice in the back of your head, this was your fault. Maybe if you’d spoken up, but there wasn’t time to stay stuck in your own head as Bucky started to pull at his slicked back hair. Grabbing his hands in yours, detangling the mess he made, you pulled him up. “We’re getting out of here, simple as that. If you can’t tell me what to do, I’ll take care of this.”

When his rough hands pulled from yours it felt like he was about to protest, but his hands just went back to his face, blocking you from the sight of fresh tears. It was the first time you’d seen him cry from anything other than infectious laughter. Steve was the emotional one, Bucky was the glue, and you were... trading your heels in for the Chelsea boots you’d worn on your bike ride to the chapel. Grabbing your bag, you shoved in his wallet, phone, anything else that was small and his and put the bag on him. Pulling him to the exit you Gave him your helmet and grabbed Steve’s with little hesitation, a fleeting glance at Bucky’s car covered in hideous ‘just married’ decor. “Just hold on to me. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone bigger than me on the back.”

He didn’t acknowledge you with words, just little tilts of his head, eyes downcast. Even when you started the motorcycle and patted the seat to get on, Bucky marched like a tin soldier to orders. You were grateful for the noise of your bike and the city, and the built in Bluetooth speakers and mic in your helmet so you could call Steve. With a promise to somehow get his helmet back to him and to make up for the shitstorm that he and Nat would have to handle, you hung up and crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and escaped to the one place you knew no one would look for you except possibly Steve, Plumb Beach.

Hand in hand you two walked onto the small beach and you only let go to dig in the bag he still wore for the clothes you’d worn to the chapel to throw them on the sand for the pair of you to have a seat. His eyes searched far and wide, still staying off of you, so to give him some space, you emailed your boss that the three days off next week, your personal time to recover from the partying and subsequent clean up, should just be changed to a full week of telework. With no complaints outside of a joke that you really needed a real vacation, you tucked your phone into your pocket and really looked at Bucky. The sun on his tanned skin, face clean shaven - a rare occurrence, and the lines on his face from years of stress and pain or chronic infectious laughter. As your lips parted to try and weasel the latter out of him, his gentle voice came out in a raspy whisper, “I was looking forward to the trip to Italy. I thought it was going to be a fresh start for us, a new chapter.”

You draped your arm over his shoulder, pulling him close and his chin rested on your shoulder. “Bucky, I know that you know those two things aren’t the same.” Running your fingers through his hair to comfort him like he’d comforted you through your own fair share of breakups, you let out a sigh, “But today it’s okay to let her burn in your lungs and your heart and your head... It’s okay to scream it out or cry. Whatever it takes to not let this moment consume you because you’re going to come out on top. You’re not alone, not for a second.”

When he pulled away you thought he was pulling away for space or going to give some grandiose speech about how you didn’t understand and how he was alone. Instead he was reaching for your hand, pulling you up and, with three squeezes and the corner of his lips you knew what was coming. The quiet countdown, the setting sun, a throwback to junior prom and your ex making out with your nemesis under the bleachers. “One.” You started, eyes on him.

“Two.” His bright blue bloodshot eyes on you.

“Three.” Two pairs of lungs in unison soon empty of air as they let out billowing calls to nowhere.

Two tuxedoed buffoons getting odd looks, Bucky pulling you into his side, and no sound but the waves whispering as you let him process. “Let’s get out of here.”

While you were relieved he was finally stringing along more than a word or two you weren’t sure what he meant. It was the way his eyes seemed to light up like he was having a ‘eureka’ moment. “The last time you looked at me like that you decided we had to take a cross-country road trip before you and Steve left for bootcamp.”

Bucky tugged you back to the bike, “And wasn’t that exactly what we needed?”

Despite your laughter, the knowing that the trip was what you all needed to cope with the gang breaking up, you still recalled how the boys barely made it to the bus on time. Passing him Steve’s helmet with a nod, Bucky pulled it on without shaking hands or hesitation. “Where are we going?”

“My suitcase is in my car. Can you get off work?” You didn’t need to see his expression to know there was a puppy dog look of optimism on his face.

“I actually already did.” As you mounted your bike and Bucky flipped up the visor and you were surprised to see him looking so surprised. “What?” Clearing your throat and flipping your own visor down he got on and you hollered over the engine. “Steve has your keys, too. I’ll tell him to drive it over to you, you can have your suitcase, he can have his helmet. Now where are we going while we wait on him?”

“Yours, knucklehead. You’ve got a bag to pack.”

It wasn’t all that surprising that Steve couldn’t leave on a whim. His job as an art therapist for veterans wasn’t exactly something he put before a social life. As Bucky pulled luggage from the trunk Steve pulled you to the side, “I’m only letting him go on this trip because you’re going. If anything happens I’ll find a way to get there. I’m sorry I...”

Pressing your fingers to his lips you hushed him. “I may not be a therapist, but you two are my best friends. I’m not going to let him lock himself in a bathroom, throw himself off a gondola, or...”

Steve interrupted you with side-holding laughter, “Oh dear, you might need this more than him you uncultured swine. There are no gondolas in Rome.”

“No gondolas in Rome? Well fuck, we better pick a new place to run off to.” Bucky half-smiled as he leaned his head into the door. “We are still putting my non-refundable honeymoon to good use, aren’t we?”

Punching Steve in the arm, you called back at the blonde, “See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya!”

Bucky stayed, talking to Steve for more than a couple of minutes while you flipped through work emails and kept your boss in the loop on the telework situation. All the while, only catching the tone of concern in Steve’s voice, not the words. Before you knew it you were on your way, body scans and bag checks, and with Bucky’s eyes averted you flipped through social media to see if it was safe to let him near his own phone. It wasn’t, at least not yet. It wasn’t just that she had changed her Facebook relationship status or that she deleted the countless pictures chronicling their relationship, it was that she had unfriended every person around Bucky that had put up with her for his own happiness. It made you wonder what happened, but more than that, it made you glad to put an ocean between her and your fists.

The non-stop flight was just shy of nine hours, the ride to the hotel in the heart of the city was another thirty, and as you walked up to the counter to check in Bucky, who managed to restlessly nod off on your shoulder, looked like he was about to collapse. “We’re here to check in, the reservation is under James Barnes.” 

It was obvious that they were processing the English, disrupted from their lunch, “Ah, che bravissimo, the American newlyweds! Evviva gli sposi!”

What felt like nine in the morning on no sleep for you was clearly better than Bucky’s experience. So you nodded, thanked them, and passed over the passport and other items clutched in his hand. Once it was all back in your hands with room keys you pulled him along to the elevator and, once again, he surprised you. “Are you okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you took his hand. “Despite what some people think, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a Mrs. Barnes.” Sticking out your tongue to lighten the mood, you left him in the elevator as you pulled your luggage along, “C’mon Athos!” The childhood nickname seemed to draw him from his thoughts and his long legs quickly caught up to you. “Want me to go in first and chuck any romantic decor?”

“Fuck, I didn’t even think about that.” He swallowed at the cotton in his mouth. “No, it’s fine. Hell, maybe there’s chocolate on the pillows.”

Wiggling your eyebrows you slipped the keycard in and pushed the door open, but just as you were about to say ‘dibs’ you saw the room. Rose petals trailed along the floor and the room had the soft scent of clean cotton and gardenias. Faux candles of an array of heights and sizes flickered on every surface. The bathroom door sat open and the motion sensor light kicked on to brighten up a jacuzzi tub and oversized shower with a bench. The small area to sit in had a door out to the balcony with a postcard worthy view and just as you were about to rush out there you saw the bed- the one massive bed and the welcome basket and flowers in the center of a massive heart of petals. “Cliché, but I think we have the chocolate covered.”

“I’ll take the couch.” He was so quick, so matter of fact about it that it almost threw you for a loop and you nearly agreed.

“We could sleep on this bed with all of this on it and still never brush elbows. Besides, we’ve shared a bed before.”

While all of that was true and you didn’t think much of it as you kicked off your shoes and left your bags by the door, something was twisting in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. The fact was that it had always been you, him, and Steve; even on the impromptu road trip Steve was always there. The boundaries had always been crystal clear and now you both were single, had careers, grown up, and now, after everything, there were secrets. “Are you sure?”

“Yup. Go and shower first, Army boy. If I do there won’t be any hot water left for you.” As soon as he was in the bathroom you pulled out your laptop, checking in with Natasha about the vendors and letting Steve know you had made it safe. With it being so early in the morning you weren’t surprised by the lack of a response and set out to clean up the room, all the while keeping an ear open for Bucky needing you. Just as you were about to check on him, your toiletry bag and a change of clothes tucked under your arm, you shrieked at the door opening in front of you. Your fist instinctively punched straight ahead into his stomach and set him coughing. “Shit! Sorry.” As soon as you put your hand on his damp shoulder you saw the familiar intense scarring that he usually kept hidden under a henley or leather jacket. Your thumb brushed over the remnants of the wound that had discharged him from the military before you took a step back, “Okay Barnes, I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“It’s my ego. You hit me in my ego.” He mocked as he straightened up. “Steve can never know this happened.”

Sticking your tongue out you walked into the bathroom and shut the door, a long slow exhale passing your lips. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath and that might have surprised you if it wasn’t for the flushed look on your face in the mirror. It wasn’t blush- or so you swore.

On the other side of the door, Bucky quickly changed and moved around the room setting a few dozen of the candles back on to turn off the harsher light of the bedroom lamps. His eyes stayed on the bathroom door the entire time while his mouth moved from chewing the inside of his cheek to chewing on his bottom lip. Once he’d finally stopped pacing around the room and decided to take a seat the bathroom door opened and you stepped out in leggings and a long t-shirt. Your eyes were on the floor, hair wrapped in a towel so that it didn’t drip onto your clothes. Bucky’s blue eyes stayed glued on the shirt clinging to the damp skin beneath. “I remember when you stole that shirt.”

“Huh?” Looking down you couldn’t help but snort, “Don’t call me out!”

“You always do that,” The corner of his mouth turned up, in a near smile and it was a relief for both of them to feel the tiniest lightening of the mood, a baby-step to normalcy.

“Do what?” Feigning innocence and flopping onto the bed, you reached for a pillow, causing the old shirt to slink up your curves.

“Buy a present that is actually meant for you and, under dubious circumstances at best, you somehow reclaim that gift.” Once the pillow was under your head, Bucky delicately pulled the shirt down and laid down next to you, rolling onto his side.

“I’m pretty sure I had this shirt first and it’s mine, but I knew you liked it so much that I got you the same one for your birthday.” You looked down at his hand, lingering on your stomach, certain it was just that he needed physical comfort, so you placed yours on top.

“Then at Steve’s twenty-first birthday co-Independence Day party you got so trashed you ruined yours. This is my shirt.”

“James Buchanan Barnes! Are you calling me a liar? Are you trying to steal the shirt off of my back?” You laughed so hard the bed shook and just as you settled down, sides aching, his rough fingertips tickled at the bottom of your soft tummy, right at the hem of your leggings and the shirt. “Even if it was yours, and I’m most certainly not saying it is, it’s molded to my thicc-ness now and  it’ll never fit you again, Army Boy!”

“My whole government name, is it?” He smiled, really smiled, that glowing dopey ear to ear smile that was contagious. It had nearly been twenty-four hours since you’d seen him smile and somehow you were all to aware of an ache in your bones of missing his naturally contagious light. But that wasn’t what caught you off guard, it was the fact that this smile hadn’t been seen in years and the realization was something akin to going through withdrawals.

The choked laugh and the smile that found your own lips was hesitant, reserved, and held between your teeth. Against your better judgement you reached over and brushed your thumb through the lines on his face. “Does it hurt smiling like that after you haven’t in years.”

The words were whispered, Bucky’s sad blue eyes looked up from the threads of the comforter he was picking at and locked dead on you. When your lips parted to apologize, he leaned in close and pressed his lips to your forehead. “New chapter, remember?” Though your breath hitched in your throat, he pulled away from you, “I guess we’ll have to get used to it.”

“I could get used to it.” You half-yawned. “If we take a nap we might be able to reset ourself and waste less time jet lagged.”

“Background noise of tv, music, or--”

“City!” You finished with an excited smile, already sliding off the bed to open the balcony’s door and let in the sounds of Rome. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you and thought little more of it than his own curiosity about what the pair of you were going to miss during your quick snooze. By the time you turned around his eyes were closed and he’d jumbled up all of the blankets and pillows to get comfortable. “Too fluffy?”

“Spend years in the desert and try and sleep with all of that.”

Walking up the massive bed on your hands and knees, your tired body couldn’t be bothered to shove it all over the edge. He watched you attempt at climbing under the blankets, curious about why you weren’t looking up to see where you were going. It left you brushing against Bucky and he pulled you to his chest in one of his classic bear hugs. “Careful or you’ll wish you were back in the desert or did you forget that I’m a human space heater?”

“Nah, you missed my big hugs.” The steady cadence of his pulse was already lulling you to sleep. If that wasn’t enough, he pulled the towel off of your head and ran his fingers through your hair. It was an intoxicating sort of magic, a little trick he’d learned comforting his sisters and maybe when you woke up you’d feel played because you should have been comforting him, but the stars behind your lids drew you to a comfortable sleep.

As the two of you zipped around the city on your matching pistachio colored Vespas, Bucky knew he’d really started a new chapter. He could still perfectly picture the confusion on your face when you shocked him by agreeing to set work aside for a sunset zip to hunt down the best gelato. He couldn’t remember the last time you’d looked at him and not known what he was thinking. It was impossible for him to recall the last time anyone had set work aside to live a little, even with Steve. Though Bucky had chalked it up to ‘growing up’ a larger part of him wondered if you wold have always said yes or if there was a bigger reason you would’ve said no- like his ex. The fact was that the ex never even let you ask. That chapter felt a lot like the words ‘missing you’. This one felt a lot like three.

Somehow in the last two days in Italy, tossing coins in fountains, eating copious amounts of bread at every meal, sipping on proper espresso to counteract jet lag; he hadn’t cried or settled into some desperate need to get over his ex by getting under someone else. Bucky found himself delighting in the little things and he realized it was just because you were. 

Wine tasted better after watching you bring it to you lips with a hum. Its color was the perfect balance of red and purple as it stained your lips. Then, when you slid it across for him to try it was the melodic sound of your laughter and pleading that convinced him to try something new from his staunchly beer and bourbon alcohol repertoire. 

The mere mention of ice cream was no longer summoning the memory of that time Steve started a scrap that he had to end and resulted in you buying the three of them ice creams to cool off in the humid New York summer heat. You’d scolded the both of them so lovingly hard that yours melted entirely over fingers before your first lick. No, it was those fingers now covered in strawberry, sticky-sweet, and the almost inaudible gasp on you lips when Bucky leaned in and licked it off. He swore it was just for a stolen taste, but in the back of his mind he knew it wasn’t.

The laugh that came with the silly gesture, the familiar warmth of it like a hug to him, was more to you. While you swore it because he was being uncharacteristically childish. “I want to say I could get used to this ‘new chapter’ version of you because I love seeing you back to the Bucky that would protect Steve from his own stubbornness and me from my bad... taste, but if you’re going to make me laugh this much all the time... Can a person die of laughter? Is it going to be an oxygen deprivation type of death?” Laughing nervously, glad Steve wasn’t around to read you like a book. The embarrassment truly stemmed from how you loved the feeling of his stubble scratching your skin. Steve would’ve called you on it, that some how, something had just flipped like a switch and you were seeing the history of your friendship in a completely different way. The anxiety was starting to bubble as you question if he did too.

It felt so obvious to you, that the universe was laying the cards out on the table. You both shared silence and sound, space and somehow time- not just time in the sense of being in a new time zone or having shared a lifetime of memories, it was more and as you parked the rental Vespas at the shop and picked up your little bicycles, Bucky pulled you into the biggest hug. You didn’t ask him what it was for or hesitate to hug him back.

The sun was low, the street lamps turned on, and the only barrier between you two were the bikes. Hiding your smile in the curve of Bucky’s neck you could have sworn you heard him groan when you lips brushed the base of his neck at the collar of his t-shirt. “You know where we are?” He asked as he led you around the bike just a little, still holding you until he pulled on your hip to make you look out at the view. A hefty amount of stairs led down deeper into the plaza, flanked by older peach and dusty rose buildings. The architecture was beautiful, but you honestly had been enjoying the company on this trip more than the food and your love of history was always always something you didn’t flaunt. “It’s late and we’ve been dragging each other all over this city since we got here, so I’ll forgive you for not realizing just yet.”

Buzzing with excitement and curiosity he took your hand, lacing his hand in yours and taking you down the stairs a few at a time. “I’ve got little legs!” You laughed, true or not it was always hard to keep up with the soldier’s longer legs. The joke of protest was met with Bucky’s arms scooping you up. You were so tempted to protest, so tempted to tell him that the last thing he needed was to hurt his arm lugging you down some stairs in Rome. Then you saw his smile, the one that reached his eyes and the only thing you could say was, “The stairs! Stop looking at me and look at the stairs, Bucky!”

“I’d never drop you.” He said it so matter of factly and you believed it. “I really want to enjoy this so close your eyes.”

“Demanding.” You chuckled, no longer hiding that you loved it. “Fine... but only since you completely unnecessarily but oh so gallantly walked me down oh so many Roman stairs.”

With a crinkle of your nose you shut your eyes and he set you down  shortly thereafter. You swallowed at the dryness in you mouth when his hands found yours again almost immediately. Bucky’s breath shook in your ear, surely from the effort of lugging you around, you swore, biting into your bottom lip waiting for the cue to open your eyes. But he waited, his hands still holding yours and then enveloping you in a tight hug, his chest pressed to your back, his chin over your shoulder. “Okay, now you can open them.”

You didn’t have to read the placard to know Keat’s home. When Bucky and Steve were away for boot camp you’d written them every day, jokingly telling the boys to not become blockheads and to keep each other safe. While the letters were fairly similar, you knew Steve was already hiding doodles on the envelopes, he had ‘his thing’. So you sent Bucky poetry, Keats being one of your favorites. How you’d forgotten the stairs was beyond you, but you weren’t breathing, your eyes stung with happy tears. This was a bucket list visit and your chin quivered as you recalled the emotions of reading you first poem and the worry about losing the boys forever. You’d made yourself sick worrying Bucky would do something stupid to save Steve.

“Hey, pretty girl, this was supposed to make you smile!” Bucky squeezed you in that hug a little tighter and finally you took a breathe and the few tears dripped down your cheeks. “I thought you loved John Keats.” You could only managed a mildly frantic nod as you tried to collect yourself, a soft smile- one too similar to an apology found your lips. “This is you in celebrity shock?” A nudge to Bucky’s side made him laugh and you let go of his hands so you could spin around and hug him tightly back. “Ahhh there’s the reaction I was hoping for.”

“You never talked about the poems I sent you. I just assumed you didn’t want to tell me I was being lame.” Chewing the inside of your cheek you looked back at the building and then up at his bright blue eyes, which were only on you.

“I loved them. They got me through...” The arm, he didn’t have to say it and you squeezed his side to let him know that. What you hadn’t expected was the quiet man that kept his longer chatting to odd things he’d dug up on science threads on Reddit or political rants to make a confession in the middle of the Piazza di Spagna in words that you both shared years ago:

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—         Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart,         Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task         Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask         Of snow upon the mountains and the moors— No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,         Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,         Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

Was that what did it? Was that the moment you fell head over heals for Bucky Barnes? It felt irrelevant to label the ‘something happened’ moment when, under the stars and in the summer heat you pulled his mouth to yours and kissed him fearlessly. His hands pulled the two of you somehow ever closer and the only compromise to the separation of your soft lips to his was the gasp for air. The dopey smile on his face as he cupped your face gave you the opportunity to use your words. “I’m in love with you, too.”

Bucky’s fingers pressed gently into your soft skin and he pulled your mouth back to his. He didn’t ask when you knew, you didn’t ask him either, and it didn’t matter. His tongue caressed yours and you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tugging on his cloths, his hair, every inch of you pressing into him until you both were breathless messes again. “I’ll bring you back.”

“Promise?” You didn’t know if he meant to Italy or the Keats-Shelley Museum, but you were too distracted by his blown out pupils and how beautiful his lips looked wet and swollen from kissing you. The thought of that action alone was still dizzying.

“Yeah, I promise, but I have one more surprise.” As your eyebrows drew together in confusion his hands pulled away from your face, where they had been resting gently on your neck, brushing your jaw, leaving a sting of heat in their wake. He took your hands in his and he got down on one knee. Your mouth fell open and you picked it up quickly, but your head lulled to the side like a confused puppy as your heart raced so loudly in your chest that you were certain Bucky would feel the vibrations in your fingertips. “Will you marry me? Steve always knew I wanted this. He swore up and down that if I just took five minutes to think about what you meant to me romantically that I would realize every single person I’d been with never compared to the girl who climbed in my sandbox. I wouldn’t have been left at the alter if I would have realized the only person I wanted at my side was the person I wanted at my side in sickness and in health, good times and bad, was always already there. Yes, you and Steve are my best friends, but I should have realized sooner why there were differences between my friendships with the two of you.”

“Everyone saw it but the two of us.” You looked down at Bucky, his hands may not have held a ring, but it was perfect and it was very much the two of you in your own world. “I guess I need to call Steve to come to Rome after all.”

As if he was reading your mind, he knew what you meant, you weren’t leaving this city without marrying him. Pulling out your phone, you tapped the little phone icon and in one swoop Bucky was picking you up and spinning you around, his lips kissing every inch of skin they could find and you laughed breathlessly. Steve answered on the second ring but the pair of you laughing muffled his greeting. You pulled the phone from your face and saw the minutes counting and you hushed Bucky with a smile and gentle little thwack to his peck. “So he told you?” Steve asked, tone anxious.

“Told me what?” Your eyebrows drew together and Bucky set you down, leaning in to listen to the call.

“He told you she called it off because he wanted to marry you.” Bucky swallowed, knowing that Steve was leaving out the key detail that after somehow getting his confiscated phone back he had drunk texted the Bride-not-to-be and told her as much the night before the wedding. “Is it finally happening?”

“Yeah,” You both said in unison, smiling despite the circumstances.

“Well, only if you can get out here. Someone has to give me away and seeing as how he won’t stand there without you and I won’t marry him without your blessing, it’s a bit of a co-dependent situation.” Bucky muffled his laugh, squeezing your hand before kissing your temple. “What do you say, Aramis?”

Steve let out a long sigh, but you could hear his keys jingling like he was already headed for his car. “Far be it from me to delay the inevitable. I’m surprised you two didn’t take care of this before we enlisted. Y’now, speaking of the three musketeers, does the impulsivity of this make him a D’Artagnan?”

Bucky let out a whistle and jokingly pumped his arm in victorious celebration. “You’ve done it now, Steve. Straight to his head.”

“I have to torture you a little for making me live through a couple of decades of angst and oblivion.”

You could practically hear the approving smile, “See you soon, stupid.”

Unceremoniously ending the call, you leapt into Bucky’s arms and picked up kissing him, drizzling in a lifetime’s worth of unsaid I love yous. Through laughing and smiling, fingers tangled in hair and soft curves pressed to the cold stone wall of the museum, you drank in Rome and Bucky. Each kiss was a vow to no longer letting a moment pass you two by.

All Tags: @tom-hlover​​

Bucky Tags: @caplanbuckybarnes​​

[puckyeahobx]

blow all my friendships to sit in hell with you

a/n: WEE WOO WEE WOO RAFE CAMERON WOOBIFICATION INCOMING. this is my favorite thing that i have ever written. enjoy (NOT MY GIF)

summary: y/n and rafe are in love at Midsummer’s and then someone (cough topper cough) tries to come around and start trouble. protective!rafe jumps in and it is sexy

warnings: nsfw duh

word count: 4.8k

It’s not that you weren’t excited about going to Midsummer’s. You were, truly. Ever since you had moved to the island, you had looked forward to the party every summer. There was something about getting done up in a pretty dress and whimsical accessories that almost made you forget how much of an outsider you felt amongst the other Kooks. 

You had only moved to Figure Eight about halfway through high school, so by then everyone had already made their cliques. At that point it didn’t matter that your parents had money, no one took notice. It also didn’t help that everything about you proved that you weren’t a preppy douchebag. So, instead of getting wasted out of your mind in someone’s basement, you spent a lot of your time at the beach. Here is where you met the Pogues, and thank God you did because without them, you weren’t really sure where you would have ended up. If it weren’t for running into the boys: JJ, Pope, and John B around the docks, you would have never met Kie. And if you had never met Kie, you would have never met Sarah. And if you had never met Sarah….well, your life would look drastically different, to say the least. 

The Cameron family was somewhat of an Outer Banks institution. Everyone knew them, and depending on which side of the cut you were on, you either loved them or you hated them. Well, you either loved or hated Ward, that is. And even if you didn’t love him, you probably feared him, which was all in the same to him. The Ward kids were a little more controversial from person to person, though. Sarah had a reputation that didn’t really fit the sweet, loyal girl she was, but even with her reputation no one ever really had any reason to dislike her that wasn’t directly related to her father. Wheezie, the youngest, was often forgotten about, but it seemed like she liked it that way. Then there was Rafe. The oldest of the Ward kin, and by far the most contentious. He was like Ward in the way that he was either feared or hated, but unlike Ward, there weren't a lot of people willing to say they loved him.

However, “a lot of people” weren’t you.

You weren’t really sure when you changed teams on the Rafe Cameron front, but you imagine it was at some point in the summer before your junior year when you started hanging out with Sarah regularly. Rafe was older than you, and not around a whole lot, but he was around enough. You saw how he argued with his dad and how drastically different Ward acted around Sarah and how he acted around Rafe. You saw how empty he looked when he wasn’t around Topper or Kelce. The Rafe you saw from your spot on the living room sofa that summer was not the Rafe you had heard the urban legends about. He was preoccupied - it always seemed like he was thinking about what he was going to have to do next to make sure he kept being worthy enough. You try to remind yourself of all of the things you had heard about him, but then he’d help Wheezie with the newest secret project or offer help to Ward at every turn, and what was legend and what was the boy before you became complete opposites. 

It was embarrassing, truly, how smitten you had become with him that summer. You found yourself sticking up for him in conversations with Sarah and Kie, sometimes even with the Pogues who had age-old reasons for hating him. Almost everyone thought you were just being naive, being new to the island and all, but Kie saw right through you. She saw the way you watched him enter and exit rooms, how eager you were to help him with docking the boat. Everywhere he was, you just happened to turn up at. Again, it was a little embarrassing, but there was just something about him that made your feet forget that they had a mind of their own. The word magnetism comes to mind. It took him a couple of months to notice, aka well into your senior year, but eventually he caught on and started playing the game right along with you. You were typically an impatient person, but you’re glad you paid the long game with this one. It’s how you ended up on his arm three Midsummer’s in a row.

So, again. It’s not that you weren’t excited about going to Midsummer’s. Afterall, you were in the prettiest dress you had ever seen (you had flowers in your hair for God’s sake) and your amazing boyfriend on your arm. It was destined to be a good night. Everything was aligned and it was going to be perfect. But, then again, perfect doesn’t usually last long in the Outer Banks. 

You and Rafe had done the rounds to all of the most important club members, per Ward’s request, and you were about to throw a fit if you didn’t leave soon. All you wanted was to go back to one of your guys’ houses and have a night in with some netflix and your sweatpants. You didn’t even care about how damn cliche it was. It was just that exhausting pretending to like 25 consecutive rich white people. But Rafe was not interested. He knew how happy it made Ward that he was there making connections and participating in all of the traditions of Kook life. Regardless of what you felt about Ward and how he treated your boyfriend, you didn’t say anything. If it made Rafe happy, that was all you cared about.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to put up a fight. 

You two were sitting at one of the tables draped in white linen, the fairy lights encircling them being the only sources of light three hours into the party. He was people watching, laughing and talking with people who walk by, his hand on your thigh as a sense of comfort. You were always the one thing that could ground him when he started to fly off the handle like he could still do from time to time. 

“Rafe,” You whispered as you leaned into his neck more so than his ear. You wanted him to feel your breath against the sensitive spot behind his ear. 

He shivered for just a second before he fought it off with a cough, turning to you with a forced smile, “Yes, Y/N?”

You made your best puppy dog face and looked up at him, your chin on his shoulderas you wrapped your arms around his middle, “I want to go home.”

He laughed a little at your dramatics and put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you tighter so he could kiss your forehead. “We’ll leave soon,” he whispered into your hair.

You tried whispering into his neck again, desperate for him to give into temptation. “I want to leave now,” You pressed the gentlest of kisses just below his earlobe, “Please?”

He shifted in his seat and sat up a little straighter, coughing as he pulled away from you enough to get your lips off him. “Just like, 30 more minutes. I don’t want Dad to think I’m ditching.”

It was your turn to pull away as you sat back in your chair and crossed your arms across your chest, fully pouting at his loyalty and devotion to the Cameron institution. You didn’t say anything, instead opting for a loud huff and your nose turning up to the sky, refusing to look at him any longer. 

However, since you were so busy refusing to look up at him you didn’t notice him lean back in closer to you where it was his turn to whisper against your neck and in your ear, “I’ll make it worth the wait, I promise, Baby.”

There was no mistaking the hitch in your breath as you sunk back into your chair and into his chest, a blush creeping all the way from your exposed chest to the tips of your cheek bones. The immediate reactions you had to his voice never failed to amuse him, so you weren’t surprised to hear him laugh in spite of you. At this, you threw a weak punch at his shoulder that only made him laugh harder. 

“Come on, dance with me,” He finished off his laughter as he stood up and held his hand out for you, “Not nearly enough people have seen how smokin’ you look tonight.”

Taking his hand you couldn’t help but smile, but still managing to roll your eyes at the cheesy remark, “I think you paraded me around to everyone at this party about three times over, Rafe.”

He led you over to the makeshift dance floor where it was just you guys and three other couples who all looked to be above the age of 80. His hands on your waist and yours around his neck he smiled down at you with the smile that was reserved just for you, “It will never be enough people.”

“You’re ridiculous, Rafe Cameron,” You leaned up to kiss his smiling lips, never able to resist him for long.

“And you’re beautiful, Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

But before you could finally kiss - something you somehow haven’t done yet and were getting desperate for - you were interrupted by the most obnoxious person you have ever had the displeasure of knowing. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? Lady and the Tramp? Rafe, you’re Lady of course. Haven’t seen your balls in awhile, huh bud?”

You had hated Topper ever since you had first met him, but he had only gotten worse since High School ended and he found out what everyone else had known for years: that he was completely useless. 

Rafe immediately moved so he was standing in front of you slightly, every muscle in his body tensed completely, but neither of you said anything. 

Topper chuckled to himself as he crossed his arms over his puffed-out chest. He had a habit of getting overly confident once he got more than three whiskey’s deep. “Oh so you just have nothing to say, pal? Not enough that she has your balls in a fucking vice grip, she took your tonuge too...what a shame. You always had a way with words.” His smile was as menacing as it could be on a trust fund baby, but it still wasn’t great. 

“Is that all?” Rafe said, sounding surprisingly calm. His muscles and jaw were unyielding, though. His grip on your hand flexed with every word he said as if he was slipping fast and desperate to have something to keep him from falling over that ledge. 

Topper scoffed dramatically, “What? I can’t joke around with my best friend anymore? Or, my former best friend, I guess. Ever since that pogue-slut started sucking your dick you never give your real friends the time of day anymore.”

You flinched at the horrible things he was saying about you, but it was no match to the way Rafe was all but blowing fire out of his nostrils. “If I were you, Top, I’d turn your ass around and leave her the fuck alone.”

“I’m just trying to be there for you, bro. You’re not yourself anymore! This bitch has you completely brainwashed! The Rafe I know would have spit in the face of the pussywhipped cuck you’ve turned out to be.” He paused and then looked over Rafe’s shoulder at you, giving you a quick up and down. “Must be some pretty good pussy if you’re able to turn the King of Kildare county into your personal bitch.”

Rafe’s hand suddenly left yours and he laughed to himself, “You’re a funny guy, Top.”

“No, I'm serious, man. Let me have a piece of that. I’ll decide if she was worth ruining your reputation for.”

Rafe looked down and laughed for a second before looking directly in Topper’s eyes, “Go to fucking hell.”

Before he even got the last word out of his mouth, his iron fist had made impact straight into Topper’s jaw. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just because of the power behind Rafe’s punch, but he was on the ground immediately, muttering gibberish to himself as his mouth flooded with blood. 

“Rafe!” You screamed as you pulled him back just as looked like he was about to go in for another round. 

He fought against your grips to get closer to him, wanting one last word. “You ever talk about me or my girl again and you’ll have a lot more to worry about than a bruised jaw. You got that?”

You didn’t wait for Topper’s response as you started to drag Rafe away towards the front of the house where his Jeep was parked. People were starting to stare and you wanted to get out of there before Ward caught wind of what had happened. 

The half walk/half speed run to the car was a silent one. You didn’t know where to even begin and you could tell Rafe was embarrassed of acting out like that. He hadn’t done anything like that in over a year and he had been so proud of himself for turning over a new leaf for you. 

Once you got into the car you both sighed in relief. It was then finally that he turned to you, his voice trembling just the slightest bit from residual adrenaline and the shame creeping up from the pit of his stomach to the tip of his spine. “Baby, I’m- I’m so sorry. But I, I just couldn’t help it. He was saying such fucked up shit about you. Calling you all of those things and talking about fucking you- I was going to be sick. I had I to do something baby, I’m so fucking sorry-”

He was caught off by the intoxicating crush of your lips against his. You grabbed his face in yours hands and kissed him harder than you had in a long time. It took him almost no time at all to melt into you, grabbing onto your waist as best as he could across the middle console. You were out of breath and positively drunk on each other when you finally pulled away, the most ridiculous smile plastered on your face. When you opened your eyes you saw that same smile mirrored on his perfect face, his eyes hooded as he laughed a little between pants.

“I know I uh, shouldn’t enable violent behavior,” you paused, still trying to catch your breath, “But that was one of the hottest things I have ever seen in my life.”

He swallowed, keeping his eyes locked on yours as his goofy smile turned into a smirk, “I’ll always fight for you, Princess. You know that.” 

You whined just the slightest bit at the pet name before putting on your seatbelt. “Home. Now.” Afraid of what you would do if you looked at that shit eating grin for another second, you looked straight ahead out the windshield. 

“Yes ma’am.” You heard him chuckle as he put the car in drive and head off toward his house, his hand on your leg seemingly inching up higher and higher with every mile traveled. 

By the time you got back to his house, you were about three seconds away from jumping him in the wide open space of the Cameron residence’s driveway, but luckily your boyfriend had a little bit more restraint as he took your hand and directed you to the guest house that he had been living in for the last year and a half (it was all a part of Ward’s idea to give Rafe more responsibility, but all it had really done was give your sex life completely free reign, which you greatly appreciated).

Once you got into the front door, he all but slammed you against the door in order to shut it. “Damn if I had known me throwing punches at losers got you so hot I’d head down to the country club more often,” He whispered against your lips.

You moaned the slightest bit as his lips trailed down to your neck while he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pinning you against the door. “It wasn’t about the punch-” A pause, “Ok it was sort of about the punch. But it was- it was more about you defending my honor or whatever. And you look so fucking sexy when you’re mad.”

His lips found his way back to yours, but first he smiled and whispered again, “I’ll always defend your honor, Baby. You’re my girl.”

And with that, you were back to making out sloppily as he carried you down the hall to his bedroom that, at this point, was pretty much your shared bedroom. He not-so-gently dropped you on the bed before reaching down and yanking his shoes and socks off when he went for his belt and dress pants. Your hand immediately flew up and swatted his away. “Let me do it.”

He groaned and ran his fingers through your hair as he looked down at you undoing his belt, your eyes fixed on his innocently. Once his belt was undone you wasted no time reaching a hand inside and feeling him up just the way he liked. You got up on your knees without removing your hand from its careful ministrations so you could kiss up his neck to his lips, “Thank you for being my knight in shining armor.”

Clearly not able to take much more teasing, he, a little gentler this time, pushed you back against the bed, this time coming with you. Since he was so much taller and broader than you, being underneath him was sometimes overwhelming but in a sexy, intoxicating way that you never got used to. He whispered against your neck, “If this dress isn’t off your body in about three seconds I’m going to fucking scream.”

You pushed him off of you and laughed before sitting up just enough to clumsily slip the dress off your head while he, equally as graceful, flung off his dress pants and shirt. He sat back on his knees for a moment and drank the sight of you in, face flushed, mouth agape, and completely, totally in love with you. “This never gets old. You’re...you’re perfect.”

That familiar blush and pit in your stomach that came with these intimate moments with him snuck up at you as you whispered a “Thank you”, a shy smile playing across your cheeks. 

He returned the smile and leaned back over you, reigniting the fire from before as soon as his lips touched yours. 

His hands were everywhere, everywhere, everywhere as you gasped beneath him with yours gripping his hair like a lifeline. From your chest to your ass he was caressing and stroking you as if you could disappear from him at any moment. When a hand finally reached into your underwear and he realized how turned on you already were he all but growled against your lips, “You’re always so ready for me...you have no idea what you do to me, baby…”

All you could muster up was a whimper as he hooked his fingers around the sides of your underwear and tore them down your legs. Wasting no time, attached his lips to you and started eating you out in the only way he could, which is to say it was perfect. He knew exactly when and where to use his fingers, and when and where to apply pressure with his tongue. It was amazing truly how it came so naturally to him. He was up to two fingers pumping inside of you when he moved his head up your body to kiss you, knowing what you needed to finish. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby? I can feel it, I know you want to,” he whispered against your neck as he sucked and nipped at all of your favorite spots,  “You’re so good for me always, go ahead. I’ll count you down. 5.”

You really could feel it starting to build up, but you wanted to hold back for just the right moment. 

“4.”

Holding back seemed to be getting harder and harder, his fingers angled further up against you and his thumb found its way to the nerve ending that his tongue had to abandon to get to your neck. 

“Such a good girl. 3.”

You were full blown whining and rocking against him, desperate for the feeling only he could bring you. 

“2. Almost there, Princess.”

With a final squeal, you grabbed onto his arm and held it steady as you ground yourself against him, eyes squeezed shut. 

“1.”

Before he had even finished the word, you were there. Your vision was white and your whole body was under the control of something primal and hot. He coaxed you through your orgasm with his fingers and the sweet encouragements falling off his tongue and into your ear.

When you opened your eyes finally you saw him looking down at you positively beaming with pride. Getting you off was his one greatest joy in life, which was good because, come to think of it, it was yours too. 

“Fuck.” Was all you could sigh out as you looked up at him, your chest heaving.

He leaned down to kiss you again and chuckled against your lips, “I was just about to, God. You’re so impatient.”

Not finding him particularly funny at the moment - you had much more pressing things to take care of - you broke the kiss to push his boxers down his legs and grab a hold of him, stroking him a few times before lining him up against where you needed it most. You were just about to slide him in when he pushed your hand away and paused. “You know I love you, right?”

Momentarily breaking out of your primal haze, your body softened against the bed and you reached up to grab his face, “Of course I do, Baby. I love you too.”

Another pause from him where he averted his eyes before speaking again, “I would do anything for you,” he looked back at you, “I mean it. Anything.”

“I know,” you whispered back, trying to show that you understood his urgency. 

“You’re like- You’re seriously the best thing that has ever happened to me so when Top started saying all of that disgusting shit about you and how you ruined my life I just- I just lost it, I guess.”

Your fingers found the back of his neck where you threaded them through his hair, trying to ground him. “You did the right thing, protecting me. He was drunk...who knows would have happened? He deserved it.”

He scoffed and shook his head, agreeing with you. “Yeah he fucking did. When he started talking about fucking you, I could have killed him. He’s lucky all he got was a sucker punch.”

“He’s the worst person on the island, it was about time someone put him in his place. You’re a good man, Rafe Cameron.”

He looked down at you again and smiled ever so slightly, “Yeah?”

Nodding your head and biting your lip to hold back a goofy grin you reassured him further: “The best.”

Closing the gap between you guys once more, he leaned down to capture your lips with that smile still plastered across his cheeks. As soon as your lips touched, though, that goofy mood was gone. He lined himself up against you and slid in slow and steady, making sure you both got to savor this moment. It was no shock that such a tall man would be so well endowed, but you still were never used to how good he felt like this and you were starting to think you never would be. 

You both gasped and moaned when he finally started moving, his head lulling back as he held onto your hips with both of his big hands, pinning you down to the mattress hard (as if you would ever, in a million years go anywhere). 

Another thing you didn’t think you would ever get used to is how into dirty talking he was. The man could go on and on and it made everything that much more powerful. 

“You feel so good, Baby Girl.”

“Yeah, fucking scream, Princess. I want to know how good I’m making you feel.”

“You like it when I fuck you like that, huh? Say it.”

You were always more than willing to indulge his desires considering how hot they made you and much more confident they made him. Rafe was your first and only, but you couldn’t imagine that you were missing out on much. He had to be the best fuck you could ever hope for.

Before long you felt that knot start to loosen in the very base of your stomach, your breath trying desperately to keep up. “Baby, I-I’m-”

He continued to pound into you relentlessly, “Me too, sweetheart. Just hold off for a little longer. I want us to cum together.”

You whimper and grab onto the headboard behind you, trying to ground yourself to something before you lose it completely. 

His thrusts quickly became sloppy and out of rhythm and his thumb once again found your clit, signaling that it was about time for both of you to give in.

“Please,” you begged, barely above a whisper as you strained against the headboard. 

That was enough to do him in and you followed after all but a half second later. Both of you started mumbling all kinds of gibberish about how much you loved the other and how hot that was, but neither of you were really present enough to pay attention. 

Rafe fell on the bed on the other side of you and immediately wrapped you up against him, pulling the covers over the both of you. Your head was resting on his chest and you could hear his heart struggle to regulate itself. 

“What do you think my dad will say?” He whispered sadly after a couple of minutes of running his fingers all along your side as you drew shapes into his chest. 

You lifted your head just enough to look up at his worried face. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Rafe.”

“I embarrassed the whole family because I lost my temper...he’s not going to be happy about that.”

Setting your hands under your chin’s place on his chest, you rolled onto your stomach to look at him longer and harder, “You lost your temper because some drunk psycho was insulting your girlfriend and calling you a pussy-whipped bitch. I’m afraid to know what Ward would do in that situation. He’s probably thinking you were too nice.”

He chuckled slightly, making your whole body move with the laughter in his chest. “Yeah I guess that’s where I get my um….passion from….”

“Hm...I don’t know. I think you cultivated it yourself. You give Ward too much credit, you learned how to be a good, loyal person all on your own.” Confident in your assessment, you turned your head back against him and cuddled up for the night, exhaustion hitting you all at once with a giant yawn.

Rafe paused for a moment before leaning forward and kissing the crown of your head and smoothing your hair, “I think you had a little bit more to do with that than I did.” It was barely more than a whisper, you wondered if you were even meant to hear it. 

Another yawn, “Nah, you already were everything you are now. You just needed someone to give you permission to be it.”

You couldn’t see it, but he was smiling from ear to ear as your words sank into his skin. He was the first one to admit that when he met you, he didn’t deserve you. It was a guilt that had hung over him these past few years. Everything he did was to try and be the type of guy that deserved you, that was right for you. He knew you loved him for who he was then and who he is now, but hearing you say such kind things about the version of himself he hated the most just made the guilt ease up a bit because, hey, if he was good enough for you, then that was all that mattered.

“Goodnight, baby,” you mumbled against his chest as you nuzzled up against him, even though you couldn’t get much closer. 

He sighed with a smile on his sleepy face, “Goodnight, Princess.”

[hotchley]

that’s okay

Oh my god it’s out before midnight!! Are you proud of me?? Once again, it has not been proofread, but that’s fine, this is for fun! Also, the same line where Aaron says he doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore is also where I lost the plot so erm... yeah

Once again: little plot. Not much point. Low-key hate the ending. May have fucked up Hotch’s character. But I had fun writing it so we’re just... yeah we’re going with.

Title comes from That’s Okay by The Hush Sound (would 10/10 recommend), and I have to thank Caitlin ( @themetaphorgirl ) for that one because I was sat there like: I have everything but a title and then I remembered That’s Okay and was like AHA

Trigger Warnings: trauma, trauma responses, child abuse, religion, religious trauma

read on ao3!

When he finishes his speech, he meets Erin's eyes, determined and angry. At her, for pushing him and doubting his abilities in the one place he felt like he could maintain control in. At Jason, for once again putting him in a situation where he has to take the fall and piece things back together. Because he has to play this stupid game of politics. At the team, because it is easy. 

But most of all, he is angry at himself because he shouldn't be angry at them. He shouldn't be angry at Jason or Erin. He shouldn't be angry, because anger means he's creeping closer and closer to the line that separates himself from his father and if he goes too far, he will lose everything and he won't be able to come back. Ever.

"Aaron," she says, and his glare loses its power. She says his name, his first name, like it means something. With a gentleness that he had never felt before Haley softly repeated it to herself, as though she was trying to test out each syllable before she got too close.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "That comment about your son was unfair. I know you love them all equally."

She shakes her head. "Don't apologise. You know I don't enjoy doing this. Undermining you like this. Asking these questions, saying these things. But if we are both going to keep our jobs, then I have to."

At that moment, she is not Strauss. She is Erin, just another victim of bureau politics, trying to keep her head above water. It's what causes Aaron to reply, instead of just walking out.

"I know," he says. "I know."

"Why don't you ever let Jason take the fall for his mistakes? I'm not an idiot, I know these things aren't your doing. He's a grown man. He can accept the consequences that come with acting the way he does. You don't need to take them."

She doesn't understand. He does. He needs to take them because taking punishment is the only way he can atone for the multitude of sins he commits every single day. He needs to take the blame because he is the only one that can come back from it. The only one that can be replaced with ease. 

He needs to take the blame because it reminds him that this, just like everything he has been stripped of in his life- his childhood, his ability to love, his warmth, his innocence, his faith in both something else and humanity- this can and will be taken from him the moment he puts a foot wrong.

The Bureau, much like the small town in Virginia that he will never refer to as home because he never once felt safe, not even when Haley held him with gentle and unblemished hands, does not show anyone mercy. Least of all those that dare to speak out against injustice.

"I do. Jason Gideon is nothing without the BAU. I can't take that from him," he says. 

He hates to be vulnerable with her, but she is the only one left that he truly trusts. That remembers the boy he was when he first joined. That knows the lock on his drawer is not because there is alcohol, but because he keeps the file with his incomplete profile of George Foyet in there.

"And you?" she asks.

"And I?" 

"What are you without the BAU?"

And isn't that the question he wishes he knew the answer to? He is not a father, he knows that much. A real father wouldn't have hesitated to transfer after Jason returned. A real father would kiss their son goodnight without feeling guilty and hug them without fear. And he is not a husband. On a technicality, he is, but even he can see that Haley isn't happy. The day where she leaves will be sooner rather than later, and he will be powerless to stop her.

A part of him doesn't want to fight. It will be easier on both of them if she leaves before the inevitable happens. Before the pieces of himself he gives up to do this job become irretrievable. Before he is more than just his father's mirror, he is his father's son. 

Before the job he is nothing without ruins her life beyond repair.

"I don't know," he confesses. In some strange way, he feels like a child again. Being asked by the priest what he thinks his punishment for lying about what really happens in the Hotchner family home should be, even though he wasn't lying. He was never lying. They were all just too afraid to confront the truth.

The same way he was.

"Get some rest. I'll speak to the Director and other higher-ups. You'll have a job to come back to. I promise."

It is an impossible promise, one she may not be able to keep, but her tone is gentle and her words soothe him the way a parents' declarations of love never had, so he simply nods and exits her office. 

He doesn't look at any of the team when he gets back to his office. He doesn't bother to knock on Jason's door to make sure he isn't looking through the Book of the Damned. When Derek calls his name, he speeds up, knowing that out of all of them, he owes him the most answers, but finds himself completely unable to give them.

Haley doesn't know that he is returning. He doesn't have the energy to tell her. As he turns onto their road, he is almost tempted to keep going. Past their house. Past her sister's apartment. Past her parents' house and his father's grave. Past everything that keeps him grounded.

The idea of giving into temptation was something drilled out of him long ago. So he turns into their driveway, wondering what the neighbours will say when one of them inevitably moves out. Will they find it sad, that the young couple they had all hoped would last, had fallen apart? Will they wonder what the final straw was?

Haley is still in her work clothes when he enters the living room. She had already picked Jack up from his daycare on her way back, and her son- as far as he's concerned, he's nothing more than the sperm donor- babbles away happily as he plays with the toys his mother and aunt had picked out for him on their last day out together.

"You're back early," she says, without any malice. 

"Strauss told me to get some rest," he replies. "How are the students?"

She smiles at the mention of her class. "Glad to have me back. Excited for your next Southern treat, because no matter how many times I tell them I also lived in that town, they only want it if you made it."

"Well you moved there for your junior year, so I can understand why," he jokes, but instead of wiping away the bad memories of the case, it leaves him more exhausted than before.

"Aaron, what happened today?" she asks him, so attuned to his moods and feelings that he often wonders why she doesn't become a profiler.

"It's nothing," he tells her. No matter how many times she begs for him to tell her why he wakes up in the middle of the night, to share why he can't touch her without showering for a longer amount of time than can be healthy, he won't.

"You don't need to say specifics. But please don't lie to me."

"I'm sorry. I- can we eat first?"

Her mouth parts with shock. Of course they can eat first. She would do whatever was needed if it meant he would finally, after so many years of being married, tell her the truth about his job. She understood his need to keep it a secret. But when he came home, looking more defeated than he had at sixteen, she worried.

He puts Jack to sleep before climbing into bed beside her. She puts her book down- she hadn't really been reading it, just holding it to give her something to do- and turns so she's laying on her side. Absent-mindedly, she starts drawing circles on his stomach. His hand trembles as he removes it, placing it on the bed sheet.

"I profiled the team today," he begins.

Haley sits up properly. "I thought you had a rule against that."

"We do. But Erin… pushed. And before I knew what was happening I was sharing information about all of them. Things that- I don't know if they know that I know. And Erin is too good to use it to blackmail any of us but she isn't a profiler. They'll realise she knows."

"What did you tell her?" is all she says. She knows her husband. Knows how he takes everything personally, and how he will hold himself to unreachable standards because he was never allowed to be anything but perfect, and anything less than that is failure.

He tells her, in almost perfect verbatim, the same words he told Erin. Towards the end, his voice starts to get choked up. She knows he stutters when he feels under pressure or anxious and she knows he hates it. So instead of speaking, she takes his left hand, clasps it with both of hers and rubs circles over the knuckles.

For a moment, he stops speaking, staring at their interlocked hands instead with a look of slight wonder. Like even after all this time, he still couldn't believe he got to touch her. That she wanted to touch him, in spite of his devils and darkness.

It gives him the strength to finish.

"And you?" she asks, after it becomes clear he won't offer any more information as to why it hurt him so much.

Her question is an echo of Erin's, and he closes his eyes, giving himself a few moments to get lost in his head, where it is not necessarily safe, but is where he can be alone and not pretend to be good. 

"And I?"

"What did you say about yourself?"

"I said that if she could find someone better, then I wished her luck," he says, voice completely flat and monotone.

Haley tries to not be offended that he is speaking to her like she is an officer of the law, or a suspect, instead of her husband. "Why didn't you say more?"

"More?"

She nods. "You're feeling guilty because you profiled the team, but you didn't. You shared the pieces of them that make them human. That make them good agents and even better people. You didn't say anything like that about yourself. Why not?"

"Because I'm not like them. My trauma- I'm just not like the rest of the team, okay?"

"I know enough about trauma to know it affects every person differently, so I won't dispute that one. But if you're saying that you're not like the rest of your family, not team, then what are you like? Because from where I'm sitting, you are."

"I'm not," he repeats, growing slightly agitated.

She needs him to understand he is. "Aren't you?"

"No." this time, there is venom in his words. But it doesn't frighten her. It never has. The only time his words have such hatred injected into them is when he's afraid of himself. She's never been afraid of him. She never will be. Because to her, he is good. He is trying.

"How?" she pushes one last time.

And the dam explodes.

“I’m not soft! I’m not beautiful or kind or good or any of the things those stupid, stupid motivational quotes say! I’m not- I’m not like the others and all I want to know is why. Everyone else is good. They’re light and sweet and good. We’ve all been- we all have trauma. Why can’t I- why am I different? Why did mine make me violent and scared and- why can’t I move on?”

It was not what she was expecting. It was not what she thought he was going to say, and now she doesn't know what she is meant to do. She doesn't know how to piece him back together. Not this time. Not when his words are a confession he has been clinging to since the day he met Spencer.

"Aaron," she begins, for lack of other words to say.

"Don't," he cuts her off. "Please. Just don't. I can- I'll sleep in the guest room. You shouldn't have to deal with me when I'm like this."

"You're having a bad day. It's what I signed up to deal with," she says.

He shakes his head. "Not like this. Not like- Haley, what kind of father avoids his son the way I do because they're afraid? What kind of man doesn't know the difference between safety and happiness? How broken am I if my twenty-five year old subordinate can move on better than I can?"

"You're scared. You're a victim of child abuse. It's not- it's normal that you feel like this. I think. Aaron, I don't know. I don't know what kind of person this all makes you. But when I look at you, I see the man I married, the one so terrified of everything, thriving. I see someone that suffered atrocities that nobody should ever be put through fighting with everything they are, to break that cycle. I don't know how to make you feel better, but I vowed to be honest with you. And this is me doing that."

"You're the first person to tell me it wasn't my fault," he whispers. "Everyone else always said that I must've done something to deserve it."

"You were a child Aaron. You all were."

It was the wrong thing to say. 

"We were all children, but they're all better. They haven't closed themselves off. They- I see them, with their unfailing faith in humanity and it hurts. It physically hurts. What am I doing to them? What happens when the evil they see outweighs the goodness?"

"It's okay, Aaron," she laughs, because if she doesn't, she will cry and she will not do that. Not in this moment. "It's- the trauma and the hurt and the heartbreak doesn't always give you faith. It doesn't always make you a better person. Yes, they are still positive and happy and beautiful and good, but so are you. It's just buried somewhere. Because sometimes the trauma just hurts."

He stares at her eyes, and she sees the tears that had been threatening to fall since he got into the bed start to spill over. With one cautious hand, she wipes it away. She counts it as a win when he leans into the touch without flinching.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispers.

"That's the beautiful thing about love. We are all entitled to it. It's just about whether or not we'll take it."

"I don't know how to stop being so broken," he adds.

"You're not- people are not broken. Not ever. They are damaged by life and the terrible things that other people do, but they're never broken. Not beyond repair. Do you hear me? You are not broken. You never were. You were just hurt. But there are so many people that love you. That want to help you. All you have to do is ask."

"I know. I just- I wish he didn't have such a tight hold on me. I wish I could be more like Penelope. Or Derek. They're so beautiful, with their faith in love and goodness. Derek didn't have anyone. Not in the way I had you."

She didn't have to ask to know who he was talking about. "He was your father. Even despite everything, he took time off work when you had chicken pox and played with you when you were old enough to remember the snow."

"I know. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Do you think I'll always be like this? Cold and unapproachable and full of darkness?"

"The only people you are ever cold and unapproachable with is unsubs. Suspects. And there's nothing wrong with darkness. There's no light without it." she can't say anything more than that. Not without lying.

"You always know what to say," he says to her, hesitantly pulling her closer towards him.

She smiles. "It's because I love you."

His own smile fades, and he doesn't reply, instead brushing her hair off her face. She tries to not let it sting. The words had never been something said freely in his house. Never used to actually express love, only as a plea for mercy. There are a few minutes of silence, and she think he's finally fallen asleep. 

Then he speaks.

"Haley, what if I can't save them? I've already failed once. What if this, part of me, means the next time they need me, I can't be there? I can't save them?"

She thinks her answer over for a few minutes.

"Sometimes the way to save other people is to save ourselves. You need to save yourself first. But listen to me." 

She can tell he's fighting sleep now, so she speaks quickly.

"There is nothing wrong with you. Yes, you are flawed and you make mistakes, but that is because you are human. We all make mistakes. We are never perfect. You are not the only one to screw up. But this part of you-" she places a hand over his heart "-this part of you is not broken. It is not wrong or anything that you were led to believe it was. You are exactly what and where you need to be. And I love you for that."

"Do you promise?"

She swallows. "Of course I do." 

She's not entirely sure whether she's lying, but he drifts off with a smile, so she decides she doesn't care. There are certain lies she is willing to tell, if only so her husband has one night of peace.

Thinking of him as her husband is painful, because she knows it is only a matter of time before one of them snaps. Before this balance he has fought so hard to achieve topples like Jack's building blocks. She knows which way it will topple. She isn't angry.

But the balance hasn't toppled yet. It won't for a few weeks. So maybe it is wrong, but instead of pulling away, she lets herself hold her husband, the steady beating of his heart sending her to sleep.

She is right though. Even when she's no longer there, he knows she is right. That sometimes the pain is not poetic or character-building. Sometimes, it is just pain, and the only way forward is directly through it. It is not easy, but it is possible.

Everything is possible, so long as he lets himself feel without guilt.

[danijimenezv]

Coercion

Prompt/Summary: Based on the lovely Christmas moodboard that @jamespotterthefirst​ made ❤

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Jillian Valentine), and a little bit of Bryce Lahela x Ivy Valentine (MC’s younger sister)

Warnings: nothing, mostly fluff. Maybe a swear word here and there, but nothing serious.

Word Count: 1722 words

A/N: I’ve never written anything for this fandom, so I’m tagging a few people that I’ve seen around the main tags. If you don’t want to be tagged if I miraculously write anything else, let me know, no hard feelings at all! As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!

“Absolutely not.”

Ethan stared horrified at the velvety monstrosity the younger Valentine was presenting him, while Lahela and Mirani stared expectantly at him. He shook his head vehemently one more time, in case his previous statement hadn’t been clear enough.

“Come on, Ethan.” Baz clasped a hand over his shoulder, “It’s not that bad.”

“Uh, it’s not bad at all!” Ivy Valentine exclaimed, fully offended.

“Yeah, how come he gets a normal sweater but I get an ugly Christmas sweater?” Bryce complained.

“Because you look good in anything.” Ivy fluttered her eyelashes at her boyfriend.

“Smooth, Valentine.” Bryce hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, immediately crashing his lips against hers.

Ethan rolled his eyes at their very public display of affection, and turned back to the papers scattered all over his desk, taking advantage of the fact that they were no longer focused on bothering him.

“Doctor Mirani, was there anything you wanted to discuss about the case?” he redirected the subject of conversation.

“Not about the case.” he grinned unapologetically when Ethan narrowed his blue eyes at him, “The day is almost over anyway, there’s nothing else to discuss about it today, and you should be trying to make yourself presentable.”

“I am presentable. And I’m sure there are things still left to do here, so you should focus on that.”

“Come on, Ethan, this is huge. It’s all everyone has been talking about.”

“What?”

“Yeah, everyone knows tonight is the night.” Baz wiggled his eyebrows, “You’re having Christmas dinner with the Valentine’s, aren’t you? That’s a big step for you and Jill.”

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, hating, now more than ever, how the hospital gossip traveled around. He never cared much for it as long as everyone did their jobs, never paid much attention to it, but now it involved him, his girlfriend and her family, and that was what made it all the more annoying.

Girlfriend. The word popped up in his mind in a fraction of second, and although it still felt sort of weird, it wasn’t unwelcomed. It had taken them quite a lot to get to exactly that point, namely most of it was his fault, but to be able to call Jillian Valentine his was something he was incredibly grateful for. The second-year resident and junior fellow of the diagnostics team had practically weaseled her way into his life, and she had made such an impact, with her coquettish charm and quick wit, that he could no longer imagine his life without her.

“Ramsey, please.” Ivy returned her attention to him, “You’re a grumpy old man, aren’t you supposed to like this kind of sweaters?”

“I’m not a grumpy old man.” he barely looked up from the paper he was reading, “And I’m still not wearing that thing.”

“I even got you a different shade of green to match your eyes better. More blueish, instead of the plain green.”

“Much appreciated.” he let out sarcastically.

“Bryce.” Ivy whined softly, asking her boyfriend for help.

“Ramsey, my man.” Bryce grinned widely, knowing exactly how to approach it, “I have it on good authority that Jillian would love it if you wear this sweater tonight.”

That made him falter. No amount of begging from the youngest Valentine would make a difference for him. Jillian, on the other hand, was another story entirely; at this point, he was sure there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

“Super true.” Ivy caught on quickly, “She has a similar one, and she’s probably going to wear it tonight.”

“It’s less than half an hour for dinner, don’t you two have to go get ready?” Ethan tried one last time to get rid of them.

“I don’t have anywhere to be right now.” Baz pointed out, causing the older doctor’s glare to direct at him.

“Not you, them.”

“We are ready.” Bryce winked confidently, gesturing to his and Ivy’s matching red ugly Christmas sweaters.

“Jesus Christ, you two are nauseating.”

“As are you and my sister.” Ivy rolled her eyes, “But you said it yourself, it’s less than half an hour for dinner, what the hell are you waiting for?”

“I’m simply waiting for Jillian, who, unlike the three of you, is still working.”

“Or she’s changing in the locker rooms.” Bryce offered, “Ivy and I finished our surgeries a while ago. Just admit it, doc; we, surgeons, are just way better than you, medical guys.”

Ethan simply scoffed, but before he could retort back, Baz spoke up, “Wrong, but that’s a debate for another day. I should go find Zaid, and you need to get going to that dinner. You can’t be late, Ethan.”

With a wide smile on his face and a last wave, Baz exited the office, humming a catchy Christmas song softly.

“Okay, enough of this, I’m done.” Ivy marched towards him and shoved the sweater in his face aggressively, “I’m Jill’s sister, and as her boyfriend you need to keep me happy, right? So wear this tonight.”

Ivy spun around on her heels and strut right out of there without a look back. Bryce shrugged, not being able to come up with an explanation for his girlfriend’s loss of patience, and quickly followed after her, leaving the diagnostician finally alone. He inspected the item of clothing closely one last time, before cursing the youngest Valentine. Time seemed to stretch as he continued to stare at the sweater, almost with offense, before he sighed in defeat and pulled it over his clothes. He was in the middle of grumbling under his breath about the damn piece of clothing he felt forced to wear, when his favorite voice resonated from the doorway.

“Hey, I’m sorry for the delay, but I’m ready now.”

He looked up in time to see Jillian halt completely and inspect him from head to toe, but before he could offer some kind of explanation, a breath-taking smile overtook her delicate features as she spotted the sweater. And just like that, all the insults and complaints that had been swirling in his head since Ivy showed it to him disappeared, because even if he wasn’t a huge fan of it, wearing that damn sweater made it all worth it if it got his Jill to smile like that.

“You got a Christmas sweater?” she asked breathily, still staring in wide-eyed wonder at him.

“No, not those awful sweatshirts your sister and her boyfriend are sporting around proudly. This barely counts as a Christmas sweater, and it’s as far as I’ll go for the holidays.”

“Good enough for me. It’s the sentiment that counts.”

Jillian walked decisively to him and threw her arms around his shoulders, standing on her tiptoes to reach better, while Ethan slouched slightly and wrapped his own arms around her waist. She giggled softly as Ethan ran his nose against hers, their foreheads pressed together and blue eyes boring into honey-colored ones.

“Did you wear it for me?”

“Most things I do are for you, Doctor Valentine.” he smiled softly at the adoring glint that sparked in her eyes, “But I was also coerced to wear it by your incredibly annoying younger sister.”

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t have to deal with Ivy as an intern, then?”

“Of course I am. She’s Harper’s problem, I already have my hands full with one Valentine on the medical team.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jill grinned, “Right?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” he leaned in and kissed her, though the moment was too short-lived for Jillian’s liking, because she whined softly when he pulled away, “Now, I believe we are expected to attend Christmas dinner with your family, so we should get going. I don’t want to be late.”

“What if we just… skipped it?” one of her hands wandered slowly down the expanse of his chest, gripping the sweater and releasing it multiple times.

“Jillian Valentine, is there a reason you don’t want me to have dinner with your family?” his voice was teasing, light-hearted, but the question had a twinge of worry underneath.

“It’s not like that.” Jillian spotted his doubt immediately, with that uncanny and unexplainable ability to pick on his thoughts as if reading his mind, “It’s just… as loving as they all are, my family is a bit complicated. My siblings are a nightmare, you would know because you’ve already met Ivy. And my parents are… intense. You’re too important for me, I don’t want them to scare you away.”

“That’s what you’ve been worrying about the whole day?” Ethan asked, placing his hands firmly on her hips and looking down at her with a stern expression on his face, “Jill, there’s nothing that could take me away from you. I thought you already knew that.”

“I know, I know, but I’ve just been overthinking about it.”

“Well, I promise you, there’s nothing in the world that can change the way I feel about you.”

“Okay.” she whispered, completely dazzled by the intensity of his words.

“Was that all?” he wanted to make sure.

“Yes, I promise. Nothing else. Definitely not any doubts about you or our relationship. I’m in for the long haul.”

“Good, because so am I.”

Jillian caressed his cheekbone delicately, “Don’t ever doubt my feelings for you, Ethan. After all, I was the one who fought for us, remember?”

“That you were.” he agreed, sighing in relief, “And I’m so very glad you did.”

“Me too.”

This time, when he kissed her, he made sure not to rush the moment. As soon as his lips came in contact with hers, they kissed passionately and urgently, like they couldn’t get enough of each other. Ethan deepened the kiss and pulled her as close as he physically could, his hands exploring the soft skin and subtle curves he already had memorized by heart. Finally, Jillian pulled apart from him, softly nibbling his lower lip before letting it go.

“Now, let’s get moving, Doctor Valentine.”

“Yes, boss.” she answered back mockingly, biting her lip to stifle her giggles.

“Jillian.” Ethan warned her.

With a heartfelt laugh, Jillian pulled away from his embrace, but entwined her fingers with his, and finally, they made their way out of the office together, ready to meet the Valentine’s for Christmas dinner.

*******************************************************************************************

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