#i had since i was like eight and might’ve had it until now if it wasn’t because my dog destroyed it

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Seventeen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Okay! Hi!:) Just have to say thank you for all the love you lot keep showing this series, it’s so mad and so very appreciated. Honestly makes me want to carry on writing. But I also wanted to add a quick warning to this update.. There is a lot going on, we finally get what we’ve been waiting for!! But there are other topics that also come into play. SO that being said please read the warnings below.

Warnings: Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse (past tense), as well as sobriety, also a previous death, bit gruesome but needed- this relates back to a conversation held between Matty and Jamie in Part Eight.

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

She never did call.

Matty waited, and then waited some more. He fidgeted the rest of the day, smoked his way through a pack of fags when they’d been down at the studio, and then nursed a single pint after having allowed the guys to bully him into one of the local pubs.

It wasn’t until much later that night that he heard anything from her at all, and it hadn’t been a call, but instead a text.

Messages now Squeaks xx I listened to it 

He’d been cooped up in his office since the second he’d gotten home, looking through a couple of older demos and other sound clips in hopes that he’d find something that would fit with the current sound of their new album. George had been on his case about it all, claiming he’d been too spaced out as of late, so Matty had huffed but ultimately followed through.

Songbooks from years before were piled up high on his desk and on the floor, pages full of chords and scribbled lyrics cluttered the rest of the space, but he continued on, using it to distract him from the torturous wait.

When his phone finally did buzz, Matty had almost decided not to answer it, figuring that it would just be a message from Jamie, or maybe his mum. He was still waiting for that ring. But fuck was he glad that he’d taken a glance. Otherwise he might’ve missed it.

Are you busy?

The next text had come through almost a minute after the first, as though she’d been debating sending it. Matty frowned down at the screen, pushing away from his desk slightly.

She’d heard it.

She’d heard the demo. 

He didn’t quite know how to feel about that, or what to take from her clipped response. It was why he had essentially asked her to call him, because at least then he would’ve been able to somewhat determine what she’d thought about it, how she might’ve felt.

His tongue slid between the row of his front teeth in thought, staring down at the messages he’d received whilst his thumbs hovered over the keyboard looking for something to say.

Can you come over?

His fucking breath got caught in his throat just reading that, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. Matty didn't even think before he hastily answered her, worried she might take it all back.

Give me ten minutes.

He could do ten minutes. 

Fuck it. He’d fucking speedtail it out of here and try for five if it meant that she’d just let him in again. The last week had been painful enough, no need to fucking prolong it.

So that was what he did, throwing on the first pair of trainers he’d found in the hallway and grabbing at the car keys he’d tossed down on the counter months earlier. Forgetting about the album and the work he’d planned to do, along with whatever else that had seemed so important just a second ago.

She called and he would come running.

…

It was pissing down by the time he made it to her place.

Headlights on and ignition still running, Matty went to make his escape from the driver's seat, practically vibrating with the anticipation of it all. But he did momentarily pause to yank the keys from beneath the wheel before eventually scrabbling his way out of the sidedoor, feet immediately dropping into the murky puddle sat beneath. 

He’d parked like a fucking dickhead, halfway onto the curb and his boot sticking out into the empty street, but he could care less about it as he jogged around the front of the car and up the first few steps to her door.

There was blood rushing in his ears, filling up his head and making him dizzy with it all. He raised a fist to knock, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

He’d gotten there in just under seven minutes. 

His heart was pounding like mad. 

He knocked. 

It was minutes or maybe seconds before he heard a slight scuffle on the other side. Before the hallway light turned on and peered through the painted window pane sat atop the familiar front door. 

The chain fell with a clang and Matty swallowed, watching on as the hinges creaked, revealing her face.

She stared up at him, standing in a pair of pyjamas he remembered seeing on a late night call of theirs, her hair all tied up in one of those pretty buns, soft curls escaping at the sides.

Her lips parted with her next breath, the sound of it jumped out at him and Matty couldn’t really hold back anymore. It had been six months. Six whole months. Almost to the day they’d met... Back when he’d been cocksure and arrogant. When he’d still been reeling from another stint in rehab, and from the stunt before the summer, and from Luke’s death.

Matty paused. 

He hadn’t really thought about Luke so easily. Not ever. Not since that night. Not in passing.

But she was currently staring back at him. Her eyes wide and tired. Shining in the light of the street lamps that crowded the street outside. 

Matty stepped forward, reaching for her. 

“Tell me to stop.” He muttered. 

She didn’t. 

And so his hand found the edge of her jaw, fingers nestling into a place at her hairline, skimming the tip of her ear.

“I can’t.” She answered him. Always so full of truth. 

And Matty, Matty was a selfish man. He’d been a selfish kid, too. A bratty teenager. A hellish son and an even worse boyfriend. Always so egotistical, so bold, so brazen. But even more so, selfish. 

He would take and take. And this moment was no different. He took.

Her mouth met his with an agonising fever, and there was an eager sigh that escaped in the breath shared between them that Matty couldn’t really determine if was his or hers.

She let him in so easily, let his tongue roam. She let him pull her close, let his hand find purchase on her hip and hear her moan. 

It was a whimper of a thing, a sound that was swallowed up by his mouth as he consumed her again. But it fuelled that fire within him, that heat which had been simmering so close to the surface of his skin for weeks, months now. 

“Mouse.” Matty said shakily, walking her backwards, further into the flat, where their feet shuffled over the hardwood floors. The door swung shut behind them and rattled in the silence before he was spinning and pressing her shoulders up against its cold wood. 

“Matty.” She breathed back to him, fingers catching on his neck, then his jaw, winding their way up into his hair. Tugging. 

A grunt escaped him and he pressed harder with it, teeth catching on her teeth, hands moulding into her skin. 

She tasted of something sweet, it coated the length of her tongue and melded well with the cigarette he’d lit on his way over. He wanted to taste more of it, found his nose pressing against the skin of her cheek in an attempt to do so. 

It was a second later that he felt himself rut up against her, accidentally mind, but the zip of his jeans tugged at the band of her bottoms and the movement made him realise he was hard. Had been half-way there from the moment she had texted him, but now, in her hallway, with her grinding up against him, and with those pretty little sounds she let slip, it was almost painful.

“Squeaks.” He managed to force out and she swallowed her own name right up, one arm wrapping around the length of his shoulders whilst the other tugged at the nape of his neck. 

Matty followed her demands effortlessly, a hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to feel at the warm skin hidden beneath, a calloused thumb brushing against the jut of her hip.

He explored, felt the edges of rigid flesh she kept hidden and out of sight, the freckles that lingered and dotted her torso, then wedged his knee between her legs. Hands grabbing at the backs of her thighs. 

One of her knees rode up higher on his side as he shifted even closer, letting her use him like a makeshift ladder to lift herself further up in the little space which stood between him and the door. 

He rutted again and the joint of her knee tightened by his hip, the heel of her foot digging into the back of his leg, forcing him even nearer. He grabbed at the swell of her arse, noting the way she arched into him at the touch. How her stomach tensed. 

It had just been pissing it down outside, he recalled belatedly, but her warmth in that moment seemed to dry up the remaining raindrops caught in his hair and along the shoulders of his coat. His fingertips pressed harder into her thighs at the thought, feeling the bottom of her shirt ride up higher between them upon catching on the zip of his jacket. 

She nipped at his lip, then his jaw, hands all but clawing at his neck and his back.

“Squeaks.” He tried again, brain hazy with want but needing to do this right. He had to do this right. “Squeaks.” Again he said, a plea within a shared breath between them, “Baby, please.”

She retreated all too quickly, letting him go with a sharp inhale. Lids heavy with avidity as she blinked back at him. 

Matty realised then that he’d had her pinned to the door, crowded against the wood and practically having lifted her up off of her feet. He swallowed thickly at the sight and willed his dick to calm the fuck down. But it had been way too fucking long. 

He was unhurried in the way he shifted beneath her before carefully letting her go, unwinding the leg he held at his hip before she slid slowly down his front. Feet hitting the cold wood floors with a soft thud.

He blinked and gone was that selfishness they had just shared, that immediate heat, and suddenly she was all wary, shy almost. Matty reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, before he steeled himself and finally took a step back.

“You came.” She murmured after a breath, and had his mind been in better shape he’d have been quicker with his quip.

But yet, he was left drifting in between the heady thrill and the uneventful come down they’d shared. 

He blinked slowly at her. Could see that the hallway light was the only one on, but somewhere, further down the hall, a soft glow from one of her many lamps crept its way past a door. 

“You said you’d call.” He found himself saying in reply, though it wasn’t the reprimand he’d thought it was. 

Her smile was soft then. Fond. 

His breath caught at the sight of her, still laboured from the minute before.

“After.” Squeaks whispered in recall. And Matty heard himself repeat it, “After, you said.”

She took a small step closer to him, the padding of her feet echoed in the narrow walkway. Matty’s hands twitched at his sides.

He saw her throat bob. 

“Tea?” She questioned, and Matty was both thankful and resentful for the quiet offer. 

He nodded, blinking owlishly at her. 

They stood there, not moving, for a long moment. The sound of a car passed, then the scuffle of a person or two outside, as well as the far off yap of a neighbouring dog. And still they just stood there, staring.

She took another step nearer and Matty attempted not to react to the way her fingers caught on the front of his coat, memorising the careful way she started to peel it off of him, turning so that she could claim it and then hang it off some place to the side. He looked at her the whole while, scared to take his eyes off her, in truth.

He licked at his lower lip when he caught her staring too and captured her hand in his when she went to step around him. 

“Tea.” He reminded himself and she smiled, eyes flickering across the length of his face. As though she was seeing him for the first time.

“Tea.”

…

Her kitchen always felt so homely. 

She had spices fixed to a rack on the wall, wound in growing ivy attached to the potted plant that sat on the windowsill beside it. Her fridge was dotted in magnets and polaroids, and a drawing of Teddy’s hung front and centre. The table was always so neat, though still cluttered with the odd crayon and lego piece, a bowl of fruit was perched in the very middle. She had one of those kettle cosy’s too, a knitted one that reminded Matty of days spent at his nana’s house when he was just a boy. 

His favourite part of all of it though, had to be her. 

He stood in the doorway and just watched as she puttered about the space, flashbacks of previous visits coming back to him. She had this easy grace about her, an elegance he always seen but could never quite make out. She was a piece to many puzzles in the way she typically held herself, so ready to fight and so willing to wilt, but in that moment she just was.

And Matty could hardly tear his eyes away from her, from the length of her back to the curve of her waist. The taste, the memory of her still coating his tongue.

He’d kicked off his shoes before he could trail a messy track throughout her home, so his footsteps were quiet when he finally crossed the kitchen tiles. He paused just behind her, his hands falling to her hips whilst his chin dropped to rest on her shoulder.

She allowed it. Picking up the kettle to pour over two mismatched mugs, he simply watched her work.

It was a difficult task not allowing his hands to wander, or to keep his mouth from pressing against the pulse in her neck, but he withheld, content to just hold her. Humming when she picked up the milk and thinking over the last day they’d spent together. That night at his.

They moved over to the table not long after, her kitchen blinds were still open so the moon gifted them all the light they needed. Matty kept close, knocking his knees against hers at the very corner of the table, unwilling to go without.

She was quiet still whilst she danced a finger around the rim of her steaming brew, Matty was mesmerised by the delicate motion.

A hum of hers broke the silence they had since settled in, the softness of it causing him to blink and look up, immediately recognising the faint tune of the demo he’d sent her.

He smiled, his eyes caught on to the one she wore too. Practically conspiratorial.

His legs reached outwards to capture one of her ankles between his feet, her gaze flickered back and forth between both his eyes. He wondered what she saw in them, what she made of him.

“I’m guessing you liked it then.” Matty spoke, voice ever so low, still scared to break their languid solitude.

Mouse dipped her chin in a nod, peering up at him through dark lashes that made him want to catch her by the neck and pull her in again. He knew what she tasted like now, he felt as though it would forever haunt him.

“Thank you,” She whispered after, fingers cupped around the bottom of her mug. His brow furrowed.

“For what?”

She smiled again, blinking at him sweetly, “For my gifts, for always being so lovely, for sending me that song.”

Matty snorted, knowing that the last thing he could possibly be was lovely.

Fingertips touched his chin then and she guided his face back up to meet hers, he hadn’t realised he’d even looked away. But it was then that he was reminded of that night in his own kitchen, crowded between her legs and the counter, her kind eyes. You’re enough.

“Was it for me?” She questioned, watching him closely again. Something she tended to always do. “‘Cause that kiss, it sort of made it feel like it was for me.”

Matty grinned, eyes squinting with the strength of it. 

It was so easy- too easy, even- for her to make him smile like that, and he couldn’t even begin to decide whether he loved or hated the fact that she had the ability. 

“Yeah, Squeaks. It was for you.”

Her cheeks dimpled in an attempt to dim the smile she then wore, elbows pressing against the table’s edge, her foot resting on top of his own. “Good.” She murmured, leaning in closer now.

“Good?” He chuckled, following the motion. Eyes caught on the curve of her mouth.

“Uhuh,” She breathed into the small space between them, nose brushing against the side of Matty’s own. “Really good.”

He laughed again, low and breathy this time around, before he finally closed the distance and kissed her for a second time.

She laughed too, smiling against his lips.

–

For an insomniac, the dark was a place full of many contradictions.

Matty had spent countless hours staring up at all types of ceilings, in all sorts of places, and in all kinds of countries. But hers, he reckoned, was possibly his favourite. As most things had come to be in the short time he’d spent with Mouse.

Because even as she slept on beside him, bundled in the duvet and a blanket that smelt of her, he didn’t stress over the fact that he was still wide awake. 

His mind was too preoccupied to stress. Just thinking back to the expression she’d worn when she’d first opened the front door. To the breathy gasps that had escaped her in the hallway. The way she’d gently carded her fingers through his hair after she’d lured him into bed. Promising to talk more tomorrow.

He thought of Luke then, as well. As he often did whenever the darkness plagued him.

The fucker would be laughing if he could just see him now, obsessing and all soppy over some bird. Smiling away to himself in the dark.

But Matty knew that he’d be happy too. Glad that he was finally getting back on the right track. Actually trying this time around. Because Luke had known the hardships of addiction just as well as Matty had- it was what had killed him in the end, wasn't it.

He could still picture his face, both before and after the fall. One second they’d all been grinning on that roof, high as kites and drunk out of their minds, having the time of their lives, and then his had hit the concrete.

Matty’s stomach rolled at the thought.

At the eerie silence that had followed.

He’d been struggling that night, trying to get clean, to stay clean. And they’d only gone to the party, Luke and Danny, to appease him. Luke, having tagged along wanting to look out for him, to make sure that he didn’t get too caught up in anything he couldn’t get himself out of.

Luke had been sober three months at that point. Clean of the drugs and the drink. All of it. He’d drank that night though, the party had been at one of his dodgier mates places and he wouldn’t have been able to have stayed in the clear.

Matty remembered egging him on, telling him to live a little. To have a beer. A shot. And then another. And another. Someone else had offered him that line though.

He’d been hammered by the time some idiot had come up with that dare and they’d all thought it had been a sick idea to try and walk the length of the roof. Like they were at Zippo’s sodding circus.

Luke had been doing so good. Matty had known it too. What with his first EP coming out that September, something which Jamie had made happen, and his new flat that he’d not long moved into. Away from the familiarity of street corners he knew far too well and faces of dealers that he’d seen time and time again before.

He’d been good. Been going steady.

Then he was just dead.

Matty didn’t close his eyes then, even as they began to water. Didn’t want to see him like that. Knew that he would if only he shut his eyes. Because he couldn't stand to see the reminder, the life that had left him too quickly.

A slight sniff broke him from his thoughts then and he stilled as Mouse moved and turned in her sleep.

He let himself breathe a little easier once she’d settled again, tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder and nestling further into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, needing her close, and then finally allowed his eyes to fall shut, burying his face in the top of her hair.

He wondered if she’d let him stay from now on and pressed a long kiss to her forehead.

He hoped that she would, listening to the quiet that hummed throughout the rest of her flat as his mind began to let go of what consciousness it had once clung on to.

‘Tomorrow’ was his final thought before he eventually drifted off. It had been a long time since he’d thought that he’d ever make it to a tomorrow.

–

It was a grunt I woke up to. The heavy and unfavoured kind, the type that was only ever forced out of you when you received a hefty blow to the stomach.

I felt my face wrinkle as I pressed in closer to the warmth beside me, unhappy to have been woken. But then I heard a whisper, followed by a giggle, which had me blinking blearily and peering up at the toddler now towering over me.

“Wake now?”

“Teddy.” I heard someone else laugh right above my head, and I was quick in the way I looked up, recognising that the warmth I’d been clinging to had been Matty all along. “You’re an actual monster, you know that?”

Teddy squealed happily when Matty tickled his sides, but seemed content with his place on the man’s stomach and the fact that Matty was here at all. 

I wanted to groan at the very idea, I hadn't much thought this through. Not when I’d heard the song, thinking back to the night I’d spent at his, the fight we’d had, the way he’d held Teddy and promised him that things would soon be alright.

It hadn’t felt real. It still didn’t.

“Wake?” Teddy said to me again and I had to give a soft laugh when I felt his finger prod at my cheek, which was probably marked with the line of Matty’s t-shirt now. “Yeah?”

I chuckled again, peering up at him. “Yeah, I’m awake.” I replied, smiling before I rubbed at my eyes.

Matty’s arm seemed to be tucked up under me because it twitched a tad when I moved. I grimaced at the loss of feeling he must have experienced and murmured a quiet “Sorry,” shuffling over slightly so that I could free the limb. But he merely laughed to himself before his hand came up to rub at my arm, keeping me close. 

“It’s fine.” Matty replied, his voice tinged with sleep and grainy from lack of use, but then he winced and flexed his fingers, “Oh.”

I snorted softly and glanced up at him, “Pins and needles?”

His nose wrinkled further, as did his lips when he tilted his head back and tried to shake loose the feeling from his wrist. I let him have his arm back, turning over onto my stomach to simply watch him, drinking in the sight of him whilst I still could.

“Yeah.” He hissed out and Teddy, who was watching too, started to shake his arm alongside Matty.

Matty only noticed the mimicking movement when he felt the toddler shift on his torso and opened his eyes up only to laugh at the way that Teddy was now copying him.

“Oi,” He admonished, using his other hand to playfully pinch at the boy’s side, “What you think you’re doin’?”

Teddy giggled, hair a mess from having just woken but grinning all the while. “Dancin’! Like you!”

I shook my head and bit back my sudden amusement before dropping it down into my hands when I couldn’t quite manage to hide my growing smile.

“Oh, we’re dancing are we?” I heard Matty say, and could feel the grin he probably wore. Then Teddy was laughing again and squirming beside me once more, sounding so happy, before the bed tilted more so to one side and a soft thud was heard. “Oi, where you off to!” Matty asked him whilst Teddy’s giggles still echoed around the space.

“Tele!” Was the only response he got and I listened to the way Teddy’s feet hurried out of the room, having escaped Matty’s merciless tickles.

There was a quiet for a moment before I felt a hand come to cradle my head and fingers card their way through my hair.

I leaned into the touch, savouring it. I didn’t think anyone had ever touched me with such a softness before, like I was something to be treasured, to be held and kept close.

It was a long while before I finally raised my head again, blinking at the sweet sight I was met with. I smiled at the mess his curls were in and the way his eyes squinted in the dim light of the room.

“Hi.” I whispered and his fingers stilled in my hair when he looked back at me. 

Matty didn’t say a thing though, merely shuffled further down the bed, the duvet being kicked somewhere to the bottom before he finally settled in beside me, both our heads now resting on a single pillow.

His fingertips skirted along the edge of my jaw and trailed across the bottom of my lip before his thumb reached out to catch it too, pinching the flesh ever so slightly.

“You snore.” Matty said to me then and my mouth dropped open slightly in offence.

“I do not.”

He snorted to himself, grin widening, “You do.”

I shoved him but his hands were quick to grab at my arms, wrapping them up and moving to press them against his chest. “It’s cool though, they’re cute snores.”

“How the fuck can they be cute, Matty?”

He rolled his eyes at the ask, still grinning away. “Like, just soft and stuff. Don’t stress, I’ve roomed with George and he’s got the lungs of a whale or summat. I could probably sleep next to a fog horn and feel at home.”

A bright laugh escaped me at that, before I was shaking my head gently and looking back at his sleepy smile. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Matty smacked his lips around another grin, shrugging the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the mattress. He reached out then, brushing a loose strand from out of my face and let his thumb linger on a freckle.

“Your breath stinks as well.”

I bit into my bottom lip at that, narrowing my eyes at him. “Well yours is no better! And besides, you didn’t seem to mind it much last night.”

I went to turn over then but he was hasty in his movements to grab at me, tugging me back towards him, closer this time. I laughed joyfully, “Hey!”

“Hi.” Matty grinned smugly once we'd settled, his hand falling to the small of my back.

I was gripping one of his shoulders now whilst my other arm laid in the little space between us. “I said that already.” I told him, feeling each soft exhale that escaped him. 

He hummed, thumb rubbing circles into my skin. “I missed you, you know.”

My brow furrowed, “You slept right beside me, you muppet.”

He pinched my hip in retaliation and so I chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

I did know.

“Missed you, too.” I murmured, letting my fingertips trail up over the side of his neck, liking the feel of his barely there stubble. “But-”

He stopped me then, nudging my cheek with the tip of his nose, “I know. Later, yeah?”

My eyes fell closed and I hummed in agreement, later was fine. We could talk later.

His hand pressed against the curve of my back, forcing me even closer, and so my fingers worked themselves into his hair. I exhaled softly and tilted my head forward just a touch. He closed the distance between us in a single heartbeat.

Kissing Matty was different, everything about it just felt right in a way that no other kisses ever quite had. Things appeared to click. Fall into place around me. 

But don't get me wrong, it was painful too, because there was that ache in my chest again, the hole that hollowed out my unforgiving heart. I wanted him but at the same time, I was too terrified to reach out and touch.

Our lips brushed, once, twice, then a third time, hesitant and careful, before something shifted and I was taken back to the previous night. To the way his fingers had dug deep into my thighs, to the front door pressing against my spine, to the way he’d held me so weightlessly.

Talking could wait til later, I reminded myself.

Now, all I wanted was for Matty to consume me and I immediately gasped at the cold hand that dragged its way up my side to tease me, thumb brushing against the nipple that hardened beneath it. 

I wouldn’t let him have all the fun though, so without a second thought I rolled him over and settled on his hips. He was surprised by the change but adapted seamlessly, rutting up off the mattress to meet me, one hand still toying with me, taunting, whilst the other cupped the back of my head.

It was back and forth for a short while, mouth chasing mouth, chests heaving with the force of it.

But then, a bang hollowed out the flat.

I jumped at the sudden noise and shot my head over towards the door, listening in closer.

“Okay?” I called out, noting the breathless quality my voice now had. I waited and didn’t move even when Matty’s hands came to just sit on my waist. 

“‘Kay!” I heard Teddy shout back and I released a semi-amused huff before turning back to face the man beneath me, “Sorry.”

And I was. I really was, especially when I forced myself to drop back down onto the bed sheets next to him.

Matty simply chuckled and I glanced over at him, smiling slightly when he reached out to swipe a gentle thumb over the scar on my jaw. “You’re good." I wondered if he was just saying that, but then, "What do you think he’s actually done though? Sounded like the bike to me.”

I sighed at the very thought. The bike had been one of my mum’s many Christmas gifts to Teddy, one which I hardly had any room for in the flat. I silently hoped that it wasn't the bike, but was caught on the way Matty had so easily adapted, moving on without complaint.

Was that normal?

Matty’s hand coaxed me back into looking at him again and I softened when I saw the smile he wore. “Later,” He reminded me, knocking a knuckle against my chin before he withdrew completely, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “How about a fry up then? There's that bakery by the studio or the cafe up near mine, choice is yours but it’s on me.”

“Matty.” I huffed, not a whine but near enough, extending an arm out in hopes that it would call him back to bed.

He smirked, glancing at me from over his shoulder once he'd stood. He dragged a hand through his hair. “Come on, got a growing boy to feed- Teddy too, I 'spose.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help my grin. “You’re an idiot.”

“So you’ve said.” He quipped and I could hear how his laughter filled the flat even as he headed for the bathroom, “Teds get ready, mate! We're getting bacon!”

I fell back onto the mattress with a smile, staring up at the ceiling above me with a little bit of hope.

[merrybloomwrites]

I Feel the Earth Move

Summary: Y/N experiences her first earthquake and her long distance boyfriend, Spencer, needs to know she's alright.

Word Count: 665

AN: I put a post out the other day that showed there's interest in Spencer stories. And then I felt an earthquake for the first time and got inspired to write this. Just a little story to get into the swing of writing for Spencer.

CW: earthquake

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

One of the first things you had talked to Spencer about when you started dating was your shared experiences with hurricanes. Bit of a random topic, but with him being from Florida and you being from New Jersey, it was something you had in common. He then told you about the couple of earthquakes he’d experienced since moving out to Los Angeles. A tiny part of you was slightly jealous, but mostly you were happy you live in a place where the ground stays still at all times.

You’ve been dating Spencer for ten months now, but unfortunately, you’ve been long distance the whole time. Being on opposite coasts with a three-hour time difference makes things more complicated, but you’re looking forward to the near future when you finally get to move out to California. You work as a teacher and just need to finish the current school year and then you’re on your way to Los Angeles. You even have a new job and apartment lined up. Spencer sends texts nearly every day counting down until you’ll finally live in the same city.

It's early April, and your school is on Spring Break. You spent the week catching up on things you had been putting off, like doctor’s appointments and deep cleaning your closets. But now it’s Friday, and your to-do list is done. You’re having a lazy morning at home, sitting and watching some new Smosh videos that you hadn’t gotten a chance to see yet.

Suddenly you hear the hallway door rattling. For a second you think it must be the wind, but then the floor starts to shake. Next thing you know everything is rattling. It only lasts a few seconds and leaves you just standing in the middle of your living room, wondering what the hell just happened.

You think that it might’ve been an earthquake, but that would be ridiculous. Because that doesn’t happen where you live.

But then your mom texts the family group chat asking if everyone felt that. Your brother, sister, and dad all text back saying they had. You do a quick google search and within minutes you find the confirmation that it was in fact an earthquake, so you share the link with your family.

The first person you want to tell is Spencer, but it’s not even 8 in the morning in California. You know he doesn’t need to be at work until later in the day and is likely still sleeping. You’ll wait a bit before texting him, so you don’t wake him up.

 Twenty minutes later your phone starts ringing, and you’re surprised to see Spencer’s name pop up.

“Hey, what are you doing up so early?” You say as a greeting.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Of course I’m okay,” you reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the earthquake?”

“I was going to, I just wanted to wait a little while, so I wouldn’t wake you. How did you find out about it?”

“Like, eight different people from work texted me to ask if you lived where the earthquake happened. Y/N, you’re like, a mile from the epicenter. I needed to check that you’re alright.”

You’re overwhelmed with emotion at this, hearing how much he cares, and how worried he was about you.

“I’m okay Spencer, I promise. It wasn’t that bad. Honestly I was more confused than scared,” you reply.

“Well then we need to work on your survival instincts before you come to California,” he says, causing you both to laugh.

“Thank you for checking in on me,” you say.

“I’ll always make sure you’re safe,” he replies. Your heart melts again, and you can’t believe that he’s real. And that he’s really yours.

“I love you,” you say, unable to express your feelings at this moment in any other way.

“I love you too,” he replies, voice full of sincerity.

“Only 86 more days,” you state, giving him the countdown today.

“I can’t wait, baby.”

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

AN: Thanks for reading! This is was just a little warm up to writing for Spencer. Please send me any requests you have for him! Also, please lmk if you'd like to be added to a taglist for all my Spencer stories!

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - Epilogue

One final part of the story to wrap it all up!

Series Master List

Warnings have their own post - Word count: 21.6k (I regret nothing!)

Eight years later

It was the first time since last year you were able to come this far out from Jackson. The snow had been thick on the ground since November, and any patrols this far from Jackson had been postponed until the spring. But even your corner of Wyoming had finally been graced with warm weather and sunshine, the snow melting rapidly, making it crucial for patrols to go further out to make sure there were no threats closing in on your ever growing community. 

Maria and the board had made the right decision when they’d sent you and six experienced men and women this far down the valley. You’d come across a gang of raiders on an abandoned farm after spotting the corpses of two travelers in a ravine. The travelers had been ambushed and all their possessions, including their boots, had been taken from them. Martha, a woman a few years younger than you, was one of the best trackers in Jackson, and she’d picked up the raiders’ trail quick enough. The ensuing attack on their camp had been brutal and swift, leaving the four men dead in minutes. You left the bodies where they fell, as a warning to anyone who came near Jackson. 

Now you and two of the men in your patrol are up on a ridge, surveying the area, looking for signs of travelers or infected. You’d left Frankie at home this morning, with strict instructions to not leave the bed unless it was to pee. He’d stumbled home early yesterday afternoon from his guard shift, shivering under his heavy coat and coughing loudly enough to wake Benny and Eve’s dog across the street. It didn’t take you long to realize that he was running a fever, either a flu or a bad cold. Either way, it had knocked him out for the rest of the evening and he was still drowsy when you left him in bed with a jug of water, sandwiches and a couple of precious, and long since expired, paracetamols. 

You’re used to going on patrol without Frankie these days. It was easier if one of you stayed at home with Jack when he was little, and it felt like you were tempting fate if you both left. Patrols were not as dangerous as they had been in the early days of Jackson, but they still posed a certain risk. You breathed a sigh of relief whenever Frankie returned safely, even if nothing had happened to any of you in years, life was never without risk. But these days Jackson was an imposing enough structure to deter any raiders that came close by, and the patrols that went out were well equipped, well armed and large enough in numbers to handle almost anything. 

The other four in your patrol had split up and followed trails that led away from the farm, looking for any raiders that might’ve gotten away. You hear one of them approach through the underbrush now, calling out a greeting before you see the man. 

“Hey Elijah, did you find anyone?” you ask the dark haired man that appears between the fresh green birch trees. 

“Yeah, but not a raider I think, you’d better come see him,” he replies, pointing over his shoulder. You leave the two men with you up on the ridge and follow Elijah down the narrow trail. 

“What makes you say he’s not a raider?” 

“He’s all beaten up, looks pretty rough, and he’s got a badly sprained ankle,” Elijah says, guiding his horse down through the forest. “Says he got it running from the raiders, fell off a cliff trying to get away from them. And he sure as hell look as if he fell off a clip, all cut and bruised, clothes torn, the man’s a mess.” 

“Was he armed?” 

“No, he has an empty knife sheath on his belt, but no supplies, no bag, nothing on him.”

“Huh, maybe he’s telling the truth then,” you hum, “How did you find him?” 

“Cain sniffed him out, he was hiding in a small hunting cabin, I think he thought we were the raiders, looked pretty damn scared when we kicked the door in.” 

“Did Cain clear him? He’s not infected?” 

“Na, he’s clean for that at least,” Elijah says and nodded towards the small cabin you were approaching, “Kieran’s inside with him.” 

You both dismount and tie your horses to a tree before stepping into the house. It’s really just a shed, a tiny hunting cabin built just to give shelter for a night or two with a small window and an old wood fired stove in the corner, almost rusted all the way through now. On the floor, leaning against the back wall, is a man about your age with black hair. He’s wiping his hand gingerly over his check where the blood from a sharp cut is starting to clot, and he holds his other hand protectively against his chest. The dark jeans are torn in several places and you can see scrapes and scratches through the ripped denim. The light in the cabin is dim and when you step in through the door he looks up at you, squinting against the light from the open door. It takes your brain a few long moments to catch up, to place the face, but then your jaw drops. 

“Tommy?” 

Tommy blinks a couple of times, his eyes widening with surprise, “Holy shit….” he gasps, “I thought you were dead!” 

You shake your head as you take a few steps forward and kneel down in front of the man, taking in more of him, he really looks terrible. 

“I think I’m more alive then you are, Tommy Miller,” you say, taking a closer look at him, “you really do look like you fell off a cliff.” 

“You know this guy?” The tone of surprise in Kieran’s voice reflects your own feelings at stumbling across Tommy in a small Wyoming hunting cabin. 

“Yeah, since way back,” you reply, giving Tommy a smile and he seems to breathe a sigh of relief. 

“I think I have about a hundred questions,” he says with a grin, but he winces as he shifts his weight against the wall and you hold up your hand. 

“Let us fix your ankle first, and your hand too I think right?” 

Tommy nods and you ask Kieran for the first aid kit. Tommy grimaces as you carefully pull off the boot on his right foot and peel back his sock. The ankle is swollen and starting to turn purple and you make Tommy move his toes for you. 

“We’ll get you back to Jackson, that’s our town, and have the doctor check on it, but I don’t think it’s broken. I’ll just wrap it up tight for now,” you say, “KIeran, could you see if we can get Tommy up on Aggy, she should be able to carry both me and Tommy, you can take Argento back.” 

Kieran nods and steps back outside as you open the bag and take out the elastic bandage. 

“What about…Frankie?” Tommy asks, hesitating in his question and you smile. 

“He’s good, back home sick as a dog at the moment with a man-cold, but he’s good,” you say, “we both made it and we’re still here, still married,” you grin, starting to wrap his ankle. 

“I always wondered what happened to you two,” he says, “you just disappeared after Pope died, no one knew where you were,”  Tommy looks up at you and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. 

“Joel didn’t tell you?” you ask, securing the bandage with a small knot. 

“What? He didn’t tell me anything,” Tommy looks confused and you sit back on your heels, perplexed. 

“Huh, I thought for sure he’d tell you…Joel helped us, me and Frankie, to get out of the QZ when we left. I told him to not say anything to Benny and Will, but I thought he’d tell you.”

“Will and Benny left with Diana and Eve a few years ago too,” he says, “I’m guessing now you had something to do with that too?” 

You give Tommy a crooked grin, “Yeah, that was us, and I’m happy to report that they’re all in Jackson too, all doing well. Benny and Eve even had a baby two years ago,” you smile and now it’s Tommy’s turn to look surprised. 

“I feel like I’ve missed something important….” he says and you put your hand out to him. 

“I’ll tell you everything on the way home, come on.” 

Kieran’s got Aggy, a large and steady mare, standing outside as you help Tommy to limp through the door. Together you and Kieran get him up on her back and then you mount her too, sitting in front of Tommy. 

“I’m going to assume a Texas boy like you knows how to stay on a horse?” you ask as you gently nudge Aggy forward. 

“Yeah, but it’s been a while,” he says, hooking his good arm around your waist. 

“I wanna ask you about why you’re here,” you say in a low voice, “but I don’t know if you maybe wanna save that story for later?” 

“Uuh…” Tommy hesitates, “yeah, maybe, but what makes you think I don’t wanna talk about it now?” 

“Because you and Joel were inseparable, and now you’re out here alone,” you say, looking over your shoulder at him, “so either something happened between you, or…something happened to him.” 

“Yeah…” Tommy begins but trails off, watching the forest give way to open land, “he’s not dead, as far as I know, but I left him in Boston.” 

“Ok,” you say, letting the subject rest. You’re relieved to hear that Joel isn’t anywhere near Wyoming, you still haven’t forgiven him for what happened to Frankie, even if it was inadvertent. You don’t want him anywhere near Frankie ever again. 

You tell Tommy about Jackson instead, filling him in on how you all ended up there, reluctantly telling him about the radio tower. It’s rarely used, only when someone wants to find a lost relative or loved one, but you leave that part out. 

“There’s Jackson, right up ahead,” you say, pointing across the open plain in front of the main gate that’s looming in the distance. “We all have guard duty, either on the wall or out on patrol, like I was today.” 

“You get a lot of people out here?” he asks, looking up at the wall as you ride closer. 

“In the beginning there were raiders who attacked from time to time, but I think we’ve wiped out any raiders in the area. If any come close, I think they choose to leave us alone, we’re too strong now, haven’t had an attack in years.” 

“What about infected?” Tommy glances over at Cain who’s running alongside Kieran’s horse. 

“Yeah, sometimes, we still have to be careful. But we’re starting to figure out how they move with the seasons,” you say, “and in the winter they’re as snowed in as we are.” 

You ride through the gate, waving to the guards, and carry on down the street towards the clinic. Diana runs it these days, with Eve as one of the nurses, and they spot you as you stop Aggy outside and slide off. Eve comes out first, wiping her hands and squinting up at Tommy with a professional eye and not recognizing him with his cuts and bruises. 

“You look pretty banged up,” she says, “let’s get you checked in and we’ll clean you up.”

“Eve,” you smile, “it’s Tommy Miller, from Boston, Benny’s cousin.” 

Tommy gives an awkward wave as you help him slide off Aggy to land unsteadily on one leg. Eve stares at him in confusion as Diana comes out behind her to see what the new patient needs. 

“Tommy?” she gasps, taking two long steps forward and staring at him with such intensity that he chuckles, holding on to you for balance. 

“Surprise,” he grins, holding out a hand dramatically and Eve giggles, finally finding herself again as she pulls him into a hug. 

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” 

“Long story,” Tommy begins and you cut him off. 

“You’ve got a badly twisted ankle and a sprained wrist, save the story for after Diana has done her thing, please.” 

“Yeah, reunion later, let’s get you taken care of,” Diana says, going into doctor mode, “But it’s good to see you, Tommy. Benny and Will are going to be really happy to have you here.” 

You leave Tommy with Diana and Eve, and take Aggy to the stable before you go and find Benny and Will. They were on patrol too today and should be back already, and you find them both at Benny and Eve’s house, with Benny’s daughter Lily. Benny is feeding her with mixed success while Will watches from across the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, chuckling at his brother’s attempts at convincing the two year old to eat mashed peas. 

“Hi,” you say as you step in after knocking, smiling at Lily who gives you a big grin, pushing her dad’s hand away again.

“Hey, how was the patrol?” Will asks and you can’t help your wide grin. 

“You’ll never guess who I found,” you chuckle as both men look up at you, “Tommy Miller.” 

“What?!” Benny stands up so fast Lily gets scared and immediately starts crying, “our Tommy?” 

“How many ‘Tommy Miller’ do you know, Benny?” you laugh, “Yeah, the one and only. He’s got a sprained ankle and is at the clinic with Diana and Eve. I wanted to let you know so we can go over there straight away.” 

Will is halfway to the door already and Benny quickly picks up Lily, her peas forgotten. 

“How did he end up out here?” Will asks as he pulls on his boots. 

“I don’t know yet, I didn’t know if he wanted to tell the whole story in front of people he doesn’t know, Kieran and Elijah were with me on the patrol.” You take Lily from Benny as he gets his shoes on and the four of you leave the house, walking towards the clinic. 

“He did tell me that Joel is still in Boston, or at least he was when he left. We found him in a small cabin and he’s been pretty banged up. He said he was running from raiders when he fell off a cliff and hurt his ankle.” 

“Shit, he’s lucky to be alive,” Will says, taking long strides and you have to jog to keep up with the two tall men. You soon reach the clinic and walk inside to find Eve manning the small desk set up just inside. Lily immediately reaches for her mom and you hand her over. 

“He’s in the first exam room with Diana,” Eve says as Benny gives her a quick kiss and you follow Will and his brother down the short hallway. The door to the room is open and Will gives the door frame a quick knock before he steps inside with Benny in tow.

“Shit, it really is you!” Benny exclaims as Will takes a few quick steps over to Tommy and gives him a big hug. 

“Man, so good to see you, but how the fuck did you find us all the way out here? Will chuckles and gives Tommy a careful clap on the shoulder before Benny steps in and hugs him. 

“Long fucking story,” Tommy grins, slapping away Benny’s hand as he ruffles Tommy’s long curls. 

“You need a haircut, cuz, how long have you been on the road for?” 

“I lost count, what month are we in now?” Tommy shakes his head and sighs, the grin slipping from his face. 

“May 8th,” Will says, “spring was late this year.” 

“Shit, May already?” Tommy says, rubbing his good hand over his face, “Let’s see, I left Boston March last year, I joined the Fireflies about two years before then, I just had to do something about the way things were going, the QZ is grim,” he grimaces, “and then a group of us transferred to Pittsburgh and from there to Kansas City.” 

“Why’d you leave Joel behind? Will asks and Tommy glances at him before he drops his eyes. 

“You know Joel, how he is after Sarah. He believes in nothing, doesn’t think there’s any point to anything. I couldn’t live like that, so I joined the Fireflies so that I could make a difference at least and Joel didn’t agree with it. Called them a bunch of delusional idiots who were going to get themselves killed, we had a big fight about it,” Tommy sighs again and shakes his head, “It got nasty, we didn’t speak much the last year I was in Boston.” 

“He still smuggling?” Benny asks and Tommy nods. 

“Yeah, he and Tess, risking their lives every time they leave the QZ. They live together now, or they did when I left. I thought maybe she’d soften him a bit but…I don’t know…” Tommy shrugs and looks at you, you’ve furrowed your brow at the mention of Tess’s name, “she’s as broken as he is and she calls the shots, Joel’s her muscle.” 

“He hasn’t changed then?” you ask, still standing at the door, and Tommy shakes his head. “If you’re asking if he still deals drugs, yeah, he does, and he still uses them,” Tommy shakes his head again, “I miss him, he’s my brother, but I had to get away from him.” 

“So what happened to make you leave Kansas City?” Will asks. 

“The Fireflies were setting up a base out in Salt Lake City and I got sent there. But…I guess I was starting to see where Joel was coming from,” Tommy shrugs and looks at Will, “the Fireflies weren’t making any difference, you know? Just creating more violence in the QZ’s, so I was trying to find a way to leave them on the way out to Utah. But then we got attacked by raiders. A few of us got away but they were hunting us, I got caught by one of them and he beat me up a bit. But I managed to knock him out and ran, didn’t stop running for hours I think. And then I fell down that fucking cliff and busted my ankle and wrist,” Tommy waves his bandaged arm and gives a crooked grin, “And I thought I was really done for it when two guys with a huge dog turned up and sniffed me out, but then she walks in, I was sure I was hallucinating.” 

You can’t help but smile, Tommy’s relief is palpable as he grins at you, “If you want to stay, we’ll put in a good word with Maria,” you say, “she’s the head of the board that runs Jackson, we always need more people we can trust.” 

“We should probably head over and tell her about you now, and see where we should house you and see about getting some food for you,” Will nods and gives Tommy a hand up from the exam table as Diana comes back in with a pair of crutches. 

“Food would be amazing,” he replies, “Diana was kind enough to give me some jerky but I can’t remember when I last had a proper meal.” 

“The community hall, where the cantina is, is next door,” Will says, “Let’s get you over there and then we’ll get Maria to come see you, saves you trying to hobble all across town.” 

“I’m going to go home and check on Frankie, I haven’t been back yet,” you step back to let Will help Tommy out through the door of the clinic, “and then I’ll get Maria.” 

“Alright, see you over there,” Will says and you head off back home. 

Frankie is where you left him, in bed, dozing with a book next to him. It doesn’t look like he’s gotten through a single page of it, but he doesn’t look as pale as he did this morning. He’s sleeping peacefully so you go back downstairs and heat up some soup for him. 

Jack tumbles through the door as you’re ladeling it into a bowl, back from school. He turned nine a few months ago and he’s growing into a mischievous little boy, all too willingly helped by his uncle Benny. He goes to the small Jackson community school, run by an elderly, former high school teacher who was brought to Jackson by her son. Jack isn’t the oldest child in Jackson anymore, over the years, small families have found their way here, mainly through sheer luck. But he’s still the only child who’s been here almost since the beginning and to him, Jackson is his entire world. Which is why he so eagerly listens to any stories about the world before the outbreak, you think they might sound like fairy tales to him, his; ‘Once upon a time…’

 To Frankie’s pride, the helicopters he’d given Jack on his first Christmas was a huge success, and stories about Frankie flying were still his favorites. 

“I’m gonna bring up some soup for your dad,” you tell him after he’s given you a hug, “Do you want some?” 

“No, I promised Benny I’d come over and play with Lily while he makes dinner,” Jack says, throwing his school bag on the table and then hanging it on its peg on the wall after a look from you. 

“They’re down at the community center with a new arrival,” you say, “I actually found one of their cousins, Tommy, when I was on patrol today and we brought him back. He’d sprained his ankle so Diana took care of him first and now they’re getting him some food.” 

“Oh, can I go down and see him?” Jack asks, already getting to his feet, always eager to meet any new people in Jackson. 

“Yeah, I thought you might like that,” you grin, “run ahead, I’m going to give Frankie this and see if he’s awake and check how he’s doing.”

“Ok, I’ll see you later!” Jack yells and takes off, slamming the door behind him. You’re pretty sure Frankie will be awake when you go upstairs, thanks to that. Putting the soup on a tray with a glass of water and some bread, you take it upstairs and gently push the door to the master bedroom open. 

“Hey,” Frankie says in a sleepy voice, “patrol go ok?” It’s always his first question whenever you come back, his worry less now but still always simmering when you leave Jackson without him. 

“Yeah, better than ok,” you say, putting the tray on the bedside table and smiling at him, “Elijah and Kieran found a man in a cabin, lightly injured after running from raiders, and I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw him,” you pause for dramatic effect and Frankie raises his eyebrows, “It was Tommy Miller,” you grin, “just sitting on the floor of a cabin a few miles from Jackson.” 

“Tommy Miller?” Frankie's eyes widen in surprise and then you see the flash of worry that you’d felt and you’re not surprised about his next question, “And Joel?” 

“Not here, Tommy left him back in Boston.” 

“Oh,” Frankie says, his face slipping into a tired smile, “did you tell Benny and Will yet?” 

“Yeah, I took Tommy to Diana first and then told them, they’re with him now,” you reply and sit down next to Frankie on the bed, putting your hand on his forehead, “How are you feeling baby? You look a little bit better but you still seem tired.” 

“A little bit better, I think the fever broke, but I’m really tired,” he leans into your palm as you caress his cheek, running your thumb over his small bald patch. 

“I brought some soup, you didn’t eat anything all day did you?” 

“No, I slept most of the time,” he yawns and leans his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I was having weird dreams, you turned blue, and then butterflies landed on you and Jack kept telling me it was perfectly normal for this time of year.” 

You chuckle lightly, running your fingers through his tangled curls, trying to smooth them out, as Frankie sighs and pulls you down onto the bed so that he can curl into you. 

“How about some food, Frankie?” you say softly, still stroking his hair. 

He shakes his head, “Stay with me like this just for a little bit, I missed you,” he tucks his arm in under you and pulls you closer, the tip of his nose buried against your neck, “Tell me what Tommy said,” he mumbles, “how did he get out here?”

You begin to tell him what Tommy had told you, but it doesn’t take long before you hear his breathing slow down and he slips back into sleep. You carefully kiss the top of his head and untangle yourself from his arms, tucking him in again. The soup is left uneaten on the bedside table but you cover it and take it back downstairs. 

You leave Frankie sleeping and walk down to the community center, where Tommy is just polishing off his second bowl of stew while he chats with Will and Benny. Maria sits next to them and as you walk over they all laugh at something Tommy says. Maria is smiling and looking at the newest Miller with a look you haven’t seen on her before. 

“Hi,” you greet them all and sit down next to Jack who’s also at the table, mopping up his own stew with some bread, “Frankie says hello Tommy, but he’s gone back to sleep, he’ll see you when he’s better.”

“How’s Fish doing? Is it just a man-cold or the real deal?” Benny grins and you give him a mock scowl. 

“He’s actually sick, but his fever broke so he’s doing better, just really tired.” 

“The flu has been going around,” Maria says, “Pat and Linda were sick last week too.” She turns back to Tommy and gives him a smile, “So, now you know how things work around here, and we could really use someone like you here too, especially seeing as you’re family to some of our oldest residents, do you want to stay?” 

“Yeah, if you guys will have me, absolutely”, Tommy says, nodding as he looks around the table, “I’d really like to stay, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help out.”

“Tommy used to work in construction before the outbreak,” Will says, “he’ll be a great asset to the building team.” 

“Great, that’s really great,” Maria says and stands up as she smiles at Tommy again, “Will and Benny can show you to the house but it might be easier for you to stay with one of them until you’re healed up.” 

“Thanks, I really appreciate this, Maria,” Tommy says, smiling back at her and you catch Will’s eye as he winks at you with a grin. 

…

Tommy settles in easily, both with Will and Diana, where he stays until his ankle has healed, and in Jackson. You start remembering how easy Tommy was to hang out with at the old bar back in Boston when Joel wasn’t around, as he becomes a regular at Sunday night dinners. It’s only natural that Tommy joins these weekly dinners that you have with the two Miller brothers and their wives, but you’re not surprised when Maria starts coming to them too. The flirting between the two of them is obvious and Will has to slap Benny over the head when he ribs Tommy too hard about it. A few months after Tommy arrived in Jackson, they’re officially a couple and it doesn’t take long before Tommy moves in with Maria and as time moves along, it feels as if he’s always been part of the community, and your worry about Joel lessens. 

…

The short Wyoming summer is already starting to fade as you join Maria on a patrol and hunting trip up towards the foothills of the Rockies a few months later. You’ve stopped up on a ridge that overlooks Jackson for your lunch break, letting your horses graze nearby. Even though you’re on high alert, it’s peaceful up here, and Jackson looks like any small settler town down on the plain. 

“I’m glad you could come with me on this patrol,” Maria suddenly says, looking over at you, “I wanted to talk to you about something that might be sensitive.” 

“Sounds serious,” you reply, handing her one of the sandwiches from your pack. 

“Hopefully not,” she shakes her head, “but I don’t know if you know, Tommy asked to use the radio to contact his brother back in Boston, to let him know that he’s alive, which I was fine with and he talked to him last week.” 

You feel your skin go cold as you continue to look down at Jackson and Maria seems to sense the shift. 

“I told him not to say where he was, too much of a risk of someone listening in, but I saw no harm in him talking to his brother. But I can see that you think differently,” Maria pauses and keeps her eyes on you. 

“How did you know I’d have an opinion about who Tommy talks to?” you ask, turning to meet her gaze. 

“Will,” she replies, “Tommy told him he’d talked to Joel and Will came to me afterwards and said I should talk to you.” 

You nod and look back out towards Jackson, it still looks peaceful but it’s like you can feel Joel drawing closer. 

“Is there something in Tommy’s background that I need to know about?” Maria asks and you inhale, slowly letting the air slip out again as you look down at the toes of your boots before turning fully to Maria. 

“I’m only telling you mine and Frankie’s story, Tommy has to tell you his part with Joel, that’s not for me to say anything about,” you begin and look up at her, and she nods, so you continue 

“You know Frankie was in the army for years before the outbreak, with Will and Benny, that’s how they met” you begin, “They all have different scars from those days, and they’ve all handled them differently. Frankie, unfortunately, had really bad PTSD, and he didn’t handle it in the best way….” you sigh and glance back at Jackson, it feels like you’re betraying Frankie by telling Maria but she needs to know if you’re to protect him from Joel getting to Jackson, because of course, Tommy wants his brother here too. 

“Frankie developed a drug addiction,” you say, looking back at Maria who raises her eyebrows.

“Your Frankie?” she says with surprise, “he’s the last person I would think had a drug problem, he doesn’t even get tipsy at the bar.” 

“That’s the reason, he knows too well how easily he falls into it,” you reply, “and when I met him he’d gotten past that. He told me everything, the PTSD, the drugs, how he really hit rock bottom, and how he pulled himself together again. He’d put his life back together again when we met.” 

“Good for him, that’s not easy,” Maria says as she pours you both tea from a thermos and you take the mug she holds out. 

“Yeah, he had a lot of help from his friends, from Benny and Will, but mostly from a man called Santiago, you’ve probably heard about him.” 

“Yeah, you guys mention him sometimes, he’s the one you call ‘Pope’ right?” 

You nod, the usual twinge of grief in your heart as you think about Santi, “That’s him. He let Frankie sleep on his couch when he was at his lowest, lost his job, his apartment, he had nothing left, and Santi kept him afloat. And then Frankie’s girlfriend at the time got pregnant, and with Pope’s help, Frankie managed to get clean so that he could be a good dad for the baby, a girl called Lucía.” 

Maria sighs and you see a shade of a grief pass over her face, “Since she didn’t come to Jackson with you, I guess she didn’t make it?” 

You turn back to look at Jackson, rubbing a hand over your face. Certain memories from the past eighteen years are harder to look back on than others and as the scenes from the roadside outside Franklin floats up into your mind, tears well up and you swallow hard before you speak. 

“She died on one of the first days. Frankie and I were trying to get to her, she was staying with her mom on outbreak day, but we were too late. It broke Frankie,” you say, your voice unsteady as you drag the heel of your hand over your eyes, “And I know you understand.” 

You’d seen Maria’s little shrine to her son Kevin in her house, and noted how Tommy had added Sarah to it a little while ago. 

“I’m sorry,” Maria reaches out and puts her hand on your arm, “I didn’t realize he had a daughter too.” 

“He never talks about her to others, not even Jack knows, Frankie’s gonna tell him when he’s a bit older. But losing her, and then working for FEDRA, triggered his PTSD again. He was in bad shape and it was harder getting out of it this time, I had to try so hard…” you shake your head and Maria sits silently next to you until you draw a deep breath and continue. 

“Eventually we made it to Boston, we’d met Tommy and Joel just before we got there so we all arrived together and Frankie and the others started working together as smugglers, without me.” 

“You knew Tommy and Joel before the outbreak right?” Maria asks and you nod. 

“I met them once, we spent a fourth of July weekend together, so I didn’t know them well. But Joel, back then, he was a nice guy. Great with both his daughter and Lucía, seemed much more on top of things than Tommy,” you smile and Maria chuckles. “But after Sarah and ten years after the outbreak…he was very different. Not the same man at all,” you say, “He doesn’t seem to care about anyone except maybe Tommy. And the worst thing was, he brought out the worst in Frankie, Joel had no qualms about using violence to get what he wanted or needed, and it rubbed off on Frankie. Frankie’s not a violent man, none of them are, but they can be very violent when they have to. And Joel gave Frankie the permission to be as violent as possible…”

 You stop for a minute, gathering your thoughts as you remember the darkest days in Boston. 

“Frankie’s PTSD got bad, it was never really gone, not after Lucía, but it got really bad when he worked with Joel. And then Joel found a guy that could supply drugs,” you look over at Maria, “You probably don’t know, but because of Frankie’s addiction, Will, Benny and Pope were dead set against dealing any kind of drugs when they were smuggling. But Joel didn’t have the same reservation. And Frankie got addicted again…” 

“And Joel supplied them to him?” 

“Yeah, he did, but in Joel’s defense, he was using them too and he didn’t know Frankie used to be addicted. And when Frankie told him, Joel cut Frankie off and stopped selling to him. But there was another smuggler, Tess, that Tommy and Joel started working with, and she continued to sell to Frankie. And now, apparently, they’re pretty tight. Tommy said they’re living together, but…listen, Maria,” you turn back to her, taking your eyes off the view as you take hold of her hand to make your point crystal clear, “I do not want Joel Miller in Jackson. I’m sorry he lost his daughter, but he’s not a good man anymore, and if he comes here, I’m scared what he’ll bring with him and what it’ll do to Frankie.” 

Maria nods and holds your hand tight, “I agree with you, I only know Joel from what Tommy has already told me, but it’s enough for me to know that we don’t want someone like him here, even though Tommy loves him.” 

“But Tommy talked to him already?” 

“Yeah, but only to let him know that he’s alive and well, I told him not to tell Joel where we are.” 

“Sean knows what radio tower we’re broadcasting from, so Joel will know Tommy’s in Wyoming.” You get to your feet, nerves starting to grate on your limbs and you need to move so you pace along the ridge. 

“Maybe you should talk to Tommy?” Maria suggests, “make sure he knows you’re worried what’ll happen if Joel comes here.”

“And tell Tommy he can’t see his only living family member again?” You look at Maria and shake your head, “I can’t do that, much as I don’t want Joel here.” 

“Then talk to him and just tell him how you feel at least, Tommy knows what kind of man Joel is, he might come to the same conclusion as you, without you having to tell him.” 

“You think he’ll listen to that?” 

“Maybe, Tommy loves Joel but he did tell me about what the two of them used to do as smugglers, and he knows I think Joel was a dark influence on him. I think he’ll see it the same way for Frankie.”

“Yeah, ok, if you think he’ll understand,” you reply as Maria starts packing up the lunch. 

“He will, Joel was a big influence on him, but he’s been away from him for a long time now, he’ll understand.” 

…

You and Maria make it back to Jackson early in the evening and you drop off the rabbits you’ve managed to snare at the butches, bringing home some fresh deer meat in exchange. Jack is at the kitchen table as you come through the door and Frankie is peeling potatoes. From the conversation you can hear drifting out into the hall, Jack is trying to understand how the dam that supplies the electricity works, and Frankie is going through the different steps as you walk in. 

“Hey mom,” Jack says as you press a kiss to the top of his head, before putting the meat in the fridge. Frankie wipes his hands and pulls you into his side with an arm around your waist, tilting your head up with a hand on your cheek so that he can kiss you. 

“Welcome home, hermosa,” he mumbles as Jack makes retching noises in the background and you giggle. Jack’s at the age where any sign of physical affection between adults is the most embarrassing thing ever and Frankie loves teasing him about it. Wrapping both arms around you he buries his face against your neck and places loud, smacking kisses all along your throat as you try to fight him off, laughing at Jack’s loud protests behind you. 

“Nooo, stop,” he wails, “that’s so icky!” 

You can feel Frankie shaking with laughter under your hands as you finally manage to push him off. You’re laughing too and Jack shakes his head in the most indignant way as you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop the laughter. 

“C’mon Jack,” Frankie grins, “before you know it you’ll be desperate to kiss Simona, just give it a few more years, you’ll be asking Benny for advice.”

“Noooooo,” Jack howls and buries his head in his arms, “I’m not listening!”  

You slap Frankie’s chest but you’re still smiling, “Don’t send him to Benny for girl advice, Frankie!” 

“Fine, you can come to me for advice, Jack. I clearly know what I’m doing,” he grins at you and you have to roll your eyes at his mischievous smile. 

“I’m still not listening,” Jack mumbles from under his arms. 

“It’s fine, Jack, you can come out, I won’t let him kiss me again,” you laugh and Jack’s head pops up as you swat away Frankie’s grabby hands and he gives you a look as if you’ve just kicked his puppy.

“Mujer malvada,” he pouts, going back to the potatoes in the sink and you stick your tongue out at him before you start cleaning the fish that’s going to be dinner.  

“Have I told you how I met your mom, Jack?” Frankie asks, looking over his shoulder at the boy, who shakes his head.

“It better not be gross,” he says, “if it’s gross, I’m leaving.” 

“No, I promise, nothing gross, but I was at this bar with Benny, Will and Pope and she came in with some friends and I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen,” Frankie winks at you and you’re not surprised to feel butterflies in your stomach even now as he smiles softly. 

“I was trying to be sly and look at her without her noticing, but she saw me straight away and I got all shy, didn’t know what to do with myself,” Frankie chuckles at the memory of the night at The Outback Bar. “And then Pope saw that I was looking at her and he started staring and then Benny and Will turned around and looked too and your mom got all nervous and- “ 

“I did not!” you protest laughing, “I suddenly had four big guys staring at me from across the bar, it was a bit disconcerting, but I was not nervous!” 

“You were totally nervous because we were checking you out, but you only had eyes for me, hermosa,” Frankie smiles. 

“It’s getting gross!!” Jack warns from the table and it makes you both laugh again. 

“So Pope said I should go and ask for her number, but I was too shy, I didn’t think someone like her would want to talk to me,” Frankie smiles at you again and you give him a wink before going back to the fish. 

“Wait,” Jack says, “what number? Why did you need a number from her?” 

“So back before the outbreak we had telephones, kinda like radios, but every telephone had a unique number and if you dialed it, you got to that specific telephone. So I wanted the number for her telephone so that I could call and talk to her,” Frankie explains and Jack nods. He’s used to things from before the outbreak needing to be explained and it constantly amazes you how normal he seems to think this world is, but of course, it’s the only world he’s known. 

“So I was too shy to go ask for her number,” Frankie says, “But Pope bet me money that I wouldn’t have the guts to do it, and that made me go up and talk to her.” 

“And then I wouldn’t give him my number,” you laugh, “he came up to me just as they were closing the bar and I didn’t want to give my number to this random guy, even though he was kinda cute.” 

“I was devastated, Jack!” Frankie says, throwing his arms out for dramatic effect and making Jack giggle, “She was so beautiful and had this amazing smile and I really wanted to get to know her but she just turned me down and then she and her friends were leaving.” Frankie looks over at you with a tender smile, “It was like electricity when you looked at me across the bar, hermosa, and then you broke my heart.” 

“So what happened?” Jack asks, interested against his will, leans forward on the table. 

“I had to go back to Pope and tell him I didn’t get her number and he was nice enough to not tease me too much about it,” Frankie says, smiling at the memory, “And then we left the bar, I was going to drive everyone home, and as we were walking across the parking lot I hear someone call my name, and I turn around.” Frankie’s finished with the potatoes and places them on the stove and turns it on before sitting down at the table next to Jack. “She was walking towards me across the lot and I was rooted to the spot like a fool,” he chuckles, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck as he looks up at you, “But Pope, he gave me a shove and made me move, so we met in the middle and she asked me for my phone and then she gave me her number.” 

“And then I kissed you,” you say from the counter, wiping your hands clean from the fish as you smile at him. 

“And then you kissed me,” Frankie says, and his eyes soften as he meets yours, “And I was a goner, I think I fell in love with you right there.” 

“Gross,” Jack says, breaking the spell and Frankie laughs, reaching out and pulling you down on his lap. 

“Not gross at all, it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he smiles and Jack shoves his chair back from the table. 

“I’m leaving,” he announces and you hear him thunder up the stairs, “I’m gonna get my bag and toothbrush!”

“His toothbrush? Were we that gross today?” you ask, confused, and Frankie chuckles. 

“He’s sleeping over at Mike and Jesse’s place, he asked me when he got back from school and since it’s a Friday, I said ok and we get the house to ourselves tonight…” Frankie’s hand slides up to grip the back of your neck and pull you closer, brushing his nose against yours before he gently kisses you. 

“Did you already make plans?” you smile between Frankie’s soft kisses and he nods. 

“Dinner and then an early night I think, I definitely need to lay down and be in a horizontal position for most of the evening, and I think you should join me.” 

“You’re such a dork, Francisco Morales,” you say, cupping his cheek with your hand as you feel him grin against your lips. 

“I love it when you use my full name, I know I did good when that happens,” he kisses you again but you hear Jack come thundering down the stairs so you pull back and stand up. 

“You’ve got everything?” you ask him as he comes into the kitchen and he holds up his backpack and pillow. 

“Yeah, I think so,” he says and you bend down and give him a hug and a kiss. 

“Have fun sweetie, don’t let Jesse scare you and Mike with ghost stories again ok?” 

“I’m not scared of those anymore mom,” he protests, “they’re not real.” 

“Alright then, good to know,” you laugh as Frankie comes over and gives Jack a hug too. 

“Sleep well, gordito, see you tomorrow morning.” 

“Ok, see ya tomorrow!” 

Jack wriggles out of Frankie’s tight hug and gives you a big grin and disappears out through the front door. Frankie immediately takes your hands and puts them up around his neck so that he can wrap his own around your waist. 

“I have plans, hermosa,” he smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Dinner first, Morales,” you say, making him walk backwards to the kitchen where the potatoes are boiling on the stove, “but then you’ve got free range, you can fuck me however you want, come wherever you want…” you trail off, placing a kiss on his soft lips as he groans. 

“You’re killing me, cariño.”  

…

“Let me hear it, bebita, please,” Frankie growls, digging his fingers into your thigh, holding you open as you arch your back and choke back a moan, “The house is empty, you know I love hearing what I do to you.” 

“Oh god, Frankie…” you pant as he bends his head back to your heated clit and circles his tongue around it again, “pleasepleaseplease,” you plead, fingers grabbing his curls to urge him on. You hear him groan into you as he tightens his grip on your hips, licking and sucking, his nose slipping through your folds as he lets his tongue taste you. His hips are grinding into the bed, seeking any relief. You know he’s rock hard and leaking, he’s groaning into your soft heat, lapping at your opening as you writhe underneath him. 

He’s taken his time tonight, he only rushed you upstairs after dinner, slowing down as he got you to the bedroom. Asking you to take your clothes off slowly, one item at a time while he watched. You’d seen him grow hard, palming himself through his jeans, a mischievous smile making his mouth twitch as you pulled your t-shirt over your head, letting your hands skim over your breasts on the way down to your pants. 

When he had you naked and lying back on the covers, he pulled his own shirt off and climbed up between your legs, pushing them apart with his knees. Sinking back on his heels he took his time looking over your body, his warm palms skimming over your legs, caressing the soft skin on the inside of your thighs. When finally made space for his wide shoulders between your legs, you were moaning, begging him to touch you where you needed it the most. 

Now he’s lazily letting his tongue flick across your clit, holding you open with one hand as his other begins to tease your opening, one thick finger sliding in, your arousal letting him push it in with no resistance. 

“Fuck…Frankie…” you keen, “more, give me more…” and he chuckles, you can feel the vibrations across your heated skin as you try to press your core closer to his mouth, his fingers. 

“Relax, bebita,” he mumbles, his lips brushing over your clit with every word, his tongue lapping over it again, making you whimper, “we have all night.” 

But he pulls out his finger, and slides two back in, curling them as he pushes deep and then out, slowly. Setting a steady pace, he knows exactly how to make your back arch as he holds your hips down with a heavy arm over your belly, fingers and tongue working together to make you come undone. You can feel your muscles tighten as your mind unravels, all there’s room for is how he makes you tremble and whimper, trying to remember how to breathe. 

You grab hold of his curls, twisting your fingers around them, pulling him closer. When you glance down you see him looking up your body, dark eyes watching your chest heave as you gasp for air. 

“Frankie…” you moan, dropping your head back onto the pillow, the sight of him, your legs spread wide around his shoulders, too much to handle as he curls his fingers back and increases his rhythm. You hear him mumble against your skin, incoherent words that pulls your coil tighter. 

He’s pushing your leg up, moving to give himself more leverage, leaving your clit for a moment to lick a broad stripe up from where his fingers are knuckle deep, to the very apex. He feels your pussy start to clamp down harder around him and he knows you’re close. Glancing up at you again he seals his lips around the swollen button and pulls it into his mouth, making you cry out, tightening your fingers in his hair. He doesn’t let up, moaning into you, his fingers finding every nerve ending as they slide through the silky heat. He pushes himself up on his knees, groaning as the movement makes his pants rub against the aching head of his cock, but the new position lets him spread you open, gives him more leverage and he uses it to increase the pressure on your clit. 

Your mouth falls open, strangled cries escaping as the coil tightens in every muscle. You can feel him grab your thigh, his fingers digging in as he holds himself together, intent on making you topple over the edge. Forcing your eyes open you look down at him, on his knees, the dark curls on the top of his head brushing over your belly as he buries his face between your legs. He’s growling into you and as he quickly slips in a third finger, stretching you open, his tongue flicking hard over your clit, you feel yourself explode. 

“Frankie, fuck…d-don’t… “ You close your eyes against the onslaught, colors dancing behind your eyelids as his movements continue to shoot electricity through your muscles, thick fingers keeping you open, his shoulder forcing your legs to spread wide as his tongue laps across, and then around, your overwrought bundle of nerves. 

He feels your grip on his hair loosen, the muscles in your legs go limp around him, and he slowly gives your clit a final, soft, kiss, his fingers slipping out. You’re gasping for air as he leans his head against the plush inside of your thigh, relishing in the softness of the flesh and the sight in front of him. He can feel the heat coming from your folds, puffy and shining, slick with your arousal and his saliva, and as he lets his eyes trail up your body he meets your drowsy eyes. 

“You back with me?” he smiles, giving your thigh a soft kiss. 

“Just about,” you smile back at him, “I lost a few seconds there.” You reach down and take his hand, tugging slightly on it, “Come here, take those pants off and fuck me, Francisco Morales.” 

He groans at your words, his cock twitching and reminding him of how painfully hard it is, and he lets your fumbling fingers open the buttons when he reaches your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, smell it on his beard, it’s slick against your cheek when he slides his tongue into your mouth. 

“Got..got to get ‘em off…” he mutters, struggling to keep kissing you and push the stubborn jeans down his legs. He groans as the rough denim scrapes across his cock tenting in the soft cotton of his boxers.

“Oh fuck it,” he snaps and pushes himself up off the bed and you can’t help but laugh as he stumbles back, tugging at his pants, kicking them off his feet and rushing to crawl up the bed to you again. 

“I need to fuck you so badly now,” he growls, grabbing your hand and moving it down between your bodies, making you close your fingers around him. He’s hot and velvety to the touch, you love the feel of him like this, so hard you can feel every ridge and vein, every twitch as your hand caresses the heavy weight of his cock. 

He moans into your mouth, hips thrusting into your hand, and you guide the head to brush across your clit, gathering the slick that still coats you. The feel of him across your sensitive clit makes you shiver as he moans again, a low rumble coming from deep inside him. He drops his head against your shoulder, pushing your legs apart with his hips, letting you guide him inside. 

“Always so good, cariño,” he mutters, pushing his thick length in, inching it deeper with shallow thrusts, “always so fucking good, bebita.” 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you take him deep, as he tries to hold himself up over you, but you pull him down. He always thinks he’s too heavy on top, but you love to feel him over you, his hot skin sliding against yours, crushing you down into the bed, wide shoulders and arms caging you in underneath him. 

“I want you closer Frankie,” you mumble, your arms around his shoulder, tangling your fingers in the long curls at the back of his neck, pulling him down, “I love feeling you weighing me down.” 

You reach up and find his lips, feeling him breath into your mouth as he starts thrusting into you, grunting, panting hard. “Love looking up and seeing only you above me, only you Frankie,” you whisper and he whimpers, you can feel him stutter and pick up his speed, moaning into you.

“You feel so good, baby,” you kiss his open mouth, “make me feel so good, so full, so fucking full of you, so thick, so hard.” 

You wrap your legs tighter around him, rocking up to meet his thrusts, “Fuck me harder Frankie, you feel so good like this,” you’re mumbling against him, your hands holding him close to you, he’s panting, groaning and every sound you pull from him makes your own arousal build again. 

As he changes his angle, you moan, squeezing your eyes shut, he’s hitting something deep inside that shoots sparks through your limbs. 

“You’re gonna make me come again, please, make me come again…” you can’t stop yourself from crying out as he sinks his teeth into your lip, his dark eyes glinting above you. 

He’s moving faster, pushing himself deeper, each thrust grazing over your clit, sending sharper sparks through your body with each pass. 

“Come on then,” he growls, almost an order, “come for me again and I’ll fuck you so full, cariño, I’m so…fuck…close,” he groans, his rhythm faltering and it hits you like a truck, your body tries to arch up against him, his weight keeping you pressed against the bed as you cry out, almost a sob, digging your fingers into his shoulders. 

Frankie’s breath catches in his throat, through your own haze you hear him shout, he’s grinding into you, groaning loudly into your ear as he struggles to hold himself up under the onslaught of his climax, his groans turns to whimpers and you pull him down on top of you, not caring about his heavy weight. 

His face is pressed against your shoulder, and he turns his head, drawing a deep breath as he feels your pulse race under the delicate skin on your throat. He looks at the way it thrums, your breathing slowing down as you relax under him, your body soft and pliant. Your fingers move from his shoulders, he knows he’ll feel marks there tomorrow, and up into his hair, caressing slowly through the tangled curls, scratching his scalp. 

He hums, melting into you, he knows he should move, get his weight off you, but you're warm, soft, like velvet under him, and his body doesn’t want to shift. Instead he presses himself closer, his nose skating across your jaw, lips against the soft skin by your ear. 

“Tell me to move,” he mumbles, breathing against you and he sees you shake your head, your fingers holding him tight, passing through his hair and sending delicate shivers down his spine. 

“Don’t move, stay,” you whisper, cupping the back of his head with your hand. 

He draws a deep breath, listening to the silent house, your breathing, your heartbeat under his ear, the soft scrape of your nails against his scalp. 

“If this is the rest of my life, I will die the happiest man in the world,” he says, his voice low, not wanting to disturb the peace. He sees corners of your mouth quirk up in a lazy smile as you turn and kiss the tip of his nose, the only part of him you can reach. 

“Have I made you happy?” he asks, voice still low and quiet. He knows the answer, has known it for years now, but sometimes he still wants to hear you say it. 

“Always, Frankie, you always make me happy,” you smile, shifting under him so that you can look at him, your eyes softening as you lean your forehead against his, “Have I made you happy?” 

“More than anything, hermosa, amor de mi vida, you make me happy every day,” he says, brushing his lips against yours, pressing a soft kiss there, keeping his lips close to your mouth, sharing breaths. 

….

It’s a rare morning the next day, waking up when you want to, not when the old shrill alarm clock wakes you. Or actually, this morning you wake up when you feel Frankie shift behind you, his warm body pressing closer to you, his heavy arm pulling you just that little bit tighter. He’s not even awake yet, his even breathing tickling the back of your neck as he stirs, even in his sleep making sure you’re near him. 

You let yourself wake up gently, relishing in the feeling of being warm in bed with Frankie, safe, happy, nowhere you need to go today at least. Frankie’s hand is resting on your chest, between your breast, and you trace soft patterns with your fingertips on the back of it. Slowly he wakes up, burying his nose into your hair and breathing deeply, groaning as he stretches out behind you. 

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice low and heavy with sleep. 

“Morning, my love,” you say, turning in his arms so that you can see him. He gives you a sleepy smile and cups your cheek with his hand. 

“Have you been awake long?” He asks and you shake your head. 

“Just a little bit, I was enjoying the peace and quiet. And you were so warm and nice, my Frankie shaped furnace,” you smile and give the tip of his nose a peck, making him wrinkle it with a grin, “Did you sleep well?” you ask. 

“Yeah, like a log, no nightmares, no bad dreams,” he replies, his thumb caressing your cheek, tracing along your nose, under your eyes and following the line of your jaw to your chin, “slept like a baby.” 

His nightmares are almost rare these days, but you still ask, you always want to know and he knows why, he’s never going to hide anything from you again. 

He shifts, his hand slipping over your shoulder, down along your body until he can cup his large hand over your ass and pull you closer. It makes you smirk and he chuckles. 

“How do you feel about morning sex, cariño,” he grins, grabbing your thigh and hooking it over his hip. His half hard cock is already making itself known and it makes you give an involuntary shiver as your hips buck into his. 

“I’d be very interested in morning sex,” you smile, leaning forward to capture his sleep warm lips in a kiss, ignoring the morning breath. He hums into your mouth and grinds his hips in between your legs, dragging his rapidly stiffening cock over your clit in a move that makes you moan. 

A door slams downstairs and you hear Jack’s clear voice echo through the house. 

“I’m back! I got eggs from Jesse!” 

Frankie groans and you sigh, much as you love your son, his timing is unbelievably bad. 

“We’ll be right there, honey!” You call over Frankie’s shoulder. He groans again, grinding into you harder this time. 

“I can be real quick and quiet, you know that,” he growls, grabbing your hips and you laugh, pushing him away. 

“Raincheck, Frankie, we can always take a shower later,” you smile, kissing him as you pull away from his grabby hands. 

“I’m taking that as a promise,” he grins, rolling out of bed and grabbing his pants and following you downstairs. 

“Morning sweetie,” you say to Jack, kissing his cheek, “did you have fun?” 

“Yeah, we played this old game called Twister, do you know it?” he asks. 

“The one with the mat and you have to put arms and feet on the right markers? Yeah, I used to play when I was little.” 

“Jesse traded for one and we played it all night, it was so much fun!” Jack’s out of the chair and demonstrating on the floor how he contorted his body to reach the markers, “I want one too!”

“I could probably make you one,” Frankie says from the stove, “it wouldn’t be hard.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I’ll see what supplies I have, I know I have paint already.” 

“Can I help?” Jack asks as you start putting away the eggs that he’s handed you. 

“Sure, do you want to do it today?” Frankie ruffles Jack’s hair, “And give me a hand with breakfast, did you eat already?”

“Yeah, I ate there. Can we do it when you’ve had breakfast?” 

“Unless your mom has plans for us?” Frankie hooks his arm around your waist and puts his chin on your shoulder, “Any plans for us, cariño?” he grins, giving you a quick wink. 

“No, no plans at all actually,” you give him a mock scowl before kissing the tip of his nose with a smile. 

…

The conversation you had with Maria sticks in your head after Frankie leaves. You haven’t told him about it yet and part of you wants to protect him from having to worry about Joel. You bounce it back and forth in your head, going from wanting to ignore the whole thing to trying to convince yourself that the chances of Joel showing up are slim. But then you remind yourself that if Benny and Will, and Tommy, could make the trek across the country and find Jackson, so could Joel. Joel is nothing if not persistent. 

In the end, you decide that you have to talk to Tommy, at least for your own peace of mind. 

You seek him out at home when you know Maria is busy with a town meeting, knocking on their front door. He answers with a smile and opens the door wide, inviting you in.

“Hey, good to see you! Maria’s not in if it’s her you’re looking for,” he says and leads you into the kitchen. 

“No, I know she’s at the town meeting, I actually came to see you,” you say, deciding to get straight to the point. 

“Alright, what’s up? And do you want some tea? I was just going to make some,” he replies, holding up a mug to you. 

“Thanks, tea would be great,” you sit down at the kitchen table and tap on the surface with your nails, gathering your thoughts. 

“So what’s up? Seems serious, you look pretty tightly wound,” Tommy turns to you after putting a kettle to boil. 

“I don’t know how to start, Tommy, I feel a bit shitty about bringing this up with you, but…” you shift on your chair, leaning back and Tommy furrows his forehead as you fidget. 

“I talked to Maria, and she told me you talked to Joel on the radio,” you eventually say, watching Tommy take out another mug and tea, “And you know how bad Frankie was in-”

“You’re worried Joel’s gonna come out here,” Tommy says, and it’s not a question, “And get Frankie back into trouble.” He pours the boiling water into the mugs and sits down opposite you at the table. 

You shift again uncomfortably but Tommy doesn’t look mad or disappointed, he’s just nodding slightly, looking down at his own mug. 

“I’m sorry, Tommy, I know he’s your only family,” you begin but Tommy shakes his head. 

“I know maybe more than you think,” he says, “Benny told me pretty much everything, I think he’s worried about Joel turning up here too. So I know the part my brother played in Frankie’s drug addiction.” 

“It’s not just that, Tommy,” you reply, leaning forward and holding onto the mug, “besides, the drugs don’t worry me so much, I doubt anyone could find drugs out here anyway. But Joel is violent.” 

You see Tommy’s shoulder’s drop forward, like he’s hunching, as he gives you a small nod, “I know, it came out after Sarah.” 

“It gets to Frankie too, Joel’s anger rubs off on him, Tommy. And Frankie knows how to be very violent, maybe even more than Joel, and with his PTSD, the fucking leftovers from Delta…” you shake your head, sighing, “When we were in Boston, Frankie behaved in ways I’ve never seen from him, when he was working with Joel. And Joel…he sees it like it’s the only way to do things, to survive, and he encouraged Frankie, saw it as he was doing the only right thing.” 

“You know Maria doesn’t want him here either, right?” Tommy asks, “I told her about how Joel and I had been surviving since the outbreak and she doesn’t think what we did was right, says we could’ve made different choices.” 

“But Joel never saw it that way,” you reply and Tommy nods in agreement. 

“No, he never did, he was barely surviving, after Sarah, and he just hardened. I never questioned if what we did was right, we did it to survive and he was the only family I had so I followed him. Blindly maybe. 

“And he hasn’t changed? Since Frankie and I left Boston I mean,” you ask. 

“No, if anything he’s more ruthless than ever. We started working with Tess, Frankie introduced us to her, did you know that?” 

You nod, Frankie had told you everything that had happened those last few months in Boston, how he got drugs after Joel stopped selling to him. 

“She can be as ruthless as Joel, whatever it takes to survive, and it turned out they were kinda the same, maybe like with Frankie and Joel,” Tommy drains his mug of tea and gives you a crooked smile. “It took me a while to pick up on it, but they must’ve started something pretty soon after we met her. I only found out when I realized she’d moved in with him, that they were sleeping together.” 

“It’s hard to imagine Joel caring for anyone but himself and you,” you say, “it sounds horrible to say it, but he’s so different from who he was when I met him before the outbreak, I can’t see him loving anyone.”  

Tommy shrugs, “I don’t know if he loves Tess, if he’s even capable of that anymore, losing Sarah, it took it all out of him. Maybe she’s just in his sphere, someone he needs to protect, like he used to protect me.” 

“Has it changed him, being with Tess I mean?”

“I was hoping it would change him, soften him at least a little, but whatever it is they have, Joel is the same on the outside. And things in the QZ were getting worse so when Marlene, she’s the leader of the Boston Fireflies, approached me, I wasn’t hard to convince…” Tommy leans back in his chair, sighing deeply, “Joel got really mad when he found out I joined them, we had a big fight, left it on pretty bad terms…” Tommy trails off and looks guilty.

“We didn’t really get past it before I left…” he says after a long pause, “when I told him I was leaving with the Fireflies he just just shrugged and said I’d always joined every lost cause. Maybe he’s right, I don’t know. But I know he was mad at me for leaving, but I couldn’t stay and do nothing.” 

“At least you tried to make a difference, Tommy, even if the Fireflies weren’t right for you,” you say, giving Tommy a small smile, he seems to be feeling guilty about leaving Joel but you think it was probably for the very best, at least Tommy. 

“I’ve got to ask though…” you hesitate, “do you think Joel wants to come out here, bring Tess? Because…fuck, that’s my worst nightmare at the moment Tommy.” 

“I won’t tell him anything,” Tommy shakes his head, “And Maria asked me to not contact him again.” 

“She did?” Your eyebrows shoot up and you can’t help the relief that floods your chest, “I didn’t know she was going to do that, I…I’ve got to admit I wanted to but Joel’s your brother-” 

“He’s my brother, and I love him,” Tommy interrupts,”but you met him before the outbreak, he isn’t the same person now, hasn’t been for almost twenty years, and Jackson doesn’t need someone like him, he brings too much violence and he only cares about himself.” 

You nod, leaning back in the creaking kitchen chair, the knot in your stomach is unraveling as you let yourself exhale. 

“I’m sorry it has to be that way,” you say, “but I’m relieved, keeping Frankie, and Jack, safe and happy, is all I care about. Maybe I’m like Joel in that respect, but they’re my family, and to me, Joel’s a threat to them.” 

“You’re nothing like Joel,” Tommy replies, “or maybe, we’re all a bit like Joel, keeping our family safe first, but I know my brother’s ways are too violent. It took me a while to understand that, but here, in this community, it’s clear that there can be another way of keeping family safe.” 

… 

When you get back to your house, Frankie’s already back and you can smell the wood smoke from the fireplace. You’re not surprised when you find him flat on his back on the couch, his cap pulled down over his eyes, snoring softly. As you walk into the room he stirs, pushing it up onto his forehead. Years of being a soldier, and living in this new world, has made him a very light sleeper, the years in Jackson haven’t changed that. Now he’s giving you a sleepy smile as he reaches out for you, pulling you down over him when you take his hand. 

“Hey, cariño,” he says, tucking you into his side so that you can stretch out and put your head on his chest, “I missed you when I got home.” 

“Yeah, I was out,” you say, burying your nose into his soft t-shirt, “I went to see Tommy about something.” 

“Mhmm…” Frankie hums, still sleepy as he runs his hand up and down your back, you can feel his lips against the top of your head. 

“How’s Tommy?” he asks eventually and you have to shift so that you can look up at him, his sleepy brown eyes looking up at you. 

“I went to see him about Joel,” you confess and although you expect Frankie to look confused, he just nods and sighs. 

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about Joel coming here too,” he says, pushing his cap further up so that he can see you properly, “Tommy’s the only family he’s got, I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes out here too.” 

“He won’t,” you say, shaking your head, “Tommy told Maria about what kind of man Joel is and she’s asked him not to talk to him again, to not risk him coming here.” 

“And Tommy’s ok with that?” Now Frankie does look surprised as you nod. 

“Yeah, he’s no fool, he knows what kind of man Joel’s turned into. And they didn’t leave it on the best of terms when Tommy joined the Fireflies. And he doesn’t want him to come here either, he knows the type of violence Joel brings.” 

“Cariño, I don’t think Tommy not talking to Joel is going to stop him if he really wants to find him. If you and I could make it across the country, so can Joel, especially if he’s looking for his only brother.” 

“Frankie, I really don’t want him to come here, he can’t come here, I don’t want him even near us,” you push yourself up to sitting and Frankie follows you, but he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. 

“You’re worried I’ll fall back into the same habits as in Boston,” it’s not a question, but you nod as he rubs his hands up and down your back. 

“You shouldn’t worry, cariño,” he says, “even if he does come, I’m not the same man I was in Boston, I promise.” 

“I know, Frankie, he just scares me, he just…” you trail off but Frankie knows what you’re thinking. 

“I know he brought out the worst in me, cariño, but I’m stronger now. I haven’t used drugs in almost nine years, I’ve got both you and Jack, and a purpose in Jackson that’s more important than any of the shit I did in the QZ’s.” He cups your cheek in his warm palm and caresses the soft skin, “If, and it’s a big if, he comes here, it won’t be the same as last time, I know that, hermosa.” 

You nod into his hand and he gives you a warm smile, “Always looking out for me, still don’t know what I’d do without you, cariño.” 

…

Frankie’s words calm you some, and he’s right of course. He is stronger now than he was before, he’s nothing like the man he was after his daughter died, and life has almost returned to normal for the two of you. It’s only the constant patrols, and people’s scars from life outside of Jackson, that remind you of what surrounds Jackson. But as spring turns into summer and then fall, your fear of Joel showing up lessens. Tommy doesn’t contact him again and he doesn’t turn up. Jackson has turned into a busy small town and life keeps you occupied, before you know it, it’s winter again and the town prepares for its official holiday celebration.

…

“Are you going on patrol tomorrow?” Frankie asks you one afternoon as he comes back home, shrugging out of his thick jacket and stomping the snow off his boots. 

“No, not until Saturday, why?” 

“They’re showing ‘The Goodbye Girl’ at the community center tonight, I thought we could go. I have no idea what the movie’s about but apparently it won an Oscar,” Frankie says, giving you a cold kiss as he comes into the kitchen. 

“You’re freezing, Frankie,” you smile and he rubs the icy tip of his nose against your cheek, making you protest when he moves further down and presses it against your neck. 

“It’s freezing outside, I was chopping wood though, kept me warm,” he grins, his warm hands sliding between your sweater and jeans, “But what do you think, wanna go on a movie date with me and Jack?” 

“Sure, sounds nice,” you say, giving up on stopping him from warming his nose up against your skin, his nose is cold but his breath is warm and sends shivers down your spine, “Beats watching Home Alone for like the hundredth time.” 

“Yeah, the movie selection isn’t great,” Frankie chuckles, “I mean, great movie, but how many times have we seen it now?” 

“We need to figure out where the nearest movie theater is and see what’s available,” you say, “What movies were in theaters on outbreak day?” 

“Uuhh…all I remember is that Pope and I went and saw the re-release of Scarface, that was awesome,” Frankie says as he lets go of you to grab a glass and fill it up with water and you lean on the counter next to him. 

“You and I went and saw ‘Lost in Translation’, that’s the last time we went to the movies before it all.” 

“Oh yeah, that was good too,” Frankie nods, “made me wanna go to Japan. Remember we were planning it, seeing if we’d be able to go someday?” 

You sigh and wrinkle your nose, “Let’s change the subject, now I’m bummed we never got to go to Japan, or even on a proper holiday together.” 

“You wanna sip cocktails on the beach with me, hermosa?” Frankie smiles, coming to stand in front of you at the counter, his hands on either side. 

“I would love to sip cocktails on a beach with you, Frankie,” you smile back at him, wrapping your arms around his neck so that you can card your fingers through the curls on his neck, “see you in a cute little speedo, all nice and tan.” 

Frankie snorts, “When did you ever see me in a speedo?” 

“Never, but a girl can dream,” you grin back at him, “Although, I’m not sure what speedo would be able to contain your…’talent’.” 

“I wanna see you in a bikini again,” Frankie says, his voice taking on a lower tone, “I grieve the loss of that yellow bikini you had…” he gives you a mischievous smile, “any chance of finding something like that at the store?”

“Not much need for bikinis in the apocalypse, Frankie,” you laugh, “but I’ll see what I can do, maybe I can use it for gardening in the summer. But on one condition.” 

“Anything, hermosa…” Frankie has pulled you closer, his mind clearly on the lost yellow bikini as you feel his half hard cock pressing into your belly. 

“You help with the gardening, wearing a speedo,” you grin at him as he laughs. 

“Deal, anything to see you in a bikini again,” he says, smiling down at you, “but I can’t promise we’ll get much gardening done.” 

He bends his head down, letting his nose brush against yours, the tip of it warm again as his hand slips up to hold the back of your neck and his lips press against yours. He deepens the kiss, nudging your mouth open with his tongue as you pull him closer. It’s soft as he licks into you, small touches, tasting him as your breaths mingle. 

He’s so familiar now, the way his hand holds your neck, lightly caressing your hair, his other hand at your waist, fingertips grazing whatever bare skin he can reach. You think you could identify him just by the way his thumb rubs small circles into your waist, his touch seared into your brain just as his taste is. Even his tongue is familiar, and the way the tip of his nose always touches the same spot on your cheek when he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. Your fingers run through his curls, finding the well hidden scar from some old army injury, and down to his neck again. 

He hums into your mouth, his cock pressing hard into your soft belly, heat pooling between your legs, before he reluctantly pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“Wish we had more time, hermosa,” he mumbles, “I need to take a shower and I want to take it with you.” 

“Jack will be home any minute,” you say in a low voice, gently scratching the back of his head, “and I should make some dinner before we go to the movie.”

“Alright, raincheck for tonight then,” he smiles, giving you one more kiss, letting it linger, before he pulls away. 

…

The Jackson community center is full as the movie starts playing, movie night is always popular. Jack managed to snag a seat reserved for the children in the middle of the room, and now he sits engrossed in the images playing out on the large white screen hanging on the wall. Frankie and you are standing by the wall, watching the film through the gaps in the audience as people filter in and out. Frankie, thanks to his height, could have a better view, but he prefers to rest his chin on your shoulder as he stands behind you, hands secure around your waist. You can feel his breath tickle your cheek and you lean against his scruffy jaw, briefly closing your eyes to capture the moment in your mind; the warm community hall, Frankie’s soft beard against your skin, his strong arms around your waist and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat behind you, and all around you the smell of fresh popcorn. 

You open your eyes again and look for Jack, he’s got his elbows on his knees, wide eyes staring at the screen, mouth hanging open as he takes in every detail of the scene in front of him. It makes you smile to see him so enthralled by every movie that gets shown here, and it makes you wish you could show him your own favorites from when you were nine, almost ten, you remind yourself. He’ll be ten in a few weeks.

The film doesn’t capture your imagination as much as it does for Jack so you let your eyes drift across the audience, you spot Will and Diana across the hall, but you can’t see Benny and Eve. You look around the room for them, they usually always turn up, only for Benny to moan about the movie selection as you all walk home together afterwards. 

Searching the room you spot Tommy talking to Maria, her hand on the small swell of her pregnant belly, and something about the conversation makes you stop and look at them. When Tommy turns and walks away Maria sees you, and gives you a smile, but it looks tight. You smile back but in the corner of your eye you see Tommy exit the community hall and disappear outside. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, a shiver running down your spine, and as you look back at the screen, you can’t focus on it. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, turning to give Frankie’s cheek a kiss, “pee break.” He nods and lets you go as you slip through the crowd, avoiding Maria’s eyes. You don’t know why you need to see where Tommy went, but something in your gut tells you to find out, Tommy’s face said something. 

The air outside is cold as you exit the hall. You left your coat with Frankie so you tuck your arms around yourself as you look up and down the street. It’s empty, only fairy lights and snowflakes. Not sure where to go, you turn and walk down towards the stables, the snow whirling around you. 

Nothing stirs and there’s no sign of Tommy as you make your way past the small shops that serve the community. You’re shivering as you reach the stables and the warm smell of horses and manure envelops you as you crack the door open and slip inside. A soft nicker from the horses closest greets you, the large animals stirring and looking in your direction at the intrusion. Finding old Winston, a graying gentleman now, in his stall, you softly rub his muzzle as he blows warm air at your fingers. 

“All quiet here, old friend?” you ask in a low voice, and Winston snorts gently, lowering his head so that you can reach between his ears. 

“Only my ghosts, I guess,” you whisper, leaning your nose against his soft head as you scratch his forelock. He shifts his weight, putting his muzzle on your shoulder and nipping gently at your sweater. The stable is warm and comforting, the smell of horses familiar and safe, but after a few minutes you pull yourself away, giving Winston a final scratch. 

“I’d better get back before Frankie sends out a search party,” you say, giving him a final pat. 

The cold air makes you shiver as you close the stable door behind you and hurry up the street again. You almost don’t see him coming towards you, a tall man, wrapped in a heavy tan coat, but his boot scuffs against the street, making you look up as he passes under one of the street lights. He sees you, as you see him, stopping in his tracks and you freeze in place. There’s no mistaking him, he’s aged, his hair gray now, but it’s still Joel’s sharp eyes that meet yours. His expression grim as you look at each other for a beat, fear starting to coil in the pit of your belly. 

He glances at the side street, up towards the edge of town, and down at his boots, before he looks up at you again. 

“I’m leaving in the morning.” 

It’s all he says, turning and taking long strides up the street as you stand rooted to the spot, nausea creeping up your throat. 

… 

“Where have you been?” Frankie asks as you open the door to the community center, he’s just coming out of the hall, his coat on and yours in hand, “I was just about to go looking for you.” He notices your shivers and quickly holds out your coat for you, pulling it on and starting to rub his hands up and down your arms, “Why were you outside, what’s going on?” 

“Nothing, I just needed some air after I went to the bathroom,” you quickly lie, “I went down to the stables but I didn’t realize how cold it was until I was coming back.” 

“Crazy girl,” he smiles, “getting frostbites just to say hello to Winston, you spoil that horse.” 

“You know I have a soft spot for him,” you say, letting Frankie lead you back into the hall where the movie is still running. You’re glad for the darkness, standing in front of Frankie again as he keeps rubbing warmth back into your arms. Pretending to watch the movie your thoughts are in turmoil.

Joel is in Jackson. 

You glance over at Maria and see her looking at Tommy with an odd look, he’s standing a little bit in front of her, leaning against one of the wooden pillars, turned away from her. You can only see his profile, but he seems to have the same expression that you can feel on your face, watching the big white screen, but seeing nothing. As if he can feel your eyes on him, he turns his head and locks onto you. You should smile, pretend everything is fine, but you know Tommy knows Joel is in town, you can see it on his face, and Maria knows too. And you can’t hide your fear. 

Behind you Frankie laughs at something that happens in the film, his rumble vibrating against your back, and you tear your eyes away from Tommy and look at the screen. 

…

It’s late as you walk home with the rest of the movie goers, Jack almost stumbling on his feet, yawning widely. Frankie can sense that something is going on, but he says nothing. Instead he pulls you closer under his arm, holding on to Jack’s hand with his other. When you get home he sends you upstairs, giving your hip a squeeze. 

“Go to bed, I’ll lock up and make sure Jack gets to bed,” he says and you nod, kissing Jack goodnight. 

You’re tucked into bed, under the warm covers, but not even close to sleepy as Frankie comes into the bedroom and closes the door behind him. He pulls off his clothes as you watch him from the bed, and he pulls back the covers and climbs in next to you. 

“C’mere,” he mumbles, pulling you into him, both his arms encircling you as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. His hand comes up to cup the back of your head, caressing you lightly and you can feel his lips pressed against the top of your head. 

“What’s going on, cariño?” he asks, running his hand up and down your back. 

“Joel’s in Jackson,” you say, and his hand goes still on your back. 

“Did you meet him?” Frankie pulls back a little so that he can see your face and you nod. 

“Just for a moment, on the main street. All he said was that he’s leaving tomorrow.” 

“So soon? He must’ve only gotten here today,” Frankie says, sounding surprised, “I heard some of the guys saying a couple of people had been picked up by Maria’s patrol today.” 

“Do you think Maria said he can’t stay?” you ask, “Could Tommy be leaving too? She was looking at him oddly at the movie, just before he left.” 

“Is that why you snuck out?” Frankie asks, “How did you know Joel was in town?” 

“I didn’t, I just got a weird feeling about Tommy leaving,” you reply. Frankie’s gone back to running his hand up and down your back as he furrows his brow, looking lost in thought. 

“With Maria pregnant, would he really leave her?” you ask, “Even if she said Joel had to go?” 

“If he does, leave her, I mean, Tommy’s not the man I thought he was,” Frankie shakes his head, “I can’t see him running out on his child, he’s been so happy about it.”

“If Joel really does leave tomorrow, then the rest is really between Tommy and Maria. And if Tommy leaves her…” you sigh, “then I guess we’ll have to help her anyway we can.” 

“I just can’t see him doing that,” Frankie shakes his head again, “not now, but who knows, if Joel’s back…I don’t know.” 

Frankie goes silent and you have nothing else to say, so you rest your head against his chest again, listening to his steady heartbeat. You’re almost asleep when Frankie presses a kiss to your head. 

“You don’t have to be scared of him, cariño, not now, I promise.” 

“I love you, Frankie,” you mumble and his arms tighten around you. 

“Love you too, hermosa.” 

… 

Joel really is gone the next day, you hear talk of him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Tommy says nothing and you catch Maria avoiding your eye, but she says nothing either. You think Tommy realizes that you somehow know Joel was in town, but you don’t bring it up, and after a few weeks, the brief encounter with Joel almost seems like something you imagined. 

…

The winter drags on, the snow as thick as the first winter you spent in Jackson. When patrols snow in you find extra work learning how to repair everyday objects. It means you get to work with Frankie as he teaches you about wiring and welding. The first lamp you manage to rewire without his help brings you enormous satisfaction, but Frankie’s smile is worth more. 

“Proud of you, cariño,” he grins as you flick the switch back and forth, watching the lamp blink on and off. 

When the snow finally begins to melt, everyone is eager to get back to patrols, even the horses are unusually frisky. The first real chance to stretch out in a fast gallop makes them all take the bit between their teeth and run, thundering over the fresh spring grass as their riders whoop. As you all finally bring them to a halt, their sides lathering, stomping their hooves and snorting loudly, it feels like the winter is truly over even. 

Your first patrol of the spring is uneventful except for taking down three runners in the distance.

“Fuck,” Benny hollers, as your third shot takes down the third runner, “that’s three for three! You missed your calling as a sniper,” he laughs, scanning the clearing below you for more infected. 

“It’s a skill I never knew I had,” you grin, pulling back the bolt of the rifle and slotting in a new bullet. 

“Well, you had the best teacher of course,” Benny smirks as you both get to your feet, “I was always a better shot than Fish.” 

“Benny, you can take credit for my skills in hand to hand combat any time, but the shooting, that was Frankie,” you laugh. 

He just smirks again, swinging himself into the saddle, “Speaking of hand to hand combat, it’s been ages since we did any training, maybe we should get back to it? I know you and Fish are getting old, but that’s no reason to slack off.” 

“Who are you calling old?” you snort, “You’ve got more gray hair than I do!” 

“Pfft…it’s just the light,” he scoffs and you can’t help but laugh. Benny is still mostly blonde, the youngest of you all, whereas both Will and Frankie were more gray nowadays. Frankie’s patchy beard had started turning gray years ago and now none of his original chocolate brown color remained. 

The ride home is easy, you keep your eyes open and stay alert, but patrolling with Benny is always fun, his easy, golden retriever, energy hasn’t diminished with age. If anything, it’s more pronounced than ever with his daughter Lily. She’s inherited her mother’s ginger curls, but all of Benny’s energy and she runs the Miller household. At least for now.

“How’s Eve doing, one more month to go right?” you ask and Benny nods with a grin. 

“She’s huge, pissed off and hating it, but I’m being the perfect husband, she gets foot rubs every evening.” 

“Good man, Benny,” you laugh, “you’d better keep her happy.” 

“She’s been having the weirdest cravings,” he says, “Where the hell am I supposed to find Reese’s? Or Diet Coke?” 

“Try harder, Benny,” you grin and he gives you a mock scowl before breaking into another big smile. 

“She’s being a fucking champion though, I know she’s struggling, her back’s killing her, so I just try to make sure she can rest as much as she wants.” 

You hear horses behind you and you both turn to look at the approaching riders. You smile as you recognize Frankie’s cap, he’s returning with young Jesse. He’s just become old enough to go on patrols and has been going out regularly with you all to learn the ropes. 

“Hey, how was your patrol?” Benny calls as the two men get close. 

“Quiet, didn’t see anyone or anything,” Jesse says, “but we saw a whole herd of bison, should be good hunting tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, the herds are getting really big,” Benny says as they pull up their horses alongside you. Frankie rides close to you, putting his hand on your thigh and giving it a squeeze. 

“Hey, hermosa,” he mumbles and you lace your fingers between his. 

“Hey, honey,” you smile back at him. 

“Did you guys meet the new arrivals yet?” Jesse asks and you all shake your heads. 

“No, but I heard someone new turned up, yesterday right?” Benny asks. 

“Yeah, a man and his daughter, a teenager.” 

“Where’d they come from,” Frankie looks over at Jesse who waves in a vague way back up north. 

“Somewhere in Utah I think, Salt Lake maybe? But they’re staying up in that green house on McMill’s Lane.” 

“Almost neighbors then,” Benny says, “we’ll have to go and say hello.” 

…

You don’t make the connection, and neither does Frankie, and you don’t go to see your new neighbors straight away. So it’s not until you’re walking out from your house a few days later, Frankie just behind you, that you see them. 

You look up from opening the low gate onto the street as you hear footsteps approaching, and you see him. Joel, slowing down, eyes on you and Frankie, dropping behind the young teenage girl walking in front of him. His face is unreadable, apprehensive maybe, his fingers twitching by his side. You hear Frankie come up behind you and stop, waiting as Joel takes a few more steps down the street.  

The girl with him notices that Joel’s slowed down, “C’mon, I’m fucking starving,” she says, glancing back at him, but she follows his line of sight and spots Frankie and you by the side of the road. She looks between the two of you and then back at Joel, furrowing her brow. Joel picks up his pace again and comes towards you, passing the girl who’s stopped, still looking at between the three of you. 

The silence is awkward, Joel’s jaw ticks and you feel a shiver of fear run down your spine. But Frankie moves first, placing his hand on your lower back, a warm, steady presence, and takes a step forward, holding out his other hand towards Joel. 

“Good to see you, Joel, we didn’t know you were back in town.” 

“Good to see you too, Frankie,” Joel nods, shaking his hand, “We just got here a couple of days ago, been getting settled in.” He gestures back at the girl who’s still standing a few feet behind him, watching the exchange. 

“Hi, I’m Frankie,” Frankie says, giving the girl a wave and a smile, “this is my wife.” 

You give the girl a small wave and your name. You can’t wrap your head around Joel turning up with a teenage girl, you feel like you’re staring at her as much as at Joel. 

“Ellie,” she says, raising her hand in a short wave, stepping closer to Joel. “Can we please go, I really am starving.” 

“Yeah, sure, we’d better get going,” Joel hums, glancing up at you and meeting your eyes for a brief second. 

“Alright, we’ll see you around,” Frankie says, giving the girl a smile, “Nice meeting you too, Ellie.” 

The odd couple make their way down the street as you follow them with your eyes. 

“That was weird,” Frankie says, “Jesse said it was a man and his daughter, but she can’t be Joel’s daughter.” 

“Tommy didn’t say anything about Joel adopting a kid either, back in Boston,” you say as Frankie takes your hand and you start walking down the street, watching Joel and Ellie disappear down towards the community center, “Could she be Tess’s daughter?” 

“Tess didn’t have a daughter, at least not as far as I know,” Frankie shakes his head, “It’s a mystery, and I wonder, where’s Tess, if only Joel is here?” 

“Yeah, true,” you worry at your bottom lip and you feel Frankie glancing at you. 

“Don’t, cariño, don’t worry about him being back,” he says, gently stopping you by pulling on your hand and reaching up to tug your lip from between your teeth, “It won't be anything like before, I promise.” 

“I know Frankie, I trust you, it’s all different now,” you give him a weak smile, “I’m just worried what else he’ll bring.” 

“Let Maria handle him, Maria and Tommy, it’s his brother,” Frankie cups your cheek gently, smiling down at you, “it’s just you, Jack and me, that’s my team. Ok?” 

“Ok,” you reply, your fear dissipating a little and you smile back up at him. He gives your forehead a small peck and takes your hand again. 

“C’mon, then, let’s go find Jack before he accuses us of forgetting about this school play.” 

… 

You see Joel around town the next few days, usually with the teenager, Ellie, in tow. And when you see his name on the patrol schedule you realize they’re staying and the knot in your stomach grows again. You have so many questions, and they all lead back to the graying man who now seems to always hover at the corners of your mind. 

“Fuck it,” you mumble to yourself, turning around and walking back up the small street you live on, past your house, until you’re standing in front of Joel and Ellie’s front door. 

The teenager opens when you knock on the door, and she gives you a guarded smile as she lets you in. 

“Joel, someone here to see you,” she calls into the house, leading you into the kitchen, and you hear footsteps on the stairs. Joel stops in his tracks as he sees you standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, clearing his throat, fingers twitching again. 

“Hey,” is all he manages, giving you a nod before stepping into the kitchen, skirting around Ellie who’s looking between the two of you with a curious face.

“Hi,” you say, your earlier determination slipping away and you retreat to the kitchen counter, leaning against it, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. 

“Uhhm…can I get you something to drink, we’ve got some elderflower cordial. Diana gave us some of her homemade,” 

“I’m fine, thanks,” you say, swallowing and glancing at Ellie who’s quirked her eyebrow and is looking at Joel with a smirk. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, “Why are you being so weird?” 

“Just being polite,” Joel grunts, yanking the fridge door open and pulling out a jug. 

“How do you know Joel?” Ellie asks, looking over at you, and you meet her curious eyes before looking back at Joel, wondering what he’ll say. But he’s busying himself with taking down two glasses from the cabinet, wiping one of them down with the dish cloth. 

“Frankie, my husband, and Joel used to work together back in Boston, years ago,” you say, “Will and Benny are Frankie’s best friends.” 

“Oh yeah, they gave us some stuff,” Ellie says pointing at the dry goods on the kitchen table. 

“Ellie,” Joel suddenly says, his voice gruff, “we’ve got some things to talk about, could you maybe go over and see if Eve needs help with something for a while.” 

“No, I want to know what’s going on,” she says, frowning at Joel, “Is this about what Maria said to you last night?” 

Joel’s eyes are on Ellie and he scowls, “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on conversations that aren’t meant for you.” 

“Yeah well, talk quieter then,” Ellie scowls back at him and turns to you. “Maria said stuff had happened in Boston with Frankie and-”

“Ellie!” Joel snaps, “That’s none of your business, that’s between me, Frankie and her,” Joel motions to you, and it earns him another scowl from Ellie. 

“Maybe it is her business too, Joel,” you can’t help but speak up, “if she’s living with you, under your protection?” 

“Don’t.” Joel growls, “Don’t bring her into this.” His voice is low, a warning but you clench your jaw, meeting his dark eyes. 

“Like you brought Frankie into it?” you challenge and you see his jaw tick, his fingers wrapping hard around the glass in his hand. 

“Ellie,” he says, not taking his eyes off you, “go help Eve.”

“But I-” 

“Now.” 

Ellie glares at you, “You don’t know him,” she spits out, “you don’t know him at all and-” 

“Ellie, we’ll talk when you’re back,” Joel’s voice is almost pleading with the teenager now and she looks at him. There’s a silent communication between the two of them while they stare at each other, and then Ellie turns around and stomps out from the kitchen, throwing a final angry stare at you. 

The front door slams shut and Joel lets out a sigh. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, his voice still tight as he looks at you. 

“She’s awfully loyal to you it seems,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest, “I can’t imagine what you did to earn that kind of trust.” 

“Long story,” Joel says, shaking his head, “Ain’t got nothin’ to do with Frankie and me.” 

“I don’t want you in Jackson, Joel,” you square your shoulders, spitting it out before you lose your nerve. “I’m grateful to you for helping us get away from Boston. But I don’t want you here.” 

“Well, you ain’t the only one it seems,” he replies, giving a twisted grin, “Maria made it very clear last night that I’m only welcome because of Tommy.” 

“I’m not telling you to leave,” you say, “You’re his brother, I wouldn’t do that to him, but he knows how I feel about you.” 

“Things have changed…” Joel begins but you cut him off. 

“You forget I lived with a drug addict for years, long before you came back into the picture. One of the first things Frankie taught me about his addiction was that you can never trust an addict. You’ll say things have changed but I can’t believe you.” 

You study Joel, he’s looking back at you, his fingers still twitching, but he meets your eyes with a steady gaze. 

“I don’t expect you too,” he says finally, nodding, “I can just tell you that things are different now,” he looks over at the door where Ellie disappeared, “She’s the reason things ain’t the same, I’m not the same.” 

His response makes you swallow your sharp retort, Joel’s face softens in a way you have never seen, his eyes still on the spot where the teenager just was. When he looks back at you some of the softness remains. 

“Why?” you ask simply, but he shakes his head. 

“It’s a long story, but I ain’t the same, not at all.”

The silence stretches out in the kitchen as you look at each other, Joel’s face doesn’t harden again, his fingers have stopped twitching, and you feel the knot in your stomach loosen a little. 

“I’m…I’m sorry about Frankie,” Joel finally says, sighing and leaning back against the counter, “I didn’t know then, I didn’t see it, how I affected him. And I’m sorry I sold him the pills. It ain’t no excuse, but you know I was using them just as much, and I just didn’t know he’d already been addicted before.” 

“If you bring drugs back into Jackson, Joel…” your voice is low in warning but Joel shakes his head before you even finish your sentence. 

“I won’t, I promise. Like I said, things are different now.”  He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, mimicking your stance as you observe him. 

You want to believe him, he feels different, but you’re scared. Seeing him again has brought back dark memories of Frankie spiraling out of control, hearing the stories of what he did to others, seeing him passed out on the couch, his guilty, pained face as he left you, even when you asked him to stay. 

Santi. 

You drop your gaze to the toes of your boots, shaking your head. But Ellie’s scowl, her defense of him, the way Joel’s face softened when he thought about the girl, his daughter, it makes you doubt your initial thoughts. 

“Joel…” you say, inhaling slowly, making your mind up, “If you bring drugs here, if you fall back into who you were in Boston, if you bring out the worst in Frankie again….” you pause, looking at him, his face is open, nodding along to what you’re saying, “If your presence here begins to threaten my family…” 

He nods, understanding your underlying threat, and lets you continue. 

“I’ll trust you now, because of Ellie, she’s loyal to you, obviously fiercely loyal, and you must’ve done something to earn that.” 

Joel nods again, his shoulders dropping slightly, and you nod back, the silence stretching between you in the small kitchen as you fall silent.  

Eventually you clear your throat, your piece said, “I’ll see you around, probably tonight if you want to, Sunday dinner at Will and Diana’s, it’s tradition.” 

“Alright,” he replies, “we’ll be seein’ you then.” 

You push yourself off the kitchen counter and walk to the front door, you can hear Joel following you and as you put your hand on the handle he speaks up. 

“I…I just wanna say thanks, for givin’ me a chance,” he says and you give him a small crooked smile. 

“Don’t make me regret it, Joel.” 

“I won’t, I promise.” 

…

You tell Frankie about your conversation with Joel as he cleans up in the bathroom, getting ready to head over to Will and Diana’s for dinner. 

“That girl, Ellie, she seems to have changed him in some ways,” you say, sitting on the toilet seat as he dries off from his shower. It’s taking everything you’ve got to not reach out and trail your fingers through the soft hairs on his belly, the happy trail leading down to… You pull your eyes up to his face, meeting his smirk. 

“Am I distracting you?” he grins, bending down and tilting your chin up with his hand so that he can kiss you as you smile. 

“Always, especially when your dick is right in my face,” you chuckle, “But as I was saying, Ellie was ready to bite my head off for challenging Joel, she’s very loyal to him. He must’ve done something good to earn that kind of devotion, to be her father all of a sudden.” 

“Maybe he has changed, but he’s here now, we’ll just have to wait and see,” Frankie says, pulling on his boxers and then a clean t-shirt. “And cariño, try not to worry. I’m not worried for myself, I’m not the same man I was back then,” he sinks down on his haunches in front of you, cupping your face with both his hands, “You got me through it, you got me here, and with you and Jack in my life now, I’m the strongest I’ll ever be, he can’t get to me again,” he leans his forehead against yours, “Ok?” 

“Ok,” you breathe and he smiles, pressing his lips against yours. 

“Ok then, hermosa,” he whispers, “Let’s go over to Will’s before our son claims we’re starving him.” 

As if on cue you hear Jack shout from downstairs, “I’m hungry! Can we leave now? Please!” 

His dramatic outbreak makes you both giggle as Frankie stands up, pulling you to your feet, “Go calm the ravenous monster we’ve created,” he chuckles, “I’ll see you down there.” 

…

You can hear music from the back garden as the three of you approach Will and Diana’s house. During the warm summer months the Sunday dinner moves outside when the weather allows and tonight the air is balmy and soft. As you round the house and step into the garden you’re greeted by Diana bringing out a tray of meat to the barbecue. 

“Hi guys, right on time! Frankie, can you please bring this to Will, I need to get an extra cushion for Eve.” 

“Sure, I’ve got it,” Frankie says and takes the heavy tray from her. 

“Can I help you with anything, Diana?” you ask and she waves you into the house. 

“Yes please, that tray to the table please,” she says, but as the screen door closes behind the two of you she puts her hand on your arm. 

“Just so you know, Will invited Joel and the girl he arrived with, Ellie, tonight. I hope that’s ok with you and Frankie? Have you seen him yet?” 

“Yeah, I’ve talked to him, it’ll be fine,” you say, giving her a smile, “Or at least I hope it’ll be fine, he seems different, maybe he’s changed for the better.” 

“Ok, that’s good. And I hope you’re right, I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet but I met Ellie in town earlier. She seems like a great kid, very protective of Joel, which surprised me.” 

“Yeah, me too,” you reply, glancing out at the garden. You can see Frankie by the barbecue with Will, Benny is kneeling next to Eve who’s on a sun lounger, Joel and Ellie haven’t arrived yet. “That’s what makes me believe him when he says things are different now, but he’ll have to prove it too.” 

“Alright, I’ll take my cues from you,” Diana says, “just let me know if you need our help to kick him out of Jackson if he misbehaves,” she gives you a wicked grin and it makes you laugh. 

“Thanks, I’ll let you know if it comes to that.” 

Diana grabs a tower of glasses and a large jug, “Come on then, lets get poor Eve something to drink, she’s so fed up with this baby now.” 

You pass out drinks to everyone, handing tall glasses to Will and Frankie before grabbing your own and standing next to the two men by the grill. Frankie’s hand drifts down to the small of your back and you lean into him, taking comfort in his presence, his warm body next to you and his hand slowly circling over your t-shirt. They’re talking about putting together a larger hunting party and culling the local bison herd once the young calves are old enough to be separated from their mothers. 

You listen to them with half an ear, waiting for Joel and Ellie to show up. You feel on edge, despite what you said to Diana, it’s as if you can’t relax before you’ve seen Frankie and Joel together. 

You spot them arriving with Tommy and Maria, Tommy proudly holding their month old baby boy in his arms. Joel comes in after Ellie, she’s looking shy, glancing around the garden but Jack spots her and runs over. You’d talked to him earlier about Ellie being new in town and asked him to look out for her, thinking it would be easier for her to talk to someone her own age, even though she looks to be a few years older than him. You smile as you see Jack wave her over to the table where Diana has set out drinks and popcorn as snacks while everyone waits on the meat to be done. Jack pours the elderflower cordial in two glasses and offers one to Ellie with a flourish that makes you stifle a giggle. 

“He’s quite the gentleman,” you hear Will chuckle and you look up to see both men watching the interaction, “you raised him well, Fish.” 

“I had to, or she’d never forgive me,” Frankie smiles, giving your hip a small squeeze. 

“I asked him to take care of Ellie,” you say, “it’s intimidating to turn up to a party where you know no one.” 

“He’s doing a great job,” Will says, turning back to the meat, “We’ve got about ten minutes until the meat is done I think.”

“I’m gonna go say hello to Joel,” Frankie says, “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet.” He drops a kiss on your cheek and walks over to where Joel is talking to Tommy, the baby now in Eve’s lap on the other side of the garden. 

You watch the two men shake hands as Tommy excuses himself, going over to Eve and Maria. 

“You’re worried,” Will says in a low voice, a statement rather than a question, and you pull your eyes from Frankie and look over at him. His steady blue gaze is on you as he lets the meat rest. 

“I guess,” you confess, “less than I was before, but…yeah…it’s hard seeing him with Frankie after all that happened.” 

“I talked to him, to Frankie I mean,” Will says, “he knows how worried you are, but he’s confident Joel can’t get to him like he used to. And I agree.” He smiles at you, a small quirk of his lips, “Frankie’s not the same, not at all, you know that too.” 

“I know, of course I know,” you sigh, “and Joel doesn’t seem to be the same either, but…you know…” you trail off, looking at Will who nods. 

“Give it time, if Joel has changed you have nothing to worry about. If he hasn’t changed, Frankie certainly has, and you have nothing to worry about either.” 

“Yeah, I know you’re right,” you say, looking back at Frankie and Joel. You can read Frankie’s body language better than anything, and he looks relaxed, an easy smile on his face as he says something to Joel and motions over at Jack and Ellie. Even Joel smiles as he looks at Ellie, busy trying to catch the popcorn Jack is tossing at her mouth. 

Maybe things really will be fine now. 

You sit next to Frankie at the dinner table, Joel and Ellie across but slightly to the side. The patio table, made for six, which once only saw you and Frankie, has been expanded to accommodate the large group now sitting around it, thirteen individuals, including the children. 

It’s incredible, you think, as you look around the table, how the community grows, how your extended family has grown. Even if you don’t count Joel and Ellie to that group, they’re still family to Will and Benny, and they’re your family. 

But as usual, at every Sunday dinner, the four of you all remember the people that are missing. It’s inevitable to see the three old friends from Delta Force together, and not touch upon the memory of Pope. It hurts less now, you can think about him, you and Frankie can even joke about him. And when you see Lily stick out her tongue to her dad, it reminds you of Lucía at the same age, as you look around the table, you miss the people who should be there too. 

Will raises his glass, as he usually does, and looks at Benny, Frankie and you, “To Pope,” he says with a smile and everyone raises their glasses, Joel too. Only Ellie looks confused but she drinks as everyone else drinks. 

“Alright, tuck in,” Will waves his hand over the spread and Jack dives for the fattest sausage with a happy yelp, making everyone laugh. 

Platters and bowls are passed around as plates are piled high and soon everyone is following Will’s orders and tucking in. 

“Who’s Pope?” Ellie asks around a mouthful of burger that she's carefully constructed, watching Jack build his own. “And this is like the tastiest thing ever,” she says, swallowing down her mouthful and taking another large bite. 

Your eyes flick up to Joel and you can sense the mood shift around the table, Maria and Tommy both glance over at you, Frankie’s hand falls onto your leg and Will clears his throat. But it’s Joel who speaks up. 

“Pope was an old friend, back in Boston,” he says, “Especially to Will, Ben and Frankie, they served in the army together before the outbreak.” He looks up at Frankie who’s got his eyes on his food, his thumb rubbing across your jeans. Ellie catches on to the tension and looks over at Joel. 

“What happened?” she asks, glancing between the three of you, this kid is clearly too perceptive for her own good, you think, just as Joel begins to answer. 

“He...he died. FEDRA in Boston executed him, I…fucked up something, it’s a long story, you don’t need to hear the whole thing.” 

“Maybe she does, Joel,” Maria suddenly says and from the corner of your eye you see Tommy grab her hand as if to stop her. 

“Why? What did you fuck up?” Ellie asks, still looking at Joel, and then Frankie and you.

“It doesn’t matter Ellie, not now,” Joel says, his voice sharper now, telling her to quit it. 

“Is that why she’s all weird around you?” Ellie plows on, nodding to you, ignoring Joel’s tone.

“Joel’s right, Ellie,” you say, “It doesn't matter now, we can put it behind us.” 

“But Maria said stuff had happened with Frankie and you and now his wife doesn’t want you here. Do you want him to leave too?” The last thing she says to you and you have to shake your head. 

“No, not now,” you reply, “But I admit, I didn’t want him here when he first came, because of what happened in Boston,” you look straight at Ellie, deciding it’s best to treat her as an adult, be honest with her. “Joel did things in Boston, you don’t need to know what, that made me not trust him, but I’m giving him a second chance.” 

Ellie meets your look with a steady look of her own, and you feel like you’re being evaluated by the teenager. 

“It’s ok, Ellie,” Joel says, “She’s looking out for her family, that’s all, and she’s right not to trust who I was in Boston.” 

“But you’ve changed and…”

“But she doesn’t know that, so for now, I need to earn back that trust.” His tone says ‘leave it’. 

Ellie looks up at him and he gives her a nod, his eyebrows raised and she seems to concede, looking back at her burger and taking another bite. 

Frankie’s hand is still on your jeans, grounding you, as you glance over at Jack. He’s looking at you, wide eyed and worried, his own burger forgotten. Frankie suddenly takes your hand, his long fingers wrapping around yours. 

“C’mon, family council,” he says softly, “Jack, c’mon, you too, son.” 

No one says anything as the three of you leave the table and walk around the side of the house, Frankie scooping Jack up into his arms even though he’s really too big to be carried by his dad anymore. He stops as you all reach the front porch, placing Jack down on the stairs. 

“C’mere, cariño,” Frankie pulls you down on the step just below the one he sits on, so that he can wrap one arm around you, and the other around Jack. 

“Jack, I know you don’t know what happened when we lived in Boston,” he says looking over at the young boy, “And you don’t need to know all the details, but I think you’re old enough to know the story at least.” 

Jack looks serious as he nods, and you wrap your arm around his waist, the other around Frankie so that you’re sitting in a little huddle on the porch stairs. 

“I used to be a soldier, Jack, before the outbreak,” Frankie says and Jack lights up. 

“You flew helicopters, I know!”

“Yeah, I did, exactly, but I did a lot of other things too, things that left bad marks on my mind, things that gave me nightmares and left me feeling like a bad person,” Frankie says and Jack nods along, listening intently.  

“I was very unhappy, until I had a daughter, your sister Lucía. She made me want to be a better person, and I managed to get past the bad thoughts.” 

“But you still have nightmares,” Jack says, his face worried, he’s been woken up on a few occasions by Frankie’s shouts, when you haven’t been able to calm him. 

“I do, I think I will probably always have them, but it was much worse back then,” Frankie strokes Jack’s head, calming the boy before he continues, “Lucía, she died when the outbreak happened, and…I almost died too, when I lost her, it broke my heart because I loved her so much.” 

Jack nods solemnly, he knows this part of the story, Frankie had told him not too long ago about Lucía. 

“And then we had to survive the first few years of this new world, and it wasn’t anything like Jackson,” Frankie continues, his hand starting to rub over your shoulder as he looks at you, “It was dangerous, and all the things I’d done as a soldier, all my nightmares and bad thoughts, they came back and I didn’t handle them very well.” 

“What did you do?” Jack asks and Frankie looks back at him, pulling him closer. 

“I started taking special types of pills, they’re a drug that makes you feel better at first, but soon they just make you feel worse than ever, but then I couldn’t stop taking them. And my nightmares got worse, and I wasn’t acting like myself. I was very angry and scared, I thought your mom would leave me, that she’d be fed up with my problems and not want to be with me anymore.” 

At this Jack looks over at you with a worried frown and you give him a reassuring smile.   

“I never, ever thought about leaving him, and I kept telling him, but he was so unhappy, so broken after all that had happened, that he didn’t believe that I would want to stay with him. He didn’t think he deserved me.” 

“It’s hard to explain, Jack, even now, but I thought that I was a really bad person, and that she’d be happier if she didn’t have to deal with my mess.” 

“But you’re not a bad person?” Jack says, looking up at Frankie who has to shake his head. 

“I’ve done bad things, Jack, both as a soldier, and afterwards, but I was having trouble understanding that it didn’t make me a bad person.”

“No, Jack, your dad isn’t a bad person,” you say, pulling both of them closer into your little huddle, “He never was, he just couldn’t handle all the bad things that happened to him in a very good way.” 

“And when we were in Boston, Joel was like me,” Frankie says, “He was angry and very unhappy, but he didn’t have someone like your mom to help him out of it. And when I worked with him, we weren’t good for each other, and together we did some very bad things…” Frankie trails off, looking at you, sighing deeply. 

“Jack, what I did…” he says eventually, looking back at the boy, “it led to my best friend dying and it makes me feel very bad, thinking about it. Before he died he told me it wasn’t my fault but I still feel like it was, I made terrible mistakes, and I miss him every day.” 

Frankie pauses and you pull him closer, pressing your cheek against his chest while Jack looks up at him.

“That’s what happened in Boston, Jack,” Frankie says and Jack nods, his eyebrows wrinkled as he thinks. 

“But you didn’t kill tio Santi?” he asks eventually and you answer before Frankie can. 

“No, he didn’t, not at all.” 

“But I feel guilty about it,” Frankie says, “it was my mistake that put him in danger.” 

“Are you ok now though?” Jack asks, “You still have nightmares.” 

“I’m fine now, Jack, even though I have nightmares sometimes, but your mom takes care of me when I have them, like she always takes care of me,” Frankie says and Jack smiles at you.  

“I just wanted you to know what happened in Boston, Jack, why we came to Jackson. I left all of that behind me when we came here, and it’s been a long time since then, do you understand?” 

Jack nods and Frankie tucks him into his side, the boy wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist and you smile up at the two of them. 

“C’mere, cariño,” Frankie mumbles, nudging your chin up with his free hand and bending down to you. His lips are soft and he smells of wood smoke and barbecue when he kisses you. It’s a small, gentle press, his scruffy mustache tickling your mouth, you can feel his smile and you cup your hand around his neck, holding him close. 

Jack makes a retching noise next to you, burying his face in Frankie’s t-shirt. 

“Ewww, gross!”

THE END

That's it, end of the story after wrapping it up with Tommy, Joel and Ellie arriving in Jackson too (of course). I'm relieved and drained, so ready to shoot this out into to space and start something new, to change perspective. It's been incredible writing this story and having all your feedback some at me every time I post a new chapter and I can't thank you enough (again).

Love you all!

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

[ninzied]

wip wednesday whatever from the fic about henry's hair

Like with most things in his life, when Alex does sleep, he sleeps hard.

But he’s also been told—by people who’ve been in a position to know—that he does not always sleep well. There’s frequent tossing and turning, and the occasional something-or-other muttered under his breath that of course he doesn’t recall in the morning.

What he does remember are the dreams, or at least, the memory of them still in his body, all frenetic energy that refuses to dissipate until he’s drowned it out with caffeine plus or minus an eight-mile run.

The worst of those dreams were during the week after Henry had left him, before Alex stormed the palace. Even afterward, it took time not to wake up feeling like he’d lost something, like his body wouldn’t rest until he found it again.

He has, now.

Every night, Alex finds him. Even if he starts at the very edge of their bed (usually when Henry’s fast asleep and Alex doesn’t want to wake him with the light off of his phone screen), Alex is pulled there by something stronger than gravity. Something subconscious, something instinctive that has him reach out, searching for him, and Henry is always, blessedly, there.

It happened after a fight, once. That was awkward. They’d both sworn never to go to bed angry, and then one night they had. It was stupid. It was probably Alex’s fault. (It was 100% Alex’s fault.) But then he’d slept soundly for twelve hours straight, and the sole reason for that was the following: because when he put his arms around Henry sometime in the middle of the night, Henry had only pressed closer, and then neither of them moved again until morning.

Waking up like that had been very nice but very confusing, because, well, were they still fighting, or…? Alex wondered if he could get away with not bringing it up, in case the answer was an emphatic Yes, Alex, we are. But it turned out that waking up with your boyfriend’s dick pressed firmly against your backside made a strong case for putting aside any lingering fight that Henry might’ve held onto, so.

Let’s just say they’ve since grown lax on their no-fighting rule because the makeup sex was that damn good.

tagged by: i think i was tagged in some last line things but i can't remember by who 😬 tagging: @ejunkiet @carry-the-sky @mulderscully and anyone who wants to share!

[neonponders]

Part 27 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🍦

Part 26

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳)

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

“Since when are you and Eddie Munson friends?”

Steve scratched his patchy stubble. “I wouldn’t say we are, but he’s got little guys too. You saw ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Max answered distractedly, preoccupied with watching the littles riding their bikes through Family Video. “But I figured Dustin finally made you cave for Hellfire.”

Steve opened his mouth, but their heads turned toward the very Eddie Munson in question, wielding the cassette case for Dark Crystal threateningly. “Choose your next words carefully, Harrington. And yes, hi, still here.”

“I see you,” Steve droned from behind the counter. The flood of church-goers had already come and gone from the store, stocking up on their Sunday evening plans and leaving the store mostly devoid of customers; especially since all of Hawkins knew the best movies were gone between Sunday and Tuesday.

Which also meant that they had been given a list of documentaries by the middle and high school faculty to be fulfilled by Monday morning. Robin sat on the confetti-printed carpet with the storage boxes, sorting and piling up the demanded inventory.

Steve finished, “D&D isn’t my thing.”

“And what is your thing?” Eddie challenged, smiling cockily.

“I’m a visual person, not an imagination person,” Steve countered.

Eddie’s smile faded somewhat. “I can’t fault you there, jock star. Even we use figurines and books to help us.”

Steve’s brows furrowed a little, but his, “Thanks,” was sincere. Then he focused on Robin and the littles riding their bikes amongst the piles. “Why doesn’t the school library have these things?”

Robin lifted a video and read aloud, “Childbirth: Richard’s Story. I think some people would burn the school to the ground if they heard about Richard.”

Steve shrugged. “We’ve all seen it. Why is it a surprise?”

Eddie answered, “Because kids are free to rebel before they join the cult comforts of their adult hive minds.”

“Do you always talk like this?”

“I’m not wrong - shit.”

Steve took a deep breath, which paused when headlights refracted off the storefront windows. He squinted in the gloom until he was sure, “Everyone relax, it’s Chris.”

The littles emerged from underneath Robin’s crisscrossed legs - small Eddie on Robin’s shoulder peeked out from underneath her bobbed hair. “Chwissy?”

“Me!” little Chrissy celebrated. “Big me!”

Chrissy stepped into the store and said, “Hey, Steve!” before waving at her parents, who drove away after dropping her off.

Gliding to the floor, small Eddie declared, “Chwissy! Wanna see me wide? I fwy like E.T.!”

Chrissy laughed and sank to the floor, legs bent to the side as she sat next opposite to Robin and watched the littles slalom in figure eights on the carpet. But in the first couple of minutes of arriving, Chrissy couldn’t help but notice little Billy riding a little distantly from the others. Little Eddie used Steve’s bike, since the latter lay within the arms of his otter plushie, watching Billy.

“Are they okay?”

“There was an incident,” Robin filled in. “Billy - like, big Billy - taunted Stevie, which lil B didn’t like. Now they’re both moping.”

Chrissy’s posture wilted empathetically. “Where’s Billy?”

Robin looked up at Max, who took the cue, “He’s at home. Our parents are going out of town for the week, so he has to prove that he’s around.”

Chrissy seemed to understand this since she nodded, but Eddie draped his arms over the shelves as he asked, “And you don’t?”

Chrissy intercepted, “It’s an older sibling thing.”

Eddie slowly picked his jaw up as he nodded, processing. “Baby of the family perks.”

“Except I’m not a baby,” Max said bitterly.

“Oh, you’ll always be the baby,” Eddie taunted, “and Billy will always be your leash.”

Emotion faded from Max’s face as if she might’ve seen a ghost. Still, she fought, “That sounds like hypocritical crap.”

“That’s parenting,” Eddie scoffed indifferently. “My dad told me about it. He was one of seven, and after he left home, he never spoke to his eldest brother again. He always regretted it. He told me it wasn’t even their fault; parents lower the chain of command to the eldest kids, and they hold the leash too tight, but the person on the other end doesn’t feel it. The leash sure does, though. Hence why his trauma led to me being an only child.”

Steve’s eyes wandered, clearly unsure how to moderate the discussion and thankfully didn’t have to. Chrissy offered to Robin, “Do you have siblings?”

“A sister,” Robin shared, “but our age gap is too big. We barely keep track of one another.”

“I’m counting the register,” Steve announced.

Robin glanced back at him and then at her watch. “Sure, I’ll finish early. Hell yeah.”

She set the stack of movies for the schools on the counter and she and Chrissy got the rest back in the boxes before promptly throwing the storage keys at Eddie. “Look like a charmer, Munson. Big and strong.”

He glared at her but couldn’t stop his eyes flicking to Chrissy as he heaved the box up in his arms. Chrissy was busy huddled next to the otter plushie, talking softly to the littles. Billy had dumped his bike to climb into the plushie’s fluff with little Steve. Small Eddie held onto Chrissy’s fingers while he talked animatedly, and little Chrissy sat on the otter’s arm, petting small Billy’s head.

Steve emerged from the break room, having deposited the money bag in the safe, and folded himself onto the floor like Chrissy. “What’re we talkin’ about down here?”

Chrissy lifted her eyes to him. “I’m trying to ask why they’re upset and what would make them feel better.”

Steve didn’t smile so much as press his lips into a sympathetic line. “B didn’t like the joke of Stevie getting hurt. Ever since B took a bite out of Billy, Billy’s been saying he’ll bite back.”

“ ‘S not my fawlt.”

Their eyes sank onto the small voice coming from within the otter fluff. Steve consoled, “I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault, buddy. I know you were hungry when you did it, but he was trying to keep you from swan diving out of his shirt. And he shouldn’t have taken it so far as to actually scare Stevie. Now we’re all stuck in the middle.”

Small Chrissy reached over the otter’s arms to hold his hands. “You need to be nice, Biwwy. For Stevie and big Biwwy, too. He’s not weally mean. I can tell.”

Small Eddie seconded, “Yeah! Like me! Chwissy sees right thwough me.”

Big Chrissy smiled and tried, “What if Billy were to apologize? Would that help you say sorry too?”

Billy had his face tucked into the otter fur, making his eyes and cheeks look endearingly plump. “He wouldn’t mean it.”

Steve’s eyes felt huge in his own head. “Why do you think so?”

Blue eyes blinked up at him and fake otter fur caught quiet tears. “I wasn’t sowwy when I bit ‘im.”

“You don’t have to apologize for biting him.” All eyes lifted to Chrissy, who elaborated, “You were hungry and frustrated. It makes sense. But you could tell him thank you for making sure you didn’t hurt yourself while you were hungry and reckless.”

Little Chrissy and little Steve raked Billy’s hair off his face, wiping his tears for him. Big Chrissy finished, “I have a feeling you both really like being helpful. Am I right?”

Little Eddie answered, “Biwwy and Stevie made us croissants!”

Chrissy nodded like she had been right about something. “Billy likes helping, too. He acts like he doesn’t, because for some reason boys have a weird idea of what strength looks like. But he does.”

This close to the floor, big Steve noticed Max’s fidgety shuffling, sparing her a glance that made her go still.

Chrissy finished, “If you try to talk to him, I’m sure Billy will reciprocate. He’s that kind of person. He’s not all bad. He just needs to know how he can help.”

Little Billy sniffled and wiped his nose on the otter. “How d’you know he’wll be sowwy? And mean it?”

“Because if he isn’t, then I’ll make him sorry for something,” she smiled with a wink. “But seriously, Billy’s helped me a few times. I’ve got him figured out.”

Steve huffed congenially. “Wish I had him figured out.”

Chrissy inhaled like she might’ve intended to speak, but little Eddie flew up to her eye level and moved a piece of hair that had been hanging over her eyelashes, causing her to blink several times out of rhythm. “Thanks, Eddie.”

Then the larger Eddie said behind them, “Good job, lil dude. We ready to roll?”

Chrissy unfolded herself from the floor with little Eddie and Chrissy in her hands. She answered a chipper, “Yeah.”

Steve picked up the otter over his forearm as he rose to his feet. “What do you two have planned for a Sunday night?”

Eddie countered, “You mind your sleepover and we’ll mind ours.”

Steve started to roll his eyes, but Chrissy brightened, “You’re seeing Billy tonight?”

Robin arrived from the break room, then, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and catching the look Steve gave her. They frowned at each other, eye brows wagging in silent confusion they both failed at communication.

Max scoffed, “Oh, come on. Your littles lick each other. What’s the surprise? Are we going or what?”

Chrissy burst into giggles. “They what?”

Steve dodged, “I gotta lock the doors. Everyone out!”

Chrissy laughed and Eddie smiled as he dropped his jacket onto her shoulders on their way outside. “My van’s heating is out.”

“Thanks,” she said, voice and cheeks warm. Little Chrissy’s excitement over Eddie’s jacket had her nervously lifted a hand to push her hair behind her ear even though it was tied back in a pony tail.

Little Eddie distracted her with, “Chwissy? Can I wide in your hair?”

“Sure. You need to talk up there, though, so I know you’re still there.”

Little Eddie happily sat astride her scrunchie like a saddle. “I’m here! The world is beauwtiful on your head, Chwissy.”

“Tone it down,” big Eddie hissed as he opened the passenger door for them, earning bubbling laughter from both Chrissy and little Eds.

As for Steve’s car, Robin and Max fell into their seats, the latter holding the shoebox bedroom and the former holding the littles and their otter in her lap. Once the engine woke up and Steve got his headlights situated, little Stevie asked, “Are we weally going to Biwwy’s tonight?”

“That’s up to you two,” Steve answered. “We don’t have to, but I’m going to be a selfish asshole and crash there with you, if we go.”

Little Steve laughed and Billy thanked, “I want you therwe, Stevie.”

He let himself smile softly when he glanced at the blond tuft in all the otter’s fur, safely bound in small Steve’s arms. “Have a nap, B. We’re going home first.”

Little Steve looked up at him. “Home? Are we okay?”

“Yeah, we’re okay. But you guys will need an overnight bag...and Stevie, if all else fails, I think I know something that will cheer Honey B up. How’s that sound?”

“Good! Sounds good!”

Steve nodded at the street ahead, but he could feel the silence in the car like a fog. Then simultaneously, Robin and Max said together,

“Do I want to know?”

“Billy and I share a wall.”

Steve grimaced and waved at the air like he were swatting gnats. “It’s not about you! It’s about making a little guy with a big heart feel better. Jesus.”

More silence.

Then Robin asked, “Will you drop me off before you get married or am I handcuffed to this sleepover too?”

Steve didn’t grace that with and answer.

[wandasfifthwife]

matter of importance

— eg!rarity x reader

tw || no specific gender mentioned for reader but I imagined fem while writing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, first argument, not proofread

summary || rarity’s been asked to design a fashion line for a designer you know she’s been raving about since forever. after succeeding, she’s landed a full-time job as their designer. in doing so, she’s left you behind.

༺mlp m.list༻

She’s chasing after her dreams—why would you wish to stop her from doing so. It’s been an incredibly long journey, you know as she’s been using you as a model for her clothes. That was until she got an offer, the one that’s now lead her down a path of success; but lately you’ve been afraid that her vision for a successful future is one without you.

You might’ve not enjoyed the feeling of her needle poking you from time to time when you were her model, but you enjoyed the time spent with her. Now she has real models to work with, important measurements to take. It was all done without you. Of course you try to be supportive by showing up to her events or being in the background. What kept you going was seeing her face light up when she would recognize you in the crowd. She still cares to see you.

You brought yourself over to her workspace, sitting on a nearby chair to watch her. An ugly feeling arising when you come to realize your plans will be cancelled again. Sitting in silence beside her can only be so much for so long.

“Rarity,” you call out, voice muffled from the sounds of her sewing machine. She spots your shadow walking up, momentarily stopping to listen.

“Do you want to go that city event tonight?”

“Oh darling I wish, but I am quite backed up. Perhaps we can reschedule?”

You highly doubt it. At this rate you don’t believe you’ll get a moment alone with her until she’s at a stable point in her career. If that even were ever happen.

She’s gone back to sewing, choosing another project to work on seeing as you’ve started to talk to her. Her glasses set on the tip of her nose, fingers working on weaving the needle through the cloth, fixing a hem that had fallen loose once fitted in the model.

“Rarity?”

“Yes?”

“What’s this supposed to do,” you emphasize your words by pointing at the tack around her thumb.

“Oh why it’s a thumb tack, helps me not to poke my finger when I’m doing smaller stitch work.”

The next two, three, six questions are running her patience thin. It’s like every minute you were dragging her attention here and there, anywhere but where she needs it to be. It snaps after the eight question, pushing her mind into an unhealthy state.

“What’s going on with you,” she starts, continuing to finish fixing the dress, “you’re usually not like this.”

You debate on telling her the truth, not sure if you could handle hearing her response to your apparent “issue.” She would laugh at you, find you ridiculous for thinking her work was taking her away from you.

“I’m just talking to you.”

“Well you did, and if you can’t tell I’m busy.”

“Of course you’re busy, that’s all you ever are,” you snap, hurt bleeding into your aggressive tone. “If you would take a step back you’d see that this has been taking all of your attention.”

“It’s a serious job, it’s going to take time to do.”

“And I’m not serious enough?“

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“No,” you huff, “it’s what you’re showing. You’re acting like this isn’t a problem.”

“This wouldn’t be a problem, if you wouldn’t make one out of it. I think you’re being unreasonable, now please leave me be. That’s been quite enough.”

You wish it was a joke, or a nightmare, but her back facing towards you was reality. There was hope that she would turn around, apologize, say she’d love to meet later tonight. It hurts more when she moves to work back with the machine, the loud sound drowning out any other comments you may add.

With arms wrapped around you, you left. A choked sob escaping you once you’ve left her building. You’ve never experienced this side of her, one that’s aloof and removed. You avoided her house, walking straight back to your own to try and dry up the tears falling down your cheeks.

Rarity was unable to work. After working with a sewing machine for so long the sound has become like background noise to her, she’s used to it. So she heard your cry when you left, the sound new to her ears. She’s heard you cry before, but not because of her. Ego kept her from turning around and apologizing right then, and she regrets, guilt rising within her with every minute.

Maybe there’s a way to make it up to you. She’s rushing to check her clock, seeing that she still has two hours until the town’s event begins—she still had time. Your house was in the same neighborhood as her, a five minute walk either way. Upon approaching she notices the light on in your room. She feels worse when she sees your state. After opening the door, you’ve been looking anywhere but her, eyes puffy and red.

“I came to apologize,” she starts, wringing her hands together, “I was rude earlier, snapping at you like that. It was terrible of me. You didn’t deserve that.”

You nod along, eyes still sad and avoiding hers. She grows frustrated, movements less shy and inward.

“Oh I can’t take this. I miss you, and I’m so sorry. I’d leave this job in a second if it’d help remove this mopey feeling.”

“You don’t have to quit, I’m just selfish.”

“I do, it’s too much for me anyways—it doesn’t allow me to do what matters most.”

You’ve begun to cry again, teeth biting at your cheek to try and stop it.

“Are those sad or happy tears, darling. I quite hope they’re happy.”

“They’re happy,” you laugh, wiping at your face.

She smiles, pulling you into an embrace that would’ve had you blushing if she had done this after a week of dating. You grip her shirt, relaxing in her hold.

“You’re not a second choice to me.”

[ldhluvr]

☆ close to you

pairing: academic rival!keeho x fem!reader

summary: yoon keeho is a menace to society. especially if the definition of society is you (and maybe your math teacher).

other info: this was written for a friend, so the texting style is specifically to fit her texting style. also i think i made it a fem reader? no proper proofreading / editing soz. also ur math teacher is nosy as hell but also i would love having him as my math teacher

Being the first person in a column of students had its perks, because you were the one who got to see every students’ test scores before you passed their papers back. Usually, you were not the type of person to invade someone’s privacy and potentially embarrass them like that, but with Keeho, it was very different.

He was the biggest smartass you knew, and you were quite smart yourself. You just weren’t a dick about it.

But your seating chart gave you the upper hand here — you get to make fun of any idiotic mistakes he makes on his test, and he can’t do the same for you.

You flip through the papers until you find yours, and then his, and you take a long look at his. You hear him groan behind you.

“Just pass back the damn paper. If you’re so curious, I could tell you my grade. You’re holding everyone else up.”

“You’d lie,” you mutter, as you continue reading his test. “Oh, wow, how’d you get number eight wrong?” You reach back and hold out the stack of papers for him to grab.

“If you’d let me see my paper earlier, I might’ve been able to give you an answer.”

“‘Might’ve,’” you mock. You take a look at your own test paper and see you also got number eight wrong. You feel a presence near your shoulder and you realize Keeho’s reading your test from behind you. You flip the paper over as fast as you can before turning around to glare at him.

“What’re you looking at?”

“Just checking if you have the right answer for number eight. Guess you don't.”

“Shut up. At least I know how to solve it now.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

Of course he’s smirking.

You roll your eyes at him and turn back around.

The next day, he taps on your shoulder. You quickly turn around to glare at him but notice he’s rubbing his nose. You look down at your braid that rests on your shoulder. You fight the urge to laugh.

“Did I just hit you with my hair?”

“Most people would say sorry.”

“Clearly, I’m not most people. What do you want?”

He stops rubbing his nose and looks at you, clearly annoyed.

“Can you pass me the notes for 9.3? I couldn’t really get what he was saying.”

“Why would I help you? Ask one of your friends,” you snap.

“I am.”

You freeze. We’re friends now? Since when?

He’s making a (really ugly) pouty face and you feel like throwing up or something.

“Ugh, fine, whatever,” you say, handing him your notebook. “Wait, how the hell am I supposed to take notes now?”

Keeho doesn’t respond, and stares a little above your head instead.

You cringe, having a feeling that you know what’s behind you. You turn around and are met with your math teacher’s grimacing face. You feel like you’re trapped in a Disney Channel movie.

“Hope you had a nice little chat. If you continue it, I’ll give you your very own detention slip!” he exclaims, a fake smile adorning his face. Normally, you loved your teacher’s sarcasm, but this situation has made you realize you don’t love it as much when it’s directed at you.

Both you and Keeho mutter quick apologies to your teacher, and you quickly snatch your notebook back from him.

“As I was saying, with integrals, you have to keep in mind…”

Turns out, Keeho’s stupider than you thought. Even though your teacher essentially said “shut up or you’ll both get detention,” the idiot decides to open his big mouth.

He asks you for the notebook again and your teacher stops in the middle of his lesson, staring at the two of you with his same pained smile. He looks down at his podium and starts scribbling. You groan quietly and try your hardest not to smack Keeho in front of your entire class.

“Since you two love flirting in my class so much, here’s a ticket to a room just for the two of you. And me, of course. Today, after school.”

You open your mouth to object, but you know that’s going to make it worse. Wait, what the hell did he just say?

Whatever. Your mom’s going to kill you.

A couple hours later and it’s finally time for your first detention. If only he’d given you detention tomorrow so you could’ve explained that you didn’t interact with him that second time.

Whatever, it’s probably already on your record already.

Fuck Keeho.

Speaking of the boy, he’s seated in your usual class seat.

You give him a weird look and sit at the desk closest to the door. He gets up from his (read: your) seat and sits at the desk closest to yours.

You roll your eyes. “Just stay away from me. Because your idiotic self couldn’t pay attention in class, I’m stuck in detention. This is on my record because you didn’t take notes like you should’ve.” You pull out your computer from your backpack and decide to do homework.

Your math teacher still hasn’t arrived.

You take a quick glance at Keeho’s face and he looks kind of… hurt. When he realizes you saw him, he hides whatever the expression was with a smirk. “Ouch, that really hurt,” he says in the most sarcastic tone you’ve heard. He moves closer to you. “You know—“

Your teacher walks into the room and raises an eyebrow at the two of you. Keeho immediately moves positions and sits like a normal smartass.

Your teacher starts working at his desk. At the same time, you’re handed a post-it note.

“Excuse me? Also I know the post-it note’s from you dumbass, you don’t need to write your name on it. You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?” You’ve already spoken before you remember where you are, and at this point, you don’t care.

“Actually, I’m not. From our grades, we’re relatively the same intelligence-wise, so if you’re calling me stupid, you’re calling yourself stupid too.”

“Math grades aren’t everything, dipshit. Also, did you just try to use the ‘I’m not a mirror’ comeback without using the ‘I’m not a mirror’ comeback?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Hey, guys, I was joking when I said you can flirt in here, you’re supposed to be quiet. So please be. And do work — please do not just text each other or something,” your teacher sighs, running his hand through his hair.

You could’ve sworn he muttered something about “not being paid enough for this.”

Your phone lights up and you’re once again reminded that Yoon Keeho is actually the biggest idiot you know.

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ ok so back to what i was saying

YOU how dumb are you

YOU he literally just said “don’t just text each other” and you’re literally texting me

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ you’re texting back

YOU oh my God how are you in eleventh grade right now

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ same way you are, sweetheart

You almost shriek and then (luckily) remember where you are. You turn to look at Keeho, and he’s already looking at you. Sometimes, it feels like his smirk is glued to his face.

YOU I don’t think we’re close enough for you to call me sweetheart

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ i’d disagree with you there

YOU oh?

YOU okay, then tell me. how close are we?

YOU in your opinion, of course

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ i’d say about a foot

You roll your eyes and turn off your phone, going back to your work. A couple of minutes later and your phone (finally) lights up with another text.

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ okay fine sorry

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ i called you my friend today

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ i’d say we’re that close

YOU and friends call each other sweetheart?

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ i mean why not?

YOU ugh why are you so difficult all the time

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ okay fine fine

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ hey, wait i never said i called you sweetheart because we’re friends YOU okay so then why'd you call me sweetheart

YOU and please be quick with your answer

YOU I could have gotten the math homework done by now

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ i called you sweetheart because i wanted to be closer

YOU closer than a foot?

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ you’re the one being difficult now

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ i wanted to be closer than friends

You set your phone down with a thud. You half-expected his text, but the other half of you feels giddy with surprise seeing the message. This time, when you look at him, he’s not looking at you. In fact, his eyes are trained on his phone screen, and you can see a faint redness in his cheeks.

You tap his shoulder to get his attention. He doesn’t respond. You tap him again. He still doesn’t move an inch. You look back down at the conversation. You squint your eyes at the screen. Wait a second.

YOU wanted?

You look back at him. He finally looks back up at you. The second your eyes meet, he looks back at his phone. The text bubble appears, then disappears.

DO NOT RESPOND ❌❌❌ *want

You try to fight it, but you can’t help but grinning. You pinch him and he yelps, attracting the attention of your teacher. You put on your best goody-two-shoes smile and he looks away.

“You like me?” you whisper. “Hey, Keeho, you in there?” You tap him again. He remains still.

You sit back in your seat.

YOU never thought I’d see the day where Yoon Keeho was rendered speechless

YOU especially by little old me

YOU also Keeho if you’re not gonna let me speak to you, why’d you tell me?

He doesn’t text his response. He, instead, decides to finally look you in the eye.

You look at your teacher and look back at Keeho.

You can’t say it, because it’d be horribly embarrassing for your teacher to hear, so you instead mouth the words.

“I like you too,” a voice rings out, and it’s not your own.

You look at the direction it came from and notice your math teacher grimacing.

“Guys, come on. You’re not subtle; you text kind of loudly. But it’s nice that you guys have sorted out whatever your feelings are. I hope this means you’ll stop interrupting my class with your… conversations.”

You feel like dissolving right then and there. You look at Keeho, and he looks as mortified as you are.

“You know what? You guys are my best students anyway, get out of here and have your teenage fun, I don’t know. I won’t put the detention on your transcripts. I didn’t have the best day today and you kids having your conversation in the middle of one of the harder concepts in the class was kind of the icing on the cake. Sorry for taking it out on you. I’ll give you free As on the next pop quiz. Not like you wouldn’t get them anyway.”

He smiles at you both — a genuine one this time — and waves.

You immediately start packing and head out.

You start walking to the front of the school when a hand tugs you back. You bump into Keeho, who looks down at you with his signature smirk. You turn around to properly face him.

“So…. you like me? At least, that’s what I’ve heard.” He shrugs, a playful look in his eyes.

“This coming from the one who… what was it? Wanted to be close enough to me to call me sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, stepping towards you. “You got it right.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes. “I’d say you’re pretty close. Much closer than a foot.”

He throws his head back and laughs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re so annoying,” he sighs. He leans in, and suddenly, he’s as close as he can possibly be, lips on yours.

[ash5monster01]

Goes On Chapter Seven

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 3.5k

Six ←→ Eight

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

2/10/60

Once classes ended Charlie found himself walking to the schools pay phones, excited to call his friends, and see what they had been up to so far this week. It was the one thing he looked forward to. He wasn’t sure if it was because it made him feel closer to Neil or if he had gone so long without talking to them it was all he wanted to do. Either way he finally felt a semblance of happiness since the whole mess had happened and Charlie was just gonna have to make do, one phone call at a time.

Yet when he rounds the corner to find the line of pay phones he also finds the familiar girl with brunette hair cascading down her back and a soft smile on her face. He takes a moment to admire her, the way she acts fondly about the person on the other end, how her fingers curl around the coiled wire, as if the rest of her body was on autopilot. She was so God damn beautiful and Charlie was such a fool, a fool for not being able to let the old him out. The old him that would do everything in his power to charm her.

“Hey you” his voice is sultry smooth, arms caging her in, and landing on either side of the pay phone. She’s so close he can smell the strawberry shampoo in her hair and the faint smell of her rose perfume. She turns with a wide smile, eyes glimmering with amusement, face so close that if he moved forward just a few more inches he could kiss her.

“Oh that’s just some classmate of mine, thinks he has a chance or something” she says into the phone, devious grin flashing back at Charlie. He figures whoever is on the other end asked who he was and all he could do was roll his eyes at the girl.

“I know. If he bothers me I’ll let you know” she says with a soft chuckle and Charlie raises his eyebrows, glancing at the girl.

“Me? Bother you? No way” he mouths, a hushed whisper coming from his mouth and she bites her lips to suppress a laugh. The sight of it alone makes Charlie’s heart clench. After eating dinner with her that one night he had somehow let her in. Not close enough to bare his soul like he had with his own friends but enough to finally feel comforted by someone around here. He regretted not staying strong but Evelyn somehow was the exception.

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later. Love you” she says into the phone and Charlie raises his eyebrows in questioning again. Watching as she turns back around to hang up the phone, still caged in by the boys arms.

“Boyfriend?” he questions and she giggles out loud this time, warming Charlie over.

“Brother actually” she tells him and now he actually is more confused than before.

“He doesn’t go here?” he asks and Evelyn shakes her head.

“No he practically begged my parents to go to public school, plus he’s only eleven, so I don’t think they had it in them to mind. Babies of the family, they get away with everything” she says with amusement glimmering in her eyes and Charlie wishes he had grown up with siblings. It might’ve made growing up with his parents much more bearable.

“So if I bother you, you’re gonna sick an eleven year old on me?” he teases and Evelyn crosses her arms, shrugging.

“Possibly, he does have a mean swing. As his only sister, I would know” and that has Charlie laughing loudly, mentally cursing himself for still not asking the girl to the dance.

“I’ll take your word for it” he tells her and Evelyn grins right back.

“What brings you to the pay phones on this fine Wednesday afternoon?” she questions and Charlie smiles.

“Calling Todd, today’s his day” he says and Evelyn snorts which Charlie finds adorable.

“They have designated days? Is Knox only Fridays then?” she teases right back and Charlie shakes his head, brunette hair swinging.

“No Knox is Tuesdays. Friday nights he spends with his girl” and Evelyn doesn’t miss this way his eyes glance down at her lips when he says ‘his girl’.

“Convenient” she teases and he rolls his eyes at her once more.

“If you don’t mind waiting doll we can go grab some dinner after this” he tells her and Evelyn smiles, still basking in the feeling Charlie was willing to spend time with her.

“I was actually going to meet Nate for trivia on campus but you’re welcome to come” she says and Charlie chuckles, thinking of his room mate who had seemed very on edge lately. If he knew him better he would know why but he figured it was just school.

“I’ll walk you to it, trivia isn’t for me” he says and now Evelyn is the one rolling her eyes at him. Charlie just finds it cute though as he finally pushes himself up off the wall and reaches for the pay phone in front of her. She watches as he drops a few coins in the machine and dials a number familiar to only him.

“Yes, I’m calling for Todd Anderson” he says, raising his eyebrows at Evelyn who watches fondly. After a few minutes of waiting, Evelyn trying to poke Charlie and urge him to finish up already, Todd finally answers.

"There he is" Charlie grins when the familiar voice comes through the phone.

"Charles" Todd greets back with a grunt and Charlie can't help but laugh. He was sad his friend had come out of his shell after he was no longer there to see it. The things he would do to see Todd stand on that desk and stick it to Nolan like that. So much better than a phone call from God.

"How are you, turning in all your assignments on time I suppose?" Charlie teases, knowing Todd was still a goodie two shoes no matter how out going he had become. He could practically see Todd rolling his eyes now.

"Well yeah considering my punishment is to work study under Nolan for the rest of the year. I do all my homework in his office" and Charlie almost winces from the punishment because that must be horrible. That meant no study group with the guys and when you had a question you had to ask Nolan.

"The rest of the year, man all I got was my ass beat and pots and pans for two weeks" Charlie says recalling the punishment he recieved for his own big stunt. He couldn’t sit in his chair properly for a week but at least he had tried to make change. Evelyn just wears a confused look as he hears him say this.

"I guess outwardly disobeying Nolan is much much worse than asking for girls to attend Welton" Todd says which has Charlie laughing again.

"Yeah well much to Nolan's dismay, him kicking me out landed me in a school with girls. Joke's on him" Charlie jokes, looking at the only girl in this God forsaken school that he had somehow gotten close too. She wears a smirk, hearing him mention girls and she hopes more specifically her.

"I'm pretty sure the joke is on those poor girls. Charlie Dalton and his miserable flirting" Todd picks on the boy and Charlie doesn't have the heart to tell him that he had given up the flirting and confident act. That he was just as miserable as the rest of the world if not more.

"Miserable flirting, me? Never" Charlie tells the boy, and Evelyn gives him a confused look because this guy talking on the phone right now is still one she hasn’t gotten to know. Yet a flash of him appears when he spots the look on her face and reaches to grab a strand of her hair, curling it slowly around his fingers.

"Yeah right- Oh, here's Meeks" Todd says before the phone shuffles around.

"Hello Sir" his red headed firends voice floods through the phone and Charlie can't help but crack a smile.

"Meeks, where have you been? My Latin grade is rapidly dropping and my teachers are starting to wonder why" he says referring to all the times Meeks spent hours making sure Charlie not only finished his homework but at least understood it.

"It's a dead language Charles, they'll never question it" he says and Charlie feels that familair clench around his heart. The one that happens everytime he misses being at that school and with his friends.

"I suppose you're right Meeks, it must just be that I miss you bossing me around" Charlie says and he watches as the brunnete girl perks up in front of him. He actually still couldn't believe he told her about all of them. He just hadn't told her what happened to them quite yet.

"We all miss you Nuwanda” the boy says and Charlie smiles, losing his cool and confident act with his friends. Especially when they got sentimental like this.

“Yeah, I miss you guys too. We’ll try and make plans soon” and Evelyn doesn’t miss the sad look on his face and she realizes just how much he misses his friends.

“Okay, bye guys” he says one last time before hanging up the phone and flashing a smile her way. Suddenly he’s distracted, no longer the boy who was just teasing her.

“You got your ass beat?” Evelyn questions, hoping to bring back that smile on his face. When he chuckles softly she realizes it just might’ve worked.

“That’s a story for another time, let’s get you to trivia” he says, arm falling over her shoulders and ready to escort her throughout the school. Evelyn smiles softly at him and shocks Charlie when her hand reaches up and laces with the one hanging off her shoulders.

“You’re different with your friends you know?” she tells him and Charlie nods slowly.

“Yeah well, they’ve known me for my entire life. Never got a chance to hide who I was from them” he tells her and Evelyn sighs, loving her new friendship with the boy but hating entirely that he wasn’t himself with her still.

“Is that you admitting how you hide your true self from us?” she questions again as they round the corner, eyes on the rec room set up for trivia this week.

“It was never a secret Ev, I just have a lot going on” he tells her as they push through the door and before she can question him even further they both realize fairly quickly trivia is not what’s happening here.

Alone beside a table is Nate holding a poster. A bouquet of flowers and some balloons sit on the table beside him, his eyes are hopeful until they land on Evelyn with Charlie’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and fingers laced with her own. Evelyn takes a moment to register exactly what’s happening but when she reads ‘Ev, will you go to the Valentines Dance with me?’ she’s quick to remove herself from Charlie.

“Nate, what’s going on?” she questions and Charlie takes one look at him and realizes what he should of when he first started here. Nate is in love with Evelyn.

“Uh, I’m trying to ask you to the dance” he mutters, eyes darting between the two and Evelyn is approaching him, almost in a way to not scare him.

“Why?” she questions and Nate’s eyes are quick to dart to Charlie, embarrassed that the boy was here to witness this.

“I’m gonna go” Charlie mutters and is out the door lighting fast as Evelyn searches Nate for answers.

“I just, I assumed no one had asked you yet” he says, arm gesturing to where Charlie had just made his great escape. Yet Evelyn doesn’t get what he means.

Nate means that he had assumed Charlie hadn’t already beaten him to it but based on the way the both of them walked through the door he assumed wrong. Evelyn takes it as him being good old reliable Nate. Her dear friend who doesn’t want her to attend a dance on her own. Her friend willing to give up his own date to help her. She still doesn’t get that he’s in love with her.

“Nate that’s sweet you don’t want me to go alone” she starts, trying to reach out for him and Nate realizes quickly his mistake.

“No I-”

“But I’m hosting the dance, I can’t take a date. It’s kinda business for me, not pleasure” and Nate snaps his mouth close. There was no use fighting, he’d already humiliated himself enough. At least this way he knew Evelyn wasn’t going with Charlie either. In fact she wasn’t going with anyone.

“Oh, well in that case” he says, arms starting to wrinkle the poster in his hands that he felt stupid for holding.

“It was such a sweet gesture though. I’ll save you a dance even” she tells him and Nate shakes his head with a chuckle, tossing the now mangled poster in the garbage.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about me” he says and Evelyn gives him a soft smile before pulling him in a hug.

“You’re a good friend Nate and the next dance I don’t plan, I’m all yours” she says and Nate feels his heart shatter once more because maybe everyone was right. He had waited far too long and now he never stood a chance with her.

“Sounds like a plan” he says pulling back, trying to hide the sadness written all over his face. Evelyn just smiles before looking back at the door, he assumes for Charlie.

“Well since there really isn’t any trivia, I better be off to do some homework” she tells him and Nate nods, collecting the roses and balloons on the table.

“Okay, I’ll see you later” he bids her and she smiles and waves before scurrying back off. Nate sighs and looks at the flowers and string of balloons in his hands. With a swift movement he dumps them in the trash right along with the poster and officially gives up.

Not wanting to face his room mate knowing the rejection he just faced from a girl they both liked, he starts for the doors to the outside. Determined to spend the rest of the day moping in his self pity alone.

It’s dark by the time Nate makes it back to campus. Any later and it would’ve been past curfew. He still hadn’t gotten over what had happened and worst of all he no longer had a dorm to himself. He shared it with the very guy that was stealing the girl he loved whether he realized he was or wasn’t. Yet when he reaches the door and doesn’t see any light flooding out the bottom of it, he sighs a sigh of relief.

Slipping inside as quietly as he can he changes into some pajamas and crawls into his bed. He still feels the heavy weight of crying from behind his eyes but he wouldn’t risk Charlie hearing him. So he tried to get comfy, erase the image of Evelyn denying him and friend zoning him all in one go. There was no way now he could ever prove to her his feelings, he was already in too deep.

“You said you were just friends” Nate stiffens at Charlie’s voice filling the dark room, assuming he had been asleep this whole time.

“That wasn’t a lie” Nate responds after a moment and he hears Charlie sigh.

“You should have told me you liked her” and Nate wears a confused look even though Charlie can’t see it.

“Why, you clearly like her too?” Nate says, his voice clipped and holding an anger he didn’t want to take out on the boy because Evelyn wasn’t his property.

“Yeah but if you had said when I asked, I never would’ve gotten close to her. You don’t do that to friends” and Nate feels his heart break once more this afternoon because before Evelyn and Charlie, he was hopeful for a best friend and he had let that get away from. He had spent so much time resenting him to even realize Charlie might’ve finally let him in.

“We’re friends?” Nate can’t help but ask and Charlie chuckles in the night air.

“Yeah man, as much as I hate to admit it. I feel like a real shit one right now for falling for your girl like that though” and it’s finally out there. A confirmation and in the open for Nate to hear. Somehow it’s more comforting to know then harmful.

“I don’t blame you, I’ve loved her since I was thirteen. She’s one in a million” Nate says staring at the ceiling he can barely make out in the darkness.

“Why didn’t you tell her then? All those years ago?” Charlie questions and Nate shrugs into his sheets, thinking of thirteen year old him too scared to say something to her.

“I felt silly. We had been friends so long and I thought it’d be weird. After a while I just didn’t want to face rejection” Nate admits, knowing how lame he sounds. Charlie wished he could understand that, considering he told everyone exactly how he felt about them his whole life.

“This is coming from your friend, not the guy going after your girl, but you waited too long man. You became someone trustworthy to her, someone to always fall back on, reliable. Once a girl starts seeing you like that you become the guy she goes to when other guys hurt her” Nate knows it isn’t a bad thing but Charlie is right. You either become reliable in a relationship or reliable to the point of a brother, and that’s why getting out of the friend zone was so hard.

“So I shouldn’t have waited around?” he asks curiously, realizing Charlie was wiser than he expected.

“No man and you shouldn’t wait around for anything. We have one life, why waste it? You never know when it’s going to end so everyday spent waiting is one that’s lost! Carpe Diem! Seize the day!” Charlie rants, excitement hitching in his voice, and when his words resonate within him he freezes. For the first time since Neil had died that burning passion had found its way out of him and in its midst he realized exactly what he had been doing. He hadn’t been seizing the day, he was wasting it. Wasting it because he was heartbroken and if Neil could see him now he’d be pissed.

“It sounds like you know” Nate tells him, feeling the statement rattle around in his brain and hearing Charlie’s heavy breathing from across the room.

“I do Nate and no life is worth living if you can’t get the things you want out of it” he says, finally realizing exactly why Neil might’ve made the decision he did.

“Have you Charlie?” Nate asks and Charlie starts to laugh. Laugh at his own pure stupidity for wasting all this God damn time.

“No but I plan on starting tomorrow if you want to start with me?” Charlie asks and Nate grins from ear to ear. Evelyn may never see him the way he wants him to but he finally had a friend. One he made on his own. He could get over her with a friend.

“Yeah, plus I’d like to finally see you getting out there” Nate tells him and Charlie wears a matching smile that the boy cannot see.

“Can I tell you something Nate, something you won’t tell anyone until I’m ready? I just need to hear myself say it” Charlie asks, his voice desperate and pleading. All around sad and Nate can tell from across the room.

“Yeah man, whatever you need” and Charlie feels the tears pool in his eyes. He stares at his own ceiling and takes a moment to breathe.

“My best friend Neil died. He was just seventeen and when something like that happens you find life isn’t really worth living for if they’re not around” Nate freezes at the words, the truth hidden deep within the boy who had seemed so broken. Now he knew why.

“I’m so sorry Charlie. No one should lose anyone that young” Nate offers and Charlie smiles, his tears sliding down the sides of his face and into his pillow.

“Yeah but if he was here right now he’d be telling you the same thing. He didn’t want to waste a second of his life and even if he died so young I can promise you he didn’t” and for the first time in months Charlie feels a weight being lifted from his chest. The suffocating feeling he had lived with for so long.

“Carpe diem then” Nate says, finally resonating with Charlie and the truth that he carries. He was a broken man who was just trying to find his way. It can’t be easy to lose your best friend and be expelled all at once.

“Seize the day”

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Ten.

Thank you very much to all of you still keeping up with this :)

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,556

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“She’s gonna be a spoilt princess. I could fucking kill Bryn, if she weren’t dead already.” 

The way John viewed the scene before them so adoringly did not match his lightly delivered vexation, him and Polly standing and watching the heartwarming sight of Katie being led up and down the driveway aboard her new pony, Bryn's Christmas gift to her. “We agreed on a fucking rocking horse, and she goes and buys a bloody Welsh Section C!”  

“They’re a good pony for a child to begin on, so I’m told,” Tommy spoke as he joined them, a mischievous smile playing his lips as John turned with narrowed eyes. 

“You were in cahoots with her, weren’t ya?”  

He sniffed, lifting his chin. “Heels down, Katie! That’s it!”  

“Don’t fucking avoid the question, Tom!” 

His laugh rumbled, watching as Bryn circled them around at the top of the drive and ran back up again, the little dun coloured pony trotting along neatly as her new owner squealed and giggled with delight from the saddle. “Might’ve lent a hand in the purchase.”  

John continued to mutter, chewing on his toothpick as Polly gave him a shove with her elbow. “Oh, come on, John. Like you didn’t buy out half of Rackham’s toy department for her as it was! A pony isn’t that different to some of those fancy rocking horses they had there, too. Have you seen the price some of them fetch? Holy shit.” 

“Yeah, but a real horse ain’t got its hooves nailed to a bit of wood, has it? A real horse eats a fuckload of hay and needs shiny bits of expensive metal nailing to its feet, and everything else that comes with ‘em! Bloody money pits, they are.” 

“John?” Tommy questioned, placing his hand onto his shoulder, his brother still viewing him from under a somewhat furrowed brow. “You aren’t exactly short of a bob or two now, are you? Stop being a misery and look how happy your little girl is. My stable lads will look after the pony, and Katie can come up here whenever she likes to ride him.”  

“Yeah, and that’s all gonna be on me, ain’t it, since fanny Anne over there is conveniently asleep all fucking day!” His continued pissed off splutters had his aunt and brother in soft fits, fanny Anne herself overhearing his protests.  

“Tommy is right, John,” Bryn called, halting her jog as she and Katie arrived back with them. “Stop being a misery.” Lifting Katie from the pony, she placed the tot down, watching her run back into the house as one of the stable boys led her favourite Christmas present back to the stables. John shook his head, pulling her close as the others entered the house. 

“For that, you’ll go over my fucking knee, Brynhild.” 

“Oooh,” she purred, stroking his cheek with her fingernail. “Is that a promise?” 

His hand found the round of her bum, smacking it hard several times. “Get in the fucking house.” 

Christmas Day dinner was always eaten on the evening in the Shelby household, the day itself preceded by gift giving and light snacks, plenty of port and whiskey, and a jolly good time had by all. John had felt a little bit out of sorts for not having Bryn by his side until 5pm when the sun had finally melted into the wintery horizon, Katie too making her displeasure known. 

It had been tricky, deciding what to tell the child in order to explain why she only ever saw Bryn in the evenings, John deciding simplicity was the best. “Sunlight makes her poorly, pige, so that’s why we only see Bryn at nighttime.” She’d taken her father’s word as easily as he’d delivered it, luckily. He’d reveal the truth to her when she was old enough to understand what it meant to be a vampire, feeling that four years old was much too young to truly grasp the concept.  

Before the merriment could continue, the matter of the spy locked up in the butler’s pantry had to be dealt with, Bryn, John and Polly going down to see to it themselves while everyone else assembled in the lounge. John picked up the telephone where Bryn had left it the previous night before descending the steps, the three of them waiting until the coast was clear of serving staff who were bustling around.  

“Good evening, young lady,” Bryn spoke as they entered, finding a very disgruntled looking Helen on the opposing side of the door. “I believe you have a telephone call to make, hmm?” 

The girl wanted nothing more than to scream for help, cry out the injustice done to her, but she knew no ears within the household that could hear would come to her aid. She was alone, discovered as a spy, with thirty pounds to show for her trouble. Taking the receiver she was handed, she made the call, uttering the lie she had been fed while the vampire who had instructed her stared unflinchingly, taking the phone away again once she was done.  

“Now I shall escort you upstairs to pack your belongings, as Mr. Shelby has directed me to escort you from the property as swiftly as possible,” she spoke, while John untied her bindings one by one, Polly observing from the corner.  

Shoving Helen in Bryn’s direction, he picked up the rope, beginning to coil it in his strong hands, watching the way his vampire lover viewed him do so with keen interest. “Don’t think I’ll put all of this back where I found it.”  

Bryn returned the wink he gave her before escorting Helen out, leaving him and Polly behind in the pantry, the latter letting out a long breath before picking up a bottle of gin and pulling the cork out.  

“Well, that’s that almost done with.” Holding the bottle to her lips, she downed a mouthful, her face pinching as she swallowed. “Fuck, I don’t know how people can drink this shit! Tastes like perfume.” 

Going into his pocket, John retrieved his hip flask, unscrewing the cap and taking a long glug of the whiskey within, passing it to his aunt. “Me neither.” Taking the flask back, he swigged from it again, sighing as he screwed his eyes tightly shut. “We can’t trust no one. I ain’t even sure that she’s the only one who’s been sent by ‘em. Surely Edward wouldn’t be so fucking stupid as to only send one down here, eh?” 

“One’s all it takes, John. Besides, if it was anybody else in the house with her, reason dictates they likely would have freed her and ran for it while we were all sleeping, regardless of Bryn’s little blood link insurance policy,” Polly advised, lighting up a cigarette. “You’re right, though. This is the time we circle the wagons. Any new people sniffing around should be treated even more suspiciously than usual. I’m going to have a word with Bryn, too. I’ve been thinking. Those tattoos of hers, lovely that they are, are a fucking giveaway. She needs to extend her makeup down from her face and neck, or not show off her tits quite as much.” 

“Shame,” John sniffed, lighting himself a cigar, “they’re fucking cracking tits.” 

She rolled her eyes, opening the door. “Come on, you bloody letch. Let’s see to her getting the fuck off the property.” They headed back up the stairs, hovering by the door only a short time before Bryn and Helen joined them, the latter clutching her small bag in a tight grip. The outside air was crisp, a smattering of snow still present on the ground as she was marched away from the homestead and up the driveway. 

“How am I to get away from here now? Where do I stay?” 

Polly laughed a little bitterly, a final drag taken on her cigarette before she flicked it away. “Should have thought of that before, shouldn’t you, girl?” 

“Could I please have a car take me into town?” 

It was Bryn who laughed this time, her hand reaching out to cup at the back of her neck. “There is no point, Helen. You shan’t be leaving the property.” With a snap, her fangs bared, gleaming white through the darkness. “Ever.”  

Like lightning, her mouth clamped onto her neck, her hand muffling Helen’s scream as she began to drain her. Polly’s eyes rounded in horror, John a little taken aback, but more accepting of the outcome. Bryn wasn’t stupid; he had wondered if she truly intended to let the Rasmussen spy leave with her life intact.  

As soon as she felt her heartbeat still, her body was dropped onto the drive, Bryn licking her lips before receding her fangs once more.  

“Oh, Polly,” she sighed, placing a hand upon her hip as she gestured to the corpse. “Surely, you did not forget what I am beneath the charming woman you are coming to know, hmm? You might not have grounds to fear me, but anybody who crosses me does.” 

“If I did, Brynhild, you’ve certainly reminded me. Holy shit,” she spoke, lighting herself another cigarette.  

“I couldn’t risk her leaving here with only her word that she would say nothing. If someone’s word can be bought, then it is not to be trusted.” Looking down at the corpse, she felt not an ounce of anything, the coldness in her vampiric nature not stirred at all. “She served her purpose; did the job she was paid for. Now, she can do no more.” 

“I suppose Tommy gave you his blessing?”  

Not much got past Polly. “Indeed, he did. Now, can one of you tell me where I might find a shovel?”  

“Round by the stables, next to where they keep the saddles an’ all that.” John told her, Bryn disappearing and reappearing in a flash. Polly headed back to the house, John watching as Bryn struck into the frozen ground, the soil crumbling like sand under the power she wielded the shovel with. Usually, it would have taken two grown men about an hour to dig through frozen soil. For Bryn, she had dug out a deep pit in just over five minutes.  

“Okay,” she spoke, pulling the thirty pounds she had given to Helen the previous evening from her apron, looking down at the corpse with distaste. “Put her in.”  

John rolled the cadaver until it fell from the edge and into the deep pit, thinking what a good job Bryn had done. It was at least eight feet deep. With their inconvenience buried, Bryn also dragging various debris over the unmarked grave so that the plot did not stand out, they headed back to the house arm in arm to join the festivities as if nothing had ever happened.  

Once there, they sat down at the long table with the rest of the family, enjoying the warmth from the fire as they ate dinner, Arthur being Arthur and proposing a very drunken toast that mostly consisted of cussing and hiccupping. Once the children had gone to bed, the later evening saw the arrival of a few close friends, Johnny Dogs among them, John not able to immediately offer an introduction as Bryn had excused herself to tuck Katie in.  

“So, you’re still alive, John? Not come to anything bad on those teeth now, eh?” he joked, John being able to detect the slight trepidation in his demeanour he was attempting to mask with humour.  

“Nah, nothing bad,” he replied, grinning to himself at the memory of just how erotic it was, to be bitten by a vampire. It never failed to do something to him that no human woman could ever compare with. It was fair to say, in fact, that the living had been ruined for John now he’d had a taste of what immortal felt like to fuck.  

Johnny laughed, waving a finger. “Oh, now would you look at that grin on the boy? That’s a grin of a... Jesus fucking wept!” His words were halted by the fact that in the space it took him to blink, John suddenly wasn’t standing alone beside the fire, an elegant looking woman in a dark green beaded dress appearing at his side. “Oh... oh so you’re the shadow walker girl, are ya? Oh, I see now, yes... yes. Um. Yes.”  

Johnny’s usual bravado becoming dented further with every syllable uttered had John snort laughing into his whiskey glass, the gypsy continuing. “Oh now, you understand me apprehension here? There’s a lotta bad blood between my folk and yours, there is?”  

“Not from my personal perspective, Johnny,” she spoke, halting his hand where he rapidly pointed between himself and her, stroking the back of it as she transmitted her energy onto him, calming his nerves. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Brynhild.” 

“You’re a Scandinavian girl, are ya? Oh, you must be with a name like that, eh?” 

“I am Norwegian, yes,” she confirmed, Johnny still taking a time to calm as his muscles stiffened. Bless his heart, though. He was trying his hardest.  

“Oh well that’s grand, so? I bet you get some fucking terrible winters all the way up there?”  

Bryn gave John a gentle shove as he shook with silent laughter. “We do, yes.” 

“Now tell me, love. You’re not hungry, are ya? Because I know you shadow walkers like the gypsy blood? I don’t want to be getting bitten, so, so if you could keep them teeth away, I’d be thanking you!”  

That was the moment John erupted completely, Bryn not able to bite back her smile. Oh, he was such a card. “Trust me, Johnny. My preferred blood source is standing right next to me.”  

His eyebrows almost vanished off his forehead entirely. “Now there’s a thing?” His eyes darted between them uncomfortably for a few moments. “Well, if that’s what tickles your fancy, John. And, and why not, if you like it? I mean I’m not making aspersions or nothing! If it floats your boat, and um, yours too, Brynhild. I’ll erm, I’ll go and say hello to Tommy now.”  

“Fucking hell!” he wheezed, him and Bryn both in mild hysterics as Johnny shot across the room, calling out to Tommy. “I ain’t ever seen a fella work so hard not to die of fright in all me life!” 

“I’m surprised he didn’t begin to glisten beneath his eyes with the effort, the poor man,” Bryn chuckled, composing herself. “I am sure once he’s used to me, he might calm down a little bit.”  

“I kind of hope he doesn’t, because I’ve never seen Dogs so flustered before and fuck, it’s gonna entertain me for ages, that!” he laughed, pulling Bryn close and kissing her cheek. The gathering lasted into the small hours, John and Bryn the first to depart to their room, Bryn flicking her hand in the direction of the fireplace as soon as they entered. The flames roared into life, the hearth sparkling amber as heat began to sweep through the chill of the room.  

“Right, now you’re probably wondering why it is you ain’t had your Christmas present from me yet,” John began, taking her hands and bringing them to his mouth, kissing her cool fingers as he smiled adoringly at her.  

She began to nod, her grin a little twisted at the corner. “I had thought it to be somewhat lacking, yes, this much is true.”  

His smile grew, while on the inside, his heartbeat began to thrum in frenzy, nerves washing through him. “Well, that’s because I wanted it to be just you and me when I gave it to ya.” Taking a small box from his pocket, Bryn’s hands flew to her mouth with a gasp as she watched him drop down to one knee before her. “Brynhild, I know it hasn’t been long, but you mean more to me than any other woman ever has or will. I love you, sweetheart. Will you marry me?”  

Her eyes filled with tears, nodding rapidly. “Yes! Oh, my various gods above, a thousand times yes!” 

“Good,” he hummed, winking at her as he flipped the box open. “You can have this now.” 

There within sat on a little cushion indent, was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. It was an emerald cut diamond, flanked by an art deco arrangement of smaller ones that all extended around onto the platinum band it was set upon. “It’s engraved an’ all.” 

Taking the ring from the box as he stood, she studied the inside of the band, gasping softly. 

My immortal beloved 

“Oh, John!” Her tears fell like crimson rain as he slid it onto her finger, taking his pocket square so she could dab them away, placing a kiss upon the tip of her nose.  

“Don’t you ever say I can’t be romantic.”  

“I never, ever would, my love,” she told him, falling into kisses that felt never ending as they began to strip one another of their clothes.  

“I love you,” he breathed, moving her hair from her neck. “I love you.” His lips met the side of her throat, hands cupping her waist to lift her. “I love you.” Clasping her tightly to him, he carried her to the bed, lying her down, thinking how he’d never seen a woman look at him in the way she was in that moment, his mouth falling to hers once more.  

His bee stung lips closed in a suck upon the pebbled peak of her nipple, fingers trailing through the petals of her cunt, pushing inside her, slick wet awaiting his touch. The rotation he used had her hips bucking against his hand, Bryn clasping his face and kissing him with filthy indulgence. Her groan poured out rich and rumbling, especially when his thumb moved to rub sparks at her clit.  

She was virtually dizzy with pleasure when he finally replaced his fingers with something much thicker, his mouth sucking lilac welts against her neck. His body became flecked with the goose pimples from the sensual glide of her nails down his back, charging across his freckled skin like a herd of wild horses. His arm trailed down her body, hooking beneath her leg and levering it forward until it touched her chest, his hand grasping her throat as he pinned her to the bed.  

The way it allowed his cock to sink in deeper had her wailing, teeth nibbling along her jaw, tongue following the patterns of the tattoos that swirled across her chest. His girth dragged at her, making her wetter around him, John utterly saturated with the gloss of her arousal as his hips began to drive like a piston.  

“Fuck.” He gritted, teeth grazing her throat, the wild heat rising between them both, his mouth swallowing down each of her little cries as their lips met, whispering his love tenderly. It was a heavenly juxtapose to how brutally he began to fuck her.   

Their kisses became magmatic, his forehead pressing to hers as he stared unflinchingly into the crystal blue of her eyes, until the fluttering of her cunt had him closing his eyes tightly, burying his mouth at her neck as he groaned almost helplessly.   

He lost any tentative threads of control, his thrusts staccato, cock making constellations burst through the hug of her molten walls, Bryn’s nails digging into his shoulders as she clung to him, rolling her hips up to meet each barbarously delivered thrust. The lightning jumped from strike point to strike point as the storm swelled and crashed, her entire body alight as he pulsed jets of hot cum within her.   

Utterly spent, breathless and all that was electrifying ebbing away, the sparks still gently fizzed through them as they stroked one another, sharing tender kisses. Everything was warm, serene and lazy, words of love whispered, adoration abounding. He fell asleep still inside of her that night, Bryn enjoying his warmth before gently moving him beneath the covers, getting up to go and sit upon the wide windowsill. 

Watching the diamonds sparkle upon her finger, she looked out into the pale blue of the moonlight, her eyes glancing back to where John slept. She knew that running was no longer an option, and it should never have been. An existence exiled from her offspring, standing behind those of power for protection, driven by her fear of being captured again was not who she was.  

Closing her eyes, her memories took her back over a thousand years, back to the siege upon Mercia, Bryn stood before a heathen army of a hundred Vikings, her heathen army. She heard her own bellowing war cry, their advancement descending the great hill in which they had waited atop, running into the valley to meet the oncoming men, while from the east and west, the remaining two hundred of her army had encircled the Mercian’s entirely.  

Wiping out those who stood in her way was in her blood. She had lived and breathed it in her human life, after all. Now, she had to find her way back to it in order to secure her future. Now was no longer the time for hiding. Now was the time to remember who she was.  

Now was the time for war.  

[acciojaeyun]

day 1: somnophilia (kurt kunkle)

pairing: kurt kunkle x fem!reader warnings: non-consensual, 18+, dark themes, masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, perv!kurt, reader is uploading masturbation videos on ph, masturbation (m), marking

a/n: phew, i got carried away!

When Kurt stumbled upon her PornHub account, he had to remember when he had seen her. Not the persona she had to muster in front of the camera tilted in such a way anyone who watches her video would get a glimpse of her in such intimate personal view — the real her.

Now, Kurt might’ve taken a huge amount of his Spree trying to remember who she was and when and where he did exactly meet her, zoning out and driving silently instead of chatting up with the passengers for content; that was, until, when Facebook notified for a new memory to look back into, that’s when he remembered she was the Y/N Y/L/N. The only woman whose ground Kurt worshipped incessantly.

And it took not days, weeks, but months of stalling before finally having the confidence to message her on her account. Kurt might have spent half of his Spree savings on Y/N, sending her donations and whatnot, and while it gave him the satisfaction of seeing her smile in front of the camera as she mentions his pen name, it wasn’t the same as feeling the real thing now.

After a couple of messages here and there, the man had finally made a connection with the girl; with sensitive details being divulged as how she takes sleeping pills because she has a hard time sleeping on a Sunday night before her retail work in the morning.

It was in the same conversation when Kurt finally coaxed her address out of her, promising her that he’d meet them at 8 o'clock on Sunday – leaving an important detail, the exact time when he'd be exactly meeting her.

Y/N waited for confirmation on Kurt's end, even though she promised herself not to get too attached to the mystery man behind the donations she receives whenever she goes live. Hence, she fell asleep after having her pills five minutes before eight in the evening.

It's been five minutes since Kurt started staring at her figure immersed in deep slumber.

"C-could just take you right here, yeah?" Kurt whispered most likely to himself. Retrieving his phone from his back pocket, he turned his phone into silent mode before walking towards her figure sprawled out on the bed.

Kurt ran the back of his hands across her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear so gently, in the hopes of not waking her up. "Y-you look so fucking pretty like that, i-it's not fucking fair," Kurt groaned, feeling his erection strain across his dark grey joggers.

With the lights of the room turned off, he turned on the flash of his phone, and for a split moment, he thought of taking a photo of you in your vulnerable state.

That is for another day.

He practically jumped on her sleeping figure, not even caring about the way that she could eventually wake up had he been a bit more careless about the whole ordeal.

But Kurt was more than careful, in fact, he could care less. He held her jaw in his hands, manoeuvring her face so that it was facing him with cheeks puffed out by the pressure of his hands gripping both sides of her face.

For the first time in his life, Kurt had been so quiet. It was like taking an examination that was worth his life, he committed the frail time in taking in her appearance, memorising parts of her which he'd be much more familiarised with in the long run.

He pushed his thumb inside her mouth, reeling in the feeling of her thick tongue on the pad of his thumb. Kurt, groaning at the sensation, adjusted his position, placing his crotch right above her cunt as he started to grind while his thumb moved inside her mouth.

Holy fuck, you're a heavy sleeper, Kurt thought to himself.

Pushing himself above her figure in slumber, he pushed her nightgown until her collarbones, exposing her body right before him. And it took all of Kurt's willpower not to grab his dick and mercilessly pound himself into you.

"I-it's as if you knew that I was visit - going to fuck - going to make love to you so hard," he moaned before looking at her face. Kurt leaned forward, licking the expanse of her temples down to her cheeks, groaning at the taste of her body and sweat that has started to form.

It was as if your body was reacting to whatever he was doing.

"You taste so good," he moaned, before licking down to her jaw, down to her neck, before situating himself on her breasts. Biting down on the crevice between her breasts, Kurt was determined to at least mark her, she wouldn't mind, he'd convince himself.

And that was all it took before Kurt decided to litter her torso with hickeys, varying in dark blue and purple after its fresh magenta hue. His hands grabbed Y/N's left breast, his hand slowly kneading and squeezing, and as he had grown accustomed to it, Kurt squeezed her nipple, hard, and slapped the side of her boob.

His mouth attached to her right, tongue swirling and teeth biting down on the sore, hardened nipple. His hips grinding on her crotch, Kurt detached his mouth from her breast, gasping for air, before switching his ordeal. His right hand, which was primarily unoccupied, was now fondling her pillowy breast.

His left hand travelled down, and with his mind complaining how her nighttime thong had been nothing but a restraint between his clothed cock and her pussy, he pulled down the thong just a bit, and oh, fuck, she was fucking wet.

Kurt wasted no time, plunging his fingers inside her, he almost whined at how her body seemed to react to his intrusion. Cunt easily letting his long fingers slide inside, and its walls tightening just right around him.

"God, baby," Kurt groaned loudly, and he was sure he was close to coming at the feeling of her. He looked down in disbelief, he was finger-fucking her. At the thought, he immediately plunged in another finger, and what has been two fingers became three, and now it was four.

The lad chuckled, "Could fit my whole fist in here and you'd still be in your slumber, huh, babe?"

He hoisted himself down whilst his fingers were still in her dripping hole, and Kurt didn't waste time latching his mouth on her cunt. Kurt smirked at how her body involuntarily jerked, a reaction he was hoping he could witness.

The pace of his fingers and mouth quickened, with his fingers curling into her, and his teeth occasionally biting her labia. Kurt was almost in a lustful haze, he was grinding on the expanse of the bed, and as he felt her walls tighten more, he knew, she was close.

He expanded his fingers, widely scissoring her and he bit his lip, looking at how her thighs were practically shaking, "Fuck, yes, tighten yourself around me, are you gonna come now, baby?"

"Yes, you are, you're going to fucking come," he laughed in disbelief, on how it was easy making her fall apart, and he halted his hips, knowing full well that it wasn't his pants on which he wanted to come, it was her.

And he gasped as she did come, in such a heavy amount, at that. He gaped, at the warm liquid crippling on his fingers, and he had to remind himself to push his fingers out, a string of cum following his fingers. Then, pushing his fingers inside his mouth, he almost cried at her taste, it was addicting.

Momentarily lost at the taste that she exuded, Kurt's thoughts were halted as he felt her slightly move in her slumber, making Kurt freeze. He then pushed himself up, knees knelt beside each of her legs, and he slightly pulled down his trousers mid-thigh before wrapping his hands around his member in such haste, and he immediately found the rhythm towards his orgasm.

He pumped himself harshly, thumb running across his slit every once in a while, he gathered some of her releases and wrapped it around his shaft, making her cum makeshift lubrication to replace the one your pussy has when he finally pushes his dick inside you soon.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, bloody - shit, gonna come,"

It was pathetic. How easy he is to fall apart just by fingering her, kissing her, and marking her, as her consciousness waved off in sleep.

He tugged on his throbbing cock, and sooner enough, without him even registering at first, he was coming - hard. Harder than she ever did. He aimed his cum to be released on her stomach, then to her thighs, and just atop her pussy.

Kurt thinks she had pills, anyway.

After coming, his finger stroked down your stomach, tracing with his fingers soaked in his cum, his initial.

Y/N was Kurt's.

kinktober taglist: @wonderwoman292 @fancy-pantaloons @baddiebbarbietngz @baker0703 @aki-ham @ilovekurtmorethanilovemylife @flynn-thebin @weasleybeeley @wildfire-whizbangs @ekavamonfort @princess-paramour @jjssfilmss @zvummyummy @theresa-b @herejustforjj @the-sander-fander @enchantingpostfire

kurt taglist: @nega-omega

mentions in bold are uns which cannot be tagged!

[esta-elavaris]

Fallen Through Time

Part Ten [2,428 words]

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - *Part Ten* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @missfronkensteen @teawithshakespeare @dancerinthestorm

The books gifted to her by Captain Norrington ended up being a blessing in more ways than one. Yes, it was a relief to see that they were finally on good terms, and that she was at least somewhat sure now that she could talk to him without walking into any unknown bear traps set by his suspicious mind (a good thing, too, because her next course of action would’ve been to serenade him with that one Elvis song, and it would’ve never worked). But the books themselves offered her a way of getting out of the house without being doomed to wander and loiter under the scrutiny of every person who happened to pass by.

They still scrutinised, of course, but at least now she was much too absorbed in the words under her nose to notice them. It also meant she wasn’t stuck with the dilemma of whether to return their stare with one arched eyebrow until they became embarrassed and looked away, or to suddenly pretend to find some aspect of the scenery very interesting until they removed their gaze of their own accord. The former solution was a fun little game to play if she was feeling combative, but it wouldn’t win her any friends.

So, on a few mornings a week when Elizabeth was otherwise occupied with the convoluted minutiae that went into being one of Port Royal’s leading ladies, she would slip out after breakfast – a packed lunch of her own making in hand, as well as Norrington’s books. It was as close as she could get to the concept of simple pleasures, seeing as she sorely lacked the ability to go out and buy herself a mocha followed by a trip to a book shop, but it was much closer than she’d have been able to get without Norrington’s help.

For that, she was grateful. She had much to be grateful for, of that she was fully aware – especially since the reality of her situation sank in, and she stopped feeling like she was wandering through a very strange, and alarmingly lucid dream. Luck had played a big factor in her circumstances. After all, she was not begging on the street, as she might’ve been stuck doing if none had found her. She hadn’t been branded a pirate and hanged, as she might’ve been had Norrington found her. Her biggest worry was passing the hours and preparing, mentally, for Jack’s arrival – and that was a rosy prospect when compared with fears of starvation or lack of shelter.

It wasn’t so much that she doubted her ability to get by under duress, but it was nice not to have to. She’d certainly have no time to sit beneath palm trees by the sea reading books in that world – and it proved such a distraction that she didn’t even notice Norrington’s approach until his shadow fell over her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Byrne,” he eyed her like he wasn’t quite sure what he was up to.

Then again, that had long become his habit – and she was quickly growing used to it.

“Hello, Captain. Is it afternoon already? The books were more of a blessing than I could’ve guessed – I’ve been absorbed since morning,” she said.

“I noticed,” he said, his eyes flickering in the direction of where the Interceptor sat in the water a ways off.

“I’m not sitting right in the middle of another notoriously un-sound site, am I?” she asked, bemused by the admission.

“No – not at all, I…”

Then, though, he must’ve realised the implications of what’s he’d said – like he’d been watching her, for he cleared his throat and continued.

“You’ve gotten through it remarkably quickly,” he nodded to the copy of Meditations, now sitting amidst her many skirts.

Realising she was probably being rude, she made to rise but he stopped her with a gesture, considered her for a moment, and then slowly – reluctantly – lowered himself down to sit beside her. “Even for one who can read.”

He made the joke watching her closely, like he was half-worried she wouldn’t find it funny at all. But she did, not least because it surprised her, and she breathed a laugh.

“I’ll probably read it a few times before I return it to you. Just to save me treating your house like a library I’m not actually banned from. I have to ask, though, am I robbing you of your lunch break again?”

“I seldom take it. Not to eat, in any case – I find it slows me down,” he denied. “Although I see you brought yours with you.”

“I won’t be the idiot who tries to explain the importance of good nutrition to a military man,” she snorted, glancing in the direction of the half of the sandwich she had not yet touched. “Did you like the one I made you? I didn’t know if it was weird of me, but I wanted to do…something, and my resources are limited. Seemed to defeat the point if I was just having the Swanns do something in my name.”

“It was confusing – the dish, not the gesture. That was unusual, perhaps, but the sentiment was appreciated all the same.”

“It’s quite clever actually,” she replied. “The bread lets you eat without your hands ending up covered in food – so you can eat while you work. Or read, in my case. So I won’t be returning your books with greasy little fingerprints all over them. A good on-the-go meal.”

Although side-stepping the name – just in case the Earl of Sandwich was a good friend of the Swanns – felt a little awkward. As she explained it, though, an odd sort of change overcame Norrington’s face, and then he cleared his throat and made a noise that was caught somewhere between a laugh and a cough.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“That…makes more sense.”

“Makes more sense than what?”

“It’s no matter,” he shook his head.

But Theo was like a dog with a bone by that point.

“Don’t tell me you deconstructed it.”

His lips thinned, and she had to remind herself that this was not the sort of man that she could joke around with like that. Groves, maybe, but not Norrington. Then, however, he surprised her by sighing and admitting drily.

“I’m unused to meals that are supposed to come with a set of instructions. A product of my time at sea, no doubt, where dining is altogether simpler.”

Theo laughed, mostly because of his surprising willingness to talk nonsense with her.

“That’s not true – I’ve seen the amount of lobster and crab served around here. That’s an obstacle course disguised as a meal.”

He smirked, bowing his head as he did so as if to hide his mirth. But it shone through in his words.

“Dangerous words, Miss Byrne. They’ll see you uninvited from every dinner party in the port.”

“Do me a favour and repeat the story, then. Loudly and for all to hear,” Theo grinned, a twinkle in her eye.

Although with that said, she feared the topic was steering towards the less than fun time she’d had of it among Port Royal’s best and brightest, so she picked up the half of the sandwich she had not yet touched.

“Here. My eyes were bigger than my stomach. Have it, or it’ll go to waste.”

“I could not rob you of yours.”

“I’m not hungry – and considering how you thought the last one was supposed to be eaten, I’m amazed it wasn’t taken as an act of Irish aggression.”

He sighed, and then eyed it. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Relenting – much to her surprise – he took up the sandwich from the cloth she’d wrapped it in, eyed it, and then took a bite. Theo picked up her book and opened it at the page she’d marked, pretending to read it more than actually eating it. Nobody liked to be creeped on while they ate.

“I’ll admit, Miss Byrne, that I am glad I relented and gave it a second chance,” he said after a few minutes.

She looked up with a little smile, finding a chunk of it gone as he considered the rest. When she next glanced to the Interceptor, she found a few of his men by the nearest rail, turning their gaze in their direction every now and then. Looking back to Norrington, she expected him to make an excuse to quickly leave, but instead he appeared unimpressed at worst, and then spoke again.

“What passage are you at?”

“What? Oh- erm,” she picked the book up, suddenly feeling just the slightest bit nervous as she opened it.

So much had been made of her ability to read, it would be embarrassing now if she arsed up the words and proved herself to actually be illiterate, wouldn’t it?

“If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment,” she read.

At first he was silent, and she wondered if he was just busy eating, but when she next looked at him the sandwich was still in hand, and he was hesitating rather than chewing.

“Do you disagree?” she asked – although she didn’t think he did.

“No,” he admitted readily enough. “But it seems a poor consolation in your current circumstance.”

“Not at all,” she said, and then faltered.

Not because she didn’t know what to say, but because there was a lot that she could say on that score. Her earlier thoughts on how lucky she’d been, on how much worse everything could be. And then there were the constant reminders she firmly gave herself over and over – that her wits had gotten her this far, not only in Port Royal, but in life. What point was there in not trusting them now? When she needed them most? As she dithered, he finished the sandwich, apparently content not to rush her.

“I’ve been lucky,” she settled for. “The only distress that I’ll find here is that which I’ll unleash upon myself – if I decide to be all…fatalistic about everything. Speaking of, actually, there’s another bit here. Accept the things to which fate binds you, but do so with all your heart.”

There was a bit in the middle that she’d carefully omitted – and love the people with whom fate brings you to. The last thing she needed to do was read that out and have him think she was out here husband-hunting, of all things.

“It hasn’t been a difficult thing to accept. Compared to the other, more likely scenarios that could’ve played out. Drowning, becoming shark food…washing up elsewhere.”

“The latter is markedly less disastrous than the previous two.”

“I washed up into the lap of kind folk,” she snorted. “That’s rare. I really beat the odds. I’ll tell you what, though, I’ll never take up gambling in my life – I think I’ve used up all my luck for life since coming here.”

“I shan’t argue with the logic if the end result is wise,” he said drily. “But on that note, I must take my leave. And thank you once again for feeding me.”

“You provide the food for thought,” she brandished the book. “It’s the least I can do.”

He snorted as he stood and bowed his head in farewell – regarding her strangely, albeit with another one of those reluctant chuckles, when she saluted him in parting.

As James went about his duties for the rest of the day, Miss Byrne was never far from his mind. Even if he’d found her intolerable, he would have still gone to speak to her – for he saw no other course of action. If Miss Swann was right, and he was beginning to suspect her way of thinking was much more on the mark than his original line of thought, then Port Royal’s newest resident, then he knew that Miss Byrne would only confide in him (as a role of authority here) if she saw that he truly was amicable. When he wished to be. Sometimes.

Admittedly, none could ever accuse him of being personable, but he was at least fair. He could be turned to in a matter such as this, to handle it with whatever delicacy was required. There were no delusions in his mind that they would become great friends, nor that she would more readily confide in him over Elizabeth thanks to something such as friendship, but she had to see that he was a trusted figure - one that would protect the good folk here. And it was looking more and more as if she was one of those good folk. Strange, perhaps, but good.

All of this was true, and all of it was sincere. It was just a somewhat surprising after-effect that he did not find her intolerable. Even as he'd been perfectly prepared to go to her and bite his tongue through all manner of inanities, solely in the name of building a rapport that would prove useful later. In fact, the more they spoke, the more he found himself strangely enjoying her company rather than merely tolerating it, or putting on a show of finding it entertaining.

Throughout the rest of the day, he attended to his work aboard the Interceptor, readying it for their next voyage – a short one, merely aimed at maintaining peace and safety on the surrounding waters rather than rooting out any ill-folk. As he did, though, he found himself repeatedly glancing in the direction where she sat beneath her tree, never once looking up from the book.

Towards the end of the day – when a warm, glowing afternoon was beginning to fade to a cool evening – he looked back to that same patch, deciding that if she was still there, then the gentlemanly thing to do would be presenting an offer to walk her back to the mansion, as a matter of safety…and found himself feeling oddly disappointed when she was no longer there. And that ran the risk of becoming rather dangerous indeed.

[rafesveryrealgf]

Two’s better than one | chapter 1

(Rafe x reader | Topper x reader)

Warning: NON CANON, curse words, sexual innuendos, cheating, toxic!topper, alcohol, arguing, toxic relationship

Synopsis: you might’ve fallen for your boyfriend, Topper’s best friend, Rafe.

A/N: I don’t condone cheating, just thought it would make a good story

You leaned against the wall, drink in your hand, eyeing your boyfriend, Topper, who was just across the room. He was too drunk, and too into the beer pong game he was playing with his friends to be paying attention to the way you watched him.

It was nothing new. Topper had dragged you to yet another party; this party, only to leave you alone.

Annoyed at the fact that your boyfriend said you both could leave an hour ago; before he got distracted, you pushed your back off the wall, storming towards your boyfriend.

You slightly nudged him when he didn’t notice you standing next to him.

“Dude.” he turned his head, now looking down at you.

“You said we could leave an hour ago.” You were now furious with the way he rolled his eyes at you.

“Let me just finish-,”

“Whatever, goodbye, Topper.” You tossed your now empty solo cup at him before walking towards the front door to leave.

You were now walking, alone, at night, which should’ve scared you, but you were too focused on how pissed you were at Topper for ditching you, again, and making you stay, knowing he was your ride, and you had a curfew.

You were a little startled when you saw, out of your peripheral vision that a truck was slowing down.

That was until a familiar voice called out to you.

“Yo,” he called out. “Need a ride?”

You turned your head to see, Rafe with one arm out his truck, and his head out the window

Rafe had been at the same party as you too, and more than likely saw you storm off, away from Topper.

You were hesitant, and Rafe could absolutely tell.

“C’mon. I don’t bite.” He jerked his head, gesturing for you to get in.

Rafe wasn’t necessarily someone you would want to voluntarily get in a car with, especially after all the things you’d heard about him, but he was Toppers best friend, and he’d never given you any problems before.

in this moment you just wanted to get home, and your feet were strained from the harsh ground you were walking on.

You walked around to the passenger side of his truck, and got in.

“Thank you.” You murmured, fastening your seatbelt.

“It’s no problem. Was headed this way any way.” He shrugged.

He continued driving as you gave him directions to your house.

You were stunned by the fact he’d even stopped for you. I mean honestly, he’d never even really spoke to you before. You and Topper had been together for a year so it was kind of weird that this was first time Rafe really acknowledged you.

You were overall grateful though.

Topper probably wouldn’t have even noticed you were gone until he was actually, ready to go home.

You, and Topper knew each other since kids, both growing up on figure eight, your parents pushed you to be close.

When Topper was twelve he’d realized he liked you, and when you turned fourteen you realized you might’ve had a little bit of feelings for him as well.

Once you were both sixteen you made it official, it started off good, and it was still kind of good, but the spark was gone.

The excitement of having your first boyfriend was gone.

You and Topper were each others first every thing, so naturally, you were attached to him, but you missed the way everything felt so exciting in the beginning, like sneaking out to see each other at night, and going to parties together without being ditched by him.

“Why were you walking alone?” He pulled you out your thoughts, looking over at you then back on the road.

One of his hands was on the steering wheel while the other sat besides him.

You looked over towards him for a brief moment.

“Topper. Topper was taking forever to leave a party we were at, and I kinda have a curfew.”

He nodded.

“Hm. Kinda shitty of him.”

You were taken aback by his words.

He talked about him as if that wasn’t his best friend.

“Yeah, yeah. He got side tracked, and I mean I get it. Have your fun or, whatever,” You rambled. “But at least respect me enough to take me home when I ask.”

You were just ranting at this point. Still upset your boyfriend couldn’t respect your curfew.

He looked over to you once again, and nodded as if he was actually listening to your rant.

He let you rant some more, and didn’t complain. Despite that being his best friend, he knew what Topper did was wrong, and you deserved to rant a little bit so, he let you.

Once he pulled into your driveway you sat for a moment.

“Thank you, like, seriously.” You smiled.

He returned the smile, and nodded.

You looked back at him one more time before opening his car door, and hopping out the truck.

And just as you were about to shut the truck door,

“Y’know, if Topper ever decides to leave you hangin’, again,” he spoke. “I got you.”

You nodded, smiling as you shut the door, walking up to your house.

His truck sat there until you unlocked the door with your key and walked inside.

When you got inside, you went up to your room, laying your house key on your nightstand.

You were exhausted to say the least.

You took off your tube top, and jean shorts, leaving you in only bra, and panties, You walked over to your closet, and picked out an oversized crew neck to sleep in.

You finished brushing your teeth, and washing your face, and walked out your bathroom. Just as you made it to your bed about to turn off your night lamp, there was a tap at your window.

You rolled your eyes already having an idea of who it could possibly be.

You pulled back your curtains, watching as Topper gestured for you to open the window.

And so you did.

“Fuck do you want, Topper?” You spat as soon as the window was open enough for him to climb through.

You walked away from the window, not wanting to look at his very punchable face.

After he got in he instantly walked towards you with his arms open.

You pushed him away.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay — I lost track of time.” He reached his arms once again.

“Doesn’t fucking matter. You let me walk home, alone.” You sat on your bed, and dragged you hands down your face from exhaustion.

“I didn’t know — I didn’t know, y/n.” He kneeled in front of you, both hands rested on your thighs.

“Whatever. I got a ride from someone else anyway.” You shifted your body sideways to rest yourself on your headboard.

“Who?” His brows furrowed, and his head tilted.

“Nobody.” You rolled your eyes, you grabbed a book from your nightstand, and flipped through it.

You weren’t truly reading the book, just needed something to shift your focus to, to look more careless.

“But..but you just said-.” He stood up from the position he was in, and stepped away from the bed.

You could tell he was silently raging.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter who.” You frowned, shrugging, still flipping through the book.

“Okay. okay, So that’s how our relationships gonna be?” He threw his hands up. “I..I make a mistake, and you get a ride home with some guy?”

“Never said it was a guy.” You said nonchalantly, and shrugged once more.

“But the way you said it, I assume it was.” He was frustrated by the way you so carelessly flipped the pages in the book, and it was obvious you weren’t actually reading it.

“But I never said it was. So maybe don’t assume?”

“Was it a guy, y/n, tell the truth.” He stepped forward, taking the book from your hands, and placing it back where you got it from. “Pay attention to me, not some goddamn book, y/n”

You looked up when he took the book, looking offended as if you were enjoying it.

“It doesn’t matter. I had to do, what I had to do to get home in time to make my curfew.”

He threw his head back, now annoyed at the fact you wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking exhausted from the dodged question. “I won’t get mad, okay?”

You gave a light chuckle. “I don’t care about you getting mad. You have no right to be mad, I’m the one that got ditched tonight, Topper.” You pushed yourself off the bed and went over to your window, that was still open. “I’m not just gonna forgive you. Not this time.” You gestured towards the window for him to leave with a serious expression on your face.

He had a sorry look on his face, but you didn’t fold; you couldn’t fold. He had done this before, and letting him get off scot-free would’ve given him the ‘go’ to continue doing it.

When he noticed you weren’t folding he walked passed you, and left the same way he’d come in, feeling defeated.

You couldn’t lie, arguing with him and lying to him hurt, even if you had spoke to him nonchalantly. That’s just how you were. You’d act like it didn’t hurt your feelings as much as it did, then after he’d leave you’d cry yourself to sleep, but this night was different. Ranting to Rafe had eased your mind tremendously, you never thought he could ever be a good listener, maybe because he looked like he’d only be interested in talking about himself.

But he’d listened to you, and that was something Topper rarely ever did. Rafe listening to you felt good. You felt bad, comparing your boyfriend to his best friend, but you couldn’t help but think about the way Rafe looked at you in the passenger seat, and the way your stomach fluttered when he did.

Were you a shitty person for what you’d been thinking about?

Maybe.

[winter-turtle]

Nothing's Ending Yet (it's just beginning)

Tony never believed in ghosts. Even with how crazy his life has gotten with literal gods and aliens and whatnot, the idea of souls staying behind after death simply seemed too ridiculous. Once you were gone, you were gone. There was nothing to do about it. However, the situation he found himself in made him reconsider. The boy sitting next to him was a far cry from the lively, chatty teenager from a month ago. So, yeah. Tony didn’t believe in ghosts, but it looked like one was right in front of him. ~~~ Following the traumatic injury resulting in Peter losing a bit of himself, Tony is trying his best to deal with a shadow that was left of his chatty intern. He's trying his best, but will it be enough?

Alternate ending to The Morning Will Come (and the dream stealing your sleep will end) - for full understanding, reading the original is recommended.

Word count: 5078

Ao3 link

Tony never believed in ghosts. Even with how crazy his life has gotten with literal gods and aliens and whatnot, the idea of souls staying behind after death simply seemed too ridiculous. Once you were gone, you were gone. There was nothing to do about it.

However, the situation he found himself in made him reconsider.

He looked up from the bubbling pot on the stove to the balcony, where a lone figure surrounded by black spots sat, its back facing Tony. The figure was bundled up in a warm jacket that was hiding heating pads underneath, enjoying some of the last rays of sun before the winter hit with full force.

Okay, enjoying wasn’t the correct word.

Those were the doctor’s orders; make the kid get plenty of sun exposure to help with the recovery.

Sighing, Tony loaded the bowl with a rich-flavored broth. Usually, he would’ve filled the bowl to the brim, risking spillage and burns at the slightest wrong move. Again, the doctor’s orders were preventing him from doing that.

“Smaller portions every few hours, Tony,” Helen had said.

With the kid’s fast metabolism, the malnutrition and the, ah… stress the kid’s body went through, it was quite a feat to figure out a meal plan to combat the condition and reintroduce solid food into his diet.

Tony had no other choice than to obey. It was better than keeping the kid hooked to IVs.

He slid open the glass door and stepped outside. A loud caw alerted other occupants to his presence.

Yeah, the army of crows might’ve left not long after Peter was released from the med-bay, but not all. Eight of them stayed behind, keeping the kid company whenever he was on the balcony. They were clearly comfortable around him, though not around Tony.

In the first days, he got dive-bombed every time he stepped a foot on the balcony, until they realized – well, to some extent – that he was trying to help the kid.

Even now they didn’t trust him by no means but they… tolerated him. To a certain degree.

Upon Tony’s approach, the crow sitting on Peter’s shoulder stopped preening his hair, cawed in a way that could only be interpreted as aggressive before flying off to join the others sitting on the railing. There was no doubt they were watching his every move, ready to swarm him at the first hint of hostility.

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony said gently as he placed the bowl on the small table next to Peter. Aside from the bowl of peanuts for the birds, several coins and shiny things got added there since the last time he checked on the kid. “I got you some soup. And I talked to Helen earlier. She thinks you could stomach some noodles and a bit of a carrot too.”

“Thank you,” Peter replied softly without tearing his tired gaze from the New York skyline.

His voice was hoarse from the lack of use. His hands were in his lap, holding the mug of tea Tony gave him before he went inside to prepare the food. It must’ve gone cold by now.

The boy sitting next to him was a far cry from the lively, chatty teenager from a month ago.

So, yeah. Tony didn’t believe in ghosts, but it looked like one was right in front of him.

He placed one hand on Peter’s shoulder, the other one reaching to take the mug. His fingers closed around it and gently pried it from the kid’s hands, and as he began to straighten his back again, his gaze slid lower from the now-empty hands to Peter’s legs.

Or more like the empty pant leg.

There was nothing below Peter’s right knee.

He couldn’t help but remember those awful, agonizing hours after he’d brought Peter to the med-bay, bloodied and barely breathing.

Despite Helen and her team doing their best, the infection was so bad, and with the blood loss Peter sustained in that attack, there was no way to save it. There were two options; it was either an amputation or death.

The decision was clear.

Even then, it wasn’t guaranteed Peter would make it, but his chances increased significantly. Tony kept vigil at the teen’s bedside, watching for the slightest sign of complication. In the end, it took him about a week to regain some consciousness, and another two days before he was fully conscious.

They’d managed to talk a bit until Tony said something that upset the kid. He didn’t even remember what it was. What he’ll never be able to forget was what came after.

Peter had pushed himself into a sitting position, ready to hop off from the bed before he froze. With a shaking hand, he slowly reached for the blanket covering him. He stared in a silent horror at the empty space where his right calf and foot were supposed to be.

The heart monitor suddenly spiked up, beeping like a bomb about to detonate.

The kid began to hyperventilate, panic flooding his body, making him trash around on the bed, legs kicking and arms flailing. Despite his weakened state, Tony had to put in extra effort to hold Peter in place so he wouldn’t rip out any wires attached to his body or hurt himself by falling on the hard floor.

“Kid, kid, come on. Look at me, Peter. Look at me. Deep breaths,” Tony pleaded, his voice strained, but Peter didn’t listen. In fact, he didn’t seem to hear him at all. He kept trashing around in Tony’s grip, repeating the word no like a broken record, an odd sob and wail slipping past his lips here and there.

Tony started to panic as well. “Damn it. Friday, get Helen!”

The woman ran into the room not too long after, taking only a moment to realize what was happening and jumped to action immediately. Tony was vaguely aware of some cabinets being yanked open until she stood next to the IV pole and injected something into it.

Peter trashing began to cease, his body slumping against Tony’s as if someone had pulled a plug and drained all the fight from him. Tony just sat there, cradling Peter against his chest and murmuring quiet reassurances that everything will be okay as the kid sobbed his heart out.

Would it be okay, though?

Tony knew nothing about how to care about teenagers. Sure, you feed them, you water them, but what then? How long they slept? What things they required for living? He couldn’t base an average teenager on himself, since he’d been attending MIT at Peter’s age. But Peter was no average teenager either.

Were there even books on how to take care of superpowered kids? Tony doubted that.

 Something started soaking into the fabric of this shirt.

“Let’s take a look at him,” Helen had said.

Reluctantly, Tony lowered the boy’s head back on the pillow. He wiped the tears from the sunken cheeks, aware of the unfocused gaze on him before moving away to give Helen space to work.

For some reason, Tony felt like he failed.

***

Briefly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Tony chased away the images burned into his mind. He had to focus now. He could always fall apart later, when the kid wasn’t around.

“Here,” he moved the table in front of Peter and stepped aside so he wouldn’t block the view, “eat up before it gets cold. Or would you prefer to eat inside?”

Peter’s face was unreadable, still gazing ahead with the same unchanging apathy. Then, ever so slowly, he reached for the spoon.

Helen had explained all about how to go around malnutrition and refeeding. How at this stage, it was important to just eat. Sure, each person needed to get a plan tailored to them, but it was usually around a thousand calories a day. Peter’s whole metabolism threw a wrench into that.

Thankfully, their hit-or-miss seemed to avoid the miss part so far.

About five minutes later, the bowl was empty. “Great job, Underoos,” Tony praised as he took the bowl away. “What do you want to do now? Go inside and watch a movie? Tinker with something? Or read some of Bruce’s works that haven’t been published yet?”

Tony always gave Peter several options so he wouldn’t feel pressured into anything. Still, he had a hunch what the kid will pick.

“I’ll stay here.”

And there it was. No luck coaxing the boy into some activity this time around either. Tony pushed the disappointment down.

“Okay then. Do you want me to bring you anything here to entertain yourself?”

“No, thank you.”

And that was basically how all their conversations for the past weeks went; yes, no, and a few simple phrases. Rinse and repeat.

Tony nodded despite it killing him inside. “Fine. I’ll at least bring you some more hot tea. Just to warm your hands if you don’t want to drink it.”

He would prefer if he drank the tea, but it wasn’t like he could force him. That would end in a disaster, and the last thing either of them needed was for Peter to shut down, destroying all the slow and painful progress they’ve made. The kid needed all the energy to get better so they could start the rehabilitation.

Put on the weight, rest and let the stump heal properly. That was the primary focus. Tony debated with himself the pros and cons of telling the kid again to motivate him. On one hand, it could help greatly. On the other hand, knowing how eager Peter was (or used to be) could make him rush the process and cause more damage.

Not to mention the mental state the kid was in. Helen already told him they would get him back on his feet eventually. Tony repeating that could feel like he was pressuring him.

In the end, he chose to keep his mouth shut and let Helen deal with the psychological aspect. God knew Tony wasn’t the best when it came to emotions.

As Tony slid the door shut, he watched the crows resumed their place next to Peter.

***

First, it was his parents. Then his aunt and uncle, and his home along with it. The grief was somewhat bearable when he was out as Spider-Man, either helping lost people or stopping crimes. But then he lost his leg.

And Spider-Man along with it.

The tablet in his hands radiated a white glow, contrasting the dimness of his room. Peter looked down at it, roaming around the various headlines on the local Queens news website. One in particular caught his attention.

“Queens’ vigilante Spider-Man: Where is he?”

It’s been a little over three weeks since the incident and yet new headlines would still appear, wondering about his whereabouts. Some speculated that he was just recovering. Some speculated that he was dead.

He might as well be, no?

It was always the same for Peter. When his parents had died, all adults in his life – except Ben and May – paid him extra attention for about three weeks. After that, their attitude turned from sympathy and understanding to a mix of impatience and pity. You had your share, now back to normal. Get out of my sight.

He spotted the first signs of it already happening. Following the incident, every fifth headline was about him. The same footage of him being smacked into the ground and then swinging from the site has been replayed everywhere, over and over again. Everyone had seen it by the time the second week rolled around. With no new information regarding Spider-Man’s insane battle, the articles no longer attracted clicks. It was time to move onto the next big sensation, pushing Spidey further back.

This headline was the only one appearing in the past two days. It was only a matter of time until there will be none.

Sure, there might be a few odd people remembering him from time to time, but in the grand scheme of things, it wouldn’t matter.

Spider-Man will be forgotten by the world the same way Peter Parker has been.

Except by Mr. Stark.

The man practically refused to leave Peter’s side. He was always in the vicinity. He fed him, clothed him, provided entertainment, even allowed the crows to stay living on the balcony.

There were times when Peter wanted to scream why?! Why bother? Why waste time on something you couldn’t fix?

Hell, he couldn’t even shower on his own!

Before the anger could rise any higher, the apathy overtook him once again, swallowing it.

***

Another week passed before Dr. Cho deemed him better and suggested that he’ll start some light physical therapy.

“Nothing extreme. Just some light exercise to start building up your strength again.”

Disuse of muscles lead to atrophy, Peter remembered that from a biology class. After about three-to-five weeks of bed rest, almost half of the muscle strength was lost. Peter’s been bedridden for a month. Throw in his pitiful state before he lost his leg…

He hated it.

He hated how exhausted the exercises left him. He hated how there was nothing to exercise below his right knee.

And most importantly, he hated he was being treated like some fragile glass figure that was about to break any second.

Still, he did as he was told.

Because the least he could do was not being even bigger burden.

The pressure behind his eyes hurt. Still, no tears came.

***

Tony… wasn’t exactly thrilled about the situation. No, scratch that, he wasn’t thrilled at all.

He scowled at his reflection in the mirror as he was tying his tie to look presentable for some stupid meeting with some “important” people. Were they really that important if he couldn’t remember who they were supposed to be?

The meeting in question required both him and Pepper to attend. It’s been postponed several times (for obvious reasons), the true reason behind Tony’s absence known only to the select few. Which was Tony and Pepper.

The “important” people seemed to think he wasn’t showing up just to mess with them and threatened to call off the deal.

And so here he was, loathing that he was about to spend about two hours in some boring meeting, leaving the kid alone. Crows didn’t count. Helen was out, Happy as well, and Rhodey had yet to meet the kid.

Though, Peter would probably hate meeting another superhero in his current state, Tony thought. Meeting new people could worsen his state. Maybe later. Rhodey could offer some insight about a life-changing injury way better than Tony ever could.

Trauma was trauma, but the kid would probably relate better and take advice from someone whose injury affected their ability to walk rather than from someone who got hit with shrapnel.

Still, there was no way Tony would leave the kid here alone, no. He’s got a suit on a stand-by, ready to be deployed by ever-watching Friday should any emergency arise. He went over the coding several times last night to make sure it was ready for anything ranging from another alien invasion to the kid falling out of his wheelchair.

It eased some of Tony’s frayed nerves.

“Pete?” Tony popped his head out of the balcony door, “I’ll be going now. If you need anything, just ask Friday and she’ll deal with it, okay?” He waited for the lethargic nod before making his way to the elevator.

The first thing he was once the sleek silver door opened was Pepper, looking great as ever. She held several thick binders. Just the sight of them made Tony want to turn around and run. “Hey, Pep.”

“Here,” she stepped closer, scooped several binders and held them out to him, “these are for you.” Tony was about to open his mouth and question how she was able to hold that weight easily in one hand when Pepper added in a whisper, “how’s Peter?”

“He’s doing better physically,” he replied in an equally quiet tone as they started to make their way towards the conference room. To occupy himself, he fiddles with the binders, aligning the edges. “Little by little, he puts on some weight. But otherwise…”

“Still no good?”

“Not at all.”

A pained expression flashed across her face before she schooled it into the professional mask. “Okay. Let’s get this meeting over with. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.” She looked him in the eyes. “You have to focus. For Peter,” she added, effectively shutting down any protests forming on the tip of his tongue.

Tony nodded. “For Peter.”

***

Half an hour into the meeting, the sky began to fill with thick grey clouds. An hour later, a raindrop splattering against the window caught his attention.

Was it supposed to rain today? No, that didn’t seem right, he checked the weather forecast. Or did he?

“What do you think, Mr. Stark?” one of the “important” people asked him.

For Peter, he repeated in his head like a mantra. “Sounds good to me.”

***

By the time the meeting ended, it was pouring outside. Tony exchanged last pleasantries, shook hands, and scurried away before anyone could say anything else. He felt bad for ditching Pepper like that, but she understood. He’ll make it up to her once things were better.  

Sighing and closing his eyes, he let the back of his head hit the elevator wall, allowing himself a moment to regain his composure.

The door opened. “Kid? I’m back,” he called out into the penthouse. As expected, there was no answer.

Tony stood at the mouth of the elevator, hands on his hips as he looked around. The living room was empty, as well as the kitchen. A quick run down the hallway to the kid’s room proved to be fruitless too.

Strange. No sign of the kid, but no sign of anyone leaving or entering either. No alert on Tony’s watch. And no suit standing around.

An unpleasant feeling clenched at Tony’s heart. “Friday?”

As if reading his mind, Friday’s disembodied voice spoke up at the same time. “Boss, I believe Peter requires immediate assistance.”

“Yeah, but where is he?”

“On the balcony.”

Balcony? Was Friday malfunctioning? It was raining cats and dogs, no way the kid was outside! Unconvinced but driven by some strange instinct, Tony rushed across the living room.

The water cascaded down the glass panels, blurring everything outside. Despite that, a vague shape with several black dots on it was present at the same place Tony left the kid at before he left.

“Peter!”

Tony threw the door open and ran onto the balcony, gasping as the icy rain immediately soaked him. He pushed past the shock.

The crows cawed like crazy when Tony threw himself on his knees in front of the kid, the noise sounding accusing to his ears. One of the smaller ones – Trisha if he remembered correctly – smacked Tony’s head with her wing as she circled around before going to hide with the rest of her family under the roof. They sat there huddled close to each other, observing Tony’s every move.

How can an animal’s gaze feel so judgy?

Turning his attention back to the crisis at hand, Tony went and cupped Peter’s cheeks. His skin was pale and cold, sucking away the warmth from Tony’s hands.

He was limp like a ragdoll.

“Pete? Kid? Can you hear me?”

The boy showed no sign of doing so. His eyes were almost closed, and even with his head lifted to be on the same eye level as Tony, Peter was seeing right through him.

Tony shifted his right hand around, frantically feeling for a pulse. “Please no. No, no, no, no, no,” he pleaded, the snake of fear coiling around his heart, squeezing. “Come on, Peter, please, don’t do this to me—"

There!

The pulse was weakly pressing against his fingers in regular intervals, but it was there.

Wasting no more time, Tony grabbed the handles and ran.

Once inside, he unzipped the jacket, grateful that it kept most of the water out, and the heating pads under it to combat the coldness. Though, with Peter’s spidery powers and lack of proper thermoregulation, combined with his wet hair and legs, it didn’t mean much. As quickly and carefully as he could, Tony maneuvered Peter’s arms from the jacket, throwing it aside. It landed on a floor with a wet splat. That could be dealt with later.

Peter hasn’t moved an inch during the whole ordeal. And when Tony said not an inch, he meant the kid actually didn’t move at all. Tony spent in the rain about fifteen seconds and he was already shivering like some purse chihuahua from Beverly Hills. Peter wasn’t shivering at all.

“Friday, what the hell?” Tony shot at the ceiling.

“Weather conditions weren’t in your protocol,” the AI replied, sounding a tad regretful. “You instructed me to step in case of emergency.  Despite that, I did a wellness check on Peter, asking him whether he required assistance. He refused. His core temperature dropped to a dangerous level when you arrived.”

Tony muttered a low curse as he began to wheel Peter away. How could he be so stupid to forget about the weather? This was on him. He couldn’t blame it on Friday, she couldn’t go against the programming specifically made by Tony.

“Whatever. Call—” He faltered. Helen wasn’t an option. Bringing in some random doctor was out of questions. Shit. “Forget it. Have some nurse from the SI infirmary prepare a warm saltwater solution; just in case it will be needed.”

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be.

By the time Tony barged into his spacious bathroom, the heat difference was noticeable. He dived under the sink for the first aid kit, wasting no time pulling out scissors.

He snatched the nearest towel and put it over Peter’s hair to absorb some water, then went to cut his shirt. Then his sweatpants.

When Peter was only in his underwear, which thankfully remained dry, Tony scooped him up and moved him onto a stool so his back would be supported by both the sink cabinet and the wall. He went over the process in his mind.

Get away from the cold. Be gentle. Dry the person up. Warm the person up.

Warm, warm, warm.

He needed blankets.

A string of all-too-familiar chirps made him turn around. Dum-E stood at the entrance, a bunch of towels and sheets thrown over his arm.

Tony reached for the bundle, feeling its warmth. “Did you take this from the dryer?” The bot let out a few more affirmative beeps, waving the arm up and down. Tony smiled. “Thanks, buddy,” he patted the bot on the head.

It was definitely Friday who made him fetch these. He’d have to go fetch more blankets and heating pads once he was done here, but for now, these would do.

Tony set the bundle on the counter, picking two largest sheets to swaddle Peter in. One was thrown over his upper body, the other one wrapped over his legs. Then he swapped the wet towel on the boy’s hair for the dry one. “Geez, kid,” he sighed, rubbing his scalp with a feather-light touch, “at this rate the crows will really prove they can take better care of you than I can.”

***

The cold was numbing. Good. If he can’t feel his body, then nothing can hurt anymore, right?

Though, he was vaguely aware of something. Were his arms being moved? Was he being moved around? He couldn’t tell. Besides, it was ridiculous. He couldn’t move around on his own anymore. It was just his mind playing tricks on him, making him imagine the warmth.

Paradoxical undressing. Yeah, that happened when you get so cold you start to feel hot and—

“You’ll be okay, kid.”

Hold on.

“We’ll get you all nice and warm again.”

Peter wasn’t imagining this.

No… no. The feeling was returning into his body. He didn’t want that.

Make it stop. Make it stop.

MAKE IT STOP, MAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOP—

***

The hit came unexpected, like a lightning from a clear sky. Tony stumbled back. It didn’t actually hurt; knowing how strong the kid was, he could’ve made Tony’s ribcage cave in with no problem. Still, considering Peter’s condition, the sudden movement was surprising.

“Peter?” Tony asked carefully as he returned to his previous position in front of the stool.

The second hit was a tad stronger. Then the third one came, then fourth, then fifth… yet Tony remained kneeling because what the hell was going on?!

The hits were uncoordinated, somewhere between punches and slaps. None landed properly – every single one of them slid down Tony’s torso, occasionally catching on the buttons on his suit. Tony’s hands hovered over the kid’s shoulders, unsure of how to proceed. He was out of his waters.

But then again – wasn’t he always out of his waters when it came to this whole taking care of a teenager?

A drop of red landed on the white sheet, pulling Tony out of his stupor and springing him into action of finding the source.

Another of the kid’s sloppy slap-hit caught on his buttons, causing Tony to look down. A smear of red near the middle one caught his attention.

Peter was shaking now. That was a good sign. His lips were moving; so quiet Tony couldn’t hear a thing. But whatever it was, the kid was repeating it over and over like a mantra.  

A third flash of red drew Tony’s attention to the kid’s hand. A thin trail of blood was flowing down his knuckles from where the tender, frozen skin broke on Tony’s button.

“—it sto—”

The words were quiet like a breeze, it would’ve been so easy to miss them. Gradually, they built up in volume, until Tony could make them out clear enough.

“—make ‘t ‘top, make it stop, make it stop—"

Tony caught the kid’s wrist before he could land another hit, holding it strongly but gently enough so Peter couldn’t hurt himself further. The boy wiggled his other hand from the sheet cocoon, making Tony to repeat the process. A sob ripped from Peter’s throat. He began to shake his head, still not looking up.

“Come on, Pete,” Tony coaxed softly, rubbing his thumb against still-cold skin. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Can you look at me? Please?”

Peter obeyed and Tony froze.

The look in those brown eyes was something that will probably follow him to the grave. That pure, raw sadness and desperation didn’t belong on anyone’s face, let alone the kid who lost everything, everyone, and a piece of himself.

“You should’ve- you should’ve left me there,” Peter let out a choked sob. “It would’ve all stopped. You shouldn’t have come. You should’ve left me there,” he repeated.

“But, kid,” Tony said, “you would’ve died if I did that.”

“It would’ve been for the best!”

For a moment, Tony swore he forgot how to breathe.

“I don’t know what you ever saw in me. What you see in me now. I’m a walking curse. Everyone close to me always dies! It would’ve been only fair if I finally—"

“Don’t say that!”

Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth, his own eyes burning with unshed tears. He didn’t mean to raise his voice.

Before either of them could blink, Tony released Peter’s wrists in favor of pulling him into an embrace. He buried his face into Peter’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. The tears fell. “Don’t you ever dare finish that sentence.”

Was this on the kid’s mind all this time? “Kid, listen to me,” Tony said once the barbed wire around his throat loosened, “none of it – and I mean absolutely none of it – was your fault. There was no way for you to prevent any action of those who chose to do wrong. You can’t control others’ actions. Only your own.”

The world was a cruel and unjust place. Most of one’s success was either tied to money or luck. Tony was born into money, which pretty much opened all doors of possibilities and set him on a path of success. Some people, were just dealt bad cards at birth, seemingly sentencing them to a life of suffering. Like Peter, for example.

Luck or not, Tony will do everything in his power to ensure the kid, his kid, won’t have to go through any cruel play of fate anymore. He’ll fistfight the destiny itself if necessary.

Impossible? There were many things that were supposed to be impossible.

It was supposed to be impossible to for him to survive the shrapnel to his heart. Yet he did.

It was supposed to be impossible for him to escape from the cave with a box of scraps. Yet he did.

It was supposed to be impossible to shut down the weapons department and rework the whole business so it would focus on green energy instead without destroying the company. Yet he did.

He could go on, listing what else was supposed to be impossible. That word simply wasn’t in his dictionary.

Peter kept shaking against his chest; whether it was from the cold or all of those repressed emotions, Tony didn’t know. However, it was a big step up from the lifeless shadow he used to be.

Peter let out a heart-breaking wail, then buried his own face into Tony’s shoulder.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the first step on the kid’s path to a recovery. Sure, it might be rough and long, but no matter how many times will Peter stumble, no matter how long it might take, Tony will faithfully remain at his side, supporting him all the way through.

And he won’t be alone. Pepper, Happy and Rhodey will be there too.

“We’ll get you the coolest prosthetic the world has ever seen. You’ll be able to kick the butts of the bad guys into next Sunday. It’ll have all the functions we can think of – a place to store extra cartridges, first aid supplies, snacks. A cupholder? I offered it to Rhodey too but for some reason he refused.”

Peter chuckled. A god-honest chuckle, first time since he woke up after the life-changing surgery. “That sounds so stupid.”

Tony smiled, a few more tears sliding down his cheeks. This time though, they were happy.

Nothing was ending yet.

It was just beginning.

[camelliacats]

room to grieve

Prewett fam hcs, done for Family Bootcamp Challenge (prompt: hard) in the HPFC on FFN.

Fic: "room to grieve" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Molly-centric Molly Weasley/Arthur Weasley, the Weasley children, & a cameo from Pandora Lovegood/Xenophilius Lovegood, with mentions of others

Rating: K

Words: ~6,600

Additional info: romance, family, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, Maydayverse, sequential, Harry's era, 3rd person POV

Summary: After news of her brothers' deaths, Molly makes an abrupt change.

      "Molly, I…"

      Mad-Eye's weak apology faded from her mind, fresh and yet just as distant as his words had faded from his tongue when he'd arrived on their doorstep last week. If she closed her eyes, she could swear that she were still standing with the front door cracked open, her welcoming smile frozen on her face, Arthur behind her with a warm, steadying hand on her back…

      "…um. Mum?"

      Molly blinked back tears and swallowed a lump caught in her throat. Oh. There really was a warm hand on her back. She mustered a smile for her second oldest. "Sorry, Charlie. Did you need something, dear?"

      He furrowed his brow and peered at her, more closely than she would've liked. "Just—it's lunchtime. D'you have something ready? Or I can make something, for the rest of us," he added quickly.

      She glanced over his head (still easy for now, but already her eight-year-old was at her shoulder and catching up with his brother). Four more pairs of eyes watched their interaction from the other side of the kitchen counter. It might've been five, she mused, if Ginny were a tot and not almost two months old. But Molly shook her head and wiped her dishwater-stained hands on her apron, grabbing her wand and waving over the sink, hoping magic would pick up her slack. "No, no, we've all got to eat. Let's see," she said, turning around to rummage through the fridge…and finding it surprisingly emptier than usual. "Ah, we're a bit short on eggs."

      "I can go 'round back and collect them. I'm more than old enough."

      "No, no, the chickens have been out of sorts lately… We'll just have some sandwiches," Molly decided, turning around to the counter instead. But she lifted the door to the bread box and found nothing but heels.

      Ah. Right. She…normally would've set a fresh loaf to bake yesterday morning, wouldn't she?

      "Then soup—"

      Before she could open the fridge a second time, Charlie gently slid into her path. His freckled smile was soft and kind, and he gave her a one-armed hug. "Mum, have a sit, yeah? You seem a bit peaky. I'll make you tea. Right quick, promise."

      A second lump formed in her throat, but she leaned into his hug and kissed the top of Charlie's head (anything not to look at that soft expression—no, it was too familiar right now). Molly nodded and wandered into the living room afterwards, staring blankly across the room at Ginny's rocker. It didn't register until Percy turned around from the counter between bites of his sandwich to gently nudge the rocker that Ginny was, in fact, present inside and sound asleep under her brother's watchful eye.

      The scene was enough to make the lump wedged in Molly's throat burst, and her vision turned misty, blurry. But she disappeared upstairs so her children wouldn't witness her second meltdown in as many weeks.

      For the second time that day, she felt a warm hand on her back. It was enough to rouse Molly from her crying-induced nap, exhausted though she was, but sitting up took effort.

      "Ah, there we are." At least it really was Arthur this time, sitting beside her, on their bed—wait, Arthur?

      Molly paused mid-unfurl and glanced at the small clock on her nightstand. "Oh, no. Arthur, what are you doing home so early?"

      He brushed her curls back from her face and cupped her cheek in his hand. His thumb traced over dried tear tracks as though they marred her, glaringly obvious in how she'd spent her afternoon. Arthur's smile was small. "The boys worried about disrupting me at work and since Bill was spending the day at Ignatius and Lucretia's with, ah, with the new…owl…," Arthur explained, his eyes falling briefly to the mattress. He cleared his throat. "The children Floo'd your parents, who Floo'd me."

      Molly furrowed her brow. "But—they don't know how to use the Floo powder."

      "Apparently they do." Arthur shrugged. "I suppose when we taught Bill last summer, in case of emergencies, it vaguely stuck with Charlie. But Percy's been reading about it on his own. Very bossy and exacting when it comes to magic, that one," he added with a light chuckle. Then Arthur sighed and locked eyes with Molly. "Your parents described the boys as extremely concerned, Mollywobbles. You didn't eat? You're too quiet today… And you came to our room to cry again."

      She bristled and pushed Arthur's hand away. Molly stood and smoothed the front of her dress, as well as her skirt and apron, which she'd forgotten to leave behind in the kitchen earlier today. "The children don't need to see me like this."

      "They've seen plenty, Molly. They're mourning, too, in their own way."

      At that, she gritted her teeth and placed her hands on her hips. She faced their closet, looking for something to do while she stewed. "…it's different, Arthur."

      He was quiet for one, two, three beats. "I know." Another pause. "For you, and for Edwin and Milly, I know."

      She frowned at the mention of her parents, but at least Arthur seemed to understand her point. Molly exhaled, a large breath, and decided a stack of Arthur's favorite jumpers needed tidying right then, so she squatted beside them and got to it. "This is hardly something to come home early for, Arthur."

      The mattress creaked under his weight; he must've shifted (she had to guess without looking). But she heard the weariness in his voice when he said, "You most certainly come before work, Molly. Especially right now, when your days are on repeat."

      Molly paused folding a cardigan (ah, the golden one with bronze and mahogany threads—her first anniversary gift to him), long enough to digest his words. But then she resumed her task, and Arthur exited the room to leave her be.

      "I just needed a different task and to have everyone home," Molly insisted later that evening when she and Arthur prepared for bed after seeing the boys to their rooms. Ginny's crib magically, silently swayed in a corner of her parents' room while the couple moved about.

      Arthur glanced askance at his wife and finished buttoning his pajama top. "That so…?"

      "Yes! That's what I need, Arthur. To know where my family is, at all times."

      "That seems a bit much, Mollywobbles."

      She freed her hair of her nightgown's collar in time to offer him a particularly hard stare. "Nothing is 'a bit much' in these times, Arthur. Look at the close calls the Longbottoms have had. The Potters are in hiding! As for the rest of the Order—" Molly stopped short of listing disappearances and other deaths. Instead, she closed her eyes and summoned to mind Fabian's and Gideon's faces…only to have them overridden by the memory of Mad-Eye's apology yet again.

      Something softly thunked outside their bedroom door, interrupting their conversation and Molly's morose train of thought. Closest to the door, Arthur got up and checked. He chuckled as he bent to receive the surprise. "Well, perhaps you're right about having everyone home—Bill's doing, I reckon," he said as he passed Molly a steaming mug.

      She accepted it, and the new warmth in her hands helped calm her, as did the chamomile scent. "Mm, perhaps, once he heard about today. Or Charlie, since I didn't let him make me a cup earlier."

      "They're good boys, looking out for their mother."

      "But that's not their job, Arthur. It's a parent's job, to look out for her children."

      "It's all right for things to be a little backwards when the world's a bit upside–down, luv." He let his words sink in with a long look at his wife, and Arthur raised his eyebrows. But then he offered her another small smile and rubbed her upper arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to turn the covers down.

      Molly, meanwhile, remained standing. Arthur's words did a better job penetrating compared to this afternoon, now that she was calmer…and, she supposed with a desire to chuckle herself, tea helped, too. But tea worked best while hot, so she brought the mug to her lips and tilted it back—

      —and nearly dropped it.

      She tightened her grip on the mug before Arthur took notice and scooted close to the lamp on her nightstand. There, with her back to her husband, she peered at the mug's pale contents…and couldn't quite believe what she saw.

      Someone pale, ghost white stared back. Her curls lacked their normal bounce, but their red color only made the reflection's sickly pallor stick out more. And worst of all were the eyes…her eyes, raw to the point where she almost lost sight of her Prewett brown eyes. The bags underneath were a tired, angry purple, like bruises.

      The sight terrified Molly. To think Arthur and the children had seen nothing but this for the past week…!

      …and yet…

      A new lump formed in her throat as she thought about her interaction with Charlie today, about avoiding his eyes.

      Because it was one thing to be terrified by her own sordid reflection right now. But it was a far scarier thing to her these days, looking at Charlie or Bill and seeing Gideon and Fabian in them.

      Molly forced herself to sip the chamomile tea. It was just on the cooler side of hot, enough to force the lump in her throat to dissolve into a calming heat that nestled in her chest. Several sips later, Molly could set the mug down on her nightstand and get into bed, leaving Arthur to flick off the lights.

      But, an hour later, the chamomile hadn't taken full effect. Molly's calm remained, but sleep was far off. She shimmied into an upright position and glanced around the room.

      Arthur snored softly beside her, his back a warm comfort barely an inch away. Ginny's crib kept going even now, but Molly's baby girl must've shifted, for Molly heard the lightest rustle from inside, followed by a sleep-babbling coo. No shadows moved outside their door, meaning the boys remained asleep in their rooms, as well.

      Molly glanced at the duvet and then to the empty mug. After catching sight of herself tonight, suddenly she felt as though three ghosts haunted her…

      And she wondered why into the wee hours of the morning.

      When Arthur woke the next morning, he saw Molly with Ginny in her arms and in higher spirits. "G'morning, you two. Sleep well, Mollywobbles?"

      "A little," Molly answered, swaying absentmindedly to an old Celestina song she couldn't recall the whole of at the moment. She made a funny face for Ginny, who stared up at her with wide, rapt eyes. Molly laughed but kept her volume low, since the boys weren't likely to be up yet on the weekend. "My mind kept me awake longer than I hoped."

      At that, Arthur frowned. He donned his slippers and shuffled over to her, interrupting Molly's odd half dance with his hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Molly… You really meant it when you said you only slept a little, didn't you?" he asked after peering at her.

      But Molly shook her head. "It's not all bad, Arthur, honest. In fact, I think I figured out how I want best to handle my brothers'—absence." She winced. She knew they were dead, but forcing the word "passing" out of her mouth was too daunting a task.

      "I'm all ears, luv."

      Molly's eyes flicked to his. She held his gaze for two heartbeats and held Ginny close. She pricked up her ears for signs of their little eavesdroppers…but, no, the house remained quiet. So she returned Ginny to the crib and wrung her hands in the fabric of her nightgown. Concentrating on the mix of freckles and plaid made it so much easier to deliver her words: "Arthur…would you hate it…if I went by my maiden name instead?"

      The stillness of the house settled in their room now, too. When Molly lifted her head, she saw Arthur had gone terribly still—but he couldn't help his fallen expression.

      Molly frowned. Of course it'd be too much to ask. It sounded terrible, too, didn't it? Asking now, after all their years together already.

      Almost as if in answer, Arthur reached for her hands with his left, and his ring glinted in the morning sun fighting its way into the room through the curtains. "Molly—"

      She shook her head. "No, no. Sorry I asked. That was wr—"

      "Molly." Arthur caught her hands and held them, brought them close to his heart, secure and safe and sound. He nodded and rested his forehead against hers. "You do what you need to do, Molly. If this is right for you, if it brings you peace, then how could I possibly hate it?"

      This time, when her eyes filled with tears, she didn't feel so heavy the way she had the last several days. Instead, something light filled her, hearing Arthur's words, and she broke into a small smile amidst her tears. She tilted her head up and kissed his nose and then his lips. "Arthur…! Oh, Arthur. Thank you. Thank you so much."

      He shook his head. "Nothing to thank me for, Molly."

      "You know I love being your 'Mrs. Weasley.'"

      "That I do."

      Her eyes widened. "The children. It'll be confusing for them."

      Arthur drew her into an embrace. "Children have their own way of understanding things. Bill and Charlie are getting older; they'll be off to Hogwarts before you know it. And Percy's far sharper than my knife in my old Potions kit."

      The mention of the class brought to mind a few old memories…but Molly sighed in his arms as more recent ones caught up with her.

      "Something else, Mollywobbles?"

      Molly leaned against his chest. "No, just thinking that I've been stuck on repeat—but I think this is a chance to move forward." She truly believed so.

      Whether Arthur concurred, he kept his musings to himself and simply offered her another hug.

      She'd been "Molly Weasley" for more than ten years now, so a simple declaration wasn't the same as flicking her wand and waving her present with Arthur away, nor did she want that.

      But Molly dressed that day and ran the house with a little more help than usual from Arthur, feeling Bill's and Charlie's eyes follow her throughout breakfast. It helped, though, when Arthur encouraged the boys to get outside while the weather still had a hint of warmth as autumn dragged on.

      Yes. Good. That left Molly to watch over a sleeping Ginny in the living room and sit down and sort through the post, which had piled up considerably over the past week. The Prophets had been tidied and managed, she noted, and Molly resisted the urge to search the latest issue's obituaries for familiar names.

      Instead, she pulled into her lap assorted letters and bills…oh, dear. There were heaps of letters, sometimes two or more from the same addresses, sometimes a letter from a name she'd long forgotten since her and Arthur's school days…

      Even before opening the letters, Molly knew: Word had gotten around about Fabian's and Gideon's deaths.

      Molly reached for Ginny, adjusting the baby's blanket around her. Ginny's tiny fist curled around her mother's pinky finger, and she held on tight with all her baby might. The motion distracted Molly with a smile. So she borrowed that strength and flicked her wand, opening the first letter.

      Professor McGonagall's was the first. Molly read it, twice, without committing the words to memory. But it struck her, the oddness of the situation, that such a prim, proper, respectable professor…would pour her heart out, her sympathies on the page to a former student in this time of unimaginable loss.

      The Longbottoms' was next. It was from Frank and Alice both, but Molly recognized Alice's penmanship. Alice offered support and an ear, which Molly thought kind, if only the war didn't make that impossible.

      Lily wrote on the Potters' behalf, twice: expressing heartbreak for Molly's loss and her fellow classmates and friends, and again checking in with Molly since she'd heard Mad-Eye had bungled delivering the news. James risked penning a quick missive himself, even, bringing the Potters' total to three, saying he'd miss Fabian's and Gideon's echoed laughs.

      Professor Flitwick reached out with the offer of his ear and some tea, as did Professor Sprout, and yet more Hogwarts staff offered condolences. Emmeline Vance, sweet woman, spoke of the twins' character as fellow Aurors and as decent men, and other few remaining of the Order said much the same.

      The two letters that surprised Molly the most, though, came from very different people. The first was from Augusta Longbottom, Frank's mother. She mentioned that she'd written Molly's parents already and planned to see her former classmates soon, but she extended an invitation of company to Molly, as well, as she was "uniquely aware" of the dangers her son and daughter-in-law put themselves in and understood Molly might want an empathetic ear and shoulder.

      The second came from Professor Dumbledore. His elegant script filled a page full of admiration for Fabian and Gideon, two likeable and talented wizards with "so much ahead of them." Dumbledore wrote that it never was and never has been in his plans for the Order or anyone to meet such fates, and that he was so sorry to her and to the Prewett family, "beyond words that I currently possess."

      Dumbledore's letter gave Molly pause. Her head genuinely believed his words—he said, in various ways, that he was sorry countless times throughout his letter—but her heart…his letter didn't sit well with her heart. That gave rise to an odd sensation of sourness in her stomach, that perhaps this could be the one time she didn't trust in the old headmaster's words. Molly winced and set his letter aside.

      As for the rest… Molly Summoned a dinner tray, a quill, and a bottle of ink, as well as parchment. She arranged things on the tray and picked up McGonagall's letter and chose to answer that one first.

      Mostly bland "thank yous" came to mind, and Molly reread McGonagall's letter to tailor her response better. But, after a few lines, she was satisfied that that warranted an owl. And then she signed it:

—Ms. M. Prewett

      Her quill hovered over the bar in the second t. Then she blinked before a bead of ink could drop onto the parchment, and Molly admired the signature anew.

      How odd. How absurd! How…quaint. She'd grown up "Molly Prewett," so signing her name as such again shouldn't feel so alien…and, in a way, it didn't.

      Molly grabbed a scrap of parchment and scribbled out her name a dozen more times.

Molly Prewett Molly Prewett Molly Prewett M. Prewett M. Prewett M. Prewett

      She stared at her old name with fresh eyes. Yes…yes! This—this was it. She was Molly Prewett. She was Edwin and Milly Prewett's daughter. She was Fabian and Gideon Prewett's big sister.

      She was Molly Prewett, and she would be all right and carry on.

      Reclaiming her maiden name had given her a surge, a burst of…not quite confidence, per se, but Molly felt more positive that day, that weekend, than she had in a long while. Perhaps, she mused, more than she had since her brothers had joined the Order of the Phoenix…

      She didn't answer every last sympathy letter that day, but Arthur did come fetch her when it was lunchtime.

      He laughed at the spread of parchment all around her. "Why am I having flashbacks to cramming for exams?"

      Molly scrunched her nose up at him. "Oh, hush up, Arthur. I've made good headway getting through the post."

      "I can see that." Arthur reached for her scrap paper nearest him. But, reading her lines of "Molly Prewett" and "M. Prewett" didn't cause another crestfallen expression on his face. Actually, two spots of red blossomed on his cheeks. "Now I'm really having flashbacks to our school days and of me doodling your name in my notes…"

      She laughed. "You turned bright scarlet when I asked to borrow your Transfiguration notes! I soon learned why, of course."

      "Well, excuse you, but nursing a crush on a very pretty, very bright witch takes patience, like brewing a difficult potion…"

      "We were average in Potions, Arthur."

      "I was average; you were great. But I digress." He set her parchment down and glimpsed at the post. "Anything ready to send? I imagine, ah, Errol wouldn't mind a flight. Getting a bit of training from Ignatius is different from stretching its wings for real, and Bill seems quite fond of the bird."

      Molly sighed. She passed him two letters—a reply each to McGonagall and to Alice and Frank—but hesitated to release her hold when Arthur took them. "Are we even certain Errol's meant for post?"

      Arthur gave her a dubious look. "Molly, he's an owl. And he came to us via Fabian's estate. I can't imagine Fabian would keep an owl not meant for post. Unless—well, I don't recall Fabian being like Hagrid, having a general fondness for all animals?"

      "No… Fabian liked them all right, but Gideon was the one—" She stopped short with a tight smile. As if on cue, a meow from elsewhere in the house echoed.

      Now Arthur sighed. "Right on time, that one. I'll make certain Basil's fed, but your presence is demanded at the lunch table, Ms. Prewett." He pulled her letters free and planted a kiss atop her head. "And I'll send Errol on his way," Arthur promised, his voice quieter, gentler.

      Molly watched him go, her unease over the new family owl dissipating after her exchange with her husband. Besides, even if she wanted to sulk longer, Ginny stirred then, and Molly couldn't feed an infant while covered in ink.

      It helped. Truly, she believed, it helped, signing things "Ms. Prewett" where she could, and Arthur every now and then using "Ms. Prewett" as though he were calling on her like back in their courting days.

      The few times the boys overheard, it left the children rather befuddled. "I'm just trying on an old name," Molly explained as she doled out dinner one evening.

      Bill narrowed his eyes while he dwelled on the notion, but eventually he nodded. Charlie nodded with reluctance and Percy pursed his lips, but Fred, George, and Ron gaped at her with open confusion. Then Ron broke the tension with a happy laugh, convinced they were playing a game of make-believe.

      In some ways, Molly wondered if she got off lightly. Arthur was right. Their children were taking this in stride; they had their own ways of understanding difficult things. As for adults…

      Molly sent out replies to the rest of the letters, slowly, and noticed she didn't hear back. She liked to think it was others being busy (in general, with the school year, with Order business), but a part of her wondered if others thought her odd to revert to her maiden name so suddenly.

      Being left to wonder was slightly better, though, Molly decided, than going out on the rare shopping trip in Muggle stores further inland and being greeted with a polite "Hullo, Mrs. Weasley!" She flinched with every smile and wave and wrong name, until she couldn't take it anymore and wrapped up her shopping on the early side.

      But returning home with lighter bags reminded Molly of the emptier-than-normal fridge from last week. "Bill, watch your siblings, please," she instructed her eldest before grabbing a basket and popping around back to the coop. She filled the basket with half a dozen fresh, large eggs and then—with another, different POP—Disapparated across the way to the Lovegoods' home.

      Molly knocked on their front door and strained her ears to identify which set of footsteps would greet her on the other side.

      She lucked out: Level-headed Pandora opened the door with a look of surprise (or so Molly guessed—her pale eyes had this sort of permanently surprised air to them). "Molly! Hello, good to see you."

      "Hello, Pandora." Molly held up her basket. "Eggs?"

      Pandora smiled. "Thank you, dear. Your chickens really do lay the best." She gestured to the bushes beside the door with a small wave of her hand. "Please, fill your pockets with as many as you can. I and Xeno don't mind, honest."

      "No, no, just enough for a pie," Molly insisted, but she let her fingers comb through the bright orange Dirigible Plums their friends grew. "How's Luna, by the way?"

      "Still tiny. Eats like a creature with a bottomless stomach, but she's a slip of a thing at only…goodness, it's nearly eight months now, isn't it?" Pandora leaned against the door jamb. "Time flies and she's not even a year old."

      Molly smiled, a chuckle in the back of her throat. "Wait until you've got seven with the first one nearly at Hogwarts' doors."

      Pandora "hmm'd" at that and let a pleasant quiet settle between them. Once Molly wound down her selections and began plucking, however, Pandora piped up, "…Xeno may write his own paper, but I read the others, Molly. I'm—I'm so sorry."

      Molly's hand stilled on a particularly large plum, one perhaps a wee bit too ripe. "I've heard that a lot these days," she admitted in a monotone.

      "I can imagine. If there's anything you need—"

      Her words were interrupted by her husband's heavy footfall on their staircase, however. Xenophilius came stomping downstairs, paused at the landing to search for Pandora, and lit up with curiosity when he saw her standing at the open door. "Pandora, you've got to hear this: Luna started to wake from her nap, but she went right back to sleep when I began to detail the Rotfang Conspiracy to her…!" He paused and poked his head over her shoulder. When he saw their guest, he gave Molly one of his sleepy, too-wide grins. "Ah! If it isn't Mrs. Molly Weasley!"

      She couldn't help it. Hearing the wrong name yet again, Molly clenched her hand into a fist, smashing the too-ripe fruit in the process.

      "Oh, my," Pandora murmured.

      But Molly already had a handkerchief out to wipe up the mess. "I've got enough for today, thank you," she said by way of parting. She didn't wait for Pandora's goodbye before Disapparating back home.

      And home…at home, Molly was left with her own thoughts and the knowledge that answering a silent letter however she wanted was a simple thing, really (just as easy as a swish of her quill!). But being constantly confronted with greetings and "Mrs. Weasley" while she was trying to adjust…it made all this feel like a futile task.

      And that didn't help at all.

      By the end of the week, Molly had another plan. Nothing outrageous, of course—just to surprise Arthur at work with lunch.

      Much as it had been a long time when she'd last been "Miss Prewett" to his "Mr. Weasley," it'd been a long time since they'd last had a spontaneous date like this…and it would do Molly some good to get out of the Burrow, to get out of Ottery St. Catchpole. Thank Merlin she'd been blessed to have Cedrella as her mother-in-law and nearby, too; Molly dropped the children off to her and Septimus late Friday morning, and her in-laws sent her off with hugs and kisses and "Don't rush to pick them up!"

      Arriving in London was a stark reminder of why they'd chosen Ottery St. Catchpole to live, Molly mused when she landed close by outside the Ministry's visitor entrance. The air was thick here and metallic and made her cough, nothing at all like the fresh and earthy scent of the Burrow.

      Inside the Ministry wasn't much better. The Burrow gave them sunshine and greenery. The Ministry of Magic was…old and stone and darkness. Molly shivered on her way to the lifts.

      It'd truly been too long since she'd last been here. She'd forgotten how the interdepartmental memos overhead hovered like bees and that bodies squished into the lifts much as she crammed vegetables into pickling jars for the season. Thankfully, her ride was short and spat her out onto Level Two, where she followed a few signs and some familiar faces (again, she heard friendly calls of "Hullo, Mrs. Weasley!") on her way to the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.

      She ignored the greetings for now by recalling the Dirigible Plum incident and by focusing on Arthur's office straight ahead. And that was the right thing to do: Everything else seemed to fade into background noise when Arthur picked his head up from his work and saw her coming through his cracked-open door, his face lighting up with delight.

      "Mollyw—!" He stopped short, turning bright red at almost calling her by her pet name here, of all places. He sheepishly offered her a hug despite her tiny glare. "Hello, luv. This is a pleasant shock."

      "Well, we haven't done this in forever, and it felt like a good time for it," Molly declared, sinking into his arms after setting the basket of food on his desk. "Your parents have the kids, so I'm yours for lunch and dinner, if you like."

      "Mm," Arthur hummed. He sighed happily into her hair and broke away only to conjure up a second chair for his wife. "I rather like the sound of that."

      Molly smiled.

      They opened the basket, revealing ham sandwiches and leftover slices of the spiced Dirigible Plum pie from the night before, as well as the last bottle of butterbeer Molly had found in the back of the fridge. Arthur split the bottle evenly between two cups and toasted to their rare afternoon together, just the two of them.

      Molly seconded that, although the toast caught the attention of others in the office or passing through. Some git whistled at them and another snickered, but an older one—was that the one Arthur mentioned was Perkins?—said hello and wished "the Weasleys a pleasant day."

      "Molly?" Arthur asked when his wife set her drink down and frowned at her plate.

      She twisted her lips around.

      "Is something the matter, luv?"

      Molly exhaled, low and slow. She picked at the crust on the remaining half of her sandwich and left the last few sips of her part of the butterbeer alone. Not even the pie smelled appetizing anymore.

      Arthur finished his sandwich but took his bites slowly, all the while keeping an eye on Molly. He took a polite bite of the pie and smiled at the familiar flavor. Yet when even that didn't turn her frown upside–down, Arthur wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed out of his chair. "All right, Molly. Come with me."

      She furrowed her brow while he tried to tug her up. "What? Arthur, your lunch break can't last much longer. There's no place to go—"

      "Come, come. Just come along, luv."

      Molly raised one eyebrow.

      "Just—take a walk with me. You'll see."

      That lone, skeptical eyebrow stayed put as Arthur donned his outer cloak and rearranged Molly's shawl on her shoulders. So, it wasn't going to be a walk around the Ministry… Molly followed him to the employees' exits, and they vanished in a puff of green smoke the second they stepped into a free fireplace. They arrived in a designated spot shooting off from Diagon Alley; Molly recognized the backside of what could only be Obscurus Books.

      "Ah, this way," Arthur insisted, taking Molly by the hand and leading her away from the publisher.

      Now she was confused. "Just how far are we going?"

      Arthur squeezed her hand in reply: Trust me.

      Well, that was just silly. Of course she trusted Arthur.

      They walked up a narrow, winding, but clean-swept alleyway. When Arthur emerged and brought Molly along with him, she understood in an instant why he'd wanted to get out here.

      It was Muggle London. Yes, it still stank and made her cough…but this was outside the Ministry, outside the Wizarding world, outside their bubble of those who knew (or, rather, didn't know) they called her the wrong name.

      And, for that reason alone, Molly could breathe.

      Arthur waited a moment for her to reorient herself before they eased into a leisurely pace on the pavement. He glanced at the Muggle wares through the assorted stores' glass, but Molly caught him one time too many watching her in the reflection.

      She leaned against his left arm. "…thank you, for bringing me out here."

      He nodded.

      She slipped her hand into his as they continued to walk, against the tide of some Muggles and with the flow of others. Molly squeezed in close to Arthur. "I've been so silly, Arthur."

      "How?"

      "This whole 'M. Prewett' thing." She shook her head, her voice cracking as she continued after a minute, "I can't believe it's taken me a whole week to figure it out, but it won't work."

      He inhaled and exhaled but didn't comment. He squeezed her hand, urging her to continue voicing her thoughts.

      "I feel so ridiculous for getting upset at every other person, friend or not, for calling me the wrong name. It's—It's not that others will never stop seeing me as 'Mrs. Molly Weasley.' What hurts more— No, what hurts the most is that there are no Prewetts left."

      Arthur stopped them by a postbox and drew her near it, so they were out of the path of foot traffic. Then he faced her with pinched eyebrows. "Molly…what? How can you say that? What about your parents and your aunt and uncle?"

      She shook her head. "No, Arthur, no. Uncle Ig and Aunt Lucy never had children. My parents had just us. And Fabian and Gideon are gone now. The Prewett line…it ends with me."

      There.

      There it was.

      She'd said it aloud. The notion had been on the periphery of her thoughts since she'd first decided to take up her maiden name again…but it felt safer, somehow, to keep this idea unvoiced, to keep it buried, as if saying it aloud would make it too real.

      But…it was real, as real as Mad-Eye Moody's horrible apology and the two bodies he'd brought home to her parents two weeks ago.

      Letting reality finally sink in caused things to bubble up inside her, and Molly balled her hands up into fists, pressed her fists against her eyes, angry and trying not to cry in the middle of the street. Arthur held her, tight, against him, and it was a help and a comfort, but her emotions wouldn't settle, and she hiccupped into his shoulder.

      "It ends with me," she mumbled into his cloak, "and no changing my name or mindset or anything can fix that."

      "Molly, I…"

      It wasn't Mad-Eye's apology that came to mind anymore. No, Arthur came to mind now, and that afternoon, and her trying not to cry, and Arthur crying in her stead, sharing in her pain and wishing he could fix it or take it away or anything.

      And all of it—all of it—seemed like such small worries when, just weeks later, Voldemort finally fell, all at the magic of toddler Harry Potter.

      That news made the rounds faster than lightning, but it was a hollow victory, Molly mused, for the losses of Lily and James, for the betrayal of Sirius, for all the heartache that led up to the end of this war.

      "But," Molly said as she folded The Daily Prophet and set it and its speculation of Death Eaters' futures aside on the sofa, "if this war is over and it means you will grow up in peace, then I will come to terms with my past and present."

      Baby Ginny smacked her lips at her mother and then stuck her tongue out.

      Molly laughed and tickled her baby in her rocker, bringing a smile to Ginny's face. "Yes, yes, my spunky little one. You'll grow up to be a kind witch able to bring a smile to anyone's face… I won't have to worry about you trying to stop Dark Lords or his followers now, will I?"

      "Reckon she's got to pursue another line of work," Arthur agreed, joining them in the living room that evening.

      Molly smiled at him. "The boys tired yet? It's nearly dinnertime."

      "Ah, there's still a bit of light left. Bill and Charlie are using Mum's and Fabian's old brooms for a bit, but they promised to keep their brothers on the ground."

      "Oh, Arthur. Really? I'm not sure I like them flying without supervision."

      "Bill will be eleven shortly, Molly, and you know he's got a good head on his shoulders." Arthur came and joined her on the sofa. He raised his eyebrows. "It's looking a lot as though both he and Charlie have Mum's thirst for Quidditch."

      "But—Cedrella never got to play."

      "Nope. So that thirst will be even worse this generation," Arthur said with a laugh.

      Molly rolled her eyes, but then she noticed Arthur hadn't come empty-handed, which also might explain him sneaking back inside for a quiet moment with her. "What do you have there?"

      He blinked, and those twin spots of red bloomed on his cheeks as usual. Arthur passed her a large gift wrapped in butcher's paper bespelled with a colorful blue tartan pattern and topped with a green bow. "Happy belated birthday, Mollywobbles."

      She opened her mouth but held her tongue. That was right. Her birthday had been days ago—but then the massacre in Godric's Hollow had happened and… Everyone, not just Molly, had had better things to dwell on. Everyone except Arthur, of course. "Oh, Arthur…"

      "Go on. Open it."

      She gave him a tiny but grateful smile and arranged the surprisingly hefty item across her lap. Molly tore the packaging open in thick strips, confused to find a clock. Then she took a second look at it and saw the clock didn't tell time.

      The clock had destinations ("school," "work," "mortal peril," to name a few) instead of hours. Where there ought to be hour and minute and second hands, there were nine hands total and each one had a name: seven for each of their children and one each for her and for Arthur.

      Molly gaped at her husband.

      "You once said you wanted to know where your family is, at all times. Now…you can." He scratched his right cheek in a bashful manner. "You, um, can hang it on the wall or stand it up or take it with you—it's got an Enlargement Charm on it, so size is no issue." Arthur dropped his eyes to the clock and he motioned to it with his chin.

      As if the gift weren't enough, Arthur had had it engraved, as well. In swirling cursive, she read:

      To my one and only M. Prewett–Weasley

      "Thank you," she whispered, emotion dampening her volume. She turned and kissed his cheek and happily accepted his arms around her.

      She…She'd meant what she'd told Ginny, about coming to terms with her past and her present, and Arthur's gift felt like a sign that she'd made the right choice.

      She was Molly Prewett and she was Molly Weasley.

      She was Molly Prewett–Weasley, and she would be all right and carry on.

Also done for the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #9: blankly) in the HPFC forum on FFN. Oh…my. This turned out to be one of those fics that spiraled out of control. XD SO MANY HEADCANONS…! I knew that, when I saw the prompt of "hard," I wanted to portray Molly's struggle in the aftermath of her brothers' deaths. Originally, this was only going to be her trying out her maiden name again…but several other things cropped up (a bit of my hc for Errol's origins, which I promise I have more of *eyes* and also the debut of the Weasley family clock, amongst other, minor details). I also thought this would be more gen than shippy, but Arthur was just…so, so supportive here that I can't not tag this as Morthur on AO3 and on tumblr. ;w; Writing loss is hard and painful, but having all her kids around her to act sorta like foils helped a lot, as well as including the letter-sorting scene. To think: Molly only turns 32 by the end of this story. That's barely older than me as I currently write this, and it gives me pause. What else… Regarding the family cat: I direct you to my story, "The Lingering Scent of Basil," a fan favorite. Additionally, working on this story in particular has me itching to work on a piece I drafted last summer, but I'm not yet sure if I will stick it in Fortune Favors the Brave or post it separately, but it does elaborate on smthg in the bkgd here. We'll see! And remember: If you're reading this on FFN, just follow this collection; if you're reading on AO3 or tumblr, then follow along with the series. -w-

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[sunwoobbeokie]

Lovers in Seoul Chapters 3 & 4

4.1k word count

Ongoing Novel

So as I’m unpacking my hunger starts to grow more. “Ugh I’m starving.”  Then I hear a knock on the door. “Oh come in!” I say. Then a taller man walks through the door with blonde hair that kinda reminds me of a puppy. 

“Uh H-Hi I’m Yunho I was told that you just moved in and I wanted to give you a proper greeting and welcome you to Korea.” he says starting to blush a little bit and I laugh at his actions. “Nice to meet you Yunho, I’m Kaia.*stomach growls*.” I hold my stomach out of embarrassment. 

“Aha I can see you’re  hungary.” he points out and I turn red like a tomato. “ Yeah I haven’t eaten since I boarded my yesterday.” I say still holding my stomach. “ Well Yeosang and I were on our way to grab something. Do you want to come?” he asked. “Sure why not? It will help me get used to the town. “ I say as I slip on my shoes. So we walked out of my room and he mentioned Yeosang. 

“ Uh Yunho? Who is Yeosang?” I asked him. “I’m Yeosang.” a beautiful man pops up out of nowhere and his aura is just as bright as him. 

“ Hi Yeosang, I'm Kaia. Wow, you're so handsome. I mean I’m sorry.” I say I'm still dying of embarrassment. “Aha it’s okay, it's not everyday we have a girl in our apartment.” he chuckles a little bit. *Stomach growls* 

“ Let’s get you some food before you get a stomachache.” Yunho says. “Please I beg!” Still holding my stomach and now my face.

Later that night

We had just got home and we might’ve had a few drinks. We were stumbling over each other close enough we could kiss but they would be weird. “I-I’m gonna we’re gonna go to bed now.” Yunho says, slurring his words and stumbling. “Okay goodnight!” I laughed at him and Yeosang as they  walked  to their  room. I don’t start school until next week but maybe I can get to know each member to make sure that this is the right place for me. So I go into my room after a fun night with new friends and I get ready to settle down, when I hear another knock at the door. I looked at my watch to see what time it was and it was almost midnight. So I thought to myself, “Who could that be at this time of night?” So I walked over to the door and I saw three more handsome men. One has a sweet gummy smile, the other one has broad shoulders, and the one has tan beautiful skin. I was confused as to why they were here. “Yunho wasn’t joking! Aha we thought he was drunk and seeing things.” The tan one exclaims. “Uhm I’m Kaia, I just moved in, Nice to meet you all.” I say to break the awkward tension. “Oh I’m Wooyoung, this is San and Jongho.” He says. “ Nice to meet you all. I don’t mean to be rude but it is a little late. May I please go to bed?” I say with a kind smile. “O-oh yes for sure we didn’t mean to interrupt.” San says, grabbing the other members and starting to walk away. “Goodnight! Once again it was night meeting you all!” I say whispering down the hallway. Well this was an interesting night but Hongjoong told me there were eight of them.. There’s Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho and Yeosang..San, Wooyoung, and Jongho. One was missing.. I shrugged it off and just proceeded to get ready for bed. 

So I was sleeping peacefully when I started to hear rumbling coming from outside my door as if people were whispering. So I got up to peek outside my door and I saw this tall figure standing in front of the door next to Yunho and Yeosang’s Room. He had dark hair and was wearing a cap as if he just got back from somewhere. I kept staring at him to make sure that he wasn’t an intruder. But I saw Yunho come out of his room so I panicked and ran back to my bed. 

“Ya…Why are you getting back so late? Why didn’t you just wait until the morning?” he says in a raspy voice. “I could wait, I missed you guys so much that I almost watched a scary movie.” the other man says. “Mingi-ah… We missed you too but if you missed us why didn’t you call?” Yunho says. “Mingi?” I whispered under the covers. “ I know but I’m better now and our manager said I can come back.” Mingi says and he sounds excited. “Well go get some rest. We have to leave in a few hours.” Yunho says, sliding back into his room “Goodnight!” Mingi says, and they part ways.

“Hmmm Mingi?”

Chapter 4:

-The next morning-

I don’t know if it was me or not about being in a different country but that was the best sleep I’ve ever had. I decided to get ready for the day. I grabbed my items to get in the shower and headed to the bathroom. I walked out of my room to a quiet house. I was confused but I forgot the guys left earlier this morning. So I started my shower and wrapped myself in a towel to start my skin care. “Hey Siri, play Seoul by RM.” I say, grabbing my toothbrush. “Now playing Seoul by RM on apple music.” As the music starts to play I just feel a sense of relaxation. After I finished my skin care my shower was warmed up and I was ready to get it but before I unwrapped my towel the bathroom door opened and as I turned around it was the tall figure I saw last night SHIRTLESS. I didn’t know what to do but stare then he looked at me confused and he began to turn red. “ OH I UHH I’M S-sorry!” he says in a panic and then leaves. In my head I was just thinking “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?”

MINIGI’S POV

So I had just woken up since the others left earlier. I told them I was coming a little later so I could eat and shower before practice. So I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around me and headed towards the bathroom and I saw it was already in use. I assume one of the others decided to stay back with me and we can go in together. So I opened the door to a girl with brown curly hair, and she was just in a towel just staring at me. “OH I UHH I’M S-sorry!” I said in a panic and left with no hesitation. “When in hell did they have a girl over and how is she here?” I asked myself.

-end of mingi’s pov-

I stare in shock as the door slams closed once more, my eyes wide and my hands still covering my body. Did I just get walked in on? I thought. Still, my eyes never leave the door, the image of Mingi’s shirtless body still standing there on the threshold kept me rooted to my spot on the floor.

This was only going to get more awkward from here. Did he see me naked? What would do to this new roommate arrangement? Is it normal for roommates to see each other naked? Is it weird for me to want to see his shirtless torso again?

I shake my head. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. 

“Come one Kaia, get it together,” I sigh, before spinning on my heel towards the steaming shower. I decided to let the hot water wash away whatever worried thoughts were running through my mind, and it did just that. Warm water dripped down my body and slowly eased the tension that had worked its way into my aching muscles. The stress from this move had finally taken its toll on my body and exhaustion felt like it had settled into my bones and resided in the marrow. The water washed it away, though, it cleansed me of the dirt, grime, and stress that plagued my skin. 

I sighed, stepping out of the shower and onto the cold tiles of the bathroom. A chill immediately battled against the warmth of the steam that kissed my skin. I quickly remedied the chill of the air with a warm towel wrapped around my body. I held it there for a moment, before making the quick trek back into my room. 

I opened the door to the familiar sight of my room, albeit bare and devoid of any personal touches yet, it was still mine. Except it wasn’t…not currently anyway…not with the giant man that sat at the end of my bed with a guilty look on his face. 

“Oh my god!” I immediately flushed, fire licking at my cheeks as I spun around so I didn’t have to see the muscles that rippled beneath his skin. “Um…what are you doing in here?”

“I came to apologize,” he said quickly as if just now realizing how awkward this situation was, “For uh…for uh walking in on you.”

“And tell me how this is any better?” I asked before shaking my head. Don’t be a bitch, I thought, He’s your roommate. Don’t make this any more weird than it already is. “Uh…sorry but could you uh maybe have done this…I don’t know…after you put clothes on?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “That probably would have been better…”

“You think?” I couldn’t help but huff. I was still facing my room, and he was still sitting on my bed…in nothing but a towel. 

“Oh yeah right.. Sorry…I’ll leave.” he proceeds to get up and his towel drops and now he is fully naked. My eyes widened at the sight of his cock and I began to blush and I immediately turned away. 

“O-oh my God” I say, still embarrassed by what just happened. 

“I- uhh I.” Mingi begins to stutter. 

“No it’s fine just grab your towel and wrap it up please.” I chuckled. 

So he quickly grabs his towel and runs out the room. “This was not how I wanted to meet Mingi.” I whispered to myself. Ugh I felt like a bitch to him. Now I have to apologize to him. So I put on my clothes that I was wearing for the day and I got the courage to apologize to him. “Mingi?” I say knocking on his door and I was waiting for an answer but I hear nothing. So I walk in and he has his head down. “Mingi?” his head pops up in confusion. “I just want to say I’m sorry if I seemed like a total bitch earlier. I was wondering if we can start over?” I say, with my hand held out waiting for him to shake it. He stood up over me not to mention I’m 5 '0 this man is about 6' 0-6 '1.I was waiting for an answer but we just stood there with our eyes locked. My heart began to pound against my chest and I said to myself “I just met him today but why does it feel like forever?” Then all of a sudden he grabs me and our lips are intertwining with each other. My eyes widened at his actions. I wanted to push him away but my heart was telling me not to. Then I finally pull away. “Uhh I-I gotta go.” I say running out the room in confusion. By the time I left his room the guys were returning for their break. “Hey K-aia?” San says, looking concerned as I run into my room.

[garf-eats-vomit]

WATER BOTTLES.

When I was younger I had a lot of punishments. I still do. I live with my parents even though I'm 18 and they [mostly mother] treat me like a child. This hasn't happened in years, but there was a Maximum Punishment they would inflict once in a blue moon when they deemed it necessary. It was called water bottles. It was set up by grabbing two full water bottles, and my dad [he's a tall muscular man, much more so than myself, just for context] would come with me into a secluded room in the house. One time it was me and him in the kitchen at night, and I was in my pajamas. I don't remember if he actually got me out of bed, but that did happen a few times. Other times it was in his room, or my room, or the garage. Anyway, the way you played the game was you took two water bottles and held one in each of your hands by the tops, straight out in a T pose. You would do this until your arms got tired, and if they dropped for too long dad would make me put them down and you'd go over and get spanked. And he didn't do the usual light spankings where it was just a light swat. This man had me bend down over his knee and he'd smack me at full force, usually with a coat hanger, occasionally with his hand, several times. Then you'd go back over and do it all over again. This usually lasted for at least an hour. The whole time this was happening, he'd be asking you questions and lecturing you on whatever it was that you'd done. Usually this was school related. It boiled down to me not doing my work for no real reason. I just didn't want to. So they had to *make* me want to. Eventually this evolved, two tines in fact. The first was when water bottles were replaced with five pound weights. It was really just a matter of convenience. I still don't like the way weights feel when I lift them. Anyway. This change was largely inconsequential. The second change happened when I got older, from elementary to middle school. There was a new challenge added to the game, wall squats were introduced. They worked fundamentally the same as the water bottle/weight portion, do the squats until you couldn't anymore and go over for a spanking. The many times this has happened the game was played much the same, the only thing that really makes any individual time stick out in my memory is the location. Bedrooms in different houses, sometimes mine, sometimes my parents', that one time in the kitchen. I believe that was the very first time that punishment took place. It was for drawing with marker on the part of the tile that would never clean off. I might’ve been seven or eight. I don't remember. I think one of the most vivid memories I have is when I was perhaps in seventh grade. We had been doing water bottles for a while, in my parents' room. I was laid out over my dad's knee, crying my eyes out and getting snot everywhere. He hit me with the coat hanger once again, and the force was so strong the plastic broke, and it snapped clean in half and it flew across the room. I look back on it as funny now.

In the same house, I vividly remember coming home from a bad day at school, and the first thing I did was lock myself in the bathroom, sit down, and pray to God I wouldn't have to do water bottles.

Generally while he was talking, my dad would work himself up the longer it went on, and he's kind of an angry person in general. As a reminder, he's tall and muscular, going to the gym regularly, daily now. He would scream and break things. We still have an old cd player with a big black dent in it from when he kicked it with his boot. And for years one of our closet doors had a gaping hole in one side where there was evidence of him getting angry.

It's been years since I've had to do water bottles. We've moved past that. I don't believe he's hit me in years, I've grown up. Mother still does occasionally, but she treats me like a child in general, so that's not a surprise or anything. Suffice to say water bottles had something close to the impact they were looking for, I suppose.