#my brother in christ. i promise you that is not the most confusing part of html and css. thats a fucking goddamn. MARGIN. are you ok bro???

[themanwhowouldbefruit]

professional full stack web developer screams and cries and shits himself over the horror of.  margins????????????????????????

[khaleesiofalicante]

Isgt I'm gonna try to keep it short but I make no promises lol... I do have LBAF V and VI to catch up to I have no regrets...

Selena having Arthur will always make me soft, and ngl I was kinda pissed at Lexi and Gabriel at first. I get them, but Lance is just baby🥺. Also, Lance helping Selena with the pain while giving birth and basically protecting Arthur before Arthur was born PLEASE I CAN'T 😭

Fucking hate Victoria for training Kincaid so young and also Madeline making life miserable for David. Those two are on my list of people I am willing to become a criminal for 😤

I don't know what drugs Other Max is on, but I can't deny he is funny as fuck LMAO. That scene with him and the shadowhunters trying to take the institute omfg

Max and Other Max convos always have me conflicted because they're so intense but at the same time it's him fighting with himself! Pls this man took self-hatred to a whole different level😂

Kincaid🥺🥺🥺. The first meet with Arthur was>>>>. I will kidnap that boy if I have to, he's the sweetest boy ever and he likes the other sweetest boy ever MY HEART CAN'T HANDLE THAT!!

“Why would you be scared of shadowhunters?” “Why would you be scared of shadow demons?” Arthur asked, equally confused. THE WAY THIS REFLECTS THEIR REALITIES ARE ON OPPOSITE ENDS. Arthur, growing up with Lance, is used to demons being friendly because his brother controls them and would probably tell them to never harm his family vs Kincaid. Growing up in Idris, being scared of what they have seen the shadow demons do... Fucking wow

Antoine really be giving books and changing lives. I want to be like him growing up🥰. Also he and Abigail???? HOT!!!

Someone said the experiment Atlas was trying with the lemon juice on paper was foreshadowing of Lance having angel blood but only being able to see it if you add another thing and I can't stop thinking about it. Still not sure it would matter to the clave if he did, but at least that way Lance and AJ could be parabatai!!! Tell me they will be. That's all I'm asking at this point 😭

I get Rafael having to put up wards against Lance, or someone might do something worse, but also... Dick move😒

“He does,” Rafael chuckled. “But that’s okay. He is my little brother. He has always hated me a little bit. The same way Abigail hates you. I’m fine with it. I can handle the hate. What I can’t handle is if he ever stops trusting me.” My therapist will hear about this, Dani😭

Gigi is the MVP. Only smart person here with common sense and fucking empathy. I'm glad to see the apple didn't fall far from the tree with Atlas 🥰. I just love how much Atlas loves his mom and is constantly thinking about her sjhskdbdj

Alec's chapter is to chaotic to sum up but I loved movie night 🥺🥺 and these kids are so unhinged jshsjdikwkk. Also see him being a grandparent makes me so emotional. He was just 18 yesterday wtf??? 😭

The confusion was comforting. He knew life wasn’t easy for the residents of this institute. But there was a small comfort in the fact that Arthur would never have to hide that part of himself. BOY DO I GOT YOU SOME NEWS-

Every part of Lance's chapter killed something in me🙂. This one was a whole other level of weakness. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for this boy. I'll have you know I am obsessed with them. Sibling dynamics just hits different 🥲 and I will make a whole other ask about them just because I can!!

It’s Theia Blackthorn. The Inquisitor’s daughter.” “Jesus Christ,” Lance said. “Raziel wasn’t available?” Say what you will about this asshole, but his humor is top tier!!! Also love how Blackbane form the start are so fucking horny and funny. Like they say the most out of pocket stuff and then cough and stutter JSHSJDJKDKDKD

Joan really be having the worst time here. Being 14 years old, wanting a friend and having a big crush on a straight girl??? Now that is a though life😔. I think her and Kincaid's friendship would fix me tbh... And I just fucking love her, she's so chaotic and gay🥰. All miscommunication aside, they did a fantastic trio

Her group chat with her grandparents 😍😍😍. They are the best!!! Damn, I wish my grandparents would have loved me lmao

“Yeah, because, going to a castle full of women is the right solution for lesbianism,” Mommy giggled. Me, age 13 when I thought going to an all girls school would be a good idea to stop liking girls. PS. I didn't go, but I feel it would have only made me gayer...

the way I read this and already miss LBAF V (like I finished writing it only a month ago lmao) these kids have already grown so much WTF.

Also something I really like about LBAF is that it gives me a lot of space (literally - like room!) to explore so many different types of relationships and dynamics instead of just romantic ones - which has anyone been one of my main interests when writing a story. I love that I can explore sibling relationships - like the dynamic between Lance/Arthur is SOOO different, let's say, what exists between Antoine and his sister or Cami and Arjun and all of them exist in the same story and it's just sooooo fun to play around with that.

PS - I went to an all girls school too (a convent no less) and YEAH IT'S TOUGH IF YOU ARE GAY AHHH.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 29.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Pre-Wedding Jitters, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink, Fingering, Praise, Lactation Kink, Milk Drinking, Pregnancy Kink, Wife Kink, Glazed Donut!OC

A/N: Today’s chapter is late because I’ve been busy playing New Pokemon Snap... sry. Shout out to @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia and @ppersonna because I’d be lost without them.

There are undoubtedly many events in life that make a person nervous -- your first day of high school and college, your first kiss, your first sexual experience, and for some even your first phone call you give to your doctor when you're no longer under your parents protection. But no one -- not a single person, told you how nervous your wedding day is.

Maybe it's the amount of people that are attending. Two hundred is no small number.

Or maybe it's the fact that with your belly sticking out so far you can barely see your feet makes you feel like you'll be judged.

Whatever it is, the feeling fucking sucks.

You've seen so many movies where the woman who is getting married is all laughs and smiles, giving cheers to anyone and everyone because it's her wedding day. But now, you can officially say it's bullshit.

The best part is, it isn't even today, it's tomorrow and you still are frightened to the bone at the thought.

"-And I mean, yeah. Fine. We chose the taupe napkins but who the fuck is Aubrey to say anything, y'know? Like she knows her colors… Evil witch. I swear I don't know how she passed kindergarten!"

Leena's rant drifts through your ears like a soft breeze. You haven't been paying attention for a while, if you're being honest.

"Y/N? Are you listening to me?!" Leena gawks, grabbing her glass of champagne from Taehyung's hand.

Again, you're caught up in your own mind. You play every scenario of how tomorrow will be and they all seem to be terrible ideas.

What if you trip walking down the aisle?

What if your heel snaps on the way up?

What if your water breaks in front of two hundred people?

What if-

A small square of balsamic bruschetta appears in front of your face and your eyes narrow at the piece of bread.

You feel your soon-to-be husband's fingers pushing back some stray hairs behind your ear. "Food for thought?" he quips happily.

He has not had a frown on his face in what seems like forever. You adore it, you really do. But how can he not be nervous? Your heart is practically thrumming out of your chest.

"Open," he whispers.

Reluctantly, you open your mouth for the appetizer. When he leans in, you look back down at your lap.

"I can see your heart racing through the artery in your neck," he murmurs against your ear.

His hand squeezes your knee under the table reassuringly as he pulls away.

Yoongi wants to pry, he wants to ask you what's got you so in your own head but there are a few too many people here for that.

"Noona, you're an amazing cook." Jeongguk whines, grabbing another piece of steak off the platter.

"You're actually disgusting." Jimin breathes, wrinkling his nose at the youngest's third steak.

"I need my meat, that's how I win in the ring. Gets me all big and strong." Guk beams, cutting into the large t-bone.

"That's what she said!" Hoseok and Taehyung chirp at the same time.

You watch as they high five each other with child-like smiles plastered onto their faces.

"Are you tired? Do you want to call it a night?" your fiance inquires softly, turning his whole body towards you so the rest of the room can't hear him.

You would never want to take away from the festivities. It's just that your stupid anxiety is overwhelming. Looking over at your handsome partner, your fingers intertwine with his. He's quick to kiss the back of your hand, searching your eyes for some sort of hint as to why you're so down.

"No. I'm fine. I'm sorry." you reply, giving him a small smile.

His eyes narrow at your smile and he takes a sharp breath through his teeth in confusion.

"Al...right, if you say so." he says unsurely, running your intertwined hands over your belly.

"Y/N!" Leena whines from across the table and this time you give her your full attention.

You need to try and push this anxiousness elsewhere even for a little while. You will not be a horrible host.

"Yes Beena," you inquire, leaning your chin on your hand.

"Did you hear me? Did you hear what Kim Aubrey said about my wedding planning skills?!" she screeches.

You can only snort as all eyes around the table land on you. "I don't know why you indulge her. Isn't she the one that shit her pants in chemistry when she was fifteen?"

Yoongi laughs loudly, throwing his head back and placing his hand on his chest.

"Actually yeah, she sat two rows behind me!" Namjoon chimes in with wide eyes. His nose wrinkles at the sudden memory and you don't blame him as he pushes his plate away in a sudden state of queasiness.

"So I don't suck at wedding planning?" your best friend pouts across the long table to you.

"Absolutely not." you insist, winking at her.

"This wedding is going to be the biggest event of the entire year. Maybe even the biggest event of the next ten years." Anna, Jimin's wife cheers.

Oh.

Good.

Love that.

"Well, I think we just want people to have a good time. We aren't worried about what impact it will have." Yoongi says quickly, caressing his thumb over the back of your hand to calm you down.

He's not dumb. He's figured it out by now, but he'll still want to hear it from your lips later on.

"Yeah right. 'Min Yoongi and his artistically talented fiance WOW people with their show stopping matrimony' is gonna be on the cover of Dispatch in two days." Hoseok murmurs.

"Oh yeah? And you're gonna be the one giving them the hot scoop, then?" Namjoon jeers, pointing his index finger over the lip of his glass of brandy at the handsome man.

Hobi sneers in his direction and Yoongi can only respond with a chuckle.

"My fiance is pretty show stopping." the CEO surmises, leaning back in his chair.

"Please. I'm eating. Christ." Leena groans through a mouthful of pasta.

It is nice to have so many close friends around tonight though. You hope it can distract you long enough for the nervousness brewing and bubbling inside of you to subside.

When conversations begin to break up and become between smaller groups of people, you can feel his eyes on you like a heat source.

"Little dove?" Yoongi coos softly, rubbing your distended side.

You hum to him, turning to give him your full attention.

"Tomorrow is going to be beautiful and perfect." he promises, tilting your chin up with his index finger.

"No, I know. I'm just-"

"Worried." he finishes for you and he's not surprised to see your reluctant nod of agreement.

"I know. I'm nervous too." he admits, kissing your cheek.

"You've already gotten married before," you scoff, allowing his arm to curl around your shoulders.

"Actually I was black out drunk and can't remember a single thing because I was venomously angry with the dumb bitch that ruined my life before you." he replies with a wide smile.

"Oh. Good." you reply, rolling your eyes at his playfulness.

"So this is my first real wedding too. And even though I'm nervous, I'm excited. Because then when the wedding is over and we get to our honeymoon-"

"Uh uh." you gasp, smushing your finger to his lips.

He pouts against your finger, kissing it softly. "What?" he garbles against your digit.

"We have company." you whisper fiercely.

"Didn't stop you a few days ago when you sucked my cock beneath the desk upstairs while I was on a video meeting." he deadpans, pulling your hand away from his face.

"Yoongi!" you gasp, glancing over the table who hasn't heard a single thing.

You'd like to keep it that way.

"I can't wait to fuck your little pregnant cunt as you're Mrs. Min Yoongi." he beams, kissing your temple.

You can feel your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and you can only blame the man beside you for that one.

When you smack his chest out of shame, the noise echoes throughout the room, earning attention from all of the guests.

"Abuse is not nice, Y/N. Do you want to file a lawsuit, Yoongi?" Yoona quips, sticking her tongue out at you.

The CEO chuckles, squeezing your shoulder with glee. "No, she couldn't handle my lawyers." he bubbles.

"Oh yeah, you know you aren't supposed to sleep with each other tonight, right?" Leena inquires, moving her fork between the both of you.

The cackle Yoongi gives is loud and absurd, much like your best friend's comment. "I can't do anything to her she doesn't have proof of." he banters, pointing at your large belly.

Leena scoffs, pointing down at her plate. "Again. Eating. Gross." she enunciates, pouring herself another glass of expensive champagne.

Jimin's laugh rings throughout the dining room and Yoongi knows that he's the only person who could truly understand him in that moment.

"Why do people do that dumb tradition anyway?" Jeongguk asks, finally finishing his food.

"It actually comes from arranged marriages. When people didn't know who they were marrying." Yoona informs him.

"Fuck that luck shit. That's the saying, isn't it? 'It's bad luck to see the bride' or something like that." Hoseok breathes.

"I think I'm lucky," Yoongi, Namjoon and Jimin reply all at once.

Your best friend takes the opportunity to sneer at her boyfriend and you can't help but giggle at his hopeless expression. "You know I love you, baby." Taehyung coos, sliding his arm over her shoulders.

"Mhm." she drolls, rolling her eyes when both of you look at one another.

"What's for dessert?" Jeongguk asks pleasantly, tying his long black hair up into a ponytail.

"Are you serious? You're not full?" Namjoon gawks at the boxer.

"I was saving room for dessert!" he beams, looking over at you expectantly.

Jeongguk is sweet, sweeter than most younger men you've ever met. He feels something akin to a little brother to you at this point and it's wonderful to see that even if you're rich you can still have manners.

"I made just a simple cobbler, since the wedding cake tomorrow is going to be super heavy and rich." you announce.

Yoongi shoves his chair back, holding out his hand to help you up like the gentleman he is.

He watches you carefully sprinkle powdered sugar atop the dessert with warm eyes.

You don't know how difficult it's going to be walking up that aisle tomorrow, but you do know that your ankles are going to be on fire. They already are.

He picks up the ceramic dish for you, nodding to the chair for you to sit back down and your heart warms for what feels like the billionth time today.

He's such a special person.

"Yoongi is really cool these days, huh?" Jimin jeers, elbowing your fiance when he steps between him and Jeongguk to place the dessert onto the table.

"I've always been cool," he counters, nudging the younger man back

"Well…" Jeongguk and Taehyung droll at the same time.

"Whatever," the CEO breathes, rolling his eyes.

Your giggle seems to light up the room as well as Yoongi's heart. Slamming down in his chair beside you, he can't help the glee that courses through him.

He can't wait for tomorrow.

Climbing into bed, you let the mattress mold to your body and it feels like heaven to be finally laying down, your body certainly thanks you for it.

Yoongi leans against the wall, watching as you sigh happily. "I can just come to bed y'know? I don't need to stay up and hang out." he offers, padding towards you.

"No, that wouldn't be fair. It's your bachelor party. You should be able to play poker and drink." you reply, cupping your stomach.

His eyes drift over you and you can see how soft his expression is in the dim lighting. "You got out of your bachelorette party," he adds, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I have a reason. I'm pregnant." you deadpan, lifting your head to look at him.

"With my baby," he coos, stretching up the bed to lay down beside you.

"Don't get comfy." you warn him, running your fingers over his clothed chest.

"I'm not, I'll just stay until you fall asleep." he promises, kissing your forehead.

His hand drifts over your stomach and the tiny kick he feels makes his heart beat faster. "Hey, kid. How you doin' in there?" he whispers, running his thumb over the spot his son just hit.

You hum gently, letting your eyes flutter closed.

"I'm so tired but I'm so nervous." you announce in the quiet room.

Your fiance looks away from your belly to look over at you. "It's okay to be nervous, but don't let it supersede your happiness for tomorrow either."

You nod gently, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I just have so many scenarios going through my head."

"And none of them are nice, I'm sure." he replies, booping your nose with his index finger.

Scoffing in agreement, you bury your face into his sweet smelling neck.

"I can make you cum, it might make you sleepy," he offers.

"I can't return the favor though, I'm too tired. It'll be unfair," you whine.

When he clicks his teeth, you only hold him tighter to your body.

"I don't need you to 'return the favor' when you love someone as much as I love you, you'd do anything to see them comfortable." he replies, kissing the top of your head.

"They're waiting for you downstairs." you remind him.

"Let them wait. You come first," he breathes, running the tips of his fingers over your soft inner thighs.

You whine in disagreement but your body betrays you naturally. Your legs spread wider and your breath hitches, your lips softly suckle on the thin skin of his neck waiting patiently for what he will do next.

"Your skin is so soft," he whispers, tugging the seat of your panties to the side.

He pulls away from you just far enough to be able to see how well he pleases you and he's already aroused at the sight.

Your eyes are low with lust, bottom lip clamped between your teeth. Your nipples are stiff peaks, straining against the grey silk nightgown you adorn. He can see the grey fabric becoming darker with each passing second as you bead milk.

"God," he groans, parting your lower lips.

"Tomorrow when we fly to Japan, I'm gonna fuck you in every way you could possibly think of." he promises, running his middle finger through your arousal.

"H-How?" you inquire curiously, gasping when he taps the pad of his finger to your clit.

His lips part and his teeth clamp down on one of the cups of your nightgown before pulling down harshly.

You whimper at the chilly air that glides over your now exposed skin.

He lays soft, hot opened mouthed kisses to your nipple, watching your eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

"How am I going to fuck you?" he prods.

You nod fervently, capturing your index finger between your teeth.

"Well," he begins, drawing smooth, slow circles to your swelling clit, "I'll start on the red eye. I'll take you back to the bedroom and take off that pretty wedding dress you'll be wearing just for me."

"Daddy," you whimper, spreading your legs wider for more.

He hums in agreement, pulling off your underwear to free you completely before him.

"I'm gonna make sure the whole crew of my plane knows you're getting fucked by your husband. Gonna have you screaming my name while I fuck your tight little pussy with my thick cock." he avows, kissing over your shoulder.

His words send shivers up your spine and your toes curl with excitement.

"Fuck," you whimper, grinding your hips down onto his hand.

"Gonna hold your big belly in my hands while I fuck you from behind. Let your milk drip all over the sheets of the bed on the plane. You're gonna beg me to go harder, to fill your dirty pregnant cunt full of my cum. I'm gonna make you feel so good, you aren't even going to care that everyone can hear you calling me daddy."

Shoving two fingers inside of you, he skillfully taps the soft patch of nerves within you and your brain is already firing on all cylinders to cum for him. His thumb begins to press harder circles into your clit and when you cup your belly, his eyes roll back at the sight.

"Gonna get you to the secluded hotel and fuck you out on the balcony, in the bath tub, on the bed, anywhere I can get my hands on you. Because I need you wrapped around me. Always." he murmurs into your ear.

"Shit!" you cry out, letting your head loll back to the pillow.

"Good girl, little dove." he praises, unbuttoning his pants for relief.

The head of his cock peeks out from the lip of his briefs and you whimper at the pearl of precum that beads at the tip.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, kissing from your collarbone to your pert nipple.

When he suckles softly, your hips lift at the erotocism. He moans at the taste of your milk and his hand ghosts over his hard cock.

"Daddy," you cry out, starting to shake from the overwhelming pleasure.

Sitting up on his knees, he shoves his pants down further. He parts your legs wider and he doesn't seem to care that all of his friends are waiting patiently for him downstairs.

His cock ruts between your folds and you're ever so close to cumming with every swipe the head of his cock brushes against your clit.

"So warm," he murmurs, purchasing his bottom lip between his teeth.

Your moans begin to get louder and he knows you're so close to releasing your pleasure.

"That's it baby, you're so close." Yoongi notices, running his hands over your stomach.

"O-Oh my God!" you cry out, grabbing his hands over your belly.

"I know, little dove. Feels good, huh?" he coos.

You're so obscenely wet, that even without him being inside you he's finding himself close to his own end.

It's just you in general, you overstimulate him in ways he can barely understand.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum." you bleat, gripping his hands harder.

"Cum for me, little dove. I want to see your pretty face when you cum for me." he begs, rutting his hips harder against your core.

You do as told, cumming for him with white spotted eyes and loud sobs of pleasure.

"Good girl," he praises, pulling away from your weeping pussy.

He fists his cock in hand, dragging the swollen, leaking tip over your belly. "Such a pretty woman I have beneath me. Fuck," he curses, jerking his hand faster.

Even as tiredness begins to shroud you, you want him to orgasm too. "Daddy, cum all over my belly. Want to feel your warm cum."

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, his eyes snapping to yours.

When you palm your breasts, his eyes immediately falter to them. You pinch your nipples purposefully, earning droplets of milk that stream slowly over your digits.

"Oh fuck!" he gasps loudly, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Want your cum so badly," you whimper, looking up at him with doe-like eyes.

"Yeah? You want me to cum all over your belly?" he prods, feeling his balls tightening.

You nod fervently, leaving your breasts to rub circles to your distended skin.

"Fuck!" he curses, squeezing his eyes shut as his orgasm courses through him. His cock throbs and stutters in his hand and you hum with satisfaction when you feel his warm cum land on your belly.

"God, you're too sexy for your own good." the father of your child jeers, sitting back on the heels of his feet.

You find yourself giving a tired giggle and your eyelids slowly begin to shield your eyes from view.

"Good girl." he whispers softly, hopping off the bed to clean your stomach.

When he comes back with a wet towel, he can see that you're already fast asleep. He's happy knowing that you'll be able to sleep even if it's only for a few hours.

He can understand your worries and your fears but he wants you to be able to enjoy your wedding too.

Kissing your forehead as he cleans your belly, he sighs softly. "My wife," he breathes, closing his eyes.

"I'll be back later, my love." he promises, tossing the rag back into the bathroom.

Yoongi covers your naked body with the comforter and his heart is thudding in the recesses of his chest with joy.

Just a few more hours and you'll be legally his.

"Remind me why we're playing poker the night before your wedding instead of going out?" Taehyung asks, throwing chips into the center of the green felted table.

"Because there's no pregnant strippers around these parts," Jimin jeers, picking up his beer.

Yoongi sneers at the younger man beside him, elbowing him almost out of embarrassment.

"What? If I could go see a pregnant strip show, believe me, I would."

"We know." everyone replies, rolling their eyes.

"Last time you had a bachelor party, man, that shit was fun." the hotel CEO recalls.

"You had fun." Yoongi reminds him, ashing his cigar.

"Also, aren't you completely smitten with Leena anyway? You want her to have your baby." Namjoon prods, placing his cards down on the table.

Taehyung smirks at his comment, leaning back into his chair and slinging his arm over the lip. "Oh, I'm very happy. She's everything I could possibly want." he affirms, smiling to himself.

"Then why do you want to go to a strip club?" Hoseok adds, throwing chips onto the table.

"Because I like tits. Jesus Christ, just crucify me why don't you!" Tae replies appalled.

Yoongi snorts loudly, clamping his teeth down on his cigar.

He wonders if you're okay, if you've woken up in the past few hours due to his son being so active.

His fingers flex uncomfortably and he's still surprised how much his life has changed in such a small amount of time. He's gone from being a violent, sadistic, narcissistic asshole to being a needy, loving and adoring man. And that's all thanks to you.

You've completely changed the pattern of his DNA and he could never appreciate you as much as you deserve.

"You excited for tomorrow, hyung?" Guk's voice pulls him from his thoughts and he smirks at the younger man.

"Very excited but very nervous." he admits to his group of friends.

"I remember the night of his other wedding. He was so fucking drunk he could barely stand up on his own." Jimin recalls with a laugh.

"I had to hold him up with my shoulder from behind so he didn’t fall backwards." Namjoon adds with a sharp laugh.

Yoongi smirks to himself, looking down at his pocket which holds his wallet. "Well, I'm just glad we don't have to have a repeat of that horrible day again."

"You got lucky dude, not many people find their soulmate when they were an asshole like you were." Hoseok says, pointing at the Kisung CEO.

His sneer is terrifying but probably only to himself as the other men laugh at Hobi's words.

"Y/N completely made him do a 180." Joon concurs.

"I like Y/N noona a lot. She fits in well and she's always optimistic and sweet. We needed someone like her in our lives." Guk beams and your soon-to-be husband seems to glow in their praise.

He loves hearing his friends talk so highly of you. He loves knowing that you're loved for being yourself, especially because you don't know it very often.

He can remember when he first met you, in the back of Seokjin's club. You were sweet and kind but a smart ass and cheeky at the same time. You intrigued him on so many levels and he can remember how badly he wanted to destroy you. But he never would have expected to fall in love with you as earnestly as he has.

And he wouldn't change it for anything in the universe.

"Leena has been putting in so much work for this wedding, you would think it's hers." Taehyung laughs, pulling Yoongi out of his reverie.

"And when are you getting married to her then?" the Kisung CEO inquires, ashing his cigar.

The question seems to stupify the handsome hotel owner, he stutters and shifts awkwardly in his seat trying to reply to the sudden question.

"Jesus, you broke him!" Jimin laughs, clapping his best friend on the back.

Taehyung's cheeks burn bright red and his hand immediately cups the back of his neck out of embarrassment. "I mean I bought a ring. I just haven't thought of anything romantic to y'know… ask her."

Beer goes flying out of Jimin's mouth and the sneer Yoongi gives makes him want to die on the spot.

"Jimin. You're paying for the new felt, you fucking animal." Yoongi gripes, watching Namjoon and Hoseok heartily laugh at the younger man.

"That'll be great! Leena noona is really nice!" Jeongguk cheers, hugging Taehyung happily.

"Thanks…" Tae breathes embarrassed.

Yoongi winks at him and he isn't surprised in the slightest, he knows just how smitten the man is with your best friend.

"Yoongi?"

The voice is gentle and tired.  In an instant he's burning out his cigar and waving the smoke away.

"Yeah, baby?" he calls to you, disregarding the others in the library.

"Just checking to see if you were all still here," you murmur, stepping into the library doorway.

You're beautiful in the dim glow of the library's lights and the smile that spreads over his face is heart shatteringly perfect.

"Still here." he beams, padding over to you.

"Okay." you bleat, rubbing your sleep hooded eyes.

"What're you doing up, my dove? You must be so tired." he inquires, pushing hair back behind your ear.

"I'm thirsty. Wanted water." you chirp, pressing your forehead into his chest.

"Okay. Get your water and I'll be up in a few minutes. Alright?" he promises, tipping your chin up with his index finger.

You hum in agreement, starting to yawn.

He chuckles at your sleepy state, kissing your forehead. He pats your backside for good measure before turning to his friends that are seated around the poker table.

"I think it's time to get some rest before the big day tomorrow."

The guys hum in agreement, tossing down their cards and standing up.

"Tomorrow's gonna be great, man. I'm really happy for you." Joon whispers, patting his shoulder as he heads out first.

Yoongi can only agree with a wide smile.

Tomorrow is the start to the rest of his life. And it's perfect, just like you.

Next Chapter ----->

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[spine-buster]

Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. T͟h͟i͟s͟ ͟c͟h͟a͟p͟t͟e͟r͟ ͟s͟p͟e͟c͟i͟f͟i͟c͟a͟l͟l͟y͟ ͟h͟a͟s͟ ͟m͟e͟n͟t͟i͟o͟n͟s͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟d͟e͟a͟l͟s͟ ͟w͟i͟t͟h͟ ͟m͟i͟s͟c͟a͟r͟r͟i͟a͟g͟e͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟s͟e͟x͟u͟a͟l͟ ͟a͟s͟s͟a͟u͟l͟t͟.͟  Please be warned.

Word Count: 14,637

Please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page if you are able.  Link in my bio & Masterlist.

A/N:  “Courage” officially broke my record for most notes on a debut chapter, so thank you all so much for all your likes and reblogs!  This chapter is more serious in parts, but we get to see an evolving Effie and an evoling Effie/Matthew dynamic.  Enjoy!

                                                           *     *     *     *     *

Effie.  Her name was Effie.  And everybody knew it.  

Rachel was no more.  Rachel was a thing of the past and she was going to stay there.  Rachel was a person who had been hurt and abused.  Rachel was named by an abusive, violent, cruel, despicable tyrant who called himself Abraham and proclaimed he was a prophet.  Rachel was a girl with no voice, no agency, nothing to call her own.  Rachel was a girl who belonged to someone.

Effie was new.  Effie was her chosen name and a thing of the future.  Effie was a person learning to come to terms with her trauma after years of hurt and abuse.  Effie was name by herself, for herself, to reclaim her identity after years of it being denied to her.  Effie was a girl with a voice, agency, and even though she could only count a few things as her own, they were just that – her own.  Effie was a girl who belonged to nobody but herself.  

That was how she liked it.  

Naming herself instilled a new sense of confidence within her.  It was small, and it was gradual, but the people around her could notice it.  Matthew knew he could.  She was more assertive…in her own way.  She didn’t ask “Can I ask you a question?” before asking questions anymore.  She just asked.  She was proud of her learning and was getting used to showing it off.  Her independence increased.  She’d walk to Starbucks to get her strawberry frappucinos instead of having Jenna drive her.  She engaged in more conversation.  She made jokes.  She laughed at jokes.  She went grocery shopping with Jenna and said “I want to buy corn dogs” so she and Jenna bought corn dogs and they had them for dinner one night.  She went to Levi and said “I want to get a phone so I can text Annica” and so he gave her an old iPhone he had in the house.  She asked Annica more about makeup, even though she was still a bit apprehensive about using it.  She asked Geneviève about words she’d read and wanted to know more about.  Feminism (that was the best word she learned, Effie thought.  She was a feminist).  Socialism.  Communism.  Democracy.  Geneviève explained them all to her.  She asked Geneviève about pants.

She wore pants.

It was weird at first, wearing pants.  She’d only ever worn skirts and dresses, even in the privacy of her own home when she was in the cult.  The prophet demanded it; women were not allowed to wear pants.  So when Jenna encouraged her to try on an old pair of jeans that she had, Effie did.  They were big – Effie was still, well, small, and gaining weight every day – but Effie liked them.  “Can I buy a pair of jeans?” she asked Jenna.  Jenna promised to take her shopping at the mall on the weekend.  It would be Effie’s first time in a mall. 

Effie wanted to be fearless, but there was still a lot of fear in her.  Everything was so new, and so big, and sometimes so complicated, and she wished things were easier but she knew they couldn’t be.  But instead of before, when she would let the fear overcome her, she embraced it instead.  She worked through it.  She did things in spite of the fear.  She did things because she didn’t want the fear in her anymore.

That’s why she found herself walking now.  Walking to Starbucks.  Well, not to Starbucks exactly, but to the complex that held the Starbucks and a bunch of other stores.  Effie had noticed one particular one a few storefronts down and had taken mental note of it for when she was ready for it.  And now, walking with purpose through Aspen Woods, clutching something very important in the pocket of her jacket, she was ready.  

“Chop it all off.”

“What?!” the hairdresser shrieked as she looked at Effie through the mirror, after putting a robe around her and running her hands through her long blonde hair.  “But your hair!  It’s healthy and it’s long and luscious and—and it would be a disservice if I chopped it all off!”

“Please.  I need you to cut it.  I need you to—”

“This is the greatest head of hair I’ve ever seen—”

“You don’t understand,” Effie interrupted.  “I escaped a cult.  I escaped The People’s Dominion of Christ.  This hair was never mine; it was always someone else’s.  I need you to cut it off so that it’s mine, so that something on my body is mine for once in my life.”

The hairdresser looked at Effie through the mirror, blinking a few times as she realized what Effie was saying.  Without saying another word, she reached over to her station and grabbed her scissors.  “How much do you want off?” she asked.

Effie unfolded the picture from one of Jenna’s old magazines that she had crumpled in her hand, showing the stylist.  “Like this,” she said.  “I don’t even want it touching my shoulders.”

The hairdresser nodded, placing the picture face up at her station so Effie could look at it as the hairdresser did her magic.  She took one last look at it before tying an elastic loosely around the hair.  “Ready?” she asked, gripping it.

Effie nodded firmly.  “Ready.”

***

Effie had six numbers stored on her phone.  Levi.  Jenna.  Annica.  Geneviève.  Jacob Markstrom.  Matthew Tkachuk.  

“Hello?” he asked as he picked up his phone.  

His voice was a welcome sound to Effie, who was nervous but excited as she looked at herself in the mirror.  “Matthew?  I’m—I’m sorry to bother you, but can you come pick me up?”

“I—yeah—is everything okay?” his voice sounded immediately worried.  “Where are you?”

Effie didn’t even know.  She covered the receiver with her hand and turned towards the hairstylist.  “What’s the address?”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13.”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13,” she repeated into the phone.

Matthew was officially confused.  “The Starbucks complex?”

“Yes…but a few stores down,” Effie informed him.

“I’ll be there in like, five minutes.”

***

Matthew was nervous.  Effie hadn’t sounded nervous on the phone, but he was still nervous.  It was out of the ordinary for her to call him to pick her up from anywhere, let alone from a place where she knew how to get home from now that she took the initiative to walk most places she wanted to go.  It wasn’t like he was going to deny her – he was speeding through the streets, if he was being completely honest – but the thoughts in his mind were running a mile a minute, and he had no clue what to expect.  

When he pulled into the complex, he searched for unit 13 and parked right in front of it.  It was only when he turned off his car that he actually saw the name of the store he’d parked in front of.  Abigail’s Hair Salon.

Matthew walked in.

He stopped dead in his tracks.  In front of him, Effie stood sheepishly, her long, flowing blonde hair chopped off almost completely, and in its place, a chic blonde bob, perfectly styled and perfectly her.  She had a t-shirt, baggy skinny jeans, and old Doc Martens on – no doubt all borrowed from Jenna – and she looked like a vision.  He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face.  “Effie,” he said her name bashfully, breathlessly, because it was so much to take in and she just looked so…cute.  

“Does it look nice?” she asked, patting it down at the sides.  

“It looks great, Effie,” Matthew said, and she could tell he meant it sincerely.  He bit his bottom lip before continuing his line of questioning, even though all he wanted to do was look at her.  “You wanted it this short?”

Effie nodded her head.  

“It suits you,” he nodded.  “Did you pay?”  Effie nodded her head.  “Did you tip?”

Effie looked scared for a moment.  “Tip?”

Matthew automatically took out his wallet and pulled a $50 from inside, giving it to the hairstylist.  He turned to Effie without another word.  “Wanna grab some lunch?”

“You—you’re not busy?  I thought you would just drive me home.”

“Let’s grab lunch,” he said casually, like it was no big deal.  “Grab your jacket.  What do you feel like eating?”

***

Matthew watched Effie for most of the meal, if he was being honest.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her regardless of how hard he tried.  But he kept any emotions or any feelings at bay, kicking himself for anything he was feeling that was…questionable.  He didn’t want to be that guy.  He didn’t want to make things more complicated for her when she was already learning so much, when the world was already a complicated place for her and she was trying to find her place in it.  

“What team does your brother play for?” Effie asked, picking at her plate left with all her fries.  She ate her bacon cheeseburger first and devoured it in less than ten minutes.  For Matthew, it was impressive.  He knew she was trying to gain weight.  He shuddered to think what she looked like a year ago.  

“The Ottawa Senators,” he replied.

“In the capital city,” she said, and Matthew nodded his head.  “You must be very thankful that he’s in Canada with you.  What about your sister?”

“She plays field hockey at the University of Virginia.”

Matthew watched as Effie furrowed her brows.  “She can play sports and go to university?  That’s a thing?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Matthew smiled, chuckling slightly.  “She’s a great field hockey player.  She committed to the school when she was a junior – when she was sixteen – and now she’s finally on campus.  She’s going to school too, obviously.  That’s the most important thing.  But she’s also playing Division 1 field hockey.”

Effie nodded her head, considering all the things Matthew had just said.  Women could go to university – she knew that now thanks to Jenna and Geneviève.  But…women could play sports and go to university?  Women could play sports for their university?  That was new information.  Effie thought about girls playing hockey and whether or not they could do the same thing.  She thought to Levi watching Toronto Raptors games at home and wondering if women could do the same thing with basketball.  She had not been allowed to play sports.  Anything more than running, women were not allowed to do.  Taryn had been sixteen and had committed to play field hockey for a university.  When Effie was sixteen, she was definitely not doing that.  “Your sister is very lucky,” she said softly.  “To be able to do that.  She’s very lucky.”

Matthew knew there was weight behind those words.  They weren’t to be taken lightly.  He could only imagine what Effie was up to when she was sixteen years old as opposed to Taryn.  “She knows,” Matthew said.  “Taryn’s a really smart girl.  She knows she’s really lucky.”

“It’s kind of nice how in the normal world, women can go to university, and get an education, and play sports, and do whatever they want, and wait to have their children,” Effie said.

Matthew shrugged.  “If they even want kids at all.  I know some of my friends back home don’t want them.  Nobody says women have to have them,” he said it like a throwaway comment, looking down at his plate to grab a fry and dip it in some ketchup.

Silence.  Pure silence from Effie.  He stuck his fry in his mouth and noticed how quiet it got and he looked up with half the fry in his mouth and half the fry still between his fingers, like a dumbass, only to see Effie staring at him with a blank look on her face.  When he looked closer, he saw her eyes were glossy.  He gulped.  “Wh…What do you mean that women don’t have to have children?” she asked.

Matthew chose his words carefully.  He should have known.  He should have fucking known, but he just had to go open his big mouth.  Now, he realized the words he was about to say would change Effie’s perception of things dramatically.  The last thing he intended was for the conversation to swerve in a direction like this, but they were here now, and he had to live with it.  Own up to his actions.  Be the person he promised himself he would be around her.  “So, like…women in modern society have the choice.  They can choose not to have children.  Some women don’t want to become mothers.  It’s a personal choice.  And nowadays, women don’t feel as pressured to have families.  Like, maybe they want to pursue a career instead, but it’s not even that.  You can just…not want children.”

Effie had heard the word of God her entire life.  It was the first thing she remembered; it was her earliest memory.  Some days – on bad days – it was her only memory, the thing that haunted her most at night, and she’d toss and turn in her bed to try and get the rolls and rolls of scripture out of her head.  Be fruitful and multiply.  Be fruitful and multiply.  Be fruitful and multiply.  But this – what Matthew was telling her – this was not the word of God.  This was something else.  This went against everything she knew.  This went against everything she was brought up to believe.  “Oh, okay,” she whispered.  

Matthew could tell he had just said something to Effie that rocked her foundation.  And then he thought to himself ‘Of course this would be happening.  Everything is new for her.’   The modern world was completely alien to her.  She didn’t know anything.  No women’s liberation.  No women’s rights.  No individuality.  Voting.  Elections.  Doctors.  Hospitals.  Jeans.  T-shirts.  Wearing her hair however she wanted.  Makeup.  Cell phones.  Instagram.  Twitter.  Snapchat.  Hockey – literally the most unimportant thing at this point.  She was learning, and making great progress, but things like this – these big ideas – still shook her to her core.  They went against everything she knew and everything she was brought up to believe.  It wasn’t easy for any person to have their foundation cracked; Matthew knew it would be even harder for her.

“Can you excuse me for a second?” Effie said suddenly, not bothering to hear an answer from Matthew before she pushed her chair back and stood up from the table, escaping back into the restaurant.  

Matthew felt like there was cement in his feet as he replayed the moment over and over in his mind, the sight of Effie’s glossy eyes realizing children were optional in the real world burning itself into his mind forever.  God, to find out this way – over bacon cheeseburgers at some restaurant and not in a safe space where she felt comfortable.  To have it be him, a man, that told her this instead of someone like Jenna, or Geneviève, who had been teaching her everything.  He was an idiot.  He was such an idiot.

A jolt of electricity struck through his body and finally jolted him out of his seat, his legs making him run towards the back of the restaurant near the washrooms where he knew Effie went.  “Effie?  Effie?” he called out as he opened the door to the women’s washroom.

When he stepped inside, he saw Effie huddled in a heap on the floor, her knees to her chest as tears flowed down her face.  Her skin was red and blotchy and he could see her chest heaving up and down.  “Effie—” he bent down to be at eye level with her.

“I need you to take me home.”

“Effie—” he reached out to touch her.

The second – the millisecond, the nanosecond – that Effie felt his touch for the first time, her entire body flinched so violently away from him that it scared him.  Matthew recoiled his hand quickly as his breath caught in his throat.  “I’m sorry—I’msosorry—I’m so sorry—” he stuttered out.  

She was silent as she looked at him for a moment through her tears.  There was a look of pure fear in her eyes that Matthew hadn’t seen before, not even the first time he met her at Noah’s birthday at the steakhouse.  “What if women can’t have children?” she asked, her voice so small and frail that it broke Matthew’s heart.

He struggled to find the words because it was such a simple concept for him but such a complicated one for her.  “That’s…that’s not their fault,” he said calmly, but the tone of obviousness was still apparent.  

“What do you mean it’s not their fault?” Effie’s tone was incredulous, like a seven-year-old child learning prematurely that there was no Santa Claus.

“It’s not their fault, Effie,” he reiterated, not knowing how else to explain it.  “I…it’s not their fault.  It can be a medical thing.  I mean most of the time it is, if they can’t have children.  And it’s not their fault,” he just kept repeating it.

“What if…what if women don’t want to have children, but can?  Are…are they punished?” she asked.

“Why would they be punished?  No,” he shook his head.

“Matthew…” she was apprehensive.  “Are you telling the truth?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you Effie,” he said softly, wanting so desperately to just reach out and touch her, hug her, but knowing that if he did, he’d just inflict more fear in her.  “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s the truth.  Some women can’t have children, and some of them don’t want children, and both of those things are perfectly okay.”  He watched as the tears streamed down her face as she stared him in the eye.  Shaking.  

Then it finally hit him like a ton of bricks.  

“Effie…” he said uneasily.

“There were seven.”

The words hung in the air for an unknown amount of time.  It could have been years for all Matthew knew.  But as he stared into Effie’s eyes, he felt an incredible pain in his heart; a pain reserved only for her, that only she could give him.  He thought of how she kept all her own pain inside her constantly, how the trauma was a part of her just as her hair, her fingers, her toes were.  She carried this with her every single day.  Every.  Single.  Day.

“It’s not your fault, Effie,” he whispered.  He knew better than to try to reach out and touch her again.  So he settled on words, because words were his best option.  “It’s not your fault.”

***

“Did you really think you’d be able to come to a therapist’s office and think you’d be able to discuss a patient?”

Matthew stared at Dr. Jessica Barlow sitting across from him – her seated on her plush chair, him sitting on the couch he was sure all her patients sat on – and he didn’t really appreciate her tone of voice.  So maybe it wasn’t the most flawless plan.  Maybe there were holes.  But he was there, damnit, and there for a good reason.  The best reason.  She was the best psychotherapist that specialized in cults in Alberta – probably in western Canada, judging by how many degrees and certificates and awards she had displayed in her office.  She was the best and most qualified person to help Effie, surely, which is why Effie met with her three times a week.  That meant she was also the best and most qualified person to help Matthew.

“Maybe,” he mumbled out.  Matthew would have been intimidated, but for some reason, he wasn’t.  Even considering they were alone in her office, even considering he’d never met or been to a therapist before, he wasn’t nervous or intimidated.  He was determined.  “I need you tell me what I need to do.  Tell me.  Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“For who?”

“Effie Schaffer.”

Dr. Barlow looked incredulous, like a mix between seeing a ghost and not believing the words that were coming out of Matthew’s mouth.  But then he watched as her face softened slightly, and turn inquisitive instead of suspicious.  “You’re Matthew,” she said, framing it as a statement more than a question.

He knew what that meant.  “Effie’s told you about me?” he asked.

It was a lost cause – he knew that the second the question left his lips, because he knew Dr. Barlow wouldn’t tell him a word.  Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.  If dentists couldn’t even talk about their patients, there was no way in hell a psychotherapist who worked with cult survivors would say a peep about anything.  “Effie’s opened up to you quite a bit, hasn’t she?”

Matthew leaned in.  “Yes.  That’s why I need you to help me.  I want – I need to know how to help her.”

“Matthew,” Dr. Barlow took off her glasses.  “First you need to tell me why you want to do this,” she said matter-of-factly.  

Matthew didn’t want this to become a session.  It wasn’t about him; it was about Effie.  “I’ve just become her friend, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately, and—and I just want to know what I can do to help her get even better.”

“Because you’re her friend.”

“Yes.”

“Because you care about her.”

“Well, yes.  I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about her in any capacity.”

Dr. Barlow paused.  “It’s not that simple, Mr. Tkachuk—”

“Why not?” he asked, interrupting her.  “She’s leaps and bounds better than when she escaped!  At least according to her brother!” he defended himself.  “Listen, I know it hasn’t been a long time that I’ve known her but I – damnit, I can help her.  I can help her but I don’t want to hurt her – I never want that to happen ever again, even if it’s by accident, and you need to tell me.  You need to tell me how I can do that so I can actually do it.”

Dr. Barlow stayed silent.  “You’ve already been incredibly patient with her,” she chose her words wisely.  Matthew could read between the lines.  So maybe Effie spoke about him more than he initially thought.  “We should just leave it at that.  I appreciate the effort, but—"

“She told me how there were seven,” he said, his voice steady and calm but firm and resolute.  When he looked up at Dr. Barlow, she was staring back at him with a stoic yet shocked look on her face.  “She told me there were seven, and when I tried to—to console her, to touch her, the way her body jumped away from mine…I…” he trailed off.  He rubbed his fingers against his lips nervously.

“So then you know and realize that Effie was a member of a religious cult where she was routinely raped by its leader so he could impregnate her with the son of God for almost five years.”

It was the first time the word had been said out loud.  He didn’t want to repeat it.  He wanted it burned from his memory, from Effie’s memory, from the dictionary, everywhere.  He knew it happened but he didn’t want to admit it to himself.  Saying the word out loud made it different; it made it real.  It made him acutely aware of the trauma Effie had been through, and how she didn’t deserve any of it, yet she was burdened with it for the rest of her life.  He was biting down on his bottom lip so hard he thought he’d draw blood.  “Yes,” he said curtly.  “I realize.”

“I know how close – relatively – you and Effie have gotten ever since you were introduced.  Her progress has increased dramatically since it,” Dr. Barlow began, again choosing her words wisely.  “I know everything you two talk about on your Starbucks dates.  I know you introduced her to candy and watched Little Women with her.  Matthew – I’m not telling you this because I’m making some point that Effie tattles and tells me everything about her relationship with you.  I’m telling you this because you’ve already been doing what you need to do.  You didn’t need to come here and ask me for specifics.”

“But I don’t want to hurt her,” Matthew said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “What happened that day when she told me and when—when I tried to touch her…”

“It might take a while for her body not to seize up anytime a man touches her,” Dr. Barlow said.  “That doesn’t mean she’s not making progress.  It’s the mental progress we want to see.  And it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong, either.  Just give her time, Matthew.  Exercise patience with her.”

***

The next time Matthew saw Effie, she didn’t know he was coming.  But he called Levi and made sure it was okay, and so when he descended down the stairs into the basement and saw Effie’s bedroom door opened, he took a deep breath.  He collected himself.  And he moved forward.  He knew he didn’t have to do this – any outsider would have said that – but he knew he needed to do it.  He needed to make it right.

“Effie?” he knocked lightly on her door before stepping into the door frame, finding her sitting at her desk reading something.  

She turned her head to look at him and a smile appeared on her face.  It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders to see her smiling.  He didn’t exactly think she’d be cradled in a corner crying, but he did think that maybe she wouldn’t be happy to see him.  It was a relief.  “Hi Matthew.”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Of course,” she nodded, pushing her desk chair out as he walked in slowly.  “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been okay…” he said, biting down on his bottom lip nervously.  “How—I mean, have you been okay since that day?”

He saw something flash behind her eyes – a memory of the tears, the feeling, the questions.  He knew he relived it every other minute since it happened because he felt so guilty about it.  He wondered if Effie relived it every moment too and whether or not it brought her constant pain.  Matthew would never forgive himself if it did.  “I’ve been good.  Learned a lot, as you can imagine,” she joked slightly.  “I read up on what we talked about.  Geneviève helped me.”

“So you know it’s a thing now.”

Effie nodded.  “It made me realize I never want children.”

Matthew should have been shocked by that statement, but he wasn’t.  Knowing what Effie had been through, he understood why she wouldn’t want them.  It was her choice to make and hers only, and nobody could or should influence her otherwise.  “That’s good.  Good that you can…you know, say that out loud.  That you’re not forced into something you don’t want anymore.”

Effie nodded her head.  “I knew it all along.  I mean, children are a blessing, but they’re not for me.  And knowing the way I was brought up, with abuse and no loving parenting from my parents or from anyone around me, I don’t want to pass that legacy on.  I’m too scared to fall back into that.  I’d have no idea how to raise a child.  I know that now,” she said, watching as Matthew walked further into the room and lean back slightly on her desk.  She looked up at him.  There was a moment of silence between them as they were just there, staring at each other in her bedroom.  Effie tried not to get lost in his blue eyes.  She wondered if he could see past her calm exterior.  “I’m sorry that I flinched away from you that day,” she said quietly.  

“I should be the one apologizing—”

“No,” she said as sternly as she could, getting him to stop.  “You don’t have to apologize for anything.  You didn’t hurt me that day, so don’t think you did.  I just…I get apprehensive about touch, because we weren’t allowed to, and because once I finally was, it wasn’t…nice,” she revealed, knowing he’d get the point.  “But I know that your touch is nice.”

“How do you know?” Matthew asked.

“Because you’re a nice person.”

She took it upon herself to look at his hands.  They were on either side of his body, gripping her desk just in case it collapsed under his weight or something – who knows.  But they were there, exposed, for her to look at.  They were big – bigger than Abraham’s – and younger, of course, rougher around the edges due to hockey but still better than the only other pair of hands she’d had experience with.

He caught her looking.  Slowly, almost painstakingly slowly, he brought his right hand up and opened it, palm facing her, fingers pointing up towards the sky.  He watched as Effie brought her hand up too, even slower than he had, opening it up and facing her palm towards his.  There were a few moments where she was stagnant, thinking about how this was the first time she was going to touch a man other than her predator fake husband or her brother.  Then she moved her hand closer.  Closer.  Closer.

When she finally touched Matthew – when she finally touched him – a million electric bolts ran through her body.  The feeling of his skin on hers, his delicate yet rough touch as she pressed her small hand into his large one so she could feel his entire hand on her hand – it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.  The simplest action gave her the most surreal feeling.  There were no words for it.  No words, in fact, because all she could do was smile.  A big, wide smile, spanning from ear to ear as she kept her hand against his.

Matthew smiled too.  

***

“This was a very quick progression from ‘Can women get tattoos?’ to ‘I’m getting a tattoo’, you know,” Geneviève laughed as she and Annica watched Effie take a seat in the tattooist’s chair.  The tattoo artist, a young woman with sleeves of her own, was preparing everything appropriately as the women chatted.  “The turnover rate was, what, a week?”

“Less,” Annica giggled.  

“When I went to the orthodontist’s when I was ten, I saw a man there with his entire arm covered in tattoos.  I was so scared I started crying.  I asked the prophet about it when I got back to Sheerness and he said they were marks of sinners and that the devil influenced them,” Effie laughed along with them.  “But I see them on people at Starbucks all the time.  I think they look really nice.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you want what you’ve requested?  You’re not gonna regret it, right?” Annica wanted to make sure Effie was making the right decision.

Effie nodded her head emphatically.  “Definitely.  Definitely.”

“What is it?  Can we see it?” Geneviève asked.  

Effie shook her head.  “I want it to be a surprise,” she said, biting her lip.  “You guys don’t think I’m crazy, do you?  Doing this to my body?”

“Absolutely not,” Geneviève replied automatically, her tone telling Effie that the notion was absurd.  It was nice for Effie to know that the two women in front of her would never judge her.  It was nice to know a woman could be supported in her decisions, and not be told it would make God angry and that she was sinning and going against the prophet.  “It’s your body, remember?  Your body, your choice.”

Effie nodded after a moment.  “My body, my choice.”

***

“It’s still a bit red and itchy.  Annica said I need to put an elastic around my wrist and snap it whenever I want to itch it,” Effie said, her voice filled with excitement but a certain anxiousness that was characteristic to her.  

“It’s alright.  Just show me,” Matthew smiled as he watched her roll up the sleeve of her cardigan.  When she finally did, and stretched out her arm, Matthew’s mouth gaped open.  “It’s huge!” he exclaimed, definitely not expecting it to be that big.  He thought Effie would get a dainty tattoo; something small.  He didn’t exactly think she’d have a “go big or go home” attitude about a tattoo – something on her body forever.  But it was big.  It took up at least two-thirds of her forearm.  The linework and shading were impeccable; the detail exquisite.  It was made up of flowers – he didn’t know what kind – but they were big and small, all sizes really, and there were a few leaves, a few stems, and it just looked so beautiful.  He brought his hand up to touch, but stopped himself.  “Can I?” he asked.

Effie nodded.  “You can touch me,” she said, preparing herself.

Matthew brought his hand up slowly.  He touched her arm, grazing his fingertips over the linework delicately.  It was still bumpy, a testament to how new it was.  “It looks amazing, Effie,” he whispered, his fingers still grazing delicately.  

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

“The best part?” he arched his eyebrow.  What could be better than this?

She turned her arm over, palm facing up, where another large flower was tattooed on her skin.  Matthew noticed some handwriting along the flower, and he leaned his head down to read it.  ‘I am mine before I am anyone else’s’.

Matthew smiled from ear to ear.  “Effie,” he whispered bashfully, just like he had when he saw that she cut her hair short for the first time.  He was so bashful because he was so happy to be seeing her making her own decisions for once in her life.  “Do you love it?” he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically.  “I love it so much.  It’s mine.  It’s mine.”

***

“Did Jenna make these?” Matthew asked Levi once he was done with his stretches, noticing a giant Tupperware filled with some sort of cookies.  Matthew had seen some of the other guys in the locker room with them and decided to investigate.  He took a massive bite of one and his entire mouth watered.  In that short moment, he was sure he’d never had a cookie so good in his life.  “These are phenomenal,” he said with a full mouth.

“Nah, Jenna’s not a baker,” Levi shook his head.  “Effie made those.”

Matthew’s brows rose.  He gulped the bite of the cookie down.  “Effie?  Effie bakes?”

Levi smirked, side-eyeing him.  “Effie knows how to make and churn butter from scratch.  She had to learn in the cult.  She knows how to bake and cook a lot of things because she had to be a traditional wife.  But she enjoys baking the most.  Baking is what brings her the most joy, so she’s started baking again.”

Matthew nodded nonchalantly.  “She can bake all kinds of stuff then?”

“Bread, sweet stuff…yeah, pretty much,” he said.  “She actually…well, she’s trying to find a job where she can put it to good use, since she actually likes doing it.”

“Effie’s getting a job?!” Matthew exclaimed, louder than he intended.  Levi could only chuckle.  Matthew felt the need to cover.  “Where?  What—where?  What’s she gonna do?  How is she—I mean, why?”

“She’s gotta support herself, doesn’t she?  If she wants to move out, or earn her own money—”

“Effie’s moving out?!”

“She’s not moving out tomorrow, Matthew, but she’s going to be moving out soon.”

This was all news to Matthew, of course.  He tried to play it cool, calming himself down and not making a big deal out of it – well, more than he already had.  The fact that Levi, Jenna, and Effie were discussing jobs and moving out had absolutely nothing to do with him.  He was just on the outside.  He didn’t need to be part of the decision making at all…at all.  But he still got nervous.  Effie was still learning about a lot.  And ultimately, at the end of the day, he wanted her to be safe.  A safe job.  A safe apartment.  “Where’s she looking?”

“There’s a cute little hipster coffee shop in the downtown core she has an interview with,” Levi informed him.  “If she gets the job, and if she enrols in the online business certificate program Geneviève recommended to her, I promised to pay three months worth of rent until she can pay it on her own.  She’d earn enough from minimum wage and tips for sure, especially downtown.”

Hipster coffee shop.  Online business certificate.  New apartment.  There was so much new information coming at Matthew that he didn’t know how to process it all.  He was happy for Effie – he was – and he wished her only the best, but it was still a lot.  “Well…when you need help moving, call me and we could put these muscles to work,” he said, flexing his arm for dramatic effect, trying to hide the fact that he so obviously cared, and miserably failing to hide that fact to Levi.

Levi let out a haughty laugh.  “I’ll be sure to mention it.”

***

Matthew downed a shot of tequila – the good tequila – and smashed his shot glass down on the bar as the smooth liquid coated his throat and made his stomach burn.  Noah let out a loud ‘Wooooo!’ and Sean, ever the dumbass, choked on it as it went down.  Matthew almost spit up the shot out of laughter watching Sean struggle to swallow it, picking up his glass of whisky the bartender had just poured.  “You’re already wrecked, buddy,” Matthew chastised him as he got control of his coughs.  “You’re embarrassing.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sean sneered.  “We all know you’re trying to get all your alcohol in before Effie gets here.”

Matthew chuckled.  “Fat chance of that happening.  Effie’s not coming.”

Sean rolled his eyes.  “Well, either I’m high or you’re wrong, because she just walked in the door.”

Matthew’s back stiffened as he whipped his head around to look through the crowd of people.  Sure enough, he could see Effie raising her hand to chest level so the bouncer at the door could stamp her hand.  Noah made a noise that sounded like a seagull and Sean let out a chuckle and a muffled “Dude owes me a fucking drink for that one”.  Before Matthew’s legs could move him forward, he noticed Meredith approach Effie; she hugged her and Effie allowed Meredith to grab her hand so she could guide her through the crowd and into their spot at the back of the lounge.  The music was loud and the floor felt like it was vibrating but it was nothing compared to the beat of Matthew’s heart.

Fuck.

When Meredith and Effie finally made their way through, he saw that Effie was wearing Jenna’s ballet flats, skinny jeans that were still a bit big, and a sequined top that fit so big any other girls in the club would have probably worn it as a dress.  He could feel the whisky burning his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

“Effiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!!!!!” Claudia squealed once she noticed her, sauntering over to her in her high heels and bending down to hug her.  “You made it!  I’m sooooo happy!” she continued squealing.  Matthew wondered if Effie noticed that Claudia was already drunk.  “Is this your first time in a place like this?”

“Yeah,” Effie nodded her head nervously.  “I’m sorry—I—I know I wasn’t supposed to be here and I said no, but—”

“Are you kidding?  The more the merrier!  Let me take you to Andrew so you can say happy birthday!”

Matthew watched as Claudia led her to Andrew, tapping him on the shoulder to reveal Effie.  Andrew was happy to see her, and – knowing better than to go in for a hug – politely held his hand against his heart when she wished him a happy birthday.  None of the guys on the team had ever touched her – well, except Matthew.  He seemed to be the exception to a lot of things regarding Effie, and he was proud of that.  He didn’t want anyone else touching her, even if they were his teammates.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

“You came alone?” Andrew asked her.  Effie nodded.  “We’ll have to find you Matthew then.  He’d kill us if we didn’t tell him you were here.”

Matthew didn’t know what Andrew was saying – the music was too loud, and he couldn’t read lips – but the cement in his legs finally dissolved and he found himself walking over to them, wanting to make his presence known at that very moment.  When Effie saw him, he could swear her face lit up.  “Fancy seeing you here, Effie,” he smiled, holding his glass of whisky near his chest.

She went in for a hug.

Matthew was so shocked he almost didn’t hug her back.  Even Andrew was looking at them like he’d just seen a monkey perform a magic trick.  Matthew draped both arms around her and hugged her back, making sure not to spill his whisky all over her.  He tried not to let it seem like he was shocked – hugs should be a normal thing for Effie, he thought – so when she pulled away, he was already smiling down at her.  “What brought you here?”

“I wanted to see what these places are like,” she said when she pulled away.  She took a look down at his drink.  “Is that iced tea?”

“Whiskey.”

She looked around at everyone else, noticing they were all holding glasses with drinks in them too.  “Is everybody drinking alcohol?”

“Pretty much,” Matthew giggled out.

“I’ve never drunk alcohol before,” she revealed.

“Do you want to try some?”

“No,” she shook her head.  “I’m not ready.”

“That’s okay.  Do you want something to drink, then?  Some water?  I’m sure the bar can make you a virgin drink if you ask for it.”

“A virgin drink?”

“Virgin means no alcohol,” Matthew covered quickly.  “They’ll make you whatever you want.”

Matthew watched as Effie considered it, looking over to the bar before she shook her head.  “I’m not thirsty yet.  I’ll go when I’m thirsty.”

***

Effie didn’t dance.  She didn’t drink.  All she did was look.

By looking, she was learning.  She watched how people interacted with one another in this type of setting and she internalized it.  She watched girls approach the bar and get served by the bartender.  She watched as guys flirted with them and bought them drinks.  She watched people take shots and then ask for another.  She watched people get handsy, with touches on hips and lower backs and arms the most popular spots she saw men putting their hands on women.  She watched people drag one another towards the dance floor.  She watched kisses being placed on necks and shoulders and lips, tongues dragging across, shocked that people would be doing so out in the open.  She watched girls raise their drinks in the air and kick their leg up as they posed for photos with their friends.  She watched girls move their hips seductively.  She watched guys getting their bodies as close to them as possible.  

“What are they doing?” she asked Matthew as she watched them dancing like a hawk.

“Uh…it’s called grinding.”

She’d talk, and ask questions, and Matthew was beside her the entire time answering her questions and milking his whisky, not caring that he wasn’t partying with Andrew or with the other boys, because when Effie was around, he was all about Effie – nobody else mattered.  He’d stay with her until last call if she wanted to stay that late.  He’d already resolved that he’d be going home when she was going home because he needed to make sure she got back to Aspen Woods safe, and also because there was no reason to be at the club when Effie was gone.

Did he hear himself?  Did he really just say there was no reason to be at a club full of beautiful girls during his friend’s birthday?

Fuck.  

Noah, Sean, and Johnny ended up coming back to the booth for some water.  Johnny made eyes at Matthew and Matthew subtly gave him the finger; Effie didn’t notice because she was looking over at the bar.  “I’m thirsty.  I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Let me go for y—”

“No,” she said sternly as Matthew was about to get up, standing up herself and holding her hand out.  “I’ve watched.  I know what I need to do.  I can go.”

Matthew gulped.  He didn’t want to deny her independence but he didn’t want her to go alone. “Are you sure?” he asked.  She nodded, and Matthew had to let her go.  And all he did was look.

***

Effie approached the bar slowly, trying not to get shoved around by people crowding around the bar.  It was much busier actually being in the crowd than just looking at it, and Effie was almost regretting her decision.  She’s never been in a place with so many people.  Well, that was a lie, maybe – church was always busy, obviously, especially the church for the People’s Dominion.  Sundays were the worst.  But there were definitely not this many young people congregated in one place.  Effie knew this is what young people did in the normal world – Geneviève told her so.  It was one thing to know about it, to be apart from it in a different area and watch; it was something completely different, actually being in it.  

She made her way to right behind a few people at the bar – some scantily clad girls with some really pretty dresses on.  Effie admired their beauty.  They had beautiful long eyelashes and their lips were red and berry-coloured.  Their skin was flawless and tanned – weird for April in Calgary, but tanned nonetheless.  Effie wondered if they were wearing makeup, and wondered whether or not she’d ever wear makeup herself.  When they got their drinks, they began to move.  One of them noticed Effie behind them and gave her a quick up-down.  “Take our place, sweetie,” she said, letting Effie move into their place before she watched them make their way through the crowd and back onto the dance floor.

After watching, she knew now she had to get the attention of one of the bartenders.  Every single one of them was busy pouring drinks.  She watched as a couple of men on the opposite end of the bar raised their hands and the bartenders went over to them, so she decided to do the same.  After a few minutes, a bartender came.  “What can I get you?”

“Um, water please.”

“You driving tonight, darling?”

Effie shook her head.  “I don’t drive.  I just don’t drink alcohol.”

“Do you want anything more exciting?  I mean I can at least get you ginger ale or a coke.”

Effie didn’t like coke – she thought it was too sweet – but when he mentioned ginger ale, she reconsidered.  “Okay.  Ginger ale is good.”

The bartender nodded, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice before getting the drink gun.  “Do you have a tab going?”

What was a tab?  Effie shook her head.  “What’s a tab?”

The bartender looked at her skeptically.  “How are you paying, darling?  Are you with a party?”

“Oh!  I’m here for Andrew’s party!  Andrew Mangiapane.”

“Got it,” the bartender winked.  “Here you go, darling.  Enjoy.”

Effie grabbed the drink and took a sip out of the straw.  It was nice and cold, just the way she liked it.  Just as she was about to leave and go back to Matthew, a big body slipped into the empty space beside her.  A man – a very large man, it seemed, though she was so small that every man looked large to her – took up all the space.  He was looking down at her with a very, very amused expression on his face.  “Ginger ale, girl?” he mocked her.

Effie couldn’t tell.  “What’s wrong with ginger ale?”

“You’re gonna come out to a bar looking like a walking felon and order ginger ale?” he pressed, winking at her.

“A walking felon?” she repeating.  She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said.  “A real drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Wanna start?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“That’s fine.  I can think of better things we can get up to than drinking, anyways,” he smiled.

Effie furrowed her brows.  “Like what?”

The guy smiled, and it was creepy, and she finally saw behind his eyes every thought and every intention he currently had.  “Let me show you,” he said, and Effie saw, out of the corner of her eye, that he was bringing his hand up to touch her.  At the same time, he was leaning his head down.

“HEY!” a loud voice boomed, and Effie immediately recognized it as Matthew’s.  Before she could even see him or realize where he was coming from, he squeezed his way in between him and the man.  Matthew’s hands were now on her body instead, the man’s hand nowhere near her.  “Get the fuck out of here, buddy.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You touch her one more time and you’re fucking dead,” Matthew growled.

“Dead, eh?  So you get to touch her but I don’t?”

“Fuck off.”

Effie was taken aback by the anger in Matthew’s voice.  She’d never seen or heard him so angry.  She knew he was capable of it, by how he played hockey, but she didn’t think he’d be able to get this angry in a social setting.  Her body tensed up.  “Can we go back to our booth?” Effie asked loudly, placing her hand on Matthew’s, hoping to get his attention.  

Matthew looked back at her quickly, and when he saw the trepidation on her face, he immediately listened to her.  As he turned to leave, pushing Effie ahead of him with his hands still on her waist guiding her, he heard the man make one last call out to Effie.  “You don’t want to have some fun, girl?  I can show you a better time than this dick with my dick!”

Matthew had had it.  He knew he couldn’t punch out a guy in a bar.  He knew he couldn’t do much without causing a scene and the cops getting called and everything getting out of hand.  So instead, he used everything at his disposal to make his point, the most important thing being his size.  He turned around and flexed, standing up straight and making himself as physically big as possible, bumping up against the guy on the chest and backing him up against the bar.  He had only a few inches on the guy, but he was suddenly intimidated.  “You even so much as breathe in her general direction and I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth down your throat,” Matthew growled, making fists with his hands.  He didn’t even wait for the guy to say anything.  Instead, he just turned and walked away, noticing Effie waiting for him in the crowd.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, leading her out of the crowd and back to the booth.

“Are you sure, Matthew?”

“Positive,” he mumbled as they finally got to the booth.

Effie turned around to get a good look at him.  She knew he was lying because she could see how angry he was on his face.  She got nervous – really nervous.  “Matthew—”

“Did he touch you?  He didn’t touch you, did he?” Matthew demanded.  He needed the answer to be no so he could calm down.  

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Everything in Matthew suddenly cleared.  All he saw – all he was able to see – was Effie’s face, and how nervous she was, and how she was looking up at him with a certain tenseness.  “Effie—no—I could never be mad at you.  I’m mad at that guy for being gross.”

He noticed Effie furrow her brows slightly.  “Was he trying to get me to have sex with him?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know what he wanted.  But he was being gross and the second I saw him wedge his way into the bar I got up.”

Effie nodded.  “But you’re not mad at me, are you?” she asked again.

“Never, Effie.  Never.”

***

Annica had never been more flabbergasted or without words than when Effie asked her to explain what Instagram was.  Geneviève had to step in, giggling as she mixed together the baked feta pasta the girls were having for lunch.  “It’s supposed to be a platform for sharing pictures,” Geneviève explained.  “You know, like the book you’re reading, or where you’re going, if you go on vacation, or if you see something cool, or let’s say you go out to eat and you want to show what you’re eating…that sort of thing.”

“People want to know that stuff?” Effie asked innocently, causing the girls to giggle.  “People want to know that about me?”

“I’d love to follow you on Instagram.  I’d love to see how you see the world,” Geneviève said.  “It would be a breath of fresh air, to be honest.”

“How would it be a breath of fresh air if everybody is doing it?” Effie asked again.

“Everybody’s not doing it.  That’s the point,” Annica said.  “Instagram has transformed into this, like…God, I don’t even know what to call it.  It’s one big advertisement now.”

Effie considered what the girls were telling her.  She trusted them both, which is why she asked.  Annica talked about it a lot, and was on it a lot, which is why Effie became interested in it in the first place.  Geneviève was on it too, of course, running her own account and also having access to the account for her literary magazine Atomic (she’d given Effie a bunch of old copies to read through, and she was going to devour them right after she finished Geneviève’s book, which was technically a collection of essays).  For a girl who just wanted to be as normal as possible, it seemed to her like Instagram was the logical next step.  “Can…can you guys help me make a profile?”

“Of course,” Annica said as all three of them sat down at the table.  “We can do it after lunch.”

“I’m not your therapist, but you should use it to chronicle your journey and what you’re doing outside of the cult now,” Geneviève offered.  “That’s what I meant when I said I’d love to see how you see the world.  You can post all the things you’ve been baking recently, or the pretty things you see in Calgary when you’re out and about on one of your walks.”

The second that Geneviève mentioned ‘chronicle your journey’, it was like a switch went off in Effie’s brain.  She nodded her head.  “That’s what I’m gonna do.  Let’s make a profile after lunch.”

***

FOLLOW REQUEST: effieschaffer7

You have accepted effieschaffer7’s friend request.

Effie?????

Hi Matthew

U made an insta?

Is it okay if I follow you? Annica helped me

Yes of course it’s okay if u follow me

I am going to post my baking I think

That’s good! I will have to try some one day

When you get back from the road trip there will be something new.  Levi requested a lemon meringue pie and you can have some too if you want.

I’m gonna make sure Levi drives us home then

***

It was Effie who swung the door open excitedly.  Matthew was excited to try the lemon meringue pie, but apparently she was excited about something else.  Her eyes were as wide as the moon and as bright as the sun.  “I got the job!” she screamed.  

Levi dropped his bag as he screamed, catching her as she jumped from the doorway into his arms.  Matthew started cheering too and started clapping; it was only then that Effie even remembered he was standing there, but he really didn’t mind.  “Congratulations, Effie!” he smiled from ear to ear.  “Look at you go!”

She let go of her brother, but still held on to his arms.  “That means I can get the apartment!  That means I can pay for the tuition for the business program!  That means…I…I’m just so excited!”  She looked over at Matthew, seeing his smile, and did the unexpected.  

She hugged him.  She jumped into his arms just like she did with her brother and wrapped her arms around him tightly.  He reciprocated easily, wrapping his own arms around her too.  “That’s amazing, Effie!”

“I just—aaaahhhhheeeeeppppp!” she half yelled-half squealed, letting go of Matthew so they could get back inside.  April in Calgary was still cold.  Both Matthew and Levi set their bags down at the front door and walked straight to the kitchen, following Effie who was practically kicking her heels up.  “I can’t even speak!  I mean, this is—this is me getting to work!  I get to work!  I get to make my own living and make my own money!”

“You should be really proud of yourself,” Matthew said as he sat down on one of the kitchen stools.  “And you get to do something you like to do!  Not a lot of people get to say that.”

She nodded enthusiastically, opening the fridge.  “Here, try this,” she said, taking out the lemon meringue pie she had promised them.  “The owner of the coffee shop said I’m going to start with cookies and brownies and small stuff like that, and then maybe I can expand,” she said.

She cut the pie, plated it for her brother and Matthew, and handing them forks.  Matthew dug in automatically, shoving a giant piece in his mouth.  The second it hit his tongue, he groaned.  “Oh…oh Effie…” he said in between chews.  “This is gonna be dangerous.”

“Is it good?”

“You may need to bake me something every day, now, Effie.  Either that or I’m gonna come visit you every day.”

***

“Piiiiiiivvvooottttt!!!!!”

“If you say that one more time, I’m gonna kill you,” Matthew screamed at Sean holding the other end of the couch at the bottom of the stairs.  

“Piiiiiiiiivvv—”

“Monahan!”

“Is everything okay, boys?” Effie’s sweet voice asked from the top of the stairs, popping her head out of her brand new apartment.  

“We’re fine!” Matthew called out, not wanting her to worry.  “Monahan is just being a jackass!”

“Am not!”

They got the couch upstairs.  They got the bedframe upstairs.  They got the mattress upstairs.  In a little one-bedroom apartment above a storefront on 8th Avenue SW in downtown Calgary, Effie Schaffer was moving in.  Well, Effie was in her apartment unpacking boxes and organizing everything.  Levi, Matthew, Sean, and Jacob were helping move in her furniture.  She was going to thank them gracefully with another pie – this time, she’d experimented with a banana cream pie with salty bourbon caramel.  It was in the fridge waiting.  Each of them would get a nice big slice.

Geneviève came over for a bit, helping Effie with organizing the kitchen.  And Jenna dropped by after work, making sure everything was in order.  Jacob and his piece of pie left with Geneviève, and Levi and his piece of pie left once he knew everything was in order, and Sean and his piece of pie left after he and Matthew had finished putting the couch together.  Matthew hadn’t left with his piece of pie yet.  Matthew stayed.  

“This apartment is so great for you, Effie,” he said as he sat down on the couch, admittedly exhausted from all the hauling but despite that, still not wanting to leave.  There was so much to do and say and admire with Effie now that people weren’t around, and though he’d never admit it out loud to them, he always wanted to be alone with her.  It was different when he was alone with her.  With other people around, he couldn’t stare at her too long without being caught, or they couldn’t talk about things from their previous conversations that only they knew about.  With people gone, they could.  He’d stay until Effie told him to go home; if she would even tell him to go home.  He was unsure if she knew she could tell people to leave because she was tired or just wanted to be alone.

“Tomorrow Levi and I are going to go to the mall to get me a laptop for school,” she said, opening her fridge.  “My course starts in June.  It’s going to be really exciting.”

“That’s great,” he said, looking at her from the couch.  “It’s business, right?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically.  “Business administration.  Are you going to come try this pie or what?”

Matthew hauled his sore body off the couch and made his way towards the kitchen, standing next to Effie as she sliced a piece of the pie for him.  He reached over her head and grabbed two plates from the cupboard, setting them down.  Their bodies were close – purposely, he had to admit selfishly, on his part – so that every time she turned the pie and made a slice, her arm and elbow would touch him.  He watched as she carefully plated the slices.

Before she moved to grab the forks, she looked up at Matthew.  “Can I try something?” she asked timidly.

He furrowed his brows slightly.  “Of course.”

Effie hesitated, looking Matthew in the eye, wondering if she should really go through with what’s been on her mind since Andrew’s birthday party.  She resolved with herself to never let fear get in the way of her making a decision in her new life, especially now that she was free to make those decisions.  So she did it.  She did what she wanted to do.

Effie Schaffer stood on her tip-toes and kissed Matthew Tkachuk.  

It was light, chaste, and pure; no tongue, no longer than three seconds, and no warning.  But she kissed him.  With her eyes closed.  And for the first time in a long, long, long time, when she closed her eyes and kissed someone her body didn’t seize up.  When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t think of the other kisses she had to endure rather than enjoy.  When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t see Abraham.  Matthew’s lips were much softer; there was nothing about him like was like Abraham, not one atom on his body.  She liked it that way.  And the fact that she didn’t remember her past life when it happened made it all the better for her.

Matthew, for his part, was shocked.  Shocked that she, Effie Schaffer, who grew up abused in a cult and didn’t start wearing pants until just a few months ago, would do something so forward.  He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to happen, because he did, against all of his better judgement and the rational side of his brain telling him not to.  “Was that okay for you?” he asked softly.

Effie nodded.  “Of course it was.  I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it would be okay for me.”

Matthew’s word vomit got the best of him.  “Do you think it—”

“Don’t talk to me like you’re my therapist please,” she said quickly.  “Talk to me like you’re a guy.”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

Effie looked down, suddenly nervous.  She wasn’t second-guessing her decision to kiss him, but what she was doing now was wondering what Matthew thought of it.  He’d kissed her back.  He didn’t just stand there and take the kiss – he kissed her back.  He moved his lips too.  That meant something, right?  “Matthew?” she finally asked, her voice soft.

“Hmm?”

“Do you like me?” she asked.

“Of course I like you, Effie.”

“No, I mean do you…do you like me.  Like how boys like girls sometimes.”

Matthew looked her in the eye, his entire ego dropping to the pits of his stomach.  Having the completely inability to be able to lie to her, he gave her a quick nod of the head.  “Yeah, I do.”

Effie bit her bottom lip.  She didn’t know a lot, but she knew this was a huge moment.  But she swallowed hard, her thoughts getting the best of her.  “Even after everything that happened to me?”

Matthew’s heart broke.  It always did when he spoke with Effie.  “Of course,” he said simply.  “You’re not what happened to you.  You’re so much more than that, Effie.”

Effie nodded her head.  She knew that.  Dr. Barlow, Levi, Jenna, Geneviève – everyone important in her life had been telling her that.  She knew it was true, but she needed to hear the words from Matthew.  She couldn’t just assume them.  “I want to let you know that was the first time in my life that I’ve initiated…physical contact with a man,” she said quietly, her voice just above a whisper.  “I did it…I did it with you because I feel comfortable with you.  I wouldn’t have even thought about doing that a year ago but…but you’ve really helped me these past few months, and you make me feel so comfortable to try new things like corn dogs or kissing.  Even just…you know, touching.  I just want you to know that.”

Matthew nodded.  This was huge.  He was pretty sure he hadn’t let out a breath since her lips met his.  “I hope you always feel comfortable around me.”

“I think I will,” she said, smiling slightly.  

Matthew smiled.  “Well, in that case, can I kiss you again?”

“No.”

Matthew chuckled to himself.  Her deadpan delivery dissolved everything.  She was in total control.  “Fair enough.”

Effie moved to grab the forks from the drawer she was standing in front of.  Before she put them on the plates, she looked up at him again.  “But if I kissed you again, would you like it?”

Matthew nodded his head.  “Would you?”

Effie nodded her head.  

***

“What about this?” Matthew asked, pointing to a fake plant hanging from a little black pot.  “Everybody loves fake plants.”

Ikea had a lot of options – too many, if Effie was being honest.  But she nodded her head, and Matthew took the initiative to grab the plant and put it in the cart.  There were a bunch of frames already in there, and some decorative stuff for her new place.  “Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he looked down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I’ve got an Americano with room for milk for Matthew!” the barista called out, setting the drink down on the counter.  Matthew approached to grab his drink, bringing it to the other station where he was able to pour in his milk and two packs of brown sugar before popping the lid on.  He rejoined Effie.

“Does it feel like you’re cheating when I bring you to Starbucks?” he asked her in a light-hearted tone.

“Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he was already looking down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I think these are your best ones yet,” Matthew said through a mouth full of chocolate-dipped almond biscotti.  Effie was trying out recipes.  He was her unofficial-official taste-tester.  The whole team was, really.  And if they sold well in the coffee shop, the manager would allow her to expand.  So far, so good.  “I love the almond flavour.  It’s there but it’s not too strong, you know?”

He watched as Effie nodded her head.  “Matthew?” she asked, looking at him eye-to-eye since he was sitting down on one of the stools in her kitchen.

He knew what was coming.

She leaned forward and kissed him.  His lips tasted like almonds.

***

“Are you excited for the movie?” Matthew asked as he poured the popcorn from the steaming hot bag into the bowls Effie got for them.

“Very,” she nodded.  Tonight they’d be watching Emma, the 2020 movie version of Jane Austen’s classic.  Effie liked to see all the amazing clothes the women used to wear.  A part of her wanted to dress up like that now, but she knew she’d get stared at.  The other part of her never wanted to wear a dress again if she didn’t have to.  “Matthew?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he looked down at her.  He knew what was coming.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

It was always when the two of them were alone.  It never happened when she would wait for him and Levi and Jacob with Jenna and Geneviève after games.  It never happened if they were ever out with a big group, or even just with Levi and Jenna.  Matthew was sure Effie had told them she was kissing him – she probably told Dr. Barlow too, now that he thought about it – but nobody had ever approached him about it.  “I heard you’ve been kissing Effie.”  

It was always the same, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.  They were alone.  They were usually doing something mundane.  Then Effie would ask “Matthew?” in her soft, sweet voice.  He’d look down at her.  She’d go on her tip-toes, and she’d kiss him.

It was always initiated by her.  

***

“Can I take you out on a date?” Matthew asked one day when they were alone in her apartment.  

Effie looked shocked.  Surprised, even, though Matthew didn’t think the question was out of the ordinary.  “You…you want to go out on a date with me?” she asked.

“Yes, of course I do,” Matthew said, wanting there to be no doubts in her mind.  “You know that I like you, Effie.  I think it’s something that could be really fun for you…for us.”

Effie was deep in thought – Matthew could tell.  She nodded slightly.  “We have been doing a lot of kissing lately…” she mused.  He couldn’t help but smile, even though it faded slightly when she looked up at him nervously.  “Matthew, I—I’ve never been on a date before.”

“I figured as much.”

“I mean, I—even with Abraham.  He never—I mean, I was just told I was marrying him because he wanted me.  I told you that.  But even before that.  Women couldn’t date.  Nobody could—I mean most couples were just thrust together, but—but—women weren’t even allowed in the same room alone with the opposite sex because we’d tempt them.”

“I know Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly.  “Listen, if you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.  But you know that I like you.  And I know you like me too.  It’s what people do when they like each other.  So if you’ll let me, we could go out for dinner or something.  Nothing too big or fancy.  Just a dinner.”

If she went on a date with Matthew, Effie would be giving a giant middle finger to her past.  She would be asserting her agency in making her own choices.  She’d be doing something she wasn’t allowed to do for eighteen years of her life.  It was an action of justice at its very core – going on a date with a boy because she liked him and found him attractive.  She wasn’t even allowed to touch other men besides her husband less than two years ago because of his abusive and totalitarian “sermons”.  She remembered back to her begging to her mother not to get married at fourteen and her mother refusing to listen to her.  Here was Matthew saying “If you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.”  

Effie nodded her head.  “I want to go out on a date with you.”

Matthew smiled bashfully.  He was sure his cheeks were going to turn red like some sort of teenager.  “What kind of food d’you wanna eat?”

***

“How’d you get that shiner, buddy?” Sean asked.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

“What the hell happened to you?” Johnny asked the moment he saw him in the locker room.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

Mark Giordano was not happy to see one of his star players show up to the arena with a black eye.  But he didn’t want to confront Matthew in a full locker room, so he waited until there was only a few people around – and even then, they were far away enough that he knew they wouldn’t really pick up on the conversation.  “What the fuck happened to your eye?” Mark asked, approaching Matthew

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled, not even looking at his captain.

Mark furrowed his eyebrows.  There had to be something, a clue of some sort, to help him get to the bottom of this.  It was nobody’s birthday, so Matthew hadn’t gone out to a bar.  He didn’t get into a fight or scuffle on the ice that was too bad, so it couldn’t have been that either.  But then Mark remembered.  “I thought you spent time with Effie last ni—”

“I said I’m not gonna talk about it!” Matthew hissed as he got up abruptly, stomping away and leaving the room.

Mark took a deep breath in, putting his hands on his hips.  Kids.  He had to get to the bottom of this.  It was in his nature.  And as captain, he took his role seriously.  He needed to make sure his teammates were okay.  The media was definitely going to pick up on the black eye, and they’d need a good cover.  He left the locker room, following the path Matthew took, knowing he was probably letting off some steam in an empty trainer’s room.  Mark popped his head into two of them before finding Matthew in a third, facing away from the door and taping his stick.  Mark knew Matthew heard him walk in and shut the door behind him, but Matthew didn’t turn around.

“Sit,” Mark said sternly.

Matthew took a deep breath in but did as he was told.  He wasn’t going to defy Mark – he respected him way too much.  And he knew he had out let out the steam by telling someone, and Mark was probably the best person to tell.  

Mark sat down casually beside him, hunched over with his elbows on his knees so it looked like they were about to have a casual conversation, just in case anyone else barged in.  “Tell me what happened.”

Matthew took a deep breath.  “I took her out on a date last night.”

“Effie.”

“Yeah,” Matthew nodded slightly.  “And it was nice.  We went to a really nice Italian restaurant downtown.  She was having so much fun.  And she came back to my place and—”

“Please don’t tell me—”

“No no—it wasn’t—no,” he emphasized.  “I might be an idiot but I’m not that much of an idiot.”

“You can’t fault me for thinking it.”

Matthew shook his head.  “She came back to my place and I guess—well, I guess because the whole thing was so new for her, it was mentally exhausting.  She sorta kept saying how tired she was.  I told her she could stay over.  And it was fine.  We were just sleeping in the same bed.”

“And then?”

Matthew grumbled.  “And then I moved.”

There was a pause.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

***

“I’m so sorry,” Effie whispered through tears, looking at Matthew’s back as he sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a bag of frozen peas against his face.

The entire night had been lovely.  She’d felt so good, and so comfortable, and so normal.  The food was delicious.  The walk through the park was magical.  The thing’s they’d talked about ran through her mind the entire night.  They hadn’t stopped talking.  They’d gone back to his place.  She was tired.  He suggested she stay over, knowing Levi wouldn’t mind.  She agreed.  She borrowed an old t-shirt and shorts.  They’d fallen asleep in his bed.  And it was lovely.  

And then at some point, in the middle of the night, with Effie’s back facing Matthew as he switched positions in his sleep, all she felt was a body pressing up against her slightly.  So she did the only thing she needed to do.

She punched him.  Hard.  

She hit between his eye and nose.  A loud “FUCK!” escaped him after the sound of skin hitting skin permeated through his bedroom.  Her body seized up and, like countless times before, she jumped out of bed.  When she turned around to look down at the bed, Matthew was clutching his eye in pain.  It was then that she realized just that – it was Matthew.  It wasn’t Abraham.  

“M—M—Matthew,” she stuttered out.  

“What the fuck, Effie?!” his temper got the best of him.

“M—Matthew—I—I thought—Abraham—I thought you were Abraham—”

With his one clear eye, he looked at her.  His chest was heaving.  But he didn’t say anything.  His shoulders slumped slightly.  And without saying anything, he got up out of the bed and walked out of the room.

Effie immediately dropped to her knees on the bed.  It’s what she would have done before, to ask for forgiveness for denying her husband satisfaction whenever and wherever he wanted it.  But now, in the new world, in her new world, it wasn’t like that.  She didn’t have to repent for her sin.  It didn’t have to be that way.  Abraham wasn’t in bed with her.  It was Matthew.  Sweet, soft, rough around the edges Matthew.

She started crying.  She couldn’t believe that she’d just done that to him.  She cried so hard she didn’t even realize he’d come back into the room quietly, with a bag of peas pressed against his face where she’d punched him.  

After she apologized, and he said nothing, she crawled over to him, the last of her tears spilling over her cheeks.  She lay her hand on his back.  “Matthew—”

He flinched at her touch.  She recoiled her hand back so quickly she didn’t know she could move that fast.  Her heart tightened in her chest, knowing she’d just caused him – and was continuing to cause him – such physical pain, when all he’d given her over the last few months was patience and support.  

Matthew heard her sharp intake of breath when he flinched.  He didn’t mean to flinch – really – he just didn’t expect her to touch him after she’d just punched his face for brushing up against her.  He took a few deep breaths to control his emotions before he looked behind him, seeing her tear-stained face looking at him.  

When he saw the lingering fear in her eyes, he couldn’t be angry.

***

Matthew played his hockey game, and he managed to score a goal and record an assist, but after the game, his mind was somewhere else.  Effie hadn’t shown up to the game; she wasn’t waiting with Jenna and Geneviève, and Jenna told him she was tired from work which is why she stayed home.  He needed to talk to her.  Needed to talk to her.  But he didn’t know how, and he didn’t know what to do.  

Jacob, Geneviève, Levi, and Jenna all left early, leaving him to go home alone.  He trudged down the hallway and took the elevator to the parking garage, his feet dragging on the concrete and he walked with his head down, a storm forming in his mind about what he was going to do.

“Matthew?” he heard a soft voice.

He shot his head up.  For a second he thought he was hallucinating, or some sort of mirage, but no – Effie was in the parking garage, standing right next to his car.  He had no idea how she got in but at this point he didn’t really care.  All he cared about was that she was there.  He rushed over to her as quickly as his legs would take him.  “You’re here,” he said, once he got close to her.  Her face was red and blotchy.  He hated seeing it like that.  It reminded him of the incident in the washroom.  “What’s going on?”

“I spent the whole day crying thinking about what I did to you,” she said, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears again.

“Effie, I told you it was alri—”

“It’s not alright, Matthew,” she asserted.  He’d said it all last night while she was profusely apologizing, but she didn’t believe him.  He’d said it up until she was picked up by a taxi to be taken back to her place.  He’d begged her to stay.  She couldn’t see how she could when she’d just punched him in the face.  “I wish you would stop saying that.  I hit you.  I gave you a black eye.  Nothing about that is alright—”

“Effie—”

“I just—I thought you were Abraham because he’d do that a lot and—because I would always try to say no otherwise, and so he had to get me at a point where—”

“EFFIE,” he said loudly, over her frantic voice, and she stopped immediately.  They stared at each other for a few moments in pure silence before Effie could feel Matthew’s hands grab hers.  He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she nestled her face into his chest and inhaled his scent.  A wave of peace flowed throughout her body.  He hadn’t asked to touch her, but at the same time, she hadn’t flinched.  His touch was so…so pure and so soft – so unlike anything else she’d felt before – that there was no reason to flinch or be scared.  His hands wouldn’t hurt her like other hands had.  She realized this, inhaling his scent one more time.  He wouldn’t hurt her.

When he released the hug, she brought her own hands up to cradle his face.  His facial hair was a bit rough against her skin, but it was still the softest she’d ever felt on a man.  Maybe it was because he always gave her butterflies.  Maybe it was something else.  “You’re so soft, Matthew…” her voice was barely above a whisper.  

“What’s that mean?” he asked, his voice equally as low.  “I’m not soft.”

“Yes, you are.  You are for me,” she clarified.  “You’re the softest man I’ve ever felt.  I don’t want that to change.”

He realized what she meant now.  It hit him like a ton of bricks, like most things did with Effie.  “It won’t,” he asserted.  “You can count on me.”

“I know I can,” she nodded her head.

Matthew couldn’t take it anymore.  They couldn’t continue this in the parking garage.  “Can I take you back to my place again and we can talk?  Properly?”

Effie nodded her head.  

***

Matthew let Effie roam in his kitchen while he changed out of his suit into some comfier clothes.  When he emerged from his room, Effie was sitting on his couch – just like she had been last night – a glass of water in her hand, sipping from it delicately.  He knew she’d end up back on his couch since she had commented last night how big and comfy it was.  Matthew didn’t even know where it was from – it came with the apartment.  But ever since she’d sat on it and made the comment, he found it comfier.

He walked over to her slowly, and she watched him, not saying a word.  Instead of taking a seat beside her, he knelt in front of her, between her legs.  He was still almost at eye level with her.  Boldly, he took the glass of water out of her hand and set it down on the coffee table.  He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumb tenderly.  “Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“What happened that night?  After you punched Abraham?”

Effie was silent for a moment.  “I…I—I got pregnant.”

The words stabbed Matthew in the heart.  He squeezed her hands to let go of some pain, and she squeezed back.  “I’m so sorry for what I did, Effie—”

“You have nothing to apologize about,” she said.  “You did nothing wrong.”

“But I scared you.  And I promised I’d never do that.  And it brought up bad memories…”

Effie was shaking her head.  “You didn’t scare me.  My mind did.  My mind thought you were Abraham.  But you’re the farthest thing from him, Matthew, and you need to know that.  You don’t scare me at all.  Not even a bit.  Not like Abraham scared me.”

Matthew bit his tongue so he could feel some pain and keep himself from crying.  To think about how she was so scared for eighteen years of her life, and now she wasn’t, and part of that was because he was around, helping her feel comfortable…he couldn’t have asked for anything more.  He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty for what happened, especially since Effie was telling him what she was telling him, but he knew he would for a while.  It’d take him a while to get over it.  “When we went on the date…did you—I mean, did you just do it because you felt like you had to?  Because you had to experience a first date to be normal or whatever?  Or did you actually want to?” he asked.

“I actually wanted to,” she said without hesitation.  Matthew could feel his heart beating in his chest.  “I wanted to, and with you.  Not with another guy and not with, like, Sean or whatever,” she said, and it made Matthew break out into a smirk.  “It was you.  And even though…I mean—I mean I think we could…and we would…” she tried to formulate her thought into coherent words.  

“But I don’t know if we should,” he finished her sentence.

Effie nodded.  “At least not yet.  I’m not—I’m not mentally there yet.  I’m not ready.  And it wouldn’t be fair to bring you along so closely with something I know I’m not ready for.  There’s so much I still need to learn…about, well…everything.”

Matthew nodded his head.  He understood completely.  “You know that I never expected anything, right?” he asked.

“Oh, of course not,” she said like it was the obscenest idea in the world.  She knew Matthew would never expect that of her.  “I think what’ll be good is you going home during the summer, and me starting my course in June…and by the time you come back in September, you might even see a brand new me.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile at that.  He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs again.  “You’re already a brand new person, Effie.  When I come back you’ll just be wiser.  Do you promise to message me on Instagram about everything you learn and the stuff you experience?”

Effie nodded her head, a smile adorning her face now.  “Matthew?” she asked after a moment of silence.

This time, he looked up at her.  He knew what was coming.

This time, she didn’t need to stand on her tip-toes.  All she had to do was lean forward and kiss him.

[lisinfleur]

Memento Mori

The request:

Author’s Notes | This came out sadder than I thought. But it’s beautiful imo and I hope you like it. Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | requested by anon for 5CW Ivar II, posted for HTGI Event. Words | 1894 ⁑ Warnings: Triggering content: mentions of child loss (past), mentions to burns, deep angst. Caution is recommended, the following content may be triggering to some audiences.

She became my queen.

From a woman I couldn't handle looking at to the one I didn't want to take my eyes off, Y/N became the most precious of my treasures.

And perhaps it was the reason why finding that piece of metal hidden beneath her pillow was such a huge betrayal to me.

Perhaps it was for loving her too deeply that I let out raw screams of rage that woke up the whole Hall when I found that symbol of her lies.

I could remember every trace of our story.

The day I chose her from the line of our Saxon's slaves because she noticed I was in pain.

"I know how to care for these pains, my lord."

Her ointments, her treatments, how slowly she eased the pain of my body more than any healer was able to do. How, one night at a time, it brought her closer to me like a companion.

How it made me talk to her, be gentler, try to get her smiles.

How her presence became the easiest way to get mine.

My fingers pressed that piece of retorted metal, remembering how deep I'd fallen in love with her. How she promised she would leave her past for me. How I asked her to come home with me. To come into my life. To be mine, and no one else's.

Every single promise of hers was broken by that piece's presence.

How could I trust her when she was betraying me like that? Laying beside me with that symbol as if it wasn't a crime by itself against my trust, against my love.

Against everything.

"How could you?" I yelled when she came into our room, attracted by my screams. "How could you lie to me like this?"

The metal cross, made of gold and silver, hanging from my fingers for her major shock and surprise.

"Ivar..."

"No!" I yelled again.

My voice was as loud as the pain was big in my heart.

"I've been trusting you all these years, Y/N. I trusted your promises! I made you my wife!" I said, looking at her with fierce and sharp blues. "I made you my queen... I gave you everything and this... This is how you repay my love!"

"Ivar no!" she insisted, trying to approach. "It's not what you think..."

I pushed her away, watching as she fell near the fireplace.

"Don't come to me with more of your lies, woman!" I kept yelling, furious. "What more, Y/N?" I asked.

My eyes deep inside of hers.

"What more about you is a lie? What more did you tell me you would do that you're not doing, my dear wife? Uh? What more?!"

Her tears started rolling down her face, but I could see her eyes were focused on the piece in my hand, and it just made me angrier. She wasn't really feeling bad nor guilty about lying to me.

No.

Her major concern was that piece in my hands. That cross was so beloved that she could ignore my deepest wounds to look at it with all the fear of Midgard in her eyes.

She wasn't afraid of losing me the same way she was terrified by the idea of losing that scrap of meaningless metal I had in my hands.

I've seen it in red.

I didn't see when I threw that shit in the fire, hearing with contempt the yell of despair her voice converted into. Watching with deception while she burned her own fingers to pick that piece from the fire, hurting her hands I'd caressed so many times.

Everything just to have back that meaningless symbol of her treason.

The metal didn't even have time to get warm enough to be damaged, but she had marks from the burning wood she had touched fearlessly for that insignificant proof of her crime.

"Is it this strong?" I asked, looking at her with disdain. "Your faith in him is so..."

"It was my child's!" she cried out loud, cutting my voice.

Freezing me in place when her sobs broke her voice, and I saw her bringing that cross close to her heart, embracing it with her wounded hands as if it was the most precious thing in this world.

"It was my child's crucifix," she sobbed. "It was everything that's left from my baby boy. I didn't have time to pick up his clothes. I couldn't pick up anything. This is everything that's left."

My shock was maybe as big as my confusion.

"You... Had a child?" I asked, totally stunned by those words.

Still trembling, Y/N lifted her face, looking at me with thick tears in her eyes full of sorrow.

"My little Rafael..." she mumbled, making my face frown with all the love in the way she spoke his name.

I could remember hearing something about a Rafael from Bishop Heahmund, cycles ago. Something about an arch-angel or something like that.

"I named him after the archangel of healing, begging God to heal his awful pain. Begging anyone who could bless my hands to relieve his constant misery," she continued.

Crushing my heart with the sigh of my mother's eyes on hers.

She was speaking of her Rafael the same way mother used to speak about... Me.

"He was my everything. My one and only child my husband didn't want to accept. He left me because of Rafael's condition, saying I'd given birth to a demon. But My child wasn't a demon!" she yelled.

Defending her child... The same way mother would do to me...

"He's not a monster!"

I swallowed dry as she continued, making that knot in my throat almost suffocating.

"Rafael was just a child in pain. His legs were like yours," she cried.

Her burnt fingers caressing the jewel in her hands.

"Sometimes, I couldn't even hold my son without hurting him," she mumbled painfully. "Sometimes, even the minimum movement would break his little bones, so I was twice as careful when doing anything to my little angel. But..."

The pause in her voice filled my heart with sorrow.

I had never scratched that part of her story. I could imagine why.

I could imagine how it would end.

"First, I thought he was indeed a little angel God decided to take back to the sky. Then... Then the anger came. Why would God make such an innocent angel suffer like that? Why giving him to me if I would have to bury his little broken body with my bare hands? I yelled at God. I cried at him. But he never answered me. And then... I got revolted. My little Rafael wasn't with me anymore. And it was God's fault for doing him that way! It was God's fault for allowing my child to suffer. It was my fault for producing him imperfectly. It was everyone's fault!" she paused, swallowing her sobs for a moment. "And when your men came, when your faith came, and I've heard your words about yourself, I finally understood. It was no one's fault. It was his fate. It was my fate. And God didn't make him like that to suffer. No. The gods had given him to me as a gift so he could spend the most beautiful days of my life in my arms. The gods had cut the thread of his life to spare him from suffering cause his condition was worse than yours. And he wouldn't survive as long as you did."

Her words were killing me inside, softly.

She'd found relief in my faith. She'd found an answer to her questions in my gods. And there I was, hurting her because of a stupid necklace.

"The gods showed me their mercy bringing you into my life so I could understand my child's fate. And so..." Y/N looked at me. "So I thought they wouldn't be mad if I saved this little memento. It means nothing the faith it carries, Ivar. It's not Christ's cross anymore. This... This is my remembrance of my sweet Rafael. This doesn't turn me to the skies, Ivar. This makes me remember his tiny little fingers trying to catch this cross in my hands, or his giggles whenever it would shine for him to see."

Her voice broke. The sobs engulfed her. And I saw her embracing the necklace again as if she could embrace her child the gods had taken from her so soon.

How stupid I was. How unfair could I be?

I sat in my bed, taking off my braces and dragging myself closer to her, bringing my bandages and ointment I took from my nightstand. Slowly, I took the small piece from her hands, treating it with the proper respect when I placed it gently on her neck, carrying for her hands and bandaging the burns after spreading the ointment over them.

I kissed her fingers and cupped her face, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking into her eyes. "I'm deeply sorry for what I did, my love. Forgive me, please." I asked.

No shame of showing my regret, gently caressing her cheeks.

She leaned into my hands, so mine. Her eyes closed as she felt my caresses, sighing as if they could soothe the pain in her heart.

"I didn't lie to you, my heart. I swear," she mumbled.

"Shhh..." I said, touching her lips gently. "I know. I was wrong," I mumbled, touching our foreheads, slowly nuzzling my nose to hers.

"He taught me how to take care of you, my love," she said, opening her eyes so deep into mine. "I've learned with my child how to soothe your pain. He was so important in my life... I would've never known how to care for you if it wasn't for his existence. He allowed us to exist. And I'm so grateful I had him, although it was for such little time, I'm grateful."

I held her in my arms, cradling her body against mine. And I stayed there a long time trying to compensate for my horrible behavior.

When she fell asleep that night, I went out of our house. I crawled up on the hill, and I gathered stones. I placed them all together, and marked them with runes, placing some flowers and small decorations around them.

I made it as if it was my own child. And I prayed for him, asking the gods he could hear me that single night.

"I don't know where you are. If with Hel or in heaven, as the Christians believe. But I want you to know I'll take care of her. I swear on my arm ring I'll never make her cry like this once again. And when your brothers and sisters come, I'll tell them about you. I'll tell them your story. So, you shall live through them. So, you shall live forever."

After that, I saw my dear Y/N with her precious cross here or there. She didn't have to hide it from me anymore, so, sometimes, I would see her holding the small jewel with tenderness. But now, it had a whole new meaning to me.

And I knew, somewhere in the afterlife, a child was very happy for the loving mother that brought him into this world someday.

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[randomimaginesforrandompeople]

Little sister pt. 2 | Riven imagine

Summary: This is a part two of Little sister so if you haven’t read that I advise you to do so! In this part Riven finally asks you out.

A/N:  I  wanted do a part two to show more of ‘your’ thought process but oh well, I really like writing big brother Sky haha. So don’t hesitate to send me request about that I really like big brother Sky! but if there is interest I can always do a part 3? I got some people in my inbox with ideas already so please let me know!

You were interested in Riven, very obviously so. Which Sky hated, making it even more funny to you. You had explained plenty of times that it was none of his business and that you were grown enough to make your own decisions. Sky then often sighed, knowing you were right but just wanting to protect you. You appreciated Sky, you really did, but he needed to loosen up a little.

You had a day off today and you and some of the girls decided to go to the second year specialist training to watch. You had told them about your good bond with Sky but you hadn't told them about your family bond with Silva. You were happy that the others wanted to go to the training as well because you needed an excuse to watch Riven. It was really hard to find moments to be around Riven without Sky basically dragging either of you away.

Riven had tried a million times to tell Sky that he was only joking when he said he just wanted to screw you, he tried to explain that he had actual feelings for you but Sky was extremely stubborn. However, Riven was too and he was not giving up because of his annoyingly protective best friend who would rather have you locked down somewhere than have you date anyone for that matter.

Sky had never seen Riven act this polite and eager before. They were sparring and Silva was giving tips. Riven was acting like never before. He thanked Silva multiple times, asked for help and even wanted to volunteer. "Suck up" Sky laughed after Riven had thanked Silva for the 100th time. "Gotta get him to like me" Sky rolled his eyes "You're joking right?" Riven smirked "Nope, want him to like me for when I start dating y/n" Riven knocked Sky down "Good job Riven!" Silva exclaimed loudly and Riven looked at Sky with a proud grin on his face.

The girls arrived at the training grounds where Sky was currently knocked down. You chuckled "I thought you were supposed to be training, not napping on the floor" Sky growled as Riven laughed. He winked at you and you smiled, blushing a little. Sky wanted to hit his head, this is exactly what he had tried to avoid.

It's not that he didn't trust Riven, he did with his life. It was just hard to see you grow into an adult, who dates. And why did it have to be his best friend? But he noticed the way you were around each other, and Riven even wanting to impress Silva told him that Riven was actually trying.

Sky sighed in defeat as he pulled Riven to the side. "Fine" Riven looked at him confused "I know I am, but what is it?" Sky rolled his eyes "Don't make me change my mind" Riven still looked confused "Could you please just tell me?" Sky sighed once again "You can ask y/n out, but if she says no you stop bothering her" Riven grinned "Thanks" he patted his friend on the back "Oh but she won't say no" Riven laughed as Sky looked at him with a sour face.

Riven wasted no time, stalking right over to you. "Good to see your pretty face again y/n" you smiled "Likewise" He smirked and sat down next to you "Would you maybe like to hang out? Just the two of us" He nodded at Sky and you giggled "I would really like that" He rose up with a big grin on his face "It's a date" he winked at you and got back to Sky "told you she wouldn't say no" Sky rolled his eyes, he was already regretting his decision. ‘’You better treat her right dude because I swear to god-’’ Riven cut Sky off ‘’Come on, I told you this is not like anyone else, I really like her’’ He looked over at you talking and laughing with Musa and Bloom. 

Sky saw the way he looked at you and he realized he spoke the truth ‘’Sorry for being such a pain about it. She’s just..different’’ Sky also looked over at you ‘’I grew up with her, she’s basically my sister and one of the most important people in my life’’ He sighed ‘’But that doesn’t mean that I should hold her back, it’s just a difficult transition’’ Riven patted his back, he was glad his friend was opening up. He didn’t have a sister-like relationship of his own but he could understand where he was coming from and he was happy that Sky was finally telling him about it. ‘’I can see that, I promise that I will treat her right Sky’’ Sky nodded ‘’I know you will’’ the two hugged it out. They walked over to the rest of the group ‘’But I take it that you don’t want details about our upcoming sex life?’’ ‘’Christ Riven, just shut up’’

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[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hot Mess

Prompt: Hi, so I really flippin love your writing style and I was wondering if you could write a fic of the sides just flirting(mainly Janus because we all know he's the best flirter) with each other, like in (Un)wanted chapter 1 where Janus was flustering Virgil really badly, that sort of thing. Could be DLAMP or DLAMPR I don't mind. You don't have too I was just wondering... Thanks either way!

First off, thank you so much for the prompt! Second...

Listen. Everything is awful and I don’t understand how flirting works. Ever. Actually, you know what, no. No one understands what flirting is. There have been so many fucking tests run and no one can ever tell who is flirting ever. It’s bullshit. Everything is bullshit and I’ve never understood a damn thing in my entire life and I’m sure as hell not about to start now. So.

That being said, here. 

Read on Ao3

Pairings: yes. LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR. 

Warnings: sympathetic janus & remus

Word Count: 5884

If you ask anyone whose fault is it that everyone, for some reason, starting flirting with each other, they’ll blame Janus. Even Janus. He knows what he did. It’s his fault.

Anyway, there are a few things that are a given. Everyone flirts with everyone, with the one exception of Roman and Remus. They’re brothers. It doesn’t work. Anything else is fair game. Are they being serious? Who knows. Probably. Maybe. Keeping anything straight around the Mindscape is complicated enough, for obvious reasons.

 Doesn’t mean there can’t be some level of trying to keep track of what’s bound to happen at some point.

 Patton’s flirting is both the least obvious and the most obvious. It’s super cheesy pick up lines delivered completely genuinely and the sweetest pet-names ever. But the problem is that’s not too different from how he normally is. For some reason, the Dad Coaxing Tone™ is the worst and he knows it. He doesn’t flirt nearly as often as some of the others do and he’s surprisingly sweet about it. It normally just makes them kind of giggly and slightly redder than normal. Always comes with hugs, which is never something to complain about. Cheeky comments and cheeky smiles that leave them second-guessing everything that just happened. And, of course, by the time they’re just about finished wrapping their heads around what just happened, he’s back with another line and here they go again.

 Roman.

 Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

 They should have expected this because his job is romance but fucking hell.

 His way of showing love is through poking fun at things so…all the teasing. All of it. Not just verbal teasing, even though that in itself is enough to make everyone melt into puddles, but he gets close. Like, sneak-up-and-hug-you-from-behind kind of close. Or he’ll just stand really close with a smirk as he teases them, waiting for them to give in and run into his arms. Or he’ll crowd them against the wall. Or the counter. Someone probably dared him to do this—or not, because, again, it’s Roman—but he definitely pinned Logan to the wall and didn’t let up until his grip on Logan’s wrists were the only thing keeping him standing. Also, super gushy pet-names. Like, super gushy. Like Patton, very fond of telling them how cute they are, including asking them why they’re hiding such a cute face, come on, he wants to see how adorable they are. With Janus and Logan, he makes his voice lower, taking advantage of how close that lets him get. Dramatic monologues or sneaking up and dipping them are a must. He goes full Disney Prince and doesn’t let up until they can’t even ramble anymore, smiling down at their bright red cheeks. With the others, he makes his voice very sweet, soft, and gentle. He gets right in their faces so they can’t go anywhere and riles them up until they’re a melted squirmy mess. It’s not uncommon to find someone—normally Patton or Virgil— an absolute puddle with Roman beaming, just twisting them round and round his finger. Merciless and shameless flirt. Roman is the actual worst and they all love him.

  Virgil is affectionately known as The Meme Flirter. No prizes for guessing who came up with that. He picks one nickname for each of them and just peppers it into conversation with a wink and a smirk. The master of timing. He doesn’t need to spend ages winding them up, he just picks the right moment and they’re covering their faces and squirming. Also uses the technique of being close but not close enough to touch. Sometimes he’ll team up with Roman or Logan and just be there all ‘you know he’s right’ when they look to him for help, or engage in conversation with whoever else is flirting about how red they’re getting, or how much they’re squirming. Or he’ll engage in flirt competitions. He’s way more confident about it than they ever anticipate and it always catches them off guard. He keeps an eye on them though, because he knows the others (especially Roman) can get carried away. “You don’t wanna break ‘em, do you?”

 (They do sometimes but shh.)

 For Logan, infodumping is the actual best way of expressing affection and you will not convince him otherwise. He’ll research topics so they can talk about them together if they want but if you think that is it then boy howdy you are wrong. This guy keeps notebooks on the best way to fluster each and every one of the Sides, okay. He knows his shit. He infodumps about them too, phrasing compliments as provable facts. Will pretend to be confused about why they’re getting so flustered, he’s just telling them the truth, why are you so red? It would be convincing if he weren’t purposefully making his voice as low as it can go and smirking. Also a teasy bastard. He will just ask them to do things he knows they can’t help doing when they get flustered, especially with Patton or Janus. He’s asked Janus to squee for him more often than he would like. (Liar.) Or they’ll be protesting and telling them to knock it off and he’ll just point out that ‘no one is holding you. Nor are we blocking any exits. By all means, if you wish to leave, then you may.’ Knowing perfectly well they’re puddles and puddles can’t move. But then ‘oh, you must not want to leave.’ ‘Accidental’ touches make it worse, as well as nonchalantly adding in pet-names. He’s the one who figured out that pet-names make them melt, by the way. Also figured out that firmer touches help ground them, so he offers them a deal sometimes. If they like, they can come and cuddle with him while he flirts. It gives them an excuse to cuddle and a place to hide, but that does mean he’s murmuring right into their ears. It’s a double-edged sword. When he teams up with Roman they are the worst, especially when they agree that it’s necessary to reestablish emotional stability. Or they’re bored, snickering when poor Virgil bolts out of the room from too much blush. Virgil will run away if it gets to be too much, he’s got that built into his whole deal as anxiety, but Janus…forget about it. That team-up definitely has overwhelmed the poor thing multiple times. You can’t freeze with these predators, they’ll eat you alive. They definitely teased and flirted with him until he burst into tears one time, it was…an experience.

 “Enough!”

 Roman pauses, midway through some dramatic gesture, faltering at the crack in Janus’s voice. Logan glances at him before looking back at Janus, his hands still pressed hard to his face, his shoulders tense. He takes a small step forward and tilts his head.

 “Janus?”

 He calls his name softly until he lowers his hands, unable to stop the comforting noise when he sees the tears on his cheeks. Beside him, Roman inhales sharply, only to make a noise of protest when he immediately covers his face again.

 “Janus,” he says, dropping the flirty persona immediately, “may I touch you?”

  Please say yes, please.

 He nods. Logan reaches out, gently covering his hands to coax them away, clutching them tightly.

 “Too much?” Janus nods. “My apologies, it was not my intention to overwhelm you.”

 “Nor mine, little snake,” Roman says quietly.

 “I know.”

 “Would you like us to stay,” Logan asks gently, giving his hands a squeeze, “or leave you alone?”

 Janus shuffles, his mouth drawing tight and his hands tensing. Logan is content to wait patiently for him to make up his mind, but Roman seems to have other ideas.

 “Oh dear,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer, “we really overdid it this time, didn’t we, darling?”

 “I said enough,” Janus mumbles.

 “I know, I know, I’m done,” he assures, reaching out to tenderly wipe his cheek, “I promise. Oh, oh you poor thing…”

 “Roman,” Logan chides gently, “I don’t think…”

 He trails off when Janus frees one of his hands, tentatively reaching out for Roman. Roman swoops in, gathering him into a hug so tight his fingers whiten from his grip on him. As Logan watches, Roman tilts his head slightly, beginning to pepper kisses along the side of his face.

 “I don’t understand,” he says quietly, “how…how is this not more overwhelming?”

 “I think you’re going to have to wait to ask him that, Specs,” Roman murmurs, “because I don’t know that either.”

 “Then how did you know it would work?”

 Roman looks up at him, sadness coloring his gaze. “Because a different face told me it would.”

  Ah.

 “I’m right here,” Roman says softly, rocking Janus in his arms, “I’m right here, little snake. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

 Janus all but slumps into Roman’s embrace, his head tucking neatly against his shoulder as he presses more kisses to his face.

 “I have you, alright? I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.” Roman adjusts his grip. “It’s just like we always do, hmm? I rile you up and then you come here and I cuddle you right back down.”

 He pulls back to gently catch another tear with his thumb. “Just pushed a bit too far this time, hmm?”

  I rile you up and cuddle you back down.

  Like we always do.

  I’m not going to hurt you, you know I’m not.

 “I understand,” Logan breathes, “I understand now.”

 “Understand what?”

 “What’s happening.” Logan steps forward, gently resting his hands on the part of Janus’s back not covered by Roman’s arms. “And how I can help.”

 “By all means then,” Roman says, “tell us.”

 “Janus is…not accustomed to receiving compliments,” Logan begins, lightly hushing Janus’s noise of protest.

“It’s true, little snake,” Roman says.

 “Yes, and we will work on that,” Logan promises, “but that does make it easy to blindside or disarm him with comments of that nature. Hence…”

 He motions between the three of them.

 “You’re not used to experiencing affection like this,” he continues softly, “and especially not through flirting or playful teasing, which is why it doesn’t take much effort on our parts to fluster you.”

 Janus makes another noise of protest and he shushes him gently.

 “I’m not trying to tease, Janus, I promise,” he murmurs, “but it doesn’t, does it? It makes you uncomfortable because you don’t understand it, not really, so you don’t know what to expect next. We have not exactly been…forthcoming with affection in the past, have we?”

 Janus nods hesitantly.

 “This, however,” Logan continues, leaning a little more of his weight onto his hands, “is a form of affection you understand very well.”

 He steps a little closer, rubbing firm circles into Janus’s back.

 “You are a very heat-sensitive person,” he says, “and you understand how to give and receive affection in this language, so to speak. When one of us touches you while we are teasing or flirting with you, it heightens the loss of control you feel because it’s something that should be familiar, but it’s being used in an unfamiliar way.”

 “But when it’s like this,” Logan continues, leaning closer, “it’s calming. Grounding. Especially after you’ve just been in a state of higher stress. You know what we mean by it.”

 “When I put my hand on your shoulder or your back,” he murmurs, shifting his weight further onto his hands, “you know it means I’m here, right here, and I’m not going anywhere. When Roman kisses you—“ Logan smiles when Roman uses that as an excuse to press another kiss to Janus’s forehead— “you know it means he cares about you, that he won’t let anything hurt you.”

 “Look at our resident genius over here,” Roman says, leaning over to peck Logan’s cheek too, smirking when it brings a flush to his face, “aww, Logan, feeling left out?”

 “No,” Logan replies stiffly, ignoring the growing smirk on Roman’s face, “and even if I were, we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

 “No, no,” Janus mumbles, “I’m good now, I can leave, it can be Logan’s turn.”

 Roman raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you gonna let that go?’

 Logan will most certainly not.

 “I can assure you,” he rumbles into Janus’s ear, “I am perfectly satisfied with our roles as they currently stand.”

 Roman chuckles when Janus squirms in his grip.

 “After all,” Logan continues, “we have just established that this can be quite the cathartic experience for you, it wouldn’t do at all to interrupt it before it is complete.”

 “Did you just…create a scientific excuse to do this in the name of maintaining emotional stability?”

 Logan smirks. “Perhaps.”

 “You know better than to try and argue with Logan about science,” Roman adds.

 Janus swats at them half-heartedly but doesn’t protest when Roman lets him go a few moments later, pressing one last kiss to his forehead and leaving. Logan taps him gently on the shoulder.

 “Am I correct, Janus?”

 “Yeah,” he mumbles, a little red still on his cheeks, “you’re right.”

 “Good.” Logan reaches out and slides the tissue box closer. “And…thank you.”

 He looks up, confused. “For what?”

 Logan smiles. “For telling us it was too much, and for letting us help.”

 That’s the first time Logan’s able to determine exactly how best to help one of them calm down, especially after one of them is incredibly flustered. The first time he implements it is under…slightly different circumstances.

 He’s not quite sure how Virgil and Roman talked him into playing Truth Or Dare, but here he is, on the couch, Roman sprawled across the floor, Virgil perched on the back. So far he’s had to cover his ears from Roman belting the third Disney medley in an hour and he has several questions for Remus about where his good clipboard is. Then it’s Virgil’s turn again and he picks dare.

 “Are you sure, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance?” Roman asks.

 “Just hit me with it, Princey.”

 Roman taps his fingers against his chin, glancing around. His eyes land on a spot over Logan’s shoulder and he grins. Logan follows his gaze and sees Janus in the kitchen.

 “I dare you,” Roman announced, “to flirt with Patton for two minutes.”

 Virgil snorts. “That’s it?”

 Roman just sweeps his arm dramatically. “Your dare awaits.”

 Virgil shrugs, getting up off the couch and making his way to the kitchen. The instant he’s almost there, Roman scrambles up, jumping onto the couch next to Logan, almost landing on top of him, hooking his chin over the back.

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “Comfortable?”

 “Shush, Pocket Protector,” Roman says, flapping a hand, “and get your timer out.”

 Logan rolls his eyes, checking his watch and watching Virgil lean on the counter, propping his chin on his hand.

 “Hey there, cutie.”

 Patton startles, whirling around to see Virgil. “Hey! Wow, you scared me, uh, yeah, hi there!”

 “Sorry,” Virgil smiles, not sounding the least bit sorry, “can’t help it. You look like a cute little bunny when you’re startled.”

 “Oh, god, not this,” Patton mutters, turning around, his face already starting to flush.

Virgil grins, his tongue between his teeth as Patton tries to go back to what he was doing. “You just make it too easy, cutie.”

 “I do not!”

 The grin turns feral. “Then why don’t you turn around and show me that pretty face?”

 “Nope. No thank you. I’m going to stay over here.”

 “Why, afraid of proving me right?”

 “No.”

 “Then come on, cutie,” Virgil says, tilting his head, “turn around.”

 Patton leans his head back, sighing before turning around and spreading his arms. “Happy?”

 “Mm.” Virgil grins. “You’ve got such pretty eyes, Patton.”

 He stutters, his face already turning red. “Oh my god. Stop!”

 “Can’t help it cutie,” Virgil says, waggling his eyebrows and chuckling when Patton covers his face, “I’ve been dared to do this for two minutes!”

 “Good to know,” Patton squeaks, “that this is only happening because it’s mandatory.”

 “Aw, don’t be like that, cutie, you know I’ll flirt with you anyway.”

 “That is not what I meant!”

 Virgil only laughs harder. “You might wanna pace yourself, cutie, you’ve still got…”

 He trails off, looking at Logan. Logan checks his watch.

 “One minute and twelve seconds.”

 “One minute and twelve seconds left,” Virgil finishes, propping himself back up on the counter, “so…”

 The sight is entertaining, Logan has to admit. Patton goes bright and flushed, his eyes squeezing shut, mumbling little things to himself and trying not to whine every time Virgil opens his mouth.

 “Aw,” Virgil teases when he breaks and tries to bite down on his knuckle, “don’t muffle yourself, cutie.”

 “Goodness, you need to stop.”

 “I want your voice on my playlist, it’s so pretty.”

 “Why?”

 “I just said.” Virgil props his chin on his hand again. “It’s so pretty.”

 “No, why are you doing this?”

 Virgil smirks. “Because you’re so pretty.”

 And with that, Patton’s reduced to another blushy panic with plenty of muttered comments and Virgil’s standing there, grinning. It’s refreshing, seeing Virgil so confident, so sure of himself. It looks good on him.

 And, of course, Patton is objectively adorable.

 The scene is so captivating, in fact, that Logan glances down at his watch only to realize the two minutes have expired.

 “Time,” he calls, much to Patton’s relief.

 “Thank goodness.”

 “Aw,” Virgil pouts, “you’ll hurt my feelings, cutie.”

 “Nope. No more.” Patton points a stern finger at him, the effect slightly undone by his pink cheeks and the fact that he’s obviously fighting a smile. “You get out.”

 Virgil just winks and saunters back to the couch.

 “Stellar performance, Dark and Stormy,” Roman declares, giving Virgil a round of applause, “truly excellent.”

 “Well done,” Logan says, “that was quite the display of self-confidence.”

 Virgil just lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “Eh. Easy dare. My turn now, right?”

 “Indeed.”

 Virgil narrows his eyes, glancing between the two of them. “Princey. Truth or dare?”

 “Dare,” Roman answers immediately, “what kind of prince would I be if I turned down a challenge?”

 Virgil smirks. “Alright, then. You have two minutes to make Patton redder than I did.”

 “Done.”

“Virgil,” Logan chides lightly as Roman prances off toward the kitchen.

 “Relax,” Virgil says, settling in to watch, “it’s not like he’s gonna hurt him.”

 “No, he’s just going to fluster him with the end goal of rendering him inarticulate.”

 Virgil smirks. “Exactly. Now shut up and watch.”

 “Oh, Addie,” Roman calls, smirking at the way Patton startles.

 “Oh, um, hey, Roman, um, what do you want?”

 “I just want to talk to you, Patton.”

 “Oh goodness,” Patton mumbles, already covering his face as Roman crowds him against the counter, “don’t say my name like that, that’s really mean!”

 Roman’s eyes gleam. “Dearest, if you wanted me to call you pet names instead, you only had to ask, my sweet, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

 “No!”

 Roman just smirks, bracing his hands on either side of him. “No? Then what should I call you, gorgeous?”

 Any reply is too muffled for Logan to hear. Virgil snickers as Roman sighs dramatically.

 “Fine, I’ll just have to call you by your lovely, lovely name.” He leans forward to try and peer through the gaps in his fingers. “Almost as lovely as you.”

 He chuckles when Patton whines again, spluttering like a fish out of water. “You’re so cute when you’re at a loss for words.”

 “What do you want?”

 “Oh, I was dared to make you redder than Virgil did.”

 “Why?”

 “Because you’re absolutely stunning, darling,” Roman answers easily, “and it’s stunningly easy to flirt with you.”

 “It is not!”

 Virgil snorts and Logan raises an eyebrow. Roman’s smirk widens.

 “Of course is it, cutie pie,” he coos, “all I have to do is this.”

 “N-no, don’t do that,” Patton stammers, trying to cover his face with a dish towel, only for Roman to catch his hands and effortlessly pull them out of the way, lacing their fingers together and holding them against the counter.

 “What’s the problem, sweetie?” He gently blows a strand of hair out of Patton’s face. “Is it just that I’m…right here? Talking like this to you? Is that it, honey?”

 “Mmm!”

 “Hmm?” Roman tilts his head. “What’s that, cutie?”

 “It’s not even flirting,” Patton manages, still looking as if he’s trying to sink into the counter.

 “I’m not even saying anything, cutie,” Roman coos, “and there’s nothing I enjoy better than being able to render you speechless like this.”

 Logan has to admit, Roman’s teasing is enough to make him shift on the couch, a slight flush rising unbidden to his face. Judging by the way Virgil starts fiddling with the strings on his hoodie, he’s not immune to it either.

 It really should not be that much of a surprise that Roman is one of the most proficient flirters in the Mindscape. Romance, passion, and desire all fall under his purview. And yet, here they all are, slowly growing more and more flustered.

 “Okay,” Virgil mutters just loud enough for Logan to hear, “Princey’s getting me and he’s not even trying.”

 “I concur.” Logan adjusts his tie and glances at his watch. “Thirty seconds.”

 “Come on.” Roman tugs gently at the towel in Patton’s hands. “You have to show me your cute little face, otherwise I won’t know if the dare’s over yet!”

 He finally manages to get the towel away from him and gasps, quickly reaching out to cup his cheeks before he can cover his face again. “Oh, just look at you, you’re even cuter up close!”

  “R-Roman!”

 “Yes, cutie pie?”

 “Let me go!”

 “Go where,” Roman murmurs, pushing Patton gently against the counter, “can you think of anywhere better to be than right here, in my arms, while I tease you silly? Hmm? You’re not even trying to get away, sunshine.”

 “Time.”

 Roman chuckles, stepping back, perching his hands on his hips. “What do you think, redder than Virgil’s go?”

 “Hmm,” Virgil hums, leaning over the back of the couch, “dunno. Can’t see his face from here.”

 “I’m mad at you,” Patton mutters, already covering his face.

 “Aw, no,” Roman purrs, “no you aren’t. Come on, gorgeous, if you don’t show us your face, I’ll just have to do it again!”

 “No.” Patton forces his hands down, making Roman chuckle again. Sure enough, his face is beet red, covering his skin with such intensity that for a moment, Logan worries. Then Virgil snorts.

 “Aww, he’s so cute!”

 “I know, isn’t he?”

 “Oh my goodness.”

 “Virgil,” Logan chides lightly.

 “You’re no fun, teach,” Virgil says, waving a hand, but he concedes. “Yeah, alright, Princey. You win.”

 Roman bows, sweeping his hand in a wide arc, before taking one of Patton’s hands and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

 “Thank you, sunshine.” With a wink, he strides back to the couch and sits down triumphantly. “That was fun!”

 His eyes widen when he sees Logan adjust his glasses nervously and Virgil quickly flips up his hood.

 “Don’t tell me that you got flustered too,” he teases, reaching up to poke Logan’s arm.

 “Enough,” Logan says quickly, “your turn to ask.”

 For a moment, he braces himself for Roman to not, indeed, agree, but then Roman simply pouts and tilts his head up.

 “Logan, dare or dare?”

 Logan blinks. “That is not the game, Roman.”

 “Yeah, but you’re the only one who hasn’t done a dare yet, so…” Roman shrugs. “Dare or dare?”

 “It seems pointless for me to choose between two of the same options,” Logan sighs, “but I will select ‘dare.’”

 Roman tilts his head this way and that, considering Logan. Then he grins.

 “I don’t think it’s fair if we leave Logan out,” he says to Virgil, “do you?”

 “Oh, goodness, hasn’t Patton had enough?”

 Virgil narrows his eyes at him. “So you don’t wanna have a turn?”

 Logan fiddles with his watch. “…I didn’t say that.”

 “Marvelous!” Roman claps his hands. “Oh, don’t be so shy, Logan!”

 “We know you’ve got notebooks full of ways to fluster us, L,” Virgil adds, “you’re good at it, okay?”

 Logan is quite proud of his ability to flirt, although how the others know about his research is a worrying question.

 “So,” Roman says cheerfully, “you have two minutes, but you have a harder job than we did.”

 Logan frowns and Roman’s grin widens.

 “You have two minutes to make Patton melt.”

 “Oh, Logan’s screwed,” Virgil chortles, tugging at his hoodie strings, “he’s so wound up right now.”

 Well.

 Logan gets up, adjusts his tie, and heads for the kitchen, ignoring the way Roman and Virgil scramble up onto the couch to watch.

 Patton’s leaning over the counter, pressing his hand to his forehead. He glances up when Logan enters the kitchen and pauses. Contrary to his previous statement, he doesn’t look upset or angry, simply exhausted.

 “You too, hmm?”

 “I’m afraid so.”

 Patton groans, letting his head drop onto the counter. “Did I do something? Or are you all just bored?”

 “We’re bored,” Virgil shouts, “and you’re cute!”

 “Shh, it’s not your turn anymore!”

 “Shut up, Princey.”

 Logan rolls his eyes fondly, stepping closer. Patton straightens up, waving a hand.

 “Go on. Just get it over with.”

 “And I thought Roman was dramatic,” Logan remarks dryly, “but I am not keeping you here. If you truly wish to leave…”

 He gestures toward the stairs. Patton glances between him and the stairs.

 “…really?”

 “By all means,” Logan says, lowering his voice and leaning against the wall to demonstrate he had no intentions of moving, “be my guest.”

 He watches, carefully keeping his face blank, as Patton starts to edge around the counter. He eyes the little bit of space he’s left and he can see the moment he realizes it’s not enough.

 “Okay,” he says, “I’m gonna go now.”

 “I know.” Logan tilts his head and smiles. “I’m not stopping you.”

 He stops out of his reach and stares at the gap again. One more little push, then.

 “You know…” Logan adjusts his glasses and looks Patton up and down. “You do not seem to be particularly…eager to leave, Patton.” He lets the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk. “Could it be that…you do not wish to leave?”

 Patton takes the bait.

 As soon as Patton gets close enough, Logan hooks his foot around his ankle and blocks his exit, not bothering to hide his smirk this time. “However,” he says quietly, “I do have a task to perform.”

 “You,” Patton mumbles, closing his eyes, “are mean.”

 “Then allow me to make it up to you.” Logan moves, using his weight to push him back into the kitchen. “I have a proposition.”

 “Logan…”

 Logan smiles, leaning against the counter. “Come here.”

 “That sounds awful.” Logan raises his eyebrows. “…okay, okay, I’m coming.”

 Patton stops in front of him, his arms wrapped protectively around his waist. He does indeed look very cute.

 “Touch can be very grounding for you,” Logan says quietly, careful to keep his voice too low for Roman and Virgil to hear, “so if you like, you may cuddle with me for the duration of the two minutes.”

 “…really?”

 “Yes, really.” He holds out one hand, palm up. “Or, you may leave. I won’t stop you this time.”

 He hugs himself tighter, glancing between the stairs and Logan’s hand. He tilts his head.

 “Come here, Patton,” he murmurs.

 He takes his hand.

 He pulls Patton closer, opening his arms and letting him hug him nervously. He hugs him back, creating a little pocket of intimacy apart from the rest of the room.

 “There…” Logan leans down to whisper in his ear. “Isn’t that better? Now you have something to hold onto, something to hide your face, hmm?”

 Patton nods, his face buried in his shoulder.

 The other thing about having Patton in his arms is that he can murmur directly into his ear, which both prevents Roman and Virgil from hearing anything he’s saying and makes flustering him much, much easier. He says as much, smiling when Patton whines and tightens his grip.

 “Do you know what my dare was, Patton?” When he shakes his head, Logan reaches up to gently run his hand through his hair. “It was not, in fact, to fluster you, but to make you melt.”

 “M-melt?”

 “Yes, dear,” Logan smirks when Patton shudders involuntarily. “Do you like the pet names, little one?”

 “Logan…”

 “Shh,” he murmurs, running his hand through his hair again, “it’s quite alright, dear. Physical affection helps you relax, pet names make you feel cared for. It makes sense.

 “You are a sweetheart. No, no, don’t disagree with me,” he hushes, “you are. You care very much about how you can help other people and you do, sweetheart. It follows that having such affections be returned make you feel good.”

 He tightens his grip, cradling his head against his shoulder. “You feel good right now, don’t you, dear?”

 “…yes.”

 “Then, truly, how can you blame us for wanting to call you so many?” Logan tilts his head a little more. “You always get so flustered by it.”

 “No, I don’t…”

 “You clearly do,” he purrs, “you’re not hiding it well, dear. I can feel how warm your face is, pressed into me like that.”

 As he speaks, he feels it grow warmer still. He chuckles.

 “Oh, there’s really no need to be so embarrassed, dear,” he murmurs, “it makes complete sense. Hugs have been proven to decrease stress, reduce blood pressure, and increase the production of oxytocin.“ He smirks. “Quite the addictive drug, no?”

 Patton whines and he runs his hand slowly down his spine, pulling his hips against his.

 “You are smaller than me—“

 “Hey!”

 “—you are, which increases the feeling of protection,” he murmurs, “and safety, and thus you will relax.”

 He draws the word out with deliberate slowness, the end of it turning into a chuckle as he trembles in his hold.

 “That’s it, dear,” he says softly, “relax. Because there’s one more reason you’re going to melt for me.”

 Logan pauses, glancing up to see Roman and Virgil staring at them over the edge of the kitchen counter. He smirks and puts his mouth deliberately close to Patton’s ear.

 “You care for me, don’t you, Patton,” Logan whispers, his breath ghosting over his neck, “you do, don’t you? You care for me.”

 Patton whimpers.

 “Say it, dear,” Logan coaxes, “say you care for me?”

 “…of course I do,” comes the strangled whisper.

 “Of course you do,” he purrs, “of course you do, and here you are…wrapped up in my arms…letting me call you pet names…letting you hide your blush in the crook of  my neck…”

 He shifts one last time, making sure Roman and Virgil can see. Raising his voice slightly, he cups the back of Patton’s head protectively. He glances at his watch.

 “Ready?” He threads his fingers through the baby hairs on the back of Patton’s neck.

 “One…two…three, melt for me, dear.”

 The two minutes run out just as Patton whines and melts into a blushing little puddle in Logan’s arms.

 “Holy shit,” Logan hears Virgil mutter, “he fucking did it.”

 “I’m never underestimating him again.” Roman throws his hands up. “He did it in two minutes.”

 He tightens his grip, his nails scratching the back of his neck. “Good job, dear.”

 And if it makes him shudder and lean into him a little more, well, that’s just something else to add to the notebook.

 It’s cathartic; he can wind them up, make them all flustered, and then open his arms and cuddle them right back down, give them the reassurance of getting all worked up in a safe environment where nothing’s really gonna hurt them. Plus, if they’re too tired to protest when he peppers kisses all over them, that’s just a bonus.

 Janus—the one whose fault this is—is classic spy movie seduction. Textbook. His silver-tongue makes compliments as smooth as his scales and subtle touches that make their heads spin. Pet names, snarky comments, teasing, the lot of it. He knows they have a thing for his voice. All he has to do most of the time is get close and purr and they’re putty in his hands. Sometimes he’ll stay further away where they have nowhere to hide and just watch them squirm. Sometimes he just has to look at them a certain way and they’re gone. He is the embodiment of using the business end of your weapon to homo-erotically tilt up your opponent’s chin. Rivals Roman for how easy it is for him to make them flustered, but unlike Roman, with him, it’s a toss-up. He knows he’s a lot, and odds are, if he’s going to flirt with them, it’s more likely to be for the catharsis reason and less because they’re fun to play with. (Even though they are.) So, if he’s not having a competition with another Side or in a playful mood, he’s much gentler about it than Roman is, he’ll stop a lot sooner or pull them into his lap for cuddles. Or, like Remus, he’ll just touch them, let them hide their face in the crook of his neck, and just run his hands over them. It’s a perfect combination of grounding and flustering. Plus, warmth is good for snakes and there’s nothing warmer than a bright, flushed, flustered face. Totally doesn’t fluster people on purpose to steal their body heat.

 Remus is by far the only side where his approaches are completely different depending on who it is. Virgil is flustered very easily by his innuendos and everything, the more audacious, the better. Sometimes it resorts to the two of them having a flirt-off, the loser hiding their face while the victor cackles. Or Remus will make something that totally isn’t an innuendo into one and Virgil’s gone. For Logan, often he’ll just find him and tackle him onto the nearest surface, flopping down on top of him like a cat and listening as Patton starts verbally vomiting as he gets redder and redder. But overt sexual references make Patton and Janus really really uncomfortable, so it’s the bad kind of flustered. Instead, he’ll just find them and cuddle them and loudly explain how they are in fact the best cuddler. He finds how embarrassed they get very amusing. And if it has the side effect of summoning everyone else to a cuddle pile both because of the outrageous idea that anyone is better at cuddling than them and also free cuddles, well. Oops.

 So yeah. It’s a fucking mess.

 At least it’s a hot mess, right?

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[livesincerely]

inevitability

Part 5 of the Domestic AU (found here)

Also on Ao3

00000

“So, when are you gonna get married?” Tony asks apropos of nothing, looking between him and Davey with keen interest. 

Jack barely manages to keep from choking on his cereal. Davey, who’d been in the middle of spreading a bit of lox on a bagel, slowly sets down his knife.

Charlie aims a kick at Tony under the table. 

“You’re asking them now?” he hisses. “I thought we were gonna ease them into the idea!”

“There is no easing them into the idea when it comes to Jack and Davey,” Tony says, his expression tight with the exasperation of the long suffering. “You gotta give it to ‘em straight, right from the get go, ‘cause they’ll never figure it out on their own.”

“Hey,” Jack says weakly, but he doesn’t have a leg to stand on and they all know it.

“So, I’m asking,” Tony determinedly continues as if Jack hadn’t said anything. “When are you gettin’ married?”

There’s a long pause where he and Davey just stare at each other, neither of them quite sure how to respond.

He gets this from you, Davey’s expression says, clear as day.

I know he does, Jack says with a commiserating look, holding back a sigh.

“Well?” Tony demands when the silence stretches on for too long.

“It’s a little soon to be thinking about marriage,” Davey eventually says, far more delicately than Jack would’ve managed. “We haven’t talked about it at all yet⁠—”

“Because we only just got together yesterday, Tony,” Jack dryly interjects. “In case you forgot about that little detail.”

“—And we should probably start with the question of if we want to get married before we jump to the when,” Davey concludes.

Tony’s nose scrunches up, obviously dissatisfied with this answer.

“Of course you’re gonna get married,” he says, as if this is plainly obvious. “You’re basically married already, I just wanna know when the wedding’s gonna be.”

“Um.” Davey’s gone faintly pink. “Well, like I said, Jack and I haven’t talked about anything like that yet. We’re comfortable the way we are now, no need to rush into anything⁠—”

“And since we literally only just got together yesterday,” Jack says again, a little more emphatically, just to make sure the point lands, “getting married right off the bat would be all kinds of crazy.”

Tony levels him with the flattest look in all of existence. “You’re crazy if you think you haven’t already been married to Davey for years.”

Jack’s voice catches in his throat, a little blindsided by the frank truth of that statement. Davey’s mouth opens and closes, the rosy flush of his cheeks shading a touch deeper. 

“We’re not thinking about gettin’ married just yet,” Jack says once he’s steadied himself, in a tone that brooks no further arguments. “Dave and I will talk about it when the time comes, if⁠,” he stresses clearly, “we decide that’s what we want.”

“But what, exactly, is holding you back?” Tony asks, stubbornly brooking further arguments anyway. “Like, do you have any actual reasons?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s none of your business,” Jack snipes back. “Given that that’ll be a conversation between me and Davey.”

“I just don’t understand what the big deal is,” Tony says, crossing his arms across his chest. “Pretty much nothing would change, except that the next time someone assumes that you two are married, they’d actually be right instead of simply noticing what was so obvious that even complete strangers clue in to it⁠—”

“Tony,” Jack groans.

“—coming to the perfectly reasonable conclusion that you’re together⁠—”

“Tony, that’s enough, we get it,” Jack says.

“—instead of the inexplicable reality of the situation which was that you were, in fact, not together, despite being in love with each other for eight entire years because you’re idiots⁠—”

Jack covers his face with his hands.

“—and given that, like, every aspect of your lives are already tangled together, it’s not really that big of a step for you to just go ahead and make it official.”

Jack sighs so hard he feels it in his bones. “If we promise to talk about this, will you please stop talking about it?”

“Eight years, Jack!” Tony cries, impassioned. “That’s half of my life! That’s more than half of Charlie’s life!”

“Do not bring me into this,” Charlie quickly interjects, “I am a passive witness and nothing more.”

“You’re such a fucking turncoat, Choo-Choo,” Tony mutters with no real heat. “You’re supposed to have my back on this.”

“Maybe if you could ever actually stick to a plan,” Charlie grumbles back.

“We will talk about it,” Jack says loudly, interrupting their bickering before it can gain any ground. “Okay?”

There’s a moment of blessed silence. 

Then Tony says, “So, like, right now? Or…?”

“Sure!” Jack says, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Why not? Clearly, I’m not gonna get any fucking peace until this is sorted—

“Finally!” Tony exclaims. “God, was that so hard?”

“—So go away,” Jack finishes.

Tony’s mouth falls open.

“What do you mean, go away?” he protests, looking genuinely shocked. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I’m not gonna let you sit here and fucking… moderate our conversation, dumbass,” Jack sputters. “Get out!”

“But I really feel like this is the kind of conversation that needs moderating,” Tony disagrees. “It’s not like either of you have a great track record for effective communication⁠—”

“Anthony Ethan Higgins,” Jack warns, nearly at the end of his rope. 

Tony rolls his eyes so hard his whole body moves with the motion. “I am literally just trying to help, you don’t gotta get all defensive about it⁠—”

“Jesus Christ, Tony,” Jack says, completely and utterly done. “Will you please just⁠— Just go somewhere that isn’t here.”

“But are you gonna talk about it?” Tony insists, really digging in his heels. “Because if you’re just gonna not talk about it the second I leave then I think I should⁠—”

“Tonio, juro por Dios—”

“Tony, honey,” Davey finally steps back into the fray, far calmer than he has any right to be, and somehow, miraculously, Tony’s mulish expression softens into something a little chagrined. Jack gapes, wrong-footed by the sudden change. “I think you’ve made your point and given Jack more than enough heart attacks for one morning, yeah? So why don’t you go ahead and give us a few minutes, and I promise we’ll talk about it.”

Tony deflates. “Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Tony shuffles away, mollified for now. Davey pauses, then says, “Charlie, that means you too.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Charlie protests. “I’m just sittin’ here, tryin’ to eat.”

He takes an exaggerated bite of his bagel as if to prove his point, eyes extra wide and innocent.

“Charlie.”

“But my food!”

“Take it with you,” Davey suggests, very patiently.

Charlie looks as though that thought hadn’t occurred to him.

“Okay,” he says, scooping up his plate and scurrying after his brother. He hesitates in the doorway, then adds, “My vote is for an autumn wedding, if that counts for anything.”

“Charlie.”

“Going!”

Once he’s sure they’re both gone, Jack heaves another massive sigh.

“They’re such a pair of little shits,” he says, to Davey and the world at large. “Fucking hell.”

Davey takes a drink of his coffee, holding out his other hand to Jack in offering. Jack reaches over and laces their fingers together, most of his irritation slipping away in an instant at the simple contact.

“But he is right, you know,” Davey comments.

“I know he’s right,” Jack grumbles, rubbing his thumb gently over Davey’s knuckles. “Don’t mean he ain’t a little shit.”

“Well, naturally,” Davey agrees. “He was raised by you.”

“Oh, please,” Jack says with a snort. “That little spiel of his was all you. ‘The inexplicable reality of the situation,’' he echoes, shaking his head. “It was like hearin’ your voice comin’ outta Tony’s mouth.”

“And it was a well thought-out argument,” Davey says pertly, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a wry little grin. “His timing could use some work, though.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” Jack says, huffing out a breath. “Didn’t even let us finish eating before he pounced.”

“It has been eight years,” Davey says, and he’s definitely holding back a laugh. “Guess he’s afraid of a repeat performance.”

“Well....” Jack trails off with a shrug, because that part’s hard to argue with. More than half of Charlie’s life, Jesus. “Yeah, but he was talkin’ like he expected us to walk down the aisle this afternoon. I mean, we can’t just get married. You don’t just get married.”

“Most people don’t,” Davey says, tilting his head. “But then, we aren’t really most people, are we, darling?”

It takes a moment for this statement to really register for Jack⁠, and when it finally does, it lands with an earth shattering boom.

“Are you sayin’ you’d marry me?” Jack asks, utterly floored, heart pounding an unsteady rhythm in his chest.

“Are you asking me?” Davey asks, calmly sipping his coffee like he isn’t rocking Jack’s world, right here over breakfast, for the second time in not even two days.

“You want to marry me?”

This makes Davey pause. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to marry you?” he asks, a confused little furrow forming between his brows.

“Stop answerin’ all of my questions with questions,” Jack demands, a wealth of feelings bubbling furiously in his chest. “Just— You’re serious? Like, you’d really just— Just like that?”

Davey looks at him, his eyes bright blue and utterly sincere. 

“Just like that,” he softly agrees. “If you asked.”

“Well, I’m not askin’,” Jack snaps. His face colors immediately: “No, I didn’t mean it like— It’s just, I don’t want to seem, I don’t want’cha ta think—“

Davey reaches up and gently presses two fingers to Jack’s lips, and Jack’s sputtering slows to a halt.

“Breathe, darling,” Davey says, and the tightness in Jack’s throat eases in the face of Davey’s warm, steady gaze. “What’s got you so worked up about this? I get that it wasn’t what we were expecting to have to talk about this morning, but you seem… upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Jack says.

Davey keeps looking at him.

“...Maybe I’m freaking out a little bit,” Jack allows.

“Talk to me,” Davey prompts, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

Jack licks his lips, then blurts, “You know that I’m, like, wholly and unshakably in love with you, right?”

Davey blushes, a dash of red pooling high in his cheeks and cutting across the bridge of his nose, his fingers curling even tighter around Jack’s own. 

“Perhaps not in those exact words,” Davey murmurs, smiling as he stares down at their joined hands. Even his ears have turned red⁠—it’s kind of wonderful. “But I had something of an inkling, yes.”

“And you know that if it was just about commitment, if it was just about wanting to, I’d marry you in a heartbeat,” Jack continues. “We could go down to the courthouse today, if it was just that. I’ve been ready for you⁠—for us⁠—for years, sweetheart. I love you. You get that, don’tcha?”

Now it’s Davey’s turn to go speechless.

“Oh,” he says. “I… that’s…” 

“But it’s not just about wanting to,” Jack says. “It’s not about being ready.”

“Then what’s it about, Jackie?”

“It’s about makin’ sure we do this right,” Jack explains. “‘Bout makin’ sure I do this right.”

Davey’s eyes sweep over his face, searching, then his expression turns tender.

“Jack,” he says, his voice full of affection. “You don’t have anything you need to prove to me. Not a single thing.”

“But I do, cielito,” Jack disagrees. “I need you to know that I don’t take you for granted. That you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That I’d do anything and everything for you. That I love you.”

He lifts Davey hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“When I propose to you, and I am gonna propose to you one day,” Jack says, intently, holding Davey’s gaze, “It’s gonna be special. It’s gonna be sappy. I’m gonna make sure you understand how absolutely, stupidly in love with you I am. I’m going to sweep you off your fucking feet, because you deserve that, Dave. You deserve all of that and more.”

“Jack,” Davey breathes. “Jackie.”

“So I’m not askin’,” Jack finishes. “Not yet. Not today.”

Davey’s smile is a beautiful thing. 

“But one day,” he says, leaning in to press their foreheads together, 

“One day,” Jack confirms, and he seals the promise with a gentle kiss. “One day.”

00000

Tag List: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @corbinthecowboy @stroopwafeldetective @amillionandonefandoms

[master-sass-blast]

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

[cappsikle]

just a bunch of fools (in love) // george weasley

Request: omg !!! could you please do a continuation for “just a bunch of fools” where george asks reader to marry him 🥺🥺🥺 <3

read the first part here! 

Pairing: george weasley x reader

Summary: the world seems so dark and heavy, but george doesn’t want to do this with anyone but you

Warnings: nope! 

Word Count: 1.7k 

A/N: I’m soooo sorry that this took so long! I had major writer’s block I just hope you like it!

(I’m just gonna say it now, the ending is trash because I just wanted to get it out for you, I’m so sorry >_<)

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

-------

Everyone at the Burrow was tense, all still dealing with the aftermath of the attack at the wedding. That was also the night Harry, Ron and Hermione left, along with Bill and Fluer who created a safe house for themselves and members of the Order. So, in the end, it was only you, the twins, ginny, Molly and Arthur who remained at the Burrow until it was time to move to a safer location. No one really spoke to each other, not being able to find the words. What exactly can you say that will make the situation better? The minister of magic was dead, and the ministry had been taken over. You were struggling to grasp anything that resembled hope, it managing to just slip through your fingers. 

Your heart was heavy, dread settling into the pit of your stomach as you sat on the couch in front of the fire. Everyone else had retired to bed, but you just couldn’t sleep, so instead you left George in his bed to sit down and think. Though in hindsight, thinking probably wasn’t the best thing you could do, as you did tend to overthink. What was going to happen next? Where would you go? Are Harry and the others ok? The deeper you went into your thoughts, the more unaware you became of your surroundings, which resulted in you practically jumping out of your skin when you felt a pair of hands over your shoulders.

“shit!” you jumped up from the couch, a hand over your chest as you tried to tame your rapidly racing heart, “George, you scared me!”

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to,” you nodded slowly and sat back down, George following and sitting next to you, “what are you doing up so late anyway?”

You shrugged your shoulders, bringing your knees up to your chest and placing your chin in the little divot between them. “just couldn't sleep, yakow... with everything going on.” George nodded his head in understanding, pursing his lips as he got lost in thought. He could see the toll the war had taken on you, effecting your ability to eat and sleep normally. He just wished he knew what to do or say that could make you feel better, but George too was struggling to see the light at the end of this very long and very dark tunnel.

“Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea, maybe?”

You smile sweetly at him and nodded gently, “that would be nice, thank you.” you leaned up and gently placed a kiss to his lips as he rose from his seat, making his way to the kitchen.

Putting the kettle to boil, George looked at you from his place at the kitchen, just taking the time to admire you and your features. From the way your hair fell into your eyes, soft from the light of the fire and the evident tiredness to the little dimple only present on your right cheek even from the smallest of movements from your tempting lips. If there was one thing George knew for sure, it was that in a time where the world was batshit crazy, you were the one that gave him hope for a better future, a future together. That's when he got the idea.

As if electrocuted from a spark, George raced off upstairs towards his room, although he was very careful not to make any noise that would wake his sleeping family. Practically overflowing with nerves and excitement, George ever-so-carefully pushed his door open, squeezing in and tiptoeing to avoid waking up Fred. He walked over to his bedside table and grabbed the little velvet box sitting in the drawer, turning it over in his hands. Was he really about to do this? Was he sure that this is something you’d want, to get engaged right in the middle of a war?  

“So, you’re finally going to do it?” George swore his heart literally jumped out of his chest at the sound of his twin’s tired and barely-awake voice, fumbling with the box as it almost fell out of his grasp. He turned around to face Fred sitting up on the bed, a tired and lazy smirk on his lips.

“Christ, mate! Warn a guy next time, will you?” Fred chuckled at his brother’s frightened state before his eyes trailed down towards what was in George’s hands.

“I said, are you finally going to do it?” George looked down as well, his lips twitching to a small smile at the sight.

“Yeah, I think I am,”

“Are you sure now of all times is the best idea?”

George looked up at his twin, his other half, as he mulled over his words whilst getting up to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “Look, mate, I’m not sure what’s going to happen over the next few months, but I can’t bear the thought of going through this without the promise that we’ll be together. I love her, more than anything,” Fred looked at his brother, the one person he could count on no matter what, and the solemn look that took over his face. No matter what, he would support his brother’s decision and stand by him with anything, he only wanted to see his brother happy, and he knew that you were the person to make it happy.

Fred nudged George’s shoulder with his elbow, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Look, whatever you do, I support you, and everyone else will too”

George’s face lifted up a bit, grateful for his brother’s words. “I just hope I don’t get rejected,” he said in a joking manner, but there was a hint of seriousness in his voice. What if you do rejected him? Surely you wouldn’t, he hoped.

“I can say with a hundred percent certainty that you will not. You lot are perfect for each other.”

“Thanks, mate.” George smiled up his twin, feeling the energy return with a newfound excitement from his twin’s encouraging words.

“Don’t mention it. Now hurry up and go down there, you left the poor thing hangin’”

George jumped up from the bed, rushing to get downstairs back to you with the box held tightly in his hand. You smiled when you saw George’s lanky figure come back down the steps, dressed in his plaid pajama pants and a plain t-shirt. Noticing George practically bouncing on the spot, you get up from your position on the couch and walk over to him, curious. “What’s got you jumping about the place? You’re basically vibrating,” you chuckled up at him, but your smile fell as you noticed nerves pinching his face, “y’lright, love?”

Just when George thought he couldn’t possibly fall any more in love with you, he was proven wrong upon seeing your concerned face for something as miniscule as feeling nervous. “Y-yeah, ‘m alright,” George looked down at his feet sheepishly, thankful you hadn’t noticed that he was very visibly hiding something behind his back. “Why don’t you come outside with me?”

“Outside? What for?” George raised his head as a sly smirk snaked its way across his lips.

“C’mon, I’ll make it worth your while.” with that, George grabbed your hand and took you through the back door, the light from the inside spilling out to the chilly air.

“George, what’s going on?” you ask curiously, a tint of worry in your voice. You cross your arms over your chest in a futile attempt at warding off the breeze, goosebumps rising on your exposed skin. The cold seemed to have melted away, however, when George grabbed one of your hands from your chest and sunk himself down onto one knee, his other hand still behind his back.

He knew in the grand scheme of things, now was probably a rubbish time to do something like this, but he wanted to have that security that you’d still be his after everything is over. You were confused, what was he doing? He couldn’t be doing... that... right? 

“(Y/N) …” George started, already feeling his start emotions catch up to him. “You are... the best thing that could ever have happened to me. I never thought that in a million years I could have found someone to be like you. Someone so kind, so passionate and so loving, someone willing to do anything and everything to protect those you love without a second thought...”  

George stopped his little speech to gather his thoughts and keep himself from crying. All the while you’re standing there in complete shock. How long had he been planning to do this? You knew what you wanted to say, heck you probably would’ve even said it two years ago. You knew George was who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, and you would be lying if you hadn’t had dreamt this exact scenario multiple times.  

“I remember when we first met at Kings Cross in our third year, where I ran into you and knocked you off of your feet and said some stupid pick-up-line as a failed attempt of an apology... and the rest is history. I know now isn’t the most ideal time to be doing something like this, being in the middle of a war and all, but maybe it’s because of it that now is a perfect time...” George trailed off with a chuckle, gripping your hand tighter. 

Your hand shook in his as he brought the small box out from behind his back, opening it up to reveal a simple gold band with a small diamond in the middle, but you barely spared it a glance. You were entranced by George’s eyes, filled with so much love and emotion. You couldn’t believe this was happening right now. George was actually asking you to marry him. With tears in his eyes and his voice caught in his throat, he asked the final question.

“Will you, my best friend, my soulmate, do me the absolute honor of marrying me?”

You nodded your head excessively, tears shamelessly spilling from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. You could barely speak, your words stuck in your throat as you choked up. So instead you flung your arms around his neck, bringing your lips close to his ear and spoke the next words with as much love adoration as you could.

“Yes.”

----------

yikes so that ending was very trash but it’s ok because our baby isn’t. Anyways I hope you guys enjoyed that!! Once I got passed the writers block it was enjoyable to write! 

As always my requests are open so please don’t be shy!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

- Mills <3

[looking-glass-ties]

Hello! Can i ask for a mclennon fic some sort of fight/trouble/accident with paul and john being protective? Tysm!

thanks for being my first askbox submission!!! i appreciate it a lot :) it took a bit longer than expected i’m sure so i’m sorry!

no warnings needed: fluff & kissing

if anybody else wants to request somethin just fire away!! (i won’t do scat, noncon, or ageplay)

The First Time Paul Threw Rocks At John’s Window

It was about 3am. John Lennon was asleep in his single bed, having a dream about something that didn’t necessarily matter. Because he immediately forgot about it whenever he awoke to the sounds of an irregularly timed tapping at his window.

He groaned and swung his feet over his bed so he could sit up. Then he reached over to turn on his bedside lamp. John glanced at his glasses, thinking for a moment maybe he should put those on to see what was going on outside, but he ultimately decided against it.

He walked over to his window and stood there for a second, obviously still in a haze from his previous sleep. But the noise came again, and this time a bunch of small taps happened consecutively. He drew back his curtain and pulled up his window, peering out of it to see what the cause was.

“Hey...John?” a voice whisper-yelled, and just by his voice John already knew it was Paul. However, it was dark outside, and his vision was terribly bad. So he ran over to put on his glasses; now he would be able to see Paul clearly.

“Paul...Don’t ya know it’s late?” John replied back, his voice barely breaking through a whisper. Paul’s expression was what John noticed first, and it was one of concern. But then John flicked his eyes to Paul’s lips, and there he noticed it had to have been bleeding. He examined his clothes and could tell they were disheveled, and Paul usually kept his shirt tucked in.

“Oh, well I can go,” Paul went to turn around, but John shook his head frantically.

“No! Stop it, love...Are y’bleedin’? What even happened?” John really had no clue if his examination was right, but he still had to ask. Because if Paul was, he would be down the steps to assist him inside in three seconds flat.

“Got into a fight,” was Paul’s simple answer, causing John to sigh. Of course he had gotten into a fight. Paul didn’t want to go home because his father would kill him if he could see the fresh busted lip he had. John would be of help to him, considering they were best mates.

“Hang on, I’m gonna let ya in.”

Closing the window, John grinned to himself. Paul had chosen him to help him out in a time of need. They really must be close, after all.

Even though it was late and Mimi was surely asleep John still hopped down the stairs. She was a heavy sleeper, so unless there was pounding on her door there was no way to make her wake up on such short notice.

He opened the door to reveal Paul, and John nearly could’ve cried. What he couldn’t see from the upstairs window were now on full display face to face. Not only was his top lip bleeding, but it was clear that his nose previously bled as well. “Christ, Macca,” John pulled him in by his hand, and shut the door behind him. “We gotta clean that up, don’t ya think?”

Paul shrugged, wiping his eye with the other unoccupied hand. John didn’t know if he’d been crying or not, but he pulled that same hand all the way to the restroom to turn on the light in there. Once they got in the room, John shut the door.

“Aright, now what fuckin’ happened, Paulie?” John asked, now that they were in their own confinement.

Paul shook his head, not really seeming like he wanted to disclose the details. That left much to John’s imagination.

“Did someone try t’mug you?”

Paul shook his head once more, turning to look in the mirror for the first time since the incident. He physically winced at the appearance of himself all bloodied, and John turned him back to look into his eyes. “It’s all okay now, love,” he soothed, a hand tilting his head up by his chin. “I got ya.”

(John wanted to kiss him now, but he didn’t know if it would hurt his lip or not.)

Instead, he just moved Paul towards the back of the bathroom so he could sit him down on the toilet seat. Paul licked his lips and tasted that bitter taste of iron, and now more than ever John wished he only knew what happened to the poor, beautiful boy. But he didn’t, so he could only help with what Paul needed right now: first aide.

John got a wash rag from the rack and turned on the sink to drench it with cold water. Once it was fully wet, he turned off the sink and wrung it out for the most part.

He dabbed it on Paul’s lip first, collecting the dried blood from it.

“When did this happen?” John inquired. He wanted to paint a mental timeline for when this took place.

“An hour ago, maybe longer than tha’,” Paul mumbled under the rag, but John still understood him nonetheless. “I’ll be okay now, though. ‘Cause I know you’ll help me, John.”

“‘Course I’d help you,” John assured his best friend who he sometimes kissed. He folded over the rag and was now cleaning up his bloody nose. “But Paul. Just tell me please...Who did this to you?”

Paul simply couldn’t tell him, because that would only stir up problems within his household. His dad didn’t mean to, he was just drunk on hard liquor. He must have confused him with someone else. Those things just happened sometimes, but it was kind of shocking because it came out of nowhere. One second his dad was coming in the door, the next he was being punched in the face. With no explanation. Paul couldn’t tell John because John would try to do something. He would have to concoct up a lie.

“Alright. Fine. I didn’t wanna tell ya ‘cause it’s embarrassing...But Mike did it,” he lied, praying that John wouldn’t dare question him further. “So I walked here to get out of the house. I can’t hurt me little brother.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” John wouldn’t have that answer. “Did your da’ do this? Was he fuckin’ drunk and come in hittin’ you?”

“No! It wasn’t, I promise it was Mike! I couldn’t hit him back, John! It’s all right! I promise!” Paul’s eyes seemed to plead with John, almost begging him to believe him. But he didn’t want to invoke Paul, even though he could see by the damage done to his face that it had to have been somebody grown to have hit him like that. At the same time, he knew he loved Paul, but his and his father’s business wasn’t John’s, no matter how much he wished it was. He couldn’t step between a father and son who still lives at home. It may cause a huge uproar and that wasn’t ideal. He wanted to keep Paul in his band and berating his father wouldn’t make that happen. Jim would make sure John never sees him again. John would do something to Jim; he just didn’t know what yet. It would have to be in a way that nobody could tell what he’d done, make whatever small thing he would do to the man look like an accident. He’d have to go over the plan more later. For now he was just going to be attentive to the boy before him, hurt and honestly still scared.

Once John was done cleaning up the fresh wound, he got down on his knees to be face to face with the boy sitting down on the toilet. It made his stomach turn that his pretty Paulie was really hurt like this. His top lip was red and the split in the skin there was still open, as little of a cut there was anyway.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like tha’?” Paul blushed, arms instinctively wrapping around John’s neck. They’ve been in situations like this before, being so close. They kissed all the fucking time, but right now, in this bathroom, Paul just had the feeling that this night was different.

“Hurts me seein’ your lip like that,” John replied, staring deeply into his eyes. God, his eyes were so perfect to John. His eyes, nose, lips. Everything about his face just made him swoon for the lad, though he knew it was wrong. “And I—I think I may love ya. Can’t stop lookin’ at ya ‘cause you’re still so pretty, busted lip or not...” He tried to joke around, his playful side always seeming to break loose.

He leaned into him and placed a kiss on Paul’s forehead, tilting him up by his chin using his two main fingers. “You can’t possibly still think that. It looks so bad, Johnny…”

“No…You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Paul. N-no matter what. Always did think tha’, you know.”

Paul blinked a few times, simply locking his gaze into John’s as if nobody else in the world but him mattered. He hurriedly smashed his lips against the older, completely disregarding the fact that his top lip was busted. John tried to kiss him slow and steady, but Paul wanted it full of desire and lust. He moaned into the kiss and entangled his fingers in the auburn hair before him. John was the first to press his tongue against the boy’s, and allowed them to swirl around each other’s mouths. This kiss was definitely the most heated one they’ve ever had, and probably the most meaningful. It wouldn’t ever be the same from this day forward.

[elffees]

some little additions to the ep 5 endings for low brotherhood

oh this post is going to hurt but i’m doing it anyway. these are just some brainstorms on tweaks to the endings bc for the most part, they all come off as high brotherhood, which is fine for me tbh bc i have never played a LB route cause im Soft™️. but i’m also Curious™️ and thought up some variations that couldve been made for people that did have a LB playthrough

these are mostly tiny changes. nothing too major bc like in canon, i think morality having the highest affect on Cross vs. Surrender is fine, but it would’ve been kinda cool if the epilogues had been tweaked a little to reflect brotherhood also. so possible tweaks i thought of is basically what this post is about.

here’s some:

redemption

(sidenote: okay i said the changes were mostly little and i promise they are. this ending specifically tho just has the most significant ones i’ve made by adding in like 2 extra scenes. but that’s really it)

in this ending things are the same when they reach the road block, including daniel tearing up, until sean says “you’re my brother”. they do not exchange i love yous nor hug or touch foreheads. sean goes straight to “and i know it’s gonna be alright” while keeping an outstretched arm on daniel’s shoulder. daniel also goes straight to his “how do you know”. the car scene plays out the same from then on except without hugging. they mostly stay separately in each other’s seats.

daniel doesn’t panic and jump to his feet when the police start walking sean to the car. he stands up resigned and watches sadly but quietly. sean doesnt say anything as he gets in the car but does look back at daniel before they pull off

in the collage, there is still a picture of daniel visiting sean in prison, but they don’t hug and just speak tensely across from one another.

daniel doesn’t come on the day of sean’s release, karen is the only default. now, like lyla, daniel is a determinant. (imagine if they were all determinant and even karen didn’t come meaning sean could get out of jail with nobody in the world caring about him jesus christ) there’s a scene with sean afterwards visiting daniel’s apartment. when daniel opens the door, he’s shocked and slams a palm to his forehead, clearly having forgot sean’s release date.

there’s small polite smiles on their faces as they greet each other at the door, but sean never makes it past the front steps. their conversation is brief before daniel gestures that he actually was walking out and has to go. they say their goodbyes with a casual hug (quick back slap) before daniel hops in his car using his power and pulls off with sean watching.

sean still goes back to their first campsite but alone. it mostly plays out the same where he still cries, but with no comfort, and then drives away towards the right after taking one last look at the trail

the epilogue ends with daniel stepping out of his car and approaching faraway friends that he waves to. they’re drawn vague and out of focus to save on production costs (don’t worry dontnod i gotchu). the angle of the scene shifts so it looks like daniel is walking off towards the left

summary (1/2) -> sean took the heat in order to let daniel have a childhood in america. and he succeeds in this, but because their relationship was poor, during his incarceration their bond practically turns to dust. daniel gets a childhood, but sean loses his own and his brother in return

summary (2/2) -> sean still wants some kind of relationship with his brother, but its awkward and distant. daniel does not hate sean. he holds some semblance of polite respect for him bc in his HM!eyes sean “did the right thing” at the end of their journey. but overall, they are not that close and are more like acquaintances who just worked on a group project one time.

blood brothers

sean doesn’t say “be careful” before daniel gets out the car. just “you know what to do”

they don’t hold hands after daniel’s massacre. daniel just stares out the window while sean focuses ahead

(after the 6 years) when sean backs into the garage and daniel sees he’s being held at gunpoint, daniel doesn’t do anything at first. he doesn’t even move forward to get a better look. he simply watches the scene play out until the gang members notice he’s there, bc sean keeps glancing his way, and they begin to threaten him too. that is when he uses his powers.

sean giving daniel a pat on the shoulder? yeah in this LB version it’s now a shove. he noticed that daniel did not have his back. daniel just shrugs.

he still heads out to their patio and takes a seat. the scene is angled so that the player sees sean over daniel’s shoulder think about joining him, wanting to go smoke, with their dad’s lighter already out so we still see it. but he instead waves his hand dismissively and turns back into the shop.

daniel stares out towards the beach alone.

summary -> they gain freedom and escape to mexico, but their relationship is empty. there’s no polite respect, but there’s no outright animosity either. it’s just….. empty.

lone wolf

daniel doesn’t say the “it’s my turn to take care of us” line (omg it was so good tho). it’s now smthg along the lines of “i won’t let you stop me here after all this”

when saying the “we made it” set of lines, he’s still happy but also boastful, ready to hold it over sean that he was right

he doesn’t cry. instead of sobbing over the death of his brother, he is more shocked bc of how unexpected it is. he still calls out for sean’s name frantically, but does not get distraught afterwards. instead of leaning onto sean’s arm like he does in canon, after it sinks in that sean’s dead, he only grimaces while sitting uncertainly in his seat

the pictures stay the same

when sitting on the beach and looking over the ocean, he is not drawing in sean’s journal. he still has a small smile on his face but we also see him taking swigs of the beer can(?) here instead of later

also instead of a teardrop tattoo, he has a tattoo of 3 dots. the teardrop has several meanings, including death of a loved one or crime affiliation. but bc a lot of players interpreted it as being a tear for sean, then i think it’s preferable to just not have it in the LB version at all to avoid confusion and just have him with the 3 dots to make it clear it’s solely part of the gang/crime lifestyle

(moving on) daniel heads over to sean’s memorial and it is absolutely not as decorated as it is in canon. there is only 1 candle and no plants. the brick is still there but instead of a cross, it’s just a hastily laid single wooden plank with sean’s name scribbled down it. there’s no eye patch. the only thing of sentimental value there is their dad’s lighter.

daniel doesn’t sit, he stands looking at the memorial while drinking his beer. he realizes it’s empty tho and lazily litters the can beside sean’s memorial before turning to walk off and as he does he sees the gang.

most of their interaction plays out the same, but while daniel’s walking away instead of sparing the group, it’s clear he kills them as they are all unmoving, us seeing the dude with the gun flop to the ground over daniel’s shoulder. this change is bc personally i interpreted daniel sparing them as a sortve homage to sean’s high morality in this route. as in he’ll still do what needs to be done to survive, but will try to kill as little as possible out of respect for sean’s beliefs. so being as though daniel does not value sean as much in this LB version, he doesn’t care about that and kills them without thought.

summary -> for the most part, daniel still has the relatively content life he does in canon except, going by the now bare minimum memorial and littering, he doesn’t value sean’s memory nearly as much as he does in HB. sean’s death was ofc still a shock and smthg he still remembers, but it didn’t crush him like it does HB!daniel, and he honestly feels more annoyance than regret. in his LM!eyes, hes disappointed and thinks its a little stupid that sean wanted to switch gears at the border like that. he doesn’t hate him tho, he just sees sean as a disappointing memory.

parting ways

at the border daniel still cries, but instead of saying sorry to sean he says “i can’t do this sean. i have to go”, making it extra clear he’s not crying bc it’s the end, he’s crying bc of the damage he does not want to do.

he still says the “i hope you’ll be happy” line, but instead of being genuine it’s now full of disappointment with a twinge of bitterness

you know that quick angry facial expression he has before he’s walked off by the cops? WELL HOWDY IT DEFINITELY STAYS

the picture collage still shows him having a relatively happy upbringing with stephen, claire, and chris

when he’s on the phone at the reynolds’ and claire comes up to him, he’s still smiling and content. when he gets the letter with no sender name, his smile drops after taking the pic out and realizing who it’s from. the player doesn’t see yet tho. emphasis on 1 pic bc it’s not several like it is in canon/HB.

daniel rolls his eyes and with his power tosses the envelope & photo card (no sand btw) across the room so they land on a distant table. the camera zooms in on them and we finally see it’s of sean in mexico.

when claire comes back into the room, she halts seeing the mail and picks them up, glancing between them and daniel regretfully before sitting down

we go back to daniel and with arms crossed, he glances out at the tree in the yard for a brief moment before walking away

the scene stays focused on the tree and we still zoom out to the Wolf Brothers carving, except it has a not-recent slash cut through it

summary -> daniel gets a childhood in america and sean gets his freedom in mexico, but their relationship is destroyed. daniel doesn’t approve of sean’s final decision at all and holds little to no respect for him. sean sends the post card bc, like in redemption, he still wishes to hold some kind of relationship, but he doesnt try all that hard and doesn’t miss daniel that much to send several pics and a chunk of sand.

and so these were some of my ideas for low brotherhood endings! i tried to put them in order from most positive (minute respect) to most negative (outright disdain). i’d love to hear thoughts on this or if anyone wants to add to these, then that’s fine to! just don’t break my heart pls

[fangirl-everythang]

Happy Father's Day Part 3

Summary: 3/3 Well, its the last part.

Warning: Sad, Mentions Death.

Word Count: 2269

"Harry? " I answer the phone.

"It's not Harry but glad you know your numbers." that high pitch annoying ass voice squeals. Rubbing my stomach, the baby's in go position and any day now my oven will be done baking. And of course, this bitch is answering his phone.

"Well bye-bye just thought you should know where he was at. " In the background, I hear Harry's voice going on about something so it must be true. Hanging up I sigh letting the hot tears roll down my cheeks. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I blame myself really, I let him back into my life and this doesn't surprise me. I gotta pee.

Waddling over to the bathroom door a gasp leaves my mouth feeling the surge of liquids fall between my legs. Holy shit. My water broke! Fuck gotta go. Thankful my bag was already in the car. Harry had insisted once I hit the 36-week mark claiming Styles's are either early or fashionably late.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. My knuckles turning white as I grasp the wheel. Nope, I'm not pushing anything out of my vagina. Can't do it. I refuse.

The contraction going away after a few brief moments of completely unreasonable pain. Dialing the numbers, I know by second nature, thankfully she picks up on the fourth ring.

"I don't think you should drive y/n"

" Just call 911. I'm almost there! " Gemma ecstatically shouts. She's just like her brother, "Where's Harrold? "

I put the seatbelt on and wince. It's just 28 minutes I can do this. "He's with his whore."

I can hear an audible gasp, "he wouldn't he's so excited for Athena"

"Well I just called him and she answered. " I grunt keeping my eyes on the two lanes ahead of me. Fuck I hate merging lanes people don't know how to drive.

"I'll be at the hospital as soon as possible but my phones gonna-" the line went dead. She did say she was on like 10% oh well.

I can do this just focus y/n. "Hear that baby girl we're almost there, hang on okay Hunny. " I say as a reminder to myself that soon I'll be leaving with another human with me.

6 miles to go that's what I'm talking about, another sharp pain spreads throughout my abdomen while waiting for the light to turn green. "OH COME ON. FOR FUCKS SAKE!" they're getting closer by the minute. Shit. Arriving at a four-way intersection. I'm relieved to be at a red light, the contractions are longer and much more frequent. "Almost there Athena, this is the last light and a straight shot from there."

Abruptly my car is jerked forward with a sharp impact pushing to the oncoming lights. All I see are lights from both directions colliding with my 3,000-pound piece of metal. Sounds of shattering glass and sirens are the last thing I hear before it all fades to black.

||||||||||||||||

Harry's POV

"Has anyone seen Mr. Style's phone?" The helpful aid asked around the dressing room. I could've sworn I put it down for a moment. Y/n could go into labor any minute now and how I am supposed to know. Fuck. I'm stupid.

I was supposed to be here to perform and list nominees and then go back home to y/n. I can't wait to propose to her, she's all I could ever want and she's giving me the most wonderful gift I could ever ask for. Running a hand through my damp hair, the lights really build a sweat, I hear a familiar voice. "Looking for this lover? " she asks slipping my phone into my pocket.

"Good luck at home. " she smiles and winks. Before I could question it she walks away.

Looking down at the device my heart skips a beat, I have 146 missed calls. And I've been gone for 5 hours. Seeing Gemma's name on the screen again I swipe to answer.

"Hell-"

"Harry," she says sniffling.

"Gemma what's wrong? did I miss it? Oh my god I hope not"

"I think it would be best if you came now Harry." she breaks her voice cracking.

"Gem what?"

"Listen Harry, she needs you right now so please." she cries. Not needing another word, I tell Jackson the address and that I need to be there as fast as possible, 45 minutes later we're pulling into the Labor and Delivery section of the hospital.

"Congrats Harry!" Jackson says letting me out at the door. "Thank you!" I beam back at him.

Seeing Gemma, her eyes are puffy with tears still flowing. "Gem what's wro-," a sharp pain to my right cheek stings. Never has Gemma hit me like that, well not since I cut her prom dress. "How could you Harry? Cheat on her again WITH TAYLOR for Christ sakes!" She yells.

"I didn't cheat," I explain to my sister as calm as I can.

She looks at me with wild eyes pulling me into a hallway with fewer people, "Then what happened Harrold?" I clench my jaw instead of speaking, how dare she accuse me of cheating on my pregnant soon-to-be fiancé. Y/n Styles has a great catch don't you think?

"Is she here yet? Gem where are they?" I ask ready to see my new family.

She begins crying again "Harry there was an accident." Those five words make my breathing come to a halt. My heart shatters in a million pieces "Is Y/n okay? What happened?" She begins walking me to a door. "This one," she points. Looking through the glass I see y/n with bruises and cuts to her beautiful face, her stomach nearly deflated from when I last saw her this morning, a cast on a swollen leg of hers, and a sling holding a very damaged arm. Tears brim at my eyes looking at my love on that hospital bed. "She's awake." Gemma walks past me running to the outside.

I gently knock on the door, waiting for a response which I don't get. "Y/n?" I approach her almost as If I were going to help an injured puppy. "Hey love" I smile at her which she glares at me and then turns wincing in pain. "You wanted this didn't you Harry?" I look at her confused. "This is probably great for you, a way out. Well leave." She states using whatever energy she can find.

"Baby I didn't want- I want you and Athena" She breaks down in uncontrollable tears.

"You were with that her and couldn't even bother to pick up your phone!" she screams. "Y/n I wasn-" a knock at the door interrupts my sentence, "Come in" She says glaring at me as a nurse opens the door.

"Hey there Mama, we have a visitor." the nurse wheel in a tiny cart that has a bunch of equipment coming from it. She looks at me and asks Y/n, "Is this dad?" she nods and rolls her eyes. "About time you made it!" She smiles my way. Placing the beautiful baby in front of us. She's so small and fragile. "The doctor will be in shortly to talk to you." She states picking up the tiny child and putting her in Y/n's arm.

"Hi pumpkin," Y/n coos into her ear. "Guess who decided to show?" She smiles, a tear falling from the corner of her eye. She nods her head towards me as I go to hold her. She's so soft and precious. Her small eyes have a gorgeous mix of both mine and Y/n's. She has such a cute round face, I couldn't imagine her looking any different.

"Hi there angel, I'm so sorry I was late." I see a spot dampen on her blanket that surrounds her, knowing that I'm crying. Her small eyes shining like twinkling stars. So small I can feel her fragile body between my large hands.

Another knock before the door opens when several doctors walk in. "Mrs. Y/ln, unfortunately, we have some bad news,"

"Oh, hello there Mr. Styles." They state acknowledging my existence. One of the female doctors places a black and white image on the lighted board illuminating the small figure.

"Unfortunately, due to the accident, Athena has suffered from what we call a fetomaternal hemorrhage."

"What exactly are you saying?" Y/n ask looking at the child still in my arms.

The slightly shorter male doctor points to the image. "This is an abscess of blood in the brain. Unfortunately, the risk is too large to operate. I'd give her another day at most."

"You m-mean," Tears start pouring down her face" I was so scared she was hurt. I-I promise I saw the light it was red, and I-I stopped but," She began heaving losing more air with each word. I gently rub her back as I cradle Athena with one arm.

"She's still being monitored but I'm afraid she won't have much longer." The first doctor breaks the silence. "According to the police report the car that struck you from behind happened to be a drunk driver, Gage Joyce." I can feel the anger surging through me. "I remember the clashing of metal, glass breaking, the sirens but it all went b-black." She mumbles, seemingly remembering the awful experience. I grab her hand in hopes of comforting her but it doesn't seem to work.

"After striking your car at 72 mph it had ample force to push your vehicle into the opposite traffic. Your vehicle took the most impact and was hit by four other cars. On scene, EMT's said you were in and out of consciousness mumbling about a baby. Taken and brought to the L&D." he finishes.

"Fetomaternal hemorrhages are often caused by trauma and sometimes can be revered but in this case, we've done all we can do." They all frown looking at the small girl still in my arms.

"No, there's got to be more you can bloody do! We're in a hospital for Christ sakes!" I exclaim, passing my daughter to the love of my life. She gently caresses her soft skin. She's literally a perfect combination of us. I cannot lose my family.

"You can leave, thank you all for your help." y/n says quietly, they oblige by her wishes and leave us with our daughter.

"Harry," she wipes a tear from her face cautious of the IV placed on her hand, "If what they say is true, I just want to spend time with her." She sniffles. I nod understanding. She looks back at the small being in her arms, "Hi pretty girl, Mommy's so happy to meet you," she unfolds the blanket from her. I sit next to her on the small bed in the room that smells of sterilization. Placing my finger near hers' she wraps her small hand around my thumb, her grip so tight for someone so small. Y/n kisses her forehead, "Harry," she runs her finger along her small legs.

"Can you sing the song?" nodding and softly singing Isn't she Lovely by Stevie Wonder, in the small hospital bed as our new life falls asleep. All night I watch her little chest rise and fall allowing y/n to get some rest soon following my two loves.

By the early morning, nurses are rushing in because of the loud beeping from the monitor, waking y/n and I. It feels like everything is happening so fast but in slow motion right in front of me. Those three words are the ones I didn't want to hear. "No! no. I have to take her home. She's gotta go home..." Y/n screams, not being able to see her face due to the tears in my eyes falling and rebuilding themselves faster than the speed of light. "Call it." One of the nurses shouts.

"Time of Death 6:18 am March 7th, 2019"

As they cleared out the room, I see her small lifeless body curled into a blanket, almost as if she were sleeping, but no longer do breaths fall from her small heart-shaped lips.

//////////////////////////

Y/n hasn't said a word since we got in the car. It's been four days since we lost Athena. She slowly climbs into the car, still sore from the accident and birth. I go to the backseat holding back my emotions and putting the empty car-seat in the trunk of the car that should have been holding three of us.

Starting the silent journey back home she continues to look out of the window, a frown etched on her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks as she instinctively touches her somewhat deflated stomach. What kind of sick joke is this?

"Harry why were you with her?" she asks me looking down at what used to be her baby bump.

"I wasn't love, she took my phone while I was on stage." She just nods and remains silent until we pull up to the flat. She begins walking up the stairs as best she can. "Y/n wait, let me help."

"No Harry!" She yells. Pain evident in her voice, ignoring her I open the door and help her inside. "Harry I can't do this." I stare at her confused, "What can't you do y/n?"

"Us Harry. I can't look at you and not think of her." She sobs.

"Y/n we can-" I try to reason with her.

"No Harry, please just go." She whispers.

"I'm not losing both of you," I state holding back my own sobs. I feel like everything feels like it's getting smaller around me, suffocating in grief.

"You already have."

A/N: What can I say I have a thing for dark endings. Anyways I really appreciate the support loves. I hope you enjoy these! Right now I've been working on a Loki piece, I'm so excited for it. I changed the writing style tho, so it's not 1st person per usual. I think it's going pretty well so far.

xoxo Janelle

[onechicagorpf]

Not A Stranger - Part 2

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Chicago Med intern)

Waking up in bed next to a random naked guy after a drunken night out usually sucks, but eh, whatever. you’ll never see him again, right? Well except this time, random naked guy turns out to be your ED attending’s little brother, so maybe you’re a little bit screwed…

Read Part 1 first here Read Part 3 here Read Part 4 here

Warnings: SMUT. Full-on, R-rated smut! Swearing, the usual cuss words. Dubious medical content, lol, because I don’t know a thing about medicine!

Your knuckles rap against the wooden door.

“C’mon, c’mon,” You whisper under your breath, your right leg shaking restlessly. Your heart feels like its in your throat, and you honestly feel like you’re about to pass out from either excitement or anxiety or both.

There’s soft footsteps on the other side of the door, and your back snaps straight.

Jay opens the door, a smile on his face, but his eyes quickly go wide once he sees you.

You don’t care.

You surge in, reaching out and cupping the back of his head, pulling him to you. You press your lips to his passionately, your other hand fisting his shirt. Jay’s hands land on your waist, the small of your back, and he’s almost tripping backwards by the force of you. In your head, you laugh at the fact that you’ve caught him off-guard, for the first time today.

You push forwards, moving further into the threshold of his apartment, still kissing him, but he stops. He grabs your arms and pulls away from the kiss, and you’re entirely confused.

Jay looks stunned and horrified, and you frown, opening your mouth to ask if you’ve made a mistake when you hear from further inside his apartment –

“Is that the pizza?”

You almost pass out.

Will.

Jay lets go of your arms and the two of you separate, putting a far-more-than-required distance between yourselves.

Jesus fucking Christ! The exact person I was trying to avoid! Does the universe just hate me?! What did I do to piss off God this much?! You’re screaming internally, and you kinda just want to rip your own hair out.

Will comes out of the kitchen, and you almost want to groan because he’s wearing a tee and basketball shorts and honestly, this is not how you want to see your attending. He looks fine, but you just feel like you’re seeing a version of him that you’re not close enough to meet yet, and it’s weird. Almost like this is exactly why the voices of your better angels were screaming at you to not sleep with Jay again?

Oh, and there’s also the fact that you’re really only here to blow his brother’s back out.

“Oh! Y/N?” Will’s brows are furrowed, and he freezes on the spot. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh…well,” You start, but your throat is dry and you’re not even sure what to say and you’re freaking the fuck out and –

“Actually, I invited her over.” Jay jumps in, and you turn to him, eyes wide, but trying to stay calm so you can play along. “We were chatting today at Med and she said she, um, wanted to talk to you and I thought you could…help her.” Jay says looking at Will, who turns back to you, concerned.

“Right, yes. I uh – I just, I keep thinking…about Toby Wilkerson. And his stroke. And about how I was this close to just not saying anything about his symptoms because I wasn’t sure, and he could’ve died.” You manage to get out, and my god do you feel like the worst doctor on the planet right now because the truth is you barely thought about Wilkerson since he got sent up to CT.

“Aw, that sucks. But trust me, every doctor’s been there at some point. Come on, let’s talk.” Kind Will, sweet Will, gestures to the couch and you throw your hands up, vigorously waving him off. “No, no, it’s fine I didn’t realise you guys were doing a thing and I don’t want to interrupt – ”

“Nah, don’t worry about that; we were just going to watch the Hawks game but – hey!” Will says suddenly, and you and Jay both look at him expectantly, immensely confused. “You’re a huge Hawks fan, right?”

Jay turns to you slowly, and you can see him begging you to say no, to just back out. Unfortunately, what he doesn’t know is that on your first day at Med, you came in wearing a Hawks scarf that Will pointed out, so you know there’s no way you’re getting out of this one.

“I…am, yes.” You manage to say without sighing deeply, which you very much want to do. Every second of this feels like divine punishment, perfectly crafted to suit your many transgressions in life.

“Alright, come on, let’s watch the game and then we can chat about Wilkerson during the intermissions.” Reluctantly, you and Jay make your way over to the couch and sit down. Right as the thought that this couldn’t possibly get worse passes in your head, Will obliviously plops down right between the two of you. At this point, you’re just pressing your lips against each other so that you don’t burst out laughing like a maniac at how perfectly ridiculous this all is.

Will leans forward to grab the remote and find the channel showing the Hawks game. You look over at Jay, on the other side. The younger Halstead looks back at you.

His eyes scan every inch of your body, from top to bottom, painfully slow like as if he’s mentally undressing you. Heat coils in your core and you swallow hard. Jay leans back against the couch and adjusts the crotch of his jeans subtly, but you notice. A small smile is on your lips, and you feel daring all of a sudden. Holding eye contact with Jay, you run your tongue over your bottom lip, getting it wet and glossy, before sucking it into your mouth.

“Okay!” Jay gets up suddenly, his voice loud. “I’m gonna – gonna go call the pizza guy and see where he’s at!” He goes straight to the kitchen, grabbing his phone on the way. You hold your laughter in.

“There we go,” Will says as he finds the right channel. “Hey, I’m gonna grab a cup of water, you want anything?” You ask and Will requests a beer.

Slipping into the kitchen, you see Jay’s got his back to you, and his arms are shoulder width apart, bracing the edges of the kitchen sink. His knuckles are ghost white, fingers clenching the sink like he’s trying to put a dent in it.

You line up right behind him, getting on your tip-toes so you can press a soft kiss to the back of his neck. Jay shudders, groaning, and you shush him.

“Keep it down,” You warn in a quiet whisper.

“How the fuck am I supposed to keep it down when you’re – fucking – ” Jay struggles, and you chuckle.

“When I’m what? Doing this?” You snake your right hand to the front of his body, letting your fingers softly – too softly – brush the front of his jeans. Jay bucks backwards into you involuntarily, swearing under his breath. His left hand grabs your wandering fingers and holds them as he struggles to get his breathing to settle.

“Y/N…I can’t – ” You turn him around so he’s facing you, and you can see him, see what you’re doing to him. Jay’s pupils are blown, his face is flushed, he’s sweating, and his brows are furrowed. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and you place your hand over his sternum.

“Breathe, okay? Breathe. I want you to sit down, get through this hockey game, and once Will’s gone – ”

“Once he’s gone I’m going to fuck your brains out, you understand? Y/N, seriously,” Jay holds your chin, tilting your face up, and leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “I’m gonna make you come all night long. You’re gonna be screaming my name, all night long. You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again after tonight. I’m going to make you mine, you hear me?” You want to nod, or say yes, but your thoughts are just so far gone you can’t. You suddenly feel Jay’s fingers pinching your right nipple through your shirt, and you can’t help letting out a throaty moan that Jay immediately stifles by sliding his thumb into your mouth. You wrap your lips around his thumb and start sucking fervently, closing your eyes but Jay grabs your jaw and pulls you off.

He’s got the dirtiest smirk on his face, after watching you so desperate for him in your mouth. “Easy babygirl, you’re the one that said we got a game to watch, yeah?” He murmurs, low. You begrudgingly nod.

The doorbell goes off, and Jay slides away from you. “I’ll get that!” He announces, and you take a deep breath, adjusting your clothes, before grabbing a beer from the fridge and heading back to the living room.

Thankfully, the one thing you haven’t lied about today is that you are genuinely a huge Hawks fan, so the game manages to keep your mind off of your…other preoccupations for the most part. It’s actually pretty fun, watching another side of Jay – the little brother who’s always ribbing at Will, who leans all the way forward when the Hawks get a powerplay, who tries to hold a whole pizza slice in his mouth so he can throw his hands in the air when they score.

The goal buzzer is going off obnoxiously, and Chelsea Dagger just starts to play. Jay grabs the pizza right before it slides out of his mouth and you just laugh. Will shakes his head. “Excuse my little brother – I promise our mother taught us manners and how to behave in front of women but he’s hit his head a lot over the years, so.” Will shrugs and Jay retaliates by punching his shoulder. “Can you please try and keep it together in front of my student and colleague, please?”

Jay rolls his eyes. “She’s not just yours.” Your eyes flash dangerously at Jay, who winks at you. Luckily, Will doesn’t spot either reaction, because he’s busy looking down at his phone that’s beeping. “She can be my friend too.” Jay adds.

“Yeah…maybe…” Will trails off, and you see his eyebrows drawn together as he stares at his phone.

“Everything good?” You ask.

Will slowly shakes his head. “Brittany Norwalk? The – ”

“- Peds vs auto that you looked at after lunch?” You interject.

“Yeah, they just tried to take her up for a thoracotomy and she couldn’t take the anesthetic so we’re going to have to go non-surgical…but apparently Lanik’s trying to get her shipped off to Lakeshore so we don’t have to keep a bed filled all night til I get back there tomorrow.” Will scoffs, and you just shake your head.

“No offense, and I know he’s your boss, but Lanik’s a complete dick.”

“Trust me, I’m with you on that.” Will replies, sighing. “So what now?” Jay asks and Will thinks about it for a moment. He turns to you. “You okay with it if we talk about Wilkerson tomorrow?”

Before you can say anything, Jay cuts in. “You’re going to Med? Now?”

Will throws his hands up in the air. “It’s the best course of action; I go down there, I can start the non-surgical procedure now, and frankly I’d rather do it myself because I’ve done it before.”

Jay’s eyes connect with you and you look away immediately. You know what he’s thinking. You also know he’s probably thinking the same thing as you – that there’s a patient whose welfare is on the line, so everything else needs to take a backseat now.

“You want me to come with?” You offer, and Will thinks about it.

“It’s fine, you should get some rest anyway. Wilkerson – ”

“Honestly Will, I feel okay already. I think I just needed to get my mind off of him somehow and – ” you gesture to the TV, where the Hawks have just scored another goal, “hockey and pizza’s done the trick.”

“And surely, the amazing company of yours truly?” Jay asks, leaning back against the couch with his hands behind his head, eyes practically twinkling. Both you and Will just stare at him, before you look at each other. “I’m scared to leave you alone with him.” Will says as he starts to grab his stuff.

“Calm down, I’ll give her back to you tomorrow in one piece.” Jay shoots back – which you highly doubt, by the way – and Will says that he better, before going into the bedroom to change.

There’s just silence, and a huge gap between you and Jay on the couch. Never having been one to be able to sit still for long, you fidget, bring your feet up onto the couch and hugging your knees. Jay doesn’t move at all, his eyes on the TV and it’s starting to unnerve you. What if he’s changed his mind?

Will comes back out, in pants and a proper shirt, and picks up his belongings before bidding his goodbyes and leaving. Once the front door closes, you turn the inside latch, locking it shut.

“So,” You start, shoving your hands in your back pockets as you stare at Jay, standing in the middle of his living room.

“So.” Jay parrots back, arms crossed over his chest. His face is neutral, and you can’t read it at all and it bugs you.

“You kinda talked a big game before.”

Jay shrugs, his green eyes fixed directly on you. “Just givin’ you an out if you’ve changed your mind. I wasn’t kidding about what I said before.” His voice is hoarse, deeper than it was before when it was you and him and Will all having fun. His eyes – they’re still, so fucking green but there’s a change. There’s something dark in them, and the thought of that only excites you.

“Make me scream your name, Jay Halstead.” You say, your voice sultry, and Jay comes undone.

He drops his arms and swiftly crosses the room to you, his hand grabbing your jaw as he crushes your lips with his. The two of you slam into a nearby wall, never separating, as you continue to kiss, stronger, deeper, more desperate. Jay expertly parts your lips with his tongue and you moan into the kiss. Running your hands down his body, you feel the lines of his abs through his thin cotton tee, and you catch the hem of it in your hands. Yanking it up, you and Jay part ways to get it off him completely.

Your eyes graze over the expanse of his body – his chest, his abs, his arms. You spot the little freckles dusted over his body, and you also spot the faint scars here and there, from a lifetime of fighting. You look up, and Jay’s watching you watch him.

Maintaining eye contact, you lean forward and start kissing his chest. Light, soft kisses, but as you travel downward, you increase the pressure of your lips on his skin, gripping his hips for support. Eventually, you’re down on your knees, your mouth right under his navel. Jay makes quick work of his jeans and you yank them down unceremoniously, along with his boxers. Jay’s thick cock bounces up, resting against his stomach. You look up from where you are, and you see Jay’s face – his furrowed brows, his open mouth – and you just smile.

You gently press your lips to the tip of his cock, adding pressure slowly. You lick the slit of his cock and Jay sucks in a sharp breath. His fingers run through your hair, still gentle but you suspect not for long.

You take his cock in your mouth, and you start bobbing up and down. With your right hand, you pump whatever your mouth can’t reach of his shaft, and quickly you get into a rhythm. You make sinful noises around his cock, your hand using whatever saliva is dripping down his cock as lube to stroke the base of his shaft. “Fuck, fuck…baby – ” Jay digs his fingers into your hair, grabbing all of it in his hand. You put your left hand over his, pushing, and he gets the message.

“Are you…sure?” Jay asks, out of breath, and you hum while your lips are still wrapped around his cock. The vibrations must have felt good, because Jay swears and involuntarily bucks into your mouth, and you can taste precum starting to leak from the head of his cock.

Jay grabs your hair, and your head, and slowly starts fucking your mouth. Thankfully, he quickly picks up the pace, and starts thrusting vigorously into your mouth. You gag on his cock, just like you wanted to, and every time his thick cock hits the back of your throat, you eyes tear up, but you fucking love it. Jay pauses when he’s fully in your mouth, letting you feel the massiveness of his cock possess what feels like the entirety of your mouth, before fully pulling out.

You gasp for air, breathing heavily, as saliva dribbles down your chin. Jay runs his thumb across your lips. “You look so good with my cock in your mouth, baby.” 

“I want…I want more…” You whisper, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock once again. “I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N – FUCK!” Jay starts and you cut him off by swiftly deep-throating his cock. “Fuck fuck fuck – fuck!” Jay repeats, grabbing your hair and fucking up into your mouth. You feel him tense up, as he slams his cock in and out of your mouth, and you hear him shout, and he stops, your nose touching the base of his shaft, his cock entirely in your mouth, and you feel hot spurts of cum down your throat. When he finally releases you, his cock is red and wet, glossy all over from your saliva and his cum.

Jay lifts you up and aggressively kisses you. You grab and pull on his hair, and he retaliates by squeezing your ass hard enough that you know there’s going to be bruises tomorrow. You pull apart, and he tosses you on to the couch. He surges forward, and together you two quickly remove all of your clothing as well. He pushes you so you lay down on his couch, and Jay quickly makes himself at home between your thighs.

Keeping your legs spread with his arms, Jay starts by peppering kisses from the back of your knee to your inner thigh on one leg, before switching to the next and starting all over again. You whine, fisting his hair in your hands to try and get him to touch you where you really want him, but Jay's working his plan the way he wants to.

"God, I love the fucking sounds you make." Jay murmurs, looking up at you. Your eyelashes flutter as he softly blows at your clit, and you can hear him smirking.

"C'mon, c'mon," You beg running your fingers through his hair. Your suddenly feel the forceful pressure of a tongue against your clit, and it's so sudden and so hard that you immediately jerk, hips bucking upwards. “Oh!” You shout, and Jay grabs your hips, holds them down, and starts assaulting your clit with his mouth.

"Oh, fuck, yes, yes - please - uhhnnhh ahhh! Fuck - !" You moan, eyes squeezed shut as Jay softly sucks on your clit. You feel his fingers enter you, curling, stretching you out and you groan. With your free hand, you grab your right breast and squeeze yourself. You start getting lightheaded, and you know what's happening.

"I'm gonna...I'm gonna come..." You whisper, and Jay immediately stops what he's doing.

"No, no, no no Jay please please fuck - " You whimper, trying to grab his hair to push his face back between your legs where he's certainly an expert.

He pulls himself up, bracketing you with his arms as he's face to face with you now. Bracing himself on one arm, he uses his right hand to brush away the hair on your face. "Shhh baby, I've got you, yeah? You're mine, and I'm gonna take good care of you."

With his hand around his cock, Jay slowly rubs your opening with the head of his cock. You moan, grabbing his face with your hands, begging him to fuck you. “Say you want me,” Jay’s pupils are so dilated, and he’s breathing heavy.

“I want you, I want you so bad, please, please – ” You whine, and he leans down and presses his lips to yours, soft and gentle. Your kiss is slow, and sweet – Jay runs his tongue over your lips and you almost want to start crying because of how good everything feels. You start feeling pressure between your legs, and you grab Jay’s shoulders to try and shift yourself down to bring his cock up into you. Jay just laughs at your desperation – “I’ve got you, Y/N...easy now,” – and slides his tip into you.

You let out a loud, dragged out moan, your back arching off the couch. “You’re so fucking wet, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Jay groans, sliding his entire cock into you easily. He’s buried to the hilt inside of you, and he starts thrusting gently. So slowly, that you can feel every inch of him against your muscles, your core. You rock back against him, your pussy clenching around his cock with every thrust. “You take me…so good baby…its like your body...was made to get fucked by me,” Jay whispers into your ear, before quickening the pace, harshly slamming his cock into you with every rapid thrust. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh god – ” You whimper, your voice breaking off into a high pitched whine as you throw your head back. Your whole body is bouncing with every of Jay’s thrusts, and you know you’re so close, so close, when Jay suddenly halts his movements.

You’re going to kill him.

“You – fucking – fuck!” You breath, trying to rock yourself on his cock, trying to build up the heat in your core again, but Jay pulls out of you entirely. “Fu – Halstead!” You shout, eyes flashing but the intense look in Jay’s eyes silences you immediately. 

“I’m not letting you cum until you’re screaming my name so loud all of Chicago can hear you, okay?” Jay’s voice is rough, deep and almost threatening, and you swallow hard. Eyelashes fluttering, you nod, your breasts softly bouncing as your chest rises and falls heavily. Jay grabs your arms and turns you over, so that you’re laying on your stomach. He presses his front to your back and moves your hair to the side. His lips roughly lay kisses over the back of you neck, between your shoulder blades, down your spine. You close your eyes, relaxing against his gentle movements. Eventually, his hands grip your hips and pull up, so that you’re on your knees, ass in the air, face pressed against the couch.

You feel the couch dip behind you, and you try to see what he’s doing, but you can’t, not from your angle. The suspense of it just makes everything so much more heated. You feel Jay’s left hand dig in to your left hip, and before you can even process it, you feel his cock thrust roughly into your cunt.

“Oh!” You shout, and Jay’s fingers dig into both your hips, and that’s the only warning you get before he starts pounding his thick cock into you. Obscene noises escape your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the sound of Jay’s thighs slapping against your ass resonate loudly in the room. You’re not going to be walking straight tomorrow, you know it, but it’s so fucking worth it because this feels so good, so amazing, so hot and it’s what you want and it’s what you need. Tears start spilling out of your eyes as you feel the orgasm you’ve been denied for about an hour now building again, stronger, heavier, deeper, and you start whining, whimpering, mewling.

Jay grabs your arms and lifts you a few inches off the couch, and you almost pass out because this new position gives him all the room he needs and more. Jay’s cock slams right where you need it to, and you feel like he’s fucking rearranging your guts at this point. Jay’s guttural moans are like music to your ears, and you feel your toes start curling, clenching around his thick cock.

“J – Jay, Jay, Jay! I’m coming, I’m com – JAY!” You scream, refusing to let his name part from your lips. Your vision whites out as you go over the edge, your body shuddering and twitching, and your orgasm slams into you so hard you feel like you’ve passed out. Jay slowly pulls out and gently releases your arms. He has to help flip you over because every part of you feels sorely fucked out and jelly-like.

Your eyes stay closed, and you’re drowsy, like you’ve been given every painkiller in the world. You vaguely hear Jay’s voice, and it feels like its in the distance, or as if your head is underwater.

“Hey. Hey,” Jay repeats, and you slowly open your eyes and you see him over you, watching your face with concern in his eyes. “Did I go too hard?” He’s worried, and you just slowly shake your head.

“Y/N, I – ”

You say something so soft Jay can’t make it out. “What is it, Y/N?” He leans closer. You just reach down between the two of you, and wrap your hand around his still erect cock that’s now leaking precum again.

Jay stiffens, but he grabs your hand. “It’s okay, I’m okay, let’s just make sure you’re fine – ” and he shifts to get up, but you stop him. Your eyes are wide open now, and while your head is still spinning, you’re a little more focused than you were 5 minutes ago. You send your right hand downwards, touching yourself and covering your fingers in your wetness. One of your fingers accidentally swipes against your sensitive clit and you twitch sharply, crying out, and Jay’s immediately holding you, worried. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” You murmur, and bring your slick hand up, wrapping it around Jay’s cock. Jay settles his forearms on either side of your head, bracketing you, and he presses a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. Smiling against him, you start working his cock, your hand rubbing against his stomach and yours. Jay’s so close already, so it doesn’t take too long before he starts moaning. He dips his head into your neck, swearing under his breath. “Hey, no, I want to see you Jay. Look at me now,” You say, and Jay wordlessly complies, lifting his head back up. You see how absolutely wrecked he looks – brows drawn together, sweat all over his face, and body, breathing like he’s running out of air – and you reach up with your other hand and brush your thumb against his check. “You’re so good Jay, you’re so good, you’re almost there baby,” You encourage him, and he nods. “I’m clo – close, Y/N, I’m so – I’m almost – I – uhn, fuck – I’m so close baby – ” Jay babbles softly, eyes screwed shut. You almost come again, just watching how gone he is. Jay sucks in a sharp breath when you run your thumb over his slit, and then he’s over the edge.

“Oh fuck – fuck, fuck – Y/N, Y/N!” Jay shouts, shooting hot cum over your stomach, your breasts. You press kisses to his neck, letting him settle down and regain his senses as he sags down against you. The both of you are slick with sweat, and half unconscious, so it’s a while before anyone moves or says anything. Eventually, the two of you decide you need to get in the shower, so you do.

The two of you stand under the shower water, and you run your hands over each other’s bodies, cleaning away the messes of Jay’s orgasm. Well, at least you do. Jay’s fingers keep peeling off to thumb your nipples, or squeeze your breasts, and you have to grab his fingers to stop him from being so handsy. He laughs –  a cheeky, I’m-not-sorry-at-all look on his face.

“So,” You start, looking at him.

“So,” Jay repeats, his lips curving into a smile.

“You kept your promise, I’ll say. Made me scream your name, fucked me so hard and so good I think you might have ruined everyone else for me,” You say, and Jay frowns. “Might have?” You just laugh softly, as does Jay, before his face drops the smile. “Seriously, though, are you okay? I went really hard on you – I swear, I didn’t mean to – I don’t know what happened – I just saw you there under me and I just – I lost my mind and you just looked so fucking good and I wanted to – ”

“Shh – Jay, look at me.”

His green eyes connect with yours, and your hearts warms with how full of concern and worry they are.

“I can take it. When it’s from you, I can take it,” You say, and then your heart’s beating like crazy in your chest because that right there? That sounds like its more than just sex. You’re not sure what this is, you’re not even sure if you should be doing this at all – Will’s still his brother and still your attending and having sex with Jay already screws stuff up but something more than sex? 

That’s just a recipe for disaster, right?

Thankfully, Jay doesn’t seem to realise that you’re starting to panic, and he just leans in, and holds your face in his hands as he kisses you softly. You relax, Jay’s lips moving against yours, with yours, in a delicate dance that has you forgetting all your worries and feeling safe and comfortable.

***

A/N: Thanks for reading! I do have ideas for a part 3, but I’ve also kinda left it so that this can be the end of this series, so I’m probably not continuing it unless y’all want me to! If you want to see part 3, please leave comments saying so! Thanks :)

[mrsalwayswrite]

Say You’ll Stay- Chapter 2

Fury/Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

Here is the next chapter! Yay! 

Warnings: Swearing, attempted sexual assault 

Tag List: @happyveday​ @evelynshelby​ @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes​ @alwaysindecemberfeels​ 

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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Dusk had fallen over the small town. A few stars peered down from the heavens already. Only a few clouds obstructed the moon and starlight. Thankfully the sounds of artillery fire had ceased. At least for now. There were no bird songs though, only the crickets that hid in the tall grass. Their symphony was better than gunfire though. 

 Carrying the heavy, water-laden wooden bucket, Anna carefully walked back up the dirt path from the river towards the building being used as a field hospital. The walk only took ten minutes but she was exhausted. Both from the unrelenting hours of work and lack of sleep. Not that this was unusual. Over the past year her body seemed to have adjusted to minimal sleep and excessive stress. It was her night off to actually sleep more than four hours, and her body practically screamed for her to hurry up and find her bed.

 So focused on watching her footing along the muddy ground and trying to keep the water in the bucket, she failed to notice the soldier blocking the small path. It was only when his boots came into her view did she gasp and look up. 

 "Oh! You gave me such a fright." Her heart raced in her chest at the surprise. Soldiers did not normally come this way. The small creek was not worthy of note besides gathering water and washing things, if need be. It had been too cold for bathing or swimming, not that there was much time for either. She knew of a few that came down to try and find peace in the stillness of the smooth creek. 

 Yet there was something in the way the soldier stood looking at her, that raised the hair on the back of her neck.

 "Apologies, Nurse Cooper. I saw you out here and it looked like you could use some help."

 It took her a moment to recognize the soldier in the dimming light. It was a Private she had bandaged up from a gunshot wound, having only grazed his shoulder. A lucky shot for him. He had been trying to flirt with her as he sat bare chested before her, her hands cleaning his wound and wrapping a bandage around it. It was not until his free hand started tracing patterns down her back that she became wary of him. When she finished and stood up to leave, his hand slid down and cupped her ass momentarily. A sleazy wink was all the reaction he gave when she turned to look at him in surprise. She tried to avoid him after. 

 "Oh, I’m just fine. Thank you though." She tried to move around him, even stepping off the path into the tall, frost-covered grass. 

 His hands shot out, one to grab the handle of the bucket and the other to wrap around her small waist. "Come on, baby. Don't be like that. Let me help you."

 "Let go of me, Private. I don’t need your help."

 "You sure? I promise to take good care of you."

 "Let. Go." She tried to step away but his grip on her only tightened. 

 He chuckled at her demand, trying to tug her closer. His thin lips, accentuated by the patchy beard on his face, curved up in a small smile like her resistance amused him. His ODs were even more filthy than her nurse’s uniform and she wondered when they last had been cleaned. 

He was several inches taller than her, since she only reached about five feet and three inches...but she did not care. Her father had taught her to defend herself. Just as she reached for his hand, prepared to dislocate or break a finger clutching her waist, a voice called out. 

 "Anna?"

 Looking up the path, she noticed Boyd standing there watching her with his hands in the pockets of his tan jacket and eyes narrowed at the soldier holding her. Beside him stood a young man, most likely someone from his crew. 

 "You alright, Anna?"

 Before she could open her mouth, the Private still holding her spoke up. 

 "She's fine. Now fuck off."

 Boyd shifted his eyes to stare at the Private, his jaw clenched. A long moment later his gaze locked back on hers. Hands in his pockets, he slowly started walking closer down the path, his companion trailing hesitantly but obediently. "Anna, we were waiting on you. Don sent me out to find you cause we promised to wait to eat till you came. If we don't hurry on, pretty sure Grady is gonna to start without us and Lord knows there won't be any food left then."

 "Sorry to keep you waiting," she played along, putting both hands back on the handle of the bucket, "I had to help sew up someone's hand."

 Boyd smirked then pointedly looked at the Private with a dead glare. "Somewhere you supposed to be?"

 The Private's hand tightened painfully on her waist, clutching her in an almost possessive way. She winced, wondering if it would bruise. The two men glared at one another, the tension in the air palpable. Anna could not help but hold her breath, hoping a fight was not about to break out. That would just be the icing on the cake for how her day had been going.

 Finally, he pulled his arm back from around her and let go of the bucket's handle. All the while, his eyes met Boyd's head-on, ignoring her as if she was only a piece of scenery. "She ain't worth it." He spat out. 

 He started to move away but at the last minute, he knocked the wooden bucket so it sloshed the water, spilling at least half down the front of her thin coat and dress. Without looking back, he continued back up the path, ignoring both Boyd and his companion. 

 "Shit." She mumbled, staring down at her wet clothes. The worst part was she would have to drudge back to the river to fill the bucket back up again. The first hint of tears filling her eyes came, and she covered her face with one hand, willing the tears to vanish. There was no time for that. She was fine. She had to be. She was just so damn tired. 

 "Give'er here." Boyd gently took the bucket from her hand and handed it to his young brunet companion. A slight nod and the younger man hurried down the path, disappearing through the tall bushes. "You alright? Did he hurt you?"

 "No, no. I'm fine. I had it handled." She snapped, the residual fear and anger getting the best of her.  All she wanted to do was rest but now, she wondered if her mind would even let her. 

 His eyebrows rose, thick moustache twitching. "Really? My apologies for interferin’ then. Norman and I will just be on our way."

 "Wait, no. I'm sorry. That was rude. I just…and then he...I…" Embarrassed, she covered her face with her hands, taking a few, deep breaths. Her emotions felt like a tornado threatening to overtake her. Anger, frustration, exhaustion, hopelessness and fear swirled within; tears gathered in the corners of her eyes but she quickly wiped them away. She crossed her arms over her chest, the cold from the water soaking her coat beginning to slip under her skin. 

 Boyd faced her, one hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. Did he hurt you though?"

 "No. He...um, he had just approached me."

 He seemed to weigh her words before grunting an affirmative, his head swiveling back up to look down the path towards the river. "When did you last eat?"

 "What?" She looked up at him in confusion, a shiver rattling her. If it was from the cold or adrenaline, she was unsure.

 He smirked, looking back at her, with kind brown eyes. "When did you eat?"

 "Um…" It was embarrassing how she had to rack her brain for that answer. Apparently she took too long because Boyd shook his head and interrupted her thoughts. 

 "That settles it. You're coming with us."

 "Wait, what?"

 The younger man appeared, carrying her bucket, a shy smile on his boyish face. 

 "Norman, this is Nurse Anna Cooper. Anna, this is Norman." Boyd quickly introduced, hands back in his jacket pockets. "She's gonna eat with us."

 "Oh, ok. What about…?" Norman glanced down at the full bucket. 

 Anna answered, holding back tears once more that she did not have to trek back down to the creek. "I have to take it back... to the hospital."

 "Right. Let's go." Boyd walked beside her; Norman followed, still carrying the bucket. 

 Her mind struggled to understand what all had just transpired in the last few minutes but if war had taught her anything, it was to roll with the punches and keep moving. 

 Anna pushed open the back door to the make-shift hospital, the immediate warmth bringing a small smile to her face. Nurse Falk stood in the back room, tending to the fireplace.  

 "What took ya so long, girl, I almost sent Evelyn to find ya…" Nurse Falk began when she heard the door open, but when she turned around to see Anna standing inside with the two soldiers escorting her, her mouth snapped shut. Immediately, her piercing gaze pinned Anna to her spot, making her shift uncomfortably. 

 "Ah, they… um, they helped me." Anna started, unsure what she wanted to say. 

 "Evenin', ma'am." Boyd took over, giving the middle-aged woman a respectful nod. "I met Anna earlier today and when I saw her gathering the water, I offered to help."

 "That's mighty kind of ya, sir." Nurse Falk stated, though her tone only held a smidgen of actual appreciation. The head nurse was harsh and ran her hospital with a firm whip but she looked out for her girls, especially when it came to men sniffing around them. 

 "It's no problem. We'll get outta your hair. If s'alright, Anna is gonna come eat with me and my crew. Said she couldn't remember when she last ate."

 Anna averted her eyes, picking at her nails as she could feel the anger in the head nurse's gaze. 

 "Mmm...that's kind again of ya to offer but…"

 "I swear on the Lord's holy book, I won't let nothin' happen to her. We're just going to eat. I'll make sure she's back in an hour."

 Nurse Falk pursed her lips, swiping her graying hair off her forehead. "Anna?"

 The redhead glanced at her matron and silently nodded. 

 "Alright. One hour." Nurse Falk held up one finger to emphasize. Then her eyes seemed to take in Anna's mess. "Christ, girl. Why in the blue blazes are ya wet?"

 "I spilled the bucket."

 "Mmm, well take ya coat off. Ain't doing no good now. Hang it near the fire, then off with ya. One hour, ya hear me."

 Anna followed her instructions, hanging her thin coat on a peg near the fireplace, having formed a small puddle where she had been standing. As she finished that, she could see the younger man- Norman- handing the bucket to the head nurse. 

 Next thing she knew, she was walking through the devastated town, Boyd on her left and Norman on her right. A chill swept through on the evening breeze, raising goosebumps on her exposed skin. She wrapped her arms around herself, her damp dress seeming to hold onto the cold air greedily. She wondered if the two would have waited for her to change clothes, but it was too late now. She had not realized how much water soaked into her dress until she took her coat off. 

 "Here." Norman shrugged off his jacket, tossing it over her shoulders.

 "Oh no, it's …"

 Boyd interrupted her. "I was 'bout to give you mine if he didn't. Can't have you catching a chill out here."

 "But…"

 "Just say thank you."

 She shot a glare at Boyd who smirked, keeping his gaze forward. Rolling her eyes, she quietly thanked Norman, who smiled shyly. Honestly, the extra layer felt heavenly, it was just enough to keep the chill out and she hoped to help dry her dress out. Norman was only three or four inches taller than herself so his jacket was not too huge on her shorter frame. Arms in the sleeves, she wrapped her arms in front of her to keep the jacket somewhat closed. It smelled of sweat, gunpowder and gasoline. Nothing too unusual from the rest of the war. At least it did not smell like blood. She was thankful for that. 

 As they walked, Boyd talked about how they were a tank crew and briefly mentioned each of its members. His voice became a background noise amidst the sounds of renewed artillery fire, shouting orders, and vehicles moved around. A few times they had to stop to wait for a truck to pass or a squad of soldiers. Twice catcalls followed as they passed, not that she really paid attention to that anymore but after what just happened with the Private, it made her tense. 

 "Don't you pay any attention to them." Boyd commented quietly, moving slightly closer nonetheless.  

 Finally, they arrived at a brick building, a large chunk missing out of one of its corners. It looked like a giant had taken a swing at the building and clipped its corner causing a hole. A few soldiers relaxed on the main floor, smoking or sleeping. A couple of them turned to watch the three enter but no one said anything. Boyd quickly ushered her up the stairs to the second floor and an adjacent room from the creaky, wooden stairs. 

 "Bible, where the fuck you…" 

 A man's harsh voice abruptly ceased after Boyd pulled her through the door behind him. 

 A single lamp was alight in the corner, casting shadows over the abandoned bedroom and its three occupants, waiting for their companions' return. A small gasp escaped her but before she could turn around and run out the door, questioning the wisdom of her blindly following someone she met once, Boyd gripped her upper arm. 

 "This here is Nurse Anna Cooper. I invited her to eat with us, so you heathens show some respect."  

 Silence hung heavy in the room. She wondered if she should back out, if this was a mistake. Why did she come here? Scanning the room, she realized the silence lingered because everyone was staring at one of the occupants in particular. Almost as if waiting for his permission. When she looked his way, she noticed him staring at her, eyes slightly squinted. Something within her rose up and she met his gaze without wavering. She was exhausted, honestly the thought of food had made her realize how ravenous she was and she liked Boyd, his presence was comforting and peaceful. So far, he had not given her any creepy vibes. If this...man who clearly was in charge wanted her to leave, he was going to have to say it. She was just too damn tired to care for pleasantries. A shudder shot through her as her body attempted to absorb the warmth in the room, making her tremble slightly. She tugged Norman’s jacket tighter around herself. 

 The man looked just as weary as she felt. A scar on his cheek along with dirt and grime scattered across his handsome face made her wonder when he last enjoyed the luxury of bathing. His hair cut was odd, with it practically shaved on the sides and long on top. His eyes held an intelligence and determination she had rarely seen before. As his sky-blue eyes met hers, a slight shiver went down her spine. Not from fear, but attraction and a strange desire for his approval, surprising her through the haze of exhaustion. Which later she really should reprimand herself for. This was war, there was no time for attraction and romance. Wait, when did she start thinking about romance? A slight blush rose to her cheeks. She barely knew this man. Her friend back home would be laughing at her if she could read her mind right now. Christ, she must be more exhausted than she thought.  

 Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he gave a brief nod then looked over to only non-white man in the room. "We got extra?"

 The stout man's eyes bounced back and forth between her and the other man- obviously their commander- before smiling. "Yeah, yeah. We got enough for la mamacita."

 The commander met her gaze once more with a tight-lipped smile. 

 What had she gotten herself into? Who was this man?

 *****

 What in the fuck was Boyd thinking bringing a girl like her here?

 Don watched as she sat between Boyd and Norman on the ground, head bowed and eyes closed as Bible led them in a quick prayer over their dinner. 

 She certainly was a pretty little thing. Auburn hair that was tied in a bun on the nape of her neck, a few strands hanging out around her face. Rich blue eyes like sapphires that seemed to take in everything at once when she entered the room. A button nose over soft lips, the bottom lip slightly fuller. What caught him was how tiny she was. Yes, she was certainly on the shorter end, but from what he could tell how Norman's jacket hung off her and her dress, she would normally be slender but now she looked far too skinny. He wondered if this was why Boyd brought her. It seemed meals were not a regular occurrence for her. Nor rest, if the dark circles under her eyes were any indicator. 

 Everyone quickly began to dig into the food they had managed to scavenge. Gordo and Norman had found some unspoiled apples, making sure everyone had at least one. They split the better parts of the C rations and two cans of beans they also found. Don knew he should inquire as to where Gordo and Norman found the food but with the pleased looks of his crew, he chose not to. Plausible deniability and all that. 

 "So, you're a nurse, huh?" Gordo broke the ice, munching on his third apple. 

 She jumped slightly as if surprised someone had spoken to her or had been lost in thought. "Yes."

 "That how you met Boyd, huh? You at the hospital?"

 "I cleaned up his hand."

 "Uh huh...so how you end up here? That was hours ago that he went to get his hand fixed."

 Don knew Gordo was searching for something, even if his question and tone seemed casual. Not that his own mind had not been repeatedly asking the same question. He had sent out Boyd and Norman to check on Fury one last time and had returned with this girl. 

 Fucking hell.

 She tugged Norman's jacket tighter around herself almost subconsciously but before she could open her mouth, Boyd answered. 

 "Ran into her outside the hospital and asked her to join us. It's nice to be around pleasant company every once and awhile instead of you complainers."

 That got Gordo jokingly riled up, even Grady threw out a comment. 

 Don just smiled, taking a bite out of his apple, sitting between Boyd and Gordo. This crew, he considered family. They were his brothers. He glanced over at Anna and noticed her suddenly tensed, tucking her legs beneath her. Norman and Gordo were arguing over what tasted the worst in their C rations. Boyd just laughed along. It was then he noticed what was making her so uncomfortable. Grady was leering at her, a dopey smirk on his face. 

 "Grady, knock it off."

 Coon-Ass looked up at him, not in the least bit phased at being caught.  "What?" 

 "I said, knock it off."

 "Shit. Ain't hurting no one."

 Don just glared at him until he huffed and muttered something under his breath, suddenly finding the can of beans extremely interesting in his lap. 

 Whatever food was placed in front of her, she quickly ate. Although if it was due to nerves or actually hunger, that was still up in the air. Don caught Boyd a few times sliding some of his own food her way. She would give him a look but he just ignored her, nudging her until she ate it. The whole time she kept herself wrapped up in Norman's jacket tighter than a ball of yarn.

 Don had a few questions for his gunner once she left. 

 As the food disappeared amongst the group, he watched her eyes grow more and more heavy. A couple times, unsuccessfully, trying to hide a yawn.

 "I should get going." She mumbled out, unsteadily getting to her feet. Slipping off the jacket, she gave it back to Norman with a quiet thanks. 

 Boyd jumped to his feet. "I'll walk you back."

 "No, it's ok."

 "Anna…"

 "I'm fine." She snapped then winced. "I'm sorry, I just...if Doctor Erickson thinks I'm fraternizing…" 

 "It's alright."

 "I'll see you tomorrow morning." Her gaze skimmed over the group quickly. "Thank y’all for letting me join you. It was a pleasure to meet y’all."

 Before she could walk out, Boyd stopped her, his hand on her arm, voice low but not enough for the others to not catch his words. "You go down to the river again; you find one of us. Or for anything, yeah?"

 She nodded then ducked out, leaving silence in her wake. 

 "Care to explain what that was about?"

 Boyd ran a hand over his mustache before speaking. "Nothing, Don."

 "Didn't seem like nothing." Gordo stated, already laying on the floor with his eyes closed. "She's pretty. Real pretty. I think Bible was thinking with his…"

 "Gordo, you say another word and I'm going to shut your mouth for you." Boyd threatened, glaring at his crew mate. Grady and Gordo just laughed. 

 Don watched on silently. A picture of what happened formed in his mind. It was obvious Boyd was protecting her from something. "Norman," he looked over at the kid who he considered a younger brother, "what happened?"

 The kid glanced from Don to Boyd and back, clearly hesitant to share whatever it was Boyd was hiding. 

 "Go on, Norm. S'alright." Boyd slid down the wall to take a seat. 

 "Well, we are walking, see, Bible and I heard a commotion. There was this Private who had her…" His voice dropped off. 

 "It's alright, son." Don turned from Norman to Boyd. "And the eating?"

 "She couldn't remember when she last ate."

 "Fuck." Don whispered; he could already see the determined look in Boyd's eyes. He had found a stray he planned on taking care of while here. Don sometimes wished Boyd relaxed like the other soldiers- drinking, smoking and women. Boyd "Bible" Swan was a good man, too good for those around him. Instead, he would find something usually to nurture, a stray dog or cat, and while they were in whatever hell hole they were in, until the next orders came, he would take care of his stray. This time...it seemed to be this nurse. 

 "Get some sleep. We'll be getting our orders tomorrow." Don said, moving to lay on his back. He could hear the others moving around, getting settled on the hard, wooden floor. His hopes of finding beds for his crew came to naught but at least they had a roof over their heads and floor space to stretch out. Though he did have to commandeer the space from a couple of Privates who were all but almost asleep. A sharp remark and a couple kicks to get them on their feet and out the door did the trick though. 

 Closing his eyes, he hoped sleep would find him quickly and without dreams or nightmares. His mind though kept revisiting a pair of sapphire eyes that met his own in such silent strength, he had almost chuckled at the time.

[evolsinner]

⊱┊14

i awake to footsteps rushing up and down the staircase, the kind where you're late for something. not only does that tell me that it's morning time, but the fact that there's blinding sunlight shining through the thinnest crack in the curtains where both sides meet in the centre.

kayrem's sleeping on his stomach, all sprawled out. his pale back with beauty marks sprinkled all over makes me weak, but his ash brown hair brings me back to my senses; it ain't fucking ink black!

"kayrem, you gotta wake up."

he needs to get the fuck out, like, now.

"mmm, marie.." he mumbles, rolling over so that he's facing me, "a little while longer.."

"no, kayrem."

he mumbles again, pulling the covers over himself as a refusal, but this action also removes if off me.

"shit! don't look! don't look!" i quickly grab the covers again.

he literally laughs in his half~asleep state.

"so not funny," i mutter, flustered.

"i don't know why you're freaking out," he murmurs nonchalantly. "i was in you last night, marie."

the heat instantly rushes to my cheeks. some part of me wished he had forgotten, that we both had forgotten. i don't regret it, but it's more like a weird feeling. i feel out of place. a puzzle piece that one tries to fit in the incorrect template. i feel...wrong.

"mum and dad are awake. they'll notice that you're missing from your room."

no answer.

"kayrem, get up, please," i urge.

no answer again.

guys after sex are so lazy.

i decide to get up first.

"cupcake, stay with me," kayrem grumbles, gripping my arm. "i like it when you're next to me..." the libido in his morning voice taunts me.

i clear my throat and wriggle free from his weak hold.

-ˋˏ ༻🥂༺ ˎˊ-

i'm on literally house arrest, my brother as my stupid babysitter! i’m hoisted up on the kitchen's wooden benchtop, watching tv on the other end of the room whilst munching on cereal.

our parents have gone off to finish the last of the reporters at the old house so we can move back in. maxi's at school, and kayrem...well, he's heading down the stairs ~ shirtless and in red flannel pj pants.

"morning, sunshine," kayrem smiles through his yawn.

"uh, mornin'," i purse my lips, hitting him with that co~worker smile.

he bites his bottom lip..seductively before going off to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "how'd you sleep?" he stands across from me, twisting the cap open.

is that a trick question or something?

"f~fine."

i continue taking spoonfuls of cornflakes, making sure to focus my attention on the tele and not on him. for whatever reason, my gaze returns back to him. ugh! i absorb in his skinny but lean frame. he pretends that he doesn't notice me evidently checking him out. i think he likes the attention...

"warm today, ain't it?" he gazes out the windows.

"um, yeah!" i reply rather too upbeat which makes the situation even awkwarder! quickly, i follow his scan out the windows to cool down my fluster away from his judgment.

he chuckles under his breath.

"what are you doing?" i anxiously question his sudden presence right in front of me.

"spread your legs."

“what?"

he places his hand on my knee and another hand on the other knee before firmly spreading them apart, then he comes in between them and whispers, "i'm hungry."

the bowl trembles in my grip.

"…for some cereal," he clarifies nonchalantly, lifting up my spoon and collecting some cornflakes on it.

i internally relax.

instead of bringing the spoon to his mouth, he brings it to my mouth. "open," he touches the spoon to my lips.

i open my mouth and he feeds me the spoonful like a baby. i start to chew when kayrem leans in and envelopes his mouth over mine. it catches me so off guard that the bowl i'm holding tilts and a little bit of the milk pours over his abs. he doesn't care though, rather, he deepens the kiss.

"most delicious fucking cereal i've ever tasted, cupcake," he says between the kiss, eating the cornflakes right out of my mouth.

i set the bowl aside and drag him closer between my legs as we make out. my breathing elevates and a sense of intense lust gushes through me. i am so angry at myself, but it’s his fault. he knows just how to make sure i'm his whenever he wants me to be his.

"wait, stop, we shouldn't," i retract.

"you practically told me to rape you last night, and now you want to back out?"

"it wasn't like that!" i snap.

"sorry, but i don't break promises, sis," he uses my words against me. "now lean back," he instructs. "i want another taste..." he adds in a whisper.

i get soft again.

a button, a zipper and a tug later, kayrem has his mouth against the base of my underwear.

"kayrem..!”

he sucks my folds over the fabric and toys with my clit. all the windows are completely uncovered; anyone can practically see in. i catch a glimpse of a car going past, and like a reflex, i kick kayrem in the shoulder. he stumbles back, confused and infatuated.

"no," i tell him like i'm taming a dog.

another car goes past and he sees me looking at it nervously.

"who the fuck cares if anyone sees? i'm just enjoying breakfast. no crime in that, babysis.”

like a dog to a bone, he returns and drags my underwear down. he begins sucking..licking..probing..swallowing. he really knows how to…eat.

"mm..fuck," i grind into his face, creating more friction for myself. "you've..." i throw my head back, "got to..." i grab his hair, "stop,” i push him deeper into myself.

"moan for me, baby, moan for me."

"ahh, fuck, kayrem, f~faster..!"

giving his tongue a break, he rams two fingers into me and begins pumping in and out vigorously. i go from a molten lava cake that's been cut in half to an active volcano.

"w~what's happening to me..?!"

"it's okay," he takes a step back. "you're squirting."

"what?!" i throw my palms over my vag, stopping the gush. it feels like i'm peeing!

"marie, christ, you look so damn fuckable right now," he observes me with broad, broad eyes. "effing wish you were sitting on my face."

"i don’t squirt," i say angrily.

"hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of. guys dig that shit. you've actually made me a fuckload hornier."

"i'm not!" my eyes blur up.

"okay, okay," he quickly says. "it's okay, okay? i'll help you hide the evidence, cupcake," he smiles softly before reconnecting his lips with my wet folds, and just like that, he pumps my euphoria levels right back up.

"oh god, yesss," i scream. "oh my god!" i spot a familiar grey blob backing up into the driveway. "oh my goddd!"

kayrem continues.

"get off! get off!"

the car door shuts.

"get off!!!" i slap him hard on his back.

"ow!" he lifts his head up. "what the hell, marie?! you're so confusing!"

"mum's here!!"

keys dangle at the front door.

"what? she is?!" he glances out the window and sees her parked tesla. "oh fuck! fuck! what the fuck?! why the fuck?!"

i jump down, collect my pants and run behind the benchtop.

the door sways open.

"hey, mum!" i scream.

"jesus!" she holds a hand to her heart. "you startled me half to death, roséah."

"oops, aha! sorry, didn't mean to. um, why are you home?"

"forgot some important paperwork..." she answers me, looking around dubiously. her scan stops at kayrem as she watches him awkwardly eat the rest of what's actually called breakfast. "ahem, kayrem, please put on a shirt. you can't be walking around like that in front of your sister."

"oh," he looks at his chest, or past it, i can't tell. "uh..." and he faces me.

i shake my head at him questionably.

he gulps, licking his lips nervously.

"kayrem. shirt. now," mum dictates.

"right..mother..just.."

he's still staring at me in some code that i'm supposed to magically understand.

?!?!?!?!?

he glances at the fruit bowl which has a batch of bananas on the top.

so?

oh.

oh.

"this is bananas!" i scream again.

"jesus, roséah!" mum jumps in fright again. "what is with you?!"

"sorry," i cringe. "uh...would you like a banana?"

whilst her attention is fixed on me, kayrem slips away.

"no, and for the love of god, use your inside voice."

i nod, peeling up one for myself.

she leaves.

i roughly take a bite out of the fruit…yummy?