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volklana · 4 months

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I Gave You All

Title Comes From This Song:

Request from @whitedarkmoonflower :

Hi! I hope you are doing well? I love your Sihtric fics, they are so full of life and emotions, and so naturally flowing. 💖💖💖

I'm struggling a bit myself and I really, really need something angsty with my beloved Sihtric. Would you consider writing something where he's getting home from a battle and some rumors reach him that his wife hasn't been faithful to him?

And when he gets back he sees something that makes him believe these rumors, but it has some innocent explanation, he just doesn't want to listen and he's angry and accusative and pushes her away and she leaves upset for his mistrust and not letting her explain. And they both are heartbroken.

And then he finds out that nothing was actually as he thought and he desperately wants her back. The ending is up to you. I'm fine with everything.

Warnings: Mention of the word whore in a derogatory manner.

A/N : I really hope that I did your idea justice and hopefully this brings you some comfort sweetheart xxx

Blood dripped down Sihtric’s face and fell warm and sticky onto his forearm although he could not tell if it was his own or some fallen Dane’s just yet.

He was trying to force the air into his battle drunk lungs, chest rising and falling rapidly as sound began to flood his senses once more, and the vague recognition that someone was calling his name pulled him back to where he stood beaten and sore on the bloody battle field.

Finan was before him in an instant, worried eyes searching his face before he was pulled flush against his friend’s chest as he repeated "Thank god. Oh thank god.”

It was true, Sihtric had come but a hair’s width away from death, he had slipped and gone down, forcing him to fight for his life as blow after blow pummeled down on top of him and only by the grace of the gods, his opponent had slipped on blood or mud, it didn’t matter but Sihtric had managed to scramble the upper hand and fought tooth and nail before managing to wrangle his dagger free and drove it up under the jaw of his opponent and watched the light leave his eyes.

Finan grasped Sihtric by the face with both hands.

“What happened?” he demanded and Sihtric swallowed thickly.

“He said her name,” he rasped horsley, “He said her name and it threw me off center.”

Finan looked puzzled for a moment before Sihtric continued “He says that she is a whore and there is another man humping my wife.”

His stomach twisted and he was hurling all its contents upon the ground as Finan ran a worried hand through his hair.

Sihtric rode in silence. Just this morning his heart had been pining for you. He had imagined the softness of your hands against his hardened skin, the swell of your breast when you reached up to wrap your arms around him and the comfort of your embrace, but now he felt shame and rage at having left you for so long that you would go looking for solace in the arms of another man.

Beocca had added salt to his wounds when he teased “I hear your wife has returned to her old profession,” and after a pause he added “Humping for coin,” as if Sihtric wasn’t all too familiar with what your old profession was.

He had drawn out to strike the priest but Uhtred had intervened before any of his blows could land.

It was no secret that Sihtric had married an alehouse whore, but nobody had ever seen the broken woman that Sihtric had fallen in love with. The one who cried at his tenderness. The one who begged him to return to her time and time again. The one who begged him to take her away from the alehouse where men could pay to hurt her and own her body for the night, and the one who had shown him nothing but love and acceptance and faithfulness from the moment he made her his wife. You had never wanted that life for yourself and Sihtric was the only man to ever see you beyond a quick hump, and he was certain you were the only person in the world who had ever seen him for who he truly was. Would you really have returned to that world willingly? The logical parts of Sihtric’s brain wanted to dismiss the rumours, but the seeds of doubt had been sown and now he felt hollow.

They stopped for the night to allow the horses to rest and Finan arrived back to the table with a round of ales.

“Sihtric, she has never so much as looked at another man in the years since you wed,” Uhtred tried to reassure but he knew his words were falling on deaf ears, despite Osferth and Finan’s agreement.

Sihtric merely sat sullen, staring at his drink.

“Where is the Sihtric who begged me to allow him to marry his love? He would not have crumbled now by the words of a few others.”

“It is different now,” Sihtric sighed, taking a long gulp of his ale.

“Sihtric,” Finan tried softly “I have never seen y/n look at anyone the way she looks at you. It is like you are the only person that matters in any room she is in, and you know this. You don’t want to listen to us now but I know that you know this.”

Sihtric’s heart fluttered because he wanted to believe Finan, he wanted to believe you, but deep inside he had always carried a burning fear that he was never enough for you.

He had enough of Uhtred and Finan trying to placate him, so with his drink in hand he made his way toward the one person he believed would be honest with him, Beocca.

“Sihtric,” he sighed “I said what I said in jest. To tease. I don’t believe a word of it so I assumed you would not either.”

“I need to know what’s being said,” Sihtric sighed, collapsing down opposite him and Beocca eyed him suspiciously.

“What good will it do to listen to idle gossip?”

“I need to know!” Sihtric urged.

Beocca sighed a long, drawn out sigh before he nodded and began, “She has been seen with the blacksmith's son.”

“Where?” Sihtric demanded, and Beocca took an intake of break.

“Both going into his quarters and- and in your home.”

Sihtric looked crestfallen and then absolutely furious, as he contemplated that you might have had another man in the home he had provided for you.

“I do believe that there is a reasonable explanation,” Beocca offered and Sihtric spat, “Yes, that my wife is a whore.”

The ride back to Winchester usually filled Sihtric’s heart with excitement but this time he wished the ride would never end.

His heart was broken, so much so that last night he felt like he would die, silent tears and violent sobs wracked him in the room he shared with Finan but if the Irishman heard he at least pretended that he didn’t, and for this Sihtric was grateful.

Usually, Sihtric would be stopping and swooping to pick up every wild flower that he deemed perfect to put into the bouquet he would present sheepishly to you when he swooped you up into his arms- but not today.

He paused at the door, not ready to face the storm that was waiting inside, but then his heart sank to his toes, pressing his ear to the door he could hear you laughing softly inside.

He pressed his forehead against the cool wood of the door, his palms resting against the rough grain either side of his head and he shook, listening to your beautiful voice inside blissfully unaware that he was coming in to blow your whole life apart and then red hot fury overtook him when he heard the voice of a man. He turned on his heel and made his way to the alehouse where he drank until he was almost stupid and by the time he returned home the sun had set and his home was silent.

“Sihtric!” you exclaimed voice full of surprise and joy as you ran to greet him,throwing your arms around him and placing a kiss against his temple, glee slowly slipping from your expression as he went rigid in your arms, and refused to kiss you back, and the unmistakable scent of ale filled your senses.

“What is it my love? Are you hurt?” you asked slowly, taking a step back to examine his hardened expression.

“Is it true?” he asked, face and voice devoid of any emotion “You and the blacksmith’s son, is it true?”

“The blacksmith’s son?” you questioned as your heart began to thump in your chest.

“Is it true that after everything I have given you, you are humping the blacksmith's son for coin, here, under my roof. The very roof I put over your head.”

“Sihtric,” you cried, taking a step toward him, only to have him step away from you, “Months…Months you’ve been gone. Leaving me here alone and this is what you return and accuse me of? This is your opinion of me?”

“It is what half the men believe. You have been seen. I cannot believe that if you were to return to your old ways, you would do so with such little care for me, for us.”

“Return to my old ways?” you shrieked “Because no matter what fine dresses I wear, or how much I show you that I love you and only you, underneath it all I will only ever be an alehouse whore to you is it?”

“I took you from that life,” Sihtric spat, “I gave you everything, all I asked in return was that you loved me, that you kept your vows to me.”

“And I have,” you cried but he refused to meet your gaze so you turned on your heel, and began rummaging through a cupboard in the kitchen before returning with a leather pouch, in your shaking hands.

“You wanted to know what I was doing with Eadwyn, here. I wanted it to be a surprise,” tears were in your eyes as you thrusted the pouch into his hands “I had it made so that you would always have a piece of us wherever you went, but now…now it is tainted.”

Sihtric opened the pouch to find a silver dagger inside, the blade was forged in steel with a sharp, tapering edge, that almost gleamed in the light. The hilt of the dagger was inlaid with intricate, interwoven patterns and embedded in the decorative pommel was a red gem that Sihtric would have recognised anywhere. It had been his wedding present to you, a beautiful necklace that you had worn on the day you made your vows.

Sihtric’s eyes were glazed with tears as he looked at you trying to form words but coming up short.

“How did you afford this?” he gasped, and you laughed spitefully.

“I did not hump him,” you spat. “You want to know why he has been coming here at night? In exchange for him making this for you, I have been teaching him to read. He comes here after working in the forge all day and I teach him to read. He wishes to be a commander in Alfred’s fleet, and the king will not allow anyone unable to read to do so.”

“Y/n?” he cried mismatched eyes searching your own ones desperately.

But you put your hands up to prevent him taking another step towards you.

“You think you saved me, Sihtric Kjartansson? But I chose you. You think you were the first to profess love to me? To wish to take my hand in marriage, you were not. But. I. Chose. You. I gave you all. All the best parts of me. All the parts I saved only for you, because I loved you, I wanted to be loved by you, but now you have ripped my heart out and I have nothing left to give you.”

He tried to take another step toward you but you ducked past him storming out the door and slamming it closed behind you.

It was well past midnight when you found yourself pounding on the door of the nunnery, tears streaming down your face, as Hild scooped you into your embrace and pulled you to her in an all encompassing hug.

You cried yourself to sleep on the tiny straw bed and it felt like a darkness had swallowed you whole.

For weeks now Sihtric had been going out of his mind. Weight was dropping from his bones because he simply could not eat. Sleep was a concept he simply could not remember and despite never having felt so drained in all his life he could not rest.

Finan and Uhtred had tried their best to pull him from his sadness but he simply could not speak. He had completely retreated within, somewhere that his friends could not find him and pluck him from.

Osferth would never tell his friends this but there was a night where he physically held Sihtric in his arms after he arrived to find him crumpled over in pain on the floor. He was falling apart without you and it was all his own doing.

He didn’t even give you the chance to explain.

He had already made his mind up before he even asked you for an explanation.

And he would never forget the wild look in your eyes as you fell out of love with him.

Osferth burst into the alehouse where Sihtric was sipping on a tankard of ale with Finan and Uhtred, a piece of parchment in hand.

“She is with Hild,” he announced and Sihtric was rising quicker than a bolt of lightning, “Ready the horses,” he commanded and his friends were also springing into action.

Hild stood firm, arms folded across her chest, refusing to move aside and Sihtric rounded on her tears pooling in his eyes “Please. Please Hild I have to try make this right. I have to try.”

She reluctantly moved aside and sighed “She is in the orchard.”

Sihtric spotted you before you saw him, you looked utterly worn out. The skin around your eyes was red from crying and his stomach churned with the guilt that he had put the tears in your eyes.

“Y/n,” he tried weakly and you dropped the apron of apples you had gathered in shock, face contorting in pain when you saw him before you.

“How can I ever begin to make up for this y/n?” he begged and you shook your head as a single tear slipped down your cheek.

“I don’t think you can Sihtric,” you cried and he gasped a sob.

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

“Can’t you see what you’ve done?” you cried “You reduced me to nothing but a whore in your mind and heart because of some stupid lies and speculation. You didn’t even offer me the grace to explain myself because you have already decided that I can never be anything more than my past. How can I ever forget that? I can accept being a whore to everyone else Sihtric but for all these years I always believed I was more to you.”

“I let my insecurities lead my judgement,” he cried “All this time I could never believe that someone as beautiful as you chose me. I have always thought you deserved better than I could ever give, I was too blinded by my own fears and shortcomings to think clearly. But for all of that I am here before you begging you to love me again. I can’t be without you, life is unbearable without you.”

“You’ve shattered my heart, Sihtric. I don’t know if I can allow myself to love again, it is too painful, I won't live the rest of my life knowing you think I cannot be trusted when all I have ever done is be a faithful wife to you.”

Sihtric shook his head wildly, grasping your hands, heart breaking when you snatched them back.

“I will do whatever it takes to prove to you that I am not this man who has hurt you, mistreated you and made you cry. I love you more than anything on this earth. Allow me to rebuild our trust, because I will never doubt you another day again as long as there is breath in my lungs. And maybe..Maybe in time you could find your way to love me again.”

“I never stopped loving you,” you whispered “It is you who abandoned me.”

Sihtric had enough of distance and pulled you to him in a crushing embrace, relieved when you allowed him to scoop you closer, your head falling upon his shoulder as he wrapped his fingers up in your hair.

Your tears felt warm as they fell on his forearms and he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling that all familiar scent of home.

“Can you love me again?” he pleaded in a soft whisper against your skin, and you nodded gently in his arms.

“I will never doubt you another day of my life,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your hair, and then cupping your face in his hands he rested his forehead against yours “I promise to never take you or our love for granted again.” he vowed and you nodded in his hands.

“Believe me when I say, you are the only man I have ever loved, and I will never leave you for another. I am yours and I give you all, there is no room for another.”

Sihtric had to accept the fact that he had to believe what you were telling him now, he had allowed his insecurities to pull you apart once before. But never again.

The weight of both of your pasts would slowly ease. There would surely be more challenges to come and times where love would be tested and strained But never again would your trust in one another waver or the commitment and vows you made to one another.

And with Sihtric in your arms sleeping soundly you could finally release the heaviness you had been carrying since you had left Winchester in disgrace of your past, and your husband’s accusations.

Tagging: @canyonmoon-2@sihtricfedaraaahvicius@whitedarkmoonflower@shamrockqueen@thenameswinter99@foxyanon@acdassenza@thatawkwardlittlefangirl @gemini-mama

#sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom fic

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curvykittyyssmutfics · 10 months

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o.k I am a fan of bruce wayne/batman, so i would like you to write where bruce wayne has a short-size bossy assistant, reader who knew about his batman vigilante secret and he has a secret crush on him. She teased him, one day wearing a short skirt in a hot summer, made him want to bang her against the office table

The Proposal

So estastic to finally have a night off work, I enthusiastically hum while the evening news plays low in the background as I put the finishing touches on my look. Running my fingers through my long, soft, dark tresses, I twist left and right to asses my sultry outfit through the body length mirror on the wall of my bedroom. I do one spin, then another, smirking at the way my mini skirt barely covers my plump chocolate rear.

I cannot believe Bruce is actually gonna let me outta his sight for more than 2 seconds. It's a God damn miracle and I plan on shakin my ass with my girls all night while sippin the fruitiest dranks I can buy. That is till I hear my phone vibrate and beep from my vanity beside me, notifying me of an incoming text. Hmm.. Need I guess who the fuck that is? I roll my eyes as I grab my phone and see a text from Bruce Wayne tellin, not askin, me to come do his bidding.

Bruce: Hey, honey. Come by the office round 10 tonight and drop of the proposal we've been working on.

Seriously? It was my first night off in 2 weeks and here's comes the infamous Batman, swoopin in to destroy my plans. So, his sexy ass refuses to fuck me and release the tension from years of workin under him but not letting me actually be under him- yet commands I wait on him hand and foot.

My eyes almost tear up from the immediate disappointment and frustration I feel. Not being dicked down in over a year was making my need for a good fuck damn near animalistic. The concept of a fun evening with the possibility of gettin some dick, since Bruce's fine ass ignored each and every one of my filthy advances, is now completely ruined; makes me have to take a deep breath before I pick up my glitter encased cellphone.

Me: Whyyyy? This is the only night I have off for like another couple of weeks and I have plans. Can't you reschedule?

His response back is lighting fast and I can't help but give a small giggle as I imagine his sexy stern ass all frowned up, nostrils flaring at the prospect of me not givin in to his demands instantly. Bruce isn't the kinda man that likes to be told no. Plus, the proposal we'd recently been working on was imperative to the deal he was currently trying to close. Still, I wouldn't be me if I didn't turn into a full blown brat with him for impeding my plans.

Bruce: Late night meeting, no cannot reschedule. Also, thought you said you were staying home tonight..

Me: Omfg Bruce. My girls begged me to go out tonight so I changed my mind! Didn't know I had to goddamn call and let you know.

Jesus did this man have to always interrogate me on every aspect of my life? He knows everything about me- though it was fair to say I knew him almost as well as Alfred. And it was kinda exciting to secretly know about his extracurricular activities, even if that had less to do with any honesty on his part and more to do with my snoopy ass overhearing a heated conversation between him and his long time friend about hanging up the the towel.

Bruce: Well now you know, sweetheart. What time will you be here?

Condescending bastard! He really never has a doubt that he can bend me to his every whim and normally he fucking can but it's time to get a rile outta him.

Me: Well if I gotta cancel my plans to get some fuckin dick tonight then I think I'll take my sweet fuckin time!

His response isn't as quick this time but it's short enough to know I ticked him off. Serves him right, his 'I can't have you but nobody else can' attitude was tiring.

Bruce: You have 15 minutes.

I roll my eyes at his attempt to scare me as I pull up the Uber app and tap in his office's address. Before I can confirm I hear a firm knock on my apartments front door and Alfred's voice speaking loudly from the other side.

"Ms. y/l/n, Mr. Wayne has sent me to come get you. I've recently been updated that he's in no mood to be kept waiting."

Uh oh, perhaps I should've thought this through. I'm not sure how mad he is or what he'll say when he sees me and now I'm directly and knowingly heading into to the lions cage.

"Coming!" I yell back, grabbing the file from drawer and heading for the door.

30 mins later

I exit the elevator and quickly rush to the where Bruce waits for me, catching a glimpse of my reflection through the glass walls of the other conference rooms. I wish I had time to change the skimpy outfit adorning my frame, doing nothing to contain my juicy ass cheeks as I lightly jog to the room where the meetings being held.

I don't bother knocking, quickly entering the room silently. Walking up behind Bruce sitting like a king at the end of the table as he talks on his cellphone, leaning back lazily in his chair with spread legs. His hips flex in his crisp midnight blue suit as he readjusts himself in his seat. The hefty bulge between his legs draws my eyes for a hot second as he spins slowly in his chair to look at me.

It's as if in an instant he's hungry, eyes sharply roving over every inch of me as he licks his lips sensually. He openly stares at the way my mini skirt barely covers my bottom, how my sheer top does nothing to hide my puckered nipples. The loud expletive he groans out as he eyefucks me goes straight to my empty core, has my abandoned, untouched little hole fluttering as I start to get wet.

"Nah I'm good, stomache ache. Let them know who you're here for when you arrive and someone will let you up. We can go over the proposal and see if you agree to the terms."

Bruce hangs up and sets his phone on the long light brown table that stretches across the room as he looks at me slowly from head to toe; wide dark brown eyes that linger at my plump tits and curvy hips. His mouth open and closes a few times, his shoulders now tense as hell as he sits stiff in his seat and stares at my outfit.

"You really are a fuckin brat, you know that? Did I not fuckin tell you to be here in 15?" He snarls at me, quickly standing to grab the file from between my fingers and toss it next to his phone.

The aggressive action has me swiftly backing up, not being able to take more than few steps before my back hits the wall. Absolutely shocked at the way he stalks towards me, arm quickly stretching out to grip my throat. One of his thick eyebrows remain raised as he waits for me to respond.

"I'm sor- sorry, sir. Traffic-" I stutter out, voice low.

"Yeah the fuck right, dont gimme that bullshit. We both know you think you can say and do whatever the fuck you want with me and I'm not into that, sweetheart. Unless you count me enjoyin punishing your pretty ass for it." He tells me, leaning so close that the tips of our noses almost touch.

My heart pounds as his hand squeezes a bit firmer at my neck, the other smoothing down the side of my tits and torso to my hips and thick brown thighs. The bulky protrusion between his legs presses against my center, makin me weakly grasp at his suit jacket as I lewdly hump at him.

"You look so damn gorgeous rubbing against me like this. Almost distracts me from the fact that you left your house dressed like a fuckin whore."

The mean words and sharp smack to the inside of my thigh makes me yelp his name pathetically; has me spreading my legs as I try to fuck him through his clothing, already so damn close to beggin him to touch me. The sting of the slap is so welcoming, has my eyes and pussy simultaneously getting wet.

"Look at you, tiny little fuckin skirt.. Bet you woulda showed off all my fuckin curves tonight huh? Would done more than that. What didcha say earlier? You had plans to get some dick tonight?" He asks me, pressing me closer between him and the wall.

Bruce smells so fuckin good, the clean smell of a fresh shower and his Burberry cologne mixing deliciously. That plus the shock of his abrasive approach quickly culminates into wanton need. I can't care that I'm already rendered speechless, that I can only gasp for air like a fish outta water at his filthy words.

"You sure fuckin do. But now you wanna be quiet, cant even answer cause your slidin that little pussy allover my lap. Now you wanna act like your my good girl. Actin like your nothing more than my own little slut. Cant take you constantly goading me into fucking you whenever you see me. I can't goddamn take it anymore!"

He lets go of my throat to drop to his knees and lift my mini skirt up. Doesn't waste a second pulling my silky baby blue thong to the side and slurping at the opening of my pussy. I wail as he messily licks inside of me, his tongue jabbing repeatedly to get inside. Nails of both hands scratching at the wall behind me, I come unglued at the intense pleasure he suddenly forces on me.

"Plee- ahhh! P-pleeeeeea-se! Haah, uhnuhnuhnuhn Bru- ah!!" I stutter out my pleasure as I look down and meet his eyes.

The way he takes me in as he devours has me trembling even more against his mouth. As much as I need this, I'm too fucking sensitive. From the way Bruce stares as he eats me it's obvious he knows; is fucking using it to his advantage as his grips each of my ass cheeks and pulls me onto his mouth and fucks me with his tongue as deep as he can. His filthy moans about how good I taste but how bad I am are muffled against my cunt.

His right hand slides down my smooth brown skin, rubbing and groping my thick thighs. He sensually massages down my leg to my calf before slowly making his way back up to my clenched cheeks. A hard smack resonates through me and I shove upwards off his mouth from the impact. His answering growl as he pulls me backs down is clear: don't fucking pull away again.

"Toomuch! Ohohoh pleeeeeeease Bruce!"

He sends me into a blissful spiral, the intense sensation spiking in my core. I'm begging for the torture to end, for him to make me cum. But he only wiggles his tongue inside me widly as he moves his hands to my pussy lips and spreads them wider so he can get deeper.

My eyes must be at the back of my skull from the force of how they roll eye back. I wordlessly plead for reprieve, which he seems to only delight in. He chuckles heartily into the pink of me as he leers at my tits jiggling underneath my shirt.

I'm sure my souls about to rip out my body when I feel his thumb lightly swipe at my throbbing clit once. The tumultuous orgasm tumbling to the surface frightens me, has me seriously doubting my endurance to take it. So it's no fault of mine that I tug at my bosses short brown locks, ripping his swollen lips from my frantically pulsating pussy. He stares at me through narrowed eyes, his straight nose inna prominent snarl as I apologize profusely.

"Imsorryi'msorryi'msorry!" I rush out with heavy breaths and a heaving chest.

"No the fuck you're not, goddamn brat." He spits out as he stands and lifts me up against his strong chest with hands to the back of my thighs.

Walking me to the conference table, Bruce's sits me down atop it. He says nothing, towering above me as he looks down at while unbuckling his belt. His stare is lecherous while unbottoms his pants, so god damn domineering as he pulls out his twitching monster cock and presses it through the wetness between my legs.

It's not gonna fit, no way it'll fit. His dick is to thick, somehow his tip flaring out to become even wider. It's fuckin scary and thats without describing the girthy shaft. Still, I moan at the breathtaking feeling of him tappin the head at my opening. Even though my sweaty body is tense, my insides quiver rapidly hoping to catch his tip.

"I have a proposal for you too, y/n.." He leans in close to whisper against my lips, blocking me from the view of his fat cock at my entrance. "Your gonna take this dick like a good girl and I might not fuck your pretty little mouth and bust down your throat till your unconscious. You agree to the terms?"

I nod slowly, helplessly, my gaze briefly straying to his swollen mouth. Knowing how he ate me moments before and the way he damn near pins me to the table now that he's not letting me go till he's done.

"Look at you being a good girl for once." He compliments, smacking my sensitive clit with his rigid dick over and over.

My eyes roll back as I shout Bruce's name repeatedly, feeling my orgasm race back to the surface with double the intensity. My frame shakes like a leaf underneath him as my back arches and I dig my nails into the wood table beneath me. My mean ass boss only slaps his dick at my pulsing little gem quicker, drinking in my frantic reaction.

He greedily soaks in my pitiful body in the throes of the best orgasm I've ever received. The smile on his face is sinister, so damn dangerous as he replaces his dick with his thumb, sliding the head of his dick to my opening and shoving between my drenched, unprepared fluttering walls.

Time almost seems to stand still, as my lids fly open and I choke, trying and failing to pull in a gasping breaths against his pretty pink lips as he bullies his cock into my pussy while I'm still cumming. He groans like a wounded animal and I'm fucking alarmed that he actually gets in on the first push, though no explanation is needed for the unbearable pressure weighing in my gut.

My legs kick out behind him uncontrollably while I grip onto his suit jacket for dear life and stare at him with big teary eyes. Try as I might to inch off Bruce's cock by scooting backwards, I don't get very far before he's gripping me and pullin me back onto his leaking dick by my neck again.

"Keep. Fuckin. Still!"

Each word accentuated by him sliding in and out of my little hole. His other hand holds himself above me as he fucks into me roughly. My head thrashes side to side as I apologize nonstop. Hair from my two buns loosens and falls, sticking to the perspiration on my face.

"Oooooooh fuck, I can't believe I waited so loooong! Ah, ah, ah, pussyfeelssogood! Uhn, fuck y/n! Not gonna last, too damn tight.. so weeet! Haaaaah!"

His cock digs deep, finally in a bit more than half way as he pumps into me ferociously. It's so fuckin amazing, nothings ever felt so good, so intense. I light years beyond coherence as drool unknowingly seeps from the corner of my mouth as I share my pleasure into the air. All my strength is split between processing the sensations between my legs and breathing.

"Fuuuuuck, sweety.. Gonna make me nut so damn hard. You want that? Fill that pretty little pussy till I can't anymore?

Bruce's grip around my throat tightens and it's a bit hard to breath but my normal reaction of instant panic is delayed by the dizzy feeling filling my head. I'm unaware of the suffocating clenches my pussy gives the big dick invading my insides as he huffs and puffs his pleasure at my ear.

"Ooooh shit, your so perfecttome! Haaaa! Mmmm sweetheart, made for me huh? Uhn, thaaaas a good fuckin girl!"

His back hunches him over my body as he stabs in to the hilt, grinding his pelvis into mine as holds my seizing body to the table. The sudden unlimited pressure against my button sends me off; I take in as much air as I can unaware that my hips lightly hump back at him. Black and white spots dot in and out of my vision as the pressure in my tummy explodes through my battered cunt.

I squirt all over Bruce's suit, sliding my hands through his freshly cut hair down his neck to claw at his thick, muscular shoulders. His name is all I know as I desperately cry it out more times than I can count. No man has fucked to the point of tears and I'd tell him that if I could formulate sentences at the moment.

But I know he's in the same boat as his fingers loosen around my neck and he bites his lip hard, eyebrows drawn together from the way my pussy milks the cum from his cock.

"Oh heeell.. Fuuuuuuuuck, take it honey! Aaaaahhh, that's it, allforyouy/n! Take this nut like a gooooood giiiirrrrl!" He groans, eyes locked where we connect as he continuously pumps into me at his leisure.

It feels foreign but oh so fuckin welcoming as large splashes of cum gush my already soakin wet pussy. My needy insides clasp at Bruce's cock as if demanding he shoot more. He definitely fulfills his promise of stuffing my puffy cunt till she leaks.

"Mmmmm.. oh my fuckin God princess. You okay?" He asks between tiny grunts of pleasure, his hips still slowly pumping his cock into me.

I'm not sure how he expects me to answer; my lungs feel tight and my head is so fuzzy. I fight to steady my breathing, fingers remaining inna death grip around his shoulders. I finally feel the heavy trails of make up streaking down my chest and my wavy hair sticking to my sweaty temples. I know I looked fucked out to the max.

I can't even muster energy to cover myself as my head falls limply to the right and I see a group of men staring lewdly at us through the glass walls, each with a tented bulge in their business attire.

Bruce's phone beeps at that moment and he leans over slightly to read the text aloud.

"We agree to your terms of the proposal." He says with a dazzling smile.

Yeah, I fucking bet..

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #smut #black reader #all readers #dirty talk #creamp!e #rough smut #sub reader #submisive and breedable

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esmiara · 1 year

Text

As promised, let me introduce you my two beloved BSD OCs:

Who are they?

Basically, Lewis and Antoine are two friends traveling around the world to discover exciting places while avoiding various government forces (more on that later). Though not related to the main story of BSD, they do know about organisations like Port Mafia and the Agency, mainly from what they heard in the streets and read in the newspapers since they arrived in Yokohama. However, they do prefer to not get anyone involved in their issues, nor do they really want to get involved in anyone else’s.

Lewis Carroll

Based on the author of Alice in Wonderland, Lewis was a man in his thirties with a fancy mind. As a child, he once had a wild imagination feeding his ability Wonderland (again, more on that later) but due to social and family pressure, he got forced upon a path of logic and perfection, now making it hard for him to think outside the box. Thus crushing his past self involuntarily and putting chains on his own mind in order to protect himself from outside complaints. As an adult, he became a plain math teacher for children, with a quite boring life. That is, until he met one certain child in London.

Their meeting

“Draw me a sheep.” said the unknown child out of the blue.

Lewis was stunned. He didn’t knew what to respond at first to this child, which he thought was one of his students. But when he put more thought on it, he didn’t looked like any child he had at the time. Who might have been this strange blond kid with unkept clothes? He decided to learn more about him, worried he may have lost his parents somewhere. However, as they talked, he quickly understood he didn’t had any. He simply didn’t knew about any “parents”. Actually, he didn’t knew much about the world itself either.

“Draw me a sheep!” repeated the child after a while of interrogative discussion about who he was, where he came from etc....

Lewis gently asked why such a demand, as he didn’t want to offend this possible lost orphan.

The boy fell silent. Then spoke again, a sad emptiness darkening his young blue eyes.

“I want a warm friend to bring with me” he simply responded.

Their exchange may have been succinct up to this point, but it was clear to Lewis that he was no normal child. As the boy seemingly didn’t have a name, Lewis gave him the name of one of his most beloved book’s author. The character of that one book simply reminded him of the boy.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

More based on the Little Prince’s main character than the actual author, Antoine was an enigmatic individual with the physical appearance of a young boy. Nobody knows of his real age, not even himself. However, most may have theorized that he at least was around for at least a few decades, if not centuries perhaps. One day found and caught by the french government in his - supposedly - hometown, he had no memories of his time before then, except for some vague fragments. He mostly remembered about this laboratory he was brought in, with a lonely room where he would occasionnally meet strangers dressed in white. Despite the many uncertainties surrounding him, Antoine was still of great interest for scientists. He didn't seemed to physically age at all. Could he hold the secret of cells regeneration or even immortality? They soon found out he did age but at a very slow pace, thus looking unchanged for many years.

Curious about this plausible new ability, they decided to make him meet a young girl, who would share his room from now on. This one girl was quite arrogant at first. Antoine didn't really like her attitude but she was the only other person he could befriend. So they did. They soon became friends. Then they learned more about the truth, may it be this girl's past, snatched from her orphanage to become a lab rat as well, or the whole reason why she was here with him in the first place.

It was all because of the young girl's ability. One that would let her copy another one and make it her own. They apparently wished to make a copy of test subject B612′s power in order to "save it” somewhere and be able to experiment on it without having to risk the boy’s life. But things didn't turned out like they wanted as the girl began to crumble under some unknown sickness. Her body couldn't handle Antoine's ability, so it seemed, and she quickly became unable to move. So she made a promise with Antoine:

“Be my eyes and explore the outer world, okay dumby?” she said, with little breath she had left.

A promise reminiscent of the one where they would explore and see the world together. One where he would do so if she couldn't follow, to make her dream come true even when she became a star.

Their abilities

Little prince

No one really knows the details about Antoine's ability. Everything we know for sure is that his body has a very long lifetime, yet not immortal. He is destined to die of aging one day and is still weak to any wound like anyone else. However, we did notice Antoine's body starts to produce a faint glow whenever he gets sick or when his life is in danger in general. Not that it really helps at all though.

Wonderland

Lewis' ability is a bit complex and confusing, much like Alice in Wonderland's whole world.

In theory, Wonderland is quite simple: it allows its bearer to create anything he thinks to be a nonsense, something that is normally impossible. It could be seen as an area surrounding the user, in which he can create anything he wants, as long as it meets the proper requirements (being a "nonsense").

However, as the whole definition of "nonsense" depends on the user's mind, one could have a hard time creating anything. As such, what could be a nonsense to someone isn't necessarily one for Lewis. He is still quite a peculiar man after all.

A strange man, but with many restrictions on his mind and imagination. As he was forced to think with logic for the most part of his life now, he can't stop asking himself about the specifics of one’s question. Where a visible nonsense would occur, Lewis' mind would subconsciously ponder over what could make it truly real or impossible. If he can't get proper answers to those questions, then it can't happen either.

The beginning of their adventures

As they became much closer as people who somehow understood each other, Lewis began to be more friendly with the child, rather than looking like a mere adult talking to a little one. He saw himself in his struggles. He saw a young mind, much like his own a long time ago, slowly getting crushed by adult's expectations and limiting his own thoughts. He couldn't let the same thing happen twice when they still had a choice. So he encouraged him to get creative and let free of his imagination, with no worries about exterior opinions.

One day however, they suddenly got caught off guard by militaries sent by the french government as well as some members of the Order of the Clocktower, there to retrieve the unknown child for their own purpose instead. It was at that time that Lewis was finally able to make use of his ability once more after so many years. Inspired by Antoine’s naturally spoken nonsense, he unleashed Wonderland in order to escape. This also put a permanent stop to Lewis’ normal way of life, as he now was as searched for as Antoine was. It was time for a involuntary trip around the world, it seemed. But this time, Antoine wasn’t alone anymore.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd oc #bsd #bsd ocs #esmi ocs #bsd art #idk which tags to put at this point #long post #some angst #oc

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rubra-wav · 7 months

Text

Vox HCs entry #2

Warnings/CW: discussion of toxic masculinity, SFW

A/N: just various thoughts I've had about this man.

- He is a musical theatre/drama fan

He gives me this energy so much due to how dramatic he is in general. His first instinct when Alastor comes back is to instantly make a callout on live TV in the form of song. 💀

I feel like he listens to musicals in 'secret' - but it's not actually nearly as much as a secret as he thinks it is. I feel like in general he gets very loud when he's passionate or excited about something.

I just have a mental image of him thinking nobody in Vee tower can hear him while he absolutely yells the lyrics of a song with headphones on at full volume while dancing out the choreography to the song.

He'd deny everything about it if you brought this up however. He grew up in the 50's and due to that I feel as if he would be very insecure about it. I'll elaborate more on that in the next point.

- Still has a fair few beliefs to deconstruct

He is from around the 50's time period, and due to that I feel like he would have a lot of internalised toxic masculinity.

He is on and off with Val who's obviously GNC, so I think he doesn't gaf too much about others and what they wear and do anymore

But I think he has a lot of shit he directs towards himself still.

Elaborating on the liking theatre thing and denying it: I think he would stubbornly deny it because he thinks it's 'too feminine' for himself to be interested in and that he thinks it makes him 'less of a man' and shit kinda like that.

I also think because of this he also has horrendous perspectives on showing emotion.

It is already canon that he hides behind a mask at all times, but I feel like even if he 100% trusts someone to be genuine around them he still wouldn't let himself do so due to thinking he's 'less man' if he does things like cry or directly seek any kind of support - especially emotional - outside of his usual compliment fishing behaviours.

I don't think his perspectives usually pertain to others as he's had a lot of exposure to different more up-to-date / nonconforming people with Val and Vel - but I do definitely feel like he has hella internalised bullshit.

Dating him in this aspect would be hard because you would need to be there reassuring him that it's okay to do things which society deems as 'feminine' - especially with what 1950's society deemed as being normal and abnormal for men.

He needs reassurance so bad about it.

I can see him as trying to keep up his mask of not needing any kind of help from you even when it's obvious he's cracking under whatever (pressure, overwhelm, stress, etc. Etc.)

- This man can't dress himself well for shit

(Mostly based upon past Voxtagram posts)

This man's closet outside of his usual outfits is largely button-up/polo shirts and cargo shorts with the most horrifically ugly patterns you've ever seen in your life.

The only reason his outfits look good ever is because of Vel forcing him to not dress like shit.

I can imagine him walking out of his room in a blue and red polo and black cargo shorts with a snapback on and Velvette and Valentino just looking at him in utter horror. 💀

I also like the idea of him having equally chaotic socks. Like you have the usual put together outfit he has on, but then he takes off his shoes, and they are eye shatteringly ugly with words printed on them.

It's ironic because if you date him he will be probably pissy about you dressing well going out together.

He's a hypocrite 🙏

- He doesn't like sweets

I can see him as not liking things that are sweet at all.

He absolutely takes his coffee black as well, it's the most bitterest gag-worthy flavour ever and you are terrified at how much he seems to like the taste.

The sweetest thing he does like in the way of drinks is diet coke.

I feel like he survives on energy drinks, but I don't think he enjoys them at all and just tolerates them.

He doesn't like desserts either. Maybe tiramisu but not frequently.

I can see him actually liking dark chocolate though. I feel like he likes bitter things.

He's totally an absolute cunt about it as well.

If he sees you having coffee with milk/creamer and sugar he's the type of person to go "ugh. I don't know how you can drink that." While fake gagging at you.

He's that mf

A/N I have multiple ideas for drabble/fics, but my brain decided to write this out for now.

If you like sweets a lot he would be annoying as fuck about it 100%

I'm a bit hesitant to post like full fics or drabbles as I don't want to in the moment be like 'yeah, this is great!' Then look at it the next morning and be tweaking out because it feels OOC or I could have worded things better. Perfectionism is a fucking nightmare 🗣/lh

#vox #hazbin hotel #vox headcanons #vox x reader

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grapejuicebrat · 2 months

Text

my worst

PAIRING: bbf!rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY: the more you try to fix him, the more you make it worse.

WORD COUNT: 1380

NOTES: based on this.

my masterlist

maybe it was a bad idea. maybe he was a bad idea.

maybe fucking your brother’s best friend wasn’t such a good idea. maybe falling in love with him wasn’t a good idea either. letting rafe ruin your life wasn’t a good idea but at the end of the day you loved him and trusted him. rafe was everything to you.

he was your protector and your lover. someone who could hide you from the rest of the world, who would hug you and tell you that everything will be okay and you would believe him without a doubt. because you were sure - rafe loved you. and you loved rafe.

actually it was something you wanted to believe in. that your secret relationship were not so fucked up from the very beginning. you closed your eyes when rafe was stalking you and gaslighting. didn’t hear anything when rafe told you to stop talking to your friends. didn’t say anything when you saw rafe snorting a line. because he’s a man, he is smarter than you. you don’t get to decide anything for him.

and now, three years later you were ready to write a letter to rafe. of course you could call him or text him but it wasn’t the same. you wanted to imagine how rafe would sit in his royal bedroom looking at this letter, rereading every word. remembering how you said every damn thing years ago. how you begged him to quit doing drugs. how you begged him to be a family with you. and he just shrugged, not believing that it was something he wanted to have.

and now rafe would give everything so he could just have you in his arms again.

“hey, rafe.

how are you doing? i want to believe that everything is okay. i asked topper a few times about you but he refuses even saying your name. and honestly i don’t judge him. i don’t have a right to judge me, you know? actually i was surprised that he didn’t stop talking to me after he found about our thing. but that’s not the point why i am writing this letter. don’t worry.

i had a lot of time to think. and you know what? finally i have some brave to tell you those things and finally let you go. i don’t know if you have someone beside you, and i tried my best not to reach out for you and don’t ask somebody about your love life. you know, just want to respect you and your private life because now i have no right to ask you about this since we are nobody to each other.

(and no, i can’t say that we are still friends. because we are not)

i wasn't crazy falling hard for you.

i’m used to liars, used to men using me, but you know what I'm not used to? you. you’re a different whole kind of pain. you're the type of pain that rips my vocal chords that I can't even scream. you're the type to dry my tears that 1 can't even cry.you’re the type that when I feel the slightest content, your memory stabs me in the heart. so yah, I'll take the liars, the manipulators, those men who objectify me over you because you... you made me love you with every intention of destroying the foundation i walk on just to watch me fall and stumble trying to come out of this alive.

I wish I could fix everything people broke in you. I wish I could erase every person who came into your life and left holes in your heart. I wish there was a way for me to rewind your past and erase every painful memory that made your life a little darker. I wish I had the power to go inside your heart and bring it back to what it used to be.I wish there was a way to go inside your heart and make it brave again. I wish I could just cleanse your heart and rid it of all the mess, all the chaos and all the heartbreaks. I wish I could show you the kind of love you've been missing but Rafe I've learned that love doesn't work that way and healing doesn't happen unless you feel it deep inside your soul.I learned that another human being can't tell you how you should feel or who you should love or what kind of heart you should have.

Love is the only force you can't fight even if you know you're going to lose and I wish I had the power to fight with you but darling that's one battle you're going to have to fight on your own. Because I'm also still healing. I'm still working on myself.

I'm still trying to bring my old heart back. And I'm still trying to find a way to fix everything people broke in me. I'm still trying to heal the wounds inside my heart. I'm still trying to be brave again. To trust again. To love again.And sometimes I wish there was a way for me to stay without losing myself. Sometimes I wish my journey was simple and linear so I can easily turn a blind eye to reality. To the facts that I know too well. To the struggles that I'm still trying to get through.But here I am, still trying to mend the broken pieces. Still trying to make sense of my journey and still very cautious because I'm not ready to break my own heart again.Because darling I've learned that just like can't force you to change your heart or the way you love, I can't force mine to change either. I've learned that if I can't help you heal, I have to let you go. I've learned that I need to heal myself first.

In 20 years, when my daughter asks me who my first love was, I'll think of you.

I will think of nights spent talking until the sun came up. I will think of the way your smile lit up my heart. I will think of the lessons you taught me, both before and after your broke my heart.

And I will look down at my daughter and tell her your name, I'll tell her how much I loved you, how dangerous it is to love somebody that much, how I had to learn to put myself back together again once you left.

I could tell her this funny story when I fell in love with my stalker. And how you stole my panties all the time. You thought I didn’t notice? Silly you. I just didn’t want this to end. I guess I always liked you. And I was attracted to you. I confess I’ve already been a little bit fucked up. That’s why everything was good at first.

Someday we will forget all about this. I will forget how you looked at me and I will stop dreaming about you every single night, wishing for you to come back. You will forget the way I laughed at every little thing you said and how I was different; happier, with you. We will be too far away from each other and we will have forgotten everything.

Someday, what we had wouldn't matter anymore, and I will never cry for you again.

But for now, I hope i’ll meet in any other life where we would be happy. And we’ll have a family of our own home. Like we’ve dreamed. But I don’t know, maybe it was just my dream and you didn’t want all of this. Sorry, if I said anything harmful.

We were never meant for each other. But I'm glad that even for a sheer moment It felt like we were.

But you made a mistake in your letter. Maybe you were meant to be. You and Rafe met in a wrong time. Right place.

i think i’ll rewrite it but anyways i hope you liked it! share your thoughts and add share your asks to my inbox i’ll gladly answer to them!

if you would like to be added to my taglist leave a comment or let me know by sending me in my ask!

oh and let me know if you want me to write more about their relationship before the break up!

taglist: @ivy-34

#Spotify #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

Text

Memories [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: the case of the self-appointed Fisher King comes with too many sentimental implications and you discover that you and Spencer had more in common than you imagined.

warnings: mention of mental illness and some trauma

A/N: directly based on 2x01 of the series "The Fisher King" part 2

people who might be interested: @c-m-stuff @no-soy-fer @synthsescape @bella-fics @cynbx (if you want to be removed or added tell me!)

To say that you were worried about the case was an understatement, you were actually terrified of what might happen. An unsub holding a hostage, who was also her daughter, and who knew so much about each member of the team, was worrying in itself. But Elle being in a hospital dying, the case being so tied to Reid's life, and you being so stupidly far from knowing where Randall Garner was, was what made you want to throw up everything you'd eaten during your interrupted vacation.

The team, as always, had split up and throughout the investigation you had stayed with Spencer and Garcia to try to crack the riddle, using the man's brain, the woman's internet find-anything skills, and your vast knowledge of the world of codes and literature. During that period you never believed that the doctor's mother would be involved, much less did you think that she would find herself in the… condition she was in. Throughout the time she was there, he treated her sweetly and calmly, but you couldn't help noticing the discomfort that was palpable in the environment. Not that he was ashamed of her, of course, although you figured he didn't visit her very often and it was obviously not her intention for the entire BAU to find out that her mother was a schizophrenic who was in a sanatorium.

You remembered, hours ago, asking Garcia to let you tell the man that his mother was fine when he requested a plane to bring her to Virginia, and all day you had that conversation etched in your mind like a tattoo on your skin.

"Your mom it's ok" you had said, approaching her desk and leaning on it to look at it "Agents picked her up. She's flying here right now” you completed, although he seemed too amused with the piece of evidence that he had in his hand and then you felt the need to say something else “How are you?”

"I feel kind of dumb, to tell you the truth," he replied. Most of the time he avoided looking at you, but you had already gotten used to it “I forgot she used to always read me this poem. And I think that I should have realized sooner than that”

"Why?"

“Nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collects butterflies except for me,” he said, with a guilt-tinged shrug. “People tell me their secrets all the time. Think it's because they know I don't have anyone to betray them to… except… my mother. I... I tell her pretty much everything”

"It’s fine”

“Do you know that I write her a letter every day?”

"That's very nice," you said sincerely, for the idea of the man carefully writing a letter to tell his mother about the day was a sweet image to imagine.

“It depends on why I write her”

"What do you mean?"

“I write her letters so I won't feel so guilty about not visiting her,” Reid added. If it hadn't been for that case, probably you, or anyone, would have known that his mother was hospitalized and you thought it was completely logical that he didn't want others to find out about that part of his life about him, including that he didn’t visit her. Spencer was always available for everything, always working, always alone in his apartment and now that you knew about Diana you understood why. He waited a moment and then finally made eye contact with you, looking somewhat fearful “Did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?”

And when he mentioned that your world fell apart. You understood that this was the reason why he didn't go with her; because he was afraid. You didn't know how to react, at least not at that moment, and you just looked at him sadly, feeling your own heart tighten a little at unfortunate memories.

Although, for work reasons, the talk hadn't gone any further than that, you'd thought about it all along, even now that you were all gathered to put the last pieces together of what you hoped would be a successful puzzle.

"Nevada? So we don't even know what state he's in?” Hotch muttered, already quite frustrated at how fruitless the search was turning out. There was little time left and you all knew it.

“I'll search the tax records, see if he owns any property”

"Excuse me," Diana Reid intervened from the chair next to the blackboard and her son practically jumped to try and stop her.

"Mom, do you know we're..."

“Just before the agents got me from the hospital, a man delivered this to me” she continued, ignoring “It's a photo of a house with an address on the back”

After showing her direction she turned the image and you saw what was a house that looked just like a castle, with illuminated windows, trees around, and a night sky.

“Shiloh, Virginia?”

“That's only 10 miles from here”

"Well, there's no time to waste. Morgan and Reid are coming with me”

"I want to go too," you said immediately. Something about the whole thing gave you a very bad feeling and you wished you could help in any way you could, but you were surprised to see that Spencer was the first to oppose your request.

“We don't want anyone else to get hurt, Y/N,” Morgan added, his voice almost pleading for you to obey Hotch's orders. You were in no position to demand a ride and only agreed because you knew that an argument would only take away valuable time. “We have to get ready. Reid, let's go.”

"I'll be back soon, mom"

"I'll stay with her" you suggested, hastening to take a step towards him, in an attempt to continue your mission to help.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," you said to reassure him. Diana already seemed quite satisfied with the fact that you were going to accompany her and you still didn't know why “Go. And be careful, please."

"I will" he nodded and immediately went after Morgan and Hotch, the three of them leaving the room to carry out the rescue mission. You had your heart in your hand for thinking about what could happen to them and only the woman's voice brought you back to reality.

"I'm glad you're the one who stays"

"Really?" you asked, somewhat flattered to think that she had liked you within a couple of hours of knowing you.

"Spencer talks to me about you all the time" she confessed and both you and the other two women present widened their eyes in surprise “He said you like literature"

"Yeah, I'd say so," you muttered, trying to smile at her to hide the nervous wreck you were, partly because of concern for your partners and partly because of what she had just told you.

"He's going to be fine, right?"

By God you hoped so. You didn't know what you would do if he got hurt or… he just didn't come back from there.

"Yes, I promise" you managed to say, as serenely as possible to try to keep your companion calm "And if you tell me about your favorite book? I imagine it will be a good one,” you said kindly, taking her arm and leading her to a couch where the two of you could sit. You knew that part of suggesting the talk was to distract yourself from the bleak outlook and thus kill time until the team returned.

Waiting was all you could do.

Diana had talked to you for a while until she ended up finding it more interesting to write in her notebook so you decided not to bother her, although she left you silent and ready for anxiety to grip you tight. After about an hour JJ herself had come to tell you that Elle was safe after surgery and you swore you could have cried with happiness when you found out. So, the pain that stayed in your chest was just from waiting for news from the three remaining agents and when what felt like an eternity passed without receiving any reports you couldn't take it anymore and apologized to Diana to leave the room. with the excuse that you needed to go to the bathroom. You were confident that she would not be a suicidal or aggressive patient, but you still wanted to hurry to get back to her as soon as possible, and when you had barely walked a section of the corridor you met a gangly figure who was already on his way to look for you.

"Rebeca?"

“She's safe” was the first thing you said, making the knot in your stomach finally dissolve “But Randall died. He blew himself up,” he continued, and you thought you wished you had heard a better outcome, even if the man was a criminal “And my mom?”

"Calm. Writing” you assured him, taking a few steps towards him to get a better look at him. He was dirty and what would later be a bruise could be seen on the left side of his face, but other than that he seemed to be safe and sound. "Is everyone there okay?"

"Yes," he breathed out. It was a relief to know that, it was a relief that things were finally over and that no one had been lost.

“I'm so grateful to hear that, Reid,” you said. You stretched your fingers up to his side and ran the tips over the mark that was beginning to form. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"No," he assured you, with a tight-lipped smile.

"Your mother. It will make her happy to know that you're back" you murmured immediately, and tried to go back the way you had come to go tell him, but he held out a hand to stop you "What's wrong?"

"Do you think I could take a moment before going with her?" he asked you and you retraced your steps to face him, still not letting go of his hand. You nodded and he sat on the floor with his legs drawn up and his back leaning against the wall in an attempt to calm down a bit from the adrenaline rush of all the previous events. You dropped down next to him in the same position and looked at his profile, thinking that if you had something to say, now was the time to talk.

“She told me you talk about me all the time,” you ventured, and he bit back an embarrassed smile.

"You weren't supposed to have found out about that"

"So you say bad things about me?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"No" you answered kindly.

"It's a relief"

“So these are definitely bad things, huh,” you teased, pushing your shoulder against his and seeing him shake his head slightly, too embarrassed to admit what he had written to his mother about you. You were silent for a moment as it didn’t seem that he had any intention of getting up to cross to the meeting room, you spoke again "Do you really not want to see her?"

“It's not that I don't want to see her, it's just that dealing with everything sometimes is so… so hard. You wouldn't understand,” he told you, his voice threatening to crack at any moment. You took a deep breath before opening your mouth to reply and the lonely hallway muffled your words, which were barely a whisper.

"What do you know about Alzheimer, Reid?" saying this, he turned a little to look at you, just in case he had misheard, but he realized that now it was you who wasn't looking at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Alzheimer" you repeated.

"Huh, it's a type of dementia that causes problems with memory, thinking, and behavior," he replied, still not quite sure why you were asking, “It is progressive, which means dementia symptoms gradually worsen over the years, and it is also the sixth leading cause of death in the United States. Live an average of eight years after symptoms become apparent, but survival can range from four to 20 years, depending on age and other health conditions. There is currently no cure."

“Have you ever lived with someone who has it?” you exclaimed and he shook his head. It was easier to look directly at you when you were the one who looked away “There are experimental treatments that reduce symptoms, but none are totally effective, appearing early in life in only about 5% to 6% of people. Although there is no defined cause, the genetic factor can affect you if you had a direct relative who suffered from early Alzheimer's” you exclaimed. He wanted to ask you why you were doing this exchange of information, but he thought it impolite to do so, so he just kept quiet "You said earlier that people tell you their secrets because you have no one to tell them to, but I'm sure it's not because that. We trust you because you are kind, understanding, but above all a good friend who we know will never judge us" you took a moment to take a deep breath again, feeling the nervousness running from the tip of your feet to your head and also to gather something of courage "I personally tell you because I am very afraid of starting to forget them"

It all clicked in Spencer's mind in a split second and he wished he was misreading things, searching your gaze so he could identify something that indicated you didn't mean what he was assuming.

"You…?” he started to say, but the question died on the tip of his tongue.

“It was my father. He was barely 35 years old when it all started, it was with the time he forgot to come to his birthday party. I remember it perfectly, he hadn't been feeling well for weeks due to the stress of work and the company decided to run all kinds of tests on him, without finding anything to worry about, so we just ignored it. But the symptoms recurred: he was disoriented, discouraged, sometimes he became aggressive with the family and forgot plans or things that we had told him. When he almost crushed one of his colleagues with a machine that he forgot that he was working, the company decided to give him a permanent break and we began to worry.

»By 36 it was already a fact that it was the beginnings of dementia. The doctors were surprised by the diagnosis because it is not very common to find the disease in patients of his age and for more explanations that we tried to find, we didn’t find any other. They prescribed a treatment that only kept him calm and it got to a point where it felt inhuman to drug him daily, and about two years after he got the diagnosis my mom decided it was better to put him in a mental hospital.

I was only fifteen years old at the time, but I already understood everything perfectly. I went to see him every day, after school, talked to him, read my homework to him, and we watched movies together, which to a certain extent made his illness feel tolerable. The worst thing at that point was that he asked me to watch the same movie as the day before or that he asked me if I was nervous about the exam I had done a week ago" you looked at the man just to make sure he was following the story, which that you verified with the way he was looking at you; fully attentive.

“Anyway, the years went by and it got more and more complicated. Sometimes a nurse had to remind her of my name and at some point my mother just gave up, probably when my father completely disowned her and started yelling all over the hospital that a woman was harassing him in her room. I continued to visit him, but when I grew up and entered the FBI academy my hours were cut down considerably, so in recent years I only went to see him once a week.

»At 42 my father no longer knew that I was his daughter, he thought that I was a nurse doing social service by keeping him company. He talked to me all the time about his family and sadly told me that neither his wife nor his daughter had been to see him for a long time, but I assured him that they had both asked me to tell him that they loved him very much and that they would go soon” silent for a moment, careful not to burst into tears, and prepared to finish the story “He died during my first year as a BAU agent. I saw his decline over the years and even at the end I think he left thinking that his family had abandoned him. I don't talk to my mother anymore, because I think she feels very guilty about me for having left me all the burden of taking care of my father. But every day I feel at peace with myself because despite how painful it was to see him, I never left him.

»Many times I cried before entering the hospital and when leaving, thinking that I had to pretend to be able to spend a moment with the person I loved the most and who was now only a ghost of what my father once was. And it was terrible to look at it and think that this was my future, even to this day. They say that reading is a good exercise to reduce risk and that's why I always carry a book wherever I go, that's why I always want to do new things and that's why I strive every day to solve our cases because I don't know when the last. I have gone to specialists who have told me that there is nothing to worry about and that, if I have it, Alzheimer's could last until I am an old woman, but even so I am afraid every day.

If I really get sick and manage to get old, the most likely thing is that I will end up in a sanatorium, but right now what is worth it are the things I do every day. I'm scared, yes, but it's worth fighting for if I can help people in this job and especially if I can live with people like you.

I know you said that I wouldn't understand, but the truth is that of all the people in this building I can assure you that I am the one who can do it best. I know that you can't bear to see her because you are afraid of ending up with her like her and that at the same time you are so worried that you take the time to write everything about your life to her. I'm probably boring you with all this stuff that you never asked me to tell you, but I just wanted to tell you how important it is that you be with your mom. And more than doing it for her, do it for you.

I would only give you one piece of advice, which you can decide to take or not: don't waste your time, Spencer. Your mother loves you very much, go and talk to her, accompany her, listen to everything she has to tell you and forgive her faults if there are any. Because you don't know about her when it may be the last time you see her, either for your health or for hers”

There was total silence. You hadn't noticed until that moment that your cheeks were already wet from crying and you still didn't dare to look at his face. No person knew that part of you, because after your father got worse you had decided not to talk about it with anyone, so you could say that you were practically giving your heart to that man bruised by the mission a few hours ago. Suddenly you thought that perhaps you had talked for too long or that for him it had no relevance and he had only stayed to listen to you because he was not rude enough to leave you talking to yourself. But while your head was drawing the wrong conclusions, something you never expected happened: Spencer extended his hands to you and wrapped you in a hug.

It only took a bit of effort to make their bodies fit perfectly and he clenched the fabric of your knitted sweater in his fists, tucking his head into the crook of your neck to allow you to lean yours against his golden hair. It was as if all the time you had been destined for that particular moment, fused in that embrace that communicated everything that words could no longer express.

He wasn't the person who loved physical contact the most, all of you had noticed that, so hugging him was totally new to you. The feeling of peace that this brought you had no comparison point and the softness of his body covered you completely.

“I had no idea,” he murmured, the sound of his voice muffled by your skin. And Spencer was being completely honest, because he didn't even imagine that you could fully understand him after having lived through such a tragic story. He had understood many things thanks to your story and he was eternally grateful that he had felt the confidence to tell him something like this, so he also thought that maybe it was his turn to be honest with you "What my mom said is true, I always talk to her about you. I tell her that you are the sweetest companion I have ever had, that you always pay attention to me, and that you make sure that I feel comfortable wherever we go. I tell her that you are strong, that I want to be half as brave as you, and I also tell her that I have never felt affection and gratitude for someone as I feel for you, because you have made these two years different from any other time in my life” his words, whispered so close to you and drenched in so much love, only intensified your tears "And as long as my conscience remains intact, I assure you that if I need to remind you of all the secrets you have told me, I will do it"

That, more than a proposal, was a declaration of pure love that promised to reach many years into the future.

"Maybe we'll even end up in the same sanitarium, you and me, huh?" you exclaimed, with a slightly joking tone "And so I will have the opportunity to know your wonders again every day"

You felt on your neck that you managed to get a smile out of him and that made you smile too. That's when he pulled away so he could look at you.

“I think that… I will go with my mother back to Nevada. I guess we both deserve it, don't you think?" he told you and you nodded with a small smile. He didn't want to leave your side, but you got up first and held out your hand to help him do the same.

“She still has enough lucidity to tell me what your favorite food is. Maybe you should eat with her on the plane” you suggested. You didn't want to rob him of any more time he could spend with his mother, so you just wished him luck and started walking in another direction.

"Y/N, before you go" he called out to you. You were already a fair distance away, but it was enough for you to still speak in a small voice. "You know you're not alone, right?"

You smiled as he looked at you with those eyes that only showed sincerity, and you wished you could encapsulate that moment for eternity.

"I know" you replied calmly "And I trust that now you know it too"

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía

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theemporium · 11 months

Text

[7k] single dad!steve, wednesday!reader and a meddling kid that may be hawkins' best wingwoman.

Steve Harrington was barely eighteen years old when he was handed an eight month old baby and told he was a father.

It had been a few weeks out of his high school graduation. He was in his house, a pot of instant noodles with a fork sticking out of it abandoned on the coffee table as he watched whatever mediocre game show that was playing on the television. The doorbell rang—an odd occurrence at eleven in the evening—but he got up and answered it regardless.

Except, there was nobody he knew on the other side of the door—just a basket with a baby inside and an envelope taped to the edge with his name sprawled on it.

In a panic, Steve had called Hopper. Later on, he would feel bad for waking the man up and dragging him out of bed at such an odd hour, but he was young, confused and stressed out of his mind that somebody had left a child on his doorstep.

With Hopper there and being the voice of reason, he finally got the guts to open the envelope that explained everything. It was from a one night stand he had at some houseparty last year, one that clearly resulted more than he bargained for. She was from out of town, a friend of a friend’s cousin who heard about the party, and she was already back home when she took the test. She thought she could do it. She thought she could raise a child on her own. But eight months in after a difficult pregnancy, she couldn’t take it anymore. She just couldn’t do it anymore.

Despite the twist in his gut and the guilt he felt that she had to do this all alone, there was not one apology in her letter. No apology for dumping this on him or not contacting him when she found out. No explanation as to why she kept it a secret. Just a simple note at the end that said the baby’s name and that was all.

Aurora Harrington.

He was surprised she had even given the child his surname in the first place.

That night was full of breakdowns, tears and an emergency call to Joyce Byers who made her way over as soon as she could to help the young teen wrap his head around the fact that he was a father. He had a child. He had his family.

Steve had always imagined starting his own family, having kids with the love of his life after they moved into their dream home with a family dog who the kids would grow up with. Never once in his vision did he expect he would be eighteen, unprepared and alone.

But he wasn’t really alone.

He had Hopper and Joyce. He had Robin and the gang of kids who seemed less stressful to deal with now that he had an actual baby who was reliant on him. He had support systems who backed him up during the following months as he discovered fatherhood.

And most importantly, he had his daughter.

Despite his conflicting emotions from that night, Steve would never change it for the world. Maybe he would have wished he met his daughter earlier, that he knew she existed earlier—but beyond that, he couldn’t find a part of him that was upset at the fact she had entered his life.

“Rory! What did we say about running?”

“Sorry, Daddy!”

Steve felt a warmth settle in his chest as he watched his daughter stop, quickly turning on the spot and rushing back to him (even though he said no running) and waiting patiently as he closed and locked the car. He grinned down at the young girl—now three, almost four and energetic as ever—as she extended her hand out for him to take.

“Please?” she asked in the sweetest voice ever and Steve was unable to resist the big, brown eyes staring up at him.

He extended his hand to her, watching as she wrapped her palm around two of his fingers before all but dragging him towards the Hawkins Public Library, a tradition that began long before she could walk. He obediently followed her, his other hand holding the books they had taken out last time as they made their way up the steps and towards the reception.

Orla—a sweet old woman who had been working in the library long before Steve himself was born—gave the father-daughter duo a smile as they entered the building, something oddly maternal about the simple gesture.

“If it isn’t my favourite members,” she greeted in a soft, quiet voice as they approached the desk. In a swift movement, Steve placed the books on the desk before lifting Rory up so she could see the older woman. “Did little miss sunshine enjoy the books this week?”

“Bleh,” the young girl stated, her nose scrunched in disgust.

Steve only laughed, shaking his head at his daughter before turning to Orla. “She said it didn’t make sense.”

“It’s a fairytale,” Orla said in a cooing voice for the young child. “It’s magical, it doesn’t need to make sense.”

“I wanted a dragon,” Rory said with a frown. “No dragons. Only horses. Boring.”

“Well, maybe you’ll find something better this week,” Orla sighed. The woman tried every week to throw a new princess tale or magical story at the girl, and every week she was unamused.

“Can I go look, Daddy?” Rory asked, her attention turning to her father as she stared up at him hopefully.

“Go on, sunshine, I’ll be there in a second,” he murmured and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head, the messy braids he had done that morning already coming undone. He placed her down, only to watch her run off not even seconds later. “No running, Rory!”

“No yelling in the library!” Orla scolded playfully, watching as Steve only blushed in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile.

However, young Rory Harrington didn’t listen to her father’s instructions as she ran towards the children’s section of the library where the shelves were shorter and the colours were brighter. Her wide eyes took in the cartoon characters painted on the walls and the colourful bunting pinned across the ceiling. She eagerly made her way towards the bright plastic chairs and massive beanbags, only to stop short when she noticed somebody was already there.

“Who are you?”

You froze for a moment as the young girl’s voice sounded through the quiet section. You turned to look at her, still kneeling on the floor as you worked through the books you had to reshelf, and your eyes narrowed at the accusation.

“Who are you?” You restored, watching as the young girl with sandy brown hair and big brown eyes tilted her head. And then she smiled wider than you had ever seen any child smile before.

“Rory!” she said her name excitedly. “My name is Rory!”

“Right,” you said with a single nod of your head before you turned back to the shelves.

“Aren’t you gonna say your name?” She asked curiously and you glanced back over your shoulder at her.

“No,” you stated bluntly but the young girl didn’t seem all that bothered by the tone.

“Why are you wearing all black?” She questioned once again.

You let out a sigh. “Because I want to.”

“Oh,” she hummed and nodded. “My Uncle Eddie does that.”

“Good for him, kid,” you murmured before you turned back to the shelves, hoping that if you just let the child rattle on, you could finish your work in this section and run off before the kid’s parents showed up asking the same amount of questions she was.

“He says angels wear black,” she told you, her voice still eager and animated as she spoke. “Daddy says he’s lying but Uncle Eddie never lies!”

You let out a thoughtless hum.

“Are you an angel?”

You paused, blinking as the question processed before you turned to look at her. “Am I an angel?”

Rory nodded. “Yeah, a dark angel. Cause you wear black.”

“A dark angel,” you repeated, wondering where this kid even came from.

“Or a witch!” She said with a gasp, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “Are you a witch?”

“Do you not have somewhere to be or…?” You trailed off, glancing past her as if you expected to see her parents wander over at any moment and apologise for their daughter’s behaviour.

“Nope! Daddy says I can pick three books this week!” Rory grinned widely, like that accomplishment should have meant something to you the way it meant to her.

“Maybe you should go find your daddy then,” you said to her. But she only giggled and shrugged her shoulders before she moved closer to you.

“You have black on your eyes,” she murmured in a curious voice only children have.

“It’s called makeup,” you deadpanned.

“I want some!”

“Ask your daddy.”

Almost as though you summoned him yourself, Steve came rounding the corner with his brows furrowed together, wondering what was taking his daughter so long to pick up a few books for the week. Just like his daughter had done, he quickly fell short when he noticed you in the children’s section.

“Oh. Hi.”

You raised your brows, unamused. But your reaction was the last thing on his mind when Rory ran over to him, arms stretched out for him to catch her and lift her, which he did.

“Daddy! I made a friend!” Rory smiled brightly.

“I see,” Steve murmured before clearing his throat. He looked at you with a more polite smile, one that matched his daughter’s perfectly. “I’m Steve.”

However, you simply nodded and turned your head back towards the shelves you were stacking. Steve frowned a little but didn’t question it—not that he got much of a chance—before Rory was wiggling to be put down again. She raced around the section, grabbing the books she had noticed last week before handing them to Steve with an eager smile, ready to check them out.

Rory gripped her father’s fingers, pausing before they walked away as she turned back to you. “Bye, Angel! See you next week!”

Steve blinked, guessing you had told Rory your name and gave you an awkward wave. “Bye, Angel.”

And just like that, the two Harringtons left, leaving you somewhat intrigued by the small family and the odd choice of nickname.

…

The second time Steve saw you was the next week when he returned with Rory, old books in hand and eager to choose new ones.

She seemed more excitable than usual and it was only confirmed when they entered the library, this time finding you in the reception seat instead of Orla. Steve barely had a chance to say a word before Rory raced over, turning to look at her father expectantly as she waited to be lifted.

“Angel! Angel!”

You lifted your head, catching a glimpse of the small child before you noticed Steve approaching the desk with a kind smile. You watched as he placed a small pile of books down before lifting his daughter, the signature Harrington smile on their faces.

“No yelling in the library,” you said as a way of greeting, but neither of them seemed bothered by it.

“Sorry!” Rory said, polite as ever even if her volume didn’t change.

“Inside voices, sweetheart,” Steve chastised his daughter in a soft voice and the little girl nodded.

You watched the interaction with a hint of curiosity as he kissed the top of the girl’s head before setting her down, letting her run off to the children’s section. He then reached into his back pocket, taking out his wallet and sliding out the small, plastic library card that he slid over the desk towards you.

“Just giving these back,” he said as he somewhat awkwardly pushed the pile of books in your direction.

“I assumed,” you said as you took the pile of books, your fingers tapping away on the computer as you began to enter his details into the system.

“So, are you new here?” He asked in an attempt to fill the awkward silence.

“To the town or the library?” You questioned, your eyes remaining on the screen.

Steve’s brows furrowed together. “Both?”

“Yes,” you stated simply and he found himself at a loss.

“Angel is a cool name,” he tried again, watching the way you worked so mechanically, almost like you were a machine yourself.

“A shame it’s not my name,” you replied.

Steve blinked. “It’s not?”

“Your daughter seems to think otherwise,” you continued. “I guess that happens when young humans are incapable of reading name tags.”

Almost instantly his eyes shot down to the name tag pinned to your black denim pinifer, taking a few seconds to read the name scribbled on the small tag before he mouthed your name, like he was testing it before he said it aloud.

“I think Angel still fits,” he replied lamely when he realised he had fallen silent, and that you had finished checking the books back in as you slid his library card across the desk.

“Do you have any books to check out?” You asked him in a somewhat monotonous voice.

“Do you always avoid compliments?” He retorted, the question slipping past his lips before he could even stop himself. But the short answers bothered him in a way he couldn’t quite understand himself.

“I didn’t realise my job description included maintaining mediocre small talk and aimless comments,” you stated and he knew you were right. He knew very well. But that didn’t stop the bitter taste left in his mouth as he was left grasping for a reply.

Thankfully, Rory approached the desk moments later with two books in her hands and Steve’s thoughts were torn away from you.

…

They saw you every week without fail at the library. However, it was over a month after that first interaction that Steve bumped into you outside of your workplace.

It had been a long day at work—an unexpected double shift when Kevin never showed up and supposedly called in sick—which left Eddie swooping in to take Rory for a few hours before Steve picked her up from the trailer less than thirty minutes ago.

It was coming up to eight o’clock and he knew Rory hadn’t eaten yet. He also knew it was quickly approaching her bedtime and he didn’t have a single clue what was left in the fridge back in the house, which meant an impromptu last minute grocery trip so he could grab the microwavable macaroni and cheese Rory liked.

He was truly a candidate for father of the year.

“You sure you don’t wanna sit up here?” Steve asked the young girl as he pushed the trolley through the automatic doors at the entrance. “You love sitting up here.”

“I’m a big girl, daddy,” Rory huffed out, but she still gripped the edge of his jacket like he requested. “I can walk.”

“If you get tired, just tell me, sunshine,” he said to her, knowing full well his daughter was as stubborn as they got.

Steve was fighting to keep his eyes open and his body moving as they wandered through the aisles of the grocery store, halfheartedly throwing things into the trolley that he vaguely remembered writing on the grocery list that was taped on the fridge. He was too stubborn himself to do two trips this week. If he forgot something, it would just have to wait until the next week.

“Do you want the strawberry yoghurts or the kiwi ones?” Steve asked, his tired brain racking on which one his daughter preferred this week. “Rory?”

Steve blinked as he glanced down to where she was moments ago, only to see the spot next to him empty. It was like a shot of adrenaline was coursing through him as he glanced up and down the aisle, seeing no sign of the young girl.

“Rory!” Steve called out, his voice a little more frantic as he abandoned the trolley and the yoghurts and began racing through the aisles they just left. The grocery store was by no means big, but in that moment it felt fucking massive.

“Rory, where—”

His sneakers screeched against the tile floor as he paused by the small bakery near the back of his store. There Rory was, standing there without a concern in the world, holding onto the edge of your dress like she did with him.

“Daddy! Look!” Rory cheered gleefully, unaware of the emotional distress her father had just been through. “Angel!”

“I…uh, I see that,” Steve’s chest was heaving as he walked towards you both, finally tearing his eyes away from his daughter when he was sure she was okay before looking at you.

“You lost your small human,” you told him.

And maybe it was the adrenaline rush or the stress or the fact Steve was just downright fucking terrified up until a few moments ago, but he laughed. He laughed loudly.

“Yeah,” he breathed out between chuckles. “I did.”

There was a pause.

“Thank you for looking after her,” he added quickly, his cheeks flushing a light pink.

Your eyes dropped down to the young girl who was still gripping your dress. “I didn’t really mean to,” you replied honestly. “She just seemed to…latch on.”

“She used to be a runner,” Steve admitted sheepishly.

“Admirable,” you commented with a nod.

Steve cleared his throat a little, shifting his gaze back to his daughter as he held out his hand. “C’mon, sunshine, we should leave Angel to do her shopping.”

But Rory just pouted. “I wanna stay with her.”

“My cat doesn’t like kids,” you stated bluntly as you tried to take a step away from the young girl, but her grip held tight.

“Kitty?” Rory’s eyes lit up.

“Rory, honey,” Steve sighed and walked closer, kneeling down to gently pull her hands off your dress. “We gotta go.”

Her bottom lip jutted out. “Daddy—”

“M’sorry, sunshine, but we gotta head home,” he murmured in a softer voice, all too well aware of the way your eyes were watching the interaction closely. “It’s your bedtime soon.”

“Story?” She asked hopefully.

“Your favourite one,” he promised and she quickly threw herself into his arms, a small oomph leaving his lips upon impact. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up effortlessly before he gave you a smile. “Thank you, once again. I know you said you did nothing but—”

“Message received, Steve,” you nodded.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, already starting to take a few steps back to head back to whichever aisle he abandoned his trolley in. “Have a good night, Angel.”

…

It was two weeks before Halloween when Steve came into the library alone, looking a little more dishevelled than you had ever seen him before.

It wasn’t unusual for Steve to be a bit of a mess. He was twenty-odd years old and a single dad, it wasn’t like he had his life together at all times. Hell, not even half of the time.

Sometimes it was just stained shirts when he didn’t have time to do laundry or mismatched shoes he didn’t pay attention to when he was running out of the house.

But this was something different.

His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was far messier than usual. There were dark circles under his eyes that made it look like he hadn’t had proper rest in days, and there was a weariness in his eyes that only a young, lost parent could ever really have.

“You look shit,” you said as he shuffled towards the reception desk.

Steve just gave you a sad smile. “Rory’s caught something from daycare, hasn’t stopped coughing or crying in days.”

He was somewhat surprised by the way your brows furrowed in concern.

“She’s sick?”

Steve nodded. “All week. But she demanded new books so a friend is watching over her while I grab some.” He paused for a moment, his eyes widening in realisation. “Shit, I’m sorry, I forgot the other books back home and—“

“Steve,” you said his name, a little softer than your usual tone. “It’s fine. You can bring them next week, or whenever she’s better. I’ll let you off this time.”

His lips twitched a little. “Going soft on me, Angel?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered but he could’ve sworn you smiled a little before your face returned to its usual expression of general disinterest. “Go and pick your books, Steve.”

Steve only grinned before he disappeared off to the kids’ section of the library, flicking through the books as he racked his brain on which ones they had already read and which ones were new.

You were still at the desk when he returned with a pile of seven books, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I couldn’t decide,” he murmured as he placed the pile down. “Plus, she’s been wanting more stories.”

You glanced down at the pile, your eyes flickering across the spines as you read the titles before you frowned. “No.”

Steve’s face fell. “No?”

“She won’t like these,” you told him.

His confusion only grew. “She won’t?” He repeated before shaking his head. How could you seriously know his daughter better than him?

You nodded your head towards the colourful board. “She’s given every princess book only two pumpkins,” you said as you pointed towards the themed reading chart the library had set up for the local kids. “She doesn’t like them.”

“She doesn’t?” He asked, sounding a little helpless.

“She prefers the witch books,” you said and pointed towards the chart where Rory had given each of the books at least three pumpkins or more.

“Oh.”

You watched the way the crease between his brows deepened, his shoulders tense and the rest of him even tenser. He looked like he didn’t have a single clue what to do and he was starting to beat himself up for it.

“I’ll give you a few,” you said eventually as you turned around, heading towards the small cart of books you had yet to reshelf. “I’ve been meaning to give them to Rory anyways.”

“You have?” Steve asked, the surprise in his voice not hidden. Or at least, it wasn’t hidden well.

“She has similar taste to me when I was her age,” you said as you placed a pile of around five books towards him. “That’s a good sign.”

“I’m sure it is, Angel,” he murmured as he took the books, giving you a warm smile. “You’re quite the lady.”

“Don’t you forget it, Steve,” you teased lightly, and he swore he saw another twitch of your lips.

His eyes softened. “Thank you.”

You simply nodded. “I’ll see you when she’s better, Steve.”

And that was the closest thing to a proper goodbye he had ever received from you.

…

When Rory was better, she came running into the library with a grin spread across her face and a themed Halloween headband pushing back her sandy brown hair.

“Angel!”

Steve opened his mouth, the words on the tip of his tongue. But you got there first.

“Inside voices, Rory.”

Rory blinked before flashing you a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“You look better,” you noted, your eyes taking in the small child. Except for the paleness that remained even after one was sick, she looked mostly normal. And just as eager for the upcoming holiday than she was the last time you saw her.

“I am better, Angel!” Rory grinned up at you, barely able to stand still as she did. “Halloween is this week!”

“Is it?” You mused. “I had no idea.”

“It is! It is!” Rory clapped her hands together before turning to her father. “Tell her, Daddy!”

Your attention turned to Steve for the first time since he entered, only to find the boy already staring at you with an unreadable expression painted across his face. You waited for him to say something but he never did.

“Daddy!” Rory repeated, tugging on the edge of his jacket and he finally seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in.

“Huh?” Steve looked down at his daughter before he looked at you, his cheeks flushed a light pink. “Oh, yeah, Halloween!”

“Tell Angel how long, Daddy!” Rory insisted.

“Oh,” Steve blinked before clearing his throat. “Uh, five—”

“Five days!” The young girl finished for him.

Your lips twitched. “Well, now I know.”

Steve only smiled sheepishly in response.

Everything followed the same routine for their usual visits to the library. Steve placed the previous books on the counter, you signed them back in as Rory ran off to the children’s section to find some more to take out. Usually, Steve would stand by the desk and make aimless small talk with you that you always insisted was unnecessary, but always entertained regardless. However, when the youngest Harrington disappeared between the shelves, so too did the older one.

You tried not to let your curiosity peek.

Steve returned to the desk a few moments before Rory, holding his own pile of books that he placed on the desk, along with the three new stories his daughter wanted to take out. He watched the way your eyes scanned over the spines before your gaze met his, one eyebrow raised in question.

“New hobby?” You mused, and something in his chest warmed at the fact you essentially cracked a joke with him.

“No, uh,” he let out a nervous laugh, scratching the nape of his neck as he stared down at the pile of books with an odd expression—almost like they scared him. You think they genuinely did. “They are for me.” Pause. “To learn.” Another pause. “Rory wants to join the Hawkins Halloween Bake Sale and I can’t bake for shit.”

“Bad word, Daddy!” The young girl chirped as she skipped towards the desk, more books in hand that she wordlessly handed to her father.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Steve apologised with a sheepish expression.

“You can’t bake?” You questioned.

“Daddy says it’s very hard,” Rory answered instead, nodding solemnly like she agreed with her father.

“It’s not,” you said with a snort, and the sound warmed something in Steve’s chest.

“It is,” he defended, shaking his head. “It’s witchcraft!”

“It’s baking, Steve,” you said in that almost-teasing voice that made his lips twitch upwards. “Not rocket science.”

“It may as well be,” the boy grumbled under his breath.

“Can you help us, Angel?” Rory blurted out of nowhere, looking up at you with her big doe eyes that made it virtually impossible for anyone to say no to the young girl.

Steve’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he turned to you, already shaking his head before he could even utter the words out. “Don’t listen to her, we can cope on our own—”

“Please?” Rory continued, jutting her bottom lip out until you felt something in your chest tighten at the sight.

“When is the bake sale?” You asked, your eyes narrowing in question.

Steve said your name, uttered it out in a choked gasp but Rory continued to answer your questions.

“Halloween!” She cheered gleefully.

“I can help you bake on Saturday,” you said with an earnest nod. “I have the day off.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve said in a softer voice, ignoring the happy cheers of his daughter beside him. “We don’t wanna bother you or—”

“You’re not bothering me,” you stated bluntly. “I want to help. I wouldn’t offer otherwise.”

“Oh,” he murmured before nodding. “You’re sure?”

“Certain.”

Steve tried to bite back his smile. “Yeah, we’ll see you on Saturday then.”

…

The house was in shambles before you even arrived.

Despite no actual baking having occurred, the Harrington household was chaotic since the family had woken earlier that morning. It took a solid five minutes after ringing the doorbell before Steve opened it, swinging the oak door open as his frazzled state gave you a confused smile.

“You’re early,” he replied breathlessly.

You raised your brows. “I’m actually on time.”

His eyes widened as he cursed under his breath. “You are?” His eyes glanced down at his watch. “Shit, you are.”

“Is this a bad time?” Your eyes glanced over his lack of t-shirt and sweatpants laying low on his hips. “You seem…unprepared.”

“Yes…no!” Steve quickly shook his head, running a hand through his head as he pushed his hair away from his face. “No, it’s just…Rory is just really excited to bake.”

Excited was an understatement. Rory was practically bouncing off the walls, grabbing random ingredients from the cupboards and placing them around the house. Steve had spent most of the morning running after her, trying to put things back in the right place whilst also trying to keep his daughter in one place for longer than thirty seconds.

It was endearing, in a way. It was endearing to watch the way the father-daughter duo interacted, and the way they seemed to move like a practised routine. You watched them with a look of interest as Steve tied the small apron around Rory’s waist and placed the costume chef hat on her head before he even put a shirt on himself.

To be fair, he still hadn’t put a shirt on.

“So,” Steve clapped his hands and gave you a smile that matched his daughter’s excited one. “Where do we start?”

And when Steve Harrington told you he was hopeless at baking, you genuinely thought he was exaggerating.

He was very much not exaggerating in the slightest.

“So, I add the salt now?”

“I—” You paused. “You think salt goes into cupcakes?”

He blinked. “They don’t?”

Rory snickered.

Your lips twitched upwards as you budged him to the side with your hip. “Let me do the baking, Steve,” you said as you nodded towards the bowls on the other side of the counter. “Just mix the colours into the icing.” You paused. “And wear gloves unless you want stained hands.”

He grinned. “Aye aye, captain.”

It didn’t take long to mix the icing together. Rory had helped him, and it had been a little messier than intended but the young girl was giggling and smiling the whole time so neither of you had much issue with the matter. Rory settled on the counter, legs swinging off the edge as she watched you work, piping up with random questions here and there.

And never once did you get annoyed with the young girl, staying as patient as ever.

Steve watched with a fond smile on his face, head in his hand as he watched the interactions between you and his daughter. He allowed his chest to warm as his daughter smiled wider than he had ever seen. He allowed his stomach to flutter as you smiled back at her—not a twitch of the lips or the hint of a smile, but a full wide-lipped smile.

Eventually, Rory decided she wanted to run off to play with her dolls while the cupcakes baked and cooled before you could decorate them. You wordlessly began moving around the kitchen cleaning, and Steve didn’t say anything as he began helping.

“Thank you, by the way,” Steve suddenly spoke up, sneaking a glance at you.

Your brows furrowed slightly. “For the cupcakes? They aren’t made yet, they could still be—”

“No, not for that,” he shook his head, his hand pausing his movements of swiping the counter as he turned to face you. “For making Rory smile.”

“She’s a happy kid,” you retorted. “It’s not that difficult to make her happy.”

“Yeah but,” Steve paused before he shrugged his shoulders. “Just…sometimes I think I can’t give her stuff I wanna, you know? Like today, moments like those. She’s been robbed of them and I just wanted to say thank you for giving them to her.”

Your face softened, and it was almost scary to see if it didn’t make his heart speed up. “You’re a good father, Steve.”

He let out a nervous laugh, his gaze dropping to the tile floor of the kitchen. “It doesn’t always feel like it.”

You stepped closer and then one more until there was little distance between you. Steve was almost caught off-guard when you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing softly.

“You’re the best father you can be for Rory,” you murmured, your voice just above a whisper but it was loud and clear for him. “And that is more than enough.”

Steve swallowed harshly, trying to rid himself of the lump in the back of his throat. He blinked a few times as he tried to rid himself of the tears welling in his lash line before his gaze dropped to your lips. And he should have looked away. He knew he should have. But you were so close and all he would have had to do was tug you a little closer with your joined hands, to dip his head down for his lips to brush over yours and—

“CAN WE DECORATE THE CUPCAKES NOW?”

You both jumped away from each other as Rory barreled through the door, clutching a pink teddy bear in her arms as she looked up at you and Steve expectantly.

You cleared your throat, smiling a little as you nodded. “How about you check with me?”

Rory grinned. “Okay!”

But despite himself, Steve found himself staring at your lips far more than he cared to admit for the rest of the day.

…

“Happy Halloween!”

Steve knew you were working the morning shift at the library on the morning of Halloween. He hadn’t asked you, far too shy to face you properly when every time he looked at your face he imagined kissing you senseless. He chose to ask Orla instead, who gave him a smug smirk and a knowing look when he asked the question.

He tried to tell himself that he was only asking because he knew Rory would want to show you her Halloween costume. He told himself he was doing a kind act for his daughter’s happiness, that he just wanted to see her smile. But in all honesty—and maybe it made him a bad father—a selfish part of Steve just wanted an excuse to see you when he had no real reason to.

“Happy Halloween, Rory—” However, you cut yourself short on her name when you peered over the desk to look at the younger girl.

“Guess who I am?” Rory exclaimed excitedly, practically bouncing on her feet as she looked at you with eager eyes.

Your eyes glanced over the little black denim pinafore dress she was wearing, taking in the black tights and black boots and black shirt underneath. You took in the costume rings she wore and what looked like messily applied black face paint on her lips. You took in the bright pink puffer jacket she was wearing over the costume, no double to battle the cold weather. You looked at her with such a fond expression, it always made Steve want to explode.

“Uh, a witch,” you guessed half-heartedly just to see the young girl squeal in response.

“No, silly!” Rory laughed and shook her head. “I’m you! I’m Angel!”

Steve watched the way you tried to fight the grin growing on your face. “Really? Woah, Rory, your costume is amazing.”

“Daddy helped me,” Rory answered proudly. “He said I look scary!”

You raised your brows as you finally turned to glance at Steve who was watching the interaction with an unreadable expression. “Do you think I’m scary, Steve?”

Steve shook his head. “That feels like a trick question.”

“It is.”

“Then I choose to not answer.”

You gave him a small smile before you turned back to the younger girl. “Shouldn’t you be heading to the carnival?”

“Daddy says you would want to see my costume,” Rory told you.

Steve blanched. “Woah, hold on a second—”

“And he says he wants you to come with us to the carnival!” Rory continued before she looked up at you, eyes wide and her bottom lip jutted out.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Steve let out a nervous laugh. “She’s a little confused—”

“I want you there too!” Rory added, the puppy dog eyes intensifying as you stared down at the same baby browns she shared with her father. “Please, Angel? I wanna show everyone who made the cupcakes!”

You opened your mouth to reply but Steve cut you off, a pink tint to his cheeks as he spoke. “Orla mentioned you finished at one,” he said with a knowing look. “We don’t mind waiting ten minutes while you clock out.”

“Someone would think you had planned this, Steve,” you said in that almost-teasing voice of yours.

He tried to ignore his pounding heart. “Maybe I did.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “I’ll meet you both outside while I grab my stuff.”

Steve tried not to let the relief show on his face, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t as subtle as he played it off in his head considering the small snort you let out before you turned back to your work.

He had tried to fight the mix of nerves and giddiness as he watched you walked down the library steps, offering to take the tray of cupcakes from his hold. But Steve just shook your head, telling you that you could be in charge of holding Rory’s hand instead before the three of you headed towards the town centre where the carnival was set.

It felt domestic and familiar, something that Steve was not expecting but it didn’t really surprise him either. Even if he hadn’t realised, you had somehow wiggled your way into the unit he created with Rory since the day he found her on his doorstep. And maybe it should have scared him or threatened him in some way, shape or form. Maybe it should have stressed him that his perfect, little dynamic was changing.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t.

Walking into the Hawkins’ Halloween Carnival with you holding his daughter’s hand and him holding the cupcakes the three of you made together felt as easy and simple as breathing air. It felt natural for him to take Rory’s hand after dropping the cupcakes off at the bake sale table, swinging her back and forth as you navigated through the stalls. It felt natural for the distance between you two to disappear after Rory ran off to play with some kids from kindergarten.

“I’m surprised the other kids aren’t scared of her,” Steve joked in a lighthearted voice, lightly nudging your shoulder with his own.

You scoffed. “She is far too chirpy to pull off the whole look.”

“My girl is a lil’ ray of sunshine,” he commented, almost proudly like he was seconds away from puffing his chest over the remark.

“It suits her,” you hummed as you nodded in agreement. “She matches her father well.”

Steve smirked a little as he snuck a glance at you. “You calling me a ray of sunshine, Angel?”

“I do have to give you a nickname in retaliation for the horrendous one you’ve given me,” you retorted, turning your head to look up at him.

“Rory came up with that,” he defended before shrugging. “Plus, it suits you.”

“I don’t think many people would call me an angel,” you remarked in a blunt tone, because that much was true. The dark clothes and aesthetic tended to intimidate people, but the candid personality seemed to completely put them off.

“They don’t know you like I do,” Steve countered back, his voice a little lower when he spoke. A little rougher too.

“And do you know me, Steve?”

His eyes darkened. “Yeah, I think I know you pretty damn well, Angel.”

A few beats of silence passed between the two of you. And if either one of you were honest, it wasn’t a setting either of you particularly thrived in. A carnival in the centre of town where almost every Hawkins resident was present at. With kids screaming and families laughing and the sweet scent of cinnamon thick in the air around you. With so many eyes around and yet none focused on you, not that either of you would care to notice. Not when you and Steve were too locked in your own world.

It was you who made the first move.

It was you who reached out to grip the lapels of his jacket in your gloved hands, to tug him closer and destroy the remaining distance between you, to pull him down so you can press your lips against yours.

But it was Steve who kept it going. It was Steve who wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest. It was Steve who let one hand tangle itself in your hair, keeping a hold on the back of your head as he kissed you like it was his last moments on earth. It was Steve who kissed you like the world was ending and these last few seconds in the middle of Hawkins’ Halloween Carnival would be the last few moments alive.

It was you who had the balls to act first, but it was Steve who made it feel like the world was exploding in a million different colours around you.

“DADDY IS KISSING ANGEL! DADDY IS KISSING ANGEL!”

You could feel the curve of his smile against your lips before he pulled away, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink colour as he turned to look at Rory who was giggling and snickering at the pair of you. He heard a soft snort and turned back down to look at you, to memorise the amused smile plastered on your face as he kept his arms wrapped around your body.

“What?” He questioned.

You shook your head, tilting your head up to look at him. “You still think you know me, Steve?”

His smile widened. “I think I’d like to get to know you a little more.”

You could only let out a snort of laughter in response, and Steve was determined to hear it more often in his life, if it was the last thing he would do.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

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toboldlygohome · 7 months

Text

"Please..."

Mark Watney X Reader

Summary: Nothing could have prepared you for the pain of losing your boyfriend on Sol 6. But you were even less prepared to find out that he didn't die. You left him there. Alone.

Character(s): Mark Watney, Beth Johanssen, Chris Beck, Melissa Lewis, Alex Vogel, Rick Martinez.

Warning(s): Descriptions of grief, Mentions of death, Cursing (lots of it), Mildly sexual themes (nothing explicit), Mentions of malnourishment.

A/N: I absolutely adore The Martian, but I've noticed a criminally low amount of fan content for it, so I decided to make some! I've decided to follow more closely to the book plot rather than the movie (Just because I like the dialogue more and it's more scientifically accurate). However, there will be a couple scenes from the movie sprinkled in just because I thought they were fun. I hope you enjoy!

It was the morning of Sol 6 and you were up early to make some coffee before your EVA mission. The past few days on Mars had been busy, but far more rewarding than you could have ever imagined. You were one of the geologists in the Ares 3 crew, along with Commander Lewis of course. Mars, to you, was a playground of science. A giant sphere of discovery you couldn't wait to explore.

Today's EVA was to gather samples from near the hab. You had seen plenty of rocks on the way in that you needed to overturn almost as much as you needed oxygen to breathe.

You sensed a hand on the small of your back and felt goosebumps trail up your spine. "Morning Y/L/N. Anything to report?" A playful voice proclaimed.

"Other than bland coffee and terrible sleep, nothing of interest~" You turned back and smiled at your boyfriend. He brushed his thumb over a patch of exposed skin on your lower back before pulling his hand away.

"Hey, at least you don't have to sleep under Martinez, bastard was tossing and turning all night." He smirked as he made his own cup. "I'm barely getting by, the only thing keeping me grounded is this bland ass coffee."

You snickered and rolled your eyes. "Poor baby," You teased.

You and Mark Watney had been together for almost three years, in secret of course. NASA isn't exactly fond of sending couples into space where they might throw caution to the wind and procreate in transit. You were professionals, this mission was something you both had been looking forward to since it was announced. But that wouldn't stop the Space Administration from removing you both from Ares 3.

Nobody knew you were together. Not NASA, not your families, not even the crew knew of your relationship. As far as anyone was concerned, you were just great friends (inseparable in fact). You went out for dinners, went on morning jogs together, spent late nights gaming and going over the mission handbook. Everyone knew you confided in one another and worked incredibly as a team. But nobody would have guessed that instead of playing Yahtzee together on your evenings off, Mark was slowly and deliciously making you breathless with his lips, melting you with his touch.

Once the mission actually started, it was much harder than anticipated to cut out the physical affection. There were cameras everywhere on the ship and absolutely no way to hide from them. The only place for privacy was the bathrooms, but you had a rather close call that involved Mark dragging you there under the guise of helping him with his laptop (which obviously earned an eyebrow raise from Johanssen,) only for him to kiss you with the desperation of a man dying of thirst. You were nearly caught by Beck and you both decided not to risk it again. Luckily, you and Watney were a couple of problem solvers.

Instead of kisses, you resorted to touching. A hand on the back, an arm on the shoulder, a nudge of the elbow. Casual touch became your replacement for intimacy.

Mark pulled a smug smile and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. "You know what Y/N, I am a poor baby. But I can think of something that would make me feel better..." He whispered close to your ear. You flushed and playfully shoved him back.

"In your dreams Watney." You scoffed but your hand lingered on his stomach, earning a cheeky grin from the botanist.

"How'd you know?" He laughed, glancing down at your lips briefly. You knew what he was thinking: that it had been awhile and maybe he could risk just a little peck. Mark was a reckless one, that's for sure.

"Guys, quit flirting so loudly. I was trying to get a few minutes extra sleep before Lewis pulls out the bugle," Beck strolled in and grabbed a ration packet.

"Flirting? With him?" You asked incredulously, jabbing your thumb toward Mark.

"And vice versa," Beck shrugged.

"You must be seeing things, maybe we should call a doctor?" Watney sassily took a sip of his drink.

"Hilarious," Beck replied. Chris had been fighting for you and Mark to get together for about as long as you've known him (which is a decent number of years, in case you were wondering.) Little did he know you had already jumped that fence. You felt bad for keeping it from him, but you were sure he'd understand given his thing with Johanssen.

"Oh good, you guys are already up." Lewis sighed "hey, can one of you wake up Martinez? He's not listening to a single word I say."

You gave Watney a sidelong glance. He groaned and downed the rest of his terrible space coffee. "Yeah sure, I can go get the bastard. I'll give him a piece of my mind while I'm at it." Mark stomped off to the bunks and Lewis followed him. You casually sat beside Beck, who gave you a knowing smile.

"You know Chris, it would probably happen on its own if you didn't push it so much." You mumbled against the rim of your cup in an attempt to hide a smile.

"It's obvious he likes you too. Practically written all over his face," Beck said. "Honestly though, you two don't even realize when you're flirting. It's kind of incredible."

You huffed, "Now's not the best time for all that, you know."

"I know, I know. Just, keep it on the table okay?"

"Whatever you say Dr. Beck," You snickered. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an EVA to prep for."

Chris rolled his eyes and poked at the food on his plate, "you're excused."

~~~

"Alright team, stay in sight of each other. Let's make NASA proud today." Lewis announced.

"How's it looking over there Watney?" Martinez asked.

"Well, you'll be happy to hear that in grid section 14/28, the particles are predominantly coarse. But in 29 they're uh... much finer. That should be ideal for chem analysis."

"Oh wow! did everyone hear that? Mark just discovered dirt! Should we alert the media?" Martinez teased. Mark glanced up at you, but you couldn't see his face behind the helmet.

"Hey, you better watch it fly boy. I'm working this grid too!" You laughed.

"Sorry, what are you doing today Martinez? Making sure the MAV is still upright?" You could hear the smirk in Mark's voice.

"Well, I'd like you to know that visual inspection of the equipment is imperative to mission success," Rick preached. "I'd also like to report that the MAV is still upright."

You and Mark giggled as you worked on the grid. "Watney, you're keeping your channel open, which leads to Martinez responding, which leads to all of us listening, which leads to me being annoyed," Lewis scolded halfheartedly.

"Roger that, Martinez the captain would like you to please uh," Mark looked at you for approval and continued. "Shut your smart mouth."

Rick cackled and you playfully nudged Mark on the shoulder.

"We'd prefer you use a different adjective to describe Martinez's mouth." Beck said from inside the Hab, resulting in even more laughter from the rest of the crew.

"Did Beck just insult me?!"

"Dr. Beck and yes!"

"I'm happy to turn the radios off from here commander. Just say the word." Johanssen suggested.

"Johanssen, constant communication is the hallmark-" Watney started.

"Shut him off" Melissa gave the order.

"No-" Johanssen cut him off. Mark tossed his little hammer in the dirt and looked back at the captain like she had just kicked a kitten. You patted the shoulder of his suit and urged him to get back to work.

"I'm sorry for my countrymen, Vogel." Lewis said.

"Accepted," Vogel shrugged and glanced up at the sky. "The storm... It's closer than Houston reported."

"We've got time," Lewis said. "Focus on the task at hand. This EVA's all about chemical analysis. Vogel, you're the chemist so you're in charge of what we dig up."

"Ja, Please dig thirty centimeters and get soil samples. At least one hundred grams each. Very important is thirty centimeters down." Vogel clarified, eyes back on his work.

"Will do, stay within a hundred meters of the Hab," Lewis said.

You worked in peace and quiet for a few minutes. You measured the grid while Mark hammered the grid labels. You could hardly wait to take samples. Mark was right, it was perfect for chem analysis. Unfortunately, your work was short-lived because Johanssen had some bad news.

"Commander, you should come inside. You're gonna want to see this."

"What is it?" Lewis asked.

"Houston has upgraded the storm to 'severe.' It's going to be here in fifteen minutes." Johanssen said.

You perked your head up to get a look at the sky. Already it was getting darker.

"Martinez, how's it looking?" Asked commander Lewis.

"Not good." He said.

After a moment of contemplation, Lewis made her decision. "Back to base."

~~~

The Hab shook and the sound of wind and debris outside only exacerbated the tension within. Lewis commanded everyone to put on their flight suits and you congregated around the screen, wondering if this was the end of your mission.

"Sustained winds over one hundred kilometers per hour now. Gusting to one twenty-five," Johanssen frowned.

"Jesus, we're gonna end up in Oz," Watney said. "What's the abort speed?"

"One fifty kilometers per hour, anymore than that and the MAV's in danger of tipping." Martinez placed his hands on his hips.

"Any predictions on the storm track?" Lewis asked.

"This is the edge of it... It's gonna get worse before it gets better." Johanssen delivered the bad news with confidence. Silence fell over the group and you grabbed Mark's hand. You wished you could feel the warmth, but the gloves on the flight suit acted as a barrier. Watney met your sorrowful eyes. You'd have to end the mission before it even started. He let go of your hand and pressed you into his side. It was over. 25 sols early. You leaned your head against his shoulder and willed the grief to subside.

"Alright, prep for abort. We'll go to the MAV and hope for the best. If the wind gets too high, we launch." Lewis grabbed her helmet.

~~~

Outside the Hab, the wind was disastrous. Mark was nearly swept off his feet by the force of the gusts. He slammed into you, but you managed to keep him on his feet.

"Shit! Thanks." Watney regained his balance.

"Visibility is almost zero. If you get lost, hone in on my suit's telemetry! The wind's gonna be rougher away from the Hab, so be ready!" Lewis warned.

The Ares crew stumbled toward the MAV with ever increasing uncertainty. You had to lean into the wind to avoid being thrown backward. Mark wasn't doing much better. It didn't help that his mind wasn't on getting to the MAV safely, it was on how to keep it upright. Watney was smart, too smart for his own good.

"Hey," Watney panted. "Maybe we could shore up the MAV. Make tipping less likely."

"How?" Lewis Huffed.

"We could use cables from the solar farm as guylines. The rovers could be anchors. The trick would be getting the line around the-"

You choked on your scream as Mark was struck by a massive piece of wreckage, sending him off into the disorienting mist of dust and wind.

"MARK!" You screamed and tried to stumble after him, but you could barely see an inch in front of your helmet.

"What happened?" Lewis said.

"Something hit him!" Johanssen said shakily.

"Watney report..." Lewis said. You listened hard and prayed he'd answer. "Watney, report!" Nothing.

"He's offline, I don't know where he is." Johanssen reported as calmly as she could. You bit back a whimper as you shuffled forward.

"Commander, before we lost telemetry, his decompression alarm went off!" Beck said.

"Shit! Y/L/N, where did you last see him?" Lewis asked.

"H-he was right in front of me and then he was gone," you managed. "He flew off due west" You pointed.

"Okay, Martinez, get to the MAV and prep for launch. Everyone else, home in on Johanssen."

"Dr. Beck, how long can a person survive decompression?" Vogel asked.

"Less than a minute." Beck looked back at you. You could hear the pain in his voice. No. Mark couldn't be... He was just beside you a moment ago.

"Commander, the MAV's got a seven degree tilt. It'll tip at 12.3."

"Copy that."

He's alive, he can't be dead!

"Johanssen, Watney's bio-monitor sent something before going offline. My computer just says 'Bad Packet,'" Beck said.

"Give me a sec," Johanssen said.

"Commander, message from Houston. We're officially scrubbed. The storm's definitely too rough."

"Copy."

"Beck, I have the raw packet!" Johanssen said, "It's plaintext: BP 0, PR 0, TP 36.2. That's as far as I got."

Beck sighed and shook his head. "Blood pressure zero, pulse rate zero, temperature normal..."

Your chest tightened and your eyes burned. "Temperature normal?" You asked hopefully.

"It takes a while for the-" Beck swallowed. "It takes awhile to cool."

"Commander, tilting at 10.5 degrees now, with gusts pushing it to 11." Martinez reported.

"Copy, if it tips, launch."

"What about you commander?"

"I'm going to search a little more."

"You really think I'll leave you behind?" Martinez asked.

"I just ordered you to. You four, get to the ship." Lewis replied.

"Let me help search commander, we'll find him faster if we-" Lewis cut you off.

"That's an order, Y/L/N. Go."

Beck nudged you forward. You reluctantly allowed him to.

"Johanssen, would the rover IR camera do any good?"

"Negative. IR can't get through sand any better than visible light."

"What about the proximity radar? Could it detect Watney's suit?"

"No way. It's made to see Hermes, not the metal in a single space suit."

"Give it a try," Lewis ordered.

"Commander, I know you don't want to hear this... but Wat-... Mark's dead." Beck said.

No.

Please...

Everything around you was a blur. You went through the motions from training. Strapping yourself in, readying your station, waiting for launch. You couldn't look at the empty seat beside you. You couldn't think about anything but your job right now, If you allowed your thoughts to that dark place, you'd have to be dragged along by the rest of the crew.

You couldn't do that to them. Not now.

Lewis returned to the ship and strapped herself in. "Still at pilot-release," Martinez said softly. "Ready for launch."

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"I'm sorry Commander, you need to verbally-"

"Launch."

You felt the bone-crushing power of ascent. The g's did nothing but forcefully push the tears from your eyes.

You wish it would have been you.

~~~

Mark Watney closed out of the mission log application and stared at the computer screen for a few minutes. He couldn't fathom the hopelessness he was feeling, it was too deep to swim out of. What else was there to do but sit and wait to die? Maybe it would be easier to just go into the airlock and open the doors!

Watney turned his head to a picture of you on the wall behind the computer. It was there among other pictures of the crew and their families. You were standing with your brother in front of one of those rickety wooden roller coasters at Six Flags. He felt a painful twinge in his chest. You thought he was dead and there was no way to tell you otherwise.

He was completely alone, had the whole goddamned planet to himself. Mark rubbed his hands over his face. "Fuck..." he said. "Fuck!" he pulled at the hair on his head before looking up at the picture again. He wished he would have kissed you. He wanted to that morning when you were sharing coffee. He should have said he loved you. Mark hadn't said it in so long.

He knew you like the back of his hand. You were blaming yourself. Everyone in the crew was probably doing the same. He could barely stomach the thought.

Mark grabbed the picture from the wall and shuffled to the bunks. He was so tired and in a lot of pain from the stupid antenna. He was about to settle into his bed, when his eyes landed on yours. After a moment of deliberation, he hobbled into your bunk and pulled the covers up to his chin. It still smelled like you. He buried his face into your pillow and cried.

~~~

You sat in the dining area in the Hermes, watching as the windows slowly spun around. It had been about a week since the incident and you weren't sure you had any more tears left to cry. You did your best to keep on task during your waking hours, only allowing yourself to feel when everyone else was either asleep or taking the piloting shift.

Your fingers drummed lightly against the table, mingling with the beeps, boops, groans, and hums of the ship keeping you safe from the unforgiving vacuum of space. You thought about a lot of things. About Mark, his parents, the house he wanted so badly to buy, his favorite music, his plants growing in the botany lab... The one thing you didn't want to think about was his body, how it would be buried by sand and dust within the year, how Mars would never let it decay. You tried not to think about how if you had just reached for him, maybe he'd still be alive.

"Y/N?" A familiar German accent spoke. You tensed and dared a glance back at Vogel.

"Hey, what's up?" You plastered a grin on your face.

"I have noticed you've not been sleeping. You are... Okay?" He asked, lumbering closer. He was clearly very tired and you felt terrible he was here worrying about you instead of getting some much deserved rest.

"Yeah... Yeah I'm okay Alex, just... Can't sleep." You sighed.

"Have you spoken to doctor Beck? I am sure we have sleep medication on board."

"Oh I know... I just don't really want to bother him, you know? I mean, we're all going through it right now..." You shifted under his gaze.

"You are having bad dreams," Vogel stated. "You're afraid if you sleep, they will come back."

"How could you tell?" You peeked tiredly up at him.

"My little monkeys... before I left, some of them had bad dreams. A father can always tell." He sat down beside you at the table.

You felt your eyes burning again. You hadn't dared ask for comfort from your crew mates, not even Chris. Now that you were receiving it, you wished you had asked for it long ago. There was a hellish cocktail of emotions running through you: relief, sadness, safety, longing, despair. You were so relieved that Alex was here. You were sad to think about how deeply his loved ones must be missing him. You thought about what Alex said about his "little monkeys." Mark would have made a great father if he'd only had the chance.

"You love him. Very much," Vogel said.

"I did..." You whispered.

"You do." Alex grabbed your hand and the tears poured from your eyes. "You do..."

"I do," You let out a choked sob. Vogel pulled you into a gentle hug.

"This pain of loss we feel... It will never go away. But it will get easier to live with as time goes by. This, I promise is true."

"Thank you Alex." You whispered.

"You're welcome..." He patted your back and pulled away. "Now, shall we try some rest?"

"I'll try," you put on a brave face.

"And- what is it?-" He thought aloud. "When first you don't succeed-"

"Try try again," You said with a sad smile. "Words to live by."

~~~

LOG ENTRY: SOL 23

So, I'm still brain storming the whole, "Mark Watney can only really make his potato farm last 90 days," problem. Can't say It's going too well. I'm surrounded by the stench of my own shit. Kinda distracting.

I've made the executive decision to take a long overdue break out in the rover. Sure, logically I know I should probably utilize every spare second on planning my survival right down to the last drop of water, but riddle me this: just who is gonna stop me? Not NASA, that's for sure.

It's funny. I came into the rover to escape the rancid poop smell, but it seems to have followed me. Turns out, I was the poop smell all along! If Y/N were here, they would have forcibly shoved into the shower. They'd say something like... "Don't even think about touching me until you smell like ocean breeze!" (What does ocean breeze even smell like? How do you smell a breeze?...)There are few things in life Y/N hates more than stink. Me being on Mars is probably one of them.

What I would give to see you right now. Even just a dream would be nice, but I guess that's asking too much.

I miss my parents a lot. Maybe that's an understatement. I haven't really let myself think about it, but sitting here in this cramped rover really has my mind wandering. I really should have told them about Y/N. Maybe if things don't work out for me, they could confide in each other.

I don't have much else to say. The calculations aren't done and quite frankly, I'm depressed.

I'll probably scrub this log from the system, It's kind of a downer.

~~~

You had been doing better. Getting at least 6 hours of sleep a day was an accomplishment and you were eating your meals, but a certain date on the calendar was growing closer. You made yourself busier and busier, but no amount of work would keep this day from coming.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 62

On Earth it's January 8th, which is a very special day. Our anniversary! It's official, we've been together for three years! Yeah, yeah I hear you. These logs are for work purposes only, but I promise no one's gonna see this one. Not even you.

I think about that day a lot. It was freezing outside and snowing everywhere. I don't even remember why we walked to the cafe that day, but I'm thankful for it. You were holding your hot cup so tightly and your coat wasn't nearly thick enough for the weather. You were complaining that the snow came early and I laughed at you.

I think we both knew for a long time that this would happen. A year at least. We kept ourselves just at arms length, on the brink of lovers without ever crossing that line. We never discussed it before, but we knew once the mission was over, we'd do it. We'd take that step.

I had wanted to kiss you all day. Want isn't really the word for it. How about craved. Desired? Yearned~

I wrapped my coat around you and you complained again, said that I'd catch a cold and it would all be your fault. The way you looked at me... Still gives me chills when I think about it. It's like I'm still standing on that sidewalk, snowflakes landing on my nose.

I told you, "I can think of something that'll warm us both up..."

You said, "Then what are you waiting for?"

I was right of course. I always am. I just didn't expect you to be so... magnetizing! Like damn babe, you had me weak in the knees! (What am I, a Disney princess?)

I'll be back with you someday. It'll be your anniversary present from me. You're welcome in advance. XOXO - World's Handsomest Boyfriend.

-P.S. You left your deodorant in the Hab. I've been using it. Totally not creepy.

-P.P.S. Who's the stinky one now?

-P.P.P.S. You better be prepared, when I get off this wasteland of a planet, I'm making up for lost time. You aren't gonna be able to walk for AT LEAST a week.

-P.P.P.P.S. I was talking about CUDDLING you perv~

(or was I? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

~~~

This had to be one of the greatest days in Mark Watney's life.

Contact.

Sweet, sweet contact!

[11:18]JPL: Mark, This is Venkat Kapoor. We've been watching you since Sol 49. The whole world's been rooting for you. Amazing job, getting Pathfinder. We're working on rescue plans. JPL is adjusting Ares 4's MDV to do a short overland flight. They'll pick you up, then take you with them to Schiaparelli. We're putting together a supply mission to keep you fed until Ares 4 arrives.

Watney could hardly believe it! Everything was working! They had known he was alive since Sol 49! His eyes were brimming and his breathing came out in short gasps as he fought to control himself. He used to take messages for granted, now they're the only tether he has to humanity.

He's not alone anymore.

His hands shook as he wrote out his message.

[11:29]Watney: Glad to hear it. Really looking forward to not dying. I want to make it clear it wasn't the crew's fault. What did they say when they found out I was alive?

Mark shifted in his seat. The reply was taking a bit longer than expected. He hadn't talked to anyone in so long. The thought of being so close, only to fail right in the beginning was terrifying. He wasn't sure he could survive that kind of disappointment.

[11:48]JPL: We haven't told the crew you're alive yet. We wanted them to focus on their own mission.

What. The. Fuck.

Mark covered his face with his hands and released a frustrated groan. "You've got to be shitting me!"

You didn't know. You didn't know he was alive.

"What the fuck? Wha... What the fuck?!" He took a shaky breath and wrestled with his frustration.

[12:05]Watney: They don't know I'm alive? What the fuck? WTF? Seriously! What the fuck is wrong with you?

[12:23]JPL: Please watch your language. Everything you type is being broadcast live all over the entire world.

They did not just say that.

After everything he has been through, there is no way JPL just told him to watch his language.

So, that's how they want to play it, huh?

[12:42]Watney: Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck shit fuck! Fuck fuckity fuckfuckfuck! Oh look! A pair of boobs!-> (.Y.) How's that for watching my language, you goddamned bureaucratic felchers!

NASA got the message loud and clear.

~~~

Four months passed and you fell into a routine. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, repeat. It was predictable, which was something you were thankful for.

You took on Watney's role as the ship's botanist. You weren't as good as him, but really, who was? You couldn't match his skill even if you tried. Still, you followed all of his experiments. Took diligent notes and snapped as many pictures as you could.

Martinez joked that you took better care of the plants than yourself. It was one of those jokes meant to expose an underlying issue: You weren't looking after yourself. There was a shadow hanging over everything you did. The crew was experiencing it too. Mark Watney was one of a kind. Everyone he touched felt his loss so viscerally, so deeply.

You needed time, just like Vogel said. But that didn't mean everyone had to be okay with you beating yourself up like this.

Lewis knew better than anyone how you were feeling. As the Commander, she should have tried a little harder. And you... You were right there in arm's reach. Yes, Lewis knew how you felt only too well.

You heard a faint Knock in the doorway. You looked up from the camera and met Beck's eyes.

"Data dump will be completed soon. Care to join?" He smiled.

You managed a smile back, "Yeah, sure. I'm hoping I got something from my siblings. Maybe my niece and nephew too." You strapped the camera to the wall so it wouldn't float away, then you pushed yourself toward your crewmate.

"How about your parents?" He asked.

"Oh, that's a given. I can't get them to leave me alone," you chuckled.

You floated down to Semicone-A, where everyone else was already waiting for the data dump.

"Is it here yet?" Beck asked.

"Almost, it's at ninety-eight percent." Johanssen shot him a grin.

"You're looking cheerful, Martinez," Beck laughed.

"My son turned three yesterday." He beamed. Should be some pics of the party. How about you?"

"Oh, nothing special. Just some peer reviews of a paper I wrote a few years back."

"Complete," Johanssen said. "All the personal e-mails are dispatched to your laptops. Also there's a telemetry update for Vogel and a system update for me....Huh.... There's a voice message addressed to the whole crew."

"Play it." Lewis shrugged. Everyone gathered around the screen as Beth pressed play.

"Hermes, this is Mitch Henderson," the message started.

"Henderson? Talking directly to us without CAPCOM?"

Lewis raised her hand to signal silence.

"I have some news. There's no subtle way to put this:.....Mark Watney's still alive."

Your stomach dropped.

"Wha-" Beck choked.

"I know that's a surprise. And I know you'll have a lot of questions. We're going to answer those questions. But for now I'll just give you the basics. He's alive and healthy. We found out two months ago and decided not to tell you. I was strongly against all that. We're telling you now because we finally have communication with him and a viable rescue plan. It boils down to Ares 4 picking him up with a modified MDV. We'll get you a full write-up of what happened, but it's definitely not your fault. Mark stresses that every time it comes up."

You clenched your eyes shut as they burned painfully with tears.

"Take some time to absorb this. Your science schedules are cleared for tomorrow. Send all the questions you want and we'll answer them. Henderson out."

Silence fell over the bridge.

"He...He's alive?" Martinez beamed.

"He lives." Vogel nodded excitedly and squeezed your shoulder.

"Holy shit!" Beck laughed. "Holy shit! Commander! He's alive!"

"I left him behind," Lewis muttered.

You covered your eyes with your hands, fighting to stay quiet.

"No, hey... we all left togeth-"

"You followed orders...I left him behind. In a barren, unreachable, godforsaken wasteland." Lewis scowled and trudged off the bridge.

Everyone stood around the console. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Y/N?" Chris asked softly.

"Are you okay?" Beth added.

You shook your head. You couldn't look at any of them right now.

"I need a minute..." you said softly before hurrying back out of the Semicone. You retreated back to the comfort of the botany lab. It was all so much to process.

First Mark is dead, you left him behind to die. Then Mark is alive, you left him behind to die. He doesn't want you to blame yourselves, it was terrible luck. He's healthy. He can contact Earth. Mars is a desolate planet. He's all alone. On an entire planet. You left him there. He will never be safe until he's back on Earth soil. It will be four years until Ares 4 arrives.

He will be alone on Mars for four years.

You left him there.

~~~

Y/N,

I'm typing this letter to you because talking to you relaxes me. I won't actually be sending this to you. It's not going to be professional in nature like the other notes I've sent you. (JPL says that you have received all of them, but have neglected to send me any of your responses. The only one I have gotten from any of the crew was one from Lewis. She invited me for beer to make up for leaving me on Mars.)

Anyway, some bad stuff happened. I wish you were here. Not because I want you to have been launched by an airlock. Never that. I just really fucking miss you. I really need you right now. I almost died last night. I had to do some serious surgery on my suit to keep me alive and I had to sift through the dilapidated remnants of the Hab to find a new one.

I'm so tired. I just want you to hold me. I'm so sick of all of this. Fuck Mars, Fuck the Hab. I'm so sick and tired of getting my hopes up and being disappointed. I miss you so much. You make every one of my bad days good. I know if you were here, everything would be okay again.

Why did this have to happen?

Mars keeps throwing curve balls at me, but I'm not giving up. I've got a lot to look forward to and I'm trying to focus on that.

-Mark

P.S. Your bed stopped smelling like you a month ago.

~~~

The crew of Ares 3 met in the Rec. A secret message had arrived not even an hour ago. One that would alter their mission by 533 extra days.

"Are we going to do it?" Johanssen asked.

"I won't lie, I'd sure as hell like to. But this isn't a normal decision. This is something NASA expressly rejected. We're talking about mutiny. And that's not a word I throw around lightly," Lewis explained. "We'll only do it if we all agree. And before you answer, consider the consequences. If we mess up the supply rendezvous, we die. If we mess up the Earth gravity assist, we die. If we do everything correctly, we add 533 days to our mission. 533 days of unplanned space travel where anything could go wrong. Maintenance will be a hassle. Something might break that we can't fix. If it's life-critical, we die."

"Sign me up!" Martinez announced, causing you to smile. At least someone else was as enthusiastic to bring Mark home as you were.

"Easy, cowboy. You and I are military. There's a good chance we'd be court-martialed when we get home. As for the rest of you, I guarantee they'll never send you up again," Lewis said.

"If we do this," Vogel looked to you and back at Lewis. "It would mean over one thousand days of space. This is enough space for a life. I do not need to return."

You couldn't have possibly said it better yourself. It was like Alex was reading your mind.

"Sounds like Vogel's in. Me too obviously," Martinez laughed.

"Let's do it," Beck agreed.

"If you think it'll work, I trust you," Johanssen said.

Lewis nodded and turned to you. "Y/L/N?"

"You don't even need to ask me. Let's go get our boy," You smiled.

Wow. This is the first time you've smiled... a real smile, since leaving Mars.

'Hang in there babe,' You thought. 'I'm on my way.'

~~~

LOG ENTRY: SOL 192-2

Yep, another secret letter do my dear, long lost love~ How predictable. I don't really care, today's been a great day. I can't believe you're coming back for me! Here I was, thinking I'd have to survive without you for four years. Then there you go, riding in from the sunset to bring me home.

Logically I know the rest of the crew had something to do with it, but I kind of like the idea that maybe I am a Disney princess and you're my knight in shining armor coming to rescue me.

It's like the story of Rapunzel, except my tower is a whole planet and instead of catching my hair, you're catching my MAV. Now that I think about it, the stories are more different than they are similar.

That hardly matters though, what does matter is that for the first time I actually feel like I'll survive. I trust our team with every fiber of my being, but most of all I trust you. I'm gonna rest easy tonight. And in the morning I'll start my work on the rovers!

See you in about a year babe! I'll be counting down the hours. Literally.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 426

Happy anniversary Y/N! You thought I'd forget? Never! You know why that is? Because I fucking love you, that's why!

Four years we've been together as of today, that's assuming we are counting the year we've been apart as "being together", (which I do.) Today I'm really beating myself up over frying Pathfinder with my drill all those months ago. It was my only form of communication with you and I royally fucked it up.

You'd think that cutting myself off from Earth, NASA and humanity at large would be what upset me the most. Nope, it's the fact that I can't send you a super sneaky secret anniversary e-mail. I also missed my parents' birthdays, your birthday, Christmas AND Thanksgiving. Twice. Also, fucking Valentine's day! I used to hate that holiday before I met you.

Anyway, as you can see, I totally have all my priorities in order! Also! I got you a present~ Since you have no way to read this, I don't feel bad spoiling it for you. I found a little rock. It's in the shape of a heart.

Awwww wow! That's cute, I just realized that I'm giving you my heart for our anniversary! To be honest, you had it a long time ago.

I miss you. I miss your smell, your eyes, the feel of your skin. Most of all, I really, really miss your voice. I just want to hear you. I've forgotten what you sound like. I'm scared If I didn't have this picture of you and your brother, I'd forget what your face looks like too.

I'm starting my long commute to Schiaparelli in 23 days. It'll be a two month drive. I really hate driving in the rover. But if it gets me to you, who cares? I'm stalling. I've got a lot of work tomorrow and I just want to enjoy today. I wish I was there with you to enjoy it obviously, but we can't all get what we want (least of all, me.) I've learned how to settle.

Speaking of settling, what do you think about getting married in the woods, or a big grassy field? I'd like there to be as much green as possible. No red or orange, we're talking the opposite side of the color wheel here. I can picture you walking down the aisle. I'll be an absolute mess, but who cares. You're the love of my life. Thanks for, y'know, coming back to pick me up instead of leaving me to die on Mars.

I hope you like the rock.

-Mark

P.S. I grew a beard and my hair looks like the 80's had a baby with a grease monster. You'd hate it.

P.P.S. I hope you're into pirates~

P.P.P.S. Y/N Watney... Mark Y/L/N... hmmmmm, so hard to choose!

P.P.P.P.S. We are never eating potatoes again.

P.P.P.P.P.S And ABSOLUTELY NO DISCO MUSIC!

~~~

You stared at Mars creeping back into view. The last time you were here, Mark was sitting beside you, arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder. Maybe it wasn't your most subtle of moments, but how could anyone not be enthralled by the beauty of the red planet? Even now it was hard not to feel stricken with wonder.

Sometimes your mind played tricks on you. You'd see a speck of dust on the window and think you could see Watney on the surface. That was ridiculous of course, There is no possible way to see an individual person this far out. That didn't stop you from imagining it.

NASA had briefed everyone on the Martian's health, explained that he wouldn't look the same as the last time you saw him. You expected as much, but the thought still worried you. It wasn't that you were worried if you'd still find him attractive, there was no force on Earth or beyond that could change how much you loved Mark Watney. It was his health that worried you.

During all your back and forth questions with NASA that Henderson had arranged, you inquired about his health. They said he was doing well, but that he was stretching his little amount of food to its limits. That's what scared you the most. How would his immune system fare? How would he acclimate back to normal food on Earth? All of these questions went unanswered. NASA was honest, "we won't know for sure until he gets here."

"Mind if I join you?" Lewis asked softly, floating a short distance away.

"Of course Commander. I'd like the company," You said. It was surprising to realize you actually meant it. It'd been awhile since you wanted to spend time with anyone.

Melissa floated further into the cupola and settled beside you.

"Crazy to think that in a few days he'll be up here with us again..." Lewis said softly.

"Yeah..." you said softly, keeping your eyes ahead.

"I know how much you miss him... You two were always great friends."

You swallowed hard and tried to ignore the pit in your stomach as you nodded. "Yeah..."

You could see Lewis looking at you out of the corner of your eye. Her expression was conflicted. "I'm really sorry this happened. I know it's been hard on you. I should have searched a little longer-"

"Commander." You stopped her from continuing. "You did all you could. You made the right decision. I wish none of this had happened, but none of this was your fault. It couldn't have been easy to make the choice, and I'm willing to bet that if I were in your shoes, I wouldn't have been strong enough to do it. I'm sure everyone else feels the same exact way, Mark included." You placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks, that's... Thank you," Melissa smiled.

"We're a team, that's what we do. We keep each other grounded."

"That's actually sort of what I wanted to talk to you about..."

"What do you mean?"

"NASA just sent the message a few minutes ago. They're letting us talk to Watney... Directly," Lewis said. You blinked in surprise. No matter how many times you asked, NASA wouldn't allow any kind of direct communication. You wondered why the sudden change of heart.

"Henderson thinks we need to remind him of what he has to look forward to, keep his eyes on the prize so to speak. At least, that's how he's been pitching it to the director. Anyway, the rest of the crew and I agree you should be the one to do it," she finished.

"R-really? I can talk to him?" You asked hopefully, hoping this wasn't a dream.

"Y/N, I can't think of anyone else he would need to hear from more."

~~~

Mark was waiting by the coms in the MAV for any final updates from NASA regarding the meticulous destruction of his ship, piece by piece. He had just finished taking out the main window and it was heavy as hell, even in Mars gravity. He was happy he at least had some time to rest after all that hard work. If he was lucky, maybe they'd wait too long and it would be too dark to get any work done. He could use a good sleep, it seemed like he was needing it more and more lately. Watney suddenly heard the telltale beeps that signaled an incoming message. He was expecting a barrage of questions about his progress, instead he got something so much better.

[19:22] Y/L/N: Hey, Mark.

Mark's voice got caught in his throat.

Y/N.

It had been so fucking long since he talked to you. His eyes burned and his hands shook. Watney leaned his head back in relief, thanking god for this incredible gift. "I just about gave up on you man..." Mark smiled to the sky before nervously typing back.

[19:23] MAV: Y/N!? Holy crap! They're finally letting you talk to me directly?

You released a sigh and covered your face with your hands. He was responding! Really responding! Everyone was looking at you. Beck beamed at you while Martinez watched on with interest. Lewis was waiting to see if you could handle it. No way you were gonna let this one chance slip through your fingers. You sniffed and wiped your eyes before responding.

[19:24] Y/L/N: Yes, NASA just gave the OK for direct communication an hour ago. We're only 35 light-seconds apart, so we can talk in near-real time. Johanssen just set up the system and I'm testing it out.

Mark sighed and smiled. Level headed and professional as always. How you had such self control, he had no idea.

[19:24] MAV: What took them so long to let us talk?

You looked up at Lewis, silently asking if you could relay the truth. She nodded.

[19:25] Y/L/N: The psych team was worried about personality conflicts. [19:25] MAV: Why? Just 'cause you guys abandoned me on a godforsaken planet with no chance of survival?

Mark typed without thinking and as soon as he hit send, he regretted it. He didn't want you to feel bad, It was a joke. You'd understand that right?

[19:26] Y/L/N: Not funny. Don't make me come down there and kick you.

Watney let out a choked laugh. Half a chuckle and half a sob.

[19:26] MAV: God I missed you.

You smiled at the screen and pushed down the urge to hug Martinez behind you. You were really talking to him! He was only 35 light-seconds away! Suddenly you realized you were blessed with an opportunity even more amazing than just talking with him. You could ask him what you had been asking in all of your disregarded emails!

[19:27] Y/L/N: We missed you too. I've had to take over the botany lab. You'll be happy to know I haven't killed any of your plants...Yet. How are you feeling? We've gotten a few updates from NASA regarding your health, but nothing in incredible detail.

Watney chuckled at the text appearing in front of him. 'Cute,' he thought.

[19:27] MAV: Awwww, are you worried about me?

The crew laughed and you shook your head, swiftly adding your response.

[19:28] Y/L/N: Do I really need to answer that?

Mark snickered and decided not to tease you. He wanted to tell you all of his woes and adequately prepare you for how much he had changed. But he didn't want to put a damper on the mood. Luckily, Watney was a master at sugarcoating.

[19:29] MAV: I'm doing okay. My clothing feels a little loose and I'm craving spaghetti. I'm also in desperate need of a shower. Other than that, I'm just fine. Looking forward to seeing you and the rest of the crew.

Your smile fell. You were happy he was being at least somewhat honest, but you knew it was probably worse than he was making out to be. Unfortunately, Watney was a master at sugarcoating.

[19:29] Y/L/N: We're looking forward to seeing you too. I think it's safe to say a big group hug is in order, if I can get Vogel in on it that is.

Watney hummed at the thought of holding you in his arms. The image was so clear, yet so far away.

[19:30] MAV: At this point, I'd even settle for holding hands. Group hug sounds nice. How are you doing Y/N? I wrote you a lot of emails.

You grimaced and thought your next words through very carefully. With the crew watching, it was hard to collect your thoughts.

[19:31] Y/L/N: I wrote you plenty of my own. There was only so much air time to be used outside of helping you survive. My guess is they put priority on Commander Lewis' emails. Rightfully so of course. I'm doing fine. I've missed you a lot. To be honest, a lot is probably a huge understatement. It's hard to express exactly what I want to say over message.

Mark nodded. You watched him presumably die, leave his 'body' behind, mourn his loss over a period of months, find out you left him there alive, be unable to talk to him for about a year, and suddenly he was here reading and responding to your messages, but you have to limit the details so as to keep those private thoughts private. He couldn't imagine what he would do if the roles were reversed. What you wanted to say needed to be kept between you and him. He understood. There was a lot he wanted to say too.

[19:32] MAV: I know what you mean. I'll be there soon, then you can tell me all about it in person. And I'll tell you all about my space crops and my long voyage to the MAV. Have I mentioned I'm a space pirate?

The crew laughed and for a moment, it felt like he was there. Really there.

[19:33] Y/L/N: Good to know you're still the funniest person on Mars. [19:33] MAV: Thanks! [19:33] MAV: Wait a minute! Rude! Don't make me come up there! [19:34] Y/L/N: Don't threaten me with a good time, Watney. [19:34] MAV: ;)

You were about to make some really elaborate emoji out of parentheses and dots, when you saw a notification from NASA. Playtime was over. You scowled as you broke the news to your boyfriend.

[19:34] Y/L/N: I hate to cut this short, but NASA wants us to keep the line open. We'll be in touch asking for updates on your progress, but don't expect too much witty banter.

Mark's heart sank a little, but there was no use in leaving such a perfect night on a sour note.

[19:35] MAV: Figures. NASA never lets me do anything fun! Tell the others I said hi. [19:36] Y/L/N: I'll be sure to pass it along!

Mark's leg tapped nervously. He knew NASA was right about keeping the line open, but he really didn't want it to end yet.

[19:36] MAV: Hey, thanks for coming to get my sorry ass. [19:36] Y/L/N: No thanks necessary. We'd do it a million times over.

Watney knew you meant it. He could feel the warmth through the bland MAV text on the screen. He couldn't wait to be up there with you...But what if something went wrong? Fuck, don't think about this now! Everything's going to be fine! Right? But what if... There was always a chance, especially on Mars, that things would not go your way. And the likelihood of him surviving this mission was slim at best. He needed to tell you. He should have said it a lot more. A whisper here and there in the hallways, maybe some stupid middle school secret code. Like hell he was going to pass up this one chance, consequences be damned.

[19:37] MAV: I love you, Y/N.

Your heart lurched in your chest. The room fell silent. Martinez lightly squeezed your shoulder. Your eyes flitted around the room to your colleagues. All of them stared with bewildered looks on their faces. What were you supposed to say? What if you got him in trouble? If he was worried about that, why would he send this in the first place?

'You know what, Fuck it,' you thought.

Watney watched the screen with baited breath. "Please..." He whispered. "Please."

[19:38] Y/L/N: I love you too Mark. Sleep well, we'll be there before you know it.

Mark released a cry of joy and typed through the tears.

[19:39] MAV: You too. Goodnight. [19:39] Y/L/N: Goodnight, Mark.

The line received no new messages after that. Mark rested there a moment before retreating back to the rover. Once the airlock had engaged, he removed his helmet and admired the picture of you and your brother he had taped to the rover computer.

He used to take those words for granted. Why say it when you could show it? He showed it to you as often as he could... At least he used to. You never made him question it for a second. You gave him compliments, brought him water on late nights, listened to his nerdy ramblings about plants and D&D. He'd help you to bed when you were too tired to stand, work out the knots in your shoulders while you typed. Over a year has passed and your grip on his heart is still firm. And when you said those three little words, all of it made sense again. Mark Watney would never again question the power of I love you. He was going to remind you every chance he got. He was going to ask you for it as often as possible. His mom and dad would hear it in every phone call, and no more excluding his friends. He loved them too. He would say it until the term loses all meaning, then he'd remember this night where I love you saved his life.

Mark took off his gloves and danced his thin fingers over the photograph.

"See you soon, baby..." He whispered, "I love you."

~~~

You pulled on your headset and took a deep, self soothing breath. In an hour, the love of your life was going to be launched into Mars's orbit in what could barely be considered a MAV. The thing was a Frankenstein version of the shuttle you had taken off the planet nearly two years ago.

You shook your head. What Mark needed right now was confidence. You could do that.

"How you feeling Y/L/N?" Martinez smiled over at you.

"Like I'm gonna throw up," You laughed.

"Anxious huh?" He smirked, "For the launch, or for your man?"

"Both," You smacked his arm and rolled your eyes. Martinez and Beck hadn't stopped giving you crap for the I love you texts. You didn't mind too much, it was nice being able to acknowledge that side of your relationship with Mark. Unfortunately it made for some rather awkward conversations with the NASA administrators.

"You got nothing to worry about, he's in good hands," Rick said reassuringly.

"I know, we're all badass trained professionals with years of experience," you chuckled. "I can't help it. I'm built to worry."

"You've checked and double checked the telemetry. Johanssen confirmed all of your calculations. It's going to be a smooth ride for sure."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

//////////

Mark scowled at his reflection in the mirror and stroked his beard. He looked like shit, no way around it. He hadn't taken a moment to really look at himself for a long time and he couldn't say he liked what he saw.

"It's the end of an era," Watney said to nobody as he grabbed the razor. "No more captain blonde-beard."

Mark took his time shaving his chin and trimming the hair on his head. By the end of it, he still looked like shit but slightly less so. He felt a little more like himself at least.

He patted his chest to make sure the picture was still there, tucked under his uniform. It was there, along with his anniversary present to you. He slipped the headset over his ears and turned it on. It was nearly time to go. Watney pulled the suit on over his head and double checked if it was all on securely.

"I'm leaving Mars today, one way or another..." He whispered. "About fucking time."

//////////

"Fuel engine green," Your voice seemed to cause time itself to slow down. Not just for Mark, but for the entire world. "Engine alignment, perfect." Mark closed his eyes took a series of deep breaths, trying in vain to keep his emotions in check. "Communications five by five. We are ready for preflight checklist, Commander."

"Copy." Lewis said. "Mission Control, this is Hermes actual. We will proceed on schedule. we have T minus two minutes, ten seconds to launch... Mark." The commander turned her attention to the man of the hour. "About two minutes Watney. How you doing down there?"

"I'm good." He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "I'm anxious to get up to you. Thanks for coming back for me."

You sniffed and shot a smile to Johanssen, who sent you a grin of her own.

"We're going to make it happen. Remember, You'll be pulling some pretty heavy g's. It's okay if you pass out. You're in Martinez's hands."

"Well, tell that asshole no barrel rolls."

"Copy that, MAV."

"CAPCOM."

"Go," you said.

Mark's bottom lip quivered

"Guidance."

"Go," Johanssen said.

"Remote Command."

"Go," Martinez said.

"Telemetry."

"Go," you said again.

He couldn't fight it anymore, he let the tears fall.

"Recovery."

"Go," Beck said.

"Secondary Recovery."

"Go," Vogel said.

"Pilot."

Mark steadied his voice before speaking, "go."

"Mission control, we are go for launch. T minus ten," You said.

"Nine."

"Eight."

"Seven."

"Six."

"Five."

Mark closed his eyes and focused on your voice. "See you in a few, baby..." He whispered.

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

The force of the blast was incredible, and growing more painful by the second. His breathing came out short and panicked as the Hab canvas rattled nightmarishly against the MAV. His panic only increased as the canvas ripped from the shuttle, exposing him to the full force of the MAV's thrust. He couldn't even scream. All he could do was watch the sky grow darker and darker.

"Watney." He heard your voice from far away.

"Watney, do you read me?" Your voice called again. His eyes drooped and his vision faded.

//////////

"Watney. Do you read?" You asked in the calmest voice you could muster.

"He's probably passed out. He pulled 12 g's on the ascent. Give him a few minutes," Beck said.

"Copy that." You said and turned your attention on the numbers before you. "I have interval pings. Intercept velocity will be eleven meters per second."

"I can make that work," Beck confirmed.

"Distance at intercept will be....we'll be sixty-eight kilometers apart..." You whimpered and buried your face in your hands.

"Did they say sixty-eight Kilometers? Kilometers?!" Beck cried.

"Keep it together, work the problem. Martinez, any juice left in the MAV?" Lewis asked.

"Negative, Commander."

"Then we'll have to go to him. Y/L/N, time to intercept?"

"Thirty-nine minutes, twelve seconds," You steeled yourself and focused on your coordinates.

"Martinez, what if we point the attitude thrusters all the same direction?" Lewis asked.

"Depends on how much we want to save for the attitude adjustments on the trip home."

"How much do you need?"

"I could get by with maybe twenty percent of what's left. If I use the other eighty percent... We'd get a delta-v of thirty-one meters per second."

"Y/L/N, Math."

"In thirty-nine minutes, we'd deflect....seventy-two kilometers! Use seventy-five point five percent of remaining attitude adjust fuel. That'll bring the intercept range to zero," You did the math quickly.

"Do it." Lewis said.

"Hold your horses, that'll get the range to zero, but the velocity will be forty-two meters per second."

"Then we have thirty-nine minutes to figure out how to slow down. Burn the jets."

//////////

Mark awoke to find himself spinning. Flashes of stars and the red glow of the Martian surface had him feeling a little dizzy. "MAV to Hermes?"

"Watney?" You gasped.

"Affirmative," he grunted.

"What's your status?" You asked calmly.

"Uhhh..." He winced and leaned back in his seat. "My chest hurts. I think I broke a rib. How are you, sweetheart?" He groaned.

"We're working on getting to you," you relayed. "There was a complication in the launch."

"Yeah," Watney dejectedly looked at the massive hole in the roof of his ship. "The canvas didn't hold. I think it ripped early in the ascent."

"That's consistent with what we saw during the launch," Lewis agreed.

"How bad is it, Commander?" he asked.

"We were able to correct the intercept range with Hermes's attitude thrusters, but there's a problem with the intercept velocity."

"How big a problem."

"Forty-two meters per second."

"Well..." Mark paused and tried to wrap his head around that number. "Shit."

//////////

You typed furiously, staring at your screen unblinkingly as you worked through all the possible ways to bring down the velocity.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Watney said.

"Of course you do, what have you got?" Lewis asked.

"I could find something sharp in here and poke a hole in my EVA suit. I could use the escaping air as a thruster and fly my way to you. The source of thrust would be on my arm, so I'd be able to control it pretty easily."

"How does he come up with this shit?" Martinez laughed.

"I can't see you having any control if you did. You'd be eyeballing the intercept using a thrust vector you can barely control."

"I admit it's fatally dangerous, but consider this: I'd get to fly around like Iron Man."

"We'll keep working on ideas," Lewis said.

"Iron Man, Commander. Iron Man."

"Stand by," Lewis temporarily cut contact with Watney.

You furrowed your brows at the screen, waiting for the correct course of action to jump out at you. Suddenly, there it was. "Wait! that's it!" you looked back at the Commander. "Mark's a genius! We could use the ship's atmosphere as thrust. We could blow the vehicular airlock. Seal the bridge and the reactor room. Iron Man... But bigger!"

"....." Melissa stared at you for a moment before addressing Alex. "Vogel?"

"Yes commander?"

"I need you to come inside and make a bomb," she ordered.

~~~

"I have visual, I can see the MAV," Beck said. "Jesus Mark, what did you do to that thing?"

"You should see the rover," Mark radioed. He was ready to get out of his goddamned chair, ready to get away from this hunk of junk that could barely be considered a MAV.

"Call out my velocity to Mark every two seconds or so," Chris said.

"Copy." You responded.

"Hey Beck, the front's wide open. I'll get up there and be ready to grab at you." Watney said.

"Negative, no untethered movement. Stay strapped to your chair until you're attached to Beck."

"Copy." Mark huffed. Lewis was right, impatience would be the death of him out here and he had come too far to die now. Instead, he focused on your voice calling out the relative velocity.

"Three point one meters per second."

"Eleven meters to target."

"Six meters."

"Contact." Beck grabbed the canvas of the destroyed MAV. "Firm contact."

"You have fourteen seconds Dr. Beck."

"Copy."

Nothing could have prepared Watney for how he'd feel seeing Beck's helmet poking through the opening.

Pure. Unadulterated. Serotonin.

"Visual on Watney!"

"Visual on Beck!"

"How ya doin' man?" Beck pushed himself toward Mark, meanwhile Mark was trying not to have another emotional breakdown.

"I....I just...Give me a minute, you're the first person I've seen in eighteen months," Watney croaked.

"We don't have a minute," Beck clumsily collided with Mark. "Contact with Watney... Connected!"

"Restraints off," Watney called.

"We're outta here!"

//////////

"Houston, this is Hermes actual. Seven crew safely aboard," Lewis's voice echoed in your mind as you, Martinez, Johanssen, and Lewis pushed yourselves toward the airlock where Vogel and Beck were bringing him in.

Mark.

You could see his dusty helmet from the small window on the airlock. Already you were feeling an overwhelming ache deep in your chest. There he was, only a few feet away, behind this door. Your crewmates flew in and clambered for Watney.

"Hey guys!" He laughed.

You were frozen in the doorway.

His helmet came off.

Everything slowed down.

Everyone was smiling and laughing. High fiving. Quick hugs. They all wanted to get as far away from the smell as they could.

Your eyes met.

There were beads of what looked like water floating in the air. When did you start crying?

Mark held out his arms to you and you wasted no more time. He hugged you as tightly as he could with the bulky arms of his EVA suit. His face buried into your neck as he cried softly. "Y/N...." He whispered in a broken voice. "Y-Y/N?"

"I'm right here Mark... Right here." You cradled the back of his head, scratching that spot at the base of his neck. He always liked it when you did that

"I stink, don't I?" Watney laughed in between sobs.

"You do. You really do," You tried to keep up the joke. "But if im being completely honest, I couldn't possibly care less," you laughed.

Slowly, you pulled back so you could get a good look at his face. He was thin. Gaunt, and covered in bed sores. That should have been expected of course, It's not like he had anywhere to shower in the rover. He looked at you like you were an angel. He looked embarrassed, like he wanted to hide.

Your fingers danced over his cheek and his eyes fluttered closed at the tenderness. The crew watched on with pride and varying degrees of bashfulness.

Mark opened his eyes and stared at you pleadingly as orbs of tears flowed from their corners. "Y/N... Please..." He whispered.

You didn't hesitate for a second.

You grabbed the sides of Mark's face and smashed your lips against his. So soft... your hands are so soft and your lips are trembling. The heat of your skin, the scent of your hair. It was even better than he remembered. He couldn't breathe, he could barely even think. He wanted so desperately to kiss you back, to fall into your embrace until there's no space left between, but his ribs hurt like hell and his suit was in the way. Mark whimpered as your fingers tangled into his hair. Fuck. Fuck. 'Everything hurts baby, please don't stop kissing me,' he pleaded in his head. 'Don't stop.'

When you started pulling away, he reached out to pull you closer again, but winced when he moved his arm.

"Slow down, baby." You breathed and pressed a little smooch to his forehead.

"Alright love birds, I need to get Iron Man over here to sick bay."

"But-" Watney protested.

"No buts, you need an X-ray and a shower. Maybe three." Beck laughed.

Mark looked at you pleadingly and you caressed his face. "I'll be by once Beck fixes you up. I gotta help check the ship for damage. Okay?"

He nodded and smiled. "Don't miss me too much~"

"You seek the impossible, Watney." You kissed his forehead again and let Chris lead your Martian down the hall to his quarters.

"Wow," Martinez said "I can't decide if that was incredibly romantic or incredibly awkward."

"Shut up Martinez," You playfully shoved his shoulder.

"Honestly though, he smells terrible! You've got some nerves of steel, Y/L/N," Johanssen joked.

"My boyfriend just spent eighteen months alone on a remote planet, If he wants a kiss he's gonna get that goddamned kiss. Definitely not a quick one and definitely not a half-assed one. But I will say one thing," you grinned.

"What's that?" Lewis smirked.

"He's not getting another one until he brushes his teeth."

~~~

Mark settled into his bunk after what felt like hours. He finally had a bath. Five, in fact. The showers were on a timer to conserve water. He had to run that timer five times before he finally felt clean. The water hurt the sores on his skin, but he felt so much better afterward that he almost wanted to go in for a sixth one. Mark brushed his teeth about three times and got rid of all the tangles in his hair. He'd need someone to touch up the cutting job he did. Now that it was all brushed out, it looked astoundingly bad.

After his long grooming session, Beck took an X-ray and determined that he'd broken two ribs. Chris bandaged him up, gave him some pain medicine, made him eat, and sent him to bed for some well deserved rest. At first, Mark protested. He hated the idea of everyone else fixing the ship while their lead engineer was taking a nap. But he was painfully tired and painfully...well... in pain.

Hey! His bunk didn't smell like shit! That's a huge upgrade from his bunk in the Hab- no more thinking about that place.

With a deep groan, Watney eased himself into bed. Weird...his sheets smelled like you. He didn't mind of course, you always smelled nice. He had never been more thankful for the centripetal force spinning the ship. He would have hated having broken ribs in zero g's. He imagined trying to sleep with his body constantly moving ever so slightly. Sounded like hell to him.

Mark wondered what the others were doing. He hoped there wasn't something too terribly wrong with the ship. The subtle groans of metal didn't ease his nerves. He was never scared of the Hermes before, but he was just now coming to terms with that fact that the ship had taken some serious abuse over the past few months, not to mention the past few hours. Normally Hermes would undergo maintenance after each mission, but because they turned around to get him that maintenance was scrapped.

New fear unlocked: Dooming his team to die in space because they had to turn around and get him.

He almost thought the knocking on his door was the hull breaking apart into a billion little bite-sized pieces.

"Come in," he said.

He expected it to be Beck checking in on him, but he was relieved when you poked your head in with a shy smile.

"Heyyyy, look over there! It's the world's handsomest boyfriend!" You said with gusto.

"You are such a kiss ass," Mark laughed, which hurt his ribs, which made him laugh again from how pitiful he must look.

You scoffed as you stepped into his quarters, shutting the door behind you. "You calling me a liar?" you grabbed a loose storage box and used it as a chair so you could sit beside his bed.

"That's exactly what I'm calling you," he smirked. "Seriously. Have you seen me lately? I look like a... a popsicle stick with a bad haircut."

You looked him up and down. His sores looked a lot better after cleaning them. You had no doubt they would heal nicely. The malnourishment on the other hand... That might take some work. You and Beck already had a few dietary plans for him. You discussed it while you reorganized the chow hall. Still, Mark was the most beautiful person you had ever seen. Even now, those alluring blue eyes were mesmerizing you. And let's not forget that goddamned tantalizing smile.

"I'm looking at you right now, babe," You giggled.

"And?"

"You're still as gorgeous as ever. Just a gorgeous man who's been through some shit," you carded your fingers through his hair. Mark hummed and closed his eyes. "How are you feeling?" you whispered.

"Physically or emotionally?"

"Both."

"Emotionally, happy. Very happy. Best day of my life kind of happy," he smiled. "Physically, pretty shitty. The medicine hasn't kicked in."

"Anything I can do to help you feel better?" you asked warmly.

Watney sent you a smug look, "Oh, I can think of a few things that might help~"

"Not until your ribs are healed."

"Damn."

You leaned down and pushed his hair back so you could kiss his forehead. He gave you a dazed grin, "oh, what do you know? I feel better already," he whispered in a gravelly voice. "... I really missed you..."

"I missed you too Mark..."

"I can't believe I can... I can feel you again. I can hear you and see you and feel you... s'insane..." He reached up and cupped your cheek despite the pain. "You were always on my mind. I-I just really wanted... I wanted to make it back to you." He brought his thumb just under your eye to catch a stray tear.

You covered his hand with yours and pressed a kiss to his palm.

"I-I don't even know what to say... I've been feeling so much, I don't know how to... how to-" He swallowed hard.

"Everything's changed so fast," you reassured him. "But we aren't on the messaging system anymore. It's a long journey home, we have plenty of time to find the right words," you continued to run your fingers into his hair.

"I fucking love you... " he closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of your nails against his scalp. "I'm gonna marry you one day, decided just now."

"Just now?" You snickered.

"No...Realistically, it was the first night we uh... slept together. Do you remember that?" Watney chuckled.

"Of course I do," you smiled, thinking of his messy blonde hair, searing gaze, and strong arms. He took his time with you that night, unhurried, attentive, and unabashedly vocal. "How could I forget?"

Mark shook his head and looked away to hide his blush, but not even his smile could distract you from it. "Sorry, sorry. Go on, continue!"

"Well, I uh..." He let out a sheepish chuckle. "Obviously every part of that night was perfect, but it's what happened after that really changed things."

"Oh?" you leaned closer, curiosity getting the better of you.

"You let me be the little spoon. I'm fine with being the big spoon most of the time, but you gotta be the little spoon sometimes, you know? No one ever let me be the little spoon before you... And when I woke up, you were still holding me." His fingertips danced down your arm, leaving a trail of chills in their wake. Once he reached your hand, Mark intertwined your fingers. It wasn't a conscious movement for him, simply muscle memory. But you couldn't keep your mind off of it. "I know I goof around a lot, but I can't stress how serious I'm being when I say... I have never felt that loved before. It was just... such a perfect night. I knew that you were the one for me well before, but that was the first time I really saw my future flash before my eyes like that."

Your eyes stung a little as you tenderly kissed his lips. "Want to know when I decided?" you whispered against him.

"Please..." He whispered back.

"Remember when I had that terrible flu during the first year of our training program?"

"Oh damn, yeah I do! You looked terrible, baby." Mark teased.

"I felt terrible. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and I definitely couldn't go to lectures... I was so worried about missing, even though the professors agreed there was no way I could come to class. You brought me a copy of your notes. The copy machine in the library was down, so you had to write them by hand... you even filled them with these horrible stick figure drawings," you laughed and Mark brought your knuckles to his lips and watched you, immersed in the sound of your voice. It was like he was trying to commit you to memory. You were doing much the same.

"Anyway, you stayed with me and you made some Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. You stopped by everyday until I got better."

"We were just friends back then," he whispered against your hand.

"I know, but every time I think about how much I love you... that memory comes back, playing on repeat."

"Say that again."

"That again," you smirked. Mark gave you a sassy eyebrow. "Which part babe?" you laughed.

"The uh..." he trailed off.

You lightly kissed his cheek, "I love you, Mark... I love you so much." You peppered his face with little smooches. When you finally pulled back, he was all red again and teary eyed.

"I love you too, Y/N," He whispered. You sat together in silence for awhile before Mark suddenly remembered something extremely important! "Oh shit! I almost forgot!" He winced as he reached into his pocket. "Happy late four year anniversary!" He finally presented you with his gift.

Your fingers trembled as you took the little rock into your hands. Mark's Martian heart stared back up at you, dusting your palm orange.

"Y-you remembered our anniversary?"

"Of course I remembered! Have I ever forgotten before?" Mark smirked.

"N-no, but..." You couldn't help it, you were crying again god dammit. "Thank you Mark, I love it." You beamed and kissed him so hard he lost his entire train of thought. He sighed and pulled you closer like he had wanted to do hours ago. Fuck. There you go again, playing with his hair like it wasn't going to rile him up. He moaned and reached for your waist, only to be pulled swiftly back to reality by the jarring pain in his abdomen. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Mark." You pulled away quickly.

"It wasn't you, I was getting too carried away." He winced and took a deep breath. "My bad," Watney laughed.

You sat down on the crate beside his bed and settled for playing with his hand. While you took inventory of every new callus, Mark once again saw his future flash right before his eyes. You and him and that little house with the green shutters. He's gonna have the best garden in the neighborhood, you'll have all the time in the world for reading. No potatoes. No disco.

"Y/N... Can you hold me?"

"Oh baby, I would love to but the beds are so small-"

"Ouch, oof, oh! ow!" He scooted closer to the wall to make room for you.

You sighed and shook your head. "Mark, your ribs-"

"Please..." he whispered. Dammit! What are you supposed to do when he gives you the puppy eyes!? Beck is going to kill you...

"I can't ever say no to you, can I?" You laughed and scooted into the bed. "Seriously, you've got me wrapped around your finger."

Mark smiled as you tucked yourself into his side. He wanted to be the little spoon, but he couldn't turn over so his back was against your chest. He'd just have to heal quickly, then he could freely snuggle, (and do other things) without any constraints!

He turned his head so he could admire your lovely, beautiful face. You were already looking back at him, one hand holding your rock close to your chest, the other was draped carefully over his waist. Mark swears he's never seen anything more breathtaking in his life.

He slowly leaned closer- Fuck! His ribs hurt so bad, where the hell is the Vicodin when you need it?

You gently smoothed out the crease between his brows with your thumb and pushed his hair back again. Mark closed his eyes, succumbing to the bliss that came with knowing he would never be alone again. You kissed him again and pulled his blanket over the both of you.

"I love you, Mark."

"I love you too."

He felt your hand slip under his shirt and onto his stomach. You drew soft shapes onto his skin, but stopped when you felt the scar just above the hem of his pants. It was jagged and angry.

He swallowed.

Much to his surprise and relief, you didn't pull your hand away. You just kept tracing the new territory.

He sighed and kissed your temple. His body shuddered in relief. "Th-this isn't a dream, right? You'll still be here when I wake up?" he whispered.

You peeked your head up and smiled "I'm not going anywhere, I'm afraid you're stuck with me." You leaned in and gave him one more kiss. He smiled into it and finally allowed himself to rest his eyes.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Y/L/N..."

#mark watney #watney #Mark Watney x reader #The Martian x reader #x reader #reader fanfiction #reader insert #the martian #watney x reader #mark watney fanfiction #mark watney / reader #watney/reader

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androgynousblackbox · 6 months

Text

How I Met Your Father. 3 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

A03 link

"Ssssoo, let me get this sstraight" started out Sir Pentious, their newest resident at the hotel, after taking a zip from the glass that Husk had just served him at the bar. "You mean to tell me that Alassstor, one of my oldest archnemessis, actually had a daughter all along. Who wass the princess of hell. Because he wass married all along to Lucifer and nobody knew about it. And that iss why he iss here at the hotel."

"Yeah, pretty much you got it" confirmed Husk, serving a new martini for Angel.

"And when I ssigned to sstay here, I alsso signed away any chance to ever tell it to anyone because no one should know for ssome reasson" added the snake man, trying to digest that information. Now it made sense why Charlie had insisted on the "not talk about my family outside of his hotel, I am sorry, please, I tried to change it but now I can't, just please don't do it" when he had the contract in front of him.

"Or you lose the ability to speak, text, corse mode or whatever else ever again" confirmed Angel. "Kinda paranoid if you ask me, but what are you gonna do? Still beats paying rent."

Sir Pentious looked pensative, lost in thought. After a while he finally reached to the one true question he wanted to ask.

"How?"

"How what?" Husk took a drink from his own bottle.

"I mean, that guy?" Sir Pentious turned around to see Alastor on the opposite side of the living room, taking a cup of coffee while gently moving his feet at the tune playing on the radio at his side. If it wasn't for the shadows dancing all around his little corner with cruel mocking smiles it could have been a peaceful picture. He quickly turned again when he could feel some of the shadows looking at him back. "Am I the only one who doessn't undersstand how he landed with Lucifer of all people? Nobody hass sseen the king in agess. I even heard rumorss of people thinking he had died yearss ago."

"Mmm, you know, that is not a bad question" Angel looked over to Husk. "Any input from your side, kitty?"

"Call me kitty again and see what happens" grumbled Husk, with a frown.

"Fine, fine. For the sake of science. Husk. Would you mind sharing the tea of what the fuck is up with smiley face?"

"You think I have a fucking clue of what that guy does or doesn't do? I have none" Husk also threw a glare to the corner of Alastor, that of course Alastor immediately returned with a friendly wave. Fucking bastard. "One day he called me over to bartend on some bullshit dance club he had set up in the palace with a new ring on his finger and saying he wanted to dance with his husband. When I asked what the hell was he talking about, he quite literally told me to mind my own business. I thought he had finally lost his god damn mind until I saw Lucifer appear with him using a matching ring. Next thing I know he is summoning me again to take care of a toddler he had apparently made so they could go on a date. Not a single explanation of where that toddler even came from, how it happened or why was he even calling me. Do I even look like a fucking babysitter?"

"You do look soft and huggable" commented Angel, looking him down and up. The comment, for once, didn't even seem to have a sexual innuendo, just a mere observation. "I can see kids liking that."

Husk rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. The point I was trying to get at, I am just as clueless as everyone else. I asked Charlie once if she knew how her parents met and she just said that I should ask them, because she thinks they tell the story so much better."

"But there is a story" Angel smiled, swiveling from side to side on his chair. "Oh, I bet it involves a dungeon somewhere. Can you imagine that is how they met? The king with a secret taste for BDSM finding his match there? Being the king has to create such a great pressure. Lots of powerful people relax with a good beating at the hands of someone else. I can see something like that happening. And wouldn't you know it, our smiley friends loves to give a good beating too. Now that would be a good movie I would watch."

Husk stared at him like he, too, had lost his entire mind. Then he seemed to think better about it and reclined on the bar. Truth be told, it was also the first time he got to talk about this with someone else since Alastor had also put the same condition of silence on him and Niffty.

"No, no, you know what? I bet there was some kind of contract involved. I just don't buy that guy getting romantic with anyone without a motive."

"I concord with Hussk there" added Sir Pentious, nodding. "He just doessn't sstrike me ass the romantic type either. Maybe it wass a form of blackmail over the king? Ssomething to hold againsst him unless he complied?"

"Mmm, that can be hot too" considered Angel. "But having a kid for a blackmail? Kinda extreme, doesn't it? And didn't you just said that they went on dates and what not? Isn't that too much effort for the bit?"

"Anyone can go out in dates with anyone, that doesn't meant that they aren't hiding something" Husk was getting more convinced of his own words the more he spoke. "And listen, you don't know the guy for as long I do. He would do anything to get what he wants. I once saw him devouring a guy just to get his coat. Playing the role of caring hubby just to get something out of it is not really out of the realm of possibilities. And there is a lot to gain from the king of hell himself."

"Jeez, okay, I got it, romance is dead and you killed it" Angel swivelled again, turning around. Charlie now was talking with Alastor about something. All the shadows had dissapeared and it was just the radio demon hanging to her every word. "I am just saying, if that is acting then that is one hell of an actor right there. And I should know as the only one with a job in front of a camera."

"Well, perhapss with Charlie iss different" conceded Sir Pentious. "It's alwayss different when it comes to your own children, I ssuppose."

"I don't know" Husk crossed his arms, trying to think of any sign of Alastor having anything else than affection for his daughter and, if he had to be honest, he was coming out with nothing. But that could also be entirely an ego thing to preserve his own legacy or something along those lines. "Well, fine, maybe. I still won't believe for a second that Alastor just so happened to end up with Lucifer out of the goodness of his heart. I just would like to know what he did to convince the king to go along with that plan."

"Maybe he is just really good at seduction" offered Angel. "And the king was so lonely, with his million of bucks in that huge empty castle and no one to share it with. Damn, I can almost see it. Smiley coming up with all the aces under his sleeves and charming him to his feet. The poor guy didn't stand a chance."

"For the guy who invented temptation? You think he would be that desperate?"

"Hell yeah, why not? I have seen uglier people pocketting hotter partners all the time. Charm and the right words will get you very far, Husky. Which reminds me to ask you, is Lucifer hot? I always pictured him with this massive and thick bulg…"

"Charlie, dear!" Sir Pentious said it louder than neccesary for the two of them to drop the subject already as the princess was approaching them. Alastor himself was nowhere to be seen. "We were jusst talking… about…"

"My favorite dildo broke and I got to buy a new one. Sad hours here."

Husk lifted both his hands in a clear request to know why the hell was Angel like that, while Sir Pentious looked about ready to offer himself to the exorcists. Angel shrugged in response. It was the very first thing that came to his mind. Charlie froze a moment in place, blushing before she regained her train of thought.

"Oh, well. For as fascinating of a topic that is, um, I was thinking that for the next exercise we could all get around in a circle tonight and talk about a happy memory that we all have!"

"That ssoundss like a lovely idea, dear."

"Whatever you say, princess."

Husk thought about it before answering.

"Is Alastor going to participate?"

"Yes, of course! I just told him about it and he is excited too."

Knowing the princess, that "excited" very well could have been polite interest.

"Mmm, you know what I was thinking, kiddo? When you were little, you always said that he was so good telling stories. I myself am not the best storyteller unfortunately. Why don't you get him to tell one of those stories for us? Maybe of how your parents end up together or something uplifting like that. To get us all in the best mood."

Charlie gasped loudly, clapping his hands against her cheeks.

"That is an amazing idea, uncle! I know everyone will love that! I will go tell him that right now!"

The moment the princess went up the stairs, probably to look for the demon back at his studio, Angel raised his glass to Husk.

"Master of subtlety, aren't ya?"

"Hey, I had to try at least once" He wasn't exactly happy for using the trust of Charlie on him like that, but he had spent decades wondering too much and wasn't going to spoil a chance when it presented itself to him. "I doubt that Alastor is going to even tell the truth with her in the room, but at least I will know what he told her about it."

"That iss besst than nothing, I guess" Sir Pentious sighed. "Do you all realizze that meanss Alasstor iss technically the king of hell too? And he jusst… doesn't do anything about it? The more I think about it, the weirder it getss."

"I am telling you, he is getting his kicks beating the king and enjoying that money. I am no sadist myself, but if the price is right I will make an exception."

Sir Pentious finished his drink and looked at his glass, as if looking the courage to say what was on his mind.

"Wanna bet?"

"Fuck yeah, bitch. How much?"

"What part of he is probably not going to say the truth in front of Charlie did not register? No kid wants to hear that their parents are together out of convenience and Alastor is not stupid enough to not know that."

"Oh, come on, whiskers, at least we can have some fun about it. Even among the bullshit we could find something true."

"You haven't seen the layers of bullshit Alastor is on."

"Hey, if you are too scared to even play, I get it. Pussy" Angel pronnounced the word like a kiss, with a smile.

Husk looked at him. Quickly, as if taking out a gun in a shooting, he took out his wallet. Oh, he would be damned if someone suggested he was too scared to play. His old pride as a gambling overlord was on the line.

"I bet you it's a completely bullshit made up story about being a meet cute, just to please Charlie."

"Now we are talking! I bet that Alastor will talk about having "especial interests" together and finding "mutual satisfaction" in each other."

"I bet itss going to involve Alasstor being the one with the initiative and the main driving force!"

Established the rates in, Husk set up the betting money on a little safe that he never used because nobody ever paid for their drinks there. All they had left to do was wait.

At the afternoon, they were surprised to find Alastor already sat on the couch. That alone wasn't surprising, but it was the white snake wrapped around his neck that Charlie reacted with absolute delight upon seeing it.

"Aww! And what is this doing here?" cooed, going up to the couch as the snake extended to her through Alastor's shoulder, flicking it's slitted tongue against her cheek and then it's head against her.

"Oh, this? Just a little snack for later that I found in the backyard" answered Alastor, his smile only growing bigger when the snake flicked it's tail to him, clearly pissed.

"Noooo, don't eat the little guy!" said Charlie, for some reason laughing to herself as she petted the white head, which seemed to instantly calm him down. "He is being so good right now, be nice, dad."

"Oh, well, I will consider it just because you ask, dear" Alastor chuckled, gently scratching under the chin of the snake with his claws. "After all, he is quite a lovely specimen, isn't he?"

It sounded like his words were more directed at the animal than to Charlie. The snake made a huffing motion, but end returning to wrap around Alastor's neck and settled himself there. When everyone else gathered around, Alastor accomodated on his seat petting the snake absentmindedly, letting his fingers run through the white body that looked perfectly relaxed on his place.

Charlie, in the other hand, turned to a confused Vaggie and whispered something on her ear that made her let out a silent oh. She smiled and gave a small head nod to the snake, that perked up upon seeing her, flickering his tongue.

Weird, but nobody really felt like questioning too much. After seeing a demon pulled out tentacles, shadows, musical instruments and other things out of mid air without making any effort, it was easy to just accept another oddity. At least this one wasn't deadly.

"Alright, everyone, thanks for coming!" started Charlie, as it was usual for all her bonding exercises. "Some of you have been very brave coming out today and we are so proud of you!" Charlie smiled in direction to Alastor, where the tail of the snake waggled against his coat. "As you all know, I wanted us to share a happy memory of each of us. It can be anything that you want as long it's something that makes you smile when you think about it. Does anyone want to be first? Angel?" asked when he saw the spider demon raising his hand.

Husk rolled his eyes, preparing himself to hear something about drugs or sex, probably both at the same time. Sir Pentious looked at the ceiling, brazing himself.

"One time I lost Fat Nuggets on the mall" started Angel. "I was like crazy looking for him everywhere. After a while I saw that he was waiting for me in the entrance with my phone in his mouth. I had been so focused in finding him, that I haven't even notice at all I had lost my phone even before coming in. It almost made me shit my pants, but it was also nice to see how smart he is."

The room stayed silent for a full second, everyone staring at him as if waiting for the punchline to drop. Angel laughed.

"What? I mean, if you are all dying to hear the more spicier memories then you can just ask! I have so many I wouldn't know which one to choose from! I could tell you about this time I…"

There it was.

"No, no, thank you, it's okay!" Charlie quickly interjected it. "Thank you, Angel, that was really lovely! Who is next?"

Sir Pentious shared a memory of finishing his first weapon of destruction after weeks of trying it out. The fact that it had destroyed the building he was in rather than the target didn't mattered at all to him, because at last it was doing something destructive at least. Vaggie talked about her first date with Charlie, in which she got to see a movie for the first time in her life and later have pizza at Charlie's apartment. They did nothing else that day and it was still the best day she could have wished. The simple retelling brighten up Charlie's face.

Her own happy memory was visiting Lu Lu World for the first time with her parents. She throw up three times, one for excitement and the other two for going to the roller coasters despite dad's warning. Her parents argued about letting her eat too much. But she always remembered when the night came and Lucifer taught her how to make fireworks out of her own hands, while Alastor looked up from the ground.

When everyone quietly decided to move on from the happy memory of Niffty that included a rusty knife and a kneecap she got to keep, Charlie turned to Alastor.

"Dad, your turn. Please?" asked, making the puppy eyes that she knew neither of her parents could resist for long.

"Alright, alright" Alastor sighed as if fighting a great resistance. "Per request of my little fawn, I guess I have no option but to bring up the time I met her father as my happy memory. Charlie heard this so many times that she must be sick and tired of it" added with a grin, seeing Charlie grab onto her crossed legs sat on the floor, exactly as when she was a kid about to hear it for the first time.

The ears of Husk perked, even though nothing on his whole posture changed. By now his biggest concern was to win the bet than to try to decipher how much Alastor was about to lie through his yellow teeth.

"Well, as you all must be aware of by now, my husband is the king of all hell and also a very private person" started the man, caressing the white snake that lifted his head to nuzzle his cheek. "So naturally he needed guards to keep the defenses up of his castle and keep anyone out. But not just about any sinner would do, no. I applied for the job out of mere and pure curiosity. How was our invisible king going to be? Was he going to be a monster worthy of hell, a nightmare I couldn't even begin to understand, or the pure image born out of heaven that he was originally? Maybe a combination of the two, the meaning of corruption? I just couldn't resist not knowing at all.

At that point my career as an overlord wasn't anything to scuff at. My own power made me thirsty for knowledge, to get where not any other sinner had been before. The king Asmodeus was the one to see all the candidates. He, as a close friend to the king and concerned for his wellbeing, wanted to garanteed that the peace of the king would not be disturbed by having the most capable

So naturally he made us all fight in an arena to see by himself who among us were the strongest. I could go on about all the gorey details of what I did with those sinner, but my little fawn is not a fan, so I will skip those for now. Unfortunately I got a little carried away myself, so there was no viable coworkers for me to share the position with by the time I was done. There were also no witnesses left. Truly tragic.

As soon Asmodeus saw I was clearly the superior choice, that is when I got installed in the palace to do my job.

As it turns out, the king of hell was so busy with his own royal issues that I didn't get to see him at all during my first week. Not the second. On the third I was already considering this could have been a huge waste of my time when I heard a melody from the garden. There, over the fountain, our dear beloved king was playing the violin over the waters.

He was certainly not a nightmare, nor a monster. A heaven dream they failed to appreciate and now was the ruler of his own kingdom, playing on his garden for no one. I let him finish the piece before talking. He knew about me and my face, of course. He first apologized profusely because of what Asmodeus had done "forcing me" to fight like that. He only had accepted that deal in the first place just for the peace of his friend, not his.

I told him, clear and direct, that I am only sorry I wasn't given more bodies to dispatch of. He just told me ah, so you are that kind of sinner. I should have known. He wasn't surprised or disgusted, neither ectatic and jumping in giddiness. The king of hell had seen every atrocity made by men since creation and their wickedness hold no wonder for him. It just was, the same way that the sky down here is red. No need to justify it or ponder too much about it.

I found it… refreshing, in a way. Living in hell, you would think people would be less squeamish and afraid of some dark humor, but you would be wrong. The lack of judgement from the one who was judged the harder made it so much easier to be at ease on his presence. From that day forward, seeing as he couldn't keep pretending that I wasn't there, we started having dinner together. At first our alimentary preferences were a bit of a struggle to get through. He insisted on putting sugar on almost everything he touched. I liked my meals as raw and bloody, a little decayed for extra flavor, which he didn't appreciate particularly when flies started appearing.

More than one time I considered quitting. More than one time he threatened with kicking me out. But for whatever reason, there was never enough conviction to do anything else but keep our distance for a day or two, until we ended up in the same table again. Little by little I started cooking some of my meals and he stopped trying to give me sweets all the time. Our chairs were getting closer so we could hear each other better. He talked to me about his interest or hobbies with no filter, even when I didn't want to hear, like he haven't had anyone to do that with in a long time.

It was a comfortable routine, and before I knew it, an entire year had already passed. I learned about what being a king entailed and whatever ambitions I had about it were very quickly squandered. Charlie, I am sorry, but it's literally the most boring job you will ever have. Endless paperwork, dealing with the whinning of all the rings, even more paperwork, taxes because this is hell, of course, and, in a shocking twist of event, more paperwork to go through. I did always tried my best to distract the king when I could so he wouldn't drown himself on that side of his job and I myself wouldn't die of boredom.

But going out was difficult for him, so I would do things like setting a fake jazz club in the party room so he would get that experience I quite enjoyed myself. Our Majesty wasn't only a enthusiastic lover of music, he also had the lightest feet on the floor I had ever seen. He could pick up the rythm almost instantly and follow along.

On that first date, we may have been carried away with our drinks. Particularly me, regrettably, because as it turns out, it takes a lot more than what a mortal soul can take to get the devil actually wasted. I don't even remember what I said or in what tone, or even how Lucifer responded at any of it, but at the next morning I knew that something had changed in our dynamic. A touch of hands that went a bit longer than ever before. A gaze that never wanted to quit. A smile without any apparent reason. We end spending almost all day just in the presence of each other. When we didn't, we still looked for each other.

How can you be surprised when inevitably things go even further? How can you be shocked when you see your king at the end of the hallway and think "ah, that is right. That is the man I will end up spending eternity with"? Lucifer proposed first only because I couldn't find the most appropiate ring before him."

At that point Alastor took out the glove that used only on one hand, revealing a golden ring in his finger.

"Pure magic in solid form. That is when I found out that rings given by the king of hell himself can't be taken out. The only exception being in case of a divorce or death. Not that I was planning to do either, but it kinda made it hard to try to not advertise our relationship everytime I came out the palace. Hence the glove that I only got to take out once I am back home. And now here, since I know none of you will speak about it.

That is how I married the father of my future little fawn."

Charlie chocked up a little, barely containing a few tears that escaped her eyes, and she got up the floor to go hug her, kissing the little snake too. Vaggie discretly cleaned up her eyes as well, ignoring the snore coming from a pass out Niffty. Not enough violence for her to be entertained.

Charlie declared the whole experience a resounding success. Alastor stand up to announce he would be going to his designated room now. Husk followed up his steps up the stairs until he heard a door closing after him.

Vaggie encommended Husk to take out Niffty to her own room so she could sleep properly, before taking out a still emotional Charlie to their room. The princess of hell wished everyone a good night and they responded in kind. As soon they were both out of earshot, the remaining three sinner gather.

"Bullshit" declared Husk. "Absolute fucking bullshit. Every single word of it. I fucking knew it. I remember the jazz club thing and he had the fucking ring on already. He knows I know it too. Lying piece of shit."

"Yeah, I was about to say, that also sounded weird to me" Angel crossed his lower arms, while the upper ones brushed his hair back. "That is weird, isn't it? Why lie about that?"

"To piss me off, obviously." As soon he said it, Husk just knew that it was true and glared to the door that Alastor had used. "He is literally just playing now. Oh, I bet that fucker is having just the biggest laugh at my expense."

"That wassn't a ssnake either" commented Sir Pentious suddenly, making the other two to stare at him. "Ssnakes aren't that physsically affectionate or even like continuous physsical contact like that. At mosst they tolerate it."

"Speaking from experience?" Angel arqued an eyebrow.

"Excusse you, but I am a man firsst! And for you information, no. I just read about it" clarified Pentious, so absolutely confident on his word that neither of them doubted that he was lying. Seemingly realizing that, he blushed. "I-in any casse, how are we going to decide who won the bet?"

At the other side of the door, Alastor couldn't help himself and let out a low chuckle. Lucifer could feel the vibrations through his entire scaly body.

"What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, my love. I was just thinking of an old joke that suddenly sprung to mind."

"Right." Lucifer already knew better than to believe that, but with Alastor frankly anything could be cause for his laughter. "Can I get my hat back? I feel naked without it."

"You are naked, darling." Nonetheless, Alastor did took out the little hat from his pocket and put it on the head of the snake over his shoulder.

"Yes, but now I feel better" Lucifer sighed, lowering his head to rest against the rest of his body, looking around the hallways as Alastor kept walking. "It's not as awful as I imagined."

"Did you strain a muscle reaching for that compliment?"

"Fine, it's disgusting. Has anyone ever told you that other colors beside red exist? Happy now?"

"Appreciate the honesty."

Lucifer rolled his eyes, reaching out to lay on top of Alastor's head between his antlers. He waited until they reached the room designated for Alastor before he jumped in the air, turning into his humanoid form with a red poof.

He smiled a little when seeing that the bed was just as big as their bed in the palace. They had agreed that he would try to spend one night there before making an "official" visit and deciding to stay with the rest of his family. That would be easier than opening up and closing portals from their home to the hotel.

"How are you doing, darling?" asked Alastor, sitting on the bed and patting the space at his side for Lucifer.

"For now it's fine" Lucifer leaned his head against his husband's shoulder and closed his eyes for a moment. He masticated the sorry that wanted to come out of his mouth. Saying sorry for being an anxious mess every time he was outside his palace didn't fix anything. "It's so much easier in animal form. I don't know why."

"I don't mind either way." commented Alastor, slipping a hand between them to rub his back in big circles. "Today you made our daughter happy just being here."

Lucifer smiled, hugging him by the side, holding Alastor by his shoulder.

"I still kinda feel bad we have to lie to her about… you know, that."

"It was your idea."

"Yeah, because I am not proud of it. Doesn't mean I have to like it" Lucifer sighed, letting himself fell to the bed, just dreading what kind of conversation that would be in front of their daughter. "Hey, sweetheart, that cute story we told you since you were born about your dad being a guard and we slowly falling in love was a total fiasco. Yeah, in reality what we actually did was the equivalent of marrying drunk in Las Vegas during a bender. So romantic, huh?"

"Technically speaking you were the drunk one, not me" pointed out Alastor with a chuckle, kissing his cheek as he lat on his side to brush his hair. "I was just minding my own business when suddenly I was teleported to the palace with a ring on my finger. Not even a dinner date."

"I know" groaned Lucifer, turning in the bed to faceplant the mattress. His voice came out muffled against the covers. "That was the most embarrassing shit ever."

"Mmm" Alastor nuzzled his nape, breathing in the scent of his hair for a moment, before he kissed again his neck. "I don't regret anything about how things went."

"Of course you wouldn't." Lucifer rolled his head to look at him. He didn't regret it either, truth be told. He just wished it could have been something to remember fondly, from the start to today, instead of a gradual shift that started on the worst feet possible. "Your story is still so much cooler."

"Considering most of it was improvised on the spot and then I had to remember the details for later, thank you." Alastor stand out to change clothing and bring something for Lucifer, since he really didn't have anything for himself.

In the end he gave him a plain white t-shirt that was still too big for his body and some gym pants that were also too long, almost completely covering his hooves, but at least could be adjusted on the hip so they wouldn't fall out.

"How would you tell it?" asked suddenly Lucifer when Alastor was about to turn the lights off.

"To Charlie?"

"Not necessarily. Just about in general."

Alastor tilted his head, furrowing his brow.

"Do you want me to tell you the story of how we met?"

Lucifer smiled, making the puppy eyes that so many times had condemned the both of them when coming from their daughter.

"Pretty please? You are seriously so good at it. Maybe it will sound less bad if it comes from you."

Alastor thought about it for a moment and then sighed. Flattery did go a long way with him, naturally Lucifer would know that already.

"Sure" said through a yawn, turning the light and getting into bed. Lucifer went to accomodate on his back, his white arms wrapping around his waist, as if refusing to lose their contact. "But tomorrow when we are at our own home, darling. I think that would be the best."

He was tired and wanted to sleep. But more than anything, he didn't want to risk Lucifer having an episode in the middle of it.

"If you need to go back to the palace at any moment, wake me up and tell me" Alastor turned his head all the way to kiss his forehead. Lucifer corresponded by hugging him just a bit closer, nuzzling his back.

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you too, dear."

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dufferpuffer · 5 months

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First of all, I need to express my love for you and how grateful I am for your deep understanding of Lupin and Snape's characters. You're the first person I see that loves them both while also acknowledging their flaws and not trying to sugarcoat Lupin's toxicity (again, thank you)

Secondly, it is because of your great comprehension towards them that I'd like to see your opinion on this. We don't talk enough about Lupin's shitty and completely uncalled for behaviour towards Snape during PoA (and just how well Snape handles it, because God knows most people would have snapped, and he had more reasons than anyone to do so, but only intervened when CHILDREN'S safety was compromised)

What do you think would've happened in a world where, instead of taking Lupin's bullying and mocking during PoA, he returns it just as smoothly and doesn't just let the man walk over him? What of an alternative universe where Snape just says "you know what? Fuck it, I'm a loser but you're no better" and despite still being terrified afraid of Lupin, he also resents him and subtly puts him back in his place every time he pulls the usual shit? (While also keeping his distance because he doesn't want that man anywhere near him)

Would have Lupin gotten angry? Would he get cold feet and keep the distance too because he can't handle Snape actually fighting back? Would this turn into a toxic asf enemies to lovers dynamic with all the passive-agressive exchanges, backhanded compliments and constant fight for dominance in the situation?

Seriously, love your blog 💕 Hope you're well and thriving

Thankyou for the love :') I love the boys, and without their complex layers of toxicity and trauma the boys just wouldn't be The Boys anymore. Lupin's softness is nothing without his sharp edges after all. Its been awhile since I read PoA. Its the next one i'm reading to my boyfriend. But this is a really interesting fic idea!!! Such a small change - but potential big consequences...? Remus is a coward, but in PoA he was spoiled with getting his own way - and things generally went really well for him. I flicked through some of the chapters where they interact, so this isn't perfect - but what if Snape did snap back every time Remus tried to press him...? He was told to keep the werewolf's secret - not to allow himself to be bullied again. ((This this turned into a looooong look into their dynamic. Oopsy.))

Remus Lupin and the Nasty Man who Wont Let Things be Easy for Him

Chapter 7,

Remus arrives ~fashionably late~ to class so he can surprise the kids: 'only bring your wands (no lame textbooks) for a practical.' He is confident, a little playful - dealing with Peeves effortlessly. (His father specialized in things like poltergeists and boggarts, after all.) The kids think he is cool! He already knows all their names! He is glowing with pride just to be there. So adorable I love him. He has 100% been bouncing on his heels with nerves and excitement to teach this lesson. There is no way he was ACTUALLY late - he just wanted to appear aloof.

He wants to be cool - and fun - and comforting - and safe: Why else have the first lesson be getting the kids to face the scariest thing they can imagine under HIS warm protection...? Albus is definitely his role model - they have the same manipulation tactics. Very different to Snapes 'get it right or else' lesson beforehand. He is safe. He is SO safe. He is The Safest Man. He's learned all their names already, isn't that nice of him?? Now he can learn all their fears, too - and he can soothe them!!! How well planned, Mr Lupin… Warm, soft, fluffy Mr. Lupin. So capable and so sweet… He could NEVER be a monster! Nobody will EVER suspect he is a monster...

As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, ‘Leave it open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness this.’ He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, ‘Possibly no one’s warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear.’ Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers. Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows. ‘I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation,’ he said, ‘and I am sure he will perform it admirably.’ Neville’s face went, if possible, even redder. Snape’s lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

Though Snape was still being nasty about the previous lesson - this was a HELPFUL comment more than it was a jeer at Neville. He almost didn't say anything at all - but turned on his heel at the last second. He knows Remus was irresponsible with danger in his youth and is new to teaching. So he gives him a tip: 'Longbottom is difficult to manage. Granger is capable and trustworthy. Pair them together if you must.'

...Honestly he was basically setting Lupin up to look good. Anything Remus said would have seemed lovely, even a terse "Yes, well, thankyou Professor. We will see about that." ...But Lupin politely and confidently spat back. Always politely. He wasn't rude to Snape, but the meaning was clear: 'Back off, Severus. I decide what my students can handle.'

Snape's lip curled. (That's his version of a sneering little smile) 'Oh yeah? Good luck with that.' The amount of body language these men talk through, both masters of hiding their intentions and emotions with masks - they fence with words and actions.

How could Snape snap back without seeming like he was lashing out...? Remus bullies by asserting dominance in a way that makes others seem like they're being mean to gentle widdle Wupin if they retaliate, or are being silly if they defend themselves. Remus is desperate for his students to have confidence in him. To think of him as their sweet savior. To soothe his worries of posing a danger to them, of being rejected, of being suspected…

Snape’s lip curled. "…Then I wish you good luck, Mr. Wolf." he drawled as he left, shutting the door with a snap.

…Maybe that treads the line of what he is allowed to say. Remus would scramble to Dumbledore's office in a panic, to get him to warn Severus not to play silly games... but he would have to do that later, in secret - away from the kids. In the immediate - he would stammer to remind them: "Of course, Lupin means 'Wolf' in French… Snape is just making a little joke!" But god, what a way to knock him off-balance-!

I don't think it will change how the lesson goes. If anything, Lupin will be more keen to push Neville to humiliate Snape via his Boggart. Especially knowing he will soon be seeing Snape's lip curl in triumph as he gets told off by Dumbledore - because Remus snitched. How humiliating, getting a 'teacher' involved. (They're little boys at heart.) There is nothing Snape likes more than humiliating a bully. Every time 'Boggart' is mentioned Snape has the sweet memory of seeing Lupin look so pathetic in-front of Dumbledore, his role model. Every time a kid calls him 'Mr Wolf' as a joke... Remus will have to pretend he 'doesn't mind much', but gently insist they use his real name, please. He will know to tread carefully around Severus.

Chapter 8,

Harry is at a low point emotionally. He is having a good chat with Lupin, who seems to understand him better than other teachers. Though, Lupin is still speaking vaguely, making allusions - much like Dumbledore.

'Sit down,’ said Lupin, taking the lid off a dusty tin. ‘I’ve only got teabags, I’m afraid – but I daresay you’ve had enough of tea leaves?’ Harry looked at him. Lupin’s eyes were twinkling. ‘How did you know about that?’ Harry asked.

If it didn't say 'Lupin' you'd 100% believe Albus said that - complete with twinkling eyes and an awestruck Harry. ((This is making me wanna do a whole thing comparing how Albus and Remus act)) Anyway - In this cozy atmosphere, where Remus is enjoying being the object of Harry's awe, and not telling him he was his parents' close friend...

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ called Lupin. The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing. ‘Ah, Severus,’ said Lupin, smiling. ‘Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?’ Snape set the smoking goblet down, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin. ‘I was just showing Harry my Grindylow,’ said Lupin pleasantly, pointing at the tank. ‘Fascinating,’ said Snape, without looking at it. ‘You should drink that directly, Lupin.’ ‘Yes, yes, I will,’ said Lupin. ‘I made an entire cauldronful,’ Snape continued. ‘If you need more.’ ‘I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.’ ‘Not at all,’ said Snape, but there was a look in his eye Harry didn’t like. He backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful. Harry looked curiously at the goblet. Lupin smiled.

Aka. Severus walks into the beasts den and finds a pup. Have you ever seen Severus act so polite? So appeasing? So... dare I say... submissive? Even Harry knew something was up - worried Snape was acting meek because he was trying to POISON Remus. (Only in his dreams.)

And Remus-! All smiles! Harry is looking into the goblet? SMILE! 'I was showing HARRY, who is here in my office with us RIGHT NOW, my Grindylow! ...Oh, 'my' potion? Yes, yes... how kind. Lovely. Marvelous. Please and Thankyou and GET OUT.' Antsy. On edge. Calm twinkling eyes are now jaw-clenching smiles.

Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face. ‘Disgusting,’ he said. ‘Well, Harry, I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you at the feast later.’

'How lovely Severus is to brew this innocent potion! I shall drink it now! Teehee, its a bit yucky~ Anyway Harry YOU SHOULD LEAVE.'

He just made the boy some tea, ready to have a heart-to-heart... and because Severus came in with his wolfsbane: screaming internally. On any other day, with any other person, Severus would have struck his pitchfork right into his chest and turned him over like hay. They are both defensive here. Cats circling each-other. Severus is SO spooked due to it being close to the Full Moon, entering a private room with Remus - and now having to speak carefully because The Lad is there - he just allows Remus to be the boss 'Yes, sir - on the desk? Of course...' He just wants to leave. No waxing gibbous werewolf temper. Adios.

...What about a Severus that see's Remus' fear of not being in control of the information in the room - of having Harry ask questions? How about he uses his own discomfort to fuel being a little bugger?

‘Come in,’ called Lupin. The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing. ‘Ah, Severus,’ said Lupin, smiling. ‘Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?’ Snape walked up to desk, his eyes curiously wandering between Harry and Lupin. ‘I was just showing Harry my Grindylow,’ said Lupin pleasantly, pointing at the tank. 'Right here would be marvelous.' He patted the the edge of the desk furthest from Harry with his fingertips. ‘...I rather think you should drink it now.’ said Snape, ignoring it completely. ‘Your little chat can wait till you recover, surely.’ ‘Yes, yes, I will-’ Lupin seemed a little flustered. His eyes darted to Harry's, and for a moment he thought he could see fear. Harry's stomach dropped a little as he peered curiously at the goblet. ‘I made an entire cauldronful,’ Snape continued. ‘Since you will be needing more than this for your... particular condition-’ ‘Yes, Thankyou, Severus.' Lupin spoke firmer now, cutting him off. Harry had never seen his gaze look so sharp. 'I'll take more tomorrow, then.’ There was an odd standoff between them. Snape's head tilted as he opened his hand for the goblet, but kept his distance. The edge of Lupin's smile strained for a moment before he tipped the strange, steaming brew back and started to drink. Harry had a mad urge to knock the goblet out of his hands. ‘Ugh... Pity sugar makes it useless...’ he almost choked taking one last hurried gulp, leaning to hand the smoking goblet over. ‘Indeed. A pity.’ said Snape, lip curling into a smug hook. There was a look in his eye Harry didn’t like. 'Potter - I highly recommend you leave the Professor alone now to rest.' He turned sharply, cloak flowing behind him as he left. The smoke left a funny smell in his wake. Harry looked to Lupin. There was so much to say he was tongue tied! Does he warn him that Snape wants his job? Does he ask about the potion? A part of him even wanted to comfort his teacher. Adults didn't usually have this much trouble with Snape... ‘Well, Harry, he is right - I’ve been feeling a bit off-colour recently. I’ll see you at the feast later.’ Lupin stood quickly, gesturing him to leave. ‘...Right,’ said Harry, putting his empty teacup down.

I think, if anything, Harry being there would have made Severus bolder. Remus, at the end of the day, can't bring himself to start fights. To refuse to drink the potion would make him look like a child. Rather than seeming like he has a foot up on Snape he now seems a little... pathetic. Infront of the boy he wanted to impress.

Severus is cornering Remus to drain his confidence. He isn't threatening to out him - but he is speaking as if he might, keeping Remus on his toes while staying completely innocent. He is playing Remus' game against him, and is better at it. He has the advantage of far less to hide - and far less to prove.

Chapter 14,

This is the one where Remus and Snape have their grand sparring match about the Marauders Map, but I wanted to add something to what Snape says to Harry beforehand:

‘What did you say to me, Potter?’ ‘I told you to shut up about my dad!’ Harry yelled. ‘I know the truth, all right? He saved your life! Dumbledore told me! You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my dad!’ Snape’s sallow skin had gone the colour of sour milk. ‘And did the Headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?’ he whispered. ‘Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter’s delicate ears?’ Harry bit his lip. He didn’t know what had happened and didn’t want to admit it – but Snape seemed to have guessed the truth. ‘I would hate you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter,’ he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. ‘Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you – your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn’t got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts.’ Snape’s uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

I think Snape would actually be surprised that Lupin hadn't told Harry anything about his father. That HE had told him more about James than ANYONE else had bothered to! He would have expected Harry would now know all sorts of stories where they humiliated him... Unless maybe that was part of a deal? He doesn't talk about werewolves - Remus doesn't talk about his past...? Regardless - I don't think Snape would think it too revealing to say this:

'I suppose your new favourite teacher's painted a very different image of your father. All the better to win your precious trust.'

I think he would be confused that Harry was confused - before getting him to turn his pockets out. It would plant a seed of doubt in Harry's mind: Lupin was keeping BIG things from him.

He strode across to his fire, seized a fistful of glittering powder from a jar on the fireplace, and threw it into the flames. ‘Lupin!’ Snape called into the fire. ‘I want a word!’ Utterly bewildered, Harry stared at the fire. A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast. Seconds later, Professor Lupin was clambering out of the fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes. ‘You called, Severus?’ said Lupin mildly. ‘I certainly did,’ said Snape, his face contorted with fury as he strode back to his desk. ‘I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this.’ Snape pointed at the parchment, on which the words of Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on Lupin’s face. ‘Well?’ said Snape. Lupin continued to stare at the map. Harry had the impression that Lupin was doing some very quick thinking. ‘Well?’ said Snape again. ‘This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?’ Lupin looked up and, by the merest half glance in Harry’s direction, warned him not to interrupt.

First of all: "A large shape had appeared in it, revolving very fast." Excuse me? 'Revolving very fast?' What direction?? That's fucking hilarious

Severus knows that Lupin made this parchment. He recognized the nicknames. Snape is better with Dark Magic than Lupin, Harry especially suspects Snape is keen on Dark Magic - it is ridiculous to call Lupin there to inspect the map, and everyone knows it. Snape wants to corner Lupin (for once) and get him to slip up about letting Black into the castle. Remus, of course, puts on another mask so he doesn't react to anything - and shoots Harry an 'I've got this' glance. Which is all very well and good for a confident Remus that's had Severus under his heel all year... But OUR Severus? The Severus that's made Remus look (and feel) wimpy? ...I think they're both going to get a shock.

‘Full of Dark Magic?’ he repeated mildly. ‘Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who tries to read it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke-shop –’ ‘Indeed?’ said Snape. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. ‘You think a joke-shop could supply him with such a thing? You don’t think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?’ Harry didn’t understand what Snape was talking about. Nor, apparently, did Lupin. ‘You mean, from Mr Wormtail or one of these people?’ he said. ‘Harry, do you know any of these men?’ ‘No,’ said Harry quickly. ‘You see, Severus?’ said Lupin, turning back to Snape. ‘It looks like a Zonko product to me –’ Right on cue, Ron came bursting into the office. He was completely out of breath, and stopped just short of Snape’s desk, clutching the stitch in his chest and trying to speak. ‘I – gave – Harry – that – stuff,’ he choked. ‘Bought – it – in Zonko’s – ages – ago …’ ‘Well!’ said Lupin, clapping his hands together and looking around cheerfully. ‘That seems to clear that up! Severus, I’ll take this back, shall I?’ He folded the map and tucked it inside his robes. ‘Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay. Excuse us, Severus.’

To Harry - Lupin didn't seem to know what Snape was talking about. He is stunned as the teachers have their little battle - as Severus tries not to say too much, and Remus lies through his teeth about things he doesn't need to lie about. His name is written on it. Dumbledore would know who 'Moony' is. Given the chance to defend Lupin, Harry and the Weasleys would come clean on how they got it. But OUR Harry? He knows Lupin is keeping secrets. He cuts off conversations when he feels stressed, he stammers excuses for odd behaviour - and now Snape has suggested he knew James more intimately than just 'being friends at Hogwarts' - yet has told him nothing of note. He might be a little protective of Lupin, but he has never trusted any adult fully... and he is starting to smell the lies.

‘You mean, from Mr Wormtail or one of these people?’ he said. ‘Harry, do you know any of these men?’ ‘No,’ said Harry quickly. ‘You see, Severus?’ said Lupin, turning back to Snape. ‘It looks like a Zonko product to me –’ 'But you do, right? Professor?' Harry cut him off. The silence was palpable. Remus' soft smile was missing at he stared back, wide-eyed. Snape was just as speechless. He realized, with a sickening drop in his stomach, he had essentially just come to Snape's defense. Before anyone could say anything more, Ron came bursting into the office. He was completely out of breath, and stopped just short of Snape’s desk, clutching the stitch in his chest and trying to speak.

Harry does what Severus has done all year: Snapped back at Remus' attempts at bullshitting. It's Remus' fear: his student is suspicious of him. Severus is just plain confused. He never thought James Potter's son would jump in to take his side on anything... he hasn't had anyone on his side all year, either. Not that thats unusual. Is this history repeating? A Potter defending Severus from Remus...? Nah. Not quite. (Not posting the original quote - because it's long. Remus says he met the mapmakers, and that they would have wanted to lure Harry out - but otherwise just tells him off like a good little teacher - leaving Harry feeling guilty.)

Harry didn’t dare look at Snape as they left his office. He, Ron and Lupin walked all the way back into the Entrance Hall before speaking. Then Harry turned to Lupin. ‘So you do know them.’ Harry asked directly. 'That's why Snape called for you. Your name is on it.' Lupin looked pained for a moment, like he was sucking on a sherbert lemon. ‘That is correct.’ said Lupin shortly. He glanced around the empty Entrance Hall and lowered his voice. ‘I helped make the map. It was a long time ago. Last I knew of its whereabouts it was confiscated by Mr Filch.’ he said not looking any less pained about having to say it. Ron looked amazed, but Harry's expression hardened as Lupin continued. ‘I don’t want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn’t hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around.’ Harry was too keen for explanations to let him continue. ‘Why did you lie?’ Harry asked sharply. 'If Snape knows one of the names was you, why lie about it?' ‘Because …’ Lupin hesitated, for longer than was comfortable. ‘because... I didn't want you thinking I was suspicious.' Lupin smiled, chuckling slightly as he continued. 'Theres a dangerous man about, Harry! One who wants to lure you out of school-’ ‘One of your friends.’ said Harry, correcting him - and getting more indignant. 'Is his name on the map too? What about my father?' ‘...You're quite sharp, aren't you.’ he said slowly, his smile falling as he looked at Harry more seriously than ever before. 'Yes, they are. It was a long time ago, as I said.' 'Give it back.' Harry snapped, reaching for the map - but Lupin snatched it away. 'I can’t let you have it back, Harry.' Harry's jaw stiffened. Ron looked almost disgusted. 'You said his dad's, yeah? He has a right to it!' ‘I have a right to it too, as one of its makers!' Lupin stopped himself, as if catching that he sounded ridiculously petty. '...I covered for you, Harry - at risk to myself. You can't expect me to do it again. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the Dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them – gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks.’ He walked away quickly, leaving no room for a response. Harry felt far worse than he had at any point in Snape’s office. 'Sounds more like he was covering for himself...' Ron mumbled, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.

I wanted a Harry hurt by Remus' lies. Harry never quite see's his teachers bad qualities while he is at school - because he is only 13. But if Snape being a snappy little bugger has one consequence: It's eroding Remus' projection of a confident man without secrets. Harry can sometimes ignore things he isn't directly interested in, but he is interested in both Remus and Snape. He wouldn't miss that. With some added defensive Ron, because Ron is a good lad.

There are many ways to spin this to be more overt, I took a very soft-handed approach that hasn't ended up changing too much. Baseline, I think: Remus would bend the knee to Severus more often than not. His one true goal is to look good - and Severus' goal is to not let him do that. Snape is BETTER at these games than Remus is. Remus has Dumbledore on his side to stop Snape from getting too loose-lipped, but we all know Snape is clever, witty, petty and vindictive. He finds ways around the rules and does his best to get information to the children that will keep them safe. The only thing holding him back is a slight fear of Lupin. If Remus were to confront Snape, beyond dragging him into a Dumbledore meeting, it would be a 'pretending to be nice, full of backhanded-compliments and cheeky remarks' argument in private. In Snapes office, so Remus can leave rather than have to demand Snape leaves. Because the moment Snape actually becomes angry he would leave - with one last biting remark, so he can feel like he had the upper hand.

....Is this like.... what you wanted? I sorta fell off the deep end... I feel like I've been on some sort of bender...

#love you remus #remus lupin #remus my beloved #severus snape #hp #headcannons

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sweetbuckybarnes · 3 months

Text

The Man

Pairings: Colin Bridgerton + Penelope Featherington

Summary: After finding out Penelope is Lady Whistledown, Colin swears to never forgive his fiancée. A letter arriving at Bridgerton House makes him change his mind.

Main Masterlist | Polin Masterlist | Lover Album

I would be complex, I would be cool, they'd say I played the field before I found someone to commit to. And that would be okay for me to do, every conquest I had made would make me more of a boss to you.

Penelope watched with tears in her eyes and heartbreak in her chest as Colin said with no hesitation that he would never forgive her for what she had written as Lady Whistledown.

She let out a quiet sob, turning to get back into the hack she had hired, not realising Colin had turned around at the sound of her sob. Because no matter how angry at her he could be, his heart would always beat for his Pen.

I'd be a fearless leader, I'd be an alpha type. When everyone believes ya, what's that like?

Penelope knew Colin wouldn't call on her the day after he found out about her secret identity. She could easily imagine what his reaction would have been if she wasn't a woman - if she wasn't Penelope Featherington, the plump former best friend of Eloise Bridgerton.

She knew he would call off the engagement and wedding before too long. She had tried to find a moment when they were alone and nobody was listening to their conversation. Where she could sit him down and gently tell him her identity and the reason why she did what she did.

But, like Colin always did. He jumped.

Penelope knew she had been waiting for the other shoe to fall, for Colin to realise he actually wasn't as in love with her as he proclaimed. Why would he? He courted Marina, nearly married her in Gretna Green (unaware of the baby she carried), and he loudly proclaimed for anyone to hear - they would have to be mad to consider courting her.

So, she did the only thing she knew.

She went to her room, and wrote a letter to Colin, to Eloise (not that the second Bridgerton daughter would possibly read it), to the Dowager Viscountess and her mama.

She would call off the wedding herself. Give Colin his ring back and leave.

I'm so sick of running as fast as I can, wonderin' if I'd get there quicker if I was a man. And I'm so sick of them comin' at me again. 'Cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man. I'd be the man.

"Colin!" Violet called for her son, holding a letter in one hand, reading over the penmanship and the gentle words. She held out a letter for her third-born son, as well as a small brown envelope. "This has come for you."

Dear, Mr. Bridgerton,

I am sorry it has come to this. I had long hoped you would eventually return my feelings. However, I believe my being Whistledown would be too much-

Whilst he had been reading the beginnings of her letter, he had managed to open the little brown envelope with his fingers.

Sitting in the envelope? Penelope's engagement ring.

Colin blinked repeatedly, dropping her letter and pulling her ring between two fingers.

"Oh, Colin."

"She's left me."

They's say I hustled, put in the work. They wouldn't shake their heads and question how much of this I deserve. What I was wearing, if I was rude. Could all be separated from my good ideas and power moves.

Colin and Violet hurried across the square, making work of the Featherington staircase and were greeted by Varley. "We must see Lady Featherington and Penelope. Immediately," Violet said.

Varley let the pair in. "Lady Featherington is in the drawing room, but..." she never got her next sentence out, as the pair made for the reception room, seeing Lady Featherington sitting alone in a chair, her head in her hand as (surprisingly) tears ran down her face.

"Oh! Lady Bridgerton, Mr. Bridgerton! Please, forgive me. I was not expecting you."

"Where is Penelope?" Colin nearly demanded, looking around the room, not seeing his fiancée in her usual spot looking out of the window.

Portia looked from Colin to Varley, to Violet and then to Colin. Violet muttered a gentle 'oh, dear' before Portia said anything. "She is not here, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Not here? What on Earth do you mean she is not here? This is her home, is it not?"

Portia didn't say anything, simply handed the letter her third daughter had written to her so Colin could read it.

I am sorry it has led to this, mama. That me being Lady Whistledown has brought us so much disgrace. But, you must know, I could not think of any better ideas at the time - with Marina and Eloise.

I know Colin and Lady Bridgerton will come to see you in the morning, demanding to know where I am-

His Pen, the smartest woman he knows.

But, by the time they arrive. I will be long gone.

What?

I have written my final Whistledown edition, telling the ton that I was Whistledown, that Colin and I will not be getting married. Hopefully, by the time the Bridgertons come to see you, I will already be on a boat, leaving England.

"She has run away?"

"Oh, Colin."

What's it like to brag about raking in dollars, and getting bitches and models? And it's all good if you're bad, and it's okay if you're mad. If I was out flashin' my dollars, I'd be a bitch, not a baller. They'd paint me out to be bad, so it's okay that I'm mad.

Colin ran along the dock, looking for that flash of red hair and possibly one of the green dresses he loved so much. Every green dress he saw was matched with either blonde or brunette hair, every redhead had some kind of pink dress to match. One redhead was wearing a yellow dress but.. that can't have been...

He catches the lady by her elbow and spins her around. "Pen!"

"Mr. Bridgerton!"

He cups Penelope's face between his palms. "No, Pen. I am Colin to you. I always have been. But, you, my darling girl. Have sent me on the longest goose chase known to mankind."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I thought I made myself clear in my letter."

"Oh, you did. You made yourself crystal clear. But why would you think Whistledown would come between us?"

"You did say you would never forgive me after you found out."

Colin shook his head. "That was before I nearly lost you, forever. I have spent one summer longing to hear word from home. From you. But I never did. I had never felt more alone that summer than I had my entire life. The letters I got from my family did not mention you. That is all I wanted to hear, how you were."

Penelope looked up at him with a furrowed eyebrows. What on Earth was he saying? "Colin, I have to go. I am going to be late for my boat."

"Which boat? I want to know where we will be going," he tells her, eyes bouncing from boat to boat, then down at his fiancée. "Do you seriously believe I would let you go again? Do you honestly believe that I would ever let you go, now that I finally see you? How I should have seen you last year, or even the year before? Maybe even before you debuted, either way, I should have known you would be mine."

"What about Whistledown?"

He shook his head. "We shall discuss Whistledown in the carriage, just..." he reached into his pocket and pulled out Penelope's pearl engagement ring. "Will you please marry me on Thursday?"

She nodded her head, knowing with the smile on Colin's face and the sparkle in his eyes - they were going to be okay.

#polin #polin fic #colin x pen #pen x colin #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #violet bridgerton #mrs varley #portia featherington #didn't exact write the way i wanted it to...

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loulouwrites · 11 months

Text

Secrets . Tommy Shelby

summary: tommy shelby is dead, and his life has just begun

warnings: angst, talk of death, grief, post season 6, abuse, discussions of domestic violence, unedited,tommy shelby having a normal job? lmk if i missed any!

word count: 5k

Death was no stranger to Thomas Shelby.

He had killed more men than he could count, he had lost more friends than he cared to remember, and he had died six months ago - at least, that's what everybody thought.

He wondered if he should have felt more guilty. He was sure his family had grieved him - he hoped they had, anyway - but he would not blame them if they hadn't.

He imagined, as they grieved them, relief also passed through them, he imagined them feeling guilty for thinking such a thing. He knew Ada would feel terrible, shake the thought out of her head, but it would be there.

Thomas Shelby was dead, and that meant his terrible legacy died with him.

He didn't feel anything when he thought about his family's reaction, because his was the same. He grieved the loss of himself, he grieved those he loved that were still living, knowing he would never see them again. He grieved the dead, his dead wife, his precious daughter that was taken before her life truly began, and he grieved that he was not going to see them for a long time. But, admist his grief, that wave of relief washed over him, he felt his stomach untwist, he felt the weight on his shoulders disappear, and for the first time in a long time, he felt free.

For the first time in his life, he was exactly where he needed to be.

Alone.

Nobody here knew his real name, nobody knew what he had done, and most importantly, nobody cared.

The first month he had has been dead, he had met a group of travellers, they had welcomed him into their camp with open arms and open bottles of cheap whiskey. He had been lucky they didn't recognise him, the community being so small, but by some miracle, they didn't.

He didn't stay long, the group was too insular, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they ran into a group who did know who he was, and who would tell anybody who would listen that the dead Thomas Shelby OBE, was not actually dead.

The second month, he had travelled north and had worked on the shipyards in the North East. They were used to all kinds of people travelling there for work and leaving after a few months to move on to bigger and better things - he had lasted two weeks.

Thomas Shelby was no fool. He had no need to work jobs on shipyards or factories. He had given his businesses away, he had buried his titles with him, but there was always Shelby money somewhere, hidden in different parts of Birmingham, money that was meant to stay hidden.

Enough to allow him live comfortably for the rest of his life.

The third and fourth months were spent collecting that money and trying to find something to do with it.

He was not a man that was made to relax. He didn't enjoy sitting, or reading, or any leisurely activities, he was born to work. He had always been like that, always working towards something, always reaching towards a goal, but he had done everything a man could do, and now, it was time to rest.

He liked living in the countryside. He had thought it might be too dangerous, too many nosy neighbours and friendly questions, but not too many people passed through, and those that did didn't care about where he came from, they tended to just ask him for directions to the nearest town.

He lived a lonely life, and he liked it that way.

He did have one friend. When solitude became too much, even for him, he would venture the two miles to the nearest house, where a charming elderly widow named Pearl lived.

Pearl was nearing seventy-five. She had lived for two centuries, she had seen a queen die, a king crowned, she had seen her sons shipped off to war and never return, and she had seen many liars in her time. And yet, she did not suspect the nice man who lived close by to be anything but an honourable, young man.

Pearl's husband had died almost twenty years ago, and she had seen the look of a bereft spouse on Tommy Shelby's face the moment she had seen him - but she never asked him about it. They didn't talk much over the dinners Pearl would prepare, they didn't really need to, they had both talked enough in their time.

It was a chilly night when Tommy approached Pearl's little cottage. He always came to dinner on the last Sunday of the month, how that habit had formed, he had no idea.

The old woman had greeted him with a smile at the door, waving him inside where it was warm and inviting, the smell of her cooking a warm welcome.

He had barely sat down on the wooden chair at the foot of the table when a crash came from the adjacent kitchen, and he had shot the woman fussing over him a questioning look, to which he shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Pearl," a woman's voice called from the kitchen, the door swinging open "I broke two of your plates." The woman stopped in the doorway when she noticed Tommy sat at the table, her eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Pearl waved a dismissive hand at the woman, patting Tommy on the shoulder and waving her over to the table, encouraging her to take a seat.

"It's only a couple of plates," Pearl said, "I have too many, anyways." She pointed to the woman that had gingerly sat down to the right of Tommy, introducing her before disappearing into the kitchen to plate up their dinner, "she's a family friend and will be staying with me for a while."

"Pearl has spoke of you very fondly, Tom." The woman smiled, leaning forward in her chair.

Tommy hadn't bothered to change his forename.

"I'm glad to hear it," Tommy grabbed the glass of water that Pearl had placed on the table before he had arrived, "she hasn't mentioned you before, though."

Tommy was good at reading people, always had been, and he didn't miss the way the woman's red painted lips tightened, her smile slightly straining at his words.

"I should be offended." She let out a huff of laughter, "I always thought Pearl and I were close."

"Not as close as I am with Pearl." Tommy joked, noticing the woman's posture relax as she leaned back in her chair.

"Yes, well, Pearl makes friends very easily. I don't think she has ever met stranger."

Tommy smiled at the woman's words, his eyes flickering across her face. She was pretty, her makeup was perfectly applied to her face and her hair was immaculately styled, even the red varnish on her nails was perfect.

She shifted under his gaze, and Tommy realised he hadn't spoken in at least a minute, and he cleared his throat, embarrassed at what he was sure she thought was him leering.

The awkward atmosphere was thankfully broken by Pearl reentering the room, her hands full as she balanced three plates in her arms. Tommy was quick to jump out, taking the plates from the older woman and setting them on the table.

The dinner conversation was more lively than it usually was when Tommy visited, Pearl seemingly thrilled at having another presence at the table, so much so, the two younger people in the room could barely get a word in for the entire meal.

Pearl had excused herself after dinner, claiming it was too late for a woman her age, and insisting her two friends make themselves a cup of tea before Tom headed home.

The clattering of cups on saucers were all that could be heard in the living room, the awkward tension returning as they sat on the sofa.

She reached over to the side table, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, offering one to Tommy, which he declined with a shake of his head, though he did inhale extra hard when the smoke drifted his way.

"You and Pearl have become quite close." She said eventually, flicking the ashes of her cigarette into the crystal ashtray on the coffee table.

"Oh, we're the best of friends." Tommy nodded, his voice flat, but his eyes carrying a glimmer of humour that she clearly picked up on, her lips curling into a smile.

"I'm almost jealous."

"Of me?" Tommy raised his eyebrows, "or of Pearl?"

Her laugh was one of the best things he had heard in a long time.

"I suppose it must be nice having a friend, it's so rural here, it must get lonely."

"Loneliness isn't always a bad thing." Tommy muttered, and she didn't miss the bitterness in his tone.

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, taking a drag of her cigarette, "as long as you choose it."

Tommy hummed in response, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. "Why are you here?" He didn't mean for the question to sound so abrupt, he meant to ask it in a friendly manner, instead it came out like an interrogation, and her eyebrows raised in surprised.

"Pearl is an old family friend, she offered me somewhere to stay for a while."

"For a while?" Tommy asked, "won't your husband miss you?"

He flinched at his words. Subtle.

"I'm not married," she offered him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "what about you? Pearl told me you live alone."

"Widowed." Tommy shrugged, and she nodded in response, but she didn't say anything, she didn't offer him her condolences, or ask what happened, and he would be eternally grateful for that.

He saw himself out a few moments later, thanking her for the tea, and telling her to thank Pearl for the lovely meal.

"It was very nice to meet you...Tom..."

"Smith." Tommy answered from the front door.

He had never had a very good imagination.

◇─◇──◇─◇

He saw her again three days later. It was Wednesday when she arrived at his door, holding a basket of rock cakes in her hand, pushing past him into his house before he had time to protest.

The house was unbearably plain. He hadn't bothered to decorate the place, keeping the furniture that was there when he had purchased it. He watched as she took in the living room, her head moving around, taking in the bare walls and dated carpet.

He imagined it looked strange, there was not one personal touch in the entire house, no paintings, no photographs, just the daily newspaper thrown on the table in the corner.

"I love what you've done with the place." Her tone was so serious, Tommy almost thought she was being genuine, and his eyes widened until she turned her head to meet his gaze, a smirk on her perfectly painted list.

"I've been known to have an eye for interior design." He smirked back, and she snorted at his words.

"Pearl sent me." She held up the basket in her hand, "she made too many."

"You'd think she would no portion control by now." He said, taking the basket from her and setting it on the table, next to the unread newspaper.

"I think she made the specially for you." She smiled, "it's nice."

"It is." Tommy agreed and she began walking around the living room, a frown on her face.

"What do you do?" She asked eventually, her tone incredulous. He frowned at her words, his face questioning. "I mean...there are no books, no writing materials...what do you do all day?"

Tommy considered his response, but what could he say? 'I spend all my time pondering every mistake I have ever made?' 'All I do is wonder what my family are doing at this very moment?' 'I wish I was actually dead?'

He just shrugged.

"Do you not get bored?" She sounded truly concerned about him.

"Only boring people get bored." He told her, his mother had told him that when he was young.

"Now I see why you're so fond of Pearl. She's the only entertainment you have."

"She's more than enough." Tommy joked dryly, and she smirked at him, a knowing look on her face.

"Well...have a good day." She made her way to his front door, "God knows how."

The door had closed behind her before he could respond.

He didn't go and see Pearl that night, instead choosing to walk through the empty fields surrounding his property. He enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere at night here. The sky was clear, there was no city fog or grime that hid the stars in the sky, the air was crisp and fresh, not assaulting his lungs as he walked. It allowed him time to think, but he didn't think about the bad things outside, those were reserved for the confines of his house.

When he was out in the calm of nature, he allowed himself to think about the good things, few as they were.

When he returned to his house, he almost missed the object that had been placed on his front step, he would have if he hadn't tripped over it when he went to unlock his front door.

He picked up the object as if it were a bomb, rather than the leather-bound book it was, holding it between his thumb and forefinger with a frown on his face.

Jane Eyre.

He couldn't help but huff out a laugh.

◇─◇──◇─◇

"Did you like it?" She asked him two weeks later. Tommy didn't know they had ended up walking together every lunchtime on a Saturday, but he couldn't find a reason to complain.

"No." He huffed, "I didn't like Jane Eyre either, by the way."

She rolled her eyes at his words, not phased by his clear displeasure. She had started leaving books on his doorstep every week. The first had been Jane Eyre, which Tommy had read in only three days, not pleased by the story one bit. The second had been a Charles Dickens novel that he had already read years ago, and he didn't like it the first time either.

"I'm starting to think you don't like much." She grumbled, nudging his shoulder with hers as they walked down the country road.

"That's not true, at all." He said, placing a hand on her lower back, rubbing circles there. They both stopped walking, heads turned to face each other, he leaned his head in, their foreheads almost touching. He noted the nervous look in her eyes, how her body stiffened under his touch, "I like Pearl." He removed his hand from her back, continuing his stroll, smirking when he heard her modest heels clicking against the pavement as she tried to catch up with him.

"You have a terrible sense of humour." She huffed, a smile on her lips.

◇─◇──◇─◇

She became a regular fixture in Tommy's life. He saw her more often than he saw Pearl, for she would venture to his house whenever she felt like it, asking him his opinions on the books she had given him, sometimes she would turn up with flowers and plants to 'brighten the room'.

He didn't mind it as much as he thought he would. She wasn't an imposition in his life, she didn't ask him questions about his life, she didn't pry when his mind seemed to be elsewhere, she kept their conversations to the books they had read and their upcoming meals at Pearl's house.

If he were still a suspicious man, he would have found it strange.

Why was she so disinterested in his past?

Was it because she didn't want him to be interested in hers?

But, he wasn't that man anymore, and he learned to be grateful for their encounters, no matter how shallow they were.

She eyed him suspiciously from across his kitchen table, the china cup hiding the bottom half of her face. She had become quite good at reading him over the months, she could tell when he wanted to say something, and when he didn't.

"What's on your mind?" She placed the cup down, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Where are you from?" He asked her, his expression blank, not suspicious, but not completely uninterested, either.

"South."

"South." Tommy repeated, nodding his head.

"Where are you from?"

"North."

"North." She replicated his nod.

"Why did you move here?"

"I got sick of the city, Pearl offered me a place to stay at hers."

"You didn't work?"

"No." She sighed, bringing her cup of tea to her lips again.

"You've never been married and you didn't work. Family money?"

"Something like that." She shrugged and Tommy could see the irritation growing on her face.

"Must have been a lonely life."

"You'd know, wouldn't you?" She stood up from her seat them, brushing out the small creases in her green dress, her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but she shook her head, grabbing her handbag and leaving the kitchen.

Tommy felt guilty, but he didn't try to stop her.

◇─◇──◇─◇

He didn't see her for another few days. He knew she was avoiding him, it didn't surprise him when she didn't show up for their afternoon walk the next day, or when Pearl informed him she hadn't been feeling well so she wouldn't be joining them for dinner.

Pearl didn't miss the way his shoulder's deflated when she informed him.

Tommy didn't miss the ghost of a smirk on Pearl's face.

He saw her again exactly one week after she had stormed out of his kitchen. He had ventured into the nearest town to buy the essentials he had run out of over the past month, when he saw her, she was exiting the bakery.

She stood out like a sore thumb in the rural town. Her blue button up dress was cinched at the waist, the hat she wore was perfectly placed on top of the fashionable waves of her hair.

She didn't look like she belonged in the countryside, better suited for the nicer streets of London, or even, New York.

Tommy supposed he didn't particularly fit in either.

He approached her as she was about to enter the post office, offering to take the string shopping bag from her arms, which she declined with a polite smile.

He followed her into the post office, lagging behind due to the multiple women exiting, thanking him for holding the door.

He stood by the entrance, watching as passed along letters to the man at the desk, reaching to her purse to pay for the postage, plus a pack of cigarettes and some cherry drops.

He held the door open for her when she left, struggling to keep up with her quick steps.

"I thought you had no family." Tommy said, her pace slowing, making it easier for him to walk by her side.

"I didn't say that." She muttered, her gaze fixed ahead of her, "I said I had no husband. We all have family, Mr Smith."

"No all of us."

"Aren't you a widow?" She frowned, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze, "you had no children?"

The word got stuck in Tommy's mouth, "no." He flinched at how small his voice sounded.

"No brothers, sisters, parents?"

"No."

She didn't pry, she just nodded, letting a comfortable silence take over as they walked home.

She invited him in when they got to Pearl's cottage, informing him the elderly woman was in Brighton for the weekend, visiting her sister who had recently fallen ill.

He had gracefully accepted, helping her unpack the numerous shopping bags in the kitchen, and offering to help her cook dinner, but she shook him off, telling him she cooked better alone.

She wasn't as good of a chef as Pearl, Tommy noted as he struggled to cut his lamb, the meat slipping along the plate with the force.

She grimaced when the glasses shook on the table, a clear indication she had cooked the meat half an hour too long.

"I'm sorry." She sighed, "I've never been a good cook, or good hostess."

He waved a dismissive hand at her, finally gathering a cut of lamb on his fork, trying not to chew too aggressively under her watchful gaze.

"You don't have to eat it." She told him, setting her knife and fork down, "God knows I'm not going to."

"It's...good." Tommy said, trying to discreetly pick out the tough meat from his teeth with his tongue, she shot him an unimpressed look, and he huffed a laugh. "I've had worse."

"Hopefully Pearl will be home soon, I'm going to starve if she isn't."

"I could do with some starvation, I've had to get my trousers let out since I moved here."

"I lied." She said suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, and Tommy's eyes squinted in confusion.

"I'd say you were truthful...you really aren't a good cook."

"No." She groaned, sipping the red wine she had poured for herself, "I lied to you...about my life."

"I'm not trying to be funny, love, but you haven't told me anything about your life."

Her expression relaxed somewhat as she looked at him, but he could still see the worry in her eyes.

"I did. I said I've never been married."

She rose up from the table, pacing the small dining area with a sheepish expression on her face. Tommy breathed out heavily, gently placing his knife and fork on his plate as he watched her.

"You have been married?" He asked, not enjoying the way his stomach faintly twisted. He barely knew this woman, he had no right to feel betrayed because she had lied to him.

"I have been." She muttered, and his eyes narrowed further, but he didn't respond. "I mean...I am? Still...I think?"

"You think?" Tommy finally spoke, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and concern. He stood up from the table, mirroring her pacing movements as he tried to make sense of it all. "What do you mean you think you're still married? You either are or you aren't."

"I am." She spoke with conviction, halting her pacing to face him from the opposite side of the table. "I am still married."

"Why did you lie?" Tommy's words came out harsh, though he truly didn't mean them to. He had no right to judge her, he was just as bad, but he couldn't help but feel offended by her deception.

She looked down, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of her wine glass. "I didn't mean to lie, it was just easier than the truth."

Tommy knew exactly what she meant.

"My husband wasn't kind," she continued, "he didn't physically harm me, but it would only have been a matter of time. He would find me if I stayed with my family, so I came here."

She didn't owe him an explanation, and Tommy was rather floored she had given him one.

He knew what the old him would do.

He could feel the primal, violent desires he thought had died rise up inside of him.

But, he wasn't that man anymore.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked her finally, moving to stand directly in front of her.

She shrugged at his words, "I don't know. I just don't like secrets."

Tommy felt a pang in his stomach.

"Everybody has secrets, love."

"Even you?"

"Even me."

◇─◇──◇─◇

Something changed following their conversation over dinner. Whilst Tommy assumed she would pull away from him, they seemed to get closer over the weeks.

Tommy wasn't sure whether he wanted to spend so much time with her, but he didn't put up much of a fight. He should have felt guilty about it, she had told him her secret, and he was still clinging on to his.

There were many times he thought about telling her, like on the walk they took where it started to rain and they had to run back to his, or when she brought him extra scones Pearl had made, or when she was lying with her head against his bare chest on a Sunday morning, but he never did.

They were just passing time.

That's what she had said before she left his house one morning. They were both lonely, neither of them had anything better to do, they were doing each other a favour.

"How did you get your money?" She asked him as she buttoned up her blue dress.

He choked on his cigarette smoke.

"What do you mean?" He asked, once his wheezing had subsided, standing from the bed to get dressed.

"You bought a cute little home in the countryside, but you don't work...I'm curious."

There was nothing hidden behind her smile. She wasn't asking for any reason other than wanting to know more about him.

The guilt returned to his gut.

"Gambling." He shrugged, buttoning up his shirt, his cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Gambling?"

"Horses...got lucky."

It wasn't exactly a lie.

◇─◇──◇─◇

Tommy enjoyed his mornings with her. He enjoyed the simplicity of waking up slowly, lighting a cigarette as he looked down at her sleeping form. He always woke up before her - he didn't sleep well, she was a master at it - and he liked it that way.

"I feel like we're abandoning Pearl." He told her, watching as she rubbed sleep from her eyes at the kitchen table, accepting the cup of tea he placed down in front of her, raising an eyebrow when she declined the toast and marmalade, reaching for a biscuit off the plate in the middle of the table instead.

"Tea and biscuits is the best breakfast you can have." She had told him.

"You're abandoning Pearl." She said, "I live with her."

"You haven't been home in days."

"That's your fault." She told him, "you're the one that trapped me here."

"I trapped you here, did I?"

"You make such good cups of tea, it makes it hard to go home."

Tommy hummed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Pearl does use too much milk."

"Exactly. You've spoiled me." She smirked, standing from her seat. "But you're right...I should go home." She brushed his shoulder when she passed him, "I'll see you around, Mr Smith."

He made sure to kiss her before she left.

◇─◇──◇─◇

The three days without her allowed Tommy time to think.

He enjoyed his time with her, but he could never seem to think clearly when he was in her presence. Her charm and wit would cloud any thought he had until he was utterly consumed by her.

It wasn't much different when she was gone, either.

His thoughts were still entirely made up of her - he wondered if it was because her floral perfume still lingered on his pillow - but he was able to properly assess the past few months.

He remembered how hollow he had been. How there was nothing to think about but the ghosts of his past, how he would tremble when he remembered the things he had seen, and the things he had done.

He remembered how she had changed that.

Now the haunting memories only came back in hushed whispers, whispers he could easily ignore when her laugh was so much louder, her presence much more dominating.

He wondered if he could love somebody he barely knew. Somebody who didn't know him at all.

Of course she knew small things.

She knew he preferred jam on his toast, she knew he didn't like sugar in his tea - a fact she had been horrified to learn - and she knew he was haunted.

She never asked him about it, but she knew. She couldn't ignore the way the nightmares made him shake, she couldn't ignore his body feeling like a furnace under her perfectly manicured fingers.

She didn't ask him, but he offered her an answer anyways.

He paced the floor of his bedroom, his breathing finally returning to normal, his eyes meeting hers from where she was sat up on the bed, her eyes concerned.

"France." He had muttered, returning to his spot in bed beside her.

She said nothing, instead, laying her head back on the pillow, her hand resting on his chest, above his rapidly beating heart.

It wasn't exactly a lie.

He pondered the timeline of their relationship as he walked to Pearl's house on a chilly Sunday evening.

They didn't know each other, not really, that was the beauty of it. She didn't know who Tommy really was, but she knew enough to feel safe with him. He didn't know much about her past, but he knew enough to know she could be trusted.

He didn't know much about her.

Yet, Tommy loved her anyway.

It was a strange feeling. He felt lighter, he felt happier, but there was still the guilt.

She had not offered him more information than was needed.

He had outright lied to her.

And so, as he approached the neighbouring house, Tommy decided he would tell her. He would tell her his real name, he would tell her what he had done, and he would tell her loved her.

There was no anxiety when he got to the front door, knocking lightly, even though Pearl had told him there was no need to. There was no need to feel anxious, because he was sure she felt the same - and he was certain, no matter what, she would not betray him.

Pearl greeted him with a smile, ushering him in as she always did. His eyes darted around the living room as he shrugged off his coat, the room looked the same as it always did, but something felt different.

He offered to help Pearl, knowing she would decline as always, pushing him towards the dining area.

He frowned when he got to the table, his eyes lingering on it for a moment too long.

It was set for two.

He glanced at the older woman in a silent questioning, and she sighed heavily under his gaze.

"She went home, son." She said, reaching over to rub his arm, a maternal comfort.

He knew she could see the confusion on his face, whether she could see the devastation and betrayal, he did not know.

"When?" He managed to ask, his throat dry.

"Two days ago." Pearl said, gently pushing Tommy into his seat at the head of the table. "Husband came up to get her, took her back."

He wished the woman had punched him in the stomach.

"And you let her go?" His voice held no venom, he was simply deflated in the chair.

"You can't force a woman to stay somewhere she doesn't want to, my love. No matter how much you want to."

She didn't wait for him to respond, leaving the room to plate up their dinner. Tommy's eyes stayed fixed on the place she would be sitting if she were here, his eyes not wavering from the empty chair.

It would have been easy to be sad.

It would have even easier to be angry.

But, he felt nothing.

She was just another ghost that would haunt him in his nightmares, and if that were the only way he would see her again, he looked forward to them.

He could not feel betrayed by her.

He was the liar, after all.

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