#or maybe the sun just moved past the roof of the house lol

[miss-floral-thief]

lol interesting even before 6pm the brightness lessened despite the heat

[syndxlla]

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between both and totk

Chapter Six: This is Home

Read chapter five here

My masterlist

Song: Run To You by Leah Michele

Summary: Link is brought on to investigate a new strange monster plaguing the farmers in Hateno. He is faced with a new type of post-traumatic experience he doesn’t expect to have.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, suspense and horror, PTSD, squint and theres very base-line sexual content, GRAPHIC descriptions of animal mutilations!

Word Count: 3.5k words

Authors Note: I didn’t update for two and a half months and said “lemme give you guys the best chapter yet” (imo). Thank you for being patient with me. I restarted school, closed one musical, opened and closed a 30 performance long run of another musical and literally fell in love with a man 16-years-older than me in that time lol. Also I wrote this in one sitting and I’m starting chapter 7 now 🫡. Its unedited be nice.

Also please do not make fun of me for using a Leah Michele song for this chapter its so good and it works really good so just shut up. Kloveyoubye

The summer starts to get hotter. A week passes and nothing changes, neither of them ever address the hand holding, Link is fixing the hole in the roof and Zelda is reteaching herself how to fix a clock, an activity she originally learned at the age of seven. Everything is so normal, the sun starts to set a little later, and the fireflies have started hatching.

Link never really thought he would end up in a position to do housework. He tried to get Bolson to fix the hole before Link bought it, but it would take a certain number of wood piles and when Link went out to get them he got a little distracted. And by distracted he means ending the sandstorm in the desert caused by the Divine Beast. It just got put on the back burner, and now here he is, using basic tools to hammer in new shingles. He wipes his brow, his shirt off again. He takes a look at the hammer in his hand, thinking about the savage Lynel sword that same hand has swung.

The passage of time is weird.

Maybe he does want to go back to work. Going from Demon slayer to roof repairman in two and a half weeks is a little jarring.

He hears a groan of frustration from inside the house, and makes his way inside, where it's much cooler.

“Everything alright?” He asks, looking at the girl who’s hunched over the kitchen table.

“No, this is absurd.” She slams the machine on the kitchen table. “I can’t remember how to do the most basic thing in engineering ever.” She frowns.

Link chuckles and places a dirty hand on her shoulder as he walks past her. He moves to the water basin and wets a cloth that he wraps around his neck. “I don’t know the first thing about that stuff, so you have me beat.” He shrugs. “Man, what I would give for an hour at Lurelin right now. Or better yet a weekend at Tabantha. I bet the weather there is a comfortable 60 degrees.” He sighs. Trying to slyly put the worm in Zelda’s ear about a possible trip.

Zelda groans, “I agree. I don’t remember it getting this hot.”

“This is just the beginning, wait until it’s the midsummer festival.”

“A festival?” Zelda’s face lights up.

Link nods, “It’s something they started about thirty years ago. It’s right here in Hateno. People from all parts of the kingdom will travel for it.” Link drinks some water, leading against the counter at the hip. Zelda makes special effort not to admire how his obliques curved. “There’s music and dancing, it’s quite fun. I was invited last year as a special guest. The “chosen hero” or something like that.” Link shrugs.

At that moment they hear a sharp knock on their door. It startles both of them. Link moves to answer it, setting the rag and cup down.

“Dantz, what is it?” Link says as he opens the door to a distressed farmer.

“Master Link, so good to see you,” His voice is shaky, “I didn’t know who else to go to.” Link listens more intently, Zelda even stands. “Two more of my cattle have been killed. When I heard you were back in town I knew you could help me. I don’t know who—or what—is killing them, but it's not a moblin. It’s something darker.” He’s speaking a mile a minute.

“Slow down,” Link stops him, “When did this happen?”

“In the night, I came here as soon as I could. They were covered in something… unnatural. Please, Link.”

Link turns back to look at Zelda. “Stay here.”

“What? No. I’ll come with you!” She moves to him and Link stops her. If this is anything like what Cado saw at the castle, he didn’t want her to be anywhere near it.

Link completely turns around and puts his hands on her shoulders, “Zelda, you cannot.” He stays sternly.

“Why? You don’t have to baby me. I can help you.”

“Zel-“

“I’m better! Please don’t leave me-“ Before she finishes the sentence she’s falling back down, like she was going to faint again. She had gotten herself worked up and now her heart was weary again. Link catches her before she falls, her knees knocking together.

“Oh, Goddess.” Dantz says. “Should I help?” He asks and Link snaps, telling him ‘no’ a little too forcefully.

“Zel, come on, let's get you to bed.” He wraps her arm around his shoulder. “Dantz, I’ll be there within the hour. I’m sorry.” Link says in a calmer tone.

“I understand, Link.” He nods and turns to leave.

Zelda can’t get up the stairs and Link picks her up, carrying her up to her room. He places her in bed as she starts to cry.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” He brushes her hair out of her face. She takes his hand.

“No. It’s not.” She replies. “Stop telling me it’s okay.” She groans. “It’s ridiculous that I can’t do anything without this happening.” It was the second time this week.

“I have to go help them.” His hand is held back by her, but she eventually lets it go.

He turns to leave her, pulling his green tunic over his messy hair, and getting ready for combat. He isn’t even anticipating a fight, but he wants to be ready. He puts his gloves on, and straps both his sword and shield to his back. He even gets his bow ready because he has no idea what it might be. It sounds serious.

It’s the first time he’s been entirely suited-up since the castle. He forgot how natural it feels. He forgot how much he felt like himself.

Zelda has gotten up and stands at the railing of the loft. “Be careful.” She says in a weak voice.

Link looks up at her, he wants to stay here with her and hold her and let her know that it's going to be okay. “Please rest.”

He walks out the door.

The cattle are lying dead in the corner of the pasture. Flies buzz around them. Dantz and Link examine the scene, a pit in both their stomachs.

“What could it be?” Dantz asks.

Link crouches down, getting a closer look. The gunk is a deep maroon color, almost like malice but thinner, almost like a glossy serum as opposed to a thick slime. Link takes a risk and touches a bit of it that was strewn across the grass, rubbing it between his fingers. It didn’t seem to hurt him the way malice did. He sniffs it, it’s rotten and foul. He gags almost immediately. Link wipes his hand off in the grass.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” He admits. “And I’ve seen a lot.” This was only confirming his worst fears.

“The other ones that were killed were left like this too.” Dantz explains, “There isn’t even any meat taken out of them, only their eyes are gouged out.” He points out.

“Whatever is killing them is doing it for sport.” Link stands back up and folds his arms. “This is bizarre, I must say.” It was starting to be late afternoon, he still had a few hours of sunlight. “What did you do with the other ones that were killed?” Link asks.

“We tried to clean them up and butcher them for food. But the meat inside was rotten, like it was poisoned under the skin.”

Link hears a giggle from behind them and turns around to see the two daughters of the rancher watching them from behind a post. When he catches them staring they both hide.

“How old are your girls?” He asks.

“Siva is eighteen and Catli is sixteen.” Dantz replies. “They are my pride and joy, I can’t let anything bad happen to them.”

Link advances towards them, “Girls.” He smiles, charming as ever. They both sneak out from behind the post, sheepish and giddy. The older steps forward.

“You’re the hero.” She puts her hands behind her back. Link nods.

“Can you girls show me the edge of your property?” He asks, wanting to test a theory. They both happily nod and start to lead him, he notices especially how Siva looks at him as she walks by. She was very agreeable: long, dark and curly hair and alluring eyes. He follows them. They take him past the fence and through the forest, the younger chatting and asking questions about his quests and whatnot. He just smiles and nods, answering with basic “yes’” or “no’s”.

Link’s theory starts to prove right, he sees a set of two acorns on the ground, then a pair of two foot tracks, and eventually, at the end of the property, where two songbirds lay dead at the bottom of a tree, both covered in the same strange goop. Whatever this is, it’s looking for things in pairs. Like two sisters.

Link would never imagine putting these girls in danger, and would send them home in about an hour or two when it started to get dark, he just wanted to lure out whatever was killing with a pair.

He sat down at the base of a tree, and listened as the girls talked themselves up, clearly competing with one another for who can be the most impressive to the hero. Link decides to let them have their fun, it’s not like he was getting this attention from Zelda.

Zelda.

She’s all he could think about. He listens to the girls for a full hour, but doesn’t comprehend a word they’re saying because all he can do is think about the woman he left at home. He wishes he hadn’t left her home, she’s probably sad and lonely. Or maybe she isn’t, perhaps she’s enjoying some alone time. He doubted it, though. He was sure she was fuming at him for just leaving her, for going in such a rush. Proximity can cause problems, maybe this was good for them.

Link must have zoned out because all of a sudden the younger sister was gone, and he was left alone with Siva. This was dangerous territory.

“Where did your sister go?” He asks, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh! I told her to go get her tapestry to show you! Of course.” Siva says in a tone that was a little too flirty for Link’s liking. She sits next to him, facing him. Link knew the look on her face, and he knew he should stand up and put an end to whatever was about to happen. “Because you know… now we’re alone.” She sighs and leans in.

Stop. Stop. Stop. He tells himself but doesn’t move, he lets her place her lips on his.

Link is not an experienced kisser. He’s had a few drunken nights in the last three years where he ended up in a Gerudo’s bedchamber or a stable-workers hideout, and while those were all agreeable experiences, he’s never actively sought them out. It was always nice to get the tension from his journey off, though.

Link makes the mistake of kissing her back, and she’s sighing into his touch and he’s pulling her in. Being alone with a woman he’s been in love with for three years and not being able to touch her or talk to her the way he wants to has left him with a lot of pent up energy, it felt good to get it out.

Link puts his fingers through her hair, and starts to kiss down her jawline and neck and she’s letting out the prettiest little sounds.

And then he starts to think about Zelda. The sounds Zelda would make, the feeling of her hair intertwined in his fingers, how her lips would feel against his…

Zelda.

Zelda.

“Zelda.” He sighs, and then Savi is pulling away.

“Hm?” She asks, and Link is dazed and confused, thinking with anything other than his brain. He doesn’t know how long they were kissing because suddenly it's much darker outside, and if Dantz caught them like this, Link would be the one hunted down and killed, not whatever monster is out there.

Link immediately feels stupid, this was a rookie mistake. He shouldn’t have let it happen.

“What?” He responds to her, and then out of the corner of his eye, he sees something run behind the tree. “Shit.” He jumps up. “You need to go. Right now.” He pushes her back towards the house. It wasn’t far, she’d be okay. “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

She nods, also remembering their reason for being out here. She runs back home and Link shakes his head, trying to refocus. He sees it again, it’s fast, moving from tree to tree, but further away. Link grunts and starts to slowly follow it. He isn’t sure if it saw him. It’s tall, and it’s dark. He would guess it’s a Moblin by its size but it's much too fast to be a moblin. Perhaps a wizzrobe? But he could hear its feet on the grass. Link starts the stalk, prowling towards it like a predator.

He doesn’t think it knows he’s following, because he’s able to follow it halfway up Madorna Mountain before he accidentally steps on a branch that snaps loudly. Again, a rookie mistake. Link was out of practice, rusty. He silently curses himself for that. The beast turns around to look at Link, but he’s able to hide behind an oak tree. It was still a little light out, and the lights from down were getting smaller and smaller as they worked their way up the mountain.

Link stayed vigilant. It’s been a long time since he’s had to fight a new enemy, and he wasn’t sure how powerful this was going to be. It gets quiet, he doesn’t hear it move. Even with Link’s impaired hearing, he had a knack for the details, but not today, not now. A cricket chirps but it’s silenced halfway through its sound. The wind goes still. A cloud covers the moon.

He girds up, and moves from behind the tree to keep following it, but he’s met with a horrific sight.

The creature is standing there, about six feet away from Link.

It startles him. He’s met with a feeling of dread.

It’s tall, probably seven feet. It’s hunched down, a humanoid-sort of beast that looks like a shadow covered in the same maroon gloop as the animals.

Link freezes up, he is paralyzed with fear because he knows exactly what it is.

He knows who it is.

It opens its eyes, those awful, yellow, glowing eyes. He chuckles at Link and it fills his skull. It wasn’t quite human, like it was a pile of goo that was regaining its strength and slowly rebuilding itself into a human. Into a phantom.

They stare at one another, his laughter taunts Link. Link can hear his heartbeat in his ears. His palms start to sweat. He is met with the images of three weeks ago. The battle, the castle, the evil.

Ganon.

Or at least some form of him.

He doesn’t move, he just laughs at Link. The boy swallows, and he wants to run, but he rolls his shoulders back.

“Courage and Bravery are two different things.” Zelda’s words ring in his memory.

He grabs his sword.

The Master Sword unsheathes with a light ring, and it glows in the darkness.

In an instant, the monster is screeching and howling like a Lynel and melting away from the light of the sword. The pure power of the holy blade made the beast slowly melt into the ground, like an ice cube in the desert. It covered its eyes, and screlted into the forest, echoing no doubt into town.

Link walked closer to it, waving the blade, spinning it in his hand until the creature was completely put away.

Whatever that was, it isn’t very strong. It will surely get stronger, though. Link had a feeling this was not the end of it. It left behind a puddle of goop. Link’s stomach dropped when he realized why it was killing for sport and in pairs of two. It was probably seeking Him and Zelda. Unable to differentiate what living things were hylian and what was cattle or animals. The stealing of the eyes surely had something to do with it regaining its strength, but what?

How did it know to come look in Hateno already?

After sheathing the sword and thanking the Goddess, Link took a moment to bury the secretment. He still felt sick to his stomach. Why did he freeze up like that?

Maybe that final battle had more of an effect on him than he thought.

He heads home, explaining to Dantz what had happened and what he saw, sugar-coating it a little and just saying it was a ghost. Link wasn’t sure how long it would stay away for, but hopefully long enough he could talk to Impa about it. Clearly the Master Sword was protecting him. He made a special effort to avoid Savi.

When he gets home, he drops his equipment off, pulling his gloves and boots off and leaving it all in his little corner downstairs. He pulls his shirt off. He would sleep out with Epona again tonight, he would need to to avoid the nightmares. His Mare had that effect on him. The feeling of safety and home.

Zelda was asleep, snoring lightly in her bed. He stayed quiet and went to sit at the table, grabbing a baked apple to silence his rumbling stomach. Guilt washed over him as he remembered what he did today. Savi came onto him, but he knows he shouldn’t have let that happen. He was ashamed of his conduct.

The laughter of the phantom rang in his ears. Flashes of its grin and glowing eyes projected in his mind. He felt ill.

Link disassociated. He sat at the table for three hours and it went by in minutes.

What snaps him out of it are the screams of terror he hears from upstairs.

His mind immediately jumps to the worst possible situation. He grabs the master sword and sprints upstairs. He sees nothing but a scared girl, crying from a nightmare.

“Zelda, what is it?” He asks, setting the sword town and running to her. He kneels by her bed and takes her hand. “I’m here, what’s wrong.” He whispers.

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“B-but. The guardian, it got you. It killed-”

“It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real.” Link reassures her. “I’m here, breathing, alive as ever.”

Zelda shakes her head, she’s clearly so traumatized that she cannot differentiate dream from reality anymore, she probably thinks him saying that is the dream.

“Here, feel.” He grabs her hand and places it against his chest where his heart is. “Feel that?” He asks, “Bum-bum. Bum-bum.” He whispers. “That’s my heart. Its pumping, it's beating.” Zelda sobs and he pulls her into his chest. “It’s okay, I got you. I’m here.”

He holds her for a moment and then stands up, “I’ll get the stool if it will help you sleep.” He turns to go.

“Stay with me.” She asks, tears wetting his collarbone.

“I’ll be right here, I’ll grab the stool.” He says.

“No, stay with me.” She says, and gestures to the bed.

“What?”

“Please. I cannot sleep without you by my side. I’m too afraid I’m going to lose you again.” She sniffles.

“Zelda I can’t-“

“Why?” She asks. “Because of decorum? Because I’m royal? Because you don't want to get caught?” She picks up her hands ‘None of that matters anymore’ she signs.

Link nods, “Are you sure?”

“Please.” She pleads.

Link moves back to her, trying to control his racing heart. Zelda scoots over to she’s closer to the wall, and Link carefully crawls into the covers of the bed. There wasn’t a ton of room, there would be no way for them to lay in the bed without being in full contact. “Is this okay?” He asks as he pulls the covers up.

She nods.

“Hold me?” She asks.

Link looks at her and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to kiss her. He nods and lays his head down, his chest facing up. He pulls her into his chest, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders and his right arm over his stomach to her waist. She tries to control her breathing, and it gets easier as their hearts begin to sync up.

Link wants to cry too, because this is the safest he has felt in a hundred and three years. This is the most at home he has ever been. He mentally-pinches himself because he’s sure he’s dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up, in fact, he starts to fall into the deepest sleep he’s ever had.

Every muscle in his body starts to relax, his eyes get heavy, and the scent of the girl on his chest fills his dreams with images of fairy forests and gentle ocean waves and the time of day when the sun moves into twilight.

This is home.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙9

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, general creepiness

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Yes I updated this outta no where lol.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Masterlist

You ate in silence, unsure of what to say, unsure of Andy. You felt him still and the tingly shadow of his touch made you sick. He watched you, unspoken thoughts behind his blue eyes, his anxiety showed in the way he scratched his beard and chewed without tasting. You stood to rinse off your empty plate but he kept you from moving past the table.

He met you and took your dish, “I’ll get it,” he said, “The doctor said you need to take it easy.”

“I can wash a plate, Andy,” you insisted as you reached for the porcelain.

“No,” he swatted your hand down, “go, relax. Let me take care of you.”

You squinted at him and searched his face; his squared jaw, the vein along his forehead that always popped out when he was frustrated, his thick brows without tension as he watched you placidly. You dropped your hand and backed away. He turned and put your plate on top of his. He paused and rubbed his fingertips with his thumb; the two he’d used on you.

You backed away in revulsion and left him in the dining room. You went to the couch and grabbed the remote. You put it back on the television stand and headed for the stairs. You couldn’t shake what he’d done. It was all you could think of.

You closed yourself in the guest room. Not your room, the room he allowed you. You had to remind yourself of that reality. Andy was still a stranger, he let you under his roof because a stupid mistake, he was married, even his wife was comatose. He wasn’t your husband and you didn’t want him to be. He was the father of your child by the grace of your bad luck.

You loaded up a season of an old sitcom on your laptop and sat it beside you on the bed. You laid back and rubbed your stomach, satisfied but precarious. Your nausea came and went but your aches and pains were more and more constant. You groaned and laid on your side, the blankets drawn up to your chest as you tried to lose yourself in the dialogue you knew almost by rote.

You heard Andy climb the stairs. He stopped by your door but didn’t open it, even as you held your breath in anticipation. His door clicked and shortly that of the conjoined bathroom opened. The showerhead whined and the pipes buzzed. You felt the humid warmth seep from beneath the door. You kept your back to it and turned up the volume.

When the shower stopped, you could hear his soft movements. You smelled his woodsy body wash and the clean scent of shampoo. The mirror unclasped as he opened it and he turned on the sink faucet. As much as you wanted to pretend he wasn’t there, he had to make himself known.

Then the knock made you flinch. Your heart stuttered and you wiggled down further on the bed. You pulled the blanket over your shoulder and huddled into the pillow. You closed your eyes and pretended to sleep as he knocked again.

“You need anything?” he asked through the wood.

You still didn’t answer. If you told him what you needed was for him to leave you alone, that wouldn’t help either of you. You turned your head down and waited. The clasp of the door clicked and you felt the subtle breeze of the door opening. You tensed as his light footsteps neared you; cautious and careful.

You felt him behind you. His fingers tickled your sleeve and he gripped your shoulder more firmly. You fought to stay still, not to show that you knew. He turned and sat on the edge of the bed as he rubbed your arm. He sighed and his hand slipped down to your stomach. He spread his long fingers across your middle.

He stayed like that for a moment then stood again. He strode around the foot of the bed and closed your laptop. The laugh track died and you saw him through the thin slit of your eyelids. He wore nothing but the towel around his waist. His stomach was lined with muscle and his arms were muscled and firm. He hesitated then retraced his path.

The bathroom door closed behind him and his feet continued across the tile. His door closed in kind and you let out your breath. You had almost five months left in this prison and your warden was not going to ease up any time soon.

🌙

Your new life, your new sentence, fell into routine quickly. You woke up, sometimes sick, you ate as Andy readied for work, you argued or sat silently, he left, and you wandered the house restlessly, or walked down the street in a similar state, you ate again, he came home, you tried to busy yourself with chores when he allowed it, then sat for dinner, and made an excuse to retreat for bed.

He hadn’t touched you again, not like he had. He rubbed your shoulders, your hips when you let him, but you kept your distance mostly. His ring remained gone and his eyes clung to you longer, staring, thinking, but never saying what was behind them.

Another appointment and you sat beside him. Your leg jiggled anxiously and he grabbed your knee to still it. You apologized and as was becoming your habit, rested your hand on your growing bump. Your shirts were too tight now and he’d lent you one of his, though it was too loose around the shoulder and too long at the bottom.

“I know you’re not a Sox fan,” he nodded to the emblem on your chest, “we’ll have to get you something more you. Something that fits.”

“It’s fine, I’ll hit the goodwill and--”

“No, you won’t,” he said pointedly, “you’re not gonna be wearing hand-me-downs.”

“I won’t need them after… hopefully, so why--”

Your name was called by the nurse and Andy stood before you, as edgy as you but not as obvious about it. He grabbed your arm and helped you to your feet. You wiggled free of his grasp and he followed behind you as you went with the nurse. She sat to ask you some questions, took your vitals, then handed you a gown.

“The doctor will be in soon for the ultrasound,” she said, “just get on the bed and wait.”

You smiled and she left. You looked at Andy as he sat in the chair beside the bed and twiddled his fingers on his thigh. He shifted and glanced at you.

“Think we find out today,” he smiled.

“Find out?” you neared the open bathroom door.

“If it’s a boy or a girl,” he said, “I’ve been thinking, I… a girl would be nice.”

You gulped, speechless. You hadn’t been thinking about that. Not at all. Another sign you were completely unready. You turned and shut yourself in the bathroom to change. When you were done, you came out and got on the bed. Andy stood to help but you shooed him away, tired of him thinking you incapable of anything.

You laid back and puffed. He reached for your hand and squeezed, “you okay?”

You stared at his grip but didn’t pull away, “fine.”

“You know, you don’t have to be so shy. I mean, considering what happened in that stall--”

“Andy,” you rolled your eyes, “enough, okay? I just wanna get this over with.”

He was quiet for a minute then let go of your hand. “Get what over with? The appointment or the pregnancy?”

Both, you thought. You looked to the window and let the glare of the sun make your eyes well, “why do you do that?”

“Do what?” he asked.

“You make everything a fight,” you looked straight ahead and let your shoulders slump in defeat, “I’m so done with it.”

“I don’t mean to, I worry and… you don’t talk to me.”

“You don’t listen so why should I?” you threw your hands up, “please, I don’t wanna do this right now.”

He nodded and crossed his arms. The rigid silence returned but shattered as a knock came at the door and the doctor entered. Dr. Xiu smiled and rolled up the stool as she held your chart.

“Well, I heard about your little visit to emerge,” she began, “but your vitals are looking great.”

You listened as Andy leaned forward intently.

“We’ll just get a look inside today, make sure everything is where it should be,” she said, “maybe even see if it’s a boy or a girl, if you’re curious?”

“Alright,” you fidgeted and she closed your chart, “yeah, I’d rather know.”

“I’ll call for the radiologist then we can begin,” she went to the phone and dialed an extension, saying a few words into the receiver before replacing it.

She closed the shutters over the window and stood by the door as another figure in scrubs entered. The technician introduced herself as Lacey and pulled the ultrasound machine nearer as she claimed the stool. Andy touched your shoulder as he leaned on the bed.

Lacey warned you the gel might be cold but you still winced as she squirted it onto your stomach and spread it with the wand. She pressed firmly as she moved it around, searching. She watched the screen closely and smiled.

“Ah, right here,” she pointed to the little blob, though you could hardly tell one shape from the rest, “that’s your baby.”

Andy squeezed your shoulder and stared at the screen. His lips parted as if in a trance and Lacey moved the wand again.

“And… it’s…” she dragged out her words, “a baby girl.”

Andy exhaled loudly and you were surprised as he bent over to kiss your temple. You didn’t show how uncomfortable you were and he smiled at the screen again.

“A girl,” he said, “amazing.”

“She’s looking good,” Lacey said, “we’ll send some images for closer inspection but I see nothing to be concerned about.”

You took a breath and she pulled the wand away. She wiped you up with the rough white towel and left it with you to do the rest as she cleaned the wand. Lacey and Dr. Xiu left you to get dressed and be on your way. You sat up and finished mopping up the gel.

“Well, you called it,” you said as you tossed the towel in the linen hamper.

“Aren’t you excited?” he asked.

“Excited?” you gave a brittle smile, “more scared.”

“Why? Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Andy,” you breathed as you headed for the restroom to get out of the gown, “you’ve helped me. A lot. You can’t help this.”

You pursed your lips and closed the door. You stared in the mirror as you changed, the grey shirt hung from you but your stomach was still visibly round. You pulled on your hoodie, unable to zip it up and balled up the flowered gown. A daughter, great. Now it was even more real. Even more terrifying.

🌙

After your appointment, you stood in the elevator and the ding of each floor lulled your exhausted mind. You just wanted to go home and lay down. You hated how even the smallest outing drained you. You hated how weak you felt. You hated how the man beside you kept grabbing at your hand.

The doors opened and Andy pulled you forward. You stopped and he kept his arm in front of the door as he looked back at you. You stared at the lit up number.

“This is the wrong floor,” you said, “we went up.”

“No, it’s not,” he reached for you again and you evaded him.

“Andy, what’s going on?”

“Come on,” he said, “you’re holding the elevator up.”

You peeked around at the several riders who tried not to stare as their faces were painted with their impatience. You stepped off and grabbed Andy’s arm without thinking as you read the sign that pointed down the east wing; Intensive Care Unit.

“Why are we here?” you asked thinly.

He was quiet. You watched his throat bob and he twisted his hand to take yours. He pushed his fingers between yours and led you through the halls. He knew the place, knew where he was going. The elation that had dusted his cheeks with pink faded and now he was pale with grief.

“No,” you gasped in realisation and tried to plant your feet, “Andy, don’t-- I can’t--”

“It’s fine,” he said as he tugged you. You stumbled forward as he didn’t let up.

“No, it’s not. Your wife--”

“My wife is dead,” he hissed as he turned on you, “she’s been dead for more than a year. She’s nothing, just… a body. It’s not her, it’s the machines. She’s gone. I’ve known that.”

“Please, I--” you took a shaky breath, “I can’t be here--”

“You have to,” he said, “you have to be here,” he looked down and shook his head, “I don’t have anyone else.”

Your heart dropped. This man, this hardened lawyer, your keeper, was suddenly all too human. You frowned and ran your thumb along his, “okay,” you whispered, “okay, we’ll see her.”

His cheek twitched but he didn’t look at you. He turned down the hall and you let him lead you around the corner. He greeted the woman at the square desk, “Barber, room 304, Dr. Landau is expecting me for 1:15.”

“Mr. Barber,” she read off her computer, “yes, I’ll page him. If you want to go wait there.”

She gave a pitiful smile and you walked along dumbly. All these months, this is what Andy did. He walked those sterile halls and sat with his lifeless wife, listened to the beeps of her only supports on the mournfully silent floor. He opened the door and let go of you as he entered. 

You trailed behind as he went to her bed. He stared at her, her pale skin, her dark hair, a husk as the wires at her wrists and nose, the tube down her throat, were all that kept her body going. You stood beside the door and folded your hands over your chest.

“I’m sorry, Andy,” you said quietly.

He looked back at you but you were startled by his expression. You expected sadness or pain, even anger. He was blank and almost mechanical in his movements as he turned back to her again. He touched her cheek then quickly retracted his hand.

A knock came on the open door and a man in a white coat appeared, his white hair was wispy and wild.

“Andrew,” he greeted Andy with a handshake then eyed you curiously, “and you brought--”

“A friend,” Andy said and gave your name as he took the doctor’s hand, “didn’t wanna be alone.”

“I understand,” Dr. Landau said grimly, “it’s… always a difficult situation. Knowing when it’s going to end.”

“It’s better this way,” Andy said, “her family can be at peace now. Me, too.”

“It’s a tough decision but it’s not made lightly. Andrew, there’s no one, even me, who can say you’re wrong.”

“Thank you,” he sniffed and backed away from the bed, “I’m ready. I said goodbye.”

“Let me get the technicians and we’ll start the process,” Landau clapped Andy’s shoulder before he could pass, then the doctor turned to face you, “you’re a good friend to see him through this.”

You just nodded, unsure of what to say. You were bowled over at the situation and as the realisation of what was about to happen descended on you, your legs went weak. You leaned against the wall as Andy grabbed your hand and stood beside you.

“Please,” Landau gestured past you, “sit, if you need.”

You didn’t move as the doctor left. Andy pulled on you until your legs responded and you walked blindly with him to the pair of chairs against the wall. You sat and he took his hand from yours to rub your back.

“You okay? Nauseous?” he asked, “your hips bugging you again?”

“Andy,” your lip trembled, “why did you bring me here for this?”

His eyes searched yours and he smiled at you as if you were dumb, “so we can move on. So we can start our family.”

[thesightstoshowyou]

Jason Voorhees x Reader

Part 4 - End

Read Part 3 here

Warnings: Mentions of previous violence

 ~~

             Your fingers tap against the mug in your hands, nails clicking rhythmically against ceramic. You set the mug on your railing to shove your hands in your pockets. It’s colder this morning. You wear a sweater to protect yourself from the crisp breeze that rushes through the grass and trees. More and more leaves, red, gold, and orange, flutter around the clearing to gather in piles on the ground.

             Out of the corner of your eye you glance at the latest gift resting on your top step. Sticks carefully bent into a circle hold brilliant fall leaves intricately woven between the curved wood to create a wreath. You’re amazed by the skill, honestly. It’s astounding hands so adept at reaping could also create something so delicate.

             The wreath is one of many gifts you’ve received over the past month and a half. After the flowers came a bundle of fishing lures soldered together in the shape of a fish. Next was an intricate wood carving of a canoe. Then came three rocks, each with a detailed painting of a different tree adorning its surface. Each gift you have received after has been crafted with the same patience and skill as the others before them. Jason is certainly an artist.

             You close your eyes, inhaling the scent of decaying leaves and sharp, chilly air. Jason hasn’t tried to enter your home again, as far as you’re aware. You’ve made sure to be inside before sundown with your doors securely locked. Not that a door would be able to stop him, but it helps your peace of mind.

             By now, you’re fairly certain he doesn’t want to hurt you. If he had, it would have happened by now. You’re still not sure what to think of the whole situation, but if the creative gifts are anything to go by, you believe he is nursing some kind of crush.

             So…what do you do? Do you continue to do nothing, ignore it, and accept the gifts as they come? You don’t imagine this can go on forever. Eventually he will come looking for you.

             Sighing, you drain the remainder of your coffee and make your way inside to place it in the sink. You return to the porch to retrieve the wreath. Carefully, you affix it to your front door. A wry smile crosses your face. It is very pretty.

*

             The next morning you rise before the sun. You don your jeans, flannel, boots, hat, and a light jacket. Pancake fixes you with his biggest puppy dog eyes as you lock him in the house.

             “Sorry, bud. I have to do this one alone.”

             As you enter the forest, you’re struck with how still the air feels. No branches sway in the breeze, no birds sing, no squirrels skitter in the undergrowth. The only sound is the stomp of your boots on rotting foliage and the occasional rustle of a leaf parting from its tree and tumbling to the forest floor.

             Your breath curls white before you as you walk and you shrug deeper into your jacket, partly from the chill, partly from nerves. Your skin crawls, the fine hairs on your arms all standing on end. You’re being watched, you’re certain. Or hunted. In the hush of the dark it takes all the resolve you possess not to bolt like a frightened rabbit.

             Finally, the sun begins to rise. Rays of light shimmer through the trees, alighting the forest around you in spectacular hues of gold and orange. Birds wake and rustle in their nests, squawking their morning greetings. The noise is a relief. It grounds you, brings you back from the silent purgatory that is a forest at night.

             You make it to Camp Crystal Lake unscathed, save for your frayed nerves. You tell yourself there’s nothing to be afraid of. Probably.

             As you pace through camp you can find no evidence of the massacre from weeks ago. It is picturesque, leaves raining down around you, the sun glimmering off the lake, snug cabins framed by the changing trees. It would be a nice place to live. You can almost understand why Jason guards it so fiercely.

             You circle around camp, peeking through the dusty windows of the abandoned cabins as you go. You wonder where he’s been staying. Does he even need to sleep, or a roof over his head? Or does he prefer to rest outdoors, the moon and stars his only companions?

             Once you’ve searched as far as you can, you turn back. You wonder where else he could be, if not here. Should you call for him? He can’t be far. You’re certain it was Jason watching you in the woods on your way here.

             He’s not here, then suddenly he is. You freeze in your tracks when you spot him, standing intimidatingly at the edge of the lake. Your heart pounds, whacking against your ribs like it’s trying to break free. Breath trembling in your throat, you swallow.

             “Jason. Um, hi. I wanted…to…to uh, thank you for the, uh…the gifts.” You wait. He says nothing. Your panic rises, blood rushing in your ears, nervous butterflies seizing in your gut. Then, he begins to move toward you, slowly, his steps measured. He’s trying not to frighten you.

             He stops in the shade under a massive alder tree several feet away. He waits, waits for you. He’s letting you make the decision to come to him.

             Your approach is just as cautious. Each step is more difficult that the last, like your trudging through knee-deep mud. You pause, releasing a tremulous breath before stepping out of the weak sunlight to join him in the shadows.

             Jason towers over you. He stands so still you might mistake him for a statue if you hadn’t already seen him move. You can finally see the eyes behind the dingy mask; one is hazel, almost gold like the leaves of the tree above you, the other milky white. He watches you closely, intently with his good eye. The skin of his neck is a strange mottled gray. You wonder his face is the same. Is that why he wears the mask?

             Without meaning to, your eyes flick down to the unsheathed machete hanging menacingly from his belt. You suppress a shudder when you remember how it had looked that night, bathed in blood. The hand next to the handle is relaxed, limp. He doesn’t intend to use the blade.

             You meet Jason’s unblinking gaze again. He hasn’t budged, hasn’t made a sound. He waits for you to speak or make the first move.

             Slowly you reach out, hand trembling. You close the distance between you gradually, painstakingly, as though he is some wild beast that might startle. Maybe he is.

             At last, your hand rests on his chest. There’s no heartbeat, not that you expect one, but it’s still jarring. Not being able to feel the thump, thumping of a beating heart is so foreign, so wrong. Again, you wonder what he is, how he came to be. Was his desire for vengeance so strong he defied death entirely? Or is it a curse that keeps him going, forces him to become the unrelenting specter of Crystal Lake?

             You startle when he moves. He lifts his arms just as slowly as you had. Almost timidly, he places both of his gloved hands over yours, cradling your palm to his chest.

             There’s no heartbeat, but there is a person inside none the less.

The End

 ~~

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading this little story! It was a challenge for me to not write smut, so I’m pretty proud of what I’ve produced lol. I may revisit these two in the future with some drabbles here and there. Please let me know what you thought. I appreciate your interest.

[clownistyping]

A Witch and A Hick

'Meet cute nasty.'

Hi! I'm back kinda? I'm just here to post this lil self insert story of me and Lester Sinclair from House of Wax. He doesn't get enough love and I wanna kiss him so much.

I may change the title, is Lester a Hick????? He can be if you don't think to hard about it. Idk how many chapters this'll be bc its just me writing lol. This also got up to almost 2k words so 😳😳

Also @darling-disastrous here it is uwu

The vans brakes squeal as the girl presses down on them, Elizabeth Mayfield bounced back from the vans push. Her hair covers her face, It's filled with leaves, crystals and hair wraps on single strands. 

"Oh shut it Chariot." She grumbles and smacks the steering wheel, putting the van in park as she looks around her surroundings. 

Parked in a gas station parking lot, barely anybody around and the moon is high and bright, 

"Good night for a reading huh?" She turns to ask the dog in the back of the van. Who raises his head from the mattress in the back, the mutt puts his head back down. Turning on the roof light as she walks, 

"Move over, Mac." She grabs the cards from her bag. Pushing past the hanging crystals and dreamcatchers, she sits next to the dog. 

She hums and closes her eyes as she shuffles the cards. Letting her mind empty itself, her breathing is in sync with the dogs. Setting the cards in a pile of four, she draws the first card. It tells her what's at hand, seven of cups. She raises a brow, 

"Love?" She looks at her dog who sniffs her wrist covered in homemade bracelets, she smiles. Her face heating up, 

"Love." 

The second card speaks of the past and how it's changed her, six of cups reversed. 

"Try to be easy going, I was and I am." She puts the card back in the stack and pulls the 3rd, this will offer her food for thought. 

The high priestess shows, 

"Act more on feelings than facts. Is what I'm doing not enough?" She gestures to her van, hinting at her traveling lifestyle. 

"Is this what you're referencing to?" She lifts the seven of cups and places the two cards down together. Shaking her head she lifts the final card, which tells her a course of action she can take. The chariot arrives in her hand. 

"Again, is what I'm doing not enough?" She says out loud, 

"I named the van after this card. Come on give me a break." She says to no one but Mac listens. 

"Should we go further?" She pets the mutt who leans into her hand, 

"Maybe somewhere, where nobody will bother us." She mumbles and lays on the mattress, 

"Maybe I can be a forest witch," she mumbles and closes her eyes, letting sleep take over. 

Lester spits on the ground, he looks up at the bright moon as it shines through the woods. The music plays gently in the background, 

He hums along with the tune of 'season of the witch.' And pats his thighs to the rhythm, 

"Purdy night ain't it, Jonesy?" He asks the dog that sits on the back of the truck with him. She licks his face and he laughs. 

The sun peeks through the back doors, waking the girl in the van. She hums and sits up, Mac is standing in front of her ready to go. 

"Good idea." She says and takes him out to use the bathroom. When she puts Mac back in the van she tries to figure out where she is exactly. 

She knows she's landed herself in Louisiana, but most of the state looks the same. So she heads in the gas station, In the traffic mirror hanging above the entrance she gets a glimpse of herself. 

Elizabeth wears a long black slitted skirt, both sides are cut and her legs show when she walks. Her tank is wrinkled and her shawl is tempted to fall from her shoulders, she fixes it quickly and holds her side bag close. 

"Can I help you?" The cashier, an older woman asks and Elizabeth blinks. Back in reality, she nods. 

"Actually yes, two things. Where am I?" She asks and the woman points to the pamphlets nearby, 

"Smallwood. Okay, and uh can I use your bathroom?" 

"Gotta buy something first." The woman huffs and Elizabeth quickly searches for some travel food and drinks, 

Her only source of income is tarot reading strangers and selling the jewelry she makes. Not a lot but enough if you make the prices almost criminal. 

Grabbing some powdered donuts, quickly she pays for them and runs to the bathroom. Quickly she fixes herself up, putting on dark eyeliner only to smudge it and swiping on dark lip gloss. She smiles at her dark makeup, it simply makes her happy. Stepping out the bathroom quietly, in hopes of not gaining any attention she tries to leave silently. 

But her eyes catch a drink, staring at the energy drink from the fridge. She looks up at the cashier who's glaring at her. 

In a flash Elizabeth quickly snatches the drink and runs from the building, Mac barks from in the van and the woman hollers. 

"Get back here you freak!" The cashier screams and Elizabeth laughs as she runs. The needed adrenaline pumping through her, slamming the van open she gets in. 

Grabbing her keys, the van sputters and spits. 

"Come on, Chariot! Come on!" Elizabeth yells as she turns the key, the van rumbles as the cashier starts to run towards it. 

"Lets go!" Elizabeth yells as the van roars to life, slamming on the gas Mac is pushed back on the mattress and quickly the van escapes the parking lot with the screaming of its tires. 

Elizabeth doesn't slow the van until she reaches a wooded area, trees tower over the colorful van as it fails to blend in. But they're miles from the gas station and coming down from the high speed. 

"Cheers." Elizabeth raises the energy drink and Mac licks it, she laughs and opens it. 

The drink sprays all over the girls face immediately upon opening. She spits out the blueberry flavor and Mac licks her face all over, laughing she pushes the dog back. 

"I get it! That was well deserved karma!" She yells yells the universe,

Suddenly the van spits and sputters. 

"Oh no." She whispers and the engine cuts itself off. 

"No! Baby please!" She hollers and slams on the steering wheel, 

"Is this my karma?" She whispers and leans into her sticky seat, 

"I regret nothing." She says and sips her drink, Mac pants next to her. He breathes a disgusting smell. 

The two sit as the girl finishes her drink, she cringes as the sticky feeling on her face. 

"I can handle a lot of things," she starts, looking at Mac and then the bones she collects all scattered in the van. 

"But I can't handle a facial." She laughs and gets out of the van, Mac jumps out with her and sniffs the new ground. Elizabeth grabs the water from the back she runs it over her face, washing away the substance. Once the feeling of soda was gone Elizabeth checks her face in the side mirror. 

Her eyeliner was running, she shrugs. 

"Tell me, Mac. How do I look?" She turns, expecting her dog. 

"Mac?" She says and looks around, the dog stands in the distance. His head raised as he sniffs the area, Elizabeth cups her mouth and yells. 

"Hey, Get back here!" Mac looks at her and quickly sprints away towards the scent. 

Elizabeth groans and quickly runs after the speeding dog. But he's quickly lost in the weeds of Louisiana. 

"Mac!" She calls out and hears no response, but a rotting smell hits her. She doesn't flinch, after willingly tearing through dead animals for a good bone. She's numb to the smell. 

And now she knows where that damn dog is headed. 

Stomping her way through the thickets, she tries to keep calm her fingers absent-mindedly fidgeting with her silver coin necklace. 

"Well hey there buddy, where you come from?" Elizabeth hears a voice say and she follows it. 

"Alright load up!" Lester says and opens the passenger door of the truck, Jonesy quickly hopes in the truck and sits down. Ready to ride. In the back is another deer carcass, along with a vulture he accidentally hit. Lester taps his hands against the wheel as the music plays, Johnny Cash sings Ring of Fire on the radio, the chorus sings and Lester joins. 

"And it burns, burns burns! The ring of fire!" Lester sings off key and Jonesey howls with him. 

"If I could, I'd be in a band, Jonesy." The dog licks Lester's face and he laughs, 

"Ah you're right, my ugly mug don't belong on no stage. I'm happy right here." He kisses the dogs head and she barks.  

Lester drives down the bumpy pathway that leads him to the roadkill pit, he always checks to see if any strays show. His heart is soft for animals without a home, he likes to gain their trust. Make them feel safe while also being independent. 

"Think we'll find anything?" Lester asks and backs the truck up to face the pit. As the two leave the truck, Lester hears movement from the hole. Turning towards it he smiles when he sees a collared dog sniffing around the carcasses. 

"Well hey there buddy, where you come from?" 

The dog looks up, his mouth full of the meat. 

"Oh come on you don't wanna be eating that old meat." Lester pats his thighs, 

"I got some good eatin at my place if you wanna come with." Lester smiles and the dog stumbles his way through the pile, Jonesey sniffs the mutts face and licks it clean, the new dog pounces and the two quickly engage in play. 

"Well ain't that sweet, already made a friend huh, Jonesy?" 

Lester says, he lets the two play and opens the back of his truck. Tossing out the carcasses, he then opens the passenger door. 

"Alright you two, let's get going!" Lester pats the door and Jonesy was quick to jump in. 

The new dog stood in place and sat, 

"Oh come on boy, don't be shy." Lester whistles, 

"HEY!" Lester looks up, above the cliff he heard the voice. 

"THAT'S MY DOG!" The person yells and Lester sees the stranger, the said dog barks at the voice. 

A girl wearing dark flowy clothes, her face covered in runny makeup. 

"Hey, watch out!" Lester calls out and suddenly the girl fell off the cliff. 

[honeypirate]

Figure it Out part five

Hinawa x fem reader

Masterlist

The one where stuff happens and the mission isn’t canon I’m just excited to finish the next part where reader is alone for a week lol

this one is longer and more fluffy

Warning- swears.

You groan and hold your throbbing side gingerly, you change into your jumpsuit and tie the sleeves around your waist, leaving on Hinawa’s shirt. you grab one of your pills and your water and slip out the door, following behind the others.

“I like your shirt” he says, voice quiet so only you hear it as he appears behind you. He must have left his room shortly after the time you left yours. you smile and look down, your cheeks flushing “thank you, I think it looks good on me. It belongs to a very amazing man I know.” you say quietly back, your heart fluttering at his chuckle. “I’m sure he enjoys seeing you in it very much” you don’t know when he got so bold, was it because of this morning in bed? You weren't complaining tho, it felt nice to flirt with him a little more obviously.

“Well, he’s my best friend, so if he likes seeing me in his clothes he should tell me.” you whisper back and send a smile over your shoulder as you reach the right door, he opens it for you and you smile in thanks, as you walk past him he leans in to your ear and whispers “I love it” you grin, your cheeks flushing again and your arms getting goosebumps. You sit down at the table and he makes his way over to Obi, who’s pretending like he didn’t see your interaction and trying to pretend like it didn’t make him happy. He was scribbling notes about it to tell everyone later (you guys are like the romance soap opera of the company everyone’s watching and waiting)

You take your pill and set your water on the table, when you look up to Hinawa it’s then you know the mission is big. His face looks grim. You frown and your eyebrows furrow as you wait for the meeting to start.

The mission is in the Chinese peninsula. And you’re not invited. You sigh, you would be invited but since you can’t go because you’re injured, you’re on house sitting duty. You make a mental note to write a letter to your grandma for them to deliver. The seventh, you were told, would be around to help if any infernals come along.

The rest of your day passed slowly, everyone else had things to do to prepare but you couldn’t do anything in your condition. You do some paperwork and write your letters before deciding to just stay out of the way, grabbing a book from your room you head to the roof to at least enjoy the sunshine.

You sit on the roof with your back against the wall, your legs crossed, the warm sun on your face warming the coldness you felt in your soul.

You read your book until the sun began to set, but when you tried to get up, the strain made your wound hurt and pulled at your stitches. You winced as you kept trying, maybe if you could get your knees under you, but everything you tried pulled it and made you whine. When you ultimately gave up, you were panting from the pain and you still didn’t know if you could get up by yourself.

You huffed and tried to think of a plan, do you just wait for someone to find you? Should you try to get someone’s attention? Call for help? You sighed with relief when the door opened

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you” Hinawa said as he came over to where you were sitting, he watched as the panic in your eyes gave way to relief as you looked up at him “do you wanna sit with me for a moment?” You ask with a smile and he nods, when he settles in beside you his hand reaches out to rest against your thigh and you lace your fingers through his, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Sorry if I worried you.” you say and he chuckles softly, relishing the feel of your cheeks warmed from the sun against his shoulder, he squeezes your hand before bringing it to his lips “I’m glad you’re okay” he says as he kisses your knuckles. your cheeks flushed and you chuckled softly “I don’t know if I’m that okay...I can’t get up now, it pulls my stitches” he sighs softly, not in annoyance just a soft sound conveying how grateful he was to find you so you didn’t hurt yourself. He doesn’t say anything, just turns to kiss your head.

“You leave in the morning?” You ask, your voice quiet. “Yes” he says, and his grip on your hand tightens slightly “will you stay with me again tonight?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid that if you asked any louder it would give away how worried you were that he’d say....

“No” he said and you lifted your head and tensed for a moment before he turned his head towards you with a chuckle “we’re staying in my bigger bed, remember?” You gasp and laugh raising your other hand and slapping his chest lightly as he laughs, reaching up with his other hand to cup your cheek.

“So we’ll stay together tonight?” You ask, he could see the worry in your eyes and he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours “stay with me tonight.” he says and your cheeks flush, your heart fluttering against your ribs. Your hand moves from his chest to rest against the back of his neck, your fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

He sighs, a soft comforting sound, before pulling back to look at you again, smiling at the sight. Your pupils were slightly dilated and you had the softest of smiles, it made his heart squeeze to see the blush on your beautiful cheeks. He smiles, a soft pleased chuckle falling from his lips before he’s leaning down to bring his lips a breadth away from yours, you suck in a slow gasp your hand moving to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing across his skin as you close the distances, your lips brushing his just slightly before pulling back, your heart rising in your chest as it races. “There you guys are!” Maki says from the doorway and you’re both scrambling away from each other.

You groan, your hand moving to hold your side as you wince, your eyes closing as you breathe through your teeth. “Obi’s called another meeting” she says and then she’s gone again, feeling uncomfortable about catching you guys basically kissing. “Guess we should go” you say, your voice strained and eyes screwed shut as you wait for the pain to subside. This line, the line that you have been dancing around for days, the unspoken feelings that were obvious to everyone, would have to wait. Again.

He stands and crouches next to you, gently moving your hand to see the wet patch of blood seeping through the dark shirt. Your eyes pop open and meet his as you raise a blood smeared finger at him “this isn’t because I laughed so you have to keep your promise still” he chuckles “let’s go” he says, kicking himself for being part of the reason you were bleeding again and easily lifts you to his arms, your hands moving to wrap around his neck to keep you stable.

He doesn’t set you down on your feet like you expect, he instead keeps you in his arms as he opens the door, carrying you down to his room instead of to the meeting. He sets you down on the edge of his bed and gestures to your shirt as he grabs the first aid kit and another one of his shirts, laying them both beside you on the bed.

You move your hand up to hold your neck, just so your arm could be out of the way as he cleaned you up and rebandaged you. “Hey what’s that?” You ask, your voice quiet. “What?” His eyes look to you before following your eyes to the corner of his room, landing on a brand new guitar. “Oh. That was your surprise that I forgot to give you since we were in the hospital” you gasp “you got me a guitar?” You whisper and finishes placing the tape on the bandage before pulling back and looking in your eyes “I wanted to hear you play it” you smile and cup his cheek “so it’s just purely selfish reasons why you got me a gift?” You tease and he chuckles, his fingers resting softly on your side under your bandage. “My selfish desperation to make you smile” he whispers, worry and hope both fighting in his eyes.

He pulls back to shake out his folded shirt, holding it up for you to slip your arms into. You blush and look down and as you allow him to help you dress again, feeling safe and taken care of. “Thank you” you whisper as he finishes pulling it down, you look up into his eyes and hope he sees exactly what youre feeling. Safe, comforted, cared for, loved. Hope he saw how truly grateful you were to have him taking care of you. How much you wanted to kiss him properly. He tucks your hair behind your ear with a single nod, “you’re welcome. We should get to the meeting” you take his waiting hand and stand “can’t make the lieutenant be late” you say with a laugh and he sighs softly with a smile. He was terrified of how good you make him feel, but he couldn’t help but run headfirst towards that.

“Okay. So let’s go over the plan again. everyone excluding Hinawa, Y/n because her injury, and me, are heading to the Chinese peninsula in the morning. Hinawa and I will be leaving shortly after to stay in the First to complete our mission on finding more out about Amaterasu. We will all come back here in a week. While we’re gone,Y/n, you’re in charge here. Vulcan will walk you through the surveillance equipment and alarm systems. I will have coms on us where you can reach us if it’s an emergency or if there are any infernals.If there are any infernals call the seventh they are prepared to help. If anything else happens you call the coms we have and Hinawa and I will come running ” you nod and swallow, not looking forward to having a week alone in this giant place, but you had no other choice. You nod at him and he goes through more details that you tuned out, chewing your lip as you sit there worrying. Hinawa watching you from the corner of his eyes, seeing the load of worry on your face made acid rise to the back of his throat since he couldn’t comfort you here. His hands on his lap pick at his cuticles as he participates in the meeting.

You exit the meeting first, slowly making your way down to your bedroom, your side throbbing has become worse as your medication wears off. Hinawa watches you leave but he was to do a few more things before he has to make dinner so he couldn’t follow.

You sit on the edge of your bed and sigh softly as you stare at the edge of your water glass, a drop slowly making its way back to the bottom after your drink, the pill still slowly sliding your throat and sticking. You take a another drink

“Hey can I talk to you?” Maki says as she knocks against your open door. You look up and smile, forcing your worry back. “of course. Come in” you say and she nods nervously and sits across from you at your desk chair. “What’s up?” You ask and she sighs, looking at the floor by your feet as her words come out rushed “I’m sorry for ruining your moment with the Lieutenant on the roof I feel so bad” you let out a few shocked laughs and she looks at you with raised eyebrows “Don’t worry about it Maki! Seriously.” You smile and she relaxes a little, letting out a breath. “Plus, I don’t even know if we know what’s happening yet. It’s new. But uhh.. have you told anyone else?” She shakes her head “no I haven’t” (she has. She’s told everyone. You’re the news in the company) you laugh “good. I just. It could turn out to be nothing at all. So I’d appreciate if it stayed between us for now. Maybe I could talk to you again when you get back? I could use a good girls night. We should do that when you all get back!” You reach out and pat her knee as she beams excitedly “of course totally... And yes that would be so fun! I’ll let the other girls know!”

A knock to your door frame makes you look over and you smile when you see him “Do you think you help me in the kitchen for a moment y/n?” Hinawa asks and you nod “of course. I’ll be right there.” He nods and waits in the hall as you say goodbye to Maki.

“Are you okay?” He asks once you’re by his side, Maki going in the other direction. “I’ll be okay” you say and he reaches over, taking your hand and placing it on the inside of his bicep as you walk together. A small act that warmed your heart and comforted you, making your cheeks flush. “Are you okay?” You ask back, looking up at him with a small smile as he holds the kitchen door open for you. “I’m always okay with you by my side” he whispers into your ear as you pass and it sends goosebumps down your neck. “Cheesy” you say with a laugh as he grabs the aprons. Placing one on himself before putting an apron around your head, leaning close as he reaches under your arms to gently tie the strings behind you. “But seriously” you say, placing your hand on his chest.

He places his hand on yours and smiles softly with a sigh “I worry more about you” he says softly and you blush “I promise I’ll be okay” you whisper with a smile and he kisses your forehead before turning towards the ingredients he has laid out already. “Consider this the Princess giving the Prince a week off of worrying about her” you say with a chuckle as you begin to cut up vegetables.

He coughs once as he feels his face flush, he almost forgot about the story he told you. He’s glad you’re not looking at the way he knows his face is red. “I don’t think that’s possible for this Prince” he whispers after a moment and you laugh softly before leaning over and kissing his shoulder on the seam of his t-shirt.

You don’t talk for the rest of the cooking, you both knew you just wanted to be close to each other before you’d be apart. Neither of you could admit that yet though, not confident in the new feelings, not ready to cross that line fully, especially now that you have to be apart for a week.

You hummed for the most part, different songs you could think of, melodies that brought Hinawa a sense of calm as he cooked beside you. If he closed his eyes he could see the years that you might have together, and that terrified the hell out of him.

Dinner was filled with laughter and conversation like always. Your little found family always makes your heart warm. You soaked in as much as you could, holding on to it all so you didn’t get too lonely while you were alone for the coming week.

You shower that night, gingerly washing your wound and letting the warm water soothe you. You put on some cotton black shorts and slowly slipped on a black sports bra that zips up the front before leaving the bathroom and knocking on Hinawa’s door. “Come in” he says and you pop your head through, your towel around your hair wobbling a little “can you bandage me up?” You ask and he laughs before standing from his desk, his bag that he was packing half packed with more contents around it. “Of course”

You sit on his bed again, reaching up to unwrap your hair as he comes over with the stuff. you hold up your arm again and he quickly patches you up “you’re so gentle with me” you whisper as he covers you with a bandage. His hands pause for a moment, his cheeks flushing as he pulls back into a crouch to look into your eyes “always” he whispers then tucks your damp hair behind your ear.

“Do you want a shirt?” He asks and you blush and reach out, placing a hand on his chest, looking at your fingertips as they trace the neckline “can I … have this one?” You whisper, your heart beat hammering so loud you’re sure it’s audible to even him. He chuckles softly and goes to stand but you follow him, standing in front of him you place your hands on his waist, your thumbs reaching under his hem as your palms rest against his belt. You search his eyes to see if he objects to you taking his shirt off but you find none, he smiles, his cheeks dusting pink, and nods.

Your fingers slide softly up his sides, sending goosebumps across his chest and back, as you push his shirt up. You bite your lip as his chest and stomach become bare, a soft sigh passing your lips as you pull the shirt softly over his head.

He takes his shirt from your hands and places it over your head, helping you slip it over your arms, his hands stopping and squeezing gently on your hips. You lean forward and place your hands on his chest, leaning your cheek on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Can I … can I sleep in your bed while you’re gone?” You ask and he chuckles against you “I wish you would” he says and kisses the top of your head. You turn your head and place your lips softly against his skin over his heart. Your arms wrap around his waist under his arms as you hold him as close as you can get him, hoping he can feel how much you don’t want to be alone this next week.

You bury your face in his neck and it smells like hint of sweat and his cologne, smelled ultimately like Hinawa to you and you loved it. You took a deep breath and sighed against him. “I should shower. I probably smell” he mumbles against you and you chuckle “no. You don’t. But you should because it’s getting late.” You pull back and cup his cheek for a moment, smiling at the blush that touched his cheeks. He cups your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip slowly and gently, making your heart flutter before he drops his hand “I’ll be right back” he says and you nod, moving over to place your towel across the back of his chair as he moves to grab clean clothes.

“You know” Obi says as Hinawa walks into the bathroom “we could just take her with us” Hinawa sighs “we could, but objectively we need someone here” nothing else was said about that or about the fact that Hinawa didn’t deny he was worried about you, or that Obi could tell he cares for you.

Hinawas bed had tan sheets and a black comforter, it was soft and warm and when you crawled into it you sighed in relief at how nice it was. It was a million times more comfortable than your bed. You almost stayed under the covers but you remembered your surprise and you popped back up, ignoring the slight stabbing of pain in your side as you snatch it up and drop down to sit cross legged on the floor.

The strings felt familiar in your hands and the chords came back to your memory easily. Slowly picking out the song you used to play over and over when you were first learning. You hum through the first line as you try to remember the words. Stopping and restarting strumming when you remember them “Could've been one lonely night. Just like the others. But you lit up my life. This is what it's like to be lovers” He smiles outside of his door, the sound of guitar strings being plucked and you soft voice reaching his ears before he even opens the door.

“You and me need never be lonely again Spin with me endlessly or at least until the end Please never fall in love again Oh, please never fall in love again”When he opens his door he smiles at the sigh of you sitting in his room playing a soft song with a sweet smile. You stopped playing and looked up at him when he walked in “are you ready for bed?” You ask and he nods “you play and sing beautifully. I hope you’ll play for me when I get back” you blush and place a hand on your cheek shyly “of course” he takes the guitar from your hands and places it back on its stand before gently scooping you up into his arms as you laugh “sorry I forgot I shouldn’t sit in the ground” you whisper and he smiles “I don’t mind”

He places you in his bed and then crawls in behind you, pulling the blankets up to your shoulders as he claps his hands gently, his lamp turning off.

You wait for a moment, then burst into laughter, trying so hard to stop as your hand reaches over to cup your side as your whole body tensed to try and not die in the pain that’s shooting across your ribs but the pain and groans don’t stop the laughter

When you calm down you reach behind you to him and cup his cheek “you have a clapper?!” You say with a small chuckle “you’re a grandpa” he puts on a fake scowl but his blushing cheeks and the way his hand reaches to rest against your hip tells him a different story. “It’s efficient” is all he says as he moves his body to be pressed up against you, his head down by your shoulder. “Also. That was strike two” he whispers and kisses the side of your neck, sighing into you.

Your top foot moves back to rest between his calves, your hand moving to brush against his hand on your hip. His fingers start to draw small patterns against your skin, moving underneath your shirt. You sigh reaching up to cup his cheek and he moves his head closer, your fingers playing with his hair. “Hinawa” you whisper, “I wanna see you” he chuckles softly, brushing his lips softly across your neck before he moves gently, easily crawling over you and bringing the blankets up again before you pull yourself into his chest, wrapping one of your legs over his thigh as he moves his thigh between yours. “Yes” you whisper as you reach up, cupping his cheeks and his hand wraps around to rest against your back. “We should sleep” you mumble as you look into his eyes. “Yes” he agrees but doesn’t close his eyes, just starts tracing patterns against your back.

“Hinawa” you whisper and he hums in response. The feeling in your heart is heavy, but you can’t seem to find the right words. You love him. But your mouth can’t seem to form the syllables. You lean forward, your nose brushing against his and he sighs, the smell of minty mouthwash filling the air as your hand buries in the hair at the nape of his neck. You lean as far forward as you can, your lips almost touching as you look into his eyes, watching to see if he will kiss you or shut you down.

His hand moves up to cup your cheek and you whimper softly, a sound he barely heard but once he did he was smashing his lips to yours.

His hand moves to bury in your hair as he presses his lips to yours hungrily, a soft moan escaping when he licks your bottom lip. You melt into him as he holds your head gently, his thumb softly moving back and forth as his tongue slowly massages yours. He grunts softly when you bite his bottom lip, your hand moving to grip his shoulder as he sucks on your tongue gently before biting your lip and pulling back before pressing his lips against yours again again and again chucking when your tongue fights against his, wrapping around his as you sucked softly, your thighs tightening around his thigh making him moan softly against your mouth. This line, the line that you have been dancing around for days, the unspoken feelings that were obvious to everyone. God it feels so good to finally be across that line.

Your kisses were both desperate and needy, when you pulled away he pressed his forehead against yours, both panting with your eyes closed. Your hand had rested against his neck, your other had been pressed against his chest this whole time. His hand was under your shirt, flat against your back and drawing small patterns against your skin.

His hand slides down your spine and you clench your legs together, a soft whimper leaving your lips making him chuckle. “We should go to sleep, have to get up early” he says, so serious you pull back and search his eyes for a moment, the small teasing smirk on his lips as he looks at your shocked expression and you laugh, rolling your eyes “alright alright, if you want to ruin the moment” You say trying to scooch away but he laughs, holding you close to him. “I don’t want to ruin the moment. Not at all. But you need to heal up. I don’t want to hurt you” he whispers and you still in his arms. “You’re so responsible” you whisper in a teasing tone against his chest and he laughs “I L-“ he stops, the words getting caught in his throat. He almost said it. Almost just told you he loved you. And it felt so easy. So simple. So perfect and right. You pulled back and looked up into his shocked eyes “are you okay?” You ask and brush your fingers against his cheek. “Yeah I’m fine. Sorry. I don’t know what I was saying.” You lean up, softly pressing your lips to his for a moment before sighing and cuddling in to him. “It’s okay” you whisper as you reach up, holding the back of his head as you play with his hair. It was such a small act that brought him so much comfort he never even realized he could experience. His eyes burned with tears as he cradled you close to him. He should just tell you. But he can’t make his mouth say the words.

“Is it stupid that I’m going to miss you?” You whisper and he chuckles “no. No it’s not” he says and sighs “I promise, I’m going to miss you” he whispered back and you held him a little tighter “good. That makes me happy” he laughs and yawns “you make me happy” he says, the honest truth. As close to confessing as he can bring himself in this moment. You kiss his neck “you make me happy” you whisper as you moved his shirt, sucking on his collarbone and biting a little. Leaving a little mark you hoped would last him a week, hoped it would remind him of you. “So you don't forget me” you whisper with a soft half laugh, your side still hurting from laughing at his clapper. He laughs and scoots down, nuzzling his face into your neck making you laugh with how it tickles before you slowly melt into a moan as he sucks a spot against your neck.

He kisses the tingling skin then kisses your cheek “I won’t forget you, kitten. It’s only a week” you grip his shoulder and then cup his cheek, pulling his face up so you could kiss him, hoping he felt the love you want to give him.

The sound of his alarm woke you and you groaned. “I take this as a physical attack” you say and he laughs, pressing the button and ending the beeping. He turns and kisses your lips softly, just a good morning peck because he couldn’t think of anything more normal. You sigh and hold him for a moment “you’ll be safe?” You whisper and he laughs softly “of course” you nod “good” he turns his face into your neck “you’ll be okay?” He asks and you chuckle, trying not to sound worried as you say “of course. I’m tough remember?” he laughs and pulls back, brushing your noses together.

He claps and his lamp turns on, making you chuckle again at the look he gives you, ignoring the pain you feel. He gets up and puts everything left on the desk in the bag and zips it up before grabbing his clothes. He turns to you “close your eyes” he smirks and you chuckle before groaning and covering your eyes with your hand. “No peeking” he adds with a chuckle and you laugh “awww” you tease and he laughs “okay fine. I guess you can peek” he says and you move your fingers, opening one eye and making eye contact through the gap as he pulls up his pants all the way, his biceps twitching as he buttoned and zipped making you bite your knuckle. “come back to bed please” you say breathlessly and he laughs, his heart squeezing in his chest as he looks at you, your hair messy from sleep, his shirt on your body, perfect. Breathtaking. “Be patient kitten. I don’t want to hurt you” he says with a gentle smile and you get up, walking over to him and kissing his chest. “I know. But do you.. do you feel the same?” You look up at him with your chin against his chest and he sighs with a laugh “you have no idea.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed as he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. You smile and run your fingers through his hair as a knock to his door signals ten minutes. You smile “I’ll see you down there Lieutenant” his heart squeezes in his chest. Tell her you fool. He thinks but he can’t. Fuck he loves you so much. He lets you walk to his door, watches as you wink when you close it behind you. Fuck he loves you.

He catches you by the door to the garage and pulls you into the side storage closet “cutting it a little close here Lieutenant” you whisper with a slight chuckle and he rolls his eyes before he brushes his lips against yours. Your heart beams as your skin tingles you both taste like minty toothpaste and you whimper against his lips when he pulls back. “Needy” he says and you frown and mumble “god you don’t know the half of it” against his lips. you watch his jaw tense as he swallows hard when he pulls back“Don’t hesitate to call if anything, ANYTHING, happens. We will come back. The mission is important but you are more so. Understand?” He says and you nod “yes sir. You protect yourself, protect Obi. Be smart like I know you are” he nods “anything for you” he says with another kiss and then he’s opening the closet door and exiting, then you’re watching them drive off and sighing into the silence. “Guess it’s just you and me HQ” you mumble as you close the door to the garage.

[caramelcal]

The Roof

Synopsis: Y/N is a friend of Allison’s and after Allison died, the house she originally lived in is put up for sale. It’s been like that for a while until a new neighbor moves in; Theo Raeken.  Ship: Theo Raeken x Reader  Words: 1.5k  Notes: A lot of mentions of Allison’s death! Little angsty but idk lol

You hated it. Looking out of the window each morning, the sun blaring through the curtains and seeing the post in the yard beside you. The ‘for sale’ sign in the house your best friend used to live in. It was like a kick in the gut, a constant reminder that she was gone. Allison was gone. 

It took every single piece of your self restraint not to tear your room apart when you woke up to see a big red ‘SOLD’ sign plastered over the post. Someone was moving into her house. Someone would be sleeping in Allison’s old bedroom, every last trace of Allison would be gone. 

Maybe it was for the best, the constant reminder of your best friend’s death wasn’t something you wanted to wake up to. Maybe this would be okay. You kept trying to convince yourself but you didn’t know if you would ever get over it.  

You had started to get better, you were sleeping better and the nightmares weren’t every night. You didn’t cry yourself to sleep as often but as soon as that sold sign came up you couldn’t stop the floodgates from opening back up. There was a new crushing weight on your chest, like a thousand bricks or like a building was on top of you and you didn’t know how to help yourself. 

Your parents had told you the date that they were moving in and if you could muster up the strength, go over and greet them, welcome them to Beacon Hills. You decided to avoid the house the whole day, not even going back home and instead, opting to stay at Lydia’s. It was the night of the Senior Scribe so your parents didn’t mind much. 

You hadn’t just avoided them that night, you had shut your blinds, refusing to open them and see their house. Most people would call you dramatic, tell you to get over it but it just hurt so much. Like a constant ache, like you were missing a limb. That’s what life without Allison was like. 

It had been a week and a half without even looking at the house when you opened your window, climbing out and jumping over to a tree, climbing onto Allison’s roof. It was something you had always done when Allison was still alive and living there. You had spent so much time talking on the roof. 

You sat down on the roof, knowing that your new neighbors would be oblivious to your presence as tears glistened in your eyes. You held the arrow in your hand as if it was the most delicate thing; like a feather. It was Allison’s, one of the ones she had molded. 

“God Ally, why did you have to go...” You whispered painfully, staring down at the arrow, your eyes glistening with tears making your vision blurry, “Life isn’t the same without you...I need you.” 

You heard a window open and you ducked down so your head couldn’t be seen; hidden behind the peak of the roof. Your breath caught in your throat and you tried your best to hold in your sobs, them eventually calming down until the tears were no longer accompanied by any noise. 

When you thought you were in the clear, you sat back up begrudgingly, wiping your eyes free of tears when you heard a voice behind you, “Ah I thought someone was up here.” 

You tensed up, not turning around to face the familiar voice that you are yet to recognize as your cheeks tinted in embarrassment. You seen someone from the corner of your eye sitting down beside you, their legs stretching out on the roof and you seen the familiar dirty converse that a specific ‘werewolf’ as you had been told, loved. 

“Theo?” 

“The one and only.” He replied back simply and you could feel his stare on you as he cleared his throat, “No offence but uh, why are you on my roof?” 

You stayed silent for a moment before gulping and standing up, “I can leave it’s alright-”

“No it’s alright, I’m just wondering,” Theo said as he grabbed your hand, his blue meeting your e/c eyes, “what’s wrong though? Why are you sad? Have you been crying?” 

You wiped at your puffy eyes as you reluctantly sat back down, not even noticing that Theo didn’t let go of your wrist as he looked at you. You avoided eye contact with him as you spoke shakily, “I’m fine.” 

“Even if I couldn’t hear your heart racing when you said that and I couldn’t smell you’re chemo-signals telling me you aren’t ‘fine’ everyone knows when a girl says they’re fine they aren’t.” Theo rattles on as you look over to him, his blue eyes meeting your e/c eyes expectantly as you sigh, shrinking into the roof tiles.

He didn’t say anything as you gulped, opening your mouth and your head rattling for the right thing to say as you spoke quietly, “This was Allison’s house. She was my best friend and I guess just the fact that someone moved into her house brought up my feelings again.” 

He nodded grimly, a frown on his face as he looked at you with softened eyes, gripping your hand a little as you looked down at the arrow that was held in your other hand. It felt so precious in your hand and it was the only thing you had left of her, “Is that...Is that hers?”

Theo’s voice was quiet and soft as if he wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings as his eyes caught onto the arrow in your hand. You didn’t even speak as you continued to look down at the arrow, nodding lightly as he moved closer to you. 

“I may not have known her but I know she’s proud of you. She’s proud of all of you.”

───

It had been a few weeks and every night you went over to Theo’s roof and Theo joined you every single time without a doubt. You had both grown close and in fact, shared a kiss on the roof only three days ago. You trusted Theo a lot more and you felt that you could confide in him; it was the first time you were ever able to open up about Allison. 

He listened to your stories, hugging you close to his body and rubbing a hand up and down your back, giving you support you didn’t know you needed. It had been the happiest you had been in so long, the long days that blended together with mediocre feelings becoming days of happiness, eagerly awaiting the time you could spend alone with him. 

Sure, with all of the Dread Doctor things going on he wasn’t always on time but you understood. You had done the same before Allison but you hadn’t wanted or been able to go back onto the supernatural battle field since. You weren’t the same anymore. 

You lay on your side, face pressed into Theo’s side as his arm wrapped around you, his hand playing with your hair. He knew it relaxed you but how he found out was beyond you. 

Your eyes were fluttering shut as you relaxed against Theo, unable to keep your eyes on the sky which you both had been watching for the past hour. You felt Theo’s head turn to look at you as he spoke quietly, “You falling asleep on me?”

“No, ‘course not.” You murmured as he smiled down at you, noticing you didn’t even open your eyes as he pulled you closer to him, scared to let you go. 

“It’s okay if you’re sleepy,” 

“‘M not sleepy.” 

He let out a small laugh as he shook his head, his hand still playing with your hair subconsciously, “Of course you aren’t.” 

“The full moon is tomorrow,” You mumbled into his side, not aware enough to feel him tense slightly, “you still want me to come over?” 

“I think we’ll be a bit busy, Y/N/N, especially considering it’s a supermoon,” Theo spoke softly, filled with guilt as he frowned, looking down at your fragile self. He hated himself for putting you through this, for pulling your pack apart without your knowledge; your friends, “I’ll make it up to you though, whenever you want.”

You nodded into his side and you both fell into a silence, him with his head running through what was going to happen tomorrow, the guilt eating at his stomach and you, falling asleep. When Theo next looked down he seen you sleeping, a small smile on your face and looking so peaceful. He stopped playing with your hair, reaching down and kissing your forehead lightly before he whispered, more to himself than you.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Little did you know, there was more meaning behind that sentence than you knew. But you would soon find out.

[plastikun]

— “IN ANOTHER LIFE”

[asuka x rei]

word count : 857

summary : rei visits an old friend.

note : this was the first fic that i ever wrote and i’ve decided to put it on here cause i feel like it lol

orange rays of light dance across the walls. Rei heaves a great big sigh as she pulls back the delicate silk curtains to reveal the outside world: the sky bleeds a golden yellow into the horizon as the sun slowly begins to peek over the tall, cloud-touching mountains in the distance. it’s early, and to Rei, it feels like she’s the only person awake in the world. though, the peaceful morning is interrupted by the harsh pattering of rain on the roof, just like the day before; it seems as though the clouds have been crying for years. she stretches and makes her way through the jungle of clothes, plates, and books that litter the floor and onto the cold tile floor of the kitchen.

small things started to become such an inconvenience ever since it changed.

the shrill whistle of the kettle going off pierces through the silence of the house, letting Rei know that she can finally make her morning tea. she never really liked coffee; it was far too bitter for her, and reminded her of someone that she’d rather forget.

crisp white shirt buttoned and pyjamas set aside, Rei sips her tea and looks out the window, observing the kaleidoscope of warm morning colours brought in by the sun being washed away by the dark clouds and pouring rain. a strange sense of nostalgia washes over and embeds itself right in the pit of her stomach.

it’s not really like her to get so caught up with the past.

the records she still keeps, (even though she hates the music that’s on them,) the occasional shirt or dress that’s a size too big to be her own that she finds around the house, the small tin of coffee that’s somehow still in her cupboard, and most of all, the rain that pours down at this very moment. everything always seems to come back to her. Rei downs the rest of her tea in one hasty swig and places the mug in the sink along with the other multitude of plates, cups and such from days before.

i’ll deal with it later, she tells herself. it’s not like there’s anyone there to nag her about it anymore.

swinging open the closet for a rain jacket, Rei pauses. black and almost completely hidden beneath the heap of other jackets that she’d thrown in, sits a raincoat. the longer she stares, the more dismal the situation starts to feel, so she acts fast and pulls it on, not fast enough to remember all of the memories attached to it though. but it’s the only raincoat she owns, so she wears it anyway. she takes a mental note as she walks out the door: buy a new rain jacket.

today, Rei decides to skip work. she turns her phone off, already anticipating the amount of calls she’ll get from her overly nervous coworker asking where she is. she kicks up rainwater with every step that she takes away from where she should be, soaking the bottom of her pant legs. the jacket still smells like vanilla she notices. the jackt still smells like her. a subtle smile pulls at the corners of Reis mouth as an assortment of fond memories flood back into her head; it felt like only yesterday when she had last seen her face. it felt like only yesterday when she had flashed her signature, cocky smile. and Rei would really be lying if she had said that she didn’t miss her explosive attitude. but that was all over now. and now she has to move on with life.

the rain pours down consistently, making Reis wet hair stick slick to the back of her neck. the only bit of colour visible on the sad grey street is a petite flower shop, the front of the store displaying bouquets of dusty pink peonies; her favourite flower. yet another painful reminder of the past. Rei stops in front of a particularly large bloom, replaying the memories of when she would receive the big pink flowers, she was always told that the peonies meant true love. maybe she should return the favour this time; so she buys one. it was expensive.

for the rest of the rainy walk, Rei is lost in what-ifs and could-have-beens until finally, she gets to where she has to be: a bench sits under a tall, swaying weeping willow that shields it from the rain as best as it can, and just for a split second, she thinks that she sees someone sitting alone on the bench, someone wearing the same raincoat that she wears now. but alas, that someone is nothing but a memory now by now. Rei shakes her head as if to scare away the memory, and trudges through the tall, unkempt grass that surrounds her feet. she bends down and gingerly places the single peony that she had purchased on a grave, a melancholy smile on her face as she utters the words,

“in another life—” she pauses to wipe what looks to be a raindrop from her wet cheek- “in another life maybe we’ll meet again.”

[keoghans]

Hey Chuck

Hello and welcome to this Chuck Grant fanfic. I always loved this dude, and I see little to no work about him, so, I took it upon myself to do fic about him. I invented a character, his love interest, because I cant write reader insert, I just, it bothers the fuck out of me to write like that lmao. 

Special mentions for @notmykirk @liebthots @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @alphapockets for proofreading, giving ideas and helping a distressed, nervous writer lol, you lot were brilliant!

This is super angsty, but also filled with fluff and stupid cliches. 

Pairing: Chuck Grant x OC

Warnings: angst, shitloads of angst. Mention of rape. Slight, non-explicit smut. Cursing.  

Word Count: 12k (I know, IM SORRY)

Epilogue 

Three knocks and an anxious wait.

The door was opened by the tall ginger that didn’t seem to ever age. 

“Hannah Davis! What brings you here?” he exclaimed with a broad smile as he hugged her smaller frame. 

“How are you, sir? You look great!” she replied and he furrowed his eyebrows at her answer.

“Hannah, the war is over, it has been for a while, I go by Richard, Rich, or Dick, please,” he said, as he let her in his house. He sounded the same, warm, emphatic, funny. 

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she replied, checking out his living room. He lived in a beautiful, tall house, very homey. It had a fireplace on and a half finished drink on the nearby table. 

“My wife went to visit her brother, a man that’s never approved of me, so I stayed back,” he explained, serving another drink for her. 

“I remember when you first told me that he wasn’t fond of you and I wondered, how the hell does someone not like Dick Winters?” she replied and they both chuckled. 

“Her parents like me, and so does she, so… it doesn’t really matter”. 

Hannah didn’t marry post war, and it had been only a year, but most of Easy Company was already having children, marrying or at least dating. 

She had her heart set on someone but she had lost all contact with him and the Army didn’t help her trying to get what she needed.

So, after an hour and a half of reminiscing about the war, about Austria and the Eagle’s Nest, Winters caught up to her.

“Hannah, with all due respect… I know this isn’t just a casual visit, or you would’ve brought Luz or someone else with you,” he started, trailing off for her to speak. 

Hannah chuckled cynically, the man had always been prone to read people like a piece of paper. She struggled for a few seconds, her nerves coming back to her, scratching the back of her head absentmindedly.

“I’ve been trying to find someone… Someone from the Company, and I don’t want to ask the rest of the men because… Well, if this fails, I don’t want it to be gossip between them; and the Army couldn’t help me, they cannot give out information about former paratroopers,” she explained. 

“I have all of the men’s information with me, so, who are you looking for? Though—some information can be outdated, I haven’t updated it in a couple of years,” Dick said, looking for an old black book that had ‘Easy’ embroidered in the front.

“Say the name.”

“Uh… Charles Grant—NCO Chuck Grant.” 

Rick smiled softly, looking down as he looked for his name in his book. 

“What?” she asked, slightly embarrassed. He knew.

“Nothing. Sergeant Grant is an exceptional man, I felt deeply for him when he got shot,” he explained and placed a ruler under his name, handing the notebook to Hannah.

“I know he is, that’s why I’m looking for him,” she said, looking down at his name, copying the information of his address and phone number. 

Richard looked at her with his usual witty, warm smile. 

“Thank you, Dick” she said, closing the notebook and giving it back.

“Like my wife would say, ‘go get him’.”

///

Hannah had Chuck’s address and phone for a month and a half. 

Every time she thought about calling him, or showing up at his place, fear shook her body and threw her back to square one. She had taken a cab to her former Major in the Paratroopers for forty five minutes to find a man’s address and she couldn’t actually talk to him. 

Hannah laid in her bed, after a long day at the hospital. She was eating leftover carrot cake she had made a week ago, feeling dreadful, looking at the little paper with Chuck’s name sitting on her bedside table, and remembered the many times they shared. 

Bastogne was the coldest hell Hannah had ever experienced, and she knew it was never leaving her head after everything that transpired.

The trees exploded every now and again. As desperation settled inside each mind, everyone started wondering which was getting killed next. 

Then the casualties came: Joe Toye and Guarnere lost each other one leg to mortars, Don Hoobler accidentally shot himself in the leg and the blood loss took his life. Muck and Penkala got blown to pieces by another mortar. 

She had tried to save as many lives as possible as she had to shoot Germans from afar, fearing death every single second she moved around the snow covered forest.

She had short moments of peace, and most were laying in a foxhole, trying to gather some warmth, next to Chuck. 

Her body shook as she blew into her hands, trying to gain back feeling on her fingertips when Charles looked at her and grabbed her hands without a word, covering them with his calloused fingers, scooting closer to her. 

She was slightly taken aback. 

Chuck wasn’t a man of many words, he communicated more with his eyes and small expressions. He politely smiled at her as he rubbed his hands against her. 

“Thanks,” she muttered, nuzzling her chin deeper into her scarf that was tucked into her jumpsuit. 

Chuck just looked at her and kept rubbing their hands together. She noticed her blue eyes looking bright from the full moon shining down the forest. 

“I always hated the winter time, back in the states… and now more,” Chuck said, breaking the silence between them. 

“I know, I prefer to be burning under the sun rather than freezing my butt off.” 

“Cold beers,” he added.

“The beach.”

“Dipping into a river or the sea.”

Both exchanged small smiles. 

Chuck had always noticed Hannah, and stared silently at her many times, but barely exchanged a few words in the second year of their training, when she arrived in Toccoa. He knew she was Shifty’s friend, and someone who Winters relied on and trusted from what Powers had said to help her get into the Paratroopers. 

And she had proved herself useful, not only as a doctor, but as a sharpshooter, taking down snipers that others didn’t notice at first. She used to compete with Shifty on how many Krauts took down each.

Hannah always knew who he was, she remembered every and each name of the company, by nicknames mostly. He definitely called for her attention; he was polite, shy, only mustered a few jokes here and there, not like Luz, who couldn’t speak without joking. 

But she was never as interested in him until he helped her find warmth in a shattering cold in Belgium. 

Hannah remembered that with a smile—their first and probably closest interaction. It only took snow, people dying around them and a whole war for it to happen.

Friday, she thought, Friday would be a good thing for me to approach his house if, luckily, he didn’t move out before. 

///

Anxiety. Lots of. 

Hannah wasn’t on call at the hospital on Friday. She and her best friend, scheduled everything.

Angelina made sure she couldn’t back out of looking for the former paratrooper. She had helped her pick an outfit, helped with her hair, the whole ordeal. 

“Okay, go, go! It’s barely past noon, it’s a beautiful day, maybe y’all can go for a walk,” angelina said, taking a sip from her lemonade. 

Hannah was barely talking, her hands shook, she felt her pits damp with sweat, with a tight knot in her stomach. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, okay… I’m going, whatever, what could go wrong, what the fuck, he could only think I’m a fucking stalker, whatever right? Fuck—.”

“Oh my god, get out, I’ll take care of Trigger, let him have a stroll, and if by any chance you spend the night there—” she said, with a wink— “call me so I’ll stay and give Trigger his morning walkies,” Angelina commanded as she pushed Hannah through the door. 

“Good luck, honey!” She yelled as Hannah dragged her feet through the hot cement under the July sun. 

Every little thing that could go wrong played in her mind as she walked. Grant lived roughly twenty blocks away from her but she still wanted to walk there, to make it as slow as possible. 

Hannah checked the address in the small, torn piece of paper she had it written on and looked for 1612 for a bit, until she finally saw it.

It was a beautiful, tall white house, with a dark grey roof, a small porch with a couple of rocking chairs. A lot of small pots with flowers and different plants covered most of the front of the porch, which made Hannah think that there was clearly a woman living there. 

That made fear struck her again.

He’s probably married, there are rocking chairs and plants… none of the men of the paratroopers cared about fucking plants, why would Charles be any different? 

Fuck it.

Hannah shook her head, her curls moving along, stomped the ground after pondering for a couple of minutes, away from the house and took a few deep breaths before she walked up the three steps before the door and, with a shaky breath, knocked three times and took a step back, giving the door her back. 

She could sense her muscles completely tense, everywhere, arms, legs, stomach, and wondered why the hell she never got her anxiety completely treated like her PTSD from the war. 

What if a woman opened the door? I’d pretend I got the wrong house and run for the fucking hills. 

“Yes?” a deep voice said from behind her. 

Hannah could’ve swore her heart stopped for a split second.

She turned in her heel with the riddled feeling in her stomach when she met those bright blue eyes and the permanently tanned skin of Sergeant of Second Platoon, Charles Grant. 

His usual disheveled look was intact, she noticed, the droopy eyes and the resting annoyed face that was his trademark was still there, but it did change in a moment when he realized quickly who she was. His eyes widened as his jaw dropped slightly. 

“Hannah? Hannah Davis?!” he exclaimed, opening the door wider, taking a step forward shyly. 

Hannah swore her heart was thumping against her chest like a hammer, and was actually afraid Chuck would notice it. But all he did was try to find the words, stuttering slightly as he took a look at her.

“Hey, Chuck,” she said, trying to find her voice back from somewhere in her throat. 

Charles let a single chuckle out of his mouth before, sort of awkwardly, pulled her for a hug, crossing his left arm around her torso and the other one, around the shoulders.

Hannah was a hundred percent sure her heart could arrest at any moment and die right there. The man was hugging her. And she was hugging him back, the same way, when his perfume surrounded her and she closed her eyes for a moment, lingering her head above his shoulder, every single feeling she had ever felt for him rushing back into her stomach, untying the knot slightly, filling it with butterflies. 

“What a surprise! Come on in,” he said, as they parted, moving aside so she could walk inside first. 

Clean, super clean. The fact that the house was so clean yelled wife! in Hannah’s face. But she shook the thoughts aside, trying to focus on walking and trying not to bump into anything and make a mess of herself in front of Chuck. 

“You like it? I’ve been trying to decorate myself but… I don’t know, looks shitty to me still,” he added, standing next to her as she looked at old signs of tobacco brands, and a couple of paintings up white walls, complemented with an olive couch with three seats, a coffee table and a TV in front. 

And books, everywhere. Different sized, colored, some put in a small library in the corner, near the couch. Some were sprawled over on the coffee table and one on the couch, open and faced down. 

She took the books as the cue to find out and get it over with. 

“You and—and your wife must read a lot,” she said, sniggering internally as she awaited for an answer. 

Chuck let out a hearty chuckle, looking suddenly a bit embarrassed at her. 

“Uh, I’m not married,” he said, forming a thin-lipped, awkward smile on his lips. Hannah felt how her shoulders relaxed at the information.

“Oh—sorry, it’s just… It looks very homey, and you know, women do that work mostly,” she said, trying to sound innocent. 

“I learned a bit from my mom, and I found out that I really enjoy gardening and plants in general, that’s why there’s that many on the outside porch. Luz told me I was becoming a woman, I said, ‘what’s wrong with being a woman’?” Chuck said, scratching the back of his neck. 

“He fought side by side with one, and he still says that crap?” Hannah asked, remembering George Luz, the clown of the company. “Fuck him, I like how it looks, it’s homey and… looks warm, you know?”

Chuck nodded his head proudly, trying to shoot down a smile that tried to creep up, slightly blushing. 

“Listen, I was roasting some chicken, are you hungry? I have beers, too,” he said, pulling her by her wrist softly. This touch sent electricity up Hannah’s arm as she nodded silently, following him. 

She was sort of surprised by his cheerfulness. He was a very lowkey man, never spoke too loud, unless he wanted to mock one of his peers with Luz or Guarnere. He fumbled around the kitchen for a bit, before going through the back door to the backyard, where he had a barbecue against the wall.

And she could see him work, cutting up the chicken while it was still roasting, and noticed how he hadn’t put up any weight since coming back from the war, or losing any from the anxiety and PTSD. He had kept in form, his arms still big, as his shoulders, the black sleeves of the shirt sticking tight against them. 

Jesus, stop that! 

Lost in her thoughts, looking around the kitchen, she didn’t notice Chuck was back with two small sandwiches in hand, leaving them on a couple of plates as he quickly moved to grab two Crystals. 

“My brother taught me this amazing sauce, and it’s like pulled pork, but pulled chicken,” he explained, almost proudly of his handiwork. Hannah smiled and took a bite on it. 

Instantly, she had to suppress a moan that was about to fall out of her full mouth, as she widened her eyes at him. He smiled as he chewed and nodded his head like saying I know, right? 

After downing her bite with a bit of beer, Hannah finally breathed out to compliment his food, making Chuck blush again. 

“So, uh… what brings you here? Did you need anything?” Chuck asked, taking a sip of his beer again. 

I wanted to confess that I had feelings for you since you helped me warm up in a foxhole in Bagstone and you saved my ass when I got shot and you dragged me into a jeep to be taken away for a bit to heal, and I always wanted to kiss you for that but I’m such a fucking wuss, I never even dared to flirt. 

“Oh, no, no, I didn’t come to ask any favors, no,” she replied, chuckling nervously, “I—I’m gonna be honest with you; when we came back from Europe, I knew you had to do some recovery from the shot you took, that would need rehabilitation and… I was dealing with so much I couldn’t stay and I felt like shit for a long while for that—Shit, this sounds like I’m doing this to sleep better at night but no, I just want to say: I’m sorry, I should’ve been there like you were when I lost my ear to a kraut bullet, Chuck, I’m really sorry, and I wanted to check on you, see how you were doing…” 

It wasn’t a complete lie, Hannah knew that, but she still felt like what she needed to actually say was heavy in her chest. 

Chuck smiled, and turned his head slightly, pulling his hair up a bit. 

“The scar goes all the way to the back of my head, I—I should’ve died by the extent of my wound, but, it was mostly sup—superficial. My left arm is partially paralyzed,” he explained, lifting both arms at the same time but the left one was left behind as the right kept going up. “And sometimes it’s hard to s—” he closed his eyes as he struggled to say the word, his tongue frozen in the roof of his mouth for a couple of seconds— “speak, like, right now.” 

Hannah looked sorry, like a dog with a tail between its hind legs, feeling ashamed. 

“Don’t feel bad, I had my family and some of the men to help me, and very good doctors too, really, it’s not like you had to take care of me, you know,” Chuck added, grinning warmly at her. “George, Doc Roe and Speirs came almost daily to help, I was set; speaking of wounds, how’s the ear?”

Hannah moved her hair away to show him the scarred and dusty pink skin that reattached to her head after it got blown off in the Battle of the Bulge. 

Bullets and mortars were falling down the territory Easy Company covered. As much as anyone avoids talking about fear, they were all terrorized; the lack of winter gear, clothes, ammo, and food kept them all weak.

Hannah and Chuck were shooting non-stop, both with shaky breaths as they were still covered under a wool blanket, where only the gun and their eyes could be seen. 

“Hannah! Hannah, go help Shifty!” she heard Lip call her as he ran past. She sighed, not wanting to be any closer to the flying gunshots that were showering horizontally on them. 

“Go, it’s okay, go!” Chuck exclaimed, looking at her swiftly as he kept shooting. 

Hannah groaned in annoyance but still climbed up the hole. 

Chuck watched at her go, though her walk got cut short. She froze in her place and he knew something was wrong, and in a split second, she was on the cold ground, yelling her lungs out.

“Shit, shit, shit, hold on, Hannah! Medic!! Medic!!” he yelled as he let his rifle in the hole, crawling to check on the brunette. 

As soon as he turned her body around, his face grimaced in shock. She had blood flowing from her side into her cheek, eyes and mouth, as she gasped for a breath, steam coming from her mouth from the sheering cold. 

He moved her hair slowly, uncovering what was left of her ear, hanging from skin threads, almost completely shredded from her skull. It was an awful view, and the crimson liquid kept flowing and flowing. 

“What is it? Let me see, Grant, move!” Eugene Roe exclaimed, pushing the other soldier aside, checking the wound thoroughly. Hannah had stopped yelling, shock had settled in her body, covering her from the pain. 

“It’s superficial, but you will need someone to cut off the rest. Help me get her to the jeep, Grant,” he said after covering the hole with sulfate and a white bandage that went across her face. 

“Hannah, you’re going to be just fine, stay with us, come on!” Eugene yelled as Chuck lifted her from her back and legs, her face falling into his shoulder, bleeding on his jacket. 

Chuck glanced at her every few moments as he ran to where her ride was stationed, she looked paler by the second that passed, her eyes were closing and he had to keep calling at her to stay awake.

“Hannah, come on, come on, stay with me, stay with me!”

When she was finally strapped down the bed on the front of the sheet, he held her hand for a second before she was pulled away, disappearing into the woods as he had to ran back to his foxhole and keep defending their territory. 

But he kept wondering and wondering about her, until she came back two days after. 

“You came back almost good as new, ear-less, stitched up,” Chuck said, reminiscing.

“And I had to tolerate thousands of ear related jokes for weeks, and got called ‘Earnnah’ too” Hannah said, making them both laugh.

“Fucking Luz and his nicknames,” Charles said, shrugging.

“Anyways, I still don’t have an ear, but the flu I was going through had clogged my eardrum and saved me from being deaf on one side, right?” Hannah added, lifting her beer bottle to cheer for that.

“To the flu, baby!” he said and both drank.

A couple of hours went by and both Chuck and Hannah were already feeling more comfortable in each other’s presence. They laughed about some anecdotes, and updated on their current lifestyles.

“So, a tobacco store?” Hannah said, standing under the sun in the backyard, enjoying the warmth of a summer afternoon, much more relaxed. 

“Yeah, it was my post war dream, and I finally gathered what I needed to open it, it’s in downtown, 5th ave and Charleston. It’s cosy, small, but good enough to sell small things,” Chuck explained, clearly proud of his achievement. “You should come by sometime”. 

“I would, but I quit smoking a few weeks ago,” Hannah replied and Chuck looked surprised. 

“Really?” he asked, propping himself against a column he had set to sustain a small roof he had put up in his yard. 

“Yeah, but I’ll probably hit withdrawal soon and I’ll go back to square one quickly,” she replied, mocking herself and her power of will, making Chuck laugh.

“You still sing?” Chuck asked, and she knew exactly why he asked. “I still remember when we found that piano in the Eagle’s Nest, and you sang a few songs to us,” he said and a very small grin creeped up his lips, looking down at his hands. 

That was one of Hannah’s proudest moments. 

“I do remember that, and I still sing, yeah.”

The war had lightened up, somehow. 

Easy Company was on the works to clear the way into the old Nazi Town of Kehlsteinhaus, where they knew, at the top of the mountain, resides the crown jewel of the Nazi Party. A very glamorous house made only for Hitler and his closests friends. 

Winters dictated for the Easy Company to head straight to the Eagle’s Nest, after raiding the town and finding a place to settle for a bit. 

Hannah heard Speirs yelling the orders and they didn’t even think for a second before they started running up the mountain road towards the House. She ran next to Chuck, Popeye and Malarkey. 

They entered the premises slowly, looking around for Krauts, their guns up in arms. And all of them were surprised by the size of the place from the inside. 

It had grey walls, with bay windows every few meters, the sun shining through, illuminating the whole place. There were a few tables with a few chairs each, some silver plates and vases scattered around the living room, a fireplace, and on the far end, a grand, black and shiny piano. 

Hannah was immediately drawn to it, forgetting about the men popping bottles of champagne they found lying around, remembering instantly the songs her grandfather had once taught her when she was younger. 

The boys weren’t paying attention until they heard the first few notes Hannah pressed on. 

“Davis, you can play?” Spiers asked her as they got closer. 

I waited till I saw the sun, don’t know why I didn’t come

Hannah started singing, as a way to reply Speirs. 

Chuck was certainly taken aback by her singing voice, she had never mentioned before she could do that, that she had even learned or anything she did apart from training for the paratroopers and hang with Shifty. 

When I saw the break of day

I wished that I could fly away

Instead of kneeling in the sand

Catching teardrops in my hand

Her fingers seemed to be dancing around the keys like she had been doing that for a lifetime, as her voice shone through the notes she played. There was a sudden peace brought by the song, which no one could remember having heard before that moment. 

Chuck sensed his body relaxing, as he looked at the brunette who met his eyes not too long after.

My heart is drenched in wine

But you'll be on my mind

Forever

For a fleeting moment, Chuck felt no one was there but him and Hannah, as she kept singing, his breath catching in his chest, leaving him breathless. He knew he had been looking at Hannah with different eyes for a while, but he never actually realized it completely until that moment. 

Something has to make you run

I don't know why I didn't come

I feel as empty as a drum

I don't know why I didn't come

I don't know why I didn't come

“From then on, you guys would ask me to sing every time we found a piano laying somewhere in the abandoned cottages,” Hannah remembered, smiling at the memory. 

“Well, you do have a beautiful voice that puts everyone at ease, you know,” he complimented and Hannah could feel how her pulse accelerated at his compliment, cursing herself internally for being so weak for her former NCO. 

“It's mid-afternoon, care for a tea?” Charles asked, when he noticed her blushing, not answering his compliment, knowing he had hit somewhere inside her with it. 

“I can make a quick cake with anything you have in your kitchen, if you want to…” Hannah said, almost rushedly, trying to cover her tracks. Yeah, that doesn’t sound weird at all, Hannah, you fucking wuss, offering to bake a cake after a couple of hours chatting and trying to cover your stupid feelings, sure, yeah. 

“Kitchen’s all yours,” Chuck said with a grin, looking for his kettle to boil water while Hannah looked for her ingredients for a classic vanilla cake. 

As Hannah whisked the ingredients, Chuck served two mugs with boiling tea, placing one next to her as he watched her focused in his kitchen. 

“I swear, most men of the company don’t have all this stuff laying in their kitchen,” she said, still looking down at the mix.

“I’m not most men,” Chuck replied and both chuckled at his comment. “Oh, look here,” he said suddenly, making Hannah turn around.

A black cat with a small bell in his neck walked in, stretching its legs, and walked up to Chuck, placing its front paws in the dirty blonde legs. 

“This is Roe, I got him a few months ago, he walked in with a broken hind leg and never left this house,” Chuck explained, taking the cat into his arms, which made him start purring loudly. Hannah proceeded to pet him, sliding her fingertips slowly in the soft fur of the head. 

“He’s so handsome!” 

“Thank you,” replied Charles, earning a small slap in his arm by Hannah, who chuckled as she kept petting the kitty. 

“You saying you took care of this kitty reminded me of that nun who changed my bandages in Foye, in that church, remember that? She came straight to me, wondering how a woman is in the Forces, and silently, pulled my face and cleaned me up,” Hannah said, remembering the face of the woman in the black typical suit of a nun. 

“She didn’t treat anyone but you, which was either great or very selfish of her,” Chuck said, jokingly.

“She was in a convent, they take care of women mostly, and I am one, so…” she trailed off, wanting to slap the grin out of his face as she felt her heart melting to the view of Chuck, holding a cat between his arms like a child. My uterus is flipping about. “It’s not like no one took care of you boys.” 

“What are you talking about?” Chuck wondered. 

“Holland. All those women, and food, and drinks, and praising,” Hannah said as she put the mix in the oven. She could hear Charles laughing at her comments.

 “I wasn’t doing anything there, I did accept food though.” 

“Oh, Chuck, come on, I saw you with that blonde that was taller than you, kissing you non-stop,” Hannah exclaimed, way too quickly for her comfort, and turned around, pretending to check on the oven temperature; Could you be any more obvious, Hannah, dear?

“You sound jealous,” Chuck replied, with a smirk and furrowed eyebrows.

“I—okay, yes, I was; everyone was treating you all like goddamn heroes and whatnot, while I got questionable looks and fingers pointing at me for being a woman in a uniform… Hell, they must have thought I was the squad’s whore or something,” she defended herself, trying to not blow her cover that easy in front of his intense eyes looking at her from a few meters. 

Chuck felt bad for a moment. He knew she was proud of being the first woman fighting alongside men in a war, knowing she had earned the respect of many, many people, but there was still a long way to go to be accepted by the population in general. 

“Yeah, I wanted someone to kiss me too and give me drinks, I deserved that too, I didn’t have any physical contact with anyone as much as y’all in that time,” Hannah kept going, the anxiousness to cover herself up from showing feelings almost drowning her. 

“I’m sure you would’ve gotten a kiss if you just asked,” replied Chuck, taking a sip from his tea while still holding Roe. “I would have if you asked me.”

Did my heart just stop? Did it just… really stop? Quick, don’t linger in silence too much!

“You’ve always been such a gentleman, Grant, but that was impossible. First, we were in the Forces together and that was very forbidden. Second, I couldn’t ask people for that, that’s just sad and I didn’t look like any of the women there, my hair wasn’t done, I was wearing our uniform and probably didn’t smell the best there,” Hannah clarified, trying to not sound too rushed again. 

“Okay, yeah, partially true, but you don’t need to be all fixed up to be pretty, though.”

He knows and now he wants to play soccer with my fucking heart. Goodness, I hope he doesn’t know.

“To be honest, it’s not like I came back to the states and started dating and whatnot… I did adopt a dog, his name is Trigger, like the one Tab had back in the day,” Hannah said, trying to clear herself. “Oh, and Tab asked me out like a year ago,” she suddenly remembered. 

“Floyd?! R—really?” Chuck asked, clearly surprised. 

“Yeah, he showed up once, with flowers and everything. It was so sweet but Tab is like my little brother, so I let him down slowly and luckily, he accepted it and we’re still friends,” she explained, remembering how disappointed he looked for a second before she explained herself to him and he took it with humour and saved their friendship from awkwardness. 

All the while, Chuck laughed heartily. 

“What? Oh, don’t laugh at him! He’s so sweet, he was always nice with me, even when most doubted the presence of a woman at war, come on,” Hannah defended Talbert, throwing a paper towel ball straight to his face. 

“Hey! No need to get violent!” Chuck retaliated, throwing it back at her. “I can’t believe little ol’ Tab asked you out,” he added, chuckling. 

“You’re all always making fun of people who ask me out or flirt with me,” Hannah added, a sneer creeping up her lips. “Remember that one British soldier?” 

The Company had saved a hundred and forty brit soldiers, without any casualties. Everyone walked back to camp cheerfully but in silence until they entered the barn. 

Hannah didn’t feel as cheerful as the rest. She had been carrying a small infection under her tongue for a few days and cramps were attacking her every now and again, which she didn’t share with anyone trying to avoid some sexist comment about the nature of women. 

Booze was being passed around the brits and the company as everyone cheered and applauded for their exceptional work. Hannah did enjoy seeing all the grins and wide smiles spread around, while she stood in the side, leaning against a thin wooden column, rubbing her back to ease the pain. 

“Moose Heyliger and the American 101st have done the Red Devils a great service, making it possible for us to return and fight the enemy another day,” the captain of the British soldiers exclaimed to the crowd of paratroopers and the Red Devils. “To Easy Company, victory, and Currahee!”

Everyone cheered, drinking profusely, laughing and all around happy, until the same captain interrupted them for a second.

“Oh, and let us not forget to cheer for one more thing: the first woman in the Forces who was part of this mission, Miss…” 

Hannah wasn’t paying attention, she was completely zoned out on the side, until she heard her name being called a few times. She looked up to the Captain, who had his drink up and looking at her.

“Oh—Oh, Hannah, Hannah Davis!” she replied, a little startled. 

“To Hannah Davis!” The cheers erupted once again, but everyone was now looking at Hannah, who blushed furiously at the attention she was receiving. She just gave them all a tight lipped smile, her eyes drifting from one side to another. 

“So, congratulations are in order, ma’am.” A thick British accent interrupted Hannah’s thoughts a while after she had been cheered on. She turned around to find a tall man with a buzz cut, his red beret and a pointy nose. And a very warm smile. 

“Thank you, private…?”

“Joe Seaward, and it’s Sergeant now,” he clarified, taking his beret off as he took a drink. “How is the Force treating you? Good, I hope?”

“Very good, sir, they feel like family already. At first it was weird for them, but I was vouched for by the Battalion chief, and one of the men, who is an old friend from his hometown,” she replied, feeling slightly intimidated by the brit. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling comfortable. And hometown! Where would that be, if I may ask?” 

“Atlanta, Georgia. Can I ask you where are you from?” she asked, looking up at him. Hannah could feel the eyes of Easy on them, but she didn’t dare to look back at them. 

“Birmingham, born and raised,” Joe replied, looking proud. “Uh, anyone expecting you back home?” he suddenly asked, and Hannah understood what he was referring to. 

“No, apart from family, no one special,” she replied, and just got interrupted by another voice yelling at them.

“Sergeant Seaward! We’re leaving, come on!” Joe looked annoyed all of a sudden. 

“Well, ma’am, if this isn’t too forward, when this war is over, and luckily, we’re both still alive and well, why don’t you stay in England for a while and… maybe we can go to dinner together?” He said, rushing as he took a few steps back. 

Hannah thought for a second and, feeling like she had nothing to lose and after not being flirted by anyone in two years, she replied “Sure, Sergeant, if we both survive…”. 

Joe smirked deeply and quickly found a paper and a battered small pencil, scribbling in it and placed it in her hands, before kissing the back of it. 

“You’ll find me with that. Take care, Hannah Davis! Cheerio!” 

Hannah felt like a child meeting her first crush, blushing, with a dumb smile in her face, until she heard the sniggering paratroopers behind her. 

“What?” she asked, already looking annoyed at them as she turned to find them in a half circle around her.

“What was that ‘bout, Davis?” Bull asked with one lifted eyebrow. 

“Nothing–”

“Not nothing, that brit was flirting with you!” Liebgott exclaimed, his lip curled as his eyes darted between the door of the barn and her. 

“The fuck is the problem with that?” Hannah asked.

“No fraternization with soldiers in the Forces,” Chuck added, looking down at his hands. 

“Oh, fuck all of you. It’s the first time someone comes and tells me I’m pretty in two years, when y’all had women throwing themselves at you back at Eindhoven!” Hannah defended herself, shutting them all up. “It’s not like I’m actually going to do something about it, I might be dead tomorrow anyways”. 

“He looks stupid and he’s a brit, we’re all a better catch than him!” Martin added, inflating his chest. 

“The only decent man here is Doc Roe, and you all know that for a fact. I’m going to sleep for a bit, goodnight” she said, walking away from them, breaking the half circle without looking back. 

“I still have that small, battered piece of paper with me, but I never went to see him,” Hannah added, smirking at the thought. “I should’ve stayed in England and find him, honestly”. 

Chuck frowned, “why? Was he really that interesting?”. 

“He was sweet, he had a very attractive accent and hell, how many men do you know that say ‘cheerio!’ When saying goodbye?” Hannah defended Sergeant Seaward.

“Oh, stop talking talking about him already” Chuck said, dismissing her comments with a frown.

“Who’s jealous now, huh?” Hannah joked, pushing him slightly. Chuck just laughed bitterly.

///

Chuck showed her around the house, apologizing for forgetting to do a tour when she first came in.

He showed him some old pictures he had from high school that his mom had taken of him, some of his own family, and even a photo from a high school girlfriend he still had. Charles told him they were still in contact because her family was close to his, until he went to the war and she moved out of the usual address. 

“It’s like the time I was away, fighting, home became a black hole in my memory, like…It couldn’t possibly exist at the same time I was away.” 

Hannah enjoyed learning more from his past, and suddenly wondered if he had ever known what happened and how Easy reacted when they found out he had gotten shot. 

Charles was looking down at a picture when she popped the question. 

“Chuck, did you uh—did anyone ever tell you what happened with Easy when you… When that replacement shot you?” 

He suddenly took a seat on the couch, looking up at her. There was something on his eyes that she couldn’t decipher, but it was between fear and curiosity; his fingers went to linger over his scar absentmindedly. 

“No, I—the guys never told me anything, and I didn’t dare to ask, honestly.” 

“Do you, uh… Do you want to know?” Hannah asked. Chuck nodded, his lips seeming sewn shut. She took a seat next to him, the air suddenly completely filled with tension. 

“Well, you had patrol and we were relaxing in the house, playing cards, some asleep, most smoking and chatting about the end of the war. Also about the points, but, that’s not important.”

“Then, the door of the living room burst open with a pale, very pale and shook Tab. ‘Grant got shot in the head’ was the first thing he muttered. You know, there wasn’t any music around us, but it seemed like it had stopped. The relaxing atmosphere was cut off like when the lights go out with a switch.” Chuck was staring at her, his attention fully on her. 

“But we didn’t have that much time to like… process. Floyd had received orders to find the shooter, and we practically went around the whole town and the ones nearby looking for him. We had the order to bring him alive but neither wanted to lose the chance to put a bullet in him. We were organized in groups, and we divided in three or four people each.”

“We ended up finding him still in Zell Am See. Malarkey found him with Bull and Lieb, they found him trying—” She took a pause, her stomach turning slightly at the memory— “trying to rape an Austrian girl. She was saved, thankfully, and he was brought back to the house where he took the beating of his lifetime”

By that point, Chuck jaw was opened, but his eyes seemed calmer, somehow.

“Did you beat him too?” he asked. Hannah suddenly broke eye contact, looking down at her fingernails fidgeting together.

“Yes, but I only punched him, the rest did the real beating… I was so angry when I found out he was in the house, I burst through the door and went straight with my knuckles to his jaw. I had my hand bruised for weeks. You were away at that point, Speirs and Roe had found a Kraut brain surgeon and got him to work in you as soon as they could. But we didn’t know if you were alive or not. After the rest took their turn with the replacement, Speirs had come back, saying the surgeon confirmed you were going to be okay; then they dragged the son of a bitch over to the MP’s.”

Hannah felt ashamed, her body seemed to be burning when the memories of that moment revived in her.

“I was so scared you were gonna die, Chuck… I wasn’t there when Speirs confirmed you were going to be okay, and I just—I lost it at that moment,” she added, a knot forming in her throat. “Lieb found me, while I was sitting in a room upstairs, on a bed, in the dark, cursing and crying. It wasn’t only you that made me cry, but… I cared about you, you know. You were my friend, we went through the worst together and I thought I had lost y—,” Hannah’s voice broke, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. 

“Hey, hey, Hannah, I’m here, aren’t I?” Chuck said, scooting closer, placing a hand on her knee and another rubbing her back. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that…”

At that, Hannah snorted while she teared up.

“What are you apologizing for? For getting shot? Jesus, Charles, you didn’t ask for it, did you?” she joked through the tears and broken voice, making both laugh cynically. Hannah lifted her head and looked at him, and noticed how his eyes were watery. He sniffed as he tried to recompose himself, his hands never leaving the brunette.

“No, I know, but… I’m okay, you s—see? I just speak like I’m dumb or something now,” he joked. 

Suddenly, something took over Hannah and she hugged him, with her arms surrounding his shoulders completely. Chuck was taken aback at first, but he then wrapped his arms around her waist and stayed there for a moment, neither muttered a word, only sniffs and breathing could be heard. 

Hannah laughs, then smiles down at the picture of a younger Chuck. Some things change, and some things stay the same forever. Chuck is one of those things that never changes.

After a while, after a hug that helped both recompose and even sort of heal wounds that can’t be seen, they went back to rummage through old photos. 

“Oh, look at this one,” Chuck said, pulling a picture from his teenage years, where he was in just his underwear, surrounded by kids holding different pieces of clothing cheerfully “that was in the middle of summer, we were trying to fight the heat with water balloons and I got so soaked, my brother and my friends convinced me to take them off so they could dry. Me, being stupid and young, did so and they stole them and ran away.” 

Hannah laughed loudly, looking at Charles with apologetic eyes.

“How could you be so naive?” She asked, between laughs. 

“Hey, if I remember correctly, you got your clothes stolen once, in Haguenau! And you know it sucks, doesn’t it?” Chuck replied, jabbing his index on Hannah’s arm. 

Hannah had survived Bastogne, with the scarring of her life and one less ear. Everyone was changed, they had lost many men there, including Toye and Guarnere, Muck and Penkala, and lost Buck to shellshock. 

These days passed with nothing much to do but waiting for orders, some training, and finally, after the snow had passed, winter clothes. 

Second Platoon was stationed in a tall, two-story house, with many rooms, filled with beds and some tables. It was battered, most wallpapers looked torn, and the smell of humidity and gunpowder filling everyone’s nostrils.

On a cold morning, Hannah came back to the second floor, where Malarkey was introducing the new Lieutenant Jones to the men.

“Sir?” her voice, smaller than ever, turned everyone around. Some had to take a second look to be sure what they were looking at. 

“What happened to you?!” Don exclaimed, his jaw dropped. 

Hannah was shirtless. She was holding herself trying to keep the warmth of her body, with only a bra, pants and boots on. She looked red in the face, from the shame. Hannah could sense the eyes on her body, taking notice of every single scar she was sporting, and the bandage that was covering one on the side of her hip. 

“I was changing bandages, I turned for a second to get the sulfate and I heard someone running and laughing. I thought there were just some men playing around but they had taken my clothes, sir…” she explained. Everyone could hear the anger in her voice, her jaw clenching tight. 

“Jesus fuck,” Malarkey muttered, while Chuck proceeded to pull the sweater he used under his jacket and quickly helped Hannah put it on. “Lieb, MccLung, Jackson, go find the fuckers who did this, report to Speirs”. 

“I’m sorry, Malark, I—I didn’t want to make any trouble, really, I—,”

“No, don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, okay? Here, it probably smells but it’s better than nothing, I’ll have someone find some clothes if they don’t find yours,” Malarkey said, giving her his scarf, and went back to speak with Lt. Jones, who only nodded to her as a salute. 

“Come on, we made some coffee,” said Chuck, pulling her to where the kettle was in a corner. “Are you okay?”.

“Yeah,” was all she said, hiding herself in her copper mug, drinking the awful coffee they have been given. Then Chuck did something that she wasn’t expecting, but calmed her nerves quite quickly: his palm met the top of her head, and ran down her hair slowly. 

Hannah had seen the men do that to each other, when they had panic attacks or after the death of a fellow soldier, they would hold their heads or run their fingers through their hair. It seemed like a paternal way to hold them close and not let them fall into the abyss of desperation war brings in people. 

And now she felt it herself. Chuck’s fingers brought peace into her body, into her mind. She closed her eyes he kept going, enjoying that as well as the steam from the coffee meeting her cold skin. 

///

Not too long after, and from a window, Hannah and Chuck saw MccLung and Lieb dragging two soldiers from their jackets to Speirs and Winters. Joe talked furiously, clearly explaining what the two men did. 

Hannah chuckled cynically, knowing Speirs would have them doing the worst jobs for the Platoon. 

Her happiness didn’t last long, though. After getting new clothes, returning Chuck’s sweater, she found out, alongside the rest, that they had a patrol to get to at one past midnight. 

Everyone dreaded it, mostly because Second Platoon had lost the most people since Bastogne, and they still wanted them to do a senseless mission. They were ordered to cross the river into German territory and take prisoners to get intel. 

They still had hours to kill before heading to enemy territory, so Hannah decided to find some place to nap, after fixing and cleaning her guns and getting more ammo. 

She wandered around Second Platoon’s house until she found a room on the second floor. She opened the door, walking inside, and instantly found a sleeping body on top of the bed. 

“What? What?!” it said startled and looked up. Hannah didn’t notice at first but as soon as some light shone through the bullet holes on the wooden panels in the window, she saw Grant’s face. 

“Oh, sorry Chuck, I was looking for some place to sleep, I’ll leave you to—,”

“No, no, it’s fine… we can share,” he said from the dark, she could hear his hand patting the bed. 

Hannah thought for a second. She was exhausted, her body was still cold and there probably wasn’t a better bed in the whole house to nap in. 

So, she closed the door behind her and left her jacket and rifle on the floor, and climbed under the wool blanket. 

Under it, she was met instantly with Chuck’s warmth, her side wasn’t cold, as she expected it to be. There was calm, so much calm it was a bit unsettling for Hannah; last time she felt it, mortars fell from the sky and took her friends with the blast. 

But there was something about the gentleness of Chuck’s breathing that helped her, which she couldn’t explain, but silently thanked him for it. 

A few minutes passed when Hannah turned to her side, facing Chuck, who was already positioned on his side. She was unable to fall fully asleep, which was normal when someone tries to relax during a war. 

Hannah just stayed there in silence, eyes closed, her hand dropped on the mattress near her face, when she felt Chuck’s hand a few inches from hers. 

For a moment, she wanted to grab it. 

Hannah had noticed for a while that she was closer with Chuck than with the rest of the men. It was an odd friendship; it’s not like they talked for hours and hours on end but mostly in silence or with hushed, short conversations. But when she was with him, she didn’t feel as much fear as with the rest or alone in a foxhole. 

But he had always been there for her, like she was for him. Through every loss, through every problem. There was an implicit deep trust between them that neither acknowledged with words, but with simple actions. 

And to her, he was certainly an attractive man; with dirty blonde hair, an inviting smile, always polite and shy. And Hannah knew she had felt sometimes a bit of a butterfly in her stomach when he smiled at her. 

Suddenly, her thoughts were hushed when she felt his fingers wrap around hers. 

Hannah didn’t open her eyes, afraid they would show how much speed her blood pressure gained in a split second. But she did reciprocate, after a moment, moving her hand so his fingers intertwined with hers. 

Neither moved, neither spoke nor opened their eyes. And finally, both fell asleep until Liebgott woke them up a couple of hours later.

He opened the door loudly, letting in some light. Both Hannah and Chuck sat up quickly, startled and disheveled, looking at Joe like he was crazy. 

Joe looked at both with a deep, playful smirk before saying, “We have the meeting at CP in ten minutes, let’s go, come on.”

Thankfully, Joe didn’t notice that Hannah and Chuck were still holding hands under the sheet; but when they caught it, as Lieb left, they quickly unwrapped them and rushed to get their things, without saying another word to each other.

///

Night came around nicely. 

Both Hannah and Chuck were enjoying their time. Hannah had clearly relaxed, mostly after they had talked about what happened to the NCO, feeling like she had let go of a heavy weight she carried on her shoulders. 

Charles offered for her to stay for dinner when the brunette said she still had to walk her dog, even though she knew Angelina had probably done that already. He insisted, saying the leftovers taste even better reheated on the grill. 

Hannah laughed and agreed to stay, as long as she could help with it. Her day has been better than expected, way better. But she still had that small pebble in her shoe about her feelings towards Chuck. A part of her yelled that she should come clean to him, and be done with it, no matter the result. The other part also yelled that his friendship was more valuable than risking it for something more.

But the tiny voice in her head still insisted with No, no! He doesn’t feel that way. He hasn’t flirted with you, or showed some clear sign of attraction, Hannah! Have dinner and pretend it’s all good. 

“Hey, can I ask you something? This might sound a bit weird,” Hannah said, with a sneaky smile while Chuck revamped the grill. The former NCO just nodded in response. “Why aren’t you married?” 

Chuck snorted, looking surprised and slightly offended. “Aren’t you the one that used to complain that women are always pressured to get married, and maybe they shouldn’t if they don't want to?” He asked, almost complaining. 

Hannah laughed and put her hands up in her defense.

“I don’t mean it like that, Charles Grant! I just… I’m surprised a man like you, who does all this, isn’t at least dating someone,” she clarified. 

“I didn’t say I wasn’t dating someone,” he replied, without looking at her.

There it is! So, that’s what it's like to get your heart punched, huh? 

“Oh, yeah, I mean—Of course, sorry–,” Hannah added, suddenly stumbling upon her words as she felt her hands shake slightly. 

Chuck snorted again, this time a hearty laugh escaping his lips. 

“I’m not Hannah, I’m not seeing anybody at the moment,” he added, smiling as he moved the charcoal around the grill. 

Hannah had a rush of anger suddenly, wanting to throw something at him and yell you fucking asshole, I’m in love with you, do not do that to me!!!

But she held herself in, looking rather unphased, and just nodded disapprovingly. 

“I, well… I haven’t met the right woman, you know? I’ve seen some people, yeah. Babe set me up once with this redhead who could’ve been Malarkey’s sister for all I knew and it was going good at first but… Fuck, I was so bored!” he said, showing the annoyance in his face at the memory. “She was nice and all, but she was just… so fucking boring. She talked about her hair and stuff she does with her lady friends and she hated when I told stories about the war.”

Now it was Hannah’s turn to laugh. “She hated it? Why?”. 

“Who the fuck knows, maybe it was too g—ory for her, or she didn’t want to hear that one of the men was being called ‘Gonorrhea’. Hell, she didn’t even want to hear how I got the scar in my head or rather, the explanation of my slurring when I speak and my lack of strength on my left side,” Chuck said and sounded rather offended. 

“Someone has to either appreciate your scar and the sequels, or get the fuck out of your way,” Hannah said, approaching him with a beer in hand. “Don’t ever feel ashamed for that, Chuck, I’m not ashamed of having one ear, honestly. I think it’s pretty nice. Who can say that is different when their bodies are complete and in perfect state?”. 

“It’s boring, isn’t it?” he added.

“You and me, Chuck, are different. And that’s good. Toye and Guarnere have one less leg each, they’re fucking awesome too.” 

Hannah’s heart leaped at the sight of Chuck looking suddenly proud of himself, and when he looked at her to clink their bottles, she could’ve sworn that, if she had the ovaries, she would’ve kissed him right there and then.

///

After dinner and a few more laughs, Hannah called it a night. 

Her heart felt slightly heavy for not having dared to confess what she was there to do in the first place. 

“Well, my dear Grant, I have to head home,” she said, as she put plates down the water in sink. 

“Already?” Chuck replied, looking surprised.

“It’s almost ten in the night!” she exclaimed, drying her hands on a towel that hung from the oven door handle. 

“Want me to call you a cab? Lieb is probably still around working with his.” 

“No, don’t worry, I’ll walk. It’s fine,” Hannah replied, and started walking towards the door with Chuck on tow. 

Both stood on the porch, looking around the calm neighborhood. Hannah was feeling so ashamed of herself, slapping herself mentally every second that passed. 

“Well, Hannah, this was a great surprise,” Chuck started, breaking her thoughts for a moment, “we should do this more often, maybe with the guys, sometime, before winter leaves us secluded in our homes.” 

“Of course, but let’s not wait two years this time,” she replied, with a smile creeping up her lips, looking at him. God, how can someone dare be this good looking?

Chuck proceeded to hug her like when he opened the door past noon, when she showed up at his doorstep. Hannah reciprocated, and drowned herself once again in his cologne, not wanting to let go or stop feeling his hands around her body.

“See ya, Davis,” Chuck said as she walked down the steps and she took one last look at him before heading home. 

You fucking wuss, you fucking wuss, you fucking wuss, you fucking, pathetic     w—

“Hannah! Wait!” 

Chuck’s voice startled her as she was reaching the crossroad, when she turned around to find him running towards her. 

Her heart raced, wondering why the hell was he yelling at her for. Maybe she had forgotten something. Yeah, that’s all, I might have forgotten my… keys? 

“Hannah, wait, I… I have to tell you something and this can’t wait…” Chuck started as soon as he caught up to her. “Listen, this might sound weird but… a while ago I—you appeared in a dream of mine. You were talking to me after I got shot and you were begging me to not forget you.”

“Hannah, I took it upon myself to find you but I was meeting only dead ends, the Army wouldn’t help me so I had to… fuck, I had to find Winters and ask him for your information. God, that was embarrassing, but you know Winters, he didn’t hesitate to help. I had your address and phone numbers for months, but I never had the guts to go knock on your door… I thought you might have forgotten me, but… I never forgot about you,”

“I never forgot how we shared a foxhole during our hardest time. I never forgot how we slept in that bed and held hands in the dark. I never forgot how you took care of me when I had that one panic attack in Bastogne, and everything else,”

“What I mean, Hannah, is… I love you. I can’t date other women because they’re not you, and all I want is you. So… please, don’t leave. Not now. I couldn’t believe my eyes when you showed up at my door, fuck, I thought I was dreaming or dead. You had found me and I—,”

Before Chuck could follow through with his speech, Hannah took him by the face and kissed him. 

It was bruising, it was desperate and filled with love. Chuck wrapped his arms around her body, bringing her impossibly close to his body as her fingers found his hair. 

The anticipation was their favorite feeling. They both sensed how long they waited for that to happen, so they sank deeper into it. 

It went on for a few minutes, the night time seemed to have stopped for both, like everything had disappeared except for them. 

After they parted, both panting, their foreheads connected, Hannah opened her eyes and found Chuck’s cheeks stained with tear trails and that explained the salty taste in his lips. That made her smile widely as she still held his hand between hers. 

“Can you—do you want to s–spend the night with me?” Chuck asked, opening his eyes finally. 

Hannah just smiled widely, pecking his lips as she pulled him by the wrist towards his house.

///

Making love to someone you have craved for years makes the hours longer.

Both Hannah and Chuck were sure of that while the latter moaned loudly as Hannah rode him; his hands were bruising against her hips as she moved, holding herself in his shoulders, kissing him every now and again. 

Hannah never thought she would see Chuck like this. With sweat rolling down his forehead, his lips swollen and his eyes squeezed shut; to see his naked torso and his chest heaving up and down, which was covered in different scars that only made him even better looking in her opinion.

The man was almost ethereal in the dim light of his bedroom.

She enjoyed every bit of him as much as she could, like that could’ve been a fleeting figment of her imagination that she had to hold tight between her fingers before it could slip away. 

But reality brought her back when she felt the pain of his fingers digging into her hips. Hannah didn’t mind one bit.

She just loved to see how overwhelmed with pleasure he was, how he propped himself into his elbows, wrapping a hand around her bottom to carry both into the bed frame so he could sit and find her lips with his as he rode into his climax. 

Of course, Chuck being the gentleman he was, caring, he helped Hannah ride into hers, enjoying how she cried out his name loudly like it was the best song he had ever heard. 

///

Chuck’s fingers ran down Hannah’s bare shoulders, enjoying the dampness. It was soft, it was warm and it also a tad bit freckled. His fingertips followed down her arm until they met her face, that laid upon the back of her hands as she laid in her stomach. 

 Her eyes were closed but she was still awake. Hannah was just soaking on everything that happened through the day, and now, through the night, as the clock ticked into two in the morning. 

Chuck sat parallel to her, and his fingertips went all the way back to walk down her shoulder blades, into the deep line of her spine, meeting a few moles spread out here and there, which sent very slight tickles to the brunette. 

“I kind of can’t believe this just happened” he muttered, turning to lay his head on the small of her back. He could feel the vibration of the small laugh she let go at his comment.

“Me neither, Chuck… but I, uh… I have a confession, which I think will make you laugh,” Hannah replied.

“Do go on…” he replied.

“You told me you looked for my information with Winters, right?” Hannah asked.

“Right”.

“Well, when I looked for you too… I did the same,” she said and felt his head suddenly turn to her at her words, “and when I said your name, he gave me a weird look, but now I know it was a ‘I know something important about this that you don’t know’ look”. 

“So, wait, we l—ooked for each other in the past few months, and we did exactly the same shit?” he said, struggling slightly. 

Hannah heard the clicker of the lighter and looked back at him, lightning a cigarette with a shit eating grin sprawled upon his lips. 

“Exactly what I’m saying,” she replied, laying her head back down. 

“Another reason why I would like to marry you, then,” he added, like it was nothing.

What he didn’t notice was the speed in which Hannah’s eyes widened and her heart started thumping inside her rib cage. 

“I’m sorry?!” she asked, sounding a tad bit anxious. Chuck was never one to say rushed things like that. 

“The first reason is how powerful and relentless you were and still clearly are. You know how I know that?” he asked, and she could feel his smile still in his lips.

“No, how?”

“When you confronted Sobel before we went to Holland. Of course, I didn’t know at the moment the amount of feelings I had for you, but… I think I did have some of them roaming inside me,” Chuck said, like he was the one who stood up to Herbert Sobel, “but that was just plain hot,” he finalized, and turned to look at her; Hannah was just looking at him like he was crazy. 

The night before, everyone was cheering for their job. They were done, they were bound to the States and all the Easy Company wanted to do was drink and laugh. 

For everyone’s demise, Lipton announced how they were heading back into war, to Holland, killing the mood instantly. 

As the replacements were getting helped and guided by Bull, rather than Cobb, who could only brag about stuff he never ever did; Chuck was packing her stuff near Malarkey, Bill and Hannah. 

“I swear I thought by this time I was gonna be home, with a hundred in my pocket, flowers for my mama and nearing Christmas with my nieces and nephews” Malarkey said, fixing his bayonet. The rest scoffed, still bitter by the news.

“I miss the coffee from hometown, there’s this beautiful place in Hamstown Square, it’s very small and cozy, and the pastries are the most delicious I’ve ever had” Hannah said, looking like she was talking about the love of her life. 

“Guys, look!” Bull said, interrupting them, pointing to their right.

On a jeep, carrying some stuff behind it, sat Herbert Sobel, their former CO, the nightmare that trained them back in Toccoa. Hannah knew she didn’t train with him as much as the rest, but a year with that man was more than enough. 

“Fuck, no…” Hannah whispered so just the boys around her heard her “No, not him”.

“Don’t—Pretend he’s not here,” Malarkey said to her, tying the loose ends of her parachute to her shoulders as Skip came to them scowling like the rest. “Y’all too, do not look at him”. 

Neither obliged, all of them stared at the man passing by. 

“The hell is he doing here?” Skip wondered, without getting an answer.

Sobel walked in a straight line near the men as the truck behind his jeep unloaded, looking between the men with his usual air of superiority untouched. 

Unlucky for Hannah, he had met her eyes not too long after, and the man approached her, before the rest could make themselves scarce. 

“Still alive, uh… Davis?” Sobel asked, scowling at the brunette.

“Pretty much, sir. Still teaching at that school… somewhere?” she answered, provoking a few small gasps around her. Sobel scowl just deepened.

“Do not disrespect me with that tone, private” the taller man threatened, his jaw clenching tight. 

“Earn the respect, like you once taught us, and I won’t,” Hannah replied, her tone dripping with bitterness and irony. She felt a hand in her shoulder and knew one of the men was probably trying to calm her down. “You came here and act surprised that I’m still alive? No, I deserve more than that, sir”. 

“You shut your mouth right now, private! This—this is the reason why women shouldn’t be allowed in the army; they’re too emotional!” Sobel exclaimed, almost yelling to get attention, which only made Hannah even more furious.

“If you were in our command, if you were our leader, we would all be dead right now. Don’t you remember that drill we did back in England? Why do you think you were ‘promoted’? And no, I’m not scared of you, go write me up if you want to; Winters is south of the camp, third tent on the right. Colonel Sink is in the next tent to his, the fourth one,” Hannah felt like she couldn’t stop, her anger overcoming her; mountains of words and feelings that were accumulating, finally leaving her chest. 

Chuck couldn’t believe the words that came out of her. 

Everyone awaited without breathing for an answer, a yell from Sobel, something. But nothing came, he just scowled, breathed hard, and before anyone took a breath again, he turned around tight in his heel and left to the back of the truck. 

Hannah took a breath and turned around to finish prepping, when she found many of her fellow paratroopers smiling at her, some nodding in approval even. Johnny Martin crossed by her side, squeezing her arm, as he whispered a small “good one” for her. 

“I fucking hate him, that felt really good”, she said to Chuck, turning to adjust his jumpsuit. 

Chuck just stared at her, feeling hard to believe what just went through. Their former NCO was just bashed in front of everyone, and no one, not even one paratrooper came in his defense. 

His eyes roamed through her face as she fixed his suit and talked about something he wasn’t paying attention to. Suddenly, he was looking at her in a different way, one that would grow over time during the war.

///

The night caught up to Chuck and Hannah, both deep asleep on his bed. The brunette laid her head in his shoulder, on her side, while he was laid in his back, with his cheek against her forehead. 

Though around dawn, Chuck’s body started to shook. It came softly at first, just a few twitches, until it became a whole storm inside him. 

Hannah stirred up and saw how every muscle in his arms and chest were clenched, and he muttering something she couldn’t comprehend. Clearly, he was having a nightmares. The nightmares that seemed to never end, which felt like a punishment that everyone had to endure post war. 

The brunette placed her hands around his head as she whispered, “Chuck, Chuck, it’s okay, it’s just a dream, wake up, love, wake up.” 

His eyes shot open, looking terrified as he gasped for air, his hands fumbling to find her. 

“Hannah, Hannah!” He exclaimed, as he finally met her eyes. His body was shaking until he realized she was there, looking down at him, with a tired, disheveled smile. 

“It’s okay, love, I’m here, I’m here,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair, kissing his cheek before looking down at him again. 

The first light of the sun shining through the white curtains, illuminating both with such warmth it made Hannah’s heart swell. 

“I’m sorry, I’m s—sorry, Hannah, this still happens…” he explains, his hand tight on her side. 

But Hannah just smiles sweetly at him, “it still happens to me too, Chuck, it’s okay, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” she explains, admiring his deep blue eyes. 

“Can you… can you sing to me?” He asked, sounding almost embarrassed to ask for it. 

The touch of your lips upon my face

Your lips that are cool and sweet

Such tenderness lies in their soft caress

My heart forgets to beat

The touch of your hands upon my head

The love in your eyes, ashine

And now at last, the moment divine

The touch of your lips, the love in your eyes

The touch of your lips on mine

Chuck closed his eyes as her singing filled his ears. He haven’t felt peace like at that moment, not since the war. Hugging his mother, playing cards with his brothers or the men from the Company brought joy, but peace; peace came from Hannah, wearing his shirt, at dawn, singing to him. 

And it was the same for Hannah. 

Both knew the nightmares will continue to haunt them, and that their lives will go on, but at least, they were going to go through it together. 

And that was more than enough for them. ///

[horrorslashergirl]

Chromeskull x Reader- Kill a sweat

Summer is getting closer to us and I can only guess how hot Florida can be. Might as well kill a sweat, huh? Plus, who can resist a girl in a bikini washing a hot car? Joking...ENJOY!~

Also this piece wouldn’t have been written if it wasn’t @slashhinginghasher​ piece of Slashers’ reaction to getting sprayed with a hose. So, a huge thank you for that!

P.S: Jesse in a tank top makes me go into heat. lol

If you could curse and kill something now, it was probably the insufferable Florida heat that made your skin be coated into a sweat, your hair pulled up into a high pony-tail, the AC blowing cold air on your forehead, but it wasn't enough. You were all alone at Jesse's house, he was probably out and you stripped down to an over-sized T-shirt with some boy-shorts, but still, the heat was driving you insane.

What made you angrier was that just today Jesse called in to have his pool be cleaned, so that meant you could have a nice swim to kill the hotness. You just finished up another glass of lemonade, probably the third for today; a sigh left your lips as you walked outside on the front yard, the sun hitting your face, making you squint your eyes, then you saw Jesse's Chrysler 300C sitting in the driveway.

It was Jesse's favorite car and you knew that he liked to take it just on his special 'business' trips. Like a light-bulb was shining above your head, your lips pulled into a smirk; maybe you could kill the heat somehow.

You tip-toed back inside the mansion, straight up to your shared bedroom, rummaging through the closet in the quest of wearing something more appropriate for the upcoming activity.

"There it is!" you said with a grin, a black two-piece bikini into your hands with some sparkly skull pattern. You got it one time when you went shopping and almost forgot about it in the back of the closet.

Stripping down your sweat-covered clothes, you pulled on the skimpy bathing suit, looking into the mirror with a satisfied look; oh yes, it fits you just fine in all the right places. Getting all the supplies you needed; sponges, buckets of water, and the special car products for cleaning.

Finally, you got them all downstairs, next to the black luxurious car. You went to get the hose and sprayed a good amount of water on the black paint job, making sure to get it wet. You almost laughed at the double-meaning, knowing if Jesse would be here and if you said it aloud he would start getting you wet and not with the hose.

Next, you dipped the sponge into the bucket, filled with water and foam, and began to clean the Chrysler, starting up with the sides of it. It was actually pretty nice, feeling the cold water with foam get on your skin was making you almost shiver in relief, but all the silence made you feel kind of weird. You loved music, so you put away the sponge and got your phone, choosing a random song to play, then you went to continue washing the car.

You had to stretch your arms a bit to get to the roof, your breasts squishing against the window, the tiny material getting all soaked up with water, your nipples starting to get hard from the cold water and the friction. After you were finished with the roof you went over to the hood, putting a bit of more foam and water onto it. You had to stretch your body over the hood to get on the part that was close to the windshield, practically bending over the hood, your hips moving to the beat of the music, until you heard clapping, making you tense up and quickly turn around to see a smirking Jesse.

From the looks of it, the intense heat was getting to him too, despite the fact that all his life he lived into Florida, the heat part of his life. His usual, classic attire was left for a black tank-top that hugged him in all the right places, his tattoos on full display across his pale skin. You swallowed a giggle as you noticed he was wearing black sport-shorts with flames on the side and a pair of white Nikes.

'Having fun?' he signed, making you giggle, the music still playing and you couldn't help yourself. Jesse liked to tease and you had a chance right here to get to him.

"Maybe?" you said, your hand moving to your hair, pulling it loose from your pony-tail, the hair following down your shoulders, biting your lip as you moved slowly to the song.

'You really wanna do this? I don't promise we will get inside the house.' he signed slowly with suave like moves, flashing his signature panty-dropping grin. You knew he wasn't joking, in the past, you two hadn't made it to the front door and one night you pretty much did it with your hands leaning on the front door, or that time you two did it in his pool. Jesse was known for being an enthusiastic exhibitionist.

"I don't mind it, stud." you said, playing with the straps that were holding the upper part of your bikini, your other hand beckoning him over and he couldn't deny you this requests, walking over to you like a predator, his tall form towering over yours.

You turned around, your back flush against his front, your hips swinging to the song as your hands, moved up, touching behind you, his neck and chest, your eyes looking up at him with mischief.

"Only you can make me, scream and beg for moooooore." you sang the verses of the song and Jesse chuckled silently at you, his chest rumbling, as his hands moved to your hips, then before you knew it, you were pulled flush across the hood, not before he ripped your bikini-top off, your breasts flush across the hood of the car.

"You really aren't joking." you said, giggling as he began to leave open mouthes kissed on your shoulder and the back of your neck, making you arch your ass into his crotch, a very noticeable bulge forming in his black shorts.

His hands moved down your body to the straps holding the last piece of clothing you had on. If the heat wasn't going to kill you, you knew Jesse would destroy you.

Meanwhile....somewhere else....

Preston was looking at the security camera, seeing Jesse and his girls on the hood of the car, the angle of the camera so perfect it got the best part until it was closed by Spann.

"What the fuck!" Preston said, his black shirt already damp with sweat if only the AC in the building hadn't broken down. He swiped his black hair back, getting already frizzy from the humidity, not even the strongest gel could tame it.

Spann looked at Preston with a calm look.

"Jesse let us have a day off. The whole organization is going to the pool. It might help you...calm down." she said, looking down at the bulge that started to form into Prestons black slacks.

"Get out!" he screamed, Spann smirked and went out, leaving Preston in a panting and huffing mess.

"Cockblocker." he grumbled.

[spotsbis]

This Doesn’t Feel Like Love Anymore (Sprace)

@newsiestozier here it is, finally!!!!

Words: 3157 (sorry, I kinda went off lol)

Warnings: drinking, kissing, swearing, fighting

AO3 link

---

It had started during the strike. Spot led an army of angry Brooklyn boys across the bridge into Manhattan, and then, he sort of just stuck around to see how it would all pan out. It certainly had nothing to do with one particularly loud and annoying boy who lived there.

Spot knew Race, or more acurately, he knew of Race. Race frequently crossed into Brooklyn territory to sell papes at Sheepshead, and, initially, the only thing that held Spot back from soaking him was not wanting to cause a rift with Manhattan. Things were tense enough between the boroughs, and one kid wasn’t worth starting shit over. Besides, Spot kept his boys far away from Sheepshead, not wanting them to squander their earnings betting on horses, so Race wasn’t really stealing anyone’s customers. Spot told himself that Race earning and spending money at Sheepshead was good for the Brooklyn economy or something like that, so he let him get away with it, for the economy, not because he had cute face.

Spot had followed the ‘Hattan boys into Tibby’s to celebrate their newfound fame on the front page of the Sun. Now that they were face to face, singing and dancing together, he had to admit, Race was pretty. So pretty that Spot was zoning out just thinking about him as he sat at a table near the door, glass in hand.

“Seeya tomorrow, Spot,” Jack clapped a hand on his shoulder, and Spot bristled, but refrained from swatting at him as he was shaken back to reality.

“G’night, Kelly.” Spot watched as the Manhattan boys filed out behind their leader.

Spot leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. It had been a long day and he really didn’t feel like walking all the way back to Brooklyn. He wasn’t normally one to shirk responsibility, but after such an exhausting day, he assumed his boys wouldn��t have any trouble getting to sleep.

Spot opened his eyes at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, and he shifted forward so all four of the chair legs were back on the ground. Race had pulled up the chair across from him.

“Hiya, Spot,” he said, grinning.

“Race.” Spot nodded.

“You movin’ to ‘Hatten, now?”

Spot chuckled, “I don’t know if I’m quite sold yet.”

“I could show you a few things that might change your mind.” Spot squinted his eyes and frowned, trying to decide if Race was flirting with him.

“I mean, not that Brooklyn’s bad,” Race continued, mistaking Spot’s confusion for anger, and quickly backtracking. “It’s a great place, you gots lots of nice things over there.”

“Yeah, you would know, you spend enough time over on my turf.” Spot joked.

“Hey, I’m not taking any ‘a your boys’ sellin’ spots!” Race was relieved that he hadn’t actually upset Spot.

“Never said you were, I was just makin’ an observation.”

“Oh, so you observe me?” Race’s tone crept back toward flirty.

“Yeah, I do.” Spot stood up and carried his empty glass up the counter, turning his back on Race to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. Race followed him, downing the rest of his drink and stacking his glass next to Spot’s.

“I’ve uhh, I’ve observed you, too.” Race followed Spot out the door as the bell jangled behind them cheerfully.

Spot laughed, “I bet you have.”

Spot walked ahead a few paces, then turned back to look at Race, who was leaning against the door and making a clear show of ‘observing’ Spot, looking him up and down. Spot rolled his eyes, more annoyed by the smirk that crept onto his face than by the boy who caused it, and started walking again.

Race caught up to walk beside Spot. “Manhattan at night,” he breathed. “This is the peak of living.” He ran ahead and spun in a circle with his arms outstretched. “You’d be a fool not to want to live here!

“What’s one good that Brooklyn’s got that we’se don’t?”

Spot smiled. “Me, apparently.”

Race fell in step beside Spot once again and elbowed him in the side. “Not yet we don’t.”

Race looked around the city as if seeing it for the first time. Manhattan at night really had that effect, a certain magic that made it seem as though anything could happen. Spot’s hand accidentally brushed against Race’s knuckles and he reflexively jerked it away and kept looking forward as they walked without a destination.

Race was whistling what sounded like ‘look at me, I’m the King of New York,’ and seemed not to notice the accidental contact.

“So, do you just wanna walk around, or…? I’m sure Jack’ll let you crash at the lodging house if you want.”

“I’m not really tired yet.” Spot stifled a yawn; he was dead tired but didn’t want to stop spending time with Race. “And you still haven’t convinced me to move to Manhattan.”

“Right, right, and how am I gonna do that?”

“Give me a reason why Manhattan is better.”

“Okay.” Race grabbed Spot’s hand. Apparently, he had felt it before.

Spot let out a surprised sound, “That’s a start.”

“Yeah?” Race jerked him into an alley between two buildings. Race backed up against the building and pulled Spot into a kiss that ended much too soon.

“Does this mean if we ever start sellin’ papes again I can come back to Brooklyn?” Race asked. It wasn’t that he wasn’t fazed by the kiss, he just responded to nervous energy with talking. A lot of talking. “Maybe I’ll move to Brooklyn instead of you coming to Manhattan.”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” Spot mumbled, kissing Race again.

“This is nice, we should do this more often.”

“No shit,” Spot bit at Race’s lip.

Race pulled back slightly, “Did you’se always like me and that’s why you let me—”

Spot cut him off again, pushing closer to keep him from pulling away to start talking again.

...

That first night in Manhattan was the start of something exciting, scary, and a little dangerous. And that wasn’t even considering the strike.

Each rare, spare moment over the next few days found Spot and Race making out in some dark alleyway or shadowy corner. They hadn’t talked about what their relationship meant, or what would happen once the strike was over, and Spot lost his excuse to spend so much time in Manhattan. As often as Race went to Brooklyn, it just wouldn’t be the same. Spot had more eyes on him, it would be harder to hide their relationship, if it was even a relationship.

After Jack was taken away from the rally, Spot sat on the stairs outside the Manhattan lodging house as Race paced in front of him and smoked his way through a cigar at an alarming speed that a cigar was not meant to be smoked.

He stopped suddenly, “Am I in charge, now?”

Spot shrugged and looked back at the door of the lodging house. It was almost 11pm and there wasn’t any noise coming from inside, meaning the boys must have all gone to bed.

“Shit, I can’t be in charge.”

“Race, it’s gonna be fine. I’m sure Jack will find a way to get out of this.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Well, I run a whole borough. If I can do it, you can do it.”

Race gave him a confused look, “But, you’re… you! I don’t gots ya reputation, an intimidating-ass pimp cane,” Spot reached out with his cane and poked Race in the side, causing him to laugh, “or your cute face!”

“You got a cuter face than me, and you gots all those other things too, ‘cause you gots me,” Spot stood up and took a step toward Race. Race had seemed to rise back into high spirits as quickly as he had sunk into worry.

Race tossed away the rest of his cigar and pulled Spot into a kiss. At the sound of footsteps, the two jumped about a mile apart. Davey came barreling toward the lodging house, and in that moment, Race really did have to help lead Manhattan. The boys went inside the lodging house and sat around Kloppman’s desk on the first floor to discuss the strike in hushed tones, Spot right by Race’s side, as promised.

...

The next few days were filled with ups and downs, as the strike seemed to be over as quickly as it had started. For Race, the excitement of standing up to Pulitzer was overshadowed by the sight of Spot being driven back to Brooklyn in Roosevelt’s carriage. He couldn’t help but feel as through things wouldn’t be able to stay the same between them. Spot had returned to Brooklyn without so much as setting up a time to see Race. It had been over a week since Spot had really paid much attention to his newsies in particular, but Race couldn’t help but selfishly wish he actually had been able to convince Spot to move to Manhattan.

Race still crossed the bridge nearly every day to go to Sheepshead to earn a little bit of money selling papes, and lose a lot more money making lousy bets. Before the strike, he had always hurried past the Brooklyn lodging house, sometimes even taking a longer route to avoid passing it, but now he slowed down, taking his time to look at the small window at the very peak of the roof that he knew led to Spot’s room. Spot was probably out selling, or just sitting around looking threatening and unapproachable, Race had never actually seen him sell a pape. But, it was nice to be a part of Spot’s world, to even know which window was his.

“What’re you’se doin’ in Brooklyn? You fixin’ to steal my customers?”

Race turned around and was somewhat embarrassed at how quickly his face broke into a blush and a grin at the sight of Spot. Tongue tied and unable to form a snarky comment, Race responded, “Nah, just coming to see you.”

“Hmm, guess I’ll allow it,” said Spot, rubbing his chin as if he actually had to think about it.

Race tucked his papes under an arm, lighting the cigar that he had been holding between his teeth. The wind coming off the river made it difficult to light and Spot moved to block the wind for him, rolling his eyes.

“You showed me Manhattan, I’ll show you ‘round Brooklyn, c’mon.”

Race was more familiar with Brooklyn than Spot had been with Manhattan, but he didn’t protest as Spot grabbed his hand and led him around the docks surrounding the lodging house. Spot pointed out the various places where he had gotten into (and won) fights, and Race tried to act like he was not both simultaneously very attracted and a little afraid of Spot. They made their way to one of the lowest platforms and sat down with their legs dangling over the edge of the dock. Spot grabbed the cigar out of Race’s mouth.

“Hey! That’s my cigar!”

Spot raised an eyebrow and brought it to his lips.

“I thought you didn’t even like cigars,” Race grumbled.

“I like them when they taste like you.”

The cigar was quickly pressed out onto the smooth wood of the dock and forgotten in favor of actually tasting Race’s lips.

...

There were more days like that. Days that just felt right, happy, and good, like everything was going to work out. Race sold his papes as quickly as possible, then went to find Spot and they spent their evenings together. But it was always like that. Race going to Brooklyn. Race finding Spot. Race putting in the effort. Sure, Spot had lots of responsibilities running Brooklyn, but he could have gone to see Race in Manhattan just once, right? Race didn’t mind going to see Spot, but he wished Spot would do something to show that he actually cared about their relationship. So Race confronted him.

“Why’d’ya never come to Manhattan?”

Spot and Race were sitting on the small section of roof that hung over the back door of the Brooklyn lodging house and sharing a bottle of some shitty, cheap alcohol.

“I gots a lot goin’ on here, Race. I gotta be here in case someone needs me.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” Race’s voice faded out before he could say, ‘but I need you, too.’ “I just feel like you aren’t tryin’ to make this work.”

“I’m not trying?! Race, you were the one having a breakdown at the prospect of running a borough for a few days! This is my fucking life!”

Race swallowed.

“Do you even know how much shit I have to deal with?”

Race shook his head. He didn’t like being yelled at, and he definitely didn’t like being yelled at by Spot.

“Every day it’s something new, someone’s sick, someone got in a fight, someone’s hungry, Manhattan goes on strike over a goddamn tenth of a cent! And I’m the one who has to make all ‘a the decisions! I hardly have time—” Spot hesitated, and Race’s mind filled in the rest, ‘I hardly have time for you.’

“I’m sorry,” Race said in a small voice. He wasn’t normally one to back down from a fight, but Spot hadn’t said anything he could argue against. Spot was a leader, he was important, people counted on him, and Race was just a pretty face to him.

“Forget it.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Spot’s name was called from somewhere inside the lodging house. Spot let out a breath of air and stood to go inside, handing the bottle to Race. He paused at the open window.

“Hey, Spot,” Race started. “Do ya think you could, though?”

“Huh?”

“Come see me in ‘Hattan sometime?”

“I don’t know—”

“This Friday’s m’birthday.”

“Oh,” Spot’s tone softened slightly. “Yeah, I could probably be there at like 9pm?”

Spot crawled through the window without any further goodbye, and left Race sitting alone on the roof, which would have been a dangerous combination any time, but the addition of alcohol made it even more so. Race followed into the lodging house before he could fall and break his neck, and made his way back to Manhattan feeling empty.

...

On Friday night, Race sat on Kloppman’s desk and watched the clock on the wall, absently tapping his heel against the base of the desk in time with the ticking, and humming, ‘happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.’ It was almost 10pm and Spot still hadn’t shown up. It was dark outside and even though Race trusted Spot to take care of himself, Race couldn’t help but worry. He waited another five minutes, then jumped off the desk and walked out onto the dark streets of Manhattan, heading toward the bridge. If Spot wouldn’t come to him, Race would go to him, and give him a piece of his mind. Race grew more and more frustrated with each step, and justified the anger in his mind, convincing himself that Spot never cared about him and refused to put in any effort and had just been leading him on. By the time Race made it to the bridge, he had made up his mind that he hated Spot and huffed out an irritated sigh before beginning to cross into Brooklyn.

It was dark over the water between the sparse streetlights on the bridge, and about halfway through his angry stomping across the bridge, Race smacked directly into another person. A fist flew into his jaw before he could even react, knocking him sideways toward the railing.

“The fuck d’ya think you’re goin’?” the assailant growled, stepping closer. A car drove by, illuminating the scene, and the tone changed entirely. “Shit, Race?!”

Spot, realizing it was his own dumb boyfriend who had run into him, quickly moved forward to grab Race more tenderly.

“What the fuck, Spot?” Race spit. He was more mad about Spot not coming over to Manhattan at 9, but the punch hadn’t helped his mood.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you! Happy birthday!”

“I didn’t mean the fuckin’ punch, where were you?!”

“I—” Race cut off Spot by punching him in the face. He hit Spot’s cheekbone and his knuckles throbbed.

“What’re you doing?” Spot yelled as Race connected another punch with the side of Spot’s face.

Spot grabbed at his arms and attempted to push him against the railing of the bridge. Race kicked him in the shin and Spot dropped his arms, taking a step back.

“What the fuck? Why are you hurting me? I love you!” Spot screamed, his voice cracking.

Race froze for a second, fist raised and poised to punch Spot in the mouth. He realized they were both crying. It was the first time Spot had said he loved him, but at this point, it just hurt Race even more. “This doesn’t feel like love anymore.” He finished the punch with significantly less gusto than he had planned, and Spot just stood there and took it. Spot kept his mouth clenched shut and breathed loudly through his nose as he watched Race walk back across the bridge to Manhattan.

Race disappeared into the dark night and a few minutes past as Spot stood on the bridge, staring at the lights of Manhattan in the distance. He leaned over the railing and screamed into the dark water below.

...

Race left an hour earlier than normal to go selling next day so he could walk a roundabout route to avoid crossing as many Brooklyn newsies as possible. The Brooklyn Bridge was an unavoidable evil though, even an hour earlier in the day, and Race hurried past the seething glares of countless angry Brooklyn boys. He didn’t see Spot, but he could feel him in every glare directed his way. Race hadn’t done anything wrong; it was Spot who hadn’t put any effort into their relationship, Spot who had ruined it. That’s what Race kept telling himself at least, though a part of him was still stuck on Spot screaming that he loved him the night before, wondering if maybe it was Race who had overreacted.

Race distracted himself with his work, pawning off bad news and betting on all the wrong horses. It took his mind off of Spot for a bit, but the return trip to Manhattan across the bridge loomed over him all day.

Sure enough, on his way back from the racetrack, Race saw him. Spot was standing at the end of the bridge, face peppered with bruises and arms crossed confrontationally as he talked to the small group of Brooklyn newsies gathered around him. He glanced up as Race neared, squaring his jaw and straightening his posture. Race looked Spot dead in the eye as he approached, and brushed past him.

[bookocd]

Velaris University

So this is my first try at a college AU and while it was super fun to write, I would love for some feedback if anyone has any! Also please let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates or have prompts for this series (I will def need them) 

Thanks for reading! I hope you like it :)

Here is my masterlist of fanfics is anyone wants it! 

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Chapter 1:

“I just think it’s stupid.” The entire car trip had been the same conversation playing on repeat. I was getting a headache. 

“I know exactly what you think Nesta. You’ve only said it about twenty times.” 

“I don’t understand why anyone would go to college with a boyfriend.” 

“You don’t actually think that, you just hate Tamlin.” I was rubbing temples fiercely, and let out a sigh of relief as the Velaris University sign came into focus ahead of us. 

“He lost my respect when he threatened to break up with you if you didn’t follow him to SCC.” The moment I told her, I regretted it and I couldn’t help my frown from deepening.

“Nes you need to let that go, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was just upset. We were both upset.”

The fight I had with my boyfriend flashed in my mind, and I had to stop myself from physically cringing. 

I was hugging myself with tears running down my face. 

“Feyre, did you really think that I would be happy?” His voice was quiet, like it was also waiting for the inevitable explosion. We were standing in the greenhouse that was connected to his families mansion. This was the place they had shared their first kiss, their first time having sex, and also their first I love you’s. A thought crossed my mind that this would also be the space we had out first breakup.

“This-s program is m-my dream Tam. It’s what I want to do with my l-life.” It was hard to get the words out through the sobs. 

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Suddenly there were plants on the ground and one of the tables was on its side. I backed up, the sobs increasing. He turned to me with a feral look on his face, and yelled, “I thought this was our life! You’re being so fucking selfish.”

I tried to stammer out an apology, but he put his hand out to silence me, a command.

“If you do this, we are over.” The glow from the greenhouse light made him look angelic, with his long golden hair and perfectly angled face. This would have been the perfect picture if he wasn’t glowering. He waited for a minute with his chest moving up and down with his quick breaths. He was waiting for me to change my mind, but I wasn’t going to. 

He finally realized what my silence meant, and kicked over another table of flowers. A pot landed right at my feet and shattered instantly. It reminded me of my heart. He retreated into his house, slamming the door behind him. 

“Being upset is not an excuse to be a dick.”  Her comment brought me back to the present.  “And it scares me that you think it does” she continued. I wasn’t going to tell her that it scared me too. I also wasn’t going to tell her, or anyone else, about his more violent reactions. I just kept telling myself that those responses were not directed toward me. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I love him, we are together, and that’s all I have to say.” She turned her blue Chevy into the parking lot of Apartment Hall D, which was where I would be living for the next year. I could see the whites of her knuckles as she gripped the steering wheel, readying herself for another round. Before she could start again, I asked.  “Can we just unpack the car please?”

Her glaring eyes and stiff posture showed how hard it was for her to drop the topic, but she ended up shaking her head, parking the truck, and opening the car door.

—

Nesta and I climbed the three flights of stairs to apartment 304, and I wondered if there was roof access.

“Feyre the key,” Nesta’s labored breath and arms full of boxes, had me reaching into my purse and digging for my keys. Finally finding them and feeling a glare on the back of my neck, I opened the door to my new home. 

Walking into the open concept apartment, I was very happy over my decision to not live in a dorm. The only reason I could afford this was because of my scholarship, but I wanted space to paint and I wanted Tamlin to have the ability to visit whenever he wanted. The kitchen was directly to the left of the door, with yellow cabinets, a large oven and fridge, and a large white granite island. The apartment was furnished, so the room beyond the kitchen had a medium sized couch with blue cushions with a navy armchair next to it. Both the couch and chair were facing a white wall where a wooden TV stand sat, which was empty if the occupants couldn’t afford one. This occupant could not. Past the living area, a glass door led out to a small deck that had a view of the whole campus. I pushed open the door and felt the morning breeze hit my face. The sun was rising and the light reflected off all the windows, which ate every shadow in sight. The University was almost golden. 

Reluctantly I tore myself from the beautiful sight.

Turning back I went looking for my bedroom. A small laundry room and pantry directly next to the kitchen. A small hallway showed three more doors, two on the far side and one on the closest side. One was an empty bed room, with a spacious closet, a bed frame with a mattress, a small dresser, and a worn wooden desk and chair in the corner. The room was small and the furniture was old, but the view from the window was worth it. It was the opposite side from the deck, so I was looking out onto the city of Velaris. The ocean was visible and so were the mountains that surrounded the north side of the city. The morning sun was illuminating the water making it sparkle, and I knew that I would live in a shoe if it had this view. 

My randomly assigned roommate was no where to be seen, but the next room was already filled to the brink with clothing, makeup, and jewelry. I was excited to hopefully have a friend I could borrow some clothes from, even though half of it I could never pull off. Nesta, however, took one look at the dresser, which was overflowing with lingerie, and scoffed. Her scoff was covering the embarrassed look and blush now covering her face. I had to hide my snort with a cough. My sister being uncomfortable was very rare, so the fact that underwear is what caused it was fucking hilarious. I immediately got out my phone and sent a text to Tam. 

NESTA IS SCARED OF UNDERWEAR!!

haha mens or womens?

Apparently women’s

knew she had to be afraid of something

maybe you should change your wardrobe to just underwear just to make her uncomfortable 

i would fully support that

Pig lol

I smiled at my phone, at the semblance of normalcy between us. 

I glanced into the small bathroom across the hall. There was a shower, toilet, and a nice double sink. One half of said sink was covered by perfumes, curling irons, and other hair products. The colors were so vivid and varied that they stood out from the dull white bathroom, like paint splatter on a white canvas. 

After our tour of the apartment, my sister was silent as we carried up bags and boxes from the bed of her truck to my room. After everything was pilled into my small room, and a box of kitchen supplies was left sitting on the island, Nesta made a gesture for me to follow her back downstairs. She lived in a small single bedroom apartment across campus. She had told me that she needed her own space as a third year, so we couldn’t save money and just live together. I didn’t humor myself into thinking that her answer wasn’t utter bullshit.

When we stepped out of the building and into the warm day, I found myself saying, “Thank you… for driving me and helping me bring up all my stuff.” 

As she was climbing back into her truck, she hesitated. The hard look she pinned me with over her shoulder, had me bracing for the impact of her inevitable words. 

“Don’t come crying to me Feyre when he finally does something that being upset doesn’t excuse.” 

Nesta always was the worst at goodbyes. 

—

Even though classes didn’t start for another 3 days, I started unpacking my art supplies and organizing them into my desk drawers. I had only just started when I heard the front door open. 

“Dude I can’t believe you got a rando.” The low voice was scratchy, sexy, and loud enough to hear, even with my door closed. 

“I’m getting bored with you guys, so I need new friends.” I heard at least 3 different sets of laughter, all of them male. The female, who was my new roommate, had such a soft song like voice and I knew she was probably beautiful. I suddenly became self conscious of myself with my brown hair tied back in a low bun and no makeup on.

“What if she’s insane?”

“What if she doesn’t like you?”

“What if she doesn’t like us?”

“Can all of you guys just shut up?”

The bickering continued until my roommate must have seen one of my boxes, because then she started to kick them out. 

“Get out. Get out!” Laughing started and ended abruptly with the slamming of the door. I heard the door open once more. 

“Mor you know we are just screwing with you. I really do want you to have a friend here, especially after everything that happened last year. Bring her over at some point so we can meet her. Love you cuz.” I had never thought a voice could be beautiful, but that was the only word the would do it justice. That voice would haunt my dreams. 

I tried to forget the voice and focus on meeting my new roommate. 

A small knock had me jumping up and running across the room. As I was reaching to open the door, it was opened for me and hit me in the face. 

“Shit,” I huffed as I stumbled back holding my nose. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry.” I uncovered my hands to look at the girl who had just nailed me in the face. She was gorgeous. Her long golden hair was in loose ringlets, striking against her perfectly tanned skin. She was wearing a skin-tight red tank top with a very low v-neck paired with leather pants. Her eyes were big, brown, and beautiful, which matched the rest of her symmetrical face and gold jewelry adorned her neck, ears, and fingers. 

“Well you’re hot,” I breathed. Her responding smile was so genuine I was sure that anyone who saw it would have to smile too. 

She stood straight, hands on her hips, and asked, “How hard did I hit you?” I laughed at her response, because there was so no way she was oblivious to her attractiveness. 

I finally stood up, the pain in my face fading, and extended my hand to her. 

“My name is Feyre. It’s really nice to meet you.” Her soft manicured hand felt near fragile in my paint stained and blistered one. 

“I’m Morrigan, but everyone calls me Mor. I’m gonna guess that you’re an art major?” She sent a pointed look toward my mountain of art supplies. 

“Good guess. What about you?”

“I’m a second year phycology major. So be honest, how is your face?”

I laughed and shook my head. “It’s fine. I think I was shocked more than actually hurt.”

“I swear that will be the only time I physically hurt you. I’ve been told that I get on people’s nerves, so I can’t say anything about the your sanity.” We had only known each other for a couple of minutes, but I knew that I liked this girl. This was the type of girl I never got to be friends with growing up. For many many reasons.  

She continued, “My friends will literally die when they hear this story.” 

“Well if our relationship works out than it’ll also be a great story to tell the grandkids,” I said trying not to think of her cousins voice at the mention of her friends. 

“Ha ha very funny. Actually we were all going out to—” She was cut off by my phone. I apologized and turned toward the sounds and found it lying on my bed. 

Incoming Call from Tamlin

I looked at her with a cringe and explained, “It’s my boyfriend. I have nothing going on tomorrow. Would you maybe want to…”  Her growing smile had me continuing. “Hang out with me?” 

“Yes yes! I can show you around campus, the best shops in Velaris, and introduce you to my friends.” My face was hurting from my own smile. I nodded at her and my phone stopped going off. Even the fight I knew that would be inevitable from me not answering his phone call, wasn’t enough to stop me from smiling at my new roommate. 

She turned and headed toward the door, but turned back before going through it. 

“I’m really excited for tomorrow,” she said with a curt nod. Then she was out the door before I could return the sentiment. 

I picked up my phone to redial my boyfriends number, but Mor poked her head in again. 

“Oh and I think you’re hot too.” With a wink she was gone. I laughed out loud and all of a sudden I felt ready for the incoming year, because I now had a friend to help me through it. 

—

After all of my research on Velaris, I came to one final conclusion: the nights were supposedly epic. And in the wake of a day spent unpacking, I was ready to see it for myself. 

While I was tired from my non-fight with Tamlin, I also found myself restless. The whole conversation was Tam forcing himself to not be mad and instead just making our talk draining and fake. I finally told him that I needed to go and get some books for school so I could get off the phone. 

Things would get better. 

I forced the phone call out of my head and focused on something exciting and new. 

Mor was gone before I could ask about the roof access in the building, but I decided to go and find out for myself. I walked into the stairwell and headed up. This building had ten floors, so I was breathless when I finally reached the top. An unmarked door came into my view and as I pushed it open a rush of fresh air filled my lungs. 

The roof was bare, except for an air unit, two beach chairs, and a railing around the edge, but I found myself not looking at the roof at all. 

The sky was incredible. The stars were brighter than I had ever seen, and the city was alive in front of me. I instantly found myself at the railing. The apartment building was on the edge of campus, so from one side all you could see was the school, but on the other side the city and ocean was the only thing in view. I couldn’t peel my eyes from the sight. 

People were laughing and strolling through the cobblestone streets and lights of all different colors were coming out of windows and doors throughout the city. 

The city was alive. 

Throughout my life I had never felt at home or even wanting to be part of one, but I had this feeling that Velaris was made for me. Or maybe I was made for it. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” I jumped at the voice behind me. I somehow lost my footing and my feet flew forward. I landed on my butt with a thud.

“Holy fuck! You scared the shit out of me.” I started to turn toward the stranger while on the ground, ready to be livid. My heartbeat increased to unhealthy levels as my eyes met ones of violet. The man in front of me was something forged from my dreams. His black hair was made of the night sky above us and his chiseled features looked carved out of stone. He was wearing blue jeans and a grey crewneck, which seemed plain, but nothing on this man could ever be plain. While I couldn’t see his body, I knew that he was fit, he filled out his jeans like they were tailored for him. 

He had slowly moved forward, like he was going toward a cornered animal, and when he was directly in front of me, he held a hand out to help me up. The laughter in his eyes and the smirk on his face took my focus away from his attractiveness and kick started my anger again. 

“Don’t look so upset love, most girls fall head over heels for me.” 

“Are you sure they aren’t falling while trying to run away?” His eyes lit up in challenge, but I dismissed him by jumping up and turning toward the city again. 

He did not get the message and I felt him lounging on the rail next to me. I glanced to my left and he wasn’t staring toward the ocean, he was staring at me. 

“Could you stop that,” I snapped. It was apparently the wrong thing to say. His eyes shone brighter than the stars above us. 

“What is your name love?” 

I put my elbows on the rail and leaned forward as I sighed out, “Feyre.”

“And why are you up here all alone Feyre?” 

“That kinda sounded a little creepy.”

His laugh filled my soul and I smiled slightly. “I’ve never been called creepy.”

“And what do people usually call you?” 

“Sexy, amazing, smart, endowed—”

“You’re certainly full of yourself,” I cut him off. 

An ocean kissed wind blew my hair backwards. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the salty air. We fell into a comfortable silence. I’m not sure how long we stood there, watching the city from afar.  I was unsure why I felt so safe, standing on a roof with a complete stranger. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw that I had a message from Tamlin.

i’m sorry for earlier baby. i love you and ill talk to you in the morning.

His apology made me think I was doing something wrong. I started to retreat and walk backwards toward the roof door. Purple eyes followed my movements with an unreadable expression. 

“Are you running from me Feyre.” The smirk was gone and I felt a pang in my gut.

“No. It’s just getting late and I should probably get back downstairs.”

“I can walk you—”

“No!” I realized how loud it came out when his mouth turned downwards. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around…” 

Oh my god I never asked his name. I grimaced, and inwardly smacked my palm on my forehead. I looked to him for assistance. He made long strides until he was inches from me, my back hitting the door. It was then I realized just how tall this man was, I was almost looking straight up.

“Rhysand,” was all he said. 

“Okay nice to meet you. I have to go. Not that I’m scared. Or nervous.” Cringing as I rambled, I felt behind me for the door handle. When I found it, I pulled it. This backfired on me by pushing me forward into Rhysand. 

Chest to chest, I hoped he couldn’t feel my heart beating. His breath caressed my cheek, I couldn’t help but shutter. Seeing his eyes widen and flash with desire, I awkwardly squeaked out a goodbye and all but sprinted down the stairs. 

I didn’t stop running until I got to my apartment and then into my own room. I fell down onto the bed ready for this whole night to be over. I answered Tamlin’s text with a simple I love you, turned my phone off, and then I threw it on the ground. 

You did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong. 

I found myself repeating the sentence over and over again. I knew I had done nothing wrong, but I couldn’t help the feeling that I did. Moving to the ground, I sat below my window, opening it slightly, letting the sounds of the ocean lull me to sleep. The only thing calming enough to do so. That and the name of the man who I couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Rhysand 

Thanks for reading!!! xoxo

[hysteriium]

Expect the Unexpected

Gif not mine!

(A/N): Okay maybe this is really specific, but there’s this one scent that’s literally the best smell I’ve ever smelt in my entire life? It’s like an oceany scented candle - my description literally does not do it justice I made it sound gross - and omg idk why but I could literally just picture Arthur having something along the lines of this cologne?? But maybe I’m biased. Here it is if you wanna check it out but omg like I’m not even joking when I say it’s the best thing I’ve ever smelt (and I collect a shit load of candles).  

!! ALSO - FORGOT TO MENTION ‘C/n’ = child’s name !! lol 

Summary: I honestly don’t know what to write for this one?? AHAHAH

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Single mum!Reader

Word count: 8600k+ (I know, I know, shhhh). 

Warnings: 18+ SMUT STUFF! Fluff and swearing! 

////

When Arthur found himself in the slowly decaying, yet otherwise well taken care of backyard of one of his requestors, performing under the gloomy Gotham sky, never, would he have expected it to change his life. Especially for the better. No, never had he thought, for the better. 

Arthur fiddled with his wig, the tips of his fingers scurrying under the strip of white which crossed his forehead, adjusting it. The fake, frizzy green locks were no longer lopsided, and he continued his routine in front of the kids before him. Laughter filled his ears. The only merriment he was accustomed to, and on that same train of thought, welcomed. It was nothing like the devious cackles of those who made fun of him. 

No, the laughs before him were honest and kind; they appreciated him. Most touching of all, and similarly foreign to him, was the fact that they actually asked for his jokes. 

He often wondered where things went wrong. When exactly did children, who were, for the most part, good-natured and compassionate, turn into horrible people? Transforming into the very same type that treated him like a punching bag? How and why, did they soak up the resentment of the world like a sponge? 

He supposed it was during adolescence. 

Teenagers were mean. 

That much was evident from the purple blotches on his back, markings that were still yet to dissipate, and tender to touch. From such a horrible experience, at least he was able to draw one positive out of it. The positive being that his clown costume was ridiculous enough to hide his battered and bruised body. Away from prying eyes. 

Then again, it wasn't like anyone would have cared.  

Ultimately, he tried his best not to focus on the path his thoughts were leading him down. One of his biggest struggles was staying in the moment, and right now, with the crucial task of performing for a child's birthday, he needed to be grounded. To emphasise this, Arthur dug his nails into his palms. Painful enough to snap him out of his digression, lax enough to keep the blood rushing and undisturbed under tested skin.  

As Arthur was finishing up his act, the magic wand which he seemingly pulled out of nowhere - at least from the kids' perspectives, produced a collective awe. He waved it around, bouncing from toe to toe in his giant clown shoes, flicking it towards the birthday boy. Said child was a small, (h/c) haired boy with twinkling (e/c) eyes; his name, (C/n). 

(C/n) flinched when the wand was suddenly centimetres from his face. Though, he giggled when he saw the expression on the clown's profile. It feigned shock, a gasp leaving his apple-red painted mouth. The clown, which the child only knew as 'Carnival' retracted the stick, inspecting it with squinted eyes. Alongside this, his spare hand flew up to his face, scratching his chin in thought, looking as though he had never encountered such a complex dilemma in his entire life. 

Then, without warning, the wand fell. No longer as sturdy as a stick, it wilted like a dying flower. The clown panicked, watching as it wiggled around in his desperate hands like a worm. While all seemed gloomy for the fate of the magic item in his hands, the children were giggling gleefully, intrigued at what would happen next. It was times like these that made Arthur's job bearable; made life bearable.

All he wanted was to make people smile.

Arthur, pretending as though he was about to give up, engaged with the object in one last attempt, the flick of his wrist propelling the rod into the air. Much to the children's astonishment, the wand had straightened itself, snapping back to its previously sturdy arrangement, with no sign of its prior drooping. 

They had long since formed a circle around the colourful man, looking up in wonder, clapping for him.

Arthur then slipped the item back into his pocket, performing a victory clasp. He threw his interlocked hands over his shoulders and shook them in response to the applause. When the children hushed their amazement, Arthur stuck his pointer finger in the air, wordlessly requesting their attention. His eyes then shut tight as he concentrated. Whipping out the rod from his pocket once more, he gave it one final spin. 

The children waited.

Nothing happened. 

Arthur opened his eyes. Confused. It was difficult for him to process what happened next because it all happened so quickly. One second he was puzzled, the next he was rendered stunned, with a face submerged in flowers. First, he had heard it, the sprout, as a prominent 'whoosh' filled the air. Then he felt it; felt it tickling his nose. 

The flowers themselves were not real ones, but they were vivid; pinks, purples, greens and yellows sprouting from the wand's end. Trying to play it off as though it was planned all along, Arthur mimed a sneeze, shaking his head. 

With a sheepish grin, the clown pulled back. His face was now safe from the sinister touch of the vibrant, ticklish extensions, and he handed the hued bouquet to the birthday boy, hunching over to reach him. It wasn't hard to decipher what the boy was thinking. Unquestionably, a mixture of amusement and joy as laughter bubbled from his throat; his joviality a contagious song. 

And thus concluded Arthur's act. 

"You're so cool Carnival!" (C/n) hollered, waving the newly acquired flowers around. 

Arthur beamed down at the boy. 

"When I grow up, I want to be just like you!"

Arthur attempted to restrain the look of pain which crossed his animated features. 

No, kid. No, you don't. 

Not wanting to ignore the poor child, he shot (C/n) a forced smile and ruffled his (h/c) hair.

"No. One day, you're going to be even better." 

The child gawked up at him, hope dancing in his gem-like eyes, reflecting light. 

Thankfully, the moment didn't last long as Arthur's concentration was ripped from the depressing interaction. He had caught a glimpse of you, the parent, entering the backyard. You had tried to smoothly open the door, an attempt to reduce the obnoxious squeaking from the object, though your steady pace was futile. Despite the hesitant speed at which it was tugged, it was a protest that sustained. 

It was just another complaint to add to the shitty standard in Gotham; everything was half-assed. A primary disease which ate at the heart of the city, decaying and transforming it into the bleak, loveless and harsh mother it was. When you were one of Gotham's children, affection was seldom. No matter how hard you tried to impress the mother, to display your achievements, to show strength, to get back up when you fell, the mother remained emotionless. Perhaps, she kicked you down some more.

Gotham was her name, and tough love was her game. 

Arthur watched you, in all his costumed glory, and drunk in the way your hair was softly carried by the wind. How your skin was kissed by the suns rays; how you moved away from the shading of the roof, which protruded meters from the brick walls of the house, spotlighting your features. He honestly felt like he was in a movie, a movie that was set up for disaster - knowing his luck. He couldn't wait for the great mystery of how he was going to screw up, to unravel before his eyes. Could he even call it a mystery? He knew it was inevitable. A non-mysterious mystery? Expecting the unexpected except it was actually unexpected, though somehow, still expected?

Did that even make sense? He thought. 

His brain hurt.

What was he doing again? 

"Mum!" (C/n) shouted, rushing up to you, simultaneously breaking Arthur's buzzing thoughts as well as the one-sided staring contest he had engaged in. 

"Hey, there buckaroo!" you grabbed onto his small form and hoisted him up against your hip, "how's my big boy?" 

Arthur watched the heart-warming scene from afar, sorrow tugging at his heart. He couldn't help but flick through his memories, to try and find a time where his mother had been just as caring. Limited, but nonetheless there, he yearned for change; for his past to change. He'd been the man of the house for as long as he could remember. Even at a young age. With no father or even knowledge of him, he was forced to take care of his mother. And while he loved his mother, with all his heart, it was an arduous task to take care of yourself and your own needs when you were supporting someone else. 

"Good!" The child giggled in your arms, "Carnival is my favourite clown! Can we have him over every week?"

You couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"I don't know buddy, I-"

"Please, please, please, please, please?" (C/n) whined, looking up at you with large hopeful (e/c) eyes.  

"Run along and play, and maybe I'll talk to him," you tapped his nose, "that sound good?"  

The boy frantically nodded his head, and as you set him down, he bolted off to join his friends. When he was on the other side of the yard, you turned towards the party clown. 

"Sorry about that," you sheepishly grinned. 

Arthur didn't really know what to say, the scene before him had truly made his heartthrob. It was a warmth that left him with some strange mix of belonging and attachment. Never before had he felt so appreciated. He wanted to say something, be honest, express his gratitude. And so, he said the first thing that came to mind:

"It's fine." 

He wanted to kick himself. 

"It's kind of strange how much he likes you. He's never really open. He can be quite..."

"Shy," Arthur finished for you.  

When you gave him a quizzical look, he was quick to explain, "I-I, uh, I was the same." 

Your lips upturned into a soft smile.

"Well, (C/n) must've picked up on it. Kid's are good like that - sensitive to vibes. It means you've got a good heart." 

Arthur fidgeted, the words melting him. 

"Oh! Um, thank you for coming on such short notice…sorry, I never caught your name?" 

"A-Arthur." 

"Glad to know your name's not actually Carnival."

His eyes sparkled at your joke, his amusement filling the yard.

"You're probably exhausted, come, I'll make some tea. Or coffee? Is there something you prefer?" 

He was about to protest, not wanting to bother you, to go back home to his crummy apartment and lose himself in his journal for the rest of the day, but something compelled him to agree to the offer. He wasn't sure what.

"Coffee is okay, thank you," his smile hadn't left. 

When you turned to lead, his eyes flew to your hands, searching for a ring. He also wasn't sure why he let himself.

There was none, however; no jewellery at all. 

Huh.

He quickly caught up and shuffled inside after you. 

"This really means a lot," you started, closing the screen door before turning to face him, "to me and, obviously to my son..." 

A sombre look replaced your smile.

"...I haven't seen him this happy since we moved," you looked back at (c/n), watching him jump up and down with his friends, their voices filtering through the mesh. 

"You're not from Gotham?"

You shook your head, rounding him to shift further into the kitchen, behind the counter. His eyes followed your zipping from, moving when you were out of view. 

"Sugar?" 

Arthur found his hands fidgeting with his wig again, refusing eye contact. A soft 'sure' passed his lips, followed by a 'two, thank you' as the porcelain clink of mugs being placed, echoed. The soft scatter of sugar followed soon after.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Arthur. You can sit down if you'd like." 

The scraping of the chair from behind told you that he listened. 

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. You could tell he was starting to open up, less nervous than when you had first spoken to him. It was endearing. 

"With all due respect miss-

"(Y/n)," you interrupted, turning to grin at the man. You noticed he had taken his wig off, his red foam nose too, displaying his almost raven coloured locks and chiselled features.  

"(Y/n), he repeated. The way your name rolled off his tongue had your stomach fluttering, a sensation that caught you off guard. 

"Why did you move to Gotham? It's not exactly the...best place to be." 

"Life works in funny ways," you started, "one minute you're on top of the world, the next the floor crumbles beneath you, and suddenly you're in a hole." 

Boy, did Arthur understand. Although he knew you weren't able to see him, with your back turned towards him, he nodded his head frantically. How were you able to so eloquently sum up his life? His whole existence? 

"Sorry, I'm oversharing," you awkwardly laughed. 

"No! I know what you mean..." 

With one flick of the kettle's trigger, you returned to Arthur. 

"I take it you're a native Gothamite?" 

He nodded. 

"I live with my moth- … my mother," his voice lost confidence towards the end as if he was ashamed of such a fact. 

This was only supported when he scrambled to get out his next words, "she needs help sometimes, and I'm the only one who's around to take care of her."  

"I'm all she has…" 

You gave him a reassuring smile, gently touching his interlocked hands which were resting on the table. He flinched at the contact. 

"You don't need to justify yourself, Arthur. I'm sure your mother's proud to have raised such a compassionate man."

You had caught him off guard - that was for sure. Flicking through the entirety of your interactions wasn't needed to come to the glaringly obvious conclusion that he wasn't used to being complimented. That he wasn't used to any form of nicety, and that fact well and truly broke your heart.

Who had hurt him?

Arthur had yet to find evidence of repulsion - yet to find anything that indicated you were weirded out by him; like the guys at work. He relaxed into the hold a second later, when he realised it wasn't anything threatening. Or, part of some malicious, ulterior motive.

"As strange as this might sound, you're really easy to talk to, Arthur. You're a good listener."  

"Really?" He couldn't hold back the crooked, love-struck grin that infiltrated his features, and he was about to compliment you too when the shrieking of the kettle broke up the moment, causing you to pull away from him.

He felt cold; the warming action starkly contrasted with the wind which permeated through the mesh door.

In seconds, you had returned with your steaming beverages, warning of the burning hazards, though your touch hadn't returned. 

Fast-forwarding through the small talk and the stories which decorated your conversation, Arthur eventually finished his coffee, and never before had he been so smitten. Out of all the jobs he'd gotten this week, which weren't many, this had been the most enjoyable. Although his work here had finished a while ago, he had tried to stretch out the minutes, just to hold onto the glimmer of happiness he knew would dissipate as soon as he left. He could feel time laughing at him, sticking its ghastly tongue out while telepathically hammering the fact home. He couldn't drag it out any longer. 

And so, when it was time for him to leave, heading towards the door, he paused and swallowed his pride, doing what he thought was best. 

"Did you want to get dinner sometime?" He said, turning back around as he placed an awkward arm against the arch of the hallway, leaning on it. He saw it in movies. The cool, nonchalant characters always got the girl, so it must work. 

Right? 

No, that was stupid, he thought. 

He forced the limb down, it bumping against his side. 

His fingernails dug into his palms again, for the second time that day, pressing against the very same spots as he waited for a response. He was expecting rejection. No way would she say yes, what was he thinking? At least he could say he tried; at least he'd had one positive interaction in the last few months. 

Sorry kiddo, guess Carnival's not coming back. 

His negative thoughts were disrupted by the sound of your reply. A reply in which made him delighted for taking a chance. 

Because your next words were nothing but a sweet package of glazed agreement.

"I'd love to." 

Uttering something about a day and a time, to which you agreed, he quickly found his way out of the house. 

When he slipped outside into the fresh air, he shut the front door. Away from everyone's gaze - at least those he cared about, namely you. He felt compelled to move. One of his legs with a mind of its own crossed over the other, twirling him around against your patterned brick pathway; a path in which led to the small gated exit. His arms then followed a similar pattern, striking the air, drumming into it. With one slide, the soles of his shoes skated against concrete, pushing him towards the iron gate. He felt good as he opened it. He felt confident. Laughter bubbled from his lips, failing to halt as he travelled further and further away from your house. 

He smiled all the way home.

And, it was only until he reached said home, emptying out his pockets while changing into more comfortable clothes, that his fingers brushed up against a flat, smooth surface; thin and malleable. He wrapped his digits over the peculiar material and brought it to eye-level, palm exposed. 

It was a small, folded piece of paper. White, though crumbled from being cramped up in his pocket. 

He didn't remember placing it in there...

Arthur's eyes grew wide when he unravelled the mysterious sheet, a line of numbers taking up a good portion of its space. Below it was a small 'call me - (Y/n)' written out neatly, a drastic variation to his own child-like scribbles. He reclined his head against a nearby wall, letting his childish exuberance take over. 

Turns out you were quite the magician yourself. 

———

Arthur sat alone, leg jittering as his eyes glanced back and forth from the clock on the pale wall opposite him, above the entrance. With each darting glance, barely a minute between them, he became increasingly aware of the chatter around him. While there weren't many people in the area with him as the tables were more empty than they were filled, he was highly conscious of the fact that he was the only one there without company. 

For the first time, he looked out the window he rested against. The chilled frame soothed his hot face as he watched people stroll by, hoping to catch you. His attempts were, sadly, in vain. 

You were late. 

When he returned his gaze to look back at the clock again, he tried his hardest not to make eye contact with any of the staff. He knew that if he did, they'd flock to him like a swarm of bees. Instead, he kept his head low, pretending to look at the menu.

After another five minutes passed before the bell hanging off the door finally rang. His gaze immediately shot to the noise, locking with yours. Air left his mouth, both in relief and at the red dress you were wearing, coincidentally matching his own red suit. It hugged your figure, complimenting every curve, and he tried his hardest to keep his eyes from wandering. 

You hadn't stood him up.

As your beaming face lit up the world around him, your clacking heels took you to the booth opposite him, observing the room with a smile as you did so. 

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" You exclaimed, placing your purse down, sandwiched by you and the wall.

"Kids," you rolled your eyes.

"You came," were his first words, his eyes riddled with a strange confusion, yet a light - hope. He believed he had articulated his surprise internally, that was, until you gave him a look.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"  

"I-I don't know." He sputtered out. 

He did. 

As you both got settled in, Arthur for the first time that night willingly made eye contact with one of the servers. Your orders were speedily jotted down and taken to the chef within minutes. 

Conversation flowed, and his jokes actually got a reaction out of you, much to his surprise. The tension, or rather the anxious energy that seemed to bounce off the two of you melted, fading away light the lights of the cars that sped by the open window. In its absence, a playful aura took told. Small touches here and there, and your leg which rubbed against his, even if it was accidental, left his head spinning. This, he thought, was bliss. 

"So," you started, a finger twirling around a strand of (h/c) hair, "I've decided." 

Arthurs brows furrowed, allowing you to continue. 

"I have to tell you something," you said, rubbing your hands against your dress; a nervous tick.

A finger curled into his collar, tugging at it to cool his heating body temperature. Arthur's anxiety which was already a mess, exacerbated from hearing one of the most infamously terrifying phrases.  

"I feel like it'll be good for me to open up - I haven't told anyone since I've left. No one really knew in the first place, except a few friends." 

Arthur didn't know what to say. 

It sounded serious. Your words held a unique gravity to them. And while he felt the air around them shift, from light-hearted and playful, to darker, more solemn, he could tell you had been repressing what you were about to tell him for a good while. He knew the look. 

His hand reached over the table to meet yours. They were timid, brushing against yours experimentally until he knew you were comfortable with his affection.

"How the tables have turned," you joked, allowing his hand to slip into yours.  

"I was in a nasty relationship," you started off wavering, a sigh passing into the air, "I only dared to leave a few months ago." 

Arthur's heart virtually broke as you revealed this to him. He watched as you swallowed the lump in your throat, noting how your eyes started to flutter from the stinging of tears. 

"It endangered me and my son. It took a lot of strength to leave, but I had to for (C/n). He's my world, and I care about him more than myself." 

Tears by now had fallen, running down your cheeks. Arthur intently listened to your confession. 

"Moving to Gotham was the only way we could start over, and if I could have given him a better life, I would have, but it was the best I could do. I just wanted to see him happy again." 

You let out another sigh, trying to blink away a few of the stray tears, though Arthur beat you to it, his hands moving to your face, wiping them with his thumbs. He felt how you leant into his touch, your eyes falling shut with a sniffle. As grim as the situation was, he was happy you were comfortable enough to tell him such a heartbreaking story.

"Sorry," you mumbled, forcing a laugh out to mask your vulnerability. Arthur saw right through it.

He gave you a look, one that virtually said 'are you serious?' before he spoke, exasperated, "what for?" 

"I don't know...for crying? For dropping this on you, for-" 

"Hey," Arthur's thick, dark eyebrows furrowed, his hands still cupping your face, "if I even had half the strength of you, I'd-"

"I'd-"

Arthur paused, his voice coming out as chokes.

Oh no. 

He felt an overly-familiar twitch in his throat, a reflex in which he tried to stifle by clamping his mouth shut, contorting his face in pain to keep it at bay.  

He never could. 

And then, at the worst possible moment, the worst he could possibly think of, he hunched over and wheezed, cackling over the table. Your eyes, riddled with confusion from the lost contact, was promptly replaced with hurt at his sudden laughter. 

He quickly noticed this, shaking his head. 

Everyone else in the establishment, with what few were there, reared their heads to the ruckus, watching Arthur spiral. 

"I-I'm so-" he started, desperate to contain himself. 

It only made things worse. 

"S-sorry." 

He fiddled with his pockets, trying to produce the laminated card, he practically depended on. His fingers brushed the plastic, and he frantically pulled it out, sliding it to the other side of the table.

Please understand. 

Please, please, please. 

You had been the only person he'd connected with in months, perhaps longer. And now, he was about to ruin it with his stupid, stupid, stupid condition. 

Guess the mystery had unravelled, he thought bitterly. 

He tried to watch your expression for any indication of disgust or contempt. It was difficult, however, as he continued his fit, a hand hitting the table's surface. Another reflex. The pain was starting to set in, his lungs screaming, and his chest aching. 

Please just let it end. 

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Your voice surprised him, the kind tone and the understanding in your eyes was something he had to get used to. Something he wanted to get used to. How were you so kind? So accepting?

He shook his head slowly, trying to get a few words out.

"I have-"

"Have to-"

He tried to breathe, nearly choking.

"W-Wait."

"It's okay," you comforted, hurt no longer manipulating your features. 

"Take your time."

———

In Arthur's eyes, the date had gone really well, or at the very least as well as it could have gone considering his outburst. He was happy, the feeling of warmth and nervousness he felt around you was something he hadn't really experienced with anyone, or really had the chance to. He kind of liked it.

He felt like he could be himself. You'd laugh at his jokes, his puns, regardless of how morbid they got; the most you'd do is playfully slap his shoulder and bite back a grin - guilty for laughing. He never understood the frivolous sayings about love, how things could sound so far fetched and dramatic, but now, he understood. 

He didn't know how it was possible, how someone as beautiful as you, could be interested in someone like him. 

After eating, you both walked under the darkness of the sky, the pinpricks which twinkled above, smiling down. Content was the air that surrounded your bodies, a loving blanket. With nothing more than a few minutes walk back to yours from the restaurant, you relished in his company. 

It wasn't long before you both arrived back though, almost too soon, with the giddiness of your date still swirling around in both your heads. Arthur, at some point, had wrapped his red suit jacket around your goosebumped form, an action at which you had initially declined, but gave in when he insisted. You thought it felt good against your warming skin, the smell of his cologne intoxicating. As you entered the hallway, leading him back to the living room, you were happy to see the babysitter you had hired playing a board game with your beaming son. She was the teenage daughter of a friend you met at work, and you, happy to help out a struggling youth, decided it was the perfect opportunity to go out with Arthur. After paying her, and seeing her off, you excused yourself for a moment and vanished into one of the other rooms.  

Arthur had sat down on the table like last time. The wood cooled his clothed forearms as he watched the child from across the room walk his way over, and push himself into the chair opposite him. Once (c/n), was comfortable, Arthur shot him a smile - one that wasn't returned. 

(C/n)'s bright eyes were suddenly reduced to slits, his arms crossed and observing the dressed-up man. It made Arthur uncomfortable, to say the least. What had caused the dramatic shift in attitude? 

Nothing was said, for at least a good two minutes, until finally, the small child in his blue space pyjamas saw it necessary.

"You know, my mommy really likes you." 

Uh oh.

Arthur made a face back to the boy. 

He wasn't entirely sure what face he made, though it didn't matter because the child picked up on his general disbelief anyway.

"It's true!" His arms shot out into the air, "I do too!" 

There was no way a child could know such things; plus, nothing was ever certain. It was with this that he pushed down the hope that had sprung up, like a freshly bloomed flower in spring - its stem resistant and youthful, not yet pressed by the wilting life would inevitably bring. 

"So you better not be mean to her!" (C/n) exclaimed.

The double meaning behind what the child said made him internally cringe. Arthur now knew the context of your troubled pasts and whilst what (c/n) had said was innocent, had saddened him. Not just over the fact you had been through hell in the first place, but because, for a moment there, Arthur saw himself in the child; a reflection of what he was still like. Always having to take care of his mother - look out for her. Support her any way he could.  

Arthur's eyes softened in understanding, a great respect for the child forming. (C/n) sincerely looked up to you - loved you, and he was willing to resist anything that endangered that. 

Arthur leaned forward, a forearm extending. His elbow rested against the table's surface and all his fingers, except for one - his pinky - curled into his palm. 

"I promise," he said, eyes firm, a certainty the child was happy with.

(C/n) reached his small body over, his knees digging into the pads of cushioning on the chair as his significantly tinier finger wrapped around Arthur's skinny one. A smile was shared between the two of them. 

When Arthur went to pull away, he was stopped by (C/n)'s whine.

"No! You have to lock it!"

"Lock?" Arthur questioned. 

(C/n)'s tongue stuck out in concentration as he reached his small thumb over to Arthur's, tapping it. After much trial and error, the older man finally got the hint and connected the tip of his thumb with the boy.

"There!" (C/n) exclaimed.

Unbeknownst to the two seated at the table, you had snuck back into the room, watching the heartwarming scene unfold. The gentle noise of your knocking signified your return, and Arthur, with surprise, jumped in his chair, quickly standing. You bit into your lip, trying not to laugh. 

He made his way over to you when you extended your arm, his red suit jacket floating in the air as your fingers gripped it from the top. In one quick movement, it was hugging his body again.

"Thanks," Arthur smiled.

As much as he wanted to stay, to talk to you all night, his eyes caught the time which had apparently flown by, like a flock of birds migrating for the winter. He had undoubtedly overstayed his welcome, and his mother was probably worried sick. 

His eyes grew wide.

"I-I have to go!" 

His sudden shift in mood had you worried. 

"Arthur? Are you okay?" 

"I'm really late. I'm sorry." 

"Oh - okay well, let me walk you to the door?"

It was barely a few meters away, and you internally scolded yourself. How obvious could you get?

He quickly nodded.

Your form quickly moved past him as you hear Arthur's gentle voice in the background say goodbye to (C/n). When your fingers gripped onto the doorknob, pushing it, Arthur squeezed past with a small 'thank you'. You felt the nips of the wind against your exposed arms, causing you to shiver. The distant noises of Gotham - the blaring sirens which were muffled, and the faraway clamour of car horns, was something you had gotten used to; it was a city that never slept. 

Arthur stood awkwardly in front of you, lost. It was then when you realised you had to make the first move. 

"Thanks for tonight," you said, hands wrapping around him in a gentle embrace, chin resting on the pad of his shoulder. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils instantly. It was oceanic, traces of bergamot and melon, with a hint of frangipani; so perfectly him. It was a fragrance that you associated with safety, the small feeling of comfort burrowing in your stomach. 

He froze from your actions, evidently stunned. His arms then snaked their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

"I had a great time," you whispered, eyes closing against him.  

The husky agreement which you felt vibrate in his chest induced a sinful shiver. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped in his arms for longer, hell for the rest of the night, you knew he needed to be somewhere. Tearing yourself away, the hands remaining at your hips stopped you, squeezing into your sides. This prompted you to look up at the man, into his hardened eyes. They looked to be concentrating, portraying an internal war. His Adam's apple bobbed. You didn't get a chance to ask if he was okay because he moved before you could, his lips quickly pressing themselves against the softness of your heated cheek before scurrying off.

You smiled, fingers grazing the area. 

Arthur was a unique man. Strange, but endearingly so. 

So soft and gentle; kind. 

He would never hurt a fly. 

———

.

.

.

.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Arthur repeated the mantra in his head. 

He'd fucked up - fucked up big time.

He'd shot three men - killed them in cold blood. 

His ears were still ringing from the gunshots, and he remembered the way his hands shook as he held the trigger. How his tremors diminished with every squeeze until finally, a hardened look replaced his fear. His whole demeanour had altered within those critical seconds.

As he found himself back in the present, his makeup smudged and appearance dishevelled, he emerged out of the public bathroom, panting. 

He felt different. 

The eyes which had stared back at him in that mirror didn't feel like his own. They didn't harbour the terror they once swam in, nor the naivety. His body, which had moved with grace and finesse, had danced on the dirty tiles instead. His movements came from the soul; a conglomeration of motions he was unaware he was even capable of. 

Yes - he was different. 

So, when he wiped off his makeup, and kicked his leg out, against the resistance of the bathroom door, he didn't go back to his apartment. He didn't want to see the rats in the lobby, scurrying and squeaking, only a matter of time before they found their way into his apartment. He didn't want to stare at the wall for hours, envisioning what could have been, and the what if's. He didn't want to sit down with his journal and think about how depressing his life was - just to get his therapist off his ass.

No, he didn't want to. 

So he didn't.

Preferably, he found himself going in the other direction. To the place where he felt most welcomed. Loved. 

Although the date had been days prior, he felt the need to see you. 

He didn't know how long it took him to get there, all he knew was the thumping of his heart, it's frantic beat echoing in his ears when he rapped on the door. The sound hollow. 

Your head peaked out, groggy from sleep as you opened the door, its range widening when you saw him. It was late, perhaps late enough to be considered the early hours of the morning, but you didn't question it. Rather, his name passed your lips with concern. 

Arthur didn't hear you call his name. Though he saw your lips move, plump and inviting. No sound reached his dazed state. His hands found your face alternatively, thin digits sliding below your mastoid, save for his ring finger and pinky. Wasting no time in seizing your lips, his mind worked overtime to memorise every little detail - of the moment he had been waiting for; the grand finale. 

Every scent - like the perfume that seeped into your skin, faint and applied hours prior. It was a scent he often detected, sometimes rubbing off on his clothes, but an odour he never got sick of; heavenly. 

Every feeling - like the way your hands wrapped around his form, gripping him tightly to steady yourself from your stumbling - from his pushes into the house. Or, like the feeling of his stomach, how it fluttered when you kissed him back, his heated blood pumping through him. 

Every sound - like the soft 'click' of the door behind him, which he closed with the sole of his shoe. 

Every taste - like the raspberry chapstick which coated your lips, mixing in with the contrasting flavour of his carmine lipstick. Although most of it was wiped off, there were distinct traces. Smudges.  

Every sight - the way your playful grin took up most of it when you pulled away, teeth dragging your bottom lip, leading him to your bedroom. 

When inside, Arthur dipped you down onto the bed, his slim frame hovering over yours with darkened eyes. The dim glow of your lamp residing on the bedside table allowed you to identify the hunger in his look. A lusting fire which burned right before you, behind those glassy, blue eyes. The warmth of his lips met your mouth once more, but only for a second because he shifted his attention to the base of your neck. The moments in between had you complaining from the loss of contact, a noise which he chuckled at. 

He wanted - needed - to explore every curve of your body; every crevice. Map it in his brain. 

"Arthur," you whispered. He shivered at the sound of his name breathlessly leaving your lips, goosebumps forming across his skin. In response, he hummed deeply - an acknowledgement which originated from the back of his throat, the vibrations sinful against your heightened senses.

"What's gotten into you?" 

The confidence radiating off of him, although adding to the pool in your panties, had surprised you. You had to remind yourself that the previously timid Arthur and the man above you were the same person.

"I need you," he husked. 

Amazed by his forwardness, though equally as desperate, your voice came out shaky, "then take me." 

Three words. Those lovely three words were all it took for him to lose himself; his control. The tightness of his pants was becoming too much to bear. It was his own personal prison, and the anguished motivation to escape was only increasing by the passing moments. Judging by the way you were grinding against him, pressing against his crotch unfairly, he knew you were just as riled up.

His kisses seared into your skin, rendering you a whimpering mess. Your back arched against the mattress, an action driven entirely by instinct as his hands slipped under your shirt. In an attempt to make things easier, your hands hooked under the shirt as well, bunching it up. When he sensed the movement, he assisted you with the material. In your whirlwind of passion, the article of clothing had been removed, thrown away as it was left sprawled across the floor, uncaringly. His breath hitched in his throat when he realised there was nothing underneath it, except for your underwear.

"You're beautiful," he said, pupils full-blown.

Your eyes then smiled up at his in the delicate moment, the tender upturn of your brows leading to the capture of his lips. Without so much as moving away, his slender fingers fiddled with his dress shirt, he too, removing himself from its constraints. 

He suddenly pulled away as his frustration reached its peak. His need for you had become overpowering, and he worked his way down towards the only piece of clothing you had left. The light, tickling touch of the pads of his fingers slid down your ribcage, tracing down your hips until they reached the waistband. His thumbs dipped under the elastic, and with the cooperation of your wiggling, it was promptly discarded. His caress was ever so gentle, his handling virtually leaving you quaking beneath him. 

Arthur wasted no time in pleasuring you, this was proven to you quickly when one of his digits smoothly slid into your cunt. The sound of your wetness was vulgar, although all the more alluring. 

He felt drunk; hazy. In some sense, it was surreal that this was occurring, that you were actually interested in him in the first place. Yet, there was another part of him that was screaming at himself to focus, to halt his berating comments and take pleasure in the way you were crumbling before him. He tried to do the latter.  

"Fuck- oh my god!" You immediately cried out, hands darting to cover your mouth as he slowly started pumping his finger. His devilish movements had your other hand fisting the sheets. 

Your breathing swiftly became ragged under the knuckle you bit down on, and he hastily added another finger, loving your reaction. He felt his chest swell with pride as he glanced up at your dishevelled manner. Encouraged by the enchanting sight, he picked up his pace. It was relentless and brutal, the thrusts forcing obscene mewls from you, some no longer containable. Raising your hips to meet his rhythm, to relieve the overwhelming knot forming, you knew you weren't going to last long. Arthur knew this too, your squirming made this clear, and he instantly added his lips to the equation, stimulating your clit. 

You were done for. 

As your walls clenched around his fingers, your hands rushed to grip his hair. They weaved through his untidy strands, pushing his head down while the wild flicks of his tongue assisted you with your earth-shattering orgasm. Ecstasy rushed over your trembling form, and as your thighs tensed, the tip of your head grazed the headboard; you swore you could see stars. Arthur's cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you unfolding before him, impossibly hard. 

"Holy fuck!" You moaned.

He kindly slowed his rhythm when he knew you finished, yet his tongue licked a long stripe against your slit, moving to lap up your juices. The sensation, as well as the hums that lasciviously left his mouth, vibrated against your already sensitive core, setting you down the path for a second climax.  

Perhaps he had done it on purpose, but when you felt the pressure in your abdomen, ready to burst again, he pulled away. 

"No!" you cried, "Arthur, please! I'm gonna cum, please let me cum!" You sobbed quite shamelessly. In all honesty, your words surprised yourself, and apparently Arthur too, because laid sat there for a moment, eyebrows raised as a delicious smirk settled over his lips. He took his merry time, with no sign of returning to you, savouring your pleading.  

"Beg," he purred, sitting up as his tongue lolling out to lick and suck on the fingers that had fucked you into oblivion. His eyes never shifted from yours, and you watched with absolute astonishment, upon desire, at the action. Your reaction only egged him on. 

What exactly happened to him in the last 72 hours? 

You were genuinely bewildered at the whole situation. The last thing you would have expected was to have Arthur rock up in the middle of the night and turn into a sex god. Though, you certainly weren't complaining. 

While one of his hands was busy, in his mouth, his other trailed up your thigh. Eventually, it reached your bundle of nerves, tracing small circles with his thumb, agonisingly slowly. 

"You're so good to me, fuck," you whined, stirring against his touch. He pulled away again when you bucked into his hand.

"Please-"

"Please, what?"

"I need you inside me, Arthur, fuck please-"

He couldn't take much more of your begging, his own self-control had wholly vanished by then, and he quickly shifted out of his pants, freeing himself. When his cock fell into his fist, he gave two steady pumps before lining himself up with you. You held your breath in anticipation despite your wild heart, making you feel dizzy. The relief you had been longing for - no aching for - had finally arrived when he pushed himself into you. 

"Oh god- you feel so good," you gasped. The moan which fell from Arthur's lips had your name mixed in, a deliciously carnal sound. As he started moving, a slow rhythm from his hips developing, he shut his eyes. With his concentration on chasing his finish, salty beads of sweat trailed down his forehead. 

"Arthur," your gentle voice had called, "w-wait." 

Upon hearing your words, he immediately stopped, eyes flying open with concern.

"Let me take care of you."

He was confused as to what you meant until you maneuvered yourself on top, kissing him softly.  

You could see the stutter in his confidence at your words, though his nod signified his consent. With a small smile, you made sure he was comfortable before your entrance started teasing his cock. You felt him tense up, and when you made the movement again, he thrust into you, an involuntary action which made you both cry out. His stroke hit you perfectly the first time, harsh yet euphoric. If you woke up the next day and found your body aching, you wouldn't be shocked.

His arms reached over to embrace your form as you buried your face in the crevice of his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Then, fully adjusted to his length, you started to move up and down on his cock, the feeling of him stretching your walls overwhelming. 

"You're doing so well," you gulped, your panting warming the side of his throat.

"I want to see you," he managed to murmur out, and his request was promptly granted when you pulled away from his neck.  

His hands slid down to grip your hips when you shifted, guiding them as you bounced. No longer did he need to fantasise about being with you, image you writhing in pleasure as he touched himself. No longer did he need to envision the way you felt around his cock, the way you moaned; it was now his reality. Hell, even Arthur's wicked fantasies couldn't have prepared him for this. Nor the words that left your mouth next, sending him spiralling. 

"Let go, Arthur. Cum for me."  

He did.

And hard. 

His orgasm rocked him to the core, and you milked him for all he had, his hot spurts of cum coating your walls. Both your paces slowed, becoming sloppy as you came crashing down seconds later. 

Deathly tired, you collapsed on top of his chest, exhausted. The only sound that could be heard were your frantic breaths, and you could've sworn your heart too, considering how hard it was beating. As you both took a minute to calm, neither of you move from each other, his cock still buried within you. 

Only when you felt him soften did you slowly depart, rolling beside him. Arthur's grew heavy when you did, though they tried to resist the weight of his lethargy. He managed to twist his frame over to you, giving you one last kiss, the taste of yourself prominent in the heartfelt and passionate kiss, before he finally gave in. 

Sleep gripped your forms. 

———

Arthur stirred at the alien sensation of warmth next to him. Your naked body was pressed against his, head leaning on his chest as his arms protectively enveloped your frame. It took a few moments for this to register, and a lot more minutes for him to realise this was real; that this wasn't a dream - a product of his imagination.

He hadn't woken up in his own bed with his sheets dirtied from, well, his...dreams. 

Everything had actually happened yesterday. 

Your beautiful form was really there in his grasp, face relaxed with soft exhales leaving your nose. He could feel the breath against his skin, a perception his body reacted to on its own.

Don't start, he thought, scolding himself. 

Perhaps it was his staring that had woken you next, or the soft, dulled yellow tone of the suns rays projecting past the white curtains. He wasn't sure. But, when your (e/c) eyes bore into his, fluttering open with a grin he knew he'd never get used to, he realised it didn't matter. Its appearance always managed to sucker punch him in his gut, make his heart stop. And if that was the way he was going to die, fuck, he really couldn't complain. He'd choose it if he could. Your radiance was sincerely otherworldly to him, angelic - personally constructed and moulded by the angels themselves.  

"Goodmorning," you yawned, arching your back into a stretch. Soft groans left your lips and pops from your joints filled the air. Arthur's finger trailed your spine, forcing you to shiver.

"Morning," he replied lazily, a drowsy smile gracing his lips.

"I don't wanna get upppp" you whined, voice still affected by sleep as you nuzzled into him. 

"We don't have to," Arthur shot you a look, one you were quickly starting to identify as his sex expression. Its appearance forced you to roll your eyes playfully, something he laughed at. 

"Maybe later, loverboy."

After one soft morning kiss, you both decided it was best to do the complete opposite of what you wanted and get up. 

As you both tossed on the discarded clothes from your nightly activities, Arthur beat you to the kitchen, refusing to let you sort your breakfast out. Your giggles decorated the hallway as you admitted defeat, knowing he wasn't going to give in. In no time, Arthur had somehow transformed into a chef, something he casually brushed off, stating he learned for his mother. 

Not long after, a long metallic groan - of hinges - sounded. Then, frantic footsteps littered the hallway, a short form entering the kitchen soon after, eyes observing the scene before them.

"Are those pancakes?" The boy asked, looking between you and Arthur. 

Arthur winked at (C/n). It was enough confirmation for the kid and his feet lept off the ground repeatedly. His cute red pyjamas had green patterns of t-rex's scattered across the fabric, a fact he exhibited to Arthur every few minutes. 

So, this was what having a family felt like, Arthur thought, smiling. 

When Arthur eventually finished cooking and experimenting with pancake shapes (he had managed to morph yours into the outline of a heart and (C/n)'s into Pacman), he was the last to join the table. 

Excited to take a chuck out of his consumable masterpiece, Arthur sipped on his water. But, before he could move on, the boy's words across from him, stopped him, forcing the liquid back into its glass. 

Arthur damn near choked. Deep coughs emerged from his chest, and while he was repulsed by the sight of his saliva swirling with the chilled drink, it was the least of his worries with the child's words buzzing around his head. 

"Does this mean you're my dad now?!"

———

Side note: I was genuinely considering putting the summary as ‘Arthur shoots people and gets laid lol’ because I couldn’t think of anything. I need help PFTT

[olliethealright]

Three Steps From Home: Update 4

Hey everyone! Long time, no see! Basically, I’ve been unmotivated for the past month or so, and as a result I’ve barely touched my socials. Good news, I’ve written the next eleven or so chapters of my WIP, and it’s almost doubled in word count lol. I don’t want to do a full sized update on every chapter because that would take a stupidly long amount of time, so I’m just gonna summarize and then give a little excerpt (this ended up being chapters 11-16) Not every quote has a picture because I am a tad lazy lol. Enjoy! 

Trigger Warnings: Emotional abuse, toxic relationships, homophobia, self harm, suicide, mental health, drug use, religious content

Disclaimer: Please don’t steal my words, ideas, characters, etc.

chapter eleven - problem child - 2118 words

theme song - if i get high - nothing but thieves

summary: Jude and Aaron have one last dinner with Jude’s mother before moving to Seattle. Shit goes down, Jude’s father is addressed, Jude’s mom has an anti-religious experience, everyone is upset. 

except - Jude thinking about his family before his dad left

I was two months from finishing my Junior year as a top student, six from applying to every out of state school I could think of, fourteen from leaving everything and never coming back. From the outside, the Alvarez-Carter family was a model of the American dream; we took family photos everywhere we went and cooked each other dinners on alternating days of the week. We  attended every house party, where my mother exchanged gossip like trading cards and my dad sipped Bud Light from a bottle and played cornhole. At those same parties, I flirted shamelessly with every girl in the vicinity, then cited my religion as the reason I wouldn’t do more than exchange pretty words.

The night dad left wasn’t the first time my parents fought in front of me, but it was the night they shattered the already paper thin barrier they had held between me and their issues. I never knew who started it, never knew who threw the first punch, but I knew who delivered the killing blow.

chapter twelve - golden days - 854 words

theme song - ribs - lorde,  also chelsea - phoebe bridgers 

summary: Aaron and Jude move into their new apartment, very light airy vibes, Jude idealizing everything, Aaron and Jude being adorable (yeah can you tell nothing actually happens in this one lmao). 

excerpt - Aaron and Jude leaving Montana

A taxi dropped us off at the Amtrak station the next morning. Our breath rose in front of us on the platform, I tiled my head back and tasted the sunlight; sweet and overflowing with new beginnings. Maybe, I’d be lucky enough to catch one for both of us. 

chapter thirteen - unholy creation - 900 words

theme song - reflections - the neighborhood

summary: Aaron’s mental health takes a turn, Jude is worried but has no idea what to do, Jude and Aaron fight for no good reason

excerpt - a description of Aaron falling off several wagons 

You were a shell of fragile bones and sharp edges when I wrapped an arm around you during a scary movie or curled against your chest late at night. You started wearing a flannel or a sweatshirt over every outfit, an extra layer to hide your ribs and hip bones and elbows, so sharp they could cut through glass. I stopped holding you so tight, afraid of the snap of calcium or cartilage or spirit.

okay one more because I like this chapter haha - Aaron getting mad when Jude asks about his parents

“It’s not about them, alright? I’m not going to talk about them because they’re not part of my life, they don’t control anything. Stop asking about them because they don’t matter, and I wouldn’t tell you if they did.”

You said the words like a chant, a litany, like you were the one who needed convincing. I pictured my mother in her dark dining room, palms up to God, praying for a miracle. You looked like her then, all the fear and anger coming out in one jumble of meaningless words. I flinched away when I should have stood my ground.

chapter fourteen - (has a title but I hate it) - 674 words

theme song - fear of falling asleep - TENDER  

summary - Jude has a mental breakdown, Aaron buys him sleeping pills and then takes them himself, they (kind of) fight, everything is toxic

excerpt - Jude watching Aaron sleep (it’s a weird chapter)

You took my meds that night, I cheeked them until you turned your back, then spit them into the dishwater and washed them down with green suds and scraps of tofu and rice. An hour later, you were passed out in our bed, skeletal limbs stretching out like the fragile branches of a birch tree. I watched as your chest rose and fell, dappled in moonlight and the neon buzz of constant electricity. For a few moments at a time, I convinced myself that your steady rhythm of in-and-out had stopped, I watched as you left this world and then came back. I couldn’t tell how much time was in between.

chapter fifteen - forest, electric (aka my favorite chapter in the book?) - 1279 words

theme song - are you bored yet - wallows 

summary - in an attempt to renew their relationship, Aaron takes Jude on a hike to a construction site in the middle of the night. The two sit on the roof and watch the sunrise. 

excerpt - starting the adventure

We walked four blocks south to meet our Uber, then set off down the winding streets of the city. It was one in the morning and if I looked close enough, I could convince myself I had woken up in a ghost town. Or maybe I was stuck in dreamland, where my boyfriend was perfect and everything I saw was real and I didn’t have to negotiate with myself when I needed an hour or two of rest.

excerpt - the end of the chapter that I just really like

We didn’t talk about our problems that night; we pretended I wasn’t sick and you weren’t hooked. That night, my mother didn’t hate you, we visited your parents once a year during glamorous Scottish vacations, we weren’t runaways. We dangled our feet over the edge of the roof, neither of us thought about jumping, about how our stomachs would drop faster than our bodies, about the inevitable crush of bones and life that awaited at the bottom.

That night, we leaned into each other and locked our hands and whispered ‘I love yous’ until a band of pink and orange lit the horizon and we realized we would get caught if we stayed much longer. We walked the two miles home and fell asleep curled in each other’s arms an hour before your 7:00AM alarm, two before you would leave the apartment again, eight before you would return home just before your high wore off.

I knew all these realities to be true at once, so I breathed in cologne and coffee grounds, took a picture in my head so that image of you, asleep and unaddicted and bathed in the sunrise, would stay with me forever.

chapter sixteen - gods and monsters - 1378 words

theme song - freakin out on the interstate - briston maroney 

summary - Aaron and Jude’s friends come over for the Fourth of July, Aaron comes home drunk and makes his friends leave, Jude’s friend tells Jude to break up with Aaron, Jude refuses 

excerpt - Jude convincing himself that everything is fine when it is clearly not fine (aka the theme of the book and also should probably be the title)

You were sallow and gaunt, your hair was greasy, your breath smelled of vomit and alcohol and whatever else you had taken. You were a monster in our bed, but I could feel that lazy half smile against my skin. I could close my eyes and see you sitting in that tea shop, long limbs sprawled over the pillows, the sun on your skin making you glow like a god.

That image of you couldn’t lie, not when I had lived that moment, not when it had been so beautiful. I wouldn’t leave you because you would be alright and this would pass. You convinced me everything would look better in the morning, all our problems would fade with the rising sun.

You were wrong. They didn’t.

Okay, this is getting way too long so I’m gonna end it here! Thank you so much if you actually read all that! If you want more information on any chapter, just message me and I will do that. The update on the last few chapters of the first draft should be out somewhat soon, and I may or may not have a new WIP coming up :)

ALSO, it has come to my attention that most people have these things called taglists? And I don’t have one? If you wanna be on mine for this project, or any future projects, message me or repost this and I will make one. Thank you for reading!

-Ollie

[shreddedparchment]

Shattered Glass Epilogue

07/15/2019

Pairing: Tony x Reader, Steve x Reader     Word Count: 5,638

Masterpost  Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, language, angst, water balloons

A/N: Guys...did you really think that I could just leave the story like that?! lol I had to stop writing because it was 4am when I finished both chapter two and three but there was always going to be an epilogue and one of you guessed what it was kinda going to turn into! Maybe I’m becoming predictable? Either way, I hope you enjoy this final piece of this angsty puzzle. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

You’d always assumed your little slice of heaven would look a certain way.

After losing your parents, all you’d ever wanted was to feel warm and safe. Protected as you had when you were a girl.

For a while that slice of heaven had included Tony. He’d made you feel safe and though he hadn’t meant to make you feel loved too, he had.

It had slipped out in small, tender moments even before you two collided and imploded.

When he'd found you struggling with your ability in a vacant parking lot, drunk off your ass and lifting cars.

He’d shown up like a hero, clad in hot rod red and gold, falling from the sky like some metallic angel.

He caught the third car you'd been about to pile up onto the roof of the bank next door, dropped it, then blasted you with a sonic pulsar boom that sent you flying onto your ass.

You'd groaned and scraped your knee, turning to climb back to your feet where you teetered and then fell back again.

Tony had moved towards you, stepped out of his armor, and then squat down beside you.

He’d pushed back the curtain of hair on your face then sighed when he saw your hazy drunk eyes.

“What are you doing out here, kid?” He'd asked and his voice had been sultry and deep. Comforting.

Like a baby duck you imprinted on him, fell hard in that moment as you stared up into his gorgeously tanned face. His dark eyes peered straight through you, seeing you as the mess you were instead of the menace he’d probably been sent to dispatch.

“Tony Stark?” You'd whimpered at him.

“Come on. Get up. I know just what to do with you.” Just like that he’d plucked you from nothing and given you purpose.

You were part of the team. Untrained. Unfocused. A hazard really. Everyone knew it.

Nat, Wanda, and Vision had attempted to reign your frenetic energy in but they could only help so much.

And your heart; egged on by stolen smiles with Tony on one-on-one lessons on his tech and lingering grazes, skin to skin. Swift deliberate caresses to the back if your head, a stroke of your shoulder. Always accompanied by an array of warm flutters.

The imprint left by Tony Stark was impossible to ignore and it had consumed you.

It ate you up and digested you before spitting you back up in a heap.

If there’s one thing you know now, it’s that Tony Stark never loved you. Not the way you wanted.

You'd been an obsession for him as much as he’d been to you. A broken toy to fix…or break beyond repair which is what it had nearly felt like.

So, you left.

Here in your little house, you tidy your small breakfast table and gather your dishes to wash.

The day is young and the sun streams in through your tall front windows filling the small space with warm golden glitter.

You love the warm swish of your maxi skirt, soft stretchy red cotton, as you settle in front of the sink and get to work.

This consists of you holding onto the edge of the sink. You focus, chewing on your lip as you use your ability to move the soapy brush across the dirty plates. The water running gently, rinsing and washing with only the strength of your mind.

It’s liberating, being gentle. Using your power for something so unlike the night you first received them.

Killing your parents, however inadvertently, still haunts you and you wake up at least once a night from nightmares that strangle you into choked sobs. You wish the memory would fade but it seems emblazoned into your mind and you’ve stopped fighting it.

It takes a lot of your energy to focus on doing menial tasks, but you know it’s necessary. If you want to control it. If you want to reign over what you see as your curse and appreciate it as a part of who you are, then maybe things will get easier.

You spend the morning cleaning, only to dirty a new plate and glass for lunch.

Being lazy from using your ability so much, you opt for the easy sandwich. Nothing fancy. Just enough to take the hunger with a large glass of lemonade.

You take your meal outside to sit in the wicker bench on the right end of your covered porch. Your other wicker seat, angled so that you can sit with your feet up, plate in your lap. With the larger dish of three more sandwiches waiting to be devoured, and your lemonade sitting on the small outdoor table to your right.

As you eat, you shut your eyes and enjoy the sun while it can still reach you here in your sheltered retreat. You observe the small country house you found, investing most of your money earned while still working with the Avengers into purchasing it and the property it sits on. Nestled out of the way, a mile outside of the nearest town so that no one will bother you and you don’t accidentally go scaring any civilians with your powers.

The pink floral print of your cushions makes you happy. You feel the seat beside you, smiling as you chew.

These are the things you look for now. The small bits in your life that can make you smile. If the incident with Tony has taught you anything, it’s that things will always come along to make you happy and other things will always come along to make you sad.

Nothing in life is easy and you’re going to be stressed or worried or angry or sad more often than you are happy, but those happy moments are yours to relish. You know now that you need to make the most of them and let the rest fall away.

Breaking down like you did…that can’t happen again.

Sitting with your eyes shut, you feel the storm before you see it. You smell it before it comes.

The gentle warm breeze that rustles the viridian oaks and cypress that nestle your home in a protective cocoon suddenly gusts, turning gold and chilling. Like the air straight from an AC vent. You open your eyes, take in the suddenly darkening sky—the sun suddenly swallowed by large majestic puffs of fluffy black cloud—and hurry to your feet to clean up before the rain can come.

You head inside, bare feet plopping gently against the weatherproofed wood of your porch and then the shining chocolate brown of your living room. You grab your breakfast tray, clutching it close as you walk and move back out onto the porch.

You nearly scream when you notice someone suddenly standing at the foot of your stairs, but the storm blue hue of his eyes takes your breath away before you can utter a single cry.

He looks too good. Too good to be here, darkening your doorway…or lighting it up, if you’re honest.

With his blonde hair combed back, a blue button-up hugging the not so subtle curves of his biceps, shoulders, and pecs…you’d forgotten how pretty he is. How heartbreakingly beautiful.

You’d been sure that this had passed, this urge to see him, this yearning for those late-night cuddles where he’d chased those pesky nightmares away and kissed you until you couldn’t remember your own name.

Now that you see him, your chest tells you no. You’re not over it. Not over him.

“Hi.” He says, his deep voice making your heart ache so much that you reach up to rub the spot on your white t-shirt over your heart.

“Hi.” You reply, unable to think of anything else to say.

You’re so utterly flabbergasted by his sudden presence, after months of no contact, that your mind stupidly sings the chorus to Dolly Parton’s song, Here You Come Again.

Here you come again,

Looking better than a body has a right to,

And shaking me up so,

That all I really know,

Is here you come again,

And here I go.

No. You don’t need boys. They’re nothing but trouble.

You move for the seat you’d occupied, pushing yourself to ignore him as best you can. You’ll get what he wants out of him and then send him on his way.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” You nearly gasp, finding just enough strength to demand the answer from him somewhat sternly.

Around your house the storm builds, the wind whipping the trees back and forth as the smell of wet earth reaches your nose.

“I…I’ve been looking for you. After you left the way you did, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He admits, and you cringe where he can’t see, placing the tray down to pile on the plates and glass with your back to him.

You pick it back up, balancing it just above your waist as you turn back to look at him.

“Well, I’m okay. As you can see. So…you can go now.” You move past him as he climbs up your stairs, but he doesn’t follow you inside, letting your screen door shut behind you as he lingers just on the other side.

“I-” He stops, you can hear the hesitation in his voice but as you put your tray down, you don’t dare turn to face him.

“Y/N…about what happened the night you left,” He begins.

“It was a mistake?” You ask him, probing despite your better judgement.

Your mind plays those final hours on the compound over again, remembering every sensation, every touch.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve shuts the door, kicking it closed as he hoists you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

You know it’s wrong. You know that it’s just your sorrow, your grief. You just lost Tony and you’re leaving. You’re abandoning this life to seek out another, abandoning Steve who was only trying to give you some comfort.

A quick hug before you leave but things sparked, and the flame grew too big as his touch lured you in.

He’d kissed your cheek, too close to your mouth and the way his hands felt on your hips, squeezing and pulling in familiar ways.

He’d pulled back to look into your eyes, searching, hoping…then leaned down to kiss you softly. Then harder, hungry but so tenderly that your heart nearly heals itself from his affection.

He’d pulled back again, moaning as you did, and he’d pulled you into his room.

Now, as he tumbles with you towards his bed, you forget that you’re leaving. You forget that Tony just ripped your heart out because Steve is here, and he means more to you than even you’d known. More than you want to admit.

He collapses with you, pushing you up until he has you pinned at the center of his bed. He kisses you as he pulls each piece of your clothes off. Shirt, pants, bra, panties, each article followed with sweet, aching, searing buttery kisses.

Then he’s naked too and he’s inside you, filling you up in ways that only he can.

You don’t compare him to Tony in the moment, but you think about the way Steve makes you feel more cherished, special, almost holy in his worship. He holds you close, not tight, but softly like he’s trying to show you how much he loves you there but also not break you. Skin sliding slick with yours as he pulls you up and lays back to watch you rise and fall on top of him.

You press your hands, so small against his muscles, to his chest and rock your hips against his cock, breathless moans tearing through your throat as you half cry, half whimper.

His hands trace your hips, your sides, he cups your breasts and then moves them down along your stomach until he can help coax your climax faster, rubbing your nub in slow tantalizing circles.

You come undone above him, shaking and trembling then falling against his chest where he holds you and pumps himself into you in four quick thrusts before he releases himself into you, groaning with his climax.

He caresses the back of your head, running one hand along the length of your back and the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion. Emotional. Physical. Mental.

You’re both so tired.

When you wake up, you get dressed, give him one last lingering look, and escape from this life. You escape from the pain of it because while your heart had beat with Steve’s tonight…Tony is still waging his war inside of you. Tearing you apart with his love that can go nowhere. A love that you need to learn to give up before you can have even the slightest chance of moving on.

So, you leave him there in his bed, arms empty, with the love he wants to give you that you don’t deserve.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No.” He nearly growls. “No, it wasn’t.”

You relax a little, sighing.

“Steve, why are you here?” You’d been doing so well but it would be a lie to say that you hadn’t missed him.

Before your jealousy and temper had begun to put a rift between you and the rest of the team, Sam, Wanda, Nat, Vision…all of you had gotten along well. Your love for Tony, your love for Steve. It had all ripped holes in you bringing out the worst parts of you.

Sam had been cruel in many ways but he’d also only had half of the story. Before all of the dramatics, you and Sam had actually been getting along. There was no friendship yet but had your bad sides not been so prevalent, you might have struck up a friendship with Sam. Wanda might have been given the chance to really get to know you, and maybe Nat might have also welcome you more warmly?

You miss the team too, but you don’t belong there, and you know you can’t go back.

“I missed you.” He admits, stealing your breath.

You stand up straight, hesitate…

Finally, you turn to face him and slowly make your way towards him as the sky outside rumbles.

He stares into your eyes, those storm blues drinking in your face as if he literally can’t get enough of seeing it. Is this really what he’s like? Is this Steve in love? You’ll find out shortly.

As you get closer, his eyes wander down, following the flow of your arm, down along your wrist and as you push the screen door open and step back out onto the porch, he takes two steps back as his eyes take in the bump that your tummy has become.

That bump pushes against the stretchy cotton of your skirt, white t-shirt tucked in, so it accentuates the bump a bit more.

Steve’s breathing heavily as the wind whips your skirt around your ankles. You rub your tummy, wary of his reaction and what it might possibly mean. He stares for so long, blinking and trying to piece together what it is he’s seeing.

“How long-?” He asks, stopping because he can’t finish the question for some reason.

“Five months.” You hear the rain start and it pours hard.

It rattles against your roof and then trickles down, falling onto the shoulder of Steve’s shirt.

You move towards him and reach for his forearm, pulling him under the porch fully so that he can avoid getting wet.

Your touch seems to awaken him. He shifts his hand instantly, grasping hold of your wrist and instead of letting you pull him too far under the porch, he pulls you towards him instead. He’s at least not getting wet anymore, but you’re so close to him you can smell the sweetwater of his aftershave, the soft scent of soap from his morning shower. The melon of his shampoo. He smells like Steve and it smells so good.

“Tony’s?” He asks, a clipped question because he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a complete sentence.

You feel the shock in the tremble of his fingers and the see it in the shiver of his eyes.

You shake your head, “I don’t know.”

Steve seems to deflate, mindless running his right hand down along your shoulder to your other wrist as his left continues to hold your right.

“I-I think it’s yours.” You confess, thinking back to those horrible days before you left. “Tony and I had a scare on that mission we went on. He…I took the morning after pill.”

You’ve never told anyone this at it embarrasses you because back then you’d have been happy to be pregnant with Tony’s baby.

For a fleeting moment, you’d been excited. Now you’re only terrified that it is his. That Tony will always be tied to you in that way…you don’t want that.

Steve sighs, it’s weighty. There’s something he’s not saying. “What?”

Steve shakes his head. “No…I don’t want to-”

“Tell me.” You insist, staring up not his beautiful face, now screwed up with that all too familiar disapproving frown.

“Pepper’s pregnant.” He tells you and it’s like you’re punched in the gut.

You shut your eyes, hating the pain that this news gives you. It confirms your suspicions. It had never been about Tony not wanting kids. He just didn’t want them with you.

“Are you sure?” Steve suddenly asks, pulling your wrists up to press them against his chest. “Is the baby mine?”

You blink, startled back into the present and away from those memories that you’ve worked hard to put behind you.

You get what he’s asking but despite your wish to give him an easy answer, the truth is never easy. It never has been for you.

“No.” You shake your head. “The truth is Tony and I started using condoms after what happened on the island and…it could have broken. I wasn’t on birth control so…I think it’s yours Steve.”

You want it to be Steve’s. Even before he’d shown up, it was your deepest wish. “I haven’t been on birth control since you and I broke up and you’re the only man that I’ve slept with without protection, but we can find out. We can test the baby and we can know for sure.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” He asks, suddenly dropping your hands to place his on either side of your belly. “I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

Your heart flutters and melts. Steve. Your inner voice croons.

“Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid? So blind? I’m literally the stupidest person on the planet for not seeing what I had before I gave it up and now…what if it is Tony’s baby?” You panic, voice rising in octave.

Steve reaches down to pull your chin up so that he can look at your worrying face.

“It’s my baby, Y/N.” He tells you, no question or doubt in his mind. “If you’ll let me be here…no matter what…it’s mine.”

And you want to kiss him. You’re relieved and you’re swooning from the sheer gallantry this man is showing you and you seriously hate yourself for doing what you did to him. But you don’t kiss him because what if he’s reacting to the baby? What if he’s doing it because you’re falling to pieces again?

You smile up at him, forcing your hands to push him back a bit but he doesn’t go far. He feels the baby kick in your stomach and he smiles wide, storm blue eyes sparkling as thunder rumbles overhead.

“Come inside. This storm isn’t going anywhere for a while.” It takes every bit of will power you have to turn away from him and move back into the house, but he follows close at your tail, his hand reaching out to stroke the small of your back.

At six months, your belly is rounding out nicely.

Steve hasn’t left since he showed up randomly that day at the cusp of spring.

With birds chirping in the trees and your backyard freshly cut, Steve lets the lawn mower power down as he reaches up to scratch an itchy spot on his forehead.

He’s not sweating but he looks misty. Hot. Gray t-shirt clinging to his torso, jeans sitting pretty on his nice ass.

You smirk as you watch him, waiting with the cold glass of lemonade dripping with condensation balanced at the center of your palm.

He turns to look towards the house and notices you watching, a smile tugging at his lips as he shields his eyes from the sun of the passing morning.

“Is that for me?” He calls to you and you nod before moving down the steps towards him.

“Woah, wait. I’ll come to you.” He fusses, bounding across the law towards you.

When he reaches you, you shake your head. “You know, I could catch myself if I fell. I don’t need a man to help me.”

“Wha-? I’m not a man.” He informs you, taking the glass from you and taking a long gulp. He gasps with delight at the cold sensation of the liquid trailing down his throat. “I’m Captain America. Look, you’re even flying my colors.”

He points at the flag on your back porch and you try not to laugh. “That came with the house.”

“Oh.” He pouts. “Well, you didn’t take it down.”

“Thank you for cutting my grass.” You watch him down the rest of his lemonade and resists the urge to lean in and take a nice long whiff of his sweat misted skin.

Your hormones are crazy right now and jumping Steve seems to be the only thing you can think about lately.

“Of course.” He smiles at you, holding his glass out for you.

“Let it go.” You tell him.

“What? Just drop it?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

He tilts his head, confused, but drops it as you ask, and it floats there in the air between the two of you.

You struggle to hold your concentration with Steve breathing heavily behind you, moving closer and blowing hot air on the back of your neck. His hands come around you from behind, pressing against your stomach to feel for the baby.

This is the only way that he touches you.

You know that he doesn’t know why you won’t pick up where the two of you left off. You know that he wants to, but he’s been respecting your wishes and he hasn’t tried to hug you or kiss you or sneak into your bedroom—no matter how much you wish he freaking would.

But with your baby, he has the perfect excuse to touch you and he takes it as often as he can.

Of course, that doesn’t help with your training and the glass falls, thunking against the ground but thankfully, not breaking.

You sigh, disappointed.

“Maybe you’re doing this all wrong?” He asks.

“How else am I supposed to do it?” You ask him, annoyed with his need to touch your tummy but also greedy for it.

You can hear the amusement he has for your annoyance and he turns you around slowly, releasing you completely once you’re facing him.

“When do you find it easy to control your power?” He wonders.

“When I’m pissed off.” You tell him pointedly. “But…I guess also when I don’t have to think about it too much? Like, when I was the dishes I-”

“I’ve seen you play your little game.” He’s talking of course about the way you try to make music with the brush and the clinking of the plates, forks, and spoons.

You didn’t know he’d been paying attention that closely.

“Well, I’ve noticed you trying to develop your gift and I had an idea. Really, you’ll be doing me a favor.” He tells you, wandering away towards a large basket you hadn’t noticed just by the steps of the porch.

He walks it over to the left side of your yard, puts it down, and then waves you over.

You move to him, hand on your lower back as you carefully avoid the uneven parts of your hard.

“I’ll read up on how to even the yard out.” He says, noticing your careful footing.

“I’m okay.” You insist, but you can see him making a mental note.

As you reach him, you peek into the basket and smile. “Water balloons?”

“It’s really hot.” He tells you. “And after cutting your yard, I could use a cooling off. Assuming you can catch me with those.”

“You want me to use my power to fling water balloons at you?” You ask, incredulous but smiling.

“You not up for it?” He teases and you bite your lower lip.

It takes no effort to get the nearest blue balloon to fly out of the basket.

Steve gasps and rushes off at a slow jog as the water sloshes inside the sheer rubber. You make it zoom after him, but he dodges it easily and laughs as you miss.

“Ooh, missed.” He brags.

You narrow your eye at him.

“Uh-oh.” He says, chuckling as you chuck balloon after balloon at him.

He’s too fast. Too good at dodging and you’ve gone through almost half the basket when he stops with his hands on his knees.

“Give it up, doll face, you’re just no match for my speed.”

Your heart flutters at his old nickname for you, but his taunt pushes you to think slightly outside of the box.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He says, a wide smile spreading over his pearly whites.

You look down at the basket and it takes slightly more effort, but you manage to make all the balloon float up to hover around him.

“Hey!” He complains. “That’s cheating.”

“Dodge this, Rogers.” You taunt and send all of the balloons flying at him at once.

He doesn’t stand a chance of course and doesn’t even try to move from his spot across from you. He’s pelted with balloon after balloon. A cacophony of bursting rubber and splashing water fills the better part of a minute and when he’s no longer being hit, Steve stands, soaked from head to toe.

He gasps and spits, dripping, that t-shirt clinging so very nicely to his form.

“That was not-” As he looks up at you, you send one final red balloon at his face where it bursts with a loud pop.

He spits the water, looking so stupid with his face all scrunched up against the impact that you can’t help but laugh.

“-fair.” He complains, wiping at his face.

He looks up at you, watching you as you struggle to find support while you laugh in loud streaming chuckles. You reach down to cup the bottom of your belly, really belting out the laugh as you replay the look on his face over and over.

“Think that’s funny?” He asks, and you nod.

You laugh until you’re gasping for air and Steve watches you, eyes dazzling in twinkles as he does. His smile slowly fades, and you straighten up, recovering from your fit of laughter because of the serious set of his jaw.

“Steve?” You check, worried that you might have taken this all too far and upset him. “I-Did I hurt you with that last one?”

Your worry seeps through and you rub your belly, taking a step towards him when he suddenly struts towards you with a purposeful gait.

“Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

But he sweeps you into his arms, hands holding the sides of your face as he ducks down and meets you in a crushing kiss.

Your knees nearly buckle as the sweep of his kiss steals your breath. Steve is always stealing your breath.

His lips move slow, hungrily, open mouthed kisses where his tongue slides between your lips to deep it. He moans against your lips, satisfied but nowhere near sated.

He’s dripping wet and your skin pimples as he presses his very wet torso against your chest and tummy but you can’t find it in you to mind as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to kiss him just as eagerly as he needs.

It’s minutes before he pulls back, pulling out of a lingering peck only to rest his forehead against yours.

“Choose me.” He begs, eyes shut. One hand wanders down to the side of your tummy and he caresses it lovingly.

“Yes.” You nod, staring up into his face, wishing you’d said yes to him when he first asked you to choose him. “Yes, Steve. I choose you.”

He smiles, so happy you can see the flush of pride on his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet yours, staring with the pure devotion, the choosing that you’ve been searching for too.

“I love you.” He whispers, and you cry but pull him into another kiss as you once again tell him with just your body how much you really love him.

Steve eventually has to go back to the team, and he promises to come back.

When he leaves the first time, the panicked insecure little girl in you worries and is absolutely sure that Steve won’t return.

He stays away for a week and when he comes back, you’re so relieved you cry.

He holds you close and kisses your tears away then kisses your belly.

You don’t wonder about Steve returning anymore after that first time, but a new wonder begins to sprout in your mind.

The bigger your stomach gets, the more often he comes back. For Steve, leaving the team so often is strange.

“Do the others wonder where you go?” You ask, nestled in against his side, naked bodies covered with your blanket.

Steve’s hands are always on your tummy, especially when he can touch it directly. Skin to skin.

“They’re curious. Let them wonder.” He says, nuzzling into your hair as he drifts off to sleep.

Your heart gives a tiny ache, a deep-seated worry cropping up to poison your heart. Is Steve hiding you again?

This worry follows you into your eighth month of pregnancy. It makes you grumpy and when Steve asks you what’s wrong, you blame your swollen ankles and your aching back.

He convinces you to go back to the compound to give birth to the baby.

He doesn’t trust the local hospital for a possible enhanced baby birth, and you suppose that after nearly nine months away, and with Tony and Pepper now officially married, it’s safe to go back.

You’re not happy as the two of you arrive. It’s late and you’re terrified of running into Tony and Pepper, but Steve assures you that they’re at their new house and don’t come up to the compound as often.

No one is up when you arrive and as soon as you step off of the elevator, F.R.I.D.A.Y. greets Steve with a message.

“Hello, Captain. Welcome back. You too, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” You grumble at her, the late-night arrival not helping with your suspicion that Steve might be trying to get you in here when one is around. Maybe he’ll sneak you out too?

“You okay, baby?” Steve asks, rubbing your aching lower back.

You don’t answer because F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts.

“Captain Rogers, Natasha would like you to bring her the London mission report. She said she forgot to include a few things and would hate for you to file them incomplete.”

Steve sighs. “Damn it, Nat. Quick detour, baby. Come on.”

You don’t want to go to Steve’s office! Your feet are hurting, your back is aching, you’re tired and irritated and you’re still nothing but Steve’s dirty little secret.

Then you reach Steve’s office and as he flicks on the light, your eyes wander over to his desk and find at least fifteen pictures frames, each one holding a picture of you.

Steve doesn’t stop at his desk but instead moves to the filing cabinet on the opposite wall and with his back to you, rifles through files upon files of mission reports.

You waddle over to his desk, reaching for the closest picture and try to remember when he took it. You’re sitting on your sofa, reading a book. There’s another of you cooking. Another of you washing dishes with them floating in front of you and the silliest look of concentration on your face.

There’s one of you and Steve together. That one you remember taking. And another where he’s got you wrapped in his arm as he kisses your cheek. It’s your face over and over again on his desk from all different angles doing various different things but the largest picture, sitting just beside his computer monitor so that a mere tilt of his head might bring you into view, is one of you standing on your porch, hands on your swollen belly. You’re staring down at your baby, a peaceful smile you don’t recognize on your face.

Strong arms wrap themselves around you as slow tears trickle along your cheeks. He’s had you on display here, in his office, for everyone to see this entire time?

“Everyone’s been so eager to see you in person. I told them it wasn’t the right time yet. I don’t want us to move back here when the baby’s born. I want to stay out in our little house. I like us there better.” He tells you, lips pressed loosely against your cheekbone. “Is that okay?”

You shift in his arms, elated because you aren’t his secret.

You’re just his.

“Yes.” You smile. “Hell, yeah it’s okay.”

Two days later, your baby girl is born, and she looks so much like Steve you think your heart will burst.

You and Steve name her Sarah.

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[andesite-slabs]

It’s Hard to Rescue Someone When You’re a Spoon

fic I wrote at 1 AM for @cloud-craft’s Hermaid au, which is very very good and if you don’t look into it die by my sword jk lol

Wels stifled a yawn as he lazily walked the aquarium grounds. The day was slowly winding down, and golden rays filtered their way through the roof-top windows. They would begin locking up within an hour or so, which Wels was looking forward to. Ever since Cleo had been brought by Joe to the aquarium, he hadn’t been getting his best night’s sleep. The security guard anxiously shifted on his feet at the thought. It had been a week since Joe brought an actual mermaid to the aquarium, and six days since he’d been told by Joe and Doc of her existence, but he was still shell-shocked. Apparently mermaids were real, and there were more of them just existing, secret and hidden, just below the waves. It felt like too big of a secret for a small group like them to handle, especially as he was responsible for keeping people out of the staff areas here. He once again pulled out his phone and opened the private app which connected to the security camera footage, swiping to the staff wing camera which showed the medbay door. Still locked. Wels let out a sigh and slipped the phone back into his pocket, returning to scanning the room. Nothing had changed, a few families walking abou- his eyes did a double take.

Standing by the adjacent wall was an almost unnervingly tall man with a dark mustache. He wore a white dress shirt and loafers without socks. Most unusual, though, was the large, heavy gray fur he wore (it’s summer!!???) enveloping his form like a cloud. His hair was wet, probably from sweat, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. Wels blinked, before bringing out his phone again and opening the staff group chat.

    WelsKnight: Hey, has anyone else see the guy in the huge fur coat?

    WelsKnight: I think he’s gonna use it to smuggle stolen gift-shop merchandise in it @Zedaph

    Welsknight: As there isn’t any other reason to wear a coat in this weather

    @joehills: I can say my eyes did spy this guy you’re talkin about

    @joehills: I asked if he was worried about heat stroke and he said he was fine

    Falsesymmetry: wait who? Ive got admission duty this afternoon and I didnt see anyone with a fur coat walk in

    Zedaph: i didnt see him either, does he look like there’s snow globes in his coat?

    Falsesymmetry: what does he look like

    Welsknight: The man with the fur coat and the mustache, you didn’t notice him?

Wels looked up from their screen to look back at where the man was standing, but he was gone. He paced over to the next room over, hoping to catch him walking away, but he had completely vanished. Worriedly, he opened up his camera app and flipped through the screens, looking for where the stranger was. It was probably just his nerves getting to him, that’s all. Nothing, nothing nothing.. wait.

The medbay door was ajar. He quickly reached for his key ring, only to find the cold metal was no longer at his hip.

    Falsesymmetry: nope didn’t see him

    Welsknight: Hey @everyone did anyone leave the medbay door open y/n?

    Falsesymmetry: no?

    @joehills: that isn’t right

    Docm77: n

    @joehills: no one should be in there right now

    Stressmonster: No, nobody is I believe?

    Iskall85: yeah were all preparing to close soon

    @joehills: Wels?

    WelsKnight: Can somebody meet me outside the medbay door stat?

    WelsKnight: My keys are missing.

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

Mumbo took a deep breath, and then another, and then another. He decided that maybe he could keep on taking deep breaths forever and then one day he would die without having to go inside the aquarium ever and everything would be fine. But he felt guilty, he knew that being the only one with a shift-form he was the only one who could safely check the aquarium and make sure Cleo wasn’t in there. She probably wasn’t, though everyone feared the worst. So he decided he should probably check it out. Nobody asked him too, but they were probably all thinking it, and it would be really bad if no one found her after a week of her being missing. So he found himself swimming towards the coast, and eventually behind the aquarium, breathing in and out. Stalling, probably wasting valuable time, judging by the setting sun. With one final breath, Mumbo shifted into his full otter form and crawled through the vent-space he’d found, ignoring his fast-beating heart.

The next few minutes went by very fast, and he felt like he was running on autopilot. He managed to get into the building through an indoor-outdoor pool which housed some sleeping turtles, and thankfully emerged into an empty room. He began sneaking around the building, hiding under ledges and between chair legs. He managed to snag a set of keys from a tired looking employee, how he managed he didn’t know. The adrenaline kept him moving, pushing the possibility of getting caught to the pack oh his mind. He hid behind a wall and, after looking for any cameras or people, shifted back into human form, pocketing the keys within his coat so they wouldn’t jingle. Walking back out, he saw the guard look up, and quickly diverted his eyes. He needed to get done here, fast. Mumbo turned a corner and began to speed-walk away from the room, following a sign which read “staff only.”

He listened and looked under each door, cautiously looking behind him to make sure the coast was clear. Most rooms were unlocked and empty, though a few with the lights shining through he made sure to avoid until he had no choice. Halfway down the hall, he turned to open the medbay door only to find it locked, which certainly seemed odd. Wouldn’t you need immediate access to this room in case of an emergency? Sighing, he reached for the keys in his pocket and quietly fit one into the lock, hearing it click to his surprise. Pausing a moment, he braced himself and turned the handle, cracking open one eye to peer into the room.

The room was large yet cramped, with a white-square floor and countertops with organised tools upon them. A few cabinets lined the walls, and several water-fill glass tanks resting on the floor, including one central large one which contained…

“...Cleo?”

Cleo stares back at him shocked, only her tentacles moving in the water. He noticed a long strip of gauze wrapped around her waist.

“Mumbo? What, how are you here? Why are you here, for goodness sake?” She whispered.

“Well you were gone for so long, and no one heard anything from you! We were all worried, and we’d already checked everywhere else you could be in the ocean, so I decided that I should maybe check here, just to be safe.”

“Ok, but Mumbo I-“

“So I managed to sneak in and I don’t know how but there was a guard and I stole his keys and I’m not sure if he noticed so I just ran in a direction.”

“Mumbo.” Cleo tried to interrupt.

 “And eventually I got to the staff area and I looked through the cracks underneath the doors and I wasn’t sure which ones were safe to go in or not. And at this point what I was doing was definitely against the rules so I began to panic more and I wasn’t sure if anyone would be coming but-

“Mumbo! Shut up, I-“

The cephalopod mer’s yell-whisper was cut off by the sound of the door to the medbay creak open.

Standing outside the doorway were Wels, Stress, and Joe, all looking in worriedly. Joe was the first to walk in, lightly pushing past the others towards a frazzled Cleo.

“Cleo, Wels saw that the door to the medbay was open, and we came as fast as we all could. Is everything alright?” He gave a glance around the room, scanning for any other person but saw the room to be empty of intruders.

Cleo pauses a moment, considering her choices. On one hand, she knew she had already broken a big rule, accidentally telling the aquarium staff about the existence of mermaids. Telling them the names of specific mermaids probably wasn’t great too, and she knew Mumbo at least had a chance of hiding this out if she lied.

On the other hand she’d had a really shit week, and this would probably be funny. Sorry Mumbo.

Cleo crosses her arms, leaning against the rim of her tank. “No, actually, everything is not alright. This room has been broken into.”

(Mumbo could feel the gears turning in his head, but not correctly, like an engine running on overdrive about to break.)

Wels stepped it. “Was it a man in a fur coat? What happened, did they see you?”

“Oh no,”’she sighed, pretending to faint. “It’s so much worse!” The mer pointed dramatically towards the floor, everyone following her finger to underneath Joe’s cluttered desk.

“Behold, the dastardly culprit!”

Stress walked over, kneeling to get a better view. The others craned their necks in anticipation.

“Oh?” Stress reached into the space, shuffling for a few moments before standing up and turning around. A cheerful smile spread across her face as she revealed a very still otter in her arms. “False alarm guys, one of the otters just managed to sneak in here somehow!” Cleo has to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

Wels sighed in relief, letting the tension leave his clenched fists. “Oh, well that is certainly better than what I was expecting. I wonder how it got out, though. And that doesn’t explain what happened to my keys. Did someone unlock the door?”

Joe looked at Cleo, who was struggling to hide her grin beneath her hand. It wasn’t hard to piece two and two together. “Is something else going on, Cleo?”

The octopus mer held off a moment, before letting her giggles come through and wiping a tear from her eye. “Oh my god, this is so evil. Mumbo I’m so, so sorry but the past week has been kind of garbage and this was too good to pass up.” She sighed the rest of her chuckles away, resting her arms on the tank rim. All eyes turned towards the otter in Stress’ arms, who after a moment quickly set it down on the nearby desk.

“I’m.. guessing this isn’t a normal otter, then?”

“No, he isn’t. Mumbo you didn’t let me tell you, this is important.” She looked at Mumbo, who seemed to think if he stood still enough everyone would forget about him. A serious look filled her face. “They..know about us.”

“...What?”

Joe took a step back. “There’s magical talking otters too. They exist and we’re officially in a Disney movie now. Honestly I’m not sure why I am surprised, this seems like the next logical step.”

“Does Doc know about this too?” Asked Wels.

Cleo shrugged. “Hope not, cause that’s not what this is. Kind of. This is silly, can you just show them Mumbo?” she pleaded.

The otter paused a moment, before reaching its paws towards its neck in a very human-like way. Suddenly a faint swirl of mist enveloped him, before whooshing away, revealing a tall man with a mustache, hands nervously holding the collar of a large fur coat. Wels pointed a finger. “It’s him, that’s the man I saw earlier!”

Mumbo slid off the table, plunging his hands deep into his pockets. “I.. I hate this.” He turned towards Cleo. “You told them about this, about all of us?” He grasped at his hair, eyes in worried panic. “How could you, Cleo? This is dangerous! This is horrible!”

“I was on tons of drugs! I didn’t know what I was saying or where I was!”

“You drugged her?!”

“She has a giant hole in her stomach, that's what you’re supposed to do!” Joe gestured towards the bandaging at Cleo’s hip.

“Besides,” said Cleo, “even if I did tell them about the existence of mermaids, just now I said that they know about us, not all of us. If I hadn’t, you would have been the one to tell them just now!”

“Aaaaahhhguuhh!” Mumbo let out a frustrated yell towards the ceiling before hitting his head with the palm of his hand. “Stupid, oh my word I’m such a spoon.” He fell back into the side of the desk and rested his head in this hands, the room going quiet around him.

After a few moments, Stress piped up. “So, Mumbo, right? I’m guessing you're a friend of Cleo?” She gave a friendly laugh. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Cleo sighed and gave her friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

“I guess there’s going to have to be a lot more introductions soon.”