#showing up to dinner dates with protective gloves and a face mask

[mycological-mariner]

Do you guys even know how much it breaks my heart that I can’t gift bouquets of mushrooms?? Do you know how much I suffer???

[hrina]

In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes! 

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much 

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

    March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

    April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

    April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won��t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

    April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

if you enjoyed this series, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[pink-peony-princess]

A Little Piece of Art

The art gallery had always been one of Shawn's favourite places, he loved the colours, the textures, even the smell of the freshly painted canvases.

During his residency year of Emergency Medicine this love, had become something more, something sacred. His weekly visits to the local art galleries were the only chance he got to 'just be'. He found something so comforting in the way the colours melded together forming any number of unique patterns, the colours quietly, but boldly expressing the many emotions with fuelled the artist's work.

Maybe it was this that he connected with the most? Life as a medical resident was hectic, always ruled, by other people's, needs, wants, emotions, there never seemed to be time to address your own wants and needs. But time, at the art gallery, Shawn found, gave him an escape, a way to wonder off into a world of bright unchecked colour and vibrancy, away from the harsh unrelenting realities of people's all too often life-threatening and life-changing injuries, away from everything an everyone. Well everyone except one person that was.

He'd first met Auburn three years ago, it was a chance encounter, he wasn't meant to walk into that particular little gallery , and she wasn't meant to working that day, but as fate had it she was and he did.

They'd striked up a friendship fairly quickly, a mutual interest and respect for the works of art and the artist's behind them fuelled many hours of conversation. There had always been an unspoken, but undeniable chemistry between the two of them, but Shawn was busy with work and didn't want to drag someone else into that mess, and Auburn was just too shy to ask

When Shawn found out that Auburn was single, he was shocked. She was gorgeous, with long platinum blonde straight hair and the perfect figure, yet up close she had just the right amount of freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose, breaking the facade of perfection.

Auburn had been equally as confused when Shawn admitted that he too was single. She could understand the reasoning behind it, with a busy job and other commitments including a family that lived out of state, she couldn't however get over, but Shawn was gorgeous like some Greek God doctor-model who had just made his way from the runway and into her gallery. He was tall and lean, but muscular with tattoos scattering his hands and arms, deep brown eyes which seemed to reach your soul with the barest glace and a mop of perfectly kept brown curls- always tamed by hair product which Auburn longed to run her fingers through.

Two years and much flirting later and Shawn had finally gotten up the courage to ask her out l, to which she immediately agreed. He'd taken her to one of his favourite restaurants for dinner and they're talked for hours as if they'd known one another for a lifetime. Shawn told her about his hobbies, medicine was number one for which Auburn admired him for following his passions, closely followed by the guitar and ice hockey, not to mention family, he loved his family, Auburn found this to be an immediate turn-on as she too was close to her family although she couldn't get to see them as often as she liked l, they were across country and an art gallerist's wages certainly did not cover the cost of the ticket.

She found herself telling him all her most embarrassing stories from grade school when she's tripped and fallen into a muddy puddle bigger than she was in front of her entire class, and all about the time she'd been left to sit outside the movie theatre in 8th grade for two hours waiting for a date that would never show.

Shawn was furious at this, exclaiming that he would never do that to a girl, and anyone who would, was a coward, before downing the rest of his Tequila.

Admittedly by then they were both a little drunk and high on life and the presence of each other

When the evening ended Shawn walked Auburn home like the gentleman he was,turning to leave her and she made it to the doorstep, but something in him made him turn around causing him to crash into her body with the force of a truck as she too made her way to him. The two sharing a heated kiss before Auburn turned head down to hide the raging blush and wide smile that lit up her face and made her way inside.

From that moment the two had been inseperable, with Auburn moving into Shawn's condo- a far cry from the crusty old place she'd rented when she first got the city.

They'd done the whole meeting each other's families, both feeling completely at home and welcome, before a year later getting the happy news that they were expecting.

Auburn had been feeling off for over a week when Shawn finally convinced her to go to the doctors and get a blood drawn, a million things flying through his head as to what it might be.

The pregnancy news had completely shocked them both, but as they had sat there together staring down at the piece of paper stating the cause of all her sickness, irritability and hunger there was no denying that it was right.

They were over the moon, elated at the idea of being parents with Shawn referring to the baby as he laid his hands on her stomach as "Their happy little ancient!"

To say that Shawn was protective was an understatement a helicopter parent (to be) might be more apt Auburn thought as Shawn handed her what fleet like her tens of pills as she ate her breakfast before rushing from the room only half dressed to finish getting ready for work which now that he was finished residency (and at the top of his class, which Auburn loved to brag to her friends about) was a local hospital where he was working.

...

The day started normally, Auburn went off to the gallery to start her day l, daydreaming of seeing Shawn who'd been away on training for the last little bit.

Somewhere in this perfect daydream, everything came crashing down. The last thing Auburn was aware of was the screech of tyres and the immense, unstoppable feeling of pain.

...

"Dr Craigen,we need you in triage one." Brian's nurse Amy spoke as she came skidding into the room.

"Can it wait?"  He asked looking up briefly from the hand of a young girl he was suturing after she was bitten by a dog.

"No, it can't." He could hear the tension in her voice,  so he stood removing his gloves,  and paging another doctor to take care of the girl before following her out.

"What is it? Who?"  He asked as Amy all but ran through the corridor. His question was cut short as they reached the bay in question.

"Just stay still! For God sake, you don't have a choice." He couldn't see the patient's face from outside the door,  but he could see that two nurses and an intern were currently trying to restrain her,  against her will.

"What on earth do you think youre doing Doctor Tanaran?"  Brian asked as he grabbed a pair of gloves and stepped into the room. The intern stepped back from the patient, turning to look at him.

"We need to get an I.V. in her,  but she's not cooperating," he responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Brian?" The person on the bed asked. He recognised the voice immediately and sure enough as he stepped around to the other side of the bed,  there lay Auburn  a close personal friend, someone who he considered to be like a sister, and the girlfriend of one of his best friends, Dr. Shawn Mendes.

She was almost unrecognisable, bloodied,  and bruised,  tears flooding her face and falling into the linen of the bed staining it a muddy brown as they mixed with the blood flowing from a nasty looking gash on her head,  an oxygen mask laying forgotten beside her.

"Auburn?" he asked finally making eye contact, before looking up to find that she had not even been attached to any monitors yet.

"Everyone get your hands off the patient, now."  he stared poignantly at the intern that who still had his hands on her.

"She just wouldn't cooperate." he grumbled as he stepped back.

Brian saw red at that, turning to glare before speaking.

"Have you thought about why the patient might be uncooperative?  Have you even bothered to ask?"  I questioned folding my arms across my chest.

He looked down at the floor,  but didn't answer. "Didn't think so.  So not only have you terrified an already distressed patient,  but you've assaulted the girlfriend of Dr. Shawn Mendes,  head of this ER."

His head snapped up at this,  a look of shear panic on his face.

"Dr. Craigen I didn't think-"

"That's right,"  he interrupted.  "The same way you haven't thought the three other times I've had to speak to you over the duration of your time here so far.

Get out of this room,  and go and tell your resident that I don't want you on my service anymore.  Oh and Tanaran," Brian called as the man made his way for the exit.  "If I ever see or hear you do something like that ever again,  I will personally make sure you're pulled from this program."

He sighed and turned around to see Auburn smiling softly.

"Thanks Bri"  she spoke softly, very dazed,reaching her hand out for him to take. Somewhat restricted by the board and collar she had been placed on for spinal management.

"No problem hon. He's got an attitude that one.

So I'm just going to start slowly okay.  I'm just going to hook you up to some monitors so that we can check you're heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen. Can I see the chart please? " he asked one of the nurses that was stood meekly in the corner.

"Yes Doctor," she responded before leaving and returning a minute later with the relevant information.

"Okay so it says here,  that apart from that gash on your forehead and a fracture to your arm you have  some fractured ribs, a suspected bruised spleen and a dislocated ankle as well as possible spinal injuries," he listed off as he took in the notes from the Emergency Services.

"They only got half way through checking her." the other nurse  responded. Brian nodded, before placing the chart in the holder at the end of the bed,  and returning to Auburn's side. He picked up her hand gently to check her pulse,  watching as her eyes fluttered,  drooping slightly.

"Auburn, I need you to try and stay awake for me," he spoke, tapping her check softly, moving to check her focal response with his pen light and finding that she had a fairly moderate concussion.

She let out a small groan,  but managed to open her eyes, watching me tiredly.

"That's it," he praised. " smiling before grabbing his stethoscope from around his neck and resting it to her chest.

"Deep breathes," he asked quietly. She did as asked, but it was obvious from the way she was wincing every time she inhaled that she was in pain.

"It hurts and I want Shawn." she cried.

"I know you do hon. We'll get him here soon," he promised, paging one of his nurses to go and find him.

"How bad is your pain one to ten?' he asked,  watching her closely.

"Eight " she answered.

"Okay I'm going to help ease some of that okay. " he spoke resting the I.V.tray that the previous doctor had set up next to the bed.

"Tell me what you remember? " he asked, trying to keep her talking.

"I was just crossing the street,  and a car came out of nowhere. I don't know what happend. I was coming to see Shawn." she added.

"I'm sorry Auburn. " He really did feel sorry for her,  not only as a doctor, but as a friend.  She and Shawn had barely gotten to see one another the last few weeks, and now this. 

"They didn't even stop to help me! " She cried, more tears trailing down her face. He felt so sorry for her, and sick at the thought of how Shawn might react. He just hoped Shawn was able to stay calm,  for both of their sakes.

"Small scratch." he warned, inserting the line, and getting her started on some much needed fluids and pain relief. She flinched a little,  but didn't pull away. "Okay, so I'm going to get Dave to come and  help me with a spinal exam,  and he should also be able to determine if we need x-rays for these breaks okay" he explained gently,trying not to scare her.

She looked worried at the mention of x-rays,  but he just assumed it was due to her being clastrophobic,  as she didn't say anymore on the subject.

He walked out of the room, quietly closing the door after me, and made my way to the nurses station where I found Dave helping a nurse. As an Orthopedic doctor he was often called down for consults, so it was common to find him here.

"Dave, do you mind helping me for a second mate?" he asked, before coming to stand next to him waiting as he finished his conversation.

"Yeah what is it?" he asked as Brian handed him Auburn's chart.

"Auburn?" He asked disbelief clear in his tone,  eyebrows raised in confusion. "Auburn as in Shawn's Auburn.What happend?

"

"Hit and run." he answered. Causing Dave to wince in sympathy. "They didn't even stop!"

"Has anyone gotten a hold of Shawn?" He asked, shaking his head as they made their way to the door of Auburn's room.

"Yeah, but she's quite distressed obviously,  so I'm just taking it really slowly. At least until Shawn gets here, unless something is absolutely vital," he told him. Dave nodded before opening the door, and greeting Auburn with a bright smile.

"Hi Auburn, Bri told me you got in a fight with a car?" He asked, causing her to smile faintly.

"What have we got so far?" he asked.

"Large laceration on the forehead and a fracture to the left  arm, some fractured ribs, a suspected bruised spleen and a dislocated right ankle as well as possible spinal injuries, she is also complaining of chest pain." Brian added as he hummed at the growing list of ailments.

"Auburn are you having any trouble breathing? " he asked, she nodded letting him listen to her breathing as Brian had. The room was quiet for a few moments except for the beeping of the machines as he moved the stethoscope around her chest, before stepping back with a sigh.

"Slightly muffled left side," he agreed, glancing to the monitors,  a look of concern on his face.

"It'll need to get an x-ray,  and maybe an ultrasound." Brian nodded, adding,

"I'd also like to get some CTs of the head just to be sure there is no underlying bleeding. Is it okay if we give you some oxygen?" he asked wanting to up her saturation, especially given her breathing troubles.

She made a small jerk of the head in the affirmative,  allowing him to place the mask that had lay beside her back on her face.

"Any other pain?" Dave asked lifting the blanket to assess the damage to her lower extremities, she took a few shaky breaths.

"Just my ankle."

" Okay,we just need to turn you and have a feel of your spine. Before we do, anything else, as we don't want to aggregate anything." Dave explained coming back to stand at the head of the bed. "All you need to tell me is if you feel anything sore."

She hummed in resonse,  unable to nod due to the collar.

"On three, one,two,three. " Brian spoke before rolling her and holding her steady.

"Any tenderness?" Dave asked as he made his way down her spine, gently feeling for abnormalities.

"No." she answered innnediately.

"Wiggled your toes for me?" he asked as he went to stand by the end of the bed again. She did so,  causing them both to breathe a sigh of relief.

Five minutes later and Dave l had decided that x- rays were necessary, due to the precarious nature of the fractures in her arm and ankle and that the fractured ribs did need further investigation, however that no spinal damage had been done,  meaning she could be removed from the collar and brace.

"Where's Shawn?"  She asked, again as they went about removing the neck brace. Brian was starting to wonder what was taking the nurse so long himself.

-Shawn-

I hadn't been able to focus all day, it was my first day back after being away at a two week trauma conference,and also the first time I would be able to see Auburn and the baby since she was meeting me at work. I sighed as I tried yet again to focus on the swirling numbers of the department's budget on the screen in front of me.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a knock.  "Dr. Mendes you're needed down in triage. Urgently." A nurse spoke,making me stand and follow her immediately.

-Third Person-

"He's on his way now hon, but we really should get you up to x-rays okay." Dave spoke, going to start moving the bed.

"Not not until Shawn is here," she begged, catching his hand and stopping him. Seconds later, and Shawn ran through the door, eyes wide as he took in the site of me.

"Auburn, baby,what happend?" he asked, leaning down and gently stroking her head, careful of the cut.

"They didn't stop!A car!" She cried a fresh batch of tears starting.

Shawn was pretty calm considering the situation, Auburn however was not, Brian could see from the monitor that her heart rate was spiking and he tipped his head to Shawn, indicating for him to do something.

"Try and slow your breathing honey," he encouraged softly as it spiked to about 130 when it had previously been sitting about 110. She managed to slow it a little, Shawn not saying anything,  merely cupping her face gently and kissing her head.

"Shawn, " Daves spoke,  "we really need to get her to x-ray. She has broken ribs, we need to determine how bad."

"No, no x-ray," she interrupted again.

"Sweetheart, you'll be fine,  I promise. " he spoke,  stroking her hand softly.

"It's not that." She answered, looking away.

"Then what?" Dave asked looking to Shawn.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered. "We found out two weeks ago. We wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Someone get Connor down here," Shawn ordered almost too calmly.

Dave and Brian shared a worried look, if she was pregnant,  there was a possibility that something may have effected the baby.

"Page Connor." Dave mumbled to Brian.

"I've already done it ,he's on his way." Briam tried to reassure him, hoping that he would calm a little at the fact that the best ObGyn was going to be consulting.

"No what if something's wrong? " Auburnpanicked,  catching on.

"Auburn you need the ultrasound," Shawn spoke firmly.

Her lip wobbled a little causing Shawn to soften his tone a little.  "I'm sorry babe,  I'm just worried about you. And you need the x-rays," he added.

"Auburn, you need to understand that while normally we wouldn't use x-ray, in this instance it's important,  we won't have a healthy baby,  unless it's mummy is healthy too yeah? " Dave explained gently.

  "O-okay," she agreed reluctantly.

"I think we can however forgo the CT, given that you've been alert the whole time. " Brian spoke earning a smile from her.

"But you won't be allowed to sleep for the next few hours and even once you can we'll need to wake you every hour, on the hour," Dave warned.

Just as we were about to start moving up to radiology having unhooked the bed Connor arrived.

"Sorry I came down as fast as I could," he apologised "Hi Auburn," he smiled as he came over to the side of the bed.

"So you found out you were pregnant two weeks ago?" he asked. She nodded.  "And everything has been normal so far? No bleeding?

"

"No." She answered, nervously, causing Shawn to squeeze her hand a little.

"Okay then, I'm just going to pull your gown up."  he did so before reaching for the gel. That was housed next to the portable ultrasound machine that we always kept in the triage bays. They were smaller, and less powerful, but still useful in situations like this. "This will be a little cold," he spoke before placing the gel on her stomach. The room was silent, everyone waiting with baited breath, Auburn with her eyes shut. Connor hit a button on the machine and the room was filled with a rhythmic thumping.

"What's that?" her eyes snapping open to met his.

"Congratulations Auburn, that is your baby's heart beat. Junior seems very happy,  very strong heart rate at 150 beats per minute." Connor smiled. 

" Oh my God!" she cried reaching up to hug Shawn, before sharing a kiss.

"Judging by the size, bubby's just gone 12 weeks," Connor added, pointing out the measurements on the screen.

Everyone's faces were the same- all smiling from ear to ear.

"Do you want a copy of the scan?" Connor asked.

"Hell yeah!" Shawn agreed making Leah laugh. "This is going on the fridge."

Twenty minutes later, and we had all gone down to radiology, Shawn not having left her side. A permanent smile etched on his face.

"Just stay still for me Auburn." Dave asked,adjusting her leg to get the right image.

Once that was done, and it was determined that nothing needed surgery she was taken back up to a more private room, and Dave set about casting her.

"This will feel a little funny, but it won't hurt now." He reassured her as she became a little fidgety,  giving her some laughing gas and upping her pain meds slightly.

It was then Brian's turn to stitch up the wounds on her head, something which should have been very straight forward, but she was terrified,  having all but jumped (or gotten as far,which wasn't very) into Shawn's arms.

"It won't hurt Princess, Brian will numb you up good okay?" he spoke, sitting next to her, while Brian sat on a rolly chair by her head, Dave next to Shawn.

"Ready?"

She nodded.

"You're being so brave Princess," Shawn encouraged as she clung to his hand.

"Have you thought of any names for the baby?" Connor asked from where he sat in the corner working, having left briefly while they were at radiology and then returned, wanting to be here for support. Something which Shawn was grateful for.

...

An hour later and they were officially off shift, but  had all taken up residency in Auburn's room,  wanting to keep an eye on her, as she was a part of the family. They all sat quietly doing paper work,  as she rested, fast asleep now that we have deemed it safe.

"How are you feeling Shawn?" Brian asked, looking up to find Shawn watching her.

"I don't know, I have never felt so many emotions in one day!" he laughed, before Auburn broke the silence with a small moan.

" I'm cold," she mumbled,  "And sore," she added, visibly shivering.

"Here,  budge up." Shane spoke, helping her to move over,  before getting into the small bed again.

Connor got up to adjust the pain meds and check her vitals. However she didn't settle.  "What's wrong Poppet?" Shawn asked. Sometimes the meds could make patients a little agitated.

"I want to have a bath,  I feel gross,  and you smell different. " she grumbled,  her nose wrinkling. Shawn looked up at Connor and Brian,all laughing.

"How much of the stuff did you give her?

"

"I'm serious." she pouted, swotting Shawn's shoulder. "I don't like the smell of the scrubs. It doesn't smell like you."

"How 'bout this?" he asked bending down to reach for his bag, and grabbing a hoodie.

"Much better," she spoke,  nuzzling her head into him.

"Now I'll help give you a pat down with a cloth if you want?" he offered. You can't really have a proper bath yet cause of all the wiring and your cast."

She nodded

"Just sit up slowly okay. You might feel a little dizzy." Brian warned, standing up to help too.

  Connor went ahead to start the water for her while Dave came to help move the wiring as they supported her to hop to the bathroom. Eventually Shawn just picked her up,being extra careful of her ribs, holding her under her shoulders instead,and cradling her somewhat like an infant.

Half hour later, and Shawn had successful sponge bathed her, the rest of the group having gone back to their work while they waited.

"Get some rest Princess,you've got a little piece of art growing in there, you and Jellybean need it, he whispered as he placed her back in bed, rubbing her stomach softly.

"Love you," she whispered, already half asleep.

"Love you more," he replied kissing her head, they all shared a smile, because at that moment, all was right with the world.

[simplyotometrash]

Hi! I just came across your A-Z fluff head cannons for Asmo and I loved it!!! (Requesting one for Lucifer please 😭 the overworked dad needs some fluff)

Of course! Usually I would ask you to just send in 5 letters, but since I did the whole thing for Asmo without any requests at all, I think I can put together one for Lucifer!

Fluff ABCs- Lucifer

Full Alphabet

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Your dedication and stubbornness. You’ve gotta be stubborn if you’re in love with Lucifer. He’s hard-headed and prideful, it can take a lot to get through to his very guarded heart. He doesn’t want to lose someone again, so the fact you were stubborn enough to pursue him and prove yourself in multiple situations is a quality he greatly admires about you.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Hands. He loves your hands. Watching your hands as you do tasks, holding your hands when he needs a break, how they feel in his hair when you rub his head after a stressful day or meeting. Your hands calm him down when he’s angry at Mammon. He adores them. If he had it his way, they’d be soft and supple for the rest of your life and you’d never have to lift a finger. Of course, he knows you’re not that kind of person.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He’s a big spoon cuddler all the fucking way. He feels like he is guarding you by being the big spoon. You fit nicely in his arms, no matter how tall you are. He enjoys wrapping his arm around your waist, tucking your body back against his. There are rare occasions where he will be the little spoon, but only when you’re facing one another. He will bury his face against your chest or neck and let you be the one holding him. Only when he’s exhausted, drunk, or stressed.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Getting him to make time for a date is the thing. He’s a busy, overworked man. He likes taking you out to nice dinners, then taking a walk before going back home. His dates are simple and on the formal side. His brothers claim he needs to spice things up and be more spontaneous, though that isn’t his preference. He likes to keep it classy.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

It takes a long time for him to let the mask drop. The facade cracks and he can be open to you. It’s just a matter of breaking through. He will let his words do everything while he physically keeps himself guarded. He refuses to physically break down. It’s very rare for him to even cry. Very rare. And sometimes you have to coax his feelings out of him. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell you. Lucifer is used to getting through things on his own, having to be strong, and be the elder brother and father figure to his brothers. Learning to lean on someone takes time and he’s afraid of being vulnerable.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Give him some time to actually settle down. He feels like a father to his brothers, especially when they act like a group of children. Once he is settled more, though, he’d love to have a family. One or two children would be enough for him, he doesn’t need a house full. He needs a fucking break from the chaos. Give him that break before bringing up children.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Gifts from him are sparing. It’s not that he doesn’t want to shower you in presents, he’s just very contained and reserved. He reserves gifts for special occasions or when he feels the urge take him over. You never know exactly when you’ll get something from Lucifer, so it keeps you on your toes.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He isn’t a big PDA man. He doesn’t hold your hand too often in public, not because he doesn’t want to but rather because he doesn’t feel the need to do it. He likes it when you hook your hand in his elbow while walking together. But he holds your hand all the time when in private. He takes his gloves off and holds your hands in his, enjoying the peace it brings him.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

He would not be able to keep his calm. He would be in his demon form instantly, bringing hell down upon the demon that hurt you. That demon will be lucky if they’re not dead. Why did they think to hurt the partner of Diavolo’s right-hand man? It was a big mistake.

If he hurt you, he would be filled with regret. He would vow to make it up to you every day and remember to restrain himself when he gets angry. It was most likely an accident, he didn’t know you were there. 

If it was you being clumsy, he would chuckle and pick you up off the ground. He would check you over for any serious injury but otherwise not be too concerned. 

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Lucifer isn’t much for pranks or jokes. He’ll chuckle at yours but it isn’t really his thing, you know?

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

He likes to kiss you deeply. Long, slow kisses against your mouth with tongues tangling together. He prefers sensual kisses. He isn’t a fan of chaste kisses that give him little satisfaction. He’s a demon who knows what he wants. That is why he prefers to kiss you in private, where he can do things as he sees fit. Given his position, he has an image he needs to keep up with. But that doesn't mean shit when it comes to being in love with you.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Taking time out of his busy days with work to just be with you. It doesn't matter how long. He will always find a way to make some time with you no matter how busy he is. It can be a quick lunch, a full dinner date, taking a walk when he is taking a break, or letting you play with his hair. This is a man who will find the time to be with you every single day.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The first night you told him you loved him. He’d never felt so warm in his chest before. He felt loved. Like he had more purpose than just to be Diavolo’s second in command and parent his brothers constantly. He felt that there was more for him in life than he ever could have imagined. Those three words meant more to him than you even realized. He actually teared up, though he will deny it if you ever bring it up. It’s his fondest memory of you.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Losing you. The thought of you disappearing from the world- from his life- is haunting. It makes him sick to his stomach. He will do everything in his power to protect you from harm, unlike how he failed to truly protect Lilith. He doesn’t care that Lilith survived and carried on a normal life. He failed her. He won’t fail you.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

You’ve noticed it time and time again. He has pens that don’t ever get used for writing. You know his writing tools, he uses them every damn day. But these pens serve another purpose. You know this because you have a photo to prove it. When Lucifer is stressed out or in deep thought, he pulls out a pen and chews on the end of it so he doesn’t accidentally do that to what he’s actually writing with. He looks so harmless when he’s in thought, teeth clamped around the end of a pen. It’s adorable.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He calls you dear, little dove, dearest, and dearest one. Slightly sounds like an old man with how tame his pet names are, but they bring butterflies to your stomach when he says them.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

If he isn’t able to take you out, he likes it when you lay in bed together and you read to him. Yes, he is fully capable of reading on his own but there is something about laying with his head in your lap while you read aloud. You always pick novels you think he’ll enjoy, but he doesn’t actually care. He loves listening to the sound of your voice as you get into what you’re reading. You begin to encapsulate the work of fiction and bring it to life in your own way.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Lucifer trusts you but he isn’t one to divulge his secrets to you if he doesn’t feel he has to. It’s nothing personal, he loves you and trusts you greatly, but he doesn’t tell anyone his secrets unnecessarily. If he tells you one of his secrets, you know that it’s been eating at him lately.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

It took a few months. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with, he truly did, but he was afraid. He didn’t want to get close to you and risk losing you. The idea of that was painful. He was scared to take that risk. You broke through his walls and he knew he couldn't let you go. You’ve been together ever since.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He is level headed and calm when you’re upset. He does his best to help you, to make you feel better. He is there to listen to you, to hold you when you cry, let you vent, anything. He does his best.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He loves showing you off in a very classy manner. He likes having you on his arm, making it clear that you were taken. It’s very rare for any demon to try hitting on you, which is the entire point. 

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

It chills him to the core to think about you fighting. He doesn’t want to see you fight, ever. If you get threatened or challenged to fight, he would rather be there to settle things. He does not want you to be in a fight if he can help it. 

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Lucifer is good at reading you. He knows how to read people, he has to. He wants to be able to help you, so he reads your body language and the tone of your voice.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Lucifer, true to form, wants to keep it classy. He takes you out to a very nice dinner at Ristorante Six (compliments of Diavolo who insisted on helping Lucifer), a nice, relaxing walk after dinner until you get somewhere with a nice view, and that’s when he would break out the heartfelt speech he’s been practicing secretly for weeks.  

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

When you’re rubbing his head while he lays in your lap and you read a book to him. It’s the highlight of his day, even if it only happens for a short time. It always calms him down and is even able to help him unwind to get some sleep.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Back in Time (Indruck superhero AU)

This was based on a prompt requested by several folks on the Indruck discord, and is set in the same universe as “The Thrilling Adventures of the Green Knight,” taking place some time after “Aww, Rats.”  It deals with memory loss, so if that’s a no-go for you this is one to skip.

Duck Newton is proud of how far his boyfriend has come. How a man who was once, in his own words, “a hissing, scheming villain” now dedicates his life to protecting the city of Kepopolis, fights side by side with Duck to keep their home, their city, and their friends safe. 

But sometimes, he wishes the self-preservation instinct that ruled him as a villain made more appearances. If it did, Duck might not be sitting outside the med bay of the hideout, jiggling his knee while he waits for news. Indrid might not have thrown himself in front of the blast from Dr. Amig Dahlias’ newest invention. 

Duck might be unconscious in the med bay instead, but he’ll take that outcome any day.

The door slides open and Dani pokes her head out, “He’s waking up.”

“Oh thank fuck.” He rushes inside, takes Indrid’s hand as the silver-haired man groans and shifts on the cot. 

“S’okay sugar, you’re in the base, everyone is safe, just take it easy.”

Red eyes blink open. Then stay that way, wide and scanning the room.

“I...I am glad everyone is safe. That is good. But, ah, I, I…” he turns to look at Duck, “I’m sorry, I do not know who any of you are.”

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

“Is it permanent?” Duck corners Dr. Octavius the minute he’s out of the room. The doctor is one of the best when it comes to dealing with damage from supers of all kinds. 

“I’m not sure. That blast he was hit with dealt a massive blow to his memory; as far as I can tell, he can’t remember anything from his past. Not his childhood, not his time as a villain, not all of you. I don’t know if this was the intended result, but the blast also severely dampened his precognition; his powers are functionally dormant.”

“Fuck.”

Dr. Octavius sets a hand on his shoulder; they’ve known each other a long time, he’s been patching Duck up since his days with the Chosen Squad. Some childish part of Duck’s brain had hoped he could make Indrid better, the way he always made Duck. 

“It may not be permanent, and I think the chances are good the memories are all suppressed, rather than gone. I’ll consult with some colleagues to see what can be done.”

“Thanks, Doc. Is he okay? I mean, uh, is he scared or anythin?”

“Mainly confused, which is understandable.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Thanks.” He waves as the man departs, then grabs his phone. Maybe there’s someone else who can help. 

Dr. Mwangi arrives a half hour later; she’s Indrid’s therapist and, like Dr. Nelson, the vet, she’s one of the few people in Kepopolis whose office is neutral territory. She helps supers of all alignments, and Indrids’ flashbacks are more easily handled since he started seeing her. 

“Just...do you think there’s anythin I can do to help him remember?”

“Any photographs, items of emotional significance from his past or present, those might help bring some memories back to the surface. Maybe taking him places that he’s fond of, or where important things happened. And I agree with you all that keeping all the super hero business quiet for now, as it could be completely overwhelming. Other than that, all we can be is patient. Is he staying with you?”

“Yeah. Our place is the safest, thanks to all the security he installed, so if word gets out where we live or that he’s incapacitated in some way, no one’ll be able to get in and hurt him.”

“That’s good. But I was more concerned with the need for him to be with someone he trusts. Even if he doesn’t remember you, I suspect he’ll feel safe with you.”

Duck looks into the other room, where Indrid is chatting with Aubrey (“I have a niece? That’s wonderful”). 

“God, I hope so.”

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

“You are...my boyfriend?”

“Yeah” Duck is fighting to keep a gentle smile on his face, to not crumple at the lack of recognition in Indrid’s eyes, “we been together almost two years.”

“You seem very nice. And handsome. I must be very lucky.”

“Here we are.” Duck flips on the lights, shuts the door and arms it, “home sweet home.”

“This is love--OH, oh hello.” Indrid smiles as Chicken runs up to them, demanding her dinner, “who is this.”

Duck’s heart twists with disappointment for the three-hundreth time that day; he keeps hoping the next thing they encounter will be the one to jog Indrid’s memory.

“That’s Chicken.”

“She’s so charming. I had no idea cats could be hairless.”

Duck nods with a tight smile, is digging out the new bag of cat food when Indrid chirps with delight. 

“Rats! You have rats!” His face is pressed to one of the boxes of Ratopia, his mischief of five scurrying up to greet him, “I love rats, they are so clever and resourceful.”

“They’re, uh, they’re more yours than mine. They missed you, see?” He opens the nearest door on the enclosure and five furry little bodies run out, squeaking for treats and attention. Void clambers up Indrid’s body like a black comet, letting out indignant noises when he finds Indrids coat without it’s usual special pocket for his “heart rat.” Indrid scoops Void into his hands, studying him. 

“I am sorry, little ones. You seem to know me, but I don’t know you. I would like to, though.”

“You, uh, you wanna spend some time with them while I get dinner goin?”

“Yes, please.”

Duck starts water on the stove, pulls down the box of pasta, when Indrid speaks from behind him. 

“The same applies to you, you know. I do not know you, Duck Newton.”

The box crunches in half in his hands

“But I would very much like to.”

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

It’s been three weeks, and Indrid’s memory shows no signs of returning. Duck tries to hold onto hope, tries looking on the bright side, but it all turns to rubble when he feels the empty space beside him in bed, makes a comment or reference only for Indrid to blink in confusion. 

There is one bright spot, which is that Indrid insists Duck starts their courtship over. He’s adamant that he wants to build up to dating Duck again, that he clearly has met someone wonderful and is not about to let a little bout of amnesia get in the way, thank you very much. 

So Duck takes him on date after date, finding some happiness in watching Indrid experience things he enjoys for a second-first-time. They get Gelato, Mrs. Nguyen shooting Duck a puzzled look when Indrid asks to sample several flavors, rather than ordering his usual Blue Moon with marshmallow sauce on top. They go to the movies, the zoo, to one of Aubrey’s magic shows, and all the while Duck keeps his hands glued into his pockets; Indrid is still learning to be comfortable with him, and he will not so much as brush a hair from his face unless he’s sure it’s what he truly wants. 

When Indrid takes his hand as they’re walking out of a movie, Duck tears up with embarrassing speed. 

Today, they’re in the Monongahela, Duck taking Indrid on the lake loop. As they round a patch of reeds, the taller man points out onto the sparkling water. 

“What kind of ducks are those?”

“Wood Ducks” he replies softly, then laughs to himself, “you must really like ‘em, they were one of the first things you ever, uh, ever asked me about.”

“Really? I suppose that makes sense, their coloration is stunning.”

“Yeah.” Duck watches the two birds paddling on the water; he can’t be certain, but he thinks they’re the same mated pair that fascinated Indrid two years ago. The memory of Indrid, voice curious and shy rather than taunting, asking Duck what the bird was over the phone makes him ache down to his neurons. 

“I’m sorry, Duck. I know this cannot be easy on you.” Indrid is watching him through his slightly tinted tortoiseshell glasses, “to have to wait for me to fall in love with you again.”

“‘Drid” Duck takes him by his shoulders so they’re face to face, “I can’t lie for shit, so I ain’t gonna say I don’t wake up everyday hopin you remember me. But what I want outta all of this is for you to be happy, to have whatever kind of life feels right to you. Even if we don’t end up together in it or I, uh, I ain’t in at all.”

Strangely, Indrid smiles, soft and bright, as the admission hangs between them. Then he cups Duck’s cheek and leans down, kissing Duck so lightly that it’s only the sensation of too-cold hands on his skin that let’s Duck know he isn’t dreaming. 

“Wha-”

“It just felt right.” Indrid smiles wider, and holds a little tighter, wondering if this is it.

His phone rings, the tone that signals “shits going down, suit up.”

“Fuck.” He grabs it, brings it to his ear “go for Duck”

“It’s the fucking White Star boys again. They’re threatening to set off a bomb from the top of the GreenBriar Mall and are causing a major scene downtown.” From the sound of it, Barclay is driving as he talks. 

“Fuck, okay, lemme get Indrid somewhere safe and I’ll be right there.”

“Somewhere safe? Duck, what’s going on.” Indrid pulls his sweater around himself

“Long story, swear to fuckin god I’ll tell you later, now come on.” They run back to the car and Duck floors it out onto the highway. The nearest safehouse is close to the mall, so he can drop Indrid there, change, and go help his friends. 

This plan goes up in a literal cloud of smoke as cylinder hits the hood of the car, releasing a black cloud and causing Duck to careen into a fire hydrant. 

“Guess we’re closer to the whole mess than I thought.” He grumbles, grabbing his spare mask from the glove box and ripping off his shirt to reveal his hero garb underneath, “you okay?”

“Not really, as we just crashed and there is a lot of yelling happening outside.”

Duck takes his hand, “It’s probably obvious, but I’m a superhero, and a bunch of dipshits are tryin to blow up innocent folks. Stay close to me, I’ll try’n get you somewhere safe and come find you after this is taken care off.”

Indrid does not look convinced, holds onto Duck’s hand like he’ll be sucked up into space if he lets go. 

“It’ll be okay, ‘Drid. I promise.”

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

He focuses on Duck’s hand as they run, as if the link between them is enough to keep him safe. The chaos around them, the shouting and dust and disaster in the air, it all feels familiar. Then again, of his boyfriend is a superhero, maybe Indrid’s been in this situation before. 

Duck’s fingers are ripped from his own as the hero is tackled by a bulked-up man with a white star on his back. They two grapple on the ground, rolling out of sight in the surrounding smoke. Before he can call out, pain shatters through the back of his head and he hits the ground, pavement scraping his hands. He flips over, finds another starred man sneering down at him. 

“There you are. We all had bets going on whether the good doctor killed you with that ray.”

“I” Indrid scrambles back on his hands, head ringing too hard for him to stand up, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb, Cold. Everyone knows where the Knight is, you’re right behind him like some weird fucking shadow.”

“I’m not, I swear, please, I have no idea what’s going on.”

The man hits a button on his belt, and a short staff, covered in what looks like sci-fi barbed wire, springs into his hand. 

“Let me tell you, then: you’re a pain in the ass, and I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“Wait, please” his hand connects with something cold, and his fingers tell him it’s a bit of broken pipe. 

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna be fun to squash you like the bug you are.”

Indrid watches him raise the weapon. His fingers curl around the pipe. 

And he lets instinct take over.

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

Most of the mob scatters as soon as Aubrey gets the smoke under control, but some of the more determined White Star Boys put up a fight. Duck throws one off of him, turns towards the commotion of two more fighting-

Oh fuck.

“Indrid!” He runs towards the melee, then skids to a stop as his boyfriend takes one down with a skilled, precise blow to the head. The lands a cut on his cheek with a Bowie knife and Indrid snarls, whirling to break the offending hand and knocking the man’s head to the side with the lead pipe he’s using as a staff. 

The man goes down, hands weakly covering his face, and Indrid hits him again. And again. 

“Moth, for fucks sake, stop! He’s down, you don’t gotta kill him!”

Indrid locks eyes with Duck, tilts his blood-spattered head to the side.

“You have the wrong villain, hero. I am The Sword. And you are in my way.”

Indrid lunges and Duck braces to take the hit that never comes. There’s hissing and cursing from above him, and he looks up to see Indrid trapped in red light.

“I came to help the Lady Flame” The Quell regards Indrid with sorrowful eyes, “but it seems we have a far worse problem than those little  power-mad stars.”

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

“He’s much quieter than his brother” Stern stands outside the Pine Guard holding cell with Duck, while Indrid sits calming inside, eyes shut as if in sleep, “The Flame monologues whenever he gets a chance.”

“Of all the goddamn parts of his life to remember” Duck clonks his head into the wall. 

“I called every specialist on our roster; the consensus is that one of the white star boys must have attacked him. In moments of that kind of intense stress and fear, sometimes people revert back to what they first learned. In Indrid’s case, it was his training to be the perfect villain.”

Duck grunts in acknowledgement, keeps his head on the wall so he doesn’t have to look at the man he loves reverted to his worst instincts. 

“I promise we’ll take good care of him until our next move becomes clear.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

The agent takes a final look through the glass, “We’ll get him back somehow. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They’ve just reached the parking lot when alarms sound and lights flash, Joe’s communicator ringing like mad. He looks at it and blanches. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Indrid got out?” It’d be the perfect, shitty cap to a perfectly shitty day.

“Yes. Do you want me to call in back-up?”

Duck shakes his head, “No. I was real good at huntin’ down the Moth. Think I can find The Sword the same way.”

He doesn’t add, as Joe wishes him good luck, that he has a horrible feeling he already knows where Indrid is. 

Unlocking the apartment door, he takes two steps before his own SmartWhips close around his torso and arms. Indrid steps out of the hall, grinning at him.

Duck sighs, “Yeah. That’s why I figured.”

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

Indrid studies the trapped hero, wondering if he should ask him the main question  on his mind, which is whether this location they’ve been pretending is an apartment is Indrid’s hide-out or his. He’s been searching it for twenty minutes and even with his foresight back he cannot tell. He did find his staffs, smart glasses that are confusingly red rather than silver, and a set of wings he knows are based on a prototype of his. 

But that is not the most important question to his mission. 

“Where is The Flame?”

Duck shakes his head, “Not tellin you. You were the smartest villain I ever faced, Indrid, and I don’t doubt you could bust him out no problem. But you and I both know you don’t want that.”

“It is my duty to free my partner. It is for the best.”

“Is it really? You honestly tellin me you wouldn’t be happier far, far away from that brother of yours?”

Indrid forces his face to stay calm, but his guts twist; how could Duck know how often he wishes Apollo would go on a mission and never come back, or just leave him be for a few days so he could do something, anything other than villainy.

“You know nothing of my brother.”

“The last time he saw you, he tried to blow you up, tortured me, and then tried to kill in some weird trainin arena. He’s a cruel, egotistical dipshit.” 

“That...that sounds exactly like him. Very well, maybe you do know what you are talking about. So tell me where he is, and I will not be forced to get the information from you another way.”

Duck squirms, afraid, but stays silent. Indrid hauls his to his feet.

“Tell me where he is.”

“No. Let him rot, it’s what he deserves.”

“What he deserves is immaterial. What matters is he will get out one way or another and if he does it without my help he will-”

Duck gives a knowing look. Indrid huffs, drops him back to the ground. 

“Nevermind.”

“He’ll hit you with that lightning rod of his? Or threaten to drown you, like he did that time in, uh, in Kansas City?”

“Would you kindly shut up so I can think?” Indrid turns on his heel, begins pacing. Duck knows a great deal, which means Indrid must have confided in him at some point, likely before he lost his memory. Maybe he was interrogated by him? But even then it doesn’t make sense; Indrid can withstand any kind of torture. Well, almost any kind.

Why on earth did he tell the hero those things?

He spots the rat run, the little black one (Void, that was what Duck called him) sending demanding squeaks his way through the plexiglass. Indrid leans down, touching his fingertip to the glass to mirror the placement of the rat’s paw.

“I wonder if I could take you with me. Doubtless you would make a skilled minion.”

“‘Drid, the scariest thing he’s ever done is wear those glasses that make him look like a giant monster rat to scare off intruders.”

“What part of ‘shut up’ was unclear, chivalrous one?” Indrid glances over his shoulder, finds the hero sitting up with a hopeful expression.

“That nickname. ‘Drid, it’s the first time you called me that since you lost your memory. Do you remember anythin’ else about that name, about why you call me it?”

He thinks, gets flashes of images that he’s certain are the past, not the future; Duck, the Green Knight, throwing him out a window, chasing him from warehouses, trapping him in those blasted SmartWhips. Oh yes, he remembers him now.

“You. You are my nemesis.” 

“Uh, I was, but-”

Indrid laughs, high and sharp to cover the disappointment in his chest, “Oh that is diabolical. I lose my memory and what do you all do? You put me in the hands of my nemesis, convince me that I had a life with someone who cared for me as if that could change my nature. Not even I could concoct a plan that cruel, chivalrous one.”

“Indrid, please, you gotta remember the rest.”

“I do not need to do any such thing. But it does change what I do with you.” He stalks forward, wrenching Duck up by his hair. 

The whips close around his wrists, trapping them together. 

“Let me go this instant!”

“No can do, sugar. I ain’t gonna fight you, but I ain’t gonna let you hurt me, or anyone else.”

“You” Indrid sees the explanation coming, “you stole one of my smart picks! You are as bad as Apollo is!”

“Trust me, I ain’t.”

Indrid tries to hurl him against the counter, but Duck holds fast, causing the villain to simply unfurl the whip some. The hero giggles, quiet at first, then growing louder.

“Christ, it’s like fuckin deja vu, you and me bein like this. At least I did it on purpose this time.”

The villain is about to snap that there’s nothing funny about being trapped with one’s nemesis. Then the memory comes, he and Duck taken from enemies to allies in an instant as they tried to undo the malfunctioning smartwhip trapping them together. The night, about a week later, when Duck sent a spy B.U.G just to make sure Indrid wasn’t too badly hurt from a fight. 

The Green Knight, looking after the Moth as if he was a friend, not a villain. 

The Moth. He’s the Moth.

He surges forward, slamming his lips against Ducks mouth. The hero gasps, bound hands gripping the front of Indrid’s black shirt.

“My love, my love, Duck, I’m sorry, I am so sorry, one moment, I can get us unraveled.” He kisses him again, his mind and body registering the full weight of almost a month without his hero’s touch.

“Please tell me this means what I think it does” he mumbles into Indrid’s mouth.

“It does my love. More or less. Things are not coming back in a linear fashion, but it feels as if my memories have all awakened and will be in order eventually. I, I feel like myself, my full self, again.”

“Thank sweet baby christ, fuck” Duck huddles close, shoulders shaking, “didn’t know how much longer I could stay calm, you’re fuckin terrifyin  when you want to be.”

“Oh, oh dear, apologies” The whips drop to the ground, “I did not remember, I, I was more lethal, more willing slash and burn when I was The Sword, I never wanted you to be on the receiving end of that, oh goodness, I’m so sorry, my sweet.” He holds Duck to him, buries his face in his hair when he thinks of what he might have done.

“You’re back.” Duck presses a kiss to his neck, “you’re back. That’s all that matters, fuck, I missed you so much.”

Indrid shuts his eyes, holds fast to the man who makes his mind sing “home” with every beat of his heart.

“I missed you too, chivalrous one.”

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

Dr. Amig Dahlia prowls towards her laboratory. The Pine Guard brought her latest scheme crashing down, and it’s high time to make them all into blank slates, the way she did with the meddlesome Moth. At least he’s still nowhere to be found.”

“Hello, doctor.”  

Seated directly in front of the memory ray is none other than The Moth. He stands, patting the ray, “this is a very clever device, and had it not made my life, and the lives of others, miserable, I might applaud you for it. As it is, I am here to demand you disable it, and turn yourself in.”

“Last I checked, my ray didn’t damage your intelligence, so that idiotic idea must be all yours.”

The Moth cocks his head, “Is that a no?”

In answer, she steps forward, pressing in the sequence to arm the device. 

The hero stays put, right in it’s path, “firing on me will not end well. I  modified your device while you were distracted by my teammates. It will backfire when you pull the trigger”

“Nice try,but you’ll need a more convincing lie to get out of this one.” The lights on the side of the ray turn green. 

The wide smile changes, all ice and edges, “Before you make your choice, consider this; Because of you, I almost hurt the man I love.”

She rolls her eyes, touches the trigger, and white light explodes all around her.

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

“What did you do to that ray?” Duck stands next to him as they watch medics help a sobbing Amig Dahlia into an ambulance. 

“In addition to reversing the direction of the energy, I changed how it interacts with memory; instead of blanketing them over it pulls certain ones out and plays them on repeat. Namely, it pulls out those memories one would most like to forget.”

“Jesus.”

“Believe it or not, the futures show this being an exercise in empathy. The effects are not permanent, and when she comes out of them she will swear off villainy and move to Key West.”

He does not add that this seems a fitting quid pro quo for the fact recovering from her device means memories of his childhood appear without warning more than they usually do.

Duck is no longer beside him. There’s a metallic crack, and the hero drops the two halves of the ray on the ground. 

“Just to be safe.”

“A wise idea, chivalrous one.”

They finish up at the hidden lab, and the Moth and The Green Knight disappear into the Pine Guard base. Twenty minutes later, Indrid Cold and Duck Newton step inside their home. It’s warm and comfortable, bustling with love and promise. 

Just like Indrid remembers. 

[pinkpeonyprincessblog]

A Little Piece of Art

The art gallery had always been one of Shawn's favourite places, he loved the colours, the textures, even the smell of the freshly painted canvases.

During his residency year of Emergency Medicine this love, had become something more, something sacred. His weekly visits to the local art galleries were the only chance he got to 'just be'. He found something so comforting in the way the colours melded together forming any number of unique patterns, the colours quietly, but boldly expressing the many emotions with fuelled the artist's work.

Maybe it was this that he connected with the most? Life as a medical resident was hectic, always ruled, by other people's, needs, wants, emotions, there never seemed to be time to address your own wants and needs. But time, at the art gallery, Shawn found, gave him an escape, a way to wonder off into a world of bright unchecked colour and vibrancy, away from the harsh unrelenting realities of people's all too often life-threatening and life-changing injuries, away from everything an everyone. Well everyone except one person that was.

He'd first met Auburn three years ago, it was a chance encounter, he wasn't meant to walk into that particular little gallery , and she wasn't meant to working that day, but as fate had it she was and he did.

They'd striked up a friendship fairly quickly, a mutual interest and respect for the works of art and the artist's behind them fuelled many hours of conversation. There had always been an unspoken, but undeniable chemistry between the two of them, but Shawn was busy with work and didn't want to drag someone else into that mess, and Auburn was just too shy to ask

When Shawn found out that Auburn was single, he was shocked. She was gorgeous, with long platinum blonde straight hair and the perfect figure, yet up close she had just the right amount of freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose, breaking the facade of perfection.

Auburn had been equally as confused when Shawn admitted that he too was single. She could understand the reasoning behind it, with a busy job and other commitments including a family that lived out of state, she couldn't however get over, but Shawn was gorgeous like some Greek God doctor-model who had just made his way from the runway and into her gallery. He was tall and lean, but muscular with tattoos scattering his hands and arms, deep brown eyes which seemed to reach your soul with the barest glace and a mop of perfectly kept brown curls- always tamed by hair product which Auburn longed to run her fingers through.

Two years and much flirting later and Shawn had finally gotten up the courage to ask her out l, to which she immediately agreed. He'd taken her to one of his favourite restaurants for dinner and they're talked for hours as if they'd known one another for a lifetime. Shawn told her about his hobbies, medicine was number one for which Auburn admired him for following his passions, closely followed by the guitar and ice hockey, not to mention family, he loved his family, Auburn found this to be an immediate turn-on as she too was close to her family although she couldn't get to see them as often as she liked l, they were across country and an art gallerist's wages certainly did not cover the cost of the ticket.

She found herself telling him all her most embarrassing stories from grade school when she's tripped and fallen into a muddy puddle bigger than she was in front of her entire class, and all about the time she'd been left to sit outside the movie theatre in 8th grade for two hours waiting for a date that would never show.

Shawn was furious at this, exclaiming that he would never do that to a girl, and anyone who would, was a coward, before downing the rest of his Tequila.

Admittedly by then they were both a little drunk and high on life and the presence of each other

When the evening ended Shawn walked Auburn home like the gentleman he was,turning to leave her and she made it to the doorstep, but something in him made him turn around causing him to crash into her body with the force of a truck as she too made her way to him. The two sharing a heated kiss before Auburn turned head down to hide the raging blush and wide smile that lit up her face and made her way inside.

From that moment the two had been inseperable, with Auburn moving into Shawn's condo- a far cry from the crusty old place she'd rented when she first got the city.

They'd done the whole meeting each other's families, both feeling completely at home and welcome, before a year later getting the happy news that they were expecting.

Auburn had been feeling off for over a week when Shawn finally convinced her to go to the doctors and get a blood drawn, a million things flying through his head as to what it might be.

The pregnancy news had completely shocked them both, but as they had sat there together staring down at the piece of paper stating the cause of all her sickness, irritability and hunger there was no denying that it was right.

They were over the moon, elated at the idea of being parents with Shawn referring to the baby as he laid his hands on her stomach as "Their happy little ancient!"

To say that Shawn was protective was an understatement a helicopter parent (to be) might be more apt Auburn thought as Shawn handed her what fleet like her tens of pills as she ate her breakfast before rushing from the room only half dressed to finish getting ready for work which now that he was finished residency (and at the top of his class, which Auburn loved to brag to her friends about) was a local hospital where he was working.

...

The day started normally, Auburn went off to the gallery to start her day l, daydreaming of seeing Shawn who'd been away on training for the last little bit.

Somewhere in this perfect daydream, everything came crashing down. The last thing Auburn was aware of was the screech of tyres and the immense, unstoppable feeling of pain.

...

"Dr Craigen,we need you in triage one." Brian's nurse Amy spoke as she came skidding into the room.

"Can it wait?"  He asked looking up briefly from the hand of a young girl he was suturing after she was bitten by a dog.

"No, it can't." He could hear the tension in her voice,  so he stood removing his gloves,  and paging another doctor to take care of the girl before following her out.

"What is it? Who?"  He asked as Amy all but ran through the corridor. His question was cut short as they reached the bay in question.

"Just stay still! For God sake, you don't have a choice." He couldn't see the patient's face from outside the door,  but he could see that two nurses and an intern were currently trying to restrain her,  against her will.

"What on earth do you think youre doing Doctor Tanaran?"  Brian asked as he grabbed a pair of gloves and stepped into the room. The intern stepped back from the patient, turning to look at him.

"We need to get an I.V. in her,  but she's not cooperating," he responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Brian?" The person on the bed asked. He recognised the voice immediately and sure enough as he stepped around to the other side of the bed,  there lay Auburn  a close personal friend, someone who he considered to be like a sister, and the girlfriend of one of his best friends, Dr. Shawn Mendes.

She was almost unrecognisable, bloodied,  and bruised,  tears flooding her face and falling into the linen of the bed staining it a muddy brown as they mixed with the blood flowing from a nasty looking gash on her head,  an oxygen mask laying forgotten beside her.

"Auburn?" he asked finally making eye contact, before looking up to find that she had not even been attached to any monitors yet.

"Everyone get your hands off the patient, now."  he stared poignantly at the intern that who still had his hands on her.

"She just wouldn't cooperate." he grumbled as he stepped back.

Brian saw red at that, turning to glare before speaking.

"Have you thought about why the patient might be uncooperative?  Have you even bothered to ask?"  I questioned folding my arms across my chest.

He looked down at the floor,  but didn't answer. "Didn't think so.  So not only have you terrified an already distressed patient,  but you've assaulted the girlfriend of Dr. Shawn Mendes,  head of this ER."

His head snapped up at this,  a look of shear panic on his face.

"Dr. Craigen I didn't think-"

"That's right,"  he interrupted.  "The same way you haven't thought the three other times I've had to speak to you over the duration of your time here so far.

Get out of this room,  and go and tell your resident that I don't want you on my service anymore.  Oh and Tanaran," Brian called as the man made his way for the exit.  "If I ever see or hear you do something like that ever again,  I will personally make sure you're pulled from this program."

He sighed and turned around to see Auburn smiling softly.

"Thanks Bri"  she spoke softly, very dazed,reaching her hand out for him to take. Somewhat restricted by the board and collar she had been placed on for spinal management.

"No problem hon. He's got an attitude that one.

So I'm just going to start slowly okay.  I'm just going to hook you up to some monitors so that we can check you're heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen. Can I see the chart please? " he asked one of the nurses that was stood meekly in the corner.

"Yes Doctor," she responded before leaving and returning a minute later with the relevant information.

"Okay so it says here,  that apart from that gash on your forehead and a fracture to your arm you have  some fractured ribs, a suspected bruised spleen and a dislocated ankle as well as possible spinal injuries," he listed off as he took in the notes from the Emergency Services.

"They only got half way through checking her." the other nurse  responded. Brian nodded, before placing the chart in the holder at the end of the bed,  and returning to Auburn's side. He picked up her hand gently to check her pulse,  watching as her eyes fluttered,  drooping slightly.

"Auburn, I need you to try and stay awake for me," he spoke, tapping her check softly, moving to check her focal response with his pen light and finding that she had a fairly moderate concussion.

She let out a small groan,  but managed to open her eyes, watching me tiredly.

"That's it," he praised. " smiling before grabbing his stethoscope from around his neck and resting it to her chest.

"Deep breathes," he asked quietly. She did as asked, but it was obvious from the way she was wincing every time she inhaled that she was in pain.

"It hurts and I want Shawn." she cried.

"I know you do hon. We'll get him here soon," he promised, paging one of his nurses to go and find him.

"How bad is your pain one to ten?' he asked,  watching her closely.

"Eight " she answered.

"Okay I'm going to help ease some of that okay. " he spoke resting the I.V.tray that the previous doctor had set up next to the bed.

"Tell me what you remember? " he asked, trying to keep her talking.

"I was just crossing the street,  and a car came out of nowhere. I don't know what happend. I was coming to see Shawn." she added.

"I'm sorry Auburn. " He really did feel sorry for her,  not only as a doctor, but as a friend.  She and Shawn had barely gotten to see one another the last few weeks, and now this. 

"They didn't even stop to help me! " She cried, more tears trailing down her face. He felt so sorry for her, and sick at the thought of how Shawn might react. He just hoped Shawn was able to stay calm,  for both of their sakes.

"Small scratch." he warned, inserting the line, and getting her started on some much needed fluids and pain relief. She flinched a little,  but didn't pull away. "Okay, so I'm going to get Dave to come and  help me with a spinal exam,  and he should also be able to determine if we need x-rays for these breaks okay" he explained gently,trying not to scare her.

She looked worried at the mention of x-rays,  but he just assumed it was due to her being clastrophobic,  as she didn't say anymore on the subject.

He walked out of the room, quietly closing the door after me, and made my way to the nurses station where I found Dave helping a nurse. As an Orthopedic doctor he was often called down for consults, so it was common to find him here.

"Dave, do you mind helping me for a second mate?" he asked, before coming to stand next to him waiting as he finished his conversation.

"Yeah what is it?" he asked as Brian handed him Auburn's chart.

"Auburn?" He asked disbelief clear in his tone,  eyebrows raised in confusion. "Auburn as in Shawn's Auburn.What happend?

"

"Hit and run." he answered. Causing Dave to wince in sympathy. "They didn't even stop!"

"Has anyone gotten a hold of Shawn?" He asked, shaking his head as they made their way to the door of Auburn's room.

"Yeah, but she's quite distressed obviously,  so I'm just taking it really slowly. At least until Shawn gets here, unless something is absolutely vital," he told him. Dave nodded before opening the door, and greeting Auburn with a bright smile.

"Hi Auburn, Bri told me you got in a fight with a car?" He asked, causing her to smile faintly.

"What have we got so far?" he asked.

"Large laceration on the forehead and a fracture to the left  arm, some fractured ribs, a suspected bruised spleen and a dislocated right ankle as well as possible spinal injuries, she is also complaining of chest pain." Brian added as he hummed at the growing list of ailments.

"Auburn are you having any trouble breathing? " he asked, she nodded letting him listen to her breathing as Brian had. The room was quiet for a few moments except for the beeping of the machines as he moved the stethoscope around her chest, before stepping back with a sigh.

"Slightly muffled left side," he agreed, glancing to the monitors,  a look of concern on his face.

"It'll need to get an x-ray,  and maybe an ultrasound." Brian nodded, adding,

"I'd also like to get some CTs of the head just to be sure there is no underlying bleeding. Is it okay if we give you some oxygen?" he asked wanting to up her saturation, especially given her breathing troubles.

She made a small jerk of the head in the affirmative,  allowing him to place the mask that had lay beside her back on her face.

"Any other pain?" Dave asked lifting the blanket to assess the damage to her lower extremities, she took a few shaky breaths.

"Just my ankle."

" Okay,we just need to turn you and have a feel of your spine. Before we do, anything else, as we don't want to aggregate anything." Dave explained coming back to stand at the head of the bed. "All you need to tell me is if you feel anything sore."

She hummed in resonse,  unable to nod due to the collar.

"On three, one,two,three. " Brian spoke before rolling her and holding her steady.

"Any tenderness?" Dave asked as he made his way down her spine, gently feeling for abnormalities.

"No." she answered innnediately.

"Wiggled your toes for me?" he asked as he went to stand by the end of the bed again. She did so,  causing them both to breathe a sigh of relief.

Five minutes later and Dave l had decided that x- rays were necessary, due to the precarious nature of the fractures in her arm and ankle and that the fractured ribs did need further investigation, however that no spinal damage had been done,  meaning she could be removed from the collar and brace.

"Where's Shawn?"  She asked, again as they went about removing the neck brace. Brian was starting to wonder what was taking the nurse so long himself.

-Shawn-

I hadn't been able to focus all day, it was my first day back after being away at a two week trauma conference,and also the first time I would be able to see Auburn and the baby since she was meeting me at work. I sighed as I tried yet again to focus on the swirling numbers of the department's budget on the screen in front of me.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a knock.  "Dr. Mendes you're needed down in triage. Urgently." A nurse spoke,making me stand and follow her immediately.

-Third Person-

"He's on his way now hon, but we really should get you up to x-rays okay." Dave spoke, going to start moving the bed.

"Not not until Shawn is here," she begged, catching his hand and stopping him. Seconds later, and Shawn ran through the door, eyes wide as he took in the site of me.

"Auburn, baby,what happend?" he asked, leaning down and gently stroking her head, careful of the cut.

"They didn't stop!A car!" She cried a fresh batch of tears starting.

Shawn was pretty calm considering the situation, Auburn however was not, Brian could see from the monitor that her heart rate was spiking and he tipped his head to Shawn, indicating for him to do something.

"Try and slow your breathing honey," he encouraged softly as it spiked to about 130 when it had previously been sitting about 110. She managed to slow it a little, Shawn not saying anything,  merely cupping her face gently and kissing her head.

"Shawn, " Daves spoke,  "we really need to get her to x-ray. She has broken ribs, we need to determine how bad."

"No, no x-ray," she interrupted again.

"Sweetheart, you'll be fine,  I promise. " he spoke,  stroking her hand softly.

"It's not that." She answered, looking away.

"Then what?" Dave asked looking to Shawn.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered. "We found out two weeks ago. We wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Someone get Connor down here," Shawn ordered almost too calmly.

Dave and Brian shared a worried look, if she was pregnant,  there was a possibility that something may have effected the baby.

"Page Connor." Dave mumbled to Brian.

"I've already done it ,he's on his way." Briam tried to reassure him, hoping that he would calm a little at the fact that the best ObGyn was going to be consulting.

"No what if something's wrong? " Auburnpanicked,  catching on.

"Auburn you need the ultrasound," Shawn spoke firmly.

Her lip wobbled a little causing Shawn to soften his tone a little.  "I'm sorry babe,  I'm just worried about you. And you need the x-rays," he added.

"Auburn, you need to understand that while normally we wouldn't use x-ray, in this instance it's important,  we won't have a healthy baby,  unless it's mummy is healthy too yeah? " Dave explained gently.

  "O-okay," she agreed reluctantly.

"I think we can however forgo the CT, given that you've been alert the whole time. " Brian spoke earning a smile from her.

"But you won't be allowed to sleep for the next few hours and even once you can we'll need to wake you every hour, on the hour," Dave warned.

Just as we were about to start moving up to radiology having unhooked the bed Connor arrived.

"Sorry I came down as fast as I could," he apologised "Hi Auburn," he smiled as he came over to the side of the bed.

"So you found out you were pregnant two weeks ago?" he asked. She nodded.  "And everything has been normal so far? No bleeding?

"

"No." She answered, nervously, causing Shawn to squeeze her hand a little.

"Okay then, I'm just going to pull your gown up."  he did so before reaching for the gel. That was housed next to the portable ultrasound machine that we always kept in the triage bays. They were smaller, and less powerful, but still useful in situations like this. "This will be a little cold," he spoke before placing the gel on her stomach. The room was silent, everyone waiting with baited breath, Auburn with her eyes shut. Connor hit a button on the machine and the room was filled with a rhythmic thumping.

"What's that?" her eyes snapping open to met his.

"Congratulations Auburn, that is your baby's heart beat. Junior seems very happy,  very strong heart rate at 150 beats per minute." Connor smiled. 

" Oh my God!" she cried reaching up to hug Shawn,  before sharing a kiss.

"Judging by the size, bubby's just gone 12 weeks," Connor added, pointing out the measurements on the screen.

Everyone's faces were the same- all smiling from ear to ear.

"Do you want a copy of the scan?" Connor asked.

"Hell yeah!" Shawn agreed making Leah laugh. "This is going on the fridge."

Twenty minutes later, and we had all gone down to radiology, Shawn not having left her side. A permanent smile etched on his face.

"Just stay still for me Auburn." Dave asked,adjusting her leg to get the right image.

Once that was done, and it was determined that nothing needed surgery she was taken back up to a more private room, and Dave set about casting her.

"This will feel a little funny, but it won't hurt now." He reassured her as she became a little fidgety,  giving her some laughing gas and upping her pain meds slightly.

It was then Brian's turn to stitch up the wounds on her head, something which should have been very straight forward, but she was terrified,  having all but jumped (or gotten as far,which wasn't very) into Shawn's arms.

"It won't hurt Princess, Brian will numb you up good okay?" he spoke, sitting next to her, while Brian sat on a rolly chair by her head, Dave next to Shawn.

"Ready?"

She nodded.

"You're being so brave Princess," Shawn encouraged as she clung to his hand.

"Have you thought of any names for the baby?" Connor asked from where he sat in the corner working, having left briefly while they were at radiology and then returned, wanting to be here for support. Something which Shawn was grateful for.

...

An hour later and they were officially off shift, but  had all taken up residency in Auburn's room,  wanting to keep an eye on her, as she was a part of the family. They all sat quietly doing paper work,  as she rested, fast asleep now that we have deemed it safe.

"How are you feeling Shawn?" Brian asked, looking up to find Shawn watching her.

"I don't know, I have never felt so many emotions in one day!" he laughed, before Auburn broke the silence with a small moan.

" I'm cold," she mumbled,  "And sore," she added, visibly shivering.

"Here,  budge up." Shane spoke, helping her to move over,  before getting into the small bed again.

Connor got up to adjust the pain meds and check her vitals. However she didn't settle.  "What's wrong Poppet?" Shawn asked. Sometimes the meds could make patients a little agitated.

"I want to have a bath,  I feel gross,  and you smell different. " she grumbled,  her nose wrinkling. Shawn looked up at Connor and Brian,all laughing.

"How much of the stuff did you give her?

"

"I'm serious." she pouted, swotting Shawn's shoulder. "I don't like the smell of the scrubs. It doesn't smell like you."

"How 'bout this?" he asked bending down to reach for his bag, and grabbing a hoodie.

"Much better," she spoke,  nuzzling her head into him.

"Now I'll help give you a pat down with a cloth if you want?" he offered. You can't really have a proper bath yet cause of all the wiring and your cast."

She nodded

"Just sit up slowly okay. You might feel a little dizzy." Brian warned, standing up to help too.

  Connor went ahead to start the water for her while Dave came to help move the wiring as they supported her to hop to the bathroom. Eventually Shawn just picked her up,being extra careful of her ribs, holding her under her shoulders instead,and cradling her somewhat like an infant.

Half hour later, and Shawn had successful sponge bathed her, the rest of the group having gone back to their work while they waited.

"Get some rest Princess, you've got a little piece of art growing in there, you and Jellybean need it," he whispered as he placed her back in bed, rubbing her stomach softly.

"Love you," she whispered, already half asleep.

"Love you more," he replied kissing her head, they all shared a smile, because at that moment, all was right with the world.

[sky-scribbles]

Three times Elena Ortega knew exactly what was going on (and one time she didn’t)

m!Ortega x nb!Sidestep, ~1900 words, angsty in places with a happy ending. Tw: blood, minor canon-typical injury.

‘You know I wanted to meet your friend Sidestep. It would have been nice to meet them when they weren’t propping up my son as he bleeds all over the house.’

Ricardo makes a small noise of protest, followed by a clumsy effort to wriggle out of Sidestep’s grip. ‘I’m not bleeding. Much. I definitely don’t need propping up, you can let me go –’

He directs this last remark at Sidestep, whose face somehow manages to convey profound doubt even behind the mask. Before Elena can intervene, Ricardo disentangles himself, takes a single step forward, and promptly topples sideways.

She should be used to seeing him injured. She’s waited outside so many operating theatres, watched a decade’s worth of cuts and bruises appear and disappear from his skin. But seeing him fall still makes her insides lurch, and the relief when Sidestep grabs him hits like a punch.

‘It looks worse than it is.’ Sidestep’s voice is soft, almost husky. ‘Head wounds bleed a lot, but it isn’t deep, and he’s not concussed. But he’s in no state to take his bike back to his apartment, and he said this was the nearest safe place, so…’

Elena nods. ‘Bring him through to the living room. I’ll throw a blanket over the couch, he can bleed on that.’

She takes Ricardo’s other arm, because Sidestep can’t be more than five feet tall and they’re obviously struggling to support his weight. A minute later he’s sprawled on the couch, dead to the world, and Elena’s brushing his hair aside so that Sidestep can mop blood from his forehead.

‘You’re sure he’s not concussed?’ she says, because he blacked out so fast, too fast.

Sidestep shakes their head. ‘He’s just drained. Literally. Used up all his juice, then pulled a current from the mains circuits so he could keep fighting. Shorted out a building doing it.’

‘He pulled a current from –’ Elena stops, staring Ricardo’s bloodied face. Another thing she will never get used to: remembering what her son is capable of. Her son. Who dredged up raw electricity and unleashed it through his own body. He’s more than modified; he’s a superweapon. And yet he’s lying on her couch, passed out from exhaustion. Bleeding.

She sucks in a breath and holds it until the outrage and terror have dimmed. ‘I’ve told him not to over-exert his mods.’

Sidestep’s quiet for a moment. Then they put down the medical kit and tug off their mask, revealing a brown-skinned face dotted with moles, huge dark eyes, and a mop of lilac-dyed hair.

‘He was protecting me,’ they say, even quieter now. ‘I’m sorry this happened.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. It isn’t your fault. It was always impossible to make him go a week without getting covered in blood or bruises, even when he was a year old.’

Sidestep snorts. ‘That doesn’t surprise me.’

They have a nice smile, Elena decides. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘For getting him home.’

She’s about to offer Sidestep a food, a spare bed for the night, coffee, water, anything – but their expression stops her. They’re looking down at Ricardo’s calm (if dazed) face, their gloved hands straying towards his. Brushing dirt from his skin. Hovering over the bruises as if their touch could make them fade.

‘Any time,’ they say, finally.

And the words are a promise. Elena can see that; see in their pursed lips and the soft movement of their hands that they will carry Ricardo home no matter how many times he burns out and falls. He’s no weapon to them, he’s exactly what he is to Elena: someone who can be hurt. Who needs to be protected and held.

And, she realises with a smile, Ricardo let them protect him. He let them prop him up. He passed out into their arms like it was the easiest thing in the world, even though getting him to show vulnerability is usually as torturous as cleaning the blood from this blanket will be.

She’s never seen Ricardo do this with anyone. But Sidestep, Elena is suddenly certain, is not just anyone. Not to him.

A week after the funeral, Elena visits Ricardo’s apartment.

She helps him pick up his clothes from the floor and collect the crockery scattered across the rooms. She brushes his hair, talks him into shaving. They fold clothes and wash dishes together, silent, going through the motions until grief is no longer written over every wall of his home. Afterwards, he curls up on the couch and she tucks him under her arm like he’s a boy again, even though he’s far too big to really fit.

‘How did it go?’ she asks at last.

‘All right. It took longer for the locksmith to get us in than for us to clear the place out. Wren… didn’t own much.’ His voice cracks on their name, and Elena holds him a bit tighter. ‘Chen and I took most of it to a charity store. Aid for the homeless. I think they’d have wanted that.’

Sensing that he neither expects nor wants her to speak, Elena nods.

‘I thought there’d be family photos, or keepsakes, or something. But there was nothing.’ He’s shaking now, not bothering to hide it. ‘If there’s anyone out there who knew them… do they even know that Wren’s dead? In a few years, am I going to be the only person who knows or cares that Wren Serrano existed?’

‘I will care. And Chen, and Sentinel, and –’

Ricardo ploughs on as if she hadn’t spoken, and she hasn’t the heart to scold him. ‘It’s like they didn’t exist. There were – what, five or six people who saw their face and knew their name?  People will remember Sidestep, but Wren’s gone and it’s like they didn’t even leave a mark.’

No mark, except for this. Except for the pain that’s making him cling to his mother and forget to eat. And now Elena’s thinking about how their joint, persistent effort to make Wren eat properly, and her view of the room is suddenly blurry.

When she can speak again, she says, ‘Did you keep anything of theirs?’

Ricardo nods, and reaches out to collect a hefty hardback book from the coffee table. He hands it to her wordlessly, watches as she runs her hands over the cover. Elena turns to the title page, and smiles. The Complete Works of Shakespeare. Of course.

‘I had to keep it. It’s the only thing I have that’s got some mark from them on it.’ Ricardo leans across to flip the pages. ‘They wrote little notes in the margins. There’s one here…’

It takes him a minute to find it. There’s a speech from some heroine about how women are just as capable of love as men, and next to it, Wren has scrawled a note.

You are capable of love, no matter what they told you.

‘I don’t even know who ‘they’ are.’ Ricardo’s voice is splintering in a way it didn’t even after Hood’s death. ‘Someone made Wren feel like they had to write that note. They had to remind themselves that they could be loved. They shouldn’t have needed a reminder. I should have –’

He snaps his mouth shut, but Elena understands.

‘You never told Wren that you loved them. Did you?’

Ricardo goes still. Swallows. A few moments crawl by before he says, ‘So you knew?’

‘Of course I knew. You let them hold you up when you were hurt. Whenever they talked, you watched them like nothing was more important than what they had to say. You remembered what they liked and what they didn’t. You were always talking about what Wren would have done in such-and-such a situation. They coloured the way you saw everything. Your whole life shifted around them.’

His hands clench in his lap. ‘Yeah. It did.’

‘And you didn’t have the chance to tell them. I’m –’ The words feel so hopelessly inadequate, but they have to be said – ‘I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.’

Ricardo lets out a quiet, trembling breath. His fingers unravel and reach out, tracing the neat little words pencilled into the book.

Then he leans into Elena’s arms and howls.

‘You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?’

Ricardo pushes his knife and fork together with a lazy flick, and grins at her across the table. ‘What makes you think that? Surely I'm too old to get dates now.’

Elena takes a moment to drink in the way he’s acting. How many years has it taken for him to talk and move like this, truly relaxed and cheerful, not just acting his part to keep her from worrying? Far too many – though Elena can’t blame him for it. She knows all too well that grief takes time.

‘Don’t give me that,' she says. 'I could get a date to one of your parties if I set my mind to it. As for how I know… you’re lonely, Ricardo. You’ve lost too many friends and you’ve spent too many nights alone in front of that board in your office.’ She holds up a hand before he can protest, and though he’s too old to be shushed by his mother, he closes his mouth. ‘And now you’re less lonely. You laugh more, you’re less… heavy. Something’s changed.’

He fiddles with his discarded fork for a moment before smiling at her. ‘Do you ever not know what’s going on with me?’

‘All the time. I sometimes think you’d rather throw yourself back to the Catastrofiend than talk about yourself.’

She waits for him to deflect, to laugh it off, to flash back a grinning retort. Instead he looks away, and is quiet.

Elena waits. And waits, while he drums his fingers on the table, purses his lips, and, finally, nods.

‘I am seeing someone,' he says. 'I should have told you months back, but… I kept leaving it, and then it seemed too late to say anything, and…’ He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. ‘We did talk it over. Telling you, I mean.’

‘Who’s ‘we’?’

‘Let me surprise you. I promise, you’ll like them.’

The look of mischief in his eyes is always a danger sign, but it’s been all too rare over the past seven years, and Elena’s glad to see it.

So she agrees when Ricardo texts her, suggesting a date for his new partner to come over for dinner. Together they cook something he recommends, and if it’s a dish that Wren would have liked, Elena doesn’t remark on it. The doorbell rings, and Ricardo grins with all the brightness he had when he was twenty-nine and freshly in love. ‘That’ll be them,’ he says, and Elena opens the door, ready to meet a stranger.

Instead she meets a pair of familiar dark eyes, and a small, almost apologetic smile.

She stands, staring. Deep inside her, something heavy pulls free and lifts away.

‘Tía Elena,’ Wren says. And then, in quiet but perfect Spanish, ‘It’s good to see you.’

Elena stares only for another heartbeat.  Just long enough to be sure it’s them. Then she steps forward and hugs them.

She has a thousand questions, but they’ll wait. What’s important is that Wren’s here, and Ricardo’s smiling fit to burst, and maybe this time around he’ll tell Wren everything he never said. Maybe he already has. She thought she could at least guess at most things that happen with Ricardo – and being wrong has never been such a joy.

Elena steps back, keeping her hands on Wren’s shoulders, and blinks away tears. ‘I can’t believe this, but you’re even thinner than you were seven years ago. You haven’t been eating enough, have you?’

And she hears her son laughing.

[criminalmindskink]

Sunshine

This was a request from the lovely @lundqvistisgod , Thank you so much for this request. I honestly may have gotten carried away. I truly enjoyed your input.

As always my furry little profilers, my request remain open as does my inbox. I also always welcome constructive criticism.   

Tag List: @fussy-and-a-writer-sometimes

Enjoy my loves.

warnings: Talks of blood, threats, death, and cursing

Everything in the office is relatively calm today. The team is getting busy work done, the other agents in the room doing the same. All in all, it seems to be a calm and stable environment. At least, it seems that way before Penelope comes blasting into the room screaming mangled sentences. 

Derek is the first to take action, placing his hands on her cheeks and giving her directions on how to breathe. Hotch comes out of his office having heard all the noise and listens carefully. 

Once Penelope catches her breath she makes eye contact with JJ “JJ its Y/N, I was hacked and now there's this video on my screen. I placed it on the briefing room TV.” Her gaze shifts to Aaron before continuing, “He’s demanding to speak to you sir, I'm not sure why I just-please” she all but sobs out at the end. 

The entire BAU team rushes to the briefing room in a panic. Once everyone is in there and see the video, you could hear a paper clip drop. On the screen is Y/N, she’s tied up and covered in dirt with a gaping cut on her forehead. 

Hotch is the first one to react. He slams his fist and throws his chair across the room before speaking “Who are you and what do you want?” he all but screams. His reaction brings confusion to all the other agents faces. As far as they know, he’s only met her in passing. The only one they suspected to have this reaction is JJ, who is currently sobbing into Reid’s shoulder. 

Y/N’s head shoots up with recognition in her eyes. “A? Aaron baby calm down okay, I’ll be fine I promise” she coughs out before being slapped by a gloved hand. The action causes every agent in the room to grow more tense while their hearts break. 

“Now now agent, look at what you’ve made me do. I’d hate to hurt the lovely lady or the baby she’s carrying.” The masked man sings out while waving a knife into the camera. In the background they can see Y/N crying softly while looking at the floor, seeming broken. 

Aaron grows more confused and hesitates to respond. He knows this man could be playing a game or the love of his life could be pregnant. The only people who know about his and y/n’s relationship are the two involved and Jack. They had been seeing each other in private for two years. They had been able to keep it on the low, due to her and JJ’s relationship being less than perfect. The couple had even gotten engaged three months ago, the plan was to tell the team at a dinner in a few weeks. 

The man on the screen clicks his tongue “Oops, I spill the beans?” he pauses to place a hand on his captive’s shoulder. “You see when I was picking this little beauty up, I just so happened to see a positive test on the bathroom counter. Now, don’t get mad at the little lady she hasn’t truly had enough time to tell you just yet.” he laughs out as if a hilarious joke has been told. He claps his hands causing a sharp sound “Now, what I want you asked? Money my good sir. A rather large amount I'm afraid. You have twenty-four hours to bring me seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. What happens if you miss that deadline you might ask? Well then you are just full of good questions today Aaron boy! You miss it and your lovely fiancé and the baby die. I will make it painful, I will carve this baby out of her and skin it alive before i have some fun with her myself. Tik-tok agent, your family is on the clock.” The man backs away from the camera before using his knife to lift y/n’s chin up. 

Aaron’s throat clogs up at the sight. “Sweet heart, I'm coming for you okay? Just trust me. I love you” he chokes out with tears running down his face. 

A small yet loving smile comes to her face “I love you bear, and I do trust you. Don’t lose yourself okay?” she gasps out due to the knife cutting into her cheek. After this the screen goes dark. 

Aaron’s gaze snaps to Pen “Garcia, do what you can to track where he was broadcasting from. Try to analyze his voice if you can, I would like to see if I can recognize it. Morgan, find recently released inmates that have a background in hacking or kidnapping. Reid, just incase that fails try to find arrest or maybe killed unsubs that had family left behind. Prentiss, you and Rossi go to Y/N’s house and see if there is anything there that can be of use.” He passes out orders left and right. 

After everyone leaves to follow stated orders JJ is left in the room with him. “What was that about Hotch? Why would someone take her to get to you?” JJ all but shouts at him with her hands balled into fists. 

Aaron clears his throat and narrows his eyes at the woman. “Forgive me for my honesty, Agent Jareau, do not forget where we are. Your sister and I are engaged. We have been dating for over two years. We have been engaged for three months. While I respect you as an agent, I will not forgive the things i’ve been told from y/n. If you spent time with her or showed her that you cared about her these would be things you already knew. I love her, Jack loves her, and I would kill for that woman. When you think about it, I will kill for her in the next twenty-four hours. Now, stay out of my way. When we get her back, I suggest mending the relationship you shattered.” he states in a non sense tone before leaving the room. 

JJ falls into couch with tears streaming from her face. She knew everything Hotch had said to her was true. She had left her sister behind a long time ago. Y/N was sweet, careful, and beautiful, she felt as if all that kindness would shift her career back. She distanced herself from the one person who had only ever shown her love and support. For what? To further her career? She screams out before slinging a chair into the wall. “I’m a reflection of who I used to be. I don’t have to hurt but I have to let it heal.” she whispers out before jumping up and running to help Penelope. 

Hotch promptly leaves the building, grabbing a duffel bag on the way out. Once he gets to his car he speeds to the bank and removes the kidnappers requested amount from his savings. He knows that he will do whatever it takes to get her back. Once he’s back in his car he pulls a picture from his wallet before a memory pops up.

“Aaron! Quit it mister!” Y/N giggles out while he tickles her mercilessly. She’s clad in his t-shirt and a pair of his sweatpants. He’s much the same, pajama pants and a white t-shirt. 

“Sorry darling, not gonna happen. You asked for this when you stole my shirt!” he states in an accusing tone. 

It’s at this moment Jack comes in full blast and attempts to tackle his father. “No dad, leave her alone!” he yells out while grabbing one of his arms. The couple on the floor laughing out while play fighting on the floor. 

Y/N smiles mischievously before looking a the young boy “Jack you gotta help me take him over. You ready?” the woman asks in a playful yet ready tone. The question causes the boy to nod furiously before the two each grab an arm and work Aaron onto his back. 

Once they are both on top the tickling ceases, leaving each of them wrapped protectively in the older male’s arms. They are all laughing tiredly before the woman leans up and places kisses upon both of their cheeks. 

Jack smiles “You okay momma?” the young boy asks causing both adults to pause in surprise. It’s the first time he’s called her that. Aaron smiles proudly before turning to gaze upon the woman who had turned both his and his son’s life around for the better. 

Y/N smile is one of pure happiness “Yeah baby I'm okay, thank you for coming to my rescue.” she states while a stray tear falls from her eyes.

Aaron snaps out of his flashback to his phone ringing. He picks it up to see Garcia’s number flashing on the screen. “Garcia tell me you have something, please.” he chokes out while tears fall from his eyes. He has to find her, he can’t live his life on repeat. His heart won’t make it this time, it can’t. 

There's no playful banter or anything on the other side of the phone “Sir, I found him. The team is headed there now, the address is already on your phone. Please, just bring my sunshine back.” she cries out at the end. 

He clears his throat before responding “You know I will. Thank you Garcia, I owe you my life” he ends the call and punches the address into a GPS before speeding out of the parking lot. “I’m sorry I let you down baby, I’m on my way” he states softly to the empty vehicle. 

He makes it to the address before anyone else; without hesitation he throws the car door open and runs into the building carrying the now full duffle bag.  “I’m here, I have the money. Now come out here and show yourself.” he shouts into the seemingly empty building. 

At first his only response is silence. Suddenly there's a sharp clap from behind a side wall. “Slide the money this way, won't you? You’ve come all this way no need for mishaps now.�� a deep voice hisses from the darkness. 

Aaron’s entire being tenses a bit “I’ll slide you this bag as soon as I see her. Now give me my fiancé” he all but growls into the room. 

There's a deep sigh coming from the masked man before the rolling chair y/n is tied to slides into the room.  In response Hotch runs to her before sending the duffel bag sliding to the kidnapper. With a flash of movement y/n is untied from the chair and being hauled to the other side of the room.

The masked man unzips the bag before tensing in pure unadulterated shock. In the bag was not a single dime, only a ticking bomb. “Well, shit” is all the man can say before it goes off. The entire building shakes with the force of the blast before becoming a blazing fire. 

Aaron and Y/N are both outside on the ground behind the car he came in, just making it before the bomb went off. Aaron grabs her chin and pulls her into a long passionate kiss, he envelopes her into his body. He holds onto her as if she’s his life line. His heart beats at a pace that could put a hamster on a wheel to shame before she places her hand on his cheek. “Bear, where did you get a bomb?” the young woman asks in shock while looking into his eyes. 

He chuckles in response before shoving his head into her neck “Don’t worry about it love. Is it true? Are we having a baby?” he asks before leaning back to take her in fully. She’s a bit bruised, caked in dirt and blood, and looks exhausted. As she’s nodding excitedly while tears slip from her eyes. 

“Yes handsome, we’re having a baby.” She gasps out before smiling brightly at the devoted man in front of her. When she looks into his eyes all she sees is love, devotion, and pure happiness. 

Before he can respond the team comes into the lot tires squealing. They all jump out of their cars and run to the couple on the group. Once they get there they all wrap themselves around the two. Not a single one even questions the building that’s slowly becoming dust behind them. JJ is the first one to speak as she cries into y/n’s neck. “I’m so sorry for how I've treated you. Please, let me make it up to you” she asks with desperation coating her tone.

Y/n rears back in surprise before seeing the truth in her sister’s eyes. “I’m all about second chances honey, I love you JJ.” she states as she smiles lovingly at the woman in front of her. 

JJ smiles brightly in response before hugging y/n again. “I love you too sis.” she whispers out in both surprise and relief. 

Aaron watches the interaction carefully before smiling proudly at his fiancé. She truly was too good for this world. 

Six months later…

Aaron could not be happier than he was in this very moment. Y/n has just given birth to their baby girl. His daughter. He’s perched on one side on the woman with Jack on the other. The small boy is truly fascinated with his new sister. The past few months he’s been befuddled on why his sister was in y/n’s stomach. 

Said woman looks up to him, smiling happily before the entire team busts into the room. Their speeds all come to a stop when they see the small baby in y/n’s arms. JJ is the first to step up before Jack looks up angrily “No! Don’t touch my sister.” He growls out before standing in front of the girls in bed with a protective stance. 

Ever since his y/n was kidnapped he has been extremely dedicated to protecting her. She had since moved into the house with him and his father, causing that love and dedication to only grow. 

JJ’s face can only be described as pure surprise when she crouches down to Jack “Jack honey, it’s okay, I promise. I’m y/n’s sister. I won’t hurt either of them, scouts honor.” She replies to his seriously.

The young boys face morphs into one of sheer confusion. His eyes turn to slits as he looks around to everyone in the room. Finally he turns to y/n, who nods at the boy while chuckling. “Does that mean I can call you my Auntie?” he asks while bouncing up and down. 

Everyone in the room smiles with contented looks on their faces while JJ’s excitement matches the young boy bouncing before her. “Of course you can sweetie, I am your aunt.” She smiles brightly before the boy half way tackles her into a hug. 

He nods with a serious look on his face, “Okay, you can see Jenn!” he states happily before moving to climb back into his original spot. 

JJ stops moving before looking to the family on the bed. The couple smile at each other before y/n moves the baby to where everyone can see her face. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Jennifer Penelope Hotchner.” the mother states softly to the team. 

In response to the statement, there's a girlish yelp from the hacker in the room. “Did you?” She gasps out, gaining a nod in response. “Oh my, oh me. I have a baby named after me. Oh my freaking goshies, guys! Oh, Derek baby hold me up. I may pass out.” the eccentric woman rushes out while fanning herself. 

The team crowds around the family in the bed, all gushing over the cuteness before them. Spencer finally is able to hold the small girl. He places a thumb on her cheek before he starts to ramble about all the colleges he will get her into in the future. 

Y/n places her head onto Aaron’s chest wearing a dazed smile. He brings his hand to pat down her hair while he looks down. Jack is asleep on her chest with her arm around him protectively. He has never felt prouder than he does in this moment. He has every single person he loves unconditionally in this room. Time really does heal when the correct steps are taken. “I love you future Mrs. Hotchner” he whispers lovingly. 

Said woman looks up to her future husband, love practically spilling from her as she all but glows. “And I love you, Mr. Hotchner.” she whispers in return. 

No matter where you go, I will be by your side. Our unbreakable bonds mean we will be as one forever and face the world together.

- Aryan Arsh

[ashtheshortstack]

take my scars & make them stars - prologue

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna prologue

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Fic, Cancer Fic, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Character Death

Read on Ao3 

Next Chapter

Anna Anderson had grown up in a rather… sheltered environment, not that she’d like to admit it. When admitting to a sheltered life, it meant she was implying she was naïve, innocent, and unsure of the world. Which wasn’t true at all.

Mostly.

Being raised in her household meant she was always in Elsa’s shadow. Her elder sister was born premature, and their mother had a lot of complications during delivery. Elsa was labeled a “sickly child” by her parents and family. Anna shouldn’t have even been born as a matter of fact. Her mother, Iduna, was told Elsa would be the one and only child she could ever give birth to.

Clearly, that was wrong. Anna came into this world as a “miracle baby,” but a healthy one. Not one that her parents needed to fret over like Elsa.

Anna couldn’t even count the amount of doctor visits, hospital visits, or nights she was left alone with the housekeepers while her parents rushed Elsa out the door as she coughed wildly in her father’s arms. It was a miracle itself that Elsa survived cases of the flu, bronchitis, and even pneumonia once as much as she had.

“Can Elsa play today?” she had always asked.

Her father shook his head. “No, Anna. Elsa is sick today.”

“When will she get better?”

“I don’t know, Anna, I don’t know.”

When Elsa was seven, Agnarr and Iduna decided it would best to keep Anna away, for fear of her contaminating Elsa in any possible way. Her sister began wearing gloves on the regular. A mask over her face anytime they visited highly populated places. There were no more family vacations, no more sneaking outside to play, no more leaving the house.

Anna was ripped away from her first year of kindergarten as she and Elsa had begun homeschooling instead. Not together, of course. They weren’t allowed to be in the same room hardly, let alone do schoolwork together. Anna was removed from school because of the germs she could contract from other children. The possibility of having friends was suddenly unavailable.

Her parents were often busy with work as well. With Agnarr being the CEO of the family business, and Iduna often shoveling whatever overloaded paperwork he had, they didn’t have time to homeschool their children themselves. They had money for that. So, they hired tutors to teach their children. And for Anna… that meant she rarely saw her parents at all.

Elsa had their undivided attention. Whatever Elsa needed… at any time. No more bedtime stories for Anna… no more play time with Anna… She never wanted for anything. Anyone from the outside looking in would see that Anna had everything. Toys, games, books… but not the attention of her parents.

Not what she knew she deserved.

Anna could recall the lonely nights, curled up in her bed with a Gameboy in her hand. No one would ever pop in and tell her lights out. Sometimes, only sometimes, Anna wished she could be sick too. She wanted her mother and father to check on her. She wanted them to be concerned for her well-being like they were for Elsa’s.

She was special too, wasn’t she? They told her she was a miracle. A child her mother wasn’t even supposed to have. And at times… Anna wished she hadn’t. What was the point of existing when no one cared that you did?

And that’s when Anna found herself nose deep in romantic novels… Hoping to feel something. Anything at all.

She found herself wishing for that romantic moment of a prince coming to toss pebbles at her window. The desire for a man to come save her from this miserable life she’d been living consumed her mind. It was the one thing the prayed for, begged for… though there was no way to meet anyone when she was cooped up at home. Never allowed to leave the mansion for fear of getting her sister sick.

And no matter how tempted she was, Anna could never leave. If something were to happen to Elsa because she broke the rules, the guilt would eat her alive. It was a thought she couldn’t have sitting on her conscious. It was one her parents would never let her live down. She couldn’t imagine what they’d say if she was responsible for making their first born ill.

With that, Anna decided to continue her streak of dubious daughter. She followed the rules, played nice, stayed out of Elsa’s space.

And still sometimes wondered if Prince Charming would show up for her to let her hair down to him.

                                                         o~o~o~o

Thankfully, Elsa got better the older the sisters got. She was still a bit OCD, standoffish, and their parents continued to cater to her every whim. But at least they started to sit at the dinner table together every night. It was largely spread out. Elsa sat on the opposite end as to stay away from everyone else. But it was a start. Being able to talk to her parents again thrilled her. Getting to know Elsa again, her sister she’d been so close to before illnesses got the better of her, was so refreshing as well.

Anna had done everything she could to stay close to Elsa: slipping her drawings, toys, and cards under the door when she could. There was never a response, but she could see Elsa’s shadow take the item every time.

The car accident that took their parents from them when Anna was fifteen was completely unexpected. She wasn’t sure how they would make it through. Elsa would be next in line as CEO when she turned twenty-one, which was a lot of pressure to put on someone who had just lost her parents. Especially parents that coddled everything she did.

Gerda, one of their housekeepers, engaged in the lengthy process of becoming Anna’s legal guardian so the sisters could remain together in their home. It was a lot of paperwork. A lot of issues with the courts. But Gerda knew that Elsa couldn’t be Anna’s legal guardian as her health wasn’t up to par. Besides, it would only be three years until Anna was eighteen herself and could move away from home. She held onto that thought through it all. If she could just make it to eighteen, she could move out and find someone to be with.

The thought came to life sooner than Anna had expected. Gerda gave Anna the choice of enrolling in school and, of course, Anna took the opportunity to begin high school.

Which was just as much of a nightmare as television and books made it out to be. There were thankfully girls that were kind to her and took them under their wing. They had all warned her about Hans, but she didn’t take heed them. All she saw was that prince in her fairy tale dream she’d been waiting to come true. He was the first boy to show interest in her, so she’d be damned if she didn’t take the opportunity to fall in love.

She convinced herself Hans was her “true love” like all the stories told her. Elsa didn’t like him when she introduced him, but Anna brushed it off to Elsa really not liking anyone. She should’ve listened to her sister. Listened to everyone, in fact. Anna wanted to deny she was clueless, but she was. She had no idea what love was really like. She’d barely gotten it from her parents. She and Elsa didn’t start getting close until after their parents were gone…

                                                          o~o~o~o

 Senior Prom was the night that turned her dreams upside down. Hans whispered how “hot” she was in that dress. She was beautiful, he was lucky to have her, he wanted her on his arm to show off because he had the “prettiest girl in school” with him. He said all the right things. All the praises she needed to hear to flatter his way under her dress.

She’d let him. She wanted to get it over with, right? All of her friends weren’t virgins anymore. Anna was in high school, and she’d be in college the next year. It was normal to have sex with your boyfriend. Especially after prom. That’s what books told her. That’s what society told her.

The guilt ate at her afterwards. She wanted to enjoy it. This was her boyfriend, right? It should’ve been magical and great. Then why didn’t it feel that way? They were safe. Used protection. It wasn’t as if they were irresponsible.

But her body no longer felt like her own. He’d suddenly taken that from her. She felt dirty. Maybe, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was no good for her. Knew he was using her. Knew he didn’t love her. The rose-colored glasses seemed to shatter… but would anyone else ever want to be with her? She didn’t think so… She was just some broken girl with dead parents and hardly a home life. The fact that Hans even spared her a glance was lucky, at best. Maybe, her wish came true in some form or fashion.

Thus, she stayed. She desperately wanted someone to care. Hans had given her attention when no one else did. So what if wasn’t the “one true love” ideal relationship she’d always dreamed of? It was still someone to be with her. Someone to kiss, to hug, to cuddle… even if he was kind of a jerk.

And she’d been stupid enough to stay with him through their first two semesters of college, despite how much worse he seemed to get. He got new friends in college… if Hans had been a jerk before, he was a real dipshit after he gathered his knew college posse. Anna had no desire to be around his frat buddies. They were obnoxious at best. They were loud, drank uncontrollable amount of beers, smoked who knows what all the time.

Everything Anna had been conditioned to avoid like the plague. She wouldn’t dare tell Elsa, who had long since taken over the company and had much less time to pay attention to Anna’s relationship woes. Elsa seemed to have given up the idea that Anna would dump the pretentious boy and accepted he was a part of her younger sister’s life.

Despite how miserable he made Anna, she was just so desperate. She’d realize that eventually when she continued to stay even though she’d overheard him say to a frat buddy that he started dating Anna in high school because there would be money to inherit eventually. It broke her heart.

She still said “yes” anyway when he proposed.

                                                           o~o~o~o

 It was the diagnosis that did her in.

When the doctor informed her, she had stage two breast cancer at the ripe age of twenty-one, a rarity. Anna decided a few things in that moment: if she was going to go through this, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be with Hans, if she was going to die (though a stage two diagnosis was hardly a death sentence especially since she was so young, but just a precaution) she sure as hell wasn’t going to let Hans have her money and profit off her dying, and she took this as her wake-up call, it was time to live her life.

She marched into his home, not even to bother knocking on the door. Only to find her fiancé lip-locking with some dark skinned, bleach blonde, who was obviously trying too hard. Anna barked out a laugh when she saw them.

Hans gaped, eyes wide as he pushed the girl. “H-Honey! Can you believe this bitch!? She just came onto me!”

Anna quickly slipped the ring off her finger before waving at him. “Oh, don’t stop on my account. I’m just here to get my things because we’re through,” she stated boldly before chucking the ring at him. It smacked him in the forehead, and he yelped. “I have cancer, too, by the way,” Anna chimed as cheerily as she could. The girl on the floor just sat stunned at the whole exchange. Hans seemed to be a bit shocked at her admission as well.

“Y-You’re sick?”

“Not that you care, but no. I’m not sick, I have cancer. There’s a difference.” Sick was a word she associated with Elsa. The sickly one. That wasn’t Anna. She wouldn’t be that girl.

Hans quickly stood from the couch. “But, hun, you need someone to be there for you through this.”

She tried not to laugh at the term of endearment. Sweet talking her wasn’t going to convince her to stay, especially not after she just caught him sucking face with a sorority girl on their couch. Anna started up the stairs to get her things, glancing back at him. “Certainly not you. I have my sister.”

“Oh, please, Anna. What has Elsa ever done for you?”

The glare she shot him was deadly enough, she hoped. “Warned me about you, for one. And I’ve put up with your shit long enough, Hans Westergard.”

His feigned concerned expression quickly turned into a smirk, as if he could finally drop the act. “Please, you think your sister will take care of you? What a joke, Anna, you said yourself she couldn’t even take care of herself growing up.”

There it was. That dark tone his voice took when he was talking about her behind her back. The one he tried to hide from her, but she’d heard anyway. He was only trying to keep her because he wanted to use her. He definitely saw dollar signs knowing she was diagnosed with cancer of all things. Hans didn’t know the details, so of course, he would just think she was going to die.

She continued up the stairs to their room, and he followed after her. Anna grabbed her suitcases from the closet. Yanking her clothes from the drawers and closets, she began shoving her garments into the bags. Hans stood in the doorway. If he was going to try to block her in, he had another thing coming.

“Honestly, Anna, this is ridiculous. You need someone to take care of you.”

“Like hell it’ll be you. I’d rather be surrounded by people who love me.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorway. “Oh, if only someone did.”

Anna felt her fingers quivering. Oh, how badly she wanted to chunk something as his face. But she didn’t. Knocking him out with a snowglobe would be a poor decision. “You said you did,” she hissed. “But I’ve known for so long that it was fake. That is was all a lie. But I still stayed and hoped you would change like a complete fool.” She slammed the suitcases shut and zipped them quickly. “Not anymore, Hans.”

Walking towards him, he did as she suspected and blocked her exit. She gave him a hard stare. “I’ll have a moving truck come to pick up the furniture my sister paid for in a few days.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Her fist collided straight with his jaw. Hans stumbled backwards, falling to his ass on the carpeted floor. Rubbing his jaw, he glared up at her in surprise. Anna fled immediately. The girl was sitting on the couch awkwardly, staring at the engagement ring Hans had sat on the table.

“Good luck with him,” Anna blurted before slamming the front door behind her.

                                                         o~o~o~o

 As she drove away, the house she’d shared with Hans faded quickly in the background, she shed tears she’d kept in for so, so long. She kept her gaze on the road, driving towards the mansion, and wiped away the dampness on her cheeks.

Anna had led a sheltered life and had had many wishes growing up. She wished to have a prince to come save her from the mansion and take her away. She wished to be sick like her sister, so her parents would pay her the same attention they gave Elsa…

She realized in that moment that she shouldn’t had had such desires in the first place. Wishing on a star in real life was entirely overrated…

[creator-zee]

207

       Tiera tensed, looking up from the wood she was chopping. Someone had crossed her outer wards, three someone’s. She set the axe aside and quickly turned.

       “Rene, Nyla.” She called out, an edge to her tone. “Someone’s here. Stay inside.”

         They both nodded, before ducking inside. 

        Tiera didn’t bother grabbing any weapons she could handle three people. She flew and landed on the path in front of trio, wings press slightly to intimidate them, before they relaxed as she recognized the intruders, or at least two she recognized.

        “Zughei! What are you doing here?” She asked, pulling the other half-dragon into a hug.

        Zughei chuckled. “I was nearby. Thought I’d stop by for a visit. 

         “Risky coming into a dragon’s territory.” Tiera pointed out.

         “Half-dragon.” Zughei pointed.

         “Also don’t you live in a different country, why are you in the area?” Tier asked, as she led them up the path.

         Zughei shrugged. “Technically we don’t live anywhere. We don’t own a house, but currently our camp and our horses are a little way farther down the mountain. I didn’t want to spook you.”

         Tiera smiled. “Thanks, but go get them. I can handle a few guests for a little bit.”

          Zughei nodded.

          “I got it.” The hooded stranger that Tiera didn’t recognize said.

          “Need a hand?” The one that she did recognize, Fymeh, asked.

          The stranger shook their head. Neither Fymeh or Zughei or her pushed it anymore as she turned and headed back down the path.

         “Who are they?” Tiera asked. “They’re new.”

         “She’s our...” Zughei glanced at Fymeh.

         “Girlfriend.” Fymeh finished. 

         Tiera tilted her head to the side in confusion. 

          “But you are dating Fymeh. Fymeh came first.” Tiera pointed out.

           Zughei nodded. “Yes, and then Nix came. And now we are all dating.”

           “You didn’t get, uh, possessive?” Tiera asked, curious. Zughei was also a half-dragon. Certainly she felt the same protective urges over her mate.

          “Ohhh.” Zughei muttered, understanding Tiera’s confusion. “No, I might’ve if Nix flirted with Fymeh first, but it was me who made the first move.”

          Tiera nodded.

          “Anything new with you?” Zughei asked.

         “I, uh, actually have two, um, gu- girlfriends now.” Tiera admitted, trailing off and growing quiet, still unused to the relatively new development.

         “Wow, okay, do tell.” Zughei said, once she got over her initial conversation.

         “In due time.” Tiera promised. “Let’s get you settled first. 

        Zughei nodded as the campsite came in view.

        “Rene, Nyla.” Tiera called out. “It’s fine, they’re friends.”

        Rene and Nyla exited the house with matching expressions of confusion and shock. “You have friends?”

         Zughei snorted, and Fymeh stifled her own chuckle.

          Tiera just sighed. “Yes, I do. But they live in the other country.”

          “The other country, very specific.” Nyla commented.

          “We don’t live anywhere.” Zughei explained. “We are mercenaries. We travel with our work.”

          “You are also a half-dragon?” Nyla asked, and Rene shushed her.

          But, Zughei just smiled. “Yes I am.”

          The group turned when they heard hoof steps that signaled the arrival of Nix with their stuff.

          “Who’s- ?” Rene began asking.

          “Another friend.” Tiera reassured her.

         Nix came into view leading two horses. 

         “Only two?” Tiera asked.

        “I’m a shapeshifter.” Nix explained. “I have no use for a horse.”

           “A shapeshifter?” Rene balked. 

          Nix nodded as she tied the horse’s lead ropes to their saddles. They wouldn’t go anywhere.

          “Is that strange?” Tiera asked. She was generally unfamiliar with what was normal.

          Rene nodded. “Shapeshifters are extremely rare magical creatures.”

          Nix flinched slightly. “I’m not a creature. I’m just a witch. I was born a human.”

          “You’re a witch?” Rene asked, her shock growing.

          “Ah, right. They are rare here.” Fymeh said, remembering. “The kingdom’s here held witch hunts that led magic to be almost be extinct and the few remaining keep magic hidden or are regarded as strange outsiders.”

            “Oh.” Nix muttered.

            “They aren’t rare where you came from.” Rene asked, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

            Tiera chuckled. “How about you finish interrogating then while I get us some food?”

           “I can hunt.” Nix offered, partially out of kindness and partially because she didn’t want to answer a bunch of questions.

            Tiera glanced at her, sizing her up. It was hard since most of her body was covered, only her arms were exposed. And while they were muscled and scarred and no doubt strong they weren’t a match for Tiera’s own strength, or Zughei’s.

         “You are the guest.” Tiera said uncertainly.

          “You are letting us stay with you.” Nix argued. “Let me get dinner.”

          Tiera was still hesitant. “I’ll be faster.”

           “Not by much.” Nix said.

           “Really?” Tiera asked, surprised and unbelieving.

           “Really.” Nix confirmed. 

           “Sounds like a challenge.” Zughei piped up.

           “It's not a challenge.” Nix said.

           “If it wasn’t before, it is now.” Nyla laughed.

            “Come on there’s lots of us. And extra food never hurt anybody. You both go and make it a race.” Zughei suggested.

             Tiera glanced at Nix who glanced at Tiera. Tiera was certain she could beat the human. She was a half-dragon. Her pride wouldn’t let her back down.

         “I accept.” She said, confidently.

         Nix nodded. “Me too.”

         “Let me just grab my bow.” Tiera said and quickly went to grab it. When she returned she saw gang Nix still had only her dagger and two swords.

          “Do you need to borrow one?” She asked.

         Nix shook her head. “I’m good.”

         Zughei did her best to hide her mischievous glint. No matter how good a hunter Tiera was, she didn’t stand a chance against Nix. 

        Fymeh elbowed her, but spoke up. “It’s not a real challenge without something on the line.”

         She wouldn’t show it, and she knew Nix wouldn’t. But she was eager to see Tiera’s surprised expression after underestimating Nix. She was worried that Zughei’s inability to hide her emotions would allow Tiera to catch on though.

         Nyla immediately latched onto the idea of a wager. “Your right... uh what’s your name?”

         “Fymeh.”

         “It’s not a real challenge without a wager.” Nyla finished.

          “What do you want to bet?” Nix asked.

          Tiera considered, what did she have to bet? She glanced at the cloaked figure.

           “I win, you show me what the hood’s hiding. You take the cloak and mask off.” She challenged.

           Nix nodded, despite Fymeh and Zughei tensing. It spoke levels to her confidence that she would win that she was willing to reveal her face, but Tiera had no idea. Although, Fymeh supposed, it could be that Nix agreed because she was currently shifted into her human form. 

           “And if I win?” Nix prompted.

          “If you win....” Tiera trailed off, thinking. “I don’t know. What do you want?” She asked, drawing a blank. 

          “You’re the host. You decide.” Nix said, not wanting to suggest something that would make Tiera uncomfortable. 

        “What about-“ Rene suggested. “Tiera teaches you some dragon magic.”

        Nix stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry, but a recluse who lives on a mountain by herself may not be the best teacher for a witch.”

        Tiera shrugged. “She does have a point.”

       “I have an idea.” Nyla said.

       “What?” Tiera asked.

       “She wins, you give up something for the night or give her something for the night.” Nyla suggested.

        Nix shrugged. “Sure, I don’t really care.”

        “We can figure out the specifics later.” Zughei said, impatient. “Just go. On the count of three.”

         Nix nodded, and Tiera did the same, tensing getting ready to take off. Nix appeared relaxed from the outside, and inside she was also relaxed she wasn’t too worried.

          “Three... two... one.”

          Tiera took off, not looking behind her, and Nix shifted into a crow before flying off. She flew through the trees before seeing the tracks of a large hooded mammal. She switched forms, dropping into that of a panther, quickly picking up the animals scent and tracking it down. She found it and pounced, shifting midair, drawing her dagger and slashing the unfamiliar mammal’s throat. She shifted into a gryphon, picking up the carcass and flying back to the camp. She dropped it nearby the fire, before shifting back to her human form and landing softly on the ground. 

       The two foreign humans were looking at her with awe.

        Zughei had an uncontrollable grin on her face. “Ha ha. Tiera’s going to be so surprised. But, what did you catch?”

        “I don’t know.” Nix shrugged. “Some sort of Bison-like creature.”

         “It’s a bizeer.” Rene provided. “It’s a large solitary grazing mammal. They are notoriously hard to hunt due to their thick hide and powerful kicks. But somehow you just got up there and slashed its throat.”

         “Their meat is delicious.” Nyla added.

         Rene smiled at her hungry girlfriend. “I’ll start cooking while we wait for Tiera.”

         “I can skin it and butcher it.” Nix offered, already drawing her dagger.

         “Thanks, but I got it. It’s one thing I have learned since fleeing my kingdom.” Rene said, leaning down to skin the animal. Tugging her dagger through its thick hide. 

         Nix nodded, she could respect the girl’s wishes.

         She wiped her dagger off before sheathing it. 

          She turned to see that Fymeh was behind her. 

          “You were really fast.” She complimented. 

          Nix smiled, and blushed slightly at the compliment. “You know that Tiera didn’t really stand a chance. She was overconfident, assuming I’m just a regular human.”

          “Would you really have taken off your cloak?” Fymeh asked as she led Nix over to a log to sit on.

          Nix nodded. “I have nothing to hide, not when I have magic.”

        “What are you going to ask her for?” Zughei asked, sitting on Nix’s other side.

         “Yeah, what’re you going to ask for?” Nyla asked, piping up from across the fire.

          Nix shrugged. “I don’t need anything.”

          “You’re no fun.” Nyla complained.

          Nix shrugged. “I get that a lot.”

          Zughei laughed, and Fymeh chuckled slightly, but reached for Nix’s hand. 

          Nix accepted her gloves hand, squeezing it lightly. 

          Nix glanced up when she heard wingbeats - Tiera was back.

         Tiera landed, panting slightly and she had a slight sheen from sweat. She was holding a deer. She glanced between the bezeer that Rene was cooking and Nix sitting calmly. Her jaw dropped slightly.

          “How the hell...?” She muttered.

          Zughei didn’t even bother trying to stop her laughter. She burst out laughing and hunched over. 

          Fymeh chuckled slightly.

          “I’m a shapeshifter.” Nix explained.

          Tiera let out a long sigh as she realized her mistake. “Not just a human.”

           Nix nodded. “Nope, a witch.”

           “And a Damn good one.” Zughei said. “Fymeh and I may be clueless about magic, but Nix is insane.”

          “Shut up.” Nix mumbled, glad that her mask hid her blush. “I’m not that good.”

         “She did come back as a gryphon.” Nyla provided. 

          “A gryphon? What else can you do?” Tiera asked, curious and a bit excited.

          Nix huffed. “I’m not a jester. It’s not just a show.”

          “Come on Nix, humor them.” Zughei urged. 

          Nix sighed. “Fine. I can do any shape. But, it’s easier if I can see it, at least a picture, and if I’ve done it before it’s easier.”

          “If you hadn’t shapeshifted, would I have won?” Tiera asked, as she sat down after setting the deer aside and her bow and quiver as well. 

         Nix nodded. “Without a doubt. I wouldn’t have been able to fly. And I’m not a great shot.”

          “How did you kill it?” Tiera asked. 

          “With a dagger.” Nix answered. 

          “With. A. Dagger?” Tiera repeated slowly in disbelief.

           Nix nodded. 

          “Can we spar?” She asked suddenly.

          Nix stares at her slightly shocked, so did everyone else.

          Zughei was the first to respond. “Wow, I’m hurt. You normally spar with me when I visit.”

        “Yeah, but you didn’t used to visit with apparently an insanely skilled human. How did you manage to snag her anyways?” Tiera asked, before turning to Nix. “Why are you with these two idiots?”

         “Hey!” Zughei said offended. “We are not idiots. Fymeh is very smart. Although I may sometimes be an idiot, I have my uses.”

         Tiera laughed. “I know. Doesn’t change the fact that I want to know just how good Nix is.”

          “I don’t feel like that’s a fair fight though.” Nyla piped up. “You’re a little bigger and stronger than her.”

           “I can level the playing field.” Nix said nonchalantly. “Just loan me some clothes.”

         “Clothes?” Tiera asked.

         “My clothes don’t shapeshift.” Nix explained. 

          “You’re going to fight as a half-dragon?” Tiera asked.

          Nix nodded. “If you're concerned about a level playing-field.”

         “I want in too then.” Zughei said.

         “We’ll have to veto magic then.” Nix said. 

         “You can’t use magic?” Tiera asked over her shoulder as she went inside to grab clothes.

          Zughei shook her head. “No one ever taught me. And Nix is a horrible teacher.”

        Nix shrugged. “I was raised as a witch. I don’t know what to say.”

       Tiera reappeared with pants and a chest wrap and a pair of boots.

       “I’m just going to slip inside to change.” Nix muttered, slipping inside.

        “I do want to spare just you though.” Tiera called after her. “At some point. No shapeshifting.”

         “I can do that.” Nix called back through the woods, before reappearing. 

         Zughei gasped slightly. “Damn.”

        Nix scowled, as she set her swords by a log, before drawing them. 

         “Blue wings?” Tiera asked. 

          Nix shrugged, spreading them slightly. 

          “Aren’t you at a disadvantage still?” Tiera asked, as she grabbed a couple of swords for herself. “Since it’s not your normal body.”

          “I’ll adapt.” Nix assured her. 

          “Fine.” Tiera relented, squaring up. 

          Zughei, settles back down on a log to watch. “I’ll spar the winner.”

          “You’ll be sparring Tiera then.” Nyla said confidently. 

          Zughei just shrugged. She would let Nix’s skill speak for itself. Although she was doubtful at first, as Tiera struck first and seemed to have the advantage. Nix seemed to be doing worse than Zughei knew she was capable of. She was a bit sloppy, almost rusty. 

        Then suddenly, like a switch went off in her head. She knocked Tiera’s blades aside with unexpected force and with only one sword while bringing the other one around. Zughei realized, ad the others did as well, that Nix had just grown comfortable in this form. 

        Tiera was heavily on the defensive, and soon found that she could barely keep up with the flurry of attacks Nix sent her way. She was used to overconfident knights that weren’t this skilled. She was also used to using magic. 

        She had assumed Nix, being a witch would also be used to using magic, but she didn’t seem to be having any problems. 

        She ended up with her arms spread wide, pressing against Nix’s attacks. She certainly wasn’t used to facing someone as strong as her. 

        She huffed as Nix’s foot landed on her exposed chest. She stumbled back, and Nix quickly pressed her advantage until Tiera was backed up against the cliff. Pretty soon she found a blade at her throat. 

       She looked up and met Nix’s eyes and saw that she was panting from the effort. 

       Nix stepped back, releasing her. 

       “Who taught you to fight?” Tiera asked, impressed. 

       “A few instructors, but mainly experience. I’ve been with Fy and Zug for a year or so, but before that I was on my own.” Nix explained. 

        Zughei stepped forwards eagerly. “My turn.”

        Nix grinned. She loved sparring with Zughei. 

        Fymeh sighed glancing at Rene and Nyla. She saw that both had their eyes fixed on the sparring half-dragon and shapeshifter. 

         “Not watching?” Tiera asked, as she glanced over while getting a drink. 

         “I’m watching. I’ve just seen them spar dozens of times. and it’s not the same when Nix isn’t in her real form. It doesn’t feel like her.” Fy explained, eyes trailing over Nix’s form that wasn’t really Nix’s. 

        “Is it hard?” Tiera asked. “Dating a shapeshifter.”

         Fymeh shook her head. “No, she’s comfortable enough around us to generally stay in her true form.”

         “I’d imagine it could be quite fun.” Nyla butted into the conversation. 

         “Nyla.” Rene admonished.

         Fymeh blushed as she got what Nyla was referring to. She was grateful her face was covered. 

         “Must you be so crass?”

Tiera muttered. 

          Nyla shrugged. 

          Fymeh turned back to watching the spar. Surprised at Zughei seemed to have the advantage. She supposed Nix had already fought and they were generally pretty evenly matched. 

          She realized at about the same time as Zughei though that it had been a ploy as Nix trucked Zughei into taking a risky lunge. Nix easily spun out of the way as Zughei stumbled past her. Nix shoved Zughei down, befor punching in her back, a sword to her neck and the other pressed between her wings, against her scales. 

          Nix climbed off and let Zughei get up. Nix was enveloped with magic as she shifted back to her human form. 

         Tiera wondered idly where her clothes went, but chalked it up to magic. 

         Nix returned to the fire closely followed by Zughei and sheathed her swords before strapping them back on. 

        “You can wait for your rematch until after dinner.” Rene said, sending a pointed look at Tiera. 

        “For now.” Tiera said, as she grabbed bowls. “Story time. How’d you meet Nix and convince her to join you? Somehow I doubt she needed the help.”

        Nix sighed. “That’s actually exactly why we met and why I stayed. Someone jumped me in an alley. They managed to land a grazing blow with a poisoned dagger. I stumbled into a tavern, but then got kicked out because the owner knew me from the academy. These two saw and helped me out. To repay them I helped them out for a while, and I haven’t left.”

        “The academy?” Rene asked, as she served the stew.

         “A school for learning magic and fighting.” Nix explained. “I went as a teen, before taking to a life in the wilds as a mercenary. City life wasn’t for me.”

         Rene nodded. “City life didn’t work for me either.”

         “Your father was a dick.” Nyla cut in between bites. 

         “Some parents suck.” Fymeh agreed. 

         “So, I suppose I owe you something.” Tiera said, breaking a brief silence that had fallen.

         Nix shrugged. “I don’t need anything.”

          “Come on, a deal’s a deal. Just let me think of something.” Tiera said.

          “You already gave me clothes.” Nix said.  “Just count that.”

          “Fine.” Tiera relented.

         “How did you three get together?” Zughei asked, as Rene finished passing out food.

          “Rene came up here, half-dead asking me to kidnap her, and Nyla came and tried to rescue her.” Tiera explained.

         “Ah, yes the normal way to get together.” Zughei commented, sarcastically.

         “It’s better than an arranged marriage.” Rene said softly.

        “The normal way is not all it’s chalked up to be.” Nix added, muttering.

        Zughei and Fymeh gave her matching looks of confusion.

        “Since when did you date the normal way?” Zughei asked.

        “Nicole.” Nix said, hesitant, hating even saying the name, as if it would summon her. 

         “Oh.” Zughei muttered.

         A silence fell over the group.

         Nyla broke it. “Okay, I know this is probably overstepping bounds off whatever, but what’s it like sleeping with a shapeshifter?” She asked, with no fear. 

        Nix balked, setting her bowl down and just standing and leaving. She was not going there.

        “Nyla.” Rene and Tiera hissed, scolding. “Why?”

         Nyla shrugged. “Curiosity.”

         Zughei glared at Nyla while Fymeh’s expression was unreadable.

         “Do you know how to fight?” Zughei growled, asking Nyla.

         Nyla shook her head, startled. “No, why?”

        “Urgh.” Zughei grunted. “I don’t want to actually beat you into a pulp, but I do.”

        Nyla flinched away from the angry half-dragon.

        “It was just a question.” She defended weakly.

        “A completely inappropriate question.” Rene scolded.

        “Why don’t you go work on preparing the deer to dry?” Tiera suggested. “Before Zughei rips your head off.”

        Nyla nodded, hefting the deer up with some struggle and disappearing to a different part of the mountain.

        “Sorry.” Zughei mumbled half-heartedly. “It’s just-“

         “I get it.” Tiera reassured her. “Nyla was out of line. Will Nix be okay?”

         “Yeah.” Fymeh nodded. “We just - we don’t - she’ll be fine.”

          “We have to deal with enough people thinking I want to get laid.” Zughei explained. “Nix still isn’t used to it, having done solo work for so long.”

        “That and Nyla isn’t the first one to have that train of that.” Nix cut in, having returned seeing that Nyla was gone. “I just grow tired of it. Shapeshifting isn’t some party trick or some kink to me.”

         “What is it to you then?” Rene asked, hesitant, but curious.

          “An escape.” Nix answered, and the others got a feeling that she wouldn’t elaborate. 

[lotorrential]

Joyrides Part I

A faint unfamiliar humming sound woke him, it repeated itself in regular intervals. He opened his eyes squinting at the clock on the wall. It was an hour before the scheduled arrival time. His nightmares had interrupted his sleep more than once and he had paced around restlessly at night. Maybe if he had had company, his sleep would have been better. Feeling a warm, familiar body next to his, he brushed away the thought. His bunk was empty. Yet, he was used to it. Lotor got up and walked over to the shower cell. The water was warm, almost hot. He felt it on his athletic body, his lavender skin, the hot temperature warmed him, made him feel alive. He washed his hair, he was proud of his Altean mane which needed diligent care. He never dried his hair, the warm temperatures and dryness on the ship would dry them quickly. Lotor stepped out of the shower and put on his uniform. The communication panel on the wall was blinking. It was a voice message from Mya: "Lotor, please put on the hazmat suit, but not the helmet. The planet shows strong signs of radiation and it will destabilize your Galra technology. We need to go old school. We will depart in one hour stat. You'll find us on the bridge, over and out." Lotor checked his hazmat suit hanging in the wardrobe. He hadn't used it in ages and hoped that it had no leaks. Once he put it on he went into the hazmat cell which detected minimal leaks of oxygen and fixed the holes immediately with nanoscale adhesives. He did not like the constricting nature of the hazmat suits, it disabled his extreme flexibility while fighting. Yet, he knew that the planet they were descending to was in a worse shape than they had anticipated. Lotor was weary, but mentally ready.

When Lotor approached the hallway to the commanding bridge of Mya's ship the "Eternity" he saw her on the floor pulling things out of a cupboard on the wall. Gas masks, air filters, boots and hazmat suits were all over the place.

"What is all this?", he asked bluntly. Mya was surrounded by soldiers who seemed queasy to see their commanding officer rummage around in the storage boxes. But Mya triumphantly jumped up and beamed from one ear to the other. "I knew I still had them somewhere. These are original Russian GP5 gas masks the same model which were used in the Chernobyl exclusion zone. Look at them! Just look at them! And the smell of rubber and motor oil. Don't you just want to lick it?" Lotor looked at her aghast. Mya was the strangest woman he had ever met. She was beautiful, even by Altean standards, but she also reminded him of… Slav or Pidge or even worse his mother...No, that was not true. She was a scientist, but she was warmhearted, she cared deeply about the people she encountered and she loved life and its adventures. She was always running after some new discovery or new theory and following her led him to quite a few wild goose chases around the galaxies. No, Mya and his mother had nothing in common. He sometimes wondered what Dayak would think of her. They would probably fight in the arena first and then go out for drinks together afterwards. The thought made him chuckle inside. Mya was a unit. A single entity. She did not belong anywhere, not to anyone. She was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Lotor grabbed the gas mask Mya handed him reluctantly. Had these been used and most importantly had they ever been decontaminated?

"You need the right filters to go with it, but if you don't have any filters, you can even use an old stinky sock and it will work!" Lotor's gaze grew even more very sceptical. Mya waited for him to say anything but he remained silent. "If we go down there we need the right equipment.", he finally said with a sigh, sinking in further when he saw the overexcited expression on Mya's face: "Watch out, I have thought of everything, I have anti-radiation tablets to protect your thyroid, take one now before you go down, just to be sure! A head lamp, a mechanical machine gun model Kalashnikov from the 1990s, be careful it has an awful return and I do not want you to kill any friends, right?" This was not the date Lotor had anticipated. Where was the romance in radiation? He craved flowers, music, dinner, moonlight!

Yet Mya handed him military boots and thick gloves. "Here a set of overclothes and a pair of boots. You put the overclothes on top of your clothes. Once we leave the contaminated area, you take of the clothes carefully and we make a big bonfire to burn them and also the covers of your boots. Aren't bonfires just totally romantic?" - "Not radioactive ones…", Lotor retorted with a pouty face.

"This is not the first time you go to a contaminated area, do you?", he asked her flatly upon which she turned around, took his hand and squeezed them.

"Oh my dearest Prince, don't worry. Just remember the rules and you'll be fine: stay on the roads, never touch the dust, don't go into the shrubs, they are highly radiated. Don't touch any animal, you don't want rabies and radioactivity in your bloodstream. Do never enter a room without backup. Always go in pairs or in teams of six. Two front, two back and two centre in case of attackers. If you have internalized these rules we're good to go." - "I just want us to be safe. I want you to be safe! Are you sure this is a good idea?" Mya looked at him with an expressionless face, which turned into a sharky smile. "Don't worry. It'll be fine! We'll have a tact team with us."

Lotor calculated his options. It had been his idea of taking Mya on a date to the abandoned Fun park in the Theta quadrant, but he had not anticipated that it had been abandoned because of a nuclear catastrophe. He was even more shocked to learn that Mya just shrugged it off and wanted to go down nevertheless. He had dreamt of a romantic dinner, or at least a picknick with Champagne, strawberries, chocolate, cupcakes... But in a radioactive zone they were not supposed to eat anything except Powerbars, because any food meant possible radioactive ingestion.

Once Lotor and Mya had put on their gear they took a small landing vessel to land on top of one of the buildings next to the fun park. They were joined by four soldiers of Mya's ground team. The building was one of the old soviet style concrete buildings. Mya had equipped them both with Geiger counters to monitor radiation. She demonstrated it on the roof. The floor where rain had washed away most of the radioactive dust the radiation was minimal, the shaded walls though were highly contaminated. They left the vessel and walked across the huge roof floor in direction of the door leading below. A few mutilated corpses lay around on the ground, just bones, cartilage and shreds of fabric. Mya wanted to test their radiation, but Lotor pulled her back.

They were just preparing to open the door to enter the building when they heard noises from the street. Carefully Mya signalled that she, as the smallest of the group, would silently go to the edge to see what was making the commotion. There was a truck approaching, in it about five men in rags. Machine guns and rocket launchers were mounted on the truck. The car approached the building and pointed the rocket launcher directly in their direction. Mya gave the order to the ship to leave immediately without them, as there was no time for them to run across the roof and embark without getting a direct hit. Mya pointed at the neighbouring roof. They needed to make a leap of faith. She jumped. Her team and Lotor followed. While they jumped a rocket hit the spot where the ship had been a few moments before. Half of the roof of the other building collapsed immediately releasing big clouds of dust and debris. Lotors heart beat faster, he tried to calm his nerves and hoped that the gas masks were any good. He then signalled everyone to go into cover. They had a good view of the street from their hiding point.

The street itself was empty, glistening golden in the sunset, but far away there was a corpse on the ground. The wind was moving it, but Mya hesitated. The wind was coming from another direction. The body was moving. Slowly, but haphazardly it was trying to raise itself, although just the torso was left. Mya only pointed and signalled to be combat ready. To aim at the head. She had encountered zombies before, but depending on the cause of the zombification their symptoms showed differently. This was the moment when they heard the screams from every direction and a slow scratching noise at the door leading to the roof.

[writeyouin]

How about a v for vendetta imagine where he and the reader have their first date, maybe in the shadow gallery and he cooked something for his s/o. Maybe he could blindfold them in order to be able to enjoy dinner as well, without his s/o seeing the scars?

V X Reader - First Date

A/N – I merged a few requeststogether for this one, I hope that’s okay. @stridershunts & @otakuontheoutside for building your request into this.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You inspected the contrabandwardrobe meticulously. All the clothing inside once belonged to a museum andwas ordered to be destroyed until V liberated it. You lightly brushed over thefabrics, searching for something that would be appropriate for a date. Pickingthe outfit was supposed to be the easy part but you were already nervous,wanting to make everything perfect for the man you already knew you loved.

At times, you wondered how V managedboth you and his work. You hated living in the Shadow Gallery. Correction, youhated being left alone in the Shadow Gallery. How could you not? Being onLondon’s most wanted was bound to have psychological consequences, yet V acceptedyou as you were, doing everything he could to accommodate your social needs,even going as far to leave tapes of himself while he went away so you couldtake comfort in his voice.

Pushing all thoughts out of yourmind, you settled on an old, red and black Victorian outfit from the 1900’s andwent to your room to get changed.

Meanwhile, V inspected himself inthe mirror. He was in his usual garb, minus the weapons, the lack of which lefthim feeling somewhat naked. He didn’t know what possessed him to ask you on adate when he could never give you the life you deserved or put you above hiswork. It was a purely selfish act but for once, he didn’t care about beingselfish, if it only meant he could have you, at least for one night.

Deciding that he had hesitatedenough, he journeyed to your room, knocking lightly. You opened the door,stunning V momentarily with your outfit choice. He finally uttered a suave,“Your radiance lights up the drab halls of the Shadow Gallery.”

You smiled apprehensively,thanking him for the compliment and returning it.

“I merely look the same asalways, you however are beautiful beyond words.” He offered a gloved hand,“Shall we?”

You linked with him, “I’d lovenothing more.”

The date options were of courselimited to the Shadow Gallery, V was after all, London’s most wanted. He ledyou to the kitchen; one of your favourite rooms to spend the day reading in forits homey feel. He sat you down at the small table where a candle danced andflickered before you.

“Now I must ask you a favour,” Vsaid.

“Anything.”

“Please wear this to spareyourself from some virulent views that shouldn’t grace such eyes as vivaciousas yours,” he held out a blindfold.

You glanced at the blindfoldsadly; after living with V for as long as you had, you were no stranger to hisscars.

“V…” You breathed. “You don’thave to hide from me.”

“I know (Y/N) but those scars…they aren’t me. Tonight, I want you to be with the real me, please.”

You gave a small, consenting nod,“Okay… for you, okay.”

He tilted his head thankfully,moving behind you to tie the blindfold; he lingered, lightly grazing your neckbefore going back.

Shortly after, the sounds ofchopping filled the kitchen, as well as the smell of fresh vegetables.

You smiled, “Skilled fighter,film connoisseur, purveyor of fine arts, and now a chef. Is there anything youcan’t do?”

“A great many things, thoughthere is always time to improve, is there not?” V responded.

“Maybe.”

“What of you, do you enjoycooking?”

“I love it.”

“Hopefully one day I’ll get totry something of yours.”

Hesitantly, you got up from thechair and made your way to the counter where V was. He watched amusedly as youcrashed into the counter.

“So, what’re you cooking anyway?”You asked, propping yourself up against the counter.

“One was thinking of the simpleyet elegant vegetable stew to start, a bolognaise for the main and chocolatemousse for dessert. The meals may not complement one another but that’s whatthe chancellor’s supply train had to offer for ingredients.”

“And we didn’t even invite him todelight in this meal with us. Maybe he’d be nicer with some half decent meals.”

You reached around blindly forany available ingredient, eventually coming across a potato. V grabbed yourhand, stopping you from slicing it on a knife.

He put the knife in your handgently, “You could have asked.”

Being careful not to cut yourself,you started peeling the potato. “Where would have been the fun in that?”

It was a quick discovery thatyour new-found blindness made cooking harder than you’d imagined. V watched inawe as you butchered everything you touched, often coming close to hurtingyourself. It wasn’t long before he found that he had to intervene. V moved inplace behind you, gently placing his hands over yours; he hadn’t put his glovedback on and you could feel the ravaged flesh the fire had left in its wake.

Ignoring it, you let V guide you,enjoying the closeness of his body against yours. With him, you felt not onlysafe but comforted…loved.

“I love… this,” You finishedlamely.

He rested his head on yourshoulder, memorizing your smell and the scene unfolding around the two of you,wanting it to last forever. “I do too.”

The rest of the meal preparationfell into a comfortable silence. Neither of you wanted to cheapen or ruin themoment with words that couldn’t possibly convey how you truly felt. For now, therewas nobody to harm you, no political backlash, and no fears of the future; youboth were lost in time, protected from the outside world. While it wasn’t atraditional date, you knew you had V and he knew, for the first time, that hehad you too.

After the meal, V felt he had todo something to make u for leaving you in the dark life the Shadow Galleryforced upon you. Every mission where he left you left his heart heavy with guiltand now he knew he could trust you above all else.

“Come with me,” he linked withyou again, acting always as a true gentleman.

“Where are we going?” You askedas he took you to a secret staircase behind a tapestry of two knights jousting;it was something you passed daily but had never put much thought into.

“It’s a surprise.”

Cool air wafted your hair and thescent of London hit you all at once as you were brought to a roof somewhere youdidn’t know. It had never occurred to you to ask how V got out of the ShadowGallery; now you knew at least one of the exits and it was beautiful.

“Thank you,” You said breathlessly,tearing up at the view you’d never believed you’d see again.

V waited a few minutes for you totake in the surrounding sights and sounds before breaking the serene scene andspeaking, “(Y/N), if there’s anything I want tonight, it’s to make tonightperfect for you. Is there anything else I can do to do that for you?”

You folded your arms on thebalcony, avoiding V’s watchful gaze as you contemplated the impossible. “V…This is one of the greatest things you could’ve ever given me but…”

“But?”

“What I want… What I really,really want is to know more about you. I know you think that’s impossible sinceyou don’t even know your own past but if there’s one thing you can show me… Iwant to see you, the real you.”

“(Y/N),” V sighed.

“I know you say that isn’t thereal you, but it was at one point, please… let me see the man you were so I canknow the man you are.”

V considered your request. So far,you’d never asked for anything and now you were set on asking the impossible.If that’s what it took to win your heart, he’d do so; even if he repulsed youso much that you’d hate him after.

“Very well, only for you.”

V lifted his mask.

You swallowed thickly. It wasn’ta face, simply gashes and eyes that had seen too much hatred in the worldalready. Tenderly, you touched his cheek. V shuddered.

“I love you,” You whispered,pressing your lips where your pal had been seconds ago.

V embraced you, placing his maskback on behind your back. With his mask back in place, he had the confidence tospeak again, “I love you too.”

Like my work? Buy me a coffee and earn preview of the next fic, or commission me on the commissions page.

[iphoenixrising]

Dr!Tim Drabble: Meet and Greet

1

When the knock sounds, his vigilante boyfriends put on a whole different type of mask.

And, you know, not one over their eyes.

“It’s really okay if you don’t want to do this,” he placates easily, meaning it while he sets the table. “You two don’t have to. It’s okay, really. I mean...” he raises both hands to mimic a mask around his eyes. Secret idents and such.

Dick just gives him that killer smile, wide and white. Jason answers that shit by turning from the stove long enough to sweep him up for one last kiss right on the mouth.

“Coming!” Dick sing-songs at the knock, making his way to their door in comfortable old jeans and a ratty-looking t-shirt, and Jay turns back to the stove with a fond look.

His grin is huge and charming when he opens up for the confident Steph and tentative Layla on the other side.

“Hello! You must be Stephanie and Layla, I’ve heard so much about you…”

With care and a natural big brother aura, Dick ushers them inside, taking their coats, introducing himself. He laughs when Layla launches herself at Tim, climbing him like a tree and crooning at her favorite Uncle.

“Uncle Tim! Uncle Tim! We’re finally going to dissect frogs, I’m so excited I can hardly wait!”

“Mmhm,” unconcerned, he grips one of her calves while continuing to set the table, “don’t be too hard on it after you get him open, frogs have terrible diets, you know.”

“I know!”

Steph takes a minute to shake Dick’s hand and give him a well-meaning, “nice to meet you. Hurt my best friend, and I’ll get out the best set of sharp scalpels I own. You don’t want to mess with someone that makes a living puzzling out the weakest spots in the human body.”

Once the table is flawless, Tim and Layla face Jason, smelling the incredible dinner he’s pulling out with My Favorite Zombie oven mitts.

“Names Jay, Small Fry, nice ta meet ‘cha.”

The young girl gasps, holding on to Tim’s head with her legs dangling carelessly over his shoulders.

Jay gives her his trademark shit-eating-grin and puts one finger over his lips with a wink.

The smart kid immediately gets it (she’s grown up in Gotham, so she definitely knows). She grins back widely to show the missing tooth in her smile.

“Hi Jay!” She returns loudly, sticking out a hand, “I’m Layla. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

When Jay shakes her hand, she pointedly glances down at his knuckles and back up to his face. They might share a conspiratorial nod and Tim laughs softly as the monkey shimmies down his back and immediately squirrels her way up Jason’s to perch on his broad shoulders instead.

Steph blinks in amazement at her daughter sitting comfortably, munching on the bits Jay feeds her while Dick leads her to the table and regales her with stories of his circus days and Tim moves between helping Jason with hot rolls and coming back to the table for Dick to throw a casual arm around his waist and open his mouth for bits of dinner. Layla moves on to what she’s doing in English class, telling Jay about Bridge to Terabithia and gives him every ounce of attention when he starts quoting his favorite lines.

Tim refills Steph’s coffee and puts the bowl of corn on the table (and no, he doesn’t get red in the face when Dick gropes him discreetly without even a pause).

At some point, Layla is watching astounded as Dick walks easily on his hands and swings from the light fixtures (that were strangely reinforced some time ago, wonder when that happened, sheesh). The acrobat has Layla balanced on one foot, promising Steph he’s a professional, so it’s absolutely fine for him to do this at home.

Jay charms her with his old Gotham accent and the softness in his eyes when he leans over to press a gentle kiss on Tim’s forehead, handing over the baked ham to go on the table.

Half-way through dinner, the question inevitably comes out.

“So,” Layla looks from Dick to Jay, biting on her lower lip, “which one of you is dating Uncle Tim?”

Hiding her grin with a napkin, Steph (since she really wants to hear this answer) sits back to watch the two oldest exchange a panicked glance, wondering what the hell they’re going to tell Timmy’s niece.

“They both are,” Tim tells her easily, “I’m too much of a handful for just one of them, so they both look after me.”

This apparently makes perfect sense to the kid, who puts down her cup and gives him a grave look that is completely ruined by the milk mustache, “that’s so true, Uncle Tim, you are a handful.” She sighs over at Dick and Jay, like she absolutely sympathizes, “really, you two. Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

Dick’s eyes get huge and he bites down on his lower lip so he doesn’t bust out. Jay, however, gives no shits and unabashedly laughs out loud at Tim’s affronted expression. Steph doesn’t spit out her coffee, but it’s a close thing. She does choke for a minute or two between gurgled giggles.

“You just eat your carrots, young lady. Jay worked really hard to make sure they taste good.”

“Aw, Uncle Tim!”

“Nope. Eat your vegetables.”

He goes back to his own plate, cheeks pleasantly pink and complete exasperated (because he’s really not that bad, Layal, c’mon), pretending not to see their dopey smiles. He takes a bite of his own carrots to be a good example.

Steph, however, waits until Tim and Layla are on dish duty and she’s accepted one more cup of coffee in the living room, out of range of little ears.

“You’ll take care of him,” and it isn’t a question. “You’ll make sure no bad guys find out who he is to you. You will protect him.” The or else is right there in the open.

Jay and Dick exchange another brief eye slide and give Stephanie Brown their full attention. It only takes a breath, a second, for the two of them to change. For the masks to come over them, and for her to realize these two men are very, very dangerous people. (Not that she gives a damn because they’re going to take care of Tim, or she’s going to bide her time and pick the right moment to strike.)

“We will protect him,” Dick makes it a vow, his voice low and gravelly, his blue eyes sharp in the light.

“Good. You might be Gotham’s good guys, but there are plenty of ways to hurt you. None of which have to do with your secret identities.”

“Take it easy, Sweets,” and the Jason there a few minutes ago is a completely different man from the one sitting right across from her. “When Tim needs us, we’ll be there. Ya can take that shit ta the bank and cash it.”

Steph sips her coffee, eyes narrow on the very serious expressions, on the promise in those eyes.

Oddly enough, it really does make her feel better.

**

2

It isn’t as bad as it could have been.

Still, she feels sluggish, feels tired and broken-down.

Batgirl heaves a long sigh, her head dropping down on her upraised knees, soaking in the sounds of the city below.

She has done good things tonight, done good works. She is satisfied.

Her comfort place is here, sitting on the awning beside Stephanie Brown’s window, a place she can sit while Steph leans out and talks to her.

Sometimes she is given wonderful smelling tea and little biscuits or cookies. Sometimes the doctor scolds her for her injuries and demands she come inside to be treated. Sometimes it is enough to hear her voice and be grounded.

(And once, when Batgirl allowed, it was to come inside and strip off the night, to be held in warm arms while she shakes and weeps for the terrors she couldn’t stop.)

She is more comfortable here than she can remember being anywhere else other than the Manor.

The window beside her slides gently open, and instead of the face she is accustomed to seeing, Batgirl blinks behind the whiteouts at the young man in a scrub top, smiling gently at her.

“Hi,” he keeps his voice low and soothing, a stethoscope around his neck and the scrubs a familiar shade of purple, “I’m Tim, Steph’s best friend.”

He must see her muscles tighten, her body ready to leap.

“It’s okay. I’m a doctor, too. Steph is working a hard case and asked me to stop by to make sure you’re okay,” he interrupts her motions quickly, “I take care of Nightwing and the Red Hood when they’re...having a bad night. I’m that Tim. I promise I’m not here to hurt you. I’m a regular civilian with a penchant for hating it when cool vigilantes bleed out on my fire escape. That? Is not okay. I know, I know, not technically a fire escape, but I think I can add awnings to that description and we’re still in the clear.”

Her head tilts at him just slightly.

“So, are you hurt?” His eyes move over her clinically, assessing, “it’s been a hard night for N and Hood, but I’ve already made sure they’re good. They’re resting right now back at my place, and you are totally welcome to go see them. I ordered pizza and wings because Hood can’t live without his habanero ones, right? And N just has to have one with pineapple, which okay, I’m not really judging, but I kind of am? Just, who does that? Pineapple is for fruity drink, not pizza. But anyway, first, I want to make sure you’re okay, too. It’s important to me, you know? You do a lot for this city, for us, so it’s okay to let me take care of you, I promise.”

And she looks at those blue eyes, the seriousness of his expression, the hand he slowly holds out, giving her the option to do what she needs to do.

Her hand starts out, hesitates, hovering in the air for a second, her whiteouts go back up to those sincere eyes, the man her brothers talked about fondly.

“You take care of Gotham,” is low and full of respect, admiration, “you take a beating for people you don’t even know. It’s okay to let someone take care of you when you need it.”

It’s such an echo of Stephanie that her chest warms with it, give her the last few inches to slide her gloved hand into his palm, and let him hold on.

[tsgalexandriavirginia]

Alexandria is Open For Business

SUPPORT THE LOCAL BUSINESSES THAT MAKE ALEXANDRIA THE HOME WE LOVE; THEY NEED YOU NOW MORE THAN EVER! 

Our purpose at The Scout Guide is to promote small, locally owned businesses. Daily, we work to discover, support and share the incredible talents in our community, and as our world battles a virus and fears, we must come together to support these businesses in any way we can.  

Finally! With safety measures, we can say goodbye to being stuck at home! As Alexandria slowly begins to re-open, we would like to share all the fantastic opportunities to support local! 

RESTAURANTS: 

CEDAR KNOLL // Now offering take out from the regular menu! Additionally, they will now be offering weekly delivery or pickup of groceries: order by Wednesday at noon for Thursday pickup or delivery. 

STOMPING GROUND // They will be maintaining social distancing with a reduced staff with as minimal touch points as possible for the time being. Although their dining room will remain closed, they will continue to offer takeout and online ordering. They will continue to offer Dinner Bags to go nightly, including three courses for two, $35, and Andy’s Pizza Pop-Ups every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights. 

GRATEFUL KITCHEN // Open from 9:00 am- 4:00 pm Wednesday- Sunday. 

ECO CATERS // Order at superfd-market.com.

ASLIN BEER COMPANY // Offering local delivery to Arlington, Alexandria, Fairfax, Loudoun and Prince William Counties, Curbside Pickup, and Shipping throughout Virginia and D.C. 

RETAIL: 

529 KIDS CONSIGN // Starting June 1, they will be open for regular hours! Also, accepting summer items on consignment! 

ALEXANDRIA & COMPANY // Email inquiries@alxandcompany to set up an appointment or private consultation. All clients must wear masks while in the store Accepting jewelry repair work. 

BISHOP BOUTIQUE // Open for customers! The door will remain open to avoid touching the handle, hand sanitizer and gloves will be provided, and the dressing rooms will be closed. 

KISKADEE // Will be open Monday-Tuesday by appointment only and Wednesday- Sunday 12-5. Make your private appointment now at www.kiskadeeshop.com/appointments. You can also try on at home through the bird bag program! Shop online via their Facebook page using the “shop now” button or text Celeste at 703-606-5254. 

MINT CONDITION // Starting June 1, they will be open for regular hours! Also accepting summer items on consignment! 

MYSTIQUE // Open for appointments Tuesday- Friday from 10:30-5:30 and Saturday 10:30 - 5:00 pm. Only one customer or family allowed in-store by appointment. After each appointment, Mystique will thoroughly sanitize all display cases and jewelry. All employees will wear PPE equipment, and customers will be required to wear masks; if a customer does not arrive with a mask, Mystique will supply the customer with a mask. The store will also offer curbside drop-off and delivery. Additionally, Mystique is offering complimentary jewelry cleaning! 

SHE’S UNIQUE // Open for customers. Both clients and employees are required to wear masks! Additionally, they will be disinfecting all surfaces and equipment after every customer. 

TSALT // Schedule your private shopping appointment today! 

ARTS, CULTURES, AND INSTITUTIONS: 

AR WORKSHOP ALEXANDRIA // Check out the new online store! They are happy to deliver and ship with a virtual wave and hug!

MEG BIRAM // Her studio is always open by appointment! 

BEAUTY: 

GOOD BROWS LLC // Will be performing all serves but those that require your mask to be removed (lip, chin, and full-face waxing -- excluding eye-brows). Prior to entering the office, staff and patients will fill out a Precautionary Coronavirus Liability Release Form and will be screened for COVID-19. The staff will clean and disinfect all surfaces and high touched areas every 30 minutes, remove any non-essential items throughout the business, maintain appropriate PPE during all services. 

SALON DEZEN // Open for appointments! Temperatures will be checked upon arrival, and you will be asked questions about your health. There will be a designated entrance and exit with plexiglass separating each space. They are asking all clients to limit the personal items they bring into the salon. The salon will be disinfected each night with a fogging sanitation device and between each appointment with cleaning products. 

SALON MERAKI // Will be open from Thursday- Saturday from 9:00 am - 7:00 pm! Upon arrival, you will be asked to wait outside until someone comes to get you. Your temperature will then be checked, and anyone showing symptoms will be asked to reschedule. There will be no more than ten people in the salon at a time, and each client will be spaced out by at least 6 feet. 

SARAH AKRAM SKINCARE // Will remain closed until Phase 2. 

FITNESS: 

ASCEND CYCLE + UNDERGROUND // Continue to sign up for virtual classes! 

MIND THE MAT PILATES & YOGA // Continue to sign up for virtual classes on Mindbody under the “trainings” tab or email mtmteachertraining.com to chat one on one. 

SCULP’D // Become a member to get virtual classes today! 

XTEND BARRE OLD TOWN // Buy a $8 Single virtual class, $30 One week pass, or a $90 One month pass today! 

ZWEET SPORT // Sign up on MindBody or ClassPass to join them live today! 

TRANSPORTATION: 

PASSPORT AUTO GROUP // Open to customers! Will aslo bring the experience to you! 

MEDICAL: 

DENTAL BAR // Prior to entering the office, staff and patients will be screened for Covid-19. Masks must be worn for anyone entering the office. The office has added enhanced PPE, including protective face shields during treatment, additional protective garments for the staff. The office will also be adopting procedures recommended by The American Dental Association and the state Dental Boards to limit the creation of aerosols during treatment. Additionally, the office has an electrostatic fumigation process that will be used while deep cleaning the office at night. 

IZALIA LASER HAIR REMOVAL & REJUVENATION SPA // Now scheduling appointments through the month of June! 

HOUSE AND HOME: 

BOXWOOD // Open 11:00-6:00! 

KRISTEN JONES REAL ESTATE // The Kristen Jones Website is now live! 

NOURISH & REFINE // Local pickup is offered in Old Town at 2050 Jamieson Ave. Customers may place an order online and pick up from the front desk concierge between 8:00 am- 8:00 pm Monday- Friday and 8:00 am- 12:00 pm on Saturdays. Use promo code: TSGALX5 for $5 off any order! 

PATINA // Will be open Monday- Saturday 11:00-5:00 and Sunday 12:00-4:00 pm. Curbside pickup and delivery is also available Employees will be wearing masks, washing hands after each transaction, and disinfecting the store throughout the day. 

OTHER: 

THE SEEDLING COLLECTIVE // Will be accepting reservations through June for clients to use the Seedling Collective as a private work or studio space. Reservations will last for week-long periods at a minimum to allow for proper cleaning between reservations. Email concierge@theseedlingcollective.com to book your dates today! 

[writingandhotcocoa]

Mountain girl - 2

 Oh my god, thank you so much for all the notes!! You guys make me so happy, it was not what I was expecting...

I know you guys are all reading this for bellamy, and I’m sorry it takes longer for him to show up.  I’m just following the show, and want to make all of (Y/N)’s relationship count. So in the first chapters you will read about her and Maya, her and Jasper etc. But I can’t wait to write about him :)

Important: When I notice that no one wants me to continue this series, I will put it on a break to write other things  or maybe even stop. So if you want this series to continue, let me know!!! I love to hear your feedback, it gives me motivation ♥

Prompt: The reader grew up in Mount Weather and had never seen the ground. Her best friend is Maya, and they work together. When the 48 come into the mountain, The reader is very interested. She wanted to hear stories about the ground and become friends with the outsiders. But what she doesn’t know is that the situation will change and danger is yet to come. What does she do when all of her new friends are hunted for their bone marrow? What does she do when she meets Bellamy Blake?

Fandom: The 100

Episode(s): 2x02, 2x03, 2x04, 2x05

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Mount weather! reader (eventually)

Word count: 2980

Mountain girl masterlist

You knocked on the door and opened it. Miller was sitting on his bed, and you were holding his bag full of supplies.

“It’s time to get out of here” you smiled.

“Finally,” he said, standing up. “I’ve had enough of the puking”

“Yeah, I understand” you laughed, and gave him his bag.

You, Maya and Miller, stepped out of the elevator on level five. You already heard the sound of joy coming from the big room, and you smiled.

“Miller” a kid called who had seen you come in. Miller walked to his friends and you and Maya followed.

“Look who finally got released,” Jasper said, standing next to Clarke’s bed. You walked up to the two and greeted them with a smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Clarke said. This gave you a feeling that she was starting to be okay with the idea of being in here, and you were glad.

“Yeah, it only took, what, three surgeries?” he said and looked over at Maya. “I hear you’re fitting right in,” Clarke looked at Maya, who was looking at the ground. You stepped in, giving Miller his medicines.

“Twice a day, don’t forget. You’ll be okay in a few days, here” you said, handing him his bag.

“Thanks”

“Maya!” Jasper said, and he walked beside her.

“Are you going to have breakfast?” he asked, and she smiled. You walked in the other direction, leaving the two behind. You were just about the leave the room full of teenagers when a familiar alarm went off.

You looked over at Maya, you two needed to go the medical facility.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Clarke asked her.

“A surface patrol is back, and someone needs medical attention” she explained, “We have to go to quarantine”

When the two of you arrived, you immediately started to put on a protection suit.

“What’re we dealing with?” you asked another doctor, who was also changing.

 “They were attacked. one dead in room 2” He answered. When you heard the word ‘dead’ you held your breath. You hated death.

“The other took off his gloves and mask to treat him. he’s still in Decon. He’ll need a treatment soon”

“Who attacked them?” you heard a familiar voice say behind you. You turned around and found Clarke and Jasper standing there. Off course it was Clarke.

“What are they doing here?” The doctor asked you and Maya, but you didn’t know. Before you could answer, Clarke grabbed his key card and walked to the door.

“Wait, it’s not safe!” the doctor warned her, but she had already scanned the card and opened the door.

“It is for us,” she said, “let’s go, Jasper”

“someone’s gotta keep her out of trouble” Jasper mumbled, before going after her. You and Maya stayed behind, looking at each other.

Later that day during dinner, you and Maya sat on your usual spot together. When you looked around you saw Clarke running up to the president, and asking him something. Maya saw it too.

“I wonder what’s going around in her head,” She said.

“Yeah, me too,” you said. You usually liked everyone, but Clarke’s actions made you nervous.  Everyone in Mount Weather welcomed the 48 into their home, and some people were grateful for that like Jasper and Monty. But Clarke… You didn’t understand why she had to act so suspicious.

You looked over the president and saw that he put his plate away, leading Clarke out of the room.

“Come, we could go with them”

“You go, I’ll be here,” Maya said, looking at Jasper. You nodded and walked after Clarke and the president.

When you put on your work suit, you scanned your key card and walked into the medical facility. You walked through the halls to find doctor Tsing pushing a bed, with what looked like a body on it. You ran to her and she looked at you.

“Hello (Y/N), I didn’t know you were working today”

“I’m not, I just wanted to do some extra work” You made up, and you looked at the body shape. “Can I ask you what you are doing?”

“This is the body of this morning, I’m about to show it to the president”

“Can I come with you?”

“of course you can, follow me,” She said, and you nodded. Working with doctor Tsing had its advantages. You walked a few meters until another doctor opened a door.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Tsing said, talking to the president. You help her push the body inside.

“We had to finish the decontamination” She continued and walked to the other side of the bed next to the president. You stood beside Clarke, and send her a look.

“Thank you, doctor Tsing,” The president said.

“The man with the burns, how is he?” Clarke suddenly asked.

“He’s improving”

 “I’d like to talk to him” Clark demanded. You were about to say that she couldn’t, but Tsing spoke up before you.

“Sir, only patients are allowed in medical”

“We can arrange that,” The president said, and you opened your eyes widely. It was nice of the president to give Clarke what she wanted, but now he went a little too far. Tsing sighed and slowly removed the blanket from the body.

“Would you like to see the exit wound?” she asked Clarke when the wound was visible. She began lifting the body to its side, and you helped her.

“Sergeant Langston was forced to push the arrow out in the field” She explained, and you saw Clarke looking at the wound closely.

“Thank you (Y/N)” she said, and you smiled. You looked over at Clarke as a confused expression crossed her face.

The next day, you walked into the dining room after working with doctor Tsing again. You looked around, and you noticed it looked empty that day. You saw Monty sitting at a table, alone.

You figured it would be nice to keep him company, so you walked his way. You picked your food first, but when you walked to the table you saw that Jasper had joined him.

You walked to them slowly and overheard their conversation.

“I was hoping you were Clarke” you heard Monty say. Was Clarke gone? You hadn’t seen her since they showed her the body, but where could she be?

Then you remember that the doctor told you about her. She told you that Clarke had a mental breakdown and ripped open her stitches, but Clarke wouldn’t do that without a good reason.

You decided not to eat, but to find out what happened to Clarke. And you started right away.

You threw away your food and walked out of the room.

You scanned your keycard, opening the door to the medical facility. You had it all planned out in your head, first you checked quarantine, after that the normal compartment.

In case you bumped into someone, your excuse would be that you just wanted to check on the patients, looking if they needed help.

You reached the door that gave access to quarantine, and you put on your usual protection suit. You scanned your keycard again and walked into the hall. You looked through every window of every white room, but there was no one there.  You figured that this meant that Clarke didn’t go crazy because then she would be in there.

You put off your suit and walked to the normal compartment with patients from Mount Weather itself. You rushed to the door and scanned your keycard, but you bumped into another person. You almost fell but the person grabbed your arms. You looked up to find doctor Tsing, who was just exiting the room.

“I”m so sorry,” You said, letting go of her arms.

“It’s okay (Y/N), what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to check on the patients,” You said, trying to look determined.

“I see you are spending a lot of your free time helping around here, that’s impressive” She complimented you.

“Well,” you shrugged, “Anything to help other people”

“And that’s why I’m grateful for having you,” She said and you faked a smile.

“If you have time, I would want to show you some things I’ve been working for” She continued.

“Yeah, off course”

“But I need you to know that it is confidential, and you can’t tell any of your friends”

You wanted to find Clarke, so you tried to end the conversation. You didn’t really pay attention to her words.

“I won’t,” You said, and your hands searched for the doorknob. “I will see you later, then,” Tsing nodded and disappeared into the hallway. You closed the door behind you and sighed.

A moment later you realized that you were actually standing where you wanted to be, and you looked around.

There lay only one person, the man who survived the attack on the ground. When you got closer you noticed that he was sleeping, so you let him be. You scanned the rest of the room and saw that everything looked normal, except for one bed. The blankets weren’t lying like they had to, and it seemed like someone had laid there.

You walked over to the bed and picked up the clipboard with names of patients. You scanned all the dates until you found the right one, and you weren’t surprised when you saw the patient’s name. Clarke. Clarke was supposed to be in this bed, but you couldn’t see her.

Where could she go? There were no other doors in the room, so she must’ve sneaked out in a different way.

If you would be in her position and wanted to escape where would you look for? A door, but there wasn’t an open door. A window, but there wasn’t a window either. Wait, there was one. You walked to the other side of the room, and there on the wall was one small window. But the window wasn’t broken, and it was too small for Clarke to go through.

Was there another way to go to the room behind the wall? You looked at the wall closely and figured it out. She went through the airlock. And you knew where that led to.

You scanned your keycard again and walked inside the chamber where the blood came from. The blood your people used to clean their body of radiation wounds. The first things you saw were two bodies hung upside down, and you swallowed.

You knew your people did what they had to do to survive, but that didn’t make this okay. You always tried to ignore the fact that your people kidnapped grounders for their blood, but it truly made you sick.

What would Clarke do in here? For what you knew, she hated grounders. And you guessed that she didn’t want to be hung up as well, so why would she stay in here instead of run away?

Maybe others got here before you and captured her. You walked to the cages slowly and looked inside them. Some grounders reached for you with their hands, and you backed up a little. You put your hands on your hair, how could your people be like this?

You knew you needed to focus on finding Clarke, so you kept walking.

When you saw blonde hair in a lower cage, you bend down your knees.

“(Y/N)?”

“Clarke? What the hell are you doing here?” you said, and you opened the cage. “How did you even manage to open the cage? And why?” You asked her and helped her get out. When she stood on both of her feet you saw a grounder coming out of the cage as well. She immediately shot forward to attack you, but Clarke stopped her.

“Anya!” she said, and the grounder stopped. “(Y/N), I know her. I just wanted to set her free-”

“I understand” you interrupted her, breathing heavily.

“Why are you doing this?” Clarke asked, and you understood she talked about your people.

“I don’t know. They use this to help us recover from wounds, but-”

“But what?”

“Clarke, I do not agree with this okay. What they do is wrong, and I wish there was another way.” You said, and you saw Anya glaring at you. “I can help you guys escape”

“What about my friends?” Clarke said.

“Clarke if you want to leave, you have to go right now. Soon the other doctors will come and if they see you-”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I told you I don’t agree with this. And, no offense, everyone saw you acting suspiciously. If you stay here and tell your friends what you saw here, the president will notice. And I’m afraid that when he knows-”

“That he will use our blood,” She said. You smiled weakly at her.

“I can tell your friends that you left” She nodded. You suddenly turned around when you heard the sound of a keycard opening the door. You pushed Clarke and Anya in their cage and walked to the entrance of the room. It was doctor Tsing.

You smiled at her and she smiled back.

“I think you’ve done enough (Y/N), just go and spend time with your friends,” she said. You nodded at her and looked at Clarke for one more time, before leaving the room.

After you got out of the elevator you walked into the diner room, searching for Jasper and Monty. You saw them sitting at a table, and Maya was coming up your way. When she reached you, you grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind you.

“Hey-” she said, but you kept walking into the boy’s direction. When you reached the table you sat down, and so did Maya.

“What is it?” Monty asked you. You took a deep breath.

“I just went looking for Clarke, and I found her”

“Where is she?” Jasper asked.

“She is not here anymore,” You said, and the other three were confused. “She escaped”

“How did she escape? And why, why would she leave us behind?”

“I kind of helped her I guess. I’ll tell you later why she did it, but I need to you to act normal. The president didn’t find out yet, but if he does-”  Monty got up and left, probably upset. You saw Maya looking at Jasper, and you knew it was time to leave.

“I’m sorry,” you told him before getting up.

“We need to go after her” You heard Monty say when you walked into their room. He heard you and Maya enter and turned around. He sighed and walked to his bed.

“Where are you going?” Jasper asked.

“To the dropship, for starters”

“You’re leaving?” Maya asked him.

“Yes, we are,” He said.

 “No we’re not,” Jasper said louder.

“What would Clarke do?” Monty asked Jasper, and he stayed silent.

“You can’t, it’s too dangerous,” Maya told Jasper.

“Don’t worry, I’m a coward”

“No you’re not, you’re smart. You can’t make her come back-”

“Monty is right. she’d go after me, but why am I so scared to do the same thing?”

“I never told you the reason why she escaped” You interrupted their conversation, and all their eyes were on you. But before you could go on, you heard a sound coming from your pocket. It meant that you were needed in medical, so you sighed. You would tell them another time.

“I have to go, but please,” you said, looking into Monty’s eyes, “Please wait with leaving”

You hurried and stepped out of the room, but the second you stood in the hallway the doors to the room closed. You turned around and looked through the window.

What you saw next was burned into your memories for the rest of your life. Your best friend Maya’s skin burned because of radiation, and you heard her scream.

Jasper and Monty banged on the door and you scanned your keycard, but it didn’t work.

“Maya! MAYA!” you screamed, and tears formed in your eyes. Seconds later the elevator opened to reveal doctor Tsing with a bed, and you screamed:  “Help her!”

“temperature’s 104 and rising”

“Blood pressure, 180 over 120,” You said sighing, standing next to the heart monitor.

“Blister coverage, now 75 percent”

“Standard treatment isn’t working,” You said, your eyes dropping. You stood next to doctor Tsing in your protection suit, and Monty and Jasper were in the room too. A tear started to crawl down your cheek.

“Wait,” Jasper said, “What does that mean?Is there a nonstandard treatment?” Tsing looked at him.

“There is one thing we could try”

“What are you talking about?” You said you didn’t know what she was saying. There wasn’t another treatment. For what you knew, your best friend was gone.

“What are you waiting for?” Jasper said.

“It’s unorthodox” She started, and Monty sighed. “because you were raised in space, your circulatory system developed the ability to filter radiation out of your blood,”

“It’s just a theory, but if we were to circulate Maya’s blood through your system-”

“It could make her better” Jasper concluded.

“doctor-” you tried, but Monty interrupted you.

“What happens to him?” he asked, and you looked at Tsing.

“I’m not sure” She brought out, and you looked at Jasper.

“I know that look” Monty said when he saw Jasper’s face. “Don’t even think about it, it’s too dangerous”

“I’m in”

[raendown]

Second Try, Second Course

I finally got around to writing a sequel for Dinner Date! If you’re out there anon who requested this, I hope you enjoy! This is also available on AO3.

Pairing: KakaSaku Summary: Sakura is determined to make it a date this time.

Sakura was absolutely thrilled when Kakashi asked her two weeks later if she wanted to come over for a cooking lesson. He had avoided her for the first three days after the evening she made him dinner, during which she was absolutely sure he had mistaken their evening as a date. It was adorable that he was embarrassed by it. She’d never seen Kakashi embarrassed by anything before and the memory of his face turning so red still brought a smile to her face.

It was amazing that he would ever see her as a romantic partner. Sure she’d had her fair share of fantasies of him; who wouldn’t? He was the uncontested Hotness Champ of the village, not to mention smart, skilled, and an entire long list of other pleasing adjectives that made him fantasy material for single women everywhere. She had never let it go beyond some light dreaming, imagining calloused pale hands on her when it was dark and she was alone. No one ever had to know. Now, however, she was intrigued by the potential for them to become more. More than friends, more than comrades. She was so beyond flattered that he saw the potential for more.

Kakashi had only given her one day’s notice, casually asking if she wanted to drop by the next night so he could teach her to cook like he’d promised. Sakura had cancelled her plans for the evening and barricaded herself in her home to scheme. She had already accidentally send him scrambling away once. Obviously he was in the mindset that this time was Not A Date. So how should she go about showing him that it was? Every magazine that Ino had ever left lying around her place was hauled out from whichever forgotten corner she had shoved them in and she spent the night flipping through them for advice.

By the time he was letting her in to his apartment the next night she felt confident and ready to employ the handful of tips she had picked out. She had dressed for battle in a cute sundress that fell just to her knees and left both her arms bare. Kakashi was wearing his normal uniform minus the vest, dressed down as much as he ever was. When he saw her his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Maa, Sakura-chan, what if you spill something on yourself?” he asked. “It would be a shame to ruin such a pretty dress.” She preened internally that he noticed her dress, then psyched herself up for her first big move.

“That’s alright Kakashi, I’m sure you’ll give me something to wear, right?” She made sure to add a sultry lilt to her voice, happy that the first idea had already gone off without a hitch. Surely Kakashi would be picturing her in his own clothes now and what man could resist such an image?

She was not at all prepared for the horrible cloth monstrosity that was suddenly shoved down over her head, knocking her ponytail slightly askew.

“Of course!” Kakashi chirped. “Lucky I have this! It was a present from Gai but I don’t mind if you borrow it.”

She looked down at herself and cringed at the brilliant green apron which concealed her from neck to knees, entirely covering her dress while proclaiming ‘Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’ in thick black letters. Apparently he wasn’t quite on the same mental track as she was yet. That was alright, she decided. She had other plans to put in motion. Losing one battle didn’t mean she had lost the war.

Sakura tied the hideous apron around her waist as she followed Kakashi in to the kitchen, eyeing the tools and ingredients laid out around the room. There was a small shelf above the sink which held a few cookbooks but they were all covered in a thick layer of dust. It seemed he cooked mostly from memory.

“I wanted to start with something simple but I also thought it should be your choice,” Kakashi was saying. He pulled one of the cookbooks down and shook the dust off before handing it to her. Sakura made sure to brush their fingers together when she took it. He didn’t so much as twitch and she wondered if he had even felt it through his gloves. It took effort not to pout as she flipped through the pages, wondering what she felt like cooking – and later, eating. After the incredibly flustered reaction he’d had last time she’d thought this would be a lot easier. Perhaps she was being too subtle.

Determined to step up her game, Sakura picked one at random that she knew would involve at least a little mess. She could work with messy. While they chatted and picked out what spices to use Sakura made sure to stand close, to smile and touch Kakashi’s arm when he spoke. He gave her a funny look and cracked a joke about how he’d never realized how small his kitchen was until now. After a while she started to wonder if he was being deliberately obtuse; she was throwing out as many signals as she could, why wasn’t he picking up on any of them?

While sprinkling a container of seasoning in to the pot on the stove Sakura made sure to shake it a little too hard. It fanned out across the counter and stove top, making a colorful pattern on the plain white surfaces. While Kakashi laughter at her and fetched a cloth she dragged a finger through the mess. Just as he turned back she slipped the finger in to her mouth, suckling on it with an expression of exaggerated enjoyment while making sure not to look directly at him. She threw in a low hum for the coup de grace, making it as sensual as possible while still staying situationally innocent. She looked up with wide eyes when Kakashi cleared his throat.

“You know, you’ll have to wash your hands again now,” he said. “That’s not really hygienic when you’re cooking.”

He turned away only half a second before her jaw dropped, flabbergasted. How could he have no reaction? Disgruntled, Sakura picked her jaw up and narrowed her eyes at him. Alright. If he wanted to play it that way then it was time for the finishing move. This was going to be date, whether he knew that or not! At this point it had become a matter of pride.

Sakura huffed quietly while she grabbed the vegetables and yanked them over towards her. Kakashi puttered around stirring what was already on the stove while telling her the best way to cut each vegetable for maximum flavor. She waited until she felt eyes on her to begin purposefully chopping them unevenly, each slice a different size and creating wonky shapes. Kakashi watched her silently for a moment before speaking up.

“Ah, there’s a kind of trick to it if you want them to all come out equal.” He used his hands to demonstrate the proper rocking motion the knife should make against the cutting board, instructing her to use her other hand to move the vegetable along instead of moving the knife. Sakura made a show of trying to do it but failing hilariously.

“Ugh it’s not working Kakashi,” she grumbled, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “Can you just show me with my hands? You know, like how you correct my grip in training?”

Kakashi blinked at her and seemed to pause, the first reaction he had given that indicated any success in her endeavors. He put down the ladle he was holding with hesitance on his features.

“I could…try,” he said. He came over to stand beside her and attempted to reach across in front of her to take hold of her grip and demonstrate the motion.

“Kakashi I can’t see if you do it like that.”

“Oh.” He drew his hands back and looked even more reluctant. “Um, well, the only other way to do it would be to put my arms, uh, around you.” Was that a bit of pink she detected above his mask?

“Of course.”

She pitched her tone to be inviting but not suggestive, luring her unsuspecting fly in to the honey trap. Kakashi took a steadying breath before shuffling around to stand directly behind her, carefully leaving a few inches of separation between their bodies. Then he brought both arms around her and took each of her hands in one of his own. His pale hands nearly engulfed her smaller ones and she found she could suddenly think of nothing but holding his hand as they walked down the street. His grip would always be sure and strong and she thought she would never want him to let go.

Kakashi spoke lowly in her ear as he moved their limbs together in the appropriate rocking motion, making clean even slices of celery at the same time he was making her smile. When she thought she had waited long enough, sure he was about to pull back any moment, she made her move. With a soft, happy little sigh Sakura let her body sink backwards in to his, cocooning herself in his warm hold and feeling the way all of his muscles went instantly stiff. His hands stopped guiding hers and the two of them hung in perfect stillness for a short time.

“Sakura?” His voice was so low it was almost a whisper but she could still hear the slight shaking. She hummed in answer. “What are you doing?”

Her eyes opened and she stared unseeingly at the wall across from her as a thought occurred. She had planned to make him realize this was a date by flirting as much as possible. She had not, however, planned for what to do afterwards. What was she doing? What was her endgame here? Her mind raced even as she answered calmly.

“Stealing a hug. Isn’t that what people do on first dates? Hug? Unless you’d rather skip straight to the kissing.”

If possible, the man at her back stiffened even more. His hands clenched around her reflexively before he leapt entirely away from her as if stung. Sakura turned to see him all the way across the kitchen, staring at her with wide eyes.

“D-date? First – what? You – date!?” She was then blessed for the second time with the image of Kakashi’s full faced blush, the red nearly brighter than their dinner a couple weeks ago. It was wonderfully endearing, the way he brought his hands up in front of himself protectively. Looking at him, Sakura made up her mind. First date or no, she knew exactly how she wanted this night to end.

“Kakashi,” she began firmly, closing the space between them again with slow footsteps. “I like you. I want this to be a date. I want to go on other dates. I want…you.”

He watched her coming towards him with a number of emotions vying for prominence on his face. His blush was slowly receding, cooled down to a light red streak across the bridge of his nose by the time they stood face to face. She could see his throat moving as he swallowed, then he pushed himself away from the wall, closer to her. He lifted one arm to ghost his fingertips along her jaw.

“Are you sure?” he asked. She was glad when he didn’t immediately go off on a rant about all the reasons that they might not work because that wasn’t the point in any relationship. The point was that they might work. That was what made the trying worth it.

“When have I ever been unsure of what I wanted?” she replied. He nodded absently.

“Fair enough.” And just like that he conceded. Sakura was amazed. Although, she realized, he had agreed when he had thought she was the one asking him to dinner. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised that it was easy to convince him now.

“Kiss me,” she breathed.

The fingertips on her jaw became a palm cupping her cheek, a gentle caress sliding across her skin before guiding her face upwards. Her eyes fell closed and her lips parted ever so slightly, preparing for a moment she had only ever let herself think of in an abstract never-gonna-happen way.

Her eyes popped back open when she felt material covered lips press against her forehead instead of her mouth. Her gaze looked up to see that Kakashi had indeed just kissed her directly on the small diamond shaped seal she had first developed during the Fourth Shinobi War. When he pulled back she raised her eyebrows as if to ask him ‘really?’. He chuckled.

“I’ve always wanted to,” he confessed. Warmth burst in her stomach like tiny fireworks.

Grinning now at how absolutely sappy that was, Sakura took a fistful of Kakashi’s shirt collar and pulled him down, kissing him as well as she knew how. She waged war against his mouth, taking no prisoners in a battle for a heart she hadn’t even known she wanted for her own until two weeks ago. Kakashi gave as good as he got, kissing her so fiercely she barely realized that his mask was still on; he was just that good.

A large hand had only just swept past her hip, tracing around her waist and heading for some very interesting territory, when suddenly a screeching wail sent them both leaping three feet in the air, landing in defensive crouches with weapons drawn. Her heart was so loud in her ears from first the kiss and then the fright that it took a second to realize she was hearing the fire alarm go off. The pot still on the stove was belching a thick stream of black smoke while the contents bubbled in to a dark sludge.

They looked at each other, then Kakashi threw his head back and laughed so hard she feared he might herniate something. It fell to her to turn the stove off and pull the pots off the active burners before going over to open a window. The alarm continued to scream until she climbed up on the counter and poked it with one chakra-charged finger, crushing the center of the device and killing the noise. When she climbed down she went back to Kakashi, still chuckling and wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. It was the happiest she had even seen him and it didn’t fade when he reached out with both hands to pull her back in to his embrace.

“Maa, wasn’t I supposed to be teaching you something?” he asked as their faces drew close again. “Something like how to cook?” He tugged at the horrible apron still tied around her waist.

“Why don’t you teach me how to cook breakfast instead?” Sakura proposed. Kakashi raised one of his eyebrows.

“In case you missed seeing the clock, it’s still night time.”

Sakura leaned in and spoke softly against his lips, her voice a sensual purr. “Then I suppose I’ll have to stay until morning.”

Kakashi didn’t seem to find anything wrong with her suggestion. He did, however, have a hard time concentrating long enough to direct her to his bedroom.