#start in september. I’M the one who gets thrown in the deep end on day one because she had no time to prepare

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic September 9 - prompt 9: Owl [word count 631]

Sirius had woken up early that day, so early he had heard James get up from his bed and quietly walk out of their dorm. He hadn’t slept well, which wasn’t surprising, but at least he hadn’t had nightmares this time, and that was depressingly rare. Still, he didn’t manage to fall back asleep so he ended up padding across the room to Remus’s bed. Taking a deep breath, he slightly pulled aside the curtain. Burrowed under the covers as always, Remus opened an eye.

“Sirius?” he yawned.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius couldn’t help but saying.

That had been a bad idea. They had all become fast friends since their ride to Hogwarts a couple of months before, but that only meant he should preserve that friendship, not be his usual annoying self that could so easily alienate them, the same exact way he had alienated his own mother by just being himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

He made to let the curtain go, but Remus pushed himself up and gently took his hand in his.

“Worried about turning twelve today?” he smiled.

Sirius could just nod. As always, Remus had guessed what jumbled thoughts were running through his brain. His first birthday since starting Hogwarts, his first birthday away from home, away from Regulus. His first birthday since his parents had labeled him a disgrace to the family name.

“Come in,” Remus said.

Sirius obeyed, burying himself under the blankets by Remus’s side.

“I just want to forget what day it is,” he confessed. “I’ll just imagine it’s not my birthday, it’s a useless day anyway.”

“It’s not,” Remus hugged him tightly. “I for one am really glad you were born. And so are James and Peter.”

Sirius didn’t answer. He just buried his head in the other boy’s shoulder and let himself be held until he fell asleep again.

When he woke up, Remus wasn’t by his side. Sirius blinked a couple of times then sat up, his eyes landing on a tray with freshly baked chocolate muffins and a steaming pot of tea at the foot of the bed, sat right by a cage from where a barn owl was looking at him curiously.

“And who are you?” Sirius asked.

“He’s up boys,” Peter’s voice said from behind the bed curtains.

A second later, the curtains had been thrown back and James, Peter and Remus had launched themselves at Sirius.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIRI!!!” they chorused, almost knocking him out while the owl hooted in protest.

“Here, have a birthday muffin,” Remus said, shoving one in his hands while he took two for himself.

“Thank you,” Sirius said, looking at his friends then back at the cage. “What’s with the owl?”

“It’s your birthday present,” James beamed. “From all of us. You know, since your parents don’t allow you to use the family one anymore and you’re always having to use one of the school owls to write your brother back home.”

“You… You got me my own owl?” Sirius stared at James.

“James’s parents chose him, James went to the owlery this morning to collect him,” Peter smiled.

“But it was Remus’s idea,” James added. “The whole thing.”

“I…” Sirius swallowed, feeling tears prickling his eyes, but for once they weren’t the bad kind of tears. “Thank you.”

“How are you going to call him?” Peter asked, pouring the tea in the four mugs piled on the tray.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Sirius smiled, opening the cage and offering a piece of muffin to the owl, who took it and pecked him affectionately on the finger. “His name is Gryffin.”

He cautiously petted the owl’s head, all the bad feelings of when he had first woken up that morning gone. Maybe turning twelve wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[fingertipsmp3]

Gotta love how staff induction is in a week or less and I still haven’t heard if I’m supposed to be there or not 🙃

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 3

Pairing: Eventual Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Clumsy injury, more stupid fighting Length: 2.5k Notes: If these two dummies could have one (1) adult conversation they’d be in bed together by now. Instead, we get this! *waves around vaguely*

PART ONE, TWO

Money was tight. You had been trying to ignore the dwindling stack of cash, telling yourself that you didn’t actually need to fix the cracked drywall, replace the old oven, or fill in the missing patches of shingles. 

That ignorance had finally come to bite you in the butt. You were rudely woken at three a.m. to the clap of thunder and the pat-pat-pat of rain hitting the house. You loved storms, the excitement of the lighting, and how fresh the air smelled once the rain had passed. 

You rolled over onto your back so you could watch the lightning flashing between the cracks of your curtains. A tap on your forehead quickly destroyed the excitement you were feeling. The wet ‘splat’ was quickly followed by another, and another, and before you were able to scramble up and search for the closest thing resembling a bucket, it had turned into a steady stream.

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

The next morning, the sun rose and shed its light upon a beautiful scene. The leaves, now free from dust, were beginning to turn, the grass glimmered with raindrops, and the sky was clear. You, on the other hand, were a verifiable disaster. 

Hair unkempt, heavy bags under your eyes, and wearing the first items of clothing you could find in your scramble last night. Your exhaustion was so complete, it hadn’t even dawned on you to change or freshen up a bit before going out into the public eye. All you could focus on was getting to Hank’s Hardware and buying all the shingles you could get your hands on.

Once again, however, you were harshly reminded of your dwindling savings and just how expensive fixing up a house could be. The owner, Allan if you remembered correctly, had shown you the right size and style for your home’s roof and you nearly choked at the price.

“You know,” he had said gently, “we do have the option of a payment plan. I don’t let just anyone use it either. It’s for trusted customers. I have a good gut on who I can trust.”

“Really?” You asked, feeling a little pathetic while also knowing now was not the time to let pride ruin such a good thing. “And, um, what does your gut tell you about me?”

“Welllll,” he smiled, hooking his thumbs into his suspenders and leaning back a little to size you up. “You’re hard-working, feel like you have something to prove, won’t back down from a challenge, and are in way over your head with that damn old house.”

“Oh.”

“No offense, ma’am! Sometimes I forget myself and talk to strangers the same way I’d talk to my friends.” He patted your forearm gently then hooked it back into his suspenders, pretending he didn’t notice you jumping at the physical contact. “But it’s true. No denying you won’t be able to shingle all by yourself. I’d offer, but I’m in no shape to be climbing up roofs.”

“That’s very sweet of you, truly. But I’ll manage! I doubt I could afford a handyman, so it’ll be me and my stubborn self scrambling around up there.” You joked, but it fell a little flat since the both of you knew it was the truth.

“I’ve got an idea...” Hank trailed off, his gaze searching around by the till. “Maybe you two can help each other out?” He fiddled at the computer for a minute, then grabbed a flyer from the corkboard mounted behind the counter before handing you two pieces of paper. One was a receipt of what you owed him after this latest excursion and a detailed timeline of when small payments could be made. 

Glancing up at him, you gave him a watery smile and thanked him for being so kind. Allan waved you off and pointed to the second paper.

‘Help Wanted’ it read, ‘Morales Acres. Light physical labour, quiet environment, rate of pay dependent on quality of work.’

“So friendly and welcoming,” you murmured, sarcastically, under your breath. Not quietly enough though because Allan snorted out a laugh and agreed that the ad was worded very abruptly. However, he vetted for the owner of the farm and suggested you head over to see if he would be willing to trade labour for labour.

Or at the very least, you thought, pay you so you can afford a roofer.

Following the directions Allan had provided for you, you quickly found Morales Acres. Surprisingly, it was a very short distance from your own home, making you wonder if the owner had been one of the people to drop by during your first weeks here.

The driveway was a beautiful, winding drive. The view of the farm was obscured by thickets of trees on either side of the road but you managed to catch glimpses of a pond and a few bales of hay before rounding a bend and driving into the yard.

A small gasp left your lips at the sight. It was picturesque! Something out of a travel magazine, or on every city girl’s Pinterest board. The driveway came to an end in front of a statuesque barn painted in the classic red and white, stone walls cordoned off certain areas that, from where you sat, looked like they could be used to house sheep or hens. A few small sheds were lined up along the other edge of the yard but the main attraction was the neatly lined rows of apple trees all heavy with fruit.

Climbing out of the cab, you slowly made your way into the yard with your mouth hanging open dumbly. It was just so peaceful here and it was obvious that the owner cared deeply for the property. You were enchanted and fell immediately in love.

“You must be the help Allan called to say he was sending over,” a warm voice rang out.

Looking around for the source your gaze widened, then immediately hardened, when you caught sight of who was talking to you.

“You!”

“You?!”

To say it had been a smooth business agreement would be a total lie. You and Market Asshole, Frankie you reminded yourself to call him, had bickered back and forth for the better part of an hour before shaking hands. Surprisingly, you had both argued more for the other person’s benefit, something you had been mulling over since.

If this guy was such an ass, why was he also acting like his help with your renovations wouldn’t be worth as much as you picking apples? You knew your presence disturbed his peace, and that you weren’t as strong as he might have hoped his helper would be, and he still hadn’t trusted you with all the workings of his orchard. 

So, while you weren’t going to argue anymore, you knew you were getting the better end of the deal: you help him gather his harvest and get it safely stored in the barn, then he spends the same amount of hours helping you. While the weather during September was prone to drizzle, you had convinced him that a tarp thrown over the baldest patches of roof would be fine and that the apples couldn’t wait. 

He had grumpily conceded your point but had sworn that as soon as the last of the fruit was picked he’d be over to do a proper job of it. So continued the uneasy truce between the two of you for the past four weeks. The first week was the hardest as your hands, unaccustomed to work, blistered, and your muscles ached from sudden use. You had initially tried to pass the time by making conversation but you got the hint and stayed quiet once Frankie started choosing trees farther and farther from yours.

Slowly, however, the blisters healed and gave way to callouses. Your muscles became accustomed to the work and you were able to carry twice the amount as you had started off with. Your home could now boast electricity and running water everywhere it should be, and the pile of discarded furniture had been reduced to ash by a spectacular bonfire which Jacquie and her family had joined you in admiring.

Today started off as a normal day. You showed up for harvesting at the break of dawn, having discovered you much preferred the cool morning air over being up on a ladder with the midday sun beating down on you. The trees were obscured by a low fog that had yet to burn up, but you knew what section you needed to start on. 

Enjoying the way the fog enveloped you, making you feel like you were in a magical world, you began to hum and your steps took on a dreamy dance-like quality. You had never taken lessons or had even been allowed to make such a spectacle of yourself while living with Brad but now you felt free enough to spin, twirl, and glide. Overcome with the joy your freedom gave you, you began to belt out “These Are a Few of my Favourite Things”, The Sound of Music having been played on repeat when you were a child. 

Once you reached the ladder, you hoisted the basket onto your back and continued to sing whatever songs you could remember while you worked. A particularly boisterous rendition of “Do Re Mi” had you flinging your arm out wide and leaning back on the ladder for a dramatic finish.

The apples threw you off balance. 

With a screech, you fell backward, managing to twist yourself around to land awkwardly on your hands and knees instead of on the basket of apples strapped to your back. You seemed to have come away unscathed, with just scratched knees and a throbbing in one wrist. Thankfully it wasn’t your dominant hand.

“Whoa!” Frankie called out, catching sight of you on the ground with the ladder tipped on its side, “Everything okay? Are you okay?”

Coming to a skidding stop next to you, he grasped the basket and slipped it off your back with ease. 

You took a few deep breaths and nodded. “Fine! Fine, just bruised knees and ego...” you assured him.

“What were you thinking?!” He tore into you, “You could have broken your neck! Or ruined a whole barrel of apples! Then what would I do?! This job doesn’t come with health insurance for Christ's sakes!” Running his hands through his curly, brown hair he let out a huff of air and walked over to where your ladder lay on the ground.

“Un-be-fucking-lievable!” You called out, incredulously. While trying to get to your feet, to march over and wag your finger in his face, you put too much pressure on your injured wrist that caused pain to scream down your arm.

You managed to mask the cry of pain as a cry of frustration and got to your feet. Surreptitiously cradling your hand against your chest, you grabbed another basket and walked past Frankie to start climbing the ladder again. Looking at the ground so he wouldn’t see the tears of pain in your eyes, you mumbled, “I’ll be more careful, alright? I’m sorry.”

Stopping your ascent with a hand on your arm he stuttered out what might have been the beginning of an apology but he couldn’t quite seem to put the right words together so he just cleared his throat.

“Just...” he said in a much softer tone, “just be more careful. Okay? I can’t lose my best worker.” 

The lame joke made you smile despite yourself. 

“Employee of the month,” you replied in a dry tone, “hurrah.” 

You shared wry smiles while a silent apology passed between the two of you. His dark brown eyes held a warmth to them you had never noticed before. Their hue reminding you of every tree in the orchard from the early light to the sunset, golden flecks reminiscent of the sun. His face, weathered from so much time spent outdoors, was marked with laugh lines, worry lines, and a small scar gracing his left cheek. 

Your eyes wandered past the scar to note how long his scruffy facial hair had grown and how it had started to obscure those pleasantly pouty lips. 

Then, with a start, you realized you were staring at this infuriating man’s lips like a hormonal teenager. With an embarrassed squeak, you quickly scurried up the ladder, hooking your elbow around each rung to avoid any more pressure on your wrist.

To say Frankie was coping well with having someone around would be a gross overstatement. 

It’s not that he didn’t like the company or wanted to be alone. The problem was that he was starting to like her company too much, to care too much. And caring too much had been the root cause of all Frankie’s sorrows.

First, there had been his Dad, trying to impress the man who never even wanted kids. Then the force, always feeling like he needed to prove himself and desperate for praise. After that was his wife, ex-wife, and trying to be someone he wasn’t so she would stay interested and in love. The pressure created by caring about these people and the expectations they had for him drove him to abuse drugs. Then his friends came calling and Frankie went against his gut because they had cared so deeply about something and he had cared deeply for them.

His wife, his kid, his family, his job, his friends. He had cared more than they did and he had come away worse off. At least now he was clean and sober, and was very aware of the irony of him now making and selling an alcoholic drink.

No, it was best to stay alone. He loved too freely and put too much stock in being loved back and every. single. time. it hurt him.

So, he closed himself off from you. Initially, he didn’t think it was going to be an issue, especially considering how you two had met. But then he found himself smiling at your stories, idly leaning against a branch so he could watch your graceful moments. He hated watching you leave, knowing you were going home to that piece of shit house that he should really be fixing up for you.

He recognized the signs and nipped them in the bud; working farther away, replying to questions with the fewest possible words, focusing purely on work, and maintaining a professional relationship. It pained him to push you away but deep down he knew it was best for the both of you.

Which brings him back to this moment.

Frankie was too stunned to notice your awkward climb up the ladder. Standing there, dumbly, for another few seconds. Wondering, all the way back to the idling tractor, what the hell had just happened.

One minute he was just driving the tractor minding his own business and the next he was having a mild heart attack after seeing his only worker laying limp on the ground. Then, after arguing like usual, you had shared a...a moment and stared at his mouth almost long enough to tempt him to use it.

Part Four

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[capt-spooki3]

Sunsets Never Felt The Same...

Pairing: c!Wilbur Soot x Reader

Warnings: Angst. There will be feels in this, just wait for it. BUT THERE IS A LOT OF FLUFF TOO

After a long day, Wilbur gets to watch the sunset with his favorite person though neither of them knew how that day would change them forever...

2.5k words

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The soft padding of footsteps sounded on the chilled stone walkways that connected a few of the small houses in L’manburg. Even with the promise of war on the horizon and dangerous tension in the air, the evening is quiet, the only noises being the hoot of an owl or frogs down by the waters near the homes. Despite all that hung in the balance, it felt peaceful. The evening giving a false sense of things being perfectly fine.

Wilbur strode over the stone, his L’manburg suit being retired for the evening and replaced with a dark shirt and pants though he neglected to put on shoes. It seemed unnecessary as it wasn’t like he was walking a mile. Though with contacts out for the night, he made sure to grab his glasses.

He took a deep breath in, taking in the refreshing night air, and sighed. A smile crossed his lips and he chuckled, looking aside to the horizon that was painted with soft colors. Blues and pinks fading into purple around the setting sun while the rest of the sky was a deep and dark blue, littered with thousands of stars that were becoming more and more vibrant as the seconds ticked on and the sky darkened evermore.

“Oh, hey Wilbur.” A quiet voice spoke, catching his attention as he looked over. Just the person he was on a mission to see. Y/n sat on the top step of their small porch, dressed in a hoodie a size or two too big and shorts. It was a nice night for late September so he couldn’t really blame them for that choice. “What are you doing wanderin’ around?”

“I just so happened to be seeking some company,” He tilted his head quizzically at them, holding his hands loosely behind his back. “Mind if I sit?”

They perked up and scooted to the side from the middle of the step and patted the wood beside them. “Of course, come on.”

He walked over, climbing a couple of stairs before taking a seat on the other side of the step, making sure to give them room even with the urge in him to sit closer. Even if it was just a couple of inches.

“It’s a nice night, perfect for watching the sun set I'd say. It won’t be long till I have to start bringing a blanket out with me though.” They giggled, seeming excited to do so instead of seeing the extra work as a burden. Wilbur looked at them as they gazed at the sky, his heart-melting with their giggle and own gaze softening just looking at them. The way the evening light from the setting sun bathed their skin oh so gently. The only better sight is seeing them in the early morning glow, never had he thought he could describe someone as ethereal before, but it was truly amazing how captivating it made them look.

“Will?” He turned away right as they looked at him, cheeks warming with slight embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry I guess I zoned out. Were you talking?” He glanced at them again, meeting their curious eyes for a moment before looking back to the now purple sky surrounding the nearly fully set sun.

“I just asked if you were okay. I can imagine you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Even not being your right-hand man in this war, I know it weighs a lot on the mind even as a soldier.” They said with a cute sort of fondness mixed with worry.

“You’ve got the right idea that’s for sure.” He let out a breathy laugh, turning to them. “It has been rough, I will be honest with you. I haven’t been the best but…” He trailed off, their gazes were locked. The world seemed unreal around them, every issue in his life left his mind as he let all of his focus revolve around the lovely person by his side. Even as they shifted nervously with his eyes on them for so long and their cheeks reddening a tad, he felt more at ease than he had in months. “Right now, I feel on top of the world.”

Y/n laughed, they were so easy to fluster it seemed. 

“You really are one for the dramatics aren’t you Wilby.” Their eyes lingered on him a bit longer as they started to change their position, moving a bit closer to him as they pulled their legs up to their chest and looked at the stars that had started to litter the sky in front of them in place of the sun.

He was about to shoot them a response, till he heard distance honking and looked to the other end of the sky, barely making out a flock of geese. Silence fell over both of them as they listened to the nostalgic calls of the birds overhead that filled the two with a deep sense of calm.

The peacefulness of the moment they were sharing felt almost romantic, something you couldn’t experience with just anyone, and right now he, at least, wished to spend it with only them. Silent wishes filled his thoughts that they felt the same.

“Yeah? Well maybe I am… you sure seem to like it though, so I would say that’s okay.” His voice held a teasing note in it and he leaned back to rest his hands on the porch behind him, taking in and letting out a deep breath.

“I think you’re really lovely-”

“I like you a lot Wilbur-”

The two said at the same time, looking at each other in surprise before Y/n couldn’t contain their laughter, and Wilbur quickly followed after in a spurt of laughter. It took a few moments for them to calm down and catch their breaths to which, with a few giggles in between some of their words, started up again.

“Okay okay- I’m sorry, you go first.”

“I-” He giggled a bit, “I, I think you’re very lovely.” He said wholeheartedly, looking at him with a smile, and pointed to them to tell them to go next.

“Okay… I like you a lot… Wilbur.” They got out, shyly, growing visibly nervous as they fiddled with their hands and letting their gaze float around. Gods did he truly adore them and hearing that filled him with bittersweet happiness.

You see, Sally hadn’t been gone long, so confessions of love always brought him back to moments of her. He shook the thought from his head, he shouldn’t dwell on someone who wasn’t going to return to him and he knew she would want him to do this. 

For himself. For his happiness, no matter how short-lived it might be.

“Would it be too straightforward to tell you I was deeply in love with you? That I see you as the bright and forever shining sun in the sky? That to me, looking into your eyes has felt more magical than anything this crazy world had provided or thrown our way?” Wilbur shifted his body toward them, leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees.

“What if I told you that nearly every waking moment since I realized my own infatuation, I have thought about you. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve screwed up because I was so wrapped up in my thoughts. Oh god and the hours at night that all I want is to get up and walk to your door and just hug you. Wrap you in my arms and never let you go.” He sighed, chuckling a little at Y/n’s baffled expression, and smiled. Wilbur reached out and ran the back of his fingers over their cheek and moved a little bit of hair behind their ear.

“That wouldn’t be… too straight forward would it?” He whispered, treasuring the way their head tilted toward where his hand was lingering before they reached up to press his palm to their cheek and gaze at him with a loving look that just turned him into an absolutely lovesick fool for them.

“No… I don’t think so. I think you said just the right words.” Their words clung to him, immediately replaying themselves over and over in his mind.

He moved closer to them so his leg was touching theirs as they were now crossed and facing him. Leaning himself forward, watching them as they watched him right back, but he scrunched his face up a little. Wilbur reached up and pulled his glasses off his face, now that they were so close he wanted to really look at them and see their face without needing help from contacts or lenses. He let them spill out of his hand to the wood beside him.

“You wouldn’t...mind if I kissed you right now, would you?” Y/n whispered.

“God, please do.”

They giggled at his quick response, taking their hand off his and in return cupping his face to which he moved his hand to their upper arm, holding his breath in anticipation with his eyes closed. But they didn’t move. He opened his eyes to see them smiling at him like he was a little kitten.

“W-What?”

“You are so cute.” They said before closing the distance and pressing a sweet kiss against his lips to which he kissed back eagerly. This sweet form of intimacy was one he missed most of all after losing Sally. He never imagined being able to feel something like this for a long time, the moment they kissed him though, he could feel all tension just fall from his body as he melted into them. His arms wrapped down around their waist and they moved on hand from his cheek to put around his neck.

Wilbur didn’t want to admit it, but finally feeling this comfort and affection after bottling up so many feelings day after day, it seemed to really get to him as he felt a tear roll down his cheek and Y/n pulled away quickly to look at him, obviously concerned.

“Will are you okay? What’s wro-”

“I’m okay… I-I’m… this is just so nice.”

“Aw...Will…” Y/n wiped away the tear with their thumb, making him chuckle a little and he kissed them again, letting the entirety of them fill his senses. The moment felt so perfect, like nothing in the world could ruin it.

“Pfft- eyy get a room, Wilbur!!” Tommy’s voice rang out causing Wilbur to pull away and look toward the voice. 

It seemed Tommy and Tubbo wanted to take a late-night walk. 

He felt his face heat up in embarrassment and Y/n bury their face in his chest, seemingly just as embarrassed

“T-Tommy- man what the hell?!” Tommy cackled and leaned over, whispering something to Tubbo and gesturing over to the two, making Tubbo laugh. 

“Hey have a good night, don’t keep them up too late tonight!” Tommy teased right before the two picked up their pace, running off. He was going to shout something at him but decided to let him go with just an unamused sigh.

Y/n giggled though at the boys and he looked down to look at them to which they wrapped their arms around him.

“It is kinda late you know.”

“Oh- right I’m sorry you're probably tired. I’ll go okay?” He spoke softly and they let go of him to look at him.

“Actually… could you stay?”

Wilbur went silent for a few moments before smiling. “Now that is pretty forward.” He teased, referencing his earlier words, and they immediately flushed a bit.

“N-No no I didn’t mean- no i just…” They trailed off, too embarrassed to continue and he just chuckled, kissing their forehead.

“I know, it’s okay sunshine. I’ll stay for tonight if it'll make you happy.” He reached over to where he haphazardly dumped his glasses on the porch beside him. “Y/n… I hope you know that I love you so much. You really are incredible.”

~~

“Wilbur!” Y/n yelled at him, catching him right as he jumped down from the wall at the lowest point. He didn’t expect anyone to see him especially with the commotion going on inside.

“You need to go, I have places to be.” Being so cold to them hurt, but he didn’t have time to be nice.

“Will…” They cried and stepped toward him, his face softened and he smiled. He laughed. His shoulders shook and he lowered his head, hands in his pockets.

He removed his hands and strode toward Y/n with a walk and pace that made them back up, but not fast enough to get away from him as he was already right in front of them. He left nearly no space as his gloved hands cupped their cheeks firmly, but still with a fond gentleness. A slow, excited, shaky breath left his lips and he laughed softly before he took a deep breath. His eyes met their’s, the sweetness was there but the crazed glint was evident and the sight made them tense up.

“I know no one else saw this coming and to everyone else, what is to come may be considered a tragedy, but darling,

My sun,

My beautiful sunflower among fields of roses,

This was the fate of this country. This was my destiny.”

He glanced toward the walls as a firework shot, screams for Tubbo following after and Y/n watched in fear, but he turned their face back toward him. He pulled their face to him, though the action was gentle, and he pressed his lips to theirs. Tears spilled over their cheeks and upon feeling them on his hands he pulled away just to get pulled right back by them. It was almost as they were desperately trying to block out the cries and shouts by kissing him.

Wilbur forced himself away, needing to get to the final control room, and stared at them with their vulnerable expression.

“Don’t mourn me, my love, don’t cry. This is how the world was bound to end up so don’t wish for a different future.

I do not regret any of my decisions leading up to this point." He sounded excited.

"Even now, my marvelous star, I do not feel the wish to redo a single action of mine that made this future possible.

I need you to live your life and live it well. Know I will be with you in spirit, I will never be gone so do not miss me.”

With a final kiss and a message whispered in their ear, he was gone.

~~

Y/n didn't dare move from the spot Wilbur abandoned them in. Fear froze them for they didn't know what he had planned. Many minutes passed before the first explosion rang out. 

They stood, facing the wall of their country, the one they fought so hard to defend, as the TNT blasted rubble and dust their way while all they could do was watch. They fell to their knees, being shown the remnants of their precious country as Wilbur’s whispered words rang clear in their mind again. The tears spilled down their cheeks endlessly, not wanting to believe what he had done.

“Just enjoy the show, darling, as it is for you.”

It seemed he really was the dramatic type...

[huttons]

if you’re in love, you’re a lucky one || nathan mackinnon

word count: 20.7k

summary:  Rory is just trying to find her place in Denver after landing her dream job after university. As she slowly finds friends and starts to feel comfortable with the choices she made, she meets none other than Nathan Mackinnon. They hit it off fast, but not everything turns out like a dream.

author’s note: This was written as part of @hockeynetwork​‘s winter fic exchange for @broadstbroskis​! I’m sorry this took so long, but I really do hope it’s worth the wait <3 A lot of love went into this, and I’d also love to thank @antoineroussel​ for listening to me yell about this fic for far too long.

“Never leave a friend behind. Friends are all we have to get us through this life - and they are the only things from this world that we could hope to see in the next.” ― Dean Koontz

Rory feels extremely lucky that she managed to find a job in her field before graduation has rolled around, even if it’s cutting things a little bit close. She knows how hard it is, especially seeing her friends struggle with it all. Even knowing how lucky she is, a huge part of her is anxious about having to move to a completely different state than all of the people she’s gotten close to during university. There’s something terrifying about starting over in a place you know nothing about.

At least the things she’s heard about Denver are almost all good. Besides, it’s not like she’s moving to the other side of the country, but Rory still feels overwhelmed at all of the things she has to prepare for. In the moments that it all starts to become too much, she wonders if she made the right choice.

“I think it’s a little too late to back out,” Piper laughs. “You already have everything set up and ready to go. Besides, you got that LiDAR job you were freaking out so much about. I refuse to let you drop out of it now.”

Rory sighs. “I know, it’s just scary. Like… what if I hate my coworkers? I’m depending on the fact that we become friends because how else am I supposed to make friends?”

“You’re pretty likeable, I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Piper replies, smiling brightly. “But if they end up being shitty, I’ll fly down here with the girls and fight them for you.”

“I appreciate it,” Rory says softly, smiling a little.

“Of course, it’s the least we could do. Now, do you want to go over your list again?” Piper inquires. “Or do you feel confident about it now?”

“You’ve told me I’ve had everything the last three times, I don’t think it’s possible for me to be missing everything,” Rory sighs.

“There we go, that’s the spirit!” Piper teases.

Rory rolls her eyes. “Maybe it is a good thing I’m moving to another state.”

“Whatever you say,” Piper replies, smiling. “Now, do you wanna have movie night with the girls?”

Rory smiles, nodding, knowing that this is probably the last time everyone will be able to hang out before finals and everyone going their own ways. It’s a terrifying thought knowing that they won’t be seeing each other again come September, but she knows that everyone is going to be doing amazing things. Besides, they’d all still be friends, things would just be looking a little bit different.

The last few weeks roll by in a state of panic Rory hasn’t felt in a long time. All of her friends were panicked by finals, but also saddened by the fact that this would be the last time everyone would be doing this together. When the day comes for Rory to pack up everything in the back of her SUV, everything feels a bit surreal.

“I’m scared,” Rory whispers to Piper as she puts the last box in the trunk.

“I think we all are,” Piper replies, smiling sadly. “This feels like we’re all being thrown into proper adulthood again with no better idea of what to do.”

Rory snorts. “Yeah, it really does. I just… nothing is gonna be the same, is it?”

“No, but don’t think you’re gonna get rid of me that easily. We didn’t go through all of this for nothing,” Piper reassures. “I know I can’t just waltz over when someone breaks your heart, but I’m still just a phone call away.”

“And you better call before making any impulsive decisions,” Rory teased.

“But they won’t be impulsive if I tell you first,” Piper groans.

Rory laughs. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point.”

“You’ll do great, Rory. Don’t let them intimidate you too much down there.”

“I’ll do my best.”

They hug tightly one last time before Rory gets in the car and starts the long drive to Denver. It feels weird not making the usual drive back to her parents house, and it takes everything in her to not just turn right around. She turns up the music, and focuses on just trying to get to the first motel of the drive. There’s something lonely about not making the long drive with anyone else, especially being so used to just driving with her friends. 

Over the next week, Rory makes the drive to Denver, making stops at different state parks to take in the view. Before she knows it, she’s rolled up to her new apartment complex. Everything starts to feel a bit more real as she realizes that this is where she’ll be living for quite some time. Taking a deep breath, she prepares herself for the long process of getting signed into her new place.

By the end of the day, Rory feels exhausted, even though she’s barely managed to unpack everything she brought. None of it is even organized yet, but it’s good enough for a first day. As she gets ready for bed, she groans, remembering that she still needs to get a bed, meaning that she’ll be sleeping on an air mattress until that happens. 

“Ugh, this is what I get,” Rory mutters as she sets up her sleeping situation. “At least I don’t start work for a few days. That’s an upside, right?”

A few moments later, her phone is ringing, and it’s none other than Piper, probably checking in to make sure that she made it safely to the apartment.

“Oh good, you’re not dead,” Piper says, obviously smiling.

Rory rolls her eyes. “No, I’m not dead, but I just remembered that I’m gonna have to sleep on an air mattress until I get a proper bed.”

“See, I told you that you should just tie one to the top of your car!” Piper exclaims.

“It would have gotten wet from sitting outside overnight though. Nobody wants a wet mattress.”

“But I bet it sounds better than an air mattress.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know about that,” Rory replies, laughing. “I guess that should be my first priority tomorrow. Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t sort this out before I left.”

“You had other things to worry about, like making sure you didn’t fail your geology final,” Piper jokes.

“I suppose you’re not wrong,” Rory sighs dramatically.”

“Of course I’m not. Now, where are my pictures? Send me pictures,” Piper demands.

Thankfully, the rest of the conversation helps ease Rory’s nerves, and she falls asleep quickly that night. When she wakes up in the morning, she groans as she stretches a bit. She decides that trying to find something more comfortable to sleep on is her mission for the day.

The next few days pass rather quickly as Rory does her best to get herself organized and situated before starting work. As her first day approaches, she feels nervous, still unsure of what to make of everything. But she’s also excited for it, knowing that she’s been waiting for this moment ever since she decided to become a geology major.

When her first day rolls around, she can feel the nerves thrumming through her, and she ends up at the office almost an hour early. It doesn’t seem like anybody else is there yet, so she waits in the parking lot until somebody taps on her window. She startles, but calms down when Rory realizes that it’s Shea, the guy who interviewed her.

“It’s good to meet you in person, Rory,” Shea greets as Rory gets out of the car. “Got here a little bit early, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, you would be correct,” she replies, smiling a little. “I just wasn’t sure what to expect with traffic and I was nervous, so…”

“Happens to all of us. We’re the first ones here, so I’ll give you a quick tour before everyone else gets here,” Shea replies.

The office is fairly small, but that’s not surprising considering a lot of the work is done on various field sites. Rory perks up a little when Shea shows that she’ll have her own little corner of the office; she’d assumed she’d have to share space with someone else.

“We just like to make sure everyone feels like they have their own space here. It just makes everyone feel a bit more comfortable, you know?” Shea explains when Rory brings it up. “Besides, it’s not like there’s that many of us to take up space.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” she replies.

Over the next few weeks, Rory feels a bit in over her head, but slowly starts to settle in. Her coworkers are welcoming, some inviting her to hang out outside of work as well. It’s more than she expected before moving to Denver, but she’s grateful for the warm welcome. There’s still days where she feels overwhelmed and misses seeing her friends every day, but she manages her best.

It’s a little over a month later when Shea invites her to go to the bar with a few other people from the office. Apparently it’s somewhat of a tradition with the group, and Rory feels delighted at being included.

“Of course you’re invited,” Shea says when Rory brings it up. “We just didn’t want to scare you off with being too much.”

Rory laughs a little. “I don’t think you guys can get any louder than my friends from university.”

“Well, I think we can take that as a challenge,” Ashton retorts. “Things can get a little bit wild over here.”

“Don’t listen to them, they’re just kidding,” Blair says, trying to hide her smile. “We mostly just hang out and grab a few drinks since most of us are past our partying days.”

The casual banter continues as they walk the few blocks to the bar that they frequent. Rory isn’t quite sure what she was expecting, but it seems like a relatively laid back place, at least in comparison to what she’s used to. At first, she feels a little bit out of place, unsure of where she stands with everyone in this new setting, but after a couple of drinks, she starts to settle in.

By the time she’s heading back to her apartment, Rory realizes that it’s been a long time since she’s laughed so much. There’s a small part of her that feels like she’s betraying her university friends, but she knows that’s ridiculous. Still, the feeling tugs at her, so she gives in and decides to call Piper, knowing that her friend will pick up.

“Hey, babe, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” Piper greets. “Is something up?”

“No, just missed you,” Rory whispers as she flops onto her bed. “Went out with some of my coworkers tonight and it felt weird. They were nice, but it’s just so different.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Piper replies, obviously smiling. “I’m glad you found new drinking buddies.”

“Nah, it wasn’t like that,” Rory says. “We mostly just talked, you know? But made me miss everyone.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Piper inquires, a little bit concerned. “Or is it like a ‘just kind of missing everyone’ type of thing?”

“I guess I just realized how different everything is going to be now,” Rory says softly.

“Well, that’s not a bad thing. Besides, you know I would come kick your ass before I let you forget about me. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do, Piper, you know I wouldn’t forget you.”

“That’s good then. Now, tell me about who you went to the bar with. I want to know everything.”

Rory smiles softly before talking about her night. She’s not sure how long they spend on the phone together, but when she falls asleep, she feels calmer than she has in a long time. 

~ ~ ~

A few years down the line, and Rory has truly settled into Denver. She can’t imagine herself living anywhere else, and she’s grown to love her job and coworkers far more than she ever expected. There’s moments where it all feels a bit surreal that Rory was ever scared of moving, but now that she has great friends and a routine, it feels like this is what was meant to happen.

It’s another Friday night when she and the usual group are getting ready to head to the bar, albeit a bit later than normal. They all got swept up in a large project with a close deadline, and while going straight to bed sounds tempting, they’re more tempted by the new menu the bar rolled out earlier this week.

“I can’t believe I could be in bed, but instead I’m staying up to get bar food,” Ashton groans. “How the hell is this my life now?”

“I mean, it’s not too late to head back,” Rory teases. “We can always tell you about it on Monday.”

“That’s… that’s even worse,” Ashton complains. “This better be worth it.”

“Okay, but when has their food ever disappointed us?” Blair points out. 

“Exactly!” Shea exclaims. “Besides, we can just stay for food and then leave.”

“I guess,” Ashton sighs. 

When they get to the bar, they grab their normal table as Shea goes up to order. Considering it’s a Friday night, there aren’t too many people here, which is a big reason why they keep coming back. However, when Shea comes back with their food, a loud group comes walking in, earning them a couple of glares.

“Wait a minute,” Shea whispers, squinting at the group as he sets down the food. “I recognize them.”

Rory looks at him, confused. “Are they like… friends of yours that we don’t know about? I thought we were your only friends.”

“Oh my god,” Shea says, trying to hold back laughter. “No, they definitely play for the Avs. They are definitely professional athletes.”

“Well, what the fuck are they doing here then?” Ashton inquires as they grab some fries. “As much as I love it here, it’s kind of dingy.”

Shea shrugs. “Hell if I have a clue.”

They ignore the group for most of the night since they’re on opposite sides of the bar and never quite intersect. However, when Rory goes to get another drink, she sees her friends trying to not laugh as she makes her way back. She gives them a confused look, unsure if she did something weird.

“What did I miss?��� Rory asks, concerned.

“Nothing, just seems like someone is checking you out,” Blair answers, smiling and glancing over to the Avs players. 

Rory snorts. “That’s a good one.”

“No, we’re being serious, I promise,” Ashton says, smirking. “You’re getting us drinks next just to make sure.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Rory replies, squinting. “Besides, I think you’re wrong.”

“Well, there’s no way to prove it if you don’t go back,” Ashton teases. “Don’t you want to know if a professional hockey player is checking you out.”

“I really think I’m good,” Rory sighs.

“Weren’t you just complaining to us about your lack of dating life? This is a great chance to turn things around,” Shea says, smiling widely. 

“I really hate all of you and I have no clue why we’re friends,” Rory groans.

“Look, it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” Blair inquires. 

“Why do you say that like I’m going to go talk to them?” Rory whispers intently. “Because I’m not going to.”

Ashton rolls their eyes. “Fine, I guess. But it’s your loss. I was thinking you could at least badger him into buying our drinks or something.”

“Please, as if we don’t already get a discount for coming here all the fucking time,” Rory laughs. “Besides, I don’t think that a professional hockey player would want to date someone who’s idea of a Friday night is to go try new bar food.”

“You say that like this is a bad thing,” Blair jokes. “But we won’t push it if you really don’t want us to.”

“Look, maybe he checked me out, but that means nothing,” Rory says. “It just makes me feel kind of weird, I guess.”

“We’ll leave it alone then,” Shea replies firmly. 

They spend the rest of the night joking around, and start to head out. As Rory is grabbing her purse, ready to catch up with her friends who are already at the door, she hears a faint hello. She turns around and sees one of the Avs players, presumably the one her friends said was checking her out. 

“Oh, uh, hi,” Rory says awkwardly. “Did… did you need something?”

The guy blushes a little, which Rory admits is a little cute. “I just wanted to say hi and uh… maybe ask for your number?”

“I, uh,” Rory replies, taken off guard. “Going straight for it, huh? Not even going to ask my name?”

“Shit, that was… that was way too forward, wasn’t it?” the guy says, awkwardly laughing. 

Rory smiles a little bit. “Yeah, just a little bit. I’m Rory, by the way. And what’s your name?”

“I’m Nate,” the guy replies, looking a little bit confused.

“It’s nice to meet you Nate. And as much as I would love to give you my number, I also don’t know anything about you,” Rory replies.

“So that’s… that’s a no?” he asks, looking a little defeated.

“My friends and I come here every Friday night. If you’re not busy next week, swing by with a couple of your friends,” Rory answers, giving him a small smile. 

“Ah, you want to see if I pass the friend check first?” Nate inquires, smiling crookedly.

Rory nods. “See you around then?”

“I - yeah, of course,” Nate says faintly as Rory walks off.

She can feel herself internally screaming, unsure if what she did was smart or not. Even if Nate is a professional athlete, she still doesn’t know him, and giving her number to strangers doesn’t feel quite right. When she meets up with her friends outside, they’re all giving her inquisitive looks.

“So, did loverboy come over and talk to you?” Ashton inquires.

Rory blushes. “Yeah, he asked for my number, and I, uh, I didn’t give it to him? I just told him to meet us here next week if he was really interested.”

“Holy shit, that’s bold,” Shea says, smiling. “But like… not in a bad way. It’s probably for the best, if I’m being honest.”

“Making him work for it, I like it,” Blair comments, smiling.

Rory sighs loudly. “I’m not making him work for it, it’s just that I don’t like giving my number to people I don’t know.”

“Whatever you say,” Blair says, rolling her eyes a little bit. “Let’s just hope he shows up next week then.”

Throughout the next week, they find any chance to tease Rory about the upcoming Friday night. Not that any of this really surprised her, though, especially knowing that they’ve been there for all of her complaining about being single. They want this to be something good just as much as she does. When the day finally rolls around, they all keep giving her smirks, knowing what’s about to happen.

“You know, he might not even show up,” Rory points out as they pack up their things.

Ashton snorts. “Something tells me that he will.”

“If Ashton says so, then it must be true,” Shea says, smiling widely. “Hopefully he doesn’t keep us waiting too long.”

“You guys are the worst,” Rory mutters. 

Everyone laughs as they start the familiar walk towards the bar. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, Rory feels nervous. There’s a big part of her that feels like the previous week wasn’t even real, especially considering what a big shot Nate is in Denver. If he doesn’t show up, she tries to reason that it was a fluke and she has nothing to be hurt over. However, there’s also a small part of her that hopes it means something.

“So, like… did you even sort any details out with him besides coming here tonight?” Blair inquires, curious. 

“Just decided to hope for the best,” Rory replies, shrugging. “Didn’t think it would be a big deal or anything.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Shea snickers. “And would you look at that - looks like he brought backup too.”

“Dear god,” Rory murmurs as she looks over at the entrance.

Nate looks around confused for a few moments before he spots Rory. He smiles brightly when he spots her, making Rory blush and sink down in her seat. Even though she knows that she’s the one who set this up, she still feels weird about it, unsure of what to really expect of tonight. Thankfully, her friends don’t say anything as he makes his way over.

“Good to see you didn’t bail out,” Nate says once he gets up to the table. “Mind if we grab a seat?”

“Might be more convenient than standing,” Rory jokes.

“I - okay, you have a point,” Nate says as his friends try to hold back their laughter.

“So, who are your friends?” Rory asks as they grab a seat.

“Oh, this is Gabe and Tyson,” Nate answers. “And… you all are?”

“These are my coworkers and, unfortunately, also my best friends,” Rory explains. “This is Shea, Ashton, and Blair.”

“Nice to meet all of you,” Nate says awkwardly. 

There’s a few moments of silence where nobody quite knows what to say. To be honest, Rory didn’t actually plan for this because she wasn’t sure if Nate would actually show up tonight. She’s not quite sure how to break the silence, unsure of what to talk about.

“So, what do all of you do for work?” Gabe inquires, obviously looking for anything to talk about.

Things get a little bit easier after that, as they explain the work they do with LiDAR. They end up using the same explanation they use when schools tour their office - just a simple way to explore what’s underground using light. Rory gets the sense that a chunk of it is going over Nate and his friends’ heads, but they genuinely look interested in what’s happening. Something about that makes her feel a little bit more at ease, even if they aren’t totally getting it, they’re at least trying.

“And I mean, we’re a pretty ragtag group since this is kind of a weird field to end up in. So I guess it makes sense that we all just kind of clicked,” Shea explains. 

“That must be nice,” Nate says, smiling softly. 

“So, what do you do?” Ashton inquires, trying their hardest to not smile.

Rory rolls her eyes, knowing that Ashton is just trying to get them to talk a bit more.

“Oh, uh, we all play hockey for the Avalanche,” Nate answers, obviously taken a little bit off guard. 

“Care to tell the class about what that means?” Blair asks. “Like… what’s that even like?”

Nate seems to loosen up a little as he gets to talk about something he’s obviously comfortable with. The rest of the night seems to pass quickly, and before Rory knows it, everyone starts heading out for the evening. Before she gets up from the table, though, she notices Nate giving her a questioning look.

“We’ll wait for you outside,” Shea says as he looks between the two of them. “If you’re not out in five minutes, I’ll come back inside, though.”

Rory nods and turns back to Nate. “Seems like you passed the friend check.”

“Oh, well, that’s good,” he replies, laughing nervously. “Does that mean I can get your number?”

“I suppose so,” Rory replies, trying to not laugh.

After exchanging numbers, they head out, and Rory’s friends are obviously interested in what happened. She rolls her eyes, knowing that they’re too nosy for their own good.

“We just exchanged numbers, that’s it,” Rory says. “Literally nothing else happened.”

“Like… no future dates planned?” Blair inquires, teasing.

“No,” Rory says. “I still barely know him.”

“But like… is that not the point of a date?” Shea replies, smiling. 

“You’re all the worst, I can’t believe we’re friends,” Rory groans. 

Ashton smiles widely. “Please, we’re the best. Who else would sit through an unofficial first date?”

“That’s not what this was!” Rory exclaims, blushing. “I don’t need you to chaperone me.”

“Sure, but we did it anyways,” Ashton snickers. 

Rory rolls her eyes, but lets it drop. “Well, at least you’ll be the first to know if anything actually does happen.”

“We better be,” Blair laughs. “Anyways, I’ll see you all on Monday. Make sure to get some sleep because we all know how busy things are going to be next week.”

“Ugh, I don’t even want to think about it,” Ashton groans. 

The group laughs as they all head their separate ways. When Rory gets back to her apartment, she knows she has to tell Piper, knowing that her friend is going to want to know everything. Piper has been there for everything, and if anyone would know what to do next, it would be her.

“Rory, what’s got you calling me so late?” Piper asks, teasing a little.

“So, uh, do you remember me telling you about the guy last week? I finally got his number,” Rory says. “And, uh, I’m only freaking out a little bit.”

Piper snorts. “Well, that’s a good start at least. Have you texted him at all yet?”

“Uh, no?” Rory replies. “What would I even say?”

“Maybe ask if he had a good night or whatever,” Piper says, obviously trying to not laugh.

“I- fuck, you’re probably right,” Rory mutters.

“But honestly, you don’t need to make it a thing right away. And that’s probably the right way to go, you know?”

“So… just be friends? I feel like he wanted my number for a date.”

“Sure, but also as your best friend, I know you don’t like dating people you don’t really know either. If it’s a big deal, then it’s whatever.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Piper.”

“Maybe, but there’s no harm in taking things slow. Besides, you said he was a professional athlete, right? The dude could pick anyone to hang out with on a Friday night and he picked you. I really think you’re fine.”

“I really hate when you’re the voice of reason,” Rory groans.

Rory laughs. “It has to happen sometimes. But seriously, I would stress about it, and just play it casual. There’s no reason to force yourself to do something you’re not ready to do.”

“I want to be ready, though,” Rory whispers. “I’ve been complaining about this ever since I moved to Denver.”

“Whatever happens, it’ll all be okay. Just keep me in the loop, okay?” Piper says. “Now go drink some water and go to bed.”

“Thank you Piper,” Rory says softly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I’ll talk to you soon,” Piper replies before hanging up.

Rory sighs, but does what Piper said. After chugging down a glass of water, she sends a quick text to Nate asking what he thought of the night before promptly deciding to pass out. She’s not even sure if he’s still awake, but it’s better to just get it over with.

When she wakes up, Rory immediately checks her phone, but doesn’t see a reply. She shrugs it off, assuming he’s still asleep. As the day goes on, she gets more nervous at the lack of reply, but tries to not think anything of it. Professional athletes have weird schedules, so she blames it on that. Turns out, she’s right when he replies later that afternoon.

Hey, sorry for not replying earlier, I barely made it to practice on time :(

No!!! Don’t worry about it, I can’t imagine having to go to work right now lmao

I had a great time though!! I really liked your friends and I’m glad I got to meet them

I’ll be sure to tell them, hopefully their ego doesn’t get to big 

Fingers crossed lmao

Would you maybe want to hang out again sometime? Or I can invite you to a game or something

…is now the time to be honest that I don’t know that much about hockey

Is that why you didn’t know who I was that first night?

Yeah it would be 😅

Rip looks like I lost that bet. But it wouldn’t be a deal breaker! Just have to have you come to a game so you can learn :)

I’m sold then 👀 Can’t wait to be confused the whole time skfjsdf

Would any of your coworkers want to come? We actually have a game Friday night, and I’m guessing that you’re all usually free then

I’ll have to check to see if they won’t be too mad at messing up our bar ritual. I’m sure they’ll agree though!

Let me know asap so I can get you tickets

omg no don’t worry about that, we can get our own tickets

I can get you all good tickets though :) 

…fine

:)

Rory rolls her eyes, but she smiles a little bit. She’s excited that Nate is including her friends in plans like this because they’re important to her. And she also wants to make sure that they like anyone she’s interested in as well. Before she forgets, Rory sends a text to the group chat asking if they’d be up for the game the following week.

By the end of the day, they all agreed, and she lets Nate know immediately. He sends a smiley face back, and says that their tickets will be at the front office. Despite knowing that she won’t see him at all that day, she still feels nervous. There’s something about it that feels like he’s letting her into a part of his life, even though it’s such a public position of his.

Before she forgets, she lets Piper know, who promptly screams about how excited she is. Knowing that one of her best friends seems to approve of him - even in a vague way - helps reassure Rory just a little bit more. 

Despite the large workload, the week passes by quickly, and before Rory knows it, it’s Friday night, and she’s headed to Pepsi Center. She feels nervous, and it doesn’t help that her friends have been teasing her all week. Even though she knows she won’t be seeing Nate after the game, she still feels the need to impress him somehow.

“Come on, the dude gave you fucking tickets to watch him play. I think he wants to impress you,” Shea points out as they grab their seats.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Rory mumbles. “I feel like he doesn’t need to do much.”

“I mean, you were the one who turned him down the first time,” Blair replies, smirking.

“Yeah, I’m sure he doesn’t get that often,” Ashton says. “Like, the dude probably hasn’t heard ‘no’ for a while.”

“Have I told you that you’re all the worst?” Rory jokes. “But seriously, this feels like a lot when we still barely know each other.”

“Okay, but also consider that he has money. Like this was probably nothing for him,” Ashton says. 

“You know, this really isn’t making anything better,” Rory groans. “It’s just making me even more anxious.”

Blair tugs her into a side hug. “Look, I’m sure he just wants to show off a little bit. And he also probably gets some allotted tickets or something. Just don’t sweat it too much.”

“But if he’s willing to give us more tickets…” Shea jokes.

“We’ve officially hung out once, you guys,” Rory groans. “I don’t even know if I can consider him a friend.”

“Whatever you say,” Shea replies, trying to not smile. 

Thankfully, they all move onto lighter subjects after, and get lost in conversation until the game starts. Rory had asked Nate some questions about the game throughout the week, but she’s still lost as she gets lost in the action. Sure, she understands the basics of it, but there’s moments where she’s not quite sure what just happened.

Towards the end of the second period, Nate scores a goal and Rory cheers loudly. It’s almost over as quick as it started, but he points over to where she’s sitting, making her blush and sink down into her seat. Her friends don’t even try to hide their laughter at the whole situation.

“Maybe he just always points over here,” Rory mumbles.

“Something tells me that he doesn’t,” Blair replies, still laughing. 

Rory rolls her eyes before turning her focus back onto the game. Thankfully, the rest of the game passes without incident, and the Avs end up winning. She sends Nate a quick congratulatory text, as well as saying that she really enjoyed the game. He doesn’t respond, which she figured would be the case, so she tucks her phone back into her pocket.

“Are you sure you’re not meeting up with him after?” Ashton inquires. “We won’t tease you too much about ditching us for him.”

“Yeah, he said he’s usually pretty tired after evening games and isn’t much for conversation,” Rory replies. “Not that I can really blame him.”

“That’s a shame,” Shea sighs. “I was really hoping we’d have something fun to bet on.”

“You wouldn’t dare bet on that,” Rory accuses, squinting a little. 

“Oh, he most definitely would. It’s a normal thing, unfortunately,” Blair replies. “But that’s understandable. Hopefully you can catch him some other time.”

Rory shrugs. “I’m sure we will.”

When Rory gets home, she checks her phone and sees that Nate sent a smiley face and a simple call me? She hesitates for a moment, before deciding to hit the call button.

“Hey,” Nate greets after a few moments. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”

“Yeah, I had an amazing time. It was a lot more fun than I was expecting,” Rory replies.

“I’m really sorry that we couldn’t hang out for longer, but I wouldn’t want to fall asleep on you,” Nate explains. “But if you’re free this weekend, maybe we can get lunch or something.”

“I - yeah, that would be really nice, actually. Do you have a preference for which day?”

“Uh, I guess Sunday would work. I can text you a time and place.”

“That would be really nice,” Rory says softly. “I’ll see you then.”

They sit on the phone for a couple seconds in silence, neither quite sure what to say. Rory doesn’t want the call to end, but she doesn’t want to keep Nate up too long.

“Can I ask why you didn’t give me your number that first night? I know you said you wanted me to pass the friend check but…” Nate inquires, hesitant.

“I mean, I didn’t really know who you were. I just felt kind of weird giving my number to some strange guy I briefly talked to at the bar,” Rory answers.

“Oh, I… yeah, that makes sense,” Nate says. “And Sunday, would it be a date? Or just friends?”

Rory pauses for a moment to think. She wants it to be a date, but she also knows that it would give Nate the wrong idea. As much as she wants to have a partner, she also knows that she just needs a little more time to be sure of herself and her emotions.

“Just friends, if that’s okay,” Rory whispers. “If that’s not what you were hoping for, I’m sorry. It’s just… I want to be friends first before anything else.”

“Of course that’s okay,” Nate replies. “Doesn’t change a thing.”

Rory frowns a little. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure. I wouldn’t say it otherwise.”

“I - okay then,” Rory replies. “I should let you go to bed.”

“See you Sunday then,” Nate says, smiling, before hanging up.

Much to Rory’s surprise, Sunday went well. Things weren’t weird, something she was fully expecting to happen, but lunch passed by quickly. They ended up making tentative plans to hang out again soon, with Nate making it very clear there were no expectations attached. Knowing that, Rory started to feel more and more comfortable around him.

“I don’t know what to say to you except that it tore the heart out of my body saying goodbye to you.” — Vita Sackville-West

To be honest, Rory never really expected to become such good friends with Nate, as well as some of his friends by extension. Over the last several months, they’ve gotten close, but never spoke of a possibility of furthering their relationship. As much as she wants to bring it up, Rory also is perfectly content with keeping things the way they are.

However, there’s moments when she wonders if she should say something. Sometimes, she’ll see Nate giving her a look or a certain smile that just makes her think. And he was very adamant in the beginning that if they were to ever date, it would be at her pace. So maybe he’s waiting for her to say something, but Rory doesn’t have the heart to ruin a perfectly good friendship.

“You know, I really feel like he feels the same way. I don’t see the harm in doing something about it,” Blair says one Friday night. “I mean, you have the dude wrapped around your finger.”

“I just want to be sure,” Rory says firmly.

“You know what would make you completely sure? Asking him out,” Ashton replies. “Like, you’re in a perfect spot right now.”

“And I really doubt he would be mean about it either,” Shea points out. “Plus, you’ve been saying how you wanted to be friends first before doing anything. And now what are you?”

“Ugh,” Rory groans. “Just give me some time, okay? I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

Blair frowns. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Rory replies. “Besides, if I fuck this up, we won’t get anymore free hockey tickets. Then what?”

“Then we don’t go to hockey games. Like, we’re going because they’re fun, but most importantly because Nate has become someone important to you,” Ashton answers. 

“I promise I’ll say something when I’m ready,” Rory whispers. “Just drop it, please.”

“Okay,” Shea says, obviously unsure. “We’ll have your back no matter what you decide.”

“Thank you,” Rory replies. “Now, what’s everyone’s plans for Valentine’s day this year? Because Nate invited us to a game if nobody has anything going on.”

“You want us to drop the subject but then you immediately tell us that Nate invited us to a Valentine’s day game?” Ashton exclaims.

“I - you know what, shut up,” Rory groans. “He’s friends with all of us, okay?”

“Mhm, I’m sure of that,” Shea mutters. 

“Maybe I’ll just take the tickets then,” Rory retorts. 

“I’m sure he would appreciate that,” Blair whispers, smirking.

“Good lord, do you want the tickets or not?” Rory asks, exasperated.

“I guess we can go,” Shea answers, acting put out.

“Oh, I guess we can go,” Rory mocks. “Jesus, you can just say yes.”

Ashton smiles widely. “But that’s not as fun.”

“Whatever you say,” Rory says, rolling her eyes.

Later that night, Rory texts Nate, saying that everyone is in for the game the following week. He sends back a smiley face and a thumbs up in return. She sighs as she gets ready for bed, thinking over what her friends had told her earlier that night.

She knows that she doesn’t have much to lose in confessing her feelings, but she also knows how busy Nate is. He’s especially focused now with playoffs coming up in a couple of months, and she knows that most of his time is spent at practice or doing something hockey related. Not that she can really blame him, she knows how hard he works, especially being a face of the franchise.

Even Piper has told her that he makes time for her now as a friend, and if he seems to feel the same way, he would definitely make time for her as a girlfriend. But something about it feels selfish to Rory in a way that she can’t explain. So, she decides to wait until the playoffs are over to say anything, and at the very least, it’ll give her more time to feel confident in her confession.

Before she knows it, she and her friends are off to Pepsi Center for the Valentine’s day game. Since this is an afternoon game, Nate agreed to meet up with them after at their usual bar with a couple of his friends. With none of them having plans, they all agreed they could all commiserate together. At the very least, it would feel less lonely than normal.

Something Rory didn’t tell the group is that they got seats right behind the Avs for today's game. She hesitated saying anything, knowing that her friends wouldn’t shut up about it. But maybe that was a bad decision because once they got to their seats and made themselves comfortable, everyone turned towards Rory. She groans, knowing exactly where the conversation has headed. As much as they laid off the teasing about Nate, she also knew they wanted the best for her.

“So, like, nothing has changed in the last week, right?” Blair inquires. “Nothing we should know about?”

“No, Nate just wanted to get us good seats for today,” Rory grumbles. “This is why I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh so you knew that we would be getting good seats today,” Ashton replies, inquisitive. “I’m starting to  think that you’re lying to us.”

“I swear I’m not lying!” Rory exclaims. “He just wanted to do something nice for all of us. Because we’re all his friends.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Shea replies, smiling. 

The game goes by in a blur, and before Rory knows it, they're off to the bar. Thankfully, her friends only tease her a couple more times before laying off. As much as she knows they mean well, it still gets a little tiring not hearing the end of it. When they get to the bar, things are fairly slow, especially considering what day it is.

“So, did you have fun?” Nate inquires as he comes to sit with them at their usual table. 

“It was fun, but it would have been even better if Rory told us we got better seats today,” Shea answers, giving Rory a look.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Rory groans. “How many times will I have to tell you this?”

Shea snorts. “You know we’ll never let you live it down. But it was seriously a good game.”

“Good, I’m glad you guys had fun,” Nate replies, smiling softly.

As the night starts to pass, Rory feels herself look at Nate more than she wants to admit. But it’s hard not to - he just naturally demands attention. Whenever she catches herself looking too long, she does her best to look away and not think about all of her feelings. As much as it pains her, she’s going to keep true to her promise of not saying anything about them quite yet.

By the time everyone is heading out of the bar, Blair holds onto Rory’s arm, holding her back. Rory gives her a questioning look, but quickly picks up that Blair wants to say something. They wave off the rest of the group, and finally get a moment alone.

“Are you really not going to say how you feel, Rory? You can’t keep quiet forever,” Blair says. 

“I - yeah, I’m not going to say anything. It’s just… things are hard for him right now with the playoffs coming up and I don’t want to get in the way of that,” Rory replies.

Blair frowns a little bit. “I have a feeling it wouldn’t be as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but I feel too guilty doing anything,” Rory sighs. “Just let me say something in my own time, okay?”

“Okay,” Blair says hesitantly. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want,” Rory says, much more firmly than she feels.

~ ~ ~

And as much as it pains Rory to do so, she doesn’t say anything all through the lead up to playoffs. Blair keeps giving her looks, but never says anything, knowing that there’s no changing Rory’s mind now. Besides, if Nate turns her down, she has a whole summer away from him to recover from the rejection. She’s just doing her best to keep herself safe at this point.

It’s mid-April now and the playoffs are starting to ramp up, and Rory is hanging out with Nate on a rare afternoon where they’re both free. She’s savoring it as much as she can, knowing that his free time is especially thin now. Nate hasn’t made it to a Friday night bar trip in weeks, and Rory has mostly watched him from afar at games.

“I feel bad that we’ve hardly seen each other lately,” Nate says as he pulls up some random nature documentary.

“You’re busy, Nate,” Rory replies. “I’m not exactly expecting to be a priority right now.”

Nate frowns. “I… that sounds so bad when you put it that way.”

“It’s true, though,” Rory says, shrugging. “And I’m not really hurt by it. I know you and the other guys have a lot to prove this year.”

“I just feel bad about it,” Nate whispers.

“You warned me that this would happen. I can’t exactly be mad that what you said would happen is happening.”

“You’re right, but it doesn’t make me happy.”

“But we’re here now. And I really don’t mind that you forget to text back sometimes,” Rory laughs. “As long as you don’t completely forget about me.”

“I would never,” Nate snorts. “Besides, your friends make it hard to forget anything.”

“And that’s what makes them loveable.”

“Unfortunately,” Nate replies, smiling softly. “Ugh, as much as I love being in the playoffs, it sucks that I don’t get more days like this.”

Rory gives him a curious look. “What, watching random nature documentaries?”

“No, just hanging out with my friends,” Nate says, laughing. 

“Huh, didn’t know you had a chill bone in you during the playoffs,” Rory teases. 

“Oh my god, I hate you,” Nate groans.

“I’m sure you do,” Rory replies, smiling.

They pass the rest of the afternoon teasing each other, hardly paying attention to anything that plays on the TV. There’s a moment where she wants to say something, put everything out in the open, but it would be the end of everything if she was being honest. So, she keeps quiet, and tries to squash down her feelings.

“Well, I’ll see you soon, I hope,” Rory says as she gets ready to head out. “And don’t forget to text me back.”

Nate smiles softly. “I’ll do my best.”

“I suppose that’s the best I can ask for,” Rory sighs, smiling back. “And good luck on your game on Monday. You’ve been working hard for it.”

“I’ll win it for you,” Nate says softly.

There’s a brief moment where their eyes connect, and Rory thinks about leaning in and kissing him, but she looks away before she makes a mistake. By the time she glances back over, the moment is broken, lost to the short moment of hesitation. She wonders what would have happened if she kissed him, but tries to not think about the what-ifs.

“Alright, I’ll catch you around,” Rory says softly as she heads out.

“Uh, yeah, see you around,” Nate replies awkwardly.

As Rory drives home, she sighs deeply. She feels a twinge of regret at not doing anything, especially with an opportunity like what she had. But rushing it and saying something when she wasn’t ready feels even worse, even though she’s been ready for longer than she wants to admit. As much as she wants to talk to Piper or Blair about what happened, she knows that they would just be confused.

The one thing that keeps her calm is just waiting for the end of the playoffs to happen. And with how well the Avs are doing right now, it might be through the Stanley Cup finals. Rory does her best to make peace with it, knowing that she inflicted it upon herself. Besides, she’s been waiting this long to say something, a couple more months wouldn’t seem like much.

Except the following months seem to pass by like dripping honey. Even with all the things that are piling up at work, Rory finds herself having a hard time focusing. Nate barely replies to her texts anymore, and the responses are usually just smiley faces. It hurts more than she wants to admit to anyone, but her friends pick up on it right away.

“What’s going on with you?” Ashton inquires one Friday night. “You’ve been like… super out of it lately.”

“I - this is going to sound so dumb,” Rory mumbles. “It’s just Nate hasn’t been replying a lot lately, but he’s busy with the Avs right now.”

“Like… he’s just ignoring you?” Blair asks. 

“I mean, I guess? But he replies to things eventually, even if it takes a little while,” Rory explains. 

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Shea says. “Don’t forget we can read you like a book, Rory.”

Rory sighs deeply. “I mean, it’s just his replies have been super short, like just emoji responses. I don’t think I’ve gotten an actual word from him since the end of April.”

“That’s actually kind of shitty,” Ashton replies, frowning. “Like, you guys are friends, you think he could respond with something.”

“He’s busy though,” Rory whispers. 

“Too busy to send a short text with words to one of his friends?” Blair asks, raising an eyebrow. “I really fucking doubt it, babe.”

“Shit, you’re probably right, but he told me this would happen,” Rory groans.

Blair gives her a look. “That doesn’t make it any better, you know.”

“Yeah, I feel like that makes it even worse,” Shea replies, frowning deeply. “Who the fuck doesn’t reply to their friends?”

“He’s just got a lot going on! I’m sure things will be better soon,” Rory says weakly. “Right?”

“I don’t know, Rory,” Ashton answers weakly. “Maybe just be a bit more firm with him next time. Like he has to reply with words at some point.”

“I guess so,” Rory mumbles.

“If he doesn’t, I’ll personally kick his ass,” Shea replies brightly.

“There’s no way you could take him on,” Rory says, squinting. “I love you, but there’s no way you would beat him in a fight.”

“That’s what you all think, and it’s why I would win,” Shea jokes.

Rory rolls her eyes, snorting. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

“Of course,” Shea replies, smiling brightly. 

Things get a little bit easier after that, but there’s still a distinct silence from Nate. As much as Rory wants to wave it off and not be hurt by it, she is. She’s starting to miss the smiley faces at this point because at least then, she knew that he was seeing her messages. But now… now she’s not really sure what to think.

She ends up calling Piper, knowing that her friend will get what she’s going through. And she also doesn’t want her friends in Denver to worry more than they already are about the whole situation.

“Honestly, I don’t think there’s much else you can do unless you want to barge into his apartment,” Piper says after Rory explains everything.

“I can’t do that,” Rory replies, frowning. “I don’t want to force him to hang out when he doesn’t want to.”

“Well, he’s not responding to anything, stopping by won’t hurt anyone,” Piper suggests. “I mean, you’ve been there before.”

“That’s just different,” Rory sighs. “Maybe this is his way of saying he doesn’t want to be friends anymore.”

“Something tells me that you’re wrong about that,” Piper says. “I mean, you said everything was fine the last time you hung out together, right?”

“Yeah,” Rory answers. “Like, I knew he was busy and he said he would try to not drop off the map, but…”

Piper snorts. “That obviously didn’t work out. But are you sure you can’t just stop by or something?”

“It feels like a step too far,” Rory whispers. “Like, I don’t want to seem desperate for attention or anything. I knew he was going to be busy and that I wouldn’t be a top priority, you know?”

“I - shit, that doesn’t sound great,” Piper says. “Maybe just give it until after the playoffs. If he doesn’t say anything afterwards, it’s definitely time to move on.”

Rory sighs. “You’re right. I just feel like I fucked up somewhere and I don’t know how.”

“To be honest, I don’t think there’s anything you could have done differently.”

“I suppose so.”

“Look, I’ll be here anytime you need something, no matter how stupid it sounds. Take care of yourself, babe,” Piper says. “Now, tell me about work? What’s the new hot gossip?”

The conversation moves on to lighter topics and Rory feels lighter after hanging up. She’s still worried about Nate, but there’s nothing she can do about it all now. Whatever happens next, Rory still has her friends and that’s what matters the most, even if she wishes it could turn out a bit differently.

As the weeks drag on, Rory still hears nothing from Nate. It starts to hurt less the more she accepts that he’s never going to respond. Piper suggests going to his place again, but it feels wrong intruding on Nate when they haven’t spoken in months. He’s giving clear enough signs at this point that he wants to be left alone.

It’s early June when Rory hears about the Avs winning the Stanley Cup. She’s happy for them, for Nate, even if they haven’t had a single conversation in ages. They worked hard for this and deserve the numerous celebrations that’ll be coming in the following days. 

There’s a moment of hesitation Rory has about sending a congratulatory text to Nate. She’s not sure if it would come off as weird or anything, but she decides to send something anyways. Despite everything, Rory wants Nate to know that she’s proud of him and how hard he’s worked to get this. The silence in the following days isn’t surprising, but something about it still hurts Rory.

“It’s because you care too much,” Blair says at their usual Friday night ritual, smiling sadly. “And he had a chance to say anything, but he didn’t.”

“I don’t know what I was hoping for,” Rory whispers.

“Maybe you were hoping for him to be a decent person,” Ashton snorts. “You’ve given him more chances than he deserves.”

“Like I’ve said before, I’ll kick his ass,” Shea offers. “Dude probably deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“I appreciate it, but he deserves this,” Rory says. “He’s worked hard.”

“Worked harder at breaking your heart though,” Ashton mutters.

Rory rolls her eyes. “It���s fine, I really should have expected this from the start, if I’m being honest. I was pushing my luck even being his friend.”

“No, I don’t think you were,” Blair says firmly. “He was lucky to have you in his life at all.”

“Yeah, he’s the one losing out,” Shea says, smiling. 

“You guys are the best,” Rory whispers. “I’m sure I’ll forget about him after the summer is over. Lord knows we have our work cut out for us with all these new jobs.”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” Shea groans.

“Aren’t you the one handing out all the work?” Ashton teases. “I don’t think you have the right to complain about this.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Shea sighs.

Thankfully, the conversation moves past Nate, something Rory is incredibly grateful for. Whatever this summer holds, hopefully getting over him is in the cards for her, even if it pains Rory to think that. There’s no point left in worrying about someone who doesn’t care to respond to her texts as much as she wants to.

Rory’s workload over the summer piles up, which is to be expected for this time of year. Summer is always busy, especially with all of the interns coming through the office. She tries to help them as much as she can, but it makes for some long days. Even though it leaves her exhausted, it also lets her slowly get over the initial hurt of Nate. Besides, she remembers being in their shoes and it’s the least she can do to be nice to them.

By the time October and the start of a new NHL season roll around, Rory feels less bitter and far removed from the whole thing with Nate. But there’s still a small part of her that’s filled with regret and longing for what could have been. She would be lying if she didn’t think about all the things she could have done differently, but didn’t out of fear. It’s too late to change things now, though, and she does her best to not think about it in her weakest moments.

“You know, I never realized how much they plaster Nate’s face all over the city until this year,” Shea comments one Friday night. “Like… do we really need to be seeing his face that much.”

Rory snorts. “You sound more mad about it than I do.”

“Yeah, because you won’t let yourself be upset,” Ashton points out.

“Because I’m not upset,” Rory replies, rolling her eyes. “I promise I’m over him, okay? Like, it wasn’t going to go anywhere.”

“Uh huh, sure it wasn’t,” Blair says, giving Rory a pointed look. 

“Look, it’s been months at this point, I don’t have anything to be hung up on,” Rory groans. “Do you want me to prove it or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” Shea says. “Like… are you over him enough to go to a hockey game?”

Rory squints a bit at him. “Are you challenging me?”

“Maybe so,” Shea replies, smiling. “So… how does next week sound?”

“Let me guess, you already got tickets?” Rory inquires.

“You would be right,” Shea answers, smirking. “If any of us catch you longingly staring at him, it’s game over and we’ll have a proper night to drown out our sorrows.”

Rory sighs. “Fine, I guess.”

As the game day approaches, Rory can feel herself growing more and more nervous. While she feels confident about the fact that she’s gotten over the worst of it, she’s not sure how she feels about seeing Nate. Seeing him in person feels odd - especially at a game, where she only ever went to specifically see Nate. But she does her best to assure herself that she’s strong enough to get through one game.

When they grab their seats the following week, Rory doesn’t feel much better. She knows her friends can tell, but they’re being kind enough to not say anything. If anything, Rory wants to prove to herself that she can get through this without being weird about the whole situation. Besides, their seats are rather far back and she tries to reason that it’ll make things easier.

However, she turns out to be very, very wrong when Rory sees the players skate to their bench before the game starts. Her heart drops and feels a twinge of panic seep through her bones. Even though she knows that there’s no way Nate will know they’re here at a game, she fears that he’ll just know and get angry for intruding.

“Are you going to be okay?” Blair whispers.

“I - I think so,” Rory answers softly. “I need to get through this for myself.”

“It’s not too late to leave, it’s really not that big of a deal,” Blair reasons. “I promise none of us will be mad if this is too much.”

“I just - I want to show myself that what happened isn’t that big of a deal, okay?” Rory replies firmly.

Blair frowns. “Okay, but if it gets too much…”

“I’ll let you know,” Rory says, smiling softly.

As the game goes on, Rory can feel herself feeling more comfortable with seeing Nate. Something about seeing him just helps seal the deal, and Rory decides that he’s not worth being sad over as much as her heart says otherwise. By the time it’s over and everyone is leaving the game, she feels a bit lighter.

“So… how are we feeling?” Ashton inquires innocently.

Rory smiles. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“I mean, I hope you’re happy, But the sky is still the sky without you, And I’m not surprised by that anymore.” — Caitlyn Siehl

As the months pass and as Rory makes it through another Denver winter, she starts to forget about Nate. There’s still times where she thinks about the possibilities, but she’s moved on and passed the worst of it. She has other things to worry about, like a new promotion at work and trying to catch up with all of the new responsibilities that come with it.

“Who the hell decided that I was the best person to be put in charge of the interns?” Rory groans one early spring morning. 

“You helped them anyways, we just decided to make it official,” Shea snorts. “Now you officially get to be the mother hen.”

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Rory teases.

Shea lets out a loud laugh. “It’s been a whole week, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Rory says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “God, I never realized how many fucking applications we got. How the hell am I supposed to choose?”

“Drunk darts?” Ashton suggests as they pass by Rory’s desk. 

“The fact that I briefly considered that…” Rory says, sighing. “I might take a look at them on Monday because I feel like my brain is melting.”

“Welcome to the club!” Ashton replies cheerily. “At least today is Friday and we can all drown our sorrows together.”

“Cheers to that,” Rory sighs. 

By the time they get to the bar that night, Rory feels completely exhausted. She loves her work, but her newfound responsibilities have been a lot to try and handle. It only made the Friday night ritual all the more welcome and she had an even better understanding why her friends started it in the first place.

“You know, I never expected to be in this position when I graduated,” Rory remarks.

“What, working in the field you specialized in?” Blair inquires, confused.

“No, like...being in a place I genuinely enjoyed working at. I feel like it’s such a long shot and I never expected to stay here this long,” Rory explains.

“Well, it just means you were meant to end up here,” Ashton says smiling.

“I suppose so,” Rory replies, smiling softly. 

None of them process the door opening until Shea starts frowning a little bit. Rory turns a little to look, and feels herself freeze a little when she spots Nate. She spins back and tries to not think about how they're in the same space again for the first time in months.

“Fancy seeing him again,” Shea remarks bitterly. “Can I punch him if he comes over here?”

“We’re not getting kicked out of our favorite bar,” Rory groans.

“Fine, I guess,” Shea sighs. “Only for you, though.”

“Only because I’m here, right?” Rory asks, giving him a stern look.

“No, most definitely not,” Shea answers, trying to not smile.

“Whatever, we’re ignoring them,” Rory says. “I want to have a good time and it doesn’t involve him.”

“Even if he’s staring us down?” Ashton inquires, trying to be quiet.

“Please tell me he’s not,” Rory groans.

“Unfortunately he is,” Blair responds, with a hint of bitterness. “You know what, maybe it’s time we change up bars, try something new.”

“But we’ve been coming here for years, I don’t want to leave just because that asshole is here,” Shea complains. “I don’t want to hunt for another one!”

“Maybe it’s just for one night,” Rory says weakly. 

“Do you think the bartenders like us enough to kick out several NHL players?” Ashton inquires innocently. “I mean… I know they have money, but we’re also like… regulars.”

“Might be a long shot,” Blair answers, sighing a little bit.

“He’s still staring at us,” Ashton mumbles. “I kind of just want to leave. Maybe we can stop by the diner right down the road instead.”

“Maybe that can be our thing for a couple weeks to throw him off our trail for a bit,” Shea replies. “And also so I don’t punch him.”

Blair snickers. “That sounds like a solid plan. Let’s go.”

As they head out, Rory chances a glance over at Nate. He’s watching them leave with a frown on his face. Before he gets any ideas on coming over, she looks away, trying her best to seem closed off. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem as if he follows them, so she relaxes as they walk over to the diner.

“This feels weird,” Rory comments as they grab a booth in the back corner. “But I’m glad to be away from him.”

“Do you think he would have tried to talk to you?” Blair asks, concerned.

Rory shrugs. “I mean, maybe, but I don’t see why he would bother at this point. I haven’t seen him in almost a year now.”

“Maybe he’s just now realizing what he lost,” Ashton suggests hopefully.

“Well, it’s staying lost,” Rory snorts. “I really can’t be bothered to fix things with him. He’s had time to say something, but he hasn’t.”

“You really wouldn’t give him a second chance?” Shea asks, raising an eyebrow.

Rory pauses for a moment. “I want to say no, and I think I would in terms of a romantic relationship. But… he was a good friend and it was sad losing him in that sense, you know? And I would want him to work on himself too. Like, I can’t have him dropping off the face of the planet again.”

“I get that,” Blair says softly, smiling sadly. “Maybe one day.”

“Maybe,” Rory sighs. “But also, I think we were headed for heartbreak, there was no other option. I mean… we’re two very different people.”

“But you worked well together,” Shea said. “And that’s the saddest part about all of this.”

Rory shrugs. “It’s over now. There’s no point in caring anymore.”

They end up changing subjects, sensing that Rory is truly done thinking about Nate. Seeing him outside of a hockey game was a weird experience and everyone felt a little bit off balance from it. By the end of the night, Rory feels better, and tries to push any thought of him aside. Whatever reason he came to the bar tonight, she hoped he got the message - that Rory no longer needed him in her life.

The following morning when Rory checks her phone, she feels herself freeze. Looking right back at her is a text from Nate. She hesitates before opening, knowing that whatever it says can’t be good. There’s a moment where she thinks about deleting the message and blocking him, but her curiosity gets the best of her.

I was hoping to talk to you last night, but it looks like you were busy. Maybe we could meet up some other time to clear things up?

Rory can’t help but to laugh. After a year, Nate finally wants to talk? The audacity he has thinking that Rory will just talk to him willingly after everything is too much for her to handle. He’s had plenty of opportunities to fix things, but going about it this way just makes everything even worse.

No, I think I’m good. You made it very clear where I stand in your life.

Rory tosses her phone to the side before seeing if Nate replies at all. Whatever he has to say to her won’t change her mind, not now. Before she can think anymore, she grabs her phone again to call Piper. It’s been a long time since they’ve talked, but Rory trusts her the most right now, knowing that her friend will be the solid voice of reason right now.

“Something tells me something is up if you’re calling me this early on a Saturday,” Piper jokes. “Normally you’re hungover at this point.”

“You’re the worst,” Rory groans. “But you’re right.”

“I’m always here for you. Now, tell me all about it,” Piper replies. 

“Well, uh, Nate finally texted me after a whole fucking year asking if we could talk,” Rory says bitterly. “And this dude had the audacity to stop by the bar last night. We ended up leaving because of him.”

“I can fly down and punch him if you want me to,” Piper suggests.

Rory snorts. “I think that Shea is first in line for that.”

“We can take turns then,” Piper says, smirking. “But seriously, how are you dealing with that? Have you blocked him?”

“I - no, not yet,” Rory answers. “I told him it was too late to fix anything.”

“So… just ignore him after this. Unless you want to talk to him.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that. There’s so much I want to say to him, but I never thought that it would be like… an actual option.”

“Then just think about it. And he can wait for as long as you need him to. It’s what he deserves after dropping you like he did.”

“I feel like that’s letting him win, though,” Rory whispers.

“There’s no winning in situations like this, especially if you let him feel all of your anger and frustrations. What he did was shitty and wrong, and he deserves to know all of that before he does it to someone else,” Piper explains. “And I know how worthless it made you feel.”

“I didn’t -” Rory tries to say.

“Don’t you dare say that you didn’t feel that way. You called me crying multiple times that summer. He hurt you and he deserves to know that,” Piper says firmly. “That is, if you even want to talk to him.”

“I don’t know,” Rory says softly. “I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of talking again, but I also want to let him know how shitty he made me feel.”

“Maybe that’s all that needs to happen. One conversation doesn’t mean you’re letting him back into your life. It can maybe help put an end to this part of your life.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Piper sighs. “I’m sorry you had to see him again, though. I can’t imagine what that all felt like.”

“I’m just lucky I was with friends,” Rory replies. “But thank you, Piper, this helped a lot.”

“Keep me updated, okay? I want to know if I need to knock some teeth out,” Piper jokes.

Rory snorts. “Of course.”

Once they’ve hung up, Rory quickly checks her phone to see if Nate has replied. He still hasn’t, so she decides to continue on with her morning, trying to not think of him. As right as Piper is about having a conversation to try and put an end to anything having to do with Nate, the thought scares her. She knows that there’s a very real possibility that she lets him into her life again, knowing that she misses his friendship.

But she doesn’t want to let herself give in so easily. Nate hurt Rory in ways that she feels like she’s still recovering from. It’s terrifying that he was able to hurt her like this, and the more she thinks about it over breakfast, the more comfortable she gets with telling him all of this, as long as it’s on her terms.

She ignores her phone for the rest of the day and decides to focus on cleaning her apartment instead. It’s been a while since it’s been properly cleaned and she knows it’ll help keep her mind off of Nate. So, she puts on some of her favorite music and proceeds to get lost in her chores. Before she knows it, her stomach is loudly grumbling, and Rory notices that it’s now mid-afternoon.

As she grabs some stuff for a late lunch, she decides to chance looking at her phone. Her heart drops a little seeing several texts from Nate, but Rory opens it before she can think twice about it. She has to read it a couple times before it fully processes what he said.

I’m sorry I broke what trust you had in me as a friend and I want to fix that

In whatever way you see fit

I guess even if it means you never talk to me again. I just...I want to make everything better

Please

Rory pauses for a moment, and tries to think of a response. She wants to talk to him, to let him feel the full impact of how much he ruined her - but she doesn’t want to give him hope. No matter how apologetic he is, Rory doesn’t want to give him too much hope.

I want to talk, but on my terms. You deserve to know what you did to me

I hated you for a long time, Nate

Still kind of do, if I’m being honest

Just… give me some time, okay? I gave up on the idea of you a long time ago

Sighing, Rory puts her phone off to the side, and decides to try and eat her lunch in peace, but she keeps thinking about Nate. Whatever happens next, Rory wants to be ready and confident in what she wants to happen next. At the very core of it all, she’s scared of letting Nate back in and history repeating itself.

If Nate wants to be in her life, she’s going to need to see that she matters to him. But as much as she wants that, Rory knows that it’s really asking for too much. It terrifies her that the thought keeps managing to weasel it’s way into her head, no matter how much she tries to ignore it. Blair might say that it’s a sign, but Rory really hopes that it isn’t.

Her phone buzzes, and she takes a deep breath before opening her phone. So far, Nate has been understanding, but that hardly means anything at the moment.

I understand completely

And I’m truly sorry I ever did that to you

Whatever it takes for me to show you that, I’ll do

You deserve that at the very least, Rory

Thank you, Nate. I’m sorry to make you wait a little longer

I’ll try to not take too long, but this is a lot

I would wait for you forever

Ah, getting poetic now

Maybe you have changed

I’ll take a while, but maybe not that long :)

:)

Rory sighs, but she feels good about not caving to what he wants. As much as she wants to fix everything, she also knows that she’ll regret it. Before she forgets, Rory also sends a text to Piper telling her what happened, knowing that her friend will want to keep tabs on the situation. 

Groaning, Rory also remembers that she’s going to have to tell her coworkers what happened as well. Even though they’ve talked plenty of shit, she knows that they’ll be supportive of her reconciling with Nate as long as it’s on her terms. However, she also knows that they’ll gladly make sure to keep him in his place.

When Monday rolls around, Rory can immediately tell that her friends know something is up. Thankfully, they don’t say anything, knowing that she won’t be comfortable talking about it at work. But they keep a close eye on her, like she’ll fall apart at a moment's notice. And maybe they’re right, she’s not really sure what’s held her together this whole weekend.

“So, care to spill whatever’s going on with you?” Ashton inquires, walking with Rory to her car.

Rory notes that Blair and Shea aren’t too far behind, and she sighs, accepting her fate of being cornered by all of them. They all eye her as she leans up against her car and lets out a huge sigh.

“Nate reached out to me to apologize for last year. He wanted to talk in person to let everything out, but I told him no for now,” Rory explains. “I want to talk to him, but on my terms.”

Blair frowns. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m not really sure, but I think I want to let everything out in the open, you know? Like, I want him to know how much it hurt,” Rory answers, shrugging. 

“Would you be meeting at his place?” Shea inquires, looking concerned. “Not that I think he would do anything, but like… that’s a lot of pressure.”

Rory pauses for a moment. “I think if we were to meet up, I’d want to do it at my place. I wouldn’t feel comfortable in his apartment. He can come to me.”

“Sounds like you already have a plan,” Ashton remarks, smirking a little. 

“It’s going to happen eventually, I think. I just want to be ready,” Rory says. “It feels weird hearing from him again, though. I was ready to let go, but seeing him last Friday was harder than I expected.”

“If this is what you want, we’ll support you in it, okay? I know we shit talk him a lot, but...he was a good guy while he was around,” Shea says seriously. 

“Thank you,” Rory says softly. “Now, enough digging around in my personal life, okay?”

“But what else is supposed to keep us entertained?” Ashton snorts. “You’re the one who was besties with an NHL superstar.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “You guys are the worst.”

“But that’s why you love us,” Blair replies, smiling widely. 

A couple more weeks go by before Rory thinks about messaging Nate back. There’s a couple nights where she almost caves and sends something to him - but she knows she’s not fully ready yet. It’s a late Friday night after a diner run with her friends that Rory feels like she’s ready to speak to Nate again.

There wasn’t a monumental shift that made Rory change her mind, but rather the fact that her heart stopped falling apart any time she thought of Nate. She thinks she’s ready to have a conversation with him because in the end, she’s not sure if she wants it to be anything more than that. 

Against Rory’s better judgement, she sends a text to Nate, fully knowing that he won’t reply until the morning. And that feels safer in a way. He won’t be able to ask questions that she isn’t ready to answer quite yet, at least not over the phone.

I want to talk soon

At my apartment, though

I’d feel better being in a space I feel comfortable if we’re going to be talking

And honestly the sooner the better, if you don’t mind

I want to get this over with

With that, Rory plugs in her phone and tries to fall asleep. Instead, she keeps herself up, thinking of all the things she wants to tell Nate. She wants to let him know how much he hurt her when he left without a word, but still leaving his trace in her every thought. By the time she falls asleep, the sun is just peeking over the mountains, signaling a fresh start.

When Rory wakes up, she pauses, unsure if she wants to check her phone. But she knows that waiting won’t help anything, and it’s best to just check. As she suspected, there were a few texts from Nate. Taking a deep breath, she opens them and skims over the messages.

Whatever makes you feel the best

And I can come over tomorrow night if that isn’t too soon

But I’ll wait for as long as you need me to

Rory pauses for a moment, unsure if it would be too soon. But she did say she was ready, and like ripping off a band-aid, Rory decides it’s best to just get it over with.

Yeah, I can do that. Before or after dinner?

Or during?

Whatever works for me

…..during dinner if you don’t mind

I miss your cooking

Was that too much?

I’m sorry

You better not just be reconciling bc of my food

But yeah, that works

I’m making curry though

Don’t make it too spicy

I’ll try my best lmao

But I guarantee nothing :’)

Rip to my taste buds then lol

But I’ll see you then

Rory takes a deep breath and tries to process the conversation. It felt weird to have Nate joke with her like nothing ever happened. In different circumstances, she would have laughed and teased right back, but it was too much too fast. Nate was picking up where things left off last year, but Rory isn’t ready for that. She’s not even sure she wants to be ready for that again. 

Only a moment later, it finally hits her that Nate is coming over to her apartment the following night. She screams into her pillow, and then sends off a text Piper and her other friends. No matter how tomorrow ends up going, Rory knows that she’ll be an absolute mess afterwards. The thought of seeing Nate in her space is terrifying, but it’s a fear she’s willing to face if it means that they’ll be able to resolve everything.

Before she knows it, Rory is pacing her apartment waiting for Nate to come over. Dinner is already made, due to the fact that she was trying to keep herself busy while waiting for him. As much as Rory wanted to prepare a speech for Nate, to make sure she said everything she wanted to, she also knew that she wouldn’t remember any of it the second she saw his face.

When she hears a loud knock on her door, Rory freezes for a moment. This is her last moment to back out, but she steels herself and goes to open the door. The second she opens the door, there’s a moment of silence, Nate and herself unsure of what to do. Seeing him here makes Rory feel overwhelmed.

“I - hi,” Rory greets weakly. “Um, come on in.”

“Uh, thanks,” Nate replies awkwardly, stepping into her apartment. “It smells good in here.”

Rory smiles a little. “Dinner is already finished. I, uh, got kind of nervous.”

“I can leave if you need more time,” Nate says, concerned.

“No, it’s fine. You just… make me feel a lot of things, I guess,” Rory explains. “Waiting even longer wouldn’t have helped anything.”

“If you say so,” he says, obviously not believing her.

“Well, I guess we can eat first and talk over food,” she replies. “Everything is in the same spot. Still haven’t moved anything yet.”

Nate snorts. “I’m not surprised. And I’m guessing nothing is on the top shelves still?”

“You’re literally the fucking worst, McKinnon,” Rory teases. “I can’t believe I invite you over for dinner and this is what you say to me.”

“Oh I - I’m sorry,” Nate replies, flustered. 

Rory rolls her eyes. “I’m kidding, it’s fine.”

Nate blushes and goes to get plates. They serve up their food in silence and go to sit on the couch. Neither really know what to say, so there’s a few beats of awkward silence. Rory can tell that he’s waiting for her to say something, not wanting to push her too far.

“For the longest time, I wasn’t sure what to make of you just… ignoring me,” Rory whispers. “I knew that playoffs were going to be a hard time. I mean, you already were terrible at replying to things during the season, so I knew the playoffs were going to be worse.

“But then you just… kept ignoring me, even during the summer. And it was hard to not think it was maybe my fault in some way that you kept ignoring me. Like I wasn’t useful or fucking interesting enough to keep around. That’s what hurt the most, you know?”

Nate looks absolutely broken at the confession. He sets down his plate, and Rory follows suit, knowing that neither of them are going to eat until after this is over.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” Nate says, voice breaking. “I was so scared of fucking up what we had that I thought it was better to stop talking to you. I figured that I had messed up things enough that you wouldn’t care if we stopped talking to me. Gabe tried to tell me otherwise, but I wouldn’t hear it.”

Rory laughs bitterly, trying to hold back her tears. “I cared so much about you Nate, and seeing you just go about your life made me feel so shitty. And it’s been a year now, and I’ve done so much to get over it, but now here you are… somehow, it feels just like it did last summer.”

“You were the one person I had outside of hockey, and I know that if I was just me and not ‘Nate the hockey player’, you would have liked me just as much. That made me so terrified to mess things up that I thought it was better to lose you sooner rather than later,” Nate confesses.

Rory smiles sadly. “In the end, you felt like ‘Nate the hockey player’, and I think that’s what hurt the most.”

“I - fuck, I never meant for it to turn out like this,” Nate says, choking back his tears.

“Neither did I,” she replies. “Seeing you that night in the bar, it scared me. I thought that I was finally over you, but that night showed me that you could still hurt me.”

“Is there anything I can do to fix this? I wanted to talk and I wasn’t sure if you would ever speak to me again.”

Rory pauses for a moment to think. “I don’t really know, if I’m being honest. I want to forgive you, but I’m scared of this happening all over again. My heart isn’t ready to be broken again.”

“Whatever it takes,” Nate whispers.

“Give me some time, okay? Tonight feels like a lot and I don’t know what to do now that you’re here. But I want to make sure that you actually talk to me, Nate. You can’t ignore me again.”

“I promise I’ll try my best. I just… get so focused on one thing, but I won’t push you away again, I swear,” Nate says.

“Okay,” Rory replies, voice breaking, with tears starting to fall down her face.

“Can I hug you?” Nate asks.

She nods, and he pulls her in, holding her tightly. Rory isn’t sure how long they sit there with her cradled in Nate’s arms, but it feels better than she wants to admit. Having him here like this is overwhelming, and she mourns the fact that things are going to be so very different now, no matter what happens.

“Thank you,” Rory says after a few minutes, voice rough from crying.

“Of course,” Nate whispers, slowly pulling back.

When Rory looks up at him, his cheeks are tear-stained as well, and something about that settles something within her. Something about it helps her feel like he missed her just as much, even if it wasn’t in the same way. 

“Our food is probably cold now,” Rory jokes, trying to lighten the mood up a little bit.

“Is that you hinting that you want me to go heat it up again?” Nate asks, smiling.

She laughs a little. “Of course it is.”

“Glad some things never change,” Nate snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’ll get right on it.”

The rest of the evening passes with lighter conversation topics. Rory talks about her promotion at work, and Nate talks about all the new rookies she has to meet soon. It almost feels normal, and it terrifies Rory. Seeing how well he fits back into her life is a lot, and she’s not quite sure how to handle it. She doesn’t want things to move too fast, not before she’s ready, but having these quiet moments back is making it difficult. 

“Thank you for having me over,” Nate says softly as he places the dishes in the dishwasher. “I’m glad we could talk again.”

“Me too,” Rory whispers. “Just… I want things back to normal, but I don’t want to be left behind again.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t,” Nate replies, confident. “Playoffs are happening again soon, and I’ll do better this time. I can’t lose you again.”

Rory smiles sadly. “You could always find someone else, though.”

“You aren’t replaceable, you know,” Nate comments. “You keep saying things like that, and I know you think I could, but I can’t.”

“You’re really making this hard, you know.”

“I just want to show you that you’re worth everything.”

“Still loving flattering people, I see,” Rory teases. 

Nate rolls his eyes. “And you still love to not accept my compliments. I’ll show you one of these days.”

“I’m sure you will,” Rory says, smiling. “You sure you don’t want leftovers?”

“I told you it was too spicy!” Nate exclaims.

“You think everything is spicy, though,” Rory snorts. “But I guess that just means more for me.”

“I guess so,” Nate says softly, smiling. “Well, I’ll talk to you soon?”

“We better talk soon,” Rory replies pointedly. “No falling off the map again.”

“Not this time,” Nate promises. 

Once he’s gone, Rory flops down on her bed and screams into her pillow. The whole evening didn’t feel quite real if she’s being honest. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, Rory feels herself getting to a place where she can forgive Nate. Tonight reminded her how easy they work together and everything felt… normal. It’s a terrifying thought, especially because if he doesn’t fall off the map again, Rory can envision herself falling in love again.

When Rory walks into work the next morning, she can feel her friends’ eyes on her. She knows that they’re going to interrogate her after work, so she doesn’t mention anything the whole day. Thankfully, they don’t mention anything either, but they definitely keep an eye on her.

“So, emergency meeting at the diner tonight?” Ashton inquires innocently during lunch. “Seems like there’s something going on.”

Rory huffs. “Yeah, an emergency meeting sounds good. There’s a lot I need to catch you up on.”

“Sounds fun,” Ashton replies, smirking. “I’ll tell everyone else about our plans.”

“Thanks, Ash,” Rory snorts. 

When everyone finishes up for the day, they all make their way to their new spot. Thankfully, nobody mentions what the meeting was for, but Rory has a feeling that they already know what happened. Once they’re all seated in a booth towards the back of the diner, everyone turns to look at her.

“I feel like I’m being interrogated for a crime,” Rory jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

“Did you commit a crime?” Shea asks innocently.

“Not that I know of,” Rory says weakly. “But I did meet up with Nate last night. He came over last night for dinner.”

Everyone gives her a questioning look, so she launches into her recap of the night. They all listen patiently as Rory stumbles through it all. Even though they let her talk, she can tell that they’re all concerned.

“So, uh, yeah, that was it,” Rory says, finishing explaining. 

“Are you sure that you’re okay with this?” Blair asks, genuinely worried. 

“I think I'm as ready as I’ll ever be. Seeing him last night made me realize how much I missed him in my life,” Rory answers. 

Blair frowns. “But if he doesn’t do better, are you ready to let him go again?”

“I’m going to have to be, aren’t I? I don’t think I really have a choice in the matter,” Rory replies. “But I think I want to give him the second chance.”

“So… I can’t kick his ass on sight now?” Shea jokes. 

“I don’t think so,” Ashton sighs. “What a shame.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “You’re all the worst.”

“We love you too,” Blair replies, smiling. “I’m glad that you were able to talk to him, though. Even if this all doesn’t work out, you got to talk it out.”

“Yeah, it was nice,” Rory whispers. “Hopefully things turn out a bit happier this time.”

"You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have."  —  F. Scott Fitzgerald

As playoffs and summer rolled around, Rory was pleasantly surprised at how much Nate texted and called her. Even though this is what she was hoping for all those months ago, it felt odd to hear from him so much. Seeing tangible evidence of Nate trying his best to be better felt like too much to take in sometimes, even if it was something small, like making sure that Rory was taking care of herself during the busy workdays.

The only downfall to this is that Rory can feel herself falling back in love with Nate. She tries to push back on it, and tries to ignore the fluttering feeling every time she sees his name pop up on her phone, but it’s hard. Knowing that Nate was making an effort for her caused a tidal wave of feelings, ones that she’s certain aren’t reciprocated.

“I think you’re fooling yourself, you know,” Blair states one Friday night. “Like… he’s putting in so much effort to reconnect that he has to feel something.”

Rory frowns. “I don’t want to get my hopes, I’ve only just gotten him back. And it’s reading too much into it, right?”

“I’m inclined to back up Blair on this one,” Ashton says. “The dude probably has a million friends, but the fact that he missed you so fucking much, even after a year…”

“But he also ignored me for months,” Rory points out. “We all agreed that was fucking terrible, and I doubt he would do that if he was into me.”

Shea shrugs. “That’s definitely a possibility, but… just think about it, okay? I know it’s too soon, but it could be worth a shot eventually.”

“I’m not going to be the one to fuck things up,” Rory says. “I’m just happy we managed to work things out.”

“If you say so,” Ashton replies. “But do you think things are going to be worse once he comes back to Denver?”

“I’m really trying to not think about that,” Rory mumbles. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine. I was doing fine before.”

“Well, we’re all here if you need it,” Blair says, hesitant.

Thankfully, her friends let the subject drop, but Rory knows that she hasn’t heard the last of it quite yet. As much as she wants to be completely open with Nate, she’s terrified of making things awkward between them. It’s only been in the last couple of months that they’ve gotten back to their easy camaraderie they had before.

When September rolls around, Shea insists that Rory invites Nate out to a Friday night bar run. After Nate happily accepts for the following week, Rory starts to feel nervous. She knows that her friends are probably going to give him a subtle shovel talk, and she’s honestly not quite sure how she feels about it. As appreciative she is about her friends looking out for her, Rory also doesn’t know how Nate is going to feel about it.

“You can’t be too mean to him,” Rory states as they all walk to the bar. “I can’t have you scaring him off, okay?”

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Ashton says cheerily, smirking a little.

“Good lord,” Rory mutters. “At least wait until he’s had a drink or two.”

Shea shrugs. “I think we can manage that.”

By the time they get to the bar, Nate is already there, having grabbed their usual table. Rory warms at the thought of him remembering something like that. Once they all grab their seats, there’s a few beats of silence, nobody quite sure what to say first.

“It’s been a while, good to have you back,” Shea greets, eyeing Nate up. “Good job on winning the cup last year. Rough you couldn’t do it again.”

Nate laughs nervously. “Thanks, we tried our best. Just happy to get to the playoffs again, though.”

Ashton snorts. “We’re not the media, dude. You can be pissed off if you want to be.”

“I - I mean, it’s true,” Nate says weakly. “It was hard getting so close and not winning it again. But, uh, what do you want to drink? I figure the first round can be on me.”

The group looks at each other in pleasant surprise, but lists off their drink orders. When Nate goes up to the bar, they all watch him like a hawk. As Nate’s waiting for their drinks, a girl walks over to Nate, obviously flirting with him. He looks caught  off-guard for a moment, but then smiles brightly, appearing to flirt back. Rory’s friends look to her in concern, and she does her best to shrug it off. It’s not like her and Nate are dating - they’re truly just friends, even if her feelings say otherwise.

“Rory....” Blair whispers.

“I told you, we’re just friends,” Rory whispers harshly. “It’s not that big of a deal, he can do whatever he wants.”

Blair frowns, but doesn’t say anything as she notices Nate walking back with their drinks. Despite what Rory is feeling, she knows that she has no right to be jealous over Nate. They’ve both made it very clear that they’re just friends, and Rory isn’t inclined to mess things up now, not when they’ve just got each other back.

“Sorry it took so long, I just got distracted talking to someone,” Nate says, blushing faintly.

Shea raises an eyebrow. “Did you get a number?”

“Oh, uh, no, I’m here to hang out with you guys tonight,” Nate answers, flustered. “And, uh, I’m not super interested in hooking up right now. I have other things to worry about.”

“Riiiight,” Ashton replies. “So, what have you been up to since you left us last?”

“Not much really, just a lot of practice and games. I also moved into a proper house again since my apartment was feeling a little small,” Nate explains.

“Wait, really? You were just starting to make your apartment look good,” Rory teases. “Am I going to have to give you decorating advice again?”

“I - no, I have everything covered,” Nate defends. “Besides, it was never that bad!”

“Uh huh, whatever you want to say,” Rory says, laughing.

“I mean, I did hear plenty of horror stories from Rory. We’re here to support you,” Ashton says, smirking.

Nate pouts. “I can’t believe I paid for all your drinks and you all gang up on me like this.”

“Don’t worry, it just means we like you well enough,” Shea replies, smiling brightly. “But honestly, you’ve just been up to hockey? That sounds kind of…boring.”

“It’s what I do every summer,” Nate mumbles, obviously embarrassed. 

“He has to keep up his reputation, don’t worry,” Rory jokes.

“At least you have my back,” Nate sighs. 

The rest of the night passes in a similar lighthearted manner. By the time everyone is getting ready to head out, Rory feels pleasantly warm and slightly more drunk than she normally gets. It’s just been nice to be back with Nate in the way she always remembered too fondly. She wants to tell him that, so she looks around, trying to find him.

But her heart drops when she sees the girl from earlier heading over to Nate. Rory glances away and continues following her friends out of the bar. They all look behind her expectantly, thinking that Nate is still following her.

“He’s, uh, talking to someone. I think we’re good to head out,” Rory says, trying to smile.

“Rory…” Blair says softly. 

“No, no, it’s good. I don’t get to be jealous or mad over this. I’m just a little bit drunk,” Rory whispers. 

“Okay, I’m driving you home. Your car will be fine in the staff parking lot over the weekend,” Blair sighs.

“Thank you,” Rory whispers.

The car ride to her apartment is silent, neither wanting to broach the subject. Thankfully, Blair helps Rory to her bed, but before Blair can leave, Rory holds her close and starts sobbing. Rory really isn’t sure how long they sit there with Rory crying into her friend's shoulder, but by the time she pulls back, Blair’s shoulder is wet from the tears.

“Are you really going to be okay?” Blair asks quietly.

“No,” Rory answers, voice rough. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“You never really stopped loving him,” Blair states.

Rory laughs bitterly. “I don’t think I did. And I hate him for that.”

“I still have a couple of friends that might be interested, you know,” Blair comments, joking.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rory snorts. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re one of my best friends, of course I’m here to help,” Blair says. “Maybe call Piper in the morning, okay? She always seems to knock the most sense into you.”

“That… is too true,” Rory sighs. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you on Monday,” Blair says before heading out.

Once Rory hears the door shut, she sighs deeply. It scares her that just seeing Nate flirt with someone had this effect on her. She knows that she shouldn’t be hurt if she isn’t willing to confess her feelings because of course Nate is going to find someone else. He’s a professional athlete, it’s not like he doesn’t have options.

And Rory has to accept that she’ll never be an option - even as much as she wants to be. Nate put so much effort into reconnecting because he wants to be friends again, not because he ever loved her in any non-platonic sense of the word. It hurts, but Rory will learn to get over herself as long as it means keeping Nate in her life. She lost him once, she refuses to have it happen again.

When she wakes up the next morning, she feels a bit gross, and as she remembers the previous night, Rory doesn’t feel much better. But she also knows that she should call Piper, knowing that her friend will want to know what’s going on.

“Hey sweetie, what’s up?” Piper asks in lieu of a proper greeting. 

“Um, so you know how Nate and I have been becoming friends again? I think I might have fucked things up and fallen in love with him,” Rory confesses. 

“Does he not love you back? I’ll come and kick his ass,” Piper says. 

“I don’t think he does,” Rory whispers. 

“Wait, why do you make it sound like you don’t know for sure?”

“He was flirting with someone last night and we agreed to be just friends.”

“Are you sure that he could have just said that to make sure you were in his life no matter what? He could be just as scared as you are about saying something.”

“Why would he be scared of me?” Rory inquires, confused. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not something replaceable? You are worth so much, and I think Nate knows that,” Piper says firmly. “You should tell him, Rory.”

“I only just got him back, though,” Rory whispers.

“Just… think about it, okay? I really think it could be something good if you gave it a chance.”

“I’m not ready yet,” Rory says softly. “Losing him again would feel… god, it would hurt even more than before. It would tear my heart out, Piper.”

Piper takes a deep breath. “I think Nate loving you has been so subtle that it’s hard to see at first. But I think it’s there, for all that it matters.”

“I hate this so much,” Rory sobs, not able to hold back the tears. “I can’t love him anymore, Piper. I can’t handle this.”

“You can, babe, I know you can handle this,” Piper says soothingly. “If he really doesn’t love you back, then there will be someone else to love you just as much as you love everyone else.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do. You deserve it.”

“I hate that, even now, he has me crying over him,” Rory whispers. 

“I’m sorry I can’t be there for you, but I know you’ll figure it all out soon enough. Now, is there anything else fun you can update me on?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Rory says, grateful for the distraction.

By the time Rory hangs up, she’s feeling a bit better. Even though Piper seems to think that Nate has feelings for her, Rory refuses to mess things up again. She’s willing to keep her friendship with Nate, even at the cost of seeing him love other people in the way she wants for herself. As much as she doesn’t want to, Rory thinks it might be time to ask Blair about her friends.

Despite coming to that resolution, it still takes Rory several days to build up the confidence to ask Blair about it. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, something about it feels like she’s giving up on Nate. But she’s cried over him enough now, and she accepts that it’s time to move on forward from her feelings.

“Wait, so you’re… actually interested?” Blair inquires, obviously unsure. “Or are you doing this just to get over Nate?”

“A little bit of both, if I’m being honest,” Rory answers. “But I have to put myself out there eventually. I can’t keep putting it off.”

Blair frowns a little. “Well, if you’re totally sure, then I can set something up. Do you remember Jacob from the holiday party last year?”

“Yeah, he seemed fun,” Rory says, already knowing where this is going.

“He was definitely interested in you, but I knew you were still going through it with Nate, even if you didn’t want to admit it. But if you’re up for it now…”

“I’m definitely up for it now.”

And this is how Rory finds herself going on a coffee date with Jacob the following Saturday. It’s definitely awkward at first, but once they find their stride, Rory finds herself enjoying her time. They spend hours talking about anything and everything. By the time the date is over, Rory feels tentatively hopeful about the whole thing.

Once Rory gets back to her apartment, she notices a text from Nate asking if she wants to get dinner with him. She hesitates - she doesn’t want to ruin the happiness she felt earlier today with all of the confusing feelings Nate brings with him. But that’s also not his fault, so Rory says he can come over if he brings takeout. 

Nate sends a smiley face and that he’ll grab food from her favorite diner on the way. While Rory waits, she tries to calm herself down. Her date with Jacob was good, and he was genuinely interested in her, not something she could say for Nate. Before she knows it, she hears Nate knocking on the door.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Rory greets as she lets him in.

“You replied late today. Rough night at the bar last night?” Nate teases, setting the food down in the kitchen. 

Rory blushes. “Oh, uh, I actually went on a date today, so that’s why I didn’t reply.”

“That’s, uh, that’s great,” Nate says, smiling a little. “Was it a good one?”

“Yeah, we had a great time. I mean, it was pretty chill, but it was nice to get to know Jacob a bit more,” Rory explains. “We actually met last year at the company holiday party.”

“Oh, I’m glad it went well,” Nate says awkwardly.

“Are you okay?” Rory inquires, confused. 

“Yeah, of course, just a bit tired from practice, I guess.”

“If you say so. Now, did you get the usual?”

Nate snorts. “I’m a creature of habit, what else do you expect?”

Things lighten up a bit after that, the awkwardness slowly disappearing the longer Nate hangs out. Rory’s really not too sure what to think of it, but she takes it worth a grain of salt. If he says practice has been exhausting, then she’ll just take his word for it. 

The weeks pass and Rory goes on more dates with Jacob, even to the point of bringing him to this year’s holiday party as her date. Nate hardly asks about him anymore, but Rory takes that as him not really being into her romantic life. She can get that, especially since she hardly ever asks about his dating life as well, even if it was because she was scared to hear the answer.

All of the careful walls Rory has built recently all fall apart on a Saturday afternoon. Jacob is over for lunch, and he seems to have a serious look on his face. Rory doesn’t think much of it at first, thinking it must be something work related that he’s still hung up on.

“Are you feeling okay?” Rory inquires softly. “Looks like you’re doing a lot of thinking over there.”

Jacob smiles softly. “I - well, I really hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but are you in love with Nate?”

“Am I… what?” Rory replies, freezing. “Where did you get that idea?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him the couple of times we’ve gone to games, and just the way you talk about him…” Jacob explains. “It’s okay if you love him, but I really don’t think we should be dating if that’s the case.”

Rory pauses for a moment, thinking over her answer. “I lost my chance with him a long time ago, and… I’m still trying to get over it, I guess.”

“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he loves you back,” Jacob says, smiling sadly.

“That would be a nice thought,” Rory replies, trying to laugh. “But I promise I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t want to.”

Jacob sighs deeply. “You’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to have you. And if Nate doesn’t realize what he has, he’s a fucking idiot. But I think you need to figure out your feelings first.”

“Are you… breaking up with me?” Rory asks, voice cracking.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Jacob says softly. “I just think you need to say something to Nate because something tells me he won’t say no.”

Rory laughs bitterly. “You wouldn’t be the first person to tell me that.”

“Then maybe they’re right,” Jacob points out. “Look, this is just as hard as it is for me, but I’ve seen how you look at him. This is the healthiest thing for both of us to do, okay?”

“Shit, you’re right, I know you are,” Rory groans. “It just fucking sucks.”

Jacob smiles sadly. “Things will get better soon, I promise. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

“Yeah, of course,” Rory says softly as Jacob heads out.

As sad as she is over what happened, Rory knows that Jacob is right. Despite how much she enjoyed being around him and doing things with him, there’s still a small part of her that’s hung up on Nate. And in the end, that isn’t fair to either of them in the long run. 

It also makes her think about how honest she wants to be with Nate. He’s going to want to know what happened between her and Jacob, but she’s not sure if she should tell him exactly why. The thought of telling him everything is terrifying, but if there’s any chance that he could feel the same way, even after everything that’s happened…she’s not quite sure what to make of it all.

When Monday rolls around, she asks her friends for an emergency meeting at the diner after work. They all look a bit worried, but agree to not ask any questions until then. If anyone could talk sense into Rory, it would be them.

“So… what’s going on?” Ashton inquires once everyone is piled into a booth.

“Jacob broke up with me because I’m still in love with Nate,” Rory confesses in a rush. “And… I don’t know what to do.”

“I - well, that’s a lot to unpack,” Shea replies. “I thought you were over Nate.”

Rory snorts. “So did I, but I think I was ignoring my feelings because I had Jacob. And, uh, that’s obviously not very healthy at all.”

“Are you going to tell Nate about them?” Blair asks innocently. “Because I think he deserves to know. And if things don’t work out, maybe you can finally move on.”

“I - honestly, I really don’t know,” Rory whispers. “I know it’s probably the right thing to do, but it scares me. The thought of him rejecting me hurts more than I want to admit.”

“I know I’m a huge advocate of saying things when you’re ready, but it might be time to do something about it,” Blair says. 

“Yeah, we all love you, Rory, and it hurts seeing all of this happen,” Ashton replies. “Just consider it, okay? And if things go to shit, we’ll be ready with junk food and shitty wine.”

Rory smiles sadly. “Thanks, guys, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Things lighten up a bit after that, but Rory feels a bit better. Asking Nate to put in effort to try and make their friendship better only makes sense if she’s doing the same. Sure, this has the potential to ruin everything, but it’s not any better to keep her feelings trapped up either, especially if her heart is out on her sleeve. 

Despite coming to this conclusion, Rory avoids Nate for as long as she can. She’s still afraid of rejection, of being officially told that he doesn’t feel the same way. Blair does her best to encourage Rory, and it’s not like Nate’s going to accept being ignored, not this time. Eventually, it comes down to Nate coming to Rory’s place unannounced for them to meet up.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Rory greets as she opens the door for Nate.

“I was getting worried about you,” he replies, frowning. “But everyone said that you were just really busy.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s been a bit hectic. I’ve been starting to open the internship applications for the summer, so there’s a lot of stuff to focus on,” Rory explains with uncertainty as she leads them to the couch.

“I’m not intruding, am I?” Nate inquires, frowning.

“No, of course not,” Rory answers, taking a seat next to him. “Um, I guess I’ve also been a bit out of it because Jacob broke up with me.”

“Oh,” Nate says, shocked. “I - shit, are you okay?”

Rory feels her heart pounding in her chest as she decides to confess and lay everything out in the open. There’s going to be no going back after this, but she has to be brave for just this one moment.

“I think I will be,” Rory says quietly. “He actually broke up with me because he thinks I’m still in love with you.”

Nate freezes for a brief moment, looking like a deer in headlights. “And… are you still in love with me?”

“Yeah, I am,” Rory whispers. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but could never fully admit it to myself.”

“What a coincidence,” Nate says, laughing a little. “Because I’m in love with you too. I’ve been trying to get over you for so long, but it always comes back to you. Losing you the first time was terrifying.”

Rory gives him a confused look. “Why did you never say anything? I would have said yes.”

“You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me and the thought of fucking it up… I couldn’t handle it, so I focused fully on playoffs. Gabe tried to get me to say something, but I thought never seeing you again was better than hearing no,” Nate explains.

“I can’t believe we’ve both been so dumb,” Rory says breathlessly.

“Can I kiss you?” Nate asks softly.

“Of course you can, you idiot,” Rory answers, just as soft.

When he leans in to kiss her, she feels a brief moment of disbelief that it is actually happening. But it’s so much softer than she was expecting as she leans into it, holding onto his shoulders to try and ground herself. As Nate pulls away, Rory feels the immense loss, even though he’s right in front of her.

“I waited so long to do that,” Nate says. 

“Same here,” Rory replies, giggling. 

“Um, would it be rushing if I asked you to be my girlfriend already?” Nate asks, nervous.

Rory shrugs. “Maybe, but it’s a yes anyways.”

“That’s good,” Nate whispers before kissing Rory again.

“When I go towards you, it is with my whole life.” — Rainer Maria Rilke

It’s summer again in Denver and Rory has taken to staying over at Nate’s place more often than not. He decided to come back early this year to spend more time with her to make up for lost time. Rory was flustered at first, knowing that it was disrupting his usual routine, but he was insistent that she was worth it.

Rory rolls over and curls into Nate, who’s still surprisingly in bed. He kisses her head softly, causing her to smile. It’s rare that they cuddle together in the morning with Nate’s training schedule, so she enjoys every moment she can.

“Good morning,” Nate says softly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just enjoying this,” Rory mumbles. “Thought you would be gone by now.”

“This seemed a little bit better than working out,” Nate jokes. 

Rory laughs and adjusts to look up at him, smiling widely. Nate leans down to give her a quick kiss before setting his phone back down on the nightstand. In this moment, Rory feels the most content she’s felt in a long time. Everything just… feels right and she doesn’t want to break the moment.

“What are you staring at?” Nate asks, trying to not laugh.

“You,” Rory answers, smiling a little before giving him a quick kiss.

“Mmm, morning breath,” Nate mumbles, kissing her back. “Also didn’t realize I was that nice to look at.”

“Well, you are. And I’m just really happy,” Rory states. 

Nate's eyes crinkle as he smiles widely and goes to kiss Rory again. They get lost in each other and the slowing of time that only an early summer morning can bring. This time, Rory pulls away, knowing that they have other matters to take care of today. She knows that there will be plenty of other moments like this to enjoy now that they have forever ahead of them.

“You promised that we would go furniture shopping today,” Rory says.

“Ugh,” Nate groans, pulling her up to kiss her jaw. “I don’t want to though.”

“We can’t keep putting this off forever, though,” Rory points out. “I’ll just keep bugging you until we do it.”

“Why can’t I just give you my credit card? It’s not like I’m going to be any help,” Nate points out.

“But I want you to be there,” Rory replies, smiling. “I like being around you.”

“I’m sure you won’t be saying that two hours into furniture shopping. There’s a reason why I made my mom do all the shopping.”

“And I love your mother, she made some very good choices. But it’s… kind of empty here, isn’t it?”

Nate sighs. “Fine, I guess I can go. Just this once.”

“I love you,” Rory blurts out, then immediately freezing. 

“Oh,” Nate says softly, seemingly surprised.

“I - sorry that’s probably too much,” Rory whispers. 

“But you meant it?”

“Of course I do. You’re one of the best things to happen to me, Nate. I know things have been hard before this but...I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Nate stares at Rory for a moment, trying to process everything. He reaches over and holds her face, stroking her jaw before giving her a quick kiss. 

“I love you too,” Nate confesses softly as he pulls back. “I’m so sorry I left you the first time, but I promise to keep making it up to you, no matter what.”

Rory laughs a little, before smirking. “And now you can make it up to me by going furniture shopping with me.”

“I guess it’s not going to be so bad with you if it means I get to keep you around.”

“Good answer, babe.”

“I’m going to make some coffee, but take your time.”

Rory hums a little. “Okay, I’ll be out soon.”

Once Nate is out of the room, Rory takes a deep breath. Despite being together for months now, he still manages to set her off balance in the best of ways. There’s brief moments where none of this feels real to Rory - she still has times where it’s hard to imagine Nate being happy about dating her. But hearing Nate tell her that he loves her...something about it settles some of her worries about their relationship.

The smell of fresh coffee finally tempts Rory to roll out of bed and throw on one of Nate’s old t-shirts in place of her pajamas. As she makes her way to the kitchen, she also hears the sizzling of bacon and Nate cracking some eggs. This brings a small smile to her face, knowing that this means Nate is going to try and push for a lazy morning as long as possible.

“You look nice,” Nate says, smiling. 

Rory rolls her eyes. “I don’t look any better than before.”

“Ah, I think that’s where you’re wrong,” Nate remarks, giving her a quick kiss. “You -”

“Always look better with my clothes on,” Rory finishes, smiling. “I think you’ve mentioned it a couple of times.”

“Still true, no matter how many times I’ve said it,” Nate says. “I’ve got breakfast going, so you can just grab some coffee and relax.”

“This is nice,” Rory replies softly. “It’s not going to get you out of shopping today though.”

Nate sighs, laughing a little. “It was worth a shot.”

“You should feel lucky that I’m going furniture shopping for a place I don’t even live in, though,” Rory points out. “Like, I’m not even going to fully enjoy everything I pick out.”

“You could though,” Nate blurts out, immediately blushing.

“Are you… implying something here?” Rory inquires, raising an eyebrow. 

“Um,” Nate says. “I was just thinking you could, uh, maybe move in with me to fully enjoy whatever you pick out.”

“Babe, you literally just told me that you loved me this morning,” Rory snorts. “I appreciate the offer, but this is a lot right now.”

Nate groans and hides his face in Rory’s shoulder. She laughs a little, knowing how embarrassed he’s feeling right now. Ever since they’ve started dating, he’s gotten a lot better at communicating, even if it means blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Look, my answer isn’t a no,” Rory says. “I still have my lease for a little less than a year, but after that, we can talk.”

“Okay,” Nate mumbles before pulling back. “I’m sorry for being too much.”

Rory smiles. “I don’t mind it, you know that. But if you ever want to back out of the offer…”

“I’m not going to back out,” Nate pouts.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, babe,” Rory says, smiling. “Now make sure the bacon isn’t burning, okay?”

Nate smiles, kissing her softly. “Okay, can do.”

This might not be how Rory was expecting her morning to go, but she’s grateful for it nonetheless. Being here with Nate likes this is more than she could have asked for this time last year, and she’s never felt so lucky.

[carissimipaixao]

─ T̷̞̾̌H̴̩̃͊Ȓ̴̡͙̰̄̿Ō̷̰̮̉̈U̸͗͛͜G̷̛̟̥H̷͎̿͛ ̴̝͔̍ͅT̷̡̘̙̋͒̓H̴͓͑̾̚E̸̼͕͊ ̶͚͙̬̍̅Ŵ̵̠̮O̸̬͊͝R̸̭̋̒̎L̴̥̺͎̋͆̑D̷̻̟͔̀͝L̸̼̈́́͋ͅḮ̵̺́N̵͓͖̪̕Ĕ̸͇͂͠S̵͓̤̑̓

published on: september 23, 2021

pairing: okabe rintarou & reader

word count: 1.8k+

gif credit: me!

note: had this laying around and thought it’d be a stupid idea to let it go to waste. so, here you ago! by the way, this is a crossover with loki (2021), because, while rewatching steins;gate zero, something clicked in my monkey brain.

additional note: everyone (but okabe) is speaking english, thus the western-style of okabe’s name popping up here and there. no loki involved, i’m afraid. just good ol’ mobius and the tva, whose building i still don’t know or understand.

The intercom on the desk beeps.

Mobius immediately reaches for it, although his gaze never strays away from your own. ‘Yes?’

‘We’ve got an issue.’

The man’s shoulders drop with a heavy sigh. ‘We always have an issue. What’s the issue?’

‘A prisoner has escaped.’

You raise an eyebrow, unable to keep the interest and curiosity from your face. Mobius notices. He puts the intercom away as he stands. Mobius walks around the table and pulls out a key. Once your handcuffs click open, he ushers, ‘Time to go.’

‘And where are we going?’ You ask, rubbing your wrists.

‘Well,’ he starts, ‘if there’s something I’ve learnt from you, it’s that you can’t be left alone for too long.’ He winks and knocks twice on the table, before moving to the door. ‘Let’s move.’

You don’t hesitate.

As you scroll through the hallway, meeting the skeptical but wary eyes of many soldiers, Mobius reaches for his intercom. ‘Who are we looking for, exactly?’

‘Rintarou Okabe,’ a hunter replies. You raise your head at the name, and you swallow dry. ‘A variant from Beta Worldline.’

‘Oh, at least it’s not from Alpha,’ he chuckles. He turns to you, mouthing “crazy”. But, you don’t care enough to ask for an explanation.

No. Suddenly, all you care about is wrapping your hands around the throat of that one variant. No matter the worldline, no matter the timeline, he is still the very same — the same scumbag who has blessed your days with blood and scars.

‘What do we do?’

‘Track him,’ Mobius says. ‘But, whatever you do, don’t engage with the variant.’ His gaze is back on you. ‘I have a plan.’

‘What are you planning, exactly?’ You snap, narrowing your eyes. ‘If you think I’m going to help you—’

‘I’m afraid you don’t have much choice, D6.’ The man is already inside the lift, holding the door up for you.

You have already stopped walking, crossing your arms. ‘What makes you so sure I won’t just kill him?’

The sudden question makes him hum in thought, before he tilts his head and points to the collar around your neck. ‘That will keep you from doing as you please. I know how you feel about Rintarou—’

‘You don’t know shit.’

‘I know a lot of things about you,’ he says, but his tone makes her believe he has said that line many times before. He pauses, staring at her face. ‘But, looking at you now, it’s clear to see you are dying to see what this is all about. You want to see a familiar face, because you find comfort in what’s familiar and close to you. Isn’t that why you joined the organization?’

You tense up.

‘Right, sore spot,’ he mumbles. ‘Well, come on. The quicker we find him, the quicker we can go back to our pretty game of twenty questions.’ The intercom begins beeping once again, and he instinctively reaches for it but doesn’t answer at first. No, he keeps staring at you with this expectant look on his face. ‘What do you say?’

You glance to the side, only for a moment. You are curious to know where you are and how this whole place works. You want to know what the hell is the TVA and who is behind it, just so you can go home — once and for all. Most importantly, you want to know why Okabe, of all people, would be here. Then again, perhaps he was here for the same reason as you were. For a crime against the sacred timeline.

Whatever that means.

You finally respond by entering the lift and watching the doors close in silence.

Mobius, next to you, answers the intercom, smiling faintly.

‘Sector Nine,’ the same hunter quickly announces. ‘He is moving towards the Northern balcony. We are keeping a safe distance from the variant.’

‘Good job,’ he praises. ‘We’re on our way.’

The older man presses a button, and the elevator quickly begins its descent. You take a deep breath, clenching your fists by your sides — your normal reaction to when you are nervous or anticipating conflict. Mobius glances at you, observing, but turns back to the doors. For some reason, the silence feels welcoming. But, it doesn’t last long.

As soon as the doors open, a robotic voice welcoming you to Sector Nine, Mobius all but rushes down the hall, having turned right. You follow him closely, rolling your shoulders, and observe the multiple posters that line up the walls, as well as small monitors which display the current state of various worldlines.

‘Here’s what I want you to do,’ Mobius begins. ‘I want you to approach the variant, and I want you to be calm.’ He gives her a look.

You frown. It’s as if you’re being scolded by your mother, all over again.

‘Chances are, Rintarou will see you and think you’re just your Beta self. He will calm down, he will let you get closer.’

‘Do you really think he can be that easily convinced?’

‘If you play your role right, which I know you will, then yes,’ Mobius reassures. He places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you as you approach the end of the hall. ‘I want you to get close to him. Make him calm down, and just be patient and selfless.’

‘I’m not—’

He shushes you gently. You pause, and his lips turn upwards into a smile. ‘Despite what you’ve gone through with the organization,’ he starts, his voice lowered into a soft whisper, ‘I know you haven’t changed that much. I know you’re still you, deep down.’

Who are you, exactly?

The man suddenly presses something onto your hand. ‘Be careful.’ He raises his hand towards the entrance of the balcony and nods approvingly. How can someone you have never met in your life and, yet, someone who seems to know you so well be so positive? How can Mobius, despite knowing your deeds, be so encouraging, expecting the best of you?

He may be disappointed.

You peek around the corner, through the arched doorway. You swallow, upon seeing a figure stand in what appears to be awe and shock. Your eyes roam the figure, up and down, and, as they fall upon the messy hair, you recall the faint memory of grabbing onto those black locks, shoving his head back and pressing a knife to his throat.

Take it easy, you tell yourself.

You step out of the hall and quietly begin to walk into the room. The variant remains oblivious to your presence, and you know it is due to your training and experience when it comes to sneaking behind your targets. He exhales shakily and he leans to support his weight against the railing, his head dropped.

The sight makes you stop.

Somehow, you have never seen him look so defeated.

You understand that he may be feeling just as lost as you are, but, there is something about Okabe — about this variant, you remind yourself — that pulls slightly on your heart strings. He looks like he has given up, like he is ready to embrace whatever is thrown at him.

It unsettles you.

You glance over your shoulder and find yourself sharing a look with Mobius, who gives a firm nod before disappearing around the corner once again. You roll your eyes and turn back to the variant. You take another set of steps forward, although, this time, you are bolder. And, it earns you the response you had expected.

He spins around, his eyes wide and fearful.

You frown, tilting your head to the side. ‘...Okabe?’

The young man opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a strangled breath, broken and confused. Even from the distance between you two, it is easy to see how he shakes.

You slowly approach him, your eyes fixated on the way his body grows even stiffer, on the way his eyes wander across your face, down your body. He seems to be in search of something, you conclude. But, you’re more worried about his stance, about how he may react to you.

You don’t know him, not as much as you feel like you know him, despite how similar they look. In the man that stands in front of you, you see nothing, however, that reassembles that blunt and cold person that you have been fighting for a long time. There is no emotionless stare, no chin held up high, no weapon in hand. He looks normal, perhaps as normal as both of you would have been — or perhaps how you are in another godforsaken worldline.

He calls your name, and the vulnerability makes you flinch.

‘What—why?’ He mutters. 

You only feign a gentle smile.

He stares at you, as if he is looking directly into your soul. You begin to think that, as you had suspected, he knows you are not who he thinks you actually are. But, the silence is killing you, more so than the pain that is clearly visible in his eyes. Something must have happened.

‘Okabe,’ you call.

Somehow, those words make the young man’s walls finally crack and, before you know it, his arms are wrapped around your body. You are stiff in a flash, but he doesn’t appear to notice. No, he is more preoccupied with pressing his face against the crook of your neck, as he leans against you.

‘You’re here,’ he whispers, breathlessly — and you hear his voice crack. ‘You’re here and you’re safe.’

‘From what?’ You ask, lowering your voice. Yet, despite Mobius’ request to play your role, you find yourself unable to embrace the man, even if your heart has broken a little bit. Maybe, you look just like your Beta variant, but you would never allow yourself to be as passionate and vulnerable as she.

Especially to him.

He still hasn’t answered your question; instead, he presses his face harder against your skin and you feel something wet dripping down your neck. He’s crying, you realize. But, why?

‘Okabe,’ you slowly raise your arms. ‘Everything’s okay.’

He sniffs, refusing to move away.

‘It’s okay,’ your lips curl into a calm smile. ‘Sleep.’ The Beta variant of Okabe pauses, and you repeat, ‘Sleep.’

When he opens his mouth, a confused sound escaping through, it suddenly morphs into a strangled scream.

He goes stiff and begins to fall back, his muscles completely paralyzed. You only watch, clear disinterest in your eyes. Okabe gasps for breath, as he lays on the floor. ‘W-what?’ He attempts to speak louder and clearer, but you realize that whatever tool you just used is too strong for even someone as Rintarou Okabe.

‘Sleep,’ you say the same word, and your voice is harsher, your eyes colder. His gaze is stormy — confusion, betrayal, shock. You don’t know which one hurts you the most, but you tell yourself that you aren’t supposed to care, even if he was a low variant of your enemy. ‘Sleep, Okabe.’

Mobius appears by your side, and both of you tower over the Japanese young man as he tries to fight off the inevitable. His eyes swin between you two, but, before he can say anything, they close and his body finally stills.

‘Good job, D6.’

[sunnysviolin]

currently having so many thoughts about aubrey getting sick of her moms mess one day and packing her bunny into her carrier and just leaving... she drifts about friends houses for a while before basil braves up to ask if she's okay :(( she's all out of energy + too stubborn to go home so she doesn't bother arguing and lets him take her to see polly (sorry me again with aubrey ramblings pls tell me to shush if you dont vibe w it)

Wow....I love this so much so I’m gonna combine it with that ask I got the other day and noodle on this a bit. Hope you don’t mind me taking your idea and running nonnie!!!

This got really long and kind of intense, so I’m putting it under a Read More. There’s also gonna be way more ahead!! This AU has caught me. But y’all Serious warning for emotional child abuse and neglect. Aubrey’s mother is decidedly not a good person, and their relationship is very damaged. Read only if you know you mentally can handle it, and no shame in skipping this. This part of it is heavy.  TW: Child abuse and neglect. TW: Alcoholism TW: Running Away TW: Homelessness

In the end it’s the rain that does it. The rain, the drafts in their weary old house, and the bucket that sits in the corner of her room next to her half broken laundry basket

On the last night Aubrey spends in her mother’s house the rain is coming down in freezing icy sheets. It’s bitterly cold, and she is weary. 

The summer of her 16th year has come and gone, and they are firm into the grip of September. It was a summer that had changed everything in her life. A summer where she found her way back to her chosen family, while becoming more isolated than ever from her real family. She had spent almost every hour out of the house- riding scooters with her gang, reconnecting with Basil, finding her way back into Kel’s loyal heart, letting her walls down around Hero, even discovering a hidden strength within her to forgive Sunny.  

It was the best summer of her life, even beating out the perfect summers spent in her childhood with Mari. In those days Aubrey had been naive. She didn’t know what she had, she just assumed she would always have it. This summer she had seen every experience for what it was- a gift. 

Fall coming had been difficult. Really almost nothing had changed, except it had. 

Hero had gone back to college, promising to visit at every chance he could. Aubrey had pushed down the spike of jaded denial that had risen up inside her at his words, and put her arm around Kel who was misty eyed saying goodbye to his brother. 

Sunny had spent most days in Faraway at either Kel or Basil’s house over the summer, but now he only came on weekends. He had started school again, a new school where no one knew his name or his face. He didn’t say much about it, but he hadn’t stopped going yet, so Aubrey considered it progress.

Kel and Basil had stuck close to her, and she was thankful for it. Aubrey knew now that nothing would ever separate the five of them again, but there was still the irrational fear inside of her that they would all leave her sooner or later. Her gang must’ve seen something too, because they had been awkwardly affectionate in a way that both irritated and comforted her.

But her mother....

Her mother had changed too. 

By sixteen Aubrey knew her mothers rhythms like the back of her hand. She knew the cycles that played out. Her mother would circle through various moods- cleaning, ignoring, depressing, drinking, regretting, promising, and then cleaning again. 

The regularity of it all had numbed her to the terrible conditions of her childhood home, and Aubrey spent most of her time out of the house anyway. (She had never been so grateful for nine hours at school, four hours after school goofing off in a big group, and the usual invitation to dinner with Polly or Kel’s mother. Aubrey usually only went home to sleep these days)

But her mother had added and taken away from her cycle. There was a new cycle now, and it was impossible to deal with. 

Ignoring, Depressing, Drinking, Angry, Regretting. Rinse and Repeat. 

Angry was new. Angry was (terrifying)....Angry was new. 

Aubrey had never tried to disrupt her mother’s cycle before, but Angry was enough to get her to try. She would clean the house top to bottom, putting in an effort she had never put in before to make things nice. She had thrown away bottles, cleaned dishes, cooked food, on and on all in an effort to change what she knew was coming. It still came. Her mother still wailed like a banshee, shrieking and hollering loud enough neighbors had called. 

The calls were the worst part. The low humiliation that sat in her stomach as she assured these people who didn’t really care that everything was fine, all while her mother continued to scream in the background. 

With Angry, Regretting was also different too. Aubrey, never one to take things lying down, screamed back until angry tears burst from her eyes. She would break down and sob in front of her mother, her walls finally ripped apart brick by brick by the woman who was supposed to love her most. 

Then her mom would hold her tight and promise things would be different. Regretting had mixed with Promising, and as much as Aubrey wanted to shove away the confusing affection, she couldn’t bring herself to. 

Screaming at each other was the only time that Aubrey’s mother looked at her. Curled in her mother’s arms weeping was the only time that her mother had a kind word. Aubrey couldn’t resist what she always craved, and some sick twisted part of her even longed for the point where her mother would snap and start yelling, just because she knew the release of emotions was soon to follow. 

That last night in her house was one of those nights. Her mother was yelling, too incoherent for Aubrey to even make out the words, but the tone said everything. Her mother had lost it over the dishes in the sink piling up. Aubrey had done them this morning, yet somehow she came home to a sink full of chipped dirty dishes. Those dishes felt like an ironic symbol of her life. No matter how many times she wiped it away. The dishes would be dirty the second she turned around. 

Aubrey was already in tears, her fists bunched at her sides and her teeth grinding down against each other. Soon enough it would be time for her to start yelling back, and the cycle would go on and on and on. The dishes would never be clean. 

Aubrey didn’t want it to go on. Not even her mother holding her was worth how torn apart her heart was becoming. She fled upstairs, slamming the door to attic and locking it tight. It didn’t matter anyway. By this point of drinking, her mother could barely stand, let alone climb a ladder. 

The rain was slamming against her windows, a steady drip already starting in the bucket in her room. It was freezing cold, and goosebumps rose on her bare arms. Maribelle was sitting in her pen, her nose twitching as she watched her Aubrey. Aubrey brushed at her damp cheeks and picked her bunny up, snuggling the tiny white creature close to her chest. 

Maribelle was too cold. Her mother hadn’t paid the heating bill again. The rain was too loud, and the wind sneaking in wrapped Aubrey in a tight grip. Aubrey sat on the edge of the bed and rocked her bun, trying in vain to warm them both up. A single thought ran through her head over and over

This wasn’t worth it. This wasn’t worth the love she craved from a woman who couldn’t give it. This wasn’t worth her pride at keeping things together. This wasn’t worth trying to fix over and over with no results. 

The rain began to slow to a quieter drizzle. Her mother was silent below. In the cold wet of her tiny attic room, Aubrey decided. 

No. This really just...wasn’t worth it. 

Aubrey slipped onto her knees, keeping Maribelle close as she pulled her backpack towards her and began to empty it out. She kept only her English textbook and her history notes. Everything else she could get a spare of. in her bag went two spare shirts and one pair of jeans. She packed in underwear and socks into the smaller front pouch. Aubrey stood and pulled the false bottom out of her desk drawer, taking the cash and the pack of cigarettes she had pinched off her mom and throwing them in as well. 

Finally there were the pictures. The frame of her photo of her and Kim had to be abandoned, but the actual picture was placed carefully inside her backpack. She had never been more happy to have her tiny carrier for Maribelle. The bunny happily hopped inside and burrowed deep in the soft downy blanket Aubrey put inside for her. 

It was depressingly easy to pack up her important things. Shockingly simple to write a note to her mother (I’m leaving. I’m not coming back. Two short sentences and that was it) It hadn’t even been hard to sneak out. After the hour or so it took to gather the rest of her necessities from the house and steal whatever money was in her mother’s purse, said woman had passed out on the couch in an alcoholic haze. 

Aubrey locked the door and stared at the silver key gleaming in her palm. She had only her backpack, a messenger bag, and her tiny bunny carrier. Her whole life fit into two bags. Aubrey left her key on the doorstep. 

She wouldn’t need it anymore. 

The rain had let up, but a harsh breeze whipped around her as she walked, pushing Aubrey to move faster. She took the sidewalks she had taken since she was little, letting her feet move as her mind went blank. Before she knew it she was standing on another street, one more familiar to her than her own. 

Aubrey spared a long look at Kel’s hosue. The lights were on inside, bathing their front yard in a warm golden glow. She stared at it for a moment, considering, and then the chill became too great. 

Aubrey bypassed Kel’s house and quietly snuck into the backyard of Sunny’s old home. The elderly couple that owned the house now was sure to be asleep. Kel said that they were quiet and almost never noticed anything going on. Perfect. 

Aubrey knew exactly where she was going. It was still standing. Faded and beaten down, probably rickety too, but it would be safe for her and her Belle. 

Besides only four other people even knew this treehouse existed. No one would ever find her here. 

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Gibbous Chapter 9

Chapter Title: The Thought of Fresh Meat Is Making Me Ill

Summary:  It was October. A month full of cheer for the macabre. A month where humans gleefully wore the skins of those they saw as monsters. A month that Virgil generally enjoyed. It was the one month out of the year where he felt the most alive. Yet somehow, for this year’s October, he felt dead inside. Like his body had turned into the rotting corpse of a zombie and his soul was somehow still trapped inside.

Pairings: platonic lamp & platonic sleepxiety

Chapter Word-Count: 5503

Warnings:  Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Anxiety, Depression, Paranoia, Arguing, Disassociation, Sensory Overload (Yeah this one isn't gonna be a particularly happy one, Virgil Is Spiraling Mentally Big Time)

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Surprise b*tch, bet you thought you saw the last of me! I'm back for my yearly update--this chapter is dedicated to all the lovely comments people have left on previous chapter! Also!! I rewrote a significant amount of Crescent Chapter 3 and added onto Gibbous Chapter 5, the latter you might want to reread as it adds a bit to the opening scene of this chapter.

Chapter title taken from "I know I'm a Wolf" from the Young Heretics!

-

In books, there was always a perfect, logical sense of progression. Stories were generally told in a three-act structure. The setup, the midpoint and the resolution. The beginning of a story established the protagonist to the reader. It gave you details about their personality, their way of living, their wants and desires. Then the protagonist found themselves upended by an inciting incident.

Something that caused their way of living to never again be the same. Tension grew and grew as they sought to come about a way to continue living. Until it reached a climax, one where after which, they either thrived or withered away. In which case, the story ended as the protagonist returned to a new sense of normalcy.

One that would last until the next inciting incident came along to shake up their world once again.

Once one found this pattern, it was hard to ever see stories the same way again. There were certain things to always expect—things you could decipher before the story’s end. Real life, however, wasn’t quite like that.

Or at least this was what Logan had come to find. Sure, in many ways events in life played out like stories. There was an inciting incident, something that arose tension as one sought to solve the dilemma. It just wasn’t as neatly bound together like a story or even a math equation. Life was messy, complicated—it threw in plot twists or details that critics would claim lazy and unbelievable.

Logan was harshly reminded of this in the case of one Virgil Raine. He couldn’t understand—he was doing everything right, remaining patient and giving Virgil a chance to open up to Logan on his own time. Yet the human shied further and further away, all development he made since working at the library immediately erased. Virgil even shut out all notions of spending time outside work without explanation. It’d been weeks at this point with no result despite the attempts of Logan, Patton and even Remy, who was arguably the closet with Virgil.

Perhaps this was something that should be expected. Virgil rarely spoke about his past, but what little he shared, he had to fend mostly for his own from a young age. Whoever hurt Virgil caused him to believe again he couldn't rely on anyone but himself.

Logan was not a particularly violent person. He'd been ignorantly cruel once upon a time, yes, but even back then he wasn't one to have the urge to kill people. The wolfish part of him begged to differ, as always. His instincts howled at him to find that person and tear them limb to limb. Better yet, they demanded he snatch Virgil away and bring him against his will to the pack, to safety. As much as Logan wanted this, logically he knew Virgil might never fully trust Patton or himself ever again despite their good intentions. Illogically, he couldn’t bring himself to do the one thing he swore he’d never do again, even if it was for Virgil's safety.

He pondered this, sitting in front of a mountain of paperwork. It was late, too late for him to still be at the library. He couldn’t bring himself to move from his desk, not until he figured something out. He gnashed sharpened teeth in agitation, gripping his hair with claw-like fingernails. It didn't help that normally this time of the month, his cognitive thinking skills were usually in a different state of being. If he wasn't careful, the cleaning staff might find a wolf rampant in the library the next morning.

His phone rang just then, some meme-related ringtone Roman picked out that he’d found funny. Logan snatched it up and answered it.

“Patton, listen, I will be home soon I am just finishing up—”

“I’m not Patton,” The person on the other line cut in, “It’s me, Remy.”

“Oh,” Logan cleared his throat, thrown off by this revelation, “is something the matter?”

“Yeah, something’s the matter alright,” Remy said, his voice hoarse, “I fucked up big time with Virgil.”

 -

It was October. A month full of cheer for the macabre. A month where humans gleefully wore the skins of those they saw as monsters. A month that Virgil generally enjoyed. It was the one month out of the year where he felt the most alive. Yet somehow, for this year’s October, he felt dead inside. Like his body had turned into the rotting corpse of a zombie and his soul was somehow still trapped inside.

He supposed it had something to do with how September slipped from his fingers much in the way that his phone slipped from Jerad’s fingers. Falling all the way down, down, down, breaking upon the asphalt below into a million tiny pieces. Tried as he might, the memory haunted him in the waking world as well as his dreams.

 Only, in his dreams, sometimes it was him that fell to the ground. Like a shoddy version of Humpty Dumpty. Remy, Patton and Logan would try to fix him to no avail. They’d always leave, scoffing that it wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t cry or reach out towards them, begging for them to return. He could only lay there, broken and bleeding, watching as they abandoned him. Sometimes Roman showed up to gloat, mocking him for thinking they ever cared for him.

The worst thing about it? He knew it was going to happen in real life. It was only a matter of time. Even Jerad knew this.

“C’mon, you really want to hang out with them and not me, your friend?” Jerad scoffed, “what have they done for you? Have they helped out you when you couldn’t pay rent? Replaced your shitty phone for the best smartphone out there?”

“Well no but—”

“Face it, V-Man, they’re using you. They set you up with a new job, making you beholden to them and it’s sickening! They don’t actually care about you. Once they’ve had their fun jerking you around, they’ll just throw you out with the garbage. And I don’t want you coming to me, bawling like a baby, when it happens!”

As much as Jerad was a jerk, Virgil knew deep down he was right. He’d been so ecstatic at their displays of friendship, he didn’t even stop to consider it was all a façade. Maybe they themselves thought it was real, that they actually cared for him. But eventually they’ll realize the truth. That he’s a loser and nothing more.

Or maybe they already knew the truth and were merely toying with him. Virgil was just a human, mortal through and through. Remy, Patton and Logan were all near-immortal, unkillable save a well-placed piece of silver and a stake of wood in Remy’s case. At least with Jerad, he was honest. He knew Virgil was a loser and made it clear he only hung out with Virgil because it was better than nothing.

Jerad had been nice to Virgil lately—or nice as Jerad could be at least. He’d insisted on occasionally giving Virgil rides to and from work. An offer Virgil couldn’t refuse—no matter how hard his heart thudded against his chest with Jerad’s sharp swerves and his blaring car radio. He taken to asking about Virgil’s day even, asking where he’d been and what he’d been doing. He even took Virgil out to bars and clubs in an attempt to get him to loosen up.

Virgil wanted to tell him he’d rather set himself on fire than willingly enter a noisy nightclub. However every time his lips went to form those words, he found himself saying yes always. So that was how he found himself dissociating in a noisy nightclub, holding onto a pink-colored alcoholic beverage he faked taking a sip from.

A hand knocked jokingly against his forehead. “Yo, Virgin!”

Virgil blinked, his gaze blearily onto Jerad. It was hard to concentrate with all the flashing lights and loud music. He wanted to crawl underneath his beloved purple fleece blanket in his dark, silent bedroom and never leave. But he couldn’t leave just yet. Jerad had been nice to take him along to the club. If he’d asked leave now, he’d get upset. He knew eventually Jerad would get upset at him for something, but he preferred to delay that as long as possible.

“Yeah?” Virgil mumbled, curling his fingers tighter around the alcoholic drink that had been hoisted upon him. Jerad knew he didn’t like alcohol—it was something he ridiculed Virgil about constantly. He always insisted on Virgil drinking, saying he’d stop being a pussy and man up eventually about it.

“Are you high or something? You looked like you were seeing into the third dimension or something.”

Virgil shrugged. Jerad laughed at that, patting him on the back. Virgil tensed from each thud of Jerad’s hand, but he did not flinch or move away. It was a friendly gesture on Jerad’s part. If he wanted to really hurt Virgil, he would’ve put more force behind it.

“Probably not! You’re too much of an anxious wimp,” Jerad said, downing the contents of his drink, “but let me know if you ever get man enough to try it—your good friend Jerad has connections.”

“Okay.” Virgil said, his voice sounding far off in the distance to his own ears.

Jerad laughed again, and then started rambling about something probably among the lines of his most recent hookup, his parents being jerks for not giving him a new sports car or the latest college professor he deemed a complete idiot. Virgil stared at him, nodding all the right moments yet barely processed any of the words being directed his way.

 Even with lungs filled with air and a warm beating heart, Virgil felt nothing. He was nothing. A worthless sentient waste of space. Like an ugly mutt nobody wanted that should be euthanized to end its miserable existence.

His phone—the replacement one Jerad gave him—vibrated in his pocket. A text, no doubt from one of the others. The fourth one this night. Virgil’s hand twitched, refraining from looking at it in the presence of Jerad. Virgil didn’t feel like losing a second phone within a month of the first.

“Um, hey,” Virgil interrupted, wincing, “I gotta go use the bathroom, is that alright?”

“’Is that alright?’” Jerad mimicked in a high pitch tone, “Dude, is this elementary school or something? You want a hall pass? Me to hold your hand the whole way there?”

Virgil stared at him.

Jerad rolled his eyes, “Go ahead, whatever. I don’t care if you take a dump, just be quick with it.”

“Thanks.” Virgil bit out, running off before Jerad could change his mind.

He twisted and pivoted around the crowd of sweaty, glistening bodies wearing skimpy clothing. The bright neon lights and loud music warped around him like something out of a nightmare. Eventually he made it to the restrooms and locked himself in the nearest stall. The pulse of his heart roaring in his ears, he drew the phone of his pocket.

Four New Text Notifications from Patton

Patton: [Image of a black cat that looked approximately a year old. It appeared to be nestled close to Patton’s chest, staring up at the camera in wide-eyed stare.]

Patton: Look at what I found on my evening walk! Isn’t she the cutest??

Patton: I’m trying to convince Logan to let me keep her. Maybe you can come visit tomorrow and meet her??

Patton: It’s ok if not! I know you’ve been busy and I want to let you know I’m here for you, you can come to me about anything okay?

Virgil’s vision blurred a bit. He didn’t understand it. Why hadn’t Patton given up already? It’s been weeks since he’s sent Patton a text. He’d been terrified, too, really. And in the few times he ran into Patton at the library, he made excuses and scurried the other way.

Logan was at least kind enough to exchange a few pleasantries and keep their verbal interactions work-oriented. And Remy? They still delved deep into discussions about their taste in music but there was an awkward unspoken agreement not to bring up what happened that one morning. Virgil also shied from hanging outside of work, hoping Remy would eventually forget about him. It seemed to be working; Remy hadn’t offered to hang out in about a week or so.

But Patton? Patton seemed determined to stay in contact with Virgil, sending his dumb silly memes and cute animal videos. He sent good morning and good night texts, while making sure Virgil knew he could respond to them on his own time. On one hand, it made sense—this was the same Patton who saved a complete stranger’s life for literally no reason. On the other hand, he wished Patton would give up. It would made things easier, make it hurt less for everyone.

His phone buzzed with a new text notification.

Jerad: Dude, did you fall in or something?

Virgil swallowed, wiping away any stupid tears running down his face. As he typed a response to Jerad with shaky hands, the bathroom door slammed open, banging against the wall. He almost dropped his phone in the process, silently cursing at how close he’d been to breaking yet another phone.

Several loud booming voices filled the bathroom, peppered with obnoxious laughter every half second. Virgil shut his eyes, resisting the urge to cover his ears also in the process. The noise was too much. It was too much in the club outside, but all those voices echoing off the small crammed walls of the bathroom made Virgil want to scream.

The door creaked open yet again, the voices venturing away from Virgil. Good, they were leaving so Virgil could finally self-destruct in peace. Or so he thought, as a set of footsteps stopped abruptly, wavering. The club music blasted from the doorway, drowning out whatever discussion took place.

Then the door swung shut, the roaring club music muted once more. Virgil waited, breath catching in his throat as the single set of footsteps took a couple strides towards him. Oh god, this was how he was going to die, wasn’t he? This was probably some serial killer with an obsession of killing people in night club restrooms.

This was, of course, the moment his phone started vibrating in his hand. A call. Someone was calling him in the final moments of his life. Virgil looked down at the caller id; Remy. His heartrate spiked, dancing so painfully close to what a heart attack must feel like. Why was Remy calling him? Was he at last going to tell him he was done with Virgil forever?

Virgil almost wanted to ignore the call. But then he glanced at the black boots hovering near his stall and gave it a second thought. If this was going to be how his life ended, it’d probably be best to say goodbye to someone at least. Sucking a breath in, he pressed the green phone icon and held the phone to his ears.

“Hi?” He whispered.

“Hey Virgil,” Remy said, echoing oddly in Virgil’s ears, “what are you up to tonight?”

Virgil glanced down at the black boots menacingly close to his stall, “Umm, I’m just home, chilling.”

“That’s a lie, Hon. I know you’re hiding in a stall of this bathroom.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Remy sighed, sounding so similar to the person outside the stall, “Please, let’s talk face to face, alright?”

This was some sort of trick to lure him out of the stall, wasn’t it? Still, with the hand not clutching tightly to his phone, he reached out and unlatched the stall door.

Remy stood there, expression hidden under his black shades. His hair was slicked back with gel, shimmering with a glitter of some sort. He wore his iconic black leather jacket with a black crop top underneath. His whole outfit was black, in fact, down to his ripped jeans and the ankle-length boots. Virgil had seen him wear something similar before to a college event he’d taken Virgil to.

“W-what are you doing here?” Virgil demanded.

“I could ask you the same,” Remy responded, eyebrows raised above his shades, “this isn’t your scene, Virge. What are you doing here?”

“I’m not answering unless you answer.” Virgil said, trying to ignore how much he sounded like a toddler.

“A few of my homies from the art program wanted to celebrate the end of mid-terms. This is the night club most of the college body hangs at.” Remy crossed his arms.

“And how did you know I was in here?”

“A few keen observations,” Remy mustered a thin smile. He tapped his nose for emphasis before drawing his finger close to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened in understanding. Vampire senses, then. “But mostly, I’d recognize those faded converse of yours anywhere.”

“O-oh.”

“I answered your question, now it’s your turn, Virge.”

“I…” Virgil said, the rest of his words strangled in his throat. His phone buzzed in his hand; another impatient text from Jerad no doubt. He didn’t bother to look at it, choosing to focus on taking a breath in rather than going unconscious from a lack of oxygen.

He could tell Remy the truth. That he’d gone with Jerad—his roommate whom he used to complain to Remy about all the time. But then Remy would ask why he was with Jerad and then—well. Then Virgil would have tell him what happened the time he found him the night his phone broke and well, Virgil wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t tell Remy about his humiliating mistake.

“I…went here to have a good time completely by myself.” Virgil withheld himself from wincing because wow that didn’t sound weird or suspicious in the slightest, “So you can go catch up with your friends or whatever, I’m good hanging out right here.”

“Right here, in the restroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Honey,” Remy said, his voice washed with some emotion Virgil couldn’t identify, “Let’s ditch this shithole and go somewhere else.”

“W-what—but your friends—” Virgil stammered.

“—will be fine without me. N-G-L they’ll probably too trying to give themselves alcohol poison even realize I’m gone,” Remy shrugged his shoulders, “besides, you don’t seem as gucci as you say you are in here and it’s been a while since we really hung out hung out, y’know?”

Virgil stubbornly directed his gaze away from Remy, jaw tightening. It had to be okay, didn’t it? Jerad was most likely to get too drunk to even coherent colors, let alone that Virgil slipped off without him. Maybe he wouldn’t be mad. Maybe he wouldn’t fly into a rage and come close to hanging him off a balcony. Besides Remy would be even more suspicious if he said no.

Virgil sighed, holding the home button on the phone until it shut off completely. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with Jerad calling him, demanding to know where he’d disappear off to, despite ditching Virgil all the time without warning.

“Alright, fine.”

Remy smiled, his teeth looking a little too sharp for Virgil’s liking. Wordlessly he turned aside and reached for the bathroom door.

Virgil swallowed, shoving the phone in his pocket to be forgotten about. Tried as he might, he still flinched as lively blare of the club’s music and flashing lights greeted him with full force. He froze, cowering before the threshold of the door. A hand landed on his shoulder, soft and gentle.

“Virgil?” Remy asked, his brows furrowing together.

Molten lava settled in the pit of Virgil’s stomach—pity. That was the expression on Remy’s face he couldn’t identify at first. He didn’t want pity; Virgil knew what pity meant. He didn’t want pity of any kind, it reminded him too much of the foster parents that looked at him like he was some feral dog that could be whipped into obedience. And sure, Remy had never hurt him but it didn’t mean Virgil forgotten about that morning spent at Remy’s dorm a month back.

Eyes lit up with a burning, controlled fire. Words hissed through a clenching jaw, “Tell me their name and I’ll beat them up for you.”

If Remy was willing to hurt who he deemed as threats to Virgil, who’s to say he wouldn’t be willing to hurt Virgil? To reprimand Virgil, to let him know how much of an idiot he was being? It sounded absurd, even now, because he’d known Remy for almost a year. Remy had plenty opportunities up to now to do something and hadn’t. Yet he was a vampire; years were nothing to him. He had plenty of time to wait for Virgil to slip up in some way and make his irritation known.

And Virgil knew by now to expect the other shoe to drop in a relationship—it was why he distanced himself, isolated himself to solely to work and his cramped little room at the apartment. He was foolish to believe Remy, Patton and Logan were different. Logan and Patton especially—what was he thinking? Patton saved him, sure, but Logan had been hellbent on locking him in their basement for the eternity of time. Why had ever he allowed himself to accept their apologies, to believe something was going right in his life for once?

“I’m fine.” Virgil snarled, shoving himself forward. It was like marching into a warzone, the music assaulted his ears and rattled uncomfortably against his chest cavity. He grimaced, keeping his eyes towards the floor, away from the flashing lights. He stopped a bit before the ocean of bodies that stood between them and the entrance.

He knew if he looked up, he could make out the back of Jerad’s shirt from his spot at the bar. Stupid, this was so stupid. Why had he allowed himself to get talk into this by Remy? There was no doubt in his mind that Jerad would catch him trying to leave and rightfully demand why he was ditching him for Remy. It was a shit thing to do, after all.

Friends don’t ditch one another without explanation. Jerad left him, sure, but he always had an explanation after the fact. Virgil didn’t think Jerad would like his explanation very much. Especially when it involved Remy, one of the people Jerad had been trying to warn him about.

A hand gracefully looped itself around one of his own, tugging him off to the side rather than through the crowd. Virgil looked to see Remy guiding them towards a set of doors, ones clearly marked for employees only.

“Remy—”

“Shhh, this is a faster way outta here, trust me.” He said, flashing a smile. Perhaps it was meant to be comforting but for Virgil it only caused his stomach to churn.

Right before they made it to the doors, an employee materialized in front of them. “Excuse me, sirs, you’re not allowed back here—”

“Cindy, gurl, remember me, Lansing? Worked here last summer? Do you remember, yeah?” Remy lowered his shades to take a look at her. Virgil peered behind him, unable to view Remy’s face. He could see Cindy’s face, however. Her face pinched up in confusion, frowning, before abruptly smoothening out with a wide grin stretched from ear-to-ear. She looked right at Remy, her gaze shifting entirely off of Virgil as if he no longer existed.

“Lansing, oh! Oh yes, I remember.” Cindy said, with a high-pitched laugh. Virgil shrunk further back into Remy’s shadow, squeezing Remy’s hand tightly. Something was wrong and he didn’t like it. Remy never mentioned working as a bartender—and that wasn’t quite something Remy would be quiet about. Virgil could just  picture the outrageous bartending stories he’d have if that was the case.

Remy laughed along with her, light and airy.

“Good, then can ya do a fellow former co-bartender a favor and let us slip through, just this once?”

“Gurl, of course, just if you caught don’t let Gregory know I was the one that let you pass.” She leaned in conspiratorially, face twitching a bit.

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t see us again, in fact forget that you even saw us. I’d love to stay and catch up, but I bet you have things to do.”

She laughed again at that. “Yes, of course. It was nice seeing you, Lansing, but I have to go.”

Cindy hurried off, quickly dissipating through the crowd. Virgil blinked; what the fuck? What the fuck was that—

He didn’t even have time to process the encounter before Remy led them into the dimly lit back hallway of the nightclub. Whether it was a faster way out of the nightclub was debatable. For all his talk about previously working there, Remy seemed just as lost as Virgil in the winding hallway. He led them one direction, only to immediately pivot down the other way.

Remy wasn’t talking. Remy was always talking endlessly, as if speaking was as vital as oxygen to him. He was terrible at whispering too—something Logan would get on him about at the library. That was why he was usually stuck on front desk duty to speak with patrons, helping out at events or doing organizational work in the back office. For Remy to be this silent, like the brooding calm before a storm, well. Virgil’s lungs wanted to seize up right then and there.

Eventually, they made to a door that opened out to an alleyway, right where the night club kept its dumpster. The moon gleamed from her perch in the sky, nearly full but not quite. Like a cookie with a bite taken out of it. Virgil knew there was terms for the different phases of the moon. His mother loved taking him out to see the night sky. She’d point out the constellations and tell him what phase the moon that night was.

He wished he could remember, for her sake, what they were. Considering he knew actual werewolves, you’d think he pay better attention to it. But it was a topic Virgil never felt brave enough to venture and one that neither Patton nor Logan opened up much on their own about.

He stared at the moon, transfixed, that he almost forgotten the reason he was outside in the first place. Not until Remy murmured something before attempting to lead him off somewhere. The gaping dread from moments prior seized hold of him once more.

“No!” Virgil snapped, yanking his hand out of Remy’s grip. He stumbled backwards a few steps, slamming himself into a wall of the building in the process.

“Virgil?” Remy asked, frowning as he took a step  forward.

“What the hell was that back there?”

“What do you mean—”

“Don’t act stupid!” Virgil demanded, taking a shaky breath, “That lady—Cindy—you did something, I—I don’t know, she was acting weird! And—and you were acting weird! So I’m asking again; What. The Hell. Was. That?”

Remy stared at him, his breath hitching, “Virgil, I was just trying to get you to a quiet place ASAP before you—”

“You’re still not answering the question.” Virgil cut in, his intestines tightening themselves into knots over it. Because maybe this was just a classic case of Virgil paranoia striking again. Maybe he really was driving himself into a panic attack over nothing. Maybe he was accusing Remy unjustly.

Yet, if that was the case why would Remy flinch if Virgil struck him physically with his words?

“Virgil,” Remy said slowly, “I need you not to panic and hear me out, ok?”

Virgil’s heartrate accelerated. Not panic, not panic?! What did Remy expect but for him to panic at those words?

“Okay.” Virgil said, definitely panicking.

“What have you’ve heard about vamps?”

“That they—you drink blood. And your reflection doesn’t show up in mirrors—and—and if you get bitten by a vampire, you’ll either turn into one or get mind controlled.”

“All technically true, well I mean—there’s a fuck-ton more to the turning process than that—” Remy cut himself off, “That’s beside the point. The point is, what you call mind-control, we call ‘enthralling.’ Enthralling is…”

“Is what?”

“Enthralling is, well. It’s a form of hypnosis. Anyone enthralled by a vampire is mostly aware of it and the least likely they are to follow a vampire’s suggestions, the more likely they are to fight against the hypnosis. And it can be activated through eye-contact which is what I did to Cindy.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe. Suddenly pieces were slotted together in mind, forming a picture Virgil never wanted to envision. That faint but visceral memory of Remy with red eyes, the natural charisma Remy held with anyone he met, how Remy managed to steal confidential information from Virgil’s employee file in the back office of Kirby’s Burgers—all of it. He thought Remy, out of anybody, was safe. Past his sassy, laidback exterior, Remy was honest, willing to speak his mind about anything and everything.

If Remy enthralled a complete stranger without blinking an eye—who’s to say he wasn’t above doing it to Virgil? Who’s to say he hadn’t enthralled Virgil into being his friend? Who’s to say Virgil wasn’t an oblivious mouse in a game of cat and mouse? Oh gods, this had just confirmed all of Virgil’s worst fears and more.

“Virgil—” Remy said, reaching out, his eyes hidden beneath his shades. He continued speaking, a mumble jumbo string of excuses probably. Virgil couldn’t stand to stay around and listen to it.

“Stop—just don’t—” Virgil stuttered, taking one step and then another towards the open sidewalk. What was just a few steps then became a few hundred until he found himself leaning against the door to the apartment, hands shaking to slot the key to unlock it.

A few more steps he was inside, the usual musty smell an unexpected comfort. He sat on the couch, seconds stretching into eternity. He half-expected Remy to have chased after him, demanding Virgil to listen, why couldn’t you just listen, you’re so stupid no wonder you’re pathetic—

Virgil blinked a few times, his eyes burning with some sort of irritation. For some reason, Remy let him go. He couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. His head ached and so did his ears for some reason.

 Jerad entered the apartment a few millennia later. Virgil froze at the rattling doorknob, his hand clutching onto his phone in his pocket.

“There you are, you fucker!” Jerad drawled, stumbling over in a drunken stupor. His hand moved towards Virgil, but not with a closed fist. Instead he patted him on the back like earlier, “I can’t believe you did it! You finally got the balls to go and hook up with somebody! I guess I can’t call you Virgin, now huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil murmured, not correcting him on that assumption. He sat there, a bit of tension draining from him. Jerad wasn’t mad for abandoning him. Jerad was still a jerk, but at least Virgil mostly knew what to expect of him. It wasn’t ideal, but that was life. It was better to deal with the devil you knew, then the devil you didn’t know. Virgil was stupid to have ever thought otherwise.

“My parents are being such dicks at the moment,” Jerad said, precipitously changing topics as per usual of him, “sometimes I wish I didn’t have to wait until they were dead to take my inheritance and do what I want to do, y’know?”

Virgil didn’t really know. Did his parents leave him money? They had to have had some sort of savings stashed away. A life insurance of some sort, right? It wasn’t like they were poor. He never thought about inquiring into that. Jerad accidentally slapped Virgil across the arm with a huge hand gesture, still ranting about something. Maybe it wasn’t an accidental hit.

Virgil didn’t know. His tether on reality felt weak, like a balloon close to floating away into the stratosphere. He almost wished he could float away, but the weight in his chest said otherwise. Jerad passed out not long after his rant, slumped half on the floor and half on the sofa. Virgil took this opportunity to slip into the comfort of his bedroom and turn on his cellphone once more.

 Seventeen new text notifications and five missed calls from Jerad greeted him, along with one new text notification from Logan. He clicked on Logan’s and his conversation, staring at Logan’s text at the bottom of it.

Logan: Virgil, Remy wanted me to inform you that he is taking a leave of absence from work. Please let me know if you need to take a leave of absence as well or need to confide in somebody as a friend, Patton or I would be happy to listen.

Virgil stared at it some more. Then he tapped out a short response, set the phone on the stool that was his makeshift nightstand and collapsed headfirst into his mattress. 

Virgil: K thanks, I’m fine

-

A/N: Hope everyone is doing well, if you enjoyed the chapter please consider leaving a comment--it's completely free and helps me out as a fanfic writer a ton! I'm technically not in the Sanders Sides fandom anymore, but I still have a lotta fondness for this fic and I will finish it, even if takes me ten years to do so :') -Kat

[jamiiviper]

The Jamil Essay

this is a reupload of a post i made a couple of weeks ago - previously it was an external link to a google doc, so it never showed up in any of the twst tags, but i worked so hard on this and i would really love it if more people read it, so i’m reuploading directly to tumblr.

to put it simply, this is a 3.7k word character analysis purely about jamil. and even with a word count like that i wasn’t quite able to cover everything i wanted to say, so who knows, maybe there’ll be a part 2 one day. i’ve also decided i do want to write a kalim version, so i’ll probably start working on that sometime soon! stay tuned!

trigger warnings: mentions of child abuse

jamil is the vice dorm leader of scarabia, who’s been kalim’s caretaker practically since birth. he puts on a facade of not standing out, preferring to remain completely average, and plans his life around kalim’s antics. as we learned in chapter 4, however, his true feelings are that he bears a lot of resentment towards kalim, and that he wants to stand out - he just wasn’t allowed to, as he can never surpass kalim.

in this essay i want to cover not just my personal interpretation of jamil, but also some common misconceptions that people tend to have about him. twitter doesn’t have this problem as much, but with tumblr i’ve found that there are very few jamil stans, especially in the theory and writing communities - meaning it’s quite common for people to misunderstand his character. in the fandom as a whole, it’s common for people to only acknowledge him insofar as “gay for kalim”. 

firstly, jamil’s character development in the main story - i would say he’s arguably the best-developed character in twst, since yana now has enough chapters available to flesh out characters after their main story arc ended. jamil holds very deep-seated resentment against kalim, to the point that he plotted to betray him for probably several years. he plotted to have kalim not just thrown out of nrc, but thoroughly ruin his reputation in the process. after his overblot, those feelings did not magically vanish - far from it. i think earlier twst chapters suffered from arcs being wrapped up a little too neatly post-overblot, but pomefiore’s arc has already proved itself to be the exception and thoroughly covers not just jamil’s continued dislike for kalim, but also the wider consequences for what he did.

since the twst school year begins in september, we know jamil is about 9 months older than kalim. from literally the day kalim was born, jamil’s life has been dedicated to kalim. possibly since the day jamil was born, and he was always fated to be kalim’s caretaker. it may even have been the reason he was born at all. either way, it’s not like he remembers those 9 months. all jamil has ever known is that his sole purpose must be to serve kalim. he must not have desires of his own, he must not do anything for himself - from childhood he was expected to be ready to give up his life for kalim at a moment’s notice. he can’t be good at anything - kalim must always be better (i’ll cover this in more depth in a later paragraph, this philosophy is key to his character). his own parents drilled this into him, even going to the extent of hitting him if he didn’t comply. it seems he has a normal relationship with his family despite this - he bickers with his sister like regular siblings, and pre-overblot he indicated that his desire to be free from servitude wasn’t just about him, he wanted to free his family. nonetheless, the psychological damage his childhood caused him is severe. is it any wonder his unique magic is mind control, when he’s never had an ounce of control over his own life?

moving onto his early teen years, we know both jamil and kalim were severely poisoned at one point, both falling into comas for around two weeks. although we don’t have a timeframe for jamil’s coma, we know kalim’s was when they were around 13 years old. if jamil’s was around this age too - probably a short while afterwards - i think it’s plain to see why jamil’s resentment began to build. he’d have been around the age where he first started to question why his life has to revolve around kalim. why should he be expected to die for someone he doesn’t even like, who’s spoiled and doesn’t realise how much jamil does for him? kalim takes everything for granted: status, friendships, freedom, and jamil is meanwhile left in the shadows with nothing. then one day kalim gets poisoned so badly he falls into a coma - how much do you want to bet jamil was blamed for that, at the age of 13? after that he’s expected to taste-test anything kalim eats beforehand, and eventually starts making all his meals for him because the risk of poison is so high otherwise. then one day he slips up, or it’s an undetectable poison, and jamil is the one to fall into a coma. is anyone blamed for that? does anyone pity jamil outside of his immediate family + kalim? no, probably not. after all, he’s just doing his duty, right? it’s truly… no wonder jamil’s resentment became so intense. he finally has proof that his life truly does not matter. although kalim certainly cares about him, he doesn’t understand jamil’s position. he sees jamil as a friend, an equal; jamil knows this can never be the case, and he also knows kalim is too privileged to ever hope to understand. 

fast forward on a couple of years to jamil receiving his nrc acceptance letter. he thinks that finally, finally he’s going to be free. four years of freedom - and who knows, maybe after that he can be free forever! he can finally excel at his classes and be his true self, without fear of upstaging kalim! 

and then kalim gets accepted a month late. for no reason other than his surname. 

and then kalim gets sorted into his dorm.

it’s a miracle he didn’t just overblot on the spot - but that’s his nature as a scarabia student. careful foresight and planning. this moment was, undoubtedly, the moment he started planning his betrayal. he had his one month of freedom ripped away, just like that. 

oh, don’t forget the fact that not long after, kalim was made dorm leader not because he notably embodies scarabia values at all, but because of nepotism. (side note: most scarabia stans agree kalim does actually reflect scarabia values, just not as obviously as jamil does, but either way jamil himself wouldn’t see it this way. this is a jamil essay so i won’t go in depth about this unless asked to!)

under kalim’s watch, scarabia - known for its intelligence and cunning - is turned into “the party dorm”. this seems to be the fandom’s perception of them too - i mean, just ask any non-scarabia stan what goes on in scarabia, that’s probably the answer they’ll give you. jamil would have probably loved the original scarabia; although we don’t know much about it, we know scarabia students are on a par with octavinelle when it comes to intelligence (paralleling azul’s constant interest in jamil). yet by winter break, scarabia is doing so badly in those same exams that they didn’t even place in the rankings…? without meaning to, kalim clearly harmed scarabia. instead of getting chance to study magic and show off, jamil is now essentially an unpaid, full-time party planner by the time his second year starts.

a few months later, winter break finally arrives, and jamil executes his plan to dethrone kalim. i may have just spent the last two pages defending jamil’s grudge, but his actions themselves are still indefensible. there’s evidence to suggest kalim knew what was occurring on some level - refusing to answer jade’s question about who was hypnotising him proved that 1) he probably had some idea deep down that jamil was betraying him 2) he doesn’t want jamil to get in trouble for it. nonetheless, this does not make what jamil did okay in the slightest, even if kalim allowed it to happen. jamil is, undoubtedly, the bad guy in this situation, no matter how sympathetic his childhood makes you feel. i could go into detail about why kalim acted the way he did, but again, this is jamil-focused.

i’ll skip talking about his overblot, because i covered his hatred for kalim in a lot of depth already and i want to talk about the general aspects of his personality like his desire for praise later on. so moving onto the end of chapter 4, we see jamil’s true self: a snarky, heavily opinionated boy who honestly just wants to be free to be himself.

but just like his freedom, that side of jamil once again only lasts for a brief moment. jamil almost loses everything after his overblot. practically every scarabia student hates him and wants him thrown out of the dorm - even kalim, his sole defender, can’t call him a good person. he’s a traitor. he says he trusts the scarabia students to work out that it’s better for them if he stays, but that day won’t come any time soon, and until then he’s keeping his distance from them all, because their hatred is that strong. if azul truly had been streaming to more people than just jade, his life would have been ruined beyond repair. so what does jamil do? he goes back to serving kalim. as a scarabia student, his foresight is good enough that he knows the option he hates the most is the only one that’ll be good for him in the end. for jamil, being himself is nothing short of a death sentence.

now i’ve talked for far too long about the timeline of his character arc, i can finally get to the good stuff: jamil’s personality, and how it’s changed throughout the stories we’ve seen so far.

the first thing that springs to mind when you think of jamil, other than “snake”, is probably “tired”. or “he’s going to snap”. something along those lines. which... yes, we know he is. he did snap. after chapter 4, this doesn’t seem to have changed too much, but i do get the impression that he’s somewhat less stressed out by kalim. his resentment has dissipated, for the most part (he does still openly insult him, though), so while he does grumble at kalim there’s no suppressed fury behind it. what replaced that fury?

guilt.

in 5-10, jamil tells azul that he intends to continue to obediently follow kalim around in order to restore his reputation, both inside and outside of scarabia. this does of course make him sound pretty selfish (as per usual), and in classic jamil fashion he doesn’t let his true emotions show, so it’s easy to take this at face value and assume he just doesn’t really care. i think in this case, we need to look more at his actions that we see throughout chapter 5. namely, the way it’s being emphasised how he’s silently watching kalim from afar - something he’s always done, yes, but yana seems to be really making a point of it in chapter 5. it’s not just kalim he’s distancing himself from, either. he’s staying away from the rest of the scarabia students too, as mentioned earlier. he never had any friends at all to rely on, even before his overblot. so by doing this, he’s effectively completely isolating himself. he clearly has a lot of thoughts about everything that he’s not sharing with anyone - just listen to the way he sighs at the end of the flashback in 5-10, how annoyed and frustrated he seems. if jamil was telling the truth about just wanting to restore his reputation, he’d probably appreciate kalim’s efforts, even if he dislikes kalim himself. he shouldn’t be upset by kalim persuading the scarabia students to give him another chance. not if he truly just wants to get back to normal. i think on some level, jamil feels incredibly guilty over his actions. he might not have even admitted to himself yet that he feels this way, and by saying things like “i just want to restore my reputation” he’s just trying to convince himself. after all, that’s something he has a history of doing.

ever since jamil’s first introduction, we’ve known jamil lives his life by the philosophy of “not standing out is the best way to succeed”. he hates standing out or receiving any kind of positive attention at all, because he thinks that it’ll only attract trouble. or so we thought, because as we learned from his overblot, jamil desperately wants to stand out. he’s powerful and intelligent, and he wants people to acknowledge that. he wants the praise and recognition he knows he deserves. this means that whenever he said he didn’t want to stand out, he was lying through his teeth - he probably constantly tried and failed to convince himself of this throughout his childhood. during his lab SR story, he even repeats it to himself in his thoughts, like a mantra - “I want to avoid standing out. I can’t be satisfied with this. I cannot be too good, nor fall behind, and neither should I get satisfactory grades or fail. This is the best shortcut to success.”. much like his feelings of guilt, jamil refused to acknowledge how much he truly wanted to show off, even in his own thoughts. he is awful at being honest to himself.

post-ch5, we find out that despite everything, jamil does still hold this philosophy, to some extent. he of course shows off his singing and dancing skills enough to be chosen as a main vocalist, and he says he wants to make a name for himself and show various people just how talented he truly is: kalim, his family, the asims and MC, to name a few. yet in the chapter before that, when kalim compliments his singing and dancing, he’s like “i don’t really want to stand out, but…”. which is honestly a little confusing at first because he does want to. i’d probably interpret it as something along the lines of he wants to show off to the people he cares about, but he still wants to keep his head down in general. so i think that to some extent, maybe he actually has internalised that philosophy now. the one time he truly expressed his desire to stand out, it ended in catastrophe for him. he has this tiny seed of doubt within him now, telling him his parents were right all along. but... he’s working past it, and applying himself as and when he’s comfortable doing so.

going back to him being bad at being honest, jamil’s a pretty big tsundere. there’s one person he does regularly receive praise from: kalim. yet despite desperately wanting to be praised, he often gets annoyed at kalim and tells him something like “this isn’t about me right now” or “what does that have to do with anything?”. plus when the praise is coming from kalim, it’s often in the context of kalim praising him to other people - as a servant, he can’t be seen accepting all these compliments, right? he can never be better than kalim. so he has to reject kalim’s praise. when it’s just the two of them alone, though, is when jamil gets embarrassed to the point he has to hide his blush under his hood. given his childhood, chances are that he doesn’t really know how to process being praised. he knows he wants people’s approval, but when he actually gets it, he just short-circuits. it was the same at his birthday celebration; although he wants to be the centre of attention, when it actually happens, he gets all embarrassed and tsun. i was trying not to let my own personal feelings spill in this but oh my god he’s so cute i can’t

next... this isn’t really linked to any previous topic, but i want to talk about jamil’s cooking! jamil cooks all of kalim’s meals, and regularly cooks entire feasts for kalim’s parties, too (as well as being in charge of getting any animals kalim wants to show off, decorating the dorm, making sure everything runs smoothly… you get the idea). his cooking is very good, and he has a lot of technical knowledge about cooking too - azul, whose parents run a restaurant, didn’t know about emulsification, but jamil was able to explain it to him. despite being so good, though, according to his dorm SSR homescreen lines he doesn’t actually like cooking very much. he says the fact that he cooks so much is “just how things turned out”. of course, he could just be being a tsun, but i do feel like he’s being honest with this - what reason does he have to seriously enjoy something he was forced into doing his entire life? However there is evidence that he might enjoy it after all; he’s particularly good at alchemy because of his cooking knowledge, and according to magical archives he’s completely neutral in motivation for both flying and history lessons, but has slightly higher motivation levels for alchemy, indicating that he can’t stop himself from putting a little bit extra effort into that class. i think it can be interpreted either way with the canon info we have currently, but regardless i would not say he’s the cooking fanatic people often depict him as. 

also, when jamil cooks, although his cooking is good, visually it’s usually very boring, to the point he and his sister would bicker over it. he has the technical skills to cook good food, but no idea how to present it. similarly, in his fairy gala SR he was told that although he perfectly memorised the dance, it was boring to watch - it looked like he was just executing the routine without any passion behind it. jamil is so emotionally repressed that he has no idea how to express his individuality. even in his bedroom, the only truly personal items he owns are a first aid kit (related to his servant position, not him as a human being) and a stereo + headphones set for dancing. he doesn’t have any other hobbies or interests - he doesn’t even know what people his age do for fun, because he’s never been allowed to think about such things. 

dancing is all jamil has that’s not directly related to serving kalim, really - but even that ties into his servant status. although he genuinely enjoys it nowadays and dances by himself for fun, he only picked it up as a hobby because kalim wanted to go to dance practice, and of course jamil had to accompany him. when his flashback after his overblot talks about him deliberately losing to kalim, the story focuses specifically on a dancing competition. which is why it’s honestly so important to jamil’s character that chapter 5 focuses on a singing and dancing competition. jamil finally has the chance not just to show off his skills in general, but his skills at the one thing he’s been allowed to love throughout his life. the one thing where losing to kalim at it hurt so much that it was such a prominent memory for him. when jamil was chosen as a main vocalist, he instinctively tries to say kalim would be better suited for the position, but stops himself and accepts it. it clearly means so much to him that he was chosen for this.

okay i started to scare people with how long this was getting when it was only 50% finished, i think if i write anymore people will actually be concerned for my health so i’ll leave it here. if you read all of this, thank you so much for putting up with my anime boy brainrot for over six full pages! i really.. really like jamil. again, i most certainly do not think his actions should be defended, but god if they’re not fascinating to read about. and i hope i covered the other sides to him well enough, the things that you’d never ordinarily pick up on because so few people talk about him outside of him and kalim as a pair (both platonic scarabia + romantic jamikali, i mean). he has so much depth to him that people don’t see and god i could easily have gone on for another few pages if i wasn’t forcing myself to stop. but please please talk to me if you want to hear more...

yana has treated him so well, jamil stans get too much food if anything but i’m absolutely thriving off it as you can see! thank you for allowing him to exist, yana-sensei!

having said that, i couldn’t stop myself from adding some extra facts about him below. please enjoy.

some fun jamil facts for your soul:

his sister used to bake him cookies on his birthday - specifically, these!

when jamil and kalim went to eat at the cafeteria with ruggie and leona, leona took one look at jamil and went “you look like you’d kill kalim in his sleep”

sebek and jamil find each other’s positions enviable. sebek wishes he could have been by malleus’ side from birth as jamil was with kalim, and jamil just… wishes he served someone he respected as deeply as sebek respects malleus (but he does think sebek is too enthusiastic)

jamil hates surprises with a burning passion, and despite being with kalim for 17 years is still not used to them. for his previous birthday, kalim held a huge surprise party, and i think he still hasn’t recovered from the shock

i think a lot of people already know that in his birthday SSR story he said he wanted a parrot after graduation so he could teach it to call him master, but it goes a bit further than that? it was actually first mentioned during his lesson chats, when kalim gets a parrot. jamil has to research how to care for it, and ended up wanting one of his own afterwards (but got too tsundere to admit it at the time).

also, he heard that the sorcerer of the sands’ parrot (iago) could speak as fluently as a human, and he got excited and watched a bunch of parrot videos on magicam, but was of course disappointed to find out that this was not the case.

he frequently uses flattery to try and get his way, like when he attempts to flatter vil during his SSR story - unfortunately he misjudged vil, as vil’s actually the type of person who hates meaningless flattery. because he does this so frequently, when he genuinely does give compliments people don’t always believe him.

according to the halloween event, jamil is surprisingly environmentally conscious, and insists on holding a sustainable halloween theme. after organising so many parties and seeing the waste they probably produce, i think there’s no wonder he’s so concerned about it.

[collecting-stories]

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur. 

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol. 

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.  

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.  

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.  

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.  

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.  

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.  

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”  

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.  

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.  

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.  

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.  

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.  

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.  

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.  

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”  

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”  

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.  

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.  

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.  

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.  

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.  

-

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.  

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.  

“I can ask for her.”  

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.  

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.  

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”  

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.  

-

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.  

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.  

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.  

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.  

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.  

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.  

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”  

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.  

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.  

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.  

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.  

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”  

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.  

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.  

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.  

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.  

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.  

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.  

At least you’d have a good story to tell.  

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.  

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.  

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.  

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.  

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”  

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.  

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.  

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.  

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.  

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.  

“Always right down to business,” you teased.  

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.  

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”  

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.  

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.  

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.  

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.  

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.  

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.  

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.  

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.  

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.  

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.  

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.  

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.  

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.  

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”  

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.  

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.  

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.  

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.  

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.  

“Are you?”  

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.  

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.  

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.  

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.  

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.  

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.  

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”  

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”  

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”  

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”  

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”  

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.  

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.  

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.  

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”  

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.  

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.  

-

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.  

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at  her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.  

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.  

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”  

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.  

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”  

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.  

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.  

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”  

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.  

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.  

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”  

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”  

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.  

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.  

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.  

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”  

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.  

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.  

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“  

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.  

-

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[tony-is-my-daddy]

My Forbidden Fruit

I hit a writer's block a few days ago with the multi chapter Starker fic I'm working on and I thought I'd try writing something else to keep myself occupied. I hope you like this.

Basically, Peter is a farm owner's son and Tony works for his dad and they're not supposed to date but oh well... Also, it's not staded in the fic but Peter is twenty years old here.

TW: one love scene, a bit of possessive behaviour but it's mostly just dirty talk. I think that's it but if you think there's anything else, let me know, please!

------

He placed down the last crate of corn in the barn, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. His hands hurt at this point from how many heavy crates he'd been carrying around all day, but he couldn't complain, his job paid quite well. Working for a well going farm owner meant good payment but also a huge property where Tony had a load of work to get done every day. He'd been up since six in the morning and the only break he had was his lunch time ever since.

The physically tiring work wouldn't have been bad, but this job wasn't just physically tiring. There was this one boy who kept annoying him and distracting him from his work however he could. That stupid game between them felt more tiring than his whole afternoon of carrying crates around the place. And the worst part was - the boy was extremely pretty and he knew how to use that to his advatage.

He walked around in the tiniest clothes ever that Tony secretly loved, short shorts and tight fitting tops that just drove him absolutely insane. It's hard to focus on your job when he's outside, sunbathing on the grass in nothing but a pair of boxers, or doing his morning yoga on his balcony, or when he's coming back from a dip in the lake, milky skin and messy chestnut curls dripping water that the towel wrapped around his waist barely soaks up.

He was only supposed to stay until the end of the summer, but it was now the middle of September and he was still there. Tony didn't know why he was still at the farm but he wasn't about to ask because getting into a conversation with Peter, the son of the owner of the farm which Tony worked on, was dangerous. Peter had his way with words, all syrupy-sweet and tantalizing. Tony did not need that, he wasn't planning on losing his job because he fucked his boss' son.

But he could never avoid the boy fully when he was on the farm, and today was no exception. Peter was already on his tail as he walked out from the barn and towards the pile of wood that needed to be chopped.

"Hi Tony," the younger boy greeted as he hurried after the man. "My mom told me you had a lot of work to get done today so I thought I'd keep you company."

"I don't need company," Tony replied curtly as he grabbed the axe that laid against the wall of the shed.

They always used makeshift stand made out of a huge woodbark that almost reached up to Tony's hip to chop wood on, it was the easiest route. So Tony grabbed a small piece of wood, set it on top of the big bark and with a hard swing of the heavy axe, he split the wood right into two pieces, the axe stopping as it got stuck in the thick bark.

"Stand back, pretty boy, or you might get hurt," he said with a motion of his hand, signaling to Peter to go away.

"I'm fine." Peter smiled as he sat down on a bench not too far away from Tony. He watched the man work in awe, as if he was doing anything other than swinging an axe back and forth. "You're so strong, Tony. I wish I could do that as well."

"Try doing sports other than yoga and maybe you'll be able to lift the axe," Tony mocked him between two hits. "This isn't some game, Peter. I'm working over here, please don't distract me."

"Oh I'm not distracting you, am I," the younger boy asked faux innocently. "I'm just sitting here-" Yes, in those stupid shorts that put his milky white legs on display. "-and I'm not doing anything-" Just talking to me with that voice. "-just watching you work. Because it looks so fascinating, how strong you are."

"Then why not watch the other workers instead? They're probably just as fascinating as I am."

"No they're not."

"Why not?"

"Because you're way sexier."

There it was, again... Tony hated it when Peter did that, so open about what he wanted and always trying to get it shamelessly. Tony felt like a piece of meat under the intense stare of the younger boy, and he started getting more and more uncomforfable. Who did this boy think he was, saying such things?!

"Peter, I work for your father. Hell, I'm over ten years older than you!"

"That doesn't mean a thing, I like men in their thirties way more than men in their twenties. You're more mature, smart, experienced. I like that."

Tony rolled his eyes and got back to chopping wood, that was his work, after all. He tried his best to ignore the younger boy, but it was hard when he was only a few feet away and he looked fucking edible. Tony found himself glancing at Peter more often than not, making him smile triuphantly, which Tony pretended he did not see. It was harder to do his work with the pair of honey eyes (do not ask how did he know what color Peter's eyes were) constantly on him, his hits becoming less accuare until he wasn't even splitting them in half but into thirds and two-thirds. He shook his head, deciding to take a break. He put the chopped wood into a wheelbarrow and manouvered it into the shed, putting them away into the organized pile that stood next to the wall. The next thing he knew, Peter was there next to him, picking up a piece of wood and putting it down next to the ones Tony placed. Tony adjusted it a little so it sat straight, like the rest, and put three more next to it.

"Hey Tones... would you like to come with me to the lake later today?"

Tony scoffed. "It's Tony. And no, if you haven't realized yet, I have a lot of work to do."

"What else are you gonna do?"

"I have to finish chopping wood, lock the animals up and the boss told me there's a car that needs to be checked as well."

"Yes, my car! It doesn't want to start, I don't know what's wrong with it. Ahh, you're gonna look at my car? That's so nice of you Tony, I really appreciate it. Maybe- maybe you could teach me something? Like, I could watch while you work and you tell me how everything works and-"

"No." Tony finished up putting the wood away and lead the wheelbarrow back outside and put it down close to himself as he started chopping wood again. He managed to cut three before he heard Peter's voice again.

"What do you mean no? Why not?"

Tony sighed. "I was told to take a look at your car and fix it, not to give you a car mechanics one-oh-one. And that's exactly what I'm gonna do, no less, no more. Now if you'd please stop distracting me, I'd greatly appreciate that."

Tony heard a small huff behind himself, then saw the boy pass by him and finally left Tony alone. He heard the slam of a door, Peter probably went back to the farm house. So Tony continued chopping wood in peace, but soon regretted sending Peter away because his job was way less interesting without him around. Maybe he did actually need that company...

The sun was starting to set when Tony finally got to checking Peter's car. He put a portable lamp down next to himself as he opened the hood of the car.

"Tell me where it hurts, babygirl," he mumbled to the machine as he smoothed his hands down the engine. He looked through it and found the battery termials. A loose positive cable, of course. Tony carefully removed the negative cable, so he could tighten the positive without getting shocked. Then, he plugged the negative back in, both of them nice and snug in their place. He closed the hood and sat in the car to check if it would start. He turned the key that was still in the ignition and the engine began rumbling. When he stepped on the gas pedal, the vehicle started. Tony laughed victoriously and turned the car off.

This was probably his fourth time that he sat down during the whole day, so he savoured it. He leaned his head back against the seat and took a deep breath. The car smelled like Peter, the most intoxicating scent ever. Tony didn't often get to be engulfed by that smell, but it was so good, he never wanted to leave that bubble he was in, never ever. He knew that's not how it worked, though, and he sighed as he leaned back forward, ready to open the door, when suddenly the passenger door on the other side of him opened, and a very shirtless Peter Parker got into the car, a towel thrown over his shoulder.

"Let's go," he said.

"What? Where?"

"To the lake. You said you had no time because you had work. But this was your last job and now that you fixed my car, we can go and take a relaxing dip together."

"Peter, no-"

"Peter yes. Now start the car, please, I wanna get there before the sun sets fully. It's so pretty, you have to see it."

Tony shook his head again, but when he looked at the puppy dog eyed boy, he knew he lost the battle. He couldn't say no to that sight, he had to go. So with a sigh, he started the engine again and he put it in reverse to back up to the road. Peter told him exactly what direction to go, since Tony hadn't been to the lake yet, and soon they were in a secluded area, nature surrounding them and the small lake. Peter got out of the car and eagerly ran towards the clear water, Tony following in suit.

Peter dropped his pants, now only clad in a pair of tight boxers that perfectly hugged his round ass, and walked into the water. He let out a little yelp as it touched his skin.

"It's a bit cold," he giggled. "But it's still nice, come on!"

Tony shook his head with a slight smile, but started unbuttoning his flannel anyways. He watched as Peter's eyes followed his movements, the boy basically drooling over Tony's exposed upper body. But Tony couldn't say anything, he was no different. Seeing Peter's lean figure was something he was still not used to, probably never will be used to.

He unbuckled and unbuttoned his jeans as well and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them and his shoes. Now he was also in only his boxers and while he knew he really should not have done it, Peter was irresistible. So he walked into the cool water as well, pleasant against his overheated skin.

At its deepest point, the water came up to Tony's hip, just covering the hem of his boxers, while it reached up to Peter's waist. The height difference between them was so obvious in that moment. Hell, every difference between them was so obvious, Tony's tanned hands against Peter's pale skin, calloused hands on the boy's silky soft sides while Peter placed his own, smooth hands on Tony's chest. They were so close to each other, they were touching each other. And not only that, but the amount of clothes separating them was minimal. It was so much easier to resist Peter on the farm, where people were around them and Tony knew what was his job. Where there was always at least a foot distance between them and an acceptable amount of clothes on them. But now, no one was there to interrupt them, nothing could've possibly made Tony step away from the beautiful boy. He was getting lost in the moment, lost in the honey colored eyes, the endless amount of freckles littering Peter's gorgeous cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the thick eyelases that fluttered so beautifully, like the wings of a graceful butterfly, the deep pink of those soft looking lips. Tony couldn't help his hand that moved on its own, coming up to touch Peter's bottom lip gently and yes, it was so soft, so delicate.

"Just kiss me already," Peter breathed, his usual teasing tone gone, now he was straight up begging. It made that last bit of resistance melt away, the last brick of the wall that Tony built around the two of them smash into tiny pieces, and their lips pressed together within a heartbeat. It was passionate, rough, months of built up tension poured into it. Tony'd hands began roaming up and down Peter's sides and back before one of them finally rested at the back of his neck, pulling him in, deepening the kiss, and the other one just below his ass as it pulled Peter's leg out of the water to wrap around his waist. The younger boy's arms wrapped around his back as well, hands burying into Tony's sweaty hair.

It was perfect, everything about the kiss was perfect and Tony never wanted to stop. Especially not when Peter's other leg followed the one that Tony was holding and he clung to Tony with his whole body. Only then did Tony notice the tent in the younger one's boxers.

"Tony," he gasped between kisses. "Please, do something, please."

And how can a weak, weak man like Tony resist to something like that? He grapped Peter's plump ass with both hands and started grinding the boy down against himself, the sweet friction on their clothes cocks making both of them moan out loud. The kissing came to an end as their jaws dropped in order to let their sounds flow, but they remained close to each other, basically sharing a breath. Their foreheads leaned against each other, half lidded eyes staring into the other's while they moved in tandem, grinding against one another.

"You're so beautiful," Tony said, his voice gravelly. "Skin so pretty and soft... I wanna mark it all up, make it mine. Make you mine."

"Take me. Take me, I'm yours, always have been yours."

"God, Peter. You're so good, fuck, so hot."

"Want everyone to know that I belong to you, Tony. Want them to see that the hottest man in the fucking world owns me. That I'm yours and no one else's-"

"And I'm yours, too."

They shared a few more lazy kisses between loud moans of the other one's name, both of them nearing their climax rapidly. Peter was the first who came, a harsh bite on his shoulder pushing him over the edge. As he came, he let out a scream louder than the ones he had before, which made Tony lose himself as well and come with Peter's name rolling off his tongue like a prayer.

They still held each other close as they came down from their high and tried to catch their breath. Tony was rocking Peter side to side, making the younger boy sleepy.

"Tony," he whispered.

"Yes, baby?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"I love you."

Tony chuckled. "Can I tell you a secret as well?"

"Mhm."

"I've loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you."

[nepenthendline]

Soulmates - Aone

This was a commission for @dont-mind-me-imjustpassingby​! My commissions are 30% off until 30th september 💕💕 Hope you enjoy!

(also I changed my banners oooo)

2.3k

Ever since you were born you had the two words on your wrist memorised: ‘it’s you’. Your key to finding your soulmate, your one true love who would be perfect for you in every way. Each day, even as a little child you had dreamed about that one day you’d hear those two familiar words, and how your heart would finally feel complete. Some of your friends had already found their fated soulmate; one when they were 7, one two years ago, and one just last week, but there were plenty others who were still looking for their other puzzle piece – you being one of them.  

You still had time, you had to keep reminding yourself. You were only a second year at Date Tech, and you still even had a whole year at the busy school to run into your soulmate, but it felt so frustrating to wait.  

To busy your time instead of worrying yourself silly over this, you had joined the volleyball team as a manager in your first year. At first, you didn’t know much about the sport at all, but you grew to love watching the ball fall on the opponent’s side, and hearing it bounce off the strong arms of the blockers. Over time, you built a great relationship with the team members, and they respected you. It was a little easier for you to talk to the second years though, as you had much more in common due to your shared classes.

That was except for one though: Aone. Well, it wasn’t exactly just you that struggled communicating with the boy. In the past two years, you’d noticed how he rarely ever spoke, to you or to others, and how he preferred to reply in grunts or nods. It wasn’t like you had never heard his voice; however, it was just never once directed at you.  

Even so, somehow you were so drawn to him. It was like a magnetic force that tugged on your heart every time you were near him. Every nerve in your body kept telling you to talk to him, to learn more about him; so, you did.  

It certainly helped that you were quite close to Futakuchi, who seemed well versed in the communicative ways of Aone. The three of you, all being second years, started walking home together after practice, meeting up for morning practice, leading into study sessions at each other’s houses to cram before your exams.  

While Aone never spoke, he certainly never lacked expression. During your time together you got to learn more about him: what he liked, what he didn’t like, the subjects he enjoyed and his talents, all by carefully watching him and learning the little signs of happiness or discomfort. Such as the way his eyes widen a little and his face softens when he sees a cute kitten cross the street on the way home, or how his brow furrows deeply when he can’t understand a homework question. It was so interesting, so charming.  

You felt so comfortable around him. You saw how kind he was, and how thoughtful he could be whenever he tried to help or comfort his friends. However, while you hung out together often, you never really knew where you stood. Were you friends? Acquaintances? Purely club-mates? He didn’t seem to avoid you by any means, but it was as he tried to keep a little distance between the two of you. You knew you were probably never going to get much talking from him, but even after a year of your company, he had never answered a question or shared his thoughts to you with words. Futakuchi had mentioned to you before about how he only spoke with those he was extremely comfortable with, so you supposed he didn’t think of you as dearly as you did for him.  

You didn’t mind the silence, but sometimes, it stung. It hurt knowing how your mind was filled with thoughts of him every day, and how you just wanted to be someone he could rely on, someone who could confide in when things got tough.  

Every time you caught yourself staring a little too long at him, or when you noticed you’d stayed up late thinking about him, you were ashamed of yourself. And every day your shame grew as you fell deeper and deeper for him. You hadn’t even met your soulmate and yet you’d already abandoned your perfect future together to adore this boy a little more. There were rumours of how people had developed relationships with those who weren’t their destined soulmate, but these people were often shunned on by society. The world had chosen the perfect person for you, and you’re only job was to love and care for them, yet you had failed already.

The guilt was eating away at you, slowly breaking you down. You loved a man that wasn’t your soulmate, and you didn’t know what to do to fix it. So, you stepped back. You tried to get your mind off Aone by keeping your distance. You’d run off before you could walk home together, or you’d find an excuse to miss your study nights. You spent more time with other friends and trying to meet new people in case you stumbled across your soulmate and the shock could take Aone from your heart. But, no matter how long you spent away from him, no matter how else you tried to fill your time and thoughts, you were always pulled to him.

Aone, on the other hand, was dealing with a different type of stress to you, but one that chained him up just as tightly. A year ago, he found his soulmate; a year since he had heard those exact words on his wrist said to him, and how he had found the one for him. In that moment, and every moment since, he had dealt with a flood of emotions. Happiness, fear, relief and doubt. The world told him that this person was the one for him, the one who would finally accept him, love him and every part of him. He already knew that he loved them; every moment around them made his heart soar. Soulmate or not, he had fallen for them, their beauty, their compassion and care. But why was he so scared? So scared that his fated life partner wouldn’t feel the same? He didn’t even know if it was possible, but every instance with others had led him to believe that he was unwanted, unapproachable and unattractive. They may not have been his soulmates, sure, but there was never an instance besides the volleyball team where he felt accepted, and he couldn’t face the possibility of his one and only chance of love, the only chance he ever wanted, to be lost.  

And his worst nightmare was coming true. It didn’t take long for him to notice the change. He saw you draw away from him, leaving him behind in the pursuit for another; probably someone better, more handsome or more sophisticated. He might have a soulmate, but no one could fall for him.

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Futakuchi asked, sitting next to him on the steps leading into the school gym and Aone watched you in the distance filling water bottles. Aone didn’t need to answer for Futakuchi to know the answer, not that he would have anyway.

“If you don’t speak to her, she’s never going to know you’re her soulmate,” Futakuchi watched as Aone’s face screwed together tighter, and how his head fell to look at his wrist. He lightly traced over the words he had heard a year ago from you, still remembering how it sounded. His friend sighed besides him, throwing an arm over his shoulders.  

“I know you’re scared, but she was made for you, and only for you. The universe knew that she would love you, and that you would love her. Besides, you’re already friends with her and we both know how lovely she is. Soulmates or not, she’d still find a way to know you and fall for you.” Aone turned to look at him, his eyes were swallowed with insecurity and fear, and he swallowed heard. “Just give it a chance, you won’t know until you do. If you wait too long you might lose her,” he saw the panic flash in his friend’s eyes at those words, could Aone really lose his only chance? Futakuchi lifted his arm off, smacking him on the back, “go sweep her off her feet, yeah? You’re a great guy, I’m sure you can romance her,” he teased with a wink, before heading back into the gym at the sound of their coach calling to start practice. Could he make you fall for him? He had no idea, but he had to at least try.  

Through practice, the only time you had spoken to him was to ask if he wanted a towel, and he was way past the point of missing your voice. He wanted to make things right, to make you his but he just didn’t know how. He wasn’t the best at dealing with people, nor did he ever know what to say, and speaking itself was a struggle for him.  

At the end of practice, you had headed off home as soon as you had finished clearing up, while the team members were still getting changed. You wanted to be by yourself for a little while, maybe go somewhere you could clear your head. You’d been so busy recently trying to distract yourself from the hole in your heart, but every attempted made it grow bigger.

It was dark on your way some expect for the dim glow of the streetlights that barely guided your way. Your legs were tired, but your mind felt worse. By the side of the road was a large park, one you used to play in as a child, and the bench that sat under a streetlight called you. You trudged over, dropping your bag to your side and slumping down on the seat. You pulled your legs up onto the bench, tucking them close to your chest and let your head fall back. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and focused on the cold breeze as it swirled freely around you, yet you felt so stuck.  

Aone had left the school after he had changed and gave a swift nod as a goodbye to his teammates. He still wasn’t used to walking home alone without your chatter and warmth to keep him company. He didn’t like being out alone in the dark either, but he was always more concerned about your safety than his.  

As he walked under the dim lights, a figure at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Looking over, he saw what he could immediately recognise as you, sitting on the lonely bench, your head thrown back and your body tucked into itself. His heart skipped a beat, partly in adoration at the sight of you, and partly in worry.  

Footsteps moved across the road behind you, creeping louder and louder with each step, certainly coming towards you. You opened your eyes, and the shock of seeing Aone leaning over the bench to look you directly in the eyes sent shivers down your body.  

“You scared me,” you half-heartedly muttered, sitting up straighter than before. He stared at you for a couple moments, before rounding the bench and sitting by your side. You both sat silently, listening to the wind rustle through the trees.  

He turned to look at you as your gaze was ahead, watching the park in front. The light from above highlighted your features and reflected from your eyes, although that seemed to be the only light that came from them. He felt his hand subconsciously move across the bench towards you, but he quickly snatched it back before you could notice. He was scared, but you deserved to know rather than spend the rest of your life wandering around, hoping.

“It’s you,” he mumbled out, his voice deep and thick from its lack of use. He saw your eyes grow wide, and as the realisation set in, your head snapped towards him.

“Huh?” He didn’t know if you genuinely didn’t hear him, or if you just couldn’t believe this moment.

“It’s you,” he repeated, a little louder and a little more certain than before.  

Your jaw hung open a bit, trying to find a way to move. You looked away from him, then back to him again, then down at your wrist. Those same words you had just heard were staring back at you in permanent ink on your skin, glowing.  

All this time, and the one you had been looking for was right in front of you. The one you had been dreaming about and thinking of was yours. You started chuckling to yourself out of pure astonishment, what a fool you had been. All the intense feelings you felt for him, all the times you wanted to pull him close, every moment you spent watching him in devotion was for this exact reason; he was your soulmate, your one and only love.  

His face tensed at your reaction, half relieved that you didn’t seem disgusted, and half confused that you were so calm. You looked towards him with a lazily smile, and he saw that glint in your eyes that he grew so fond of.  

“I-I hope you can grow to accept me as your soulmate,” he spoke sincerely, fiddling with his fingers in his lap as his voice staggered out.  

“That’s what I’ve been wishing for, for the past year.”

[yeojaa]

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader. 

genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  general angst.    

tags / warnings.  everything about this is pain.  you can literally spin in a circle and point at somewhere on the page and it’ll be pain.  i’m sorry.

beta reader(s).  @midnighttifa​ (your comments make my days better, @pars-ley​ (you’re so lovely), and @papillonsgf​ (i owe you my life and all my love).  thank you, my dears!  💖

wc.  3k

chapter three.

You’d thought they’d left - all the memories of him.  Packed into cardboard boxes and plastic bins, folded between clothes and bare picture frames.     

You realise now, they’d only been hiding, waiting for his return.  

The smell of your perfume.  His favourite one, strawberry jam and cosy cedar wood.  It calls to moments together, of his face buried into the side of your neck.  Wandering hands and wondrous laughter, warmth crowding everywhere.  The wet of his teeth against your skin as he’d smile.  Springtime and Sunday matinees, fresh picked fruit and messy kisses.  

The mirror in your hallway - the one you’d taken too many photos in front of, that’d you almost broke one drunken stumbling night.  The one he’d loved you breathless in, with a hand at your throat and another on your waist.  Where he’d whisper sweet nothings with eyes only for you.  Where your little piece of paradise was preserved by a pretty iron frame. 

The tee shirt that you’d washed and promised to return but never had, keeping it as a trophy.  A rightful reminder of his love.  How it fits you just right without fitting you at all, comfortable and lazy and effortless.  A mirror image to the one he wears now.  

You find pieces of him scattered everywhere, swept under rugs and tucked within cupboards.  He’s there in the kettle that whistles and the tea that steeps, dipped in the honey pot and hidden behind your curtains.  He’s there in your thoughts, tucked away on the top shelf that you pretend doesn’t exist.  

Even as he sits, still and unimposing on the couch you’d both picked, he’s everywhere.

How is he everywhere?

“Want some help?”  It floats across the space, comfortably as if he’d never left.  It fits easily, familiar and lovely.  You hate it.  You hate how it makes you feel, digging up emotions you’d buried from their rightful place in the ground.  

“I’m fine.”  

A lie.  Lily white and inconsequential, in the grand scheme of things. 

You’re not quite sure why you bother.  Whose feelings were you sparing - his or yours?

“You sure?”  It’s closer than you anticipate, a ghost of a breath over your shoulder.  It sends your mind reeling, feet following in the same fashion as you all but slam into the hard block edge of your counter.  You nearly topple mugs as you go, only avoiding a disastrous mess when hands find you, catch you like that’s what they were made for. 

Jungkook’s an indomitable figure, palms searing heat into every nerve ending beneath his touch.  You can’t help the way you instinctively lean into him.  You love him somewhere deep in your bones, in the stardust that makes up every atom - a moth drawn to his flame. 

But you knew better now.  Fly too close to the sun - you’ll only get burned. 

“Please don’t touch me.”  

It’s you who breaks away first, turned towards the scent of chamomile and lavender.  You can only imagine his expression;  it’ll twist out of shape, crooked like you’ve just kicked him while he’s down.  

You suppose you have, but he’d thrown the first punch.

“Why’d you invite me in if you’re only going to ignore me?”  It hits like a shot to the gut, exactly as it’s meant to.  He isn’t asking for the sake of asking - he’s asking so you’ll cry yourself hoarse and find comfort in his arms.  He’s asking because he knows the answer and he wants you to regret it.  

You know it.  You know this side of him, even if you wish you didn’t.  

Even if you wish he was still the same boy who you’d fallen in love with years ago, full of sunshine and promise.  The one who’d have held you all night, kissed you senseless under the moon and held your hand through the sunrise.  Who’d break his own back bending over, weather a hundred storms for the people he loved. 

It’s a silly wish - a useless one, wasted on shooting stars and broken bones.  

He would never be that boy again.  He’d come too far, changed too much.  You hardly even recognise him now, cut from stone rather than cloth.  A thousand sharp edges you catch your hands on when you foolishly reach for him.  He is an incomplete masterpiece and you’ve never been artistic.  There’s nothing for you here.  

A mug is extended - an unnecessary apology.  An olive branch in the form of your old ritual.  “Please don’t say that.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?  Can’t do or say anything.”  It’s petulant and angry, a riot crowded behind his teeth.  You’re worried what the words might do - how they’ll beat you black and blue. 

“I don’t know what you expected.”  You can’t hide the exasperation, the overwhelming sadness that starts in your heart and branches out into your veins.  It creeps further, presents itself prettily in jewels nestled along your lash line and the tremble of your chin.  You’d cry if you weren’t so tired, every ounce of your effort eaten up by the boy that glares at you now and demands more than you can possibly give.  

He sighs - a long, unbroken sound - and something shifts, snaps into place as if the entire cosmos has aligned to allow this moment.  

He looks like him suddenly, like the version of himself you’d thought long lost.  It’s hidden in the peculiar shape of his mouth, uneven around his frown;  it’s there in the light of his stare, where sunbeams pour past boarded up windows.  It’s there, even where you can’t quite see it, in the corner of his soul and his drifting heart.  He’s always been a wanderer.

But then he moves, retreats back to his seat and to himself.  

He feels farther away than the moon, his silence that of the stars.

You take a careful sip of the liquid that burns through ceramic - anything to distract from the cold hands of memory that claw at your neck.  You turn words over in your hand - test them for clarity and weight, a jeweller inspecting their most prized possessions.   Was there anything you could say that would make this better? That would fix this gaping, Jungkook-shaped silhouette that tore a hole right through you?

You remember how you’d fallen for him, tumbled headlong into love with him - intensely, blindly, wholeheartedly.  It’d been easy then.  You’d dived into depths too shallow, climbed trees too fall;  you hadn’t thought your heart would break, even if every other part of you did. 

You’d thought it’d all be worth it.  

Instead you’re left with alkaline bones calcified under paper-thin skin, parchment sewn together by shaking hands and sodden by saltwater.  It’s hardly a body at all, ripe for the picking and bruising and tearing beneath teeth like knives.  

Can you blame him for how he hurts you when you’d already hurt yourself?

There’s a tang on your tongue.  It pools between seams, dripping misery into your mouth and swallowing the sob that’s formed in a wave.  It crashes against your teeth, stings the pink of your gums with salt;  it rises and crests, engulfing sandy shores you’d once built your home upon.  It comes and comes and you can’t stop it - sound bursting forth like a siren song.

He’s upon you then, utterly defenseless to your call.  He crowds you before he can think twice about it;  a drowning man seeking air.  It’s a pretty metaphor for a pretty boy.  What he doesn’t realise is that he is a galaxy all his own - not a sailor lost at sea but a swirling vortex not fit for human life.  Jungkook contains no oxygen of his own, smothering you in what he calls love and feels more like hell. 

“I’m sorry.”  It disappears into velvet, clinging to silk like electricity.  They spark in your eyes, electrifying your thoughts.  “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”  

Arms do the opposite of what they’re meant to.  They crush your resolve beneath the weight of them - pry open your insides - and you’re crumbling.  The agony comes in sheets, like September rain.  It streaks down your cheeks and soaks your clothes, sinking beneath your skin until you’re waterlogged. 

“Don’t say that.  Don’t you say that to me.”  

Don’t lie to me, you think.  

He speaks the words he thinks you want to hear, weaving them until they’re a muzzle for your sadness.  “I’m sorry.  I never meant to hurt you.”  As if good intentions make up for the way your heart aches. 

They don’t. .

“Forgive me.  Please.  I need you.” 

Forgive him.  Forgive him?  You don’t even know what you’d forgive him for.  You’re certain there are more skeletons in his closet than in the ground.  Dig one up and another three would rise - some sort of awful hydra’s head born from your nightmares.

“I can’t.”  It claws itself out of your throat and into the air that suffocates, ripping it apart with teeth and nails.  Hands find the collar of his shirt and it isn’t clear whether you’re shoving him away or clinging to him.  You can’t make up your mind, fisting the material between your fingers until the strands might snap.  It feels terribly familiar, like the thing behind your ribs that’s six seconds from tearing.  

You’re pushing and pulling, hitting and halting.  Hauled in a million different directions.  It’s too much.

“What’re you sorry for?”  A fist to his chest, right where your heart lives (or dies, rather).  Your demands are barely coherent, words with no beginning and no end.  “Tell me.  Tell me what you’re sorry for.”  

He could push you away.  It’d be easy, really.  You half expect him to.  He hates being told what to do.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.  I’m sorry for not realising how good I had it.  I’m sorry for forgetting about what we had.  I’m so fucking sorry.”  They’re confessions you’ve heard a hundred times.  Over the phone, through the door, on his knees.  It never changes - a recital he knows intimately well.  “I’m sorry for letting you down.”  

You shouldn’t have expected more.  It would never come - not with him.  Not from him.  He had too much to lose and you’d never be enough.  Nothing in comparison to those thin white lines, those flashing lights, those women. 

You thought you’d known that.  You’d had three long years to learn that.

These apologies aren’t answers;  they’re excuses.

You peer up at him - into those wondrous eyes, so full of light and swirling with constellations - that you don’t think he expects it when you thrust your hand into his chest, past sinew and gristle to find the truth.  It squeezes, incremental, around the organ that you’d once thought beat in time with yours.  Silly girl.  It hardly beats at all.  

“That’s not what you should be sorry for.”  The tears still fall.  They come, relentless, as if his mere presence undoes all your hard work;  they carry your words, pull them off your tongue like white water rapids.  “You should be sorry you’re asking me to forgive you.  You should be sorry you’re putting me through this.”  It’s those same fists, over and over again, as if you might force something more out of him.

“I’m sorry I can’t let you go.”

“Please let me go.”

“I can’t.  I can’t.”  Jungkook cries like his tears might sway the tide.  “Stay with me.  I can’t do this without you.”  It’s a lie - a terrible, poorly-dressed lie - but he speaks it like the truth, like you’re his truth.  

He begs as if he doesn’t remember the harsh sting of reality and how it fits within your story.  He pretends like these chapters haven’t been written together, passages underlined in garish red ink.  He acts oblivious to the mistakes you point out, refusing to read between the lines even when they’re written in. 

Fault lies with him - mostly, wholly - carried in the palm of his hands with small portions - sections of his knuckles - divided up to reflect the ache of your mutual loss. 

He knows that - but knowing something doesn’t mean facing it.  

“I need you, Pumpkin.”  

“You don’t need me.”  Hasn’t needed you in years, far longer than even the last three.  He’d found others to need, others to fill the gaping you-shaped hole he swore was real.  

Women with beguiling eyes and beseeching mouths.  Women whose names you never learnt but whose perfume found a home somewhere along your shelves, whose clothes masqueraded as yours when you’d find a wayward scrap of lace in the back pocket of his jeans.  Women who took your everything - but only because he’d been ripe for the taking.  

I miss you, he’d insisted over those first few weeks.  I can’t wait to come home to you.  Nothing’s the same without you. 

You should’ve known then that someone so used to having it all would never let go so easily.  

In a perfect world, you would’ve fought less, given more - uprooted your whole life to travel across the world with him.  He would’ve stayed at your side, found his vice in the shape of your smile, the beat of your heart.  You would’ve been happy.  Together. 

You wonder - would it have made a difference?  Or would all paths have led to this?  Had you been doomed from the start?  Star-crossed lovers?  

You’d like to think so.  Passing blame helps - softens the pain and drowns out the what-ifs. 

You never had a chance.

He wants to tell you it’s true, that none of them mean anything close to you.  He wants to tell you that you’re the love of his life and that, when he gives this all up - flickers out like a star that’s burned too bright - you’ll be the one he crashes into.  You’ll be the only arms he seeks, his northern star in human form.

But you told him not to lie and you’d insist he was, so he doesn’t. 

He stares at you instead, soft and sad and so desperate he can trace the fractures in your composure as he levels you with that unwavering intensity.  It stutters to life a hundred hummingbird wings;  he can practically hear them buzzing about in your chest.  He thinks they’d burst out of your chest if you weren’t careful, caging them beneath brass.

“I love you,”  he tells you, words so sweet, so tender - a melody he strings together only for your ears.  It warms your cheeks and fizzles quietly in your stomach, melting away the ice that crystallises your heart and turns it cold.  He strips you bare with the admission, hoping to find some sort of acceptance in your eyes.

He forgets that he is not a blameless boy and your body is more than a confessional booth.

You believe it when you say it, half-hearted and defensive.  It would hurt more if it weren’t so wet.  “You don’t love me.” 

“I do.”  What can he do to convince you it’s true?  He thinks he’d do anything if it brought you back to him - where he wants you most - tucked away in his arms and his head and his heart.  “I swear I do.”  

He reaches for you with high hopes.  It’s silly of him, he knows.  You’re lightyears away, tucked among the stars.  It’s where you belong, out of reach and shining bright.  He can’t deny how badly it hurts.  He wants you here, beside him;  he wants it selfishly, as he wants most things.

“You don’t love me, because you don’t hurt the people you love.”  It’s a phrase Jungkook’s heard before.  From your lips, from movie screens, from god knows fucking where.  What a stupid phrase.  He didn’t mean to hurt you.  He didn’t mean a lot of things and didn’t that mean anything?

Each time it comes, it agitates him, stewing his blood to a boil.  It simmers in his veins like witch’s brew, a love potion rotten and ruined - sweet milk gone sour.. 

Was this that - a relationship that had run its course?  A bond past its expiration date?

“I love you,”  he repeats, ever harder.  As if the words might turn to amber, remain forever on the top of his tongue, crystallised and perfect.  It feels like it.  He’s told you enough times, ever since he was fifteen years old - practically an eternity.

“”You don’t.”  It’s your own insistence, biting and cold and yet somehow still a summer’s day.  You weren’t always like this.  He’d driven you to this.  But you were never very good at keeping him out;  warmth always crept in, sunlight streaming through the clouds.  That was the glory of your love.  It was irrefutable.  

Your skin may have thickened but the fire roars on.  

“I love you.  I love you so fucking much.”  He holds you, seeks to burn the truth of his words into your marrow.  Thumbs sweep the point of your chin, right below where he’d like to leave the impression of his mouth.  

There’s a sadness in your eyes - an ocean of melancholy that turns them bitter blue.  “Love is sacrifice.”  You pry each finger from your face, turn knuckles alabaster with your gentle ministrations.  A part of him wishes you’d tear them clean off;  your kindness hurts more than your hate.  “And sacrifice is something you’ll never understand.”

You lead him to leave, just as he’s led you through hell.  You don’t falter when the door of your home swings open, the one in your heart slamming shut in tandem.  

When you tell him to go, he isn’t ready - wants to spend the rest of his life in this place with you - so you guide him out, with a tiny shake of your head and a click of the lock.  He stares at the wood grain when it shuts in his face - memorises the patterns of the home you’d built together.  He stands there longer than he should, setting sun searing upon his shoulders.  He should leave, he knows.  

But you’re his weakness and he doesn’t know whether he loves you or hates you for it.

author note.  this was really meant to just... explore their past a little bit?  so i hope that comes across?  actual plot movement will be forthcoming.  tysm for reading!!!  💜 

tag list.  @jalexad​​​ @aa-ronpa​​ @kookiesbreaky​​ @celestialflamefairy​​ @xjoonchildx​​ @pars-ley​​ @seokjinssi​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​ @patpus​ @dazedjjk​ @koozui​ @jinhitwhore​ @always-wishing-for-rain​

[nicknellie]

Anonymous requested: I’d love literally anything Flarrie, but I’d really like to see some Nick/Carrie friendship as well (I feel like however she’d come out, he’d be surprised but support her 1000000% and I never see fics featuring their friendship)

Anon, I’m not even joking, you might be my favourite person literally ever. Flarrie with a side of Carrie and Nick being best friends? Sign me the fuck up. I’ve had a serious case of writer’s block, so I can’t promise this is the best thing I’ve ever written, but I still love it. Also this is the first time I’ve ever written Nick, so it might be out of character, but I think I did pretty well. Thank you so much for suggesting this!

Title is from the Masterplan by Oasis because that song fits this fic beautifully.

Say It Loud and Sing It Proud

Carrie looked herself up and down in the mirror, certain she would find something amiss. Her hair was elegantly twirled into a braided crown, her makeup was all soft pinks and subtle glitter, and her dress fit her like a glove. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her appearance, and as far as she could think of there was nothing to be worried about for the night ahead at all, which made the hammering of her heart and the watering of her eyes all the more frustrating.

She had been so excited about tonight. It was Los Feliz’s school dance and everyone had been buzzing about it for weeks. Initially Carrie hadn’t been too bothered – just another party, just another dance, she had been to plenty of those in her lifetime. But then one thing had happened and Carrie had found herself more excited about the dance than she had ever thought possible. Now that same thing had her hands shaking and her breath hitching in her throat.

“Carrie?” Nick called from her bedroom. She had almost forgotten he was there. “Are you almost ready?”

She looked up into the mirror of her ensuite again, head tilted so that she could see the reflection of her bedroom behind her, the door thrown open wide between the two rooms. Nick was lying on her bed in his suave white suit, his shoes placed neatly at the end of the bed, scrolling through his phone in boredom. She didn’t blame him – he had been waiting for her to get ready for going on two hours and there were only so many apps a person could mindlessly switch between for hours on end.

She almost envied his boredom. She would have felt exactly the same had it not been for that one perfect, terrifying thing.

Carrie shook her head, steeled herself, took a deep breath. “Yeah, just give me another minute.”

There was nothing to worry about. There was nothing to worry about. There was nothing to worry about. She repeated it in her head, a harsh mantra, one last desperate attempt to calm herself down. And with a final deep breath and glance in the mirror, she left the ensuite and perched herself primly on the end of her bed just beside Nick.

He looked up from his phone, sat up a little straighter and smiled at her. “You look great.”

Absently, Carrie remembered the days he used to say things like that in a romantic way. Compliments peppered here and there, usually followed by a kiss on the cheek or a gentle hug. She almost laughed – those days, thankfully, were far behind them and she was more happy being friends with Nick than she had ever been when they were dating.

“Thanks,” she said, trying for a smile. She wasn’t quite sure if she achieved one, but Nick made no comment so she took it as a win.

“So,” he said, sitting cross-legged in front of her. “Are you ever going to tell me who your date is for tonight?”

Carrie looked anywhere but at Nick. Ever since she had told him she had a date for the dance, he had been enthusiastically trying to guess who it was or trying to wheedle the information out of her himself. It would have been fine, a fun little bit of banter between the two of them, and eventually she would have told him – it was just that she and her date had agreed not to tell anyone until they arrived at the dance, that way they could let everyone know together. No awkward one-on-one conversations, no hurt feelings because one person knew before somebody else. It would be simpler that way.

Simple, Carrie thought, but absolutely petrifying.

“Nope,” she said brightly, forcing a giggle. “I told you, you’ll have to wait and find out.”

“Can I keep guessing then?” Nick asked.

Ah. That was the worst of it. Again, Carrie wouldn’t have minded Nick guessing. A little bit of light-hearted conversation to pass the time, an inside joke to laugh over. But there was just one problem that made Carrie endlessly uncomfortable.

All of Nick’s guesses so far had been boys.

Her date was most certainly not one of those.

It had all started about ten months ago, late August or early September, the very beginning of the school year. Carrie had turned up to her science class and had seen, to her utter dismay, a new seating plan displayed on the board. Teacher-made seating plans never worked out; Carrie would always end up sat next to someone she either hated or never spoke to. In this case, it had been the first option.

She had stalked over to her seat at the back of the classroom, already furious, and slammed her things down on the table. Sitting down, she scooted her chair as far away from the person beside her as possible, glowering all the while. The person had sighed loudly and Carrie heard shuffling as they turned to face her.

“Look,” Flynn had said, voice flat and clearly unhappy. “I’m not exactly thrilled about this either. But it’s one class and if we refuse to even try and get along with each other we’re just going to make it worse for both of us. So stop glaring at the seating plan like it killed your whole family and grow up.”

Carrie had blinked and slowly turned to look at Flynn. Her expression was as empty as her tone of voice. In a weird sort of way, it was intimidating – Carrie felt her insides squirm. There had been nothing she could have said in response (in fact she wasn’t sure she could have spoken even if she tried) so she just nodded and sat up straight primly, attention focused on their teacher.

She had never liked Flynn. There was just something about her that didn’t sit right. Maybe it was how bold and loud she was all the time, how she was so free and comfortable with herself. Maybe it was how she had become friends with Julie Molina and ever since then Carrie and Julie had drifted apart. Maybe it was how every time Carrie looked at Flynn her breath caught in her throat and her mind wandered and her heart beat faster and she wanted so desperately just to smile, which she didn’t understand at all.

Carrie had not liked Flynn, but she couldn’t deny that she was right about the seating plan. It was better to try and get on than to simply simmer in stony silence.

So they had tried. And to Carrie’s surprise, they hadn’t even had to try very hard. Their first conversations started off awkward and forced as they tried to unnaturally spark some kind of civility between them. After about a month, they had found themselves talking a lot more freely to one another, less effort needed, and silences became more comfortable.

But it wasn’t until an experiment went wrong one lesson and Carrie had ended up drenched from head to toe in water, Flynn crying with laughter like it was the funniest thing she had ever seen, that Carrie realised that maybe they had finally become friends. Ordinarily she would have been furious at Flynn (or anyone for that matter) for laughing at her when she was embarrassed, but as Flynn howled, breathless and giddy, Carrie found herself beginning to laugh too.

Since that day it had become easy. Carrie had started hanging out with Flynn’s friends more, reigniting her friendship with Julie, and soon enough Nick had joined their group as well. Carrie found herself and Flynn sharing inside jokes, texting each other all night long, meeting up on weekends just for the sake of seeing each other. Flynn even gave Carrie a nickname, only used on rare occasion – Care Bear. It was ironic, made because Carrie’s response to one too many things had been ‘I don’t care’.

For a while, they had been friends and happy that way. Every time Carrie saw Flynn, she thought her heart might burst with the giddy joy that only Flynn could instil in her. She had let herself smile that wide and bright smile she always wanted to when Flynn was around because it was allowed now. So many things were allowed now that they were friends, things Carrie had hardly even realised she wanted to do – she could hug Flynn, link arms with her, hold her hand, fall asleep on her shoulder during their sleepovers.

In fact, it was on one of those sleepovers that Carrie realised that those things she wanted to do might not have been purely friendly.

She had woken up before Flynn, sprawled on the sofa in the fort they had built (as had become a tradition for their sleepovers – who didn’t love building pillow forts?). She had stretched and rolled over, burrowing a little further into the covers, and caught sight of Flynn fast asleep on the air mattress on the floor. She looked so peaceful, wrapped in two blankets, her chest gently rising and falling as she breathed, her hair spilled over her face. Carrie had smiled and tenderly reached down to move a braid away from Flynn’s face.

Without thinking, she gently ran her thumb along Flynn’s cheek, still smiling to herself. Then she had stopped because what on Earth was she doing? And in that one moment she re-evaluated every interaction she’d ever had with Flynn, played out every moment in her head over and over again and realised in no uncertain terms that–

“I’m in love with you,” she had whispered dumbfoundedly. She didn’t think, just shook Flynn awake, more forcefully than was probably necessary. Flynn grumbled, but sat up, probably thinking there was an emergency. Carrie didn’t let her ask whatever question she probably had lined up, just repeated again so that Flynn could hear her this time, “I’m in love with you.”

Flynn’s expression had morphed from sleepy urgency to utter bewilderment to dawning realisation to pure elation.

“Really?” she had said, wide awake all of a sudden.

Carrie had just nodded – she had used up all her words.

Flynn beamed and launched herself forward, wrapping Carrie in a tight hug that she responded to as if it was the most natural thing in the world, all the both of them had been born to do.

Flynn spoke in tandem with the rising sun as its light streamed through the window and illuminated the two of them, holding onto each other, just four simple words: “I love you too.”

That had been three months ago. They had done a lot since then – officially labelled themselves girlfriends, gone on their first dates, had their first kiss. But one thing they hadn’t done was tell anyone they were together. At first it was because they had wanted to wait and see it they ‘worked’. After that, the time had never felt right, and as time went on the whole prospect had become more and more daunting.

Which was where the school dance came in. Flynn had been disappointed when Carrie had told her that she wasn’t planning on going.

“Oh, come on,” Flynn had whined, her fingers trailing through Carrie’s hair, sending shivers down her spine, “it’ll be fun! We’ll get to spend the whole night dancing and hanging out with our friends! Plus, I’m DJing for about an hour near the start so you’ve got to come and watch me.”

Carrie had remained unconvinced. “It’s just a dance. There’ll be one next year and the year after, it’s not like I’ll be missing much.”

“I want you to be there with me,” Flynn had said.

That in itself had almost been enough for Carrie – she turned to face her Flynn, whose expression was open and honest and adoring. She realised in that moment how lucky she was to have Flynn, this beautiful girl who loved and understood her and wanted her to see her doing something she was proud of. Someone who wanted to spend time with her because she couldn’t imagine anything better. Flynn was a stroke of luck, more valuable and more rare than a lottery win, and Carrie had the privilege of calling herself her girlfriend.

But nobody else knew.

“Okay,” Carrie had said, “but we’ve got to make it worthwhile.”

“It will be,” Flynn insisted, beaming. “Julie and the guys are performing as well, so that’ll be great, and I’m pretty su–”

“No,” Carrie interrupted, “I mean I have something specific in mind.”

Flynn went quiet, said nothing, nodded encouragingly.

Carrie had taken a deep breath and said, “What if we told everyone about us? Just show up and tell our friends and dance together and spend the night as Carrie-and-Flynn rather than just Carrie and Flynn?”

“Woah,” Flynn had breathed. Carrie had instantly regretted saying anything at all – was it too soon still? Did Flynn not want to move that fast? Did she not want to tell their friends at all? “Really?”

“We don’t have to,” Carrie said, turning away. She felt Flynn link their fingers together but still didn’t look back at her. “If you don’t want to then I get it.”

“I do want to,” Flynn said. Carrie turned to face her then and saw that her eyes were bright with tears. “Of course I want to. As long as you’re ready then I think we should go for it.”

Everything in Carrie had screamed at her to backtrack, to wait a little longer, that this was a mistake. But she had gripped Flynn’s hand tighter, pressed a kiss to her lips, and smiled.

“I’m ready.”

Just like that, she had gone from indifferent about the dance, to ecstatic, and now – sat on her bed beside Nick, watching him expectantly wait for her to reply – she was utterly dreading it.

“Sure,” she said now, voice thick, “you can keep guessing.”

Nick frowned and leaned back, propping himself up with his hands behind his back. “It doesn’t sound like you want me to.”

Carrie tried to look him in the eye, but just couldn’t manage it. She felt like her chest was going to burst, like her head was full of TV static. She heard Nick sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “if you don’t want me to pry then I won’t.”

“It’s not that,” Carrie assured him, quiet. She took her time as she spoke, grasping for the words – all of them felt out of her reach. “I don’t mind the guessing.”

“Then what is it?”

She looked at him. She knew Nick, she’d known him practically her entire life, ever since they were toddlers. She had dated him for two years and now considered him her closest friend. His expression now was kind, gently nudging her to say what was on her mind.

Carrie and Flynn had agreed not to tell anyone at all before the dance, but if anyone could ease Carrie’s mind it was Nick, and if she didn’t calm down soon then she wouldn’t be going to the dance at all.

So she chose to tell him.

“Flynn and I are dating,” she said, looking at her duvet instead of at him, throwing the words out in one breath so she couldn’t hesitate or stop herself. “We have been for three months and we’re supposed to be telling everyone tonight, but I just feel so nervous about it and I don’t even know why. And I wasn’t meant to tell you because we said we’d tell everyone together, but at this rate I don’t even think I can make it out of this room.”

Nick was silent for a moment. All he did was reach out and take Carrie’s hand, stilling its movement – she hadn’t realised, but she had been restlessly picking at her duvet cover and had almost worn a hole in it. He held her hand softly in his and squeezed it ever so slightly, just enough to give Carrie the courage to meet his eye.

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling. “I promise you. Everything is okay.”

Somehow she believed it. She nodded mutedly.

“There’s nothing to worry about, right?” Nick continued, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on the back of her hand. The ticklish feeling was oddly grounding. “Are you and Flynn happy together?”

“Yes,” Carrie breathed.

“Does it matter what anyone else thinks of it?”

Carrie shrugged. “You. And the rest of our friends.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, so you don’t need to worry about that. And none of our friends have a problem with Alex and Willie – why would they have a problem with you and Flynn?”

She didn’t have an answer for that. A single tear slipped down her cheek and Nick pulled a fresh pack of tissues from his pocket. Gratefully, she took one and dabbed it away.

“It’s scary,” he said. “Of course it’s scary. But at the end of the day, it’s just you and the girl you care about being who you are. And that’s such a great thing. I guarantee that once you see Flynn tonight you’ll forget you were nervous at all in the first place.”

“You think so?” she asked weakly.

“I know so,” he replied, smiling.

There was a quiet pause in which Carrie wondered how she’d ever got lucky enough to have such wonderful people in her life.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

Nick playfully punched her arm, lightening the mood just like that. “Don’t even mention it. And hey – thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. I’m always here for you, you know that, right?”

She nodded. Of course she knew that.

“So,” Nick continued, “you like girls?”

Carrie giggled, still dabbing at her eyes, now more focused on not ruining her makeup than not crying. “Yes, I like girls.”

“And boys?” Nick asked hesitantly. Carrie shook her head. “Did you know that when we were dating?”

“No,” Carrie said. “I only figured it out a few months ago. Because of Flynn.”

To Carrie’s surprise, Nick beamed. She had expected him to be a little put out for reasons she couldn’t quite place, but if anything he looked happy.

“I’m glad you get to be yourself now,” he said.

Carrie pushed him playfully because her two options were joke about the situation or burst into tears, and she knew which one she would rather do.

She checked the time and realised that they definitely needed to leave sooner rather than later, so stood up and slipped her shoes on, putting the final touches to her outfit as Nick asked careful questions about her and Flynn. It was nice, finally being able to gush about her girlfriend without the fear of accidentally outing herself. As she was talking to Nick, she realised she should probably have told Flynn that Nick knew.

She sent her a quick text: I was nervous so I told Nick about us, sorry if that ruins things? Xx

To her relief, Flynn replied almost instantly with: lol it’s fine, I told Julie xx

Carrie couldn’t help but laugh to herself, mingled with a sigh of relief. At least Flynn was seemingly nervous too.

Luckily, Carrie’s house wasn’t too far away from Los Feliz. She and Nick took the short walk there, easy banter flowing between them – most of Carrie’s nerves had subsided, but there was still a nagging doubt at the back of her mind that maybe this was all a mistake. She tried to distract from it by focusing on her chat with Nick, making herself laugh a little louder than was perhaps natural, forcing smiles too wide. As they neared the entrance to the school, she couldn’t keep the act up anymore and let her smile fall.

Nick softly laid his hand on her back and Carrie took a deep breath.

“You got this,” he said encouragingly, smiling gently. “You’re Carrie Wilson – you can do anything you put your mind to.”

Hardly realising she was doing it, Carrie slipped her hand into Nick’s, some old comforting reminder of the unbreakable bond they had. It grounded her, even if it didn’t still her nerves.

Together they entered the school and made their way towards the hall where the pulsing music rocked the building’s foundations, blue and pink lights streaked into the hallway, and the vibrant cheers and chatter from the students of Los Feliz echoed like thunder. In some last-ditch grab for calm, Carrie stepped in ahead of Nick.

The hall had been decorated marvellously, but Carrie hardly saw it. The second she had walked in, her eyes had trained on the stage where Flynn was stood behind the DJ set. She looked radiant, her hair pulled away from her face with butterfly clips, her dress every shade of the sunset glowing in the fluorescent lights, her smile bright and gleeful. She looked distracted though – Carrie watched as Flynn’s eyes scanned the room, searching for something.

Or someone.

Searching for Carrie.

Her nerves were suddenly long gone. Her hand fell from Nick’s and she pushed her way through the crowd, ending up in front of the stage, directly in front of Flynn. Their eyes met, and Carrie knew that the happiness in Flynn’s eyes was mirrored in her own. Nick had been right; just seeing Flynn being her beautiful self had melted Carrie’s worries away.

“You made it!” Flynn called, moving her headphones away from her ears, yelling over the music. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now I’m with you,” Carrie called back. She was aware of how soppy the line was, how cheesy and predictable, but it was true. Seeing Flynn had made everything feel alright.

“I’ll come and catch up with you after I finish my set,” Flynn told her. “The others are sat over there, I’ll be as quick as I can!”

Waving goodbye, Carrie hurried over to where Flynn had pointed. Julie and Luke were sat close beside each other in their matching outfits, Luke talking Julie’s ear off as she watched him with a fond expression; Alex and Willie were with each other, hands clasped firmly together, heads bowed in private conversation; Nick had joined Reggie and the two were already wrapped up in an animated conversation. Carrie smiled to herself and sat down beside Julie.

Julie turned away from Luke momentarily, just long enough to give Carrie a smile that said a thousand things in just one second. There was one overwhelming message in it though: I’m happy for you both.

Carrie gave a tiny smile back, then turned to watch as Flynn wrapped up her set and left the stage empty, bounding over to the group. It was at that moment that Carrie realised they hadn’t exactly worked out how they were going to reveal to their friends that they were an item – this whole thing could turn incredibly awkward very quickly if neither of them knew what they were doing.

Thankfully, it seemed Flynn wasn’t as worried.

She reached the group, ignored their friends exclamations of, “Nice job, Flynn,” and, “You killed it,” in favour of cupping Carrie’s face in her hands and pressing a firm but loving kiss to her lips. Out of surprise, Carrie didn’t react, but Flynn pulled away quickly anyway, an ecstatic smile on her face. She pulled a chair up, sat beside Carrie, and gripped her hand tightly.

“Did you like my set?” Flynn asked, clearly knowing the answer.

“It was amazing,” Carrie gushed, fiddling with Flynn’s fingers between her own. “You were amazing.”

Flynn smiled and flicked her hair over her shoulder, proud of herself.

“Is this a thing now?”

Luke had interrupted their moment without a moment’s hesitation. He was leaned over the table past Julie (who was smirking knowingly), and it was only then that Carrie noticed she and Flynn had Alex, Willie, Reggie, and Nick’s eyes on them too. She looked in the only direction that felt safe – towards Flynn. Flynn smiled, pulled Carrie closer by her hand, and shrugged.

“Of course it’s a thing,” she said like it was obvious, like it was common knowledge.

There was no awkward pause, no judgemental looks, no hint that anyone might not have reacted positively. In fact, it was quite the opposite – Alex was out of his seat in a moment, catching Carrie in a hug and telling her in no uncertain terms that he was proud of her; Willie and Reggie reached over to Flynn and the three of them quickly performed the secret handshake they’d made a few months prior; Luke looked utterly dumbfounded, like he hadn’t seen this coming in the slightest, but he was grinning; and Julie and Nick were both watching Flynn and Carrie with private, kind smiles.

Carrie had never felt so loved.

The night flew past. It was a whirlwind of colour and smiles and laughter and dancing and food and drink and joy and love. Carrie had howled with laughter as Alex, Luke, and Reggie had attempted the lift from Dirty Dancing but failed miserably; she had danced along with Flynn, Willie, and Nick as Julie and the Phantoms performed their set; she pulled Flynn to sit in her lap when they both got too tired to carry on dancing.

Eventually, Carrie and Nick broke away from the group to get everyone drinks. While they were over at the refreshment table, Nick nudged Carrie with his shoulder.

“What?” she said.

He smiled and threw an arm around her shoulders. “I’m proud of you. And I love you.”

She rolled her eyes, supressing a smile. “Shut up.”

A moment later though, she added a quiet, “I love you too.”

The night began to draw to a close and the final songs started playing. Carrie was brimming with giddy excitement still, but it had dulled as exhaustion began to weigh her down. The room felt hazy and dizzy as everyone grew tired, but still Carrie wanted to stay there forever, beside Flynn (who somehow still looked full of energy), holding her hand and simply existing with her.

Until a slow song began to play and couples flooded the dance floor.

Julie and Luke were the first of their group to gravitate towards the gathering crowd, Alex and Willie hot on their heels. Reggie tugged Nick to the dance floor, telling him he didn’t want to be left out and they could dance together even if they weren’t a couple. So Flynn and Carrie were left together, hand in hand by the edge of the dance floor.

Flynn looked to Carrie, something sentimental and sweet in her depthless brown eyes. Carrie thought that if she looked into them for too long she’d never be able to look away – Flynn had that effect on her, always pulling her closer, drawing her in. She loved it more than words could say.

“May I have this dance?” Flynn offered, tone light and joking. It didn’t mean that Carrie missed the underlying nerves – it seemed that this was the first thing all night to really rattle Flynn. Something as simple as a slow dance.

So Carrie decided to be brave.

“You never have to ask to dance with me,” she said, beaming, and pulled Flynn onto the dance floor.

They fell into a soft rhythm naturally, in the centre of the floor, swaying in tandem with each other. Flynn’s arms were linked around Carrie’s neck, and Carrie planted her hands gently on Flynn’s waist. For a while, they simply looked at each other, the silence between them too meaningful to be broken by anything other than the slow song that played in the background. But after a while, Flynn rested her head on Carrie’s shoulder. Carrie felt Flynn’s eyes flutter shut against her skin, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m glad we did this,” she whispered, her own eyes falling shut as they swayed together. She wasn’t taking any notice of what she was saying, but she knew she meant every word. “This feels right. I’m so happy I get to be with you – you mean everything to me.”

“I love you,” Flynn said, her breath warm on Carrie’s neck and collarbone.

“I love you too,” she breathed.

That night, Flynn stayed at Carrie’s house because it was just that little bit closer to school than her own. By the time they arrived there, Carrie’s dad had gone to bed and the house was quiet and calm, only lit by the light of the moon, washing in through the large windows. Carrie led Flynn upstairs to her bedroom – both of them were so tired that they fell into Carrie’s bed without bothering to put their pyjamas on or get ready for bed in any way.

Carrie shuffled about, folding herself around Flynn, her face tucked into Flynn’s hair. Not for the first time, she thought about how lucky she was to have Flynn, this wonderful girl who was all hers, who loved her and was loved by her in return.

“Hey,” she whispered, half asleep already, “thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you,” Flynn yawned, eyes opening just enough to look at Carrie, a small smile on her face. “You’re the one who made it special, Care Bear. I’m proud of us.”

Carrie kissed her, just once, gently. It was the kind of soft kiss that felt like it would shatter the Earth if it ever stopped, or like Carrie’s heart would stop beating if Flynn ever stopped touching her.

“I’m proud of us too,” she whispered.

It was impossible to imagine that it was in this very room just hours before that Carrie had been dreading going to the dance. Now she was glad she had gone because it hadn’t been just another party, just another dance, and there certainly wouldn’t be another one like it for as long as she lived.

[salemcat09]

You want a request? What about drarry and something with healers? Like maybe one is a healer and has to treat the other, or perhaps they’re both healers and end up working together, whatever floats your boat!

First off I just want to say I am SO SO sorry for how long this took, there's no excuse I'm just lazy. Anyway ,thank you so much for the request! I apologize for the fact that kind of took the first part and ran with it, the story is kind of taking the request loosely but I hope you don't mind too much :-)

(Read below the cut)

St Mungo's Malady (drarry)

• malady /ˈmalədi/ noun

- a serious problem.

Work had been hectic at St Mungo's for days now. It was the start of summer and all the children were returning home from school, of course with that comes reckless kids getting injured in ridiculous ways.

Draco had just finished tiding up his equipment from the last patient and was ready to go home and rest when there was a gentle knock on his door. Sighing, he opened it.

"Sorry Draco, but Margaret's had to rush home and there are not enough people on the shift, could you stay for another hour? It'll only be a few patients, promise" It was his very stressed coworker, Hannah Abbott. He cursed his breath but smiled politely, not trying to get on anyone's bad side more than he already was after the war.

"Of course, send them through". He hurriedly gathered his things and set them out ready for his patient and sat in his desk chair waiting. He heard the slight click of Hannah's heels hurriedly tracking the hall to the waiting room and back. The door once again creaked open and Hannah guided two people in, a short and oddly familiar dark-haired man and a strangely blue-haired child, Draco assumed to be around six.

His coworker kindly handed him the papers he needed and gave a small shocked sounding gasp and what Draco supposed was meant to be a reassuring smile (that just made him anxious, because why would he need reassuring). The blonde read his expression and gave a small nod to the papers she'd given before backing out of the room.

Draco smiled at the two people in front of him and gestured for them to sit, the man sitting in the chair across from him and the child hopping onto the bed. He furrowed his brow at the man, trying to understand why he looked oh so familiar but he failed, instead shaking his head and introducing himself as Dr. Greengrass.

The name belonged to his ex-wife, whom he'd only been married to for a year and a half before the relationship ended (it was inevitable, they were both gay but settled for each other to please their parents, they were miserable). The pair were still good friends though, and Draco saw no need to change his name again, being that he'd fought so hard to change it in the first place.

He read over his papers quickly to see what exactly he was treating (he assumed) the child for, expecting to see something along the lines of "accidental magic gone wrong" or "fallen off his quidditch broom". He ended up seeing that the child had fallen from a tree with a suspected broken arm, but also saw something else.

He recognized that name. Edward Lupin. Lupin had been his defense against the dark arts teacher in his third year and he would never admit it but he had been his favorite teacher. Of course, that didn't last long because the teacher quit after only a year, and died not long after. He also knew the first name. His mother had said something about a cousin killed in the war, by his Aunt Bellatrix, who'd left a young child behind. He knew the father of the child had not been well accepted, something about being old and poor and a half breed. Judging by the last name it was likely his previous teacher.

This must be the child he thought to himself. He felt sorry for him, his cousin. Being left all alone. But he presumed he wasn't exactly alone, he had his grandmother and whoever this man was. It just occurred to him at that moment to look at the listed caregiver's name, find out who he was.

He inhaled sharply reading the name. The name he saw so much yet always dreaded. The name of someone who had taken up so much of his mind for almost his entire teenage years. The name of someone he hadn't seen in years. Harry Potter. He looked different. Older. Draco knew he was only 23, they were the same age. But he also knew how the stress of war could age you.

He composed himself and looked between the two, trying his best to remain professional as he treated his blue-haired patient. He could tell Potter was trying his best to do the same but both were failing and the conversation was beyond awkward. Surprisingly enough, however, Har- Potter wasn't seething in disgust, but instead seemed interested and somewhat concerned.

Luckily for Draco, all he had to do was check over Teddy's (as he'd been told he preferred to be called) arm and try and see how much damage was done, before referring him over to another department. As he was guiding the two out (the younger one excitedly bouncing up and down with the lollipop he'd been given) Potter turned to him. "Nice to see you, Draco" he smiled.

As politely as possible and trying not to be thrown off by the man's own politeness, he replied "Just doing my job, Potter". And with that his old nemesis and crush turned on his heel and left, Draco closing the door behind him.

He sighed heavily and sunk down the back of his office door. He prayed there were no more patients today and he could just get home and wipe the entire interaction from his memory.

-•-

As much as Draco tried, for weeks he couldn't get the encounter out of his head. So many thoughts and questions rushed through, so many awoken feelings he'd all but forgotten. Of course, his biggest question was what on earth was someone like Potter doing with his young cousin? And letting him fall from a height like that?!

He cringed in embarrassment at the thought. Why was caring so much? The was a stupid question, he knew exactly why. The obsession of his youth was creeping its way back in. Who knew such a small thing could set him back so far.

In the end, he settled on asking his mother. If he was being drawn to Potter again why not just....allow it? He was being daft and he knew it but his ego would always rise above that. He wasn't going to stalk Potter again, that would be childish...and mildly creepy to be honest. No, he was just going to ask Mother why Potter was with his cousin. That seemed somewhat normal.

He walked into his mother's bedroom and knocked lightly on the door. She raised her eyebrows slightly but made no effort to make conversation with Draco, no surprise there. Draco noticed that she was sewing and didn't want to be bothered but frankly, he couldn't care less. He cleared his throat and finally Narcissa sighed and turned to him.

"Yes, Draco?" Anxiety fueled up inside of the young man, tempting him to back out and run. But he had to know.

"Mother, what would Harry Potter possibly be doing with my cousin's child?" He tried to act calm but sweat was curating on his palms and it was impossible not to notice. His mouth was dry. There was no reason for behavior like this, he was acting like a silly school boy with a crush.

His mother rubbed between her eyes and let out another deep sigh. "As far as I am aware, Mr. Potter was made godfather at the time the child was born. I assume now that either my dear sister would be raising him, or Potter would. Why?" Her voice seethed with sarcasm when speaking of her "dear" sister. And it was evident by her voice she had little to no interest in what her son was saying, her temper running thin.

"He came in with Teddy at work today, as his caregiver. I was merely curious is all" Draco responded, not exactly lying but not exactly telling the whole truth either.

"Hm, very well be off then" As blunt as ever Narcissa requested he leave and Draco of course obeyed, thinking to himself he ought to work out his...struggles on his own.

-•-

It was many weeks before he saw Potter again. He half expected half hoped for him to appear at work, for Teddy of course. But in the end, he never showed. By the time the end of Summer was rolling around and leaves began to darken, Draco had given up. He knew he was being stupid, hoping his old nemesis from school would just happen to walk by him so he could get one more glimpse at that horrid person who caused him so much stress. He still hoped though. He was still disappointed when September 1st came and summer was officially over.

He was taking his daily stroll down the parks of muggle London, having just bought his morning coffee after a long night shift at St Mungo's. As per usual, he kept his head down. If anyone from school happened to see him he was sure they wouldn't notice. The Draco they knew had always kept his chin unbelievably and insufferably high much like Draco now, who was skittish and quiet always trying to avoid being seen. That's why he didn't notice the man of his dreams walking straight into him with another scorching hot coffee.

The two collided, the coffees exploding onto each other, and both of them crashing to the harsh concrete ground beneath them. Draco swiftly stood up and without thinking whipped out his wand to clean the mess. When he looked up from the small puddle of coffee (on both his sweater and the ground), he noticed the stranger had done the same, going to use magic to clean the mess. He had obviously noticed as well, and they shared at silent moment of solidarity before both muttering scorgify under their breath.

Draco kindly reached out a hand to help this person up, knowing the collision had been entirely his fault and wanting to make up for it. Much to his dismay, however, he met the eyes of the other. For a split second, he didn't realize, simply seeing the most gorgeous green eyes. But then it clicked. He drifted his eyes slightly up to the left of this so-called stranger's face. The white lines of a lightning bolt spread out, slightly raised above his dark skin. It was him.

The flustered blonde acknowledged he had been staring for a tad too long, and blushed profusely before pulling, who he discovered was, indeed, Potter, to his feet. He coughed awkwardly and brushed himself off, to give his hands something to do (he found himself doing that a lot, especially recently). He gave a polite smile and avoided Harry's painful attempts at eye contact before hurrying off, back in the direction he was going before the interruption.

"Draco wait!" Draco gasped slightly and turned, to see Potter desperately smiling at him. He cursed under his breath and prayed to Merlin that Harry wouldn't want to talk but simply exchange simple pleasantries before being off on his way. He could handle that at least. Despite his deep hatred of small talk, he had gathered quite good at it over the years and felt prepared enough for whatever 'how are you's and 'how have you been's Potter may feel necessary.

To his misfortune, Potter started with hello. That wasn't a good sign. Draco smiled politely once again and said hello back, still with an inkling of hope that this would be quick. He may have been wanting to speak with Harry for months, and he may not have left his mind, but he certainly wasn't prepared to have this meeting completely random on a busy street in London on an early Wednesday morning.

"How have you been? I've been hoping to catch you since we last bumped into each other but Ginny's schedule has been somewhat intense" the younger man chuckled and scratched the back of his neck just where his hair stopped most endearingly way possible. It wasn't that that caught him though. Ginny. Of course. Potter's little Hogwarts romance. He assumed they were married by now, much like he himself had been.

"I've been alright, thank you. Ginny?" He couldn't help himself but ask. All possibility of a quick conversation out the window. He knew they must be together, why else would his schedule be centered around hers. Potter chuckled again and raised his eyebrows before answering

"Yeah, the way I said that makes it sound like we're married or something, we're not. We're not even together. We live together and co-parent our son, James, together with Luna is all. And with Teddy around more it's always best to have some sort of other parental figure around for him. So our schedules tend to revolve around each other." Draco was stunned. On one hand, he was silently pleased to hear that Harry wasn't still with Weasley as he assumed. But son? He had no idea of Harry having a child, he thought he would have found out by now given he's the chosen one and all.

"You and Ginny aren't together? You're single then?" Draco cursed himself for the way he said that, he hadn't meant to come across so upfront he genuinely was just curious. He had a habit of saying things that sounded right to him but as soon as they were said aloud he would realize how wrong it sounded to anyone else. He played it cool and decided it was best he ignore the slip up for now, he could always lay awake in bed in three years time and go over what he could've done instead.

Luckily for him, Potter laughed. Not a chuckle but a genuine laugh. It even made Draco's lips twitch a tad, and neither noticed the other but both of their eyes had darted down to the other's mouth for just a second. "Ginny and I split up, yes. About three years ago and she's now in a long-term relationship with Luna, but we're still great friends. We have to be considering we only had a son a few weeks ago" he did that awkward neck scratch again that just killed Draco. "And for the record yes I am indeed single, I have had a few relationships here and there but as of currently I am. Gosh sounds like I'm writing for a dating site" Draco laughed this time.

The blonde turned his head to fill in time while thinking and noticed a park bench right next to the pair. He gestured and Harry nodded, both sitting down somewhat awkwardly next to each other, to continue the conversation. "Sorry about your coffee by the way" Draco muttered just now remembering how they'd found themselves here in the first place.

"It's fine, you'll just have to buy me a new one next time" Harry laughed. It took Draco a few beats to catch up and realise Potter was joking. He forced an awkward laugh before Harry spoke again. The younger man nudged the older, in a humorous friendly manner that confused the older "I mean unless you do actually want to get a coffee sometime? You'd still owe me of course" Draco panicked, this time he really didn't know if he was joking or not. To him it sounded serious and borderline flirtatious. He decided to play it safe, and respond with a half joke

"Yeah alright then" he laughed. Harry also laughed while looking almost directly into his eyes.

"Alright. I can uh give you my number and organize it? Or we could go now if you like, take this conversation with us" He was definitely serious now. And still tiptoeing on flirtatious but Draco was sure he imagined it. Draco nodded

"If you don't have elsewhere to be, I'm sure you do, you know, mister chosen one and all, but if you don't I wouldn't mind popping into the diner down the road" Harry laughed at the chosen one line, glad someone would finally take it lightly and joke about it for once.

"I do not have anything else to do, being the chosen one dosn't do much for your social life on a Wednesday morning it appears" He smiled at Draco and began to stand "Other than this of course" he teased

"I'm flattered Potter" Draco quipped back half sarcastically. He took a deep breath and reminded himself this was just coffee. Old school mates catching up, nothing more. He did admit it was strange though. That Harry, whom he had hated so deeply and who had hated him was suddenly so friendly and almost key word almost flirting with him and appeared to have asked him out in some strange twisted way.

Little did Draco know, Harry was going over the exact same things. Except he was much more confused. He had to admit he had been thinking about Draco an awful lot since their last meeting. And having discussed with Ginny and even his ex (but still good friend) Neville it was clear his feelings toward him from the start. In fact, it appeared everyone had realized but him. That was normal though, he tended to be oblivious. But why had Draco accepted? He was joking at first but judging by the other man's face he was considering it, so Harry took his shot. Still half-joking but then he agreed? He had expected Draco to have walked away right at the start but he stayed. And now they were heading to a diner together for coffee, still chit-chatting about their day to day lives since school ended.

Harry also thought back to when he was with George. He had truly liked him, loved him even, but they weren't a match and broke up after nearly three years. It had been like this. He acted like this. And he knew why because he was always the same with his crushes/partners. He was like this with Cho then Ginny, George, Neville, and now Draco. And while the name never ceased to shock him (though it did explain a lot about his school rivalry) he knew it was the same as all the others. What was different was how Draco was responding. He was responding how all his other partners had. No resentment, no weirdness, just as if they had always been friends and this was normal for them. Harry had no complaints but it was still strange.

Slowly they made their way to the diner. Draco holding the door open for Harry. They ordered their coffees and began the conversation all over again. They talked about eighth year, finding jobs after school, Draco's marriage, what St Mungos was like, and if being a healer was something Harry could possibly look into (he liked the idea Draco raised of becoming a Hogwarts nurse), and even talked about their sexualities, something Draco had never done before. Somewhere in this midst numbers had been shared, and they agreed to meet up again at the same park. Hopefully not by crashing into each other this time Harry made sure to add. And all was well.

End.

[deanswaywardgirl]

A Darker Reality

chevyA?N: This is the origin of my OC, Faith Delaney, in case any of you are curious. I don’t remember posting this, but if I did, lemme know. You know, if anyone runs across it or whatever. If not, well, here you go. 

Warnings: Protective Dean (yes that’s a warning because the protective part of him melts me), mentions of abuse, depression, anxiety

"Slut! Get the hell out of my sight!" Faith's father yelled, raising the frying pan to hit her. The edges of her visions darkened as the pan met the top of her head, causing her to cry out before forcing herself to her feet and fleeing to her bedroom, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. Tears blurred her vision as she raised her eyes to her Supernatural poster. Moving to sit underneath it, Faith curled up against the wall and closed her eyes, sobbing. She dreamed of either dying, or being a hunter like Dean and Sam. Free, safe...ish. 

No parents hitting you every chance they get. At this point in her life, Faith would rather be thrown around a room by a demon. But then, she was sure everybody would disagree and say she was being overdramatic, which only pissed Faith off. 'How the hell would they know what I prefer, or what I go through every hour of every day?' she thought to herself. Raising her eyes to the mirror, she looked like a horror movie reject. Her shirt was torn by cigarette burns. Her face, arms, and legs were black, blue, purple, and red from the blood running from multiple wounds. She knew her "parents" wouldn't kill her; they wouldn't have anyone to beat anymore. "I'm a real Max Miller," she told her reflection as she stitched herself up. That was when she caught sight of the scars on her wrists from self-abuse. "Without the powers, obviously." Her voice cracked, recalling how Max Miller's story in season 1 of Supernatural had ended, it sending a chill down her spine. It was then she thought about how close she's come to ending her life the same way. Faith put the stitch kit away and lifted a floorboard and pulled out her laptop a friend from highschool had given to her before she'd graduated. She turned on Nightmare from said show, and laid down, thinking of everything Supernatural had done for her. The comfort and feeling of safety it brought her as, everytime she watched it, she felt like the boys were in the room with her, protecting her. It was crazy, but it helped ease her fear of being attacked every second of every day. Licking her lips, she was soon fast asleep, listening to Sam and Dean talk. The volume was up high enough that it sounded like they were in the room with her. 

****************

Gasping awake, Faith shot up from her spot on the floor and breathed heavily, waiting for the blow that would never come. She sat up and looked around, growing confused. Her laptop, her 'bed, which consisted of several secretly acquired blankets piled on top of each other, her movies, her poster, even her mirror  were all gone. "What the hell?" she asked nobody in particular. She knew, without a doubt, her father would've beaten her senseless if he'd found her carefully hidden treasures. Getting to her feet, Faith could feel she was the only person in the house. Opening her door, she crept down the stairs and around the house until she was comfortably satisfied with her findings. Opening the front door, Faith went to take a step outside before she was violently thrown back into the house, sliding across the wood floors into the dining room. Shakily, she stood, rubbing her head and her back. Faith slowly approached the door, wondering if anyone outside the house had seen what had happened. It had felt like she had bounced off something. "I think you hit your head pretty hard, Faith, don't start losing it now." Sticking her hands up, she felt something like the outside of a tight bubble, something that was locking her inside. Faith rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Okay, okay, let's try this again." Going to take a step outside, Faith squealed as she was once again thrown back into the house, grunting as she stood up. "This can't be good." As if on cue, the door slammed shut and locked itself. "That damn Stay Puft Marshmellow Man," Faith growled before going back upstairs, done for the day. ******************* Days passed, but Faith never could find a way out of the house. She felt like a ghost in her own house, except she could touch everything in the house. Her sadness and depression soon became her only unwelcome companions, and soon, she was building the guts to take her own life. Tears fell down her cheeks as she put Dean's Samulet around her neck. "Who knows, Faith, maybe your version of Heaven is watching Supernatural with no interruptions, no beatings, no pain and no tears," she told herself as she loaded the gun in her hand. "You'll be safe, you'll be happy." Placing the gun against her chin, she aimed it toward her brain. Just then, the purr of a very familiar engine caught her attention and caused her to put the gun down and crawl over to the window, and gaze down in shock at a car she'd loved the minute she'd seen it, the one car she could see herself riding in every day. A car that was home for her two favorite men in the world. "Baby," she whispered and watched as two men stepped out, both familiar tell-tale men. "Oh my god," Faith gasped, the color draining from her face as she watched them approach the front door. "Oh god," she cried, and backed away from the window. "Okay, Faith, get a grip. This is obviously a dream. Take advantage of it, don't scare them off. Just be cool," she advised herself. As if on cue, the doorbell rang and Faith smiled as she took a deep breath descending the stairs, and another heading to the door. Opening the door, but standing as far inside as she could, she moved her eyes to both of the Winchesters' faces. "Hi, can I help you guys?" she asked. "Hey, I'm Agent Angus. This is my partner, Agent Young. We've been getting noise complaints from your neighbors. Complaints of screaming. Are you alright?" Sam asked. Faith smiled and licked her lips before shaking her head. "I'm fine, Sam," she replied before raising her hands, backing up into the houses, facing down their firearms. "Easy, guys, l'm no demon or shapeshifter or vampire, I promise. Let me prove it," she said and turned to Dean. "Silver blade and flask," she said and arched a brow at him. Dean glanced at Sam before lowering his gun and taking both out. Faith first took the flask and poured a little on her arm before touching the silver blade, handing the flask back. She then pulled up her upper lip so they could see she wasn't a vampire. "Guys, sit down, and I'll explain everything." She gestured to the couch and folded her hands in front of her. "Before I sit, would you guys like a coffee or anything?" she asked, rubbing the back of her neck. Dean looked at Sam and shrugged. "Coffee, please," he replied and gave her a tightened smile, placing his elbows on his knees. Faith nodded and went to the kitchen, soon coming back with two mugs of coffee before sitting across from them in a recliner. "Thank you, um..." Dean arched a brow, and Faith realized he wanted her name. "Oh, Faith. Faith Delaney. You can just call me Faith." "Faith, great. So, go ahead. How do you know Dean and I?" Sam asked, calmly. Faith licked her lips. "I'm Faith Delaney. I was born December 2, 1988 in Dallas, Texas and I've lived...er, existed, to regret that day ever since...until today." Rubbing her thighs, she sighed and rubbed her hands together. "But, I wasn't born a part of this world," she said, raising her blue eyes to theirs, watching as they glanced at each other in confusion, and turned back to her. "Did you really think that was gonna clear anything up?" Dean asked, one brow arching as he pursed his lips. Faith sighed and licked her lips. "Right, okay. Well, there's no easy way to put this, so I'm just gonna come right out and say it. Boys, I know you both because, where I'm from, you're television characters." Dean scoffed and stood up, shaking his head as he turned away from her. Faith swallowed hard and bowed her head, slightly flinching, expecting him to hit her, something Sam caught sight of. His brow furrowed as he filed that away for later. "I can prove it. Sam, what's the date today?" she asked, forcing her eyes to the younger Winchester.

"September 24, 2008. Why?" Sam countered. Faith's eyes moved to Dean, sympathy apparent in her features as she could tell how jumpy he was, his whole body tense and alert. "You just got back from Hell six days ago," she said, gently, and turned back to Sam, who was looking at Dean, Dean looking back at him, shock on both their faces. Sam then turned back to Faith. "Okay, here goes. Sam Winchester, you were born May 2, 1983 in Lawrence, Kansas to John and Mary Winchester. Dean, here, you were born the twenty-fourth of January in '79. Sam, you were six months old, Dean four years old, when Mary was killed by Azazel, the yellow eyed demon. He cursed you with visions of death, but we'll get to that later. John was distraught, completely broken-hearted. And angry. So angry, he became a hunter to get revenge, and so, you and Dean were raised into it. Something your mother never wanted, by the way. Dean, you embraced the hunter life when you were sixteen years old after killing a vampire, well, some kind of monster with your dad. Got the impala on your nineteenth birthday. But Sam," she turned her eyes back to the younger Winchester, "you didn't want any part of it, so you took off when you could and went to Stanford. Wanting to get into law school. There, you met Jessica Moore. From what I could tell, a strong and intelligent blond that ended up stealing that beautiful heart inside of you," she told him with a warm smile and a wink. "Two years or so later, your brother broke into your apartment and convinced you to go look for John, and you both ended up hunting A Woman in White. You never found John. Dean took you back home, and that same night, you lost Jessica. Same way you lost your mother." She swallowed hard and licked her lips. "Both of you hit the road after that, hunting wendigoes, shapeshifters, faced your first demon on an airplane. Phantom traveler. You guys even faced an Indian curse that had to do with bugs. I hated that episode, by the way. You went back home to Lawrence to face a poltergeist in your old house, two of them and one of them being your mother. She saved you both. Skip down the road, you lost your father to Yellow Eyes as well, after he made a deal to save Dean, who ended up in a coma after a terrible car accident. Dean, going crazy with guilt, made a deal to bring you back from the dead a year later. A year after that, you lost Dean to hellhounds. And now, you're back, and here we all are." She sighed and watched the two of them, both uncomfortable about a complete stranger telling them their whole life story. "And boys, that's just seasons one through three. We're just starting season four." Sam sighed and glanced up at Dean, who was obviously not buying any of it. Faith swallowed hard as she watched him, and stood up, her eyes full of sympathy. "Dean, I'm promising you this now, on my soul, I'm not lying to you. I have nothing to gain from lying, and I wouldn't lie to you. Not after everything the two of you have done for me....you two were there when I had no one. Hell, if you guys hadn't shown up when you did, I'd have shot myself upstairs. So, once again, you two have saved my life." Dean felt in his gut, despite what she was telling them being impossible, that she was telling the truth. Licking his lips, he sighed. "Okay," he finally spoke, "let's pretend you're telling us the truth. How are you here now? I mean, I assume that magic doesn't exist on the other side, so how'd you get here?" Faith shook her head. "I dunno. I went to sleep last night watching Nightmare, and woke up to a house that was completely void of people.  My laptop, all of my stuff was gone." Both boys' brows furrowed. "Nightmare?" Sam asked. "The case involving Max Miller, Sammy--er, Sam, I'm sorry." she said and shook her head with an apologetic smile. "Wait,you keep saying things like we saved your life, that you were alone without us, and you'd be a doornail upstairs if we hadn't shown up." Faith turned pained blue eyes up to him. "Were you depressed?" Dean asked, his brow furrowed. "That happens when you have a crappy home life. No disrespect to your parents, guys, but at least you two are free. But really, its all in the eyes of the beholder." "What do you mean?" Dean asked, his eyes moved over her. He saw the stitches, the scars, the bruises. "You were abused." Faith swallowed, pulling her sleeves down past her hands before wrapping her arms around herself, giving him a stiff nod without looking up at him. "He wasn't the only one doing the abusing, he just did most of it," she muttered, her thumb rubbing at her wrist. Dean clenched his jaw and closed his eyes before wiping his hand over his face. 

"Guys, there's something else. I can't leave the house, like, at all. When I first woke up, back in August, I tried walking outside just to get some fresh air and got thrown back in. It felt like I'd bounced off something. There's something wrong with this house, like its possessed or something. And before you suggest it, I'm not a ghost. I have a heartbeat." Faith took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead, exhausted. "I'm tired, stressed, and emotional. I'm all alone, and I'm on the verge of going stir crazy." She looked between the brothers, and watched as they exchanged soulful looks. "Go ahead and talk, guys, just please..." her voice cracked as she moved her eyes to Dean. "Please, Dean...don't leave me here alone. I don't wanna be alone anymore. Just help me leave this place. You don't trust me, I get it. I'm nobody to you, but I'm begging you here...I'm at your mercy," she whispered. Dean swallowed hard as he listened to her, feeling for this girl.

"Okay. Okay, Faith, look at me," he called to her, earning a teary look. "We'll help you, sweetheart." Sam stood and went to place his hand on her shoulder when she jumped back and crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam, its a habit." "No, I'm sorry, Faith." The girl shook her head with a warm smile. "You have nothing to apologize for. It'll just take some getting used to. Trusting people, that is." "Well, we won't hurt you, that's for sure, and we'll set you free. You'll be okay," Dean told her and winked, earning a smile from the girl. ******************* "Okay. So, we think a demon brought you here with a spell, but didn't finish it. And that's why you can't leave this place." "Slacker idjit," she said, and rolled her eyes, then glanced up at Dean who was slightly smirking down at her, then licked his lips. "Anyway, we asked a friend to help us out," he said and opened the door. "Faith, say hello to our little friend," he said with an attempt at an Italian accent. She chuckled and heard the sound of fluttering wings, then turned around to see Castiel standing there. "Hello, Faith," the angel said, simply. "Hey Cas. Good to meet the angel who pulled Dean out of the pit. Nice job with that," she said, her arms crossed over her chest. She noticed the angel give her a curious look before he circled her. "Now, I see why they attempted to bring her here." "What do you mean, Cas?" Dean asked, watching the angel. "Killing a Nephilim is one of the sixty-six seals. And with Faith, you're killing two birds with one stone. If they kill Faith, then not only is Lilith breaking another seal, but she's taking away Michael's second in command in the battle between Heaven and Hell." Faith's brow furrowed as she turned confused and slightly afraid blue eyes to Dean.

"What is he talking about?" she asked and turned to Castiel. "What do you mean by Nephilim? I'm human, Castiel!" she panicked. The angel moved up to her and stared deeply into her eyes, making Faith incredibly uncomfortable. "You have no memory of this? The angel that conceived you must've erased any memories you had. Faith, you're half arch-angel, half human. You're a Nephilim." The color drained from the girl's face as she felt like her lungs had stopped working and her legs had turned to jello. Gasping for breath, Faith searched for something to sit on. "No wonder we could never find her, the Heavenly Hosts erased her memories and put  her in a different realm," Castiel continued, not paying attention to the hyperventilating girl in front of him. Dean turned to his friend, who now stood at the window.

"Castiel, what do you mean you couldn't find her? You've known about her this whole time? Look, we're supposed to be helping this girl, not giving her a heartattack," Dean scolded the angel before kneeling down in front of Faith and took her hand. "Faith, look at me, and breathe. There you go," he said when her breathing started to slow and even out, "That's it, good girl." Faith relaxed in her chair, and forced her eyes from Dean to Castiel who was now staring at her. "If you're sure, then that means I've been from this world the entire time." Faith said and rubbed her forehead. "But why send me to that side of the fence? And why hand me over to those abusive..." Her eyes glowed a bright blue as lights blew out around her, her angel wings speading out behind her, the shadow of them on the wall behind her, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

"Faith! Calm down!" Castiel called to her, and saw no choice as he placed two fingers to her forehead, watching as she fell to the floor, fast asleep. "What the hell was that?" Dean growled at Cas before looking down at the sleeping girl at his feet. "Dean, this girl...it all makes sense now. Years ago, there was a rumor that a Nephilim had come into being, but we could never find it. Michael never comes to Earth, so we had no reason to suspect him of such treason. This girl dead will achieve three victories for the demons. One broken seal, she won't play her pivotal part in the apocalypse, and she's the Nephilim child of the highest archangel on the scale, Michael." Dean's eyes widened before they fell back down to the sleeping girl at his feet. Swallowing hard, he gently scooped her up into his arms and laid her on the bed, then turned back to Castiel. "You're sure about this?" he asked. "Yes." "How?" "Dean, I can see Michael's mark on her heart. Its how we tell who the angel father is. Almost like a brand. Nephilim are forbidden by the highest laws of Heaven which explains why he put her somewhere nobody would ever look. But still, I can't believe he'd do this."

"What's gonna happen to her?" Dean asked, glancing down at the sleeping girl. "I don't know." Dean's attention snapped to Castiel. "You're not gonna help her? Why? Cas, she's an innocent girl. She didn't ask for any of this, man, and that includes being created, or to be brought here by the damn demons that want her dead. She doesn't deserve to be killed like a common monster." He sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "We'll fix this, then we'll get her out of here, and take her to Bobby's, and go from there. I'm not leaving an innocent girl, who's not even a hunter, to fend for herself against Heaven and Hell, and everything else in between. Especially after everything she's already been through. As far as I can tell, she deserves better than both Michael and that son of a bitch on the other side," Dean said, shaking his head. *******************

Faith awoke to the purr of an engine that sounded like it was coming from beneath her. Blinking her eyes open, she glanced around the interior of the impala and couldn't help but smile. "You didn't leave me behind," she said, softly, earning Dean's attention. "I made you a promise, didn't I?" he asked her, and handed her a brown bag. "Bacon cheeseburger, no onions. You don't seem like a chick that likes onions," he told her, not taking his eyes off the road. "Good call," she said, glad he couldn't see the red tint in her cheeks, taking the burger out and biting into it, moaning. "Oh god, Dean, that's awesome." Dean smirked. "I have a feeling we're gonna be good friends." Faith smiled brightly and ate her burger quietly, not pushing her limits.

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