#suddenly throwing in that he was mute for a little bit when he was seven (???) and that he has a massive fucking scar on his face is a bit

[danzainosolitude]

I thought I swore off my hero academia years ago but here I am reading Yesterday Upon the Stair. Not particularly interesting (not a fan of Fanon Deku) and hard to read (cringy) at some points, but I was curious about what people were raving about. Maybe it’ll get better in the next 50 chapters. Just gotta hold out and maybe I’ll find a great fic. 4/10 so far.

[emeritusemeritus]

Vulnera Sanentur [Weasley Twins x Reader]

Part 8

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Title: Vulnera Sanentur

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley {established relationship}

Timeline: DH1&2- Initially set during the battle of the seven potters. Canon and certain plot points have been altered for the needs of the story.

Summary: The battle of the seven Potters throws your world into chaos when one of your boyfriend’s is cursed. As Snape’s ex-potions assistant and previous protégée, you recognise the inflicted curse immediately and demand answers from your mentor.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of war and Voldy, descriptions of injury and blood, descriptive smut, p in v sex, shower sex, tension. Outside sex. Semi public sex. None sexual nudity. Crying. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Arguments. Probably some cursing. Mentions of nightmares. Reader is part of the Order of the Phoenix. Mentions of death. Snakes. Mentions of Tonks’ pregnancy. Oh it got a angsty. So much angst I can’t tag it all. Not spellchecked nor beta read, we die like Madeye.

"It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster."

The doors to the Great Hall open before you and each Order member steps forward in formation, a beacon of strength as you all stand resolute, prepared to fight. You stand in front of Fred and George, beside Bill, finally feeling safe and secure despite facing your opponents head on.

Snape stares in stunned disbelief as he looks upon the Order, his gaze flicking through the formation of people before landing on you. He does an undeniable eye twitch as he looks into your harsh gaze and for a moment you forget that you are on opposing sides of this fight as you catch each other's eye.

"And I'm afraid it's quite extensive."

The students move back instinctively, stood in strong lines and divided by their houses. Snape turns back to Harry with one last lingering gaze at you, still mute and looking stunned.

The Carrows, who had been stood behind Snape, move to stand a little further apart, no longer blocked by their headmaster, though they look at him for guidance, unsure of how to proceed.

Harry's eyes narrow with malice as he stares at Snape, allowing the rage inside of him to overwhelm him as he spouts his next line.

"How dare you stand where he stood! Tell them how it was that night. Tell then how you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you... and killed him. Tell them!"

Snape's eyes convey nothing, his face a mask. He moves with an ambiguous flare that suggests he is reaching for his wand. Professor Mcgonagall, who had stood to the side with an ashen face all this time lunges forward with her wand outstretched, shoving Harry aside as the two professors stand off. You instantly withdraw your own wand, followed by the other order members who stand with rapt attention, ready for the singular catalyst. The students shuffle back further in fear and Snape momentarily lowers his wand, his resolve slipping briefly in a move that suggests he had not anticipated McGonagall's bravery nor her intention to protect Harry.

Suddenly, a volcanic blast erupts from Mcgonagall's wand that momentarily causes him to lose balance as he deflects the spell just in time. It's clear to you that it was a warning spell, a taster of what he would face should he enter a duel with her, her loyalty and devotion to protecting Harry and the rest of the school was not to be understated. Severus looks at her with wide eyes, the realisation that whatever cordial bond had been formed during their years of teaching was to be broken within seconds. She doesn't give him time to recover and sends another, more harsher, spell in his direction which she repeats over and over, slowly advancing with a stone cold look in her eyes. He manages to deflect the spells with a few near misses, sending the spell richocheting around the room as the students watch on with a mixture of fear and disbelief. His deflection hits the Carrows' standing behind him straight on, their bodies falling to the floor in two resounding thuds, their lives merely collateral damage in the chaos.

There's a singular moment when everything pauses, Snape having deflected the last of the blasts as he stands panting at the epicentre of the room, his eyes briefly meeting yours. It's brief but meaningful and no sooner had you registered his glance before he waves his wand in a circular motion in the air, the sweeping motion reducing the flames in the wall-fixed torches as a black smoke clouds surround him.

There's a whooshing noise as you watch Severus' body twist and formulate into a bat-like form of black smoke that flies with forceful velocity upwards and straight through the glass window as the figure escapes, flying out of the castle and into the night. 

Cheers erupt from the students and staff alike as Professor Mcgonagall lifts her wand once more and lights the torches once again to their full capacity, brightness illuminating the room once again.

You and the Order members move forward to shield the students, with you, Bill, Fred and George spreading out around the students at the back, Harry still stood in the middle.

In start contrast to the celebration around you, the feeling of impending doom slowly trickles in to your subconscious mind and quickly takes over your entire body like a venom spreading through your veins. Coldness spreads under your skin, the hairs at the back of your neck standing up as your insides mix with a cold, ominous feeling. And then, the pain starts.

A burning sensation fills your shoulder, a pain so hot that it feels ice cold, striking your raw shoulder, shooting up your neck and into your head. It's overwhelming and you feel yourself sway with dizziness, hardly able to breath as the pain strangles your senses. In your peripheral vision, you see Harry wincing and stumbling over and for just a second your eyes meet, drawn to each other, both of you realising that you were feeling the same thing. The pain in your shoulder only increases, your skin feeling like it was ripping open and someone was pouring acid into the wound, your hand and fingers tingling with pin sharp pricks with the intensity of the pain. The back of your head throbs, white hot pain searing through your skull and constricting around your temples; you can no longer pretend to be fine as your legs give out, your body not able to keep you upright any longer.

You clutch your shoulder trying anything to rid yourself of the agony, your eyes scrunching tight as the pain intensifies again both in your head and your shoulder. You don't notice that the lights have once again extinguished in the hall until you open your eyes, the pain in your mind suddenly stopping though your ears have begun ringing, the base of your ears already sore.

You see Fred and George panic as you collapse, desperately trying to reach out for you but they are stopped when the ceiling of the hall immediately clouds over with a worrying black cloud, thunder rumbling quietly as the room continues to darken.

You and Harry, both on the floor, share another look though this is pure fear, realising that you had both been targeted by something that had quickly disappeared, leaving you to question what was going to happen next.

A girl's scream rips your gaze away as you struggle to your feet, helped by George who scrambles to reach out for you and pull you up. You turn to look for the girl screaming but you can't see anything. Harry has gone to investigate the noise that seems to stop only moments later, when another girl screams from just behind you. You rush over to her through a sea of horrified students, stumping on shaky legs and find one of the Patil sisters clutching their head, hands over their ears with tears running down their face.

Suddenly you freeze as a snake like voice whispers in your ear, goosebumps raising onto your skin as the familiar pain blasts through your shoulder once again making you breathless. You look around for Harry to see if he was hearing this too but to your surprise, you instead see the people around you all with the same stricken and horrified expression, some with their hands over their ears and trying to shake their head. You realise then, that everyone was hearing the same thing, Voldemort entering each and every individuals mind.

"I know that many of you will want to fight. Some of you may even think this wise. But this is folly.

Give me Harry Potter. Do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have one hour."

The whisper recedes and you can slowly feel the blinding discomfort in your shoulder subside, your body beginning to tremble from the intensity of the torturous pain. It slips away from you in a slow moving wave and you try and take deep breaths as you regain control over yourself, your shoulder now aching and sore.

The clouds in the ceiling begin to disperse and return to normal, torches lighting once again as you look around once more, seeing everyone's focus on Harry, except for George and Fred who look worriedly are you.

There's a tension in the air as Voldemort's words resound in your mind, replaying like an evil haunting loop.

"What are you waiting for? Someone grab him!" Pansy Parkinson says from the Slytherin block, pointing her finger at him with wide eyes, clearly having been swayed by Voldemort's threats.

Instinctively, you step towards Harry at the very same time that Ginny does, blocking him from view. You stumble over to him, still weak and dizzy though you persevere as George reaches out for you as you leave his side, wordlessly protesting but you know what is right and what needs to be done. Your wand is in your hand ready but not aimed.

Hermione moves only a few seconds behind you, as does Ron. The members of Dumbledore's Army all flank you and surround Harry, as do some of the closer Order members, showing a fear of defiance. Fred and George keep you firmly between them.

Just as the tension builds, ready for a stand-off against the Slytherins, Filch bursts through the open doors holding Mrs Norris and runs through the centre of the hall, limping and bobbing as he runs.

"Students out of bed! Students in the corridors!"

You couldn't help but laugh, seeing that maybe not everything had changed at this school. The tension is broken immediately and you can't help but turn your head to see Fred also looking amused.

"They're supposed to be out of bed, you blithering idiot!" Mcgonagall says.

"Oh. Sorry, ma'am," Filch says dejectedly, keeping a firm hold on Mrs Norris, shrinking a little as he moves to turn back.

"As it turns out, Mr. Filch, your arrival is most opportune," Mcgonagall says as she briskly walks down the podium stairs towards Mr Filch, who eagerly awaits orders. "If you would, I'd like you to lead Miss Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin House from the Hall."

There's a disgruntled murmur from the Slytherin house which falls silent with one murderous look from Professor Mcgonagall.

"Right away," he says with a nod, beginning to turn before pausing, "Er, exactly where is it I'd be leadin' em to, ma'am?"

"The dungeons should do," Mcgonagall says coldly, though her eyes shine with a sort of victorious amusement as cheers erupt in the hall.

The Slytherin students are marched out of the hall towards the dungeons, leaving all the students remaining to be pro-Harry.

"Baby what happened?" George says quickly, reaching out for your arm, searching your face with wide, worried eyes.

"What was that princess? Are you okay?" Both of them look horrified but you put on a fake smile, trying to ignore their looks of concern.

"Just heard him first that's all," you lied, looking to find Harry in the sea of people.

"But your arm, you-."

"I need to get to Harry," you drag them along with their hands, hoping for them to follow you towards the Order members and fortunately enough, Remus intercepts once again, flagging them down to join the circle, thus giving you time to find Hermione.

The tone suddenly shifts once again and it's now time to raise the defences, to be prepared for the oncoming attack. You had to find the diadem. Students begin fleeing and the Order members gather once again, the plan falling into place. Harry, you and Hermione start off towards Ron who stands with the Order listening in to their plans. You can feel Fred looking at you but you wait for Harry, trying to think of your own best course of action.

"Potter," Mcgonagall says, stopping Harry. "It's good to see you." Her face flicks between Harry and you, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"You, too, Professor."

"Harry we need a plan!" Hermione says, trying to catch his attention.

"Our plans don't work Hermione, how many times do we have to prove that?" He says, rushing out to join you all. In the background you hear and feel giant thudding and see the statues and suits of armour coming to life from their plinths, dropping down with a resounding thud as they thunder past towards the viaduct, blocking off any entrance to the school.

Bill walks over to you and gives you one look that shows he knows exactly what the frown on your face is for, his eyes flicking to your shoulder having seen your pain only minutes ago.

"It's fine," you say quietly, trying to focus on the grouping, neither of you looking at the other but quietly whispering between yourselves as if you'd be reprimanded like a child in class hiding from the teacher.

"Okay tough girl," he says quietly with a smirk, "you know where I'll be if you need it numbing," he adds, turning away and focusing on Kingsley who addresses and delegates.

"Bridge is being destroyed as we speak, the teachers are casting defensive charms, Arthur you will lead the troops, Fred, George, you are on defence duty of the passageways," Kingsley instructs. "Madame Pomfrey is setting up a makeshift infirmity in the great hall."

"Is that wise?" You say, your words coming out before you could register them as the rest of the group turns to you. "Setting up medical relief in the atrium of the school? If the death eaters get past the defences it's the first place they'll attack, the most damage to inflict."

"Then we ensure they don't get past the defences," Kingsley says, but you don't agree with him in the slightest, knowing it was risky. You sigh but keep silent, turning to look at Hermione who looks zoned out completely, no doubt already setting a plan for what your group needs to do. "We meet in the battlements once our jobs are completed."

"Angel, come on," George ushers you to move with him and Fred but you don't move, casting a glance at Harry who watches on with a sorrowful look on his face, knowing that you must make your choice.

"I, can't," you say, diverting your eyes from George's insistent pleads. Fred protests, trying to reach for you but you stay put, knowing you can't go with them.

"No, we just got you back," Fred says, reaching for your hand.

"We can't lose you again," George adds, his eyes more pained than you'd ever seen them.

"You won't lose me, I just can't give up now, there's something I have to do first," you say, finding strength and trying to ignore their confused and pained eyes at your words. "As soon as I'm done I'll find you."

They protest but eventually relent as they see the determination in your eyes, first with Fred launching forward to press a strong and passionate kiss to your lips before hovering over you and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"I love you, be safe."

George mimics Fred's actions though his hands paw at your waist and for a moment you wonder if he'll actually let go.

"I love you," George says, his hands loosening but not quite pulling away.

"I love you both, so much. I'll be back with you soon."

"Don't keep us waiting Mrs Weasley," Fred says, bumping his brothers arm as he uses your words from before against you. Tears fill your eyes but you don't let them see, watching as they run out of the hall and towards the staircases. You feel lost again, the pain and loneliness from the months away slipping right back into you as they leave your side, but you don't have time to cry. You walk over to Hermione and Ron and run to catch up with Harry, finding him amongst the chaos of students running around.

"Harry, Y/n, Hermione and I have been thinking. It doesn't really matter if we find the Horcrux."

"What're you saying?" Harry says, frowning you at Ron.

"Unless we can destroy it," he explains. "So we were thinking."

"You were thinking. It's Ron's idea. And it's completely brilliant."

"You destroyed Tom Riddle's Diary with a Basilisk fang, right? Well, we know where we might find one, don't we?"

Harry ponders this for a moment before nodding, "okay." turning to you, "you with me?"

"Common room," you say with a nod of your head, and immediately turning up the stairs.

"West side, top of the spiral staircase!" You shouted down to Harry who had never even been near the Ravenclaw common room. You approached the eagle shaped knocker in the centre of the door and waited for it to speak, explaining that you must answer the riddle to get through.

"Glittering points that downward thrust, sparkling spears that never rust. What are they?" The knocker asks mysteriously, prompting you to think of the answer.

"Icicles!" You say quickly and you sigh a breath of relief when the door creaks open, allowing you entry.

Harry looks at you with raised eyebrows and your shrug with a smirk, "should have been a ravenclaw."

You find the Grey Lady eventually with Luna's help after finding nothing in the common room of any intellectual value and Harry speaks to her privately as you and Luna watch from the windows to see the protection spells forming and creating an orb like glow around the school. It's ominous and threatening though you can't deny there's a strange beauty to it and your thoughts drift to George and Fred, hoping that wherever they were, that they were okay.

"If you have to ask, you will never know, if you know, you need only ask," Harry mutters, walking out of the space he'd occupied with Helena. "Ravenclaws and riddles!" He mutters with a frown, seemingly not understanding what she was saying.

"Harry!" You call, chasing after him. "The room of requirement."

You and Harry run towards the room of requirement on the seventh floor, trying desperately to cut through the ever more frantic crowds.

Suddenly, from all around there was a giant bang, followed by multiple others and your stomach dropped in realisation that the defences had broken. Death eaters were inside the school.

You bolted with everything in you, trying to keep in line with Harry as you twisted and turned until you reached the seventh floor corridor, the bricks tumbling with explosions as the structure collapsed around you.

"Y/n!" Harry screams as you fall behind, tripping over the rubble underfoot and only a moment later do you manage to exit the dust and rubble, having stopped the debris falling with your wand at the last second. It was a close call, much too close for your liking and you heaved as you approached the blank wall to join Harry, entering the room of requirement as the door magically appeared.

You step inside and see the wall to wall treasures piled up. Almost immediately your shoulder begins to tingle, making you wince and attempt to roll your shoulder to alleviate the ache. Harry notices immediately and turns to you.

"You can feel it too can't you?" He states, though his eyes are questioning. You nod, looking away, in complete denial that you'd been somehow inflicted, cursed by the bite.

After facing Draco, Blaise and Goyle with the help of Ron and Hermione and narrowly avoiding death by fiendfyre you all managed to escape the room of requirement with the Horcrux. The diadem was promptly stabbed by Harry and kicked into the fire by Ron, destroying the Horcrux completely.

As soon as the basilisk fang pierced the diadem, your shoulder burned with an excruciating pain that made you fall to your knees, tears welling at your eyes. Hermione dropped down with you in concern as Harry looked on, his own exhaustion and pain overwhelming him as he looked at you, realising that something was wrong with your connection to the snake.

"She's a Horcrux," you bit out, the pain ebbing away just slightly, your voice strangled and breathy. "The snake, it's a Horcrux isn't it," you asked, turning to Harry. He gives a solemn nod, having seen that exactly information during his momentary connection to Voldemort as the now broken Horcrux killed off another piece of his fragmented soul.

"The last one," Harry confirms, his breathing laboured. You'd feared that very information since the moment you had woken after removing the venom from your arm, remembering the snarky remark you'd made about the snake being a Horcrux then, only now it was decidedly not funny anymore.

"So we need to find the Snake," Ron says, looking just as defeated as Hermione did at the revelation, knowing that Voldemort would keep an even closer eye on the snake now he was vulnerable, which meant either trying to pry the snake away or having to take on both of them together, a daunting thought which would inevitably be fatal.

As you rose up from the floor, you noticed that Ron and Hermione were holding hands and you found your smile, happy for them. Hermione blushed slightly as she noticed you looking and you looked between them with happy smiles, thankful for something good to come out of this hell.

"So where do we start?" Ron asks, keeping up with you, Hermione and Harry as you walk down the staircases, trying to sort your next plan of action.

"Hold up! We've forgotten someone!" Ron says suddenly, causing you all to come to a quick halt, looking around to see no one you hadn't anticipated to be with you.

"Who?" Asked hermione.

"The house elves! They'll all be down in the kitchen won't they?" He says, making Hermione freeze before pulling him by the jacket into a kiss, her arms flinging around him. It occurred to you then that Dobby had been working in the kitchens for a while, would the other house elves be able to decode Dobby's cryptic last words to you?

"Yes, let's go to the kitchens," you say with determination, already turning and setting off down towards the kitchens in the basement. The sea of frantic Hufflepuffs were hard to navigate as you descended the last of the stairs and rounded the corner leading to the brightly lit corridor lined with broad stone, multiple torches and vivid paintings of food. You walked with purpose towards the fruit bowl painting half way through the corridor and reached out to tickle the pear, as you had so many times before. The green door handle appeared almost instantly as the pear giggled, which you opened and stepped through, guiding the trio behind you. You were immediately met with nearly 100 hours elves still working away by the four replica tables from the great hall, some huddled around the huge fireplace on one side and some linked together to reach for the pans over their heads.

"Master," a gravelly, familiar voice says, causing you to turn in their direction.

"Kreacher," Harry says in surprise, looking at the house elf adorned in frayed, black clothing. It was a surprise to see him here, though you supposed that he found his way here after you didn't return to Grimmauld Place. "We've come to get you out, the war's starting, anyone who doesn't want to be here should go to safety now."

Kreacher looks around at his elf companions and mutters under his breath, taking one look at Harry before turning away. The truth was, you'd never been a fan of Kreacher, found him inordinately rude and untrustworthy. The comments he made about Fred and George being 'unnatural little beasts' some time ago had always stuck in your mind and calling Fred a 'nasty little breat of a blood traitor' didn't do him any favours in your eyes either.

You looked around, hoping to see one specific house elf that you favoured and squinted through the bustling bodies, trying to find the elf that was like finding a needle in a haystack. But then you spotted her, praying as you made your way over to her that she wasn't drunk on Butterbeer.

"Winky!"

"Miss y/n, how may I serve you? Is good for winky to see you miss y/n," she replies, face lighting up at seeing you walking towards her.

"Winky, I'm sorry I don't have much time," you explained, crouching down so that you were at similar heights, not ever watching to talk down to the hard working house elf. "I'm afraid I don't have good news, Dobby was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange." There was no easy way to break it to her and you couldn't let her carry on without knowing what had happened to her greatest friend. As predicted she immediately erupted with sobs, tears flowing down her little cheeks at the news.

"Winky, Winky, I'm sorry, I know how close you were. If I had more time," you veer off, reaching into your pocket to feel for the Lebetum. "Before he died, Dobby said that his boss had sent him, that he knew Harry and his friends were in danger, do you know anything about that?"

Trying to calm a house elf was exceedingly difficult and you could just about hear your words over her dramatic but warranted sobs. Surprisingly only a few moments later, she let la out a loud and nausea-inducing sniffle to clear her nose and nods gently, looking up into your face with the saddest little eyes you'd ever seen.

"The boss sent for Dobby, said he needed him to find you, that Harry was in danger, that you were in danger. Winky couldn't sleep that night, much worry for you," she hiccups, trying to hold back more tears.

"Winky," you say softly, trying to comfort her as you rest your hand on her bony little shoulder. "Winky who is the boss?"

She sniffles again, toying with the skirt of her makeshift dress, "the headmaster of course."

You freeze, her words slowly sinking in and you realise now how foolish you'd been. Dobby worked at Hogwarts and had been given an allowance for his work by Dumbledore, of course he would then see Severus as his boss, being the new headmaster.

"Winky, thank you so much. I'm very sorry about Dobby. Look, there's a war going on and I want you to be safe, you must get out of Hogwarts and go to safety. One day when this is all over, I'll take you to Dobby's grave if you'd like that."

Winky begins to cry again but it's not just sad tears any longer as she flings herself around you. You hold her sobbing form and try to console her for a moment but you know that you need to go, that time was against you.

"Will you help the others get out safely for me?" You ask, just as she begins to peel herself away from you. She nods and wipes her eyes with her arm.

"I have to go, be safe," you say, casting a glance at the trio who you can sense are watching you. You stand slowly and hold her shoulder one last time before turning away, feeling awful for leaving her but it was all you could do at this moment in time.

"It was Snape," you say, walking back to the group, seeing that Kreacher had now left. They look at you with confused faces and you realise that you'd left out some rather critical information. "The doe, it was Snape. Snape sent Dobby to Malfoy's murder mansion."

Harry begins to protest, his mouth opening but you shake your head, pulling out the Lebetum.

"I tried to summon the doe remember? That night outside the tent, I summoned the doe and it led us to the sword and then in the dungeons, I tried to summon the doe to help us get out but it never came out of the Lebetum, it disappeared from the glass. Then Dobby turned up and saved us, he said that his boss had sent him, remember?"

"Snape was helping us?" Hermione says with a disgruntled face, frown lines plucking at her forehead.

"Yeah he really helped George when he cursed his ear off," Ron says pointedly and you sigh.

"He didn't mean to, it was a misfire," you say, your eyebrows shooting up when you realise that you had just given away your secret as they all look at you with wide eyes. "I went after him that night, I screamed at him, he explained. There's something more to him, I don't believe he just turned his back on Dumbledore and the Order."

"Still, he's a deatheater," Ron argued, spitting the word out in indignation, ignoring your explanation entirely which you were thankful for.

"A deatheater that's saved our lives twice," you countered, crossing your arms over your chest, wincing a little from the movement which agitated your shoulder. "All I'm saying is that he might be able to help us now, maybe if we find him he could use his standing with Voldemort to distract him whilst we get the snake? Then it's just him."

"She does have a point," Hermione says, though you could tell the others were largely unconvinced, their perception and history with the Professor tainting their view now. "Maybe if we knew where the snake was?"

"Can you look mate, see inside of him? Maybe that would show us?" Ron asks, turning to Harry. Harry looks conflicted, not liking the idea of bridging the connection to Voldemort, even in this situation but he reluctantly agrees, shoulders sagging as he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and tries to focus.

"I can't see the snake," Harry says a minute later, his eyes dark and weary as he opens them, the strength of connection to Voldemort's mind had exhausted him. You all sighed, feeling a little defeated. You saw Harry look at you and you turned your head to face him, wordlessly conversing.

"No, not a chance," you said strongly, rejecting the idea completely that you could see Harry was trying to convey.

"You might have a link to the snake, a link he doesn't know about."

"What?" Hermione says, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Her shoulder, where she was attacked, every time Voldemort tries to connect to me it hurts her, doesn't it? When we destroyed the diadem you felt it too didn't you," Harry presses. You look away, nodding gently as your fears are brought to life, knowing that somehow you'd been cursed by the snake.

"It's okay," Harry says, trying to comfort you. "Just try to picture the snake, see if you can see anything."

You looked at the faces of your friends and briefly thought of your boyfriend that were somewhere on the castle, hopefully unharmed. If you could do this and slay the snake, you'd be back with them as soon as possible. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to calm yourself and empty your mind, allowing the darkness behind your eyelids to remain so. You pictured the snake, your shoulder and the night in Bathilda's house, the night your connection had been made. And suddenly, like an old muffle cinema screen, the darkness behind your eyes changed until you were slithering along the wet ground, grass moving along with your body until you happened upon wet, creaky goodness floorboards. You were in the body of the snake, slithering along the ground, the thoughts of the snake translating into your kind as it thought of returning to it's master, having heard the call to return. Panes of glass passed your peripheral vision and you caught sight of your body, the green hue and uniform blotched lighter patches across the main stump of body.

You opened your eyes and gasped, a cough choking your throat as you panicked, eyes blurry and unable to focus.

"It's okay, y/n, we're here, you're safe," Harry says, kneeling down beside you. It takes your eyes a moment to focus but they do eventually, though you were left panting and breathless, you're whole body fighting the urge to let out a shuddering sob.

"The boathouse, she's going to the boathouse."

You tried jumping to your feet but your legs were weak and you stumbled a little, a cold sensation still covering your body that you couldn't fight off, the feeling of being the snake was all over you.

"Do we have anything to kill it with?" You asked, turning to look at them. "Not even a basilisk fang?"

Hermione looks sheepish as Ron looks down at his feet.

"We sort of lost them in the skirmish, only managed to save the one we used to destroy the tiara thingy," Ron says, speaking for Hermione as he rubs the back of his head. 

"Griphook had the sword," Harry says, relaying the deal he'd made for information.

"Griphook is dead master, had you not heard? Goblins were massacred after they informed Voldemort that Miss Lestrange's vault had been broken into."

You felt awful, your stomach sinking as you realised that your actions had caused this massacre.

"That means the sword is no longer in his possession," Hermione whispers to Harry.

Suddenly, the Lebetum in your pocket begins shaking, a new feature you hadn't been come across yet. You pulled it out and looked at the glass, seeing the doe already at the glass window, without any need to think of a pleasant memory nor recite the words. In that moment, you knew something was very wrong, Severus was in danger.

Next

Taglist:

@missryerye @football1921@rk-ceres @weasleywheezer @lotusloisstuff @c0comichi @xthatpottahfanx @aigowen @fandom-taylor @weasleyluver85 @mariamkhaled87 @jewelsrules @ledger-kaos @bucksdonkey @clara-carpenter-morgan @jinxxangel13 @darkrozesblog @slytherin4536

[helpimhyperfixating]

Photos and Crushes - Cowboy AU Jotaro x Reader P1

Look, I’ve been playing some Red Dead Redemption 2 again and I just got this idea. Sooo, rooty-tooty-guns-n-shootie, takes place in 1887 ish, America.

Part 2  |  Part 3

Word Count: 7704

You are a kindhearted, positive, gentle person. Despite the harsh reality you live in, you try to see the good in people, even if it sometimes might not be there.

It has gotten you into plenty of trouble before but, it has gotten you so much more positivity as well.

Jotaro was one of those positive points. Angry, aggressive and dangerous in the eyes of others, you were one of the few who didn’t judge him for how he looked and carried himself. And thus, a miraculous friendship was born.

Whenever you would hang out together, people would always be wary of the strange duo, more so for your safety than what you would be up to. But you never paid them any mind. If they wanted to judge Jotaro, that was fine, but you wouldn’t let it ruin the time you had with him.

Jotaro, of course, noticed all the stares and whispers, but he didn’t give a shit.

When he had met you two years ago, you were being cornered by a couple of guys who had taken advantage of your kindness, pretending to ask if you could lead them to the general store, only to drag you into a secluded alleyway.

It just so happened that Jotaro had been across the street, seeing you happily chatting about the town to the boys, oblivious to the malicious glint in their eyes.

At first he didn’t want to get involved. He had seen you around before but never talked to you and if you were dumb enough to not see their true motive, why should he involve himself? But then you looked around and crossed eyes with him, and instead of instant swooning or darting your eyes away and cowering in fear, you sent him a polite smile and a wave, since you recognised him from around town. It surprised him, seeing you act so casually and greet him like a person.

Gritting his teeth, Jotaro looked down at his feet for a second, grabbing the bill of his hat in frustration, only to abruptly let it go and stand up, discreetly starting to follow you and the boys.

Not a few minutes later and the boys executed their plan, pulling you into an abandoned alley, much to your surprise. They didn’t get even twenty seconds before Jotaro slinked up behind them. Just the image and threat of the imposing nineteen year old was enough to get the boys to scamper off with their tails between their legs.

Upon being saved, you practically dragged Jotaro along, insisting on paying him a drink as thanks and from there on, the two of you hit it off.

Ever since then, you two regularly hung out. And Jotaro had taken it upon himself to become your self-appointed bodyguard.

Right now he was headed to the church.

The town you two lived in was of moderate size and, since there were so many people in one place, a small church was built there. But Jotaro wasn’t going to the church so he could pray to God, no, he was going because you were there.

He knew you had started teaching kids how to read. Most of them were homeless, piss-poor or sticky-fingered little brats, but you taught them all the same.

Jotaro had once pointed it out and asked if you knew what those kids were actually up to every day. You had answered with a shrug, saying it didn’t matter and that you just wanted to help them. Jotaro had just grumbled at that and pulled his hat down. It didn’t matter to him, as long as they kept their grubby hands off of your belongings and didn’t harm you.

He rounded a corner and the church finally came into view further down the dirt-path. For a second, Jotaro reconsidered whether he wanted to visit you or not. He had nothing to do and wanted to share in your company, but he also knew that if you weren’t done teaching yet, you would not go with him until you were; which would mean Jotaro either had to leave with his tail between his legs in front of a bunch of brats, or he had to sit down and endure their incessant squabbling.

Shaking his head, he just decided to go for it. Regrettably enough, Jotaro just really wanted to see you right now. Recently, a gang of thieves and murderers had swept through town and pretty much everyone had been holed up inside, making him unable to see or spend time with you.

Finally reaching the church, he looked past the gates to see you sitting on the steps, about eight kids with you, of which five were sitting around you, while the other three were fooling around on the small grass churchyard that sat in front of the steps.

God, you were beautiful. Jotaro could immediately tell some of these kids were violent, thieves and just straight nasty, yet you talked with them as if they were your own.

Your own.

Jesus, how his stomach twisted at the thought. You both were 21 now and Jotaro knew he should be looking to the future. If there was someone he wanted to be with, it was you. And just the thought of you, your belly swollen with his child? It shook him to the core.

As he reached the gate, he must have stared at you for a little too long because as soon as he had put two steps inside, the three boys that were kicking around on the grass stopped in front of him, seeming to be between the ages of eleven to thirteen.

“Whoa there, mister! What do you think you’re doing?” The dirty blond to his right said and Jotaro looked down at the boys, raising an eyebrow at them for stopping him. “We don’t like that look in your eyes.” The boy continued.

“Yeah, need we remind you you are on church grounds?”

“What were you staring at Miss Y/N for, mister? What do you want with her?” The third kid spoke up and Jotaro was now annoyed, feeling ticked off at their questioning.

“That’s my business, now get out of my way.” He glared, but though he could see he scared them, they held their ground.

“No! We are not letting you hurt her!”

“You wanna fight for it? Let’s go then!” The one right in front put his fists up.

“Yare yare daze, just move, kid.” Jotaro sighed, tilting his hat over his eyes to stay calm.

“Now you’ve done it! Haaa-!” The blond yelled out, punching Jotaro in the stomach, but the man didn’t even flinch. The kid’s eyes went big.

He looked to his friends for help and they got the hint, all three of them now rearing up for an attack as they each shouted a battle cry, going to throw punches while Jotaro grit his teeth in annoyance. As much as he despised these little shits, he couldn’t punch them, and so he just decided to let them vent and then move on.

Someone else however, heard the screaming. “Hey! What’s going o-! Oh! Hey, Jotaro!”

Your sudden happy greeting stopped the boys in their tracks and two of them stumbled as they made their punches go wide to miss the intimidating man.

Jotaro put his hand up in greeting and you beamed a smile, much to the confusion of the kids. You excused yourself from the five around you and walked over.

“So, what’s going on here?” You asked sweetly, yet there was a warning undertone in your voice.

“N-Nothing!” The blond squeaked, holding a not so convincing smile, his face screaming ‘guilty’.

“Good grief, I told you they were brats.” Jotaro once again lowered his hat over his eyes, feeling a kick to his shin that made him glare at the boy beside him, instantly making him run off in fear, the other two following not a second later.

“Oi, don’t be mean to my kids.” You scolded him, rapping your knuckles on the top of his head.

“They’re not your kids.” Jotaro deadpanned and you sputtered a bit.

“Yeah, well, not technically no, but-“

“That little shit stole from me two weeks ago.” He pointed to the auburn haired boy that had been standing to his left earlier.

“He did? What did he steal?” You questioned, your brows furrowing.

“Pack of cigarettes and my lighter. That shit ain’t cheap you know.” He grumbled as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Oi, stop swearing every other sentence. You’re on church grounds.” You lightly smacked him on the chest while Jotaro just gave you a look that said ‘does it look like I care?’. “So... why are you here?” You then asked, diverting the subject.

“Just came by to see you.” Jotaro shrugged.

“Aw, how sweet.” You teased a little but a small blush did make its way onto your cheeks, making Jotaro’s heart skip a beat. Could that mean you...? No, he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. “Why don’t you come sit down?” You suddenly asked and Jotaro looked down at you.

“No, I don’t-“

“Too bad, too late!” You grinned as you grabbed his hand out of his pocket and dragged him back to the stairs with you, not even giving him any time to protest. “Everyone, this is Jotaro! Jotaro, this is everyone.” You smiled as you introduced him to the terrified kids on the stairs.

A small girl then slowly stepped forward, her hair almost white-blonde and braided in two braids down the sides of her head.

She looked up at Jotaro with big eyes, the man staring back, before smiling wide, holding her arms up at him and making grabby hands. “Uh.” Jotaro hesitantly looked at you while you just held the biggest smile.

“That’s Amelia, she’s seven years old and mute.” You explained before urging Jotaro with your eyes to do as she asked and pick her up.

Sighing, he leaned down and grabbed the girl under her armpits, easily lifting her up into his arms and looping an arm under her to hold her. Amelia immediately wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, smiling brightly as she looked into his eyes.

Jotaro averted his gaze from the girl in his arms, over to you, to see you nearly melting on the spot. He rolled his eyes in response to you freaking out. “Happy?” He grumbled out and you just nodded vehemently.

A tugging broke Jotaro from watching you and he looked down behind him to see a little boy tugging on his pants, pointing up at him.

“You want to go up too?” You questioned and the boy nodded enthusiastically, shouting out a ‘yeah!’.

“Wait, Y/N-“ Before he could do anything about it, you had lifted the boy and placed him on Jotaro’s back, letting him cling by himself since Jotaro was using both hands to hold the girl.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the disgruntled look on Jotaro’s face as the boy giggled loudly, clinging tightly on his back.

The other children were suddenly a lot less terrified, as two others stood up and started tugging on his pants as well. It was clear that the younger kids had stayed around you as you taught the lesson, while the older three had drifted a bit away. This meant however, that Jotaro was now surrounded by small kids, two of them on top of him.

“I’m not a horse you know.” He grumbled, looking at the two hanging on his pants a little warily, watching where they put their hands.

“You’re not, but you’re just as tall, if not taller, and a lot less dangerous.” You grinned, earning a glare from the man though you knew there was no real hostility in it.

Just then, the doors to the church opened and a nun came walking out. “Ah, miss L/N! How goes the reading?” She questioned and you turned your gaze from watching Jotaro, to the nun.

“Ah! It’s going fine, thank you! And thank you again for letting me use this space.” You smiled sweetly.

“Of course, our doors are open for you anytime.” The nun smiled back before turning to see the remarkable sight of Jotaro, surrounded by kids, holding a small girl while another child clung to his back. “Mr. Kujo.” She smiled, pleasantly surprised.

“Hello, Sister.” Jotaro greeted back. He may be a hardass, but he at least had respect for those who deserved it, unlike a lot of other people.

“It is good to see you again. Coming to visit Y/N I see?” She smiled and Jotaro dipped his head a little in response, both as a way to answer yet also as a way to hide his eyes from the Sister, for he knew she could look through him as though he was shouting out his thoughts and emotions. “Well, no matter.” The nun smiled slyly to herself, seeing through the action. “Who here is hungry?” She then spoke out a little louder and almost every tiny head perked up.

You giggled at the sight and swiftly moved to behind Jotaro, grabbing onto the boy hanging there and lifting him down from his back while Jotaro himself carefully sat the girl down. In a matter of seconds, all of the kids were lined up in a row and quickly started following the nun into the church, the doors closing behind them and leaving you and Jotaro on the steps.

“Whoo, they are always a lively bunch.” You chuckled, turning a little to face Jotaro before walking up to the stairs and sitting down on them, grabbing the book you had been working on with them, as well as the notebook and pencil.

“What book were you reading?” Jotaro asked, sitting down next to you. You took notice of how close he sat though, his arm touching yours as you sat side by side.

“King Arthur and the knights of the round table.” You said it in a fancy manner and held the book up for him as he took it from your hands.

“Knights? Really?” He scoffed as he briefly leafed through the pages and you playfully bumped your shoulder into his.

“Hey! It’s good for their imagination.” You chuckled. “Besides, it needs to be engaging for them. Lord knows I can’t try to teach them to read with the kinds of books you read. ‘How wagons are assembled’ or ‘how nature works’. Oh! Oh! ‘How a steam train or steam boat functions’.” You giggled a little as you poked fun at him, lowering your voice near the end to match his as best you could as you spoke.

“That’s not what I sound like.” Jotaro rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Sure you don’t, tough boy.” You leaned forward until you could look at him from under the brim of his hat, now hovering over his lap as you cocked your head with a smirk. “I have heard you rant about inventions and discoveries made more than anyone else, I’m pretty sure.”

Jotaro just scoffed and looked to the side, unable to hide his slightly embarrassed blush since you were right below him. Oh god, you were right below him, your face so close to his. He only needed to lean down a little and- Clearing his throat, Jotaro leaned back a bit, giving himself some space and prompting you to sit up again, none the wiser from what was going through his head.

“Hey, did you know they were setting up a new shop last week? Apparently you can get your picture taken there.” You suddenly started, looking forward through the churchyard as you mused.

“Oh?” Jotaro spoke, trying to sound disinterested yet listening intently.

“Would you... perhaps want to take a picture with me there?” You hesitantly asked and Jotaro’s heart skipped a beat though he didn’t show it. “I always wanted to see what I would look like on one of those.”

“Not very different from what you look like when you look in a mirror.” Jotaro cringed at how roughly that came out but he had said it before he could stop himself. He just hoped it didn’t dissuade you from wanting to take a picture with him.

“Say, are you insulting me, Mr. Kujo?” You teased lightheartedly, nudging him again and a tiny relieved smile played on Jotaro’s lips.

“I wouldn’t dream of ever insulting you.”

“Alright, now I know you’re just taking a piss.” You laughed. “Either way, what do you say we-!” You suddenly stopped your excited exclamation, catching Jotaro’s attention. “Oh wait, it’d probably cost a lot huh? Shoot, never mind, we can go do something else...” You deflated but quickly shook it off, perking up in feigned happiness again. “Do you have anything in mind!?”

Jotaro however, studied your face close. He hated to see how your excitement got washed away so quickly. “Yare yare.” Standing up from the stairs, he held his right hand out to you.

“Oh, you’ve got something?” You asked, seemingly back to your happy self as you put your hand in his and allowed him to pull you up.

“Let’s go get that picture taken.”

Your face turned into shock as he said that. “Wait, really? But I just said- I- you- You mean you’ll pay?”

“As long as I can be in it as well, yes.” Jotaro gently tugged your hand, still holding onto it as he now used it to coax you along. “Let’s go then, we don’t know when it closes and it is getting late.”

Jotaro started walking, very consciously keeping hold of your hand. As you fell into step with him, excitedly buzzing, he made a bold move as he re-gripped your hand to fit more comfortably in his; as if you were intentionally holding hands from the beginning instead of just still awkwardly holding on after Jotaro pulled you to your feet.

You didn’t seem any wiser while Jotaro felt his heart pounding in his throat, relishing in how his hand fit around yours, your hand unconsciously still holding onto his. He was so tempted to rub his thumb over the back of your palm or to actually entwine his fingers with yours, but decided against it since that would definitely draw your attention to your hands and he didn’t want that. Right now, he would just hold on, silently musing to himself how small your hand was compared to his and how right it felt to have your hand sat in his.

In this moment, it was one of the few times Jotaro was actually glad for your obliviousness.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to reach the photography shop and you both stood in front of the door, slogans and examples of pictures slapped everywhere to lure people in.

‘Get your photo taken with your loved one and display the memory, so you may never forget!’

That and more was plastered on the display window, yet Jotaro couldn’t take his eyes off of that particular one. ‘With your loved one’. His attention automatically reverted back to how you were still holding hands and he had to try everything in his power to keep his face from heating up.

“Let’s go in!” You jumped once, breaking him out of his focus as you started dragging him to the door, opening it not a second later, the tall male in tow.

“Good afternoon, how can I help the lovely couple tonight?” A man standing in front of a camera asked when he saw you two come in, hand in hand.

“Oh, uh. We’re, uh.” Your face burst into flame as he commented that, your eyes drifted up to Jotaro and then to your entwined hands, realising you were still holding onto him.

You quickly made a move to let him go but Jotaro kept holding on, preventing you from pulling away as he squeezed your hand a little tighter.

“We’re here to get a picture taken, old man. What else.” He snapped a little and you sighed good-naturedly. Good ol’ Jotaro: intimidating people and being scary upon meeting them for the first time.

“Oh, haha, of course.” The owner chuckled nervously, though you swore you could hear him mutter a ‘I’m not that old’ as he turned to check his camera. “Uhm, you can just take your place in front of the background there.” He then smiled, motioning to the wall the camera was set up in front of.

The ‘background’ was a painting of an open plain, a rock formation with a modest waterfall in the back, as well as an eagle in the right hand corner.

Your jittery yet excited nerves for doing this came back, making you forget the flustering comment of the shop owner and you started walking towards the wall.

“Hope it’s gonna turn out alright.” You grinned up at Jotaro and he sent you a rare reassuring smile. It was small, but it was there, and suddenly, you were completely calm and ready to get this photo taken. The two of you took your place, Jotaro standing right up against you, making you blush.

“Alright.” The owner nervously rubbed his hands together, obviously still a bit scared of the nearly two meter tall man in black. “Ah, you are already in the perfect positions, you are naturals at this.” He tried to crack a joke but it came out a little awkward and he cleared his throat. “Look here please.” The man pointed at a spot right above the camera before ducking behind the device.

And just like that, the photos were taken.

After this entire time, Jotaro relinquished his hold on your hand, figuring it was best to let go, lest he was too obvious and even you would notice. Hell you, probably already did but thought nothing of it. Your obliviousness shining through again.

In the end, the two of you picked out the two best ones, nearly identical, and took one each.

That night, as Jotaro walked back home, he admired the photograph in his hand. He didn’t care much for how he looked in it, but it was the exact opposite with you. You looked so happy in it. Your smile shining bright and your energy nearly radiating off of it even through the photo. Yet what Jotaro treasured more than all in it, was the way your hands were entwined in the photo. Right in the middle, screaming for him to look at it. And look he did, feeling his cheeks heat up a little.

Opening the door to his home, he was immediately bombarded as his mother latched to him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Jotaro, you’re home!” She cheered happily. “You missed dinner so I put some to the side for you.” She smiled and Jotaro just huffed a little, pushing her off of himself. He wasn’t even hungry, he just wanted to go to bed.

That wish was short-lived however, as someone suddenly tackled him from behind, making him face plant into the floor.

“Jotaro! My boy!” The oh-so familiar voice of his grandfather sounded.

Question marks went off in the younger man’s head. His mother hadn’t told him the old man was coming for a visit?

“Get off.” Jotaro grunted as he attempted to shake his grandpa off but it was futile, as Joseph instead put him into a deadlock, pulling his arm behind his back and trapping it there, which made his eyes widen. The fucking photograph was in that hand and if that old man got even a single crinkle or fold in it, he would have his head.

“Good evening, Jotaro.” A familiar accented voice spoke and Jotaro looked up from under his hat to see Caesar sitting in the arm chair facing him, giving a disappointed look at Joseph.

“Caesar.” Jotaro grunted back a greeting as Joseph found that exact moment to twist his arm a little further.

“Oh, what’s this?” The voice on top suddenly curiously spoke and Jotaro felt the photograph be swiped from his fingers, making his eyes widen.

His grandfather was an expert at pinning people down thanks to years of random fights and being friends with Caesar. Yet you should never underestimate a desperate man trying to keep his dignity who also has a temper to match.

Thanks to Joseph using one hand to look at the paper in his hand, he had lost his hold on Jotaro’s right arm and the young man took full use of it.

Pushing himself up a bit, he threw the older man off of himself and turned around to swipe the photo back, but Joseph was way quicker and had used the momentum to get to his feet and run over to Caesar, standing behind his chair as he turned the paper around, feasting his eyes on the photo again.

“What’s this, Jotaro? Who’s that with you?” He asked in disbelief and Jotaro clenched his jaw. His mother, upon hearing her father say the sentence, zipped over and curiously looked at the photo as well, gasping a little once she saw it, before looking up at her son and sending him a giant grin.

Jotaro pulled his hat down a little and stomped over, attempting to swipe at the photo. “Give it back.” He growled as he tried to grab it, but Joseph moved it out of his reach.

“No way! You have some explaining to do, I mean, you’re smiling in this!”

“I’m not.” Jotaro grumbled, once again lunging forward to get it back, but Joseph tittered away, way too giddy and happy about what he was finding out about his grandson.

“Yes you are! Look! It’s small, but it’s there!” He turned the photo around and pointed at Jotaro’s face in it. Holly took a closer look and her proud grin grew even more.

“Would you stop, old man? It’s nothing, so just give it back.” Jotaro once again walked across the room to try and reach his grandfather, but Joseph danced out of his grasp once more, skipping over to Caesar who had stayed seated in this entire ordeal and showing the photo to his lifelong friend.

“Look Caesar! You see it too right?”

Caesar, who had had his eyes closed, opened them and slowly looked up at Joseph, grasping the photo with his left hand before harshly grasping his friend’s wrist, prying his hand away from the photo before getting out of the chair and moving over to the younger man.

“Here you go.” He spoke as he returned the photo.

“Thanks.” Jotaro spoke, a little unsure of what to say.

“Tell her how you feel soon. Don’t let it slip through your fingers.” Jotaro blinked a few times, feeling his face heat up a little as the Italian man gave the advice, speaking loud enough for only him to hear it. With a soft tug, he pulled down the brim of his hat over his eyes and nodded, quickly making his way out of the room so he could finally just go to bed.

As he walked through the hall, he heard his grandpa’s despairing cries, questioning Caesar why he would do that, and a small smirk appeared on Jotaro’s face. He could always trust in Caesar.

- - - -

Two weeks had passed and Jotaro was sitting on the steps of the church. To his left, he heard your gentle and caring voice reading passages of the book to the kids around. To his right, the little girl, Amelia, was practically glued to his hip as he read his own book, just silently sitting through your class.

He had been doing this more and more frequently, just coming by every once in a while, not really saying anything and just sitting with you as you taught the kids.

As he turned the page of his book, he suddenly felt something being lifted from his front pocket however and he snapped his head up, looking to his left to see the dirty blond, who he now knew as Jack, lifting his pocket watch from its place. The boy immediately noticed he was found out and bolted, laughing as he ran across the grass to the fences on the other side.

Jotaro however, was pissed as he slammed his book shut and walked over to Jack with large strides. “Give it back.” He spoke lowly, a threatening glare directed at the boy.

Jotaro physically saw him gulp, smirking a little to himself to see he still had his intimidating presence with these kids. But it was short lived, since Jack seemingly found a bit of courage again - continuing on with the plan, unknown to Jotaro.

“Why? I’m sure you can buy another one. Unless... this one is special?” Jotaro narrowed his eyes dangerously and Jack could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked open the watch and there was a triumphant glint in his eyes. “Aha.” He spoke and smirked up at Jotaro, only for that smirk to leave as he saw the dangerous aura radiating off of the man. “Tommy!” He yelled and threw the pocket watch, making Jotaro’s heart sink for a moment, scared it would drop on the stone steps and break.

“You little shit.” He glared at Jack before turning around to Tommy, who was standing on the steps of the church.

“Hey, what’s going on!” You called out, looking up from your book while the children around were trying to write letters in your notebook.

Tommy immediately took this chance and rushed over to you when Jotaro started taking threatening strides towards the boy. He didn’t want to hit a kid but so help him god, he would get that pocket watch back. Jotaro wasn’t fast enough however, as Tommy zipped over to you and flipped the pocket watch open, shoving it in your face.

Jotaro faltered in his steps, nervous sweat rolling down the side of his face. Those little brats had planned this all out. They knew. Jotaro hated to say it, but he had made it too obvious that he was sweet on you and they knew.

“Jotaro!” Your exclamation of surprise ripped him from his thoughts and he looked over at you, doing his best to keep an expression of indifference. “How did you manage to do this? I had to make a bigger frame to fit mine!” You turned the pocket watch around so he could see the inside, showing the clock on the right while on the left, on the inside of the cover, he now had a perfect view of the photograph of the two of you that he had stuck in there.

Jack and Tommy groaned while Jotaro’s shoulders slumped a bit. In both relief, as well as disappointment for some reason, seeing you were none the wiser.

Jotaro just waved his hand a bit, dismissing your question as he walked over and took the pocket watch back from you. Looking it over to see if it was damaged but luckily, it wasn’t. Concluding that, he flipped it shut and put it back in the pocket where it belonged.

“Well?” You looked up at him with hopeful and curious eyes and Jotaro pulled his hat down over his face. You looked... cute.

Jotaro didn’t lift his hat as he took his spot next to you again. “I went back and had a photograph taken of the photograph.” He said through gritted teeth, reluctantly telling you how he did it, embarrassment flooding through him over having to admit that.

“Oh, that’s so clever! I should do something like that as well.” You giggled, then dreamingly looked forward.

You were pulled out of it by a small tug on your sleeve. “Miss Y/N, can we have a break?” The small boy asked and you smiled sweetly, nodding.

“Of course, you go ahead and play for a bit.” You shoo’ed all the kids and they erupted into talk and laughter, all of them getting up and finding a place to play.

As the kids were running around a bit during the break, a shadow got cast over a specific pair of boys, making them freeze and slowly turn around to the imposing figure. “Tommy. Jack. Any of you touch my shit ever again and I will make you severely regret it.” The threat and danger in Jotaro’s voice was real and the boys swallowed heavily, nodding frantically before busting out into a sprint, running away as far as possible before squeaking as Jotaro made his way back over to them, since they had ran towards where you sat on the steps and that was where Jotaro wanted to sit down again as well.

“Did you have to scare them like that?” You questioned with a chuckle and Jotaro just huffed in amusement as he sat down.

“Yes. They need to know not to take my stuff.”

“You know, you’re right. That is a good lesson to learn.” You chuckled, only for your smile to slowly dim down as your attention got taken by several pairs of horse hooves thumping across the ground. “What’s that?” You questioned as you looked at the large group of riders, watching them trot closer and closer, slowing down the closer they got to the church. All of them carried rather large guns and other weapons.

You nervously looked up at Jotaro, who had his eyes narrowed as he looked at the large group as well. “Stay alert.” He spoke quietly and you nodded, the both of you getting up.

Jotaro whistled loud and curtly, gaining the attention of all the kids. You quickly motioned your arms for all of them to come, not wanting to verbally shout it just in case the riders would hear and take it the wrong way.

Taking the hint, the kids all started to run into your arms and Jotaro took a step forward, holding his arms out a little to keep you and the children behind him.

Everyone had fearful looks as Amelia was the last to reach you, running behind you and around, hanging on the back of Jotaro’s pants. It wasn’t a few seconds later that the riders all stopped in front of the church.

“Howdy, partner.” The leader of the herd spoke up after a few seconds but Jotaro immediately picked up on the false friendliness in the voice.

“What do you want?” He bit back, glaring vehemently.

“Whoa, so angry.” The man mocked with a large grin, turning back to his friends behind him who laughed softly. “You should show me some respect you know.” He then continued, turning back to Jotaro with that grin still on his face. “Did your momma never teach you respect?” He continued jesting but Jotaro didn’t give any reaction, just holding the intimidating glare on the man.

This made him feel as if he was losing grip of the situation, so the man decided to take another approach and laughed a bit while calling out. “Why don’t I teach you some then?” He jokingly pointed his gun at Jotaro and the children whimpered and gasped in fear from behind him. Your grip on his trenchcoat tightened and Jotaro’s reaction was immediate, his right hand pulling back to behind his back before snapping forward, a gun now pointed at the man’s head.

“Try it.” Jotaro’s voice was low and dangerous and even the rider took note of it. “I know exactly what you’re up to. This is a community church, it has nothing of value for you, so take your little group and piss off. You’re scaring the children.” Jotaro calmly spoke as he stared down the barrel of the gun, showing not even a hint of fear, nervousness or hesitation.

“Now... calm down, friend.” The man tried, re-gripping his gun a little nervously.

“We ain’t friends and you know it. Get the hell away from here.” Jotaro’s hand was as steady as ever, his gun constantly pointed at the man’s head without even a single tremor or twitch from holding the iron up.

This angered the man. “You seem to not understand that you are outnumbered here, friend.” He spoke, calling Jotaro that again on purpose, signalling his mates in the meantime, who all grabbed a gun and pointed it at Jotaro as well.

The children cowered even more, small shrieks leaving them and you tried to shush them. “It’s alright, just stay behind me and Jotaro. You’re alright.” You spoke in a hushed tone, petting the heads of those you could reach. You discreetly saw the door to the church open and saw the Sister poke her head out. You quickly and frantically shook your head, a message for her to stay where she was.

“Are you really going to threaten children on church grounds?” Jotaro questioned calmly and the leader growled a bit in anger.

“Stop acting so smug or I’ll blast your head off! And that of that girl too! Give those brats something to look at!”

“Threaten her again and I’ll make sure you’ll never speak again.” Jotaro’s retort was immediate as he glared at the man, lowering his gun just a little to point directly at the mouth of the loud-mouthed bastard.

“Hit a nerve?” The guy smirked. “I’ll say it again, you’re outnumbered.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, son.” A new voice spoke up and everyone’s head whipped to the source. “What’s going on here?” The sheriff spoke, tilting his head a little while two of his deputies joined his side, all of them having their hands hovering over the guns strapped to their belts.

Now that there were a lot more possible enemies, the man wavered. Slowly and reluctantly, he lowered his gun. “Nothing, sheriff. Just a bit of harmless fun.” He spoke and his friends took it as a sign to lower their guns as well.

“Was it? ‘Cause as far as I can see you are threatening innocent children. Now, will you move on yourself or will we have a problem?”

“Tch.” The man gritted his teeth before hitting the reins of his horse, simultaneously softly kicking his feet into its belly, making the animal start calmly stepping forward, the rest of his group following his example as they started riding away at a slow pace.

“Follow them and make sure they leave proper.” The sheriff whispered to his deputies before leaving them to their business and walking over to the gate leading into the church grounds.

Jotaro kept his gun up the entire time the gang of riders were riding away, all of them sending occasional glances back that kept Jotaro on high alert. Only once the deputies rode past and started tailing the men did he finally lower it.

Once he un-cocked the gun and sighed out, the children still cowering behind the two of you finally relaxed a little, two of them bursting into tears as the sheriff walked through the fence and towards the steps of the church - to which you immediately started trying to console them.

“Holy crap! You just won that standoff singlehandedly!!” Jack shouted as the sheriff stepped into earshot, the boy jumping in front of Jotaro with his hands thrown in the air as he looked at the man before him in awe.

“That was so cool!! It was like twenty to one and you still won!” Tommy piped in with an exaggerated number and Jotaro lowered his hat over his eyes, softly letting out his usual catchphrase.

“Are you boys all alright?” The sheriff walked up and Jotaro lifted his gaze again, briefly looking back to see you had succeeded in calming the children down, four of them now clinging to you in a group hug as the doors to the church opened properly, the nun quickly walking out to help comfort the children.

“Yes. Thank you for stepping in.” Jotaro spoke back, nonchalantly putting his gun back in its place, hidden behind his trenchcoat.

“Well, that’s my job.” The sheriff joked before turning a little more serious. “What happened exactly?”

Jotaro looked back at you once again, seeing you now quietly talking with the kids to calm them down. This earned him an elbow poke in the ribs from Tommy and he glared at the kid, making said boy giggle to himself and drag Jack with him, running over to you.

“They came to rob the church, believing it to have many riches like those city churches have, probably.” Jotaro sounded a little indifferent as he turned back to look forward and the sheriff hummed.

“Mr. Kujo saved us, sheriff Miller.” The sister spoke as she walked up, placing a hand on Jotaro’s shoulder blade. Jotaro just looked down at the nun, getting a grateful smile from her and he gave a small barely noticeable nod back.

Something suddenly latched onto his right leg and Jotaro looked down to see Amelia hanging on his pant leg, burying her head into the fabric.

Jotaro just looked at her for a second. He didn’t know what he had done to get her like this, but Amelia had really attached herself to him. Jotaro on the other hand, still had no idea what to do around children. He awkwardly patted her on her head, making her look up. “Go to Y/N, it’s alright.” He spoke, trying his best to sound gentle but it still came out quite gruffly, regrettably enough.

Amelia didn’t seem to care though and stayed latched on his leg while both the nun and the sheriff chuckled discreetly at the young man trying his best. Crouching down to get on eye height with the girl, the sheriff got her attention. “Are you alright?” He asked and Amelia turned her head, half of her face still buried in Jotaro’s trousers but still paying attention. She nodded softly and the sheriff smiled.

“Why don’t you go to Miss L/N, Mr. Kujo? I’ll handle the rest.” The Sister smiled and Jotaro nodded at her, turning around.

Amelia let go of his leg and instead grabbed his hand, trying to pull him along now as she tried to hurry over to you.

Once he was close enough, you noticed and got up, turning around to face him. Amelia let go of his hand and ran to her friends while your eyes crossed with Jotaro’s.

Tears were pricking in the corners and that shocked Jotaro slightly. He had no time to react as you ran over to him and jumped into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you buried your head in his shoulder.

He immediately caught you, wrapping his arms around your body and holding it against himself to hold you up. Yet, his eyes were wide as he felt his heart thump. He had no idea what to do. He felt you pressing your face even deeper into his neck, trying to keep yourself from crying in front of the children but Jotaro knew you wanted to, more than anything.

His brain short-circuited and all he could think to do was tighten his hold on you, letting you know he was there.

Some noises to his left caught his attention and he looked over to see Jack and Tommy making kissy faces at him. In an immediate reaction he kicked a rock that lay at his foot to them, making them dodge it and giggle while running away again, joining the other kids while Jotaro silently grumbled to himself, trying to calm his beating heart.

“You alright?” He asked after a minute more of silence and he felt you nod into his shoulder.

“Yeah... you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jotaro questioned and you lifted your head, leaning back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes were a bit red and you sniffled softly.

“Well.” You started with a small sad chuckle. “You did just nearly die.”

To that, Jotaro rolled his eyes. “You clearly read the situation wrong then.” He put you back on your feet, looking to see the nun walking back over to the children while the sheriff was now walking away, sticking his hand up as he looked back in a goodbye before turning around fully and walking back to his horse.

Because he was looking to the sheriff walking away however, he was unable to brace himself when you took a few steps back and jumped right into him, tackling him to the floor.

A heavy ‘oof’ left him as he crashed to the ground with you right on top of him. You immediately sat onto his stomach and Jotaro had to try very hard to suppress a blush at the sight.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of seeing things wrong when I am just worried for your safety.” You spoke, poking his chest in warning, but the teasing look in your eyes told Jotaro exactly what you were thinking.

In return, Jotaro grabbed your wrists and rolled the two of you around so that you were now pinnend under him. “I will accuse you, because you will always remain oblivious.” He spoke, his voice sounding a little strained even though he held a small smirk.

“Oblivious to what?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes. Jotaro didn’t say anything, just looked deeply in your eyes. Neither of you really noticed he was leaning down until his face was inches from yours.

Yet before anything else could happen: “GET HIIIIMMM!!” A young voice screamed out and Jotaro jerked his head back up, looking up past his shoulder only to have three different bodies flung on top of him.

You burst out laughing at Jotaro’s surprised face that only you had a view of, even though you were still trapped under the man, his hands on either side of you as he attempted to keep himself from toppling over and crushing you.

“No, no! Oh dear.” You heard the Sister laugh, having tried to stop the children, only to fail miserably as six of the eight were now on top of Jotaro, trying to bring him down.

Part 2  |  Part 3

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Passport

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post! Enjoy! Thanks for requesting!

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Premise: You embark on a memorable journey in an attempt to return Kim Namjoon’s passport. What lengths will you go to in order to return his passport on time?

Warnings: none, this is literal crackhead fluff lol. emphasis on the crackhead.

Word Count: 3.2k 

It all started in the morning. You knew, leaving the house that morning with a skip in your step and the sun shining down on you, that something was off. Something was bound to go wrong.

It wasn’t until 11:30, sitting at brunch with some of your friends, that you caught your first whiff of trouble. 

Literally.

Rebecca, one of your oldest friends, had insisted on pretending to be rich and fancy for a day. She’d dragged you and the rest of your friends to a penthouse-like restaurant, commanding you to wear your finest ‘casual wear’, whatever that was supposed to mean. 

Long story short, you felt like some sort of avid golf fan in your skirt and blouse. Or maybe a polo fan, cheering on the magnificent horses and their riders. 

You were so consumed in your menu and trying to find the cheapest thing they had to offer without looking like a fraud, that you hadn’t noticed the room falling into a quiet buzz of excitement. Hadn’t noticed any sort of change in the air.

Except your nose had.

You unconsciously scooted in closer to the table when out of your peripheral you saw a group of people making their way over to the empty tables nearest you. They shimmied behind you and the table opposite your own, making sure to not interrupt your dining experience. Then you smelled it.

The most wonderful, fresh cologne you’d ever smelled. The smell was light enough that it had you wondering for a moment if you had just imagined the hint of pine, but another sniff confirmed what your nostrils already knew. 

Whoever had just entered the fancy, no-good for college budgets restaurant knew exactly what worked for them. And it was that cologne. Naturally, you glanced over to see just who it was that graced your nose with such a beautiful smell. 

And that, it the precise moment that you learned that Kim Namjoon, leader of BTS and dimple extraordinaire, smells like roses and pine.

Oh, and the slightest hint of jasmine.

Now, the only problem with that knowledge is the fact that you will never be able to get it out of your head. No longer will Namjoon in blue jeans and a tucked in t-shirt be your greatest weakness, as it had been before. No, that’s ancient history as far as that tantalizing fragrance is concerned. 

“Enjoying the view?” Rebecca croons from across the table, ripping your attention away from the man that just took his seat. From this angle, you have the perfect view of those dimples. 

The rest of the brunch passes by with little to no incident. The only thing that keeps you from staring at the group that’s CD has a permanent residency in your car’s stereo is the fact that you know your friends will take matters into their own hands if they catch you. Rebecca will surely embarrass you, if only because you’ve done the same thing to her countless times.

Leticia to your right elbows you lightly, grinning. “You know, RM keeps looking over at you.”

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. “It’s not nice to tease!”

“It’s true!” Bianca pipes up a bit too loudly. She covers her mouth, looking embarrassed. “I mean, it’s true!” She whisper shouts. “He can only go about thirty seconds without looking at you. Maybe he’s worried you’re going to choke or something.”

You roll your eyes. “Wow, how considerate of him.”

Munching on a lettuce wrap that costs about the same as your statistics textbook, you nearly choke on it as the group finishes their meal and begins to make their way out of the restaurant. You scoot your chair back in, cursing your reddened cheeks even as you prepare yourself for the onslaught of Namjoon’s cologne again. 

“Excuse us,” Namjoon says, the sound of his voice enough to have you staring at Rebecca as though she’s a lifeline. If you can make it through this experience without passing out, you can surely accomplish anything.

“Have a good day!” Bianca chirps, smiling widely. Jung Hoseok - yeah, the sunshine of the world - smiles back. 

“Thank you,” he replies. He glances over at you and then, to your eternal horror, he looks at Namjoon with a pointed stare. 

“Er...” Namjoon stumbles over his words, looking like he would rather eat the tablecloth than have to say two words to you. You try to hide your disappointment, closing your mouth and opting for a pleasant smile. 

It’s the wrong move, honestly. Now you’re stuck smelling in his cologne and wondering how it’s humanly possible for someone to smell so beautiful.

Namjoon fiddles with his sleeves before looking over to you, a lightning bolt jolting your senses at the sudden eye contact. 

“You...you’re very pretty.”

In your own defense, your mouth is not the only one that drops open in shock. No, Bianca, Leticia, and Rebecca mirror your state of shock. 

Bianca recovers all too quickly, playfully pushing your shoulder as she exclaims, “See! I told you he was staring!”

Fighting the urge to flee the scene, you plaster on your most nonchalant expression and turn back to Namjoon with pink cheeks. You’re relieved to see his own cheeks tinted pink. 

“I- thank you!” 

At this point all of the boys have paused in their exit, turning to look back at Namjoon with silly grins. Namjoon notices their attention, nodding his head to you and his eyes dropping to stare at the carpet. 

“You’re welcome, haveaniceday,” Namjoon spits out, thrusting a napkin into your hands before before turning on his heel and making a beeline for the exit. He shoulders past the members who give him pats on the back and laugh a little at their leader’s shyness. 

With one final look over his shoulder and an annoyed sigh at Jin who mumbles a teasing remark to him, Namjoon leaves. 

You stare and stare at the exit, your brain short-circuiting as you replay your short exchange over and over again. In your hands sits the napkin - an actual, cloth napkin that is silky soft - marred (or perfected) by Namjoon’s scrawl. 

It doesn’t say a single word. Just boasts his phone number.

“What,” you breathe out, still staring at the exit, “just happened?”

Your question seems to break the spell that had your friends mute, and suddenly all four of your burst out into giddy laughter. 

“I have no idea,” Rebecca says through her giggles, “But I wish I had that on camera!”

Leticia is the one to notice it first. As the four of you get up to leave, she sees something laying on the seat where Namjoon sat. You know it’s where he sat, because you’ve burned the image into your mind. 

You’ve also memorized his phone number. As has Bianca, who read it over your shoulder about seven times before sitting back down in her seat. 

“It looks like they left something behind,” Leticia muses, wandering over to their abandoned table. “Oh, no way!” She bursts out into laughter, pointing down at the chair.

The rest of us scramble over just in time to see Leticia hoist the item up into the air. 

It’s a passport. 

Rebecca grabs your arm, looking at me with wide eyes. “This is a sign! I swear, it’s a sign!”

You frown at her, rubbing at the sore spot from where she’s grabbed a hold of you. “What do you mean? How is this a sign? Have you lost it?”

“No, I get what she’s saying!” Bianca shouts, drawing the attention of anyone that hasn't noticed the commotion yet. “He gave you his number, and now you have the perfect reason to text him! And see him again!”

You snort in disbelief even though your heart is nearly pounding out of your chest. “...right. Because people just leave their passports lying around as calling cards these days.”

Leticia flips through the passport, eyes widening at all of the stamps. “I mean...this is Kim Namjoon we’re talking about. Doesn’t he lose his passport all the time?”

“Exactly, so I-”

“So you need to return it to him,” Rebecca interrupts, smiling devilishly. “C’mon. Text him and tell him. He’s probably freaking out right now.”

You groan, but know that you should. Pulling your phone out, you ignore your friends’ cheers. “If I embarrass myself, so help me...”

You text him. 

Or rather, you begin to type out some form of message before groaning and throwing your phone at Rebecca. Naturally, she grabs your phone and types out a message, sending it off before you can even get a look at it. 

In your despair and agony (yes, you’re aware that you often overreact), you don’t realize what’s transpired until the girls are squealing over Namjoon’s response. 

“Look, look!” Rebecca yells, thrusting your phone toward your face. “Isn't he so cute?!”

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I left that there. Are you available tonight? We could meet up somewhere? Sorry again for the inconvenience.

You groan, snatching your phone back. “Ugh, you people. Can’t even function over a simple text.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Leticia chides. “Weren’t you the one going on about how good he smells for the past thirty minutes?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You do.

Me: Sure, that’s fine! 

Me: Where do you need me to go?

You’ve all piled into the back of Leticia’s car by the time Namjoon responds. What he says makes your jaw drop for the second time that day.

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: About that...do you know where the Grammy’s are being held tonight?

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Leticia asks, looking back at in through the rear view mirror. “What did he say?”

You furiously type out a response, heart rate picking up. “Umm...I forgot that the Grammy’s were happening tonight.”

Me: I think so...why?

“It sounds like he wants to meet there...?”

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: I’ll get you a backstage pass, if you’re alright with it. Some of the staff will be there to help you out, you can leave the passport with them.

Your heart sinks a little. “But it sounds like I’ll just be meeting with his staff. Makes sense, I guess. He’ll be busy and - what?”

Bianca and Rebecca are staring me down, and you can practically see the gears shifting in their minds. 

“Why don’t we get you ready for this little rendezvous?” Bianca asks, rubbing her hands together like some evil villain. 

“But I’m not even going to see him,” You protest. “And I’m just going backstage! Nobody is going to see me.”

“Doubt it,” Rebecca states. “He just doesn’t want to freak you out. He’ll be there. I’m sure of it. And when he sees you...”

“He’ll think I look ridiculous!” You shout, staring at your reflection in the mirror with disgust. “This is horrible.”

Indeed, the gaudy red dress was a bit too much. Even the consultant of the shop appeared inclined to agree with you. 

“You’re right,” Leticia sighed. “Try on the next one.”

It hadn’t taken too much convincing to get you to go to the nearest dress store, you friends absolutely positive that you would see Namjoon tonight. When you did, he was sure to be dressed to the nine’s. You just didn’t want to look too out of place.

Casually formal.

If that’s a thing. 

So far, it’s been a nightmare trying to find a suitable dress. Most have been bordering on junior prom vibes, however you try to cling to hope as you try on the next dress. 

It’s a beautiful black dress with flowers stitched onto the lace overlay. The black slip falls to your knees, the overlay brushing against your calves.

When you exit the room, it’s easy to tell that this one is going to be the favorite. Especially once Rebecca chuckles under her breath. 

“Oh, he’s gonna freak.”

One purchase and makeover later, you smile at your reflection in the mirror. You went for a more natural look, your hair falling in gentle curls and light makeup bringing out your eyes. You’re just slipping on your shoes when you get a text from Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: Ok, I hope you’re still ok to meet up! I’m so sorry again. I’ll send over the link for your pass. They’ll just scan it at the main entrance and then again at entrance 3. Sound good?

You take a deep breath, looking to your friends for support. They nod encouragingly, Leticia clutching her keys. All four of you will drive over. Hopefully they’ll manage to keep you sane on the ride over.

Me: Sounds perfect. And really, don’t worry about it. It happens to the best of us.

You’ve barely gotten into the car when Namjoon sends you the link as well as another message. 

Kim Namjoon 😱😍: You know, if you leave right now there should be a few refreshments leftover from our staff. ;) Let me know when you get here!

“Oh, this man is going to be the death of me.”

The entire area where the Grammy’s are being held are packed with cars and fans clambering to get a look at their favorite celebrities on the red carpet. The red carpet interviews have only just begun, and you can’t help but wonder if Namjoon and the rest of the boys are out there already.

Smoothing out your dress, you can’t decide if you want them to be or not. Your heart is pounding from the overload of excitement and nerves. 

With shaking hands your extend the barcode Namjoon sent you to the security at the main entrance and again at the 3rd. Once the car has been parked, you send a message off to Namjoon letting him know that you’ve arrived. Chances are he’s on the red carpet and isn’t going to see it, but at least you did what he asked. 

“We’ll be right here when you’re finished!” Rebecca calls out as you clamber out of the car. You can’t help but laugh, feeling like a little kid being dropped off for school.

“You look freaking hot!” Bianca shouts, making you rush away and into the hallway crowded with people. 

You follow the signs plastered up on the walls, pointing you toward BTS. Hopefully there are some people that will know you’re coming-

“Joon, we’ve really got to get out there now,” a voice you recognize as J-hope drifts over to you as you make your way toward an open door. 

“I know,” Namjoon’s voice replies, and just like that your stomach is filled with butterflies tying impressive knots in your stomach. “But she just texted saying she’s here. I feel like it’s rude to just leave her to see the staff and not thank her in person.”

Jin’s voice is loud and clear. “Don’t lie to us. We all know that you just want to see her again. I’m starting to think you left your passport on purpose.”

You hold your breath, willing your cheeks to go back to a normal color. It does’t work. 

“Ok boys, 5 more minutes. Tops. You’ve really got to get going, people are waiting.” Someone says over their shoulder as they step out of the room. They’re eyes almost immediately land on you, going a little wide. “Oh, are you here with the passport?”

Everyone seems to quiet down inside of the room, but a few harsh whispers and some footsteps later Namjoon is popping his head out of the door. As soon as he sees you his eyes light up even as he turns a little red. 

“You made it!” He grins. “And wow. You look...”

You look down at your dress, fidgeting under the sudden attention. “A little out of place, I know. I didn’t know if it was ok to show up just in casual wear, so this is kinda what happened.”

Namjoon steps out into the hallway, and you swear you can hear Jungkook whining about how he wanted to see what’s happening. He’s quickly shushed by the others. 

You’re engulfed by that same smell as this morning, and it takes everything in your willpower not to close your eyes and breathe it in. Namjoon must have barely reapplied his cologne. 

“I was going to say you look stunning.” Now arriving just a step away from you, Namjoon smiles softly down at you. “Absolutely stunning.”

Your hands shake as you are at a loss for words, rummaging around your purse until you produce Namjoon’s passport. Staring at his tie and nowhere else, you extend it to him.

“H-here you go.”

As if trying to kill you right then and there, Namjoon’s fingers linger over your own as he takes the passport, quietly thanking you. “Um, this may sound a little strange but...”

You look up at him, a bit distracted by the way his hair is styled away from his face. Only a couple of thick strands kiss his forehead, making him look like he just stepped out of a novel. 

Namjoon’s eyes dance over your face, clearly displaying his nerves. At least you’re not the only one. 

“What is it?” You ask.

“Well, if you’re not busy tonight...would you maybe want to stay?” You barely stop yourself from passing out, digging your nails into your palm to ground yourself. Namjoon chews on the inside of his cheek. “Our staff have reserved seats by us, and we’re planning on ordering some food after-”

“Yes.” You blurt out the word before Namjoon can finish speaking, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he looks positively relieved at your interruption. 

“Really?” He swallows, playing with his cufflinks even as he stares into your eyes. “I don’t want to pressure you or anything...”

You shake your head, but stop. “I would love to, but...I actually have my friends that dropped me off waiting for me in the parking lot. I can’t make them wait for me like that-”

Now Namjoon cuts you off. “They can come too! And invite them to eat with us after! Really, the more the merrier!”

You blink up at this man, completely floored. “But, they don’t have dresses.”

Checking a watch that you’re sure costs more than your entire year’s rent, Namjoon thinks for a moment before looking back at you. You can’t help but grin at the way his eyes sweep over your figure and face again. 

Bianca was right. You do look freaking hot.

“Do you think they could go change and be back within two hours?”

You mull it over, pulling your phone out and shooting off a text to Rebecca. “I bet they could, with the right motivation. But are you sure that’s alright?”

Namjoon smiles broadly at you. “Oh yeah. It’s more than alright.” He hesitates, rocking back on his heels. “So...you’ll stay?”

You return his smile. “I’ll stay.”

“Great!” Jin’s voice rings out into the hallway, making you jump. “Now will you bring her in here so we can warn her about how weird you are, Namjoon? We’ve only got so much time.”

Laughing at the expression of long-suffering on Namjoon’s face, you take the arm he extends to you. Before you walk through the door to meet the rest of the members, you lean up on your tippy-toes to whisper something to Namjoon. He cranes his neck, listening to your every word. 

"Thanks for losing your passport.”

Namjoon smiles sheepishly, and every thought eddies out of your brain as his adorable dimples make an appearance. “My pleasure.”

masterlist

[nugnthopkns]

i’ll tell you i was wrong if you dance with me

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, slightly unhealthy relationship moment (lack of communication), mention of infidelity, cursing, alcohol consumption, a fair bit of angst

recommended listening: fred astaire | adam brock

a/n: communicate with your partners!!! also yeah this is the song from lady bird. it’s a banger

This seriously isn’t happening. 

You never fight with Travis. Communication comes easy between the two of you, but you also make it a priority to talk about your feelings. It keeps things from boiling over; both of you are known to unleash wicked tempers on occasion and have found being direct stops issues from occuring. Arguments still occasionally happen, but they’re typically over trivial things like what movie to watch or where you’re spending the holidays. Travis apparently forgot about the fact you talk to each other about things. 

He’d been upset when he came home from practice, but you were pretty sure he was fine after he woke up from his pre-game nap. Knowing he’s a superstitious person and has a lot of pressure on him to put up points, you had made the choice not to ask about what was bothering him. Throwing off his routine could have detrimental consequences. Tonight's game is tighter than it should have been, but the Flyers come out on top. Travis spends a bit more time in the penalty box than you would have liked, but everyone was getting chippy by the start of the third period. Claude tries to talk to him on the bench but he gets shut down. Whatever Travis was upset about before is still clearly bothering him, and it’s affecting his game. 

You’re following Travis home from the game, and can tell he’s uptight from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. As you wind through downtown Philadelphia you try and prepare yourself for any bomb that could drop. Chances are that when you reach your apartment things will explode. Maybe it’s nothing; Travis is fine and just wants to be a responsible driver for once. You pull into the free spot beside his car and see him walking towards the elevator, suit jacket balled up and tucked under his arm. This won’t be good. Trying to buy yourself some time, you take the stairs. Seven flights later you arrive outside your door; he left it unlocked, which gives you a sliver of hope things will be fine. 

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” you call into the darkness of the apartment. Your sneakers are left at the door and to retreat towards the bedroom, looking for a sign of life. You find one in the bathroom: the light is on. A gentle push on the door reveals your boyfriend is in the shower and ignoring you. 

“Trav?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, words muffled by him tossing his head back to rinse the shampoo of his hair. Apparently the shower isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped. 

You don’t bother to tread lightly, upset that he’s acting like a child. “You’re being an asshole. I get that you had a bad day, but you can’t take it out on me. I just want to help.”

Travis turns the water off suddenly. “Can’t help if you’re the problem,” he scoffs. 

His statement doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing out of the ordinary the past couple of days; nothing that would warrant the behaviour you’re receiving. “What do you mean?”

Shouldering passed you to exit the room, Travis doesn’t bother to respond. You’re beyond frustrated: partners in healthy relationships communicate, not show emotions like grade schoolers. “You’re not giving me the fucking silent treatment Travis. You gotta talk to me.” The bedroom is dark when you enter and you flick the overhead light on to see better.

“You really don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t know,” you seethe. “If I did know we wouldn’t be in this predicament because we’d be solving the issue.”

The glare you receive is sharp enough to cut stone. He pulls on a t-shirt, anger clear in the aggression he does it with. “Why did I have to find out from Carter that you’ve been getting coffee with your TA?”

You’re shocked. In no way is it what he thinks it is. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh, upset that Travis would take someone else’s words at face value and not talk to you about it. 

“I’m dead fucking serious Y/N. You preach communication, but it looks as though you’re the one who hasn’t been doing enough talking.”

The room around you starts to spin. You can’t comprehend what he’s insinuating. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” you ask. There has been a gross miscommunication error somewhere; never in a million years would you think of having an affair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

Travis tugs at the roots of his hair in frustration. He doesn’t answer immediately, pacing the length of the bed a few times. “I just–” he struggles to articulate his words. “I just said that you’re being a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You’re standing here yelling at me because I didn’t voice my concerns, but you haven’t been talking to me about what’s going on in your life.” Travis’ tone is sharp, and it stings. 

It’s your turn to show how upset you are. Your hands curl into fists at your side, and you squeeze your nails into your palms before releasing them. “I do tell you what goes on in my life Travis,” your breathing ragged as you try to not lose your cool. “I ran into my TA at the coffee shop yesterday, and he paid for my drink because my card wouldn’t work. Didn’t think it was breaking news, sorry I don’t send you every single fucking life update that happens. What’s gotten into you?”

“You could have been cheating!” 

“But I wasn’t!” you scream, no longing caring about keeping up appearances. You can’t believe Travis would think that. It hurts. “And I never would! You know this”

He turns his back to you, like it pains him to look at you, but you don’t understand why. You're not the one suggesting infidelity. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he seethes. 

“That’s all there is to say! There’s nothing to explain, no secret to uncover. I’m not in the wrong here.”

“And you think I am?”

You look at Travis like he has three heads. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s so fucking upset over a situation that could have happened to literally anyone.” Your tone suggests that you’re exhausted with the conversation, and Travis gets the hint. 

He slinks towards the door, still visibly angry. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” he grits out before tightly gripping the doorknob and shutting the door with more force than needed. 

The bed doesn’t look appealing, full of much happier memories, but fighting with Travis has knocked any and all energy out of you. You gingerly pull back the covers and slip underneath. Tears trickle down your cheek as you toss and turn, trying to fall into some sort of slumber. However, your mind has other ideas, replaying the blowout. You can’t begin to understand why Travis is so bothered by the instance, and more importantly why it caused him to disregard a fundamental part of your relationship. There’s little movement from beyond the door, but you can hear the faint noise of a Johnny Cash record playing from the speakers in the living room. After hours of staring at the ceiling your eyes close and a fitful sleep follows. 

You might have gotten nine hours of sleep, but you wake up feeling exhausted. Fighting with anyone drains you, but fighting with Travis is especially terrible because it rarely happens. There doesn’t seem to be any movement from the other side of the door; maybe he’s still asleep. You refrain from heading into the kitchen, unsure of what will happen if you see him. After nearly twenty minutes you can’t wait any longer to start your day and pad into the main living space. It’s empty: no sign that Travis has been there for many hours. Guess you don’t have to immediately deal with the fallout of last night. 

A post-it note is tacked onto the fridge handle and your heart skips a beat. In Travis’ chicken scratch it reads I’ll see you at the gala tonight. We’ve got media all day and I won’t be back in time for us to go together. There’s no mention of the fight, and you can’t judge from a two sentence note whether or not he’s still pissed off. 

“Fuck,” you groan. “The gala.” Tonight’s the annual Flyers Give Back gala, and you’re expected to be in attendance. It’s not even a charity event; the organization is offering a chance for business men to chat up the players in hopes they continue to donate. You find things like these unbearable and tedious, but Travis does his best to make them enjoyable. Not knowing what page you’re on with him is going to be terrible. There’s a pretty good chance he’ll ignore you if he’s still upset. 

As if someone is reading your mind, the better halves group chat starts to explode. Everyone is chattering excitedly about tonight, and under normal circumstances you’d be excited to see them in such a relaxed setting. It’s been a while you’ve all hung out, but you can’t find yourself to contribute to the conversation. You mute the notifications and do your best to move on with your day. The rest of the morning is spent working on your thesis; mind numbing work that almost makes you forget about everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Once you’ve hit an acceptable word count for the day you shutdown your computer and make lunch. 

The grilled cheese sandwich you eat while watching a John Mulaney comedy special fulfills your appetite but doesn’t curb your dread. You decide to call your sister, hoping she can be a welcome distraction. Dialling her number you sink further into the couch cushions, wrapping yourself tightly with a blanket so that only your head is poking out. “What’s up?” she asks, and you hear her shuffle in the background, presumably to move somewhere more private. It isn’t normal for you to call her unannounced. 

You hold it together for approximately two seconds. The tears start and they don’t stop. Every emotion you’ve felt since getting home last night comes to the surface, and before you know it you’re sobbing into the receiver. 

“Woah, slow down,” she says. “Y/N, take some deep breaths.” When your breathing returns to a somewhat regular level she continues speaking. “What happened?”

It takes you nearly twenty minutes to tell the whole story because you’re so distraught. No detail is spared, and you go back much farther than is probably needed. You recount what happened after yesterday’s practice, pretty much the entire game, and the fight that followed. “I just don’t know what brought this on,” you sniffle. “We don’t fight, we talk about things. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at what he insinuated or at the fact he broke a cardinal rule.”

Your sister sighs, and you hear her breath fan in slight annoyance. You’re worked up about something kinda stupid, you know, but you can’t let it slide. “It’s probably a bit of both. So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I know that we need to talk about what happened, but a public event is not the best place to do that. I also can’t not show up or ask Trav to ditch in order to figure this out. We have to be there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.”

You really don’t. “What happens if he ignores me the entire night?”

She laughs and tells you to not to anything stupid, and to take your mind off of things tells you a story about your nephew eating dirt. It does the trick; you’re momentarily distracted and forget about Travis. You talk for a while longer before she has to go. “Miles is crying, will you be okay if I let you go?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. A glance at the clock tells you it’s time to start getting ready. “I’ve gotta shower and start the process. Beauty is time consuming you know.”

Against your better judgement you open your text messages to see if there’s anything from Travis. His text thread is the same as it was yesterday and you’re disappointed. You had hoped that maybe he’d get bored between interviews and check in. With no new notifications you exit out of the application and pull up a playlist you hope will brighten your mood. The steam from the shower relaxes your tense muscles and warms you up. It’s comforting in the way a cocoon is; you practically have to drag yourself out of the bathtub. 

Your bedroom is cold and doesn’t offer the same respite as the bathroom. The music continues to float in from the hallway, and you allow yourself to get lost in it. It’s been a while since you danced around your room; it worked to cure sadness when you were a teenager. Hopefully the magic hasn’t worn off. You flail your arms, not caring how silly you look since no one is here to see you anyways, and scream along at the top of your lungs. After a few songs you feel better and return to the task at hand. The dress code is labelled as ‘black tie’ on the invitation, but that isn’t what you’re worried about. You own a million dresses for situations like this after being with Travis for so long. You don’t know what he packed to wear, and there’s a decent chance you’ll be pushed together for photos. Clashing colours will look terrible.

A quick glance through his side of the closest leaves you no clues, so you decide to be as literal as possible. Black is a flattering colour and works well with every colour combination. There’s a jumpsuit hanging in the back that catches your eye and you think it’s the perfect choice. After pulling it on you move back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. Everything is natural and relaxed; once again for the sake of potential photos. The clock strikes on the hour and you realize it’s time to leave. A pair of heels are slipped on and you order an Uber before locking the apartment and heading to the lobby. You had thought about driving yourself, but on the occasion that things don’t end well with Travis you’ll probably have more than a couple of drinks. 

The entire way to the venue your leg bounces up and down. It’s been years since you’ve been this nervous about being around the team. You’ve been with Travis for a few seasons now, and the organization has become a second family to you. No one is going to know about the fight and you worry they’re going to talk about your solo arrival. The outside of the convention centre is sharply decorated, and your driver lets out a low whistle at the extravagance of it all. “Thank you so much,” you gush, and exit the car. Thankfully no photographers are set up outside, and you dart inside without being seen. 

Once in the main event space, you scan for the bar. There’s no sign of Travis, which should make you more relaxed but doesn’t. What if there was an accident on the way to the venue? You have no idea where he was all or who he came with. Overthinking distracts you from your original goal, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. 

“You look like you might need one of these,” Ryanne chuckles, handing you a champagne flute. You gladly accept and down it in two gulps. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes scanning to see if your boyfriend has made an appearance. 

She sees right through your facade of calm and wraps you in a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

For a second time today you explain what happened last night. There’s no judgement from Ryanne as there might have been from your sister because she understands. Dating a professional athlete isn’t easy; things like this happen much more frequently than you’d expect. Perhaps it’s all the time spent apart that makes the occasional lapse in communication so apparent. She listens quietly, full attention on you. To your credit you don’t cry this time, slightly more numb to the situation to due more time passing. It still hurts a tremendous amount. 

“He’ll come around,” Ryanne insists. “TK is a little moronic sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize his relationship with you. You’re quite literally the most important thing in his life.”

 “I know. I’m just upset because the whole thing could have been avoided.”

She offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know.” Ryanne links her arm through yours. “Let’s go find something to snack on.”

You spend most of the night with Ryanne, and occasionally Claude when he can get away from the hot-shot businessmen. Travis eventually came in, flanked by Nolan, but was immediately pulled into the politics of the night. The two of you occasionally sneak glances at each other and you tell he’s uncomfortable. You can only hope it isn’t because of your presence. It’s nearing eleven; the party has become a much more relaxed affair, and the DJ is playing sappy love songs in an attempt to get the media team some good photo ops. An intern asks the Giroux’s if they’ll dance for an instagram story and they both look hesitant. “Go on guys, I’ll be fine,” you reassure. It’s the subtle push they need to enjoy a quiet moment together. 

As if he can sense you’re lonely and feel out of place, Travis approaches you. It’s tentative, like he’s petrified you’ll turn him away, but he comes regardless. Drinks are in each of his hands and he extends one to you. When you don’t take it he sets it on the table behind you. “Hi,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with something in his pocket. 

“Hi Travis.” You’re determined not to let his presence crack your resolve; last night illuminated a big issue and it needed to be dealt with. It’s proving to be difficult because he bumps a shoulder against yours and all you can think of is kissing him senseless. 

The song changes to a Bruce Springsteen ballad, and you recognize it instantly. It played at the coffee shop on your first date with Travis all those years ago. One look at him tells you this isn’t an accident, that he had requested it specifically for the two of you. “Dance with me?”

You sigh deeply, looking him in the eyes. “Trav, this isn’t going to magically fix things.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pleads. “I fucked up so bad last night because I was being an idiot. I wrote down everything I would do differently if I had a time machine, look.” A hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper filled with his nearly illegible print. “Just one dance, and then we can go home and talk about it like I should have suggested in the first place. Let me know we’re still okay.”

If you hadn’t been in public you’re sure Travis would have been in tears. It’s not necessarily a good look to cry in front of hundreds of sponsors. He has a reputation as the goofy boy who takes no shit to uphold. “You have a lot of talking ahead of you,” you say, and let him drag you onto the dance floor. Swaying in his arms you realize things are going to be just fine. Travis loves you and you love him; there’s nothing the two of you can’t work through. 

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[wandering-child-rp]

For the mini fic: what about number 7 things you said while driving for E/C 💖💖

“Thanks for the lift. You didn’t have to. I could have gotten the bus.” Christine forced a smile onto her nervous face as Erik gripped the steering wheel a little harder. It was painful for him but he didn’t like the idea of Christine alone on public transport late at night.

The lights of the highway would bathe the saloon car into bright light every so often and gave them both some shadows to hide in. Christine put the lead in her stomach down to nerves.

“I don’t mind driving you. I know you’d do the same for me if I needed a favour.”

“Except I don’t have a car and I cannot drive.” Christine laughed, it was a one-sided friendship. It was strange really. He didn’t seem to have many friends and it was always Christine chasing him. Unless it was after a lesson because then Erik always had a fantastic dinner for her, a great bottle of wine and he was good company. There had been a while when Christine had developed a crush on him but it was never reciprocated. She’d given him a thousand opportunities and lingering a little longer than needed at the door waiting for a kiss that never came.

Her hands stretched over her thighs with a huff of air.

“Nervous?” Erik asked but desperately he didn’t want to hear Christine pour out her feelings about her new boyfriend. He hated the constant buzzing of her phone when they sat together or the way she’d smile and laugh at whatever was on that stupid screen.

“Yeah... a little. I wish he could have come back instead of me flying out to him.” Erik’s large hand landed onto Christine’s with a comforting squeeze.

“I know. It’s sad your missing the season opener.” In his heart of hearts, he wanted Christine to be sat next to him in the box. He wanted to twist the playbill in his hands over and over trying to pluck up the courage to slide his hand into hers. Exactly like it was now. His hazel eyes went wide and he whipped away the warmth all too suddenly leaving Christine confused again and feeling like an imposition.

It would have been nice to go with Erik. He was a gentleman truly. Yes, he was a little older than her but he was sweet and respectful. Meg kept saying it was just a crush on an older man who had that mysterious thing but Christine wasn’t so sure. She laughed at his clever jokes and dumb ones and could listen for hours to him play or dissect a film scene by scene. He lent her books that he thought she needed to read and empowered her beyond belief. Only when she needed it though did he interfere.

</i>

“Your favourite book is ‘Pride and prejudice? Did Mr Darcy like Elizabeth more because she was outspoken and her own woman?” Christine only nodded. “Then stop pandering to these idiots. Yes, take their direction but not when it cuts you down. If it doesn’t stop I’ll bloody tell them.”

“They’re bossy; not romantic though.” She said trying to lighten the atmosphere and stop feeling like such a silly little girl. Erik only raised his eyebrows and bit his tongue trying to keep his attention solely on the tv in front of them. “No one has ever declared their undying love for me.”

“Maybe if you followed the advice.” </i>

Erik remembered that night. The air hung thick as Christine ran her finger around the rim of her glass and the silence rang. He knew he loved her then. It was sudden and all at once; like drowning. He fought it but couldn’t swim to the surface again. It was fine when it was just lessons and direction but then they met up. She didn’t look at the mask but at Erik’s eye. He held his temper and the time it was ragged, she simply laid her hand on his shoulder and then it took all his power not to declare his feelings. Erik wasn’t stupid; she was young, beautiful and smart. Out of his league. Then, she suddenly had a boyfriend on the scene after a connection with an old friend. It was dreadful to watch them. Erik was waiting at the stage door with flowers but they ended up in the trash can when he realised he’d been beaten to the punch.

The pair came to the airport all too quickly. Christine methodically checked off her list for the hundredth time.

“Passport? Yes. Money? Yes. Ticket? Yes. Phone? Yes. Makeup bag? Yep. So, I’m all set.” Christine looked beautiful in her thick sweater, the mass of curls blow dried out by the hairstylist this morning and her body bouncing nervous energy as she smiled widely at Erik with the harsh light reflecting off his mask. “Vienna, here I come! City of opera dreams and I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

Erik knew she wouldn’t come back. She had nothing in Paris anymore and her father was back in Sweden. He knew the allure of a new city and a new start but he’d miss her too much to admit. She was tense and clearly something was distracting her, as always, she just blurted it out after only a stern look from her mentor.

“He’s nice, right? He’s not texted much but now a driver is going to pick me up? That’s okay, isn’t it?” Erik wouldn’t dream of it. He would even let her take public transport alone and insisted she stayed in his guest room when he caved and shared a bottle of wine with her.

“Yes.” He replied monosyllabically before adding some care when he saw Christine's face drop a little. “Let me know when you get to his house at least. Goodbye, angel.”

‘Angel’ Christine melted just like when he’d coined the term back for her. She had not known his name when the first note had come or the loud shout across the stage from a fast-moving figure. Erik had told her to start an octave higher and, it had worked perfectly, she had hit the last note despite not knowing. Jokingly, she’d referred to him since as her ‘Angel of music’. It had become truthful as her broken heart had begun to mend itself.

“I can still call you, can’t I?” Erik noted she was picking at the handle of her bag and delaying for time. Nodding, Erik was about to splurge out everything but as he opened his mouth, some jackass behind him started to honk for the drop off space.

“Of course. Good luck with the audition. I’ll come to see you perform, I’m sure.”

He watched her walk away with the backpack that was his before, handbag and battered suitcase decorated with a floral print. It wasn’t medically possible but he was quite sure he could physically feel his heartbreaking. The tears clouded his vision so Erik gave up trying and pulled in for a drive-through coffee he’d normally baulk at. Red and white lights flashed overhead as planes carrying people off to their dreams, vacations and loved ones. The pain came in another crashing wave as he saw the coffee Christine got flash on the menu board; double-shot caramel latte. How was it possible for a coffee to cause a thousand stabs of ice to a heart. Erik reconciled himself to just wait out the hour and a half to watch her plane take off into the night sky. Then he’d go home and drink his body weight in liquor.

The whole plane groaned as the captain announced the delay. They’d sat on the tarmac for half an hour but it felt so much longer for someone as nervous as she was. Christine swore under her breath as she wrestled the backpack from the compartment. Why wasn’t Erik here? He never had to stand on his tiptoes to reach anything.

1 Voice Note from ‘Angel of Music 🎶 (ERIK DESTLER). 20 minutes ago. Christine held the phone to her ear as she jostled her way through disgruntled people and his velvet tones spilled into her ears.

‘So, I’m just at Starbucks and I can’t not say this anymore. I’m so sorry to do this, Christine, and like this. Look, just don’t listen past this but let me do it. We can pretend it never happened. I really want you to be happy and I don’t care if that’s not with me but... fuck... I don’t even know why I’m doing this but... here goes. I love you. A lot. Always have and always will. You can’t blame me because look at you and look at me. I know you won’t feel the same but I care for you so much, Christine. My wretched heart will always belong to you. The one who saw through the bullshit. Don’t think nothing or no one is missing you in Paris because I will be. Don’t dwell on it though. Go be happy... If you want to come home or something goes wrong, I’ll buy your ticket home and be waiting to collect you. Anytime, any day, just call me. You can always call me. No questions asked.’ There was a noise of a steering wheel being slapped and Erik squeezing his nose and clearing his throat before a new note started. ‘Anyway, just call me if you need and, best of luck. I know you’ll be perfect and don’t take any shit from anyone. I’ll get over all of this and I’m sorry. Unless you didn’t listen to that message in which case, erm, send me a postcard kid.’

Christine felt like the world had fallen out from under her and anything she thought was true wasn’t anymore. Throwing her handbag onto the seat, she paced around and listened to the message again. Surely she’d misheard him.

Erik perched himself on the wing of his car. His third cup of coffee in one hand a cigarette in the other as he blew smoke into the sky and watched a plane take off. Her flight was seven minutes late but he saw the green tail knew it was her flight as the flight app hadn’t updated with the last-minute delay.

“Fucking hell, Erik...” he mumbled to himself and threw the butt of the cigarette away after only taking three drags. “Stupid bastard...”

Never before had he felt so deflated but with freedom now. It was out into the world regardless of his regrets or lack of. The words where just like the smoke; impossible to catch or recall in the night sky. It was what it was, Erik thought as he sat back in the driver's seat and drummed the leather wheel defeated. He sat there spinning his phone on his thigh whilst the radio played the weather forecast monotonously. He had muted Christine and unmuted her twice just in case she needed him suddenly yet he hadn’t looked to see if she heard the message before boarding. The timing was meant to be that she’d already have shut off her phone before getting on the plane. It was nearly an hour ago since he’d practically bled the words out of his mouth and tonight, he’d go home and get very drunk before sleeping in tomorrow and he’d remain drunk until the opening night of the opera in four days. Then, he’d force himself back together and to face the world.

“Erik?” That voice. His head whipped around quickly and pulled a muscle. “My- my flight got delayed.”

His face visibly dropped but Christine held up her phone with the screen illuminating the picture of the artwork in Erik’s corridor that she adored. It was a perfect metaphor. Even when it wasn’t about him, Erik was never far from her thoughts.

“I got your message.” The young woman was nervous and simply flying on instinct as the moments turned into seconds and she was closing the gap between them and then her body hit his and their lips met in a breathless kiss full of fire and longing. Christine’s smile was large and her eyes crinkled when Erik looked shocked and confused. Slowly, his long arms wrapped around her waist and one knee shook weakly. She was here, in his arms and smiling at the thought of him. “I wish you’d told me before.”

“I didn’t want to cloud our friendship.”

“Friendship? Erik, it was never just a friendship with us. It doesn’t take me five minutes to unlock my door and say goodbye in the car and I wanted you. I thought you could see that-“

In response, his lips met hers again as one palm cradled her cheek. The mask was unforgiving but Christine knew what was underneath already from coming over early months ago. He’d freaked out and was embarrassed but she handled it without a moment of thought.

“Are you staying?” Erik whispered with a voice dripping with dark honey and his nose rubbed against hers as Christine cuddled him close in the chilly night with her arms around his neck.

Several hours later and Erik was kissing Christine’s nude shoulder as he cuddled behind her still unable to sleep despite their activities. Christine hummed in happily nuzzled softly in a bed that smelt of his cologne. She couldn’t stop thanking delayed flights and voice notes of deep thoughts in cars. She could have missed out on her love so easily but as Erik’s chest pressed against her back in his bed, Christine knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.

@sloanedestler

[rouiyan]

𝘙𝘖𝘖𝘍𝘛𝘖𝘗 𝘙𝘖𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘵𝘺 ]

synopsis — taeyong is ready to take on the whole world and anything else that dare comes between him and a successful first date.

✧ idol!lee taeyong x (gender neutral reader) ✧ established relationship au, first date au

✧ genre : fluff ✧ word count 1.5k ✧ disclaimers light swearing, food

✧ author's note — kinda enduring a little phase of writer's block after exerting all my feelies on 'it's (un)conditional' but i got sum black tea, a ten minute break between classes, and i'm gonna fucking write this. 

the air is cold to the touch, breezy and crisp, with the loom of autumn sitting atop the clouds and you think it'll rain any second. suddenly, this very well-anticipated date comes with a feeling of dread. arriving at the apartment complex, you give yourself a once-over in the lobby mirror before heading up. taeyong had asked over facetime, a little under a fortnight ago, if he could take you on a date, something appropriately social distance themed. his door, now swinging open in front of you, caught the edge of his foot and from there, you brought your eyes up his figure to meet his own. 

the man is wearing casual jeans, a grey knit sweater and black shoes that resemble clogs, you're not very sure, but it isn't his outfit that throws you off, it's the gargantuan, and i mean, colossal, backpack that’s weighing down his posture. and not just any normal, day-to-day backpack, it's the fucking 'i'm going camping for seven days in the mountains' type of backpack, with the straps that clasp in the front, once across the chest and once across the waist. "taeyong, babe, you-"

he cuts you off, a sweet lopsided smile adorning his face, "ready to go?" 

taeyong doesn't answer but instead, takes lead, brushing lightly past you, his hand sneaking for yours and intertwining fingers in the process, eyes focused entirely up ahead. a few steps behind him, you peer over his shoulders (and enormous bag) to see that he's heading for the stairwell. confusion clouds over your face as you ponder whether to question him or not. taeyong clips the door open with the heel of his foot as he draws you by the hand in front of him, hands brief on your hips to guide you up the stairs from behind.

taking a fleeting glance at the man who's quick on your heels, you bear in mind the way the skylight that filters light softly down the column of stairs illuminates his face in a way you can only describe as superlunary, the gossamer-thin strands of hair falling into his eyes, bending light in ways that deem inconceivable. the fine features of his countenance that you are oh-so-blessed to be in the presence of on a daily. even the scar beside his eye offering another depth of otherworldly complexity to his expression. his smile broadens, crinkling up the corners of his eyes, scar included. 

taking a fleeting glance at the man who's quick on your heels, you bear in mind the way the skylight that filters light softly down the column of stairs illuminates his face in a way you can only describe as superlunary, the gossamer-thin strands of hair falling into his eyes, bending light in ways that deem inconceivable. the fine features of his countenance that you are oh-so-blessed to be in the presence of on a daily. even the scar beside his eye offering another depth of otherworldly complexity to his expression. his smile broadens, crinkling up the corners of his eyes, scar included. 

"please don't tell me we're going up to the tenth floor," you give into your questioning observations. 

"don't worry, even i have a hard time setting foot in there," he discloses, "a little further than that though, hope it isn't too tiring." 

"taeyong, sweetie, are you sure this isn't too tiring for you? with that hunk on your back and all?"

if your eyes weren't set ahead, you'd be met with another quirk of his lips, hands finding yours again and giving it a small, inspiriting squeeze. "not even a bit."

the door at the top of the stairway reveals a wide space, open to the sky and the teeming city below. but it's all the same as the sky you were met with upon arriving, the sunlight having trouble peering through the thick haze of grey clouds, the whole picture setting a muted film of scintillating light over the ground and all above. a frown crossed pout is cast in your visage as taeyong immediately sets to work in unpacking the load.

you stand a little off to the side until he spreads a thick blue blanket on the floor adjacent to the wall that houses the flight of stairs you’d just came from. sitting atop, you watch as he constructs a projector and screen setup, random objects emerging from the bag with each coming minute. soon you're left with a spread of chips and homemade salsa, your boyfriend's laptop, a blow-up couch, a hoard of pillows and blankets, and finally, the beginnings of pitter-patter drops from the sky. cursing, you look over at taeyong who, instead of looking anywhere near fazed, has a set look of determination lining his features, a rigid and clenched jawline, and brows drawn in to a point. he gives you a glance, one that immediately softens the creased lines on his face, and sets back to work in unearthing even more items from the never-ending pits of that bag. 

this time, it's a whole ass tent. a small one, but a tent nonetheless. he assembles it with ease, as if he'd done (or practiced) it a handful of times, and shoos you out of the way so he can move the whole configuration into the makeshift cover. you feel a tad bit useless, just standing under the awning of the landing, but it isn't as if you hadn't tried to help. it's just that every time you even dare to trespass into his little workspace, taeyong's frown deepens and he puts all work aside to guide you back under the awning, telling you to stay put and content.

the tent ends up providing even more comfort than the previous array, the sheeted material deflecting the light rain and privately enclosing the space within. your very well-thought-out movie date with taeyong begins but he's wallowing in apologies that "you're not able to see the view, though," and, "this basically negates the reason i brought you up here." you're not sure if you'd rather pay attention to your boyfriend's complaints at the situation and his maxed-out, but apparently still-lacking, efforts to make the best out of it, or the movie itself. you opt for the former, gently tucking his chin in between your index and middle fingers and using a soft kiss to lift the frown from his lips. 

"pay attention to the movie, babe, now you're negating the whole purpose of the date!" he's exasperated, you can tell, but also you know that paying attention to him as opposed to the movie, and praising him for his good work as opposed to the movie, and making sure he knows you appreciate the heartfelt sentiments as opposed to the movie, would cure his little tantrum a lot more effectively than anything else. so you shift until you're facing him, holding his face in your hands and making sure your sight is locked tight with his own. he breaks eye contact a total of four times, to try and deliver the hint that the movie is supposedly of more importance, but you stay persistent. 

"how'd your day go?"

"but the movie's still playin-" he's confounded.

"did you guys learn the new choreo?"

"hey, the movie- !" he feels as if you're antagonizing him. 

"oh, for fuck's sake taeyong, i care more about you than the movie!" he goes quiet at this.

it's right then and there that, after knowing you for a total of four years but only being able to call himself your boyfriend for the past month, he decides that he loves you. the long pause that ensues is drawn to a close when taeyong wraps you warmly in his embrace, the crown of his head molding in perfect unison with the crook of your neck, the dip of your clavicle. he mumbles, "i knew that," before withdrawing and taking your hand in his, yet again. he seems to enjoy the feeling of your knuckles rippling underneath the pads of his fingertips because he runs over them repeatedly, reassuringly, gladdeningly, lovingly.

"and i will still care about you even if we have a very muddled first date. even if you had let it rain on us, i would still care, really." 

he's mumbling, still, but you catch the small, "i love you," that falls from his lips like honey to your ears. you say it back like it's the easiest thing in the world, as if those three words have been at the tip of your tongue the entire time. you say it because it's what you feel most in a day's worth of emotions and that your love for taeyong is anything but shallow. it's a sea, a vast sea that runs on and on, miles wide and miles deep. and then there's taeyong. taeyong, who finds joy in the fact that he can swell your cheeks in the form of happy smiles and sincere affection. he finds pride in the fact that he can set your heart alight with simple but earnest actions. and he finds love in the fact that you love him back.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — this is a prewritten and scheduled post. i will be taking a brief rest for the duration of today (102720) and will continue writing/posting tomorrow (102820). thank you for reading.

[annabethy]

percabeth zoom calls!

“Babe! Do you know where my charger is?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes, adjusting her computer screen so that it was facing her. Percy bangs around in the kitchen some more, for what she suspects is his charger, before he starts cursing, and she suspects he stubbed his toe on the corner of the counter like he’s done five times in the last week.

“Are you okay?” she asks after another minute of loud cursing, poking her head out from his bedroom.

“I’m just getting it all out before the students see.”

Annabeth leans against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “I didn’t know they made you that mad.” Percy snorts, coming up in front of her to wrap him in her arms. He kisses her forehead before responding. “They make me livid.”

“Couldn’t possibly be as terrible as my kids,” she argues, smiling when his lips catch hers. “My calc kids can’t even do simple algebra.”

“I can’t do simple algebra,” he says, biting her lower lip. “That’s why I teach marine.”

“Marine is the most boring thing you could’ve possibly chosen to teach, but okay.”

“Says the walking calculator.”

Annabeth pinches his butt and he yelps.

“That was a compliment!”

“Make it sound like it next time,” she says, retreating back to his room. “I know that you finished teaching for the day, but I haven’t, so stay quiet.”

“That’s no fun.”

“You want to know what’s no fun? Having your students find out that you’re hooking up with their math teacher.”

Percy grins. “Is that what this is? And here I thought we were actually dating.”

“We won’t be if they find out because I will kill you,” Annabeth threatens without malice. She takes a step back to retreat into his room and he takes a step to follow her, which sends alarm shooting through her mind. “What are you doing?”

Percy has an amused smile plastered to his face, and she knows she’s about to be fighting whatever he decides to say next.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Uh, no you’re not.”

“It’s my bedroom.”

“You shouldn’t have invited me then,” Annabeth says, eyeing him as he keeps following her. “What are you, my shadow?”

“I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.”

It’s so disgustingly cheesy but it’s also so disgustingly him that she can’t help but give in as he settles down onto the bed. Percy flips onto his stomach, reaching for the pillow she’d been using the previous night as Annabeth sits at his desk. As he turns his head towards her, his eyes trace over her, and she has to pretend not to notice, as though the red flush of her face didn’t give her away.

Percy’s hand reaches out to squeeze her knee to get her attention, and she feels butterflies in her stomach. They had been together for more than a few months now, and they’d been best friends for quite a while longer, but the way he looks at her never ceased to make her feel this way.

“I’m turning the class on,” she mutters, the corners of her lips twitching up. Percy making a motion to zip his lips, making her snicker.

It’s only a minute before someone’s joining the class and Annabeth’s snickering for an entirely different reason.

“Piper,” Annabeth says, laughing. “What are you wearing?”

“I like to think that I am wearing Gucci,” Piper says, posing over the camera. “What do you think?”

Annabeth has to stifle her laughs at her favorite student. “I think it looks… very original.”

“Why do I feel like that means you think it’s trashy, Ms. Chase? Do you think it’s trashy?”

Annabeth shoves Percy’s head out of frame as he tries to sneak a peek at Piper’s outfit. “To be fair, you are wearing a trash bag.”

“I am insulted that you do not know the difference between a trash bag and a plastic tarp,” Piper says.

Percy grunts as Annabeth shoves him backwards onto the bed again in an attempt to keep him out of camera because she is almost one-thousand percent certain that Piper would recognize him, and considering they were in the middle of a pandemic, Piper would also know that they had been staying together for a while. Annabeth loves Piper, but Piper has zero filter and absolutely will make a comment if she knew.

Eventually, a few more students join, and Annabeth spends time talking to them, trying not to burst out laughing at Percy’s mouthed remarks making fun of her students.

(“Your students are dumb as hell, Annabeth.”

“You are so lucky that we are on mute.”

“How do they even mess up ten plus seven?”

“I literally don’t even know.”)

Annabeth just tries to get through the hour without walking to the kitchen, grabbing a knife, and murdering herself with it. She really loves her calculus students, but someone once said that the smartest people lack the most common sense, and boy, that could not have been more true.

She thinks she’s in the clear. She makes it through the entire lesson without blowing her cover of staying with their teacher, and it’s actually much more exhilarating than she would’ve expected. It was like she was hiding some dirty secret from them as she avoided eye contact behind the camera and tried not to awkwardly jerk around when his hand found its way back onto her knee, delicately tracing shapes.

Annabeth is so close, and just as she’s getting ready to say goodbye, Piper just has to open her big mouth.

“Ms. Chase?”

“Yes, Piper?”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

Annabeth blinks, a sense of dread settling in her stomach. She suddenly feels as though something is about to go very, very wrong. “Depending on what it is, I may or may not answer.”

Over the screen, Piper keeps a straight face, but Annabeth has taught her for over three years, and she recognizes the fire in her eyes.

“Earlier today, I had a class with Mr. Jackson. Did you know I’m in marine science?”

“I did not,” Annabeth says, strained.

“I’m in marine science, and, uh, we had class earlier today over zoom. I was talking to Mr. Jackson for a little bit after.”

“Were you? That’s nice.”

“Yeah, Mr. Jackson is a super nice teacher. I think you’d like him.”

“Do you now?”

“Mh-hm. Anyways, we were talking, and I told him that I liked the painting that was hanging behind him.”

Annabeth freezes.

“It’s the same painting that’s hanging behind you.”

Oh god.

“Do you have something to tell us?” Piper asks.

Annabeth’s ears begin to ring as she realizes that she is inevitably screwed. Of course Piper would have no shame in outing her to the entire class of seniors because that was just how Piper was, but Annabeth should’ve been smart enough not to film in the same spot because she knows her students well enough to know that there is a torment of sex jokes about to come her way.

“You’re looking a little bit red there, Ms. Chase.”

“What exactly are you implying, McLean?”

“Why are you in Mr. Jackson’s apartment?”

Annabeth is so mortified that she cannot move, but Percy seems to be just as shameless as Piper because a second later, he’s hopping into frame, smiling widely at her students.

“Hey, Piper!” Percy chirps.

“Mr. Jackson! So nice to see you! Why is Ms. Chase in your apartment?”

Percy clicks his tongue. “Now, that is a good question, but the most simple answer is that we’re quarantining — is that a word? — together.”

Annabeth sees Leo unmute himself and she immediately drops her face into her hands.

“Well, well, well,” Leo tsks. “I didn’t know we were studying chemistry right now.”

“I will make you do integrals,” Annabeth threatens.

“I’d like to see you try,” Leo has the audacity to say.

Another student unmutes themself and Annabeth recognizes the voice as Reyna’s.

“I am disgusted to find out that my teachers are dating,” Reyna says.

Percy lights up. “Reyna! You haven’t been showing up to my classes!”

“Mr. Jackson! That is because I simply do not care! Also, I would’ve preferred to not know that you two are living together.”

“Me too,” Annabeth mutters.

“Are you dating?” Piper asks. “I’ve always wanted you to date.”

Annabeth’s eye twitches. “I— no, Piper.”

“We’re not?” Percy frowns. “I thought we were.”

“They don’t need to know that,” she hisses.

Percy, always a people pleaser, pointedly kisses her on the cheek. He was always able to brush things off with a laugh, and it’s something that made Annabeth fall in love with him, but right now, it was something she thinks he would be better off without.

“They don’t care,” he dismisses, turning towards the camera. “Yes, we’re dating! We’ve been dating for six months now.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s so cute!” Piper exclaims.

“I want to throw up,” Reyna says.

Leo gives an impish grin. “I felt my relationship senses tingling.”

“Shut up, Leo, no one cares,” Piper says, rolling her eyes. “Ms. Chase! I’m so happy for you! You guys should get married.”

“Way to jump the gun, Piper,” Percy says. “Give us another six months at least.”

“Also, now that we know you two are staying together — we aren’t stupid. We know what adults do when they’re alone, so just try to keep that off camera, ‘kay?”

Annabeth is actually going to drop down to the ground and cry in about two seconds. Piper wasn’t particularly wrong in her assumptions, but Annabeth did not need her students to know about her personal life in this much detail!

“Don’t think we don’t know about what you do when you’re alone with Jason,” Percy teases, and Annabeth actually chokes on air.

“But we’re not teachers—”

“Okay!” Annabeth interrupts, ready for this to be over. The can see the rest of her students screaming in chat, and she does not want to be here to witness this any longer. “I’m going to end this call now. Please never speak of this again.”

“I will bring this up tomorrow!” Piper says cheerfully, waving at them. “I—”

Annabeth clicks off the screen immediately, and the room goes silent.

She stays there with her head buried in her hands for a while, Percy’s hand still running up and down her back. His fingers curl as he scratches her skin languidly, waiting for her to get over her initial embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” Annabeth mumbles into her hands. “That was awful.”

“It wasn’t as bad as you think it was,” he assures.

“They’re never going to let us live this down.”

“They didn’t care,” Percy says, holding back a snicker. “At least now we can kiss in front of them.”

“You’re never getting any more kisses from me,” Annabeth says, standing up from the chair to try and walk the humiliation away.

Percy grabs her wrist, tugging until she looks him in the eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

Annabeth is so flushed that she wants to die, and her students now know about her current living status and have their own conclusions as to what they do when they’re alone, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel incredible.

She tilts her head as she looks at him and he does the same. There’s a fire in his eyes as he challenges her.

“I’m not going to kiss you right now if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Percy bites his lower lip, whole body shaking with laughter. “You so sure?”

Annabeth takes a step back as Percy takes one forwards. She finds herself cornered against the bed with nowhere to go. She turns back to face Percy, and she only has one second to prepare before he’s grabbing her and falling onto the bed beside her.

“Percy,” she says, jerking around when he started tickling her. “This isn’t — funny!”

Percy kisses her neck, fingers moving her shirt up slightly to grip her sides. “I think it’s hilarious. Your students found out you have a boyfriend. So what? You’re human.”

“Stop,” she says, snorting and jerking again as he squeezes and palms her stomach.

“Kiss me.”

Percy’s fingers stop moving along her skin as he hovers over her, looking deeply into her eyes. She feels so warm and loved, laying here with her best friend, and he’s the complete opposite of her, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s for moments like this, to balance her out.

And as she kisses him, she thinks that she can complain about her invasive students and cursed zoom calls later because the only thing that matters right now is making sure he keeps kissing her like she’s the only thing in the world.

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-17)

Word count: 5.3K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: ANGST, miscarriage, accident, graphic descriptions of blood, detailed/spoilery warnings in the tags.

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: Here it is guys, finally. I know most of you already know what’s going to happen but please please heed the warnings. If you have triggers please check the tags, I’ll put in everything I can think of including the spoilery warnings. I had a hard time writing this, so here’s to hoping I managed to convey the emotions.

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. You da best <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

24th April 2009

“I’ll be fine, really,” you said on the phone. “It’s only seven.”

On the other end Jo sighed. “Y/N, it’s starting to rain again, and it’s getting really dark outside.”

“Weird that it’s already raining in April,” you murmured. “I’m just around the bend of Clinton lake.”

“Why did you even leave the house?”

It was Sam’s birthday in just a little over a week. You really wanted to get him something. Sitting at home wasn’t giving you any ideas, so you had decided to go around to the other side of the big lake and try your luck at the engraving shop there. It had worked and you ended up placing an order for an engraved pen. It was a simple black fountain pen, part of which was made in obsidian, so your message could be engraved. Even if Sam used it regularly, it was supposed to be very durable and you were extremely pleased. You were also particularly proud of the quote you had picked. It wasn’t romantic in any way, but you had heard Sam read it out to you from your favourite book many times in that lovely voice of his.

You hoped Sam would carry the pen to work. Things were hard for him in New York right now, living by himself. He wouldn’t tell you if he ever had troubles at work, but you knew enough of the profession to know that it was ruthless, and sometimes hard. You couldn’t be there with him to tell him that things would be alright. Maybe if he looked down at the pen, the quote would remind him of that.

“Y/N? A storm’s about to hit that side, ” Jo fretted, slightly frustrated on the line. “Are you listening?”

“Yes,” you said, peering into the horizon just beyond the lake, beyond the pitter patter on the glass. It really was getting dark. “I’ll be home in a few minutes. In fact, I’ll come over directly to your place. I think Dean could use another apple pie.”

“No!” Jo shouted. “You go to your house.”

“Oh-kay.” Not suspicious at all. “What’re you not telling me?”

“Nothing!” 

Jo’s voice was too high to be believable. Either way, it wasn’t the best idea to stay out any longer. 

“I’m parked at a shoulder,” you told her. “I’m gonna hang up on you so I can get back on the road.

“Okay. Drive carefully.”

“See ya in fifteen,” you grinned as you cut the call on her vague protests. She really did want you to not visit her. Maybe she was throwing you that surprise baby shower afterall. 

“Looks like you and I have to pretend to be surprised, Chirp,” you muttered. 

Slowly, you reversed the car and eased it back onto the road, thinking about how cold it seemed to suddenly feel. Maybe you should turn the heat up further. 

It came out of nowhere. The blow. One minute you were sliding the car onto the road, next minute you were sinking, drowning, the shock not even letting you register what had happened. There was a bright, blinding yellow light- straight in your eyes at first, from a direction it shouldn’t have been coming from. The confusion just spiraled when the road which should have been beneath you was over your head, and then you were spinning out of control. You closed your eyes, unable to understand what was happening till the water hit. Then you started thrashing, trying to get the seat belt to loosen, to get yourself out of the vehicle, but even with all the whipping around, you couldn’t free yourself. The water rose higher and higher in the darkness as you struggled to strain your neck to rise above it… until you couldn’t.

Seconds… then your throat was hurting. No- it was burning. The world was turning upside down and you were in a torrent of water. Frantically, you tried to unbuckle yourself, but your swollen middle made it hard. That thought cleared your head more than anything else and you doubled, tripled your efforts to get out, finally managing to free yourself of the seat belt and open the door. For all your effort, it wasn’t soon enough because the van rolled in the dark water and hit something, plummeting you to the side, against what could only be jagged metal and pieces of glass.

You wanted more than anything to just go to sleep now. Maybe then the cold will seize and so would the sting. Everything was stinging. The cold water was biting into your skin like a thousand knives and the cold was so cold it burned, it set you on fire. But the shards, they were a different kind of ripping, tearing- outside on your skin and… inside.

No. You opened your eyes, and with every last ounce of strength, made your limbs move. There was pain. You knew it deep down that you were in a lot of pain, though right now you couldn’t feel anything beyond the haze in your brain and the ice under your skin. The burning in the throat was dulling, but you used it to remain conscious, to propel yourself up, because there was something infinitely more important in this world than your life. You had to force yourself to swim to protect that thing. 

The ripping once more and a stab… It was gut wrenching to keep pushing the water down with your hands, the consciousness was slipping again. Another convulsive spasm from the inside now… to the point where you felt something other than the cold… you felt it, you felt the pain, primal and devastating inside of you. The blackness overwhelmed you.

Something was patting your face and then something soft was on your lips. Soft and warm. 

“Jesus Christ,” a voice hissed, desperate, then shouted away from you, “She’s not responding! Jesus!”

“Stop with that, you moron,” another scared, deeper voice in the distance yelled. “Get the water out.”

“I-I can’t… I can’t roll her over on the stomach. She’s… she’s… Fuck.”

“Press her chest. We’ve got to do something till the ambulance comes. Slap her face again.”

pat pat pat.

The rain was thudding hard around you, hitting your face like arrows.

“Fuck, I can’t,” the first voice answered. “Her lips are blue and all this blood. Shit!”

“She’s not even shivering.” The other deep voice cursed. “Move aside, you idiot.” A different set of hands replaced the ones on you.

Pumps on your chest and then something on her lips again.

The first man, far away now, was shouting. “She’s gonna die… she’s gonna die… and they’ll think we did it. That bastard drove off and you- you had to stop driving.”

The voice near you growled in frustration. “Oh, fuck off!” He said urgently in your ears. “C’mon dammit! Keep fighting.” The pumping continued, but you didn’t fight to live. You knew it in your frozen bones that the reason you had been fighting for was gone. It was in the blood seeping from your middle, the blood rapidly staining your already drenched pants. It was in the glass and metal sticking out of your body. It was in the unbearable pain and the bone crushing cold, it was in the scared and defeated voices over you… he was gone. 

Pump. Pump. Pump.

“C’mon! Fight!”

You fought, yes. But not to live. You fought to go under, to never resurface ever again. What was the point? 

“Check her wallet,” the man over you commanded. “She’s married. See if you can get a hold of the husband.”

Sam.

“I can feel a beat. Fuck. Thank God.”

The tensed, shrill voice yelled from far away. “I think I hear the ambulance.”

“You hear that?” The voice, soft now commanded. “Stay with me!”

You heard it… you heard the siren… farther and then closer. The pain felt sharper now, agonising like hellfire burning in your veins. More voices, more pain… and then nothing.

***************************

26th April 2008

“Sam?”

“Sam, seriously. If you stop responding, I’ll slap an answer out of you. I swear I will.”

He looked up at the girl standing over him. Jo was scowling down at him, her voice high pitched and reedy.

“You need to eat something.”

He said nothing.

She grabbed him by the shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle. “Are you even listening to me?” Jo might have tried to shake him, he didn’t notice it. “Mom’s sent some food.”

“I’m not leaving her.” 

Jo’s body relaxed just a bit at his response. At least she had gotten one. He felt her take a seat next to him, without letting go of his shoulder. 

“You’re not helping her by starving yourself,” she said. “You think Y/N would want you to torture yourself like this?”

“I wouldn’t know what Y/N would want now, would I?” His voice sounded muted, dead, even to his own ears.

She sighed. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. The baby… Y/N…. you couldn’t have done anything.”

There’s nothing you could’ve done.

They were only words. His brother had said them, and Jo and Ellen; so many times that they had lost meaning to Sam now. Not that they had ever held any to begin with.

“Why’re you doing this to me, Jo?” He asked flatly, without even the intention of an inflection.

She took a deep breath. “Because Dean’s losing it, Sam. He’s fucking losing it seeing you like this. I’ve never seen him look this… this…” Her hands flailed in the air. “Crazed! He’s blaming himself for everything.”

For the first time, he turned to look at her and actually see her. Jo’s hair was coming out of the plait that she hadn’t combed out of for almost two days. Her face was grimy and blotched. Her eyes were red and nose shiny. She looked on the verge of tears still.

“It’s not Dean’s fault.” 

“It’s not yours either,” she yelled, exasperated,

“I should have been with her! Maybe then she wouldn’t have gone out.”

“It was a perfectly good day to drive. She was barely even out of town and it wasn’t her fault that a trailer doing ninety miles decided to make a bend on the wrong side of the road.”

Sam flinched.

The hand on his shoulder slid down and wrapped around his waist. “It was a freak accident. I know you’re hurting, Sam. I have to be blind to not see what this is doing to you, but think about what you’ll do to Y/N if she sees you like this.”

“I thought I lost her, too,” Sam whispered. “The way she looked.” A shudder ran through his body and Jo threw her other arm around him, as if to protect him, as if she could shield him from what had passed and what was to come. 

Sam had stayed with Y/N as long as they would let him. However, no one was allowed in the ICU, so he was forced to remain in the waiting area outside. Be that as it might, no one had been able to move him from here since that wretched phone call.

It felt like eons ago- Sam had paced the living room in their home impatiently, waiting for Y/N to come back from wherever she had driven to. Jo had arranged for a surprise baby shower, and to add to it, Sam had flown in a day early. It was a wonder to see her look of sheer joy each time Y/N found him home! He had spent the hour fixing that one odd joint in the crib, and then another trying to get the rainbow mural stuck on the wall opposite to the crib. Y/N would be so proud. He had been congratulating himself when the shrill ring of the phone interrupted his reverie. The phone call that had changed everything. 

“Y/N’s tough, Sam,” Jo whispered in his ears. “You heard the doctor, right? He said no one that far gone had managed to pull through all in one piece. She had a cardiac arrest from the hypothermia and she’s still with us.” Jo rubbed soothing circles into his back. “Shhh… it’ll be alright. She’s tougher than she looks, that one.”

“I don’t know how to tell her… how to face her.” Only when Sam’s voice broke did he realise that he was already crying. “I can’t see her in pain, Jo. It will kill me.”

“No, it won’t. You need to let others in. Let people help you first, so you can be there for her tomorrow. If you let yourself go to pieces, who’s she gonna turn to?”

Sam simply shook his head as the tears overwhelmed him. He knew he couldn’t stay weak, couldn’t afford to be fragile… especially not now.

Someone cleared their throat and Jo pulled back to reveal the nurse standing in the hallway. “Mrs. Winchester just regained consciousness.”

************

“Y/N, Darling.”

Sam’s voice. The only sound that could mean anything.

“You said she was awake,” he spoke, voice sounding farther.

“She is…” said another doubtful voice. A woman’s voice. “At least she was.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

His voice was dim and strained. You didn’t need to open your eyes to see the expression on his face.

“Doctor,” he said, frantic now. “What’s wrong with her?”

Cool hand pressed against your wrist, then another lightly prodded at your eyelid, trying to pry them open. You turned your head to the side, not willing to look.

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Darling?”

“Mr. Winchester, could I please request you step outside while I examine her?”

There was a pause, then the door opened and closed. 

“Mrs. Winchester, my name’s Richard Hawke and I’m your doctor. Could you please turn your head this way?”

You did. 

Against your hazy vision, much couldn’t be made out about Dr. Hawke except his kind eyes. “How’re you feeling? Is there any pain?”

You shook your head. Physically, you only felt numb. Your throat felt scorched, but that pain was welcoming. You needed it to feel something.

“Do you remember what happened?”

One dip your head.

Dr. Hawke looked at you for a long moment. “You’ve been through one hell of a trauma, Mrs. Winchester. It’s a miracle that you survived.” He gave you a compassionate smile.

You knew what his words really meant. ‘Be grateful that, at least, you survived.’

He studied the file he was holding, then said. “We had to perform a surgery when they brought you in. Thankfully, there are no fractures, just deep lacerations on your stomach, back and chest. To let you heal from the surgery and for the stitches to hold, we had to keep you under sedation for over a day and half.”

Dr. Hawke waited for you to give a sign that you understood, when he didn’t get one, he continued. “You need complete bed rest for a couple of days. That means no moving around or even standing for too long. If you’re in pain, please immediately call for the nurse.” His voice softened. “Do you want me to send your husband in?”

You looked him right in the eyes and very deliberately shook your head. 

He nodded and you closed your eyes, not wanting to see a world where your baby would never exist.

***************************

30th April 2008

“Y/N, do you want to take a walk?” Jo asked, trying to make her voice bright. “The doctor said you need to move around a bit, sweetie.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Dean added, in the same tone. “There’s actually sun outside today. No more gloomy, rainy weather.”

Sam felt himself stiffen and Dean shot him a wary glance. No one had mentioned rain in front of her. Their careful exchange was lost on Y/N though, just like everything else had been up until now. For all they knew, she hadn’t heard a word of the conversation. Her gaze was fixed, unseeing on the blinders of the window, through which some of the sunlight that Dean was talking about trickled in. The expression on her face was blank, exactly how it had been since she had first opened her eyes.

No one had told Y/N that she had lost the baby… she had already known. Not that she had told anyone that she knew. Hell, she hadn’t spoken a word in the four days since gaining consciousness. But it was just there, in that hollow look, like a blackhole. Each time Sam looked at her, the pit in his stomach would grow deeper, threatening to swallow him whole. His heart, which felt heavy in his chest beat frantically like its beats were numbered. It scared Sam… it made him feel as if the cataclysmic loss wasn’t behind him, rather it was in front, drawing close with every second that Y/N didn’t speak, didn’t look at him.

Forcefully, Sam shook his head, dislodging the thought. He got to his feet and walked over to the window Y/N had been looking towards. Slowly drawing the blinds away from the glass, he let the sunlight flood the room. He turned around to see Y/N closing her eyes. 

Over her Dean and Jo exchanged a distraught look, then looked at him. Their expression made Sam realise that he hadn’t been meant to see their exchange.

“Okay, rest up, then,” Dean said, in a low, kind voice. He bent down to kiss Y/N on her forehead. “We’ll be waiting outside.”

Jo ran her fingers through Y/N’s hair, then with one dejected sigh, followed Dean out of the room. It didn’t miss Sam’s attention that his brother gripped her hand tightly on their way out.

Sam took his place on the steel chair next to Y/N’s bed and reached out to take her hand. She didn’t shirk it away like she had for the first two days. Now, it lay there, dead, without any movement. Sam might as well have been holding the hand of a marble statue. Cold and hard. The doctor had said not to touch her skin at first… that it might be painful for her after the hypothermic attack, but even after they were sure that it might have passed, Y/N had recoiled from his touch and it had hurt like the lash of a flaming whip against his raw, exposed skin- her rejection. It had been the only visible reaction she had shown to his presence or even his words at first.

Sam had tried, he knew that much. He had tried with every ounce of his soul to put on a smile and call out to her. He had dried his eyes of the last drop of moisture, rid his expression of the last spasm of pain and smoothened it into a smile for her. If it was the only thing he could do now- bury his pain- he would do it for her. He would do it all. If only he knew that he was getting through to Y/N, if only she would spare him just one glance. When he forced himself in the way of her gaze, she would simply look through him. He could touch her and he could kiss her, but it was showing love to only her inanimate body, not his Y/N. She didn’t seem to be in there.

Bile rose to his mouth each time he skimmed his fingers along her cheek, and not even her eyes blinked. The heat didn’t rise to her cheeks. Nothing happened. 

Now, Sam sat next to her, reading out loud, “… Jem finally realized that he had been done in by the oldest lawyer’s trick on record. He waited a respectful distance from the front steps, watched Atticus leave the house and walk toward town. When Atticus was out of earshot Jem yelled after him: “I thought I wanted to be a lawyer but I ain’t so sure now!””

He stopped when the nurse came in with a bowl of soup and placed it on the table next to her bed. “Here’s some soup for you, honey.” 

“Thank you,” Sam murmured, placing the copy of To kill a mockingbird on the table.

“You’re welcome,” she said in a pleasant voice, giving Sam a pitying look before exiting the room.

“C’mon, love,” Sam coaxed, helping her into a sitting position. He settled besides her with the bowl in his hand, dipped the spoon into the thick soup and brought the spoon to Y/N’s bruised lips. She didn’t resist as he tipped it into her mouth. She never resisted anything. Sam wished with a yearning that was acute to the point of pain that she would just raise her eyes and look at him. Look and actually see.

His hopeless longing had led him to tilt the spoon sideways and a line of soup dribbled along her chin. Sam hurried to wipe it off with the folded sleeve of his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N hadn’t even noticed. 

Slowly, she finished the soup, one spoon at a time. 

“That’s my girl,” Sam encouraged, cleaning the last of it from her lips, and raising a glass of water. 

“Do you want to go out?” He asked, trying and failing to keep the despair out of his voice. This time, however, Y/N shook her head and hope, even more painful than the yearning, roared through Sam’s chest. She sometimes reacted to his words, something she never did for anyone else. And that was the one string he had clung to…. one golden string of faith.

“Later, then?” It was there in his voice, too… that same hope.

Slowly she nodded, then turned her head away and closed her eyes again. Sam knew she wanted to be by herself.

He almost bent down to peck her on the forehead, that unsettling fear of impending loss, urging him to do it… but then he thought better of it and stepped outside. When Y/N was ready, she would come out herself. She had said so… she would have to. 

In the strangest way, without even having known her, Sam missed his mother. He knew that if she had been around now, he would have hidden his face in her lap and allowed himself to cry to his heart’s content. He loved Karen, and she loved him, too… but it was different with her. She felt like his favourite aunt. Dean had called both Bobby and her to let them know what had happened. They wanted to come over immediately, but one look at Sam’s face had made Dean decline their offer. Sam didn’t think he could pretend to be alright for any more people than he already had to. 

Everyone else could afford to show weakness. In fact, they did. Jo had broken down more than once right in front of Y/N, and Dean could clench his fists and grind his teeth in frustration about how unfair this was. Ellen was so defeated, she could hardly even be around Y/N without crying. Sam, however, couldn’t show a flicker of what he truly felt. It didn’t look like she registered most of what was happening around her… but on the off chance that she did, Sam would die a hundred deaths before let her see what the grief was doing to him.

He slowly walked to the seating outside, crumpling on the bench at the corner. How was any of this happening? What deity could have been so cruel as to hurt the purest person to ever breathe? Sam had never gotten over how infinitely good Y/N was. For as long as he had known her, she’d never said one mean thing about anyone. Never. He knew he wouldn’t ever stop marvelling at her goodness. He would marvel as long as he loved her… as long as he lived. And yet, if something this horrifying could happen to her? What hope did the rest of the world have? 

There must be no God, Sam decided. There must be no higher power that weighs good and bad in the world, that takes one look at a person and decides how much suffering or happiness they deserved. Because no such entity would be so callous, so stone-hearted to sentence Y/N to this! 

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and Sam felt his brother drop into the seat besides him. 

“How’s she doing?”

Sam shrugged. “Much the same.”

“Did Bobby ever tell you that I didn’t talk until I was six?”

Sam turned to his brother with what must have been a look of shock. 

Dean’s eyes tightened, as he stared straight ahead. “He didn’t? I could swear the old man loved to tell that one.”

“I didn’t know.”

Dean tilted his head. “Well, I didn’t talk for two years after the fire. Honestly, I don’t remember it all that much, but death and trauma does that to a person, I’ve been told.”

“She doesn’t even know the extent of it, Dean,” He gasped, his heart doing that thing again where every breath seemed to labour it. 

“Will you love her less for it?”

Sam whipped his head, angry. “Of course not,” he spat. “Nothing would make me love her less!”

Dean sighed tiredly and Sam realised that it had been a rhetorical question. Sam put his face in his hands, speaking into his palms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just that something feels essentially broken inside her. And I don’t know how to fix it… fix her. It makes me feel helpless.”

“You’re not a frickin’ miracle man, Sam! And there isn’t a magical solution for this. Sometimes you have to let grief run its course.”

Dean was making sense, Sam knew that… but he also knew Y/N. Better than anyone alive. He was sure of it… the blankness behind her glassy eyes wasn’t the type that complied with sense or logic. It was a feeling in his gut that he couldn’t explain- not even to Dean, that there was something terribly wrong with her. That it wasn’t simply grief holding her vacant, it was something incomprehensibly beyond that.

“I know you want to be there for her,” Dean said, quieter now. “I know you’re worried, but you’re grieving, too, man. You lost your kid.” His voice broke. “That’s not something you can sweep under the rug.”

Sam bit back the ‘watch me.’ 

He felt too tired, too weary and too scared. 

“How am I going to tell her?” He whispered, staring at the floor in horror. “How am I ever going to tell her that she can’t be a mother again? That they had to remove parts of her body because they were too damaged, crushed? She’ll lose it, Dean. You don’t know how much she loved Ch- Ch… “ He choked up… The name just wouldn’t come out. “It was her dream to have her own family.”

She’d whispered it at night, in a awed, hushed voice, under soft sheets about how she had never really had a family. Just Gran and her- two souls shouldering the burden of memories of people they would never see again. Is that what Y/N would think when she found out? That she and Sam would become two such souls?

“She’s coming home tomorrow, right?” Dean said. “We’ll do everything we can to make it okay. With time…”

Even now, with his brother’s hand on his shoulders and his words in the air, Sam knew that this was not the type of grief he would ever get over. No amount of time could bury the dreams and expectations of the little life they had both yearned for. Sam knew that someday it might get easier to bear, even if it seemed impossible right now. However, it would never truly go away. 

With a fierce resolution, he vowed to love Y/N twice as hard! He would do whatever it took to get that smile back on her face, the light back in her eyes. He knew it in the depth of his being that if they were going to make it through this, he had to figure out a way to get her back first.

What Sam didn’t know was that he wouldn’t get the chance. What he didn’t see was the slight figure, standing at the far corner, behind the door, fingers clutching the frame till the knuckles strained. If he had turned, Sam would have known that Y/N had listened to him after all. She had come out for a walk… seen him slumped over in agony and heard his words of anguish. 

She had heard other things in the short nineteen years of her life. Whispers had followed her everywhere since her parents had died in the car crash. Awful words…

“… Her parents didn’t even live to see her sixth birthday…”

“… It starts before that. I heard she wasn’t even three months old when poor Gertrude’s husband passed away…”

“… Girl’s a jinx if I saw any… No survivors… ”

Sam had heard some of it at her Gran’s funeral, and it had boiled his blood. But he hadn’t dreamed, hadn’t estimated for how long Y/N had heard them, how word by word, piece by piece the rumours had lodged themselves in her mind. They had been lost in the recent bout of happiness, but very much there, waiting to cut her open the moment she tripped. She’d never spoken of them to him, afraid that she might really jinx her luck… terrified, in fact. Now she knew that you couldn’t jinx what you didn’t have.

“…How am I ever going to tell her that she can’t be a mother again.,.”

Sam didn’t see her turn around. For now he let his brother hold him, feel some of the grief ebb away from him into the vastness of his brother’s love. Sure, Sam didn’t have a mother, and he might miss the idea of having her, but he hadn’t ever missed that unconditional love. Dean was there, always had been and always would be.

Sam would need his brother more than ever tomorrow, when in the ten minutes that it took him to park his car in front of the entrance, the private room where his wife had stayed would be deserted. He would shout her name till his throat was sore, and lose his mind trying to look for her. There would be a missing person report filed which would soon be disposed off, because CCTV grab from the Hospital cameras would show her walking out by herself with the bag that they had brought for her. It had some of her clothes, her wallet recovered after the accident with her identity proofs. There was nothing left behind, not the book, not the brush, not even a note. She had left willingly and without a word.

They wouldn’t believe it, though… He, Dean, Jo and Ellen would all get into their cars and drive for a day and a half, checking all hotels, bus stops, gathering spots, showing her picture to see if anyone recognised her and despairing when no one did. Sam would push himself into a craze over finding his wife, the closest he would come to insanity.

When two days later- having driven almost across two states into Texas- Sam would return home, he’d find the gift delivered to him on the correct date- 2nd May. An etched, black obsidian fountain pen, wrapped in fine silk; the note over it proudly proclaiming: “With undying love- Y/N Winchester.”

The etched inscription on the pen would be seared into his soul:

It’s not time to worry yet - Atticus Finch

Sam didn’t know any of it. For now, he was simply allowing himself to be comforted by his big brother. Surely finding some peace again wouldn’t be that impossible, right? Surely this agony would have to end sooner or later. Everything seemed possible in Dean’s arms. 

***************************

A/N 2: Not gonna lie, this chapter was VERY hard to write. I rewrote it twice and edited it thrice. I can only hope that I did justice to their pain and suffering. This is the first time I’ve ever written something so irreversible in a series… and boy, was it painful!

Anyway, we can finally return to happier times! Next chapter takes us back to a very hungover Y/N! Who’s excited?

I’ll try to post the chapter early. You guys can brush up on Part 12 for hints and clues about what is coming ;)

The feedback is literally what’s keeping this story going right now. My immense thanks to all you lovely people who take the time out to be SO kind to me. I love you <3

If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

ALLU taglist:

@gabavaldman​  @im-a-light-child​  @cosicas-cuquis​  @bllyjianne​  @hoboal87​  @i-is-for-inspiring​  @daughterleftbehind​  @wackiekebab​  @mylovelydame21​   @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba​  @superbadassnatural​  @babypink224221​  @badlittlehabit99​  @anathewierdo​  @sams-bubblegum-bitch​   @fandomoverdose666​  @superstarmarvel​  @atc74​  @aiofheavenandhell​  @rebel-author-chick​  @death-unbecomes-you​  @cookiechipdough​  @kbl1313​  @linki-locks11​  @miss-nerd95​  @sunflowers-n-rocknroll​  @stoneyggirl​  @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​  @niyahgray​  @traceyaudette​  @blueaura​  @awfulmoons​

[charmandhex]

For @halcyonhowl, because I am rather late and also finally came up with a Taakitz idea I liked for the prompt “forbidden kiss.” ~

In Taako’s defense, this is not the worst decision he’s ever made. It’s probably just a few scant steps from the top of that list, but it’s not at the very top.

Still. Taako might end up regretting this one.

Listen, it goes without saying that dating the boss’s kid is a bad idea. Everybody knows that.

Pluuuuuuuus, you don’t want to get involved with your coworkers, ‘cause that can fuck up your whole working environment. Really bad idea.

Not to mention. Making out with someone the night before you’re getting on a small boat with seven other people, of which they are one, and so you’ll be stuck in confined quarters with them… for two months. Now that’s a stupendously bad idea right there.

Kravitz, son of the head of the IPRE, junior medical officer reporting to Captain D. Davenport, and the talented bard whom Taako had been sitting directly next to for the day’s earlier press conference about the Starblaster mission to explore and research the outer reaches of the Prime Material Plane for a period of two months, meets all of the aforementioned criteria to make kissing him a spectacularly bad idea.

And yet when Taako draws back from a spectacularly good first kiss, still very pleased with himself for hustling some shoes and now for another reason entirely, it’s Kravitz he sees, looking as gorgeous as ever and gratifyingly stunned.

“Uh- um-” Kravitz coughs a few times to clear his throat. “That was…”

As Kravitz is clearly collecting his thoughts after being blown away by the experience that is kissing Taako Taaco, Taako himself glances around, only half concerned that someone else on the mission might have seen.

Lup, tied for most brilliant arcanist/amazing chef aboard the ship with Taako and also Taako’s beloved twin sister, nails yet another trick shot at the pool table, causing an uproar of groans from anyone who’d dared bet against her. She looks up, eyebrow arched and mouth smirking, immediately catching her brother’s eye. She looks from Taako to Kravitz and back again, and she winks.

Yeah. Not like he’d expected to be able to keep a secret from her. He’s gonna get so much shit for this later.

Captain Davenport, the only other person actually capable of giving Taako shit for this, seems to be heavily engrossed in conversation with resident nerd Barry Bluejeans, probably going over last-minute bond engine shit for tomorrow. Neither of them has noticed shit, thank fuck.

Though Taako doubts that one of their resident arcanists/chefs kissing their junior medical officer would be the thing to get their attention, considering that their twenty-year-old security officer built like a brick shithouse has managed to start a bar fight. Magnus Burnsides looks to be having the time of his life and utterly oblivious to everything else.

Their senior medical officer, Merle Highchurch, seems to be trying to placate a few seedy-looking ruffians and on his way to unintentionally starting a second bar fight, while occasionally popping up over the bar behind him to look around is their chronicler. Eh, if Lucretia has seen anything, she might write it down, but she’s too quiet to actually say anything.

“Uh. Taako?” Right. Hot boy alert. Taako turns back to the hot boy in front of him, now looking less stunned and a bit more awkward. Kravitz has reached up to scratch at his neck and is needling at his lip, still thinking of what to say. “Uh, should we- is this-” Someone’s beer bottle soars over their heads, exploding as it crashes into the wall behind them. The place is enough of a dive that Taako doubts the stain on the wall and the layer of broken glass on the floor will even be noticeable.

“Tell ya what, bones, why don’t we get out of here?” Taako asks with a dazzling smile.

“Um. Sure, but- bones?” Kravitz looks askance at Taako as they stand.

“Yeah, you know, like Fantasy Star Trek? The medical officer?”

Taako realizes his mistake as Kravitz’s face crinkles up into a smile, and he laughs. It’s a nice sound. Taako could get used to that. “I would have thought that was too nerdy for you.”

“Yeah, uh, yeah, it is. Doesn’t mean you don’t get the whole… nerd cultural osmosis when you live on a campus with a bunch of nerds. And besides, you got that reference once I explained it!”

“Yes, but I never professed to not be a nerd,” Kravitz says smugly.

“Yeah, because anybody who spends more than eight hours a day playing violin can’t exactly deny it.”

Kravitz opens his mouth to reply, but whatever retort he was going to make is cut off as they very suddenly have to move as a large purple Dragonborn sails backward through the air, crash landing squarely into their table and collapsing it. Taako grins at Kravitz, this one no dazzle, all humor. “So, about getting out of here?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

It’s quieter, outside, far quieter than Taako would expect, with even the birds and cicadas seeming to hold their breath in anticipation of the summer storm to come. Dark, too, and darker than expected, with massive gray clouds hanging heavy in the sky, blocking out the sky and stars.

“Seems like bad luck,” Kravitz says, looking up at the sky. “Starting a voyage off with a storm.”

Taako shakes his head, the bells on his hat jingling. Even those seem muted. “Nah, bones. It’s just to make it easier to leave behind.”

“If you say so.”

Taako scoffs, throwing the hustled shoes over his shoulder. “Listen, I am an adult elf and over 100 years old.” Of course, that statement may be reliant on some considerable rounding, but no one needs to know that. “I know what I’m talking about.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of lifetime.” Kravitz says, and Taako’s eyes are drawn to the bard’s very human-looking ears. Something twists, disquieted, in his stomach. Probably just those greasy bar snacks Lup had dared him to try.

“Yeah, well, play your cards right and not like that chucklefuck-” Taako jabs his thumb in the direction of the bar, and as if on cue, there’s a whoop from Magnus, “-and you might just see the other side of a century, my man.”

Kravitz laughs, and again, Taako is surprised by how much he likes the sound. “I guess we’ll see. Oh, and, uh, thanks, again, for…”

Taako’s mouth quirks into a grin, and he lets out a laugh of his own. “Saving your ass from getting hustled at pool? If Lup and I had known you were such an easy mark, you’d be barefoot right now, my dude.”

Kravitz feigns injury at that. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I fuckin’ would. You should avoid gambling, bones.”

“But it’s fun!” Kravitz whines. “I like gambling, I like games and wits and wagers.”

“So you like losing too?”

Kravitz blows out a breath, defeated. “No.”

“Gotta say, I think I won on both counts though, what with the shoes and the boy,” Taako says, and Kravitz brightens up at that. Impulsively, Taako grabs Kravitz’s hand, ignoring the look of surprise and immediately being surprised himself. “Fuck, bones, your hands are cold.” Taako yelps.

“Ah, circulation issues,” Kravitz says, looking almost embarrassed. “Hereditary. You don’t have to… Taako, why are you holding my hand?”

Good point. Why did Taako actually grab their junior medical officer’s ice-cold hand? “Pfft, yeah, listen… listen, it’s dark as shit, and you humans can’t see in the dark. How else are you gonna get safely home if my magic eyes and I don’t escort you?” Taako pauses, doubt finally catching up to him. “But if it’s a problem…” Taako says, making to disentangle his hand from Kravitz’s.

“No!” Kravitz exclaims, just a little too loud. “No. By all means. Lead the way.”

Taako grins before raising Kravitz’s hand to kiss it. “Gladly.”

Sure, this might a bad idea, but at the end of the day, it’s two months, right? What could happen?

[griff-us]

Black Out Days | Chapter 2

Pairing: James Bucky Barnes/ Original Female Character.

Important Tags/Genre: AU-canon divergent, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Relationship, Depictions of Violence, Fluff, Angst.

Word Count: 2338

Summary: He is decommissioned; more out of a personal choice than from outside pressure. James wants nothing more than to live simply---considering the over complications and trauma of his one hundred and six years of existence. So, he leaves New York and settles in a small town off the coast of Maine.

And that’s when he meets her. An odd little bartender by the name of Honey. And that's when his life once again faces complications.

Authors Notes: I'm really just free-forming this from start to finish. Rather than writing about the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier I'm gonna focus on the in-between. The next chapter should be out in a week! Likes, reblogs are always appreciated, and if anyone wants to be on the tag list feel free to let me know! I'm also gonna make a master list before the next chapter comes out for my own sanity. Thank you all for the support so far!

Also on A03

84 Dive becomes a safe space for him--at least that’s what his therapist had informed him. James had admitted one day very casually over the phone that he didn’t understand why he kept going back. By all accounts the dingy dive bar was, well just that; graffiti scribbled all over the bathrooms---even the toilet seats. Stickers and posters from past bands and shows had begun to peel and wither away from the sickening, decades old paint that coated the walls. Not to mention the unruly regulars.

“You’re comfortable there, James. Just enjoy it.” That's what she had told him, and while he sits at the shoddy old bar he wonders briefly if it is the bar itself, or perhaps the scrappy little bartender that keeps him coming back.

“I smell smoke.” as if on cue, Honey appears, her many braids piled high on top of her head in something akin to a messy bun. James cocks his head, and she’s a keen one, having already picked up on his silent little quips. “You think too much, James.” she grins, hands busy hand drying the pint glasses that sit on top of the bar. He stays silent a moment, fingers flexing around his own glass. He can’t exactly get drunk anymore, but the act of having a beer or two after a long day feels---normal.

“Bucky.” he finally relents, and it's her turn to tilt her head. “Call me Bucky.” Honey beams at him, and nods.

“Alright, Bucky it is.” She tests the name against her tongue, and he finds himself wanting nothing more than to hear her repeat it. “M’ gonna be closing up soon, it’s a bit too slow to stay open. You’re welcome to hang around while I clean.”

He takes stock of the room and finds it empty--when had that happened? Flesh finger taps the cracked screen of his phone: 23:00. James doesn’t answer, but he stays put watching while she shuffles around behind the bar.

“You from this town?” shoulders roll while he leans back in his seat and Honey humms idly, as though she were debating on how to answer.

“No, I moved here about seven years ago.”

“Why?” the question slips out easily, suddenly. Honey pauses, and watches him from under long lashes while she hand washes the last of the shot glasses.

“You’re awfully talkative today.” James takes the moment to gulp down the rest of his beer. Lips smack, and he makes a point to unclench his jaw.

“My therapist told me I should talk more, make more friends while I’m here so--” he throws up a hand as if to say, and here I am.

“Bucky Barnes has a therapist?”

“Condition of my parole.”

She laughs, and it nearly knocks the breath out of him. It’s like wind chimes on a breezy summer day. And God damn if the way her entire face lights up, those dimples of hers making an appearance, doesn’t knock him down and out. James clears his throat, looks down at the chipped and cracked screen of his phone again.

“Sorry--” Honey simmers down, hands tuggin the white cloth from her back pocket to dry her hands. “--parole. Just, what a world we live in, yeah?”

“You’re telling me, doll.”

“Well, I’m all done here. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Honey skirts out from behind the bar, and he can’t help but watch as she rummages through the nearby supply closet to grab her backpack, and a change of shoes.

“Gonna be out of town for a little bit, actually.” James stands to follow her up the stairs and out the front door.

“A shame, who else will be around to keep me engrossed with such thrilling conversation?” he cocks a brow, eyes rolling briefly while she stifles another laugh.

“You say’n you’ll miss me?” Where the hell did that come from? He regrets the question as soon as it leaves his lips. Honey rolls her shoulders while she locks the door behind them.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” James calms his nerves and averts his eyes. There’s no one around, the street empty save for his bike, and then it hits him.

“How you getting home?”

“I walk usually.” Honey jerks a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of what he assumes to be her home. But he is having none of it. James tutts at her, and motions her toward his bike.

“It’s late, I’ll give you a ride.” gloved hands snag the helmet from his seat, holding it out to her. Honey looks him over, and then the bike.

“I don’t wanna take your helmet, what if you get hurt?” It’s his turn to bark out a laugh, and he notes the way her cheeks flush just so.

“Super soldier, doll--” he taps the side of his skull. “--remember?” Honey grins, and snags the helmet from his hands.

-----

“The hell are you looking at?” Sam’s voice yanks him back to reality, and irks him to no end all in one moment. James locks his phone screen, tucking the device in his pocket while shoulders press back further into the hard metal of the plane. Sam cocks a brow, as if to pester him further, and James is starting to regret forcing his way into this little operation.

“Don’t worry about it.” a beat of silence, and finally, he mumbles. “Look'n at instagram.”

He’d found her profile easy enough; people these days were easy to find on the internet, and always posting something. Her bio was simple: name, age, location, and the page itself was a few selfies, pictures of friends and food. It was cute, simple. Very---Honey. Her last post was what looked like a candid shot; as though someone had caught her mid laugh. She was at the bar, though not working; clad in jeans and a nice top, her hair split into two buns that sat perched on either side of her head. James could hear the sound of her laugh in the back of his head while he traced the curve of her cheeks with his eyes.

“Since when are you on Instagram?” Sam looks puzzled, and perplexed. Someone speaks over the intercom, a red light blares overhead. James stands and follows the other to the door.

“Shut up.”

-----------

“And you didn’t punch him?” she’s pours him another beer, and makes sure to set it down on the coaster provided. James had been gone nearly a week with Sam, and with the mess of everything that had happened he is more than happy to be back in his favorite dive bar.

“I figured I had probably broken enough laws already that day.” he plucks the glass from the bar top with gloved hands, and Honey shakes her head.

“Who would have thought John Walker would be such an ass.”

“Everyone.”

“And what kind of name is Battlestar?”

“Thank you!” James throws his hands in the air, still as irritated as he was when he first heard the ridiculous title. Honey chuckles some, surprised to see him so animated.

“Well, I’m glad you made it back in one piece.” James eyes flicker high, and she's staring at him so intently---the honesty in her tone is hard to miss. And he wonders, just for a second, if she had been worried while he was away.

“You never told me why you moved here.” he has to change the subject; brain moving a mile a minute with what ifs, and anxiety. He needs to ground himself in something other than his own mind. Honey quiets some, just as she had the last time, and as sigh slips past full lips.

“Oh you know. Moved out of my hometown to get away from my past. Wound up here, and just haven’t left.” James notes the way the honey in her eyes falters as she talks of home.

“I can relate to that.” a pause. “What happened?” Honey leans against the bar, elbow propped on top of it, pointed chin resting in the palm of her hand.

“A man.”

“Aren’t they the worst?” lips quirk into the smallest of smiles, as though he were trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re not so bad.” That throws him. Mouth opens as if to say something, anything, but his brain is blank and James is rushing to make sense of his cluttered thoughts. Honey watches him, a laugh bubbling forth and spilling from between parted lips. “Speaking of men, I need a strong one to help me with something tomorrow; think you're up for it?”

He’s thankful for the topic change, and James nods while he taps a finger against his glass.

“Sure can, doll, long as I can get another beer.” She plucks his glass from the bar top, a muted smile spread across her cheeks while she turns to pour him another.

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

“Could you have found a heavier couch?” Of course she needed help moving something; James can’t imagine the woman needing to ask help for much else. Honey had pointed out the antique sitting out on a curb only a block from her house. Just need to get it up one flight of stairs, she had said. James thought it easy enough, but he forgot how heavy and awkward old furniture could be.

“Are you complaining, Mr. Super Soldier?” Her voice rings like bells from the top of the stairs of her apartment building, and James grunts some while he readjusts the couch against his shoulder.

“Not really. You better have beer up there for something as payment or else I’ll have to bill you.”

“Oh, so you plan on staying for a while, Buck?” Her tone is light, teasing, and he can’t help the grin that splits his face while he lands the last step. They have gotten more comfortable with one another; comfortable enough to tease, flirt, and jest. It’s nice. To be comfortable around someone again.

“I’ll stay around long as you need me to, Doll.” he catches the flush that graces her tanned cheeks, and a lopsided grin splits his face. They stand there a moment in silence, eyeing one another before James finally clears his throat. “So uh, where is this going?”

“Oh!” Honey zips down the hall, beckoning him to follow while hands busy themselves with the contents of her bag. “It’s a little messy-” James slips through the open door all the while easily maneuvering the musty old couch along with him. “Right here--” Honey motions to an empty spot just under two massive windows and he deposits the piece of furniture with a thunk. James takes stock of the apartment; bigger than he thought it would be. The space bosat a decent sized kitchen, separate living area, and small hall he assumes leads to the bedroom.

“Hope you’re not allergic to cats, there’s one kicking around here somewhere. She’s a bit of a drama queen, watch out.” Honey meanders through the kitchen, and James can hear the clatter of her keys hit the counter. He pokes around the living room, impressed with the plethora of healthy growing plants---all of them hung or tucked into clean shelving for maximum sun time. Books litter every flat surface, some crime thrillers, but mostly random subjects such as philosophy, poetry, and history. It’s very---her, he thinks.

“Got that beer for me, Doll?” she rounds the corner, handing him an amber bottle with a fancy looking label. Brow arches, and he pops the top to take a swig.

“It’s some local craft beer, not my favorite. I’d rather stick with liquor.” Honey chuckles lightly while flopping down into her new couch, and James watches while she seems to take stock of the new addition to her home. “Thanks for your help, Buck.” Honey lounges back into the sofa, her tiny frame sinking into old foam. An easy shrug rolls from his shoulders, and James moves to join her.

“S’no issue. No way you would have been able to lift that on your own.” James leans back along with her, legs spread slightly so that their knees touch. Honey hums idly to herself, chin creadled in the palm of her hand and he wants nothing more than to reach out and smooth the crease in her brow with the pad of his thumb.

“What are you thinking about over there?”

“Food.” he laughs some, gloved fingers picking away at the label of his bottle. “Lets get dinner, my treat?” Honey looks at him then, cheeks tinted a crips shade of pink and James grins.

“Are you asking me on a date, Doll?”

Full lips open to answer, and he watches as embarrassment creeps onto her face. But before she can answer his phone rings--a loud bleating noise that makes them both jump. James holds up a single finger as if to say, just a moment, and he answers without even checking who it might be.

“What?”

“Well hello to you too, princess.” James recognizes Sam’s voice right away. “We’ve got a lead, you in?”

“Yeah, send me the location.” Honey watches while James stands, his drink left on the side table and long forgotten; she chews her bottom lip while he finishes the last of his conversation.

“Sorry, Doll.” he gives her a sad sort of smile, and Honey waves a hand as if to imply there wasn’t any issue.

“Duty calls, I guess?” James nods and slips his phone into his back pocket.

“Yeah, not sure how long I’ll be gone this time.” Honey stands to follow him to the door, and he doesn’t miss the worry that fills her eyes, or the return of that crease between her brows.

“Just be safe.” Her voice is quiet, distant, and James leans forward to press cool lips to her cheek. Her skin is as soft as he’d imagine, and this close she smells of vanilla and lavender.

“Don’t worry about me, Doll.” too nervous to stay any longer, James pulls away quickly, and leaves while gently shutting the door behind him.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

High School AU (8) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: June 7th, 2022

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven

Baby Project - dxnhowell

Summary: Sophomores have to do a project in Health class. They take a baby doll home and they have to treat it like it’s a real baby. Some people are excited about the project, some people aren’t. Chris is one of those people who are not excited about it, while his boyfriend is.

Baby, They Ain’t Got A Clue (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Dan, the shy new kid in school, is asked to prom, but his date stands him up. Phil, the popular outgoing kid in school, is stood up by his date too.

chemistry (ao3) - howelllesters

Summary: Based on the prompt ‘sporty!dan is lab partners with computergeek!phil and magic happens.’

Flower Crowns and Footballs (ao3) - sadia_xoxox

Summary: Dan Howell, a delicate pastel princess, starts at a new school and is shown around by the school's best footballer, Phil Lester. While on the surface the two seem to be complete opposites, will they attract or collide?

Got The Glow In Our Mouths (ao3) - dandrogynous

Summary: "We sat together in Chemistry," Dan whispers, and Phil says, "yep," and that's how it starts.

(a high school au where Dan finds Phil and Phil finds his footing)

heaven help the fool who falls in love (ao3) - glasseslouis

Summary: dan is positive that prom is stupid.

until phil agrees to be his friend-date, of course.

the high school prom AU that nobody asked me for featuring pizza puns, drunk decisions, and fox shirts

I'll Hold Your Flower Crown (ao3) - kitchen_sinks

Summary: Small pastel!Dan gets drunk at a party and throws up all over punk!Phil and his leather jacket.

In Which Dan Is A Bit Of An Asshole And The Whole Story Is One Big, Fat Cliché (ao3) - obsessivechild

Summary: Dan hated school. He hated running. He hated going out. He hated homework. But above all, he hated Philip Lester.

It’s All Fun And Games (Until You Get Blackmailed) - dxnhowell

Summary: Dan and Phil are in a relationship, but everybody at school thinks they hate each other. In order to have a fun date night, Dan and Phil travel out of town so nobody recognizes them. They think they’re safe, but are they?

Looks Can Be Deceiving (ao3) - Phanfictionhoe

Summary: The new kid that scares everyone because of his looks teaches Dan that you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

Pastel Shirts And Otis Redding (ao3) - Colourful Shakespeare (blue_popolo)

Summary: Dan isn’t gay, he isn’t straight either, and there’s a cute boy with glasses and a fringe coming over to talk to him. His names Phil and he smiles and laughs and is clumsy, he makes Dans insides twist and curl into butterflies. Suddenly Dan isn’t interested in the sport involved in the Sports Camp.

Pastel Sweaters, Red Varsity Jackets, And A White Wig (ao3) - Star4545

Summary: Dan and Phil have been dating for a few weeks. Within a few days, Phil realizes the truth of why Daniel Howell always wear a white wig on his head and Dan learns how hard it is to love.

Speaking Out (ao3) - TrashFan

Summary: When Dan moves to a new school mid-term, he's taken under the wing of a group of misfits and things aren't looking so bad. Despite the friendly ease they all have, there are some serious questions in the back of their minds. Why won't Dan explain what happened at his old school? Why does Phil post fantastic video blogs but refuse to say anything in person? Will they be able to pull of a seemingly impossible task for the sake of a grade?

Or, in which mute(ish)!Phil and newkid!Dan deal with dark pasts, awkward romance, and a gross school project.

teach me how to kiss (ao3) - cityscaped (touchofgold)

Summary: Dan is a typical notorious bad boy smoker who couldn't give a shit about anything. Phil is a quiet librarian nerd who spends too much of his time in an abandoned tower in school. After rumours were spread that Dan had slept with many girls, and his two friends finding about it, Dan's dirty little secret is exposed.

Dan has no idea how to kiss.

And what does he do? He gets kissing lessons from Phil.

to all the people i've loved before (and the one who actually made me fall in love) (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil doesn’t crush on people often, but when he does the emotions seem to overwhelm him. The only way he knows how to deal is to write love letters. They were never meant to be read.

The most recent letter threatens to ruin his relationship with his big brother Martyn, so in a fit of panic, Phil finds himself turning to the boy who was the recipient of the very first love letter for help. Even if he is Dan Howell, the school heartthrob.

Two Blushing Pilgrims (ao3) - hxwell

Summary: "Our teacher ships the two of us and we're reading Romeo and Juliet" au//Dan owns 7 pairs of the same jeans and high-fives everyone he sees while Phil listens to Neutral Milk Hotel and paints in his spare time

Two Doors Down (ao3) - danfanciesphil (thejigsawtimess)

Summary: Dan drums in the dead of night to dispel the quiet. Phil can hear him from two doors down.

You're As Cute as 3.142 (ao3) - phanetixs

Summary: “Dan, sweet sweet Dan. All the girls in our class are mad about Phil Lester with his blue eyes and cheekbones and what is he doing about it? Dan, all he’s doing is staring at you,” Louise raises an eyebrow whilst saying this and Dan’s mind becomes increasingly fuzzy in connecting the dots.

or, the story of Dan & Phil, Math rivals, who are secretly into each other.

[floralguccistyles]

oh my goodness guys, this is the last chapter of wildflower before the epilogue. I will gush over all the feels in the epilogue, so please enjoy this chapter until then.

wildflower :: chapter five

...and kisses you

My eyes were crusted with sleep, even though I had probably gotten only an hour.

My apartment still held enough stuff for me to sustain a healthy-ish habitation for about three days. Eventually, I would have to go back to Lily’s apartment and get some work clothes and my makeup products. For now, however, I just cuddled deeper into my blanket and stared at the window. 

I knew my phone would have a thousand and one text messages and missed calls from Lily. I knew the responsible thing to do would be to let her know I was okay and safe and that everything was going to be fine, but the truth was...I didn’t know if everything was going to be fine. Seeing Kent had shaken something in me, but what was even worse were the feelings of betrayal and stupidity.

I’m just someone who has been in love with you for over ten years.

That meant every school dance, every family movie night, every trip to Matilda’s doughnut shop, he had been hiding his feelings. And I felt betrayed. Not because I had suspected he would end up with Lily. But because I felt...dumb. I felt oblivious for not knowing, especially when my sisters seemed to. I felt betrayed because it was like everyone was in on it except for me.

And I felt betrayed because maybe if I had known earlier…

I groaned, rolling over to stare at my ceiling. I didn’t want to focus on the what ifs. The damage was done. I had a crush on Niall, he may or may not still be in love with me, and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.

Eventually I pulled together enough willpower to pick up my phone. As expected, I had thirteen text messages and six missed calls from Lily. She seemed to have told Violet as well, because even my younger sister had texted me with a hesitant, you okay? But the one thing that made me sit up in my bed was the voicemail notification from Niall.

“Hey Rose. Lily’s freaking out. She doesn’t know where you went. We’re trying to give you space, obviously, but could you just confirm where you are? Violet thinks you’re at your flat, which is fine. Just let someone know, yeah? I’m...we’re worried. I get it if you never wanna speak to me again. I just...I’m sorry, Rose.”

I replayed it back. And then a third time.

And then I grabbed my purse and dug around in it until I found what I was looking for, crumpled at the bottom and sprinkled with what might have been biscuit crumbs. My hands shook when I held it, but I took a deep breath.

“Premier Health Services Center, how can I help you?”

~

I had only been to a therapy office once.

It was shortly after we had moved from America to Ireland. I was a little too young to know what was going on, but my parents had wanted us to see a therapist just once to make sure we were adjusting well. From what I remembered, he was a very nice man who smiled a lot. I’m sure four-year-old Rose talked his ear off and he reported back to my parents with full confidence that I was adjusting just fine.

Somehow, I didn’t think this appointment would go the same.

The office itself was nice. It was decorated with muted shades of navy blue and white furniture. I imagined this relaxed some people, but all I could think of was that this place needed some color. My knee bounced up and down and I stared at the clock. My appointment was scheduled to start in two minutes, and I suddenly wished I had scheduled an early morning appointment so I would be too tired to try and escape.

Doctor Hildegunn’s door opened and an older man stepped out of the office, holding a tissue in his right hand. I assumed he wasn’t Doctor Hildegunn, considering I had seen a picture of the therapist and she was a tiny Swedish woman. I found her walking behind him, giving him a gentle smile.

“Have a good day, Devon,” she said to the man, her voice soothing and soft. I wondered if that’s why people liked her so much. “Rose Fairbrough?” Her eyes cut across the space to me, and she smiled again.

I nodded, ceasing my knee-bouncing and standing up. I took hesitant steps into her office, which thankfully had more color than the lobby of Premier Health Services Center. Her chair was green velvet, like one of those couches straight out of the 1970’s, and I found myself relaxing a bit. Books littered her wall behind her, ranging from psychology books to what looked like William Shakespeare.

The couch she gestured for me to take a seat on was the same green velvet of her chair. I gingerly moved the throw pillow so I could sit, returning my leg to it’s knee-bouncing. “Um, my sister recommended you. She’s a student at Dublin University.”

She nodded. “Violet. She’s one of my clients. She told me she was going to ask for my card for you.”

“Right. And,” I gestured to her office, “here I am.”

“And what do you want to discuss today?”

I raised a brow. When I had made the appointment, I had specified that it was because of a sexual harassment that I thought I needed to work through. At my quizzical look, she grinned.

“This appointment is about you, Rose. We can jump right into the sexual harassment, or you can talk to me about your family. This is about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about my family,” I said, shaking my head. “I just...I want to get over this whole thing. I ran into...my harasser, I guess...two days ago. I just froze.”

“Do you feel comfortable sharing the details of the harassment?”

“It’s not severe or anything. I think that’s why I was so hesitant to make an appointment in the first place. I know people have been through worse, and I didn’t want to make it seem like a big deal.”

“If it’s affecting you and your daily life, it’s a big deal, Rose,” she said softly.

And it was affecting my daily life. It had been affecting my life for the last year. So I told Doctor Hildegunn about Kent’s proposal, about not feeling safe at my job and the shitty response from Human Resources, and I told her about seeing him outside of the antique store. I told her that I was afraid to sleep alone, so I hadn’t slept in my apartment for a year.

But then I started talking about other things.

I spoke about how I was sad to give up my apartment, and about how I felt about Lily and Violet going behind my back to try and get me to a therapy appointment, and about how I pushed away the people I loved and who loved me.

I didn’t dare mention what had happened with Niall. I didn’t think my heart could take it at the moment.

Doctor Hildegunn listened as I spoke so much my mouth went dry. She retrieved a water bottle from a fridge she had hidden behind the little desk in her office and I took three big gulps as I waited for her to say something.

When she did, it wasn’t what I had been expecting her to say. “Do you genuinely think therapy is going to work for you?”

“W-what?” I stuttered out.

“You said you were hesitant about therapy because you still wanted to feel normal. Do you feel abnormal sitting here in a therapy setting?” 

“Yes,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I know therapy will help, but I just feel wrong sitting here. Maybe it’s the guilt. I mean, the girl at Niall’s school—”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about being affected by what happened to you, Rose. You know that, right? Your feelings are valid.”

I didn’t say anything, just picked at a thread on my sweater.

“At Dublin University, there’s a sexual assault survivor’s group. They meet every Monday at 5:30 PM. I think, if you’re open to that, going to it could be very beneficial. Sexual assault or harassment is a big deal, even if you don’t want to believe it is. There are people in there who feel the same as you. That someone has it worse, so they shouldn’t complain. But this group will allow you to complain, Rose. They won’t judge you. They’ll understand. I’d like to see you once every two weeks, but if you aren’t comfortable with that, we can work something out.” She set aside the little notebook she had been writing in. “Going to therapy and attending these group meetings...they don’t differentiate between what you call ‘Normal Rose’ and the Rose you are now, here getting help. They’re just going to help you transition into a new normal.”

A new normal. The idea of a new normal scared her. She was so used to bottling up how she felt for the sake of others. She was used to staying in the receptionist job because it was secure and safe. 

And she was used to how things were with Niall.

“Here’s the information for the group,” Doctor Hildegunn said, handing me a bright yellow sheet of paper. “Try it out, see if you like it. And if you’d like, we can schedule an appointment here in two weeks time.”

I left the office with a therapy appointment in two weeks and the bright yellow sheet of paper tucked underneath my arm. I put it in my car’s glove box for safekeeping, knowing that the time and place of the meeting was seared into my brain. 

My phone beeped with a text. I was expecting it to be Lily, since I had blearily texted her yesterday morning before I had made an appointment with Doctor Hildegunn that I was safe, but to my surprise, it was my younger sister’s name that popped up.

How’d it go? Doctor H is really cool.

On a whim, I pressed the green phone button next to her contact.

“Rose? You good?”

“I have a favor.”

“Yeah, I’m good too. Got a ninety-seven percent on that biology test I was stressing about. Thanks for asking.”

“Do you want to go apartment hunting with me today?”

It was silent on her end. “Flat shopping? You...you aren’t gonna live with Lily anymore?”

No, I decided. No, I wasn’t. “No. I need to get my own place. And maybe giving up the apartment I have now is a good thing. I need someplace fresh. So, will you go with me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather go with Lily?”

She tried hard to mask it, but I heard the hopeful lilt to her voice. I never called her out of the blue to hang out with her, and I definitely didn’t include her in big life decisions. It was always Lily I ran to. And while Lily was still my rock and would be until the end of my days, when I heard Violet sound so hopeful, I knew I had made the right choice.

“Nope. I’ll pick you up in twenty. We’ll get some coffee.”

“Okay,” she said, and I heard the barely contained excitement. Then, a pause. “But I bought the coffee last time so you’re buying today.”

“Deal.”

~

The second I stepped into Lily’s apartment, I was enveloped in her arms. 

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, pulling me in close. She backed up and put her hands on my shoulders, then did a double take when she saw Violet behind me. “Vi?”

Violet waved. “Hey, Lil. We’re starving. Do you have those take-out menus in that kitchen drawer still?”

Lily gestured in the direction of the kitchen with a confused look on her face, like she was still trying to piece together why Violet was at her apartment and why we had come there together. Violet went off in the direction of the kitchen, rummaging around in the drawer as Lily pulled me over to her couch.

“Are you feeling alright? Why is Vi here? Not that I’m complaining, but it was kinda the last thing I expected.”

“She was helping me go looking for apartments.”

Lily’s brows furrowed. “You went apartment shopping? But....but Rose, you know you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

I did know that. And I loved Lily for it. “I know. But I’ve got to get out and start living my own life again. I think getting a completely new place might help. Also, I went and saw Violet’s therapist today.”

“Oh yeah, how was Doctor H?” Violet asked, coming back into the living room with the menu for a Vietnamese restaurant in her hands. “We all good with pho for dinner?”

I told them about the appointment. “She also suggested I go to this support group. She thinks I might like it better than therapy. I’m going to try going once every two weeks to meet with her, but I...I don’t know if therapy is right for me. I know you guys want me to go, but I’m just gonna try this group. Can you live with that?”

To my surprise, it was Violet who clapped my shoulder in an encouraging gesture. “Yes, Rose, we can live with that. We just want to make sure you’re talking to someone. You don’t really talk to us about this kinda stuff, and I know it’s shitty for you to keep it all in.”

“Woah,” I said, unable to stop myself from lightening the mood, “someone’s getting philosophical.”

She grabbed one of the throw pillows and hit me across the face with it.

“Now the next order of business,” Violet added, looking towards me, “what are you gonna do about Niall?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it? What was I going to do about Niall? “Lily you’re...you’re sure you don’t love him?”

“I never did love him, Rose. And I can assure you he never loved me. Nothing past how best friends love each other. If I did like him in that way, I can assure you it would have been squashed by the amount of times he talks about you when I’m with him.”

“He talks about me with you?”

Violet rolled her eyes. “How have you not noticed? The man doesn’t shut up about you.”

“I never noticed. Maybe I just didn’t want to notice, because the idea of liking Niall like that was off limits to me. I thought he was going to end up with Lily.”

“Well, do you think you could like him?” Lily asked.

I did think I could. I think there was always a small part of me that had, buried somewhere under the surface. It was why I always felt lighter around him, like the weight of the world transferred from my shoulders when he walked into a room. “I don’t know if I love him as much as he loves me. Not yet. And I don’t want to hurt him.”

“He’ll understand that, Rose. He sprung it on you. You just need to talk to him.”

But did he even want to talk to me? I hadn’t outright denied him, because he had left before I could process his confession, but I had hurt him. I had so carelessly uttered the words that unknowingly hit their target; he wasn’t my boyfriend. 

Lily’s phone buzzed from the coffee table, and we all stared at it. It was her ringtone for Niall, so there was no question about who it was that was calling her. She reached for it, answering it and bringing the phone up to her ear. It was so silent between the three of us that I was sure I could hear the trees shaking in the wind outside.

“Hey, Ni,” Lily said, looking towards me. “Yeah, she’s here. She spent the night at her apartment the past two nights.” She paused, listening to his response. “I’ll ask her.” Pulling the phone away from her ear, she put her hand over the speaker so she could whisper to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

I held my hand out for the phone. Violet leaned in to try and hear what Niall would say, but Lily slapped her arm and gestured for me to go into the other room. As I padded across the hardwood, I listened to Niall breathing on the other line. “Hey.”

“Thank Christ you’re alright. No matter how mad you are at me, please don’t ever leave without a word like that again, okay? You had Lily and I worried sick.”

I smiled a little at his worrying. “Alright, Mom, I’ll check in next time.”

He laughed, and the sound sent a trill of longing through me. The chuckles tapered off, though, leaving us in silence again. “And are you? Mad at me, I mean?”

“Niall, why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I pushed. I should have respected your boundaries. I was just so...fucking disgusted about what that asshole had done to you. I took it out on you, and I shouldn’t have.” I heard movement on the other end, and I could imagine him running his hand through his hair. “And then I sprung what I did on you—”

“Can I come over?” I interrupted.

“You...you wanna come over?”

“Yeah. I just think we should probably have this conversation in person.”

He took in a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay. You can come over.” It was impossible to miss the nerves in his voice.I could envision him standing in his living room, destroying the perfect hairstyle he’d constructed himself because he kept nervously tugging at it. “I’ll see you in a few, then.”

“See you in a few.”

I hung up the call and handed Lily’s phone back to her. Looking between her and Violet, they were both looking at me with questions in their eyes. They wanted to know what the hell was going on with Niall and I. But if I were being honest, I wasn’t really sure what was going to happen either. 

“Well...are you going to change? Because you look rough,” Violet said after a few quiet moments. Lily reached out to slap her arm again, but I oddly found myself grinning.

“Yeah, yeah I’m going to change. I’ll be right back.” I started walking to my room only to hear Violet shout something about me needing to look sexy, which resulted in a cut off grunt when Lily hit her with a pillow. 

Dressed in a white cropped top and red flared jeans (that made my butt look amazing, if I said so myself), I walked back out into the living room and let my sisters approve of the outfit. Lily was quick to toss my keys at me, promising that she’d drive Violet wherever she needed to go so I didn’t have to rush home. 

As the two of them sat on the couch and argued over whether or not I should wear a sweater, I was filled with affection for the both of them. I knew things wouldn’t change overnight, but seeing us hang out like this made my heart warm. “Hey,” I said softly, interrupting their bickering. “I just wanted to say thanks. For worrying about me. I...I know I might not show it much, but I love you guys.”

“Gross. Who are you and what have you done with Rose?” But Violet was smiling as she said it, rolling her eyes when Lily stood up and immediately hugged me. “Well now I just feel like a bitch if I don’t join in the group hug.”

Hugging Violet was a new experience. Of course, as her sister of twenty years, I’d hugged her before. But this felt different in a way I couldn’t explain. When we all pulled away, I flicked her in the forehead and laughed at her protest. 

“Now go and get your man! Your butt looks great in those jeans, by the way!”

I wasn’t really sure which sister had yelled it out to me, as I was already halfway out the door by the time it reached my ears. I hopped down the steps in front of Lily’s apartment, slid into my car, and drove the road to Niall’s place. As I loomed closer, my heart started pounding wildly in my chest. 

I knew there were consequences. What if I told him I wasn’t quite at love yet with him, and he rejected me because he’d spent too many years waiting? What if he realized, like I had, that I pushed people away and he decided it wasn’t worth it? 

My car slowed when I passed by his apartment, but my heartbeat didn’t. He was already waiting outside, standing on his porch in jeans and a light purple shirt that looked amazing on him, just as every piece of clothing he owned did. He was watching me with those incredible blue eyes, filled with wariness. 

“Hi,” I said breathlessly when I got out of my car and walked to meet him.

“Hi.” He frowned at my arms. “Christ, you cold? C’mon, I don’t want you to freeze.”

“I’m fine,” I said, but he wasn’t listening. He was fidgeting to try and get me inside, to prolong the inevitable. He led me to his couch and made sure I was comfortable before setting a little coffee cup in front of me. I swallowed, my breath catching in my throat when I saw the words written on the side.

I’m sorry, Rose.

“I am sorry. I know I probably ruined everything. I hurt you by demanding you go and see the therapist, and I handled the whole thing in such a rotten way. I’m just—”

I didn’t let him finish, leaning forward and throwing my arms around him. I pulled him close, impossibly close, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted him to sink into my skin and melt into my bones. “It’s not your fault, Niall. I don’t want you thinking that.”

His arms were slow to wrap around me, but when they did, his entire body relaxed in a sigh. And despite my worries, I knew that we were going to be okay. If we ended up something more, I would be ecstatic, but if we didn’t, I knew we would survive. We’d push through, just like we had with everything else. Because Niall Horan was not something I was willing to lose.

Still holding him in my arms, I pulled my face away from where it had tucked under his chin and briefly pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I can get over these feelings, Rose, I swear, but you’ve got to give me time.”

“What if I don’t want you to get over them?”

He drew me away from him, eyes wide as he stared at me to see if there was any hint of joking on my face. I didn’t know if he was satisfied with what he found, but I continued on.

“I like you, Niall. I’m not going to lie and say I’ve liked you as long as you have me, but I need you to know that it’s not one-sided. When you said you...you loved me...I was caught off guard, but I was never angry with you. I was angry with myself because I didn’t want to hurt you. And I did, even though it was the one thing I wanted to avoid more than anything. You always feel things so much, and I think that’s always scared me. I’m terrified because you love me, and I just don’t know if I’m there yet. These feelings for you are new and I’ve barely had time to adjust to them myself, and I don’t want to hurt you by not loving you as much as you love me. But I can, Niall. I can love you that much, I promise. You just have to let me try. You can’t give up on me. If you don’t want to, if this is too much work, I understand.”

He was silent for a moment. His eyes were on mine, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The color had always been beautiful to me, but now there was something else there. An emotion I realized was pure happiness. And then, feather light, his hand raised and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“But...you do have feelings for me?” I mutely nodded and was completely unprepared for the smile that grew on his face. “I’ve been waiting ten years to hear that you love me, Rose. I can wait a little longer.”

My nose wrinkled. “Don’t call me Rose. It feels weird. It’s Rosebud or nothing else.”

His laugh was loud and clear, the kind that I realized I had only heard around me. It was his Rose-laugh. “I can live with that.” Some of the mirth left his eyes, but he was still smiling at me. “Can I...can I kiss you?”

I grinned. “You don’t have to ask, Niall.”

“Yes, I do.”

I brought my hand up to his face and smoothed my hand over his cheek. “I know you do. And I really, really like you for it. Now shut up and kiss me, Horan.”

“If I’m not allowed to call you Rose, you are absolutely not allowed to call me Horan.” Before I could protest, his hands were on my cheeks and his lips were on mine.

I don’t think I ever thought about what kind of kisser Niall would be. Even in my little short fantasy at the antique store, I hadn’t really imagined what it would be like kissing Niall. I had just imagined that it would happen. However, as his lips slanted over mine, I was happy I hadn’t imagined it.

Nothing I could have thought up would ever hold up.

His hands were on either side of my face, his thumb running back and forth across my cheek. They moved to my neck, tipping my chin up and giving him better access to my mouth. His lips were smooth and soft, moving against mine lightly. But I didn’t want lightly. I wanted him to kiss me like he meant it. 

I moved my own hands to his hair, pulling him closer and leaning up on my knees on the couch. He let out a breathless laugh against my lips, his arms moving to wrap around my waist. My mouth pressed incessantly against his, never drawing too far away from him before he pulled me back. He ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, and the feel of it made me sigh out, so incredibly happy that I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“Did I mention,” he asked between nips and bites and licks, “that your arse looks great in those pants?”

“That’s what Violet said.” I continued kissing him, unwilling to stop. “And that was kind of the point.”

“It’s not really fair.”

I shrugged, pulling away long enough to press a kiss to his throat. He groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. “That was also kind of the point.”

“I mean, you’re killing me.”

“And you’re not getting it.” Another quick bite to his lower lip. A moment where his hands slid lower on my hips. “The point.”

He grinned sweetly, pulling away from my mouth. “You kill me no matter what you do, Rosebud.”

“How about when I accept the job offer? Do I kill you then?”

“You’re accepting it?” He laughed, wrapping his arms fully around my waist before standing from the couch. A rather unsexy squeal left my lips and I clamored against him, trying to hang on to his shoulders as my feet suddenly left the ground. “I’m happy for you, Rosebud. And yes, even then, you kill me.”

“I will legitimately kill you if you don’t put me down.”

“No can do, sorry. I just got you in my arms, I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Even though his words were incredibly cheesy, I couldn’t help but smile. “Dork.” 

The look on his face, the lightness in his eyes. I caused all of those things. I was the reason for them. The knowledge of this sent a thrill up my spine, and had me smiling softly at him, unable to resist reaching out and touching his chin, pulling him towards me for another mind numbing kiss. “Thank you for loving me, Niall.”

“It’s the easiest thing in the world, Rosebud. You know what won’t be easy though? Giving Violet her five hundred bucks.”

My eyes went wide. “You knew about the bet?!”

“Your family is very bad at keeping secrets. I reckon it worked out though, yeah?”

I stared at him, focusing on the happiness I felt. “Yeah, it worked out.”

He silenced my thoughts with another kiss.

[toevenexist]

The baby moves the entire night so she cant sleep and she’s really uncomfortable she can’t find a position to sleep and the next day at work she’s sleepy and tired and with pelvic pain and Link tells her to go to sleep but she doesn’t accept she’s tired

SWEETIE Pt.1

Hey Everybody! I’m baaaack. Here is PART 1 to this. Please be nice and reblog and review me pleeaassee I need to boost my writers ego, (boost it from nothing right now). 

I hope you enjoy this. Also a Reminder that somewhere in my writing universe Amelia was having twins (I think it should have happened in the show, THERE’S NO TWINS IN GREYS) so its twins here. 

Send me more ideas for part 2, 3...80 Link to Masterpost (Binge at your own risk)

Amelia hummed softly, defiantly screwing her eyes shut. She willed the babies to still, to quit dancing, quit testing the boundaries of her womb. She took in a deep breath and released it through pouted lips, cheeks puffed.  

She was coming to the end of her effort at testing the theory that if she was calm, and meditative, the babies would be too. She’d gradually decided it was the opposite for her offspring; drifting in and out of a light sleep, it had taken the last five hours for her to prove that. 

Without even resting her hands against her bump she could feel it contorting and morphing in shape with the movement of the twins. Amelia finally gave up, opening her eyes, staring off into the darkness in front of her. In the silence of the night she could hear the flutter of a lone moth’ wings against her window, and the rushing of the night air outside, cars hummed in the distance. 

She could hear Link next to her too, breathing softly, a quiet snore appearing and disappearing from his breath. When she focused on his presence behind her, an aching, swelling feeling of comfort and love swelled in her chest and she smiled in the dark. 

Normally when the babies were so active Link would help her. He’d rub her stomach and hips and sing for them, it would calm her in a way that she wasn’t able to do for herself, it seemed, no matter how much she tried. Tonight though, she thought he needed sleep more than she did. 

He’d come straight home following a nine and a half hour surgery, that ran his shift late by hours. So she was letting him sleep. She thought she should be able to settle herself, and them, on her own anyway. 

A cool breeze rolled in through the window and she closed her eyes again, stretching her legs out and rolling on to her back. She suppressed a groan and immediately rolled back onto her side, dropping her legs off the bed and pushing herself to sitting. She sat still for a moment, resting her hands against her sides, applying firm pressure and rubbing from her hips to her ribs. He realised she was clenching her jaw and relaxed it, tipping her face up to the ceiling. 

She stared into the fuzzy darkness of the room  and resigned herself to no sleep, and exhaustion tomorrow and rolled her eyes. She took in a deep breath, appreciating the smell of the fresh night air that had become near synonymous with the air in her room. A car alarm rang in the far distance, to her it was the volume of a whisper. 

Amelia stood slowly, curling her toes into the carpet beneath her. She pressed a hand into the ache in the small of her back and stepped up to the window, opening it wider.  A light wind draped against her like a cool shawl and rearranged the hair that framed her face. She hummed mellifluously in an out breath and tipped her face to the sky. 

Link stirred from sleep behind her and she heard the bed creak as he searched her out. “Amelia?” his voice was gravelly. Amelia remained still, though the twins were yet to wind down. “Yeah” Amelia said, pausing a moment and then turning her head to him. She could just make him out, leaning on his elbow, eyes glinting mutely with the light of the street. 

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” he said, sitting up, sleep ebbing away from him too. 

Amelia turned now, one hand holding on to the window sill, the other rest in the angle between her hip and the swell of her stomach. “They haven’t let me sleep” She admitted, setting herself back on the bed, melting with each hand that Link lay on her. “At all?”

“Some, but not much” she said, sighing, feeling suddenly exhausted but still as if she had two hamsters running in wheels inside her. She instantly felt guilty for comparing them to hamsters, but it was short lived as she pressed her face into Link’s chest and took in his smell. She let out an “mmmmnnnn” in pleasure and shivered, feeling her skin prickle as he chuckled. He continued to rub therapeutic spirals against her stomach. 

“Feel good?” 

Her answer was a sigh and a hum, she felt the movement inside her slow, as if the twins were settling cats, now walking in small circles before they curl up for sleep. 

“Why didn’t you wake me Amelia? You’re going to be dragging all day tomorrow” He said. Amelia just hummed again, too absorbed in the blissful sensation he was permitting. The world felt as if it were slowing down finally, she felt herself spacing out. He felt it happening too; felt the babies winding down, and felt all the strain and tension leave Amelia. 

She was still, and melded into his side, one warm hand loosely grasping his forearm. Her hot exhalations warmed the crook of his neck and he allowed for calm to envelop him again. He folded himself against her and held her. She felt heavy and soft in his arms and against his hands. He lay a firm kiss against her head, at the part of her hair and closed his eyes.

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

The sun was still asleep, but the sky showed signs of its waking. Amelia was asleep too. Link was lying on his side, he’d awoken a little while ago, feeling rested. The room was warm, Amelia liked it that way. During the night she’d always throw the duvet away from her, only her feet were tucked under it. Her t-shirt was twisted and wound around her, up against the underside of her breasts. Other than that she wore a pair of underwear, dappled grey.  

Link gazed at her. She was so relaxed, so peaceful. One arm was draped across her torso, her index finger twitched against her stomach. He watched as she stirred slightly, turning her head to face Link. She sighed in her sleep, splaying her hand and sliding it to rest against her lower stomach. She settled again, completely oblivious of the Link’s gaze, of his thoughts. 

Link smiled tightly, pursing his lips. He felt guilty knowing he’d be waking her in a few minutes. She grimaced slightly and rolled slowly onto her side facing him. Even asleep now, she didn’t seem to be fully comfortable. Link peered down at her stomach, the culprit in all this. He reached out and laid a hand against the exposed skin. There was stillness there now, he smiled. 

“Amelia…” Link spoke softly, a creeping whisper. He brought his hand to her face and rest it against her cheek, drawing a line down her nose and across her soft lips. “Amelia” 

She whined weakly, pouting. “Its half seven sweetie”

“Mnn sweetie” She contested the word, and Link grinned, moving his hand back to her waist, massaging her tired muscles. “Why are they sleeping now?” she moaned, feeling genuinely tearful. 

“They had a long night” Link said, raising his brow, smiling sympathetically. Amelia just whimpered, opening her eyes. “You want a tea? caffeinated?” Link said, tipping his head to the side, meeting her eyes. She frowned and nodded, “Yes please” 

“Okay, I’ll go make it, some toast too?”

“Yes please”

“You okay getting up?” he asked, knowing she’d be feeling rough. She hummed yes and rolled onto the back. He offered his hand anyway and helped her sit up, moving closer and stooping down to kiss her on the lips. He held her face between his hands and they locked eyes.

 “I’m sorry they stopped you sleeping, but you’re doing amazing,” He said. Amelia smiled weakly and leaned into one of his hands, sighing. 

“Thanks” she said. 

“Alright, I’ll be back in a bit, or do you want to just come down for it?” 

“I’ll come down” 

“Okay”, he said, kissing her quickly again before leaving. 

Amelia huffed, standing up shakily, feeling her muscle protest and an ache set in in her pelvis. 

It took her a little longer than usual to get ready, so much that Link came up to check on her. He poked his head around the corner, finding her slipping on her shoes, holding on to the chest of draws. 

“Alright?” he said and she smiled, forcefully, trying to deceive herself of the utter fatigue she was feeling. Link thought to say she looked beautiful, because he always thought she was, but he didn’t, deciding it was the last thing she’d want to hear. 

She was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a plaid shirt that hung loosely on her. Her smile faded and she became more vacant as she made her way to the door. “Are you okay? You hurting?”

“Uuumm… I guess” she forced some cheerfulness into her voice as she walked ahead of him down the stairs. But her pace descending was a giveaway at the discomfort she was in. 

“I’m okay... I’m okay, I got this” she said, reaching the bottom of the stairs, eyeing him at the top of them, nodding meeting his eyes, wanting to reassure him. Heading for the kitchen she found Maggie sat at the table, who nudged Amelia’s tea towards her as she entered. 

Amelia took a sip and hummed her delight, closing her eyes. She quickly opened them, realising how good it felt to shut her eyes, and how much she’d like to go back to bed. She decided too to stay standing, hesitant to let herself rest, worried the stopping and starting would make her pelvic cramping worse. She downed her tea, sighing. 

“I heard you had a rough night?” Maggie said, standing up and taking Amelia’s empty mug. 

“Yup… it’s fine, I just need to get going…” Amelia said, arching her back and rolling her shoulders back. Link bustled in then, arranging his bag on his shoulder, and dropping his jacket into a chair. 

“Take it easy maybe Amelia” Maggie said, nodding, resting her hand on Amelia’s shoulder, Amelia met her eyes. Maggie stood before her, looking equally exhausted having just finished a night shift. 

“I will” Amelia said, nodding, unsure at how she was going to balance her day with what she felt she needed, which was twelve hours of sleep. She laughed a little.

Maggie grinned, seeing that resilience in Amelia’s eyes. She leaned down so her face was close to Amelia’s bump, uttering “naughty babies”.  Link chuckled, folding his arms. 

Standing sharply, Maggie took in a breath, “Right, have a good day, I’m going to bed” She said, waving as she headed for her room. 

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

In the car Amelia sat rigid, with restless legs, and hands that gripped her bouncing knees. She yawned for the third time and rubbed her face, widening her eyes. 

“Amelia? Are you sure you’re okay to work?”

“I’m okay Link, I slept some and I feel okay”

“Amelia, promise me you’re not going to push yourself today?”

“Link…” Amelia sighed, dropping her head against the headrest. She didn’t want to promise she wouldn’t do something that she was already doing. She was already pushing herself and had been the moment she’d pushed herself up out of bed. 

“Amelia” He tried to reason. 

“Link, truth is I’m pushing myself now, I’m exhausted and I’m hurting... But link” she shifted in her seat, sitting up. “I’m 7 months pregnant, I’m tired all the time, and I need to do my job”

“Amelia, I get that but you need too…”

“Link, don’t tell me what I need to do okay, I know, I’m a grown woman” she said, raising her voice. She flushed hot, her temper crackling like a fire inside her. ‘God I’m tired’ she thought, in an internal sigh that dragged her eyes closed. Link had stopped speaking, sensing her patience dwindling.

 “I’m sorry” she mumbled, slow blinking and clasping her hands together in her lap.   

“It’s okay” Link said, pursing his lips, eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

Amelia took a lengthy breath and peered down at herself. Her last pregnancy had been taxing in a completely different way. As they pulled into the hospital parking lot she held her stomach, looking down at the curve, and reminded herself that beneath her hands, were two healthy babies. At the end of all the pain and strain and tiredness, she’d have two babies, living and breathing in her arms. 

She hadn’t realised they were parked till Link’s hand came into view, resting and caressing her thigh. She looked up, finding his gaze. He smiled a warm, and grateful smile; o warm, she felt it sooth her. 

“I am your servant today, wherever I can be” 

“My slave” Amelia chuckled heartily, a lightness gracing her.

“Haha sure, I’m indebted to you for this” he said, resting his hand against her stomach.

“You sure are… you can carry any future babies, all eight of them” 

Link’s brows rose at that and he smiled toothily. “Eight? Why not ten, take it to a dozen”

“Well it’s your vagina Link” Amelia said, nonchalantly, opening her door and turning, smirking. 

“Wait don’t move…” Link said, opening his door and making his way around to her side.

“I’ll wait for slave” Amelia said, dramatically throwing herself against the back of her chair in despair. 

“Okay, come on” he said, offering his hand.

“All joke’s aside Link I do appreciate your help” Amelia said, taking his hand and standing up, turning her face away to hide the discomfort she felt grow the moment she was up. She let Link collect all their things, walking with him, and stretching and arching her back before they headed across to the hospital.

Tbc.  Thanks for reading! Please reblog and review xxx

[kiritella]

A New Maybe [4]

Pairings Bucky x Anna(rmc), Bucky x teen!reader(plc), Anna x teen!reader(plc)

Words: 4.9k-ish

Warnings: Implied worry about rape, angst ahead fellows, beware.

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

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

The day had started fine.  You woke up, had breakfast, listened to your mom talk about Bucky coming over for a little while later that day, promised her you would give him a chance, then you were off to school.  Class was boring, being force-fed information wasn’t exactly your idea of a fun time after all, but it was fine.  It was normal. 

Except for the lingering hesitation and tension between you, Katie, and Samantha. 

It was thicker than you expected and despite Jason trying to ease it, it still clung to you and sent a sick, twisting into your gut and it only seemed to get worse as the school day ended.

And so it is, as you walk out of the building with the group, Jason already sent along his noisy way home on his fateful yellow and black carriage and Timothy sticking closer to the back like a shadow, Katie suddenly stops and offers Samantha a look, one of regret, and you have to swallow the fear bubbling up in your throat and catching the little bit of hope in your chest.

“So, we didn’t know how to tell you…” Katie starts, her twin picking up after her as they both turn to face you, their brown hair pulled back making them look ever-more like each other.

“We wanted to wait until the day was over so it wouldn’t be as awkward.”

“And for Jason to leave because he would probably kill us,” Katie adds, “But…”

“We talked to our parents last night and might have mentioned that your mom is dating Bucky, and they didn’t exactly take it as well as they could have…” Samantha said in a rush, her eyes darting everywhere but to yours.

Katie’s eyes hold sympathy, pity, regret, things you hate seeing because it always means something bad is coming out of the darkness to bite you and today is no exception.

“They said we have to…separate ourselves…from you.  They don’t want us to have any connections to Mr. Barnes and you—your mom is dating him and…” Katie trails off and the hollow pit in your stomach swells.  It encapsulates you, swallows you into a void of silence, and yet it’s so fucking loud.

Your response is simple, calculated, and cold, void of every sinking and aching emotion that is running through your veins like sharp crystals of ice, “I understand.”

Samantha takes a step forward, “We don’t want to.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Katie adds, and you swear you hear her voice crack.  As you look at Samantha, you finally see the well of tears she’s holding back and your face softens from the stiff collection it has forced itself into.

You nod before quickly shaking your head, rushing forward to the two girls and wrapping an arm around each of them and they cling to you almost just as tightly as you hold them...almost.  The burning behind your eyes is forced down along with the anger simmering beneath the sadness, knowing full well the collection of the two will do more harm than good.  After all, neither party likes this new arrangement.

When the moment passes, both Katie and Sam let go and it tears a piece of you apart.  Something breaks, something important.  Goodbyes are said, tearful ones on Samantha’s part...she always was one to be more emotional, it was what made her, her, and you admire it.  As for Katie, there are tight smiles, a stiff nod of the head, and a hug that squeezes the breath from your lungs, as if there is any left in them anymore.  At the last moment they could steal from the cold hands of fate, they board their bus, and with the final wave farewell, the string tying you to them is cut.

And you crack.

Teeth bite into your lip to stop its quivering, lungs become too tight, too shallow, and the ground beneath you shakes and yet you can’t seem to fall, not yet.  A firm hand on your shoulder startles you and you spin around to find Timothy with sympathy written along his features and your gut wrenches.

“Are you okay?” Timothy asks, his voice low and quiet as people walk by, and you nod. 

“I’m fine.”

“Y.n—” he starts, the glass coat of your eyes sending worry shooting through his chest and clouding his mind.

“I said I’m fine,” you say sharply and notice your bus, taking a step back and letting Timothy’s hand fall off your shoulder, and he watches as you walk away with a stain of tears tainting your eyes.

“Shit,” he mutters and quickly pulls out his phone and calling a long-since familiar number, placing it to his ear as he sees you climb into your bus and he makes his way to his own.

“Hey, Tim, what’s up?”

“Katie and Sam ended their friendship with Y.n,” Timothy says, leaving no room for pleasantries as he takes a seat in the back of the bus.

“What?!” Jason shouts from the other end of the line causing Tim to pull it away from his ear a moment.

“Fuck, man, don’t shout,” he snaps, “Gonna blow my eardrums like that.”

“Where is she?  Are you with her?”

“No, she left for her bus.  She’s not taking it too well.”

“What the hell got them to end things?”

“Something about their parents, you know how the Straltons are about Barnes,” Timothy starts, “Point is, you need to talk to y.n.  I’m pretty sure something snapped.”

---

Everything is mute.

The entire bus ride to your stop, everything is blank and mute.  People’s lips are moving, but you’re sure they aren’t saying anything, or perhaps they are?  The fire behind your eyes sears your skin and begs to be set free, but not yet.

You can’t fall yet.

The lump pressing on the base of your throat has hit a painful peak, and you’re so close to letting it out, but there are too many people around, too many kids who already judge you and poke fun.  The only thing you are holding on to is the thought of your mom wrapping her arms around you and letting you shatter, knowing she will piece you back together like she always has.  To let you break and tell you it’ll be alright.  Just her and you, like it’s always been. 

Her words.

Her warmth.

Her gentleness.

Her ability to hold you together when everything is falling apart.

When you arrive at your bus stop, you rush home.  Each step as hollow as the previous one as the ache in your chest begins to swallow you and carve a deeper hole for its nest. 

The door swings open silently and with the first step inside, a tear slips from your grasp and falls down your cheek, splitting your world in two.  You drop your backpack by the door and toss your phone onto the side table beside the couch, your lips parting to speak when your entire world freezes with the sound of laughter.  Peeking around the corner into the kitchen, the walls start to cave in, the world tilts and never has anything isolated you more than the scene before you and nothing stops the tears from flowing freely across your face. 

Shrieks of laughter fill your ears as Bucky cages your mom against the counter and tickles her sides, her smile lighting up brighter than anything you’ve seen in the last seven years and you’re positive the pure joy on Bucky’s face could never be faked.  And you stand there, praying for two things: that they will turn around and see you with tears streaming down your face so you can finally fall apart, and then, you pray they don’t.

You’re not sure when you left the apartment or how you made it down the stairs, but now you stand at the street with the complex behind you, the air you breathe choking you.  Sobs burn in your throat and heave your chest as pain rips through your heart and radiates through your body, and it’s too much. 

It’s all too much.

You walk away, but each step is faster than the one before, gaining speed until you are running.  Buildings pass by, streets, cars blaring their horns, but you don’t care, you don’t hear them.  You don’t see the people you brush pass, the lights, the close calls that would terrify your mother.  You don’t see anything, but you feel everything.

The burning in your lungs, the ache in your muscles, the fire burning behind your eyes as the world blurs with the tears and cascades to the cold cement beneath your feet.  And it helps.  It helps the pain, the memories.  It reduces aching in your chest into something you can bear.  However, it does nothing to the fear you’ve buried. It bursts from its bottle, the cork flying off with the pressure and cracking your resolve as the bubbles of all the things you’ve pushed aside spill from the glass.  It erupts and lava spills into your veins, burning them, melting the ice shards living there and instead hollows out every nerve in the area, effectively sending you into panic.  So you keep running, hoping it will cool the utter terror taking hold of your bones.

You run and run until there is nothing left, and you collapse.  Your knees scrape against the pavement of an ally in an unfamiliar part of town.  It’s filthy, but you can’t find it in you to care.  

You’re alone.

You’re alone, and you break.

You’re alone.

You’re alone, and no one is there to pick up the pieces.

---

Anna and Bucky are sitting on the couch playing a game of rummy when a knock on the door interrupts.  

Anna’s eyes narrow at Bucky as she sets down her cards and stands, “Don’t you dare cheat, I’ll send my minions after you.”

Bucky chuckles and throws his hands up in the air innocently, “Wouldn’t dream of it, despite the fact your ‘minions’ are fictional.”

Anna gasps playfully as she approaches the door, “You won’t be saying that when they cut holes in every pair of socks and underwear you own.”

Bucky shakes his head with a smile as Anna opens the door, the smile on her face wavering slightly as she sees the young gentleman before her, his eyes filled with worry and hair seeming like he’s been running his fingers through it for some time now.

“Jason,” Anna says and steps to the side to let him in, “Is everything alright?”

“Hey, I was wanting to check on Y.n,” Jason says respectfully as he steps inside, “She isn’t answering my calls and after today, I was getting worried.”

Anna’s face twists into confusion as she glances back at the clock, “She isn’t home yet.  She should’ve been back by now—Wait, after today?  What do you mean after today?” she asks and worry tints in her tone as Bucky stands from his seat and walks over.

Jason’s face pales slightly, his fingers running through his hair and tugging, “Katie and Sam ended their friendship with her.  She’s not here?” he asks, his heart sinking as he knows the answer, but he can’t help the question from spilling.

Anna shakes her head just as Bucky speaks, “Isn’t this her backpack?” he asks and walks to the door, picking up said item and showing the others and Anna’s eyes widen before she turns around and walks down the hall to the bedrooms.

“Y.n?” she calls as the other two men follow after her, her voice rising when she doesn’t get a response and she opens your bedroom door to find the room empty, “Y.n?” 

Bucky checks the bathroom as Jason picks up his phone again and dials your number, freezing slightly as he hears vibrations on the coffee table and he picks up your phone, a ridiculous photo of him sticking out his tongue at you lit up on your screen as it buzzes in his hands.  Both Anna and Bucky look with wide eyes as Jason shows them your phone, a heavy, sinking weight pressing on the room.

“How didn’t we hear her?” Anna starts frantically as she struggles to get into her shoes and tying her hair back

“Why did she just up and leave without saying anything?!” Bucky adds as he snatches his keys off the counter, tossing Anna hers.

“She’s hurting,” Jason says before offering Anna a wary look and she is confused for a moment, but only a single one before it finally clicks, and with the thought, her heart drops and she looks at Bucky.  The struggle ties around her heart and swims in her eyes as she takes in what is actually happening.

“You were here, she couldn’t break down.  She didn’t want you to see her like that,” Anna says like it is any bit helpful and Bucky’s shoulders slump, the frown already etched on his face carving a little deeper and he shakes his head.

“So she just runs off?”  Bucky tries to reason under the weight on his chest, “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Y.n has always had a lot of trouble opening up to people,” Jason starts, “But it is harder with you because you’re actually trying.”

“Now that doesn’t make any sense!” Bucky throws his hands up and Anna looks at Jason quizzically.

“Why does that make things harder?” she asks.

“Because as far as she’s told me, Mr. Barnes actually cares and she’s terrified of it,” Jason tries to explain only to be met by two very confused adults.

“Last time I checked, caring was a good thing,” Bucky says.

“It is,” Jason says emphatically, struggling to explain without dumping too many of your secrets, “Look, she’s been abandoned by her father and every man that has ever come into her life.  She got attached to people only to watch them leave her, so over the years she built up a bunch of walls, one of which keeps her from wanting to get attached to people, especially if she likes them to avoid getting hurt.”

The room is silent, a drop on the roof would have been as loud as a gunshot at this point and Anna rubs her neck as Bucky stares intensely at his shoes.  It is heavy and thick, emotions running high and it is Jason who breaks the tension.

“I hate to interrupt this silence of realization, but can we go look for her now?” Jason asks, respect still underlying in his tone, but the worry and desperation lining the outskirts and Anna nods, being brought back from her thoughts as she follows Bucky out the front door, Jason following just a step behind.

“Jason and I will check Lecter’s coffee shop, the library, and the arcade,” Anna says, “Bucky can you check ‘Read it and Leave it’ comics store across town and the Rosehill park?”

Bucky nods, wringing his keys around his fingers, “Yeah, call me if you find her.”

Anna nods and the group parts ways out in the parking lot and for the next hour, there’s nothing, no trace of you, no one has seen you.  Jason has been on the phone with your friends, and to Anna’s unwelcome surprise, there aren’t as many as she thought there were.  It sends an ache through her chest to acknowledge she doesn’t know as much about your personal life as she thought, a chill warping her skin unpleasantly as she drives to the next location.  She knows you aren’t completely open to everyone and you have a thicker shell than most, but she didn’t realize how much of it was driven by fear.  Another thought that sinks in her mind, is how Jason said you were abandoned by every man that comes into your life.  She never understood how much of an effect it had on you when she brought someone home for you to meet.  She thought she was sharing a piece of her life with you for you to join, she never knew just how deeply your heart was invested in it, and perhaps it is her fault for not noticing all the signs.  Perhaps there was more she could have done to help ease your heart, but she was too caught up in her own to realize the damage she was causing along the way.

Bucky, however, pulls into the parking lot of a comic book library thing Anna said you like, “Read it and Leave it” written on the glass window in front of the building, but as he searches every isle, he ends up with nothing.  His steps are heavy as he approaches the front desk, digging in his wallet for one of his photographs, pulling out one of his favorites and showing the man behind the counter.

“Have you seen her today?” Bucky asks and the man looks up from his computer.

“Oh, Y.n? Yeah, she came in a couple hours ago, looked around a bit, didn’t check anything out though,” he answers and Bucky lights up instantly.

“Did she say where she was going?”

The man shakes his head, “No, but she wasn’t looking too good, her eyes were really puffy and red, it’s like she was mindlessly walking around.”

Bucky nods and thanks the man as he rushes out and climbs into his car, texting Anna an update before pulling out and driving around the area.  Hope slowly dwindles as he continues to drive around, stopping at small shops here and there that look like you could be inside but to no avail, and at this point, he decides he won’t find you here and starts to drive back to the apartment since he already checked the park.

The sun is gone as Bucky is halfway back, and his worry starts to etch deeper and deeper in his chest and his fingers dig deeper into his steering wheel as his gut twists.  You are missing, no phone, not with friends, in New York, at night, and according to the people around you, you’re in a distraught state.  His chest tightens at the thought of something happening, bile running up his throat to offer a bitter taste on his tongue at the thought of someone laying a finger on you when they shouldn’t.  His brain starts running different scenarios and each one makes him sick, and he hopes to everything pure to hear from you soon.  Your laugh echoes in his head, the way your lips turn up into a crooked smile when you are teasing, the glimpses he’s seen of you when you accidentally let your guard down, and he cracks at the thought of something taking that away.

Bucky grabs his phone from the dash and pulls up his contacts, tapping “Birdy” with a tweety bird emoji and putting it on speaker.  A familiar face pops up a moment later, Sam Wilson sitting on his bed, sporting his classic ‘leave me alone’ face.

“Bucky, you’re interrupting my social time,” Sam says, but it is lighthearted and holds no malice.

“To what? Preen and coo to your feathers?  We both know your social life is as good as mine, aka: nonexistent,” Bucky teases as he keeps his eyes on the road and sidewalks and Sam rolls his eyes, reaching out to end the call.

“Whatever, at least I try to have one, but if all you’re gonna do is tease me, I’ll let you—“

“Wait!” Bucky cries and Sam freezes at the frantic nature of his voice, pulling back and looking at him curiously, “Y.n’s missing.  I don’t know if something’s wrong, but she’s gone and she doesn’t have her phone and it’s getting dark—”

Sam instantly sits up straighter and throws his feet over the edge of the bed, “Woah, woah, okay, what do you need?”

“Anna and I are out looking for her, but an extra pair—“ 

The car screeches to a halt as Bucky slams on his breaks, much to the annoyance of the people behind him and he pulls into the parking spot on the side of the road.  

“What’s wrong?” Sam calls even though his face is now hidden by the passenger side seat.

Bucky picks up the phone as he unbuckles, “I found her,” is his simple reply before he hangs up, shuts off the engine, and jumps out of his car, racing to where you are sitting with your back against the wall of an ally, a filthy one he might add. 

He falls to his knees beside you as he hears a sob spill from your lips and dread seeps into his blood and captivates him as he pulls your hands from your face, “Oh God, no.”

The movement startles you up, your eyes wide and searching before they find Bucky’s frantic ones and it takes a moment to realize he’s talking and everything suddenly jerks back into reality, the tears warm against your cold cheeks, your shaking hands, the press of your knees against your chest, and the warmth in Bucky’s hands as he grips your arms, and you remember: he’s talking to you.

“Y.n!” Bucky shouts again, shaking you slightly and it calls you back from the depths of your haunting mind and you sputter.

“Bucky?”

“What happened?  Are you—did someone—did someone—“ he can’t say the words, can’t speak them into existence, but the fear coursing through his veins at the sight of you so frail, broken, curled up against a wall in an alleyway has his mind going to dark places as he looks you over, again and again.  His heart is just about to give in when you shake your head.

“No.  I’m fine, Bucky,” you say and brush your hands over your cheeks, wiping away the tears despite the deep ache in your chest and the lump still pressing in your throat.

Your body yanks forward and you crash against Bucky’s chest, his arms strapping around you tightly and your eyes widen with shock as you stiffen, but he doesn’t let go, instead, his grip tightens and you let yourself melt.  For just this once, you allow yourself to seek his embrace, knowing you’ll criticize yourself for it later, but not really giving a shit at the moment.

Bucky’s hand cradles the back of your head and holds you close, his breath quick against your neck as his heart returns to its normal pace, the anxiety calming, “You're okay, you’re safe,” he mutters, but it sounds like a mantra to himself rather than you, “You’re okay.”

Despite the awkward position you are in, with your knees curled against your chest with Bucky keeping you sealed against him, you feel secure.  With the exhaustion of crying, of trying to stay together while you are sinking into an abyss, it’s nice for someone to just hold you, and even if Bucky is speaking to himself when he tells you that you are alright, it settles the pain whittling off pieces of your heart and you hate it.  You hate how it is calming every nerve firing in your brain, hate how Bucky is warm and how his arms around you are tight and secure, like he’s never going to let go.  You hate the way he was so worried, the way he was frantically searching you to find if something bad had happened, if you were hurt.  You hate the way he cares.

You hate it.  

You hate it.

You hate it because you don’t.

Bucky holds you a little while longer and you simply rest your head against his shoulder, no words spoken except for gentle encouragements whispered in your ear, and you refuse to acknowledge the tears that fall and stain his shirt a darker shade of grey.  However, the cold hits your skin as Bucky releases his grip and sits back, his steel-blue eyes searching your blank ones and his stomach twists at the sadness underneath them.  

“You can’t run off like that,” he says, but it lacks authority or even judgment, only concern and you hate it, “You left your phone, scared your mom shitless.”

Your voice is cracked as you speak, worn from the sobs that wracked your chest when you first ran off into nowhere, the cries that caused a few worried passerbys, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t think straight and…” you trail off, too exhausted to worry about your ‘natural’ filter.

Bucky watches you a moment then takes your hand, standing to his feet and helping you to yours, “C’mon, let’s get you off this nasty ground,” he mutters before leading you back to his car, handing you his phone once you both get seated and he starts to pull out into the street, “Gotta call your mom and tell her you’re alright.”

You nod and dial your mother’s number, her worried voice answering on the second ring and starting instantly, “Bucky, I can’t find her.  She isn’t anywhere and it’s dark.  What if—”

“Mom, mom, mom,” you cut her off, “It’s me.”

“Y.n?”

“Yeah, I’m alright, Bucky found me.”

“And you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say and there is a slight pause on the line.

“Then what the hell were you thinking?!” Anna shouts into the microphone and you pull the phone away from your ear slightly with a cringe, “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?!  Running off like that?  It’s New York, Y.n, it’s dark, you didn’t even fucking call me to tell me you were okay!  There is something called a payphone you could’ve used since you up and left yours at home, where, by the way, you could’ve just talked to me instead of disappearing.  Jason had to come over and tell us about your friends, I was worried sick!  You scared the shit out of me...”

The rant lasts for another minute or two and you listen with your head pressed against the window, sneaking a glance at Bucky who has the slightest smile on his face, the volume of your mom shouting combined with his enhanced hearing tells you he knows exactly what she is saying.  The slight twitch of your lips can’t be helped and only after you reassure your mom that you are okay and will be home soon does she allow you to hang up.

A few minutes before you arrive back at the apartment, Bucky breaks the odd silence, “You really scared us.”

The weight of your head pulls downward as you stare at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers as you respond, “I know, I am sorry about that.”

“I know you are, just—” Bucky hesitates, “I know you don’t like me very much, but you do have a say in things—I know you don’t really want me involved in your personal life, just...next time say something.”

Bucky offers you a glance to find your guilt stricken face and you turn away from him, “I don’t not like you,” you say with a small, teasing voice and a tight smile makes its way to Bucky’s lips.

“Well at least it’s something,” Bucky says and your chest twinges slightly at the amount of seriousness in his tone, your mother’s words resurfacing from the night before: he thinks you hate him.  Maybe you do, maybe you don’t, but you certainly don’t want him to leave.

Your lip stings as you nip at the skin, wringing your fingers tightly in your hands, “I’m serious though, I don’t not like you.  It’s just...weird,” you manage to mutter off, your voice quiet and soft, a shy side Bucky has yet to see and he smiles gently.

“I’d like to get that up to at least an ‘I can tolerate your presence’,” Bucky says hesitantly, “If you’ll let me.”

The question is met with silence and you look away, staring at the city passing by until Bucky pulls into the parking space of your apartment complex, turning off the engine and he fiddles with his keys a moment, his shoulders slumped. The tension is thick and you swallow the cocktail of emotions swirling in your chest as he reaches for the handle with a defeated collection on his face you suddenly find yourself hating.

“How about you show me that ice cream place you told me about?” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth laced in anxiety and an openly fearful expression and Bucky’s disappointment is quickly replaced with excitement.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you affirm and Bucky beams brighter than you knew was possible for him.  Or maybe it’s just the first time it’s been directed toward you…

“Let’s get inside,” Bucky says and you nod, “You’ve got a couple people that would like to see ya.”

And as if on cue, your mother swings open your car door and practically drags you out of your seat and into a hug as you squeak in surprise, Jason right behind her with a relieved look on his clearly disheveled face.  And then your mom starts telling you exactly how stupid it had been to run off like that, again, and you smile, letting her drag you into the apartment and lecture you until she exhausts herself and hugs you tightly.  Things are still messed up.  Your chest still aches, the scars too new, too painful to simply vanish.  The walls are still built around you like a fortress, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to put a window in...

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

Taglist: [Closed]

@afictionaladventure16 @coffee-habit @angryknightstatesmantrash @chloe-skywalker @klanceiscannon14 @purplekitten30​@endgameendsme

Forever Tags: Just ask if you wanna be added!

@thelovelydreamer17  @snarky--starky

[freetobcubed]

For Louis

I wrote this story for a competition. Not even an honorable mention, which I’ll be honest, is a stab in the heart because I really poured my soul into this one. Better luck next time, I guess, but here’s the story:

The notebook’s small and faded. The little thing is speckled with dust and the spine is bent to a near-ninety-degree angle except where it’s belted shut with a shoelace. I shouldn’t care; there are real books in the yard sale, books that aren’t falling apart. But I’m curious. Why bother to keep basically scraps?

I throw the thing on top of my pile of books. The eighty cents will come from the money I’ll make selling the others online. I pay for my loot and load it into the trunk of my ’93 Pontiac. I stop, snag the notebook, and tuck it into my coat with my COVID mask.

On my drive home, I get stopped at this intersection that’s seen an accident. Annoyed, but with nowhere to be, I throw the car in park and pull the little black book out. I try the knot in the shoelace with my fingernails before realizing it’s just loose enough to slide off.

Twelve hundred-dollar bills kerflumph into my lap.

I choke. My mind spins as I cough; what in the world? That’s a grand. Where—do I have to return it? How—

No, I don’t have to return it, I reason as I finish spluttering. Nervously, subconsciously, I glance at the cops in the intersection. They aren’t even aware that I exist. Besides, I paid for the notebook. It’s not my fault that that girl didn’t know.

Feeling slightly better, I open the notebook. Three more hundred-dollar bills fall out.

No way.

I flip the notebook around. Peeking out between stained pages are more bills. One per page. I do a quick calculation in my head.

“That’s twenty thousand dollars,” I say aloud, stupefied. That’s insane. Thoughts tumble through my head: riding in an airplane to Europe. Paying my overdue rent. Do I have to pay taxes on this? Amazon, and the things I saved there for “someday.” A full cart at Walmart.

Unsure what else to do, I start to read.

“June 9, 1983

Today I am a dad. I’m a dad! Louis is so small, so perfect, so… what do you say about a baby? It’s all been said before. But this is my baby. My son. He has tiny toes and he eats until it hurts Marie (and then some.) I’m looking forward to playing catch and eating burgers together, and then I stare down at the blanket-bundle and tears fill my eyes because he’s here, he’s real, and he is mine. Ours. Marie’s and mine. My boy. My son.”

“Hey!” I glance up, the words of the book and the words of the cop waving me forward blending in my brain because twenty thousand dollars is still swirling around up there too. I put the Pontiac in drive, my left hand trying to cover the fortune in my lap just in case the officer looks through the window.

I race home. I stuff the bills in my pocket, worrying about neighbors. I try to walk normally, but I feel shifty. Nervous. I run through my crappy apartment, then dump the money onto my bed, triple-checking that I’ve gotten every bit out of my pockets.

Then I flip the book, pinching the spine, and wag the pages.

A rain of cash descends to the quilt Mom made for me. Mom. Mom could use a hundred bucks. I suppress the generosity. This money is mine now, and I definitely need it. Mom will be okay.

I’m tired. I climb into the unmade bed, careful not to knock the bills onto the floor where they could vanish under the bed or the laundry, and I read again.

“July 4, 1983

Louis’ first Independence Day. He doesn’t care, except when the neighbors set off fireworks that woke him. I’m not sure if the baby or Marie was more upset, but Louis screamed more. I decided this journal is for when he graduates high school; I put a hundred dollars in the back. It’s more than we can afford, but this is our son. And I can always take the money back out, I guess. I just wanted to say: I love you, son. I’m already proud of you, and you’re just a little lump on the floor.”

Something in me twitches. I don’t think my father ever said he was proud of me, even when I was—what was it? I glance back at the page. A little lump.

“December 25, 1983

It’s been a little while since I wrote for you, son. Work has been… insane. You’re rolling now. I saved another hundred for you, tucked it in the back with the other one. I’m sorry you’re not getting much this Christmas, but we’re doing our best, and as your mom points out, you don’t care. Not this year.

January 1, 1984

Happy New Year, Louis!

You’re almost seven months old. Hard to believe. You’re nearly ready to sit on your own, and even better—your mom is getting past the baby blues. It’s nice to get my wife back. Don’t feel bad, son, but it’s been hard. I always said I wanted two kids, but now I hope you’re okay with being an only child.

If I could convince you to sleep, that would be something—though it’s nice to cuddle you in the rocking chair at night. Your mom gets you most of the time—boy, you eat a lot!—but after you’re done, I take you and we rock. Sometimes I sing. You won’t remember me singing, because I don’t do it where adults can hear, but for now, you seem to like Dad’s rusty voice. Who knows? Maybe you’re knocking yourself out so you don’t have to listen anymore. I‘d understand.”

My phone rings, and I jump, searching around for it with one hand.

“Hello?”

“Tim? It’s Grandma.” I know. But telling Grandma that won’t keep her from identifying herself on the phone or signing her texts.

“Hi,” I respond, unsure what Grandma wants.

“Are you going to come change my lightbulbs today?”

Crap. I was. Mom has been haranguing me to help Grandma, guilting me with the idea of an old lady living alone, in quarantine, in the dark. Stupid COVID—normally, Grandma’s neighbors change the lightbulbs and stuff, but she’s been insisting to Mom that I need to do it now. As if a pizza delivery guy has less germs than her work-from-home neighbor. Whatever.

“Sorry, Grandma.” I find my keys. “I’ll be over in half an hour.”

“What, dear?”

“I’ll be over in half an hour!” I all but shout into the phone. Then I hang up before she can babble at me. I look at the money; my room is private, but my roommate is nosy. I go to the kitchen and, after hunting in the cupboard, come up with an almost-empty bread bag. I hurry back to my room, eating the last slice, and stuff the money inside.

Bring it or hide it? I consider for a minute. Finally I throw the bag and the notebook into my pocket.

I climb into my car. Grandma’s house is ten minutes away and I have twenty—oops. I pull out the notebook. Suddenly, it hits me—the money was still inside. What happened to Louis? How did the yard sale lady end up with the notebook, and the twenty grand?

I check the inside front cover, find an address. Finch Drive isn’t even that far away--I verify with my GPS.

I don’t even know what I’m hoping. It’s been, what, almost forty years since Louis was born? I open the notebook again, this time to the last page.

“February 18, 1999

I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry I’m going to miss so much. Your high school graduation. Your college graduation. Your wedding, your children. I was excited. I think you were too.

And you won’t really remember who I was. I mean, we have a lot of great memories together. Lots of catch and burgers. But we’ll never have an adult-to-adult relationship, and I’m really, really sad about that.

In a selfish way, I hope you’re sad too. I hope you miss me. Is that terrible? Anyway, I guess the best I can do is leave you with some advice.

Be a good person, Louis. You’re a good kid. Take care of your mom. Heck, take care of my mom. Be smart. Be hardworking. But most of all, be kind.

I love you, kid.

-Dad

P.S. Cancer is the pits.”

I stare at the last few words. “Cancer is the pits.”

I can’t do it. I can’t leave Louis hanging. I turn the car on, head to Finch Drive. Knock.

A lady answers. She’s 60-something.

“Are you Marie? I’m sorry—I totally forgot my mask.”

“Yes, I’m Marie.”

She’s puzzled, I can see it in the top half of her face, the only part showing. Funny, I thought somehow that she‘d be blonde, like Mom.

“I found this,” I say, holding out the journal. “It belongs to Louis. From his dad.”

She gasps as she looks down, and a tear splatters onto the cover. One more spot among dozens.

“I—how—”

“And, um,” I’m not sure how to explain, so I pull the bread bag out. “This was in the pages. It’s for you. Or, for Louis.

“Is he okay? Louis?”

She nods mutely, her shaking hand moving up to take the little black notebook. She doesn’t even look at the money, just stares at the book. I realize I never replaced the shoelace.

“He’s actually here.” She turns. “Louis!” A guy pops out a second later. His hair is dark and messy, like Harry Potter’s.

“You okay, Mom?” He asks. She nods. He squints at me, like he’s trying to decide if I made his mom cry on purpose.

“Your dad wrote that for you,” I say, waving a hand at the notebook Marie clutches. “And he left this.”

“My—” Louis stops talking as he realizes that the bread bag is full of money. A bread bag full of dough, I realize silently, trying not to laugh. “My dad?”

“I found the book at a yard sale. With the money inside. I read some of it—sorry.”

“It must have been in what I donated,” Marie says with a sniffle. “This young man—” She pauses, looking at me.

“Tim,” I supply.

“Tim. You brought Dennis home to us.”

“Dennis?” I blink a few times.

“My dad,” Louis says, and I nod idiotically.

“I didn’t consider his first name—I just thought of him as “Louis’ dad.” I mutter.

“He’d have liked that.” Marie smiles under her mask.

“Well, thanks,” I say, and hold the bread bag out again.

“’Thanks’?” Louis asks. “Thank you,” He stares at the bag. “Can I give you some of that? A finder’s fee? Times are tough.”

I swallow, and it comes down hard.

“Nah,” I say, and I fake a smile.

“But—” Louis’ eyes find the Pontiac.

“I got this,” I say. “I’m alright. Besides, your dad saved that for you.”

Louis nods, takes the bag, and puts his arm around his mom.

“Thank you, Tim. Really. I wish you’d known my dad.”

“He loved you,” I say. “Read the book. You’ll see.”

Louis stares.

“I know he did,” he answers. I smile for real; Louis was lucky. I nod, uncomfortable, then turn and walk down their porch steps. I don’t hear the door close.

Maybe I’m lucky too, I realize as I get back in the car. I’ve got Mom. I’ve got Grand—

Shoot.

I pull out my phone. I’m fifteen minutes late for lightbulb duty. I hit my recent calls and start the car while the phone rings.

“Tim? Are you alright?” Grandma’s voice is strained; she’s worried.

“I’m fine. It’s a long story.”

“You can tell me about it. Maybe…” she pauses. “Maybe over lunch?”

“Sounds great, Grandma,” I say. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Thanks if you read the whole thing. It’s dumb, but I could use some Internet-stranger validation on this one. If you feel like reading it in the original doc (I get like 1/3 of a cent from the site if you do,) it’s here: https://vocal.media/stories/for-louis

All the best. Over & Out.