#when she visits she tells him screw your courage to the sticking place

[astronomicalunit32]

In my motivic analysis phase. When did we decide to stop listening to the hamilton soundtrack.

[officialscaramouche]

ayo feel like doing a gorou confession fic for me? pretty please with sprinkles on top (you know that fucking tiktok)

Ofc Pizzato anything for u my dear 🥰

Pairing: Gorou x gn!reader

Warnings: slight angst

Word count: 1,969

You heard a couple friendly knocks on your office door, eyes glancing to the clock to see it was a little past noon and you knew exactly who it was. “Come in,” you chime, putting down your pen and stretching upwards with a smile.

“Helloooooo!” You hear as the door swung open, Kazuha flaunting an envelope between his fingers. “Letter time!”

You sweep to your feet and give him grabby hands. “Give it to me!” He chuckles and places the thin paper into your hands. “Tell me who it is already,” you giggle as you rip it open and slide the letter out.

“No,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I keep my promises.”

You quirk and eyebrow before you fold open the letter. “Even if I bribe you with dango?”

Kazuha smiles. “Even if you bribe me with dango.”

You grunt and groan but it quickly stops when you unfold the letter, reading the contents.

Good afternoon, cupcake, it starts. You blush at the pet name. I hope your day is going as well as mine. I’ve just won the office lottery! I’m going to ask for more snacks in the break room. That way, everyone benefits too! Specifically though, I want more sakura mochi! The ones you made for us were delicious. Share your recipe? :3

I adore you, your secret admirer.

You squeeze the letter to your chest and squeal, your face warm from blushing and your heart pounding against your chest. “Oh, Kazuha, whoever this person is, I really wish they’d come up and confess!”

Kazuha tuts and wiggles his finger. “But then the mystery wouldn’t be there anymore.”

“Screw mystery!” You squealed, gazing down at the illegible and scratchy handwriting, the mysterious stains and fur all over the page. “I’m ready to hear these words in person.”

Just then there was a knock on your door and a quick turn of the knob, one of the top brass leaning against your door frame. “Good morning, Chatty Cathy’s,” sang a familiar voice and ear twitches.

You wave while Kazuha bows, hiding the letter behind your back. “Good morning, General Gorou.”

The tail behind his back wagged discreetly as the two men share a knowing glance. “Kazuha,” the general clears his throat. “May I speak with you?”

The samurai nods his head and gives you a little wave as he walks out the door. “Bye boys!” You sing, tucking the letter back into the envelope and putting it away.

The next day, as routine, a little past noon you heard three friendly knocks on your door. You excitedly put your pen down, closing your ledger and standing out of your chair and onto your feet. “Kazuha,” you grinned. “Come in!”

He pushed the door open with his back, lugging a big box with some plastic sticking out from the top. “I’m just a mule to you guys aren’t I?” He groaned, lifting the box up and onto your desk. “This is ridiculous.”

You stood on your tippy toes to try and peek inside the box without being obnoxious. “What is it?” You hum, getting more and more restless.

“Your letter, what else?” He kind of snapped, letting out a deep sigh and rolling his eyes. “I wish he’d confess too. That way I don’t have to carry these things.”

You pulled back the top of the box that was just out of your reach. “Here,” pushing your hands away, Kazuha tore the box apart to expose a giant basket full of goodies and flowers. “The letter.”

Kazuha snapped the taped-on letter from the plastic and handed it to you. Wasting no time at all, you rip the envelope open and unfold the letter.

Dearest [Y/N], you’ve pierced my heart like an arrow through a target and I simply cannot get you off my mind. I heard from the grapevine that you wish for my confession. …Maybe I shall do so in the near future? It’s not that I do not want to be yours, but rather that you make me quite nervous. Still, we see each other for terribly brief moments but these moments are the most precious to me. Hopefully I can muster up the courage to finally tell you how I feel. In the meantime, please accept these treats and toys imported from across the globe. My favorite are the dog-shaped biscuits.

Your shy admirer.

Looking up from the letter you find Kazuha stuffing his face with some chocolatey cookies from within a tin box labeled ‘Fontaine.’ “Are those good?” You ask, reaching in and stealing one.

“Mhm,” Kazuha hums, taking a bite out of the one in his hand. “I’ve never had Fontaine chocolate. I guess the rumors about being the best were true.”

You melt under the sweet taste and crunchy texture, thinking that if your crush’s letters had a taste, it would be like this. “This is so nice,” you sigh, eyes sparkling as they gaze upon the basket. “Do you think he’s going to confess to me?”

Kazuha stares out the windows of your office that peer into the rest of the building, watching a certain general spill water on himself and the resistance leader. He takes another bite of a cookie. “Maybe.”

You squeal in delight and spin around in joy. “My heart’s beating so fast! I hope he does it soon or I’ll explode!”

Kazuha chuckles and playfully shoves you aside. “If you explode, I’m eating all of your snacks.”

“No! They’re mine!”

Weeks— almost a month— go by with no further letters. Kazuha stopped coming by, whether at noon or otherwise. The only knocks you got were visits from Kokomi about the budget or from other soldiers carrying reports and receipts from spending. Your heart ached at the sudden lack of contact, wondering if you had done or said something wrong.

Maybe your eagerness was intimidating and this mystery man just wanted someone to flirt with without commitment. Maybe he got bored of you. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

Regardless, you wanted to try and spark it back up in case you’ve stepped on some toes without realizing. That night when you got home, you tossed the ingredients for sakura mochi into a bowl and got to mixing.

The office ate everything you brought before lunchtime rolled around. With such great success, you had confidence that he’d reach out to you tomorrow, if not today.

But alas you were left in silence once more, leaving your heart to crumble and ache. You were quick to recover, considering you never met the guy— let alone knew his name. But you had no time to be worrying anyway, because in a couple of days one of the squads were returning from the front lines and you needed to factor in medical costs. Apparently they took a hard hit when Sara Kujou showed up with her samurai. Kokomi was depending on you, and you didn’t want to let her down.

You spend these few days really crunching the numbers, making sure that every wounded soldier would get the basic medical necessities with some left over for any miscalculations. With every i dotted and every t crossed, you stuffed your report into a fancy envelope and handed it to Kokomi. “Thank you [Y/N] for your hard work under such a sudden timetable.” She thanked, tucking the envelope under her arm. “The team should be arriving tomorrow, so I will be submitting this for review immediately.”

You bow respectfully and offer your thanks for praise. “It’s no problem at all, Her Excellency. I was given ample time to prepare the balance sheet.” You begin to turn when you’re stopped once again by her.

“Before you go,” she smiles softly. “Would you mind helping out at the infirmary? We’re short handed right now with the sudden intake of Delusions.”

“Of course, Her Excellency. I will be there whenever you need me.”

You weren’t specialized in medics but you had helped around often enough to know the basics. And anyone could become a master at immediate medical attention after doing it so many times.

The flood of gurneys was a little disheartening to see, but you were still thankful for all that they do for the greater of the country. It must be scary being at the front lines, but everyone knew what they were signing up for.

You catch sight of Genera Gorou and Lord Kazuha chatting with Lady Kokomi before you were assigned to a batch of wounded soldiers, feeling a little bad for harboring ill feelings toward the young lord for disappearing. ‘You could’ve at least told me that you were leaving,’ you thought as you rinsed the injured area.

“I can take over from here,” the head medic stepped in, slipping on a new pair of gloves before getting a closer look at the soldier before you. With most of everyone patched up and recovering, the medic team was able to take control of the infirmary once again.

You wash your hands and check the clock. A little past noon. It’s funny how at this time you would’ve waited with bated breath for a couple of knocks. But not anymore.

You step out of the infirmary and find Kazuha and General Gorou sitting outside on the benches there. “Oh, hi boys,” you say surprised.

Kazuha grabs and shakes your hand. “Thank you for helping out our soldiers,” he says seriously.

“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal,” you mutter. “I do this all the time.”

A calloused hand pushes Kazuha’s away and shakes your hand firmer, harder. “No, [Y/N],” Gorou says with a sort of oomph behind his words. “These are my men…my family. They would be suffering if not for your help.”

You look to the side uncomfortably, a little put-off by the tension in the air. “And that’s why—!” Gorou continues, suddenly eight decibels louder. You hold eye contact with the general, his face darkening into a deep red flush, his eyes glassy and ears twitching. He squeezed your hand harder and shut his eyes. “M-My C-C-Cupcake!!! P-Please let m-me take you on a date!!!!”

Kazuha winced at the loudness of his friend, covering one of his ears but still smiling nonetheless. The people walking by stared and mumbled, but it didn’t matter as you felt your heart pound against your chest. You felt your eyes well with tears as now your face flushed red, the general cautiously opening his eyes to see your trembling lips and pathetic pout. “A-Ah! [Y/N], don’t cry!!”

You tug on his hand hard, pulling the man into your arms and squeezing him tight. You sobbed into his chest, hearing and feeling how frantic his heart was beating as well. “You idiot!” You shout into his battle-worn chest. “Don’t disappear without telling me…”

Gorou caressed the back of your head and chewed on his lip, his tail drooping with guilt but twitching with excitement for being in your arms. “Did I…scare you?” He whispered tentatively, choosing his words carefully.

You pull away and wipe your eyes, Gorou watching you closely and holding tightly onto your waist. “I thought you got tired of me…because I stopped hearing from you.” Gorou frowned and cupped your face, thumbing your cheeks gently. “I even made sakura mochi and I didn’t—”

“You made sakura mochi??!??!!! Is there any left?!?” Gorou’s jaw dropped. He let you go to turn and run to the break room, halting before running back to embrace you once more. “Heh, uh…” he chuckled nervously. “I’d actually…rather hold you like this…”

You couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your cheeks, flushing your body against his chest. “That’s okay,” you giggle. “There aren’t any left.”

You had no idea that his ears could flatten sadly like that.

[filmsmakkari]

Take A Break

Wordcount- 1.1k

Hamilton!Tom Holland x Angelica!Reader

Tom Holland x Princess!Reader

I would recommend listening to the song here!

Full Series Masterlist

As time passed, you stayed in regular correspondence with Thomas. It pained you deeply for there to be such a large distance between the two of you. But, it perhaps hurt less than to be near him, but not have him completely. You were stuck in a loveless marriage in a foreign country, Thomas’s letters were your lifeline. You craved his words. He was incredibly witty and eloquent, with every letter, you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper.

You were sitting in your chambers, which you didn’t share with your husband, reading a tragedy by your favorite writer when a servant entered with a letter in her hand.

“It’s from the Duke of Saataun, your majesty,” she said with a curtsy.

“Evangeline, how many times must I ask you not to bow to me?” you asked with a smile, taking the letter from her hand, trying to hide your eagerness for Thomas’s words.

“As many more times as I have to ask you to call me Eva, your majesty.” She smiled at you, curtsying again and leaving the room.

You eagerly opened the letter, your eyes quickly running over his words.

The letter read;

My Dearest, (Y/N),

“Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day”. I trust you’ll understand the reference to another Scottish tragedy without my having to name the play. They think me Macbeth. Ambition is my folly, I’m a polymath, a pain in the ass- a massive pain. Madison is Banquo, Jefferson is MacDuff, and Birnin Wood is parliament on its way to Dunsinane.

And there you are an ocean away. Must you be an ocean away? Thoughts of you subside, then I receive another letter from you, and I cannot put the notion away.

Adieu ma chere,

Thomas, Duke of Saataun

Your heart clenched and it felt like you had butterflies in your stomach as you read his words. “My Dearest, (Y/N)” he had written. Normally you wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at the phrase, but the comma after “dearest” changed the meaning. You had to know if it was intentional. You immediately rose, took a seat at your desk, dipped your quill in a bottle of ink, and got to writing.

My Dearest, Thomas,

You must get through to Jefferson. Simply sit down with him and compromise- don’t stop until you agree. Your favorite older sister, (Y/N), reminds you, there’s someone in your corner all the way across the sea.

In the letter I received from you today I noticed a comma in the middle of a   phrase. It changed the meaning. Did you intend this? One stroke and you’ve consumed my waking days. It says  “My dearest, (Y/N)” with a comma after”dearest”. You’ve written, “the person dearest to me, (Y/N)”.

Anyway, all this to say, I’m coming home this summer at my sister’s invitation. I’ll be there with your family should you make your way upstate. I know you are very busy, I know your work is important, but I’m crossing the ocean and I just can’t wait.

Then you won’t be an ocean away. You’ll only be a moment away.

Adieu, my dear friend,

Princess (Y/N) of Larione

Months later, you were on a ship Saataun bound. Saataun was the city Thomas and Eliza had been made Duke and Duchess of after their marriage. You would meet them in Saataun, and you would altogether go to Hasnaa and visit your father at the Fadar da Hasnaa where he was staying for the summer.

When you arrived at the Duke and Duchess’s home, you saw them all waiting outside for you, along with their lovely children. You laughed loudly, forgetting all the rules of being a princess, and ran towards them, wrapping your arms around your sister.

“(Y/N)!” Eliza exclaimed.

“Eliza!” you exclaimed back.

“Larione’s Princesses,” Thomas said, smiling at you both.

“Thomas,” you said, the longing clear in your voice.

“Hi,” he said bashfully.

You enveloped him in a tight hug. “It’s good to see your face.”

You released him from the hug and looked into those eyes you’d fantasized about at night for so long. They shone with the same ambition and intelligence you’d seen when you first looked into them in what felt like years ago. But something was different, they were slightly darkened by loss. You had heard that his dear friend Lieutenant Colonel Osterfield had been killed during a skirmish with Zarian forces. Still, they sparkled with cleverness and adoration. For you, for Eliza, and for his children.

Your eyes still lingered on him as Eliza began to speak. “(Y/N/N), tell this man Edmund Adams spends the summer with his family.”

You only tore your gaze from him as you all began to walk back into the manor, smiling at your nephew who had turned nine the previous day.

“(Y/N), tell my wife Edmund Adams doesn’t have a real job anyway,” Thomas snarkily replied back.

You stopped walking. “Wait, Thomas, you’re not joining us?”

“I’m afraid I cannot join you upstate,” he replied grimly.

“But Thomas, I came all this way!” you exclaimed sadly.

“She came all this way,” Eliza said, standing by your side. “Please, my love, take a break. Run away with us for the summer, we’ll all go stay with our father. There’s a lake I know in a nearby park where you and I can go when the night falls!”

You and Eliza grabbed his hands.

You nodded at your sister’s words before speaking. “And I know I’ll miss your face. ‘Screw your courage to the sticking place,” you quoted Lady Macbeth at him, knowing he’d understand the reference to your shared favorite Scottish Tragedy.

He did. He threw a gentle, knowing smile in your direction.

“My dear brother, if you take your time you will make your mark. Just close your eyes and dream. Take a break,” you said.

Thomas wiped the smile off his face, freeing his hands from your and Eliza’s grip.

“I have to get my plan through parliament. I can’t stop until I get this plan through parliament.” And with that, he was back up the stairs and into his office.

Eliza started to go after him, but you grabbed a hold of her, wrapped your arms around her, and ushered her into the common room where the children were.

You and your sister were unable to convince Thomas to join you upstate, so you left him in Saataun while you went to stay with your father, leaving him to make the first of a series of mistakes that would destroy the legacy he cared so much about.

[chaoticallysapphic]

slippin’ through my fingers

summary: three times Lin should have spoken up and the one time she finally does.

a/n: this one shot does feature a bit of homophobia along with an abusive relationship, please don’t read if either of those things triggers you. Also there is mildy explicit tones in the earlier parts of this but it sticks to being PG-13

word count: 4k

“Lin slow down!” You scream which only causes her grin to widen. You tighten your arms around her waist and bury your face in her back, she can faintly hear you cursing her out over the wind as she speeds past automobiles on her brand new motorcycle. She’d gotten it for her seventeenth birthday and immediately convinced you to go for a ride with her, it took some begging but finally, you caved after saying she owed you a piece of cake in return. 

She revs her cycle and heads out of the city, to a spot on the outskirts overlooking the ocean, she’d found it the other day with Suyin and knew how much you’d appreciate it. When she turns a corner a little sharper than the rest you let out a terrified scream that has her laughing so hard it hurts her cheeks, but almost immediately she chokes on that laughter as you bury your face in her neck this time instead of her back. Suddenly she feels stiff, nervous even, having you this close was a bad idea. 

Lin had been feeling weird towards you lately, she’d chalked it up to growing up but the other night she woke up from her dream drenched in sweat as she vaguely remembered sliding her hands up your bare thighs as you begged her to stop being a tease. Technically it was from growing up, just… a different kind. 

Thankfully they finally pull up to the spot and she kills the engine before kicking the stand into place, hesitantly you pull your face away from her neck, just a few inches and now she feels your breath tickle the skin behind her ear. Lin was screwed. 

“Oh wow, Lin…” You breathe out after finally detaching yourself from her, you stand up and adjust your rumpled clothes before taking off your helmet. Your hair falls out in a glorious heap and Lin has to pull her gaze away from you because the sun is hitting you just right and she won’t last long if this continues. 

You grab onto her hand and pull her to the cliff edge where you carefully sit down so your feet can dangle off of it. Lin sits beside you but makes sure there’s a decent distance between the two of you, you furrow your brows at her actions and scoot closer so your thighs are touching. It’s like you want to torture her. 

“You like it?” she asks softly, she’s worried you won’t all of the sudden. You are from a very aristocratic family and you’ve probably seen better things, but you erase all her worries when you smile softly and say so quietly the wind almost carries it away “Yeah, I do.” 

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask hesitantly, your fiddling with your nails as you stare down at your lap. You’re nervous. 

“You can tell me anything, y/n.” 

“I don’t like men” you whisper, going completely still as you wait for her reply. Lin laughs, “no one likes men y/n, we just tolerate them.” 

“No like romantically I don’t.” Your shoulders sag and you finally chance a glance in her direction, Lin’s quiet now, her laughter has stopped and she doesn’t know what to say, are you somehow aware of her dream? Is this a joke? “I kissed Tenzin recently, not because there’s feelings but I asked him if he would and I think he was just excited to have his first kiss… It felt gross and wrong.” 

“Well Tenzin’s one man,” Lin says, “and he’s hardly even a man at that.” You snort, one of your hands going up to cover your mouth, you’re insecure about that, but now that Lin is thinking about it, it’s kind of cute. 

“I’ve kissed other guys Lin. Some of the girls at my school mentioned having dreams… “ you flush, “sexual kinds about guys and I’ve never had those. They even listed off a bunch of stuff guys do that they think is hot and I just kept picturing women doing it.” 

You knock the wind out of Lin at that, she’s had some thoughts towards guys before now that she thinks about it, desires, but none of them have been as intense as her current desire for you is. It’s tense between the two of you as you wait for her to reply. “Can you please say something?” you beg. 

I think your really pretty and I’d like to hold your hand and kiss you goodnight

“Nothings wrong with liking girls, y/n,” Lin says instead, you look a little relieved yet disappointed. 

———————————————————————————————————- 

Breaking news! Mrs. y/l/n of y/l/n industry has fallen ill! Her immediate family has not given any statements but a close source says it’s any minute until she departs this world.

———————————————————————————————————-   

When you open your bedroom door for Lin she notices how pale you look, she leaves work as soon as possible after hearing the news through the radio stationed in the main office of the station. “Y/n, I am so s-” before she continues you launch yourself into her arms and cry, she pulls you in close and stays silent, letting you get it out of your system. 

You lost your dad when you were ten, your mom is the only parent you have left and she knows it’ll be hard when she passes, especially since you’ll have to take over the family company. You pull her into your room and kick the door shut with your foot, still gripping her tightly. 

“She’s gonna die Lin” you choke out between sobs and Lin’s heartbreaks. It’s been three years since she realized her feelings for you and every day since she’s wanted to take your face in her hands and kiss you until you both run out of breath. She’s even had to distance herself from you a bit, you guys used to see each other every day but now it’s once a week if you’re lucky. 

When Lin became a cop you’d always waltz in around lunch in one of your beautiful dresses that stopped mid-thigh, you had tights on underneath but she knew your mom still gave you hell for your daily attire. You are always holding two cups of tea along with a paper bag being dangled between your fingers that always had something incredibly delicious inside. 

The day that Lin realized you couldn’t come by anymore you’d brought donuts along with sandwiches for the two of you to eat. The glaze of the donut had dripped down the side of your hand and onto your wrist, instead of using a napkin you simply licked it up with your tongue. Once you left she stumbled her way to the gym and tried to take out her sexual frustration in another way. 

That night she called and said she was told it was unprofessional for you to keep visiting, she could tell through the phone how disappointed you were, but you didn’t want to get her in trouble so you stopped showing up. One of her coworkers made a joke that the first day you didn’t stop by “hey Lin, where’s that lover of yours?” Her face flushed a deep red and she taught him and the others to never talk about you again. 

“You won’t be alone, you’ll have me… a-and Tenzin, Bumi likes to come to your birthday parties so you have him too,” she says, a weak chuckle escapes you as you finally pull away from her and wipe at your eyes. 

“I’ll never be alone again,” you say cryptically and walk over to the deep green velvet couch stationed underneath a wide window overlooking the city. 

“What do you mean?” Lin sits down beside you. You lean your arms against the back of the couch and look out the window, a deep frown has found its home on your lips and more tears escape the corners of your eyes. 

“My mom’s dying wish is for me to marry,” you say softly. Lin’s eyes widen and before she can ask any questions, you beat her to it. “She’s already picked him out, her assistant is planning it as we speak.” 

“Him?” she all but spits out, unable to control herself. You flinch at the tone of her voice and drop your forehead to rest on the soft velvet. 

“She’d never let me marry a woman, Lin.” you murmur, “she wants me to keep the perfect image she’s created of me, I can’t break it, that might just kill her before her sickness does.” 

“But you’ll never love him, does she not know this?” Lin demands, her mind is racing with a million images of you in some man’s arms and suddenly she wants to destroy everything in sight. 

“I’ve never told her about my… attractions. She thinks it’s wrong and read it can be fixed with some kind of medicine that’s being sold in the black market in Ba Sing Se.” You look up finally and meet Lin’s gaze, suddenly her anger dissipates as she looks into your eyes and sees how truly devastated you are. 

She tries to calm herself down and pulls you into her arms where you begin to weep. Your hand clutches the front of her shirt so tightly Lin’s sure you might just rip it. She once dreamed of you two getting married, it was before her fight with her family and she even put on a dress to make you smile, which you did. Before your lips touched after saying ‘I do’ she whispered against your lips “I love you Mrs. Beifong” and you flushed a deep red before pulling her into a breathtakingly passionate kiss that had someone in the crowd, most likely Bumi or Suyin, whistling. 

“I’ve never even kissed a girl” you croak out, your head resting on Lin’s shoulder. You’ve cried out all the tears in your system for now and your eyes are puffy. Her hand that was soothingly running through your hair stills at your words. Truthfully, neither has she. 

“Would you- do you want to?” Lin asks and instantly she regrets it. You pull away from her shoulder, her hand dropping onto the back of the couch as you stare into her eyes. 

“W-With you?” Your eyes are wide and cheeks a deep red, your still close and Lin takes that as a good sign. All she can do is nod and some kind of strange sound comes out of you that makes her stomach clench. “I… “ you rub the back of your neck, “would like that a lot.” 

For a minute, maybe two, neither of you move. You’re the first to break as you lean closer to Lin which helps give her the courage to lean into you until your lips are a breath apart. You’re shaking like a leaf so Lin places one of her hands on your shoulder to help ground you before pressing her lips against yours. That same sound from before escapes you, it’s some kind of desperate low moan and Lin brings her other hand to rest on the back of your head to bring you even closer. 

Lin tugs at your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you as you happily open your mouth for her and something within her stirs, awakens at the sounds. 

You crawl onto Lin’s lap and place a leg on either side of her hips, it’s like her dreams but it’s so much better which is confirmed by the hand that slips up her shirt to grip her bare hip. Lin lets out a guttural sound and pulls away, you let out a breathy sigh as Lin’s lips reattach themselves onto your jaw and make a slow, wet trail down to the base of your neck. 

“Lin” you moan and she’s officially decided that she can die happy now, if she must live any longer her name on your lips is all she wants to hear. You lose yourselves in each other and eventually stumble to your canopy bed that’s across the room. 

It’s the best thing Lin’s ever done, she makes sure to touch you everywhere she possibly can and kisses you there too. If she were ever to become religious you’d be her goddess and your body the temple that she’d worship every single day. 

The sun has set by the time you two have calmed down and Lin holds you in her arms as you lay your head on her bare shoulder. Her thumb traces circles on your stomach as she whispers “we could run away.” 

“You know I can’t Lin, she’s all I have.” 

You have me

———————————————————————————————————–

The media representative for the Y/L/N family says y/n and Chao have just welcomed their first child, a healthy baby girl, only ten months after their wedding! I think we all know what that honeymo- Lin rips her radio out of the socket and throws it against the wall.

———————————————————————————————————–

Never once has Lin dreaded standing on these steps until today, a call was made late last night whilst she was asleep about a break-in at the Y/L/N family estate, an attempt was made on your life and due to the high profile of your family Lin along with five officers have to come to your home to make sure its a secure and get statements. 

One of her best detectives knocks on the grand mahogany door for her and a male servant opens it up “thank you for coming so quickly” he says and ushers them inside. Another servant, also a male, offers them tea to which they all, besides officer Liu who began to ask for a cup of oolong before Lin gently jabs him in the stomach to shut up, politely decline. 

“We’ll split up, Liu and Cho, I want you to secure the perimeter, apparently the perpetrators entered through the west wing. The rest of you along with myse-” 

“Chief Beifong, Lady Y/L/N asked if she could talk to you privately about last night” one of the servants interrupts her in some uppity tone that makes her roll her eyes. What could you want? 

“Fine, the rest of you interview everyone who was working here yesterday whilst I get a statement from Mrs. Y/L/N” Lin has to try her hardest not to spit out the word ‘Mrs’ but ultimately fails seeing as her officers look terrified now and all scurry off to do their respective tasks. 

Someone leads her up the stairs and down the left hall, to what Lin remembers being your mother’s sitting room. The servant opens the door for Lin and says to whom she can only assume is you, “Chief Beifong.” He leaves and Lin reluctantly takes a step inside. 

She’s seen photographs of you in the papers, your family has always been one the media adores but it’s still shocking to be face to face with you. After your wedding, Lin stopped returning your calls or letters, after a month you gave up much to Lin’s chagrin. Part of her wanted you to go to the ends of the earth for her like she would for you. 

Your features have matured a bit over the past three years and you’re dressed in a floor-length hanbok instead of your showy dresses. There’s a massive bruise around your throat that makes her anger dissipate as worry sets in. She clears her throat which snaps you out of your reverie and says “So, what can you tell me about last night?” 

Your brows pinch together and you frown, you look hurt at her tone of indifference. She tries to not let it bother her. You turn your back on her and go to sit at one of the elaborately designed couches. It’s heinous and so not you. “You can sit, y’know.” 

“I’m fine right here, now I need to know anything you can remember about last night to help me keep you… your family safe.” Your shoulders sag and you sigh. 

“I don’t know much, I think they wanted to kill me… one of the men kind of looked familiar though” your hand comes up to your throat and hovers over the nasty bruise. Lin decides she should probably sit down, if you’re going to continue and if it gets any worse then that she might just fall to her knees. 

“Where do you remember seeing the man?” she asks, your eyes flicker around the room. “He used to work for mom.” 

“But he isn’t currently employed by your family?” She pulls out her small notebook meant for things like this and starts to write down about a possible suspect. 

“No, he quit after the wedding, I don’t remember his name but his eyes were so… blue.” That unfortunately isn’t much help, Lin sighs, trying not to flinch when you mention that day. You stand up from your couch and sit on the one Lin settled on, she tenses up but you make sure to sit on the opposite end. “I want to divorce him, Lin.” 

“That’s irreleva-” 

“I’ve never loved him, please. H-He knows about… me. He found out a month after the wedding and fired all our female employees, he doesn’t like me alone with women. Lin, I want to leave him” you plead softly, as if someone may hear. 

“Then leave him, I don’t understand why you feel the need to tell me” she grumbles. You lean a bit closer to her but make sure not to get too close. 

“He has my family assets, I-I don’t think I can do it alone. Lin Please” you beg and at that she looks up and into your eyes. Your eyes are brimming with tears and you grip the fabric of your hanbok tightly. 

“What about Annchi?” Tenzin had told Lin about your daughter one time, he mentioned how he met her a few months after her birth but you stopped talking to him shortly after. 

“I’d take her with me, please, tomorrow at dusk meet me at that spot you took me to on your birthday, our spot, please.” Before Lin can respond the door to the sitting room slams open and in steps your husband, following him is the same servant who guided Lin here. “Sir I am so sorry. I’m new and I-I di-” 

Chao sighs and looks over his shoulder “It’s fine, but next time lady Y/L/N needs a guard with her, it’s far too dangerous right now, especially in her condition.” You quickly wipe away your tears and stand, he opens his arms for you and you reluctantly step inside of them. “Chief Beifong, you’re a childhood friend of my wives, yes?”

He offers her a wide grin that unsettles her, “yes, we went to grade school together.” Lin stands as well and puts her notepad away along with her pen. 

“Well I’m shocked to have not met you before today, Y/N why wasn’t she at the wedding?” he pecks you on your cheek and you look up at him with a small, almost defeated smile. 

“I believe she was busy, honey. She does have a time-consuming job” you reply smoothly, you set a hand on his chest and Lin feels like she’s been subjected to one of her worst nightmares. “Well that is to bad, y’know we do have another monumental par-” 

“I don’t think she’d want to come to that Cha-” you hastily reply but Chao chuckles and interrupts you. 

“Why not? Do you not want your friend at the baby shower? It’ll make up for lost time.” You look down at your feet as he brings you even closer. Lin feels like she’s been submerged into the North Pole’s canals and her heart has most definitely stopped beating. Are you pregnant again?  

“I need to get back to the station, I want to try and find the awful men who broke in yesterday as fast as possible,” she says and hastily leaves the sitting room, she bounds down the stairs as fast as she can without tripping and slams the front door open so she can get out of there, out of eyesight and away from him, from you. She doesn’t wait for her officers to finish up, instead, she mounts her motorcycle and speeds off.

The next day she reluctantly takes herself to your spot, she brought a car instead of a motorcycle since you said you’d be bringing Annchi. She doesn’t know if she can look at your daughter without breaking down, but she’ll try her hardest for you.

It’s ten o’clock when Lin gives up on waiting, she slams her car door shut and drives home, she’s pretty sure she broke at least three traffic laws but she’s too consumed in her thoughts to care.

It’s three days later that she sees you again, you stop by the station with two bodyguards in tow, you’re wearing another elegant hanbok and an officer brings you into Lin’s office, claiming if anyone just knocks they’ll get yelled at for it. The guards come into her office with you and it’s a bit cramped with the four of you. 

“My husband found the men, he wanted me to come to tell you we’re safe now and to thank you for stopping by,” you say softly, Lin’s brows pinch together, you won’t look her in the eyes. “I also wanted to let you know that I was a bit hysterical the other day due to fear and my hormones, but thank you for lending an ear.” 

What? Lin looks between the two guards and then at you, you very subtly shake your head. 

“Mrs. Y/L/N the men should be brought into the station, they are criminals and need to be apprehended” Lin stands from her chair. 

Give me a sign, anything, show me you meant to be there at dusk. Give me something, please.

You nod and make to leave but one of the guards lays his hand on your shoulder “Lady Y/L/N, aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks, Lin looks him over and her heart stops as she looks into his eyes ‘his eyes were so blue’ you’d said. You pull out a small, golden envelope and hand it to her before disappearing with your guards stalking behind you. 

I still love you.

Lin rips open the envelope and inside is an invitation to your baby shower which is set a few months from now. 

———————————————————————————————————–

I am here to report sad news today, Republic City, Chao Y/L/N was found dead this morning. He peacefully passed away in his sleep and is survived by his wife, Y/N Y/L/N, and his two children, Annchi, who is sixteen, and his son Han who is thirteen. Please send them your condolences as they go through this hard time. 

———————————————————————————————————–

Lin is sent a letter two days after the announcement regarding your husband, it’s from you, she’d never forgotten your handwriting, asking her to meet you at your spot, at dusk once more. She wants to burn the letter and not show up, but she’s weak when it comes to you and caves at the last second, she drives there, her heart racing at the idea of seeing you once more. 

When Lin pulls up an hour has passed since dusk but you’re still sitting there, waiting for her. You’re wearing a pair of pants with a shirt tucked in and an overcoat to help with the fall breeze and you seem a bit lighter than last time she saw you. 

Shortly after she got the invitation for your baby shower the servant from the day she stopped by, the one who showed her to the sitting room, had knocked on her apartment door with a letter gripped in his shaking hand. Lin took it from him and slammed the door on his face before opening it up. 

“I can’t go through with it anymore, I just got confused when I saw your face again. I’m happy here.” 

She had spent that night curled up on top of her covers crying as she remembered every little thing about you and your time together. She’ll die alone, she thought, because no one could ever beat you. 

“Hi,” your voice is like honey and she has to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from giving in to it and getting trapped once more, “I wanted to… I wanted to explain somethings.” 

“Then explain” she replies plainly and you wring your hands out in front of you as you try to find the right words. 

“I was gonna show up, Lin… but he figured it out and threatened to keep Annchi from me, he showed me these papers, they were lies but it was all incriminating and would have been used against me in court…” You let out a shaky, uneven breath as you try to remain calm and not cry. “I’ve spent the last eleven years envisioning if I had successfully run away with you and Annchi and each time I have to stop myself before it gets too painful.” 

“And the letter?” she replies harshly, your brows furrow in confusion. “What letter?” 

Lin scoffs, is she so unimportant that you just forgot? “The letter y/n, stating that you were just confused, are you lying to me now or were you lying to me then?” 

“You think I’d write something like that? Lin, he never let me write letters to people, whatever you received was not from me!” You shout out, you look so hurt and her head is swirling in confusion, it was fake?

Suddenly it all makes sense, you seemed so desperate to leave, and then you called it all off with a flick of your wrist. You knew Lin was a bit insecure and she was so hurt when you stood her up, but all along you didn’t want to. You were getting ready to meet her that night. You take a hesitant step towards Lin, then another and another until you’re in front her, only two paces away. 

“That night, when we were younger, it was the best night of my life, Lin. After you left in the morning I couldn’t stop crying, everyone tried to comfort me because they thought it was about my mom and I felt even worse because… because the pain of knowing I destroyed our chance hurt more.” 

“Do you still… care about me?” Lin asks, part of her wants to take the question back but she keeps her ground and waits for an answer. Your head flies up in surprise as you stare into her eyes. 

“Lin… I’ve never stopped loving you, the maids on my wedding day kept having to dry my tears in the dressing room because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how badly I messed up.” Her eyes widen at your confession, love? Do you love her? Even now you love her despite all those years apart and you still love her. Everything regarding you seemed so unachievable her whole life but now it’s within reach and Lin feels her throat constricting, she doesn’t know what to do or say. 

It’s different then her dreams, there aren’t any consequences in her dreams or chances of you changing your mind. She’s worried if she pulls you in for a kiss like she wants to right now you might just take back your words and break her heart again.

You take her silence as an answer and take a step back, you rip your gaze from hers as you feel your heart crack. Spirits you’re so embarrassed, you had assumed she knew about your feelings and had always hoped she reciprocated them, all the signs pointed to yes but maybe you read into them too much. 

“I’m sorry” you mutter before going to leave, you walk towards your car with your head down and as you go to open the car door Lin puts her hand on it to stop you, you’re trapped now between the car and her, and you don’t know what to do. 

You don’t lift your head up so Lin gently grasps your chin and tilts it up so she can look into your eyes once more. “I love you too,” she leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss that makes you feel twenty again. You feel light headed as she leans you gently against the car, as if you’ll break if she’s to rough.

You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her closer to you, so long has she been out of your grasp, you don’t know if you’ll ever let her go again but you don’t think she’ll mind.

[e-milieeee]

tell me your heart—ladrien

Summary: Marinette finally works up the courage to tell Adrien her feelings. Except there’s one little problem: she accidentally does it as Ladybug, not as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 

Notes: happy anniversary, APS! this is slightly messier than my usual fics but marinette is a mess and so is my brain and yall robbed me of my brain cells :( super glad i joined the server and ily all!! 

Or click here to read on AO3

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is going to confess today.

It’s not going to be like the twenty-second attempt, when she had left her water bottle’s lid screwed on too loosely and ended up digging out a soggy piece of paper in front of Adrien, which Marinette had stupidly dumped into his hands before running.

It’s not going to be like the thirty-sixth attempt, when she had slipped in front of a banana peel and tripped face first into Adrien’s chest and promptly told him to ‘stay peachy!’  

It’s definitely not going to be like the thirty-ninth attempt, one that was too embarrassing for her to recall. Marinette keeps that one in the cobwebbed crevices of her memories with caution tape layered all over the crime scene. No, this time will be perfect, because everything—every roadblock, every little thing that has the slightest potential to go wrong—has been dealt with.

Except, that is, the akuma attack that happens right after school.

By the time she purifies the akuma and bids Chat goodbye, Adrien’s schedule has moved from Chinese lessons to fencing. In a mad scramble, Marinette snatches her backpack up from the corner she’d tossed it right before the akuma attack. Inside, nestled carefully, are a pair knitted mittens. They’re less colorful than the rest of her inventions, but it’s been meticulously tailored to fit Adrien’s color scheme in a way that she hopes won’t clash with his other clothing (and, fingers crossed, will pass Gabriel Agreste’s critical eye). In a smaller box lies five passionfruit macarons that she’d woken up to bake at four in the morning.

It’s all perfect—every little bit—nothing can go wrong. Absolutely nothing.

She runs past one of the other fencing boys on the way, ignoring the strange look he sends her. Then, crossing her fingers that Adrien is still in the locker room, rushes inside.

It’s empty at first glance, and while Marinette’s heart drops, she isn’t deterred. She has a backup plan to the backup plan. And a backup plan to that. If she can’t catch Adrien before fencing, she’ll catch him after. If she can’t catch him after, she knows exactly where his Chinese lesson is—it’s all foolproof. No loopholes. No mushy notes, no banana peels.

Except she doesn’t need to find him after. Because there, at the last row of the lockers, stands Adrien Agreste.

He’s all dressed in his white fencing gear, arranging his shoes with the helmet tucked under his arms. Marinette practically barrels towards him, holding the gift-wrapped mittens and the box of passionfruit macarons. She’s out of breath, but it’s not from the running. Nervousness churns in her stomach, in her chest, until she feels like she’s going to barf.

No. She is not going to barf on Adrien Agreste attempting to confess to him. That would make it even worse than attempt thirty-nine.

“Adrien,” Marinette announces loudly.

Said boy looks up at her. His eyes widen, hands dropping from his shoes and leaving his laces untied, before he straightens. His mouth is open and does not close.

Is she that surprising? Maybe it’s because she’s in the boy’s locker room? But Marinette has long decided that doesn’t matter. She’s going to do it. She’s going to say it. Now.  

“I have something to tell you,” she continues. “Do you have a moment?”

“Yes,” Adrien replies. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her. “Um, definitely. Definitely have a moment.”

Mentally, Marinette congratulates herself. Her voice has remained even and confident, and she sounds like she knows what she’s talking about. Judging by the look of surprise that still hasn’t disappeared from Adrien’s face, she figures that she might be doing something right, finally. Or maybe something horribly, horribly wrong—

That thought drives out the eloquent speech she had prepared to deliver. Reverting back to her mess of words, Marinette thrusts out her arms, where the two packages lie.

“I like you,” she declares.

Oh, no.  

That was not how it was supposed to go. Marinette opens her mouth to amend, although she only ends up digging an even deeper hole. “Like, as in like-like you. Not as a friend. I mean—I mean, I do like you as a friend! But more than that too. I’ve liked you since you gave me your umbrella on the first day, and I realized you were such a compassionate, considerate person and you really care for your friends and you’re amazing and you smell good— argh.” She looks down at the gifts she’s still holding out to Adrien, tucked between red and black lined up her arms and tries to collect her words. “I like you a lot Adrien, and I know you might not feel the same, but I wanted to—”

The realization hits Marinette a second before Adrien manages out, sounding like he very much might faint, “Ladybug?”

They stare at each other. Then, like the idiot she is, Marinette blurts, “I’m not Ladybug, I’m Marinette.”

Oh, God.  

It's tragedy at it’s finest. This much, much worse than the time she’d dumped her yoghurt over his head.

Marinette knows that she should do something to fix the situation. Especially now, as Ladybug, who should be able to fix more than she ruins. Will it work if she summons a Lucky Charm? If she Miraculous Ladybug’s the situation, will Adrien forget about the very, very conspicuous slip-up?

No, probably not.

“Um,” Adrien manages. His face is as pale as a sheet. “Ladybug? I—I don’t—uh, are you sure you’ve got the wrong person? This is for—that’s for me?”  

Amidst the panic, Marinette’s heart still manages to drop even further. Of course. It’s a little vague, his reply, but it’s enough for her to understand the undertones in his voice.

“No,” she stammers, reverting right back to a stuttering mess she had been so certain she was long past. Then, as if she hasn’t contradicted herself enough today, she thrusts the bundle—macarons, mittens—into Adrien’s arms. He manages to catch it all, despite her shaky fumbling.

“I’m sorry,” Marinette tells him, because it’s the only thing she can think of saying.

Adrien doesn’t move. His mouth is open and Marinette can’t tell if the expression on his face is shock or confusion or worst—disgust.

The countless possibilities and the sheer terror of not-knowing throws Marinette into action. In one well-rehearsed action, she throws her yo-yo towards the window. It slams against the lock, opening a sliver.

And, like a coward, Marinette runs.  

***

She’s missing.

Adrien has searched everywhere.

He’s well aware of the fact that he skipped fencing; Nathalie will undoubtedly find out and therefore his father will too, but he can’t bring himself to care. He can spin another story about the akuma attack—it doesn’t matter, not when Ladybug— Marinette— is nowhere to be found.

He scours the whole school first, as Adrien Agreste. Then, without letting Plagg convince him into doing anything smarter, Adrien transforms into Chat Noir.

It’s very apparent he has lost his ability to think things clearly when he stops by at the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery to ask for Marinette’s whereabouts.

He’s hit with memories of his last visit here, as Chat Noir: standing in front of the door, imposingly large, with a single pink rose in hand. That might’ve been one of the most terrifying days of his life.

How ridiculous to think that it had been Ladybug—Ladybug, Marinette, Ladybug—that had welcomed him inside, Ladybug whom he had kissed so nervously on the cheek, Ladybug’s parents who…

Adrien’s head is spinning so much that he thinks he’s going to be sick.

The bakery isn’t very crowded when he enters, but he assumes it's because he came at an odd time. He sees Marinette’s mother behind the counter, straightening the displays. Her eyes widen when she sees him. Tom Dupain is nowhere in sight, which Adrien decides is most likely best for himself. They left on decent terms, but he doesn't want to explain to the man why his daughter might be possibly missing.

“Chat Noir!” she exclaims. “What a lovely surprise.”

He manages to return her smile, but it feels more like a wince. “Is La—Marinette home, Mrs. Cheng?”

“Sabine,” she corrects. “And no, not that I know of. School ended and she has yet to come back. Would you like me to pass a message for her?”

Adrien tries to hide his disappointment, but he’s pretty sure Sabine is too perceptive to have missed the way his ears drop. “That’s okay,” he tells her. “Any idea where she might be?”

A shake of her head. Adrien bids her farewell before rushing out, hoping to avoid any more questions.

His next destination is Alya’s house. She’s home, sitting in her room editing the formatting for the Ladyblog. Adrien doesn’t dare walk through their front door, but instead, taps on the window as he clings onto the side of the apartment.

Her eyes go wide when she sees him, and the window is thrown open in a moment and Alya practically sticks her head out. “Chat Noir!” she exclaims with her usual enthusiasm. “What can I help you with? Actually, do you think I could interview—”

“Not now.” He readjusts his grip. “I’m actually looking for Marinette. Do you know where she is?”

Alya frowns. “Marinette? I haven’t seen her since after school. She went looking for one of our classmates—Adrien Agreste? Maybe you’ll find her with him.”

Adrien’s heart stutters a little when he hears his name from her lips, an old nervousness about his identity. He does his best to make sure his expression doesn’t betray his thoughts, and instead offers Alya a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, anyway,” he says. “I’ll just keep looking.”

He can see the question forming on her lips. Adrien practically flees to avoid questioning yet again.

He visits many places, everywhere he can imagine Marinette would go. He even turns up at the Couffaine’s boat, but the answer he receives is the same: no, she hasn't been here.

An hour into his search and Adrien finally . begins to look for spots he knew Ladybug would visit.

He scours Eiffel tower. The area around Notre Dame. He goes to the school again, for good measure. Neither Ladybug or Marinette are anywhere in sight.

It’s at the banks of the Seine that Adrien nearly gives up. He drops by at Andre’s ice cream stand, grudgingly heading over when the man beckons to him.

“Looking for somebody?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Adrien toes the ground. “Has Ladybug passed this area?”

Wordlessly, Andre points his hand towards the row of rooftop. Adrien follows his gaze to them, where bricks and stone dip and form into structures, and—

There.  

Red against blue, outlined against the sky.

There.  

Adrien sucks in a breath. “Thank you,” he breathes to Andre before leaping off.

He drops by behind Ladybug thirty seconds later, his throat closing and chest constricting. She doesn’t turn around even though she must’ve heard the thump of his landing.

She looks impossibly small sitting there. But of course. Ladybug is Marinette—short and cute and bright and generous Marinette, who’s adorably clumsy and sometimes stumbles with her words around him. Other times, she snaps at Chloe—Chloe, who no one else dares confront—without an ounce of fear. (Figures. After facing akumas as Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng probably wouldn’t be scared of Chloe.)

There, with her legs pulled to her chest and untouched ice cream melting in a couple next to her, Adrien finds himself reconciling the two people very easily in his mind, even if part of him still trembles with disbelief and anticipation.

Marinette—Ladybug—is in love with Adrien Agreste; Ladybug is in love with him.  

It’s that thought that gives him courage to take a step forward. “Hey,” he greets, throat dry.

“Hey,” she replies softly. “Why are you out right now, kitty?”

Adrien sits down beside her. “Something surprising happened to me today and I needed time to clear my head. You?”

She turns her head to look at him, and for the first time, Adrien takes her features in with the whole picture in mind. Blue eyes like the sky, black hair. They even had the same hairstyle. The same voice. Ladybug pouts like Marinette does when she’s trying to convince people, because God help him, Ladybug was Marinette.

“Remember the boy I told you I liked?” Ladybug mumbles.

The sting in his chest is gone when she mentions it. Mentions him.  

All those days of harbouring jealousy—jealousy Adrien had told himself many times was irrational yet could not let go of—at Ladybug’s unnamed crush, and it had been himself all along.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I made a mistake today.” She stretches her legs out in front of her and gives him a sad little smile. “I thought… I don’t know what I was thinking, but I thought I should finally tell him what I feel about him.”

“Did he reject you?” Adrien asks carefully.

“Yes—no, but I-I might’ve accidentally given away my identity. He isn’t the sort of person who would go around telling anybody, but I just—I mean, now he knows I’m Ladybug. And the worst part is that the first thing he said was are you sure you’ve got the wrong person. So maybe that was a rejection. Maybe—I mean, what if he was disappointed? To find out who Paris’ superhero really was?”

“Why would he be disappointed?”

Ladybug throws her arms up. “Because it’s me,” she says. “I’m just a normal girl underneath the suit. Maybe he was expecting…maybe he was expecting someone more phenomenal. Someone more…worthy? It’s just… yeah, the options could’ve been much worse. But they could’ve been much better, you know? Maybe if I hadn’t accidentally confessed as Ladybug, he wouldn’t have been…wouldn’t have been as disappointed.”

Her words hurt, the fact that this is what she thinks about herself and his opinion of her, but Adrien doesn’t let himself give in yet. The words and dancing on the tip of his tongue— Plagg, claws in— but he seals them away for later. “If this boy you like doesn’t think you’re worthy, then he’s not worthy,” he tells her. “Underneath the suit, whoever you are, I’m certain you’re just as amazing.”

She laughs, but it’s a little strained. “Thanks, kitty,” she whispers. “I wish he thought like that as well.”

Adrien can barely sit still. It must be black magic that his voice comes out without trembling. “Maybe he does.”

“If he did, why did he say that? He looked shocked, and it wasn't the sort of good shock?”

“Did you give him a chance to respond?”

“Well… no.”

“Maybe Adrien would’ve said something different if you stayed a little longer.”

“Or maybe he would’ve said even worse— wait. Did you just say Adrien?”

She looks at him now, and Adrien’s heart is beating so fast that he’s sure it’s going to rip right out of his ribcage. “Did you say Adrien?” she repeats when he doesn't immediately respond.

Adrien takes a deep breath. “Plagg, claws in.”

His transformation falls in a burst of green light, too quick for Ladybug to turn away, too sudden for her to remember to close her eyes.

Silence follows. Then, with a loud shriek, she practically leaps to her feet. “ Adrien?”  

Now that he’s reached the end of what’s been thought through, Adrien can only improvise. He opens his palms, which are sticky with sweat. “Ta-da?” he announces weakly.

Ladybug lets out a sound that sits between a sputter and a choke. She points a finger at him. “You’re Adrien,” she says.

“Yeah. And you’re—you’re Marinette.”

They stare at each other, both speechless, before Adrien says, “I wasn’t disappointed, you know. I was just… I wasn’t functioning properly because the girl I’ve been in love with for the past six months confessed to me. And because I was so used to you turning me down that it was just—uh, it was shocking. But I promise you it’s the best sort of shock. Not the bad kind you were talking about."

“Oh my God,” Ladybug manages. “ You’re Chat. Of course you’re Chat Noir. And…all those times—I dumped yoghurt on Chat Noir’s head?”  

Adrien can’t help the laughter that bursts out. “Ladybug dumped yoghurt on my head,” he confirms.

“I’ve… thrown Adrien Agreste off the Eiffel tower for fun.”

“I sit in front of Ladybug in class.”

“Adrien’s face is plastered all across the city and nobody suspects that you’re Chat Noir!”

At that, she bursts out laughing. It’s a little hysterical, but it’s laughter all the same, and she laughs until she has doubled over, clutching her stomach and shaking. “We’re so stupid,” Ladybug manages out between giggles. “All this time, and we’ve been idiots.”

He grins back at her. “To think that you’ve been the one grilling me about keeping my identity secret, yet you’re the one who gave it away in the end.”

Ladybug shakes her head. “What now?”

“What now?” Adrien echoes. “Well, the girl of my dreams just confessed to me, and I haven’t given her an answer yet.” He takes a deep breath. The words are well rehearsed as Chat; less so as Adrien Agreste. It’s strangely foreign now that their situation has shifted so drastically, but he plows on. “I like you as well, but I’ve made that abundantly clear. And I like you, Marinette too. N-not just Ladybug. Both sides of you. I’m not disappointed you’re Ladybug, because now that I see it, it could only be you. And I’m so, so glad you decided to tell me today. Even if it didn’t go as you planned in the beginning.”

A thrill runs through him when he sees the way her face lifts into a smile. They look at each other, wordless but not needing words, everything unspoken already laid out between them.

“There doesn’t need to be a what now,” Adrien adds. “I’m quite content with now.”  

He holds out his hand, and she takes it.

“I’m glad you’re my partner,” Ladybug says quietly, after a little bit of silence. “And I’m glad that today happened. And I’m really, really glad that it was you I dumped that yoghurt on. It's suddenly a lot less embarrassing.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nudges his hip playfully with her own. It’s a familiar action, but this time, Adrien swears his heart melts a little bit more at it. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, kitty.”

“Well, if I’ve got it right, you like me because I’m amazing and generous and smell good, so I don’t think I’m getting ahead of myself.”

When he sneaks a glance at her, her face is red. “Shut up.”

“Or else?”

“Or else,” she echoes, then shakes her head. “I just remembered. I gotta go before my parents start panicking.”

“Are you leaving on purpose?”

“Ye— no! No, I’m not. But my maman expected me home hours ago, and they’re bound to worry. I’ll—I’ll call you when I get back, and we can even meet tonight if you want.”

Adrien smiles at her. It's endearing, these little pieces of Marinette he sees in Ladybug that he's never noticed before. The slight stumbling over her words, the way she taps her feet on the ground. “It’s fine,” he reassures, “I get it. And tonight sounds good.”

“Tonight it is,” Ladybug agrees. “Eiffel tower?”

“Yeah. S-see you.”

She gives him a quick wave, pauses, then leans in and presses a chaste kiss against his cheek. Before Adrien can speak or react, she has thrown her yo-yo towards a nearby building and swung away.

His face is warm long after the red of Ladybug’s suit disappears. Adrien doesn’t know how long he continued staring after her if it’s not for Plagg, who zips out of his shirt and smacks his cheek, hard.

“Close your mouth before I barf,” his kwami groans. “Because I’m this close to cataclysming myself.”

“Ladybug likes me back,” Adrien tells Plagg for good measure.

“I’ve heard!”  

Despite his complaining, though, Plagg grants him silence as Adrien sits quietly on the rooftop. And everything is okay—everything is more than okay—because Ladybug is Marinette, Marinette is Ladybug, and Adrien has never been happier.

Notes: i tried my best ok pls accept my offering of good will :( 

(this is also the least angsty reveal fic i’ve done fhsjkfdhf) 

Fics masterlist

[skieswords]

Pull Through Part 6

Please read the warnings in Part 1❤️

Trigger warning, mentions of physical abuse, self-harm, vomiting. 

They pulled into the driveway, Becca's hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Alex placed a hand over them, nodding at her, before stepping out of the car, and coming round to let her out. He took her hand again, and walked into the house by her side, kicking his shoes off as she did the same. Becca took a deep breath and dropped Alex's hand, stepping into the kitchen, and blinking under the sudden light. "Rebecca, happy birthday. Did you have a good day?" 

Becca nodded at her dad with a weak smile, and made her way to the fridge, taking out a bottle of water. "Yeah it was pretty good. I got an A in my english exam, by the way." Graham nodded from his seat at the table, his tie resting beside him and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. A few empty beer bottles sat on the table in front of him, another one in his hand. "Fine. What about math? And science?" There was a slight sneer in his voice, and Becca looked at her feet, shuffling awkwardly. "I've got those exams next week. I'll pass them though, promise." Graham snorted quietly, and polished off the beer in his hand, slamming it down on the table with a little too much force. "Yes, you will." Becca nodded and turned to leave, but he spoke before she could. "Grab us another beer, hon." She looked back at him, taking in his dishevelled hair and glassy eyes. "Dad, don't you think you've had enough?" Alex took a deep breath from where he was standing outside the door. Obviously she was feeling brave. "Who are you to tell me when I've had enough? God, you sound like your whore mother." Alex flinched, and took another step towards the doorframe, trying to build up the courage should he need to intervene. Becca's voice, strangely confident, filled the kitchen again. "Don't talk about mom like that. She deserves more respect." Graham's chair scraped against the kitchen tiles, and he stood up, frothing at the mouth. "Don't talk to me about respect in my own house. You're all the same, you, your mother, that boy. Disrespectful, ungrateful bastards, the lot of you. Don't know why I stick around. And you, throwing all of my hard work back in my face, failing your classes? I'm embarrassed to call you my kid." Alex's heart sunk at his dad's words, the words scarily reminiscent of the speech he'd recieved when he came out. Becca clenched her fists and grit her teeth. So much for best birthday yet. "God, I'm so sick of you treating us like this! I try my ass off, dad, but it's never good enough! You've stopped acknowledging Alex's existence all together. He's still your son! Just because he'd rather kiss guys, doesn't make him any less Alex than he was before. He deserves better than you." Graham was seething, stalking towards Becca with his empty beer bottle in hand. "Shut up, little girl. No-one cares what you have to say." Becca scoffed and drew back her shoulders, standing up tall. "You know what? Yeh, they do. And one day, you're gonna realise that. And then you'll be sor-" She was cut off by a sickening crack, and Alex jumped into the kitchen just in time to find Graham standing over Becca's kneeling form, her forehead cradled in her hands. Blood was seeping through her fingers, and Alex noticed the shattered beer bottle with a look of horror. "Get out." Graham was in shock, looking at the blood dripping onto his kitchen floor. He looked up at Alex, almost afraid. "Get out. You heard me." He fumbled for his keys, and ran past the Mercer kids, not sparing Becca a second glance as she whimpered quietly. Alex listened for the sound of tires against the gravel, and felt his shoulders relax as the familiar crunch sounded through the house. He fell to his knees and placed his hands on Becca's shoulders. "Bex? Bex look at me. Let me see. Bex?" Becca groaned and looked up slightly, wincing as her hand brushed against her forehead. She pulled her fingers away, and Alex hissed as he saw the nasty gash across her forehead. He struggled not to panic, forcing down the overwhelming sense of terror in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he reached out for her hands, helping her to her feet.  "Fuck. Okay, come on, up you get. We gotta get you to the hospital." Becca leaned on Alex heavily as he helped her out the door, folding over in her seat when they reached the car. Alex watched her out the corner of his eye, clenching and unclenching his fists around the steering wheel. Becca's whimpers were only just audible, her shoulders trembling slightly. He was grateful for that at least- the only thought circling his head was the fear she might pass out.

They pulled up to the hospital, and Alex wasted no time, helping Becca out of the car and through the front doors, his hand round her waist. "Hey, is our mom working?" The receptionist looked up at him in surprise, taking in Becca's appearance. "Another skating accident honey? We told you to start wearing a helmet after the last one, didn't we?" Alex bit his tongue, remembering their last visit to the hospital 6 months ago, when Becca had needed stitches after being thrown down the stairs like a rag doll by their dad. The feeling in his stomach that night, seeing her body lying at the bottom of the stairwell, sprawled out, while blood trickled down her forehead, was one he'd never forget. She'd been knocked unconscious, and for a moment, Alex had feared the worst. But luckily having a mom for a doctor came in handy sometimes, and she'd gotten them straight to the hospital, with strict instructions to call it a skating accident. Alex was tempted to tell the truth, but wasn't given the chance, as Becca smiled weakly and nodded. "Yeah, sorry Naomi. I thought I'd be fine but, guess not!" The dark haired woman shook her head fondly, and brushed down her purple scrubs, before picking up the phone and dialling a number. "Hi, is Julia there? Can you tell her her kids are down here? Her daughter needs some stitches by the looks of things." Becca leant into Alex, his arm now wrapped protectively around her shoulder. Naomi set the phone down and looked at the two of them with kind eyes. "Go to room 211- your mom will meet you there. And, by the way, happy birthday sweetheart!" Becca forced a smile to the kind nurse, before turning away with Alex, and stumbling down the corridor, biting back her tears. As soon as the door was shut, she folded over and started moaning, clutching her forehead desperately. Alex stepped forward and rubbed her back, pulling her hair back and tying it with a scrunchie she had round her wrist. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight, guiding her to the bed and sitting her down. "I don't know where you find the guts to stand up to him, Bex. He always manages to hurt you." Becca sniffled, and leaned into her brother, releasing her forehead and feeling the warm blood trickle slowly down her temple, already sticky. "I'm sick of him treating us like this, Alex. Why are we never enough?" He bit his lip, and felt tears well up in his eyes. "I don't know, Bex. I really don't know." They sat in silence for a few more minutes, Becca's occasional whimpers the only sound in the room.

"Oh my god, Rebecca, what happened?" Julia came rushing in, and placed a hand on either side of her daughter's face, lifting it gently. The entire right side of Becca's face was covered with a light coating of blood, and her eye was screwed shut, blood coating her lashes. She sighed, and stroked her forehead, glancing at Alex. "He did this, didn't he." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, and she continued stroking Becca's hair as she spoke, making a noise like an injured puppy when Alex nodded. "I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there." Becca shook her head, wincing as she did so. "Keep still. Let's get that sorted." Alex watched with a heavy heart as Julia fetched a suture kit, flinching everytime Becca whimpered at the new sutures. As she washed off the blood with an alcohol wipe, he felt angry tears rise to the surface, the bruise and swelling around his little sister's eye already painfully obvious. Julia pressed a kiss to her youngest child's forehead, before looking to Alex, who had his arms crossed over his chest, his body language radiating anger. "Alexander, hon, can you take her home? She should be fine. I don't want people asking questions." Alex scoffed and shook his head at her. "Really? What if she's got a concussion?" Julia sighed and peeled her gloves off, trying not to look at the red stain of her daughter's blood all over them. "Alex, please. Just do as your told." Becca looked pleadingly at her brother, wincing as she ran a finger over the bumpy stitches in her forehead. It was a nasty cut. About 4 inches wide, and pretty deep, she was going to have a beauty of a scar. "Fine. Come on, Bex." Alex reached a hand out to her, and sent one final disapproving look at his mom, before guiding Becca along the corridor with their hands intertwined. "I promise, Bex, if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna get you out of there." Becca laughed mirthlessly, waving as they passed Naomi. "Bye honey, I don't wanna see you in here for at least another 6 months, you hear me?" Becca smiled forcefully, before disappearing into the carpark, tucked under her older brother's arm. They got home, and Alex went straight to the kitchen, running a cold towel under the tap. "Here, hold that over it." Becca took a seat at the kitchen table, pointedly avoiding looking at the collection of beer bottles on the table. She watched as Alex soaked another cloth, before kneeling down and collecting the shattered glass from the floor. Binning it, he returned to the floor, grimacing as he started wiping the red splatters off of the tiles. He scrubbed furiously, until he let out a pained groan, and slumped onto the floor, leaning his back against the fridge. Becca ran to him, holding him as he cried, letting her own tears fall. "How many times am I going to have to clean your blood of the floor, Bex?" Becca felt a tear drip off the end of her nose, and ran a hand through Alex's hair. Just over 6 months ago, they'd been in almost this exact situation, only there had been a lot less blood and glass to clean up. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" Alex nodded at his little sister's request, finding her hand and squeezing it tight.

The next morning met the Mercer kids with a silent house, a clear sign that neither their mom or dad was home. Alex rolled over and looked at his little sister, fast asleep with the covers pulled up under her chin, her hair spread across his pillow. She looked so peaceful, the ugly black of her stitches covered by her hair, and it was almost possible to imagine her as any other 16 year old girl, about to wakeup and go to school as she should, to then come home, and go out for her first driving lesson. But of course, the reality was not quite like that. She woke up not long after him, and after accepting a much needed hug for 5 minutes, legged it to the bathroom, closely tailed by Alex, who held back her hair as she vomited for 20 minutes straight. Totally wiped out, she groaned, before feeling Alex pull her against his chest, holding her tightly and rocking her back and forth in his arms. "How you feeling?" Becca groaned in response, resting her head against her brother's shoulder. They were leaning against the bathroom wall, Becca sitting in between Alex's legs with her head on his shoulder, carefully avoiding her stitches. They sat in silence, staring at the wall with blank expressions. There was nothing to be said.

Alex stirred eventually, pushing Becca off him gently, and helping her to her feet. "You need to eat. Cmon, I'll make something." Becca nodded, and walked over to the sink to get her toothbrush. "I'll be down in a bit." Once Alex left, she turned the faucet off, and looked at herself in the mirror. She ran a finger over the jagged black stitches, and touched the skin around them, wincing. A nasty bruise was already forming around them, and she knew she was going to have a killer migraine for the next few days. Becca touched the scar above her eyebrow, only an inch or so below the new stitches, and smiled sadly. Another one to add to the collection. She dropped her hands to her sides, rolling up her hoodie sleeve. She ran her right hand over the small collection of white and purple marks on her left wrist, frowning. Skating accident didn't quite cover these ones. She pulled her sleeve back down, rubbing her arm. Once again meeting her own eyes in the mirror, she drew her shoulders back, and sniffed. She was going to be okay. She had to be.

The smell of burnt toast carried up the stairs, and Becca laughed as she walked into the kitchen, finding Alex standing over a stack of charred bread, a hopeless frown on his face. "Leave it. I'll just have cereal." Alex groaned and jumped onto the counter, swinging his legs as she got the milk from the fridge. He reached in to the top cupboard, and held his hand out toward's Becca, who glared at him, and shook her head. "No, Alex." He raised his eyebrows at her and jumped down, setting the orange bottle down next to the orange juice he'd left out for her. "Take them, I don't care what you've got to say. Just do as your told." His voice told her not to argue, and she groaned, but unscrewed the cap and swallowed back two pills, gagging, before sticking her tongue out at Alex. "You done torturing me for the day?" Alex rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair, pointing to the milk. "Eat. I'm going downstairs." He shoved his hands in his pockets and left the kitchen, stopping outside the door for a moment to make sure she was actually eating. Satisfied after hearing her grab a bowl, he continued on his way down the hall, opening the door to the basement and disappearing down the stairs. The basement had been Alex's sanctuary for years, his safe space, his only escape from his parents. When he came out, he'd basically moved in, only coming out at night to go to his room. They'd soundproofed it when he picked up the drums, turning it into a sort of studio, so that he could go mental without disturbing the entire neighbourhood. His anxiety had been okay recently- it had been months since he'd had an attack. As Becca and their dad started fighting more and more, he'd felt his chest getting tighter and tighter, ready to snap. Becca was the only thing keeping him going. He knew he couldn't break while she was still at home, he had to have his head screwed on straight so he could keep her safe. One more year, that's all she needed, and then she could get to college, and she'd be safe. Their dad was terrifying. But he was also the only person in the world that Alex would stand up to- because he'd do anything not to see his little sister get hurt.

Becca cracked open the door to the basement, and sighed as she heard Alex going at it, fill after fill after fill. She knew he was hurting, and she knew it hurt him to see her hurting. But there wasn't much either of them could do about it. They'd just have to stick it out for a little longer. She pushed the door shut with a click, and ran upstairs, settling down at her desk. She had multiple pieces of homework due by the end of the week, and an impromptu day off meant she'd have lots more to catch up on the next day. But the minute she opened her history textbook, and started to scan the page, her mind started reeling, and she had to clutch her head with her eyes closed in an effort for the dizziness to go away. "Well that's a no to that then." She sighed and closed her textbook, collapsing onto her bed instead. The house was silent, Alex's frantic drumming silenced by the soundproof walls in the basement. Becca fiddled with her fingers, looking around her walls. The usual urge to suddenly change and redecorate the entire room was more dull than it normally was, almost like it was blurry, not quite defined. Her mind was reeling, struggling to work out reality and her thoughts. She groaned and buried her face in her pillow. She almost preffered the constant talking in her head to this. This feeling of uncertainty, not being able to tell the real from the fake. She was going insane.

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Title: Somethings Work Out For The Best

Gif credit @sofuckingchuffed

Requested on wattpad

Crossover between Chicago PD and The tv show 911 (Eddie Diaz)

Happy reading dollies

Taglist: @nocturnalherb16. @jesseswartzwelder

Jay groaned as he sat up in bed, he looked around and saw he wasn't in his apartment. The girl snoozing beside him was the girl he met the night before at the bar, they both were completely trashed when they came back to her place. Jay grabbed his phone out of his pocket seeing his missed thirteen calls and twenty missed texts from you. All asking if he was okay since he just disappeared that day.

He didn't bother waking the girl, he threw on his clothes and left heading to work. Stopping by the coffeehouse near the station.

As he walked up the steps Erin was on the phone as she was talking to you. You called them to see where he was but no one knew or they didn't have the courage to tell you he was cheating.

"He just walked in, Y/N. I'll let him know". She hung up and ambushed Jay at his desk.

"What the hell are you playing at"? She growled her hands on her hips.

"Well hello to you too". Jay chuckled, falling into his seat holding his head as his hangover was taking over.

"Cut the shit. You need to call Y/N, she's worried sick about you".

"She's pregnant".

"I know. That's why what you are doing to her is so fucked up".

"I'm not ready to be a dad. I can't".

"You're an idiot. Call her". Erin slammed Jay's desk phone in front of him, storming off.

Jay sighed and picked up the phone dailing your number. He waited for you to pick up.

"Jay"? You answered.

"Yeah".

"Are you okay? I was worried sick about you".

"I was out".

"I called everyone in that unit and they said they haven't see you since you got off work. Dont lie".

"Alright. I was with a girl". Jay ran his hand down his face as he heard your sobs.

"When you come home I won't be here". That was the last thing you said after hanging up. Jay was slightly relieved but was torn. He didn't want to hurt you but he knew this was the only way to get out of this situation.

He was right, you packed your car until there was no more room. You were heading back to your parents, in LA. They had moved there for retirement and when they heard you were pregnant they wanted you to live close by so they got their wish as well.

Things changed for the better, you knew you could do this alone. There was no doubt about that. Jay was just in your way of being happy.

Two years later...

After a years away Erin begged you to come visit. She also wanted to see her niece. She looked just like you when she was born. You named her Cody. She was a little ball of fun energy, keeping you on your toes all the time.

So you decided to go back to Chicago and stay for awhile but you didn't tell her you were bringing a surprise.

"Y/N Y/L/N get your cute butt over here". Erin squealed as she saw you walking up the stairs to the cpd. Cody on your hip.

"Awww, she's adorable". Erin cood.

"Thanks. Say hi". You told Cody,  she hid her face in your chest.

"She's to cute. So how long are you staying"?

"A week".

"Just a week? Really"? She pouted, sticking out her bottom lip.

"Yeah, Eddie has to get back to work".

Her eyes grew wide and she looked star struck. "Eddie? Who's Eddie"?

"My fiance". You held out your hand and showed her the ring.

"Hold up. You got a boyfriend and now you're engaged? What"?

"Eddie"? You called and a very handsome man came running up the stairs.

"Sorry I was talking to Trudy. Hi, I'm Eddie Diaz". He stuck out his hand for Erin. She gladly shook it with a smirk.

"Damn. You got yourself a nice one here". Erin and you laughed which made Eddie blush.

"Where's everyone"?

"On a case. I was told to stay and handle the phones".

"Oh so you got into trouble with Voight"?

"No". You tilted your head as you knew she was lying.

"Fine. Yes I am in trouble". She laughed.

"So. Um. How's Jay"?

"Good. He's gotten his act together since you left".

"Good. That's good. I'm happy for him".

"Alright, enough talk about us. Tell me how you met". She said excitingly grabbing a chair and sitting down in front of you.

"Well, I was in labor and I called 911 since I was alone. He came to help".

"You're a paramedic"?

"No a firefighter. I was a army medic when I served. Usually when there's a 911 call the fire station goes as well. So that's how we met". Eddie smiled looking at you.

"Cute. He saw your goodies before the first date". Erin snickered at her own joke. You playfully slapped her. Eddie chuckled.

"Stop. He didn't deliver Cody, he helped by holding my hand but he didn't see anything".

"Right".

"You need to behave".

"Alright continue".

"After Cody was here, he visited us and we became friends then he asked me out a month later. About a month ago he asked me to marry him".

"Congratulations, that's amazing. I'm happy for you".

"Thank you. We've set a date and everyones invited. Cody is the flower girl and Eddie's son Christopher will be the ring bearer".

"Wait, you have a son"?

"I do, with my ex wife".

"You've been married before"?

"Yes. I know what I did to mess that up and I'm not doing that to Y/N".

"Good. I won't hesitate to shoot you". Erin warned.

"Y/N"!! You heard Adam yell. Turning around Adam had his arms wide open for you to hug him. You smiled and gave him a big hug.  Cody didn't want anything to do with her crazy uncle.

"When did you get in"?

"Just now. We've been interrogated by Erin". You laughed.

"We"? Adam looked over your shoulder and saw Eddie.

"My fiance, Eddie. He's a firefighter in LA. Erin loves him".

"Yeah. Excuse me". Adam walked over to Eddie and started talking to him. In a matter of minutes they were laughing and cutting up.

The whole unit came in and saw you there. They were happy you were back. Jay, of course stayed his distance. He kinda had a attitude the whole time you were there. So you figure you had to get it over with.

"Hey Jay". You came over to his desk while the others talked.

"Hi". He seemed cold towards you.

"How are you"?

"Fine".

"I didn't come back here to make you jealous or for you to get mad. I came to see my friends".

"Why did you bring him"?

"I'm with him and I wanted everybody to meet him before our wedding".

"So it's true? You're getting married"?

"Yes. I love him. He's great with Cody and she loves him too".

"Cody, that's what you named her"?

"Yeah, didn't you get the pictures I sent you or the letters? I told Erin to tell you as well".

"I threw them away. Erin didn't tell me. This is all news to me".

"Are you really that cold that you didn't want to see your daughter"?

"No. I'm just feeling guilty for screwing up. I did everything that I said I would never do. I abandoned my kid, the girl that I once loved. I threw it all away over my selfishness".

"Jay, I'm sorry".

"It's okay. Not your fault, not your life".

"Do you want to get to know her? Maybe not as daddy but maybe uncle Jay"?

"Cody calls him daddy"?

"Sometimes, he has been in her life since the beginning. She loves his son and his family. Eddie's grandmother thinks as her as her great grandchild".

"Uncle Jay. I could do that". He said with a smile. Jay didn't want to confuse Cody since Eddie was already apart of her life and he wasn't. But you went with it and called over Eddie who had Cody and introduced Jay to her. They seemed to hit it off well. Jay stepped up as uncle.

During the week you were there Cody followed Jay around like a duckling. He told her things about Chicago and things about you that only Jay would know. He was enjoying the role of uncle and babysitter. Jay and you were even starting to get along better.

[holdin-out-for-a-hero]

Rookie- Leon Kennedy X Reader Ch.13 part 1

Warnings: none

A/N: this chapter was so long that tumblr couldn’t handle it. Anyways, thank you all for reading, I’m gonna make a long gushy post about this series ending.

Hanging up the phone, you wiped the tears from your eyes. You just had to make the hardest phone call ever. Telling your brother that your parents were dead was not something you ever expected to do. And to be speechless when he asked "how, why?"

You told him it was a virus that brought down the city, but didn't mention the zombies. He couldn't handle knowing that, if he even believed it in the first place.

You turned back around at the three others sharing your hotel room, and they all looked away as if they hadn't heard a thing you just said on the call. They really sucked at acting.

You went to the bathroom to calm down. Splashing cold water on your face, you hoped it would alleviate the redness on your nose and around your eyes. You held onto the sink, closing your eyes and taking a few breaths. Even though you were out of raccoon city, out of danger, you weren't out of the words just yet. You had a feeling that no matter how much time had passed, you would never be done with raccoon city. But you didn't want to think about that. Once your face had returned to a normal color, you stepped out of the bathroom.

Just as you entered the room, there was a knock at the door. Claire opened the door to see the woman from the front desk.

"I thought you all might want to look through this," the woman began, entering your room without permission and laying a box onto one of the beds, "This is the lost and found bin. Feel free to keep whatever you want, it's been collecting dust for years. You all need it more than anybody."

You looked down at your clothes and knew what she meant.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it," she said, making her way to the door, "if you need anything, let me know."

"Oh!" Claire got the woman's attention, "We could use some more of those little soaps and towels!"

The woman nodded, and turned around, before turning back and saying, "And be careful, there might be some freaky stuff in there. None of us employees have the nerve to go through it." How reassuring, you thought. The woman then left.

And with that, you, Leon, and Claire began looking through the box. While there were a few nasty things, there was some good stuff too. There were a lot of large shirts, perfect for sleeping in and just long enough that you'd be ok if you couldn't find any pants. There was one pair that could possibly fit you, but you let Claire have them because you already picked out a shirt that went down to your knees. Leon was having a much easier time with this, as most of the clothing actually fit him. The issue for all of you, though, was undergarments. This wasn't a wardrobe, this was just a collection of items left behind, so there weren't many options. There were no bras, but you figured a tank top under the T-Shirt might make it a little less obvious that you didn't have one on. At least you hoped that would work.

You held up a pair of lacy underwear with your index finger, eyebrows raising. Claire laughed.

"It's an option," you said.

"You seriously considering it?" She asked.

"Yes I am, I've been stuck in the same pair all week. I have no other option. Unless of course you want them."

"I'd rather go commando."

Claire sifted through the box a little more, then lifted her hands, giving up.

"Screw it, that's what I'm gonna do!"

Leon lifted up a large pair of dirty boxer briefs, dropping them back down with a scowl on his face.

"Me too."

You laughed quietly; you never thought you would have this conversation, especially with two people who were basically strangers. But the three of you have been through too much for anything to be awkward anymore.

The woman once again bust into your room, towels in her hand this time. You panicked and dropped the lacy underwear in your hands, earning another laugh from Claire and Leon.

She gave you a weird look before dropping the towels and soaps on the bed, too, before making her leave.

"Who gets the shower first?" Leon asked, unknowingly creating tension between the three of you. Claire looked to you, then to Leon, and then to Sherry.

"Sherry," she said, and you all could agree on that.

"When was the last time each of you showered? Cause I haven't showered since the 22nd" you said, raising a brow. As it was now the 30th, you figured you had won second place.

"You go next," Claire sighed. She then looked to Leon.

"Ladies first," he smiled at her. So it was settled, Sherry would go first, then you, then Claire, and then Leon.

Sherry went to take her shower, while Leon and Claire dug into some of the food you had just bought. You didn't realize how hungry you were until Leon opened a bag of chips, and as if on cue, your stomach growled.

"Hand me the bag," you said to Leon. He lifted up his chip bag to you. "No, I mean the grocery bag."

He leaned over the table to grab it and handed it to you, and you thanked him. So, your first meal in a long time was a stick of beef jerky and a little Debbie snack cake. How nutritious. Still, it was satisfying to your starving stomach. So you, Leon, and Claire made a full meal out of gas station garbage food, quickly depleting the bag of its contents. You all had to stop yourselves, though, so that Sherry would have some too.

Claire moved from her place at the table and moved to a spot on the bed next to you, turning on the TV.

"I hope something good is on," she said to herself. You watched silently as she flipped though the channels, eyes widening once she passed the news channel.

"Go back," you said, getting closer to the tv. She did as you told her, though confused.

"Congress has decided to send a missile to end the deadly viral outbreak in Raccoon city," A news reporter said. Then, it cut to a press conference, where an important politician made a statement.

"This decision was not an easy one, but in order to ensure the safety of the rest of the nation, we are doing what has to be done."

You stood frozen, as did Claire and Leon, who had just tuned in. The air in the room was thick, so thick that you couldn't take a big enough breath. Your hands started to shake in front of you, so you balled them into fists to hide it. Luckily for you, though, Sherry opened the bathroom door and walked out; it was your turn now, and you wasted no time to get behind the safety of the bathroom door so that they wouldn't see you break down. You closed the door a little too loud behind you, cursing to yourself because you didn't mean to draw so much attention to yourself.

You turned on the water and stripped yourself of the dirty clothes that clung to your skin. You looked down at the pile below you: you would definitely be throwing those away. After that thought, you mind went back to what was plaguing it.

You couldn't believe it. While you understood it and knew it had to be done, you just couldn't accept that Raccoon City would be no more. Your hometown was gonna get blown off the map.

You stepped into the shower, barely feeling the scalding hot water on your skin.

Your friends, family, colleagues: dust in the wind.

You sat down on the floor of the tub, watching the water around you turn muddy.

The playgrounds you used to love as a kid, the stores you shopped at, places you visited: all gone.

You wanted to scream, to let out those emotions constantly bubbling up in your chest, but you couldn't. Not with Claire and Leon and Sherry so near. You had to be strong, you were the oldest, the most experienced. You couldn't break down. Not yet. But it was so hard to keep it in once you knew that every aspect of your past, your life, would be wiped clean.

Just like your body in this shower, your entire life was washing away in front of you. There was no way to stop it, though. And pretty soon, your emotions shut down. You've never been more thankful for numbness in your life. It helped you focus on the task at hand, washing your hair, then your wounds, and then the rest of your body.

You knew you couldn't stay in the shower forever; Leon and Claire still had to go, and you didn't want to steal them of hot water. You turned the shower off, and stepped out onto the floor mat. Drying your body off, you wondered how long it had been since your skin was clean. It had been at least a week, you thought, and you wondered how Leon could have ever been attracted to you with you smelling like sweat and blood. Maybe because he started smelling like sweat and blood, too.

You looked down at the clothes below you. You had grabbed a tank top, a very large t-shirt, and the lacy underwear. Someone else's lacy underwear. You debated what was worse: wearing someone else's clean lingerie or your own underwear that you had worn all week. Neither choice was a winning option, but you opted for the stranger's underwear, as it was actually clean. If you had found a pair of pants, you would've gone commando, but that wasn't really an option. You slid them on along with the tank top.

Studying your bite in the mirror, you were so thankful to be immune. You remembered a document from umbrella's lab, it said that approximately 10% of the population was naturally immune to the virus. And you were lucky enough to be one of those people. But so many other people were not as lucky.

The bite didn't look too bad anymore and didn't need to be covered with a bandage, so you slid on the long T-Shirt. You were right, it did go below your knees. You looked down at your legs, and then to the bite on your calf; it had healed up so much that it barely looked like a bite anymore, it looked more like a scrape, which meant you wouldn't scare anybody with it.

You dried your hair and face with the towel, working up the courage to leave the bathroom. You did have an accidentally dramatic exit, so you knew it would be awkward. Still, you had to bite the bullet. Hanging up the towel and picking up your clothes, you headed out the door.

"So, should we make a dirty clothes pile?" You asked, trying to sound as casual as you could. They were still glued to the TV, but Claire snapped out of it and showed you the hamper that was in the closet.

"You're up," you said to her.

"You saved me some hot water, right?" She asked, her smile, though, seemed fake.

"I'm not evil."

She laughed, and headed towards the bathroom.

You sat down next to Sherry on the bed that she and Claire would share. She was watching the TV as well, eyes glued to it just like Leon. It was still the news, and the story was still Raccoon City.

"When's it gonna happen?" You asked Leon.

"Tomorrow at noon," he said, his voice muffled because his jaw rested on his hand.

"Do you mind if we turn this off," you asked. You didn't want to hear anymore and you had a feeling Sherry didn't either. She was like you in that she had her whole life in Raccoon city.

Leon looked over to you and sherry, noticing the same expression on both of your faces. Was it grief? Fear? Disbelief? He couldn't tell. He flipped through the channels until he found something more Sherry-friendly, finally settling on cartoons.

The feeling of dread came back; you knew you were not out of the woods yet. Something was about to happen, and you felt it. You just had no idea what that event would be. But you felt it in your bones. You remembered the flash drive, still tucked into your wallet. An instinct told you to hide it, to make sure it doesn't get into the wrong hands. Again, you didn't know why, you didn't even know who would count as the wrong hands. You just knew that it wasn't safe in your hands. At least not now.

Then you had an idea, but it was a risk, and it wouldn't be the permanent hiding place for the flashdrive. Still, you figured no one would find it for a while. You spotted the lost and found box, it's mildly disturbing contents displayed in their fully glory. The woman who brought it in said she never looked in it, you figured no one else would, either.

You stood up, grabbing the box and putting it on the table. Then, you took the flash drive from your wallet and put it in the pocket of a shirt and wrapped it into a ball. You stuck it at the bottom of the box. You then situated the clothes on top, making sure the nastiest, most questionable things were on full display so that no one would have the nerve to go through it.

"Do you think we're done with this?" You asked Leon. He looked up from the TV again.

"Think so," he began, "I certainly don't want to touch anything in that box again."

"I don't want to keep looking at it either, I'll take it back to the front desk," you replied. Holding the box against your hip, you opened the front door and walked out into the open air. The sun was now setting, casting a beautiful glow along the plains around you. The late-September chill was finally catching up to the area, making your bare-legged self speed walk to the lobby. You opened the door, smiling at the woman at the front desk, before putting the box on the counter, saying a brief thanks, and leaving.

As you re-entered the room, you noticed Claire had finished her shower and put her clothes in the hamper on top of yours. Leon had entered the bathroom now, and you could hear the shower running again through the wall.

Leon must have known that since he was the last one to shower, he could take his time. And that's exactly what he did. He took so long, in fact, that you forgot he was still in the bathroom, and you, needing to pee, walked in.

You opened the door and took a step inside before you froze at the sight of Leon. From the other room, Claire tried to warn you but it was too late. He had his pants on, thank God, but you still caught him shirtless.

"Im so sorry!" You said, hand over your mouth. You were sure your face was bright red. You turned back to walk out.

"Wait," he said. You looked back at him, confused. "Can you help me with my shoulder? I'm having trouble wrapping it one-handed."

So you stayed in the cramped, steamy bathroom with him. He leaned against the sink while you blotted his bullet wound with disinfectant. You remembered when he got shot, all the emotions that went through your head as you watched him writhe in pain. The panic must have kept you from thinking straight, because you never checked to see if the bullet went through or if it was still imbedded in his shoulder. You turned his back slightly to look, and luckily there was an exit wound. When you got to cleaning the back, though, he winced under your touch.

"You ok?" You asked, pulling the pad of alcohol away from his skin.

"I'm fine," he said, "But you could kiss it better." The man turned to watch your expression, that stupid smirk on his face again.

And you, being completely burnt out, thought that was the funniest thing you had ever heard.

"Your bullet wound?" You said between giggles, "You want me to kiss your bullet wound? Will that make it all better?"

"Actually, I think I know of a better place for that kiss to go," he said, leaning forward.

"Really? And where's that?" You asked. He tapped his lips. You pulled away.

"Let me finish your shoulder, first. Then I'll see what I can do."

The man pouted as you turned him once again and grabbed the role of gauze. You began wrapping the bandages around his shoulder. This time was much different than the first time, though, because this time you weren't sobbing your eyes out and Ada wasn't judging you the whole time. Once his shoulder was wrapped, you placed a kiss on top of the bandage.

Leon cleared his throat, tapping his lips once again. Your rolled your eyes, but relented.

Your lips met his again, gentle and slow as ever. He grabbed you by your waist, pulling you closer, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You knew that man had you whipped. As you separated, Leon took your arm.

"And how's your shoulder?" He asked.

"It's not that deep of a wound, actually. It barely broke the skin," you showed him the bite wound, which was mostly a bruise now, there were a few scabbed places, though.

"How about your stomach?"

"Same thing, wasn't that deep," you said, almost lifting your shirt up to show him until your remembered that you only had a lacy thong underneath. Thank God you caught yourself, he’d didn’t need to see all that just yet...

"Hey, uh, I don't want to interrupt anything but Sherry needs to get in there," Claire said from behind the door.

The two of you walked out of the bathroom, trying, and failing, to act as if nothing had happened.

Although it was only around eight when everyone was done showering, the hectic night before combined with the lack of sleep and adrenal fatigue meant you all were too exhausted to stay up any longer. It was probably the earliest you'd ever gone to sleep, you thought, yet you were so relieved for it. And even though all four of you would later fight nightmares, insomnia, and varying degrees of PTSD, this night was perfectly peaceful. For the last time in your life, sleep came easily.

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found (chapter 9)

Warnings: there’s filth below. Utter filth.  Tyler smut. Because that’s what we deserve.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007 @hemmyworthy

They make love. Slow.  Intense. As if their bodies and the sighs and moans of pleasure are somehow enough to convey the thoughts and the feelings that neither have the ability...or the courage...to express.

Like a long goodbye, Esme thinks, and has to screw her eyes tightly shut to rid herself of the thought and of the tears that threaten.

Afterwards she clings to him. Desperate to keep him inside of her. Her body accepting the full weight of his; fingertips and palms gliding over his arms, across his shoulders and down his back.  Tracing every line of the Nordic tattoo.  Finding his scars.  As if committing every inch of him to memory.

There's so much she wants to say, but simply can't find the courage to. Getting the words out in the open means you can never take them back. They're out there. In the universe. Lingering like a foul stench or a bad omen.  She's weak. Emotionally and mentally spent. So she hopes the soft caresses and the languid exploration does all the talking for her.

She despises the sense of doom that comes with that last kiss her gives her before pulling away.  His eyes locked on hers, a sad smile playing on his lips as she cradles his face in her hands.  Brushing her knuckles along his beard,  using a fingertip to trace the scar that spreads over the bridge of his nose, then the one that takes up residence on the left side of his forehead. Her eyes find the one on his neck. The one that was a lasting remembrance of the day she nearly lost him.  She looks away; eyes finding his face once again. And she pushes a hand through his hair. Tugging at the longer strands at the top and pulling his head back.

“I know,” he says. Voice low. Rumbling deep within his chest.  “I know.”

*****

Later he lies on his back, a forearm across his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. Listening to her soft breathing and the sounds of the apartment in the middle of the night; the settling of pipes, the distant drip of the kitchen tap, the neighbours shuffling around overhead.

He can't sleep. His body in agony.  His mind on edge.

“Tyler?” her voice, soft and tiny, snaps his eyes open. She lies on her side, back towards him.  Long dark hair fanned out along the crisp white pillow case.

He stretches out an arm, reaching for her. Palm coming to rest on her back.  There's an overwhelming need to touch her. To stay touching her. It's desperate. All consuming. The irrational fear of if he stops touching her, she'll slip away.  If he can feel her skin, feel the way her body rises and falls with each breath she takes, then she's still there. Right there in front of him.

“Yeah?” he responds.

“What are you thinking about?”

She knows him so well.  Better than he knows himself sometimes.  She senses when  he is struggling. Whether it be physically or mentally. And he's thankful for that. It makes the burdens he carries a little easier to bear.

“Christmas,” he says, and she casts a glance over her shoulder.

“What?”

“Christmas. I was thinking about Christmas. It will be the baby's first. I was thinking about how it would be nice if we went and visited your family. I want to meet them. And your mom deserves to meet her grand daughter.”

He's had a handful of conversations with his mother in law. She doesn't like him.  He's the one that had taken her baby girl away. He was responsible for breaking up the family unit.  It didn't matter that he'd also played a part in giving her a grand kid. Right now her need to hate him overpowered anything else.   The old man was a different story.  He seemed to get it.  He seemed have a better grasp on what had happened. On why Esme had made the decisions she did.

“Sometimes we do crazy shit because we're in in love,” he'd reasoned once. “And trust me, son, this isn't the craziest shit I've heard about.”

Tyler knew his tune would change when...if...the full truth ever came out.

She moves beside him,  rolling over onto her back.  “Are you being serious right now?”

He nods, and once more reaches for her. There it is again.  The agonizing need to keep a hold on her. As if something...or someone...was waiting in the shadows to snatch her away from him. His hand finds hers; entwining their fingers together, squeezing harder than he needs to.

“You gave up everything...everyone...to stay here with me. It's only right that I meet them. By then we'll both be out of the game. We'll have a normal life. We'll be doing normal things.”

“Whatever normal is,” she muses.

“I'll have to get a job.”

“Doing what?”

“I have no clue,” he admits.

Truth be told, he'd never thought he'd live long enough where venturing down another career path seemed a necessity.

“Private security, maybe. Or construction.”

“I can see that already,” she says. “With your hard hat and your steel toed boots and those jeans I love the most on you. You know, the ones that are baggy and hang off your waist. I can see you all shirtless and sweaty.”

He grins.  “Is that some kind of fantasy of yours?”

“Baby, you ARE my fantasy.”

He smiles and brings their joined hands to his lips; pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“What do we tell them?” she inquires.  “About what we've been up to? They're going to want to know. I can't keep dodging the questions. It's getting harder and harder to lie. To remember what I've already told them.”

“You tell them that you met me when you were here on a business trip. That you seduced me.”

A derisive snort. “Give me a break. You seduced me. With your stupid handsome face and your stupid beautiful eyes and your stupid sexy voice.”

“I thought it was the muscles.”

She heaves a long, content sigh. “Those too. Definitely those too.”

“Just tell them that I got you drunk and took advantage of you.”

“Oh yeah, right...” she laughs. “...that would go over well.”

“I don't know. Tell them that we met and you didn't know how to say no. That you fell into my bed and never left.”

“As much as that last part is true,  that is not something I can tell my mother.”

“So we stick to the story they already know. You met me, we fell in love, you decided to stick around. There's no need for much detail. Just that you stayed and I got into an accident and you nursed me back to health. That's it. Then we got married. Had a baby.”

“My mom is still bent out of shape that we never told her we were getting married in the first place.  I guess she feels robbed. She didn't get to do the whole mother of the bride thing. What does it matter? She has another daughter.”

“Well, you were the first girl,” he reasons. “And people have second weddings all the time,” he reasons. “Tell her that.  That that's something we could do. It's not the same but it might make her hate me less.”

“She doesn't hate you, Tyler. She just doesn't know you.”

“Do you really want her to?”

“Why wouldn't I? You're a great husband. You're an even better father. You're my best friend. My lover. My confidant. Why wouldn't I want her to know you?”

“I don't mean that Tyler. I mean the other Tyler.  Like you said, I can't pretend he doesn't exist.  That he still isn't part of me. Do you really want her knowing that part? Do you really want her knowing what I do? What I'm capable of?”

“It's a messy thing to get into. But you shouldn't be ashamed of it.”

“You know the things I've done. You've seen the things I can do.  That's the stuff nightmares are made of.”

“But you've also done a lot of good things. You've helped a lot of people. You've saved them.  You nearly killed yourself doing it, but you still did it.  You have a big heart, Tyler. You hide it from everyone else, but I know it's in there.  I know what you're capable of. Good and bad.  You have a lot of love inside of you for someone who has done the things you've done. Look at the way you love me. Look  at the way you love our daughter. Look at the way you love Ovi.  You're not a bad person, Tyler. You're a good person who has done bad things.  To bad people who deserve bad things happening to them. I mean, you even mourned for Gaspar even though he betrayed you and turned out  to be a complete fucking tool.”

His thumb brushes over hers, then along the base of her fingers. Her hands are soft. Tiny. Especially compared to his.”What about Austin?” he asks, and he feels her hand tighten around his.  “He was a good person. He was pure and innocent and good and I did a horrible thing to him.”

“You can't hate yourself forever. You just can't.”

“I know...” he sniffles noisily, fighting to keep back the emotions. “...but I can't forget.”

“No one expects you to.  It was a difficult decision to be in. You did what you thought was the best thing to do at the time. You were scared. You didn't want to see him suffer.  And I don't blame you for that.”

“I left him,” he laments. “I left him when he needed me the most.”

“Tyler...” she pushes herself into a kneel, and he spreads his leg apart as she comes to rest on her knees between his thighs.

He likes the way her hands feel against his face. That smooth, gentle touch through his beard, the way her fingertips rub against his ears and her thumbs glide across his chin.  And he manages a small smile when one of her hand tunnels in hair and her fist gently grabs hold of it, yanking his face up towards her.

“You did what you thought was the best thing to do,” she reasons. “You made a tough decision. And yes, maybe it was the wrong decision. Maybe you should have toughed it out and hung in there and stayed by his side until the end.  But we don't all handle things the same way. You did what you did, Tyler. And now you have to come to terms with that. You need to move on.”

“You were there. For your dad. You were there and you were just a kid.”

“And look how much it fucked me up. Look how messed up I am. It screwed me up, Tyler. I was seventeen. And teenage years are hard enough at the best of times. Never mind something like that. And yeah, I'm grateful for the time we did get together. For the conversations we had. But it took something like that for those to even happen. That's my cross to bear. I took it for granted that he would always be around. I was an asshole teenager. I rebelled. I broke his heart. I pissed him off. And it took until he was dying to make amends for all the shitty things I'd said and did. I hate myself for that.”

“You shouldn't. You were a kid. Kids rebel. Kids do stupid shit.”

“I waited until it was too late to make a real difference. I thought I had so much more time and I didn't. So we both have our crosses to bear. We both hate ourselves for one thing or another. But goddammit, Tyler Rake. You enormous, insufferable pain in my ass.  I love you. I love you so much it hurts. So much I can barely breathe sometimes. And you make all that hate and all that guilt I have so much easier to bear. So you do save people. In more ways than you could ever imagine. You don't realize it, but you...saved...me...”

She's still cradling his face when she leans down to kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and she can taste the salt of his tears.  

****

His hands rest on her hips;  kneading the soft, supple flesh. And when he feels the press of her tongue against his lips, they begin their descent upwards. Sliding underneath the back of the flimsy tank top that she wears, feeling that shiver that passes through her as his calloused palms glide over her rib case, slowly moving upwards towards her breasts but then retreating, coming around to her back once more.  He pulls out of the kiss in order to watch her face; the flush in her cheeks, her widened pupils,  the way she tucks the bottom lip between her teeth.  

And he continues to watch her as he runs his fingers along her back, slowly and deliberately tracing each and every indent and bump of her spine.  Taken back to a year ago in Dhaka, in that squalid, dingy hotel room, where he'd finally let down the walls he'd built up and he  allowed someone in.  When he finally felt something other than grief and loneliness and an overwhelming urge to put a bullet in his own brain.  Two people struggling with extremely different yet eerily similar demons. Discovering among those four dirty walls and under that water stained ceiling, that they could help one another.  That maybe they could each fill the holes in one another that had long ago been abandoned.

Everything had been screaming at him to stop. That demon on his shoulder telling him that there was no way this could end well.  That he couldn't possibly ever be the man that she needed. Wanted. Deserved. That he didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve love. That he was a horrible person who'd done horrible things and nothing good ever happened to someone like that.  It wasn't the right time. Or the right place. And he'd known that. But he'd been powerless to stop it. He hadn't wanted to stop it. So he'd given in. To lust. To the power it gave him knowing that someone wanted him as badly as she did.  To that little voice that told him that maybe..just maybe....this could work. That he could fall in love her. And she with him.  That they could actually have a future.

He feels as if he's there. Back in that room. In the swelter of the Bangladesh heat.  He can hear the hustle and bustle outside of the room; blaring car horns and the shouts and chatters of people on the street.  He can once again feel the sweat on his skin; beading across his forehead, dripping from his temples, gathering at the nape of his neck.  He can smell her; not as she is now, but the smell of her then.  Of  cheap shampoo and body wash mixed with her own perspiration.  How he'd thought...at the time... that is was the most beautiful thing he'd ever smelt in his entire life.  His once emotional dead and weary body had come alive as his hands explored her ready and willing form; kisses blazing trails over each inch of her, tasting her on his lips and his tongue, driven by an overwhelming sense of urgency and need.  He even recalls how her own hands had felt; how her voice had sounded as she whispered his name. With a tortured, begging quality that he'd never heard from a woman before.  And the knowledge that she was there..wanting him as badly as he wanted her...had been too much to take.

*****

Tyler feels that now. Those same sensations that the old Tyler had felt nearly a year ago.  Every nerve ending on fire; blazing hot and growing deep in his stomach.  Shuddering as she moves against him; her legs now straddling his lap and her breasts pressed flush against his chest.   His hands move up her back; lightly and kneading her shoulders before his palms slide down that silky smooth. Their eyes never leaving one another as her grip tightens on his hair and she aggressively yanks his head backwards.   Hissing sharply as her teeth nip a path that covers the width of his collarbone,  wanders over his throat and the underside of his chin. Biting down on his bottom lip and his fingers digging into her hips her uses the tip of her tongue to trace the small red marks that her teeth that had left behind. This isn't a role she commonly plays. Domineering as opposed to being utterly submissive. She prefers the latter, and he enjoys the dom role, struggling to give up control even in their sex life.  

He temporarily hands over that power; his hands moving to her ass and squeezing and kneading the soft flesh while her grip tightens in his hair and he allows her to manipulate his head just where she wants it. The other reaches between them, and he lets out a long, low 'fuck' when her nails scrape down his chest just as the tip of her tongue traces the outer edge of his ear.  His cock already rock hard against her when he feels gentle lips against that scar on the side of the throat. That one that serves an everlasting reminder. Like a souvenir from the gift shop in hell.  And his eyes close and his head struggles to fall forward against the grip she has on his hair as her mouth furthers down onto his traps.  

“Fuck sakes,” he growls, a mixture of surprise and slight pain when her teeth bite down on that spot she always seems to find. That one that always serves as her victim.   “That's going to leave a mark.”

“Good,” she says, as her tongue travels over the tender spot. “Then everyone will know that you're mine.”

He briefly wonders if by everyone she exactly means Nik.  Just what was the issue there? What the hell had ever happened between them? He imagined if had everything do with him. His past with one and his present and future with the other. It was the elephant in the room; one made even bigger by Nik's appearance.  But then all thought of his ex conquests totally flies out the window as his wife grinds her lower body against his,  feeling  the telltale sign of her arousal; slick juices now marking his skin.

“Tyler...” she whispers, that same whisper she'd used so many months ago. When her hands had been desperately clutching at his  hair and his shoulders,  his head  buried between her legs as he used his mouth and fingers to drive her wild. And he remembers how her tone and the volume of her voice had rapidly changed. From that soft hush tone to something more needy and desperate. Escalating to a full out scream; her heels digging into the mattress and her entire body arching off the bed.  

She pulls back to look at him. Those dark eyes full of longing and desire. Her chest heaving, hair hanging loose over her shoulder and down her back. But there's something else in the way she regards him. As if her eyes are searching his for some kind of reassurance. A promise that everything is going to be okay. At this time next year, they will be here in this very bed.  No repeat of what had happened a year ago.  Just two people going on with their lives with no fear of the future. She's scared. It's right there just under the surface. Mixing in with her want and need of him.  

He never looks away from her as he runs his hands over  her hair, along her shoulders and down onto her arms. And he entwines his fingers with hers and smiles. It's shaky; giving away his own fears and his own worries. But he hopes it is enough. Prays that it's enough.

“It's going to be okay,” he vows. “I'm going to be okay. We're going to be fine.”

“Promise me you'll keep us safe. Promise me. Promise me you'll be okay.”

He knows he shouldn't.  The last time he promised her that, he'd nearly died right in front of her very eyes. But she needs to hear it.  She needs to feel safe and protected and he's the only one that can give her that.  

It's a blessing and a curse.

“I'll be okay,” he manages another feeble smile. “I won't let anything to happen to you. To our daughter.  And I'll be okay.”

“Because we kind of like having you around. I've sort of gotten used to waking up beside you every day and that sleepy smile you always give me. And I'd really miss that. I'd really miss that smile. I'd really miss so many things.”

He cradles her face in his hands, a thumb trailing over her lips.  “I'm going to be okay,” he insists, and then he kisses her, lips moving achingly slow against hers, hands moving from her face and sliding over her shoulders and down her arms, then reaching between them to find the hem of her tank top. Fingertips brushing against her skin as he peels it off of her body, tossing it onto the bed before he leans into her; his lips never leaving hers as he uses the full weight of his body to push her down onto the mattress.  He needs to feel her against him; skin to skin. He needs to be able to feel her heart beating against him.  Afraid that if he doesn't play his cards right, he may never get this chance again.

Her fingernails scrape down his back; deep enough to  break the surface and leave noticeable trails across his skin. Placing one hand on the mattress, he supports his weight with one arms as the other hand roams her body, mouth following in their wake. Soft, feathery kisses over her throat and across her collarbone, his hair tumbling into his eyes and grazing against her.

“Tyler...”

Fuck he loves the way it sounds coming out of her mouth. A soft, desperate plea as her body shifts beneath him; legs opening as his hand wanders over her thigh and then in between. Stroking the soft, supple flesh as he drops his head in order to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Rolling it around on his tongue, drawing it between his teeth, suckling gently.  And then he pulls back, blowing a steady stream of air on the moisten flesh just as he slips a finger inside of her.

She cries out, a mixture of his name and profanities, her entire body arching off the mattress.

“Shhhh...” he whispers, as his mouth and the tip of his nose travel through the valley between her breasts, the downward journey agonizingly slow. For both of them. His body sliding against the sheets as he moves down the bed,  a hand moving slowly along her thigh and around to the back of her knee. “...you have to be quiet. You'll wake the baby. And we have house guests.”

Nik and the new kid had insisted on staying the night. A hotel too far away if they got themselves into a spot of trouble. One bedding down in the nursery on a fold out cot,  the other on the couch.

“You make it a little hard to keep quiet,” she argues in a harsh whisper, and then has to clamp a hand over her mouth when his tongue delves into her navel and repeats the same action he had with her breast; thoroughly moistening the area before blowing on.

“Always so good for me,” he praises, as he presses a series of kisses from the back of her knee, all the way down to her ankle. Fingertips gliding against the bottom of her foot before his mouth moves upwards. Nibbling at her skin every so often, feeling the her goosebumps against his lips and his tongue.  “Right from the beginning,” he says, as his fingertips drift over that extra sensitive spot at the back of her knee. “Right from the beginning you gave me what I wanted.”

She opens her mouth to reply, all words lost when his mouth reaches her inner thighs; a strong hand pushing them open, his eyes on hers as he settles himself between her legs. The things that man can do with his mouth. And his hands.  Joining  together to create a very potent combination.  

“You are so beautiful,” he praises, as his presses a kiss to her mound. “You're so beautiful and I love you. So much.”

She tries to respond with the same but he is eager to get to work; all thoughts and all words disappearing from consciousness as his tongue trails over her clit.  The pace is slow. Torturous. Even to him.  His cock aching, desperate to be inside of her again. And her limbs tense and her feet dig into the mattress and her hands fists the sheets.  

“Tyler...” it's needy now. She's pleading. And he's relieved. Because even he has had enough of taking it slow.  

Slipping two fingers inside of her, he immediately zeros in on that magical spot inside of her. One no ever man had been able to find. In fact, she had confessed back in Dhaka that he was the first guy that had ever made her cum. That she'd never actually enjoyed sex enough to completely and totally relax enough to allow herself to enjoy it. And previous partners had never taken the time to make it a good experience.

They hadn't worshipped her like he had. Even that first night together.

The orgasm is fast and quick. Brought on by his fingers and the incessant pressure of his tongue, and when the first hint of noise starts tumbling from her mouth, he reaches up and clamps a hand against her lips.  Continuing to lick and suck until she's begging him to stop because it's all just too much. Too sensitive. Too soon. Her hands in his hair once again, attempting to pull him up.

Her eyes are closed when he surfaces, a satisfied, proud grin plastered across his face. Her juices coat his mouth and his beard, and he likes it off of his lips, enjoying the taste.

“You okay?” he asks, as he removes his hand from her mouth.

“Fuck you, Tyler Rake. Fuck you for being so good at that. For being so good at some many things.”

“Especially the naughty things, yeah?”

“Especially those.”

He sits back on his heels, a hand resting on her fluttering stomach, waiting for her to come down from her high. And when she does, she pounces on him, catching him off guard and sending him toppling onto his back.

“Not every day you managed to get one over on me, love,” he says, smirking as those greedy hands immediately go for his boxer briefs. Normally he wore nothing; enjoying bare skin against the cool sheets and the way his naked body felt against hers. But with company in the house, a little modesty was a must.  

He enjoys this side of her; aggressive, not afraid to take what she wants. She'd always been a selfless lover; willing to reciprocate. Never having to be asked. Taking it upon herself to make sure he was satisfied.  Even on the first night together, when he'd been surprised that she'd been so keen on returning the favour.  And she was good. So fucking good. And he remembers how he'd lay there afterwards, trying to catch his breath, trying to orientate himself with his surrounding, to realize what had just happened.  She had just watched him. A smirk on her face and a devilish glitter in her eyes as she swallowed every last drop.

“Fuck...” he groans when she takes him into her mouth; a hand curling around the shaft.

His eyes close and his hands burrow themselves in her hair.  That soft mouth and slick tongue  working together to drive him insane. Her hand pumping and stroking.  She was incredible; the enthusiasm with which she tended to him, the skill in which she possessed, the way she needed nothing more than subtle guidance from those hands in her hair.

“Jesus Christ...” he breathes, when she proceeds to deep throat him. He is long and thick. Much bigger than any other man she had ever been with.  He had sensed as much when she had penetrated her for the first time that night back in Dhaka and she'd winced.  He'd been worried about that; he didn't want to cause her any pain. Hurting her was the last thing that he ever  wanted to do.  

She removes his cock from her mouth; tongue concentrating on the head as her hand continues to jerk him off.  Pleased with the reaction she is getting from him;  the heavy breathing, the hands gripping her hair, the movements of his hips.  And his groan is much louder when she takes him fully into her mouth again. His hand painfully tight in her hair.

“I don't want to come like this,” he pants “I don't want to come in your mouth.”

“It's okay,” she assures him.

“No. No it's not,” he insists, and wrapping an arm around her waist, effortlessly picking her up and dumping her onto her back.  “I'll pull out,” he says, as her legs open and he settles himself between them.”

“You don't have to,” she says. “It's okay.”

“You're sure? Because we haven't been using anything and you said you weren't ready for another baby so...”

“It's okay,” she repeats, and wrapping her legs around his waist, presses her heels into the small of his back. She curls a finger around the chain he wears around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that muffles the cry that escapes her when he presses into her. Burying himself to the hilt; a low, feral moan escaping his lips at the sensation of being so deep.

He moves above her; forearms on the mattress supporting his weight.  His eyes on her face  the entire time. Their lips brushing against each other, his hair over his eyes and brushing against her forehead. Long, deep strokes that has her arching her back with each one,  her heels pressing into him.

“Look at me...” he gently orders, and those dark eyes flicker open. “...you're mine,” he growls. “Mine. You always will be.  Tell me. I want to hear it.”

“I'm yours, Tyler.  I'll always be yours.”

He smirks in approval, then covers her mouth with his own.  His tongue immediately searching for hers; kissing her hard and long and deep as he continues to move inside of her.  Until her own hips are arching off the bed and meeting him thrust for thrust.  And she once again yanks his head up by the hair,  and he shivers as she licks a path from his Adam's apple all the way to the underside of his skin.  

She licks her lips. Enjoying the taste of his cock that still lingers. And the hint of sweat.

He removes one hand from the mattress and reaches back for her leg; fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls it up onto his help. Allowing him to get even deeper. His eyes closing, head falling forward at the sheer pleasure of it.

Her hands roam his shoulders and his back; exploring every inch of those muscles. Loving the way they feel under her touch; the way they bulge and twist and turn. He's a thing of beauty.  All man; musky smell, wiry body hair, sheer power and force. A specimen unlike any other she's ever been with.   And she bites back a cry as he  unleashes a harder thrust; harder than any of the others, one that pushes her up the bed.  His stamina is the thing legends are made, but she can tell he's close. The way his eyes darken and his brow furrows,  how he exhales deeply and lets it go in a long, ragged breath.

She lifts her head to kiss him. Capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. Unspoken permission to let go. And he takes it,  still holding himself up on his forearm, his free hand fisting  her hair, yanking and twisting it.

He angles his hip just right; so that every thrust creates contact on her clit.   Removing his hand from her hair and covering her mouth when she comes; the scream muffled against his palm. An orgasm so powerful that her toes curl and her entire body stiffens and tears spill down her cheeks.  And as she continues to convulse around him, he slips an arm under her and then sits back on his heels; the pressure of his fingers bruising soft skin as he yanks her towards him by the hips.  The thrusts sloppy and fast, until he's coming as well. Biting back her name as it threatens to erupt from her lips. Coming deep inside of her, hot and thick bathing her womb, holding her tight against him until her clenching inner muscles drain him dry.

“Fuck...me...” he groans, and flops over onto his back. Chest heaving. A thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body.  His eyes closed, arms limp at his sides.

The mattress moves underneath him, and when he opens his eyes she's beside him on her stomach, face turned towards him, smiling . That sleepy little Cheshire cat grin she always gets after sex.  

“You good?” he asks.

“Well I can’t see properly and I can't feel my legs right now. But I think I'll be okay.  You?”

“I think I might need to hit the gym harder. I'm losing my touch.”

“As if,” she grins, and then lets out a long, loud yawn.  It was one of two things for her after sex; sleep or food. Tonight it was going to be sleep.

Raking a hand through his hair, he sits up and gathers up the top blanket, draping it around his shoulders before lying down beside her and pulling her tight against him.

“I love you,” she whispers, as one of his large palms strokes her hair. “Please don't ever doubt that.”

“I won't,” he promises. “And I love you too. More than I ever thought I could love someone. More than I ever thought possible.”

She presses a kiss to that scar on the side of his throat, then nestles her face in that spot between his neck and his shoulder.

He closes his eyes, attempting to find sleep.

But that sense of doom returns.

The sense that they are living in the calm before the storm.

[ganda4ever]

The Story He Wanted

She is now living on her own and she doesn’t need a man to get what she wants. As helpful as her dad, brothers, and friends would be; Analía Reneé Delgado de La Cruz was determined to build her door sign herself. After being recently hired as parental educator and case manager for teenage parents, Anie wanted to create a way for her families to know if it was okay to drop in and visit her; while they were in the building for other courses with a cute door sign she made herself. “You are strong. You are powerful. You are capable of making the impossible; your possibilities,” Anie repeats to herself as she sits in her Toyota Corolla in the late August heat of Los Angeles. These 3 simple, but most meaningful, sentences are what her grand-dad and abuelo have for her for the last 21 years of her life. 

As soon as she walks into Home Depot, Anie could feel her anxiety wash over her by all of the overwhelming sounds and insights in front of her. For years, her behavior therapist have always encouraged her to go out into the world and overcome her sensory issues; but today should not have been the day she thought she could handle it. Anie swallows forcefully and marches over to the wood section to ask an employee what types of materials she should buy. 

“It’s okay. Thanks for trying to help. Have a good day” Anie sights to herself as she repeats the same generic sentences to the 9th employee that said, “uhh...sorry I don’t really know. You could try asking so and so” as they point lazily toward another general white guy with an orange apron on. She puts her hand on her temples to soothe the anxiety and headache coming on. “You are strong. You are powerful. You are capable of making the impossible; your possibilities'' Anie repeats once again to herself. She looks around to see if she can find another employee, but this guy with short, slightly frizzy hair starts walking up to her. 

Anie tries to walk away as fast as possible but the young hottie catches her and says, “Hey, do you need help?” as his brown eyes catch the dim lighting in aisle 9 of this Home Depot. 

“Yea, I could use some help. Do you work here?” Anie says with the breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. 

“Haha!!” he booms out of his mouth a little louder than the average person. “No, I don’t; but they really should look into hiring me. May quit my day job for it” he says a little quieter and flashes you a full grin showcasing his pearly white teeth. 

Anie smiles at this kind and good looking stranger and says, “You know what they say, ‘don’t quit your day job,’” she says trying to be funny, and failing miserably at. “Well if you aren’t busy, I really could use some help. I have no clue what I’m doing,” she says, feeling as desperate as they came. “I’m Analía by the way” as she extends her hand to shake his. 

“Grayson, but you can call me Gray,” he says as he meets her hand. 

She shows him the picture and explains her vision, so they are able to work together. For 3 hours, they go up and down every aisle in the store picking out woods and screws. Every once in a while Anie catches herself staring at Grayson, no Gray, a little longer than she probably should. When she isn’t staring at him or trying to pick the right screw and hinge color, Anie is answering one of the many questions Gray has asked her. She tells him about her new job, starting graduate school in a week, and little details about herself. Normally, Anie would never respond in that fashion; especially after what happened with her ex. Anie always told herself, “no one cares. just smile, nod, and look pretty. that’s what you do.” But Gray has made her feel welcomed and safe. Every question he asks makes what she says the most important thing in the world. She tells herself , “he is just being nice. Maybe looking for a quick hook-up in the parking lot.”

 By the time Anie is able to convince herself Gray may just be a nice guy, they find themselves in the paint aisle. “Okay, if you go with this brand in any color; it shouldn’t fade or chip for a long time. That way you won’t need to come to this scary place for some time” Grayson says as he points to the BEHR selection on the swatch display. 

“Okay, perfect. Thank you so much for all of your help. Is there any way I could prepaid you? Seriously, I was ready to completely give up.” 

Grayson shakes his head no and says, “Nothing, really. Just knowing you got everything you need and that’s right; is all the payment I need. Also if you need a power drill you can rent one at customer services. It’s pretty cheap and probably a better option for a one time project.” 

“That’s great! Thanks again for all of your help.” Anie smiles at Gray, hoping it will show him she is interested in him; as he flashes a little grin to her. To not make it awkward Anie says, “well, I’m sure you came here for a reason and I think I could be here for hours; so thanks again. Have a nice day.” 

“Oh, yea. Yea. Of course, no problem. Have a good day and good luck with work and school,” he says with a little wave and a wink. And with that Anie watched him walk away. She frowns with the disappointment that she couldn’t get the courage to ask this beautiful man out. 

The Gods or her brain must have known Analie has been in this overwhelming situation for far too long and needs to get home; because she picked the 2 paint colors she needed in record time for someone that took 5 days just to pick a mattress. She grabs her paint for the employee after they mixed it and places it in the cart. As she is pushing her heavier load up to the front, she can’t tell where a line starts and where one ends. Analie puts herself into what she thought was an okay spot until she hears, “Sweetheart. You may be able to push pass all of the ugly girls in high school, but here you always go behind the men.” 

Analie starts to turn around when she realizes the man was talking to her; but then she hears in a harsher , but still very deep and sexy tone, a voice that memorized her all day says, “Dude. Calm the fuck down. She’s with me. Babe! Analie, I am over here. Did you get the paint we needed?” As Anie finishes her turn around she feels a strong, but still gentle, hand pulling her over to the check-out line to her left. 

“Oh. I am so sorry. Guess I didn’t see you sir. I’m so sorry again.” She turns to Gray and says, “Yea, I did. Only took 10 minutes after all.” She smiles at Gray as to say, “Thank you for saving me from the dick over there.” 

“Yea. Well ‘dude’, just keep your bitch in line and she won’t have any problems.” Anie can visibly see how upset Grayson is getting the more and more this man tries to speak and how he thinks it’s funny to verbally disrespect a woman in public. Anie thinks about her dad and brothers and tries to get in between this guy and Grayson to prevent a fight from breaking out; except Grayson just smiles and tells the guy, “Why don’t you just get in front of us and I’ll pay for your materials? Since being in line any longer is such a big deal for you.” 

The dick of a man, just stares at Grayson like he is seeing a ghost. When Grayson pushes you and your cart back to allow the man to get over, the man practically runs over. After the man is finished checking out and Grayson finishes paying. He starts to put your materials on the belt and mixes your things together. 

“Oh, no. You have done plenty for me. Seriously, I need to pay for our things.” Anie says as she tries to get passed Grayson to the card reader, but he bets her to it by sticking his credit card into the chip reader. He smiles as to tell her, “It’s okay. Please let me do this.” After the cashier puts all of Anie’s things back into her cart and Grayson grabs his bags, they start to walk out to their cars. Anie tried to think of a moment to thank Grayson for all of his help, but the silence feels so much better. As they reach the point where Anie needs to go one way and Gray takes the other, they both start trying to speak. Secretly both of them were hoping the other would give a sign of wanting to continue their day together, but it never happened. When they both start speaking at the same time, neither one understands the other. Grayson motions to Anie that she can talk first. She blushes and says, “I forgot about renting the drill. I’ll just go back in after loading my car. But thank you so much again for literally saving me.” She smiles at him, hoping he will get what she is putting off. 

“No problem whatsoever. But what if I can get your number, we can build it at my place. This way you know it will be done right and I have all of the tools needed.” Grayson is pulling out his phone so fast, Anie doesn’t can’t even remember where she put her phone. 

“I mean I would love that, because you can tell I struggle in the whole building aspect of life. But seriously only if you have some time, it can wait a minute before I really need it,” Anie says the whole time she is typing in her number and checking to make sure she spelt and wrote everything completely right; because it would be her luck to give him the wrong number by accident. 

Grayson looks at her and sees the way her blue eyes shimmer in the L.A. pink and purple sunset behind them. “Actually, I was just going to grab some dinner and then head home. My brother’s girlfriend is over, so I would be all alone for the rest of the night. Why don’t we load up your car, and you follow me over to my favorite restaurant and afterwards we build.” Anie had no idea what to say, she just nodded her head. Saying a prayer thanking God something finally worked out okay for her. 

“Yeah. That sounds really fun and a good way to spend our time. I mean building my sign, cause you know that has been my priority today,” Anie wants to run and hide by her cringy comment, but Grayson just laughs and agrees with her. Together they load up Anie’s car with everything she just bought and drives over to Grayson’s car. Before Grayson pulls out, Anie knows tonight is only going to end one of two ways: the biggest regret and mistake of her 21 years of life or she may have just found her eternal soulmate. Considering her previous relationship, Anie is really hoping for the latter to happen tonight. She could use a good gentleman in her life; and the possibility of this god of a man as her husband, doesn’t sound too bad.

[gotboredwrote]

Starting Early // TM!JFM

Pairing: Tim Murphy x Fem!Reader Word Count: 8.2K Style: One-Shot Warnings: Fluff, some pregnancy discussions, swearing, some angst Summary: You and Tim had been trying for a baby for a while, and one day you popped into the museum with a small box in hand ready to make what you could only imagine was a very stressful day better. Once it’s official, Tim cannot wait to show the baby around his place of work. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: This could have been written for literally anyone I write for but I had a strong urge for Tim, so that’s that.

Masterlist

~

To say that it had been a stressful time in Tim’s life was an understatement. One of the biggest stresses of his life had recently come to a head, though, and that was yours and his wedding. But he would never admit to you that the planning had stressed him out. You, on the other hand, made that apparent. That was something he loved about you. You were not shy, so you two balanced each other out. The wedding ended up being absolutely amazing, and the honeymoon was a great way to relieve all the pent-up stress.

Once the honeymoon was over and the two of you were back to your daily grinds, the other stresses in his life returned, including the museum, dealing with his kooky family, and a new pressure entered, as well. One that he was not quite sure he was ready for, but knew he wanted the minute you suggested the idea. You two were going to try for a baby.

But things were not working out the way you wanted. You were positive you were doing things right, but it had been months and no test came back positive. After almost half a year of trying, you were both getting extremely discouraged, and Tim’s workload had increased tenfold, so he was even more tense than usual. To say that you both were wrecked over the situation was an understatement, and after the day you saw Tim go to work with tears in his eyes, you were determined to pick up his spirits. But you were not sure how you were going to do that.

Until you took the most recent test.

~

You had woken up sick to your stomach the morning after Tim left with tears in his eyes, and could not hold it back. Tim was about to walk out the door when he heard you in the bathroom and rushed over to the door to check on you.

“Babe?”

All he was met with were some sputtering coughs.

“Y/N?”

“W-what?”

“You need me to stay home today?”

You trudged your way over and opened the door to face him instead of talking through it.

“I’m okay. The chicken last night must not be agreeing with me. I’ll be okay, go get your work done. I’ll just see you when you come home, okay?”

“But you’re sick, I can’t—”

“Yes you can. I’ve been sick when you’re away on a dig and been fine.”

“You’ve been sick when I’m away and not told me?!”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you, honey. Now go off to work because I think round two is coming.”

“Babe—”

And the door was shut in his face. ‘Great,’ he thought. ‘Now I have to worry about her, my job, and the fact that my body is so screwed up it can’t even give her a damn baby.’ He walked out to his car feeling even more defeated than usual and a little bit depressed. He could not help but wonder if he was worth being with you, as dramatic as that was.

As Tim was walking out, and you were finishing up the round two that came rather violently, something dawned on you. And it both terrified you and made you thrilled.

Once you felt like you could stand up without feeling dizzy, something else that had been happening the last few days, you got changed and grabbed your own car keys. You raced down to your local drug store, the same pharmacist seeing where in the store you were heading. He was glad you did not see him, but he gave you a pitiful look. He stopped counting after you had bought 40 tests. He had never seen someone more determined to have a baby, and he just did not have the courage to breach such a sensitive subject with you. But he did not have to worry for much longer, because the next time you came in the store, you bought beef jerky, something you or Tim never ate. And he knew.

When you got home, you practically shot gunned a bottle of water in an effort to get ready for the little stick that was more daunting than it should have been. Then, as soon as you felt the sensation, you went in the bathroom, and the waiting game commenced.

5 minutes.

4.

3.

2.

1.

…

It was not even two little lines you got to see. You had splurged in the hopes that maybe this would be the one on one of those tests that quite literally spells out ‘not pregnant’ or ‘pregnant.’ You read the result.

And you could not wait to drive to the museum.

~

The drive usually only takes about 20 minutes, and even though that was all it took this time, the nerves and nausea radiating through your stomach made it feel like 20 years. On the way there, you had stopped at a local craft store and bought a small, white box and some blue and pink tissue paper to place the test in. It was astounding to you how a small piece of plastic was about to change yours and Tim’s life for the better.

You parked your car and made your way into the museum, Lilah the normal receptionist sitting in her chair having her daily coffee and pastry. She saw you walk in, smiled at you, and waved you through. Normally, the people who come to see someone on staff are required to have a visitor pass, and when you and Tim first started dating, you were no exception to the rule. Now, the entire staff of the museum knew who you were, and thought it was just plain silly for a staff member’s wife to wear a badge, especially when you visited so much you practically worked there yourself.

Once through the opening exhibit, you made your way back to the hallway of offices and walked up the flight of steps to the second floor where Tim’s office was. As you were walking up the steps, though, one of Tim’s bosses happened to be walking down and started talking to you.

“Y/N! I’m not really surprised to see you here, but it’s always nice to see you, nonetheless. What does Tim owe the pleasure?”

“I actually have a surprise for him, Jerry.” Jerry was Tim’s oldest boss, and he was genuinely the sweetest man you had ever gotten the pleasure of meeting. “Is he in his office?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure, actually. Here, I’ll follow you up and if his door is locked, I can let you in and you can wait for him.”

“That’d would be great, Jerry, thank you very much.”

You walked up, and sure enough Tim’s office was locked. Having Jerry there was a blessing, and he was about to leave you and lock the door behind him, when he turned around.

“Sweetheart?”

You looked up at him with wide eyes and a hum.

“If I may… what is that little gift you have? Today isn’t Tim’s birthday, is it?” “Oh! No, no it isn’t. This is actually just a bit of a surprise for him, is all. Surprised me, too, if I’m being transparent.”

“Is it what I think it is?”

You nodded enthusiastically, tears already threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Well. Knowing Tim, you’re about to make him the happiest man on Earth. And you already did the day you married him. Congratulations, deary.”

You could not even bring yourself to say thank you because you had started crying happy tears. Jerry shut the door behind you and you heard the lock click. You had calmed your crying down after about 5 minutes, and then another 5 minutes later, you heard the door unlock again. Tim walked in with an enormous stack of paperwork that completely dropped to the floor when he saw you seated at his desk. Thankfully, it was all in sealed file folders, so nothing cascaded across the floor.

“Jesus! Ah… oh my god. Y-Y/N… what are you… doing here?” Tim had to speak between breaths because you had scared him so badly.

“Sorry, honey! I just wanted to come see you and your door was locked, so Jerry let me in so I could sit down.”

“It’s…it’s fine. Just let me… catch my breath for a sec.” Tim sat down at the chairs that were opposite his chair, not wanting to make you get up, roles reversed momentarily. “So. What do I owe the pleasure of my wife’s presence on this… overwhelming day?”

“Well, I actually have something to give you.” “… I didn’t forget about my birthday again, did I?”

“No, Tim.” You were laughing in an attempt to cover up the emotions that were starting to resurface, since you knew what was about to happen. Your lives were about to change. Well, Tim’s was. Yours already had, alone in the bathroom earlier this morning.

You slowly slid the white box over to your husband, and he looked at it with confusion at first. Then he slowly reached for it and lifted the lid. He saw the pink and blue bundle of tissue paper and looked back up at you with even more confusion. You were doing everything in your power to not give anything away, but much to your chagrin, a tear slipped from your eyes the moment Tim made eye contact with you. The confusion lifted from his face, and a new emotion took over – concern. He ripped into the tissue paper like a small child on Christmas morning, but with the intensity of a grown man. The tissue paper had been scattered all around his legs and the floor and the top of his desk until he got to what was hidden underneath it.

‘Pregnant.’

The room was silent for a moment. Then came the sniffles from both sides of the desk. Then the eye contact of eyes that were flooded with tears and burning red with overwhelming feelings of love. Tim was by your side in an instant, latching on to you with everything he had. You were sobbing and he was laughing. It was a moment you would never forget.

“I… I knew we were doing it right.”

“Obviously, Timmy.”

“You’re going to be a mom… oh my God, you’re going to be a mom and-and I’m…”

“You’re going to be a dad.”

Tim looked at you and his eyes sparkled the way water looks when the sun shines down on it.

“An amazing dad.”

~

[2.5 Weeks]

“Isn’t that a good idea? We can start he/she early!”

“You know I don’t like pictures, Tim.”

“But this is different! This is something we are both going to want to look back on, and what better way to do it?”

Tim had come home from work a few days after he found out you were pregnant with a bag from a local electronics shop and was enthusiastically telling you about a plan he had. The plan involved something you had hated even before you were pregnant, but knowing that you were going to just be getting bigger and bigger as time went on made you hate the idea even more. Tim had wanted to document your pregnancy through pictures at the museum at milestone dates.

“… fine. You spent all that money on the camera, so I guess I can deal with it.”

“Astounding! And it starts today, you’re coming to work with me!”

“Tim! I have to go to work myself, I can’t just not show—”

“I already called your boss, he said it’s fine. Probably because he wanted me to just shut up, but it worked!”

You just looked at Tim lovingly while he laughed to himself. Then you ran over to the bathroom. Tim never thought he would get used to hearing you get sick. He almost felt bad that he was the cause of it, but knowing what would come out of it after nine months made it completely worthwhile to him. You were not so sure in the moment, but Tim’s enthusiasm convinced you otherwise.

You had made your way to the museum carefully, because the motions of cars did upset your stomach more. But the ride was quick and pretty painless this time. The two of you had decided not to tell anyone right away in case the worst happened, so when the museum staff saw you and Tim walk in together, no one thought anything different. Except for Jerry, but Tim had talked to him in advance and he knew not to say anything. When you two passed him walking to Tim’s office, he just gave you both a small smile, which you both returned.

Once all of Tim’s belongings were in his office, the two of you started walking hand in hand through the museum. Tim seemed to be taking you to a specific exhibit that he had in mind, but you were not sure why. Then it dawned on you. It was the exhibit that had the skull he found a long time ago on a dig when the two of you were still dating. (You do not have to read this for this story to make sense, just know that it could be read as a prequel of sorts.)

“Why are we stopping here?”

“You didn’t think I bought an expensive camera without a plan on when to use it, did you?”

“Of course not, but why this exhibit?”

“Don’t you remember? This is where the skull I found it is. I thought this could be where we take the growth pictures. Do you… hate the idea?”

You were feeling emotional to begin with, what with all the new hormones raging through your body, but you were just so happy in that moment that you just hugged Tim tightly. When you pulled away, through more happy tears, you told him how happy you were and how much you loved the idea.

Tim had you stand sideways in front of the display, lit with gold-tinted lights that illuminated your silhouette in a way that almost made Tim cry.

“There’s not much of a bump yet, Tim.” “But we know he/she’s there.”

[One Month]

The morning sickness had increased. Quite a bit. You felt sick around the clock, and practically everything you ate came up later in the day. Tim had gotten better at handling it. At first, he would have trouble being in the bathroom or even near it. Now he can hold your hair back for you as long as he does not look at you. You took what you could get.

One particular morning, Tim had woken up more excitable than he had been recently. You just felt sick so you ignored him. Then you felt a flop on top of you, signaling Tim had thrown something on top of you.

“What the hell are you doing? I don’t work today, why are you waking me up? And throwing my clothes on me?”

“Because you’re coming to the museum today. It’s been one month!”

“What…are you talking—”

“One month since you got pregnant, baby!”

The days dragged so much for you with how awful you felt, both physically from the sickness, and emotionally from not being able to tell anyone yet, that you completely stopped keeping track of dates. You had trouble believing that it had already been so long.

“Oh… that means it’s picture day, huh?”

“You bet! Plus, I’m giving a tour today to a group of 6 year-olds, so maybe you could tag along and see what we have coming!”

You offered Tim a weak smile. You were both so sure of having a kid together, but the reality of at it all had not really set in, at least for you. Your brain still continually told you that it was simply severe food poisoning from that chicken. But to Tim, it was his child. He was so proud that he could do something like that, and he wanted to prepare in every possible way he could, just so he could be the kid’s best friend. But you knew he did not have to prepare for that – it would happen by default. Almost made you jealous.

After a smaller than usual bout of morning sickness, you got dressed in the outfit Tim had picked out for you. The same one you wore the first time he took a picture. You understood why. The pants were a simple pair of grey sweats that were baggier around your lower abdomen and butt but were fitted toward the bottom, and a simple, oversized by about 3 sizes, pastel yellow tee shirt. An outfit that would be very easy to utilize for showing off a growing bump. Just what Tim wanted to do with his camera.

You went into your kitchen and smelled one of the few breakfast foods that did not make you sick, a chocolate croissant, something that Tim liked to bake for you even before you got pregnant. It was a specialty of his. One of the few things he could cook or bake, in general. He was standing at your kitchen table, with a somewhat bashful expression on his face. He held a croissant out in front of him, work bag and car keys in the other.

“I didn’t have time to bake them this weekend, so these are store-bought, but I warmed this one for you.”

You just walked over, took the croissant gently from his hands, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, honey.”

“You’re very welcome. Hope they’re not better than mine.”

“Close. But yours are better.”

“Fantastic.” He seemed really giddy about that fact. It made you smile. “You ready to head in?”

“I think so, I just need to grab my wallet.”

With that, the two of you made your way over to the museum and barely had any time to lock your belongings in his office when the exhibit manager of the day came over and told Tim the group was already there, and they were getting impatient. He needed to make his way down quickly or there would be a bunch of rambunctious 6-year-olds making a mess for the janitors.

Tim told them he would be down as soon as he could, but he would only walk at the speed you felt comfortable with. You were his priority. You were doing good on the sickness today, and he was not about to be the reason that changed. You two made your way down and instantly Tim went into tour guide-mode. It honestly was one of the funniest Tim personalities you knew, but you loved it all the same. Tim was introducing himself to the kids and the teachers and chaperones while you watched from the back of the group. A small group of Tim’s coworkers walked by the group and saw you standing there, and waved enthusiastically. Nothing out of sorts. You two still had your secret in place.

You followed the group around from the back, sometimes talking to one of the chaperones about this or that, and even mentioned to one that you were in the very early stages of your pregnancy, to which she became giddy but kept it contained. The only reason you mentioned it to her was because you had pointed out that one girl seemed to be very sad the whole tour and the lady mentioned that it was her daughter.

“If you’d like, when they have a break, you could go talk to her.”

“What? Why? Why me?”

“You’re gonna need practice, sweetheart, boy or girl.”

You gave her a nervous look, because this was making reality really set in for you. But you heeded her words, knowing she was right, and made your way over to the little girl while she ate her lunch alone.

“Hi there.”

She looked up at you with big, beautiful blue eyes.

“May I sit with you? I don’t have anyone to eat lunch with.”

She just nodded her head and kept slowly munching, her mother watching from behind so the girl did not see her.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Josephine.”

“That’s a beautiful name! Mine’s nowhere near as pretty, it’s just Y/N.”

“That’s pretty too!”

“Well, thank you. Josephine is prettier though. Your lunch looks good, what’re you having?”

“PB&J!”

You gasped in shock. “That’s my absolute favorite! In fact,” you reached down into your bag, “I brought one myself!”

Josephine laughed loudly, the sound attracting the attention of both her mother and Tim, but you two were too wrapped up in each other to notice.

“Josephine, can I ask you a question?”

Another nod.

“You looked really sad all morning, and that made me sad. Could you tell me why?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Honey. I promise there is no stupid reason to feel however you’re feeling. Emotions are natural reactions to whatever happens to you. What you feel is okay to feel. If you tell me what it is, I might be able to make you feel better.”

“…Tyler called me unpretty.”

“Tyler called you unpretty?”

“Yeah.”

“Well listen. Tyler is the one here who is unpretty. You, my dear, are beautiful. Just like a Disney princess. You have a name fit for one, too. And I want you to know that that kind of behavior is not tolerated in the adult world, so I will make sure it stops for you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You think you can enjoy the rest of Dr. Tim’s tour?”

“Are you going to be there?”

“Of course I will, sweetie. Dr. Tim and I have a very special relationship. I’m his biggest fan.”

“Do you love him?”

Her question caught you slightly off guard. “More than anything in this world, sweetheart.”

“Okay.”

“But I’ll be right behind the group the whole—”

“Would you hold my hand while he gives the show?”

You stopped in your tracks. That felt too much like something her own mother should do. You glanced over to her, knowing she was watching the interaction now, and she gave you the thumbs up.

“I would love to sweetie.”

For the rest of the tour, you stuck by Josephine’s side, hand not leaving hers once. Every once in a while, you were certain you saw Tim sneak a lingering glance at the two of you, and one time it lasted so long, he had to break himself out of his thoughts and his eyes had gotten a little glossy.

At the end of the tour, you all said your goodbyes, and you gave Josephine a quick hug, and gave one to her mother, as well. As you and Tim watched the bus drive away, Tim turned to you with a small smirk on his face.

“What do you want, Dr. Tim?”

“Oh, nothing… mom.”

He grabbed your hand and immediately took you to the display so he could take your picture. Still not much of a bump, you noticed, but you sure as hell felt different after the interaction you had today.

“My money’s on girl.” “Really? You’re already making bets? On what grounds?”

“You were too damn good with that little girl for it to be coincidental.”

[Two Months]

Morning sickness was still a bitch, frankly. Your doctor, one of only 5 people who know about your pregnancy at this point, including you and Tim, put your mind at ease explaining that it should subside around month 4. Halfway to the cravings period, she explained. Nothing particular important happened in the last month, both at Tim’s work and with your pregnancy. Things were going smoothly, other than the incessant sickness, but that more than likely meant you and baby were healthy. At least according to your doctor.

You felt Tim throw your clothes on top of you again, signaling that you would be spending another day at the museum. Another picture day. This time you were less upset about him waking you up. But once you stood up, you were sprinting to the bathroom.

Damn morning sickness.

One chocolate croissant and a twenty-minute drive later, you were seated in Tim’s office reading a book from his shelf, one of the few novels relating to dinosaurs he had amongst hundreds of textbooks. He had mainly a paperwork day that day, so the two of you just enjoyed each other’s presence. Something you hardly got to do even before you were pregnant. Your work lives made it so hard to see each other for any extended period of time, but you found ways to make it work.

Before either of you knew it, you had spent the entire day in his office, with you reading and him doing paperwork. It was practically time to go home, but you still had not taken your picture yet. You and Tim gathered all your belongings, locking up on your way out and made your way down to the exhibit. When you got down there, you placed all your stuff out of frame and stood profile to him and head gazing down at your stomach, just like any other shoot.

But you never heard the shutter.

You looked over at Tim who had tears streaking down his face, the camera shaking from how his hands were violently doing the same. You rushed over to him and grabbed his face, completely overwhelmed with confusion because you had no idea what triggered this. It was not raining or anything, so you had no idea what had set him off.

“Tim, baby, what’s wrong?” The panic was apparent in your frantic tone of voice.

“You’re showing.”

“What?”

“You’re showing.”

“What are you talk—”

“Let me take the picture.”

You slowly pulled away from him, resuming your position from a second before, and you heard the shutter go off this time. You walked back to him to see what he was referring to, and it hit you as hard as a wave of nausea in the morning.

You were showing.

The baby was showing.

You had already started to show after only two months.

You looked up at Tim with eyes that were just as watery as his, and hugged him tightly, but his grip was lighter. Knowing what was in between the two of you.

It became real.

[Three Months]

You had your doctor’s appointment, and she told you that it was officially safe to begin telling people about the pregnancy. Everything was looking fine, and the fact that you already had a small bump this early meant the baby was big and healthy. Absolutely nothing to worry about.

You told your families, and they all were extremely supportive, and Lex even cried, knowing that her kids would have a new family member to play with. Everything was going great, and you and Tim constantly felt like you were on cloud 9.

When you went into the museum to take the photo that day, you decided enough was enough and stopped hiding the bump, letting Tim’s coworkers ask about it. Some clapped him on the back, some broke down in tears at how amazing of parents they knew you two were going to be. It was all very overwhelming, but the two of you kept it pretty well together. Until it was time to take the photo. For some reason, seeing how much you had grown in a month set both of you off to the point where you were leaned up against the exhibit window, crying silently with each other.

Until you decided to speak.

“Am I going to be a good mom?”

“Wh-what?”

“Am I—”

“You’re going to be a perfect mom. I don’t know what brought this sudden fear up, but know that you are going to be a natural.”

“It’s all becoming so real, Tim. Like, I don’t need to stand sideways anymore to see the bump. He/she is really growing. They’re real. I just… don’t want to mess up.”

“Do you really think you and I aren’t going to make any mistakes? I mean, yes, we are near perfect human beings,” Tim’s sarcasm and sass always made you laugh, because it was never something people expected to come from such a shy human, “but all parents make mistakes. That’s how kids develop personalities. Otherwise, baby-making could basically be named cloning and we’d have invented that without even knowing it.”

Tim saw that you were not looking at him and tears were still running down your face. So, he grabbed it and pulled it to look at him.

“I didn’t have to see you with that girl to know you are going to be as perfect as you can be. Because I can see how much the idea of being a bad mom is eating away at you. You couldn’t handle the prospect of someone thinking you’re a bad mother, so you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure that doesn’t happen. Plus, I just know you. You were practically a mom even when we were dating. How much you doted on me. Took care of me on my bad days. Still do.”

You believed Tim. You believed every word that came from his mouth.

“And I know I’m going to be a great dad by the same logic as you. I don’t want to be a bad dad more than anything in this world, so I’m not going to let it happen. Plus, Lex can always give us pointers.”

“…thank you.” “Anytime, mother of my child.”

“…that’s weird, don’t say that.”

“You married this weirdo, you should expect this after all these years, Y/N.”

[Four Months]

Your morning sickness subsided – just like the doctor told you it would. It was a relief to not be throwing up every 2 hours. But the cravings were not much better. Beef jerky? ‘Really, baby?’ you always thought as you would gaze at your ever-growing stomach, now practically impossible to hide.

Walking in the museum with outside food or drink was against the rules, but Tim’s coworkers and bosses made an exception for you, knowing how hard you two tried to get to this moment in your lives. Especially when they saw you walk in going to town on a bag of beef jerky. They could tell by your expression that you hated it but it was what the baby wanted, and they always laughed out of pity and bemusement.

Nothing particularly exciting happened this day, either, just like last month. With the exception of a recent find being dropped off the museum for display. Tim told you he would finish up his paperwork and you could go watch them set it up. Then he would come find you when he was done and you could take your picture and go.

Once Tim had taken the picture, Tim had started crying again, so you ushered him to join you by the display and sit down.

“What’s going on, Timmy?”

“What… if they’re scared of me?”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Scars, Y/N.”

You just looked at him in shock.

“I don’t look like you. Or anyone else. I’m marked. I know eventually I’ll have to explain what these are from, but what if when they’re a baby they don’t want me to hold them? Or feed them? Or change them? Or lay them in the crib? What if they just think I’m a monster? And not…dad?”

“… I wish I could say it won’t scare he/she. But I definitely think they’ll be interested… to a degree. But that won’t matter to a baby. All they’re going to see is your big beautiful eyes and your smile. All they’re going to hear is how cute they are and your gorgeous singing voice when you sing them to sleep. You’ll appear as the farthest thing from a monster, and you just have a really cool bedtime story to tell them when they’re younger. You can save the real stuff for later.”

“…”

“I love your scars. You know that. Very much so. I think the baby will, too.”

[Five Months]

You had officially gone one month without morning sickness, and you were very thankful for that fact. Tim would never say it to your face, but he was too. He did not want to make you feel bad for making him feel sick all the time, too, seeing as that the cause of yours was him. Your cravings were still in a pretty full swing, though, but they were never terrible combinations like movies and television made them out to be. Most of the time they were just foods you were not particularly fond of, but you could move past that, since they did not make you sick.

You had another doctor’s appointment, as per usual, but this was one you did not tell Tim about. Not because there was anything involved he had not seen before, but because this was the official appointment where the gender could be found out. You had a plan; you were going to have the doctor tell you the gender, and then you were going to work with the museum to have a small, private gender reveal for Tim. When you found out the gender, you cried and wanted to immediately share the news with Tim, but patience is truly a virtue, and you knew it would be worth the wait.

When you got home that day, you called the museum and told them what day you would be coming into the museum to take the newest photo, and they were more than willing to help you out. You wanted the surprise to be simple, so you explained what you had in mind, and they were all for it. Eventually the day came where you and Tim went to the museum together, and you spent the day like any other, moseying around sometimes with him and sometimes not. On one occasion when you were by yourself, you walked over to the exhibit where you took your photos to make sure the reveal had not been set up yet, and thankfully it was not. Meaning, Tim had no clue what he was in for.

Later in the day, the museum had closed up for the public, so you made a quick call to the manager who was going to set up your surprise to signal it was go time. You stalled Tim in his office as long as you could, but eventually, you ran out of stuff to say. So, you two made your way downstairs, and all you could do was hope that the manager got out of there in time.

Once in front of the exhibit, you decided not to say anything at first. See if Tim would notice. You set yourself up in front of the viewing window and assumed the position, and you heard the shutter go off. You were almost hurt that Tim did not notice the glaringly obvious breach of protocol in the exhibit, because you were the one who wanted to do this surprise for him. So, you decided to egg him on a bit.

“Tim, did I tell you I had an OBGYN appointment today?”

Tim’s head slowly looked up at you from the camera and his eyes were glossy, and you were certain you could see his lips trembling, holding back a smile.

“I didn’t think not telling you would make you this upset, honey, I’m really—”

“Pink.”

That explained the tears. And the attempt not to smile. He saw your surprise in the photo looking closer. You had instructed the museum to find a small beanie that would fit onto the skull in the exhibit that Tim had found on the dig. A pink one. To let him know that he would be having a daughter with you.

“It’s pink… you’re having… having a girl?”

“We’re having a girl, yes. A girl, Tim!”

“That’s the greatest news anyone could have ever told me. A girl… oh my God, a girl!”

You could see that he was ecstatic to hear that it was a girl. Both of you would have been happy with whatever it ended up being, but the happiness that radiated off of your husband indicated to you that he might have been leaning toward a preference.

“Oh no.” “What, Tim? You were just so happy.”

“I’m going to have to fight a lot of men soon.” “What? Why?” You were practically laughing just at the thought of Tim trying to win a fight. He was headstrong, sure, but body strong? Not so much.

“She’s going to be just as beautiful as her mother, which means a lot of potential suitors.”

“I’ll help her. She needs a man just like her father.”

 [Six Months]

After finding out that the two of you were going to have a girl, it was time to tell your families and friends, and they had nothing but sweet and wise words of advice. Everyone kept saying to you privately that they could see you being a great mom to a boy or a girl, but that Tim would be especially good with a girl. For some reason, it just made sense, and you could not help but agree with them. He was always just so tender and sweet with everyone he meets, and he treated you like a fragile piece of glass when he interacted with you, giving you the utmost care. You would not be surprised if that happened with your baby, but ten-fold.

This day at the museum was nothing out of the ordinary – paperwork, some smaller tours, things of that nature. You did not mind though. With how far along you were getting, nearing the third trimester already, you were starting to constantly feeling tired. So, being able to lounge on Tim’s office couch and just doze off or read a little bit was always a nice feeling.

At one point though, someone had knocked on the door while Tim was out, and you honestly were not sure if you should answer. That situation, despite how long the two of you had been together, had not come up since the first time. The first time it was just a package for him, so it was not a big deal, but you could never be sure who it was, since his door did not have a peephole.

You carefully stood up on your own, not used to not having Tim right by your side to help you, and answered the door. Standing behind it was a very cheery Jerry, Tim’s boss.

“Y/N? I didn’t expect you to answer.”

“Timmy is off with an intern explaining something he did wrong.” You both laughed at the idea of Tim being all nervous and jittery about something being wrong. “Would I be able to help you with what you needed?”

“Actually, the whole reason I came was for you, but I was just going to have him give you this.” Jerry handed you an envelope that felt extremely thin, but you did not question it one bit. Jerry had his ways of explaining himself sooner or later. “Just read that whenever you get a chance, dear. I think you’ll like what’s inside.”

“Alright. Should I—”

And he shut the door behind him, leaving you with your mouth agape.

So, you decided now was a good a time as any, since Tim was not there still to keep you company. You sat back down, carefully, onto his couch and opened the letter. It was a single sheet of paper, with hardly 15 sentences on it. You read it slowly and quietly to yourself, and when you had finished, Tim walked back through the door. He was met with the site of you crying silently and red-rimmed eyes. Immediately he was by your side asking you if you were okay and if the baby was hurt. You just looked up at him wearily but forcing a smile on your face while sliding the letter in his direction. Tim read aloud.

 “Dearest Murphy’s,

I hope this letter finds you at a happy time, or maybe, it would be better when you’re slightly sad and could be a pick-me-up of sorts. I would like to make this short and sweet, so as not to take much up of your time. First and foremost, I would like to offer you a piece of advice – frankly, it is what I would call the best piece of parenting advice one could receive, especially as first-time parents. ‘Protect the child at all costs, but do not prevent them from exploring potential.’ Pretty self-explanatory, but in case it isn’t clear – please keep the child safe at whatever cost, but if they express sincere interest in something and there is no inherent danger involved, even if it makes you anxious at first, don’t squander it. Children are so precious, and their minds take in everything, despite what you may think, and preventing the child from expressing themselves is only going to make them despise you and want to do everything in the opposite way you told them to. Secondly, I would like to offer Tim paid paternal-leave for as long as you are earning yours from your employer – we will match the length of time. Plus, as a bonus from the entire museum staff for all you two have done over the years for us, a small token of our gratitude is enclosed here that I sincerely hope will help you throughout the beginning of this journey.

I sincerely treasure you both as human beings, and I wish you all the luck with your little family.

Sincerely yours,

Jerry Turner, CFO Cretaceous and Jurassic Periods at American Museum of Natural History”

 Tim was still at a loss for what had made you cry, and then he saw the ‘small token of their gratitude.’

A check.

For $10,000.

Both you and Tim were sobbing. Loudly.

You could not believe it, because that would cover so much more than you could have ever imagined, and neither of you were quite sure what you did to earn such a thoughtful and extremely generous gift. You wanted to thank Jerry, but you had no idea where he ran off to, and you two were so overwhelmed by the gift that neither of you had the strength to move.

Little did you know that Jerry had watched Tim walk back in his office and was outside the door hearing how happy you were, and his heart swelled up.

You took the monthly picture, tears still streaking down your cheeks. You looked ethereal, despite the tears.

[Seven Months]

Officially within your third and final trimester, things were getting down to the wire. You had stopped all the various side-effects of pregnancy, and all that was left was the constant sluggishness. Tim did not want you drinking too much caffeine, so he cut back as well. You were constantly having the energy sucked out of you, but Tim kept going a mile a minute, somehow, considering the boy lived off of tea and the occasional coffee if he really needed it. You assumed it was nervous jitters knowing how close you two were getting to meeting the little one.

You had arrived at the museum early, and Tim had gotten all of his paperwork done the day before so he could spend the day walking around the museum with you, seemingly with a plan in mind.

Every time you would arrive at a new exhibit, Tim would drop down to his knees, and he would gently lay his head down onto your belly. Then he would start talking. Anything he could say about the exhibit – reading the signs, spewing random bits of knowledge here and there, whatever he could think of. After he did this about four times, you stopped him and asked him just what it was he was doing.

“I’m talking to her.”

You just looked at him sweetly, almost tearing up at the sentiment.

“Gotta start her early, don’t I? Can’t have her being into mathematics like her mother.”

And then came the eye roll. You almost did not let him take the picture that night because of that little gripe at your job.

[Eight Months]

It was hard for the two of you to believe you were down to the last potential thirty days, but you were already there. The two of you were both planners, so every single thing that could be accounted for was already accounted for – she had a room, clothes, diapers, everything. The two of you went and took your monthly picture, wondering if you would get to take another one, when it hit Tim that the two of you missed something crucial in your planning.

“Oh shit.” “What?”

“We don’t have a name yet.”

“Oh shit.”

Sitting down on the bench looking into the exhibit, you both thought about it for a while, throwing out ideas neither of you liked. Just to put something out there and maybe draw inspiration. Then Tim suggested another two names, and instantly you knew they were the ones. Both of you were old fashioned, and you knew you were going to get some comments about it, but it did not matter.

This was your daughter, and you could name her whatever you damn well pleased.

[Eight Months and Twenty-Two Days, June 11]

It was so much pain.

So much more pain than you expected.

But dammit, you were going to meet your daughter today, and that was that.

You honestly could not even remember the drive to the hospital, but the next thing you knew, you were in a hospital gown with a doctor telling you that you were nine centimeters dilated and that the pushing would start soon. Despite everything you told him was going to happen, Tim was right by your side gripping your hand like a vice, with an expression on his face that made the doctors think he was in as much pain as you were.

But it went quicker than you thought it would. That final centimeter happened quick, and everyone in the room was on you in an instant to coach you through the pushing. You only had to push for about 15 minutes and then you heard it.

Small but powerful cries, indicating that the baby was here and healthy.

Immediately she was on your chest and they were starting to clean her up, and then they took her over to the crib to wrap her. You were still catching your breath when you saw Tim walk over to you, bundle in his hands, him sobbing with joy.

“She’s—”

“Gorgeous.”

The nurse came over to the both of you with a clipboard after a few minutes, now that both of you had calmed down lightly.

“Alrighty. So, we have a healthy baby girl, born June 11 at 4:49am, weighing 6.1 ounces and measuring 20 inches in length. We have all the other stuff taken care of, we just need to know if she has a name yet.”

“She does.” Tim looked so proud that he was the one who got to say it for the official birth certificate.

“Agnes Eloise Murphy.”

The nurse smiled, double checked the spelling, and walked off to file it. You were just gazing at him with almost a hint of fear in your tired expression, because something the nurse had said threw you off a bit.

“Timmy…”

“Hm?” He was still gazing down at Agnes, not really mentally with you at that moment.

“Do you realize what today is? What her birthday is?”

“I do.”

“And you’re okay?”

“Of course I am. I will never have to remember the horror of Jurassic Park on this day any longer, she is a distraction from that nightmare, she is a living, breathing dream come true.”

 [One Month Birthday]

Agnes turned one month old, and neither of you could believe it. Other than doctor’s appointments, she had not left your apartment. You both decided that she could make one exception, and Tim was more than eager to take her to the place where he found out she would be coming into this world.

The two of you took her around the entire place, and ended at the exhibit where all the pregnancy photos were taken.

“You don’t know it yet, but this place has a lot of special meaning to mommy and daddy, and you too. We’ll tell you all about it when you’re older, lovebug.” Tim spoke to his daughter the same way he did when she was still in your belly and it made you melt. You knew it from the moment you laid eyes on her that she was going to be a daddy’s girl.

As he spoke to her, she smiled and placed a hand right atop the scar adorning Tim’s cheek. She laughed for the very first time.

“I told you she’d love them.”

When you look back down, you can see her enthusiastically swinging around the small dinosaur plush toy you had given her as a first stuffed animal. You smiled and looked back up at Tim, not believing how precious she was.

“And a dinosaur lover just like her dad, too.”

“Told you we had to start her early, keep her away from the numbers.”

Permanent Taglist: @bensrhapsody @chlobo6 @gardnerlangway @xtrashmammalstefx @bohemiandeakyy

Tim Murphy Taglist: @drtimmurphy

Specific Fic Taglist: @70sdeakys

// If you want to be added to either taglist mentioned above, or the one for another character I’ve written for, send me an ask here! //

[buckeverlasting]

The Made Up Meet-Cute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

A/N: The year is 2020. The place is Manhattan. Tony has rebuilt Stark Tower and apologized to Bucky for the events of Civil War, and everyone lives happily together... This fulfills a request from someone I’ll just call Parsons Anon. I’m sure you know who you are.

Summary: Bucky bumps into his dream girl in passing. He decides to track her down.

Warnings: fluff, just a whole bunch of fluff

Word count: 3.3k 

Bucky loved early morning jogs through Manhattan. He loved watching everyone rushing to work with their coffee and thinking how lucky he was not to have a desk job. Tony hired him on as a consultant, as he did all the Avengers, so they could have something to put on their tax forms. Morning runs were a way to get away from everyone, to get lost in the sea of commuters. He loved everyone he lived with in the tower, but he loved being alone. Though the sidewalks were crowded with people, he was very much by himself, free to be with his thoughts. 

Despite how different they looked, Manhattan reminded him of living in Wakanda, where he could watch the sunrise in relative peace, his only visitors being some kids or Shuri coming to check in on him. It took work to put the events of all the wars he’d faced behind him, a constant vigilance against memories that left him feeling battered and bereft. Jogging early in the morning cleared his head of everything, even the constant war he was waging with his past. For an hour or so, there was a ceasefire. He was just James “Bucky” Barnes, not the Winter Soldier, not the White Wolf, just a guy in sweats. Well, that’s what morning runs used to be like for Bucky until the morning he ran into you. The scent of your perfume and the memory of your red lips would rob him of peace and even sleep for weeks.

You were running late for your first morning lecture, so you were hurrying with your coffee to class. As you turned a corner, you bumped into a burly man in gray sweats. Your paper cup of coffee was crushed between you.

“Ouch!” You shook the hot coffee from your hands and wiped them on our coat. You glance up to see that the front of the man’s sweatshirt was dripping with your latte. “Oh no! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Bucky looked down at himself. “It’s just a sweatshirt.” He smiled at you, and you gave him a quick half smile in return.

“Alright, then,” you said and continued down the sidewalk, head down against the wind. You were now going to be even later.

All Bucky should have been smelling was the coffee on his sweatshirt, but the wind carried the scent of roses to him. You smelled like roses. And he couldn’t shake the image of your crimson smile that crept up with just a suggestion of a smirk. Your lips were full, and the word that kept coming to his mind when he thought of them was “kissable.” In that vast ocean of anonymous city dwellers, he was falling for one he desperately wished he knew.

Back at the tower, Bucky poured himself a glass of water and just held it, staring out the window.

“Morning, Buck,” Steve said.

Bucky turned around with a start. “Oh, hey, Steve.” He turned back to the window.

“Have a good run this morning?” Steve opened the fridge and took out the orange juice. He took a glass from the cabinet and poured himself some juice. “Hello? Buck?”

“You ever think about how many people live on this tiny island?” Bucky asked. “Like, how many stories we just don’t know?”

“You sound awfully philosophical this morning,” Steve said. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Don’t laugh,” Buck said, “but I bumped into this girl.”

“Let me guess. You can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I can’t! She spilled coffee on me and then just sort of darted off.”

“So, you didn’t catch her name.”

“No, she seemed like she was in a pretty big hurry.” Bucky wanted to tell Steve how she smelled like roses and how her lips were just as red, but he didn’t want Steve to tease him.

“Why don’t you find her?” Steve took a sip of his orange juice.

“Even if I could find her, I think I’m a little old for her,” Bucky said.

“We’re too old for everybody. Plus age won’t matter to her if she’s the kind of person you want to be with. You wouldn’t want to date the kind of person who would hold the fact that you were forced to be cryogenically frozen against you.”

“That’s a fair point.” Bucky snatched the jug of orange juice off the counter.

Steve reached into the cabinet. “For crying out loud, use a glass, Buck.”

—-

The next morning Bucky made a point to take the same route as he did the day before, hoping to run into you again. He was pretty sure that it was somewhere along Fifth Avenue, perhaps near 14th Street. It was somewhat near Union Square. He knew there was a Starbucks at Union Square. Perhaps you had gotten your coffee there. Bucky thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek in the window. He looked in, and there was no beautiful girl with those full red lips. He wouldn’t let himself get disappointed, though. This was a huge city with millions of coffee shops. He wracked his brain to try to remember a label or some marking on her coffee cup. He remembered now it was actually just plain white with a black lid. It must be a small coffee shop, possibly not even part of a chain of shops. It had to be someplace unique. It had to be because you had chosen it.

That afternoon, with FRIDAY’s help, Bucky compiled a list of coffee shops near Union Square. It was possible that you had arrived at the Union Square station with coffee you had brought from Brooklyn, for example, but Bucky just had a feeling by how hot it was that it was close by. On his morning jogs, Bucky methodically visited some of the coffee shops on his list, hoping that he’d be lucky enough to bump into you again. After he had visited each one on his list, a week or so had past, and he was beginning to lose hope. Yet the image of your crimson lips was still bright in his memory. The scent of roses was still fresh in his nose.

Well into the second week of his search for your coffee shop, he stopped in the middle of his jog when he smelled roses. He followed the scent to a small flower shop. He peered in the window. It was also a coffee shop! FRIDAY probably didn’t put it on his list because it was listed as a flower shop first and foremost. Inside were two counters. One had a little glass case with pastries and chrome-bright coffee machines behind it, and at the other counter, a woman in a green apron was wrapping a bouquet of daisies in tissue paper. He had a feeling this was the place. He looked up at the sign. It read, Bread and Flowers. It made sense that a girl who wears rose perfume frequents a place like this.

Heart beating in his ears, he entered, and the door jingled a little bell. He walked up to the barista who greeted him with a smile.

“Morning! What can I get for you?” she asked.

Bucky focused on the menu on the wall behind her. “A black coffee, please.”

“For here or to go?”

“For here.” He figured he’d sit around for a bit and see if you showed up.

As he got his coffee and was sitting down at a table by the window, it occurred to him that he had no idea what to say to you. Even worse, he had no idea how to explain to you how he had found your coffee shop. He wasn’t about to tell you about his research with FRIDAY and his daily stakeouts of coffee shops around Union Square. So, he left without touching his coffee.

—-

“Why aren’t you out for a run this morning?” Sam asked. “Don’t you always go running?”

Bucky just grunted into his cereal.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Sam said.

“Sorry,” Bucky said.

“Is this about the girl you’ve been spending weeks trying to find?” Sam asked.

There was no point in lying. “How did you know?” Bucky asked.

“Steve told me, and you always come home smelling like coffee after your runs.”

“I just don’t know what I’m going to say to her when I meet her again. Won’t it be weird if I suddenly show up in her coffee shop?”

“Just say hello and tell her your name. You don’t need to explain the fact that you stalked her for weeks. Just make it seem like a coincidence.”

—-

The next day Bucky screwed up the courage to run straight to the flower shop/coffee shop. He opened the door, and there you were, sitting in a corner with a a cup the size of a soup bowl in front of you, reading what looked like a textbook. You were absentmindedly chewing on the highlighter you held, and Bucky was so distracted by the deep red of your lips that he didn’t notice he walked up to the flower shop counter instead of the coffee bar.

The lady in the green apron smiled at him. “How can I help you?”

“Um, roses,” Bucky said. “I’d like some roses, please.”

“Okay, which color?” she asked.

Bucky wanted to get you red roses to match your lips but thought maybe that was too romantic. Plus, he didn’t know your favorite color rose. “I guess I’ll take one of each color.”

He occasionally glanced over his shoulder at you reading while he waited for the florist to work her magic, strategically sticking in sprigs of other green things he didn’t know the name of.

Bucky paid and accepted the lovely bouquet wrapped in white tissue paper. He walked over to you in the corner. His heart leapt into his throat. He didn’t know if he’d be able to speak.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said.

You looked up and blinked at him, cocking your head slightly. You furrowed your brow, trying to place him. “You’re the guy I spilled coffee on,” you said.

“That’s me.” Bucky grinned and scratched the back of his head. “I felt bad for wasting your coffee, so I thought maybe I could buy you another cup some time. Also, this is for you.” He handed you the little bouquet of multicolored roses.

You breathed in the roses. “These are beautiful! Thank you. They’re my favorite.” You pulled out the chair next to you. “I’m actually just about to run out of coffee now, if you want to buy me a refill.” You smiled at Bucky.

“I’d love you. I mean, I’d love you. I mean, I’d love to.” Bucky turned redder than your lips. “What are you drinking?”

“A latte with almond milk.” You smiled to put him at ease. Clearly, this man was very rusty. You watched him walk to the counter to make the order. You had to admit you were immediately taken in by his ocean blue eyes, and you found the stubble on his square jaw alluring.

“They said they’ll bring it out when it’s ready.” He sat down in the chair you had pulled out. “I’m Bucky, by the way.” He put out his hand.

“I’m y/n.” You shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“What are you reading there?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m just studying for my art history midterm,” you said.

“So, you’re a student.”

“Yeah, I go to Parsons.” You motioned vaguely in the direction of your school. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Well, I’m kind of a consultant.”

“Who consults with you?”

“Um, Tony Stark.” Bucky looked down at the table.

“I thought I recognized you! You must be Bucky BARNES. Aren’t you an Avenger?”

“A bit, I guess so.”

“Well, you are or you aren’t.”

“Well, then I am.” Bucky smiled. “Where are you from?”

And so you chatted for a while, just getting to know each other. After two hours, you realized you hadn’t done any studying for your midterm. Bucky said that he’d let you study but that he’d like to take you out on a proper date sometime soon. You exchanged numbers, and Bucky left the flower shop/coffee shop in very high spirits.

—-

“So, she’s a student,” Natasha said. “Isn’t she a bit young for you?”

“Everyone is too young for me,” Bucky said.

“I suppose that’s true,” she said. “What are you going to wear?”

“This. Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

“You and Steve! You can really tell you two haven’t dated in a long time.” She shook her head. “I’ll go through your closet and help you find something.”

“Okay, fine.”

—-

Your first date with Bucky, you took him to try Thai food. He had never tried it before. He seemed to like pad Thai, which he described as “spaghetti with peanut butter.” The next date was a visit to the Met and a stroll around Central Park after. Your third date was to a movie that neither one of you will ever remember because it was the first time you held hands, and that’s all either one of you could focus on. Bucky took you back to your place, and on the train ride, you rested your head on his shoulder. He rested his cheek on your hair and interlaced his fingers with yours.

One chilly fall afternoon, you were both reading in your favorite coffee shop, when Bucky put his book down, leaned across the table, and kissed you on the lips.

“I’ve been dying to do that since I first bumped into you,” he said.

You smiled at him with soft eyes. “What took you so damn long?”

“Call me old fashioned.”

“So, are we going steady? Am I your best gal?”

“I would hope we’re going steady, and of course, you’re my best girl.” He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it, looking up at you with those deep ocean blue eyes.

—-

“When do we get to meet this girl, Buck?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I’m dying to meet her,” Natasha said.

“In time,” Bucky said.

“Not good enough,” Tony said. “That’s it. I’m throwing a party tomorrow, and I’m inviting her. What’s her name?”

—-

You arrived at Stark Tower fashionably late, as it took you twice as long to get dressed than usual. You felt like you had nothing to wear to a Tony Stark party. You called Bucky in a panic, and he told you wearing jeans would be perfectly acceptable. You at least slipped on your cutest shoes, which happened to be red to match your lips.

The front doors slid open for you, and you saw Bucky sitting in the lobby waiting for you.

“I was getting nervous that you weren’t going to show up.” He stood and walked up to you.

“I definitely wouldn’t miss this.” You got up on the tips of your toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Good. I’m glad you’re here.” He offered you his arm, and you looped yours in his. “Shall we?”

You let him lead you to the elevator. He pressed the button for the 31st floor. “Ready?”

“I don’t know,” you said. 
“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’m a little nervous,” you admitted.

Bucky stooped to kiss the top of your head. “It’ll be fine. Everyone will love you.”

The elevator doors slid open before you have a chance to ask him what made him so sure. You didn’t know what you were expecting exactly, but you definitely weren’t expecting to see the Avengers casually reclining on a large sectional sofa with bottles of beer in hand. Steve Rogers jumped up and bounded over to you and Bucky.

“You must be y/n.” He held out an enormous hand. “I’m Steve. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

You took his hand. “I know who you are. I know who you all are.” You looked from face to face. You recognized fiery red-haired Natasha Romanoff, bashful Bruce Banner, snarky Tony Stark, boyish Clint Barton, winsome Sam Wilson, and…

“Is Thor here?” you asked.

“Oh, what? We’re not good enough for you?” Tony came over and offered his hand, too. “I’m Tony. Nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much. All good things, though. Don’t worry.”

“Do my ears deceive me, or did I hear my name?” Thor appeared from around the corner, offering you and Bucky each a bottle of beer.

“I’m such a big fan.” You could feel the heat coming off your cheeks, and you could definitely feel Bucky giving you a look.

“What about me?” He held his hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

“Oh, you’ll survive.” You gave him a little shove before extending your hand to Thor. “It’s such an honor to meet you!”

“The honor is mine,” he said, almost crushing your hand as he shook it vigorously.

You clench and unclench your fist and gently massage your fingers back to life, as Natasha approached you.

“I won’t shake your hand, but I will give you a hug.” She threw her arms around you like you were old friends.

In shock, you just patted her shoulder blade.

They ushered you over to the couch and sat you down. The barrage of questions began pretty much immediately. They wanted to know everything from where you grew up to what you were studying at school to what you thought the future held for you. You told them you’d tell them everything they wanted to know if someone would share an embarrassing story about Bucky first.

“Did he ever tell you how he met you?” Sam asked.

“I know how we met. We bumped into each other on the street,” you said.

“We’re talking about the second time you met,” Steve said.

“He stalked you, basically,” Tony said.

“It was kind of sweet,” Natasha said.

You turned to Bucky. “What’s this about stalking?”

“I may have used technology to aid in bumping into you again.” He averted his eyes and picked at the label on his beer bottle.

“I’m speechless,” you said. “I am so flattered! A one hundred and three year old man braved the world of technology to find me?”

“Thanks, guys.” Bucky got up and headed to the elevator.

You followed after him. “Hey, where are you going?”

“To get some air,” he said. “Want to come along?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped inside.

“You have to see the roof,” he said.

“I think I’m a little underdressed. My coat is…”

Bucky pulled his burgundy sweater over his head and handed it to you. “This should keep you warm.”

“But you’re wearing just a t-shirt!”

“I run warm. I’ll be fine.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, revealing the New York City skyline, lit up against the night sky.

You gasped and scrambled into Bucky’s sweater, as the wind whipped your hair.

“I know,” Bucky said. “It’s definitely the best thing about living here.”

“It’s beautiful. It’s like seeing the City for the first time.”

“They love you, by the way. I knew they would.”

“I meant to ask you before,” you said. “What made you so sure they would love me?”

“Because I love you.” Bucky took both your hands. “I love you, y/n.”

You dropped his hands and crashed into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you said. “I’m so glad you did whatever you did to make us meet again.”

“Me too.” He stroked your hair, and you held him tighter.

Thank you so much for reading! I’d love to hear your feedback!! If you’d like to be tagged in future fics, please just send me an ask.

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[tynct]

Royals

masterlist

» summary: At the sight of Mark on one knee, the ring in the air with your hand in his, your mother gasps and the flute of champagne cracks against the ground.

» genre: fluff

» words: 1.3k

» a/n:  send me an au from this list with someone from nct

Mark tries to keep from smiling as your car passes through the large gates of the castle, the excitement of seeing you again after such a long time making it hard for him to match the stoic look on his father's face beside him. He doesn’t know the reason for your visit because he had immediately tuned out his parents words after they had mentioned your name.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior,” His father says right as your door is pulled open, and his hand latches onto Marks shoulder to keep him from darting forward. He sheepishly takes a step back under his harsh gaze, and the smile he had been trying so hard to conceal tugs at his lips the second he sees you exiting the car.

Mark had volunteered to take you on a tour of the castle despite you already knowing your way around, but his request hadn’t been denied, and he’s dying to grab your hand and lead you away from the stuffy atmosphere and uptight conversation.

The exchange of polite greetings last longer than Mark can stand, and when you peer over your mother’s shoulder to stick your tongue out at him, he fails to cover the his snort and cringes when their eyes turn to him.

“Mark,” his father snaps, and just before he can scold him, your mother interrupts lightly. She suggests that you two must be eager to reunite, and when you both nod, he sighs. “Of course. You may go, but-”

You run past your parents without waiting him for him to finish, Mark stumbling to catch up with a laugh that bounces off the walls once you enter the building. Secret passageways had been built into the castle years ago, and you grin as you push a panel at the end of a hallway, Mark barely making it inside just as the door snaps shut behind him.

“Shit,” Mark whispers. “I forgot it’s pitch black in here.”

“Did that stop us when we were younger?”

“Well, no, but it did give me a sprained ankle.”

“You barely fell, you baby. If I remember correctly, I was the one who had to drag you out of here.”

Mark laughs softly. “And then I was the one who had to hold your hand while I was getting my ankle wrapped because you were crying.”

“I was like 9; I thought you were going to die.”

“I’ve missed this.”

“What? Arguing with me?”

“Maybe,” Mark strains his eyes as he tries to make out your figure in front of him. The light poking out from the bottom of the door helps in finding where you’re standing, and he waves through the air until he manages to grab your hand. “C’mon, I bet I still know the way.”

The only place in the entire palace that’s more guarded than Marks bedroom is his mother's jewelry room, which had made it the perfect room to hide in if you didn’t want to be found. It had also been the first place you two had been lead to when you had discovered the tunnels.

“I know it’s somewhere around here- ah,” Mark pops open the door and coughs at the dust. He hasn’t been here since you had left, and he grins as you squeeze his hand and pull him to the large display case full of diamonds. His mother prides herself on having the most expensive collection of jewelry decorated in gems and gold, something he’s never cared about until he had seen your face light up at the sight of the different necklaces and bracelets.

What had surprised him the most was you didn’t reach for the beautiful rings weighted down by the large rocks sitting on them, but rather the plane silver one that had been placed aside from the others. It was still gorgeous, with designs engraved around the band. He remembers watching you slip it on your finger, and promising to himself that if he ever worked up the courage, he’d ask his mother for that ring and propose to you. It was a silly thought, because as he grew older, the words arranged marriage were thrown around more and more, and he had forgotten about that promise until you take the ring and twist it onto your finger.

His chest swells as you hold up your hand, showing off the glinting metal in the sun. “Yup, this is still the one thing I’d take from this room if I had to choose.”

“Then take it.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, but the look on his face makes you pause from admiring it. “Mark, I’m not stealing this.”

“She wouldn’t even notice if it was gone, Y/n.”

You shake your head as you move to take it off. Fear washes over your features as you pull on the ring, and he doesn’t think you’re being serious until you give another tug and sigh in exasperation when it doesn’t come off. “It’s stuck.”

Mark covers his mouth in amusement as you shake out your hand angrily. “Y/n, Y/n, wait- it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! What if your mother comes in here and-”

“She’s not going to come in here, trust me,” Mark says smoothly, trying to ease the growing panic in your voice as he examines the damage. The skin around the ring is already red, and he whistles when he tries to yank on it. “Well, we’re screwed.”

“Mark!” you hiss. “You’re not helping. Here, hold onto the ring and try pulling, okay?”

Mark hesitates to nod, biting down on his lip as you plant your feet on the ground. He leans back as you hold your breath, and he groans when the thing doesn’t even move. “I think we need to amputate.”

“Just pull on it!”

“I am! It isn’t budging, Y/n.”

“Maybe you’re not pulling hard enough,” you snap, and Mark narrows his eyes as you snatch your hand back. You don’t get a chance to try again as he hooks his fingers around the ring and quickly jerks back, not expecting it to slide off and he stumbles to the ground. “You did it!”

“See? I told you.”

You rub at the red skin as Mark props himself on his knee, glaring at the ring before glancing up at you with a smile that melts your heart. Neither of you notice the voices coming from the other side of the door until it’s too late. His and your parents stride in with a glasses of champagne, but at the sight of Mark on one knee, the ring in the air with your hand in his, your mother gasps and the flute of champagne cracks against the ground.

“You’re proposing?” she screams, and Mark jumps to his feet in a rush to explain.

“I wasn’t-!”

“This is such good news!” his father interrupts, and Mark chokes on his words as he claps your father on the back.

“The wedding,” his mother gasps. “We need to start planning.”

Before Mark can even open his mouth, everyone is gone, and you’re the only people left in the room. You’re frozen as you gape at where your parents had been, on the verge of chasing after them to tell them that no, although you have been in love with Mark since basically the first day you’ve met him, you two are not getting married, just in the wrong place at the wrong moment.

“Maybe..” Mark mumbles nervously, shyly staring at the ground as he plays with the ring. “We should just let them believe?”

You almost pass out then and there, having to lean against the wall to keep yourself up right. “What?”

“Just think about it; we were going to have our marriages arranged for us, and we already know each other, so wouldn’t you prefer this over marrying some stranger?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” you admit. “I guess you’re right. I’m glad it was you I was caught getting proposed to, then.”

[crackspinewornpages]

Macbeth -William Shakespeare

A1S1

On a heath there’s a storm and three witches plan to meet Macbeth.

A1S2

In a camp near Forres, King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain and Lennox meet a dying captain who was killed by the rebel, Macdonwald who was then killed by Macbeth. After his report Duncan has him carried off as Ross enters with the news the traitor Cawdor has been defeated and repelled and after celebrating Duncan orders Cawdor to be executed and to give is title to Macbeth. “What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won.”p.979

A1S3

Back on the heath the witches meet and talk about their day and prepare for Macbeth’s arrival. Macbeth and Banquo arrive and see the witches, Banquo wonders if they’re even human as they are on earth but don’t look like they belong on it. The witches hail Macbeth, “All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!” “All hail, Macbeth! That shalt be king hereafter.”p.980 Macbeth is confused and intrigued but they turn their attention to Banquo, “Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none!”p.980 (wonder what they could mean by that) Then they disappear and Macbeth and Banquo discuss the strange encounter when Ross and Angus enter to tell Macbeth he was just named Thane of Cawdor. Macbeth is focused on the prophecy coming true but Banquo is concerned, “and often times, to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths,”p.980 Macbeth ignores him thinking of how he will one day be king if he will have to commit ill acts (gets power and is immediately corrupted) and tells Banquo they’ll talk later.

A1S4

In the palace Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain and Lennox talk of Cawdor’s execution and Malcolm says he died nobly and Duncan thinks of how he trusted him. (certainly history won’t repeat itself) Macbeth, Banquo, Ross and Angus enter and Duncan thanks them for their heroism, how can he repay them. “The service and the loyalty I owe in doing it, pays itself.”p.981 Macbeth says his duties are to him and his children. Duncan announces he plans to make Malcolm his heir and Macbeth say he must inform his wife and to himself says thinks of how to make himself king. (can there by a comedy skit where A says this and character B: ‘what was that?’ A: ‘nothing’ C: ‘you just said you were planning to kill me’ A: ‘no no I didn’t’ B: ‘dude we are standing three feet from you’) “Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires;”p.982 Duncan then plans to visit Macbeth.

A1S5

In Macbeth’s castle Lady Macbeth reads a letter that proclaims Macbeth as the new Thane of Cawdor and his meeting with the witches. She wants her husband to fulfill it but believes he’s too soft to be ambitious. “Hie thee hither, that I may pour my spirits in thine ear, “p.982 A messenger enters to tell her her husband and the king are coming and she proclaims, “Unsex me here, and fill me from crown to the toe top full of direst cruelty;”p.982 (I won’t have my vagina stop me) So she can do what needs to be done. Macbeth arrives and informs her Duncan plans to leave tomorrow she tells him to beguile Duncan as he won’t see tomorrow and leave it all to her.

A1S6

Before the castle Duncan arrives and Lady Macbeth welcomes him saying it is a duty to the king. (which king Duncan or Macbeth discuss it in your English class)

A1S7

Servants prepare as Macbeth worries about what is to be done, “if the assassination could trommel up the consequence and catch with his surcease secure; that but this blow might be the by-all and the end-all here, “p.983 Duncan trusts him and is virtuous he is his kinsmen, “I have no spur to pick the sides of my intent, but only vaulting ambition,”p.983 Lady Macbeth enters telling him Duncan is asking for him and says he looks horrible, is he afraid, he would do it if he were a man, she’d kill a baby if she had to. (woah lady) “But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we’ll not fail.”p.984 Do it while he is sleeping and Macbeth hopes she wont ever have girls (yeah if they’re going to be like her) but he agrees to the plan to frame the chamberlains.

A2S1

Banquo and his son Fleance are in the castle’s court, Fleance says it’s midnight but Banquo wants to stay up. Macbeth surprise them, Banquo tells him the king is sleeping and he just had a dream of the witches, Macbeth lies that he doesn’t think of them and they’ll talk later. Alone Macbeth has a vision of a dagger and wonders if it’s real, “Or art thou but a dagger of the mind,”p.985 (that Star Trek episode where a doctor is brainwashing mental patients into placid zombies) He sees blood on it then decides it’s just nerves, he hears a bell and says he’ll go through with it. “I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knoll that summons thee to heaven or to hell.”p.985

A2S2

Lady Macbeth claims the alcohol made her bold when she hears Macbeth cry out fears the chamberlains woke and wonders how he couldn’t do it. Macbeth then comes to her confirming he went through with it as his hands are covered in blood and that the chamberlains did wake but went back to sleep after saying their prayers. “But wherefore could I not pronounce ‘Amen? I had most need of blessing, and ‘Amen’ stuck in my throat.”p.985 (like you did something very unholy) Then he thought he heard a voice through the whole house echoing sleep no more. “Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!”p.986 Lady Macbeth first tells him not to worry but then get angry when he forgot to frame the chamberlains and refuses to go back so she takes the dagger and does it. (fuck this I’ll do it myself) Macbeth wonders frightened, “will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hands?”p.986 Lady Macbeth returns, blood on her hands too and has Macbeth come to their chambers to wash.

A2S3

A porter hears knocking and grumbles about the noise, it’s Macduff and Lennox and Macduff is irritated the porter took so long to let them in. Macbeth enters and Macduff wants to see the king Macbeth says he’s still sleeping. Lennox describe the storm last night nothing like he’s ever seen (this is a sign something is wrong) as Macduff comes back screaming about the horror and has them both go to the king’s chambers. Macduff sounds the alarm, “Awake! Awake! Ring the alarm-bell. Murder and treason!”p.897 Lady Macbeth wakes and demands to know what is going on but Macduff won’t speak of murder to a woman. (hahaha if only you knew) Macbeth and Lennox come back with news that the king is dead and Malcolm and Donalbain are informed as they arrive and the chamberlains appear to have done it and are also dead. Macbeth claims to have done that as he was furious Macduff is suspicious (wait if you just found out he was killed when we got here how did-) but Lady Macbeth distracts them by fainting. Banquo will fight this treason, they agree with him and alone Malcolm and Donalbain discuss how they don’t feel safe, “where we are, there’s daggers in men’s smiles:”p.988 They’ll split to England and Ireland. (in no way could this be seen as suspicious)

A2S4

Outside the castle Ross and an old man discuss the strange happenings (not that happening) last Tuesday an owl killed a hawk and Duncan’s well trained horses turned wild, “broke their stalls, flung out, contending ‘gainst obedience, as they would make war with mankind.” “’Tis said they ate each other.”p.988 (see sign as the king was ordained by god going against that order throws nature out of wack) Macduff emerges and says Macbeth killed those responsible for the king’s death and will be crowned. Ross doesn’t like it, “’Gainst nature still! Thriftless ambition that will ravin up thine own life’s means!”p.988 Macduff says Malcolm and Donalbain fled and are now suspicious as they go home the old man adds, “Gods’ benison go with you; and with this that would make good of bad, and friends of foes!”

A3S1

In Forres, Banquo reflects on the prophecy fulfilling, if Macbeth becomes king what about the second part. (how you won’t be king but you sons will like you’ll be a great man or something and your sons will rise to kingship) Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Lennox and Ross enter to invite him to a celebratory feast, Banquo will come and says he plans to ride that afternoon. Macbeth says they should discuss Malcolm and Donalbain who fled and could be plotting against them and asks if Fleance is with him, yes, and they all leave, Macbeth with his attendant who informs him men are waiting for him at  the gate. Alone Macbeth gives a speech that Banquo was once his friend but now fears him and his sons, (ok you have no sons so it is possible you will name Banquo’s kids as your heirs a prophecy is all about interpretation I mean look at what happened to Voldemort) the attendant comes back with the murderers and Macbeth reminds them of their previous conversation of what a bad guy Banquo is. They are angry enough to kill him and Macbeth says he is also his enemy and for them to leave no traces as they kill him and his son too. “Banquo, thy souls flight, if it find heaven, must find out to-night.”p.990

A3S2

In the castle Lady Macbeth is in despair and has her husband sent for, “’tis safer to be that which we destroy than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.”p.990 When Macbeth enters she tells him not to be disconcerted, “what is done is done.”p.990 Macbeth says he is afflicted with dreams and that their business isn’t complete with Banquo and Fleance, but already carried out plans and tells her to play innocent during the feast. (so she has a pang of conscious but Macbeth tasted blood and won’t quail at spilling more)

A3S3

On the road the murderers ambush Banquo and Fleance. “O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! Thou mayst revenge.”p.991 As Fleance escapes (you two had one job) the murderers decided to report it to Macbeth.

A3S4

Everyone is seated at the banquet when one of the murderers has Macbeth talk to him, that he killed Banquo but Fleance escaped, Macbeth was pleased at first then angry his throne isn’t secure. As Macbeth rejoins the banquet Banquo’s ghost appears (Banquo…banquet see what you did there) in Macbeth’s seat Macbeth says the table is full but to everyone else the seat is empty. The others wonder what is wrong with him but Lady Macbeth says he does this all the time and to ignore him. Lady Macbeth tells him to act like a man and snap out of it, Macbeth tells them to look but the ghost disappears. Macbeth starts to recover and apologies when Banquo reapers and shocks him and disappears again as Macbeth has a fit and Lady Macbeth makes excuses for him and sends the guests away. “It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood:”p.993 He tells his wife Macduff plans to stay away and he will consult the weird sisters tomorrow to see what is plotting against him. “I am in blood stepp’d in so far, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o’er.”p.993 (well generally it’s best to stop murdering)

A3S5

On the heath the witches meet and Hecate (goddess of witchcraft) scolds them for meddling with Macbeth and she will take over and they will charm him into a false sense of security. (there’s a whole debate if Macbeth is a victim of fate or not I can’t tell you I never saw that Gargoyles episode)

A3S6

In the palace Lennox is discussing matters with a lord, Fleance was blamed for his fathers murder like Malcolm and Donalbain for Duncan. After the feast he suspects Macbeth and the lord says Macduff is in England to join Malcolm, “by the help of these-with him above to ratify the work-we may again give our tables meat, sleep in our nights, free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives.”p.994 (so being ruled under Macbeth sucks) Macbeth prepares for war and Lennox hopes Macduff will return soon.

A4S1

In a cave a cauldron boils and the three witches chant a spell Hecate compliments their work and there is a  knock one witch remarks, “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”p.995 Macbeth enters demanding to know the truth of their prophecies (and also what are they doing with the cauldron W: …dinner) and they summon apparitions to answer. An armored head, “Beware Macduff; beware the Thane of Fife.”p.995 A bloody child, “Be bloody bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn the power of man, for none of woman born shall harm Macbeth.”p.995 A crowned child holding a tree branch, “Macbeth shall never vanquish’d be until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill shall come against him.”p.995 (no man born of woman can harm him and when a forest travels across a hill remember what I said about interpretation) Macbeth is happy at this impossibility, then asks if Banquo will rule then Banquo’s ghost with eight children following, Macbeth demands to know the meaning of it but the witches vanish. Lennox says he saw nothing but when Macbeth hears Macduff is in England he resolves to end it, “give to the edge of the sword his wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls that trace him in his line.”p.996 (it’s going to be a very long summer)

A4S2

In Macduff’s castle, Lady Macduff feels betrayed by her husband leaving them, but Ross insists to trust her husband, he knows best before he leaves them. Lady Macduff worries how they will live with Macduff dead but her son insists he isn’t. A messenger comes saying that they are in danger they have to leave, Lady Macduff they are innocent. “But I remember now I am in this earthly world, where, to do harm is often laudable, to do good sometime accounted dangerous folly;”p.997 (side eyes current events) Then they are sieged and killed.

A4S3

In England’s palace Malcolm and Macduff talk, Malcolm doesn’t trust him since he left his family and could be working with Macbeth. “angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;”p.998 (see Paradise Lost) to see if he’s trust worthy Malcolm lists his vices. “in whom I know all the particulars of vice so grafted, that, wen they shall be open’d, black Macbeth will seem as pure as snow,”p.998 (so you slaughtered countless people) Malcolm says he sleeps with any woman, is greedy and prone to violence and doesn’t care for kingly behaviors. Macduff says he’s not fit to even live, “Thy royal father was a most sainted king; the queen that bore thee, oft’ner upon her knees than on her feet dies every day she liv’d.”p.999 Malcolm reveals he made it all up he is a godly man, “I am yet unknown to woman, never was forsworn, scarcely have coveted wat was mine own; at no time broke my faith,”p.999 (he’s a virgin I was the only one in my class to catch that) He embraces Macduff and a doctor comes to say a crew of wretched souls come for the king to cure evil.

Ross enters having come from Scotland to inform that Macduff’s family is well when he left them. But he urges Malcolm to return he says he will with ten thousand men and Ross breaks down. He confesses to Macduff his family was murdered and everyone in the castle. Malcolm tries to comfort him, “Be comforted: let’s make us medicine of our great revenge, to cure this deadly grief.”p.1000 Macduff is distraught and Malcolm tells him to turn it to anger and Macduff swears vengeance.

A5S1

In the castle a doctor and a woman are discussing Lady Macbeth’s condition of sleepwalking. Lady Macbeth then enters sleepwalking washing her hands, (this play is said to be cursed in one production during this scene the actress accidentally walked off the stage) “Out, damned spot! Out, I say!”-“yet who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him?”p.1001 the doctor declares this is beyond his practice, “unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles; infected minds to their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets;”p.1001 (translated your subconscious is bringing out your guilt) He tells to woman to watch her. (and we’ll see how well that turns out)

A5S2

Near Dunsinane, Lennox, Angus and others meet to discuss Malcom’s army, they will meet them near Birnam wood. Angus wonders how he feels, “now does he feel his title hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe upon a dwarfish theif.”p.1001 They march.

A5S3

In the Dunsinane castle Macbeth is talking to the doctor, he isn’t afraid since he heard the prophecy. (you ever hear of a self-fulfilling prophecy Voldemort can tell you all about it) A servant tells him there are a thousand soldiers and Macbeth says he doesn’t have friends in his age but curses. The doctor informs him his wife is worse Macbeth tell him to fix her, “cure her of that: const thou not minister to a mind diseas’d, “-“cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous that which weighs upon the heart?” “Therein the patient must minister to himself.” p.1002 (my teacher saw this as Shakespeare being advanced in saying there can be medicine for sick minds as psychology wasn’t invented yet)

A5S4

Near Birnam Wood, Malcolm, Macduff and others plan, Malcolm gives orders, “Let every soldier hew him down a bough and bear’t before him: thereby we shall we shadow the numbers of our host,”p.1003 (so the wood of Birnam is travelling across a hill) Malcolm hopes for the advantage and they march onward. (well they’re not Ents but I guess they’ll get the job done)

A5S5

In the castle Macbeth orders banners hung for the siege then hears a woman scream. Seyton informs him that Lady Macbeth is dead and Macbeth soliloquys in shock, “Life’s but a shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”p.1003 (1: thank you Simpsons for having this be the first piece of Shakespeare I memorized 2: a haunting way to say what we do in life can amount to nothing our lives are short and meaningless 3: Q recited it best no argument) A messenger informs him Birnam Wood is moving, Macbeth recalls the prophecy and declares he’ll die fighting.

A5S6

Before the castle Malcolm and his army advance, “Make all our trumpets speak; give the mull breath, those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.”p.1004

A5S7

On another part of the plain, Macbeth is arrogant because no man born of woman is impossible, Young Siward (who is this) calls him a tyrant they fight and he is slain. Macduff enters the fray haunted by his family and will fight Macbeth, “Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not,”p.1004 As Malcolm and Old Siward enter the castle, Macbeth and Macduff finally encounter each other. “Of all men else I have avoided thee but get thee back, my soul is too much chang’d with blood of thine already.”p.1004 (you killed his whole family one more is pretty moot at this point) Macbeth claims he won’t die to man born of woman but, “Macduff was from his mother’s womb untimely ripp’d.”p.1004 (cesarean section technically not born of a woman in the traditional sense) Macbeth is suddenly fearful for his life the prophecy came true but he will still fight.

Macbeth’s forces retreat Malcolm, Old Siward and Ross stand before the recaptured castle. Old Siward is informed of his son’s death and Siward calls him God’s soldier, a fair death. Better news, Macduff carries Macbeth’s head and proclaims Malcolm king of Scotland who then makes the Thanes Earls. In time friends who fled will come home, he invites those around him to watch him be crowned at Scone. (yay happy ending except for all that were murdered)

[morganaspendragonss]

Achilles and Patroclus

Major thanks for all the support on my fic yesterday! I love you guys so much! As thanks, here’s another Drumfred fic for you, although I’m not sure you’ll be thanking me after you’ve read it.

Episode 2x08 speculation, warning for heavy angst, character death, and absolutely no happy ending. Sorry.

Alfred strode down the palace hallways, searching for Drummond. It had been two weeks since they had returned from Scotland, and the pair tried to spend as much time together as possible, Drummond's wedding looming over them. He spotted Wilhelmina ahead of him and sped up to catch her. "Miss Coke," he called, practically running at this point. She stopped and turned to face him, smiling sweetly, if slightly strained. "Lord Alfred," she greeted courteously. "Have you by any chance seen Drummond anywhere? I thought he was at the palace today; I may, of course, be mistaken but.." Alfred's voice trailed off as Wilhelmina turned away from him, a sob escaping her. He frowned in confusion and concern. "Why, Miss Coke, whatever is the matter?" "Oh, Lord Alfred," she wailed. "Haven't you heard the news?" "News? What news?" "It's Mr Drummond, Lord Alfred. Last night he- he-" She dissolved into tears, unable to continue, and Alfred felt a horrible sense of foreboding. "He what, Miss Coke?" he gently coaxed, bending to her height and holding her arms. "It's alright, you can tell me." Wilhelmina sniffed and turned her face up to Alfred. her eyes were red and puffy, and her top lip wobbled as she spoke. "He had a meeting with Mr Peel last night, but as he left the house he- he was shot!"

Suddenly she threw her arms around Alfred and he held her as she sobbed into his chest. Alfred felt tears gather at his own eyes and a pain erupted in his chest, made worse by the realisation that Drummond may not have survived. He pulled away from Wilhelmina slightly and tapped her shoulder to get her attention. "Is he alive, Miss Coke? Do you know if he lives?" he asked, trying his best to conceal the way his voice shook and threatened to give out. "I- I believe so, Lord Alfred," she managed, bringing out a dainty handkerchief to wipe her eyes with. Part of Alfred knew that a proper gentleman would stay with her to make sure she was alright, but he couldn't stand the thought of being away from Drummond when he was injured, so he simply squeezed her hand and smiled gently at her. "I must be going now. I have... business to attend to." "Yes, of course. I do apologise for my behaviour just now; I don't know what came over me." "That's quite alright, Miss Coke. No need for an apology." She may have replied, but, if she did, Alfred didn't hear it, as he was off down the hall once more, panic and fear the only thing keeping him going.

---

After much asking, he finally found out where Drummond was being treated. He immediately set off to see him, ignoring all the paperwork he had to sort. When he arrived at the place, he suddenly found himself unable to step over the threshold. It felt like a vice had begun tightening around his chest, preventing him from breathing, and he placed a hand on the wall to steady himself. He breathed deeply for a few moments, until feeling had somewhat abated, and then screwed up what remained of his courage and entered.

---

Drummond wasn't awake when Alfred first walked in, but he was breathing, which was a good sign. His face was pale and his dark locks were sticking up every which way, which brought a fond smile to Alfred's face. There were bandages wrapped around his chest and abdomen which were spotted with red in places, and Alfred stretched out his fingers to touch them before catching himself and drawing back. Checking to make sure no one was around, he leant over and tenderly brushed a few strands of Drummond's hair out of his eyes, stopping suddenly when Drummond began to stir. Alfred waited, barely breathing, as Drummond's eyes cracked open, his face contorting in pain, but still lighting up when he noticed Alfred stood above him. "Alfred," he breathed, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "Drummond," Alfred replied, relieved. Drummond coughed and moaned, but still managed to rasp: "Edward." Alfred to huffed a laugh. "Edward," he amended, standing up straight. "It's good to see you, my friend," his voice catching on the word 'friend'. Drummond barely nodded, and his eyes drifted shut again, but Alfred knew he was still awake. He began talking about anything he could think of; the goings on at the palace, Francatelli's latest creations, the blossoming something between Ernest and Harriet. Every so often he noticed Drummond's eyebrows raise a fraction, or spot a tiny smile of his face, and so he kept talking for as long as he could. Some time later, a doctor arrived to usher him out. Alfred left with promises to return, and a light brushing of his knuckles against Drummond's.

---

Alfred visited as often as he could over the next four days. Sometimes his duties at the palace were inescapable, but he usually managed to worm his way out of them.

It was on the fifth day after the shooting that Alfred woke up with a horrible feeling in his chest, and he knew he needed to be by Drummond's side immediately. He dressed quickly and set out, ignoring anyone calling for his attention, manners be damned.

---

He was too late.

---

It was Alfred who had to take the news to the queen and Prince Albert. A terrible blush crept up his cheeks as he stuttered and stumbled his way through it, words sticking in his throat, but she barely noticed. "Oh, how awful!" she cried, visibly distressed, turning towards Albert for comfort. He put an arm round her shoulders and kissed her hair, muttering assurances Alfred pretended not to hear. "If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty?" he asked, clearing his throat. "Yes, of course, Lord Alfred," she said distractedly. As he turned to go, however, she called him back for a moment. "Drummond was engaged, wasn't he?" she asked. "Yes, I believe he was ma'am. A Lady Florence, if I remember right." She nodded and sighed softly. "Poor Florence." "Yes," Drummond echoed bitterly. "Poor Florence."

---

The funeral was six days later. Alfred stood near the back and watched as Drummond was taken into the vaults to be buried. A pretty girl he assumed to be Florence clung to her father's arm as tears slipped silently down her cheeks. He noticed other mourners crying too, but, try as he might, no tears sprung to Alfred's eyes. He felt numb, like all the joy had been sucked out of the world the moment Drummond had taken his final breath.

---

Alfred only wore black in the days that followed. He made it so it wasn't too noticeable, but some - Wilhelmina especially - gave him knowing, sympathetic looks. Mostly, though, he didn't particularly care what others thought of him.

He also didn't touch the Iliad for quite some time. Patroclus's death was all the more affecting, and whenever he read it, he couldn't help but be reminded of that conversation a lifetime ago in Scotland. At the time, it had seemed such a small moment of happiness, but now he wished he could go back and live in it forever, if only to hear Drummond's voice once more.

I’m... sorry?

Tagging: @midnightanddiamonds @sherlockisnewsexy @emsypi @paynendlessly @rycbarmerlin @raggedy-girl-in-the-tardis @overflowingmind-welp @winterfellmaiden @automationbaby @holisticagent @otakudessertsaddicted @bingecrafting @eyesuponthesecondhand @somosinevitables @hedgehog221b @northqueensguard

As always, if you want to be tagged in any future fics, please comment or drop me an ask!

[theofficialcunt]

Simplicité - Chapter 5