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whoslai · 9 months

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seventy two hours - l. heeseung 📓🧑🏻‍🎓

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

↣ lee heeseung x fem!reader (both are 18)

↣ it’s the summer after high school; heeseung has been in love with his childhood friend, y/n. despite his efforts to make her see how he feels, she remains oblivious. with only three days left before they both go off to college, he must find a way to win her heart before it's too late. will he succeed, or will he have to let go of his love and move on?

↣ warnings: MDNI! making out, cunnilingus, fingering, jerking off, voyeurism, unprotected sex, overstimulation, love confessions, creampie, explicit sex, teasing, dirty talk, body marking, & more.

↣ genre: fluff, angst, smut, slice of life au

↣ wc: 4.1k

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

“lee heeseung,” you called, poking your head out of your window to look down at the sweaty boy who just so happened to live next door to you. he’d been bouncing a basketball in his driveway all night and it was driving you nuts!

to your incredulity, heeseung cocked his head to look up at you, smiling from ear to ear as he saw you. “y/n.” he sighed, holding his basketball to his chest. “have you been standing there the whole time?”

“no! unlike you, i’m trying to get some sleep. it’s 2 in the morning and you’ve been bouncing that ball since 7.” you whined, leaning against the window seal as you rubbed your sleepy eyes.

“oh? so you’re keeping track of how long i’ve been out here..?” he smugly remarked, dropping the ball into his yard as he wiped sweat from his forehead. “do i interest you that much, y/n?”

“heeseung.” you glared at him, “please let me sleep.”

he smiled, “you should come out here with me. i can show you how to shoot a 3 pointer.”

shaking your head, you closed your window. you huffed as you laid back in your bed, tiredly sighing as you heard him pick his ball up and bounce it against the pavement again. another day, another night spent trying to drown out heeseung.

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

your next few days were spent dorm shopping with your mother; you’d been accepted into northwestern university to study journalism on a full scholarship. you truly were excited to start a new chapter of your life and explore yourself and the environment around you.

you’d be even happier if you didn’t have a little baby whining in your ear every day about the fact that you were moving across the country. of course, living next to heeseung meant you two were very close, almost too close. it got to the point of him being immensely comfortable with complaining about how it was “odd” if you to look forward to moving away from everyone you’ve ever known.

while yes, moving from a small town in virginia to a larger city in illinois would take some time getting used to, but that didn’t mean it would justify you being fearful. what was there to be afraid of? people move all the time, it wasn’t as though you’d be the first person to leave family for college. heeseung was just being dramatic, per usual.

“you really should just stay here, i don’t see why you can’t just go to school online.” heeseung shrugged, holding his knees to his chest as he sat on your bed, watching you take down the polaroids of you and friends from your walk to pack away for your dorm.

you smiled, shaking your head at him. “heeseung, you’re acting like i’m not going to come back on breaks. it’s not my fault you chose to stay here for college.”

“you’re right, i DID choose to stay here. wanna know why?” he asked.

you propped your hand on your hip and raised your eyebrow at him. “i know you want to tell me, so just go ahead and say it.”

“because…” he trailed off, anxiously biting his lip as he began again. “because everything i’ll ever need is here, virginia is my home; our home. why would you leave all this behind when everything you need is right here?”

you shrugged, “i don’t see what’s here in virginia that i can’t find in illinois. my parents plan to travel while i’m gone so there’s not much keeping me here.”

heeseung pouted. “ouch.”

“aw.” you laughed, “you know im going to miss you when i leave. how could i forget you and that stupid basketball you keep me awake with…”

heeseung smiled a bit, but you could tell there was some sadness behind it. “maybe we could play together?”

“hmmm…” you hummed. “we could, but i’d rather do something else. why don’t we do like a sleepover and binge on a bunch of movies? pull an all nighter or something.”

“a sleepover?” heeseung asked, sitting up and licking his lips. “as in…like me sleeping over here or…you sleeping at my house?”

“either. it doesn’t matter to me.” you smiled, grabbing some tape to close the box of pictures and placed it to the side. “but, you and i both know how strict my mom is about you being over. she would make you sleep on the couch downstairs.”

he slowly nodded, “true…”

“so we should probably just go to your place, yeah?” you asked him, glancing back at him. “i’m assuming you want me in the same bed as you, so we’re better off just doing it over at yours.”

he scoffed, “what?! who says i want you to sleep in my bed?”

“me.” you smiled, tossing the box off to the side. “like helloooo, look at me. who wouldn’t want me to sleep in their bed?”

heeseung married his eyes at you. “you are so…”

“i’m kidding~” you laughed, taking a seat at your desk. “i’d only get in your bed anyway.”

“wait really?” heeseung asked you, his ears perking up. “why only mine?”

“because you’re my bestie. now, go clean your room. i’ll be over in a few hours.” you told him, spinning around to organize the papers on your desk.

he laughed a bit before kicking the back of your seat as he made his way out.

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

a few hours after heeseung had left, you’d found yourself drying your hair after taking a quick shower. you slipped on some shorts and a tee whilst grabbing your bag full of sleepover essentials.

making your way over to his house, you caught sight of his bedroom light being on and reflecting a shadow; a figure all too similar to his own. squinting your eyes up at him, you began to make sense of what you were seeing.

he stood near the window, head lowered while his arm appeared to repeatedly move in a swift motion….was he jerking off?

your heart skipped a beat when his head fell back and you looked down at the ground, contemplating whether or not you could simply walk in and face him after watching his shadow through his bedroom window.

biting your lip, you slowly turned to walk back to your house, his front door opened.

“y/n!!” his mothers voice rang in your ears from behind. you quickly turned back, being met by his mother waving for you to come. “i saw you standing out here! come on in, heeseung told me you were sleeping over…?”

you nodded, walking over to her. “um yeah! that’s um…that’s the plan.”

she closed the door behind you as you stepped in and slipped your shoes off. “well, that’s cute. i’m happy to see you two spend more and more time together, especially with you leaving in a few days.” she sighed, clasping her hands together. “i’ve always adored your friendship.”

“ahhh..” you smiled, nodding your head. “yeah, just a few more days.”

she frowned, “we’re all going to miss you very much!”

“i’ll come back and visit!” you exclaimed. she smiled, patting your shoulder as she signaled for the stairs.

“heeseung is up in his room. i’m not quite sure what he’s doing but he’s expecting you so just feel free to knock. i’ve got food in the kitchen and his father is down in the basement. if you guys need anything, just let me know. okay?”

“yes ma’am, and thank you!” you nodded at her, hurrying up the stairs.

as you stood in front of his closed bedroom door, you inhaled a deep breath, nervous to step in.

after standing there for a while, you brought your hand up to the door and knocked. “hey, heeseung. it’s me.”

you waited a while, hearing him reply, “kay, one sec…”

you rested your back against the wall opposite of his door, placing your hand over your chest as your heart rate began to increase. you wondered if you truly saw what you thought you saw outside or if you were just reading the situation wrong. you wondered if he was done shooting his hot load onto the nearest surface. you wondered if his cock was still twitching in his hand as he helped himself ride out his high by teasing his tip or even continuing to stroke his shaft.

“hey,” he said as he greeted you. his hair was damp and his shirt hung low off his collar bone, exposing some of his chest.

“took you long enough.” you scoffed, brushing past him as you attempted to play it cool, not wanting him to suspect anything.

he closed the door behind you and you sat on his bed, tossing your bag on the ground as you laid back and took your phone out.

“i didn’t prepare anything.” he said, “i’ve been laying in bed since i left your house.”

you looked at him as he sat beside you, awkwardly bringing his knees to his chest. “are you sure about that?”

“sure about what? laying in bed…?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

you nodded, “surely you haven’t been in bed for the past 5 hours.”

“i mean, for the most part.” he shrugged. “what does it matter?”

“it doesn’t…i was just being nosey.” you said, looking away from him and sighing. “it’s hot in here.”

“it’s like 70 degrees…” he trailed off.

you sat up quickly, facing him. “we should play a game, you down?”

“yeah.” he said, “go for it.”

you smiled, “truth or dare?”

he rolled his eyes and leaned back against his wall. “truth.”

“is it true that you’re going to be a big cry baby and have a tantrum on my last day here?” you teased, pushing him.

“bold of you to assume i’m even going to your send off.” he scoffed.

your smile fell, “wait, you aren’t coming?”

“if i go, i’ll miss you too much while you’re gone.” he pouted.

you smiled again, “awwww…stop flirting with me.”

he shrugged, “truth or dare?”

“dare, of course.” you said. “give me the best you’ve got.”

his eyes glanced to the side, then back at you. “mmm, i dare you to tell me one of your biggest fears.”

you flared your nose. “that’s the lamest dare. that’s all you could come up with? make it fun!”

“i don’t know…um…do a handstand or something.” he shrugged once again.

you titled your head to the side, shifting your hips on his bed. “are you okay?”

“uh..why?” he asked you. it was obvious that something was off with him, anybody who knew heeseung could tell that his body language was different than his normal; he was being awkward and he wasn’t talking as much as he usually did. the fact that he wasn’t even making an effort to flirt with you in the grossest ways possible was throwing you off.

not to say you LIKED being flirted with but…come on, you kind of missed it.

“you’re being so weird.” you told him, glancing down at his shirt again.

he sighed. “i’m a bit tired, that’s all.”

you were quiet for a bit. was he tired from cumming a few minutes before? could his orgasm have been so intense that it made him groggy? reserved?

“truth or dare?” you asked him, your eyes fixated on your own. you wanted to know why he picked right before you came over to touch himself. why he’d do it right in front of his window, and most of all, why he was trying to pretend like he wasn’t just making a mess in his room before you came?

“truth.” he said.

“what are you tired from?” you asked him, intensely gazing into his eyes.

he smiled a little, “basketball practice this morning. just the usual.”

“that’s all?” you asked him once again, feeling a bit antsy from the smile that was plastered on his face.

“is there something else you’re thinking i did?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

your tongue slid over your lower lip, feeling a wave of heat fall over your head. “i…”

his eyebrow raised. “you..?”

“i saw you.” you admitted, feeling your once assertive demeanor fade into a timid one.

he bit his lip, attempting to hold back his smile from growing wider. as his eyes trailed down, he leaned his head back against the wall. “saw me doing what?” you looked away from him, reaching back to grab your phone but his hand grabbed your arm. “no, say it. don’t start something if you can’t finish it…”

“dude, i didn’t see anything. i don’t know what i’m talking about.” you told him, pulling your arm away from him and crossing your legs, hoping that he didn’t the arousal that was seeping through your gray shorts.

he stood up, walking over to his window and opening the curtains. “saw me standing here earlier, right?”

you ignored him, staring down at your phone and scrolled through your instagram. before you realized it, heeseung was standing in front of you. he slid his index finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “saw me hand fucking myself, yeah?”

you slowly nodded, entranced at his intense eye contact.

“ah ah ah,” he tsked in a disapproving manner. “use your words, you’re a big girl.”

“yes..” you whispered, feeling small underneath his gaze.

“there you go,” he cooed. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“no. i just…why did you do that…right in front of your window? right before i came over?” you asked him.

“why do you think?” he asked, sighing. “isn’t it obvious?”

“no?” you replied, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he dropped his hand to his side. “y/n, i like you. i’ve liked you since you moved next door to me.” he admitted, breaking eye contact to look down at your phone that still rested in your hand. “i couldn’t go a whole night stuck in my room with you with a straight face. it would’ve been harder than you think.”

“you like me?” you asked him, shocked.

“you’re so oblivious, i swear..” he scoffed, walking away from you and closed his curtains. “anyway, it’s not like it matters now anyway. you’re leaving in a few days.”

you scooted forwards a bit, “w-why would you just now tell me? i had no idea, heeseung. you couldn’t have told me like…freaking years ago?!”

“i told you because i wouldn’t have to face you when you rejected me. duh.” he weakly laughed, turning away from you and shuffling through some of his clothing.

you held onto the sheets underneath you, feeling completely at a loss at his words.

“i wouldn’t reject you, heeseung.” you told him.

“yeah you would, no need to lie about it.” he shrugged. “i’ve already coke to terms with it, it’s over with.”

tears began to pool in your eyes. you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that your best friend, neighbor, childhood crush was admitting his feelings to you 72 hours before you moved across the country. “heeseung, i…”

“you don’t have to let me down lightly, y/n. it’s cool, don’t worry.” he sighed, sitting down back beside you as he rubbed his arms. “are you hungry? there’s some f-“

you cut him off with a kiss, holding his face against your own. he was stiff at first, shocked. but soon, he kissed you back and pulled you onto his lap. his hands roamed over your curves, from your waist down to your ass.

but then, he pulled away and held your wrists. “y/n, why…why are you doing this?

tears fell from your eyes as you looked ahead at him, feeling your heart sadden at him; heeseung was so perfect. he had the cutest pair of large brown eyes along with a beautiful smile and a soothing voice. how could you have been so blind before? he was all you could ask for in a guy. he never made you feel uncomfortable, he was sweet, and he went above and beyond when doing things for you. how could you leave him in 3 days?

“because i like you too, heeseung.” you told him. “please don’t push me away. please.”

he looked at you, his eyes reflecting the same sadness you’d felt. he pressed his lips back to your own, holding your chest against his as he gently mended his lips with yours.

he let go of your wrists, using his hand to lay you flat on your back and lay atop of you. your hands caressed his cheeks, melting into the feeling of him. as the kiss deepened, you felt his hands moving up from your waist to your breasts, massaging your erect areola through your shirt. you moaned into his mouth, feeling a wave of arousal wash over you. heeseung pulled away, looking into your eyes.

“do you want this?” he asked, his eyes searching for any doubt or hesitation in your expression.

you nodded, “so bad.”

with that, he leaned back down to kiss you again, this time with more passion and intensity. you felt his hands moving down to your shorts, slipping them off along with your panties. he broke the kiss to look at you, taking in your naked form beneath him.

“you’re so perfect,” he whispered, before leaning down to kiss your neck. “so beautiful, so pretty.”

you whined his name, feeling his lips and tongue working their way down your body. heeseung spent a long time exploring every inch of your skin, eliciting moans and gasps from you with every touch.

he left wet kisses down your stomach down to your thighs, laying between your legs and propping them onto his shoulders. “y/n,” he whispered, “has anyone ever…done this to you before?”

you shook your head, “no, heeseung. no one has.”

he licked his lips, sucking on your dripping outer labia, sticking his tongue inside to flick his wet muscle against your achining clit.

“oh!” you squealed, arching your back at the surge of pleasure that rolled through your pelvis. “heeseung, oh my..”

he continued to pleasure you with his mouth, soon slipping in a finger to add to your pleasure. you gripped onto the sheets underneath you as you felt his rough fingertips rubbing against your convulsing walls, feeling a knot build up in your stomach.

“oh shit, heeseung….” you cried, throwing your head back as he held onto your thighs, forcing you down harder against his mouth. “i think i’m gonna…i think i’m gonna..”

he lifted his head up, replacing his tongue with his thumb as he kissed your thighs. “cum for me, baby.”

you squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm ripped through your body, making your hips sputter. essense dripped out of your tender pussy as you moaned, closing your thighs over his hand.

he kept rubbing his thumb over your sensitive clit, “heeseung, stop. please, please, i can’t. it hurts…please…”

he crawled back up to kiss you, running his fingers through your hair. “we can stop now, if you want.”

you held his face, caressing his cheek. “no, i..i want to go all the way.”

“have you had sex before?” he asked.

you shook your head, “i’ve only…done other stuff. never went all the way.”

he kissed you once before sitting up. “before we do this, i just want you to know that i’ve liked you for…a very, very long time. even on the days where we wouldn’t talk, all i thought about was you. i couldn’t bring myself to date anyone else throughout highschool when i would go home and see you through your window, looking as pretty as ever. my heart has always belonged to you, and i hope that even when you go off work college, you always remember that i’ll always hold tight onto the thought of you, keeping you close to my heart. forever and always.”

you felt tears welling up in your eyes at his words, knowing how much courage it must have taken for him to say them. you took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“i will always remember, heeseung,” you said, your voice filled with emotion. “and i will always hold onto the memories we’ve made together.”

he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips conveying all the emotions he couldn’t put into words. you felt his hands moving down to pull his pants down and he tightly held your hand within his, signaling that he was going to begin.

you felt the his cock poke against your pussy, making you gasp when you felt how hot and wet his tip was.

“squeeze my hand if it hurts and i’ll stop right away. sound good, pretty girl?” he asked, looking into your eyes.

“okay, i’m ready…” you told him, glancing down at his length prodding against your entrance. slowly but surely, you felt him slowly begin to push himself into your tight hole, stirring when you subconsciously clenched at the stretch. “y/n,” he huffed half laughed, “don’t squeeze like that. you’re gonna make me cum.”

you smiled a bit, “sorry..”

he kissed you again, glancing down and applying pressure to your tummy. “just relax, let me do the work.”

you complied, biting your lip as he bottomed out inside of you, not moving. you felt stuffed, one wrong move and he would impale your cervix. but something about the whole ordeal was turning you on so much, you could cum again without him even moving.

“feel okay?” he asked.

you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him down to kiss you. you rolled your hips against his own, itching for some type of stimulation.

he thrusted his hips into your own, starting at a slow pace as he reached down to being your leg over his back.

you moaned with pleasure, feeling a sense of euphoria wash over you as he brought you closer to another orgasm. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you as you met his thrusts with your own.

heeseung picked up the pace, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. you moaned into his mouth, your fingers scratching at his back as you held on for dear life.

heeseung pulled back, breaking the kiss to look down. "shit, your pussy is squeezing me," he moaned. “i’m gonna cum…”

you could feel his cock twitching inside you, signaling his impending release. the mere thought of him coming inside you sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.

you cried out his name, your body convulsing with pleasure as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm. heeseung finally slowed down, his movements becoming more gentle as he rode out his own release.

with a final thrust, you felt his hot load shoot deep inside of your walls, panting the pink walls a tinge of white.

heeseung propped himself up, pulling his sensitive cock out of you and taking a deep breath.

he slipped his boxers back on and you claimed your breathing as you heard him walk away, coming back with a damp towel. you felt him wipe down your most sensitive areas and finish off with your face.

he tossed the towel to the side and helped you slip your panties back on along with your top. without a second thought, you held onto him, cuddling into the warmth of his exposed chest.

heeseung cuddled you back, laying beside you as he pulled his covers over the both of you.

“you did so well, y/n.” he whispered, planting a soft kiss against your nose. “was it okay?”

“more than okay…” you told him, closing your eyes and yawning. “thank you..for everything. for confessing to me and for making me cum twice in one night.”

he awkwardly laughed, shifting against you. “yeah…sure. are you sleepy?”

you order, “super sleepy.”

“sleep, we can talk more in the morning.”

and with that, you fell asleep. you weren’t sure what the future held for you and heeseungs relationship. all you knew was that you loved him for him. he was your friend, your first time, and now your first love. only time would tell for your relationship.

• ₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

authors note: here’s another lil fic! got bored and wanted to do a cute lil heeseung story, hope u liked it! 😊

#enhypen smut #enhypen ff #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff

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house-of-lovin · 11 months

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legally binded - 4

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev part | next part

Chapter 4: Family Bonding, Festivals and Feelings?

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Things are gearing up 😮‍💨 (ik i said i was gonna take a break, but i couldn’t help myself, now ill take a break lol, happy readin!)

Word Count: 6k+

“No one’s going to get cancelled — it’ll be fun.” Colin Jost smiles curtly on your flat screen TV.

You sit on the bed with a spoon hanging from your lips, an eye on the bright screen having just finished watching a rerun of Jenna’s SNL episode. You made sure to buy it as soon as it was available; locking yourself away in your room.

Currently, you are watching this week’s episode of SNL and Colin and Che are giving their weekly news update.

“Las Vegas is opening up a pop-up vaccine site in a strip club and don’t worry the strippers say the vaccine comes with singer and actress Y/N L/N. This time she’ll be the designated driver – I heard she’s on a tight leash.”

Your smile instantly drops.

“Speaking of Y/N,” Colin bounces off, reading off the cue cards. “Did you see her last week sitting in the audience during Jenna Ortega’s episode… hey, I wonder if they’re a real thing.”

Colin and Che share a knowing glance, “Nah.” They say in unison then move on to their next bit.

Scowling, you turn the TV off, practically throwing your bowl of cereal on the side table.

You supposed you can’t be too mad – all too familiar with the snide jabs and harmless jokes from others in the industry. This is what you signed up for, right?

Whatever, you’re sure people are loving it.

It’s been a whole week since you left New York and you haven’t spoken to Jenna. It seems how you two acted back in the Big Apple was a success because it got your managers to back off, for now. You didn’t see a reason to contact the actress so you let the silence pass — you see when she posts on social media.

You don’t have time to think about it because Coachella weekend is coming up soon. For the first time since Vegas, you will be working and you have been itching – wanting nothing more than to dive head-first into work mode.

It’s what you do best.

You are invited to do a guest performance on a big producer’s set for the festival. It would be your first ever time performing at Coachella but you were privy to the culture of the festival, having gone as an audience member to support your musician friends.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Link pops his head in your door, holding a phone up.

–

“Please don’t do this.” Your pleas go underheard.

“I don’t know why you keep trying, the answer is the same Y/N.” Link rolled his eyes, pointing to a house.

“I think this is the one.”

You scan the two-story typical American home tucked away in the boroughs of suburbia up in the desert, otherwise known as Coachella Valley.

Or well, Jenna’s parent’s house at least.

After Link had dropped the most terrible news; you had to be seen with Jenna in Coachella. Liv and Jake had instructed your team to drive you to stay with Jenna as you prepare for the festival – it was convenient they said.

Convenient my ass.

“Relax... Marcus will be back to pick you up, he’s gonna drop off your bags at the rental house.”

“Why can’t I just go with you then?” You ask.

“Liv said to drive you to this address. Jenna gave explicit directions to drive you here.”

You frown pulling on a loose thread on your sweater.

What could Jenna possibly want that she’d want you here? She looked pretty upset at you, the last time you talked.

You really don’t have it in you to fight with her, again, especially after the long drive from L.A. up to the desert where you thought — you’d be staying in your villa for Coachella weekend.

“Now go see the girl, please.” Link reaches over to open the door.

When you step out, the car is already driving speedily down the street not even giving you a chance to change your mind. You hear a flurry of voices from the side of the house but it sounds far away. Toy cars and trollies litter the grass yard.

Slowly, you walked up her porch, your shoes scraped as you ascend the concrete steps. Hesitating for a brief moment, you realize: Jenna is inside. Well duh. But the thought of her on the other side of the door has your heart dropping out of nowhere. You see flashes in your memory of her frown as you explain why you have to leave New York so soon.

Unspoken words as she says ‘well I thought–’

What did she think?

You would probably never know.

The door opens with a creak breaking you out of your thoughts.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Aliyah leans against the doorframe, smiling.

You laughed, “Yeah, we do.”

She doesn’t say anything else and just yells over her shoulder, “Jenna, she’s here.”

Then walked off.

“Hi…” Jenna appears, leaning on the doorframe with a hand.

She scans you for a brief moment; not having seen you since New York, a week ago. She had to make sure you’re still alive because she hasn’t heard from you since then.

You also practically ghosted her.

After feeling guilty about how she left things with you, Jenna sent you a text the next day, asking if you made it back to Los Angeles safely.

You liked her message with a thumbs up.

A thumbs up! Not responding would have been better, the actress bitterly thought.

“Hey.” You greet. “How are you?”

“Fine. You?” She answered quickly, smile sealed tight like an envelope.

“I’m… good. Yeah. Just working.” You answer honestly.

“Oh really?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah, something for Coachella actually.”

Jenna raised her brows in surprise. “Like what?”

You send a tight-lipped smile, “It’s a surprise. People don’t know I’m here yet.”

Jenna can’t fight her excitement; giddy about being in on a secret. But then she remembers that she’s supposed to be annoyed at you and not fascinated.

“Why haven’t you texted me?” Jenna sighed, her voice dropping to a lowly whisper, in case someone was walking by.

You raised your brows, surprised by her question. “Oh… um. I’ve been busy like I said, just working, trying to keep my head down and all that.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” She asked accusingly.

You missed her tone and shrugged, reassuring her, “Yeah. Of course.”

“But, I heard you were busy this week too, filming another movie with Barry Keoghan and The Weeknd?” You changed the subject, hoping to talk about something else. She takes the bait after scanning your eyes for a second.

“Yeah, it was just a short role. But it was a lot of fun. Abel actually talked about you.”

“That’s great, I’m happy for you Jen… and yeah he’s an old friend.”

“Sung your praises pretty high, I had to make sure he was talking about the right person.”

You chuckle, “Oh okay, I see how it is.”

Your laugh caused a sudden warmness to manifest in Jenna and she couldn't help but join along. “Come on, my family has been dying to see you again.”

“Really?” You asked, stepping inside her childhood home. “So you think I made a good impression?”

She turned to look back at you, surprised that you care. “Maybe… don’t let it get to your head, though.”

You laughed as you followed her through the house. “Is that jealousy I hear Ortega? Scared you won't be the only movie star around?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Shut up. You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot that may have impressed your family?” You cocked your head and grinned wide.

“Yeah, yeah. Like, I said. Don’t let it get to your head. They could care less about celebrities and Hollywood. They’re pretty grounded.”

You shrugged, looking at the various family pictures hanging on the wall. “It’s fine. There’s only one Ortega I want to impress anyway.”

You’re not sure where that came from and it seemed Jenna shared the same thought because she raised her brows at you – but didn’t comment.

Jenna blocks you from walking when you reached the sliding glass door. “What?”

Jenna chewed her lip anxiously, “My family can be a lot. In numbers and in the other sense too. There’s a lot of us.”

“Oh… that’s okay.” You answered. A bit confused as to why she is telling you this. When you see her genuine concern your gaze softens. “Jenna, relax. I can handle the family… and I can charm anyone’s socks off.”

She relented, rolling her eyes at your joke. “Okay, okay.”

"Wait..."

Jenna turns around.

"Why am I here exactly? At your parents, that is. Link told me that you gave my driver instructions to bring me here."

Jenna bites her lip in contemplation. "Um—like I said my family wanted to see you again and I heard you were going to Coachella anyway so you know, two birds one stone."

You nod, accepting her answer.

Jenna opens the door for you two to step out.

–

Sounds of laughter rang around as you and Jenna sat in lawn chairs in her parent’s backyard.

“What are Timothee Chalamet and Zendaya like in real life?” Markus – Jenna’s brother leaned forward to ask.

“Markus!” Jenna scolded and threw her brother a glare.

The actress blushed as she sat beside you but all she felt was the vibrations of your laughter, indulging her brother’s question.

Jenna can’t help but wonder if you have other family members that spend time with you like this. You look so carefree and genuinely happy; comfortable around her family — after knowing you for a couple months now; she guesses it’s a no.

“They’re cool. Just like everyone else to be honest. Especially, Timothee, sweet guy but he’s a bit of a typical frat bro.” You joked, “And Zendaya, well. She’s just as amazing as everyone says she is. Great work ethic, it’s inspiring when you work with someone passionate like that – makes you want to be better and work harder.”

Jenna’s sisters are eating your story up. Secretly she knew they enjoyed the tales of celebrities and pop culture. It’s nearly impossible to live your life without seeing a public figure pop up on an ad on your phone or on the side of a bus stop on your drive home.

Jenna is barely home enough to be able to have moments like this where she can humour her sister's questions. But they all had their own lives to live. She's has been looking forward to this break for a while, knowing it was coming up after her long week in New York.

She still can’t describe New York.

Something seems to have shifted between you two by the end of the week. But she didn’t know if it was for the better. The two of you have this constant push and pull; where everything is fine one moment, then one of you says something and it turns tense and weird as you both stay silent or you just completely blow up on each other.

Jenna didn’t know if she had it in her to try to decipher what these restrained responses she gets from you could possibly mean.

You are an enigma; a defensive, hot-headed asshole that grinded every gear the actress had.

“Do you like Zendaya, buddy?” You bounced her niece in your lap, enjoying how the baby grabbed at your fingers.

But then Jenna turns around and you act like this. Sweet, protective, charming.

How are you the same person?

She can’t fight her smile as she watched the adorable sight.

Jenna didn’t know you were good with babies.

“I think Z would think you’re just the most adorable thing. Oh my god, Jen, can I send her a picture of us?” You turned to her, with a bright smile.

Jenna didn’t know when you started calling her by her nickname but she certainly won’t say how she enjoys how it sounds when you say it. “Uh–sure, if it’s okay with my sister.”

“Zendaya’s gonna have a picture of my baby on her phone? Uh yes!”

Jenna laughed, nodding. “I’ll take the picture.” She took your phone, opening the camera.

“What are you doing? Get in here with us." You asked with an adorable scrunch in the nose, surprising Jenna.

“Oh, I just thought— okay.” She swallows her growing grin, sliding in beside you.

Her sisters share knowing glances.

You happily scooted in, pressing your chest to her back.

Jenna is suddenly reminded of her you and her, alone in her dressing room.

She presses back into you.

“Say, cheese guys!” Jenna clears her throat.

With big bright smiles, you placed your head above her shoulder to get in the frame, repeating, “Cheese!”

Even her niece seemed to be enjoying the attention as she smiled brightly and toothless while standing on your lap with her chubby legs. Jenna snapped a couple for good measure, checking over the pictures. The three of you are squished together as she held it in portrait; you all looked cute Jenna can admit.

Like a little family.

What?

“Oh Jenna, send me that, please. I want to post it on my Instagram.” Her mom spoke up already reaching for her phone.

“Okay, okay.” Jenna rolled her eyes but sent herself the pictures first before airdropping them to – everyone – who begged for it.

“This is adorable, I think I’m gonna make this my lock screen.” You grinned, staring at the photo. She sees you typing a message, indeed sending it to the actress like you said you would. “Just for your niece.”

Jenna felt her heart skip a beat. “Are you saying you’re gonna crop me out the photo?”

“No… but now that’s a good idea, thanks.” You mocked with a smile.

“Mom, how did you already post that picture so fast?” Mia asked.

–

“Don’t be mad.” Jenna begged.

“Mad? Jenna. This isn’t what I signed up for.” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

The two of you were standing in her driveway, in a discord of course. Jenna just forced you into another situation that you wanted no part of.

“You just told Link to call off my driver and now you’re saying don’t be mad. Of course, I’m mad! Why did you say yes to your Mom, Jenna.” You sighed, dropping your hand limply.

“I didn’t know she’d insist.” She groaned walking closer, “She said that you shouldn’t stay in that big house by yourself for the weekend when there is room here, next thing I know she’s forcing me to ask you in front of everybody.”

"I'm sorry." She grabs your arm. “Link said you might be mad.”

You stare at her for a couple of moments. Their hearts are in the right place, you guessed. Eventually, you rolled your eyes and sighed. “Thank you I guess… I appreciate that the sentiment.”

Jenna smiled in relief, “Yeah, of course.” Then scrunched her nose in thought. “We actually really don’t have the room so I don’t know where she’ll put you.”

She should have known. This is so typical and cliche; sharing a bed trope? Please, can the universe be any more unoriginal?

“Mom, are you sure?” Jenna whispered as she peaked her head out the small awning of the door – making sure you can’t hear.

“Jen, go to sleep. We have a packed day tomorrow. Everyone’s coming over for the game.”

Tomorrow is sports night and her uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents are set to come over. It was a weekly tradition for the extended family to host a gathering to watch the game every Friday; with Jenna’s busy schedule, she hasn’t been to one in months. She’s grateful this one is hosted at her house but then inwardly sighed because she should probably warn you about that too.

“Mom…” She pleaded in a whisper.

“Goodnight and be responsible. I trust you two.”

“Mom!”

Jenna dropped her head in defeat as she listened to her Mom’s footsteps dwindle further away.

“Hey, you should probably get in there before all the hot water runs out..”

She turns, seeing your freshly showered figure. For a moment, Jenna finds herself stuck. You’re rubbing a towel on your wet hair as grey sweats hung lowly on your hips and she was desperately trying to avert her eyes from the small patch of you skin exposed.

“I already showered.”

“Oh okay.” You shrugged walking over to grab your phone.

“Which side do you prefer?” You asked absentmindedly,

“What?” Jenna blinks away.

“Of the bed. Which side do you prefer?”

“Oh. The left.”

“Thank god. Every bed I’ve had to share I’ve had to fight for the right side. You’re perfect.”

Jenna watched as you jump into your preferred side, getting comfortable under her covers.

She doesn’t know why she feels a mismatched thump fall out of rhythm with her heartbeat at seeing you in her bed.

“Alright, are you gonna be weird about sharing a bed? ‘Cause I can just take the couch or call my driver to pick me up. I can get a hotel room or something.” You sighed sitting up.

Jenna furrowed her brows, “What no. Can you please stop jumping to conclusions?”

“I’m not.” You mumbled but don’t argue further. Jenna gets in beside you.

“You satisfied now?” She throws out but it sounds just shy of playful and maybe even flirtatious – definitely not how she meant for it to sound.

“Uh– sure.” You replied sliding the blanket up to your chin as you tried to get comfortable again.

There’s that weird tension again, Jenna thinks and she thinks it’s starting to annoy her.

“Okay, what’s your deal?” Jenna crossed her arms, turning to you.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Why are you being so weird?”

“I’m not.” You sat up to face the other actress.

Jenna frowned, “Yes you are. You have been since New York. Did I do something? Because you still haven’t told me why you just left town like that.”

“I told you. Jake wanted me back for Coachella. Why else would I have just left all of a sudden?” You explained.

“I just– I just feel like you’re not telling me something.” She admits, a bit insecure. “I, at least, thought we’re friends now and when I didn’t see you in the crowd or the dressing room after SNL I was a bit… disappointed? I don't know if it’s dumb but you really did calm me down before my monologue and I wanted to thank you over dinner. But, yeah–”

Jenna looks away, missing your guilty frown. “Jenna… it’s not dumb. God, I feel like an asshole.”

“Well, sometimes you can be.”

You laugh but it’s dry. “I’m so sorry. I–I should have been there.”

You grab her hands. “Look at me, please.” It gets her to look up, the light from the lamp is bouncing off your eyes making them look softer in the dim light. “I promise, I’ll always be there for the important moments from now on. Before, during and after – we are stuck together until the foreseeable future, so.”

Jenna snorts, looking down at your hands. You begin to rub lines with your fingers on her open palm making her shiver. “Yeah, I guess we are.” She whispers.

She doesn’t know when she makes the bold move to intertwine your fingers. But for the first time since SNL, you two hold hands and this time you don’t pull away. But she doesn’t miss the questioning glint in your eyes as you look down. Jenna ignores the attention and squeezes your hand to make you look at her again.

“You mean it though?”

Your eyes soften. “I mean it.”

–

“Where’s Y/N?” Mia asked over the breakfast table.

“Rehearsals,” Jenna mumbled sleepily shoving spoonfuls of food in her dry mouth – still trying to wake up.

When the actress had awakened, the sun was high above the horizon and the desert heat was already inching inside her cracked window. But she woke up, alone.

Differing from how she went to sleep the previous night with you barely pressed up beside her as you laid with your backs to each other. Jenna only found herself un-tensing after hearing your breathing fall into short even exhales.

When she turned over to grab her phone this morning, you had sent a text:

Sorry for not waking you up. You sleep like a rock but I had to go to rehearsals. I’ll be back by 3 :)

She couldn’t be too annoyed at the smiley face you leave with your occasional messages.

“She’s performing?” Mia asks shocked.

Jenna nods, too tired for words.

“The crowd is gonna lose their minds.” Aliyah laughs. “With who?”

“Won’t say.” Jenna muttered bitterly, thinking back to her incessant begging; you never caved.

“Okay… can we talk about it, now then?”

“Talk about what Mia,” Jenna sighs dropping her fork on her plate.

“You and Y/N.” She says like it’s obvious.

“There is no me and Y/N, it’s all for the cameras. Remember the NDA I had to beg you guys to sign?” The actress rolls her eyes.

“Then why were you so upset after New York?” She challenges; tired of her sister’s silence over this whole situation. There’s no way she’s just unaffected by this.

“Mia drop it.” Her mom says.

“No. I’m serious, she’s literally staying under our roof, sharing a room with Jenna. And no one is still saying anything? Am I the only one who thinks there’s something going on?”

“Yes.” Jenna says quickly.

Mia rolls her eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question, Jen.”

Jenna crosses her arms, sitting up. “Of course I was upset. She just left town without a warning, if we didn’t catch her in the lobby she was just gonna a send a text. A text! Anyone would be upset at that — but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

But her sister doesn’t buy it. She opens her mouth to refute but their Dad swoops in saving the day. “Leave your sister alone, Mia. I’m sure whatever is going on with Y/N and Jenna – they can figure it out themselves.”

Jenna groans, “Dad, not helping.”

He shrugs, sitting at the head of the table with his own plate of breakfast.

Eventually, her family scatters to their own corners of the house to get ready for the day. Her other family members would be arriving soon and the actress had to start getting ready. Crap, she forgot to warn you about game night because you left so early. Jenna decides she’ll send you a text after she gets out of the shower.

With the raucous of the day, Jenna forgets to send the text. Her cousins arrived much earlier than anticipated and she was already getting pulled out to living room to talk about her upcoming projects. She gets so lost catching up with her cousins that she doesn’t realize when you arrive.

"Jenna, your novia is here." One of her aunts shouts making her head snap up to you as the front door opens. "Oh wow, and she's brought the whole store!"

Jenna's jaw drops as you walk in, holding multiple large bouquets of different arrangements of flowers. "Y/N?"

"Hey!" You peek your head out from the large flowers. "These are for your family... but I may have overestimated how big these were and Link refused to help me."

"Oh god, these are beautiful Y/N." Jenna's mom gets up from her seat, grabbing as many flowers as she can. "You didn't have to..."

"Oh, it's nothing, really. You guys are letting me stay here, I just wanted to express a little gratitude." You duck your head, all timid now.

Jenna knows it's not nothing. Those flowers cost a fuck ton, she would know she gets gifted those whenever she has an event.

"Well, gratitude expressed. I don't even know where to put these. Mia, Aliyah help the girl, please!"

The two sisters grab all but one smaller bouquet from your hands, walking away with smug smiles.

"Jen, get up," Aliyah whispers in passing as all the women and Jenna's dad filter over to the kitchen to view the gorgeous flowers.

She still hasn't moved from the couch and briefly, she thinks she can feel her cousin's smirking at her reaction.

"You got my family flowers?" Jenna asks dumbly, walking over slowly; ignoring everyone's eyes on them.

"Uh—yeah. Sorry if it's a bit much. I wasn't sure what everyone liked so... I got them all." You scratch your head with a bouquet in hand, catching Jenna's eye.

"These are for you..." You smile, holding out a smaller albeit more personal? flower arrangement. It felt like Jenna, somehow.

“I picked it out myself.” Your smile turns shy.

Like, if she were to walk into a flower shop and see this bouquet, she would instantly grasp it and never let go.

We still talking flowers?

"Thanks..." Jenna mumbles, grabbing the flowers; your fingertips touching sends sparks down her arm.

"Um—you're back early..." Is all she manages to say.

“Yeah… they didn’t need me for a long time so I decided to come back.” You explained, glancing at the new faces in the room. “Uh– what’s all this?”

The actress sends you a sheepish smile, “Family game night, we watch the game every Friday and cook some barbeque, it’s a whole thing. I forgot to text you, I’m sorry. You can call your driver back if this is too much.”

You laugh, squeezing her shoulder. “And miss out on great food? No, thank you.”

Jenna scans your eyes for the truth, “Are you sure? I know this isn’t exactly your scene so I understand.”

“Jen.” Your hand slides down, softly grabbing her hand. “I can’t even remember how long it’s been since the last time I had a home-cooked meal. I’m so in.”

You squeeze her hand for good measure. “Guys close the door.” Someone shouts.

Jenna doesn’t let you drop your hands this time because she’s already gripping them, pulling you to sit with her cousins – introducing you.

She ignores the giddy feeling in her chest that you want to stay.

You don’t say anything even when you’re both sitting and she’s still holding your hand.

–

“Who are you performing with?” Jenna tugs on your arm.

You squint to see her through your sunglasses. The Californian sun was making its presence known today and there are crowds of people everywhere as you tried to find some shade. It’s just past 6 PM and people are already starting to get rowdy – before all the good sets are even on.

Fish nets, sparkles and bedazzles are all you see in the sea of people and you just know you’re at Coachella.

“I can’t say…” You fight the smile on your face, finding her begging adorable. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“But Aliyah knows! I heard you whisper it to her.” She glares back at her sister standing a fair distance away from you two – who was talking to Mia and her boyfriend.

“I didn’t tell her anything, Jen. We were just fucking with you.” You laugh, sliding your hand in hers.

An unspoken comfortableness has formed between you two. Light touches are a new development in this… situation Jenna had with you.

Whether it was knees touching under the dinner table, walking shoulder to shoulder on your daily walks around the neighbourhood (there wasn’t much to do as Coachella weekend approached) or leaning her head on your shoulder as she slept when you two watched TV before bed.

And now, it seems like things have escalated to a new level of comfort where you two willingly linked fingers whenever you walked anywhere. Neither of you make a peep when someone eventually reaches for the other’s hand.

“Rude…” She pinches your side making you flinch away from her.

Jenna’s immediately tugging you back closer.

“Hey… I can’t get an injury before my performance. I’m legally binded to a contract.” You state.

Jenna snorts, “I thought you were friends with the performer? Are you really not gonna tell me who it is?”

“Nope and sure we’re friends but, I’m still contractually obligated to the festival and all that.”

“Come on Y/N!” She groaned unconsciously stepping closer to you. “I’ve been so nice to you, I haven’t called you an idiot all day!”

You laugh, “Is that supposed to win me over?”

“You tell me? Is it working?” The laugh dies in your lips when she tits her head in question.

Jenna misses the gulp you take because she was leaning closer, trying to find your eyes behind the dark-tinted glasses you had on.

“No…” You replied with a vacant tone.

Jenna steps back when the sun blinds her eye. “You’re no fun.”

“I don’t know what to tell you… you’re gonna have to wait like everyone else.”

“Speaking of everyone else, I’m surprised we’re not surrounded by your groupies.” Jenna eyes the group of people hovering not too far away.

You snicker, “They are not my groupies. I barely know those people but it happens at every music event. They flock over like geese. I let Link handle them.”

Jenna frowns, “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?” You look down.

“That you can’t even enjoy yourself at a festival without someone hovering over your shoulder.”

Since Jenna’s started this PR relationship with you her fame’s only increased overnight. She hates to say it but Sarah was right, being associated with you has only made her more famous and well-known. She felt like a Kardashian or Tom Holland who couldn’t even step out of their own homes without a camera being shoved in their faces.

It’s getting so bad that Jenna has security with her everywhere she goes. She stopped driving herself to places. A headline even dropped that you two are official and serious now and that you have met her family; paparazzi tried to camp at her parent’s house until they called the police.

“Sometimes.” You answer honestly, shrugging. “But it’s part of the job.”

Jenna’s frown deepens, looking around. “This is not part of the job. At least not what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, but we learn to deal with it, right?” You nudge her shoulder. Seemingly unbothered that made Jenna bothered for you.

“How?” Jenna couldn’t help her curiosity.

“Surround yourself with people that genuinely care about you. That still picks you even after all your fuck ups. Only got me about three of those, so I try to keep them close.” Then you let out a sad laugh, “I make it very hard for them sometimes, though.”

Jenna looks at Link as he holds a bored hand up when a girl tries to walk up to you. Then he’s shooing her away and whispering to both of your security guards.

She wants to fight the urge to say that you have a fourth person in your corner with her.

Instead, she says:

“I think you got a good one with him.” She nods to Link.

You follow her sight, “Yeah, I do... He’s usually right about most things too.”

“What do you mean?” She looks up in questioning.

Maybe Jenna’s not so bad? Flashes in your memory but you don’t tell Jenna. “Nothing.”

Jenna squints her eyes. “Fine… keep your secrets.” Tone a playfully bitter.

Eventually, you, Jenna and her sisters walk around aimlessly from set to set, taking pictures and enjoying the atmosphere. Jenna would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying herself right now. Somehow you all managed to find an empty corner by the Artist section of the performances which meant you had loosened up a bit.

Jenna decided she liked it when you’re smiling, carefree and happy.

It suits you better than your permanent scowl.

You’ve been so stressed this last week, taking phone calls and Zoom meetings. She tried not to express her concern at seeing how you obsessively fretted over some project, consuming you some nights.

Jenna knows obsessive. She knows anxiety. This was different.

She finds herself with more questions than answers when it comes to you.

Why are you so closed off all the time? Is this how you work all the time? Where did this recent streak of bad behaviour start? Is there more to it than what you’re saying?

Are you okay?

But Jenna can’t find the right words to ask, so she doesn’t.

Only offering her warm pressure on top of you to hopefully lull you to sleep when you both drift off in her childhood bed.

Somewhere along the evening, she finds herself close to you.

You've loosened up as the days progressed and somehow, you and Jenna have found yourselves wrapped up in each other's arms as you danced.

Jenna had her back pressed firmly against your chest; her head tucked under your chin as your arms wrap around her waist from behind; hands linked as you jammed along to the music.

“The Met Gala’s coming up.” Jenna speaks up after a few moments of silence. “I’m invited.”

“Me too.” You reveal. She perks up, looking back at you.

“Yeah?” She smiles, pleased with your answer.

“Mhmm. I’m actually a co-chair this year.” You send an embarrassed smile.

She turns in your hold, jaw-dropping. “You are?”

“Yeah… why do you think I’ve been taking those calls all week? I was getting ready for the Met.”

“I thought that was for Coachella?” She snorts but can't help but ask, "Do you ever stop working?"

“Says you. Miss Scream Queen.” You tease making her roll her eyes.

“Be my date.” She says all of a sudden. “and walk the carpet with me this time.”

You raise your brows at her bluntness. This time?

You remember the last time she said those words and a tiny part of you prayed she meant it differently this time. But you can't fight your smile because you couldn't even say no if you wanted to — overwhelmed with the sudden want, to show off the girl in your arms. “I would love to be your date.”

Jenna's eyes sparkled with delight, beaming at you widely.

"Great! I'll talk to Enrique and Thom Browne about it."

"But I'm a Prada Ambassador?"

"I'll handle it." She nods with finality.

But before you can say anything, Link slides in with a whisper in your ear and a knowing smirk in Jenna’s direction.

“Hey, I have to go.” You whisper into her ear, pulling away but Jenna tightens her grip.

“Wait.” She steps forward – much closer than she means to.

“Yeah?” You asked softly and suddenly Jenna can’t hear the loud thumping of the bass anymore.

“Good luck and break a leg.” She says in a whisper.

Her hand reaches up to brush your neck still looking into your eyes. Jenna feels the same overwhelming pressure in her chest that she’s recently felt around you and gives into her sudden impulse; leaning in, parting her lips; meaning for them to connect to your cheek but instead swerve and slot in between your lips instead, in a moment’s haste.

She feels you tense for a moment before giving in, cupping her cheeks too. Kissing her back. Jenna loses it a bit, not expecting your lips to feel so soft and smooth and perfect against hers. Jenna can't help but tilt her head to the side, allowing your lips to press harder.

She feels the same electricity from your first meeting – when you shook her hand. The same electricity she tries to fight off every time she's near you. Except this time, it's by tenfold.

Jenna is so lost in you that she can’t even hear her heart beating loudly in her ears anymore — only feeling your thumb softly stroking her jaw.

The sound of coughing breaks you two apart.

“Sorry but Y/N we need to go.” Link sends a sheepish smile but he's trying to fight his grin at having a front-row seat to the show.

When Jenna pulls away she looks deeply into your eyes searching for some kind of indication of your feelings.

You smile shyly, squeezing her waist and rubbing her back. “I’ll find you after the show?”

“Yeah…” Jenna whispers, still staring into your eyes.

“I’ll find you!” You yell over her shoulder as Link drags you away.

“Holy shit, finally!” Mia slides in beside her.

Jenna doesn’t have the energy to shrug off the arm Aliyah throws over her shoulder as she brings her fingers up to her burning lips. “I don't know why I did that...”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot. The both of you.” Mia rolls her eyes walking back to her boyfriend.

Jenna looks around, blinking, immediately catching the phones held in the air capturing her moment with you.

She walks off, following her sisters.

Unbeknownst to you and Jenna, a headline is about to drop:

New developments in Y/N L/N's Vegas case. Caught with cocaine! Las Vegas PD makes no official comments on possible charges or arrests. But is this the end for the bright star?

The strip club and vaccine bit with Colin and Che is from a real line in one of their segments LOL.

yall happy now?

@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley @chealsib @fanboy7794 @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @zelload @natashadeservedmoree @orang3-ish @friedryes @canyonyodeler @nahnahnahwhatt @be-missed @jjuncidio @fearstreetsoloyouandurmom @oksana-moods @theirishmanronan @r-ude @wokethefuxkup @bandaidss @skate-to-breathee @user173781 @frasersgf @natblidaclexa @justafoolinlove @bring-mecoffee @slu7her @haughtsauce21 @wheesunsangel @cyberexpertalienspy-blog @jennaortegasfootrest @zaza11sblog @omega-horus @heroofdeath11 @selluequestrian @justalittledissociation @imaloserbby @catswag22 @sorexhera @smjmgko @acutenobody @raven-ss @canceldevvi @sweetaimu @rockwyn @rwndsana @cheesybacon1 @cvluswnt @secretbackrooms @vixen1006 @zhasmindoesntknow @namesduntmatter @ulicebld @rozmrazaradelfinow @icarly23 @cartierdreamx @thenextdawn @annalestern

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday netflix

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wolfjackle-creates · 10 months

Text

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 5

It's Wednesday again, you know what that means! I'm going to officially start calling this Arc 2 instead of Chapter 2 because it's too long already and I only *just* get to the plot with the end of this segment.

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count 1.3k words

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Tim clenched his teeth, but allowed himself to be pulled to the counter where they ordered an obscene amount of food thanks to the appetite of four metas. He insisted on using B’s card to pay for everyone.

Sam didn’t even wait for their food to be ready before she started questioning Conner.

“What do you think of rich people?” she demanded.

“Um… What?” Conner looked to Tim, eyes wide, clearly lost as to what he should answer.

Tim just shrugged.

“What. Do. You. Think of rich people? It’s not a hard question. I’m just trying to gage your actual punkness.”

“I don’t… I mean, Mr. Wayne is cool. I’ve met him a few times and he’s always been nice to me. But Lex Luthor… He’s the worst.” Even now, Conner couldn’t help but shudder when he thought of his creator and Tim scowled into his soda.

“Don’t mince words, Kon,” Tim said. “Luthor should be shot and dropped in the deepest part of the ocean.”

Conner laughed and pointed to Tim. “Yeah, that.”

“Hmmm… It’s a start.” Sam nodded. “Really, there’s only one rule to being punk and everything else derives from that: the man sucks.”

“The man?”

And there it was. Conner was still learning a lot of slang. “She means the people in charge. That you can’t trust the government or people in authority to actually have your best interests at heart or to do the right thing.”

“Oh!” Conner’s eyes lit up in understanding. “Well, obviously! I’ve always had to look after myself. At least until I met you guys.”

Cassie elbowed him. “And now you’re stuck with us for life. You’re ours.”

“Damn right!” Bart held out a fist to Conner who bumped it with his own.

Danny laughed. “You weren’t exaggerating, Secrets. You guys really are ride-or-die.”

Tim looked over his friends and couldn’t hold back a soft smile. “Damn right we are. Just like you three.”

“Well, we know something about the ‘or die,’” said Danny.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You’re worse than Dick.”

Tucker’s mouth was open as he looked between them. “They know?”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “Tim’s known since, like, a week after the accident. And when they came by my house, my parents decided to show off the home defense system. Couldn’t keep it a secret after that.”

Based on Sam’s wince, she knew exactly what the home defense system could do to Danny. Tucker pulled out one of his devices and started typing on it. “Will you finally let me do something about that?”

Danny just rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Tucker. Sam. Tim. All of you. My parent’s inventions never work right. Or they don’t know how to actually use them. They didn’t think the thermoses worked at first, for God’s sake!”

“Right.” Tucker rolled his eyes. “Because their guns have never worked. Tim, can I have your number and email? Maybe if we all get on him he’ll listen to sense one of these days.”

“Oooh!” Cassie bounced in her seat. “I’ll help! We’ve lots of experience in that with Tim. He’s also the worst at calculating reasonable risks.”

“Great!” Tucker typed her number and email into his PDA and they started setting up group chats. Bart joined in by discussing some of Tim’s more ridiculous civilian escapades.

Tim exchanged a look with Danny. This was so not going to end well.

“Well, while they’re sorting that out, more about punk!” Sam pulled Conner deeper into a conversation about fighting for freedom and liberty and how her ultra recyclo-vegetarianism fit into her beliefs.

Tim sighed and said, “Well, at least they’re getting along?”

Danny groaned and held his head in his hands. “We’re so going to regret introducing them, aren’t we?”

“I already do.”

And then their order was called. Of course Bart was at the counter before any of the rest had even registered it was their order, but Conner and Cassie jumped up to follow and help him carry it.

Sam tried to go help but Tim held out a hand. “They’ve got it, trust me. Having more people will just make it harder for them.”

She still stood, but by the time she turned to help, the others were already returning with hands full of loaded trays. She scowled as she settled back down.

“We would’ve helped,” she said as the others set the food down.

Bart waved her off. “We got it! Sides, most of this is for me, Conner, and Cassie.”

Danny shook his head. “I ordered just as much as you!”

Tucker agreed, “And I ordered almost as much.”

Cassie shrugged as she rooted through bags and grabbed her orders. “Well we got there first. Come on, I’m hungry. Quit arguing and grab your food!”

Danny passed one bag to Sam, “One salad for you.” And a second bag found it’s way in front of Tim. “And a nasty burger for you. You’ll never want to eat a batburger again after this!”

Tim rolled his eyes, but obligingly unwrapped the burger and took a bite. He hummed in appreciation. It really was a solid burger and the sauce was quite good. “I do like it, I’ll give you that. But I still prefer Batburger.”

“Ugh, you’re hopeless!” Turning his back to Tim, Danny addressed the others. “What about you three? Batburger or Nasty Burger?”

Conner shrugged, “This is great, but it’ll always be Batburger for me, too.”

Cassie elbowed him as she finished her bite. “That’s only because you and Tim get midnight burgers there too often and you are mixing up the taste with the memories. These are clearly better.”

Bart had already finished his first burger and was licking his fingers clean. “Yep. These are absolutely better.”

Tim threw an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “Fifty-fifty split! Means we can’t make a decision until you come to Gotham and try one yourself.”

“Oh, that’s what it means, does it? And when do you think I’ll make it to Gotham?”

“Any time you want! You can stay with me. Hell, I’ll even pick you up and bring you there.”

Danny grinned. “If I ever can guarantee a break from ghost attacks, I might take you up on that.”

“Right,” said Sam to Conner. “While they’re flirting”—she expertly ignored Tim and Danny’s spluttered protests—“have you ever tried wearing makeup? I think you’d look killer in eyeliner.”

Meanwhile, Tucker pulled out his PDA and some headphones and started showing a video to Cassie and Bart who shifted to better see the screen.

Tim took a large bite of his burger, unsure what to say to Danny after Sam’s comment.

Danny didn’t seem to have the same reservations and shifted so he could press his shoulder against Tim’s. “Sorry. She and Tuck like to tease me. They’ve been calling you my internet boyfriend for ages.”

That admission made his face heat even more, but Tim tried to shrug it off. “It’s fine.” He knew from Dick that if he continued to protest, everyone would just take it as further confirmation they were right.

Danny shrugged and grabbed another container. Tucker tried to protest, but Danny ignored him. “Here, try a chili cheese fry; they’re great.”

Tim let out a breath and grabbed a fry, getting chili and cheese all over his hands as he did. “Thanks.”

Somehow, the group managed to not get yelled at for an hour as they laughed and joked in the corner booth, but eventually an employee came over to ask if they needed anything else. Danny ordered a milkshake for Jazz, and the group filed out. Night had set in fully while they’d been eating and Tim looked up at the sky. The stars really were much more visible here than in Gotham.

And that was when a large, swirling-green gash opened up in the night sky and dozens of ghosts started pouring through.

-----

Sam is so going to try and radicalize Conner. Tim is just gonna let it happen. At least this radicalization is better than what he'd been exposed to previously.

Tag List Part 1

@gremlin-bot, @bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @we-ezer, @markus209, @sjrose1216, @onyxlightdragon, @dragonsrequiem, @jesus-camp-the-sequel, @spidey29phangirl, @kyrianclawraith, @evilminji, @introvert-even-on-the-internet, @emergentpanda-blog, @lexdamo, @v-inari, @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit, @longlivethefallen, @undead-essence, @xye-chan, @liandrin, @seraphinedemort, @kisatamao, @schalensitzbucket, @caelestisdreamer, @runfromthemedic, @nutcase8691, @channajen, @tonicmii, @ambiguouslyominous, @vythika96, @addie-lover-of-stories, @ironicvixen, @violetfox2, @pickleking8, @mysticalcomputerdetective, @ark12, @mygood-bitch99, @squirrel-wolf, @satisfactionbroughtmeback, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @automaticsoulharmony, @d4ydr34min9, @revnantdpxdclover, @midigeria, @raginblastocyst, @feral-bunny31, @lunaria618, @ghostreblogging, @ace-aro-as-shit

#dpxdc #dead tired #is that a plot you spy?#why yes it is!#the rest of this will be written as I rewatch the singular episode over and over and over again #i hope itll go quickly

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writeforfandoms · 26 days

Text

Shadows 2

Find the John Price masterlist

For @glitterypirateduck O, Captain! Challenge. I used #18 for this chapter.

Trying to find a new normal after everything is hard, but Price makes things a little easier. A late-night conversation helps you both.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of past events, scars, past injuries, nightmares, unsettled emotions.

Word count: 1k

The town was amazing. You hadn't seen anything like it in a year, at least.

Probably, anyway. Time had been a little hard to track while you'd been with the men.

But the world had ended almost a year and a half ago, you were assured.

The four who'd rescued you, albeit unknowingly, seemed to be the center of the town. The protectors. Everyone knew Gaz and Soap, the two most friendly of the four. (And also both taken, as you discovered on your first night there, a boisterous kind of family dinner with both of their significant others. That inspired a kind of ache that you pushed down out of long habit.)

Ghost was quiet and watchful, probably the least trusting of the group. But in those first days, you saw how gently he treated the two women, voice gruff but sincere in his thanks. The single wandering sheep that meandered up to the house got gently but firmly redirected back to where it belonged. You'd known men like him before. Gruff, grumpy, soft as a marshmallow deep down.

But Price… Price was something else. He made you feel safe. Probably just because he'd been the one to find you and cut you free, but still. He never raised his voice to you, never minded when you settled near him to read.

That wasn't a feeling you were so willing to give up.

Price had told you that you'd stay with them for a few days at most, until they found a better spot for you. You understood why - the house was a little crowded, with Gaz and his significant other, Ghost, and Price there full time. Soap seemed to bounce between the house and his parents’.

But you didn't want to go.

Oh, everyone in town was nice. Welcoming. Word got around that you were a nurse, and it didn't take long for people to start showing up asking your opinion, or asking you to look at something.

Price just huffed and dragged the furniture around in the main room, giving you a corner with some privacy.

A few days turned into a week, turned into two. Price didn't push about finding you another place to stay, and you never asked.

You thought maybe he understood. Maybe he was being kind, giving you time to settle in, before bringing it up again.

Three weeks into your stay, you woke from a nightmare, the lingering cruel laughter and screams still echoing in your ears. You sat up, hands shaking as you pushed the blanket off yourself, hunching over to try to breathe more normally.

You hadn't had a nightmare in… a long time. You'd have been happy not to have another. Ever.

Well. Might as well put the kettle on.

You shuffled into the kitchen, simultaneously tired and vigilant, moving as quietly as you could. Tea was a calming ritual you'd gone without for a long time, but the muscle memory and timing hadn't left you. (And if you were oddly proud of the fact that you made the only cuppa the American would drink, well, nobody else had to know.)

You'd just sat with your tea when you heard a stair creak. You tensed automatically, shifting your weight, fingers clenched around your mug.

Price stepped into the kitchen, nodding to you. You returned the nod, shoulders uncoiling.

“Still hot water left?” He asked, voice hushed.

“Plenty,” you agreed, waving a hand for him to help himself. “Shouldn't need to be reheated yet.”

He got down his own mug, the soft sounds of him making tea helping soothe you fully back into the present. The warmth of your tea seeped into your hands, just on the verge between comforting and too hot.

Somehow, you were still surprised when he sat across from you, gaze far too alert for the middle of the night.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Mm.” You dropped your gaze to your mug, fingers tracing the handle. “You?”

He just shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. In the low light, a flash of color on his wrist caught your attention. You moved without conscious thought, one hand gently catching his.

Both of you froze.

“Sorry.” You started to pull your hand back.

Price just switched his mug to his other hand and placed his hand back in yours. “Nothing to apologize for.”

You blew out a slow breath, looking into his eyes briefly before lifting your linked hands, just enough to get a better look at the scar near the heel of his hand. “What happened there?”

He tipped your linked hands to look and then chuckled. “Burned myself on accident as a kid,” he said, shooting you an amused little smile. “Surprised you saw it.”

You shrugged. “Must have been the lighting,” You dismissed, giving his hand one gentle squeeze before you released him.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence together, drinking your tea. It was odd, how comfortable it was. You hadn't felt so at ease with anyone else since… before. Not all the way before, before the world ended, but before the men. Before the fire and the screaming.

He was just… easy to be with. For you.

“Alright there?” He kept his voice low, hand touching yours again briefly. “Look like you're about to nod off into your tea.”

“Hm?” You blinked rapidly and looked at him. “Oh, I'm okay. Just thinking.”

“Anything you want to share?” He kept the question mild, gentle. A clear invitation.

You bit your lip, gaze refocusing on him. He held up steadily, unmoving, at ease. “Just… thinking that this is… comfortable.” Face burning, you dropped your gaze again, chewing lightly on your lip.

You startled, just a little, when he took your hand again, warm fingers curling around yours. You looked back at him to find him smiling, just a little.

“I'm glad,” he murmured, low and rougher than usual. “You deserve a safe place, and I'm happy to provide that for you. Here, or anywhere in town.”

Your lips parted, eyes going wide, fingers clamping around his.

He just smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and let you keep hold of his hand as he finished his tea.

#ocaptainchallenge #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader #zombie au

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biwitchenergyz · 20 days

Text

When Dragon's Dance

Content Warning: Adult Language, Mentions of Drug Use, and hints towards grooming. I do not own any of the characters or songs used in this story, but I hope you enjoy and if you do, please let me know!

Songs used: I Was Made for Lovin’ You by KISS

Chapter 1: Hypnotized by the Lights

If this car ride lasts any longer you might reach over and strangle Cregan bloody Stark. It wasn’t completely his fault, but you can name a million reasons why he is to blame for this very moment. Cregan is unaware of the threat on his life, instead, he sits happily humming along to a song that plays through the limo speakers. You watch him with disgruntled fascination. Every tap of his thick fingers on the door handle, every swing of his dark curls as they bounce against his shoulder. “Cregan, the next time you want to go out. Make sure it’s not after I've been filming for 10 hours!” You scold him but he doesn't mind. If anything, he has grown to love your attitude, especially when it amuses him. He stops the music with a tap of his phone and smiles at you with all of his pearly teeth on display. “I already said I was sorry, babes! I didn’t know the label was gonna force you to come with me.” In his defense, he did seem guilty about the whole thing. It wasn’t his fault, you remind yourself again, he just wanted to see that stupid band of his and your manager had insisted you come along for publicity.

Being in a publicity stunt relationship wasn’t hard, per se. It was mainly awkward and worst-case scenario, tiring. You have been with Cregan for about three years now and to be honest, he is your best friend. It isn't hard to pretend to love him because you certainly do. It's just the in-love with him part that you can't quite get. “Well let's at least make this worth it. You stay by me at all times and try not to brush me off. If we want this to look like another happy date, I need you to try.” Cregan can be a good actor when he needs to but when he gets caught up in something he starts treating you like an old friend, not a passionate romantic partner. It has been noted by one or two gossip sites, but he has done his best to put those rumors to rest. “Got it. Ok. I’m in love with you and we are here to see my favorite band. No problem.” Cregan waves a hand like he’s a professional but as soon as the driver opens his door he practically flies from his seat, stopping on a second thought, to help you out the car.

It is no red carpet walk but there are a bunch of paparazzi lining the side of the building, snapping photos and shouting questions as you walk hand in hand. “Cregan! Are the Stark Dire Wolves ready to beat the Baratheon Stags at the game this Sunday?” “Over here, Ma’am! When will we be expecting a new season of Maegor’s six wives?” They all fall over each other, fighting like animals for the chance to talk with either of you. From across the street, some people have stopped to record you and to those cameras, you smile and wave. Cregan makes sure you get in the building first before he sighs. “I will never get used to that shit.” He groans, releasing your hand in favor of placing his hand on the small of your back. You laugh a little at his clear frustration. “Come on, Super Bowl champion! You can’t handle a little paparazzi?” He smiles at your teasing, he always does. “Ok, Miss Lights, Camera, Action! Not all of us are used to photoshoots and red carpets.” You could argue that he has done all of those things as well, but you let it drop as he leads you both to the suite he has booked.

It isn’t small by any means, with a whole front row of cushioned seats and a table for catering in the back. There is a sink with about six cabinets above the faucet and it even comes with its own bathroom. The red carpeting looks freshly cleaned and the whole room smells of citrus. “You bought a suite? For one concert?” You ask him as you place your purse on the marble tabletop. Cregan shrugs, seemingly uninterested in discussing it but one raised eyebrow from you and he spills. “My manager booked the suite. He didn’t want us in the actual stands.” That explains it. Cregan's manager, Edward Bolton, is unbelievably strict. Frankly, you think the man is a total ass, but he has control of the Stark Dire wolves' team and with Cregan being their star player, he has full control of him. “This isn't the biggest venue they have played at, right?” You don't know much about the Dancing Dragons all you know is that they mainly play rock music and get into a shit ton of scandals. All the songs you have heard have been great though. “Nah this is just a private show for the Fanclub and anyone who could buy tickets. I saw them play at the Riverland Arena a year or two ago. I swear I thought all of Westeros was there!” He smiles fondly before playfully nudging you to the side so he can get the best seat, right in the center. You sit close to him with his arm around your shoulder, just a little taste for the cameras that may turn to snap photos of you.

While you wait for the concert to begin you scroll through the band’s Wikipedia page. Jacaerys Targaryen, the leader of the group and the bass player, is Cregan’s favorite, and every time he talks about the guy, he gets flushed. Then there’s Lucereys, Jacaerys’s brother who can make the keyboard sound like the coolest instrument known to man. Both of them are Rhaenyra’s sons, you never got the chance to meet them when you and Rhaenyra both worked on the set of Conqueror, but she talked about them often. Then there’s the fan favorite, Daeron, on the drums. He’s the same age as Luke and they both have an adorable charm that makes them the band's most adored members. Daeron is not alone, there are his brothers Aegon and Aemond. They bring a “sex appeal”, as Cregan put it, to the band. They also bring scandals. Aegon is the lead singer with a well-known drug addiction and the electric guitar player, Aemond, just ended things with his questionably older girlfriend, Alys Rivers. “Wait, are they all cousins?” You ask Cregan who frowns at your question. “No, Babes. Jace and Luke are their nephews. They are a family band though. There is lots of lore on that, but we can talk about it later. Here they come!” He squeals the last sentence as he rises in his seat and watches the smoke form on stage with fascinated eyes. Similarly, your eyes find the stage and watch as the smoke rises. With the red lights pointed down, the smoke appears like fire in the foggy red glow. The crowds of people, anonymous in the pitch-black stadium, rise, yelling and chanting the band's name as the curtains part. “King’s Landing! I wanna hear you scream!”

#aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #aegon targaryen x reader #alicent hightower #aemond x you #aegon x reader #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #rhaneyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #helaena targaryen #viserys targaryen

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

Text

Watcher’s Nest Café

Chapter 1

summary:

“I want you to know that I hate everything about this.”

Scott hums into his drink, sipping at it before throwing the whole thing back like it��s a shot. The bitter taste is enough to wake him up at least a little more. “You're here on time, at least.”

Jimmy’s staring at him when he looks up, apron held in his hands as he squints. Scott stares back at him. “How much espresso was in that?” He asks. Scott doesn't actually know, he measured it more with his heart than his eyes.

Or: I’ve finally cracked and written a coffee shop au.

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(3,262 words)

+ reblogs are super duper appreciated ;)

Jimmy is late. Again.

Scott has to remind himself that Jimmy being late is not the end of the world, as much as he currently feels like it is. The man is near consistently late, and he should really be factoring that into his mornings and the schedules at this point, when it’s such an inevitability. Whether it be because his alarm failed to go off even though he checked it five times the night before (and on one memorable occasion even sent a screenshot of the alarm to their groupchat, though he had still been late the next day), or because his bus was late and/or cancelled entirely. Or maybe some other disaster has sprung up and halted Jimmy before he can make it to work this morning.

So, Scott is on his own. He is on his own and facing down a long queue of caffeine-addicted customers that are beginning to grumble at the slowness of the line and its progress. Seriously, though, who has the energy to be up this early in the morning? Admittedly, most of his current customers are overtired uni students that probably wouldn't be able to tell caffeinated coffee from decaffeinated coffee at the moment.

He scowls down at the card machine, punching the numbers into the keypad a little more forcefully than necessary (seriously, would it kill his boss to upgrade their system so the card machines are actually, you know, connected to the tills) before thrusting said machine out towards the next student. They stare at it for several long moments, card gripped in their hand.

They look up, blinking tiredly. “Do you do a student discount?”

“No.” He smiles as pleasantly as he can, mustering the last of his patience and resisting the urge to point at the sign that explicitly states that they do not, in fact, do student discounts. “Sorry about that.” He’s not sorry, not at all, but it seems to appease the student enough because they give in and tap their card to the machine, holding it there until it gives a happy little beep and spits a receipt out.

“Thank you, your drink will be ready in a few minutes.” He smiles at the student until their back is turned, allowing it to drop as soon as they're no longer looking at him, glued to their phone screen instead. He turns to the next customer with a barely restrained sigh, smiling and opening his mouth to begin the spiel that he’s forced to give out to each customer that graces this counter.

“I'm here!” The door to the storage room that also doubles as their break room slams open, bouncing off of the wall behind it and almost slamming straight back into Jimmy’s face. It startles several of the people in the queue out of their half-dozing states, and they blink at him curiously. He watches the canary as well as he struggles to tie his apron properly, hands fumbling over the knots in his speed. “I'm here,” Jimmy repeats, as though they hadn't heard him the first time. “You are not going to believe what happened this morning.”

“The same thing that happens every time you have a morning shift?” He steps back and lets Jimmy slip in front of him and take over the till. Scott sends a small prayer up to whatever deity was watching over him at that moment, feeling his shoulders slump as he gets the opportunity to turn away from the customers and towards the backlog of drinks he hasn't managed to make yet.

“Uhm, no, actually,” Jimmy’s head is turned slightly towards him, but not enough that Scott can actually see his face. “My door - thank you very much, here’s your receipt - locked on me.” Scott allows those words to percolate through his brain, wondering at the same time how Jimmy can seemingly interact with people so effortlessly- go figure, the omen of misfortune is the preferred member of staff at this café.

The milk screams at him as he steams it and he has to try not to flinch back from the sound. The coffee machine rumbles threateningly beside him, letting out a grating wheeze- Scott prays that this moment is not when its last legs collapse beneath it, because that’s really the last thing they need right now.

“Your door locked on you.” He repeats. “Isn't that what it’s supposed to do?”

“Not when I'm trying to get out.” Jimmy squawks, turning away from the customer to look at him. Scott frowns at him until he turns back around, muttering something beneath his breath.

“Did you try using a key?” He asks, helpfully. “I've heard those are rather good at unlocking doors.” He laughs to himself at Jimmy’s grumble of frustration, keeping his back turned as he leans over to grab a few take-away cups.

“Did you try using a key,” Jimmy mimics, in what is possibly one of the worst impressions of a Scottish accent he’s heard so far this month. “Of course I tried using a key- it didn't work!” The card machine buzzes as it spits out another receipt, and Jimmy wordlessly hands the order over to him.

“And yet you're here.” He sets the group of drinks on the counter, calling out for the customer. They perk up, head swivelling around as though someone else might dart forward and take drinks under the exact same name. Only when they realise that he’s actually calling them do they begin to meander their way over. They take the drinks without even a single thanks, the bell above the door ringing as they leave.

“Uh, yeah,” Jimmy turns to face him, leaning back against the counter- and Scott’s surprised to see the lack of a queue, people either sitting down at tables or perching on stools as they wait for their drinks. “Course I'm here. Not about to abandon you to the morning rush, am I?” Jimmy’s face goes a little pink, and his wings ruffle behind him. Scott grins at that, stepping back towards the coffee machine.

“How did you get out of your apartment, Jimmy?” He nudges an elbow against Jimmy’s side as he passes, watches as he gets even pinker with embarrassment. Jimmy avoids his eyes, muttering something beneath his breath.

“What was that?” He asks, cupping a hand behind a fin, leaning slightly closer. Jimmy looks almost as embarrassed as he did after the Sheriff Incident. “I couldn't quite hear you.”

“I said,” Jimmy grits out. “That I had to climb out of the window.”

“You live on the fifth floor.”

“I know that Scott, thank you for pointing it out.” Jimmy turns back around, realises there are still no customers to serve, and turns back again, crossing his arms. “Like I said, not about to abandon you for a morning shift.”

“You're too sweet,” he nudges his hip against Jimmy’s as he passes, two more drinks securely held in his hands. He ignores the small twinge in his leg as he does so, calling out for both customers. Only one of them thanks him as he slides the drinks across the counter and towards them. “Especially as you left your keys behind.”

“I- what? I didn't leave my keys behind.”

“Well they're not in your pockets.”

“I- Scott!” He grins to himself at Jimmy’s protests, “You need to stop doing that, you're going to get in trouble one day for stealing from the wrong person.”

“Haven't been caught since I was nine, Jimmy dear.” He wipes the steam wand down quickly, cleaning the last traces of milk froth from it before turning back to face Jimmy. The last few students that had invaded the café have vanished, taking their drinks with them. “And it’s hardly harming anyone.”

“I think the people you pickpocket might have something to say about that.” Jimmy says.

“Only if you snitch on me, and you're far too nice to do that.”

“Nice enough that you’ll switch me and Pearl for tomorrow morning?”

“Nope!” He grins at Jimmy, ignores the dramatic groan the canary lets out, slumping back onto the counter. He’s going to get feathers in the till again. “I'm not doing a stock check with Pearl.”

Jimmy continues groaning. “Worth a shot.”

“Not really.”

“I want you to know that I hate everything about this.”

Scott hums into his drink, sipping at it before throwing the whole thing back like it’s a shot. The bitter taste is enough to wake him up at least a little more. “You're here on time, at least.”

“I don't need to provide an answer to that.”

“This- Scott, I'm not interrogating you. I'm checking I don't have to call an ambulance in the next five minutes for whatever heart attack you've probably given yourself.”

“On the floor.” He points, “I'm going to read something out and you're going to tell me if we have it.”

“I hate this.” Jimmy peers under the counter anyway, staring into the small space as though it’s going to bite him. Scott nudges at him with his foot, pushing him a little further in.

“Get on with hating it then, do we have any earl grey?”

“Three boxes.” There’s the sound of some shuffling, and then a muffled thump. Jimmy groans as he marks the earl grey off the list.

“Mint?”

“One box.”

“Hm,” he marks it off. “Mint’s been quite popular these past few weeks.”

“Then order some more.” Jimmy sits back on his heels, head just reaching the counter. His hair is covered in dust and Scott has to bite his lip to not laugh. “I don't see why we need to store all the teas here, why can't we store it with everything else?”

“Because I like watching you suffer. Green tea?”

Jimmy grumbles, but ducks back under the counter again, shuffling about. The bell rings as someone enters the shop, and he glances up for a moment, sees who it is, and looks back down at his list.

“Four boxes.” He marks it off. “Is Pix here?”

“Yes,” Pixl leans over the counter, something that no other customers would actually get away with, but they're technically not open yet so Scott doesn't shove him back yet. “Having fun down there Jim?”

“You know it.” Pixl grins at Jimmy’s deadpan response, sliding back across the counter. There’s another muffled thump, and Jimmy swears this time, shuffling backwards until he’s clear of the counter, straightening up. “Good morning.”

“Morning, you look like you've walked out of one of the dig sites.”

“Why-” Jimmy runs his hand through his hair. “Scott! You told me you dusted under there!” He rubs his hands through his hair a little more vigorously, both Scott and Pixl watching him with a grin. “Why didn't you tell me!”

“It’s much more funny to watch you find out yourself.” Scott replies, “Besides, you're not five anymore, you can do things yourself now.”

“Well aren't you hilarious.” Jimmy grumbles, running his hand through his hair again. He’s still rather dusty, but he hasn't noticed it yet and Scott isn't about to tell him. He holds a finger to his lips, swearing Pixl to silence as well. “I'm not doing another stock check with you ever again Scott Smajor, you can fire me, I don't care.”

“Scott Smajor,” Pixl parrots, still grinning. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“That’s not even my name,” he scoffs.

“Uh-huh, and where’s the birth certificate to prove it?” Jimmy asks. “Pics or it didn't happen.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“Your hair is ridiculous.”

Scott pauses, halfway through prepping the coffee machine. “I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.” He says, listening to the silence that follows afterwards. “Usual?”

“Yes, thank you.” He can hear Pixl shuffling behind him. The sound of something heavy being dumped on the bar counter reaches his ears. No doubt Pix’s setting up his stall for the day- next thing he knows it Cleo is going to show up as well and then he won't get a single moment of peace.

Cleo shows up about twenty minutes into the lunch rush.

He ignores her in favour of making sure he doesn't burn his hands on the small oven or the hot food that his boss insists they serve, despite it being the most inconvenient thing to ever happen to Scott. The beeper is annoying and it doesn't shut up until he manages to grab a moment to turn it off- which is never because it’s the lunch rush and they're constantly busy.

Jimmy is banned from touching the oven. The last time he did so he managed to get several third degree burns and Scott had to take him to A&E after shutting the café for the afternoon. Him and Tango managed to have a rather pleasant conversation in the waiting room, at least.

“You look like you're having fun.”

“Thanks, Cleo.” He cleans the steam wands off quickly, readjusting them before he turns and snatches the milk jugs off the counter, before Jimmy can even think about trying to steam the milk. The milk screams at him, though he does his best to grit his teeth and bear the sound until the milk is finished. “Just a few more minutes and the worst should be over.”

“No murder victims yet?”

“Not yet,” he hands the coffee over to a customer with a smile, ignoring the worried look they shoot him at Cleo’s words. “Though you're beginning to look like a rather tempting target.”

“Oh, please. I welcome your attempts. How do you kill something that’s already dead?”

“Spite.”

Pixl laughs. “He’s got you there.”

The next few customers blur together, with Jimmy handing him tickets almost every few seconds. His leg aches something awful and he is seriously looking forward to his break, even if Cleo’s going to make him drink something other than coffee now that she’s here. And she doesn't even do it in a nice way, just invites herself round the counter and pours his coffee down the sink.

He leans against the counter when they have a small lull, resisting the urge to bash his head against said counter until everything goes nice and quiet and dark.

“Has Pearl been by already today?” Cleo asks.

“Yeah, she dropped off a few tubs of brownies and a cheesecake.” He gestures towards where he knows the cake display is, where Cleo is no doubt already looking. “Fancy anything?”

“Not really, just wondered if she was working today.”

“Not today. She had something on last night, just said she wouldn't be in today.”

Cleo hums. “Full moon last night.”

“Yup.” He glances up at the clock, wondering if he can go on break early. He then remembers that he is the manager and can do whatever he wants.

“Strange coincidence.”

“Please stop speculating about Pearl while she’s not here.” He drags himself around the counter, sitting down beside Pixl, careful to not lean on any of his notes or knock any of his pens from the counter. “You’ll summon her.”

“She’s not a demon, Scott.” Jimmy joins in, leaning over the counter to peer at him. “She won't appear if you say her name three times.”

“Don't you have some tables you should be cleaning?” He says, in lieu of a response. His leg continues to ache, even though he’s sat down.

“You're the least fun person I've ever met.” Jimmy complains.

“Good. Get on with it.”

Jimmy had an afternoon lecture, something which one of his classmates - fWhip - reminded him about twenty minutes before it was due to begin.

Scott isn't actually sure how Jimmy has survived this long- wouldn't believe that he had managed to exist before now if he hadn't met him in college. One of the many mysteries of the world is Jimmy’s continued survival. Scientists would study him if they had the chance.

Jimmy’s absence means that Scott is being forced to finish the stock check beneath the counter, ignoring Cleo’s comments about the music currently playing- he doesn't exactly get to choose the music. Jimmy does all of that, and the poor man really needs someone to introduce him to a band that still has all of its members alive.

He winces at a particularly bad note, almost bad enough to cover the chiming of the bell. He sticks his head back above the counter, narrowly missing bumping his head on the underneath of it.

It’s someone he’s never seen before, not one of their regulars, peering about the place with curiosity clear on his face.

He hauls himself to his feet, ignoring the protesting of his leg and knee as he does so. The customer is…annoyingly handsome, in a rather charming way. His eyes glitter with mirth as he approaches, hair flopping over his face despite the headband he wears presumably to avoid exactly that.

“You have a little something in your hair, buddy.” And as with all men, Scott is disappointed as soon as he opens his mouth. Cleo turns away, covering their mouth as they attempt to smother a laugh. He resists the urge to glare at her.

“Thanks.” He brushes a hand through his hair, careful not to pull it from where it’s coiled at the back of his head. “What can I get you?”

“I don't know,” the man leans against the counter, “any recommendations?”

“Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee,” the man pulls a face. “Not a big tea fan.”

“No one ever is.” Pixl mutters, pulling his mug of tea closer to himself. Pixl is the only man Scott respects right now.

“Our latte’s the most popular coffee, do you want that?”

“Sounds lovely,” the man’s eyes meet his own. “Say, you have some rather unique eyes, don't you?”

“You could say that, why, want a closer look?” He leans a little further over the counter, smiling slightly as he watches the man’s eyes widen, no doubt not expecting him to respond- really, if he wants things to go his way he needs to get better at flirting. “Your eyes are rather nice too.” He says, “if I was able to see them.”

The man rests his arms on the counter, wallet clutched loosely in one hand. It’s already open, card halfway pulled free. He looks back up, continuing to smile at the man.

“Shall I make you that latte?” He pulls back, watching as the man takes a moment to regather himself, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, yes please. Thank you.” The man pays, almost appearing to be in a trance with the way he’s blinking, looking around as though he’s not sure of where he is. Scott turns, smirking to himself as he makes the coffee, handing it over in a take-away cup a few moments later.

“Thanks.” The man takes the coffee absently, turning around and walking from the shop, bell ringing merrily in his wake.

“Scott,” Pixl says.

“Pixl,” he mocks. “C’mon, who flirts with a barista?”

“That guy, apparently.” Cleo says, still watching him walk away. “He looked like you blindfolded him and spun him a hundred times before setting him loose again.”

“If he wanted to keep his wallet safe, he shouldn't have gotten distracted by my eyes.” He sticks the five-pound note into the tip jar. “Besides, it’s not like he’ll be back.”

#juno.writes #scott smajor #inthelittlewood #martyn inthelittlewood #trafficshipping #majorwood #coral kids #mean gills #empires smp #life series #trafficblr #traffic smp #traffic series #trafficverse #jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #watcher's nest café au #trafficfic

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triplesilverstar · 19 days

Text

An Easter Hunt

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Knives X F!Reader

CW: Dom/Sub undertones, Mentions of future, Future children, mentions of public sex

Word count: Roughly 1.3K

A/N: Chapter twenty two of the series, where you and Nai are out for a walk and after a run in with a child you and Nai have a discussion.

Walking through the park that sat in the central location of the city was usually interesting, on this particular Sunday it was more so than usual for one reason. Your boyfriend had wanted to go for a walk which was slowly becoming more and more common for the two of you.

Just not always during daylight hours since Nai had a thing for ducking into thick foliage at night and sinking into your warmth.

Another item to add how it was out of the ordinary was that it was the annual Easter egg hunt. The final item being one that made you laugh on the inside because you were not giving him a free reason to punish you.

Nai, abhorred children.

So seeing a boy, no older than seven come running out of the bushes with a basket filled with colorful eggs, bounce into your boyfriend's leg sending his jeweled prizes tumbling everywhere, and start to cry, while Nai looked down with abject terror was absolutely hilarious to you.

If it had been anywhere else, Nai would have just snorted his disdain and kept on walking, but today when so many members of the public, and well-known members of the public at that, out and about, it meant he had to try and console the child. “Ah, there there” His head is whipping towards you and for the first time since you’ve known the hard man, a brief flash of panic is reflected in them. You know his panic has nothing to do with the child, more in regards to his public image and you can picture the headlines now.

CEO of Saverem Inc. Charming businessman or ruthless monster? K. Saverem seen stealing Easter eggs from Children.

Shaking your head you pick up the boy's basket, placing the displaced eggs back inside, and maybe tossing in a few that had been hidden in the area nearby. All the while hearing terrible consoling from your boyfriend while the child's crying seems to just get louder. Eggs collected, you rejoin them and drop down to be closer to eye level with the boy.

“Hey there young man. I see you’ve met my boyfriend” Your cheerful tone has the boy turning to look at you instead of rubbing at his eyes. “I know he looks a little scary” you snicker here, causing the boy's tears to slow “but I promise he’s very nice.” A lie, he’s only nice to you and a few select others, and even then that’s when he feels like it.

You hold your hand out and introduce yourself to the boy, who nods and takes your hand so you can help him stand. “Here’s your basket back. Now let's dry those silly tears because I hear the Easter bunny might still be around. You wouldn’t want him to think you didn’t like the eggs he hid for you to find would you?” The boy is shaking his head while you pull some tissue from your purse and gently wipe his face. Tears and snot dried you smile at him, all teeth, to which the boy smiles back “Now, be more careful ok? Next time the people might not be as nice as us.” Waving as the boy runs off you walk to one of the garbage pails next to a bench tossing the used tissues away.

“Perhaps it would have been more helpful if you had consoled the child first, Pet” You shake your head, not sure what you’d been expecting the gruff man to say. Returning to his side, you take his offered arm as you continue your walk. “While you handled that adequately, there was no need to call me scary.” His tone is back to its normal one of cool indifference, but at this point, you can read in between the lines. He’s going to enjoy using it as an excuse to punish you later, and you find yourself warming at the thought.

“I won’t say I’m sorry, because I think the kid needed to hear it, besides I don’t think you’re scary. I think you’re quite handsome, with those sharp features of yours.” You grin, feeling the light chuckle through his arm. “You aren’t good with kids though. What are you going to do if we ever have any?” A strange conversation to have in a park, but after this long in the relationship you’d like to know his stance on kids. Hell if you weren’t taking several different kinds of precautious at this point the two of you might have had one already.

“I never intend to father any offspring. Strange as this may sound Pet, I value my time with you too highly to see it reduced. Most men of my standing procreate to produce an heir to their empire, which are raised by hired help.” You find yourself a little surprised at his words, but they do make sense. Hearing him state that he does, in his Nai way, admit that he enjoys your company does send a shiver down your spine. “I cannot picture you allowing some stranger to raise a child you bear, therefore, children would cut into our time together.” You can honestly admit that was an answer you never expected to hear, but damn Nai and his logic because he is right. You’d want to be a mother to any kid you had, not send them off for a nanny to do the work for you.

“So you wouldn’t want a Nai junior to take over your company someday?” It does surprise you a little, Nai plans everything. Hell Nai probably already has your entire life planned out for the two of you because at this point you honestly can’t see him getting rid of you.

“At the rate my brother, and his little harem copulate, I imagine it won’t be too long until my brother is a father. One of his brood should be intelligent enough to garner my attention and I can groom them to take my place.” You almost laugh at that, Nai’s voice full of nothing but disdain, while he loves his brother as much as any normal sibling relationship goes. He despises the fact that his twin is dating not one but two people. While he has no issue with the woman his twin is dating and following like a love sick puppy a woman in his own employ in his human resources department at the moment. It’s the man that his twin is involved with that makes Nai’s blood boil. Nicholas D. Wolfwood. A man that as far as Knives is concerned is like the ten plagues of ancient Egypt and Nai the pharaoh sitting atop his throne. Something about Wolfwood has never sat right in Nai’s gut regarding how the two of them had come to meet, which you’ve heard from Nai often whenever he saw the dark haired man.

Choosing to change the subject you speak up with a giggle watching another child run by. “Well, what if I want a baby with you?” Glancing at him you can see the cogs in his head turning, almost like it’s a possibility he hadn’t considered. Very much not like the calculating ruthless man he can be.

“Do you want children with me, Pet?” His voice is controlled as he asks, a single eyebrow raised while he turns to look at your face.

“I’m not sure” you answer him honestly, because you really don’t know. Not at this point in your life. You tell him the same as you both come to a stop, closer to the main events that seem to be happening in the park. The cool spring air causes you to shiver in your coat, Nai’s hand coming to rest over your fingers.

“If the time comes, we’ll discuss it then pet. For now, we’ll continue under the pretense we will not be parents.” You find yourself agreeing, but the thoughts do keep swirling around in your head, would you want to have a kid with the brooding man who's stolen your heart?

Back to series

#millions knives smut #millions knives x reader #millions knives x reader smut #modern au #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #trigun smut #twink writes #knives smut #millions knives #knives x reader

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mslanna · 2 months

Text

First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

Gentle, mushy softness for soppy hearts like mine. Chapter 28 of Be My Guest now up on AO3

Tav wakes and it is morning somewhere. They are buried under devil arm and wing, engulfed in the heavy musk of the night and soft overtones of cherry lingering. Their body hums content with satisfaction and exertion. A few crescent marks pulse on their skin, familiar and comforting. It is almost as if they never left.

Almost.

They are free. There is no contract binding their soul. Free to come and go as they please. Free to stay for however long they long to. Tav snuggles closer to Raphael, infernal heat washing over them.

The devil tightens his grip in return, nuzzling Tav's ear softly. "A penny for your thoughts."

"Cheapsake." Tav turns their head slightly to intercept his mouth. When they pull apart, they run their fingers through his hair. "Does your tight schedule allow for such delays?"

"I am Archdevil of Five Hells," he replies in mock offence. "I make my own schedule. People wait for me, not the other way round."

"Then let's make them wait." Tav pulls him against their comfortably sore body and Raphael follows back into a deep kiss.

Whoever has appointments waits for a long time indeed. Raphael has no hurry and indulges any of Tav's desires. He hums under the care of their hands on his horns. A comfort he missed dearly. When the human finishes, he turns around and places a soft kiss on their forehead.

"Find me when you are ready." His hands trail down their sides as his eyes rake over the thin red lines marking them clearly as his once again. He leaves and Tav notes that a slight swing remains in his tail.

Tav smiles to themself and looks around their retrieved home. They will have to return to Baldur's gate soon and explain their sudden disappearance to Karlach and Wyll. But first, their eyes settle on the huge tub, ready for a sweltering bath abounding with scented salts and luxurious oils.

They barely moved from the bed, when the door opens again, and Raphael strides in, tail dancing in agitation. "You have – visitors. I managed to sit them down in the Feast Hall, but they are unhappy and demand to see you. Now."

Tav's jaw drops. This is way faster than they expected. Any thought of a slothful bath is discarded unhappily. "Tell them I'll be there in five and a half minutes. I need to wash at least. Fuck. I was – doesn't matter. Bath's not going anywhere. Pleas ask them to leave you in once piece because I still need you."

Raphael raises a brow but Tav shoos him away, ready to speed-run a cleaning routine. After washing and brushing their teeth perfunctory, they grab one of their shirts that smells of disuse and dust. When they see the teeth marks on their throat, Tav hesitates for a moment, fingers feathering over the angry red crusts on their skin.

They shake it off. This is who they are and they will not be ashamed. If a devil can give up a soul, they can give up some of their dignity. Tav ends up running through the House of Hope, hair still damp to keep to their time. When they reach the Feast Hall, Tav runs into the disapproving stares of their friends like into a brick wall.

Still, their heart jumps at the sight of Karlach, Wyll and Astarion, lined up like birds on a branch at the table, plates laden with untouched food. Tav grins, and bounces to them, ready to hug them, come what may.

Their excitement smooths over some of the resentment, though Tav feels the glances hitch on the marks on their skin. They slip onto a chair next to their friends and help themself to buns, butter and bacon. "I am sorry for slipping away. I couldn't sleep. I tried, I promise."

"And so you decided to gallivant off to the hells without letting us know?" Hurt is clear in Wyll's words.

"I didn't think I'd stay this long," Tav admits sheepishly. "I just wanted to say thanks and be back by breakfast. I swear."

"That did not go as planned, did it now?" Astarion inquires.

"Heh." Tav blushes. "Not all the way, no. But it went better."

Incredulous stares make them drop the knife, bun still stuck on it. "Firstly, the problem with people hunting me down as part of a bargain with Raphael is dealt with. So I should not find myself in such a – predicament again."

"You worried the hells out of us, soldier," Karlach reaches for Tav's arm and grasps it tightly. "You could have left a note."

"I could and I'm sorry." Tav looks at their plate for a moment. "I'd say 'next time' but there won't be one. Raphael burnt my contract."

Silence falls over the group.

"He did?" Karlach finally asks.

"Yes." Tav looks at their hands. "I didn't even ask for it, he just -" Tav saps their fingers. "Like that."

"I have not heard of a devil forsaking a soul they own before," Wyll raises a suspicious brow. "You are certain it was your contract?"

"You feel it, don't you, when it is yours and then it is gone." They look Wyll in the eye. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

Reluctantly he nods. "I am happy for you."

"So am I, but where does it leave you?" Astarion wants to know.

"Here." Tav shrugs. "I never left because I didn't want to be here. It was the circumstances. And with those changed." Their cheeks burn even hotter. "I like it here. It is – home. And now that I can come and go as I please." They grin and look at Astarion. "I hear we have quite an adventure ahead of us."

"That's it?" Wyll asks. "He burns your contract and you stay?"

"In broad strokes, yes. Of course I still need a way to come and go easily. Can't rely on poor Helsik for that forever. But once I have my own door, this is home base."

"I hope you know what you're doing." Karlach shakes her head. But there is only so much she can do, considering who get her heart repaired and what negligible price she paid for that. "Well, that back door of yours will come in very handy if things get out of control," Astarion smirks. "The Sunburst Solace has been lost for centuries. We will not be without competition once word gets around."

"It will be such fun." Tav beams and picks up their bun again. "Tell me all the new intel you got."

The chance to shift to another topic is accepted eagerly and Tav spends a happy breakfast with their friends planning to retrieve an artefact that hopefully allows Astarion to walk under the sun again. When the three leave through the portal Tav feels light and elated in a way they haven't for a long time. Maybe since before the nautiloid snatched them up. But that is nothing to dwell on now. A long hot bath is waiting.

Tav skips down the stairs back into their suite. They emerge much later, their skin red from hot water and perfumed with bathing salts. Every muscle in their body feels soft and relaxed and the door to Raphael's study stands open. For a moment Tav wonders if he has means to watch every place in his house. The idea paints a mischievous grin over their lips. There are ways to test that. Some day soon.

For now, all they want is to be close to their devil. Raphael beckons them in and shuts the door with a wave of his hands. "I assume your friends left the house placated?"

"As much as possible." Tav leans against his shoulder over the armrest. "Which leaves the question of how I will get in and out on my own. I don't see Helsik approving of me breaking into her place every other day."

"Oh, so you think you will be leaving?" Raphael pulls them onto his lap and warps an arm around Tav to continue working. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Tav snuggles against his chest with a snort. "Just try to keep me taped down. You won't get anything done but me."

Raphael laughs and Tav shakes on his lap, holding on to him. They missed his laughter, to know he can be carefree around them – his true self.

"I see where that may pose a problem to ruling five hells." He tilts Tav back to look at their face and the lines of mirth edged into it. "Delightful as the image is, I there are other things that will occupy my time."

"My thoughts exactly." Tav traces his jaw. "But with an insta-portal or something similar, I can be back home from wherever, whenever. Sleep in my own bed without chancing the diabolists ire each time."

"I am certain a solution will present itself within the day." Raphael puts down his quill. "Where will you go?"

"Uncertain. Astarion has leads on an item that will protect him from the sun. We will find it. Though," Tav smirks, "I worry. It seems unlikely nobody has ever heard of the Sunburst Solace. Such powerful magic. Even if it was lost for a long time."

Raphael rumbles non-committal. "There will be reasons and you will find them."

"Depending on where we are, I may just stay in camp, though. I missed the companionship of that. Being miserable and cold and wet together." Tav closes their eyes and leans their head back against the devil's chest. "You should try it some time."

"In your wildest dreams." He drops a kiss on their hair.

It's beneath Tav to reply to that. For a while the scratching of the quill on parchment is the only sound in the room.

"And what are your plans for now, pray tell?" Raphael asks as he reaches for another parchment, movement slightly encumbered by the human on his lap.

"Now?" Tav murmurs drowsily. "I just want to sit here and listen to the beat of your heart."

Raphael stills, hand frozen in its tight grip around Tav's waist. "For now," he finally says. "But know that later you won't be able to avoid a clandestine dinner."

"I shall arm myself for the ordeal with a book," Tav hums. "And an emergency plan of seduction."

"Is this how you plan to win your arguments?"

"As long as it works." They reach up and pull his head down for a gentle kiss. "Nobody stopping you from adopting the same strategy."

"Hmm." Raphael hums onto the kiss before resting his chin on Tav's head.

Maybe it's not perfect. Evening will come with clandestine dinner and heated words leading to burning desire. Morning will come and they will leave to help their friend. But right here, right now, the world balances on the tip of perfection, wrapped up against Raphael's heart. And that is enough.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #mel writes fanfic #be my guest #chapter 28

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 months

Text

Have you never heard of such a thing, darling?

(The Timari Buzzfeed Unsolved AU)

Chapter 2: The Mysterious Case of Haly’s Circus

The video opens, as always, with Tim sitting on the couch, ramrod straight despite the apparent comfortableness of his cushions, smiling in a way that he knows will set people on edge.

People who have been watching Tim’s channel for a while are suddenly struck with the same feeling that new viewers endure when they open one of his videos for the first time. There is something wrong here, though they can’t quite put their finger on what, exactly, is off.

It is never quite scary. It is hard to be scared of a teenage boy. But it is certainly unsettling.

The reason becomes apparent soon enough: the couch is not pressed to the wall as much as it usually was.

Not that this was an easy thing to realize… until someone pops out of the gap for no reason outside of wanting to be dramatic, smiling widely at the audience.

“I’m back by popular demand!” Marinette says. She leans her arms on the back of the couch. “I’m not sure why I agreed. He doesn’t pay me. I’m being exploited.”

“I literally do pay you.”

“Riiiiight, of course you do,” she says, winking. “Don’t worry, GCPD people watching this, I am well taken care of. There is no fraud going on.”

“I don’t think I like this bit,” Tim mumbles.

“Sucks to suck! I do!”

He huffs. “Why did I invite you along again?”

“Because Alya said that I didn’t complete the bet and you’re lonely?”

“You know, at some point, I’m going to sue you for slander.”

“Public figures can’t really sue for slander!”

Tim’s eyebrows raised. “Is that true?”

“Yeah. It’s why tabloids get away with everything. Probably worth a google.”

He groans and rests his head in his hands. This does not entirely hide the faint smile on his face or the way his shoulders shake with barely restrained laughter. But it’s the effort that counts. Probably.

“Okay. Editor!Me, roll intro.”

The terrible dubstep intro is back, to everyone’s utter dismay. ‘The Gotham Files, with Tim Drake’ bounces around the screen once again, but it ends soon enough, thankfully.

Unfortunately, it is quickly replaced by another intro, complete with a different terrible dubstep song and set of strobe lights, proclaiming that ‘Marinette is also here!!!!!!!!!!’

People who listen closely can hear both of them giggling in the background.

Then, there is a hard cut to the two of them standing outside of what looks to be a run-down carnival. The sign above them declares the place to be Haly’s, but it has long since been graffitied over to say ‘Hell’s’ instead.

Marinette does not seem particularly happy about this change, gripping her new ‘company-provided’ flashlight (Tim gave her a spare he found lying around his house so she wouldn’t drain her phone battery) like it was a lifeline.

Tim pays it no mind, other than a murmur of how cliche it is. He smiles at the camera. “Now, since my intro was so rudely interrupted by Marinette –.”

“Popping out from behind the couch was your idea.”

“– I will explain everything now! We are at the site of Haly’s circus. Twelve years ago, tragedy struck during a seemingly routine circus act. A trapeze line snapped, and John and Mary Grayson fell to their deaths, right in front of their young son.”

There is a moment of silence for the two fallen.

Tim brightens up the moment sixty seconds have finished passing. “And, dear viewers, this particular case is a special one, because I was there when it happened!”

Marinette frowns just slightly.

Tim laughs and waves her off immediately. “I was three, I don’t remember any of it, don’t worry about it.”

She looks somewhat unconvinced, but glances at the camera and decides to drop it. Her concern is wiped from her face like it had never been there at all. She smiles and elbows him in the side. “I guess it’s… a plan to conquer trauma by adding another trauma on top of it. Men would rather visit a haunted theme park than go to therapy.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not adding more trauma on top of it, I’m not going to be traumatized. There’s nothing here that can traumatize me.”

“The ghosts are going to make it their mission to prove you wrong, you know.”

“Yeah yeah, my hubris will be my downfall, of this I am aware,” he intones. And then he goes back to addressing the camera. “Now, to this day, people suspect foul play, but police refuse to investigate. Perfect conditions for a possible ghost, don’t you think? So, as always, we are here to solve the mystery of whether the supernatural exists!”

“It does. Can we go home now?”

“Thank you for your investigative journalism,” he says sarcastically, but he slings his arm over her shoulder regardless, pulling her into his side. “Besides, you don’t have to worry. With all the stuff I’ve said to diss them over the years, ghosts – if they were real, which they aren’t – would go for me first.”

“Then could you please let go? I don’t want to be near you when that happens,” she teases.

He huffs a laugh and lifts his arm, allowing her plenty of time to get away. She remains close to his side.

He snickers and lets his arm fall right back into its seemingly perpetual spot around her shoulders. “It’s just an hour.” On cue, bright red numbers appear in the top right corner of the screen, a timer waiting for them to step over the threshold before it could start. “Then we can both leave, yeah?”

“Just an hour,” she mumbles disdainfully.

“Hey, I usually stay overnight. We can do that instead, if you want.”

The video cuts to show… someone, sitting at a desk, in the dark. Their silhouette is rather chunky, it is clear they are draped in one of the biggest, fluffiest blankets known to man. But they are not the focus. No, instead the camera zooms in, to look at the two different computer screens in front of the person. One of them is clearly editing software, and the other is on YouTube. Viewers can see that he is apparently listening to the ChipiChipiChapaChapa song on loop, and has been for at least three hours. Now, though, he finally opens a second tab. The keyboard clacks as they google ‘what time is the sunrise in Gotham’. The mouse circles the time stamp on the bottom of the screen, and the person mumbles under their breath. Apparently doing math, because they edit the timer to say 8:06:45.

The viewers are back to the actual video, where Marinette is laughing.

Tim does not join her.

Her laughter does not quite peter off, but it does gain a slightly nervous edge.

“That’s… a joke right?” she says. “You don’t actually stay in haunted places for hours every time, do you?”

“Well, no, but the only reason I don’t is that there is no such thing as a ‘haunted place’. I do hang out at attractions like this overnight, though.”

“Actually, an hour seems fine.”

The video pauses. Editor!Tim heaves a deep sigh and the clock changes back to its original one-hour-long countdown.

“Also, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” Marinette huffs when time returns to normal. They finally step into the carnival together, and the timer starts ticking down. “At least try and pretend like you think ghosts could exist, to make things fair.”

“You think that this place has a house of mirrors somewhere?” he asks. “Because I would like to introduce you to the most stubborn person to exist.”

She huffs. She might have rolled her eyes, but she was too concerned with drinking in every detail of the world around them, searching for anything amiss.

There was a lot amiss about the place, to be fair to her. Old popcorn bags lay forgotten on the ground, abandoned in a rush and trampled under hundreds of feet, their previously bright colors muddied by the elements over the years. What had once been gleaming, colorful rides were now rusting. A family of opossums peers at them suspiciously from behind a couple of molding stuffed animals, their eyes gleaming hauntingly when their flashlights turn on them.

But nothing supernatural.

The longer they go without finding anything of note, the more Marinette relaxes.

She tugs at Tim’s backpack, and he gives her a mildly questioning look, but lets her open it and pull out a spray can of bright red paint.

“How –? When –?”

“A lady never reveals her secrets,” she says, smirking, tossing the can from hand to hand.

“Isn’t that saying supposed to be about – uh – demonitizable things?”

“Probably,” she shrugs. “Not my problem, though.”

“Uh. I think it is, actually,” he laughs. “You’re going to give the viewers the wrong idea about you.”

“Oh no. The supernatural-obsessed, parasocial people in your comment section are going to witch hunt me. Oh nooooooo.”

“You know, they’d probably be happy if they managed to kill you. More things for me to investigate – and with a personal element.”

“They’re just mad because they get no –.”

No one can guess what word is bleeped out here.

He groans, but he is still grinning widely. “Don’t insult my audience and their lack of... dates! You know how important my viewer retention rates are to me!”

She sticks her tongue out at him, slipping out from under his arm and walking over to the nearest contraption. It’s a gravitron, from the looks of things – one of those rides where they spin you around so quickly that you can stick to the walls.

Marinette tugs her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose (Tim quickly shifts the camera upwards at the sight of the barest sliver or midriff with mumbles of ‘demonetization’) and spray paints the words ‘Marinette and Tim were here’.

She looks at it for a moment, seemingly thinking hard, before adding a tiny heart next to their names.

Tim groans. “You’re going to make the shippers freak out.”

Her shirt falls away from her face when she tips her head back in a laugh, and she tosses the can into a nearby trash can. It thumps against something inside, but no pissed-off animals come seeking revenge, so they pay this no mind.

“You can always cut it out in editing.”

“Mmmm trueeeeee,” he says, humming thoughtfully. “But I’d prefer not to. Engagement, you know?”

She gives a little hum of her own before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

His face flushes pink. “What was that for?”

“Engagement.”

He gasps and presses the back of his hand to his forehead, like a Victorian woman who is about to faint over a couch because she happened to catch sight of a collarbone. “Oh of course it’s for the views and not for me,” he pretends to pout.

She grins widely, opening her mouth to respond, but it seems that they are not allowed to enjoy themselves and have fun.

For, in that second, the carnival whirrs to life.

Lights, muted and strangely speckled due to the accumulation of years of grime, shine down on them. The speakers crackle to life, playing songs they hadn’t heard in years. The rides creak as their rusty gears are forced into motion once again.

If you, dear viewer, pay close enough attention, you can see the exact moment the light in their eyes dies.

It coincides pretty well with the lights in the park flicking on.

Hence why paying close attention is vitally important.

Needless to say, the kids are stressed. Probably because the abandoned amusement park does not seem all that abandoned anymore.

“Any chance we tripped a motion sensor somewhere?” Marinette asks.

Tim looks like he has accidentally swallowed a lemon. “Uh… I don’t think that they would still be working after this long…”

“Great! Great. That’s what I thought, too,” Marinette says, her voice squeaking in a way that suggests she does not, in fact, think it is great.

“But – but! There is always an explanation for supernatural phenomena,” Tim says, though he is eyeing the contraption warily. It is hard to tell who he is comforting – Marinette, or himself. Hopefully himself, seeing as he was utterly failing to calm down Marinette. “Noxious fumes causing hallucinations, confirmation bias, a trick done by living people for the sake of monetary gain (a la Scoobert Doo), the wind...”

“You know, at some point this loops around to being in denial,” Marinette mumbles, pressing so close to his side that it starts to look like she is trying to meld with him.

“Shut up,” is all he can manage in retort.

There is a loud bang nearby and the pair of teens scream. Their heads spin on a swivel, and the video is briefly impossible to watch without getting sick. By the time things stabilize, the teens have come up with a solution. Marinette points at the big top, the largest and most instantly recognizable building. It’s the only place that would provide proper cover.

Not that that would do that much good against a ghost, but you have to at least try to survive in situations like these.

“There! C’mon!”

Tim makes a vague sound of protest, but Marinette is already running, and he is dragged along for the ride.

Perhaps that is not the best phrasing, since a kiddie ride they pass screeches off the rails, and they only barely stop in time to avoid getting run over by a roller coaster car.

The ghost is hot on their heels.

Marinette and Tim hop the car, adrenaline fueling them, their feet thudding against the dirt.

Neon lights spark and shatter overhead, raining sparks and gas down upon them.

Marinette’s shirtsleeve catches, and Tim is quick to put it out for her, because she doesn’t even seem to notice, too focused on helping him into the circus tent.

It is as if they have walked into another world. A kinder one, without weird ghosts that are trying to kill them for intruding upon the place they had once died. It is blissfully dark, the only sound their own ragged breathing. After all the bright lights and loud sounds and near murder attempts, it is nice.

Electricity whirrs.

A spotlight blares down on them, briefly, a clear I know you’re here, before it slides away, down to its natural resting position in the middle of the tent.

Now, you may know I am here, too.

A man in a torn circus uniform sits in the spotlight, sobbing into his hands. A tarp lay stretched beneath the long-since broken trapeze, almost mockingly, as if the ghost is making a joke about how easily avoidable their deaths had been, if only they had used a net that night. The dust they had kicked up upon entering catches in the spotlight, making it look as if the air itself is reacting to the ghost, dancing with shimmering lights.

Marinette is physically shaking by this point, her nails digging into Tim’s arm hard enough to draw blood. Tim doesn’t look much better, either, his face an ashy gray color.

Red pools in the sand the ghost kneels in.

“... wait,” Tim breathes.

He moves as if to take a step forward, but Marinette is still holding onto him, and she clearly has no intentions of getting any closer to the ghost.

Tim meets her eyes.

“Trust me.”

She bites her lip, but when he moves again she allows herself to be pulled with him.

They make their way down the steps.

He moves to make his way over the railing and jump down into the sand pit, but the lights flicker and go out.

The hand Marinette has on him is the only thing that stops him from braining himself on the ground. He wouldn’t have died, probably, but it still would have been quite an embarrassing moment to have caught on camera.

When the lights turn back on, Tim sends her a grateful smile.

Marinette doesn’t return it. Her eyes are locked on where the ghost is.

Or, was.

She doesn’t seem much more relieved by the lack of it.

Tim jumps down and helps her come down after him. Slowly, they make their way over to where the ghost had been.

He crouches to squint at the pool of blood. Marinette gags and drags her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose again. Tim looks like he very much wants to do the same, but he has other things he needs to do, first. He rifles through his backpack, his eyes never leaving the ground.

“Tim…” she says, quietly. “We should go.”

He sends her a hesitant smile. “I want a sample of this.”

He pulls out a flashlight and points it out into the darkness provided by the tarp.

There stands the ghost.

Well, it isn’t a ghost. A ghost wouldn’t cringe away from a sudden bright light being shone into their eyes. Nor would it be wearing stage makeup.

The grimy-looking clothes check out, though. A+ for effort on that, that trapeze outfit definitely looks like someone died in it.

The man glances behind himself briefly, as if considering running, before his shoulders slump in clear defeat.

He groans. “What gave it away?”

Tim points at the blood on the ground. “It should be dry by now.”

“It’s –? I’m supposed to be a ghost? The blood being wet is not the most unbelievable part?”

There was a long beat of silence.

“Oh,” says Tim.

The man – Dick Grayson, the sole surviving member of the Flying Graysons – looks like he wants to scream. Which he does, but not in the traditional way: “Jay! Cass! Come out!”

Two people step out into the light, looking just as irritable about the whole situation.

They, too, are wearing ratty clothes.

Oh. Praise revoked. The clothes are not a Choice. They are simply poor.

Marinette groans and slumps into Tim, burying her face in his shoulder as if she can’t bear to see the world anymore. He loops his arm around her, dragging her ever closer.

“Ready to stop believing that ghosts are real, yet?” Tim teases softly.

She groans. Again. Louder. She beats her fist against his chest, but there is no real power or anger behind it.

And then she fixes the three homeless people with a tired look. “I understand why you’re doing this and all… like, the economy sucks, get that bag – or free housing, I guess… but…”

There is a long string of beeps as Marinette lets loose a frankly impressive number of swears. It’s doubly impressive when one remembers that she isn’t even speaking in her first language. Go her. Clearly, she took her English lessons very seriously.

When she finally feels better, she flashes a smile and sticks her hand out for the second guy to shake.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The guy looks confused, but he shakes it.

The video cuts abruptly. The three homeless people are waving them off as Tim and Marinette head back to his car. The viewers would never get to know exactly what was said that day, but it seems they're leaving each other on well-enough terms.

“Sucks that we went through all of that just to not be able to post any of it,” she sighs. “The GCPD would probably arrest them or something.”

“Nah, it’s fine. We can just cut around it and say it was a front for the mafia. The police hate the poor, but they won't mess with organized crime. Because a lot of them are in it.”

“Oh! Great!” she says. Her tone seems to be almost sarcastic. Almost, because why would it be? It is a great plan.

“I’ll keep the real footage on my Patreon, though. My journalistic credibility shall not be marred.” He winks at the camera. “Say hi to the Patreon viewers.”

While she does lift her hand in a vague wave, she does not seem particularly soothed by his words. Perhaps because his ‘journalistic integrity’ was not at all what she had been concerned about.

“Alright, now, we need to convince the nonpaying viewers that we are scared out of our minds because of mafia b.s., so put on your best concerned face.”

Marinette looks at him.

“Perfect! And we’re rolling again!” He turns to address the camera, all wide eyes and frantic hand movements. “Okay, so, it turns out this place is a mafia hideout. Who knew?”

Marinette’s lips begin to twitch into a slight smile at his antics. “Well, I’m going back to France in a few days, so this is not my problem.”

He gasps. “You’re going to leave me here to die?! After all we’ve been through?!”

“Yep.”

Tim looks devastated.

She giggles. “Fine, fine, I’ll stuff you in my backpack and you can come with me.”

He lights back up again instantly. “Ohmygod! We can have The Gotham Files: World Tour!”

“Mmmm, I only live in France,” Marinette points out, which certainly makes the ‘World Tour’ seem less than stellar all of a sudden.

Tim takes it in stride, though. “The Gotham Files: France Tour!”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is nothing but fond. “Nice save.”

“I know. I’m kind of awesome.”

“And always right!” she adds, in the kind of tone that suggests they’ve joked like this before many times offscreen.

“And always right,” he agrees, nodding along, sage in his always right-ness.

“Except…” Marinette says, smirking. “You were almost convinced about the ghosts for a second there. I think that means that, somewhere, you know the supernatural exists.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. He shrugs lazily. “I just think that, if ghosts were real and could affect our reality in any meaningful way, white people just wouldn’t exist anymore.”

It is quiet for a solid nine seconds.

Marinette has stopped walking. Tim slows, turns to look at her, mildly concerned.

“Mari –?”

“Fuck, maybe ghosts don’t exist.”

The video ends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3

#maribat #timari #timinette #shutterbug #timmari #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #have you never heard of such a thing darling?

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ratcatcher0325 · 1 year

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A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #23)

Alright, here we go with another angsty mess nightmare hospital chapter.

So grateful to @not-a-space-alien, @kitn-underfoot, and @thegodmother007 for beta reading and giving me some awesome feedback!

Chapter #23. Will our hero make it out of surgery and finally be done with this mess?

Previous: Chapter #22

Next: Chapter #24

Word Count: 8,904 Read Time: Approx. 60 mins

CW: adult language, extreme angst, dehumanization, infantilization, fearplay, injury, blood, surgery

Tag list: @gatlily @grbene @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien , @thegodmother007, @honey-olive, @bittykimmy13 ,@aceouttatime, @imvenusasaboy, @liminaldaze, @windshield-patent, @joxter-coded, @rosella35, @narrans, @rubeau-art, @littlescaryinternetguy, @jae-from-discord, @kitn-underfoot, @secretly-small, @writing-forever, @iinogongju, @tales-of-aestus

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

_____________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #21: Malpractices

[Natalie’s POV]

My leg bounced feverishly up and down as I sat up, board straight, teetering on the edge of the hard, plastic chair. It’d been 47…. No, make that 48 minutes since he’d been taken away. I couldn’t help but worry. Who could blame me? It was the first time since I’d found him that we’d been apart and I didn’t know he was somewhere safe and sound.

I pictured him making fun of me for stressing so much, like some overly protective mother hen. He had no problem standing up for himself, I knew that. But then, the image of his little face when he was plucked out of my hands came to mind: his clear, blue irises wide and glistening with fear. He was strong, devilishly smart and extraordinarily brave, but he was still so very, very small, and, as much as I knew he’d resent the accusation, he was, also, fragile. I pictured just how tiny his hand was, fingers spread as he squeezed the tip of my pinky, barely able to grip onto the whole of it. Alexander could hiss and spit all he wanted, but the tech that had taken him away could still pin him down with just one finger.

But it was fine, right? They can’t run and operate a business with neglect and not be called out for it, right?? Was he all worked up for nothing? Was I? I mean, I couldn’t blame the little man…. Being handed off to strangers who were twenty times bigger, a hundred times stronger and not likely to explain just what they were going to do to him, would terrify anyone. They were just running tests though, right? I imagined they’d need to take his vitals and possibly x-ray his knee to see how damaged it was.

But it wasn’t that, alone, that had made him tremble from head to toe and cling to the fabric of my shirt…. He seemed convinced that they might hurt him, mess up his treatment, kill him. He seemed keenly aware that it’d happened before, which utterly broke my heart.

For the past half hour, I’d furiously scrolled through every review site I could find, double and triple checking for any sign that something could be amiss. I found nothing. Just run-of-the-mill posts about treating a cat’s ear infection or resetting a parrot’s broken wing. Still, I couldn’t seem to drop this chilling sense of dread. It didn’t escape my notice that there was practically nothing in-depth about treating little people like Alexander in any of the reviews, just mostly animals. I chewed on the beds of my nails absentmindedly as I fought to stay calm.

My knee continued to bounce, the rubber heel of my shoe keeping time on the discolored linoleum tile. Why did I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach? It wasn’t just because the environment around me was cheap and dilapidated…. Was it because the doctor had been dismissive of him in his initial exams? The thing was, he was just right there, beyond that metal door. I could rush in there and pluck him up before they could call security. Maybe? I didn’t know. I had no idea what kind of labyrinth of hallways and doors and operating rooms laid beyond the metal threshold before me.

The thought of him being afraid or in pain in any way, was unbearable to me. What if he needed me and I wasn’t there? What if he was trembling head to toe like he had just a little less than an hour ago, whimpering in my cupped hand? What if he was scared and all alone, right now, and all I was doing was just sitting here… waiting…. Had I let him down? Had I put him in danger by trying to get him help?

Or was I just having some sort of savior complex because I felt this intense need to control the world around Alexander?

I knew I had the best of intentions, but still…. I felt this need to know exactly where and how he was at all times. I shuddered remembering when I’d plopped him down in a box and expected him to stay there all afternoon, or when I’d trapped him inside my bedside table drawer, all alone, because he’d hurt my feelings. Was this another instance of me being overly controlling? Was I underestimating him, even now? To me, he was such a breakable little thing, easily bruised by this world that was much too big for him.

The way he’d clung to my fingers, the fabric of my shirt…. I’d never seen him so vulnerable and afraid before. I’d never seen him look so small before. I jumped to my feet, my heart in my throat. He was just beyond that door. I took a few steps forward, watching with fixated curiosity as the wavy and warped reflection of my figure mocked me in the metal surface like some kind of twisted fun house mirror. What if I just checked on him? For a second? They wouldn’t kick us out for that would they? The tips of my fingers journeyed through the ever-shrinking gap between my body and the boundary separating him and me. In the next beat of my heart and bat of my eyelashes, the whorls of my fingertips pressed into cool metal. Just for a second. I just want to see his little eyes and know he’s okay.

Before I could apply any pressure, the door pushed back. I had no time to react before the doctor and a tech, the same girl in the purple scrubs that had carried him off, burst through the threshold. All three of us jumped, startled by what we unexpectedly found right in front of us.

The doctor had been the one to shove the door open, and now here we stood toe to toe. Had I noticed before how much taller he was than me? He was the first to wrestle his words into speech after the shock, “E-excuse me, Ms. Marquez, what do you think you’re doing?” We stood uncomfortably close, neither giving ground.

“Where is he?” My voice wavered in such a way that exposed how nervous I really was. I clenched my jaw, trying to pull it together.

“There’s nothing to worry about ma’am…. Please, have a seat…” The words, meant to be reassuring, came from a voice I hadn’t heard very much before: crisp, coaxing, female. On my left, the vet tech was halfway through the door which she propped open with an elbow. I searched her bare hands, feverishly, for a shock of blonde bangs and blue eyes. They were empty. I panicked.

“Wait… w-where is he? Why’s he still back there? Is he okay? Is he all alone? Is he scared? I need to know he’s okay—“

“Of course! Of course, you’re concerned. Don’t worry, he’s perfectly safe and comfortable. If you’ll just take a seat, Doctor Greene will be more than happy to answer any questions you might have….” Her smile was blindingly bright, her eyes shimmering and earnest. The doctor nodded along with her as she spoke, raising his brows expectantly in my direction, when she was finished. I froze. Was I being a complete idiot right now? Was Alexander perfectly okay and I was looking insane for wringing my hands over him? But then why wasn’t he back in my arms safe and sound? What did they need to tell me? I just wanted to see him. Before I could process, those disappointingly empty hands with their chipped, dark polish, were lightly resting on my shoulders, guiding me away from the door and back where I began, seating me in that hard plastic chair.

I stammered, “W-what’s wrong with him? Why won’t you bring him out here? All he needed was medicine for the infection, right?” As I hurled my volley of questions, the doctor, who I just now noticed had a file tucked under his arm and no longer sported his white coat, sat down and wheeled over to the examination counter, placing the file flat on its surface and resting his elbows so that his poised hands came to rest below his chin. As he did this, the tech settled in the back corner of the room, leaning against a cabinet in the corner halfway in front of the door that lead to Alexander. My pulse pounded away in my skull, that tan folder with its unknown contents burned a hole in my periphery as I stared into the veterinarian’s bespectacled eyes.

He cleared his throat as I gripped the rough underside edge of my seat, “First off, I want to apologize for the lengthier than usual wait time on our initial examinations. It’s nothing at all to worry about. I promise, your companion is in very attentive and focused hands, here. Isn’t that right, Nina?” The tech nodded in agreement, smiling again. Why did his tone shift ever so slightly when he included her in the narrative? “Now, to the matter at hand. Unfortunately, the damage is, well, worse than we thought…” my stomach dropped at those words. As he continued, he reached for the file between us, “If we take a look at these… Nina, if you will?”

He flipped the file open to reveal a paper splotched with deep, inky blacks and ghostly, silvery whites. I couldn’t tell what I was looking at. Nina stepped forward at his command, clutching the paper, she turned from me and flipped on the light box mounted on the wall to my left.

She spoke as she worked, “Your little friend is awfully cute. I can tell he’s a little spitfire, though, too! But, hey, don’t worry, he just needed some gentle coaxing and he was the perfect little patient!” Why did my hackles raise at that? I had a hard time believing her. It wasn’t easy to get Alexander to do anything he didn’t want to. Was he really just scared enough to be docile for once in his life? That didn’t seem like the fiery little man I knew at all.

Before I could follow up with more questions, the room was cast into darkness, as she flipped off the lights and clipped up the paper on the illuminated display. Suddenly, the smoky shapes came in to clear focus in the backlight. It was an X-ray. It was his x-ray. I was looking at Alexander’s skeleton. My blood pumped faster in my veins, as my brow furrowed and I felt a tightness in the back of my throat. I couldn’t help but clamor to my feet to get a closer look. Because he was so small, he fit head to toe inside the image, the only part of him that was cut off was his left shoulder and leg on the right side of the display. That was him, his tiny little skeleton, blown up larger than life on a pitch black background. This image of him was at least four of five times larger than the real thing. Even then, how fragile those little bones looked! None of them were thicker than two fingers pressed together. My eyes went immediately to his right knee joint. I was no medical professional, but I didn’t need to be to see the sharp, black line that cut across his bone just above the knee. A complete break, not just a fracture. The blurry white mess that was his actual knee seemed to show how damaged it was. Poor little Alexander had been hobbling around on a broken leg?

With a grunt, the doctor rose from his seat and shuffled over to the display, “As you can see, the joint is severely damaged and there appears to be a significant break on the very base of the femur. Have you been allowing him to exercise? Put any unnecessary strain on it?”

“N-no. Not that I know of. I’ve been trying really hard to keep him still and off his feet as much as possible…” But it was anyone’s guess what he’d endured before I found him. He wouldn’t tell me anything.

“It appears the damage has been exacerbated by too much weight on the wound… wear and tear from strenuous over-use…” for some reason, he darted a glance at the black-haired tech, before clearing his throat, “In any case…. Nina, turn on the light, if you want it to heal right, he’ll need surgery to reset the bone and to flush out the infection, which has spread to a critical extent…” the room was flooded with blinding fluorescent light, once more, making me wince as my eyes fought to adjust and I struggled to understand him.

My world stopped as what he was saying finally hit me like a ton of bricks. I managed to stutter out just one word, “S-surgery??” I parroted it back like an idiot. The thought of his tiny little body being operated on by their comparatively massive hands sent shivers down my spine.

“Yes.” His response was simple and blunt, I stood, rooted to the spot, in shock, “Please sit.” As he beckoned for me to be seated he fetched the X-ray from its no longer illuminated display box and sat down, pulling a sharpie pen from the breast pocket of his scrubs, “So, we’d make an incision here, just above the break—“ he began marking the ghostly image of Alexander’s leg with the pitch black ink. I interrupted.

“W-wait, wait, wait. Surgery? Are you sure there’s no alternatives? He can’t just, like, I don’t know, have a stint or something?”

The doctor’s exhale sounded almost amused as he removed his glasses to polish them on the bottom hem of his scrubs. “My understanding is you have no insurance. Is that correct?”

“…. Well, y-yes….”

“I want to be completely honest with you. The fact of the matter is, this particular procedure will be costly without insurance. And, not only that, performing these kinds of operations on such small animals carries with it a significant risk—“

“—He’s not an animal…He’s a person, just like you or me… he’s just littler, that’s all….”

“O-of course! Of course he is! He seems very smart, too!” Nina was smiling brilliantly again. I clenched my teeth. I was beginning to dislike her.

“It is my professional opinion that an operation will be necessary to save Alexander’s life. Now, I understand you may be hesitant, due to the upfront cost–”

I snapped back, a newfound edge in my voice, “I don’t give a fuck what it costs, I just want him to be okay. Is that a clear enough answer for you? And, anyway, he should have some say in this. It’s his body, after all. Have you told him yet? Bring him here, and I’ll make a decision with him.”

Another exchange of charged glances, and then a blunt response from the doctor, “Unfortunately we can’t do that.”

My heart was pounding faster and the room suddenly felt hot, I scowled and spoke through clenched teeth, on the razor’s edge of holding it together, “What do you mean you can’t??? You most certainly can. I have a right to see him. If he’s fine, like you say, then there’s no reason why you can’t let me talk with him, right now.”

The doctor leaned away from me, rolling his chair a bit further back, almost as if in a protective stance between myself and the door that continued to bar my way, “To clarify, what I mean is that would be a very bad idea. You see, in our experience, reintroducing the patient to…. The human they’re most familiar with after they’ve been properly acclimated and relaxed, will only serve to significantly agitate and generate an undue amount of stress for the patient right before major surgery. It is best to keep them calm and in one location prior to operating. You wouldn’t want to frighten him, would you?”

“Well, no, of course not, but—“

“—and, as for his consent to the operation, we, of course, agree with you wholeheartedly, that your companion should have a voice, however, we, unfortunately, live in a world where only your signature is binding.” By the time he finished his speech, he’d rolled back to the edge of the counter opposite me.

I swallowed, my nervous system awash with adrenaline, my mind abuzz with fear and frustration. I just wanted to see him, to know he was okay, to hold him and never let him go again, “You say he’s just waiting back there? He’s not in pain? He hasn’t asked for me?”

The vet tech replied, her intended reassurance somehow unsettling to me, “Believe me, we made sure he was as relaxed as possible before we came in here to talk to you. He’s in no pain, whatsoever.”

“A-and there’s no alternative to keep him from having to go under?”

“Unfortunately, no.” It was her boss’s turn to reply. All I could think about was the look on Alexander’s face when he begged me not to let them put him to sleep. My chest tightened, the doctor carried on, “The infection is getting worse by the minute. It’s highly possible, if not probable, that if left untreated, it will develop into sepsis, which can lead to organ failure. In addition, he likely won’t walk again if the leg doesn’t have the chance to heal properly. He’s stable at the moment, but he needs to be treated now to prevent further complications…” I blinked hard, trying to settle the fire alarm fire blazing in the back of my skull. I gaped, like a fish, my eyes darting from my own hands, clasped tightly together, and back up to the doctor.

“I-I just want him to come out of this okay…” As I stammered, the tech fished for and offered me a document, flipping it open to a signature line, while the doctor offered me a hefty ballpoint pen from his front pocket.

“Then all you have to do is sign and date right here and we’ll get your little guy all patched up!” A painted nail tapped along the dotted line. I stared hard at the black blocks of text on white printer paper, but couldn’t make sense of any of them.

It didn’t seem like I had any choice. He could die if something wasn’t done, and fast. My heart was thundering in my chest. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything I could to help him. He was a fighter, he’d fight through this too. The least I could do was give him a chance. Then, when it was all done, I’d do everything I could to help him get back to normal as soon as I could hold him in my arms again. The sound of an impatient cough broke me from my train of thought.

“So? How would you like to proceed?”

I bit my lip, my head on fire. I reached for the pen, unable to think about anything other than those two frightened little eyes, “You promise me you’ll take good care of him? That you’ll be gentle? He-he means a lot to me. I don’t— I don’t know what I’d do if anything….” I choked on the words as my eyes welled. I cleared my throat to hold it down. “I’m not going anywhere until I’m holding him again and I know he’s safe and sound.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. Like we said, we think he’s just precious. It’s always such an honor to take care of other people’s companions. He’ll be back to normal in no time.” That blinding smile. Paper pushed forward. The pen, slippery between my clammy fingers. I swallowed, hands trembling, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

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

I was floating, weightless, not quite alive, not quite dead. I felt nothing, I had no sense of my body, where I was in space, or time, for that matter. I was asleep, but dreaming in vivid color of nothing put velvety blackness stretching on for eternity. Who and what was I? I didn’t have the faintest idea.

Then, as if honing in on some distant frequency, like sudden static from an alien satellite transmission, I heard a babbling of noises, coupled with a repetitive sound, like a beeping, that cycled at seemingly regular intervals.

They were incomprehensible at first, these sounds, just irritants, loud and untranslatable. But slowly, slowly, this floating, weightless, thing that was and wasn’t me, whoever that was, began to stitch the sounds together into… words.

Floating above my consciousness like some ethereal notes in some unknown symphony, I found descriptors for these sounds, or, I think they were called, voices? One sounded female, the other male. I couldn’t, at that moment, remember what those descriptors implied, but I, somehow, knew they were apt. As I floated along in darkness, those words began to form snatches of sentences.

The male was first, “Wait, wait, you actually said that?”

Then the female, “Fuck yeah, I did. I was like, ‘Lady, your little dude literally could not be more relaxed’ and she was just all, ‘Oh, o-okay’. Like, I won’t lie, for a minute there I thought we were gonna have to call security, but she totally ate it up after a while…”

“No shit?”

“That’s the thing, Greene pegged her for one of those overly-concerned types. So, it wasn’t hard to build up the drama of it all. These little guys are, like, cash cows if we put them under the knife…”

“Really? Why? Cuz they’re basically the same as people?”

“Yeah. Dude, look I know you’re new and everything but did you not pay attention at all in school? You have to take a whole extra semester of classes just to be qualified to operate on ‘em. And, yeah, he’s still sorta in hot water from the shit that went down a few months ago, but, like, it’s not like Miss Worry Wart and her pissed off little chihuahua here, will ever know about it. I think Greene’s smart to go after the money. Anyway, he showed her how bad the break was and pushed her to go for it. Don’t tell Greene this, but I think the full break in his femur might be our fault. We might’ve been a little too rough– Don’t say a fucking word, Jason, you toyed with him just as much as I did…”

More sounds accompanied my non-existence as I heard things I think I remember calling footsteps and the scraping of chair legs on a linoleum floor, a new gruff voice, male. Barking, commanding. All the while that same beeping sound, keeping rhythm like a… metronome? Was that the proper term?

I heard words like scalpel, incision, stable, antibiotic. I had a sense I was once familiar with them.

However, as the unknown length of time pressed on, my endless floating began to change. Numbness no longer permeated all around. I slowly began to sense that I was…. Lying down? That I was…. Cold? Very, very cold. Or was I hot? That rhythmic sound changed its beat, getting faster. I heard, “vitals shifting” from… one of those voices? Or all three? I knew, now, I had a body, even if I couldn’t feel it. Well, not all of it.

As though waking from a dream, second by second, feeling returned. Like a kettle slowly rising to a feverish, shrieking boil, I too, began to feel a tingling, which turned into a hazy ache, that cascaded into a burning, a searing, an excruciating wildfire of pain exploding from my leg. The background rhythm was beeping like crazy now, inconsistent and frightening. The part of me I remembered as a chest was heaving up and down.

Above all that, came loud, thundering, angry voices, like gods threatening to rent the sky in two with their rage.

The gruff, male voice was accusatory, “How much, Nina? How much did you administer?”

A female voice, high, defensive, “W-well, I didn’t wanna over do it! Look at him, he’s tiny!”

A third, panicked, “His heart rate is spiking, he’s destabilizing… h-he’s coming to!”

“Nina, you have to tell me what you gave him or I’ll end up killing the little bastard. How much?”

“Shit! I gave him 0.2 milliliters, okay??”

The panicked male rejoined, “I told her that wasn’t enough, sir! I said—“

“Oh shut up, why don’t you? I can’t trust either of you. It’s a simple fucking task… and you two still fuck it up—“

Like being suddenly and forcefully pulled from the quiet, rocking depths of the ocean to flounder helplessly on the deck of a boat, gasping for air and waiting for death, all medicinal haze was ripped away and I was fully aware, fully awake and fully alive to the absolute horror that was my situation.

The sounds of my own screaming seemed separate from me, as I sat up, flailing, bloodshot eyes wide and twitching. I heard the voices of the creatures so much bigger than me up above.

“Jesus fucking Christ, restrain him before he fucks this up!”

In one panicked, fear filled heart beat, I took it all in: blinding, painful overhead light, blue, monstrous tendrils, encased in latex, like some kraken with twenty powerful appendages instead of just eight, surrounded me. The human fingers were all so huge and overwhelming. There was something shoved down my throat, slick, clear, it snaked off to an unknown destination, on my chest, something adhesive, thick, stiff, with wires protruding from it, an electrode for an electrocardiograph, but seemingly for a much larger life-form than myself. Without hesitation, I pulled on the tube, but was barely able to wrap a fist around it before..

“Oh no you don’t, stay still!” Those disembodied fingers wrested it away from me and pinned me back down against the metal surface below. I didn’t want them to touch me, I had to get free. Snarling and screaming, I writhed and kicked, but that quickly came to an end when my entire body was suddenly wracked with a sharp, biting, fresh sensation: the most excruciating pain I’d ever felt in my life.

“Shit.”

Through the tears welling in my eyes, I hazarded a glance down at my leg. What I saw there made me nearly pass out.

Blood was spewing, thick, red, hot, horrendous. My knee was all red, open flesh, slick and horrific. The source of this brand new pain? Still pinched between his fingers, the blade of the scalpel, massive, razor sharp, was buried in the flesh of my knee. I was screaming and wailing, trembling from head to foot.

Meanwhile, the man wielding the instrument of death above my head, simply scowled as though he’d found a bruise on his apple or a fly in his drink. He grimaced at his surgical tool in my leg like it was some mildly frustrating inconvenience that was interrupting his work. Planting a finger on my ankle and a thumb on my thigh, he pinched the handle of the blade and ripped it from my leg. My ears rang as my vision faded momentarily.

He replaced the bite of the scalpel with pressure from a thumb pressing a strip of gauze to staunch the bleeding, over his shoulder, he regarded his inferior, “Well, at least this one isn’t dead because of your little mishap. Where’s Lindsey? She’s the only person here I can trust to do anything right the first time.”

“Y-you put her on laundry…. Sir….”

“Go get her.” The young man stared at his boss, with a dumbfounded expression, “That means now, Jason! Goddammit, I’m surrounded by idiots! As for you, Nina. This is the last straw. Pull this shit again and you’re fired. I’ve already got the AHA crawling up my ass about the last case. Go home, I don’t want to see you till Monday.”

“-But… I was just having fun with the little guy, I didn’t mean—“

“Monday. 6 am. Got it?”

“You know this little fucker bit me? Maybe we shouldn’t waste all our time and effort and just put him down for aggressive behavior!”

“Nina, go home!” And with a dissatisfied sigh, she was gone from my field of vision. He spoke, but not to me, “I’m getting way too old for this shit…” I felt eyes trained on me for a split second, before the sound of a door squealing open, caused us both to turn our heads in its direction.

Lindsey practically ran in, Jason, seemingly with no sense of urgency whatsoever, following behind.

Breathless, the kind woman rushed over to where I lay. The man pressing his thumb into my open flesh, bellowed at her, “Lindsey, finally! I’ve staunched the bleeding. Clean up this godforsaken mess, intubate him, suture the site of incision, blah, blah. You know what you’re doing. I need a fucking cigarette… or ten. Come get me when it’s time for client delivery. Ah, and Jason…. You’ve proven today to be utterly useless, too. Go home and get out of my hair before you make my migraine any worse.”

The grumbling voices and movements of the men faded from my notice as the young woman with bright, hazel eyes stared down at me with true compassion. I was a pathetic mess, face streaked with tear stains, the plastic tubing thrust down my throat, half naked and trembling as my knee lay cut open and thoroughly rent.

“You poor, poor little thing. What’d they do to you? Are you in pain?” I nodded furiously, tears threatening to fall again. My breathing was ragged. Every muscle in my body ached. I didn’t have the energy to make noise anymore, let alone put up a fight.

“Of course you are. Okay, well I promise you I will help you. I’ll do everything I can to help. It’s Alexander, right? I’m Lindsey. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this, Alexander. Look at me, hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. You’ll be back home in no time. But first, I need your help, alright? Will you help me? I need to close up this wound here, so you can start to heal. But, that’s going to be extremely painful if you’re awake. Do I have your permission to put you to sleep so you won’t feel anything?” I jumped, snarling and shaking my head, “I promise, I know how to do it correctly. You won’t wake up in the middle of it, this time. Look, here, I’ll show you exactly what I’m gonna do. You see your knee, how it’s still all cut open and exposed? I’m going to stitch that all back together, with one line down the middle and a horizontal line above your knee. You’ll have a “T” shaped scar once it heals. All the infection is cleared out and, hopefully you’ll regain full use of that joint after the bone in your leg fuses back. But I don’t know for sure, now that you got an abrasion from a scalpel on top of everything else. Hey, don’t squirm… try to lie still… I know you don’t know me, but I need you to trust me, okay? I wanna see you reunited with… What’s your friend’s name? Is it… Natalie?” I nodded, noticing how my heart fluttered and the machine with its beeping gave away the increase in my heartrate, “I wanna see you reunited with Natalie as soon as possible. You want that, too, don’t you?” I nodded, gritting my teeth through the constant pain, “I’ll make you another promise in return, okay? I won’t leave your side and I won’t let anyone else lay a finger on you until you’re back in Natalie’s hands. Do we have a deal?” I nodded sheepishly. Feeling utterly spent, but still completely terrified, I laid back down, flat on my back, and began counting backwards from one hundred to calm myself.

“Okay, Alexander, I’m turning on the anesthesia now. All you have to do is take a deep breath, in through your mouth and out, through your nose… Good, perfect. That’s perfect. You’re going to be okay, Alexander. Natalie’s waiting for you. It’s time to sleep, now… jussstttt relaaaaaxxxxxxx…” My eyelids felt extraordinarily heavy as her voice melted and faded. Then, within another cycle of breath, I was fast asleep.

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

I’d long since chewed my cuticles to bits until I drew blood. I’d paced every square inch of this hellish little room that was starting to feel more like a cage than a waiting area. I’d driven the secretary crazy asking time and time again if they’d be done soon. Her flat, insincere, “Any moment, I’m sure” made my blood boil. I was about to tear my hair out at the roots when the squeal of the door made me leap to my feet and fly across the linoleum tiles.The woman who entered the room was a stranger to me. She came in pushing the door with her shoulder, her back to me, initially. As she turned around, I saw why she’d come in that way. Her hands were otherwise full with a tiny little body.

He was cradled very gently in her cupped hands, completely unconscious. He lay there, peacefully, his knee wrapped thickly in a massive bandage of white gauze. I reached out for him immediately, “Let me! I have to hold him. Is he okay?” Wordlessly, she very carefully slid his limp little form from her hands to mine. I cupped both palms, trembling just to feel his skin on mine again. The second his tiny weight landed in my grasp, my eyes welled with tears.

He lay there, completely disheveled, his lips parted, his hair sticking up all over the place, his skin looked pallid and shiny from sweat. I cradled his little head on the pad of my pinky finger. The same one he’d squeezed before being carted off. The rest of him nestled safely in the hammock of my two palms pressed together, his heels resting just over the edges of my hands, balancing atop my wrists. I was so grateful just to hold him again, I leaned in and whispered, “Alexander. You’re okay. You’re coming home… I was so worried about you…” I rubbed his hair from his eyes, caressed his little cheek, traced his chin, rubbed his pecs and relished in the pounding of his tiny heart, all with the tip of my thumb.

I had forgotten for a moment that he and I were not the only ones in the room. I glanced up to notice the new vet tech standing politely, staring at the little man in my hands with an expression that mirrored my own. I cleared my throat, hurling a barrage of questions at her, “So? How is he? How’d he do? Is he going to heal successfully?”

She seemed to hesitate at these questions. My pulse quickened as I watched her cast her eyes down, before meeting my gaze. I furrowed my brow, she cleared her throat, “… He, he was… incredibly brave. The good news is he should be free of infection and after a round of antibiotics, he will be back to normal. Um… However, the surgery involved… well, a little more trauma than expected…”

“W-what? What does that mean?”

She was hushed to silence as Doctor Greene chose this incredibly inopportune time to make his appearance. The second he walked in the door the smell of cigarettes wafted in with him. Did the tech’s shoulders seem to slump a bit when he entered the room? “I see you’ve already gotten acquainted with Lindsey…” he then whipped around to her and mumbled under his breath, “I thought you were going to tell me when you were ready to return him…” She didn’t say a word as he turned to me, his voice back to being chipper and light, “…And your little friend is back where he belongs. Wonderful. Now, as you can see, everything went just fine. He’s still under the influence of anesthesia at the moment, and it will likely take him several hours before he’s fully alert and awake again. Now I will tell you, when he does come to, it is highly possible that he will be disoriented and confused. He may not know himself or you at first. He may ramble on about half truths and hallucinations from his experience with us. This often happens. Their little brains get flooded and they become highly overwhelmed. They often exaggerate the details. Don’t worry if he acts a little skittish, or upset by the ordeal, they almost all do. We do everything we can to keep them calm, but it can still be frightening simply because they don’t understand. Just lay him in some dark, isolated place and he’ll quiet down soon enough.” I wasn’t going to put him in solitary confinement after one of the most traumatizing experiences of his life! He’d be right by my side until he made a full recovery. That was non-negotiable.

I stared at his sleeping form in my hands. Alexander, his head was no bigger than the tip of my pointer finger. His hair stuck to his forehead in a sticky, sweaty mess, his little chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. I carefully slid him into one cupped palm, gently taking up his tiny left hand on the tip of my, now free, finger. Even in his unconscious state, his body fully limp, the weight of his hand, his arm, felt like nothing.

Alexander, were they good to you? Are you going to be okay? What did she mean there was more trauma? I wish you’d open your little eyes and talk to me. I want to hear it from you, no one else. He, of course, stayed motionless. The doctor continued on, “I’ve filed a prescription for a round of antibiotics, as well as pain medication, those will stave off infection and help with recovery. Now, the bandages will have to be changed at regular intervals, and please don’t forget to wrap the sutures in plastic wrap before dipping him in water, otherwise you’ll be right back where you started. Keep the area as dry as possible and, of course, keep him from bearing any weight on it for the first four weeks. Speaking of…”

He began to fish in his pocket. I continued to stare at the sleeping little life taking refuge in my hands, my heart skipping a beat when his tiny hand flexed and squeezed my finger. I looked up long enough to see the vet reveal, in the flat of his palm, something sealed in a little plastic bag printed with labels that obscured what was inside, “Now, he, almost guaranteed, won’t need that walking aide long term, but just in case, or at least for those first few weeks, after the initial month off, he’ll have it. You can give it to some dollhouse enthusiast afterwards.” I reached for the tiny aluminum cane, approximately three inches long, and pocketed it, before caressing his bright, golden hair, “And, if you think he’ll try to mess with his bandages too much, these are highly effective at dissuading them…” He’d fished around in a drawer before offering something else in his outstretched hand. This time, it was a tiny little surgical cone. I set my jaw. Absolutely fucking not. He’d kill me if I put that on him. My disapproving sneer was enough to express my opinion on the matter, “Alright, then. Just a suggestion…. I have one more form that I’ll need from you for our exit paperwork and otherwise, Trisha should settle payment at the front desk.”

“You know he’s gonna tell me if you did something….” I tore my eyes away long enough to burn holes into his bespectacled ones.

He raised his brows, smirking a bit in surprise, “Of course, miss. But, like I said, they come up with all kinds of fanciful tales when under the influence of medication. He’ll likely be quite disoriented and confused.”

“You have no clue who you’re messing with, do you? If you so much as bent a hair out of place, I promise you, you’re going to regret it. He won’t hesitate to come after you.”

A stifled chuckle and the clearing of a throat on his part told me what he thought about that. The tech just stared at the floor, clearly unamused.

I raised a brow, challenging him, “Just wait and see what happens….” It was enough to make the veterinarian and his tech exchange a worried glance. Satisfied, I left that godforsaken room and checked out. It was a blur of curt interactions. I tried not to balk when the total was read aloud. I just wanted to get him home and away from this place.

The drive home was drizzly, cold. It’d gone from morning to dusk since I’d first arrived, to now, as the hospital finally faded from my rearview mirror. As I drove, I cradled him with one hand against my pounding heart, caressing his head and chest with a thumb.

Returning home, finally, after picking up his medications, I collapsed on the bed, unwilling to let him out of my sight for more than the length of a single heartbeat. “You’re gonna be okay, Alexander. You’ll heal up, good as new. I’m right here with you, I’m not going anywhere, never again.” I stroked his head, his cheek, his chest. When I laid the length of my finger down on top of his body, he, as if from instinct, wrapped his tiny arms around it, just like he had the day I’d watched him sleep in my nightstand drawer.

I couldn’t help myself, my throat got tight again. Poor Alexander. He was such a fighter, a survivor, but at the end of the day he just needed a little bit of tenderness and love, like everyone else. I burst into tears, “You’re so sweet under all of it. You’re such a sweetheart. So small…. Look at you, look at how little you are. I can feel your tiny heart pounding away. What’re you dreaming about? Do you know you’re safe? Do you know you’re with me?”

His brow twitched and I held my breath, hoping to watch him stir awake. But no, his little arms went limp again, one sliding off of my finger and landing, limply, by his side. I pinched his other wrist between the pads of my fingers and kissed the inside of his palm with careful lips, “You’re so brave. You’re so incredibly brave. Do you know that? I’m in awe of you. You’re so much stronger than I could ever be…And…I’m so sorry.” My chest hurt as my throat clamped down, the tears cascading down the planes of my face, “I’m sorry if you’re hurting. I never meant to hurt you. You have to know that. I wanted to help. I just wanted to help you get better. Please, please wake up. Alexander? C’mon, open your eyes. Please tell me you’re okay. Tell me that bad feeling I had was just a feeling and nothing more. Did I fuck up? Were you scared? Alone? Did you need me to come rescue you? If they hurt you, I’ll help you kill them and hide the bodies. I swear. I’ll help you make them pay. You deserve so much better than this, Little Nightmare. Let me help make it better. In whatever way I can. Please. Just wake up….”

I took his tiny hand and splayed it out on the tip of my finger. It was his left hand, his writing hand. Tiny little veins protruded from the back of it and along his forearm. His fingernails were hard to even see, slightly purple against the rest of his skin. The fingers were lithe, slender. He had ‘perfect piano playing hands’ as my mother had always called them. I adored this little hand. I rubbed the back of it, with an ever so delicate brush of my right thumb. You’re going to do great things with these hands. I know you will.

Almost as if on cue, he started to stir and twitch. My heart leapt to my throat, as I watched wide-eyed and breathless. I laid his little hand back down over his chest. I wasn’t sure if he’d be blitzed out from the drugs and think I was trying to grab him. His brow furrowed deeply as he tossed his head to the side. His whole body shivered and his little hands twitched and then relaxed. My heart was thundering away. Then, in a sudden rush, he opened his brilliant little eyes with a gasp, and stared up, directly at me. Good morning, Little Nightmare.

“Hello. How are you feeling? Does anything hurt? Are you okay?” I spoke just above a whisper, trying to be as soft and comforting as I could. His brow furrowed as he listened to the timbres of my voice. He looked confused, his eyelids seeming far too heavy for him to keep open. He didn’t say a word, just blinked lazily, his little mouth slightly open, “Alexander? Talk to me. How do you feel?”

His eyes batted in rapid succession, he sucked in air, as if shocked, “You know my name???” Did he not even recognize me? Was he still disoriented like the doctor had mentioned?

“Alexander? Of course I know your name…. Do you know mine? Do you know who—“

He scoffed, blowing air through his lips, interrupting me. He did this far too loudly and for far too long, even after I’d gone silent. As he laid back in my hand, every muscle relaxed, his cheeks flushed, his jaw slack and his speech lazy as though speaking through a mouthful of cotton, that little know-it-all brain of his still managed to shine through, “Of course I know who you are! Easy…” he paused for a full five seconds, searching for the next word, “…peasy…” Oh my fucking god, this tiny man is still high off his fucking ass!

He blinked, once, twice, three times, as he lifted himself up on an elbow. But he was barely able to do that before he came crashing back down with a little grunt, his head lolling a bit. I tried to stifle my laughter, reminding him to be careful. “No, nnno! D-don’t, don’t you laugh at me!”

“I’m not! I’m not laughing at you, Alexander, I promise!” I protested, literally fighting to keep my composure as I spoke.

His brow furrowed as he huffed, all the while pointing his little finger up at me, jabbing the air like a professional swordsman, “You are! You think I don’t know! B-but I’m nnot stupid! I know! I know exactly who you are! Ex-ac-tly!” He punctuated each syllable while his head lolled about and he blinked sleepily, “So don’t… don’t act like I don’t know! I do! I’d recognize you anywhere!!” Okay, little man, we get it. You’re right, I’m wrong, what’s new? Even high you’re always ready to pick a fight with me.

I’d gone from weeping over his limp little body, to biting back tears of laughter. He was entirely in his own little world right now. I couldn’t believe I was watching the same super serious, uptight, angry little bastard I’d come to know and love now rambling nonsense in his post-surgery daze. I tipped my chin, having way too much fun, “Oh yeah? Who am I, then, smarty pants? What’s my name??”

“You…. You are unmistakably– Mmmm, the air tastes funny…”

“Alexander!”

“Hmm??” His eyes were halfway to closing as he mumbled. Poor thing. He’d been through so much. I should let it go.

“Never mind, forget it… you should rest—“

Then, with a sudden burst of energy that made me jump, he stared me straight in the eye and pointed up at me, “Arwen Undómiel!! Th-that’s… that’s your name…” He was grinning from ear to ear, absolutely delighted with himself for cracking the case.

“I’m sorry… what?!” He thought I was a Tolkien elf. And he’d said it in perfect elvish, no less. The smartest man I’d ever met genuinely believed I was a fictional elf. Oh god, I hope he remembers this, so I can tease him about it later. I couldn’t help myself: I burst into laughter.

#Just hold him and don't let him go #Just wait till he fully comes to #Poor Alexander #a fraction of justice #oc:alexander #oc:natalie #g/t writing #g/t community #giant/tiny community #g/t angst #Giant/tiny #g/t

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mochidreambubble · 11 months

Text

From Golden Grove, Love Sunset Bird

[ongoing fic]

Ao3 link

Chapters on Tumblr ~ 1 2 3 4 (you're here!)

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{Baxter doesn't know it yet, but when he's back from his dance circuit, he owes you the biggest milkshake.}

[I left a long note on the previous chapter so it may be worth looking through that if you'd like to know about how this fic may be going on forward?

Also chapter title will say step ‘1.2’ because this happens the next year after Step 1. A short interlude of a chapter if anything. Chapter title makes sense in context, I promise.]

Out of all the seasons, you can say for sure you like summer the least . No amount of pictures or pretty postcards of Sunset Bird in this season would deter you from that.

It was your first summer in your new home though, so that was something. Summer, when you lived in the city meant trips to the pool sometimes, and small carnivals set up in the parks. You mainly got dropped off at the library or at dozens of art or drama week-long day camps before Mama had to make a mad dash to work.

At least things were going to be pretty different this summer. You even had a camping trip with the Murrays coming up soon! A little weird to be spending summer break with a teacher, as both Tamarack and even Qiu would remind you, but it was going to be so much fun! You had your school activities too, but you were mainly looking forward to all the sleepovers and adventures your two friends promised to do.

Well, it wasn’t really gonna be different from what you three usually did, but summer break just made it extra special. You knew that all three of you would still prefer the season that came after, but it's not like it could be autumn all year round after all.

As you think of the two of them, the fact that they weren’t with you made itself known even harder. Qiu had promised to hang with Darren and Tamarack had left a note for you that she was helping out Granny today. Mama still had work to do, and with no activities on your list, you decided it was time to get some new postcards and stationery. Maybe some stickers too! Anything to distract that you were by yourself today…

You liked the cosy post office of Golden Grove, and you’ve been there enough times since you moved in that the people working there knew your name. They even knew you were sending letters to your pen pal!

You were skipping to your destination when you spotted Mr B.A.W, looking at a window display of the bookstore. You can’t say for sure if Baxter liked you. He was always really nice, and he was never mean to you or Tamarack, but it felt different from how he treated the original members of the Boys Club.

Baxter recently dyed his hair, the dark grey now unmistakable to be black. He was still dressed in muted tones, just like the first day you’ve met him. You haven’t seen him in anything as eye-catching - blue beanie aside.

He didn’t seem to notice as you walked closer, so you stand on the tippy toes and whispered “Hey Baxter, watcha doin’?”

If you caught him by surprise, you couldn’t tell. He simply smiled and turned to you. “Simply browsing the new books that came in. Hello to you too.”

You on the other hand, liked him quite a bit. You both had the same two favourite colours and Baxter always had the best taste in books. He had recommended quite a list when you asked and enjoyed them thoroughly.

You bounce back and forth from your toes to the back of your foot, swinging as you look at the window display too. “I’m surprised you aren’t hanging out with Autumn and Darren today.”

Baxter gives a small snort and sighs. “I’m afraid biking with the two of them right now would not be the best of ideas, considering the dance circuit is around the corner.”

Oh right, Autumn had mentioned something about that too, that Baxter was going to be away for a little while. “Right, around California and some other places nearby, right? Make sure to bring back snacks for us.”

“If I can manage,” he simply shrugs.

“You don’t sound very excited.”

“Do I? Hm, it’s simply another round of contests, so it’s not as if I’m travelling to play.”

“Boo,” you stick your tongue out at him. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Baxter? C’mon, think about it for a bit! Dancing out of town, new places to be!”

You clasp your hands in a sudden thought. “Oh, oh!” You felt like glitter and starlight as you pictured it. “What if you, like a mysterious stranger, sweep someone off their feet and you start some type of fairy tale?”

He raises a brow, one side of his mouth upturned. “I had forgotten for a moment that you’re quite fond of such romantic ideals.”

“I’m serious Baxter! You fit the look of a prince, you know?”

He snorts again. “Mm, I suppose I do have the family fortune for it.”

“Not only that silly! You dance, you’re charming. Whose to say you won’t be someone’s Prince Charming, hm?”

A car honks catches both of your attention before he could respond. It was one of the Ward’s family car. Baxter looks back at you apologetically.

“It may not be midnight, but it seems my pumpkin calls, fair friend,” he gives you a bow and you laugh, returning it in kind. “See you when I get back.”

He turns to enter the car as you call out. “You owe me a milkshake or something if I’m right! You’re totally gonna meet someone!”

Your Mama wasn’t back yet, so you went up to your room to unceremoniously dump your shopping bag into your bed. You’re half tempted to call your Mermaid pal, but you weren’t sure if they’d be home. Their summer always seemed to be filled with activity, more so since Cove arrived.

Calling them up seemed to be a more common thing between the two of you these days, but that didn’t mean you stopped sending them things. There was just something different about a letter, postcard or package. It was nice when you got to hear their voice for the first time, and Cove was there too!

Last time you managed to check in with your Sunset Birdies, they had just returned from a short road trip. Apparently, some silly loft-sharing shenanigans and pretty nature walks were in the mix. You were promised pictures of trees from said walk.

“Mine won’t look at good as yours but you asked for them, so no complaining!” Your Mermaid friend had always insisted the pictures from you were always nicer somehow.

Said letter had yet to arrive, sadly. Your own letter was sitting on your desk, still blank. Not much had happened on your break, mostly the same ol` same ol`. It’s funny you can say that when it hadn’t even been a full year in Golden Grove, but Tamarack and Qiu had managed to make a stable rhythm in most of your day-to-day.

You ponder for a moment, wondering if you should write about your short encounter with Baxter. You’ve never really mentioned him to your pen pal at all. You’ve written about Darren a few times though. With a shake, you decide against it. It be kind of out of the blue to start talking about your elusive kind-of a friend. Pity, as Baxter would be in California for a short bit too. You’re not sure when would your letter arrive anyway, and you don’t know when and where exactly Baxter would be during the dance circuit.

You think it be kind of funny if the two of them met by chance though. But what even were the chances of that happening anyways?

[last note from me: sweats in: look this was gonna be a Cove/OL1MC fic but since the last time I wrote this fic at all like… Uh…. A lot of Baxter related stuff happen and uhhHHHHH so Maybe it will also Baxter/OL1MC fic also. IDK, I haven’t added the Baxter ship tag on Ao3 yet-]

#our life beginnings & always #my fic #my writing #our life now and forever #From Golden Grove Love Sunset Bird fic #We're still friends even if we're miles apart fic series #baxter ward #it's kind of a Baxter chapter somehow lol #franky second #qiu and tamarack get mentioned only this chapter

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hellfirestxnes · 1 year

Text

Imagine Us

Chapter Two

eddie munson x f!reader

word count: 2.2k+

warnings: 18+, girl dad!eddie, mention of blood, flirting, divorce, custody battle, the girls call wayne grandpa (if there’s any tags missing, let me know please!)

notes: This isn’t edited! I also got some requests about people joining the taglist for this fic! You can fill out this taglist form here if you’d like to be added! Thank you for all of your support here on this ❤️

As the beginning of October comes and goes, you and Eddie share many lingering moments during drop off and pickup. You’ve discovered Laura only picks the girls up one Friday out of the month and every other day, Eddie is there between 3 o’clock and 3:15, ready to corral their giggling faces into the car and get them home for dinner. Usually, Eddie hangs around in the mornings if you’re helping another student. Not that he needs to, not that he should, and it’s only a few minutes… what’s the harm? He just wants to make sure he says hello every morning. If it doesn’t help start your day, it sure helps start his.

And every day you find your approach to teaching a big litter of 5-year-old’s seems a bit unorthodox to most. But, you’ve always found it easier to teach kids the wonders of the world around them while being immersed into it. So right before recess you gather jackets, spending time with each student to make sure they’re all zipped up and cozy. And you stop at little Alice Munson, her pigtail braids are punctuated with pink hair ties to match the pink jacket she had worn that day. “I picked pink today.” The dimples in her cheeks out in full force as she tilts up her chin, letting you zip the jacket up to the top.

“I think the pink looks very pretty, Alice.” You smile softly, giving her small hands a reassuring squeeze. She just giggles softly, her cheeks beginning to heat up as she turns her head away from you and down to the floor.

“Allie is okay.” Her voice is quiet, her eyes not directed towards you as she says it. They’re fixated on a spot on the ground in front of you. So you smile, squeezing her hand again to let her know you heard her before you’re standing up and leading your gaggle of a class out to the far end of the playground, letting them crowd around in the grass to find whatever treasures they could to use in their crafts after they’re back inside.

When you see the recess aide slip out into the crowd of children to relieve you, you thank her and quietly retreat back to your classroom. A quick tidy of everyone’s spaces and you’re ready to go when the kids return to you. And just as you sit at your desk you hear quiet sniffles outside of your door before little Alice Munson is peeking her head in. Immediately you can see the tears in her eyes, scraped bleeding skin, and swelling bump on her forehead. “Oh, sweetheart, what happened?” You’re quick to jump up, going over to her.

“I tripped on my shoe. Miss Dunn sent me inside for the nurse but I don’t know how to go there.” Her words aren’t as clear as they normally would be, through the tears and you sigh softly, reaching for her hands.

“Let's go get you cleaned up, okay?” You suggest and she just nods, holding onto you with her right hand as she rubs the tears away with her left. “I have to call your daddy, okay? Just to let him know what happened.” You give her hand a squeeze as you begin to walk her to the nurses office.

Alice just nods quietly in response. The silence settles for just a few moments and then Alice sniffles, “can my daddy come get me?”

“Oh… I dunno, sweetie.” You smile at her sympathetically, “I’ll talk to him okay? Let’s just get you taken care of first.”

*****

Eddie has worked with the same three guys at the shop for the last ten years and he feels like he knows everything about them. The way Leroy’s wife left him because of his drinking, he knows about Robert’s bouncing baby boy due in December, and even about how Dave’s moving back in with his parents. But Eddie? He tried for a long time to get his life out of prying eyes, but that plan flew out the window in the second year of his marriage. He remembers coming home from a particularly hard day to Laura crying on the couch, after lamenting to him about her visit with her doctor earlier in the day. The trill in his voice when he asked if she’s serious. He’s twenty-four. He’s not ready for this. What about her being pregnant is good news? He regrets it now, all these years later. The way he yelled, the things he’s broken. He remembers back then thinking he’d be just like his own father. He remembers the cops showing up on his doorstep, no doubt one of their other neighbors had called from the shouting— they were questioning his wife, asking if he’d hurt her. While he was still wrapping his head around the fact that he was going to be a dad. And going to work on Monday? You could sure as hell bet he was greeted with a pat on the back from Leroy, a smile on his face, “I promise you’re gonna do great, kid.” And he does. When he holds his daughter in his arms for the first time, he thinks he could cry.

The stereo cuts off, pulling Eddie from his thoughts and leaving the shop eerily quiet aside from the sound of tools clanking. “Eddie?” Leroy calls, Eddie never got many calls at work anymore. Those days were reserved for when his girls were little. Eddie wipes his hands on the rag in the pocket of his coveralls as he walks over, taking the outstretched phone from him quietly. He’s just as confused when he presses the phone up to his ear.

“Uh… hello?” He questions, unsure of who would be calling him here.

“Yes, Hi.” Your voice begins to fill his ears, sweet, smooth, and soft. He can just imagine the smile on your face right now as his own begins to turn a deep shade of crimson. Eddie glances out at the shop floor to where the guys continue to work quietly and he lets his guard down for just a moment, twisting the phone cord around his fingers and he smiles, flirting the best he can.

“And what do I owe this pleasure?” He hears the whistle before he sees any of their faces, which just deepens the color of his face by three shades at least.

“Wouldn’t say I’m calling out of pleasure, Eddie.” You retort, a small giggle threatening to escape before you compose yourself to deliver the real news. “There was an accident on the playground today, Allie’s got a pretty big goose egg on her forehead, the nurse checked her over and there’s nothing to worry about but, I’m required to call and let you know.” You explain, hearing the other men teasing Eddie on the other end of the line.

Eddie’s quiet for a few moments as his demeanor changes, maybe loving the way you so casually called her Allie, just as he and Jane did, “is she okay?” he asks, a bit of worry lacing his voice.

“Yeah, of course! She’s perfectly okay, she’s spending some time inside coloring.” Your eyes drift over to Alice sitting neatly at her desk, the bump on her forehead still angry and red. Otherwise, she seemed fine to you. “I’ll keep an eye on her and give you a call if it gets any worse, okay?” You settle his nerves, wishing this was anything but a work call.

Eddie just rubs over his face, the color leaving his cheeks. He leans back against the wall, phone still pressed to his ear as he thinks of what to say. “Thank you.” Is the best he comes up with, but he’ll have to beat himself up for it later. Embarrassing.

“Bye Eddie.” Your voice is soft again, no doubt that smile back on your face. It pulls his own out, dimples setting in deep and it brings out the tirade of teasing from the other guys as Eddie says goodbye and hangs up. He just rolls his eyes, flips the stereo back on, and continues to ignore the “who’s the girl?” comments he gets.

*****

It takes an hour out of the day, but the kids' monsters with all of their treasures are glued together and placed on top of their cubbies, waiting for them all to come back and see them Monday morning. You see each of their proud smiles as they begin decorating name tags for each of their freshly made friends. And you keep your promise to Eddie, watching Alice as closely as you possibly can when there are more than 20 other children in your care. The redness of the bump starts to fade and you can see her frown fading as well. She’s starting to relax which means the pain might be starting to subside.

Alice places her name tag in the bin with the rest of the kids once the bell rings, but heads back to her seat instead of to her cubby to grab her coat and backpack. You stand by the door, saying goodbye to each of your students as parent after parent comes to pick them up. Pausing when you see Alice begin to color another picture, smiling when you sit next to her after the class has emptied. “My daddy’s birthday is tomorrow.” She looks up at you, showing you the latest drawing she’d made.

You can only assume it’s Eddie, her, and her sister. But there’s another person standing next to Eddie that vaguely has the same hair color as you do, which is more than likely a big coincidence. But it still pulls a visceral feeling of warmth from your core. “Is this a card for your daddy?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Yeah! This is daddy, and me and Jane.” She points at each one, grinning widely. The same smile you see amplified each morning on her father. “and that’s you!” She turns her head up to look at you, not sure what to expect. “My daddy likes you a lot. He told my grandpa.” she shrugs a bit, like it’s casual information in the household.

“He wanted to invite you to dinner this weekend.” Jane says from the door, walking over to gather up Alice’s things. “but he’s too embarrassed. So I’m going to.” She grins and Alice just begins to nod.

“Please, please, please?” She grins, standing up and stuffing her jacket on as Jane helps her with her backpack.

And you laugh softly, nodding. “Of course, kids.” You watch as Jane sorts a few flyaway hairs in Alice’s braids before grabbing her hand. “Is someone here to pick you up?” she frowns a bit, usually Eddie would come in, come say hello.

“Yeah, grandpa is. Dad had to work more.” Jane shrugs a little before she’s leading Alice out of the classroom. And you get up to follow, watching as the girls climb into the awaiting car at the front of the building talking and giggling with smiles on their faces.

*****

Eddie sighs heavily when he walks up the front steps of Wayne’s trailer. He leans his head against the door for just a moment as he takes a deep breath. He knew fighting Laura wasn’t going to be easy, but sitting the entire afternoon in court to have their case heard only to be told she was trying to go for full custody was exhausting. He’d sooner die than let her take his girls from him. They were happy here. He did all that he could so they could have a happy life, everything they want and need.

He can hear their laughs through the door with Wayne, smiling to himself. He had to put on a brave face, not let the emotion he was dealing with show. He wraps on the door with a knuckle just loud enough to get their attention before turning the handle and letting himself in. Wayne has dinner cooking, Jane is settled into the couch as she does her homework, and Alice is running to her daddy as quickly as she can. Eddie lifts her up and presses a kiss to her temple, settling her on his hip. “Did you two have a good day today?” He asks as he walks over to grab a beer and have a seat, Alice sitting on his lap. He’s exhausted mentally and physically and fully ready to indulge in dinner with his family.

“Yeah.” Jane nods as Eddie pops the top on the beer. His ears perk up when he hears your name fall out of her mouth. “I invited her to dinner this weekend.” She shrugs nonchalantly, “for your birthday.”

Eddie isn’t subtle about the way he chokes on his drink. It makes Wayne turn his head towards him, silently checking if he’s alright. Jane and Alice both laugh, grinning and giggling, they know they made him happy deep down. “you did, what?” Eddie asks softly, barely believing what he’s hearing.

Jane shrugs, “grandpa said it was okay.” and that’s when Eddie’s head whips towards Wayne, who just gives a carefree shrug, a knowing smile on his own face. One that Eddie never sees. “Are you happy?”

Eddie rubs over his face, shaking his head with a smile, as he sets the beer bottle down on the table. “Yeah, babes. I’m happy.”

————————

Chapter One || Chapter Two ||

*****