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violets-page · 3 years

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In her arms |R.M|

Rebekah Mikaelson x reader

Word count: 2181

Rebekah and you have been friends forever, but when Damon and Elena try and use you as leverage she confesses her feelings.

warnings: torture, nothing too extreme or graphically depicted.

MASTERLIST

God, you hated living in Mystic Falls.

Those were your first thoughts when you woke up alone and in the dark.

Where you were was a mystery but how you got there was plain and simple. You had been kidnapped. But by who was what you still had to wander.

You sat as still as you could trying to listen for voices, footsteps, or hell; even traffic. Not that you could even hear anything over the sound of your own heavy breathing. Your head pounded as you tried to figure out how you ended up here.

Last you had remembered you had been walking to Bekah’s house. It was only about a mile from where you lived and the sun had shone brightly. Not to mention your mom’s car was in the shop so she had taken yours.

The last thing you remembered was smiling at the thought of the Mikelson’s trying the spicy pasta you were going to make for them tonight. That and then your head colliding with something hard.

You gave up on listening and started to struggle. Your hands were bound in front of you by a thick rope and your feet bound underneath you. After trying to shift your hands out of the ropes for probably a good 10 minutes you realized that whoever tied them was making sure that you weren’t going anywhere.

By now all the thoughts had started running through your head. They’re going to kill me. Or worse. I’ll never see my family again. Will they ever find my body. Oh my god oh my god. Rebeckah is waiting for me. If I die… I hope she never has to see my body or hear about what happened.

By now your hands had brush burn where the rope laid, and your legs had fallen asleep. the old shirt of a gag that they had tied around your mouth was soaked in spit and you could no longer taste the bourbon on it that you could when you first woke up. Not to mention the pains in your stomach from skipping lunch, and now probably dinner.

Rebekah- god knows why- had become rather insistent in training you on self-defense so you had gotten pretty good at that. She failed, however, to show you how to escape from rope bonds.

You managed to scoot forward quite a bit. Reaching up towards the door handle you twist it only for it to be locked. Of course. But that didn’t mean it was useless.

The door handle looked ancient. It was metal with one of those old keyholes. Part of the metal plate jutted out in what looked to be an attempt to yank it off.

Reaching up you started to rub the ropes against the metal piece hoping to cut it off. Your actions halted before starting again faster at the sudden appearance of footsteps.

Shit shit shit.

When the door opened you fell threw. Not realizing how much you’d been leaning against the door.

“Damon, we already have her. You don’t need to torture her too.”

You were pushed onto your back by a foot to the stomach.

Your eyes met pale blue ones song and a terrifying smirk.

Damon Salvatore

The only reason you knew who he was was because of the absurd amount of time he spent pestering Bonnie and Rebekah. Who happened to be the few people at Mystic fall high you talked to regularly.

You recognized the voice scolding Damon as Caroline.

“Oh come on, she’s not gonna come if she thinks her girlfriend is A-okay. We gotta ruff her up a bit.”

Girlfriend?

They definitely had the wrong person

As you made eye contact with Caroline she dared to shoot you a little smile and wave. You just glared at her.

“Alright listen here hun, all you gotta do is scream, cry maybe spill some blond for us then call your dear friend Rebekah over to save you and we can all leave happy. Okay?΅

Your brows furrowed. What do they want with Bekah?

Bekah must have a girlfriend she never told me about. And they must think I’m her.

Your heart hurt at this realization.

When you made no move or any attempt to reply he continued on.

“look, we just need Stefan back’

Your reply came out muffled by the gag. Which he promptly (and aggressively) ripped off. You shifted so you were sitting up with your back against the cold wall.

“Bekah doesn't have stefan”

He rolled his eyes at you

“I know that. But Klaus does. Klause doesn’t love anyone but his family, and we couldn’t catch them. Trust me we tried. However, Rebekah loves you, which means she’d do anything to save you even if that meant betraying her brother.”

“Maybe.” Caroline piped up.

“Even if she did she would call the authorities to come and save me. Bekah wouldn’t risk her life to come and get me. Plus I’m not her girlfriend.”

At this, they all rolled their eyes.

“Trust me she will” Damon scoffed

“Let’s just give this over with” came the voice of Elena. Who had somehow appeared at your side.

Your eyes went wide at the sight of the needle in your leg before quickly dropping closed.

* * * * * * * *

When you awoke again you were in what appeared to be the Salvatore living room. A quick glance down showed that your hands and feet had been bound tightly to a chair.

“Finally she’s up.” Elena grumbled

“Well someone miscalculated the dosage” Damon side-eyed her.

“Well no one told me she was a human”

Human. There was that word again. You never really understood what they meant. Bekah and her brothers always referred to you as their little human, which implied that they were different. While you didn’t fully understand it, you knew parts of how they were different.

You knew Rebekah and her brothers were all extremely strong and never seemed to get hurt. And you knew from eavesdropping that there were others in the town like them.

You weren’t scared though. Well, at least not of the Mikelsons. They would never hurt you. Damon and Elena on the other hand….

The earlier stalked towards you with a devilish grin on his face. He reached for your hand and you immediately tried to pull back. Unable to because of the restraints you felt his cold hand engulf yours.

Right before he broke your finger.

You screamed partially from the shock of seeing your finger bent flat against the back of your hand and the other part from the pain.

It wasn’t until you saw Damon glance back at Elena did you notice that she was recording.

Other hand. Same finger.

Again you screamed. Louder this time.

One by one he broke each one. Waiting for your screams to subside before moving on the next. * * * * * * * *

After there were none left to break and your vision was fading in and out from the pain, he leaned in close.

“Now beg for her”

At first, you didn’t know who he was talking about. But as the tears started to run down your face and all you could think of was the safe embrace of a certain blonde, you knew. But never would you drag her into possible danger. You would rather let him break every bone in your body.

And it seemed he might.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you mumbled so quietly that you weren't sure if he even heard you or not. Apparently, he did. And boy was that the wrong thing to say.

He motioned to Caroline who handed him a sleek and simple dagger before covering her mouth and turning away.

You hoped you were wrong about what you thought was coming. But when the dagger pierced the skin on your thigh there was no denying it.

“Bek… “ it had slipped through your lips without you even noticing. Damon however easily caught it.

He removed the dagger and aimed a little lower before plummeting it back in. Your mind rattled as the sound of your screams filled the house.

“BEG FOR HER” but it was too late. You had already passed out

* * * * * * * *

“It’s good enough,” Caroline tried to convince the pair. “Just send it to her”.

So they did.

* * * * * * * *

Rebekah was starting to get worried. You were supposed to be at her house by now for family dinner night. Plus it was your turn to cook.

She wanted to tell you all about how mad she was at Nik as you played with her hair. She wanted to see you smile as your warm arms wrapped around her with promises that everything would be okay.

You would have texted her if you were going to be late. Right?

She let out an audible sigh of relief at the sound of your ringtone coming from her pocket.

Her ease was short-lived when instead of a text she saw a video. Of you. Hurt.

A million thoughts raced through her head as black veins extended from beneath her eyes.

Before her mind even caught up with her body she was out the door.

* * * * * * * *

By the time she arrived at the Salvatore house, she thought her dead heart would just about burst out of her ribcage.

Flinging the door open she ran right to Damon. Steak already in her hand she raised it high above her head

“STOP” she looked over to see Elena holding a knife against y/n’s tear-stricken face. Her demeanor quickly changed as she let the stake clatter to the floor. Her tight grip on Damon’s shirt, however, remained.

“If you touch her Elena it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

* * * * * * * *

At the familiar sound of her voice, you couldn't help but let every muscle in your body relax, despite the situation you were in.

You couldn’t even hold back the words that left your mouth.

* * * * * * * *

“Beckah.” She heard you sigh in relief. Her heart swelled at the sound of your voice.

“Here’s how it’s going to go.” Elena spoke with a sudden burst of confidence “Call your brother and get him to bring Stefan back and make him turn back on his emotions. No Stefan. We kill her. Hurt any of us. We kill her. Got it?”

Rebekah looked back at you. There was no way she could get to you in time, the dagger was already drawing blood from your neck. Shoving Damon back she walked out with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The moment she was out the door she immediately dialed Nik.

“I need you to bring Stefan back.”

His reply was exactly what she had been fretting: “You know I can’t do that bekah.”

Her hands shook as she tried to keep her voice steady. “Please Nik, they-” breath in breath out. “They took y/n.”

The line went silent.

“Please please please” she begged as silent sobs wracked her body.

“Wait right there”

* * * * *

Klaus had a soft spot when it came to anything involving his sister. And if that meant protecting a weak human girl that made her happy then so be it.

Don’t get him wrong he adored you as well. You came over every Thursday to prepare a new dish from around the world with them. And while he wasn’t as infatuated with you as Kol and Bekah are, he had grown fond.

He arrived at the Salvatore house hours later to find Bekah curled up on the sidewalk out front. When she looked up he saw that her makeup had been wiped off and her eyes rubbed red.

As she took note of the lack of a Stefan she stood up. “Where's Stefan?”

“Don’t worry I'll handle this” he made a move towards the door but Rebekah quickly moved in front of him.

“No Nik you can't, they’ll kill her. You need Stefan, please just go get Stefan.”

He gripped her shoulders and gave her a slight shake to bring her back to her senses. “Bekah. Don’t forget who you are. Who WE are.” she gave him a nod and they turned towards the house.

Within moments the pair had knocked out two of the vampires and the third was left cowering far away from y/n.

Becka leaned close so only Elena could hear.

“If you ever even think about touching her again, I will kill everyone you ever love. For all of eternity,” she smiled and the quaking brunette.

As soon as the vamps were taken care of Rebekah wasted no time running to your side. Your head felt light and you weren’t sure if you were hallucinating because of the blood loss or if Bekah just snapped Caroline’s neck. You also weren’t so whether she was talking or that was just the ringing in your ears.

As she undid the ropes you faded in and out of consciousness. But now you were certain you had heard her mumbles clearly

I love you. I love you. I love you. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let you go. I love you. I love you. I love you.

as she pulled you into her warm embrace you knew you were safe.

And as tears and lips hit your forehead. You knew this would be the end of your friendship.

Pt.2

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abcdefanfics · 3 years

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Whatever it takes part 1

Summary: You were blessed with Stefan Salvatore as your boyfriend, but still sometimes you felt like there was missing something in your relationship. Kol is definitely planning on changing that.

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x reader

Warnings: mentions of sex and violence. That’s all for this part.

Words: 2.2k

You had recently moved to Mystic Falls and your life had been filled with vampires, hunters, witchers, hybrids and everything dangerous and supernatural ever since. However, you had never been as happy as you were here. That happiness was mostly caused by your extremely handsome and sweet boyfriend: Stefan Salvatore. Although, sometimes you felt like there was something missing in your relationship...

Lately, it had been unusually quiet in the little town. Peace had been made with the Orignals and all was well since then. You had the feeling that this peace and quiet would not last that long. It was Mystic Falls after all...

You were disturbed from your daydream when two strong arms grabbed you from behind and a pair of soft lips were attached to your neck. “Penny for your thoughts.” you heard Stefan whisper in your ear. “I was just thinking how it had been so peaceful here lately and that I don’t trust that to be for long.” you said, sharing your concern with Stefan. “(Y/N), you have nothing to worry about as long as I am here I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe and you know that.” he said lovelingly as he turned you around on your feet to kiss you on your lips. You smiled into his kiss. “Maybe even a little too safe.” you responded.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Stefan said loudly. He was clearly upset. “How in the world could you ever be too safe?” “No, Stefan. I don’t mean it like that. It is just that sometimes you treat me like... like I’m...” you stopped talking since you could not find the right words to express your feelings. “Like what, (Y/N)?” Stefan practically screamed. By now you were pretty sure that everybody downstairs was listening to your conversation. And you knew that the guys would always come over to the Salvatore house, because of all the liquor. “Damn those vampires with their super hearing,” you thought to yourself.

“Like what, (Y/N)?” Stefan repeated his question. “And don’t make me ask again.” he said semi-threathening. You sighed. “Fine. Sometimes you treat me like I’m so vulnerable. Like I would break and shatter in a thousand pieces.” you explained. “(Y/N), you are vulnerable. You’re one of the few humans left in our group and you have nothing to protect yourself against the supernatural.” Stefan answered. “I’m not talking about protecting myself or fighting the supernatural, Stefan. I’m talking about us.” you said more fiercely than intended. Stefan looked at you with pure confussion on his face. “(Y/N), you’re not making any sense.”

“I want you to be rough. I need you to be rough.” you started to explain. “Sometimes I don’t want you to make love to me, I want you to fuck me.” you screamed out. You were sure that everyone downstairs could hear your conversation by now, even without vampire hearing. “(Y/N), you know I can’t. Even if I wanted it. I couldn’t live with myself if I’d ever hurt you.” Stefan said while he grabbed your hands. “Stefan, stop saying that! I’m done with that fucking excuse.” you screamed as you pulled away from his grip and you walked away fastly. You needed to be alone right now. You needed to cool down.

You ran down the stairs to find Damon, Klaus, Kol and Alaric looking at you with amusement dripping from their faces. “You know, love. If Stefan can’t satisfy you, you know where to find me.” Klaus said while he gave you a wink. “I’ll keep that in mind.” you said playfully to the Original. You said goodbye to Stefan, who had followed you and came down the stairs as well. You turned your back to him and left the house. Stefan looked like he was about to kill Klaus and you smirked to yourself. You would never cheat on Stefan, but if making him jealous would improve your sexlife you would definitely give it a shot.

A few days had passed and you hadn’t seen Stefan since your argument. You hadn’t seen anyone for that matter. You received a text from Bonnie asking if you wanted to go to the grill to meet up and have some drinks. You really needed the company and the drinks, so you said you’d be there.

You were on your way to the grill and you were greeted by Caroline, Elena and Bonnie and a lot of cocktails. “Hey, (Y/N). We figured you might need those.” Caroline explained as she pointed towards the drinks. You nodded as you sat down at the table. “I’m guessing you all heard what happened the other night.” you sighed. “Yes, Damon gave us a slight impression.”Elena answered. “Maybe I just overreacted.” you admitted. “I love Stefan with all my heart. And it’s not like he is bad in bed. Not at all.” you explained. “(Y/N), it’s okay to want more from a relationship.” Caroline assures you. “Yes, definitely.” Bonnie said nodding. “But first we’re going to finish these drinks.” Elena said with a wink.

You were already a couple of drinks in when all of a sudden you saw Kol and Klaus entering the grill. They were closely followed by Damon and Stefan and your heart skipped a beat when you looked into Stefans eyes. He smiled at you shyly not sure if you had wanted to see him already. You smiled back and before you had the chance to stand up and walk over to him Kol joined the four of you. “I brought you a drink.” he said smirking as he handed you a tequila sunrise. “Thanks, Kol.” you said surprised as you took the drink from him.

You wanted to get up to see Stefan when all of a sudden a strong hand grabbed your arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” Kol asked. “To see Stefan.” you explained. “I can only let you go after you finish your drink.” he said secretive. “Uhm, okay then.” you said hesitantly. He was acting strange. Even for Kol. You didn’t think much of it tho and finished the drink quickly, showed the empty glass to Kol and left to see Stefan.

Stefan was over at the bar with a drink in his hand and his eyes on your body. “Hi, Stef.” you started. “I’m sorry. I crossed a line the other night and we don’t have to change anything if you don’t want to.” you said without breathing. Stefan silenced you by placing his lips on yours. He pulled you into a deep and passionate kiss. And you felt the world fading around you. Like it was just you and Stefan. He slowly pulled away from you and you felt yourself returning to the grill. “You don’t need to apologize, babe. I actually came to say that we can try whatever you want tonight.” he wishpered into your ear. Sending shivers down your spine. You gasped for air and nodded. “I would like that very much. Let me grab my things from the table and we can leave.” you said before you rushed over to the girls and Kol.

“I’m sorry to rush out like this.” you said to the girls, who were sipping their cocktails. “But something came up with Stefan.” you said, while you were unable to surpress a smirk. You were about to grab your things when that same strong hand from before grabbed your arm again. “I’m sorry, dear, but I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Kol said with dark eyes. “What the fuck do you mean?” you said as you tried to escape his grip, but he was way stronger than you. “It is getting way too boring over here in this shitty town.” Kol explained. “And after I overheard your little fight with Stefan the other night I came up with something to relight the fire in this town and perhaps also in your relationship.” he continued with a wink.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kol.” you said angrily. Stefan noticed that there was something happening and stood behind you and Kol in less than a second. “You heard her, asshole. Let her go or I’ll make you.” Stefan threatened Kol. “Or you’ll make me.” Kol said laughing. “I would like to see you try...” Stefan came at Kol immediately but he was no match for the Original. Kol threw him through the grill. Stefan was up on his feet again in no time and planned on attacking Kol a second time. “I would not come one step closer if I were you.” Kol said dark. “Unless you want me to cut her throat with this dagger.” he threatened as he grabbed a dagger from his pocket and held it against your troath.

“Kol, brother. You don’t want to do this.” Klaus began trying to calm down his brother. “You don’t think I’m capable of killing this little human.” Kol started to laugh. “Do you even know me, brother.” “I’m sensing some brotherly tension here.” Damon remarked sarcastically. “Oh shut up.” Klaus and Kol said in unison. “Kol, what do you want?” Stefan asked desperately. “What I want is quite simple actually. I just want to spark up this place.” Kol started to explain. “You see this town has gotten kind of dull without all the violence and bloodshed and I just want to change that.” he said with a low and dark voice.

“If you kill me, the only blood that will be shed, is yours.” you said with anger present in your voice. “You see. I really don’t want to kill you, (Y/N).” Kol began. “I would really miss that cute ass of yours if I did kill you.” he whispered in your ear. Stefan began to really lose his patience. “If you don’t want to kill her then why is that dagger pressed against her throat?” he remarked angrily. “Well, my dear Stefan. It is because slitting her throat won’t kill her. Not really...” he said simply. “So, just like how driving a white oak stake through your heart wouldn’t kill you. Oh wait it would...” Damon joked.

“Shit, Stefan. He means that it wouldn’t kill me, because it would turn me.” you explained. “I’m not following. There’s no vampire blood in your system.” Stefan said with utter confusion on his face. “Are you absolutely sure about that, Stefan.” Kol said with a smirk on his face. “Stefan, there is! He made me drink a tequila sunrise. I didn’t think much of it, but he must have spiked it.” you said shakingly. “Such a clever girl.” Kol remarked. “I’m glad one of you figured it out.” he laughed.

“No!” Stefan shouted. “I’m not going to let you turn her. Whatever you want I’ll do it just let her go.” “That is exactly the reaction I was hoping for, my best Stefan.” Kol smiled. “So of course I have an ultimatum. I won’t turn (Y/N). If you... Oh boy, this is going to be so much fun. Can you imagine all the blood that will be spilled...” “If I do what, Kol.” Stefan interrupted him. “Just one simple thing, Salvatore. Just turn your humanity off. That’s all I’m asking.” Kol smirked.

“No! Stefan, I won’t let you do that!” you screamed as tears dripped down your eyes. “It’s okay. Atleast now we can be together forever.” you tried to talk Stefan out of it, because you could see in his eyes that he was ready to turn it off. “Stef, I can’t let you go on a killingspree. Just listen to me.” you said desperately. You noticed that Stefan was torn by the dilemma. You honestly didn’t mind becoming a vampire and you and Stefan had talked numerous times about him turning you. You would always tell him that you were okay with whomever would turn you as long as it wasn’t Katherine Pierce or Kol Mikaelson. And here you were regretting you ever mentioned the latter to Stefan. You knew that he would never go through with this, he would never let Kol, of all people, turn you.

Kol also noticed the doubt in Stefans face. His goal was to make Stefan turn his switch, because that seemed like the most fun to him. “You know, Stefan. Chances are that whenever she turns, she will be sired to me. How great would that be. Your little girlfriend doing everything I desire. I also bet I can give her whatever she needs.” Kol smirked. “Fuck, I’ll do it! I’ll turn it off.” Stefan shouted, since he couldn’t take it anymore. “Just let her go.” he demanded. “It took you longer to cave than I anticipated, but I just knew that your love for this one girl would make you foolish. And no humanity Stefan would also boost your sexlife, so everybody wins.” Kol said triumphant.

He removed the dagger and pushed you towards Stefan. “Now it’s time to say goodbye to your beloved Stefan. God knows if you’ll ever see him again.” Kol laughed wickedly. You stumbled over to Stefan with the tears streaming down your cheecks. “Stefan, no! What have you done?” you said shakingly. “Whatever it takes, right.” Stefan said as he tried to calm you down. “I love you, Stef.” you said as you grabbed his cheek. “I love you too, (Y/N). Forever.” he said before he placed a soft and loving kiss on your lips. You looked back up in his gorgeous green eyes and that was the last you saw of the Stefan you love.

#smut #imagine #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvd #stefan salvatore #fanfiction #tvd smut #vampire diaries smut #stefan salvatore smut #klaus mikaelson #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore imagine #tvd imagine #the vampire diaries smut #the vapire diaries imagine

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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Prompt # 19: Addiction

@sicktember Alternate prompt #4: Stay

Title: Unexpected Developments Part 2

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Find Part 1 under prompt # 8. Mr. Darcy is sick in bed and miserable. Elizabeth is trying to look after him, but his bad mood gets the better of him and tempers flare. Will sweetness or stubbornness win out in the end?

Elizabeth Bennett was the only guest at Netherfield who wasn't in bed with a cold. The virus Jane had caught riding to attend luncheon with Caroline had spread around the whole house, but it seemed Eliza was immune. Mr. Darcy had been the last to fall ill, and Lizzie had discovered him sneezing in a corner over a day ago while she remained perfectly healthy. It was fortunate she had discovered him though, for the servants were rushing hither and yon at the beck and call of their ill master and his sister, and poor Mr. Darcy would have been overlooked completely if Lizzie hadn't taken him under her care.

Lizzie, for her part, was glad Jane's cold was much improved from the days prior. Since Jane needed little tending now, she had given Lizzie her blessing to give most of her attention to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, for his part, was very accustomed to having a houseful of servants to do his bidding, and was little accustomed to being ill, strong and virile as he was. Because of these things, he was not the easiest patient, though he truly tried to make an effort to curb his frustration and not take his misery out on Elizabeth. Her lack of symptoms clearly perturbed him, however.

"How is it you are still in perfect health while I and everyone else are laid up with this beastly chest cold?" he griped that afternoon while Lizzie fussed around, tidying up dishes and rags from his bedside. If Lizzie wasn't accustomed to his voice by now, she would have had trouble understanding him, for his nose was stopped tight with congestion, and his voice raw and weak from coughing, rendering him nigh unintelligible.

She giggled to herself. "Well you see, I believe I've already had this cold, for in the week prior to Jane's arrival here, my father, some of my other sisters and myself caught cold. We were envious of Jane's good luck in not falling ill at the time, but it seems it caught up with her in the end."

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy muttered sourly with a slushy sniffle.

"Oh don't be cross. It isn't so terrible lounging in bed all day, being waited on hand and foot is it?"

"Yet when I find myself miserable in body, I find my mood tends to follow," he groused.

"Hmm." Elizabeth moved to his side, caressing his flushed face gently with the pad of her thumb. "It's just as I thought. You're only irritable like this when your fever is up, and indeed you are overwarm again. Jane's fever wasn't nearly so persistent."

"How fortunate for me," he mumbled to himself. Elizabeth tried to ignore his bad temper as she fetched her basin and rag. She wasn't fond of sarcasm, and his attitude was irking her more than she cared to let on. Tenderly as ever though, she began bathing his face and neck to try to bring down his miserable fever.

The cold water on his face made him gasp slightly, which became a cough, and the coughing only seemed to agitate him more. He usually enjoyed his face being bathed, but today he drew away from the rag.

“Perhaps we should try another method for treating fever, since this does not seem to be effective,” said the sick man. His speech was curt and tense with foul temper.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, trying to keep her own temper under control. “What would you suggest, sir? We have tried willow bark, which made you feel more ill, and you will not have any other poultices,” she said in a measured, warning way.

“There must be something we haven't done yet. I would do anything to rid myself of this beastly cold, that came from *your* sister, I might add! You just said you already had this cold. Think of something else to try!”

Elizabeth flew to her feet, tossing down the rag. “Perhaps you should go plunge yourself into an ice bath! That will surely help the fever, and I’m sure it will do wonders for your coughing and sneezing as well! But you can draw it yourself, and you can see to your own meals and entertainment too. You clearly feel my efforts are inadequate, so you can tend to yourself from now on. I am through with smoothing your insufferable pride and being a target for your bad mood. Good day, sir!”

With a whirl of skirts, she was out the door without a glance behind her. Elizabeth went straight to her room and lay down in the cool and quiet, for she was exhausted and careworn from nursing for a week straight. She fell asleep immediately and didn’t wake for several hours.

She felt much refreshed when she did finally emerge. She first went to look in on Jane, who was overall back to normal, but was getting bored sitting around and eager to go home. On questioning the staff, they learned that Caroline had mostly recovered as well. Mr. Bingley was recovering slower, but getting better all the time. The sisters wished him a speedy recovery by way of the servants, for as soon as he was recovered, they would be able to return home.

After visiting with Jane for some time, Elizabeth desired to find a quiet corner and read. To her chagrin, she realized she had left her book in Mr. Darcy’s room. She did not relish seeing him again so soon after they parted so badly, but she had no choice if she wanted her book back. With a sigh, she made her way to his room with hesitant steps. She knocked softly before entering, which felt odd since she had been coming and going freely for two days prior. His hoarse, weak voice bid her come in.

He was in quite a different state than he had been a few hours before. Where he had previously been fitful and agitated, now he seemed weak and lethargic. Even in the dim light she could see how sweat-matted his hair was, and the dark ring on his pillow. He lifted his head up to see who had entered, and his sleepy eyes flickered with confusion upon seeing her.

“I only came to get my book. I apologize for disturbing you,” she said stiffly, hardly looking at him. She snatched up the volume from the table where it lay and turned to go back out, intending to say nothing else.

“Wait.”

She paused, and turned slightly, her good breeding winning over. “Yes?”

He sat up a bit straighter, coughing weakly as he did so. “I am deeply sorry for how I behaved earlier. My treatment of you was inexcusable after all you’ve done for me these past days--” Here he had to pause to press his handkerchief to his dripping nose before he could continue. Elizabeth waited silently. “I was a beast and feel very much like a fool. Please forgive me,” he managed, mumbling through the damp fabric. His eyes shone earnestly above the hand holding the linen in place.

Her face softened. “I accept your apology, and thank you for it. No one acts quite themself when they’re ill, so I gladly forgive you. I’m sorry too for my part in all of it.”

They shared a tiny smile as he tended to his nose with a thick, gurgling blow, and she knew she was forgiven also. Immediately the tension between them was cleared.

Now that they had made up though, she was reluctant to leave him alone again, for he looked so weak and forlorn and in need of care. However, she was a woman of her word. She spoke as she moved to the door, putting her hand on the knob. “You must rest, Mr. Darcy, so I'll leave you be. I truly apologize for waking you.”

“Miss Elizabeth?”

Once more she turned to meet his eyes.

He held out a shaking hand. “Please… stay.”

She slowly returned to his side. “For what purpose, sir?”

“I… I desire your company… and your aid. You are… a far better caregiver than I, and I was a fool to imply otherwise. It… it won't happen again,” he croaked thickly.

Seeing the effort he was making to be overly polite softened Eliza's heart further. She let him take her hand in his warm grasp, a smile playing around her lips. “If you insist. I will stay.”

He smiled also as he drew her hand toward himself. "Here, let me show you something," he snuffled. He placed her wrist against his neck, just as she had done many times over the past few days. He sighed softly as their skin made contact.

“Your fever has broken,” she murmured happily. “You are cool at last.”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. “Did you plunge yourself into an ice bath after all?”

He stifled a cough before he could speak. “I… tried willow bark again, as you recommended. I felt worse… at first, but I fell asleep to ease the symptoms. When I woke, the fever had left me, and I felt… much clearer in mind. The fever was causing my foul mood, as you insightfully noted.” Yet another long speech, and now his voice was barely audible as he sniffled furiously and trembled with fatigue.

“Yet you seem somewhat worse for wear, for you’re completely exhausted, poor man.”

“This illness has left me weary to my bones, it is true. Yet I could not have slept soundly tonight knowing I had offended you. It would be an understatement to say I was very glad when you returned, though I did not expect or deserve a second chance.” His eyes were getting heavier by the moment, and he yawned almost before he finished speaking, reclining back against his pillows once more.

Elizabeth brushed the sweaty curls from his forehead as his eyes drifted closed, then let her hand rest on his cheek for a moment, reassuring herself that his fever was truly gone. He lazily covered her hand with his, a content smile flickering across his face.

She couldn’t help but smile in response, though he couldn’t see it. “Take some rest, Mr. Darcy. All is forgiven, and I will be here when you wake.” She gently tried to pull her hand away from his face. He quickly interlaced his fingers with hers to prevent this.

“You’ll truly stay?” he murmured sleepily, sniffling.

Leaving her hand on his cheek, she perched on the edge of his bed, so close their hips were almost touching. She saw him smile again as she did so.

“Of course I will,” she murmured back, her eyes never leaving his face as he peacefully drifted to sleep.

#sickfic #sicktember2021 #alt prompt 4 #everyone is hotter with a fever

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 3 years

Text

Welcomed Distraction

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Damon Salvatore x Reader

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: Mentions of plotting murder but nothing else?

Author’s note: Welcome to fluff week! And here is how we're gonna start the week off. With a very Anti-Valentines day fic. What other way is there to start this holiday? XD I swear this is the only anti vday fic I have for this week. It is kinda Vday centered, so it's not like ya'll are missing out. Plus I needed this scenario. And I could only picture Damon for this so, here you go!

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things

Flires covered the halls with posters for the dance this weekend. The Bitter Ball was meant for all of those that were heartbroken could get together and express how much they hated Valentine's Day. Of course those that celebrated were going to be out on their dates, spending their time with their loved ones.

Y/N wouldn’t be going out on a fancy date. Nor would she be spending her time at the Bitter Ball. It wasn’t like she had recently experienced heartbreak that would make her want to attend the dance. She was just single.

She had tried proving several times that there was nothing wrong with it. But of course her friends had tried setting her up with someone days before, but it didn’t end up working out. And Y/N actually preferred that. Why spend the money to show off how much you love someone on one specific day.

This way she could stay home for the night. It meant she could stay in her pajamas and binge watch whatever was on Netflix that caught her interest. There was no need to get dressed up for anyone and that was how she wanted it. All that was needed was an assortment of junk food and a drink of her choice.

And it was as Y/N was getting ready to plop into her bed and begin watching a serial killer documentary when there was a knock at her door. For a brief moment, she thought of just ignoring it and climbing into bed. But the other part of her believed that if it was anyone had to come find her, it must have been important and left her room to go answer the door.

Her eyebrow raised as she took in Damon Salvatore standing on the opposite side. She could see he had obviously been dressed for the Bitter Ball. The all black outfit had given that away seeing as it was a requirement for it.

“You know, when I was told everyone was heading to the Bitter Ball, I was surprised not to see you there.” Damon said as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I’m not bitter.” Y/N said as she took a step back to allow him to enter her home. “I’m single. There’s a difference.”

“I doubt everyone that’s there isn’t exactly bitter.” He said as he walked in.

Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “Caroline is bitter.” She noted. “You on the other hand, I can't exactly figure out why you’d want to go to the anti-valentines day ball.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “A bitter heart tends to lead to nights of very entertaining activities.” A smirk pulled at his lips, causing her to roll her eyes. “I mostly went because I thought my partner in crime would be there to be miserable with me. But she wasn’t there and when I found her, she’s ready to veg out without so much as giving me an invite.”

Her eyebrow raised. “I never took you for wanting to stay in and just eat junk food while watching serial killer documentaries.”

“Not with just anyone.” He said with a shrug. “But with you, I’d do it.”

Y/N eyed him a moment. For as long as she had known the man standing in front of her, she had never just been content to just sit there and watch documentaries. After a few seconds she nodded her head. “100 says you’ll get bored and start complaining about some of the cases.”

Damon laughed and shook his head. “That’s a bet I’ll take and even win.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” She said with a shake of her head as she began making her way back towards her room with him in tow.

As they both had settled into Y/N’s bed, Damon had every intention of winning the bet. If it meant he could spend some time with Y/N, he was going to do so. At least that was until they got some details wrong about a case that he had personally had a part in and that seemed to irk him.

A smirk had pulled at Y/N’s lips as she watched him from the corner of her eye. She could see the way his face either scrunched up in disbelief at the facts that had been pouring out of the narrator. Or even the way he sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest. It was in complete contrast to how laidback and comfortable Y/N had been.

“Just admit it, you’re ready to complain.” Y/N said as she never took her eyes off the tv.

Damon shook his head. “Never. Just really getting into this amazing documentary with all the wrong facts.”

Y/N laughed and stuck out her hand towards him. “That was a complaint. And I’ll take my money now.”

“That was not a complaint.” He said shaking his head as he looked over at her. “That was merely an observation.”

“An observation, my ass.” She chuckled. “That was a complaint on how they have the wrong information.”

“One would say that’s an observation that they gave credit to a serial killer, when in fact it was a Vampire.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“What other observations do you have to voice?” She asked with a raised brow knowing she was about to win the bet.

“For one, they managed to say this guy had over 50 victims when, let’s be honest is more like 10 and was given credit for some that were not in fact his.” Damon continued on with every ‘observation’ he noticed during the first hour of what they’ve seen.

It was as Y/N rolled over on her stomach and propped her head on her fist, and a small smirk pulled at her lips that Damon realized he had gone into a full blown tangent on just how wrong the documentary had been. He had stopped mid sentence and took in her position and shook his head.

“Fine, you win.” He said with a roll of his eyes.

She began laughing away at his reaction and her laughter grew at seeing the slightest pout form on his lips. Damon was the one that usually won bets against a lot of people. But when it came to Y/N, she somehow won them. Even when her odds were against her.

The group used to say that was her supernatural ability. To be able to make bets go in her favor. But Y/N was as ordinary as they came. She wasn’t a relative of anyone special, she wasn’t descended from any kind of witch coven or royalty. She was as human as they came and she preferred that.

The moment the laughter died down, Damon watched her for a moment. “Want to talk about it?” He asked, keeping his attention on her.

His words hadn’t caught her off guard. She had been expecting them from the moment he had shown up at her door. But even then, her face fell and she looked away from him as she thought about it.

She may not have been bitter, but Y/N had gone through a bad heartbreak almost a year ago. One that left her broken in a way she’d never believed she would ever feel. That had been before she met the Salvatores and found out about the world she now lived in. While her friends had known about it, they always tried to get her back on the horse. But she never had been ready to do it.

“I don’t think I am.” She said with a shake of her head. “One day I’ll be able to talk about it without reliving it.” Even as she spoke of it now, she felt an emotion bubbling within her. “That time is just not right now.”

Damon laid back on the bed so that he was leveled with her. “You know I could always make him some serial killer’s next victim.”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “I think that would complete your previous offers of compelling, eating him and ripping his heart out.”

He smirked. “Just say the word, point me in the right direction and it’s done. No questions asked.”

“I’m surprised someone hasn’t done it already.” Knowing her friends, she was expecting it. Especially with the way everyone went behind each other’s backs from time to time to make sure they were safe.

“Oh, we’ve been tempted.” He said with a nod. “Okay, mostly me, but that’s because I'm impulsive and usually don’t care what other people say.”

“What stopped you this time?” She asked, curious. As Damon had said, he did things without thinking. And the fact that he had thought about doing so from time to time and not actually doing it had surprised Y/N.

“Because, believe it or not, while I’m impulsive and do things behind the backs of the people I care about, I don’t think I’d be able to handle your reaction afterwards.” He nodded his head. “I can handle everyone else being angry with me, or even hating me for a period of time, but I don’t think I could handle it coming from you.”

Y/n nodded her head as she took in his words. “I don’t think I could hate you, Damon. You could go out there and kill him tonight without me knowing and I still wouldn’t hate you for it. I’d probably thank you in the morning once I found out.”

“Well,” He said with a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone be okay with murder.”

She chuckled as she pointed towards the still playing documentary. “It would be interesting to see what details they’d get wrong when you’re the culprit.”

While she may have been only slightly joking, the whole conversation had distracted her from the hurt that she had been secretly hiding from the others. Planning out a revenge with a vampire was the last thing she had been expecting to do tonight. But the way it happened showed she was getting better.

Because creating a hypothetical murder scene with a vampire is just the next step of the healing process.

Always and Forever Tags:

@taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @wayward-dan @neeadinghugs @fafulous @kenmen02 @elizamonet @dora-the-grownup @mschellehitt @xanderling @fandom-princess-forevermore @buckysarm4 @hi-my-name-is-riley @helenasingers @mrs-jackson-kenner @hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione @dumble-daddy @theactressstaringinyourbaddream @maldita-world @nikmikaelsonswife @mikaelson-emma @elijahs-wife @moon-child-writer @xoxo-nikki-xoxo @njeancastro316

#the originals #the vampire diaries #damon salvatore #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon Salvatore x reader #reader insert #fluff week #Damon Salvatore fics #Damon Salvatore one shot #is this even fluff?#Y'all I'm gonna admit that im having trouble writing this week #Dom does fluff #we'll see how the day goes

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

None shall sleep (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart 3, post Chapter 5 Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.8k, T Summary: In the privacy of the diagnostic's office, Ethan & Noelle reflect on recent changes around them. Category/Warnings: Fluff, None Trope: And there was a bit of Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This chapter reminded me of things that have never been addressed... so this is a story of how things left unsaid all collided in my head. Hope you enjoy.

Also - yes, Ethan Ramsey can sing arias. Is anyone still truly surprised by the fact that this guy can do anything?

There is something mesmerizing about watching the lights of day go out, overpowered by darkness, ablaze with colours - from the depths of blue, through indigo, navy and all the way to pitch-black.

About how, in a sense, it washes away all the bothers and allows you to start anew with the next rise of the almighty sun.

Ethan Ramsey was hoping for this exactly, maybe more than ever, but all the signs showed it wasn’t in the cards for him.

Or at least not today.

He stared into the void, interwoven by occasional human figures passing by through the front lobby. No voices of the day were able to reach him on the 7th floor of his kingdom. Behind the glass wall, he was almost in a different world.

It had been yet another day that brought him more gritted teeth, holding himself back and resigned sighs, than actual satisfaction from helping those who counted on him. All these ‘activities’ were not only annoying but also highly energy-consuming.

Bringing the index and middle fingertips to his pulsating temples, he started to compress and massage them in small circles, trying to soothe the pounding inside his skull. He could hear the blood rushing through the highways of his veins, the sound almost drowning out all external stimuli.

But there were certain sounds his expert ear was trained on, the ones he would’ve recognized even in his sleep.

Like the one reaching his ears right now, the sound of the door handle being pressed.

With his back facing the door, he couldn’t see who was trying to impose on his much-needed solitude. But since the unexpected guest did not precede their ministrations by knocking, the possibilities narrowed down significantly. There were only two people on the premises of Edenbrook who could invade his personal space without a modicum of manners.

“Can I help you?” He modulated his voice to ensure the tone was expressing two things: annoyance and irony in the otherwise polite question.

“I’m sorry.” From all the voices, this one he did not expect to hear now. A melodic tone was joined by a scuffle of retreating steps. “Do you want me to go?”

Ethan curled his lips in a tiny smile. They both knew she wasn’t apologetic and that he wanted anything but her to leave.

“No, it’s just that there are only two people in this hospital that wouldn’t bother knocking and I thought it was one of them paying me a visit.”

“Let me guess… Zaid and Baz?”

“No, but in terms of concept, you were actually close…just another type of evil ‘twins’."

“Oh, you mean his majesty King Bloom & his annoyance Dr Carrick?”

“Even as a joke, it sounds creepy and horrible.”

“Well, count me as a third now. Heads up though, I will only stop knocking after twilight.”

It was clear as crystal Ethan’s already specific sense of humor had less than ever space for amusement.

“I brought you this.” She put a brown paper bag on his desk, which immediately revealed the aroma of something delicious. “I figured you’re probably gonna stay here all night, so I thought I’ll pop over and check on you.”

He didn’t say anything, staring into the darkness. Not because he didn’t want to - he simply didn’t know what. This simple gesture was very touching and filled him with gratitude. But he was lacking the right words.

Then, for the first time since she’s interrupted his train of thought, he turned around to look at her. Tired and with puffy eyes, she’d still put everyone else to shame. Even on the worst of days, the light radiating from her turned heads and made the room brighter.

She extended a hand and when their fingers touched, he felt this weird, tingly feeling that has traveled from his palm, through his arm and neck, and then straight to his core.

Pressing him gently against the edge of the desk, she took his glasses off. Then loosened his tie and nonchalantly disheveled his hair. Ethan wouldn’t let anyone else in the world touch them, let alone put them in a state of such disarray.

With her, all the rules existed only to be broken.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on in this big brain of yours?”

“Smart move, Valentine. You’ve pacified me so that now I will have no choice but to tell you whatever you want to know.”

“You always have a choice, let’s just hope you’re gonna make the right one.”

Ethan nodded, no sound escaping his lips. She knew she’d have to take it upon herself to get any information out of her stubborn converser.

“So, how are you holding up? I want an honest answer."

“I’ve been better.”

“I thought so.”

“It’s just that… Tobias is driving me crazy. His presence really tests my patience… I don’t know if I would’ve stopped myself from punching him had it not been for you.”

“Why thank you, I didn’t know my therapeutic services were that good.”

“They are.” Ethan cleared his throat. “But it’s… not just that.”

Dead silence lingered between them and he knew he had no other choice but to continue.

“The only reason why I haven’t wiped this ridiculous smirk off his face yet is that whenever I look at him, I… I see you in that room with Travis. I’m trying to remind myself that, as much as I hate to admit it, he was crucial to finding the cure on such short notice.”

“Ethan…”

“I already told you” - he interrupted her as if not to stop the words from flowing, afraid they may be trapped forever otherwise - “that there was so much more at stake last time Tobias set foot in Edenbrook.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes going slightly wider.

“The truth is, for me… everything was at stake. I would’ve done anything he’d asked me to, I’d have forgiven him if it meant saving you.”

Elle turned still, all her body movements, her breathing and even her blinking ceased.

It was one of those moments that mean so much but leave you with so little to say.

Using the power of non-verbal communication and their deep affinity, she bestowed on him the most gentle, loving and grateful expression her face could muster after yet another exhausting shift.

Ethan extended his arm and before she realized it, her back was gently pressed to the older doctor’s chest. Having wrapped her slender frame with his broad shoulders, Elle inhaled his familiar aroma. He smelled of comfort and felt like a safe harbor. He nudged her hair with his nose and placed a featherlight kiss on the crook of her neck. She smelled of calmness and felt like coming back home from a long journey.

“So,” - he murmured directly into her ear - “whether you like it or not, I am using you to soften the blow every time I look at Tobias’ face.”

“I think I can live with that.”

“But I can’t guarantee it will always be enough, he is a cocky son of a bitch.”

“Let's make a deal then. I see how much it costs you and I’m not telling you to trust Leland or forgive Tobias, I still believe you should be cautious. Let’s just wait and see where this goes, I think we’ll know sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we should focus on what matters the most, our patients.”

“Where is the deal part?”

“If it turns out you were right, I will hold Tobias and you will punch him. Deal?”

“I believe it should be the other way round. Declan Nash’s face told me your right hook is exquisite, Rookie.”

They both laughed at the memory which seemed so distant now, almost as if it's happened in another lifetime.

But Ethan went quiet again and she felt his body tense up, his arms tightening gently around her. It wasn’t very obvious, but she knew. It still came as a shock how well she actually knew him.

“Ethan? What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Ethan.”

“I’m sorry, I am not the most cheery companion today. You’re probably better off not spending too much time with me before you turn into a cynic.”

“Dr Ramsey, what a pathetic attempt of trying to get rid of me. You’ve never been the most cheerful type and I’ve survived your gloomy companionship, hell, I think it grew on me over time. So I should be ok today, too.”

It looked like silence was very much their third companion today.

“I’m thinking about Francis.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m thinking about how hard it would be not to see. So many beautiful things, colors, all turning into nothingness.”

“I take it you mean the opera?”

“That too, but let’s just say I’ve learned to appreciate things that are right in front of my nose… literally and figuratively.”

The butterflies started somersaulting in her stomach.

“I didn’t want to add more to your plate at the time, but I’ve already felt this way… when we diagnosed Caroline and Leland.”

It was funny that, despite his obvious animosity towards Bloom, whenever his wife was in the picture, he spoke about both in an almost affectionate way. His doctor’s instincts were kicking in, because first and foremost he was a doctor who had his patients’ best interest at heart.

“The thought of not being able to touch you…it reminded me of touching you through the layer of hazmat suit. And now with everything Francis has been through, I just can’t be bothered to think about anything else but you. This is my true personal connection to this case.”

It was her turn to be speechless.

Ethan tightened his grip over her once again, this time protectively rather than out of stress. Slow hum started filling the air, the melody soon joined by lyrics, which he sang in fluent Italian; a private concert, performed for her and her only.

Tu pure, oh Principessa

Nella tua fredda stanza

Guardi le stelle

Che tremano d'amore

E di speranza**

She remembered their patient’s face, which seemed calmer once Ethan started singing the aria before the depths of illness contorted it with pain.

Francis' husband's words echoed throughout her head.

Even though the man holding her in his arms didn’t say it, there was no need.

She knew.

He will always be here.

And she will always be here, too.

-----

** Lyrics - aria "Nessun Dorma" (‘None shall sleep’) from the opera "Turandot".

Translation:

Even you, oh Princess,

In your cold room,

Watch the stars,

That tremble with love

And with hope.

Tag 🔖 list: @starrystarrytrouble @genevievemd @sophxwithers @maurine07 @lovingramsey @iemcpbchoices @oldminniemcg @schnitzelbutterfingers @archxxronrookie @jamespotterthefirst @the-pale-goddess @queencarb @fireycookie @qrkowna @coffeeheartaddict @utterlyinevitable @gryffindordaughterofathena @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @mrs-ramsey @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @mercury84choices @lisha1valecha @lucy-268 @stateofgracious @danijimenezv @alina-yol-ramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #playchoices #ethan x noelle

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

Decisions, decisions.

Stefan Salvatore x reader

Requested by anon “Maybe Stefan and the reader are dating and she is a witch and Klaus forces her to help with something and Stefan tries to convince her it’s not her fault?”

Warning- mentions of blood and violence, some angst, fluff

———-

“Decisions. Decisions.” Klaus rolls off his tongue, not trying so hard to hide the smugness that his smile contained, tapping his fingers on his lips as he slowly circled the kitchen island and made it to your side, smirking wider as Stefan tried his best to protect you. “So little witch, what is it going to be? Choose to save your friend’s lives and do my small favor, or never see your friends, nor Stefan again.”

Klaus’s eyes burn into you as he surprisingly, patiently waits for your decision that he knew was messing with your head.

You don’t even dare look at Stefan, because you knew that one look at him and you’d question your choice. You'd want to be a good person and not be part of the evil that Klaus brought, even if your decision was made without a second thought, you still didn’t want to do Klaus’s evil bidding. It was going to mess with your mind after and that’s what bugged you the most.

“Fine I’ll do it,” you mutter, averting the gaze of your boyfriend. “But this is the last thing I ever do for you Klaus, I’m not some puppet you can string around whenever you want.”

Klaus grins and slams his hands on his table with content, assuring both Stefan and you that he was telling the truth. “I give you my word, little witch, and my dear old friend. This is the last time.” He pushes himself away from the counter and walks around the island, stopping under the doorway with one foot ready to leave as he turns to Stefan and you one last time. “Say your goodbyes...who knows how long we might take. I’ll be waiting by the door.”

You sigh and turn to Stefan, who just looks at you with a soft, pitiful look, he grabs your shoulder and gently strokes it with his thumb. “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

You grab his hand and lean into his touch as he cups your cheek with his other hand. “It’s not that, it’s what he wants me to do, I hate doing things for him, I hate when he dangles your life and our friends lives over me. Especially when he wants me to do something bad.”

“Wells that’s all the time.” Stefan remarks, making you scoff and push him away playfully.

“Not helping.”

Stefan pulls you back to him and kisses your forehead, tilting your head up so you'd meet his gaze. “Whatever he makes you do, I’m here by your side. Okay?”

You offer him a soft smile and nod, wanting to respond but being abruptly cut off. “Today! Enough of that sappy nonsense!”

A groan escapes your lips and you share one last lingering look with Stefan before walking to Klaus. Finding instantly getting rushed away from Stefan's front door and vamped somewhere else, in the middle of nowhere. When you asked what it was you were doing, he only threw you a brief answer that provided nothing but more questions.

And you would’ve insisted for him to go in detail, but the truth was you were scared of the full truth. No matter what, you were going to have to do whatever he asked, or else he’d kill Stefan, Caroline and Bonnie.

So instead you stayed in the dark and chose to just block everything, let it pass in a quick blurry daze and pretend it was a dream, until it was over and you were left on the ground on your knees with tears streaming down your cheeks and blood dripping from your nose.

“Come on, let me take you back home.” Klaus says to you with his hand about to grab your shoulder before he looked up and grinned as if he didn’t just commit anything evil. “Stefan! Always the knight in shining armor! Come to get your girl?”

“What did you do?” Stefan growls.

“Me?” Klaus asks innocently, “nothing.” He then steps aside and lets you come to Stefans view. “I was just going to be a gentleman and take her to you.”

Stefan speeds to fall by your side, grabbing your face to tilt it up and examine it for any possible wounds, his eyebrows furrowing as he sees the blood dripping from your nose, and the blank expression on your face.

“You exhausted her! You could’ve killed her.”

“But I didn’t. She’s okay.” Klaus assured him cockily. “She’s free to go home, and your friends and you don’t have to worry about your lives. Your girlfriend did a good job.”

“Just leave, Klaus!” Stefan exclaims angrily, earning one last chuckle from Klaus before he vamped away. Leaving Stefan and you alone on the field.

“I didn’t want to do it,” you whisper, lifting your gaze to watch as Stefan returns his attention back to you. “It’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t say that,” Stefan assures you softly, “it’s not. You didn’t want to do it.”

“But I did it.” You interject with your voice breaking. “I just gave him more power. More power that he can use to kill you, or our friends. If something happened, I wouldn’t forgive myself.” More tears fell from your eyes and you looked away from the comfort of Stefan's eyes and stood up to try and leave, but Stefan was stubborn to that attempt until he made sure that you weren’t drowning in guilt that shouldn’t even be carried by you.

“But it’s not your fault, y/n.” Stefan continues in an assuring voice, continuing to grab your cheeks and wiping the blood and tears off your face. “You did what you thought was right. You saved our friends, you saved me. If you hadn’t done what he asked, he would’ve done worse, he would’ve killed you. You are not evil, you’re a good person.”

“But,” you mumble, feeling your eyes sting more. You grab his hands and blink to look at his eyes. “I created more evil. I’m just like him.”

“No! You’re not, listen to me, you are not evil, you are far from it,” Stefan strokes your cheek as he continues assuring your worry. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

You answer with silence and let him continue.

“I see someone good, someone I love and would fall in love with in every lifetime.” A smile spreads on his lips and he presses a kiss on your forehead. “I love you, and whatever you do, I’ll support you. Don’t blame yourself for something you were forced to do. You’re a good person.”

A smile finally breaks on your lips and you wrap your arms around him to let him pull you into a comforting embrace. “You’ll love me no matter what?”

“No matter what.” Stefan assures you without hesitation, pressing one last kiss on the top of your head. “Do you want to go home now?”

“Please.”

#the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fancfiction #the vampire diaries imagines #the vampire diaries imagine #stefan salvatore #stefan salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore imagine #Stefan Salvatore imagines #stefan salvatore fanfiction #stefan salvatore fluff #tvd #tvd imagines #tvd imagine #tvd stefan #klaus mikaelson

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cupcakemolotov · 3 years

Text

My Only Love: Part 2

Well, ages later, and I managed this.

When Stefan and Damon find a coffin holding an original, they hope they find an ally. They find Caroline instead. Part 1 on A03

Warnings: Alternate Universe; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; original!caroline; hybrid!Klaus;Canon-Typical Violence; Blood Drinking; Blood and Gore; Character Death (Not OTP); Not Salvatore Friendly; Biting; No Smut Yet

Skirts and nails and lips bloody, her left hand curled carefully around the strange device she had plucked from Stefan’s hand the same way she’d taken his secrets, Caroline swept out of the dank and dreary basement to find just how the world had changed. A hundred years surely had more than one fascinating new thing to marvel at, and she wanted it all.

But mostly she wanted her husband.

It was unfortunate that the house was both astonishing and an utter disappointment. The windows were boarded, and the time-worn furniture and fading curtains were as alien to her as the wide expanse of the rooms. There were no gas lamps or candles here, but strange and delicate things made from blown glass that hung from the ceiling and turned the room nearly noon bright. Some of it was tacky, the colors were atrocious and who picked out those chairs?

Did this modern work not believe in pretty yet comfortable? She was quite certain Klaus had insisted on owning a set of chairs just like those in the 1800s and she hadn’t liked them then either. And what was that fabric?

What kind of place had she been put away to rot?

Outside, she could feel the burn if the sun and frustration clawed at her. When her father-in-law had left her to rot, he’d taken everything he could. Her daylight ring, the pretty jewelry Klaus had gifted her the morning of her abduction, her favorite hair combs. But right then it was the lack of daylight ring she raged at the most.

Caroline stared at what looked to be the front door with impotent longing. Somewhere out there was Klaus, free from the machinations of father who had hunted him all her life and she wanted to see what changes that freedom had wrought, to taste the triumph from his tongue. To feel him beneath her hands, to know they were free.

It'd only been a handful of hours to her memories since she’d seen him last, but she could feel the ache of centuries in her bones. The lack of the man who had stood with his hand curved around hers for all the years of her life. Her nails dug into her palms, gouging little half moons, and she took a slow breath.

Klaus has broken his curse. Mikael was dead, and she knew her husband was hunting for her with the same need that sat in her bones. He’d come to her as soon as he knew she was awake. She’d woken in a world where they’d won. Her lips curved as she recalled Stefan’s words, the angry, bitter pill of her husband’s triumphs clear in his gaze. Below her, she could hear him grieving, the death of brother the song that would usher her into this new existence.

It was fitting she decided, for this young vampire who wished to destroy Klaus to understand the pain he wished her to suffer. He’d wanted her family destroyed, and instead sacrificed his own. She’d leave him that agony for a while yet, her compulsion ensuring he would stay where he was, keeping the cooling corpse of his brother company. Right then, she had something far more important to do.

Carefully, she wiped her fingers clean on the skirt of her dress, mourning the ruined fabric of it even though it was already liberally covered in blood. Stefan had carried no handkerchief to offer her and she had no wish to search the house for something more suitable to wipe her hands on. She’d already seen more than enough of this place, and wished nothing to delay her husband finding her.

Hands mostly clean, she considered the smooth shape of what Stefan had told her was a phone in her hand. A strange, modern device that connected people's voices to voice, sometimes face to face. A wonderful little thing that would bring Klaus to her, when the sun was high in the sky and she had no way to go to him.

It was fascinating. Stefan’s explanation of how to use it and just how radio signals worked had been quite poor, when she wished to know every facet of the device. What kind of world had it become that such fascinating technology should be so badly understood by those who used it?

Klaus would help her learn.

For a moment, her finger hovered over the strange cover, this screen and she let herself wish this reunion would happen when she was a little more composed. A hundred years, and she was dressed in a relic of the past, dust covered and splattered with gore. The gore bothered her less than the dust, the ancient wrinkles she had no way to improve. And what was the point? She planned, hoped to be quite naked very soon.

Pushing aside that niggling vanity, she carefully copied the motions Stefan had shown her to work the phone. Thankfully, English itself hadn’t seemed to have gone through so many changes it was completely unrecognizable, the shape and form of letters familiar even if utterly strange in this… digital format. First, the odd thing he’d called a passcode. Then she found the green box at the bottom with the strange symbol, followed by recent calls.

There it was. His name. Klaus.

Such a simple thing, such a lifetime of need.

Pressing his name, her brows drew down sharply as nothing happened. Muttering under her breath a number of curses at incompetent things, she carefully prodded the screen until something changed. An unexpected jolt of noise startled her, a loud sound that she supposed was ringing. She was going to have to have so much to catch up on.

“Stefan, rethought my offer?”

The sound of Klaus’ voice, so clear and with that soft mix of charm and menace she knew so well, unexpectedly clogged her throat. Fingers flying to her mouth, Caroline swallowed hard. It was one thing to hear that her husband had triumphed, but it was another to hear his voice. To viscerally know that he was alive and if she could just get her voice to work, he’d be here.

“Klaus.” The single word came out rough. There was a sudden, fraught silence, and she wondered if the blasted device had stopped working.

“Who is this?” Klaus’ voice was sharp, dangerously bladed, and her eyes narrowed at the threat she could hear beneath his words.

“I am told,” she said in tones that had cooled considerably. “That you should be able to understand me as easily as I understand you. If you require an introduction to your wife, century between us or not, I am going to be very displeased, Klaus Mikaelson.”

Behind him, there was a crash, a noise that sounded like bone breaking. Her brows furrowed, ears straining to catch any hint of sound. “What was that?”

“Caroline.” Her name was clipped, a thousand things she couldn’t understand in his voice. “Where are you”?

Spine snapping taut in irritation at the blatant order in his voice, the way he ignored her question, her fingers tightened on the screen. “I believe the vampire Stefan called it a boarding house?”

“Stay there.”

Her jaw dropped as there was sudden silence, the screen changing to once again and it occurred to her that he was no longer listening to her. The screen cracked beneath her grip, and she tossed it away. Clearly her husband had forgotten a thing or two in the intervening years such as her dislike of rudeness.

Stay there.

As if she was a minion.

As if they hadn’t seen each other in decades and decades. Blowing out a slow breath, she wrangled her temper. He certainly knew where she was but had given her no indication how long it would take him to reach her. Maybe she should head back downstairs and entertain herself with Stefan until he arrived.

Debating, she blinked when outside, there was a noise, a blur of movement, and then the door opened with a wrench that nearly removed the door from its hinges. Her breath hitched in her throat, and Klaus stared at her from the perimeter of the room, eyes hotly yellow.

His hair was shorn shorter than she’d ever seen it, the cut and make of his clothing as strange and foreign as the wolf in his eyes. But she knew him down to her bones, and she took half a step towards him without thought. But when he continued to just stare at her, to watch her with a carefully set expression, her remembered annoyance sprang to the surface.

Hand sliding to her hip, Caroline stopped moving and narrowed her eyes. Temper and the smallest bit of hurt turned her voice hard. “I cannot believe the very first thing you're making me do after being released from that box is remind you that I am not…”

His face lost its passiveness, something vibrant and wild crossing his face before the distance between them disappeared with the curve of his palm on her jaw, and the press of his mouth, firm and plush and wanting, swallowed her complaint. Hands grasping for the feel of his shoulders, his spine, she pressed back with the same gasping need he always elicited in her, teeth sinking into his lip as both a need to taste and a chastisement for his behavior. He groaned against her mouth, tongue chasing hers as she slicked along the blood, and her head spun as he tangled himself in her skirts as they staggered backwards.

His palm pressed against the back of her skull as he pressed close and her spine hit the wall, so close that hip, thigh and stomach were all one line of burning contact even with her skirts and his clothes between them. There was nothing passive in his touch or kiss as they let mouths and hands roam, and she dug in with her nails, demanding more.

When he pulled back, lingering so they breathed heavily against each other’s mouths, his hand left her face to cup her hip, pulling her even closer. His gaze flickered down the line of her chest, to the blood splattered material that was both his and the other vampires, and his mouth curved slow and pleased before returning to her face. When he spoke, his voice was low and raspy, a thousand benedictions behind his eyes.

“Caroline.”

#my fic #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabble #klaroline #here we go again i think

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raysofcrosby · 3 years

Note

ummm i would love a sneak peak if the au!

hehehe wltay au chapter sneak peek #1 / tw: mentions of abortion

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten her appointment. Just a little over a week ago he’d been sitting across from her as she told him her feared news and then he promised to go with her to her appointment at Planned Parenthood with her before she fell asleep crying in his arms. He was terrified, so he could only imagine how scared she must’ve been– especially when he hadn’t shown up.

God, he hated himself for forgetting. For letting the presence of the Blues players and Coach himself distract him from being able to support her at a time when she no doubtedly needed him most. But he couldn’t help it– the opportunity to workout with current NHL players was there for the taking. And sure he’d done it before since his Dad is who he is, but this was different, so much different. Because he was only a year out from the draft himself. He could practically see himself skating on the ice for his first NHL game.

Which is why he felt so guilty for letting Caroline go alone, even though she said she hadn’t. She might’ve brought Heather into the building and room with her, but Matt was the one she wanted there– she needed there. And he knew it.

After their phone call, Matt kept thinking about it– how he had broken his promise to her about showing up. He’d always been able to keep his promises to her, even all the way in Ann Arbor. He’d promised to go to Junior prom with her, and while Caroline laughed it off, thinking that he was joking...he was buying a plane ticket home.

He tried to keep his focus on working out on the ice with everyone, but the other half of his focus was on Caroline. And how, even though she said it was okay that he forgot and wasn’t there...he knew it wasn’t. So, while taking passes from NHL players, he was thinking about how he could make it up to her. She said she was tired, that she didn’t want to stay up and watch the new episode of 20/20, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have his Dad stop somewhere on the way home so he could grab her a milkshake or some of her favorite ice cream as an ‘I’m sorry, please don’t hate me, I love you’ apology gift.

And he did, he bought her a little chocolate mousse cake he knew that she liked. When he went home, he quickly showered and opted out of dinner, telling his parents he was going over to Caroline’s house. Only when he went over and knocked on the door...it was her Mom that answered. And when he asked if he could see Caroline, she had told him that she wasn’t home, but he could check down the block at Aunt Clara’s rental since she was doing some cleaning and yard work before the new renters were set to move in.

That was weird...when he asked if he could come over to watch 20/20, she said not today and pretty much insinuated that she was too tired and was probably just going to go to bed. Yet...had she gone over to help Aunt Clara with her yard work and house cleaning? Nonetheless, he made his way down the block and knocked on the front door to Aunt Clara’s home. She looked surprised to see him when she answered the door, almost nervous. Which made him nervous.

“Mrs. Susan said Care wasn’t home and to come check over here since you’re in town...can I see her please?” He asked, holding the thawing chocolate mousse container in his hands.

He could see the hesitance in her eyes when she opened her mouth to speak, and for a split second he contemplated cutting her off and asking what was going on and why Caroline was avoiding him. But he didn’t, because Aunt Clara stepped aside, letting him into the house.

“She’s in the master bedroom.” She nodded, closing the door once he walked into the fully furnished house. She led him down the hallway, stopping just before the first guest bedroom and looking at him, a solemn expression on her face. “You two need to talk and I need you to listen to her, okay?”

“Okay...why?” Matt asked, unsure what to make of her ominous warning. Had she known about where Caroline went today? If there was anyone Caroline had told besides him and Heather...it would be Aunt Clara.

Aunt Clara was like her older sister.

“Just...listen to her. Don’t jump to conclusions, don’t get into that on-ice mindset...just listen.” She said, nodding him down the hall.

He walked towards the master bedroom, looking back at Aunt Clara again as she walked out into the living room, before knocking on the bedroom door.

“I’m fine, Aunt Clara.” Caroline spoke, sounding anything but fine.

Matt opened the door slowly, peeking his head in to see Caroline lying down in the bed beneath the sheet and comforter, her back facing him. Aunt Clara, whenever she was in town and cleaning up the house, always stayed here herself since it was cheaper and right down the block from her family. So it wasn’t a surprise that Caroline was so comfortable lying beneath the fresh sheets and blanket.

He slid into the room through the cracked open door, shutting it behind him as he walked towards the bed. “Care?”

She froze, her shoulders stopping mid breath as he moved closer to the bed, yet she still kept her back to him. “I’m tired, Matty.”

“I know...I just wanted to bring you something, but your Mom said you might be down here and Aunt Clara let me in,” he placed the plastic container down on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed, turning towards her. “She said that we needed to talk...but I–I’m not sure what about, Care.”

He keeps his eyes on her, she still hasn’t rolled over to look at him or even moved in general. He heard her start to sniffle and he crawled over to her, holding himself up on his left elbow as he laid behind her, resting his right hand on her arm. “I-I’m sorry.” She sniffled again, wiping at her face with her hands.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, rubbing her arm. “I’m so confused right now, between Aunt Clara and you, I...I don’t know what to think. What’s going on?”

“I lied to you...earlier on the phone. I told you I–” She took a deep, shaky breath and then exhaled, keeping her back to him still. “Matt...I’m pregnant, the test was positive.”

He sat back, rolling off of his side as his hand fell from her arm as it was as if his last breath had been sucked right out of him. “W-What? But you said–”

“I lied,” she replied, speaking softly. “I lied because I–I…” she let out a shaky breath again, and then another sniffle.

“Caroline, bab–” he paused, swallowing back the rest of the word ‘baby’ because he didn’t want to say it, he didn’t even want to think about it. “Please roll over….”

Pregnant. She was pregnant. They were 17 and going to be parents to another human being...a baby.

After wiping at her face again, Caroline rolled over onto her right side, resting her arms up by her head as she looked at him. He could tell she’d been crying for God knows how long. Her eyes were swollen and red, the tip of her nose and her cheeks were red as well. Not to mention the dried streaks old tears had left behind.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Care?” He asked, crawling beneath the sheets and comforter before sinking down into the mattress and draping his left arm over her, pulling her into his side. “Why did you tell me the test was negative?”

“Because I...I’m not keeping it,” she whispered, her bottom lip quivering as she looked up at him. “And I didn’t want you to stay behind and be late going up to Ontario.”

He wasn’t sure how to feel, hearing her make that decision without him. Sure, he would’ve done whatever she wanted to do, because it is her body, but it was also half of his baby...and he wasn’t sure how he felt about not being able to grieve that loss if she had done it without him. But more importantly...he didn’t want her to go through that alone.

No one should ever have to go through that alone or make that decision alone. Not at seventeen, not ever.

“I wouldn’t have been mad,” he whispered, his left thumb brushing against her shoulder. “If you would’ve told me you were pregnant on the phone. I want to be with you Care, every step of the way, no matter what you decide you want to do. You just have to be honest with me.”

She nodded, pressing her head further into his chest. “I ran out of my appointment,” she sniffled, brushing her hand up beneath his shirt and rubbing her left thumb against his torso. “The doctor came in, said I was pregnant and it was like I blacked out. She started talking about options and wanting to do an ultrasound to see how far along I was and I...I just ran out.”

He wrapped his right arm around her, rolling her on top of him, his right hand brushing up her shirt as his thumb brushed against the small of her back. “I’m sorry for forgetting,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I never wanted you to go alone...you shouldn’t have had to do that alone.”

She slid both of her arms underneath his back, wrapping him in a hug as she pressed her right ear against his chest, easily hearing his heartbeat. “I was so scared,” she whimpered, tears burning in her eyes. “There were protesters on the street a-and I had to get escorted in and–”

“Did any of them say anything to you?” He asked, his voice stern as he looked towards her for a reaction.

“No, no...they were outside the property. So if they were yelling at me, I wasn’t sure...there were multiple people being escorted.” She replied, turning towards him and resting her chin on his chest. “And being in that room...filling out the paperwork, answering all of their questions and ugh, even peeing in the cup...I just, I felt…”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned, squeezing her lightly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Caroline. I should’ve been there and I’m so mad at myself for forgetting about it.”

“It’s okay, Matty,” she whispered, her hazel eyes brimmed with tears. “It’s your future, I understand.”

He opened his mouth to speak, to oppose her self-made excuse for him...but he couldn’t. Because it is his future. A future he’s dreamed about since before he could even remember. A future that he always planned on sharing with her. And depending on how their current situation plays out...a future that could mean the absolute difference in their lives in terms of support.

“I have to go back,” she said, bringing her left arm up from beneath him and wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “I have to have an ultrasound so they can figure out how far along I am and...and what options I have.”

He nodded, bringing his right hand out from beneath her shirt and cupping the right side of her face, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Okay, I’ll be there. Hell, we can even spend the night here or something, that way you know I’ll be there. I’ll drive.”

She laughed, her lips quivering again as she nodded, tears brimming in her eyes once more. “I’d love that...please.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away a falling tear. “I’ll be right there with you.”

He leaned his head forward and kissed her before letting his head rest back into the pillow, his hand brushing through her hair as she rested her head on his chest. With her head resting against his chest, he knew he was out of her eyesight and the calm demeanor he’d managed to keep on his face, quickly fell. His eyebrows furrowed, his nose would scrunch and his lips twitched, all in an attempt to stop himself from letting that burning feeling in his eyes win.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t just seen their dreams and futures going down the drain, he totally did. How the hell were they supposed to raise and parent a baby when they were only seventeen? The two had just gotten grounded not too long ago when they were at the beach house in Florida because they failed to come back at curfew, too busy sitting out on the beach alternating between making out and staring up at the night sky, talking about the future.

A future where he’d be off in his rookie year in the NHL, hopefully close by to her at Boston, where she’d be playing field hockey for the next four years and working on her Bachelors. And in the summers, they’d fly back home together and spend those months together and with their families before jetsetting back to Boston in the fall. And not that she knew this part, but by graduation, he hoped to have saved enough money to buy her an engagement ring worthy of her and that showed just how important she was to him. She’d go to grad school and when she finished, they’d get married that offseason and who knows, maybe start a family soon after like his parents had done.

It was his six, almost seven year plan.

But it seemed as if they’d skipped those very important first few steps that was going to be the platform of the foundation his plan sat on– because suddenly, 23 or 24, newly married and maybe starting a family, turned into seventeen and expecting a baby. No college degrees, no NHL salary, no engagement ring– nothing. Life literally laughed in their faces and said, ‘hey, here’s a baby instead, enjoy!’

#frederickanderson #answered #wltay

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fieldsofmoonshine · 3 years

Text

Remember Me

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Warning: funeral, cancer, death

Notes: this is kinda sad boi hour, elijah spends the day remembering you after you’ve died kinda thing

Word Count: 2064

Elijah leaned against the doorway, watching as you were listening to music loudly in your earphones while putting on makeup. Your mouth as slightly opened as you focused on applying your mascara, flinching every time you brought the tip closer to your eye.

The bright yellow sundress you had picked out for the day still hung on the wardrobe door as Elijah woke up, the suit he was wearing had for a second left red indentations on his skin which healed as he stood up. His eyes stopped at the dress, a sudden wave of feelings weighing down over his chest, knowing that you’d never get to wear it again.

Elijah walked over to the dress his hand bunching the fabric tightly in his hand while he smelled it, closing his eyes as he could recognize your perfume still present in the fabric.

You were sitting in a bench, leaning your head back to look at the sky, the sky was painted in a strong red burn mixed with the white and pink clouds it looked like a painting. Elijah was sitting beside you, one hand thrown around your neck like a pillow while he looked at you, smiling at your amazement at the sky.

“Don’t you two look disgustingly happy,” Klaus strolled into the courtyard with a grin as he watched you two. “Never seen a sky before Y/N?”

“Fuck off,” you answered, not even looking at him.

“I think you’re adorable,” Elijah stated and leaned down to place a kiss against your now blushing cheek.

“Fuck off,” you repeated, this time a mumble as you looked at Elijah.

“I’d prefer not,” he answered. “You could come with me.”

“As I said, disgusting,” Klaus muttered as he watched you blush deeper but answered with a yes, following him up to his room. “At least lock the door this time!”

“Elijah?” Freya knocked on his door, she sounded hesitant, saddened as she waited for a few seconds before opening the door. “Are you coming?”

“This is what she wanted,” Elijah told Freya absently while keeping his eyes on your dress. “The party, the people, down to every little pebble... I want to honor her wish— but all I truly want is to stay right here and bury myself in her dresses and shirts and every stupid little thing she left here.”

“We miss her too, and honestly I’m pretty sure none of us wants to celebrate her death,” Freya stepped inside and placed a arm around Elijah’s shoulder, which he didn’t even react to. “But she told us— very clearly— that we can cry and be miserable at any time but not today, she wanted us to remember her as she was—“

“Happy, fearless, smoking a cigarette while looking at the man she loved after a good round in the hay,” Elijah continued and chuckled slightly. “I don’t want to forget it, that feeling of being loved by her... it’s something extraordinary about it, like you’re drowning and she just pulls you up and you never want to be without her again, yet here I am.”

“Come on, if we leave now I won’t tell Nik you’re wearing the same suit as yesterday,” Freya teased him, noticing the small tug of his lips as he nodded wrapping an arm around Freya’s waist. “He’s been drinking, I never thought they were that close.”

“Niklaus has a funny way of showing he cares, with her I guess it was by endlessly mocking her,” Elijah looked down the hall with a frown. “You know, he fought harder about treatment with her than I did, he said something about making sure she’d be Izzie Stevens. How she’d managed to get him to watch Grey’s Anatomy I never understood.”

Freya chuckled lightly and stroked his arm as Elijah let go of her. “One day, Elijah, than we’ll mourn.”

Elijah sat beside you, looking at the wall above the doctors head, scanning some of the documents. You had been in for a regular check up and mentioned some recurring headaches after a fall down the stairs, (which was actually you ending up in the crossfire of some vampires arguing), and after some testing and scans you had been told to call someone, if you needed it. And you called Elijah, thinking it’d be something like a concussion and you’d need a ride, but no instead you two had been taken to meet an oncologist.

“How long do I have?” Elijah was torn from his focus on the wall. “It’s bad right? You have that look in your eye, like she’s only started her life and now she’ll die, so how long? Five years?” The doctor was about to answer but you cut her off again. “It’s shorter, right? Three? Two? Do I even have one?”

“With treatment, statistics give you a year, some live five but—“

“I am dying, anyways?” You filled in, getting a nod in response. “What’s the treatment?”

“We start with surgery, then chemotherapy and you’ll have to take medication,” you looked over at Elijah who had placed his hand on yours squeezing tightly, you imagined he wasn’t really listening anymore either. Vampires, werewolves, witches, hybrids, ex’s. Somehow you two had been through it all together yet neither of you had thought of this, a glioblastoma. A brain tumor.

“And this will give me, a year?” You asked.

“Some get more some less.”

“My grandmother died from cancer, when I was 15,” you leaned back slightly. “The last thing I told her was that she looked sick, and she answered that she was and that she’d wished she had rejected the treatment because she would die anyways. All she wanted was a little more time— I’ve had time and if I get a year where I can’t really live, I’d rather go sooner.”

“Perhaps you two should take some time to discuss—“

“No,” you answered, squeezing Elijah’s hand to get his attention back to where it belonged. “I’ve decided. Do I need to sign something?”

“Yes, a few papers...”

Klaus had saved seats for Elijah and Freya at the front, looking as miserable as Elijah felt even though Klaus had clearly attempted to clean up for the moment. People were chattering amongst themselves while waiting for the priest.

“I can’t believe she chose a service after all,” Klaus muttered and looked at Elijah who shrugged.

“It’s for appearances, she said something about wanting to be the talk of the town and all her friends and family who hadn’t spoken to her since she moved away from Mystic Falls,” Elijah told him and nodded towards the cluster of Mystic Falls residents sitting on the other side of the church. “She wanted to for once outshine Elena Gilbert and her main character aura.”

Klaus chuckled slightly and looked towards your coffin and shook his head. “I loved her, even though I never told her or you— she was the girl who always saw me as family and the only one I will ever approve for you.”

“She loved you too, that she did tell me,” Elijah informed him and a fond smile spread over his lips. “Sometimes she’d say that had you only been a brunette I’d have a run for my money.”

“I knew she had a thing for brunettes!” Klaus smiled as he looked over at his brother. “Brunettes, suits, and impeccable taste in wine...”

“The ideal man,” Elijah sighed. “I—“

The sound of people talking stopped as a priest walked up to the middle of the church and looked out over the people.

“Today, we have gathered here not to mourn, but to celebrate and honor the life of Y/N Y/L/N...”

You ran down the stairs while holding your hand over your mouth, Klaus and Freya both looked at you as you passed them before making it to the bathroom. The sound of you hulking over the toilet followed only seconds later.

“Y/N?” Freya came after you and gathered your hair in her hands, rubbing your back soothingly. “Should we call Elijah?”

“No, no,” you dismissed her and felt the tears gather in your eyes. “I sent him on Hope duty, he needed some distraction.”

“Do you need painkillers? It’s your cramps right?” Klaus asked from outside, already holding the pills in his hand.

“No, it’s not,” you answered and looked away from the toilet while flushing, the tears were starting to run down your face as you grabbed paper to wipe around your mouth. “I’m sick...” they both nodded, thinking you were getting the flu or a stomach virus. “Cancer, I’ve got cancer,” Klaus stared at you while Freya stopped moving, her hand slowly falling from your back. “Brain cancer actually, which is kinda ironic seeing as we always say I don’t have one.”

“How long?” Klaus asked as he lowered his hand to his side.

“Have I known or how long?” You asked but got no answer as he only looked at you. “Elijah and I were at the hospital two weeks ago, and three to twelve months. Maybe more maybe less...”

“And the treatment, how have you been hiding it?” Klaus asked as you stood up from the bathroom floor and sat down on the toilet with a hesitant frown. “You’re not? You’re not getting treatment?”

“No, it’d would give me a few months in best case but I’ve seen what happens when on chemo, I won’t live a few extra months only to be around,” you told him and felt your heart drop as Klaus only walked away, throwing the painkillers on the ground as he did so.

Damon Salvatore might be the most annoying person on this earth, Elijah thought as he sat in a corner of the room decorated for a party and some were enjoying it to the fullest, like Damon Salvatore. Why Elijah hadn’t killed him? No idea, he should’ve, Elijah thought, back when he had the chance and reason to. Elijah diverted his eyes to the scene where a band was playing as Caroline climbed onto the stage, holding a white letter in her hand.

“Hello, I know most of you don’t know me but my name’s Caroline, I grew up with Y/N and well she was an amazing person,” Caroline smiled nervously as she looked around. “We hadn’t talked in a while when she got sick but when she did she asked me to do something for her, so I am, she asked me to play a recording tonight, so yeah, here it is.”

A click came from the speakers as Caroline connected her phone to them before your voice started streaming from it.

“Hello? I think this is working, it should be. I just wanted to let you all know that I love you, even Klaus, and I want to take one last chance to remind myself,” you cleared your throat, and when you spoke again it was clear you were crying. “remind myself, and everyone else, that being loved in a way that I’ve been by all of you— and mostly Elijah, is something I will never be able to express how thankful I am... so yeah, that’s all, I love you.”

“Dance with me,” you grabbed Elijah’s hand and pulled him of the couch with a smile. Elijah didn’t want to, you knew he didn’t want to but you wanted to, you needed to. Somewhere in the back of your head you knew you wouldn’t get to dance with him next week at the anniversary party you had planned. “I love you.”

“Stop,” Elijah whispered against your ear. “You don’t get to say that yet.”

“I just want you to know that,” you answered, he and you both knew it was more than that. “And you need to know—“

“I don’t need to know anything,” Elijah cut you off. “Not yet, it’s been three months. Not a year.”

“I love you, and when I’m gone, you get to move on,” you stated and swallowed the tears from your voice. “Because you I love you, and you me. You get to move on.”

Elijah didn’t answer, he only stopped dancing and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You felt the first tear drop from his eyes on your head and with a gentle smile you looked up at him, kissing his cheek.

“I love you.”

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #one shot #tvdu #klaus mikaelson x reader #freya mikaelson x reader #sad #angst #memories #elijah mikaelson one shot

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shelby-love · 4 years

Text

STEFAN SALVATORE

Safely His

Requested: no

Prompts: none

Warnings: A bit harsh in the beginning (angsty)

Authors note: This is my first time writing a TVD oneshot. I'm sailing into the unknown and expanding my vocab yaay.

You walk out of the Grill on unsteady feet. The celebration round of alcohol you shared with Bonnie and Caroline made you tipsy but not tipsy enough for you not to be able to make your way back home.

You lean against the wall and fish out your phone. The light from your phone blinds you for a second before you turn it down and make out the numbers that indicate what time of the day it is. 11:23 P.M.

Not bad Y/N. Not bad at all.

Slowly but surely you're in front of your car with car keys still at the bottom of your purse.

"Maybe if you weren't such a lightweight drinker then you would be able to find your damn keys Y/N." You huff at yourself. When it comes to alcohol you should never ever be left unsupervised.

"Looking for something?" Someone asks from behind you. You freeze and stop rummaging through your purse. Instead, you grab the bottle spray with liquid vervain inside. It's kind of like your own pepper spray.

It works on both humans and the supernatural world you've come to learn about once the Salvatore brothers moved back to your hometown, Mystic Falls.

"Nope." You're quick to replay. Just as your brain commands your body to turn around the mistery person unleashes their inner beast onto you.

You're pinned against your own car with your mouth covered by the vampire's own hand. Your purse and the bottle of vervain dropped to the floor in the quick spur of motion.

"I'll have a great time with you." He whispers against your ear, his beard scraping the side of your face and sending chills of fear down your back. You've never felt this alone and cornered in your life. "I can smell your fear girl... But your blood is calling me more. It's such a shame you spiked it with alcohol. Now you'll have to pay for it in a different way."

The meaning of his words would've been confusing to you had you not learned about vampires from your own vampiric friends. You now knew exactly what he meant.

He was going to turn you.

Not because you deserved it or wanted it. But because of the fact that he was obsessed with this newfound power of his. This ability to take away someone's choice. To make them miserable for the rest of their lives.

He flushed you against his chest and sped over to the nearest lone spot he could find. A spot that would be private enough until he made you drink his blood and snapped your neck.

Fighting against him is impossible. Screaming is impossible because no one was around to save you.

Hoping that Caroline hears your whimpers of pain while she's surrounded by booze and music is already too much for you.

It's going to happen. And it's going to happen now.

You watch as he bites into his wrist and before you even get to let out a sound, his hand is replaced by his bloody wrist.

You refuse to let the blood travel past your tounge but he's twisting your throat in a way that makes you gag and swallow the blood immediately in order to release the pressure.

When he stops you close your eyes and wait for your neck to be snapped.

Instead, the man is no longer on you and instead he's on the ground. Bloody and neck snapped 90 degrees.

Your eyes search for your savior and you almost collapse in relief when Stefan appears in front of in a flash. Even in the night you can make out his features.

His hero-like hair, his dark eyes and beautiful facial features you learnt to adore from all the time you spent with him.

Your heart skips a beat and you allow him to cup your face into his hands. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner."

You shake your head and throw your arms around him. After nesting your hand into the safety of the crook of his neck you allow yourself to be carried away to safety whilst whispering soft words of gratitude to the vampire.

***

You wake up in a place that's not your room and the more you look around the more you realised that you were in this room before.

This is Stefan's room.

You never really slept in his bed. Although you wanted to. The crush you had on Stefan was developing more and more as your friendship grew.

The sound of footsteps nears the room and you feel butterflies rise in your belly.

But then your eyes land on Damon and all the buttetflies leave in an instant.

"What do you want Damon?"

He smirks before fully leaning against the doorframe, his magically blue eyes taking in the sight of you in his little brother's bed. "Well...I heard about your little misfortune that happened yesterday. Thankfully my heroic little bro saved you and brought you here... To his room... So sorry if I'm a little bit surprised."

"Damon please leave her alone." You hear Stefan's voice.

"Whaat?" He acts fake surprised before smirking once again and wiggling his eyebrows for effect. "And leave her here to your mercy? No can do bro."

"Damon..."

"Alright, alright!" He throws looks between you and Stefan, who's hidden behind him. "I'll let you two lovebirds be."

When blush appears on your cheeks at his words, Damon takes it as a win. He mouths, you're whipped, before leaving you alone.

"How are you feeling?" Stefan comes inside the room with a cup of water in his hand and a painkiller in his other. He takes a seat next to you on the bed and hands you the water and painkiller.

"Better. Stefan, thank you..." You try to find the right words because saying thank you without any other words feels not good enough. But there aren't any other words than those two simple ones.

After all of the more dangerous things you've been through with your friends, this is the first time you felt truly scared for your own life. There aren't no words with which you would express your gratitude to him.

"You don't have to thank me Y/N." He replies simply and sits closer to you on the bed. When he places a hand over your and you don't pull it away, something in him switches. But in a good way. A very good way. "I don't want you to go through that ever again. No one should have to go through that."

It pained him to see you like this. It pained him to see you anything other than happy. It took him a near death experience with you to finally come to the conclusion that his feelings need to be out in the open. He knew that he wouldn't really loose you if you were changed last night but it didn't matter. You were going to be something he never wanted you to be unless you wanted it. And he knew you didn't want it.

"How did you know where I was?" You ask, unsure of that piece of puzzle.

Stefan shakes his head laughing. That part had to come out sooner or later.

"Caroline was very open about being drunk with you. And I know that your alcohol tolerance is..." He catches himself when he sees the murderous look you sent him. Any word other than horrible was going to work. "better than bad... So I guess I just wanted to make sure you got home safely."

You melted right then and there. He cares about me.

"And then I found your stuff on the floor. Including the vervain pepper-spray," He chuckles. "the rest you know."

"You really are a hero." You tell him laughing.

A somewhat awkward silence consumes the air around you as the two of you stay silent after your little remark.

"Stefan." ; "Y/N." Both of you speak up at the same time. Wierdly enough it brings a smile to both of your faces.

"You go first. I want to know your thoughts." You admit shyly.

Your words only make him scoot over on the bed until he's that much closer to you. "You want to know my thoughts? I want to kiss you right now."

And he does so. He cups your face in for a kiss you imagined a thousand times. He waits for you to return it and show him it's okay for him to do this.

And so you do.

You return it with the same passion, lulling him into it until you're both completely lost in each other. It's passionate and real. It's easily fifty times better than what your realest dreams could ever give you. It's a promise of love and safety. From Stefan to you and right back from you to him.

You forget about the world around you. The room, the day, the time and the event of last night leaves your mind completely. You occupy your thoughts with Stefan Salvatore. The guy that became your friend before he became your lover.

He pulls away just enough to look at your eyes and whisper. "You are something entirely else."

"Is that a good thing?" You whisper back in the same daze as he did.

"The best." And with that the last of his control breaks and he freely kisses you again and again after that. Making you feel amazing all over.

The next time someone tries to touch you in any way other than to shake your hand, things might get a bit messier than before.

Because you're completely and utterly safe now.

MASTERLIST

#stefan salvatore #stefan salvatore imagine #stefan salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries fanfiction

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riversofmars · 3 years

Text

So for today's update, seeing as I'm trying to give all my WIPs equal love: back to the headmistress and her sheep farmer! Here is part two! <3 Weather continues to be shite in West Yorkshire, hope it's better where you are!

Rating M (language and sexual themes)

TW: reference past abuse (but not a lot)

Read below or on AO3

Home Is Not A Place - Part 2: The Storm

“F-Bloody cold, bastard weather,“ Gillian groaned as she slammed the door shut. It had been storming all day, and she was soaked to the bone from being out on the farm.

“Gillian?“ Caroline appeared in the hallway, mug in hand and wrapped in a large woolly poncho. It was Saturday and she was counting her blessings that she had no reason to leave the house. Flora was staying with Greg in Manchester this weekend, and Raff and Ellie were spending the weekend with Ellie’s mother who was helping them house-shop. With Gillian out on the yard, Caroline had been left to enjoy the peace and quiet and taken the opportunity to catch up on her reading in front of the fire. At least that’s what she had been doing until she had been interrupted by the sheep farmer’s return and her colourful curses.

“Don’t even f-bloody say anything!“ Gillian snapped, peeling off her coat which had done sweet fuck all to protect her from the rain.

“For God’s sake, Gillian,“ Caroline chose to comment - regardless of her warning - upon realising the state she was in. Gillian’s hair stuck to her cheeks that were red from the cold, and her clothes were dripping. “What have you been doing?“ Caroline demanded to know and picked up the coat that Gillian had abandoned on the floor in her stroppy mood. She followed the sheep farmer into the living room and put the coat over a chair by the fire.

“Bloody foxes bothering sheep again,“ Gillian huffed, and the frequency of her curses told Caroline everything she needed to know about her mood.

“And that couldn’t have waited till the storm had passed?“ Caroline crossed her arms in front of her chest, like she might with an unruly student she expected an explanation from.

“Can’t do with losing any more to ‘em,“ Gillian mumbled, dropping her scarf onto the chair with the coat, but avoided meeting the headteacher’s eyes. She knew she was right. She should have come back inside upon finishing all the strictly necessary tasks and not faffed about going after a fox that she still hadn’t managed to shoot.

“You’re gonna catch your death, if you’re not careful,“ Caroline scolded, willing her voice to remain steady and not get distracted when Gillian pulled her shirt off revealing a tank top that clung to her body. Her shoulders were strong, despite her small frame, from years of working on the farm. Caroline wondered what it would be like to hold on to them if Gillian decided to put her strong hands to good use.

“What? And leave you in charge of farm, don’t think so. Gonna take a bit more than a storm to knock me out, you should know that by now.“

“I do know that, yes,“ Caroline had to agree. Her period of peace and quiet was over. Gillian was like a whirlwind of chaos and emotion but Caroline couldn’t pretend to be annoyed by that anymore. “Get yourself changed and sit by the fire, I’ll put the kettle on,“ she announced after brief consideration. “I’m not nursing you when you can’t get out of bed.“

“Oh that’s a shame, when nothing would make me happier than you waiting on me hand and foot,“ Gillian smirked and Caroline rolled her eyes.

“I bet,“ she huffed and made her way to the kitchen, allowing herself a moment to contemplate how nice it might be to dap a cold flannel to Gillian’s brow and smooth her hair behind her ears… She indulged the fantasy for the time it took her to fill the kettle with water and set it to boil. Then she glanced over into the living area and her heart nearly stopped. She gave a completely undignified squeak that drew Gillian’s attention, so she quickly followed it up with: “Jesus, Gillian, talk about boundaries!“ She couldn’t very well just remain standing there, watching Gillian strip down to her underwear, without shooting a suitably shocked comment her way.

“Shit, Caroline, I thought you’re making tea,“ the sheep farmer exclaimed, which was rich considering the fact that the living and cooking area were connected. She reached for a t-shirt to cover herself up but Caroline couldn’t pull her eyes off her the whole time.

“It’s open-plan!“ Caroline exclaimed, mortified, and Gillian huffed as she turned around, fishing for dry trousers in a pile of clean washing that had been dumped onto one of the sofas and was to be ironed at a later date. This, of course, required her to bend over, and Caroline watched with fascination and dread as she did so. Inwardly, the headteacher reprimanded herself, sternly, for the thoughts that crossed her mind. She was determined that she would not, under any circumstances, share them with anyone or ever act upon them. She wasn’t sure whether that made it better or worse.

“I couldn’t be arsed to go upstairs when there’s a pile of ironing right here,“ Gillian was quick to justify herself as she pulled on a pair of jeans and struggled to do so as her skin was still damp.

“You never lock the door either, anyone could have walked in.“ Caroline gestured towards the front of the house, trying to distract herself from her intrusive thoughts.

“Everyone is out, and our parents would have rung first if they wanted to pop round,“ Gillian shot back quickly and turned to face her again once halfway decent.

“Right,“ Caroline huffed, fully aware she had lost the argument and turned back to the kitchen to carry on making the tea and distract herself of the image of Gillian’s lean frame, water glistening on her toned stomach and soft curve of her breasts and… Well, Caroline wasn’t exactly distracting herself from it, she committed it to memory, allowing herself a moment to appreciate it in the privacy of her own mind.

“Sorry I’m… guess, I’m still not quite used to you being here all’t time,“ Gillian’s voice drew her back to the present. Caroline looked back around to find Gillian glancing across the room to her, her brow knitted into a frown of concern. It was that frown that she made whenever she wondered if she had done something wrong. Perhaps she wondered if she had made Caroline uncomfortable, rather than aroused.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m not… trying to make you uncomfortable in your own home,“ Caroline was quick to respond. If anything, she should be the one apologising to her for ogling her the way she had.

“Our home. Halfsies, remember?“ Gillian gave her a hopeful smile that made Caroline’s heartbeat a little fast.

“Right…“ She responded with a smile of her own and finished preparing the mugs. “Here… I put some brandy in it,“ she explained as she returned to the living area and handed over the hot drink.

“Now, this is why I like having you 'round,“ Gillian grinned as they both dropped onto the sofa in front of the fire.

“Because I drive you to drink?“ Caroline chuckled and Gillian laughed:

“Because you drive me to drink with someone, not by meself.“ She took a sip of the tea that warmed her insides quickly, and silence fell between them as they watched the fire. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, far from it. They each turned to their thoughts, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the drink as well as - certainly in Caroline’s case, she couldn’t speak for Gillian - each other’s company.

“Does it surprise you?“ Caroline asked after a while, her eyes resting on the sheep farmer’s strong hands wrapped around her mug.

“What?“ Gillian asked, taking a sip, glancing at her expectantly.

“How well this is working?“ Caroline clarified, and Gillian chuckled:

“Should it?“

“No! No…no I mean… it was a bit of a rash decision, fuelled in no small measure to spite my mother…and yes, there are advantages to it, yes, sure, but… I expected it to be… harder,“ Caroline admitted thoughtfully. This, of course, made things difficult for her to keep straight in her head. Her attraction towards Gillian wasn’t new, it had developed over time and intensified in the last few years since she had moved out into the countryside herself. She had never paid much heed to it. There was just something about the sheep farmer, there always had been. It was evident by the sheer number of suitors she acquired. Given Caroline’s interest in women, she had merely assumed that she wasn’t immune to whatever it was. Her feelings towards Gillian hadn’t factored into her decision to move in together. It genuinely had seemed like the right decision for both of them and it was proving to be just that. Whatever concern Caroline may have had given that attraction, she had assumed that it would fade given time. Surely, living with Gillian - her mess, her moods, her… well, everything - was bound to put her off and end that idealised fantasy she had dreamed up in her head. Sadly, the opposite had occurred. While there were times where they still wound each other up, all things considered, being close to Gillian had made her realise how much she adored everything about her. Even the things she had expected she would hate. Now, all she could do was ignore her feelings and hope they would pass eventually. She would have to apply one of her mother’s approaches to problems: if you don’t talk about them, they don’t exist.

“Are you saying you expected me difficult to be round?“ Gillian smirked, never missing an opportunity to tease her.

“No! No! Well, yes, but not like…“ Caroline started and stopped herself when she realised what she was saying. She had been too preoccupied contemplating her crush on her, to mind her words.

“Keep digging,“ Gillian grinned, while clearly not taking offence, not really, anyway.

“No, I’m just… it’s nice,“ Caroline exclaimed, hoping to put the matter to bed. Not unlike she would have hoped to bed the sheep farmer but that was a different, none-existent matter that she wouldn’t talk about. “And I would have hoped it would be but… it’s nice to have it confirmed.“

“I like having you around,“ Gillian was more to the point than Caroline’s babbling mess of a statement.

“Even if I’m a snotty bitch?“ Caroline felt they were entering safer waters again.

“Particularly 'cause you’re a snotty bitch, you give the place a certain measure of class,“ Gillian laughed.

“A sheep farm with class?“

“A sheep farm with class,“ Gillian repeated with a nod. “It’s certainly stopped Cheryl trying to pick on us… and that new guy from ‘cross the moor stopped dropping by unannounced, he were a right pain.“ She grimaced at the memory of it.

“Think he had a bit of a thing for you,“ Caroline chuckled, contemplating the matter. Of course he did, show me one person attracted to women who doesn’t have a thing for Gillian bloody Greenwood, Caroline thought miserably.

“Well, he can fuck off with his fancy arse yellow tractor,“ Gillian huffed.

“Bit of a statement that, isn’t it.“

“You think?“

“Yes, like a peacock, flashing his feathers,“ Caroline mused, remembering him popping by the farm in it at one point. At the very least it had been great entertainment for Flora and Calamity but only until the point where they had started making fun of it, embarrassing them in front of what could have been a perfectly nice new neighbour.

“He were well confused when you opened door to him in your nighty that one time,“ Gillian grinned and Caroline feigned outrage.

“Well, he shouldn’t have called at bloody 10 o’clock at night, should he?“

“Probably hoping I’d invite him in, weren’t he.“ Gillian rolled her eyes.

“He must have heard of your stellar reputation,“ Caroline hummed into her tea, contemplating the matter that she was probably the envy of most of the male population of West Yorkshire when it came to “staying over at Gillian’s“. Shame it didn’t entail the same benefits for her that it had for many men in the past.

“Old Gillian would’ve,“ the sheep farmer mused, driving the point home painfully.

“He wasn’t even a looker,“ Caroline exclaimed, trying her best to keep her jealousy in check.

“Don’t have to look at his face if he has other qualities,“ Gillian shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Ew.“ Caroline contemplated adding some more brandy to her tea if the conversation was going to carry on the way it was. She glanced at the window. The rain hadn’t stopped, if anything, the storm was only getting worse, and there was absolutely no reason to be leaving the house. So what if it was only 11am? The brandy was tempting.

“You used to shag John, you can’t be that repulsed by it.“ Gillian demanded her attention with a knowing smirk.

“I liked John… for a time, loved him even, so I got over it but now… don’t think I could go back, honestly, I just… like women too much, should have stuck with them after uni,“ Caroline stated.

“That would have spared us the indignity of me shagging your ex-husband,“ Gillian had to admit.

“Ah, but then, we would have missed out on so much fun,“ Caroline elbowed her.

“Sorry… again… about all that,“ Gillian responded with a moment of sincerity while nursing her tea.

“It’s forgotten. If John could see us now, living together, his head would explode,“ the headteacher chuckled. “God knows what he’d presume was going on…“

“Hm… what indeed,“ Gillian hummed and Caroline struggled to interpret her response to an off-hand comment she already regretted making. Before she could attribute more meaning to it, Gillian concluded: “Men are idiots, aren’t they?“

“I have been saying this for some time.“ Caroline nodded with a smirk.

“Is it easier?“ Gillian asked, after finishing her drink in one final gulp.

“What?“ Caroline frowned, needing her to be more specific, and the sheep farmer took a moment to provide context, seemingly a little insecure.

“Dating… you know… women?“

“Oh. Uh- well, depends on the woman. Whether you have the same interests, want the same things out of life…“ Caroline suddenly found the inside of her mug very interesting indeed. “You for instance are…“ She broke off when she realised what she was saying but she seemed to have peaked Gillian’s interest:

“What?“ She asked curiously.

“Well, we… work well together, don’t we, we’re very different and yet…“ Caroline shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of a spring or something digging into her back. Anything to distract her from the sheep farmer.

“Are you coming on to me, Caz?“ Gillian smirked and Caroline’s face fell.

“No! No, no, don’t be ridiculous.“ Her voice was higher than usual and she shook her head vehemently.

“Hey, I’m not that bad, am I?“ The sheep farmer carried on, seemingly intent on exploiting a moment of weakness.

“Can’t win with you, can I,“ Caroline cleared her throat and focused her thoughts, she finished her tea, to give herself something to do.

“Relax, I’m only winding you up,“ Gillian elbowed her and Caroline became aware of how closely they were sitting together.

“Right.“

“Been with a girl once.“ Gillian added in an off-hand sort of way and got to her feet. She grabbed Caroline’s mug out of her hand who just stared at her in shock.

“What?“ Her mind was reeling from the statement and she couldn’t be sure if Gillian was trying to wind her up more or if she was serious, sharing one of her many sex-capades of the past for a laugh. Perhaps it was a bit of both. The sheep farmer didn’t answer immediately. She made her way into the kitchen and poured brandy into their mugs, forgoing the tea altogether. Caroline was watching her every move, tense for an answer, as Gillian took her time returning to the sofa. She handed her one of the mugs and took a sip of her own before sitting back down. There was a moment of quiet anticipation as Gillian appeared to be contemplating how to best tell the story.

“You know when… things were right bad with Eddie,“ she started at last and Caroline felt a lump forming in her throat. Eddie. How she longed never to hear that name again and for Gillian to forget all about him, but he would, forever, be a part of her, of them. Caroline hated hearing about that part of Gillian’s life because of how helpless it made her feel and how much she wished it had never happened. But there was also a part of her that was keen to listen, not out of morbid curiosity, but because it meant a lot to her that Gillian felt she could talk to her about him. She was, after all, the first person she had ever told of the real circumstances of her husband’s untimely death. Caroline felt honoured that Gillian confided in her, so she listened, for her, as much as it might hurt. She hadn’t anticipated this sharp change of pace and topic but perhaps it was something Gillian needed to get off her chest.

“He was controlling too, wan’t he, and wouldn’t really let me see other men, so…“ Gillian took a deep breath and a sip of the brandy to steady her nerves. “Guess he wasn’t that threatened by women so there was this lass, up in, uh... Huddersfield, actually, funnily enough.“ Gillian chuckled but there was no joy to it. “There was this one time where Eddie, he got really p-pissed on a night out there and got in a fight. Coppers had to break it up and he got arrested… I was g-gonna pick him up but when I were stood outside police station, I couldn’t make myself go in.“ She took another sip of her drink and Caroline reached out for her free hand. Gillian’s voice was more shaky now, there was the stammer too, that she got whenever negative emotions threatened to swallow her up. “C-Cause I knew if I did and bailed him out that night, he’d be…in a t-terrible state and he’d be right f-fucking pissed for having been arrested and…“ She broke off, curling her fingers tightly around Caroline’s. “Well anyway, I turned round, went to pub instead. Didn’t know it were a… gay bar or whatever, did I… but I really needed a drink and there was this girl…and she were nice and apparently liked the look of me and, by that point, I was just relieved to be away from Eddie for night and I… t-took opportunity, didn’t I. Stayed over. Picked up Eddie in’t morning. Told him coppers wouldn’t let me pick him up that night so I h-had to wait.“

“And he believed that?“ Caroline asked gently, running her thumb over the back of her hand.

“N-No. But he didn’t guess what I’d been up t-to that night, else he would have done more than give me a black eye, wouldn’t he…“ Gillian took a deep breath, eager to wrap up the story. “Saw her a couple times after that too, but couldn’t keep finding reasons to go to bloody Huddersfield, could I, so it fizzled out eventually.“

“I’m sorry, Gillian, I…“ Caroline didn’t know what to say. She wanted nothing more than to pull her into her arms, hold her close and tell her that everything would be alright but that would betray a depth of emotion that would probably overwhelm her. These were the times when Caroline was reminded of how fragile the other woman really was. She was staring into her mug, seemingly attempting to divine meaning from the amber liquid but coming up short. Caroline was struck - and not for the first time - by how small Gillian looked when she retreated into herself. Yes, physically, she was obviously far smaller than Caroline but her loud personality and presence usually more than made up for it. When the pretence of confidence fell away, what remained was the broken woman Eddie had left behind. Caroline couldn’t blame her for having killed him, not for a moment.

“’S fine,“ Gillian mumbled.

“It’s not fine,“ Caroline insisted, anger boiling up inside her.

“No, but it’s in the past,“ Gillian countered with surprising calmness as she finished off her drink. She glanced at Caroline and there was an odd sense of acceptance in her eyes, of hopefulness, of determination not to be defined by the past and to move forward. She gave Caroline’s hand a squeeze. “The girl was the point of the story, not Eddie,“ she said and managed a little smile, encouraging the conversation along to more pleasant matters. “Bloody hell, Caroline, I was hoping you’d at least be a little bit shocked or something.“ She managed a chuckle.

“So… what’d she look like?“ Caroline asked after another moment of silence, as she contemplated how to steer clear of the gloominess of the past.

“Who?“ Gillian frowned.

“The girl!“ Caroline exclaimed and let go of her hand. She watched Gillian with delight at the blush that suddenly crept onto the sheep farmer’s cheeks.

“Oh! Uhh- dunno.“ Gillian looked into her mug, which was now empty and provided no distraction.

“Yes you do,“ Caroline teased.

“Blonde. Tall,“ Gillian sighed, exasperated.

“Ohh, do you have a type,“ Caroline joked, trying to brush over a wave of jealousy.

“She was no uptight bitch if that’s what you’re bothered about,“ Gillian’s snark returned in full force.

“That's a no-go, is it?"

“It was good though…“ Gillian went on, completely ignoring Caroline's question.

“What?“ The headteacher frowned confused.

“The sex,“ Gillian smirked, causing Caroline to nearly spit out her drink.

#last tango in halifax #gillian greenwood #nicola walker #ltih #sarah lancashire #caroline mckenzie dawson #caroline x gillian #gillian/caroline #fanfiction #mild angst #banter #domestic #british weather is a bitch #femslash #slow burn #mutual pining

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Could I request bleeding through the bandages for TK??

thank you so much for the prompt jillian! very sorry for the wait.

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: bleeding through the bandages

also my submission for day 5 of @carlosreyesweek : “Just, hold on” + hurt/comfort

prompts are still open! please keep sending them through!

ao3

The call comes at the tail end of Carlos’s shift, and he instantly hates whichever idiot decided to ruin his night by mugging someone. It’s in one of the seedier areas of town and apparently there’s at least one casualty; things always get messy in this particular area, so Carlos just knows he’s going to be pulling overtime tonight.

It’s fucking inconsiderate, really.

He and his partner share a look as they pull up, the crowd surrounding the victim visible even in the dark. Medical hasn't arrived yet, so it’s up to them to deal with both the mugger and the injury. Which - just great.

Carlos sighs and gets out, trepidation growing as they get closer. He keeps his hand on his holster but doesn’t draw his gun; people down here don’t tend to be too friendly to cops and he doesn’t want to provoke them any more. To his left, Rachel is doing the same, the corners of her mouth pinched tight.

A woman runs up to them, phone in hand and eyes wide with shock. The witness, Carlos presumes.

“Officers, thank you for getting here so quickly; oh, it’s just awful, isn’t it, I still can’t really understand it -”

“Ma’am.” Carlos holds up a calming hand and she stops mid-rant, breathing hard. He signals to his partner to check on the victim before turning back to the witness. “Let’s all keep calm, okay? Can you tell me your name?”

“Caroline.”

“Okay, Caroline, can you tell me what happened?”

Caroline’s lips tremble, and for a second Carlos worries she’s going to launch into another incomprehensible stream of words. But she appears to steel herself, taking a deep breath before nodding. “That poor man was just running when someone came up to him - and normally I don’t pay attention to these things, Officer, but there was something not right about the other man. Anyway, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t look too friendly and then, oh it was terrible, he - that poor man over there - moved and the other one just - stabbed him!”

Carlos pushes away a grimace, trying for a reassuring smile. “Could you see what the attacker looked like?”

“No, it was too dark, you see. But he did run off that way” - she points to Carlos’s right - “into those trees over there.”

“Thank you, that’s really helpful.” Carlos relays the information through his radio, then goes to meet Rachel. As long as medical isn’t here, they’re going to have to stay and make sure the victim lives long enough to make it to hospital.

There’s a gap in the crowd, and through it Carlos can see Rachel bent over a body on the ground. She spots him before he gets to her and immediately her face drops, eyes darting between him and the victim.

“Carlos, don’t come any closer!” she calls.

Carlos stops, frowning. “What?”

Rachel looks close to tears, though she’s clearly trying to maintain an air of professionalism for the onlookers. “Just… Please, Carlos.”

And there’s something in the way she’s looking at him - at the victim - that sends Carlos’s heart plummeting into his shoes. “No,” he whispers, breaking into a run, because it can’t be him, there’s no way the universe could be this cruel, surely -

Except it is. Carlos drops to his knees beside TK and he forgets all about being professional, his one hand reaching up to cup TK’s face while the other presses against his wound, blood already soaking through the makeshift bandages.

Distantly, he hears Rachel begin to manage the crowd, who have suddenly become very interested to know why a police officer is crying over a random jogger. He pays them no mind, though, attention wholly fixed on TK.

“TK,” he says, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “TK, can you hear me?”

TK breathes sluggishly, his gaze barely meeting Carlos’s before drifting away again. “Carlos,” he breathes. “‘M tired.”

“Hey, no, don’t you dare.” Carlos panics as TK’s eyes begin to slide closed, pressing down harder on his wound. It elicits a gasp from TK which Carlos feels guilty about, but only just - at least he’s still awake. He can hear sirens in the distance, and he prays that they’re the medical team.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Carlos murmurs. “Once they’ve fixed you up, you’re never getting out of the doghouse for the rest of your life.”

TK almost smiles at that. “If I remember,” he slurs, “that was about getting shot. You d-didn’t say anything ‘bout stabbing.”

“It was implied.”

The medical team finally gets to them and Carlos shifts to make room, though he keeps running his fingers through TK’s hair. One of the paramedics looks like they’re about to tell him to move, but one look at his face must make them reconsider. He keeps talking to TK, desperately trying to keep him awake, but Carlos can see the blood staining his hands and TK’s shirt and the grass and even the fresh bandages the paramedics have put on and -

And, it’s not enough. TK’s eyes slip closed.

“We have to transfer him now,” one of the paramedics says. Then, looking up at Carlos. “Officer, we’re going to have to ask you to move.”

Carlos stares. The paramedic sighs and is about to repeat herself when a hand grips Carlos’s arm. He turns to see Rachel watching him, an unbearably sympathetic look on her face.

“Come on, Carlos,” she says quietly. “He’s in good hands.”

“I can’t -” He shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to stay put, but he knows that every second he delays increases the chance of TK not making it out of this. He presses a kiss to TK’s forehead. “Hold on for me, love,” he murmurs, then allows Rachel to pull him up, using her as a means of staying upright.

He clambers into the ambulance with TK, Rachel telling him it’s all cleared with the sergeant, and stares into his pale face, hoping against hope that he’ll wake up again.

“Hold on.”

Hours later, he’s still in his uniform, having rebuffed all attempts to make him go home. The most he agreed to was washing the blood off his hands, but even then the fear was still present.

Fear that TK would wake up without him, yes, but most off all, fear that he would die, and Carlos wouldn’t have been there.

The 126 have been coming and going, the only constant besides Carlos, Owen. He’s sitting on TK’s other side, the harsh hospital lighting throwing his face into sharp relief. He looks old - older than Carlos has ever seen him, except for perhaps the last time they were in this situation.

Carlos refuses to think about that time. It had taken days for TK to wake up then; Carlos isn’t sure he could handle that this time.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. All he knows is that he hasn’t slept, and TK hasn’t woken up. Owen’s drifted off a couple of times, every time startling awake only to look even sadder when he realises TK’s still asleep.

But, eventually, when even Carlos can feel sleep pulling at him, TK twitches. Carlos blinks, half-certain he imagined it, but, no, Owen’s alert too, both of them rising from their seats.

“TK?” Carlos says, daring to let a little hope into his voice.

There’s an agonising silence which feels like it lasts minutes, and then TK moves again, his eyes slowly blinking open. Carlos sags in relief, sitting down heavily in the chair.

“Oh, god,” he chokes out, grabbing TK’s hand and kissing his knuckles. TK’s gaze slowly focuses on Carlos’s face and a smile creeps onto his face.

“Thought I was in the doghouse,” he manages, his voice weak but still, somehow, teasing.

Carlos laughs wetly. “It’s under review,” he responds, but they both know it’s an empty threat.

Carlos is never letting TK out of his sight again.

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jonah-aesthetic · 3 years

Text

That One pt. 4 I Jonah Marais

Jonah Marais X Reader / Ivette X Daniel Seavey

Plot: Jonah escorts the reader to the gala finding out the pull to her wasn’t one sided.

Word count: 6.0k+

Author’s Note: I really struggled with this piece but I got her done! It’s been almost two weeks and I’m happy I got it finished. The piece is a whole roller coaster so enjoy!

Rating: 16+

One Two Three

--------

The sapphire dress was pulling tight around the small of your waist to your bust. The sleeves were circling your upper arms and resting just below your shoulders. The skirt of your gown flared at your hips lightly and continued to cascade upon the floor. There was a slit in the left side of the blue skirt reaching your high thigh.

Most of the day was spent with Ivette pampering yourselves for the gala that was taking place tonight. When you both came back Ivette’s entire team had been waiting in the den impatiently. Caroline a blonde stylist rolled her racks of shoes and jewellery. Aurora a brown skinned British hair stylist with a curling wand glued to her waist. Gamila an Arabic Makeup artist itching to use her brushes.

Together they made an incredible team and you knew why Ivette always picked them for her events. Aurora respected your request for a simple hair style and only vaguely curled it into soft loops. Gamila created a stunning blue cut crease smokey eye look that colour matched your gown. Caroline picked silver heels that went with your gown like a perfect combination.

The wounds on the tops of your feet had officially healed perfectly into light scars. You were now ready to slip into a pair of heels without wincing in pain. Just in time for the gala.

Staring at yourself in the body length mirror resting in Ivette’s bedroom. You could hear the fashion team bonding out in the den as if they did projects together often. It blew you away at how they could make you look like a Richie in a few hours of work. You didn’t know if you enjoyed the view or despised it.

You watch your best friend’s head pop in pass the door frame. A proud smile stretching onto her red lips, “He picked a good dress, fits you like a second skin.” Her voice light as she came into the room hands resting behind her back out of view. Her black gown flowing around her body like the damn dress was made of her. Scratch that the dress was definitely made for her.

“I knew Daniel was a scheming little devil, but you? I trusted you.” You playfully narrow your eyes at her in fake accusation. She shrugs and the gown follows the movement. It was parallel to her personality, a stunning jet black gown. A deep ‘V’ neck ran down the front and kissed the waist band. Revealing the curves of both her breasts, and circled her shoulder into a long sleeve. The skirt of the gown flared and parted in the middle, the slit reaching her thighs.

“Just give him a chance he’s a good guy.” You turned around and faced her, taking a step back not realised how close she was.

“I’ll think about it as soon you stop doubt Mr. Drummer.” Her face falls at that,

“I brought a gift.” Her voice optimistic as Ivette steered from the topic of the man in question.

“I know. Did you really think I didn’t notice your hands hiding behind your back the entire time you’ve been in here?”

“It was worth a try.” She playfully says pulling her hands front behind her. A dainty crown immersed in diamonds sat into the palms of her hands. Your heart beamed recognising the head piece instantly wanting to melt in the presence of it.

“It’s a replica of the crown Harlow Reed wears in the book to movie adaptation of The Redemption Of The Wolf. This gala is the closest thing to ball and I don’t think you’d be complete without this.” Ivette’s eyes were hopeful as she offers the crown to you.

Your hands were claps to your lips holding the excited shock you wanted to let out. The chilling accuracy of the diamond placement and the detailing in the swirls. Almost made your blood run cold, you could’ve swore this was the exact crown Mavren gave Harlow as a piece offering.

“How much was that?” Were the first words to spill from your tongue. Ivette gives you a bored look saying ‘Really I’m offering a prop from your favourite book series. And that’s what you ask?’

“Come nerd, Aurora is itching to thread it into your hair.” Ivette links her arm in yours guiding you out of the room.

-----

The overwhelming aroma of the gala made you excuse yourself from your table, leaving Ivette, Daniel, Jonah, and Corbyn behind. the contents in your stomach was threaten to pass your lips. A tightening sensation pulsed in your abdomen as you reached the most expensive ladies room. The main door blurred out most of the suffocating noise of people.

You rushed for the first open stall, shutting the door you realised it was more of a mini room then a stall. Locking the knob you could finally hear your own breathing letting the sound of it calm you down. It’s been years since your last panic attack. At first it didn’t click in your brain that you were having one. Must of been the reason why Ivette kept asking if you were okay, she knew.

You were laughing and in deep conversation and all of a sudden it dawned on you. The loud noise of many people and the rumble of the music, you began to suffocate in your mind as your body heated at the first sign of panic. The shine of the slowly spinning car in the middle of the room made your breathe quicken and bile raise in your throat.

Back pressing against the door you slid to the floor and paced your breathing pattern. How did Ivette live and survive a life style like this? You couldn’t last a few hours without wanting to throw up and go home.This was a horrible fucking idea, you didn’t belong here with all these high held people who knew they could afford that car without a dent. A car like that would cost your entire life and some.

You wondered if Jonah and Ivette would notice if you slipped out the door and into your bed?

You closed your eyes pretending to wrap your hand around a paint brush and create a new story. It surprisingly helped with negative feelings like this. Wasn’t long before your heart slowed and your body heat regulated. Gathering yourself on your feet you unlocked the door and headed for the sinks. You looked as if you didn’t experience a panic attack on the floor of the bathroom. You were fucking grateful.

Not a single crinkle creased into the skirt of the gown. The crown threaded into your hair never loosened nor was a strand of hair out of place. Ivette was right this was the closet you were going to get to a ball and it was damn close. although you never anticipated your fear reaching the surface. You weren’t Harlow, she was a badass with a dagger and you were....well you. As much as you wanted to be something from a fantasy novel you had to be patient with yourself.

“Not all of us were made for this life.” The sickly sweet voice had you twirling around. Julie stood there wearing a delicate pastel green gown gasping the aesthetic of princess Tiana perfectly. Confidence oozed out of her pores as she took in your entire outfit. “I must say you do look the part, but your expression tells me you’re overwhelmed.” She says watching your vulnerable presence fumble for words.

“Once you’re sucked into this life everyone knows your business. Enjoy the normalcy while you can.” Julie says not letting you grab onto words to share with her. As quick as she came Julie disappeared behind a bathroom door leaving you confused. Was that a threat or a warning.

Shaking the entire encounter away you catch the door handle in your hand. Stepping out you collide with another body, embarrassment gathering in your cheeks you’re about to apologised. But Jonah’s green wolf eyes catch your glance and you sigh. The plan to sneak away without catching their attention flew out the window.

Massive hands rested on your bare shoulders to stead your wobbling form. Familiar warmth bloomed against your skin. Beginning to travel down to your wrists, caressed the wings of your shoulder blades. You fought the instinct to shudder under his comforting touch. Your body reacted to him in such a way you didn’t want to admit.

Concern was carved into his eyebrows. “Are you okay?” His voice was chillingly gentle, Ivette must of told him.

“Yes, I just needed to use the rest room.” You cleared your throat with a forced grin that never reached your ears. “You sure?” He softly pressed with an expression that was unreadable. Sighing in defeat you caved into his gentle presence.

“No, It’s all a little much for me, I’m not cut out for any of this.” You felt frustrated with yourself. As if you didn’t finish something in time when you know you were fully capable of doing it. Angry at yourself for not adapting to this life the way your mind adapted entering a new book world.

“Close your eyes.” He says,

“What!?” You asked a little too loud catching a few eyes. His small command threw you off the train track.

“Close your eyes,” He repeated with a light smile. You stare at him searching for any wrong intention but you come up dry. Maybe it was his soft smile or the way his hands were placed, thumb rubbing comforting circles into your skin. But you comply closing your eyes cutting your vision into the dark trusting him fully.

“Now breathe. Inhale the positive through the nose, exhale the negative through your mouth.”

“Why?” You asked with a small giggle feeling like the exercise was childish.

“Just do it.” Jonah playfully snaps at you making you laugh more, taking the anxious thoughts away.

“Okay.” You say before doing the breathing excise you learned when you were six. You did it once, twice, and a third time. Your brain was calm and content once again and you were perplexed on how a useless calming exercise worked. Or so you believed when your mom told you to use it to chase away the icky bad feelings.

“Take my hand I want you to come with me.” You kept your eyes closed as you felt his hands leave your shoulders. Tracing the warmth down your biceps and down your forearms. Causing you to genuinely smile at the sensation but fought against the shudder your body wanted to make. Softly his hands entered your palms, heat spread like it always seemed to.

“Keep your eyes closed, follow my body.” Before you could respond you felt the muscles in his fingers and hands tense. Gasping lightly Jonah pulled you slowly and your body followed him.

“Good.” He says watching the way your body followed him. Trusting him with everything you had. Faster he pulled you through the ocean of people. A colossal of a function held in the city’s legendary museum, massive rooms connecting with spacious hallways.

With your vision gone your other senses heightened. Your nose drowning in his cinnamon scent. Callouses embedding into his finger tips from the strings of his guitar. You could feel the aroma of other people passing, hearing conversations near and distant.

You clung to Jonah’s arm then knowing he was guiding you through the sea of nightmares. Anxious blood running in your veins then washing out of your system as him warmth engulfed your whole body.

Jonah’s head strained down to see you nuzzle into the sleeve of his blazer. Crown digging a tiny tear in the fabric, he could care less as a proud smile grazed his lips. “Are you okay?” His voice was dripping in honey, “I am now.” You hold on tighter to him feeling content like this with him as he never once tired to pull away.

It was a small journey to his destination. You had a hunch he had brought you to the ball room. Delicate music flowed louder and bounced off the halls carrying it back to the centre of the room. The flooring was more slick like butter under your heels a lot different then the other rooms.

You knew Jonah was planning to stop as his muscles strained and weigh sifting in his body. Standing beside him you relied on the movement of him more then anything. He was silent as he grabbed your hand and placed it upon his left shoulder. Seconds later his slender fingers dug into the fabric of your gown and pulled your waist to his.Your body pressed into his fitting like missing pieces from the same puzzle. You let a breathy gasp pass your lips as you felt the shudder work through your body on its own accord.

“Follow my lead.” His voice smooth and deep at the close proximity of you. Words lodged into your throat and all you could do was nod at his words. Now familiar with the way his muscles strained and shift you fell in sync with him on the first step. Slow pacing into the shape of a diamond. Jonah began to pick up the pace in the same pattern, noticing you syncing with his foot work perfectly.

“Why are my eyes closed?” You asked getting familiar with his body and falling into the melody of the music. “Personal experiment.” He says continuing his dancing pattern. Adding a body circle letting your dress flare with the quick movement.

“And would that be?” You asked feeling his fingers crawl to the middle of your back. Pushing your body further into his causing your breath to hitch. Your arm instinctively wrapped around his neck as your breath began to mingle with his.

“To see how your body reacts to mine with your eyes closed your reaction would be raw and real. because your mind isn’t conscious of who you’re with.”

You’re quiet as Jonah brings you into two ratios of his dance pattern.“Why would you want to know that?”

“I’m drawn to you in a way I cant explain and no matter how much you want to deny it you are too. Tonight proves it.” At that pure fact your eyes flick open. Jonah’s immediately connect while fierce passion swam in them. Your face mere inches away from his and you could spot out the things he’d might find as flaw. The crease in the middle of chin, or the way one side of his top lips was bigger. You couldn’t help adore those things.

Dancing in his arms all you could see and feel was him. Unaware of the other couples dancing in one of the most historic ballrooms the world as seen. Taking away the fact Jonah wrote you into your own fantasy world.

Noticing your stare he smirked, green eyes shifting to your lips. Tongue poking out as he began to stare at them like they were the only source of his survival. “It’s rude to stare, Rockstar.” You mumble not sure if you should lean in and bring your lips to his. If you did you had no idea if you would be able to stop, Jonah was right you were drawn to him and you had no fucking idea why.

“Not when it’s you, Princess.” the intimate nickname caused the blood to rush upon your cheeks. You broke eye contact quickly looking at the way your feet chased his on the dance floor. A deep chuckle erupted against his chest and vibrated into yours. “I’ll let it go this time since there happens to be a crown on my head.’ You threaten playfully.

His eyes caught the sight of it in all it’s glory, “You should wear it more often, it fits you perfectly.” The diamonds sparkled into the green rings rounding his pupils. You almost snorted as you asked “Do you really think aimless flirting is getting you anywhere?”

“Usually does. Especially with the professors.” He winks at you teasingly. “God you’re so cheesy it wounds my soul to hear it.” You giggle and watch him beam at the happiness he managed to pull from your soul. Your eyes were brighter in the presence of him and Jonah never failed to notice it.

“Do you trust me?” A sudden question out of the blue,

“Seems like a trick ques-” You yelp as he twirled you a few times, hands still connected over your head. Anxious butterflies enter your stomach at the fast motion. You began to miss the warmth he brought you as if you were always meant to me in Jonah’s arms indefinitely. You giggle as Jonah pulls you back and you're relieved by his cinnamon presence.

“I trust you.”

“I know.”

The rest of the night is spent dancing in his arms, Giggling and feeling genuinely happy for the first time in along time. So distracted in him you both missed the auction. So lost in him that you hadn't noticed the couple danced a few feet away had been Julie with Trey.

------

A few weeks later

The moon hung high in the night sky as the harsh wind howled against your old windows. The blue glow of the television washed over your sleeping form. Curled like a kitten into the wall until a loud pounding at your door woke you. Mind hazy and confused as you were brought to consciousness. The loud banging started again as you heard a deep slurring voice. “Y/n? Y/n are you home?”

You almost felt like you were still wandering in dreamland. Who would show up at your dorm in the dead of night drunk out of their mind? Scurrying out of the covers you walked a couple steps to your door, your dorm was the small. Pulling the lock free you turn the knob and open the door.

Jonah stood in the hallway swaying on the balls of his feet. The bitter scent of alcohol engulfed you. He looked so wasted, a state you’ve never seen him in. you always saw him sober even at parties his frat liked to throw. Crinkles and strains littered his clothing, a rip was torn in the collar of his shirt, blotches of dried blood spotted the light fabric. Eyes dazed as he glanced at you, dark bags weighed under his eyes. Bruises and cuts were spread across his face.

“Jonah?” You asked beyond shocked,

“I saw him and I lost it.” Jonah lazily shrugs losing balance and his shoulder run into the frame of your door. Groaning he continues to lean against it too drunk too hold himself up. “I needed to see you..b-because you’re the only one that-”

“It’s late Jonah you should go.” You say regretting your words, holding the door you’re about to close it. “Please.” Jonah begs trying to nudge the door with his shoulder. But leans his entire weight against the door instead causing it to fly out of your grip and bang upon the wall. Jonah falls to the floor with a softer then you thought.

Without thinking you’re at his side helping him to his feet and you wonder how he got into the building. Once he’s onto his feet you guide him slowly to your desk and tell him to sit. He already barged in there was no point on kicking him out now. Shutting the door you flick on the light and your brain scolds you for it. Turning back to him you noticed blood seeping through his shirt on his side.

“What the hell did you do?” You asked him gently shaking your head as you walk to him. Jonah doesn't say a word as he watches you gather his shirt in your hand. Lifting it you spot a large scrapping wound running up his rib the chest. Dried blood covered his chest not too badly scraped like the side of his rib cage. Blood ran down his side that wasn’t there before. The wound tore open when he face planted to the floor.

“Take your shirt off I’ll fetched the first aid kit.” You speak to him sternly. “Yes ma’am.” Jonah chuckles darkly in a flirtatious manor and you ignore it. He didn’t have a right to that, not after dodging you like the plague for the last week.

You could’ve swore Jonah’s chest is something forged by angels. perfect sets of muscles tempted you to drop the aid kit and sit in his lap. A lazy smirk played on his lips and you had to look away, Swallowing the attraction down you forced yourself to focus.

“I don’t want to know how you achieved to look like this.” You sitting down on stool and catching the rubbing alcohol from the kit. “I wasn’t planning on telling you.” He pointed and your heart wrenched at his response.

In silence you drown cotton balls in the liquid and dab it on to his rib. They slightly shrink and expand sharply as he seethes through his teeth. You pull your lips in tight to stop the laugh that wanted to come out. It amused you to see him squirm at your hand. It was short lived as you remembered the situation between to two of you.

“Why are you dodging me like a bullet right now.” The liquid slides down his middle with ease. “I’m not.” He sucks onto his teeth as you work your way through his wound. Disinfecting it like he had that night at Chocolate Spot, taking care of you like no one else ever would.

“How can you say that when we were..friends or whatever you want to call it. We saw each other every day from dawn to dusk, almost spending every hour together. I accidentally fell asleep in your bed one night with Sawyer when we were watching Cars. We got ice cream every second day cause if we went every day Marcel would cut us off. We walked through the city and you showed me your favourite places. You pushed me to start painting again, I came to your band practise so often Jack started calling me your groupie. “

“Then one day you didn’t answer my text, you weren’t answering my calls either. Daniel was a complete asshole when I dropped by the fraternity house. You stopped getting coffee with me and you never saw the way I progressed with my painting. You abandoned me Jonah, but maybe you’re right that you didn’t.”

Your focus was surprisingly on the task at hand, not once did you look up at him. If You did you knew you would crumble into the palm of his hand and you were making good process. He was silent as he watched you work through it. You honestly didn’t know what you expected from him but it wasn’t silence.

Just over halfway through his wound and a few cotton balls later is when you felt your eyes sting. Blinking softly hot tears rolled down your cheeks and you could feel you nose get stuffy. “I’m sorry.” His voice is a gentle slur.

“Why are you sorry? It’s my fault for thinking I was different. It’s pathetic the way I believed you.” You both fell into silence vulnerable hearts beating the same rhythm, scared to say the wrong thing.

Wasn’t too long before you finished disinfecting the wound. Plastering a bandage to his rib cage where the wound was deeper. Leaving the cuts on his face alone because that’d take too much mental energy to tend to them.

“I don’t know why you chose to come here, but I think you should take your shirt and leave.” You say throwing the bloodied cotton balls in the trash and sliding the first aid kit back under the bed. “Which one?” He noticed the shirt that your body was clad in. First failed band merch he lent the first time you were at his house and you weren’t planning on giving back. You liked sleeping in it.

“The one you came in.”

“It has blood on it.”

“I don’t care, just get out.” You say heading for your bed way too tired to deal with him at the moment. “Wait.” Jonah’s hand catches your wrist and slender fingers wrap around it. A small shiver runs down your spine as if you were deprived of his touch. Body soon growing content from the skin to skin contact of him. Pulling lightly he turned you to face him, regret dripping in his eyes.

“What?” You ask sharply almost in a snap.

“I loved the time I spent with you, watching you fit into my life like you meant to be there. I see the way you get along with the band goofing around with them like they’re siblings. How you treat Sawyer as if he’s your dog, doesn’t help that the canine is in love with you. I just can’t help think that you deserve better then me. You know my past and you know who I was...still am. You don’t deserve to worry about me and expect to clean me up.” Jonah’s green eyes sparkle.

You narrow your eyes at him. Yanking your wrist from his grip and cross your arms over your chest. “What gives you the right to tell me what I deserve Jonah?” Your voice filled with anger. “I think I’m the one who decides that okay?” You asked pointing a finger to his still bare chest. He only nods watching the fury burn from your ears.

“I know who you are Jonah, and I’ll keep choosing you because no one. And I mean no one as ever made me feel the way you have in those few weeks.”

Passion burning in Jonah’s eyes like nothing you’ve seen before. Fingers dig into your wrist again as he pulls you into him. You yelp at the sudden action and let yourself get entirely lost in him. His hands are delicate as they cup the sides of your face. Soon guiding your face to his giving you time to reject him, but you don’t.

Once your lips meet his you swore you felt the entire world fall into place. He tasted of harsh vodka and coca cola while his whole being was drowning in the scent of it. You could care less in this moment as you melt into his arms perfectly. His kiss is gentle and careful as if pressing more into the kiss would shatter you into dust.

Pulling away from the kiss you look to your nightstand breathless and rosy cheeked. Instantly you felt bare without his warm touch upon your skin. It was weird the way your body always reacted to him as if this man was your whole life line. Like your body couldn’t get enough of him.

Jonah’s fingers caught your chin in his soft grip forcing your attention on his drunk hazy eyes. Exhaustion was wearing on his body now and you watched a dopey smile spread on his lips. “Beautiful.” His mumbles a soft slur of syllables as he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“You’re tired,” You respond back with fond smile.

“Can I stay with you?” Hope begins to dance in his eyes and you nod, “turn the light off.” was all you said before you pull from his grip and crawl into bed.

The light flicks off and you’re engulfed into the darkness only hearing light shuffles that Jonah makes. Soft thud of jeans hit the floor before you feel his body sink into the mattress of your bed. You giggle feeling him press his head into your stomach. The giddiness reaching your brain as his weight pushes into your legs.

“God I love the sound of your laugh.” He says into the fabric of your shirt. You smile in response and thread your fingers into the curls of his hair. Jonah pulls you thighs tighter against his bare chest and you feel his sigh contently in your arms. And you too were content in him and you begin wonder if this is what home felt like.

Jonah is quiet for a long while before you sense his breathing patterns slow and light snores erupt from him. You pull the blanket to your chest and surrender to sleep for the second time that night. This time was more rewarding then the first, because you had him.

-------

Late morning sun light floods into the dorm through light mesh curtains. Mind growing conscious while you felt the man cuddling against you nuzzle his face deeper into stomach. Looking like a sleepy puppy while doing it. You smile softly to yourself and comb your fingers into his chocolate curls enjoying the moment.

Until the Tuesday morning dawned on you, and by the bright light you knew you missed the first half of your eight am lecture. Desperately trying to get out of Jonah’s grip, he pulls you closer to his body instead. Rolling your eyes you try again, prying is arms from your thighs, but his hold is stronger then your resistance.

“Jesus what the hell is in your protein shakes?” You asks more to yourself,

“Protein.” Jonah murmurs into the fabric of your shirt. “You’re awake?” You asked surprised still trying to force yourself out of his grip. “Yes. Now stop trying to escape.”

“Can’t and because of you..” You groan digging your fingers into his bare bicep and push. “..I’m really late for my morning class..” Your grip slips and you yelp. “...Let me go!” You sigh in defeat and fall back into your pillows.

“I might be able to spare you.” He says reluctantly and pulls his arms from around you. You missed the feeling of them circling your body and as much as you wanted to put then back you couldn’t.

“Thank you.” You say gratefully and scoot yourself to the edge of the bed. Jonah crawls higher on the bed, back muscles glistening against the sun beams. He face plants into the pillow abruptly and moans into it sending shivers down your spine. Wondering what it would sound like on the shell on your ear as you reach of your phone.

The time displays on the screen and you swore under your breath as Jonah stirs in your bed and hums in question. “It’s 11:30am I missed the entire lecture, I still have time to get to my second class. I might have enough to grab a coffee on the way.”

“Me one too?” He asked in a coo and looks up at you. Gasping lightly you rush to him and grab his face to inspect the swelling of a yellowing bruise. It definitely didn’t look like that last night and must’ve grown in the night. Softly you finger tips dance onto the swell and Jonah curses at you and winces out of your grip. You muffled a small laugh, “Sorry, I wanted to see how bad it was.”

“Yeah I bet you did.” He snaps at the pain you caused him.

“Okay I’ll let you rest Mr. Attitude..” You tease him. “..I have a class to get to, and you know your way out.” You gather up your bathroom things in your catty and before you head out the door, you glance to see Jonah already sleeping peaceful in your bed.

----

After a long lecture you walk into Golden Biscuit and find Ivette already waiting for you. Ready for your two o’clock lunch date as she had ordered you an iced coffee and a sandwich. she sits in a spacious booth and you wonder how long she’s been sitting there scrolling on her phone.

“Hey.” You greet sliding into the seat across from her. Instantly she puts down her phone, screen kissing the table. “Finally what took you so long?”

“You do realise I don’t have a car right? Not to mention it’s a twenty minute walk from the lecture hall.” You reach for your sandwich and sink your teeth into it. “Calm down I know I was only teasing. I missed you and your dumb ass.” She says and you roll your eyes as your mouth was full of a deliciousness.

With Jonah on hiatus for the last week you kept to yourself. You didn’t think it was fair to come in between her relationship with Daniel. Especially since he was Jonah’s best friend and band mate. And in that time Jonah was avoiding you Daniel told you ‘if he wanted to be found you would’ve found him’ Honestly a dick move on his end of the plate but you understood his reason.

You knew Ivette would tear out his throat for that one despite what she felt for him. She’d do absolutely anything for you, that’s who Ivette was. It’s the reason you never told her about it and said you needed space. Because at the end of the day Daniel was the only whose ever made her feel secure in a relationship. You weren’t about to take that away from her, she’s happy with him.

“I missed you too and your loud personality.” You take a sip of your coffee to wash down the bread down.

“Speaking of loud I heard that a certain someone forced his way through your dormitories last night.” The excitement glowed in her brown eyes as she took a sip of her own coffee.

A small smile crawled onto your lips at the mention of the man that slept in your bed last night. “Yes..” You start and tell her everything that happened last night. That he woke up at two in the morning absolutely wasted and bruised from the waist up. How you weren’t too pleased to see his face after everything that happened between the two of you. Yet you still tended to his massive wound that ate at his side, saying how you felt the need to do it even after feeling that resentment for him. How you two made up and kissed and fell asleep in each others arms like you were meant to.

By the time you finished your coffee was gone and your sandwich was half eaten. Ivette held her coffee in both hands looking at you with an expression you couldn’t place. “The way you describe him tells me you’re in love with that one.” He voice is soft and light.

You choke and cough on a piece of bacon, shocked by her words. “Me and Jonah aren’t together together. At least I don’t think we are, he never asked. I can’t be in love with him, not yet. That-that would be almost im-impossible.” You scramble for the words. Desperate to deny the idea out of your mind.

“The way you talk about him is as if your souls are made from the same stars. It wouldn’t be that impossible.”

You muffle a small laugh, “That’s from a movie.” You point out,

“I know. What do you expect from a theatre major who doesn’t devour books the way you do?” She shrugs and takes a bite out of her panini.

You shake your head playfully as your phone vibrates in your back pocket. Eyebrows knit together while you fish it out. A white notification from eBay with a picture of you lion painting pops up. Blocking a picture of you and Ivette when you went to Disneyland last year.

You tap on it and it takes you to your listing of the painting. A green banner is displayed at the top and in white lettering SOLD is written inside it. Your eyes fall upon more zeros then you could count, your phone slips from you grip. “Holy fuck!” you shout and clamp your hands to your mouth in pure shock at how much your panting sold for. Phone clattering to the phone and you could care less if the screen cracked.

“What?!” Ivette leans onto the table with an urgent expression. eagerly wanting to know what caused you to respond the way you did. Hands shaking vigorously against your mouth as your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Ivette watches you like this for the next five minutes letting you comprehend what the hell just happened.

Slowly you remove you hands from you mouth and look at her bug-eyed. Still in shock. “My painting sold.” Your voice is just above a whisper as if you said it any louder it’d go away.

“How much?” Ivette matches your tone,

“Five-hundred-thousand dollars.”

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

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has supported me through this series. It honestly means so much to me since I’ve struggled heavily with this part.

Which was your favourite part? Mine personally was when Jonah took the reader to the ball room and danced with her.

Don’t be afraid to message me if anything offended you with my POC characters. This is a safe space for everyone and I want to make it right!

Taglist: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @someinsanefangirl @evans-dejong

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westallenfun · 3 years

Text

Two's Company (1/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas).

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma, and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love. On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend, Barry Allen, but grapples with revealing her true feelings, for fear of completely ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, with romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may in fact force both Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths.

Rated: T (Warnings: Mild language)

Perhaps the most notable visual extravagance at wedding receptions is the abundance of balloons, flowers, and the chiffon backdrops, draped like curtains, framing the table whereon sat the wedding cake.

Iris is already trying to determine how she might steal away a few balloons, because really, nobody would miss them, and she had, after all, been the one sitting with the wedding planner for days on end, painstakingly selecting a theme for the reception and agonizing over every detail. Surely, after all her efforts, a few balloons going missing at the end of the party would be forgiven, if not unnoticeable. And she would be surreptitious about it too, seeing as how she would wait until the final guests, likely pleasantly drunk on champagne, rosé, and Prosecco, stumbled their way out of the Central City Gold Hotel.

“Nice work, West.” Iris looks up to see her heavily pregnant sister-in-law take a seat next to her, while cradling a rather magnificent sundae in her hands, spoon hanging precariously atop the hazelnut fudge.

“Thanks, but don’t you call my brother ‘West?’ Could get confusing,” Iris says, raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I’m married to Wally. Have been for three years. And so, it doesn’t have the same effect with him anymore. That’s the troublesome thing about marriage.”

“Classic Linda Park logic,” Iris murmurs, before once again focusing on the balloons. They are all the same shade of ivory, which made them particularly functional. For gift-giving purposes, that is. Gift-giving, Iris knows, is all about the presentation.

“No, but seriously, Iris. I’m impressed. Joe and Cecile deserve the best, and this is, honestly, the best.”

“Thanks, Linda. Dad deserves a perfect wedding day. As does Cecile. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to come together as beautifully as it did, but I’m still praying we see this thing to the end without any hiccups. We’ve got…” Iris taps the screen of her phone to check the time, “About three hours, at least, left.”

“And it’s probably especially important to you. You know, because you played matchmaker for Joe and Cecile,” Linda says, while spooning a generous amount of ice cream, topped with fudge and sprinkles and coconut flakes, into her mouth. Iris’s brow furrows,

“I did not ‘match-make’ my dad and Cecile. We’ve been over this Linda…” Linda begins to interrupt, but Iris shakes her head, “I know you seem to think that because I introduced my dad to Cecile that somehow this is my doing, but that’s untrue. To be honest, I didn’t expect them to hit it off so well, let alone date and get married within a year of my introducing them.” Cecile owns an interior design shop, which Iris had visited when she was helping Barry decorate his new apartment— a memory which immediately brings a smile to Iris’s face, for she fondly recalls Barry frantically searching eBay for a bed and a couch, and the way she had persuaded him that that was a terrible idea and instead found her way to Cecile’s trendy furniture boutique, which was also quite affordable. Cecile was so friendly and sweet, and Iris remembered her father struggling to date again, as it had been nearly a decade and a half since her mother had passed away, and so when she had thrown Barry a housewarming party, Iris figured that there was no harm in inviting Cecile, who had become friends with both Barry and Iris after hours spent together at the boutique, and introducing her to her dad. That had been a year ago. Now, they are at Joe West and Cecile Horton’s wedding reception.

“Well, we can debate semantics, but you definitely match-maked Wally and me. You can’t deny that,” Linda says, matter-of-factly, before eating another scoop of her sundae.

“I wouldn’t call it match-making. More like I have a sense for people that I know well and then introduce them, thinking that they may potentially like each other.”

“You set Wally and I up on a blind date six years ago, and now we’re married and have twins on the way. I would say there’s a diabolical matchmaking side to you. Don’t tell me you don’t feel accomplished every time you successfully match-make a couple.”

“Linda, I’ve only successfully match-maked— to use your word, which I still find objectionable, by the way— two couples. One was my brother and you. And you’re my best friend. The other was my dad and Cecile. That’s hardly a track record of successful matchmaking.”

“But it could be. Think about it. This could be a lucrative side hustle.”

“As if I would have time for a match-making side hustle, even if that was something I was interested in doing. I finally got my news site up and running, and The Citizen needs all hands on deck and then some. Besides, a matchmaking business is an exploitative way to make money.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Linda seems to ponder this, momentarily, before changing topics, abruptly, “Speaking of which, I’m your best friend now? Thought that was a privilege exclusively afforded to Barry,” Iris has heard this before and rolls her eyes, exasperated,

“My friendship with Barry is different. You know that.”

“Actually I don’t know that. But I would love to be enlightened about that.” Linda’s response is far too smug for Iris’s liking, but before she can retort, she hears a familiar voice behind her, a voice that unquestionably wraps Iris in a cocoon of warmth, so that she feels instantly home,

“I heard my name.” And although she cannot see him yet, she knows he’s smiling.

“Was wondering where you were, Allen. It’s a rare sight that you and Iris would be separated at any point, when in the same vicinity.” Barry chuckles at Linda’s quip, settling into the chair on Iris’s right and brushing away a few plastic flowers that had come undone from the upholstery. Iris glances up at him, smiling widely, which he’s reciprocating in equal measure. He sets a plate, containing a chocolate fudge brownie topped with mint chocolate chip ice cream, in front of her. Iris’s eyes widen, as she glances from the plate to Barry; her face alight with unadulterated joy.

“My hero,” she gasps, squeezing his hand and then truly taking in the scrumptious display of gooey chocolate and ice cream goodness.

“Always,” he whispers, gazing at her, affectionately, before continuing, “I was wrangling the last brownie from old Mrs. Rogers, who apparently wanted to share it between herself and her cat. Although I don’t know,” Barry pauses for a moment, glancing around the reception hall, “if her cat is even here. Doubtful. Regardless, it took a great deal of speed, stealth, and possibly defying Newton’s first law of physics, because I could have sworn that I willed the brownie in my direction without even touching it, to retrieve this dessert.”

“Don’t lie, Bear,” Iris says, her eyes sparkling with laughter, as she eagerly grabs her dessert fork, “Mrs. Rogers would never argue with you, if you wanted that brownie. She loves you.”

“Yeah, it was just my regular, old charm. And by charm, I mean, because I tutor her grandson, Matt, in chemistry.” (Linda snorts at that.) “Still, I think defying Newton’s first law makes for a better story. But nobody was getting this brownie except for you, Iris. You know, we wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for you. I mean, just look at this place. It looks fantastic,” he raves, gesturing towards the décor, “The work you put into this is amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you, Barry.” She’s touched, not just because Barry managed to negotiate the last brownie from poor, old Mrs. Rogers with his rather endearing, tripping-over-his-feet-type charm, but also because he is being, as usual, so disarmingly complimentary of her. Barry never expects her to be amazing; he just thinks she’s amazing always, even when she’s at her lowest or when she is mistaken, and when Iris reflects deeply on that, it overwhelms her. It forces her to dwell on feelings untold; on how, whenever she sees him, she can’t help but smile, almost as if by instinct.

But she can’t think about it. She won’t think about it.

“Before you got here, Barry. I was telling Iris how she should really get into a matchmaking side hustle,” Linda says, forcing Iris to focus on the conversation taking place and not on… well, a place where she refuses to go. A place which she cannot explore.

“Matchmaking?” Barry leans back, resting his arm on the back of Iris’s chair. “I don’t think that’s even remotely close to anything Iris-like.” Iris is acutely aware of how close his arm is to the bare skin of her upper back, but she ignores this. Or tries to.

“Exactly. And so I was telling Linda how that’s an awful idea, and how I am pretty sure a matchmaking business, where I have zero actual knowledge about strangers’ interpersonal relationships, could be fraudulent. I can’t possibly claim to be an expert. I mean, no guarantees, right? Seems like a colossal waste of people’s money,” Iris remarks, still trying not to think about Barry’s arm on her chair, right near her back. And how (she thinks she had just imagined it but, no, it was real) he had seemingly shifted his arm, so his fingers are now grazing her skin; his touch is feather-light, equally comforting as it is emboldening.

“That could be the genius of it, though. Enough people want to pay money for a matchmaker, even if it’s probably not going to be any more successful than a dating app. Throw in some good, old Cosmopolitan level astrology knowledge for marketing purposes. And there you have it. A potentially incredibly lucrative endeavor. Maybe I should start it myself,” Linda says, while still enjoying her sundae.

“Why waste money on a matchmaker? Sometimes something incredible is right in front of you, and you just have to tell yourself it’s time to throw caution to the wind. A matchmaker can’t tell you that, only you can know that,” Barry sounds wistful when he says this, and Iris turns to him, abruptly, studying his expression. He’s looking straight ahead, but his gaze is demonstrable of clear desire, and upon hearing such longing in his voice, her stomach drops. Because that’s the face of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone who’s found their someone. But who could her Barry have found? When did he find someone?

Iris is contemplating this, her stomach churning with her every thought, when the conversation shifts to pregnancy, as Linda comments how she’s always hungry and moody thanks to,

“…These two whom Wally impregnated me with.” To which Barry laughs, his fingers still softly grazing Iris’s back, while Iris forces herself to smile along and even joke that Linda had talked her ear off about how much she wanted babies and how maybe she shouldn’t have gotten so ahead of herself. But Iris’s mind is still on Barry potentially having found someone. She knows she should be happy, monumentally happy, because Barry is happy, so she cannot fathom why she feels like she’s about to vomit. Suddenly, she has no appetite for her brownie and ice cream, but she eats to evade suspicion, because Barry would surely know something is wrong if she fails to eat her dessert. But from the way he’s carefully watching her, maybe he does know something is wrong already, and Iris wishes, not for the first time, that they did not know each other’s every fidget and expression, signaling a mood shift, so well.

When the wedding reception is over and after Iris has said goodbye to every guest and promised her father and Cecile that she would be at their house the next day for their family dinner, she manages to take three ivory balloons with her to her car, without a single guest noticing. The decorator who had stayed to help her wrap up tells her that she can take any number of balloons that she would like. Or, perhaps more practically, however many would fit in her car.

More accurately, perhaps, Iris thinks she had not been noticed by anyone, when she’d successfully managed to fit all three balloons in her car two nights ago. She’s standing on line at CC Jitters, the local hub for Central City citizens to get their morning coffee and pastry fix, and holding a basket, which contains baked goods, a carefully wrapped red scarf, and a small, navy blue bag. Tied onto the handle of the basket are the three balloons, still inflated.

“For the boyfriend?”

Iris turns to meet the friendly disposition of a blonde woman she’s never met before. Startled for a moment, Iris realizes, that the stranger is referring to her basket, and she smiles, shaking her head,

“No, for a friend.” Although, given her thoughts lately, friend seems far too simple a word. She feels like she’s perjuring herself by saying friend, but best friend who I’ve known since childhood and with whom I think I might have feelings for, but who is possibly in love with someone else seems far too complicated, especially when Iris is not ready to admit this to herself, let alone to a stranger whom she meets for the first time on the queue for coffee.

“Well, they’re lucky. You clearly put so much work into that. No friend has ever given me a gift like that. Actually nobody’s given me a gift that thoughtful before,” the stranger continues, before visibly cringing, “I’m sorry, I’m oversharing. I’m Patty, by the way.”

“I’m…”

“Iris!” There it is again, that feeling of home settling upon her shoulders, like a velvet cloak, shielding her, protecting her. Barry is walking towards her, holding two mugs of coffee, and when he stops before her, he presses his lips to her forehead briefly, a typical form of greeting between the both of them. But if he could hear the way her heart hammers against her chest whenever she feels the soft brush of his lips on her skin, then surely the ruse would be up. He would know how she feels, and so Iris is grateful, not for the first time, that her heartbeat is inaudible to anyone but her.

“Hey Bear, that for me?” she asks, nodding at one of the two mugs.

“Yep. One Americano with an extra shot. Got here earlier and figured we could beat the line,” Barry grins, and he’s looking at her as if she’s the sun, and it’s almost too intense, perhaps because of all of those pesky feelings that she’s been feeling lately, so Iris breaks their gaze, remembering herself as well and turning back towards Patty.

“Patty, this is my friend, Barry. Barry… Patty. We just met on the line.” Barry nods politely, as Patty says,

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Barry responds. “New around here?”

“Is it that obvious? I’m just about to start at CCU as a grad student. And so I’m trying to get used to the city. I’m originally from Midway.”

“Yeah, understandable,” Iris smiles. “Takes awhile to get used to a new place, but CC Jitters is the best, so you’ll never be wanting for good coffee, that’s for sure.” Patty laughs, then,

“Well, I’m glad for that. Anyways, I won’t keep you two. Thank you, Iris, for just chatting with me.”

“Of course.” The three exchange polite goodbyes, and Barry and Iris make a beeline for their favorite booth in the farthest corner from the entrance to the coffee shop; a rather secluded, cozy spot that Iris had first started occupying, when she was a journalism student at Central City University. Barry had been a chemistry major, and they met up every morning for breakfast and would come to study nearly every weekend, armed with cookies, coffee, and blankets. Iris remembers long afternoons spent in this booth, her feet propped up on Barry’s lap, his hands massaging her calves, as they studied in companionable silence.

It was in this booth that Iris had written article after article for The Central Brief, CCU’s university-wide newspaper, including her famed paper on the state of land rights of women, globally, that had won her the Scholastic Student of Journalism Prize and had given her the chance to speak in The Hague at an international conference on human rights. As Iris agonized over her field research, including research accumulated from summers of backpacking, Barry, while studying for his Protein Crystallography final, had been effusive in his support for her. He was constantly breaking from his studies to be her sounding board, should she need one, despite her reminding him time and again that he ought to concentrate on his own finals and not on her. He never listened, though, not that it in any way affected his marks. And so sure was he that her work would be honored that he’d planned a party, months in advance, before she had heard back from the National Committee for Excellence in Student Journalism and before she had been invited to The Hague.

Indeed, it was Barry who had remarked then that Iris ought to consider starting her own news media site after university, stating that she already had the credentials to draw in a large audience and investors.

“How are you feeling? About the exposé, I mean. Today’s the big day and all,” Barry says, as they settle into the booth, referring to what Iris considers to potentially be the most groundbreaking piece of journalism of her career thus far, namely an article exposing the rot of the biotechnology company, McCulloch Technologies. Its CEO, Joseph Carver, has been using the corporation as a front for a highly dangerous and illegal weapons trafficking scheme. The exposé, which is due to be published later today, will be a highly contentious article, no doubt, but Iris had long since decided that she will not rest until she sees justice through and the thousands of innocent people, caught in the crosshairs of Carver’s inhumane crimes, are safe.

“Okay. I’m trying not to think about it, honestly,” Iris replies, and Barry takes her hand for a moment,

“Hey, I get it. It’s hard not to be anxious, especially given the magnitude of the article and the far-reaching consequences it’s going to have. But I am so proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself as well,” he says, running his thumb over her knuckles slowly, before releasing her hand. Iris smiles softly, deeply touched by Barry’s faith in her,

“Thanks, Bear.”

“Of course,” he says, before gesturing towards the gift basket, “So, are you going to tell me who the basket is for?” Iris adopts a playful expression, then.

“Hmmm, it’s for this friend of mine who just submitted his dissertation for his DSc.”

“How did you know I submitted today? I told you my deadline was next week, which it is,” Barry states, apparently incredulous that Iris could have known that he had submitted his paper this morning.

“I have my ways. And by that I mean you drooling on my couch last week and mumbling, half-asleep, that you are definitely submitting your dissertation on Tuesday. Well, today’s Tuesday, Bear,” Iris teases, chuckling at the memory of Barry entering her apartment last week in need of caffeine, which culminated with him staying the night, when he fell asleep on her sofa.

“I really can’t keep anything from you,” Barry sighs in mock frustration. “Although I really wouldn’t want to, anyways.”

“Good. And think about it, now you have this nice surprise.” Barry takes the basket from Iris’s hands, admiring her handiwork, before giving her a sly smile,

“Well, I guess I know why you took those balloons from the reception on Saturday.”

Okay, so apparently she had not gone completely unnoticed. One guest had noticed her attempt to fit three inflated balloons into her car. Unsurprising, she now reflected, given who that guest happened to be.

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Iris. I may not be able to keep anything from you, but you definitely cannot keep anything from me either.” Are you sure about, Iris thinks momentarily, before banishing the thought immediately. For she will not dwell on those feelings again, not when she stands to lose too much if they start consuming her. When Iris looks up again, Barry is looking through the basket, marveling at the baked cake lollipops and banana bread and brownies (Iris can only bake sweets, and she would never subject Barry to her cooking, although he claims it’s not as bad as she seems to think it is), before he takes the red scarf from the basket. “Iris…” he whispers, her name like a prayer on his lips, and there goes her heartbeat again, pounding against her chest. “You knitted this.” And she knows that he already knows that she did, but it’s the way he’s looking at her now, like there are not any words currently discovered to express to her how much this means to him. She gives him a comforting smile, hoping to diffuse some of the intensity of the emotions that are radiating off of Barry.

“Open the rest,” she encourages, and he’s now holding the small, navy blue bag, and removing a velvet box from it. Encased in the box is a watch, which she’d been saving up for, because all of his watches are for some reason broken, and she can hear his gasp, nearly inaudible, and then he’s looking at her, solemnly, gravely.

“Iris… I don’t know what to say. I don’t… thank you,” he says, his tone soft and tender.

“Of course, Bear. I’m so proud of you, and I don’t think this simple gift basket really can quantify how proud I am of you.”

“It’s not… it’s amazing. You’re amazing,” he says, and there it is again. How definitive it is to him that she’s amazing. And perhaps she forgives herself a little for her feelings then, for how can she not feel as she does when he says things like this to her every single day. He’s already wrapping the scarf on his neck and remarking how comfortable and warm it is. “I couldn’t get better knitted scarves at the store. I’m pretty sure you’re a superhero. You can literally do anything.” She listens to him wax on about her many, unbelievable talents, which she’s sure only he seems to think she possesses, before shaking her head, affectionately,

“The scarf looks good on you. Red is your color.”

“Always has been,” he jokes, although the emotion is still evident in his voice. “Come here,” he says then, reaching his arm towards her. She leaves her side of the booth to come over to his, and the moment she’s at his side, he wraps his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair, breathing deeply. She has one arm around his back, the other clutching his sweater, and her head is tucked into the crook of his neck, and Iris is sure that now he must be able to feel how rapidly her heart is beating. She’s cloaked in warmth and in comfort, and all she can think of is home. And all she can feel is love. The kind of tumbling, head over heels into a field of daisies type of love that Iris’s college friend, Cynthia Reynolds (now a hotshot litigator who works in BigLaw and who also is the Citizen’s unofficial legal counsel), claims is simply mushy, fairy-tale nonsense that couldn’t possibly exist outside of movies. Iris had laughed then, telling Cynthia that maybe she shouldn’t be so cynical. Cynthia had been unmoved, steadfast instead in her sentiment that people can fall in love, but that kind of ‘I want to go gallivanting in a forest somewhere and run towards you in a field, as if this is some damn terrible romantic drama’ love does not and cannot actually exist in real life.

Well, Iris is feeling that mushy, fairy-tale type of love now (a fact which shocks her, despite the fact that she’s very aware of her growing pesky feelings), while wrapped up in Barry’s arms, so clearly, Cynthia had gotten it wrong. Oh fuck.

There are approximately fifteen different photos, capturing different angles of the McCulloch Technologies building, sitting on Iris’s desk when she walks into The Citizen that morning, after saying goodbye to Barry at Jitters, and all Iris can think about is the fact that she’s in love with her best friend. And as if her life could not be more complicated in that very moment, Barry is potentially in love with someone else.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

She cannot think about her feelings nor Barry being in love with some mystery human being right now, though, for she’s on the verge of publishing the explosive piece on Joseph Carver, who has been using his internationally successful technology company to peddle a highly intricate and complex hub-and-spoke conspiracy involving arms trafficking. He had managed to slither under the radar of inquiring agencies by acquiring different sorts of obscure technology, including ballistic software and parts that are often used to construct robots for laser guidance, under the guise of developing cutting-edge bio-technology. When Iris’s source had informed her that Carver’s labs were combining methane and ammonia, she knew that there was an underbelly of weapons-related criminality within the globally recognizable technology company, and armed with her pen, pepper spray, and sheer gumption, she and her photojournalist, Kamilla Hwang, had obtained press passes to Carver’s unveiling of robotic limbs. While there, Iris had asked janitors, low-level software engineers, and other personnel about why Carver’s labs were having methane and ammonia react with oxygen and how this in any way ameliorates existing biomedical technology. Iris and Kamilla eventually obtained access to a private press tour of Carver’s labs, where they noticed how jittery the staff had been, and after Iris had slipped her card to some of the employees, she had found herself, three days later, with nearly fifteen whistleblowers willing to come forward about nefarious activities in the labs.

As it turned out, Carver’s labs had been trying to create and had indeed succeeded in creating a gun that releases hydrocyanic acid, which they are currently selling on the black market. This is the latest of extraordinarily dangerous weapons that Carver sells both domestically and internationally. Indeed, several politicians are in cahoots with Carver; Carver having made them rich men, in exchange for avoiding Congressional inquiries into McCulloch Tech.

Now, Iris stands poised to publish the most explosive exposé of her career thus far, and the thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.

She studies Kamilla’s photos of the McCulloch Tech building, now having to decide which one would accompany the headline that is due to go up right before noon. One photo stood apart among the rest: a shot of McCulloch Tech at night, illuminated by the lights of the city, but with only one floor of the building, the top floor, indicating any activity: the lights of the top floor were on, and the rest of the building was largely camouflaged by the night sky. That top floor contained the only working laboratory at headquarters and is where hydrocyanic acid is processed. This is the photo, Iris thinks, just as she hears a commotion at the door and sees her newest hire, Allegra Garcia, forcefully wrangle open the door, rather dramatically, before slamming it shut.

“Hey, boss,” Allegra says. “We have got to get that door fixed. I’m telling you; it’s trying to kill me every time I arrive.” Iris chuckles fondly at Allegra’s dramatics,

“You’re the only one who seems to be constantly battling the door, Allegra. There are four other people who work here who seem to have no trouble getting in and out of the office.”

“Well, I don’t know, but this door has had it out for me since I began working here. And so… oh! Are those the photos? How much time have we got until noon…?” Allegra pauses momentarily, as she taps her phone, which she was holding in one hand, “Forty minutes. Fantastic.” Iris smiles, watching Allegra race up to her desk, excitedly. Two of the reasons that she had hired Allegra was for her enthusiasm about reporting and for her passion for ethical journalistic integrity, both of which she demonstrated every day on the job.

“This is the one I want to use to accompany the article,” Iris explains, while pushing the photograph towards Allegra, whose eyes widen when she sees the photo.

“Yeah, this is incredible. I know Kamilla must have camped out awhile to get this shot,” she exclaims, before looking up at Iris, “We’re really gonna do this, boss. We’re gonna expose Carver and who knows? You might win a Pulitzer from this.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have to publish the exposé first, and our legal team has been sending me messages since this morning about how she is obligated to warn us about frivolous defamation suits that Carver might file in the immediate aftermath. But the truth is more important. Let Carver sue us; if he does, he’s going to lose anyways.” Although, to be completely accurate, the Citizen’s unofficial legal team, comprising of one Cynthia Reynolds, whose texts to Iris consisted of, “Carver is definitely going to sue you for defamation, so I’ve got to warn you of that, but screw that guy. Publish and destroy him once and for all,” were certainly more emboldening than averting. Iris is also quite certain that that is technically not sound legal advice, in the least.

The door opens again, and in walks Kamilla, joined by the two other reporters at The Central City Citizen, Kara Danvers and James Olsen. They’re all chatting animatedly about the exposé and the explosive ripple effects its publication might have.

“He’s an absolute monster,” Kara tells James, no doubt referring to Carver. “I mean, hydrocyanic acid? The sheer inhumaneness of his crimes just to fill his coffers…”

“Evil folks will do absolutely anything to satisfy their greed, including murdering people,” James observes, and Iris knows this is perhaps a fundamental truth of which every investigative journalist must be aware. Kamilla walks up to Iris’s desk and grins when she sees Iris scanning the chosen photo onto her computer,

“That’s the one, isn’t it? When I captured it, I knew I had gotten it. It took me, I think, nearly five hours of camping out, and it was 2:45 AM yesterday when I finally had managed to take that photo.”

“It’s incredible, Kamilla,” Iris praises. “All your photos are great, but this one is fantastic. It captures exactly what we need to accompany the article.” When Iris had taken this on by herself, she had been wary about putting any of her reporters in danger, but Kamilla had insisted that she accompany Iris in order to take photographs. In hindsight, Iris is incredibly grateful to have had Kamilla by her side through it all, for her calm, steady demeanor was vital amidst the insanity of taking on Joseph Carver. Kara and James, who have caught up to the others, both make approving noises, congratulating Kamilla on her photography, as Iris continues to work to format the article.

When she is satisfied with the formatting, she taps her phone, seeing that there is roughly twenty minutes remaining until the deadline, and while her reporters are chattering excitedly, the door opens once more, and Iris is greeted by the sight of Wally carrying two champagne bottles in one hand and precariously balancing a few glasses in his other hand. On his heels is Barry, who is carrying a large white box with the words ‘Zulma’s Pastries’ emblazoned on the top, and Iris is flooded with that fairy-tale, gallivanting in a field of daisies feeling again, to which she now finds she is already getting accustomed, which is a somewhat terrifying thought.

While Iris has some idea as to why both of them are in her office, she is also aware that Dr. Wally West is supposed to be at work at Central City Hospital, and Barry is supposed to be meeting the Dean of Graduate Studies at CCU about a potential professorship.

“What are you two doing here?” Iris asks, smiling nonetheless, for she is touched that they likely took time out of their busy days to celebrate the publication of the exposé. She had not mentioned the details of the publication to them, in an effort to protect her sources, but Linda had let it slip to Wally that Iris is publishing the article on Tuesday at the wedding on Saturday, and Barry… well, Barry knows everything about Iris, just the way she knows everything about him, so his appearance in her office twenty minutes before she is meant to publish the most important exposé of her professional career is even less surprising than Wally’s.

“I can’t believe you thought we weren’t going to come and crash this… pathetic party, quite frankly,” Wally says, frowning as he takes in the Citizen office, which while buzzing with the excitement of determined reporters, is not exactly set up for any sort of impending celebration. “You have nothing here to celebrate, Iris. No food, no drinks, nothing.”

“We haven’t even published, and we have no idea of the repercussions of a piece like this, Wally. I think our sheer grit as reporters is celebratory enough.”

“We knew you were going to say that,” Barry chuckles, placing the box on a desk adjacent to Iris’s, and then helping Wally with the champagne glasses. “But Linda and I wanted this to be a surprise. We managed to get Wally to help, which is good…”

“Linda’s not feeling well,” Wally cuts in. “She was having awful morning sickness, and I told her I didn’t want to go and that Barry could do the heavy-lifting, but she threatened me and sent me away with two of our best champagne bottles.” Iris begins to protest, but Wally continues on, “And honestly, Iris, before you say anything, I’d rather get an earful from you about leaving Linda at home for this— and by the way, she’s feeling much better, thanks to the fact that I’ve finally perfected the art of making a ginger and mint smoothie— than defy her orders.”

“Glad to see your theatrics are still in top form,” Iris deadpans, before turning to Barry, pointedly, “Thank you, Barry. You and Linda really didn’t have to do all of this. I haven’t even published it yet.”

“Excuse me, I helped!” Wally interjects, and Barry is laughing now as Iris reaches up to give him a quick hug, which he returns immediately. As they break apart, Barry’s hand lingers on her arm.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I wanted this to be a surprise and that’s why I didn’t mention earlier coming by later on. And I knew you could have used a distraction this morning from thinking about the exposé.”

“I did need a distraction,” Iris smiles, still keenly aware of his fingers slowly brushing against her arm, gently, tenderly.

“I imagine you did. But to reiterate what I said earlier this morning, I’m so proud of you. So, so proud of you.” He cups her face with one hand, gently caressing his thumb against her cheek, and he’s gazing at her with so much emotion in his eyes, and she knows that the same intensity that had radiated off of him when she’d gifted him the basket earlier this day is emanating from him now, and she cannot help but wonder if he feels what she feels, because in these moments, she’s sure he must be.

Wally clears his throat loudly, while pouring out the champagne, and both Barry and Iris break away from each other quickly. When Iris looks up at Wally, he’s giving her that same look Linda had given her at the wedding reception on Saturday, when she had clarified that her friendship with Barry was different. Unwilling to entertain the idea that Wally and Linda have discussed her feelings for Barry, she turns to her reporters, who were already opening Barry’s box of sweets.

“Brownies!” Kara yelps, eyeing the chocolate chip, fudge brownies and quickly grabbing paper plates from the Citizen’s supply cupboard.

“Thank you, Barry! We really needed this,” James agrees, while Kamilla and Allegra join their colleagues in helping themselves to the scrumptious sweets and expressing their gratitude.

“We’re not going to get any work done today, but it’s fine. Thanks, Bear,” Iris laughs, as Barry hands her a glass of champagne. They clink their glasses together, before sipping their respective drinks.

“The Citizen can use a break. Especially you,” Barry says after a few moments, giving Iris a pointed look. “You’ve had countless sleepless nights over the research for this, and now it’s ready for the public to read. You deserve a whole week long break, at least.”

“The news doesn’t stop for me to catch up on sleep, unfortunately. I have three upcoming potential stories, including the ways in which exam software companies have violated the privacy of examinees.”

“Sounds like you’re about to become the hero of every university student everywhere. I can’t believe the vagueness of some of those disclaimers that exam software companies put out, as if students have any choice but to use them, when they have examinations online.”

“Yeah, exactly. And if nobody holds their feet to the fire, they think that they can get away with anything. That’s why I’ve got to do it.”

“Iris West saves the world yet again. That should be a headline. Maybe I should pitch it to Central City Picture News. Think Scott Evans would run a headline on his biggest rival?”

“Scott would definitely do it, if it brings CCPN good business. Besides, our rivalry is more friendly than anything else. That said, ‘Iris West Saves the World Yet Again’ sounds more like I’m saving the world with superpowers, not the power of a pen and a public audience. I think you might be overselling me just a little bit.”

“Absolutely not,” Barry says, affronted. “Iris West is my hero, and she always has been, so I think you’re underestimating her. She’s a total superhero.”

“Doubtful.”

“Don’t try to tell me that you’re not a superhero, Iris. You’re definitely not going to win this argument.”

“Fine, I’ll level with you. Because you know what they say, right? Every superhero has her own hero? Well, if I am a superhero, then I have a confession to make: my hero happens to be this guy I know… superheroes need strength to be invincible, right? So yeah, this guy is my constant strength. Maybe you know him? Name’s Barry Allen?” Barry blushes furiously at that, ducking his head bashfully, and Iris thinks, Success! She knows she’s rendered him flustered, and he’s so adorably handsome, as he fidgets with his hands, as if searching for something to hold. But even despite his flustered state, he remembers the ongoing debate, and he manages a,

“Alright, alright. You win, Iris.” Iris smiles at him, radiantly and triumphantly, just as Wally makes his way over to them, holding a champagne glass of his own, and he’s got a rather sheepish look on his face, which immediately makes Iris suspicious.

“I know that face, Wall. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Not every expression of mine means something,” Wally says, immediately defensive. “Although, I do have to ask you a small favor. But really, it’s not a favor, because it’s actually going to be great for you. So it’s technically a favor, but a favor that you’ll enjoy.”

“Of course you think so. What is it?” Iris asks, tiredly, knowing immediately that she probably was not going to enjoy this favor as much as Wally seems to think.

“Okay, so you know Cecile’s godson, Eddie Thawne? He couldn’t come to the wedding, because he was away on an emergency business trip?”

“Yeah, I know Eddie,” Iris responds, confused as to what he had to do with whatever Wally was asking of her. Eddie Thawne was the son of Cecile’s best friend, a wealthy hotelier, and he’d been friendly enough in the few interactions that Iris had had with him, but she could not claim to know him all that well.

“Right, so he’s hosting this gala in Metropolis for dad and Cecile this Saturday. It’s very last minute, found out last night, actually… and well, I’d told dad I was going to go, because you know, one of us should go, right? Technically, both of us should, but dad didn’t want to trouble you, because you’ve been so busy with work, and it’s not a big deal. In fact, I think dad didn’t want you to know, because he thought you might get the wrong idea and think that this gala was going to upstage all the work you put in for the actual wedding and reception, which I kept insisting to him you wouldn’t think at all. And I don’t want to leave Linda, even for the weekend. She keeps telling me she’ll be fine, and I know she’s not due for another two months, but I’m not comfortable going.”

“So, you want me to go,” Iris says, knowing exactly what her brother was asking of her. On the one hand, traveling to Metropolis for the weekend for a gala made Iris nervous, because she did not want to leave Central City for at least a week after the McCulloch Tech article was published, but on the other hand, Wally could not be expected to attend, and it would be wrong if both of them missed a gala that was being held for their dad and Cecile.

Wally is apparently under the impression that Iris might need some more coaxing, so he puts his champagne glass down and reaches into his coat pocket, brandishing four plane tickets.

“Here, the flight tickets are on me. Eddie is putting people up in rooms at his family’s hotel, and he apparently booked four rooms between the two of us, so we could each bring some guests. With Linda and I not going, you’ll have at least three rooms to fill.”

“It’s fine, Wally. I’ll go. You’re right; we should go for dad and Cecile, and you honestly cannot and should not go. I just have to find people who can take a trip with me, last minute…” Iris knows whom she would want to invite, and so she turns to Barry, immediately. “Look, Bear, I know it’s short notice, but…”

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Barry agrees quickly, before she can even finish posing the question, and Iris notices that he has a slightly agitated expression, which worries her. His hand clenches the edge of her desk, rather forcefully, and so she places her own hand over his, reassuringly, and this seems to relax him, at least momentarily, as she can feel some of the tension in his muscles evaporate slowly. He smiles, then, perhaps trying to mask his sudden agitation, “My weekend’s free, and we were just talking about how you could use a break, Iris. This’ll be good, as it’s a vacation of sorts.”

“Thanks, Barry. I’ll also ask Cynthia; she could always use a break, and Bear, why don’t you invite someone?”

“I’ll ask Cisco.” Iris glances up at Barry, and they both share a knowing look: they had been trying to get Cynthia and Barry’s old college roommate and engineering genius extraordinaire, Cisco Ramon, to meet for ages (So much for swearing off match-making, Iris thinks then), but they had not had the chance to introduce the two of them yet. This trip might just provide the long-awaited golden opportunity.

“Perfect,” Wally says, considerably relieved, but before Iris can respond, she finds herself surrounded by her fellow reporters who are telling her that it’s just before noon. She nods, waiting until everyone is gathered around her, and Barry’s arm comes around her shoulders, providing her with both comfort and strength. And while a sudden, rather dignified silence, perhaps to mark the solemnity of this publication, descends upon the Citizen, Iris can feel the soundless excitement of Kamilla and of Allegra and of Kara and of James, as she publishes the exposé on the Citizen’s website.

Thus, late that Friday afternoon, Iris finds herself boarding a plane with Barry, Cynthia, and Cisco, in tow, and she’s only half paying attention to Cisco’s exuberance in describing his latest inventive feat at S.T.A.R. Labs, the product technology company he works for, because Barry is acting… odd. He has been acting odd since he had accepted her invitation to come along to Metropolis, and she cannot fathom what it is about this trip that has him so on edge. He is fidgeting so much, and every time he notices that she notices, he gives her a forced smile, as if to divert her suspicions away from his agitation, but that only serves to increase her worries. Whatever is bothering him so much is something that he apparently is unwilling to share with her.

“…It’s insane. I mean, if we get this right, we will be revolutionizing tablet computers and robotic interpreters,” Cisco is saying, and Iris is sure that if Cisco is put to the task, he and his team certainly would get it done, for she had witnessed his genius first hand before, when, during a birthday party for his best friend, Caitlin Snow, a few years back, the power had blown and there had been no backup generator, and Cisco had managed to create a temporary power source seemingly out of thin air. Iris is sure that there were numerous devices at Cisco’s disposal, and he’d had the aid of Caitlin’s then boyfriend now husband, Ronnie, also an engineer, but it was the sheer ingenuity of Cisco’s engineering ability and the sheer determination to get this done and to ensure Caitlin had the party that she deserved that was so impressive.

“If anyone can get it done, though, it’s Cisco Ramon,” Iris voices her thoughts, and Cisco smiles proudly,

“Thanks, Iris. It’s definitely going to be a lot of work, but I definitely think we’re headed in the right direction. Hopefully.”

“Hmmm, it all sounds impressive, but what are the patenting ramifications that come with such a unique project. Surely, you’re worried about somebody trying to build upon your product once it’s out in the market. How stringent is your patent going to be?” Cynthia, ever the cynic, adds, eyeing Cisco.

“I don’t want to hog all the spotlight, honestly. We want other people and companies to be able to build on our findings and develop even better tech. There’ll be a patent, but it’s not going to be exclusive.”

“You’re way too nice.”

“I’m just here to improve tech. Being nice isn’t a crime, I hope,” Cisco laughs, and Cynthia shakes her head fondly, clearly believing Cisco to be naive, but apparently endeared to his naiveté nonetheless. Cisco and Cynthia, still playfully arguing about the stringency of a future patent, take their seats in the middle row, and Iris and Barry, the latter who is still distracted, sit by the window across the aisle.

“Bear, what’s going on?” Iris sighs, finally, turning to him, once they’ve taken their seats. Barry looks up at her, startled and guilty, and immediately starts deflecting,

“Nothing. I’m fine, Iris, really. I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit out of it. Just… I don’t know, I’m fine.” Iris can tell that he’s not going to be forthcoming with her, no matter how persistent she is, but she is not ready to drop the issue entirely.

“I’m not going to press you, but you know that if something is bothering you, I’m always here, if you want to talk. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that. Of course I do,” Barry says, his voice tender. “And I’m the luckiest guy in the world for it. I’m sorry that I’ve been out of it the last couple of days, I just… I don’t want you to worry about me. That’s the last thing I want.” Iris can tell he’s struggling between telling her and being evasive, so she takes his hand in her own, their fingers interlocking almost instinctively. She squeezes his hand, as his thumb brushes against her knuckles.

“I’m going to worry, because it’s you, and so I can’t not worry, but I don’t want you to tell me anything when you’re not ready to.” Barry’s free hand comes to cup her chin, as he brings her closer to him, and she basks in the warmth of his hand against her skin. When his lips meet her forehead, she closes her eyes and relishes in his lingering kiss, and she knows… she knows that she’s unequivocally in love with him, and she’s sure that she has been for quite some time, and all she wants to do is lift her face and coax his lips to hers, but she can’t. She knows that she can’t. She can’t ruin their equilibrium, because if she were to admit her feelings and lose Barry’s friendship completely… that is a possibility that she cannot risk.

“I know how deeply you care. And I love you for it,” he whispers against her forehead. And I love you for it.

He’s told her he loves her so many times over the two decades that they’ve known one another, and she knows that he means it platonically, as he always has, but that doesn’t stop her from imagining that he loves her in the same way that she loves him.

And when Barry falls asleep, after the plane takes off, and drops his head, so it rests comfortably on her shoulder, his face turned into the crook of her neck, so that she can feel his steady breaths fanning against her skin, Iris leans her head against his, and she thinks that this is what true tranquility feels like.

And I love you for it.

#westallen #westallen secret santa #submission

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