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#okay well that's a lie i also smeared some on my fingers n squinted at it in the dark n was like 'that's awful dark. it might be blood'

xmalereader · 4 years

Text

Thomas Shelby X Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Requested: Heya, can i request a thomas shelby one where the reader is new to the gang and Thomas starts getting feelings for him but tries to suppress it until they have to go on a dangerous mission and the reader gets hurt? Love your writings and hope you have a great day❤

Warnings: Language, blood, slight angst, some fluff, reader being sweet, Thomas being protective.

Tags: @ravnulfjohansen

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“Protection?! We don’t need any bloody protection!” Ada shouts at Thomas, slamming her hand on the table as she glared at her older brother.

The Shelby’s were having a family meeting, lately things have been getting dangerous. Thomas has been making deals with other gangs and he may or may not have betrayed a few, so now he needs to focus on his family’s safety.

“Ada this is for your safety,” he glanced at Polly and then back at ada. “Polly will also have protection.”

Polly chokes out a laugh. “I’m sorry? I can protect myself Thomas, I don’t need protection.” She clarified, taking Sip from her drink as she frowns deeply.

Thomas sighs deeply as he rubs his temples. “He’ll only be following you and keeping a close eye, I trust this man and I know that he’ll complete this job.”

“Who is this man?” Said Polly with a raised brow.

Thomas gives her a look before sitting back in his chair, he knows that he shouldn’t have said anything. Not only is he trying to protect Polly and Ada but he’s also putting someone that he cares deeply for in danger.

“An old friend.” He simply says as he stands up from his chair and collects his cigars. “Tomorrow morning you’ll be meeting him here, he’ll be around to guard you two and he’ll report to me in case anything is to happen.” He explains to his sister and aunt who only huff in annoyance.

“Until tomorrow.” He repeats hismelf and leaves the room. He adjusted his cap and steps outside where he takes in a large inhale of fresh air.

“I wouldn’t really breath in this disgusting air, it could kill you.”

Thomas turns his head to face the source of the new voice, his lips slowly twitch up into a smile. “Y/n.” He says in a soft voice.

“Thomas.” The other replies as he approaches him and stands close to his side. His eyebrows raise as he examines Tommy’s face and hums. “I take it that your sister and aunt didn’t like the idea of me being around, huh?”

Tommy’s smile fades away into a frown. “No.”

Y/n lets out a deep sigh and rubs his hands together. “Don’t worry, I know they hate this idea but maybe I can get on their good side? It’s my job to protect your family, I promised you that I would.” He gives Thomas shoulder a pat, smiling widely at him.

Thomas could only stare at the younger man. He knows that y/n can protect his family but he’s mostly worried about him. The two have been friends for years and no one in his family knows about it! He was afraid of getting him involved with his family problems.

But he can’t refuse y/n when he needs his help.

“Why are you packing?” Thomas suddenly asks as he enters y/n’s flat, taking notice of the packing as y/n bites his lip nervously and moves around his room, grabbing small stuff and putting them inside his suitcase.

“Do you remember my job back at the post office?” He asks as Thomas nods, tossing his coat on the bed and taking a seat.

“Well, turns out that they didn’t need me anymore so they decided to fire me.” He explains his situation to Thomas who sat quietly on the bed. “I still had some money left to pay off for my room but I slowly started to run out, I’ve been looking for a new place and a new job for awhile now but I’ve gotten nothing!” His voice starts to raise. “I don’t have a choice but to move to the country side...I called my brother and he said that he had an extra room for me, told me that I could stay their until I find a job.”

“So, you’re leaving?” Said Thomas as y/n stops mid pack, turning to look at Thomas. He notices the sad look in his eyes, causing him to give off a small sad smile. “Tommy...” he approaches him and places a hand over Thomas’s bigger ones. “I can’t stay here, I can barley afford this place.” He whispers out.

“Stay with me, I have enough room back at my place.” Thomas suddenly says as y/n shakes his head. He didn’t want to be a bother and he defiantly didn’t want to surprise Tommy’s family with him being around. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You won’t be.” Thomas pulls him close, wrapping an arm around his waist as he pulls him onto his lap, causing a dark blush to appear on y/n cheeks. “Thomas, even if I stay with you—id still need to find a job.”

“I’ll give you a job.”

“W—what?” Y/n eyes widen.

“You know what I do and I trust you, I trust your loyalty and I know you’ll be perfect for it.” Thomas lies his head against his chest as y/n ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to be honest, I’m not really good with money.” He chuckled out tiredly as Thomas smiles against his chest. “You won’t be doing that.” He muffled out as y/n rasies a brow. “Then what will I be doing?”

Thomas lifts his head up. “You Can become my sister and aunts guard, keep them safe while I’m gone doing business.”

“Oh, Tommy I don’t—“

“I’ve seen you fight, you’ve taken down people twice your size and you know how to handle a gun.”

Y/n blushes a little and sighs deeply. “Fine, but I make my own rules.”

This causes Thomas smile to widen a bit more. “Deal.”

He remembers that night clearly, the two planning out everything in case anything bad was to happen. All y/n was suppose to do was keep a close eye on his aunt and sister and not get in the way of any of their little ‘activities’.

“Promise me you’ll be safe.” Said Thomas while y/n chuckles. “I can handle myself and a pair of girls Thomas! No need to get worried.” He gives Thomas a smile. “Things will be okay, I promise.”

But things were not okay.

The day that y/n was meant to guard the girls was the same day that a few of Tommy’s own men decided to betray him and use the girls as bait, but of course the first thing they had to do was get rid of the guard, which was y/n.

On that same day he actually got to know Polly and Ada a bit more and the two actually liked him in return. He was a stunning man and a caring one, he spoke softly to the two and offered to carry their things when they bought new stuff. He was a gentleman and the two adored it, they thought he was special since most men weren’t like that anymore.

The girls decided on having some tea outside the shop where they can enjoy their day while y/n stood next to the small table, smiling at the girls as he listens to them gossip about their family. “Thomas is always making us stay in the shop, do you know how frustrating it is having to deal with cranky men?” Said Ada To her aunt as she rolls her eyes and lights a cigar. “Men are always rude when it comes to betting.” She says in return.

Y/n chuckles to himself which catches pollys attention. She looks up at him and smiles, “of course not you y/n, your different.” She points out as y/n shakes his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” He quickly apolgizes but Polly waves her hand. “Dont apologize!” She says. “To be honest, I wonder why tommy chose you as our personal guard? He said that he trusts you.” She sits up in her chair, leaning forward as she rests her elbows in the tables. “Theirs something about you that tommy likes.”

Y/n feels himself grow anxious, both him and Thomas have been friends for years and the way they first met was very weird and childish, you could say but through out the years he’s grown to love tommy. But of course he couldn’t tell him that, he didn’t want to lose the friendship they had.

“Tommy’s a good friend...he helped me when I needed it the most and I’m greatful for that.” He’s quick to tell Polly. Hoping that she doesn’t figure out about his unrequited love.

Polly can only stare, letting out a puff of smoke as she grins and slowly sits back. “Whatever you say, darling.”

Y/n rasies a brow and tilts his head. What was that suppose to mean?

He opens his mouth to ask something but is cut off by a car approaching. He looks up to see Thomas and his brothers exiting the vehicle, his eyes scan the brothers and notices the hint of blood smeared in their clothes. Once his gaze turns to Thomas the two make eye contact, causing y/n to smile a little at Thomas. Glad that he’s okay.

Smiling at Thomas, he notices a strange man approaching them from behind. It causes him to squint his eyes a little, noticing the gun the man was holding as realization hits him. His eyes widen in fear as he takes a step forward.

“Thomas.” He calls out softly as the man raised his gun up and aims at tommy from behind.

Y/n has no time to process things as he sprints towards Thomas, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him to the side. Causing the other to stumble back as a gunshot is heard.

It takes Thomas a few seconds to notice y/n’s limp body in the ground. His fears becoming a reality. “Y/n...y/n?!” He shouts out in worry as he crawls to his side and slowly turns him on his side to see a gun wound on his shoulder. “Fuck!” He curses out in anger as he looks around.

His brothers were dealing with the man that shot him while Polly and Ada rush to side. “Oh my god.” Polly tries to take y/n from Thomas but he wasn’t letting go, he couldn’t.

“Thomas we need to lie him down and stop the bleeding, you have to let him go.” Said Ada as she stares at her older brother, noticing the fear in his eyes as she slowly pried him off y/n. “Finn has already called for an ambulance, they’ll be on their way.” She explains, using a part of her dress to apply pressure onto the wound.

Thomas can only stare in horror, “is he—is he breathing?” He asks, his voice shaking in fear. Ada takes notice of that as well and makes a quick check, “he’s still alive...but he needs a hospital quick or else he won’t make it.” She turns to her aunt and brother.

Polly looks anxious as she turns to Thomas only to see him sitting back, he was growing dizzy and faint. His vision was slowly going dark as he hears his aunts cries, feeling her hands on his shoulders as she tries to keep him up but that didn’t seem to work. “Y/n.” He looks over at his friends limp body as Ada begins to scream his name, trying to bring him back to reality but it was alreayd too late. His vision suddenly goes dark as he falls back on the floor.

“Tho—“

“Thoma—“

He can hear his name being called.

“Thomas!”

He’s quick to open his eyes, staring at his aunt who stood Over him. A drink in hand as she sighs in relief, “finally you’re awake.” She says as Thomas groans. He slowly sits up from the couch and asks. “Where’s y/n?” He remembers everything that happened today, all of the anxiety that he had suddenly comes rushing back.

Polly sits next to him and hands him the drink. “In the hospital, doctor said that he’ll be awake soon, Just needs time to rest and to heal.” She explains as tommy takes the drink from her and chugs the whole thing down.

Polly watches Thomas closely as she takes the empty glass from him and sets it down on the coffee table. “Y/n.” She suddenly says, catching Tommy’s attention. “That boy, he’s caring and loving.” She mumbles out. “He told me that you two were friends, but I know that’s a lie.” She slowly turns to give Thomas a look that he knew far too well.

“So tell me, what is y/n to you?”

Thomas can only look away, not wanting to answer his aunt but he knows that he’ll have to tell her how he really felt or else she’ll force it out of him. The two have been friends for as long as he can remember, the two helped each other out. Y/n taught him how to be free without having to fear, he taught him what love really was. He was their when Thomas needed someone and when he had breakdowns that no one else knew, He was special to him he’s—

“—my everything.” He randomly blurts out.

Pollys eyes soften as she stands up and collects her things. “Then you tell him that, he’s a sweet boy and I can tell that he means a lot to you, Thomas.” She approaches her nephews side and placed a hand in his cheek, stroking his cheek like a loving mother would. “When he wakes up, you tell him how you feel and be happy.” She whispers, placing a soft kiss on his head. “Now rest, will visit the hospital Tomorrow. I told John and Arthur to stand guard at the hospital in case anything were to happen.”

Tommy’s eyebrows knit together. “Do they know?” He asks Polly who shakes her head. “I doubt your brothers know a thing, hell they could barley figure out that Michael was their cousin when they first met him.” She says, a bit disappointed that her own nephews couldn’t recognizes their own cousin.

“Get some rest Tommy, I don’t want you out of this place until morning.” She warns with a pointer finger as tommy groans, leaning his head back, he was still worried for y/n and he wanted to see him and make sure that he was really okay.

“Thomas.”

He hears his aunts voice and looks up to see her with a soft look in her eyes. “He’ll be okay.” She says, Immediately knowing what he was thinking as she gives him one last smile and leaves the room.

#thomas shelby x ftm reader #thomas shelby x male reader #male reader #thomas shelby #cillian murphy x male reader #cillian murphy #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x male reader

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deadontheinsidebut · 4 years

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You’re my boss? Part 1

Pairing: Bokuto x fem!reader

au: Bokuto is the head of a big company in Japan and his serious and professional demeanor is able to stop anyone in their tracks. You end up promoted to his personal assistant and he’s immediately entranced by you. What happens when he shows you a side that’s not so serious. How will you react?

Genre: fluff but also suggestive nsfw and a whole lot of spice I guess :) throughout the series

Disclaimer: hi guys this is just part 1 and the Bokuto you know and love from Haikyuu will pop out soon!! :)))) we’ll go more in depth with this Bokuto’s backstory in part 2 so stay tuned.

Your life would soon be changed forever. After being promoted to be the personal assistant of your cold and distant boss, you couldn’t help but feel slightly vulnerable at the thought. Bokuto Kōtarō was the biggest CEO in town and he was notorious for his inability to smile. You, being the adorable cinnamon roll you were, were shaking like crazy to meet your boss. After all, you’ve only been working under his other assistants before being randomly promoted due to the shortage of assistants.

When you made your way up to the top floor to meet your boss, you felt slight shivers trying to imagine what he looked like up close and personal. When the door swung open, you saw the ice cold eyes of the gray-haired man lock onto yours and you were stopped dead in your tracks. He was beautiful. His eyes reflected a mysterious aura that resembled an owl and his hair slicked back like a gray mountain. His shirt was buttoned up and his tie was tight around his neck.

You took a big gulp as you approached him. His eyes followed you as you made your way across the room. His stoic expression did nothing to reassure you. When you finally stood right in front of him, his deep, clear voice interrupted the silence.

“Ms. l/n, you’ve been working on the second floor as (assistant’s name’s) assistant right?”

“Y-yes sir.”

God, that was so stupid why did you say it like that??? Ugh what if he thinks you’re so unprofessional now?? What do you do??

He noticed your slight twitching and let out a deep sigh. You saw his eyes look at something behind you and he spoke once again.

“Ms. l/n, you will call me Bokuto. From now on, you’ll be my personal assistant and will report directly to me. But for now, just sit and watch so you’ll have an idea of what to do.”

His voice was not demanding in the slightest. Actually, he sounded quite soothing. You felt your body relax at his words.

“Thank you, Bokuto. I promise I won’t disappoint you!”

He smiled a bit at your declaration and went back to looking at his paperwork. You could see that he was really dedicated to his work. According to your old boss, Bokuto was able to leave the office anytime he wanted, but he always stayed many hours after everybody else in order to get more work in. You wondered if that ever caused a strain on his health.

As you unknowingly continued to stare at his face, he grumbled and turned to you.

“Oi, my face isn’t a piece of artwork. Go get me a can of beer if you’re bored.” (Haha his face is beautiful wdym)

“YES! Sorry sir!”

You scrambled to the vending machine to grab him a beer and you didn’t know which one he liked so you got one of each!

The bewildered look on his face when you came rushing back in with seven different types of beer cans in your arms was a sight to remember.

“Let me pay your back for those, Ms. l/n,” Bokuto said nonchalantly.

“No no, consider it a thank you for the promotion, sir,” you reply with a smile on your face.

You might be going crazy but you swore you could see a slight dust of pink on his cheeks.

“Very well. Thank you for the gift,” he says as he pops a can open.

You didn’t even notice that Bokuto has gotten through all seven of the cans and 2 piles of paperwork because you were starting to doze off. It was not until you felt a sloppy poke to your cheek that you jolted up.

The gesture was from none other than your cold-hearted boss. His eyes were dazed and he looked pretty drunk. It was almost 3am and you could feel yourself about to pass out.

“Hey y/n, you’re faaaaalling ashleeep on the jobbbb. Thas not allowed! Lemme take you...home okay?”

Then sound of your first name in his mouth was delightful and you could feel your stomach churn. Oh god what dirty thoughts were you thinking of with your boss of all people???

He starts to stand from where he was squatting beside you but he was wobbling like crazy.

“B-bokuto be careful!! Let me help you!”

But it was too late; Bokuto had fallen right onto you and you both fell over with a thump. You expected it to hurt but his hand was supporting your head to break the fall. You gasp at the proximity and try to scooch your way out from under him to no avail.

“Bokuto, we need to get up. Can you stand?”

He lets out a muffled sound of annoyance and you sigh. So this was the oh so tough Bokuto Kōtarō? He was more like a big baby. Your brows furrowed as you stared down at the man lying atop you and you felt an indescribable urge to touch his hair. The hair he had put up with gel was now tousled and undone. You cautiously ran your fingers through his hair and he hummed in response beneath you.

This was wrong on so many levels. This was your first day meeting your boss and you were already stuck in this intimate position. His hair is so soft omfg. You continued to feel his hair when he jostles from beneath you.

“What’s happening?” His groggy voice interrupts the the silent atmosphere and you’re now 50 shades of red.

“F-FORGIVE ME SIR!!! YOU FELL ON TOP OF ME AND I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

You didn’t want to get fired on your first day so you figured some sort of explanation was in order.

Bokuto doesn’t appear to be listening but instead, he’s rubbing his eyes and squinting at you as if to make out who you were and why you were in his office.

“Ah, I see. Thank you for your help then,” he checks his watch, “it’s 3am, let me take you home.”

“Is that alright? No offence but, you’ve had way too many beers tonight. I’d feel safer if you let me drive you home.”

Surprisingly, you were met with little argument and soon enough, both of you were cooped up in your little ride. You started up your car and was about to ask him where his house was when you turned to see a dead asleep Bokuto by your side.

Once you got there, Bokuto was snoring loudly and you had to hull his heavy body towards your door. All your volleyball practice in the past literally amounted to you being able to carry your boss into your house at 3 in the morning.

You flopped his body onto your couch as you tried to catch your breath. You stared at him for a moment and you couldn’t help but think that he must’ve been so uncomfortable in his work clothes. You chastised yourself for your next thought, and what happened next was a surprise.

You started loosening up his tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. You could feel his chest muscles brush against your knuckles everytime you undid a button and hear his breathing turn into a slow and steady rhythm.

After you were done helping him, you stood to get ready for bed when a strong hand gripped onto your wrist and pulled you downwards. The force wasn’t enough to make you fall but you quickly turned your head to your sleeping boss.

He was still fast asleep, but his body was shaking and his forehead was creased as though he were in a lot of pain.

“Father, please, please don’t go..” he whispers. His voice trailed off and you can hear the slight crack in his voice.

You felt as though you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear or unlocked and emotion that wasn’t meant to be seen by a mere assistant.

When he wouldn’t let go of your wrist, you settled for sitting on the floor beside him. When the twitching and murmuring didn’t stop for another couple minutes, you find yourself stroking his hair again. He’s calming down and his slumber is becoming peaceful.

Before you know it, you’re falling asleep right on the floor with your new boss gripping tightly onto your wrist.

You awoke to the sun beams from your living room window. Your eyes are squinting as they try to adjust to the light and you look around the room. And oh my lord the sight before you was not one you see everyday. You were on your couch wrapped in a button-up with your SHIRTLESS BOSS MAKING BREAKFAST IN YOUR KITCHEN???? What in the wattpad is happening??? Wrong platform

“U-um, Bokuto-san, what’s going on?” You ask meekly.

“Oh, good morning Ms. l/n. I hope you like bacon and eggs because that’s all I know how to make,” he says nonchalantly.

“Anything is fine but, would you like your shirt back?”

You hastily unwrap yourself from his shirt and drape it over his shoulders. He’s significantly taller than you so you’re on your tippy toes trying to reach him.

He’s looking at you with gentle eyes before focusing on the eggs once more.

You’re a flustered mess as you make your way into the bathroom. How did this happen? Last time you checked, you had placed Bokuto onto the couch and was sitting on the floor beside him while your sleep talking boss held onto your wrist. He must’ve moved you when he woke up. His cologne lingered on your skin from where his shirt touched you.

You’re looking in the mirror and you look like a mess. Your hair that was once tucked neatly into a bun was undone. Your makeup had smeared and your clothes were ruffled. Oh god your boss had seen you in this state.

You quickly tidied up and put on the only other clothing that was appropriate for your office job which so happened to be a blouse and pencil skirt that sat snuggly on all your curves. You couldn’t lie, you looked smoking hot.

You mustered up the courage to face your boss and was met with a pair of astonished eyes. He was looking you up and down as though he were meeting someone new. Your hair was too messy to put back into a bun so you were left with brushing it down enough so that it looked like natural waves. You were never insecure about your looks before, but the eyes of this man made you feel naked.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and said, “um, are you ready to go now?”

Bokuto clears his throat at your words and nods his head.

As you arrived to the building, you could feel the eyes of all the other employees glued to you in confusion as the two of you stepped out of the car together. Bokuto had already switched to cold-mode and walked towards to the entrance without waiting for you. Poor cinnamon roll was left to fend off the judgemental coworkers alone. But could you blame them? They were used to their big boss never interacting with anyone unless it was business related but here he was, coming out of a girl’s car with unkempt hair and wrinkly shirt.

As you caught up to Bokuto, you tried to strike a conversation in hopes of easing the tension but he was definitely in no mood to talk. His eyes were glued to the direction he was walking in and he always seemed to march a few strides ahead of you as if you keep you at a distance. No one would believe you if you told them that this man was the one cooking you breakfast this morning. Not that you’d tell anyone, though. You had enough on your plate without having people assuming that you slept your way to the top.

When you both reached his office, he was at his desk starting his paperwork with no instruction for you.

You stood in silence for a couple minutes before speaking up, “excuse me Bokuto, what do you suppose I do in the meantime?”

He glanced up quickly and stared at you with boredom.

“I’ve printed out sheets of this month’s financial report. Please go retrieve them for me.”

“Of course,” you reply as you scurry to do just that.

The retrieval of the report was an easy enough task and you wanted to be efficient in returning but you were stopped by a familiar coworker.

“Y/n-chan, I heard you’ve been promoted to the big boss’s right hand woman. Looks like I’ll have no way to look at your sweet ass anymore, huh?”

“Terushima-kun, I am in no mood for any of your games right now. Please move aside.”

He’s smirking now and backs you up against a wall with one arm beside your head.

“Don’t get too cocky sweetheart. Just because you’re our boss’s bitch now doesn’t make you any better than the rest of us,” Terushima whispers against your ear.

You’re now hugging the papers close to your chest as some form of protection. You whimper and close your eyes as you feel his hand caress your cheek but it’s cut short when a big figure cuts in between you and Terushima.

Bokuto is standing in front of you and gripping onto the hand that was once caressing your face. Terushima’s expression shifted to one of fear as he began to realize what was happening.

“B-boss! What’s up? It’s a lovely day isn’t it?”

“Save it,” Bokuto sneers at him, “you’re lucky I don’t fire you right here and now. The next time you decide to harass my assistant, you better consider the consequences because next time, I won’t be so generous.”

Bokuto releases Terushima’s hand and grabs onto yours as he drags you away.

“Sir! Thank you for the help!”

He doesn’t reply until you reach his office. He kind of looks irritated as he stares at the floor.

“Bokuto-san! You were so badass back there! Thank you so much for saving me. And oh! I got your papers!” You exclaim with a bright smile on your face.

You’re pushing the stack towards him in earnest and he’s staring at you like you’re giving him the moon.

He suddenly bursts into laughter, “you were almost harassed and you’re praising me?”

His laugh sounds childish and genuine. When he laughs, his face lights up like a kid that has just got a new toy.

“But it really was cool, huh? I was so ready to punch the guy. Mannn that rush of adrenaline brings back so many memories!” Bokuto is going on like you’ve never seen before.

Your eyes are starry as you stare at the enthusiastic Bokuto. When he catches you staring in amusement, he is quick to fix his tie and shift back to business mode.

“Ahem, anyway. What’s done is done. Let’s get back to work.”

The moment was nice while it lasted. You felt as though you had seen a side of Bokuto that has not been awakened for a long time. You glanced at him occasionally while sorting the paperwork, and although he did not look back, you could see the slight trace of a smile on his lips everytime you stared.

Oh boy, you were in for a long ride. And you weren’t complaining. There was definitely more in store for you and your cold-hearted boss...

a/n: come back for part 2 coming soon!!! :)))

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venushasvixens · 4 years

Text

Leather and Embers and Coffee (Kylo Ren x Reader)

“I have a large cold brew for Leo.”

This morning in the cafe you worked in was very busy for a Monday. It was like the minute you turned your back to make a drink, there was another customer coming in. It was supposed to be you and your coworker Ein, but called to tell you he was going to be about an hour late, which irritated you to the max. Working in the cafe down the street from Starbucks, you were always going to get those customers who try to order a Strawberry Acai with extra fruit, or a S'mores Frappuccino with no whip.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we don’t carry that drink.” you would say.

And then it was like they went through the 5 stages of grief, all in about 5 seconds. You’ll get the “well I ordered it last time and you all made it,” or the “the coffeehouse down the street makes it, why can’t you?”, or your personally favorite, “Starbucks is better than you anyways.”

You still got a good amount of business, since your coffeehouse was more homey and the prices were lower, so it didn’t really bother you. You could carry a shift by yourself, since you’ve been working here for the past few years and such. It wasn’t that hard or grueling. The only thing bothering you today was Ein calling and that was it.

You just finished helping a customer when a group of men all dressed in suits walked in, a threatening jaunt in their step. In the middle of the group was a man with red hair, a scowl smeared on his face. His face conveyed so much annoyance, it seemed you could hear what was going through his head. You could also tell that he was rich, seeing as his suit looked like it cost more than your rent, which was already overpriced for a studio.

He glanced around the cafe, surveying the people. He took a few more steps in, shooing away his bodyguards. You continued making the drinks when you saw a tall man with wavy, dark hair walking in. This was one of your regulars, who came in around the same time everyday, and ordered the same thing. You smiled at him, giving him a small wave. You could remember his order in the middle of this mess. It was a cafe mocha with extra chocolate syrup, and occasionally, a croissant. A He gave you a small nod, his version of a hello. His corners of his lips twisting into what you think was either a smile or he was just making a face at the crowd surrounding you.

The red head turned to your regular, speaking lowly but closely to him. The regular leaned in, listening to all he had to say. As you shelled out drink after drink, the crowd became smaller. It was then that the redhead sauntered over to the register, tapping his finger on the counter. You wiped your hands on your apron.

“Good morning, how can-” you began. He lifted his hand to ignore you.

“Americano with an extra shot of espresso.” he said, “should be easy for you.”

“And a good name?” you asked.

“Some people should already know my name, but I’ll spare you the embarrassment. It's Hux, H-U-X.” he muttered.

Okay, already hating this. As you tapped his order into the system, he began tapping the counter with his metal debit card, sighing.

“Okay, that is 4.00 dollars.” you said. He tossed the card on the counter, making a clinking sound as it hit the surface. A smirk rose on his face.

“Did you hear that sound?” he asked you.

Biting your tongue, you replied. “What sound, sir?”

“That’s the sound of making real money in the real world. In an actual business.” he said proudly.

You just nodded, swiping his card so you can make his coffee and he can leave.

“You know, I just started working in that building across the street, so this may become my little hangout.” he said. Oh, great.

“Oh, sweet!” you said, plastering a fake smile on your face. “This really is a nice place to sit and relax.”

For some reason, you felt yourself regret your choice of words.

“Ah, yes. Relax, people watch, checking out some nice girls like yourself.” he said quietly. You caught that last part, and wanted to pour your freshly brewed french press on his smug face.

“Alright, here you go. Well, I hope to see you again soon!” you said cheerfully.

As you hand his receipt, his fingertips gently brushing the top of your hand.

“I hope so too, (y/n).” he smirked.

I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home I want to-

“Hello.” you heard.

You looked up to see your regular standing in front of you, his arms crossed. He flashed you a small smile.

“How are you? It's been a minute since I saw you.” you said, smiling.

“Since yesterday, nothing much has happened.” he replied.

“Better to have nothing happened to have something happen.” you said.

He shrugged. “Nothing did happen, and he’s standing over there.” he mumbled.

You leaned over the counter, trying not to look too suspicious.

“Are you both working together?” you whispered.

He bent down to whisper, he cologne smelling of burnt leather and cinnamon. The scent was so warm and welcoming, you almost forgot you were in a coffeehouse and not by a fireplace at Christmas.

“Unfortunately, yes. I’ve already decided to find a way to get rid of him.” he whispered.

“Get rid of him? And how do you plan on doing that?” you said quietly, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“Make it look like an accident and hide him far, far away. No one will miss him, except the cat.” He smirked.

You nervously laughed. “Should I be concerned?”

His smirk quickly faded. “Oh, no no no. I was joking, I promise.”

“You had me in the first half, not going to lie.” you chuckled.

“Me? Nah, I could never.” he replied.

“Unless?” you grinned.

“Yes, (y/n), unless.” he smiled.

You haven’t seemed to notice Hux striding to the counter.

“What seems to be the hold up?” he muttered, “we have places to be, get on it.”

Taken aback by his sudden appearance and new found anger for you, you felt your cheeks get red in what you think was anger or embarrassment.

“I-i’m sorry-” you began, but was cut off.

“She’s still helping me, thank you. And she’ll get on it when she’s done helping me.” Ren said, a small clench in his jaw becoming more noticeable. There was a small silence, then Hux let off a sigh.

“In that case, Ren, I’ll order for you. Another Americano, same as mine. Just so you don’t waste anymore of my time.” he ordered. With a snap of his fingers, you nervously wrote Ren’s name on his cup.

“And this one is on me. Take this as a first day gift from yours truly.” Hux smiled, throwing his card like he did before. As you ran his card again, he checked his Apple watch, shaking his head.

“Will you look at that, Ren?” he held up his watch right in Ren’s face, “they need me back. Do me a favor and grab my coffee?”

Hux walked out, swinging the door open. You turned back to Ren, who was looking very upset. You couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment, anger, or annoyance. Maybe it was all three at once.

“I’ll be okay. Just thinking of that good hiding spot.” he said.

“So am I, just let me know when you do it so we can celebrate.” you chuckle. He walked to the pickup spot, his arms crossed. As you started Hux’s drink, you decided to do something special. You secretly placed a croissant in the microwave, glancing up to see if he was watching. You didn’t mind the way Ren looked at you. There was nothing malice or creepy, above all it was more awe and watching you work. Instead of making another Americano, you began to steam some milk and pulled out the chocolate syrup.

You placed Hux’s and Ren’s drink in a small holder, as well as a bag.

“Here a gift from us for being a loyal customer.” you smiled. He looked in the bag, seeing his croissant.

“Oh god, thank you. This means a lot, (y/n)” He beamed, placing 15 dollars in the tip jar.

“Anytime.” As he started to walk off, you waved your hand. “Oh, wait!”

“Yes?” he said, turning around to look at you.

“Can you tell me how your Americano tastes? Just to be sure it's alright.” you said.

“Oh course, I never had it before, so-” As he tasted it, he put his head down, but you could see he was blushing.

“Soo, what do you think?” you asked.

“It's the best thing I ever tasted.” he said, taking another sip.

With you, you didn’t hide blushing at all. “Thank you so much. Tell me how it goes.” you said, referencing his little problem.

“Oh trust me, I will.” he smiled, waving bye.

You waved back, watching him leave. As soon as he walked out, you let yourself think of what happened. You kept replaying your conversation over and over. You did this every time you both would talk. It was a nice pastime to ease the boredom. But what kept popping up in your head was his smile. He didn’t smile much, just a little chuckle and maybe a slight upturn of the corners of his lips sometimes. So maybe you did something really good today.

You heard the clicks of Ein’s footsteps rushing behind you.

“I was a goner for a second out there. Has the rush started yet?” he asked as he put his apron on, his face flushed.

“You just missed it, sweets. It wasn’t all that bad.” you smiled, handing him a small cup of coffee.

“Thank you, I need this.” he took the cup and gulped the entire thing. He squinted his eyes at you suspiciously. “You have that look in your eye, the one that kinda scares me. What happened?”

You told him about your recent encounter with your favorite regular, as well as your new hatred for his coworker.

“You’re such a sweetheart, (y/n). I’m telling ya, he really has a thing for you. One day he’s going to come in here, get on one knee and ask you to marry him. No dating, nothing, just straight to the wedding.” he said.

“He does have the money to pay for it on the spot, sooo..” you and Ein laughed. After your giggle fest, you began to clean the counter from the rush. You were cleaning around the register when you spotted it. A small, metal card, with the name Armitage Hux inscribed on the front. Oh no.

AUTHOR NOTE: Yes I wrote a coffeeshop au. Did I enjoy making it though? Absolutely. You can find more of me on Wattpad underneath the same name. I’ll be going back and forth, but Wattpad is just so much easier to manage. Please stay safe out there, mwah!!

#kylo ren #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x reader #ben solo #armitage hux #luke skywalker #rey #poe dameron #finn #general leia #han solo #chewbacca #lukeskywalker #the force awakens #last jedi #rise of skywalker

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kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

September 18th

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: none, maybe some cursing but that’s about it. Begins during 4x01 Lazarus Rising.

Summary: Dean Winchester is the last person to ever believe in love at first sight, but when a hand hell’s pull him from the earth, he lays eyes on y/n, and everything changes. glimpses of memories are all that is needed to understand their story.

A/n: you guessed it! Another song fic! This one was based on Louisa by Lord Huron. Please enjoy! ( also its a hot mess so have fun!)

Song link: https://open.spotify.com/track/4BzUOXsZ3DqryXFi1bB5aV?si=C1tGnKhLS2WI9EZCI11gLA

When Deans soul was marked for hell, the last thing on his mind was falling in love. Even before that, he just didn't think it was in the books for him. He was a hunter, and he couldn't let himself go getting attached to anyone, and it also wasn't like he had found anyone that truly connected with him.

There would only be a small handful of people who would miss him when he was gone. He wasn't a celebrity among the hunter community by any means. Dean Winchester was just a shadow, a ghost moving through towns, solving cases and saving the day before anyone really knew what was going on.

He was just a nameless hero. He would go out guns blazing and that would be that. Life over.

Good for nothing is the name they'll remember me by Done nothin' with my life for no one, I'm just waitin' to die I turned my back on the world You know I'd given up on livin' til I met you girl

September 18th, 2008. That was the day you met Dean Winchester. The day your life changed forever.

It was supposed to be a milk run. Just a simple case, but when you came across the blast site you knew it was going to be anything but simple.

It looked like a bomb had gone off. Trees were knocked over like they were tooth picks, the earth dead and dry within the space. But what really caught your attention was the man laying in the center of the blast site. Chest heaving and covered in dark soil.

“Holy shit-“ you breathed, slipping your gun into your waist band as you raced across the ground.

He must have heard you coming, because once you were close enough, he attempted to lung at you, failing miserably due to his loss of strength from fighting against the coffin. You dodged his half-assed attempt, pinning him back against the ground.

“Who the hell are you?” He growled, trying to blink the remaining dirt from his eyes.

“I should be the one asking that. I just saw you crawl out of the ground.”

Then you came into my life with come hither in your eyes Pulling me outta the grave what a nice surprise I die when our nights end, but I only stay dead til I see you again

Once the dirt had left his eyes, Dean squinted under the blinding midday sun, trying to see who exactly had him pinned to the ground. It first it was just a silhouette, but then as his pupils adjusted he felt his breath catch in his throat. His struggle against you hold ceasing.

Your face was smeared with dirt from his sudden struggle, big y/e/c eyes looking down at him as the wind blew several loose pieces of hair across your face, the sun outlining you in an almost golden trim.

“Where am I?” He spoke slowly, for some reason finding it hard to break away his eyes from your own.

“Just outside of Pontiac, Illinois.” You informed him, your tone firm as you spoke, “now, once again, who the hell are you?”

“My name is Dean Winchester!”

That’s when you froze. Your grip on him loosening as you rolled off of him, “No offense, but you’re supposed to be dead.”

“Well no shit Sherlock.” He coughed, brushing off some more dirt from his clothes as he pushed off front he ground, extending his hand to help you up, which you accepted.

Once you were on your feet, Dean was finally able to tear his eyes away from you, suddenly scanning the surrounding area.

“Who are you and what the hell happened here?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N. . . And the hell if I know. I heard rumors of a blast site outside of Pontiac and came to check it out. Sounded weird enough.” You admitted, quickly pulling your hair into a low pony tail as you talked.

“Why?”

“I’m a hunter. Weird is kinda my thing.” You shrugged.

When he looked back over to you, he felt his heartbeat pick up suddenly. He blamed it on his adrenaline from crawling out of the ground. He didn’t know you at all, and he found himself drawn to you like a moth towards flame.

I lie awake in the night just to see another dawn Used to be the sun was my weakness but them days are gone I feel your lips on mine Will you meet me by the river, baby, one more time?

“Am I ever going to see you again?” He asked slowly, leaning back against the car you had helped him jump start, eyes ever so slightly lighting up.

He didn't understand it. He had known you for maybe three hours now, and he was completely entranced by everything about you.

You gave him a surprised look, fishing into your back pocket and pulling out a poorly folded sticky note, you jotted down your phone number, passing it over to him with your index and middle fingers. “You've known me for what? three hours? and you’re already asking for my number? You really don't waste time do you Winchester?” You mocked, backing up towards your vehicle and flipping your keys.

“Its not like that!”

“You keep telling yourself that, Cowboy. Good luck out there!” slamming your drivers side door shut, you revved the engine before putting the car in drive and taking off down the empty stretch of back road, but not before blowing the jade eyed hunter a kiss.

Once again, At that time, Dean didn't know how much you would effect his life. The two of you would run into each other so often that you finally both agreed that it must be fate. A deep friendship blossoming from being the one to pull him free. And he found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you each time your paths crossed. Eventually you just stuck around, and that made his heart and the very bones in his body shake.

September 18th, 2008. That was the day Dean Winchester began to believe in love at first sight. Because that was the day he met you.

I'll give you what you wanna have, I'll take you where you wanna go I'm the only man you'll ever need, girl, and now you know I'll write your name on my skin, as a promise that we'll never be apart again

“Damn it, y/n! You just had to barge in guns blazing didn’t you?!” Dean huffed, tearing the mid section of your shirt to take care of the new gash in your abdomen.

You let out a burst of light laughter, amused by his worry as he popped open the first aid kit, “You guys were getting your asses handed to you. It was just a couple of werewolves.” You breathed, wincing as Dean rubbed an alcohol wipe across the wound, not caring for gentleness. He was mad at you. . . Again.

“Yeah, a couple! Look at you! Your bleeding out!” He snapped, his hands working fast to clean and close the wound.

“No need to get so upset-“

“Well it’s a little late for that sweetheart!” Slamming the kid of the kit closed, he gave you one of his famous death stares. One of which you got way too often.

Swallowing, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, “I’m sorry, Dee. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” You mumbled, eyes begging for his forgiveness.

Deans shoulders fell along with his face as he let out a sigh. The anger was now gone, quickly replaced with concern and worry. Instead of pushing up from the ground like he normally did, he leaned over, pressing his forehead against yours, “I know, I know. I’m sorry I got mad. I just freaked out when I saw you hurt.” He admitted.

“Well, I’m okay because of you. You saved me. . . Yet again.”

I feel alive when I'm with you, baby So tell me that I won't ever be lonely again Don't wanna die I wanna wander the world with you And no one else for the rest of my days on this earth

The sound of the bunker door opening, followed with a string of laughter told Sam that you and Dean had just returned from the supply run. It was always the same each time you returned.

Closing the laptop in front of him, he turned in his seat, watching the two of you descend the metal stairs, arms full of grocery bags as you continued to laugh.

“I’m guessing the supply run went well?” He mused.

Dropping the bags on the table, you looked at the younger Winchester with wide eyes, “Dean slipped and fell on the ice outside!” You blurted, doubled over in laughter once more as Dean sidled up next to you, shaking his head as a massive smile took up his features.

“Alright, get your laughter out.” He grinned.

“He’s a total klutz!” You wheezed.

Rolling his eyes, Dean stepped forward, wrapping his arm around you and throwing you over his shoulder in a fireman's hold “Alright, you and I are gonna go and have a talk.” He chuckled, beginning his walk down the hallway.

“Oh, are we?” You mocked, your voice fading as the two of you disappeared into the depths of the bunker. Another burst of laughter echoing down the hall before being cut off by a slamming door.

A small smile tugged on Sams lips as he turned back to his work. Ever since you had come into his brothers life, Dean had seemed happier, more full of energy and life, even during hunts and hard times. He was grateful for you. They both were.

I turned my back on the world I wasn't always like this, girl Do you know what loneliness does to a man? Turn him into the walking dead I may have died but your lovin' raised me

“You stubborn, stubborn idiot!” You whispered harshly, falling to you knees next to a very unconscious Dean Winchester, “you just had to go and get yourself knocked out.”

The case had been going fine. Hell, it had been going great. Two hunters. Two vampires. Halfway through your fight with them, your partner had to lose focus, resulting in him getting his head slammed into a door, rendering him useless for the rest of the fight. Luckily you had taken the second one down with ease. . . But now You had a 180 lb mass to take care of.

Taking the loose flannel that was tied around your hips, you quickly tore it down the middle, being careful as you went to wrap it around the gash on his head.

“You stupid, stupid idiot.” You sighed again, taking in deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself.

“Would you quote calling me stupid and stubborn?” He groaned suddenly, green eyes fluttering open to look up at you.

And then you slapped him, the sound almost echoing through the empty barn, resulting in a light yell from Dean as he grabbed your wrist.

“What the hell!?”

“That was for not listening to me, and getting yourself hurt!” You snapped, before quickly pulling him upright and into a hug. “Don’t do that!”

“God, you’re insane. . . and I am completely in love with you.” Dean sighed, resting his hand on the base of your neck before pulling you back down to his lips.

I feel alive when I'm with you, baby So tell me that I won't ever be lonely again You saved my life I just wanna repay you in kind Ain't no one else ever tell you you're beautiful, girl?

He didn’t know how long the two of you had been sitting there, but one thing was for sure; he didn’t want this moment to end.

You and Dean had been sitting on the hood of the impala for what felt like hours, watching the sun set behind the trees. What used to be a lovely apricot sky, was now a deep navy blue, almost black. The star scattered sky felt like a blanket laid across the earth, and neither of you could bring yourselves to go inside.

Tearing your eyes away from the heavens, you looked over you shoulder at Dean, a light smile on your lips, “Didn’t you bring me out here to ask me something. . . Like a few hours ago?”

“Yeah, yeah . . . But if you want to just keep looking at the stars, that’s fine.” He grinned, his hands still deep in his coat pockets as he fidgeted with the small item tucked within. Unfortunately you quickly caught on to his uneasiness, sliding over the hood of the car and turning your body to face him.

“Alright, what’s going on?”

He wasn’t good at these sorts of things. . . Then again, he never really had done anything like this. It didn’t help that you made him a nervous wreck. You were so beautiful and badass. You rendered him speechless more times than he cared to admit.

Slowly he took his hand out of his pocket, opening his palm to show you the ring resting in the center. It wasn’t elegant by any means. In fact, Dean had made it from solid iron.

His nerves only grew when you didn’t say anything. After a moment he felt your fingers graze the skin of his palm, picking up the small piece of jewelry.

“Did you make this?” You breathed, turning it over in your hands as you looked at it, the moon giving off enough light to allow you to see it properly.

“Yeah. I know you don’t do fancy, so I made it out of iron.” He explained, watching a massive smile light up your face. That was a good sign, right?

“Dean Winchester are you asking me to marry you?” You smiled, quirking your eyebrow as you smiled at him.

“Been meaning to for awhile. . . But yeah, I am.” He nodded.

His heart stuttered in his chest when you moved to open his palm, slowly surrendering the ring to him once more. “Y/n, wait-“

“I think you should do the honors.” You smiled again, extending your fanned out fingers.

Dean let out a sigh of relief, shoulder instantly relaxing, “oh thank god. I thought you were saying no there for a second.” He breathed, taking your hand so he could slide the cool band over your ring finger.

“I could never say no to you.” You smiled, gripping his hand in yours as you looked over at him.”But I do have one question, there was something engraved on the inside of it, what did it say?”

“September 18th.” Dean spoke plainly, squeezing your hand, “Because that’s the day I met you. The day I started to believed in the love at first sight. . . It’s also the day I plan to marry you on.”

I feel alive when I'm with you, baby So tell me that I won't ever be lonely again Don't wanna die I wanna wander the world with you And no one else for the rest of my days on this earth

The End.

SPN Taglist: ( Still open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @neerness @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #spn x reader #supernatural #bi-danvers0 #bi-danvers writing

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afterglowwritings · 4 years

Text

Tied Together With A Smile | Stiles Stilinski

A/N: Please don’t read this if any of the dark themes trigger you. I love all of you and I really don’t want y’all to. This was previously posted on my main @beemysunshinex .

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader x Appearance from Scott McCall

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warning(s): some fluff, angst, swearing, comforting!stiles, insecure and depressed reader, mentions of self-harm, mention of cheating bastard.

“Please pick up, Stiles..” I whisper under my breath while holding the phone to my ear. I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my sweater and the phone rings a couple more times but then goes to voicemail. I hang up and put my face in my hands. I let the tears run down my cheeks because honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. I knew getting in a relationship again was a bad idea but my friends coaxed me into giving him a chance. Why was I so fucking stupid for trusting him?

My phone starts to ring and I jump at the sudden vibration in my lap. I look down at my phone and saw Stiles picture pop up on the screen. I click the accept button and put the call on speaker.

“Hey, Stiles…” I said sniffling.

“Hey, Y/N/N, you alright? You seem upset…” He said worriedly. I sighed and started to tear up again.

“Are you busy r-right now?” My voice falters and I just let my tears fall because he’ll eventually find out anyway.

“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in 5.” He says quickly and hangs up.

I get up from my bedroom floor and walk to the kitchen. I stop in the hallway and wipe my eyes so hopefully, he doesn’t notice that I was crying just a few seconds ago. I enter the kitchen and see my dad, sitting on a stool at the island with a cola in his hand. I sit down across from him and he looks up at me, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong Y/N/N?” He tilts his head while setting down his cola can on the marble counter. I sigh and run my finger through my hair. I try my best not to show that I was upset or heartbroken because he already has enough on his plate.

“Stiles is coming over to talk to me and help me with a project I’m struggling with…” I lie. I look at my dad trying to get him to believe me. He has a way of figuring out when I’m lying. He squints his eyes a bit but nods. I mentally sighed in relief. “We are going to be on the porch, which means I need to go get my textbook out of my car. I’ll be right back.” I get up from the stool and grab my keys from the hanger by the front door. As I was about to walk out the front door, my dad grabs my arm gently and pulls me into a hug.

“I’m here to talk if you need me Y/N/N...whatever you’re going through it’s going to get better.” He hugs me for a minute and let’s go of me. I give him a small smile and a nod. Just then I hear a vehicle pull into our driveway, I look out the screen door and sure enough, there is Stiles already halfway up our driveway. I walk out and my dad is right behind me.

“Hey, Stiles!” my dad calls to him as he is getting in his police cruiser. Stiles waves and smiles at him. I turn and sit down on one of the porch chairs while watching my dad turn on his radio. Stiles walks up the porch steps and sits down next to me in a white rocking chair. I wait until my dad is out of the driveway and halfway down the road before I break down again. I let all my emotions come out. Stiles was in front of me in seconds making the rocking chair rock back and forth so hard it was hitting the siding of the house. I cover my face but he removed them seconds later, making me look at him.

“Y/N/N, what happened?” He says softly, still holding my hands in his. The memory comes back in flashes and I shake my head, trying to remove the scene in my head.

“He cheated on me, Stiles…” My voice trails away back into the scene in my mind. Stiles makes a noise between a growl and a sigh. He wipes my tears away with the sleeve of his navy blue jacket.

“Scott and I had a bad feeling about him from the start, but we didn’t tell you because you looked happy and cheerful, that’s something we haven’t seen in a while since your mom passed. We just wanted you to be happy.” He pulls me into his arms and holds me. I wrap my arms around his torso and bury my face into the crook of his neck.

“He cheated on me with some girl in the same Biology class as us. I don’t remember her name…” I sniffled and Stiles started rubbing my back. He smooths down my hair and leans his head against the side of mine.

“How did you find out, Y/N?” He pulls away and looks into my eyes. I take a shaky breath and sigh.

“I walked in on them, you know..” I lowered my gaze to my hands, thinking back to seeing her on her knees in front of Dylan, naked and his pants pulled down to his ankles. A few tears escape down my face. Stiles face turns a crimson red and his eyes get darker.

“He is a dead man.” He looks at you once again and some of the anger subsides but is still enraged. My tears start to slow down and my mind is going in 50 different places. I look up at Stiles and he is texting someone, most likely Scott, telling him to get his ass over at my place.

“You texting Scott?” I said softly, my nerves calming down. I pull my sweater sleeves over my hands and sniffle. Stiles looks up from me and nods. The anger in his face disappeared but the disappointment set in. Stiles really wanted you to find happiness because you deserved it and he knew that. I get up from the chair, heading towards the front door about to get some water until I heard a Mustang drive into my driveway. Stiles stands up and is glaring at the car that just pulled in. Scott pulls in just after the Mustang and Stiles stands in front of me, as Dylan gets out of his car. Scott slams his car door and walks up to Dylan, ready for a fight. Dylan was standing his ground when him and Scott got in his face.

“What makes you think you can just go sleep with some random girl while dating Y/N!? Are you fucking kidding me?” That is when I decided to intervene because I knew if I didn’t then it will end very badly.

“Dylan, you need to leave right now!” I stood next to Stiles, holding onto his jacket so he doesn’t go charging after Dylan. “Scott! Back down!” I yelled at both of the boys.

“Y/N, he deserves his face beat into the concrete!” He was looking at me in disbelief but I motioned him to come here. Scott backs up first and walks up to the porch where Stiles and I am.

“You heard her! Leave! You fucking prick!” Stiles yelled, his face going back to that color, crimson red. His fists were balled up, waiting for me to let him go. I pull Stiles inside the house and I have Scott come in too. Dylan yells after us but I slam the door before he could say anymore.

“You two need to calm down, I know he cheated on me but you two do not need to be getting in fights outside of my house! My dad would kill both of you and then me!” I plopped down on the couch and ran my hand through my hair. I hear Scott get into the fridge and then sit down next to me along with Stiles sitting on my left side of me.

“How are you handling this better than we are?” Scott says and looks at me curiously. I shrugged and thought about it for a second.

“Honestly, I don’t know but what I do know is that I appreciate both of you coming to comfort me and help me through it. Oh and willing to kick a guys ass for me. That was really sweet…” I smile and side glance at Scott and then at Stiles.

“You know, I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic right now or if you’re being honest..” Scott chuckles and Stiles chimes in laughing also. I roll my eyes and smile.

“I’m being honest. That was very sweet of you two to want to protect me and I really appreciate that from you. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.” I sigh and take a sip of my cola that I left on the coffee table earlier.

~little while later~

“Well I have to get home or my mother will have my head…literally.” Scott sighs and stands up. I nod and give him a hug. “Call me if you need anything, Y/N/N. Okay?” I nod and smile at him. Stiles sits up and looks at me. I raise an eyebrow at him and I sit down slowly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He pulls me close to him and holds me.

“Stiles? What is going on?” I pull away and look at him. I furrow my eyebrows, trying to figure out what he is doing.

“Y/N/N, I saw your arm when your sleeve was raised a little bit. I just want to make you feel loved because you are. I don’t want you to ever think you’re alone. You’re an amazing girl and you deserve someone who is going to treat you right and I hope maybe you find him or her soon.” He smiles softly at me and lifts my sleeve, exposing the scratches on my forearm. He gets up and gets the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink. He comes back and has it already open getting band-aids and some triple-antibiotic.

“I love you, Stiles.” I blurt out, instantly my face turning red. He smiles and looks at me.

“Wow. That took you long enough to figure out.” He chuckles. I playfully punch his arm and smile.

“Oh, shut up Stiles, it probably took Scott smacking you up the back of your head for you to realize you didn’t actually like Lydia…” I rolled my eyes and turned my head to the tv. I could see him smirking out of the corner of my eye.

“Well, now that you have that prick out of your life...want to go to the movies?” He said nonchalantly. I give him my arm for him to clean and put bandages on, I smile at him.

“Wow. Already trying to get a date with me.” I laugh and he glares at me, then smirks. He smears the triple-antibiotic on my forearm gently and placing band-aids on my arm.

“You’re the one who said I love you first..you can’t just blurt that out and then expect the guy not to ask you out…it doesn’t work like that.” He grins.

“Whatever, Stiles…” I smirk.

“So is that a yes…?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I let out a small giggle and nod. “By the way, I love you too.”

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #comforting!stiles #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x oc #one shot #fluff #angst

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hrina · 6 years

Text

Il Devoto (Il Ritorno III)

PAIRING: Alex/Y/N RATING: R as hell WORD COUNT: 16k+ REQUESTED: oh fuck yes!

after about 89 years, i am back with the FINAL PART of il ritorno!!! if there’s one thing i learned from writing this, it’s that i’m absolute shit at estimating how long a one-shot will be (i thought this last part would come out to maybe 8k maximum, and it’s actually double that).

i want to thank all of you who have liked this story, and especially those who have reblogged it to spread it around and who have sent me such sweet messages! i’m actually speechless at how well-received this whole project was, so thank you from the bottom of my heart 💓😭

if you like this, please don’t hesitate to leave me some feedback! also, here’s my masterlist if you want more !! without further ado, let’s get on with the fic :’)

il ritorno (part 1) / l’amato (part 2) / apericena (extra)

~*~

“Can feel yeh staring at me.”

You stiffen, and a hot flush erupts over your chest. You open your mouth to say something, but any potential excuses evade you.

Alex cracks open his left eye, the corners of his lips kinking into a smug smirk. He’s laying on the bed to your left, his stomach pressed flat against the mattress and his cheek squished against one of your fluffy pillows. You’re on your back, your head turned towards him—you’d wanted to study him while he slept, and you had hoped that he would remain unconscious long enough to allow you the opportunity.

Of course, things are never that simple.

“Wasn’t staring,” you mumble bashfully, though the both of you know that it’s a blatant lie.

“No?” Alex muses, his irises glazed with drowsiness. You can’t help but to notice the deep octave of his voice, and his tone sends shivers down your spine. “Could practically feel yeh burning a hole through m’head, love.”

“Piss off.” You deliver a half-hearted blow to his side, but it does no real damage. Alex simply chuckles before letting out a quiet yawn and rolling over. You gasp loudly when half of his body bulldozes over your own, and you push lightly at his shoulders as you try to wrestle him off.

“What’re you doing?” you hiss, but there’s a smile pulling at your lips, “Stop it!”

“Just checkin’ the time,” Alex replies gruffly, but you can hear the amusement in his words. He casts a glance over at the alarm clock standing on your nightstand and hums when he sees that it’s nearing seven in the morning. When he peers over his shoulder, he notices the first few orange rays of the sunrise peeking through your window.

“You’re insufferable,” you groan when he finally turns over and pulls his weight off of you. Alex cocks an eyebrow, placing his head in his palm so that he can keep himself slightly elevated.

“Weren’t sayin’ that last night, y’know.”

You gulp. You hate him. You really, truly, hate him.

Except…you don’t. Not even a little bit.

“Shut up,” you say, rolling over on the bed so that he can’t see the embarrassment morphing your features. Alex just snickers lowly, shifting closer to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. Your breath hitches in your throat when he presses his body firmly against you, and you can feel something hard and unyielding nestled snugly against your bum.

“Don’t be like that, now,” Alex scolds, but you know that there’s a stupid grin on his face. He brushes your hair away from your back before planting a steady kiss to the nape of your neck. His fingers drum against your stomach over the material of your nightgown, and you shiver when you feel his hand begin to trail south.

“We can’t,” you whisper quickly, catching his wrist with shaky fingers. As much as you want to feel him again—really feel him—you know that Tommy and your parents are sleeping in rooms just down the hall. If your noises don’t wake them, then the sunlight certainly will—either way, the situation can only end with your father taking the barrel of his pistol to Alex’s head.

Alex releases a soft moan of protest, and you hate the way the sound travels right down to the apex of your thighs. He lays his palm flat against your mound, the only thing separating your skin being the fabric of your nightgown (your panties are still discarded somewhere on the floor). Despite your previous objections, you bite harshly on your bottom lip and keen upwards into his touch. He chuckles victoriously.

“’S cute, how much you want me,” he tells you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. His index finger dips between your legs, and you reflexively clamp your thighs around the digit, preventing him from going any further.

“Stop,” you warn, but the breathlessness of your voice lets him know that you don’t mean it. Alex nips teasingly at your earlobe, and you purse your lips together, feeling the walls of your cunt flutter around nothing.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight when Alex blows out a warm sigh.

“Will yeh at least kiss me, then?” he asks. You peer over your shoulder, meeting his inquisitive yet hopeful eyes.

“Haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” you say, your tone small and subdued. Alex just shakes his head, and before you know it, his hand is gripping tightly to your hip. You gasp quietly when he pulls you over, your back now flat against the mattress as he clambers on top of you.

“Alex!” you giggle, muffling the sound with your palm. Alex just grins boyishly at you, his knees on either side of your torso so that he can keep you boxed in underneath him.

“Don’t care about some bloody bad breath,” he says, and then he’s tugging gently on your wrist. You allow your hand to fall away from your mouth, and Alex smirks arrogantly as he leans down and smears his lips against yours.

He really doesn’t care about the quality of your breath in the morning. He doesn’t care about the fact that your hair is tangled and ratty, and that your eyes are still squinting up at him drowsily. He doesn’t care that your reflexes are a bit slow from having only been awake for a short period of time, and he doesn’t care that your voice is slightly raspy from sleep.

He loves you, despite these things. He loves you because of them.

A low hum resonates in your throat as you slowly loop your arms around Alex’s neck. You subconsciously arch your back up into his chest, and he cradles your face with one of his hands. A moment later, you’re dragging yourself away from him, gasping out for air while he chuckles.

“It’s not my fault,” you say, inhaling deeply, “How the hell can you hold your breath for that long anyways?”

As soon as the question leaves your mouth, you both stiffen. Alex gulps and tucks his lips into a fine line, and suddenly, the pillows behind your head become significantly more interesting than your eyes. You sigh and squeeze your eyelids shut, your lips curling down into a scowl.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I wasn’t thinking.”

A beat of silence passes before Alex clears his throat.

“’S okay,” he murmurs, rolling off you, “Don’t worry, ’s okay.”

You open your mouth, seconds away from blurting out a few more apologies, but Alex just smacks his lips against the corner of your mouth to keep you quiet. You give him a soft, regretful smile, and he returns it while thumbing gently at your cheek.

“I need to tell yeh somethin’,” Alex starts. His eyes are trained on your torso, though when he looks back up at you, you’re shocked to see turbulent vulnerability in his gaze.

You nod, encouraging him to go on. Alex takes and deep breath and opens his mouth, but then a loud creaking sound echoes through the house. Your eyes widen, and Alex sits up straight, his heart pounding erratically. Footsteps patter down the hall, growing terrifyingly loud as the person passes by your bedroom door. Judging by the weight of the treads, you assume that it’s Tommy.

You’re proven right when the footfalls move past your room, and then the bathroom door shuts softly (your parents have their own washroom attached to their bedroom, so there’s really no need for them to step outside into the hall).

As soon as the lock clicks into place, you and Alex scramble up out of bed. He searches the floor for his abandoned t-shirt, finally finding the material discarded near the foot of your dresser. You usher him over to the door, hissing at him to move quickly.

“Hurry up!” you whisper, beckoning him with rapid movements of your hand.

Alex nearly trips over his own feet as he tugs his shirt over his head—you briefly mourn the fact that you can no longer see the toned skin of his torso. He stumbles over to you, seconds away from colliding with the door, but thankfully you’re able to catch his arm and pull him back. You place your index finger against your lips before leaning forward and pressing your ear to the wood of the door.

Tommy’s still in the washroom. If he goes downstairs and realizes that Alex isn’t laying on the couch…you don’t know exactly what will happen, but you know that it won’t be good.

This is your only chance, really.

“Be careful, okay?” you tell Alex quietly, beginning to turn the knob on the door. He nods; his eyes are shimmering with panic, but he still ducks forward and brushes his lips against yours chastely before slipping out of your room. You swallow heavily, finding the brief contact to be comforting.

You watch as he tiptoes down the stairs, surprisingly silent for a man who’s just over six feet tall. When he’s out of sight, you close the door softly, leaning back against the wood and blowing out a sigh of relief.

Too close, you think to yourself, gnawing harshly on your bottom lip, Too fucking close.

~*~

“Think your mum would fancy us bringing home fettuccine? Always tellin’ me that she wants to explore Italian cuisine, she is.”

“Why not?” you hum, scanning the aisle for long, thick strands of pasta packaged in blue. You give a faint, triumphant whoop when you find the product resting only a few feet away. Alex follows you as you rush towards the display and grab a few bags from the shelf. A lopsided smirk stretches his lips when you turn around to deposit the pasta into the small shopping cart that he’s pushing.

“Thanks for coming with me,” you tell him shyly. Alex’s smirk grows into a grin, and you suck your lips into your mouth nervously. He’s just so damn attractive—his smile makes your heart do somersaults beneath your ribs, and you find it extremely inconvenient.

“Wanted t’be with yeh,” Alex says nonchalantly.

He peers past your head before glancing over his shoulder, realizing that there’s no one else occupying the aisle. You step back when you see the mischievous glint in his eyes, but you’re not fast enough. He lurches forward, his lips just grazing against yours in a half-hearted attempt to show affection. You gasp, nearly tripping over yourself as you press your palms against his chest and push him away.

“Alex!”

“C’mon, love,” he protests, snickering, “’S barely anyone else here.”

“You’re mad!” you hiss, but you can’t stop your mouth from curling up into a bashful smile. Alex just cackles; his left eyelid drops down into a playful wink, and you can’t help but to put a hand to your cheek (of course, your skin is hot).

“Gotta live a little, darling,” Alex teases, “’S important to—”

“Alexander?”

Alex freezes, his words fizzling out. Your brows knit together, and you squint over his shoulder to find whoever has cut into your conversation. Alex turns around slowly; he prays that you don’t notice the way his throat bobs in agitation.

The man is short, standing at about five and a half feet—you might grant him a few more inches if you’re feeling generous. His hair is gray, though he’s not balding. He leans on a wooden cane for support, a shopping bag clutched tightly in his other hand. His brow is furrowed, and there are deep-set bags beneath his eyes. His eyes…

His irises—despite the sallow, sunken state of the rest of his face—are bright and attentive. They’re green, the colour of sea foam frothing wildly against rocks. There’s something eerily familiar about them, but you can’t seem to put your finger on it.

“Alexander,” the man croaks out again, his lips parting in awe. Alex is stiff, the muscles in his back rigid as he stares stonily at the stranger. You’re confused, gazing between the two men and not quite understanding why Alex has turned so cold.

“Alex—,” you start softly. You lay your hand on his forearm, but then the man standing in front of you speaks again.

“You’re alive.”

“Yeah,” Alex says tightly. From where you’re standing, you can see the veins in his neck protruding, and the way something in his jawline twitches furiously. Your hand tightens on his arm, and you squeeze gently in hopes of bringing him back to you.

It works. Alex blinks once before craning his neck to look down at your face. You’re peering up at him with wide, nervous eyes, and he puts a hand on top of yours to reassure you. “’S okay, love,” he mumbles, his thumb drawing comforting circles along your knuckles, “Let’s—let’s just go, yeah?”

“All this time…”

Your head snaps to the side when you hear the stranger with the memorable eyes blurt out the words. Alex grinds his teeth together, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from you so that he can focus back on the older man standing in front of him.

“What?” Alex asks, his voice dangerously low, “What is it?”

“All this time,” the man repeats, his eyes full of amazement, “I thought—thought you were dead.”

“Well, ’m bloody not.” Alex’s lips curve down into a deep scowl.

“Alexander—”

“C’mon, Y/N,” Alex grits out. He spins on his heel, finding your hand and gripping it tightly. You stumble forward in surprise, reaching for your small shopping cart so that you can tug it along. Alex grunts, shaking his head and glaring at you sternly.

“Leave it,” he tells you, his tone harsh, “Leave the fuckin’ food.”

You release the cart, but only because you’re so shocked. He’s never spoken to you like that before.

Alex leads you out of the grocery store, your hand still clenched tightly in his. You want to protest (you think he might be cutting off blood flow to your fingers), but you can’t seem to find your voice. He only frees you once the two of you reach the car, stomping over to his side of the vehicle and wrenching open the door. He slides into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut—the force of the action rattles your bones.

You say nothing as you quietly slip in beside him, playing anxiously with your fingers while he pulls out of the parking lot. You swallow down the lump in your throat, your toes curling in your shoes. Alex’s knuckles are a ghostly white on the steering wheel, and his back is stiff against the seat. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, your eyes on the road and your hearts pounding erratically.

“Alex,” you finally whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. You desperately hope that you won’t regret opening your mouth. “Who was that?”

Alex grumbles nonsense under his breath, gnawing fiercely on his bottom lip. He doesn’t look at you, choosing instead to keep his gaze trained on the car driving in front of yours. Several long moments pass, the silence drawing out almost painfully, and you begin to accept that he’s not going to share anything with you.

But then Alex lets out an unsettled sigh. That same muscle in his jaw makes a reappearance, ticking rapidly as he flexes his fingers against the wheel.

“M’father,” he grunts out, gritting his teeth nastily, “Was m’fuckin’ father.”

~*~

He hasn’t touched upon it since.

He can’t bring himself to do so. He knows it’s not fair to you—you deserve the truth. You’ve been nothing but supportive and kind since you’d first offered him a place to stay. Everything about you exudes warmth, from the way you chastely kiss him goodnight to the bashful yet knowing smiles you give him across the table during dinner. You’re worthy of his honesty—you ought to know.

But he can’t.

He likes to think that he’s returned to his normal state. The first few days had been painfully awkward—you’d tiptoed around him, casting nervous glances his way and speaking slowly to avoid any rocky subjects.

Alex had allowed this nonsense to continue for a bit, until he just couldn’t stand it anymore. He missed you.

He’d snuck into your room the third night, silently slipping inside. You’d been surprised (he hadn’t come back since that first morning, when the two of you had nearly been caught), but he’d shushed you with a long, bruising kiss. You kissed, and kissed, and kissed, until he’d successfully lulled you to sleep with the ghost of his lips still on yours.

(He’d crept back downstairs afterwards, not wanting to try his luck. Staying in your bed for the night was too risky.)

And that seems to have done the trick, because you’re finally treating him like an ordinary person again.

Though, of course, all good things must come to an end.

The five of you are sitting at the dinner table—Alex, you, Tommy, and your parents. Tommy’s in the middle of an absolutely riveting story (at least, everyone else seems to think so—Alex is more interested in the way you’re brushing a strand of hair behind your ear). Your gaze is trained on your brother as he rambles on about how the mail boy had nearly toppled off his bicycle while delivering the morning paper earlier that day. Apparently, Tommy had seen the whole thing from the porch.

Alex thinks that he may be exaggerating a bit, his tone a bit too flamboyant to be entirely truthful. Still, he keeps his mouth shut.

You place your foot gently atop on of Alex’s, and he nearly chokes on his meatloaf. He peers up at you with eyes that contain both affection and astonishment. The both have you may have exchanged silent, knowing looks across the table before, but contact has never been initiated.

Until now.

Tommy says something that makes you laugh, and Alex blinks himself out of his stupor, trying his damnedest to pay attention. A part of him is terrified that the adoring glances he casts your way are painfully obvious, but a bigger part of him is unable to stop.

Christ.

He loves you.

“Mortified, he was!” Tommy grins, and Alex really, truly tries to listen. “Looked like a ripe tomato as he rode away!”

You laugh, stifling the sweet sound with your hand. Alex wishes that you wouldn’t. Your giggles are one of the few things that make him genuinely happy.

Just then, there’s a loud, sharp knock at the door. The noise is startling, and it makes your mother jump in surprise. Her fork slips from her fingers and clatters against her plate.

“Lord,” she mumbles, chuckling a bit at herself. She starts to push back from the table. “I suppose I’ll go see who that is.”

“Please,” Alex blurts out, standing up abruptly, “Let me.”

“Oh,” your mother’s mouth quirks up into a confused but grateful smirk, “Thank you, dear.”

Alex tries for a smile, nodding at your parents and Tommy. He chances a glance at you, and finds you staring at him with a puzzled look on your face. He has no time to analyze your expression, though—not with the way that his feet carry him quickly out of the dining room.

When he opens the front door, he’s surprised to find a police officer standing on the porch.

“Evening,” Alex says slowly, his brows knitting together, “Can I help you?”

The officer clears his throat, removing his cap and pressing it against his chest. Alex can’t help but to notice the large baton hanging from the man’s belt. For a moment, he wonders if maybe the policeman has accidentally wandered up to the wrong house—maybe he’s made a mistake.

The next words that he hears quickly squash that theory.

“I’m looking for an Alexander King.”

“I—,” Alex’s fingers go numb, “That’s me. ‘S there a problem, sir?”

“Mr. King,” the officer continues, breezing past Alex’s question, “I’m here to let you know that your father is currently being treated at Saint Thomas Hospital. It appears that he suffered a heart attack earlier this morning.”

~*~

Alex hadn’t been himself when he returned to dinner. Your father had wanted to know who had knocked at the door, and Alex had simply brushed it away quietly. “Jus’ some bloke with the wrong address.” This hadn’t fazed your family—Alex was usually quite discreet at dinner—but you could tell that something was off. It was made even more clear that he was struggling with something when he kept his gaze lowered to his plate for the rest of the meal (because despite his subtle glances towards you, you were no fool).

He’s acting now the same way he had when the two of you had run into his father at the supermarket. The realization makes you groan—you’d just gotten him back (figuratively) and you don’t want to lose him again by having him retreat into himself. You want him to be able to confide in you and trust you with his secrets.

That desire is what prompts you to creep downstairs at night, balancing on the balls of your feet and avoiding the squeaky floorboards in your path.

When you peek into the living room, you find Alex sat on the couch with his head in his hands. The sight makes your heart ache—most nights, he usually lays sprawled out, his arms slung lazily behind his head as he waits for you. Seeing him so obviously anxious makes you frown; you’ve witnessed how bad it can get.

A small part of you wonders whether you should even bother approaching him.

The thought brings a frown to your face. Of course, you’re going to approach him. You’ve come this far, anyways.

“Hey.” The word is scratchy as it leaves your lips. Alex looks up quickly, his hands falling to rest on his knees. There’s an alarmed look on his face, but it softens once he recognizes you.

“Hey,” he replies, his own voice just as hoarse.

You shuffle in the doorway of the room, playing nervously with your fingers and scuffing your feet against the carpeted floor. Alex tilts his head to the side, observing you quietly for a long moment. The seconds drag out like molasses, making the blood thunder in your ears.

Finally, Alex is the one to break the silence.

“Aren’t y’gonna come over here?”

“Do you want me to?” you blurt out, though your tone is still quiet. Alex’s brows knit together, and his plump lips curve down into a scowl.

“’S that s’posed to mean?” he asks, his voice tainted with a hint of incredulity, “’Course I do.”

“Okay,” you merely whisper, and you drag your feet forward so that you can come near him. You stop only once you’re in front of him, your knees brushing against his bent ones. Alex spreads his legs wider, reaching for the hem of your nightgown and gripping it in between his fingers. He gives you a faint pull, and you obey his silent command.

Finally, you’re situated where he wants, and he wraps his arms around your midsection. He leans forward, turning his head to the side so that he can nuzzle his cheek against your stomach. You look down in shock, your hands reflexively landing on his shoulders.

You’d expected for him to be stony and quiet. Maybe he would have even gritted his teeth and requested that you leave him alone.

You hadn’t expected this.

Alex’s squeezes his arms gently around your body, sensing your stiffness. You exhale softly, forcing yourself to relax. Your hands move from Alex’s shoulders to his head, and then you’re twining your fingers into his soft hair. He gives you an appreciative grunt, letting his eyes drift closed as you scratch your nails soothingly along his scalp.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, with him supporting most of your weight as you lean into him and play with the loose curls atop his head. His hair is nothing like how it had been when he’d first returned from war. He’d had it cut short at the edges (nearly shaven, if you’re being honest) and the strands at the crown of his head hadn’t been long enough to coil properly.

It’s healthier, now. Loose and full and free.

His hair has come so far.

Has he?

“Alex,” you finally mumble, letting out a shaky breath. You pray that you won’t regret starting this conversation. “What happened?”

“What d’yeh mean?” His muffled reply comes from deep within his chest.

You frown, pulling back and tugging softly at his curls in admonishment. Alex cranes his neck so that he can look up at you, placing his hands protectively against the backs of your thighs. You fix him with an unhappy glare.

“Don’t,” you say quietly, shaking your head, “Don’t lie to me, please.”

And despite the polite plea at the end of your sentence, Alex doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so stern. You’re cross with him, he realizes with a jolt. He knew that you probably wouldn’t buy into his oblivious façade, but to see you react in a way that’s so different from your everyday temperament makes his lips part in shock.

“I—,” Alex squeezes his eyes shut and groans, concealing his face into the material of your nightgown to stifle the sound. He sighs, pressing his forehead against your hip and gathering his thoughts. Your fingers haven’t resumed their previous movements in his hair, and it makes him pout—you’re punishing him.

“He had a heart attack,” Alex finally grits out. He feels your body stiffen against him, and he pulls back to take a proper look at your face. Your eyes are wide with panic.

“Who?” you demand. Alex swallows heavily, and it’s then that it clicks in your head. “Your—your father?”

He simply nods. A soft sound of pity leaves your lips, and before Alex can blink, you’re dropping to your knees in front of him. You throw your arms around his neck and bring him into a crushing hug. Alex returns the gesture, squeezing you tightly and burying his face into your shoulder. His eyes prick with the telltale sign of tears, but he just clenches them shut, willing himself not to break down.

He doesn’t even know why he’s upset. His father had never been a model figure. For most of Alex’s life, he had simply made him feel inadequate. Alex had never been enough—strong enough, fast enough, brave enough.

So why the hell is he about to cry?

“It’s because you’re human, Alex,” you tell him.

You pull back, and Alex realizes that he’s voiced his thoughts. He stares at you—your eyes are shining with unshed tears, and your nostrils flare as you inhale deeply. You hastily push a few strands of hair away from your forehead, scratching your temple quickly. There’s a lump in Alex’s throat that he can’t seem to swallow down.

How are you able to sound so firm and demanding, and then become overwrought with emotion a mere moment later? It baffles him, and he swears that at that moment, he falls a little bit more in love with you.

He opens his mouth to tell you just that, but you’re faster.

“Are you going to go see him?”

Alex freezes. After a few long seconds, he takes his bottom lip in between his teeth and shakes his head. “I—I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” you ask softly. There’s nothing venomous about your question, but Alex has grown frustrated. He doesn’t know where these turbulent feelings have come from, but he’s suddenly angry. Angry, and anxious, and he needs an outlet.

And you’re…

You’re right here.

“Were yeh not listening jus’ now?” Alex snaps. You recoil, your eyes widening at his biting tone. Your lips part in surprise, but Alex can’t seem to stop himself. “He was a shit father, Y/N. Why would I wanna see him?”

“I don’t—I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I just wanted to—”

“Wanted t’irritate me?”

“What? No!”

“Really?” Alex releases a low, humourless laugh. “Because you’re doin’ a fuckin’ fantastic job.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. You reach forward to place your palms against each of his cheeks, but Alex leans away from you, glaring at you ruthlessly. “I just thought—because he’s your father—”

“You thought wrong,” Alex hisses. He stands up abruptly from the sofa, making you teeter backwards. You nearly fall onto your bum, and you reach a hand out to steady yourself. Tentatively, you turn around, watching as Alex paces back and forth. His teeth are clenched together, and he’s running his hands through his hair restlessly.

“Not everyone can have a perfect fuckin’ life, Y/N,” he grumbles, growing more agitated by the second.

At his words, you scowl. You slowly rise to your feet, pointing at him and fixing him with an annoyed expression.

“Now, hold on,” you begin, “That’s just wrong. My life isn’t perfect, Alex.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he grunts, turning away from you. Your frown only deepens, and you force yourself to take several long, profound breaths. You don’t know what’s gotten into him, but you’re sure that he doesn’t mean all these things he’s saying.

He’s probably just stressed.

You hope that he’s just stressed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

Alex whips around to face you, and you feel like crying.

His eyes are wild and furious. There’s absolutely no trace of the man who kisses your knuckles, who caresses your cheeks softly, who looks at you with such a tenderness that it would make the petals of a flower green with envy. His nostrils are flaring dramatically, and his lips—the soft, plump lips that you love to feel against your own—have warped into a vicious snarl.

“It means,” he sneers, “That you’re too fuckin’ naïve. The world is a bad place, Y/N. People lie. They cheat. An’ you can’t seem to get that through your thick skull.”

He turns away, shaking his head. “’S a wonder you’ve managed to get by fo’ this long.”

Your tears are flowing freely, now. You sniffle, placing your palms against your cheeks and trying to wipe away every droplet in one attempt. It proves to be futile, however; several more leak out and cascade down your face.

“I’m going back to bed,” you say shakily. You push past Alex, who is still breathing heavily.

You’re about to step into the hallway, but then Alex speaks up again.

“Of course,” he says, “Run away because y’know I’m right. Yeh just don’t wanna believe it.”

You swear that flames lick at your heels, and your vision goes red. Without a word, you spin back around, stalking over to the broken man in the middle of the room. You lift your arm, your fingers pressed together tightly. Rage boils in the pit of your stomach, crawling higher and higher until it reaches your throat.

You’re practically choking.

Alex flinches in preparation for the strike, but he doesn’t close his eyes. In those fleeting milliseconds, you can truly see him. His irises are pleading with you, but they’re not asking you to stop.

He wants you to hit him, you realize.

He wants you to prove him right.

That’s what makes you pull yourself together at the last second, and you stutter to a stop. A pregnant pause follows, broken only when you sniffle again and wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“I get what you’ve been through,” you say quietly. Your arm drops back to your side, and your shoulders slump. You glare at Alex with so much anger, it’s a surprise that there isn’t steam pouring from your ears.

“But I’m not a bad person. And if you can’t see that—,” you shrug, clenching your fists at your sides, “—then I guess there really is no damn hope for you after all.”

~*~

“Didn’t think you’d come.”

Alex shrugs. “Neither did I.”

He and his father stare evenly at each other. Outside the room, he can hear quiet chatter and nurses bustling around in the hallway. Carts and trays clatter as the women bring dinner to the bedridden patients in the wing. Alex nudges the door closed, and the noise is muffled now that there’s a firm barrier separating him from the rest of the hospital.

“How are you?” his father inquires, and Alex nearly snorts, because shouldn’t he be asking that question?

He doesn’t respond, choosing instead to look around the small room that his father has been confined to. There’s nothing that stands out to him. The walls are beige and bare; there’s a single nightstand next to the bed, which holds the tray that’s carrying the same, customary food handed out to every patient. Strangely enough, his father’s dinner doesn’t look too disgusting—Alex might even deem it appetizing.

“How’d they find me?” Alex asks. He’s studying the walls of the room, even though there’s no decorations adorning them.

“What do you mean?” his father asks, his brow furrowing.

Alex rolls his eyes. “The hospital. The police. How’d they know where I was?”

His father doesn’t reply, choosing instead to fiddle with the blankets that are pooled around his waist. Alex narrows his eyes but doesn’t press the issue. His father has always had ulterior motives—he’s never truly been honest and forthcoming.

Alex is used to it.

“I thought you were dead,” the man in the bed speaks up.

Alex grits his teeth. “Yeah. Y’already told me. Don’t yeh remember, William?”

His father blinks when Alex addresses him by his first name, and Alex fights back a smirk. A small, sinister part of him feels smug. It always feels good to throw someone off, to disrupt their comfortable lifestyle—especially when that person has made him feel like dirt for most of his life.

William clears his throat. “Why didn’t you come back home?”

At that, Alex chuckles. “Are yeh seriously asking that question?”

“Yes.”

“Why d’yeh think I didn’t? Can’t blame me for not wanting t’be around someone who treats me like shit.”

His father doesn’t respond. Alex sighs in annoyance and shakes his head. “Besides,” he says, though he’s talking more to himself now, “’M twenty-four. ‘Bout time I found a place o’ my own.”

“You’re right,” William nods.

Alex glares at him. “Don’t try t’get all chummy with me now. Only reason I came t’see yeh was to get my mind off other things.”

“Like what?”

“’S none o’ your business, is it?”

Like you.

Alex shakes his head again, grunting quietly. He shouldn’t have come. He knows that it was a stupid fucking idea. But he can’t stay locked up in that house anymore. He can’t stand seeing you every day and having your fight from several nights ago echo constantly in his head. Every time he closes his eyes, all he can envision is the way tears littered your cheeks, the sheer anger in your eyes, how quickly you had fled from the room afterwards.

It’s killing him.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, “I shouldn’t have bothered.”

What had he been thinking? He knows that he’s rash, impulsive, thoughtless. But this…this has christened his recklessness and raised it beyond whatever he’s done in the past. He’s so dense.

He casts another glance at the boring, beige walls of the room. They seem to be mocking him now. He wonders if he could get himself enlisted here as a patient, though he doesn’t know if the doctors would be able to solve his problem.

Has anyone found the cure for a broken heart?

“Alexander, wait,” William blurts.

Alex turns to face his father with a bored look on his face. William reaches underneath the several pillows that are keeping him propped up. There’s a faint jingling sound when he produces a set of keys. “At least…,” he rubs his forehead with one hand and holds out the keys with the other.

Alex lets out a short, humourless laugh. “Yeh can’t be serious.”

“I am,” his father replies. Without another word, he tosses the keys, and Alex catches them reflexively. “They’re keeping me here for a few weeks, anyways. Something about…monitoring cortisol levels. It’s rubbish, if you ask me.”

Alex snorts.

“You’re really just gonna let me back in? Not worried I’ll steal somethin’?”

“I trust you,” his father says simply. He shrugs his shoulders. “And hopefully you’ll be able to say the same about me, one day.”

Not likely, Alex thinks. A part of him is itching to utter the words out loud, but instead he just looks up, meeting his father’s eyes for the first time since he’d stepped into the room. A pair of identical irises stare back at him, framed by wrinkly eyelids and deep-set bags.

His father shoots him a small, barely-there smile; Alex tightens his grip on the key that he knows will unlock the front door to his old apartment.

“Maybe,” is all he says.

~*~

Upon arriving home from the library, you find Alex hammering a loose bolt into one of the floorboards on the porch.

You brace yourself as you climb up the front steps, subconsciously holding in air and trying to look as impassive as possible. Alex has his back turned towards you, and just when it seems like you might be able to get by unnoticed, you trip up the final stair.

An abrupt yelp tears its way from your throat, and Alex whips around in surprise. His green eyes widen when he finds you on all fours, your head hanging in humiliation.

“Christ,” he says, his mouth warping into a concerned frown, “Alright, there?”

You don’t respond, instead choosing to push yourself up and dust off any dirt on your dress.

Alex sucks in a harsh breath between his teeth. “You’re bleedin’, love.”

Sure enough, when you peer down, you find an angry scrape on your right knee. The cut doesn’t appear to be drastically deep, but there are droplets of blood gathering along the surface of your skin. You sigh in annoyance, bending down so that you can get a closer look at the injury.

“Damn it,” you mutter to yourself.

Alex sets his hammer down on the floor, climbing to his feet. He’s wearing black sandals, a pair of khaki shorts, and a white tank top that—to your dismay—shows off his biceps. You grit your teeth; how are you supposed to stay angry with him when he looks like the human embodiment of a deity?

“Think your dad’s got a kit in the shed,” he tells you, though the two of you refuse to look at each other. You keep your gaze trained on your knee, and Alex seems to be more interested in the front door.

Once again, you don’t offer up a reply. Alex sighs, giving you a stern look and pointing his index finger at you. “Don’t move.”

He disappears inside—he’s heading for the backyard, you assume—and you roll your eyes.

But you stay.

“Stupid idiot,” you mumble, berating yourself. Of course, you had to slip. Of course, Alex needed to be there. Of course, he couldn’t just let you be, but rather had to go off and fetch you some supplies.

You hobble over to the porch swing on your left, easing down onto the wooden bench and wincing when your knee bends too far. With a heavy breath, you shift your leg up so that it lays flat along the rest of the seat. You brush a fallen strand of hair behind your ear and grip the strap of your purse, pulling it off your shoulder and setting it down on the ground.

After a few minutes, Alex returns. He’s slightly out of breath, clutching a small, white, plastic container in his hand. For a moment, his brow furrows as he looks around, wondering where you’ve gone. Then, he catches sight of you sitting off to the side, and he blows out a sigh.

“Sorry,” he tells you, walking over, “Had t’find the keys to the shed. They were hangin’ in the kitchen.”

“It’s fine,” you say quietly.

Alex kneels in front of you, flipping open the latches of the first-aid kit. He places it down beside him, rifling through a box of bandages and a small packet of cotton. Finally, he pulls out a tiny bottle of disinfectant, unscrewing the lid and marvelling at the design of the product.

“’S got a dropper?” he whistles, “Impressive.”

You can’t help but to chuckle, and Alex smiles softly down at his lap.

He’s missed your laugh.

“C’mere,” he says, reaching for your leg. You shift around so that you’re facing him. Alex’s hands hold onto your calves as he places your foot against his thigh; he hums in satisfaction when you’re able to stretch your knee out properly. He leans forward, pulling out a few tissues and dabbing away the blood that’s obscuring your scrape.

After that, he hovers the dropper above your skin, squeezing it a few times. You hiss when the disinfectant lands against your injury, the burning sensation making your stomach flip anxiously. The liquid begins to fizz and bubble, but Alex simply leans forward, blowing cool air against your knee to counteract the pain.

Alex digs through the first-aid kit again, pulling out the box of bandages. From there, he produces a small strip. He rips through the paper with his teeth, peeling off the protective plastic layer. You watch with parted lips as his brow furrows in concentration. His fingers are gentle as they smooth the material over your knee, and he’s careful not to apply too much pressure.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

Alex peers up at you and shakes his head. “’M not done yet.”

Confusion causes your forehead to crease, and you’re about to question him, but then he leans forward. You clamp your mouth shut as he presses a soft, feathery kiss to your skin, right over where the bandage covers your graze.

“Alright,” he smirks, pulling back and looking up at you with mischievous eyes, “Now ’m done.”

“Good to know,” you say dryly. A faint, wry smile curls your lips.

Alex chuckles softly, but the easy, peaceful moment is fleeting. Seconds later, he’s gazing at you with so much intensity, it makes your skin crawl. He clears his throat, scratching sheepishly at the nape of his neck.

“Went t’see him today.”

You stiffen.

Alex swallows down the lump in his throat, not sure of how you’ll react. He watches you intently, studying the way your eyes flit around and your lips part around silent, fragmented words. It’s like you’re trying to pinpoint a sufficient response.

“Really,” you finally choke out. Though it’s not a question, Alex nods anyways.

“So,” you start, “You get mad at me for suggesting it…but you still follow that suggestion.”

Alex groans. He presses his forehead against your uninjured knee, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know,” he tells you, cursing under his breath, “I know.”

You don’t say anything. Alex peeks up at you; his brows knit together when he sees you looking down at him expectantly. Your arms are crossed, and one of your eyebrows is cocked higher than the other.

“What?” Alex asks, his lips curving down into the smallest of frowns.

“I’m waiting for an apology,” you say simply, shrugging.

Alex smirks, shaking his head incredulously. He tilts forward again, aiming a bit lower so that—this time—his lips meet your shin.

“I’m—,” he sponges a trail of harmless pecks up your unscathed leg, “—really—truly—sorry.”

“For…?” you prompt, angling your head to the side.

A low chuckle rumbles deep in Alex’s chest. He shuffles forward on his knees, slowly lowering your scraped leg so that he can eliminate the distance separating the two of you. He presses his lips to the inside of your knee before gradually inching upwards. Your breath catches in your throat when he spreads your legs apart slightly, nestling himself in between. He’s attacking your inner thigh with soft kisses now, and you humour him for a bit until he begins edging your dress upwards.

Your hand shoots out, and you place your palm flat against his forehead to tame him.

“For…?” you repeat.

“For bein’ a bloody twat,” Alex admits, craning his neck towards your hand and nipping teasingly at your wrist. “’M sorry, love.”

You stare at each other for a long moment, gazes glued together. Your heart is pounding in your chest, so loud that you’re afraid he’ll be able to hear it. The sun is beginning to set, bathing the neighbourhood in a muted, peachy glow. There are still dragonflies buzzing around, but the faint chirping of crickets hiding in the shadows hints at the looming threat of nighttime.

Alex offers you a small, helpless shrug. His bright eyes gleam with hope, and he gnaws on the inside of his cheek.

You bury your fingers into his hair and sigh quietly.

“Good.”

You weigh your next words carefully in your mind. A part of you wants to say them, but another—larger—part is far too bashful. You glance down at Alex, who’s got his cheek pressed kittenishly against your leg. His eyes are closed in bliss as you run your nails lightly against his head. You blow out a silent sigh, deciding to bite the bullet and just come out with it.

“I’m going to leave my door unlocked tonight,” you murmur quietly.

Alex’s eyelids slowly flutter open. At first, he’s a bit disoriented, fixing you with a puzzled look. But then, he fully processes your words, and his eyes widen.

His face splits into a smile.

~*~

The house is silent as Alex creeps up the stairs later that night. He’s holding his breath, balancing on the balls of his feet to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. All his senses appear to be heightened; his eyes focus on the shadows dancing along the wall, and his ears are perked as he listens for even the smallest hint of movement.

It’s raining outside. The patter of drops against the windows is calming, and the occasional rumble of thunder makes everything seem just a little bit livelier. Alex is grateful, because the noise helps to drown out the faint sounds of his vigilant footsteps.

After several long, cautious moments, he’s standing in front of your bedroom door. He doesn’t bother knocking—the noise would surely give the two of you away. The door creaks slightly when he nudges it open, and he winces.

You’re laying on your side, facing away from him. For a minute, Alex simply watches the way your shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath. He shuts the door softly, clicking the lock in place—just in case.

He pads over to your bed, and you peer over your shoulder, shooting him a soft, sleepy smile.

“Hi,” you breathe.

Alex slides underneath the duvet, wrapping one arm around your midsection and snuggling in close to you. He presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, sighing in relief—he’s back where he belongs.

You turn around, resuming your original position. Alex’s breath hitches in his throat when you arch your back and accidentally nudge your bum firmly against his crotch. He stiffens, and you snort tiredly. Your body vibrates with a silent laugh, and Alex pinches your hip in a chastising manner. The sharp tweak of pain only makes you giggle even more.

“Minx,” Alex grumbles. He can’t see your face, but he knows that you’re smirking.

He continues to litter feathery kisses against your shoulder, taking pleasure in the way that you squirm in his hold. It’s only when he pulls the collar of your nightgown to the side and bites down lightly on your bare skin that you let out a faint whine, leaning away from him.

“Stop,” you moan.

Alex snickers. “But I like the way y’taste.”

“It’s just skin,” you scoff quietly, turning over so that you can face him. He grunts when your elbow accidentally knocks him in the ribs, and you murmur a gentle apology, pressing your lips against his in a silent request for forgiveness.

Alex hums into the kiss, smiling faintly as your mouths detach with a soft smacking sound.

“Lips taste good,” he tells you, “An’ so does your skin.”

His face splits into a devious grin. “Think I like the taste o’ your cunt best, though.”

You gasp, your eyes widening until they reach their limit. Alex wants to laugh, but he holds it in favour of shooting you a cool, self-assured smirk. He’s expecting you to berate him, to whisper furiously at him with skittish eyes and a nervous twist to your lips. It’s something he’s used to.

He’s surprised, though, when you squeak quietly and lean forward, burying your face into his chest. An astonished chuckle echoes deep in the back of his throat, and he reflexively winds his arms around you.

“You’re too much,” you mumble. Alex’s mouth twists into a small, confused frown when he feels your knuckles flutter hurriedly against his chest. He pulls back, looking down and nearly choking on his own spit when he sees that you’ve undone the first two buttons on his flannel pajama shirt.

“Love…,” he says slowly, not able to discern your intentions, “What’re yeh—?”

“You said I could have my fun ‘next time’.” You remind him of the first night he had been in your room, and Alex swears that his heart skips a beat.

He remembers. You had run your fingers along his shoulders and his chest, marvelling at the way the skin fit over his muscles. His cock had plumped up so much that it was embarrassing—he had just wanted you. That’s why he had knocked your hands away, a half-hearted promise of “next time” pouring from his lips. Your body had been calling to him, and he simply couldn’t ignore it.

“Is it ‘next time’?” you ask, peering up at him timidly.

You thumb open the last button on his shirt before sliding your palms against his bare stomach. Alex swallows heavily as you smooth your hands up the length of his torso, pushing the soft material of his flannel away from his shoulders. He sits up quickly, yanking the fabric off and tossing it over his shoulder, paying no mind to where it lands.

His eagerness makes you giggle.

You beam when he climbs on top of you, his movements messy and uncoordinated. He’s grinning like a fucking fool, but he doesn’t care.

Why would he care, when he has you looking up at him like he hung the moon and all the stars in the galaxy? Why would he care, when you’re tilting your cheek into his hand and arching your back up so that you can get closer to him? Why would he care, when you keen happily against his lips as he kisses you?

Alex tugs the duvet over your bodies, and after a few minutes, everything is warm. Your hot breath puffs out against his chin and cheeks, and everywhere your fingertips touch, you leave a searing path behind. A thin sheen of sweat has begun to form along his hairline, and there’s a palpable, unmistakable heat emanating from where you’ve got your pelvis pressed against his thigh.

You let out a wet gasp, pulling back and sucking in a deep breath. Alex cups your jaw with one hand, keeping the other flat against your pillow so that he can hold himself over you. He watches as you lick your lips, and then you hum appreciatively.

“You taste like toothpaste,” you say, snickering quietly.

Alex chuckles and shakes his head. His eyes meet yours, and a silent agreement passes between the two of you. A faint groan leaves his lips when he slumps to the side and splays his body out dramatically. You roll your eyes at his antics, lifting his left arm so that you can shuffle closer and cuddle into his chest.

You plant your lips firmly above his left pectoral, over the spot where his heart is thumping wildly beneath his ribs. Alex wraps his arm around you and kisses the side of your head, delighting in how the scent of your shampoo fills his nose.

The two of you are quiet for the next few moments. Alex stares up at the ceiling of your bedroom and listens as your breathing gradually starts to balance out. You’re not asleep just yet—he can tell by the way you sigh into his skin—but you will be in another minute or so.

He can feel his opportunity slipping away.

“He gave me the keys t’my old apartment,” Alex mutters. “My father.”

And suddenly, you’re wide awake.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Alex merely nods. You’re both silent for several seconds.

“He trusts you?” you finally ask.

Alex shrugs. “Seems so.”

“Are you…,” you hesitate, gnawing tentatively on your bottom lip. Alex peers down at you and raises his brows, prompting you to continue. You lift one shoulder shyly. “Are you going to go?”

He lets out a gentle sigh, his hand coming up to rub at his eyes. Eventually, he nods. “Reckon I ought to. ‘S where I grew up, y’know?”

“I know,” you whisper. You grunt, shifting onto your stomach so that you can face him properly. There’s uncertainty and anxiety brewing in his irises, and his lips have curved down into the smallest of scowls. You reach out, smoothing your thumb over the crease that’s formed between his eyebrows, and then you cup his face tenderly.

You place your other hand on his sternum, drumming your fingers absentmindedly as you speak.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

A low, surprised chuckle fights its way past Alex’s lips. He looks at you with disbelieving eyes and cocks his head to the side. You bite fiercely at the inside of your cheek, rethinking your words. Does he think that you find him weak? Does he think that you don’t believe in him?

“What?” Alex asks.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you try to make amends. “If you don’t want me there, I understand. It’s none of my business anyways, I’m sorry for—”

He cuts you off immediately, placing his large palm against the back of your head and surging upwards so that he can press a bruising kiss to your lips. Your startled squeak ricochets through the air, but Alex just smiles against your mouth. You moan happily when he deepens the contact, making you unsure of where he ends, and where you begin.

“Want yeh there,” Alex breathes, pulling back with a slick gasp. “I do.”

“Yeah?” You purse your lips to suppress a smile, but it doesn’t work. Alex gazes at you tenderly, stroking his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you whisper, ducking down and planting a chaste kiss to his collarbone. You suddenly remember that you’ve planned a small trip tomorrow, and you add, “Is it okay if you pick me up at the library, though? Then we can head straight on over.”

“Sure,” Alex hums. His brows knit together for a moment, and he taps your chin with his forefinger. “Wait, weren’t yeh already there today?”

You hesitate, choosing your next words slowly. If Alex notices your sudden prudence, he doesn’t comment on it. You gulp inaudibly, sounding out your response with great care. “Yeah. I’ve just—I’ve been reading up on a few things, that’s all.”

“Anything I’d fancy?” Alex jokes. You force out a laugh, hoping that he won’t recognize the artificiality of your smile.

“No,” you lie, grimacing as you lay your head down on his chest. “Nothing at all.”

Alex merely hums, shrugging nonchalantly and letting the conversation drift off into silence.

He wakes up in a cold sweat later that night, whimpering and thrashing around wildly. You have to shake him vigorously until his eyes finally snap open. When he recognizes you, he lets out a wet sob, gasping for air and sitting up straight. You lean your head against his shoulder, rubbing your palm along his back tenderly.

“’M sorry,” he hiccups, shaking his head sadly. “Jus’ felt so real, y’know? ’M so sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” you whisper, your words fluttering onto his skin. You sit behind him, spreading your legs on either side of his body and engulfing him in a tight hug. You can feel him quivering when you press your forehead against his spine, and you try to blink back your own emotions.

Alex continues to shake in your arms, and you squeeze your eyes shut, a single tear trailing down your cheek.

You definitely need to read up on a few things.

~*~

“You alright?” you turn to Alex, peering up at him shyly through your eyelashes.

He grunts in response, keeping his gaze glued to the apartment door in front of him. “’M fine.”

You hesitate, but eventually just nod and face forward once more. The door is nothing special. Dark wood framed by more dark wood, with a slightly-rusted bronze knob and a matching plaque displaying a faded inscription: 4B.

The two of you stand there for a few more seconds, a heavy silence blanketing the atmosphere. You chew nervously on your bottom lip, and then Alex snaps out of his tranquil stupor, muttering a curse under his breath.

“Bloody ridiculous, this is.”

He surges forward, slotting one of the copper keys into the lock on the knob, but you put a hand on his arm before he can push the door open. “Wait!”

“’S wrong?” Alex asks, stepping back and spinning around so that he can face you. You play with your fingers, feeling your face heat up with embarrassment. Alex places his large palms on your shoulders, squeezing softly and repeating (with a bit more vigour behind the words now), “’S wrong, love?”

“Just—,” you break off, sighing quietly. Alex’s forehead has creased in confusion, and you’re not quite sure how to convey what you want. Instead of bothering to trip over your sentence (and make a fool of yourself), you simply step forward, cupping his face in your hands and delivering a profound kiss to his lips.

Alex feels a bit of the tension in his body melt away as soon as you invade his space. He doesn’t know what it is about you that puts him at ease, but nevertheless, he’s grateful for it. You kiss him, and suddenly it’s like nothing else matters. All petty stressors flee from his mind; the only thing he can think about is how soft your mouth is, and how you whimper happily whenever he places his hand against the side of your neck to keep you steady.

“I’m here for you,” you mumble, pulling back only an inch so that you can get the words out.

Alex presses his forehead to yours, squeezing his eyes shut for a mere moment. His hands are clammy, and his heart is pounding erratically beneath his ribs. The frantic pace betrays the cool, unbothered façade behind which he’s been hiding. He draws out the next few seconds, well-aware of the fact that he’s stalling, but you don’t criticize him for it.

You’re just there. If he needs a hand to hold, if he needs someone to listen, if he needs a pair of arms to hug him, you’re there.

And you don’t seem to mind.

That’s why he turns away from you, nudging open the door with one hand and gripping your fingers firmly in the other. You’ve got no time to question him—he’s tugging you inside with only the smallest pull of his arm, and then you’re standing in the front entrance of his old apartment.

You never leave his side. You’re with him as he pads into the kitchen, the living room, the small dining room where he and his father used to eat stoically. You grip his hand with both of yours as he stands in front of the mantel of the fireplace, studying the pictures that sit above the cold, ashen wood. You squeeze his fingers reassuringly as he walks down the hallway, trailing his palm along the wall unthinkingly.

He stiffens dramatically when he opens the door to his old bedroom, and you let go of his hand as he makes his way inside.

It’s odd.

He’d expected the furniture to be dusty—for a thick, veiled smell to hang in the air. But everything is clean and pristine, like the room had been kept immaculate in his absence. His duvet is tucked neatly into the crevices of his mattress, and his dresser is polished. Even the picture frames along the walls are spotless.

“He was hoping you’d come back,” you say softly.

Alex turns to face you, an enormous lump forming in his throat. He tries desperately to swallow it down, but the attempt proves to be futile. You watch him with sad, tender eyes—he hates it.

He hates it.

“Don’t look at me like tha’,” he grits out, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows knit together. “Like what?”

“Like—,” Alex tugs frantically at his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, “Like ’m broken!”

“I’m not!” you insist, rushing forward. You cup his face in your hands, trying urgently to make him understand. “I don’t think you’re broken, Alex, but I’m—I’m only frustrated! Why can’t you ever just let me be here for you?”

“’S not your problem,” Alex says, stepping back. Your arms fall limply to your sides, and you watch with parted lips as he swerves around you, stalking back towards the door of the room. Your mind is reeling, and your fingers are tingling with anticipation.

Say it.

No. You shouldn’t; he’s already so tense, and your words will undoubtedly make him explode. How are you even supposed to approach the subject? Should you be tentative, or just come out with it right away?

You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t.

But you’ve never really been good at controlling yourself.

“I think you should see a therapist.”

Alex freezes.

A long, painful moment of silence follows. Your nostrils flare anxiously, and you clench your jaw to keep yourself from whimpering. Alex turns around slowly, his eyes alight with a furious hue of rage. You want nothing more than to step back, to cower into yourself until you eventually wink out of existence—but you don’t. You keep your feet rooted to the floor, not moving at all, even when he glares daggers at you.

“’Scuse me?”

“I think you should see a therapist,” you repeat, your voice slightly shaky. You clear your throat, forcing yourself to pronounce each word and fake the confidence lacing through every syllable. “I’ve been doing some reading, and there’s this thing—people call it ‘shell-shock’. It’s seen in most soldiers that come back from—”

“’M not goin’ to a fuckin’ shrink!” Alex bellows. Your mouth twists into a deep scowl at the volume of his voice.

“Would you just listen to me?” you cry, stomping up to him. You point your finger at him accusingly. “You’ve been getting worse and worse! The nightmares aren’t going to just magically disappear! If you would just talk to someone about it, I’m sure they could help—!”

“So that’s wha’ this is about, then?” Alex demands. A vein in his neck strains frighteningly. “Y’think I’m mad? Y’think I’m fuckin’ loony?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what is it? None o’ your business, this is! Why’re yeh so hellbent on—?”

“Because I love you!”

That shuts him up.

You’re crying now, angry tears streaking down your face. You wipe vehemently at your cheeks, sniffling quietly. Alex’s jaw is locked, a muscle in his neck twitching. You swallow heavily, gripping the hem of your dress in your fists and balling the material up to keep your hands occupied.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t be with you if—if you’re not even going to try to make things better. I’m not your fucking punching bag.”

Alex exhales at your words—that’s the first time you’ve cursed in front of him.

It’s the first time you’ve cursed at him, too.

“Y’don’t know…,” he says lowly, looking down at you with steely eyes, “Y’don’t know what it’s like.”

“Then help me understand,” you beg. You purse your lips to keep him from seeing how much they quiver.

Alex just shakes his head. He steps to the side, leaving a clear path to the doorway. You peer up at him with watery, pleading eyes, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. He’s staring fixedly at the floor, his hands clasped behind his back and his cheeks red from his previous outburst.

He opens his mouth, and the single word that leaves his lips makes your heart break cleanly in two.

“Leave.”

You sniffle again, straightening your back and releasing the fabric of your dress from where it’s crinkled in between your fingers. A soft sob escapes your lips before you can quell the sound, but you just swipe at your teary eyes with the back of your palm.

“Fine,” you say coldly.

And then you’re gone.

~*~

Alex moves out of your house the next day.

You stay locked up in your room while he packs. Under normal circumstances, you would join him and Tommy downstairs and ensure that he doesn’t forget anything.

But your circumstances are anything but normal.

You can hear Tommy’s chipper voice float up the steps, followed by Alex’s low, indistinguishable mumbles. They’re nearly done—Alex doesn’t have many possessions, seeing as most of his things have been kept at his apartment. You mourn the fact that he won’t be sleeping downstairs on the couch anymore; there had been something comforting about his presence.

“Think she’s upstairs,” you hear Tommy say, and then the steps creak as he ascends to the second floor, “I’ll get her.”

Immediately, you curl up and squeeze your eyes shut. You balance out your breathing and shift your leg slightly just as Tommy cracks open your door. He shuffles faintly before whispering, “Y/N?”

When he’s met with no response, he sighs quietly and closes the door. You hear him amble back downstairs, and then he’s informing Alex, “Sorry mate, she fell asleep. I’m sure she wishes you all the best, though.”

There’s a heavy grunt, and then the front door opens. You open your eyes and slowly slide out of bed, creeping over to your window and peeking down at the lawn from behind your curtains.

Alex pops open the trunk of the car, hauling his small suitcase inside. Tommy’s standing on the driver’s side, leaning up against the open door. He says something, his mouth warping into a sly smirk, and Alex laughs. Your chest tightens painfully at the sight of his smile.

Tommy slides into the car, and a moment later, the vehicle rumbles to life. Alex shuts the trunk, twisting a key into the lock to ensure that it’s sealed. He walks over to the passenger side of the car, pulling open the door.

And then he looks up, his gaze trained intently on your window.

It lasts only a second, but it feels like a century. Your eyes meet his, and you swear that your heart stops. You inhale sharply before pedalling backwards, the action robotic and curt. There’s a burning sensation that’s pricking at your eyes, and you blink quickly to keep yourself composed. You count to twenty in your head before approaching the window once again and—despite your better judgement—peering outside.

But the car has vanished.

And it’s taken Alex with it.

~*~

“How long?”

“Another month or so. I almost died, Alexander. They don’t make light of those things around here.”

Alex nods, sitting back in his chair and lacing his fingers together. His eyes drift and land on the needle hooked into his father’s forearm—the sight makes his toes curl.

The hospital isn’t as busy as it was during his previous visit. It’s quieter, with low mumbles outside in the hall and the occasional squeaking of a wheelchair as nurses roll patients down the corridor. Alex is still tense, but he won’t deny that he feels a lot more at ease now compared to the first time he’d stepped into the building.

He’s sitting next to his father, for one thing. William is propped up on a few pillows, his skin sallow and pale. There are deep bags circling his eyes, and his lips are dry and chapped. When he lifts his hands, they shake violently. Alex almost feels bad for him.

Almost.

The only thing that hasn’t changed is his eyes. They’re bright and alert, carrying years of experience and pain. Alex hates that William’s irises are an identical match to his own. It reminds him of how similar they truly are.

“So,” William clears his throat, straightening his back, “I have to ask. Who’s the bird?”

“Wha’?”

“The girl, Alexander. The one you were shopping with. Who is she?”

“She’s not a bird,” Alex grumbles, looking away. The naked, beige walls of the room are suddenly much more interesting than whatever his father has to say.

“You like her, then?”

He shakes his head. His father frowns in confusion, and Alex just mutters out, “Love her.”

William is the first person he’s told, and he hates that the universe seems to have derailed his plans in such a cruel way. You haven’t spoken to him in days. He hasn’t seen you at all since he moved out of the house. He’s been living alone, and the first person to whom he’s revealed his feelings just happens to be his estranged, unyielding father.

Alex groans. Whatever is out there—God, the cosmos, or some other unknown deity—seems intent on making him miserable.

The only things keeping him sane are those three words you had shouted at him. He also hates that he wasn’t the first one to confess his devotion. He hates that you hadn’t been able to wait, that you’d blurted it out in a hot, fiery moment of intensity and emotion. And he hates—he bloody hates—the fact that he’s clinging to that, praying desperately that you still love him even after your devastating quarrel.

“Does she know?” his father asks, and Alex is yanked from his thoughts. He looks up with muddied eyes, blinking rapidly and shaking his head.

“No,” he says quietly, his throat dry. “We’re—we’re not really talkin’ right now.”

“Why?”

And Alex doesn’t know why he’s saying these things. He doesn’t know why he’s baring his soul to the man who had hurt him so badly. All he knows is that he’s so damn alone, and he can’t keep things bottled up anymore.

“She wants me t’see a shrink.”

He expects for his father to laugh, or gasp, or become defensive. But when he looks back up at him, he’s met with pursed lips and pondering green eyes that are lost deep in thought. “Ah,” William sighs, nodding solemnly. He doesn’t say anything else, and Alex’s eyebrows knit together. He leans forward slightly, cracking his knuckles anxiously.

“What?” he asks, his voice a bit sharper than it should be. William chuckles.

“Let me guess,” he muses, a wry smile twisting along his pale lips, “She suggested it, you got offended, and then you lot had a falling out.”

Alex narrows his eyes, his shoulders tensing at the accuracy of the presumption. “How’d you know tha’?”

“’S exactly what happened between your mother and I,” William says. His eyes grow wistful, like he’s reminiscing on a fond memory. “You were so young. I got back from the Great War, and I was having some trouble…readjusting, I guess. Your mother was adamant about me going to see someone.”

“I didn’t know that,” Alex says blankly. His father merely chuckles again, his shoulders shaking with the action.

“’Course you didn’t,” he smiles, “That’s because I listened to her. Put my damn pride aside and went along with it, even though I thought it was all rubbish.”

Alex stays silent, and William continues. “And I actually got a bit better. Things were going swimmingly. But then—,” he pauses, letting out a rattled sigh, “—she died. And you…you know what happened to me after that.”

“Yeah,” Alex croaks out. He knows.

He and his father reside to sitting in silence. Ten minutes pass before soft snores are escaping from William’s mouth, and his head leans towards the side as he sleeps. Alex sits back in his chair, gripping his chin with his fingers and not realizing how tightly his teeth are clenched together.

He’s not damaged. He’s not a charity begging for more attention. He’s not broken.

I listened to her. Put my damn pride aside and went along with it, even though I thought it was all rubbish.

Alex sighs.

~*~

Alex is a damn fool.

He should have listened to the radio in hopes of catching the daily forecast. He should have decided not to go outside after having seen the pale gray clouds blanketing the city. He should have shot down the small voice in his head that taunted him with unfair jabs at his courage and his masculinity.

It’s just a little bit of rain. The tube is only one mile away.

He needs to see you.

He decides that there is a God, then—a God that is unhappy with him. He’s made it three quarters of the way to the train station when heavy droplets start to fall from the sky. There’s no steady escalation—rather, the rain arrives in a wet crescendo. Soon enough, Alex is hiking his jacket up over his head and breaking into a light jog to find shelter.

The entrance of the station comes into view, and he’s about to quicken his pace, but then he passes a familiar face and stops dead in his tracks.

“Y/N?” he yells over the loud, steady patter of rain.

You turn around at the sound of your name, your eyes widening when you recognize him. Alex can’t help but to notice that you’re soaked. Your hair is matted down against your head, and your dress is clinging to your body (he tries to ignore the fact that the material has become slightly transparent). You’ve got no protection from the weather, and your feet squelch in your flats when you step back.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asks.

“I came to talk to you!” you reply, increasing the volume of your voice as thunder rumbles in the sky. Alex looks up, his forehead wrinkling worriedly as he studies the dark clouds looming overhead. He lowers his jacket before approaching you quickly and thrusting it into your hands.

“C’mon!” he says, placing a protective hand on the small of your back. You grip the material of his coat and try your best to spread it out so that it can shield the two of you. Alex ushers you along, leading you back to his apartment building and cringing when his shoes squish soddenly.

By the time you’re both standing in front of his door, you’re positively drenched. Alex runs a hand through his sopping hair, trying to squeeze out any excess water. His fingers are slippery as he unlocks the door, pushing it open and removing his shoes immediately. You trail behind him, balling up the fabric of his jacket and gnawing anxiously on your bottom lip.

“Fuck,” Alex stammers, shivering. He’s much more fretful than he should be, but he can’t help it. The only other time he’s been this wet whilst wearing clothes was when he was fighting for his life on the outskirts of France.

“Cold?” he asks, spinning around to face you. You nudge the front door shut with your foot and nod shyly, your teeth chattering slightly.

“Take a shower,” Alex says, placing his hand onto your hip and guiding you down the hall. “Don’t want yeh catching pneumonia or summat.”

“What—no!” you protest, digging your heels into the floor, “It’s not my house, Alex. You go first.”

“You’re a guest,” Alex says, frowning lightly.

You scoff quietly, muttering the words under your breath. “Not by choice.”

His scowl deepens, and he clenches his jaw tightly. “Y/N,” he says sternly, throwing his thumb over his shoulder and gesturing to the bathroom that’s only a few feet away, “Get in the shower.”

“No.” You fold your arms over your chest.

Alex lets out a frustrated groan and rubs at his eyes aggravatedly. “So bloody stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head incredulously.

You simply shrug. “You used to like that about me.”

“Who says I don’t anymore?” Alex asks. His hands drop to his sides, and he grimaces. “Just ’cause you’re through with me doesn’t mean I don’t still think about yeh every fuckin’ second.”

“Alex,” you say quietly, avoiding his intense gaze, “Just get in the shower. Please.”

“Either get in with me,” Alex says, “Or I’m not movin’, and we’re both gonna stay here in these soggy clothes.”

“Fine!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up in the air. You grunt, annoyed at his persistence. Why can’t he ever just let you win? He’s too proud—he thinks he always knows what’s best. If he wasn’t so damn endearing, you would have told him off a long time ago. Why can’t he ever just listen to you?

Alex’s eyes widen when you begin to undo the buttons lining the front of your dress. You mumble obscenities under your breath, your fingers working hastily to rid yourself of the garment. He’s pretty sure he stops breathing when you peel the soaked fabric away from your body, revealing a matching set of undergarments and inches of glistening skin.

“What’re yeh doin’?” He asks, his mouth dry.

You glare up at him. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Your eyes flick down to his shirt and trousers, and you lift one eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one who said that we were getting in together?”

Alex has never moved so fast.

He practically rips off his clothes, only leaving the boxers that sit snugly on his hips. You watch him evenly as he turns around and makes his way into the bathroom. A moment later, the steady sound of running water reaches your ears.

“Oh my God,” you breathe quietly, squeezing your eyes shut. You can’t believe you’re doing this. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

“Yeh comin’?” Alex calls from inside the washroom. You pinch your thigh and exhale shakily before putting on an unbothered front.

Alex turns around when you walk through the door, and you don’t miss the way his gaze falls to your body. The hunger in his eyes makes you gulp, but you don’t shy away—he’s seen you like this before. You can handle him (you hope).

“Water’s warm,” Alex mumbles. You nod curtly, and then you reach behind your body to unclasp your bra. Alex’s throat bobs when the cups loosen around your breasts, and you look away when you drop the material to the floor.

“What?” you demand, brushing your wet hair away from your face. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

And with a sudden rush of confidence, you remove your underwear as well.

“Fuck,” Alex mutters. He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, and you bite back a laugh. You’re still upset with him, yes, but you can’t deny how fun it is to toy with him. You step out of where your panties have pooled at your ankles, shooting him an expectant look.

“Your turn.”

Despite the intense longing he feels for you, Alex chuckles. “Eager, love?”

“Don’t call me that,” you order quietly, your eyes falling to the tiled floor. “I’m not your ‘love’—not anymore.”

“But yeh love me.” It’s not a question.

You blink, inhaling sharply and feeling your chest grow tight. “Yes,” you whisper.

Alex sighs, shaking his head. “Couldn’t hold it in fo’ just a little while longer, could yeh?”

“Excuse me?”

“’Cause now I look like a cheap git if I say it back! Fuck, love—,” Alex grits his teeth, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “Was gonna tell yeh the morning we almost got caught. But then all this bullshit happened, and I didn’t think—”

“You love me?”

You’re finally looking at him, and Alex has never seen so much emotion brewing in your eyes. Light reflects off your irises, and your lips are pursed tightly. Your eyelashes flutter prettily every time you blink, and your skin is still gleaming wetly from the rain.

“’Course I do,” Alex says, his brows knitting together. “How could I not?”

“I—,” you hesitate, sucking your lips into your mouth nervously. Eventually, you blow out an exhausted breath, your shoulders slumping dejectedly. “I hate fighting with you.”

Alex smiles softly. “Me too. And—,” he pauses for a moment, “I’m gonna go see a shrink. Already booked the appointment.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your eyes widening. “You’re serious?”

He nods, and you feel your heart swell with adoration.

You suddenly remember that the shower is still running, and you lift your chin eagerly. “Are we going to get in, or have you changed your mind?”

Alex’s small smile spreads into a grin. He doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to rid himself of his boxers—it suffices as a response, you decide. The two of you stumble into the shower, and you hum happily when the warm water splashes against your back. It’s a welcome change from the cold, icy sheen that had been left by the rain.

“I love you,” Alex says suddenly, and you turn around to face him. He’s standing underneath the spray, his hair matted to his forehead. You step closer to him, fixing him with a tender smile as you push the wet strands away from his face.

“And I love you.”

He leans down, his lips ghosting over yours—he’s still unsure of where you stand. But when you grin and press your mouth firmly against his, he doesn’t have to wonder. Not anymore.

It starts off innocent enough. Alex simply enjoys being able to kiss you again—he’s missed it more than you could ever know. His hands cup your jaw gently, and you hold onto his waist, squeezing slightly whenever he nips playfully at your bottom lip. When he pulls away, you whine quietly and chase him, and he just chuckles lowly as he gives in to your wordless requests.

And then—just like that—something shifts.

Your kisses become a bit more frantic, a bit more profound. Your hands don’t remain stationary, but instead roam up and down his back, feeling his muscles contract as he moves. Your lips part from his with a soft smacking sound, and Alex growls low in his throat when you release a needy whimper.

“Wait,” he mumbles, looking at you through long, damp eyelashes. He’s breathing heavily, his chest swelling with each inhale. “What d’yeh want?”

“What?” you breathe, curving your head to the side so that you can litter sloppy kisses down his neck. Alex curses softly, placing his hands on your shoulders and pulling you back. You pout cutely, and he feels his stomach coil with desire.

“What d’yeh want?” he repeats, his throat scratchy. “Y’gotta tell me what y’wanna do, love, or else…I won’t be able t’stop.”

“Then don’t,” you tell him, gripping his face between your hands and guiding him down for another passionate kiss. “Don’t stop.”

“Bloody—,” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because he’s bruising your lips with his own, and he has no intention of slowing down. You whimper unabashedly when one of his hands finds your right breast, kneading the skin in his palm and pinching gently at your nipple. You arch your back into him, and he just deepens the kiss, a quiet groan echoing in the back of his throat.

“Need—,” Alex pulls back with a damp gasp, “—need t’open yeh up f’me, love. ’M not small.”

Sure enough, when you cast a glance downwards, you become privy to the state of his cock. He’s hardened significantly, and with a jolt, you realize that you’ve never actually seen his prick. He’s had his head between your legs and you’ve had your hand down his pants, but he’s never been this bare in front of you.

“It’s pretty,” you say softly, because it’s true. His cock curves upwards against his stomach, and it’s flushed a light pink colour. A particularly thick vein runs along the tight skin, and the coarse hair at the base of his shaft has been trimmed neatly. Part of you wants to drop to your knees and take him into your mouth, but another part is aching to feel him fill you.

“You’re pretty,” Alex says, and you giggle at the compliment. He presses a pert kiss to your nose before cradling your stomach against his palm. “Don’t wanna hurt yeh, darling. Wanna make it the best I can fo’ yeh—just need you t’relax, alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

He starts off slow, encouraging you to spread your legs slightly so that he can cup your cunt. You gasp softly when he places a firm finger against your clit and begins to rub gentle circles against you. He bows his head, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking hungrily, and there’s so much going on that you feel as though you might faint.

“Feels okay?” Alex asks, the words slightly garbled as he sponges kisses along your breasts. You nod frantically, your fingers reflexively tangling into his wet hair.

“Feels good,” you say, allowing your eyelids to drift shut. “Really good.”

“Brilliant,” Alex chuckles, gazing up at you with glimmering eyes. “’M gonna try to add a finger, alright?”

You hum in affirmation, and Alex pulls his mouth away from your chest so that he can watch his hand move against you. He swears under his breath when he circles his index finger around your entrance, feeling the slick that’s accumulated there. Your face heats up in embarrassment when he sends a wicked grin your way. “’S not gonna take long at all, is it?”

“Shut up,” you eek out. You gasp when you feel him dip the tip of his finger inside of you, your hands flying to grip harshly onto his forearm.

“It’s okay,” you tell him when you see him open his mouth. “It’s okay, I’m okay! Keep going, please.”

Alex smiles. “So polite.”

He stifles your whimper with his lips as he slides his finger into you slowly. Your walls clamp down around him, and he groans against your mouth. “Love,” he chokes out, his voice laced with pain. “Y’gotta relax a bit.”

“Sorry,” you say, forcing yourself to unwind. “It’s just…it’s been a while.”

At that, Alex’s brow creases. “‘A while’?”

You snort. “I’ve done this to myself, you know.”

His lips part in surprise, and his eyes grow dark. “Fuckin’ hell,” he grits out, pressing his forehead firmly against your shoulder. “You’ll be the death of me.”

You laugh.

Alex begins to pump his finger gently, building up a steady pace. You pepper kisses along his neck, moaning into his throat whenever he presses down against your clit. After a few minutes, he nips teasingly at your earlobe. “Can I add another? Can I make yeh feel good, love?”

“Yes, please.”

He’s gentle when he slides his middle finger in to join. You exhale shakily, craning your neck up and puckering your lips. Alex chuckles, humouring you and kissing you avidly, his tongue licking into your mouth and his hot breaths spilling out against your chin.

“Wanna make yeh cum like this,” he mumbles, “’Cause…I dunno if you’ll be able t’cum on my cock, y’know? ’S your first time.”

“Alex,” you scoff, rolling your eyes teasingly, “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry.” He grins. You’re about to taunt him again, but then he curls his fingers forward, and your knees quiver. A high-pitched whine slips from your lips, and your walls pulse around him.

“Oh my God,” you moan, tilting your head back. “Do that again.”

He does do it again. And again, and again, and again. He prods that spongey spot inside of you and rubs his thumb against your clit until you’re whimpering and releasing onto his fingers. Alex watches in awe as your eyes roll into the back of your head, and his mouth goes dry when you clamp down tightly on his digits. If you’re that tight around his fingers, how is he supposed to handle you squeezing around his cock?

“Can you—?” you break off, trying to catch your breath. “I want you to—I want you, please.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex soothes you, pressing a feathery kiss to your lips. “Christ,” he whispers, cramming his eyes shut. His cock is painfully hard, and he subconsciously wraps a loose fist around the shaft, giving a few half-hearted pumps. You watch him, chewing anxiously on your bottom lip, and he just reaches for your left thigh, lifting it gently so that he can wrap your leg around his hip.

“You’re sure?” he questions one last time.

You nod quickly. “Want to feel you.”

Alex groans, nearly tumbling forward once he processes your words. He angles the tip of his cock up, running the head along your folds a few times and relishing in the whine that leaves your lips.

“Stop teasing,” you pout. He kisses you chastely, giving you a wry grin.

“Might burn a bit,” he warns, the smile quickly slipping from his face. “Need yeh t’tell me if yeh wanna stop.”

“Okay.” You nod, and Alex lines himself up with your entrance.

Ever so slowly, he tilts his hips forward. You force yourself to relax as his tip slips inside, and for a moment, you don’t even feel anything.

Is this what all the fuss is about?

But then he begins to push in a bit deeper, and you wince as you feel yourself spreading around him. He goes at a gradual, lenient pace, his eyes trained on your face to spot any hint of discomfort. It’s really, truly sweet, and you suddenly are overrun by the urge to kiss him.

So, you do.

You keep your lips melded to his as he enters you inch by inch. The stretch makes your eyes water, and Alex kisses all over your face to try and keep you calm. “How far in are you?” you ask, closing your eyes.

“More than halfway.” Alex’s voice is strangled, cracking on the last syllable. He nuzzles his nose against yours, his warm breaths wafting out onto your mouth. “You’re doin’—fuck—so good fo’ me, love. So, so good.”

“Yeah?” Despite your uneasiness, you open your eyes and give him a small smile.

He returns it, nudging his prick a bit further and nodding fiercely. “Yeah.”

When he finally bottoms out, he gives you a minute to adjust. You swallow down the fat lump in your throat and exhale steadily, feeling yourself pulse around where he’s buried to the hilt inside of you. One of Alex’s hands is on your thigh, keeping it hitched up onto his waist; the other is stroking your cheek and brushing your hair away from your face.

“Is it good for you?” you whisper.

Alex squeezes his eyes shut for only a moment, his nostrils flaring dramatically. “Fuck, love—y’have no idea.”

“Good.” You smirk.

Alex chuckles, and the force of it causes his prick to shift a bit within you. You gasp when he brushes up against that special spot, immediately unspooling some of the tension from your shoulders. He looks at you with wide, panicked eyes, but you just trail your thumb idly against his cheek, patting his jaw appreciatively.

“That felt nice,” you tell him.

He cocks an eyebrow teasingly. “An oddball, you are.”

You giggle.

The two of you stay like that for another minute or so, poking fun at one another and snickering like children. You clear your throat, shooting Alex a small smile and nodding once. “You can move, I think. It doesn’t burn as much anymore.”

“Good, good,” Alex rambles before he’s securing your thigh a bit higher up on his waist. He pulls back, and his cock slides out of you slowly. A moment later, he glides back in, the fit slick and smooth. You bite your bottom lip, grinning up at him.

“I like it,” is all you say.

Alex cackles.

After that, things are easy. He develops a stable, fixed pace, sliding into you with just the right amount of pressure. The unusual stiffness has seeped out of your body; you allow yourself to go lax as Alex loops your other leg around his hips and keeps you pressed firmly against the wall of the shower. The warm water sluices down against his back and wets his hair, but neither of you pay it any attention. Alex is kissing at your cheeks and your neck and your breasts, and you don’t think you’ve ever been happier.

You’re having fun.

“This is so nice,” you say airily, planting a short kiss to his lips. “I really like it.”

“Yeah?” Alex grins. He plants a sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. “You’re so cute, love.”

“Quit it,” you giggle, but he just shakes his head.

“I will not,” he says, faking offense, “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and I’ll be damned if I can’t tell yeh that every day.”

“Alex,” you whimper. You grip his face in your hands and press a bruising kiss to his lips. He returns it with just as much passion, his thrusts growing slightly sloppy when your walls flutter around him.

“Y’feel good,” he chokes out, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “’M gonna cum.”

“I want you to,” you tell him, whispering the words as sultrily as you can. You kiss the shell of his ear. “Want to feel you cum.”

“Love,” Alex wheezes. He increases the speed of his hips only slightly, like he’s still more concerned with how you’re feeling rather than the state of his own pleasure. You find it dreadfully charming.

“I love you,” you mumble, digging your fingers into his hair and yanking lightly on the sopping tendrils. “Cum for me.”

“Fuck!” Alex cries out into your throat, his movements stuttering to a stop as he tenses. You gasp when you feel his cock jerk inside of you, and then he’s pulling himself out and spurting hot ribbons of cum all over your stomach. He clenches his eyes shut, his lips forming around silent prayers and pleas.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he babbles, trying to regulate his frantic breathing. He presses himself tightly against you, not caring about the fact that his own release smears messily onto his abdomen. You smile when he squeezes your hips tightly, but his next words knock the air from your lungs.

“I love you, I bloody do. I love you so damn much.”

~*~

“Alex?” you call out.

Alex lifts his head from the fluffy pillow, groaning as he slides out of bed. “’S wrong?” he replies, his voice croaky.

“Could you come here for a minute?”

He walks down the hall of the apartment, peeking into each room and moving on when he doesn’t find you. He finally joins you in the kitchen, standing in the doorway and watching as you stare at the calendar that he’s got hanging on the refrigerator.

You look good. Alex never thought he’d get to see you in only a pair of his boxers and a large, baggy sweater, but here you are. He walks over to you slowly, wrapping his arms around your midsection and chuckling quietly when you jump in surprise.

“You scared me,” you murmur, and Alex presses an apologetic kiss to the side of your head.

“Sorry.” He pauses for a moment before continuing, moving his hand down your body so that he can splay his palm out over your stomach. “Sore?”

“A bit,” you tell him, though you shrug nonchalantly, “It’s not the end of the world, though.”

Alex smiles. “Why’d yeh need me t’come all the way over here, hmm?”

In response, you point to one of the small squares on his calendar. He’s written down a few words in his messy scrawl, but it’s clear enough for you to understand.

“Doctor Ryan Lawrence,” you read out, biting down gently on your bottom lip, “Is that him?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “Why? Did yeh think I was lying or summat?”

“What?” you spin around, shaking your head furiously. “No, of course not.”

“I’m just teasin’, love,” Alex grins, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You lean into his touch, looking up at him with big, sympathetic eyes.

“I’m glad you’re doing this,” you say, “Thank you.”

“’M not doin’ it for you, darling,” he says, but then he stops and rethinks his sentence. “Actually, I guess I am mostly doin’ it for you. But who knows? Maybe there’s somethin’ in it fo’ me too.”

You loop your arms around his waist and hug him tightly. “I hope so.”

Alex kisses your hair. “We’re alright, yeah? We’re good?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, pulling back and giving him the brightest smile—he swears he’s never seen anything like it. You smooth your hands along his back and gaze up at him with eyes that are filled with so much love, he doesn’t know how to react.

“We’re absolutely perfect.”

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#harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #dunkirk!au #i wrote 5.5k today ALONE i worked so damn hard on this series so i hope you all love it!!!!#ALSO I THINK THE GIF PRETTY MUCH SUMS ALEX UP IN THIS PART SKJLFLSJF #harry writing

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sunnysidewrites · 7 years

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Assassin!Seungcheol Pt 2 FINALE

THIS IS LONGER THAN WOLF!WONWOO BY 5 WORDS IM SCREAMING THIS IS OFFICIALLY MY LONGEST SCENARIO EVER!!!! bc i tagged her in part 1, im tagging @cheollies again bc she was one of the reasons why i was motivated ljdsfljdfl <3333 THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR WONDERFUL FEEDBACK IM SO SORRY ITS LATE!!! THIS IS A WILD RIDE AGAIN!! ENJOY THE FINALE MY CHILDREN!!!! <333333

warnings: some violence, references to part 1, my tears and anguish from completing this

Part 1 | Part 2 (Finale)

Two months.

That’s how long it had been since you had contacted him

You sighed as you stirred your coffee

Yep, you guessed it, in the same cafe that all the workers know you on a first name basis

Why do I keep coming back here? You glumly chided yourself, your cheek resting on your palm

You check your phone for the twentieth time that hour, wishing to have at least some notification about his whereabouts

Even if it’s something like “hey i’m safe and don’t look for me”

Bc all you need is just some validation that he’s okay,,,, but nothing. No texts, no calls, no “accidental” video calls, no “hey loser where are you” to check in where you are,,,, all you get is a black screen

Even though you practically have your lockscreen ingrained in your head from the amount of times you’ve seen it, you still can’t help but choke up a little

A blurry candid of seungcheol holding out his hand about to smear you with his ice cream mockingly stares back at you

You shake your head and get up your seat as you pack your things

You’re done. You’re done waiting. You gave him two whole freaking months, an entire 60 days. Sulking around waiting for someone to come back to you isn’t your forte.

And that will end today, you resolutely nod to yourself and start heading out the door.

“You what?!”

He sighs and holds his hand up, “Please. Don’t yell. It’s early.” He reaches his hand out for a biscuit

“How can you even nonchalantly eat breakfast right now??! Do you even understand what you’ve done?!” Joshua smacks his hand, dropping the biscuit

“Um hEY--”

“You made it this far without him suspecting anything, which is a major surprise and accomplishment. But it will bite you in the butt sooner or later, Cheols.” He briefly flinches at the name but Joshua is just prESSING the issue

“He’s gonna kill you. Not only you but probably her too. This is way too dangerous!”

“jOSHUA! Please! I know what I did, and I absolutely have no regrets.” He shakes his head, a faraway gaze in his eyes. “I’ve killed many people before, but I at least knew the gist of why I was. But she,,,, she’s just a pawn in my dad’s game,,, completely useless”

Joshua leans back in his chair and blinks slowly

“You love her. Don’t you,” he says more as a statement than an inquiry

He takes his silence as a definite answer and rubs his forehead. “Seungcheol…”

“Look, he’s been giving me regular jobs to do, you know the usual. He hasn’t caught on… yet… And he has much bigger things to worry about.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not keeping tabs!”

He sighs, ready to cut off the conversation. “We’re done here--”

And there he sees

He freezes, the only thing moving is his eyes on someone’s figure

You walk down the street taking in the bustling city view

Your eyes flicker to a table outside a store a few blocks ahead

You stop and squint your eyes. That wasn’t… was it?

You rub your eyes but by then the two people sitting there disappeared

You shake your head and continue walking, completely convinced you’re getting delirious by the second

You finally disappear out of sight and only then does seungcheol let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding

“Dude,,,, you have to tell her at some point”

“I know… I know.”

You barge and storm in the office with your arms folded

“I need to find someone.”

Your father looks up from his paperwork, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose

“Y/N… can this wait?”

“I have been for two months and I’m sick of it. I need you to hire someone to help me find them”

“Sweetie, I’m really busy--”

“Dad….. Dad please. I have to. I need to.”

“....fine. I’ll have my assistant deal with it”

And you’re like yES OMG ILY THANKS POPS

He tells you to go to his assistant’s office a little ways down the hall where you’re greeted by the typical warm person

“Hello, Ms. Y/N, I haven’t seen you in a while!”

“Hi jeonghan!!! Look I really need you to find someone asap”

“Ah, yes, your father just notified me about that just now,,,, well I’ll do my best to search for someone in our team. Give me until the end of the day today?”

And you’re like oh my god he’s willing to put this fIRST :’)))))

“Omg that’s actually really fast,,, don’t you have more important things to do? I can wait a few days if that’s the case,,,,”

“No no! Ahah it’s fine you just hang on tight, I will definitely get back to you shortly!”

You’re like oH MY GOD YAY JEONGHAN U ARE SO NICE AND THE BEST NO ONE CAN COMPARE and you promptly hug him before leaving

“Yeah,,,, nice,,, that’s all I’ll ever be,” he wistfully smiles and lets out a small sigh

You come back to the office later that night and Jeonghan is like i found one of our best investigators/hackers!!!!

You’re like omg aju nICE

You and the woman walk to her “headquarters,” is what she calls them when it's just the room she works in lmao

The moment you both get settled you make it crystal clear

“Choi Seungcheol.”

And obviously you tell her a little more about him lmao

All you can see is her fingers flying over the keyboard and tons of files filling the screen

She spends a few more minutes digging but she’s like sorry babe none of them fit your description

And you’re like that can’t be right,,,,,

“Can you check the surveillance cameras? On streets and stuff?”

You tell her the date, time, and location of when you last saw him and she dives into another search party

“hmmm -- i foUND SOMETHING”

You see when he kisses you and you have to shield your eyes away from the impact,,,, your chest suddenly feels heavier

She senses this and gently places her hand on top of yours

“,,,,I’m sorry. We’ll find him”

She follows the cameras once he heads home and she’s like ok well looks like he’s staying in this beat up motel

She reviews cams even up to present day and still sees him leaving and entering the building and you’re like ok i’m sold and start to get up

She puts a hand on your arm and is like uh wait honey you aren’t going alone

“Well who else is gonna go??”

“Me. I was physically trained sufficiently enough for a bodyguard position, so don’t sweat”

She stands up and starts rummaging through her makeshift closet to pull out 2 bulletproof vests

You look at her stunned before breaking out in a grin

“I’m game.”

“You went back on my orders? Do you know what position you’re in?!” He barks

Seungcheol trains his eyes on the floor and numbly responds, “I didn’t think there was a reason to kill an innocent person who has no involvement in this business. It’s her father, no?”

His dad sighs and rubs his temples. “Son, you follow. I command. I guess you’ll just have to face the consequences for not obeying me, your own father… Tsk,” he distastefully clucks his tongue. “You actually thought I didn’t know this entire time. I knew you didn’t kill her that night of your romantic doings”

“I know,,, It just happened,,,, I had to do it to get her to trust me” stop lying to urself cheols smh we and mr choi all know ur whipped

“Just please leave her alone.”

His icy chuckle sends shivers down Seungcheol’s spine for the first time

“Ohoho,,, you thought you were the one in trouble?”

Seungcheol looks up at him with his eyes narrowed in confusion

And then they narrow in fury

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I most certainly would.” does anyone get the reference lmao #tb to part 1

“What did you dO TO HER”

“Guess you’ll both find out. Shall we?”

“This,,,, is where he’s staying at?”

You look at the paint peeling off the sign “Stay Inn”

The hinges of the battered doors are about to come off

Two streetlamps flicker lazily, yellow light pathetically illuminating the parking lot

“The footage doesn’t lie,” she says as she takes a look around. “Room 114, let’s go”

You and her cautiously creep up in front of the door and then kick it wide open

“....No one’s here.” And you can’t help but feel a lil disappointed :((

Both of you are looking around his room for any sort of clues but it looks like any (less than) average hotel room with clothes scattered everywhere and plastic plates littered around the table

Eventually you both ditch the place and you’re about to call it a day when she abruptly stops you

“Wait. i heard something over there,” she subtly looks over at the other side of the street

You hold your breath as she discreetly scans around the area and then

“geT DOWN!” She pulls your arm down as she drops to the ground

Your ears are ringing from the gunshots from the one right next to you and the one on the other side

“We have to leave now!” She scrambles up and tries hiding behind parked vehicles on the curb as she pushes you to move

You’re able to run down only a couple of blocks when you see another group of men coming at you in the same direction

You look to your right and there’s also another group

She curses under her breath before pulling you to another direction, “this way!”

You have to weave through miscellaneous objects through alleys and garbage cans

You’re pushing your legs as fast as you can despite the growing burning sensation LOL I LOVE THAT ALBUM STAN TALENT STAN SF9

You’re about to collapse when someone tACKLES YOU FROM BEHIND

“Mmfdffmlfj!!!!” Your cries are muffled behind their hand

The last thing you remember is her voice calling your name

“Try again.” You can barely make out the words before the frigid water hits your face

You cough violently and open your eyes

“Ah, you’re finally awake.”

In the dimly lit room your eyes try to adjust to the dark shapes and what seems to be in some sort of empty abandoned building

The man gestures to someone to brighten up the place and only then do you take a good look at who’s in front of you

The infamous Mr. Choi staring back at you, the very man your father has talked about countless of times

“Bring him out,” he orders as he keeps his eyes locked with yours

You hear the heavy grunt of the metal door opening and you instantly hear a voice that you’ve spent this entire time searching for

“Let.. me… go!” He spits out as he attempts to wriggle out of the men’s grips

He looks up and it’s all that takes him to still again

Your disheveled wet hair sticking to the edges of your face, the top you bought in the mall that one day now drenched in water, the dismay in your eyes

His breath gets caught in his throat before he angrily turns to his father and fumes, “Why is she here? Why did you bring me?”

He chuckles and strides to you with every menacing step

“Didn’t I say you would both find out?” He traces your jaw and you have to use every fiber of your body to not vomit on his polished Prada leather dress shoes

Seungcheol grits his teeth and violently thrashes around in their grip around him

Your breathing gets heavier as his hand drifts down to your neck

“Would be a shame to end things here… wouldn’t it?” He laughs before whipping out a gun from his pocket

“But let’s just cut out the games. You were meant to die on that night, but my idiot of a son couldn’t do it.” He points the head right in front of you

“So i’ll do it in his stead. Any last words you wanna exchange?” He gestures to you and his son

You look around to find any way out but all the entrances are utterly blocked by his guards

You slowly turn around to the rustling noise

“Stop it, Seungcheol…. Don’t act like you care.”

He looks at you in bewilderment and scoffs, “Act? You think I’m acting? I nearly risked my life to save yours! And this is just,,,, acting?”

“You were supposed to kill me that night. And you didn’t. That was your biggest mistake. You should have just ended things, not like the pathetic way you did over the phone,” your voice slightly faltered.

“It wasn’t a mistake! I wanted you to get away from this, to get away from me! Why can’t you understand that?” He was in disbelief; he practically saved you!

“You’re right. It was a bigger mistake on my end that I believed I mattered for once in my life.” He softens his facial expressions when you look up at him with a dead stare. “Y/N….”

You numbly turn back at the gun pointed in front of you

“So? Aren’t you gonna do it?”

He laughs at your provocation and merely shrugs

“If you say so”

You hear him loading the gun and just when you anticipate a bullet firing, you hear one but from behind you

The entire building is in chaos and smoke and dirt fill your vision

“Seungcheol!” Joshua and Junhui along with a whole team invade the space

He only points towards you and yells over the noise to have them focus on your safety

They nod and send the team over to help you get out of the guards’ grip

Joshua, Junhui, and 2 others are staying back to help Seungcheol as the rest of the group rushes to your side

As he’s ducking with his arms over his head, he pulls out his gun and manages to skim Minghao’s arm

He curses and holds his wound together while shouting something to another member

Soonyoung kicks the gun out of Mr. Choi’s hands as Jihoon and Seungkwan lock his arms with handcuffs

Two people who quickly introduce themselves as Wonwoo and Mingyu are on both of your sides with their arms wrapped around your shoulders

They’re talking so quickly that all the coherent words you can hear are “get” “you” “safety” “right now”

“Seungcheol??” You look at both of them, but neither are meeting your gaze

“He told us to get you first. He’ll be fine,,, he has the rest of the guys there”

“But what if he’s hurt?!”

Wonwoo quickly looks back at his shoulder and sees a few of the guards running after them

“There’s no time! We have to go right now!”

You finally burst out into the open chilly night air and make a beeline for the waiting van parked outside

They push you in first and once Mingyu slides in he immediately slams the door shut. “fLOOR IT!!!”

Vernon slams on the gas pedal and you’re off

The entire car ride is silent save for the heavy breathing from the adrenaline pumping through everyone

Wonwoo, the closest one next to you, puts his hand reassuringly on your knee

“We’re taking you to our headquarters, which is essentially our hideout,,, you’ll be safe there, I promise”

Still staring out the window, you numbly nod as he slowly removes his hand

When you arrive there, you do what they told you to: cleanse, get dressed, and hold on tight as they find a way to contact her father

After a somewhat relaxing shower, you emerge from the bathroom wearing a baggy shirt underneath a hoodie up to mid-thigh and sweats that were left outside of the door when someone named Chan knocked on it earlier

You walk to the living room where everyone is gathered around a circle talking about different methods of communication with everyone

“Oh, Y/N,” Wonwoo gets up and jogs to you. “Feel free to get something from the kitchen to eat. You can hang around the front or the back, but it’s really dark and cold, so we don’t want anything more bad to happen”

You flicker your eyes from his face to the other 3 on the couches

They slightly wave to you with a small smile and continue their discussion

You nod and thank him before heading to the kitchen

You grab an ice cream bar and a bottle of water before heading out to the front

You sit on a bench and look up at the starry night sky

Just earlier this morning, you were resolute to find him

And now fast forward to the end of the day, you were with his coworkers at their hideout

As you finish up your dessert, you brush yourself off and take a look around the area

You go around to the back and see a picnic table with folding chairs all over the yard

As you approach the table, you see a few polaroids that seem to be too familiar

“Wait… this was when we went to the cafe….”

You flip over each picture and see scribbles of writing on them

“The ice cream wasn’t as sweet as her”

You flip over each picture and see more writing similar to the caption before and realize all of the pictures are of you

The last one you flip over is the last night you saw him

He took a picture of you talking to your cousin,,,, you slowly turn over the picture

“This could have been me…”

“There you go again.”

You quickly put down the picture and slowly turn towards the voice

Seungcheol, all battered and bruised, is standing just 10 feet away

Cuts and scrapes are all over his face and arms, his clothes ripped and dirtied

He slowly walks towards you and you can’t help but to lean against the table for support

“Do… what?”

He stops in front of you, his face only inches away from yours

“Being irresistible. We’re not even together yet and you’re already wearing my clothes?”

“What makes you think we’re going to get together? Do you always want to kill your potential girlfriends?”

He gently places his hand on your chin and turns your head to face him

“No. Do you always go on a spontaneous hunt for a guy and end up almost dying?”

“That’s not fair; I didn’t know you were caught up in this shady stuff!”

“....Are you gonna walk away from it? From me?” He looks at you, a hint of desperation and anxiety in his eyes. “That’s exactly why I told you to forget about me”

You place both of your hands on his face, caressing his cheeks. “If we’re gonna make this relationship work, we’re gonna have to go over some rules about secrets”

He lights up at the word “relationship” and you can’t help but smile at his childlike grin

“You gotta stop that too”

He’s like ??? what do you mean

“Being vulnerable.” And you both seal your promises with a lingering kiss that tastes like coffee ice cream

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todisturbtheuniverse · 7 years

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FIC: Reparations

Fandom: Critical Role Characters: Grog Strongjaw & Scanlan Shorthalt Rating: T Word Count: 2,000 Summary: While hunkering down in the mansion on their first night in the Shadowfell, Scanlan and Grog start to repair their friendship. Also on: AO3 Notes: I’m sure (rather, I hope) that we’ll get lots of these little moments of friendships being repaired between Scanlan and the group, and they’ll be excellent, but I wanted to sneak my own idea in before tomorrow’s episode airs.

Even in the Shadowfell, Grog has to practice.

At least he has a Lionel-free sandpit to practice in. No one to watch him all keen while he sounds out words and spells them out loud and traces their letters out on the parchment. And he found a nice flat shield in the corner to put his parchment on, too, so it doesn't get sand on it.

Reading's easier than the writing part. He can kind of guess at the reading, especially if he says it out loud. But even though Percy and Tary put together a special quill for him after he broke a dozen ordinary ones, even though he goes slow and careful to make the shapes, he's just bad at the writing. Pike says that it'll get easier with time, and he believes her, but in the middle of practicing, he's always angry and frustrated that so many things take time.

He's angry and frustrated about lots of things. He needs to find something to squish. Hopefully tomorrow.

We killed, he's written so far. He adjusts the quill in his fingers—fingers better-suited to holding swords and hammers and things that are the correct size, that match him—and puts it back to the parchment. The ink comes out of the quill itself, another smart thing that smart people like Percy and Tary can come up with. Easier than dipping it in an ink pot, which probably wouldn't survive the bag of holding, anyway.

some, he continues. He likes the letter o best. Easy to make. He admires the way it looks on the parchment, like some school-fresh kid wrote it.

"What's that, Grog?"

He doesn't smash the carefully-constructed quill, just barely. The hand holding down the left side of the parchment nearly crumples the whole thing, though. He hastily smooths out the corner. He only has so much parchment. He doesn't know how long they'll be in this…place.

Maybe Scanlan's gotten quieter while he was away. Or maybe Grog's gotten dumber, or deafer, or something, so that Scanlan can sneak up on him easy-peasy and judge the shape of his letters, which, aside from the os, still look like something scratched out in the mud by a chicken.

"Nothing," he grunts. He imagines, though, that piece of parchment that Pike read so smoothly while he was too nervous to. If the fight hadn't thrown him off so bad, he'd have taken it, easy as anything, and read it out right there. That would've showed Scanlan.

In worse moments, he thinks that maybe he'd have ripped it up to pieces without reading it once, instead. Doesn't need to prove himself to anybody.

He starts to fold the parchment. Scanlan sits down beside him in the sand, digging his feet into it.

"Shouldn't you be resting up for tomorrow?" Grog says, because he can't read that smoothly and that well, and his letters do look awful, and he spent that imaginary moment cowering behind Pike, hating Scanlan as much as he missed him.

"Oh, you know me, can't sleep a damn with a place like that outside my front door. Were you writing?"

Grog glances around, hoping that someone might appear to take Scanlan off his hands. Like Vax. Vax seems pleased to have him around. But Vax—the dick—is nowhere to be found when you want to find him. Probably off looking for shit to get into, outside the safety of the mansion door. Almost fervently, Grog hopes that he will find some shit. Then Grog can go save his ass, and not have to sit here and talk to Scanlan.

"You don't have to show me," Scanlan goes on. "I'm just impressed, is all." His eyes drift over to the salt lick rock, still holding down the other side of the parchment, the part that isn't folded.

Anger is familiar to Grog, an old friend. He knows it well enough to keep it from hurting him, or anyone else he doesn't want to hurt. But the flame of it licks up inside his ribs, and he nearly embraces it. He nearly wants to hurt Scanlan. He's been fighting the confusion of that impulse ever since the disguise dissolved, revealing a man that stood about as small as Grog feels.

"Don't talk down to me," he says instead, which Pike says is a plainer way to say condespend—condestand? Well, that's why he knows talk down, because he can never remember the con-whatever one.

Scanlan peers up at him. "I'm not."

He says it earnestly, like a truth, but Scanlan says all things like that, even when he's lying. Maybe especially when he's lying. When Grog tries to name all the times Scanlan might've been lying, he gets a headache trying to keep track. It's a lot. Grog is aware that it's not so hard to fool him.

"Grog, do you know how many people can't read and write? It's not a common skill." Scanlan pauses, frowning. "You know, I was a poor kid. I didn't learn to read and write very early on, either."

Grog leans forward a little, despite himself. Despite his anger. "You're always good with words, though. That's your thing."

Scanlan gives a little shrug. "I learned to talk first, that's all. And I had help. I wasn't all that good before Dr. Dranzel picked me up. I was just performing to make money, you know? To take care of my mother. Lots of people will toss a coin to a poor kid."

Grog digests that a little. Scanlan hasn't talked about his mother, except that one conversation in a room smeared with old pudding, the one Grog sometimes remembers when he's trying to fall asleep and can't.

"Could she read?" Grog asks, despite himself—despite his anger—trying to do what Scanlan had both wanted them all to do, all that time, but also not let them do. It's not fair. But Grog learned early that life isn't fair at all. He paid that lesson in blood.

Scanlan shakes his head. "She never learned."

They both stay quiet for a little while, after that. Grog—big, clumsy, dumb Grog—is afraid to say the wrong thing. Pissed as he still is at Scanlan, he doesn't want him to go away again. Maybe that means the anger's wearing off.

"I want to ask you something," he says instead, eventually.

It's funny, and also not really funny—not at all—the little flicker Scanlan gets in his eyeballs when Grog says that. It's funny because it's the look just-about-dead-people get sometimes, when Grog's bearing down on them. It's not funny because Scanlan is better at lying than that, so is this a lie, too? Trying to practice writing has already given Grog a headache. This is just driving the nail deeper, trying to look all smart at Scanlan's words and actions like he might see the truth in there, under there, somewhere.

"Okay," Scanlan says, drawing out the os.

"Are you going to tell me the truth?" Just to check.

He puffs up a little. Angry, ashamed? Both? "I swear I will."

Grog twitches the parchment open again. It's just one line, every day. Pike says to go slow. He puts the salt lick rock down on one corner and turns the whole thing, slowly, toward Scanlan. After a bit of squinting, he finds the part he's looking for and jabs a finger at the word.

"Is this how you spell your name?"

Scanlan slumps a little, more of his fine clothes getting all full of sand. "Fucking hell, Grog."

"What?" Grog starts to regret this attempt at friendliness. "Is it wrong?"

"No, you just scared the piss out of me. I forgot how intimidating you are."

Grog sits up a little straighter, pleased by this. "Thanks."

Scanlan exhales loudly—a sound of relief—and looks at where Grog's pointing. "It's pretty close. S-c-a-n-l-a-n, not S-c-a-n-l-e-n. You didn't ask Pike?"

"She's mad at you," Grog says, telling it straight. "I didn't want to bring it up."

"You're mad at me, too. You practically dug a hole through the parchment on my name. Scanlan came back today," he reads aloud.

"I'm supposed to write a sentence," Grog explains. "Every day. I almost didn't, that day."

Scanlan's not the same since he came back. He used to never stop smiling. After everything that happened, after all the dragons were dead, Grog understands that that, too, was a lie. But without the constant smile, Scanlan looks much older, more serious. Kind of sad and faraway. It's a look Grog sees more on Percy and Vax. He gets it, right, because Grog gets sad and messed up sometimes, too. Everybody has to. He just misses Scanlan. He doesn't have to have him all the time. Scanlan has Kaylie now. Things have changed a little. But just sometimes, it'd be good to have his buddy back.

"Well, I'm glad you did," Scanlan says. "I would've hated to mess up your streak. That's a lot of sentences."

Grog takes the quill, which miraculously still hasn't broken, and draws over the e in Scanlan's name to make it an a. "There's a lot more, in the bag of holding. I still can't really count that high, so I don't know how many."

"That's great, Grog."

When Grog looks up from correcting the spelling, Scanlan's smiling. It's not the face-splitting grin of a year ago, but it looks…real. For the first time, this entire conversation, Grog believes that it's not a lie.

"Thanks," he says, kind of awkwardly, and to cover emotions he's uncomfortable with, he rushes on, "I'm trying to finish the sentence for today, but I can't think of the right word. I was going to say people?"

Scanlan reads along the last line. "We killed some…right, they didn't really seem like people, did they? More like assholes."

"Assholes," Grog repeats. "Yeah. That's better." He bends back over the parchment. "A," he mutters, half-forgetting Scanlan's there. "s, s, h, o…"

He finishes the sentence, waves the parchment to dry the ink, and folds it up to tuck it back in the bag of holding.

"Hey," Scanlan says, "you hungry? Want to get a drink?"

Grog considers the hopeful look on Scanlan's face.

"Look," he says, "I don't really like that…green leafy crap you eat now, you know? I've got some jerky in the bag of holding," he adds, "if you want any. And ale."

Scanlan leans toward him. "I was kind of fucking with everyone. You can order whatever food you want. You don't have to eat the salad." He sighs, a little pinched around the eyes. "I know, I know. I lied. It's a force of habit."

Grog doesn't know what that means, exactly, but he barks a laugh, so sudden that Scanlan jumps, and says, "That's funny."

Scanlan's eyebrows quirk up. "Really?"

"Yeah, like, that's a funny lie, right? Especially now that you're telling me. Because the others are just going to keep eating leaves." Grog laughs again. Scanlan cracks a tentative smile. "So they'll bring meat? Not chicken," he adds hastily. "Because the cooks at Whitestone made this great thing, it's like a bowl of meat, like cow and pig and all that, and I've got kind of a hankering for it."

Scanlan gets up, brushing the sand off his clothes. "I'm sure the servants can make something like that. And, true to my word, I will have the salad." He winces a little.

Grog gets up, too, and nudges Scanlan with his boot. "Hey, you can have a bite when the servants aren't looking. I won't tell Kaylie."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Scanlan grins, a wide smile from ages past, reminiscent of a long night at the bar, when the rest of Vox Machina have dropped off around them but they're nursing the dregs of their ale, trying to draw the night out to last forever. Grog remembers.

"Well then," Scanlan says. "Let's see what trouble we can get into."

#critical role #grog strongjaw #scanlan shorthalt #critical role spoilers #through ep 101 #friendship #universe writes #fluff #so much fluff

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