#[4 hours ago me] stripping the bed! laundry time! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercy-burning · 3 years

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Sunday Morning

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader’s Sunday opens up, so she concocts a little plan to pass the time. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ This one is pure filth, y’all, buckle up (dom!Spencer, female masturbation, oral sex- male receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, spitting, multiple orgasms) Warnings: sex, strong language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in the warnings. I always want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.6k

NOTE: The more I add to this little series the more excited I get to keep writing it, and it really helps that you all seem to like every new addition, so thank you for all the love! I do have a few more tricks up my sleeve, and I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I do. Part 4 is set to come out either tomorrow or Monday! I hope you enjoy 🥰

***

"Are you sure, Mom? I can still try to come earlier if you want, I don't have anything going on."

Y/N's mother sighed on the other end of the line. "No, that's alright. But I made sure to have off next weekend, so I'll come by your place and we can celebrate then. How's that sound?"

She smiled, happy at the prospect of seeing her mother again soon, but something else crossed her mind that deemed this cancellation a blessing in disguise. "That sounds great. I love you. Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, Sweetie. I love you, too."

She thought about knocking on Spencer's door the second she hung up the phone, but decided that she wanted to have a little more fun, so she hurried to her bedroom. As she grabbed something from the bedside table drawer and planted herself in bed, she felt just the smallest sliver of guilt for being this excited about her mom cancelling their plans. But for one thing they had next weekend, and for another she'd been thinking about her neighbor non-stop since Friday night.

After they had finished their laundry that night, Spencer and Y/N walked up to their hall together and ended up in the shower. They slept in separate places, though, Y/N stumbling back into her apartment at around nine thirty and immediately going to bed. Early, maybe, but she'd just been fucked twice in a row, and the second time had lasted about an hour and a half since they didn't have to worry about anyone walking in and interrupting. Truthfully it was a wonder she could walk at all these days, but she didn't mind either way. Who knew listening in on your neighbor having sex and them finding out about it could turn into something so good?

Which brought Y/N back to the present. Sunday morning. She knew Spencer was an early riser, so he'd definitely be awake. Whether he'd be in bed was another thing, but she decided to take her chances.

So she leaned back against the headboard, spread her legs, and clicked on her vibrator. The familiar buzzing sound sent a jolt of excitement through her body, only made more electric when it made contact with her clit. She pressed it lightly, the setting still low as she closed her eyes. With her goal in mind, it didn't really take long to start feeling something, images and flashbacks of Spencer's head between her legs only adding to the sensations.

"Ohhh," she let out loudly at a particular memory that involved him fingering her in the shower. His lips had been biting and sucking at the skin on her neck while his middle and ring fingers worked inside her, the heel of his hand grinding against her clit. If she thought hard enough, she could be there then, the sound of the vibrator replaced with the hum of the shower.

"Oh, Spencer, please!" she echoed, squeezing her eyes shut and moving the vibrator in small circles around her clit. "Fuck, you feel so good!" At this point she was so lost in the memories that she didn't even remember why she'd started doing this. She was being loud, moaning and sighing as she played out her Friday night in her mind without even trying to get anyone's attention. At this point it was purely for her enjoyment.

Though, that sentiment didn't last very long, because just as she was about to orgasm, her phone buzzed. She could have ignored it, but completely pulled herself out of her fantasy once she realized that it could have been her mother.

Groaning from irritation rather than pleasure, she clicked off the vibrator, set it on the bed, and picked up her phone.

When she saw it, her heart stopped.

From: Spencer Reid Not another sound. Call me for instructions.

"Holy fuck," Y/N gasped, scrambling to hit the 'call' button. It took no time at all for Spencer to answer.

Before she could say anything, his voice rung low on the other end of the line, sending a chill through her body. "Do you want me to come over?"

"Yes," she breathed without a second thought.

"Okay. Is your door unlocked?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause, and for a moment Y/N thought maybe he was leaving his apartment and on his way over, but then he spoke again. "When I get there I want to see you naked and on your knees, facing the wall. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

The sound she heard him make was guttural, somewhere between a growl and a moan, and it shot straight through every bone and muscle in her body. He hung up then, and Y/N practically threw her phone across the room and scrambled to her knees, ripping what little clothing she had off her body and bracing her hands against the headboard. She expected him to be there in a flash, but after waiting for about five minutes, it was obvious that this was part of his game— making her wait. An involuntary whimper escaped her throat at the thought of what he could possibly have planned for her.

When the door sounded from the living room, Y/N jolted, her heartbeat picking up and her hands gripping the headboard so tightly that her knuckles ached. Did she dare turn her head around to see him when he walked in? If she did, what would he do to punish her? Would he punish her at all?

For a moment she wondered if she'd even heard the door at all, because again, it took forever for him to get there. But then she heard a soft groan sounding from the bedroom door and her breath hitched in her throat.

"Oh, good girl. Look at you..."

His words, his voice... Y/N let out a shaky breath and bit her lip, wondering if she should speak. Eventually, she did. "W-what took you so long?"

Spencer laughed behind her, still not in view. "I had to make you wait, pretty girl. Where would be the fun in just giving you what you want?"

She didn't know what to say. So she silently waited for instruction, her hands loosening around the headboard just a little, trying to relax.

He got closer, and it sounded like he was stripping layers of clothing as he did so. Eventually he reached the side of her bed and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately letting out a soft whimper at the sight of him. He had, indeed, been stripping clothing as he made his way to her, wearing only a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips and dropping his shirt to the ground. Y/N let her gaze travel along his body before meeting his eyes and almost falling to pieces when she did.

This amused him. "Already so eager, pretty girl? I haven't even done anything yet."

She wasn't sure what to say, so she told the truth. "Just you being here is enough. You've completely ruined me."

Spencer laughed and brought his hand out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand, to which she sighed and closed her eyes "Not yet."

She opened her eyes again at that promise, and just by looking at him, she practically pleaded with him to do something, every inch of her body, mind, and soul completely blinded by his presence.

Seeming to take pity on her, or maybe just because seeing her like this was driving him mad, she wasn't sure, Spencer obliged, leaning forward and kissing her deeply. As per usual, she melted into him, struggling to keep her weight up on her knees. Her hands gripped onto the headboard for dear life as he brought his face closer, using both his hands to cradle her face and his tongue to open her mouth. She'd already decided long ago that she would give him anything he wanted, and this was no different. He kissed her wildly and she kissed him back with the same fervor, groaning into his mouth every so often. At one point she lost her balance and fell forward, pulling Spencer onto the bed, and he broke away, a laugh playing at his lips right after.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry," he reassured, climbing up the bed and reaching for her hands. He was laying on his side now, pulling her towards him, and butterflies erupted in her stomach at the wholesomeness of it all. It was like the entire mood shifted from being domineeringly sexy to sweetly intimate.

Spencer all but pulled Y/N on top of him, rolling over on his back and forcing her to straddle his lap when he pulled her down for another kiss. The fabric of his sweatpants grazed her bare clit as she moved, making her rock her hips forward and causing him to groan into her mouth. He broke the kiss apart for a moment to say, "Keep doing that, pretty girl," and then resumed kissing her, barely giving her time to process his words.

In the end she did it anyway, grinding down on him and moaning as she did so, every movement slowly but surely bringing her closer to orgasm again. She was so caught up in the feeling that she didn't notice Spencer grabbing the vibrator still on her bed until she heard it turn on, that familiar buzzing pulling her from her haze.

She broke apart from him, cheeks red. "I totally forgot to put that away, I'm so— oh!"

Before she could finish her apology, Spencer had the vibrator pressed to her clit, and she closed her eyes, instinctively grinding down for more friction. This in turn caused him to let up, pulling the vibrator away just a little, and she whined.

"God, I love hearing how needy you are, baby," he breathed, teasing her. "Can't you feel it?" Every time Y/N rocked her hips, she could feel his cock getting harder through his pants, it had been unmistakable. When she didn't respond with words, he brought the vibrator away and reiterated, "Don't you feel it?"

"Yes, I love feeling how hard your cock gets for me," she breathed, grinding down on it and hoping for him to respond in kind. When he did, she gasped, opening her eyes and bracing her hands on his bare chest. "Fuck, you know how to make me feel so good."

"That's what I like to hear. Now get up for me." He pulled the vibrator away once more and she whined again at the loss of contact, but got up nonetheless. "Sit up on your knees and put your back against the headboard, okay? I want to fuck that pretty little throat."

Don't have to tell me twice, she thought greedily as she did as she was told. Spencer moved the pillows out of her way and tossed them to the foot of the bed as she sat on her knees. The cool metal of the headboard somewhat calmed the heat radiating off of her body, though ultimately it couldn't dwell the heat she felt when he looked at her, standing on the bed and sliding down his pants and underwear in one fluid motion before kicking them to the side, holding her gaze the entire time.

Just as Y/N was about to lean forward, he placed a hand on her head, gripping some of her hair and tilting her head up to really look at him. "Not yet. Give me your hands." She held them out to him, unsure of what he was planning, but when he gathered them both in one hand and pinned them to the wall above her head, she bit her lip. The grin he wore gave her shivers, just before he said, "Open up wide, pretty girl."

She licked her lips and then opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out and down as far as it would go to make room as she stared up at his face. The second his dick touched her tongue she groaned, ready for whatever he was about to give her. If she tried to bob her head, it would hit the headboard rather hard, so she opted to stay still, letting Spencer get off on his own terms. Which they both seemed to be happy with, because every time he hit the back of her throat, she moaned, nearly gagging, and in turn he bit his lip and tightened his grip in her hair and on her wrists.

"You always take my cock so well, fuck," he groaned, quickening his pace. She didn't know what feeling she was trying to convey as she did so, but nonetheless she hummed around him, trying her best not to choke but ultimately failing. He pulled away for a moment, releasing her hair from his grip and letting her breathe for all of two seconds before tapping his dick on her tongue a few times in quick succession. The action made her moan, and against her better judgement, she leaned forward to take him in her mouth again, hollowing her cheeks. Her wrists strained against his hands as he grinned. "You liked that, huh?"

She got out a 'mhmm' around his cock quickly before he thrusted forward and hit the back of her throat again, sending her head against the metal of the headboard. She winced a little in pain, but welcomed it all the same, looking up at him through hooded eyes and trying to tell him without words that she wanted this more than anything.

It seems like he got the memo, because he brushed the hair from her face in a sweet gesture that completely contradicted what he was doing to her mouth. He gave a few more purposeful thrusts, holding himself down her throat for a few seconds before pulling away completely and letting go of her wrists. Spit dripped down her chin as she caught her breath, but she smiled all the same, bringing her hands down to wipe the wetness from her face and some of the tears on her cheeks. "I love when you use me like that, baby," she purred, rubbing her legs together and running her tongue over her bottom lip.

Spencer leaned down and kissed her again, pulling her up to stand with him before pushing her against the wall, her legs hitting the headboard. She moaned into his mouth and brought her hands up to comb through his hair, to which he sighed and pressed into her harder. The weight of him made Y/N all warm and safe as she realized she would spend the rest of her life wrapped up in him if she could. Yes, their relationship as of late had been inherently sexual in nature, but something about the way he took precise care with her body as he kissed her like this, cradling her face in his large hands and keeping himself as close as he could get, made Y/N weak. She trusted Spencer Reid with her life, and she could only hope that he felt the same way, even if just a little.

Though she was a little disappointed when he broke the kiss, what he did next took that disappointment and pummeled it to the ground, transforming it into hunger.

His thumb ran over her lips before pushing further into her mouth. She gladly took it, swirling her tongue around it and then groaning as he brought it out, running it down her chin and tilting her head up to look at him.

"How do you want it, pretty girl?" he asked softly, making her practically crumble beneath him.

The question itself and the way he said it was hot as hell. But there was no way she would have been able to choose. Truthfully, he could do it any way and she'd just as easily give up everything to experience it again. Even as she tried quickly to come up with something, blurting out anything, all that came out was, "However you want me." It was the pure, unabashed truth.

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment before simply scooping her up from her feet, kneeling down, and laying her on her back. His dominating presence seemed to take over again as he scooted her to him by her legs. She yelled out as he wrapped them promptly around his shoulders and pushed into her without a second thought. He went easy at first, taking his time getting to just be inside her again, but Y/N wanted more.

"Fuck me harder," she moaned out desperately, reaching out to grab the blankets.

A dark chuckle left Spencer's mouth as he leaned forward, stretching her legs closer to her chest and angling himself deeper inside her. All the while, his pace never slowed or increased, and neither did his pressure. "You're getting greedy, pretty girl. But you're gonna take what I give you. Guess you should have thought of that before you let me choose how to fuck you."

And at that sentiment, he leaned forward even further, slamming into her hard, and Y/N's breath caught in her throat at the sensation. He pulled out slow and did it again, and again, and again, each time pushing her farther into the mattress. Upon seeing her squeezed shut eyes and open mouth, he said, "Is this what you wanted? Huh? To be fucked like a whore?"

She opened her eyes and bit her lip as he picked up the pace a little, every stroke sending shots of fire through her veins. She tried to speak but her brain was muddled, every thought clouded by the intense pleasure her body was experiencing. Spencer noticed this, and with a small laugh reached his hand out and grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open as he went faster. "Aww, the little slut can't even speak, I've been fucking her so good. Is that right?"

Her only answer was a moan as he went deeper and faster, hitting her g-spot with every thrust forward, to which he laughed again.

"Tongue out, baby," he demanded sweetly, leaning forward. Y/N knew exactly what he was going to do, and she eagerly did as she was told, her eyes lighting up as she did. Watching, and then feeling Spencer spit directly on her tongue, feeling it slide down as she swallowed it, only added to her pleasure, and she knew it wouldn't be long until she fell over the edge.

"I-I'm..." was all she could manage to get out.

"Go ahead, pretty girl, let it all out."

And so she did, letting out a string of yells that barely resembled his name. But he wasn't done yet, and so even after she'd come down he continued his brutal pace inside of her and brought himself closer, caressing her face as he did so. The discomfort shortly morphed into painful pleasure as Y/N approached another high.

"You gonna give me another one? I know you can take it." And as if those words weren't enough, he added something that sent a chill through her. "It's a shame you're not on birth control, because I'd love nothing more than to fill up that slutty little pussy. Make you mine."

Just like that, she was gone, her eyes squeezed shut and seeing stars dance behind them as she came another time. It only lasted a few seconds shorter than her previous orgasm, but Spencer pulled out and away, dangerously close to his own. She composed herself, slowly opening her eyes to see him jerking off over her. In a split second decision, she opened her mouth and groaned, without words telling him exactly what she wanted. And he was more than happy to give it to her, removing her legs from his shoulders and moving up her body with the slyest grin she'd seen from him yet.

"That's a good girl," he got out just before she felt his cum coat her mouth. While most of it slid down the back of her tongue and pooled in the back of her throat, a little missed and landed on her cheek, but she smiled nonetheless, welcoming its warmth. When he was done, panting above her, she brought her tongue out to swirl around the head of his cock before swallowing and smiling back at him

She was about to wipe the cum off her cheek, but before she could get to it, Spencer was on her, leaning down and doing the unexpected. She whined as he brought his tongue down and scooped it off her cheek, then moving to her mouth and kissing her, practically feeding himself to her. As they continued making out like that, her head swam. She swore with every new second she spent with him, she was getting more and more invested, craving him in almost every capacity. So when he pulled away, breaking their kiss and laying down beside her, she scooted closer to him, longing to feel him all around her.

"I don't know how every time gets better and better," she mumbled against his chest, and she felt him laugh.

"What can I say, pretty girl, you give me all sorts of good ideas."

That made her blush, and she snuggled closer to him, their legs tangling together. The two of them stayed like that for a while, comfortable silence settling between them before Spencer spoke, pulling away slightly to look at her face.

"Hey, I was thinking... You don't have to say yes if you don't want to, but I... I wanted to know if you'd maybe want to go to dinner sometime?"

Despite the butterflies blooming in her stomach, Y/N laughed playfully. "You would fuck me senseless and then ask me to dinner all sweetly," she mused, running her fingers through his hair and rubbing her nose against his. "I'd love to."

Spencer let out a sigh, whether from relief or contentment she wasn't sure. Maybe both. But it filled her heart with joy all the same.

"Good," he said, pressing a small kiss to her lips. "It's a date."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut

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waywardbeanie · 4 years

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A Man of Letters - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 6931 ish

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.(Always), angst, spicy (smut), unprotected (ish) sex

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has read so far, thank you for sticking with me! All of the comments and reblogs mean so very much! THANK YOU!

Thank you to my beta’s @winchest09 and @whatareyousearchingfordean without them I would be sunk!

MASTERLIST A Man of Letters

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

Catch up here >>>>>>> A Man of Letters Masterlist

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

Dean “Tongue Magician” Winchester PO Box 323 Sioux Falls, SD 57101

Dear D,

You were right, I got both letters the same day. It was a really nice surprise. I hope that “Sam” likes the brownies. I’m sure they are stale, but I made enough for everyone, so please share them because I know they are for you. Sam literally eats one brownie when I make them. Work has picked up, and my schedule is full most days. I’m happy to be busy when you are gone, it makes the days go by faster, but my bed is too big and empty without you. I’ve slept on the couch a few times since you’ve been gone, I just leave the pillows on, and I can almost convince myself you are here.

I was thinking about the couch night, but now you have me thinking about the bed night, and damn, you are too far away to dwell on that for too long! Also, do not talk to me about me moaning your name in letters because I swear to God I will write you a note that you will have you locking yourself in Baby to read!

Things are pretty quiet here as usual. I went to the farmers market today and bought vegetables. I’m trying to figure out some new recipes to try. I know you said that you were up for anything, just no more butter beans because they taste like mud (which, for the record, they do not!), so we will see what I can do. I saw Mark from the garage there, and he told me to tell you “Hello” and that he is almost finished with the body of the 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda. He wondered when you would be back because he could use your help with the new paint job. I told him that the job you had was going to last longer than most but that I’m sure as soon as you got into town that you would help him.

D, I know we talked about the future before, but are you sure you want to walk away? I’m here no matter what, I’m not going anywhere. You need to be sure this is what you want to do for you. With that being said, I am selfish enough to say I want nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms every night and to wake up next to you each morning. I’m glad you wrote it in a letter because I can read it over and over. Sometimes, when you are gone, I just start questioning things and can be a bit insecure about all of it, but you knew that already.

I guess I should wrap this up, I’m sorry you guys are doing more research, but, as always it will pay off in the end. I’m not surprised you set up training for everyone, that is definitely your thing, and it gives you an excuse not to read those dusty books. You guys be safe and come back soon. I miss your face.

I Love You, Your Initial

3 Years Ago

They were a little over halfway back to the bunker, driving through Hastings, Nebraska, and Sam started to worry. Dean had not spoken 5 words this entire trip. He didn’t even want snacks when they stopped for gas. They have been driving for almost two hours, the radio on low, the only thing consistent is the tapping of his thumb on the top of the steering wheel, lost in his own thoughts.

“Dean.” He broke the silence

“Huh?” pulling himself from his thoughts, glancing at Sam.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing,” raising his eyebrows, he shook his head briefly.

Flicking his eyes to the backseat, Sam confirmed the vamp was still out cold. “Ok, I’ll start. I know that you knew where these vamps were hiding out long before I told you. Instead of helping me, you continued to point me in the wrong direction.”

He rubbed his hand down his face with equal amounts of irritation and embarrassment. “Sammy, it’s not like that I-,”

Annoyed Sam cut him off, “Dude, it is exactly like that, but the funny part is I’m not even mad anymore.”

“Fine, you know I don’t want to talk about this, but you get one question and one answer and don’t get all chick flick about it either because that’s not happening.”

“Great,” Sam smirked, “What’s Y/N’s favorite color?”

Without missing a beat, Dean answered, “It’s a tie between navy blue and dark grey.”

Sam threw his head back with a laugh. Dean’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile, turning up the radio as “Ramblin’ Man” by The Allman Brothers blared through the speakers. Laying his foot on the gas pedal, a little heavier to get back to the bunker to get answers from the comatose vamp tied up in the back seat.

Dean and Sam had left Y/N’s house 2 days ago. The first 24 hours she didn’t go anywhere without her phone, that got old quickly. She began to feel like it was a leash; finally, she went about her day and left it plugged in on her nightstand. Today was Saturday, she didn’t have any clients this morning; instead, it was all the things to catch up from the week. Mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, stripping the sheets, and doing laundry.

She put her hair in a messy bun, threw on her Neil Diamond t-shirt with denim shorts, grabbed her BlueTooth headphones, linking them to her tablet, and set it outside on the deck and connected it to her playlist. Greta Van Fleet’s “Highway Tune” burst into her ears as she yanked the pulley to start the lawnmower. She chuckled to herself as she began to mow the backyard. Dean had mentioned a few times that he wanted to do it, but that was not going to happen. She had put them both out enough, and besides, it was a good exercise for her. Finishing up in a little over an hour, she put away the lawn equipment, grabbed a bottle of water from the “beer fridge” in the garage, and jumped in the Jeep. She wanted to head to two destinations, the grocery store and the gardening store to buy more plants and flowers. Working in the yard kept her hands and mind busy, and right now, that is precisely what she needed.

As she was perusing the freezer section for her favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor, she ran into her friend Jennifer. They had met just a few weeks after Y/N moved to Lincoln and they had become fast friends. After a brief hug, they agreed to meet later on that evening for drinks on Y/N’s back deck to catch up. She stopped and bought some more daisies and headed back home, looking forward to spending the evening with her friend.

After planting the flowers, she ran in the house to quickly shower and wash her hair, scrubbing off the dirt and grime of the day. Finishing up, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off when she noticed Dean’s black flannel hanging on the door hook. He’d accidentally left it behind the last time he was here. Walking over, she brushed her fingers lightly over the material and as she brought it closer to her nose, she could still smell his woodsy maleness clinging to the fabric. She rested her head against the door, thinking about how much she missed him already and realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

With a sigh, she left the bathroom walking down the hall to her bedroom, pausing she looked at her phone lying face down on the nightstand. She was torn; part of her wanted to see if Dean had called or texted, but an overwhelming part did not want to be disappointed when he didn’t. She made a deal with herself, she would get dressed and dry her hair, and THEN she would look at it. Y/N did silly bargaining things like this with herself all the time, almost like bargaining with the Gods to turn the odds in her favor. She pulled on a pair of grey shorts and a and white Garth Brooks shirt, chuckling to herself, thinking of when Dean accused her of having more band shirts than he did.

Sitting in front of her mirror with her flat paddle brush, she began drying her hair in pieces, after finishing she put on a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and colored lip balm. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the results, standing with a huff, Y/N went to check her phone. Picking it up, she expected nothing. However, she slowly lowered herself to the bed as her screen lit up, her eyes growing wider with every missed notification.

Dean 3 Missed calls

Dean: Hey, Babe, been crazy with you know what. Just wanted to hear your voice.

Dean 4 Missed calls

Sam 1 Missed call

Dean: Y/N. Is everything ok? Call me when you get this.

Dean 2 Missed calls Sam: Tink, would you PLEASE call Dean? I might kill him soon if you don’t. Jennifer 1 Missed Call Dean: ok, I’m trying to keep my shit together right now, I’m FUCKING WORRIED. I’m just telling you right now if I don’t hear back from you in 2 hours I’m driving back.

Just then, her phone lit up in her hand, Dean’s face popping up, the ring scaring her so bad she dropped the phone. She scrambled to pick it up, pushing the speaker button quickly. “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice boomed through the speaker.

“Hey Dean, I’m so sorry-” she began.

Dean cut her off, “Are you good? Jesus Fuck, I was like a crazy person down here. You’re good, right? I mean you are answering the phone, so you’re alright. Right?” She could hear a slamming car door in the background.

“Dean!” she raised her voice to get his attention, “I’m fine I just left my phone plugged in all day, and I was busy.”

“Shit, right.” She could hear him running his hand over his scruff, “I’m sorry Babe, I know, I sound like a lunatic. We just haven’t been able to get anything out of this vamp, when you didn’t answer, my mind just started going to a dark place.”

“I promise, I’m really fine,” she soothed, “I mowed the lawn and went to the grocery and bought some flowers; just busy. I even saw my friend Jennifer today. She’s coming over tonight, and we are going to sit on the deck and have a couple beers.”

“Honestly, that sounds great Y/N/N, I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you to be careful. We don’t know who sent those vamps yet, and until we do, you just need to watch your back.”

She didn’t want to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. There were only so many ways she could reassure him, she didn’t want Dean to worry about her, Y/N just living her life, maybe she was naïve. Hell, no one has worried about her since her parents’ death. It was a strange feeling.

“Dean,” she began, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

She could almost hear the sheepish shrug in his voice “I don’t know” pulling himself out of that quickly, his voice became stronger. “Could you just carry your damn phone with you?”

Dean heard the laughter through his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile, hearing her laugh warmed his insides. “Of course, I will! I do have a question for you, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Were you really going to drive back up here if I didn’t answer?” The silence on the phone went on for so long that she had to double-check to be sure they weren’t disconnected. “Dean?”

“Yeah,” came a gruff reply, “I was in the garage when I thought I would call you one more time before I left.”

“Oh Dean, I’m sorry.” Guilt niggled at her as she thought of him dropping his plans.

“Y/N, maybe I overreacted a little, but I’m so far away that, if shit went down, It would take me 2 ½ hours to get there.”

“I’m just living, Dean, but I will be careful, I swear. I don’t want you to worry about me. You have enough to worry about without adding me to it.”

Oh, Babe,” he chuckled, “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So, I thought I would come back up on Thursday night if that’s ok.”

“More than,” she replied with a soft smile, “I miss you.”

“Same,” he replied gruffly, “see you Thursday, then.”

“Bye, Dean,” she whispered. She pushed the end button and flopped back on the bed, heart pounding in her chest.

She missed him, but the idea of him coming back had her stomach in knots. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to have sex with him when he came back. She could barely keep herself in check before he left. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with anyone, what if she forgot how? She had been fine just shoving her sexual frustrations to the bottom of her priority list, life got its hooks in her, she was more interested in getting her business off the ground, fixing up her house and making a life for herself. He was the first person in recent memory who made her look twice. Now he was coming to stay with her. This time she knew that the couch was not going to cut it.

Dean’s POV

Bracing his forearms on the driver’s side window frame of Baby, he tossed the phone on her roof with a sigh. It’s taking all of his internal strength not to jump in the car right now and head back to Lincoln. In his mind, he knows that she is safe, but his chest still ached. This is why he didn’t involve himself in this type of bullshit. Sticking to the random hook up fitted his life. What the hell was he thinking, dragging her deeper into a life that she has no business being within a 1000 feet of? She is too sweet to get involved in his shit show of life. He was tossed into it the day his mother was roasted on the ceiling. Y/N deserves so much better than he could ever offer. If he had a brain cell left in his head, he would man up and text her right now to tell her to forget it, he wasn’t returning to Lincoln. He and Sam would track down whoever was after her and take care of it. Y/N could move on with her life and forget all about him and the nightmare life he leads. Exhaling loudly, Dean grabs his phone, shoving it in his pocket and pushing himself off the car, the adrenaline of his fear and anger still pumping through his veins. He knows she deserves better than a text. When he drives up on Thursday, he will tell her that it’s best for her.

Eventually, the stabbing pain in his chest will go away and if it doesn’t, maybe this is just what it would be like now that he really knows what he will be missing when he walks away.

Jennifer and Y/N embrace at the door when she arrives promptly at 7:00. It was an evening of a few too many beers and laughs. Jennifer switched to Diet Coke after two. Although she was a little more than tipsy, she was careful to keep most of the secrets when Jennifer started to question her about the black muscle car parked at her house when Y/N was MIA for a few weeks, no one knew she was hiding a bruised and swollen face.

Travis had kept his mouth shut as promised. Sam and Dean stopped in to talk to him about the “guys” who followed Y/N home and assaulted her. He wanted his bar as far away from that controversy as possible.

They ended the evening with more hugs and promises to get together again soon, Y/N made her way to her bedroom, phone in hand, drunkenly stripping off clothes all the way down the hall. Climbing under the sheets, she started to plug in her phone but changed her mind.

Dean’s phone buzzed with a text message at 1:17 a.m, he was sitting in the library nursing his third whiskey of the night. Picking up his phone, he thumbed it open to see it was a text from Y/N. As he opened the message, his mouth slowly began to gape open. Staring back at him was a selfie. Y/N was laying down, her hair fanning around her on the pillow, a sweet smile playing on her lips. He could see the curve of her breasts, turning the phone back and forth he was sure he could have seen her nipple. She was totally naked in that massive bed without him. The simple text accompanying the picture is what truly did him in.

Babe: Wish you were here

“FUCK!” he groaned loudly, closing his eyes, throwing his head back

Thursday came in a blink of an eye for both of them. Dean had texted Y/N to let him know he would be leaving around noon. It was 10:00 a.m. now, his anxiousness already kicked into high gear. Sam walked into the war room, a mug of coffee in his hand, still in his blue and black plaid pajama pants with a grey long sleeved T-Shirt. His hair pointing in every direction, bare feet smacking against the tile floor. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Dean pacing a path back and forth. He was already dressed in jeans and boots topped with a dark grey T-shirt underneath a burgundy and grey flannel. An empty coffee cup sitting on the map table along with his duffle bag.

“Dean?” he questioned.

“Yeah?” he responded, continuing to pace.

“What’s the deal? What are you doing?” He fully entered the room, placing his mug on the table studying Dean.

“I’m thinking! What are you doing? I just got shit on my mind,” he barked back, continuing to pace, stopping to look at his phone, before beginning his walk again.

“Aren’t you going to Y/N’s today?” Sam questioned, “I thought you would be happy. Instead, you’re stalking around here like an angry bear.”

Dean’s angry gaze snapped to Sam, confirming his characterization. “I’m coming back tonight.” Sam paused in the middle of sitting, standing back up, “Dude, WHAT?”

Running his hand roughly over his face, he sighed. “I got some space; after the other day, when I couldn’t reach her, it made me realize she doesn’t need to be dragged into this life. It’s too much.”

“And there it is” Sam threw his hands in the air, frustration written all over his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean growled.

“Every.Fucking.Time,” he emphasized each word pointing his finger at the older Winchester. "Whenever you find a little bit of happiness, you start sabotaging yourself, it’s always something. This life sucks, you’re too busy, it’s the apocalypse, someone or something needs you more, you just shut down and tell yourself it’s not worth the trouble.”

Dean just stared at his brother as he continued to ramble.

“Just once Dean, just one time can you put yourself first?” he gestured toward him. “Yes, I know Y/N was a case and you are pissed off that the vamp won’t talk, you’re worried that your life is going to splash on her. She is stronger than you think, you think you need to pile all of this on your shoulders, you don’t. I have never seen you, my own brother, let his guard down around someone before.”

“She’s too good Sammy, she doesn’t deserve-”

“What?” Sam questioned, gathering momentum again “She doesn’t deserve to be happy? She doesn’t deserve to have someone care about her? You-” he pointed at him once more, “are both crazy about each other. I could see it on your faces every time I was in the same room with you both. You have earned the right to be happy.”

Dean crossed his arms contemplating Sam.

“Just do me a favor, would you?” Go up there and just see her, stay the three days, like you planned, see what happens. Promise me you won’t go up there halfcocked trying to tell her, like you always do to everyone, that you know what’s best. Leave your bullshit baggage here and just go see her.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, hiking his bag on his shoulder as he picked his keys off the table, striding towards the garage, “I think you need to mind your own damn business.”

“When has that ever happened before?” Sam called after him.

As Dean began to drive to Lincoln, Y/N was running around nerves and excitement, twisting her gut. She had showered, shaved everywhere, lotioned up, fixed her hair, letting it flow down her back instead of the ponytail or messy bun look and she had applied light makeup. Looking down at her bed, almost every article of clothing she owned was spread out. Y/N picked up all of her dresses and hung them back in the closet. If she wore a dress, he would know that she was trying too hard.

“This is ridiculous!” she thought to herself as she started shoving clothes back into drawers. She settled on a pair of denim cutoff shorts and a sleeveless black and white blouse that cut in at the shoulders and tied at the back of her neck, flowing to mid-hip. Picking up the remainder of clothes strewn about, she muscled them back in her closet, slamming the door. She checked herself out in the mirror, happy with the tan legs and arms on display. Walking out into the living room, she started to feel fidgety. She had serious thoughts about going to work in the garden, but she would have to shower all over again. After wandering around the house, she checked her phone at 1:00. She had two hours left. Flopping on the couch, she flipped on the television and began channel surfing, trying to zone out.

As Dean sped up the highway to Y/N’s house, the conversation with Sam this morning was a consistent loop in his head. Actually, it was more of a Sam tirade. Dean knew what was best, right? Nip it in the bud before one of them could get hurt. She really wasn’t what he needed in his life, he told himself. Unattached works best for him. An after bar closing fling to get rid of the itch, then back to living life. No expectations, no texts, no I’ll-call-you-laters. But if that is what he wanted, then why did it make him sad and angry all at once?

Twenty minutes outside of Lincoln, he stopped for gas, seriously considering calling her to say he couldn’t make it. Sure, she might be disappointed, but she would get over it, wouldn’t she? No, he chastised himself, he would do the right thing and tell her face to face. He owed her that, at the very least. Looking at his watch, he realized that he had made a good time between leaving the bunker early so Sam would quit bitching at him and no traffic or cops on the 2 lane highway. He would be at her house at 1:30. Jumping back in Baby, he cranked the ignition “The Real Love” by Bob Seger blared through the speakers, it was a slow one, he reached down to flip the channel but paused but as the lyrics began to speak to him.

I think I’ve found The Real Love Genuine and true I think it’s really come my way today Babe I think it’s really you

I remember moments looking in your eyes Could have sworn I saw the spark of love babe Flickering inside

I’ve been around this track And the only thing I lack Is The Real Love

Placing his hand back on the wheel, his knuckles turned white as he squeezed, the pressure in his chest overwhelming him as he blinked back tears. His mind and heart screaming, “Don’t do this!!” Angrily, he threw Baby in drive, grinding his teeth together and snapping his jaw. He jammed his foot on the gas, leaving tire treads next to the pumps. The Impala fishtailing as he exited to the street heading towards Y/N house. The pain crashing through him as the verses washed over him.

Every time I see you, every time we touch I can feel the way you feel for me Babe And it means so much

And every time you look at me It’s just the way it all should be In The Real Love

Oh darlin’ darlin’ darlin’ Stay with me stay I long to see you in the morning sun Everyday Everyday

So until that moment When I take your hand I’m gonna try to do my very best Babe To prove that I’m your man

I’m gonna do my very best I’m not gonna rest Until we’ve got The Real Love

He was in agony, convincing himself it was what he deserved thinking about what he was about to do.

Hearing the deep rumble of Baby, Y/N sat up on the couch, flinging the remote on the coffee table. Her heart began thundering in her chest as she looked at the clock 1:28 p.m. “It’s too early, it can’t be him. He said 3:00” she thought. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her, almost unwilling, afraid to be disappointed that it was another car, but she knew. She would recognize the sound of his car anywhere. The screen door opened with a squeak as she stepped on the porch as Dean drove up the driveway. She shoved her hands in her front pockets to appear calm, but she could not wipe the huge grin off her face nor the heat burning her cheeks.

Dean turned off Baby and sat there for a moment, squeezing the steering wheel, flexing his jaw as he tried to get his bearings together. He knew what had to be done, he couldn’t draw it out. “Just cut to the chase, short and sweet. Get it over and done with and let her live in peace,” he told himself, until he glanced out the window and saw her on the porch.

The ice that he tried to form around his heart cracked wide as he looked at her beautiful, smiling face. Never in his life could he recall someone so thrilled to see him. She was pure sunshine that spread light through him as he looked at her. Pulling the metal handle, he got out of the car, slamming the heavy door behind him. Her hands were in her pockets, but she was so happy she was almost vibrating. As he walked towards her, all he could hear was Sam’s voice yelling in his head, “leave your bullshit baggage here! You have earned the right to be happy!”

Each step that he took melted the ice a little more, stopping in the grass, he matched her smile and opened his arms. She was off the porch running to him. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist as he locked her in his embrace. She buried her face in his neck as he nuzzled her hair, breathing her in.

“You know,” she whispered, smiling into his neck, “when I thought about today, I always imagined I would have been much cooler.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss against her temple, “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” The truth is, had she been calm, cool, and collected, Dean would not have questioned his stupidity until he was headed back to the bunker. By that time, it would have been too late, and he would have had to live with his decision no matter what the ache in his chest told him.

Setting her on her feet, bending, he pressed a firm kiss on her lips, lingering as the last bits of ice melted around his heart. He wanted to tell her what he had driven up here to do; he just couldn’t yet. What if he scared her? What if she stopped looking at him with unconditional acceptance? After everything he had shared with her, the killings, the monsters, and the Mark of Cain, she rolled with it all as if he was telling her how he changed the oil in Baby. She was interested and asked questions but never judged him. Telling her most of his secrets on the couch was never what he meant to do, but she pulled it out without even trying. What if telling her he was going to look at him differently? He couldn’t handle that, his chest hurt to even think that. What if it broke what has been so carefully built. What if it broke her? He couldn’t do that. The thought that he was actually going to come up here and tell her it was over made him feel lightheaded.

Pulling back, she took his hand in hers with a smile. “I hope you’re hungry tonight. I made steak, twice baked potato, corn on the cob and...” she drawled, wiggling her eyebrows, “pecan pie.”

“Wow,” he chuckled “you didn’t have to do all of that.”

She lifted one shoulder, slightly embarrassed, “I wanted to.”

Squeezing her hand, he murmured, “thank you.”

Smiling bright at him, she opened the screen door, Y/N entering and pulling Dean with her. The house smelled like pie. He didn’t realize how much he missed being with her in her space until he walked in the door. The smell, the feeling of hominess solidified his decision to listen to Sam’s advice. Maybe his little brother knew something, after all.

Dean grabbed two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, walking out on the back deck. Just being close to her, he could feel a weight lifting off him as he comfortably settled back into their little routine. He would always twist off the bottle top for her and hand her the beer. Even if she brought the beers out, she gave them both to him. When both bottles were open, they would clink the bottlenecks together before their first drink. It was the little things like this that made him ridiculously happy.

Sitting on the deck, they shared different things from the week, there were no awkward moments or pause in the conversation. It just flowed as it did on the couch. Dean tried to keep it light, telling funny stories about Sam as Y/N’s laughter rang out, filling him with a warmth he never knew he needed., She would reach out and touch him, brushing her fingers against his knee or grasping his arm when she was making a point. He looked forward to each touch, desire shuttering through him every time. As the afternoon slid into the evening, Dean would graze her upper arm with a smile, just to see her shiver. He felt powerful that it was his touch doing that to her.

Time flew by as the cold beers went down smoothly. Soon it was time to light the grill and cook up the steaks as she put together the side dishes. They decided to eat at the pub table on the deck, lighting the lanterns as the sun began to set and soft music played through the hidden speakers. Y/N watched Dean eat dinner as she moved the food around her plate. She watched him as they talked through dinner, either he wasn’t nervous or could chew through anything. She was hungry but only took a few bites here and there. The later it got, she began to get keyed up. She felt like she knew how the evening would end; however, her insecurities made her start to question everything. After dinner, they loaded the dishwasher and made coffee for both of them. It was very domestic, like all the pieces were snapping into place. Dean sat down his mug as the crisp sound of an acoustic guitar wafted through the sound system. “Give Me One Reason” by Tracy Chapman. The notes carried into the darkness as the deck was illuminated by the hanging lanterns.

Reaching out his hand he beckoned to Y/N, “dance with me.”

With a shy smile, she accepted his hand as he led her to the middle of the deck and took her in his arms. Her heart began to double-time in her chest as she looked into Dean’s eyes and saw the heat reflected back down on her. He pulled her close as they moved through the song and she could not help but to be struck by the lyrics.

Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Said I don't want leave you lonely You got to make me change my mind

Ducking his head to brush his lips to hers, the sizzle that has built between them all night, ignites. He wants this woman more than he has ever wanted anyone in his life. In a rush of uncontrollable desire, Dean cups Y/N’s face and pulls her to him, crashing his lips greedily to hers. The first touch of his mouth on hers and she threw her arms around him, pressing her body against his. The intense desire exploded between them; the compelling need to claim her, lick her, have her, drove him to the brink of insanity. He opened her lips with his, his tongue sliding into her mouth, bringing out a throaty moan that almost pushed him over the edge. He glided his hand down her back, cupping one of her round cheeks with his palm as he roughly pulled her against his erection; she gasped with pleasure as she began to grind herself onto him, her own arousal dictating her actions.

Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around him as he walked them into the house, down the hall into the bedroom, their mouths only moving apart to gasp for air before devouring each other once more. The dance of their tongues did nothing to quench her thirst for him since they had initially started, and she found herself rubbing against him in an attempt to ease her aching core. Setting her down on her feet in front of the bed, she looked up to see Dean’s eyes had changed to a dark smoldering green; the lust reflected back to her, making her tremble with yearning.

“I need you so much,” he rasped.

“God, me too,” she whimpered.

A smile spread across his face as he hooked his index finger along the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down her tan legs to her ankles. On his knees in front of her, he placed a soft kiss on her belly button, his tongue flicking her hoop piercing.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs as her skin erupts in goosebumps, a shiver of excitement moving up her spine as she runs her hands through his soft brown hair.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, he pulled her to the edge, his mouth mere inches from her slick heat. Moving his face slightly, he brushed the inside of her thigh with his scruff, pulling a moan from her lips. She could feel his warm breath against her clit and began to squirm.

“Please Dean,” she begged. He lay his muscled forearm across her hips, pinning her to the bed.

“Shh,” he whispered as his eyes met hers, his intense look scorching her skin. “I want to look at you, I’ve done nothing but think about you like this for weeks, just want to enjoy the view for a moment.”

She let her head fall back on the mattress, laying her arm across her closed eyes, her body buzzing as it pleaded for relief. Every second that ticked by, the intensity coiled in her belly, convincing her that she will burst into flames any second. She jerked as she felt his flattened tongue lick upwards along her damp slit, teasing her. His lips stopped at her clit, humming in satisfaction.

“Jesus, Dean,” she moaned, grasping the sheets on either side of her, “I can’t do this, it’s too much,” she cried with frustration.

Chucking, he licked her again before swirling his tongue around her sweet spot. A sound ripped from her throat that was a mix between a whine and a curse. “That’s it, Y/N,” he growls against herm “let go, I want to feel you cum.”

“No, I want to feel you inside me.” Her arms stretched to reach him, but he leaned back, just out of reach.

“You will,” he promises “but I need this first.” His tongue delved into her wet sweetness as he buried two fingers inside her, coaxing her to climax. She felt the white-hot heat building inside her as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking one last time, hurdling her over the edge while crying out his name. Dean was relentless, lapping up everything Y/N had given him before he glanced up at her writhing form, his chin glistening in the dim light. It was a sight that made Y/N swallow hard, the man between her legs had given her an orgasm in less than a few minutes so her mind was reeling with else he had in store for her.

“I need you, Dean.” Those four words that bled from her lips sent Dean into a frenzy.

In haste, he removed his boots, socks, jeans, and boxers before he climbed up the mattress, pulling Y/N along with him. Situated in the middle of the bed, he settled between her legs, his hard length nudging at her. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he brushed his lips over hers as she moved her hands to entwine her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. Her legs then wrapped around his waist, urging him to enter her but he held back, his body taut with the effort.

“Protection?” he asks softly. “IUD,” she answered breathlessly, desperate for him to fill her. “Oh god.””

“It’s Dean” he husked playfully, his voice deep and gruff.

Kissing down her neck; cupping her breast in his hand, he rolled her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a hiss of pleasure rushing from her lips as he took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bud before nipping it gently with his teeth. He moved to the other breast giving it equal treatment. Steadily he slowly made his way back up her body, peppering her skin with kisses as he reached her mouth, claiming her lips again in a searing kiss as he lined himself up. He slowly pushes his impressive shaft inside of her as her body stretches around his girth, tightly squeezing and slowly accommodating him.

“Y/N,” he breathes between clenched teeth, “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you feel so damn good.”

She murmured her approval as her hands wrapped around him, her fingers digging into his rippling back muscles with each thrust. She had fantasized about this so often, but the reality eclipses anything her imagination had come up with. His mouth moved down her exposed neck as her hands blindly explored his body. Their dual moans mingled in the bedroom as their sweat-slicked bodies met. She gripped his shoulders as they both barreled towards release.

“Babe, I’m so close,” he grits out, his rhythm stuttering. She plants her feet on the bed, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Dean!” she cries as another orgasm rips through her body. She comes undone, her insides clench and twist around him as she digs her fingers into his back as he feels her flutter around him. Groaning her name, he buries himself deep inside her, allowing euphoria to wash over him as he coated the inside of her walls.

Breathless, he nearly collapsed on top of her but managed to hold himself up on shaky arms as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair with a smile. He leaned down to place a sweet kiss on her mouth before laying on his back next to her as they both tried to catch their breath. Turning his head, he saw her blissed-out face staring back at him with a sleepy smile playing on her lips. He gathered her still shaking body to him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his hard chest with a satisfied sigh. She snuggled into him as he reached down to pull the sheet over them both falling into an exhausted sleep. He was so glad he didn’t listen to his own thoughts and allowed himself to enjoy being with her. The woman that had turned his life upside down.

Chapter 8

Tags: @winchest09 @katehuntington @whatareyousearchingfordean @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @deanwanddamons @janicho88 @talesmaniac89 @anathewierdo @compresshischest09 @supernatural-bellawinchester @jensengirl83 @this-is-what-im-reduced-to @ellewritesfix05 @moron225 @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @unicornqu33n17 @swinchester27@ @deans-baby-momma @squirrelnotsam @clumsy-nerd104 @sarahbaker2010 @supernatural-love14 @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @angelhearts1012 @nothinbuttrouble2 @cookiechipdough @lady-pswrld @peachyafshawn @notan-applepielife

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Toffee: Chapter 4

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, Gordon, John, Grandma, Tracy Family

It’s 5am and I just remembered I promised a fic update last weekend that never happened, so it’s happening this weekend instead. Whoops. So here we have the next instalment of this #irrelief fic for @gumnut-logic‘s prompt “toffee on the couch”.

The tale of woe continues for Scott, because this is far from over and the Gordon&John&Grandma tag team is brutal. What did he ever do to deserve all this? Oh yeah, drop some toffee on the couch. Whoops.

<<<Chapter 3

It was the second night in a row that Gordon had gone to bed early. Begging off from Grandma’s dinners was hardly unusual – Scott himself was guilty of that, as were all of his brothers – but getting himself sent to bed when the sun had yet to touch the ocean was something Gordon usually evaded. Despite Grandma’s assurances that he would be fine after a good night’s sleep, Scott was disturbed enough by the uncharacteristic behaviour to check in on his younger brother.

When Gordon did uncharacteristic things, that meant one of two things: he was ill, or a prank was brewing. Scott didn’t particularly care for either of those, especially for as long as he was on laundry duty and the fallout of a prank would get added to his workload.

“Gordon?” he called, knocking on the aquanaut’s door. A muffled groan was his response, and he took that to mean ‘come in’, despite the fact his younger brother probably meant something more along the lines of ‘go away’. The door opened easily and he stepped inside to find his brother bundled up under his blanket. He was lying on his side, curled around his stomach, and Scott crossed the room in several, quick, strides to crouch down beside him.

“You shouldn’t lay like that,” he reminded him, touching Gordon’s shoulder gently. Amber eyes opened and regarded him balefully.

“I’ll lay however I want,” the younger Tracy grumbled. “What did she even do to dinner today?” Scott supressed his own feelings of nausea at the recollection and offered him a commiserating smile.

“I have no idea,” he admitted. “But stomach ache or not, you’ll make your back worse if you sleep like that.”

Gordon let out a groan of protest, but Scott would not be deterred, gently poking and prodding him until he unfurled from his foetal position and straightened his spine.

“You’ll thank me when you get up,” he reminded him, and Gordon let out disgruntled mutterings that consisted of a flippant yeah, yeah, and something that sounded suspiciously like smother hen. Scott shook his head fondly, before lightly mussing blond hair. It was crisp from too much chlorine, as per usual. Not quite so usual for Gordon not to wash it out before bed, though. “And don’t forget to wash your hair in the morning.” He got another round of yeah, yeahs and smother hen, and chuckled. “Sleep well.”

A simple case of stomach upset didn’t require a constant vigil – it had, once upon a time, but then Grandma had become head chef and minor stomach aches became commonplace. None of his brothers permitted him to fuss over that, so long as it remained minor, and with the frequency Scott would never have time for anything else if he did. Therefore, it was with a fond smile and barely any reluctance that Scott left Gordon to his misery. If he was still bad in the morning, then Scott would worry; Grandma’s cooking rarely left anyone incapacitated for long – a small mercy.

Seeing Gordon all snuggled up in bed put him in longing mind for his own. What with the washing machine packing in, all the handwashing required, and the mudslide rescue – with more handwashing required afterwards – Scott was quite tempted to give up on the day and hide under his own covers until morning. Unfortunately, duty called and he reluctantly traipsed back down to the desk to face the paperwork. John might have done the rescue report, saving him one hell of a battle to recall everything that had happened in that mud-covered nightmare, but Tracy Industries had their own paperwork to be completed.

With the chair cover still hanging up to dry, the desk was an unattractive place to sit, however, and Scott allowed himself the small vice of picking up the laptop and collapsing into Alan’s pilot seat to get the work done. Loading up the metaphorical pile, Scott was pleasantly surprised to find there was less there than he remembered. Oh, that approval should still have been sent out the previous day – and that one, too – but there was less outstanding work to do than he’d thought.

He might actually get to sleep in his poor, neglected bed tonight. That was a motivating thought, and he tackled the first in the stack with vigour, startling Alan who entered the room with his virtual headset.

“Uhh… Scott?”

He waved him over.

“Go ahead; I don’t have much work to do.”

Alan’s look of uncertainty morphed into one of glee, and he air punched. “Hell yeah! Cavern Quest Final Chamber here I come! Again.”

Scott chuckled at his enthusiasm, fondly remembering when he had the free time to play video games as a teenager. It was always good to see that being a part of International Rescue hadn’t stifled that freedom for Alan. Unfortunately, his freedom for that sort of thing was long gone, and wouldn’t come back as long as he had a backlog of paperwork to do, so with a final fond look at his brother swinging an imaginary weapon and declaring challenges to Blagworts – whatever those were – he returned to the laptop and work.

Despite being less than he thought, it still took him the better part of three hours to clear all the ones he was supposed to have returned by then; he glowered at one merrily telling him it was due in 8 hours – stupid timezones – before dismissing it for later. The moon was high in the sky, the villa taking on the reddish hue it often did in the late evening. Alan had retreated to his bedroom at some point, maybe an hour ago although Scott hadn’t checked the time, and it was with great delight that Scott realised it was before midnight.

He could make a start on that next group of paperwork and maybe even get some of it done on time – a momentous occasion that would probably give the secretary and board of directors a heart attack – or he could go to bed.

Memories of Gordon comfortably snuggled under a blanket several hours earlier won. He’d save his employees the heart attack and get some sleep. Barring paperwork taking less time than usual, the day had been pretty awful and actually getting to relax in his sorely neglected bed sounded nothing short of heavenly.

He sent a suspicious eye to John’s portrait, half-expecting a midnight emergency (midnight here, probably a perfectly respectable mid-afternoon in the danger zone), but his brother didn’t appear and he unceremoniously shoved the laptop back in the desk before dimming the lights and making a beeline for his room.

It was, predictably, just as he’d left it. He toyed with the idea of a shower before bed, but decided against it. A shower was likely to wake him up, and that was the last thing he needed right then. He made do with kicking off his shoes and tucking them in their little corner of the room before vanishing into the bathroom to perform the required evening ablutions and shrugging on some sleepwear.

From there, it was a perfectly simple matter to send a sleepy call to John letting him know he was turning in for the night, worm his way under the blanket, and let the sandman visit.

A shrill ringing jerked him awake, and with a groan he rolled over to swipe at the alarm clock controls on his bedside table, only to freeze. All noisy alarms were immediately forgotten at the sensation of something sticky against his leg, and with a hopeless prayer that it was not what he thought it was, a tentative peeling back of the blankets revealed melted toffee gluing him to his bedsheet.

How the hell had that got there?

A pounding on his door jerked him back to the present.

“Shut that thing up before it wakes the bear!” Clearly Gordon was recovered from last night’s dinner and back to his usual habits, as Scott had thought he would be. “Scott!”

With a groan he reached out for the controls once again and swiped the off command. The shrill ringing was replaced by a phantom one in his ears and he shook his head to clear it before regarding the brown mess on his leg and sheet with something that might have resembled despair, although he’d deny it if anyone came in and saw it. Certainly the moisture in his eyes was typical morning yawn-induced liquid and nothing to do with tears of frustration.

More laundry, and he hated bed linen anyway. With his promise to Virgil about no more toffee in the washing machine, he was also going to have to wash it by hand until all traces of toffee were gone before he could bundle it in the machine to finish the job. There went any free time that morning.

The toffee on his leg was at least easier to deal with, and he was glad he hadn’t taken an evening shower as he threw himself under the warm water with vigour, scrubbing at the sticky patch on his leg forcefully and wincing as a few hairs parted company when the sticky stuff peeled away. Cleaning himself, however, was the easy bit. Somehow he had to get his sheet down to the laundry room without getting collared by anyone else.

There was a morning growth of stubble on his face but he ignored it for the moment, throwing on his clothes and stripping the sheet from his bed. Once the fabric was bundled up into a ball – toffee-smeared section carefully away from the rest of the fabric so it didn’t spread – it was the not so simple case of getting to the laundry room.

He was well aware what taking bed linen down to the laundry room first thing in the morning looked like.

The first hallway was cleared, Gordon splashing away down in the pool below and Grandma making threatening noises in the kitchen. Neither of his other brothers had left their rooms, and barring an emergency call, wouldn’t for some time. As long as John didn’t pick the wrong moment to check in, he’d be fine.

“Oh, m-morning, Scott!”

He’d forgotten about Brains. How had he forgotten about Brains? Behind the engineer, MAX watched him curiously for a moment before letting out a sound far too reminiscent of a wolf whistle for Scott’s liking.

“Uh, morning, Brains,” he greeted, hoping his cheeks weren’t flushing as the older man took in the sight of the bundled up sheet with a raised eyebrow. “Toffee, again,” he admitted, hoping the engineer was removed enough from usual social conventions to not start drawing the same assumptions his brothers would.

“O-oh, I see. C-carry on, then.” With a little wave, Brains continued towards the den – why was he heading there, why was he out of his lab? Scott returned the wave and continued his advance to the laundry room, only to be caught up short as he overheard Brains mutter “I-is that what they’re c-calling it n-now, MAX?”

Determined not to flush, Scott barrelled through the laundry room door and shut it behind him firmly.

“Everything alright there, Scott?”

John was floating in front of him, arms crossed and one eyebrow lifted in amusement as he glanced at the fabric in Scott’s arms. Scott groaned.

“This is not what it looks like,” he protested, and John smirked.

“Clearly, because it looks like melted toffee but you wouldn’t be bright red if it was really toffee, would you?”

The bundled sheet sailed through the hologram as Scott hurled it at his infuriating, know-it-all younger brother’s projection.

“Shut up, John,” he muttered, retrieving the fabric and dumping it in the sink. “I’m not bright red.”

“Hmm, must be a problem with the colour filters on the hologram, then,” John mused. “Because you look it to me.”

“Then go fix your holoprojector and leave me in peace,” Scott snapped.

“F.A.B.” And he was gone, leaving Scott with a sticky sheet and a sinking feeling that today was also not going to be a good day.

With a sigh he scrubbed at the toffee, determined to get the sheet de-toffee’d so he could put it in the machine before the rest of his brothers found out. Or Grandma, who might at least not jump to immature conclusions but would give him another tongue-lashing about leaving toffee lying around.

An hour later, Gordon was wolfing down something Scott suspected Grandma didn’t know about for breakfast – it looked suspiciously celery-crunch-bar-green – as he entered the kitchen, laptop in hand. That paperwork with a time limit of eight hours to go before he went to bed was now due, and he should probably get it done while he had some downtime.

“No work at the breakfast table,” Grandma scolded, appearing from nowhere and shutting the device before Scott could properly register what it said. “And Gordon, snacks are not breakfast. Have a pancake.”

Scott didn’t hear Gordon’s response, too busy staring at his now closed laptop.

The paperwork due this morning hadn’t been there.

tbc...

#irrelief #irrelief2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #grandma tracy #john tracy #alan tracy #brains #max #toffee

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

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Fic: The Proposal (Keanu x Reader)

Summary: Follow up for Always the Quiet Ones. After a month away, Mr. Reeves is back and he has a proposal for you. Part 1 - Always the Quiet Ones | Part 3 - Dark Paradise| Part 4 - Without You

Author’s Notes: I just got attacked by a plot bunny and this happened. I will continue to visit this universe because I totally love the possibilities here. If you have ideas or suggestions, my ask box are always open. And as always, feedback is appreciated.

Wordcount: 5985

Warnings: Smut (dirt talk; bad language; d/s vibes; unprotected sex)

Your shift had wrapped up a few minutes ago and after hours on your feet, you were taking a few moments to rest before heading home. Trying to avoid rush hour and a packed train, you were hanging out in the breakroom with Sean, one of the bellboys.

The breakroom was the place of rest for all the employees, from the secretaries in the administrative offices, to the front desk girls, the housekeepers and bellboys. It used to be a dark, depressing place when you first started 3 years ago, with concrete walls and poor lighting, but everyone pitched in to turn it into a comfortable room.

Now with painted walls, nice couch, and armchairs; a dining table and even an old expresso machine the restaurant threw out and one of the guys from the laundry room fixed, it felt like your second home. How sad was that?

You moved to town for college with big hopes and dreams to become a lawyer and help out your family, but to make those come true you had to face long work hours at the hotel, fitted between your classes. Whatever free time you had was spent studying and finishing college assignments.

You didn’t even know what a social life looked like at this point, but that was ok. You were almost done with college and if you kept your grades up – which you have been doing – you had great potential to get an internship at Pearson & Hardman and then your life would change, you just knew it.

“Earth to Y/N,” Sean called, making your attention snap back at him. “Did you hear a word I’ve said?”

You hadn’t, lost in your own thoughts. He had been telling you about his quarterback days before he blew his knee and had to give up a career in sports and take this job to help his family. Sean liked to reminiscence his glory days and you didn’t mind listening, but sometimes you didn’t really pay attention.

Not like some of the others. They would hang to every word. Mostly because Sean was handsome and funny, and everyone seemed to have a crush on him. However, according to Maggie, he only had eyes for you.

If you had known about that a month ago, you would be more excited by the prospect. You liked Sean. He was a great guy. Always took the time to walk you to the train station whenever you finished your shift late, like a perfect gentleman. Definitely boyfriend material.

He wasn’t, however, the one that filled your dreams; made you wake up gasping and wet, in desperate need for release. He wasn’t the name you hoped to see crossing your cellphone screen every time your phone rang or the face you searched in the lobby whenever you walked in for work.

“Sorry, I didn’t.” Your smile was sheepish and apologetic.

“That’s ok. I think I’ve told this one before,” he said with a shrug, his blonde hair falling over his eyes. “So, I was thinking, since we’ve both done for the day, maybe we could…”

He trailed off when Maggie walked in, her blue eyes wide and excited as she looked your way, small hands compulsively straightening her receptionist uniform.

“A guest just requested housekeeping in his suite,” she announced, her eyes darting at Sean, before looking back at you as if trying to convey some secret message that went over your head. “He asked for you specifically.”

“So? She clocked out,” Sean was the one to reply. “Send someone else.”

“I can’t.” Maggie’s eyes seemed to plead with you, but you could only stare at her in confusion. “He’s in the presidential suite.”

“Mags, she’s not going,” Sean insisted, his voice turning annoyed. “Doesn’t matter how VIP this guy is.”

“It’s Mr. Reeves!” Maggie blurted out, panicked and you couldn’t contain your small but sharp intake of breath. She was the only one who knew. No wonder she was so nervous.

“Again…” Sean began. “She’s not…”

“No, I’ll do it,” you cut him off, getting to your feet. “I know he’s very… particular about his bedsheets.”

It was a weak excuse, you knew, but you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to see him again. Even if you didn’t hear from him for a month. Even if you didn’t even know if he wanted to see you too. For all, you knew he really just wanted you to change his sheets.

Heart hammering in your chest, you made your way to the top floor where the presidential suite was. Your feet were heavy like lead; anticipation and dread mixed in your belly as you approached his door, holding the vacuum-sealed package with the new set of bedsheets. You rasped your knuckles on the polished wood, announcing yourself.

It wasn’t Mr. Reeves that opened the door, but a gorgeous redhead, tall and with a model’s body, her makeup and hair perfect and part of you wanted to reach over to check your hair, which had been in a ponytail the entire day.

She stepped aside so you could walk in and at first glance, you saw no sight of Mr. Reeves and wondered if maybe Maggie got it wrong, but when you walked into the bedroom, you could see his broad back fitted in a perfectly tailored grey suit as he spoke on the phone at the balcony.

“Considering how expensive this place is, you’d think they would keep their sheets clean,” the woman spoke, shaking you from your staring and bringing you back to work.

You quickly stripped the bed from the old sheets which were in perfect condition and started the slow task of redressing the bed under the watchful gaze of the woman and you fought the urge to squirm.

Who was she? A girlfriend? Wife? Lover? You had researched extensively about Mr. Reeves and for all accounts, he was single and one of the most eligible bachelors out there. Maybe it was so new the gossip sites didn’t get word of it yet.

You knew the second Mr. Reeves walked back into the room because the scent of his aftershave preceded him, and the piercing gaze of the redhead moved away from you.

“Keanu, darling, should we head for dinner? I heard they have an excellent duck here,” she said, her tone so pretentious it grated on your nerves.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Cheryl, but I’m exhausted. I’ll just gonna order room service and catch some sleep. It was a long flight.”

And how was it possible that just the sound of his voice was enough to send a thrill of arousal through you? Your entire body was suddenly tense with expectation, waiting for the undeniable pleasure his voice promised.

“Of course,” Cheryl said, sounding disappointed. “See you tomorrow then, handsome.”

You glanced over in time to see her lean for a kiss. Mr. Reeves turned his head just in time and her lips landed on his cheek instead. Cheryl looked upset but had no time to protest because he closed the door in her face. You let out a small snort, attracting Mr. Reeves’ attention.

“You didn’t actually have to change the sheets,” he said, walking closer to you, one hand loosening his tie. “It was just an excuse.”

You stood there, holding one of the pillows halfway into the new pillowcase, watching him. You thought he looked like sin in jeans and a t-shirt, but in a suit like this, he was just perfect. It was dark grey, the shirt a shade lighter, the tie black. His hair was combed back, a bit longer than the last time you saw it, and his beard trimmed and neat.

“You like whiskey?” he asked on his way to the bar, shrugging off his blazer and throwing carelessly on the couch.

“Not really,” you replied, leaving the pillow on the bed and walking into the sitting room. He had already measured the amber drink in two glasses, offering one to you.

“You’ll like this one,” Mr. Reeves said with a smile and you took the glass because you didn’t really know what else to do. “Maggie in the reception said you were off duty.”

“I clocked out half-hour ago,” you said, sipping the drink and wincing as it burned down your throat. It tasted like oak flavored cough medicine, so you set the glass aside under his amused gaze.

“Good. You can have dinner with me,” Mr. Reeves announced, taking a seat at one of the armchairs and you fought the urge to glance down his lap, at the prominent bulge you knew it was there.

“Won’t your girlfriend mind?”

“Cheryl? She’s a business partner, nothing more,” he said, sipping his drink.

“Does she know that?” the words slipped from your lips before you could contain yourself and Mr. Reeves snorted, his eyes crinkling with amusement and your heart leaped at the sight.

“Is that jealousy I’m hearing, sweetheart?” he asked, offering you a hand.

Your rational side was telling you to stay away. That he was just using you. The stupid, hopeless side of you took his hand, letting him guide you onto his lap and cup your cheek. His rough thumb traced your lips and you parted them, allowing Mr. Reeves to push it inside. You even swirled your tongue around it, sucking slightly and his gaze darkened, his erection pressing against his zipper and your center.

“I’ve been thinking about this the whole day,” he said, his voice lower, throatier. His hand coming up to your back, finding the zipper of your uniform. That was what gave you pause, made you let go of his thumb and get up from his lap. “Something’s wrong?”

“I’m a housekeeper, Mr. Reeves,” you declared, voice surprisingly strong considering your nerves were wrecked. “Not a…”

“I never said you were,” he interrupted, a confused frown marring his handsome features and you snorted, arms crossed over your chest.

“No, you just fucked me senseless, then disappeared for a month and came back like nothing happened, ready to fuck me again.”

There was a biting tone to your words, you knew, but it was warranted. You had your pride at the very least and no matter how amazing the sex had been and how you hadn’t been able to push him out of your mind, you weren’t just getting back in his bed without knowing what this was.

“You’re right.” His words startled you a little. You were expecting him to argue or even kick you out. You didn’t expect him to agree with you. “I should’ve called. I just get into my head when I’m working a deal and…” Mr. Reeves looked up at you, his brown eyes big and soft, like a chided boy. “I know that’s a crappy excuse, but it’s the only one I have.”

He patted the couch next to his chair and after a moment of hesitation, you took a seat begrudgingly.

“I should’ve made myself clear last time. I apologize for that,” Mr. Reeves said. “The truth is, I’ve been watching you for a while.” You raised your eyebrows at his words, and he grimaced. “That sounded weird, I’m sorry. What I mean is, I’ve noticed you. Before last time.”

“I know.” You noticed him too. Several times since he started staying in the hotel. Whenever you two were in the same room together and you glanced his way, he seemed to be watching you, but it was only last month that you actually talked to him. “Why?”

“You really don’t know?” he asked with an amused smile, eyes traveling over you. “It’s not just a physical thing. I can tell you’re smart, hardworking, kind and attentive… I like you.” Mr. Reeves declared, his gaze piercing. “And when I see something I like, I take it.”

“I’m not a thing,” you pointed out, lips pressed together in displeasure. He had sounded so nice at first.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he amended. “I just want you, but I don’t really have time for relationships, so I hope we can reach an agreement.”

“An agreement?” you repeated in confusion.

Mr. Reeves stood up and moved to the table where a briefcase rested. He took out a manilla folder and hand it to you, giving you an encouraging nod until you opened it. You gasped as your entire life was displayed in front of you on paper.

The fact that your dad left when you were ten, abandoning you, your mom and your younger brother. How your mom had to take a loan so she could pay off your father’s debts, leaving your family and a horrible financial situation. Your own student loans and other financial issues; a copy of your paycheck and a bank statement that showed you only had a hundred dollars in your account. All the complaints you filed with your housing counselor about how loud your roommate was.

“Wha… ho…?” you couldn’t form words, too shocked to speak.

“I can make all those problems go away,” Mr. Reeves said, taking his seat again. “I can get you a proper apartment, all expenses paid and even an allowance if you want to quit this job to focus on your studies or get an internship in a law firm. I can even get you some referrals, but with your GPA, I don’t think you’ll need them.”

“Why?” It was all you could manage, your mind a turmoil of thoughts.

“I told you,” he started, swallowing his whiskey, one hand resting on your knee. “I take what I want, and I want you. I tried fucking other people to feel the same thing I did with you, but I was right. You might have ruined for others, sweetheart.”

Mr. Reeves cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek, but his touch which before seemed so inviting, made you pull back, stand up and pace.

“And what would be expected of me? If I accept this?” You asked, words coming out a lot more bitter than you intended.

“Your company and exclusivity,” he replied easily. “You’ll have the same from me, of course.”

“And when you say my company, you mean…”

“Your company,” Mr. Reeves interrupted, sounding a little impatient. “If I wanted a hooker, I’d pay for one. I just…” he let out a long sigh. “The time I spent with you? It was the first time I had fun in a good while. It wasn’t just the sex, it was everything. I want that on a regular basis. Especially since I’ll be coming over more often with the new brand of Arch about to open here.”

“I had fun too,” you admitted. “You don’t have to… you could just take me out for dinner and date me.”

“I want to take care of you,” Mr. Reeves said, tone soft as he stood up, coming to stand in front of you. Once again cupping your jaw, but this you let him. “Is that so bad?”

“I guess not,” you breathed out shakily as he guided you closer for a kiss.

“So, you’ll do it?” he asked, inches away from your lips. Close enough that you could smell the whiskey in his breath.

“Can I think about it?” you asked, and he nodded, his eyes searching for your consent. You nodded too and Mr. Reeves finally kissed you; chasing away all thoughts of the proposal he just made you.

---

You’ve been staring at your computer for the last twenty minutes. You were supposed to start an essay, but you were thinking about Mr. Reeves and his proposal instead, wondering what to do.

Your first impulse was to say no. Pride and indignation rearing their heads. You were broke, but you had some self-respect. You weren’t interested in selling yourself like that. Be his… kept woman?

Then again, it would be nice if your mom didn’t have to worry about the loan anymore. She could start saving money for your brother. A college fund so Jason won’t have to struggle like you.

It would also be nice not to have your own student loans any longer. To know that once you graduate you won’t have to slave yourself to pay back every cent. And having a place for yourself? Not having to share with a loud, insufferable bitch like your roommate or deal with the hallway parties and neighbors being noisy…

There was this apartment building close to campus, two bedrooms, one bath that you always daydreamed about whenever you walked by. In your mental picture, you’d turn one of the rooms into an office, with ceiling to floor shelves and a window bench, because you’ve always wanted one. A pullout couch so your mom and Jason could come to visit you and a fully equipped kitchen because your mom loved to cook…

Were you really considering this? Committing to a man you knew barely so you could have nice things? You were really that desperate? Well, no, but who didn’t want comfort? Who didn’t deserve to go to bed every night and not worry about money? About the roof over their heads? Over their families’ heads? And if you played your cards right, you could make sure to get everything you wanted and needed out of this arrangement.

Getting to your feet, you grabbed a few reference books and everything else you needed to know to make a viable contract and sat back in front of your computer, ready to work. After three hours, you stepped out of the library, laptop on your backpack and a copy of the contract you drafted inside a manilla envelop as you headed for the hotel.

It was your day off and you weren’t really planning on going anywhere near your place of employment, but if you were going to do this, you wanted to talk to Mr. Reeves as soon as possible.

You made a beeline for the reception desk where Maggie was talking to a guest. Her expression shifted into confusion when she saw you there, but realization quickly drew on it as well as an excited smile. She thought you and Mr. Reeves made a cute couple and said the whole thing sounded like a fairytale. She was so naïve it hurt.

“Is...” you trailed off, giving her a meaningful look, ignoring the curious look the other receptionist gave you.

“Yeah. I’ll make sure they know you’re on your way up.” Maggie winked at you, already grabbing the phone as you moved towards the elevators, your heart once again hammering against your chest, your palms sweaty.

The sound of your name as you waited for the elevator made you jolt, turning around to look at Sean coming over to you with a confused smile.

“I thought it was your day off,” he said.

“It is. I just…” you looked down at your hands, at the envelope and back at him. “Have some business to take care of.”

Right then, the elevator’s door parted, revealing Mr. Reeves in workout clothes, towel hanging from his shoulder, water bottle in one hand. His eyes landed at you, his lips pulling into a smile as he rested his free hand on doors to keep them open.

“Is that for me?” he asked, gaze dropping to the envelope before meeting your eyes again. You swallowed the lump of anxiety in your throat and nodded. “Well, let’s go then.”

You glanced back at Sean, at the understanding in his eyes, that quickly shifted into disappointment as he gave you a quick nod and walked away, leaving you to follow Mr. Reeves into the elevator.

As the doors slid closed, you could feel your entire body trembling with nervousness; you could barely draw breath like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the cart and you were painfully aware of Mr. Reeves' presence behind you.

He led the way to his suite, holding the door open as you stepped inside first.

“May I have some whiskey?” you asked as soon as the door was closed.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” he pointed out, setting his things aside as he made the way to the bar and poured you the drink.

“I don’t. I just need something to…” you paused, thinking about how to phrase it. Settle your nerves? Give you some courage?

He set the drink aside and walked towards you, helping you to shrug off your backpack and coat, setting it on the table along with the contract, before he turned back to you, his presence strong and strangely reassuring as he looked into your eyes.

“Whatever you decide, I will not judge you,” Mr. Reeves declared, resting his forehead against yours.

“But you won’t have me either?” you asked, hand coming up to his jaw, running over his beard.

“When you’re the owner of a multimillion company, people can try to take advantage of you,” he sighed. “I don’t mean you, just to be clear. This way, I get to take care of you and get what I need out of this, without risking my company.” He kissed your forehead and each eyelid, and you sighed too, your body instinctively relaxing in his embrace. “Tell me your terms.”

“I brought a contract,” you whispered, arching your neck to give him room to work as his lips moved down, kissing first your cheeks, then your chin and finally the hollow of your throat.

“I hate reading contracts,” he mumbled against your skin, his warm breath tickling you. “Just tell me.”

“Ok.” You struggled to focus and think back at the document you spent most of your afternoon working on. “The apartment. I want to pick it and when this is over…”

“If,” Mr. Reeves corrected, one eyebrow arched at you. “I don’t want us to start anything already thinking about the end.”

“If this is over,” you reworded with a nod. “I get to keep it. I want it in my name.” he only hummed in response, his fingers making quick work of the buttons of your shirt, pushing it down your arms. “And to ensure your investment, I’ll stay for at least a year, but after that, I can call it quits whenever I like.”

“No,” Mr. Reeves said, pulling back.

“No?”

“No,” he repeated, looking at you. “I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. You break things off at any moment. No need for that one-year clause.”

“And what makes you so sure I won’t just wait until you give me the apartment and end things?”

“I guess I’ll just have to trust you,” Mr. Reeves declared with a lopsided smirk, before catching one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking lightly through the fabric of your bra, making you gasp and grab his hair. “and in my ability to keep you entertained.”

You nodded, your head suddenly foggy and sluggish, too focused on the bolts of pleasure running through you to actually remember what you were doing.

“Sweetheart?” he called, looking up at you with that same smirk. “Your terms?”

“Right!” you shook your head, trying to clear it as you took a step back from him and he actually pouted in displeasure, but if you let him continue, you weren’t going to remember your name, let along your contract. “I don’t want an allowance. I can work.”

“Whatever you want,” he nodded taking his seat on the same armchair from last night and even though you knew it was probably a bad idea, you sat on his lap at his invitation. “I just thought you might like some more time to study, even find some internship in environmental law. Didn’t you tell me that was what you want to work with? I don’t think there are many paying positions in non-governmental organizations.”

“True,” you conceded as his lips returned to your body, pressing soft kisses all over your neck, his hands kneading your thighs, making wet heat pool between your legs. “Maybe I should be more realistic. Administrative law is pretty interesting as I found out.”

“If you say so.” His fingers skimmed over your cunt, making you roll your hips and groan, desperate to feel him without the barrier of clothing.

“Ok, so maybe a small one until I get a new job in a company I like,” you conceded, getting up long enough to kick your jeans aside, before coming back to his lap, earning a pleased grin from Mr. Reeves.

“Like I said, whatever you want.” He kissed you and you sighed again his lips unable to believe how much you missed this after only having one time before.

“How about your terms?” you asked breathlessly when Mr. Reeves released your lips. “It’s not fair if only I get a say in it.”

He paused for a moment and you took the opportunity to tug at his shirt. He obeyed without a word, letting you take it off him, his eyes had a faraway look as he thought about what you had just asked.

“The apartment. Pick someplace with a gym and a pool,” Mr. Reeves finally said, meeting your gaze. “I’m planning on staying over whenever I’m here.”

“I can do that,” you nodded, trying to think if the building you liked it had those things. “What else?”

“Your studies need to come above everything else. Even me,” he said and once again you nodded. “And I hope you understand that my company will come first too.”

“I understand.” You really didn’t expect any different. “Anything else?”

This time, you were the one to kiss over his neck and jaw as he thought things through, but you didn’t manage to go very far, as Mr. Reeves tilted your face back up, catching your eyes.

“You need to be completely honest with me. If you’re not happy with something I did, with this arrangement, with me, you need to tell me.”

You looked at him stunned; surprised by the care and worry in his tone. How could you think for even a second he just wanted to use you? And it made you wonder if you even need all of these terms and contracts and arrangements in the first place.

“Mr. Re… Keanu,” you amended when he arched an eyebrow at you. “Will you do the same?”

“Yes.” He gave you a short nod, eyes never leaving yours.

“Then yes.”

“That’s all I need,” Keanu smiled at you once again catching your lips and you melted in his embrace.

His hands traveled over your back, touching softly until he found the clasp of your bra and released it, helping you out of the garment, before kissing you once again, hand cupping your breasts, thumb teasing your nipple and making you arch up towards him, your moans muffled against his lips.

You rolled your hips in payback, rubbing yourself against the bulge in his sweatpants, making Keanu’s breath catch in his throat, the hand in your hip squeezing slightly, encouraging you to continue, root against him, seeking your release, but it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. Your body begged for his touch; your center pulsed and throbbed in need of him.

Reaching between your bodies, you tugged on the waistband of his pants and Keanu lifted himself so you could pull them down enough to free his cock. It laid hard and heavy against his lower belly and you licked your lips in anticipation, sliding to the ground on your knees so you could take him in your mouth.

He grunted above you at the first hesitant touch of your tongue against his head. His hands squeezing the arms of the chair, his eyes hooded watching you, lips parted, drawing shaky breaths.

Holding him steady, you let your tongue sneak out again, brush against his slit, collecting the pearly white drops gathering there, tasting him. You were surprised to find you quite enjoyed the salty, slightly bitter taste.

Emboldened by the discovery, you took his head fully in your mouth, eyes never leaving his as you sucked on it, making sure to stroke the rest as you’ve seen it.

“Give me your hand,” he croaked, his voice rougher than before and you obeyed, almost pulling it back when he ran his tongue over your palm. “To smooth things over.”

You only hummed in response, bringing your hand back to his cock and he was right, this time your motions were easier and by the way, Keanu’s lids fluttered, quite more pleasurable.

Slowly, you moved your head down, taking more of him, your tongue licking the underside vein, before swirling around his girth, exploring every ridge, every bump, before you pulled almost all the way back up and started all over again.

Keanu’s breaths were coming in short pants, his head was thrown back, his hands fisting the chair, his moans filling your ears and the sight of him this undone was making your body hot with want, sending a thrill through you. You did this. You made this powerful man succumb to you with just your mouth.

“Faster, sweetheart,” he asked, one hand coming to rest on your nape in encouragement, but not pushing it down.

You followed his request, bobbing your head faster, trying to hollow your cheeks to give him more friction and Keanu cursed above you, his hips moving up just slightly and you wondered how it would feel to let him fuck your mouth.

“Stop, stop,” Keanu said, tugging on your hair and you let him go with a pop, watching him with unsure eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Absolutely not,” he assured, pulling you back to his lap. “I just need to be inside your pretty cunt when I cum tonight.”

His words made you ache for him, your neglected clit throbbing in need and it was almost as if Keanu could read your body better than you, because he brought his hand to your core, thumb rubbing against your clit, fingers teasing your folds through your soaked panties, making you cry out and rock against his hand desperately.

“See? You need it too,” he whispered against your ear and you nodded, your arms around his neck as you rolled your hips. Keanu pushed your panties aside so he could press his fingers into you, rubbing your g-spot.

“Oh sir, please,” you gasped, pressing your forehead against his, one hand coming to stroke him. “Fuck me.”

“Soon, sweetheart,” Keanu assured, his fingers moving in and out of you. “I gotta get you nice and wet and ready for my cock. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

All you managed was a nod as you rode his hand, chasing the sweet pleasure of your climax, feeling your entire body tight and tense and ready.

“You’re gonna cum, baby?” he asked, lips drawing into a smirk and you nodded, feeling Keanu speed his motions, his thumb pressing a little harder on your clit. “Do it. I wanna feel you soaking my fingers.”

A long moan slipped from your lips, your body arching and quaking above him as your orgasm washed over you, setting all your nerve-ends into haywire. You were so lost in the aftershocks that you barely noticed as Keanu pulled his fingers away, replacing them with his cock.

All you knew was the way it seemed to drag out your pleasure as he filled you up, your walls quivering around him as if trying to draw him deeper into you until you no longer knew where Keanu ended and you began.

“Ready, baby?” he asked in a pant, his hands on your ass and you just nodded, still too dizzy to really follow what he meant. Not until he slapped your ass lightly, bringing you back to the present, meeting his eyes and smirk. “Ride me, sweetheart.”

“Oh!” Using his shoulders as leverage, you raised yourself until he was almost all the way out, before sinking back in, making both of you moan at the sensations.

It took you a while, but with Keanu’s help, you managed to set a good rhythm, bouncing on his cock, while he licked and kissed and nipped your breasts, his own hips rising to meet you, making the armchair shake and squeak beneath both of you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Not when your entire body seemed to sing with delight. All you could feel was Keanu beneath, around and inside you. His cologne mixed with the heady scent of his sweat filling your nose; the sight of him completely lost in pleasure as he marked your skin, branded you as his. His grunts and curses and moans like music to your ears. The taste of him still in your tongue…

There was nothing else in the world you wanted and the last rational part of you that seemed to have managed to keep going wondered why you were so hesitant in getting into this arrangement in the first place. You would be winning even if all you got of it was him.

“I’m not fucking you well enough if you’re still managing coherent thought,” Keanu whispered, pulling your closer to his body, until you were flushed together and stood up, making you squeal in surprise, arms tightening around him. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna drop you.”

He brought you to the table, spreading you open on the polished chestnut surface, before pushing back inside you, startling a cry out from your lips. Soon enough he was fucking you hard and fast, one of your leg over his shoulder, his thumb once again rubbing your clit and all you could focus was him, needy little moans spilling from your lips.

“That’s better,” Keanu said with a smirk, bending down to nip at your belly.

You threw you head back and held onto the edge of the table, too far gone to do anything else as your second orgasm washed over you, making you almost scream out his name, your senses blacking out for just a moment until your felt Keanu stilling, a loud groan spilling from his lips as he came too.

For a while the only sounds in the room were your ragged breathing as the two of tried to recover, Keanu draped over you, head on your stomach making your leg bent in an awkward angle, but you were too boneless to give a fuck, even if you knew you’d end up with a cramp. You were too blissed out, sated and sleepy to care.

You barely felt Keanu pulling out of you or taking you in his arms and bringing you to bed. It was all just flashes.

Keanu cleaning you up with a warm cloth. The bed dipping with his weight as he pulled you into his arms, cuddling you close. Keanu getting up despite your protesting grumbles. Kissing your forehead and promising to come back in a bit.

You finally woke up, groggy and pleasantly sore, looking around in the dark room to catch your bearings, taking a moment to recognize where you were and why. Another one to realize you were along in bed and Keanu’s side had long grown cold, but there was a note on his pillow. He had a business dinner and would be back late so you should order anything you wanted from room service. You guessed you were gonna need to get used to that sort of thing. There was no point in being disappointed.

Naked, you padded into the sitting room finding the contract you wrote on the coffee table. You picked it up, noticing Keanu had scratched out the one year clause and added the other things you two had talked about, his handwriting neat and elegant, but his signature at the end, a messy chicken scratch.

It was official then. You were his. And Keanu was yours. For as long as this arrangement lasted at least.

xxx

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angsty-aliens · 4 years

Text

Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories Of Childhood (3/3)

Final chapter of my inner child fic which was supposed to be a short little one shot and has evolved into a verse.

Alien tech has manifested an inner child for Michael. And that child has a knife.

Thank you again to the many people who helped beta and brainstorm, especially @jocarthage, @haloud, and @foramomentonly. You can read the whole fic on Ao3

***

Morning came earlier than Michael wanted. Apparently the downside to sharing a bed with Alex was Alex still operated on military time, and although he certainly tried to let Michael sleep in, by 7am he couldn’t resist tracing a finger across an eyebrow and down his cheek. Michael didn’t mind. There were worse ways to be woken up, then the gentle caress of Alex Manes touching his face.

At some point in the night, Alex ended up curled loosely against the curve of Michael’s back. He fit perfectly and it felt right. Michael could feel the swell of his cock slotted against the back of his boxer briefs, and he couldn’t help but arch back slightly, chasing the feeling. Alex chuckled, and tugged Michael flat on his back so he could peer down at him, propped up on an elbow.

“Hands above the waist?”

Michael leered with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, “pretty sure your hands were above my waist.”

Alex laughed, “always gotta find the loophole, Guerin.”

They kissed softly, noses bumping together in their eagerness.

After a few minutes of lazy making out, Alex reluctantly separated. “Do we think Mikey is still asleep?”

Michael thunked his head back against the pillow with a sigh, “Mikey is definitely not still asleep. I never slept through the night in a new placement. Even though he should KNOW he’s safe here with me, I guarantee he’s been awake for hours.”

“Should I be worried about my cabin?”

“He’s not gonna burn down your cabin, Alex.”

Alex tried to sooth him, “I know that. I’m not worried about that.”

Michael grudgingly sat up and retrieved his pants from the floor. “Only one way to see…”

It took them a few minutes for Alex to attach his prosthetic and for them to get dressed. Alex tried to exit the bedroom quietly in case Michael was wrong about the boy sleeping, but sure enough, the kid was fully dressed and reassembling the toaster on his coffee table. The couch had been stripped of all bedding, and every quilt was folded neatly and tucked unobtrusively to the side. Alex’s laundry basket was full of neatly folded clothing. The boy obviously emptied the dryer when he woke up, and tried to tidy up on his own. He did a good job. A better job than Alex expected any eleven year old to do. He had practice at this.

Michael tousled the kid’s hair on the way to the kitchen, “do you want oatmeal for breakfast or pizza?”

The kid was focused on his task, and carefully screwed in part of the toaster, “pizza!”

Alex was distracted, “uh, oatmeal.” He looked around again, “thank you Mikey for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t expect you to do that.”

The screwdriver hit the table as the boy looked up in alarm, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

“No, no it’s okay. I appreciate that you folded the laundry. You just didn’t NEED to do that. You’re a guest.” Alex tried to think of a way to salvage this exchange because the boy was definitely panicking, thinking he was in trouble. “If you want to help, we can give you chores. We can all share the chores. How does that sound?”

Mikey carefully picked the screwdriver back up again, “... I can do chores.”

Alex nodded solemnly at Mikey, a bargain struck, and he walked into the kitchen to kiss the back of Guerin’s neck, while hugging him from behind. “Why is he being a Stepford Wife?”

Michael continued to slowly move about the kitchen to heat up Alex’s oatmeal, while Alex held him like a limpet. “He promised to be nice to you.”

“Why is he tidier than you are? You leave your clothing everywhere and he’s cleaned everything up like I hired a maid service.”

Michael ran a soothing hand across Alex’s arms, locked tightly across his stomach. “Some houses liked that. Some houses required it. Religious freaks definitely required it. He’s just covering his bases. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Alex kissed his neck again and rubbed his cold nose into Michael’s curls, “I’m glad you leave messes. It drives me crazy sometimes, but I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to leave a mess.”

Michael pulled two cold slices of pizza out of the fridge and laughed, “thanks?”

Alex turned him in his arms so he was hugging him properly. Usually Michael was the clingy one, but the kid rattled him. Alex wanted affection dammit.

The two men stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms tight around each other when the kid waltzed in and grabbed his slice of cold pizza. The boy smirked at Michael, “good slumber party, huh?”

Michael raised a middle finger as the kid laughed.

Mikey smirked, “Just bros being bros! Totally platonic!”

And with his hands full of pizza, the boy disappeared back into the living room to finish working on the toaster.

With a sigh, Michael shrugged, “well he said he’d TRY to be nicer.”

***

Having an eleven year old alien around the house was both simpler and more complicated than Alex anticipated. The kid didn’t leave any big messes. He was actually obsessively clean. It was like there was no kid there at all. If Alex didn’t watch him sit at the coffee table, silently putting his toaster back together with the crust of cold pizza sticking out of the side of his mouth like a cigar, Alex could almost believe he was alone. Mikey was silent and contained. He hunched up small like he didn’t think he deserved to take up too much space. Apparently being ‘nice’ meant disappearing.

Guerin on the other hand left his boots kicked into a corner of his bedroom. His hat was on top of a lamp. His side of the bed was a rumpled mess. And he was currently humming a country song enthusiastically and off key. Alex had no question where Michael was at all times. He could close his eyes and still know, because Michael was an ever moving force of nature. Even when he tried to sit still, his knee bounced, his head swayed, his hands tapped out tunes on the arm rest. He was full of kinesthetic energy.

The complicated part of having an eleven year old alien in the house was Alex was pretty sure his couch cushions were hiding a myriad of snacks. The kid thought he was subtle, but he kept reaching between the seat cushions and nodding to himself with satisfaction. Michael insisted Alex leave it be. Apparently no conversations were needed about his couch becoming a vending machine.

The boy also didn’t have the habits most kids were taught at a very young age. Alex had to herd him into the bathroom to brush his teeth. And when Michael argued that tooth brushing was only required when his breath got nasty, Alex herded his boyfriend into the bathroom too. They could brush teeth together, like a family. A weird little Lilo and Stitch family.

Mikey had only been at the cabin for two days, but Alex couldn’t imagine a time when he didn’t exist. Isobel brought a bag of clothing and necessities from Walmart and he shrunk smaller and smaller every time she pulled out a new item, arms curled around his stomach. Like he was being buried under the invisible weight of the clothing. A new toothbrush made his shoulder hunch up to his ears, Star Wars themed pajamas had him hugging his knees to his chest, the new shoes made him tuck his chin into his arms and shrink. Michael had hugged his sister and ushered her out of the cabin before the kid could diminish any further.

Isobel meant well. “They’re Star Wars pajamas! The same design as Luke Skywalker’s flight suit! Because you always talked about wanting to see the stars.”

She meant so well.

Later Michael whispered that the kid was feeling the debt. He wasn’t used to people being nice to him without an ulterior motive. There was a currency to kindness and the boy wasn’t sure when the bill would come or what they’d ask of him. It reminded Alex of being seventeen in his father’s shed, handing Michael his brother’s guitar and watching his guard go up.

“Sometimes people can be nice for no reason.”

“Not in my experience.”

Things were clicking into place. An equation finally making sense. And all he could do was hug Michael a little tighter and hope he could give Mikey a better experience for as long as they had him.

The boy presented him with his toaster. Alex was positive the toaster was never really broken. The side was a bit dinged up from when it got knocked off the counter a few months ago. And the knob was stuck on 4, but Alex liked 4. It meant his toast was dark brown which was fine. It was perfectly adequate. He could live with 4. But now the knob turned freely, giving him every option of crispiness for his toast. And the ding had been buffed out. The kid made the toaster work like new. When Alex told him that, Mikey stood up straighter. The boy tried not to smile at the praise. In a fit of bravery, Alex reached out to toustle his hair like he watched Michael do, and the boy closed his eyes for a second and actually grinned. He could only bear Alex’s attention for a second before running off into the backyard. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with praise. It didn’t fit him comfortably, and he had to run away. Alex knew that feeling. Jesse Manes didn’t believe in praise either. Alex remembered the discomfort the first time a PE teacher congratulated him on his endurance. It felt like the comments had to be mocking. He was being made fun of. It took a long time to realize the coach was being genuine.

Michael sat next to him on the couch and kissed his cheek. “What are we doing, Alex?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t really write this into my planner. I guess we’re winging it.”

“Are we moving too fast? We went from not dating, to dating, to playing house with an eleven year old. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, “We’ve been on and off for a decade. It’s not like we’re strangers. I think keeping things PG for a while between us is a good idea, but we can watch Mikey and it won’t ruin anything.”

The kid was running in circles in the backyard. If there was a game, Alex couldn’t figure it out. It just looked like circles for the sake of circles. Making himself dizzy enough to fall down.

Michael’s phone started to buzz. Who would call instead of text? The name “Liz Ortecho” flashed and he reluctantly swiped to answer.

Liz’s voice came out in a rush, “Don’t be mad.” “Elizabeth Ortecho, no good news ever came after the statement - don't be mad.”

Liz continued, “Okay I know we were going to wait to mess with the disk until we could be at the lab together, but I…”

Michael scrubbed a hand over his face, “Oh god Liz, what did you do?”

“It’s not bad! Hey, put me on speakerphone so I don’t have to repeat this to Alex later.”

Michael placed the phone between them and pushed a button.

“You’re on speaker,” Alex was puzzled but supportive, “Liz are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I was pressing different glyphs on the disk and I think I may have accidentally accessed a user manual. Kind of. It sort of was like a psychic connection, either I accessed a user manual, or it caused me to have a psychotic break.”

“Liz.” Alex looked at Michael in alarm.

Her voice took on a higher pitch, “It’s fine! I took notes!”

Michael rolled his eyes, “THAT is not the part we’re worried about!”

Liz ignored them, “Okay so this is what I wrote down: the disk IS a therapy tool. Its intended purpose is to encourage the patient to reconnect with a difficult point in their life and by interacting with the construct the patient develops a healthier understanding of their past.”

Michael interrupted her, “Liz I hope this thing didn’t give you brain cancer.”

“Shut up.”

“Or worse, you could have accidentally triggered your own mini Ortecho.”

Irritation colored her voice, “Michael, let me finish. The connection wasn’t in English. It was all concepts, so I’m not sure I’m translating it right. Mikey is real. He’s a real kid and he’ll age like a real kid. You’ve gotta make peace with yourself, forgive yourself, and when you’re ready you both hold onto the disk and you meld back together. It doesn’t hurt him. He’s part of you. And if you never touch the disk again, Mikey stays. He’ll grow up like any normal child. We should probably run tests on both of you though, just to see. Kyle can give you both a physical.”

Michael shook his head, “The kid is NOT going to like Valenti.”

Liz insisted, “Kyle’s great with kids. It’ll be fine.”

“Your funeral.”

Alex elbowed Michael, “Okay so why didn’t the disk meld them back together when they both touched it a few days ago?”

Liz said, “It won’t work until Michael deals with his childhood trauma.”

Michael laughed, “Sure, I can just deal with my trauma. I’ll go see a therapist and talk about my abandonment issues that began when my family crash landed in Roswell in 1947. Easy.”

Alex put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You could talk to a therapist and leave out the alien details. You were abandoned. Your siblings were adopted and you weren’t. You survived a string of abusive foster homes. These are all human problems.”

Michael shrugged, dislodging the hand, “Therapists are expensive. You can’t just go talk to one. It’s cheaper to drink beer.”

Liz’s voice piped up through the cell phone, “Super healthy coping mechanism, Michael.”

Michael deflected, “So ANYWAY, if we don’t touch the disk, Mikey stays? And if we do touch the disk after I sell an alien kidney to talk to a shrink, then Mikey gets sucked back into me?”

He could almost hear the grimace in her voice, “Gross way to put it, but yes.”

“Okay thanks Ortecho. Don’t push anymore buttons on the disk. Max would cry if your brain melted.” Michael hung up the phone, turned to Alex and interlaced their fingers, “I can always take him back to the airstream. We can get out of your hair. I don’t know how long he’ll be here. You don’t just get over a shitty childhood in a day and go eat ice cream.”

Alex squeezed his hand, “I want you to stay here. I want you both to stay here. We can always clean out the extra bedroom. Right now it’s full of boxes from when I packed up Jim’s stuff. I can ask Kyle to go through it and keep what he wants. It’d be easy to turn that back into a bedroom.”

“Not your creepy murder basement?”

“Definitely not the creepy murder basement.” Alex considered, “Although actually I could probably store the boxes in there!”

Alex nodded and continued, “If the kid is here for longer than a week, we can make long term plans. I can forge paperwork. Say you’re the father and you didn’t know about him. His mother moved out of Roswell and dropped him off out of the blue.”

“I would have been sixteen or seventeen when I slept with the mother. A teenage father, how scandalous… but sort of on brand for me.”

“Maybe she was a tourist? Not anyone any of the locals would remember.”

Michael laughed, “Okay so Mikey is the result of a hook up between teenage me, and an adult out of town tourist. Yeah, this is definitely sounding like something I’d do.”

Alex was starting to become more comfortable with this plan. He loved having a plan. “So we’d need a name. Michael is a super common name and maybe she liked you enough to give him your first name, but he’d need a new last name.”

“Truman. My mom’s name was Nora Truman. I don’t care what name his fake mom has, and I don’t really want people thinking I slept with someone named Nora Truman, but he could be Michael Truman. I could have been Michael Truman if my mom got me out of the pods.”

Alex watched the boy fall down and get back up to run even tighter circles. “Maybe we can let Mikey pick out his fake mom’s name. Let him have some sort of agency, and feel involved in these choices. Are you okay with me helping you?”

“Like am I okay with you co-parenting my weird alien inner child?” Michael raised an eyebrow, “This week is so weird. Yes. Please, please help me. I barely kept myself alive for twenty one years on my own. I don’t trust myself to watch TWO of me.”

Alex tugged him closer, “you did a great job on your own. And you’d do a great job now. You just shouldn’t have HAD to have done it alone as a kid, and I don’t want you to be alone now. I want to help. I don’t think we should enroll him in school anytime soon. We should try and figure out more. But I like having some sort of idea of where we’re going here.”

“You and me, and my feral little monster who has a knife”

“Wait, he has a knife?” Alex sat up.

“Oh yeah. I didn’t mention that? It’s a pocketknife. I gave it back to him because I knew he wouldn’t stab you, and you could disarm him if he tried.” Michael appeased, “Which he won’t. I promise he won’t stab you.”

“He’s not a little monster.” Michael seemed distracted so Alex tugged on a curl to get his attention and repeated, “He’s not a little monster. And YOU’RE not a little monster. He’s a kid and we’re gonna make sure he eats a vegetable every once in awhile, and goes to sleep at a decent hour. We can do this.”

“I mean we’re already doing a better job than any of my foster homes.”

“That bar is pretty low.”

“And yet it exists.”

They eased back on the couch and watched Mikey play.

***

Michael leaned against the backdoor watching his shrinky dink alien run. The kid was playing some sort of weird running game with rules only he knew, and that Michael definitely didn’t remember. One foot managed to get hooked behind the other and the kid landed hard on his ass. Michael winced in sympathy. “Is your butt okay?”

The kid retorted, “is your BRAIN okay?

Michael shrugged, “If your butt hurts we can get Max to heal it. We don’t let him use his powers much anymore since I turned him into a cyborg with an alien pacemaker, but he could heal your butt. You’d just end up with a shiny silver handprint… on your butt. And Max could spy on your feelings, and you’d get to wallow in his poetic angst and guilt.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, “I can’t even tell if you’re kidding. Is that real? Max can heal? But with a handprint and psychic link?”

“Yep.”

Mikey huffed in irritation, “Pretty sure you’re making stuff up, but whatever. What can Isobel do? Fly but she poops alien glitter as a side effect?”

“You should DEFINITELY tell Isobel your theories.” Michael laughed, “But no, she can get into people's brains and influence them.”

Mikey side eyed him, “does she do that to us?”

“No. She promised. Sometimes she can get inside my head but she promises she won’t try to influence us. I don’t even know if she can. She’s only tried the brain thing when she needed to tell me something she couldn’t say out loud.” Michael grimaced, “I didn’t like it. She doesn’t do it often. Apparently our brain is tough and she usually has to puke if she tries anything. SHE says it’s because we’re guarded and paranoid. I think it’s because we’re awesome.”

Michael offered up a hand to high five and the kid pushed past him to the kitchen instead. Ouch.

The kid was getting a glass of water and rummaging around the fridge which made Michael grin. It took awhile to get Mikey to stop asking permission for every single thing. But Michael remembered all the homes that had strict rules about the kitchen. The religious zealots had a lock on the fridge to discourage their charges from greed. Apparently a kid being hungry was the mortal sin of gluttony.

With his head still in the fridge the kid absentminded asked, “Max is a cyborg?”

“He ended up with a heart issue. Long story. I made him a pacemaker and he’s fine now.” Michael wrinkled his nose, “Mostly.”

Mikey kicked the door shut with his hands full of food. “That’s good. Isobel would miss him if something happened to him.”

Michael pulled down a plate to help the boy make a sandwich, “Yeah, Isobel would miss him.”

The two of them stood side by side making sandwiches. It was good. Eating when hungry. Michael had gotten so used to caregivers forgetting to feed him, that he trained himself to ignore hunger. Unless it was really bad, it didn’t bother him so much anymore. Grabbing a granola bar for breakfast and then working straight through until seven or eight pm wasn’t unusual. It just seemed like a waste of energy to worry about what was for lunch when for so many years there was no lunch. Michael grew up loving school. Not only was it a place he excelled, but he also got breakfast and lunch every day there. He never understood the jokes about how gross cafeteria food was. For him, it was the closest thing to a home cooked meal he was ever gonna get. A sloppy joe served by Mrs. Riley every wednesday at New Roswell High, was his version of a dinner cooked by mom. Summers and Winter break were hard. No school meant no little plastic trays with cartons of chocolate milk and plastic silverware. School was a good place. Michael had liked school.

He cut the sandwiches in half like he’d watched Alex do. It seemed nicer that way. The kid carefully took his plate with two hands. No danger of dropping it. And Michael grabbed plates for himself and Alex, and took them to the table. Lunch. Yet another new thing Michael was trying.

They’d have to figure out what to do the longer Mikey stayed. Michael and Alex both took the day off of work, but the kid would need to go somewhere during the day starting soon. Maybe Max or Isobel. Max was still doing night shifts at the Pony and Isobel was taking a sabbatical from her event planning business. If they went public with the story that Mikey was Michael’s son, he could hang out in the junkyard with him. Michael could fix cars and there were a thousand things the kid could play with. Most foster homes didn’t let Michael fiddle with things. But he loved taking stuff apart and putting it back together. A junkyard was a perfect playground for an engineering genius.

Mikey and Alex were having an animated conversation about the merits of Ninja Turtles. Apparently Alex thought Leonardo was the best because he was the leader and was the most focused. Mikey insisted it was Michelangelo because of… pizza. And honestly, Michael had to agree. Pizza always wins. He grinned at his boys and took another huge bite of his sandwich. Maybe this would work after all.

***

Sleeping in Alex’s bed was never going to get old. There was a Michael shaped divot on the right side of the mattress. Even when he got up, he could see the impression of his body. Alex insisted this meant the mattress was shitty and he needed a new one, but Michael liked the evidence he was there.

He curled up closer to Alex and let his hand rest on his hip, technically breaking the hands above the waist rule but so long as his hand didn’t move, it seemed safe enough. His thumb fit perfectly in the hollow of Alex’s hip. He had rubbed a gentle circle when the part of his brain connected to Mikey pinged a distress call again. With a sigh he climbed out of bed, and hoped he didn’t wake Alex as he left.

The kid was sitting up on the couch wrapped in a quilt. Mikey picked at a loose thread on the knee of his Star Wars pajamas. Michael sat next to him and let him lean his weight against his side.

“Bad dream?”

The kid shrugged and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mikey shook his head. A few minutes later he blurted, “I heard you and Alex.”

“Heard us what?”

Mikey rocked a little in place, “Talking about how the disk works. How you gotta talk about your emotions so we meld together like a transformer, Mega-Michael, or you’re stuck with me.”

Michael protested, “I don’t have to talk about my emotions.”

“Sometimes you gotta share your fart with the world. You keep it all squeezed up in your butt and it gives you a stomach ache. You just gotta let it out to feel better.”

“My emotions aren’t farts.” Michael crossed his arms defensively.

“But your face is a fart,”

“We have the same face!”

The kid smirked, “Nah, I look awesome. You look constipated.”

Mikey became quiet and serious. He pressed his body against Michael’s side, trying to become a Mega-Michael without alien technology. “You gotta be okay with the bad stuff that happened to us. You’ve gotta… not blame me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You blame yourself. I blame me. Bad things happened everywhere we went. We were the only constant factor in the experiment, therefore we’re the variable at fault. It’s just science.”

Michael wrapped both arms around the kid, “I don’t blame you.”

The boy huffed, “You’re stuck with me for awhile. If we don’t touch the disk, you could be stuck with me forever.”

Michael rested his chin on the kid’s head, “That wouldn’t totally suck.”

Mikey closed his eyes, “Alex might not be a fan of this plan.”

“Alex likes this plan.” The Michaels looked up as Alex spoke with a smile. At some point he wandered into the hallway unnoticed. His shoulder was against the wall and he leaned heavily on his crutch. He had been eavesdropping.

The kid tried to push himself out of Michael’s hug, but Michael just squeezed him tighter.

Mikey insisted, “You won’t like me. I’m a mess.”

Alex sat on the other side of him and wrapped an arm around his boys, “I like messes.”

“No you don’t. You’re clean. You make your bed perfectly every morning and you always do your dishes. You’d get tired of me. I’m loud.”

“The cabin was too quiet anyway.”

“I’m… I’m mean. I’ll say mean things.”

Alex ran a hand through the boy’s curls, “It’s okay. You can say mean things and we’ll still like you. You can still stay here. We’re choosing you. We want you to stay.”

Mikey tried to push at the arms embracing him. He kicked at Michael as his eyes welled up, “I’m gonna break all the stuff you like!”

Michael winced as a bony heel caught his thigh, “Yeah but we can fix it. Anything you break we can fix together.”

It was like someone cut the strings of a dancing marionette. The kid lost all fight and fat tear drops streamed down his face to his horror. “You’re gonna change your mind.”

Michael looked at Alex, a silent conversation happening above the boy’s head. Michael wiped a glob of snot off the kid’s face with the hem of his shirt. “We’re picking you. On purpose. We want you to stay. Do you want to stay?”

Mikey took a great shuddering breath and nodded.

Alex thumbed away a tear, “Then as long as you want us, we want to keep you.”

It wasn’t a conventional family. It wasn’t something Michael ever thought he’d have. But Michael, Alex, and Mikey could pick each other. That was a thing they could do. And they’d be okay.

#my fic #inner child fic #rnm fic #michael guerin fic #michael guerin #alex manes #feral stabby baby #cw child abuse #tw child abuse #roswell new mexico fic #deaging #kind of #truck stop knives and other accessories of childhood

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literalliterature · 4 years

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7/4/20: On Lilapsophobia

A few days ago, I learned the term "extinction burst." For one thing, it's now on my list of Potential Album Titles Referencing Terminology Used To Describe Grand Dyings, which is a longer list than you might think, especially for someone who doesn't have a band. It's up there with phrases like "Lazarus taxon" and "high place phenomenon." A species turning up after being presumed extinct, the seemingly sourceless urge to jump when faced with a cliff edge. Things disappearing, but not fading. They go out wilder than that.

An extinction burst doesn't, in fact, have to do with the extinction of species at all. I learned it from a video on dog training. I should say I learned the phrase itself that way, because I've known about the concept for awhile, because I am my own bad dog. An extinction burst occurs when you're trying to break an animal of a bad habit and it gets worse before it gets better. At first it only seems to bark louder or pull harder at the leash, trying to use the only way it knows to get what it wants. The first step in training the begging or the braying out of a dog is to break it of the belief that there is no other way.

Today, I paced around the coffee table for twenty minutes and felt my insides stirring with every rumble of thunder. I wished I'd had pointed ears that I could lay back flat and a long tongue that quivered with hot, humid hyperventilation. I wished for a den. But what I did was leave foot-sweat on the living room hardwood and think how, if I heard the tornado sirens, I would have to walk straight and sound level when I faced my roommate to tell him that we should go to the underground laundry room.

I understand dogs better than people, and I'm no exception. I understand myself better as a dog than as a person, and a little dog at that--a Chihuahua or maybe some small terrier, something that shakes for no reason. It doesn't make sense to me that I always feel the urge to take the train north just to avoid an oncoming storm they've seen on the radar. (As I hope everyone knows, just about any form of transport is a death trap in a twister, and you're better off lying down in a ditch than trying to outrun one.) But I don't question it when I hear about pets bolting at the sound of fireworks. No one does. That's the thing about a dog hiding under the bed every Fourth of July until the end of its days. The fact that the noise has never actually hurt the dog will not teach it to fear less. As far as it's concerned, every time it's been worried about the boom, it's ultimately been safe. Worrying, then, is the only way.

The cold front's now just about passed, and there was no tornado. They haven't even issued a warning for the area today--certainly didn't during the couple hours I curled up on the floor of the tub with the Accuweather app and twenty nigh-empty shampoo bottles. Believe it or not, I'm getting better. As a kid, I'd start watching the Weather Channel for a couple hours daily beginning in March and memorize the weekly forecast from their Local on the 8's. That way, if they projected a severe weather event, I'd be able to start stockpiling throw pillows in the basement bathroom as soon as possible, should they be needed for head coverings--most fatal injuries in a tornado occur from flying or falling debris to the head, I internally recited over and over again. I'd also matter-of-factly let my parents know ahead of time to cancel any plans they had for going outside at any point during that day. A supercell could spin up at any time in an unstable atmosphere, I'd inform. But they usually did not see fit to stay home from their jobs.

Now it's not such a process. Sometimes, these days, I can go all the way up until the day of a severe storm before the anxiety starts to make me nauseated. Then I'm happy to sit with my bicycle helmet snug at my side, waiting to bolt into the innermost room of my dwelling.

Besides, I like the tub. We should've never stopped living in tight little dens. I like to curl up with my knees to my chest on the porcelain and wonder if they make ThunderShirts for people.

I refresh the radar map. Dread comes in rainbow blobs. If I'm watching for it, it can't get me, says something that's lived inside me since I knew how to feel fear. It's the same primitive something that used to tell me the shadow in my childhood closet wouldn't come to life if I stayed up all night to stare it down. I worry the way some people pray. There's ritual to it, repeated refrains and lines of thought. There's vigilance. Sometimes I feel like the people around me, Sinners in the Hands of a Mesocyclone, aren't sufficiently aware of the wrath coming their way, so I do their worrying for them, too, watch out for them. These days, I only believe in a Higher Being at my worst moments, and only one who wants retribution. Earlier, during a lull in the thunder, I ventured briefly from the tub in the notably windowless space and pulled out my eyelashes in front of the bathroom mirror with all the solemnity and intention of one saying a decade of the rosary.

Sometimes I train myself, though not as consistently as I should. When the nasty storms come, when I can bear it, sometimes I sit with my back to the windows. I don't even check the radar. I go about my business and ignore the sensation of a gnawing at my ribs, the pacing and panting of my heart behind the bars. I know, and have known for years, that a tiny percentage of storms are supercells, and of those that are, only some drop funnels at all, and of those that do, a small fraction are strong enough to do real damage. If I sit through enough of them like this and nothing happens, then I'll be desensitized to the onset of severe storms altogether. If you can train a hunting dog to not flinch at the sound of a gunshot, then I should at least be able to do this. Right now, though, it's getting worse before it gets better. Something bursting from me.

Some say the thing you fear in this life is the thing that killed you in the last, and "you had an epic death," a friend of mine once told me. I can't deny the romance in it. When an EF5 sweeps anchor-built homes off their foundations, never mind the people inside them, they're said to be taken "aloft," high into the sky. A grand dying indeed, to become weightless in the roaring air. I think anyone who pictures that believes, on some level, that those people taken aloft will never hit the ground again. They might, in fact, not, at least not all in one retrievable piece, since deaths tend to occur through impaling or dismemberment by other flying debris midair. Still, romantic. The Tri-State Tornado, the deadliest in US history, is so named because it went all the way from Missouri to Indiana but spent most of it's time crossing through Illinois to get there. As a young Illinoian child, I took this to mean that my state was cursed, and by extension, so was I. It happened nearly 40 years before Doppler radar was widely used to forecast the weather, nearly 50 before the Fujita scale was instated. Back in 1925, I don't know what one would have thought upon seeing a wall of cloud and wind a mile wide stripping the very soil from the ground on its way toward you, save that it was armageddon at last. The world erased before your eyes, and the outer wall of your house blown out so you can bear full witness. That's what I'd call an extinction burst.

I once knew a family with dogs that would fetch pillows for guests who came through the door. They used to bark instead, but instead of being trained to simply not make noise, they were trained to do something else. They couldn't, after all, bark with a pillow in their mouths, and they'd be less inclined to anyway, while they were focused on retrieving them. Everyone knows that, given nervous energy, it's much easier to channel it into something else than to try smothering it.

I love dogs better than people, myself included. I know there are no bad dogs. I've been learning to be a storm spotter. If you're registered as one, you can report weather phenomena to your local NOAA office, and those reports are spread through meteorology networks, improving the minute-by-minute forecasting. It's nice, learning just how to spot a wall cloud or report hail size. It's nice, specifically, watching for those things in order to do something rather than to torment myself. I can't not track the weather, I don't think. But I can watch it with purpose. I can hold the clouds nicely between my teeth.

#ok to rb #autofiction #fiction #yeah this is technically fiction lol #lilapsophobia #astraphobia #storm #tornado #twister #dog #animal behavior

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solynaceawrites · 4 years

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Promise Me Forever [4]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC) Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 3/14 co-written by @lickitysplitfic Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they’re meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he’s forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

It turns out to be another sleepless night for Dante. At first, he simply cannot get comfortable; blaming it on the humidity caused by a storm rolling in, he opens the windows and strips himself nude, and kicks the covers to the foot of the bed. Then comes the restlessness he knows all too well, the kind that can usually be solved with a nice little round of masturbation. Yet the second his hand touches his cock, the image of Lir comes to mind, and he releases it with a curse. He might be an asshole, but he's not that kind of asshole.

All of that serves to leave him irritable and more than a little wound up the next morning, and he spends a long time in the shower, trying to get himself under control. If he doesn't, he'll snap at her sooner or later, or worse, and she doesn't deserve that. Dante is careful not to drip too much water on the floors as he dries off, and then he dresses and heads down into the shop.

“—will be alright," he hears Lir say. Pausing, he leans over the railing, his brows going up at the sight of her sitting on the couch with a woman sobbing into a tissue. "Dante will be able to take care of it."

Her position lets him drink in her figure, the braid of her hair exposing the elegant sweep of her neck. He swallows thickly, listening to the conversation unfold. "Are you sure?" the woman sniffles.

"Yes. He's very good at this. I've seen it," Lir reassures her. "I know you must be feeling hopeless, but he can help you."

"Help with what?" he calls as he takes the stairs two at a time.

Lir stands and gestures him over. "You have a new client," she says, beaming with pride.

Dante remembers the fuss she made over him killing the demons last night, and he clears his throat uncomfortably as he sits at his desk. "What's the situation?" he asks.

The woman sniffles as she describes what sounds like a very basic haunting: Demons have taken over her garage, nasty little devils that are eating the stray cats. "My poor babies," she sobs, blowing her nose. "I leave food out for all the neighborhood cats. I tried to keep them safe, but they've been devoured, one by one!"

"That must have been very upsetting," Lir says sympathetically.

She nods as Lir pats her shoulder. "Misty had a litter two days ago, and I know they'll be next. Please, you have to help me!"

Lir looks at him expectantly. It's obvious she wants him to say something comforting, but he frowns. "Why are you feeding all the vermin anyway?" he asks. "Stray cats are a nuisance."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows his mistake. Lir's eyes go wide as the woman leans forward and hisses viciously, "Listen, you, those are God's creatures you're talking about, and those evil, disgusting demons need to go straight back to hell where they belong!"

Dante holds up his hands to defend himself, but Lir quickly interrupts, "What Dante meant is that you should feed them elsewhere until he can take care of the demons for you. Didn't you, Dante?" she finishes, giving him a pointed look.

". . . Yeah." The woman deflates, her tears returning, and he feels a brief stab of irritation he tries to ignore. "It sounds easy enough. You and your . . ." Lir shakes her head subtly. "You and your friends should find a place to stay for a few days, until the job is done."

Watery eyes fix on his own. "You'll be careful, won't you? Those . . . those things have caused enough damage."

He does his best to hold in a sharp retort, though his voice is clipped when he replies, "I'll do what I can."

"Come on," Lir says gently, helping the woman to her feet. "Let me make you a cup of tea, and then we can work on getting your contact information, okay?"

She leads her away, Dante tracking the sway of her hips. It's only been two days since she arrived, bringing another mess for him to sort through, yet he's finding himself more and more adjusted to her presence, more at ease with having her around. And it helps that she's pretty to look at, even if that train of thought is likely to lead him to other, less polite ones.

After Lir serves tea she produces a contract for her to sign, which the woman does as she rambles on about her cats. Dante tunes out Lir's polite questions after the felines to wonder how she had found them—hell, after Morrison had given him a stack of boilerplates years ago, he stuffed them in a drawer and forgot about them. Did she clean his desk too?

The woman leaves and Lir makes sure the door is firmly shut before bursting into giggles. "That was a strange one!" she remarks, walking over to his desk and handing him the contract. "Are all your cases so interesting?"

"Yeah. Hey, how did you do that?" he asks.

Lir blinks at him, her arm still extended, holding out the paper for him to take. "Do what?"

"That. With that client. She left . . ." Dante grasps for the word. "Happy?"

Her brows furrow, and he's filled with the sudden, ridiculous urge to kiss the indent between them to smooth it away. "Do your clients tend to leave unhappy?"

"Maybe. I dunno." He takes the contract from her and leans back in his chair to get a little more space before he does something she'll regret. "They certainly aren't saying thank you, or smiling."

"I . . . I was just nice to her. That's all." Lir tugs at the hem of her shirt, her fingers worrying the fabric. "I was taught how to be a good hostess, in case I ever needed to be, so I just . . . talked to her?"

"Talk to her," he muses, opening a drawer in the desk. "I'll have to try that some time.”

He looks down and frowns again, spying hanging file folders neatly labeled and lined in order. When did she have time to do all this?

"Are you hungry?" Lir asks. "I didn't get much done with the client here so early, but I did manage to bake some muffins and brew some fresh coffee."

"Come here," he says, pushing the drawer closed with his foot. She does as he's asked, stepping around the desk until she's next to him, and there's the same nervous energy from the other night, when he'd cornered her in the laundry room. Slowly, he stands, leaning down to study her face. "You sleep at all?"

"What? Yes, of course." She looks up at him, a faint rosy hue to her cheeks. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wonderin'. You got a lot done over the past few days."

Lir chuckles. "I've never been one to need a lot of sleep. Besides, I've been training my whole life to take care of a son of Sparda. And I . . . like it." The last part is almost a whisper, and she blushes and looks away. "You've been very kind to me, letting me stay here. It's the least I could do."

"Show me these muffins," he says, and Lir gives him another smile that leaves him a bit hot under the collar.

He is on his third when the phone rings back in the office. "I'll get it," Lir says, breezing out of the kitchen.

Her voice filters in with, "Devil May Cry, how can I help you?" as he looks over the remaining muffins, when Lir calls, "Dante! It's Lady!"

"Alright!" he calls back. Snagging a blueberry muffin and popping as much of it as he can into his mouth, he saunters back to his desk, swallowing as he grabs the receiver. "'Bout time you called."

"Yeah, yeah." Her voice is a bit crackly. "Almost thought I had the wrong shop for a minute. When'd you let her start answering calls?"

Dante glances over to Lir, who is carefully sweeping the rug by the door. "I don't let her do anything. She chooses to. I just don't stop her."

"Well, aren't you getting soft?" Lady laughs. Ignoring his sputtered protests, she continues, "I found her home. It's a town called Llyrlen, about three hours away from Fortuna by car. Pretty self-contained, too."

"Llyrlen, huh?"

"Yeah. Seems they take this god thing pretty seriously." She sighs. "But, from what I could gather, it's all true. Sparda and this Ler met and made a promise, and Lir, as the god's direct descendant and the only of her sisters eligible to marry, was sent to fulfill it."

He rubs his lips. "What happens if she doesn't?"

"From what I heard, exactly what she said. She'll be an outcast, stripped of everything and sent to work in the archives for the rest of her life. Kind of like a nun, only less pleasant."

"Okay." He glances at Lir, who watches him expectantly. Can he really let that happen? "Thanks for doing this. I'll see you when you get back."

"Yeah. Don't let Lir leave, okay? I'm going to make a quick stop but I'll be there in a few days. Then I'll help her figure out what to do."

Dante feels a bit of a burn in his throat at the implication that he wouldn't bother doing the same. "Yeah. I won't. And, hey, listen, they didn't know you were there, right? Lir's family?"

"What do you take me for? I'm a professional."

With that the line goes dead, and he sighs as he hangs up the receiver. "What did she say?" Lir asks tightly.

Dante shrugs. "You were right. We're supposed to get married."

He waits for the accusatory response, but instead she looks at him, her eyes more hesitant than he'd like. "What do you want to do?" The question startles him; shouldn't he be asking her that? "Should I pack my things?"

"No! No, you're not goin' anywhere." He runs a hand through his hair, leaning heavily against his desk. "I don't think marriage is in the cards and, after you seein' what I'm really like, I'd be surprised if you still wanted to. But you can . . . Having you around is nice. If you want to stay, you can."

Dante expects her to respond with her usual enthusiasm, but instead, she seems to deflate. "I can't impose on you like that."

"Sure you can," he says. "I don't mind."

Lir shakes her head. "It's not . . . you're the son of Sparda, and—"

"Would you lay off that son of Sparda stuff?" Dante snaps.

"Well! It's the truth!" she fires back, taking him by surprise. "And I can't stay here if we're not married. It's not proper."

Her expression is furious, but Dante bursts into laughter. "Proper? Like marrying a stranger is proper?"

She folds her arms in a huff. "That's different."

"How?"

"Because it was . . . It was . . . It just is!"

"I'll pay you," he chuckles, trying not to focus on how cute she is when she's mad, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, trying not to wonder if she'd look like that after he kissed her. It's not the time, it's not the place, and he's got no right to think those things about her. "You stay here, work the phones, greet clients, and I'll pay you in room and board."

"Forty percent," she says.

"What!" he exclaims. "No way. That's robbery."

Lir shrugs. "Fine. Thirty."

"Ten."

"Twenty-five."

Dante growls. "Twenty and I'll take you to the aquarium and the zoo."

"Deal!" She sticks her hand out with a grin. "See how good I am at negotiating?"

"Damn near ruthless," he agrees, clasping her fingers between his own. Yet he finds it harder than he'd like to let go; blaming it on whatever it is that's making him so horny, he forces himself to drop her hand. "Well, looks like we've got the rest of the day to ourselves. Anything you want to do?"

Lir taps her chin. "I need to see what I can cook for dinner tonight, but, before that, I'd like to finish cleaning upstairs. If that's okay?"

"Be my guest."

She smiles at him. "Okay. I'll make a fresh pot of coffee. Oh! And you need to start getting ready for that job, right?"

"Right. Cat lady." Lir gives him a look and he rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine. Sooner I get that done the better." He walks around his desk and grabs the guitar case, slinging it over his back. "You'll be okay for a few hours?"

"Yup!" she says. Then Lir smiles shyly. "You'll be safe, won't you?

That makes him pause. When was the last time anyone had been worried for his safety? Usually everyone assumed he would be fine, and he always was, but something about having her ask makes him feel warm in a way he doesn't quite understand. "Don't worry that pretty head too much. I doubt I'll need more than the girls to handle this." Seeing her confusion, he amends, "The guns."

"Oh! I see. Well, then. Hm." Dante waits to hear whatever it is she's trying to say, but what he's not expecting is for her to brace her hands on his shoulders and lean up to press the briefest of kisses to his cheek. "For luck."

His skin burns with her kiss, and Dante quickly spins, giving a weak salute as he heads out the door. Suddenly filled with way, way too much energy, he decides to head to the job on foot, whistling to himself as he moves through the city.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Dante practically crawls back to the Devil May Cry, sighing with relief when he turns the knob of the front door.

He winces, his fingers and hands covered in scratches that leave tracks all the way up his arms and over his chest. They don't hurt terribly bad, but the sheer amount of scrapes all combined cause him to ache every time he moves. The rest of him hadn't fared much better, his clothes splattered with now-dried blood, sweat and dirt making his cuts sting.

All he wants is a beer and a nap, maybe in that order. But the second he steps inside the shop and smells the cleaning products and fails to trip over some stuff on the floor, he remembers he's not alone anymore.

"Dante! You're back!" Lir calls excitedly over from the couch. He turns around and gingerly takes off his coat, hanging it on the door as her voice gets closer. "I was starting to worry. I didn't make anything but I can heat up—oh my goodness! You're hurt!"

Her hands are on his arms, pushing up his sleeves as she chews on her lip. "Nah, I'm fine," he says.

Lir gives him a sharp look, making him feel scolded. "What happened?" she demands.

"Those damn cats," Dante growls. "The demons were no problem, but the cats didn't like me much."

"Oh," she breathes. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think to . . . Of course they'd be aggressive towards you. Cats can sense demons, and one was attacking them. Sit here." She tugs him to the couch, and he allows her to guide him, sinking onto the cushions with a sigh. "I'll be right back. I think I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom."

Dante waits until she's gone to lean his head back, and it isn't long until he's dozing. The sensation of cool hands against his skin rouses him a bit. He cracks open his eyes to find Lir kneeling between his legs, her hair tucked behind her ears as she carefully dabs antiseptic over his scrapes, a bottle of beer sitting next to her on the floor. He lifts a hand to graze his fingers over her cheek, and her eyes flick to his face, a soft smile curling her lips.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she says quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he chuckles. "But I'm good."

Lir gives him a shy smile. Then she shifts to lean over him, brushing his hair back so she can swab his forehead. "These don't look too bad, you know. They'll be healed in a few days."

"Sooner than that," he murmurs.

Dante can feel his healing working already, but some part of him wishes it wouldn't, so she can still keep working on him. Lir searches his face before going back to checking his arms, and he uses the opportunity to just gaze at her.

It's not the first time he's studied her, but it is the first that he's been this close while doing it. Her brows and lashes are darker than her hair, an ashy gray, and they almost seem to glow with the pale amber of her eyes. There are no freckles or other markings on her creamy skin, though a faint scar tracks along her temple, and, with her straight nose and full lips, she's gorgeous. Dante brushes a few strands of hair from her face, his heart thudding uncomfortably when she leans into the touch after a second's hesitation.

When she looks up again, they are close, close enough that he can feel her breath fan on his lips. His own part and her eyes dart down, and Dante feels his heart thudding as her mouth curves up into a smile. "I think you're going to live," she murmurs.

"Lucky me," he replies.

Lir licks her lips. The gesture makes something inside him tighten, but then she eases away, leaning over to clean up her supplies. "I was thinking of doing a delivery order," she says, her back to him. "Now that I'm staying I can get more groceries in. There are also some items that I can use to make different oils and potions you can use."

"Potions?" murmurs Dante, his eyes sliding along her spine.

She peeks at him over her shoulder with a grin. "Yeah. Like for when you come back from fighting some stray cats covered in cuts and bruises?"

"As long as you're the one putting it on me." She stiffens for a moment before laughing quietly, and he decides that he likes the sound of it almost as much as he does the sound of her talking to him. "You know, I gotta ask. Pretty girl, good head on her shoulders, and her family sends her off to marry someone she's never met? How'd you wind up with this gig?"

Lir hums, latching the kit. "I have three older sisters. One of them is married, and the other two are betrothed. I was next in line. That's all."

"Three sisters?"

"Older sisters," she corrects. "There's a younger one, as well."

"That's a . . . lot." He chuckles, the sound cutting off when she stands.

Lir shrugs. "I guess they figured they needed enough daughters in case one of you showed up."

"And what if I didn't?" Dante puts his arms up on the back of the couch, the soreness already faded. "How did you even find me?"

"Fortuna," she answers. "Kind of hard not to notice you."

Dante huffs a laugh as he shakes his head. "Yeah, that was a fuck-up in every way. But suppose I hadn't been there. We wouldn't have ever met."

It isn't a question so much as a realization, and he ends up frowning as she nods in agreement. "I probably would have been married off. If my sisters and I did not marry the son of Sparda, then we would be tasked with creating the next generation of brides."

She offers him a smile before carrying the first aid kit away, her steps soft on the steps. Dante scratches his head, thinking on what she told him. Honestly, it was creepy as hell.

"The next generation of brides," he mumbles. "What the hell did you do, you old bastard?"

Not wanting to get anywhere close to that conversation topic again—at least, not now—he grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns on the television, flicking through until he finds Netflix. Patty had set it up for him and given him one of the slots on her account, but he's never really used it; but maybe there will be something Lir will like. Though why that matters, he doesn't know.

She comes back as he's scrolling through different horror movies, and he hears her gasp and looks up to find her covering her mouth with her hand. "What . . . What is that?"

"This? It's . . . Oh. Shit, I'm sorry." Cursing, he flicks back up to something far less gory. "It's called Netflix. All sorts of movies and shows to watch. Thought you might want to pick something for tonight, if you're up to it?"

Lir plops down on the couch next to him, one leg tucked under her, but he notes how she still sits very straight, as if it is practiced. "I don't know," she says very matter-of-factly, turning to look at him. "What kind of entertainment do you like?"

"Uh . . . I guess action? Or maybe a scary movie?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing scary, please. But action would be okay."

Dante nods and scrolls to the right screen. He chooses a movie about aliens invading, the world sending its best fighters to fight, the hero's girl trapped and needing rescuing. Lir had brought him back a plate with some reheated lasagna, which he tucks into as she relaxes just a bit, her eyes on the screen.

But his eyes drift to her again and again, gauging her reactions. At first he tells himself because he wants to see if it's too intense, or if she understood a joke, but eventually he realizes because he just likes watching her. It's almost like reliving it through her, and when she shouts at a lame jumpscare he chuckles. Lir leans in towards him a bit, her eyes glued to the screen, and Dante decides to experiment, pretending to yawn as he reaches his arm up and around her back.

She looks at him, a mixture of concern and confusion playing across her features. "Am I crowding you?" she whispers. "I'm sorry, I'll move."

"No, no, I thought . . ." He yanks his arm back and places it next to him. "Nevermind."

Lir gives him a curious look before turning back to the television. Dante clears his throat, shifting a bit, but now way too distracted by his crash and burn.

It occurs to him briefly that Lir might not know he is trying to flirt a bit, so he decides to take a more direct approach. "Hey, Lir," he murmurs, tilting his head towards her. "Did you know—"

"Sh," she hisses, her eyes glued to the screen.

He sinks back into his seat, steadfastly keeping his own gaze focused on the movie. This no longer seems like a good idea; between her semi-ignorance of the things outside of her home and his inner turmoil growing the longer she's around, being on this couch with her is probably the worst way to be, and it's all made worse by the dull, insistent ache in his groin. Not that it's her fault. Well, maybe it is. Lir readjusts next to him, and her thigh feels like a brand when it brushes his own.

What he needs is a magazine, a bit of lotion, and a bit of time to himself.

"This is really fun!" Lir exclaims, flashing him a grin.

"Yeah," Dante sighs, stretching his legs out and propping them up on the table. "It's swell."

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #lirael thorne #lir #dante/lir #dante/oc #dante x oc #dmc oc #fanfiction #writing #story #my figures #collab #promise me forever #pmf #whoops i'm late sorry

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team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years

Text

First Love Never Die (Second Chances)

Title: First Love Never Die (Second Chances) Request: Can you do a deanxreader song fic to first love never die by soko and can it be angsty and fluffy - anon Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: angst, canon violence Word Count: 3.8k

note; here you go, i hope this is what you were after and that you enjoy! xx

Masterlist

“It’s over, Y/N. There’s- there’s nothing we can do. You should go - you don’t need to be around for what happens next.”

Dean’s words were like a knife to your chest, and you shook your head vehemently as you slammed the lore book in front of you closed.

“Dammit, Dean, there’s still time! We can find a way-”

“There’s no saving me, Y/N! The hellhounds are gonna come for me, they’ll drag me to hell, and that will be that,” Dean said firmly. His jaw was clenched, and you could see the hint of tears in his eyes that he was quick to blink away. “It’s not a matter of months anymore, Y/N. It’s- it’s hours.”

Your boyfriend’s voice cracked, and you felt a sob of desperation claw its way up your throat. You swallowed it down - you couldn’t break, not right now, not in what might be Dean’s final hours.

“If you think that’s gonna stop me, then you don’t know me at all,” you shot back, but your words fell flat, clumsy and heavy on your tongue. Dean sighed, running his hands over his face as he shook his head.

“C’mere,” he murmured. Your eyes lingered on the yellowing pages in front of you, before they once again found Dean. You wanted to argue - wanted to tell him to stop acting like he was already dead, that you’d find a way out of this, that you had to. But your words died on your lips at the look in his eyes, and before you knew it you were across the room, his arms folding around you as he crushed you to his chest.

Your hands fisted in his shirt as you clung to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you breathed him in, memorising every facet of this moment; the press of his lips on your temple, the gentle, soothing caress of his hands on your back, the murmured reassurances he breathed in your ear. You didn’t realise you were crying until Dean gently pulled away, his warm, calloused hands cupping your cheeks as he leaned in to kiss away your tears.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his thumb running soothingly over your cheekbone. “I promise.”

You felt your face crumple as you stopped fighting the sobs ripping from your throat. “I don’t care about me - I just want you. I need you to be okay, Dean, I can’t-”

He shook his head, eyes heavy with pain. “Shh… it’s okay.” His voice was soft, kind. You longed to lose yourself in the honey of his words, to bring yourself to believe they were true - that this wasn’t the last moment you’d spend with him. That somehow, everything would be okay.

“I love you.” Your words came out as a whimper, and Dean swallowed hard as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you more,” he breathed. And then he was kissing you, his mouth urgent and passionate over yours, and you knew that this was it. But if this was going to be your last kiss, then you’d be damned if it wasn’t epic.

You pressed your body close to his, one hand on his shoulder as the other threaded into his hair, pulling him to your height as his tongue sought yours and his hands found your waist. His fingertips clawed into the flesh of your hips, and you almost believed that if you held one another tightly enough, then nothing would ever separate you. Not even the hellhounds that were surely tracking him at this second.

Dean moved his hand back to your cheek, holding you like you were something precious as he slowly pulled back, eyes closed as the taste of you still lingered on his lips. He placed one last long, soft kiss to your mouth, and then... he was gone.

---

4 years later

You woke up screaming.

Your nails clawed at empty bed sheets as you threw yourself upright, hair clinging to your forehead and sleep clothes drenched with sweat. You were too scared to close your eyes again, terrified of the sight you’d be met with; Dean, screaming and twisting in agony as invisible beasts sliced at his chest, his shirt blossoming with blood as the life slowly drained out of him and his eyes turned glassy. You’d hear Sam’s cries next to you, hear Lilith’s icy laugh as she stood idly by and watched…

It took you a few moments to calm down - a few deep breaths, a few minutes to wipe the sweat from your face, to test your shaky legs until you could make it to the shower and wash the last clinging remnants of your nightmare away.

As you stumbled to your bathroom, you tripped on your boots, laying where you had left them at the foot of your bed the night prior. They were crusted with dried blood, and the clothes you were still wearing had fared no better. You stripped them off, tossing them in the laundry hamper before stepping in the shower and letting the scalding water cascade over your skin.

You’d almost forgotten about your werewolf hunt last night - that was probably what had dragged up the memories you’d worked so hard to bury.

When Dean had died, you and Sam had gone your separate ways. He only reminded you of his brother, and vice versa - there were only painful memories between you both. The two of you had started off by checking in with each other every few days - a text here, a phone call there. But somewhere along the line he stopped replying, and you stopped trying.

And so, you’d made the decision to leave hunting, and all that came with it, behind. To give normal life a second chance - like Dean had always wanted for you.

You’d done well so far - found yourself a house in a nice neighbourhood, a job that you enjoyed, even a few friends that you’d meet for coffee every now and then. Life wasn’t perfect by any means, but you didn’t lose anyone anymore; not in the way you had as a hunter.

But even though you’d vowed to leave that life behind, when the victim of what was clearly a werewolf turned up on your own street, you weren’t about to just ignore it. Though you were a tad out of practice, it hadn’t taken you long at all to track the monster and put a bullet in its brain before it had the chance to claim another life.

That doesn’t matter now, you reminded yourself. It was dead - a non-issue. And you’d go back to your ordinary job, in your ordinary life, and you’d put the past behind you once again. This was your second chance - you weren’t letting one hunt pull you back in.

When you stepped from the shower, raw and red after scrubbing the dried blood from your skin, you stripped your dirtied sheets and tossed them in the hamper to join your clothes. As you prepared your laundry you flipped on the TV, rolling your eyes as you saw that it was another press coverage of the one and only ‘Dick Roman.’

You’d just left the washing machine when you heard a knock at your door. Sighing, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror and ran your fingers through your hair before heading to answer it.

Another impatient knock resounded as you approached, and you rolled your eyes. “Calm down, I’m coming!” you muttered. The person on the other side started speaking before you’d even had a chance to fully open the door.

“FBI, my partner and I need to ask you a fe- Y/N?”

Your heart stopped as you saw him.

He looked exactly the same, albeit a little older. His mouth was slightly agape, eyes bulging in shock as they raked over you, drinking in the sight like a parched man gulped water. You felt your heart leap to your throat as you struggled to find the words to reply, but only one word was on your mind.

“Dean?”

“Y/N,” he breathed again, your name an echoed prayer on his lips. Sam cleared his throat, and you blinked away your stupor as your eyes turned to the youngest Winchester. His hair was longer, and Christ, was he always that tall?

“What- what are you doing-” You couldn’t string together a coherent sentence, and you immediately stumbled away from the entrance, fingers fumbling for the vase of holy water you always kept by the door. You threw it over him, and his shocked expression shifted to one of annoyance as the water rolled down his face and drenched his suit. Dean sighed loudly.

“Not a demon,” he said, before pulling a blade from his pocket - silver. He cut his palm. Nothing.

“Listen, Y/N, can we come in?” Sam asked, and you blinked as you nodded vaguely, stepping aside in disbelief as the Winchester brothers stepped over your threshold, easily passing over the devil’s trap you had hidden beneath the welcome mat. Somehow the three of you found yourselves sitting in your living room. They seemed so out of place there - two halves of your life colliding, two different worlds meeting where they were never supposed to converge.

You didn’t speak, just stared open-mouthed at Dean as he made himself comfortable on your couch, fiddling with his thumbs as he avoided eye contact.

“So-uh- you probably have a few questions,” he said with a nervous chuckle, and your brows shot to your hairline.

“A few? You- I thought you were dead, Dean! What the hell happened?!” you demanded, and as you saw him search for the right way to explain, you felt your eyes brimming with tears. He was alive - Dean Winchester, your first love, the man you would have traded your soul for… he was back.

And so, he explained. He told you stories of angels, of Lilith and Lucifer and Michael. Of Alpha monsters, of his brother losing his soul. Of leviathans, and their quest to stop them. You leaned back in your chair, blinking as you struggled to take it all in.

“Wait, so- angels are real?” you demanded. “And- and you’re friends with one?”

Dean nodded sheepishly, and you exhaled sharply.

“Wow. Wow. How- how is everybody? I haven’t been in contact with anyone since… well, you know. How are Ellen and Jo? Bobby?” you pressed eagerly, and your stomach plummeted as you saw the brothers’ faces fall.

“They… they didn’t make it, Y/N,” Dean murmured, jaw tight. “We- we only lost Bobby a few weeks ago, actually.” His voice was low and gruff, and you swallowed hard.

“Oh,” you replied thickly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s voice was heavy with sorrow, and you skittishly tucked your hair behind your ear as his words sunk in and weighed on your heart. Suddenly, your eyes shot up to meet his as you latched on to the one thing he hadn’t explained.

“You- you were only gone for four months?” you checked, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah..?” he replied slowly. You set your jaw.

“And you didn’t think it would be a good idea to, oh, I dunno, let me know that you were alive?” you demanded, and guilt flared in Dean’s eyes at your words.

“I- I wanted to call, but you… you changed your number,” he said weakly, and you scoffed.

“You know very well you could’ve found me without that,” you shot back. “What the hell, Dean? All these years, I- I thought you were dead! In hell! Being tortured!”

Dean closed his eyes, and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. But with everything going on… Lilith and the seals… I thought you’d be better off without me. You’d finally found a normal life for yourself, a good life for yourself, you… you got a second chance at all this, Y/N. I couldn’t ruin that for you. I’d never be able to live with myself.”

You clenched your jaw, but his voice melted your heart. Even after all these years, he knew exactly the words that would make you crumble. Besides, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stay angry at him - not after missing him for so long.

“That should have been my choice,” you said softly. Dean nodded.

“I know,” he murmured.

The three of you fell into a long silence, and by the time Sam cleared his throat, you’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Uh- look, the reason we’re here…” he began, and you sighed shakily, snapping back to reality.

“The werewolf, right?” you checked, and he nodded.

“Yeah. You have any leads?”

You chuckled. “Sorry to burst your bubble, boys, but I ganked that son of a bitch last night. No more case - sorry.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise, as did Dean’s.

“What happened to the normal, apple pie life and all that crap?” Dean asked, and you managed a smile.

“You really think I’d ignore a werewolf attack in my own street? Of course I took care of it,” you teased, and he huffed an amused sound.

“Right. Right… I guess we should… uh… I guess there’s no reason for us to stay here, then,” Dean muttered, but his hopeful eyes found yours. You licked your lips nervously.

“I mean… you guys can stay a bit longer, right? Catch up? You- you can crash here for a while, if you don’t have anywhere to be. I’ll bet it’s nicer here than any motel you’ve stayed at for a while, right?” you suggested, and Dean grinned.

“Yeah, I’ll say,” he said with a snicker, and you smiled warmly.

“Great. Awesome.” Another silence. Your eyes found Dean’s, and your heart skipped a beat as you lost yourself in their depths. They seemed… different. Older. Wiser.

“Well… I feel like walking,” you announced, getting to your feet. Your eyes wandered to Dean. “Do you feel like coming? I’d really like to talk, I mean… it’s been a long time.”

He flashed you a half-smile as he nodded, pushing himself up. “Make yourself comfortable, Sam - the wifi password is on the router if you need to do any research or anything,” you said, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah, great - thanks, Y/N,” he said, and you left him to sort himself as you and Dean made your way onto the street. The two of you walked for a bit, skin soaking in the sunshine as your feet thudded on the pavement.

“Nice place you got,” Dean said eventually. “Nice neighbourhood,” he added, nodding to the flourishing greenery, the kids kicking a soccer ball in the nearby park. “You- you seem really happy here.”

You smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s really nice. It was nice to get away from it all, you know? Hunting, I mean. I got a second shot at a normal life. And it’s... good,” you told him, and he smiled tightly.

“Yeah. Well, I… I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “Wow, long time no see, huh? Four years…”

Dean nodded, whistling. “Time flies, huh?”

You half shrugged. “I guess,” you allowed. “Sometimes, it… doesn’t feel like it. I- I still get nightmares. About the night the hounds- well, I’m sure you remember.”

Dean chuckled dryly, and you could hear the pain behind his words as he responded. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Four years, and I still cry sometimes. Kinda lame, right?” you asked weakly, and Dean shook his head.

“No, I get it,” he said. “They say you never forget your first, right?” he said, shooting you a cheeky grin. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. First loves never die, all that. I never expected mine to die and come back,” you teased, and he laughed quietly.

“Yeah.”

You watched him for a moment.

“You seem… older,” you remarked. Dean snorted.

“Gee, thanks,” he said sarcastically, and you shook your head, traces of a smile ghosting over your lips.

“No, I mean… your eyes. You’re, what, thirty-two now? Thirty-three? You don’t seem it. Before, you were just a boy who was trying to fill his dad’s too-big leather jacket. Now… you’re a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

He chuckled darkly. “Yeah, well, forty years in hell will do that to ya,” he joked, but it fell flat. Your eyes widened.

“Forty years? But I thought… four months…” you spluttered, and Dean nodded.

“Up here, yeah. But downstairs time moves... differently.” You saw Dean’s jaw twitch, and before you could process exactly what he’d gone through, Dean was changing the subject.

“Well, I’ve spent a long time wondering what you were doing, who you were seeing…” He glanced at you slyly. “Found any guys who can compare to me?” he asked, shooting you a wink.

You sniggered, but shook your head. “No… I’ve been on a few dates here and there, but… honestly, I’m not sure I can ever love again,” you murmured, before chuckling to yourself. “God, that sounds lame, doesn’t it?”

Dean shook his head somberly. “No, I get it. Believe me, I get it.” His eyes were soft, trained on you as you tucked your hair self-consciously behind your hair.

“Ever wish you could go back to it?” you asked. “Back to when… everything was easier? When it was just us and Sam and whatever the monster of the week was?”

Dean smiled fondly. “Yeah. All the time. Things have changed a lot, huh?”

“I’ll say,” you murmured. “But… I guess it’s all worked out, right? I got my second chance, here. You got yours. Hell, Sam even got his. It’s… it’s good, isn’t it?”

He sighed. “Sure,” he murmured. The two of you reached a park bench and sat together, the tree branches an interwoven canopy above you as you rested your feet. Dean’s knee bumped yours, and even after all these years, the contact sent sparks flying across your skin. You glanced at his face, and found yourself snared in his gaze as his eyes locked on yours. He exhaled shakily.

“Y/N… I’m sorry I never came to find you. Really,” he said, and you gave a sad smile.

“It’s okay. I get it - I do. I probably would have done the same,” you told him. His hand found yours, warm and large. You interlocked your fingers and squeezed gently. “But I’m glad you’re back. That you’re alive.”

You felt tears spring to your eyes and blinked them away, laughing and rubbing at your eyes before they could fall. Dean’s hand caught your wrist, and he leaned forward to gently wipe a stray drop from your cheek. His eyes bore into yours, and suddenly he was kissing you.

Dean’s mouth was soft and tender on yours as you leaned into him, tasting the salt of your tears as his hand moved to rest on your cheek. Your hand fell to his chest, gripping the tie of his suit as you pulled him closer, falling into old rhythms as easily as breathing - when he kissed you, it felt like you’d never been apart. Like those four years had never happened, that when you opened your eyes you’d be the way you once were - bright-eyed and hopeful... back in that room... striving to save him from-

You pulled back abruptly, and Dean licked his lips, ducking his head.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“No, it’s not- it’s not that,” you said. “Dean…” You sighed heavily, and he ran his thumb over the back of your hand gently, eyes searching yours and imploring you to continue.

“The reason I’ll never love again… it’s too terrifying, Dean. I- I haven’t let anyone in since you, because I’m terrified that I’ll lose them. Like I lost you. That’s why- us, it can’t… we’d never work, not anymore. It’s why I can’t go back into hunting. I couldn’t risk losing you, not like that. Not again,” you whispered. “I- I’ve got something good here. We both got our second chances, without each other, and I think… I think we should take them.”

Dean’s eyes fell closed, and he withdrew his hand from yours, pinching the bridge of his nose as he nodded.

“Yeah. I get it. Trust me, I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“No, don’t apologise,” he said. “You’re right. We- things are different now.”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t ignore the pain squeezing in your chest. It felt like your heart was breaking as he got to his feet, rubbing his jaw absentmindedly.

“Well… we should probably get back,” he said, shooting you a tight smile. You exhaled, plastering a smile on your face in return.

Your walk back to the house was silent, and the moment you entered, Sam was speaking quickly - something about a lead on the leviathans, that they had to go, now-

“Okay, okay, Sam, calm down!” Dean said slowly, rubbing his temple. “I… you two finish up, I’m grabbing a glass of water,” he said, heading to your kitchen.

You and Sam say your goodbyes, and although they’re hurried, they’re paired with a warm hug and empty promises to keep in touch. He made his way to the Impala as you stood in your entryway. When Dean returned, his face was set in a smile a little too wide to be totally genuine.

“Well, it… it was great seeing you again,” he said weakly, and you nodded.

“Yeah. You too. Stay safe, alright?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, yeah… you too, y’hear?”

You smiled, genuinely this time. “You know me, up to all sorts of mischief these days,” you teased, and he chuckled before pulling you in for a hug. You buried your face into his neck, clinging to him desperately and wishing the moment could last forever. But of course, it didn’t, and when he pulled away, his hand found yours. He squeezed it gently, and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Seeya, Y/N.”

“Seeya,” you managed, watching as Dean walked to the Impala and slipped into the passenger seat. The car roared to life, and you leaned against the doorway, raising your hand up in a half-wave that Dean returned as he pulled away from the curb. You watched as the sleek black car rolled down the street, and when it vanished from sight entirely, you unfurled your clenched fist to see the piece of paper Dean had stuffed into your palm before he’d let go.

A phone number was scribbled on it, and you couldn’t help but smile at the message scrawled beneath it.

Just in case - we deserve a second chance, too.

_________

Forever tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting @bee-happy-buzz-on

Dean tags: @polina-93 @justagirlinafandomworld @coupleofgoons

If you wanna be added to any tag lists just let me know!

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aceldrake · 4 years

Text

Why wont he love me?

Im standing in the kitchen. My back is straight, and I'm chewing on my thumbnail. I do that a lot, chew on my nail until I bleed. The sting is a distraction. A small distraction. nothing can dull out the sense of dread that spreads through my entire body. numbing my nerve endings. This happens every day, at a half past 4 .Me standing in the kitchen trying not to panic. Because it means I have one hour. 60 minuets to myself before he pulls into the driveway. 60 minuets before the garage door hums into life and begins its slow decent upwards. 60 mins before he walks across the garage, opens the door and steps into the house. Our house...No. His house. It's his. Everything is his. He doesnt allow me to stake claim to anything. Everything is his. 60 mins to enjoy the calm and peace. 60 mins left of the kids being happy and content. 1 hour of pain free, anxiety free, solitude. 1 hour before my husband come's home. I hate it when he's home. He's tired and annoyed, and if I dont have a hot meal on the table....and I wont...hes going to be angry. He's always angry. I think my mere presence pisses him off. The way I look, or maybe the way I don't look...shit. I knew he'd notice the 3 pounds I put on over the holiday's... the way I talk...he hates me. I dont know why. I cant figure out why he cant stand me. I'm his wife, shouldn't he love me? take care of me? protect me? But he doesn't. hes the most painful part of my life. He gets off on hurting me. And I deserve it, I think? Im not sure, Honestly. He says I do but he never tells me WHY I deserve it. Just that I do and ive just started believing it. Maybe its true, maybe its not. but there is no point in arguing with him about it. That just makes him even more upset, which just makes it hurt that much more. Better to just clench my teeth take it and pretend it didnt happen. Bruises fade, bones heal. Cuts and scrapes scab over and eventually disappear. The scars hes left...at least the physical ones...are easy enough to tuck out of site. The lies I tell myself and others flow freely from my tongue, and eventually I can convince myself that they are, in fact, truths. I love him, thats all that matters, right? Thats the only thing that is important. I love him. I've always loved him. I can love enough for the both of us. My affection and constant, unwavering loyalty makes up for everything. I'ts my fault. I should have hugged him tighter. Kissed him harder, deeper. With more passion. I shouldn't have faked that orgasm...or at the very least, I should have been more convincing. It's my body, not his performance thats the problem. He's good in bed...amazing. Hes never not been able to satisfy his partner....its my fault. Silly me, of course its my fault.

A toddlers shriek of excitement makes me jump. I glance at the clock...five thirty...my mouth goes dry. Oh god. Hes home. I stare out the front window and my blood goes cold. His red car is in the driveway. Hes still seated in the drivers seat, head bent. Hes on his phone, probably telling Her to give him a few personal minuets and then , Yes. She can come over. At least when shes here he only hurts me with his words. Thats a small comfort. Im frantically hurrying around the living room, trying to clean, trying to tidy up the mess the babies have left in the living room. Stupid. How could I lose track of time. The house has to be clean before hes home. Its a requirement. His requirement. The door opens. I freeze. I hear him scuff. He takes off his cover. His boots....Pulls his belt out of the loops and toss it over the arm of the couch. The same routine every day. Come in. Strip in the laundry room, so his uniform can be freshly washed before work the next morning. I remain in the front room, still on my knees, hand froze over the toy bin.

Hes mad. Hes pissed. I can hear it in the way hes banging around the laundry room. Is he mad at me, or was work just particularly rough today...Ether way, im paying the price for it. I quickly take stock of my body....flexing muscles. Legs are sore...left arm fine. Right arm still throbbing from two days ago. My head will probably be fine, but I guess it depends on how rough he is. Maybe a concussion or hopefully, if im lucky, it will just be ringing in my ears and a headache. I take a deep breath and stand. My hands fist nervously at my side.

I walk around the corner and my words die in my throat. The expression on his face says everything. He glares at me and goes to the fridge, opens it, and pulls out a beer. My blood is ice inside my veins. White noise in my ears. I turn, grab my babies and hurry them upstairs. My hands shake and I drop the ROKU remote twice before I can get the TV working and a cartoon playing. I raise the volume as high as their little ears can handle, and hope that its loud enough. I kiss their sweet, innocent little faces, my lips tremble but I fight back the rising panic. I close the door behind me, swear under my breath when I hear my sons soft voice cry out in protest and his sister plead with me to stay. I close my eyes and bite down on my lower lip. I hate doing it, but it has to be done. For their safety. I lock the door. Effectively sealing them inside the master bedroom. If they are locked behind a door, they wont see it. They wont see what I know is about to happen. They wont get in the way, and he wont hurt them. I dont think he would ever intentionally hurt them, but accidents happen and I'm not willing to take that risk. I would never really know if it was an accident or not. Cant risk that. I stand at the top of the stairs. I force my mouth into a smile and make my legs move. My home is a nightmare. My husband hates me. And I dont know why.

#domesticviolence #spousalabuse #panic #pain #fear

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cocochannel00 · 5 years

Text

Accidents

In which Harry gets into an accident and (Y/n) doesn’t know if he’s ok...... some major angst and fluff ahead

It was finally the weekend and you couldn’t wait to spend the day snuggled up to Harry in your nice warm bed. It was about 9 am when the sunlight finally invaded your room, causing you to wake up. You let out a small groan as you stretched your body out. You began to shift quietly in bed before a pair of arms snaked themselves around your waist and tugged you closer to his chest. Harry buried his head of curls into the crook of your neck and let out a loud grunt.

“Good morning to you too” you mumbled back quietly as you snuggle closer into his embrace.

“Morning love” he whispered back, closing his eyes once more.

“I want to stay like this all day but first I really have to wee” you stated as you tried to untangle yourself from Harry with little success.

“Five more minutes” he mumbled.

“Harry I’m going to piss the sheets, let me go please” you replied back, continuing to struggle.

“We can wash them” he mumbles back before you whack his arm.

“Harold that is disgusting! Let me go H” you replied more firmly as he groaned and released you.

You ran to the bathroom as quickly as you could. Once you were done you went to brush your teeth at the sink. As you were about to put the brush in your mouth Harry’s phone rang.

“Please don’t pick it up, H” you yelled from the bathroom.

“Love it’s Jeff, I have too” he replied back quietly.

“No H don’t do it. It’s our day off! I want you all to myself... naked under the sheets” you mumbled as you walked back in the room, toothbrush in hand just as Harry picked up the phone with an apologetic smile.

“Hey, Jeff... no no, I was awake don’t worry... yeah what happened?” Harry spoke as you rolled your eyes and walked back to the sink. Once you had finished brushing your teeth you washed your face quickly and headed back to your room only to find Harry putting on a pair of light washed jeans.

“Nooooo Harry you promised not to go anywhere today” you complained as you walked up to him and ran your fingers over his butterfly tattoo.

“I know love, I know but some of the software at the recording studio glitched so I have to go in and record some bits. They need the demo done by Monday” he stated as he held your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and giving you an apologetic smile.

“Harry you always do this. All I asked for was a single day of just you all to myself. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. I canceled my morning shift to spend the day with you, can’t you do this tomorrow” you replied back, getting upset with him.

See this wasn’t the first time that Harry had ruined your cozy days alone. Last time it was because Mitch had come up with a new bridge that Harry wanted to try out. That time he had been gone nearly the entire day leaving you to sulk around the house and wait for him. You knew something similar was going to happen this time around. Usually, you wouldn’t even be this upset about the situation, but Harry had spent the last month in Tokyo trying to write his new album and you missed him. He was the one that wanted to do the lazy day today which only added to your fury.

“No I can’t (Y/n), Jeff asked me to come in today so I’m going in today. I’ll be back soon, I promise” he tried to reassure you, but you were having none of it.

“Harry, don’t make promises you very well know you aren’t going to keep. I haven’t spent more than a couple hours with you in weeks. I had the whole day set up.” you replied back becoming slightly more agitated.

“I wouldn’t say choosing a movie and having sex is exactly planning the day” he stated as he pulled away from you and shrugged on a t-shirt.

“Well then you can forget about the sex today then since I guess it isn’t important” you replied back as you walked past him and began to strip off the sexy pajamas you were wearing and putting on some comfy clothes.

“(Y/n)... you know that’s not what I meant. You’re being a bit unreasonable and frankly a bit of a bitch.” he retorted as he slipped on his loafers and his hat.

“You know what Harry Styles, fuck you. Go record your song, heck fly back to Japan for all I care. You clearly don’t want to be here” you stated, anger and disappointment boiling in your veins.

“Great maybe I will. Look I’m already late so I’m leaving, don’t wait up for me” he announced as he grabbed his car keys and headed out the door.

You were fuming at the moment and the only thing that could calm you down right now was a cold shower. After your shower, you decided to finally tackle your laundry pile you had been procrastinating for a while. For lunch, you had leftover Chinese food from the night before while watching Friends and by the time 6 rolled around you were tired out from all your pent up anger that day. You decided that you were going to take a power nap so you put your phone on Do Not Disturb and set a timer for an hour. You curled up in your bed with one of Harry’s hoodies as you drifted off to sleep.

Your alarm softly blared in the background as you groggily opened your eyes and began to stretch in bed. Groaning softly you sat up in your bed before walking over to turn off your alarm. After shutting it off you saw about thirty texts from your friends and 10 missed calls from Jeff and Anne. As you were about to call them to see what was happening you got a twitter notification saying that #praysforHarry was trending. Your heart sank into your chest. What had happened? Was he ok? What was going on?

As your heart raced you shakily pressed on Jeff’s contact. The phone rang twice before he finally picked up

“(Y/n) where are you?” Jeff asked frantically.

“I’m- I’m at home. Jeff, what's going on? Harry was supposed to be with you at the studio?” you stated softly, your voice cracking slightly.

“He left early. Said he needed to be quick so he could go back to you. Was on my way home when I got a call from St. Thomas hospital, said I was the emergency contact. Harry was in a car crash, (y/n). Apparently, he was at an intersection and a drunk driver crashed into his car. The drivers dead at the scene. Harry was taken to the hospital and I’m here now, but they won��t tell me anything. Anne is coming but I thought I would-” Jeff but you zoned him out.

Harry. Your Harry. Your Harry was in an accident and you didn’t even know. You were shaking aggressively as you held back sobs.

“(Y/n), (y/n)- hey, are you still with me?” Jeff yelled through the phone, snapping you momentarily from your trance.

“Ye-yeah I’m... I’m here” you whispered as you slowly began to hyperventilate.

“(Y/n) I need you to breathe ok? Gary is going to be outside your house in five minutes so he can drive you here ok? Breathe, just breathe. He’s in good hands, ok? Your friend Jackie said that she was going to be one of the nurses in the operating room and that she would take care of him.” Jeff tried to reassure you.

“He’s- he’s in surgery?” you asked as you tried to calm your breathing down.

“Yeah went in about a half hour ago. Ok, (Y/n), Anne just go here so I’m going to hang up. Gary should be there any minute now, ok? He’ll be fine” Jeff stated before mumbling a quick goodbye and hanging up.

Of course, he had to get hurt today of all days. The only day this entire week that you weren't working at the hospital and the only day the two of you had argued. You cautiously ran your fingers through your hair as a car horn sounded outside. Quickly you slipped on one of Harry’s old sweaters and grabbed your sunglasses from the counter before placing them in your backpack and running out the door.

The car ride to the hospital was quiet as you shuffled through your bag looking for your nurse's badge to get you in the building faster. As Gary pulled up to the front entrance you saw the flashing of cameras through the tinted windows. You put your sunglasses on to block the flash as well as to hide your swollen eyes from all the crying you had been doing on the way here. Gary carefully guided you into the building before you ran into the building before stopping at the secretary's desk.

“Eileen where is he? What room is he in? Where is Harry?” you asked the old woman.

“Oh (Y/n), sweetheart I’m so sorry, Love. Let me check that for you. What’s his last name and date of birth again?” She asked you with a sympathetic smile.

“Styles. Harry Styles. S-T-Y-L-E-S. Birthday is February 1, 1994″ you replied quickly as you fiddled with your badge.

“Ok, love, here we go. He’s currently in operating room 4, no status report I’m afraid, but his private waiting room is room 53c,” she stated softly.

“Thank you, Eileen” you replied as you ran to the elevator.

Once you stepped out onto the fifth floor ran down the corridor and made a left before making to his waiting room. You swiped your card and cautiously walked in. Many of Harry’s closest friends were already in there as you spotted Anne in the corner next to Gemma, a cup of tea untouched in her hand. You made your way to her as she gave you a small teary-eyed smile. You sat next to her, grabbing her hands as you gently placed her tea on the coffee table.

“Anne I- I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have I- I should have just let him go and now he’s here and, and I-” you began as tears streamed down your face.

“Shh (y/n), Oh darling come here,” Anne said as she wrapped you in her arms. “This isn’t your fault love, none of it is. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. You had nothing to do with it” she stated as you continued to argue with her.

You ultimately gave up and ended up curled up next to Anne before Nick came over with a cup of water for you an hour or so later.

“Have you heard anything yet by chance?” Nick asked cautiously as he rubbed a hand up and down your arm. You shook you’re head.

“Jackie texted me saying she would try and get me an update during the operation but nothing yet. I think I’m going to try and go down there in a bit to see” you mumbled as you wiped at your eyes with the sleeves of Harry’s sweater.

“(Y/n) that might not be the smartest choice. Maybe we should wait for the Doctor to update us here” Nick offered.

“No, I can’t wait here not knowing anything. We don’t even know if he was conscious in the ambulance! I’m going down, I’ll be back in a bit” you replied as you gave Anne a quick squeeze before making your way down to the operating room.

You made it down to the second floor where he was getting operated in before you carefully walked into the seats of the operating theater. There he was. The love of your life laid on the operating table with a breathing tube down his throat as the team of doctors worked on him. You had to cover your mouth to prevent the sobs from coming out. You recognized all the doctors and nurses working on him and you spotted Jackie in the corner grabbing another pint of blood before hooking it to his IV.

You carefully walked over to the speaker before pressing the intercom button.

“Dr. Marcos, it's (Y/n) (Y/l/n), can you tell me how he’s doing?’ you asked cautiously as the man looked up quickly from Harry to see you up in the view dock.

He quickly motioned for Jackie to go up and see you as he pulled down his masked, “He’s in good hands (Y/n), don’t worry.” he stated sending you a small smile before returning back to Harry.

Jackie walked into the room where you stood and wrapped you in a tight hug. You nearly collapsed into her arms as you sobbed.

“Hey, hey (y/n) relax for me, breathe. They’re just finishing up on him. He’s had a bit of a rough time, I won’t lie, but his breathing has been stabilized and we’ve stopped most of the bleeding.” she stated.

“He’s he going to be okay?” you asked her. Jackie gave you a sympathetic look.

“You know I can’t give you that answer. As of now, he’s stable” she mumbled as you squeezed her tighter.

You were about to ask her another question when you heard a chorus of shouts and beeping from the operating room. You saw a flat line on the monitored and nearly felt your own heart stop. Jackie quickly placed you in a chair before running to the speaker and turning off the operating room microphones and putting the black screen up so you couldn’t see anything.

You thought your heart had stopped at that moment until Jackie jerked your arm harshly, grabbing your chin in her hand so that you would face her.

“Listen to me (y/n), ok? He’s in very capable hands right now and they are going to do everything, EVERYTHING they can to save him and help him. He’s a strong man. We both need to have some faith in the doctors, ok? As soon as he’s stabilized again they’ll page me.” she replied as you emotionlessly nodded your head.

As you sat there in the small theater chairs you recalled all your good memories with Harry. Your first date at the tiny record store down the street from your old house, your first kiss on the edge of the boardwalk, your boat ride in Paris, your first Christmas together curled up on the couch watching movies. Every memory you had ever made was quickly coming back to you as you realized that your greatest fear could come true; those could be the last memories of you and Harry. As you lost yourself in thought Jackie’s pager rang, a sigh of relief leaving her mouth.

“He’s stable. They’re finishing up the last stitch right now and he’ll be placed in a recovery room. I told you all you needed was a little faith” Jackie stated with a soft smile as you through yourself into her arms and sobbed.

“He’s ok, he’s ok. Oh thank god, I don’t know what I would have done without him” you mumbled as you tried to catch your breath.

“He is (y/n), don’t worry. Now we're going to clean you up a bit and then would you like to tell everyone upstairs that he’s ok? He’s quite the popular boy” Jackie chuckled as she carefully helped you up.

“Yeah, I can do” you whispered, a small smile on your face as the two of you walked to the closest bathroom.

After washing your face with cold water and Jackie putting some of her concealer under your eyes you gave Jackie a quick hug and let her go see the rest of her patients. Jackie had given you all the information you were allowed to share with everyone upstairs. Harry had just been moved to his room and was currently fast asleep (would probably still be for a couple of hours) as was currently stable. You walked up the stairs to the fifth floor before carefully knocking on the waiting room door, closing the door behind you softly as you came in. Everyone’s attention turned to you as you gave them a hesitant smile and tried to hide your hands in the sleeves of your sweater.

“Umm, so Harry he- he’s stable. Just got out of surgery and is currently asleep in his room. Can probably visit him in ten minutes. Umm, his umm his heart stopped at one point during the surgery but they were able to resuscitate him. He’s fine now though” you spoke.

Once you were finished talking the crowd of people began to murmur to each other with a mix of relief and worry. Anne ran up to you and squeezed you into a hug before leaving the room with Gemma. You walked over to the table in the corner to get yourself a cup of water as Nick came over and gave your shoulders a tight squeeze.

“Told you he’s strong, (y/n). You both are going to make it through this. I’m going to leave with the rest of our friends so you guys have some space. We’ll come see him tomorrow now that we know he’s ok” Nick states as he placed a kiss on your temple and you gave him a tight hug.

“Thank you, Nick. Thanks for being here, I’ll make sure to tell Harry” you spoke as Nick nodded his head and started to grab his coat. You gave a quick wave to the group leaving the room before taking a seat on the now empty couch.

He was ok. He was going to be fine. Everything is fine. You repeated these three statements to your self in the now empty room until Michael walked in. He gave you a small smile and handed you a cup of coffee you graciously accepted.

“Gemma and Anne are almost done talking to him so if you’d like you can go in” he announced, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as you sipped at the coffee.

You shakily took a deep breath and stood up carefully from the couch. Putting the cup down you gave Michael a tight hugged and thanked him for being here.

“Harry’s like family to me, I’ll always be here to support him and his family and friends” He replied.

You released him and carefully grabbed your backpack from the room before making your way down the corridor. Hesitantly you knock on his hospital room door before pocking your head in and seeing Anne and Gemma sitting on either side of him. All three of them turned their attention and the minute your eyes locked with Harry’s your eyes teared up.

“Hello, love” Harry whispered, he voice sounding quite hoarse.

A sob left your mouth as you closed the door and dropped your backpack on the floor. He had bandages all over his torso and on the side of his forehead. You could see a cast on his left foot and a large cut on his nose. Your sobs got louder as you stood frozen at the end of the room, hands over your mouth.

“Oii love, come here, (y/n). I’m ok, I promise” Harry whispered as he opened his arms slowly.

Anne carefully moved her chair away from the edge of Harry’s bed and gestured for you to come forward. You slowly walked towards him until you were inches away from his hand. Harry cautious held his hand out to you and you grasped it between your two hands, bringing it up to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles. He wrapped his free arm carefully around your waist and tugged you closely until you were essentially sitting on his bed. Gemma and Anne said there quick goodbyes before leaving the room. Once they had left you began to speak.

“How- why did you-u... what happened baby?” You asked as Harry made some room for you on the bed.

“Well I don’t remember much but I know I was trying to come home early so that I could surprise you and apologize for being a wanker. Everything after that is a blur, I remember starting to turn left but then the other car hit my side and everything goes blank” he replies as he fiddles with your fingers.

You nodded your head before bitting your lip and looking down at the cast on his foot. Harry gently placed his hand under your chin to lift it up so that you would look at him.

“Hey, I’m alright. Everything is just fine. The doctors said that besides the scare in the operating room everything else was much less severe then they expected. All I have to do is take it easy for a bit and-” he started before you cut him off.

“Oh no, I’m putting you on bed rest for at least a week. You’re not moving off our bed mister. Do I make myself clear?” you replied while running your hands softly through his hair.

“Of course Nurse (Y/n), anything for you” he replied back with a small smirk as you softly wack his none injured arm before snuggling into his side.

The two of you laid there in silence for a while as Harry ran his hand through your hair slowly. You had been contemplating whether to ask Harry the question that had been mulling over in your head since you made it to the hospital. You promised yourself that if he made it out of this ok that you wouldn’t hesitate to tell him but now you were chickening out. Harry could sense you progressively getting tenser so he carefully turned onto his side to look at you.

“(Y/n) what’s wrong?” He asked as you bit your bottom lip harder. You stared up at him cautiously before blurting out

“Marry me”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Harry smirked and stated, “well I would but last time I checked you're supposed to be in the white gown and not me”.

“Harry I’m serious” you replied back with a stern face, tears threatening to follow as Harry quickly wiped the smirk off his face.

“I know love, I know. I am too. Hey, no tears now, yeah? Can’t have the love of my life in tears” he whispered softly.

“I- I - when I saw you on that table flatlining I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the things we would have missed out on... our wedding, the birth of our kids, graduations, birthdays, holidays together... all of it. And -and I promised myself I would ask you if you made it through and-” you rambled as Harry cut you off with a delicate kiss to your swollen lips, trailing them across your face to kiss your tears away.

“Shh, darling its all over now. My answer yes. Yes I’ll marry you and we're going to buy that house down near Brighton that you love to look at on our way to the beach and we’re going to have the most beautiful and amazing kids and their going to look just like me” he rambled with a smile as you shook your head softly at his antiques.

“Before all that, though I have one request” he announces as you scrunch your eyebrows together.

“What?” you replied back as you stared down into his eyes.

“Got to let me propose properly, yeah? I want to do it right, down on one knee and everything but you got to give me a little time to heal up though... and you got to give me your ring size” he stated sheepishly, a blush rising up to his cheeks.

You smiled brightly at him and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Size 7, but I’m in no rush as long as I have you here with me now” you whispered softly as you brushed back his hair.

“I love you” he whispered to you.

“I love you too Harry” you replied back before kissing his plump lips softly.

_______________________________________________

So I won’t lie I started writing this like two week ago, but I have been so busy that I just didn’t have a chance to finish and it's probably not my best work but hey it’s done! With that being said I love to hear from you guys so let me know what you think and let me know if you have any requests!!! Hope everyone had a lovely weekend!

#harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles preferences #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles stories #harry styles fanfic #Harry Styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles fandom #harry styles masterlist #harry fluff #harry angst

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uncultureddirt · 5 years

Text

Day Zero (Part 1/4) - Park Jisung (Post Apoc!AU)

~REQUESTED~

“I hope she can trust me.”

Warnings: language, implied violence

Escape. Escape is not a single noun or verb. Escape is not something defined by a highly educated red man who decided to print it in a thick book to educate a population. No, escape is not something heard or read, escape is felt.

You had done it. You were feeling it. With each foot pushing into the flaky dirt you were moving far away from captivity. You were moving closer to freedom. You were escaping and you couldn’t look back. The dark room loomed in your mind as you ran. You could still feel their cold hands pulling you from your mother, the numbers inked on their skin and thieving souls stripping you of your food and clothes. You swore you could hear it, their calls surrounding you at every angle.

“That little shit’s stealing! Grab her!”

“Just close your eyes, it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“Don’t let her out of your sight.”

You shook your head as you sprinted, trying to expel the dark words. The blood and sweat mixture dripping from your face began to dampen the collar of your shirt. You didn’t care; a stained shirt was the least of your problems.

“Just a bit longer y/n. We’ll be safe soon,” you whispered to yourself in between breaths.

You were flying over the dirt. You had never run this fast in your entire life. Hours ago you had thrown yourself through a window and for a short while, you felt invincible. You beat them and you were going to survive. But after miles in a full sprint, your body gave in. Your body couldn’t be healed by a confident mentality. You needed to rest, but you couldn’t. Not just yet. Your muscles could no longer forge forward and the cuts which polluted your body stung with the exposure to the sharp night air. Your body collapsed in front of a small shed.

“No. Don’t die. Not now. We’re so close. Get inside. Y/n get inside.” Your mind was throbbing, moving in sync with the beat of your tired heart. You dragged yourself up to stand and limply pushed open the door. Fear finally hit you and became rampant inside of you. Your weakened state made you a key victim, a state of prime vulnerability. Once inside, your eyes scanned the small building. Leaning against the door to close it, you began to shut your eyes. Everything in your body began to slow as you felt safe. It was empty; you were alone.

“Who the fuck are you?” The voice shook you and your eyes burst open. Into your vision came a dark-haired mousy looking boy. He held a rifle in his hands. And speaking again, “I said who the fuck are you?” His confidence was a mask of his own fear. He stared at you intensely, hoping you wouldn't strike at him. But you couldn’t sense his fear over your own. Attacking wasn’t an option, he had a rifle, and you knew better than to try anything funny.

“Please don’t hurt me. I don’t have any weapons.”

“Who are you with?” He said with his gun still help up firmly in his grasp and furrowed his brows deeply.

“Nobody. I swear. I just escaped Tartix. Please don’t hurt me.” Your eyes fell to the wood floor as they began to well. Your body was at the height of its tolerance and you fell to your knees. You could only withstand so much emotional and physical exhaustion at a time. You could not go anymore. Your voice broke as you repeated your words, “Please don’t hurt me.”

His face flinched at the name ‘Tartix.’ His eyes began to look sorry and he lowered the gun. His defense fell. There was no reason to hurt a victim. He looked at you up and down and then spoke in a low voice, “You’re hurt.”

“It's a few cuts.” You wiped the tears dripping down your face, trying to conceal your pain.

“They did this to you?” he came closer, “the Tartix guys?”

“You know them?” You looked up at him, confused. He wasn’t going to hurt you?

He didn’t answer, he only continued to examine you. “Your clothes are a mess.”

“I know,” you said softly. You watched him lift up your arm and wince at the rip in your coat which exposed a large wound.

“Follow me.” He turned around and began to walk towards a room in the back in the shed.

He brought you to a small room and began to dunk a dishtowel in a tin bucket of water. You sat down in the chair before him and breathed deeply as he pressed the cool towel on your face. He was silent as he cleaned your cuts. He met your eyes once and you spoke, breaking the silence that stiffly pervaded the room.

“Thank you.”

He viewed the towel in his grasp, noticing the blood had prominently decorated the fabric.

“You needed it. What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“I’m Jisung. Sorry, this place is a dump.” He turned around and began to wring out the towel and put it in a crate. Dirty laundry, you hoped.

“It's nice. Better than where I was”

“I think anything's better than that.” He attempted to smile softly. Turning around again, he opened up a box, pulling out a black long sleeve and thick flannel. “Take these, they’re warm and don’t have holes all over them.” He laughed lightly as he handed them over. The simple gesture was something your life had been vacant of for too long. You almost failed to react.

“I can’t take these they-”

“You need them more than I do.” You eyed the stack of clothing in his hands and agreed. He was right. Your clothes were rags, covered in dirt, blood, and holes.

“Thank you.”

He sat down on the floor across from your chair, leaning against what seemed like a bed. Jisung dragged his hand through his messy black hair, exposing his forehead. You felt your stomach tighten as he leaned his head back. A small panic overtook your body while you watched him. When he turned his head away from you, it became even clearer. At the side of his neck was the number 23 sloppily printed in black.

You tried to ignore it but each time you looked at him it's all you could see. That damn number. Was he with them? That gang who kidnapped you? Was he one of them? The men who broke you down until you gave up everything you had? Survival meant that you would do anything to stay alive, though Tartix took the “at any cost” to an extreme. The want, no, the need to kill anyone who got in their way wasn’t a motto, it was a simple norm of their life. The boy who you just allowed to clean your cuts and give you clothes couldn’t be with them. He couldn’t.

Your thoughts were whirling that night. Jisung had given you his bed, volunteering to sleep in the next room on the floor. Though you silently feared him, having no clue of who he really was, you were thankful for his current acts of kindness. Could he be trusted? Despite the fatigue plaguing your mind and body, you couldn’t sleep. You lay face-up on the heap of blankets staring at the darkness above you. You had no clue whether it was okay to put your guard down again or not.

Maybe he was going to take you back to them. His kindness was just a blanket on your cold and tired body.

Jisung mirrored you in the next room. His back ached as it pressed against the cold wood, but that wasn’t what was keeping him up. His heart hurt. He felt sorry for you. How many people had Tartix taken? How many people had they broken? Your broken face was imprinted in his mind and he suddenly felt the need to get up. He walked into your room and stood in the doorway. It was pitch black, but he felt that there was a possibility that you weren’t asleep.

“Y/n?”

“Yes?” You were awake.

“I’m sorry about the gun.” And with that, he left to once again huddle on the floor, hoping to become fall asleep, even if only for an hour that night.

You slowly sat up in the bed composed of old sweaters and blankets. Despite its haphazard appearance, it proved to be cozy for the time you spent in it. You didn’t remember falling asleep that night. You thought your brain was too invested in thought to allow itself to rest. The air was stiff inside that back room. Your eyes sifted through each corner, noting the stacks of boxes filled with various items. You stood up, deciding you needed some real air and began to walk towards the door. You slowed as you approached the front room, Jisung wasn’t there. You tilted your head slightly, but headed outside anyway.

“Oh. Uh, hi. Good morning,” you said, feeling slightly alarmed to find Jisung sitting on the single step outside, “I didn’t know you were out here. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I, um, I can go back in-”

“No, you can stay out here with me. Being in that place can be suffocating sometimes.” He looked up at you and smiled softly.

You sat down next to him and tilted your head back, letting the sun fall directly across your face. He began to speak again, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you stared up at the sky. “I'm sorry if that was a lame excuse for a bed. I hope you slept alright.”

It was the first bed you’d slept on in years. Whether an enemy or ally, you weren’t sure yet, but you wanted to believe the latter. To not be scared and by yourself just felt so… nice. Besides, it’d been a long time since you had anyone you could call a friend. Maybe you would entertain the friendship, at least for now.

“It was great. I really don’t know how to even thank you,” you exhaled deeply, “there's just so much fear in this day and age that sometimes it can get really tough going through all of this alone. So thank you. I needed a reminder that I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t what?”

“Alone.”

You both sat there letting the sound of the wind fill the stillness. There was something about silent company that could feel so comforting sometimes. A vocal connection can only mean so much, for it’s the connection that two souls feel when welcoming each other’s mere presence to be just as fulfilling as a conversation that a bond can truly strengthen.

You counted the days, watching the rise and fall of the sun as it would be replaced by the night. The world which was once full of dead grass, abandoned vehicles, worry, and sadness was now all replaced by it. Companionship. Replaced by him. Jisung.

Nothing ever came up about the tattoo on his neck. Perhaps it was just a tattoo after all. Perhaps there was no affiliation to the forsaken group who had abused you for so many years. From what you saw, Jisung didn’t have a single bad bone in his body. Maybe he wasn’t the greatest cook, and maybe he was a little bit awkward at times, and maybe he wasn’t the most organized person, but he had a good heart. You could tell that much.

You would spend the nights around a tiny flame of light. The small glow flickering upon his face, smiling at you as you spoke. You would talk about your fears, your wants, your life before the world turned itself inside out.

“Life before Day Zero.” You laid on your stomach, resting your head on your hands.

He looked over at you, “If only I knew you before this mess. We would've gotten along well. I mean not that we don’t now it's just-”

“Différent. I know.” You finished his sentence because you knew what he meant. You knew what he felt.

There was an understanding between you two which made talking easy. Thoughts flowed effortlessly among you. It all made sense. It was almost as if you’ve known him your whole life. You spent your time alone thinking of his deep voice and the words he would say. There was something comforting about it, like a song playing sweetly in your ears.

“I'm kinda tired Jisung. I think I'm gonna go to sleep.” you said standing up and brushing off the front of your shirt.

“Okay,” he stood up with the candle in his hand, “It's a bit dark, don’t trip over all my shit.” He snorted at his own heckle.

“I’ll try not to, even though it's everywhere. It's like a maze to get to the back room,” you said back jokingly.

He lit the path for you. Following slowly behind with the candle, “Y/n,” he whined your name, “don't make fun of my home.” He began to laugh again.

Before walking directly towards the bed you turned around in the doorway. Your face was slightly below his as you watched the candle flame flicker in his eyes. At that moment you felt slightly in awe over him. His soft features paired with his strong jaw were emphasized in the dim yellow flame. There was something so boyish, yet so gentle and sweet about him.

“Your home is lovely. Goodnight.” You smiled and turned around, walking further from the flame and deeper into the darkness.

“Goodnight y/n.” he replied softly.

Your sleep was abruptly halted. You felt large hands gripping your arms, shaking your body aggressively. Your eyes shot open, heart pounding in your chest, fearing what you would see when you opened them. The room was dark and you saw a dark figure above you. The lighting blurred out any details to help you identify the person. It could only have been Jisung, right? But if it was, why was he so frantic? And as your eyes began to adjust to the night you made out his face.

“Jisung?”

He was panting, and voice sounded rushed, almost fearful. “We gotta go. I'm serious, get up now. We gotta go y/n.”

You stared up at him with wide eyes until you heard it. A noise you never wanted to wake up to ever again. A noise that made you think back to your time in that cold and dark room. Your time before Jisung. A noise that made you feel fear for the first time since you dragged yourself to his little shed in the middle of the night.

Boom.

A gunshot.

To be continued...

71 notes · View notes

buoyantsaturn · 5 years

Text

I’m in Hell (4/?)

summary: Nico and Will are in love! But what else is new.

word count: 14,888 (60,660 total)

read on ao3 | read part three | read part two | read part one

Will was dead on his feet. He usually felt pretty tired whenever he got home from work, but something about that night made him feel even more exhausted than usual. He considered himself lucky that he even remembered how to get home, and which key would let him into the house - okay, he hadn’t, and had tried just about every key on the ring before he finally managed to unlock the door. He was even confused to see someone sleeping in his bed because the very concept of having a boyfriend had slipped his mind, but at the same time, Will was too tired to be worried about someone - who was that, Nico? - being in his bed.

He stripped out of his clothes, too tired to look for pajamas and resigning to sleep in his underwear instead, and laid down. Almost instantly, Nico curled up against his side, throwing a leg over one of Will’s and laying an arm across Will’s stomach, and Will had a sudden sense of comfortable familiarity. This made sense, he thought. Nico belonged there.

Nico pressed a kiss to Will’s chest before dropping his head on Will’s shoulder. “G’night, Sunshine,” he mumbled.

Will hummed. “Night, Darlin’.”

He felt Nico tighten his hold on him as he whispered, “I love you,” against Will’s skin.

Will fell asleep with a smile on his face.

Nico’s words rang through Will’s head as he slept, eventually waking him up after too few hours of rest. Will groaned as he opened his eyes, rolling onto his side and curling around Nico in the hopes of chasing after just a little more sleep. I love you, he heard, but not in his own voice. That wasn’t Will fighting not to say those words where Nico could hear him, and it wasn’t Will whispering those words into the top of Nico’s head when he was sure the other was asleep. That was Nico’s voice, Nico’s words that he’d pressed into Will’s chest like a kiss.

“You love me,” Will whispered, hoping that saying the words aloud would help him to process them better. “You love me.”

He watched every minute shift of Nico’s expression as he started to wake, his eyes blinking open slowly and meeting Will’s gaze. “Will?”

Will loved him. “You told me you love me.”

“Huh?”

Will pressed his lips to Nico’s. He loved him so much. “You love me!”

Nico hummed. “I guess so,” he said, sounding much more awake after the kiss.

Will kissed the tip of his nose, then the bridge, up to his forehead, repeating with each kiss, “You love me!”

Nico reached up with both hands, grabbing Will’s cheeks and drawing him back for a proper kiss. “I love you, Sunshine.”

“I love you so much,” Will replied, resting his forehead against Nico’s.

Nico kissed him again, soft and slow, licking his way into Will’s mouth and tangling his fingers in his hair. Will felt like he could kiss Nico every second for the rest of his life. He loved him!

They didn’t move from the bed for another hour, content to lay in each other’s arms until Will’s stomach started growling, finally motivating them to move. Still, they could barely keep their hands off each other - it was like the night that they’d shared their first kiss among many. Will wanted to keep Nico within arm’s reach, and Nico couldn’t seem to let two minutes pass without kissing him.

Nico had never been in love, and being so immersed in Will’s love was like a constant high. He’d felt love before, sure, but from his friends and family, never in a romantic sense. Even when he’d convinced himself that he was in love with Percy so long ago, he knew it wasn’t really love. This love that he felt for Will was true and pure and passionate, and best of all mutual. Everything that Nico felt for Will, Will felt for him, and knowing that made Nico’s heart swell.

He cooked omelets for the two of them, and regular scrambled eggs for Bianca. After breakfast, the three of them moved to the couch for some Saturday morning cartoons. Nico sat down beside Will and was immediately pulled across his lap, his arms wrapped around Nico’s waist to pull him close. Had it been anyone else, or had it even been just a few days earlier in their relationship, Nico would have fought against being manhandled in such a way. Instead, he rested his head against Will’s chest and intertwined his fingers with Will’s, relaxing completely into the hold.

God, he was so in love.

Will had resigned himself to the fate of never sleeping again. His scheduled shifts meant nothing anymore, since he was always asked to stay later than scheduled, or he would get caught by an incoming trauma as he was trying to leave. So far, his record for consecutive hours spent at the hospital was sixty-three, due to his accidentally falling asleep on an unused gurney in the middle of a hallway between shifts. He really scared Nico when he did that, though, so he’d made sure never to do that again, at least not without sending a text first.

There was one evening where Will had gotten home just after Nico and Bianca had finished up dinner, and Nico had told him immediately to go to bed. Will tried to argue, as he always did at times like these, but his constant yawning wasn’t very persuasive. Nico had to actually push him down the hall and into his room, only for Will to drag Nico onto the bed with him.

“If I have to go to sleep, then so do you,” Will insisted, rolling on top of Nico and effectively pinning him down.

“You’re a child,” Nico told him, trying to be stern though he ended up laughing. Nico wriggled around until he managed to flip their positions, straddling Will’s stomach and pinning his wrists to the bed.

Will smirked up at him. “I thought you wanted me to sleep. This definitely feels like something else.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “No, I actually want you to sleep.” He started to climb off of Will’s lap, but Will wrapped his arms around Nico’s waist to pull him back down.

“Don’t you wanna stay here and cuddle with me?” he asked with a pout.

“No, I don’t.”

“I think you do.” Will rolled them until they were on their sides, and he curled up against Nico’s chest with a contented hum, like he was ready to fall asleep right then and there.

Nico shoved at his shoulders. “Alright, fine, I do. But somebody needs to make sure Bianca goes to bed on time, and since you need to sleep, that somebody has to be me. I’ll come back as soon as Bi’s all settled in. Don’t wait up for me, okay?”

Will pouted again but released his hold on his boyfriend, falling onto his back and draping an arm over his eyes dramatically. “No promises.”

Nico rolled his eyes again and stood up. “Goodnight, Will.”

“We’ll see.”

There were still two hours before Bianca’s bedtime, so Nico had brought out his laptop and glasses, prepared to spend just about every second of those two hours on his homework. He ended up setting an alarm on his phone to remind him to send Bianca off to bed because he knew that if he didn’t, they would both be up half the night.

However, even when Nico’s alarm went off, he was too focused on proofreading to acknowledge it, and ended up sending Bianca to bed about half an hour late. He’d pretty much forgotten about his promise to Will, too, and worked on his manuscript for another two hours before he couldn’t think straight anymore. It was only then that he finally forced himself off the couch and into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Nico had been living out of a duffel bag of clothes that he kept in the guest room - he went back home every weekend to see his sister, do laundry, and switch out the clothes he brought over - and so he went there to change before walking across the hall to Will’s room.

He tried to be quiet as he slipped into bed, but Will seemed to wake up anyway as soon as Nico lifted the covers. He pressed himself against Will’s side, draping an arm across his stomach, resting his head on Will’s chest, throwing a leg over Will’s and pressing his cold foot against Will’s calf. “I told you not to wait up for me,” Nico reminded him.

“I never promised,” Will mumbled into the top of Nico’s head before placing a kiss there. “And you’re late. Really late.”

“I was busy. I--” Nico groaned, burying his nose in Will’s collarbone. “I killed Mary. It was the only way to move things forward, but she was myfavorite.”

Will set a hand on the arm Nico had resting on his stomach. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Nico lifted himself up so that he could gaze down at Will in the dark. “Bianca’s friend from school, Mary, I killed her and buried her in the backyard.”

Will reached up and patted Nico’s cheek tiredly. “Babe, I’m so tired that I don’t know if you’re being serious or not, but please tell me you’re not serious.”

“It’s my book, Will,” Nico said, his smile clear in his voice. “Mary was my favorite character, but there was no way for the plot to move forward unless she died.”

Will pulled Nico back to his chest. “Thank god. Lead with that next time, would you?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Go to sleep.”

“I love you,” Will said, and Nico hummed in response. “You love me,” he tried again, and this time Nico’s hum came out as more of a grumble.

“I guess I do.”

Will kissed the top of his head once more. “You know you do.”

It was that time of the week again that Nico needed to go back to his own apartment. He needed to do laundry, sure, but he also hated leaving Hazel alone for so long. He hardly ever spoke to her during the week, and the seemingly sudden change of seeing his sister every day and then practically never was sometimes too much for him to handle. As much as he wanted to spend all of his time with Will, he wanted some alone time with Hazel, too.

Even if she teased him mercilessly every time he came home.

He’d gotten home while she was still at work - at some kind of witchy, cultist shop that let her sell her own jewelry - so he had some time to himself as he started his laundry. When Hazel finally walked through the door, the first thing she said to him was, “Oh, do you still live here?”

Nico rolled his eyes. He was in the kitchen, searching through the cabinets and fridge and freezer, trying to find something he could make for dinner. “It doesn’t look like anyone lives here. Where’s all the food?”

“You always did the grocery shopping, you tell me,” Hazel replied.

“Oh. Right.” He went back to the cabinet, pulling out a few assorted items before deciding, I can do something with this. “You should probably start buying your own food.”

“Why?” Hazel asked. “Planning on moving out permanently sometime soon?”

Nico felt his shoulders hunch up defensively. “No. Maybe.”

Hazel jumped up behind him, setting her hands on his shoulders and shaking him. “Are you going to ask if you can move in?”

“No way!” Nico shrugged her off so that he could cross the kitchen and start making dinner. “That’s like… That’s like if I invited myself to a party at his house, except permanent. He’s got a kid, so it needs to be solely his decision. I don’t want to pressure him into it, either.”

“He wouldn’t say no.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nico sighed. “I dunno, am I even...ready for it? How do I know I’m not jumping into something too quick?”

A moment of silence passed between them as Nico set a pot of water on the stove to boil. “So, I started dating Frank in high school, right? He already knew that he was going into the army before we’d ever even met, so when we started dating I realized that if we really got serious, then I would have to learn to deal with dating a soldier. Whether that meant we would have a long-distance relationship, or we would have to get married right away, and I wouldn’t have a choice as to where I live. All that really freaked me out at first, you know? But I love him, and he loves me, and if he wants to get married in a few months so that we can live on base together, I’m not going to say no.

“I know it’s different for you because you and Will haven’t been together as long, and I know he hasn’t told you that he loves you, but he does--”

“He does love me,” Nico cut in. “He told me a few days ago. And I said it back.”

Hazel punched him in the arm. “That’s the kind of stuff you tell me! When it happens, not days later! But now I’m even more certain that you should move in together! Just think about how much easier it would be: he wouldn’t have to ask you to come over, you wouldn’t have to keep lugging your dirty clothes back here--”

“I’d already be gone when Frank moves in, so I’ll be out of your hair,” he said teasingly.

“Who said anything about Frank moving in?”

“You literally just told me that you’re planning on marrying him. He doesn’t have anywhere else to go once he graduates, why wouldn’t he move in?”

Hazel huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Alright, you got me. But I haven’t asked him yet.”

“I don’t think you need to. Or, it’s not much of a question anymore. Not will you move in with me? but I kicked my brother out so we’ll have the place to ourselves when you get here.”

“I’m not kicking you out,” Hazel told him.

“I know you’re not, but I’m certainly not going to be a third wheel in my own home.” He tapped his fingers on the counter before he turned toward his sister. “Okay. If Will doesn’t ask me to move in with him before Frank graduates, then I’ll ask him.”

Hazel stepped up to him and pulled him into a hug. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Nico’s arms closed around her. “Me too.”

Sometimes, Will still couldn’t believe that he could just walk up to Nico and kiss him. He would wrap his arms around Nico and tell him he loved him, and Nico would say it back. Almost every night he got to fall asleep with Nico in his arms, and almost every morning he woke up to that same beautiful sight. But he didn’t want almost, he wanted every.

There was one night where Will had fallen asleep beside Nico, but woke up to an empty bed, only to find Nico in the kitchen cooking breakfast. It smelled like he was making french toast, and it looked like the shirt he was wearing was one of Will’s - he was almost certain Nico had never owned such a bright yellow shirt.

Will walked up behind him, slipping his arms around Nico’s waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. “Good morning, Darlin’.” A quick glance at the clock on the stove told him that Nico must have already taken Bianca to school, and that he still had a few hours before he needed to leave for work.

Nico tilted his head to the side, making room as Will started to kiss a path up his neck before mouthing at the skin just beneath his ear. “Breakfast isn’t ready yet.”

“Maybe I don’t want breakfast,” Will whispered into his ear. “Maybe I want you.”

“Well, maybe I want breakfast,” Nico told him, shrugging his shoulder to knock Will away. “And then, maybe, you can have me.”

Will hummed, tightening his hold on Nico. “I like the sound of that, but I really just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“You should work on your phrasing.” Nico took a moment to scoop the piece of french toast out of the frying pan and onto the stack plated on the counter. He set the spatula down, shut off the stove, and turned around in Will’s arms, lacing his fingers together behind Will’s neck. “What’s up, babe?”

Will took a deep breath, his hands moving to rest on Nico’s hips, and he smiled down at him. “I want to ask you something.” Slowly, he lowered himself down onto his knees, pulling Nico’s hands from his neck to hold between them.

“Will--” Nico started, his eyes widening.

“Nico,” Will cut in before kissing along Nico’s knuckles. “I know it hasn’t been long, but--”

“Solace,” Nico tried again, uselessly trying to tug his hands from Will’s grasp.

“I know it hasn’t been long,” Will repeated, a little louder in the hope that Nico wouldn’t try to interrupt again, “but I love you so much. I love waking up beside you every morning, and I love that yours is the last face I see before I fall asleep. I miss you so much when you’re not right there beside me, and I don’t ever want to sleep without you again. Will you move in with me?”

Nico shoved him back so hard that Will landed on his butt. “Oh my god!” Nico exclaimed, tugging at his own hair as he took a few steps back. “Will, what the hell is the matter with you?”

“What? What did I do?” Will asked as he righted himself back onto his knees.

“You--! On your knees!” Nico practically screeched. “I thought you were proposing!”

“Technically it is a proposal, in a way.”

Nico stepped back toward him, taking Will’s face in his hands and forcing him to look up at him. “I thought you were asking me to marry you.”

Will grinned. “Maybe next week.”

“Will--!”

“None of this has been an answer.” Will rose back to his feet, his hands covering Nico’s on his cheeks, his thumbs stroking across the backs of Nico’s hands. “Move in with me. You can say no - it might break my heart, but you can - and we don’t have to do anything now. Do you want some time to think--”

“No.”

Will’s expression dropped. “Oh.”

“No, I don’t want to think about it,” Nico finished. “I do want to move in, just...not right away. And I have a condition.”

Will breathed out a sigh of relief and he knocked his forehead against Nico’s. “Anything.”

“Redecorate the bathroom.”

Will flinched back in surprise. “What?”

“You have a beach-themed bathroom. I hate beach-themed bathrooms,” Nico told him. “I refuse to permanently live in a house that has one.”

“I had no idea that that was such a problem for you, but I would have redecorated a month ago if it got you moved in here sooner.”

Nico fell forward into Will’s chest. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

“I just told you I would redecorate!”

“Not that--” Nico groaned. “The proposing! You were proposing, don’t tell me you didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, well you’re an asshole, too,” Will argued. “I thought you said no!”

“You could’ve just asked like a normal person. You barely even had to ask at all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nico wrapped his arms around Will and squeezed. “I told Hazel that if you didn’t ask, I would. You had two weeks before I asked you myself.”

Will grinned. “You were going to invite yourself to live in my house?”

“Only if you didn’t! And it’s our house, now.”

“Move in, and then I’ll call it our house.”

It was rare that Will wouldn’t see Nico’s car in the driveway when he got home from work, though sometimes it was to be expected when Will wasn’t working his usual hours. However, after five in the evening Will assumed he would be entering a noisy house but instead found it empty, save for a full suitcase he found in his bedroom.

He could only guess at who the suitcase belonged to, and his suspicions were only confirmed when he entered the bathroom to find the walls bare and counters ridded of the few beach-themed decorations that had been there.

Will left the bathroom in search for his phone, ready to call Nico and see where he and Bianca had gone off to, when the front door opened. Will came around the corner to see his two favorite people walking into the house with their arms full of grocery bags. He pressed a kiss to the top of Bianca’s head before taking the bags from her hands and setting them on the counter, then swooped in quick to kiss Nico square on the lips.

“Hi, Darlin’,” Will said when he pulled away, and Nico replied, “Hey, babe.”

“Are there any more groceries you want me to get out of your car?” Will offered, but Nico shook his head.

“Thanks, but we got ‘em all,” Nico said. “I’d let you help me put everything away, though.”

“Of course.”

Will took the bag of fresh vegetables and walked over to the fridge, about to start putting them away when Nico said, “Wait! Not those, leave those out for dinner.”

He set the bag back on the counter and turned to help Bianca instead. Once the last of the boxes were put away in the pantry, Will reminded Bianca that she had homework to finish up and so she went to her room to do so.

Will hopped up on the island, kicking his heels softly against the cabinet doors and watching Nico’s back as he expertly sliced the vegetables he’d had Will leave out.

“So…” Will started when Nico’s cutting ceased. “The bathroom looks a little different.”

He could see Nico’s smile when he turned slightly to grab a pan to set the vegetables in. “Well, we had a deal, didn’t we?”

“Would that explain the suitcase I found in my room, too?” Will asked innocently, and he watched Nico’s smile twist into a pout as he spun around to face Will fully.

“Your room? Did you ask me to move in just so I could go back to sleeping in the guestroom?” Nico said while crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sorry, of course not.” Will reached forward, grabbing a hold of one of Nico’s arms, and pulled him closer. “Our room.”

Nico beamed at him before darting up to kiss him, resting his hands on Will’s thighs. “I only have clothes so far, and I didn’t unpack anything yet because I didn’t wanna mess with your stuff without you, but maybe we can do that later tonight?”

Will didn’t reply immediately, only gazing softly at his boyfriend.

“What?” Nico asked.

“I love you,” Will told him.

Nico rolled his eyes. “I love you too, you giant dork.”

After Bianca went to bed, the two adults made their way into their newly shared bedroom, Will throwing open the closet doors and Nico going straight for his suitcase at the foot of the bed.

“Well, the good news is that I have plenty of space in the closet for you to hang some stuff,” Will told him. “The bad news is that I’m all out of hangers.”

“I’ll buy some tomorrow,” Nico replied. “What about dresser space? Could you try to clear out a drawer for me?”

“I can try, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make much room,” Will said. “And you’re going to need more than one drawer anyway.”

Nico sighed, feeling dispirited as he stared down at the still-full suitcase. “There’s an empty dresser in the guest room right? We could move it in here.”

Will dropped onto the floor next to him and pressed their shoulders together. “There’s a few things in there that I’ll have to find a new place for, but yeah, we could do that. Might be too big and loud of a job for tonight, since I don’t want to wake Bianca, but maybe tomorrow after I get home from work? I hate to make you live out of a suitcase for a little while, but--”

“I’ll survive,” Nico replied, tipping his head to rest on Will’s shoulder. “I probably should have run it by you before I started bringing stuff over, anyway.”

Will kissed the top of his head. “Don’t worry about it, Darlin’. I’m just happy that you’re finally here to stay.”

Nico smiled. “Me too.”

The next night, they emptied out the dresser in the guest room and moved it across the hall into their bedroom. Nico emptied out his suitcase, putting away most of his clothes in the newly acquired dresser while Will hung the rest of the clothes with the hangers Nico had bought that morning. When they had finished, they collapsed on the bed together and planned when they would get the rest of the Nico’s things out of Hazel’s apartment, eventually deciding on the next Friday, when Will would be off work early enough to pick Bianca up from school.

That day, after Nico dropped Bianca off at school, he drove to Hazel’s apartment, letting himself inside with the key he still had attached to his keyring. Hazel had already left for work by the time he got there, so he had the place to himself while he gathered up his things, throwing the last of his clothes into the suitcase he’d brought with him and tossing small miscellaneous items into old grocery bags.

He’d tied his hair up at some point to get it out of the way, but even then his hair kept falling into his eyes. When Hazel had finally returned home and noticed him packing, she found herself annoyed by him constantly blowing the hair out of his eyes after just a few minutes, and so she’d forced one of her headbands into his hair.

It wasn’t long after that that Will and Bianca came to the door, knocking even though both Nico and Hazel had told them in the past to just walk right in if it was unlocked - Nico was always immediately put on edge by the sound of knocking, ever since Bianca’s death, and this time was no different. Once the Solaces were inside, Nico had started describing all the packing he’d already done and was trying to tell Will what could be taken down to his car, but when he looked up he saw Will smiling dopily at him.

“Will?” Nico said. “Are you listening to me?”

“Sure, yeah,” Will replied. “But I’m a little distracted by how cute you look right now.”

Nico felt his face heating up, and the burning only increased when he heard Hazel laughing from across the room. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon, you know I love that stubby little ponytail you have,” Will said. “And the headband makes it even better. You’re very cute, Darlin’.”

Nico shoved at him, slightly less gently than he normally would. “Shut up. Just… Hurry up and load this stuff into your car so that we can go home already.”

Nico had been doing work for his classes non-stop for about a week. His final essays and short stories and manuscript were all due in a span of three days, and if even one of them wasn’t finished on time, he wouldn’t graduate.

There was one day where he locked himself away in the guest room after dropping Bianca off at school. He spread out on the bed with his laptop and notebooks and printouts of assignment requirements. He had his glasses on and a glass of water next to him on the nightstand. He was ready to spend the entire day on these assignments, locked away to avoid any distractions - except for the fact that his phone kept ringing. He only kept his phone on him in case Will called, and he had the ringer turned on so that he could listen for the specific ringtone he’d set for Will. What he heard instead were Annabeth’s, Hazel’s, and even Leo’s for some reason.

When Hazel had called him a second time - just when he couldn’t withstand his hunger any longer - he finally answered just to tell her to leave him alone for the rest of the day. She’d managed to tell him to check the group chat for once in his life before he hung up on her.

He didn’t really have the time to scroll through an endless sea of texts from his friends, but he figured it wouldn’t kill him to take a break from his essays while he ate a sandwich. As he expected, almost every text sent in the last day was about him: first, Jason had asked Hazel to wish Nico good luck on his exams, then came a long string of texts from the others telling Hazel to do the same for them. Nico glared down at his phone when he read the text from his sister.

FROM: Hazel; i would if he still lived here

This, of course, set the others wild. What do you mean he doesn’t live with you anymore? Where did he go? He didn’t pick up his phone, is he okay? I haven’t heard from him in a month!

When he finished his sandwich, he shut his phone off. Could he not have one day to himself without having his friends pester him for details about his life?

He completely forgot that he’d kept his phone with him in case of a call from Will as he abandoned his phone on the counter and retreated back to the guest room. For another few hours, he was able to work in peace, managing to finish two of his final essays before he needed to refill his glass of water.

As he stepped out into the hallway, he heard a call of, “Nico? Are you here?”

“Yeah,” Nico called back, and he met Will halfway down the hall.

“I texted you, like, five times,” Will told him with a frown.

Nico felt his heart rate spike, and looked around frantically for Bianca. “Did something happen? Where’s Bianca, is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Will said quickly, setting his hands on Nico’s arms. “Everything’s fine. I just got a little worried when you didn’t text me back. Are youokay?” Will cupped Nico’s cheek in his hand, stroking a thumb under his eye.

“I’m fine,” Nico told him, and patted at his pockets in search of his phone. “I must’ve left my phone somewhere, I’m sorry, Sunshine.”

Will’s brow furrowed as he scanned Nico up and down. “What have you been doing all day? You look exhausted.”

“Gee, thanks, babe,” Nico said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s my classes. I’ve been working on my finals all day.”

“Oh. When are they due?”

Nico sighed. “Two of them are due tonight, but I already finished them, then I’ve got one due tomorrow and two the next day. I’m trying to get a headstart on the others, but I came out to get some water.”

“When was the last time you took a break?”

“Um…” Nico’s gaze drifted downward. “What time is it?”

“Alright, no more homework. Go sit on the couch and watch TV with Bi.”

“What? No, I can’t quit now, I have so much work to do!”

“Have you even eaten today?” Will asked, but before Nico could answer, Will continued, “Nope, never mind, I don’t want to know. I’m going to go make dinner right now, and you and Bi are gonna pick a movie, and you’re going to relax.”

“Will--”

“Nope! No arguing!” Will pulled him in for a kiss. “I love you. Let me take care of you.”

Nico huffed. “Fine.”

He allowed Will to lead him over to the couch and sit him down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before heading toward the kitchen. Once Nico thought that Will was completely preoccupied with cooking, he quietly rose from the couch - looking to Bianca with a finger raised to his lips to make sure she stayed quiet - and started back toward the guest room.

Just as he stepped into the hallway, Will appeared behind him and wrapped his arms around Nico’s waist, lifting him off his feet.

“Will! Put me down!” Nico cried, kicking his feet rapidly. “When did you get so strong?”

Will spun him around, only able to hold Nico aloft for a few moments, and led him back toward the couch. He sat Nico down again, though this time he turned to Bianca and said, “Don’t let him leave this spot, alright? I’ll be back in ten minutes, but if he tries to get up before I come back, shout for me, okay?”

Bianca nodded with a smile, proudly accepting her responsibility, and pressed herself against Nico’s side as she hugged one of Nico’s arms - like that would keep him down. Nico slouched in his seat with a huff loud enough for Will to hear on his way back to the kitchen.

In ten minutes, Nico was loading up a movie on Netflix - Bianca had picked it and Nico didn’t care enough at the moment to veto her choices - and Will was walking back into the room with three bowls - two large and one small - each filled with mac and cheese. After passing out dinner, Will took his seat on the end of the couch, sandwiching Nico in between the two Solaces.

For the next hour, Nico was hunting for any chance to escape. He offered to take their dishes into the kitchen with the hope of dropping them in the sink before sneaking off to the guest room. When he had gotten up, though, Will told him sweetly, “If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m going to hide your laptop on a high shelf.”

Nico groaned as he dropped the dishes in the sink. He dragged his feet as he made his way back to the couch, slumping back into his seat. Will draped an arm over his shoulders, pulling him into his side. Nico wanted to resist, wanted to hold a grudge like he was so good at doing, but he relaxed into Will’s hold. He couldn’t be mad at Will even if he tried.

Once the movie was over and Bianca was sent off to get ready for bed, Will pulled Nico even closer and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Go finish your homework.”

Nico twisted until he could look up at Will. “Huh?”

“Your exams,” Will said, “or essays, or whatever they are. You should go work on them.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. “This sounds like a trick.”

Will smiled. “It’s not. I just wanted you to take a break and eat something. I’m not going to be the one responsible for you failing your classes, how mean do you think I am?”

“You’re not mean.” Nico reached up and tilted Will’s head down for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Will told him. “Now get to work.”

He practically pushed Nico off the couch, and once he was on his feet Nico practically ran to the guest room. It took him a little while to get back into the groove of writing, but once he hit his stride it was like he would never stop. He’d just about finished another essay and decided that he would reread it after a quick bathroom break, only to have his way back into the guest room blocked once he left the bathroom.

“Will,” Nico said, standing in front of his boyfriend with crossed arms.

“Go brush your teeth,” Will told him, his voice breathy and tired. He was leaning back against the closed guest room door, his head tipped to rest against the doorframe.

“I have work to do,” Nico argued.

“You’ve been working for two hours.” Will blinked slowly, like it was hard for him to keep his eyes open. “You need to sleep, babe, and so do I.”

“So go to sleep, and I’ll meet you there.”

“No you won’t.”

Nico sighed, hoping to look like he’d given up. “Alright, fine.” He stepped back into the bathroom to brush his teeth, then returned to the hallway to see that Will had practically fallen asleep while standing up against the door. Nico grabbed his hands and pulled him into their bedroom, allowing Will to crawl onto his own side of the bed as Nico did the same. He tried to stay close to the edge, figuring that as soon as Will fell asleep he could slip back out and finish his paper, but then Will wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him toward the center of the bed, up against Will’s chest.

He waited until Will’s grip seemed to relax. Carefully, he shifted closer to the edge of the mattress, gently lifting Will’s hand from his stomach so that he could sneak away, but then Will’s hold strengthened once again. He drew Nico in close once more and whispered against the back of his head: “I was waiting for you to try that.”

When Nico finished his last final, all he wanted to do was sleep until everything was graded. He wasn’t sure how he would survive the next two weeks without dying from his anxiety. What if he didn’t pass? What if one of his papers was just bad enough that it kept him from graduating? He didn’t think he could survive another semester of writing stuff that someone else told him to write, even if it was just one class. He wanted creative freedom for once.

The day after he’d submitted his last final, Friday, he’d been so relieved and ready to relax that he wasn’t even anxious. Saturday was when the nerves hit, and all he wanted was for Will to come home and smother him with love and affection, but Will wouldn’t be home until sometime in the afternoon.

He was grateful to have Bianca as a distraction. She practically demanded they play video games until lunchtime. Then after they ate, Annabeth called to check in, which was another great distraction until she started asking about how his finals went. He was trying to tell her to just leave it alone until he got his grades, but then there was a knock on the front door.

Nobody had ever knocked on the door. Not once since Nico’s first day at the house in August. He froze, his voice cutting out, and he barely even heard Annabeth’s voice asking him, “Nico? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Somebody...knocked.”

He heard Annabeth take a deep breath. “It’s probably just the mailman, or something. You should answer it.”

Nico’s heart was pounding, his mind flashing images of his sister in his head - walking away from Bianca in the woods, opening the door to see Bianca in the arms of that drunk asshole, a nurse pulling a sheet over Bianca’s face as he lifeless body laid in a hospital bed. “But what if it’s--”

“It’s not,” Annabeth assured him. “That’s not going to happen again, Nico.”

The knocking came again, louder this time, and Nico flinched.

“Nico,” Bianca called from across the room, “someone’s at the door.”

He hesitated. “I’ll call you back.” He hung up the phone and started toward the front door, his legs stiff like they didn’t want to let him move. His hand was shaking as he reached for the doorknob, and his mind flashed to images of Bianca once again - only this time, when Nico opened the door, it wasn’t Bianca. It was Will, his body lifeless, his skin dripping with blood, his blue eyes cold and shattered like glass.

He felt a tug on his pant leg, and looked down to see Bianca standing behind him, gazing up at him curiously.

Nico wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and pulled the door open.

At first glance, it looked like the man on the front step was Will, but then Nico started to notice the differences. He was taller than Will by just a few inches, enough to see like he was towering over Nico. He had the same tan skin, but lacked Will’s freckles. He took off his sunglasses, revealing his blue eyes that were as cold as ice and nothing like Will’s.

“Can I help you?” Nico asked.

The man leaned in, resting an arm on the doorframe near Nico’s head, and grinned with too-white teeth. “Hello,” he purred, and Nico had the sudden urge to slam the door in his face. “This is Will Solace’s house, yes?”

Nico frowned, his hand tightening on the doorknob. “Who’s asking?”

“His father. You can call me Apollo. And what can I call you?”

Nico could detect the flirting in his tone. “Uninterested. Will’s not here, and I don’t think he’d like to hear that you stopped by, so I suggest you leave.”

Apollo laughed. “Now, I don’t doubt that. When might he be back?”

“Why don’t you leave and never find out?”

Apollo stepped closer, one hand shoving at the door and overpowering Nico’s own hold on it, and forced his way into the house. He leaned in until he was face-to-face with Nico, and said, “Why don’t you shut up and let me into my own son’s house?” He smirked when Nico recoiled, and continued into the house. “This looks like a lovely home,” he said from the kitchen as he took it all in, “but where is--” Apollo turned back to Nico and saw him hurry to shield Bianca behind himself. “--Ah. There she is. Hello, Bianca. I haven’t seen you since you were about six months old.”

Bianca shied away without responding, hiding herself further away behind Nico.

Instead of trying harder to get her attention, Apollo turned his focus away from her and started further into the house. “Which way would the bathroom be?”

“There’s a gas station about two miles down the road,” Nico replied. “I’m sure you can use theirs.”

“I’ll find it on my own, then.” Apollo started down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight, Nico spun around and crouched down in front of Bianca, setting his hands on her arms and whispering to her, “I want you to go play in your room, okay? Go to your room and close the door, and don’t come out until I come to get you. Can you do that?”

“Was that my grandpa?” Bianca asked quietly.

“That’s Daddy’s dad, yeah.”

“I don’t like him.”

Nico smiled, hoping it would be comforting. “I don’t like him either, Princess. Go to your room now, okay?”

Bianca nodded and started toward her room, Nico following closely behind her to make sure Apollo didn’t catch her alone. Once she was safely in her room with the door shut, Nico pulled out his phone to call Will. He didn’t expect an answer since he knew Will was still at work, so he spoke to Will’s voicemail instead.

“Will, this man showed up at the house and said he’s your father - tall, blond, blue eyes, he looks a lot like you. I tried to tell him to leave, but he shoved past me and now he’s inside. He said he’s here to see you, and I don’t think he’s going to leave until he does, so please, please come home soon, okay? I love you.”

He heard the bathroom door opening as he put away his phone, and he kept his eyes locked on Apollo as he made his way into the living room where Nico had been pacing. Apollo stopped directly in front of Nico and smiled down at him.

“See something you like?” Apollo asked.

“No.”

“That’s a shame, because I definitely like what I’m seeing.” He reached up, grabbing Nico’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting Nico’s head up.

Nico grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand away. “Do not touch me.”

Apollo sighed and stepped away, shoving his hands in his pockets as he started looking around again. “So, who are you to my son? Just the babysitter? The boyfriend? Not the husband, of course, I would have known if Will was married.”

“I highly doubt Will would tell you of all people if he got married.”

Apollo spun around with a raised eyebrow. “You think he told me his address? You think he told me that he was moving away from home, or where he works, or even what kind of car he drives? I know how to keep tabs on my children, Sweetheart, the only thing I don’t know about isyou.” Slowly, he started toward Nico again. “So. Babysitter? Boyfriend? Or just his little thing on the side? Will seems like the kind of boy to take after his father, don’t you think? As a matter of fact, I bet he’s hooking up with some nurse in a supply closet right now.”

“Shut up.”

“I never pictured him settling down with a man, either. I suppose I could still change that, if you’re interested.”

“Get away from me.”

Apollo grabbed Nico’s wrist and tugged on it until Nico fell against his chest, and Apollo wrapped his other arm around Nico to hold him there. “What are you going to do about it?” he whispered into Nico’s ear.

“I’ll call the police!”

Apollo slipped his hand into Nico’s pocket and pulled out his phone, then tossed it away. “Now what are you going to do?”

Nico thrashed in his hold in an attempt to escape, finally jamming his knee into Apollo’s crotch and finding freedom away from him. He fell to the ground and scrambled for his phone, managing to pull up the dial pad before Apollo got a grip on the back of his shirt and dragged him back to his feet.

“Get away!” Nico shouted, and the next thing he knew, Apollo dropped him.

He heard the sound of a fist hitting a face, and rolled onto his back to see Will throwing punches.

“Nico, call the police,” Will told him, shoving Apollo away.

“Nico, what a beautiful name,” Apollo said. “Italian, isn’t it?”

“Don’t talk to him,” Will spit. “Don’t look at him. Don’t touch him or my daughter ever again, do you hear me?”

Apollo started to laugh. “Your daughter, that’s adorable!”

“Will, what’s he talking about?” Nico asked.

“Call the police, Nico!” He focused his attention back to his phone and started dialing.

“William, you never told him?” Apollo asked, taking a step forward, but Will just shoved him back again. “Nico, you’re almost as much Bianca’s father as he is. The only person here who holds the true title is me.”

“I raised her, not you.”

Nico spoke their address into his phone, and repeated the words, “Please send help,” over and over until the operator agreed.

“Get out of my house!” Will started shoving him toward the door, but Apollo resisted.

“Can’t I say goodbye to my own daughter first?”

“She is not your daughter!” Will shoved him again. “Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to Nico, and never talk to Bianca, ever again. And get out!”

“Fine!” Apollo shouted in his son’s face. “I’ll leave. But believe me, I’ll be back someday.”

Sirens sounded outside.

Apollo grinned. “I suppose that’s my cue.”

Casually, he made his way outside, and Will followed after him to make sure he really left. Nico went to Bianca’s door, knocking softly before opening it a crack. “Bianca? You can come out now.”

Bianca came up to the other side of the door and whispered, “Is he gone?”

“Yeah, Princess, it’s safe now.” He pushed the door open wider and held out a hand for Bianca to take. He led her out into the living room and when they sat down on the couch, Nico pulled her into his lap.

“Where’s Daddy?” Bianca asked.

“He’s outside. He went to make sure his dad really left, but he’ll be back inside soon. I hope.”

Only moments after the words passed Nico’s lips, he heard the front door open as Will stepped back inside. He came to find them in the living room and sat down beside them, resting his chin on Nico’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around them both.

Will sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Nico said.

“What? No, you shouldn’t be--"

“I let him in the house--”

“You didn’t. If anything it’s my fault--”

“It’s not--”

“Daddy?”

Will took a deep breath, and reached up to brush Bianca’s hair away from her face. “Yeah, Bi?”

“Is that scary man gonna come back here?” she asked softly.

Will leaned closer to press his forehead to Bianca’s. “No, Bi, I promise. He’ll never come back here again.”

Nico watched as Bianca’s eyes started to water before she cried out, “I’m scared!”

Will pressed a kiss to her forehead. “There’s nothing to be scared about. We’ll keep you safe.”

“Will,” Nico started, “I’m not the most comfortable here right now either. I… I can call Hazel. Maybe we can stay with her tonight.”

Will nodded. “Yeah, let’s do that. And if we can’t stay with her, we’ll get a hotel or something. Just for tonight. Everything will be better in the morning.” He kissed Nico’s shoulder through his shirt before standing up and lifting Bianca off of Nico’s lap. “Let’s go pack a bag, Bi.”

Nico pulled out his phone and called his sister.

Nico let them into Hazel’s apartment with the key he had no intention of returning. Hazel came running from the hall and wrapped her arms around her brother as soon as she saw him. “Oh my god, are you guys okay?” she asked as she stepped out of the hug.

“Just a little shaken up,” Nico answered, “but we’re fine.”

“Thank you for letting us stay here tonight,” Will told her.

“Oh, of course! I was just straightening up Nico’s old room so it would be ready for you. I didn’t know if you wanted me to set up the air mattress in there for Bianca, or if she would sleep on the couch instead, so I left the air mattress folded up in Nico’s room for now.”

With another thank you from Will, he and Bianca made their way toward Nico’s old room. Nico handed his backpack off to Will as he passed, and Nico asked Hazel, “Have you eaten yet? I’m in a cooking mood.”

Hazel smiled. “You’re always in a cooking mood. Good thing I just went grocery shopping, huh?”

Nico usually didn’t let anyone help him in the kitchen, but he had too much on his mind to do everything by himself, so he allowed Hazel to step in every so often. She tried asking him a few times about what had happened, but Nico kept shooting everything down, claiming that he couldn’t talk about it yet, and changed the subject every time she asked. First to work, then to Frank, then to what she was going to do with Nico’s empty bedroom once Frank moved in.

“You did ask him to move in, right?” Nico asked. “We had a deal, didn’t we?”

“We had a deal about you leaving, not about Frank moving in,” Hazel clarified.

“Hazel--”

“I talked to him about it. He’s moving in as soon as classes are over, so not too long now. Anyway, what’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

Hazel came to stand next to him at the stove and elbowed him. “You know, you and Will. Any updates?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “I just moved in a couple weeks ago, what are you expecting? Do you think we’re gonna get married next week or something?”

“Well, I would say meeting the parents would come before that. Are you going to take him home to meet Dad? Or what about his parents?”

Nico raised an eyebrow at her, with a look of Are you serious? “Hazel. I just met his dad. Clearly that didn’t go well.”

Hazel smacked herself in the forehead. “Right, duh.”

“And you and I made a pact, remember? No going back until we’re both either engaged or married.”

“Oh, you were serious about that? I thought you were just being petty.”

“I was. But I was serious about it, too. You didn’t go back, did you?”

“No--”

“Good, I don’t want you going there by yourself.”

“I can handle myself, Nico.”

“I know you can, but I don’t trust him.” He hesitated before he spoke again, tapping his fingers on the counter in thought. “Do you think… Would you have been better off if you hadn’t come to live with us? If they had found another close relative to send you to, do you think you would’ve been happier?”

“I’m happy now, and I wouldn’t change a thing.” Hazel pressed herself against his back and hugged him from behind. “I may have gained a shitty dad, but I got a pretty cool brother, too.”

He reached over the stove to shut off the burner. “It’s done. I’m gonna go get Will and Bianca.”

Will had blown up the air mattress in Nico’s room because Bianca was still too shaken up to sleep in a different room. Will had gotten her settled into bed a short while before he and Nico started getting ready to sleep. By the time the two of them slipped into Nico’s bed - it was smaller than Will’s so they had to sleep closer together, not that either of them minded - Bianca was snoring softly across the room.

They laid on their sides, facing each other. Will held Nico’s face between his hands as he kissed him, again and again, before resting his forehead against Nico’s. “Are you going to be alright?”

Nico nodded carefully so as to not bump his head into Will’s. “I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten worse from my own dad. Are you okay? I saw you take a couple of swings at him. You didn’t hurt your hand, did you?”

“It’s just a little bruised.” He took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. See him. I haven’t seen him since Bianca…”

“Will, is she…? She’s not--”

“She’s not mine,” Will told him, and Nico saw his gaze fall away as he wrapped one of his arms around Nico’s waist to hold him closer. “She’s my half sister, and I’m her legal guardian. I’m the only dad she’s ever known.”

“What if… I mean, I could be her dad, too.”

Will chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

Nico groaned. “No, you’re right, it’s stupid. Never mind.”

“Nico, tell me what you’re thinking.”

He took a breath before he spoke. “When Hazel’s mom died, our dad was the only relative of hers they could find, so she was sent to live with us, regardless of how terrible my dad was. Is. Whatever. My point is that if something happened to you, where would Bianca go? Would she get stuck with Apollo? Or she could stay with me if I...adopted her.”

Will didn’t answer right away. When he did, all he managed to say was, “Nico--” before he was cut off.

“I told you, it’s a dumb thought. I’m-- It’s late, and we’re both tired. Maybe we should just forget I said anything and just go to sleep.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” Will whispered, rubbing his hand up and down Nico’s back.

“I know, but… But it might.” He lifted his hand to thread his fingers through Will’s hair. “The last thing I want is to lose you, but if I lost you and Bianca, I don’t know what I would do with myself.”

“I love you, too,” Will said with a smile. “Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

Nico sighed. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight.”

Will kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, Darling.”

Nico let himself relax against Will’s chest as his eyes slipped shut, and he started to drift off to sleep. Just before he succumbed to the slumber, he heard a whisper of, “You’re going to be a great dad.”

Will sat Bianca down on the couch the next night. He had a late-night shift for which he had to leave in about half an hour, but he wanted to be there in support of Nico as he talked to Bianca. The two of them had spent the morning talking logistics - was Nico really ready to adopt a kid? What did this mean for their relationship? It wasn’t just about Nico, either, but was Will ready to fully share his parenting responsibilities? - before they came to the conclusion that, yes, this was happening.

Nico sat down on the coffee table in front of Bianca and rubbed his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans. Why was he so nervous? Bianca couldn’t refuse him as her guardian, could she?

He cleared his throat before he spoke. “So, Bi.” His gaze flickered toward Will, who was watching over them from a few steps away, ready to jump in if necessary. “You know what adoption is, right?”

She nodded. “That’s like when a kid has no parents, so somebody takes him home and says they’re gonna be the parents now.”

“That’s close, yeah. It’s a little more complicated, but that’s not really important right now. So, uh, there’s a term for if someone is like a parent, even if they’re not actually your parent. It’s a legal guardian. They have all the same responsibilities of a parent, but they have to sign a lot of papers and talk to a judge before they can be a legal guardian. Is this making sense?”

This time, it was Bianca who looked toward Will, as if asking for an explanation. Instead of speaking, Will just tipped his head toward Nico to turn her attention back to him. Bianca shook her head no.

Nico took a deep breath. “Okay, um. I want to adopt you. So, I won’t really be your dad, but I could be, like, your almost-dad.”

“But...if you’re my dad, then what happens to Daddy?” Bianca asked.

“Nothing will happen to me, I’ll still be here,” Will assured her.

“You’ll have two dads - me and Daddy. Two parents. We’ll be a family.”

“Two dads? I thought a family had to have a mom and dad. Is two dads allowed?”

“Of course it’s allowed. A family can be whatever you want it to be - you and Daddy were are a family on your own right now, but I want to be a part of your family, too. Is that okay?”

“But...I thought you already were part of my family.”

Nico blinked. “You did?”

She nodded. “If I’m gonna have two Daddies, then how will I know which Daddy is which?”

“You can still call me Nico, if you want.”

“I’m still gonna call you Nico.”

He smiled. “So, does that mean I can adopt you?”

“Yeah!” Bianca exclaimed with a huge smile. “We’re gonna be the best family ever!”

They were sitting on the floor in the living room playing Candy Land when Nico got a phone call. His volume was turned up so the ringtone played loud and clear, and Will watched as Nico declined the call without even looking at the number.

“You don’t need to get that?” Will asked as he moved his game piece over the board.

“It’s just Annabeth. I’ll call back her later.”

Bianca drew a card and moved her game piece.

“How do you know it’s Annabeth?”

Nico drew a card as he replied, “That’s her ringtone.” He moved his game piece.

Will didn’t move to pick up a card, instead watching Nico curiously. “You have ringtones for everyone in your phone?”

Bianca held out a card to Will. “Daddy, it’s your turn.” Will took the card with a thank you, and moved his game piece to the appropriate tile.

As Bianca took her turn, Nico replied, “Just the important people.”

“So I have one.”

Nico drew another card - double red, nice - and grinned at Will after moving his piece. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I asked, yeah.” Will took a card and moved his game piece with a huff - back to the Peppermint Forest at the start of the board.

Bianca drew the next card, another double, and landed on the final tile. “I win! Nico, can we have celebration grilled cheeses for lunch?”

“How’s a celebration grilled cheese different from a regular one?” Nico asked.

“They’re for celebrating, ‘cause I won.”

Nico smiled. “Okay, sure.” He stood up off the floor, making sure to stuff his phone back into his pocket as he did, and stretched his arms over his head. “Can you put the game away please, Bi?”

As Bianca started picking up the pieces, Nico made his way into the kitchen, and Will scrambled up off the floor to follow him.

“Hey, wait!” Will called after him. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

“Nope,” Nico replied, popping the p in the word. He pulled out the bread, cheese, butter, a frying pan. He got to work buttering the bread as Will hopped up to sit on the island.

“But everyone has a different song.”

“Yep.”

“How do you choose?”

Nico slapped a couple of pieces of bread into the pan before laying cheese down on top of them. “Well, Hazel’s is Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend because she makes jewelry, and because she hates that song. Pretty much everyone else’s are either their favorite song from high school - which, for the most part, they hate now - or it’s some other song they absolutely despise. Except for Frank’s; his is Funky Town, which is a very,very long story.”

“How did you pick mine? You don’t know my least favorite song, do you?” Will asked.

“Why are you so curious?” Nico flipped the sandwiches in the pan with a spatula.

“It’s my ringtone, I want to know. C’mon, just play it for me.”

“Not going to happen, Sunshine.”

Will hummed as he slipped his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s see… You call me Sunshine all the time, so it must be Walking on Sunshine, right? Or You Are My Sunshine? Am I on the right track?”

“Not at all,” Nico replied as he plated the two sandwiches and started to make more.

Will scrolled through his contacts before he found Nico’s number and hit call. After a moment, Nico’s phone started to ring in his pocket.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy! Everybody says, save a horse, ride a cowboy!”

Nico turned around slowly, making no move to silence his phone, and smirked up at a very red-faced Will. “Are you really sure you wanted to know?”

Will hit end call and the song ceased. He hunched over, burying his face in his hands as he begged, “Please change it.”

Nico stepped up to him, standing between his knees, and pulled Will’s hands away from his face so that Will could see his bright smile. “Absolutely not.” He pressed his lips to Will’s before moving away again. “Should I make tomato soup?”

It was Memorial Day weekend. Nico had helped Frank move into Hazel’s apartment the weekend before, and while he was there he’d casually mentioned to Hazel how nice it would be for them to have a place all to themselves. Hazel had quickly taken the bait and offered to have Bianca over for another sleepover sometime, and Nico jumped on the opportunity.

That was how he found himself seated on Will’s lap on the couch with Bianca fifteen minutes away at Hazel’s place. Nico was shoving handfuls of popcorn into his mouth while Will kept trying to hide from the TV, usually by pressing his face into Nico’s shoulder.

“Shit!” Will exclaimed, slapping a hand over his eyes - his other arm was pinned between Nico’s back and the arm of the couch. “Why are you making me watch this?” he whined for probably the fifth time in the last hour.

“It’s a good show, babe,” Nico replied through a mouthful of popcorn, his eyes still glued to the screen.

“How can you eat while you--” Will peeked between his fingers and yelped at the sight on the screen before shielding his eyes again. “Oh god, are those intestines?”

“You’re a surgeon, Will, don’t you see a lot of intestines?”

“In an operating room! Not… Not out in the middle of somebody’s yard! That man is tied to a tree, Nico!”

“It’s a serial killer show, Will.”

“I can’t watch this anymore,” Will told him, and ducked his head to hide in Nico’s hair. “Tell me when it’s over.”

A few minutes passed before a the sound of a gunshot rang through the room, and Will’s head snapped up. “It’s over,” Nico informed him unhelpfully.

The show itself actually ended about five minutes later, and as the credits started to roll, Will announced, “You’re never allowed to pick what we watch ever again.”

Nico tilted his head back to look up at Will, bringing one hand up to thread his fingers through Will’s curls. “And what would you have gone with? Some lame documentary, or something?”

Will leaned down until his nose bumped against Nico’s. “I wouldn’t have had us watching TV, that’s for sure.” He closed the gap between them and licked his way into Nico’s mouth, fighting to press himself closer despite their odd positions. Nico moaned as he tugged at Will’s hair, and brought his other hand up to grasp at Will’s shirt.

The popcorn bowl fell from Nico’s lap and overturned onto the floor, sending popcorn everywhere and startling the two apart. Will groaned as Nico started to laugh.

“I’ll pick it up if you look for another show,” Nico offered, and Will rolled his eyes.

Nico slid off Will’s lap, careful to avoid stepping on any popcorn pieces and making the mess worse. He nudged at Will’s legs until he picked his feet off the floor and swung his legs up onto the couch until he was laying back against the armrest, and Nico scooped the larger pieces of popcorn back into the bowl to throw out later. He decided he would vacuum up the smaller pieces in the morning, and left the bowl on the coffee table before he crawled over Will to lay on top of him.

He held himself over Will, close enough to feel Will’s breath on his face but far enough that their noses didn’t touch. “Did you find something?”

Will grinned. “You’re going to hate it.” From the phone in his hand, he connected to the TV and started playing a new show.

Nico didn’t bother paying attention as he lowered himself to connect his lips to Will’s once again, kissing him slowly, thoroughly, before moving to his jaw. He mouthed along the jawline, then down Will’s neck. He tugged on the color of Will’s shirt with one thumb, his other hand slipping up underneath Will’s shirt to map out his abdomen with his fingers, and Nico bit down on Will’s collarbone.

“Hey!” Will jolted at the sudden pain, and pinched Nico’s hip.

Nico pulled back and smiled down at him, about to dive back in, until he heard a monotonous voice coming from the TV. He groaned and collapsed against Will’s chest. “No, you actually chose a documentary? Are you trying to put me to sleep?”

“Documentaries are interesting! And I’ve been wanting to watch this one for a while. C’mon, humor me. I watched your awful show, you can watch mine.”

Nico huffed and got comfortable on Will’s chest, head tucked under Will’s chin and turned toward the TV. Will set a hand on Nico’s back, rubbing up and down soothingly, only succeeding in relaxing and tiring Nico more and more with each stroke.

Every so often, Nico would make a soft noise, almost like a huh, that Will recognized as something he did when he was trying to keep himself awake.

“Nico,” Will whispered, and Nico hummed in response. His fingers twitched against Will’s stomach. “I love you.” Nico hummed again and rubbed his cheek against Will’s chest. Will nearly melted. “I wanna marry you.”

Will didn’t hear the words until they were already out of his mouth, but he wouldn’t have taken them back even if he could. He’d been thinking those words over and over in his head since the night Nico had asked to adopt Bianca, but he never thought he would say them out loud. He needed to talk to Nico about it for real, not just an offhanded mention while talking about adoption.

In that moment, Will decided: he was going to ask Nico to marry him.

Nico didn’t remember how he got to bed last night, or much of anything after the start of the documentary Will had put on. He remembered a dream, though, of laying with Will in a field of flowers, and Will’s words repeating in his head. I wanna marry you. But that wasn’t just a dream, was it?

He rose before Will and went out to the living room to finish cleaning up his mess. He took the bowl of popcorn and dumped it in the trash before he washed the bowl in the sink. He wanted to vacuum up the smaller pieces that remained on the living room floor, but he didn’t want to risk waking Will.

Actually, now that he thought of it, Nico had a much better idea of how to wake Will. He went to the kitchen, pulling out the supplies for pancakes and preparing to deliver breakfast in bed. He walked over to the pantry to grab the chocolate chips, and when he turned back he saw Will walking into the room.

Nico frowned at him. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

Will smiled sleepily. “Good morning to you, too.” He stepped up to Nico and framed his face in his hands before drawing him in for a kiss. “I love you.”

Nico set the bag of chocolate chips on the counter next to them. “Enough to marry me?”

Will’s smile turned blindingly bright. “Maybe. Why? Are you asking?”

“Nope.” Nico moved toward his cooking supplies and started whipping up a batter. “I kinda figured you might, though.”

He felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind, and Will’s chin dropped onto his shoulder. “Nico, will you marry me?”

“Haven’t I told you that a marriage proposal should be done on your knees?” Nico asked as he poured the chocolate chips into the batter.

Will stepped away and dropped to his knees, placing his hands on Nico’s hips and turning him to face him. “Is this better?”

“I think you’re supposed to have a ring, too.”

Will’s head fell against Nico’s stomach with a whine. “Do you want to marry me or not?”

Nico took Will’s hands off his hips and pulled up until Will got the hint and rose to his feet. “Will, we’ve only been dating for a few months.”

“I know. I’m not saying we should get married tomorrow, but...sometime. You’re adopting my daughter, I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Nico cracked a grin. “Oh, you think so?”

Will squeezed Nico’s hands. “I hope so.”

Nico sighed, and lowered himself to one knee. He slipped his hands out of Will’s and slid the silver skull ring from his finger. “Will--” he started, but cut himself off when he tried to put the ring on Will’s finger, though it didn’t fit. “Uh, hang on.” He tried again, pushing the ring down to the base of Will’s pinky as he said, “I want you to know how important this ring is to me, okay? It was a gift from my sister, and… And now it’s even more important because...because of this.” He took a deep breath. “Will Solace, will you marry me someday?”

Will pulled him back to his feet, kissing him for a moment before pulling back and saying, “I love you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Will laughed, pulling Nico as close as he could, and pressed kisses across his face.

“Verbal consent is important, Will.”

Will pulled back just enough to look into Nico’s eyes, smiling brighter than the sun, and Nico supposed that made sense, since the sun and the sky generally came together. “Nico,” Will whispered. “We’re gonna get married.”

“Not if you don’t actually give me an answer, we’re not.”

“You’re going to be my husband .”

“I--” Nico paused, cutting off his own remark, and carefully, so slowly, he reached up and brushed his fingers across Will’s cheek. “I’m gonna be your husband.” This time it was Nico that initiated the kiss, though it wasn’t long before he was pulling away with a groan and knocking his forehead against Will’s shoulder. “I have to introduce you to my dad now.”

Will frowned. “What, like, now?”

“No, it’s…” He sighed. “It’s a long story. Let’s talk about it later, okay?”

The two of them left about an hour later to go pick up Bianca from Hazel and Frank’s. Frank greeted them when they arrived and invited them to sit on the couch, explaining that Hazel was helping Bianca pack up her things. Will and Frank, who had yet to officially meet, greeted each other with a handshake before they all settled down.

Frank glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway where Hazel and Bianca were, and turned back to Nico and Will when he deemed it was safe. “So, uh, Nico,” he started, his voice hushed and his body leaning toward Nico. “I was hoping to get your opinion on, um. Well, I’m planning on asking Hazel to marry me--”

Nico cut him off with a loud groan as he slouched back into the couch.

Frank blinked in surprise. “Is there a...problem?”

Nico ran a hand over his face as he said, “No, no, of course not. You should’ve asked her a year ago, but-- You know that deal I made with Hazel?”

He nodded.

“Will and I are engaged.”

“Oh! Congratulations,” Frank told them. “That’s great, that’s-- Oh.”

“What are you talking about?” Will asked. “What deal?”

“Hazel and I promised each other that we wouldn’t see our dad in person until we were both either engaged or married, and we would go together to make sure we didn’t have to be alone with him,” Nico explained. “If we’re both engaged, then we have to go back to California.”

“I don’t have to propose yet,” Frank offered, but Nico rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be stupid, Frank, she talks about marrying you every time I talk to her.”

Just then, they heard Hazel’s voice from down the hall asking Bianca, “Are you sure you have everything?” before they both came walking down the hall. Immediately, Frank sat up straighter in his chair as if to seem unsuspicious.

When they entered the room, Bianca ran straight for Will while Hazel sat on the arm of Frank’s chair. “What are we talking about?”

“We’re engaged,” Nico replied plainly.

Hazel raised an eyebrow and coughed like she was trying to hide a laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Nico said, narrowing his eyes at her like he was daring her to laugh.

Instead of cracking a joke, Hazel smiled genuinely. “I’m so happy for you both!”

“Thank you,” Will said.

Nico rose to his feet. “Well, we should probably be heading out. I’m sure we’ll all be seeing each other soon enough.” He shot Frank a pointed look before he leaned in to kiss Hazel’s cheek in goodbye.

“What, that’s it?” Hazel asked. “Thanks for watching my kid, I’m engaged, see you later? That’s all you’ve got to say to me?”

“Oh yeah, I guess I should say thanks, huh?” Nico replied with a wide smile. “But no, you’re right, there is one more thing. I’m in the process of adopting Bianca.” He turned around to face the Solaces and said, “Are we ready to go?”

He ushered them out the door with one last wave to his sister and her soon-to-be fiance.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Will asked as they started down the hall.

“Frank looked like he was going to explode with how much he wanted to pop the question,” Nico answered. “I figured we’d better give them some space.”

By the time they reached the car, Nico had already gotten three texts.

FROM: Hazel; Did you know he was going to propose?

FROM: Hazel; Seriously, he did it the second you walked out the door

FROM: Hazel; I guess we’ll be planning a trip to Cali soon, huh?

Will was on his lunch break when he got a phone call. He recognized the number as one from Bianca’s school, and answered immediately. Why would someone be calling him in the middle of the day, unless something was wrong? “Doctor Solace, hello!” Bianca’s teacher greeted him when he answered the call. “I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to pick up the class from the lunch room, but I have a very important matter I need to discuss with you and your partner. When would be a good time for you to come up to the school?”

“Uh--” Will froze. Was something going on with Bianca? Was she actually not doing as well in school as they’d been told? Would she have to repeat the first grade? “Um, when would be best for you?”

“Well, I would prefer that Bianca not be present for the discussion,” the teacher continued, and Will’s heart sank. Bi was going to have to repeat the year, and Will was going to have to be the bad guy. He hated being the bad guy. “Though it should be a rather quick talk. You normally pick Bianca up from school, right? Would you mind staying a few minutes later than usual today?”

“No, that should be just fine,” Will told her.

“Great! Then I will see you after school today,” the teacher said cheerily. “Have a wonderful afternoon, Doctor Solace!” And she hung up the phone.

Will frowned down at his blank phone screen for a few moments, already dreading the conversation that wouldn’t even happen for a few more hours. He turned the screen back on and called Nico, tapping his foot anxiously as he waited for an answer.

“What’s up, Cowboy?” Nico teased upon answering.

“The school called,” Will told him. “Bi’s teacher wants us to talk to her this afternoon. I think I’ll have to leave work early, but can you meet me there?”

“Of course, Sunshine. Did she say what it’s about?”

Will shook his head despite knowing Nico couldn’t see him. “She doesn’t want Bi in the room, so I think it’s bad news.” He took a steadying breath. “What if she has to repeat the first grade? She’s gonna hate me if she hears it from me.”

“She’s not gonna hear it from you,” Nico assured him, “because she’s not gonna have to repeat the year. She’s gonna be fine, you remember the last time we talked to her teacher. It was all good news. And, if it comes to it, which it won’t, I’ll tell Bianca, so you don’t have to. Sound good?”

Will exhaled. “Thank you, Nico.”

They met with Bianca’s teacher a few hours later. Nico arrived a few minutes before Will and waited in his car until he saw Will park a few rows away. They entered the building together, hand in hand, with Nico stroking his thumb across Will’s knuckles in the hope of calming his anxiety. The two of them made their way to Bianca’s classroom and leaned up against the wall opposite the door, constantly reassuring each other that everything would be fine.

The sound of a bell ringing surrounded them, and every door in the hall opened to a flood of first graders. Nico and Will stayed against the wall until the hallway had cleared out, then they stepped into Bianca’s classroom. Bianca and her teacher sat at their respective desks, and both glanced up when Nico and Will entered the room.

“Ah, Doctor Solace, Mr. di Angelo!” the teacher started, rising from her seat and stepping around her desk toward them. She held out a hand to shake theirs. “It’s wonderful to see you both again. Please, take a seat and if you’ll excuse me for just one second…” She walked around them and crouched next to Bianca’s desk. When she stood again, Bianca started packing up her things into her backpack and walked silently out of the room with her head down.

Nico and Will pulled a couple of chairs - tiny ones designed for six year olds - up to the teacher’s desk as she returned to her seat.

“Thank you again for meeting with me on such short notice,” she told him once they were all situated.

“Anything for Bianca,” Will said with a nod, reaching over to subtly lace his fingers with Nico’s.

“Did she do something wrong?” Nico asked, jumping right to the point. “We were worried that her learning disabilities might be holding her back--”

“No, no, of course not,” the teacher cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “I actually wanted to speak to the two of you about that, but for a completely different reason.”

“What do you mean?” Will asked, tightening his hold on Nico’s hand.

“In this past school year, Bianca has made exceptional progress,” the teacher explained. “Her reading level has risen to a third grade level, though she still has some work to do when reading out loud. She’s much more focused in class than had been earlier in the year, and I would have to say that the only thing that she might still need help with is her math skills.”

Will sat frozen. Nico asked, “So she doesn’t have to repeat the first grade?”

“No, absolutely not,” the teacher assured them. “I was concerned a few months ago, but I believe that Bianca shouldn’t have a problem keeping up with the other students. However, the reason that I called you here was not about repeating the class. I do want to suggest that you enroll her in summer school.”

“But you just said she was fine,” Nico said.

“That is true, but I do feel that classes over the summer will ensure that she stays on track,” the teacher explained. “I’m not talking about the whole summer. Perhaps just the month of August, to help her get back into the swing of things.”

“Just one month?” Will asked. “No repeating the class and just a few weeks of summer school?”

“That’s right! I hope you don’t mind that I asked Bianca not to be in the room for this discussion. The kids normally get upset at the thought of summer school, but I truly believe that she will benefit from it.”

“I’m sure she will,” Nico responded. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s not a problem,” the teacher told them. “I’m looking forward to seeing the two of you again at Bianca’s first grade graduation.”

They all stood and shook hands once more before Nico and Will stepped back out into the hallway. They noticed Bianca sitting on the ground against the wall, hands wrapped around her knees.

“Daddy, did I do something wrong?” she asked softly, keeping her eyes down.

Nico crouched down in front of her. “No, Princess, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he told her. Will sat down in front of his daughter and reached out to ruffle her hair.

“Your teacher just wanted to make sure we knew about your last day of school in a few weeks, and how you’re gonna be a second grader soon,” Will told her with a smile. “She said that you’re going to have some of your own classes before everyone else, because she wants you to get a head start.”

“Really?” Bianca asked.

“Really, Princess,” Nico said. “Now, how about we go get you a brand new dress to wear for your class party?”

“And we can go out for dinner,” Will said with a nod. “Wherever you wanna go, okay?”

“Okay!”

Will sometimes forgot about the ring on his finger until it glinted in the light, or one of his patients or coworkers pointed it out to him. Then, he would smile and he would talk and talk and talk about his fiance, and nothing could get him to stop. A lot of his patients would comment about what a strange engagement ring it was - silver, not gold; a skull instead of a diamond - though Will never thought much of it. Nico had told him that it was important to him, and it was important to Will.

One day, one of Will’s patients - the sweetest old lady he had ever met - struck up a conversation with him about his engagement. When he told her the story of the impromptu proposal at breakfast, she seemed almost offended.

“You proposed without a ring?” she asked. “Of course he didn’t accept! You have to get that boy a ring! Or else somebody might snatch him right out of your hands.”

Will laughed. “I don’t think anybody’s gonna be snatching him away from me. I wouldn’t let them.”

“That’s not the point, sweetie, it’s bad luck if he doesn’t have a ring!”

That took Will by surprise. “Is it, really?”

“Well, it’s unlucky for a lady to go without a ring, but I’m not sure how that would work with your situation. But wouldn’t you rather be safe, than sorry?”

“Of course,” Will told her. “You’re right. I’ll get him a ring on my way home tonight. Now, let’s get you ready for your surgery, okay?”

Then, though, he couldn’t get her words out of his head. Aside from just the risk of bad luck, shouldn’t Will get Nico a ring just because?Especially after he’d given up his own.

When he left work that evening, he sent Nico a quick text to let him know he’d be home a little bit later than he’d thought, and then searched for the nearest jewelry store.

The next morning, Nico woke up to the feeling of lips on his neck, his shoulder, teeth biting gently into his ear. Nico hummed, tilting his head and offering a better angle for kissing. “Good morning,” Nico whispered, feeling Will’s hand travel up his chest.

“I have something I want to give you,” Will told him softly before pulling away completely.

Nico’s eyes cracked open, squinting at the clock on the nightstand, and groaned. “Will,” he started, rolling onto his back. “I don’t want to have sex at six-thirty in the morning.”

Will laughed, pressing a kiss to Nico’s cheek and setting something on his stomach. “Good thing that’s not what I meant.”

Nico eyed the tiny box on his stomach as Will rolled out of bed. “Will, what is this?”

“It’s a box that you have to open to see what’s inside,” Will answered. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Will was out of the room before Nico sat up to turn on the bedside lamp, holding the box carefully in his hands. He flipped open the lid, eyes landing on a gold band with a simple golden sun attached. It was incredibly similar to the silver ring that Will now wore on his finger.

Nico flung himself out of bed, racing across the hall to the bathroom and bursting inside. The water was already running, and Nico could hear Will humming an unfamiliar tune behind the shower curtain.

“Will,” Nico called over the sound of the water, moving further into the bathroom to pull back the curtain.

“Yes?” Will asked innocently, hair already full of suds.

Nico held up his hand, showing off the golden ring already situated on his finger. “Is this supposed to make up for your shitty proposal?”

Will shrugged. “I thought it was pretty decent, but if that’s what you think--”

Nico reached up, tangling his fingers in Will’s soapy hair and tugging him down for a kiss. “Consent is important, remember,” Nico told him when he pulled back. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Will pouted. “I didn’t even get to ask that time.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Do you want me to marry you or not, Sunshine?”

“Of course I do,” Will told him with a blinding smile, darting forward for another kiss. “Can I finish my shower now?”

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#i'm in hell #mine #my writing #solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo

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