#THEN TURNED HIM INTO YOUR GRANDMOTHERS PIN CUSHION | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

our-time-is-now · 2 years

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August 12, 2019 (2): Knowing, thinking, hoping, wanting

(previous play)

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Monday, 7:55 pm:

David: *he and Matteo had some gelato in Rimini and then they strolled through the town center for a while* *they stopped at “their” beach on their way back and went for a swim before they finally went back to the grandmother’s house* *they were greeted heartily and had dinner with her* *has been feeling some pain in his butt for a while now and can barely sit still anymore even though Matteo inconspicuously gave him two lawn chair cushions* *blames the pain on the long car ride and the fact that they walked around and swam a lot* *waits for the grandmother to stop talking for a second and quietly asks Matteo* Is it okay if I already went to our room? Somehow I can’t sit for that long right now… maybe we could tell your grandmother that I have a headache or something…?

Matteo: *sits on the porch after dinner with David and his grandmother and has managed to inconspicuously slip a few more cushions onto David’s chair* *but can already tell that David is pretty exhausted* *then hears his words and nods immediately* Sure, go ahead… I’ll take care of this… *quickly kisses him and smiles slightly* *hears his grandmother stop talking and sees her wait* *tells David* Go, I’ll explain to her… *then hears his grandmother: “What’s wrong?”* *explains in Italian* David is pretty exhausted and has a bit of a headache, he’s already going up to our room…

Nonna: *hears that David has a headache and that he wants to go upstairs and looks at him in worry* Does he need a tablet? Tell him to take a bottle of water from the kitchen with him. I hope the sun wasn’t too much for him. Headache and feeling unwell are often a sign that you were in the sun for too long. Were you in the sun for too long? Did you apply sun cream? You’re not used to the sunlight here… *looks at David in worry again and waits for Matteo to translate* *quickly adds* And tell him to get well! *sees David smile tiredly and hears him say something to Matteo before he says his goodbyes and goes inside* *looks at Matteo* So no tablet? Painkillers aren’t that good, anyways. I only take them if I have to… the body gets used to that very quickly. A lot of the time it’s already enough to rest and sleep a little…

David: *returns Matteo’s kiss and smiles slightly* *quietly murmurs* Thanks… *tenderly runs his hand through his hair and gets up* *then hears Matteo’s grandmother again and gets the translation from Matteo* *slightly shakes his head* I don’t think that I’ll need a tablet but I’ll take a bottle of water upstairs… thanks! *smiles at the grandmother again and then disappears inside*

Matteo: *has to smile automatically when his grandmother is immediately worried and when she’s so very grandmotherly* *translates for David and nods when he says that he doesn’t need a tablet* See you later… *looks after him when he leaves and then turns back to his grandmother* He’ll take water upstairs but he doesn’t need a tablet… I think he just needs some quiet… we’re constantly on our feet and at home we’re a lot lazier… *grins slightly*

Nonna: *nods at Matteo’s words and then refills both of their lemonades* But you’re still young… it actually shouldn't bother you to be on your feet much. And David doesn’t seem unfit to me but instead rather athletic. But those things can be misleading. Do you guys do sports in Berlin? Exercising is important - otherwise it’s easy to get rusty. With most jobs today you’re just sitting at a desk. That’s not good! Have you already thought about what kind of job you want to do? *looks at him curiously and thinks about what kind of job would fit her grandson*

Matteo: *has to laugh slightly* Yes, Nonna, we also exercise and do sports… *silently thinks that riding his bike, walking from a to b and sex also count as sports* *then tilts his head a little* *doesn’t know the English expression for a Voluntary Year of Social Service and therefore describes it* For now I’m working for a year, something that’s offered in Germany, something in the social sector... I already got a position at a youth center… and after that I’ll see, maybe I’ll do something along those lines if I like it.

Nonna: *nods reassured when she hears that David and Matteo are also doing sports* That’s good! Very good! *then hears that he wants to work and that he already has a job and tilts her head a little* Something in the social sector… I see… *looks at him scrutinizingly and then nods hesitantly* I never imagined anything social for you, more something with computers or numbers… something boring. But something social… why not? There are a lot of nice social professions. But in Italy you have to study for most of those professions. The Rinaldi’s daughter - you know… they lived at the end of the street for really long - but then they moved more toward the town center… but I still meet Silvia regularly when I’m shopping - she also always goes to Leandro, the vegetable salesman. And the daughter… what’s her name again? She must be four or five years older than you… Philippo’s age… *laughs* I think Philippo even was in love with her at some point… anyways, she studied something social… and now she moved to Rimini and does something like that there… what is it called? Streetworker? Silvia says that she enjoys it very much!

Matteo: *laughs and shakes his head when she says that she imagined something different for him* And then sitting in an office from 8 to 5? No, Nonna, I really don’t want that… *then listens to her and has to grin when she jumps from one thing to the next again* I think her name is Clarissa, Nonna… but yes, if that’s something I enjoy then I would also study it…

Nonna: *hears Matteo laugh and looks at him a little outraged* Why are you laughing!? That thought isn’t that absurd! You’re so good with numbers! But yes, I can also understand that sitting in an office for so long isn’t for everyone! It wouldn’t be my thing, either! Then just go ahead and try it with that social stuff… and I think it's good to just work for a year to see if it really fits you! Otherwise you’ll study something for years and then at the end you realize that you would have preferred sitting at a desk, after all… *laughs* Clarissa! Right! I really have to remember that! It’s really embarrassing in front of Silvia if I don’t know her daughter’s name! *but then shifts back to the choice of profession* But I’m really happy for you that you already found something. And what about David? Does he start working or will he immediately study? Or doesn't he have a clue yet?

Matteo: *nods* Yes, exactly, and I don’t want that… *then grins again* you don’t have to remember every name, Nonna… I really only know it because Philippo really talked a lot about her… *immediately smiles when it’s about David* Oh yes, David has big plans… he wants to be a filmmaker and he’s been accepted to all four universities he applied to. *smiles proudly*

Nonna: *laughs when Matteo says that Philippo talked a lot about her* Oh yes I also remember that very well! Clarissa this, Clarissa that… he must have been around your age. But Clarissa never wanted anything from him and the poor guy didn’t give up hope for so long… Well, but he then found someone else really soon… I think her name was Maria… but she was here only two times… then there was Selina… and then one whose name I keep forgetting… even though they were together for a really long time! More than 6 months, I think! *slightly shakes her head* That boy really has a lot of girlfriends! But that’s what it’s like today, he says! It was different in the past - back then you stayed together for really long! But nowadays… I don’t know if young people today don’t appreciate their partners as much anymore or what the reason for that is… but I can see the same thing with Mario as well… and with Josephina… although she also already had a relationship that lasted for 2 years… I really thought she would get married soon… but no… then came the next one! *then asks about David’s plans for the future and has to smile when Matteo also immediately starts to smile* *laughs quietly when she can hear in the tone of his voice how proud he is and nods* Filmmaker, of course… an artist also needs an artistic profession. Although that can also be tough… all those artistic professions… Is he as good with filmmaking as he is with drawing? Oh yes, of course… otherwise he wouldn’t have been accepted to four universities… which university will he study at? Did he choose the best one?

Matteo: *now has to laugh again, after all* Yeah, yeah, those young people don’t have any stamina… *but then gets serious again, after all* But if it doesn’t fit then it’s better to separate instead of dragging it out endlessly… or frantically trying to cling to it… ultimately that doesn’t hurt any less… *briefly thinks about his parents and what it would have been like if his father would have left sooner* *but then hears her talking about David and likes to think about that a lot more* Yes, that can be pretty hard… you have to be really good and get a little lucky and have good timing. He’ll study in Berlin, because we really wanted to stay in Berlin, but the university is also really good…

Nonna: *looks at Matteo slightly punishingly* I don’t know why that’s a laughing matter! That’s actually horrible! Leaving as soon as there are problems… instead of working on it! If one of my vases has a crack, I also fix it instead of throwing it in the trash and buying a new one. How often do you think your grandfather would have landed in the trash otherwise!? *laughs loudly and adds* He also sometimes had a crack! But it was still always fun with him. *has to smile when thinking about her late husband* *but then listens to Matteo further, grimaces and shakes her head* Of course a separation is better when it doesn’t fit at all! But if it doesn’t fit at all then why do you get together in the first place!? Why do you get married and have children!? *briefly has to think of Matteo’s parents, but doesn’t say anything on that topic because she knows that Matteo doesn’t really want to talk about his father* *then listens to him talking about David again and nods* *looks shocked at first but then relieved* Oh - I’m glad that the university in Berlin is really good! At first I thought he just chose the university because he wants to stay in Berlin and with you… If you want to study something social later, then you should also pick the best university!

Matteo: *looks at her slightly amused and has to grin when she mentions his grandfather* Yes, okay… but weren’t you the one who told me only the day before yesterday that young love doesn’t last anyways? *draws up his eyebrows a little in question* *then shrugs one shoulder* Yes, I don’t know that, either… sometimes that only develops, doesn’t it? At first everything is great but then something happens and… *shrugs one shoulder again* *but then loves her very much for looking so shocked and for caring so much* I will, Nonna, don’t worry.

Nonna: *nods strongly at Matteo’s words* Yes, and I stand by it! Nowadays, my boy! Nowadays! Something has changed in the last few years or decades! Nowadays you give up way too soon! That was different in the past - you were rather trying to find back to each other if it didn’t go too well. How do they say: “In good times as in bad times!” And if both people also wanted to stick together in bad times then they used to manage somehow in the past. Nowadays you go and look for the next man… or woman… and hope that it will work better with that person. You just don’t put any work into relationships anymore! What do you think how many suitors I had back then?! *laughs and starts listing them* Giuseppe, Antonio, Leonardo - very good-looking back then, by the way - now he has suuuch a huge belly and no hair anymore - oh and Lorenzo, of course! It would have been very easy for me to just say: My husband is getting on my nerves right now, I’ll leave him and take the next one! And we really had difficult times! When your grandfather lost his job, for example, and when we didn’t know if we could stay living here… or when your uncle was so sick as a child… but no! We got through this together! And I’m proud to be able to say that your grandfather was my first and only love - the first and last man that I kissed… the first and last one I… *laughs and shakes her head* Well you know… *then gets serious again* I didn’t need anyone else. Never! But nowadays… you’re more proud of how many people you’ve been with! If it doesn’t work with one person then you’ll just take the next one… *now has to mention Matteo’s parents, after all, when he says that something happens and then something can develop in a different direction* Take your parents as an example. Your mother was sick. Or is sick… I read that you don’t just get rid of depression that easily. Everything was good for a long time. The both of them were in love, they had a son, a great family! Then your mother gets sick. But she’s still the same person. The person your father fell in love with and who he married. It fit all the years before that. And then suddenly that’s no longer the case!? Why don’t you work on it together to make it fit again!? *shakes her head* I can’t understand that! I didn’t raise your father like that! Your grandfather and I set a different example! But maybe that really is what’s done nowadays… maybe everyone is under too much pressure and people think they somehow have to function in this society and if something doesn’t fit then you throw it out like a broken vase instead of fixing it because sometimes that might be easier…

Matteo: *listens to his grandmother getting more and more enthusiastic and hears how firy she’s talking and what she says* *only grimaces once at the beginning when she hints at sex* *but then thinks that this could also fit David and him: The first and last boy…* *listen to her further and simply finds her wonderful right now* *then leans forward and wraps his arms around her* *squeezes her for a moment and then leans back again* *sees her looking at him befuddled* I think you’re great, Nonna. *then briefly thinks about how to say it and formulates it in his head* Nowadays it’s about faster, higher, further… who will make a career, who makes the money, who has the most followers, who has this or that… but I don’t always have to look for the biggest thing… I like living in the here and now and to enjoy what I have…

Nonna: *looks at Matteo a little befuddled when he suddenly wraps his arms around her and then laughs when she hears his words* *pats his arm after he leaned back again and says* I’m giving my best! But of course compliments are still very welcome and appreciated! *beams at him* *then seed that he also wants to say something and looks at him expectantly* *nods when he starts talking and refrains from interrupting him immediately* *has no clue what followers are and plans on asking, but then forgets about it immediately* *briefly thinks about his words and then says* Maybe the way you do it is not even that bad. I mean of course you have to worry about how you’ll pay rent or who will vacuum the living room… but if you mostly like the overall situation then why should one necessarily want more, right? You don’t have to make a career to be happy… you just have to manage to make ends’ meet… you don’t have to be liked by everyone to be happy… it’s enough if the people you care about like you! And so on… *leans back and crosses her arms in front of her chest* *looks at him with a smile but also a little challengingly* As long as you’re doing good it’s easy to live in the here and now… but what will you do if you’re not doing good one day? Or when David isn’t doing good? If one of you doesn’t like what he’s studying, for example, but you don’t know what you want to do instead?! Or if one of you gets depression like your mother? If the here and now is no longer just enjoying things!? What will you do then, Matteo?

Matteo: *nods slowly when she says that it’s not that bad* Yes, sure… you mustn’t forget the necessities, Nonna, that’s obvious… *then hears her challenging question and feels snubbed for a second* *thinks that he already went through difficult times, after all* *that he already had his lows and let himself go and then thinks about Rentier and his advice and Jonas and David and all his friends* I think then I’d talk… to David, to my friends… depending what it’s about… together you can usually find a solution, right?

Nonna: *laughs when Matteo acts as if the necessities were obvious* I’m happy that you see it like that, my boy! But believe me, that’s not so obvious! If I think about how long it took me to get your grandfather to see that it’s a necessity to take the trash out… I told him at least a million times… but it just wouldn’t go into his head! *laughs again and shakes her head* *then notices that Matteo has to think about her question about bad times and forces herself to keep her mouth shut* *takes a sip and gives him the time even though she has already opened her mouth twice to add something to her words* *finally hears his answer and nods hesitantly* *but then tilts her head a little and asks* Do you think that this was the crux of the matter? That your parents didn’t talk? Or do you think they talked and it just didn’t help? *holds her hands up in defense* Don’t get me wrong! I think your approach is great! Talking can get you very far! I love talking! Talking is great! And I’ve always addressed problems whenever I saw them. And my experience also shows me that you can get very far with it. But it’s almost too simple, isn’t it? I mean if all you have to do is talk then why don’t more people do that when they have problems!?

Matteo: *laughs quietly when she talks about taking the trash out* David always takes out the trash completely automatically… he says that I already cook and then he can do all the other stuff… *grins and shrugs one shoulder* *then grimaces slightly when she asks about his parents* *automatically shrugs one shoulder again in defense* I don’t know… *but listens to her further and thinks that she’s really right* *that sometimes it’s apparently too easy, especially in his parents’ case* Well, Mama is sick… and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way or anything… that’s just a fact. And my father didn’t understand that or didn’t want to deal with that, no idea… he thought she just has to put in enough effort, then it’ll get better… So you’re probably right, in their case talking didn’t help… *then shrugs one shoulder again and says a little flippantly* But we can’t all just run to a therapist if we don’t agree with something, can we?

Nonna: *slams her fist on the table and laughs when Matteo tells her about their division of labor* That can’t be! How long have you been together?!? How did you manage such a perfect division of labor!?! *then realizes that she really doesn’t know how long they’ve been together and plans on definitely asking about more details later* *also thinks that this sounds a little bit like they would live together and realizes that she doesn’t know anything about that, either* *is a little embarrassed that so far, she hasn’t been interested in it and then remembers that she also wanted to apologize to Matteo for her reaction when he came out* *thinks that this isn’t really the topic right now and hopes that she’ll remember it later* *instead listens to his words about his parents and huffs slightly when he talks about his father* He understood that very well! My son isn’t stupid! I rather think that dealing with it was too exhausting for him! He should have supported her! He shouldn't have left her and you alone! /He/ should have made her go to the doctor and the therapist! And maybe he should have gotten help for himself, as well! There are counseling centers for relatives! By the way, I read that they also exist for children! You have to do research on that, my boy! *then hears his flippant addition and also shrugs one shoulder* But why not!? I mean, of course you’re right when you say that you have to talk to get ahead. But maybe sometimes you don’t have the right approach to talk about things. Or the people you are talking about are too close to the matter… Then it can be helpful to talk about it with someone who has a healthy distance to it and who’s also an expert on the subject! Just look how much the therapy has helped your mother and how much it still helps her! That's the best example. I mean, okay, she also has medication… but I think in her case the combination is really good and important! I still remember the first time we talked after she felt better again. It was so nice to talk to the old Susanne again… it was so good to hear that she’s doing better. And I don’t know if she would have managed that without therapy. *slightly shakes her head and then moves her hands defensively* I know, many people - especially my age - think of that as complete nonsense. /I/ don’t need help, I’m not crazy or sick, that’s what they think. But that’s nonsense! Being sick is not a bad thing. If you’re sick and you’re not feeling well then you go to the doctor. And if the soul is sick and the soul isn’t doing well, then you go to a therapist. It’s as simple as that!

Matteo: *laughs out loud when his grandmother slams her fist on the table* *but still answers* A little over three months… *then listens to her as she talks about her son and thinks that she’s very right* *but he also always felt like he wanted for his mother to do more* Yes, I guess that’s true… but he always asked a lot of her… *pauses when she says that there are counseling centers for relatives* *very vaguely remembers Hanna mentioning something like that, but that back then he had waved it off very quickly* *then listens to her further and nods slowly* *for the first time really considers if therapy would be something for him, talking to someone who’s an outsider, who isn’t involved but who knows what they are talking about and who can help him sort his feelings* *says quietly* You’re somehow right about that… *smiles slightly* If the soul is sick you go to the therapist, I like that… I can also see how it helps people around me… but somehow I never really considered it for myself… *slightly shrugs one shoulder* But I’m doing good… that’s just hypothetical…

Nonna: *looks at Matteo in surprise* Only three months!? *then laughs* This thing with cooking and taking the trash out sounds more like you’ve been together for three years! But then you surely wouldn't have introduced him to me only now… keeping a partner secret from your grandmother for three years is… what would Mario call it!? A no-go? *laughs again and feels how much she wishes for Matteo that this thing with David will last because he looks so happy when he’s with David or talks about him, but can’t really believe in it because she’s seen something different from her other grandchildren and the children of her friends* *but then concentrates on Matteo’s parents again and nods at his words* He should have supported her instead of asking so much of her! Did he take out the trash? Probably not… *nods strongly when he says that she’s right* Of course I’m right! *nods again when he repeats her words and looks at him scrutinizingly and a little worried when he suddenly seems so pensive* *then lifts her eyebrows when he says that he’s doing good, but nods hesitantly* Of course… purely hypothetical. But it’s still good to have it in the back of your head in case that changes, my boy! And if you say that it helps people around you… then I’ll just assume that your mother isn’t the only one in your life that goes to see a therapist… nowadays that’s something that happens in all age groups I’m telling you. There are even children and teenagers that go. In my age that’s often frowned upon, for whatever reason. But I know many people where I think that would do them some good… But I’d really like for you to be able to accept this help if you ever need it. Hypothetically speaking… *grins slightly and takes another sip*

Matteo: *laughs slightly when she’s in so much disbelief* Yes, three months… but it seems longer to us, as well… *then slightly shakes his head when she talks about his father* No, I took the trash out… *then listens to her further and really has to smile because she’s just so great and somehow modern and traditional at the same time* I’ve never really thought about it… but you’re right… now it’s definitely in the back of my mind… in case I need it one day… hypothetically speaking… *grins slightly*

Nonna: *laughs again quietly* At least you seem to be working together so well as if you had been together for longer… but what do I know?! I haven’t seen that much of you two so far! You can just go ahead and tell your old Nonna a few more details or do I have to pull every detail out of you?! *then pffs slightly and frowns when Matteo says that he was the one who took the trash out at home and murmurs quietly and a little bitter* Of course… *then smiles again at his thoughts about therapy and nods and repeats* Hypothetically speaking… *has to grin slightly and takes another sip* *feels like Matteo doesn’t want to talk about this topic any further but thinks that it’s important that he says that he’ll definitely keep this in mind in case he should ever need it* *puts her glass back down and claps her hands together* So… what was that about pulling every detail out of you? Will you tell me voluntarily how you managed to get such a good looking boy or do I have to bombard you with questions?

Matteo: *grins slightly when she basically praises him and David but also says that she doesn’t know them very well yet* *slightly shrugs one shoulder* *then laughs when she claps her hands* You know me, Nonna, I don’t talk much… so I guess you’ll just have to bombard me with questions… *sees her looking at him reproachfully and decides to at least give her the short version because he expects her to have questions, anyways* Okay, so he only changed to our school for the last half-year. I saw him and immediately found him… let’s say interesting. But I had a girlfriend because I wasn’t out yet and that was somehow easier. Well… then there was a lot of back and forth and misunderstandings and hurt but finally we managed, after all… as you can see… *grins slightly*

Nonna: *looks at Matteo reproachfully when he says that he doesn’t talk much* Well you definitely didn’t get that from me! And you said it yourself that talking is good. And I think that you actually have a lot to say… maybe you should just give it a shot… *laughs but then gets serious again and smiles when Matteo really starts talking* *frowns when he says that he had a girlfriend and realizes that she really doesn’t quite understand that* *then also hears his words about the misunderstandings and hurt and smiles slightly when he says that ultimately they managed* *still asks first* But you told me that you’ll never have a girlfriend. That you’ll never bring one along. And still you had one. How is that possible!? If you had one once then you can’t just say that you’ll never have one! And you said it yourself that it was easier than with David. Wouldn’t it have been easier if you stayed together with her? *doesn’t mean it in a bad way and is only interested and not aware of the fact that it could come across differently*

Matteo: *has to smile a little and shakes his head* When it matters then I can talk… that’s enough… *sees her frown and can already imagine that he has to explain the thing with the girlfriend* *grimaces slightly when she continues* Well it was easier because it didn’t mean anything… I just didn’t want to stand out, Nonna, that didn’t have much to do with feelings. Sara was nice and she liked me, that was all. I wanted… to not think about it anymore. And then there was David. *swallows slightly and shakes his head* *says quietly* If I had stayed together with her then I would have become very unhappy… or stayed very unhappy. That just wouldn’t have been me, Nonna.

Nonna: *at first keeps looking at Matteo skeptically when he explains, but then nods conciliatorily* Yes, alright, I think that’s what’s important. When it matters… And you know, sometimes that’s even better… you think about it before you say something… with me it just keeps bubbling out… *laughs* Sometimes I think I should also think first, but on the other hand I already have all the words and thoughts in my head and then they just want out, you know? *then listens to his words about this girl and hears that he didn’t want to stand out* *wonders if there really wasn’t anyone who noticed that he was actually unhappy and asks herself if she would have noticed if she could spend more time with Matteo* *hesitantly nods at his words and then spits it out* But if you knew from the start that this wasn’t what you wanted… then I really don’t understand it, my boy! You said that you didn’t want to stand out! But you also have to think about yourself! What good is not standing out if you’re unhappy!? What would you have done if David hadn’t come along? Would you have stayed with that girl? Just because that’s easy? Just to not stand out? You have to value yourself and to stand true to yourself! Not just when it comes to relationships… but with everything. I mean if you don’t like orange juice then you don’t just drink orange juice to not stand out just because everyone else is drinking orange juice… There’s no reason for you to hide, Matteo! You are such a nice, good-looking boy! And the easy way isn’t always the right one! Okay, I guess you know that by now… but you have to fight for the things that are important to you!

Matteo: *laughs slightly* Definitely… *grins slightly and shrugs one shoulder* People are different, Nonna, that’s okay. *then listens to her and feels a little overwhelmed* *wonders what else he could tell her because she just doesn’t seem to understand him* *swallows slightly and shakes his head* But that might not be as simple as you imagine? I mean being true to yourself is all nice and well, but maybe I just wasn’t ready to face it and to maybe lose people? YOU weren’t really thrilled when I first told you! And if it hadn’t been for Philippo who knows if you would have called me again? That’s not a matter of orange juice, Nonna. That’s different. That’s my life. My decision! And sometimes it just takes a while until you know what you want and who you want. *takes a deep breath and didn’t really notice that he sat up straighter* *now quickly leans back again*

Nonna: *nods when he says that people are different* Yes, you’re right about that… *then laughs again* Just imagine everyone would be like me - everyone would just be talking over each other and probably no one would listen to each other anymore… *then frowns when Matteo says that it’s not as simple as she imagines* *was just about to interrupt him to disagree with him when he really goes off* *closes her mouth again and forces herself to listen to him until the end* *feels a little bad for making that accusation because she knows exactly that he’s right about everything he says - but finds it difficult to admit that* *therefore says impulsively after he finished* What’s that supposed to mean if I would have called you… of course I would have called you! You’re my grandson! You belong to me - no matter if you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. What do you take me for, my boy!? *looks into his face while she talks but then stops abruptly because she realizes that this isn’t what she really wants to say and because it it’s not what Matteo deserves to hear* *lowers her gaze and takes a deep breath* *eventually says* I’m sorry. Yes, I don’t say that very often, I know. But I’m sorry, Matteo, for the way I reacted during our phone call when you told me. And also the way I reacted during our second phone call - that I acted as if the topic never really had been a problem. And you’re probably right when that Philippo helped me understand it. But it’s not true that I wouldn’t have called you again if it hadn’t been for Philippo. I definitely would have reached out again. It might have taken longer. You know exactly how much you mean to me, Matteo… *looks up at him, after all, and puts her hand on his forearm* I’m sorry, you hear? That I reacted so stupidly and that you apparently had to go through all of that alone, that you had to be scared of being true to yourself. *squeezes his arm a little and adds quieter* And I’m happy that you’re happy now. With David.

Matteo: *only grimaces when she says that she would have called him* *doesn’t quite believe it and thinks that she’s only saying that so that she feels better* *shrugs one shoulder, which she can’t see because she lowers her gaze* *then hears her apologize and looks at her very surprised* *can’t remember her ever apologizing to him for anything* *swallows very hard when she explains herself and doesn’t really know what he’s feeling right now* *presses his lips together when she touches his arm and apologizes again* *says quietly* It’s okay… *then looks at her* I’m really happy, Nonna, and I’m also happy that you can see it and that you told me. *pats her hand lying on his arm a little awkwardly* *thinks that it’s a pretty big deal that just happened right now and that what his grandmother just did was really unusual for her to do* *would like to give it back to her but can only think of one thing* And… I’m also sorry… this whole deal with Papa and that at first I avoided you as well because of it, that wasn’t okay… and if we can manage then we’ll definitely come to your birthday, okay? No matter if he comes or not.

Nonna: *sighs when he says that it’s okay because she actually knows that the way she acted wasn’t okay, but leaves it at that* *then smiles very broadly when he confirms that he’s really happy and thinks that this really is what matters most* *laughs when he pats her hand and lovingly hits him on the arm before pulling her hand away* That’s what matters the most, isn’t it? That you’re happy! And that you know that I can see it. And that you no longer have to be scared to be yourself in front of me. Sometimes I really talk without thinking first, my boy! And then I’m always more focused on myself than on others. Which can be useful sometimes but sometimes it’s not. I’d like to be focused on you. Then just hit me or interrupt me, okay? Let me know that you’re also there and that it’s about you and not about me! You can’t be scared of that, you understand? *then listens to him further and shakes her head* I already forgot about that! I could understand that, really… you had to deal with it for yourself first… *then beams at him when he says that they’ll come to her birthday and laughs* What does that mean if you can manage!? Of course you can manage! I’ll celebrate on the weekend! Maybe you could take time off and then you’ll stay for longer… David and you… *wants to humor him by mentioning David, because even if she herself is a little skeptical that Matteo is really different than her other grandchildren when it comes to this, she still wants to show him that she’s really taking his words about him and David and their future serious*

Matteo: *listens to her and is really moved and has to swallow a few times* Thanks, Nonna… I’ll do that… *then smiles again when she says that she already forgot about it* *then laughs* Well that means that we’ll have to see if we can take time off and so on… but we’ll definitely come for the weekend! *then laughs slightly when she emphasizes David like that and tilts his head* You mean if we haven’t given in to our youthful carelessness and broke up? *grins and shakes his head* I bet we’d /both/ love to come.

Nonna: *nods happily when Matteo promises to remind her that it’s about him and can see that he’s a little moved* *also gets a little emotional because of it but plays it down by laughing* Then nothing should go wrong in the future! *then smiles very widely when he says that they’ll definitely come for the weekend and is happy* You’ll just tell your employer that it’s about your old Nonna - he has to understand that! Otherwise you’ll just give me his number and I’ll take care of it! *laughs when he doesn’t really take her serious when it comes to David and him, but looks at him a little punishingly at the same time* That’s exactly what I meant! And if you’re still together in 10 years then you’ll still accuse me of the fact that it’s not certain if you’ll come visit together the following year or if you might not have broken up due to your youthful carelessness, won’t you? I was just talking from experience, Matteo! Of course I hope that you’ll still be happy then and I’ll be happy if it’s really true and when you have proven me wrong! Believe me, I’m the first one who’ll tell Philippo and Mario: “Look at your cousin Matteo and his David! That’s how a relationship works! Take them as an example!” But it has to happen like this first… *then hears him promise her that they’d both like to come and nods happily* That’s what I wanted to hear, my boy! *leans back in her chair and says* But I still don’t know that much more about the two of you… as a couple. Only that getting together was complicated… for whatever reason… maybe you’d like to tell me about that? And if not… what else should I know of? Are you living together? Are you planning on moving in together? Did you meet his parents yet? What does Susanne think of him?

Matteo: *laughs slightly* I will… and otherwise I’d really love to hear you talking his ear off in Italian, Nonna. *grins* *grins even more when she justifies herself a little and has to laugh a little* You know me so well… of course I’ll tell you each time we see each other… and I do know what you mean and where this is coming from… but I’m looking forward to proving you wrong… I hope… *then takes a sip and comfortably leans back again* *grins slightly when she naturally has more questions, after all* Well… If I’m being honest, I can’t really tell you too much about it because it’s also about David, and that’s somehow his decision to tell you, you know? But I can answer you everything else… We don’t live together yet, I live at the flatshare and he lives with his sister. But they have to move out of their apartment next month and they’ll stay with us for three months, then they’ll have more time to find a new apartment… And yes, we visited his parents two weeks ago. The mother is alright, but the father is… difficult. And Mama thinks he’s great. Luckily those two get along really well.

Nonna: *waves off Matteo’s impression of how she’ll talk to his boss* Nonsense, I’ll manage… I’ll just learn a few German words - it can’t be that hard! *laughs quietly at first but then smiles when Matteo says that he’s happy to prove her wrong* Hopefully!? My boy, if you’re really convinced of it then there is no “hopefully” - then you just know! With your grandfather and I there never was any “hopefully”. If you want to stay together with David then you have to delete this word out of your vocabulary when it comes to David. *then listens to him answer her question and nods* Very loyal of you! Maybe I’ll just ask him myself… one day… in a few years… when you’ll come visit each summer and he speaks more Italian. *then looks a little surprised when he tells her that they’ll be living together soon* Oh, I already heard how difficult it’s supposed to be to find an apartment in Berlin! That’s actually preposterous! Where are the human rights in this!? Everyone has the right to appropriate living space. But I think it’s no different in Milan or Rome… then I really prefer my good old Ravenna. But do you have enough space at the flatshare to accommodate David and his sister? I mean, sure, David can sleep in your room… by the way, have I ever told you that after we got married your grandfather and I lived in only one room for two years before we bought this house!? that’s how we saved money! But it has worked very well from the beginning… *laughs quietly* And when we moved, this house seemed way too big in the beginning - we usually only stayed in the living room and even slept there… we had to get used to the fact that we had so much space first… *frowns when he tells her about David’s father* Difficult in what way? Doesn’t he accept that you’re together? Is he… how do you say? Homophobe? As a father? A homophobe father isn’t much better than one that just disappears, I’ll tell you that! What’s the matter with men that age?! But it’s nice that his mother is alright. *then laughs quietly* I should have figured that Susanne thinks David is great. But Susanne is a person who can get along well with everyone. She’s always so warm and friendly! You can’t help but to smile when you’re talking to her, can you? Well, I mean now that she’s doing better… it’s nice, my boy, that the two of them are getting along so well. So she can also somehow combine this with her religion? There are Christians who think that being gay is a sin. That’s nonsense, if you ask me. If God wouldn’t have wanted gays and lesbians to exist then he wouldn’t have created them, or what do you think?

Matteo: *laughs slightly* Yes, German is well known for being so easy… *can’t help but to grin when she latches onto the word “hopefully” like that* *almost expected that* *but then listens to her further and gets serious* *says quietly* Yes, that’s actually true… *doesn’t really think that she heard him because she just keeps babbling on* *therefore only nods when she talks about the housing situation in Berlin* *has to chuckle again when she’s so outraged* *then hears her ask a question but immediately hears her babble on about his grandfather and their apartment situation* *still answers* One of my roommates goes to Madrid for three months, David’s sister can take her room and David will stay with me… *then smiles when she talks about them moving into the house and catches himself imagining how he and David might feel when they’ll sleep in their own apartment for the first time* *has to smile at that image and is really looking forward to this future* *but then gets pulled out of this thoughts when she asks about David’s father* *doesn’t want and isn’t able to tell her about the extent of it and therefore only nods at her suspicion* Yes, homophobe… he just can’t accept David the way he is… *but then laughs when she starts talking about his mother and religion* Yep, I agree. I think God likes us… and Mama is also cool with it… in Berlin there’s even a Christian group basically for LGBT family members, she went there one or two times now and apparently she really liked it… so everything’s good.

Nonna: *barely notices Matteo agreeing to her words about “hopefully” but still saves it in the back of her mind so that she can pay attention in the future if he’ll keep using that word or not* *then hears him say that David will really move into Matteo’s room and that his sister can move into another room* Ahhh… Madrid! It’s supposed to be very nice there… *but then really has to tell him the story about how they moved into their house so that Matteo can understand that living in such close quarters can also be an advantage and that you can get used to it very quickly and that you can even enjoy it* *sees him smile when she tells the story and beams* *therefore adds* Wasn’t even that uncomfortable. But then we had overnight guests one day and your grandfather was embarrassed to tell them that we sleep in the living room even though we have such a nice bedroom. And so we slept upstairs! And I’m telling you: Bed and couch - that really is a difference. And since that day… we just spent all our time in the bedroom instead of the living room… *sees Matteo looking at her a little horrified and laughs* No, that was a joke, my dear. We only went up there to sleep, of course… *then shakes her head when he talks about David’s father* And what does his mother say to all of that?! I mean, her husband is basically against their son! Well I would have told him off for that. Or are they separated and David’s mother isn’t really aware of everything? *then laughs again at Matteo’s words about God* I’m pretty sure that God likes you. Who wouldn’t like you!? It’s nice that your mother is so relaxed about it *then frowns and looks at him in confusion* *lifts her hands and interrupts him* LGB… what? *shakes her head* Is that some modern thing where your old Nonna has no clue!?

Matteo: *has to laugh slightly when she tells him that his grandfather was embarrassed and can imagine that really well* *then looks horrified for a second when he thinks his grandmother insinuates something* *but then looks at her a little amused* He was a creature of habit… but he did love the house later… *then grimaces again when his grandmother asks further questions about David’s family* No they’re not separated… but she does take a stand against him… well by now, at first that apparently wasn’t so easy, either… *then shakes his head a little amused when she asks who wouldn’t like them* *briefly feels bad when his grandmother doesn’t know what LGBT is and that he used the term just like that* That’s a term, an acronym for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender, but also for all the other sexualities and genders that aren’t heteronormative… I don’t know if it’s so modern, the acronym might be…

Nonna: *nods strongly and laughs when Matteo says that his grandfather was a creature of habit* Oh yes! The news at 7 and dinner at 8 please! Without taking any consideration! There were guests over but your grandfather had to watch the news at 7! Christmas? He had to watch the news at 7! We’re invited to a birthday party? Your grandfather asks for a TV shortly before 7 so that he can watch the news… *then lets him tell her about David’s parents some more and looks a little dissatisfied when Matteo talks about the mother* *murmurs* Well, at least something. But I don’t understand why it wasn’t that easy at first… if she herself is okay with it and supports David… then you have to stay true to your opinion. No matter if it’s friends, strangers or your husband! And you have to protect your child. Well, but poppycock… you said that now she’s putting her foot down against him and that’s what matters. And you’ll just keep your distance from the father and that’s it. You don’t have to deal with something like that! *listens to him interestedly when he explains what LGBT means, but then frowns again* Well… by now I know what lesbian and gay means. Bisexual is if you can’t decide, isn’t it? Well if you want to be with both women and men? And transgender? I’ve never heard of that… is that something new? *frowns even more and grabs her head* All other sexualities and genders!? What else is there? Do you get these things taught in school nowadays or how do you know all of that? How are old people supposed to keep up? There are only two genders, aren’t there? Man and woman… Help, that’s so complicated! You know, I do want to go with the times and understand all of that, but I really don’t know anything about it!

Matteo: *laughs slightly* Oh yes, I remember that… always the news, no matter if we were playing at that moment or not, he got up and went to the TV… *then nods at her words* Believe me, I don’t understand that either, Nonna. But I’m happy for David that she’s doing it at least now. *then hears her reaction to his explanation and curses himself for even bringing it up* *runs his hand through his hair* I’m no expert, either, Nonna… but I can tell you that transgender has always existed, all of that has always existed. But it was a taboo and not really known because the society was difficult. And bisexual isn’t if you can't choose, that’s just when you’re both into men and women. That's like your orange juice example. *grins slightly* They just say that they like both orange juice and apple juice, simple as that. *takes a deep breath and hopes that he will be able to explain transgender rationally* And transgender… well that’s when you're a man but were born as a woman, or vice versa. It feels wrong from the beginning but you don’t really know what it is until you google it or… if you’re brave then you ask other people and then you maybe understand what’s going on with you and then you can finally do something so that you can live the way you are. *presses his lips together because that was more emotionally than he had planned* And it’s not bad if you don’t know things. It’s only bad to judge people just because you don’t know things… but you’re asking, and that’s good…

Nonna: *frowns when Matteo says that all of that has always existed* *really never heard of it* *finds it difficult to understand it and also thinks that the example with the orange juice isn’t really that good because most people really do like to drink both orange juice and apple juice* *but refrains from saying something because she remembers the discussion with Philippo and how he told her off when she judged Mattoe because he now has a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend* *in hindsight thinks that he was right and has already planned back then to not judge anyone for that anymore because Philippo has made it clear several times that you don’t choose who you feel attracted to and that it’s just something that’s within you from birth* *really tries to remember that while listening to Matteo, but still looks a little confused when he explains what transgender means* *holds up her hand to interrupt him for a second* Hang on, hang on! That means someone is born as a girl but feels like a boy the entire time?! Or the other way round… And then?! The people still see you as a girl and address you that way. You can’t just explain every time that you're actually a boy… or don’t people like that do that? Do they just continue to live in the wrong body!? Gosh, that’s really very complicated nowadays… *doesn’t notice that Matteo is suddenly emotional because she’s very preoccupied with understanding what he told her* *then hears him say that it’s not a bad thing if you don’t know things and smiles* Yes, I ask questions… I’ve learned that because of you, my boy! Well, or rather because of Philippo. He made it clear to me how much I hurt you with my reaction. And I don’t want that! I don’t want to hurt anybody! And you especially! But it’s good that you say I can ask questions… in the past no one talked about that. What do you think… Back then, everyone used to believe that these things didn’t exist… Good thing that you’re so educated today and that it’s normal for you to meet people who… well… aren’t the norm…

Matteo: *presses his lips together when his grandmother asks* *slightly shakes his head* Well, so you can dress and style and present yourself the way you feel… and there’s also medical help of course… but that would maybe really be a little too complicated to explain all of that Nonna… *thinks about all the things David also did or still does and what all of that entails* *thinks that this is really more for David to talk about that if he ever came out to his grandmother* *then smiles slightly when she talks about Philippo and once again plans on texting him* Yes, it’s really good that we’re so educated… a lot of people worked hard to make that happen... *takes another sip and looks at his grandmother* And if you have any more questions you can also call me, Nonna.

Nonna: *nods at Matteo’s words and lightly hits herself on the head* Of course… dressing and styling… sure… as a man I can let my hair grow and wear makeup if I’m actually a woman… and as a woman then short hair and such… of course… *then shakes her head a little* But medical. You mean… surgeries? *points at her chest and the crutch and gets a little embarrassed, but tries to hide that by talking* Isn’t that way too much effort? And way too risky?! Do a lot of people do that? *then nods when he agrees with her and smiles when he says that she can also call him whenever she has questions* I will, my boy… Gosh, how did we even start this serious topic!? I actually wanted to know more about David… oh yes, your mother found a group at church - that’s really great! That there are more people who believe that being gay and religion can work together… I’m sure she’s talking about you very proudly there… or the both of you… I mean if David and her get along so well… but I think David is just as amicable as she is, right?! He at least seems like he’d get along with a lot of people… well, from what I’ve seen so far… *laughs* Well that’s not much… I don’t understand him, after all… but he seems attentive… and he’s always keeping an eye out for you… as if he’d constantly check that you’re okay… do you fight often? Sometimes people have to fight, I hope you know that. That can be very cleansing… Oh, I wish I could understand him… then I could get a better judgment of him… you’ll just have to tell me more about him… I actually only know that he’s an artist and that you know each other from school. But what else does he like? And what do you like about him?

Matteo: *nods slightly when she’s talking about dressing and styling* Yes, exactly… *slowly starts to feel more and more uncomfortable because he feels like he’s somehow lying to her or that he’s betraying David by talking so much about this topic* *but then has to laugh, after all, when she’s pointing at her chest and crutch so embarrassed* *slightly presses his lips together when she’s talking about too much effort* Mhmmm, it is a lot of effort, a surgery like that… but a price that a lot of people like to pay to feel comfortable… and that’s not the only thing, you also get injections for what you’re lacking… well testosterone or estrogen… *then has to laugh again when she wonders how they go to that topic and when she then mentions David* *then shrugs one shoulder when it’s about his mother* Yeah, I suppose so… *then grins slightly* Yes, David is great… and very amicable… you would like him even more if you could understand him, I’m sure. *then tilts his head a little* I wouldn’t say fighting, but sometimes we have different opinions… *smiles when she asks what he likes about him* Well… he likes sandwiches and he likes movies, he keeps showing me movies that, according to him, you have to see, but I don’t really know too much about that, but I’ll just let him do his thing… he likes to learn new things and he’s very driven and ambitious… he goes through with things when he planned it… but the can also be lazy and silly and spontaneous… *smiles slightly* I like all of those things about him… and that I can be myself… I feel comfortable and I like to see and hear him laugh… and if he tells me something then I believe him… that isn’t the case with that many people… and when he concentrates then he puts his hands on the back of his neck… like that… *shows her and grins very broadly while doing so* No idea why, but I like it… *then realizes that he was talking as much as his grandmother and only about David, to boot* *takes a sip in embarrassment* *says in a low voice* Yes, umm… stuff like that.

Nonna: *gapes when Matteo says that estrogen or testosterone can also be injected* That exists!? Unbelievable how far medicine has come nowadays, isn’t it? That really wouldn’t have been imaginable when I was young. But of course… that makes the appearance easier… *laughs loudly when he suspects that she’d like David even more if she could understand him* Well then the boy should hurry up and learn Italian! When you’re young you’re supposed to learn languages really quickly! *then hears his words about arguments and nods* At least something! Otherwise it will also get boring if you’re always of the same opinion, right?! I had a friend once - she always agreed on everything I said! That was horrible! I felt like she didn’t even have her own opinion. That got boring really quickly. She eventually moved to Rome. And I wasn’t really sad about that… *then gets quiet when she realizes that she interrupted Matteo again and that he actually wanted to talk about David* *presses her lips together pointedly to show him that she’s now ready to listen to him* *sees him smile when he starts talking and listens to him attentively* *finds it a little unusual that he’s suddenly talking so much and only once quietly murmurs* Nice… that sounds very nice… *then hears him tell her all the things he likes about David and suddenly feels a small lump in her throat when he says that “he can be himself”, because this shows her that apparently this wasn’t so for Matteo in the past* *can feel how much he has to trust David and quickly swallows down the lump in her throat because that’s actually a good thing* *smiles when he imitates David’s concentration gesture and then feels like he gets embarrassed* *doesn’t really understand why and therefore leans forward a little* *doesn’t really know what to say right now and opens her mouth twice* *then laughs and shakes her head* Look at what you did, boy! You made your old Nonna speechless! Something like that really doesn’t happen very often! *gets serious again and collects herself* Do you know when the last time was that you told me about something with this much enthusiasm!? The summer you dared to go back into the water again despite being afraid if the water sprites! “Nonna,” you said, “it really worked! The trick with the seashells worked!” and then you enthusiastically told me about your plans and what you wanted to do in the water over the next few days and that you want to take different seashells into the water each day so that the water sprite can have a big selection… *takes a deep breath and then says* That all sounds really nice. I’m happy that your David makes you so happy and I really wish for you that you’ll stay this happy for a very long time!

Matteo: *really is a little embarrassed because he was so open and emotional* *but sees the look on his Nonna’s face and knows that he can be like that with her* *has to smile slightly when she opens and closes her mouth twice* *then laughs* Making you speechless? I’ve never managed that. *then listens to her and has to chuckle when she tells him the story about the water sprites* *remembers only too well how happy he had been to be able to go back into the water again without being afraid* *thinks that this is really comparable, that to some extent David also took the fear from him* *smiles* Oh, he’ll like it that he and the water sprites can manage to get me talking… because he really loved that story… *then gets a little embarrassed again when she’s talking about “your” David and when she’s so happy for them* Thanks, Nonna… I really wish for that, as well…

Nonna: *laughs even more when Matteo also laughs and shakes her head* Right! Up until now you haven’t! And there are also only few people who can manage… *then looks at him in surprise* You’ve told him the story about the water sprites!? Back then you begged me to never talk about it with anyone! And you didn’t want to tell anyone, either. At first I still thought that you wanted to have a secret together with me and the water sprites, but when you got older and this story was mentioned I rather felt like you were embarrassed… as if the story was made up and you fell for it! But I told you then and I’m telling you now: The story is true and if someone shouldn’t believe you then only because he’s never run into a water sprite! *nods strongly* *then smiles slightly when he says that he also wishes for David and him to be happy for a long time, but then asks* And David? Does he also want that?

Matteo: *smiles very broadly when she insists on the story with the water sprites and loves her a little more for it* *nods slightly* David knew half of the story from Mama and he kept asking… well, eventually I gave in. But as I said, he thought it was awesome and now he also wants to take seashells with him into the ocean. *then swallows slightly at her question and can see David’s face, his smile when they were planning their hypothetical apartment* *smiles slightly and nods a little* Yes, I think so…

Nonna: *grins happily when Matteo tells her that David believes the story* A wise boy! You should always carry seashells with you in the ocean! I hope he also has bathing trunks with pockets? You still have, do you? Pockets? That’s important! And it’s easier for you men than for us! You find a bathing suit with pockets! Nearly impossible! I always have to sew my own pockets into them! *frowns when Matteo seems to only “think” the answer to her question* What is that supposed to mean, “you think”!? Haven’t you asked him!? I thought you were so happy and want it to stay that way!? I thought you were convinced that you’ll still bring him along to your old Nonna in 10 years!? Then you have to nail him down, Matteo! You have to hold onto him and show and tell him that you want all of that. You have to ask him what he wants and you have to tell him what you want! That’s how this works, or is that different nowadays!? If you both don’t say what you want, where is that supposed to lead to, heavens!? You think… *pfffs quietly and shakes her head* …you should delete ”i think” from your vocabulary, just like “hopefully”... *takes another sip*

Matteo: *laughs slightly* Of course my swimming trunks still have pockets! So do David’s! *actually isn’t so sure, especially not when it comes to David, but thinks that he can just claim that it’s true* *at first has to laugh again when she’s so outraged again* *but then shakes his head a little toward the end* Nonna, Nonna… we’ve only been together for 3 months… of course we also talk about the future, but not that earnestly yet… I want to be with him and he wants to be with me. Here and now. And if that feeling doesn’t change… which I expect… then we’ll still want that in 10 years. But I can’t just claim to know how David will feel in 10 years. *takes the last sip and pushes the glass a little away from him* But I’m happy that you worry so much about my relationship…

Nonna: *nods satisfied when Matteo mentions the pocket and murmurs* That’s good then… *hears Matteo laugh at her words and looks at him skeptically* *then hears his words and huffs for a second* That’s not what I meant! Not how you guys feel but what you guys want! *then shakes her head immediately when he says she was worried about his relationship and claims* I’m not! I still don’t believe that you’ll bring him along again next year! You’ll first have to prove that to me! But I do admit that you made me think! You’re the first grandchild that tells me loud and clear that I’ll get my next time with their partner. Whenever I hint at this with the others they only laugh and shrug, did you know that!? So what am I supposed to think!? Of course then I’ll think that nowadays relationships aren’t really worth much anymore! And if you claim the opposite then I either have to think that you’re totally naive and if you ever broke up then you’d be incredibly lovesick or I have to think that you’ll really stand in front of me in 10 years telling me: “You see, Nonna, I told you so!” So that’s the only reason I worry about your relationship… *slaps her hand on the table and reaches for her glass again* *murmurs quietly and a little grumblingly* Well, okay… and maybe also because you seem so happy…

Matteo: *listens to her* *immediately feels snubbed again when she says that she doesn’t believe that he’ll stay together with David* *keeps listening to her and understands what she means* *tilts his head a little* What if both of those things are true? I’d definitely be incredibly lovesick if we ever broke up but I also /want/ that this never happens. But I can’t look into the future, either, can I? Why is it so wrong to think or to hope? Being sure isn’t always that good, either. I want David to be happy and that I am happy. And I hope that it’ll always be the case that we’ll be the happiest when we’re together, but how am I supposed to know this for certain? I want that all of this works out, but I don’t know it. *tilts his head slightly when she says that he’s so happy* I’m happy and I want to stay happy. That has to be enough for now…

Nonna: *looks at him questioningly when she hears his question* *then shakes her head when he asks what’s wrong about thinking and hoping* There’s nothing wrong with thinking and hoping, no! And I don’t want to say that you have to know everything instead! It’s not about knowing, my boy! Not about “being certain”, no! None of us can know that! We don’t know if I’ll even be here in 10 years, either, so that you can tell me: “You see, Nonna, I told you so!”. We don’t know if tomorrow the sun will really shine or if it rains, after all. We don’t know if we’ll win the lottery next week… And of course you can’t know if David and you will still be together in 10 years. *then laughs quietly* But you said it quite right, my boy: You want! You want the two of you to be happy! You want all of that to work! You don’t know that, of course! But one’s willpower is always stronger than hope or thinking. *laughs* Yeees, now you’ll surely think that your old Nonna is super meticulous… but believe me, there’s a difference! One might not pay too much attention to it while speaking… but you spoke of everything… of knowing, of hoping, of thinking, of wanting… but wanting, that’s what really matters!

Matteo: *looks at her and really lets her words sink in* *Is she right? Is wanting really what matters most?* *thinks that he actually never really wanted much or that often he didn’t want things hard enough so that he just let them slide* *also thinks that he wanted for his mother to be well and for his father to stay* *therefore thinks that not everything you want works out* *but then smiles when he thinks of David and how much he wants* *shakes his head at the end* You’re not meticulous, Nonna, you’re right… wanting is what matters… *simply takes her hand and squeezes it for a moment* And I want to. I want to be able to tell you in 10 years: “You see, I told you, Nonna.” *then laughs briefly* Does it have to be 10 years? Is that the only timespan that will convince you?

Nonna: *can see that Matteo seems to think about it and briefly opens her mouth to add further explanations, but closes it again because she actually said everything that's important and because Matteo is a smart guy who will probably understand what she means* *smiles proudly when, after some time, he says that she’s right and when he takes his hand, she immediately takes Matteo’s hand with her free one* *slightly squeezes back and nods happily when he says that he wants* That’s what I wanted to hear! Very good! *then also laughs and lets go of his hand again* *shakes her head and waves it off* Oh, maybe I’ll already be convinced after 9 years… maybe you’ll also decide to get married after seven years and I’m allowed to come to your wedding… that might also convince me… I’ll let you know… but first I want that the two of you will come to my birthday next year and then we’ll see, right?

WhatsApp David/Matteo: David: What do you like better? Tesorino or Ciccino? I hope you have a good conversation with your grandmother… I’m thinking of you! See you later <3

Matteo: *grins when she says that she could also be convinced before that* A wedding /might/ also convince you? *laughs* Oh, you’re awesome! But don’t worry, of course you’re invited! *nods immediately* We’ll do that, we’ll convince you visit by visit. *then feels his phone vibrate and pulls it from his pocket* Sorry… *peeks on it and sees that it’s from David* Maybe David needs something… *reads the message and has to smile automatically* *quickly answers*

WhatsApp Matteo/David: Matteo: Did you seriously google Italian pet names? That’s both sappy… so exactly right for us ;) Pick one. Everything’s good with Nonna… see you soon/later :*

Nonna: *smiles slightly when he emphasizes “might” like that and when he then confirms that she’s invited* *waves it off* Oh, in that case I don’t wanna be like that. We’ll officially cancel the “might” when there’s a “wedding”... *sighs quietly and looks at Matteo with a smile* *would really wish for him that he can keep his luck since he seems so in love and so happy* *nods at his suggestion* We’ll do it like that… *only shakes her head a little when he apologizes for reaching for his phone* *then hears that it’s David and asks immediately* Is he feeling worse? Does he need a tablet, after all?! Should we have checked on him? We’re here talking and having fun and the poor boy is lying up there… *then stops talking when she sees Matteo’s smile and waits patiently until he’s finished* *then asks a lot more calmer and also with a smile* Everything alright? What made you smile like that?

WhatsApp David/Matteo: David: Who says that I googled that!? I somehow just came up with those names… weird, right? Hmmm…. I think then I’ll take tesorino… that sounds nice… well at least until I find something even nicer. I’m happy that it’s going well with your grandmother. A dopo, tesorino :-*

Matteo: *grins when his grandmother relents* Sounds fair… *briefly looks at her when she asks so worried* *but first types back before he explains* No, I think resting was good for him, but he gets bored quickly… maybe I’ll go upstairs soon? *looks at her a little questioningly* *then sees that he received a reply* *grins slightly and quickly texts back*

WhatsApp Matteo/David: Matteo: Yeah, yeah, sure… we’ll talk about that again. A presto, tesorino… I’ll have to get used to this first

Nonna: *is relieved to hear that David is feeling better* That’s good! So apparently no sun stroke, after all… if that had been the case he definitely would have puked, as well… *then laughs* He gets bored quickly? He’s an artist! If he feels better then he should just draw me something nice… *tilts her head at Matteo’s question, laughs and shrugs* I can’t answer that for you, my boy… *then smiles and asks* Do you /want/ to go upstairs? *then sees that David has apparently replied and that Matteo is texting him back* *eyes him* You young people are so quick with those things… Mario keeps telling me that he’ll buy me one of those things for Christmas, but I don’t think that I’ll ever use it. What am I supposed to do with a mobile phone!? I have my good old landline…

WhatsApp David/Matteo: David: You’ll manage… non vedo l’ore di dopo.

Matteo: *laughs as well* Yes, well… maybe he doesn’t want to draw all the time? *grins and shakes his head a little in amusement when she asks him if he wants to* I always want to be with him, Nonna, but I also want to spend time with you… *laughs when she talks about the phone* Oh, Nonna, you could learn it, but only if you /want/ to, if not then don’t, then leave it at your landline and let other people print photos for you. I have so many great photos on my phone, all of them in one place and saved… *waves his phone but then gets David’s message and laughs* He’s not bored, after all, he’s busy learning Italian… he can already say “non vedo l’ore di dopo” and “tesorino” *grins slightly*

Nonna: *pensively looks at Matteo when he suspects that David doesn’t always want to draw and finally shrugs* *then beams when Matteo says that he always wants to be with David but that he also wants to spend time with her* That’s so nice, Matteo my boy… that you don’t forget your old Nonna just because you’re so in love… but it’s already late and I’ll soon need my sleep… maybe you could help me bring the dishes to the kitchen and then I’ll go to bed and you’ll go join your David and make sure that he’s not bored anymore… *then laughs when he’s talking about the phone beating her at her own game* Alright, you’ve caught me! Maybe I don’t want to learn it. Maybe I enjoy bothering my grandchildren by asking them to send me photos on paper, although you’re also right, of course: A woman has to take care of her own things. Maybe I’ll give the phone a tiny chance and if it doesn’t do what I want it to, then Mario can just take it with him again! *then hears Matteo laughing and soon gets an explanation for it* *grins very broadly* Yes, very important words! He’s setting good priorities! And a good boy, really very ambitious - just like you said. And I’m under the impression that I’m also a small reason for why he’s learning Italian, or what do you think? Does he want to impress me? *laughs again* Although he probably looked up “tesorino” for you rather than me…

Matteo: *smiles when she’s so happy* *nods* I will never forget you, Nonna… *thinks that he missed her, that he wants to come more often, that he wants to call her more often, but doesn’t say any of it* *thinks that he’ll just have to do it* *then laughs slightly when she talks about the phone some more* You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Nonna… if you don’t feel like it, then don’t do it. *has to smile when she’s talking about David again* He definitely also learns it because of you, as well. He knows how important you are to me, so he wants you to like him. But yes, I suppose tesorino was rather for me… *grins and then sits up again* Well, you know what? Why don’t you just go to bed already and I’ll take care of this here? As thanks and all that…

Nonna: *nods* You’re right! I don’t have to prove anything to anyone… But such a device can also be quite useful, I heard… we’ll see! There’s still some time until Christmas… *would never admit that she’s actually interested but that she’s scared that she can’t manage a such a phone or that she’ll do something wrong* *then laughs at Matteo’s explanation about David’s Italian and shakes her head* Well to me it sounds more like he’d rather learn it for you. If he wants me to like him because I’m important to /you/… This means if I wasn’t important to you then he wouldn’t even bother!? He doesn’t need to worry… I trust my grandson’s good taste and I like him - with or without speaking Italian. He laughs a lot, takes care of you, makes you happy and he apparently has his heart in the right spot. What else do you want!? *then sees Matteo sit up and looks at him in surprise when he offers to clear up* *wants to disagree with him at first, but accepts his offer, after all, because she realizes that she’s really tired* *gets up and shakes her head* No, no, my boy! Not as thanks! There’s nothing to thank me for, you hear!? You’re welcome to clean up for no reason and to do me a favor, but I won’t let it come to you having to thank me… what even for!? For you being here!? Don’t be silly… *pulls him up by his arms and then puts her hands on either side of his cheeks* You’re welcome here anytime, you hear!? Don’t forget that! *then pulls him into a hug and squeezes him close*

Matteo: *smiles slightly when she says that apparently David is learning it for him, after all* *shrugs one shoulder* Well, maybe… but he also likes you… and he wants to talk to you… so he doesn’t do it just for me. *laughs slightly when she refuses his thank-you gesture* *was just about to agree when she pulls him up* *then feels her hands on his cheek and finds this feeling so familiar and nice that he has to swallow* *only nods slightly at her addition because he can’t speak right now* *then wraps his arms around her and returns the hug* *was just about to thank her again, but he was just forbidden from doing so* *therefore says quietly* You’re the best, Nonna.

Nonna: *is happy when Matteo says that David wants to talk to her and that he likes her and is a little bit curious to see if David is really as ambitious as Matteo said he was and if he’ll already be able to talk more Italian when they visit the next time* *plans on giving him another small lesson again tomorrow at breakfast* Well, for whomever he’s doing it… you can always use Italian knowledge! *smiles when Matteo returns her hug and runs a hand through his hair before she lets go of him again* *gets a little embarrassed at his words and lightly hits him on the arm* You old charmer… thank you! *takes her glass and the bottle of water to take it inside with her and looks from the rest of the dishes to Matteo* Just put it in the kitchen… I’ll wash it tomorrow morning. *then smiles at him again* Sleep tight and say hi to David for me. I hope he feels better and that he’ll be fit again tomorrow. Maybe we can go to Ravenna to the city center again - he didn’t see that much last time… why don’t you ask him when you get upstairs… well… good night, my boy! *lifts the water bottle as a sign of goodbye and goes back into the house*

Matteo: *grins slightly when she calls him an old charmer* *that seems familiar to him* *nods when she gives him instructions* I will… *also smiles and then nods again* I’ll tell him… good night, Nonna… *sees her go back into the house and sits down again for a second* *looks into the garden and thinks about their conversation again* *think that his grandmother is really wise and that maybe he should call her more often to ask her for advice* *then grabs his phone to see if he missed anything* *sees that there was some activity in the chats and that David apparently wrote updates to everyone* *types back in some of them and then texts David*

WhatsApp Matteo/David: Matteo: I’ll just quickly clear the stuff up here and then I’ll come upstairs.

*picks himself up and carries the stuff into the kitchen* *has to walk back and forth a few times* *then puts the stuff back into the fridge and puts the dishes at least into the sink* *directly goes to the bathroom so that he won’t have to go again later* *then goes into their room and sees David on the bed* *thinks that he really missed him even though he hasn’t seen him for about only two hours* *smiles slightly* Hey… *then drops down on the bed next to him and immediately wraps an arm around him and cuddles close* Everything good?

David: *has rested for a while and realized that lying down really did his butt some good* *has given an update in several chats and then really studied some Italian* *is now able to lie on his back again quite well and is happy when Matteo texts him that he’ll be upstairs soon* *while he waits he quickly goes to the bathroom and gets ready for bed - he had already taken off the binder earlier when he got upstairs* *has the Italian app opened when Matteo finally comes into the room, looks at him and has to smile automatically* *puts the phone aside and reaches his arms out for him* *grins slightly and says quietly* Ciao tesorino… *immediately wraps his arms around Matteo when he lies down next to him and presses a kiss to his hair* *grumbles contentedly at his question* Hmmm… yes… and now even better… *briefly closes his eyes and breathes in the typical Matteo-smell, that feels so much like home* *eventually asks quietly* And what about you? How was it?

Matteo: *smiles when he calls him tesorino and thinks that he could really get used to this* *presses his nose even more against David’s neck and breathes him in* *grumbles something in content when David says that he’s doing good* *then hears his question and thinks about it for a moment* It was good… Nonna really is the best… she’s so clear and certain in some things… sometimes that’s really quite good… *moves his head a little and looks up at him* And she likes you a lot… and she finds it really great that you’re learning Italian…

David: *smiles when Matteo says that it was good and nods slightly at his explanation* *murmurs quietly* I can imagine… clarity and such… *wonders what they might have talked about but doesn’t get the chance to ask because Matteo immediately continues* *chuckles quietly and grins when he hears that his grandmother likes him* *looks down at him* And how was she able to decide that she likes me? So far, she wasn’t really able to understand much of what I said… *automatically leans a little down to Matteo and quickly presses a tender kiss to his lips, just because he’s on withdrawal and he can reach him so well right now*

Matteo: *grins slightly when he asks how she was able to decide that* Your aura… *wiggles his eyebrows* *then gets kissed and immediately kisses him again* Hmmm, no, she says that you’re always friendly and you smile and that you watch out for me and that you make me happy… *shrugs one shoulder* That’s enough for her.

David: *grins very broadly and nods with raised eyebrows when Matteo says his aura is the reason* I see… of course… *laughs quietly and shakes his head a little* *but then hears what she really said and presses his lips together with a slight smile* *is happy that she pays attention to and values such things even though they can’t really talk to each other* *doesn’t really know what to say and therefore says exaggeratedly and fake confident* Yeees… because I’m the best… *but then laughs and leans back again a little more relaxed* *tenderly cards through Matteo’s hair, is quiet for a moment and then asks quietly and a little sluggish and tired* And in which areas did it do you some good that she was so clear and certain? *turns his head and touches his lips against his forehead* *quietly says against his skin* ...well only if you want to talk about it… *then kisses his forehead and just leaves his lips there*

Matteo: *laughs when he hears his answer* Yes, definitely, the absolute best… *closes his eyes when he cards through his hair and relaxes* *runs his own hand over David’s side almost automatically* *then hears his question and immediately gets a little insecure* *doesn’t know what he wants to tell him and what he doesn’t* *briefly presses his lips together while he thinks about it* Hmmm…. we talked about the fact that there are differences in how you see things… or rather, how your attitude is… she was very meticulous about the difference between knowing and wanting… and thinking and hoping… I didn’t think thinking and hoping were so bad… she did… well, she says that it’s not enough to hope, you have to want it and that there’s a difference… *laughs briefly* Sorry, that sounds really confusing when I hear it now, but earlier it somehow made sense.

David: *only grins when Matteo says that he’s the absolute best and closes his eyes when Matteo starts to run his hand along his side* *enjoys the touches for a moment before he picks up their conversation again* *listens to Matteo and nods at first* *then frowns and tries to understand with an example what he and his grandmother mean, but can’t really think of a good example right now* *also laughs quietly when Matteo apologizes and humms* Yes, somehow it really is confusing… I think you just have to let it sink in first… *keeps thinking about it and eventually says hesitantly* So if I apply for a university spot then it’s not enough to hope or think that I’ll get one… then I have to want to get one… but I can’t know it…? *grins slightly* Something like that? *sighs briefly and then says* Well I think I can understand your grandmother a little… I think if you approach something with “wanting to”, like if you say: “I want this university spot!” then it somehow really has a different energy than just hoping or thinking… right? *laughs quietly* Still confusing… then it totally depends on the choice of words… I’ve never really thought about that…

Matteo: *laughs slightly when he agrees with him* *then hears his example and nods* Yes, exactly… *then nods again* Yes, that’s what she meant… I often say that I hope or think and she said that I should make myself aware of it… she is right, isn’t she? There’s a difference between saying: “I hope I’ll get the job” or if you say “I want the job!” *tilts his head a little and then moves it so that he’s right in front of David’s face* But I thought about that enough for today… *grins slightly and then kisses him* *murmurs against his lips* Mi sei mancato

David: *listens to Matteo and frowns again* *hasn’t really noticed yet that Matteo often says “I hope” or “I think” and plans on also paying some attention to it from now on, because somehow he can’t really imagine it because otherwise he would have noticed it before* *but finally nods and murmurs* Hmmm… yes, there is a difference… different energy… *briefly wonders what exactly they were talking about and if he should ask, when Matteo scoots so that he can look at him directly* *smiles immediately and turns a little to his side* *nods when he says that he’s thought about it enough and also puts the topic behind him for the time being* *murmurs quietly* Okay… *then gets kissed and wraps his arm around him tighter to pull him closer* *naturally can’t understand what Matteo murmurs against his lips and therefore asks a little distracted* Hmmm?

Matteo: *chuckles happily when David kisses him back* *runs one hand through his hair* *wanted to kiss him again when he hears David’s question* *realizes only then that he was speaking Italian* Oh, sorry… I said that I missed you… *kisses him briefly* There was still Italian in my head…

David: *slightly shakes his head when Matteo apologizes and grins slightly* You know exactly that I like it when you speak Italian… and one day I’ll surely understand more of what you’re saying… *then pulls him closer again and also kisses him briefly again* *then looks at him and smiles while his hand is drawing little circles on Matteo’s back* *tries to remember Matteo’s words and eventually says quietly and questioningly* Mi sei mancato anche? *is pretty uncertain if “anche” really means “also” and if it was correct to just add it to the end of the sentence but thinks that he has already read it like this or similar to this today*

Matteo: *laughs slightly* One day you’ll be so good that we can have a conversation when the others annoy us… *gets another kiss and was about to kiss him again when David speaks Italian* *has to smile immediately* *but then sees his uncertain look and nods immediately* It’s correct… you natural… *kisses him again and then again a little longer* *but then realizes that he wants more and pulls back with a slight sigh* *then asks half seriously and half jokingly* When did we want to leave again? Now?

David: *smiles proudly at first and then a little embarrassed when Matteo calls him a natural* *then gets another kiss and squeezes Matteo closer when he deepens the kiss* *can feel pretty quickly that he’s really on withdrawal and that he actually wants more and immediately grimaces and grumbles in protest when Matteo pulls back* *then hears his question and has to laugh quietly* *says a little desperately* Yes, please… *picks the kiss back up a little more tenderly this time and cuddles closer again* *immediately feels again that all of this isn’t really enough and quietly murmurs against his lips* I’d say we try to be quiet but I think we’re so much on withdrawal that we couldn’t manage…

Matteo: *also has to laugh when David sounds just as desperate as he feels* Shit… *then gets another kiss and immediately cuddles close again* *immediately wants more again* *then hears David’s suggestion and groans in desperation* Dude, stop it… *looks at him and tilts his head* We could go outside again… or abscond tomorrow…

David: *grins slightly when Matteo tells him to stop* *then sees his look and also tilts his head a little* *hears his words and lets them sink in* *then grins slightly and slightly wiggles his eyebrows* Sex on the beach? Now!? *guesses that by now it must be almost 11 pm and just hopes that the beach will be empty and that they might find a protected spot somewhere in the dunes* *but realizes that he doesn’t want to think about dysphoria right now or the fact that they might be seen - after all, he knows from last night that it’s really empty and also pitch black at this time of day* *sits up and reaches for his binder before Matteo has even answered*

Matteo: *looks at him with wide eyes when he’s really on board* Yeah? Really? *then sees him reach for his binder and immediately sits up* *hugs him from behind even before he can get changed and presses a kiss to his throat* Ti amo, tesorino. *grins very broadly and then gets off the bed to wait for David*

David: *laughs quietly when Matteo asks a little disbelievingly* Yeees… really! And desperate and on withdrawal… *was just about to take off his shirt to put on the binder when he gets hugged from behind and hears Matteo’s words* *grins a little sheepishly and can feel a strong tingling of love in his stomach again* *doesn’t get the chance to return his words because Matteo immediately gets off the bed and so he hurries up with getting changed* *then also gets off the bed and puts his shoes on* *wraps one arm around Matteo when he reaches him by the door, quickly kisses his ear and murmurs quietly* I love you, too, tesorino… *then kisses his neck again and grins slightly because he remembers what they are about to do* *grumbles a little impatiently and reaches for the door handle* And now let’s go...

(next play)

#druck #druck og #matteo florenzi #david schreibner #davenzi #davenzi plays

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fartoo-sensitive · 3 years

Text

the itch and the ache

i've been working on this all week!!! it's my first req and i'm super excited about it<3

word count: 1742

warnings: blood, gore, character death, angst, michael has feelings that are too big for him :(

character(s): michael myers x gn!reader

for @thirsting4slashers i hope you like it, b!!<3

michael gazed in through the open curtains of the living room window, his eyes tracking your every small movement. the flex of your fingers when you reached out to change the tv channel, the minute widening of your eyes when a program you liked flashed onto the screen, the flare of your nostrils when you popped some small snack into your mouth. he stood and watched, a tilt to his head and an unfamiliar ache in his chest.

the itch, the dark whisper in his soul that drove him towards his atrocities was becoming harder to ignore. usually, with you, he could shove it back. but the falling, changing leaves and the cooling air was making it almost impossible.

his hand twitched at his side.

inside the house you were completely unaware of the inner turmoil your guest - friend? something more? if you thought about the details of your flighty relationship with michael too much it left a bad taste in your mouth - was going through. you were laid out against the arm of the sofa, eyes trained on the television as your show flickered by, one hand cradling your head and the other in the bag of trail mix in your lap.

if you had looked over from the tv and out of the window you would have seen only the trees in the front yard casting shadows on the lawn; michael had made a decision.

it was all too easy for michael to slip into the house through the back door; you never locked it, not that it really would have stopped him if you did. you trusted the few neighbors you had and you had come to trust michael over the time you had let him into your home. he made sure to shut it without making a noise.

from where he stood in the entryway to the living room michael could just make out your figure over the back of the sofa, could hear the small breathy laughs you let out whenever something you deemed funny happened on screen.

the ache in his chest twinged, but this time he pushed that feeling away; it was so much easier to ignore the unfamiliar. the handle of the kitchen knife in his hand was smooth and felt like a friend in the only way he'd ever known before you, and the itch spread.

a commercial break had just started when a hand reached over the back of the sofa and gripped your throat, the arm it was attached to pinning your upper body against the furniture. your hands scrambled against the hand, fingernails digging into the flesh, and your eyes widened upon seeing the blue arm of the coveralls. they trailed up the arm and into the blank eyes of your attacker.

"michael?" you could barely get the word out, rough and tinny past your lips. "what are yo-"

the hand around your throat tightened, cutting you off, and in a desperate plea to save your life from whatever had happened to your friend to make him act this way, you laid back, pulling your legs up and kicking them over the back of the sofa and into michael's chest.

his grip loosened, you thought it was probably the shock of you fighting back against him, and he brought his other hand up, the one wielding the knife, bringing down against the side of your leg.

this time it was your own shock that had you seeing rather than feeling the cut that michael had inflicted, the blood dripping messily over the afghan your grandmother had made for you when you turned 18. you kicked him again, a searing pain leaching into the wound on your calf as you did, but this time his hand fell away from your throat completely.

you rolled off of the cushions to the floor, your knee ramming into the hardwood. you couldn't dwell on that pain, though, or the pain in your calf. you needed to run.

pushing yourself up from the floor, you quickly made your way to the far side of the living room, knocking what you could behind you to hopefully slow michael's pursuit. blood trailed behind you like a calling card.

michael watched you limp up the stairs, your breathing heavy and tears falling down your cheeks. the ache was a constant rhythm in his chest. he took a deep breath through his nose and followed the blood.

it wasn't a surprise to him when the trail ended outside the closed door to your bedroom. he could hear you crying on the other side of the wood, sharp hisses of pain intermingling with your fear and sadness. he tried the door handle and was almost surprised when he found it unlocked.

you stood in the corner of your room, a t-shirt wrapped tightly around the cut on your leg, and stared at michael. he watched you from the doorway, his head tilted.

"why are you doing this?"

the sound of your voice, not fearful the way he had assumed it would be but angry, broke his confusion. his knife hand spasmed.

you took a breath. "you don't have to do this, michael. where will you go?" the tears started falling afresh, and your voice broke when you whispered, "who will take care of you?"

because that's what you'd been doing all this time; taking care of michael. feeding him proper meals, washing his clothes and mending them, buying him new ones when needed, making sure he bathed, looking after any wounds he might sustain after a trip out of the house. who else would, or even could, do those things for him?

michael wished you would stop talking. your words were going straight to his chest and he didn't know what to do with them. you only made things harder every time you tried to make things easier for him. he couldn't have that anymore.

he took a step towards you, and then another, and soon he was only 5 feet away. he watched you as you watched him.

the second michael went to take another step, you dove for the bed, trying to force yourself over it and hopefully back to the door. but michael caught your ankle in his grasp.

he shoved you onto your back, pinning your arms beneath his legs at your sides and your body to the covers, glaring down at you. he cocked his head to the side when your eyes filled with tears again at the sight of him bringing his knife to the dip at the bottom of your throat.

"please," you begged. "please don't, michael."

the tip of the knife pricked your skin and the damn broke, the tears cascading down the sides of your face and into the duvet. you squeezed your eyes shut only for a moment until you felt michael's hand on your face, pinching your cheeks together tightly to get you to open your eyes again.

he pressed his fingers into the blood-soaked divot in your skin. it was a small cut, it barely hurt you, he knew, but still you were shaking.

the knife trailed down, stopping opposite your heart. another small pierce with the tip before michael's arm reared back and embedded the weapon in your chest.

a scream built up in your throat but died when nothing but blood spilled over your lips. he had just pierced the top of your right lung. you knew what was coming next. you knew michael. "don't," you whimpered.

he ripped the knife out, blood following and splattering on the bedspread. the knife fell out of his hand and he moved his already messy fingers over the wound. he ignored you, and this time moved the skin on either side of the opening to put his fingers inside you.

you screamed. it tasted like blood. your breath was gasping and you tried with what little strength you had to pull your arms from beneath michael, to get him to stop. but it was no use.

he pressed into the cavity, stretching around skin and muscle and through bone, blood a constant weeping along with the tears streaming down your face. he thought that maybe if he dug deep enough he could get to your heart before you died.

"michael." your voice was raspy, you could tell the lung he had hit had collapsed, and with his body wait on top of you added to the blood loss his digging was doing, it was only a matter of time. "i love you."

michael's fingers froze inside your chest, the ache in his burning white hot. he looked up at your face, the splotchy coloring of it, the snot dripping from your nose and mixing with the blood and tears on your chin. he ground his teeth together.

the itch told him to pick the knife back up, and so he did. it said he didn't need to dig in your chest to get to your heart, there was an easier way, and so he took it.

you had always assumed that being stabbed in the heart would kill someone instantly, but when michael pierced yours you stayed. you watched him with wide, sad eyes, and somehow finally, finally, got a hand free.

you laid your hand over top of his on the hand of the knife protruding from your chest. it hurt to breathe, and it hurt to move, but you needed to touch him. your fingers ghosted over his rough, scarred ones, committing them to memory that you probably would never have use for. once you had what you wanted, you nodded.

michael pulled the knife from your chest for the second time and watched you lose consciousness.

he wasn't sure how long he sat with you, but your breathing had long stopped by the time he moved again. carefully, he climbed off of your body. he moved you so that you were laying with your head on the pillows, one hand folded on your stomach and the other stretched out at your side. his ears were ringing.

he sat beside you on the bed, his hand only centimeters away from yours, and stared out the window across from him.

the itch was gone, for now. but the ache, oh that was stretching and burning and tearing at his insides.

he had made his decision, and maybe it was the first wrong one he'd made in his life.

#my writing #michael myers #halloween #halloween 2018 #michael myers x y/n #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #slasher one shot #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #slasher x you #michael myers imagine

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The General (Part 1): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: matchmaking day is upon you, and you’re in for more than just a partner.

wc: 2.1k

tw: none - just a bunch of backstory. (part 2 is going to be much more interesting and Geto WILL appear.)

masterlist

The trees along the grounds of your family’s estate are blooming in full force, once again signaling the coming of the most anticipated day of the year: matchmaking day. Beautiful petals of yellow, red, and pink would decorate the lawn and as a child, you would gather them up and toss them around. You imagined your wedding would be just as majestic as the coming of spring and that matchmaking day would be the happiest day of your life.

For years, you had watched your older siblings be married off to wonderful and loving partners, their names being called from the crowd of people who gathered in the village square every year. For years, you eagerly waited your turn to meet the love of your life. And last year - the year before you were set to make your debut in the matchmaking pool - you found him.

The man you wanted to be set up with - Yuko Hashinara - was perfect.

As the son of a potter, he wasn’t filthy rich, but for a whole six months, you dipped your hands into the kaolin just to get closer to him. Yuko seemed to take a liking to you too, his soft features and green eyes following you around the workshop while you made conversation or giggled over town gossip. He had even touched your hand tenderly once; the white clay smearing over your fingers with care. He hadn’t admitted that he loved you, but today would change all of that.

“Mother! What should I wear?” All of the formal wear in your closet now seemed too plain for what you planned on being your debut into society as Yuko’s Betrothed. You no longer had the scores of clothing your sisters offered or the keen eye of your eldest brother. It was just you now, and as the youngest, there was a need to show everyone you were just as worthy as your siblings of a perfect match.

Your mother bustles in hastily, attempting to fix your hair while you rifle through the clothing that’s available to you. “Don’t wear red; only whores wear red. Perhaps the hunter green one will do.” When you pull out the silk garment your mother detailed, your shoulders fall a bit, noting it’s plainness.

“But will this look attractive for Yuko?” you wonder, trying to see the dress in better lighting. Gold and brown swirls decorate the dress around the neck and hemline but it still looks inelegant. “You know, like I’m supposed to be his wife?” Your mother’s hands still on your hair, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said something wrong.

“This dress will look beautiful on you, like it did on your grandmother when she was matched with her husband.” Ah, yes. Grandmother. At the mention of the old matriarch, you’re silenced immediately, recalling the love she and your grandfather had upon their union. “We should only hope you are as lucky as she was to find a worthy match.”

“Yuko is a ‘worthy match’,” you retort, but your mother doesn’t reply, finishing your hairdo and stepping back to admire her handiwork.

“Now let’s get you dressed; we don’t have a lot of time.”

_______________________________________________________________________

When you arrive in the square with the other girls of the village, there is an uproar of chatter about who would be matched with who, and whether or not the matchmaker would be fair to some of the older girls who had never been matched with before.

You’re not overly friendly with any of the others gathered - due to your family’s estate being on the far side of the main village and as such, every trip into town required a long trek - but you’re welcomed nonetheless. As you stand in the cool, spring breeze, your eyes roam around the boys who were gathered on the left side of the square. Your eyes fall upon Yuko, and a sigh escapes your lips, your mind fluttering off to begin fantasies of the rest of your lives together. You would have an extravagant wedding, a lavish reception, and an equally attention-bringing birth of your first born: a son you’d already named in your head.

But as soon as you get to the day your son would take his first steps, the sound of the matchmaker’s voice echoes across the courtyard. She was short - very short - with small, beady eyes, and white hair that feel in a braid down her back. Her wrinkled skin holds all of the years she performed this ceremony, and you’re sure if you stare long enough that she might even shrink a little.

“We will now begin the matchmaking ceremonies with a prayer…” Your nerves bundle up in your stomach as the old woman begins reciting a prayer to the gods that you completely ignore. Couldn’t she just say all of the names and then pray? What did the gods care about the order of things?

It isn’t until you hear the soft murmurs of the women around you that you know it’s time to look up and resume your fretting about the pickings, which were sort of slim to begin with.

“Kashishime Okkostua… and Junte Yakamura.” The first couple of the ceremony had been announced, and you look at the brightened expression of a woman in the sea of female faces, who excitedly approaches her betrothed with arms open wide. The following twenty or so names were read off with similar results; only a few couples do not already know each other, and they approach each other with a timidness you could only describe as painful to watch.

“Yuko Hashinara and…” Oh, no, the time had already come. You look at the man who wrings his hands nervously, eyes glued to the matchmaker, while you hold your hands similarly, heart pounding beneath your dress wildly. The name of the woman falls from the matchmaker’s lips in slow motion, it seems, but it’s obviously not your name.

It’s not me.

It’s.

Not.

Me.

Your first thought is to go numb. As you eye the female who emerges from the crowd, your self-preservation instincts take over, analyzing the way she looks while you fix your fallen countenance. She is nothing amazing to look at, you reason, but as they acknowledge each other and depart from the crowd, your heart goes with them, never to return to the hole in your chest. Not even a trade from another other-worldly spirit could bring it back.

The rest of the day blows by you, and you don’t even hear a single syllable that sounds remotely like your name grace the tongue of the matchmaker. When she sets aside her papers, you and two other women are left standing in the square.

One of them started crying long ago, her face puffy and red. The other crosses her arms and takes a glance at you, shrugging her shoulders disinterestedly. But you… you’re feeling as numb as a rock. You stare at the sand lining the pathway, unsure of what to say or how to feel other than empty. The matchmaker hobbles down from her perch to where you three are standing and looks all of you over once. When she opens her mouth, all you can hear is:

“... maybe next year.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Next year. That’s the only thought that bounces around your skull as you make the embarrassing trek back to your residence. Next year.

But there wouldn’t be a next year.

The one you wanted was already gone, and--

Your eyes lift slowly to the door of your family’s home. Never in your lifetime had you experienced such a painful moment, but you wouldn’t let anyone see you defeated. Even after your mother opens the door and witnesses your shuffle back into the house, you announce to her and your father stoically: “The matchmaker said next year would be the year,” and walk into your bedroom with nothing else to declare.

The pillows on your bed muffle the sobs of your broken heartedness, and cover up the absolute humiliation you had suffered in front of the whole town. You wouldn’t speak of this day to anyone, not even your parents. Next year would be your year.

_______________________________________________________________________

Thunder rattles the windows of your house, and you stare at the various trees being stripped of their buds and flower petals in the pending storm though the panel in your bedroom. This is perfect weather for your mood, you note, and settle into the soft cushion beneath you with a sense of satisfaction. The world mirrors your inner turmoil with this storm, and you like the way the darkness swallows up the bright blue sky.

“Y/n…” A tap on your door signals the arrival of your mother, but you don’t answer, preferring to stare out of the window at the destruction instead. “I’m coming in.” The door is pushed open with ease, and your mother waddles in, holding a bowl of your favorite soup. “I made some soup for you.” You look at the offering with disinterest, eyes sliding away from the bowl and to the mirror across the room.

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” you croak. You can’t see your reflection, but you know you look like a wreck. You had snatched out the bobby pins and ribbons in your hair after you cried, then stripped the dress off in haste, throwing it into the corner before dressing in a plain kimono to remain decent. You’re still in that same kimono, even though it’s been almost a day since you’d changed.

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.” The keen observation doesn’t make your stomach growl. Instead, it’s like a stone is sitting in your gut, preventing you from even desiring food.

“I’ll be okay.” Your mother sits the soup down on your bedside table anyways, leaving you in peace just like she found you. A slight hiccup finds its way into your throat, and you want to cry, but you have no tears left at all. Your face is tight and raw, and you want to scrub at it to make it all go away… but you can’t. The matchmaker’s word is as good as a bond, and you can’t break that bond; not even if you tried.

The sound of the front door rattling initially sounds like some aftereffect of the lightning and thunder rolling across the sky, but you notice that the windows hadn’t shook. The pounding sound echoes again, and you find the strength to slide to the edge of your bed, feet dangling in the air precariously.

Your father would be there to get it, wouldn’t he? So why are you moving? Before you can question yourself further, you place your feet on the floor and pad to your bedroom door. Perhaps it was Yuko, and something had gone terribly wrong with his new wife. The thought makes you move even faster, your legs propelling you down the hallway and to the foyer, where your father stood with the door open to the rain. As you crane your head around the wall between the foyer and hallway, you see a figure bent over at the knees, catching their breath and mumbling erratically.

“Can I help you?” your father asks the person, who’s head snaps up, flinging his long, white hair back and showing his startling blue eyes. He’s dressed as an Imperial Warrior in a black and red kimono and hakama with a white sash around his waist, which signifies his rank, but you don’t know what rank white is.

“Sir, I have come a long way,” he begins, panting still. “The Imperial Court is in need of your youngest daughter. I have ord--” Your father scoffs, not even entertaining the man at his feet by listening to his speech.

“I’m sorry, but my youngest daughter is not a fighter,” he cuts the man off with his hand, but the man continues anyway.

“If you would please grant me entry into your home, I will be able to tell you the entire story. I am sure you will allow me this much upon seeing this.” Suddenly, the man reveals a water damaged envelope with the Imperial seal stamped upon it from his kimono. Your father looks at the document, but does not open it.

“Come inside, then. I’m sure you’re weary from your travels. I’ll have my wife prepare you some dinner.” As your father lets the man inside, your peer a little closer at the soldier and find his sapphire orbs boring right into your soul. A charming half smile pulls at his lips, but he turns away to follow your father into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the foyer and to wonder who exactly was in your home and why.

#geto x reader #jjk geto #jjk gojo #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen getou #jujutsu kaisen imagines #getou x reader #getou suguru

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Note

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling.

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

#tma #tma fanfic #jmart #timsasha #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #jonmartin #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #cw alcohol #new years eve #new years eve party

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

For the three word prompts..."all that's left" for the new rescues? I loved the dream piece! Beautifully written.

CW: Pet whump, dehumanizing/degrading language, ‘it’ used as pronoun against someone

“All that’s left to deal with,” The man in the suit, thin and made of sharp angles at every side, says in a voice growing hoarse with exhaustion, “is the pet.”

Alex turns to look at them, eyes narrowed, and Allyn straightens their spine in response, lifts their chin, and refuses, just this once, to look down.

They sit in the corner in a chair with a floral padded back and seat cushion - an inheritance of their Master’s, his grandmother’s first, so long go that Allyn can’t begin to conceive of such a passage of time. They are wearing the column of black they have worn, more or less, since their master’s death. It skims them while covering, flattering and demure. Their Master would think they were very beautiful, like this, with their hair pulled back with a simple clip at the nape of their neck, a small cap with a veil pinned in place to cover their face.

They have switched out the sparkling collar for everyday with a plain, wide-banded black ribbon, tied in a bow just to the side, a smaller leather collar buckled under it for the sense of safety they need to keep going.

“What about it?” Alex asks, raking a hand back through his hair. He is disheveled, eyes red-rimmed. He does not respect the Master’s need for elegance, not even after his death.

“Well, there is the matter of where they should go. Your father...” The man sighs, looking down at the sheaf of papers in his hand. “Your father did make some allowances, for an account to be opened and a monthly allotment paid out-”

“It’s not his fucking spouse, Johnson-”

“Mr. Johnson,” The man says, his tiredness even more evidence in how quickly he is annoyed by the rudeness. Allyn’s lips press together in a thin line. They would never be so rude. “I am your father’s friend and I am his lawyer, Alexander, I am not so close to you as to not demand basic respect.”

Allyn’s jaw tightens and their hands twist into the black of their skirt, but they don’t go to their knees. Master worked hard on them to fight the instinct, the training, and they don’t have to drop for Respect anymore.

But still, their spine and knees tingle with the certainty that they should.

“Fine, yeah. Mr. Johnson. You can’t be telling me Dad’s fucking slut is going to get his money? You can’t be serious.”

“The pet,” Mr. Johnson says, with a slight emphasis, “will not. But it will pay for them to receive a care worker to stay in the house, and ensure they are cared for for the rest of their existence. Allyn was clearly very loved by your father-”

Allyn’s heart breaks for his loss all over again, and they remember kneeling beside him as blood stained his shirt, screaming for help, and how tightly he clung to them until it was over and then he did not cling at all-

They breath in carefully, deeply, fighting back the hot rush of tears, the pit of grief. Their sadness cannot bring him back. Grief has not kept them safe. They are so lucky, that they were ever given his love.

The lawyer is still talking.

“There is precedent for this, Alexander. You’ll recall the steel industry’s Adrian Argyros’s pet has been kept in relative comfort since his death-”

“Jesus Christ,” Alex says, sitting back with a sudden slump. “There’s no way to fight this in court?”

“You could make that choice,” Mr. Johnson says carefully. “But laws are in place protecting pets under these circumstances. Part of the reason legality exists in the industry is because what protections pets do have are ironclad, posthumous care being one of them. You would likely lose, and could lose your own financial inheritance in court costs, or potentially be ordered to pay out to the pet. I understand your frustration, but-”

“This is fucking sick,” Alex snaps. “That I have to treat that fucking whore like a widow. It’s younger than me!”

“It is not uncommon for a man’s widow to be younger than his children, with such a pronounced age gap.”

“That thing is not his widow. It isn’t anything but a-” Alex trails off, takes a deep breath. He looks over at Allyn, really looks at them, and Allyn’s heart goes cold with a terror they can’t define.

They lift their chin, tilting the veil that covers their face just slightly. Their blue eyes meet his own stormier ones. They tell themself not to cry, not where he can see.

Then Alex sits back again, looks away. “Yeah, I get it. I get it.” He taps his fingers on their Master’s beautifully wrought enormous wooden desk. “I’ll handle the pet. I’ll... I’ll handle it.”

Somehow, his tone is not reassuring, and the pit of chilled dread inside them remains.

---

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @astrobly @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @outofangband

#pet whump #allyn bb #whump #bbu #box boy universe #grief tw #death tw #dehumanizing language #dehumanization tw #degrading language #it as pronoun

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Text

Part 2! Here is Part 1 f you have yet to read it! I hope you enjoy my little Walmart brand of summer wars as much as I am writing it! Let me know what you think!

×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×

The two of you leave with a small bow before your grandmother answers the phone.

The second you are out of the room Bakugou grabs you roughly by the wrist, pulling you down into the small dimly lit hallway to press you against the dark wooden wall, caging you in much like he did on the train.

But this time with malintent. Small pops ring out from his forearms, one hand threatening to char the wood beside your head while the other grips your wrist harder.

You could understand his anger, it's not as if you had been truthful to Bakugou. He detests liars and although you didn't necessarily lie to him you still told him a half truth. He was still figuring out which was worse.

"Fucking fiance?!" He snarls close to your face, "Deal's off."

You had planned to allow him to bitch and moan about the shitty situation you put him in without argument.

But his refusal to act semi decent towards you for the sake of your grandmother's old heart had rage burning hot in your veins.

It wasn't like you were asking him to fuck you. With a tick in your jaw you drop your precious Kimono. Grabbing onto his chin with your free hand, tilting his face closer to yours to have a better look at those stunning crimson eyes. They widen from both the force of your grip and the proximity of your lips. He swallows thickly, his glare slowly coming back.

"Listen here Bakugou Katsuki. I'm asking you to pretend to be my fiance for two weeks. I'm asking for small shit like sitting close to me, maybe giving a small smile in my direction and at the most hand holding. I'm not asking you to fucking marry me or fuck me in front of my family. My grandmother is a bit old fashioned if you couldn't tell by the house or her demeanor, she has been hounding me about bringing a man to her for approval since I was 16. She wanted to make sure I had a man that deserved me, that I would be taken care of. So I've made up boyfriend after boyfriend since I've never really had time for more than a good fuck but my Uncle called me last winter to tell me her health was beginning to decline and rapidly at that. I called her immediately and told her I had just become engaged and she'd meet him on her birthday. So you've got two choices Katsuki." You let every syllable of his name soak in sugar coated venom, "Suck it up for two fucking weeks and be semi decent to me or break my grandmother's heart and earn a dangerous enemy."

Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest the entire time you were ranting, unsure of why he was attracted to the hard set of your eyes and the ice in your voice. His stomach flips when you say his first name causing him to grind his teeth. He breaks away from your grip with his free hand, quickly pinning your arms above your head. Locking your delicate yet deadly wrists in one of his broad hands while the other presses against your hip bone. Thumb sliding through the loop of your too short shorts, bringing your pelvis to his. The denim was barely able to contain your ass and thick thighs, he is surprised none of your elders have scolded you for such indecency if they were as old fashioned as you say.

The faint blush on your cheeks and the defiant look in your eyes has his voice turn husky as he speaks.

"I should make you regret bringing me here. Maybe have you begging for something else." His lips a breath away as he presses his forehead to yours. Eyes molten with what you think is lust before he tilts his face. Amplifying the sudden magnetism between your plump lips and his own. Your chest tightens with mixed emotions as your eyes begin to flutter closed.

Suddenly he changes direction and gives you a harsh headbutt, hard enough your vision blurs at the edges causing you to growl in response.

"This better not fucking bruise."

He rolls his eyes, dropping your hands as he reaches down for the old Kimino. His heart racing from almost losing control of these odd feelings.

Feelings that had never been aimed towards you until your grandmother stirred them up.

"Would you die for my granddaughter?"

The question drives him mad, mad enough that he places the kimono in your hands speaking the dark thought that he should have fucking kept to himself.

"Did you actually drag me along for your grandmother's sake or did you just want the kimono, Princess?" His voice is all bite, holding your gaze, your eyes widening.

"Don't call me that." Your voice threatens to crack but he walks away before he can see the rest of your reaction to wander the house for his room until dinner.

You're left standing there, eyes glued to the fabric, the deep navy blue and hand stitched cranes and lotus blur in your hands. Before fat droplets fall from your eyes.

Why did you ever think Bakugou Katsuki would be a good partner, fake or not.

You collect yourself quickly, angrily swiping at your eyes before you set to find your normal room.

It doesn't take you long and you're honestly hoping Bakugou stays lost until dinner. His room should be on the opposite wing of the house. Opening the old tatami door to find Mei setting down your stuff and Bakugou's bag. Mei follows your eyes to the well worn backpack with a skull pin on the strap. She knew exactly who it belonged to when she picked it up, having spotted the handsome devil from the hall.

"Mei what's this you know he's supposed to be in the western wing!" You exclaim, trudging past her to hang your kimono on the old rack in the corner of the room. Mei scoffs, eyes glued to her phone as she speaks.

"He was bound to sneak this way anyway. I'm doing you a favor." She rolls her eyes as if she knows everything at the ripe age of sixteen.

You thought you knew everything then too. You sigh, rolling your own eyes.

"What you call a favor I call a headache. Just take his bag to his room." You pass the straps to her, hating that it smells so much like him. Your stomach flips even as you look at the two person futon.

"Just sleep with him tonight no one will know! Plus I hadn't cleaned his room. It's full of spider webs, the floor needs patching and his futon is gonna be dusty." She counters.

"B..but one futon is not modest."

"Wow please tell me you're not a virgin jushi. You're gonna get married anyway! I know I wouldn't have said no to a catch like that either!"

Mei makes her way out of your room while you pinch the bridge or your nose.

"Yea…. Why would I ever say no to such a great catch?" You fall backwards onto the futon hoping that that asshole was still lost for now.

Someone would find him wandering and take him to the great dining room.

×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×

Thankfully someone does end up showing Bakugou to the dining room but of course it would be Mei who also tells him where the SHARED room is. You bite your lip and choose to play dumb.

"Oh good you found your way, babe." You smile sinking next to him on one of the many blue cushions. He grunts in response but pulls your cushion closer to his. Carefully pouring you some water before he yanks down your tank top that was riding up and trying to expose your midriff. His fingers feel like fire as they brush against your skin, igniting a dying ember in your stomach.

You quickly remind yourself of his nasty comment, as you're about to set him straight your cousin Haru walks into the room. He sucks his teeth and sits further down the table across from his sister Mei as people slowly come in to sit or bring in food.

"I don't know why you bothered to bring him here. Sobo is never going to approve of him." He cracks open his beer and drinks prematurely earning an eye roll from his sister. Bakugou and yourself both open your mouth to retort when Mei pipes up. Eyes still glued to her phone as her thumbs fly across the illuminated glass.

"She already did stupid. She gave her the crane Kimono so get used to seeing his face." Mei rolls her eyes as your cheeks blush.

Bakugou regrets his comment now more than ever but sucks his own teeth. An older gentleman sits to Bakugou's left commenting on the conversation as he does.

"Wow the crane kimono! You know she's been holding onto that for quite some time. You must be very special. I'm Sozen, your lovely fiance's Uncle." He smiles, just as you're about pinch the blonde to make sure he answers he gives a small bow of his head.

"Bakugou Katsuki." He introduces himself as aunt Mai rushes into the room.

"Wait, wait! I want to meet him!" She sinks next to your right, all smiles as her eyes are fixated on the young man, "Wow he is as handsome as you said on the phone last night."

Fresh blush creeps onto your cheeks, remembering the phone conversation from when you were too nervous to sleep last night. Bakugou catches on and smirks in response. Everyone but Sobo takes their seats and you decide now is a good time as ever to get the formalities over with.

"Let's just get through the introductions shall we?" You say as you run through the names of each family member on both sides of the three low tables shoved together. Introducing the hot head to well over 12 adults and their children and even children's children. For now Bakugou only makes an effort to remember the ones closest to him.

Uncle Sozen who sits to his left and Aunt Mai who sits to your right. It's becoming quickly apparent that a lot of your family is either much older or much younger than yourself. He can understand why you could feel a little lonely at times. Being more of a black sheep than anything. Then he realises something very important.

"Wait, where are your parents?" He asks lowly to which you shrug.

"They show up closer to grandma's birthday. They are both extremely busy and always have been. Soba more or less raised me."

As if one cue grandmother comes in, looking over the table with the biggest and warmest smile she can muster. It reminds him of the summer sun lazily dancing across his skin in the late afternoon.

And again it reminds him of you. He looks to you and sees you mirroring the exact same smile, happy for your grandmother's happiness causing his chest to tighten and butterflies to awaken in his stomach. He grinds his teeth in an attempt to calm them down.

She sits at the head of the table, closest to Great Oba who he had the pleasure of meeting first thing, before grandmother holds up her small cup of sake.

"To family." She announces, everyone lifts what cup they have, whether it was a kids small sippy cup, their o-choko, or even their cup of tea.

"To family!" They roar back to her all taking a sip.

"Let's eat." She says while the family cries out, "Itadakimasu!"

The tables are loud and full of conversation. Although Katuski's family is not so big, the volume reminds him of his own family. A small smirk comes to his lips as he thinks of his mother and how she would fit in here.

"So no Shoji?" Haru asks with a sneer, almost purposefully stirring the pot.

"No surprise there." Someone else comments.

"Shut. Up. Haru." You bite out, look fierce as if you were to devour him whole. He swallows thickly.

"Great uncle Kodaka tell us about that battle we won here!" You change the subject and everyone groans as Kodaka starts the story they've heard thousands of times before.

"It was almost 150 years ago, when we were still a prosperous nation. Us samarai doing fine on our own. Hired by the wealthy or living by our own moral compass. It was like fish in a barrel…"

The story continues on, mostly the children listen and your grandmother who smiles as she hears her youngest speak.

Sozen leans closer to Bakugou, as grey eyes hold onto scarlet. Bakugou remains quiet, glancing to you and then back to the uncle. Uncle Sozen takes this as an invitation to speak.

"I guess since you're gonna be part of the family now I should tell you about Shoji. There was a time shortly before Grandpa died that he went down a dark path, gambling away majority of the family fortune and just when grams thought she had him under control then came Shoji.He was Grandpa's illegitimate child with a woman much younger than Sobo. But she loved Shoji fiercely anyway. She would take him through the field of wildflowers to the lake in the early mornings of summer. One hot day when he was small and the sun was rising, painting the sky in hues of red there was a crane. Our family's crest." Uncle Sozen points to the wooden crest above the door to the adjacent room that held the family's artifacts. A crane stands tall with a white lotus behind it in full bloom.

"It was the first time in decades that a crane had come to the lake and the lotus were in full bloom. He flew away, causing a gentle ripple in the lake and it was then Sobo knew that Shoji would bring fortune to our family." Sozen peeks your way to make sure you're not over hearing, he continues explaining softly as your loud laugh bellows out, "Everyone is so angry with him because he took the last of grandmother's savings and then ran away to America with no way to be contacted."

"She is quick to defend him because she was too young to really remember how much it upset Sobo. That and she believed in him wholeheartedly. She looked up to him because despite his quirklessness he was exceptionally intelligent. She had faith that he would restore honor and fortune to our name." Sozen's chopsticks point to you as he speaks before he picks up a dumpling. Bakugou's eyes follow over you.

"Hello Sobo." A deep voice calls from the engawa reducing the lively roar of dinner conversation to nothing more than the sad song of a lonely cricket.

"Uncle Shoji?!" You call excited, standing from your spot at the long table while the rest of the room holds animosity.

Bakugou downs his sake to which Uncle Sozen silently refills.

"I thought you were still abroad in the states!" You sink next to him and pull him into a crushing hug. He smiles, slowly separating the two of you.

"What the hell do you want trash?!" Uncle Kodaka snarls, to which you produce a deadly glare his way.

"Well yes I was in the states, thank you for asking Princess." He tucks a stay hair behind your ear before rising to speak with grandmother.

He does not address her properly nor does he bow. If anything he stands loosely with an arrogance about him that leaves majority of the room with a sour taste in their mouth. Bakugou watches Great Oba's chopsticks strain in her delicate hand, the distaste for him is becoming more and more obvious by the second.

And then he opens his mouth.

"I made tenfold out of what you let me borrow, Soba." He pulls a stack of money and a check from his pocket as he speaks, "I made a drug to make people powerless and sold it to the highest bidder."

Eyes around the room widen as news headlines flash in their heads about a new drug that made people quirkless. Villains shooting innocent bystanders and heroes in hopes of getting a leg up.

Shoji tosses the money and the check onto grandmother's lap. Dark brown eyes stare into her lap for a long moment.

Suddenly grandmother moves like an agile cat, jumping to her feet and grabbing for one of the divine naginata. She wields it masterfully before shoving the point towards him, fire burning in her eyes.

"Mother!" Half the table shouts, as you begin to see red. You stand stepping next to Shoji, body shaking with rage as your heart drums in your ears.

"I knew my Princess would save me." He says coyly to hide just how shaken he is, sweat dripping down his brow. Even ten years your senior he couldn't hide his fear of the fierce woman before him, shocked that a woman in her nineties could still brandish such a big and heavy weapon.

Your hands land harshly on Shoji's chest as you give him a shove. Shocking the table into further silence.

"YOU MADE THAT?!" Your voice echoes over the dining room, into the empty halls and out into the night but somehow the hurt in it does not reach Shoji.

"Of course, it was going to be a hot seller. Governments offered me billions. Besides I made an anti...." But before he can finish you've got him by the collar.

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO INTELLIGENT YET SO DAFT?!" Bakugou watches your knuckles turn white while your cheeks flush deep red. Shoji barely frees himself, his shirt crumpled but you press on.

"Those were my friends!" A stomp of your foot has the dishes rattling on the table, Bakugou becomes more on edge, "You hurt my fucking friends!"

You raise both of your fists above your head, ready to bring them down with all of your might. Too angry to control your gauge of power uncaring of the consequences. Katuski acts quickly, flicking his wrist to empty the shallow cup of sake high into the air. Igniting it into beautiful dancing fireworks, the kids oo and ah while he hopes to distract you if only for a moment.

It works, slightly. You realize his plan as he jumps to his feet, running along the low tables as you try to beat him to the punch.

Literally.

Bakugou barely makes it, shoving Shoji into the table, food and dishes fly into the air just to stain the freshly mopped wooden floors. The hot head holds out his other arm to take the brunt of your force. He let's off the smallest explosion to soften your blow but a small crack still rings out.

Heated eyes watch as a black bruise blooms from the crease of his elbow to all the way to his wrist as the shock shakes the house behind him. Paintings and pictures fall from the walls in the wake of your force.

"Are you trying to bring down the house dumbass?!" He yells before his voice dips low, soft almost, "What if the roof had caved and Soba-san got hurt?"

Your eyes widen at his words before they are locked with glistening scarlet pools. You look over Bakugou's toned arm, marred in angry shades of purplish black. Eyes darting over the family and the mess that lies beside you. Finally they fall on your grandmother behind your shoulder. Her own aged shoulders heave from the adrenaline, her graying white hair out of place with her lotus pin threatening to fall out. You spy Shoji, your once hero still squishing food beneath his torso and elbows, eyes filled with fear.

"Fuck this." You mutter storming off, leaving Bakugou to stand alone before your family. Shoji stands, rushing out of the house, moments later everyone can hear a car peeling down the gravel drive losing traction once or twice.

After a few moments of silence grandmother fixes her hair and returns the naginata as she speaks.

"This family cleans up their own messes. Now get to work!"

And with that your family and Bakugou begin to pick up the shattered pieces of dishes, pride and family matters.

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anxious-logic · 3 years

Text

Day 7: Free Day

(this is late- whoops...)

(Find more chapters and Ao3 link in my pinned post!)

@analogicalweek

Day 7: Free day

Ship: Romantic Analogical (Logan/Virgil)

Chapter Warnings: None

Ao3 Rating: G

Word Count: 1,398

Summary: "You're going to make me cry. It's just... you're getting married."

Logan nervously adjusted xir skirt, looking xirself up and down in the mirror. Xir hair was styled back with gel and bobby pins, xir face highlighted with a bit of natural makeup. Xe was wearing a white outfit that was a combination of a dress and a jumpsuit, with mesh and lace three-quarter sleeves and a skirt attached to the side and back of the hips on the top like a dress, revealing long pants underneath. A beaded belt accented xir waist at the front.

Xe would be married to Virgil in less than thirty minutes.

Xe couldn’t help rocking back and forth on xir feet just a bit at the thought. Xe couldn’t believe it; the two of them had been planning the wedding for more than a year, choosing everything to be just as perfect as they’d both imagined it would be. And now… now it was really happening.

Xe looked up at a knock on the door. “Come in,” xe called out.

The door opened to reveal Patton, xir best man. Patton’s eyes went wide and glassy at the sight of Logan.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Thank you,” Logan said, feeling xir cheeks go slightly red as xe glanced at xirself in the mirror again.

“Virgil’s not going to be able to think,” Patton continued as he stepped closer to Logan, pulling a small, flat cardboard box out of the pocket of his suit. He held the box out to Logan.

Xe took the box, curiously pulling off the lid to find a sapphire necklace laying on the cotton inside.

“I- this is gorgeous,” xe said, tilting the box back and forth slightly to watch the stone sparkle in the light. “You didn’t have to.”

Patton gave xem a smile. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, right? Well… you already have the old and borrowed.” He nodded at the white flats that Logan was wearing that xe had borrowed from xir grandmother’s wedding outfit. “So now, something new, something blue.”

Logan carefully put the box down on the nearest surface, then held xir arms out to Patton. His best friend carefully put his arms around xir shoulders, hugging xem tightly.

“You’re going to make me cry,” Patton said, and Logan could hear how tight his voice was.

“That’s my job,” Logan said, pulling back. Patton swallowed and nodded.

“I know,” he said. “It’s just… you’re getting married.”

Logan shook xir head slowly. “I know. It still doesn’t feel real.”

“It will soon enough.”

Logan gave a quiet laugh, then shook xemself slightly. “Anyway- will you put the necklace on me?” Xe picked up the necklace from where it was sitting on the table, carefully taking it out of the cushioning and unhooking it, passing it back to Patton. Xe felt the weight of it settle at the hollow of xir throat as Patton latched it, and xe brought a hand up to touch it.

“Okay,” Patton said, touching Logan’s shoulder to turn xem around and looking xem up and down one last time. “Let’s go.”

Logan gave him a smile. “Let’s go.”

***

Logan sucked in a breath as xe saw Virgil at the end of the aisle. They were wearing a violet blazer buttoned in the middle over a tulle-skirted A-line dress, emphasizing their waist and making them look ethereal.

“Hi,” xe whispered as xe got to the front of the aisle. Virgil gave xem a smile.

“You look stunning,” they murmured under their breath. Logan felt xir face warm with a blush, and quickly turned back to Roman, their officiant and closest joint friend.

Most of the wedding went by in a daze. Xe vaguely heard the things Roman was saying about love and trust and understanding, but most of xir attention was taken up by staring at Virgil: their eyes, emphasized by mascara and a touch of eyeliner, their lips covered in a shimmery lipstick just a few shades darker than their lips.

Logan was startled out of xir reverie when xe realized Roman had gone silent, and was looking at xem expectantly. Xe cleared xir throat in embarrassment, quickly turning around to Patton and holding xir hand out. Patton handed him xir notes for xir vows. Xe took a deep breath, doing xir best not to show how emotional xe was feeling, before looking up at Virgil.

“Virgil,” xe began. “The first time I saw you, it wasn’t the magical moment that so many novels speak of. There were no fireworks, there wasn’t an instant connection. But that only made our relationship all the more special in my mind. We got to know each other over the course of weeks, months. It was almost a year of knowing each other before I invited you on a romantic outing with me.”

Xe took a breath, xir eyes tearing up just a bit. Xe quickly blinked the tears away, bringing one hand up to wipe them without ruining xir makeup.

“But that time only made it all the more precious when we did eventually begin a romantic relationship. It allowed me to know the ins and outs of you and your lovely, wonderful mind. I have fallen more in love with you every day since I recognized the feeling, as impossible as that may be.”

Xe took a deep breath, glancing at xir notes before looking up to make direct eye contact with Virgil, seeing their eyes go shiny as xe spoke.

“I promise to always be an ear when you need comfort and a rock when you need stability. I will be a light when the world seems dark and endless. I will be a support when you are weak, and a raft when life is a storming sea. I will be a weight when you are flying too high and must be brought back to earth, and the wind beneath your wings when you need to be lifted up.

“Virgil, I love you. And I promise to continue loving you until the end of our lives.”

Tears were spilling out of Virgil’s eyes, and they were sniffling in an attempt to keep their composure.

“Oh my god,” they said, the phrase punched out of them on a sob. The guests in the chairs snickered, and Virgil quickly wiped their eyes and nose.

“So I don’t know how I’m expected to follow that up, but I’m going to try,” they said, pulling a few index cards out of a hidden pocket in their blazer.

“Logan,” they began. “The first time we met, I will fully admit I thought you were the most gorgeous human I had ever laid eyes on. Now, that’s a little different – I know you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I also know that you are the smartest person I’ve met, and the funniest, and just- the loveliest human in the world.”

Virgil took a shaky breath.

“That being said- you’re also really freaking annoying sometimes.”

Another chuckle came from the guests, this time a little louder.

“But I promise that I won’t leave when it gets hard. I promise that I won’t give up before we finish talking it out. I’ll never stop trying when you need me more than ever. I’ll love you until the end of time. I’ll be your best friend. Your rock. Your always. Logan, I love you, and I’ll never leave you.”

Logan was fully crying now, droplets of tears dripping off of xir jaw and onto xir dress.

“You may now exchange rings.”

Logan turned to where one of Virgil’s younger cousins was holding the rings on a pillow. Xe picked up Virgil’s ring, gently holding Virgil’s left hand and slipping it onto the ring finger, repeating the words after the officiant. Virgil did the same to xem, laughing just a little when it stuck on one of xir knuckles.

“I now pronounce you married. You may seal this with a kiss.”

Logan stepped toward Virgil, bringing xir hands up to cup their face. They laced their hands behind xir neck, a huge smile coming across their face.

“We’re married,” Logan heard Virgil whisper just before their lips touched, gentle but full of emotion nonetheless.

Xe pulled back slightly to rest xir forehead against Virgil’s.

“I win,” one of them said, and neither knew who said it, but it didn’t matter.

***

inspiration for Logan's outfit here

#ts logan #ts virgil #analogical #romantic analogical #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders #virgil sanders #i can write sometimes #background roman sanders #background patton sanders

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kataang-dungeon · 3 years

Text

Cold Snap

Aang and Katara visit the Southern Water Tribe before they are married, and a blizzard forces them to stay indoors.

Rated: M

Word count: 1222

Read here on ao3.

ooo

"There's a blizzard coming," says Katara's father, Hakoda, with a wink. "It might be best to stay inside the whole day, right?"

She watches Sokka as he stands next to the door, a look of disgust on his face. "Ugh," he grimaces, "I'm getting out of here." He raises a hand and waves. Hakoda soon follows with a knowing smirk on his face.

The door slides shut and suddenly she and Aang are alone in their temporary home. Katara turns, seeing Aang fidget with his hands as he stands just behind her near the sitting area. He has a puzzled and questioning expression on his face.

"Are you sure it's okay for us to stay in your grandmother's and Pakku's home for six months?" he asks. He clears his throat. "And um...why was your dad being so weird?"

She sees the look he gives her, one that borders on utter confusion, and she giggles. "It's fine," Katara replies. "They already agreed to it. They're staying with dad. Anyway, we're getting married."

They are going to be married in a year and she is over the moon. It is the reason why they are spending time in the Southern Water Tribe. It is to complete an important part of the marriage customs of her tribe. Usually, it would mean an entire year of Aang being part of her traditional household and helping with things like hunting...which neither her father nor Sokka would make him do. Instead, because she and Aang are important figures in both Republic City and the world (and because Aang is the Avatar), they decided to cut the normal time in half. That, and Aang does not hunt. He has been spending his time gathering roots and berries, mending items around the village, and weaving.

She loves him all the more for it.

Still, she has not answered Aang fully. She smiles innocently as she walks closer to him, presses her palm to his chest, and feels his thundering heartbeat beneath the cloth of his thick orange and yellow woolen robes. Her grandmother had dyed them herself. She had even gone so far to replace all the skins that once decorated her home with Pakku with only woven rugs from fur shed from tundra animals in the spring.

Katara walks until she has Aang pinned against the wall in the sitting room. His neck turns red when she tangles her fingers into his collar. He towers over her by a head, and she is exhilarated when she realizes the kind of power she has over him.

"There's a blizzard coming," she murmurs hot across his exposed skin. She lets her digits caress the underside of his stubbled jawline.

He shudders. "W—what are you doing?"

She is shy for a moment, glancing up toward him to meet his eyes. "Is this okay?" she starts. "I... I want—"

He softens for her and then his gaze is fire. "But should we? Are we allowed? We've never..."

She knows Aang is right. They have explored before, but never anything that went too far. They have never seen each other totally nude. But they are in their twenties, old by Water Tribe standards to only start thinking of marriage. They waited because the world needed them.

She feels the passion building between them. The world doesn't need them now.

"There's a blizzard coming," she repeats. This time, pulling down the sash across his chest with a fervor she did not know she possesses. "We're living together now." She licks her lips and Aang sighs with longing. "In my culture, this is the right time."

They are halfway toward the cushions around the hearth in the sitting area when he stumbles onto them. They laugh as they crash together in a snarl of limbs. His top robes are almost all off. She meets him with an open-mouthed kiss to his collarbone. His hands are tugging in the strands of her braid, and he is loosening it.

It is she that starts. She removes her parka and shivers against him, the silky pillows tossing beneath them.

"Are you cold?" he teases, and his bare arms are around her now. He is on his back and she has her arms on either side of him, looking down at him.

His chest is exposed, and she stares. He has a free hand on the side of her breast, still bound in her wrappings. She realizes that he has never seen her without her undergarments either.

"Freezing," she says as she bites her lower lip. She gives him the most inviting look she can conjure. "I could be warmer."

He smiles. "You know what they say," he chuckles, "when there's a blizzard out you should share body heat to keep warm."

He peels off her chest wrappings with her coaxing. Gently and steadily, and Katara loves the way her belly burns with need for him.

For a moment she covers her chest with her arms, but he frees her from them and brings his mouth to each breast, whispering against her, telling her she is his everything and that she is keeping him warm. Her bashfulness recedes and all she wants is to make him feel the same way he makes her feel.

She dips lower and lower on him, moving her head to his waistband as he finishes his work, and latches on to the fabric with her teeth. He moans when she moves her body downward, using her hands to help her remove whatever is left. He arches his back to help her.

She looks at him once more and is breathing heavily now. Even through whatever haze he is in, he still manages to tell her she is beautiful.

He is blushing and she laughs. "You're perfect," she says.

Her hands are on his length and she shudders at the way he grinds against her touch. He says her name in a way he never has before.

They are next to the fire of the hearth now, and its crackling fades into the background. The only thing left between them is her underwear.

He takes her slowly and with a touch that sends the whole room spinning. She does not notice the way that the snow pounds against the rooftop, nor the way she shouts his name from the back of her throat to the end of her tongue.

Her body is a furnace, and she wants more of him to keep the heat going. He moves his hands along her breasts, pinching on skin she did not know was as sensitive as she feels.

Then she moves too, pleasing him as she can, and the burning that engulfs her rises from her thighs to her core and she begs.

At last, for the first time he is inside of her. They are on the floor of her grandparents' sitting room. There are cushions and teacups strewn about. A storm rages outside. But she only cares about the way he feels.

They are warm against each other, and all she can think as he releases is that the blizzard is here.

“How warm are you now?” he says quietly next to her ear. He has her in his arms.

She smiles. “You’re keeping me warm,” she responds, and their lips meet another time.

#fornication scrolls #mod mooning

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myluciferiscody · 4 years

Text

i loved you first p.4

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 2,332

warnings: violence, language, fluff, oops

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | epilogue

Your life seemed to flash before your eyes.

Chloe Smith was in tears; her red hair matted while her makeup from the night before smeared under her eyes. You had never seen her look like this. She was always fabulous. You'd admit it now, even knowing she was crazy.

"Chloe..." Xavier said softly, his hands slowly rising as she continued to cry with her eyes on you. Your eyes fell to the gun hanging by her side, her finger fiddling with the gun. She was going to cock it eventually.

"Sit down!" she shot at you, and you didn't hesitate to take the spot next to Xavier. You realized you should have stayed away from him, but Chloe didn't comment, only raising the gun at the both of you.

"You don't have to do this," Xavier said, his voice hesitant. You knew he was trying not to cry, and you were right there with him. "This isn't worth it."

"You're worth it!" she yelled, pointing her gun directly at him now. "You're worth it, Xavier." she cried, her voice wobbly. You had never heard anything like this in your life. This all had to be a really fucked up dream.

You knew it was probably best to keep your mouth shut. Chloe hated you; you didn't want to push her any farther and risk putting Xavier in any more danger than he already was.

Your thoughts were overshadowed when Chloe turned her attention back to you, her voice venomous when she asked, "What do you have that I don't?"

I'm not psychotic, clearly.

You instinctively snickered at that, which was a huge mistake. You watched as Chloe's eyes went dark before moving the gun just inches from your face and fired.

You and Xavier both yelled; he grabbed you and pulled you down as the bullet whizzed right by, almost hitting your ear. Your heart was now in overdrive as Xavier took this opportunity to rush forward and tackle her to the ground. You screamed as they wrestled, desperately looking for a phone to dial 9-1-1.

You hoped that a neighbor would call the police. You weren't particularly close with them, but you were friendly enough to keep an eye on one another. You started to cry when you realized your phone was dead, and you didn't know where Xavier's was.

There was no way you could sit back and watch this unfold. Chloe was screaming, cursing your name as Xavier wrestled the gun away from her. You looked around for something heavy, figuring this could be your Paul Sheldon moment.

You spotted an ugly vase that Xavier's mother had gifted you when you moved in together. It always sat underneath the accent table, collecting dust. You snatched it, looking to see that Xavier was somewhat able to pin down Chloe. But the struggle for the gun was still ensuing. Your ears rang as another shot went off, striking the lamp your grandmother bought you.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt him accidentally. You lunged for the pair, catching Xavier's eye last minute as he fell off her, falling to the ground. You smashed the vase against Chloe's head. A cry escaped your lips when a jagged piece broke the skin of your palm. Chloe shrieked, before falling unconscious.

You gasped, falling to your knees as Xavier wheezed on the ground. You glanced down at the now bloody head of Chloe, who was still breathing.

"That fucking bitch!" Xavier snapped, sitting up. You watched as he grabbed the gun, switching on the safety. "We need to call the police."

"I-I couldn't find your phone," you said shakily, stumbling to your feet, your eyes still on her unconscious body.

Xavier had to dig underneath the cushions, but he found it. There was just enough battery to report the incident, and he stayed on the line as you both moved far away from her, almost sitting on top of each other in the corner.

Your chest felt like it was on fire. The tears wouldn't stop as you hung onto Xavier, who gently shushed you while he spoke to the operator. You wanted Montana, you wanted Brooke.

You were so shaken up that the panicked knocking on the door caused you to shriek. The operator on the phone was worried, as Xavier got up to investigate, before letting out a "fuck!"

"XAVIER! Y/N! IT'S ME, IT'S CHET AND MONTANA! OPEN UP!"

Xavier wrenched open the door, explaining to the operator that you were still waiting on the police.

"We already called the police, they're not here yet!?" Montana yelled, rushing past the boys to where you were cowering in the corner. "Chet was outside when he saw Chloe arrive and called them."

She brought you into a hug as you hid your face in her neck, wishing for all of this to stop. You heard Xavier ask why Chet was outside, in which he replied, "Because I'm not dumb, I knew the bitch would be back."

You always adored that Chet was so protective of your friends. You had to smile, feeling your heart lift slightly as Montana held you tightly, shielding your face from Chloe.

It seemed like an eternity when the police and ambulance finally arrived. Ray ended up showing up sometime later while you were outside, claiming that Brooke was stuck at work and wished she could be here.

You watched with your friends as Chloe was wheeled out on a stretcher; her hands cuffed as they loaded her into the ambulance. Your debacle caused some attention, as concerned neighbors and strangers gathered around. You slowly started to feel better, but the fear of almost being killed kept creeping on you. The paramedics cleaned up your wound and bandaged it.

Because your apartment was now an active crime scene, you and Xavier were forced to room with Montana and Brooke at their residence. You had gathered your things before riding over with Xavier in the back seat; his grip on you was still tight.

You were pleased when Ray and Chet came over later that night with packed bags. They insisted on the group being together for support. You had hugged your friends more in the past few hours than you have all year. You knew they were as equally scared as you were, while simultaneously trying to ease your stress.

That night after everyone settled into bed, you were restless. It was well past three in the morning, your boss already notified about what transpired and you needed some time off. Xavier was in the bathroom, almost begging his boss to give him some time, too.

You waited until he finally came out, visibly lighter as he crawled down next to you, peeking to see if you were awake. The unexpected action caused you to snort, and he smiled at your laugh.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he whispered, settling down beside you. "My boss finally cut me some slack for once in his life."

"I think you should just quit, they don't deserve you," you whispered.

"Trust me, I've been telling myself that the day I started," he joked, and you felt hopeful that things could be normal again. "y/n, I just wanted to let you know that you saved our lives today."

You frowned, shaking your head, "You had her pinned to the ground. If anything, you're the hero."

Xavier shook his head, scoffing, "Don't be ridiculous, you knocked the crack-whore out."

You cackled at that, hiding your face in the blankets as Xavier's blue eyes widened, playfully shushing you as Ray snorted in his sleep a few feet away. "Keep it down!"

"Then don't make me laugh!" you seethed, yet your tone was playful. "You should know by now that you make me laugh without trying."

Xavier beamed at that, settling down to lay beside you. He was delighted to hear that, now smiling like an idiot at your compliment. You moved closer, putting your head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you.

"I don't mean to make light of the situation," Xavier said softly, starting to run his hands through your hair. You closed your eyes in peace. "But I'm glad we were with each other today. I could never live with myself if something happened to you because of me."

"I need you to stop blaming yourself," you scolded. Xavier's face flushed, and he was staring at the ceiling with a hurt expression you couldn't see. "I told this to the others, and I'll say it to you. You didn't know. Montana..." you smiled, "She has a suspicious nature, and she's right ninety percent of the time. Montana had an equal hand in this."

"I should have known, though," Xavier said, frowning. "I was her boyfriend. I was going to move in with her!"

You smirked, "They say you don't really know a person until you live with them. Or something like that."

Xavier finally smiled at you, "Something like that?"

"Yes. That's what my mom said when I told her we were living together."

"Huh," Xavier said, his hands still running through your hair. "Your mom is a wise woman."

"Of course she is, why do you think I'm the way I am, hmm?" you joked.

"I guess that would explain a lot," he said softly. You laid there, your head still on his chest as you listened to the sound of his beating heart.

In mere seconds he could have been taken away from you.

You didn't realize your nails dug into his chest until he winced, "Ouch, y/n?"

You gasped, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Xavier." you said, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hurt him.

"It's alright," he said, before placing his hand over yours. "I'll be here when you wake-up."

You tried to fall asleep then, but images of Chloe holding a gun in your face was a plague. Xavier was still awake, staring at the ceiling as he stroked your hair. He could feel your wildly beating heart, and he wished there was something he could do.

Xavier was always the strong one of the group. You could always lean on him whenever you needed, even if he was struggling with something himself. But he wanted to save everybody, even though he knew it was impossible. His own past haunted him, and this was just the newest addition.

The clock slowly ticked towards five in the morning, and you were still unable to find peace. You eventually sat up, Xavier's arm falling to the side as you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

"y/n?" he asked, sitting up beside you. You gave him a weak smile, which he frowned. "Do you need me to call someone?"

You shook your head, "I just think sleep is off the table for us tonight."

He laughed quietly, looking around the dark room to see Montana hanging partially off the couch. Brooke was right on the floor beneath her, her legs over Ray's stomach, snoring.

"I feel safe with everyone here," you admitted, glancing at Chet, who was curled up with a pillow. "I always felt safe with you guys."

"Me too," he admitted, taking your hand. "I know I've made a lot of bad decisions in my life. I always felt like I wasn't supposed to be here, you know?" Your heart hurt hearing that. "I got myself in so much bad shit, and I guess I still do that. But I'd always find my way back... I had my friends. I have you."

You wiped at your eyes, knowing Xavier hated to see you cry. "You've always had me." you laughed weakly.

"I wish I would have stopped being so stupid-."

"Are you kidding?" you laughed now, a little too loudly, you may add. "You just told me last night you were always flirting with me! You're the clueless one? Please."

Xavier gave you a smirk, and you reached up to pat down his messy hair. His blue eyes were bright in the night, and you knew you'd always be able to get lost in them.

"Do you think it would be inappropriate if I kissed you?" Xavier asked, tilting his head at you playfully. You blushed deeply, thinking of all the times you dreamed of this happening.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to rush into anything with me..." you admitted, smiling shyly at him.

Xavier nodded understandingly, "I normally would say that too. But today was an example that we're not promised anything, y/n. I don't want to waste any more time with you than I've already had."

You couldn't believe this was happening. After a silent agreement, Xavier leaned in, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. It was better than you ever imagined, your hands gently twisting in his hair as his arm slid around your waist, pulling you in tight. Xavier kissed you until you couldn't breathe, pulling away with a satisfied smirk.

"That was amazing." he grinned, keeping his arm around you as you smiled back.

"I know, thank you." you joked before you were startled out of your wits when you heard Montana mumble into her pillow, "Oh, thank God they finally kissed."

Your mouth fell open when Brooke tiredly said, "About time!"

"You guys heard them kiss? Gross!" Ray slurred.

"Were you guys listening this entire time!?" Xavier yelled, your shock finally wearing off as you laughed loudly, hiding your head under your blanket.

"Only the last few minutes," Montana said, turning over. "Thank fuck, you guys were driving us all crazy, not dating each other."

"You guys are the worst!" you cried out as Xavier laid beside you, a broad grin on his face.

"But you love us, y/n," Brooke giggled softly, "Goodnight."

You and Xavier finally fell asleep minutes after your friends fell back asleep. Chet stirred, peeking at you guys from his thick pillow. He smiled before laying back down to sleep.

taglist: some tags still aren’t working :(

@the-walking-daryl @trichy-knitts @shydragonrider @thefandomzoneisdangerous @lemonwhiskers @jetblackpayne @langdonsvcrd @okoktrinity22 @uwonman @stefanmikaleson1864 @sevenwonderwitch @rubbrninja @iamnotjesha @leatherduncan @imshakingandcryingrn @bratzblitz @goblackcat69 @brookethompsonownsme @bookoffracturedescapes @zodiyack @bitchchatter @guiltyfiend @psychobitchtess @aangrana @thexmancometh @wtfcas @pleasforhelp @capshoney @agentnightshade44 @frenchlangdon @morganelizabeth-paige-blog @fathoe69333 @infagnito @felicityofbakerstreet @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @arthurismybby @fandoms-allovertheplace @welcometothelioncage @mysteryartisticwriter

#xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton imagine #michael langdon x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #montana duke #ray powell #chet clancy #brooke thompson #ahs imagine #ahs 1984 #cody fern

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.16

A Shared Bed

11/17/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,113

Warnings: nakedness, angst, fluff, lots of fluff, finally some fluff, language

A/N: I don’t know how often I’ll be updating after this one as work is about to blow up with the holidays. Please be patient and thank you to those who already are! xoxo I hope you enjoy this chapter. I had such fun writing it and finally...just...FINALLY. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

TAGS ARE CLOSED FOR THIS STORY!

The castle is brimming with people.

They have been coming and going since late afternoon yesterday and you haven’t seen his Majesty since your reunion in the open courtyard outside of the gardens.

It’s all felt a little like a dream too good to be true. Except for the blonde. Lady Sharon. Who has stuck close to his Majesty’s side—or so you’ve heard from Peter who you finally sent for.

“Why is she with him?” You wonder, trying not to let your jealousy show but there’s an edge in your voice. You’re on pins and needles with this woman.

“They uh…” Peter hesitates, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.

You turn to look at him, having been watching the come and go of decorators, musicians, and the general gentry. The castle is echoing with laughter and chatter and there’s an air of excitement flowing through the staff. Only your friends are receptive to your own mood.

Only Nat has been with you since yesterday and watched you go from a smiling idiot to a stressed-out pregnant woman.

She’d been a little surprised that you were so ready to forgive him, but she was also pleased.

“They have business to speak of.” Nat tells you, getting up from her seat by your fire and moving to serve you some tea. “Come have some tea. Don’t worry about Sharon. She’s nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

You turn to move to your designated chair, extra padding added at Grandmother’s request. She and Nat are serious ramping up the overprotectiveness as of late.

“Why don’t I need to worry about her? And what business would she have with him?” Okay, so you’re more than just a little jealous.

It’s icky, and deep in your chest. No, in your ribs. In your bones. Moving like searing magma, charring your insides and making you feel wretched.

“Didn’t he tell you that you didn’t have to worry about Sharon?” Nat asks.

“Yes.” You sigh, reaching for your cup as she holds it out.

“Steve is a man of his word. You have nothing to worry about.” She promises.

But you’re not convinced.

You give Peter a wary look and he seems to read you easily as he gives you a quick smile then backs out of the room and shuts the door for you to give you and Nat some privacy. Not that he won’t be able to hear you…but at least he won’t see you directly.

“But she had her hands all over him.” You sigh, taking a sip. “And she was so…”

You bite your lip, thinking of the regal woman you’d seen holding tight to his Majesty’s arm. The two of them had looked so right side by side. A beautiful couple. The queen he deserves.

“I know what she looks like. And she’s a lovely person. She wouldn’t try anything, Y/N.” Nat assures you, but you’re only half listening.

“Nat…” You begin.

“I promise you, Y/N. If he says that there is nothing to worry about-”

“No.” You interrupt her, “It’s not…I told him.”

Nat’s face blanks as she slowly sits herself down, placing the plate of cold meats she’d been serving you down.

“You told him you’re pregnant?” She whispers, so quiet that you have to read her mouth to understand.

Peter’s just outside.

“No.” You shake your head. “I…I told him that I’m not really father’s daughter. That he found me on the side of the road.”

“What?” Nat asks, her hand completely still, unlike the shift in her eyes that tells you she’s on alert suddenly. “Why?”

“Because he was telling me that I was his pearl and his gem and that I was true royalty and grace and all these other really nice things and I-I’m none of that, Natasha. I just couldn’t stand there and watch him make love to me thinking that I’m more than I truly am, so I told him.” You swallow hard, your mind reliving the beautiful memory over and over.

“What did he say?” She asks, voice tight and controlled.

“I know it was your specifically assigned task to keep my secret. To protect it. To make sure that I was never exposed but-”

“What did he say?” She repeats, a bit sterner.

“I told him I was no one. But he told me that I’m a Rogers.” The flutter that fills your chest is pleasant. The smile that tugs at your lips us unstoppable. “I thought he would throw me out.”

Nat releases a slow breath, then reaches over to place her hand over yours.

“And you haven’t told him you’re pregnant?” She asks, a bit more loudly than she probably planned but at this point, you figure she doesn’t care.

There’s an audible sound of a chair clattering on the other side of your door and you guess that Peter now knows.

A split second later, the door is thrown open.

“You’re pregnant?!” Peter gasps.

“Shh.” Nat chastises him, rushing up to shut the doors behind him after taking a quick peek out.

You’re smiling at him thought, biting into your bottom lip.

“And you’re not really King Stark’s daughter?” He shakes his head. “Not that it matters. You’re my queen. And my friend. I think. Right?”

You chuckle a little, so happy to have Peter in your life as your personal guard and a true friend.

“Of course, you’re my friend. More. You’re family, Peter.” And he beams. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my true-”

“As happy as I am that Steve seems accepting of your true lineage, we should not advertise it. There are people who would use it to hurt you. From this moment on, you don’t speak of it. Okay?” Nat orders, turning a rare look of authority on you and Peter.

“Right. Of course.” Peter nods.

You’re more intrigued by her reasons though and though you promise yourself not to bring it up again ever, your brow is furrowed with curiosity.

“Who? How would they use it to hurt me?” You wonder.

“There are people who don’t want Steve as King. People who think they could do a better job. People who don’t think he deserves to be on the throne.” Nat moves to push your plate food closer.

“Why? He’s a good king.” You observe, thinking about how he was so kind and accommodating during his meetings with the people. The way he’d praised you for taking the initiative to help the poor.

He truly seems like a good man trying to rule his kingdom as best he can.

“There’s only one reason that he would have reacted badly to your…revelation yesterday. And it’s exactly for that reason. Because it’s a weapon that his enemies might use against him. But he loves you too much to care about that now.” She says.

“So, my low birth wouldn’t have mattered to him to begin with?” You wonder, watching Nat as she settles into her seat and relaxes now that all your cards are on the table.

“No.” She nods at your plate. “Please eat.”

You pick at the food. “Why?”

Nat meets your eyes and offers you a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No. Not that one. Blue or red. Keep the blues around my queen. She looks lovely in blue.” Steve gushes, smiling like an idiot. “She looks lovely in anything.”

Behind him, Bucky laughs. Sam’s smile is wide as he shakes his head.

“What?” Steve asks, turning to look at the two as they linger by the doorway.

“She’s forgiven you for a few hours and she’s already got you wrapped around her finger.” Samuel notices.

“I am not…” Steve begins, attempting to deny it but there is no sense in doing so. Every bit of what he just said is absolutely true. “I can’t help it. I thought I’d lost her.”

“We know.” Bucky assures him. “We’re happy for you, Steve.”

After a moment, Samuel moves over to a few of the decorators and whispers in their ears.

They drop their tapestries and tablecloths, ornamental candelabras, and plush reupholstered cushions. Quietly they leave the large room and shut the door behind them.

Sam follows. Checking to make sure the door is properly shut and locked before he moves with Bucky over to Steve as he fusses with your seat beside his. Both are even in height though before yours had been smaller.

Steve can’t believe he’d let you keep sitting in that. You’re his Queen.

He feels a sudden surge of pride and pure elation at the thought of such a woman by his side.

A pigeon you most definitely aren’t and he’s not sure why you’d pick that name of all the things he might call you.

“…I’m of no consequence.” You’d said. “I’m no one.”

He could see it in your eyes, the way Sharon must have made you feel. Out of place. Not good enough even though that’s far from the truth.

Sharon is trained, taught to be a lady from the day she was born. Like Maggie. Like all the other women in his life, save two. Natasha, and…

“How are you holding up?” Sam asks, and because Steve’s mind is already there, he knows what Sam means.

Steve moves to his seat and settles in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

The sleeves of his plain cream linen shirt are rolled up, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He’s sleepy. He hasn’t slept since the night before last. And yet, he smiles. His pink lips curl up into a small smirk as he looks up and meets Bucky’s grinning expression and Sam’s worried gaze.

“I’m fine.” He assures them, looking down at his hands. He can still feel you in them. Body trembling a little but pressed softly against his own.

You’d melted against him, as if you couldn’t help yourself. You still like him. For some odd reason…

“I didn’t think you’d be.” Sam says.

“I did.” Bucky counters.

“You always said-” Sam continues.

“I know what I said. I should have known better. My own mother rose from nothing.” He begins.

“Not exactly nothing,” Sam says, “She was a noble woman.”

“A poor one.” Steve nods.

Sam continues. “She owned extensive lands without having access to them because of the clause in her father’s will that she had to marry first. The dowager Queen was rich, Steve. Before she married the King. Not poor.”

“In name only. She didn’t have access to any of that wealth.”

“Point is,” Sam continues more firmly. “She was raised as a lady. She attended feasts and dances and she came to court which is how King Joseph fell in love with her in the first place. If Y/N had not agreed to do what she did, the two of you would have never crossed paths.”

“And I would have lost my kingdom.” Steve points out, feeling a little miffed that Samuel is painting this picture of you forever poor in whatever village you came from, away from him. Never to be seen or held. Not by him.

Maybe you’d have married some farmer? Or a butcher? Maybe you’d have married a drunk and he might have beat you every day?

Steve sits back and grips the arms of his chair, squeezing them until the woodgrain is etched into his skin and the creak of it bending in his angry grasp brings Bucky’s and Sam’s eyes to them.

“I don’t know what motivations Y/N had for agreeing to this arrangement. I know that it’s odd. It’s suspicious in some ways. But Tony trusts her, and I’ve seen her as she truly is. She’s not capable of deceit of this magnitude. Not on her own.” Steve’s grip relaxes.

“She has been lying to you about her lineage since she arrived. What do you mean she isn’t capable of deceit?” Sam questions, and although Steve knows he’s only doing his job as one of his advisors, he really hates him for planting these seeds of doubt in his mind.

You’re so sweet and perfect. Why can’t you just be you and not have an ulterior motive?

“Sam…” Steve sighs, shutting his eyes tight then opening them as if to clear them. “Why are you trying to ruin this for me?”

“I’m not.” Sam tells him. “I’m not.”

Steve opens his eyes and sees him eyeing Bucky who’s frowning at him.

“All I am saying is that you need to talk to her. Get her side of the story. The truth. Until we know everything, this is risky, Steve. We could be putting the whole kingdom in jeopardy.”

As if Steve doesn’t know that he would be the one putting the kingdom in jeopardy, not we as Sam says.

“I doubt she’s a spy, Sam.” Bucky interjects, moving to sit on the table fully, metal hand and flesh hand held between his legs loosely. “I met her in King Stark’s castle and she’s just as she was then, now.”

“And you’re probably right.” Sam nods. “She’s very sweet and kind and she is the queen our king deserves, but I just want to be certain.”

For a long minute, silence invades the room as Steve’s mind reels with the possibilities of what your lie might mean. You’d confessed so readily, as if you’d been dying to do so for so long.

He also knows you were coerced into confessing by jealousy.

He can’t help it. He smiles, cheeks sore from how happy he’s been, grinning like a fool.

“What?” Bucky checks, tearing his eyes away from Sam.

“Nothing.” Steve continues to smile. “It’s of no consequence.”

“That can’t be true if you’re grinning like that.” Bucky argues. “Tell me.”

“No.” Steve gets up then moves towards the doors.

“Come on, Steve.” Bucky complains.

“Maybe it’s private?” Sam offers.

“No. It’s not private.” Bucky realizes. “He’s just embarrassed. Are you being sappy again?”

Steve’s cheeks burn scarlet and his ears flame on as he stops by the doors, hands on the handles.

“She’s cute when she’s jealous.” Steve smiles. “She doesn’t know how impossible it is for me to want anyone else.”

“He’s being sappy again.” Sam agrees.

“You need a wife.” Steve tells Sam, then turns to Bucky. “And maybe if you were a bit more eager to make love to Natasha she would come around and finally say yes.”

“I do make love to her!” Bucky says. “I tell her how beautiful she is. I bring her flowers and gifts.”

“Nat said that Y/N hasn’t opened even half of my presents. She’s kept them in a pile in her room, but she reads my letters often. Sometimes, you need to tell a woman what you truly feel, or she might never know.” Steve looks at his best friend. “When’s the last time you told her you loved her and exactly what she means to you?”

Bucky opens his mouth to speak but then shuts it when he can’t remember when.

“I’m going to go remind my own beauty how much I love her. You’re welcome to tag along.” He offers, then turns and heads out the door as his decorators bow their heads.

Sam and Bucky watch him go, observing the bounce in his step.

“When do you think he’ll forgive himself?” Sam wonders.

“For which part?” Bucky asks. “Never, Sam. Even if they’re married all their lives. I don’t think he’ll ever stop trying to make up for what he did to her.”

“You mean their wedding night?” Sam nods.

“All of it. If I did to Nat what he did to Y/N…well, I’d be dead for one, but she would never forgive me.” Bucky moves towards the door as the decorators come rushing inside and back to work.

“Has she forgiven him?” Sam follows.

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A knock on your door startles you.

“Wait!” Peter’s voice pipes. “You can’t go in there yet.”

“Why not?”

His Majesty’s voice sends your heart into a thrill and you quickly rise from your tub.

Freshly bathed, you make to step out, but Natasha throws her arms out towards you.

“Wait!” She cautions. “Don’t! I’ll come to you.”

The panic in her eyes throws you and you realize that she’s afraid you’ll slip. But you’re already halfway out of the tub so you freeze with one foot on the carpet and the other inside your tub.

“What’s going on?” His Majesty asks, knocking on the door again. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“She’s fine. What do you want?!” Nat asks, irritated and rushing to you to help you step out fully and then wrap you up in your robe.

You look down as it clings to your form and you can see the bump of your barely forming belly and you can’t let him see you like this. He’ll know. You’re not ready to tell him yet.

I should tell him, though.

You chew your lip as Nat suddenly throws a thicker robe over your shoulders and wraps you up tight.

“There you go.” She smiles at you, reassuring you. “Should I let him in?”

“What do you mean, what do I want? I want to see my wife.” His Majesty argues, the grumpy note in his voice clear.

He doesn’t like being kept out of your room and it’s probably because he doesn’t want to take a step back after yesterday.

If you’re honest, you can’t wait to see him either.

You nod in answer to Nat’s question and she makes sure that your tummy is carefully padded with robe and then moves to open the door.

She cracks it open at first and you watch her back, relaxed from previous tension, as she looks through the split in the door up at a single blue eye as it peers in, eager to get a look at you.

“What if she doesn’t want to see you?” She wonders.

“Should I leave?” His Majesty asks, ready to comply but you can hear the regret in his voice and your heart gives a small ache.

You shake your head without speaking.

“If it was me, you’d be castrated and beheaded by now.” Nat informs him.

“Are you threatening your king?” His Majesty wonders, playfully though, so you know this must be normal.

“Every day.” She promises, then moves aside and pulls the door open.

His majesty is a vision…

He’s not dressed in anything fancy. He’s wearing a pair of plain trousers, the ones he wears when he goes on his rides or for a walk. His shirt is simple white linen, sleeves clinging tight to his arm’s muscles except around the forearm where they puff out and meet cinched at his wrist.

He looks tired, however. Eyes slightly dry. Hair a little limp. You can see it in him when he blinks, and his eyes struggle to reopen.

“You’re tired.” You realize, out loud, without meaning to.

The smile his mouth twists into, bright and brimming with joy dazzles you and you’re out of breath.

“You’re worried about me?” His gasps, moving towards you, ignoring Nat as he passes her.

Behind him, another familiar head with long black hair peeks in. Ice blue eyes look at the redhead and he wiggles his eyebrows. “My love.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you and Sam would be tied up all day.?” She wonders, reaching out for him and he takes her hand, kisses it, then smiles.

“I was given a lecture about showing appreciation for my woman.” Bucky explains.

“Your woman? Excuse you, good sir, but I am my own woman.” Natasha argues, her hand still in his.

“And yet, you’re mind. Come, let’s go for a walk before we lose the chance. You won’t mind if I steal my lovely betrothed, do you, your Majesty?” Bucky asks, looking at you as his Majesty reaches you and places his arms on your forearms, caressing them, holding them as he pulls you closer.

“N-no.” You reply, distracted.

“I’ll be back in half an hour to get you dressed.” Natasha says, fixing you with a reassuring gaze.

She wants you to tell him about the baby. She’s worried about the throne. She also wants you to be happy.

“Okay.” You whisper, very aware of the heat radiating off his Majesty’s body.

“Come on, Peter.” Natasha says, gripping his arm.

“What?” He replies in shock. “But-”

“I’m sure they don’t want an audience. Go get something to eat and maybe change for tonight? This’ll be your only chance.” She points out and without further argument, she closes the door behind her leaving you and his Majesty alone in your room.

The crackle of the fire is loud. Deafening in the weighty silence between you and his Majesty.

Your heart begins to pound. Nervous, you think about your tummy and almost look down at it but remind yourself that you shouldn’t, so you don’t.

When you think you might go crazy, your mind worrying about a million different things, you shut your eyes and inhale.

“Are you alright?” His Majesty asks. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I would have but something has happened, and we had to act very quickly.”

“What happened?” You wonder, grasping at anything to fill the silence.

His Majesty looks down at your chest then back up to meet your gaze as he considers what to say.

Does he not trust you?

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t trust me.” You say, miffed, and your voice is suddenly a bit colder.

“No.” He sighs. “No, Y/N, it isn’t that. I just don’t know how much to tell you. You need to know. It concerns your safety too.”

“My safety?” You ask, squeaking a little in fear but not for your own life but the one you carry in your tummy.

He nods. “Mmm.” His hands are explorative. Tracing the lines of your arms all the way back to your shoulders then down again.

As you begin to chew your lip, he reaches up and traces your bottom lip.

“Don’t be nervous, my flower. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” He assures you.

You shut your eyes, relishing in his touch but also trying to comprehend this man with the one that wouldn’t let you touch him.

“I’m…I’m a little overwhelmed.” You admit.

“Why?” He checks, suddenly pulling you towards a seat by your breakfast table. He makes sure you’re sitting then squats down in front of you.

He’s so tall even low as he is, he’s only an inch or so shorter.

“This change between us-?” You begin, but he sighs, and you stop speaking.

“It’s my fault, this distance between us. We have a lot to talk about. More than you know but know that I’m ready for you now.” He nods.

“I wish you’d been ready before.” You sigh.

“Me too.” His Majesty admits. “Every word that I’ve written to you is the truth. I have loved you since almost the moment we met. I fought myself hard because I didn’t think it was right, but she would not have wanted me to be cruel. She would have wanted me to be happy.”

You frown, hating the mention of Maggie from him. It’s bad, but you can’t help it.

“And I know I’m risking expulsion from your presence again by bringing her up but trust me when I say that I will never compare you to her again. I-Do you want to hit me?” He offers.

“Will it hurt?” You wonder, tempted.

He smiles, a small smirk at your threat. “Probably not. But I’d understand that it should.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, your Majesty.” You sigh.

“Steve, please, flower. Call me Steve.” He begs.

“I can’t yet.” You sigh.

He buries his face into your lap, just hating himself more for what he’s done to you.

Your heartbeat spikes, he’s so close to your stomach.

“I don’t want to replace Margaret.” You continue, eager to move on. “I never wanted to. Or to hurt you. All I wanted was for you to give me a chance.”

He looks up at you and your voice nearly chokes. Somehow, you push through it.

“I love you.” You confess, and the brightness in his eyes becomes unbearably pleasant.

He takes a deep breath and his chest swells with pride.

“All I want is a fair chance.” You bite your lip again and this time his Majesty leans in, thumb smoothing out the softness of your lip before he reaches back to hook his hand behind your head.

Your lungs are suddenly empty, and you inhale and hold it.

“May I?” He whispers against your mouth, the heat of his breath overwhelming.

You nod.

His Majesty presses his lips to yours and you whimper a little, unintentionally as his lips move against yours.

He devours you, a smattering of wet tongue and a soft kiss as he settles in between your legs while dropping down onto his knees to kneel more comfortably.

Your hand closes around the neck of his shirt, gripping it tightly as you cling for dear life.

His hands are wandering, moving away from your shoulders down to your waist and awfully close to your stomach.

The kiss is heated but because you have both been wanting it for so long. As he pulls back to tilt the other way, you lick your lips and sigh, finding his hands with yours.

“I’m pregnant.” You whisper, shocked yourself that it slipped out. “I…”

His Majesty pulls back a little, face suddenly pained as he stares into your eyes to see if you might be joking.

“Grandmother says that I am about four months along?” Your shoulders heave up and down as you try to catch your breath.

Your little revelation makes it harder to breathe because you’re nervous about his reaction.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I-I wasn’t sure whether you really wanted me.” You sigh, voice cracking a little in sorrow. “You’ve pushed me away, told me in so many ways that you don’t love me and I was afraid that if I told you that you would want me only because I was with child and I don’t want that.”

You smile at him tightly, on edge. “I want you to love me because you love me and not because I’m carrying your heir.”

His Majesty is silent, watching you with that same pained expression until he reaches up and cups the side of your face.

“If Thor touches you again, I’ll have him beheaded. I don’t care if it brings about war. If he looks at you with that wistful look again, I’ll scoop his eyes out with a spoon. He’s one of my closest friends, but if he ever tells me again how you taste like honey, I’ll slice his tongue out. This is how I feel.” His Majesty says. “You are mine. And I am yours. Before any children. Before any obligations or duties, if I don’t have you by my side, I don’t want this crown.”

You know you can only believe so much. If he had to fight for the Kingdom to save the people, he would, but you also understand what he’s saying. He kissed you before he knew you were pregnant. He loves you.

How much, you’re not sure. But he does love you. You smile.

“Do we have to have this feast tonight?” You wonder, reaching up to trace the lightly discoloration underneath his eyes.

He really does look very tired.

“Yes.” He tells you, rubbing your back with his large heated hands. “I have to correct other mistake that I’ve made with you that are not as personal and more politically driven.”

“What mistakes?” You wonder, still tracing the shape of his cheek.

He reaches up to take hold of that hand and pulls your fingers to his lips to kiss and just hold against his lips.

“There are rumors that I hate you.” He sighs. “Rumors that I don’t care about you. That you and I only married because it was my duty. Our duty.”

“Which is true.” You point out.

“Yes. But I do love you. You are my chosen Queen. And maybe things were different before, but I need them to know that you’re right where you should be.”

“Because I’m not really-?”

“You’re true royalty, Y/N. Never doubt it. I will show them that you are irreplaceable. That they’re wrong.” He assures you and presses a firm kiss to your palm.

“There’s something else you’re not telling me.” You frown.

His Majesty sighs.

Suddenly he brings both hands to your waist and then carefully begins to undo your robe. Your cheeks burn savagely, neck coursing with sudden heat. As he exposes your first layer, he undoes the second robe and moves that open too.

You sit before him, naked, with only the edge of the fabric shielding your breasts from full exposure.

His eyes are not on your nakedness however, but on your tummy.

He slides his hands into your robe, caressing the sides of that belly gently while also greedily taking in the feel of your freshy bathed skin.

“You smell good.” He says without thinking.

“I j-just bathed.” You remind him.

“While you were gone, we made a show of playing up an illness for you. The word was spread across the people that you were sick and that is why you had not been seen in weeks. Most believed it. Some didn’t.” He sighs.

He runs his thumbs along your side and though you might have once been focused on his words, the fact that he’s never touched you this way also keeps your brain from focusing.

“The meeting yesterday was about a resurgence of what is known as Hydra.”

You gasp, knowing the name. “They’re back?”

“And I think they’re the ones that attacked you the day you came home.” He nods, looking up to meet your eyes, speaks in a whisper. “We think that there are spies in my council. Trying to destroy my chances at keeping the kingdom. That’s why you’re in danger.”

He looks back down at your tummy and renews his caress.

“You and our little one.” He sighs, smiles, and then his expression darkens.

“This isn’t good news then?” You sigh too, reading the situation with new eyes and a fresh perspective.

He tears his eyes up to you and shakes his head. “This is the best news.”

He smiles.

“Please don’t let my need to contemplate every scenario darken this moment for you. I am so happy that you’re with child. I’m only sorry that I didn’t do my duties as your husband properly. I’ll make it up to you.” He runs his hands back to your lower back and halfway down your bum.

You gasp lightly, your body reacting to his touch again.

“I promise.” He smiles.

No, that’s a smirk.

“I wanted it to be you.” You confess, dropping your voice to a whisper in slight embarrassment. “When Thor kissed me. When he touched me.”

His Majesty’s brow furrows, and he growls as he pulls you closer, dragging the chair along the floor so that it groans loudly against the stone. You’re surprised by the pull and your hands hurry to his shoulders to cling in surprise.

“I swear I’ll kill him.” He says.

You shake your head. “He’s why I came back. If he hadn’t shown me that it could be good…that there might be a different way with you…I would have kept running.”

Your legs are spread around him, lifted up slightly so that your feet are hanging off the ground as your knees rest on the sides of his hips.

“I want to show you how good it can be.” He whispers, bringing his left hand down to your ankle to take hold of it possessively. “I was a fool. An idiot. A moron in denial.”

“You’re tired.” You realize as he closes his eyes in one quick blink, but they stay closed a bit too long.

“I have enough energy for you.” He swears.

“Your Majesty,” You chastise.

“Steve. Please, please. Call me, Steve.” He begs, leaning up to kiss your neck.

You shut your eyes; lips slightly parted as he pulls your leg up higher against the side of his hips.

“I c-can’t.” You gasp, breathless.

“I’m going to make you scream it.” He whispers into your ear and your body is red hot metal iron, heated until pliable.

As his tongue traces the shape of your ear, a heaviness begins to settle on your chest. Your lungs struggle to pull in a breath, and your heart is racing but not in excitement.

“No.”

And as if a sudden gust of wind has blown out his flame, his Majesty pulls back, hands move to your waist again, and he gives you a bit of space.

“No, I…I can’t.” You shake your head, disappointment flooding your chest as the fear and tightness there takes hold.

“I…” But you don’t need to go on.

“I’m sorry, my flower. Forgive me. I’m a little eager.” He says, his caressing hands trying to reassure you that you are safe.

“I-I’m eager too, I just…”

“I know it wasn’t good with me.” His Majesty suddenly says. “And our wedding night was—I will never forgive myself for what I did to you.”

“You’ve said that before.” You point out, feeling calmer by the second.

“And it will never stop being true. I did something unforgivable and somehow you’re able to love me still.” He reaches up to stroke your cheek.

“We love you.” You remind him, then reach for his hand and drag it down to your stomach. “Both of us.”

His Majesty is all smiles. As he continues to stare and as he feels your barely there bump, his eyes grow misty.

“Thank you.” He gushes. “For giving me this gift. For coming back home. For putting up with me.”

You nod. “Thank you for trying.”

He dives down to kiss your belly, nuzzling it with his nose as you slip your hands into his hair hesitantly.

Will he like the affection? You’re almost afraid to give it.

As your fingers card through his hair, he relaxes more and shuts his eyes.

“How much time do we have until the feast?” You wonder, looking towards the window at the day outside.

“Hours.” He says weakly.

“I’m tired.” You tell him, hoping that if all of this devotion is really true, he’ll try to make you feel better.

“You’re tired?” He worries, sitting back again to look at you.

“Yes. But I don’t want to part with you yet.” You admit. “Do you have anything to do this afternoon?”

“Nothing.” He says eagerly.

“Will you lay with me?” You hope he doesn’t see through your ruse and even if he does, that he’ll pretend not to.

“Yes!” He says, too eager. “Yes, of course.”

Carefully he helps you to your feet.

He’s just like Nat and Grandmother already, protective. Watchful.

You peel off the top robe, the thicker one, and set it aside then move towards your bed as you tie up the first, much thinner one.

Dry, it sways around you smoothly as you climb into bed and look for his Majesty.

He watches you from the foot of the bed, a look of concern on his face.

“The last time we were here I wasn’t-”

It’s true, you don’t have good memories with him in this bed, but you’re eager to change that.

“Come.” You tap his side of the bed. “I’m cold.”

Like someone has kicked his bottom, he springs forward to his side of the bed and climbs in quickly.

He lays down. Feet hanging off the bed.

With a frown you move over to them and undo his boots.

“I’ll do that.” He makes to sit up, but you push him back with surprising force.

You make quick work of his shoes and then lay beside him before you roll into the circle of his arms and press your hands against his chest.

He’s hesitant, his arms hovering around you loosely.

“Don’t you want to hold me?” You probe, eyes already shut.

Tight arms pull you close, leaving you in no doubt that he does indeed want to hold you.

It takes ten minutes of his hands gently stroking your back before they still and you peek to find him fast asleep, mouth slightly open.

You shut your own eyes and hope this isn’t a dream.

#king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve x you #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #medieval au #royal au #arranged marriage au #avengers x reader

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