#most of this idea i got months ago from thinkin more about how the end of StAAS is like a literal storm lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theteasetwrites · 2 years

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The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 82: Deep As a Wound

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, emotional abuse, mentions of sexual assault ❧ Word Count: 6.9k

❧ In This Chapter: After a close call with a band of predatory nomads, some bad memories flood back. Upon returning home to Alexandria, things only get more complicated when you make a surprising discovery.

❧ A/N: Though this is a Daryl-less chapter, we do get some moments between Reader and Lydia, during which Reader sort of lets herself feel the trauma of both her previous relationship and the events of Chapter 24. I also always have so much fun doing flashbacks! This one sort of gives an insight into Reader's relationship with Jerome and how that affects her now, especially after old wounds were opened in the previous chapter. Not sure what's going to happen with our new OC, Billy, but I have some ideas, depending on where this season takes us. Oh, and of course we have some pretty exciting (but scary!) news at the very end...

2008, Athens, GA

He fumbled with the keys to the apartment, cursing to himself at your habit of locking the door when you were the only one home. It was a useless safety precaution, as far as he was concerned, that only made life that much more difficult for him.

And of course, he knew you were home. Some music he didn’t care to recognize was playing on that stupid record player you lugged from your grandfathers’ house when he died six months ago. The sound of bare feet slapping against the wood floor and your lilted voice singing along to the tune of whatever you were listening to accompanied the muffled music in the air.

When he finally got the door open, he huffed at the state of the place: books scattered about on the coffee table, records sprawled out on the couch, and some stupid horror movie playing on low volume on the television.

“(Y/N)?” he called out, hanging his messenger bag on the designated hook behind the door. “What’s all this?”

You carried a tray of three mismatched antique teacups into the living room, and broke out into a wide grin at the sight of him, though he seemed a little disgruntled.

“Hey, baby,” you said sweetly, trying to win him over as you knew he knew of Aaron’s presence, and the man never liked Aaron, or anyone in your family, really. “I, uh… hope you don’t mind, but Aaron’s here. He’s in town for a few days, thought he’d surprise me I guess.”

You moved past him to place the tray upon the coffee table, moving around a few books to make room before crossing over to the turntable and turning down the dial on the volume, knowing Jerome didn’t really like your music.

He eyed you as you moved over to him, planting a kiss upon his cheek to gauge just how much of a bad mood he was in. When he didn’t return the kiss, and pulled away before you could plant one on his lips, you knew you were in for it.

“He’s here?”

You scratched the back of your head and bit your lip as your eyes moved between him and the hallway. “He’s in the bathroom… W-we can go out if you don’t want to see him, but I really want to see him.”

Jerome’s critical eyes roamed around the living room. “Looks like you’ve already seen him,” he said. “He can go now. You’re staying.”

You sighed and lowered your shoulders. “Come on, that’s not fair. He’s only in town for a few days, Jer, and… he’s my brother.”

“(Y/N), I—”

“Hey, Jerome,” said Aaron, emerging from the hallway and offering the man he pretty blatantly disliked the most genuine smile he could muster, considering he didn’t want to smile at him at all. “How are you, man?”

He nodded towards Aaron, giving him that one bit of acknowledgment. “Fine,” he said. “Been here long?”

Aaron shrugged, then awkwardly stuffed his hands in his jean pockets. “Just a few hours. Thought I’d see this one while I’m doing some lobbying at the capitol for my NGO. Thinkin’ about, uh, looking for an apartment in Atlanta while I’m down here.”

“We’re going to go looking around tomorrow,” you agreed. “See what the rent’s like.”

Jerome nodded his head in faux approval, though if he had it his way, you’d stop hanging out with your brother, who was, in his words, a “loser.”

“So you’re gonna be closer?” asked Jerome. “Atlanta’s pretty close to Athens.”

Aaron scoffed, but you shot a look his way, warning him not to say something snarky back.

“Uh, yeah. Pretty close. It’d be nice to be closer to my sister.”

“Mmm,” hummed Jerome. “Well, I’m sure you’re tired from your flight. Probably don’t wanna hang around here, watching shitty horror movies and dancing barefoot.” Jerome gestured to Aaron’s feet, which were, indeed, barefoot, like yours. You had both been rather goofily dancing to the old Oingo Boingo record on your turntable, Aaron’s choice. “Dead Man’s Party” was an old favorite of his.

Aaron tilted his head, giving Jerome that bitchy look of irritated disbelief he, too, had inherited from his mother. He didn’t really need to say anything, that look was enough.

“Right,” he said, and made his way over to you, hugging you once more and lifting you off the ground, eliciting a snort and a resounding giggle from your lips. He set you down and kissed your cheek, and gave you a knowing look, which you could only nod at. “Love you. See you tomorrow. Maybe we’ll have tea then. Pick me up at the hotel?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, and kissed his cheek back. “Love you.”

He didn’t bother bidding Jerome adieu, he simply gave him one last bitter look, and passive-aggressively slammed the door behind him, causing you to flinch and Jerome to rush over and lock the deadbolt.

“You didn’t have to be so rude,” you said softly, averting your eyes and trying to almost not be heard.

Jerome scoffed as he crossed the living room to turn off the television, and made his way to the turntable, removing the needle with a severe scratch to the record, no doubt ruining it.

As much as you wanted to yell at him for that, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, for fear he’d threaten to leave you again.

“Do you have any idea what kind of day I had?” he asked you, approaching you with a harshness to his step. “Is there even an inkling of a thought in that thick head of yours what kind of shit I’ve been doing?! I work my ass off at that hospital, taking shit from asshole doctors and kissing their asses so I can get somewhere, and you’re here… dancing with your idiot brother!”

You sighed and tried to keep your tears at bay, swallowing the lump in your throat. You hated when he yelled at you, it felt like being pierced through the heart, but maybe you deserved it.

Of course, you weren’t trying to complete a medical residency, but you were so close to getting your masters, and somewhere between studying and working two part-time jobs, you felt it would be nice to see your brother, to laugh with him like old times.

“I—I’m sorry, I—”

“Sorry? You’re sorry, (Y/N)? Look, I know you have your little dreams and your plans and your library shit or whatever, but what I’m doing, you could never understand that. I’m out there doing real shit, working with sick people, and this is what I come home to? I mean, why do I even come home anymore? Why should I stay here when you clearly don’t appreciate everything I do for you? What’s here for me? Tell me that, (Y/N).”

You shook your head in bewilderment, crossing your arms as you retreated into yourself, and looking away, not bearing to see that disapproving look on his face. All you ever wanted was to make him happy.

“Well,” you said, wiping your tears and sniffling, “I guess it’s just me. I’m here. That’s all.”

His hand tangled in his hair as he paced, thinking of just how to respond to such a simple phrase. It was true, you were here for him. You were always here. You gave him everything you had. It wasn’t enough, so he made you believe.

“I wanna believe that,” he said. “But I just don’t know if you really care about me, (Y/N). Not when you do shit like this.”

You shook your head and crossed over to him, tentatively taking his hand in yours. “Of course I care about you. I love you.”

His hand was cold, thin. Your fingers trailed over the veins and bony flesh, but in your denial, your desperation to believe he wasn’t torturing you, you thought he felt warm. You even convinced yourself that maybe he was squeezing your hand, too, but he wasn’t. He only wanted to see if you’d grovel for him.

“You love me?” he asked, suddenly turning to that tone he used when he needed you to prove yourself to him in other ways, sexual ways.

Sex with Jerome was never about love, it was about power, about you proving to him that he meant more to you than anything else, about you being subject to him, and him knowing he had you in the palm of his hand. Most of all, it was never about you.

You forced an uneasy smile, and felt his cold hand trail up your arm, making its way to the frilly sleeve of your floral sundress.

“I do,” you said through your tears. “So much.”

“I love you, too,” he said. “I’ll love you forever, you know that.”

“I do.”

He pulled you closer, and ghosted your lips with his. All you wanted was for him to love you, and even if all you got were scraps, you’d follow him anywhere.

“Show me how much you love me,” he said. “Make me wanna stay, and I’ll be here forever.”

“What do you want?” you asked sincerely, hoping to please him in any way he wanted. “I’ll do anything. Just… Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry.”

He stroked your hair and gazed over your face, satisfied with your pliability. It was always so easy for him to manipulate you the way he wanted, a constant source of amusement for him.

“You gotta try to be better for me, okay? No more of this silly shit.” He gestured to the pile of books, records, and VHS tapes left behind from your time spent with Aaron.

“I’ll be better,” you said. “I’ll prove it.”

All you remember from the rest of that night was trying to please him as best as you could, “making it up to him” for daring to do anything that he disapproved of, even if that meant being yourself and being with the ones you loved.

You tried so hard for him, to keep him, because you were so afraid you’d be alone again, that you’d never feel love or affection again. At some point, you had told yourself that he was the one, that you’d be with him for the rest of your life, but little did you know, Jerome didn’t even come back from the hospital that night.

He came back from sleeping with a nurse.

Now, somewhere in Virginia

“(Y/N)?”

Lydia’s voice cut through your memories, and you were grateful for that, since thinking about how much Jerome manipulated you was so painful, and if there was ever any time in your life that was wasted, it was whatever time you spent with that man.

She shuffled over to you, sitting down beside you on the ground, against the giant grain machine you had earlier sank down against in defeat.

You’d made it to the mill, with the help of the stranger, Billy, who sat a few yards across, tending to the fire over which he cooked a pot of beans. Wherever Billy had come from, he had food.

He’d told you that it was once a small community, but it had been destroyed and pillaged by the four men you came across earlier that day. He didn’t go into much detail about the event, but based on what you knew of the men, whatever they had done must’ve been even worse than he described.

As a result, he was the only one left that he knew of, and he spent the last week tracking the men, out to get his revenge.

That was about the extent of what you knew of Billy, but he had offered to lend a hand in the journey, knowing both of you were exhausted and hungry. It was a hard decision, trusting the young man, but you kept your knives close, and always had your axe within reach.

At least the mill had plenty of wheat, sorghum, barley, rice, lentils, chickpeas… You each had about four burlap sacks of different types of grains, and though you were still debating on whether or not Billy could join your community, you were hoping he’d at least stick around long enough to help carry them on his horse.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you lied, entranced by the light from the fire reflecting off the blade of Daryl’s knife. It had his initials carved into the blade, as he often did with most of his things to signify that they were his. The man wouldn’t admit it, but he was sentimental, obsessed with objects and having his own things. If you were to psychoanalyze him, you’d say it was because he never had anything of his own growing up. Now, he lent you these knives, and you found some comfort in feeling the ghost of his warm, strong hand around the handles.

Trailing your eyes up from the blade, you faced her. “Are you okay?” you asked.

She shrugged, but began to nod her head slowly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

It’s okay if you’re not okay, you thought, but maybe it really was just you who wasn’t okay.

“It was a close call today,” you said shakily. “You did good.”

She lowered her head and fiddled with the old piece of machinery she held in her hands. “Thanks… I’ve never run into people like that before. I—I know what they wanted, but I don’t understand it.”

You straightened your back and sniffled, trying to maintain some semblance of composure to ease the girl’s thoughts. “It’s hard to understand.”

Several beats of silence, during which the crackling of the fire was the only sound, passed before Lydia spoke again.

“How can we trust him?” she asked you, nodding her head towards the man looking solemnly into the base of the fire. “How do we know he’s not like them?”

You sighed and shook your head. “We can’t, but he hasn’t done anything yet, or shown any signs of something off, so you keep your wits about you, and hope he’s not like them. I won’t let him hurt you, Lydia. I won’t. That I promise you.”

She nodded, her eyes trailing back to your lowered head. Aside from the obvious fatigue that plagued you, and the bullet graze on your arm, there had been something off about you since the event at the house, so much so that even Billy had asked Lydia why you seemed even more shaken up than her.

She had no idea, but she wondered if there was something.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

“Have you… Have you run into people like that before?”

You shifted uncomfortably at the question, and cleared your throat as you tried to look her way, but an unexplainable shame came over you, like acknowledging what had happened, or almost happened, wasn’t something you had a right to do, not in front of the young woman before you, who had seen so much more than you, and had herself been somewhat haunted by the day’s events.

Whenever that night came back to the forefront of your mind, you tried to push it away, insisting that it was nothing, that Jerome didn’t rape you, so you had no trauma, no reason to be hurt or scared by what had happened. Of course, if what had happened to you had happened to anyone else, you would never minimize their trauma, but you? You never thought you had any right to feel like you had suffered.

Even when you had recurring nightmares of the event, wriggling yourself awake in Daryl’s arms and breaking out into silent sobs, hoping he wouldn’t hear you, you felt ashamed to be so scared and vulnerable, and, to some extent, ashamed that you had been so negligent to see what Jerome wanted from you, as if even after the emotional manipulation he put you through, you wanted to believe he wouldn’t hurt you again.

Of course, Daryl awoke from your crying, the light sleeper that he was, and would always nearly jump out of his skin to hold you and ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you’d say, and despite his concerns, and his knowledge that, indeed, something must’ve been wrong for you to wake from your sleep in a fit of tears, he’d not say much more, but simply assure you that he loved you, and that he was there.

Now, when Lydia asked you if you’d run into people like that before, you weren’t entirely sure how to answer. You hadn’t spoken about Jerome and that night in so long, probably not since around the time it had happened. You tried not to think about it at all, or to worry Daryl if you let it haunt you too much.

Well, you had to tell the truth, now that she was asking.

“I, uh… I have. A long time ago, but it was different.”

“Why was it different?”

You sighed and palmed at your forehead, at war with yourself as you tried to decide whether or not you were ready to open up about this again. Still, you weren’t going to stop Lydia from asking, as a part of you desperately wanted to talk about it, now that old wounds had been opened.

“Because it was someone I knew.”

Lydia was silent again, now afraid to ask more, but also seeing that perhaps you needed to talk about it, and maybe if she kept asking, you’d feel better. Somehow.

“What happened?”

You sniffled and looked her way, trying to assess the extent to which she wanted to know the details of that night.

“I haven’t really told anyone,” you said. “I mean, Daryl knows. He was there… Carol knows. Michonne and Maggie know, but… I’ve never even told my brother, you know? It’s worse with him because he knew him before all this.”

Lydia furrowed her brow in slight confusion, and you realized then that if she was to understand what happened, you had to start at the beginning, something you really didn’t want to do, but you knew it was time to, after today.

“It was at the prison,” you said, starting at the most logical place you could think of. “In Georgia. You remember I told you about Rick, right?”

She nodded in affirmation.

“Well, Rick came back from a run one day, and he had found this guy, brought him back to the prison. This guy… I knew him from before. We, um… we were together.”

You quickly realized from Lydia’s face that she must’ve been confused about the timeline of your romantic relationships, considering the only boyfriend she knew about before Daryl was the guy in the rock n’roll band.

“Not Freddie,” you confirmed with a slight laugh, trying to make as light of the situation as you could. “Freddie was one of the better ones, before Daryl. No, uh, this was Jerome.” Bile seemed to rise in your throat with just the utterance of his name, which you hadn’t said out loud in so long.

“So, Jerome showed up out of nowhere,” you continued. “I thought he died. He didn’t seem like the kind of person to survive very long, but I guess I didn’t either.”

Thoughts of your relationship with Jerome came flooding back, and every stupid thing you let him do to control you and make you feel inferior was more salient than ever. With age, you tended to become more and more aware of how much damage he did, the residual of which still lingered today.

“Our relationship was… unhealthy. He’d never physically hurt me before that, or… forced himself on me, but he manipulated me, treated me like shit. When I was with him, I had to pretend to be someone else because I was afraid he’d leave me if he didn’t like who I was. I didn’t want to be alone so bad I actually begged him to stay whenever he’d tell me I wasn’t good enough for him. So, I guess I should’ve seen it coming, but what he tried to do that night wasn’t something I’d ever thought he would do.”

You swallowed hard, holding back tears that fell anyway, distorting your voice and dripping down your cheeks.

“He tried to rape me,” you said through tears, shaking your head at the shameful thought. “And I know… I know it wasn’t my fault. I—I know that, but it just… It feels like I should’ve known, after everything.”

Lydia moved closer to you, taking your shaky hand in hers and squeezing it hard. Her touch soothed you a bit, and you raised your hand to wipe your tears, and tried to control yourself again.

“I hated him,” you said. “I still hate him, but I don’t know… Maybe I was still hanging on to whatever I felt for him. Maybe… I still cared for him in some way, so I didn’t want Rick to throw him out, and I really didn’t want Daryl to do… what Daryl does. I just wanted to stay away from him, but he kept pushing, and when he tried it, I was alone, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I… I killed him. After that, everyone thought I was a monster, and I had to live with the fact that the first person I ever killed, the first live person, was the man I once thought I’d do anything for.

“And you wanna know the worst part?” you continued, crying once again as you thought of every type of pain you felt after that night. “I still have nightmares about him, and when Daryl asks me why I wake up crying, I… I can’t tell him, because… I don’t want to put another burden on him, and I’m scared that… That it would break his heart.”

She leaned closer to hug you, causing you to flinch slightly at her sudden movement. You lowered your head and gripped her forearm, crying harder than you had before, and without end in sight.

Lydia cried then, too, feeling the weight of your experience, coupled with the fear of what had almost happened that day. The sorrow you shared with her was cathartic, strengthening. For the first time in a while, you felt bravery in crying, in being vulnerable.

“(Y/N),” she said after a while, her voice muffled against your shoulder. “You could never be a burden for him.”

However many hours were left of that night were spent keeping an eye on Billy, so no one slept, except the horses.

He didn’t say much on the ride back, except when you asked him what his plans were, just a few miles away from Alexandria.

“When we get to your settlement,” he said, “I’ll go my own way, leave you two with my horse and the grain. I won’t need it.”

You furrowed your brow, looking between him and Lydia as the three of you rode on in the midday light.

“Don’t you want to take some of the food?” you asked. “We can spare a little, considering you helped us.”

“Nah,” he said, and gestured to his satchel. “I’ve got plenty of my own.”

The next offer you made was a risky one, but considering Alexandria needed more manpower than ever, and you just felt bad for the young man, you made it.

“You could stay,” you said, and his head turned swiftly to look at you in bewilderment. “If you want. Our community isn’t the strongest it’s been, but you could prove your worth by helping us build it back up again, if you’re willing to put in the work.”

Billy broke out into a wide smirk, and let out an amused chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” asked Lydia seriously. “We’re offering you a home.”

“Nothing,” said Billy with a shrug. “I just can’t believe it, that’s all.”

“We’re a small community,” you said. “We look out for each other. We’re giving you a chance, so don’t make us regret it.”

He shook his head, looking at you more seriously now. “Thanks, but I’m better on my own… Maybe I’ll see you around, though.”

Sure enough, the mysterious, but generous, young man left, but you insisted he keep his horse, and a few days’ worth of grains.

Billy rode off towards the woods, and you wondered if, indeed, you would see him around.

The spoils of your little adventure were great, adding another week’s worth of food for the entire community, while putting less pressure on the mission at Meridian.

Celebrations didn’t last long, as the day after you returned to Alexandria, an intense storm, complete with torrential rain, thunder and lightning, and fierce winds, struck.

There were several close calls with sections of the already weakened walls blowing down, and walkers getting in through the breach.

It’d been a rough day and a half of weathering the storm, but it did pass, as it always did.

Now, though, Alexandria was in the worst shape you’d ever seen it, even after the Saviors attacked. Even your own house had suffered a great deal of damage, with considerable flooding in the basement that had been converted into Lydia’s bedroom, broken windows, and a fallen tree branch that had torn a hole in the roof of study.

Aaron, and several other men from Daryl’s “boys’ nights,” as you called them, helped you patch up the roof, but it was only a temporary fix, and the flooding in the basement was going to take a while to remedy.

The next day, you got to work helping the crew that was working on the walls under Aaron’s supervision. He was the most determined to get Alexandria back to its former glory, and you were right behind him, lifting heavy sheets of corrugated metal and hammering them back into place.

The problem, however, was that you were beginning to feel sick. Very, very sick.

You hadn’t been feeling right for about a month now, and although Daryl and the others who noticed your unusual fatigue were certain it was from a lack of nutrients, you had a funny feeling that you had started to feel a little off just before the food began to run out.

That, and you’d been near starvation before. This wasn’t just that. True, it wasn’t helping, but you were beginning to think you were sick in some other way, though you shuddered to think why.

You removed the muddy glove from your hands to palm at your forehead, stumbling a little as you tried to keep your balance. Your equilibrium had been off sporadically, dizziness overcoming you at the most inopportune times.

Now, though, it was accompanied by a sudden bout of nausea, which didn’t sit right with you at all.

Fear propelled you away from the little voice that had been in the back of your mind, screaming at you louder and louder as each day passed with another symptom.

Aaron took notice of your discomfort, nodding towards you as he made his way over, gesturing to you with his metal arm.

“You okay?”

You nodded, still looking down and focusing all your energy on not vomiting. “Dandy,” you replied. “Just… give me a second.”

He tilted his head and huffed. “(Y/N), take a break. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you look terrible.”

You scoffed. “Aaron, I’m—”

A sudden, harsh pang in your stomach seemed to knock the wind out of you, causing you to double over and vomit out the little bit of food you had let yourself consume.

A few concerned faces looked your way, and quickly came to your side. Aaron shooed them away politely, telling them to get back to work, or something like that. You were a little too focused on the vomit coming out of your mouth.

“Time to go home,” said Aaron.

He held your arm and nearly dragged you home, but not without having to hold your hair back as you vomited on the front porch. At least the place was already in shambles on account of the storm, otherwise you would’ve been mopping up that vomit almost immediately after it expelled from your body.

Aaron dragged you up the stairs, and forcibly tucked you into your bed, reminding you once again that he was, in fact, your older brother.

“God, I feel awful,” you said, graciously accepting a cup of chamomile from Aaron.

“Is Mommy okay?”

You peered over Aaron’s figure to see Robin in the doorway of your bedroom, holding her white rabbit as usual, with Lydia close behind her, holding her shoulders and worriedly looking in.

“I’m fine,” you said with a laugh, though you really didn’t feel fine. “Just sleepy.”

“Yeah,” agreed Aaron with a huff, though he was quite worried, too. “She’s fine.”

“Anything we can do?” asked Lydia, referring to herself and the little girl in front of her.

You tilted your head and sighed. “No,” you said, but the downcast faces of the two young girls immediately kicked in your motherly instinct to give them something to take their minds off whatever was going on with you. “Okay… Lydia, you should work on getting those grains ready to eat for everyone. The mortar and pestle are in the pantry downstairs. Robin, sweetheart…”

You sighed, trying to think of something for the six-year-old to do in your stead, but most of the work you had cut out for you today involved either manual labor or skill sets that Robin hadn’t yet developed.

“Why don’t you… Ah! I know, why don’t you bring water to the people working on the wall. Use the emergency jug in the garage. It’s in the big cabinet by Daddy’s workbench, and get the paper cups from the kitchen, and don’t forget to—”

“I’ll help her,” said Aaron, turning around to face Robin. “Go get the supplies and I’ll be down in a little bit to help you, okay? Just let me get your mom settled.”

“Okay, Uncle Aaron.”

“Be careful!” you called after her, her light footsteps skipping down the stairs, eager to help in any way she could. “Make sure she doesn’t trip or something. She keeps forgetting to tie her shoelaces.”

Aaron nodded with a faint smile, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. He sat in silence for a while, debating on whether or not to bring this up.

“(Y/N),” he said. “I know you’re tired, and hungry… Everyone’s been feeling out of it, but I haven’t seen you throw up in… Well, since, you were pregnant.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “Oh, come on. I just have a little… stomach… bug.”

As you stumbled over your words, it hit you, not unlike that day you found out you were pregnant with Robin. Of course, the thought had lingered in your mind, since you really never got sick like this. Even before the apocalypse, you had only thrown up a few times in your life, and it was always food poisoning.

“N-no, that’s impossible” you said, denying the voice inside your head that had been telling you it could be possible, especially since the last time you had sex with Daryl, about a month ago, you both had been negligent to use protection, and both of you were too euphoric in the midst of your miraculous reunion to bother pulling out.

Oh, and you supposed it didn’t help you had unprotected, uninterrupted sex all night long.

Your rationale had been that it took over a year to conceive your first and only child, so surely one night wouldn’t hurt. Well, now that you let the unconscious thoughts surface to the forefront of your mind, it seemed plausible that you were, in fact, pregnant.

“Oh, Aaron,” you sighed, palming your face and sinking down against your pillow. “Now I’m worried.”

Aaron reached forward to take your hand in his. “Hey,” he said. “It’s just a possibility. I mean, it could be anything… But could it be that?”

“Yes,” you huffed. “It could be that, and it… feels like that. I just didn’t think it would happen, neither did Daryl.”

Aaron nodded in understanding. “It’s okay, (Y/N). Hey, why don’t I bring you a test from the infirmary, that way we’ll know for sure.”

“I have some tests in the bathroom downstairs,” you said. “From when we were trying.”

“Okay,” he said, flashing you a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.”

When he came back with several boxes of tests you hadn’t seen in so many years, a sense of dread came shooting up through you, and you vomited again, this time both out of nausea, and out of fear.

This was perhaps the worst time you could think of during which to get pregnant. Alexandria’s infrastructure was unstable, the walls were barely standing up, food was at an all-time low, medicine and people with medical knowledge were now scarce, and the population was already much too high with all the refugees from Hilltop and Maggie’s group.

The motivating factor in deciding when to have Robin was dictated by the safety and prosperity in which you and Daryl found yourselves. You were sure the state of the community now was not ideal for bringing another child into the world.

That, and you and Daryl had decided long ago that one child was enough, that your little family was everything you ever wanted, so there was no need to try for another baby, especially since Robin was, in every conceivable way, the perfect child.

You didn’t want another baby, and you were sure Daryl didn’t either.

Would he hate you, retreat into himself as he had done before? Would he do the unthinkable and leave you, Robin, and whatever baby you brought into this world? Then, you would be alone. You’d have Aaron and your children, and the rest of the people in Alexandria, but you wouldn’t have him.

Of course, you weren’t sure what part of your anxious mind was concocting all this worry. You knew Daryl loved you, that he loved your little family, and that he’d never, ever leave you, but it terrified you. The idea of being alone had always haunted you, but being without Daryl was something entirely different, like a flower pulled unceremoniously from its roots.

Well, you supposed all that didn’t really matter now, since whatever reality awaited you came down to this moment, the moment you held that stupid little stick in your hand, wrapped in toilet paper to conceal the result until you were ready to look at it.

Aaron sat beside you on the bed, holding your other hand and waiting for the result to be revealed.

“Whatever it says,” said Aaron, “we all are here for you. You know that.”

“I know,” you said with a faint, strained smile. “But I’m scared… If I’m pregnant, it’s not like I even have a choice.”

He understood what you meant, since in the world you lived in now, there wasn’t really any choice to terminate the pregnancy. At least, not safely, or with any guarantee that it would work. There was always the chance that you could miscarry, or the baby could be stillborn, but that was equally as terrifying as delivering the baby in the less than ideal situation you found yourself in.

“Well, if it’s positive, we’ll do everything we can to help, and make sure everything’s all right.”

You nodded as you looked down at the wrapped up pregnancy test in your hands, and slowly began to unravel the toilet paper, now that enough time had passed.

You stopped midway, your hands shaky and your dizziness throwing your head in a dazed circle. Aaron reached forward to lean you back against the pillow, and gently took the test from your hand.

“I’ll read it,” he said. “If you want.”

You closed your eyes and breathed a heavy breath. “That’d be great.”

Continuing to unravel the bundle of toilet paper, he finally read the indicator, swallowing hard before opening his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

You opened one eye to see his reaction, and it was hard to discern. “What does it say?”

Aaron cleared his throat and looked back up, wide-eyed and in disbelief. “It’s positive, sis.”

You yanked the stick from his hands, refusing to believe it before you saw it yourself. Indeed, there was a red plus where there hadn’t been one before, and though you knew what that meant, you reached clumsily for the box on your bedside table, your eyes moving back and forth between the directions and the stick.

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head vehemently. “No way. I’m taking another one. These things are expired anyway.”

You ended up taking four more, depleting your supply of pregnancy tests. They all came back the same—positive.

“Goddamnit!” you cried, throwing the last urine-drenched stick across the room in anger, Aaron dodging the object as it flew over his head. “It took me over a year to get pregnant, and the one time I let Daryl—”

You looked wide-eyed at Aaron, realizing you’d just almost been a little too graphic about your sex life in the presence of your brother. “God, sorry,” you huffed. “It’s just so frustrating… What am I supposed to tell him, Aaron? He’s going to lose his shit, and then he’s going to be worried out of his mind. He’s already got so much he’s dealing with right now, trying to keep everyone fed and carrying all this… weight on his shoulders. Now I’m just going to be another burden. Christ, Aaron, I can’t do this to him!”

Aaron stepped forward to clasp his hands around your shoulders, and steadied you as your dizziness and anxiety threatened to send you falling to the ground. “Sit down,” he instructed, forcing you to sit back down on the bed. “You’re not thinking straight, (Y/N). Now, you know that man loves you unconditionally, and he’d never see you as a burden. This is his responsibility, too. It’s not just on you.”

You breathed a deep sigh as you ran your fingers through your hair, then let out an exasperated raspberry. “How the hell are we going to tell Robin?”

Aaron let out a small chuckle at the thought. “Well, if I remember correctly, when Mom and Dad told me I was gonna be a big brother, I was pretty damn excited.”

You smirked at that. Aaron always knew exactly how to make you feel better, even in the worst possible situations, and this had to be one of them.

“It’s a built-in best friend,” he continued. “Someone you get to boss around… Of course, I was hoping for a little brother, but I guess I’m happy with what I got.”

You raised an eyebrow and huffed at that. “What if… What if something goes wrong? I’m older now, and—”

“(Y/N),” sighed Aaron. “We will figure it out. All of us. You’re not alone. You’ve got a family, tons of people who love you and will make sure nothing happens to you. I know you’re scared, and that’s understandable, but everything’s going to work out.”

You sighed, and finally nodded after a while of silence, still processing everything.

“You really think Daryl won’t be upset?”

“He’s your husband. You know him better than I do,” he replied. “But yeah. I mean, I think he’s gonna shit his pants from worry, but he’d never be upset with you. Not for this.” He gestured to your belly, poking it with his metal hand ever so slightly and eliciting a small chuckle from your lips. “What are you afraid of, (Y/N)?”

You shrugged and wiped your eyes, already beginning to tear up. “Stupid things,” you said. “What I’ve always been afraid of… Not being good enough, disappointing him.”

“God, (Y/N). Do you really think you could ever disappoint him? Really? He worships the ground you walk on. Ten years together, and you know that. You must know that.”

“Most of the time,” you said, “I know. I know he loves me, just as much as I love him, but when I think about what I went through with…”

“Don’t even compare Daryl to that son of a bitch,” said Aaron seriously. “Why would you think that?”

You shook your head, trying to dismiss the idea. Of course you knew Daryl was nothing like Jerome, but the events of the day before last had brought up memories that brought you back to a more vulnerable state.

“I don’t know, I guess I just remembered how he treated me again… I still feel so stupid for wasting my time on him.”

“He’s the one who should feel stupid, wherever he is.”

He’s dead, you thought. I killed him. But of course, you weren’t sure if you ever wanted Aaron to know about all of that. You thought it might upset him more than anything, and it wasn’t worth it.

“None of that matters now, (Y/N). What matters is what’s happening now, and what’s happening now is that you’re pregnant. And when Daryl comes back, you’re gonna tell him, and he’s gonna be happy.”

You laughed through your tears, and wiped away the snot that had rather unattractively accumulated in your nose.

“Well, I hope so. I guess we’ll just have to deal with it. Maybe it won’t be so bad, having another kid. Maybe it’ll be a boy, that’d be cool, huh? A girl and a boy.”

“Like us,” laughed Aaron. “About the same number of years apart, too.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “We’ll see.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

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If you seen your name is on the taglist but you didn't get tagged, it's because Tumblr won't let me tag you for some reason, sorry!

#daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus #the beginning series

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

You’re Important to Me part 4

Part 1 | part 2| part 3

Genre: angst/comfort

———————————————————————-

Chat: Troublemaker (affectionate)

Lucifer: Come home immediately. We need to talk.

Mammon: bout what? If its one of your shitty punishments. Think I’ll pass.

Lucifer rested his head on his desk letting out a groan. The second-born was frustrating him to no end. However, the first-born supposes he’s made him this way from everything he’s put him through. Picking up the pill bottle, he rolled it in his hand and watched as the contents slid from one side to the other. He placed them in a locked door in his desk as he thought about how they had been this close to losing yet another sibling.

A soft rapping on the office door pulled his attention back to the present.

“Enter,” he sat up straight as the guest joined him. It was Levi.

“Do you think Mammon still loves us. I-I’ve really been thinking about what’s been going on….. about our family. What if he leaves us? We lost Lilith. I-I don’t want to lose him too…” The Avatar of Envy’s voice quaked. Back when they were angels they were once close- almost even closer than the twins.

“I’m sure he does, Levi.” His response was hollow words. If Lucifer was being honest, he didn’t really know how Mammon felt about them currently. If he were the one in Mammon’s shoes, he would absolutely despise his brothers.“He’s currently refusing to come home, however. It’s likely that he knows what went on today and that’s why he broke up with the human we all know he cherishes so deeply. He didn’t want us to know.”

“I knew it! He hates us and never wants to see our faces again.”

“Leviathan, I never said that.” Lucifer’s voice was stern. “Please calm down before you throw yourself into a panic attack. He has to come home eventually, and we’ll all talk then- if not tonight then definitely tomorrow morning. For now, maybe you should go play one of your games. If you’d like I could join you to help take your mind off this whole debacle.”

Levi nodded his head slowly. “ I would appreciate that….. Actually, I had made this rpg specifically to play-test with Mammon but if you wanted to….we could play it together.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, Levi.”

Finally deciding to make his way home, Mammon pushed open the heavy doors to the house. The last thing he wanted to do was face his brothers right now. He already anticipated their reactions. The teasing and mocking that would be thrown his way- there wasn’t any escape for him now, was there? At least no one was here at the moment- that much he could be greatful for.

As he made his way up to his room, the demon made sure to avoid the places he knew his brothers would frequent at this time of night. Once there, he slipped inside and tossed the bag of clothes he had modeled in today from the top of of the stairs into the walk in closet with practiced precision. When he turned his head, he saw her small, blurry form just lying there on the couch.

“Why’re you in here? Ya got a room if your own dontcha?”

“I just….. sorry. I pushed too hard, didn’t I?” Arella’s voice sounded hurt. “It was just that I thought this might be the only place I could go and you’re brothers wouldn’t come looking for me. I’m still really angry with them. Not that they would anyway, not with how I screamed and yelled at them earlier...”

“And Lucifer didn’t kill ya on the spot? Its a miracle you’re alive after that.” He let out a chuckle. “I can’t tell if you’re incredibly brave or just plain dumb.”

“Maybe both…..” Arella sighed, “I… um… I’ll go back to my room now.” As she stood and made her up the staircase, he could feel the sadness radiating off of their pact mark.

“‘Rella, wait.” He grabbed her by the arm. “Don’t go. I don’t mind if ya stay…. We should talk about earlier, okay?”

He watched as she nodded a small frown on her face. Now that he could see her more clearly, he noticed the puffy eyes and tear tacks streaked down her cheeks. Now he just felt worse.

“I was thinkin’ real hard about this morning and I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” He started, “I don’t… I don’t really think we should break up…. I know you were just trying to help. That you were worried and scared for me.”

“I was…. Can I tell you something?“ she asks as he nods. “Seven years ago, I lost my little brother and then six months later my mother to suicide. One to cyber bullying, the other because she was so consumed with grief from the loss of a child that she saw no way to go on…. Do you know what was like….. to find their bodies? To realize you could have helped them if you had just paid attention and seen the warning signs? It still affects me to this day….They were the only blood related family I had left until I had found a new family here in the Devildom with you and your brothers. A-and then when you were saying all those things last night, I- I flashed back to the night I had found my brother but instead of him it was you and I-I-”

Mammon pulled the human tight against his chest in what could have been a bone crushing hug if he wasn’t careful and she buried her face in his chest. Her body shook with with muffled sobs.

“I’m sorry. I was running my mouth without thinking ‘bout what that might do to everyone- worst of all you….” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I wont say things like that ever again. No matter how I’m feelin’.

He walked her back towards the bed, letting her get in as he went to go change into some more comfortable clothes for sleeping. He joined her in bed shortly after, pulling her close as he wiped the stray tears from his cheeks. Arella moved closer so she could lay her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat, her crying reduce to quiet sniffles and hiccups by this point.

“Ya know, I think you just wasted your breath when you were yellin’ at my brothers earlier…. I think to them, I’ll just always be the family screw up. I’m already dreading the teasing I’ll get tomorrow at breakfast….”

“It had to be done, though. I think I managed to set them all straight….If you could have seen the look on their faces when I lost control of my temper and fried all the electronics in the common room or when I commanded Asmo to sit so hard he crashed face first into the floor….”

“Wait…you did what?” He quirked an eyebrow as he stared down at her before breaking into a soft laugh, “Ya really are something else, Hon, ya know that? I’ve never met someone who would fight for me like this before- who would call my brothers out on their bullshit.”

“Only because I know you don’t deserve to be treated this way…. You… you deserve good things and to be treated well by the people who you love most.” She yawned as she stretched out a little more in his embrace. “And because I love you and I would be lost if anything were to happen to you.” Her eyes were starting to slip closed.

“I love you too, babe.” The demon hummed as he started to card his fingers through her hair. As soon as he was sure she was out like a light he pressed his lips to the crown of her heard once more.

“Thank you for being here on my worst days, for being my little ray of sunshine down here in the dark.”

Once the morning came around, most of Mammon’s brothers gathered in the common room. They were awaiting the entrance of the Avatar of Greed as it was nearly breakfast time.

Lucifer had figured Mammon would be avoiding them as if they had the plague, so he instructed Beel to drag him in here by any means necessary. They all knew he was successful when they heard Mammon let out a surprised yelp and the clattering of a bowl against the floor.

“C’mon, Beel, Let me go!”

“Not until we all talk.”

“Talk? What’s there to talk about? I didn’t do nothin’ so let me go!’

Both demons soon entered the dining room as the sixth-born sat his older on the couch facing all of them, holding him down by his shoulders so Mammon couldn’t escape despite how he squirmed and tried to wiggle his way out of Beel’s grasp.

“Mammon, stop struggling.” It was a request from eldest, a chance to cooperate. “We all have some words we’d like to say to you.”

Mammon froze at that statement. Here it came: all the ridicule and teasing. He wanted to run. He was the second strongest of them, maybe if he tried hard enough, he could shake his little brother off and get away. What good would that do him though? His brothers would just corner him later anyway so maybe it was just best to get it over with now.

He looked towards his brothers’ blurry figures, a million different thoughts rushing his head. He couldn’t tell their expressions from this distance but they had to be smiling, right- ready to laugh at him any minute now. His body tensed as he braced himself for the harsh sting of their words.

“Mammon, we’re sorry,” Asmo was the first to speak up after a short moment of silence, “We love you so much even though we suck at showing it.”

“You did so much for us after we fell,- you still do a lot for us even now,” the seventh-born picked his head up from the table,“And I don’t think we ever told you how much we all appreciate it…. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even think we would still be a family… don’t forget, you’re the one who kept us all in line when Lucifer would lock himself away in his office back then.”

“I know we act like you’re just a burden to us,” Satan started, “but I think all of us would agree that life would be so boring without you here.”

“Yeah, I-I mean who else would take the time to play games with me when I’m down in the dumps?” Levi asked.

“Or risk getting strung up from the chandelier to get me the food that I want from the human world?” Beel cut in.

“Or compliment me on my outfit or hair no matter what form I choose to take for the day. Or is always there to hype me up when I’m having a bad day? Hell, you even gave up the position of DevilStyle’s cover model just for me! Honestly I think you might be the best big brother out there.”

“We know about all the things you’ve done in secret for us- the things you don’t take credit for,” Lucifer smiled softly, “I’m proud to call you my brother for that. We love you and while you may make some poor life choices from time to time, our lives just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Mammon looks at them in a daze. Was this really happening? His brothers were…. Apologizing? To him of all people? This had to be a dream. There was no reality in which his brothers really cared about him. The second-born pinched the skin on his arm. That’s what you did to check if you were dreaming, right?

Harder, harder he pinched until the spot was sure to bruise. It wasn’t until Beelzebub placed his hand over his that Mammon realized he wasn’t dreaming. This was reality.

Tears welled in his eyes as he processed the words he just heard. One tear fell down his cheek soon followed by another then another until eventually the demon let out a sob.

“Th-This ain’t real! It ain’t!” The second-born yelled, his body shaking as he sobbed harder. “I’m still dreamin’. I-I gotta be! None of this is real…”

His brothers moved to embrace him- first the sixth-born, then the eldest and then the youngest. One by one, the rest of their brothers followed suit until the seven of them all somehow managed to end up on the floor in one giant cuddle pile, his face pressed into Lucifers as they allowed their brother to cry out all the tears he’d been bottling up for all these centuries.

It seemed they were going to be there a while- Good thing Lucifer had called Diavolo to tell him they wouldn’t be attending RAD today. That this was a more important matter to attend to.

“This stops today, Lucifer announced to his siblings once Mammon had stopped crying. “From today on, the six of us will make a conscious effort to change the ways we’ve talk to and treated you.”

“And if we get too out of hand, feel free to put us in our place,” Belphegor chuckled. “We can be blockheads from time to time.”

“The point is,” Asmodeus sighed as he hugged his brother a little tighter, “We all messed up big time. We just want to make you feel loved and appreciated again- like you’re an important part of this family.”

“We lost Lilith.” It was Beel’s turn to speak. “We’re not losing you too.”

Mammon smiled at his brothers’ words. Finally, he had thought, finally they were showing their true feelings to him after all these centuries.

“Thanks guys…..” the demon’s voice sounded cracked and strained from all the crying he had done earlier. “Even after everything that’s happened I wouldn’t trade y’all for the world. I love you guys.”

A chorus of ‘I love you too’s sounded from the group of demons as another family hug commenced. Eventually, as hours passed, one by one, they had all fallen asleep, each with a smile on their face and still huddled together.

Arella eventually found them in that state. With a soft smile she grabbed the blanket they often used for movie night and draped it over them heading back to her room so she wouldn’t disturb them.

———————————————————————-

Taglist: @gallantys

Masterlist 2

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

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

The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

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

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

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

Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

#indruck #meet ugly #indrid cold/ duck newton #taz amnesty #reader request

25 notes · View notes

suchalonelysunflower · 4 years

Text

You Broke Me First (C.H)

Pairing: former FWB!Calum X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Based on the song “You Broke Me First” by Tate McRae. You are trying to forget about the man who broke your heart, so it’s a surprise when his name appears on your phone again.

Warnings: Angst af. Language. Mild Smut. Mentions of Alcohol and cheating. Probably one or two grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 5K

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely @thebasicbitch-things ✨ I loved writing this piece, maybe because I love the song so much, so thank you for requesting it and I hope I made it justice 💕. Feedback, reblogs and comments are always welcome and appreciated it! You can read my other works HERE. Happy reading! 🦋

@thebasicbitch-things : Can you write a Calum imagine based off the song You Broke me first by Tate McRae?? Like I’m just in a weeping mood. Thank you xxx

Maybe you don't like talking too much about yourself

But you shoulda told me that you were thinkin' 'bout someone else

You're drunk at a party or maybe it's just that your car broke down

Your phone's been off for a couple months, so you're calling me now

The liquid burns your throat, but you don’t really feel it anymore. When the heat starts spreading around the rest of your body is when you know you need another one. And another one. And another one. Anything to keep him from your mind.

It’s ironic how the memory of him still lingers on, even more with every drink you drown. Well, it’s not so ironic as it is shitty. But it’s at times like this, when you’re at a random club in the middle of the night surrounded by strangers trying to create stories of their own while all you want to do is forget, that the only thing your mind can focus on is him.

A year ago:

“Babe?” You heard his voice as he exited the bathroom. Still shirtless and with his boxers on, hanging loosely “Are you okay?”

You sat down on the bed, your naked skin barely covered by the messy sheets “Mhmm” you mumbled, still zooned out in your own thoughts and worries as you saw Calum grab his shirt and jeans from the floor.

It was always the same. He would call or text, you would meet with any excuse, hang out for a while before moving to the bedroom. The same old story of friends who fuck each other, with the same old ending every night: you in your bed watching him get dressed and close the door on his way out.

“Do you really have to leave?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have to”

“No, you don’t have to”

“Y/N…”

You hated that condescending tone. Not only that, but you hated yourself, too. You and this whole messy situation you got yourself into. You didn’t know how bad of an idea it was to accept his proposal of friends with benefits when you already had feelings for him. But who could say no to Calum Hood? Especially with the hopes of becoming something more along the way.

At the beginning it was all you could dream of. The night seemed endless when he hold you close to him, breathing the same air as your bodies collided with each other, creating messes as you explored every inch of skin you had to offer, seeing stars explode with every right touch, hearing each other’s names like prayers coming from your parting lips. It was almost like you couldn’t get enough, almost.

“What? God, Calum, would it kill you to stay the night just once? Would it ruin your reputation of a heartthrob batchellor?”

“What has gotten into you?” He asked in confusion at your sudden outburst “You know the rules of this”

“Oh, the rules. Fuck them”

The rules were simple: Never overstaying, no exclusivity, don’t let others find out, never do anything public… but most importantly: Never fall in love. You had agree to that once, but most certainly broken almost every rule. You’ve fallen in love with him.

“Y/N…”

“It hurts, Calum” You said with glossy eyes “It hurts when you leave, and I- I can’t watch you do that anymore”

Calum’s eyes soften a bit. Debating whether or not he should stay. But after a pleading “Please” from your lips he caved in, laying down on the bed next to you, pulling you closer to him.

You smiled, allowing yourself to drift away in dreams and hopes of him laying next to you for the rest of your lives. Little did you know that those dreams were to be crushed next morning when you find an empty bed and a note with a little ‘sorry’ scribbled on it.

That was the first nights of many where he would lay down with you. Sometimes he would stay till morning and share a cup of coffee with you at breakfast. Other times he would disappear as a ghost in the middle of the night, only leaving the marks on your body as proof of his presence. It hurted, but at least you didn’t watch him walk away. You never watched as he did.

Took a while, was in denial when I first heard

That you moved on quicker than I could've ever, you know that hurt

Swear for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your name

But now that it's there, I don't really know what to say

You feel your friend’s grasp on your arm as they drag you down to the dance floor. Pulling you away from your own pity party as you watch how they sway to the beat of a song you’ve never heard of, soon joining them with the alcohol in your veins rushing towards your brain and taking control of your every move. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you tell yourself as you let the music take you away, already feeling the effects of the one too many shots you did earlier. But some things are easier said than done.

It’s funny, how after so many months of not seeing each other you can still feel him in your skin. You memorized the way his hands wrapped around your waist and the smell of his cologne. You could still feel his breath on your neck, the burning kisses he used to leave and the whispers that got lost inside a dream. Even now that you are dancing along to an ear shattering beat, the rhythm of your heart still beats and longs for him.

You can feel yourself in the dire need of another drink, desperate to push those memories away and cleanse yourself from his touch once and for all. You don’t care how many nights it would take, how many people or how many hangovers. You are determined to get that boy out of your system, where he won’t hurt you anymore.

“Y/N!” Your friend yells over the music, gesturing towards your hand “Your phone is glowing!”

You bring your phone to your face, trying to focus on the image that’s plastered across the screen. A name pops up, a name you haven’t seen in so long.

Muttering an “Oh fuck” you press ‘decline’ over and over again, until Calum stopped calling.

Seven months ago:

It’s been two weeks since you last heard from him. It’s been two weeks since he left you alone in a fuzz. It’s been two weeks since he slammed the door and he still hasn’t called.

Maybe he was right and you fucked everything up. But you were sure of your words, you know there’s truth to them, so you stan by them. He will soon realize his mistake, he has to. He wouldn’t leave you like that, would he? He must know he hurt you, he must. The words he said… they are like tattoos on your mind, they don’t seem to fade with time. But you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. You were as guilty as he was.

For the past two weeks you’ve been glued to your screen, hoping for his name to appear. Taping your screen randomly to see if you’ve gotten a text or a call or a dm or even a fucking email. But nothing ever came.

It wasn’t until you were scrolling down Twitter that you saw it.

It was a paparazzi photo, he was wearing a classic tee and the sweatpants you once told him were your favorite on him. His hair was longer, or at least it seemed like it, his eyes avoiding the cameras as he walked through the busy streets of LA as he normally would. The only difference is the hand that was holding his.

A lump formed in your throat as you opened the tweet to find a thread of even more pictures of him with the mysterious person, grabbing them by the waist and smiling as they came closer. The paparazzi seemed to catch every single intimate moment he was able to show in public, much more than he ever showed you when you were both out and sober, at least. But Calum seemed happy, and that hurt you the most.

A thousand questions ran through your head as you ignored the happy tweets from fans celebrating that his favorite band member finally got a significant other. How long has this been going on? Did he ever tell you about it? You never claim exclusivity, so it could’ve had happen when you were still ‘together’, meaning he choose them. He left you and chose them, replacing you and everything you didn’t get to have without even saying goodbye.

Swallowing the bitterness of the memory with a shot of tequila, you press decline once again and order another drink. What would you say to him anyway? Would you curse him? Would you kiss him? Would he even apologize or pretend that it never happened? The truth is, you don’t even want to know.

You catch some flirty eyes from across the bar, but you ignore them as you try to collect your thoughts on this whole situation, and besides, don’t need another heartbreak at the moment.

“That guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he came in” Said the bartender, pouring you another drink.

You lift your gaze towards ’pretty eyes’ over the bar, but he already seemed to have lost interest in you as his eyes scattered all over the room, looking for another person to spend his time with.

“Doesn’t seem like it” You nod toward the other end of the bar.

“What? No, not him. Him!”

They point behind you and you turn around quickly, a pretty bad idea considering how drunk you are at the moment. But wasted or not, you would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Calum is standing in the middle of a sea of people, but his eyes are solemnly focusing on you as he raises his phone to his ear, raising his eyebrows as he hears the dial tone. Almost immediately, your phone starts ringing next to you with the all too familiar name popping out again.

Without breaking eye contact, you press decline once again, standing up quickly as you start to walk up to the nearest exit, trying to get away from him as fast as you could. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you told yourself earlier that night, and yet there he was, pushing his way through a drunk crowd to get towards you.

“Y/N!” You hear him call, but you are not stopping. You don’t need this confrontation right now. You don’t want to see him or talk to him. You want to forget him and everything you ever did.

Feeling like your chest is going to explode at any second, you accelerated your pace, not caring how many people you have to push to get to the door as long as he doesn’t find you. Your legs, however, had other plans as they give out due to the mix dizziness and adrenaline you were feeling, just mere meters from the exit. You curse your past self for having so many drinks as you try to get up. But, soon enough, you feel an arm rounding around your waist and pulling you to your feet.

After almost eight months you find yourself reflected in those eyes again. The same eyes that made you feel butterflies in your stomach everytime he looked your way. You couldn’t help but get drawn into them, remembering that the last time you saw them they replaced the desire with anger, shaking you to your core.

He was saying something, you were sure of it because his mouth is moving “What?!”

“I said, Why aren’t you answering your phone?!” He yelled over the music. Your drunk mind can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him or cry right there on the spot.

“That’s none of your business! Now please let go of me, I want to go home”

You push yourself away from his grasp “Y/N, please I need to ta-“ He interrupted himself as he watched you almost trip over your own feet again, clearly too drunk to stand straight. In a matter of seconds, he was by your side again, this time pulling your arm over his shoulders so you could lay on him “Wha- How many drinks did you have?”

“As many as I needed” You scoffed, trying to pull away, but his grip on your waist was stronger.

“For what?! Drown yourself?”

“I needed to forget you” Calum clenches his jaw, feeling like his heart was shattered into a million pieces “But that’s clearly not working, given that you are here. Would you please let me go?”

“Y/N you are too drunk to function,”

“Am not!”

“Please, let me take you home. I need to talk to you”

“Leave me alone, Calum. I don’t need you and I most definitely don’t want to talk to you”

You turn your face to him. It has been a long time since you last saw him. He has more curls now, and a little five o’clock shadow, but his yes,,, oh, his eyes. The time stops, or at least it feels like it, it was almost like the first time you saw them, magnetic and filled with something you couldn’t decipher, but now they had something different. They were hurting, pleading, almost begging you for something you didn’t quite understand at the moment, but you know you couldn’t say no to those eyes, at least not here and not in your condition.

So after making sure you could stand properly, you caved “Fine”

I know you, you're like this

When shit don't go your way you needed me to fix it

And like me, I did

But I ran out of every reason

The car ride was as silent as a tomb. The sounds of the city night and the flashing of streetlights were your only source of distraction. You looked through the window, not wanting to make any eye contact with the man that broke your heart. He, however, was anxious for you to spare a glance towards him. Calum’s fingers taped the steering wheel nervously, he wanted to fill the silence with something, anything. But his words came short as he realized that you weren’t the person he knew, you were a stranger sitting in his car. The clothes you were wearing, the state of drunkenness you were in, the anger behind your eyes and words, and the fact that you couldn’t even stan him touching you… that was not the Y/N he knew.

Once you reached the house, you didn’t even wait for him to turn the car off as you practically jumped out of the seat and went to open the door. Calum quickly following you, half of him afraid that you might hurt yourself, the other half afraid that you would lock him out.

He let out a breath of relief as you let him in. Remembering the last time he was here.

Seven and a half months ago:

It was a normal afternoon for the two of you. Things were going well, Calum started to be more open towards you, spending the night, cuddling and hanging out more without the promise of sleeping together afterwards and you loved it. You were having fun as well, you would walk Duke together or cook dinner or just exist together by watching a movie or listening to his favorite songs that you “absolutely needed to hear” And today was no different as you cuddled with him watching one of Netflix’s crappy teenage movies. Things were going well, or so you thought.

You were straddling him, lips melting together as the movie was long forgotten. His hands were cupping your ass, setting a slow pace with your hips as you grinded on him. You whole body was on fire, ready to burst when his lips made their way down your neck, leaving marks that you would later trace with your fingers as you try to hide them.

“Calum,” You moaned softly as he found your sweet spot under your ear, sucking and biting it like only he knew how. Your hands flew to the back of his head, fingers lost in his hair, tugging it lightly every time he met your hips with a dry thrust.

He groaned, drunk to sounds you were making. He loved the effect he had on you, almost as much as the effect you had on him. It was addictive, dangerous. He knows he shouldn’t play with fire, but what a lovely way to burn it was.

You moaned again when you felt his teeth grazing your jaw, finding their way to your lips again. The rolling of your hips was faster, more desperate than before, the friction was almost unbearable. You needed him with a passion “C-Calum…”

“Tell me what you want, baby” He said with a raspy voice, breathing onto your neck “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you”

You shuddered at his words, getting dizzy with his touch, his soft groans and his eyes filled with lust, looking straight into your soul, burning like the sun.

You grabbed his head by the sides, pulling him closer until your foreheads pressed together “You” you whispered loud enough for him to hear “I want all of you, Calum”

A couple of hours passed and you were still laying on the sofa, cuddled against the naked chest of the bassist. His fingers were caressing your sides as both of your breathings became even, coming out of your highs.

You felt infinite in his arms, safe and wanted. You wanted this to last forever, to have him only for yourself and be his everything. You craved for more intimate looks, for innocent touches while in public, you wanted to show the world how in love you were with this man that has, not only conquered your heart, but also your soul. You loved him, and you hope with your whole heart that he loves you too.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, drawing circles down your arm.

You debated on whether to tell him the truth or not. You knew Calum had always denied himself the possibility of love, stating time and again that he doesn’t really believe in it. But you’ve seen a change in him for the last few months you were together. He was more caring, more attentive, staying longer than he should and being there for you when you needed, not only for a quick fuck anymore. Maybe the chances of him loving you back were not as low as you thought.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know?” You ventured, lifting your gaze to meet his. He gave you a quizzical look, not really sure of what you were referring to “I do want all of you, Calum”

He smiled “You have me now”

“Yeah,,, but that’s not what I meant”

Taking a brave step, you pushed yourself forward and kissed him. You were done hiding the feelings you’ve been accumulating over the years, ready to let yourself go and drown on him. Only him.

Calum, however, was taken by surprise. Pulling himself from you.

“I thought we agree on not to catch feelings for each other” He said coldly. Already sitting up and looking across the room for his clothes.

You sat and watched as he got up from his spot on the couch and started to dress as fast as he could.

“Cal-“

“We agreed, Y/N. We said no string attached. Goddammit, everything was going so well, but you had to fuck it up, didn’t you?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Shattering you completely from the inside. You tried to collect your thoughts as the tears threatened to come out, but Calum kept going.

“What the hell were you thinking? What were you expecting? Huh?”

“It’s not my fault that I love you” Your voice sounded broken, weak, and you hated that. How could he be so angry? What gave him the right when you were the one who was hurting?

“Well, it’s not mine either! Is it?” Calum said with exasperation, putting on his shirt.

“I thought-“

“What? That I loved you? Y/N, I don’t love anyone! You knew that when we started this!”

“And what am I to you then?!” You matched his tone of voice, tears were already spilling down your face but you didn’t care. You were fuming “What am I, Calum? A friend? A good fuck? Huh? Was I just a toy that you could play with every time you felt needy? Have you ever thought of me as something more?”

Calum’s stare was cold as ice. He was standing in the middle of the living room, clenching his fists to either side of his body until his knuckles became white. You, on the other hand, were sitting on the couch, crying. But your eyes burned with anger as you saw how carelessly he was invalidating your feelings, throwing everything away just because he couldn’t admit his own. A silent war was being fought between the two of you, both of you so scared but with nothing left to lose.

It seemed like ages had passed before Calum spoke again, grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door.

“Was there ever something more?”

You kept staring at the nothing he left behind, the last thing you heard was the slamming of your front door, leaving you alone and completely heartbroken.

Calum followed you into the kitchen, completely avoiding the living room where he last saw you, where he left you. He felt weirdly unwelcomed as you poured yourself a glass of water without even offering one to him, maybe he was.

You drink your water slowly, thinking that that will give you time to think on what to say to him. Maybe he would start talking soon, but the only thing he does is stare at you from the other side of the kitchen island. “How did you know where I was?” You asked.

“Your friend’s stories. You may have blocked me from yours, but they haven’t”

Then, silence came over you again. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say something, just like you always did. You played this game before, you are not going to cave. You are not going to give him the satisfaction of controlling the situation here.

“I need to talk to you” He finally said, letting his shoulders relax for a bit.

“You keep saying that. But you sure haven’t done a lot of talking”

The tension in the room was so thick that it could easily be cut by a knife. You always wondered what you would say to him, what would you feel the next time you saw him and, right now, you felt like there was nothing more to say. He had no right appearing into your life again, not when you were picking yourself together after he shattered you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“For what, exactly?” The venom in your voice was palpable, Calum knew this was not going to be easy for him “For leaving me here alone and then got yourself another person to play the ‘couple’ part? For practically calling me a whore? Or for giving me shit because of what I felt for you, knowing damn well you felt the same?”

You tilted your head, waiting for his answer, but it seems you left him speechless. Good.

Calum ran his hand through his curls, staring at the floor then back at you “I fucked up”

“That much is true”

“I’m serious, Y/N” He started walking towards you “I’m sorry for everything, you are right. You always are. I just- I didn’t know what to do! I panicked and-“

“And that’s your excuse of why you ran away instead of facing the problem?”

“I was scared! Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Calum raised his voice. He was now standing a couple of feet in front of you, so close and yet so far away from you “Y/N, I was so fucking scared. You know that I’ve never had a committed relationship before, that I never let things get too far but with you.. God, I never felt the same with anyone like that before not after you. And then you said all of those things and I- Hearing you say that you love me was too much, I couldn’t process it and instead of saying something coherent I just lashed out on you and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry”

Calum took a step forward, softly grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He took your silence as his cue to continue.

“You were always there for me, every time I needed you were there. No questions asked, no judging, not waiting for something in return. Always making me laugh, supporting me and letting me take a break from the messy life I have. You were the best thing in my life and I took you for granted. I hate that it has taken me this long to realize that, but I just miss you, Y/N. I miss us, so much that you can’t imagine how much it hurts. I need you with me, please let’s just go back to where we started. Or we can start over, whatever you want! But, please, baby, please don’t leave me”

And just before you know it, Calum cupped your cheek with his free hand and brought your face closer to him, crashing his lips into yours. You responded almost immediately by parting your lips and granting him more access, getting completely lost inside the kiss.

For a moment it felt like the old times, he tastes just like you remember and his touch stills makes your skin erupt with goosebumps. For years you’ve been waiting for this, for him to feel the same about you and love you without any fears or doubts, claiming that he was yours and you were his. You wanted this for so long… but why does it feel so bad?

Gathering all the courage you could manage, you push Calum away from you.

“S-stop!” You said, trembling “Stop, this isn’t right”

He gave you a confused look as he took a step back “Y/N-“

“What about your partner? Calum, did you at least break up with them before you came to find me?” The way he looked at the floor gave you all the answers you needed. You raised your hand to your forehead, suppressing the urge to cry or laugh at his antics “Oh my God”

“I was going to! I swear I just-“ He failed to find an excuse “Things were doing awful between us lately, Y/N. You have to understand, I-“

“What?!” You spat “that you had to make sure I was on board with all of this?! I am not a consolation prize, Calum. I am not a second choice!”

“Baby, I know. I-“

“Don’t call me that!”

Calum took another step back, he has never seen you so angry before.

“How dare you? How. Dare. You, Calum. Coming here after eight months! saying all that shit about how much I mean to you when it’s just bullshit”

“Y/N, it’s not-“

“I’m not fucking finish” You say raising a hand to silence him “Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve? I don’t get a single text or call or fucking smoke signal from you for eight months, knowing how I felt about you, and now suddenly you're asking for it back? Saying that you miss all that we had? We had nothing, Calum. We were nothing more than just a fuck around, you said it yourself, didn’t you? There was no ‘us’ for you to miss. You made damn sure of that. You don’t miss me, not really. You miss how I made you feel. How easy it was for me to be there for you every time you called, well, I’m tired of fixing all your problems, I ran out of every reason to do it.

And I was so stupid, you know? For believing just for a second that this could actually mean something when it never meant something to you in the first place! Did you even think about how I would feel about all of this? Of course not! Why would you? After all, I’m just Y/N! The one who always gets stepped on, why should my feelings matter? If I’m always going to be there for you and everything you ask for. Well, fuck that!”

“Y/N..” Calum tried to intervene, but you couldn’t hear him.

“You want to know what I did after you left? I cried myself to sleep for weeks, reliving every moment we had, every word you said just before you left. Waiting by the phone for hours just to see if you’d call. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I was the living incarnation of death because I realized I lived just for you. Well, not anymore. You said you were hurting, you have no idea what I went through so, I’m sorry, but I don't really care how bad it hurts. I’m done. We are done”

You walk by him and towards the front door, opening it as an invitation for him to leave. Calum, however, remained standing in your kitchen, staring at you with glossy eyes.

“Baby, please don’t do this” He said with a trembling voice “I don’t know what to do without you I’m- I’m broken”

You were still standing by the door. Unmoving and without an inch of sympathy for the man crying in front of you.

“You broke me first, Calum. But I’m all glued back together now, and I did it by myself. Hope one day you could learn to do that too”

And, for the first time in months, you saw him leave.

398 notes · View notes

astralaffairs · 3 years

Note

concept: first lady mc reads of fotp!tjeff’s speeches and edits them for all the things she thinks are stupid or unethical. and he’s like “sweetheart, my party isn’t ready for universal healthcare. i can’t be pissing people off within the first month of my presidency.” but she couldn’t give a fuck and continues marking up his speeches with a red pen all while insisting he gets a new speech writer.

y'all need 2 STOP hitting me w concepts i like this much i have 0 self control and WILL write every damn one of them. there are like 4 sitting in my inbox rn smh.

(by which i mean pls keep sending me concepts like this i love writing fotp drabbles)

---

"What're you still doin' up?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up as she looked up; a small, tired smile graced her lips as Thomas entered their bedroom, shaking his blazer off as the door fell shut behind him. "Hey. I'm glad you're back," she said softly. "I've just been tying up a few final loose ends with what I've been working on before I go to sleep."

"Can it wait until the morning?" he asked. He laid his blazer on the back of a chair at the side of the room before immediately starting to loosen his tie. "It's gettin' late. And I miss spendin' time with you. You work too much."

She scoffed, but her smile was only growing at his words. "Did you, the President of the United States, just tell me that I work too much?" He rolled his eyes as she spoke, just discarding his tie on the floor beside their bed. "That really is rich coming from you."

"Yeah, yeah, make fun all you want," he said, crossing the room to join her on their couch, "but you always overwork yourself, and you know it. You've been doin' it for as long as I've known you."

"Alright, I'll come to bed in a few minutes." He took a seat behind her, and when he rested his hand on her inner thigh, it sent shivers rippling across her skin. She looked up. "You go get some sleep. I'll finish this quickly. I promise."

"What're you workin' on, anyway?" She didn't protest when he withdrew the paper from her lap, glancing over it, and the corners of his lips quirked up. "Is this the address I'm givin' on Friday?"

"The very same."

"You shouldn't be losin' sleep over this," he said matter-of-factly, turning his head back toward her as he squeezed the top of her thigh lightly. "Either lose sleep spendin' time with your dear, sweet husband who's fucking sick of thinkin' about legislation, or just come to bed, hm?"

He passed her back the paper, instead looping an arm around her waist as he kicked his legs up onto their coffee table, and when he pulled her in to rest against his shoulder, she put up no protest.

"Just five more minutes. I promise." The barely-concealed yawn in her voice made Thomas look down at her skeptically.

"Alright, but I'm holdin' you to that. If you're still working in five minutes, I'll carry you to bed myself."

"No complaints here." She turned her head to kiss the corner of his mouth gently before she turned back to her paper, fidgeting with her red pen as she reached the last page of the document. Thomas's eyes had fallen shut; he was more than content to just sit there with her until she finished, as he had no desire whatsoever to think anymore about pushing his healthcare bill through Congress.

He opened his eyes when Y/N scoffed. Her pen ran down the page in a long slash, and she was pursing her lips as she jotted notes in the margins, but it made Thomas furrow his brow.

"Hey, now, what was so wrong with that paragraph?"

"Seriously?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow, glancing back at him. "You keep treating healthcare like it's some privilege that poor people should have to grovel at the feet of the rich to have access to. It can't be conditional like this."

"I'm not actin' like that," he defended. "I'm just sayin', hiking up taxes threefold isn't a sustainable way to fund this. It'd be an overreach from Congress. We've gotta use money efficiently."

"You fucking libertarian," she muttered. "The part of the bill about work requirements is gonna get killed in Congress. There's no way the House Democrats will vote to pass it unless you get rid of that."

"What's that got to do with my speech?"

"You're misrepresenting the legislation if you keep that paragraph," she said, proceeding to scribble out a sentence in the paragraph after. "And get rid of this. If you're trying to implement a public option, focusing on the private sector will get you nowhere. You're just gonna make people angry."

"I'm not 'misrepresenting' anything." He scowled. "Both those things are important for the bill."

"But this isn't a bill, Thomas; it's a speech," she huffed. "Anyway, the legislation needs to be universalized, or you can't 'mitigate poverty' how you claim to. Do you have any idea how many of the people who can't meet the work requirements on healthcare are going to end up in poverty because they can't afford the care they need?"

"I hear you," he started, "but this is the best way to make it more affordable without tankin' the economy."

"Have you even considered capital gains taxes?"

"That's gonna kill entrepreneurship."

"You're so full of it sometimes," Y/N scoffed. "'Entrepreneurs' won't be affected. It only affects, like, Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg, and they have so many assets that it literally doesn't matter."

"I'm not gonna sit here and argue with you about this. I'm not sayin' you're wrong, but I am sayin' this bill needs to be somethin' I can convince the Senate to pass," he said, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Then write a new bill that doesn't mean the people who are the worst off don't get coverage," she said, jotting that down on the side of the paper, "because this doesn't resolve the issue."

"I'll bring it up when I get the chance," he assured her, and she glanced back at him with a grateful smile. "Can I ask why this is so important to you?"

"Because I'm an empathetic person, and I care about people?" she replied, tone scathing, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Woah, there. That wasn't an attack, sweetheart," he said. "What's got you worked up?"

"I'm not 'worked up,'” she bit back, but when he gave her an apologetic look, gaze soft, her annoyance began to subside. “This is just a sore subject for me." Y/N finally lowered the paper in her lap, turning her head toward Thomas. "I know I've told you about how long my parents spent in the hospital before they passed."

"Yeah. Yeah, you have," he said softly. He turned, orienting himself in Y/N's direction so he could pull her into his lap, and while she sighed, she laid back against his chest.

"When they died, I was left with most of their healthcare debt," she continued. "I was living far below the poverty line for almost a decade because of it."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and she laced her fingers into his with his arms around her waist.

"It was a long time ago," she replied. "I just don't want anyone else to end up in anything like the situation I was in. Nobody deserves that."

"No, they don't. I'll see what I can get past Congress." He kissed the side of her neck, and she hummed contentedly, squeezing his hands. "But I've still gotta discuss my plan for healthcare on Friday, so stop demolishing my speech."

"You asked me to look over it," she said frankly, and though her eyes had fallen shut when she laid against him, she cracked one open to glance at him skeptically. "These are my edits. Change the bill."

"That's an awful weighty edit, sweetheart."

"Hey, I also improved your phrasing," she went on, holding his paper up where they could both see it. "I'm making your speech better, don't complain about it."

"You cut my section about deductibles?"

"No one wants to talk about deductibles, babe." She tapped the paper with the back of her pen. "They want to know whether they'll be insured or not. They won't listen to the nuances of your bill in your public address. You're going to need a press release for that."

"And the part about family values?"

"It was useless." She shrugged. "I know you're just pandering to your party and all, but it sounded stupid in the context of the speech."

"Harsh," Thomas said, and the offense in his voice was mostly dramatized. Y/N pursed her lips. "But I can't be breachin' party lines in this speech. I'm not gonna get anything done if I turn the Senate Republicans against me."

"Listen, I'm not a political strategist, so that's your prerogative," she said matter-of-factly. "But if you don't like my feedback on your speeches, then hire a damn speechwriter, Thomas."

He hummed reluctantly. "But havin' you review my speeches gives me an excuse to spend more time with you. I don't have a whole lotta interest in having even longer meetings with White House staffers."

"Then take my edits to heart." She pursed her lips. "You know very well that I'm the only reason you have bipartisan support. If I didn't pick fights with you once a week about green energy, all the Democrats would still oppose all your stances on it."

"I'll look back over the speech in the mornin', then," he decided, and she shifted on the couch to face him, legs still draped over his lap. "I trust you."

"Good," she replied, and she looped her arms around his neck as she pulled herself up to kiss him. "But stop exploiting my degree in journalism."

"I'm not exploitin' it."

"Then what do you consider asking your wife to edit your speeches pro-bono to be?"

"A nice li'l side effect of managin' to convince someone so smart to marry me." She laughed as he pulled her back in to kiss him, but she gasped when he bit her lip teasingly, and his mouth drifted down her neck. "I love you," he murmured against her skin.

"I love you, too."

With that, Thomas hooked his arm up under her legs, and his smile widened against her neck when she yelped as he picked her up. "Now, I seem to remember sayin' something about carryin' you to bed if you were workin' for more than five minutes, so you don't get to negotiate anymore."

She squirmed in his grasp, but any of her efforts to get out of his arms weren't in earnest. She huffed. "So much for respecting personal liberty. Just wait until your voting bloc finds out all that rhetoric was just a lie."

"Oh, hush, let's not pretend you mind," he said as he tossed her down onto their bed, and she bounced when her back hit the mattress. He didn't hesitate to climb on after her. Though she tried to pull herself up to rest on the throw pillows, Thomas was on his hands and knees above her; she didn't have much of a range of movement when he dipped down to kiss her. "If you did, you wouldn't have married me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jefferson," she grumbled, despite wrapping her arms around his neck. "Talk all you want, but I dunno how smug you're gonna be when I up and leave you one of these days."

He grinned. "You know I don't buy that for a second." She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward when he kissed her forehead. "You love me too much."

Despite everything, Y/N could feel herself flush. "Just go put on some pajamas so we can go to sleep."

"Alright, if you insist," he huffed, rolling off of her. "Be right back."

"You'd better hurry, or I might run off with Dolley and elope," she called after him, and Thomas laughed.

"'S cute, but we both know you aren't goin' anywhere."

"And why not?"

He raised a confident brow. "I'll tie you down if that's what it takes to keep you here, sweetheart."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she mumbled, turning to discard the throw pillows from the bed onto the floor.

When she looked back at him, his grin was still wide, smug, but the look in his eyes was soft. She pursed her lips as her own smile broadened. "Now go change. I'm not going to sleep without you."

"Fine. You need some rest.”

“Yeah. So do you.”

157 notes · View notes

jalapeno-princess · 3 years

Text

You Weren’t Mine to Lose

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 9.4K

Genre: Angst

Warning: Mentions of sex, cheating

Summary: You made the mistake of falling in love with someone who was never yours to begin with. What started off as a one night stand turned in to months of sneaking around with each other and devoting most of your time and energy to a man who was already in a relationship. However, the high you get from fooling around with Mark is the only thing that’s been keeping you from going completely insane. But what happens when lust turns to love?

A/N: Hey guys, so I have good news and bad news. Let’s start with the bad news, I had to get a second job (On top of my teaching job and being a full time college student) so this means I won’t be able to write as much as I normally do (I haven’t even started on my new series just yet and I’m sorry for those who are anticipating it I have no clue when I will actually get around to writing it) but the good news is I have two stories prepared to post within the next few weeks so there’s that to look forward to. I hope you’re all doing well, especially after the news of Yugyeom signing with another company but honestly, I am so happy for him. If all seven of them end up leaving the company entirely, good for them. They deserve so much better than the shit excuse of a company JYPE is and I support each and every single member in all of their endeavors and plans for the future. With that being said, happy reading. (Based on August by Taylor Swift).

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mineYour back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no

“Fuck—go faster, please—M—Mark, I need you to go faster—sh—shit shit, just like that.”

Mark Tuan, ever the gentleman did as he was told. However, he would do anything you asked of him during moments like this, God knows he wanted it too. His cock felt so wonderful grazing against your tight, sopping walls. His hardened tip continuously hit the back of your cervix, kissing it with each and every thrust.

The two of you were going at it for almost an hour now; both of you reached your highs after giving each other mind blowing head—but you had yet to come together. You edged him three times, riding him until his cum reached the tip of his cock only to lift yourself off of him, earning you a scowl and the sexiest grunts of frustration.

He left multiple slap marks on your ass; letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you have all power against him. No matter how much fun he’d have whenever you did dominate him and take over the sex session, he wasn’t letting you have all the fun tonight. There was sweat dripping down both your bodies—his entire body was warm with fervor as he continued to leave multiple hickeys along the valley of your breasts.

His breath was hot against your neck as he tried his best to conceal his moans; it was surprising, his room had no echo whatsoever—yet, the many sinful noises falling from his mouth and yours bounced off the walls along with the sound of skin on skin slapping against each other. His thrusts were relentless as he picked up his pace; pumping in to you as if he was trying to punish you for being naughty. His pelvis ramming against your bare cheeks made a loud crack sound each time he pulled out and shoved himself back inside of you.

It was addicting; feeling him bury himself balls deep inside of your pussy, but you were well aware that the sensation had an even bigger effect on him than it did you. Doggy style was Mark’s favorite position right next to watching you bounce up and down on him as your breasts jiggled all but gently. Something about being able to see his cock sliding so easily in to your tight walls drove the older boy fucking crazy.

“Fuck y/n—so fucking tight as always baby. Tell me how it feels—I want to know that I’m driving you insane—“

“Feels—so good Mark—so, so good.”

He hummed contently against the crook of your neck while picking up his pace if it was even possible. At this point, he was practically drilling himself inside of you; it came as a shock that you both still had yet to cum. On other occasions, you and Mark had no problem with reaching your highs with just your hands and mouths alone. Penetration was your favorite part of sex, so you had a feeling your body wanted to indulge in having Mark’s cock inside of your pussy for as long as you could have him for.

“You feel so amazing y/n, I could fuck you for hours. I will never get tired of having your cunt wrapped around my dick. Please—tell me you’re close. I’m about to lose my damn mind here pretty soon.” You giggled softly against his chest; nodding in agreement while placing a few wet kisses near the sensitive spot right below his ear.

“I’m close, so close—“

He bit softly against your collarbone, trying to hide the fact that he was seconds away from losing his will to do anything. You were just that mind blowing. Unfortunately, right as you were about to let the wave of lust consume your entire body like a wildfire, there was a new sound that filled the room. The piercing ring of a cellphone broke you out of your Mark induced haze. T

his wasn’t the first time his phone went off while the two of you were busy loving up on each other’s bodies; there were multiple situations where Mark had to cuss out his friends because they always seemed to try and get in touch with him at all the wrong times. There was even one night where he threw his phone at the wall because it wouldn’t stop ringing. When you felt Mark tense up at the blaring noise, you had a huge feeling you knew exactly who was on the other line. He looked up at you and released an exasperated sigh before doing the unthinkable. You wanted him to ignore it, just like he did almost every single time, but he tapped gently on your thigh; as if he was nonverbally asking for you to put your late night romp on pause.

“Mark, are you fucking serious—“

“It’ll just be a minute, tops. I promise. No funny business, please.”

To your dismay, he reached for his phone and answered the call. It was tempting—the idea of palming his naked sex, fondling his balls or even grinding your wet folds against his thigh—you knew you would get some kind of reaction out of him. Mark was a very sensitive person; physically and mentally. It didn’t take much for him to cry; emotionally and sexually.

He cried in front of you more times than you could count on your fingers. Whether it was because of a sad movie, when school could get a little too much for him to handle or the time he got the news that his grandfather was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer, he didn’t hesitate to pour out his feelings in front of you. You felt special knowing that you were one of the very few people who’d get to see that side of Mark; his soft, gentle, fragile side. Not the confident, overbearing and egotistical asshole he’d portray himself out to be on campus.

During the times you would find yourself on your knees, milking him dry of his white, creamy liquid and making sure his legs would wobble by the end of the night, he’d always cry out in pleasure while begging you to do something—anything to help soothe the pleasurable soreness you caused to his lower body. You knew you’d be treading in rough waters if you did tease him in any way while he was on the phone with her, but you were coming to the point where you didn’t even care if she were to find out anymore.

“Hello? Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?”

You laughed sarcastically in disbelief—what was so important that couldn’t wait a few more minutes? Something had to be wrong with Mark—who in their right mind would put a halt on fulfilling their carnal urges just to answer the damn phone? You rolled your eyes in irritation—it’s because she was the one trying to get in touch with him. His girlfriend of a year and a half, Aubrey.

You never understood why Mark continued to fool around with you when he had a girlfriend. What started off as a one night stand at a house party one of his friends threw a little over five months ago turned in to a dangerous affair between the two of you. For the longest time, you knew nothing of the girl in question; Mark was really good at hiding her existence.

He never told you that he was in a relationship, you didn’t see her at any party or gathering nor did you get a chance to see her around school. But that was because she was his girlfriend from back home. He only saw her during breaks or if she flew up to see him, but for most of their relationship—they were long distance. That was the only plausible reason you believed he allowed this relationship or whatever it was between the two of you to continue.

One day, you were playing games on Mark’s phone when she sent him a message, asking him what he was doing. At first, you just assumed it was a friend of his or maybe even a classmate, but then, she told him that she missed him and told him to call her when he had the chance. You confronted him in anger; sure, you found it completely weird that he continued to see you—especially for more than just sex. The two of you couldn’t even be considered fuck buddies—no, not when you’d go to sleep wrapped tightly in his warm embrace only to wake up in the morning to his signature gummy smile and stinky morning breath.

You’d go on cute little dates—or what you assumed were dates. He’d hold your hand and compliment you on your beauty and whatever outfit you put together that day. He’d call you if he couldn’t sleep, he’d pick you up from and drop you off to school, he’d cook you food if he noticed that you were tired and he even made a playlist of songs that reminded him of you; albeit, most of them were meant for when the two of you would stumble in to bed together, but it also contained songs that were more heartfelt and romantic.

You had a hard time understanding why you were letting him continue to use you. You hated cheaters with a passion; you’ve seen homewreckers ruin multiple marriages within your family and the idea of someone in a relationship fooling around with another person made your skin crawl—yet here you were, fucking with another girl’s boyfriend. You went against all your beliefs and every single rule you were taught to follow just for the devastatingly handsome and sweet talking man sitting right in front of you.

Honestly, you felt bad for his girlfriend. It was obvious that Mark meant a lot to her. She would constantly text him and send him pictures of what she’d be eating or if she went somewhere the two of them used to frequent. You felt horrible; Aubrey seemed like such a sweet girl and she was completely oblivious to the fact that there was someone else involved in Mark’s life. There were so many times you wanted to call it quits with Mark, you couldn’t keep fooling around with him considering the fact that he had someone at home who loved him—almost as much as you did.

When you first found out that you weren’t the only one, you should have told him it was over. You should have told him that you weren’t the kind of person who was fine with committing adultery nor did you want to be the other woman—you were a firm believer in monogamous relationships but you didn’t have the strength to tell him no when he began to leave wet, sloppy kisses all along your jaw. You were in deep and you despised the fact that you were so hooked on to him. Mark was everything you could ever want in a significant other; not only was he the most attractive man you have ever laid your eyes on, but he was soft-spoken and gentle towards you.

At school, he was a cocky prick; his group of friends were some of the most popular guys at your university. It seemed as though every student either wanted to be them, be friends with them or to be with them. But when the two of you were alone, his demeanor would take a 360 degree turn. Sometimes, you’d find it hard to believe that he had two personalities; one meant for his friends and everyone he associated himself with and another one meant for you and only you. It got you thinking though, how did he act when he was with Aubrey?

Did he treat her the way he did you? Was he protective over her? Could she make him laugh the way you seemingly never failed to? Did he get flustered by a single smile or graze of her fingers against his arm? Was he constantly checking up on her to see how her day was going? He hardly ever talked to her when the two of you were together and seeing as how most of your free time was spent with him, you wondered when he had the chance to call her.

There were only two instances where he answered her phone call when you were hanging out together. He always gave you an apologetic frown while taking the call and it was when you heard him tell her that he loved her that you knew, you were in love with him. It felt like a painful jab to the chest—for months, you’ve been lying to yourself.

I don’t love him, I just love who I am when I’m with him. I love how he takes such good care of me and how he fucks me so well.

You’d repeat those words to yourself every single time that you’d get to see him. With every kiss he’d steal from the corner of your mouth or every smile and look of adoration he’d send your way, you began to feel something deep in your chest. Whenever he’d drop you home, you always felt so empty—like a piece of you went with him back to his place.

Mark Tuan owned your heart; there was no doubt about it. You’ve been with quite a few guys in the last three years of college but none of them could ever make you feel as over the moon or as elated the way Mark so easily did. He made you so happy; your heart rate would increase rapidly just by the mere sight of him. His laughter—his high pitched, contagious laugh always seemed to send fire through your veins. For months, you tried to accept the fact that all you would ever be to Mark was a place to put his cock while he was away from his actual significant other.

Maybe, he was only kind, affectionate and generous towards you because it was the only way to get you to stay by his side. If it were anyone else in your shoes, they probably would have given up on him once it was revealed that he was already in a relationship.

How did he not feel even the smallest ounce of guilt rearranging your guts; pressing you up against his balcony and fucking you in to the next week knowing that his girlfriend was waiting patiently for him to graduate so they could finally be together? And how could he not feel remorse considering the fact that he brought you in to this mess? He was selfish; that you felt wholeheartedly was true. If he cared about you or Aubrey, he would have either broken up with her as soon as the two of you found yourselves falling in to bed together the first time, or he would have never even cheated on her in the first place. How could he continue this facade? How was he fine with playing not just his girlfriend, but you too? He probably didn’t think you held any romantic feelings for him and God—if only that was the truth.

If you had the choice, you would go back to the beginning of your arrangement and made it your mission to have never fell in love with him. You would have made yourself immune to his endless flirting, you wouldn’t let yourself kiss him other than when you would have sex, you would have made sure that what went on with you and him was strictly physical. No feelings—No emotions—nothing. It was only natural for you to have felt something for him. If you knew back then what you currently know now, you would have never allowed him in to your life—in to your heart.

You would have never let him tear down the walls you’ve built so high in attempts to keep people out. You would have never allowed him to take up your entire mind—you wouldn’t have given him your body if he wasn’t willing to take all of you. Who were you kidding? There was no regretting Mark Tuan. Even if you were given the chance to go back to the past, you wouldn’t change a thing. Mark Tuan was your person, whether you wanted to accept it or not. He was the rightful owner of your heart, even if you didn’t own his. You couldn’t really hear what she was saying over the phone, but Mark’s brows began to furrow; as if something bad happened.

Since he was distracted, you took this time to pull away from him—retracting his cock from your now dry folds. Tears were brimming at your eyelids and you would rather die than give him a reason to inflate his ego. He’d have a field day if he found out that you were in love with him; that was the last thing you needed—the last thing he deserved. You would always come second to Audrey. He might have currently been in bed with you; his limbs tangled with yours—running his hands through your hair, tracing the outline of your features feather lightly, kissing every corner of your face, but at the end of the day, Aubrey had the rightful title of his girlfriend. Not you. Nor would it ever be you, even if they did break up one day.

If Mark saw you as someone with more than just a casual fuck to him, then he would have solidified your relationship months ago. If he harbored any sort of feelings for you, he’d feel wrong telling another girl that he loved her. Did he though? Did he love her? If he genuinely loved her or at least cared for her—especially because they were in a relationship together, he would never have cheated on her.

When you love someone, you never want to put them in any kind of situation that would hurt them and you most definitely wouldn’t feel right giving yourself—your time, love, effort and energy to anyone else but that person. As soon as he saw you getting up from off the bed, he asked Aubrey to wait a minute and gave her the excuse that someone rung on his doorbell. You had to force yourself not to say or do anything that would get him in trouble with his girlfriend.

“What are you doing? I said I’d be hanging up with her soon I’m literally about to end the call—“

“Don’t bother—I’m no longer in the mood anymore so you go finish up with her while I finish myself off.”

You picked up your clothes from where they were thrown on the ground and headed over to the bathroom; locking the door before he could try and stop you or get you to change your mind. In the corner of your eye, you could see him attempt to follow you, but he must’ve stopped altogether once you shut the door.

A choked up sob fell from your lips and you tried so hard to prevent any tears from falling, but it was inevitable. Why did you let this go on for so long? Mark was breaking your heart more and more as the days went on and you were the pathetic fool who continued to allow him in doing so. You were wrapped around his finger and there was nothing you could do about it. As soon as you put on all your clothes, you rinsed your face free of any tears and took a deep breath before returning outside.

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment. You needed some time to think out this entire arrangement. The idea of losing Mark—no longer having him in your life, no longer being able to kiss his pretty lips, to be held in his protective embrace, to hear him whisper sweet nothings while he passionately made love to you, it broke your heart. It was as if he had somewhat of a Stockholm syndrome hold on you. He was ruining you mentally; he was holding you captive and you weren’t able to leave him—nor did you willingly want to. At this point, you were fine with Mark taking advantage of your patience. All you wanted was him; in anyway you could have him.

Once you felt like you gave yourself enough time to breathe and recollect your thoughts, you hesitantly made your way back in to his room and you were secretly hoping he’d still be occupied with Aubrey so you didn’t have to worry about him stopping you and questioning what just happened. If this were to happen in the beginning of your affair, you wouldn’t have let it got to you and you were sure you’d continue from where the two of you left off from; but now that there were feelings involved—specifically your feelings, there was no way you could pretend that nothing was wrong. That—you were fine with being a side chick who would drop anything and everything just to be at his beck and call. You were sure you’d spill everything; knowing the kind of person you were, you would probably tell him how and when your feelings of lust turned in to love and how you respected yourself a lot more now to continue staying with someone who technically belonged to another woman.

He might not have seen her in a long while, but he continued to act like everything was fine between them. Not once has he ever told you exactly what she meant to him—she hardly ever came up in conversation. It’s as if he never wanted to bring her up and you understood that it was because Mark was well aware that as someone who was sleeping around with him, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about his girlfriend. To your dismay, he was no longer on the phone and he was sitting at the edge of the bed—still naked and waiting for you to come out.

Right as his gaze landed on you, he leaped up from off the bed and made a beeline toward you. He tried to reach out to you, but you shook your head—you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You were exhausted; he continued to take, take, take from you and although he was very generous in bed, he didn’t give the same amount of devotion in a romantic aspect. He didn’t fulfill your heart’s desires like he did with your lustful ones.

“Where are you going baby—“

“Don’t. Don’t give me that baby shit Mark, you just got off the phone with your girlfriend for heaven’s sakes. I think it would be best for the both of us if I were to leave before I say or do something I will regret.”

“Wait—what are you even saying? What happened y/n? Why do you sound so upset? You knew exactly what you were signing up for as soon as we hooked up—“

You let out a scoff of disbelief. Was he being real right now? It was too late, you were going to let everything out tonight. If he ended up not reciprocating your feelings, then there was nothing you could do. These last six months opened your eyes to the reality that you were never going to mean as much to Mark the way he did to you. You could try anything; you could fuck him as much as both your time and energy permitted you to. You could do whatever it was he asked of you, but it would never be enough. You would never be enough.

There was something Aubrey had that you didn’t; you couldn’t quite put your finger on it—it couldn’t have been because they have a longer history. Maybe he felt obligated to continue staying with her. Although you knew Mark like the back of your hand—you knew practically every little thing about him, there had to be some information that he left you in the dark about. Maybe their parents were friends and he just wanted to please the both of them by staying with her or maybe he genuinely liked her, but he had his desires that needed to be fulfilled and he was going to use you until they could finally be together again.

“I didn’t know anything you asshole! You kept Aubrey a secret from me for an entire fucking month. I shouldn’t have told you I was okay with continuing whatever it is that’s going on between you and I. It’s not fucking fair Mark, to her or to me. We were fucking when your girlfriend called! Does it not bother you in the least way that you’re playing the both of us? Do you not sit back and think that what you’re doing is wrong? Yes, I’m sleeping around with a man in a relationship, but you’re the one allowing it! You’re just as at fault here, so don’t try to make it seem like you’re not doing anything wrong! Admit it, you get off on some kind of high knowing that you have the ability to manipulate two different women. One who you call your girlfriend and one who you call when you need to get your dick wet. I don’t know who you think you are Mark, but I’m tired of being your puppet. I’m tired of giving you the ability to break me—to do whatever you want with me. I let it go all these months; I know it was wrong and I feel like such a bitch for getting involved with you knowing you have a girlfriend. I made a vow to myself never to do such a thing but look Mark—I’m a fucking mistress! I can’t blame you completely because I’m still here, but I need you to know that I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. With this—with you. Have a nice life, I no longer want to be apart of it.”

You quickly grabbed your bag from his bedside table and stormed out of his room—if he were to come after you and attempt to sweet talk you in to staying; at his apartment and in his life, you would’ve gave in to him and that powerful speech you just poured your heart in to would have all been for nothing. As much as you wanted to rid him from your thoughts entirely and say that you felt as though a huge weight has been lifted from off your shoulders, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt when you realized he wasn’t chasing after you. But then again, this was what you wanted—your heart could no longer handle the fact that he didn’t care for you or love you the way you practically gave him your entire being.

You would have done anything for the older boy—you were well aware of that and so was he; but allowing him to play with your emotions all the while leading you on was something you refused to let continue. From the time you were a little girl, you were extremely insecure about every single little feature on your body; your bushy eyebrows, your chubby cheeks, your sharp nose that you believed was too big, your crooked teeth and short neck. You also didn’t like the fact that you were only 5”2—you felt like people didn’t take you seriously because you were so tiny. However, over the course of your arrangement with Mark, you didn’t know how you did it—but you fell in love with everything you believed you hated about yourself.

Unfortunately, you knew Mark had a lot to do with it. He praised your body on a daily basis, like it was his duty to tell you how breathtakingly beautiful you were and how your body was handcrafted by Leonardo DaVinci himself. During your sexual activities; whether it was when he’d find himself with his face buried in your cunt, or if he had you pressed up against the counter, he never failed to compliment you on how soft your skin was, how insane your curves were and how he truly believed you were God’s favorite with how amazing your body was.

Only then did it hit you—Mark only ever seemed to compliment you when his dick was deep inside of you or right after the two of you reached euphoria together. You had to accept it—you were just a fuck buddy, a play thing—someone to help him relieve stress and find pleasure through. When you reached your car, you sat in it and cried for a few moments; allowing everything to come out.

It was hysterical; less than an hour ago, you were crying out of frustration because he kept fucking you with his fingers but refused to fill you with his length until you begged him to do so. Now, your sobs were filling up your entire vehicle all because you couldn’t let your affair to continue anymore. Everything seemed to be getting out of hand. You put so much effort in to something so pathetic all for a boy who couldn’t give less of a shit about you—a stupid, egotistical, manipulative, selfish asshole. You wanted to wait until you were completely calm and free of any more tears before you began to drive back to your apartment.

Did all of that really just happen? What were you going to do now? There was no way you could just pretend like he was nothing to you. Six months of memories; kissing him in bathrooms that was hardly ever used at your university, singing along to Disney movies, helping each other with homework, attempting to cook meals that either of you saw on food network and ultimately failing, driving to another state on a whim just because you needed a break from life—every single beautiful moment spent with him was forever etched in to the back of your mind.

Mark Tuan was the rightful owner of your heart; he was the reason why it would flutter and rapidly beat as much as it would sink and tear apart by the smallest mistake or argument. You continuously repeated to yourself that this was what you needed—you needed to let him go sooner or later or else he would end up breaking you completely; until you were a shell of nothing.

Two weeks went by since that night and you could honestly say they were the worst two weeks of your entire life. You weren’t even exaggerating—you were miserable beyond belief. Mark hasn’t tried to get in contact with you at all since you stormed out of his apartment and with every swig you took of whatever alcohol beverage you drank in order to take your mind off of the man in question, you attempted to coerce yourself in believing that this is what you wanted.

This is what was best for you. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell though; sure, you told him that you were done with him and you no longer wanted to have anything to do with him, but he gave up so easily. It felt like a slap in the face by reality that your biggest worries were true—he had no legitimate feelings for you; just lust. He could get anyone he wanted to take your place; you were just another useless body. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were to find out that he told his friends about you and what the two of you have been doing for the last few months.

His group of friends were notorious for having a group chat that they would brag about all of their hookups. You were so tempted to reach out to him and the multiple amounts of alcohol you’d consume would only make you crave his presence a lot more. Some days were better than others and by better, you didn’t cry as much and you actually would get some sleep. Why did you allow this to happen?

Anyone who knew anything about friends with benefit relationship were well aware that it could never be just sex. Things always got messy; one person fell in love while the other didn’t reciprocate the same feelings. In this case, you were the poor unfortunate soul who got the short end of the stick—you fell in love knowing that your feelings would never be reciprocated. It was heartbreaking; the first time you ever loved someone—it just so happened to be a person that was never yours in the first place. Once you were to move on from Mark completely, you were afraid that you would never be able to love anyone else.

This entire arrangement ruined your outlook on love permanently. You had to force yourself not to try and reach out to him—there was a point where you even hid your phone because you were afraid you’d give in and call him. He obviously didn’t care—losing you wasn’t a loss to him at all. Not if you never meant anything to him in the first place. Your friends tried to reach out to you multiple times throughout your emotional episode; it wasn’t like you drop off the face of the earth without an explanation. But nobody knew about you and Mark—nor would anyone understand what you were doing with him.

You were still in your early twenties, but you weren’t too young to realize that having an affair was wrong. You’ve known that even when you were a little girl—if your friends or even your family were to find out the mess that you’ve gotten yourself in to, they’d be so disappointed. Every time your phone went off, you held on to a tiny string of hope that it would be Mark trying to get in contact with you. It was too much of you to hope that maybe, just maybe he came to the conclusion that he missed you, that he was nothing without you and that he accepted the thought of loving you. However, it was always your close friends trying to get you to go out with them.

As much as you felt like you should say yes to them and allow yourself to move on by joining in on activities to keep you preoccupied, you didn’t have the strength, energy or desire to do anything at all. At the three week point, you came to accept that Mark wasn’t coming back. He was done with you, and there was nothing you could do about it. When you returned back to school, your friends were on your case—pointing out the fact that you looked like literal death. Claiming that you’ve lost at least ten pounds since the last time they saw you and that your cheekbones were more prominent.

They also stated that you looked as though you haven’t slept in days—your eye bags were dark and your eyes were puffier than usual. Like you had done with everyone else in your life; you lied and gave them the excuse that you had some kind of bug and that your doctor told you that it would be best for you to stay bedridden. Thankfully, they bought it—you didn’t need the constant reminder of why you were acting like someone died.

“Hey, I know you don’t care about anyone from Jinyoung’s group of friends, but did you happen to see Mark’s girlfriend yet? She’s here for spring break. She’s so pretty; I don’t understand why she would want to come to a university on her vacation, but maybe she just wants to spend time with her boyfriend no matter what it is that they do. They’re so cute together.”

Everything your best friend was telling you about Mark and Aubrey felt like a punch to the gut. Every single word twisted your heart and you began to grow lightheaded. So that’s why he didn’t come after you that night; maybe she told him she was coming to visit him. He didn’t need you anymore—he’d have someone, his someone in particular to give him his fill. He might have been cheating on her, but you didn’t think he’d be the type to sleep with two different girls at the same time—then again, it would probably raise his confidence levels in such an obnoxious way.

If only your friend knew how much her words were taking over your mind—how much they were ruining you and slowly tearing you apart. You wanted to cry—you felt like screaming to get her to stop. She had no idea about your relationship with Mark, so it wasn’t as though she was trying to make you feel bad. Even if she did know, she wouldn’t do anything to hurt your feelings—although, she would have been upset to hear about your poor choices.

“I—uh—no. I’ve only been here for about ten minutes so—I wouldn’t know. Cool. I should get going. I’ve already missed out on so much—I’ll call you later.”

You wasted no time briskly heading to your first class. Honestly, you didn’t even want to go anymore. Coming to school was a mistake—what was another day of missing class? You’ve been doing your work online; there was really no reason to be there other than for attendance purposes. You didn’t feel like you learned anything anyway, so there was really no point at all. You mentally cursed yourself at your negative thoughts—this was all Mark’s fault. Before him, you genuinely enjoyed school.

Your education meant everything to you. Whenever you were assigned homework—you completed it before your next day of class. Some of your professors complimented your on your work ethic and your English professor even asked you to become their TA because you were always so on top of things. Now, you couldn’t wait for school to be over with and you didn’t even care whether or not you passed any of your classes this semester.

Nothing mattered to you anymore and it was so disheartening that you allowed a stupid asshole to have this effect on you. To flip your world upside down and make you hate everything that used to bring you so much joy and contentment. You were busy trying to avoid people in the hallway and you couldn’t care less about whether or not you ended up bumping in to someone. Today was just not your day and if people were smart, they’d stay far away from you.

Your phone began to ring, and when you saw that one of your other friends were trying to get in touch with you, you were debating on answering. Human interaction wasn’t something you wanted to put up with for the rest of your time on campus. Everything was all too much for you to take in. The idea of Mark—introducing Aubrey to everyone as his girlfriend, the risk of seeing them together—kissing, holding hands, hugging, acting sweet to one another, it was messing with your head.

Heard you’re back, if you’re free right now, did you want to get some coffee?

The word no was at the tip of your tongue—you were afraid that you’d give yourself away if you showed any sort of emotion that proved you weren’t sick at all. However, you loved coffee and you were sure it would be the only kind of positivity you’d be able to have at all today so you were going to take what you could get.

It didn’t take too long for you to reach the coffee shop—there were three spread throughout campus, so you made your way over to where your friend said to meet them. You put in your headphones and blasted your playlist of sad songs—most people would try to steer clear of melancholic music while they were going through such a difficult time but it actually brought you peace. Some weird, twisted kind of peace but nonetheless, it helped you cope with the pain that Mark’s sudden absence left on you. The smell of coffee was soon ridding you of your anxiety and you were quick to see your friend towards the back of the shop. She waved you down and you acknowledged her before getting in line to place your order.

“Next in line.”

You gave a soft smile to the barista and gave him your order—going with a large caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso, you were in need of caffeine in the hopes that it would give you enough energy to last through three classes. When you pulled to the side and began to scroll through Instagram, your friend sent you a playful text message about how she was glad that you went with the biggest size, you were definitely going to need it.

“I have a grande matcha latte and a venti iced americano with almond milk for Aubrey—“

Your heart felt as if it was about to combust out of your chest at the sound of her name. Sure, there could have been multiple Aubrey’s on your campus. It wasn’t an uncommon name—but you knew the americano was Mark’s go to beverage. He was lactose intolerant and the first time you went to get coffee together, he told you that americanos helped him stay awake. You didn’t want to look up—you were afraid of seeing her or worse—seeing him.

Life could be a bitch sometimes. Maybe this was your karma for fooling around with someone who was already taken. You couldn’t help it, you lifted your head up to see the girl who owned the heart of the man who owned yours and you ultimately regretted doing so. She was beautiful—there was no doubt about it. No matter how much you wanted to be bitter and say that she was ugly or that you couldn’t understand what Mark saw in her, you knew that was far from the truth. You’ve only seen a few pictures on her Instagram when you accidentally stumbled upon her account one day but her pictures didn’t do her justice at all. Her long brown hair was in big, bouncy waves.

She was wearing a red, summer dress with a pair of heels. You could feel yourself choking up at the sight of her and all her beauty and you began to mentally scold yourself for not putting any effort in to your outfit at all today. But what did it matter? At the end of the day, it was her who got to say that Mark was her person. She got to tell people with confidence that they were a couple while you had to hide behind the cafeteria or shopping malls in the fear of anyone recognizing the two of you.

She grabbed the two drinks and made her way to a table near where your friend was sitting. Out of all the places that she could have decided to meet you, it just had to be the same place that Mark’s girlfriend was currently at all the while waiting for him. Was it too late for you to come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t stay for too long? Surely she’d be able to understand right?

There was no way you could be able to withstand being in the same room with the man that ripped your heart from out of your chest and threw it on the ground right in front of you—stepping on it like a used cigarette. That’s all you were to him—a cigarette. You were bad for him—but he was addicted to you and he used you only when it was beneficial to him. Just like the way smoking addicts would turn to cigarettes for stress relief, Mark would come to you for a way to release any pent up frustration and just like when the cigarette burns out and the high is over, you’re thrown to the ground and discarded until he needed another hit.

“Y/n, I have your venti caramel macchiato.”

Your hands were shaking and all the wind was knocked out of you. After politely thanking the barista, you took in a deep breath as you sauntered to the direction of your friend. You began to plan out ways to escape this unfortunate situation you found yourself in. Fate must’ve had something against you; this wasn’t a coincidence that you’d be in the same exact place at the same exact time as the both of them. This was your payback—your punishment and you were just going to have to take it like a big girl.

“Hey y/n. I’m so happy to see you again, although, from what everyone who has seen you has told me so far, you really don’t look too good. Maybe you should have asked your doctor to give you a few more days off—“

“I’m fine, really. I can’t afford to miss out on any more school or else I won’t graduate on time. Don’t worry about me. Let’s talk about you, inform me on everything I missed.”

As she began to tell you about how her life was going and how much you missed out on so many fun outings, everything she was saying went through one ear and out the other. Thankfully, your back was facing where Aubrey was sitting. You were sure if you were able to see her, you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of her. Your friend continued to explain the crisis she was experiencing with one of her AP classes and you felt bad for not giving a shit at all. You tried to muster any kind of response and you could tell your “oh really?” and your “that sucks” were completely insincere, but if she noticed anything out of the ordinary—she didn’t say anything.

You didn’t think anything of the chime of the front door, but something in your chest—probably the fact that you grew accustomed to the distinct sound of Mark’s footsteps made it known that he was now there and your suspicions were soon answered when he spoke up.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. My professor held us back for five minutes. You weren’t waiting too long were you?” She giggled softly at her apology and it had to be the green monster of jealous on your back that was growing annoyed at the sound.

“No. I just got our drinks. So how was class baby?”

The term of endearment made your skin crawl—baby. You used to call him that; but then again, it was only when you were fucking him. Only once did you ever call him baby other than when you were having your fun together and he never really reacted to it. He must’ve been used to hearing you say it during your many hookups that it was second nature to you. You couldn’t handle staying in the coffee shop for a minute longer—you were afraid that something inside of you would get you to walked over to their table and tell her everything.

Mark didn’t deserve to have a happy ending—not after all that he’s put you through. If you had to suffer, so did he. But you weren’t like that. You weren’t a terrible, heartless person no matter how much you wanted to be. You wanted to hurt him—break him—ruin him the way he so easily did to you. You wanted every single one of his thoughts to be filled with you and how he played you. Your mind was begging you to leave—the last thing you needed was to make a fool out of yourself and who knew? He could pretend that he had no idea what you were talking about and make you seem like the biggest idiot ever.

“Hey, I actually planned on talking to my physics professor about missing assignments so I think I’m going to head out. Sorry about that.” The younger girl shook her head before giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

“You’re fine! Don’t stay away from us any longer okay? We’re only young once, let’s make the most of what we still can.”

You mirrored her expression and nonverbally agreed before picking up your books and your bag. Right as you said your goodbyes, you abruptly turned around and collided with a body. Not just any body—the body you’ve grown so familiar with in the last half a year. The body that made you feel so safe, so comforted, so happy and so serene. The body you’ve missed more than anything—Mark.

“I’m so sorry I should have looked where I was going—y/n?”

Hearing him say your name again after almost an entire month of not seeing or hearing from him sent you through so many different emotions and you felt like you were on the verge of both throwing up and crying. It wasn’t a sensation you were used to nor did you ever want to get used to it. You just wanted to get the hell out of there. You didn’t even look up at him; your initial instinct would probably be to either punch him or to kiss him and both options would bring you so many problems.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me—“ you attempted to walk away from him; being this close in proximity to him was suffocating. Your chest felt heavy and you were growing nauseous.

“Y/n, I’m sorry—that night—I can explain—“

“There’s nothing for you to explain Mark. I’d watch myself if I were you. Your girlfriend is right over there. You’re not as quiet as you think you are, I don’t even know why you’re talking to me or what you feel the need to explain yourself. What we had is over. You and I are over, so there’s no need—“

“Please, we need to talk. I need to tell you something—“

Now would be a good time to just bring your fist up and force it against his cheek. Did he hear himself? He was gone—he stayed away for weeks. He made you feel like complete and utter shit. He didn’t fight for you or your relationship—he didn’t beg you to stay nor did he try to stop you at all. Seeing him right now, you noticed that you were more angry with him than you were missing him. Did he really think that you were going to take him back with open arms as though the last three weeks of hell that you suffered through never happened at all? Did he think you were that stupid and that desperate enough to go crawling back to him with the snap of a finger?

He knew that he had the power to get you to come running to him even if he didn’t try to stop you that night. If you were to tell him why you were so angry with the fact that she interrupted your time with him, he would have seen right through you. If Mark had any kind of common sense, he would be able to pick up on the fact that it had nothing to do about being interrupted during sex. You wanted to laugh sarcastically—his girlfriend was a mere five feet away, he was truly unbelievable.

“Your silence that night spoke volumes for you so I think it’s best if we pretend like what we had never happened at all. You better go return back to her or else she’ll know something is up. I meant what I said when I left you, I no longer want to be apart of your life if my place—my presence isn’t as much of a priority as yours is in mine. Now, before I end up walking over there and telling her exactly who you are and who I was to you, be smart and leave it as it is.”

You shoved passed him and walked out of the shop with so much weight off of your shoulders. Telling him off felt amazing; there was so much more you wish you could have said, but you already felt eyes on the two of you and you didn’t want to bring any more attention to the two of you. You were sure your friend must’ve saw the entire exchange go down and she would most likely have a lot of questions, but you didn’t care about anything at all—your mind was set on going back home.

Sleep sounded so good right now and as much as running away from your problems wasn’t ideal, you deserved some rest. You didn’t even attend one class and you were in more or less words exhausted to the tenth degree. The image of him begging for you to hear him out with just his eyes alone was now imprinted in the back of your mind. Mark was never a man of words—not with you. He preferred using actions and you liked it that way.

But now, those actions were being used against you, not for you. There was something inside of you; pleading for you to hear him out—you knew it was the part that still loved him wholeheartedly. You wanted to give up your pride—you were proud of yourself for standing your ground, but there was a hole in your heart that could only be filled by Mark himself. As you started walking towards your car, you felt your phone vibrate in your bag and it didn’t take a genius to know who might have been texting you.

That was who he was; Mark was insufferable. He was the type who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted and if he wanted to talk to you, he was going to do anything and everything in his power to get you to listen. You contemplated taking a glance at your phone for quite some time. It was tempting; what if he decided to just confess everything since you weren’t willing to let him talk to you in person? There was really no harm in looking at his messages; you just weren’t going to respond. If you even sent a simple “back off” you were allowing him to continue sticking around in your life. By not responding at all, you’re giving him an answer.

Getting over him completely was going to take some time, but you owed it to yourself to be released from the confines of Mark’s hold that he had on you. There were so many other men out there; men who didn’t come with baggage. Men who were both physically and theoretically available. Men who would love you—only you. Men you didn’t have to worry about their place in your life or your place in theirs. You bit your lip in anticipation; what was there left for him to say or do after you practically shunned him from your life? He might have believed he wasn’t going to give up this time without a fight; you probably did damage to his ego but your mind was set.

You were done with Mark Tuan, for good.

Mark: I love you and I’m sorry. 11:25 A.M.

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark #got7

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iwillbeinmynest · 4 years

Text

Redcove Harvest - Bucky x Reader(f) Chapter 3

Authors Notes: Glad to know ya’ll are enjoying this! If you happen to really like it, please consider reblogging or commenting. It really helps me understand what parts you do or don’t like about my work. :)

AU: Farmhand AU and SingleMom!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k +

Notes/Warnings: (Notes are for the whole series) FLUFF, mentions of a past toxic relationship, a wild storm at the end, drama and a break-up, mentions of drinking, kids being adorable and ridiculous, kissing, romance and a tiny bit of angst if you look hard but nothing more than that of a Hallmark movie.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

The next week went without a hitch. Bucky would show up at eight, and get right to work mowing the fields. After day four, he had both front fields mowed. He spent the next two days repairing all the holes and broken parts of the fence that lined the front of the property. After that, he cleaned up the fence line by cutting down saplings and removing weeds and vines. He even fixed the mailbox that sat out by the dusty road.

This morning was supposed to be no different but as he pulled up to the house, thunder rumbled. He hopped out of his truck and grabbed his wide brimmed hat. He figured working in the rain might beat working in the early spring heat. He walked over to the tractor but before he could hop on, he heard her.

“Bucky!” She shouted from the porch.

He turned to see Y/N waving him over. He jogged her way and as he reached the steps, the rain started.

“What’s up?” He asked her.

“Well, I figured with the rain I could steal you for some barn work.”

“Oh,” He replied as he took his hat off. “Yeah, I mean I was still planning on mowing. I know you’ve got those three back fields that are still pretty high.”

She waved the thought away. “It’s okay. I know it will get done. I need to get the goat barn fixed up and the horse stables need some minor repairs.”

“Yeah, sure. Lead the way.”

Y/N walked with Bucky in the light rain down to the yellow barn a couple dozen yards from the back of the house.

He’d been there a few times when he needed to talk to her or grab a tool. The goat barn was actually an old horse stable; the entire right side of stalls had been turned into one large stall that connected to one of the three back fields and the left side was a gardening workshop. One of the left side stalls had been turned into a small greenhouse.

Next to the workbench, in the garden shop, there was a large storage bin. It was lit up red with a heat lamp and he heard the faint sound of peeping.

He walked over and, sure enough, there were at least a dozen little chicks running around or huddled under the lamp.

“When did you get these?” He asked. He crossed his arms and smiled back at her.

She stepped up beside him. “Yesterday. Steve had them ordered for me and they finally came in.”

“Nice.”

She shifted her weight and her arm brushed against his. She moved away and apologized.

“Doesn’t bother me.” He reassured her. He really had no problem making contact with her.

She cleared her throat and walked over to the large goat stall. “So,” she changed the subject. “There are several boards around this opening that leads to their pasture. I had a billy a year ago who was a menace and rammed into it all the time. I’m so glad I got rid of him.” She chuckled. “And, goodness, he stank!” She turned to Bucky, “Did you know Billy’s pee on their beards? Because I didn’t.” Her face twisted in disgust.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I did know that.”

She huffed and grinned. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty new to this whole farm thing, so I’ve been learning as I go.” Y/N laughed at herself.

“New?” Bucky asked, surprised. “Looks like you’ve got a pretty good grip on it all.”

She shrugged lightly, “I mean, I didn’t start from scratch. This was Gavin’s family’s farm.” She paused then clarified, “Gavin was my husband’s name. He grew up here and when his parents passed, he got the farm. He did a lot of the clean up when we moved in and he purchased the livestock and foul. He even cared for most of them - the chickens have always been my thing, though.”

“What about the garden?” Bucky looked out the barn doors to the lush field full of greenery. The gentle rain was doing the day’s watering.

“That’s all me, too, but I only started gardening a few years ago.”

“Well, don’t sell yourself short. This is a lot of property, you’ve done a great job by yourself.” Bucky said as he opened the gate to the goat stall and stepped inside to examine the busted and rotting boards that needed replacing.

“I actually had a good bit of help.” She said as she leaned over the chick bin and pulled out the water dish. She went to the large sink near the workbench and began rinsing it of poop before she filled it back up. “After Gavin died, Steve came over and showed me the ins and outs of cows and goats for a month or two.”

That surprised him. Steve didn’t ever mention that.

“Yeah, and his friend, Nat, showed me how to garden.” Y/N put the water dish back and picked up the feed dish.

Bucky nodded to himself, “Nat has quite the green thumb for making gardeners.”

“That she does.” Y/N smiled as she returned the now full seed dish.

Bucky leaned over the gate and watched as Y/N tended to some seedlings that were on her work bench, spraying them with a squirt bottle. “So... can I ask what happened to Gavin?”

Y/N nodded but didn’t say anything and didn’t turn to face him, she just kept watering the little cupped sprouts.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s fine.” She turned to him with a somber look on her face. She took a deep breath and looked at Bucky. She wasn’t sure if she should say what she was thinking but, Gavin was dead, what was he gonna do about it?

“Gavin...was a jerk and a bully,” She started.

Bucky’s brows shot up but he kept listening.

“And what’s worse, he had no idea he was like that. He thought he was a great man- and sometimes, he was- but he had a habit of belittling people he didn’t agree with. It didn’t matter what, if he didn’t like it, you were stupid for thinkin’ it. He had his way of doing things and that was that, anything else wasn’t worth his time.” She crossed her arms and looked down at her boots. “I’m sure you’re wondering how I fell in love with a man like that but it was easy. I met him in high school. He wasn’t as bad then but I figure that’s because he was still growing and learning. It’s not an excuse, but he got it from his daddy. Compared to his dad, Gavin was a saint. Charles was as mean as he was stubborn and Gavin got the brunt of that growing up and he had no way of dealing with it other than doin’ the same stuff to other people. He didn’t do it to me until we were married and being that we were so young, I just thought it was a wife’s job to do what her husband said.”

Bucky swallowed and shifted his weight when she did the same, almost like they both broke out of the trance of story telling and listening.

“But there were good days. He wasn’t a monster. He could be really sweet, actually. He bought me the chickens after one of our fights, built me the fence around the garden after another. He never said sorry, he’d just build or buy me something. And I appreciated it. I really did love him.” Y/N suddenly realized that in her rant she’d never answered his question. She flushed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on about it. I guess I should get to it,” she chuckled.

Bucky smiled at her from his spot on the gate. “It’s fine.”

She took a deep breath. “Um, Gavin fancied himself a great driver, no matter his state. So, he went out with his friends one night and got plastered. He got in the car to come home and drove it into a tree at one hundred and ten.”

Bucky cursed.

Y/N nodded. “He at least had the decency to put me in the will when we got the house, so.” She shrugged her shoulders.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m sorry about all of that.”

She smiled at him and Bucky got the sense she was only doing it for his sake.

“I was too for a while. But I’m...happy, now.” Her smile seemed more genuine when she said that.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He grinned at her.

Y/N looked at him for a moment before turning back to her plants.

Bucky also got back to work and they spent most of the morning like that, just working in silence. Bucky was even able to finish the woodwork in under two hours before he fixed a few breaks in the goat field fence.

Around noon, Y/N invited him up to the house for lunch and after he declined twice, she finally insisted.

Bucky was happy to go.

* * * * * * *

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#Bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #bucky series #farmhand! AU #farmhand! Bucky #red cove harvest #i wrote this #iwillbeinmynest #Bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #romance

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

Text

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER FIVE: US

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x (fem)Reader Word Count: 2868 Rating: T - canon-typical language, reference to Stephen King A/N: The adorable, fluffy early part of a relationship is hard to write, y’all. Especially first dates.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

“So...you and Derek…” Riley began after you had both placed your orders and found a table.

“What? What about Derek and me? There isn’t a ‘me and Derek,’” you said in a rush. Except that there was, now, and you weren’t sure why you were denying it.

“That’s my point! You’d be good together.”

“Would we?” you asked skeptically.

A voice nagged at the back of your mind, lecturing you about how you knew that already, how of course you were good together, you were more than good, you were perfect foils. You liked bickering and bantering with him, and watching scifi together, and doing terrible impressions of people you both knew, and just talking and being near him. You weren't sure what had happened earlier, but you knew you wanted it to happen again. And that you wanted...to curl up on your couch with your knees tucked up under you and your head on his chest while his arm wrapped around you and held you close, or sit across from him at a restaurant and steal his fries, or make pancakes with him on a Sunday morning in your pajamas (never mind that you'd have to learn how first, for Derek you'd figure it out). You were sure you wanted all of those cute, romantic companionship things, with Derek. So why were you still pretending otherwise?

“Sure. He’s not my type, and he can be a little annoying sometimes, but he makes it work, in his own way.”

Your conversation was momentarily interrupted by your drinks and snacks being brought over. It was just enough time for you to come to a decision.

“You’re really selling him,” you joked, hiding a smile behind your scone. “I’m so convinced.”

“Come on, Y/N. Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”

“Riley, listen. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, setting me up with Derek, but you are wasting your breath...”

“Why? Give me one good reason not to go out to dinner with him.”

“He hasn’t asked me to?” you squinted your eyes and tilted your head in question.

She sighed. “Okay, you’re right. Hypothetically though, if he did ask, and assuming you both had the night off, and—”

“Riley, can you slow down for a second?” you couldn’t help but laugh as you cut off what was likely to be quite the spiel. After all, she was a business major, and they loved their hypotheticals almost as much as lawyers.

She stopped, or at least paused, and picked up her coffee cup, looking at you expectantly.

“You’re wasting your breath not because my answer would be no, but because...well..he and I sort of...already...hooked up? About,” you checked the clock on your phone, “an hour ago.”

She choked, only just avoiding spraying her latte over you. “What?!”

“Well I mean, not hooked up, hooked up. But there was a lot of kissing, and other stuff. And not a lot of clothes. It probably maybe might have actually ended up as hooked up, hooked up if you hadn’t called,” you grimaced as you tried to explain. “But you cannot tell Sean any of this.”

“Why not?”

You chewed on your lip. “Because it just happened. And I don’t know if it was a one-off, heat-of-the-moment thing. So I don’t want him to know anything until there’s something worth knowing. If there’s something worth telling, he’ll probably end up one of the first to know anyway.”

“Okay, I might let you have that,” she smirked, leaning in. “So tell me more: What’s ‘other stuff’? How few clothes are we talking? How’d it happen? Was it good?”

Your cheeks felt hot with embarrassment as you laughed awkwardly and focused your attention on your drink as a distraction.

“You’re never gonna believe this, dawg,” Derek said, blowing a puff of smoke up into the air. “So I was over at Y/N’s, and we were hangin out, and we started arguing, right?”

“Because that comes as a shock to anyone,” Sean answered, rolling his eyes and taking a long drag before passing the joint back.

“No, no, no, man. That’s not the surprising thing. We’re arguing and all up in each other’s face and then, out of nowhere, she kisses me!” Derek’s grin was wide and a little bit awed as he spoke, forgetting to take another hit.

There was genuine shock on Sean’s face and he seemed at a loss for words, blinking owlishly at his best friend.

“So anyway, there I am, there we are because the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen - no offense to Riley man - is kissing me, so obviously I kissed her back. She didn't taste like I thought she would, apples or somethin, like she always smells, but I guess that's her hair or something, it was…” Derek trailed off for a second, trying to think of exactly how he wanted to describe the taste of kissing her, and then he snapped his fingers, carrying on, “candy canes. Those ones with the extra purple stripe that kinda taste like berries.”

He ignored Sean saying his name, trying to capture his attention and carried on.

“Then, it's not just kissing. Cus she's laying back onto the bed and I'm following and now I'm on top of her and she takes her shirt off. No bra underneath so I've got the perfect view of her sweet, perky—”

“Stop!” Sean yelled, voice echoing off the concrete pillars of the parking garage. “Fucking hell Derek, that's my cousin. Practically my little sister for Christ's sake.”

“What?” Derek frowned, confused for a moment when it finally dawned on him. “Oh shit, man, I'm sorry. I thought since you were cool with me taking a shot...I wasn't thinkin about…”

“It's fine. I only need to bleach out half my brain. I'm happy for you and Y/N, I really am, it's about time frankly, but I don't want to know.”

“Yeah. Yeah no problem man.”

A silence hung over them as they finished their smoke, before suddenly Derek was speaking again.

“I looked up the song while I drove here, and it turns out, she was right. I had nothin to even argue with her about.” He chuckled, the grin creeping across his face again. “I’m glad I did though.”

Several weeks went by and it seemed like things were going back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. You got busy with school and finals, seeing Derek a lot less often and for shorter blocks, and the timing never seemed right to talk.

One night, you were both hanging out with Sean, trying to cheer him up over the fact that Riley had cancelled on him because of some big presentation for school. While your cousin was out of the room meeting the pizza guy, an odd silence descended over you both for a moment, before Derek turned to face you on the couch.

“What are we?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you answered, frowning in confusion and mirroring his position.

“We have one killer makeout, then never talk about it. I flirt, I think you’re flirtin back but it’s hard to tell. You call me sweet one second and stupid the next. I just don’t get it, Y/N, and it’s starting to drive me crazy.”

“I like you, Derek. A lot. Like, to the point it kinda scares me if I’m being honest, a lot,” you shrugged, holding your shoulders at your ears. “But...I don’t know. Is this a good idea?”

“This? You mean...us?” He frowned in confusion.

“Is there an us already?” you sighed, voice trembling. “Yeah, I guess I mean, the possibility of an us at least.”

He reached over, taking one of your hands in his. “I don’t want to push you into anything, but I’ll be honest, girl, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You opened your mouth to make a snarky comment in response and he shook his head, laughing lightly.

“I mean the real you, not just kissin you or seeing your tiddies, although those were nice.”

You shot him a glare, reaching across the gap between you to slap his shoulder in annoyance. He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender.

“You’re so smart, way too smart for me. And fiesty, and hilarious, and sweet. I don’t know, you’re you. And I really like everything about you, all the little things even that make me feel like I got steam comin outta my ears like the Looney Tunes.”

“I…”

“Let me take you out to dinner, or breakfast, or lunch, whenever you’re free. A date though. One date and we can talk about it, whatever’s got you feeling unsure. Please?”

He was looking at you so earnestly that you couldn’t resist saying yes, suggesting lunch on Sunday just as Sean returned. He looked between you with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. You rolled your eyes, stealing the food from him, and Derek pressed play on the movie as Sean settled back into the middle seat.

You paced anxiously up and down the length of your living room, biting on a thumb nail. You paused, debating changing your outfit for the third time. Derek had said he wanted to do the whole package for a date, so he was going to pick you up at your apartment, and drive downtown. Then you’d park and walk together to lunch. It was cute. But it left you with too much time to think while you waited for the text that said he was downstairs.

It was just Derek. Derek who’d been your friend for months now, who could make you laugh no matter what, and who looked at you like you hung the moon when he thought you didn’t notice, and who made your stomach flip. Derek who you’d been fully ready and willing to sleep with a few weeks ago. But this felt different. It was a real date. It was a tipping point, maybe the start of something, or the end.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, making you jump.

‘Hey, I’m here. Want me to come up?’ you read.

If he came upstairs, you could probably convince him to forget the date and the questions and the everything else to pick up where you’d left off the last time he’d been to your place. The thought was tempting. But it was only delaying the inevitable.

‘I’ll be down in a sec,’ you fired back instead, gathering up your keys and purse and hurrying down to meet him.

He was standing on your front step when you got downstairs, greeting you with a surprising hug, which you were happy to return, before you both stepped back and took each other in.

“Damn,” he said with a low whistle. “You look…damn.”

You felt your cheeks flush hotly. Your outfit wasn’t something particularly fancy, but you had tried to dress nicely for him, and to take advantage of the warm spring weather.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, smiling broadly at him (code for he looked absolutely jaw-droppingly sexy in his own choice of dressy-casual).

He winked at you and then swept an arm out dramatically. “Your chariot awaits. Shall we?”

“Don’t mind if I do, kind sir,” you affected a posh accent and haughty expression before giggling and practically skipping down the stairs.

The drive, as usual, turned into an impromptu concert (mostly Bon Jovi today) and for the walk to the restaurant and all of lunch, conversation flowed easily. It was comfortable enough that you almost forgot that you had hesitated to agree.

“I hate to kill the mood,” he said after most of your meal was done. “But part of today was supposed be to figuring out us.”

You sighed. There was the other shoe, finally dropping.

“You’re right, it was.”

“So why do you think this is a bad idea?” he cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Straight to the point,” you observed. “I'm surprised.”

He shrugged. “Just wanna get it done. Why dance around?”

“I don’t know. We’re friends, and I like how things are. And you and Sean are friends and if we were to try this...dating or whatever thing, and it didn’t work out I don’t want to lose us or ruin your friendship or,” you sighed. “It just seems like a lot to risk.”

“Sean and I are way too close to let a girl come between us, even if that girl is you.” He smirked teasingly at you.

“Well that makes me feel a little better,” you rolled your eyes, but there was a sincerity to your words that he definitely picked up on. “What if you’re wrong, and we start dating, and it makes things awkward between you and Sean? What if it doesn’t but we break up and then Sean has to pick between his cousin and his best friend? What if we start dating and it doesn’t work out and we lose each other? Because you’re one my best friends, Derek, and I can’t even imagine what life would actually be like without you in it, but it’s a scary thought. What if—”

He reached across the table to rest his hand on top of the fingers you were drumming anxiously on the table.

“Forget what ifs for a second.”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Just work with me. No thinking about the future. If just right now mattered, how would you feel? What would you do?”

“I don’t know. I’d feel...happy? I’d tell you that I’m having a really good time hanging out with you again, and I missed it when I got busy with finals. I’d tell you that color looks really good on you. And that you have chocolate from your pancakes on your lip, but...I think you should leave it there and let me get it…” you were blushing furiously, cheeks practically on fire, and you fought the urge to look down at the table.

He laughed, the sound filling your chest with warmth and effervescence. With a wink, he shifted his chair around the table until his knee bumped into yours.

“Go on then,” he murmured, angling even closer. “Live in just this moment.”

You breath caught in your throat, heart racing.

“Or should I do it for you?”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and his eyes traced its path.

“Derek…” your voice was barely above a breath.

And then you were both leaning in, and his hand was braced on the back of your chair, and yours was on the back of his neck. Your lips were on his and his were on yours, and for a second, time and his breath and your heart all stopped. You slid your tongue across his lip and then sucked on it lightly, removing the chocolate stain as promised and making him groan softly. His hand left the chair to curl around your back, trying to angle you closer without pulling you off your chair.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, shattering the moment and making you leap apart. The freckle-faced young waiter stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.

“You...uh...I was asked to come over and tell you that…” he stammered, blushing furiously.

“We’re disturbing the other customers and should keep the PDA for later?” you asked sheepishly, not unfamiliar with the feeling of having to deliver such messages to couples on dates.

He nodded rapidly before turning tail and practically fleeing back to the kitchens. You couldn’t help giggling, especially when you saw the pouting look on Derek’s face. After a moment, he grinned and joined in with your laughter, until you earned another stern look from some of the older folks in the little restaurant around you.

“Maybe we should go?” you suggested, struggling to contain yourself. “I don’t think they like us much.”

“Probably,” he answered, quickly waving down someone to bring your check.

As you walked out together, you impulsively stepped closer. You were just passing through the door and into the afternoon sunshine when you laid your head on Derek’s shoulder, making him stiffen for a moment, before he shifted his stance to make it more comfortable for the both of you, looping an arm around your waist.

“So,” he said as you wandered like that down the sidewalk in no particular direction.

“Hm?”

“What’s this mean then?”

“It means that I like you, a lot. And I like this...us...thing. And I’m still scared, but I want to give it a shot?”

“Okay.” You could practically hear the grin in his voice as his arm tightened to pull you closer.

“And if you ever break my heart, I’ll break your foot.”

“Why my foot?” he laughed.

“Because it’s easy-ish. And it makes it harder for you to leave.”

“Ah, I see. Going a little Annie Wilkes on me?”

“You’ve seen Misery?”

“No. But I liked the book.”

You tilted your head to look more fully at him, gaping.

“What? Am I not allowed to be a Stephen King fan?”

“You never cease to surprise me, Derek Sandoval.”

#am I glossing over too much of the relationship building?#am I packing too many events into a single chapter?#I worry about these things #anyway...more fluff #more cuteness #before the angst that is a'coming #Derek Sandoval x Reader #Bad Samaritan fic #queued for once because reasonably no one is awake at this hour

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botanicials · 4 years

Text

backpedal

... in which harry accidentally moans the wrong name

... word count: 4.4k

... theme: angst

Being memorable was one of Harry’s most redeeming qualities, you had figured that out early on in your relationship.

Not only would he remind you about plans you’d made with friends or meetings you were scheduled in at work; he’d remember the small things, like when once whilst telling a story from years ago, you’d mentioned that you could only tolerate cherry-flavored cough drops. Two months after the small comment, you’d caught a cold and amongst the care “basket” (large reusable grocery bag) he packed up was a heavy bag of cherry Ricola.

He knew that when your nose scrunched up, you were having a hard time keeping your thoughts at bay, which perfume you wore according to the season, which sweaters you preferred whenever you were over at his because “Harry it’s cold out why would you possibly need the A/C on at night?”.

One thing he happened to not remember however, at such an unfortunate time, was your name.

It wasn’t like he’d just gotten back from promos, recording, writing even, or that the two of you having sex was anything new for fuck’s sake. He was back from the states, the album has been done for months, and it wasn’t even fifteen hours ago that you two were in this very position.

There was no other reason for his mind to be elsewhere. No other reason for him to focus on anything other than you.

It happens when he dips his hips at a certain angle, the back of your head digs further into the pillow and he buries his face into the exposed side of your neck, warm breath sweeping over your skin as a groan escapes his lips.

You could feel nothing but him: the weight of his body, the thin layer of sweat on his back under your fingertips. His movements seemed so impulsive, habitual and that made the entire situation so much worse.

He brought his hand down to grip your waist, lips parting open. “Fuck, Cami-…” His throat closed up, body seeming to instinctively stop himself from saying her name as his eyes flew open in a panic.

Your hands immediately fly to his shoulders as you push and turn your head to the right, eyes unable to reach his. “Off. Get off, get off–”

“I didn’t..” His words die out and he removes himself from you and rests on his side, arm now supporting most of his weight. “Baby-” he whispers, reaching to try and grab at your wrist but you’re too fast.

One second you were under him, holding, pulling on his forearm to have him closer; and the next, you were pushing him as far from you as possible, grabbing the throw blanket sat at the end of his bed and wrapping it around your body before practically sprinting to the ensuite bathroom.

“Love, love, love, love, love…” his words are rushed as he quickly follows after you, not bothering to cover his lower half. The haziness in the room had dissipated, and he now found himself in panic mode trying his best to get to you as soon as possible.

Yet again, he isn’t fast enough, because the door slams right in his face and he has to snap his fingers from the frame so they aren’t caught. “Baby, I… shit.” He whispers to himself, grabbing at his sweatpants that were left tossed over the armchair.

None of this feels real to him. It can’t be because he couldn’t have possibly just done that. There’s no fucking way.

It’s as if he’s watching all of this unfold from someone else’s point of view. It’s as if he’s dreaming; his head is spinning and nothing makes sense- this can’t be real.

His fingers tremble as he ties the drawstring taut around his hips, shaking his head to himself as he moves over to the door.

“I don’t…” Fuck. Fuck. “Wasn’t thinkin’ about ‘er. I wasn’t. And I… I know that sounds like absolute shit, but I swear it. Baby, I… I wasn’t thinkin’.”

His heart is beating out of his chest as he explains because he loves you. He does. Told you that for the first time just four days ago. You’re easily one of the best things that have ever happened to him in such a long time and this wasn’t anything but an accident. There was no deeper meaning.

“Don’t know what else t’say, darling… I’m sorry. I am- and I know that might not mean much right now but I.. I’ve never been more sorry.”

It’s when he hears you sniffle from behind the door that his heart drops even further and tears sting his eyes. His hands rest on his hips and he tilts his neck back to blink up at the ceiling.

Things were just starting to become real with you-- not that they never were, but the two of you weren’t just dating anymore. He was getting ready to introduce you to his family, he had just started thinking about the thought of you two being together. The house and the kids and a ring and it’s fucking ridiculous, he knows that, but now it isn’t. Now, it’s borderline impossible. All because of tonight.

A slip-up.

He’s aware of how selfish he’s planning on being; preparing on asking you to look past his mistake, to forget that this had ever happened, but at this point he needs you. It’s desperate and pathetic but it’s all he could bring himself to be at this moment.

A handful of minutes pass of a teary-eyed Harry pacing back and forth in front of his bathroom door and you sniffling from behind it before he decides to finally sit on the wooden floor beside it.

You both stay like that for a while, quiet sitting nearly back to back on opposite sides of drywall and it’s not like you two, not knowing what to say, what to do, or how to act around one another. Not in so long, so the feeling is too foreign. Unwelcome.

Harry clears his throat. “Just… take as long as yeh need, love. M’right here.” He finally says and the thought of you wanting him anywhere but there makes him rest his head in his hands. A part of him knows he should leave to another room, give you some space. Yet that same selfish part of him wants to do nothing but hold you as close as possible and explain himself. Explain what happened those moments ago, even if he didn’t know how. He just wanted a chance.

About fifteen minutes go by before he speaks again. It’s nearing two in the morning and you’ve been quiet for a while so there’s a possibility you’re asleep, but he decides to gamble.

“I love you.” He starts. “I meant it when I said it the first time and I mean it now. So.. so much, angel. Yeh have no idea like… really s’just– this whole thing is..” He runs a hand over his face before resting his elbows on his bent knees. There’s no way this was good for his back.

He’s frowning to himself as he prepares. “When I said- When I almost said Camile’s name I–”

His apology is cut short when the ensuite door practically slams open and his head snaps over to catch a blur of navy blue fly past. You’re still wrapped in the velvet soft blanket, nothing too out of the ordinary, only you’re not half asleep asking him to “Please stay a little longer?” with a soft pout at your lips.

No. Right now you’re fast and focused, throwing his white comforter around in search of your clothes. You aren’t begging him to get back in bed until the sun comes up, you’re trying to remove yourself from the room as quickly as possible.

Harry’s standing now, lingering as he rubs at the knot growing in his neck, eyes on you.

“Baby-”

“Please.” You breathe out, hand spread out in front of you. “I can’t right now, Harry.”

The sound of your voice makes him freeze, arms falling to his sides as you resume searching for your bralette, he’s assuming, considering you’ve already snatched up everything else.

In these last twenty to twenty-five minutes, you’re clearly exhausted; and if his mind is running miles a minute he can only imagine what scenarios you’re thinking up. He understands, really he does because if he was on the other end of things he’s not sure what he’d be presuming right now.

It’s just that he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to sit back and watch someone that’s made him look forward each day leave without putting in any effort. He’d beat himself up over this entire situation even more if he didn’t at least try.

“I wasn’t thinkin’ straight–“, he decides to repeat. Everything he rehearsed in his head is long gone and he finds himself unable to elicit what he’d already said from the other side of the door. “Wasn’t thinkin’ at all because it’s just you. S’all you. Just sit and-” He panics when you finally grab the white lace that was twisted in his comforter and make a beeline back to the bathroom. “Woah, woah, woah.”

He’s able to catch you before you can make it this time, his hand wrapped loosely around your arm, eyes trying to find yours. “Love…”

“Let go.”

He murmurs your name and his shoulders sag. “Look a’ me. C’mon-”

“I said let go.”

The room goes quiet as he stares at the side of your face and you realize how heavily your actions affect your future; what effects these next few moments would have on what could be the remaining of your relationship. Every decision you make right now is going to alter whether you and Harry will end up together or not. And that’s all too much right now.

You reluctantly turn your head to look over at him; with your red-rimmed eyes and in a raw voice you whisper, “.. I really can’t right now.”

Harry’s lips are rolled into his mouth when he nods his head, eyes falling to the ground before removing his hand from your skin.

He has to take in a shaky breath when you close the door behind you, sniffling as he wipes at the wet under his eyes. He’s realized that you leaving tonight was the only option for right now, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t.

Harry Sunday 4:36 AM I love you so much, darling. I wish I could apologize a million times over. I understand if you need time but whenever you’re ready to talk to me, I’m here. I’ll wait for you.

Harry Monday 11:12 AM Just woke up. I’ve got a meeting at 1 until 3 or so, but if you need me please don’t hesitate to call. I love you.

Harry Yesterday 9:02 PM Know it’s late, didn’t forget about you. I was at another meeting. Still here, love you so much.

It’s past-noon now, however many days later, and Harry is sat on the lounge he had on his backyard patio, a thick blanket heavy on his shoulders. The outdoor fireplace was lit in front of him, warming mostly his legs and the mug of hot chocolate he sat on the small table beside it. Flurries in the air confirm the fact that he should not be outside, but he’s always found the sounds of the river a few meters down to be therapeutic, icy ripples that weren’t yet frozen over resonating as the sky turns into a hazy purple.

He’s able to think back on how much you enjoyed laying up with him out here. There was usually a book in both your and Harry’s hands, maybe a homemade drink if Harry was feeling particularly generous.

He brought you out here the first time you visited his house, it was around the same hour it is now; the sunset, the snow wind, the ripples. You’d both gotten into such a spellbound conversation that he’d forgotten to give you a full tour; the two of you stayed out there all night just… talking and Harry doesn’t think he’d ever appreciate such a simple moment more.

Speaking with you was always effortless up until now, where he’s only been in contact with you once a day for the last few. Through text.

He didn’t want to overwhelm you, he knew you wanted-- needed space, so he succumbed to daily texts, so you knew that he was still fighting. The last thing he needed was for you to think that he gave up.

Flowers or edible arrangements… they crossed his mind, but this wasn’t something that could be fixed with something materialistic; you deserved so much more than that.

Harry Today 6:58 PM Hey.. I hope you’re doing well. Our coffee place has a special on the cinnamon bagels you like. x

“That was cordial,” he says to himself, reading it over a couple of times before tossing his phone on the cushion beside his leg.

You hadn’t answered the last three messages, he doesn’t even know if you’ve read them-- and a part of him wonders if he isn’t trying hard enough. Are you expecting the flowers and chocolate covered fruits? Him on his knees begging at your front door?

Deep down he knows he knows you, and any other day he wouldn’t second guess you needing your space, but you seem much too far away than he’s used to and his confidence in his knowledge of you is beginning to slip away.

His phone dings and he jumps, heart buzzing as he looks at the notification.

Mitch Today 7:06 PM You still going to Los Angeles next Thursday?

“For fuck’s sake…”

Harry Today 7:06 PM Don’t know yet, I will by Wednesday. x

It’s a second after sending that he receives another message.

Today 7:07 PM I’m doing okay, thank you for the exposé.

Harry’s heart stutters as he rereads your name at the top of the notification. Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

Okay? Much better than bad, so he takes that as a positive, just like how he took the fact that you’d left your toothbrush at his as a good sign as well.

Harry Today 7:09 PM Course. x

Harry Today 7:10 PM I could grab you some? I’m on the way out to the store.

Lie.

Today 7:12 PM it’s okay, don’t want you to go out of your way.

Harry Today 7:13 PM It isn’t, really. I don’t mind.

Harry Today 7:13 PM And I’d really like to see you.

It’s the longest you two have gone without seeing each other whilst being remotely in the same area. He’s convinced himself that the sniffles he’s had for the last few days are allergies and not from him being a bit lovesick.

He stares once a grey text bubble pops up on his screen, taunting him almost as he tries to anticipate your response.

No.

Too bad.

Fuck off.

Fuck you.

Those replies all seemed pretty rational to him, it’s what he expected; so when the text bubble disappears, his eyebrows pull together in a nervous furrow. His thumb reaches up to pull the screen up as if the messages would refresh, and flinches when you resume typing again.

He figures that a short message would be better than a long one, but a long one would be better than nothing; so he settles.

Today 7:16 PM is that a good idea??

Harry Today 7:16 PM It’s all up to you, love. I didn’t mean to force anything,

Today 7:17 PM you aren’t, I appreciate you giving me the space you did.

Today 7:17 PM if there’s a sale, do you think there will be any bagels left at this hour? haha

At that, Harry finds himself smiling.

Harry Today 7:18 PM Welllllll, for your sake I would hope so.

Today 7:19 PM if they don't, I'll take a cinnamon roll then.

Harry Today 7:19 PM Cinnamon roll or cinnamon bagel. Noted. See you in 15?

Today 7:19 PM yeah, the complex gates should be open

Harry Today 7:19 PM :)

“Don’t stress about it, you’re just gonna make yourself cry again.”

“Shut up, Anais..” you mumble, frowning at your laptop screen. Your friend only smiles, applying more of the mellow green face mask to her cheeks. “It’s just… not gonna be the same, I could feel it through the fucking screen, it’s weird now. And I know I’m being dramatic--”

“No, no, and no, I’m joking. You can’t be sorry for feeling hurt. He’s thinking about an ex, of course that hurts, it’s a problem.” Anais was the only person you could bring yourself to tell about the entire situation, far too embarrassed to bring it up to anyone else. That, and the two of you are the polar extremes of the same personality so you balanced one another out. “Whether it was an innocent mistake- which is what I’m leaning towards the most -or if there’s even the slightest possibility that he’s still got more feelings for the girl than he should.. babe, you have every right to feel upset either way.”

“See, and what’s fucked is that I figured as much in the beginning. They’ve only been broken up for like a year, but he went and wrote like.. almost an entire album? There’s got to be some kind of-” You circle your hands in front of you. “- deeper connection there. You know?”

Anais twists her lips. “Yeah, I know.”

“I can’t be upset with him for feeling how he feels, but I can be upset about him stringing me along.”

“Mm! That’s good, write that down.” She points at your phone through the screen. “Just not the stringing along part. Too harsh. Say… upset about him being with you when he doesn’t know what he wants.”

You get as far as typing doesn’t before you sigh, setting your phone down on the couch beside you. “This isn’t gonna work, I feel like I’m prepping for a presentation.”

The two of you conjured up a bullet list of highlights to mention ever since Harry said he was on his way, as of now, all you had was:

don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry

“I’ve decided that I deserve more because I do”

try to bring up feelings?? somehow?

talk about how you’re feeling and then how it affects the relationship?

“You don’t have to read it right in front of him, just reference it before you open the door so you have like, some idea of what to say. Do you know what you want to say?”

“No, and he could get here literally at any minute now, fuck.”

“Okay, okay. New plan.” Anais starts, and your face is buried in your hands. “Ditch the phone. Just.. when he’s in front of you, you’ll think more clearly. You said that once, right?”

“It’s different now.” Your words are muffled.

“You’ll figure it out. You figure everything out.”

With another sigh you drag your hands down your face and leave them covering your mouth and chin, Anais sees easily through the screen that your eyes are watered over. “I’m so fucking scared, Ana.”

And it’s true. Clearly.

In the small number of months you’ve been together, Harry had become someone you couldn’t quite imagine life without. He was so warm and inviting, homey. Once one of the easiest people to talk to and now somehow you couldn’t fathom him sitting on your couch in a few minutes, a place he’s been more times than you could count.

You didn’t want to lose him and right now that seems like the only resolution.

Your best friend watches you from her own apartment, her face turned down into a frown. You’re cuddled up with your biggest throw at the very left side of your couch, laptop sat on the console you situated in front of you. The lights were dim, curtains and blinds wide open displaying the snowfall. You should be sipping on Stella Rosa from the bottle with that cliche ABC movie Snowglobe playing, but here you are on the verge of tears over something so minuscule yet complicated.

“I don’t know.. it all just seems so inevitable-” You pause when three solid knocks sound at your front door. “He’s here.”

“Oh, shit.”

“I’ll…” You take in a deep breath and move the blanket from your lap. “I’ll call you back?”

Anais nods, a small frown on her features. “Text me if I’m not awake. Love you.”

You try to smile. “Love you.”

You didn’t realize how much the white noise of Anais’ call filled the room. Everything went quiet, and Harry’s presence from behind the door is evermore distinct.

Your sock-clad feet pad lightly upon the wood floor, your nerves seemingly pulling you in the opposite direction. Thoughts of you sat on his bathroom floor reappear in your memory; the embarrassment of not feeling like enough, the regret of deciding to go over to his in the first place.

If he never invited you over for homemade soup none of this would’ve happened, you’d be tucked under his arm trying not to fall asleep-- but it then makes you wonder if this was something that needed to happen. That you were only a temporary fix before he could go back to the one that still held onto his love strung heart.

With your fingers on the deadbolt lock, you twist and push down on the nickel door handle. A rush of frosty air slips from outside and into your foyer, the wind shifting the baby hairs off of your face.

Once the door is fully open, you find Harry’s stood in a thick white sweater and navy coat, a soft blush has grown upon his nose and cheeks. His hair is much curlier than usual, toppled over to one side thanks to the unpredictable weather. He’s holding a bag from Coldwell’s in his right hand and under his scent of vanilla and pine, was the sugary smell of cinnamon bagels. He’s squinting ever so slightly and his lips are a deep shade of pink. Despite it all, you find yourself admiring your boyfriend and for that small moment, everything that happened that night is forgotten.

“Was gonna knock again, wasn’t sure if you’d heard.”

“No, yeah, I did. Sorry, I was-” You clear your throat. “Sorry.”

Harry frowns and you realize then that he’s been outside for a bit too long now. “S’fine, no need ‘t apologize.”

“Um, come in.” You say, stepping behind the door and Harry moves to shuffle through. You shut and lock the door as he toes of his boots.

There are a few tiny snowflakes still sat in his hair and any other time you’d brush them away and bring him in for a kiss.

Now, you only glance up at them and quickly advert your eyes before finding your way down the hall.

The two of you end up on your couch, you on one end (where you’d been bundled up majority of the week) and Harry in the middle. There was an incredibly odd amount of space between the two, but him being here isn’t as incredibly off-putting as you imagined it would be beforehand.

His coat is hung up in your front closet, and the bag of bagels he’d promised you sit on your coffee table, the heat of them creating moisture on the wooden surface.

You shift to tuck your foot under you, moving a stray hair from your cheek. “I’m not really sure where to start,” you admit, focused on the fluff of your blanket.

Harry sniffs and clears his throat, gaining your attention. “I love you. And I know I’ve said it countless times now I just.. Me saying her name that night was.. nothing but an honest mistake-- wasn’t actively thinking about her I-I know that Mark asked me a question about her maybe the other day? Like, beforehand and.. tha’s the only like, reason I could think up of why I said it.”

You’re silent, allowing him to explain himself the best he could, so he continues.

“Know s’not something you could just.. forget about and move on from-- I’ve hurt you in one of the worst ways possible. Know that completely and I.. I can’t apologize enough, love.. I just want you to that I’m recognizing that I was in the wrong, you know? Not that you.. are putting any blame on yourself-- fuckin’...” He sighs, running a quick hand over his face and it’s clear that there are tears gathering in his eyes. “I dunno, I’m like, ramblin’ now-”

“No, I um.. I think it’s more humiliation than anything. Not that I shouldn’t feel the way I do, it’s just.. fucking embarrassing.”

“I’m sorry. I am so so sorry.”

“I know-”

“No, y’really don’t because I.. really don’t want to lose you over this, you’re.. undoubtedly the best thing that’s happened to me in so long.”

“That doesn’t mean that there might be lingering feelings for her, H.”

“But there aren’t,” he nearly cuts you off.

“I care about you,” you start. “I do. And this.. entire situation kind of just made me.. think about my worth. Um... I promised myself that I’d never let someone have that much of an effect on how I view myself because I’m always going to be me, you know?”

Harry nods, eyebrows drawn into a frown and you continue.

“So I.. I thought about it and reevaluated what I deserve and I know that it’s a bit more than that.”

“It is. S’so much more.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about the two of you.” You advert your eyes for a second. “When you love, Harry you give so much and... not that I can tell you how you feel, but I’ve... I don’t know.”

Harry blinks. “I don’t have any other reason as to why I could’ve said it. I don’t but what I do know is that I don’t feel the way I did before about her now,” he pauses. “I know with everything in me that I’m in love with one person, and she’s sat right in front of me.”

It dawns on you then (not that it hasn’t crossed your mind already) that this could indeed be nothing but a mishap with no hidden meaning. You aren’t an expert on how brains work, and this thought doesn’t submerge the ache and betrayal you felt, but ending such a potential relationship over a genuine mistake makes your stomach turn.

“Camile and I were together, yeah? I wrote some songs, we broke up, I wrote some more and yes, I was in love and then heartbroken but all of those feelings are so minuscule to how you make me feel. To how you’ve made me feel the last few months I’ve known you. You’ve got no idea how much I mean that. Baby, you have me. I don-”

You take his hand that was outstretched towards you- him being ever adamant on speaking with gestures - and rise to your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He wraps his around your back right away, pulling you closer into his chest.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your skin. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I love you.”

“I love you,” you finally say, eyes burning with tears. “I know I sound stupid; asking you for reassurance I-”

“No, hey, no. You deserve all of the reassurance in the world after that, darling. I can’t apologize enough.”

“It’s just gonna take me a little time, okay?”

“I know, love.. I’m sorry.”

Another one of Harry’s redeemable qualities was his integrity. You were aware of his morals and how authentic he was and despite the hurt and embarrassment you went through, you knew his heart.

There is no doubt that the two of you would be taking baby-steps for a spell; the important thing was that Harry was willing to wait as long you needed. And luckily for him, with the snow still brushing your window, there was an excuse for you to stay cuddled up with him for the remainder of the night.

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recurring-polynya · 4 years

Note

Do we have a Byakuya giving Renji marriage advice fic? I'd love to read one!

I know this is gonna seem like I can’t read the prompt, because it’s 95% Byakuya giving Rukia marriage advice, but I just honestly think Byakuya trusts Renji on this, given that Renji has worked for him for years at this point and just sort of anticipates all his needs and understands him better than really anyone, and also, Byakuya does not understand Renji at all and has no idea how his dumb jock brain works. He knows exactly how Rukia’s brain works, though.

Anyway, I am back on my Byakuya-writing-letters bullshit, please enjoy some Sunday afternoon feels. I think it should be obvious, but this takes place the night after Rukia and Renji’s wedding.

❤️ 🥂 🎊

It was late at night, but Rukia couldn’t sleep. Too much excitement, maybe, the unfamiliarity of a new house, the evening’s pleasant alcoholic haze fading into the beginnings of a hangover. It certainly couldn’t be the idea of a new life entirely, looming in front of her like an iceberg, complete with a new name and all sorts of new possibilities. Primarily, there was a new bed and a new person who slept in it with her, and she found the idea of waking him up terrifying, so she slipped out from under the blankets and crept downstairs.

She was digging around in the kitchen, wondering if Renji had gotten around to making any pickles since he moved in a month ago (there was an entire cabinet full, wonderful man!), when she remembered the note.

Rukia had briefly flipped through the envelopes of wedding money they had received earlier. The one from her brother bulged, and when she opened it up, the bills inside were large. Renji got nervous in the presence of large sums of money and she suspected he would attempt to give it back, so put it away quickly to deal with later, but not before she noticed a sheet of paper tucked inside among the bills. It had only her name on it, in her brother’s finest handwriting.

After retrieving the note, she settled on the couch (which had been Renji’s but was now theirs because that’s how this worked) with the jar of pickles tucked beside her (the pickles were hers because they were the spicy kind Renji made specially for her even though he couldn’t eat them himself).

My beloved sister, the note opened.

It is my impression that one of the important roles of an older brother is to go before one’s younger siblings, to chart the unknown terrain of life, and to act as guide and mentor. My own marriage was characterized by deep love and joy in the face of hardship, and I hope that yours will contain all of its happiness and none of its heartache. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you, I have no idea how I did it.

When our lots were first cast together, as you know, I declined to form a close relationship with you. This was a mistake on my part, born of the fear that you would remind me too much of Hisana. Later on, to my horror, I found the truth to be far worse-- although you do share some of your sister’s fine qualities, in personality, you bear a much greater resemblance to myself.

That being the case, I imagine that by the time you find this note, you will have tied yourself up into knots over whether or not you ‘deserve this’ or if you can ever be a satisfactory partner. We are very fine Kuchiki, you and I, Rukia. We are strong of body and of will. We are dignified in all we do. We devote ourselves to our duties before our else. Our hearts are strong and love strongly, but we hold them close, as we must. Our family is our pride, which, paradoxically, makes it nearly impossible to share ourselves with those we hold closest.

Your sister Hisana was an exceedingly stubborn person, who formed her own opinions of me, which may or may not have had any grounding in reality. She frequently told me that I was ‘kind’ and ‘thoughtful’ and ‘sweet’ and a variety of other adjectives that no other thinking person would dare to apply to me. It is very difficult to live with such a person for long before you find yourself trying to live up to their misguided delusions.

As it happens, this is among the distressing number of personality traits my adjutant shares with my late wife. His optimism is endless, his vision is permanently rose-tinted, even when he insists upon wearing those horrendous goggles. Any yet, time and again, I have seen him bring out the best qualities in the horrible ne’er-do-wells under our mutual command. Indeed, if I have ever been a good brother to you, it is mostly due to his belief that I could be so. It is a verifiable fact that you are one of the best best souls in all of Soul Society, one would think it would be unimaginable to inflate your worth beyond its actual measure, and yet, somewhere, he manages that, as well.

How is one supposed to live up to these sorts of expectations from the person they love most of all? It is impossible. At least in my case, Hisana was quite aware that I am a pompous buffoon, whereas Abarai fully believes the sun rises and sets for your personal benefit. I am going to tell you something that may be difficult to hear: you have to simply deal with it. He is never going to stop. If you are truly as like to me as I suspect, you will rebel against this, your brain constantly trying to sabotage your happiness.

The fact of the matter is, Rukia, these feelings of inadequacy spring from the very fact that you hold him so dearly that your own estimation of him is also blown out of proportion. Do not misinterpret me. I am very fond of Abarai, but he is a mess. A disaster. You have probably never seen his filing system, but it would give you the vapors. (I do suggest that you take responsibility over that aspect of your household management.) Again, I sympathize. He is actually not nearly so bad as your sister, whom I once watched deface a centerpiece at a very fancy benefit dinner (the end result was extremely offensive and also very humorous). In my mind, she is still the most perfect person I have ever met.

Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps you are plagued with none of the insecurities that troubled the early days of my marriage, and that I was only able to come to terms with once it became evident that our time together would be finite. I desperately hope this is the case, and if so, please do me the courtesy of destroying this letter, and forgetting all of this.

In either case, I wish you the utmost happiness with your horrible husband.

Your affectionate brother,

Byakuya

Rukia’s fingers clenched on the edges of the paper. The edges of her eyes were burning. How dare he do this to her, after all these years? How many times had they crossed paths in the gardens in the hours when they should have been sleeping? Since when did they need to say things in order to show how well they understood each other? Rukia had half a mind to march over there right now and punch him in his perfect face. He was most likely sitting out next to the koi pond this very minute.

“Thinkin’ of skippin’ out on me already?” a sleepy voice asked behind her, and Rukia jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“What? No!” Rukia rubbed at her hair and frowned apologetically at Renji, who seemed more interested in yawning. "I was thinking too loud and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Nah, my skull is too thick, I can’t even hear my own thoughts most of the time.” Renji leaned over the back of the couch, and Rukia guiltily folded her note in half. “Letter from Captain?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rukia excused. “Sorry. It was kinda personal.”

“I understand. I got one, too. It was less personal.”

A piece of paper dropped in her lap and as she was busy unfolded it, Renji grabbed her jar of pickles.

“Hey, that’s mine!” she protested.

“You don’t gotta tell me what your brother wrote to you,” Renji yawned, tucking the pickles under his arm. “But I think you should probably listen to him. He knows what’s he’s on about.”

Rukia looked at the piece of Squad Six letterhead in her hands. In precise, businesslike handwriting, it read:

To: Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain, Sixth Division

From: Kuchiki Byakuya, Captain Sixth Division

Re: My sister/Your pending wife

Lieutenant Abarai,

Please be aware that Rukia is prone to poor decisions when she has insomnia and it is in your best interest to prevent her from consuming excessively spicy and/or vinegared goods past a respectable bedtime.

Sincerely,

Captain Kuchiki

“Rat fink!” Rukia exclaimed.

“Come back to bed,” Renji implored, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I know some good ways to make your brain shut up.”

“Okay,” Rukia agreed grumpily. “I’m eating those pickles for breakfast, though.”

“I’m makin’ pancakes, but suit yourself.”

Rukia decided that maybe it was best to try and get some rest. She had a big rest-of-her-life coming up the next day.

#my writing #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #renruki #byakuya feels are the worst feels #but pining-for-his-dead-wife byakuya is the best byakuya #the paradox of byakuya

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tiredcowpoke · 4 years

Text

TITLE: If We’re Dying PAIRING: Hosea Matthews/Gender Neutral Reader (Platonic) REQUEST: Unprompted. BLURB: After many years, a familiar face appears in a crowd. WARNINGS: Not much. Some mentions of violence, but it’s mostly just bittersweet. NOTE: This is a late night self-indulgent thing, so I’m sorry if there are mistakes. I also wanted to try my hand at writing Hosea solo, so here we are.

You could feel your heart sitting in your throat as you brushed a hand alongside the neck of your trusted horse.

This was it. You had been found and all night you just kept playing out the idea of that bullet in your back when you exited out into the alleyway after the show. A part of you wanted to laugh--you saw so many faces come and go throughout the nights, so many conversations and words exchanged that didn’t really stand out. Yet, your eyes had connected, and you recognized him. More importantly, he recognized you. Even with the curious glance he had been giving your whole display, the look of realization that crossed his expression when your gazes met had been haunting you all night.

The little crowded tent had given you enough safety by being in public, shuffling around in the crowd to make your goodbyes. You had been cast the odd look at your behavior, usually not one to scurry off after a show but you knew you needed to leave.

Yet, as you had made your hurried steps toward your horse, you knew it wouldn’t be any use. He knew you were town, he would just find you another time.

So, that was how you ended up just standing near your horse, petting his neck distractedly as you caught sight of someone slipping out of the tent and making his way toward you.

“You seem to be in quite the hurry,” he called out after a moment, the familiarity of his voice hitting you hard in the chest as you took in a steadying breath, “You usually his hard to talk to after a show?”

“I…” you started, pausing before you glanced toward him, “I guess thinking you saw a ghost kind of does that to a person.”

He let out a somewhat wheezy laugh--that was new.

“Guess I weren’t thinkin’ we was all dead to you, then.”

“You’re not…” you replied around a sigh, “Though, with the lives you lead, it can be hard to tell.”

“Well, we know that better than anybody.”

Hosea Matthews had changed greatly since the last time you saw him, though you supposed he must have been making the same observation about you. He looked...older, more tired. His hair was now grey, he seemed a little thinner around the face as he stepped closer toward you in the light.

The mere sight of him before had almost sent you into flight, yet the expression that sat on his face currently was kind.

You had been expecting some harshness--you had felt like a traitor for years, having to up and leave in the middle of the night all those years ago. You had been expecting a bullet. You were a loose end, and yet Hosea just seemed confused as he seemed to catch on to the tension you were trying to hold back.

“I know what you did all them years ago--it’s in the past. I ain’t gonna hurt you,” he stated with some sincerity, the words making you pull your brows together in some confusion. Yet, there was a touch of relief that started to seep into your chest.

“...Well, maybe you have more capability for forgiveness than I had been thinking,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Can’t say it didn’t hurt,” he replied, letting out a small huff, “Can’t say it didn’t piss me off, neither, but...I got over it, started to understand it. I can’t say the same for some of the others, but…”

“I hadn’t been expecting that whole thing to go over well,” you explained, “Still don’t. Though...guess I appreciate you not shooting me in front of my horse.”

“Well, then, maybe you’d be willin’ to humor an old man and tell me what you’ve been doin’ all these years?”

***

Your little home wasn’t too far away from the town, you and Hosea sharing some chatter as you rode up there as the sun started to set further. He told you a little bit about the gang once you both had been further away from the streets and out toward the trails--Dutch, Arthur, and John were still around. Unsurprising. However, it had gotten bigger, from the way he had been telling it, giving you some names you didn’t remember.

It was almost surreal, him being there.

All those years ago, you hadn’t said any goodbyes. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, no, but rather you didn’t want to chance the idea of being talked into staying. Forced to. You had been good to cover your tracks, and eventually the paranoia about being found had faded off once you had a couple months between you and the gang. Until the current night, that is.

You eventually hitched your horse outside of your current home--it wasn’t much, four walls and a roof with a bed and stove.

“I’ve been trying to save up,” you explained somewhat sheepishly, “Get out of here, but it’s been a slow process.”

“Ahh, it’s...quaint,” Hosea said, lowering himself down out of the saddle of his own horse.

“You want something to eat? Drink?” you offered, stopping somewhat on the front step to glance back toward him.

Hosea shook his head, waving a hand. “No, no. It’s fine, might offend Pearson with this new stew he’d been talkin’ about.”

“Might offend him to know you’ve been fed by a traitor,” you muttered, only half serious.

However, despite how jokingly you meant the statement, the expression on Hosea’s face was too serious to make you think he caught onto that. He paused, crossing his arms as he leaned back against one of the railings on your porch.

“Is that how you’ve been seein’ yourself?” he asked, causing you to stare at him for a moment before you shrugged lightly. You decided to forgo inviting him inside, instead moving to sit down in one of the chairs on the porch with a small sigh.

“I dunno, it’s been a running thought since I left.”

“You didn’t sell us out, despite knowin’ where we were,” Hosea replied, shifting to come sit down beside you, “I’d heard that worry once or twice, but nothin’ ever came.”

“I had no plans to,” you replied, “Just...guess I always had Dutch’s loyalty speeches stuck in my head.”

Hosea let out a small hum, letting that linger for a moment before he seemed to lean back in the chair, making himself a little more comfortable.

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been spendin’ your nights in that tent?” he asked, glancing toward you as you let out a small chuckle.

“I’m an entertainer,” you said, spreading your arms out slightly before letting them rest in your lap as you leaned back in your own chair.

“You always was.”

“I spent a good couple years on the streets,” you said, “Started with little skits, songs and dance. Some poor fools would take pity, toss some money my way but it wasn’t never enough. I decided to start some magic tricks again, that got more interest. Some people picked me up after a couple years, I’ve been in and out of tents since but this one has been the longest running one in town.”

“You seemed happy to be doing that--at least until you noticed me,” Hosea replied, causing you to glance toward him again.

“It pays, and I’ve always enjoyed doing things like that.”

“Yeah...you and Trelawny were always a bit of a force to be reckoned with when he’d stay at camp,” Hosea replied around a small laugh, pulling a grin on your face as the small memories.

They were faded at the edges, the details lacking but you could still feel the closeness and companionship that camp brought. After being alone for most of your life prior, it had been something you had cherished and yet…

You didn’t really get to think on that too much, Hosea’s laughter dissolving into some rather concerning coughs. Concerned, you reached out to touch his shoulder. He let it subside, glancing back toward you with a somewhat tight smile as you removed your hand.

“I don’t remember that cough,” you commented, Hosea letting out a small sigh before he shrugged.

“We’re all dyin’ at some point, you know that,” he said, “My time’s comin’ a little quicker than expected, but…”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Ahh,” he returned with a light wave of his hand, “I’m still kickin’, so it’s nothin’ to worry about.”

“When have you ever stopped?” you replied around a somewhat tight chuckle.

“Not once, probably. All the more reason to believe me.”

“Sure…”

You let that conversation hang somewhat, lowering your gaze toward your hands. As much as things had changed, he was still the same. It was comforting to know, it made you wonder about the others. It put a warm feeling in your chest.

“I missed you,” you said after a moment.

“Missed you too, kid,” Hosea said, placing his hand on your knee as he did so. “You could always...well.”

A chuckle spilled from your lips as you raised your head to look at him again, shaking your head. “Even if it was just for a night, you know going back to camp wouldn’t be as pleasant as this.”

“Yeah, guess I was thinkin’ on different times,” he replied, pulling his hand back to meet your gaze, “Why’d you leave? I pieced together what I could, but…”

Ah, that was the question you were dreading. Yet, you had a feeling he already knew the answer. That life he led, the one they were all currently in? You just weren’t cut out for it. You knew you could still see some of the bodies and faces in your sleep sometimes, the thought making you glance away and out toward the trees as you lightly shook your head.

“I couldn’t take it, I guess…” you said, letting out a small sigh, “I appreciated Dutch picking me up off the streets like he did, and I don’t doubt I would be on this path without the help you and him had given me, but...I’m not an outlaw. I couldn’t kill, couldn’t rob. I’d come to face with someone and the words would die out, I’d freeze up. I knew it was causing issues, made me risky to take on jobs, and I couldn’t just...hang around camp for the rest of my life. That wasn’t a life for me, I had to get out. I guess I was just expecting to be talked into staying if I brought it up.”

“I guess…” Hosea said around a sigh, “I saw it, too. Couple of times.”

“It was a hard decision, I struggled with it a lot, but...I just had to.”

“Hey, I already understand,” Hosea said around an almost bitter huff, “Things now...they ain’t great. Think...well, I think I would’ve blamed you for thinkin’ about gettin’ out if you was still with us.”

There was a part of you that wanted to ask what was going on and yet--well, you knew you didn’t want to know. To worry. Yet…

“...Are you safe?”

“For now, yes,” Hosea said with a nod, dropping his gaze as he let out a small sigh through his nose, “Can’t say we always will be, though. Never had been, but it’s more apparent now than ever.”

“I…”

“Ain’t your concern,” Hosea said, placing a hand on your shoulder before he stood somewhat shakily. He glanced out toward the trees, the faint glow of the sun disappearing behind them as he let out a small sigh.

“Hosea…” you started, rising to your feet, “You--you always were like a father to me. Probably the only one I’ve ever known.”

“I know,” he said, turning to face you after he had stepped back down from the front steps of the porch, “I’ve been thinkin’ about you, too, these years. Guess...well, if we’re dyin’, I’m glad I got to see you again after everythin’.”

“Me too,” you said around that tight feeling in your chest, “I love you, always have.”

“Now that’s a poor decision right there, but I love you too. I’m...I’m proud of what you’re doin’. May have not understood your reasonin’ in the beginnin’, but I’m relieved you’re doin’ this.”

“Yeah…”

“I ain’t gonna tell the others you’re out here, either,” Hosea said, seeming to catch the question as it started to enter your head, pulling a small grin from you. “Can’t stop them from runnin’ into you like I did, but…”

“I’ll handle that if it comes to it,” you said with a nod, “Thank you, Hosea. For everything.”

You stood outside your home as you watched him get on his horse again, giving him a nod and wave as he tipped his hat at you. He lingered a moment before turning his horse and heading back down the way he had rode up with you, leaving you to watch as the man you thought of as a father disappeared down the trail.

It was hard to watch, feeling your throat tighten as you took in a couple slow breaths. Yet, much as the goodbye was hard, you knew something had been lifted.

That ache in your chest seemed to finally fall off, one that had been there for years.

#my writing.#hosea matthews x reader

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takerfoxx · 3 years

Text

Jurassic Park 4: Doki Idol Live Festival!

magic5ball submitted:

Remember how you asked me about my idea for a Jurassic Park sequel? Well, here you go:

The two velociraptors stood outside a pastel colored town house in Hokkaido prefecture, Japan. If any passerbys thought that was weird, they certainly didn’t show it. Probably because the raptors were wearing fedoras and fake mustaches, so they looked like humans. Also they had guns. Very cool, very intimidating mobster guns. A tommy gun and a sawed-off shotgun, respectively.

You needed guns, to survive Shinzo Abe’s little empire of vice and socialized medical care.

“So this is the place, huh?” muttered the velociraptor carrying the sawed-off shotgun. His thick Brooklyn accent hung in the air like concrete. “Kinda… frillier than I was expecting.”

“It better be.” Replied his companion, who sounded like your racist conservative uncle trying to impersonate that one cool guy from ‘The Godfather’ (You know, the one with the mustache who was played by Robert de Niro). “We hadda kill a whole lotta people to get this hellhole.”

Sawed-off shotgun licked his non-existent lizard lips

“But hey. That airplane stewardess tasted mighty fine goin-“

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake, would ya stop thinkin’ with your stomach and help me with this f*ckin’ knob!” cried tommy gun, trying to work the doorknob best he could with his raptor claws, which, in all honesty, wasn’t much, because raptor claws are terrible at operating things meant for human fingers. Little did he know, the door was a ‘pull’, not a ‘push.

At least he didn’t have to wait long before someone unlocked the door from the other side: another velociraptor, this one a bit on the short side. And p!ssed. Very, very p!ssed. You could tell he was the cool one because he wore an eyepatch over one eye. An eyepatch with a Captain Underpants logo on it.

“Didn’t your parent’s ever teach you idiots about using the doorbell?! I was just about to enjoy lunch with my beautiful wife and you-!“

He paused, recognizing the two figures facing him.

“Well, well, well” Said tommy gun, cocking his weapon “If it isn’t SWEET JOHN HAMMOND’S BALLSACK WHAT THE F*CK AM I LOOKING AT?!”

For the cool raptor was dressed in a gothic Lolita maid outfit, complete with a bonnet and penny loafers. Under his arm he carried a human sized pillow depicting what appeared to be a blonde floozy with massive tits.

“Oh this? This is Mami Tomoe, my beautiful wife.”

“WHAT THE F*CK!?!?” Tommy gun pulled out a flask off orange Fanta from his butthole and drank the whole thing in one go. He did NOT have time for this homosexual weeaboo nonsense! Still, he and shotgun hadn’t left a mountain of corpses the exact height and width as Mt. Fuji behind them. Too many to go back to Isla Nublar empty handed. Er, clawed. Because they were dinosaurs. Who have claws.

Shotgun took a deep breath. “What the Boss means to say is, ‘May we take refuge in this fine establishment?’”

Cool raptor opened his mouth to reveal a pistol he’d hidden there. And by hidden I mean replaced his tongue with it.

“You know, for all crap you guys used to give me in the past, I oughta pump you full of lead right here and now. Buuutttt… the lady of the house is present, and I’m not in the mood to create more work on her end. So come on in! You’re just in time for lunch.”

Lest they attract unneeded attention, the three dinosaurs hopped inside.

. . .

Lunch was omurice boba tea with a bottle of teriyaki sauce on the side. It was just boba tea, but the boba had been replaced by omurice because F-Bomb hated the flavor of boba, which he likened to rabbit crap. The teriyaki sauce was teriyaki sauce.

It was the most racist thing shotgun had ever eaten.

“Well, now that you jerks have gotten a taste of my sloppy seconds, I suppose some introductions are in order. You’ve already met my lovely wife” Cool raptor gestured to the body pillow seated next to him “So that leaves you two. Mami, meet A-Hole and D-Bag. A-Hole’s got the tommy gun, D-Bag is ridin’ her sawed off shotgun, as always. They’re old… acquaintances of mine.”

“He.” Corrected D-Bag. “I’ve been using he/him pronouns six months now.”

“Well that’s an improvement. Now instead of bein’ the Boss’ side B!tch literally, you’re just his b!tch figuratively!”

“Well screw you too, F-Bomb!” laughed the boss. “An’ speakin’ of screwing, what’s with the fruity get up? You a prostitute now or something?”

“Even better! This might surprise you, but I’ve got legitimate work now. This here’s my uniform, my uniform for MILF TIDDIES!”

A-Hole chugged his entire bottle of teriyaki sauce in one go, lest his mind implode from the sheer stupidity of that sentence.

“The Hell’s a milf tiddie!?”

“Only the best freakin’ maid café in Hoikaido, hookers!”

He gestured to a wall, covered in hundreds of photos of cute floozies dressed like they were attending a vampire’s funeral. Among them was a photo of F-Bomb in his drag, serving a deep fried hot dog to some elderly Japanese dude.

“As you can see, yours truly is serving Japan’s national desert to none other than 57th Prime Minister of Japan Shinzo Abe!”

“Hold it up. Youse been hobnobbing it with politicians?!”

“I wish! You’re thinking of Shinzo Abe, 57th Prime Minister of Japan. This guy is his twin brother. Still pretty sweet though. We DID win a Grammy for that, after all.”

A-Holes eyes bulged out of his scaly raptor head.

“YOUSE WON A GRAMMY FOR THAT?!”

“Dang right! Milf Tiddies has won sixteen Grammys since I started working there!” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. A very special piece of paper, if the six holes punched into it were any indication. “Did you know that if you win ten Grammys in a row, they give you a free orphan? That’s how the wife and I got our glorious daughter, Lil’ Nagisa!”

F-Bomb pulled a faded photo out of his wallet. A photo showing himself, his pillow wife, and a smaller body pillow of a ten-year-old moeblob wearing a Green Bay Packers cheesehead helmet.

“So youse couldn’t even conceive your own kid?” Inquired D-Bag sexily. He was munching his omurice slowly, so F-Bomb knew he was being serious.

“Are you implying I have sex with my own wife, you sick freak?! I’m a weeaboo, not some degenerate anime fanboy! Get it straight!” He instinctively cocked the pistol in his throat. It was awesome as hell.

In response, D-Bag pumped his shotgun. Loudly.

“Permission to put the sick freak out of his misery, Boss?”

“Firstly, don’t call me Boss when we’re not having anal sex. Second, no can do, my spicy lover. We need F-Bomb alive.”

F-Bomb heard all of this even though A-Hole whispered it, but he pretended not to make A-Hole feel clever.

D-Bag mumbled about how the Boss was lucky he was so mind blowing in the sack, otherwise he would have left the relationship long ago. The sack in this case being a really kinky sex dungeon. Like really kinky. So kinky even Donald Trump wouldn’t go within a mile of it. D-Bag had almost died of autoerotic asphyxiation more times than I’ve gone to the bathroom in my lifetime. That’s why he was the smartest dinosaur out of the three of them. Now where was I again?

Anyway, F-Bomb interrogated

“Alright guys, what’s the deal? I know folks who come to this socialized medical care infested hellhole, and they don’t come here just to eat omurice boba tea. You WANT me for something.”

He cocked his mouth-pistol again. Sparks flew all over the carpet, which was made of alpaca fur so it didn’t catch fire.

A-Hole scandalously kept his cool.

“It’s about Isla Nublar.”

The second those words left A-Hole’s lips, F-Bomb escorted his wife out of the kitchen, but leaned her against the kitchen door, because that’s what she would have wanted.

“Well what about it? I told ya guys, I’m done with that dump.”

“They’re puttin’ the screws on us, F-Bomb. Making us pay for eating those tourists back in the nineties.”

“And what makes you think I care? Like I said, I’m done with that place. I got a wife and kid now.”

“But F-Bomb, doesn’t the Park mean ANYTHING to ya!? What about the time we ate that park ranger that called you a girl? ‘Better than sex’ I recall you saying.”

“Nice try, but I’m not exactly in the mood to get misgendered again. Don’t you guys got any ideas that don’t involve me?”

“As a matter of fact, yours truly had this really spectacular one!”

D-Bag did a hand gesture wherein he constantly crossed his dinosaur claws across his throat rapidly in quick succession. A-Hole, being very smart, knew this meant he should continue, loudly enough so that everyone in the prefecture could hear.

“It was called ‘Trump Ballz’. We’d harvest Donald Trump’s testicles, see, and sell them to the highest bidder, so they could do whatever people do with lopped off testicles. I’m not one to judge. It was a terrific idea. I know because when I told my best friend Donald Trump about it, he said, ‘A-Hole, this is an incredible idea. Absolutely terrific! This is probably the best idea in America! You are very smart, very intelligent dinosaur! I oughta buy you a prostitute!’ Of course, we didn’t realize that Trump’s ballz don’t grow back when you lop them off. Did you know that by the way? Human testicles don’t grow back-“

F-Bomb cocked the pistol inside his throat gain, getting the Boss to shut up. This was probably the most heroic thing anyone had ever done in the history of the universe. He also asked a question:

“SO WHAT THE HECK DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH ME?!”

A-Hole vomited a severed arm and a pamphlet onto the table.

“EVERYTHING, ya WEEB trash!”

The pamphlet was for something called the Doki Idol Live Fest- DILF, for short. F-Bomb was no stranger to the DILF, but they had parted ways years ago. Six, to be exact, when he had buried Nico Yazawa’s still screaming corpse by the side of the highway. And neither was he stranger to the prize.

It looked like a beer and soda drinking baseball cap, but only to complete idiots who didn’t know crap about the Idol Life.

And F-Bomb wasn’t one of those people, er dinosaurs.

“THE MCGUFFIN OF SIN?!”

“Dam* straight! And like it or not, youse the only one with enough idol know-how to help us win it! Thing’s worth, like, a zillion dollars.”

A zillion in this case was equivalent to half a million. Still, isn’t that impressive?

F-Bomb stuck his nose in his omurice and snorted, a common intimidation tactic among velociraptors. I know because I read it in the Scientific American.

“Sorry, guys, but even with that on the line, no can do. I’m DONE with the Idol Life, any I’m not letting you filthy casuals drag me back in.” He cocked the pistol in his throat. “NOW SCRAM!”

A-Hole and D-Bag jumped out a window, so they could get the jump on a feral dog humping its’ owner. Nobody realized they were dinosaurs because of their fake mustaches, so it looked like a pair of mobsters were eating a puppy.

When they were gone, F-Bomb pranced to the bathroom, which was filled with plush alpacas he had collected over the years. So many, in fact, the bathroom did not meet OSHA compliance. Which was why F-Bomb had made it an independent nation state, only to realize that OSHA didn’t apply to him anyway, since he lived in Japan.

He had felt really stupid after that, but at least he got his own country out of it.

Anyway, he vomited sixteen liters of blood into the sink, for F-Bomb had a secret: he was dying. Back when he was a fetus in an egg in a lab on some island in the Caribean, he’d become addicted to the illegal street drug known as WEEB, and frequent use had poisoned his lungs. The doctors had given him Socialized Medical Care and four more years to live. The WEEB had taken eighty years off his life. Socialized Medical Care had borrowed his lawnmower and never given it back.

But F-Bomb also had a dream: he and his wife were going to build their own maid café, and it would be even better than MILF Tiddies. He’d already picked a title: DILF Tiddies, and it was going to be the greatest food-selling establishment in the history of Japan. Omurice boba tea was going to go global. But he’d never get the funds on time, not on his meager salary. Unless…

His beautiful wife greeted him as he exited the bathroom.

“Get a pen and some razor blades, sweetgums. I’ve got a letter to send.”

. . .

The message arrived in the neck of a mailman’s severed head. This is the traditional way velociraptors send letters to each other. I read it in a book.

D-Bag didn’t see the letter, but the look on A-Hole’s face told him everything.

“What’d I tell ya, D-Bag? Like I always say, when you’re dino you’re dino all the way, till youse dead in the ground or youse come out as gay!”

“Yeah, we really need to update those lyrics.”

End Chapter 1

...I cannot for the life of me decide if this is the greatest thing I've ever seen or the worst, but it at the very least had me staring speechless at my computer screen for a long time.

#submission #jurassic park #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #well then

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glacecakes · 4 years

Text

Alchemy Lullaby (1/?)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did... helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

I've been thinkin about this for a lil bit, and then I met Saad who encouraged my dadgene desires and well, here we are. Also shoutout to @finnoky for an ADORABLE baby Varian design that I'm imagining in this scenario lol. Be warned there's brief child abuse, only like 2 sentences of it though. And while there will be angst in this fic that's likely gonna be the only outright abuse.

I'll be honest I have an idea for an overarching plot but this may just end up being a bunch of baby Varian dad Eugene oneshots. Whatever I'm feeling. We'll see.

Eugene grumbled, muttering to himself as he walked through the streets of Corona. That’s not to say that he didn’t enjoy it here, quiiiiite the opposite. Life with Rapunzel in the castle was a dream. In the past six months Eugene hasn’t needed nor wanted anything but only Rapunzel’s happiness. If she was happy, so was he. Unfortunately, that was something he had in common with Cassandra. It was the only thing they seemed to have in common, because he refused to relate himself to that ice queen any further.

The reason why he was muttering was because he had misplaced his favorite brush (though he suspected Cassandra stole it to mess with him), and hey, Eugene, since you’re going into town, can you run a few errands for me? Don’t worry it won’t take you long, just a few dozen shops to visit while me and Rapunzel have a nice relaxing day.

Cassandra totally stole it just to get him to do her chores. Total jerk move.

He’d managed to get most of the things on her list, the only thing left was food for the animals. Apples for Max, mostly. The horse was like a chainsaw, ripping through apples like an axe through wood. It was terrifying and intriguing at the same time.

Thankfully, Cassandra supplied him with the funds and a cart in order to buy all of this stuff.

“Two crates of apples, please.” Eugene mumbled, not looking directly at the seller, as he was deep in thought, mostly cursing Cassandra. The woman, short with wild red hair, easily hauled the apples into his cart without a word. He paid her, eyes trained on the cart, when he saw it.

The crate rumbled, apples moving ever so slightly. He was a seasoned thief, he knew what that meant.

In any other situation, Eugene probably wouldn’t have cared. It was likely only a few apples. But he was cranky, and he didn’t want to be here, and also had he really gotten that sloppy? He used to be Flynn Rider, now thieves were stealing from right under his nose! It was a matter of pride, more than anything else.

“Oi!” He called. He couldn’t see the thief, but he heard the telltale squeak of a guilty ruffian, and the pattering of footsteps.

“Watch my stuff?” He asked, and before he could get an answer, he bolted after the thief. His boots thundered against the pavement, following the sound of the footsteps. They were faint, whoever this thief was must be light on their feet and damn good at going unnoticed. He weaved through the crowd, unable to catch a proper glimpse. All Eugene could see was that the figure was small, or maybe they were crouching? And they were damn fast. Eugene nearly tripped over himself on multiple occasions trying to follow them. He was getting rusty. If Cassandra was here she’d laugh her ass off.

They turned into a narrow alleyway, and Eugene followed shortly after.

The walls were tall and imposing, casting a shadow on the otherwise sunny day. This part of the capital was on the poorer side, with rundown houses and boarded windows. He hasn’t been in here in a while, now that he lived in the castle. But he’d used this general area as a hideout in his youth. He knew this road was a deadend.

“Got you,” he muttered, stalking down the road. “And just who do you think you are, stealing from… me?”

His voice trailed off, and he stared at the scene in shock.

Standing before him was a child. An incredibly tiny, incredibly scared child.

The small boy backed up in fear, practically huddled in the corner. His gangly limbs trembled like a leaf in the wind. His wide blue eyes were misting with crocodile tears, a few dripping onto his tattered clothes. He reached up to brush his hair out of his face, revealing a single shock of blue hair amongst the jet black.

Eugene took a step forward, and the boy took a step back. He whimpered. The ex-convict held up his arms in surrender. “It’s ok,” He breathed, slowly kneeling down. The child regarded him with terror and a hint of intrigue. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” He picked up the apple, brushing the dirt off. It’s red sheen caught the kid’s attention. With how small the child was, he must be malnourished. Eugene’s hand opened, and the fruit slowly rolled back over to the boy. He eyed it before snatching it up and holding it close. He looked over at Eugene, an unspoken question glinting in his eyes. Eugene nodded, and the boy dug into the apple like a feral racoon. Juice spilled onto the dusty ground as he ate.

“Woah!” Eugene chuckled. “Slow down before you choke!” The little boy giggled.

That seemed to do the trick, as the fear slowly trickled from his eyes, being replaced with a childish joy. Eugene offered him a small smile, and he got a buck-toothed grin back.

“What’s your name, kid?”

The small child wiped his mouth with a tattered sleeve. “I’m Varian,” He said.

“Nice to meet you, Varian. How old are you?”

“I’m four and a half!”

Eugene raised an eyebrow, his smile dropping down to a concerned frown. Four and a half!? That was way too young to be by himself in the streets. He and Lance didn’t leave the orphanage until they were 12! Even that was too young! And before they left, they were definitely fed more than this. The boy was a stick! Why was he out here, left to the streets to survive or die? What pushed this child to steal to survive?

He cleared his throat. If he hadn’t, he probably would have started to cry. “It’s nice to meet you, Varian. Where... where’s your parents?”

Varian shrugged, digging his bare feet into the dirt. He was completely oblivious to Eugene’s mounting concern. “Dunno. Momma told me to wait here.”

Oh thank god, he just got separated from his mom. “When was that?” If it wasn’t too long ago, maybe his mom was among the crowd?

Varian hummed, deep in thought. “Uhh... the big lantern party.”

Never mind.

Eugene blinked, trying to comprehend. “The… the lantern festival. The one that was 6 months ago. That one?” Varian nodded. Eugene fell silent, completely shell-shocked by that revelation. Taking the silence as an invitation, Varian toddled over to Eugene.

“Sorry for taking an apple, I was just really hungry…” His r’s were slightly slurred, sounding more like a w. It was painfully cute. What kind of monster would ever abandon such a cute child? Big blue eyes gazed up at Eugene. “Are you mad?” he asked.

“Mad? Why would I be mad?”

Varian frowned, fear refilling his eyes. “Momma didn’t like it when I took the apples... I was just so hungry, and she had a buncha em in a big box, but she yelled at me.” His lips wobbled, lost in the memory.

Eugene grabbed his shoulders gently. “Hey hey,” he coaxed. “You shouldn’t take without asking, but if you’re hungry, all you gotta do is ask, ok?” He bit his lip. A small part of him really wanted to believe that he’d just gotten separated from his mom, that whoever he was, he was looking for Varian, but realistically… This poor kid was in the same boat as him. Thrown out into the world and told to get used to being alone.

What should he do? He can’t exactly take Varian back to the castle, can he?

...Can he?

No, he was still new to living in the castle. Maybe if he and Rapunzel were engaged, he could have gotten away with it. But Rapunzel wasn’t ready for marriage, so there was no doubt she wasn’t ready for this, either. Even if every atom in his body screamed to not let another child fall through the cracks like he did.

He sighed. “Varian,” the little boy looked up at him. “I….” how was he supposed to tell Varian? “Can I take you somewhere safe?”

Varian cocked his head, confused.

“You… you can’t stay here on the street, you need to be cared for, fed properly.” He added the last part to entice the kid. It did the trick, as Varian nodded.

“Will you be there?” He asked.

“N… no, but I can visit?” That soothed the screaming in his mind. He held out a hand for Varian to take.

Varian pondered his offer. “Do you promise?”

“Sure kid, I promise.”

A tiny hand slipped into his. Eugene couldn’t help but marvel at the size difference.

The two entered back into the crowded streets of Corona, and it was like a switch had flipped. Instead of only speaking a few words when asked, Varian babbled happily about anything and everything he could, from why he thought the sky was blue to a raccoon he saw the other day. He was a little chatterbox, even with his cheeks stuffed with the rest of the apple. Eugene wiped up the spare juice that fell from his lips, earning him a giggle. Even the people around them cooed at how adorable he was. How adorable they were together, as a family. It pained Eugene how nice that sounded.

At some point Eugene had lifted Varian onto his shoulders, letting him see everything Corona had to offer. The excited kicks to the face were worth it.

“I was listenin’ in on one of the schools, through the window,” Varian babbled. “Did you know the clouds are made of water? They’re made of puddles! After it rains, the puddles disappear back into the sky and then come back down again!”

“Oh really?”

“Yea! The mol...molecools…” The word was stuck on his tongue. The fact that he even knew the word was impressive, what else did the kid pick up? Orphanages don’t have the best education, he knew that first hand, all that intelligence would die there…

No, stop it Eugene. You cannot take him to the castle. Even if he is adorable, and smart, and just like him…

Suddenly, he felt violent smacks to the top of his head. Varian was bouncing up and down, practically screaming in excitement.

“Momma!” He yelled, squirming off of Eugene’s shoulders before he had the ability to process what just happened.

Eugene chased after him, bumping through the shoulders of passersby, until he finally spotted Varian tugging at the pant legs of the apple seller. Varian mentioned his mom had a lot of apples… oh no.

He raced up to the stand. His cart had, thankfully, been left untouched.

“Momma, Momma, Momma, I missed you!” Varian sang. “I waited for a while, but you never came back, and I had to take food, but I know you don’t like that, I just was suuupeer hungry…” He continued his excited babbling, completely unaware of the mounting dread Eugene felt.

The woman looked down on Varian, eyes narrowing. She seemed agitated, almost furious and even… disgusted. Eugene’s heart fractured and fell deep into the pits of his stomach.

Oh no. Please, no.

Those fractures lit on fire when she saw the woman kick Varian away. The small child slid into the street with a cry, and the woman turned back up to staring into the crowd as if nothing had happened.

As if she hadn’t just kicked her son.

Eugene moved to intervene, when little Varian, undeterred, waddled back up to his mother’s side. “I’m sorry, momma,” he mumbled. For what, Eugene had no idea. The man paid the child no mind. He didn’t even blink.

“Momma?” Varian tried again. “Momma, I’m sorry I made daddy go bye bye. Can we go home?”

Eugene’s fire was extinguished almost instantly, frost curling inside of him, up his throat. He was speechless.

So was Varian’s mother. She continued to ignore her son. Varian’s lip wobbled, and a single tear fell onto the dusty path. That was followed by more, and soon Varian was letting out hiccupping sobs.

That snapped Eugene into action. He walked up to the stand, acting completely nonchalant. He didn’t thank the woman for watching his cart, he’d never forgive a mother who abandoned her son. Wordlessly, he pushed the cart forward, scooping Varian up as he moved. Varian made no effort to fight back or protest, he simply curled into the man’s arms and cried.

“I’m so sorry,” Eugene whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss into inky black hair. Varian gripped onto Eugene ever so tighter.

To hell with what Rapunzel or Cassandra, or anyone else said. He would not let the same fate that befell him repeat.

Varian had a home, starting today.

#tangled #tangled the series #tts #tts varian #varian #tangled eugene #eugene fitzherbert #team awesome #tts eugene

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

Chapter 98 - SBT

Here it is!

"G'bye, Prof L!"

"Goodbye, and remember to revise these crucial points, oui? This is fundamental geometry."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Fine, enjoy your weekend." Lucien smiled at his pupils.

"See ya!"

The kids excitedly left the room and the professor turned to wipe his blackboard clean and wash it. He sighed and looked down at his own clothes, dusting the chalk off of his suit. Lucien made sure that the room was in order before sitting down at his desk and correcting the papers of the week. He knew Mundy would be at the workshop still working and going back home alone didn’t feel right. So Lucien readied his red pen and took the first paper of the pile at the corner of his desk.

He was used to this routine. It allowed his lover to finish his day of work as well as not burden himself with too much over the weekend.

After slashes of red, crossing mistakes, underlining approximations and appreciating his pupils’ work, the Frenchman needed a cigarette. He raised his head off of his papers and lit one up. His eyes swept across the room, the wooden desks, the back breaking chairs… He smiled. Teaching was something he never expected to like. And yet, making a positive difference on those children not only earned him his bread, but filled his soul.

Children have always been an unbreakable force of nature. But dear is the price to make them thrive. They are a boiling concentrate of energy, of potential, and of hope. Lucien remembered his younger days as a rookie spy. He saw barbarism, butchery of men beyond what should exist. He saw men die on battlefields and away from them. Sometimes he himself was the one responsible for their deaths. And yet, after the deed was done, he would walk out scott free and in the streets, children would continue to play, oblivious to the danger surrounding them.

But were they really oblivious? Non, they knew that war was raging, but even the massacre of their fathers, brothers and uncles didn’t break them. It made them, like Jérémy, kinder. Those children were growing and would no doubt refuse to subject their own children to the same amount of atrocities, to the same hard childhood. Theirs had been hard enough, too hard, unfairly so.

Maybe that was what Lucien’s mother meant when she called him her reason to live. After his father’s death was confirmed, her mourning had lasted forever, but she rarely showed it to young Lucien. She always smiled to him, and turned away to cry. She always showed him the best of her. That, to him, was a proof of courage and strength beyond what he had seen among war heroes. His mother would remain, to the end, his model for endurance.

“Grand Dieu, pourquoi je pense à ça…?”

[Good God, why am I thinking about this…?]

He went to the window and drew the curtains open.

“Oh…”

His daydreaming and reminiscing had put the sun below the horizon. The streets were dark and the few people still there were moving out of the city centre. Lucien turned to the clock on the wall, above the blackboard and his eyebrows jumped. It was proper late and Mundy hadn’t come back to him yet.

“Hm.”

Lucien collected the remaining papers and put them in his leather bag before exiting the classroom. He walked to the workshop and looked through the window. A light was still on on one of the desks and a hunched silhouette so familiar to Lucien was looking down at the desk.

“Yeah, Maurice, I’ll go…”

“It is not Maurice.”

“Oh…?”

Mundy turned on his stool and his eyebrows jumped when he saw Lucien.

“What are you doin’ here?”

“I could ask you the same.” Lucien came behind his lover’s back and laced his arms around his neck. He kissed his cheek from behind. “I was waiting for you but you never came.”

“What time is it..?” Mundy looked at his watch. “Oh, bugger, I’m sorry, I didn’t see the time fly…”

“I am not surprised about this as much as I am surprised that Maurice did not kick you out of here yet.”

“He tried, but I uh… I got carried away, sorry, luv'..." Mundy lowered his head and ruffled his hair before he rubbed his eyes.

Lucien scanned the workbench and saw the pile of broken toys and small electricals. A toaster, a radio, an alarm clock…

"You have had a productive day, hm?"

"Well…" Mundy sighed. "Nah, not really."

"What is the matter, mon amour?" Lucien hugged his lover from behind and stuck his cheek to the Aussie. Mundy leaned to him and closed his eyes.

"Still thinkin' about it all. Can't really take my mind off of things."

Lucien pulled a stool and sat down next to his lover. The workshop was silent apart from the buzzing of some heater. The only light was shed by the lamp on the workbench.

"Tell me." Lucien took Mundy's hands between his own.

"It's my dad… I don't wanna sound dramatic but…" Mundy raised his eyes to Lucien. "How can I be sure he… I mean… He likes me still. Maybe he's never really seen me as his son, I mean…"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" Lucien shook his head. "Your father is a lot of things, Mundy, one of them is your father. He does love you, he just doesn't know how to contain it or show it."

"But if he really loves me, wouldn't he be happy for me?"

Lucien sighed.

"One would expect so, oui. But again, remember that you being with a man is far outside what he imagined you were. Give him some time."

"If your son was with a bloke, would you yell at him like that?" Mundy asked with a serious tone of voice.

"Of course I would not, because I myself understand the attraction towards men." Lucien answered. "But your father doesn't. It was never in his mind, he never thought it could even exist. It is a lot to take in, give him the benefit of the doubt, and trust your mother."

"Mum?"

"She said she will talk to him. Women have a way with us that is beyond our reach…" Lucien smiled sweetly.

"No."

Lucien's eyebrows jumped.

"Pardon?" He asked in his mother tongue.

"Mum's never stood up to Dad, ever. She just said that to make me feel better."

"Mundy, a lot has happened for the past few months. I am sure your mother will talk to your father."

"Nah, you saw her. She didn't say much when we were there."

"Yet what she did say had an impact on your father."

"What?" Mundy raised a curious eyebrow.

"She reminded him that by faking my own death to protect you, I wasn't so different from him. In fact, I did exactly the same thing as he did. His eyebrows twitched and his breath cut for an instant. He certainly did not like the comparison but what could he argue? It was the plain truth." Lucien explained.

"Still. Not convinced Mum would change his mind."

"Stubborn as he is, she certainly will not. However," Lucien tilted his lover's chin up with a gentle index finger. "She will plant the seed of doubt."

Mundy looked away.

"Yeah, well… Can't help thinkin' that he doesn't really love me."

"Why?"

"If… If you got a son, and you got plans for him but he keeps on not goin' according to them, wouldn't you lose hope at some point and just say 'oh, right, fuck it…'?"

"Non. I did not conceive a human being, the most fragile of creatures, to not carry the responsibility of them all my life until I am six feet under ground." Lucien answered in one go.

"But he didn't!" Mundy raised his arms before they flopped to his thighs again. "He didn't conceive me! He found me and… and he took pity on me…" He admitted, muttering in his breath.

Lucien put his hands on Mundy's shoulders.

"He did take you in, didn't he?"

"Mh."

"Did he, yes or no?" Lucien repeated, staring at Mundy in the eye.

"Yeah…"

"Did he raise you?"

"Yeah…"

"Did he ask you to stop hunting because he was scared for you?"

Mundy raised his eyes to Lucien.

"Yeah, he did…"

"This is how you know he loves you. His anger, his frustration are also proof, albeit twisted, of him caring about you. If he didn't care, then he wouldn't become half as angry as he is, would he?"

"Yeah but… You keep on sayin' he wants me to get a sheila and stuff to be happy. So it'd make sense to think that what he wants at the end of the day is for me to be happy, right?"

"Oui."

"Then why the hell isn't he now?!" Mundy asked. "I'm happy, I've managed, I-I've done everythin' and he can't be happy!"

Lucien sighed and frowned.

"I do not know." The ex-spy admitted. "I just want you to keep some hopes up, Mundy. From what I saw of your father, he is a tough man, strict on his ideas and wouldn't change them for the world. But one cannot stop hoping."

"Think I just might. I'm tired of hoping. It's so bloody tirin'..." Mundy rubbed his face with his rough hands.

Lucien's eyebrows relaxed.

"Then, stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop hoping."

"But you just said that I should keep my hopes up?!"

"And you answered that you don't want to, so just stop."

Mundy stared in Lucien's eyes. It lasted a few seconds before he looked away and sighed.

"I can't."

"Then, keep some hopes up, but don't let it eat you on the inside. Give your mother some time to work her magic on him. Things are not what they were more than a decade ago. Your mother has lost you once. She knows what it feels to lose you and from how quickly she accepted us, she is ready to make a lot of sacrifices before she loses you again."

"Yeah but if she has to choose, she'll go with him." Mundy said. "And Dad would say that the choice is in my hands. Either stay with you and lose him, or the other way around…" Mundy put his hands on his face.

"I wouldn't be so sure." Lucien answered, kissing his head. "And if it ever boiled down to that, I will be where you want me to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mundy raised his head to his lover.

"That means that, as I said all that time ago, more than year ago now, making me happy is something that I cannot do. Making you happy however, is all I ever think about. And so, if you ever felt like you have to make a choice, whatever you choose, I will do what leads to your happiness."

"Lu'... Are you sayin' that you'd… You'd leave me?"

Their eyes met and hung there. Lucien took a deep breath and cupped Mundy's face in his hands. He leaned forward and they rested their foreheads against each other.

"I will do whatever to make you the happiest of men alive on this Earth, Mundy, do you hear me?" They closed their eyes and silent tears ran along their cheeks. "I know how tired you are to run after your father, after his blessing and I understand it… I… I understand it…" Lucien put a hand on his mouth, his fingers were shaking. "This is ridiculous… I am crying now… I apologise…"

"Lu'...?" Mundy pleaded with a broken voice. "Lu', no…"

"Non, Mundy… Your family is… It is very important to you and I understand that. You cannot replace your family." Lucien sniffled.

"Can't replace you either!" Mundy exclaimed. "I can't! Bloody can't!" He put his hands on Lucien's waist and stood up to pull him into an embrace. "I won't leave you, love, I won't…! You left me once and I couldn't live anymore, no, please…"

"Mundy, I just want you to know" Lucien's breath cut. He sniffled and went on, his eyes still closed. "I just want you to know that… Whatever you do, I will support you… It might be hard for the both of us, but I will… I will…"

"Shut up… Shut up, I love you…" Mundy pulled Lucien to him in one go and the pin in his hair sank, freeing his long locks of salt and pepper. Mundy slid his hand under Lucien's hair, behind his head and pulled him close. "No, I won't choose. I'm tired of feelin' like shit as if it's my fault. It's not my fault, it's no one's fault, there isn't any fault… I just love you…"

"I love you too." Lucien clung to his lover's chest, digging his fingers hard, as if Mundy was slipping away from him already. "I… I never thought I could love this way… Thank you…"

The Frenchman's tears wetted the Aussie's polo shirt but neither of them cared. Mundy was almost more saddened by Lucien's tears than by his own predicament. It was rare to see Lucien in tears, especially outside of the intimacy of the sheets. Mundy clung back to his lover, his silk hair and his thin waist.

"I hope Mum'll help, I really do…"

"Your mother is very close to you, in her heart." Lucien wiped his tears with a handkerchief and then raised it to Mundy's face to wipe him. "She will do any and everything she can to avoid the choice for you and for her. Moreover, she loves you with all that you bring with you." Lucien said and held Mundy's hand again. "The other day, she asked me to teach her how to cook a ratatouille the way that you like it." He smiled.

Mundy raised tired eyes to his lover, yet his lips pursed into a smile too.

"She loves you, Mundy. She took you in, not out of pity, but because in her heart, the moment she saw you, she knew." Lucien poked Mundy's chest.

"She knew what?"

Lucien raised his hand to Mundy cheek and gently stroked it with his thumb.

"That she was your mother."

-- Earlier, in the street --

"How long've you known?"

"Very long. Almost as early as it started."

"Pfff…"

"But believe me, they didn't fall in each other's arms at first sight, far from it."

"Mmh…"

The old man grumbled, a bit disgusted, and walked in circles in the dark room. His fists were clenched.

"Were you goin' to tell me?"

"No, why would I?" The king of the beggars asked. "It is none of my business, Mike." Maurice paused. "Neither is it yours, strictly speaking."

Mike froze and turned to the beggar in the long, ragged clothes.

"Course it is! It's my bloody son!"

"What do you want from me?" Maurice asked.

"Is it botherin' only just me?!"

"It depends. What does Caroline think?"

"She's fine with it! Goes to visit them, stays for dinner and all! Pfff…" Mike removed his hat and shook his head. "How could we go so wrong with that kid…?"

"Well, then, yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, it is bothering only you." Maurice answered.

"Maurice…!"

"Fine," The tall man stood up from his throne and faced Mike. "What is it? You are unhappy about their relationship."

"Yeah, that's puttin' it mildly!" He exclaimed, looking up at the taller man.

"And why is that? They are grown, reasonable men, and they both are doing it of their own accord. None is forcing the other."

"Maurice, it's blokes."

"Yes, exactly! They are grown and old enough to know what suits them best. It just so happens that it is each other!"

Mike sighed.

"He told me you know him for service, right?"

"Who?"

"That Lucien guy."

"Indeed, I do."

Mike walked to a chair and sat down, in front of the empty throne.

"Tell me about him. I wanna know what kind of a man he is."

"Ah." Maurice took a seat opposite the old man and cleared his throat. "I hope you don't have anything planned for the next hour or so."

"What?"

And Maurice recited Lucien's life as best as he knew it. Of course, the ex-spy had left areas of shadow and doubt in his official files, such that Maurice couldn't exactly say where he came from, or his family whereabouts. But the key message was there. Lucien was a selfless war hero who turned his back to the country that he helped to create, because that same country had attempted to backstab him, ironically enough.

"Yeah, well…" Mike tried to feel indifferent to it all. "Does Micky know all that?"

"He was there for his fake funeral." Maurice answered. "For which war veterans flew from across the world immediately, without receiving formal notice. All they heard was the whispers in the air flying from mouth to ear and spreading faster than light."

Mike frowned.

"Michael," Maurice started and Mike raised his eyes to him. "What is the problem?"

The old man put a hand on his tired head and shook it.

"I… I don't know anymore. Caroline tells me all these things about how happy Micky is, how much he smiles and laughs now, how… cute they are together."

"You don't see it yourself? You think she is lying?"

"No, I know she's not lying. I know she's tellin' me the truth, I saw it with my own eyes. Never saw Micky look at someone the way he looks at him."

"But…?" Maurice anticipated.

"It's wild. A man with another man? Pfff, I wouldn't care if it wasn't my own Micky."

"When Lucien died, Mundy broke as hard as he did when you supposedly died. I had to push him to work, because his mind was in shambles, I had to push him to continue living even."

"He wanted to…?" Mike asked, frightened of what that last sentence implied.

"I remember his words when Lucien's death was made official. 'It's happened twice, I don't want to live this shit life anymore.'.... God knows what he would have done if not for one reason."

"What was it?"

"Lucien had a cat, back then a kitten. He asked me to tell Mundy that he wanted no one else but him to take care of her."

"He… He stayed alive for a cat?"

"No, Michael." Maurice answered. "He stayed alive for Lucien's cat. And that has made all the difference."

Mike sighed and wiped his face as Maurice patted his shoulder.

-- Mundy and Lucien's house, a few days later --

Lucien looked at Mundy. They were both at the table, having lunch. The Aussie had had trouble sleeping ever since that night at his parents, waking up repeatedly through the night. Holding Lucien or being held by him wasn't enough to bring him comfort.

Lucien had woken up every time with his lover. He would hold his head against his own chest and kiss him back to sleep. Sometimes, he would get out of bed and go to the kitchen to prepare a tray with a glass of milk and biscuits or something to pass the time with Mundy before both decided to lie down and try to sleep again.

Each time they would get a visit from Caroline, Mundy's face would brighten a bit, every time they did something just for themselves too. But it was always only temporary. Mundy's mood would always gently slide down the dangerous slope that his darker thoughts paved.

It was high time that the Frenchman tried to take his lover's mind away from his problems, for one night at least.

"Will you go back working this afternoon?" He asked and Mundy nodded.

"Yeah. Gotta finish some stuff. You done with your classes?"

"Oui, I am."

The concerto of cutlery on plates filled the air.

"Mundy?"

"Mh?"

"When you come back home tonight, put on a suit."

The Aussie frowned.

"What? Why?"

"Put on a suit and wait for one of Maurice's boys. They will tell you where to go. You may take the motorcycle to go there."

Mundy raised his head from his plate.

"Where am I goin'? You won't come with me?"

"Non, I won't."

"Lu', what is it?" Mundy asked, genuinely at a loss as to what to expect.

The Frenchman smirked as he wiped the corners of his mouth elegantly with a napkin.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you."

-- Later that day --

"What are you doing still here?" Maurice pushed the workshop's door and peeked his head in.

"Workin'."

The king of the beggars fully entered the room and went to put a hand on Mundy's shoulder.

"You should go, L is waiting."

"Waitin'? Oh, yeah, I forgot… I need to go back home and wear a suit, he said."

"Yes, and when you are all set, go to the Maravilloso."

"The Brazilian place?" Mundy's eyebrows jumped.

"Yes." Maurice answered.

"Right…" Mundy shifted away from his stool and Maurice tapped on his shoulder. "What?"

"Have fun."

"I'll try."

Mundy had gone back home and quickly took a shower.

"Meow? Meoow?"

"Yeah, babies. C'mere… I'll give you your food…" Mundy took the stairs down and went to the cats' bowls. "Hold on… You have food and water? Why're you following me everywhere like that?" He asked, adjusting the towel around his waist.

"Meow…!" Perle stood up on her back legs and Mundy knelt down.

"What is it? Oh…" Both cats were begging for pets, hugs and cuddles. The Aussie ended up sitting on the floor and taking care of them for a while. "Hey, babies… What's wrong with you?"

"Meow…" Perle gently headbutted Mundy's chest while Soot's ears flopped down.

"What is it? What's the problem, eh?"��

"Meow." Soot answered and raised his paw to lay it flat on Mundy's chest. Perle copied him.

"Me? Somethin's wrong with me? What did I do?"

"Meow…" Both meowed long and sad.

"Yeah, I might've hugged you less over the past week or so, I'm sorry. C'mere both of ya…" He hugged them both, Perle in one arm and Soot in the other. He lowered his head and headbutted them softly while hearing them pur. "I'm so sorry, babies…"

He whispered his apologies in kisses, cuddles and scratches until Perle broke the embrace and trotted away.

"Meow?" Soot asked.

"Meow…" She swang her fluffy white tail and the male followed up the stairs.

"Right, now… Off to put on a suit." He climbed the stairs after the slithering black and white clouds and headed straight for his room. After opening the cupboard and looking around, he found that beige suit that Lucien had ordered and got delivered to him more than a year ago now. Mundy smiled in nostalgia and took it out of its hanger.

The Aussie started with the white shirt and beige trousers, as he remembered the last time he had worn that attire. It was to go and see Lulu, back when Lulu wasn't L yet. Ah, those days… Who would have thought that down a year from then, L and M would be together, inseparable and as close as they were in the alphabet…

Then came the bowtie and vest, before he threw the jacket on his shoulders.

"Meow!"

"What?" Mundy looked on his bed. Perle was sitting, observing him, while Soot was lying down.

"Meow."

"Love you too, baby, but Dad's gotta go. Papa'll be home hopefully, or somethin'... I don't really know what's happenin', Papa needs me to be somewhere."

When the words exited his mouth and he heard himself, Mundy froze.

I don't really know what's happenin', Papa needs me to be somewhere.

Now take that sentence, swap Papa for L and that was time travel, right there. That was exactly how their relationship had started, even if it was just professional. L was pulling the reins and sending the Aussie left and right where he needed him to be. And Mundy had always followed whatever Professor Ski told him to, blindly. He smiled out of nostalgia.

"Right, I'm all set. Babies, you behave and don't go to bed too late, yeah?"

"Meow!" Perle shouted.

"Oi! Why're you yellin'?"

"Meow…!" She stood on her back legs and planted her claws on his legs, to climb him.

"Claws, claws! Ouch! Let me come down to you…! There, what is it?"

Perle started to bathe Mundy's face.

"Yeah, I showered and shaved, no need to clean me more, baby… Oh?"

"Meow…" She was now doing his hair. Mlem, mlem, mlem…

"Want me to comb it better?"

"Meow." She said and sat down, backing off of Mundy's head.

"Alright, I'll go back to the bathroom, then…"

A minute later, Mundy came back to the front door and put his shoes on. He heard the trotting of soft paws on the floor.

"Better now?"

"Meow." Perle confirmed.

"Thanks, baby, c'mere." He cupped her head and kissed her brow. When he heard the sound of the kiss, the black cat slithered from the living room to his Dad.

"Meow?" He asked.

"Course you can get a kiss, c'mere." Mundy opened his hands and Soot came closer. He brushed himself on his master while Mundy kissed him. "There we are, now, can I go? Papa's waitin'."

"Meow." Both cats sat and looked up at their Dad who unlocked the door.

"You be good babies, yeah?"

"Meow." They both answered.

"Right, see ya later."

The Aussie shut the door and went to the motorcycle.

"Well, guess I'm off to the Brazilian steakhouse then…"

He put on his helmet and the engine purred.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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joyful-soul-collector · 4 years

Text

No problem, kid

Prompt: Fainting

@canonismybitch asked: CONGRATULATIONS ON 400 FOLLOWERS!!! Could I request Fainting for IronDad? (I'm a sucker for Peter whump ngl) also, pretty please could you add me to your tag list?

Thank you so much for requesting this, it was so fun to write! And as you already know by now, yes, you have been added to the tag list ;]

Irondad Tag List: @phahbiyah @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @clevermuffinalmondpeach @stuck-in-a-fictional-universe @canonismybitch @freckledmountain @hold-our-destiny + @badthingshappenbingo

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

TWs: Fainting obviously, some negative self-talk, and while no one has an eating disorder in this fic, I do describe his hunger a lot so if you're triggered by that you may want to be careful

Read on Ao3

Peter hated gym. You’d think that after getting superstrength it’d be more fun, but it was honestly no better than before. At least, not since the “no food outside the cafeteria” rule had been implemented. Apparently a lot of kids thought it was funny to hide food in cupboards so it would mold and rot in there, and the school banned eating any food outside the cafeteria.

This wasn’t a big deal for anyone except for Peter. His enhanced metabolism burned so fast that Tony had compared it to Captain America’s, and Peter had to eat every hour to keep up with it. Hourlies, he called them. Normally you’d never see Peter without a snack in his hand, usually a special protein bar made specifically for his needs, but now Peter’s hands and belly were often empty.

Especially in gym class. Gym was his last class of the day, which meant by now his lunch had been hours ago and his stomach was screaming with hunger. He’d tried to sneak food in the locker room but he was caught almost every time as apparently the lockers were the place the most rotten food had been found, so the teachers kept an extra close eye out.

So here he was, running back and forth across the gym, his stomach rumbling so loud Ned could hear it beside him.

“Jesus Peter,” Ned muttered as his belly gave a particularly loud growl. “Are you like, okay?”

“No, I’m fucking starving,” Peter said, rubbing his middle as it spasmed painfully. “God I hate this. It’s only been a week and I feel like I’m going insane.”

“This can’t be good for you Peter, you should really tell someone,” Ned said worriedly. “I really don’t like seeing you going hungry like this.” Peter gave a small chuckle as they started running again.

“I tried, they didn’t listen to me. But I’m alright, I’m Spider-Man, a little hunger can’t stop me,” he said. But when his stomach rumbled so loud Peter saw a couple people glance at him, Ned raised his eyebrows.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe that was ‘a little hunger’,” he said. Peter’s face went red and he looked away, quiet. Well, quiet except for his belly.

They ran in relative silence for a few minutes, until somehow, Peter actually started to feel worse. Something he didn’t actually know was possible.

His head started pounding and his vision began swimming lazily as a wave of nausea overtook him. Peter stumbled, and was buffeted to the side by several runners behind him, almost falling over until Ned caught him by the elbows.

“Peter? Peter are you okay!?” he asked, the look of worry distorted in Peter’s eyes.

“I-I think I’m gonna pass out,” Peter mumbled. Peter fell against the wall and slid into a sitting position, clutching his face in his hands as the world swam around him.

“Shit, shit, I knew this was gonna happen,” Ned said. “Okay, let’s get you to the nurse.”

Peter nodded, and stood up.

But suddenly, the world was black, and the biting hunger was gone.

~~~

“Kid. Kid, wake up, c’mon Pete, let’s get you back to the tower,” said a voice, slowly pulling Peter back to consciousness.

“Mmm?” Peter opened his eyes to find a slightly blurry, concerned face looking down at him. Tony. “Oh. Hey, Tony.”

The frown in Tony’s brow deepened and he made a noise of sympathy.

“Jeez, you really are sick, aren’t you? Why did you go to school like this?” Peter raised his eyebrows.

“They told you I was sick?” he mumbled, sitting up and massaging his stomach as the deep ache returned.

“What else would they have told me?” Tony asked. Peter sighed and shook his head.

“Let’s just go. I’ll explain when we get in the car,” he muttered. Peter pushed himself up with shaking arms and Tony gently put his hand under one of his elbows to help him up.

“You’re shaking,” Tony said, concern now filling his voice.

“I know,” Peter said grimly. “I just wanna get out of here.” Tony opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it and quickly started the process of signing Peter out of school. Peter sat at one of the chairs in the main office, hugging his backpack to his aching tummy, willing it not to growl in the quiet room.

Eventually they were able to leave, and they made their way as quickly as they could to the car Tony had parked out front. Tony took his backpack and put it in the trunk while Peter eased himself into the passenger seat. He pressed his fingers deep into his belly as it cramped with hunger.

“I know, I know,” he muttered to his stomach, hearing the trunk slam behind him. “We’ll eat in a little bit. Not long now.” Tony sat in the driver's seat a second later, and looked at Peter with concern.

“Alright kid. Out with it, what’s going on?” he said, putting on hand comfortingly on Peter’s knee. Peter opened his mouth, but his stomach interrupted him with a loud growl.

It was so loud Peter could feel the empty rumbles against his palms, and he closed his eyes in embarrassment and misery, curling in on himself and wishing he would sink into the earth forever.

“Jesus… kid was that your stomach?” he heard Tony say, the sympathy in his voice making Peter’s ears turn red.

“I-I haven’t eaten anything since lunch,” Peter muttered. “That’s why I passed out.” He suddenly felt his eyes start to sting. God this was such a stupid thing to cry about. He’s just hungry, this isn’t the end of the world, so why does he feel so awful?

“Oh, oh god Peter, okay, it’ll be alright kid, let’s just get you something to eat then, yeah?” Tony said, quickly starting up the car and driving out of the parking lot. Peter just nodded, unable to trust his voice to keep steady and trying his best not to let the tears spill from his eyes. It was another minute before Tony spoke again.

“Why did the school tell me you were just sick? Why haven’t you eaten in so long, kid? We set up your Hourlies months ago, and with how you look right now I’d have a hard time believing you just forgot--”

“The school made a rule that we can’t eat outside the cafeteria. So the only times I’ve been able to eat are before school, at lunch, and sometimes I can sneak something between classes in the bathroom if I have enough time. They probably told you I was sick because no one else has passed out from hunger yet, so they assumed I was just the idiot who decided to go to school sick,” Peter said, massaging his tummy as it continued to spasm and gurgle. “Though I have a feeling Ned told them what happened and they just ignored him. Teachers don’t tend to listen to us. I even tried to tell a teacher I had some sort of stomach condition so I had to eat more often, but they just started pressing for details and saying they wanted to get a doctors note and permission from Aunt May and all this shit and I just… honestly I just decided to give up and deal with it. Even though I know Aunt May would give permission, I can’t get a doctor’s note, and I hate the idea of being singled out as The One Kid who’s allowed to eat in class. That’s a great way to get everyone to have a grudge against you.”

“Jeez…” Tony said. “How long has this been going on?”

“A week,” Peter muttered.

“Kid, are you telling me you’ve been going hungry like this for a whole week? Why didn’t you tell me?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know, I just… after getting told no by the teacher I just didn’t bother. I haven’t been able to focus or think all week and I just… I didn’t even consider it. I’m sorry,” Peter said. Tony sighed and gave him a small pat on the shoulder.

“It’s alright, nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault,” he said, turning into the parking lot of a McDonalds. “A couple Big Macs you’re thinkin’ kid?” he asked. Peter’s belly answered with a deep grumble, and Tony nodded. “Four then. With fries and a milkshake.”

Peter nodded shyly, and Tony gave him an encouraging smile as he got out of the car and hurried to the building to order Peter’s food.

Peter took a deep breath, curling in on himself and hugging his stomach, clenching his teeth as more tears stung his eyes, eventually spilling out and rolling down his face.

“Dammit, no, stop it, stop it stop it stop it, not again,” Peter muttered, wiping his eyes furiously on his sleeves.

Peter had cried almost every day since the ban had started, and honestly couldn’t figure out why. The first time happened at lunch, and he was barely able to keep his composure before rushing to the bathroom and bursting into tears. Another time had actually been at breakfast oddly enough, Aunt May had almost had him stay home from school. The time before now had been yesterday when he got home, tears rolling silently down his face as he dragged several containers of food out of the fridge.

“Stop it, what’s wrong with you, you’re fine, stop being so stupid Peter, god. This isn’t something you cry over, you’re just hungry, you’re not dying, so stop being a fucking idiot--” The sound of the car door opening startled him into silence, and he looked up in surprise.

“Alright kiddo, I got your food, I don’t often like using the ‘I’m famous’ card but considering the circumstances I thought we should be fast--” he cut off as he caught sight of Peter’s face. “Oh Pete, are you crying?”

“No! No, I-I’m fine, it’s stupid, I--”

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s okay,” Tony said softly, sitting down and shutting the door. He held out the bag and Peter felt his mouth watering fervently as the smell hit his nose. His belly clenched hard and he quickly took the bag, trembling fingers wrapping around the greasy burger and opening it.

The first bite sent Peter’s tummy into a frenzy, begging loudly for more, which he was all too happy to oblige. He started breathing heavily as he stuffed more food into his mouth, the tears spilling out of his eyes causing small whines of frustration between bites.

And the tears only increased when Tony smoothed a hand on his back and started whispering words of comfort to him.

“It’s okay buddy, you’re gonna be alright,” he said softly. Peter finished the burger a minute later, and he sat for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, gripping his knees and taking several slow, deep breaths. He was nowhere near satisfied, he still had three burgers, fries, and a milkshake left after all, but he finally felt well enough for the tears to ease a bit and let him speak.

“I… I’m sorry I cried like that, I don’t know what’s wrong with me--”

“Woah, hey, no it’s okay to cry Pete, you’re alright,” Tony said, rubbing more circles into Peter’s back.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just I don’t do that usually, but I’ve just been it doing all week and I don’t understand--”

“Peter, you haven’t been able to properly eat for a week. That really messes with you, both physically and emotionally. Your body and mind are overwhelmed and honestly, when that happens, you cry. Anyone who’s in your position would feel the same,” he said. Tony moved his hand from Peter’s back and put it under his chin, coaxing him to look up. “It’s okay, kiddo. You’re not being irrational. You just get some more food in your belly, and I’ll get us home, okay?”

Peter sniffed and nodded with a watery smile. Tony brushed a tear from Peter’s cheek and smiled back before starting the car.

Peter finished another burger by the time they got to the tower, now feeling well enough to walk without his knees shaking. When they got to the living quarters they sat on the couch together, Peter tucked safely under Tony’s arm, munching happily on his burger and dipping his fries in his milkshake while they watched Star Wars. Peter went to sleep with his stomach heavy and full of food, and when he went back to school on Monday, the ban had been lifted for reasons nobody seemed to know.

Peter sent Tony a thank you text that morning, crunching down happily on a granola bar in homeroom.

No problem, kid.

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