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megalony · 1 year

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Look at us- Part 5

Another part in my Henry Cavill series that I hope everyone is liking so far, any feedback is greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @dreaming-about-fanfictions @afro-hispwriter

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Summary: After losing a baby a few months ago, (Y/n) is still suffering horrible back pains that she needs strong painkillers to manage. But she has to be okay and in control to look after her family and she knows she is relying too much on pills to gain back her life and control.

Enjoy.

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"I'll help you up mummy," Reaching down, Ella wrapped her small hands around (Y/n)'s lower arm and tried tugging on her lifeless limb to try and get her up off the floor but it wasn't working. All she ended up doing was causing (Y/n) to sway to the right and it wasn't helpful.

"Ella no." (Y/n) roughly pulled her arm back to her chest and turned her head away so Ella wouldn't see her cry.

(Y/n) knew Ella was only trying to help and in any other circumstance she would have loved her for it. But right now, when (Y/n) was curled up on the living room floor, she just wanted Ella to leave her alone. It was hard for (Y/n) to think that because she loved all her children but when she was crippled with pain she didn't want Ella pulling on her and trying to move her when all she was doing was causing (Y/n) further pain.

"But nanny's coming, mummy get up!"

When Ella tried again to pull on (Y/n)'s arm, she could have screamed the house down at how it made her back twinge in agony. But she didn't. She bit down on her tongue until it started to bleed and coiled her arms around her chest.

"Ella leave mum alone. Nan's outside, go let her in." Brodie reached over and tapped Ella on the shoulder and turned her in the direction of the door to get her to leave (Y/n) alone. He knew that whenever (Y/n) was crying, they needed to leave her alone and Henry had told him if (Y/n) couldn't get up if her back was hurting then they should leave her be and find him instead.

With a huff, Ella turned and scuttled out of the room to go and open the front door, ready for their nanna to come in with Brodie not far behind. Henry's mum was having the kids for the day and (Y/n) couldn't have been more grateful.

Since four o'clock in the morning, (Y/n) had been moping about downstairs, not knowing what to do with herself. The doctor had given her clear instructions, one tablet of tramadol in the morning and then after tomorrow, she was taking just one tablet every other day for a week and then that was it, she would be weened off them for good.

Without the tablets, sleeping was avoiding her like the plague and this morning (Y/n) had had enough. She came downstairs and tried to sleep on the sofa, then moved to the chair but it was no use, her back wouldn't relent or be at ease. She had walked around hunched over all morning, mopping the floors, tidying the kitchen cupboards, tidying the toys in the play room, cleaning the conservatory. the house was spotless and breakfast was ready by the time everyone was up and awake and (Y/n) was in agony.

Henry asked his mum to have the kids for the day when he saw the state of his wife who couldn't stand up straight no matter how hard she tried. He had managed to get an emergency appointment at the doctors for tomorrow morning which couldn't come soon enough because they both knew (Y/n) couldn't carry on like this.

Moving her hands out, (Y/n) grabbed her bag that Brodie had brought her earlier and sat it on her lap. Her eyes were so blurry with tears that she could barely see properly. Moving the small zipper in the lining of her bag, (Y/n) felt a small glimmer of hope when she found a small silver packet of tablets.

She hoped to God it was some tramadol that she had left in here in case she got striked down with pain when she was out and about.

(Y/n) couldn't see properly to pop them out and she didn't know how many were in her hand before she clenched her hand into the tightest fist possible and crushed them into powdered dust. If they were broken down, they would get into her system quicker and she needed some sort of relief as fast as possible.

Chugging them down without a drink felt awful, her throat clenched, her chest convulsed and she gagged at the horrid taste it left in her mouth but the after effects would be worth it. The relief, would be worth it.

"Brodie can you go and get Jesse ready, Ella go put your shoes on."

(Y/n) swallowed a groan and turned her head to bury her face in the crook of her arm when she could hear footsteps advancing towards her. She loved Lisa like she was her own mother but (Y/n) didn't want her to see her like this, she hated anyone but Henry seeing her upset and broken down. She just wanted Lisa to take the kids away so none of them would witness her like this.

When she felt a hand resting on her shoulder, (Y/n) almost cowered back. Her body was coiled together, knees pressed to her stomach, her arms crossed on the sofa and her head buried in the crook of her elbow to try and hide herself away from everyone.

"Oh, honey. Why don't you try sitting on the sofa instead of the floor?"

After a moment, (Y/n) felt Lisa kneel down beside her and tentatively wrap her arms around her and it was ever so slightly soothing. But it did nothing to relieve her of the pain in her back and (Y/n) wanted to disappear, she didn't want comforting. She couldn't sit on the sofa because she couldn't sit up, her back was locked in place and she couldn't lie down on the sofa because it caused too much pain to handle.

"No- just leave me here."

A bubbling cry burned at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she choked down on her sobs, wiping her eyes on her sleeve but now she was crying, she just couldn't stop. her body began to shake and she felt Lisa holding her tighter, trying to soothe her.

"Shh, hey, it's alright. Ooh, I don't want to just leave you down here." Lisa lightly tutted in sympathy and pressed her forehead against the side of (Y/n)'s head. She couldn't just walk away and take the kids when (Y/n) was sat on the floor in absolute agony, it didn't feel right and it wasn't fair. She felt like she needed to do something, whether that was trying to help (Y/n) get comfy on the sofa or finding her a drink and some painkillers to take the edge off. (Y/n) was a daughter to her and she couldn't stand to see any of her children in pain like this.

"Mama, mama, mama!" The word bubbled past Jesse's lips followed by a round of hyper clapping and some giggles before the three-year-old appeared behind them like a shadow.

His dark brown curls flopped around his head like a miniature Henry and he wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s neck, lightly shaking her in his way of hugging. (Y/n) realised it must seem like she was trying to play a game with him, maybe he thought she was playing peek-a-boo or hide and seek with the way she curled up and hiding her face. Whatever he was thinking, the way he shouted her name- one of the very few words he could say- and how he hugged her just made (Y/n) cry harder.

"I'll go get the children ready to go, come here Jesse. Henry, please come and help (Y/n)."

Lisa pressed a kiss to the side of (Y/n)'s head before she gently picked Jesse up and settled him on her hip, noticing Brodie must have got him ready as he was in his dinosaur shoes and matching coat.

"Baby I'm here..." Henry kissed Jesse and his mother as he passed them in the hallway before he knelt down beside (Y/n).

He wasn't sure what he could do to help when she was curled away from him in a ball on the floor. He knew she couldn't stand up straight and he knew she was in pain. What should he do, try and sit her down on the sofa? Get her up and take her to the emergency room? Maybe try and see if she could lay down curled up in bed for a while?

"Can I touch you?" He didn't want to just grab her in case she was in too much pain to be held tenderly.

When (Y/n) nodded, Henry gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away from the sofa.

"I'm gonna try something, hold onto my arm as tightly as you want and take a deep breath."

Moving around a little, Henry placed one arm around (Y/n)'s front and he pressed his other hand against her back between her shoulder blades. When he felt (Y/n)'s hands holding onto his bicep, he very slowly pushed his arm against her chest and tilted her backwards so she was very slowly straightening her spine up. The clicking sound that echoed in the room was shuddering and the feeling of her spine suddenly snapping back into place made Henry gag. But it was (Y/n)'s shriek that made his blood curdle like sour milk.

He didn't want to hurt her but he knew the longer she stayed stooped over, the worse it would be to try and straighten her up again. But she was sitting up now, something she hadn't been able to do since early last night.

"Do you want me to take you to A&E? If you want to we'll go right now." Henry didn't want to just put (Y/n) in the car and drive there if she felt she might feel a bit better now. He trusted her judgement of her pain scale and whether she wanted to see if they could offer any sort of help or not. The last time they went to the hospital for her back pain Henry almost punched the doctor with how rude she had been and she ended up sending them home without any help at all.

(Y/n) shook her head before she buried her face between his chest and bicep, gripping his arm so much that he could feel it tingling from the blood being restricted.

"Do you want to try lay down in bed?"

She nodded. At this point, she felt like passing out, she would do anything Henry suggested because she was feeling sick, drowsy, numb, pain-riddled and broken all at once. She didn't quarrel when he picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the living room. She buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms very tightly around his neck, whimpering every now and then but he quietly shushed her with his lips against her temple.

Heading into their bedroom, Henry pressed his knees into the side of the bed so he could carefully lower (Y/n) down on the bed and turn her so she was laying on her side. He pressed a pillow against her lower back and one underneath her thighs to try and make sure any tension was relieved from her back.

"Stay, please." Her hand grabbed his wrist with such force it took Henry by surprise but his features softened and he made quick work of climbing into bed behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling into her hair when (Y/n) grabbed his hand and held it to her chest. "Thank you... I'm sorry I-"

"Babygirl, please don't apologise, you haven't done anything. I promised I'd always look after you, didn't I?"

Henry couldn't tell if (Y/n) was agreeing with him, slowly dozing off to sleep or silently disagreeing. She nuzzled her lips against his knuckles and hummed quietly so he guessed his words quelled her worries. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed her flushed skin.

"Go to sleep, baby."

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A tired groan escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to open her eyes but they felt weighed down like they were made of stone. When her eyes finally managed to open, everything was blurry.

How long had she been asleep?

When (Y/n) tried to move and flop an arm behind her, a bubble of disappointment welled up in her chest when she realised she was alone in bed. Henry had left her. Maybe it was dinner time and he was getting something to eat or maybe he was watching tv downstairs, he didn't like to sleep during the day unless he'd been travelling through the night and didn't sleep.

Sitting up proved to be more of a challenge than (Y/n) had ever faced before. She couldn't seem to hold her head up properly, it felt so heavy and it wobbled from side to side and her body felt groggy.

With stiff hands, (Y/n) cradled the glass of water from the side table and drained it completely, feeling like her throat was made of sandpaper grating together and becoming raw. Why did she feel so rough? Surely she hadn't been asleep for that long? Although, with how groggy she felt, (Y/n) realised she couldn't feel any pain in her back, or anywhere else in her body. Everything was just... numb.

(Y/n) threw the cover to the side and slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, running her hand over her face to try and liven herself up a bit but she knew it wasn't working. Every move she made felt sluggish and her eyes were barely open enough to see in front of her. Even (Y/n)'s stomach was now starting to rotate and churn in the wrong kind of way.

With a deep breath, (Y/n) tried to stand up, she wanted to go and find Henry and sit with him and maybe get something to eat. But the moment she was upright, all the blood left her head and went swimming down to her feet.

She barely felt the way her body collided roughly with the floor or how her legs curled awkwardly beneath her and her arms were stuck under her chest. Everything felt like it was spinning in circles around her head and her eyes couldn't even stay open no matter how hard she tried.

It felt awkward to try and move around, like she was some sort of worm no the floor with no arms or legs. Her arms flailed against her stomach and her eyes rolled to the back of her head when her face tilted down, brushing oddly against the carpet before she was sick.

"Baby, you alright?" Henry ran his fingers through his hair as he ascended up the stairs. He had just left the living room when he heard a sudden thud upstairs. Maybe (Y/n) had knocked something over or dropped something. She was always walking into things.

A slither of fear crept up the back of his neck and tingled through his blood when he didn't hear a response.

"Babe?"

Reaching their bedroom, Henry lightly tapped his knuckles against the door before he slowly opened it and walked in.

"Shit." His heart jumped into his throat and he quickly fumbled to turn the light switch on before he crashed down onto his knees behind (Y/n)'s limp form curled up on the floor. "Baby, hey, sweetheart can you hear me?" He brushed her hair behind her ear before he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. Her skin was burning hot and clammy from sweat.

A small murmur bubbled past (Y/n)'s lips and Henry could see her eyes moving a little behind her eyelids but other than that she wasn't moving at all. He thought he could hear her trying to say his name, but her voice was so quiet and her lips were barely moving.

"Okay, alright let's have a look at you." His voice was soft and gentle but his expression was the exact opposite.

Henry tried to be gentle when he shuffled (Y/n) back towards him so she was away from the vomit on the floor. He pressed his hand beneath her top and rested his large palm against her chest, trying to feel if she was hot or cold and see how well she was breathing. Her breaths were shallow, her chest wasn't falling very much or deeply and it felt like she was hiccuping rather than breathing. She was sweating but her skin wasn't hot and clammy on her chest, it was colder than the rest of her.

"I need to move you, we need to go to hospital sweetheart."

There wasn't any time for Henry to run downstairs and phone for an ambulance. He didn't like the way she was breathing and she wasn't moving, added with how she was barely conscious, it told him something was drastically wrong with his wife and he needed to get her help right now.

With one hand resting on the back of her neck, he gently pulled her up until she was sitting up with all her body weight on his arms. His thumb brushed against her neck and he tipped her head forward quickly when her lips parted and she threw up water onto her legs.

"Let it out sweetheart,"

When he was sure she'd finished, Henry slid his arms under her armpits and slowly hoisted her up to her feet and leaned her weight onto his chest. When her chin was propped up on his shoulder and he moved her arms around his neck, he held her thighs with one arm and picked her up with his other hand supporting her back.

He didn't want to carry her bridal style if she was going to be sick because she could choke. At least this way if she threw up she would just do it on his back and she wouldn't choke.

What was happening to her?

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry x reader #henry cavill fluff #imagine #look at us #pregnancy #pregnant! reader

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evansbby · 1 year

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naur coz why doni feel like mean!ari is way meaner than poyt-steve coz atleast poyt!steve was quick about breaking it off with sharon and being a simp all abput being girlfriend-boyfren and mega never share! with mean!ari and baby i feel like at this point hes totally playing her. he prolly still in that steve era thats like ya she'll stay a sidechick coz shes wayyy below my league but everyone will know shes mines and im fucking her. until naive baby is well and truly heartbroken one day when sharon flashes her ring around campus. didnt mean shit to ari but its a fucking ring ofcourse its a big deal! and coz shes a good girl shes like NO HES A BIG MEAN LIAR! HES GONNA MARRY HER IM NEVER GONNA BE HIS GIRLFRIEND! I HATE HIM! (but actually no shes just big sad :(.) and then obv her dad was a serial cheater but they kept the toxic marriage together for 'their children' and thats why she grows up super naive and trusting of ari. but maybe a weeks ago her brother or mother confesses coz the dads off on a cheating binge again and thats why they had to cancel their weekly dinners for the 3rd time :( omg i feel sad now.

so anyways because of that shes like fuck i will never get in the way of a couple especially engaged or married couple and i shudve never gotten with ari! and when ari corners her shes like

"I'm quitting you!"

he like "Huh?"

"No more, Ari! I am NOT a home wrecker! I wont do that! I hate that."

And hes just cooing at her and shes melting and suddenly she starts quiet crying, clinging to him and she whispers "Please stop Ari. I love you but I hate that you make me hate myself. "

And hes stunned.

"If you keep lying, I'll believe you. Because I want you so badly, Ari... I always want to just be near you, even if you can't kiss me but you always, always do... you always hurt me. I'm quitting you, Ari, because I am not Sharon. And I want to be. Not the one you use, not the sidechick."

ugh SHUT UP! i wanna hug her.

and Aris at a loss and for the first time ever she manages to slip away. shes not on campus the next few days, not trace of her. she back at her familys house with her mother and they have a normal few days. the unspoken miserable commiserationof both being the one cheated on and cheated with. they knit together at sunset and make special teas at dawn. her mother says that the beach is good for the soul so on the last day they go to the beach together and they play tic tac toe in the sand.

when the mum drops her back off at campus its errily quiet, theyre staring at her but she has the hood of her jacket up and shes just shuffling her way back to her dorm. red jacket, splitting the crowds like little red riding hood in the forest.

turns out ari turned the whole canpus upside down and so did sharon in her anger. but guess who changed the lock on her dorm room? left a note saying you know where to find me. and when she shows up she'll be the last one standing if she ever tried to leave again coz ari would leave no one else for her to run to.

badumtsh!

-🐝🖖anon

Omg bestie 😩😩😩 first of all, yes you’re kinda right! At least poyt!Steve made omega his public girlfriend after like… two days. He also promptly dumped Sharon (via text, but he still dumped her loool). So in that sense, he’s better than wg!Ari. But wg!Ari isn’t as cruel or plain fucked up as poyt!Steve (or is he 🤔🤔🤔 hehe)

And omg bestie not you writing a whole saga!!! I love it!!! All the angst! Reader playing tic tac toe on the beach with her mom 🥺🥺🥺 AND THE CONFRONTATION WITH ARI AHHHHHHHH

#anon #🐝🖖 anon

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atinygoblin · 8 months

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My annual leave ends this Saturday. I’ve had a good 17 days off. I managed to scam a couple of extra days, with simply how my shifts fell. I booked annual leave for my boyfriends birthday, to make sure I was there for it.

Basically, I gave him his first ever experience of a birth-week, just wanted to make sure it was all about him for a week. On his actual birthday, we spent it with his parents and brother just having a few drinks.

2nd day, Me, him and his brother went to see barbie. I’ve already watched it (ofc) and they loved it (ofc!)

I cried again. Barbie is going to become a comfort movie for me. Feeling really grown lately. Just really telling my age. I’m 22 but I feel like I’m not as young as I was when I was 19. Like I feel fully formed but now I have no idea what I’m meant to do with the rest of my life.

I did cry in the car. Started to have an existential crisis on the way home. I feel so far behind everyone, but like I feel like I’ve only just grew up. How do people even know how they like something? Everything changes. Nothing stays the same? Why plan your whole life out, when things will change?? You will change? Everything you’ve prepared for will inevitably change at some point and you start off at square 1. Do you do it all over again?

Sorry barbie makes me think.

Thinking that has completely overwhelmed me.

Saturday, he went to work and a had a day too myself. Thank god, because that Saturday was a trauma anniversary, so I was miserable. I did take a walk to the shops which helped me clear my head, did also cry on the walk to the shops too.

Sunday, he played at a punk festival with the band that his in ( they all slayyed ) but the headliners were buzzcocks. They were amazing, even if it is a glorified tribute band, I really enjoyed seeing them.

Monday, we took a walk round Bradgate park, which lady Jane grey lived. I really enjoyed the fact that it was me and stinky, just chatting shit and enjoying the sun. I love him so much. I did have to go home though on Monday.

I hate going home. Ofc because of my mum and dad. But it’s so boring here, the only good thing is that I get to see my sisters and pets.

I feel like I’ve just developed over a few months and I’ve just became super independent. When I’m home, that gets stripped away from be, but somehow expected not need anything.

One thing I’ve always struggled with, is restlessness. I’m a restless person, if I’m stuck in the same place for a little too long, I go feral. For example, on a bad day and hit myself and others around me. (I think this is me needing physical stimulation) I’m not always violent when restless, but I get agitated. You know that feeling when you’re that angry, and you get the urge to bite. Like that ache in your jaw that you get when you’re angry. I feel that when I’m restless. It’s just best for me to take a walk instead of biting everyone.

Being at home makes me constantly want to bite, hit and scream all the time. But I can’t, that’s what mentally unstable people do. Me, I’m a good girl, I go on a walk. It comes to my first day back at home and I’m restless. It’s time for a walk.

I go on my walk, and just burning that energy is making me feel so much more better. BUT NO. IM NEVER ALLOWED ANY PEACE EVER.

My mum calls me…moaning

Because I left the house for a few minutes. I was so angry. I literally can’t do anything. Whatever I do is wrong. Always the wrong choice.

Exhausted of trying to better myself when I’m at home. I’m starting to believe that my mum wants me struggle. She’s just coming in between me and myself. Only solution is to live a 2nd life

It’s been like that all week so far, anything I do is some how an inconvenience to my mum and dad. I would say it’s starting to annoy me but it started as soon as a came home. It’s been jarring since I came home.

#blogstory #diary entry #diaryposting #blogs to follow #dear diary #daily diary #diary #family #tw depressing stuff #punk music #festival #barbie #sad thoughts #family problems

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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supercluster

this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍

the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'

summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too

best friends -> lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue

wc: 3.5k ishhh

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Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.

His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.

And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.

In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.

One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.

Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.

“Are you upset?”

“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.

“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.

“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”

Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.

“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”

Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.

“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.

“Missing home?”

“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”

Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.

This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.

“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”

“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.

“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?

“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”

“Shitty week?”

“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.

“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.

“Will you do me a favour?”

This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.

“Always T, you know that.”

“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”

She got where he was coming from too.

Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.

It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.

“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”

Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”

And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.

“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”

“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.

“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.

“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”

“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”

“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”

“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”

“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”

“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.

"Honestly."

He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”

“Well, I am very knowledgable.”

“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.

“Whats your biggest worry?”

“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”

It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.

“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”

“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.

“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.

“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”

“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”

“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.

“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”

“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.

“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”

“They do that?”

“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”

Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.

“You are being metaphorical.”

“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”

“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.

“Tell me another story about another star.”

Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.

It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.

As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.

“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”

“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.

“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.

“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”

With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.

“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”

“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.

“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.

“This is stup-“

“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.

“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.

“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”

There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.

“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.

But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.

“I lied too.”

That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”

Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.

She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.

Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.

Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.

“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.

“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.

“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”

~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter

#tom Holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #writing challenge #tbff21 #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #harry Holland

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

Roommates – Part Fourteen

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,580

Warning: Fluff

Note: This plays in 2020. It’s all fiction and not based on Cillian’s real life and family.

It has been a week since Cillian found out about Laura’s lie and, as expected, it took him some time to come to terms with it. Whilst, on one hand, he was relieved that she wasn’t pregnant after all he had been through with her, he was also somewhat disappointed by it. After all, he had been looking forward to finally becoming a father after him and his ex-wife Lindsay went through IVF for many years unsuccessfully.

Luckily for him, you knew that he was struggling and you were there to pick up the pieces and support him through this horrible initial week after he had found out.

Unfortunately for you, Laura had also since found out that you were involved with Cillian and ceased the opportunity to seek revenge which, for some reason, she still thought she was entitled to. Her friendship with most of your mutual friends had been destroyed after it was found out what she did. But this wasn’t your fault you thought. It was hers alone.

After sending you at least ten text messages, telling you how you were the most horrible person who had ever walked this earth, she informed James and most of your other friends and Cillian’s family about your relationship with Cillian in order to get them to turn on you instead of her.

As a result, James kept calling, messaging and emailing you constantly and you ran out of options on how to block him after he obtained several new phone numbers and email addresses so that he could harass you, thinking that you had been involved with Cillian for years.

As for your family and friends, you found it difficult to explain to them that there was only some truth to what Laura was saying. You tried hard to make clear to them that you were not in a relationship with Cillian and it was Cillian’s mother herself who didn’t take your and her son’s explanations serious.

‘I think my mother is set on the idea that we are together’ Cillian chuckled as he handed you the invitation to her 70th birthday which specifically mentioned you as his plus one.

‘She told me about it already. She also enquires about your wellbeing on a daily basis, darling. Apparently, you aren’t very forthcoming to her about your feelings. Luckily, her birthday not until after Christmas’ you laughed.

You had always gotten along well with Cillian’s mother since you met her almost ten years ago.

‘I am not sure if I should be more amused by the fact that my mother talks to you more often than to me or that she thinks that we will be out of lockdown by January next year’ Cillian then said, smiling before offering you a cup of tea.

‘Well, you know your mum and I get on like a house on fire, sweetheart’ you then joked before approaching Cillian and kissing him gently.

You didn’t usually kiss. Kissing was only to initiate sex which you have had plenty off over the past week even while Cillian was feeling rather depressed about what happened.

You knew that sex would get his mind of the pain Laura had caused him and you were more than willing to distract him from all the madness in his life.

In turn, sex led to you sharing a bed and, since you had sex every night and sometimes even during the day, you pretty much slept in the same room continuously for weeks on end. Sometimes you would stay in Cillian’s room while, on other nights, he would come to yours. It was almost like musical chairs.

But tonight, this was all about to change as, in the morning, you had just gotten your first period since you started being intimate with each other.

As such, you quickly apologised for the kiss you had just given him to ensure that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea about your intentions.

‘Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to initiate anything. I was just sneaking in a cheeky little kiss’ you said somewhat embarrassed as you quickly pulled away from the kiss.

‘No period sex then I suppose?’ Cillian joked, knowing very well that this was off the table for you even though he had explained to you that it wouldn’t bother him.

‘Absolutely not Cillian’ you giggled before reaching for some more of the pain killers on the kitchen counter.

‘Well, if you change your mind tonight, you know where my bedroom is’ Cillian winked and you couldn’t help but shake your head in disgust.

‘Trust me Cilly, I won’t’ you chuckled.

‘Alright then. No sex tonight. Got it’ Cillian chuckled before offering you to fill up your hot water bottle. ‘How about I fill this up for you, we have some wine, order some pizza and watch a movie?’ Cillian suggested as he took the hot water bottle from you.

‘That would be nice’ you said, smiling and wanting to kiss him again, but refraining from doing so for obvious reasons. You reminded yourself that you weren’t more than friends with benefits, regardless of the rumours out there which Laura had spread.

***

Half an hour later, you finally settled in the living room with your hot water bottle and two glasses of red wine.

Being so close to Cillian and unable to be intimate with him bothered you and you could see that it bothered him too as he tried hard to keep his hands to himself.

Occasionally, you felt his hand brush over the top of your cotton pants and then move away quickly as if he was a shy little school boy who was doing something naughty and who thought you wouldn’t notice.

It was strange, the fact that you both only ever showed affection towards each other while, before or after you were having sex. But then again, of course, it was normal considering your arrangement. You were friends and, if kissing wouldn’t turn you both on so incredibly much, you probably wouldn’t even be doing that in the bedroom.

But even just in that moment, where he was sitting next to you and was watching a movie with you, you wanted to kiss him desperately and a kiss was all you wanted.

You felt the urge to snuggle up against him and rest your head against his chest but you thought that this also would be inappropriate you restrained yourself from it for the remainder of the evening.

***

At around 10 o’clock, you finally called it a night. You were tired and exhausted and needed a good nights’ sleep.

Unfortunately for you, sleep was something you struggled with and it was when you lay in your bed for an hour, tossing and turning with your eyes wide open, that you realised what was missing.

It was the warmth which would normally radiate from Cillian’s body when you cuddled up against him and it was the scent of his skin you breathed in when laying in his arms.

Even if you couldn’t be intimate with him, you wanted to be near him, kiss him and cuddle him and feeling this way about him wasn’t something you were prepared for.

***

Little did you know that you weren’t the only one craving this kind of closeness and non-sexual intimacy. Cillian also was laying on his bed, restless and unable to sleep, realising that something was missing.

He adored the smell of your hair and the softness of your skin pressed against his. He loved spooning against you while you held his arms tight as he wrapped them around you.

He also loved the little sounds you were making in your dreams when there was clearly something pleasurable on your mind.

He soon realised that his efforts to simply fall asleep like this on his own were going to be futile and he decided to get himself another glass of water from the kitchen and settle with a book until he would be tired enough to go back to bed and try again.

***

‘Still up?’ Cillian asked as he walked into the kitchen and saw you filling up your hot water bottle again.

‘I can’t sleep’ you pouted while moving aside and allowing Cillian to fill up his glass.

‘Me neither’ Cillian then said before making a suggestion which could possibly change that.

‘Do you…uhm…want company…in bed?’ Cillian then shuddered somewhat reluctantly.

‘Cillian, I am not going to have sex with you, I told you that’ you said somewhat amused by the fact that he was still trying to convince you otherwise.

‘I didn’t mean for us to have sex Y/N’ Cillian then explained and your eyes widened immediately.

‘So, you mean just us sharing a bed to sleep?’ you asked confused, causing Cillian to nod.

‘Just to sleep and maybe kiss…if you want to’ Cillian said almost shyly.

‘Just kissing?’ you asked again, unsure about his motives.

‘Just kissing’ Cillian confirmed.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @ @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine

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lxngbottom · 3 years

Text

Mistakes That Last Forever. | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville tries to get his life back.

warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing (lmk if there are more!)

im crying over this fic PLS

(PART 1)

—

the shower felt wonderful as it collided with your skin. the stress that had been building up from the past week due to seeing neville, and work, was seemingly all being washed away. you could hear neville jr in the living room, muttering small scenarios as he used his imagination to play with his toys.

but, the small peace that your house held was soon disturbed by your house phone ringing. you sighed, hoping that it wasn’t your boss demanding at you turn in that article draft you had promised him.

“mummy! the phone is ringing!” your son called out, and you could hear that he had ran to the bathroom door in order to inform you.

“um—i know!” you replied, “can you be a big boy and answer it for me? just like we talked about?! ask to take a message, okay?”

“okay!”

you heard his hurried footsteps exit the hallway, and you continued your now, limited shower as quickly as you could.

neville jr reached up and picked up the phone, putting it to his ear in excitement. this was the first time you let him use the adult phone, and he couldn’t be more thrilled,

“uh... hello? longbottom—well... y/l/n residence!”

he made an odd face as he realized he has already messed up what you told him to say if someone had ever called.

the person on the other line smiled to himself, hearing that small, fragile voice. he sounded just like he used to when he was younger.

“hi... is your mum there?” neville asked awkwardly, shifting awkwardly in his seat as the realization that he was talking to his son was hitting him.

neville jr crooked his lips as he looked down the hall, “um... she’s in the shower...” he began to try and remember what you had told him to say, “uh—um... merlin... oh!” he finally remembered. “can i take a message for you?”

the boy had such a sweet voice. he was filled with such innocence. the shame of missing out on his son growing up had already hit neville, and he had been in a big slum for the last week due to that.

“yes... can you tell her that neville called? it’s important that she knows...”

neville jr then furrowed his eyebrows, “hey! that’s my name!” he snapped, “i didn’t call my own house!”

neville on the other line chuckled at the boy’s obliviousness, “no! that’s my name, too, lad. i’m—uh... your—“

just as he was about to tell his son the truth, you came stomping out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, and your hair as well. you ran over to your son, who was still holding the phone.

“who is it?” you asked, already grabbing the phone from his grasp,

“uh... neville? he has the same name as i do, mum!”

your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, and you tried to play it off by sending your son a small smile.

“that’s... nice, sweetheart. but... go play for a few minutes, okay?”

the boy nodded his head, and went right back to the center of the living room, and continued to play with his cars. you glanced over at him, putting the phone up to your ear, hands shaky from anxiety.

“hello?” you started, looking down awkwardly at the numbers on the phone.

“oh... hey, y/n.”

yep. it was neville.

“how did you get my number, longbottom?” you asked in a low whisper, glancing over at your son once more,

neville let out an awkward chuckle, “well... it’s not that hard to get into contact with the journalist of the daily prophet, y/n.” he teased slightly, maybe trying to lighten the mood, “i just need to talk to you.”

you sighed, gritting your teeth slightly, “about what, neville?”

“about... seeing him. seeing both of you. ever since i saw you both last week... i haven’t been sleeping, or eating... i want to make things right. i deserve that, y/n. i need to see my son...”

you knew it was coming, but, you had hoped it would at least be a few more years.

“neville—“

“y/n, i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep walking throughout my life miserable. i know i’ve done awful things to you, and i know there is nothing in this world that i could possibly ever do to make it up to you. but, please... that’s my son. maybe this is my opportunity to do the right thing. an opportunity to get my life back...”

you huffed at his words, “you didn’t even know he existed until a week ago!”

“yeah, because you never told me! you know for a fact that if you would’ve told me the truth, that i would’ve been there for everything! there’s a lot i have to owe up to, but don’t forget that you lied to me! you kept me away from my son for his whole life because you were hurt over a mistake!”

“a mistake that you made, asshole!” you clapped back through teary eyes, “i figured... hey! maybe if neville wants to go back to being an immature teenager and cheat on me, then how in world would he ever be a good father?! i wasn’t even sure that you would even be committed to him, neville! because, you sure weren’t committed to me!”

the tension that radiated through the static on the phone was terrifying. the only thing that could be heard was your small sniffles, and neville’s agitated sighs on the other end. you were so hurt. you had always been so hurt due to what had happened.

“y/n...” neville sighed, “please. just let me make this right. let me make it up to you... and to him. please... i’ll do anything.”

you thought for a moment, considering all of the positives and the negatives of this whole situation. you knew he was right, he did deserve to see his son. but, you didn’t know if that would be the right thing for your son himself.

“fine...” you breathed, “you can come and see him. i’ll send you an owl, soon...”

neville had never felt more relieved.

“thank you. thank you, y/n. i promise i’ll—“

but, you cut him off by slamming the phone back onto the hook. your face fell into the palm of your hand as you let out a small sob, overwhelmed by the sudden old feelings that were rushing back into your veins.

“mummy...”

you didn’t look at him. you couldn’t look at him.

“you’re crying, mum. what’s wrong?” he asked, slowly walking over to you, “was it that man on the phone?”

you finally looked down at him, seeing the worried look etched across his round, chubby face. you crouched down to meet his height, reaching your hand up to caress his face gently. you had always done that, because it was something that you always did to neville when he was worried or sad.

“mummy’s alright, baby... she’s just stressed out. but... i need to talk to you about something, alright?”

that’s when his face became even more worried, “as i in trouble?”

you chuckled through your tears at your son’s overthinking, “no, no, of course not. it’s just... there’s something i haven’t told you...”

“what is it, mum?”

you sighed, finally ready to have the talk.

—

that morning had started off chaotic. it was a mix of you trying to get ready, neville rummaging through his closet in order to find the perfect outfit, as he was a big boy now, and he wanted to get ready all by himself.

“neville longbottom! have you brushed your teeth?!” you yelled from the living room, trying to pick up the small mess of toys that was spread throughout the floor.

neville in his room widened his eyes, realizing that he indeed had not brushed his teeth.

“i’m going to take that as a no!” you yelled, referring to the silence, “go and do it, please! he’ll be here at any minute!”

neville jr was probably just as nervous as you were, as he had subconsciously had always questioned where his father had been, but never asked. but ever since that long conversation the two of you had, he was finally ready to meet him. you on the other hand, felt as if you could throw up at any given moment.

you were only in your bra and underwear as you cleaned, trying your best not to mess up your applied makeup. you ran to your room after you were done, and started going through your closet. you and neville jr would always wake up late, as for some reason, you two loved getting your beauty sleep. the both of you were used to rushing through your shared home, getting ready while doing ten other things at the same time. time management was definitely something you needed to teach him, and maybe even teach yourself.

“mum! i can’t find my socks!” you heard your son call out, his voice shaky.

“um—check in your top drawer, sweetie! there should be a clean pair in there!” you yelled back, slipping on a sun dress and zipping it up in the back. you looked in the mirror, and noticed that you hadn’t even done your hair. it was still wet from the shower you had taken,

“fuck!” you groaned, running to your personal bathroom and grabbing your hairbrush.

“mum! that’s a bad word!”

“i’m sorry! i’m just really stressed out! are you almost ready?”

there was silence for a moment before he responded, “um... yeah?”

he wasn’t ready, of course.

you felt as if you could crack at any moment, but you were trying your best to hold back the tears. maybe this would’ve been a lot easier if you two had actually woken up when you were supposed to.

that’s when the doorbell rang, and your heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. you sighed, mentally preparing yourself as you grabbed your flats from your closet, and walked through the house to the front door.

when you arrived, you shakily unlocked it and opened the door.

that’s when you saw him. he held a small bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a small gift box in the other. he smiled at you, taking in how absolutely ravishing you looked.

“um—come in...” you told him, opening the door. he stepped in, and began to follow you through the house, leading to your living room. “just—ignore the mess, please! we woke up late, and i didn’t have time to clean the kitchen and—“

“hey, hey, hey...” he interrupted you, setting the items down on the couch. “it’s fine, y/n. i understand... no need to explain.”

you looked over at him, and for a moment, you began to get lost in his gentle eyes. neville had always been so patient with you. he never judged you, nor ever would judge you. he knew you from the inside out, and he could tell how stressed out you were in that moment.

“mummy!” you heard, and the two of you whipped your head around to see a struggling smaller neville, trying to get his sweater on over his jumper. you giggled as his head was getting stuck in the hole, “it won’t go on!” he huffed aggressively, his arms flailing around.

you walked over to him, and pulled the sweater vest down over his head easily. he looked at you for a moment, an appreciative smile on his face. but then, he caught a glance at the smiling man that stood just ways away from you. he hid behind your leg, still nervous out his mind.

“neville...” you muttered, trying to get him to not be so shy, “come on...”

he shook his head, now burying his face in the material of your dress.

you looked over at neville, who had a sad look on his face.

“he’s shy... but... he’ll come around.” you reassured the man.

of course he was shy. he was neville longbottom’s son for merlin’s sake.

neville wearily made his way over to the both of you, the gift box now in his hand. he crouched down by your knee, letting your cherry blossom lotion take over his senses.

“this—it’s for you...” he offered, holding the gift box up to the small boy. neville jr peeked his head around your leg, eyeing the color wrapped box. “go on... it’s yours...”

neville jr finally gave in, his childish mind not being to help itself as he reached out, and grabbed the box from his father’s hand. he slowly showed himself, ripping the wrapping up.

he squealed when he finally got it open.

“mum, look!” he held the toy up in his hand, “look how cool!”

you smiled down at your lovely son, “i see it, honey. what do you say?”

neville jr looked up at his dad, batting his eyelashes a few times.

“thank you...”

neville sent him a sweet smile,

“no problem...”

—

the day had been simple. you, neville, and neville jr did nothing but relax, play with toys, talk about your old days at hogwarts, ordered pizza for lunch, and you even made a nice dinner by the time the night had came along. it brought you a feeling of serenity, as this had always been your dream for you and neville.

“can i have a goodnight kiss?” you asked neville jr as you tucked him in. he nodded his head, and pecked your cheek, then settled back into his blanket.

“goodnight, mum...” he told you sweetly,

neville watched as you tucked your son in, glancing around the boy’s room every now and then. he had noticed how much of an amazing mother you were the whole day, but, he would’ve never expected less.

neville jr looked over at the tall man, hiding his face shyly.

“goodnight, daddy...”

the nickname made you look over at neville, who seemed to be in some sort of state of shock. but, he sent the boy a small smile.

“goodnight, nev. get some rest...”

you stood up from your son’s bed, and slowly made your way towards the door.

“will you still be here tomorrow when i wake up?”

the question made you and neville’s head turn, and you were still trying your best to hold it together.

neville wiped his nose awkwardly, “not sure about that one, lad. but, i’ll definitely see you in a couple of days. maybe... you can come to my house and meet my pets, huh? that sound good?”

the question seemed to be aimed towards your son, but just by looking at neville, he seemed to be asking the both of you.

“yeah... that sounds good...” neville jr replied, offering the both of you a weak yawn. he rubbed his eyes, and cuddled into his stuffed toad.

you smiled as you turned the light off, and neville stepped out of the room.

“goodnight, darling. i’ll see you in the morning.”

and with that, you closed his door softly, and began to walk back to the living room.

neville watched as you started to clean up, even at one point offering to help you.

“it’s fine...” you told him as he went to pick up a toy, “i don’t need your help...”

you hadn’t noticed it, but neville definitely had. you were now crying, tears streaming down your face as you continued to pick toys up, and set them into the box that sat beside you. the emotions from today were now taking an affect on you, and as much as you tried to ignore them, your body needed some sort of release.

“y/n...” neville muttered, and you looked over at him, breaking his heart when he saw your eyeliner smudging, “what’s wrong?”

you sighed as you picked the box up, and put it back in its place over the by the couch.

“nothing... just exhausted. i have to get something into my boss for work, and i just—“

“don’t lie to me.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at him, “i’m not—“

“yes, you are. i can tell.” he interjected, walking closer to you. “you can tell me... please tell me.”

you pondered for a moment, wondering if you should actually let the words slip your lips.

“it’s just—“ you began, trying to collect your thoughts. neville gazed at you intently, “it’s just hard seeing you. and... seeing you with him is even worse.”

“why?”

you bit down on your bottom lip, something you had always done when you were trying to hold back tears, “because... i suppose i just thought that—maybe... that would’ve been us. all these years... you would’ve done all the stuff you did with him today everyday. i had always dreamt of us having a family together... but... i just wasn’t good enough for you.”

neville’s breath hitched at your words. he felt his stomach churn with guilt, and sadness as well.

“y/n... you were more than good enough for me. i was just—a fucking git. i was so... stupid for what i did. and, i probably won’t ever be able to make it up to you...”

you chuckled nervously, “well... at least there’s a chance to make it up to him.”

he stepped even closer to you, only a small gap between your nervous bodies. he slowly reached his hand up, and wiped away the single tear that was treading down your cheek. he ran that same hand through your hair, that familiar feeling settling in, ever so present between you both.

“yeah... but something tells me that you want me to make it up to you, as well, y/n...”

his touch was so gracious. it felt so familiar, and you couldn’t help but to fall into it. his thumb caressed your skin, feeling all of the familiar bumps and roughness. he felt as if he collapse, as he was only just now realizing that he was finally touching you again.

“it doesn’t matter what i want, neville. that hasn’t mattered since i had our son. all that matters is him now.”

neville took a beat of silence before responding, his eyes trailing to your lips.

“it does matter.”

that’s when he planted his soft lips upon yours, relishing in the serenity of you.

it was a kiss that was long overdue. a kiss that said so much but nothing all at the same time. oh, how he missed you. and oh... how you missed him so much more.

when you two finally pulled away, his palm still rested against your cheek, and he admired you.

“i’m sorry for everything. but what i said was true... i want my life back. and y/n... you and neville are my life.”

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter smut #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader #neville x y/n #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x y/n

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marvel-sluts · 3 years

Text

please don't go.

request: Can I request prompts 3. Please don't go & 16. Enemies to lovers with Tom Holland? 😊 - @palna (sorry it won't let me tag you)

prompt list

pairing: Tom Holland x reader

warnings: swearing, emotional abuse, angst, fluff

summary: you worked with Tom on set and ever since the first day he hated you. one day he overhears a phone call between you and your Dad, making him feel horrible for how he treated you.

a/n: im planning on making a masterlist soon so look out for it! anyway, enjoy lovlies!

***********

you opened the door to your apartment after a hard day at work. flopping onto the sofa and turning on the TV, not really paying attention to the six o'clock news.

that bloody Holland kid thinks he has the right to make your life a living hell. from the moment you met him he hated you.

you walk into the room flashing a smile to the people in there. you had been chosen to play a part in the new spider man movie. having quite a few successful movies under your belt you were well known.

you went round shaking hands with people, each one of them greeting you with a small smile and a hello. that was until you reached a certain individual.

"hi, I'm y/n" you say holding out you hand.

he looked you up and down with a grimace and looked at your outstretched hand, taking it in his and shaking it roughly.

"Holland, Tom Holland."

the buzz of you phone wakes you from your trance and you looked down to see your best friends name flash on the screen.

you quickly answer the phone and her voice can be heard throughout the room.

"sorry to bother you like this y/n but can we go out tonight? I had a shit day at work and need someone to take my mind off of it." she said.

"you read my mind, where do you want to go?" you ask, relieved to have an excuse to leave the house.

"how about the bar down the road from your house?" she said.

"sure, let me get changed out of my clothes first."

"okay I will be at your house in half an hour." she said hanging up the phone.

you run up the stairs and put on a black skirt and a pink shirt, touching up your makeup from filming and pulling on a pair of boots.

a few minutes later b/f/n (best friends name) rings the doorbell of your apartment and you go to greet her.

you reached the bar and grabbed one of the only remaining tables.

"so, what made your day so shitty?" you asked taking a sip of your gin.

"just my dickhead of a manager. he has given me about 5 projects and is expecting them all done by next week." she sighs rolling her eyes at you.

you snort into your drink "like your gonna get all of that done in such a short amount of time." you say.

"I know right. anyway whats going on with you?" she asked, knowing something was up. "is it that Holland guy again? I swear to god I will punch his nose in if he's done anything to you." she said, knowing how much he bothers you.

"there is nothing that you can do. he just gets on my nerves. I don't know what his deal is with me." you say.

"what does he do?"

"glares at me alot, won't speak to me unless its to criticise what I'm doing and just overall makes my life miserable." you say with a sigh.

"and you dad...?" b/f/n asked.

"same as usual, he still hates me and continues to tell me how much of a failure I am." you say rolling your eyes. your dad was a dick, you and him had never gotten on.

"I know, you just have to ignore him. he just doesn't see how amazing you are." she said smiling at you.

"I guess..."

after a few hours of talking and forgetting your problems. b/f/n drove you home.

after getting undressed you collapsed on your bed, exhausted. falling asleep within seconds.

******

you woke up with a start and checked your phone. shit. you had slept through your alarm and you were going to be late for filming.

quickly pulling on clothes and fixing your hair and makeup you ran to your car and got to set only 15 minutes late.

"oh here she is, finally decided to show up did you?" came a chastising voice.

you sighed, knowing immediately who it was, choosing to ignore the comment you walked to your trailer.

the hair and makeup team quickly got to work on you, making you look amazing within minutes.

after throwing a quick thanks over your shoulder, you rushed to set and got told what scene they were filming and where to stand.

half an hour later you heard a "and cut, great job guys. go and get read for the next scene."

you quickly checked your script and realised that you were needed for the next scene, opting to go to your trailer and wait to be called.

suddenly your phone rang, making you jump. you picked it up before checking who it was, assuming it was b/f/n.

"oh you've finally decided to stop ignoring my calls have you?"

shit, it was your Dad. "hey dad, and for the record I wasn't ignoring them. I was working."

"yeah, what job again? that acting thing of yours? how many times y/n, thats not a job."

"okay" you whispered quietly, just wanting this to be over.

"your such a worthless bitch you know that? even your Mum thought that before she died. it was probably you who killed her. admit it y/n. you killed her." he said, trying to press your buttons.

"how many times Dad, the doctors said that she died of a heart attack. it wasn't me." you say.

"pfft, your just covering for yourself. how about you buy me a new house to make up for it?"

"Dad, I just bought you a new house, and a new car. surely you can't need anything bigger." you say, knowing he is just using you but feeling guilty for saying no nevertheless.

"well I want new house, maybe somewhere by the sea. or some big mansion." he said.

"but Dad i was planning on giving some of that money to charity and the rest was going to s/n (siblings name) school fund. so that they can go to a good school."

"fuck s/n, I want a new house. and if you don't then you really would be as fucking annoying as your mother. your no good for anything." he said, hanging up the phone.

a tear trickled down your face. you should have known all he wanted was a new house, new car. why not get a new fucking kid while he's at it. you bought him a new car last month and a new house the month before that, surely he doesn't need another one.

a knock was heard on the door of the trailer that you had accidentally left open. you spun around to see Tom, worry etched across his face. he walked into your trailer.

"hey y/n, are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on your arm.

"get off of me" you say, shrugging him off. "why would you care anyway, you've had this grudge against me ever since I started here."

Tom's face fell. "I'm sorry y/n I didnt mean to treat you like that."

"then what did you mean to treat me like because it was pretty damn obvious that you hated me. everyone saw it." you said.

"it wasn't you." he said looking down shamefully.

"look if this is about what you overheard with my Dad, don't worry about it. don't tell anyone and continue treating me like shit." you say, turning away from him again.

"no y/n what I overheard made me feel really guilty for treating you how I did. what I did was wrong and it wasn't your fault for how I treated you." he said, grabbing you and forcing you to look at him.

"then why did you do that to me?" you asked, confused.

"just before we started filming me and my girlfriend had broken up, she was toxic and would hit me and scream at me." he said, tears clouding his vision. "the day we started filming was the day I ended it with her, so I wasn't in the best mood. but when you walked in I could of sworn it was her. your hair and eyes are similar but your face is completely different."

"so from a distance I looked like her?" you asked, beginning to put the peices together in your head.

"yes. you had such a kind personality, always caring about others and everyone else loved you. but I couldn't get it out of my head. I guess that's why I treated you so badly, because you looked so much like her."

"Tom you could have just said something, I would have understood." you say, looking at him.

"I know I'm sorry." he said. "how are you, what happened with your Dad?" he asked.

"he keeps asking for new stuff, I just bought him a new house but he wants another one, and he wants a new car when he has the newest model. but at the same time he's always telling me how worthless and stupid I am, and how this acting thing isn't a proper job." you say, "maybe I'm just being selfish."

"no y/n, your not being selfish. I heard what you wanted to put that money towards instead of buying him stuff that he doesn't need. a selfish person wouldn't give to charity and help with paying for s/n schooling."

"are you sure?" you asked, doubt seeping in.

"very sure." he said, "is there anything you need, I could say that you are ill or something, give you some time to think over what happened with your Dad?"

"no I'm okay." you say.

"how about you come round to mine after work, we could talk everything out."

"yeah okay, I'd like that."

******

after filming was over, you drove over to Tom's apartment. he answered the door quickly and let you in.

you sat down on his sofa and admired the little things he had "borrowed" from the sets of different movies.

"do you want a drink?" he called from the kitchen.

"can I have a f/d (favourite drink) please?" you call back.

"sure."

he came back in with your drink and a coke for him.

"look about what happened today with my Dad, I never meant for you to overhear that and I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone." you say, looking down at your drink.

"your secrets safe with me, and if you don't mind me saying. your Dad is a bit of a dick." he said, smiling kindly at you.

"tell me about it." you laughed. "he's been like that ever since I can remember, he's always favoured my siblings over me." you say bitterly.

"well don't tell them but I prefer you." Tom said, trying to cheer you up a bit. "and I'm glad I overheard that conversation, because it made me think about I had treated you. and I'm starting to think that there was maybe another reason I didn't like you." he said sheepishly.

"and whats that?" you ask.

"I kind of liked you. I still do. after what happened with my last relationship I was scared I guess but I don't want to fuck anything up. I really like you y/n, I never meant to treat you like I did but I was pushing you away so that I didn't fall further than I already have." he said, blushing furiously.

"well Tom, maybe I like you too. thats why it hurt so much when you were horrible to me." you say. "do you just like me because I look like her?"

"no no no, that's not it at all. I like you because you have this sort of aura around you, people love you and your so nice to people." he said. "I like you because of your personality, the fact that you look slightly like a toxic ex has nothing to do with it." he added as an afterthought.

"aura?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

"yeah, people sort of want to protect the innocence you radiate. your aura makes everyone love you and it's how your smile brightens up a room and how you look when the sunlight hits your features." he said, gently placing his hand on your cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you, and it's my fault, but maybe we can start again?" he asked.

"okay." you say smiling up at him. before pulling away from his hand and sticking out your own. "y/n y/l/n, nice to meet you." you say.

"Tom Holland, pleasure." he said shaking your hand.

you turned around as the shrill sound of your phone broke the brief silence, checking the called ID this time you saw Dad appear on the screen. you look over at Tom in fear, showing him the screen.

"answer him y/n, maybe he wants to apologise. and I'll be right here with you" Tom said, flashing you a reassuring smile.

"okay" you said picking up the phone and putting it on speaker so that Tom could hear better. motioning to him to be quiet, him nodding in response.

"hi Dad." the fear in your voice evident.

"how's the new house you were going to buy me coming along? don't forget I want a big one." he said.

"actually Dad, I've thought about it and I just bought you a new car and house. the money is going towards s/n schooling and charity. I don’t think that you need anything else." you say, smiling weakly at Tom who gave you a thumbs up. egging you on.

"I don't care what you think, I'm your parent and you should listen to me. you are such a selfish bitch I don't even know why I bothered with you." he spat down the phone. "you are just a waste of space and I don't know how you made all of this money, who would ever want to employ you?"

"Dad you're not guilt tripping me into buying anything for you like you did last time. I'm not doing it." you say, tears beginning to cloud your vision. Tom noticed this and put his hand on your leg gently. in order to calm you down.

"you're such a fucking bitch. I never want to see or hear you again." he spat, hanging up.

as soon as he had hung up the phone, tears started falling down your face. Tom reached up and wiped away some of your tears before pulling you into his chest.

"hey hey hey, it's okay calm down." he said kissing your forehead and pulling you back into his arms.

"he hates me and its all my fault." you choke out before collapsing into tears again.

"its not your fault, your Dad is just being selfish and is only using you for your money. don't listen to him." he said, stroking your hair to comfort you.

"do you want me to go and get you something? ice cream maybe?" Tom asked.

"no, please don't go. I need you." you say.

"okay, I'm right here love. don't worry I'm not going anywhere." he said.

eventually you fell asleep, with his arms around you and your head on his chest. before Tom drifted off he kissed your temple and whispered "I'm so sorry y/n, I love you."

#tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #marvel #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x reader #tom holland x oc #tom holland #tom holland x original character #the avengers x teen! reader #the avengers #avengers #mcu #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x reader fluff

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alwaysahiccupandastrid · 3 years

Text

His Dark Materials - Season 2 Episode 5 (rambles)

I only realized last week, there’s only 7 episodes this series because the eighth would have been the Asriel centric one. So only two left now after tonight! :(

Also I finished the book during the last week so I am so READY

Ahh gotta love that London traffic!

I don’t know why but the Golden Monkey wearing a seatbelt SENT ME

Mrs Coulter is watching the mother and baby :(

Boreal saying that our world is barbaric and our world is corrupt is so accurate tbh I’m not even mad

Will literally just threw the knife into the wall omfg watch it!

Red PAN-da is becoming a permanent fixture in this show apparently

Lyra’s hair was so pretty this episode? Her costume too obviously but her hair had me in awe

The theme music to this show gives me literal chills

Boreal is evil but his house is A-fucking-plus

Okay but how does Ruth Wilson always look so gorgeous and fluid in this show?!?

Her faking nearly dropping one of Boreal’s precious collection pieces and him panicking 😅

Mrs Coulter’s little “hmm” and smile... we love a Queen

“Why are we whispering?” “I don’t know” - LMFAO

“Will, you left the window open” - LMAO and also please don’t do that, that’s like one of the BIG rules about the knife!

“He’s getting good at this” “he is” - we love a supportive feral wild girl and her dæmon

Mrs Coulter looking bored as fuck as Boreal plays his music is such a damn mood

“You’d like it here too” - Umm NO STOP PLEASE SHE DOESNT WANT IT

“Carlo, can you make that stop?” - OMG 🤣

“You’re far too conspicuous like that” - but she’s not??? She just looks like a posh well dressed woman, maybe that’s not common in this world but she looks fine??

Boreal picking out clothes he’s obviously got just for her is... eww. Just ewww.

Her reaction to the jeans/clothes though XD

“Would you mind?” - YEAH BOREAL STOP CREEPING AND FUCK OFF PLEASE

“Maybe it’s time we issue a firm denial of the tear in the sky” BRO IT’S LITERALLY HUGE AND RIGHT THERE YOU CAN’T PRETEND IT AIN’T

Oh shit the Magisterium know about that witches going to the new world + the massacre

MacPhail literally imprisoned Father Graves and for WHAT?! I think the power’s getting to him (which I know it the point but still!)

MRS COULTER SHUT THE DOOR ON HER DÆMON I’M-

Okay so I know it’s been implied/said that Mrs Coulter can go far away from the monkey already, and that they maybe have been through some kind of process that’s made that a thing, but like DAMN.

“I’m sure you’ve encountered witches in your travels” - if I hadn’t already read the books, I would be asking if she IS a witch tbh like omg

This is probably one of the few times I’ll say this but... I feel so sorry for the monkey?? Just him watching her as she leaves from the window... like that’s so sad. I get why she couldn’t exactly walk around with a monkey but urgh

“I apologize if she was a nuisance” “She wasn’t a nuisance!” - Oof you tell her, Mary

“You must be so proud.” “... I am.” - OOF

Mary showing that she’s better fit to be a parent to Lyra than Lyra’s real mother tbh

Damn Marisa disappeared FAST

Mary really googled Mrs Coulter I’m-

“You must play the serpent” “hornbeam” “save the girl and the boy” - IT’S HAPPENING IM GOING TO CRY IM SO EXCITED

The computer turning completely off and the room going dark before going red OH MY GOD

“Oh shut it, Pan” - LMAO

OH NO OH NO ANGELICA FOUND TULLIO AND SHE IS PISSED D:

A+ acting from Bella Ramsay by the way

“We WILL get you” - OH SHIT

The fact that Will feels guilty over fighting and inadvertently getting Tullio attacked by spectres because he has the knife :’(

It’s so sweet to see Lyra and Pan comforting him though

“I’m not judging” - Mary’s sister says while totally judging her for reading the Holy Bible. She probably thinks she’s about to rejoin the convent!

I find the relationship between Marisa and the monkey so interesting?? I’m so intrigued by it

“Do they drink in this world?” “That, they do well.” - LMFAO ACCURATE THOUGH

“I found her arrogant, like many women in this world.” - umm, FUCK you, Boreal you misogynistic sexist piece of shit

So Mrs Coulter was denied a doctorate despite being the best in her class because she’s a woman, and they would only have published her papers if they were by a man. I’m starting to see why she got upset when she met Mary, who’s got her own office and a doctorate and is head of the department/project

“Who I could have been in this world” - oh shIT

The way she started talking about how she felt after the whole affair/baby ordeal, followed by “we’re not talking about Asriel, we’re talking about ME” - FUCK. I love Ruth Wilson’s portrayal, I love it

“You’ve spent your time trading trinkets” - lmfao you tell him ma’am

“Were you hoping to add me to your little collection?” “I was hoping this would be a life for you here” - oh god I hate it, fuck right off Carlo

“If you got me, you wouldn’t even begin to know what to do with me” - oh SHIT :O

Lyra turning up to distract them so Will could have the chance to cut a window and steal the Alethiometer had me on the edge of my seat

Let’s be real right now, the whole last 15 minutes? THE MOST TENSE AND INCREDIBLE PIECE OF TELEVISION ASDFGHJKL

Mrs Coulter’s face when she saw Lyra at the door :’(

Also she nearly saw Will and I was sitting there praying she wouldn’t find him, I was so worried even though I’ve literally just reread the book

So um THE FUCKING MONKEY BASTARD JUMPSCARED ME AND I AUDIBLY YELLED SO LOUDLY HOLY HECK

The way that Lyra saw her mum and immediately tried to run away though, she just keeps trying to yeet herself away from her parents and I honestly don’t blame her at all

Boreal was being truly extra in the way he dropped his snake dæmon out of his sleeve like that whilst advancing on Will

“Why would I trust you?” TRUTH

Coulter saying for Lyra to stay away from Will and getting super teary eyed makes me think she’s worried Lyra will suffer like she did? Like she’s worried that Lyra will suffer at the hands of men and be in the same situation she was I think? And that’s so sad but nuanced

“I am NOTHING like you.”

So Lyra did this little head move like Marisa did in 1x02, when she made the monkey attack Pan to subdue Lyra - AND THEN PAN ATTACKED THE MONKEY JUST LIKE THAT, LITERALLY EXACTLY THE SAME, AND MRS COULTER FALLING TO THE FLOOR AND CLUTCHING THE SOFA LIKE LYRA DID?? AND LYRA WATCHING WITH THIS COLD LOOK ON HER FACE?!

SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE A COMPARISON GIFSET BECAUSE IM CRYING

I love Will getting mad at Boreal taunting him over his mum, and immediately starting to punch him

HE SMASHED THAT COLLECTION PIECE ON BOREAL’S HEAD FUCK YEAH WILL 👏🏻

That was a DAMN close escape, holy fuck, but she’s got the Alethiometer back!

“The man who hurt you, I wanted to kill him” - same Lyra

I was so emotional when she was talking about how Marisa used her dæmon to hurt her and Pan, and Will saying that he’s never worried about his mum hurting him... the comparison is so sad

“I hope I’m not like either of my parents” - I mean I don’t blame her tbh

SHE CONSIDERED MA COSTA AND LEE SCORESBY TO BE BETTER PARENT FIGURES TO BE LIKE I’M CRYING

So Mrs Coulter is definitely planning some shit, like she didn’t seem that concerned when Boreal was talking about the Spectres, and like obviously I know what happens but I’ve always been intrigued as to why the Spectres listen to her instead of just attacking her. Also is it something to do with her dæmon? Like if they ARE separated in some way, maybe the Spectres don’t feed on her because it’s Dust or something? (Idk if that makes any sense)

“Deceive the guardian... okay... okay...” honestly same XD

Mary pretending to be Mrs Coulter to get past the guard is such a brilliant idea, like she just ran with it immediately, we have to stan a Queen who keeps a calm head

SHE WENT THROUGH THE WINDOW AND INTO THE CITY AAAAHHHH

The angels said they’d protect her, right? So she doesn’t need to fear the Spectres I’m assuming (I need to assume or I’ll worry)

The promo for next week was literally half what we saw THIS week and half Lee/John Parry footage I’m assuming is next week... ?

The fact there’s only two episodes left makes me so sad :( I have no idea what I’ll do waiting for the final series - and I’m assuming it’ll be delayed maybe because of Covid. Plus I’m hoping we get the extra episode NEXT series, the one that was Asriel-centred and supposed to be in this one but wasn’t filmed because of Coronavirus, so fingers crossed! 🤞

#his dark materials #hdm #lyra belacqua #marisa coulter #will parry #pantalaimon #lord boreal #charles latrom #the golden monkey #golden monkey #philip pullman #the subtle knife #dafne keen #ruth wilson #amir wilson

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talkfastromance4 · 3 years

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Fireworks//ashton irwin

Masterlist

NYE Chronicles masterlist

Enjoy! feedback is always welcomed :)

• • • •

Not only was this your first holiday away from home, it was your first holiday in a different country with your boyfriend, Ashton. Leading up to your flight, Ashton was shaking with excitement and talking a mile a minute about all of the places he’s going to take you, the foods you’re going to try, and spending time with his family.

You were excited too but also nervous. You’ve met his mom and siblings over facetime a couple of times, but you’re still nervous if they’ll like you.

Just as you were about to fall asleep before you had to wake up for an early flight, Ashton springs out of bed and flicks the closet light on. You groan into his pillow before leaning on your elbow to watch him search through his carry-on for the hundredth time.

“Babe, what could you possibly forget that you wouldn’t be able to get in Australia?” you groan.

He zips up a pocket, shuts the light off then slips into bed with you.

“I”m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, angel,” he apologizes. His hand rubs into your back and you feel his lips on your hair.

“What are you even worried about? I’m the one meeting your family for the first time,” you grumble sleepily.

“They already love you. I’m just excited.”

“You’re so excited you won’t even need coffee tomorrow,” you tease. He pinches your side and you giggle as he kisses your neck.

“I always need coffee.”

The seventeen hour flight dragged. You slept for a few hours, tried to walk up and down the aisles to stretch your legs but you were getting antsy. You’re thankful Ashton convinced you to fly first class because you had more room for your legs to stretch but you were still feeling confined.

“Hey, you’re all right,” Ashton says resting his palm on your shaking knee. Your fingers continue to tap on the arm rest but he places his other hand over them to stop the motion. “Only a couple hours left.”

“I’m trying not to freak out,” you mutter and focus on a spot on the seat in front of you.

“I know,” he leans in front of you blocking the background from view. “We’re here together, you’re breathing just fine and the plane isn’t shrinking. Look at me.”

You look into his soft eyes and take a deep breath. His hand rubs your leg in soothing circles and you focus on the rotation until you’ve centered back to yourself. For the rest of the flight you lean your head on Ashton’s shoulder playing with his fingers and he plays with your hair.

Finally, when you land, you’re stretching your arms and legs while Ashton fetches your bags. You’re rolling your head from side to side and shaking your fingers. The weather is warm as you expected and it feels good to breathe in fresh air rather than stale plane aire.

Ashton points out certain spots that are tied to memories of his. You love looking at the scenery and listening to Ashton’s stories. His voice relaxes you and you think you feel the jet lag even though you’ve never experienced it before.

“Angel...wake up, we’re here…”

Ashton’s soft touch on your cheek and his voice in your ear pulls you awake. You hadn’t even realized you fell asleep.

“Where’s here?” you ask groggily.

“My mum’s house,” he chuckles and then you shoot straight up in your seat.

“OW!”

In your speed you end up klunking your head with Ashton’s. He’s rubbing his eye while you rub your head then he giggles.

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim stroking his forehead carefully.

“Are you trying to make a hospital visit to deter meeting my family?” he laughs.

“No, I forgot where I was for a moment,” you shake your head then take a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

The meeting went better than you thought, his mother reminding you of your own. She was very welcoming and hugged you on arrival. Each day leading up to Christmas was full of experiencing traditions Ashton has done since he was little.

“When the hell did you get these?” Ashton asks coming up behind you in the bathroom. You’re rubbing moisturizer on your face, his hands rubbing over your ass that is more accentuated because of your new leggings.

“A few weeks ago,” you shrug, “they’re the leggings I kept seeing on TikTok and I wanted a pair. Do they look okay?”

“Are they supposed to make your ass look this good?” he gives you a squeeze for good measure.

“That’s the point, yes,” you giggle at his reflection.

“And you’re planning on wearing these in front of my mum?” his eyebrows raise and his hands keep roaming over your ass.

“No, these are just for sleeping. We’re going to wear matching onesies tomorrow for Christmas morning.”

“Is that so?” he spins you around lifting you onto the bathroom counter, your legs wrap around his waist. “I want to enjoy you in these first.”

His lips attach to yours in a frenzied kiss, his large hands roaming over your backside. The two of you end up covering each other’s mouths when you finally connect, you can’t be as loud as you normally are with his family just downstairs.

New Year’s Eve has finally arrived and Ashton curated a delicious meal. When it was nearing midnight he took you for a drive along the coast then stopped where other cars were gathered along the beach.

“What’s this?” you ask taking his hand as he leads you towards the shore. He settles a blanket in the sand and sits down, patting his thigh for you to join him. Once you’re in between his legs he wraps his arms around you and kisses your cheek.

“This is a tradition every New Year’s. Just wait.”

The cool breeze makes you shiver but Ashton’s body heat keeps you warm as you wait for whatever it is you’re here for.

“Ten...nine...eight…” Ashton murmurs in your ear counting down with the other patrons on the beach. For some reason your heart accelerates at the countdown. He tilts your face towards his. “Four..three...two...one.”

Ashton presses his lips to yours just as fireworks explode behind you. You can see the bright explosions of color behind your eyes but you’re more preoccupied with the fireworks between you and Ashton.

“Happy New Year, angel,” he whispers in between kisses.

“Happy New Year,” you smile rubbing the beard on his cheeks.

You sit together wrapped in each other’s arms watching the light show and the way it illuminates over the body of water. You take photos of some and a few snapshots of you and Ashton kissing below the light show.

When it’s ended and you head back to his mom’s house, the lights are out and you settle on the couch with Ashton. He comes out of the kitchen with some sparkling juice, his months of sobriety have been excellent and you’re more than happy to be on that journey with him. He turns on the tv so you can watch the rest of the world welcome the new year.

“I like how it’s already the new year for us,” you say as he settles next to you. “It’s like we time traveled and we’re here in the new year alone.”

“You’d want to be the only two people in the world?” he laughs.

“Only with you,” you smile and squeeze his knee.

When the bottle of sparkling is halfway through, Ashton bolts from the couch and leaves the room. Thinking he went to the bathroom you pay it no mind and take another sip of the juice watching the New York feed as they only have ten minutes until the ball drops.

Ashton returns but instead of sitting next to you, he kneels in front of you, his eyes wide with excitement.

“What are you--?”

“I was thinking of doing this on your birthday, or our anniversary, even on Christmas morning or earlier tonight at the fireworks,” he starts and you’re more confused.

“Doing what?”

He pulls out a small box from behind his back. Your eyes dart from the box to his face about a dozen times until it clicks and you gasp.

“I wanted the moment to be perfect but every moment with you is perfect,” he continues and opens the box. He takes your hand. “I love you endlessly. Will you marry me?”

You sit in shock at the moment, then the ring makes you stop breathing because it’s so beautiful. Your head is swimming as you realize he kept checking his bag to make sure had the ring inside and didn’t forget it at home.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry! I’m--of course I’ll marry you! I feel like I’m dreaming, yes, Ashton, yes!” you stretch over to kiss him happily and he slips the ring on your finger. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he says and starts to remove your leggings. When the ball drops on the tv so does Ashton in between your legs as you celebrate the new year all over again.

Taglist: @calpalirwin @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @morguelth @haikucal @thatscooibaby @meghanrose05 @idontneedanyone @dinosaursandsocks @haveufoundwhaturlooking4 @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @zhangyixingxing1 @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @everyscarisahealingplace @stardust-galaxies @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @lovelybonesetc @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @superbloomed-c @ophelia-enthusiast @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @flaneurcth @dariangarcia

#nye chronicles #ashton irwin oneshot #ashton irwin fluff #ashton fluff #ashton 5sos #ashton writing #ashton irwin writing #5sos writing #5sos fluff

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megalony · 3 years

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Teacher’s Pet- Part 18

Here is the latest part of my dad! Ben Hardy series, I know my updates are staggered and slow at the moment but I love this series and am trying to keep updating it when I can. Feedback is always lovely to have.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @im-an-adult-ish @gwilymleeisbae @k-k0129 @haileymorelikestupid @glittrixvibe @youngpastafanmug @ultraviolencezs @kdatthecastle @darlindolan

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) teaches at the school Ben’s boys go to and they soon start a relationship. But they have their ups and downs with the problems Ben faces with his boys and how quickly the relationship progresses.

Enjoy.

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"What the fuck happened?!" Ben's voice echoed around the room the moment he ran in and slammed the bedroom door shut behind him. It felt like the whole room was shaking from his presence that was definitely unnerving to everyone in the house.

His wild eyes scanned around the room, taking in the situation that had been playing on his mind from the moment he got the phone call from Gwilym. He had heard (Y/n)'s agonised sobs down the phone and Gwilym's panicked voice which was a tone Ben never normally heard from his friend. He had barely managed to tell his colleague that he had to leave for an emergency before he had made his way to his car and drove home quicker than he should have.

All the drive back Ben had been praying that this wasn't as bad as it clearly was. He had hoped that (Y/n)'s water hadn't broken and that when he got here she would be calmer and say that she wasn't in as much pain anymore. Or that he could take her to hospital and find out that this wasn't serious and they weren't going to be going into labour eight weeks early.

Ben went down on his knees beside the rocking chair (Y/n) was hunched over in. He scanned his eyes over her, taking in her state that was very worrying to him right now. (Y/n)'s hair was falling out of her ponytail and sticking to her forehead as her skin was prickling with sweat. Her eyes were coming in and out of focus rather a lot and her breathing was hard and laboured in a way Ben had heard many times before. But it was the way she was cradling her stomach that was making his heart clench because he could see how much pain she was in.

"She tripped and blacked out for a few seconds, I think she landed on her stomach but her water's definitely broken and I called the hospital, they said she has to go in straight away." The panic in Gwilym's voice matched the frantic look in his eyes that were darting between Ben, (Y/n) and his phone that was clutched tightly in his hand.

The moment Ben hung up on him Gwilym had rang the hospital to get advice and they were very clear that (Y/n) had to be brought in and assessed straight away. The fact her water had broken didn't definitely mean she was in labour but this was very early to be happening and her water breaking could mean (Y/n) could get an infection. And the added fact she had hurt her stomach meant the baby could be in distress or harmed and that could push labour into happening.

"How badly did you hurt yourself?" Ben's eyes darted back to look at (Y/n) and his voice was a bit softer around the edges. He didn't want her to think he was angry at her in any way but when he panicked like this he got angry and he couldn't help it.

(Y/n) could feel her stomach tensing and her chest quaking as she slowly straightened up so she could pull up her shirt to let Ben see the bruising that was starting to form.

Ben shuffled round so he was in front of (Y/n) rather than at her side but his hands started to shake when he lightly placed them against her stomach. Her skin was very dark red with a tinge of purple adding into the mix and Ben was sure it felt like she was starting to get some swelling. But when his palm pressed a little harder against her stomach (Y/n) winced at the same time Ben felt the baby moving which seemed to make (Y/n)'s pain escalate even more.

"Shit, baby..."

"I'm s-sorry-"

"No! Don't you even say that, this isn't your fault. We're gonna get you help, let's get you in the car and I'll take you to hospital now. Gwil, could you wait with the boys for a bit until I can get my mum to come stay with them? James will be back soon."

Ben ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands and pushing them further back on his head as he tried to think.

James was due home at any time now and someone had to be here when he got back and none of the boys could be left alone. Ben would much rather have Gwilym coming to the hospital with them but he needed someone here with the boys. His mother would have no problem coming to look after them, especially when Ben told her the situation and that she may have to have them overnight if (Y/n) really was going to go into labour. But for now Gwilym was the only person at hand that could look after the boys for them.

"Yeah, yeah that's fine. Right let's get you up then." Gwilym's voice shook as he spoke but he was trying his best to remain calm. He was good with Carter and was fine with settling him because it was very clear that once Carter realised he couldn't go with his parents to hospital he was going to have some sort of meltdown. He was good with Finn who would be panicking and James was fine with Gwilym so it was the best option right now. There was no way Ben could stay home with the boys and let Gwilym take (Y/n) because if (Y/n) went into labour Ben had to be there.

(Y/n) tried to take in a deep breath but it was hard when all she wanted to do was take quick, shallow breaths to get more oxygen round her system. Her watering eyes darted between Ben and Gwilym who both leaned down, ready to try and get her onto her feet.

Gwilym and Ben took one of her hands each and rested their other arms around her waist to support her weight between them, knowing she wouldn't have the strength to stand on her own. They took things slowly, gently pulling (Y/n) up between them but it was clear the moment her left foot was on the ground it was too painful to stand on from how she landed when she fell.

"You okay baby?" Ben leaned his head down to look at (Y/n) properly, knowing she was in a lot of pain with how much pressure she was applying to his hand and how she couldn't even stand up straight. (Y/n) managed to nod her head, biting her lips so hard that she could feel blood welling up in her mouth. "Let's get you to the car."

Gwilym ran his hand up and down (Y/n)'s back as Ben took most of her weight and the three of them slowly started shuffling out of the room. They had all been friends for a long time but Gwilym had never seen (Y/n) in pain and distress like this before and the most panicked he had ever seen Ben was when things took a bad turn with Lucy. This wasn't the kind of situation any of them wanted to be in, when the baby was born it was meant to be surprising but happy and a precious moment. It wasn't supposed to be frightening and catastrohpic with the worry of their baby not being okay.

"I need to s-sit down." (Y/n) buried her face into Ben's chest, tightening her hand around his own as she couldn't surpress a groan from leaving her lips. She couldn't make it down the stairs without stopping and sitting down first because the pain was becoming distressing.

Ben nodded his head, looking to Gwilym before he moved round in front of (Y/n) and went down onto the next step of the stairs. He moved his arms so he was holding (Y/n)'s waist as Gwilym stood behind her keeping her steady and upright before they both helped her to sit down. (Y/n)'s hands dug tightly into Ben's arms as she started to shake the moment she was sat down. The pain started to bolt up her spine and course through her stomach the moment she was sat down but it still felt better than when she was moving.

"I don't want to do this, Ben... w-what if she's not okay?" (Y/n)'s voice trembled and she could barely see Ben through the tears flooding her eyes but she couldn't help the way she was thinking and feeling.

They were nearly two months early, (Y/n) couldn't have their girl now something could go wrong, she would be too small and under-developed. (Y/n) had to wait a few more weeks to make sure their girl would be okay, the hospital would have to delay labour so that everything would be alright.

"She's a Jones, she'll be just fine baby. Both Carter and Finn were born early and they're perfect and she'll be looked after if we do have her now but we don't know if that's gonna happen."

Ben remembered clearly when he'd had all of his boys and it had only been James who was past his due date which had upset Ellie who had been uncomfortable and in pain, wanting the pregnancy to end. Carter had been two weeks early and Finn had been almost four weeks early which had scared everyone. But Finn had only needed to be in ICU for a week and he had no problems before or after that point unlike what they had thought.

"Are you ready to get up?" Gwilym rubbed his hand over (Y/n)'s shoulder, trying to force a smile when she nodded in response.

Ben stayed in front of her, moving down the stairs a bit ahead so he could keep hold of (Y/n) and guide her. Especially in case she tripped or had to sit down then he was there to catch her or help ease her to sit down and Gwilym was behind her so she couldn't fall or hurt herself.

"Alright baby, let's get you to hospital."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is she okay?" (Y/n) sunk her teeth into the skin of her thumb that was pressed between her lips as her eyes switched between focusing on the monitor and the midwife stood next to her. The moment Ben had brought her to A&E someone had come to their rescue and brought them straight through to an examination room.

The nurse they saw had confirmed that (Y/n)'s water had broken, her pulse was very high and she seemed to be going into labour. The next step was to get her into a room and do further tests to see what could be done.

The best outcome the couple were hoping for was that labour could be prevented, but the worst outcome was that labour happened now. They had been told that if the baby didn't seem too distressed and if there were no problems or complications then (Y/n) could be given medication to try and prevent labour from happening and they could wait and see if it stopped. But if any problems were there or there were issues with the baby then either labour would have to happen or a C-section might be needed if it was severe.

Blood tests had been taken, (Y/n) was on an ECG to monitor her pulse and now they were having a scan to check everything with the baby. But (Y/n) couldn't be given any pain medication until all the tests and checks had been completed.

"Well, I can't see any damage done by your fall, the placenta is in tact and hasn't moved and your baby's head isn't lower down meaning she isn't ready to be born just yet."

"So you can prevent labour?" There was a tiny glimmer of hope in Ben's voice as he clasped (Y/n)'s hand in both of his, pressing his lips to her knuckles.

"Her heartbeat is rather high which is what we'd expect after a fall which has caused her some distress but she is relatively fine. But I'd like to wait a few hours before giving you the medication to prevent labour. You've lost a lot of amniotic fluid which will distress her even more, once her heartbeat calms down and we're sure she's stable I think in two or three hours you can have the injection and then we can keep you in for monitoring."

"But her water broke, won't waiting mean we could go into labour?"

"We see this a lot, (Y/n)'s water broke because of the fall, it means her body isn't prepared for labour and the loss of fluid doesn't mean she is in labour yet and she hasn't even started to become dilated which is a very good sign. We can give you some painkillers and the wait will help the baby settle down and then the medication will stop any contractions from happening so labour won't occur. The only problem we will face is keeping you stable for the next few days or weeks with the fluid you've lost. But let's just see how you go with the wait for now."

"Okay, thank you."

When (Y/n) turned to look at Ben he could see the hope sparkling in her eyes as she tightened her hand around his own.

Her body wasn't ready for labour yet and if she got the medication to prevent labour it would stop any contractions and her body would calm down and continue to look after the baby instead of trying to evict her. As long as (Y/n) and the baby calmed down and continued to be stable then everything would swing in their favour.

If it did work, (Y/n) would just have to be very careful and be on bed rest because the lack of ambiotic fluid would make the baby unsettled and also push her body into going into labour.

But right now it was just a waiting game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay (Y/n), how are we doing?" Josey walked back into the room, checking her watch before she looked at the couple in front of her with a kind, comforting smile. She had left (Y/n) and Ben for two hours after giving (Y/n) some painkillers and it was time to check on her and the baby and decide what the next step was going to be.

"I feel a bit dizzy but I'm okay."

(Y/n) could feel a headache slowly starting to form behind her eyes and her head was becoming a bit fuzzy and lightheaded but she couldn't tell whether it was from the fall and stress of the day or the medication they had put her on. Either way, the striking pain in her stomach had gone and the baby wasn't wriggling half as much as she had been which she had been told would be a good sign if she settled down.

"That could be the medication but I'll run a few checks just to be safe, but right now let's see how your little lady is getting on."

Ben slowly tangled his fingers with (Y/n)'s as he turned to look at the monitor when Josey set it up. He had been sat on the edge of the bed with (Y/n) for the last half an hour after ringing both his mother, (Y/n)'s mother and then Gwilym to inform them all of what was happening. It looked like for the next day or two Ben was going to be here with (Y/n) and either way she would be in hospital for up to a week at this rate. The boys were going to have to switch between staying at their grandma's house and seeing Ben when he left the hospital for a few hours.

"Has her heartbeat levelled out?" Ben smoothed him thumb over the back of (Y/n)'s hand, smiling at the image on screen of their baby girl.

"I... I'm afraid her heartbeat has increased, it's much higher than it should be and in this situation that is a bad sign."

"C-can't we wait a little longer, see if she settles? Couldn't the medication settle her if I'm not at risk of going into labour anymore?"

"Giving you the medication isn't safe when she's clearly distressed, it could make her state worse. I can't give you any stabalising medication for her either because it's too dangerous and it could case her heartbeat to become too low. (Y/n), the best and only option I think we have right now is to start labour for you. If we wait you are at risk of getting an infection and she's clearly distressed, the lack of fluid will make that worse."

"No... no I can't have her now." (Y/n) shook her head as her lips wobbled even though she tried her best to stop herself from crying but it didn't work.

Her hands started to shake causing Ben to grip her hand tighter in his own as his other hand scratched at his jaw in a harsh motion (Y/n) knew was to try and calm himself down. They had been praying that they could hold off on labour and wait a few days, possibly even a week or more to give their girl her best chance. Being born now wasn't going to help her.

"Your lack of fluid and how distressed she is means you will go into labour within the next day or two but waiting is too risky with her state. I'm going to check and see if you're starting to dilate or not and if not, I'll set everything up to start labour. A natural birth is the best option for you both but it has to start now for both of your sakes."

Josey waited a moment for (Y/n) and Ben to both nod and agree with what she was saying before she busied herself writing a few notes and putting on her gloves before she sat down on the edge of the bed. A sympathetic, sorrowful look came onto her features showing she knew and understood how bad this news was for them but it was their only option.

But the moment Josey moved the cover draped over (Y/n)'s legs, her chest tightened and her eyes darted to look at Ben.

"(Y/n), the dizziness you're having is because you're starting to haemorrhage... you seem to be starting to dilate which is good it means I don't have to start labour for you. I'm going to give you some clotting medication and get a doctor to check you over and stay to assist during labour."

Ben turned his head so he could look between (Y/n)'s legs, torn in two minds because the blood loss didn't seem to be major but any blood loss at this stage wasn't a good thing.

This wasn't going to go smoothly.

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"Okay (Y/n), the legs are born, a few more big pushes and she'll be here." Josey's voice was encouraging and calm but it didn't make (Y/n) feel much better.

Her lower body had gone numb hours ago, her thighs were burning especially since she was sitting on the very edge of the bed with her legs dangling off the edge and her back was pressed into Ben's chest. He was holding onto her like he was afraid she was going to fall forward into Josey who was kneeling in front of them both. It hadn't taken very long for the doctor to sadly tell them that their girl was going to be born breach and that made labour a bit harder. Sitting up in this position was the easiest way to help their girl be born.

Ben pressed his lips to the side of (Y/n)'s head, noticing how her skin was burning up like she was on fire. Josey and a doctor had been here with them for the last seven hours and another midwife had just entered the room ready to help when the baby was born.

They were predicting with how premature she was that she would have to be taken straight down to ICU when she was born.

"Shoulders are born, one more big push for her head (Y/n). We're almost there, just keep doing little breaths for me now."

(Y/n) nodded before she pressed her chin into her chest, biting down on her lip as she let out a scream with the last push. She could tell the exact moment their girl was born, it felt like a sudden weight was dropped from her stomach that seemed to pull her insides down with it. She leaned her head back onto Ben's shoulder, trying to catch her breaths back but it felt like her lungs were collapsing and her insides and stomach were shrivelling up into nothing.

"I-is s... she okay?" (Y/n)'s voice trembled almost as much as her body was shaking from the shock of what she had just done and gone through. It felt like her body was being shaken back and forth like someone was trying to wake her up or violently gain her attention.

But it was clear Ben had dealt with this kind of situation before with the way he started humming in her ear to try and ground her and give her something to focus on. He kept his arms lightly yet firmly wrapped around her middle with his fingers gliding up and down her arm like feathers tickling her skin. He had to keep her calm and try to give her something to focus on so she could forget about the pain and the shock and so she didn't pass out like he was afraid she was going to.

(Y/n) could barely manage to get her eyes to focus enough to look down in front of her legs to see Josey. Her gaze loosely followed Josey's arms passing their baby girl over to the doctor who gave the couple a calming smile before he set to work on their girl.

Her skin was a mix of very light pink and pale grey underneath the blood and fluids coating her fragile body. And her lips were light blue with hints of grey dabbed in between showing she wasn't breathing and didn't have much oxygen in her system. Ben hated how she looked so limp and lifeless in the doctor's arms, she looked like she was made out of jelly and about to flop and fall out of place at any moment.

Even though Josey was trying to focus on (Y/n) and delivering the placenta, her eyes kept flitting back to glance at the doctor to check on the baby.

Ben watched intently as the doctor placed a small tube down his baby girl's throat after checking her pulse which clearly had to be there. Almost instantly, a murky brown, cloggy fluid started to fill the tube and splutter from the newborn's lips. The doctor turned the newborn onto her side before he removed the tube and started rubbing his hand up and down her back to try and clear the fluid from her lungs. But the noise the baby made was something that made Ben shiver and caused (Y/n) to moan in agony.

It sounded like she was drowning.

She was trying to form her first cry, the first sound of her new life but all that came out was a strangled, croaky noise mixed with the spluttering of the fluids leaving her pale lips.

"Lisa, take her down to ICU get her stabalised and cleaned up please." Doctor Mills turned his attention to the other midwife who was on standby to help when the baby was born. She nodded instantly, watching him place the baby into the incubator and fill out a quick form before motioning for her to take the newborn out of the room.

"Ben...?" (Y/n) turned her head a little so she could look up at him, her eyes pleading for him to find out what was happening.

"(Y/n), your baby's okay but she has to go to the intensive care unit straight away. She's tried to breathe whilst still in the womb and inhaled fluids and she's going into a state of shock. Once the nurses have managed to stabalise her and clear her lungs they can get her washed and you can go and see her, the important thing right now is that she's being cared for and now we need to help you."

Doctor Mills was caring and kept his words slow because he could see (Y/n)'s attention was dithering because of the state of shock she was in. But when he knew she understood and accepted what he was saying, he smiled before he looked down at Josey to know (Y/n)'s progress.

"(Y/n), I need you to push again for me, the placenta is nearly delivered then we can get you sorted and settled down, okay?"

(Y/n) nodded but she could barely feel herself pushing before Josey said the placenta was suddenly delivered and she could relax. All (Y/n) wanted to do was lay down and collapse into a state of sleep with Ben at her side but the thought of their baby was preventing her from sleeping. She wanted to see and hold their baby and make sure she was okay. (Y/n) couldn't sleep in case something happened and no one told her. She had to be awake for any news about her baby.

"What's wrong?" Ben looked over at Josey when he could see the worry in her eyes and the metal dish in her hands containing the placenta.

"(Y/n)'s got a retained placenta, it's broken and some of it is still in the womb."

"Okay honey, we need to lay you on your side and give you some medicine to start some more contractions, that placenta piece has to come away quickly." The doctor's voice was calm as was the look in his eyes but Ben knew his words showed that this wasn't the best situation. If the retained piece of placenta stayed in the womb for too long (Y/n) could get an infection and she had already been prone to infections from losing the amniotic fluid before having contractions.

Doctor Mills helped Ben to shuffle off the bed and then move (Y/n) around. They gently turned her before slowly shuffling her further up the bed until her head reached the pillow. Both men carefully held onto (Y/n) and turned her onto her left side so she was facing Ben to help with her blood flow before Doctor Mills moved her legs. Josey got the medication ready and injected it into her stomach ready to start a few more contractions.

(Y/n) didn't hold the strength to keep her eyes open anymore so she just let them close, she could feel her head sinking into the pillow that was making her already fuzzy head feel like it was floating on air.

She could feel Ben's hand tightly holding her own and when a contraction started she could do nothing but moan and squirm, her muscles were pushing and contracting on demand without her having to concentrate anymore. Everything was spinning, (Y/n) just wanted Ben to lie down with her so she could go to sleep and wake up to have this all be some kind of warped nightmare that ended.

"Okay (Y/n), the placenta's delivered now- doctor she's haemorrhaging again."

The moment Josey took the last piece of the placenta and placed it in the dish beside her, it was as if a tap had been switched on and the bedsheets started to turn red instead of white.

"Post-natal haemorrhage in room four, assistance please. Right, (Y/n) honey you just relax now, we'll get you fixed up so you and your partner can rest." Doctor Mills rubbed (Y/n)'s shoulder for a moment to try and calm her down as a team came into the room.

Ben dug his nails into the back of his head, stretching his arms behind him as he backed up against the wall when kindly gestured to move out the way. He watched the five doctors and nurses flutter around (Y/n), seeing them attach an oxygen tube under her nose and around her ears. One nurse started to gently massage her stomach to try and stop the bleeding as doctor Mills gave (Y/n) another injection into her thigh. And another nurse started moving the sheets from beneath (Y/n) to swap them out as Josey started to clean (Y/n) up and check if she needed stitches or not.

Doctor Mills slipped his arms under (Y/n) enough to lean her up so she could throw up into a bowl when she made a slow, weak movement to signal she was going to be sick. Ben also noticed a nurse upping the dosage of painkillers in (Y/n)'s drip to help calm her down and take away any shock and pain she was going through.

It took about ten minutes of getting her meds sorted, making sure she was breathing enough and finding blankets and heat pads before the panic in the room seemed to die down enough for Ben to stop having a panic attack in the corner. He watched them put (Y/n) onto an IV drip and a blood transfusion, keep her laying on her side and check her heartbeat and her oxygen levels before everyone slowly left the room seeing that she was stable now.

Doctor Mills approached Ben when he was certain (Y/n) was out of immediate danger and was now calm and settled.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmm, is (Y/n) gonna be okay?"

"She's lost some blood but the transfusion will help with that and it will stop her from going into shock and she will be happy to know she doesn't need stitches. She needs rest and monitoring but she will be fine. I'm going to go and check on your baby and when she's also stable, I will find you so you can see her."

(Y/n) didn't look alright to Ben, she was too pale, hooked up to too many drips and machines and she was passed out but as long as she was going to be okay then Ben would stop panicking.

He just wanted his girls to be okay.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #dad! ben #pregnant! reader #gwilym lee #gwilym imagine #imagine #BoRhap

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years

Text

crayons & caresses

summary: you know it’s wrong, that pining after your student’s father is wildly inappropriate, but gosh if john deacon isn’t the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

word count: 12k+

warnings: pining to the extreme!, slight angst, discussions of parental death, health scare + medical response, alcohol, language, innuendo, suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful)

a/n: mechanic/singledad!john is everything i didn’t know i needed in my life. also: WOW this took me a long ass time because i find john the hardest to write, but i love him so. much. so hopefully it’s worth the wait.

(photo: originally from @davidgayhan i think?? ugh look at him. i drool. yes i did set this during the brief short-perm-montreal moment. sue me)

september, 1981.

you love all of your students equally. each one is like a fingerprint on your heart: unique in their own way, made up of patterns and histories you will never be able to appreciate in full before they are whisked away to their next year. it is safe to say you adore the collection of twenty-four seven year olds who walk into your classroom each morning. their bright faces, some still chubby with baby fat, fill the lonely parts of your soul, and you leave your flat each morning with a sense of purpose and duty. you are their teacher, their guide through some of the most crucial parts of learning. it is an honor and a privilege to teach them—each and every one. but there is one student who sticks out among the rest.

his name is beau deacon.

beau is remarkably quiet. he’s small for his age, both in height and in weight. at times, he appears frail, what with the way he sits by himself in the corner during reading hour, flipping through a picture book with glazed over eyes, never really concentrating on what’s before him. he walks slowly during recess, preferring to stay by himself and drag a stick along the blacktop than play a game of kickball with the other boys. he whispers when he speaks and avoids meeting the eyes of those who do try and pry a few words from him.

you try to engage him—really, you do—but nothing seems to stick. not the participation reward system you build just for him, but use for the entire class. not moving his desk closer to yours. not even coercing your best friend ami to bring in her therapy dogs one afternoon early in the year. despite your best efforts, beau remains decidedly uninterested and removed.

it bothers and worries you to the point of questioning your colleague on the matter. martha is sixty, but spry as ever. she’s been your confidant this last year. you’re new to teaching, green as ever, but she has welcomed you with open arms and a plethora of advice. you feel comfortable sidling up next to her in the car-line one friday afternoon. it’s hot outside, summer not yet allowing autumn to take root, so you hold a hand over your eyes to shade yourself from the sun.

“can i ask you something?” you say, keeping your eyes trained on the children who filter out of the school and into their parent’s waiting vehicles.

“as long as it’s not about sex,” martha mutters. “haven’t had a good romp in so long i don’t even know if it still works the same way.”

you swallow a laugh as a trio of students pass you by. their mother waves over her shoulder, shouting her thanks, before shoving the children in the backseat of a tan mini-van. you watch the van pull away, another car rolling forward to take its place, before asking your question.

“beau deacon,” you start, hoping that, if you simply say his name, martha will fill in the gaps herself.

blessedly, martha twists and nods with a knowing smile. “i know that tyke well. had him last year.”

you release a huff of air in relief. “oh thank goodness. i’m almost beside myself. i don’t know what to do with him.” you frown as you attempt to speak as diplomatically about your student as possible. “he’s awful quiet. he doesn’t play with any of the children and barely looks at me when i speak to him. how’d you manage?”

to your dismay, the older woman just shrugs. “i didn’t really. his mum died all sudden like about halfway through the year, and he clammed up. no matter what i did, what tricks i tried to pull, he stayed completely unmovable.”

“oh.” your shoulders drop in defeat. “i didn’t know.” truthfully, your heart tugs for the child. to lose one’s mother at such a tender age? you can’t imagine the world of hurt he lives in. it’s no wonder he sticks to himself.

“you didn’t speak with his father?”

“no. was i have supposed to?”

“no, not necessarily. mr. deacon was helpful on a few occasions last year. we were sort of a united front, i’d say, when things were particularly bad in the beginning. perhaps give him a call. at least to let him know you’re in his corner.” she smiles and squeezes your bicep. “and you can always come to me, love. i may not have all the answers but i do have some.”

“thank you, martha. i think giving mr. deacon a call might be smart—” you turn at the tell-tale sound of feet dragging against the ground. in the few weeks since classes have started, you’ve grown to know the sound of beau deacon’s footsteps better than your own. he’s always on your mind, the sullen little boy with glasses, so it’s hard not to pounce on him with love when you turn around to see him in the school doorway. “oh! beau! we were just talking about you.”

beau stops walking, and his grip tightens on the straps of his backpack. he doesn’t look up at you, doesn’t say anything. he simply stands there, as if he’s listening but doesn’t know how to respond, so you soldier forward.

“do you have any big plans for the weekend, beau?” you ask.

he shakes his head.

“none with your father?”

another shake of the head.

“well, perhaps you’ll do something fun and you can tell us about it on monday, yeah?”

to your surprise, he nods, which is more than he does most days. you can’t help the smile that claims your lips and the way your arm waves a little too hard to his retreating form. he walks to a faded old corvette and opens the passenger door with ease. you can hear a muffled voice—his father’s no doubt—and see the man stretch his arm out to take beau’s backpack.

but then the car door is shut, and the chevy pulls out of the parking lot with too much speed to be safe when a child is in the front.

you glance at martha. she rolls her eyes and mouths men. you can’t help but agree.

a week passes before you finally find the time to phone beau’s father. you find his name—john richard deacon—and a telephone number in beau’s emergency contact form, shoved amongst a stack of other hastily filled-out parent paperwork. there’s no secondary number listed—not even a distant relative or family friend—so if the call doesn’t work, you aren’t sure what your next move will be. even so, after all the children have left and the other teachers are beginning to close their classrooms for the day, you slouch at your desk and punch the numbers into the phone. it rings three times before someone picks up.

“taylor auto-repair. this is rog.”

the voice on the other end is high and scratchy. you’re taken aback, both by the man on the phone and the blaring rock n roll music in the background. you aren’t an expert, but it sounds like zeppelin. not what you’d expected.

“hello?”

you shake yourself free of surprise, and the wheels beneath your chair scrape against the linoleum floor as you sit forward. “oh, sorry. i thought i was calling the deacon residence?”

“deacon? like john deacon?”

“yes, i’m beau’s schoolteacher. i thought—well, this was the number on the contact form.”

there’s a sigh, and the phone brushes against something rough before rog says anything more. “hold on.” when he speaks next, his voice is distant yet poorly muffled. “deaky! there’s some bird on the phone for you! what have i told ya about putting the shop’s number down instead of the house’s? fuckin’ hell, mate.”

you frown, pressing your fingers to your lips as you wait for... deaky... to take the phone from his co-worker. when a new voice does appear on the line, you again find yourself surprised.

“hello? this is john deacon.” john’s voice is almost lilting, like a song. it’s soft, comforting—though how you determine this from four simple words is beyond your understanding.

“mr. deacon, hi! my name is [y/n] [y/l/n]. i’m beau’s teacher. i thought we might have an over-due chat, if you have the time?”

“oh, hello.” there’s a pause on the other end, as if he’s considering whether or not he’ll entertain your out-of-the-blue phone call. “has beau done something wrong?”

you laugh despite the worried edge to his tone. “no, absolutely not! beau is a delight. he’s practically a model student. however, i do have a few concerns... do you have a moment?”

“yes, i can have. just give me a second.” the line goes muffled again, the only sound a fading rolling stone’s song before all goes quiet. you hear a door shut and the squeak of a chair before john speaks again. “i suppose this is about beau’s shyness?”

you choose your next words carefully, uncertain if john simply cannot accept his son’s retreat into himself or if he does not see it. you’d rather not jump to conclusions and alienate him on your first phone call, but you must admit your unease at hearing the word shyness. beau is far more than shy. despite the frown puckering your brow, you hold your concerns close to your chest for the moment.

“shyness is a word one could use, yes.”

“he’s been that way since his mum died last year.”

rolling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “i heard. i’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

john makes a noise somewhere between a huff and a grunt and does not acknowledge your paltry offer of condolence. “if you’re calling to ask how you can fix ‘im, i don’t have any answers for you.”

“i don’t want to fix him, mr. deacon,” you say. “i simply want to help.”

“i’m sure you’ve spoken with mrs. cooper then.” he sighs, and the sound seems to rattle the receiver pressed against your ear. “look, i appreciate what you both are trying to do for beau. but he’s young, and the pain of losing his mum— i just don’t want him to rush into moving on.”

“oh, mr. deacon, that’s not my intention at all!” you wince at the high-pitch of your voice and clear your throat. good lord, this was not going as you’d planned. “i just want him to feel comfortable in the classroom, that’s all.”

“that’s kind of you, but i think it might be easier if you just let beau work it out for himself.”

you fall silent and glance down at the hem of your blouse. there’s a blue thread dangling from the article of clothing, and you pull on it, watching the thread unravel until it falls free from the shirt itself.

in all honesty, you’re puzzled by john’s hesitance to so much as entertain your concern. anyone—student, teacher, classroom parent—who comes across beau knows he’s more than shy. it’s written in his face, in the way he holds himself, in the way he shuffles aimlessly to and fro. god, he breaks your heart. you want to wrap him in a blanket and protect him from the cruel world.

but you’re not his mother. you’re merely his teacher, and you must respect john’s wishes despite how wrong you think they are. perhaps, in time, he will come around, see the need for a little concerted effort in helping beau work through his obvious grief-stricken state.

“is there anything more i can do for you, ms. [y/l/n]?”

clearing your throat again, you sit straighter in your chair and fiddle with a pen on your desk. you click the depressor up and down, up and down. “no, there’s not. i’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

“you didn’t,” john says—and his voice has that indescribable soft quality you noted the moment he first spoke. “really, it does mean something to me that you even thought to call.”

“i care for my students a great deal.” you aren’t sure what brings the words to your lips, but the second they fall past your tongue, a flush crawls up the back of your neck. you’re sure you sound like a petulant child, whining at the mere inconvenience of a rejected idea.

“i can tell.” his tone is anything but salty. in fact, the truth dripping from each word leaves you decidedly flustered. you click the pen faster, your leg bouncing beneath the desk.

“yes—well—i’ll leave you to it.” though you add, “if ever there’s something i can do for beau, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“i’ll be sure to.”

after a rushed goodbye, you drop the phone to its base. the hard-plastic clatters, the coiled wire dropping in a pile on the desk. you press your fingers to your eyelids and groan. both deacon boys, it seems, have the power to infuriate and melt you at the precisely the same moment.

this, you think, does not bode well for the rest of the year.

if you’re being honest, you have to admit that you think of john deacon often as the school year falls into a comfortable rhythm. no matter how hard you try to forget the phone call, forget the way his voice lulled you into a strange sense of serenity, he’s like a specter in the back of your mind: always there and definitely uninvited.

still...

when the children work silently at their desks, you sit behind yours and struggle to keep your mind from wandering to either of the deacon boys. when you greet beau as he walks through the door each morning, you resist the urge to drop a question about his father’s well-being. when the faded red corvette pulls to the curb each afternoon, you bite your tongue and fist your hands at your sides to keep from introducing yourself properly through the open window.

it’s embarrassing, really, how much the phone call with john deacon has affected you. it’s embarrassing how... interested you are in his life. you’re a schoolgirl with a crush—a crush on a man you’ve never even seen! if you were to admit your undue fascination with the deacon household to your best friend ami she would laugh in your face and remind you how desperately you need to get out more. you keep your wonderings and your daydreams to yourself to save her the trouble of telling you what you already know.

come mid-november, when the students are well-adjusted to their daily routine and you’ve learned how to juggle so many personalities at once, you finally pause to take a breath. the breath comes at the end of a school-day. it’s drizzling outside—not raining, but not dry either. the sky is a wash of gray and a deep purple. there’s a storm coming, a bad one too from the looks of it. humming to yourself and contemplating whether or not you should stop by the grocery on your way home, you tug on your jacket and step outside the school into the chilled autumn air.

you’re about to cross the parking lot to your car when you hear a harsh sniffle come from your left. you pause, keys in hand, and twist to see a huddled form on the curb. it’s clearly a student and a young one at that. knees drawn to their chest, backpack large over their back, fingers interlaced on their knees, they are the picture of a frightened schoolchild. the hood of their blue raincoat obscures any defining features, so you hustle to their side and kneel down, but not before glancing at your watch.

nearly four. someone’s been forgotten.

“hey?” you tilt your head to try and catch a glimpse of the face beneath the shade of the jacket hood. “did mum not come through the car line?”

you barely stifle your gasp when the slick raincoat crinkles as the student turns to meet your gaze.

it’s beau deacon.

his eyes are puffy, tears still clinging to his blotchy cheeks. beneath the wide frames of his glasses, fear swims across his gaze. he draws in his lower lip and rubs his hand under his nose. his eyes flicker to the ground, his toes tilting inward.

you press a hand to his shoulder. he feels so small beneath your palm, like a fragile piece of clay, molded by tragedy and loss in such a short span of time. “where’s your father, beau?”

he shrugs. “dunno.”

“i guess he’s running late.” you look at your watch. very late. “should we give him a call?”

beau nods, and you stretch to your full height, offering your hand to help him from the curb. beau does not take it as he stands. he pushes his glasses up his nose and follows you inside the school office where he hesitates in the doorway as you borrow the receptionist’s phone to call the auto-shop.

no one answers.

lowering the phone to its base, you look over your shoulder. through the venetian blinds you can see the sky darkening as you hem-and-haw. in the distance there’s a flash of lightening, and fat raindrops dot the tan sidewalk.

you could leave beau with the receptionist. it’s not uncommon for parents to run late or completely forget about their child. normally, betty calls the child’s guardian and gives the waiting student a granola bar and coloring page or picture book to flip through as they wait for the mortified adult to speed to school. there’s nothing obligating you to stay.

just as there’s nothing obligating you to offer to drive beau home.

you look at betty and calculate the words of your offer. “would it be wrong of me to drive beau home? he lives on my way ‘s all.” boldfaced lie—at least, you think—but what betty doesn’t know can’t hurt her.

betty doesn’t stop clacking on her electronic typewriter. “i don’t think so.” she peers over her glasses at the clock hanging over the door, still typing. “i’ve got a dentist appointment in half an hour, so i don’t have time to wait around today. you’d be doing me a favor, love.”

“alright, it’s settled then.” you slip the thin strap of your purse over your shoulder and turn to beau with a toothy grin. “i’ll drive you home. maybe your father just isn’t feeling well today and overslept?”

beau frowns, and inwardly, you cringe, your smile faltering. beau’s mother died of an illness, so it likely disconcerts him to think of his father in a similar state. in a piss poor attempt at an apology, you grab a piece of chocolate from the bowl near betty’s desk and slip it in beau’s hand as you make your way to the parking lot. the faintest flicker of a grin crosses his face as he methodically unwraps the candy. you take that as a sign of forgiveness.

once beau is snug in the backseat of your station wagon, you pull into traffic with a bubble of giddiness in your stomach. what you’re doing is ridiculous. though you feel horrid beau was left behind, there’s a sick park of you that is glad for it. it’s unlikely you’ll ever meet john deacon unless fate throws you together. he did not attend back to school night, and as a single father, you doubt he has time for any of the other parent-student events on schedule for the rest of the year. in all honesty, you’re taking this opportunity to put a face to the man behind the phone call that’s plagued you with daydreams since it occurred.

if you can just see his face, just learn what he looks like, perhaps the fascination with fade. unless, of course, he turns out to be as attractive as your mind has made him out to be and then you’ll be in even hotter water than you are now.

adjusting yourself in your seat, you glance in the rearview mirror. beau has his head pressed against the foggy glass of the window, his eyes scanning back and forth as he takes in the surrounding scenery. rain droplets create dark shadows over his face, and you wonder if that’s what he feels like on the inside: foggy and rainy and shadowy. you shake the thought free; you read too many melodramatic novels.

“so, beau, what’s your address?” you ask, your tone obnoxiously chipper. he tells you, and you shrug as you tighten your grip on the steering wheel. “gotta give me more than that, hun. do you remember how to get home? do you think you could tell me?”

beau nods and scoots away from the window, leaning nearer the space between the driver and passenger seats. there a gleam in his eye. you catch sight of it as you turn right at his instruction and see him hovering near your shoulder. it seems that with each turn you make his voice inches a decibel louder until you can hear every word with a clarity previously unknown. he’s confident when he’s instructing you, when he knows what he’s supposed to do.

he’s confident when he’s helping.

you tuck the bit of knowledge away for later as you pull into the cracked driveway of a red-brick bungalow. the house is small and unadorned, the homes on opposite sides just as plain and simple. a single spruce tree, like something out of a holiday catalog, is the only foliage in the yard. gauzy curtains are drawn to block the sunlight coming through the two bay windows framing the white front door.

you turn the car off as beau slides across the bench to open the car door. grabbing your handbag, you all but tumble after him, hastening up the sidewalk.

“wait a minute! beau!” you punctuate your call with a breathy laugh and smooth the sides of your hair back as you approach the front door. the bubble of giddiness from moments before has turned to a bubble of nerves, and once again, you realize this moment is entirely ridiculous. still, you adjust your blouse and straighten the crooked edge of your collar.

beau’s left the front door open, his shoes and backpack already tossed on the living room floor. you hesitate at the threshold. you haven’t been properly invited in, but the open door might just be beau’s way of telling you it’s alright to invade his home. at least, that’s the message you decide to take.

crossing the threshold, you hold tight to the strap of your purse and glance around the cramped front living area. beau’s nowhere to be seen, and the home is silent as the grave. you bite the tip of your tongue when your gaze falls over a photograph of a woman holding a baby. it’s beau and his mother; has to be.

maybe... maybe you’ve overstepped your—

“beau, is that you?” the sound of heavy footfalls on stairs snaps your attention away from the photograph. before you can slip away and forget you ever had the silly notion of meeting your student’s father with the intent of something other than a professional hello, a man rounds the corner.

your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. it’s not the john deacon you’d imagined.

he’s shorter than you pictured, only several inches taller than yourself. his jaw is sharp, peppered with a five o’clock shadow, and a thick mustache almost covers his upper lip. a white wife-beater tucked into green trousers completes the ensemble, and his bare feet pad across the floor as he sticks his hand out in greeting.

“you must be the teacher!” he pumps your hand up and down, his grip crushing but his smile wide. his voice is friendly and welcoming, though you can’t be sure it was the voice you heard over the phone. so many days have passed since then, perhaps you just forgot, though it’s highly unlikely.

“i’ve been trying to call deaky ever since i got here, but the damn fool just won’t pick up. i don’t even know where beau’s school is so i couldn’t come and get him myself. the ship we run here isn’t very tight.” he rolls his eyes with a grin. “thanks for bringing him home, darling.”

your head swims as you struggle to keep up with the man’s fast pace. so, he isn’t john deacon? and john deacon isn’t here? you open your mouth to ask the first of several questions but he beats you to it.

“hell, you look positively confused. shut the door, won’t you? the rain’s getting in, and molly was always worried about the the hardwood. i’ll put on the kettle.”

“oh, i don’t—”

he bumps your hip toward the door. “nonsense! deaky will want to thank you for driving beau home.” he’s around the corner before you can refuse, so you shut the front door against the steady rain and slip off your shoes, leaving them beside the two pairs already against the baseboard.

you’re quick to follow him to the kitchen. the walls are a muted yellow, the countertops clear but the sink full of unwashed dishes. the refrigerator in the corner is bare save for the back to school letter you gave to each student to bring home to their parents. that—and a photograph of four men in a basement. it appears to be a homegrown band of sorts, and the man behind the drumkit is shouting at the man who looks like an overgrown string bean. you’re not sure which one is john, so you turn away, feeling rather out of place when the man at the stovetop says:

“beau’s probably in his room. he always holes himself away as soon as he gets back. doesn’t come out until supper. that’s when deaky gets home.” a pair of mugs clatter against each other as he pulls them from a cupboard. “brian says it’s just a phase, that he’ll grow out of it once he processes molly’s death, but i’m not certain.” the man’s eyes flicker to you, and he laughs, loud and short. “oh dear, i’ve done it again! i forgot you’re not in the loop. i’m freddie,” he explains. “part-time nanny, full-time diva.”

you accept the mug of tea as freddie passes it to you, a smile lifting your tight mouth. “[y/n] [y/l/n]. so you’re beau’s... nanny?”

freddie drops to the round kitchen table shoved in the space between the kitchen counter and the wall. you follow suit and stir a drop of sugar in your tea. “you could call it that. i just watch him in the afternoons, between school and deaky getting home.” he sighs. “since molly... well, things have been hard to juggle.”

“i thought mr. deacon picked beau up from school? unless that was you in the car i saw?”

“heavens no! i don’t drive!” freddie laughs again. “that was deaky you saw. he takes his break at the garage long enough to pick beau up and bring him here. i guess he and rog were overrun today. bet beau was terrified. poor dear...”

you glance over your shoulder, down the dim hallway leading to, you assume, beau’s bedroom. there’s a half-full laundry basket deposited outside another open door, perhaps the bathroom. a few mislaid toys litter the carpet. it’s reassuring, knowing that beau has a few good men in his life, willing and ready to raise him. still, there’s a pervading sense of loneliness throughout the bungalow. you saw it in the photos on the living room wall, but it’s here too: in the dead roses, brittle to the touch, in the table vase; in the index-card note tucked on a notch in the cupboard, the feminine handwriting unreadable from your spot at the table.

freddie’s voice is somber when its breaks through the thick air. “complications of pneumonia,” he says, following your gaze to a wedding photo on the hallway wall. “it came on quick but didn’t last long, thank heaven.”

unbidden, tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’ve never felt more like an intruder—and you know why.

your crush on john deacon is misplaced. you see that now. realizing what you’ve done in coming here—twist a child’s terrified moment of abandonment for your gain—makes you sick to your stomach. what kind of person are you? assuming a recently widowed father would be at all interested in his son’s pesky teacher? the thought brings a flush to your cheeks, and you rise from the table all too fast. the mugs of tea wobble when your knee connects with the underside of the table.

freddie frowns at you. “you okay, love?”

“i—” how to explain yourself without sounding a total fool or heartless woman? “i think i’ve overstayed my welcome” is all that comes to mind, and you aren’t surprised when freddie uses his foot to push your chair back out from under the table.

“sit down. john will be home soon. let him thank you then you can go.”

from where you stand, you look to your right. the front door practically screams for you to politely decline freddie’s insistence and high-tail it to your car, to get out while you still have the chance. but he’s making it too easy to stay for what you’ve come for: a peek at the illusive john deacon. you know you should go, that you should leave well enough alone, but despite your best intentions, you find yourself sitting down again and allowing freddie to bombard you with questions about teaching life.

half an hour later, when your sides hurt from laughing while freddie regales you with the dramatic story of beau’s birth, the door to the garage opens and closes with a loud click. you twist in your seat, arm draped over the back, and bite your lip hard to keep from drawing in a sharp breath.

by god, he’s a stone-cold looker. better than you could have imagined.

john deacon stands in front of the garage door, his head of tight curls wet from the rain. he’s tall but not towering, his shoulders made broad by the leather jacket across his back. he hasn’t noticed you or freddie as he’s too preoccupied with wiping the grease on his fingers across a piece of soiled cloth. he turns, not towards you, but towards the hallway when beau tumbles out of his room with a shout of joy. beau races down the hall, his arms extended, and jumps into his father’s waiting embrace. john mumbles something in his son’s ear, ruffling his hair, before dropping him back to the ground. the sullen little boy jumps around his father’s feet, chattering in great detail about his day at school, though he forgoes mentioning his father’s absence in the car-line.

you exhale, a wash of new tears covering your eyes as you stare at beau. he can be happy. you’d thought it impossible.

you must have exhaled louder than you thought because john looks over at the sound. his brow tightens in a frown of confusion, his eyes flicking back and forth between yourself and freddie, but freddie is quick to explain. he stands from the table and takes your hand, pulling you to your feet.

“deaky, this is [y/n] [y/l/n], beau’s teacher. remember you spoke to her on the phone?”

your cheeks heat at the thought of him mentioning the phone call beyond the walls of the auto-shop. warmth spreads over your face even further when he gives you a tight-lipped smile and extends his hand. you slip your fingers over his palm, and he shakes your hand.

for a moment, your hands linger as john glances at beau, who is tucked behind his leg. he cringes, groaning. “please tell me you didn’t go out of your way to bring beau home today?”

you drop your hand from his and clasp your fingers before your waist. scrunching your nose, you tilt your head to the side. “well...”

“bloody hell,” john murmurs. he screws his eyes shut and runs a palm down his face. “i’m sorry,” he says. “you shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“it was no trouble, really. in fact, you live on my way home.” the comment isn’t a falsehood. you’d realized as beau pointed his way home that your flat lie only a minutes down the road. just as it had then, the realization sends a nervous clench to your stomach now. the thought of the deacons so close...

“you must think me a horrible father.” as he says this, john reaches around to smooth his hand across beau’s back. the gesture, done mindlessly, almost makes you laugh. how could anyone find him a horrible father?

“absolutely not, mr. deacon.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward in something close to a smile. “john, please.”

you roll your lips together and blink rapidly to keep your eyes from going wide. john. “lots of people miss the car-line. it happens more often than you think.”

“well, let me give you something for your trouble.” he slides past you, the scent of cologne and car oil in his wake. his movements are stiff, hampered by beau who insists on clinging to his father’s leg, his ankles crossed over john’s foot.

“i don’t want anything, john.” you almost trip over his name. it tastes good, strong and steady. god, you’ve got it bad. “it wasn’t a hassle.”

john ignores you as he slides open a kitchen drawer. unsatisfied with its contents, he reaches for another before meeting your eyes with a wry smile. “all we’ve got is take-out menus anyway.” he shuffles nearer, beau still heavy on his leg. “thank you, ms. [y/l/n], for bringing him home. i got sidetracked at the shop and—” he sighs. “anyway, just... thanks.”

“again, you’re welcome—and call me [y/n].”

there’s a moment where you’re simply staring at one another, the room around you lulled to a comfortable silence. john is handsome, of this there is no doubt. perhaps he’s not striking in a classical way but you’re sure someone would have killed to chisel a bust of his face during the sixteenth century. it’s regal and sure in all the right places, but soft where it counts: around the eyes. when he chuckles at something freddie says, his eyes fold around the edges, and your heart all but gives out.

“what do you say, [y/n]?”

“sorry?” hopeful no one caught you ogling, you bring your attention front and center, turning to freddie. his proposal dawns on you a second too late to be anything but obvious. “stay for dinner? no, i can’t do that.”

“why not?” freddie reaches out to pinch your forearm. “it’s our way of saying thanks, and neither of us will try to poison you with our cooking. we’ll just have brian bring something ‘round.”

you shake your head and scoot around freddie to lift the handbag hanging from a kitchen chair. “i’d like to, but i’ve stayed too long already. perhaps another time.”

prying beau from his leg, john trails behind freddie as you make your way to the front door. freddie wishes you well, reminding you to drop by any time, and john simply lifts his hand in a motionless wave. on the front stoop, hair tangled around your face by a sharp wind, you lean your torso across the threshold.

“mr. deacon—i mean, john,” you say quickly, willing your voice to sound stronger than you feel. “if you’d like, i can drive beau home in the afternoons. i live not five minutes from here, and it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

john hesitates. beau stands in the kitchen, his head poked around the corner. john looks over at his son then back at you. “that’s a kind offer, but i like coming to the school.”

your eyes flick to beau, to his round, soft face and intelligent eyes. yes, if you were his mother you’d enjoy coming to pick him up too.

with a nod, you retreat into the wind. “well, the offer still stands.”

as you slide into your car and pull out of the driveway, waving to beau who now stands in the doorway, you hope against hope that john will accept the offer one day—just so long as it means you get to see him again.

he calls during the middle of show-and-tell. you nearly forgo the call as abby sinclair insists on lifting her pet toad for all to see and you’re worried she’ll drop it, but you’re waiting for a message from the front desk—missing package again—so you pick up on the last ring.

“hello?”

“hi, ms. [y/l/n]. it’s john deacon. is this a bad time?”

“oh, mr. deacon!” you wince at the delight coloring your voice and tear your eyes away from abby, who has handed her toad off to max. “i was expecting a call from the front office.”

he snorts out a rushed laugh. “sorry to disappoint.”

you brush a lock of hair behind your ear. “no, not at all.” out of the corner of your eye you catch max squeezing abby’s toad between his palms, and you push the phone away from your ear. “oy! max, knock it off! abby, please put the toad back, dear?”

john is chuckling on the other end of the line when you return to the call. “sorry,” you say. “show-and-tell.”

“i know. beau was excited this morning.”

with a smile, you glance at the boy in question. “he did very well. everyone was impressed with what he brought.”

“brian made that for him as a birthday gift, so he can’t take any of the credit.”

“he didn’t! he explained who made the planets, but he did want to be clear about who painted the stars.” you hesitate, the sound of laughter over your shoulder reminding you not to get too entangled by the sound of john’s voice. “is there something i can do for you, mr. deacon?”

“right, yes. well, it’s a bit awkward... do you remember a few weeks ago when you drove beau home?”

you nod, the memory lifting from your heart with ease. how could you forget? you only replay the evening like a film every night before you fall asleep. “of course”

“do you remember offering to drive him home again?”

“yes.”

“i’m in a jam at the shop and can’t leave this afternoon. would you mind? taking him home, that is.”

you answer without hesitation. “i can do that. it’s not a problem.”

“you’re a life-saver. it’s just with freddie not driving... i guess what i mean to say is thanks. it helps me out a lot.”

“i’m happy to do it, john.”

“i promise i’ll make it worth your while this time. proper take-out and all.”

“you really don’t have to do that,” you say, hoping he does anyway.

“no, freddie will insist. i’ll let you get back to class for now. thanks, [y/n].”

“don’t mention it. good luck with your jam at the shop. i hope it’s cleared up soon.”

“me too. all the sooner to get back to beau—and you.”

he hangs up before you can respond, and you’re left with your jaw scraping the floor and your heart in your throat.

all the sooner to get back to you.

the words circle your head like a drug for the remainder of the day. you can barely focus as you teach, stumbling over your words and through math equations and spelling tests.

surely he didn’t mean it like that. he probably just tacked you on at the end of the sentence in his haste to get back to work. he probably wasn’t thinking when he spoke.

but, by god, you were listening.

you’ve never been so head-over-heels for a man in your life. each day when you wake up with john at the forefront of your mind, you wish for a morning where you can stay in bed and dream of him all day—his voice, his smile, his gentle way with beau. it all makes you crazy. ami calls your fascination puppy love and claims it will fade with time, but you wonder if it’s gone deeper. you’re interested in more than john deacon’s looks. you’re interested in what makes him tick and whether or not he’s in a band with the three other men who constantly appear in every conversation you share and whether or not he misses his wife and what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning. you what to know him and be known by him.

all the sooner to get back to you.

perhaps it’s wishful thinking—a dreamy idea on the part of a lovesick woman—but part of you wonders if he feels the same way about you.

driving beau home becomes part of an unspoken routine. after sharing dinner at the deacon household that second evening, john admits when walking you to your car how overwhelmed he can feel between his job at the auto-shop and his responsibilities with beau. with a tentative hand on his forearm, you promise you’ll help lighten the load. he thanks you by squeezing your fingers with his, and then he’s gone.

it begins by driving beau home every monday, wednesday, and friday. you enjoy your time with him. as soon as he settles in the back seat of your station wagon, he comes alive. the protective shell he wears in the classroom is replaced by the bright and earnest eyes of a seven year old boy, curious about the world and all it has to hold. he asks you questions and tells you stories, and you laugh as you watch the light dance in his eyes. he’s a sweet child, and you truly treasure the afternoons you spend with him.

one friday, you drop him off and find the cozy bungalow empty. beau has stopped retreating to his room once returning from school—at least, this is what freddie tells you—so you’re not completely surprised when beau invites you in for an afternoon snack. you are surprised by the empty house, however. freddie is nowhere to be seen and neither is john. what concerns you even further is when beau opens the refrigerator and slams it shut with a huff.

“nothin’,” he mutters, slumping to the table with a groan.

“what?”

“there’s nothing in the fridge.”

“what do you mean by that?” you cross the floor and open the fridge, hoping beau’s comment is nothing more than a hungry child displeased with the array of choice and nothing to his liking, but you find his statement to be true. the fridge is woefully stocked—naught but a half-filled carton of orange juice, three apples, and a sandwich wrapped in tinfoil. you glance over your shoulder. “is it always like this?”

“no.” beau circles about on his chair. “but it’s happened a few times since dad and uncle rog got more busy at the shop.”

“well, that won’t do. grab your shoes, beau, we’re going to the market.”

once returned from your grocery run, you teach beau how to make spaghetti. he stands beside you on a stool, pushed up on his toes as he watches you prepare the boiling water and pasta. as you wait for the pasta to soften, you set about crafting a homemade pasta sauce. it’s your mother’s recipe, and it’s easy to make. easy enough that you allow beau to carefully slice the tomatoes under your supervision and dice the onions and sprinkle the spices.

the kitchen smells like your childhood: fragrant yet simple, sweet and comforting. somewhere in the waiting for the sauce to simmer, beau turns on a radio and draws you to the center of the kitchen. he holds your hand tight and kicks his feet to the music. you laugh and mirror his movements. he grabs your other hand and steps on his stool, forcing you to bend in an awkward twirl around his finger. you struggle but complete the movement, though he attaches himself to your shoulders like a barnacle. you whirl around on your socked feet in attempt to toss him off, but he holds tight, his fingernails digging into the skin of your collarbone. he squeals in your ear, a mixture of laughter and gasping breath and shrieks.

“mama, mama, stop!”

he says it without thinking, his head lolling against your shoulder as you stop short at the sound of his breathless voice. he giggles against your back then releases himself and slides to the floor. you stare at him, feel his words in the back of your throat like an uncomfortable burn, and then you hear the garage door shut.

you swallow hard and force your eyes from the yellow-and-white linoleum floor. beau hops from his stool, sauce-covered spoon in hand, and rushes to his father’s side.

“daddy, look, we made dinner! miss [y/l/n] and me!” he tugs on john’s shirtsleeve, but john’s just staring at you, his face unreadable. beau turns to one of the other three men crowding the hall behind john. “uncle roggie, taste it!” he forces the spoon in the face of a mulleted blond.

eager to break the thick tension, you motion to the spaghetti. “i—there wasn’t anyone home so...” your sentence trails off, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

so many eyes on you. you feel exposed against them all, caught in a domestic moment with a child that’s not your own in a home that’s not your own.

john looks over his shoulder, eyes flashing in anger. “fred?”

freddie winces. “about that, deak.” he rubs the back of his neck and glances at beau. “i can explain later.”

“you’d better,” john mutters.

“i should go,” you say at once, hastily grabbing your things from the table. your keys jingle in your hand with the force of your anxiety, and you stub your toe against the floor in your hurry to put your shoes back on.

john’s hand on your arm stops you. you look up, stooped as you try to slip the back of your sandal over your heel. he looks down at you, face still remarkably unreadable. “no, please stay,” he says. “you made supper.”

you shake your head and rise to your full height. “i’ve intruded enough already.”

you’re embarrassed, too. the gaggle of men heard beau’s slip up; they heard him mistake you for his mother—and certainly they saw the immediate flush of happiness rise over your cheeks at the sound.

mama. you’d always hoped, always wished, someone would call you that one day. you just didn’t think you’d hear it from a student with a deceased mother and a father you pined after first.

“[y/n], stay.” john’s voice is soft, breathy, and his eyes flit back and forth between yours with a startling amount of intensity.

how can you say no?

once the dinner has been divided, you sit beside john on the couch in the living room. the kitchen table is too small to host the gathering, so the living room was deemed appropriate just this once, to beau’s great delight. he sits on the floor at the coffee table, a tall glass of milk beside his plate of pasta, his eyes bouncing over everyone in the room with unrestrained joy.

“beau, why don’t you introduce everyone for miss [y/l/n]? she doesn’t know all your uncles.” john nods to his son in encouragement, and beau is only happy to take the job.

standing, beau crosses first to the impressively tall and curly-haired man sat beside him on the floor. “this is uncle brian. he likes space and teaches all the big kids at uni.”

he moves to freddie, who sits on a plush armchair. “this is uncle freddie, but you already know him.”

the last man leans against the foyer table, his ankles crossed and sunglasses still perched on his nose. beau pats his arm. “this is uncle roger and he works with daddy.” in a stage whisper, he adds, “he thinks he’s a lot cooler than he really is.”

roger guffaws and lightly pushes beau’s head to the side. “oy, you twerp, take that back!”

glancing about the room, you nod in greeting. “it’s nice to meet you all. i’ve heard quite a bit.”

brian smiles at you from the floor. his legs are bent awkwardly beneath the coffee table, and you’ve noticed the way he helps beau cut his side salad and keep sauce from dripping to the area rug. “all good things i hope?”

“oh yes, of course.”

“[y/n], dear, you really must tell brian what that student of yours did last week,” freddie pipes up. “it had me laughing well into the night. i’m sure some of his twenty-year olds are much the same.”

“i shouldn’t, fred.” you look at beau, who is watching you in interest.

freddie nods in understanding and tugs on his earlobe. “little ears, yes. maybe another time.” he pushes brian’s shoulder with his foot. “really is a riot of a story.”

as supper progresses, conversation twists and turns down different avenues. you explain how you came to teach in the area and find you used to work with one of brian’s newer colleagues. freddie tells the group about his recent run-in with an angry bird watcher in the park. his gestures are so grandiose he whacks roger in the chest, who has come to sit on the arm of fred’s chair. there’s more laughter than there is silence, and you settle back in the couch. at one point, john drapes his arm over the back of the couch—not around your shoulders, but close enough to send your heart into overdrive. it’s all you can focus on—the proximity of his muscular arm behind your head—as brian explains to beau the difference between the big and little dippers. even as roger describes the ramshackle band they four participate in on the weekends, you barely register the words because you swear to the high heavens you feel john’s pointer finger purposefully brush against your shoulder.

beau begins to yawn sometime near the eight o’clock hour, and you jump from the couch when you realize you’ve stayed so late.

“good lord, i’ve got to go!” you shuffle about the room, gathering your belongings, as john rises behind you. “i didn’t know it was so late!”

his hands are in his pockets, and he studies you as you put your shoes on. “got a big date tomorrow?”

you frown. “no,” you say on a laugh. “i’ve actually got breakfast with my mum.”

he looks away for a moment, but you can’t help but note the edge of a smile.

he grabs his jacket from the coat-stand when you’re ready. “i’ll walk you out.”

at the door you wave to the others. “good night, all! it was nice to meet you.”

roger tips an imaginary hat. “i’m sure we’ll meet again, [y/n], if deaky has anything to say about it.”

freddie kicks the back of roger’s leg, and the injured man doubles over in a yelp of pain. “you fucker!” freddie mutters. “you know that—”

john ushers you out the door before you can see or hear any more.

the night air is chilly, and you warm your arms around yourself. you reach for your keys in the depths of your purse and slide them into the lock on the driver’s side of your car. it’s dark out. you can barely make out john’s features beneath the light of the moon, but when he shuffles to the side, an automatic flood light turns on above the garage. you blink against the sudden light and smile, chuckling beneath your breath as your vision adjusts. you’re not eager to leave quite yet, and he doesn’t seem eager to send you away, so you both stand, looking at one another in the darkness of the drive.

“your friends are nice,” you say.

he hums in agreement. “m’yes, they are. we just started as a screw-around band a few years back, but when molly got sick...” he pauses, clasps his hand on the back of his neck, and shrugs. “they’ve been my lifeline, y’know?”

“i can’t imagine what that was like, losing her. i’m glad you had them around.” you suck in a deep breath. “about earlier... i didn’t know beau was going to say that, and i’m sorry it happened. i realize that my... involvement might appear to be me wheedling my way into your family, but that’s not it, really! i mean, i like you and beau—as friends—but i’m not trying to...” you sigh, shaking your head. “i’m sorry it happened ‘s all. i don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

before you know what’s happening, john’s reaching out to cup your cheek. his smile is soft in the glow of the moon and the floodlight, and your heart stops in your chest.

his thumb brushes over your cheekbone. “i haven’t seen beau that happy in a long time. you’ve brought a lot of joy back into the house, [y/n].”

you’re sure you’re sweating despite the chill of night. you shake your head, but his hand holds fast against your face. “no,” you whisper. your voice sounds heady, even to your own ears. “beau’s just a good kid.”

“yes, and you’re a good teacher.”

is his face inching closer? you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

“a good teacher and a good person.”

if it weren’t for your firm hold on the car door handle, you think you might slip to the ground in a puddle of goo.

his lips are on yours, then, and you fall into his arms as he holds you against himself. you have dreamt of this moment far too many times to count, but you never thought it would happen. really, you thought you would finish the year without ever knowing the taste of john’s deacons lips.

but there he is, and there you are, and he tastes like the wine he drank during supper. he is more eager than you thought he would be, and soon he has your back pressed against the door of your car. you huff into his mouth and feel your eyes roll back into your head when he drags his lips across your jaw, inching closer to that spot behind your ear. your arms practically quiver around his shoulders, and you open your eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of a particularly bright star winking down at you.

he catches your lips again, and you feel hot and delicious all over.

“john,” you mumble against his mouth. “john.”

loathe as you are to stop the moment, you do, pushing his shoulders until he pulls himself away. his hand still cradles your hip, and he looks flushed in the moonlight. you’re sure you look equally as rumpled.

you grin. “well.”

he matches your smile, though it’s fleeting. “call you, yeah?”

unlocking your car door, you nod. “please do, mr. deacon.”

he shakes his head on a chuckle and shuts the door, waving gently as you pull out of the drive. when you’re several homes away, out of eyesight, you drift to the side of the road and blast the air conditioner. then you pound your fists against the steering wheel and let out a muffled squeal of delight.

he doesn’t call you.

when you sit down to think about it, it’s not that great of a surprise. you’ve been around him only a handful of times, and though you’ve both been comfortable in those moments, you don’t blame him for resisting whatever it is he feels for you. there’s beau to think about. you’re his teacher; surely there’s some line you shouldn’t be crossing? there’s molly too, and her memory and the years they spent together and the child they had together.

if anything, you figure he’s using you to test the waters of romance again. those stolen touches and deep stares and that kiss in the drive—it’s all just experimentation. the conclusion drawn from those experiments? he’s not ready.

you sigh, take another sip of wine. maybe you should stop driving beau. you like john; you like him a lot. and after that kiss, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. you thought about him before, but never this much. he threatens to consume your every waking moment, and it scares you because he’s not interested. desperately pining after a disinterested man means one thing: ruin. if you stop driving beau home, put some distance between yourself and the deacons, the puppy love and infatuation will fade over time.

it has to or you’ll go crazy.

it’s early evening, and your stomach grumbles. your flat is quiet as you putter around the kitchen in search of a suitable supper. there’s not much in the cupboards and even less in the fridge. you desperately need to go to the grocery store. take-out it is. withdrawing a handful of menus, you spread them out on the counter and flip through them mindlessly.

your thoughts are elsewhere. always on john.

you wonder what compelled him to kiss you. he’s an enigma, john deacon. you’ve seen him in moments of great levity—when he’s around beau or his friends or recounting a story from his youth. he has an infectious laugh, delightful crinkles around his eyes, and a quick wit. but he can be hard, too, like an immovable stone. he’s quick to toss a glare at anyone in his way in those moments of weakness, and his biting wit can turn sour at the drop of a hat. you chalk it up to weariness, those moments. weariness, loneliness, frustration. it doesn’t phase you, though perhaps it should.

with a groan, you drop your forehead to the cool counter and shut your eyes. the kiss lingers on your lips; it has the entire week since. you want him badly—in more ways than one.

the telephone rings, and you startle, clutching a paper menu to your chest. “fuck,” you whisper. you need to get a hobby other than daydreaming. pressing the phone to your ear, you barely get out a word of greeting before someone’s shouting at you on the other end.

“[y/n]? it’s fred! we’ve got a fuckin’ problem over here.”

you frown. “freddie? what’s going on? why are you are john’s? it’s a saturday.”

“no time for that! how fast can you get here?”

“well, i don’t know. i’ve got to—”

“beau’s sick! he’s on the bathroom floor, moaning and groaning and—shit!—[y/n], i don’t know what to do!”

“i’m sure it’s just a tummy ache, fred,” you say. “i see it all the time in my class. give him some pepto and he’ll be fighting fit in the morning.”

“no, [y/n]!” something in fred’s tone—a raw, animal fear—has you standing straight, your heart stuttering in your chest. “he said he feels like he’s gonna die just like molly did!”

“okay, okay.” you begin to move toward your bedroom, but are yanked back by the phone chord attached to the wall. you stumble backwards with a grunt. “okay, i’m coming, fred. just hold tight.”

“fucking hurry!”

you slam the phone down, rush to your bedroom to change from your nightclothes, and jump in the car without a pair of shoes. as quickly as you can you race to the deacon household. the sun dips low, casting an orange glow over the suburban streets lined with family cars. you grip the steering wheel tight, your heart thumping a prayer of protection for beau.

the driveway of the bungalow is empty, the garage door thrown open. the old convertible john toys with in the evenings is parked inside, but his everyday vehicle is gone. cutting the engine of your car, you run through the garage and into the house. fred stands in the hallway, pressed against the bathroom door. he looks ridiculous, clad in a bright yellow bathroom and bunny slippers, but he pounds his fist against the door, pleading for beau to unlock it and let him in. he turns at the sound of your bag dropping on the carpet.

“oh, thank god,” he breathes. he grabs your arm and wrenches you to his side. “beau, miss [y/l/n] is here. why do you talk with her, huh?”

before you say anything to beau, you frown at freddie. “where’s john?” your whisper sound harsh in the dim lighting of the hallway.

“at the shop. overtime. i can’t reach him.”

you jerk your head to the phone sitting on a side-table in the living room. “go try again and i’ll stick with beau here.” when he’s gone, you slide to a sitting position on the floor and press your ear to the thin wood of the door. “beau? beau, honey, it’s me.”

beau only groans in response.

“beau, can you please open the door? i want to help you. that’s it; just help.”

there’s a pause then you hear: “no. go away.”

“it’s okay if you’re embarrassed, beau. we all get sick sometimes. fred and i just want to help you feel better.”

there’s the sound of water sloshing and then a hard sniff. “i want my mommy.”

“oh, baby, i know.” you clear your throat to work past the lump rising to the surface. “come on, just let me in. i promise it’ll be okay.”

“but... what if i die like her too?”

“that’s not gonna happen, beau. i promise.” he doesn’t respond, so you plead once more. “please let me in.”

he shuffles to the door, unclicks the lock, and cracks it open. through the opening, you can see his pale face gleaming with sweat. gently, you push the door open further.

beau’s curled on the floor, his head bent toward his knees. his arms tighten around his stomach, and a spasm ripples through his body. he’s dripping with sweat, his star wars pajamas soaked through. hot air clogs the room, and you switch on the overhead fan. pressing your fingers to his forehead, you cringe and draw back. he’s burning up.

“beau, baby, what hurts?” you finger some of the sweat-matted hair away from his forehead.

“my tummy.”

“what’s your tummy feel like?”

beau shakes his head into the floor. “bad.”

“do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

“already did. on my floor.” he opens his eyes long enough to stare at you through thick lashes. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t apologize about that. we’ll get it cleaned up later. i’m just gonna go get you some water, okay?”

he groans, shifting against another spasm of pain. “okay.”

stepping back into the hall, you grab freddie’s arm before he can slip into the bathroom. you tug him to the safety of the kitchen. his eyes dance between yours, expectant.

“well?”

“did you get ahold of john?”

“no, the fucker.”

“we’ll have to go pick him up then.”

fred’s brow twitches. “what? why? what’s wrong with him?”

you throw a glance down the hall when beau whines. “i think it might be his appendix. my dad’s burst last summer and he looked a lot like beau does now.”

“fuckin’ hell.” freddie runs a hand across his mouth. “just what deaky needs.”

you nod in agreement. “i know. we’ve got to take beau to a hospital, though, before it gets any worse.”

“yeah, yeah, i know. go get the car started and i’ll meet you in a minute.”

several minutes later, you’re en route to the auto-shop, freddie cradling beau in the backseat of your station wagon. the drive is tense, your bare foot hard on the gas pedal. beau wrestles and whines against freddie’s hold, continuously asking for his parents and where you’re taking him.

no one wants to say the word hospital, so his cries go unanswered.

freddie directs you to the auto-shop, his phrases terse, and you pull into the drive with a sharp squeal of tires on gravel. with the car still running, you hurry across the parking lot, loose pebbles catching on your feet. music blasts from a stereo within the garage. it’s loud and obnoxious and keeps you from locating john fast enough.

“can i help ya, miss?” a lithe man steps out of a side office, his hairline receding and face near gaunt.

“yes—i’m looking for john deacon.”

the man continuously wipes his hands on a dirty rag. none of the oil and grease on his fingers budges. “he’s down there.”

dirt and grime covers the bottoms of your feet as you race down the shop. cars of all varieties line the wall to your left, some stationary on the ground, others lifted towards the vaulted ceiling. there’s a handful of men at work, but you don’t recognize any of them as john. you’re prepared to start shouting his name when a familiar voice stops you.

“[y/n]?” it’s roger. “can’t get enough of our deaky, can you?” he’s chuckling as he steps out from behind a truck. “what are you doing here?”

“it’s beau,” you say, and his face falls.

“over here.” roger wastes no time in finding john beneath a volkswagon beetle. only john’s legs are visible, his knees bent and leather boots firm on the floor. he curses when roger hooks the toes of his shoes around a curve in the sliding plate on the floor and drags john out from under the car.

“what the fuck, rog? i—” john stills when his eyes land on you. his muscle tee is loose over his chest, and a line of grease mars his forehead. he swallows. “[y/n]... i...” he sits up. “i’ve been meaning to—”

though you’re curious about the end of his sentence, you cut him off. “beau’s sick. we’ve got to take him to hospital.”

the blood drains from john’s face in an instant. the wrench in his hand clatters to the cement ground, and he’s grabbing your elbow, pulling you toward the exit, before you can say anything more.

“crystal, i’m gone!” he shouts, practically shoving you in the direction of the car.

there’s either no reply or you don’t hear it because john shouts for freddie to move the fuck over and give him beau. you slide behind the wheel and pause, twisting to catch a look at the scene in the back.

beau looks like a newborn swaddled in his father’s arms. his face is wet with tears and sweat, and he sobs in his father’s grasp. john feels beau’s forehead and frowns, muttering an oath under his breath. then his eyes flick to yours.

“what are you waiting for? go!”

you don’t need to be told twice.

it’s another fifteen minutes before you reach the hospital. your head throbs under the stress of it all: beau’s pitiful moans for help, john urging you to go faster, freddie barking directions as he slaps the headrest behind you. before you’ve pulled to a complete stop, john is out, beau in his arms. you shoo freddie after him.

“go! i’ll park the car.”

by the time you’ve found a parking space and picked your way across the parking lot, beau’s been admitted for emergency surgery. his appendix, as you suspected. it’s a routine procedure, and he’ll be fine within the next hour. relief floods your system at the news, and you find john and freddie sitting beneath a large fish tank in the waiting room. you take the open spot beside john and cross your ankles.

“your feet are disgusting,” fred says. he points to the bottoms of your feet, dark with dust, dirt, and grime.

you shrug. “forgot shoes.”

the quiet of the waiting room is both a comfort and annoyance. a clock on the wall ticks loudly, and the fish tank bubbles at an uneven rate. every breath you take feels too loud, and the antiseptic smells cling to the inside of your nose.

still, the quiet gives you a moment of rest. you catch your breath. you let the knowledge of skilled and capable doctors working on beau ease your heart-rate. it will all be okay; he’s going to be okay.

you glance at john. his fist is pressed against his mouth, his eyes shut. his leg bounces, and you dare to reach over and lay your hand against his knee. he stills, his eyes flashing to you.

“he’s going to be okay, john.”

on the other side of john, freddie jumps to his feet. “i’m going bananas just sitting here.” he rubs the side of his head. “might burst. i’m gonna give brian a call.” he stalks away, his bunny slippers slapping against the linoleum floor.

you shake your head, biting back the urge to smile.

but then john’s fingers curl around yours, and you can’t help but give into the grin.

you look up, meet his eyes.

“i didn’t call you,” he says.

“no, you didn’t.”

he shifts in seat and looks to the floor. “you should be wearing shoes.”

at the turn of conversation, you frown then follow his gaze. “yes, i suppose.”

“take mine.” he releases your hand to bend down and undo his laces.

“no, john, don’t be silly. i’m fine.”

“please, [y/n], take the shoes.” he slides the boots toward you, and you begrudgingly slip your feet into the warmth of his shoes.

you look silly, the pair of you—your ill-fit mtv t-shirt, loose jeans, and oversized leather boots; his muscle tee with the aptly faded word muscle scrawled across the chest, his faded jeans, and socked feet. one of his toes pokes through the end of his sock, and his exposed arms look cold in the frigid air of the waiting room. you laugh.

“we look like a pair of bikers or something.”

the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “not much of a biker. that’s crystal’s territory.” he doesn’t look at you when he continues speaking. “i’m sorry i didn’t call.”

on a sigh, you drag the boots across the carpet. though it pains you to do so, you let him off the hook. “it’s not a big deal, john. it was just a kiss. no promises.”

“i know.” his head tilts to the side. “but i wanted to call you. nearly did twice, but i chickened out.” he turns, then, and meets your eye. “i like you, [y/n].”

you smile, but know it doesn’t reach your eyes. still, you reach for his hand again. “i like you too, john. i’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your family.”

he shakes his head, and when he speaks, his voice is firm. “no, i like you. that’s why i kissed you and that’s why i didn’t call. because you make me so bloody nervous.”

your shoulders drop, as does your jaw.

“ever since you dropped beau off that first time, i’ve been thinking about you and about you and him together and then he called you mum and i saw the way you acted with him and—” he pauses for a breath. “molly was different with beau. i mean, she loved him, but she was always so fragile and worried and—and that’s not the point! the point is that you make beau happy and you make me happy. and i want to be happy again.”

“john...”

his grip on your hand tightens as he leans closer. “make me happy, yeah? i’m stubborn as a mule and shy, too, but i want you—badly.”

the fire in your heart spreads at his words. it spreads throughout your body until you feel like you could burst and shine a light into even the darkest corners of the earth. a laugh bubbles forth from between your lips. you lift a hand to stifle it.

“you want to know something?” you ask.

“what?”

“i’ve been pining after you, john deacon, ever since i heard your voice over the phone. i was content to just wallow in my daydreams, but this seems better.” you lift your fingers to brush his chin. “a lot better.”

“i can’t promise i’ll make a good boyfriend. i’m pretty rusty.”

“me too. we can be rusty together.”

he grins, leans forward further, his nose brushing yours. “can’t promise there won’t be hiccups. i’ve got baggage.”

“i can carry it.”

he kisses you, his hand on the back of your head, keeping you firm against his mouth. you grin, your teeth knocking his as you laugh. his curls are soft against your fingertips, and you hold on for dear life when he chuckles into your smile.

“mr. deacon?”

john kisses you once, twice more, before pulling away to look at the doctor. “yeah?” he doesn’t sound the least bit embarrassed to be caught in such a position in the middle of a hospital waiting room, but you hide your face against his neck. your cheeks hurt your smile is so wide.

“beau’s ready to see you now.”

john stands and extends at hand. “comin’, dove?”

your footfalls are hard against the ground, the boots heavy around your ankles, as you walk with him hand-in-hand to beau’s hospital room. you lean against his side, breathe the comfort of him in, and smile.

yes, this is much better than your daydreams—baggage, boots, beau, and all.

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon fic #queen #queen fic #j writes

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jae-daddy · 4 years

Text

Chubby (20) (Final)

Jaebum AU Series

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen / fourteen / fifteen / sixteen / seventeen / / eighteen / nineteen / twenty (final)

pairing: jaebum x reader genre: romance, mature, drama plot: you are getting bullied and im jaebum, your crush, decides to help you by fake dating you a/n: at the end, hope y’all like it <3 not edited... thank you for everything <3

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Jaebum through your blurry tears. You couldn’t watch what you had done to him. You didn’t want to see how much you had broken him.

Your hands tightly clutched onto your skirt as tears fell from your eyes.

Something about Jaebum had always soothed you. Something about him always made you forget your haunting memories. There was something about the way Jaebum’s eyes shone that always told you that he understood.

You had seen ghosts similar to yours haunt his smile before.

But now, you realise they were the same demons. You were the reason for them; you had created those demons.

Your cowardness was the reason why he would miss his sister forever. You were the reason why a part of him would always remain broken.

You had done this to Nora. You had done this to Jenny. You had done this to Jaebum.

You had done this to the boy who smiled with sunshine, and whispered summer wind into your heart. You had done this to Jaebum. You have given him wounds that he would carry forever.

You bit your lip as you thought of last night. When your biggest worry was Jenny, now it didn’t seem that significant. It was nothing compared to the pain in your heart as you thought about the ache in Jaebum’s.

He had told you he loved you. He told the girl who killed his beautiful sister, Nora, that he loved her.

You hated yourself.

“Jaebum,” you whispered, your voice so soft. You were scared to speak any louder. You weren’t scared of Jaebum, but you were scared of something else. You were scared to break the delicate calm sticking to the air.

You knew it was the silence before the storm. You knew whatever happens next will be painful and messy. You knew you were standing in front of the storm slowly creeping towards you.

But you didn’t want to run away.

Even as disgust for yourself ran through your veins, you wanted to remain next to Jaebum. You didn’t want to leave him alone. You wanted to be there for him, no matter how he reacted, you wanted to be there for him.

It didn’t matter if the storm coming tore you to pieces, if it meant not leaving Jaebum alone, you would stand through it.

“I know,” Jaebum spoke breaking the silence.

You bit your lips as you closed your eyes tightly.

Did he know how you felt? Did he know how your heart was breaking into a million pieces? Does he know how every inch of your body and mind was telling you to run away, but you remained on his couch because your heart couldn't move?

You peered up at Jaebum, your vision clear for a second before new tears sprung in them.

Jaebum was looking at you now. His face dark in thought, his eyes burning and his lips drawn into a frown.

You hated seeing him like this.

“I knew it from the beginning,” Jaebum finally said.

Your whole world rung with blinding white as everything in you froze. You blinked through your tears as you looked at Jaebum who lifted his gaze from the ground to look at you.

The way Jaebum looked made you hold your breath. His face pained with guilt and sadness as he looked at you with distant eyes.

“I knew from the start that you knew Nora... like that,” he spoke carefully. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t move. You couldn’t move. All you could do was look at the messy-haired Jaebum in front of you, sitting on his knees as he carefully watched you.

“Well, not from the start,” Jaebum continued in your silence. “I didn’t know when I first moved schools, or really, I didn’t know until that Valentine’s Day. My mum-”

Jaebum stopped as he took a shaky breath.

“The first time I saw you was at her funeral.” You met his eyes when he said this. “I went outside because it was suffocating in that hall, with people telling me how good of a person she was, and how much she would be missed. I just couldn’t stay there, so I went out for a smoke, and then I saw you.

“You looked so broken. You couldn’t go inside the building and I just felt bad for you. The way you were crying...” Jaebum trailed off at the memory.

You remembered the day clear as yesterday. You were outside the old building, your mother going in to give her condolences, but you couldn’t bring yourself too. You cried on the steps at the side of the building; you had cried so much you were sure you were going to die. You didn’t know it was possible to feel so much pain and still be alive.

You sat there crying. You sat there missing your best friend.

When your mother showed up, you found an umbrella placed over you. You didn’t realise it had started raining. But there was a big dark green umbrella placed above you on the higher steps protecting you from the rain.

“I couldn’t talk to you then,” Jaebum pulled you back. “I couldn’t comfort you or ask you what was wrong. I didn’t know if I could handle your pain, I knew I couldn’t take your share of the pain when I was feeling... so much. So, I just left you an umbrella and walked away, hoping it was enough.

“I went back to live with my dad once again, but nothing was the same. I would end up coming here every other day because my mum stopped eating and just living. She would cry and mourn, until one day, she- she tried to end it.”

Your heart hurt. Your heart for the boy sitting in front of you for being so strong by himself.

“She was hospitalised, started to lose her memory slowly. On good days she can recognise me, so that’s nice.” Jaebum gave you a weak smile, making your heart shatter. “After a few years, my dad got remarried and started to make his new family. I decided to move in with my mum, but when she worsened, I wasn’t enough to take care of her anymore.

“I couldn’t live in that old house anymore. So I decided to move here. It was a week before school started when I moved here, and then I saw you again by the supermarket. You weren’t crying anymore, but you still looked so sad. And then, we ended up in the same class,” Jaebum snorted at the joke fate, destiny, or his unlucky stars were playing on him.

“You still looked so weak. Every time I saw you I couldn’t help but remember you crying that day. I was jealous of you,” he laughed humourlessly. “I was jealous that you could cry so easily. I was jealous of the way you could still smile and talk to Jin. I was jealous that despite crying like that, you still were nice to me even when I did nothing for you.”

You wanted to interrupt him and tell him that he shouldn’t be jealous of you. That even before this all started Jaebum was already helping you through the pain. He was the only thing that gave you happiness and made you feel something other than numbness and pain. You wanted to tell him that him stacking books that were scattered as you sat there crying on the floor with bruises was more than enough for you.

That somehow, Jaebum had become the thing keeping you going.

But you couldn’t say it. Your voice stuck somewhere under your sinking your soul as you listened to Jaebum show his heart.

“And then that stupid Valentine’s Day came,” Jaebum looked up and stared into your startled eyes. Apology swam in those warm brown eyes as his lips thinned into a frown. “I didn’t mean what I said that day. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

You almost smiled thinking back to the first words Jaebum had said directed towards you.

Tong-tong.

The word that had haunted you ever since you could remember. When Jaebum had said those words, you felt as if your whole entire world had dulled and become grey. All the dreams and hope in your mind burst with that one sharp word.

“I said it without thinking it, but I didn’t say it to hurt you,” Jaebum pleaded. “When you ran out of class I felt like such an asshole. And then you didn’t come to class for the next few days and I felt like the worst person. When Mr. Kim was making the new seating plans, I told him to make me sit next to you so I could learn from you.”

You stared at Jaebum, who smiled slightly at the surprised look on your face.

“That weekend, I was finally clearing out boxes from the old house when I found her diary. She wrote about you. In the beginning, it was her and her other friends, and what they did to you. She wrote about how she couldn’t look at you when your tears mixed with your cries. How she couldn’t stand there watching you beg to be let go, and then give up and look at the ground. She couldn’t look at the same ground as you so she always stared at the sky, hating herself for not being strong enough to help you. For not being strong enough to tell her friends to stop.”

The eyes fell from your eyes carelessly. You chocked back a sob threatening to escape. You knew how she felt. You knew how she felt. You knew how she felt.

And you forgave her. You forgive her because she was your first friend. She was the first to look at you and smile kindly. The first to make you laugh and laugh at your jokes. The first to talk to you about boys, the first who sleepover at your house. The first friend you studied with, cried with and laughed with.

“Her book slowly began filling up more and more with you. She wrote about the times you would jump in and try to stop them when they were hitting her, but end up getting hurt worse than her. She wrote about the countless times you would wake up at the nurse's office with new bruises. She wrote about the promise she made you take with her; to not jump in.”

You sniffled as you furiously wiped the tears at the memory of her. You missed her. You missed her so much.

“When I read the diary I knew I had to make it stop. I knew I had to stop you from getting hurt. I wanted to protect her like you tried to protect her. But I didn't know, but I could help you.”

You dug your nails into your palm as your mind roared inside you. You didn’t protect her; if you did she would’ve been alive.

“I told Jenny to stop, I showed her the diary. But she wouldn’t listen to me, and I couldn’t think of any other way to protect you. I needed to keep you by my side. So I made up the whole fake dating thing as an excuse to keep you around me.”

Jaebum looked at you again. He slowly got up and walked towards you. He knelt in front of you, his warm brown eyes watching you. It felt as if he was almost caressing you with his gaze as if that was all he could dare to do.

He took your cold hands in his warm ones.

He gazed into your eyes and for a moment, you forgot everything once again. You forgot what was happening, where you were or the pain ripping through your heart.

All you knew, all you could do, in that moment, was love Jaebum.

In that moment, all you could do was love Jaebum so much that filled it could fill all of space and time.

“Even if it started with a lie,” Jaebum said with the gentleness of the moonlight. “Even if it started from a hopeless place, what this is right now, is real and it's beautiful. Every moment that I spent with you, every moment that you have smiled at me. Every time I held your hand, every time you would look at me with those eyes. Every minute that I spent with you doing the simplest thing or doing nothing at all. Every second with you, y/n, I have done nothing but fall in love with you so deeply and hopelessly that it terrifies me like nothing ever has.”

“I want to spend every waking moment of my life with you. I want you to meet my mum and dad. I want to wake up in the mornings and see your face. I want to talk to you as I go to sleep.” Jaebum smirked at himself, as he rolled his eyes through the tears that glistened in them. “I can’t believe I am actually being like this, but when it comes to you this is all I can do. All I can do is love you and want to be with you.”

Jaebum searched your face for any sign of acceptance or rejection, but all you could do was look at the beautiful man in front of you.

“I understand if you want to stop,” Jaebum nodded, his voice sincere. “I understand if all this is too much. I know all this started in a dark place, and I get if you have your doubts. But if for a single moment, you have felt the same as me. If you felt this was real, please don’t walk away from this.”

You stared at Jaebum as tears rolled down your cheeks. Jaebum reached up with shaky hands and wiped them away.

“Jae,” your voice scraped against your dry throat. You glanced at your hands as your lips frowned shook a little as you cried.

“You don’t understand,” you rasped meeting his eyes. “If I had jumped in that day, she would be here. I hid.

“While they beat her up- while she was coughing up blood and crying in pain. I hid.”

Jaebum didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“She gained conscious in the hospital for a brief moment,” Jaebum spoke his voice raw. “Nora was able to say goodbye to all of us. She had even asked for you, but none of us knew who you were. She said that she loved you.”

You didn’t hold back the sob that rose out of you this time. Jaebum was instantly next to you, hiding you in his arms as he gently ran his hand over your back.

“The only reason the paramedics were able to bring her around was that they got there on time,” Jaebum whispered, holding you tight. “Someone had called them. You had called them, and that’s the only reason she could say goodbye.

“The doctors said she already had a ribcage shattered,” Jaebum’s voice broke as he spoke. “It had pierced her lungs causing it flood. She wouldn’t have made it. All the head injury did was black her out so she didn’t feel those last painful moments.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t say anything.

All you could do was hold onto Jaebum as you cried your heart out.

“I’m sorry Jaebum. I am so sorry.” You cried. “I am so sorry Nora. I am so sorry. I’m sorry.”

You cried.

You cried for the friend you had lost. You cried for the daughter her parents had lost. You cried for the friend Jenny had lost. You cried for the sister Jaebum had lost.

You cried for the pain they felt. You cried for how much they missed her.

You cried for Jaebum.

You cried for how much Jaebum had gone through.

You cried for everything.

You cried.

And finally, you cried for yourself.

__________________

Your whole entire life you had always believed that you were bullied for a reason. At first, it was because you were weird, then it was because you weren’t pretty. Then it was because you were a little chubby, and lastly, it was because you deserved it.

You believed you deserved all the pain she felt in the moments your friend took her last breathe.

But then, you met Jaebum. He made you laugh, he made you smile. You spent so much time with him that the way he treated you was how you started to believe you should be treated.

He showed that you didn’t deserve the pain. You deserved happiness, kindness and love. You deserved to laugh and love without guilt. You deserved everything in the world that Nora did. You deserved all the happiness that anyone else would accept.

It had been almost two months since that night in Jaebum’s apartment.

You were nervous, your palms sweaty as the plastic-y paper crumbled loudly in your hands. You took a deep breath as you looked at the flowers.

You smiled bittersweetly.

It was the same kind that Nora had seen that day. It was made entirely of filler flowers, and it was beautiful. It was simple, unique and breath-taking; just like her.

“Are you ready?” Jaebum asked as he stood next to you, straightening his button-down shirt.

You quirked an amused eyebrow at him making him roll his eyes, “You’re wearing a dress, y/n.”

“But that’s because it’s my first time meeting her,” you frowned at Jaebum, making him smile in return. You let out a deep breathe before straightening the dark skirt. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Ms. Im, your son is here,” the nurse said as you followed behind Jaebum. You watched as an older lady, in her late forties, rise from her seat.

You halted in your steps as you saw her smile. It was almost as if Nora was standing there with the light beaming in from behind her.

“My baby!” She greeted her son, giving him sloppy kisses on his cheeks. “You look so handsome!”

Jaebum flushed at the compliment, swatting it away, “Aye, eomma, you’re only saying that cause I’m your son.”

“Of course,” the lady laughed, her eyes almost disappearing. “All your good looks are from me.”

The two laughed before Jaebum’s mother noticed you standing there awkwardly.

“You,” her smile dropped a little. “You were a friend of hers.”

You nodded, gulping nervously.

Ms. Im pushed back the sorrow that flashed on her face for a moment before smiling at you brightly.

“I’ve seen you in her photos,” she ushered you closer to her. She wrapped her arms around you as she patted your back, “thank you for being a good friend to my daughter.”

You closed your eyes and hugged her back. Before you could say anything, she pulled back and looked at the bouquet.

“Oh, how pretty! Are these for me?” She cooed, as she took them off you. She smiled at you lovingly before turning to Jaebum who watched you both silently. “Tell me who’s prettier, me or the flowers?”

Jaebum tsked his tongue playfully, “Of course, my mother.”

You laughed along with them, as you settled on the sofa. Jaebum and his mum began talking and you watched them.

“So is she your girlfriend, Jaebum?” Ms. Im turned to you, with a warm smile. “I like her.”

You blushed, your cheeks burning, but before you could answer Jaebum jumped in.

“I’m trying to convince her to date with me,” Jaebum sighed, his eyes peering into yours playfully. “But she won’t accept me.”

Your cheeks flushed more as you looked at his mother.

Ms. Im laughed harder as she patted your knee, “that’s right, dear. Don’t give in easily.”

“Oh,” Jaebum smiled, groaning playfully. “Not you too, mum. Now, she’ll never say yes.”

You looked at Jaebum, his eyes watching you.

Ms. Im began telling you both about the new flowers that she planted in the garden, but you couldn’t concentrate. Jaebum listened to his mother, but his eyes remained on you.

He winked at you after a minute.

You rolled your eyes in return.

The smile on your lips not going away no matter how much you tried to push it away.

______________________

Authors Note:

after more than two years, chubby had finally come to an end. thank you to everyone for reading and loving this story so much. i hope everyone who reads them realises they are worth so much more than how people see them, and learn to forgive themselves. you guys have honestly been so kind and patient with me and my slow as writing lol. thank you for everything, I hope you enjoyed it <3

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