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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 months

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The Life I Didn't Know

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, f!reader Summary: Mickey Garcia thought returning to Top Gun was the most life-changing thing to ever happen to him. And that was before a ghost from his past confronted him on the tarmac. What you tell him next will change both how he views his past and his vision for his future. Word Count: 4591 TW: Lies, Secret Reveals, Hidden Child, Ghosting, Confessions; Unplanned Pregnancy; Reader is a Mom Note: Written for day 12 of @whumpthemusical's event for "Unplanned Pregnancy" from Waitress. Thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for your ask that inspired this fic 🥰 I'm just sorry it's taken almost 10 months to finish (but I guess it fits thematically 😂). And thank you to @topguncortez and @lorecraft for beta reading for me! 💕

Mickey Garcia always expected the greatest honor of his career would be when he was accepted into Top Gun. However, he never imagined he would be chosen to return as one of the best of the best a few years later. Yet he had done it! Selected along with his pilot and close friend, Payback, as one of the few to train for a top-secret mission. It was a dream come true.

He met most of the other aviators the night before at the Hard Deck, and with one possible exception, everyone seemed very nice and supportive. Then, after the debriefing this morning, he was excited—if a little nervous—about the next few weeks of training. He still can’t believe he was selected as a potential member of the mission. He doesn’t have high expectations for being chosen, but he is still going to try his very best.

After running back out to his car to grab some paperwork, he’s heading for the row of hangars so he can meet Payback to prep their plane for their first practice, a wide grin spread across his face. The fact he is about to fly in a training dogfight with Maverick—the Maverick—still feels like a dream to him. It feels like he’s being trained by Han Solo or Captain Kirk! He is a legend that other legends look up to and Mickey had never imagined he would get an opportunity like this. Could this day get any better?

Mickey should have known better than to send something like that into the universe.

As he reaches the tarmac, Mickey suddenly stumbles to a stop and his face drops as he catches sight of the ghost from his past standing in the way, almost as if waiting for him. But it’s impossible. He double-checked the roster ten times just to make sure there was no chance you were going to be here.

And yet here you are. Five—almost six—years older but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Falcon…”

You worry your lip between your teeth just like you used to when you got nervous or were deep in thought, but your eyes shine brightly when your callsign slipped from his lips. “Hey there, Fanboy.”

Oh, God… that voice. Instantly, a thousand memories flash through Mickey’s mind: the first time he laid eyes on you at boot camp with your brilliant smile and Death Star tattoo; flying with you as his pilot, and how he instantly knew he never wanted to fly with anyone else; you dubbing him Fanboy after seeing him nearly burst into tears after running into William Shatner in a coffee shop and him naming you Falcon after the iconic Star Wars ship; all the stolen, secret moments and rendezvous as your friendship blossomed into something deeper despite the risk of Command finding out; the morning he found your letter left on his bunk saying you had transferred and had already left without a warning or a goodbye.

With a Herculean effort, Mickey pulls himself together enough to ask, “Wha…. What are you doing here?”

“I work here. I’ve been an instructor at Top Gun for the past two years.” Your leg is bouncing slightly and you keep clenching and unclenching your hands. “I guess you were in the class the year before I started, but I was so proud when I heard you made it. Of course, I always knew you could.”

Instructors. Mickey groans softly to himself. He had been so focused on what other aviators had been recruited for the mission it never crossed his mind to check who the instructors would be. But it’s too late to do anything about it now.

“So, does that mean you’ll be teaching me?” It’s hard enough seeing you standing before him. But if he has to see you on a daily basis, listen to your lessons, follow your orders…there is no way he’ll make it the next three weeks.

Luckily, you shake your head. “No, it’s all top secret and I don’t have the clearance. I’m not even sure what your mission is. All they’ve told us is that they need the best of the best in the hopes of completing it, so I wasn’t surprised to see your name on the list. I never flew better than with you in my backseat.”

Mickey silently sighs in relief before he jams his hands in his pockets and coldly asks, “If you don’t have anything to do with my mission, what do you want, Falcon? After you disappeared for almost six years, I don’t really have anything I want to say to you. I think it’s better if we keep things the way you wanted it and just pretend the other doesn’t exist.”

He starts to walk around you, but you step in front of him, holding up your hand to block his retreat. “Is that really what you think I did? Left and never gave you another thought? Because you’re wrong. I think about you every single day, Mickey. And I haven’t been able to get into a plane without you in my head. No matter who I’m flying with, your voice is in my headset giving me directions, or doing systems checks, or failing to stump me with random trivia about another movie or tv show just like it used to be.” You take a deep breath as you let your hand drop to your side. “But maybe if I didn’t care, it would make all of this easier. I–”

You are close to tears as your voice trembles with every word, but Mickey is having none of it. “No! Uh uh. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like you’re the one who was hurt here,” he says, jamming his finger accusingly at you. “You’re the one who put in for a transfer without even talking to me about it first, so don’t act like you’re the victim. One day, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, flying with the woman I love at the stick, and the next, I wake up to a note telling me you’d left to fly with another unit. No explanation. No nothing. I never even got to say goodbye! You just disappeared from my life and you took my heart with you. But you never gave a shit.”

“Yes, I did! I swear!” Tears now begin to flow freely down your cheeks. You try to close the distance between you, but when Mickey steps back, you stop. Clutching your arms across your chest, you beg, “Mickey, I loved you. If there had been another way, I would have moved Heaven and Earth to stay with you but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Really?” Mickey scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because they found out about us.”

Needing no further context to understand what you are referring to, a cold dread washes over him. “W-who did?”

“Command. They heard from a few different people that we were ‘fraternizing’ outside of our duties. That we had started sleeping together a few months earlier and that it had evolved into an actual relationship.”

Mickey shakes his head as, in a softer tone, he says, “I never told anyone. I swear.”

Smiling warmly at him, you say, “I never doubted that. And just so you know, I didn’t either. But someone must have found some sort of evidence and turned us in. I tried to find out who, but I never had any luck. All I know is I got called into the discipline office and they said they were starting an investigation into our alleged relationship and if it were true…”

You take a deep breath as your arms tighten around your chest. “I knew if they went looking, they’d find out about us so I did the only thing I could think of to save our careers. I told them it wasn’t true but if they were still concerned, I would voluntarily opt for a different WSO or even transfer to another unit if that would clear things up. And they took me up on my offer.”

Missing pieces of Mickey’s past suddenly start to click into place. While it was against regulation for pilots and their backseaters to “fraternize” with any kind of romantic or sexual relationship, the rule was hardly ever enforced. However, around the time you disappeared, a pilot in another unit almost botched a mission saving his injured WSO instead of carrying out his assignment. When it was discovered they were in a romantic relationship at the time, Command began taking the regulation very seriously. Mickey recalls the two of you even had a nervous conversation about it at one point but just agreed to be more discreet while on base.

However, it still left some gaping holes in your excuse.

“But why did you do it? Some anonymous jerk claims we were dating and that’s it? We could have fought it. If you had told me what was going on, we could have both denied everything and there was no way they could prove it.”

“Yes, they could.” Your voice quivers slightly even as you scoff humorlessly. “There was one piece of undeniable proof that would have had us both discharged if they had discovered it.”

“What?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you whisper, “I was pregnant.”

All the air is sucked from Mickey’s lungs. He feels like he’s doing barrel rolls in his jet as the world spins around him and an immense pressure weighs on his chest. “You… you were… what?”

You nod gently. “I had only found out a few days before and I was trying to figure out how to tell you. But then the investigation was brought up and it changed everything. All they had was the word of someone else we were dating, but if they knew I was pregnant with your baby, well, that’s pretty solid evidence. I didn’t know if you wanted kids. Hell, I didn’t even know if I wanted kids. So, I didn’t say anything and they transferred me two days later.”

“How could you not tell me?” Mickey whispers, trying to wrap his head around this life-changing revelation. “I would have been by your side for every minute. We could have figured it out together, we could have found a way to make it work. But even if we couldn’t, I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you. And if that meant giving up everything else, I would have done it.”

“I know you would have. And that’s why I couldn’t say anything.” You take a few steps towards him. This time, Mickey doesn’t move back, but you still keep a little space between you so you don’t overwhelm him. “I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t let me leave and it would be the end of both our careers. We’d both worked so hard to get where we were, I couldn’t let you throw everything away for a kid I still didn’t know if I even wanted. And by the time I had decided, it was too late to change what I’d done. So, when I reported to Command I was pregnant a few months later, I said it was from a nameless one-night stand I met at a bar right after I transferred.”

Mickey’s head is still reeling from everything you have told him, yet he catches one important detail in what you just said. “Wait. You reported it. Does that mean…did you…do we…?”

“Yeah, Mickey,” you half sob as more tears flow steadily down your face. “We have a son.”

“A son…”

It is the final straw. Stumbling over to the nearby wall, Mickey slides down it until he is sitting on the ground and rests his head on his knees. He has a son. A four- or five-year-old son that he never knew about. Someone who was already walking, and talking, and going to school. Who was his own person with his own personality and likes and dislikes. Who Mickey knows absolutely nothing about.

The two of you had never talked about whether you wanted kids or a family. Until the moment you disappeared, Mickey had never doubted you both loved each other deeply but your relationship had been too complicated by rules and regulations to face what might happen in the future. So, the two of you had lived in the moment and tried to enjoy what time you had together instead of talking about the future. But that didn’t mean Mickey hadn’t thought about it. He had known from a young age he wanted to be a father. He helped take care of his younger siblings growing up and he couldn’t wait to have a family of his own.

So to find out now that he has a child is simultaneously exhilarating and devastating. He could have had everything he had always dreamed of, but you had taken all those early milestones, all those precious irreplaceable moments with his son, and Mickey doesn’t know how to accept that. What if his son never forgives him for not being there? Mickey might not have known he even existed until a few moments ago, but that doesn’t change the fact his son has had to grow up not knowing what it was like to have a father. To have a void in his life where others around him had a loving, supportive presence. Will his son even want him in his life at this point?

He hears you walking over to him and can see your feet stop a few inches from him out of the corner of his eye.

In a voice thick with tears, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…” You can’t find the words to finish that sentence.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Mickey raises his head to glare up at you, all of his swirling emotions finding a much-needed target to explode at. “Even if I accept why you let them transfer you or that you didn’t tell me right then, why didn’t you tell me at any point during the last five years! Is it just because I’m here? If I hadn’t come back to Top Gun, would you ever have told me?”

You open your mouth to respond but then close it again as you try to find the best way to answer. “Those are all fair questions. I figured if I told you while I was still pregnant or right after I gave birth, we would still get in trouble. My superiors weren’t happy that I had just transferred to fly with one of their WSOs and this happened but they had to accept it. I flew for another month or two but then I was placed on desk duty until I got this job at Top Gun. I hated being grounded but at least I was someplace consistent where I could go home to my family every night.”

“‘Your family’? Do you mean you…?” Maybe his son has had a father-figure in his life after all.

You seem confused for a moment but as soon as you realize what he is asking, you quickly clarify, “Oh, no, no, no! Nothing like that. My mom moved in a month before I gave birth and stayed so she could watch the kiddo while I was at work.” You duck your head to stare at the ground as you mutter, “But no, there, uh, there hasn’t been anyone like that since you. I’ve got one little man who has my whole heart, and between him and work, I don’t have the time or the energy to spend on anyone else.”

Mickey hates the way his heart warmed slightly at that. He should hate you right now, not be happy that you aren’t with someone. Quickly changing the topic before he lets himself dwell on that for too long, he says, “You still haven’t answered my question. Why now? Why are you telling me about him now?”

“He asked about you.”

“What?”

“Well, not you specifically but he started asking about his dad. He doesn’t understand….” Your voice breaks as your lip begins to quiver. Mickey’s resolve wavers and he starts to reach for your hand but then he remembers the reason you are upset in the first place and lets his hand fall. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “He’s too young to understand and I’m too selfish to admit it’s my fault you’re not there, so I just told him his dad was a Naval aviator like me and he’s off protecting everyone from danger. I was hoping…I don’t know what I was hoping, but it didn’t satisfy him like I thought it would. Two weeks ago, he told me all he wants for his birthday next month is to meet his dad.”

“He…he wants to meet me?” Mickey asks.

You nod. “And I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea where in the world you were, if you had your own family by now, or if you would even want to meet him once you knew. But then a few days ago I saw you were coming here and…it seemed like fate. I knew telling you would be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t go home and look into our son’s eyes if I didn’t at least try. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

“So this is just a way for you to clear your conscience?” Mickey asks. “You finally tell me I have a son, and that’s supposed to absolve you of everything? You took nearly five years I could have had with him away from me! I missed out on so many firsts!” Mickey suddenly freezes, all the anger evaporating in an instant as a sober realization sets in. “I still don’t even know his name….”

“Miguel. His name’s Miguel.”

Tears spring to Mickey’s eyes as he whispers, “Miguel?”

You smile at the reverence on Mickey’s face. “It was the only name I ever considered.” Pulling out your phone and tapping the screen a few times, you offer it to him. “It turns out it was perfect. He’s the spitting image of his namesake.”

With shaking hands, Mickey takes the phone from you. Looking down, he sees a little boy staring back at him with a wide grin that’s too big for his face, a mess of dark curly hair, and rich brown eyes that make Mickey feel like he is looking into a mirror. You weren’t far off. Miguel looks almost exactly like the baby photos Mickey had seen of himself at that age. However, he can also see traces of you in the toddler’s face; in the shape of his lips and the cut of his jaw. There’s no way to deny it any longer. This was his kid. Yours and his together.

Watching the waves of emotions washing across his face, you murmur, “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you…either of you. I just didn’t know what to do and then, once I made a decision, I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. The longer I put it off, the more impossible it got to tell you. But you did nothing wrong and I just thought he should have another piece of you to carry with him, even if he doesn’t understand it yet.”

Mickey swipes his finger across the phone and the photo changes to one of you balancing Miguel on your hip as you point towards the camera. He looks younger here but the same joy is evident on his face as he clings to you with one arm and to a ratty-looking Spider-Man plush in the other. Another swipe shows Miguel blowing out a candle on a birthday cake shaped like a Stegosaurus. There is a big “4” balloon floating in the background next to a woman Mickey recognizes as your mother. He swipes again to see a picture of you fast asleep in a rocking chair with an infant Migual curled on your chest. He is so tiny that he could only have been a month or two old. You look disheveled and exhausted even in sleep, yet Mickey doesn’t think he can remember a time you were more breathtaking.

He is about to swipe again when something at the top of the picture stops him. Zooming in closer, he inhales sharply.

There is a small framed drawing hanging on the wall just above Miguel’s crib. It’s of two stick people looking at each other with little hearts above their heads. He doubts a single other person would have ever noticed it, but he would recognize it anywhere. He had doodled it on a note he slipped you right after his friendship with you had developed into a romance. And you had kept it all of these years then hung it so it would watch over your son.

Tears that have been threatening to fall finally crest over his eyes as Mickey chokes out, “Can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

He nods before tearing his eyes from the phone to look up at you. “Yeah. More than anything.”

“Okay, then yeah, of course you can,” you say eagerly as your face lights up. But then it dims slightly as you add, “But, um, I think it’s better if we wait just a few days.” Mickey starts to protest but you hold up your hand. “I know I’ve already made you wait far too long for this, but we need to figure out some things first and I’m sure once you’ve had time to process everything, you’ll have a million questions. I just want you to be as prepared for this as possible so you both feel comfortable. It’s a big deal and Miguel is the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet, but he is pretty shy around new people and I don’t want to just spring this on him without talking to him first.”

Mickey can’t help smiling to himself. He was the exact same way when he was little. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I already have a thousand questions and I’m sure by tomorrow, I’ll have a thousand more. How ‘bout we say Friday after training? I could come over or meet you guys somewhere or whatever you think is best.”

You hesitate for a minute. “I have an appointment Friday afternoon and I’m not sure how long it’ll last. Why don’t we do Saturday morning? We could meet for pancakes. That’ll definitely get you on Miguel’s good side.”

“Pancakes it is.” Mickey climbs to his feet and holds out your phone to you. But just as you are about to take it, he pulls it back slightly. “Um…do you think…could you send me some photos of Miguel?”

Smiling softly, you say, “Of course, Mickey. As many as you want. And I have some videos too. Do you still have the same number?”

“You still have it saved?” Mickey asks in surprise.

You duck your head. “I couldn’t delete it. I stared at it countless nights with my finger hovering over the call button, but I always chickened out. However, I knew one day I’d find the strength to tell you everything, and when that happened, I’d need a way to contact you so I kept it. I’m still just so sorry it took me this long.”

Mickey sighs as he stares off across the open tarmac. “Part of me gets it, you know? It was a no-win situation given the circumstances.”

“Yeah…” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself once again. “I felt like I was in my own personal Kobayashi Maru except no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out how to cheat the system.”

Oh God. The ease at which that perfect Star Trek metaphor slips from your lips once again has Mickey flashing back to all the little reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. However, after the secrets you revealed today, he can’t let himself fall back into what was.

“That might be true, but another part of me doesn’t know if I can ever forgive you for stealing these last five years I could have had with my son.” He scrubs his hand over his closely buzzed hair. “Right now, I just don’t know how to feel about you or what you did. However, I do know that I can be pleasant and get along when we’re around Miguel, though I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back to a point where we’re friends again.”

You bob your head, tears dampening your eyes even as a small smile spreads across your face. “That’s fair. That’s more than fair. Honestly, I half expected you never to want to see me again after I told you, so I’ll take pleasant. Thank you, Mickey.”

He nods and holds out your phone. As you take it, your fingers brush against his and Mickey feels a jolt run up his arm as he touches you for the first time in almost six years. And based on the way your eyes widened, you felt it too. The two of you gaze at each other, your hands still both holding the phone between you. Mickey feels his heart start to race slightly in his chest, and he wonders if maybe he’s wrong and forgiving you won’t be as difficult as he thinks it is.

But then you pull the phone from his hand and slip it into your pocket. Taking a few steps back, you mutter, “I’ll send you those pictures. And please do text me any questions you have this week. Otherwise, I’ll call you Friday to figure out the details for breakfast Saturday.”

And with that, you pivot and hurry across the tarmac before disappearing into one of the hangars.

For several minutes, Mickey continues to stare at where you had been standing, still half wondering if anything that just happened was real or not. He always knew returning to Top Gun would be life-changing, but he had never expected this in a million years.

Still in a daze, he stumbles off towards the hangar where his plane is housed. As he approaches, he sees Payback already dressed in his flight suit and busy checking out the plane. He looks up when he hears Mickey approaching.

“Hey, there you are. I thought you were just gonna be a minute.” As he gets closer, Payback does a double-take when he notices Mickey’s face. “Oh, man, are you okay?”

Mickey is still wondering that himself, but he says, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

As Mickey walks past him to put his stuff in his locker and pull out his flight suit, Payback follows him, concern etched across his face. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, you are. You look like you’re about to pass out and I can tell you’ve been crying.”

“Yeah, guess I have.” Just then, Mickey’s phone vibrates and he pulls it out to see you have sent him a link to a folder filled with hundreds of pictures and videos of Miguel. Just a brief scan of them makes tears begin to well up in his eyes once more. But when he looks back up at Payback, the smile on his face is so wide it hurts. “But it’s all good. In fact… It’s never been better.”

I have a few ideas for other parts if anyone is interested (but no promises at this point)

Taglist: @green-socks, @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @blue-aconite, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @roosterforme, @clancycucumber230, @mamachasesmayhem, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000, @aczhang777

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 months

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The Life I Didn't Know

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, f!reader Summary: Mickey Garcia thought returning to Top Gun was the most life-changing thing to ever happen to him. And that was before a ghost from his past confronted him on the tarmac. What you tell him next will change both how he views his past and his vision for his future. Word Count: 4591 TW: Lies, Secret Reveals, Hidden Child, Ghosting, Confessions Note: Thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for your ask that inspired this fic 🥰 I'm just sorry it's taken almost 10 months to finish (but I guess it fits thematically 😂). And thank you to @topguncortez and @lorecraft for beta reading for me! 💕

Mickey should have known better than to send something like that into the universe.

And yet here you are. Five—almost six—years older but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Falcon…”

With a Herculean effort, Mickey pulls himself together enough to ask, “Wha…. What are you doing here?”

“Really?” Mickey scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because they found out about us.”

Needing no further context to understand what you are referring to, a cold dread washes over him. “W-who did?”

Mickey shakes his head as, in a softer tone, he says, “I never told anyone. I swear.”

However, it still left some gaping holes in your excuse.

“Yes, they could.” Your voice quivers slightly even as you scoff humorlessly. “There was one piece of undeniable proof that would have had us both discharged if they had discovered it.”

“What?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you whisper, “I was pregnant.”

Mickey’s head is still reeling from everything you have told him, yet he catches one important detail in what you just said. “Wait. You reported it. Does that mean…did you…do we…?”

“Yeah, Mickey,” you half sob as more tears flow steadily down your face. “We have a son.”

“A son…”

He hears you walking over to him and can see your feet stop a few inches from him out of the corner of his eye.

In a voice thick with tears, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…” You can’t find the words to finish that sentence.

“‘Your family’? Do you mean you…?” Maybe his son has had a father-figure in his life after all.

“He asked about you.”

“What?”

“He…he wants to meet me?” Mickey asks.

“Miguel. His name’s Miguel.”

Tears spring to Mickey’s eyes as he whispers, “Miguel?”

He is about to swipe again when something at the top of the picture stops him. Zooming in closer, he inhales sharply.

Tears that have been threatening to fall finally crest over his eyes as Mickey chokes out, “Can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

He nods before tearing his eyes from the phone to look up at you. “Yeah. More than anything.”

Smiling softly, you say, “Of course, Mickey. As many as you want. And I have some videos too. Do you still have the same number?”

“You still have it saved?” Mickey asks in surprise.

Mickey sighs as he stares off across the open tarmac. “Part of me gets it, you know? It was a no-win situation given the circumstances.”

And with that, you pivot and hurry across the tarmac before disappearing into one of the hangars.

“Hey, there you are. I thought you were just gonna be a minute.” As he gets closer, Payback does a double-take when he notices Mickey’s face. “Oh, man, are you okay?”

Mickey is still wondering that himself, but he says, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

As Mickey walks past him to put his stuff in his locker and pull out his flight suit, Payback follows him, concern etched across his face. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, you are. You look like you’re about to pass out and I can tell you’ve been crying.”

I have a few ideas for other parts if anyone is interested (but no promises at this point)

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter, @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233, @memeorydotcom

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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nyxwordsmithwrites · 5 months

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Chemically Imbalanced Chapter 40

Trigger warnings: violence, unplanned pregnancy, immigration problems, abuse, spousal abuse,

Jose couldn't believe that his son was sitting in front of him. Years had passed since he last saw him and he'd all but lost hope for a reunion. But here they were. Roman, his son, had become an adult in the time that passed. The reunion was bittersweet to Jose as it reminded him of just how much of his son's life he missed. Remus and Roman chatted as though no time had passed which only made the guilt he felt sting more.

Virgil shifted in his seat and moved a cup of tea towards Jose, "You look like you might need it just as much as me." He offered, trying to lighten the mood when he'd noticed that Jose held his tension in the same places as Roman.

The older gentleman sighed and rolled his shoulders attempting to release some of the tension, "I--thanks." He replied, taking the hot ceramic cup and letting the heat ground him. The next time he looked up he saw Roman looking at him, "Roman." He offered quietly, "I don't even know where to start or how to explain." He said quietly, looking back down at his tea not daring to look at Roman for fear of seeing resentment or hate.

"Just like in the Sound of Music, the beginning is a very good place to start. " Roman offered with a smile, watching his dad and taking him in. Even though it had been years there was something so familiar about him, that familiarity brought safety.

Jose let out a wet chuckle, "Alright then. The beginning it is."

There was no denying that it had been love at first sight. Jose had been studying abroad for a semester when he met Natalie. The whirlwind romance was one for the ages. They quickly went from strangers to never seeing one without the other.

Their friends had said something about how they were too dependent on each other however both of them brushed it off. Those comments only made the two of them seek each other out even more.

When the semester came to an end Jose tried to convince Natalie to come back home with him but was met with resistance.

"I don't want to move. What if it upsets the baby?" Natalie worried, resting her hand over her nonexistent bump.

Jose nearly fainted right there as he took in his beautiful Natalie, she stood near the window with the setting sun behind her casting a bright halo around her making her look angelic, "You're pregnant?" He asked, leaning heavily against the bench for support.

Natalie turned towards her boyfriend with a bright smile and nodded, "I am."

With those two words, Jose's fate was sealed. He would do anything to be there for his child. Natalie had never looked as beautiful as she did at that moment. He quickly moved towards her and spun her in circles, quietly whispering near her ear in his native language about how happy he was and how he couldn't wait to be a father.

_____________________

Jose did his best to provide for them but unfortunately, immigration policies that had been put in place did not work in his favor. Eventually, Natalie stated that the visa process and the money were a waste of time when they could just get married. With their marriage came the ability to earn more money with better-paying jobs due to his visa.

But the marriage had been more out of necessity or obligation than love. For years Jose had tried to get a visa through the legal channels and had poured so much money into the process. He had his second thoughts about the marriage especially when they were really struggling and he'd picked up any overtime that was offered. The reason for the overtime was two-fold. One was because they needed the money as Natalie insisted on being a stay-at-home mom. Two he dreaded going home every night. If he didn't work overtime Natalie yelled that he was good for nothing and tried to starve their son to death. On the other hand, if he worked overtime Natalie became suspicious and accused him of cheating on her. Of course, neither of these were true but after hearing them so often it felt like maybe she was right.

With a better-paying job and more manageable hours, Jose finally felt like he was able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. All that changed after Remus was born.

____________________

There was something different about Natalie after Remus. She looked at the child like she feared he might spontaneously combust or perhaps she was wishing he would. She had never looked at Roman that way. Jose thought maybe he was just seeing things since her behavior towards Roman hadn't changed.

After a long shift, Jose came home and found Natalie barricading herself in the kitchen with a knife pointed at Remus. She was shrieking and crying as she watched her son. It was impossible to understand what she was saying and honestly, Jose wasn't sure he wanted to know.

His eyes went to Remus who was sitting up and looking at his mom, reaching his hands out for her but by the look in Natalie's eyes she didn't even recognize the child as her. The first thing he noticed about Remus was the blood around him that was coming from his hand.

Jose picked up Remus and took him and Roman to the bathroom so he could patch up his son. He would likely never know how Remus got injured as that day Remus stopped talking to anyone but Roman.

This was the first time Jose considered that maybe Natalie needed help. He did his best to keep Remus away from her and ensure that he had everything he needed. Jose also tried to urge Natalie to seek professional help but if anything that only made things worse. Even when he suggested Roman and Remus go to therapy he was met with resistance by Natalie.

When Jose had brought up seeking help Natalie had screamed and cried for hours about how she was trying her best and maybe if he did more this wouldn't be happening

Without Natalie's knowledge, he did manage to take both of his sons to therapy. Jose couldn't care less what Natalie's reaction would be if she ever found out. This was in the best interest of his children.

At this point, Jose was half convinced that this was normal behavior. There were times after the fact that Jose went over all of the days leading up to the end that he tried to pinpoint if he'd missed a sign but everything seemed normal.

One day he came home from work with Remus on his hip to find the house trashed. There was a letter amongst the wreck from Natalie that said she was taking Roman and leaving. That Jose was no longer the man she married and she couldn't take it anymore. Upon reading that letter Jose knew he should've felt sad or ashamed but he couldn't help but feel relief. That Remus was safe, he was safe. The only thing he was worried about was Roman. How he'd ever find his son or ensure that he was okay. There was no telling what Natalie would be capable of. Thankfully, she hadn't shown any aggression towards Roman but Jose knew that it wasn't safe for Natalie to have him.

After Natalie left Jose never stopped looking for Roman. However, there were very few people who wanted to assist an immigrant in finding his child. He'd told his story many times and found that most people just stared at him and came to the conclusion that his wife was abused and running for a reason. During his search child protective services had been called on him multiple times as anyone who listened to his story assumed that Remus was also in danger. Thankfully these assumptions were unfounded and he was able to take care of Remus on his own.

_______________________

Years had passed and Jose had stopped telling people his story. This didn't mean he'd stopped looking for Roman but he mostly used the internet or prayed that somehow they would make it back to each other.

The day has been like any other day when he received a text from an unknown number claiming to be Roman. Jose was hesitant to believe it at first as it seemed so impossible but upon further investigation he realized it was actually Roman.

It took everything in him to be patient to schedule a meet up. This was his son they were talking about. A son he never thought he would be allowed to see again. With the reconnection came the hard part of trying to explain to his grown son what had happened. But it felt like all he had were excuses. That he hadn't tried hard enough or been a good enough father.

______________

Once he'd said his part Jose hazard a glance at Roman and saw that his son had tears streaming down his face, "I'm so sorry." He pleaded, needing his son to understand.

Roman shook his head, "Dad no." He whispered, wiping at his face and feeling Virgil's hand on his thigh rubbing small circles, "you did so much for both of us." He added, "She--she always told me you left."

"I promise you I didn't. I have spent all of my free time looking for you." Jose assured, setting his hand on the table near Roman and instantly relaxing when he grasped his hand.

The teen choked on a sob, "I believe you." He whispered, squeezing his hand.

Those three words broke all of Jose's resolve. Roman believed him. His son didn't blame him. He didn't hate him. Jose swallowed hard, "Roman. Can I have another hug?" He asked gently, trying to let his son set the pace.

Roman immediately got up and wrapped his arms around his father, not even allowing him to get out of his seat, "please stay."

Jose whimpered and leaned into Roman any attempt at trying to pull himself together shattered by his son's request to have him stay.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #fight tw #abuse tw #flashback tw #unplanned pregnancy tw #chemically imbalanced

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owlespresso · 9 months

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phalanx formation. ch4 of poliocetics. read from the start here. ch2. ch3. also on ao3.

tags: manipulation, potential unwanted pregnancy, sylvain being weird about said unwanted pregnancy, noncon mention, just a lot of trigger potential be mindful of yourselves

It’s 1 AM, and Sylvain is wide awake. There’s something soothing about being swallowed by the shadows of night, a stillness to the time that ensures he can work without interruption, whether it be in his office or out in the clubs.

He’s no fan of paperwork, but he can chew through it with ease, crunch out the numbers and zeroes and margins within a few hours and have the rest of the late, late evening to himself.

It’s 1 AM when his phone rings. He snaps up the device with nearly shaking hands at the sight of your caller ID, a loving trail of heart emojis surrounding your name.

“Hey, everything alright—” he starts, because why on earth are you calling him at this hour? Has something changed or gone wrong? Have you come to your senses and decided to ream him out? He anticipates the worst, but it doesn’t come. There’s a sniffle on your end of the line, a shaky little breath.

“Sylvain,” your voice is a warbling tremble, an old door creaking open, reedy and thin.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” His voice dips into a concerned coo, his heart crumpling at the sheer heartbreak in your voice. You breathe quickly and loudly.

“I’m sorry, I just—” you took a hiccuping gasp in, air rattling around your fighting lungs as you struggled to chew through your words.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” he starts slowly. A pause, and then— “You want me to come over there?”

“Sylvain,” you utter his name a second time, little voice barely holding through. “What if I’m pregnant?”

Oh. Sylvain swallows. You finally realized. It’s a bit belated, in his opinion. Bringing the subject up at dinner was sorely tempting, but you had looked so gaunt and hungry. He didn’t want to jeopardize your ability to feed yourself by introducing a topic so anxiety-inducing. Regardless, you’ve found your way to it, now. Or perhaps it has found you, suddenly and in the dead of night.

“Well,” he begins, slowly and carefully, “We’ll take care of it. And we’ll support you, no matter what you decide to do.”

Dead silence. Your little breaths on the phone are all that lets him know you’re still there. It’s not enough.

“Do you want me to come over?” he tries again.

“Y-Yeah, could you? I don’t think I can go back to sleep.”

He’s out the door within five minutes. On the road in six. The drive from the estate to your apartment is longer than he would like it to be, but the streets are relatively uncrowded and untouched by the nightlife buzz that exists in other parts of the city. The idea of wrangling Dimitri or Felix along for the ride is tempting, but Sylvain doesn’t think you’re equipped to handle any other surprises. Nor is Dimitri, who may be as frantic about the possibility of an upcoming heir as you currently are.

By far the most frustrating part of the journey is the lack of dependable parking spaces. He’s already wasted enough time on the road, so he settles for a parking garage a block away and books it.

“Hey,” he greets as you crack open the door, and then open it for him. He takes a step inside, arms already open to sweep you into an embrace. You respond in kind, arms curling around his back, fingers raking into the fine wool of his sweater. A minute passes just like this. He rocks you back and forth on your feet, stood in your doorway, almost unable to believe just how trusting you remain in the face of all he has done to you.

It’s good it was them, then, to find you. To scoop you up. At the very least, they can see your every need met, and that’s more than he can say for most of the other men that crawl around your local neighborhood.

“Hi,” you say, watery. “Come in.”

“So, do you wanna talk about it now?”

“Sylvain, I don’t even know what I’m going to do if I am. Pregnant.” you chew the word out like it’s a bitter vegetable.

“And that’s fine! That’s natural, for something like this. It’s new and scary and you weren’t necessarily planning on it,” Sylvain says, reaching over to curl a hand around your wrist, pulling your hands away from your face. “We’re going to take care of you, I promise.”

“If you want the kid, we’ll give him a nice, loving home and everything he could ever need. Or want. Dimitri won’t accept anything less.” Sylvain explains, kindling some warmth into his voice. Because it does sound idyllic. A child that looks like you and one of them. The knowledge that they’ll be safe and cared for and loved. He’s not too sure about Felix, but Dimitri would be a more than adequate father. And he, as the eldest of his friend group and well privy to the mistakes of his father, would be careful not to repeat them.

There’s the idea of PTA meetings, first soccer games, all the things he’s seen in movies and on TV, potentially right in front of him. He’s not stupid enough to believe that’s all there would be to parenting. It’s a tough job, laden with strife and difficulties. But the three of them have the money to ensure most of those difficulties never even reach your ears, or the ears of your potential child.

“And if…if I don’t want it?” you ask, voice a quiet tremble in the space between you. Hardly loud enough to hear.

“Well,” Sylvain hesitates for a moment. Brief, but long enough for you to take note, long enough to give you pause. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, alright? For now, just focus on relaxing. Can you do that for me? Here—let me make you something to drink. Tea sound good?” He knows where you keep the bags and knows your favorite kind. He also knows that you stock Dimitri’s and Felix’s favorites. Not his, because he’s always been more of a coffee guy.

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to. Didn’t we just go over this?” he gives you a pointed look. You look away, and he takes that as acquiescence.

Doing something as simple as making a warm beverage for you feels domestic. He likes it. He likes taking care of you—if only you could bring yourself to realize that.

What he doesn’t like is the silence that looms over the apartment like a dreary fog, with the exception of the sounds he makes bustling around your kitchen. You’re usually so eager to make small talk, to ask how his day has been, to ask about all of the new and interesting things that are happening in his life. Though, he supposes he couldn’t tell the truth should you ask the latter question, for you are thoroughly and unmistakably the most interesting thing happening in his life.

Still, he prepares your tea just the way you like it, having memorized your order over the months spent together. Or has it been years?

Your eyes are shut, head leaned against the back of your discount couch as he returns—but they open at the sound of his footsteps against the wood. He gently urges the mug into your hands, before settling in next to you.

“This doesn’t change anything, alright?” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. Hip to hip and head to chest. You nestle into his side like you’re taking shelter, curled up like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. It’s likely because you’re too exhausted to do anything else, but he still marvels at how trusting you are. He likes you like this, he thinks. Soft and sleepy, warm and willing.

You don’t answer him. The frantic adrenaline of your panic attack has all but faded, exhaustion sweeping over you in its wake.

“We should go get tests tomorrow,” you murmur into the woven fabric of his sweater. He can feel your lips moving, your nose prodding into his side. It’s too early. Nothing will show up if you take a test now, but he doesn’t tell you that. It can wait until tomorrow morning, after you’re fed and well-rested and perhaps more equipped to comprehend that you’ll have to wait in suspense for ten or so days. You’ll be thinking about it everyday, nonstop. He already knows that he’ll likely have to soothe you down from another episode. Should he just ask you to stay at his place? It’d sure save him the time of having to haul ass down here whenever you need him.

Later. He’ll think it all over later.

He keeps what remains of your attention span with small talk and sweet nothings. He manages to convince you to take a few sips of tea before you fall into sleep by the sound of his voice, easy as slipping into a warm bath.

#poliocetics tag #fe3h/reader #sylvain jose gautier/reader #sylvain/reader #oz write #noncon tw #pregnancy tw #unplanned pregnancy tw #manipulation tw

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detectivexsergeantxwilliams · 1 year

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“I don’t really do well with babies…”

It wasn't shocking exactly. If statistics came into play, with both him and Steve in the equation, it was just more room for there to have been a mistake in their precaution to happen. There would be plenty to figure out. Questions that appeared tough on the surface, but were simple beneath once everything calmed down.

Right now, Lydia was his main concern, so he pulled her into his embrace. "You have choices, Lydia. Neither Steve nor I will ever take them from you..." He had to give her that option. She was younger than them, and he already had a kid. One that fulfilled a lot of those parental desires in Steve. But he knew this was...different. For all of them.

"Steve was hopeless with kids when I first met him. But now, well, he's basically house broken. And when it comes to kids, he's a big marshmallow full of testosterone. Me? Being a dad's one of the best things that's ever happened to me. There's three of us...an extra pair of hands. If we gave it a go...I think we'd all do more than well."

#V: Danny/Lydia/Steve #pregnancy tw #unplanned pregnancy tw

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awkward-tension-art · 2 months

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Little Parasite

Leon S. Kennedy x AFAB!reader (I tried to make pronouns gender neutral but I might have missed a few)

Warnings: Pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, Leon needs a hug, mentions of plaga infection, mentions of sex, swearing, hating on the government, takes place after RE4 remake.

Pregnant.

Oh fuck you were pregnant.

You stared at the positive stick in your hands.

Positive. Positive.

This was impossible. You were on birth control! You and Leon were always safe when-

Spain.

When you were kidnapped, you hadn’t been able to take your pill. You went several days without taking it. That wouldn’t have been much of a problem if the parasites you had been infected with didn’t cause multiple episodes of an intense need to breed.

How many times had you and Leon fucked during your rescue? How many times did he cum inside of you during the plaga induced delirium?

Not to mention when you joined the mile high club on the plane ride back to the states.

If the fetus inside of you was conceived when you both were infected…

What was inside of you?

You put a hand to your stomach. It's been 3 months since you got back.3 months of nightmares, white house funded therapy and multiple visits to a government science lab. When you missed your period you didn’t think much of it. You went through a lot of stress. Plus, the moment you got back you resumed your birth control pills on schedule.

No. You were panicking for no reason. Pregnancy tests come back with false positives all the time.

Deep breath. It was probably a false positive.

Still, you ended up making a phone call to your OBGYN. The receptionist sounded somewhat concerned, your last appointment was only 6 months ago. You couldn’t come up with a proper answer as to why you desperately needed the doctor as soon as possible.

Once the call was over you put the phone down and breathed.

Leon was asleep in your shared bedroom. He had come back from a mission last night, and needed the rest.

You didn’t need to tell him, right? After all this was nothing. There wasn’t any need to wake him up and scare or worry him. After all, you haven’t had any morning sickness. No other symptoms were showing up.

It was nothing! Just a false positive.

Two days later, you were on your back with ultrasound gel on your stomach. Your eyes were trained on the screen.

That was not a false positive.

“Judging by the size, I'd say you're about 11 weeks.” your OBGYN confirmed, pointing on the screen, “Here's the head…”

The baby was conceived in Spain.

Her words were fading off into nothing. Your wide eyes were on the black and white screen. That little blob was an embryo. That would grow into a fetus. From there, a baby.

Baby.

“Oh my god.” You breathed, mind unable to cope, “Oh my god…”

How did this not come up on any of those tests the lab ran!?

A sudden thought came into your head. With horror, you realized that the lab most likely knew and deliberately didn’t tell you.

You were under no delusion you could trust the government. Your dad was the fucking president. You knew how cut throat and ruthless everything involved with the country's leadership was. After your kidnap, you were finally informed of the science that was being hidden from the public to avoid a panic.

Most likely you were being watched by undercover agents. You’ve been at this OBGYN for years, and you never saw that receptionist with the red hair. Chances are, both your father and the science lab knew about this appointment the moment you made it.

Your panicked eyes went to your doctor. What would she tell them? Would HIPAA come into play here? How good was the hippocratic oath when the national leader demanded answers?

Who could you trust?

“Is it-...” Your throat felt tight.

Was it normal? Any signs of developmental problems? Did it have a tail and claws? Was it actually a parasite?

“So far at 11 weeks I am seeing normal development.” She talked as if reading your mind, “It’s still too early to know the sex, but I’m seeing normal limbs and head growth. No signs of down syndrome or other chromosomal issues.”

“Blood test?” Your words sounded small, “I mean…Can I get a blood test to confirm? Just to check for anything?” Did a blood test for ancient Spanish parasites even exist? You scrambled for a reason, “Um…I had traveled to rural Spain 11 weeks ago…I drank some of the water there.”

It was a vague but good enough reason for your doctor.

You got your blood taken, the ultrasound photo was printed and you were sent on your way. Your eyes met the new receptionist when you made another appointment for next week.

Agent.

Your father knew.

If your dad knew that you were pregnant, then the government lab did as well.

As you drove, your head was filled with dangerous thoughts. What would they do to the fetus? What would they do to you ? Would they force you to terminate and use the cells for experiments? Would they make you carry to term and take the baby from you?

Unconsciously, one of your hands rested on your stomach. Right now, your brain went into overdrive. You’d fight tooth and nail to keep this life safe inside of you.

Maternal instinct.

Honestly, you thought it was a myth. It probably was, but then you couldn’t explain the sudden need to protect this baby in your belly.

…Baby

There was a baby growing inside of you. A life created between you and the man you loved. A child that you and Leon made together. An act of love and intimacy had formed a whole new existence.

You swallowed thickly.

This…this was hardly the time to have a kid. You had your job and career. Plus, Leon was gone on missions a lot. Dangerous missions that could end up with him dead. Your child might grow up without a father…nothing but a folded flag and a photo to tell them that their dad perished protecting the country.

“Stop it.” you forced yourself to speak, “Just stop it.” Your mind was spiraling. Forcing you to tackle some things you didn’t want to accept yet. No, you had to focus. You were driving, and frankly, panicking behind the wheel of a moving vehicle is a great way to get yourself killed.

You noticed a black car had been tailing you for the last several miles. Secret service. One of your dads agents.

Or kidnappers .

Honestly, with your life now, any of those three were options.

Well, at least you had a concealed carry this time.

You pulled into your driveway, hand resting on the pistol hidden at your hip as you opened the door to step out. The car drove past, most likely going to turn around and set up surveillance somewhere nearby.

Jesus, can’t you have a normal life?

You unlocked the door to your condo, stepping in to see Leon pacing. He was agitated, running his hands through his blonde hair. He perked up, looking at you as soon as you closed and locked the door.

“Leon?” You put your keys down, approaching him, “Is everything-?”

“Where…were you?” He swallowed. You could see his hands shaking ever so slightly.

“I..went to see my OB.” you answered him, holding his face in your hands, “What's going on?”

“The lab…they called…” your fiance put his hands over yours, “You need to go in for further testing. I don’t know why, they said they found something.”

Oh fuck you government!

You sighed, “Great…” You pulled away, “There's something I need to show you.” Your steps went to your bag that you put down by the door.

“Is everything ok?” He asked, following you.

“I..I think so.” You spoke truthfully, pulling out the ultrasound photos. Your own anxiety was spiking now. You knew Leon wanted a family of his own. You two have talked about it. But were you ready to be parents?

You held up the photos.

Leon’s eyes widened. He raised his hands slowly, as if afraid of breaking or ripping them. He rubbed his thumb over the surface. You watched his gaze roam over the pictures, as if committing every detail to memory.

Your fiance stepped back and leaned against the wall. His eyes remained on the photos, not looking up at anything else around him.

The result of your love. Half of you and half of him had created that little blob inside of you. That blob would grow into a baby. A child.

“Really?” The agent sounded quiet, voice almost a whisper.

You nodded, “Yea…really…And i know it's-”

He cut you off by immediately wrapping his strong arms around you. You could feel the tears when he buried his face into your shoulder.

“I love you,” Leon breathed, pulled back to pepper your face with kisses, “Oh my god, I love you. I love you.” One hand cupped your cheek, and the other was on your stomach with an open palm.

You giggled, “Happy?”

“Happy? Happy doesn’t even cover it.” His voice was light and joyful. His fingers brushed over your middle, “I'm ecstatic. Excited. I…God, I love you.” Your fiance knelt burying his face into your stomach to start placing pecks all over and whisper loving words. You weren’t even showing yet and he was already beginning to coo and mumble baby talk.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

#reader insert #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #re 4 leon #tw: pregnancy #tw: unplanned pregnancy #my writing

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eclairfair98 · 2 months

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The swing doesn’t creak under his weight. It’s different from the little tyre Dad had strung up for him in the backyard when he was a kid. But in the ways that matter, it’s exactly the same.

Securing his grip on the chains, Pete takes a few steps back. And then, he lets go. Swings ahead, kicking the air. The white of his shoelaces almost glowing in the dark.

The height of the swing increases with every pump of his legs, a glorious breeze blowing against his damp brow. The rise in his body’s centre of mass making itself know in bubbly feeling floating in his belly.

It’s almost like one little swing is enough to turn-off something as big as gravity.

And maybe, gravity only exists as a manifestation of the loneliness of all the molecules and atoms and protons and neutrons and electrons that make up the Earth.

Of the loneliness experienced by all the living breathing people with burdens and disappointments and broken dreams that inhabit the planet.

“Pete… slow down. Please.”

The voice reaches out to him, but he can’t really hear it. Smooth syllables rounded out by the faint buzzing in his ears. ‘Cause somewhere in Pete’s head, all the sound has gone out.

And what is life? What does it even mean to be alive?

He closes his eyes against the cool wind buffeting his face, raises his legs as he reaches the topmost part of the arc of his swing. Takes in a breath that makes a gasping sound at the back of his throat.

Is it this?

The act of breathing in and breathing out.

Is inspiring oxygen and expiring carbon dioxide, pumping enough blood from his heart to his arteries and eventually, all of his visceral organs, enough to classify Pete as alive?

Maybe, it is.

If so, maybe he’s only as alive as an insentient tree, or a patch of symbiotic lichen growing on the bark of a tree. Or a non-flagellated bacteria that cannot move freely through its own immediate environment and lives out its brief, insignificant existence stuck in the same ultra-microscopic space that Nature deemed it appropriate to cage him in.

After all, what is he?

A universe of atoms. An atom in the universe.

There’s fresh wetness burning behind his eyelids, clumping his lashes, and Pete makes a valiant attempt to fight the stupid, overwhelming, all-encompassing need to cry, till he ends up crying a little, anyway. Staring up at a flock of stars scattered across the night sky. At the light that’s been traveling for hundreds and thousands of years to reach his tired eyes.

“Push me higher, Daddy, I want to fly!” he would implore. And his father’d always obliged. Instructing him to hold on tight, as the sky rushed up to welcome him with open arms.

The metal chains of the swing dig into his palms, but Pete doesn’t notice the discomfort, tightly closing his hands around the only thing tethering him to the ground.

Pumping his legs for the last time, Pete wonders whether he and his father are looking up at the same night sky, whether Dad sees the frozen lights twinkling against a backdrop of crushed, black velvet, and thinks about just how small he is in the grand scheme of things.

And in that sublime moment that seems to stretch on infinitely, Pete is flying.

After a while, he does slow down, spots Tom who’s now standing next to his swing, off to the side. His shoes skid against the sand as he comes to an abrupt stop. Little spots dancing in front of his eyes. Growing bigger and bigger. Taking on shapes and colors: starry-blues, fuchsia-pinks, firetruck-reds. Till his vision starts crumpling ‘round the edges.

Till strong hands grip his waist and his arm, deftly lower him into the swing, hold him securely till the colors fade away. Bleed into the night.

“I’ve got you,” Tom murmurs, warm hand moving up to cradle Pete’s tear-stained cheek. To caress his quivering chin with a calloused thumb.

This way they’re at eye level, and Pete can see his face clearly. Can smell his scent. Like a rain shower in the summertime after the grass has been cut.

“I really don’t know what this is, but I feel so scared, Tom… I feel so alone...”

Moonlight glances off Tom’s wedding ring, and Pete brushes his pinky against the cool metal. A minuscule movement that stills Tom’s hand. Turns it boneless in Pete’s grip.

“But you’re not alone, Pete. You don’t have to be scared, ‘cause I’m going to take care of you. You have me. You’ll always have me,” Tom whispers. And it feels as though he’s reciting a prayer, breathed into existence against the unsteady beat of Pete’s heart.

He runs his thumb along Tom’s knuckles, over the warmth seeping through his sun-kissed skin. Over the faint scars sloping over the smooth ridge.

Remembers how Tom got those scars. The bubblegum pink balloons that littered the varnished gym floor at prom. The fraying ends of the ribbon tying the corsage to his wrist. It’s rose petals picked away by his anxious fingers. The short-lived relief of getting away from the heat and the people and the noise. From all of the eyes on him, and all of the whispers. Of Annapolis admissions and impending engagements and the possibility of getting bonded before marriage. Of the fact that the Academy forbade Midshipmen from getting married. But didn’t stop them from bonding their omegas.

He remembers the sharp smell of unfamiliar alpha stinging his nose. The cold burn of calloused fingers on his neck. The yelp of distress punching it’s way out of his chest. The white-hot shock that flooded his insides when a senior he hardly recognized leaned in to deliberately scent him and remark: Kazansky’s got himself a sweet one, all right. But you don’t seem to like him very much, do you? Say, if you’re looking for someone better—

Remembers only being able to string together three weak words, nascent tears choking his voice: Let me go.

Remembers the blur of motion at the edges of his vision. Strangled sounds of a brief scuffle. Raw knuckles clenched into tight fists. A spot of blood staining the pressed-clean collar of Tom’s dress shirt. Quicksilver glinting in his steady blue eyes.

Unapologetic even in the face of detention and the threat of suspension.

The same eyes that are looking at him now: open and vulnerable and all the more steadier for it.

“Please, let me be there for you. Let me be good to you. Let me take care of you. Let me…”

Tom shuffles closer, touches the hem of his tee-shirt with shaky fingers. Smooths it down where it had ridden up, exposing a sliver of his pale abdomen.

“Okay,” he whispers.

Because Tom isn’t a liar. He would never lie. Not to Pete. Not to anyone.

Because Tom would never not be good to him.

Because Tom’s hands never shake, but they’re shaking now. As Pete cradles them in his own, brings them down to his still flat belly. Feels the press of them against his covered skin. The space between his breaths shortening, till he lets a little breath go.

Till he closes the distance between them, his mouth hot on Tom’s, the whole of him held between Tom’s shaky palms.

Because Tom feels like home.

Tom’s eyes widen, his next inhale coming in a little shorter, a little sharper. And Tom tugs him a little closer, curls his calloused fingers round the slope of his jaw, kisses Pete deeper. Something desperate in the hard press of his lips on Pete’s. Something heartbreakingly tender about it.

And Pete doesn’t know what to do with it. With the way his chest’s heaving like it’s being crushed under the weight of his ribs. With the way his lungs are bursting, ballooning up and taking his breath away.

And it feels so simple. So easy. Even though it really isn’t. The honesty of it. Of wanting to hold. Of wanting to be held. Of wanting to love and be loved.

But he leans into it. Fingers weaving softly in Tom’s thick hair, thumbs tracing the curve of his cheekbones.

Because, Tom is home.

#the unbearable lightness of being #omegaverse #icemav #tw: unplanned pregnancy / misogyny (in the context of omega verse) / mentions of assault (in the past)

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roxineedstosleep · 2 years

Text

Bruce knows he shouldn't. Which, to him, was inappropriate… But what else could he do?

You could leave it at any time. Anything could happen within your life that could cause you to leave him and find a way away from him. How could he make sure that wasn't the case?

Well… a baby.

He knew it was dirty, manipulative play, and that babies weren't props or easy play. But he saw no other solution. You adored Dick, but since you weren't biologically connected, you weren't under any obligation to stay together for him.

But a baby of your own? That wouldn’t keep you out of his life. Therefore, his heart returns to a normal rhythm, when he is assured that the condoms they use are all leaky, that the emergency pills are pure placebos and the regular vitamins are replaced with prenatal vitamins.

He knows you wouldn't get rid of the baby, and that's why his hands don't feel heavy when he does all that; they don't bother him when he sneakily fixes up one of the old nurseries, when he puts ideas into Dick's head that he'd make a great big brother.

Because he knew that was true.

Dick would be a wonderful big brother, you would be a magnificent mother and he would be sure to be the best father than any child could ask for.

#yandere bruce wayne #yandere batman #yandere dc #female reader #tw yandere #tw unplanned pregnancy #implied smut #bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader

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theresawritesstuff · 8 months

Note

Prompt - Midge finds out she's pregnant after her night with Lenny in the blue room.

She'd had this feeling she couldn't shake for the better part of a week. Nothing monumental or show stopping or obvious, just…Something. An intuition.

One she hadn't been truly sure of until the moment she saw him standing in that empty hallway. Bound for California…

Still, they made small talk. She held her tongue.

They were already leaving things unsaid that were much more certain than this. He had enough on his plate…

"Okay…You take care."

He turned to go, bag in hand. Off to make a life for himself on the west coast for who knows how long. Maybe forever.

She should let him go. She should…

"I think I'm pregnant," she heard herself say.

He turned back, not sure he heard her right. "What?"

"It's early," she told him quickly, the words tumbling from her mouth or their own free will. "I-I haven't even been to the doctor yet to confirm anything but I just…" She let out a shaky breath. "Christ. And now you've got a plane to catch and a lease and–"

"Wait…" He strode back to meet her at her side, processing. "You're saying it's…"

"Yours," she confirmed. "Yeah…"

He nodded, looking a little pale as he covered his lip with his finger. "You're sure? That I'm…"

"There hasn't been anyone else in a long time so…"

"Wow…" He puffed out a breath, glancing at the terminal anxiously. "Um–"

"I'm sorry. I know it's terrible timing. I shouldn't have said anything but–"

"But we don't call?" he offered a little sadly, turning her own words back on her.

She deserved that.

She hadn't been expecting a call from him after the way things ended at Carnegie, after she'd screwed up so astronomically.

Doesn't mean she hadn't wanted him to…

"We probably could have made an exception," she replied, attempting for light-hearted and not quite succeeding.

Lenny nodded. "Probably. Still, a guy likes to hear this sort of news in person when he can."

A tinny voice announcing the start of boarding for his flight to Los Angeles echoed off the walls around them, intermingling with the quiet strains of their song on the radio…

Lenny exhaled a sigh. "Look just…wait here. Okay?"

"Lenny." She knew she couldn't ask him to stay. That it wasn't fair to spring this on him like this. It wasn't fair to either of them.

"Just…wait. Please," he begged.

She nodded quietly. "Okay."

She'd always had a hard time saying no to him when he said please.

He got a flight attendant to help him retrieve his checked suitcase from the luggage, a pink baggage tag hanging brightly against the handle.

"You didn't have to do that," she told him when he returned, even if she was grateful he had.

"I'll catch the next one," he replied.

"Is there anyone you need to call? Let them know you'll be late?" she wondered.

"I'll call my mother later," he promised. "But we should talk first."

"I suppose we should," she admitted.

"Bar? Not for you but–"

She held up a hand mercifully. "I get it. Bar is fine."

They made their way to a quiet corner of the airport lounge in hesitant silence.

He pulled out her barstool for her, treating her with kid gloves.

"Thanks," she gave him a smile, hoping to hide her nerves.

God this sort of thing had been so much easier to talk about when she had a ring on her finger and a ten year plan carefully laid out.

He took the barstool next to her, ordering a whiskey for himself and a club soda for her, tapping the bar nervously as they waited.

"So," he ventured. "Pregnant?"

"'fraid so," she murmured.

He took a moment, letting them both come to terms with it.

"Haven't you got a rocky history with that word on stage?" he teased finally.

She laughed despite everything. "Maybe they'll give me a few extra seconds if it's my own condition I'm talking about."

"Maybe," he conceded, downing a bit of his drink. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Fine. Really good actually. No nausea or anything like that yet."

He nodded quietly. "Okay. Well that's something. Otherwise I'd feel like a real schmuck."

"I'm sorry for dropping this on you," she told him genuinely.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Pretty sure I'm the one who asked to see your corset that night. We both had a hand in…well, you know."

"I do," she replied, smiling softly as she stirred her straw idly around her glass. "At least it was a memorable night."

"I aim to please."

He looked down at the bar.

"How um…how far along would you guess you are?"

"Not very. They actually start tracking from when your last cycle was instead of from the actual doing of the deed, so…about a month?" she guessed, belatedly realizing what she was admitting to. "Too much information?"

Lenny chuckled. "I think we're passed that point, Midge."

She shrugged. "Just wasn't sure how squeamish you were."

"I'm not," he assured her.

He took another fortifying swig from his glass.

"So…what do you want to do?" he wondered hesitantly.

Midge blew out a breath, giving it some thought. "We could try calling? I've heard a few positive remarks on the concept. And you could visit if you want or I could come out to California, at least while it's still okay to fly." She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve as she second guessed herself. "Or I could send pictures if you'd rather we just…"

She trailed off, noting the tender, bewildered look in his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "I just assumed you wouldn't…You want to have this baby? My child? Our…"

He swallowed, struggling to find the words. "That's something you want?"

"Well the timing isn't ideal but…yes," she admitted.

"You're sure."

"Yes," she replied.

"There might be a little Lenny Jr running around making your apartment a mess, ruining your wallpaper in the not exactly distant future, and you're on board with that?" he asked again, a fond sort of smile creeping into his expression.

She shrugged. "There are worse things."

Lenny smiled, sipping his drink slowly. "Yeah I suppose there are. Timing isn't exactly ideal but…"

"But…" Midge agreed.

He turned towards her cautiously, considering his words carefully. "I don't mean to sound indelicate, but what about your career?"

"I've got two other kids at home, what's one more?" she quipped dismissively.

He gave her a look. "Midge."

"It's fine, Lenny. I'm not exactly new to juggling motherhood with stand up. I'll figure something out," she assured him. "I'm not gonna blow it. I promise."

He reached over, putting a hand over hers atop the bar.

"We'll figure something out," he corrected. "And I'm going to hold you to that promise."

She squeezed his hand gently. "I appreciate that, really. But I'm not trying to make you feel like your on the hook or that you're obligated to–"

"Miriam," he said, looking at her fully. "As the mother of my future child, please give me a little bit more credit."

She felt a flush creep across her skin at the sound of her full name on his lips.

"Okay," she agreed quietly.

He nodded, removing his hand from hers. "Good."

She sipped her drink, averting her eyes towards the bar.

"I don't think you've ever called me Miriam before," she informed him.

"No?" he asked curiously.

"No." She shook her head, glancing up at him. "...It was kind of hot."

He put a hand over his mouth to hide a very bad smile.

"Something to keep that in mind for next time, I suppose," he replied.

She arched a questioning brow at his confidence in a next time, laughing to herself.

"What?" he chuckled. "I can't exactly knock you up any more than I already have now, can I? Wouldn't hurt to make the best of it."

Midge smirked, stirring the ice in her drink.

"That depends. Do twins run in your family?"

"Not that I'm aware of," he replied. "You?"

"No." She smiled, feeling more at ease with their old patter back.

After a moment she admitted, "You know. If this sort of thing had to happen, I'm glad it was with you."

"Yeah? Why's that?" he wondered.

She swallowed, wetting her lips.

"Because no one else has ever made me feel like you did that night. Made me feel cared for in that way."

"You mean when I hooked your leg over my–"

"Not that." She swatted at his shoulder lightly as they received a sidelong glance from the bartender.

Lenny smirked, looking rather pleased with himself as he arched a contradictory brow in her direction.

"Okay yes, also that," she conceded, keeping her voice hushed. "But I meant after. When you held me just to hold me. It was…it was really nice."

"I concur," he murmured. "At least until the slow runners called."

"And I found that bag in your bathroom."

He nodded, growing somber.

"Right. That."

"Is all really well?" she asked gently. "I know I didn't handle bringing it up well last time but I need to know, given that you knocked me up and all…Are you okay?"

She reached out to retake his hand in hers.

He turned his palm over, lacing their fingers.

"I'm working on it," he replied eventually.

"Well if there's anything I can do to–"

"There isn't really," he informed her softly. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

She nodded quietly. "We can talk about it another time. Now what about that pack of lawyers of yours? What are we dealing with there?"

"Midge, this wasn't supposed to be a talk about my problems," he reminded her.

"Too bad," she replied, hopping off the barstool to dig one of his files out of the bag at her feet.

"Miriam," he admonished, lowering the timber of his voice as he slid around her to get the file.

"Nice try," she smirked, flipping it open on the bar, glancing over what appeared to be a billing statement of some sort.

"Jesus Christ Lenny, are you really paying these guys that much?"

He shrugged, slumping back into his bar stool in defeat. "It's either that or face some options I'd care for even less."

Midge shook her head. "You're getting ripped off."

"You know your way around a courtroom better than I do?" he wondered incredulously.

"I know a guy. Mike Kessler. He'll charge you way less than these vultures and he's good. Better than good. You should call him. I might have his number in my purse actually."

"Midge, I've got a lot more charges against me than just saying a few naughty things to a crowd in the Village," he reminded her.

"And flashing my tits. Allegedly," she corrected with a smirk.

He blinked at the image. "I think I missed that."

"You were waiting for me out front. We just didn't know it yet," she replied, pulling the card in question from her purse.

She placed it against his chest, holding her hand over his heart. "Call him. I'll put in a good word," she insisted.

He shook his head, lifting her chin with the crook of his index finger to kiss her.

She was more than happy to oblige, letting herself get pulled in by his embrace, her eyes drifting shut.

"Thank you," he replied when their lips parted, holding the business card between his fingers, pocketing it pointedly. "Now back to why we're really here."

"You've still got the lease and the daughter out in California," she reminded him.

"Kitty," he informed her.

She smiled. "Kitty. That's a sweet name."

"Thanks. She's a sweet kid. Yours are…"

"Ethan and Esther," she answered.

"Right," Lenny nodded. "Are they in school?"

"Ethan just started kindergarten this year."

"So did Kitty."

Midge couldn't help but notice the proud little spark in his eyes at that.

"How long's the lease?" she wondered.

"Six months. At least to start had been the plan."

She nodded to herself. "We can work with that."

"Maybe Kitty and I could come visit over Hanukkah," he ventured.

"I'd like that," Midge beamed.

"Me too."

Lenny smirked to himself, finishing the last of his drink, setting it aside.

"God, I feel like I should be offering to buy you a ring. Getting down on one knee to make an honest woman of you or some shit," he admitted, pulling some money for their drinks from his wallet.

Midge let out a laugh. "Well how could a girl say no when you put it like that?"

His eyes searched hers, looking for an answer to the question he hadn't quite asked.

"I don't need you to propose, Lenny," she replied gently. "Not right now. I…"

She let out a breath. "I don't want you to marry me just because you think it's the right thing to do."

"I can think of a few other reasons," he drawled, placing the money on the bar.

She shook her head. "I need to know that if you propose it's because you love me. First and foremost."

He nodded, getting to his feet slowly.

His hand came to cradle her cheek as he looked into her eyes, taking her hand in his other and bringing it to his lips tenderly.

"First and foremost," he promised.

He exhaled a sigh as the clock on the wall caught his eye.

"You need to go," she guessed.

He nodded, his thumb tracing circles across her hand, reluctant to let go.

"Promised Kitty I'd be home for her birthday. Should probably try to make good on that."

"Lucky girl."

He smiled softly, gathering his things.

"I'll call you when I get settled. Promise."

"Okay," she agreed, getting to her feet. "I guess I'll keep you posted on what my OB has to say."

"Please do."

"Not exactly how you expected your afternoon to go, hm?" she teased.

"One could say that."

She took him in in that moment, memorizing the lines in his face, the light in his eyes.

She'd never expected Lenny. Her whole life she'd made careful plans for herself but she'd never once expected him. Never thought to imagine that someone like him would drop into her life, become one of her dearest friends and steadfast supporters. Never expected him to slowly steal her heart along the way.

Was it any wonder that an unexpected pregnancy after a night spent in his arms felt strangely right, even now with the cards stacked against them?

"We'll figure it out," she promised.

He nodded, gathering his things in hand, a little bit of hope in his eyes that hadn't been there at the start of this.

"See you at Hanukkah?"

"Can't wait."

She watched him walk away, still bound for the west coast. But this time it wasn't a goodbye.

It was the start of something much better.

#Midgelenny #midge x lenny #Tmmm ficlet #Prompt fill #tw pregnancy #cw pregnancy #unplanned pregnancy #canon divergence #A bit of a stretch of the original prompt. Hope that's okay #Rewriting the airport scene felt like the way to go

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universitypenguin · 2 years

Text

Part VI

Summary: Lloyd is asked to help with a dangerous problem and the reader is drawn into a family dispute.

Word Count: 7,568

Warnings: Suggestive content, inappropriate for minors, no out right smut. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. Foul language. Internal angst from the reader. Discussion of family problems and unplanned pregnancy. Hints of potential parental neglect. Depiction of stalking. Chapter content includes: an accusation of domestic violence (no specific details), several missing persons cases, a detailed analysis of a murder, and discussion about a serial killer.

Author's Note: I know this post is a bit late. My professor didn’t show up at her office hours, so I ended up spending five hours watching YouTube tutorials to figure out my question. She emailed me an apology and explained that she forgot to announce her office hours had changed. Begrudgingly, I’ve decided to forgive her.

Masterlist

The Princess and the Lawyer - Part VI

Clayton Bishop’s eye twitched when Lloyd propped his feet on the desk.

Lloyd smothered a grin and crossed his ankles. He smoothed out a crease in his trousers and waited.

“Do you have to do that?” Clayton asked, staring at Lloyd’s cognac wingtips.

“It’s my office. I like to be comfortable.”

“There’s such a thing as being too comfortable.”

“Not to me. Come on, Bishop. Why are we meeting at the crack of dawn?”

The text had come in last night, with only sparse details. Lloyd hadn’t been able to extract any more information out of him. Reticence was unusual for his former professor, and current boss, which meant Lloyd was brimming with curiosity.

“Are you familiar with the case of Shun Nguyen?”

Lloyd searched through his memory.

“Yes. He was convicted of murdering his girlfriend twenty years ago. There was a lot of media attention and the Singaporean government protested his treatment in prison.”

“Correct. It was my case.”

Lloyd knew that, but hadn’t wanted to bring it up. Nguyen’s conviction was controversial. Many believed him innocent. Twice as many thought he was guilty of more than just his girlfriend’s murder.

“Rumors that Nguyen was a serial killer abounded, but there was no proof. We didn’t find any more bodies but the one we had was enough to try him on. So, we focused on doing what we could with what we had.”

“Why are we discussing this? Nguyen’s serving a life sentence.”

“No, he isn’t. His case was overturned by the Virginia Supreme Court.”

Lloyd’s eyebrows arched. “I didn’t hear about it.”

“Presidential election year - headline space was limited. They voided his conviction and he left for Singapore, where he still holds dual citizenship.”

“I’m even more confused now. You know a murder case can’t be tried twice.”

Bishop reached into his briefcase and passed Lloyd a file.

“That’s not going to be a problem.”

Lloyd opened the cover. Empty eye sockets stared up at him from the glossy eight by twelve. It was a human skull, partially engulfed in concrete.

“Is this from the original case?”

He picked up the photo. The exact details of the case escaped him, but he remembered Dr. Nguyen’s girlfriend had been disposed of in a slab of concrete.

“Sort of.”

Lloyd glanced up at Bishop, surprised by the cryptic answer. He frowned at the level of detail captured in the photo. Cameras hadn’t been this good twenty years ago.

“When was this taken?”

“July 2nd.”

Lloyd raised an eyebrow. “Of this year?”

“Yes.”

“That’s two weeks ago. Who is this?”

“Several of Dr. Nguyen’s alleged victims still have open case files in Fairfax county. None of them were found. The cold case unit assigned the file to a new detective three weeks ago. He went to see where we found the first victim. On his way to the site, he found this.”

Lloyd groaned. “Fuck.”

“I used a lot of colorful phrases to describe my feelings when I got the call. But that was the sentiment I landed on, too.”

“Can I run this by you, as I understand it?”

Bishop nodded. “Sure.”

“Twenty years ago, you convicted Shun Nguyen of murdering his girlfriend.”

“Eighteen years ago. Setting the trial date took awhile.”

“Whatever. A conviction was won. Three years ago, the state Supreme Court overturned it. Then - just a few weeks ago - a new detective picks up the case, goes to the site where the first body was dumped, and finds… this.”

Lloyd took the photograph and turned it around, displaying the skull.

Bishop looked like he’d taken a bite of a lemon.

“Did I miss anything?” Lloyd asked.

“The concrete slab was dated to be approximately twenty-two to twenty-five years old.”

“So while you guys were working on the original case…?”

“This slab was about four hundred feet behind us the entire time.”

“And no one noticed it?!”

“The woods are thick. I’m just as horrified as you. More so, even. If we’d had these remains our case would have been far more compelling. Lloyd, this might be our second chance at putting Shun Nguyen away for life.”

“Nobody searched the woods? This victim just hung out in a concrete slab for an extra twenty years, while the other one was found a little more than a football field away?”

“We searched, but the perimeter was set at three hundred feet. We only found this body because of Detective Roth, and received its authentication report on Friday.”

“Holy shit, Bishop. Holy shit.”

Bishop folded his hands and regarded Lloyd somberly.

“You know why I’m telling you this, right?”

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

You were ten minutes late to work. In your left hand, you balanced a Starbucks carrier as you struggled against the fierce wind to latch the door. Finally, it clicked shut.

Jen’s office was your first stop. She made grabby hands at the drink carrier.

“My precious!”

You snorted and handed over her vanilla latte.

Jen sniffed at the aroma. “I love you.”

You took a step back. “That’s so sweet… but listen. I think we should see other people. My personal time is important to me - ”

“Screw off. I was talking to the coffee.”

You leaned against the door jam to her office.

“How’s summer vacation?”

“Once I pack these little monsters off to school, I’ll cry tears of joy.”

“Have they killed your garden yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve resorted to barbaric threats to get them to weed it.”

You grinned. “Let me know if you need any bamboo shoots. Or iron fetters.”

“Do you know how much easier it would be to just do it myself?” Jen asked.

“Hang in there. Gardening builds character.”

“Yesterday, Jason claimed my habanero plant was a weed and uprooted it.”

You cocked your head. “Are you sure it was an accident? The tomatoes are ready, you use habaneros in salsa, he doesn’t like spicy food…”

Jen’s eyes narrowed. “Unbelievable!”

“I think he’s a genius.”

Jen looked up, suddenly laser focused. “Speaking of hot stuff. Guess who had a bounce in his step this morning?”

“Andy?”

“Lloyd. I actually saw him smile.”

“Lloyd smiles all the time.”

“No, he doesn’t. I did a double take to make sure it was really him. There’s only one thing that puts an expression like that on a man’s face. He got laid.”

“Uh… okay.”

“Who do you think it was? He has no life, so the suspect list can’t be that long.”

You gripped the coffee tray. Lloyd had more of a life than Jen suspected.

“I wouldn’t know… we don’t really discuss our personal lives. Listen, I’ve got to run, early meeting.”

“You’re fifteen minutes late. If the meeting was early, you missed it.”

“Bye, Jen!”

You bolted down the hall.

In the elevator you slumped against the wall to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding. The level of adrenaline you were feeling would’ve been more appropriate for a life threatening situation than escaping an awkward conversation. Could you handle an intra-office affair? What if your lies were so obvious that everyone found out?

D.C was a very small town, with even smaller legal circles. You could ruin your fledgling career in a nanosecond. These alarming thoughts should have taken first position in your mind, but they quickly fell away.

A smile spread over your face.

Lloyd was in a good mood. You smoothed your hair, preening a little. The elevator stopped at the fourth floor and as you walked to Lloyd’s office, there was a bounce in your step.

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

You were taken aback by the sight of Lloyd sprawled on the sofa. One arm was draped over his stomach and the other behind his head. Bishop occupied the armchair cater-corner to the sofa. His left ankle was propped on his right knee. Both of them had rolled up their shirt sleeves and loosened their ties. It was a very serious look for eight a.m.

“I brought coffee?”

Lloyd scowled. “Throw Bishop’s in the trash. He doesn’t deserve it.”

You noted his irritation and switched modes. It was never openly acknowledged that moderating Lloyd’s hostility was one of your key duties. The tacit agreement was an odd twist in the office structure, but it kept the peace. Or rather, you kept the peace.

“I’m sure that isn’t true.”

You crossed to Bishop and handed him the coffee, then put Lloyd’s beside him on the end table. He adjusted his position so you could sit down.

When you were seated beside him, your eyes turned to the whiteboard behind his desk. It was reserved for analyzing major cases, and usually stayed in the closet. Today, it was plastered with pictures, papers, and color coded comments in black and blue marker. In the center, there was a photo of a human skull, halfway buried in concrete. Empty eye sockets peered creepily out of the 8x12, as if lifted from a de Gheyn painting. Rather than the artistic brushstrokes of de Gheyn, this picture was digital. Whoever had taken it had placed all focus on the skull. Without any framing or layers to add interest, the picture was rather stark.

“What do you think?”

Bishop’s question was a surprise. You realized he was watching your reaction.

“I guess someone pissed off the mob.”

Lloyd sipped his coffee. “That’s an angle we haven’t explored.”

Bishop raised an eyebrow.

“We don’t need angles. Nguyen did this.”

“That’s absurd. We have a responsibility to perform due diligence on all the possibilities. This case has to be approached with an open mind.”

Bishop ignored him.

“I’ve been working to get Nguyen to agree to an interview. You can take your time sorting through the new evidence, but trust me. All roads lead to Rome.”

“Don’t make assumptions,” Lloyd said.

“He’s the only person who would know the precise location of the prior dump site.”

You were tired of trying to follow their conversation without context.

“Who’s Nguyen?”

Bishop answered. “Shun Nguyen is a serial killer.”

“Objection, hearsay.”

You glanced at Lloyd. He’d folded himself into the corner of the sofa, and looked like a boxer squaring off with his opponent between rounds.

Bishop sent Lloyd an irate look and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, then explained.

“In the spring of 2002 a body was found near Cub Run trail. It’s a remote hiking path on the outskirts of Fairfax county in Stream Valley Park. After the body was found, I was asked to serve as prosecutor. The victim was a woman named Julia Xiarong. Her boyfriend, Shun Nguyen, was a resident physician at Forest View - that’s the community hospital in Harmony.”

“I’ve been to that park. My little brother’s baseball team plays tournaments there.”

“Have you been to Harmony?” Bishop asked.

“I’ve driven through it a few times. It’s a cute town.”

“In the early 2000’s they had a rash of missing persons cases. All the victims were young women and none of them have been found.”

“Wow.”

Lloyd jumped in.

“Because there were so many missing women, the locals theorized Nguyen was a serial killer. The police went along with it, and Bishop ramped up the circumstantial evidence to get a conviction. Somehow, even without a shred of solid evidence, he won. Three years ago, the Virginia Supreme Court overturned the ruling and Shun Nguyen returned to Singapore.”

Your eyes darted to Bishop, expecting a defense. He held up his hands.

“I admit it. I won the case on my ability to argue and not the facts. But what doesn’t hold water is that this body shows up twenty years later. In the same place! He’s the only person who would know where to put it!”

“Wait. What? These aren't Julia’s crime scene photos?”

“No,” Lloyd said, his tone a little bit too sarcastic for your liking. “Bishop. Please, elaborate on how these pictures came to be.”

The older man sighed. He recounted how the cold case investigator looking into the missing persons cases had found the new slab. It was discovered only four hundred feet from the original crime scene. This newly discovered victim appeared to pre-date Julia.

You reeled, struggling to absorb the idea that a second body could be found, years later, so close to an active crime scene. This woman’s body had gone undiscovered for decades, while another victim had gotten justice… Well, it was probably a stretch to call Nguyen’s overturned conviction justice. It was insane. You could understand Bishop’s position. It was definitely possible this was one of the missing women.

“I guess Detective Roth is very good at his job,” you said finally.

“And we were very bad at ours. A point Lloyd has spent the morning emphasizing at every turn.”

You looked down at the coffee table, littered with papers from the original case. One page was marked with the letterhead of the Virginia Supreme Court and it caught your eye.

“Why go over the past? It would take a new case to get Nguyen back in court.”

“My point exactly,” Lloyd said. “I’ll agree there’s reason to suspect Nguyen of being a serial killer. But accusing him in court is ridiculous. I can’t believe his defense let you play that card.”

“His attorney was expensive, but not very sharp. The case was high profile and it attracted the opportunists. Nguyen hired a suit from New York who was there for the publicity. I’ve never been so confident in a verdict.”

“Everything was built on circumstantial evidence. You don’t have anything placing him in the woods. You don’t even know exactly when Julia went missing. There are massive holes in the case and the timeline.”

Bishop shrugged. “I’m aware. If you’d been his lawyer, he would have walked.”

“How many criminal cases would you say are built on circumstantial evidence?” You directed the question to Bishop.

Lloyd’s jaw flexed. You knew circumstantial evidence was a large part of most cases. Lloyd had debated this with you in the past. The question was for Lloyd’s benefit - a gentle reminder that Bishop’s case wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be.

Bishop lingered another hour, discussing the details as you took notes. Lloyd paced, rearranged the whiteboard, and then arranged it back to its original state. He twirled his pen and responded to questions with grunts. Maybe Jen had imagined the bounce in his step this morning. He was certainly in a dark mood now. At ten, Bishop left for an unrelated meeting at the department of justice.

You sorted the papers into stacks according to chronological order. The first pile was the original crime, the next Nguyen’s appeals, and the last was from the recently discovered body. You looked at the two thick stacks of information, and the slim third one.

“Do you think Detective Roth would share the cold case files?”

“Bishop sent a courier for it.”

You reviewed your notes, trying to ignore Lloyd burning a hole in the carpet. Watching him pace was making you nervous.

“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? On April 19th of 2002, hikers reported seeing a skeletonized hand poking out of a concrete slab. When the police arrived, they identified the fingers as belonging to a human skeleton. Then, based on the reports, every single agency in Fairfax County showed up.”

“Why?” Lloyd asked.

“The missing women. They suspected this was one of them.”

“Tell me about the victim.”

“Julia Xiarong. She was identified through cutting edge DNA analysis. There wasn’t much left to examine, apparently.”

Lloyd paused his pacing and turned.

“What do you mean, cutting edge analysis? They had bones. Just take a bone marrow sample or examine the teeth.”

“Her teeth were destroyed. The coroner’s report attributed it to a post-mortem gunshot wound to the mouth. And the body was soaked in some kind of basic solution. Trace amounts of sodium hydroxide were trapped under the concrete. The forensic analyst said the bones were delicate, almost powdery, and ‘crumbled like shortbread,’ when touched.”

“Is that what led them to Shun?”

“No. His scientific knowledge did make him a great suspect, though. They initially questioned him because Julia was his live-in girlfriend.”

Lloyd crossed to the coffee table and picked up a file. Clipped to the front was a glamor photo of an Asian woman with a delicate, heart shaped face.

His eyebrows went up.

“I’ve never seen her photo before. From what I recall, Ngueyn wasn’t anywhere near attractive enough to be with this woman.”

“Wounded gazelle syndrome.”

“What?”

“Lions go after wounded gazelles, not healthy ones. Julia was pretty, but she had issues. The defense attorney’s research uncovered a string of jobs she couldn’t hold down, four psychiatric hospitalizations and several run-ins with the police for manic episodes.”

“That wasn’t on the news,” Lloyd said.

“The media focused more on Shun. They painted a caricature of him as a psychotic surgeon, even though he was on an internal medicine track.”

“What turned the police’s attention to Shun?”

“The same thing that allowed Bishop to convict him on such thin evidence. He was the only person with a motive. Once the DNA report confirmed it was her-”

“Wait. How did they manage to confirm her identity so quickly?”

“She was in the CODIS database.”

Lloyd cocked his head. “What kind of run-ins with the law did she have to end up in CODIS?”

“The DNA collection wasn’t related to her mental problems. She was never charged with a felony. After her manic episodes, they’d let her dry out in jail and then send her to a mental facility. After a few visits Julia underwent electro-shock therapy. It looks like it worked. In the three years between the treatments and her death, she didn’t have a single run-in with the law.”

“Then why the CODIS file?”

“Because Julia was an illegal immigrant. She’d been caught the previous summer with an expired visa and ordered to return to China. They took her finger prints and a DNA sample, which was standard procedure for immigration at the time. She was released and disappeared. The police think she was living with Shun because of her documentation problem. There’s no need to put your name on the lease if you’re not the principal tenant.”

“She needed him for more than just financial support.”

“Yeah.”

“Was he charged with harboring an illegal immigrant?”

“No. They had him on murder, it would’ve been irrelivant.”

Lloyd shrugged. “This is Bishop. He tends to throw everything but the kitchen sink at a problem.”

“Well, U.S. Customs and Border Patrol registered her DNA in the CODIS database after she was detained. They followed up and learned from the roommate that she’d moved out without notice. When they were unable to confirm that she’d left the country, they filed a report and moved on to more pressing issues.”

Lloyd nodded. “What else?”

“For obvious reasons, Julia didn’t work after she moved in with Shun. Prior to their relationship her immigration report shows jobs at various nail salons, a sewing factory, as a cigar roller, and then a bartender.”

“Isn’t that how she met Nguyen? She moved positions from cigar roller to bartending in their lounge.”

“Correct.”

“He didn’t report her missing, right?” Lloyd asked.

“Right. She was estimated to have been killed two weeks earlier. The detectives were suspicious when Shun said he wasn’t concerned by her disappearance. He played up her mental health issues and admitted they’d had relationship problems.”

“What happened when they ran down his tip?”

“Julia was popular in the neighborhood. Her friends painted a different picture. According to them, she saw a psychiatrist monthly and never missed a dose of her medication. They accused Shun of being emotionally and financially abusive, and said he’d been ‘physical with her’ before. She wanted to leave him, but couldn’t because of her immigration status. One of her friends had helped arrange a legal consultation to try and resolve her problem.”

“What did Shun say?”

“That he was sick of Julia and wanted to break it off, but she was clingy.”

Lloyd snorted. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. That was his story. My girlfriend is a lazy gold-digging nut job. They countered with what her friends said and he flipped out. Apparently, she wanted him to get rid of his Singaporean citizenship and marry her.”

“Is that why he decided to kill her?”

“Maybe. He stills claims he had nothing to do with her death, so who knows?”

“What was the evidence against him?” Lloyd asked.

“As far as physical evidence placing Shun at the scene, there’s nothing. A shell casing from a .22 was found in the woods behind his house. Further into the woods police located a patch of dead grass that had been doused with bleach. Cigarette butts were recovered from a grove of trees in the side yard, but didn’t yield any DNA.”

“Did Shun smoke?”

“No. The defense argued the cigarette butts proved someone else was involved. Bishop countered that a gang of local teens had been on a crime spree in the neighborhood, and the cigarette butts probably came from them. The so-called ‘crime spree’ was more like mischief than actual crimes. They vandalized garage doors, tipped over a play-house, and my personal favorite… dyed a swimming pool pink.”

“Cute. Were the teenagers questioned? Were they smokers?”

“No, they never got caught. Kudos to them.”

Lloyd tilted his head. “Have you ever dyed someone’s swimming pool?”

“I wish I’d thought of it, but no. My high school had an Olympic size pool. It would’ve been a great senior prank.”

“You know, I’ve seen your high school records. Thirty-seven detentions, but you graduated at the top of your class. How did you find the time?”

You glanced at your notes.

“Actually, that’s a good question for Shun. He was in residency when Julia disappeared and records show he was working double shifts. How could he have killed her, put her in concrete, set the concrete, and moved her into the woods?”

“That question has hung over the case for years.”

“The Virginia Supreme Court found it compelling enough to overturn his conviction,” you said.

“What about the jailhouse witness who claimed Shun confessed to him?”

“Dead in 2015.”

“And who was the co-worker who testified?”

“He works in Baltimore now. On the stand, he said Shun acted weird that week. He took several long lunch hours and was late twice. Bishop spun the testimony into a riveting story. During deliberation, the jury asked to see the transcript of his statement.”

Lloyd sighed. “That’s as terrifying as it is amazing. Bishop is a wizard.”

You closed your notebook and slipped off your heels, tucking your legs underneath you in a more relaxed position.

“I don’t think we should work this case,” Lloyd said.

“Why not? We’ve worked murder cases before.”

“A few, but those cases were mostly solved before we took them on. This is different; Nguyen has been killing for a long time. He’s a clear, present danger.”

“I thought you didn’t believe he was a serial.”

“Based on evidence, I don’t. Based on gut instinct, I do.”

“You’re saying the case is too dangerous.”

Lloyd nodded.

“For me? Or for you?”

His eyes flashed and you knew you’d hit at the heart of the matter.

“Both.”

“Bullshit.”

You kept your tone mild. Lloyd’s lip curled, flashing his teeth.

“Look, you fit his victim type. You’re young, pretty, and working in a professional job. Bishop thinks our combined interview skills can crack Nguyen. Or at least get something from him that will point in the right direction.”

“I might throw him off balance. That’s an excellent reason for me to go.”

Lloyd pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

“Or a fabulous reason not to. Damn it, Princess, have you ever watched Dateline? This man is a serial killer. He’s not a run-of-the-mill, heat-of-the-moment murderer. Nguyen is dangerous.”

“He lives on the other side of the world. How much of a threat can he be?”

Lloyd flexed his jaw. “I don’t want you involved.“

“But you don’t have a specific issue that merits it.”

“Can’t you be reasonable?”

“I’m the epitome of reasonableness. You’re the one foaming at the mouth.”

He snarled. It was an intimidating expression, one that would have made even a seasoned junkyard dog back down. You didn’t so much as blink. When Lloyd’s face smoothed out, you smiled.

“If I can handle you, I can handle him. And if I’m wrong, you’ll be there. If that happens, I promise to let you rub it in.”

Lloyd grunted. He stood up and paced in front of his desk as he considered it. Finally, he sighed.

“Fine. We’ll take this cluster fuck of a case. Afterall, it’s a favor to Bishop.”

You bounced up from the sofa, throwing your arms around his neck with a squeal.

“We’re hunting a serial killer! How is this my real job?”

Lloyd clasped your waist, drawing you against him.

“Could you try showing a glimmer of self-preservation, if only to make me feel better?”

“Bishop made a good decision. You’re the perfect person for a case like this.”

Lloyd rubbed the small of your back. “Why?”

“You’re rude, you enjoy ruffling feathers, you don’t care about small town politics or media attention, and we make an awesome interrogation team.”

He lowered his forehead until it pressed against yours. You stood on your tiptoes, unable to resist stealing a quick kiss. Lloyd’s lips brushed yours gently, once, twice, and then cinched his arm tight around your waist. He stepped forward, unbalancing you. To avoid falling backward you had to hang onto his shoulders and trust his supporting arm. As his mouth turned dominant and his tongue plundered your mouth, your knees went weak. You whimpered at the possessive exploration.

You were vaguely aware of Lloyd walking you backwards. When your calves pressed against the cool leather of the sofa, you gasped. Without pausing the kiss, he pushed you down and lodged his thigh between your legs. You moaned at the pressure of his weight. When he ended the kiss, you were pulsing with lust, eyes glazed, and breathless.

“That’s how I wanted to begin this morning.”

“Wow…” your heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings.

The frantic beating in your throat drew his attention and he bent to lick your pulse point. You shuddered, and he laughed.

“We should agree on what the boundaries are at work. I know you want to maintain a professional image, but I want to touch you.”

You squirmed, the question clearing the mental haze. He moved back so you could sit up.

“Can we pretend nothing has changed from nine to five?” you asked. “I don’t want to deal with everyone’s questions.”

“Your restraint is better than mine. I want to get you all hot and bothered in your sexy work outfits. No one will think anything of me closing my office door. I propose that you have to let me kiss you five times per day.”

“Three. I need to keep at least a few of my brain cells.”

“Four,” Lloyd countered.

“Three, and you can have one back rub per day.”

“Is the back rub deliverable upon request, or do I have to schedule it?”

“If you set up a back rub appointment on our Google Calendar, I’ll break your nose.”

“I’m not that stupid. How about this: if the office door is shut, touching is allowed?”

“Deal.”

“What are your thoughts on oral sex at the office?” Lloyd asked.

“No!”

“How about bending over my desk? A lunchtime quickie on the couch?”

“Ew! Clients sit on this couch!”

Lloyd smirked. “Am I hearing a ‘maybe’ to the desk proposal?”

“We can negotiate it later,” you said.

“I like where this is going.”

“Do you still want a full blown affair? I was worried you’d have second thoughts.”

His expression sharpened. “Why?”

“Are you sure you want to be with someone as inexperienced as me? If this isn’t going to be fulfilling for you…”

Lloyd relaxed. “No. Now, we can get started on the fun stuff… Namely, exploring all the needs you’ve spent years repressing. It will be fulfilling for both of us, I promise.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Lloyd brushed his thumb over your swollen lower lip.

“Consider me your sexual playground, Princess. And I always aim to exceed expectations.”

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

By the time Friday rolled around, you were exhausted, and not for fun reasons. Despite the heated kiss and Monday’s agreement, the case demanded your full attention. Lloyd dove headfirst into the mire. He acted as if driving himself to exhaustion would solve the case before it turned dangerous. Even after studying the old interrogation tapes of Nguyen, you didn’t feel the level of threat he seemed to. But the complexities of the case were consuming and made the work day fly by. You’d barely remembered that tonight was your nephew’s birthday party.

A text from your sister, asking if you could pick up a cooler of ice, was the only reason you hadn’t flaked. You pulled alongside what looked like your parents’ sedan in the parking lot of the picnic areas and looked around. Vivian’s invitation hadn’t given the specific location of the party. Combined with the errand to pick up the ice, you were running late and didn’t have time to run home and change. Your sister was such a space cadet.

You shaded your eyes and squinted against the sun, trying to spot a familiar figure. Was this even the right picnic area?

The air was thick with humidity. You wondered who could forget to bring ice to an outdoor birthday party in late July. Wasn’t the insufferable heat a constant reminder? Finally, you saw your Dad at the picnic structure by the lake.

Wasn’t that just fantastic? Right next to the lake.

If Vivian had wanted a more humid spot, she couldn’t have chosen better. The evaporation from the cold water was going to blow straight onto the guests. Virginia’s humidity was already astronomical during late July. You grabbed the cooler, and took a deep breath.

It was fine. You were here to have a good time. This was a celebration of Sam, your only nephew. Who cared about the humidity when there was Sam’s first birthday party to think of? Your hair was going to care a lot about the humidity in a few minutes. You tried to brush off your sour mood and frame the situation in a more pleasant light. Your hair didn’t stand a chance in this heat, even without the lake. Neither did anyone elses’ for that matter.

You weren’t normally this short tempered; work stress must be frying your brain. Maybe you would see if Lloyd wanted to help you relax…

Your mom saw you and called out.

“You found us! I was wondering if you were lost.”

Vivian obviously hadn’t explained that it was her forgetfulness that made you late. Mom noticed you struggling to drag the cooler over the clumpy grass and shouted across the field.

“Caleb! Help your sister.”

You stopped to wait for your youngest brother to sprint over.

“Grab the other handle. It’s impossible to roll it over the grass.”

“Nice shoes,” he laughed, noticing your flip flops.

He took the other handle and with two people, the cooler’s weight was easily managed.

“I came straight from work. It was the shower shoes from my gym bag, or heels.”

“You’re kidding, I thought hot pink flip flops and pencil skirts were on trend. Don’t you read fashion magazines, Y/N?”

“Read them? Please. Vogue is waiting for my input on the September issue.”

“Vivian, where do you want this?” your mom asked.

Your sister turned, baby Sam on her hip, and Alissa a step behind.

Your two year old niece sometimes reminded you of a Velcro dog. She was always on Vivian’s heels, so close that she could’ve been labeled a tripping hazard.

“Put it on the end of that table.”

Caleb made a half offer to help, which wasn’t authentic in the least, but it was more than most fourteen year olds would have done. You let him off the hook and he sprinted off to rejoin the family soccer game. Vivian tried to help, but Alissa kept getting in her way. The mechanical task of arranging the ice bucket and stocking the cooler helped settle your nerves. Vivian sat down and Alissa crawled onto her lap, bumping Sam. You watched from the corner of your eye, mildly impressed at how Vivian managed to balance both of them in her lap.

When you’d finished, you sat down with her to watch the soccer game. Your three brothers were pitted against your cousins and the match had turned ugly. They were lucky none of the real adults had stopped the game. Caleb tripped your cousin Noah as he stole the ball, then raced towards the goal without glancing back. You shook your head. Someone was going to end up in the ER if they didn’t settle down.

“I’m sorry about the ice,” Vivian said.

“That’s okay. You had a lot on your mind.”

“Yeah. The pregnancy brain is already kicking in.”

You froze. “What?!”

Vivian glanced around and lowered her voice.

“Shhh. Not so loud.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“I haven’t told anyone else. Six weeks, I think.”

“Does Juan know?”

You’d seen your brother-in-law, but hadn’t spoken to him yet.

Vivian grimaced. “Yeah. We’re not on the same page about it.”

“Sam isn’t even a year old!”

“He is today.”

You glanced at Alissa, who was peeking at you from behind her mom. She ducked under Vivian’s arm when your eyes connected.

“How will you take care of a newborn, manage Sam’s crawling, and get Alissa ready for pre-school?”

“Lower your voice!”

Your jaw clenched, but you shut up, waiting for a reply. Vivian looked sheepish.

“It just sort of…happened,” she said.

The silence buzzed.

It just happened.

Just like all of you had ‘happened’ for your parents. There was never any consideration given to what the child needed. In your family, children just showed up, as if their parents didn’t understand how one event caused the other.

“Don’t be so judgmental,” Vivian complained when you didn’t say anything.

You inhaled sharply and turned away, watching the soccer game, but not seeing it.

“I don’t know what to say.”

It was a lie. You knew exactly what you wanted to say. But you could feel the sizzle of temper that meant you needed to calm down before you spoke.

“Can’t you just be happy for me?”

What about the expenses? What about college funds, diapers, and medical bills? What about the amount of time it took to meet the needs of a newborn? Plus managing two toddlers? Vivian was only one person. Juan would’ve helped, but he worked two jobs so his wife could stay home. It didn’t help that said wife spent money like it grew on trees. You felt a spike of anger towards him. Juan was supposed to be the responsible person in the relationship!

“Don’t be such a bitch,” Vivian said.

Your temper exploded. “Bitch? Really?!”

“You’re being mean. I’m happy. Can’t you be happy with me?”

“How are you going to pay for this baby?”

You held up a hand when she started to speak.

“Actually, I don’t want to hear it. You’re doing exactly what Mom and Dad did, having kids without regard for your ability to care for them. There’s plenty of birth control options that would have prevented this, but you don’t care! Another baby is just a bundle of joy, isn’t it? Having three kids at twenty-two is irresponsible, Vivian. You can’t afford it.”

“Shut the fuck up! I take care of my kids and pay for everything!”

“No, you don’t. Mom and Dad have been paying your rent for the last two months.”

You shouldn’t have let that slip out. Dad would kill you if he knew you’d brought it up with her. Vivian steamrolled past the comment to attack your criticism of her parenting.

“My kids are well cared for! I’m a great Mom - you’ve said so yourself.”

“I know you have good intentions. But tell me, has Alissa talked yet? To anyone other than you? She’s not ready for preschool. When the baby comes, you won’t have time to prepare her. Do you remember how hard it was for her when Sam came home? She’s going to have separation anxiety when preschool starts, which will coincide perfectly to the baby teething. What happens then? How will you help her manage the stress? Or are you just going to let her feel totally displaced and abandoned?”

Vivian’s nostrils flared. “I think you should leave.”

“Before you kick me out, let’s go talk to Mom about this. She might have some ideas.”

Her chin jerked up and fear flashed in her eyes. You realized why she was delaying the announcement. As much as your Mom loved her grandchildren, she had three teenage boys at home who were rather expensive. Vivian and Juan relied on your parents to stay afloat. Lately it was a major source of tension. Your Dad wanted to keep helping them out, and your Mom wanted to tighten the purse strings.

The pregnancy announcement was going to rock the boat, and right now, you weren't helping matters. You stood up.

“I’m going for a walk.”

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

There was a trail around the park and you wanted to stalk the paved loop at full speed, but your flip-flops slowed you down. The asphalt was too hot for bare feet, which meant you had to move at a pace that was inadequate to express your frustration.

Your heart ached for Alissa. She obviously needed more attention than she was getting. She was such a quiet thing and Vivian was so scatterbrained she sometimes seemed to forget about her oldest child. You’d wondered before if Alissa’s clinginess was born from a fear she’d be forgotten if she didn’t stick close. Kids her age were known to have irrational fears - that was why you’d never said anything. Maybe you’d set aside your concerns too quickly.

With the addition of another child, Alissa became the oldest daughter. She moved another inch closer to turning out like you. Thinking of your shy, sensitive niece having that kind of responsibility put on her shoulders made your chest ache. You knew what the role entailed, how the stress never ended. Someone was always counting on you.

And who else would tie their shoelaces, check their homework, and prepare their lunch boxes? You were the one who signed the permission slips Mom always forgot. You made sure they were home by curfew. You made them hold hands when they crossed the street and participated in the library’s summer reading program.

You were the one they called when ice needed to be picked up. Tears stung your eyes and you had to stop to compose yourself. A few deep breaths helped you ride out the surge of emotion. Wiping your eyes, you sat down on a bench and checked your messages.

The first text was from Jen. She’d tripped in the garden and sprained her ankle, so the spin class you’d planned to try with her on Saturday was canceled. You sent her a get well message and emailed to notify the fitness studio you’d be absent. The other text was from Jake, who’d forgotten the passcode for the office’s side door. You sent him a voice memo with the numbers.

A twig snapped, and your head whipped around.

Your eyes darted up and down the trail, but no one came around the bend. There weren’t any footsteps approaching and hadn’t been for awhile. The snap of the twig hadn’t come from any particular direction, so you weren’t sure where to look. Before the noise the trail was silent. You’d been sure you were alone. Now, your skin crawled with the sensation that someone was watching. When your intuition raised the alarm, you didn’t question it, but you couldn’t tell what had set it off.

Something moved in the shadows and you whirled.

“Whoa!”

The man stepped back, hands raised in surrender.

“It’s just me, honey.”

“Sorry, Dad. You startled me.”

“I saw you and Vivian had an argument,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, the food’s done. Let’s walk back and get you a plate.”

You nodded, and glanced around one more time, suddenly very glad he’d come to get you. Within a few steps you’d fallen into step beside him. His silence created an urge to explain and even knowing that wasn’t his intention, you talked.

“I didn’t mean to storm off. Vivian upset me, and I just… exploded.”

“Sisters will be sisters.”

“I got emotional. I think I said too much.”

He laughed. “If you lost your temper, you definitely said too much.”

You made a face.

“Y/N, let it go. Vivian has the memory of a goldfish. In two days, she won’t even remember what you said.”

You had a bad feeling that this time, that wouldn’t be the case.

For the rest of the evening Vivian ignored you. Since she had a right to be angry, you gave her plenty of space. As justified as your concerns might be, you’d crossed a line. Alissa’s developmental delay in talking was a touchy subject.

After the party Dad recruited you for a soccer game against your brothers. With your uncle as the third member your team was severely handicaped by a lack of fitness and age. Caleb, the youngest of your siblings, could run circles around everyone. Hector was only two years older and he’d set a state record in discus as a sophomore. Diego, the oldest of the boys, played competitive soccer. Both of your teammates ordered from the senior menu. You had no chance.

The score was twenty-five to zero when you finally got the ball away from Diego. As you ran towards the goal, you saw Caleb approaching on the left.

He’d been tripping your cousins all evening, and his intention was obvious. Caleb was only a foot away when you feigned going right. Dropping your shoulder to sell the fake, you distracted him enough to swivel your foot and push the ball left. Caleb stuck his leg out at the same time you changed direction. He stretched as far as he could, trying to catch your ankle, but fell face first in the grass.

You caught up to the ball, pivoted and scored.

“No fair!” Caleb yelled.

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

Your mood was brighter after the game, having given Caleb what he deserved. It reminded you that not everything about being the oldest was a burden. After packing the empty cooler into the trunk, you sat behind the wheel, watching the last of your family cleaning up.

Should you apologize to Vivian?

Probably, but you weren’t done being mad. Her recklessness would have consequences and you couldn’t pretend to approve of her decision. You resolved to call her tomorrow if you were cool tempered enough for the conversation. Just as you put your finger on the engine start, your phone rang.

The caller’s ID was blocked, which wasn’t unusual. Everyone on Zach Hightower’s payroll used unlisted numbers, so you were expecting Landon or Jake.

“Hello?”

No answer. In the background, you could hear the crackling of wind.

“Hello?”

You double checked that the call had connected.

“Who’s there?”

Heavy breathing came through the speaker, then a mechanically distorted voice.

“You should never say ‘who’s there?’ Don’t you watch scary movies? It’s a death wish.”

Reeling, you stared at the phone. Had he just quoted a line from Scream?

You looked around, wondering if the caller was watching for your reaction. It didn’t take long to find the most likely source.

Caleb walked towards the parking lot, swinging a trash bag and smirking at his phone. He was the only one tech savvy enough to use a voice changer and a blocked number, and his motivation didn’t take much guess work. Your hand went to your seat belt, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

The phone rang.

Caleb was out of sight now, behind the wall of the dumpsters. You hit “answer” without looking at the screen.

“Do you know what happens when you mess with your big sister, Caleb? I’ll tell you what happens. I’m going to go home, find your precious Xbox, and set it in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Then I’ll have Diego pin you down and force you to watch me run it over. Multiple times. When I’m done, I’ll send you a piece of it every year at Christmas so you never forget what happens when you pull my chain. Are we clear?”

“Excuse me?”

Lloyd’s voice was tinged with amusement.

“Shit! I’m sorry. I thought you were Caleb.”

“I’m glad I’m not. What’d he do?”

“Prank called me.”

Caleb emerged from the dumpster enclosure, saw you and smiled.

You flipped him off.

He stopped, lifting his hands in a gesture that said, ‘what did I do?’

“I have some work news. Is now a good time?” Lloyd said.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Find your passport and pack a bag. You and I are going to Singapore. Nguyen agreed to sit for an interview.”

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

Next - Part VII

Masterlist

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

Tag List:

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@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @jesevans @mjey12 @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @ultrasilentwhispers @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Starting Over Masterlist

Marcus Pike x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Recently arrived in Texas and only slightly removed from his divorce, Marcus finds himself smitten with the women at the housewares store that is helping him furnish his new Austin condo. It becomes a more complicated situation than he could have expected, but Marcus has never been one to shy away from a challenge when love is on the line. ✨This fic takes place *before* the events of The Mentalist. ✨

Explicit chapters marked with **

Chapter 1

Chapter 2**

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5**

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8**

Chapter 9**

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue**

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #The Mentalist #The Mentalist fanfic #Agent Marcus Pike #tw unplanned pregnancy #tw divorce #ex spouse drama #dysfunctional family

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smallangstdemon · 4 months

Text

the hills are weeping slowly

❄️ Geralt & Ciri (POV Geralt)

❄️ T for difficult topics

❄️ Heavy angst, whump

❄️ CW/TW: unwanted pregnancy, past underage non-con

❄️ 2,8k

❄️ made for day 1 of @whumpuary!

❄️ Link

#fanfiction #the witcher #cirilla of cintra #geralt of rivia #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno1 #snow #secret revealed #angst #whump #tw: past non-con #tw: unplanned pregnancy

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justkeeponsimming · 1 year

Photo

Glitch: “Unicorn! Wait! Wait!”

Glitch doesn’t bother to get changed as he runs out of the bedroom after his girlfriend. He finally catches her in a brief, vulnerable moment - clutching her stomach as another contraction hits her. Glitch arrives at her side in an instant, grabbing one of her hands whilst the other gently rests on her stomach. He meets Una’s gaze throughout the contraction, showing his love and devotion as she breathes through the pain. Once the contraction subsides, Una fixes him with a pained smile.

Una: “Thank you. They’re getting stronger and closer together.”

Glitch: “Let’s get moving. Will you make it to the train station?”

Una nods, though Glitch can sense her aura turning tense as she almost hesitates. Curse the Sim Gods for not having functioning cars!

Slowly, Glitch and Una gather their things, get changed and make their way out of the apartment. Reed, Glitch’s sister, wakes up to the commotion. She offers to be the point of contact for relatives so that Glitch and Una don’t have to worry about calls and text messages during the birth.

It hits Glitch hard that he and Una will be leaving the apartment together for the last time.

#the sims 4 #ts4 #sims #simblr #sims 4 #differences in the family tree #ditft #quick legacy gen 7 #reed quick #legacy challenge #tw: unplanned pregnancy #tw: pregnancy

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kteabug · 2 years

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you and I, printed in ink

Summary: CEO Bakugo Katsuki stumbles upon a series called My Hero by Deku by chance, but soon he is completely engulfed by the series though the events start hitting a bit too close to home. With the author soon retiring, having more questions than answers about the series, he finds himself at a book signing event. What he wasn't expecting was to find his ex-boyfriend Midoriya Izuku sitting behind the author's table.

Pairings: Bakugo x Midoriya (past tense) | Bakugo x Setsuna

Word Count: 2820

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, unplanned pregnancy, and angst

AN: Based on the Twitter prompt by @/subbbyprincesss ( Link )

To say Bakugo’s irritated would be an understatement. Ever since the announcement of his marriage and fiancee’s pregnancy, work seems to refuse to settle down, mostly due to Setsuna’s declaration that he had been in a relationship when they met. Several of the companies they have contracts with are talking about pulling out, citing his indiscretion doesn't match their image and goes against their policies.

On one hand he can understand where they’re coming from, but on the other hand he couldn’t especially since the prior relationship Setsuna referenced had never been publicly announced. For all they knew, he could’ve simply been seeing someone else casually, but bad press is bad press either way and he gets that.

** “See if we can move my 2 o’clock to a dinner meeting, maybe a few drinks will keep Yagi Enterprises from pulling their contract and call Setsuna’s agent to confirm the time for her next appointment. She wants me there and it’ll look good with the press.”

Bakugo waits several seconds before annoyingly looking up, curious as to why his secretary hasn’t responded to him. He’s a bit shocked to see the blonde woman engulfed in her phone, repeatedly swiping down on her screen, attention clearly far from her boss.

The blonde clears his throat, “I didn’t realize I was interrupting whatever is so important you didn’t hear me.”

The woman pales, words tripping over each other as she rushes to apologize, seemingly forgetting the need to breathe.

Bakugo holds up a hand, not wanting to deal with the clean up if his secretary passed out in his office. “Well, what were you doing?”

Camie awkwardly rubs the back of her neck, embarrassment creeping up her body. “Uhm, well – my favorite author announced his retirement and his final book will have a limited release. I didn’t wanna miss it.”

Bakugo leans back in his chair, unsure of how to feel about what he’s just learned. Part of him had honestly thought she’d say she was messaging a lover or something, not trying to get some special book. Though now thinking about it, when was the last time he had bothered to read something other than corporate jargon, contracts and business emails? Maybe he should check it out since it was good enough to have his usually completely obedient secretary distracted.

** Izuku’s retirement announcement causes his previously published book to quickly run out of stock and get posted on various sites for astronomically high prices. Neither deter the blonde from getting the entire series and fortunately calling in a favor from Yaoyorozu Publishing got him two copies of the final book. He’ll chalk it up as his secretary’s end of the year bonus.

He didn’t have any expectations going in, though Camie did fill him in on the basic premise. My Hero by Deku: a queer series following two boys who grew up childhood best friends turned lovers and the ups and down that came with life and relationships.

He glances down at his watch, he has an hour before his lunch with Setsuna, figuring he’ll read a few chapters and easily put it down in time to leave. He’s completely wrong. At first the dedication page captures his attention.

‘To my image of victory, K.’

Something about it catches him off-guard, though he can’t really explain why. Then as he reads the pages, watches as each character grows individually and then together, there’s just something so raw, so familiar about it all. It isn’t until a furious Setsuna marches into his office that he realizes he’s been reading for over two hours, almost finishing the first book entirely.

Begrudgingly he put the book down, taking an early day to help quell Setsuna’s rage as he promises to take her to her favorite jewelry store. Once she falls asleep, he slowly climbs out of bed and heads to his study where he had the book series dropped off by his secretary. He rereads the dedication, still unable to figure out what about it left his skin feeling prickly, before jumping into where he left off.

He picks up the second book as soon as he closes the first one and that continues through each volume of the series. He hasn’t been this taken by a series since the All-Might comics from his childhood, something he realizes he shared with the main characters of the series. Just like the first, each dedication page makes something inside of him churn and the more it happens, the more frustrated he gets.

‘I’m glad I finally caught up to you, K.’

‘For the love of my life, K.’

Who is ‘K’? Who had helped give birth to this emotional rollercoaster of a series? Then he remembers Camie told him the author is retiring and he can’t help but wonder if this mysterious ‘K’ is the reason behind that. He tries looking it up online, but the social media accounts he finds for Deku are only about his books. The most recent post announcing that he’s planning to have a farewell book signing in a few locations.

** His driver looks back at him, not that he noticed with his nose stuck in the last volume of the series. He has read it three times already, trying to put pieces together that he isn’t entirely sure are there to begin with. That damn dedication has once again got to him, this time however leaving a breath caught in his throat and his mind full of more questions than any of the others had.

‘I guess we reached the end of our journey, Kacchan. I thought I could write our ending as well as I wrote our beginning, but I should have known – the deepest heartbreak can’t be put into words. I’ll always love you, Kacchan.’

He tries to think his way out of the reality that’s starting to build around him. Tries to think of some other reason for why everything that was written feels so gripping, why each word and each event described felt so familiar. Surely somewhere there’s another ‘Kacchan’ because he couldn’t let himself believe it’s him, that he’s the ‘K’ that is so deeply entangled within the series.

Which is why he was heading to the Tokyo book signing event – to actually see that the author isn’t the freckled-faced man he knew. To allow himself to get off the hook for being the reason for such heartache because the thought makes him sick. But life is cruel, at least that’s what Bakugo thinks when he walks into the bookstore and sees those green curls that filled all of his childhood memories.

“Excuse me?” The voice from behind him is annoyed. “Are you in line?”

“Oh, uhm,” he doesn’t know what to do, “go ahead.”

So this had been what Izuku was typing away at on his laptop any chance he got. He remembers once finding him curled on the couch, frantically hitting each key as if his life depended on it and how Izuku had practically slammed it shut when Bakugo came up behind him.

The dedication once again crosses his mind – we reached the end of our journey – and for the first time he lets himself realize how shitty he treated Izuku the last time they spoke, roughly a year ago. ** They had just gotten back to their apartment, emerald eyes shone as he chatted away about their upcoming trip, making mental lists of everything they needed to pack. He only stopped when the blonde grabbed his wrist, pulling him backwards.

“Kacchan?”

“Setsuna’s pregnant.”

“Oh.” Izuku walked into the kitchen, putting away the groceries they had just bought. He turned to look at his partner, a soft and innocent smile on his face and that nearly gutted the blonde, “do you have a backup model for that shoot?”

Of course Izuku thought it was about work, he never had a reason to think anything else of the comment and Bakugo was about to destroy him. He’d been waiting for weeks to tell him the truth, to confess about his late night excursions, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stand to imagine those emerald-colored eyes looking at him with anything other than love.

“Setsuna’s pregnant.” He watched bright eyes dull as a jaw clenched, “with my child.”

Loose green curls start to shake from side to side, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “No, no, because that would mean…”

Glossy eyes searched ruby red ones for some sign that he jumped to an awful conclusion, that his active imagination took hold of his thoughts, but he didn't find one. He couldn’t because the blonde looked away almost as quickly as his eyes met his, a glimpse of red colored guilt.

“Was it worth it?”

“Izu–”

“Answer me. Was it worth throwing us away? Throwing away years of friendship, of love? Worth ending a five year relationship over?” He ran his hands across his face, mind racing faster than usual.

“I don’t…I don’t know.”

“When did it start? Cause though it’s possible, I doubt it was just one time.”

“Back in March. We met for drinks to discuss her contra–” Bakugo stopped when Izuku glared at him, holding up a hand to stop him.

“So while I was away taking care of my sick mother, you were balls deep in some…some…UGH!” He stormed out of the kitchen, roughly dragging his fingers through his hair as he marched into their bedroom.

He had done everything for Katsuki. His whole life had been about him. From his childhood memories painted with youthful excitement over All-Might and playing pretend to their teenage years as he could only stand there watching the distance between them grow and finally to adulthood where they finally fell into each other’s arms.

His world, for 26 years, revolved around ash blonde hair and a bad attitude. Putting Katsuki before himself on several occasions because having him in his life was better than being without him. Izuku had even agreed to keep their relationship a secret, away from the cameras and spotlight so it didn’t interfere with how people perceived the blonde and his ability to perform his CEO duties. But what did that even matter now?

Tears blurred his vision as he grabbed whatever clothes he could from the various drawers he pulled out before he yanked clothes from the closet, stuffing them in a suitcase. He could hear Katsuki saying something but the blood that was rushing in his ears muffled most of it. Izuku didn’t care, how could it? Everything he ever did, all the choices that he made, none of it meant anything anymore.

“Izuku.”

Nothing. The greenette ignored him, maneuvering around the blonde to the bathroom and then the living room, snatching things to shove into the bag. Katsuki followed him around, frantically trying to get him to just stop and listen, increasingly growing more angry with each ignored plea.

“Izuku, fuck, just sto–” His sentence was cut off when the heavy black bag was shoved into his chest, confusion coating his face.

“Get out.” Izuku finally broke the silence.

“No, we need to talk.”

Izuku pointed at the door. “Get. Out.”

“Would you just fucking listen!?!” Katsuki was trying to remain calm, but he wasn’t being allowed to talk, to explain and it was chipping away at his patience.

“Will talking change the fact you slept with her? Will it change the fact that she’s pregnant?” He doesn’t wait for Katsuki’s response, “no, it won’t. We have nothing to talk about. Leave now.”

“No, dammit, talk to me!”

Izuku started to push Katsuki toward the door, repeatedly saying “just leave”.

Something snapped in the blonde. He had been trying to get Izuku to just listen, to hear him out because regardless of the pregnancy, he wanted to be with him but the greenette refused to just stop and give him a moment to explain. He couldn’t take it anymore, shoving Izuku backwards, his temper taking full control.

“Fine, fuck!” All he could see was red, ignoring the way Izuku was starting to finally crumble. Katsuki turned to open the door,but then stopped, barely bothering to glance over his shoulder. “It’s not like we could ever be more than this anyways.”

He pulled the door shut harder than he needed to, knowing that his partner, well ex-partner now, was finally letting himself fall apart. But what could he do? What he said wasn’t a lie. The lie had been the two of them pretending they could ever be more than what they were. That they could ever openly claim their relationship, ever start a family, or ever look like more than roommates to their friends. In some twisted way, Bakugo allowed himself to see his infidelity as a saving grace, something that in the long run would save him and Izuku from more pain down the road.

** “The book signing will end in fifteen minutes. If you want to get in line, please do so now.” A man with two-toned hair announces before leaning down to whisper something to Deku.

Bakugo makes his way to the line, letting whoever gets behind him cut so that he can be the last in line. He really should’ve thought this plan out because now that he’s here, nothing he had planned on saying sounds good enough. For the first time in his life, he’s starting to second guess his decision on coming here.

He could slip out now, pretend that he had never stepped foot in the bookstore. He had been horrible to Izuku the last time they saw each other, even going as far as sending Kirishima to gather the rest of his things from their apartment. Izuku looks like he’s been doing fine, what right does he have to disturb that?

“Uhm, sir? Are you in line?”

He looks over and sees the same man who made the announcement looking at him with a curious expression. Bakugo now realizes that he’s just been standing there, roughly ten steps from the table and that he’s the only one left around them.

“Fuck, I mean, uh, yes I am.” He quickly closes the gap, sitting his copy of the final installment on the table in front of Izuku.

“Who do I make th…” Izuku freezes, finally looking up at the man on the other side of the table. He tries to swallow the panic that’s climbing up his throat but his mouth is too dry. Never in a million years would he have imagined this happening. How did he even know he had written the books? Why was he here? He had made his feelings clear months ago.

“I didn’t know you were the author until I walked into the bookstore and I’m here because…well I don’t know. I guess part of me figured it was vain to think these books were about us and wanted to prove myself wrong. And for the record, I was an ass months ago.”

Izuku curses his mumbling, picking the pen up as he opens to the title page of the book. “Would you like it addressed to Bakugo or Katsuki?”

“Are those my only options?”

Izuku bites the inside of his lip, trying to keep it from trembling. He just wants this interaction to end, to leave the bookstore and go back to his apartment. He hates this feeling that’s tightening in his chest as the blonde looks at him like a wounded animal. As if he had been the one that broke them apart. He starts to scribble a message, letting the words just flow from the tip of the pen.

“Thank you for purchasing my book. Have a lovely night.” There’s a forced smile on Izuku’s face as he recites the same line he told everyone after signing the book(s) they brought. For some reason it just sounds like nails on a chalkboard to Bakugo.

Without much thought, he reaches for Izuku’s wrist as he gets up to leave. Izuku quickly holds up a hand to the two-toned haired man who starts to intervene before emerald eyes look at him.

“Is there something else you wanted to say?”

There’s a lot he wants to say, but doubts any of it will hold the meaning he wants. He could say I’m sorry, but what’s that worth now? He could ask how he’s been, but he’s not privileged to that information anymore. He could even see if he’d want to get a coffee, but he doesn’t even know if he still drinks it.

“Deku, huh?” Bakugo lets go of his wrist, looking down at the cover of the book “you’re far from useless, Izuku.”

“It stands for ‘I can do it’. At first it meant I can write our story.” Green eyes lock onto red ones, a soft smile on his lips, “but now it’s for I can get over you.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! | m.list

#my hero academia #boko no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bakugo x izuku #tw cheating #tw unplanned pregnancy #tw angst #bakudeku angst #bkdk #bkdk angst

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