#'i will never forget our three years of friendship' do you hear me crying!?!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daloy-politsey · 3 years ago

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On my first date with Yehoram, I offered him a sip of my prosecco at the hip Tel Aviv bar I had brought him to. He tensed, paused and quietly replied, “I’m not sure if I can. I don’t know if it’s kosher.” I immediately recognized his confession for what it was: a coming-out. I told him that it’s fine, that we can ask the waitress if the wine has a certification, that I grew up in an observant family too. He finally breathed.

I already knew that Yehoram is female-to-male transgender. In fact, it was the only thing written on his dating profile. Over the course of our year-long relationship, and then our seamless transition into friendship late last year, he explained to me that the queer community will often accept that he is trans but not that he is religious. But the same is not always necessarily true of the religious community – and particularly of his family.

There are many preconceptions about his family. The matriarch Mazal, 74, and patriarch Yehiel, 78, were both born in Sana’a, Yemen, and immigrated to the newly-declared State of Israel in early childhood. (Haaretz is honoring their request not to publish the family name.) They are visibly Haredi: Mazal wears long skirts and tucks her hair into modest black caps; Yehiel trims his salt-and-pepper beard, and wears a uniform of crisp dress shirts, black pants and a black velvet kippa.

They speak with heavy Yemenite accents – which have been at least partially adopted by their seven children – and their speech is seasoned with religious aphorisms and allusions. People are surprised to learn that Yehoram, 32, is accepted and supported by his parents, to a degree that is rare even in the secular homes of Tel Aviv.

At their kitchen table in a town near Rehovot, central Israel, Mazal has set out water, juice and a homemade cake. Yehiel has set down a voice recorder of his own, to make sure he isn’t misrepresented. They have a story to tell about being the parents of a trans son, and they have decided that I am allowed to tell it.

Before we begin the interview, both are apprehensive. After much deliberation, they decide that I can publish their names but not their images. Yehiel is a respected figure in religious circles: he serves as his synagogue’s main cantor on the High Holy Days, is a mezuzah scribe and kashrut supervisor for the Chief Rabbinate. He spends his free time poring over religious texts, with Yehoram often alongside him. His son no longer attends the local synagogue in which his father plays so large a role; the congregation knew him before his transition, and it could hurt his family’s reputation.

If someone goes to the rabbi with this article in hand and tells Yehiel that he’s out of the fold, “at our age, there’s no fight left. There’s nothing you can do,” he says. “It would destroy me.” When he thinks I cannot hear him, he says that he suspects that one of his contracts as a kashrut supervisor was not renewed for this exact reason – because of his unconventional family.

But if getting his story out shows religious parents that they can embrace their own LGBTQ children, he wants it published. “I want to help,” he says.

Mazal chimes in. “Both of us do. You hear these stories about parents throwing their children out ... I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how you throw out your child.”

She recounts going to the shivah of a friend of Yehoram’s – the transgender queer activist DanVeg, who took her own life in 2016. “I saw them all in the living room, with their heads on each other’s shoulders. I started to cry. I wanted to hug them all, to go one by one. And they came to me; they saw the look in my eye. There was a man who had become a woman, who came to hug me. And a young girl, and more. I couldn’t take it,” she says, wiping away tears that are coming faster and faster. “More and more of them told us that they’re alone, abandoned by their parents. How can you throw out your child? The child of a human being!”

I get up to hug her, and she cries into my back: “Why? Why would you throw your child out of your house? Why?”

They say they never suspected that Yehoram was different before he came out to them, if not unconventionally, as queer at the age of 18, some 14 years ago.

He did not employ the usual lexicon: “I told them, this is how I am – I’m wearing pants from now on and I’m not interested in men,” he recounts. In Yehoram’s absence, Yehiel recalls it as well. Yehoram sat his parents down in the living room and said his piece, and then asked his parents for a response.

“We got up immediately, as if it were coordinated,” Yehiel says. “We hugged [him] from both directions … and we told [him], ‘You have nothing to be afraid of, no need to worry. You’re our daughter, it doesn’t matter what you do.’” Yehoram then opened his backpack to show a couple days’ clothes inside. “If you didn’t accept me, I would have killed myself,” he told his parents.

From there, they worked to make sure that their son wouldn’t, for one moment, forget that he is loved and cared for. They also made sure that he could live a normal life. “It was important that he be self-sufficient, have a respectable career, be able to build a life without us,” Yehiel explains. “Every day, I’m afraid that he won’t be here. I think about how he can build his life so he’s not dependent on anyone else.”

Mazal and Yehiel tend to refer to Yehoram with female pronouns when he isn’t in the room, and occasionally slip into them when he is. To her, Mazal says, he will always be their daughter. “It’s hard for me,” Yehiel concurs. “[He] should be patient.”

Mazal calls him by his chosen name – an anagram of his birth name – to make him happy. “And to connect with [him] – what can you do? We love [him] either way. [He’s] our daughter.”

There have been difficulties in accepting him along the way, she concedes. But like many parents of LGBTQ children, they are mainly rooted in concerns that he will be able to live a safe, fulfilling life.

No one should mistake their acceptance for liberalism – they repeatedly note that the Pride Parades, with their scanty clothes and glitter, are unsightly. “The left brings it in,” Mazal says. “Non-Jews from abroad, with all their tattoos and whatnot.” However, their embrace of their transgender son and the many queer people who have passed through their doors does not come in spite of their firm religious beliefs, but is the direct result of them.

Yehiel, a lifelong religious scholar, has poured over sources biblical, talmudic, rabbinic and kabbalistic. The kabbalistic concept of the soul provides a simple explanation for the transgender phenomenon, he believes.

“We have the knowledge that Jewish souls can be reincarnated into anything – into non-Jewish families, into animals, even into food,” Yehiel explains. “We were taught that the soul of a man can be reincarnated into a woman, in order to remedy something he had done in a past life.”

When Mazal was pregnant with Yehoram, she had already given birth to five daughters and was hoping for a son. The couple went to a respected rabbi, who told them to buy a bottle of wine for the circumcision ceremony and to come see him 40 days into the pregnancy. Yehiel says that when the time came, it was hard to get hold of the rabbi to schedule an appointment, and they were only able to see him eight months in. The rabbi gave them the blessing regardless.

“The body was already formed female,” Yehiel says, but the prayers had worked: “The soul was male.”

And there is scripture to back up the existence of LGBTQ people within Judaism. “You’re not different, you’re not strange,” Yehiel says. “This [phenomenon] has always existed. It’s in the Torah, and it’s in the mystical sources.” Mazal adds: “It’s a shame that we don’t lay this out these days, to have everything written up and organized to say that it’s all there in scripture.”

At 26, Yehoram told his parents he was transitioning. He underwent top surgery – a double mastectomy – without informing them. “On the one hand, it hurt us,” Yehiel admits. “For us, it meant that’s it – it’s sealed. If he’d told us in advance, we would have told him to wait. Maybe the situation would change.”

But what’s done is done, Mazal says. “What hurt me is that [he] underwent the surgery and I wasn’t there. That ate at me.”

Both loudly agree that the important thing is that he is happy and healthy. “We hope just for success – and thank God there are many successes, so everything is alright,” she says. “I’m just waiting for children,” she laughs.

Yehoram, who has taken a seat next to her, smirks. Mazal jokes about him coming home pregnant one day. He’s slightly irked, but jokes along. A couple of years ago, he froze his eggs through Ichilov Hospital’s fertility clinic for transgender men, and hopes to one day become a father, no matter how he has to do it. His parents strongly supported the move. They have 31 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Yehoram asks a question of his own: Whether his parents want to talk about the time they took him to an esteemed rabbi in Tel Aviv, after he came out at 18.

“After he told us everything, we consulted with a rabbi,” Yehiel relays. “I remember that he got angry and yelled at him. I didn’t like that. He hurt him, and I couldn’t stay any longer, so we left.”

“The rabbi told me that I had lapsed, deteriorated in my spirituality,” Yehoram explains. It’s clear that he remembers it vividly. “That I had fallen.”

After that, the rabbi told him to leave the room, and for his parents to stay. “I heard shouting, and then you left the room,” he says to his parents. “You didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. We were quiet all the way home.”

No one discussed the incident for days after, and they barely spoke at all. After three days, Yehoram says, he asked his mother what had happened after the rabbi told him to leave the room.

“I didn’t know what happened, I assumed the worst. You told me that [Dad] got very angry and told [the rabbi], ‘How dare you hurt and belittle a Jewish soul?’ You said you had to give him however much money, and that you just threw a small bill onto the table and left the room,” Yehoram tells his mother. “It really surprised me. I thought you were on his side, and then I suddenly heard that you were on mine.”

When he is with us in the room, Yehoram sometimes seems agitated by his parents’ insistence that their acceptance has always been complete. He tries to direct them toward other instances, other rabbis they don’t or won’t recall. It is often difficult for parents to acknowledge the pain or discomfort that their actions caused their children, even if they were accidental. Mazal brings out a picture from Yehoram’s bat mitzvah, of them embracing the young girl he was. They look almost exactly the same, 20 years later, beaming. Young Yehoram, in a long-sleeved, high-necked dress, is smiling, but the smile does not reach his eyes.

Elisha Alexander, co-CEO and founder of the transgender advocacy and information organization Ma’avarim, says that even though Yehiel and Mazal’s acceptance of their son may seem unique, he would like to think it’s more common than we assume.

“There are religious and even ultra-Orthodox people who accept their trans family members, but it’s usually in secret. The main problem in these communities is the leadership,” he says.

But if more of them realized that embracing their children was a matter of pikuach nefesh – the Jewish concept that saving a life supersedes most religious commandments and norms – they would be more inclined to find a halakhic solution to integrating transgender people into these communities.

There is also a misconception that acceptance is a binary choice: That any parent who does not kick their transgender child out of the house or disown them has, by default, accepted them. “This could not be further from the truth,” Alexander says. “Accepting your child means accepting every aspect inherent to them, including their gender identity, pronouns and so on.”

When parents refuse to do so, their child may seek acceptance elsewhere. He adds that studies show that acceptance within the family drastically reduces the suicide rate among transgender people.

Knowing this, Yehiel says that any parent in his position must continue loving and supporting their child. “This child can fall,” he says. He does not mention it, but he is aware of the stories and statistics: trans youth who find themselves on the street face high rates of abuse and exploitation. Thirty to 50 percent of transgender teens report suicidal thoughts and behaviors – a rate three times higher than for teens overall. But that figure falls to 4 percent when families accept and embrace them, says Sarit Ben Shimol, manager of the Lioness Alliance for families and transgender children and teenagers.

Yehiel adds that it is the duty of parents to give children the support they need to thrive. “As a parent, it is your responsibility to tell your child: You are my child and you are my life. My life depends on you. Watch over me so that I can watch over you,” he says.

As we get up from our seats, Yehiel looks at me for a moment and asks, “If it’s not too personal – since we already opened up the topic – what is your relationship like with your parents?”

I tell them that I talk to my parents, and especially my mother, almost every day. That it was difficult for them to come to terms with my sexual orientation as well, and that sometimes I have an inkling that it still is, even if they won’t say it outright. But I try to be patient.

“Good,” Mazal says. “It’s important to be patient – they’re learning too.” She embraces me again, and Yehiel rests a hand on my shoulder. They invite me to come again, whenever I like. “After all, you’re like our daughter, too.”

#lgbt jews #transgender #judaism #jumblr #transphobia cw

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darkcitiesnluv · 3 years ago

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jake x fem reader cuddling !!! (fluff 🥺)

Here is it! I hope you like it! I really tried my best! 😅💜❤️💜@bloodsweat-bangtan

Warning: FULL OF FLUFF💖 but mention of " I'll die if you leave me"

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A yawned escaped from your mouth, waiting for class to end. It's been a long day for you with neverending tests. Can't wait for the time to rest....but wait! Don't you have an anniversary to attend? You widen your eyes and stood up from your desk.

" that's all for today class! " The teacher said with a smile. Everyone got up form their seats and prepared their backpacks to leave. You already had your stuff packed quickly so you were one of the first students to leave the classroom.

"BOOO!" A dark brown hair boy said as he jumped in front of you to scare you with opened fingers ready to tickle you.

" Ahh! Jake! You scared me!" You said touching your chest where your heart was beating fast. You slightly hit Jake on the shoulder gaining a giggle from him. "I'm sorry my precious baby..." He said with his Australian accent. One of the reasons why you felt so attracted to this boy.

Jake wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pull you into a warm embrace as he pinched one of your cheeks with his other free hand and forced an innocent kiss on your lips.

" Not-in school Jake! You know I'm shy!" You complained trying to pull away from him but he grabbed your wrist and pull you back to him, once again force you another innocent kiss just to tease you. "Sim Jake!" You said not controlling your loud giggles.

" Jake! Hyung!" Suddenly a short brown hair boy yelled from behind you two with his unzipped backpack and his shoe laces untied.

He stopped next to you and saw the way Jake was giving you all his love and attention. The young boy wiggled his eyes at you two as he nudge his elbow against your arm. " OoOoOo~" he teased making a whole scene.

" Riki! Stop that! And tie your shoe laces!" You scolded him sounding like a mother. That's how your friendship with the young boy was: a relationship of mother and son.............and Jake the father.

"I do it later, Jake are we going to play soccer with Heeseung today?..." Jake asked with a hopeful smile and look.

" Tomorrow little bro, tonight I'll spend time with my pretty girlfriend" Jake said as he peck your chubby cheek.

" Tch! You prefer to spend time with your boring girlfriend than with us, your super cool and fun friends?" Riki asked in disbelief with a fake disgusted face just to tease the heck out of you.

" Hey Niki-san! Careful on what you're going to say in front of my girl!" Jake defended you as he walked in front of you as if to protect you. How proud you felt to see him behave so protective towards you.

" Ok ok I'm sorry" Riki laughed. " Then tomorrow is it, see you later Y/n!" Riki waved as he ran off ahead of them.

Jake locked his fingers on to yours holding your hand. " I have little surprise for our second year anniversary...." He said quietly against your ear. You widen your eyes in shock. " I thought you forgot since you didn't mention it in the morning?" You asked covering your mouth.

" Nop..... you'll see tonight" he said softly kissing on top of your hand he was holding.

°°°

" Don't worry you won't fall! I'm right behind you" Jake chuckled as he stand behind you, covering your eyes. He was taking you to the place where the surprise was. " Ok we're here.....now open your eyes" he whispered to your ear as he lets go of you.

You slowly opened your eyes. You saw the beautiful scenery in front of you. It was like you were looking at a work of art. A small round table with delicious good smelling food, wine, a red rose and a happy candle sitting right in the middle of the table waiting to be a company by two beautiful strangers. The grass was cut short and it's green color was eye-catching. Large wide trees standing around the park like bodyguards protecting the work of art. It's orange, yellow, and brown leaves swinging around with the lightly wind🍃. Then there was the most beautiful view to see.....a river. You loved how the moon reflected itself on the blue deep water. You loved the way the moon shone on you two brightening the romantic mood even better. Let's not forget about the neon lights of the buildings and skyscrapers behind the river making it look almost like the universe.

" Jake ...." You let out breathlessly, a tiny tear leaving from one eye. " This is ..... beautiful....oh my god Jake! This is amazing!" You squeal and jumped on him, wrapping your hands around his neck, your legs around his torso, lips pecking all over his face. " Jake! This is beautiful! You did this all by yourself?" You asked.

Jake chuckled and nodded quickly. " Yes love, I did it all by myself" Jake....lied...well kind of. To be honest he did this with the help of two romantic freaks: Jay and Sunoo. Now don't get him wrong, Jake really is romantic, he actually came up with all this places for a special date, while the other two helped with some of the settings.

Either way the three did a good job and now we have a happy Y/n crying because of this beautiful masterpiece. " Oh my god!..Gosh!...Girl get off and let's eat!" Jake yelled as he couldn't handle so many of your soft kisses on his handsome face. Giving him one last kiss on his lips you let him go and run towards a chair.

Jake sat next to you. As the gentleman he is he served you food and a glass of the finest wine. "Heaur, what ma queen desarves....." He said exaggerating his Australian accent. You laughed at his silliness and lightly hit him on his shoulder. " Shut up Jake! You're making me cringe!" You still kept laughing inside while sipping your fine wine.

°°°

" Babe, Thank you for this, the food was delicious, the wine was delicious, the desert in front of me was delicious-"

" There wasn't any deserve-"

" You, babe, You are the dessert!" You exclaimed as you pull Jake down to the ground were you two were just sitting a second ago. You two laid on the grass watching the white moon slowly decreasing. Jake turn to look at your pretty side profile and admire it.

'I'm really dating the prettiest girl on this planet....' he thought to himself. You felt his intense gaze looking at you which made you look back at him as well. As you did he immediately looked towards the moon and pretend as if he never wasn't looking at you.

" Jake, stop! Oh my god Jake" you laughed as you fake punch his arm and side. Jake just flinched and squeak as you tried to. He tried his best to not let you tackle him like that but ended up failing. However, after five minutes he took power over you and had you stuck against him. Your back against his hard chest and stomach, his arms wrapped around together with your arms around your stomach. His breath hitting the tiny hairs of your neck and shoulder.

" I love you,......I love you....Y/n...." He whispered in your ear. You chuckled and smiled at the moon.

" I love you too baby, you're the best thing that ever happened to me, after going through a lot in the past, you've been there for me.....that's why I love you so so much and I swear! Listen to me?....I swear I'll kill myself if you ever leave me Jakey...." You suddenly said with a worry look as you immediately turn around to cuddle him completely; your tiny arms wrapped around his torso, your legs tangle up with his strong soccer player legs. You buried your head against his warm chest and smelled the autumn leaves smell of his cologne.

The thought of Jake Sim leaving you for whatever reason really scares you and you don't want it to become reality.

" Hey! Shhhhh! Don't say that....." He whispered and scolded you. He furrowed his eyebrows down clearly not liking what you just said.

" Babe, look at me.....babe?.....look.....and hear me clearly......I won't leave you....ever.....heard that?....ever princess....you also been there when i needed someone as well....my princess you're my everything......" He kissed your forehead and stay there longer until he pulled away and cuddle you harder against him.

Jake stare at the beautiful moon that brightened the romantic night. He smiled at it and look down to look at you. He patted your hair and closed his eyes still smiling dreamingly.

❤️

💜

❤️

Thank you for reading 🤎

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niksfics · 3 years ago

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↬ WHAT COULD NEVER BE PT. 2

↬ PAIRINGS: Atsumu x f!reader (ft Bokuto)

↬ WARNINGS: sad shit, horrible writing (I feel like I botched this) kagehina mention, cheating, alcohol mention, reversed unrequited love. !! UNEDITED!!

↬ SUMMARY: honorable mention goes to @multi-fandom-fanfic for giving me this idea in the comment section of the first part it’s not exactly years later but it’s still some time later

↬ A/N: I totally did not cry while writing this pft

↬ WC: | 1.5K |

↬ TAG(S): @erinoikawa @fromdelos

“What does she have that I don’t” the amount of times that, that sentence had played over in my head was starting to exhaust me. Remembering the desperation in my voice caused my nose to scrunch up in a cringe until I shook the thoughts out of my head. Walking away from bokuto that night had been the second hardest thing I’d ever had to do in my life so far.

Weeks and weeks later I’d still had the ache in my chest the tears still welled up in my eyes whenever I thought about him with her, but these tears never fell. I hadn’t fully cried over him in weeks and I patted myself on the back for that. I could feel myself starting to move on. To forget.

I still cheered for the MSBY Black Jackals, but I had started online college to get my fashion degree. I’d always had a dream to work for a big corporation like vogue. Things in my life were finally starting to look up, and Miya Atsumu had taken the place that bokuto had left open that night.

He was my support system. Coddling me when he could in the weeks following bokutos wedding. I was unaware of his feelings. Oblivious at first. Until I started to notice the lingering touches he left, and although I was worried about hurting him, it excited me.

— — —

Two years had passed since the night I realized I would never feel my best friends embrace they way I craved. Two years, and now I craved a different persons embrace. The person I’d been dating for a year now, and in the second year of the two years I’d spent healing I’d slowly started mending my friendship with Bokuto. Of course I’d spoken to atsumu about it, and he’d shared his concerns but I was serious about the blonde man who’d unexpectedly stolen my heart.

I had been so caught up in Miya Atsumu it was like highschool all over again. He made me feel alive, and I grounded him when he felt like he was drifting away. The separation from his twin took a harder toll on him than he ever would have realized. So being the loving girlfriend I was I’d organized a night out with the Jackals; Kotaro and koyuki, Kiyoomi, Hinata and kageyama me and Atsumu, and Osamu and his girlfriend. It would be the first time we would all be together since the wedding.

I was nervous and this night would be the start of something out of anyone’s control. It started off normal Osamu and Atsumu hugging and exchanging pleasantries before they would start bickering and trying to compete over something stupid during dinner.

Shy kageyama who had been so stiff at the wedding seemed to be in his element with his arm draped over hinata’s shoulders while he whispered in his ear. The ginger smiling lovingly at his fiancé and it got me thinking about marrying Atsumu. It sparked a tsunami of feeling throughout my body and I found myself smiling to myself before, Cadence —osamu’s stunning girlfriend from the states— bumped my shoulder with hers and smirked at me.

“I’m glad you came up with this idea. Samu was starting to get all pissy about not being able to see his brother.” I smiled sheepishly and blushed as I shook my hand, “it was nothing tsumu was getting the same way and I really wanted to meet you so it was a win win.” She smiled and I caught bokuto looking at me from across the table. The chair next to him empty.

I smiled and leaned across the table, “hey bo! Where’s the missus?” His smile faltered slightly and if I wasn’t so good at reading bokuto I would have missed it entirely but I didn’t, “oh she had to stay late in the office tonight so she couldn’t come.” I gave him a sympathetic smile and he shrugged before the waiter came to our table and I turned to Atsumu.

Later on in the night I had gotten pretty tipsy the champagne finally hitting me, and I smiled lazily at Atsumu, adoration in my eyes and he smirked, “s’the alcohol finally getting to ya pretty girl?” He asked and I nodded before putting my forhead on his upper arm and sighing.

He moves to stand up taking a glass and a knife with him, and my eyes widen in horror over what he’s about to do. He clinks the knife on the glass a bit to carelessly and it breaks, “ah!! tsumu ya moron what the hell are ya doin?” Osamu asks standing up abruptly to avoid the liquid as a waiter rushes over to clean up the mess.

Atsumu smiles and turns to the waiter and apologizes before looking over the table at our friends, “well I just wanted ta toast ta my amazing girlfriend who I would not have if it weren’t for that idiot right there,” I facepalm as he points at bokuto and bokuto winces slightly before looking at me pained and I mouth a sorry to him.

“So thank ya buddy cause if ya weren’t oblivious I would never have gotten such an amazing partner who loves me so much that she brought my annoying little brother out here to see me.” I hear Osamu groan and roll his eyes.

“you’re only three minutes older than me ya troll.” Atsumu smiles patronizingly at osamu, “shut yer trap samu yer elder is talkin'.” Everyone laughs at that and he finally sits down before I hit his shoulder and smile at him slightly, “you’re an idiot tsum-tsum” he shrugs, “but I’m yer idiot right y/n?” And then he plants a big sloppy kiss on my cheek and I squeal in disgust.

The amount of happiness and joy coursing through my body had been missed. I was finally over the one person I thought I would need to live, and with the person I was destined for. I finally had what bokuto had. I couldn’t be happier.

After that night things between me and bokuto were tense for awhile. I brushed it off as he thought maybe I was still hung up on him. Oh how I couldn’t have been more wrong. I had no idea the anger and jealousy that was bubbling up under bokutos skin, and the most frustrating part of all of the bullshit that was going on, was he didn’t understand why he felt like this. He was happily married. I mean as happily married as one person could be right?

It only got worse though when two weeks later Miya fucking Atsumu was calling him asking for his help to propose to his best friend. He was annoyed and irritated and his wife was coming home at two in the morning smelling different than when she had left. It was not a happy time for him, but he obliged telling him about how the beach would be the most perfect place, and to make sure that he does it at night.

He also added in that he should create a pathway lit by fairy lights because I would simply die over it, and how I didn’t like diamonds so make sure it wasn’t a cliche ass diamond.

And that’s how I found myself on the beach my heart had completely broke on, a week later in front of the man I love as he kneeled with a gorgeous jeweled ring in a black velvet box in his hands.

“Will you y/n y/l/n make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” The tears collecting in my eyes were the happiest tears I’d ever cried in my life as I knelt down and hugged him around his neck, “yes yes!! Yes! Of course I will tsumu”

We hadn’t seen bokuto in the distance watching us with tears in his eyes as he realized what he’d lost. As he wished he could go back in time and do it all over. Do things differently.

Maybe he would have let you keep his jacket on in that storage supply closet. Maybe he should have asked you to get boba instead of koyuki, maybe he should have realized sooner he was projecting onto koyuki because he was scared to love his best friend the way he knew you loved him.

So as he stared at the RSVP card in his hands with yours and Atsumu’s names on it in fancy handwriting. He wonders if this is how you felt when you had gotten his card with koyuki, he wonders if you had felt as lost and hopeless, and torn between wanting you to be happy and also wanting you to be with him instead. So as he swallowed the same lump you had swallowed two almost three years ago he realized that this was some kind of sick karma.

He felt partially responsible for the mess that this had become. You and him were never meant to be.

#bokuto #hq angst #bokuto angst #hq bokuto #bokuto fic #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu oneshot #hq oneshots #unrequited feelings #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #atsumu #atsumu fluff #kagehina #miya atsumu

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crowdedimagines · 4 years ago

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Spill It - Harry Styles

an// i literally love the spill your guts concept, but hopefully this is a new take on it! also, this is not going to be chronologically correct to real life, that’s the fun of fiction! also in a world without covid

“I will never understand how you continue to convince people to do this.” I sigh, taking in the table in front of me.

“Let’s take a look at what Y/n here is so fond of.” James teases before giving the table a good spin, showing off all of its contents, “To start we’ve got salmon smoothie, beef tongue, bird saliva, scorpion, fish head, hot sauce, bull penis, and finally, the water beetle. I think you’re both familiar with the rules of this game.”

“I’m sure.” Niall smiles, turning his head towards mine and I nod in agreement.

Niall and I go way back, having been friends for years. We met back in 2013 when I opened for One Direction’s tour. I quickly become close with all of them. One more so than the others. Harry. He and I just clicked, everyone knew it. It took months for us to start dating, afraid that we would ruin the good thing we had, but neither of us wanted to wait anymore. You can’t pass up a connection like that.

“Niall, I will ask you the first question.” James announces, “We’ll go with the salmon smoothie.”

“Oh god.” He mutters.

James lets out a loud laugh and covers his face in shock over the question. He turns it to me so I can catch a glimpse before he reads it out-loud and my jaw drops.

“You might as well drink now, not even hear the question.” I tease, leaning across the table.

“Niall, who is your least favorite member of One Direction?”

Niall’s head drops in defeat, even though he was sure going into this a question like this would be brought up. He just wishes it could’ve been on something a little easier to choke down.

“Drink up, babe.” I smile, a teasing smile crossing my face.

“Fuck.” He shakes his head.

“I can’t… “ He reaches for the glass and throws it back, it takes a few seconds for the sludge to finally shift and he can get a mouthful. A sour look takes over his face as soon as it reaches his taste buds. He quickly leans down to spit it in the bucket.

“That’s horrendous.” He coughs, “It was like a salmon yogurt.”

“Alright Niall, your turn to ask Y/n.”

I smile politely to my friend of many years who takes on a sinister look once he’s read the question.

“Please be nice.” I stick out my bottom lip.

“Right right.” He laughs, spinning the table as he takes in his options.

“Don’t forget I have a very good memory, especially of the years spent on a shared tour bus…” I chaff.

“Don’t remind me.” He settles on the hot sauce, thankfully one of the lesser evil options. I would take this over anything else on the table.

I did crash on their bus more than my own. It started because they were fun, barely older than me, but then when Harry and I started dating we became. Even sharing a bunk as uncomfortable as it was most nights. Those boys grew up with me, and I’m thankful to still be in good contact with all of them.

“You recently welcomed your third god-child into the world when Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid welcomed their daughter to the world.”

“Yes, I did.” I smile at the cheering audience. I have managed to do the impossible in staying close with all of the boys since the hiatus. Well, all but one. Gigi and I met years ago, and I introduced the pair at an award show. The other boys had their reason for making me god mother, but it did give me this monopoly on all of the One Direction children.

“You are actually the god-mother to all three of the One Direction children. Who’s your favorite?”

My jaw drops at the question. Who had the audacity to ask that? To think I could ever answer that about any of my little nieces and nephews. The audience cheers in shock over the question as well.

“You’re joking.” I scoff, “They’re children, I could never pick a favorite!”

“How about your least favorite then?” James teases.

“You lot are all horrendous!”

I grab the shot glass and down the hot sauce immediately. I love all of them way too much to ever pick. I’m sure it’s exactly what they expected with a question like that. It burns for a few seconds and I put the glass back and try to shake it off.

“Nice one!” Niall cheers.

“Now James-” I clear my throat, the hot sauce catching up with me, “Name one guest that you would never invite back to the show.” I bite back a smile and fan my face with the card.

James looks up into the camera as if he actually wants to answer.

“C’mon, you can do it! Just for once.” I grin like a little kid in a candy store, I want him to answer. I want to know, and it would be nice to finally get him to reveal an answer like this.

“Are you trying to get this show canceled?” He turns to one of the producers off screen. He looks between them and the water beetle I’ve placed in front of him. He gives his head one last shake before throwing it down the hatch.

“Niall, it’s your last night on Earth, you can either spend it with your ex girlfriend Ellie Goulding or Selena Gomez?”

He goes back and forth, trying to be polite with his answer before eventually picking Ellie.

“Y/n, who is your favorite member of One Direction?” Niall asks, the smirk growing wider with every word he utters.

The crowd roars, knowing very well of my relationship from a few years ago. One that people still brought up regularly in both Harry and my life due to us remaining friendly.

“What is up with you guys wanting to know my favorites?” I roll my eyes, “Give me something I can actually answer.”

“Fine! I’ll ask you one!” Niall grins, an evil and family glint in his eyes appearing, “What songs have you written about Harry?”

A red hue takes over my face again, only this time it’s not from the hot sauce.

“Either that, or the bird saliva.” He grins, showing off a wide smile. If only we weren’t on national television and I could smack it off.

“It smells like wet dog.” I sigh, I pick it up giving it a whiff before setting it back down on the table, “Could I name one song?”

Niall and James exchange a look before the nod accepting it.

“I wrote the song Everything about him.” I smile. It shouldn’t exactly be a surprise to most people, there were clues. Both of our fans were smart enough to catch on and read between the lines. It was a song I released almost two years ago, the album following our breakup.

It was a powerful song, it quickly became one of the favorites of my fans. It’s also one of the few that I don’t perform. I can’t think of a time I’ve sung that song without crying, it wasn’t meant for the stage. It was meant to be played in your bedroom while you stare at your ceiling. People have always understood that.

“It’s a lovely song.” Niall smiles knowingly.

“Thank you.” I smile, I move on and reach out to ask James his question.

“James, you have been blessed to have both Niall and I on for carpool karaoke.” I smile at Niall, “Which one did you enjoy more?”

I can’t fight off the laughter that takes over. As if it isn’t hard enough to answer questions like these, it’s only upped the ante by having us both here.

“You’re kidding.” He dabs away the sweat on his forehead.

“It’s okay, Niall won’t be that offended.” I reassure and stick out my tongue at Niall.

“You’re an arse.” Niall laughs with the roll of his eyes.

In the middle of Niall and I acting like children bickering, James tears off a bite of the cows tongue without another word.

“Oh god.” I turn away from the unpleasant sight.

“That’s rank.” Niall huffs.

Niall answers his next question from James again, successfully getting away without eating anything.

“Y/n, if the past four years you have gotten into acting. You have made quite a name for yourself on the big screen as well as on the stage.” Niall begins.

“I don’t like where this is going.” I laugh.

“Rank your co-stars from your past films best to worst; Dylan O’Brian, Logan Lerman, and John Boyega.” Niall smacks his knee with a laugh.

“I have been blessed to work with so many talented actors” I start, picking up the terrifying looking bug that has been placed in front of me.

“Mhm.” James agrees with an evil smile on his face.

“So talented, that I could never rank them.” I throw back the scorpion before I can second guess myself. I manage to chew enough of it for it to count before spitting it out as gracefully as I can.

That’s a wrap after that, enough time getting juicy content out of us quite literally either spilling or filling our guts. I give Niall a hug before going back to my dressing room. I couldn’t be more thankful to share the couch tonight with a long time friend.

I drive home, eager to go home and relax. The episode won’t air until later tonight which gives me a couple hours of peace from Twitter. I take a bath and make myself some dinner, before eventually climbing into bed and turning on the TV to watch the episode.

It’s good, fun to watch back. Niall and I make a good pair, easy to read the friendship on camera. In time the episode ends and I turn off the TV and decide to go to bed. It’s been a long day full of press. Before I can actually drift off my phone lighting up and vibrating on my nightstand grabs my attention.

You are my everything too. xx

PART TWO??????

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles

551 notes · View notes

mayabooowrites · 3 years ago

Text

Betrayal///J.P

Summary: Peter betrays you and James, hoping only James would have died.

You walk upstairs and see your husband smiling at the little boy baby fast asleep in the crib "Let him sleep James." You say and James looks over at you and smiles even wider seeing you, you just make him so happy your his amazing beautiful wife

"I know darling but look at his chubby cheeks so cute." James says as he was just so happy, he's been like this since Harry was born and Harry is now one so your wondering if this is gonna go to when Harrys a teen, James saying 'aww look at our fifteen year old sons cheeks so chubby and cute.' And Harry is just sitting there like why is he my dad

Maybe just maybe James will grow out of it before then and not do it when Harry is a teenager "I know he's cute but he needs to sleep ok?" You say and James nods and you drag him out of the room. You both spent most of the night not doing much, but Harry started to cry probably a nightmare

"I got it." James says kissing the top of your head and you smile as he walks upstairs and gets Harry, then walks downstairs and sits beside you on the couch "It's ok you can hangout with mommy and daddy until you fall back to sleep." James says as he rubs Harrys back as he had to get up and get a blanket for Harry, so he handed Harry to you

"Sweetie it's ok it's time to calm down and go to sleep." You say and James came back and wrapped the blanket around Harry as you calmed him down

"Maybe try getting the stuffed puppy Sirius got him, he loves it so maybe that will clam him down James." You say and James nods and thinks where Harry had it last

So James walks around the house trying to find it, he found it in Harrys crib where he put it so Harry could sleep, James just laughs at his absentmindedness 'Man having a kid really makes you forgetful huh?' James thinks as he grabs it and walks downstairs, and then gets Harrys attention "Look it's padfoot." James say and yes Sirius did name it after himself, he wouldn't allow you and James to call it anything different

Harry stopped crying as he looked at James as he tries to get harry laughing, which works and Harry starts laughing then hugs his stuffed animal

"Well I'm glad he's finally stopped crying." You say and James kisses Harrys forehead, then James kisses you and you kiss him back, you love your life so much, you got the best husband ever and the best kid ever and yesterday you found out your pregnant again, which you haven't told James yet you were gonna a different day, and make it special but your done waiting and decided to tell him now "James by the way I found out yesterday I'm pregnant." You say and James was shocked

"Wait really?" He says and you nod your head and James kisses you again and you were so happy, yes it's a bit too early to have another kid but well Harry will have a brother or sister close to his age to hangout with at least.

"I know were already stressed out enough with Harry, but at least he'll have a sibling close to his age to hangout with right?" You say and James nods as he was extremely happy, he just wanted a perfect happy life with you, and that's what he's getting he has you, Harry and now another one on the way best life ever

"I can't wait to tell remus, Sirius and peter about the baby this is amazing." James says as he couldn't wait to raise Harry and another kid with you, your his soulmate and he's so glad he found you and is with you, everyday is a gift for him to be with you and have this amazing life

"Well I was gonna make it more special but I decided who cares." You say and James nods he was just happy to know, he didn't care if it was a special way to tell him, he's just glad he knows that's all

"I love you so much y/n." James says as he caresses your cheek and you smile

"I love you too James." You say but then as James was about to kiss you again, a knock on the door was heard

James and you were confused who was here? And why? No one knows where you both are to protect you both, well expect peter also it was very late so why would peter be here?

But James opens the door holding his wand and sees a disheveled peter, he looked terrified you and James were obviously confused, why is peter here late in the night?

"You weren't followed right?" James asks and peter shakes his head no and James let's him inside the house, as James looks around outside and sees nobody, then walks inside and locks the door behind him "Oh peter hey y/ns pregnant again just wanted to say that, now why are you here?" James says as he seemed so happy and peter nods as he looks at you holding Harry smiling at Harry, you were so happy and peter hated it

"I.....See.......Congrats." Peter says as James wasn't looking, since Harry starting saying baby gibberish, and James looked over peter glares at him and stops when James looks back at peter

"Why are you here?" James says and peter doesn't answer which confused James and you so james asked again and finally peter answers

"I had a bad feeling, and came over to check on you three." Peter says and James nods

"Oh well we're good, you know the four of us." James says smiling at you and you chuckle "Harrys just having a rough night tonight happens, especially after he has a nightmare he doesn't get much sleep then, and well neither do we." James explains and peter nods as he kept looking out the window which you noticed, it was like he was looking for someone or waiting for someone?

Wait was he followed? If he was followed why did he lie and say he wasn't? Also why does he look like a mess? What is going on?

"Peter why are you a mess?" You ask seeing how terrible he looked and he smiled hearing the worry for him in your voice

'Voldemort just needs to kill James that's it I can get y/n out of here, I don't care what happens to Harry but as long as y/n is safe I don't care, y/n is all I care about she's all that matters to me.' Peter thinks and that's why he was here to see to it that James dies and you don't "Sorry I was so worried for you three for the past few days." Peter says and James hugs peter

"Your such an amazing friend peter." James says and peter felt like cringing when James said that, because peter was really only a good friend to you he doesn't care about James at all

'I wish y/n never met James then I'd be with her, I loved her first! So why does James get her? It's no fair.' Peter thinks as he felt so jealous of James he got the life he wants, you as his wife and kids with you, but no James get it like the spoiled brat he is 'James potter getting exactly what he wants, of course he always gets whatever he wants, he has y/n and a perfect life for his perfect self. Like why didn't y/n love me! I was always so nice to her, I was the one who was there for her for so long! But suddenly perfect James Potter comes into the picture and she's so in love with him then! It's no fair!' Peter thinks as he hated James the moment he found out you liked him and James liked you back, Peter was there when you were getting bullied by Slytherins for being a muggleborn but no you go for rich perfect James Potter

"Well do you want anything? Tea?" James asks and peter shakes his head

"I'm good no thanks prongs." Peter says as Harry had finally fallen back to sleep

"He finally fell asleep so please be quiet." You say and James looks over and smiles at Harry, and then he kisses your cheek then goes back to talking to peter who looked angry? Why is he angry

Peter looks out the window then sighed relieved which James looked confused but then the door was broken down, immediately James grabbed a hold of you and his wand

"Y/n get upstairs!" James yells and you were stunned for a second as you looked at the hooded figure

"James we need to leave!" You say and James pushes you upstairs as he held his wand ready to defend you and Harry

"Protect Harry I'll hold him off!" James yells so you could hear him "I LOVE YOU." James yells as well and he heard you tell I love you too be careful

James just looked at peter knowing he betrayed you and him

"I thought you were my friend peter." James says and peter laughs

"The moment you took y/n from me our friendship was gone." Peter says and James was confused he never took you from peter? You both were friends yes, but you both weren't like dating and then he came in and got you both broken up

"She was never yours peter, you were friends, if you had feelings maybe you should have confessed before I did, she wa never yours, she is her own person and can fall in love and be with anyone she wants, she's not an object stop acting like she is!" James says as he was shocked that Voldemort was just letting him and peter talk it out, what did he think they could talk it out before James dies? Well he's not planning on dying

"Once your dead James y/n is mine then." Peter says smiling and James frowns he's not dying, James will see Harry grow up and be able to grow old with you, he will love out the future you both planned together

"She'll never love you peter you betrayed us."

||||||||||

You were holding Harry in your arms tightly as you heard yelling and fighting downstairs, then it stopped after someone yelled the death curse

Then you heard footsteps walking up the stairs and down the hallway to the nursery

"Harry I love you so much, if I don't make this out alive at least you will, Sirius will take good care of you he's a bit immature but you'll be happy, I love you so much and daddy loves you so much too Harry, we'll see you again some day darling." You say as you put a hand where your other child was as tears welled up in your eyes

You lay Harry down in his crib as you look in the doorway and see Voldemort "I won't allow you to kill my son, I'm gonna protect him with my life, I'll die before you touch him." You say and he nods

"Then die." He says as he raises his hand you take a deep breathe. You know your not gonna let him kill your son you'll die before that happens, even if your gonna have to sacrifice the baby in you, as long as the one that's been born stays alive it doesn't matter, Harry is way more important then the baby inside you right now, you'd willing die for Harry anyday, you did wish it could have become it's own person but well that won't happen will it? Your gonna die and if James is still alive then he can protect Harry, but if he's not which you don't believe he is, he'd be here now protecting you if he was, so now Sirius will protect Harry like the good godfather he is, you know Sirius will protect Harry the best he can. And you hope peter rots in hell for betraying you and James

"I love you so much Harry I'm sorry I won't be there for you to watch you grow up, I love you more then anything goodbye my baby." You say as you then hear avada kedavra and then peter yelling don't kill her

|Peters pov|

The dark lord had killed y/n and I fall to the ground crying as I held y/ns lifeless body, no! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! She didn't have to die! She could have lived, I love her and James was dead she would have loved me back I know it, he promised to keep her alive for the potters whereabouts, he lied to me he killed her

I watch as then the dark lord try to kill Harry and it didn't work, I watched as he I guess died as I just held y/ns body close to me crying, I can't handle it she's dead why is she dead, she's supposed to be alive right now. But it seems the only one who survived was Harry, which why did he survive the death curse? Why couldn't y/n have been that lucky to survive it! Why didn't she survive she shouldn't have died!!!!!

I see Harry sitting there saying some baby gibberish but I stopped as he then talked I guess his first word was said

"Momma." Harry says looking at y/n and he kept saying momma over and over, like he knew something was wrong with his mom making me cry even more, she was supposed to stay alive! I did this all so I could be with y/n and Voldemort betrayed me! He killed her! He said he wouldn't kill her! But he did why did he kill her? Because y/n said she'd rather die then let Voldemort touch Harry? Is that why?

'She wasn't supposed to die, she wasn't! She was supposed to live, I betrayed them for nothing but to lose y/n, why did he kill her? He promised! He promised he wouldn't kill her if I say where Harry is so he could kill him, and now I'm stuck with James's last world to me forever in my mind, and y/ns screaming before she died I'm stuck with that as well, y/n won't ever love you because you betrayed us, and I orphaned Harry I'm the reason he won't grow up with parents, and now y/ns dead and it's all my fault I betrayed them, and now there's nothing I can do to bring them back.'

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Text

Night Changes [Five]

Series Masterlist

Summary: Poe and the reader eagerly focus on their friendship. Unfortunately for them, life isn’t that easy.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut, violence, injuries. WC: 11.1K

A/N: Please enjoy this failed attempt at fluff. Also, thank you to @hoeforthefictional for inspiring a scene in this chapter (see: Charlie’s shirts)

Your hand smacked against the cool steel of the dining table as you snorted, “That is not true!” You exclaimed, watching Poe run his hand over his mouth to try and hide his smile, though you could still see him shaking with laughter. “Poe that was Charlie, it was NOT me!”

“Sure Sweetheart,” He drawled through his chuckles, quirking a brow at you, “Charlie convinced your dad that we could all be trusted on our own for the weekend. ‘Cause, he was the one with the big sad eyes your dad fell for every time.”

You groaned, knowing Poe was right, your giggles confirming it to him even though you didn’t outright admit it. “Well you were the one who suggested we try to nab some booze at Eddard’s,” You pointed at him accusingly as memories of you, Charlie and Poe as preteens trying to break into a closed cantina to steal spotchka replayed in your mind. “I was the only one the old man didn’t hit.”

“My ass smarted for a week after that,” Poe frowned at the memory and you giggled again. He grinned over at you, and you felt a flush of delight at the early morning banter, each of you sipping your caf as the golden sun streamed in through the high windows and the room steadily grew busier around you.

It had been a few weeks since your return from the classified mission, the data collected on the outpost proving to be immeasurably useful, earning you both a very pleased smile from the General. A larger secondary team was already there; though they were outfitted with greater protective equipment and a lot more manpower to clear back some of the overgrown jungle from the base and work to bring it back up and running.

While it was a severe break in protocol, neither you nor Poe included the exposure to the red flower pollen in your mission reports. You described the sighting of the plant, cautioned approached and advised the settlement team to wear protective gear, but that was all. Though a mild amount of guilt settled in your stomach for the breach, the idea of writing down what had happened, of being hauled for questioning and medically assessed, was more than enough to make you feel it was the right decision.

It had taken three days to return to base from the mission. Even after your long conversation with Poe assuring him you were alright and that you didn’t blame him for what happened, he still walked around you like he was afraid any moment you would crack and reveal your anger or mistrust. He’d pointedly refused to touch you or come too close after the initial embrace you shared, and although you disagreed with his reasoning, you couldn’t help the relief that you felt because something about being close to him, touching him, stirred feelings inside you that you didn’t want to address.

It made it easier to focus on repairing your friendship if you maintained a slight distance from the man you’d known your entire life. Better to set aside any feelings or thoughts and work to find your way back to the version of yourself you missed. The one who had been happy. You wanted to be her again because the lonely woman you’d become was less than ideal. And you had missed Poe more than you’d admit.

You just wished you could stop the dreams.

“You know,” You spoke slowly, your eyes losing focus as you thought back to those younger years, “I’m pretty sure that was the weekend I became obsessed with learning about Mandalore. I saw that picture of the really famous one up in the cantina and wanted to know everything about it all.” You shook your head at your youthful silliness, the crush you’d developed for the faceless bounty hunter simply from hearing the tales of his heroics. You’d even had a-

“Remember the picture you had?” Poe cut into your thoughts and you refocused on him, “You had that up for years, on the back of your door, a street artist's painting of the rogue Mandolorian, Charlie teased you all the time for having it.” He was smiling at the memory, his eyes crinkling slightly.

You stared at Poe in surprise as warmth swept through you. “You remember that?” He shrugged, his eyes flicking away to glance at the table as if he was suddenly self-conscious, surprised at himself.

“Yeah, I...” You watched as he appeared to steal himself, his cheeks dusted with colour. “I remember everything. It was always us three, wasn’t it? I’d never forget Charlie or y-you.”

When he looked up again his eyes were burning with bright intensity. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, even as your heartbeat tripled and emotion swelled inside you. Everything else-the noise of the caf, the sounds of others laughter and conversations-it all faded into the background as Poe and you regarded one another across the table.

A hand coming down onto your shoulder jolted you from your thoughts. You glanced up to find Temmin grinning at you both as he moved to take a seat next to you. “Morning, morning,” He glanced over mischievously at Poe, then back to you, “Sorry to interrupt your eye-fuck session, just wondering if you saw our surveillance got moved up?”

Poe was quicker to recover, pulling Temmin’s attention from you as heat flooded your face and you gaped wordlessly. “Uh, to now, I’m assuming?” Poe spared you a glance, his eyes unreadable as you swallowed, embarrassed at your reaction.

You’d anticipated those close to you or Poe to tease you both about the renewed friendship, entirely unsurprised that Temmin was the leading comedian about the entire thing. He’d happily jumped on any excuse to tease, but even though you were never one to flinch away from adult banter, the occasional sexually suggestive comments brought you straight back to the memories from your mission and rendered you speechless each time.

Pursing your lips, you took the last sip of your caf and stood up, your hands automatically sweeping down the front of your flight suit to straighten any wrinkles. You tried to give a half-hearted smile, hoping Temmin didn’t start to think you had a shitty sense of humour.

“I’m going to get started on pre-flight, in that case.”

You glanced at Poe and found he was already watching you, his lips quirking up in a way that made your insides bubble confusingly. Before you could turn away, however, Temmin was gently grabbing your forearm.

“Don’t uh, go that way, use the longer route. For your sanity.” He suggested, grimacing as you groaned in frustration.

“Kriff. Thanks, Snap.” You spun and stalked in the opposite direction, your eyes still scanning to ensure that you didn’t accidentally run into Rush despite Temmin’s warning.

The Healer had not taken kindly to your outright disinterest, apparently taking Poe’s interference at the cantina before your mission as a challenge. You felt you had enough on your plate now to justify not telling him point-blank to fuck off. You’d instead found yourself actively avoiding him, going so far as to duck into storage closets to hide, or in the case of two days ago, hide behind the broader frame of your Captain when you’d spotted the Rush walk into the hangar and look around for you.

Temmin had started to goad you after Rush had departed, stopping when he saw the look on your face and you’d resigned yourself to explain the situation. When you’d finished, he’d offered to talk to the Healer for you, suggested the Poe could and would step in as well, but you had been very clear that you didn’t want either of them to deal with your issues and told Temmin in no uncertain terms to keep the situation from Poe. He had been going out of his way in previous weeks to be kind to you. His continued (and entirely unnecessary) attempts to make up for everything that had happened, both on the mission and before. Having him do another favour for you when you had yet to figure out how to give back to Poe, didn’t sit right with you.

So you snuck out of the back of the dining hall and hoped you’d bought yourself more time to figure your shit out.

Earlier that morning

His curls were softer than you’d remembered, you loved sinking your hands into them and gripping. Your head felt so heavy that you felt yourself drop it into his neck, your heart swelling at how right it felt to nuzzle into Poe as he held you.

Fuck, it felt so good to straddle him this way, not just for how close your bodies were, how easily you could kiss him, but because his thick, long cock hit the best spots inside you at this angle. It was bliss, delicious, something you should have been doing for years. You rolled your hips as you came, crying out when he slammed you onto him and held you there as he came undone as well, feeling close to passing out when he cried out for you.

“Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!”

“FUCK!”

You gasped as you woke from your dream, trying to sit up even as your body continued to convulse from your orgasm and small moans tore from you. You gripped the sheets, panting as you floated down from your high, again. Another dream, the same memory replayed over and over every night until you eventually woke up like this, shaking and sweating and cumming.

You sobbed, sitting forward and drawing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself as you dropped your head. This needed to stop and you didn’t understand why it wouldn’t. It had started up the first night you were back on D’Qar, always the same; the memory of those finals moments wrapped around Poe, the last orgasms you each had as the pollen had worn off, and then you’d wake up as you came. You’d tried masturbating before bed just to try and curb the need, but that hadn’t helped in the least. You were desperate now, confused and exhausted from waking up day after day filled with an intense need for something you shouldn’t want.

A good part of you thought your sleeping brain was just cruel, taunting you for what had occurred. But the logical side of your brain noted that it could very well be an aftereffect of the exposure to the pollen, perhaps the last dregs of it working its way from your system when you were most vulnerable. But since you hadn’t reported the exposure, there was no way to find out. It wasn’t like you were going to ask Poe if he was experiencing anything similar-either response he could give was equally as mortifying just to imagine.

Kicking your sheets away, you glanced at your clock and noted the early hour before stalking angrily into your fresher to take a shower. A cold one, because despite the daily orgasms you were waking up from, you were constantly on edge, hornier than you’d been in a long time.

It didn’t help that you were a touch-starved, lonely and unattached woman. Aside from what had happened with Poe on the mission, you hadn’t had sex in a long time and even the last few times you did, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Which was why you’d been almost ready to let Rush take you to bed before, just to feel something pleasurable.

And now...now you wanted to run away from all pleasure.

Poe watched as you hurried out of the room, your shoulders stiff and he frowned when you glanced hastily toward the other doorway before slipping out of view. He looked at Temmin, who was giving him a knowing, guilty kind of smile from across the table. “What the hell was that about?”

Temmin considered his words for a long moment, rapping his knuckles on the table. Finally, he said, “Major hasn’t told you?” As if hoping Poe might suddenly realize what was going on with you and let him off the hook. At the same time, his friend appeared unsurprised of the direction the conversation had gone since your odd departure.

Raising a brow at his friend, Poe leaned forward. “No,” He replied slowly, shaking his head, “Told me what?”

“Let me preface this by telling you she asked me not to make you aware of the situation. Healer Derrin has been cornering her around base every day since you’ve been back, trying to convince her to give him another chance,” Temmin paused as Poe shifted from curious to downright outraged, “Don’t look at me like that, I just found out myself like two days ago.”

“But-I-” Poe stammered, half rising from his seat, “What the fuck has he been doing?”

Temmin waved a hand in a calming manner, “Popping up all over, trying to catch her for a conversation. Only reason I found out was that he came into the hangar the other day and she practically climbed on my back hiding behind me from him.”

Beside himself with fury, Poe took several deep breaths to relax. “Fuck,” He growled, running his hands over his face.

A distant part of his mind wondered why he was so physically worked up, ready to seek out the Healer and lay into him. When he glanced up, Temmin was casting an obvious glance to the time and Poe relented, releasing his anger to focus on the task at hand. “Sorry, thank you for telling me. Let’s go.”

With a curt nod, Temmin jumped to his feet and fell into step with Poe as they made their way to the hangar. It didn’t go unnoticed by Poe that his friend cast a wary eye around, no doubt concerned they would run into Rush and he would be required to break up a fight.

Quietly sighing to himself, Poe rationalized that he could focus on patrol, then return to base and seek out Rush for a civil conversation, nothing more. Flying would calm him, help him to clear his head, and despite your request to keep Poe out of it, he wasn’t about to let you down by allowing some dick head to harass you.

Patrolling the Resistance base was a duty that fell upon every squadron, regardless of status. Poe knew he could probably convince Leia to let Black team off the hook, considering the number of high-status, incredibly dangerous missions she entrusted them with, however he felt it was good for his team to pull their weight when it came to the less exciting tasks.

It was also a good opportunity for some team building, as you all kept your comms open to have idle chit-chat throughout the shift. “Listen, Poe, Tommy was a lot taller than you. You know it, I know it, hell Temmin knows it! He knew Tommy!” You were giggling now, which was the only reason why Poe had continued to argue that Tommy wasn’t all that much taller than him.

“She’s right, Commander.” Temmin supplied with a chuckle.

Kare’s voice joined in, “I’ve never met this Tommy but he sure sounds a lot taller. Did you date him, Major?”

At the question, Poe felt himself stiffen slightly, suddenly extremely curious to hear your response. You didn’t hesitate, “Oh, maker, no. Never.”

“Wow,” Poe chirped with a laugh, “I’m kind offended for Tommy with how passionately you just said that!”

You laughed, “Tommy wasn’t my type, Kare. We were just friends.”

“But he did ask you out,” Temmin suddenly supplied, unknowingly causing Poe to frown. Tommy had asked you out...when? It can’t have been during Gold team days, because then he’d know about it, if not from you then certainly from Charlie, who was close with Tommy. Which meant that you had seen Tommy at some point after you left and spent enough time with him for the handsome pilot to ask you out. Jealously silenced Poe and he opted to listen only.

“Oh,” You sounded surprised that Temmin knew about it, “Yes, well we were stationed together for a while at an outpost a few years ago.” Though your voice had tightened somewhat, Temmin had apparently not picked up on it and continued speaking, teasing you.

“Huh well, Major, from what I heard via our mutual friend Rico, you two had a 'friends with benefits' thing going on during that assignment.”

You laughed in embarrassment, “Fuck off, Temmin.”

Realizing that his silence was both telling and uncalled for, Poe decided to join back in. “What, sweetheart, embarrassed to admit you liked his man-bun?” He joked, happily drawing further laughs from you and the rest of Black team. Inwardly, however, Poe was spinning and he tuned out of the remainder of the conversation as he fell into deep thought.

It was incredibly wonderful having you back. Despite everything that happened during the mission, the resulting change between Poe and you had exponentially increased his overall happiness. It felt, in some ways, like old times. The void that was Charlie was there, ever-present but not always overwhelming, sometimes it was just a hum of grief in the background as you walked next to Poe, your shoulder occasionally brushing his arm, or when you laughed fully and your eyes crinkled the same way Charlie’s had.

And stars, you were funny-Poe had always thought you had a great sense of humour, but the past few years had given you a slightly harsher perspective, something that most Resistance fighters developed in time. It meant your wit was a little drier, your sarcasm in great abundance. He’d laughed more these past few weeks than he had in years, something that didn’t escape Temmin’s notice, his friend often shooting him a knowing wink when you weren’t looking.

Professionally, not a whole lot had changed, though conversation and directives were less chopped, he was proud to know that despite the tension and anger that had been between you before the mission, you had both worked immensely well together.

He had been terrified that you would leave again, despite your assurances on the contrary. He wouldn’t even have blamed you if you had; he remembered everything that happened, the way he’d touched you, the dark bruises and marks he’d littered across your soft skin, and the things he said. The harsh, cruel words still twisted in the back of his mind, surging to the forefront at random to taunt him, force him to relive the way he’d demeaned you. But you hadn’t left, in fact, Poe was pretty certain that the first few days back you had barely left his side just to prove to him that you wouldn’t, and he was grateful for that more than he could tell you.

He was grateful to have you back, to banter and tease, to see your smile brighten the room every day, usually because of something he had said. His old feelings were stirring, never really having faded altogether, but he was eager to push them down again and focus on the friendship. He needed to reign in his jealousy over something that had happened years ago between you and Tommy.

There was no reason good enough to admit how he had felt before Charlie died, and certainly, nothing in the galaxy could convince him to confess to you how he was starting to feel now.

It was better, he thought, to just be friends. Safer.

Earlier that morning

Your skin was soft, delightfully silky and smooth under his rough fingers, and he enjoyed gripping you harder, pulling your hips to his as he filled you, over and over. Your warm body pressed against his as you straddled his lap, your moans weak and head lolling from the pleasure.

The feel of your head falling to his neck, your body curling into him as your orgasm hit.

“Oh Poe, don’t stop!” The way you said his name. How you clenched around him, pulling him to his own peak. The feeling that was coming inside of you, bliss and rightness of the action intensely overwhelming as you shivered in his arms.

With a start, Poe woke up, his dream-induced orgasm ripping from him. He was unable to do more than groan in pleasure, his hips rutting against the mattress as his cum spurted, hands gripping his pillow. Biting his lip, the shame washed over him before he’d fully finished cumming, his groan morphing into a pitiful sound of desperation.

Every fucking day he woke up much the same, his dream-memories of those final moments under the grip of the pollen replaying over and over until he woke up mid-orgasm. He hadn’t had wet dreams since he hit puberty, for Maker’s sake. He thought it must be an aftereffect of the pollen, further proof the intensity and potency of the red flower was beyond anything he’d ever heard of.

Grunting in frustration, Poe climbed out of bed and retrieved a towel to clean up his mess. Turning on the shower, he glanced at the time, happy that he had enough time to rinse off before meeting you for what was becoming a routine morning caf.

He kept the water cold, punishing himself for his dreams and wishing like hell he could erase the images of you, so beautiful and soft around him, from his mind.

It was ideal that the man essentially stalking you was a Healer because it meant that he was relatively easy to track down on base. Healers had long shifts in the med-bay and usually didn’t stray far from base in case something major happened that required additional medical support. Poe was walking to the med bay now, leaving you with Temmin and your funny friend Ana back in the dining hall, to confront Rush.

He’d come up with a simple excuse to step away, stating he required a few essentials from the commissary and wanting to get there before they closed. You were eating slowly tonight and he had taken advantage of that and Ana’s rare presence-something that would keep you in the dining hall much longer, conversation flowing, so that he could slip off to the med-bay.

He’d felt your eyes watching him as he excused himself, burning into the back of his neck as he tried to walk as casually as possible out of the room. As soon as he was clear, he sped up in case you decided to follow him, but a glance over his shoulder before he turned the corner a few minutes later proved he was right that you would linger with Ana instead.

As he walked along the halls, nodding and smiling at anyone he passed, Poe attempted to steady and control his emotions. He would ask Rush to leave you be; be nice but incredibly firm. Advise the healer that it was in his own best interest to keep things professional unless you did indicate you were interested. As he argued with himself on the best way to word the request, Charlie’s image floated around in his head, reminding him that if he was still alive and some dick head was bothering you, he would be the one to calmly protect you. Poe was the less than calm protector, but he needed to channel your brother here because he hoped to prevent you from finding out he’d cornered Rush.

As he approached the final stretch of the hallway that led into the med-bay, a nurse just coming off duty came walking along in the opposite direction. Poe recognized the older woman, brightening when she glanced up and saw him. “Evening, Rosie, how are you?” He flashed her his best grin.

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Rosie calm to a halt in front of Poe, “Good evening Commander, what brings you to our neck of the woods? You don’t look injured unless your big head is giving you a headache.”

This was why Poe liked her, she was the type to catch on to bullshit and funny as hell. He couldn’t help his bark of a laugh, “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at lugging it around,” He replied, “Listen, can I ask you a quick question before you head off for a night of dancing with a lucky guy?”

“Lucky lady,” She corrected with a wink, and Poe smiled apologetically with a nod, “And go ahead, what’s up?”

“Right, my mistake, although now that I think of it I don’t think any of us men could survive your charms,” He joked, pulling a laugh from the deadpan nurse, “I’m looking for Healer Derrin, do you happen to know where I could find him?”

Something close to a knowing look flashed in her eyes then, but Rosie didn’t comment. “His shift just ended, actually. He left for the hangar roughly, oh, ten minutes ago.” She glanced at her wrist comm for the time, nodding to herself at her estimation.

Poe frowned, realizing that it was routine for you to have left dinner already to go to the hangar to input your mission report for the day and perform your check of his and your own ships. Because you were dining with Ana, however, you hadn’t left yet. “Thank you, Rosie.” He gently clasped her shoulder as she smiled at him with that look still in her eyes, but she merely bid him farewell before he spun around a hurried away, taking the quickest route to the hangar.

When he arrived, the hangar was fairly quiet, only a few lingering mechanics wandering about, several service droids cleaning the large space and performing nighttime checks. Still wearing his medical clothing, Rush was easy to spot as he stood near your ship across the room, eyes staring off at nothing as he waited to see if you’d turn up.

When he heard Poe’s footsteps approaching, he turned with a hopeful look before spotting him and shifting to a placating smile. “Evening, Commander!”

Poe stopped a few feet short Rush and tried his best to return the smile, “Healer,” His voice was clipped, and he took a careful breath in an attempt to keep calm and channel Charlie. Friendly, to the point, no need to get worked up. “What brings you here so late?”

Rush shrugged, “Hoping to catch the little bird that keeps flying off,” He admitted, gesturing at your ship, “Can’t seem to get any face-to-face time with her, but I’m hoping to clear things up and start fresh. Think I moved too quickly before.”

Poe plastered his face with a neutral expression as his insides burned upon hearing Rush refer to you as ‘little bird’. “Listen, man, I’ve known (y/n) my whole life and I don’t think she’s interested, I mean, it’s been weeks since your date and she’s been avoiding you since.” Poe kept his voice as steady as possible, not wanting his tone to convey anything other than mild interest.

Rush bristled immediately, however, “That your objective opinion, Dameron?”

His voice was pointedly not steady and his tone was anything but mild. Still, Poe held up his hands in a placating gesture, “It is, and it’s kind of...uh, obvious, I guess.”

Poe watched as Rush took a measured step closer to him, though this didn’t serve to intimidate as the Healer stood an easy couple of inches shorter than him. “You’re full of shit. You’re telling me this because you want to fuck her,” He glared up at Poe, who was frowning as he fought his internal battle to remain calm. “Actually, noticed you two are buddy-buddy all of a sudden; so that’s it, isn’t it? You went off together for nearly two weeks and she spread her pretty legs for you-“

Well, no one could say Poe didn’t try. His fist was connecting with Rush’s smug face before the Healer could continue his vulgar accusation, falling back a few steps before regaining his balance and shooting a glare that did nothing to intimidate Poe.

Forcing himself not to move in for another punch, Poe pointed his finger at Rush, “Shut the fuck up, asshole. I never want to hear you talk about her that way again, got it?”

Rush scoffed, his hand rubbing along his reddening jaw, “You’re only proving me right, reacting like that. Either you want her so you’re trying to prevent me from having a chance, or you already had her,” The Healer was seething mad, clearly not thinking straight. He didn’t seem to see the tension rolling over Poe’s body, anger coiling within and ready to burst forth in more than just a single punch. Or maybe a handsome guy like Rush Derrin couldn’t stand the idea of having a competitor, as he seemed to view Poe, and it clouded his usual ‘nice guy’ personality entirely, made him mean, made him say things that he really, really shouldn’t. “Tell me, what is she like when you’re balls deep-does she moan as loud as I-“

This time, Poe didn’t hold his anger back into a single punch, he opted instead to launch himself at Rush, whose eyes flashed in fear just before he was taken to the ground. Fistfights weren’t something that Poe usually got himself into anymore, though he’d had more than his share growing up. He held himself to higher standards now, especially considering his high rank within the Resistance, the respect he had from his fellow fighters.

All of that was out the window though as he wrestled on the hangar floor with Rush, who gave a yell of anger as he tried to out fist Poe. He was strong, a decent enough match physically despite being shorter than Poe, who twisted his hips to roll Rush in a flurry of movement, eager not to end up bested by being pinned under the man. He did feel the punches he gained in return, particularly a stinging blow to his cheek that seemed to hit directly on the apple, skin splitting on contact. Rush was wasting energy on cursing and yelling insults, most of which didn’t register with Poe as blood rushed loudly in his ears, rage only intensifying.

It was only a few moments of fighting at this point, not long enough for anyone who had been on the other side of the hangar to have made it over already to break them up. This was why Poe stiffened in complete surprise when he saw a figure approaching quickly in his peripheral vision, which distracted him just enough for Rush to take advantage and roll heavily, slamming Poe into the floor. He felt his head hit the concrete, though it wasn’t too hard of a blow it was disorienting. Before he could even begin to attempt to get Rush off of him, however, the figure that had first distracted him now came directly into view over Poe.

It was you.

But you weren’t yelling for them to stop like he would have imagined you would do. Instead, from his vantage on the ground, Poe witnessed your fury first hand, so much more intense than he’d seen in years. But the night of Charlie’s funeral that fury had been lined with grief and heartbreak. Now, you looked shockingly terrifying as you swiftly launched yourself at Rush, tackling him off of Poe in one motion before rolling with ease and jumping back to your feet.

When you pointed your blaster down at the Healer, who lay flat on his back in complete shock, even Poe flinched at the look on your face.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” You hissed, your voice cold and low. There were a few people nearby, all who’d frozen upon seeing the Major asserting her authority over the lower level Healer. Though he partially flushed with pride and equal parts surprise, Poe was quick to scramble to his feet and hurry to your side. “I forbid you to enter this hangar again unless it’s for medical purposes, got it?”

Poe could see that your finger wasn’t on the trigger of your blaster, the safety clicked on still. All the same, your reaction was completely out of character and he wanted to stop that cold, harsh look on your face in its tracks, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Sweetheart,” He murmured, quiet enough that only Rush could discern his words, “Let’s take a walk, let Healer Derrin go and lick his wounds.”

The moment you dropped the blaster, Rush was on his feet and hurrying out of the hangar, blissfully silent, entirely amusing. Poe glanced around to the others nearby and gave a friendly nod of release, and they broke away to finish their work. Placing a hand carefully on your lower back, he put a slight pressure and started to walk, relieved when you complied and holstered your blaster.

Though he’d suggested the walk, you seemed to take control of the direction and somehow Poe found himself stepping through the door of your room minutes later. He barely had a moment to glance around at the minimally decorated space, his eyes again finding your pinned copy of his favourite photo on the corkboard, before you rounded on him.

You weren’t as furious as you had been before, but he still took a measured step away from under the heat of your gaze, flinching as he waited for you to begin yelling at him for interfering in your life, for embarrassing you, bracing himself for your wrath.

Instead, your angry gaze met his own and you faltered, your eyes flicking over his face and Poe watched the anger melt away, your expression softening into concern. “Oh, Poe,” You sighed, closing the distance between you both to reach up and carefully grab his jaw with one hand, turning his head to peer up at the cheek he’d taken the worst punch to, “Are you alright?”

You dropped your hand, not completely as he would have expected but to rest on his chest, just over his heart. Poe felt himself stiffen again, the casual way you touched him driving him almost into a frenzy of confusion and hope and fear.

“I’m fine, I can take a punch,” He grinned, cringing when his cheek stung from the movement. “Might need to pop a bacta-patch over this, though.” He reached up and carefully prodded the split skin, hissing at the pain.

You stepped away, tugging Poe by the arm, “Sit,” You ordered, pushing him toward your bed. He perched himself on the edge and watched as you went to the med-kit you kept in your fresher to pull out bacta-patches. “I knew you weren’t going to the commissary.” You added when you walked back toward Poe, grabbing your desk chair and setting it in front of him before taking a seat.

“In my defence, I was being nice at first,” Poe said as you wiped away the blood on his face before gently placing the patch, your eyes focused on your work. “He uh, turned out to be a bit more hot-headed than I’d have thought.”

You snorted, “I came in too late to know who hit who first, but you don’t need to defend yourself,” Picking up another wipe, you cleaned around the patch and some spots along the rest of his face that must have had blood splatter. “I made Temmin tell me if he told you about Rush. I know you were fighting with him because of me. And that’s...that’s why I hadn't mentioned it, actually.”

Poe stared at you for a beat, “What do you mean?”

“I just,” You sighed, your eyes searching his face before you tossed the wipe in the trash and you sat back in your seat. He already missed the feel of your hands on his skin. “I knew you would want to talk to him, and that could lead to a fistfight or whatever on my behalf, and I didn’t want you to put yourself in that position just for me.”

“Just for you?” Poe repeated in surprise, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, to look at you closely, “Sweetheart, come on, you know I’d do anything for you.”

You nodded, but Poe wondered if you understood how serious he was, how he wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t question. Or maybe you did understand and that was why you looked slightly afraid, your face flushed as Poe gazed at you intently.

“Poe, you’ve been going out of your way for me since we’ve been back. You know it’s all...we’re good, I trust you,” You leaned forward, your face mere inches from Poe’s, and took his hands into yours, “So you don’t need to keep proving yourself, I promise.”

Poe felt himself nodding as he looked at you, gazed into your bright eyes and saw the sincerity in them, the emotion. He was still, afraid to move now that there was nothing between either of you, fully aware that you were alone together in a locked room and nothing could interrupt you. He felt himself blush, heat crawling up his neck, and Poe wanted to lean away and clear his throat and push back everything he was feeling but you were making it too difficult, sitting there with wide eyes and plump lips and a look so earnest, so trusting that he was transported straight back to the first time he’d wanted to kiss you.

But the thing was, he was a skinny teenager back then, and it had been easy to talk himself back and resist the urge because of Charlie. Because he didn’t want to offend you. Because your mom was just down the hall and could walk in at any moment.

But here, Poe wasn’t a teenager anymore, and for that matter neither were you. No, you were both fully grown adults, a fact he was keenly aware of as his eyes moved from yours, slowly, and he saw the way your lips were parted, the flush up your neck, the way your chest was heaving slightly.

He’d never wanted to be braver in his entire life.

Just as he thought of closing the gap, though, an image surfaced. The memory of you, trembling on the table after the pollen had worn off, just before he could give you the bacta shot, your body littered with marks he’d put there, the marks that were in the nightmares he kept having. Bile rose in his throat and he was sure you sensed the shift then because you were pulling away even before Poe broke the connection of your gazes and eased his hands from your grasp.

It was quiet for a minute, each of you looking determinedly away from the other. You stood, and Poe glanced up, fearing you were going to ask him to leave. You had a thoughtful look on your face, however, and moved over to your dresser instead. He watched as you opened the lowest drawer, flipping through the contents.

“I realized the other day that you didn’t have any of Charlie’s clothing because of course, I’d taken it all,” You straightened, turning around with a small stack of shirts clutched in your hands, “But I shouldn’t have done that, so here, take these.” And you held the stack out to him, biting your lip as you did.

Poe’s heart stuttered in his chest and he had to blink a few times to clear the sting of tears threatening the corners of his eyes. “These were...Charlies’?” You nodded, your eyes swimming with similar emotion. He took them from you and looked down at the familiar, worn fabric in a variety of colours, each shirt soft and well cared for. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to say.”

He stood up, gripping the clothes in one hand before carefully reaching out and wrapping his arm around your head, pulling you close and kissing your hair. You were stiff in his arms, but he felt you patting his mid-back. “You don’t have to say anything, flyboy.”

—

It was very rare that you found yourself in your current position, crouched outside of Poe Dameron’s window late at night, grateful that his father slept on the lower floor of their home because he found it cooler. And even though you knew Mr. Dameron wouldn’t be mad if he found you sneaking into his son’s room, because you and Poe were together most of the time anyway since forever, you didn’t want him to interrupt your attempt to apologize to your friend.

You carefully slid the window open, your eyes attempting to adjust to the darkened room within but there was no light this evening, even the stars were hidden by clouds that threatened rain you knew wouldn’t come for another day at least. You were gazing in the direction of where you knew his bed was, so when hands shot out to grab you from almost right in front of you, you couldn’t help the squeak you let out, still desperate to be quiet, before promptly falling backwards. You wondered if you were about to break your arm again, and it had only just healed the month before. Kriff.

Thankfully Poe had already grabbed your waist, his hands gripping tighter when you lost your balance before he pulled you through his window with a grunt, both of you tumbling down due to the force he’d used to ensure you didn’t fall. Landing clumsily on top of him with a thud, you both froze in the dark, listening for any sounds from downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, heart pounding in your ears, wishing you could at least see Poe’s face but it was too dark, you could only make out the faint outline of him. You could tell he was looking up at you, but that was about it. Feeling confident Mr. Dameron was still fast asleep, you shuffled off of Poe, only his hands were still gripping your waist, so you ended up kneeling right next to him.

“Poe?” You whispered, moving a hand down to pat the back of one of his, “I think we’re good-sorry, I wanted to-“

Poe’s angry sigh halted your words in their tracks, and you felt his fingers flex before he released you and moved away. After a pause, light from a small lamp bathed the room in a low, golden glow and your best friend came into view, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I heard your apology the first time, (y/n),” He hissed, and you hated the way he said your name, that he even said it at all when you were used to him only referring to you as ‘sweetheart’. “Breaking in to say it again doesn’t really-“

You had climbed to your feet, dusting off your knees before glaring up at Poe, “Fine, I won’t apologize again. But I’m not leaving until you talk to me, tell me how I can fix this.”

Poe ran a hand wearily over his face, not meeting your eyes. Guilt and shame and sadness were all that you felt these past several days as Poe actively avoided you, refused to even look at you, because of what you’d said. And you hadn’t meant it, you really didn’t, it just slipped out in a moment of heated disagreement and you wished you could eat the words back up before you’d fully finished speaking. The look he’d given you...

“I don’t know, I just need some time,” He grumbled, still not looking at you. You took a half step closer, hoping to draw his gaze. Disappointed when he only frowned harder and kept his eyes on the wall. “I know you’re sorry, but you still fucking said it.”

“And I have no excuse for it, Poe, I was out of line. I was angry and I wanted to just...”

“You wanted to hurt me.” He finished, and you were shaking your head violently because that wasn’t it, it really wasn’t.

“No, no that’s not why,” You breathed, tears threatening but you swallowed them back, blinking, “You’ve just been so weird lately, and you wouldn’t tell me why so I lost myself and wanted a...a reaction, something, from you.”

Poe’s eyes locked on yours then and you felt yourself shrink inward at the coldness within them, “You said my mother would be ashamed of me. Out loud, to my face. Because I wasn’t explaining why I’ve been moody-which by the way, if you thought about it you’d fucking realize why-so that was your solution?”

His voice had raised only a fraction, a whisper yell in the dim room, yet he might as well have been screaming at you. You deserved for him to rage and yell because you had said that. In a stupid, selfish moment, after weeks of odd behaviour from Poe and another fruitless attempt to ask him what was going on, you’d said his mother would be ashamed of him for shutting you out. You hated yourself for saying it.

You grappled with yourself, struggling to find words and Poe jumped on your silence to continue speaking. “I forget sometimes that you’re just a kid, a silly, spoiled little girl who gets her way all the time,” His words cut through the air like little knives, driving straight into your chest, “But in the real world, when you say mean shit like that you can’t always just bat your pretty lashes and say you’re sorry. Words have consequences, you fucking brat.”

You bristled, despite having known when you decided to come here tonight and beg for forgiveness that he might lash out, you weren’t prepared for Poe to talk down to you like this. Little girl. Spoiled. Brat. Was that really how he saw you?

Was he really going to leave to join the Resistance and you’d never see him again?

“Fuck you,” You gasped, pain lancing your heart as you glared up at your best friend, “You don’t talk to me like that, Poe Dameron. I said a shitty, horrible thing to you and I didn’t mean it and I’ve been trying to apologize, that doesn’t give you the right to speak to me like this. You’re calling me the kid when you-you’re acting like an angry little boy?”

Poe dropped his crossed arms, his mouth opening in fury as he stepped toward you, and you were ready for the fight, for the words to start flowing between you both as whatever the fuck was going on lately seemed to bubble up and over. But the dim lighting of the room left a lot of shadows and darkness, and his sudden movement toward you startled you. You couldn’t help it, you flinched, visibly and almost bone jarringly. You flinched away from Poe, one hand half raising in front of yourself defensively.

And the fight in Poe, that fire and passion, it was out in an instant. Like you had flipped a switch and all the power was sucked from the room. For a moment, he stood frozen in mid-motion, gaping at you as you straightened from your defensive stance, and you shook your head to organize your thoughts, wanting to just apologize again and leave. But he was looking at you so intensely now that you felt like you couldn’t move; like he’d pinned you with his horrified expression.

“Are you-?” His voice almost broke, and he didn’t try to clear it, merely lowered the pitch, “Are you scared of me?”

You wanted to shake your head, but your brain was still processing the shocked look he was giving you, the colour rising to his cheeks as emotion seemed to overwhelm him. Poe looked utterly wrecked at that moment, and even though you knew he needed to hear you speak, to assure him that of course, you weren’t scared of him, the sudden movement and looming shadow on the wall had simply caught you off guard, you couldn’t bring yourself to fucking speak.

“Sweetheart, fuck, I’m so sorry, please don’t be afraid,” He gasped out, holding up both hands slowly, palms facing you, “I would never-shit, sweet, beautiful girl, please don’t be afraid of me, please I’m sorry, I’m so so-“

You cut him off as he started to nearly sob, convinced you were scared of him, that you thought he might hurt you. “Poe, no, I’m not scared!” Regaining the use of your brain, you stumbled forward and threw yourself against Poe’s chest, gripping the soft tee he’d worn to bed, your face pressed over his heart. “I was just startled, I’m not scared of you, I could never be scared of you.”

You could hear his heart hammering away in his chest, feel how tense he was, his hands hovering in the air behind you. His voice was so quiet when he spoke that if you hadn’t had your head so close against him, you wouldn’t have heard.

“I would never hurt you, fuck, I wouldn’t try to intimidate you. I’m sorry I was going to stand closer so I-I could yell without waking dad up, so stupid...” The sob that had been threatening him tore out, crushing your heart a little.

He was ridiculous because you’d know him your whole life and you knew he wasn’t the type of man to physically harm or scare anyone. Sure, he’d been in his share of fistfights, but even you knew he was usually throwing a punch in response, and these last few months he’d been relatively cool-headed, a sign of his maturity.

You pressed your body closer to his before lifting your head to look up at him. Poe was still not touching you, and he was looking across the room unseeingly as he blinked back tears, his expression tense and upset. With slow movements, you reached up to stroke along his jaw, your hand pausing when you first touched him, your heart rate picking up a little when his eyes closed at your touch. You stroked more than the usual three times, repeating the action until his body relaxed against yours, continuing until his hands tentatively moved, one settling on your waist and the other raising to cup your face.

You stood like that for a long moment, your fingers still trailing the familiar path of his stubble, drinking in the way his expression, eyes still closed, softened for you.

“I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me, Poe,” You whispered, “That’s why I’m fucking wrecked that I hurt you. If you don’t want to see me anymore...I understand, I crossed the line like an idiot. Our friendship has always been the most important thing to me and I overstepped and I’m sorry, you’re right that I’m just a stupid little-“

“Stop,” Though it was low, whispered into the room, the command behind the word was enough to silence you and you gazed at Poe in surprise. He looked at you then, and you delighted at the expression he had, so filled with love and care. “I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it. I saw your face right as you said it...we just, we both got too worked up. We keep doing that, I think because we know Charlie and I leave in less than a year.”

You nodded in agreement, the small movement making you suddenly very aware of how tightly pressed against Poe you were. He was still holding your face gently, but the hand on your waist was gripping you in a way the suggested he felt the proximity as well. You took a shuddering breath, “I love you, Poe. I’m sorry.”

He dropped his head to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering half shut, and the weirdest thought suddenly cropped up in your head. The most absurd notion that you could easily tilt your head and press your lips to his. You remained still, but couldn’t help but stare at his soft lips as he spoke.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” The hand on your waist clutched you closer, which you hadn't thought was possible, “And I promise I would never hurt you, never lay a finger on you or say something awful that I meant, never. Nothing could ever, ever make me hurt you, sweet, lovely girl.”

You closed your eyes, unable to trust yourself to resist kissing him when he spoke to you like that, his words coated in the deep, suddenly husky tone of voice. And you couldn’t rid those thoughts as he led you over to his bed and you cuddled against him, ready to sleep but your heart thrumming away as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him, your Poe.

What would it be like to be with him, to touch him, to-and you really blushed now, grateful he’d shut the light back off and his light snores were filling the room-feel him hard for you...you’d never been with a guy before, not like that. You’d had some steamy make-out sessions, groped and fondled with cute guys...but the idea of your Poe coming undone for you...

Well, that was suddenly an idea that you were completely unaware would have such an intense impact on you. You let the images play out in your mind for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing them back and down, convincing yourself it was just a reaction to the adrenaline, the high emotions. Poe’s grip on you tightened in his sleep, and you snuggled closer to lay your head over his heart and listen to the steady beat.

—

Word travelled quickly around base that Rush Derrin had been beaten up by a pilot; the surprising thing was, at least to you, that the pilot in question was you and not Poe. Apparently, Poe scrapping on the floor with Rush wasn’t nearly as interesting or exciting as the story of how you’d tackled Rush, moved to your feet and drawn your blaster on him in one swift motion.

You had grown used to the quiet greetings over the months you’d been on D’Qar, and enjoyed the last few weeks of friendlier hello’s that cropped up in response to your rekindled friendship with Poe, but the tale of your no-nonsense, ego stripping attack on the rude Healer seemed to blast you into the same orbit Poe had been in as the ever-popular poster boy for the Resistance.

Everyone said hello, no matter where you went or the time of day. Ana sought you out the afternoon after to tell you that all the mechanics were raving about how they thought you were snobbish, and now realized you were, in fact, a silent badass. As embarrassing as it all was, it was nothing compared to Poe’s response to your new status.

He was insatiable, eagerly and proudly telling anyone who would listen-and it seemed everyone did want to listen-his first-hand account of watching you tackle Rush. Of how you’d coldly told him off as you followed your professional directive-protect your Commander, no matter the threat. Your shoulders were starting to ache from the number of times he’d clapped his hands over them, rooting you to the spot so that you couldn’t escape the latest admirers, gripping you because he really was proud, really meant everything he said.

“Okay, seriously,” You breathed when you finally broke free from a group of younger pilots, Poe laughing at your side in amusement at your reaction. “Commander, I may have protected you but I can just as easily go ahead and kick you in the-"

“Ah, come on now sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that,” He laughed, a playful arm dropping around your shoulder. Your insides had started reacting to every single touch, lingering or not, that Poe gave you. Which had been happening a lot lately. And it didn’t help matter that he’d look at you the night of his fight with Rush like you had told him you’d hung the moon just for him. You couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d gazed at you as you sat frozen, inches away.

“Don’t be so sure,” You grumbled, allowing him to lead you to the hangar, “I now have to hope that if either of us gets seriously injured Rush isn’t the Healer on call, because I doubt he’d be much help now.” You noticed then that even though you were still passing people, and those people were smiling at you, no one had stopped you or spoken to either you or Poe.

Confused, you frowned up at Poe, intending to ask him, but the words died on your tongue.

No one was stopping you because they didn’t want to interrupt Commander Dameron and Major Horn, happily wrapped around each other, looking exactly like a love-struck couple. You were sure that a previous version of yourself, the one who existed years and years ago, would have quickly sprung out of Poe’s reach and laughed awkwardly, made an excuse to run to the fresher. Instead, a feeling grew inside of you that felt a lot like...

Possession. But that wasn’t right, was it?

Poe wasn’t yours, not like that. It was almost like there were two parts of you reacting to the increasing touches; the part that enjoyed the familiarity of his affection, and a part that starved for more and grew hungrier every time it was fed. It made it hard, impossible even, to sort through your real feelings for Poe. Because you did love him, you did feel yourself flush at the idea that others were viewing you as a couple, and yet...the path of your thoughts seemed to reroute itself constantly, focusing on the physical and craving more of it.

Maybe this was your problem before, you couldn’t admit to yourself how you felt toward Poe and it ended up being twisted up until Charlie died. You’d admitted to yourself that the biggest reason you’d fled was that you had realized, all those years ago, that you were in love with Poe. Was that what this was now? Old feelings slamming back home with startling intensity?

Then why could you only focus on his hands on you, if that was the case?

He’d noticed you’d gone quiet and came to a sudden halt in the empty hall, glancing down at you curiously, his eyes darker than normal. You felt his arm hold you a little tighter, the hand on your shoulder gripping almost too hard.

It felt really good.

Fuck, what the fuck.

“Sweetheart?” He searched your face, brows pinching in confusion.

Feeling a little dazed, you shook your head to clear your mind, keenly aware that there was no space between your bodies, that you could press up against him easily. And you were warm, actually. Really, really warm.

“Sorry,” You murmured, forcing yourself to give him a placating little grin, “Just...a little overwhelmed, I think.” You admitted, conceding a partial truth that you knew would suffice.

Instantly, his expression softened and he was backing up, pulling you with him until he was leaning against the wall. He spread his feet apart and pulled you to stand between them, his hands moving to cup your face gently as he looked down at you with kind eyes. You think you stopped breathing. You think he did too. He seemed surprised at his actions.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been teasing you for days,” He sighed after a pause, one thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek. You were going to combust or pass out, or maybe just evaporate on the spot. “Good news is, I’m pretty sure the General has another mission that’ll take us out of this parsec for a day or two. Should give everyone enough time to move on.” His other hand moved from your face to brush back a few stray hairs, his eyes following the movement hungrily. They were darker still.

There was a familiarity in that darkness.

“That-that’s uh, good,” You stammered, your eyes moving everywhere except to meet his. You were afraid of what he’d see if he looked directly at you. Of what you’d see...but you didn’t understand why you were afraid.

You just got Poe back, you weren’t fucking this up. Get it together, get it together, breathe...

“I know I don’t need to ask,” His voice was low, the timbre shooting straight to your core, “But are you okay to fly, because you seem a little out of it.” His voice sounded wrecked, like it was painful to be speaking.

You nodded hastily, pressing your hands into his abdomen for some unknown reason. You could feel the muscle under his shirt, hell you could remember what it felt like to touch those muscles, to drag your tongue along the surprisingly soft skin, before...before...

Oh fuck.

You think you realized what was happening a moment before it was too late to react, your brain opting to shut down as pleasure ripped through your body with a ferocity that knocked you clean over. With a shuddering moan, you collapsed into Poe as your orgasm rocked through you, unable to speak now as wave after wave turned you into a whimpering mess. He caught you, his face confused even as he unknowingly rutted his hips against you and started trembling.

“What-?” He got a good look at your face then and realization dawned, his expression twisting in horror. “Oh shit, shit,” He groaned, clutching you harder against him and you heard him breathe out your name, equal parts fear and desire colouring his tone before he sunk to his knees, bringing you down with him, and his body stilled.

His orgasm tore through him just as violently, the only thing he could think to do was nuzzle his head into your neck and hide his face as he came. You were limp, your body jerking and convulsing as the high never ended, it seemed to hold at its peak and just drag you along for the ride, unwillingly. In the very back of your mind, you recognized that what was happening was, undoubtedly, an aftereffect to the pollen you’d been exposed to weeks prior. The nightly dreams, subsequent orgasms, the way fire licked up your spine at every touch from Poe...it made sense, and if you weren’t currently trying to keep yourself and Poe quiet as you each came, you’d probably be feeling like a first-class idiot for not reporting the exposure.

“Fuck,” You whimpered pitifully, clinging to Poe for life. You felt another hand on your shoulder suddenly and registered a voice saying your name. It took a few moments to find enough clarity to look up, blinking through the haze to find Temmin standing over you both, his expression frantic with concern.

“Major, (y/n), tell me what’s happening, talk to me here!”

“T-Temmin...we, we were exposed on our, shit,” You had to pause as your orgasm seemed to notch up another level, dropping your head to hide your face against Poe’s. “Mission. Red fertility plant, help, oh maker please help!” You cried out, the burning and heat threatening to undo you completely, no longer overwhelmed with lust but now a high that seemed too far for humans, your heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to break out, run away from you and abandon your trembling body as you burned.

You slumped over, distantly aware of Temmin roaring for medics, but determined to bring your focus to Poe, who was now holding you too tightly. You realized he was speaking into your neck, and you had to tilt your head awkwardly to hear. Your vision was narrowing now, but you could hear him perfectly.

“I can’t hurt you again, don’t let me hurt her, please make it stop.” He repeated this plea over and over, and it was the only thing you could hear as your eyes began to close, as other hands were on you, pulling him away and you fought to keep him close until the heat became too much and a sudden stinging cool hit your arm and you were falling, down and into an unknown abyss, your last thoughts swirling in your head louder than any voice around you.

‘Don’t let me hurt him again, please don’t let me hurt Poe again...’

—

Temmin paced the med-bay waiting area frantically, waiting for an update from the Healers on both the Commander and Major’s statuses. He’d been leaving the hangar when he found them in the hallway, clinging to one another as they seemed to convulse with pain, and it had fucking terrified him. It had made some sense when you’d be able to gasp out an explanation that you’d each been exposed to a fertility plant during your mission. But he didn’t have any room to be embarrassed that you were both essentially having orgasms in front of him because you looked so scared and confused and Poe’s words were stuck in his brain now.

“Please don’t let me hurt her again, make it stop, I can’t hurt her, she’s everything to me, please make it stop...”

While he knew he was a less emotional sort of man, Temmin wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Poe and you were soulmates who’d been through some seriously dark shit. That you just needed to work through it all to find your way back to one another. And apparently, you had started the process-finally-during your classified mission. He had been overjoyed at the change in your interactions with one another, that you seemed to be friends again, at least.

But he’d also noticed the weird reactions you both had to some of his more inappropriate teasing, seen how you would both flush and change the subject and he thought at first that maybe you had started dating again, only something seemed off. You had become increasingly more wound up over the weeks, and Poe had appeared to turn inward more and more, as though his thoughts were so intense he was trying to conceal them with every fibre of his being from everyone.

You had only mentioned a suspicious plant in your reports from your mission. It had been with dawning horror, as he screamed for Healers, that Temmin understood you’d mentioned the flowers because you’d been exposed. That whatever had happened upon exposure had been so bad that neither you nor Poe wanted to include it in your reports.

“Captain?” A Healer came out from the back, a soothing expression on her face that told him you at least weren’t dead.

He hurried forward nonetheless, “Maker, Healer Brooks, please tell me they’re going to be alright!”

Did you enjoy this chapter? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Thank you 🤍

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin @alex-sulli

#reader insert #poe dameron x reader #night changes series #fanfic #angst #fluff #poe dameron #multichapter #friends to lovers #star wars #poe x reader #oscar isaac #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x female reader #poe smut

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pandaluc · 3 years ago

Text

Fated To Be Apart; Together By Heart

Pairing: Zhongli x g!n Reader

Genre: fluff, hurt with no comfort

Warnings: mentions of war, death. slight mention of blood and corpse, grammar and spelling mistakes.

Zhongli was a man of composure, sincerity and wisdom. Yes, he often forgets about mora, but his personality is not all that. In fact, he was a loving man. A reason why you had fallen in love with him. He had so many experiences, and you admire him for that. One of his many experiences is death. He had lost so many loved ones, to the point where whenever he meets someone, he will always tell himself to prepare for their death. Because of his years of living, he got used with deaths... but do you think that such will be applied to everyone? Or maybe he secretly prays to the celestial gods to protect and save a particular someone from death? Will the celestial gods hear him?

You and the traveller were friends ever since the two of you talked to each other in Mondstadt. A reason why you were friends is because the both of you are travellers, seeking the same thing - to know more about this unknown god. Ever since the two of you knew this similarity to each other, you would travel Teyvat together. You both were like duos - you would plan things out while they act these plan out..and well Paimon would be the source of your mental strength, cheering the both of you up if times get rough. Alas, you and the traveller reached Liyue, and met this man named Zhongli. Just a day being with him made you look up to him so much. From his words to his beliefs, you. admired them. Even if he did not have mora with him, some part of you admired him for that since he doesn't pay too much...attention, yes, to prices. He was smart, caring, and gentle. Little did you know that that exact moment, Zhongli had also admired your stories and personality.

Time goes by, and you fell for him even more. As if every minute you spend with him, there is warmth in your heart. Everytime you look at his shining eyes, you end up being in awe.. what a beautiful man, you tell yourself. Though you were careful with being in love with him. From what you knew, he was a mortal while you are a traveller of realities being thousands years old. But alas, it has been made known to you and the traveller that he is an archon, alive for more than 6000 years. You felt better with being in love with him, and thought that maybe that is one of the reasons why you felt some strong connection between the both of you.

After you and the traveller saved Liyue, the traveller had to leave you in order to go to Inazuma - a closed nation that unfortunately, you cannot go in. Though you were sad that you have to leave the traveller in Inazuma, you were happy when you realized you could spend more time with Zhongli alone. And so, the both of you did. Each day, the both of you fell more and more in love with each other to the point where you cannot handle your feelings being hidden anymore. So you confessed. Part of you were scared, but you knew Zhongli was mature enough to not let your friendship fade away if ever he doesn't like, no, love you back.

"Does this mean that we break our friendship now?", Zhongli's words startled and hurt you. "Why..? You don't have to love me back, I am alright with that. But why must our friendship be ruined because of my feelings?", you ask him looking straight at his eye as you do everything you can to not let your tears escape your eyes. "If two people become in love with each other, don't they leave the stage of friendship and proceed to be in a relationship together?", Zhongli replied in a stern yet blushing face. Yoh look at him with shock and jokingly hit his chest. "First off, why must you scare me like that? How rude.. And second, where did you learn how to say these kind of things?". A part of you was upset that he had scared you like that, but you still had a wholesome smile in your face, a result of happiness because he had felt the same way towards you all along. Zhongli simply chuckled, which is quite rare, to your flustered state and proceeded to put one arm on the back of your head, pulling you to a hug while your head relaxes against his chest.

And starting that day, you and Zhongli was in a relationship. At first, it was quite awkward. After all, Zhongli never had been into a relationship or at least, been years since he had been into one again. You're relationship was also private. The both of you did not do pda too much. But behind closed doors, Zhongli loves to hug you and put his head on top of yours, relaxing to your embrace as he forgets all of the cruel things in this world. One day, the traveller came back to Liyue to perhaps bring you in Snezhnaya with them, but you preffered to be selfish for once and declined. You still wanted to know more about the unknown god, but at the same time, you are already contented with the life you have with Zhongli. The traveller understood that and made their way in Snezhnaya, you reminding them that if they need anything, they could ask you for help.

Zhongli was quite surprised with your decision. He did not want to be a distraction to your goals, however, you insisted that it is alright. In which he became secretly happy about. He is, after all, very in love with you. So much that no word can describe the amount of love he has for you. As an archon, he had met a lot of people and lost lots. He was used to it, and often times, he would prepare himself if anyone he meets dies. But you. He knew that he was nowhere near prepared to see you dying, or simply disappearing from his life. He wanted you to stay. And he will do everything to do so. May it be strict contracts or bloody fighting, he will do it just so that you will stay alive. He at first thought that it was pathetic for him to act and think like this all because of one person in his life. All because of you. But instead of burying himself with these thoughts, he simply decided to do everything he can to make you stay. Everyday, he thanks the celestial gods for such a wonderful partner and asks them to protect you with all their might.

But alas, all lovely days come to an end. The traveller's experience in Snezhnaya sadly was very complicated. It caused the fatui to attack Liyue and Mondstadt. It caused Venti and Zhongli regret losing their gnosis because now, all they can rely on is human power and celestial gods' mercy to protect their nations...

A lot of people in Liyue proceeded to hide from the fatui, going through mountains and forests just to survive the war going through. The adeptus, as well as those with visions and the traveller, was doing everything they can to help Liyue. You decided to help as well. Zhongli, at first, was hesitant. He did not want you to fight as your chances of dying will increase. All he wanted to do was for the two of you to run, hide, and if anything happens, simply defend yourselves together. But no. A part of you thinks that if only you had went with the traveller, none of this could've happened. You had a tearful argument with Zhongli, just so that he could allow you to fight while he runs, saving himself from the war. Before leaving him in a cave both of you found and hid in, the last conversation you had with him happened.

"Please..dear. Please stay safe. Please do not die on me. I trust you, but I hope you know that I can never manage to lose you."

"Zhongli, my dear, you know that I cannot just leave Liyue to suffer when I have the power to defend the nation."

"But I cannot afford to lose you. I rarely do these type of things, but I am begging you to go back home harmless and safe."

"We both have lived for thousands of years. We both know that this was bound to happen."

"I do know that such is bound to happen, but I am not prepared to lose you. I never want to lose you. I want the both of us to spend each day in our life together. So please, don't just leave me. Promise me that we will still be with each other, together, even after this war."

"I will try."

You refused to look at him as you two had this conversation. But you know he was crying. You know he was suffering. You knew, however, that you need to help defend Liyue. And so, you bid your last goodbye as you left him miserable.

He waited for you. He remained awake at night, hoping to see you just by the cave entrance. But you never came home. However, he still waited. He wanted to keep his promise to you to stay safe no matter what. A day of waiting, turned into three. Three days of waiting had turned into five. Five days of waiting, turned into a week. He trusted you. He listened to you. He prayed to the celestial gods. But he cannot sit in the cave anymore, simply waiting for you. He went outside with his polearm, and tried to find you.

He went to rivers, lakes, and forests but he cannot find you. After a few days of searching, he finally sees you. Your cold rotting body, dried blood all over you, your eyes and mouth open. It was a sight he imagined might happen but he never wanted to see. He ran to you, cupped your face. Uncontrollably, many tears had fallen from his eyes as his hands shake while holding your dead corpse. He lost you. He was too late. He felt stupid. He should've done more to make you stay. And now, you're dead. The one he loved so so much, is now dead on the ground. He screamed, not caring if there is anyone near by or if there are any fatui members that could hear him and kill him. He found life suddenly useless. He found his heart empty, mind filled with so many regrets and memories of the both of you. He thought to himself why must it end this way? He was mad, sad, disappointed... Even if you were dead, he held your cold hands and hugged you for one last time.

What he did not however was that you were still there. That the celestial gods had listened to the both of you - that the both of you will stay together. However, you are only there beside him as a spirit that he is not able to see. You felt horrible. You tried your very best but you failed. And now, the both of you are covered in tears. One decision. Only one decision of yours was what led the two of you to this.

The war had ended. Lots of people died, including you. Ever since the day you died, you followed Zhongli everywhere as a spirit. You would hug him, kiss him, and hold his hand especially when he cries about your death. You know that he won't feel your affections and hear your words, but you stayed with him just like how you would as a human.

Maybe Zhongli became slightly crazy. Maybe he knew that you were a spirit. Maybe it was just his way of coping. But a lot of times, especially when he is alone, he would pretend that you are still with him. Everytime he cooks food, he pretends to talk to you and tell you about his day. Everytime he eats, he always put on two plates on the table, one for him and one for you. Everytime he sleeps, he leaves a space for you and wears a shirt of yours, and hugs the pillow you used to lay on, and he does not decide on washing anytime soon. Even in times where he would take a walk, he would have one hand open, pretending that you are there to hold it. Some had noticed this habit of Zhongli, especially the traveller and Paimon. They would think that such coping mechanism is unhealthy and will just hurt him more. Some also thinks that it is quite delusional of him to do such things. But they preferred not to tell him these because they knew how important you are to him. They knew how your death affected him so much, and decided to just let him be.

Bonus:

He and Childe are still friends in some way. Childe indeed was a part of the fatui, but was against with the war that happened. In fact, he helped the traveller and tried to save you. It was also because of this war why he had left the fatui and hated it instead. Sometimes, Zhongli and Childe would have a conversation together. Childe would even cook for Zhongli at times. And since he knows how Zhongli copes with his loss, he would make sure that there is an empty chair for you anytime, as well as a plate of food meant for you. You can't help but feel sad and happy at the same time. You were sad to see Zhongli like this, miserable and dead inside. But quite, just quite, happy that he still acknowledges your presence even if he does not know you as a spirit, but knows you as a part of his memory and imagination.

Author's Note:

Felt like writing hurt today so here, I feed you this. Archons know how much grammar and spelling mistakes are in this post, so forgive me for that. I don't know if it is sad enough to make people cry, but I wish it is because that is my goal after all. I love y'all and stay safe, have a good day <3 sorry if this is also ooc, i main zhongli but uhh :D i only know osmanthus wine

#pandaluc #zhongli #zhongli x reader #geo archon #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin men #genshin x reader #zhongli imagines

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yesttoheaven · 4 years ago

Text

GOOD GIRLS GO TO HELL

CHAPTER 1

pairing: arvin russell x female!reader

summary: In the eyes of extremely strict parents, 'good' girls go to hell, but they don't know that they are handing over their own daughter to the devil – known to all as Rev. Teagardin.

wc: 3.8k

warnings: language, mentions (not depictions) of abuse, manipulation, religious fanaticism, angst

a/n: This idea has been on my mind since the day I watched the movie, so... here we go!

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

"I don't usually interfere that way. It would be best if she came here willingly. She needs to be open to accept all the blessings that God will bring to her life." Rev. Teagardin took a step forward, considering the request of a mother and father completely desperate for the salvation of their only daughter.

"We tried everything. We found great references about a boarding school called 'Good Pastor', but a week later they called to report that she had run away! Our daughter appeared a few days later in the company of three strange girls. One of them is a single mother, our Y/N shouldn't hang out with those kind of people." The woman's words contained disgust. She was tired of watching her daughter ruin her own life. The girl had become a topic of conversation in the town and a shame for the whole family.

"The truth is, we don't know what to do with Y/N. Day after day she becomes more rebellious. She doesn't respect us." Mr. Henson shared the same agony as his wife, but both see Preston as the solution to this problem.

"We don't want our only daughter to go to hell! You need to help us, Reverend. We believe that you are the only one capable of driving the devil out of her. In the name of God, save our little Y/N!"

In absolute silence, the preacher walked near the window, watching Y/N. She was sitting on the hood of Mr. Henson's car and her body was lulled by the gentle breeze that touched the skirt of the dress she wore, revealing her legs that should have been silky smooth. Smiling, the man looked at the girl's parents, knowing exactly what to do to save Y/N's soul.

"I'm glad you came to me. God will be my guide to help your daughter. Now, I would like to talk to her for a while."

Extremely grateful, Y/N's parents agreed and left the church for a few seconds. When they returned, Y/N was with them. The girl's curious eyes moved from side to side, until they found Preston Teagardin with his hands on his hips. He was at the altar, the cross appearing behind his head left him with a divine aura, but the girl remembers the day she saw the preacher humiliate – indirectly – the chicken liver dish that Emma Russell prepared with such affection. If he said those horrible things to a religious woman like Emma, Y/N didn't want to imagine what he might be thinking about her at the moment. Maybe he was wondering why she hasn't started to burn while walking on sacred ground, but it was him who was burning. Burning with desire. A sin that he identifies in others, but never in himself.

"Hello, you must be Y/N." The man approached, his eyes shining like a hungry predator who had just found the perfect prey. "You don't usually visit the house of God."

"But I'm sure that is about to change." Y/N's mother replied, looking at her daughter hopefully.

Y/N may not be an especially easy girl to handle, but she never understood why her parents didn't respect her space. She never visited the church often and that number dropped to zero when they started to force her to go with them. Over the years, Knockemstiff residents have turned religion into a disease. It's close to insanity and Y/N Henson doesn't want that for her life. Despite being seen as a sinner, she still prays every night. She gets down on her knees and talks to God.

"Dear, your dad and I brought you here to talk to Reverend Teagardin..."

"What? You said you would come here to confess and then we would go home!" Y/N protested angrily. She was ready to retrace her steps to the exit when her father took her arm.

"Y/N, we just want the best for you. Talking to the reverend can be a good start."

"And we are not giving you another option." Mrs. Henson completed, remaining firm in her decision. "Your father and I agreed not to participate in this conversation. We will walk around the town and then we come back here to get you."

"I can take her home... If you agree." Teagardin said, hiding his real intentions and touching the girl's shoulder. She was so small around him and looked so vulnerable. He smiled when he realized that.

"Oh, that's very kind, Reverend. Thanks." Y/N's mother replied, feeling enchanted by the man's benevolence. "Be a good girl." She said, kissing her daughter's forehead.

The preacher accompanied them to the door and having no other option Y/N walked through the church, staring at the cross nailed to the wall. She never felt that she was turning away from God, but looking back is exactly what she did.

"Now it's just me, you and Him." The reverend's words brought Y/N out of her own thoughts and she turned to him, crossing her arms in the process. This made her breasts more visible under the black dress she wore and Teagardin noticed.

"I can go and you tell my parents that you talked to me, but it didn't work because I'm a hopeless case. It's simple."

"I can't lie to your parents. I also don't think you're a hopeless case, Y/N." The man admitted, going to the first bench and sitting down. "We can talk?"

"Like... about my sins?"

"No. A normal conversation. Why don't you start by telling me about your life?" He patted the bench, silently inviting her to sit beside him.

Y/N didn't understand how a simple conversation could help, but she found the idea pleasant. Showing a shy smile, she approached Teagardin and sat down next to him, leaving a space between their bodies. Once again she looked at the cross, beginning to speak:

"I work for Ms. Fowler, she has a chicken coop and some pigs... I don't do much, but I like to help take care of animals and she says they like me too." At that moment Y/N looked at the preacher and imagined that she would find him with an expression of disinterest. The same expression of disinterest that her parents show when she tried to start a conversation or simply tell how her day was. They were always busy, but Teagardin was completely focused on everything she said and with a small smile on the corner of his lips.

"So, do you take care of the animals? I'm impressed, I don't know many girls who risk their lives by entering a pigsty."

"It's a dangerous place." She let slip a sweet laugh, feeling light, as she hadn't felt for a long time. "I understand them."

"I can see that you have a great relationship with animals, but what about your friends? Tell me a little about them." Those words were enough to destabilize Y/N. Any sign of happiness disappeared from her face and everything went gray, just like the view through the church windows. The rain was close and Y/N controlled herself not to start crying.

Like a sniffer dog, Preston felt this was a sensitive subject for the girl – maybe an open wound – and waited patiently until she decided to share it with him.

"I was never good at making friends, but I used to have a friend at school. Her name was Isabella. We were inseparable, but one day her father received a job offer in another city... Despite the distance, she called me every day in the late afternoon" The nostalgia was noticeable in her voice and the way her face softened with small memories. Isabella and Y/N were like sisters, but Mrs. Henson never approved of that friendship. "I am three years without news of my best friend. She never called or answered my letters and I don't know why, reverend."

"Have you never been to visit her?"

"My parents won't let me out of Knockemstiff."

"You don't have to go alone. They can go with you..."

"They don't care about me or what I want." Y/N said, shaking her shoulders as if this feeling was mutual, but deep down she knew it wasn't. "My mom said I have the power to turn people away and if Isabella walked away from me, it is certainly my fault."

"Your mother shouldn't say that." Teagardin looked deeply hurt. The situation was worse than he imagined, this family needs his help.

Y/N needs his help.

"Well, I lost Isabella's friendship, but I got three new friends!" The girl informed, as if she had finally found her place. "Two of them I met at the boarding school. The third helped us to escape and she has a beautiful baby. They work together in a bar away from the city..."

"What do they do in this bar?" The reverend had some suspicions, but he wanted to hear her confess.

"They... dance." Y/N said slowly. "I know it can look wrong, but they are good people and I don't understand why everyone looks at these girls with..."

"Have you ever been there?" Preston needed to know, but the girl just bowed her head. Sighing deeply, he stretched his arm over her shoulders, ending the distance between their bodies. "It's all right... God is merciful and benevolent. He forgives all of our sins, but He does not forgive lies."

"It was only once. I swear!" In the same instant that the words left her lips, she hid her face in Teagardin's chest and he took the opportunity to hug her, and feel the sweet perfume of her hair. It smelled like innocence.

"You made a mistake by going there. That place is not for family girls."

"I was just tired of everything... So, I thought about going there to have a drink and forget about the problems."

"Learn one thing..." The man said softly, running his fingers through her hair. "When problems arise and you feel alone, start praying. God is your best friend. And I am also here to help you."

"Thanks, reverend."

"Never go back to that place again. You shouldn't be drinking... and smoking."

"Wait..." The girl moved away from Teagardin, looking him straight in the eye. "Did my parents say that?"

"I was in town when I saw you smoking with a boy. He approached you and passed the smoke to your mouth... And then he kissed you. Is he your boyfriend?"

"Oh, you saw me with Arvin..." Shame consumed Y/N, turning her cheeks into two tomatoes. "But we are not together. It was our first kiss... My first kiss."

The moment they shared in the car had been magical. Arvin was always different from the Knockemstiff boys. He never judged Y/N for her actions. He understood her, but sometimes some problems were so big that they made the girl run away from him. All Arvin wanted was to hold her in his arms and protect from all the evil in the world.

"You need to stay away from these people. Starting with this young guy." The preacher's words captured Y/N's attention, confusing her. "You can't see it now, but those friendships are not good for you. They are driving you away from your true purpose. And Arvin Russell is taking advantage of your innocence to..."

"Arvin would never do that." She stated in all letters, not letting him finish the assumption. "I think... I think he likes me."

"There is a big difference between love and carnal attraction, and boys his age think of only one thing." Teagardin insisted, using a peaceful tone of voice. He was so convincing, that despite knowing Arvin for a long time, Y/N wondered about the boy's real intentions. He was always kind and respectful, or maybe that's what she thought, but with the help of the reverend she was beginning to understand, and the feeling of being used was difficult to digest. "I saw the way he looked at you... I saw the sin in his eyes."

"This cannot be true... W-We are not talking about the same person! He's d-different!"

"It doesn't matter who you believed in all this time or what you accepted to... to be like them. In the end, you are alone. You know it." When Preston finished, she was completely broken. It was cruel, but someone needed to open her eyes. Y/N deserved the truth. "I know it is difficult, but I am here for you." He buried her against his chest in a bear hug, wishing feel her soft, warm body in his arms again. Y/N returned the hug — and then started to cry.

Her friends were not her friends.

Her parents were right.

She felt confused. Lost. But the reverend was beside her to show a new path free from sin and delusions.

"Do you know Proverbs 28:13?" He asked, holding her face in his hands. With his fingertips he wiped away a few tears and she smiled, shaking her head. "Whoever tries to hide his sins will not succeed, but the one who confesses his sins and leaves them behind will find mercy. Are you ready for this?"

"Yes, reverend." That was the confirmation he needed.

Preston Teagardin always believed that he had a special connection with God. With the right words he had the power to reach the hearts of these girls and offer them redemption. In his dark mind, they were privileged to be touched by a holy man like him. He was doing them a favor. And now it's Y/N's turn.

"First, you need to be free from your sins." The man looked with adoration for the little fallen angel. Slowly, he touched her knees, feeling the smooth skin and after a sigh, the girl was in his hands.

"Reverend..."

"Shhh. Just trust me." He said when his hands disappeared under her dress. His touch was sacred, something she had never experienced, but Y/N's conscience screamed that this was wrong. "Stand up so I can take your panties off. I need to feel you..." She got up, but ran quickly away from him, escaping his dirty hands.

Disappointment appeared in her eyes in the form of tears. It was impossible not to feel used. Again. Influenced by him, Y/N believed that her friends were a problem in her life and that they were moving her away from God's plans, but the real sinner is inside the church. His understanding, concern and kindness never existed. It was all part of the game. He needed to earn her trust before he could attack.

"You... You are a wolf in sheep's clothing! A liar! I thought for the first time someone was understanding my side, but you just want to fuck with me!"

"You got it wrong..."

"S-Stay away from me!" Y/N warned when Teagardin tried to approach. Fear coursed through her veins, spreading through her body like a drug. She didn't know what to do, but she knew she didn't want to be touched by him that way. "If you approach me, I swear I make a scandal! The whole city will know who you really are!"

"No one will believe you." He took a step forward. "You need help. I'm the only one who can..."

"Stop that shit! Do not say that the devil is in me, when you are trying to abuse a girl who is old enough to be your daughter! You are the devil, Teagardin!" For the first time she saw the anger in his eyes. Preston would never agree with that, but that is his true face. He is the devil in disguise and this was confirmed the instant he advanced on her.

Y/N ran to the exit, screaming desperately for help, even though she knew she was alone in this nightmare. With shaking hands, she tried to open the door, but the reverend took her in his arms. Compared to the girl’s small, slender body, he was stronger than she was, but Y/N resisted and hit her knee in the middle of his legs, reaching his weak point. The man let out a loud growl and walked away, seeking support on one of the wooden benches. Taking advantage of the distraction, Y/N opened the door and ran as fast as she could. Teagardin thought of running after her to finish what he started, but he gave up as soon as he saw her cross the threshold of the church, running in the rain as if her life depended on it. She didn't look back, just kept running until she disappeared into the trees.

...

The day turned into night, covering everything with its dark cloak, while rain fell mercilessly on Knockemstiff. Y/N stumbled along the road, hugging her own body in an unsuccessful attempt to warm up. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the raindrops, but the girl's mind was elsewhere.

After what happened at the church, her faith was in pieces. She always knew that bad men walked on Earth, but she never imagined that the preacher was one of them. The way he touched her was disgusting. She wanted to scream, take the pain out of her chest and run back home to tell her parents what happened, but Teagardin's words were stuck in her head, hurting her:

"In the end, you are alone. You know it."

"No one will believe you."

Unexpectedly – or maybe that was a divine sign – a car approached the road Y/N was on. She was surprised to hear the noise of the engine and looked back. Despite the rain and the headlight blinding her for a few moments, Y/N recognized the old car and the boy on the other side certainly recognized her too. Arvin left his truck without a second thought, not caring about the pouring rain wetting his clothes in a matter of seconds.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, needing to raise his voice so she could hear. The girl opened her mouth to reply, but gave up, looking away.

Arvin realized that something was wrong. It was common to see Y/N walking around the city, but not in these circumstances. Before she looked away, he noticed the pain in her eyes. It was no secret to him that she had a difficult relationship with her parents, but this time it was different.

For a moment the worry made him forget that they were both still in the rain and when he realized this, the boy immediately guided her to the car. When she was safely in the passenger seat, he bypassed the vehicle and took the driver's seat. Rain was no longer a problem, but the cold persisted and Arvin grabbed his jeans jacket from the back seat.

"Here." He handed it to her and Y/N mumbled a small 'thanks', wearing the jacket. "So... what happened? You are far from home. It is dangerous to go out in the middle of a storm like this..."

"My intention is to stay away from home. The storm is an extra." The girl tried to relax, hiding her real emotions but it was obvious that she was not well.

"Did you argue with your parents again?"

"I would prefer that." She replied, forcing a laugh. Getting into an argument with her parents was common for her and seemed small compared to what actually happened. But what really happened was suffocating her. "I can tell you everything, r-right?"

"You know you can." Arvin said, holding her hand. The simple contact made their hearts accelerate and Y/N was grateful to have him by her side.

Feeling encouraged, she began to tell what happened at the church. The fact that her parents insisted that the devil was inside her, made Arvin angry. He never understood what the problem was with Mr. and Mrs. Henson about this. Y/N was not sick. All she needed was love and they never gave it to her.

Y/N didn't want to delve into the details of her conversation with the new preacher, but Arvin heard the fear in her voice when she mentioned his name. She said he was good with words, and very persuasive. He easily won her trust and that was her worst mistake. Arvin stopped listening when she said that the man's hands disappeared under the dress she was wearing. Anger consumed him quickly, making his blood boil and he clapped his hands on the steering wheel. With a vision blurred by tears, Y/N looked at him with concern. The tension was clear throughout his body; his jaw was tightly clenched and his hands were shaking as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Arvin always had an explosive temper – paternal inheritance –, especially when the people he cared about were hurt.

"The preacher will never touch you again. I promise." He stated with conviction, bringing his attention back to Y/N. She looked tired, crying silently and the boy opened his arms for her to snuggle against his chest. Playing with a lock of her hair, he said: "I always knew there was something wrong with him. I should be there for you..."

"It's okay, Arvin. I'll be fine and I'll forget what happened... I just need to stay away from the church. This is easy for me." Y/N knew it wouldn't be so easy, but to calm him down, everything was welcome.

"You cannot protect him."

"I am not protecting him, but I know you..." She murmured softly, running a hand over his chest. "My life is a mess, you are the only one who believes in me. So, I'm just asking you not to do anything stupid... Because... Because I need you here." Arvin relaxed at her words. It was nice to know that she wanted him around in this difficult time. Y/N would have his support forever. And his love. For her sake, he decided to act with caution, but this does not mean that Teagardin will not suffer the consequences of his actions.

With undisclosed feelings, they remained embraced, just enjoying each other's company. It had been a long day. Arvin remembered the fallen tree in the middle of the road, forcing him to take the long way home, but that path brought him to Y/N. He was happy that it was he who found her in the middle of this storm.

"You need to rest. I will take you home." The boy broke the silence and Y/N moved away from him, shaking her head.

"No! I don't want to go home! My parents... they go..."

"I'll take you to my house." Arvin said, catching her cheek with his hand and watching the panic disappear from her eyes. With a smile, he added: "Grandma misses you."

• a/n: This is the first fic I publish here and I'm very nervous!! (Possibly I will do a second part of this) Btw, criticism is welcome!!

(CHAPTER TWO HERE)

#arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x you #arvin eugene russell #arvin russell #arvin russel imagine #arvin russel x y/n #the devil all the time #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #preston teagardin #arvin russell one shot #tom holland one shot #tdatt imagine #tdatt fic #tdatt

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moonbeambucky · 4 years ago

Text

I Promise (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4722 Warnings: fluff, light angst, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23 for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

PART 1

In the months that passed Chris had been able to keep up on email with a bit more regularity though it still took some time in between messages. Video calls were less frequent but you still had them. You stood back from your laptop and faced sideways, lifting your shirt to reveal the protrusion of your growing belly.

His smile was bittersweet, wishing he could be there in person to watch you grow, to feel when the baby starts kicking. You were having a boy and decided to name him Oliver. After you first spoke Chris waited for you to tell your family first before he told his over email, and you followed up with a visit to see them.

His parents, Michael and Lori, were so happy to see you again. They always knew you and Chris were close but now with a grandchild on the way they were thrilled. Along with your parents they offered help immediately, everyone overwhelming you with to-do lists and essential shopping you hadn’t thought about at that point.

“My dad’s going to help make the storage room a nursery.”

Your apartment was technically a one bedroom but there was a small room adjacent to yours you’ve been using as extra space to hold anything random you couldn’t find a spot for anywhere else. It was on the narrow side and currently overcrowded with junk, not the most picturesque nursery but it would have to do for now, as soon as you get rid of things to make space.

“I wish I was there to help you,” he sighed, not speaking solely about helping you clean. “We’ll be descending for Mars soon so I won’t be able to keep in touch until we get back on the Hermes.”

You understood. Chris would be there for about a month and you assumed it would take a little longer to hear back from him once they got back on board to begin their journey back.

It was an unassuming morning at home. You were trying to find a comfortable position on your couch, adjusting the cushion you bought for extra support. You’re tired, finding it harder to fall asleep comfortably with a bigger belly. At 24 weeks your baby was apparently practicing to be a soccer player, his kicks growing stronger every day. You loved this part of pregnancy but you also couldn’t deny how terrible you felt. Your feet started swelling, your skin was itchy and you thought you were going crazy every time you tried to read but the words were blurring. Changes were expected but not in the way you always thought.

A news report breaks on TV, a red banner that flashes words that have your heart beating rapidly – ARES III ASTRONAUTS COMING HOME. Tears flood your eyes as you hear the news, Mark Watney is dead. Nausea washes over your body in waves and you clutch your stomach, forgetting to breathe until you hear that Chris was safe. You exhale with relief though your heart aches for the crew and Mark’s family. You rubbed your belly in gentle circles, speaking softly to let Oliver know that Daddy was alright and he was coming home.

It was late December when Chris finally had a chance to call you. Tears glisten in his eyes as he sees you, thanking you for the picture you emailed him from your latest sonogram. The 3D technology showed a clear picture of Oliver’s sweet face and Chris longed to meet him. Your belly had grown as well, with less than three months to go before your due date.

The nursery was complete and you really owed a lot to your family and Chris’ for helping it come together. Chloe arranged a baby shower which helped fill the nursery with everything you needed, from drawers full of diapers to a wardrobe of clothes, a lot of space themed outfits you couldn’t wait to send Chris pictures of.

Though you were overjoyed at everyone being there it was hard to keep up a smile. Everyone knew the situation and there was no way getting around the fact that he wouldn’t be home for another year. Still you pushed on and tried not to dwell on what you couldn’t change.

“Wow,” Chris marveled as you showed him your bump. “You’re so much bigger since I last saw you.” The flat, unamused expression you shot Chris made him quickly stutter on his words. “I meant your bump, it’s… you look beautiful, I promise.” You smiled a little, trusting him even if you didn’t quite believe it all the time.

Catching up came to a halt when Chris began to open up about what happened. You knew it was coming. It was ubiquitous in the news cycle but hearing it from Chris directly made your stomach churn. You wished you could be there, to wipe away his tears and hold him close as he mourned for his friend. You wished even more that you could tell him the truth… Mark was alive.

You received communication from NASA just before the public learned about it though you were specifically instructed not to tell Chris about the information. According to them the crew needed to focus on their mission home and honestly you thought it was a bunch of bullshit. You felt nauseous the whole time speaking to Chris, trying to hide the truth you so desperately wanted to tell him. Lying was not something you and Chris ever did to each other and every second you held your tongue felt like you were betraying all the years of your friendship.

When the call ended you shut your laptop, hanging your head low and breaking down into tears. It was a deep, messy faced cry with guttural sobs. You were crying for everything. For Mark, mistakenly left to die on a planet of isolation, for Chris and lying to his face, for Oliver who can’t have his father around like you wanted him to be.

As time went on you felt better, emailing and speaking to Chris whenever he could. It’s February and your heart feels lighter as you await the video connection. You try not to get sentimental with Valentine’s Day having just passed. You and Chris are not anything officially, just two adults who have known each other their whole lives having a baby… but the idea doesn’t scare you.

You think back to your thirtieth birthday and what would have happened if you were single. Would Chris have mentioned the promise? It’s a silly thought. He was so busy with his career he probably wouldn’t have gone through with it but you can’t help thinking about the “what if.” And now you were single, single and pregnant with his child, so what if…

Your thoughts are cut off immediately when you actually see Chris. His eyes were rimmed red, eyes glistening with tears that made the tiny red veins scattered across the whites of his eyes look like they were bleeding.

“Mark is alive,” his voice shuddered through a heaving sob.

Your mouth dropped open as you listened in shock. How does he know?

Chris rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, eyes squeezing tight as he exhaled another heavy sigh. “I’m the one that called it, did you know that? I told Commander Lewis he was dead and they knew…”

His words dropped, his voice failing to speak but Chris’ grief turned to anger just as quickly. “They knew… they knew for two goddamn months that he was alive! Do you know how that feels?”

Your heart was breaking for him even more and there was nothing you could do but offer words of comfort as he vented. “Chris I’m so sorry. Who told you?”

“Mitch Henderson, our flight director, he– wait.” Chris’ body stiffened, eyes narrowing at the screen. “What do you mean who? Did… did you know?”

You dropped your head in shame, unable to answer him in words.

“You knew? Y/N look at me!” he shouted.

Your head snapped up to see Chris’ nostrils flaring, jaw clenched tight. “You knew my friend was alive and you didn’t tell me?” he grit through his teeth, anger burning hotter than the sun.

“I’m sorry Chris, I couldn’t.”

He scoffed, cutting off your explanation. His tone raised to a level he’s never taken with you before. “You couldn’t what, Y/N? You looked me in the eye and lied to me about everything!”

Though Chris may have been justified in his anger it shouldn't have been directed at you. Just as quickly you retorted, “I’m not the only one Chris! Everyone knows, your parents, Chloe; this isn’t on me. NASA told us not to say anything to distract you.”

“Oh but telling me you’re pregnant wasn’t a distraction?” he snapped.

Chris knew he made a mistake but it was too late, the words came out and he couldn’t take them back. He watched you sink in your chair, your lips beginning to quiver. You dropped your head down to hide the tears but he could see them leaving wet puddles on the fabric of your shirt.

He was upset, feeling guilty about leaving Mark stranded even though he knows there was nothing he could have done. His biometer was damaged, he thought… they all thought he was dead and if they didn’t leave they’d all have died too. There was nothing he could do to change the past but this isn’t what he wanted.

Chris was angry and frustrated with everything. He wanted his friend to be safe on the Hermes, he wanted this mission to be over, he wanted… to be with you. You were due in three weeks and the closer the date got the more he hated being up in space when all he wanted was to be by your side.

“Y/N… Y/N please… I’m sorry,” he sniffled, wiping away fresh tears that began to fall. “I didn’t mean to take this out on you… please…”

Tears still fell as you lifted your head slowly towards the screen to find Chris looking just as upset as you were. You cleared your throat, wiping the wetness away from your cheek as you spoke, “If you don’t want to do this–”

“No!” he cut you off immediately, “Y/N please, I was wrong. I was upset and I didn’t mean that. I want this more than anything. I’m sorry.”

The sincerity was clear in the depths of his eyes, staring at you as if he was unworthy of your gaze. You took a moment to think of what he’s going through; the world had time to process everything that was happening with Mark but for Chris this was new and upsetting and you understood.

“I’m sorry too. I never wanted to lie to you.”

“Stop, you don’t have to apologize, I was an asshole.” Chris immediately stops your protests and you let him, feeling yourself smile again the longer you continue to speak. “I miss you a lot, do you know that?” His smile returned as he spoke, asking how you were feeling with your upcoming due date.

Your smile stretches wider across your face. “I miss you too. I’m…” The smile curbs a bit as you let out a sigh. “I’m nervous honestly, excited but scared I guess, I don’t know. I know it’s unrealistic and maybe even a bit selfish to say but I feel like if you were here I’d be a lot better.”

He apologizes again though you find yourself doing the same, not meaning to add to the guilt he already lives with. “I wish I could be there but I know you’re going to get through it, and Oliver already has the best mom in the world.”

Your mouth gasped open and you placed your hand on your bump. “He just kicked when you said that, I’m not even kidding!”

“See, it’s true,” he grinned widely.

There was a faint noise in the background and you saw Chris looking off to the side. When he turned back to face the screen you could tell by the tension in his face that he was needed for something.

“I have to go now, but… I love you Y/N.”

Though you’ve heard those words so many times before and have spoken them yourself, this time they felt different. You wondered if he meant to put that new emotion behind it and if you felt the same.

There wasn’t much time to ponder these thoughts as two weeks later you were in the hospital, with your mom and Chloe by your side getting you through labor. It was an excruciating ordeal with contractions that were so intense you were in tears. They helped you breathe through them, letting you squeeze their hands as you received an epidural and finally a few hours later it was time to push. Chloe recorded the birth over your shoulder for Chris and with a strangled cry Oliver came into the world.

Tears of joy ran down your cheeks as you held him against you. He was beautiful and you could see so much of Chris in him already. A bittersweet sob wracked through you, wishing he was there.

Chris called the whole crew in to see photos of Oliver as he opened his email. There were a ton, his family making sure they took pictures from every angle. There were close ups of his little toes, pictures of him sleeping and Chris’ favorites of you holding him.

“Congratulations Beck!” “Welcome to fatherhood.” “He’s beautiful.”

Chris saved some things for himself like Oliver’s birth and a special message you sent him. The phone was held out in front of you, the unforgiving hospital lights showing off how tired you looked but to Chris you were beautiful and shining as bright as the stars.

“We did it.” Your voice was soft and strained, but you still pushed on to speak to him. The camera flipped towards the bassinet beside your bed with Oliver sleeping peacefully. “Say hi to Daddy,” you whispered softly. There were a few moments of silence watching him sleep, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as Oliver’s mouth twitched. “I can’t wait for you to meet him Chris,” the camera flipped around again, “I know you’re going to be an amazing father. I love you so much.”

When the video ended Chris couldn’t help but kiss the screen, wishing it was your lips that his were pressed against. He’s eagerly counting the days and soon enough he would be.

Chris sat uncomfortably in his chair, elbow resting on the glossy white table as his hand covers his mouth, hiding the worry and tension of his lips. He feels like he swallowed a bag of rocks, his stomach is tense and tight, cramping in all the worst ways. He tried to hide it, shifting in his chair as he listens to his Commander lay out a plan to save Mark.

It goes directly against NASA’s orders and he’s not sure what the consequences would be for mutiny but he doesn’t care about that, not if it means they can rescue their friend.

“...If we do everything perfectly we add 533 days to our mission, 533 more days before we see our families again, 533 days of unplanned space travel where anything could go wrong.. If it’s mission critical, we die.”

He shifts again, his stomach twisting in all directions as he ponders what to do. He missed your pregnancy, Oliver’s birth. He could be home in six months and his heart swells at the thought. He is ready to happily spend his nights changing diapers and preparing bottles, bonding with his son and allowing you the sleep you need.

Chris’ shoulders slump. He doesn’t know much about fatherhood but he does know he wants to be someone Oliver could look up to and he wouldn’t be that person if he didn’t stay true to his heart and make a tough decision.

“Well, it has to be unanimous,” Commander Lewis said, scanning her head to lock eyes with each member of the crew.

It would be another year and a half before Chris saw you and Oliver and the thought hurts him deeply but he knows it’s for the best. “Let’s go get him,” he said, his voice wavering between excitement and trepidation. He knew this was right and he hoped you would believe him.

Once the Hermes corrected their course it was official and NASA knew they would have to send them the resupply probe for their extended mission. Now all Chris had to do was tell you.

It was hard to watch the tears stream down your face as you broke down, you weren’t even able to wipe them with Oliver sleeping in your arms. Chris is crying too, looking at the sweet face of the son he has to wait even longer to meet. You know why he’s doing this and you can’t exactly be mad at him. Even growing up Chris was always the person to do the right thing no matter the consequence.

“Y/N… if anything happens…”

“No!” you cut him off, letting out your anguish as softly as you could so you didn’t disturb Oliver. “Chris, don’t say that.” Your eyes pleaded with him, hating that he made you even consider the worst.

“Please, if anything happens I want you to know that you and Oliver…” His voice gives out, even Chris has a hard time accepting a very possible reality. “I made sure you’ll be taken care of.”

He stared straight through you and you understood what he meant. Adjusting your grip on Oliver, you quickly wiped the wetness from your cheek and rubbed at your nose. “You have to come back to us, promise me.”

“I promise,” he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wants to keep his promise but it’s not something he can guarantee. Oliver stirs in your arms, his face twisting as he lets out a piercing cry as if he also knew the stakes at hand.

You soothe your son as best as you could, feeling he needed a diaper change. Before saying goodbye you looked into Chris’ eyes through the screen, wishing you could reach out and cup his cheek as you proclaimed, “I love you, Chris.” You meant every word, more than ever before.

His cheeks pulled into a warm smile as he said it back. The screen goes dark and he sits quietly starting his countdown over for the day he can say it to you again in person.

A year has passed and you’re sitting on the floor with Oliver in your lap, holding a book out in front of you. This was your nightly routine before bed, letting him pick out a story from his little shelf against the wall and reading it together. He was very interested at this age, helping you turn the pages or pointing at the pictures that you would describe and try to get him to repeat.

He’s grown so much and every day you find more ways he looks like Chris, especially when he scrunches his nose, putting up a fuss when eating bananas.

Oliver’s first birthday was two months ago, it was a small party at Chris’ parents house filled with cake and presents but the best gift was that Chris was able to call in. You cried immediately, holding Oliver up to the screen and pointing at Chris. “Dada! Look Oliver it’s Dada!”

There were pictures of Chris in your house and every time you passed them you would show Oliver, hoping the connection would eventually sink in. Oliver grinned at the screen showing off four tiny teeth in the center of his smile. “Oliver it’s Daddy!” Chris said, waving his hands. “Hey buddy. I love you Oliver. I’ll see you soon.”

It didn’t feel real that Chris was actually coming home this year since he’s been gone for so long. You’ve been keeping in touch, emailing him as many pictures and videos of Oliver as you could. Everyone loved the professional shots taken when he was six months old, dressed in pajamas printed with planets on them, holding a bottle shaped like a spaceship. In others he was dressed as an astronaut tethered to a bright and colorful rocketship laying against a starry background made to look like he was floating in space, just like his Dad.

With Oliver in bed you went to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat though you could barely focus. You were on edge, watching the live stream of Mark Watney’s rescue on your phone.

Your head lifted to the TV as you waited like the rest of the world, watching the rescue in real time. It took an hour before there was confirmation that Mark was safely on board and the relief brought tears to your eyes. The whole world was celebrating and you couldn’t imagine how happy Chris and his crew were to get him back and soon enough Chris would be home too.

While some people were opening up presents on Christmas morning you were opening suitcases and getting ready to pack things for yourself and Oliver to fly to Houston to see Chris. The crew landed two days ago and seeing footage of him being pulled from the capsule brought tears to your eyes. You pointed to the screen for Oliver, “Who’s that? That’s…”

His face lit up, his little hand slapping at the screen as his squeaky voice said, “It’s Daddy!”

“That’s right. Good job!” you beamed, planting a kiss to his soft cheek.

Oliver did a lot of growing up in the last year. He was a few months shy of two, a little ball of energy that brought smiles everywhere he went. He was playful and kind, he loved to splash bubbles during bathtime, and wiggle his body to music.

Chris was able to see his emerging personality whenever you spoke to each other. Oliver was shy at first and a little confused, looking back at you instead of the screen as Chris was trying to talk to him. It took a lot of patience but you got there, pointing at Chris and saying “It’s Daddy!” enough times for Oliver to finally recognize him. Chris would smile and wave, calling him his little buddy and Oliver waved back. He was hesitant at first but regular video calls normalized their relationship and soon Oliver would press his lips to your laptop, leaving a big wet kiss on the screen meant for his Dad.

It was hard knowing Chris was back on Earth but you couldn't see him yet. He was undergoing physical evaluations and you were certain more testing would be necessary in the future considering he and the Ares III crew have set a record, spending nearly three times the amount in space than ever before. You chuckled to yourself, knowing Chris would probably want to take on the study himself although part of you knew he was more anxious to spend time with you and Oliver, a thought that made your heart swell.

A week later and you were at the Johnson Space Center, in a waiting room meant for the family of returning astronauts. Oliver is playing with Aunt “Coey” as he called her, holding his spacecraft toy and making it fly above armrests of the row of blue chairs you’re so tired of staring at. Whenever you heard noise in the hallway you quickly rushed towards Oliver, brushing his hair in place with your hands and adjusting the bottom of his striped blue shirt.

This time you were right to be prepared as a man opened the door. You all scrambled to stand up, holding Oliver in front of you with your hands on his shoulders. The man nodded, giving a quick smile and suddenly you felt overcome with nerves. After two and a half years you were finally about to see Chris again and your heart was beating wildly. You tried to steady your breaths, holding a nervous smile as you waited for him to walk through the door.

The moment he did you were overcome with emotion, bursting out with tears of joy, a smile stretching from ear to ear. He was here, he was actually here. Chris had a smile that beamed as bright as the stars, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked at you and Oliver who had grown restless of standing and made his way into his grandpa’s arms.

Chris walked unsteadily towards you, thinking Oliver could probably walk better than he can at the moment as he was still adjusting to gravity. You ran forward meeting him more than halfway, throwing your arms around him for a crushing hug. As you cried against his chest your own legs nearly gave out when you felt his arms around you.

“I missed you so much,” you muffled against his shirt, pulling yourself back to stare into his eyes once more.

“I love you,” he said, a clear admission of the feelings in his heart, no longer meant with platonic innocence.

You were always close and while the two of you never saw each other as anything but friends it certainly surprised everyone around you when you didn’t end up together. Things were different now and you both felt the shift in your relationship since he’s been away. It was more than the bond you had by having a child together; Chris always had a place in your heart and you wondered why it took this long to see it.

“I love you too,” you cried again, feeling the relief of his lips against yours as they pressed together for a sweet and long overdue kiss.

Lori kissed her son, hugging him quickly as did Chloe who was eager to record Chris and Oliver’s first official introduction on her phone. Michael placed him down and you kneeled beside Oliver. Chris eased himself down, feeling his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. In the last few years he’s been through countless stressful situations, none of which were more nerve wracking than meeting his son for the first time.

There’s a nervous look on Oliver’s face as a room full of people are all watching him and he turns to look at you, his eyes pleading for help. You reassured him that everything was okay and like the many times you’ve done in the past you pointed towards Chris. Your voice wavered as the words you spoke bubbled out of your throat, “Oliver, this is your Daddy.”

Chris smiled softly, keeping a short distance between himself and Oliver because he didn’t want to overwhelm him. It was clear Oliver was unsure of what to do, looking back and forth between you and Chris.

“Hey buddy, it’s me. I’m your Daddy,” Chris said and finally Oliver’s face lit up with recognition.

He grinned, waving to Chris in front of him as they had done through the screen so many times before. With a proud smile Oliver picked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his tummy and strung together a sentence of mostly recognizable words that meant, “I have a belly button!”

A tear squeezed out from the corner of Chris’ eyes as he laughed, “Yeah you do buddy!”

The ice was broken between them and Chris looked over his shoulder at someone who discreetly handed him something behind his back.

“I’m so happy to meet you Oliver. This is for you,” Chris said, handing over a teddy bear dressed as an astronaut.

He jumped as he took the bear, squeezing it in his arms with the happiest smile. With some encouragement you had him thank Chris and Oliver pursed his lips forward to kiss Chris’ cheek. Oliver let Chris hug him and he smiled through his tears, finally experiencing what he’s been imagining for years, holding his son in his arms.

Chris thought his days among the stars were over but together with you and Oliver he’s surrounded by a whole galaxy of love. Each day shines brighter than the last and Chris has no doubt that one day soon he will finally keep his promise.

#chris beck x reader #chris beck fanfiction #chris beck fluff #dad!chris beck #chris beck x you

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becaeffinmitchell · 4 years ago

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Fic: what i have (is who i carry home) (1/1)

Summary: Chloe, as it turns out, loves Valentine's Day.

Of course she does. Beca can't say she's surprised in the least.

aka, five Valentine's Days Beca Mitchell's had.

Note: After ten thousand years, I’m free! Or, you know, after eight years, I’m finally posting my first Bechloe fic. Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone 🥰 Gif credit goes entirely to @evenstars (thank you so much again!)

Words: 4,954

Read below or on AO3!

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i. 2012, Freshman Year, Barden University

There are so many other things Beca would rather be doing.

Like go to the dentist. Actually show up for class. Spend time over dinner with her dad and the step-monster.

Okay, maybe not that last one. Nothing in the world would make her choose that.

But here she is, in that stupid red hoodie, holding that stupid bow and arrow, standing in front of people, refusing to sing that stupid song with Amy.

Later, back at the auditorium where they have Bellas practice, Aubrey's voice is shrill and loud. (As always, Beca thinks.)

"Beca, you really need to be picking up the slack. We need every dollar that we can raise so that we have enough to cover our journey to the semi-finals, and you're dead last in our fundraiser right now."

Amy mutters something under her breath, soft enough for Beca to hear something about — the bus? The Trebles? She doesn't really know. Whatever it is, it's not something she wants to get in the middle of.

"Maybe we can think of something new to do." Beca's tone is dry, and she schools her expression into something neutral on her face, her head tilted slightly, knowing that Aubrey has to know she isn't just talking about the fundraising activity.

It's just — she can feel the potential of these girls, okay? And it's such a shame that they're stuck doing the same three songs, over and over. If she could at least try, show them her arrangements, maybe they'd have a fighting chance.

"I have the pitch pipe, and I say we do this exactly how we have been doing it."

Beca is about to say something snarky, something she knows is going to get under Aubrey's skin, when Chloe's voice rang out beside her.

"It's okay. I'll do it with Beca tomorrow."

She hasn't even noticed Chloe approaching them in the midst of this, so her head whips around so fast at the sound of her voice.

"Don't you have a class during that time, Chloe? That's the whole reason why we couldn't pair you up with Beca." There's something about Aubrey's clipped words that is super careful and controlled, like there's more that she wants to say but isn't.

Chloe shrugs, before turning to Beca with a beaming smile. "It's okay, skipping out on one Russian Lit lecture won't make a difference."

Chloe, as it turns out, loves Valentine's Day.

Of course she does. Beca can't say she's surprised in the least. She thinks she doesn't know anyone who's more enthusiastic about everything and anything.

There's something about Chloe that feels like embers starting at the base of Beca's dead, cold heart, warming it up and turning itself three sizes larger.

It's not a thing she wants to unpack right now; she's not the type to get attached to people, and especially not when she's going to go through with her plan, and leave at the end of the school year. It doesn't matter if her dad helps her or not.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Chloe's voice, melodic as it comes, breaks the silence as they walk towards the south quad. She looks ready to go through the entire residence hall, her angel wings bouncing behind them.

"It's a day corporations literally invented to convince everyone to buy cards and chocolates and flowers at jacked up prices, so..."

Chloe lets out a happy sigh. "Maybe so. But it's also a day to celebrate love! And love is so awesome. I love love. And I'm not just talking about romantic love, though that is nice. You can also celebrate the love from all relationships in your life. Like your best friends, or your parents, or your siblings."

Beca raises an eyebrow, because Chloe is just so goddamn earnest. She tugs at her hoodie. "Let me guess, you and shower guy have a date?"

"Who, Tom?"

"How many shower guys do you have?" There's a beat. "Actually, don't answer that."

So here she is, still in that stupid red hoodie, still holding that stupid bow and arrow, standing in front of people, and singing a duet with Chloe Beale.

The next morning, Kimmy unceremoniously drops a box at the foot of Beca's bed, a loud thud waking her up.

There's a sleeping mask, a whole clip of flash drives, two huge jars of peanut butter, and cans of Red Bull in the box. There's also a card, and her name is written carefully in the middle of an envelope.

Happy Valentine's Day, Beca!!!! I've said this before, and I'll say it forever: I'm SO glad that I met you. I LOVE that you love music like it's the one thing you can't live without. It's something that really resonates with me, too. You make us better. :) :)

xoxo,

Chloe!

Beca drifts off to sleep that night, the music still playing in her headphones. She's wearing that sleeping mask across her eyes.

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

ii. 2014, Junior Year, Barden University

The thing with Jesse is, he really loves these grand gestures of romance.

Sometimes Beca thinks that that's his favorite part. It's almost like he's in love with the idea of being in a relationship.

Worse still, in love with the idea of her, like she's this perfectly scripted character who exists for him.

Last year for Valentine's Day, Jesse had shown up at her dorm. Well, outside of her window actually, boombox on his shoulder. She'd tried not to wince, her lips pressed together into something resembling a smile (she hopes) to the strains of In Your Eyes, at the ungodly hour of dawn.

It isn't even that she had just gotten to sleep like, two hours before that. Or the very clear and enunciated "fuck off!" that her neighbor gave them, complete with a dramatic slamming of her window. At least she doesn't have to deal with that now, now that they've all moved into the Bellas house, newly renovated.

It was just a lot, right? And maybe she should have been a better girlfriend to anticipate it this year, or at least match some of that. Rise up to his level, or something. She just has a reservation to a fancy Italian restaurant in Midtown, and she made that way in advance. So maybe she gets points for that?

January rolls into February, and she dreads it. Every day is a countdown to The Fourteenth.

Here's the more pressing thing: Chloe seems sad. Not all the time, but Beca catches it occasionally.

She presumes she knows her best friend pretty well by this point, until she's doing things like failing a single class on purpose so that she doesn't graduate. For the second year in a row.

And Beca gets it, at least on an abstract level. If she starts thinking about what comes after graduation — and that's in a year and some — she gets nervous, too. But in no version of her reality does she get so paralyzed with fear, that she would opt to repeat her senior year like it’s groundhog year.

She wishes she could know why, for certain. She can't help if she doesn't know what's going on in Chloe's head, but for the first time, it's Chloe's turn to clam up and switch the subject.

So Beca doesn't push. She hopes it's enough to keep her afloat as she works through whatever it is. She doesn't really know what that entails, but music? Music she can do.

She pours her energy into putting together a really solid mix for Chloe; it's all the songs that remind Beca of her, and their friendship. She picks songs and arranges them and removes them before she puts them back in, because it has to sound right.

Beca feels like the world's biggest dork for giving it to her the morning of Valentine's Day.

Well, second biggest dork, because she intercepts Chloe leaving the gift boxes in the room, for her and Amy.

"Hey, uh. Happy Valentine's Day," she says, handing her the flash drive — one of the many that Chloe has gotten her over the years, like she's her supplier — and hoping she doesn't look as awkward as she feels. "It's not anything like your, like, super thoughtful gifts." She gestures in that general direction. "But you're my best friend, so... here."

She gets pulled into a hug, and Beca can't be sure, but it sounds like Chloe's 'thank you' is strained and she's about to cry.

Beca hopes it's enough.

"So, Jesse gave you just the one earring?"

Beca's back from the dinner. It was... nice? There was a string quartet and Jesse made them play John Legend's All Of Me, and Beca didn't actually die of embarrassment when he started singing along, so she'll chalk that up as a win.

"Yeah, it's like — symbolism, I guess. From the movie." Beca shrugs, chewing on the popcorn she's made that Chloe is currently stealing. She thinks about lightly smacking her hand away, but ends up shifting the bowl so that it's nearer to Chloe.

Does she regret putting Don't You (Forget About Me) in their setlist? Maybe.

Probably not, all things considered, because it worked well together with the other songs, and they did win the finals that year. But it elevated the movie to mythical and legendary status for Jesse, and if he does that arm raising motion one more time during squabbles he wants to get out of? Beca might lose it even harder.

"Is it symbolism or a metaphor? I could never tell the difference."

"I think it was a metaphor in the movie," Beca starts, a thoughtful expression on her face. "But more of a symbol for like, me and Jesse? Oh my god." She presses her free hand to her eyes. "You're such a nerd. Stop making me think deeper about this than I need or want to."

"I just think it's nice," she hears Chloe say.

Beca hums, tone neutral. "It's something, for sure. Wait." She whips her head to face her best friend. "You didn't go out tonight? Ms. 'I Love Love'?"

Chloe chuckles lowly, quietly. "I have all I need here in this house, anyway."

When Beca goes to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a glass of water, she thinks she hears the soft strains of her mix playing from Chloe's room.

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

iii. 2017, Brooklyn, NY

It's apparently the warmest February in New York on record, but Beca is still fucking freezing.

The incessant chill envelops the air, and she pulls her coat closer to her. She's bundled under layers, but the radiator in their tiny little apartment is, as most things in it, almost completely busted.

Jesus Christ. It's cold.

Amy is convinced she's cold because she's moping, because she's sad about breaking up with Jesse.

Beca knows she isn't, and it's not just the long distance thing.

They'd given it a fair go, and it sucked that he got busier with classes and she tried to solve all of the music industry's problems as an associate producer, working hours trying to make tracks sound... sonically unrotten.

It's not just the long distance thing, because if Beca was honest with herself, it was probably a sign that when he told her that he was thinking of completing his studies in California, her immediate response was that of neutral indifference.

So, she is totally fine.

Beca hears Chloe singing softly before the door even opens, and she can hear it swing open too, and she knows Chloe is about to shrug her coat off —

"Don't bother, it's also cold in here," Beca says, from under the covers.

Then, her eyes track Chloe as she walks to the radiator —

"I checked, it's working. Supposedly."

"Aww." Chloe strides the distance — not that it's that long — and sits down on their shared bed. "You're so cute when you're grumpy."

"Aren't you freezing?" she chooses to deflect the comment, hugging herself petulantly. "Hey, how was your date with that guy at the clinic?"

Chloe hums noncommittally. "We went for coffee and he double-booked me with another girl."

"Dude. What a dick." Beca feels a flash of — annoyance? Chloe deserves the world. Chloe deserves everything she wants. "I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay though." Chloe smiles at her. It's that smile that Beca catches that she thinks it's just for her, but she's also a logical person who knows that Chloe has that ability to make people feel like they're the most important person in the world. "I've got all I need right here."

Warmth pools at Beca's stomach, and honestly. It's a nice change from the freezing.

It's 2 AM, and they're cuddling, because of course they are; because Chloe is warm; because Chloe is an embrace personified; because... Chloe.

Beca stirs awake, and she feels Chloe's breath tickle at the base of her neck. She shifts, not uncomfortably. Then, Chloe's hand drifts sleepily, and lands somewhere on Beca's hip.

And then.

There is a sudden, startling clarity in Beca's mind, knocking the figurative breath out of her. Her eyes fly open.

She loves Chloe.

And not in the same way where she loves the rest of her found family in the other Bellas.

Oh no, a voice sounds in her mind.

Oh, this is very bad, she thinks.

She can't believe how still she is right now, feeling the entire weight of Chloe's body in contact against her. Feeling her slow, steady breathing against her back. She's not even cold anymore.

Okay. So she loves her best friend. Cool, cool, very cool. That's totally fine. She can handle this.

Chloe's been such a fixture in her life, at every turn; in every note in between the downbeat and upbeat that is her life. Music is in Beca's veins, her whole life, but music flows right through Chloe. She's tucked warmly in the melody, a motif throughout the entire song.

Holy shit, Beca thinks. She's been in love with Chloe for so long, she doesn't even know when it started.

Okay, so. There's a weird spot on the ceiling, right? And Beca just keeps staring at it, because if she closes her eyes, she will feel Chloe's presence so keenly, pressed next to her.

She can't do anything with this knowledge. She can imagine it now, Chloe giving her a comforting hug but tells her, sorry Beca, I love you but not in that way.

It's five whole years of friendship, of Chloe by her side no matter what, and that is the one thing that she's got that she doesn't want to risk, just because she had this stupid revelation.

God. It's so stupid. It'll pass. Right?

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

iv. 2018, Los Angeles, CA

What is really fucking weird, even in the grand scheme of things, is journalists asking her if she's doing anything for Valentine's Day.

Which, like. First of all, Beca's not stupid, she knows it's a way to suss out her personal-slash-love life.

She's kept that pretty close to her chest for now.

But also, there's literally nothing to tell. She's not being defensive because there's something to hide away. Beca is knee-deep in work all the time, and she goes home to an apartment that feels too big for just herself. It's a big change from the entirely too cramped apartment in Brooklyn.

Sometimes she finds herself missing that very specific part of her life. Not the struggling and being unhappy doing work with no integrity, obviously. But Chloe is now a message and three hours ahead, instead of being a daily fixture in her apartment, and it leaves Beca feeling off-kilter.

But maybe that distance is a good thing, after... you know. Revelations.

Anyway.

Her work ethic doesn't stop rumors. She's linked to every guy available — and some not — every single time one of them likes her Instagram posts. She's pretty sure she's had at least two full relationships, according to the National Enquirer.

Theo gleefully sends her screenshots. She tells him to fuck off.

Chloe Look out, super star! I'm going to be in LA for a good friend's wedding in February!! If you think we're not going to hang, you're sorely mistaken.

Beca is busy, but she sure as hell isn't going to miss Chloe coming to LA.

Beca You have good friends outside of the Bellas? I am shocked, Beale.

Chloe Don't be jealous 😉

She's not. Not because of that, she catches herself thinking, and frowns at herself. Not because of anything, she decides. It's also exactly how she decides she doesn't have feelings for Chloe anymore, because Chloe is happy with Chicago, and Beca has work, and honestly? Best outcome out of every outcome possible.

Still, Beca offers up her apartment for the long-ish weekend that Chloe would be in town. She's not a monster, and Chloe has like, a mountain of student debt.

It's the least she could do.

(Beca thinks back to that first performance at the Citadel, just under a year ago. Thinks of all the nerves she's never felt before, while she's walking to the microphone. She's always had the girls on stage with her, but not this time. Her family would be seated in the front row, supporting her no matter how far she goes.

She gets to bring them up on stage this time, of course, but it's also a temporary balm and she knows it. But that's fine, she can figure that part out.

It's the after that smarts a little.

After the performance, after the event, after she feels that pit, growing and clawing from her stomach when she sees Chloe lock lips with Chicago.

After she walks away with Theo, trying her level best to carry on a conversation as if she's not affected by what she'd just seen; trying not to think of all the what-ifs.

After, on the plane back home, when she directs a small smile at Chloe's direction. If she's happy then she's happy for her.

It's the least she could do.)

Chloe's flight reaches the airport at 7 in the evening, and Beca's right there at LAX, waiting for her to emerge. She can see a couple of people with the big paparazzi cameras, training their lenses at her, but she doesn't care.

There's a flash of red as she sees Chloe running to her, and thankfully she catches her.

"Oh, I've missed you," Chloe says, so earnest and sincere as always; always, and Beca can hear her own heartbeat. She's almost worried that Chloe can too, like a traitorous Tell-Tale Heart.

"Yeah, well, regular sight for sore eyes, that's me." That's good, right? She hits jocularity right in the bullseye with that, as if she can't feel the top of her ears growing hot.

Chloe just laughs; like another kind of warmth. She draws her in again, hand rubbing up and down Beca's back.

Beca thinks she's stupid, for feeling like she's home.

They get to Beca's place, Chloe appraising the place appreciatively as she wheels her luggage in.

"This is already at least fifty times nicer than our little shoebox in Brooklyn," she observes, and Beca shrugs, a little embarrassed.

"I mean, the label's paying for it, and it's like, it's — it's ridiculous." There's a voice at the back of Beca's head repeating, our little shoebox, and she wants it to shut up.

But it is ridiculous. She has so much space, and two rooms; she sleeps in one and the other one is where she works. She's pretty sure she spends more time in the latter than she does the former.

"Anyway, uh, so here's my sort-of office, it's a bit of a mess right now." She waves her hand around (god, why is she using her hands so much) at the room with her equipment and instruments, before stepping to her bedroom door. "And here's the bedroom, which, like. You should take the bed. My couch pulls out and it's really comfortable?"

"Don't be silly," Chloe tells her, looking back at the king-sized bed. "We've slept in way more crowded spaces. This will be perfect."

Beca swallows, hard. Perfect.

Falling back into a routine with Chloe is scarily easy.

She's been here for less than three hours, and Beca's already back to being attuned to her. They put on some music in the background, she listens to Chloe talk so passionately about school and all the stuff she's learning, and Beca is so proud.

She brushes her teeth and changes into her pajamas after Chloe does, exactly like how they used to, and climbs into her bed.

"Oh, shoot, I almost forgot," Chloe's saying, and Beca cocks her head curiously to see what she's forgotten. Her best friend comes back with a box, and hands it over to her.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Bec. Also, I don't think flash drives are in fashion now," she winks. "So your Google Drive storage has been renewed, for all the audio files you need to back up. Don't worry, I didn't look at anything else."

"Wh — oh. Oh, right, Valentine's Day, gifts and all," Beca says, and looks at the box in her hand. "Wait, is this —"

"Chocolate from your favorite place in New York? Yessss," Chloe says, a laugh coloring her tone. She settles back into bed. "Not that you have a shortage of chocolate places here, but Amy reminded me of the time she ate most of the last box after how you were saving your favorite pieces, so I thought I'd bring some here for you."

Beca's heart clenches.

"Thanks, Chlo." She's pretty proud of how unwavering her voice is. "I miss it."

"It's been tough for me too, not having you in my orbit," Chloe says, bumping their shoulders together.

"Yeah? Must be extra tough, because Chicago's not around either." Then she's scrambling. "Not that I'm like, comparing myself to your boyfriend in any way."

She sees Chloe's mouth twist to the side. Beca's eyebrows knit together.

"Chlo?"

"He's not my boyfriend anymore." Chloe's words are slow, measured. Like she's afraid of setting something off.

Beca pauses, as she takes it all in.

"Oh. I mean — Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's been..." Beca sees Chloe's furrowed brows as she thinks. "Three months, almost. Just right before Christmas."

Beca thinks back to Christmas; to the group messages, the online gift cards and food deliveries made in each other's names. Nowhere in her memory exists this piece of information, and she's pretty sure she's not been that shitty of a friend to miss this.

It feels a little bit like being hurt, actually.

"Oookay," she says, licking her lips a little, letting the air out of her slowly. "Okay. Well. Good night, Chloe."

Beca can't fall asleep, and she's pretty sure she knows why. It's been an hour of staring at the ceiling, and she tries to will her stupid mind to shut down for the night.

She thinks Chloe must be asleep by now; her body clock must be three hours —

"Bec?"

Beca pauses for so long that she thinks Chloe might actually think she's asleep.

"Yeah."

She feels Chloe shift. "I want you to ask me."

Beca wants to be obtuse and frustrating; wants to pretend she doesn't know what she's talking about. Instead, the confusion and hurt win out.

She pushes herself up on her elbows, then into a sitting position. It doesn't feel like a conversation that they should have lying down. She waits for Chloe to do the same, before finding her voice and words.

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Chicago broke up?" Dimly lit by the street lights outside, Beca sees her shift in place, and she feels Chloe's hand reaching for hers. "I thought — well. You know. That we tell each other things."

Which is slightly rich, coming from her, she knows. But still.

Chloe sighs, just quietly. "Because I have feelings for someone else."

Beca blinks, taking that in. It's a weird feeling because she's simultaneously crushed and hopeful, and maybe it's the hour, or maybe it's Chloe's hand in hers, but as her eyes sweep across Chloe's face, Beca is emboldened.

She leans in, and time feels like it's slowing down as she closes the distance and presses her lips on Chloe's, roughly and then temperately.

Beca's not the most impulsive person. In the moments, though, when she is, they always leave her wondering if she'd done something stupid — like punching creepy middle-aged a cappella guys, like leaving in the middle of a fight, like pulling the girls up on stage during her solo set.

Like kissing Chloe Beale in her bed.

So she pulls back suddenly, as quickly as she had started it, an apology already stumbling out. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I just assumed, I'm so sor—"

Chloe makes a noise; something that sounds like no, her eyes so startlingly blue even in this light, and Beca freezes. She's sure her brain is working out some sort of rambling apology or excuse, maybe pass it off as a joke somehow?

But Chloe pulls her back in, both thumbs lightly touching Beca's cheekbones as she meets their lips again.

This second kiss is deeper, slower, more connected. It takes her breath away, as her hand curls at the back of Chloe's neck. Chloe tastes like mint and sweetness and sincerity, and a little like hopeless optimism on Beca's part.

A soft gasp escapes, and Chloe pulls away this time.

Beca has a tentative smile on her face, as she takes in a breath heavily; the questions written so plainly on her face.

Chloe's eyes shine.

"It's always been you, Beca."

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

v. 2020, Los Angeles, CA

Having your anniversary on Valentine's Day is good. And bad.

Mostly good, because it means that Beca has that to help keep herself honest and not forget it, because it's impossible to.

Also, she won't forget, but, you know. Just in case.

Bad, especially last year, because it fell right around the Grammys weekend, and apparently when you're nominated and win pretty much... every single category you're in, that's kind of a big fucking deal.

(It started with Best New Artist, and by the time she's on that stage a fourth time, she literally had no other words and nothing but so much gratitude.)

But yeah, so last year's Valentine's Day-slash-anniversary was overwhelming. People contacting her from all corners, wanting to congratulate her and get some sound bites; the internet pouring both support, and scathing critique on her and her music.

Beca wishes she could say she rose above it, that she was as cool as her publicist thinks her to be.

Instead, Chloe had to deal with her, a stressful human ball of anxiety and nerves. Amazing, wonderful, sweet Chloe, just happy to be around her during these exciting and utterly vulnerable times.

This year, though. This year she's older and wiser.

Hopefully.

This year, the day falls on a Friday, but they've decided to celebrate it the next day and through the weekend instead, because Chloe has a seminar she needs to attend for school, and Theo had packed Beca's entire day with a long meeting.

Key word: had.

At 7 AM, as she wakes up groggily and checks her phone, the invite has disappeared from her calendar, presumably rescheduled for some other time. She vaguely notes the message from Theo about entire teams not being available, and Beca's not going to question the reason why, because she's immediately looking up flights to Ithaca and books the first one out.

(I'm not private jet rich, dude. Also, carbon footprint. Text to Amy, because of course.)

Here's her plan:

She'll make a beeline to Chloe's apartment (Beca's been here plenty of times, in the past couple of years; met her friends here in Cornell, hung out with them, appreciated that they're her support circle while she's here), and she'll say something incredibly dorky, and Chloe will kiss her, and then, they will properly celebrate.

God, the things Chloe can do with her mouth; the sounds Beca can get her to make.

Beca doesn’t even bother squirming in the plane seat.

Chloe I have a surprise!!!

Whereeee are you? 🥰🥰🥰

Here's what happens instead:

Beca has to fly back home — noun, the place where she lives; noun, Chloe — because while she was spending six hours flying east, Chloe had done the same in the opposite direction; her seminar being canceled (something about the professor being sick?).

She can't believe it.

Okay, she can maybe believe it.

God, the Bellas are going to have a field day with this.

In the group chat, Chloe's taken a selfie of herself in Beca’s apartment and captioned it: I flew here a day early to surprise Beca, but she flew to Cornell instead to surprise me too 😂

Emily OMAG YOU GUYS that is SO CUTE!!!!!!

Beca reads Emily's text, shaking her head, knowing that this is the younger girl's version of restraint.

Flo One time I thought a guy was going to propose to his girlfriend on the plane, but turned out he was having a heart attack instead.

Jessica&Ashley #justsoulmatethings

Rush hour in LA is so horrible, and it's nearly 8 PM when she finally gets back to her apartment. She jogs all the way from the Lyft to her door.

Beca never jogs.

Her own door flings open, and she sees the smiling face of the woman she loves.

"Flying cross country for me is so romantic."

"You did that too," Beca points out, a small smirk on her face.

"Yeah, but you did it twice." Chloe beams, and kisses her again, and again.

#bechloe #pitch perfect #bechloe fic #beca stupid mitchell #and her working through her feelings #kinda #(also please validate me)#my fic

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leighistired · 4 years ago

Text

Out Loud

A Martin character study AO3 Link

“G’night mum, love you.”

“Make sure you put the trash out, don’t want it stinking up the house.”

At 12 it occurs to Martin, he can’t recall the last time his mother said “I love you” to him. She must have. He knows she loves him, so why can’t he remember her saying it? Was it before dad left? It can’t have been that long ago. He knows if he brings it up she’ll just tell him off for being silly so he just decides to not say it unless she says it first. She doesn’t say it.

“Look how nice our neighbor’s garden is,” she says instead. “If only we could have such a nice garden.”

“The neighbors hire a man-” Martin tries to explain. He had just done law maintenance over the weekend; he would have to bring up memory issues next time they saw a doctor.

“Aren’t you happy with how I provide for you?” She snaps. “Ever since your lousy father left us I have done my best even with my health and all you can talk about is getting a bloody gardener.”

“Sorry, mum,” he says. It’s better not to argue when she gets like this.

“Forget it. Just get me my tea.”

He goes and brews her a cup of Oolong tea. It’s far too bitter for his tastes but it’s all he buys when he does the shopping. Perhaps that was it, instead of saying she loved him she just provided for him.

Martin tells himself that until she gets too sick to work and begins needling him to get a job at 14. Suddenly he’s providing for her on top of school and everything else but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. She was just sick and the medication she was on made her tired most of the time so it wasn’t like he could expect her to be excited to see him; especially not when he’s the one bringing it to her.

“Is soup the only thing you buy?” She asks one evening when he brings her dinner.

“You didn’t have soup last night,” he reminds her patiently after a long day of school and work.

“Oh, so you think I’m ungrateful? I am your mother! I gave birth to you! You should be happy to take care of me!”

“It would be nice if you acted like a mum for once!” Martin snaps back. He regrets it as soon as he says it and doesn’t wait to hear her response. He leaves the house and sits in the park near his house for a long time and cries. Of course she loves him. It must be so hard on her to be stuck at home all day with no one to talk to and there he went snapping at her. She’s asleep by the time he comes home and neither of them mentions it in the morning.

Martin doesn’t know what he expects when he starts to transition. He hadn’t even called it a transition at first, he just likes how he looks with short hair, baggy clothes, and a sports bra. His mother disagrees. There are days she won’t even look at him and when she does it’s usually even worse.

“You cut your hair again,” she mentions one morning over breakfast. “Just when you were starting to look like a girl.”

“Yup,” Martin replies tight-lipped. He had been thinking it over for a while and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a girl. The way she says it hits him sharply. If she was never going to say “I love you” to a daughter, why would she say it to a son? He doesn’t bother coming out to her properly because he can already see the disgust on her face when he gets a proper binder.

When she decides to move into a full-time care facility, it’s almost a relief. He feels foolish for expecting her to say it when she leaves. He feels even more foolish when he says it in goodbye. The receptionist gives him a sympathetic look when she doesn’t say it back but the receptionist probably assumes his mother has memory issues and forgot who he was. She doesn’t. Still, he appreciates the gesture.

Dating is nearly impossible for most of his life. It’s easiest to blame his busy schedule; he doesn’t even have time for friends outside of school. The fact that no one even asks him out isn’t something he wants to think about. After he drops out of school and his mother leaves, dating and friendship don’t get any easier. He can’t let anyone he works with get close enough or they’ll find out his real age and utter lack of qualifications. Online dating is also out of the question for similar reasons. If one of his coworkers saw him with the age 19 in his profile they would either know he wasn’t actually 25 or they would think he was a creep and he didn’t exactly feel comfortable lying about his age to potential dates. Meeting people organically isn’t the worst thing in the world but it’s difficult. He makes a few passing friends at a local trans support group but even then, he can’t get close to anyone without risking someone discovering his falsified CV.

He doesn’t have his first real boyfriend until he’s 23 years old. They meet at a Holloween party thrown by a mutual acquaintance and date for almost five months before Martin ruins it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dominick, I love you,” Martin says as he serves dinner.

“Oh, uh, it’s a little fast to say that, don’t you think?” Dominick had stammered awkwardly. Was it? It didn’t seem like it to Martin and even if it was, it was true. He loved Dominick.

“I-I don’t think so,” Martin replies nervously. Some distant part of himself starts to berate him for being so needy.

“It kind of is. Let’s just pretend you never said it and we’ll see how we feel in a few more months, ok?”

“You mean we’ll see how you feel,” Martin says a little bitterly.

“Why can’t you just relax and enjoy the holiday?”

Martin had sighed in resignation and picked at the rest of his plate. They broke up a week later because Dominick felt like they were “looking for different things.”

Martin doesn’t have another serious boyfriend after that. He goes on a few more dates over the years but nothing that lasts longer than five months. Nothing that lasts long enough to say “I love you.” In some deep dark part of him, he wonders if he was ever meant for love. His father hadn’t loved him enough to stay, his mother hadn’t said she loved him in over a decade, and he’s not even sure he was in love with Dominick. He gets crushes, sure, but he just throws himself into his work at the Magnus Institute instead.

Working in the library isn’t bad. He gets along with his coworkers well enough but he can never get close to them. Not close enough to love them as friends or be loved in return.

Then he gets transferred to the Archives.

Jonathan Sims is not the first asshole boss Martin has ever had. He doesn’t understand why Mr. Bouchard sent him down to work in the Archive in the first place and his first impression with his new boss is less than stellar when a dog follows him into the building. It doesn’t help that Jon is good-looking and every once in a while Martin catches glimpses of a version of the Archivist without a stick up his ass. Like when he spends Martin’s ice cream birthday talking about emulsifiers. If only he would be clearer about what he actually wants from Martin. No report or follow-up seems to be good enough, even with the help of Tim and Sasha.

Martin works hard for Jon’s approval. He doesn’t know why he wants the recognition but it’s either this or quit and he really, really can’t quit. So he spends three full days looking for every woman named Angela over fifty in Bexley only to be berated for actually talking to one of them and then he offers to look into a case about spiders that clearly upsets Jon only to get trapped in his flat by a zombie worm woman.

When he finally escapes, he takes a few worm corpses with him and he dumps them on Jon’s desk while he’s in the middle of a statement. Let Jon try and disprove that When he gives his own statement he makes special emphasis on reminding Jon how hard he worked to meet his exacting standards. He refuses to be yelled at for this.

Except Jon believes him. More than believes him, in fact. He offers Martin a place to stay. Of course that would be enough to ignite a crush in Martin.

As soon as they get to document storage Martin sits on the cot and begins to cry with exhaustion. He expects Jon to leave but again he surprises him.

“I-it’s alright, Martin,” he says awkwardly as he pats Martin’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here and I’m certain Elias will respond promptly to my request for extra security.”

“Thanks,” Martin sniffs. He can’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person.

“Would...would you like me to stay until you fall asleep? If- if you think it will help.”

“Oh, er...no...I’ll be fine, thank you. You should be getting home, anyway. It’s Saturday, Jon.”

Martin blacks out as soon as Jon shuts the door to document storage. When he wakes up he finds his crush on Jon stubbornly still in place.

He can’t help himself after that. He starts taking special care of Jon in hopes of encouraging the kind man he saw that night into emerging. At the very least Jon doesn’t yell at him as much and he even thanks Martin for the tea he brings. It’s then that he notices other things about Jon, like how rattled he gets by certain statements and how he’ll often go an entire day without eating or drinking anything unless someone brings him something. That someone being Martin. He also notices how late Jon leaves, if he leaves at all.

It’s on one such night of Jon still being in his office at 11 o’clock that Martin knocks on Jon’s office door.

“Jon?” He calls gently.

“Hzzmt! Martin?” Jon responds, having been startled awake from dozing at his desk. “You should be asleep.”

“And you should be home.”

“I see your point,” Jon sighs. “I’ll finish up here and head home. Unless you need something?”

“Actually….I-I was thinking,” Martin beings. “Since I sort of kicked you off your cot...D’you want to come back to document storage with me? You know, get some sleep?”

“What?”

“Er...forget I-”

“The cot would be rather cramped with both of us,” Jon warns as he gets up from his desk. “If...if you’re sure you want me to join you.”

“Yeah...I thought you had work to do?”

“It can wait until morning, no use keeping you up longer than necessary.”

Martin only half regrets offering to share a bed with his crush. Jon was right, the only way to fit both of them on the cot is for both of them to sleep on their sides (or for Jon to sleep on top of Martin but even the thought has his face burning) and it’s difficult for him to fall asleep with Jon’s back pressed against his. It’s good to hear Jon fall asleep, though, and as time wears on it’s easier for Martin to goad Jon away from work to sleep a few hours.

The more of himself Jon reveals the harder Martin falls for him. Especially after Jon accuses him of being a ghost during the Prentiss attack. Even with the guilt Martin feels every time he looks at Jon mummified in bandages. That was Martin’s fault. If he had just paid more attention then he wouldn’t have lost Jon and Tim in the tunnels. He does everything he can to try and make up for it; despite Jon becoming more and more closed off by the day. Intellectually, Martin knows that Jon has gotten like that with everyone, but something deep down makes Martin feel like it’s his fault Jon’s gotten so cold. It doesn’t help that Jon seems to have gotten friendly with the policewoman investigating the murder of the previous Archivist. Tim even seems to think they’re having an affair which does wonders for Martin’s self-esteem. Jon wouldn’t be the first straight man Martin has ever had a crush on but Martin was pretty sure Jon wasn’t straight. Again, he wonders if he’s done something wrong to push Jon away.

After Jon stumbles out of his office covered in blood claiming to have had an accident with a bread knife Martin finds all the excuse he needs to regularly drag Jon to the canteen to make sure he eats something. The silences during those lunches are hard. They had eaten together before but now Jon wasn’t talking to him. The most Martin could get out of him were a few one-word answers. He tries not to think about how it reminds him of his mum.

“So,” he tries for the millionth time while Jon picks at his sandwich. “Did I tell you what happened while you were at physical therapy the other day?”

Jon doesn’t say anything but he looks up with a gaze that bores into Martin.

“Uh...A little girl came in alone with a statement, she must’ve only been eight years old,” Martin says. Jon looks at him with an expression that almost seems afraid. “Don’t worry, it recorded fine on digital. She walked right down into the Archive, walked up to my desk, and said ‘Excuse me. My name is Beatrice Walker and I’d like to make a statement about a supernatural occurrence.’ She sounded so grown up and she refused to leave until I had recorded her statement. Turns out her dad was using the library for research and she had just wandered off.”

“What was her statement about?” Jon asks to Martin’s surprise.

“Oh, a hamster with mysteriously changing spots.”

“Ah,” Jon replies thoughtfully. “Not much need for follow-up there, I suppose.”

“Not unless you really need me to track down the shop where her parents picked up the new hamster.”

He catches the briefest of smirks from Jon before the conversation dies again.

After that Jon’s coldness and paranoia comes out in the form of a screaming accusation over letters Jon found in the trash. Martin barely manages to make it to the bathroom before he bursts into tears after coming clean about his CV. Tim thankfully doesn’t check on him while he silently curses his taste in men. Jon doesn’t meet his eye for the next week in what he bitterly hopes is guilt. He does seem slightly more willing to talk with Martin at lunch, though.

Then Jon goes missing. After trying to get Martin and Tim to go home early because Jon was feeling under the weather; he disappears. Not before apparently bludgeoning someone with a pipe and isn’t that exactly what he and Tim need to see as soon as they get back from a two-week kidnapping by a spooky door monster?

With Sasha gone, Jon missing, and Melanie King being suddenly hired by Elias, whatever’s left of Martin’s relationship with Tim deteriorates. More so when Martin becomes the only one in the world to believe Jon could be innocent. It’s probably that that makes the police detective “investigating” Jon so actively hostile toward him. Apparently, people say he and Jon are “close” and that probably only means the lunch thing but he wants to imagine it’s something more. Like people are somehow picking up that Jon likes him back.

When Jon comes back to confront Elias it’s all Martin can think to do to fall back on his tea-making. He ducks into Jon’s office with a piping cup of the overly sweet tea he spent months perfecting to Jon’s taste and finds him with his face buried in his one non-bandaged hand.

“Jon?” He calls as gently as he can while he closes the door behind him. “I brought you some tea.”

It’s when Jon looks up that Martin notices the bloody mess down the front of his shirt.

“You’re hurt. Let me go get the first aid-”

“No!” Jon interrupts frantically. “Just...Could you just stay with me for a moment?”

Martin acquiesces and they sit side by side on the sofa in Jon’s office in silence until Jon starts sniffling into his tea. He offers Jon a hug and Jon all but dives into his chest to cry. It’s the saddest most broken thing Martin has ever heard and it’s all he can do not to pull Jon into his lap and curl around him protectively.

“Martin...I-I...I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. For Sasha and Prentiss and...and for the way I treated you. You didn’t….no one deserves that.”

“None of that was your fault and I sort of deserved it. I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” Jon insists before going back to quietly crying into Martin’s jumper. Martin doesn’t respond. He can’t recall the last time someone’s apologized to him. At least not like that. He’d been told off most of his life for not doing things up to people’s standards. A few people over the years had told him he didn’t deserve it but Jon was the first person to apologize. No wonder Martin was falling in love with him.

Damn it.

Cuddling doesn’t become a regular occurrence for them by any means but Jon begins doing more to seek Martin out after that. They eat lunch together more often and Martin stays up late to talk to Jon while he’s abroad. It drives home how deeply buried into Martin’s heart Jon has become. Especially after he comes back after going missing for a month and has the audacity to joke about being moisturized by a clown mannequin for a month.

He wonders if Jon feels the same way. Sometimes Jon will smile shyly at him, and he can almost believe that Jon would be interested in a relationship if the world wasn’t ending. The last time they speak before the Unknowing they’re in document storage.

“Are you ready?” Jon asks as he shifts nervously.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Martin signs. He heard what happened to Melanie. He knows what’s likely to happen to him. Some small part of him is screaming to just tell Jon his feelings like it’s the climax of an action movie.

“Stay safe,” Jon says.

“Come back,” Martin replies. Jon offers him a hug. It’s no movie kiss but it allows Martin to hold Jon as close as possible. Jon himself is hanging off of Martin’s neck and it feels like a final goodbye.

Then Elias confirms what Martin has always suspected deep down. That his mother never loved him or if there was a time when she did, she stopped when his father left. Even after everything. After he spent years taking care of her. After he had to quit school to care for her. All she ever saw was his father. All his transition did was to remind her further of how much he looked like his father’s son. At least it was worth it. To distract Elias so Melanie could find evidence to arrest him.

Then Peter Lukas shows up and reveals that Elias planned to get arrested. Worse than that, he offers Martin a promotion of sorts.

Then they get the news from Yarmouth. Tim’s body is found in a charred heap, Daisy is missing, and Jon is dead in all but brain activity. At least Basira is physically alive.

Martin spends as much time as he can next to Jon. He’s used to loving someone who can’t love him back. Maybe this is all he’s destined for. Love unrequited. He talks to Jon’s dreaming corpse. Tells him about his day, reads him poetry, even a statement, but nothing draws Jon out of his coma.

Then his mother dies. He barely has the emotional strength to mourn her. Instead, he scatters her ashes and mourns his childhood lost to trying impossibly to earn her love.

After the Flesh attacks, Martin makes a decision. He’ll join Lukas. It’ll probably lead to his death but what did that matter? His mother was gone and didn’t care about him anyway. Tim and Sasha were gone. Jon was basically gone. Basira and Melanie were the only people left that he vaguely cared about and by doing this he could at least protect them.

He visits Jon one last time in the hospital. He’s still covered in wires and his eyes still flit around violently behind his lids as Martin sits down next to him and takes his hand.

“Hey Jon,” he says quietly. “I...This is the last time I’m going to see you...Probably ever. I know, I know old dramatic Martin surely he’s exaggerating. I’m not. The Institute is in danger and...I have a way to keep Melanie and Basira a little safer, so I’m doing it. I just came by one last time to say...Jon, I...I love you. Goodbye.”

He gets up and presses a kiss on a part of Jon’s forehead not covered in wires before leaving. It’s alright that he doesn’t say it back. No one ever says it back to Martin.

When Jon wakes up everything becomes that much harder. Suddenly he had a reason to live and the way Jon pursues him makes him almost believe...No, even completing the thought would be dangerous for all of them. Jon trusts him enough not to be constantly badgering and that makes it worse. When Jon is there the Lonely makes Martin resent his presence and when Jon’s gone Martin resents his absence.

The final, most excruciating pain is when Jon comes after him in the Lonely. He’s excepted his fate in the chilling numbness of the Lonely. Maybe that’s why he says it. The certain, inevitable rejection would be numbed utterly. So he says it.

“I really loved you, you know?”

And Jon looks broken. Even after he rips Peter’s statement from him. Even when he reaches for Martin’s face with hands that seem far too warm and makes him See. Knowing Jon loves him isn’t like “knowing” his mother loves him. Instead of a lie born in Martin’s mind to stamp down the fear of rejection, it’s a reality pouring from Jon’s mind mingled with Jon’s fears of rejection.

Jon’s hands still feel too warm compared to the icy chill of the Lonely as he leads Martin out. Still, he refuses to let go all the way through the tunnels, the Institute, talking to Basira, packing at each other’s flats, and on to the train. The way to Daisy’s safe house feels like a blur and when they finally arrive it’s all Martin can do to remember to take off his binder before collapsing into bed with Jon’s warm arms around him.

He wakes to Jon’s quiet crying. The awful, stifled thing that breaks Martin’s heart.

“Jon,” he whispers.

“Martin? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Jon,” he assures as he swaps their positions so Jon is tucked firmly against him. Jon makes another broken noise and Martin can’t stop himself from crying, too.

“I-I’m here, Martin. You aren’t on your own,” Jon soothes and Martin almost has to laugh. They lay crying and comforting each other until they both fall back asleep.

When they wake up properly they take stock of the safe house’s pantry and make a list of things to pick up in the village after breakfast. Martin gives in to the temptation to buy a new notebook to try and write poetry in. They have enough canned food to survive to the next ice age so they pick up perishable items like milk, bread, butter, and eggs. Jon also picks up fresh peaches and a box of Martin’s preferred tea. It’s easy to pretend like they going on a normal shopping trip as they walk up and down the aisles to check things off their list.

They return to the cabin and settle in. Martin sits on the sofa and tries to write out a poem while Jon tries to read a book from Daisy’s personal collection. After a while, Martin beings to feel Jon’s gaze on him.

“Is there something on my face?” He tries casually as he’s met with an expression he’s never been on the receiving end of.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Jon sighs. Martin can’t stop the noise that comes out of him. All his life trying to earn love and Jon just says it while Martin’s thinking of a synonym for ‘yellow.’

“I-I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” Jon says quickly, his soft expression suddenly turning worried.

“But I do.”

“Oh…Oh!”

“Yeah.”

Jon starts giggling and it’s impossible for Martin not to follow suit until happy tears stream down both of their faces.

#the magnus archives #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jonathan sims #I wrote a fic #this was supposed to be posted on valentines day

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