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lilith-of-rivia · 4 years ago

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The Bards Sister Geralt XFemale!Reader Part 1

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Masterlist

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadnt seen since she was 5. The journal is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. I know i am trash at summaries.

Trigger warnings: NONE a lot of Geralt and Jaskier in this first part. Your charicter doesn’t come in till closer to the end.

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,095 longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!

A/N: hello my loves!!! I got my Insperation back!! I’m hopping i will be regularly posting agin!!! I ove you all so much you consistent love and supoort has not gone unnoticed. The constant likes and reblogs truly means the world to me. I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for believing in my writing the way you do. All my love -Lilith ps. I have reviewed and edited but I will be doing a more in-depth review soon!

“Where are we going, Jaskier.” The Witcher’s brooding voice echoed threw the flowered valley. His horse trotted not far behind his companion. Jaskier looked back at him and just rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you led me on endless roads, towards the middle of nowhere speaking little to no words to me no matter how much I ask?” Geralt said nothing. Jaskier snorted looking back towards the road.

“Exactly. No shut up, your brooding is giving me a headache.” The bard was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine. The idea that Jaskier was leading him to somewhere he had no idea of the location, made him uneasy. Did he trust his bard? Absolutely without a doubt. Would he ever admit it to him? No never.

Their travels continued till the sun was barely hanging in the sky. The air had grown crisp replacing the harsh burning of the full summer sun. Jaskier pulled his mare to the side of the road, climbing off her, tying her to a tree. Geralt followed, realizing they were stopping for the day.

“We still have a couple hours of daylight left.” Geralt said as he took Roach’s saddle and tack off.

“We don't need a couple hours, we are nearly there. Maybe an hour and half.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier.

“Then why did we stop?” Jaskier pulled his saddle bags off his horse, putting them beside a log as he gathered some sticks for the fire.

“Because I have to debrief you as to who we are going to see and you must bathe before we do so. The stream here will do the trick.”

“Gods Jaskier, will you just tell me where we are going? The secrecy is bullshit.” The broot of a man was losing his patience with his friend.

The duo had been on the trip for nearly two weeks. They left Tramieria and headed east. Much further east than Geralt could ever remember traveling. Yet the bard seemed to know exactly what turns to take and when. The closer they drew to their destination the more the witcher could hear his heart beat faster.

“Jaskier if this is some stupid plot for me to protect you from some man who’s wife you slept with again-“

“It's not Geralt-“ Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose, his stress causing a minor headache. “Just go bathe then I’ll tell you everything.” Geralt studied his friend, his eyes searching his face, his ears tuning into his heart beat trying his best to figure out what he was getting himself into.

With a low grunt the witcher grabbed his last set of clean clothes and the bar of soap from the bard's hand before stomping off to the river.

“Clean EVERYTHING!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder. Only getting an unfriendly finger in return.

Nearly an hour later, the sun was completely hidden behind the canyon, the glow of the fire Jaskier started illuminating their small camp. Jaskier’s fingers strummed mindlessly at his lute, his eyes fixed on the stars that were making their presence known more, humming to himself softly. He heard his friends footsteps as he approached, his hair was wet at his shoulders. A fresh white Cotton tunic hugged his muscular build, black trousers hugging his legs. He smiled nice for once. All thanks to the lavender and honey soap Jaskier had received as a gift.

“Now don't you look better.” Jaskier said with a chuckle. The witcher sat down across the fire from him, his golden eyes staring heavily at the bard.

“Spill your guts Jaskier.” Jaskier rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. His eyes looking anywhere but at his friend.

“I haven't been completely forward about my family life.” Jaskier’s eyes landed on the moon above them. It was nearly full, he was doing well with time. He knew they would reach their destination well before the next full moon.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s harsh voice broke the silence. With a loud sigh Jaskier finally looked his friend in the face.

“I’m royalty Geralt.” The Witcher’s expression did not change. He just looked at his friend. He could hear Jaskier's heart beat become uneven and unsteady. At first he thought it was a joke but the nervous energy radiating from his long time friend made him think better.

“My family, they are wonderful people. My mother, bless her, taught me everything I needed to know about writing and music. Convinced my father to let me train at Oxenfurt Academy. My father is a noble and loyal king. He served our people well. Still does to my knowledge. I haven't been back in nearly 20 years…” the bard trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hands, his fingers twildilling with a ring he had on. The ring was that of his family. Their crest engraved into the gold.

“I was never meant to be a noble. I lived for adventure, for more than just sitting on a throne and watching people come and go. I was never fit to be king. My parents knew that. They understood. Understanding people they are.” His voice trailed off again, hopping his friend would say something. Ask a question. Anything. He didn’t know where to go next.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Geralt finally asked.

“Because it never came up. My family never needed me. I never needed them. I love them all dearly of course. But we were never the closest people in the world. Well, my sister and I were.” That caught the Witcher’s attention. His eyes narrow slightly, he made sure to not let his expression scare the bard into not telling him more. He was genuinely curious about his family. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed that in the 7 years they traveled together he never heard of them.

“You have a sister?” The bard's eyes lit up. His memory raced with images of his tun little sister chasing him around the courtyard screaming, yelling his name. Her giggles and laughs pulling at his heart strings.

“Yes. Her name is (Y/N). She is about to be 25. Big age for a princess. I havnt seen her since she was very little.” His heart started to break softly. His neglect to his baby sitter weighting heavily on him.

“I write her often, as much as I can. She was...well, a surprise to my parents to say the least. I was 15 when she was born. I left home at 20. I was only around for her toddler years. I never got to see her grow, blossom into a young woman. I missed so much.” Jaskier had to fight back the tears, his throat becoming tight and dry. His body filling with regret.

“I just kept pushing it back Geralt. I alwasy said I’d make it home. I alwasy had it in the back of my mind to go back and see her. But I never did.”

“Why now?” Geralt asked.

“She wrote me a few months back. It was nearly a book. It was filled with tales of her new travels around our country. She had been training heavily with an unmanned matester of combat. She traveled the countryside with the man. She referred to him as an uncle. In the letter she asked me if it was true that I’d been traveling with you. She said the songs and tales of Jaskier the Bard traveling with the White Wolf made it to her ears.” Jaskier stopped talking for a brief moment, rummaged around his rut sack and pulled out a notebook. He untied its string and a large pile of papers fell out into his hand. He unfolded the parchment and scanned the writing.

“I wrote her back that week. Only to receive this in return.” He began to read;

“Oh dear Jaskier!! I cannot believe its true. I thought he was only a legend. The white wolf. Please tell him he is a hero here. We love his stories. Many have written books of him. Children run round calling themselves the butcher of Blaviken here to save the damsel and distress. I love his stories, mainly because they involve you. Please come visit me this year. I miss you terribly. I want to hear of your travels with the wolf. Mother said he is more than welcome to stay if he wishes to travel with you. I do miss you Jaskier. More than I think you know. I do not mean to guilt you or make you feel bad as i know you are traveling the world to your heart's content and would never want you to feel as though I do not support you-“ Jaskier stopped reading for a brief moment. A small tear dripped onto the page he was reading. Geralt listened to every word he read. He couldn't help the small tug of his lips when he read about the children pretending to be him. It was a breath of fresh air for the witcher. He had constantly been told he was a monster. To hid your children from him. Yet here was an entire country that loved him, yet he had no idea. Jaskier cleared his throat and continued. “But i miss my brother. And maybe, just maybe. I could come with you. If you deem me fit. I have been working tirelessly with a friend of fathers. He trains me in not only swordsmanship, but Herbology, and monsters as well. I can name nearly every monster that has inhabited the Continent and how to slay it. He thinks I’m ready to leave the nest and I think mother and father are getting a bit tired of me as well. I cannot stand another somber, dull, dinner party with nobles who look at me like a piece of meat. So please. Visit me soon. Come and stay a few days. Catch up with your dear sister and maybe, if he isn't too busy and if it doesn’t inconvenience him, bring the Wolf with you. He’d be a welcomed hero. All my love dear brother. Xoxo Love always, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz

Jaskier folded the letter, placing it inside his notebook before safely storing it inside his sack again. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moving from his hands to his best friend. They sat in the silence for a while. Geralt’s brain replaying the words he had heard from his friend.

“You could have told me about her Jaskier. Why didn't you? You’ve been in contact with her all this time, planning to see her and your family again. Bringing me along for the ride, yet not a single word in 7 years. Do you not trust me with such a secret Jaskier?” Jaskier was taken aback by his friend's words.

He never knew his secrecy would have such an impact on his friend. When it came to Geralt he learned long ago, the little words, the better. The witcher can only handle so much before he loses interest and stops listening or walks away. He never in a million years would have thought he cared about his life that much. It warmed the bards heart to know his dear friend, the only brother he ever had, cared that deeply for him.

“It has nothing to do with not trusting you Geralt. Is has everything to do with the shame I hold for not seeing her sooner. For treating her like a dirty secret form the world. There is no logical reason for me to keep my family such a big secret. Yet I have. For 20 years.” Geralt’s hands rubbed together softly as he listened to his friend. He understood the secrecy. He was a box full of secrets that nobody could get into.

“Its okay Jaskier. I understand the secrecy. Is that where we are going tomorrow?” Jaskier nodded, a smile appearing on his face.

“Her birthday is the next full moon. I’m hoping my gift will be a good start in time lost.” Geralt looked at him curiously. He hadn't noticed any major item in Jaskier’s possession that could make a good gift for a young princess.

“You’re her gift Geralt. I wrote her back after that letter and told her I’d be back for her next birthday. But that you simply were to busy with your work. I told her that you greatly appreciated her support and that youd consider writing to her in the future. She has no idea your coming with me.” Geralt didnt know how he felt about being a gift. He never ever saw himself as a gift to anyone. More of a burden the a gift. He shook his head at Jaskier and tutted at him.

“Jaskier if your that broke you could’ve asked me for a few extra coins for a real gift.” The witcher attempted to joke with the bard. It made Jaskier smile more. Geralt could be funny, but his humor was incredibly dry, much like Jaskier’s father.

“Geralt! Did you just try and joke around with me??” Geralt rolled his eyes, laying down stretching his muscles as he looked up at the starts.

“Best get some sleep Jaskier, you’ve got a rather big family reunion tomorrow.”

The next morning Jaskier was up and awake before Geralt, a rare sight. He truly hadn't slept more than a couple hours that night. His nerves kept him awake. He feared his sister wouldn’t be as loving as he pictured, she had every right to be mad at him, hate him even. By the time Geralt was up, Jaskier had bathed, changed and had his horse completely ready to go.

Geralt had to do everything in his power to not laugh at his friend. He looked rather ridiculous. His normal bright attire was replaced with a royals outfit. A green and blue velvet tunic and some extremely uncomfortable looking black trousers. His hair was combed back and his face was freshly washed. He even cleaned under his fingernails. He looked rather ridiculous in Geralt’s opinion. He couldn't help the low chuckle that left his lips as he put his bed roll away.

“I don't understand why you're laughing. I have some clothes for you to put on as well.” Geralt’s expression changed instantly, from humorous to angry.

“No. Absolutely not. What I’m wearing is perfectly fine. I’d wear it to meet any king or queen.” A bag was chucked at him, he barely caught it before it smacked into his face.

“This isn't any normal king and queen Geralt. This is my family. And besides, you are no ordinary witcher in my kingdom, you’ll be treated as royalty there. You may as well look the part.” Geralt huffed and threw the bag of clothes back at his friends feet, glaring daggers at him. He hated dressing up with a burning passion. Everything was too tight, not easy to fight in. If anything happened he’d have to rip the seams on every piece of clothing to be able to maneuver his weapons properly. And fancy clothes dont have space for weapons. He didn't like that one bit. Jaskier looked at his friend. His eyes pleading with him.

“Please Geralt. Just for today and her birthday. I couldn't care less what you wear at any other point on this trip.” He had walked closer to Geralt now. About a meter away from him. He extended his hand, the bag in his hand. Geralt looked from the bag to his friend. His teeth and jaw clenched.

He let out a loud huff and grabbed the bag from the bard.

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth and began taking off his clothing. Jaskier smiled before turning his attention to Roach, getting her stalled and tacked so when Geralt was dressed they could leave.

“If we move with a bit of a haste we could make it there before breakfast.” Jaskier said as he mounted his horse, looking at his friend. His hand slapped over his face. The witcher looked utterly ridiculous in his new attire. The bright red and orange vest a-top a cream tunic, his legs tight in some disgustingly ugly corduroy pants. The pants were obviously smaller than the seamstress he bought them off claimed them to be. The ends of the pants came nearly mid calf on Geralt’s legs. His pasty white ankles and feet shining in the early morning sun.

“Jesus Geralt. Those are worse than the ones I got for Pavetta’s party.” The bard could no longer hold in his laughter. Did Gerarlt look like a nobleman? Sure, but his size, white hair, and bright yellow eyes really didn't help the situation.

“Jaskier, I will kill you for this.” Geralt grumbled angered as he pulled his socks up his feet and over his calves. Luckily for him (and Jaskier) his boots went higher than his pants, making it harder to notice that the pants he was wearing were way too small.

“At least I’m not making you wear a big hat with a feather, those are truly hideous.” Geralt mounted Roach, more carefully then he normally does in fear his pants could bust at the seams.

“I had to wrap you up nice and pretty to present you to my sister.” Jaskier commented as he led his horse; Napoleon to the main road, Geralt and Roach in tow.

The two men rode in a comfortable silence for some time, but as they got closer and closer to Jaskier’s home, all Geralt could hear was his frantic heartbeat. Jaskier’s palms get sweaty and his throat dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his water skin.

“Jaskier. You need to calm down. Your fucking heart beat is driving me insane.” Geralt hissed. They could see the end of the valley they had been traveling in. Geralt looked out in the distance, his eyes saw the castle first. It was very far, but he could tell how beautiful it was from where they were.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t listen to it then.” Jaskier barked back.

“You know I have no control over it, idiot. Take a deep breath. I know you're scared, I understand. But from the sounds of it your sister desperately misses you, I don't think she would ask you to come see her if she was going to hate you.” Geralt didn't talk much at all, that everyone knew. He was a man of few words. But when he did speak it was wiser than most people ever expected. People tended to forget the age of the white haired man, as he stopped ageing physically in his late twenties.

Jaskier smiled softly at his friend's words, he listened to him and took a few deep breaths, calling himself down. Geralt was right. His sister seemed eager as ever to see him again.

The two men approached the entrance to the city. Geralt was more than shocked. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a city so beautiful in his entire life. The streets were lined in beautiful stone, flowers, vines, greenery all around every corner. The banners that were hanging on the outside of the main gates caught Geralt’s eyes. The crests on them were brightly colored in greens and blues, a very large diamond in the center. Their horses rode into the entrance of the town. Jaskier’s heart was calm, steady, his face was bright and had a smile Geralt had never seen on him before. He was finally home.

“Welcome to Inritha (In-Rithe-A) the capital of Unthya (Un-The-A) Geralt. Welcome to my home.”

Their horses traveled down the stone brick road slowly, the city was buzzing already even with it being the early hours of the morning. Geralt was surprised to see everyone look so...happy, care free. Enjoying their lives. They looked as though nothing was a fret, no monster looming. Geralt was mesmerized by the city. The buildings were built out of what looked to him like limestone, a building material he so rarely saw in other parts of the Continent. The buildings were being taken over by vines and moss, flowers all over. He’d never seen so many butterflies in his life.

“Jaskier-'' his voice was barely a whisper, the bard turning to look at him as they rode side by side. Jaskier couldn't help but smile as his friend admired the beauty he himself had so easily forgotten over the years.

“I know, it's beautiful. I've forgotten myself.”

The two men continued riding their horses up the road closer and closer to the castle. The longer they road tho more attention they got from passer buys. Geralt could hear their whispers.

It couldn't be. Could it?

THE Geralt of Rivia? Here in Inritha?

Mummy look! It's the butcher!!

Has Prince Jaskier finally returned home?

For the first time in what seemed like his entire life, the hushed whispers Geralt heard as he rode through a city were not of hate and disgust. But of admiration and curiosity. The entire time Geralt and Jaskier rode through the city, he never once had the urge to grab either of his swords that were at his side.

The two men approached the gates of the castle, four armored guards stood outside. The put their hand up in motion for the men to stop. One who looked as tho to be the commander of sorts stepped forward poking between both men. Eyes lingering for a long while on the two.

“State your name and what business you have in Inritha at this early hour.” Jaskier dismounted his horse, waking a few feet forward.

“My name is Jaskier Alfred Pankratz son of Dastrill and Alvere Pankratz. This is my companion Geralt Of Rivia, we are here on behalf of my sister, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz’s 25th birthday.” Jaskier bowed his head lowly, keeping eye contact with the commander in front of him.

“Prince Jaskier?!?” The man clearly looked flustered and embarrassed for not recognizing the prince of his own kingdom. All four men quickly bowed their heads.

“Please accept my apology your highness, we welcome you home. As do we welcome your honored guest.” Jaskier smiled and told the men to not trouble themselves with an apology. Geralt continued to watch from atop Roach, still not use to being idolized instead of feared. Honored guest. Geralt thought to himself. He could get use to the new treatment. Jaskier remounted Napoleon the gates to the castle walls opening. The both road threw, all four men bowed their heads as the two walked threw. Not once did they threaten Geralt’s life. They were led by a guard to the stables where they left their horses.

Geralt could hear Jaskier heart beating again in his chest as they were led inside the castle. Geralt tried to concentrate on his friend, to be there for him but he couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over the castle's walls, it was a bright exterior. The walls polished, candles everywhere. Large windows allowing for natural lighting. Nothing dark or gloomy about the castle at all. He felt uplifted..cheary almost. As they neared the entrance to the grand hall where the King, Queen, Princess along with some others were. Geralt could hear the light conversation, and the clicking of silver on plates, they were eating breakfast. But he could still hear Jaskier’s heart beating in his chest. Geralt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder as they walked, giving it a soft squeeze. The action made Jaskier more worried if the witcher was feeling alright, as it was abnormally out of character for the man. But he said nothing, appreciating the gesture.

They got to the door and just as the guard was about to push the doors open Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Could we maybe skip the loud over dramatic announcements of my arrival? I have not seen my family in years.” The guard only nodded, bowed his head and walked back outside to his post. Jaskier looked over at his friend, as he put his hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Now or never.” Jaskier said as he opened the door. Both men walked into the large room, the talking stopped almost instantly. Geralt stood at the door, not wanting to impose on the important reunion of his friend and his family. He followed Jaskiers gaze to the table ahead of them in the front of the room. The room was lined with huge floor to ceiling windows, the light of the early morning sun shone brightly making the marble floors glisten.

“JASKIER!!!” The loud scream of a girl nearly made Geralt jump out of his skin, his hand reaching back for a sword that wasn't there in instinct.

It made Jaskier jump but the smile that covered his face was even bigger than the one he had seen as he walked through the city. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze to a young woman. The sight of her alone made Geralt want to pass out. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. Her hair was the same chestnut brown that Jaskier had, but it was long, hip length. She had it pulled back slightly out of her face, a few baby hairs framed her face. Oh her face. Geralt thought as though he was looking at a living breathing angel. He heard her chair scrape roughly on the ground before it loudly crashed on the floor. She raced around the long table from her mothers side and sprinted to her brother. She practically threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, stumbling back a few steps. Everything was quite as the two embraced. Geralt's eyes went to the king and queen who were now standing. The queen looked just like (Y/N) but her hair was black, long stripes of grey peeking through her hair. The crown atop her head glistened in the light. Her right hand was tightly around her husband's arm, her other hand placed softly over her mouth as she looked at her children. Her husband looked much like Jaskier. His hair was the same color as both of their children, but much like his wife’s, much of it had turned grey. His eyes were the same cornflower blue that Jaskier had.

Minutes passed in silence before Jaskier put his hands on his sisters shoulders, pulling her away from him. He put one hand on her cheek as he examined her features. Her pale cheeks were damp with tears. But not sad tears. Tears of joy.

“My sister, how you’ve grown.” Geralt could hear the tears in the bard's voice. He couldn't see him but he could hear everything.

(Y/N) fingers gently brushed over her brother’s face as she smiled at him.

“My brother, how you haven't aged a day. You look just as I remember you. Maybe a few more wrinkles.” She teased. He laughed softly. Wiping his eyes with his hand before pulling her into another bone crushing embrace. She was much shorter than Jaskier, barely shoulder level with him. Geralt was shocked to remember she would be turning 25 in two days. She was still young in the face, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to see her more up close.

While the siblings spoke their parents moved from the spots at the table, standing behind (Y/N). Alvere was the first to pull him into a tight embrace after her daughter let go. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as she inhaled his scent deeply.

“My dear son how I've missed you.” She whispers slowly into his ear. Geralt was starting to feel bad for eavesdropping. Not that he could help it. He was still standing at the entrance to the grand hall yet he could hear everything.

Jaskiers father hugged him next, it was not nearly as long as the outer two but both men were okay with it. Understanding that their relationship had never been one for long father son hugs.

“It is good to see you again my boy.” His hand clasped down on his son's shoulder.

The four of them stood close together, smiling more than Geralt ever thought possible. It almost made his heart turn. Deep, deep, deep, down the witcher longed for a family that would look at him the way they looked at Jaskier. He often cured the universe for not giving him an option when it came to what he had become. He clung to the few memories he had of his mother. But as years passed they became harder and harder to remember, more painful. But he had. Made a new sort of family over the years. From Jaskier, to his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“(Y/N), mum, dad, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” Jaskier turned his head towards the door to the hall. Geralt stood tall, shoulders pressed back, his hair framed his face gracefully. Even in the entirely ugly attire he was in, he made himself as presentable and as proper as possible. (Y/N)’s eyes grew bigger when her eyes met his. He once again was taken aback by her beauty. Her eyes were a powerful emerald green matching similarly to the color of her brother's tunic, but brighter. Her mouth fell slightly agape when she realized who it was. The eyes were a dead give away that he was in fact a witcher, but once she saw the silver medallion that rested on his chest, she knew.

Jaskier nodded his head for Geralt to walk forward and he did, his footsteps were light, his pace slow and steady as he walked closer to the royal family. (Y/N)’s hand gently covered her mouth in excitement. Her eyes flickering to her brother who grinned at her.

“A bit of an early birthday gift.” He winked. Once Geralt was closer to the group Jaskier turned so he could introduce them, at his sister's side. All eyes were on him. Even the few people who were still seated at the table were looking at him. He started to feel a bit more uneasy. He started to remember how far away his swords were if he needed them. This alone was beginning to make him panic. He was not used to being welcomed into royal courts unless it was specifically for a hunt.

“This is Geralt of Rivia, one of the most feared, renowned, and skilled Witcher’s the content has to offer. And also my best friend.”

Geralt's eyes were back on (Y/N)’s, his worries dropped more when she smiled brightly at him. Her eyes gleamed.

Geralt bowed his head to the three of them, “ it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highnesses.” (Y/N) was nearly blown over by the sultry sound of his voice. She had only heard stories of the witcher. Never see him for herself and definitely had never heard him speak. She never expected a monster hunter to be as handsome as he was. She admired every feature he had. Her eyes fixating on his chiseled jawline, the light gray stubble across his chin and cheeks.

“My, what a pleasure it is to meet such a famed warrior as yourself Geralt!” The king spoke before (Y/N) could, which she was happy about as she did not trust her voice to not waver at his beauty in that moment.

“You my dear are very popular around here. Your stories are legendary. The school children even host yearly plays, Reenacting your most beloved stories.” (Y/N)’s mother added her finger pointing light hardly at Geralt. Her hand came out gracefully from her side to shake the Witcher’s hand. He gently took it, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His attention returned to (Y/N).

“I’m terribly sorry I’m the birthday gift from your brother this year.” She shook her head almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do not be sorry Geralt-'' the way she said his name made him feel as though he could keel over. “I would like to thank you, for protecting my brother for the years you have. He never skips on his gratitude for you in his letter to me. For that we are all eternally grateful for you.” She reached her hand out. Geralt wasted no time in grabbing her hand, shaking it gently. He was dying inside, but he couldn't let her or anyone else see. He took a gentle step towards her, his head lowering softly, his soft lips were placed on the back of her small hand. The small action made the young girls' faces burn red. Her eyes flicked to her brother who smugly smiled, knowing danm well his gift was going to take the cake.

“Well, you both should come join us, we just started eating.” The king said with a smile, with a quick wave of his hand two more places we set.

(Y/N) gently removed her hand from Geralt’s. Walking towards the table, both men in tow. As she reached her spot she moved her plate and glass to the middle seat that had been prepared, leaving Jaskier a seat next to their mother and Geralt a seat next to her. They all sat and waited as food was served to them. (Y/N) could feel Geralt watching her as she ate, her brother deep in conversation with her parents about his most recent travels. But she wasnt listening. Her attention was only on the man seated to her left. She looked over at the man, eyed him up and down then turned to her brother. For the first time she noticed how ugly their attire was.

“Gods Jaskier who dressed you two?” She asked as she sipped her orange juice. Both men looked at her. Jaskier looked a bit hurt and Geralt only snorted.

“I told him the clothes were horrendous.” Geralt said beside the young woman making her giggle. The sound made his heart beat faster. This was also when he realized how sensibly everyone else in the room was dressed, and how much they stood out. (Y/N) was in a thin white cotton dress, it was around knee length and a light sweater was on her shoulders. Her mother and father dressed similarly. Their clothes looking normal, comfortable.

“Oh my dear brother. What have you done to the poor witcher.” She laughed, turning her attention to him. She could see how uncomfortable the clothes made him. The vest was way too tight and he was practically bursting out of his pants, not that she minded, she gladly enjoyed the view.

“He is torturing me. That's what.” Geralt scoffed and she couldn't help but giggle again.

“You're so dramatic Geralt it's truly not that bad.” Her head flicked to her brother.

“Jaskier don't be rude.” She tutted him like a mother, it made Geralt snort under his breath as he took a bite of his eggs. She stood and walked behind him. He was stiff at her movements.

“Do you mind?” Her fingers were on the strings of the vest. He shook his head no and she quickly untied the tight strings, and it fell from his shoulders. She took it off and handed it to one of the maids

“You can burn that horridly ugly thing.” She said as she sat back down.

“I do not remember you being so rude, little sister.” Jaskier quipped.

“What I think is rude is how you made sure you got the more presentable clothing and dressed your poor friend in those horrendous colors. Have you seen his pants, Jaskier?? It's a miracle he can still breath.” Her eyes looked towards the witcher who was already looking at her with a cocky smirk on his face, glad she was putting Jaskier in his place for the ugly outfit choice.

“I can take you to the seamstress later today, if you’d like Geralt.” Her smile was like a drug.

“I’d appreciate that m'lady.” He said softly.

“And I can show you around the city, both of you. But in return I would like to hear some of your stories, first hand if that’s doable.”

“That sounds like a reasonable trade.” Geralt quipped back.

“Then it's a date, Witcher.”

“A date it is.”

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jaimesam · 3 years ago

Text

Sawtooth

We woke up on the morning of our fourth day in the Sawtooth wilderness feeling spry. It can take a day, or two, or three before the rhythm of backpacking— wake up, wolf down some instant oatmeal, slurp up some instant coffee, shoulder a 35 pound pack and start the day’s climb—begins to feel right. This was our morning.

A miracle: the skies had truly cleared of wildfire smoke for the first time since setting off from Grandjean. Good timing, too: our day ahead would be perhaps the best of the trip — up and over Cramer Pass, beneath “The Temple,” down past the Cramer Lakes and up again to Alpine Lake, reputedly a gem. We hit the trail with bounce in our step.

Three, four, five miles into our hike we were still having fun, even as we began to wonder — was it possible that Hidden Lake was, in fact, so hidden that we wouldn’t see it from the trail? When would we hit the killer climb up to Cramer Pass? Slogging through overgrown brush and clambering over deadfall — all of which felt oddly familiar — we encountered a group of five friendly outdoorsmen from Seattle.

“Morning.”

“Afternoon.”

“Am I right that we’ve got a climb ahead?”

“Oh no, it’s all downhill from here.”

“Hmm.”

“Where are you trying to get to?”

“Well we were aiming for Cramer Lakes…”

“Oh you’re a long way from there. This trail goes down to Grandjean.”

“Oh my god.”

Jaime caught up.

“We took a wrong turn.”

“I thought so.”

“It’s a bad one.”

“How bad?”

“The good news is that we’ve been making great time. Covered a lot of miles.”

“And?”

“That lake was Elk Lake. This is the trail we hiked in on our first day.”

“How…”

“Five miles ago. Missed a turn.”

“God damn it.”

“Actually more like five and a half.”

Oh yes, there were signs. Including literal signs made of actual wood. Two of which we somehow blew blindly past, and a third: seen but egregiously misinterpreted. Also the creek we had crossed thrice, which, had we been paying close attention, we might have noticed was flowing in the wrong direction. Or beautiful Smith Falls, which we had passed two days before. Or the 2.4 miles of the South Fork of the Payette Trail we had hiked on day one — the most grueling and unattractive stretch of trail we had yet encountered — you would think we might have realized something was amiss. And yet.

“We could just hike out.”

“It would be eleven more miles.”

“So we backtrack.”

“Five and a half. Uphill.”

“We’re spending an extra night out here, aren’t we?”

“I think so.”

“Do we have extra food?”

“We have enough food.”

“I hate this.”

So we backtracked. An eleven mile detour, all told, with 1500 feet of elevation lost and then gained agin, for no reason, on unremarkable, overgrown, valley trails with views of nothing but dense forest, overgrown with scrubby mountain brush. The last few miles, a steady and grueling climb, brought us back to where we had missed our first sign, six hours before. We collapsed at the intersection, refilled our bottles, and snacked on salami — the promise of which was all that had gotten us up the hill. Mosquitoes and black flies swarmed, and the sky, which had begun the day clear, turned a pinkish gray as wildfire smoke began to dim the sun again.

“Why do we do this?”

“Good question.”

Onward to Hidden Lake, not so hidden after all. After dragging ourselves over 14 miles — 3 miles of forward progress from our last camp — we collapsed on a grassy shoreline, and rinsed our scratched and bruised bodies in the glassy frigid water. The lake sat beneath two pointed cliffs, side by side — one of red stone, the other gray— and the sun set early in the narrow valley. Trout jumped, snatching flies from the water’s surface, and pair of mergansers jetted around the lake, snatching the fish in turn. Exhausted, we fell asleep listening to hermit thrushes whistling their fluting ethereal song over the quiet rush of cascades tumbling down the cliffs, filling the lake.

We woke up, wolfed down some instant oatmeal, slurped up some instant coffee, and began the day’s climb. Up and over Cramer Pass, beneath “The Temple,” a tower of red sandstone capped with a knobby monolith that might well have been the icon of some desert religion. We descended again to the three Cramer Lakes, each one cascading to the next, down further to cross a rushing stream of snowmelt and spring water. We dipped our hats and bandannas in the almost-freezing water to drip down our necks and backs in the hot afternoon. Then we’re climbing again, this time twice as high, twice as far, to Alpine Lake, a pristine tarn carved into the side of the slope, a fine place for a salami break. Then higher, sweating our way up to the day’s second pass. We looked down on the Baron Lakes, where we would camp for the night, and across the lakes to Warbonnet Peak and Monte Verita, grey and purple in the late afternoon shadows.

“This is why we do this.”

“Yeah.”

One reason, anyway. The most obvious reason. If you did a survey of the people who somehow ended up at the top of the pass above Baron Lakes, this would be the number one reason cited for braving the insects and the varmints, dealing with the aches and the rashes, and slogging up a mountain with a heavy pack: the views, the vistas, the landscapes, the panoramas. The drama of the mountains. It’s like cooking your own meal — it tastes better when you’ve worked for it, earned it, done it yourself. The view from the pass is more beautiful for the sweat and exertion dragging your body and your pack up the climb.

We got more the following day as we descended from the Baron Lakes, our final day on the trail. An oceanic valley opened up beneath us, ringed by steep cliffs and rockslides of red and grey and purple, Baron Creek turning into a 30 foot waterfall. You can’t find this outside the mountains, this sense of three-dimensional space. Of looking down a valley two miles wide as it falls away from your feet, three thousand feet down. Like standing in the greatest of civilization’s cathedrals, but one with enough open space to park a carrier group, with more room for a fleet of attack submarines below.

After five nights and six days, we have become the land. Smeared with the dust of an arid country, we blend in with the rock and dirt. And despite our daily dips in the alpine lakes of the Sawtooth, we smell like it too. That first shower will feel great. The first meal — Jaime’s been fantasizing about a tuna melt and French fries, Sam has been inexplicably craving pancakes — even better. This is also why we backpack. It feels awfully good to have done it.

More than just the relief and indulgence of returning to civilization, a week in the mountains offers a welcome reset on city life. I am a city person. I like living in a density of people, living within a stroll of most everything I need, nearby neighbors and friends. But I crave the balance offered by nature, by a week in the woods, a month in the mountains. We’ll return feeling refreshed, glad to be back, awed by the commonplace luxuries of modern urban living: a world’s worth of cuisines, at my doorstep in 20 minutes; humanity’s complete works of recorded music, in my pocket. We’ll be very glad to have done it, for all its ups and downs. And, more immediately, we’re glad to be done.

“I’m sore.”

“Me too.”

“My blister just popped.”

“Ew.”

“I feel great.”

“Me too.”

Leaning on the car, we ease off our boots. The horseflies are back at this lower elevation, and their buzzing takes us back to last week when we tightened our laces and adjusted the straps on our pack in preparation for starting our trip. We had arrived at Grandjean just a few hours behind the first wave of wildfire smoke. Hiking in July, we thought we’d beat the wildfires to the punch; no such luck. So we started our hike in a haze - literal and figurative - wondering if we’d be walking up mountains for 54 miles with the reward of smoggy vistas waiting at the passes and peaks.

The first day’s hike didn’t lift that haze. The trail was overgrown, not often used, with deadfall lying across our path requiring us to clamber over dead trunks or bushwhack through brush to get around. Horseflies dogged us, buzzing and biting. As we climbed, sweating, copses of trembling aspen yielded to a forest of ponderosa pine, white spruce, douglas fir, and horseflies yielded to mosquitoes. Six miles up the trail, we encountered two fellow hikers, who informed us that the first good campsite was another eight miles ahead, and that they were churning out 20 miles in a day to get out of this godforsaken wilderness pronto. Terrific.

Fortunately, they were wrong, and we soon found a very fine place to pitch a tent next to a small waterfall. The Payette River’s headwaters split and cascaded down on either side of a great red rock, and every few seconds, the waters surged and a shower of snowmelt would surge over the rock itself, spraying into the air.

A western tanager — electric yellow body, reddish head, and jet black wings — flitted through the campsite. So did chipmunks, rushing around frantically to spread the good news that a pair of slovenly campers had finally arrived, and the summer’s harvest was here at last.

“Look at the cheeks on that little guy.”

“He’s just dying to fill them up with our trail mix.”

Joke’s on us. His cheeks were already full. We turn around, and our bag of trail mix has been chewed open, our week’s supply of almonds, cashews, chocolate, and cranberries pawed through and looted.

“Oh no!”

“Tou thieving little bastard! You bandit! Son of a bitch!”

He was long gone, and presumably the life of the party in whatever chipmunk den he had retreated to. Not wanting to contract whatever rodent virus the chipmunks might have left on our nuts — and not wanting to reward their banditry — I fed our entire supply of trail mix to the fish, swearing profusely as each morsel washed downstream. We have enough food without it, I think.

Our second morning, we awoke to what appeared as a fine morning mist; the pines in the middle distance enveloped in a grey cloud; the ridgeline hazy. But central Idaho is a dry country, this time of year. There is no mist. The wildfire smoke has thickened, and an image of peace transforms to a vague and grim picture of threat and foreboding. We shoulder our packs and resume the climb; eleven more miles on the trail, plus half a mile vertically.

As we walk we get our first glimpses of sawtooth silhouette. Steep rocky cliffs capped with jagged ridgelines, hazy and dark in the smoke against the grey sky. We cross a cold stream, boots off, sandals on, almost knee deep in the rushing icy water. We stop to rest — our first salami break of the trip! — beside Smith Falls, a roaring cascade.

“Do you have the hand sanitizer?”

“I thought you had it.”

“Nope.”

“Where’s the soap?”

“Packed with the hand sanitizer.”

“We’re disgusting.”

The day has gotten hot, and our final mile is a savage climb, switchbacking up the rough talus slope of Mt. Everly. Closing in on 9000’ feet of elevation, we stop to catch our breath every few steps and soak in the panorama behind us: smoky and grey, but astounding nonetheless, with miles of views into wilderness valleys ringed by sawtooth ridges.

Finally, we climb high enough that a lake reveals itself as a sliver of blue, and then it’s at our feet. Everly Lake is a sapphire droplet, water clear to the bottom, the gently rippling surface sparkling azure in the late afternoon sun. It sits beneath the east face of Mt. Everly, a scree cliff dropping a thousand feet to the water’s edge, across from where we set up camp. We haven’t seen another soul all day, and we have this lake very much to ourselves.

Why do we do this? An interesting question because, in case it’s not obvious, backpacking trips involve a considerable quantity of suffering. We do it for the satisfaction and rejuvenation of completing a trip, certainly. And obviously the views — even when they’re gray and hazy. But this — this is really why we hump heavy packs up rocky cliffs, put up with clouds of insects and wildfire smoke, endure blisters and aches and altitude sickness. There is freedom in solitude (dual solitude, in our case), and real solitude is a hard thing to come by. Hot and sweaty and ragged from the climb, I splash into the glass-clear snowmelt of Everly Lake, naked as a wild animal.

When telling people about our big trip west, our route through Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, the most frequent first response was “ah, you’re doing the parks.” Meaning the National Parks, those natural American wonders with scenic byways leading drivers to the parks’ iconic sights, visitors’ centers full of gifts and amenities and fun facts, and influencers dangling their immaculate bodies over sheer cliffs to rack up the likes. Not so. We are, in fact, avoiding the Parks at all costs, instead seeking solitude in forests and wilderness — the likes of the Sawtooth.

In March, we took a trip to Great Smoky Mountain National Park, hoping to hike and revel in some of the finest scenery you’ll find east of the Mississippi. The joke was very much on us. Day one, we spent two hours in the car, inching toward a trailhead, in a miles-long snake of cars and trucks and RVs. In July and August, Yellowstone National Park transmutes from the largest national park in the lower 48 into the biggest parking lot on the North American continent. People sleep in their cars on the road to Zion, in the hopes of snagging a shot at a sunrise selfie.

It’s been fifty years since Edward Abbey wrote Desert Solitaire, which I’ve been reading on the trail. The book is an account of his summers as a ranger in the park that would eventually become Arches. He lamented road-building in National Parks, and proposed banning cars altogether, a fine idea. Many of our Parks did alright for decades, even with their roads and scenic byways; today’s plauge, clogging those roads and viewpoints and even some of the trails, is known as Instagram. The secret is out about the natural beauty of the American west, and the hoards have flocked.

Of course, not everyone out here in nature is seeking solitude. That’s fine. Certainly, every person has a right to see and experience earth’s great wonders. But even for the casual nature tourist, I would posit that the Grand Canyon would be better enjoyed with enough room to swing one’s arms. What to do about it? Who knows. The French are de-marketing their national parks, advertising the flaws and shortcomings of the country’s great natural sites; another fine idea, maybe there are others. At any rate, Abbey is lucky to be dead; the sight of hoards of selfie-snappers crowding for the perfect pic at Mesa Arch would kill him over again.

For those who do seek something approaching solitude, it’s harder and harder to find. We’ve avoided the National Parks, but even many of the forest campgrounds are full beyond the brim. We’ve spent evenings driving around the backwoods, trying in vain to find a good place to camp that isn’t already clogged with RVs. And I’m not here to tell anyone how to enjoy nature, but I am here to tell you that the RV is a blight upon American wilderness. Pulling into a campground in a forgotten corner of the Black Hills, and listening to a fleet of generators run for hours is, shall we say, irritating. If your idea of exploring America’s natural beauty involves parking a bus that costs as much as Lamborghini in the woods and running a generator 16 hours a day to keep your A/C running and your TV on, why not save yourself the trouble — and do the rest of us a favor — and stay home?

As one friend likes to say, gazing up at a spectacular mountain view and taking a contented sigh: “We mean nothing.” In the city, it’s hard to see yourself outside the contemporary, the immediate, the urgent. Put yourself in nature, in the shadow of a great peak or at the bottom of a colossal canyon, and it becomes possible to see your ego and your consciousness in a more accurate perspective: transient, insignificant. There’s freedom in that. And peace.

The chipmunks of Everly Lake share the thieving attitude of their cousins down the mountain. As we sat absorbing the last of the orange sun’s rays, we heard a rustling behind us, and caught one in the act trying to seize our sesame crisps. Rather than chewing through the bag and filling his fat cheeks with whatever they could carry, this greedy fellow had his tiny arms wrapped around the entire ziploc bag, attempting to make off with the whole kit and kaboodle. Not today, chipmunk. We learned our lesson. Our food bag didn’t leave our sight the rest of the trip.

We awoke the next morning to the smell of a campfire burning outside our tent. Poking my head out into the grey predawn light — no campfire, just a thick cloud of wildfire smoke. The far shore was shrouded in haze, and our sparkling blue lake had turned dull; a grim sense of foreboding gripped us as we wolfed down our instant oatmeal, slurped up our instant coffee, and shouldered our packs to descend from Everly.

We hop from lake to lake through the southern Sawtooth, and, mercifully, the cloud of smoke thins as we go. Not a soul on the trail, as we dip our toes in lakes with wonderful names — Ingeborg, Spangle, Ardeth— and some quotidian names — Rock Slide, Vernon, Benedict. I regret leaving my binoculars in the car, we try to ID our avian companions anyway. Most will end up in our books as LBBs (little brown birds), curious peepers and cheepers. We do grow fond of the white-capped sparrow, which looks like it’s wearing a bike helmet and sings a song that sounds like the opening refrain of Baby Shark. Funny little fellow.

We arrive at Lake Edna, our camp for the night, and the skies have cleared. We are treated to sunset over a glassy indigo surface. We watch the sun fall behind the same mountain that it has set behind for hundreds, thousands of summer evenings previous. It’s harder and harder to find pristine nature like this, unaltered by humanity. If some other person had felt compelled to make the same hike, climb the same hill 500 or 5000 Julys ago, they would have seen the same thing, heard the same birds, enjoyed the shade of the same trees. There is magic in that.

We woke up on the morning of our fourth day in the Sawtooth wilderness feeling spry.

This essay borrows liberally and consciously in structure and style from Messrs. Edward Abbey & John McPhee.

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yikesharringrove · 5 years ago

Note

the fic you wrote for my last prompt was amazing, ty 😭 can you do 50 + 56 this time please? and if you want to work in dyslexic!steve too that would be awesome! 🥰

You are speaking my fuckin’ language, dyslexic Steve is my ABSOLUTE jam. Honestly, whenever I write Steve, he’s dyslexic, although sometimes it’s not mentioned because it’s not important to Harry’s journey @ jk rowling

Thank you for your request! I’m really glad you liked the other one I wrote! You’re anonymous so I don’t know which one that is but I really enjoyed writing them all! Sorry for my manic energy rn.

Something a little different, it’s modern au! This is probably nothing like what you were thinking so I’m sorry, but I kinda love it ngl.

50: Secret Admirer

56: “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

Prompt list!

Billy spent three and a half hours reading through every single tweet on the account.

There were so fucking many of them. The earliest one was timestamped from four days ago, so obviously, this person had no life outside of tweeting.

Tweeting about Billy.

He had a few personal favorites. He had retweeted them to his account, figuring may as well play it up, make a joke outta everything.

@ImHardForHargrove: sorry WHOMST gave you the RIGHT to have eyes that fuckin blue im YELLING

@ImHardForHargrove: watchin u play basketball is a religious experience y are ur arms so BIG hhnnnng

And Billy’s absolute favorite, which he pinned right at the top of his account

@ImHardForHargrove: ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass

Billy knew he looked good. Knew he turned heads wherever he went. He did that on purpose. But realizing someone at Hawkins High had set up a thirst account for him, well.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.” Billy had explained the situation to Robin, letting her go through the account on his phone. “Like, It’s kinda nice, whoever this guy is, he’s got a crush. But also like, It’s kinda creepy. Plus he’s objectifying me,” Billy was talking through his sandwich.

Robin made a face of disgust. “Why do you keep saying ‘he’? All of the girls in this fucking school are practically drooling for you.”

“Hard for Hargrove, Robin. I know you’re like, revolted by the peen and whatever but that does not excuse a lack of basic sexual education and anatomy.” She gagged at him. Honest to God, gagged. He thought she was gonna spew all over the table.

“If I ever hear you call it a peen ever again, it’s on sight Hargrove.” Heather plopped herself down next to Robin, kissing her cheek before zeroing in on Billy’s phone, still in Robin’s hand.

“Have you guys worked out who it could be yet?” Her eyes were wide at Billy.

“Billy says he thinks its a guy even though people with penises aren’t necessarily men.” Robin gave him a pointed look.

“Yeah Robin, I know that, but, I don’t know I just think it’s a guy penis-having person.”

Heather narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you actually think that, or are you just hoping in that goblin little brain of yours that this account is Steve Harrington’s.” Billy could feel the heat spread down his neck.

“Billy, I know Steve is like, the only out guy in this whole fucking town, but you can do way better than him. PLUS, I feel like it makes more sense if the person running this account wasn’t out and had to channel their gay yearning through social media.”

“First of all Robin, you have this vendetta against Steve that I don’t get. He’s a nice guy. He’s kinda dopey, kinda dumb, but he’s like, sweet and shit. Second, I’m not out, so it still could be him because he doesn’t think I would, like, accept his advances or whatever. Hence, gay internet yearning.” The chime of the bell sent them packing their lunches, Billy’s phone vibrated in Robin’s hand. She rolled her eyes when he realized he turned on notifications for the account

“Get a fucking life you loser.” She slapped the phone into his hand. He opened the new tweet with embarrassing zeal.

@ImHardForHargrove: i saw u talking with ur mouth full and it was yucky but i was still 🥺🥺

His head shot up, trying to see who would have been facing him during lunch, but the cafeteria was almost empty.

The rest of the week Billy took deliberate care of every interaction he had with anyone. Observing who was in his surroundings, and making note of everything he did and said. He took extra caution around Steve, wanting to spot any minute detail that could give away who ran the account.

The account started blowing up. People were retweeting like fucking crazy. Everywhere he went, he was being asked if he’s seen it, like he doesn’t regularly retweet the good ones. The search for the owner of the account had spread throughout the whole school. A few girls even tried to claim the account was theirs, but every time that happened the account would tweet out something to discredit whoever made the claim, proving them a liar.

Billy was starting to lose hope it was Harrington. The tweets were coming at all different times, posted whenever the person thought about it, so Billy was losing track of who was near when he said or did something. And the tweets were always about stupid stuff Billy didn’t register doing. On Wednesday night the account said

@ImHardForHargrove: hi when you chew on your pencil and it makes me 🥴 that is all thx for comin to my ted talk

Friday afternoon gave them all:

@ImHardForHargrove: walked past ur classroom and u were asleep ive never wanted to CUDDLE someone so bad in my LIFE

But Saturday, Saturday renewed all hope for Harrington Billy could possibly have. Lauren Kranz was throwing a party. It was the first real rager in a while, so everyone was there, and everyone was sloshed. Everyone but Billy, who’d agreed to be designated driver for Robin and Heather like some kinda idiot.

He was brooding on the back porch when his phone went off. The account was active, and the owner was drunk.

@ImHardForHargrove: I can seeeeee u oyt the windw I wan u 2 FUC ME. RAW DOG.

@ImHardForHargrove: srry ur so beauitiful nd THICCC

@ImHardForHargrove: I wana shoot my shot but idk if u lik bois

@ImHardForHargrove: (ys i am boi)

@ImHardForHargrove: nd i dont wana get my heart broken agin 😥

He was right about it being a guy. He was right about him being too nervous to approach him outright. His brain was screaming stevestevesteve at him. Hawkins was shook when Steve came out as bisexual in his sophomore year. He was the golden boy, a real jock. He was NOT the kind of guy people would assume queer in a small midwestern town.

He was kind of a douchebag, dumping one girl for another, sleeping with her and never calling again. But then he settled down with this guy from the University of Indianapolis for a few months until Steve caught him cheating. Apparently, he had slashed the guy’s tires. Billy was impressed.

The next year came Wheeler, who only stuck around long enough to make sure Steve was nice and whipped before she fucked off on him too. So Steve retreated. Spent more time with middle schoolers than anybody else. Didn’t want to put his heart on the line anymore until he knew it wouldn’t be stomped on. Billy could respect that.

Billy couldn’t risk being out in a town like Hawkins. Word always had a way of getting right back to his dad, and in a tiny hick town with nothing better to do than gossip, it was usually only a matter of hours before Neil heard something he didn’t like.

@ImHardForHargrove: srry 4 bad typing rn. drunk nd dysl exic ren’t a happy combo

Billy’s heart stopped. The drunken idiot was giving himself away. Maybe if he sat here staring at the account long enough, enough would be revealed he could figure it all out like a shitty drunk episode of Blue’s Clues.

He was so focused on Twitter, refreshing his feed, again and again, he didn’t notice a very drunk, and very unsteady Steve Harrington stumbling out the back door towards him. Until he crashed into his back.

“Sorry, Bill!” Billy had Steve by the shoulders trying to keep him upright. “Heyy I have a question for you.” Steve grabbed one of Billy’s hands and veered over to the table and chairs arranged neatly on the small patio. When they were sitting, Steve kept ahold of Billy’s hand.

“Hi.” Steve was smiling like a little kid. Billy was in fucking love.

“hey, Harrington. What was your question.”

“So-oo. I have this friend. A very good friend. Super close. And he has a big ol’ crush on you but he’s too scared to ask you himself because he keeps getting his heart fuckin’ broken so he wanted me to ask. Are you into guys?” It’s a miracle Billy understood any of that, every word blending into the next.

“That depends.” Billy leaned in, running his tongue along his bottom lip. He saw Steve take in a sharp breath, following the movement with his glazed eyes. He knew Steve was talking about himself, he just wanted to rile him up a little. Make him blush first. “This friend you’re talkin’ about. He’s our age? Like you’re not trying to set me up with one a’ your kids, right?” Steve physically recoiled.

“NO, you fuckin’ pedo. I’m NOT trying to set you up with a fuckin’, fuckin’ middle schooler. My friend is, uh eighteen. He’s a senior.” Unless Tommy fuckin’ H. suddenly had a penchant for dick Billy didn’t know about, Steve was 100% talking about himself.

“Well, if he’s as pretty as you are, I’d love to go out with him sometime.” Billy winked. Steve went red.

“Okay, but like, does that mean you’d go out with me? Like I’m as pretty as me, right? Because I was talking about me. Not ‘a friend’ I was talking about me. Steve.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out. You know, I was hoping it was you running that Twitter. Any time you’d tweet out something you wanted to do with me, I was always picturin’ doing it with you, Baby.” Billy was practically purring. “Especially all the shit you wanted me to do TO you.” Steve gave something between a whine and a groan and flopped himself onto Billy’s lap, straddling him with very little grace.

“Thank God. ‘Cause you’re so fucking hot I’d let you do anything to me. Anything, Bill.” Billy smiled softly at him.

“Then let me take you home. Let me put you in bed to sleep off all this. And let me take you to breakfast tomorrow. Something nice and greasy for your hangover tummy.” Steve was a puddle in Billy’s lap. “C’mon, Drunky, git your ass up.” Steve just giggled and muttered Drunky Skunky under his breath.

Billy sighed and stood up, hefting Steve up with him.

“Bil-ly,” Steve whined. “You’re so strong, this is so fucking hot. I gotta tweet about this.”

“Tweet it later, Sweet Thing.”

It took Billy for-fucking-ever to find Robin and Heather (they were making out in the basement with the stoners). But Steve chirped and cooed into his ear, so happy Billy could lift him and hold him like it was nothing.

The last tweet from the account was timestamped from Sunday evening.

@ImHardForHargrove: Hi this is Steve. Billy’s my boyfriend now 🥰#ThirstWorks

#I'm gonna reblog this in the morning too #Im v proud of it I want people to SEE IT #harringrove #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargorve #modern au #modern harringrove #yikes writes #harringrove prompts #Harringrove Prompts list #harringrove prompt fill #prompt fill #prompt fic

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labyrinthof-fan-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

Two Ships Passing in the Night {3}

Part 3

Series Masterlist

Spock x fem!Reader then Bones x fem!Reader

Second Person POV reader named. I’m trying to leave the name out as much as possible so it’s more immersive.

AOS

Summary: Saying goodbye proves harder than you had thought it would.

A/N: I’m getting far too invested in this story that served as my before sleep dreamscape for three months.

Warnings: Mild Language, pining, unrequited love, goodbyes, mentions of pregnancy, goodbyes, some angst, mild nudity.

Word Count: 2,092

Leonard helped you to pack the belongings you had in the hospital. Which consisted of one shredded Starfleet Uniform. A new one sat on the bed, your arm still in a sling you glanced at him, “Len, can you help me?”

You missed the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed nervously, “Yeah, no problem.” You stepped out of the hospital gown, in only standard issue boxers and a sports bra, that a nurse had helped you into. He took his eyes away from you, you pulled the uniform pants on, trying in vain to button them with one hand. His fingers ghosted over yours as he fastened the button and reached for the command gold shirt on the bed. He threw the shirt over his shoulder and started to remove your sling. His fingers moving deftly at the fasteners. Each time his fingers touched your flesh you felt a dull heat. You forced yourself to ignore it as he slowly lowered your arm and pulled the shirt over your head. You easily pushed your right arm through as he gently maneuvered your left arm into the sleeve. A hiss escaped your lips as a sharp pain erupted in your shoulder. “Sorry.” He said, barely a whisper as he began to fasten the sling on your arm over your uniform.

Once he was finished his eyes met yours, something unreadable in his eyes, before he glanced away. “So, you ship out tomorrow?” You asked.

He nodded. “We just got the crew discharged and they want to throw us into space” He grumbled.

You chuckled at that. “I ship out three days later.” You stated, “What do you say, one last hurrah dinner?” You asked.

He paused for a moment, conflict churning in his stomach. He knew that this would hurt, the last dinner with you. “Sure, darlin’.”

You didn’t say anything about the name, but nodded. He took your shredded uniform in his hand and nodded. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m walking you to your apartment, then we’re going for dinner.” He answered, an eyebrow raised in your direction. “You really think I’m going to let you walk by yourself? A pregnant woman who is still in a sling, who happens to be my best friend? Do you know nothing of my Southern hospitality?”

It was turn to raise your eyebrow at him. “Best friend? Better not let Jim hear that. It will be a complete challenge to his existence.”

Leonard started grumbling under his breath, you couldn’t make out much more than Jim’s name. He finished his tirade and pushed the door open, gesturing for you to leave the room. He took one last glance around the room before following you out. He reached for your good elbow to guide you out of the way of a doctor moving forward at a quick pace. Your hip bumped against his, you glanced up as a few nurses stared in your direction. You could almost feel daggers being sent in your direction as his hand rested on your opposite hip, steadying your balance. As you exited the hospital you raised your face towards the sun, taking in a deep breath. You heard Leonard chuckle as he removed his hand from your hip.

“Just because you can’t enjoy the simple things, Dr. McCoy, doesn’t mean that I can’t.” You snarked in his direction.

He raised an eyebrow, not commenting. Which surprised you. His mind was reeling, the only simple things I need in life are from you. But he would not say that aloud as he watched you take another deep breath. Just when did he become a sap?

He continued walking with you in silence. Watching the way the sun hit your hair, the ways your eyes would shine when you looked at him. Five years were a long time, you were going to be somewhere across the universe. He was pulled out of his mind when you reached your apartment building. You easily scanned in, Leonard following you to the elevator. You both entered your apartment, Leonard making his way to your garbage to dispose of the old uniform. You made your way into your room stopping in the doorway. You knew that getting changed was going to be an issue. You sighed. You hated going to dinner in uniform. Especially in command gold, but you weren’t about to make Leonard help you agin. You heard a voice from behind you.

“I can help. I’ve seen my fair share of naked bodies this week.” You could hear the joking tone in his voice. “You know you hate going out in gold.”

You sighed, he had won. “Fine.” You turned towards him, his hands began unbuckling the sling. He tossed it aside and helped you to pull off the shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear. “Grab a flannel from the closet, I’ll get pants.” He walked over to your closet, you pulled a pair of leggings out of your dresser. You sat on your bed and pulled them on slowly, one leg at a time. It wasn’t the most graceful thing you had done, but it worked well enough. Leonard turned with a blue flannel in his hands and helped to put your arms through it, then began to fasten the buttons.

Your gaze fell on the man kneeling in front of you, helping you become dressed. He finished and his eyes made their way up to yours. You both sat in silence for a moment, “So, blue?” You asked.

“Well, you bitch so much about gold, thought you might like a walk in my shoes.” He answered, a smile on his face. Your stomach let out a low rumble after his statement. “And it sounds like you two are hungry. Let’s go. We’ll get a half decent meal at that diner, and so help me if you try to get your burger medium well…” He paused when he realized that you were still on the bed. “Darlin’?”

Your eyes met his. “Leonard, I’m scared.” You whispered. He made his way back to you, sitting next to you. His hand reached for your good hand, finders threading through yours. “I never thought I’d leave the Enterprise. I didn’t think I’d be a mom. So much has changed.”

His thumb rubbed against the back of your hand. “Some things will change. And that’s life. Look at me. I thought I would be a country doctor with my wife, living on Earth. Here I am now, CMO on a spaceship, about to ship off on a 5 year mission into the unknown. Without that, I never would have met Jim. I never would have met you. So much changed, but there was so much good.” You lean your head on his shoulder, your stomach growling again. “I may not be an expert in prenatal care, but I think we need to feed you two, now.” He said, standing, giving a tug to your joined hands, causing you to reluctantly stand. Your grip on his hand tightened as you followed him out of the apartment building to the diner down the street. Both of you not noticing the command gold clad captain stopping in the road and staring in your direction, with a twinkle in his eye.

Leonard directed you to a booth and a waitress bounced up to your table. “What will it be?”

“Two burgers, everything, well done. Fries on the side. Vanilla milkshake for me, she’ll take a ginger ale.” Leonard listed off. The waitresses eyes jumped between the two of you.

“That’ll be right out.” She winked as she sauntered away to get your drinks.

Your eyes traced over Leonard, leaning back against the booth. His left arm thrown across the back, his right fingers tapping on the tabletop. The waitress set your drinks in front of you before turning back to the counter. “What’s on your mind, Bones?” You asked, taking a sip of the drink.

“Five years is a long time.” He murmured. “A really long damn time.”

You nodded, eyes meeting his. “It is.”

“Five years, in space, with Jim as captain. It’s going to be a miracle if we make it home in one piece.” He grumbled.

“You made it back here in one piece.” You answered, taking another sip.

His eyes fell back on you, you almost didn’t. He sighed. “Five years with Jim as your only friend onboard a spaceship.” He countered.

“Hmmm, might be time for you to share your sparkling personality with the crew. Make some new friends.” You answered.

He snorted, “I have far surpassed my friend quota for the next twenty years.”

Before you could respond the waitress placed your burgers in front of both of you. “Enjoy.” She said, then making her way back to the counter.

Leonard started to eat, cutting off the conversation, you started in on your plate. The two of you sitting in silence, enjoying the last meal you had together. You started aimlessly moving the last of your fries around your plate as Leonard pushed his plate away. His eyes watching you, “So are you going to eat that, or do I have to watch you draw shapes in your catsup?”

Your eyes squinted at him, you gave one more flick of your wrist to the fry before popping it into your mouth. “Snarky old bastard.” You grumbled.

“But I’m your snarky old bastard.” He responded, a smirk spreading across his face, setting his blue eyes alight.

A small smile graced your lips. “Thank the gods I only have to deal with you a few more hours.”

“Yes, lucky you.” He said, taking the last drink of his shake. He placed some money on the table, you started to object, but he cut you off. “My treat, call it our celebration dinner.”

“I was going to say send off dinner.” You said.

“Beat you to it.” He teased, standing from his seat. He waited for you to rise from the booth then made his way to the door and opened it to allow you out.

“Such a gentleman.” You said, giving him a nudge in the ribs with your good elbow.

“Southern hospitality, darlin’. It’s like you don’t know me.” He said, pretending to be hurt, then reaching out to grab your hand in his.

Warmth radiated from his hand into yours, warming your whole body. You glanced at the man next to you. His eyes on the path before you as he was rattling off manners and chivalry, like he was a knight of old or something. His shoulders were relaxed for the first time in days. You could see the lack of sleep under his eyes, but he was calm, comfortable even. Something stirred in your heart, but you weren’t sure what it was as you saw your apartment building looming in the distance.

You both stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, staring at the building. The place you called home losing the charm you were used to. You quickly turned to Leonard, shocking him for a moment. “Promise me, that if you can, you’ll call. If we’re in range. We’ll stay in touch.”

His eyes widened a bit. “I promise, as long as you promise not to get mad when I look over your records from Ambrose. To see how you and your little one are doing.” His hand that you weren’t holding settling on your abdomen.

You looked into his blue eyes. “I promise. But you don’t get to be rude and Sergeant Doctor when something isn’t to your liking. Ambrose isn’t under your orders.”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Fine, but you won’t do anything reckless, you’re not Jim and you’re not on Jim’s ship.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m on a diplomatic ship, hardly anything dangerous or reckless happens on those.”

He sighed and rested his forehead against yours. “I promise that no matter what, I’ll be there for you.”

“And I you.” You answered. His hand moved from your abdomen to your cheek.

“Goodbye, Captain.” He whispered.

“Goodbye, Doctor.” You answered, then he pulled away, releasing your hand. He gave a sad smile and turned to walk back the way you had came. Watching him leave you felt that flutter again, but you ignored it. Your heart was heavy as you watched your best friend make his way into the night. You didn’t know when next you would see him, but you knew for sure, you would miss him every day.

Part 4

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bensakindofmagic · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Eight

Warnings: swears, smoking (which is real bad kiddos, but I couldn’t help it, it looks so sexy)

A/N: we’re back to some good ol’ fashioned ben content here folks, and it’s all unrequited fluff (that is a term i have coined, feel free to use it, i think it’s perfect).

w/c: 3.5k+

Chapter Eight

The next week went by in a blur. You were filming the Japan tour, which made you hellishly busy. Having so many extras in one room, along with all the lights and sound tech, kept you on your toes constantly. You hung out with the guys when you could but often you were called away the second you sat down. You would always groan and roll your eyes exaggeratedly, but part of you was glad for the work. It kept your mind off everything. Ending things with Matteo, even though they had been so short-lived, weighed heavily on you. It brought all the memories of the first time tumbling back in like a crack in a dam, and the effort of not getting sucked under the waves was exhausting. On top of it all, the lack of any possibility with Matty sent your mind reeling back to Ben, and it didn’t help that he looked so fucking good in the costume. That white, fringed waistcoat had you all but drooling, and kept finding yourself staring at the necklaces that fell against his chest, bouncing softly with the rhythm of his drumming. After all the emotional turmoil of the last week you were exactly where you started, with an inappropriate crush on a colleague, only now you had the trauma of a past heartbreak woven in. Great.

On the plus side, Josh seemed to finally be getting the hint and leaving you alone to do your job, even if he was a little sulky with you.

“Y/N, can you come help us for a second,” you heard Joe call, as they waited around for Rami to sort something out with Polly.

“What d'you need?” you asked when you reached them.

“We have a very important question we need your considerable expertise to answer,” he continued.

“Does this top make me look more like a dove or an albatross?” Gwil asked with absolute solemnity. You had to smile to yourself at their blatant efforts to spend time with you.

“Oh, for sure an albatross, you’re far to big to be a dove,” you confirmed, mimicking his tone. Joe gave a triumphant, “I knew it.”

“But I’m so graceful! Albatrosses are such lanky things,” he pouted.

“Um, I believe the plural is albatroi,” Joe teased with mock snobbishness.

You smirked, ignoring him and turned to Gwil, “I think they’ve very majestic. Just because something is big it doesn’t make it less beautiful,” you cooed, standing up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. You turned to leave but as you did Joe moaned, “Where are you going?”

Before you could respond with a sarcastic, “To do my job”, he complained, “We’ve barely seen you this week, we miss you, Y/N.”

Ben piped up for the first time, “Are you really so busy that you can’t have a conversation with us?”

You felt guilt washing over you as you met their eyes, the three of them looking at you like abandoned puppies, desperate for attention.

“I’m sorry guys, I’ve just had a lot on my plate the past few days.”

“Exactly, that’s why you should be hanging out with us, your friends, to take your mind off it all.”

“It’s not like I don’t have any work to do,” you defended.

“Not in the evenings! You keep blowing us off.”

“Next time, I promise.”

“Tonight, my place,” Ben said assuredly, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer. For a moment you were distracted by a trickle of sweat running down the hollow where his collarbones met. “I live not far from here, we can get in some beers and snacks, have a chill one. Most of us don’t have to be in tomorrow.” Only Rami was due on set the next day.

You nodded, knowing full well that there would be no getting out of it even if you wanted to, but the thought of spending a night with the boys was actually quite a comfort. I would be good to relax and let loose a bit, have some fun.

“Okay, tonight.”

Nervous energy infected Ben for the rest of the day. He was exited to spend time with you again, especially outside of work. You’d been distant, and he missed your tenacity, your unbridled excitement to work, to be part of the family that was celebrating something so wonderful. He missed the way you had always showed up to work grinning, infecting the rest of them with your enthusiasm. As much as it pained him to see you so deflated, he couldn’t deny his relief when you’d told them about breaking things off with Matteo. It made him finally realise that he had to do something about his feelings for you, even if you rejected him; he couldn’t keep pining after you, wishing something would happen between you but never trying to make that a reality. He couldn’t risk seeing you with someone else again, at least not without telling you how he felt. If you met someone else and he lost his chance he’d never forgive himself.

As he let you all into his apartment he thanked God that he’d recently cleaned. Lucy had been invited along too, and arrived soon after you guys got there from set. She’d only done a few days with everyone but she was already fitting effortlessly into the group. And you could see they way she and Rami looked at each other, even if they couldn’t yet. You looked around Ben’s place, a little nervous at the intimacy of it — being in his home, his private space. The front door opened to an open-plan living room and kitchen with a large island separating them, and a couple of sofas clustered round the TV. The corridor led to two other others rooms, you presumed the master bedroom and a guest room, and the bathroom. The decor was minimalistic, mostly white and grey with some bright green notes from a couple of houseplants, but there was a ruggedness to it, like a layer of venire was hiding something more unkempt. It looked like him.

You noticed a couple of dog bowls in the corner of the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me you have a dog!” you squealed.

“Yeah Frankie, she’s a beagle. My parents are looking after her while I’m filming.” He showed you a picture of him with a very young looking puppy laying in his arms. He seemed so soft in his hoodie with his tousled hair, as he looked down at the little pup, holding one of her paws affectionally between his fingers. What a precious dad.

“That’s adorable.” You were talking about Frankie, of course. Ben didn’t need to know that you really meant him.

“Who wants a cold beer?” he called, taking cans out of the fridge and restocking it with the ones you had bought on the way there. The chucked one to you, which you caught and tapped the top to get rid of the bubbles. While the others opened their drinks and made themselves comfortable on the sofas, you instinctively went to the cupboards to help.

“You can sit down, you know,” Ben said, glancing you over his shoulder.

“I know,” you shrugged, “Where do you keep your bowls?”

He motioned to a cupboard and you got a couple out to serve the snacks in.

“I thought I was supposed to be hosting.”

“Everyone can use an extra pair of hands,” you smiled, popping a peanut into your mouth.

“Chuck me one of those,” he said, so you did. He tried to catch it in his mouth but it hit his chin and bounced onto the floor. You giggled, “Here, try agin.” The second time he caught it and grinned widely, “Nailed it.”

“Dream team.”

You started to make your way over to the others, hands full with snacks.

“Bring my beer with you when you sit down, will you?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied.

You were sat on the floor beside Ben’s legs due to the lack of sofa space. You didn’t mind, Rami and Lucy were curled up together on the smaller sofa (apparently they did know it, because they could barely keep their hands off each other), Gwil was on the armchair, and Joe and Ben were on the bigger sofa. You could have squeezed on but you were more comfortable on the floor, your legs curled up to your side, leaning ever so slightly against Ben’s calf.

“Okay, so who would win in a fight between Freddie and Lady Gaga?” joked Joe.

“Excuse me, why on earth would they be fighting?” you interjected with incredulity.

“Hypothetically,” he said rolling eye eyes emphatically.

“Hypothetically, they would hug and fangirl over each other and probably sing a beautiful duet in perfect harmony.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he relented.

“I’ve got one,” you said, shifting your weight, “who would win in a fight between John Deacon and Eugene Sledge?”

“Ooph, that’s a tough one,” Joe hesitated.

“Sledge, surely,” Ben reasoned, “he’s a trained marine.”

“Yeah but Deacy is scrappy, I think he could hold his own,” you hummed.

“Okay, what about Angel versus Roger,” Joe offered.

Ben grunted, “That’s not fair, Angel has superpower wings.”

“Rog v. Walter?” you suggested.

Gwil roused from his sleepy silence, “Who’s Walter?”

“From Woman in White.”

“You watched that?” Ben muttered, looking down at you with mild astonishment.

“Mmm,” you hummed affirmatively. “You look good in period costume. I particularly love the sideburns,” you joked.

“Oh fuck off,” he nudged your arm with his knee. You giggled, but the image of Ben in those baggy white linen shirts lingered in your mind’s eye.

“Gwil, wake up,” Joe scolded, throwing a bottle top at the welshman. It hit him in the face and he jolted upright. “Sorry, the beer’s making me drowsy.”

“Let’s put some music on,” you proposed, and Ben motioned to his speaker, inviting you to play something.

You played Dancing With Myself by Billy Idol, and instantly started to sway your hips to the drum beat, letting the rhythm travel up your body once the guitar came in.

“Excellent choice Y/N,” Joe praised, tapping his foot appreciatively.

True to the lyrics, you danced around the middle of the room, kicking your feet and unapologetically enjoying yourself. Before long Rami and Lucy got up too, and shimmied around together, laughing adorably as they tried not to step on each other’s feet.

You glanced at Ben, only to see he was already watching you. You beamed, shaking your hair out and you pointed at him, “Get up here, Hardy.” He shook his head with a laugh, but you weren’t having it. The beers had loosened your inhibitions and you wanted to dance with him, so that’s what you were going to do. You leant down, still swinging your hips and grabbed his hand, taking his beer and putting it on the table. You pulled him to his feet and purred, “Dance with me.”

“I’m a terrible dancer,” he whined, but you didn’t care. You pulled his body close to yours and let your hips loose. You ran your hands through your hair, letting hang down over your shoulders, and bopped your head to the beat. Shimmying round in circles, and pulling Ben along with you when he got too static, you laughed and smiled, letting your heart soar for the first time in weeks.

“You look happy,” Ben murmured.

You smiled, “You said that’s what I deserve, right? Someone who makes me happy?”

“Right,” a wistful smiled pulled at his mouth. Bright green met your eyes and confidence seemed to flash there as he said, “Who made you this happy?”

A grin split your face, and you tugged at your lip with your teeth. “Me,” you beamed and rushed to play Good as Hell by Lizzo. That song was exactly what you needed, and you belted along, tossing your hair and grinding your hips unashamedly. You watched Ben over your shoulder and smirked at the look of awe and hunger painted over his features. Seducing him would of course be a terrible idea, and you definitely weren’t trying to, but you couldn’t help but shimmy a little harder when you saw him watching. In the end though you were dancing for yourself.

When the song ended you were sweating and decided you needed some air.

“I’ve got a balcony, here I’ll come with you,” Ben said after you had inquired.

You followed him, grabbing your beer as you went. You shut the door behind you and sucked in the cool November air. It was crisp, a welcome refresher. You took a sip of your drink and watched as Ben pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He slipped one into his mouth and, raising an eyebrow to you, offered you one.

You nodded, “Cheers,” and leaned in towards the lighter he held up. Puffing lightly, you watched the flame dance in the moonlight. With the cigarette lit you inhaled deeply, letting the tobacco burn your throat a little and the nicotine make you lightheaded.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ben mused as lit his. The way he sucked in his cheeks, the cigarette dangling from his lips, had you all but dripping with desire.

“I don’t,” you responded, “But I went to uni.”

He nodded, understanding the implication, “I’m trying to cut down. Smoking kills and all that.”

You simpered, “It just looks so damn sexy though.”

“Right?” he chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his throat. He raised his hand to his mouth to inhale, lifting his chin and extending his bottom lip as he did. Your eyes skimmed over the veins in his hand, protruding like a Renaissance sculpture. You licked your lips and took a drag.

“So tell me Benjamin, how’s it going with this crush of yours?” you pried, “You know, you still haven’t told me who she is. Assuming it is a she, of course.”

He scoffed and shook his head, “It’s a she.”

“You laugh but it could very easily have been Joe,” you giggled. Ben just took another drag, and looked out over the city below.

You persisted, “The fact that you haven’t told me who she is makes me think I must know her.”

Still he refused to look at you, so you nudged him with your elbow.

“You could say that,” he mumbled. Triumph and envy swelled in you in equal measure. “I’m still not telling you who she is.”

“You told her how you feel yet?” He shook his head, dejected.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked with genuine curiosity.

“A sign she likes me back.”

“Ben, how could she not? Have you looked at yourself lately?” you said, incredulous. He gave a bitter laugh. “I mean it Ben, seriously. You’re kind, and smart, and passionate. I’ve seen your capacity for love, I can see it in your face when you talk about her, and she would be so lucky to be loved by you. Whoever she is.”

Smoking the last of your cigarette in silence, you looked up at the cloudless night sky, and admired the stars. You shivered as the bitter chill infected your skin.

“You cold?”

“It’s my own fault,” you shook your head, “I should have brought a jacket.” He unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off, offering it to you. You took it gratefully and hugged it around your body, letting the heat still held in the fabric from Ben’s body envelop you. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms to warm you further, his biceps tightening where they emerged from the sleeves of his tshirt, and the veins in his forearms swelling.

You hummed, “Thanks,” and met his eyes. They glistened, pupils blown in the dark, streetlights reflecting like constellations. There was something twinkling in them, something tender and inviting; you wanted to swim in them.

“You’ve got goosebumps,” you breathed, looking from his bare flesh to his face through your lashes.

“I’m okay,” he murmured. Little you knew, the bumps on his skin were as much from the cold as his proximity to you and the way you looked at him.

You unwrapped the jumper from around you and took a step towards him, leading his arms to wrap around your waist and then pulled it closed behind him. He shivered infinitesimally from your heat. Every inch of your torso was pressed against his, muscular arms pulling you so tight, but still you didn’t feel close enough. You let your head rest against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his deep, steady breaths. You inhaled the scent of him, natural and elemental, like a forest after rain. It was a forest you wanted to get lost in. A contented hum resounded somewhere deep in your chest and the vibrations of your body syncopated with his. Your eyes drifted shut and you succumbed to him, allowing him to infuse into your senses.

“You know,” he cooed, you could hear the smile in his voice, “We could go inside.”

“Not yet.”

You stayed like that for a little while, indulging your desire for intimacy, until the chill penetrated and you shivered. You followed Ben back inside, and when you offered him his jumper back he declined, saying, “Keep it on, it looks good on you.”

Your cheeks flushed discreetly. He took his seat on the sofa and you settled yourself beside him, squeezing into the gap between him and Joe.

“What have you lot been gossiping about then?” you said as you tucked your legs beneath you.

“That guy Josh who kept hitting on you,” Rami explained.

“That must have been horrible, Y/N,” Lucy gushed sympathetically.

“It’s okay, I think he got the message eventually.”

“How come you said no? Just cause you work together?” Gwil questioned.

You shrugged, “I mean I wasn’t attracted to him, but working together basically put paid to it from the start.”

“Would you ever break the rule?” Joe asked.

You had to stop yourself from glancing at Ben, but the urge was instinctive. “If had an absolute guarantee that it wouldn’t come back to bite me then sure, but no one can guarantee that.”

“What do you mean, ‘come back to bite you’?”

“Say I slept with you Joe,” you ignored his self-satisfied smirk, “and maybe one of us developed feelings for the other, or it got awkward between us, or we fell out, that could cost me my job and my reputation.”

“Oh come on, you wouldn’t get fired for hurt feelings,” he scoffed.

“No Joe, you wouldn’t get fired for hurt feelings, I very much could. I’m expendable. If you kicked off and it damaged the on-set environment, the easiest way to solve that problem is to remove one of us, and it sure as hell won’t be you that gets sacked.”

The guys seemed shocked: they had clearly never thought of it from the perspective of those on the other side of the camera.

“Surely they wouldn’t just fire you though?” Gwil reasoned.

You scoffed, “Producers like quick, easy solutions. Firing me and hiring one of the hundreds of people who would cut off their arm for this job is quick and easy. Believe me, they would.”

“You’re not expendable, Y/N,” Ben asserted. You opened your mouth to retaliate, but he cut you off, “You’re amazing at your job, I’ve never felt so at home on set and that’s down to you. You understand people, you know how to get the best out of everyone. I wouldn’t be surprised if this film collapsed without you.”

You smiled bashfully, a little embarrassed but warmed by his words. “Thanks, Ben,” you breathed.

“Okay, so if there was one person you’d break the rule for, who would it be?” Joe pressed.

Ben’s name danced on your tongue. “Oh Hardy, for sure,” you smirked at the look on Joe’s face, “Tom, that is.”

“Tom Hardy?”

“Yeah, I’m really into the whole rugged bad boy thing,” you grinned. You looked pointedly at Ben who ran his tongue over his teeth under pursed lips.

You chatted aimlessly for a while, until Rami and Lucy made their excuses as they both had to be on set the next day. The scene featured just the two of them and only required a limited crew, so you’d been allowed the day off. However, you, Ben, Gwil, and Joe stayed up for hours, talking about everything and nothing. Despite the extra space you stayed curled up with Ben, at one point you laid your legs horizontally over his, and his hand rested easily just below your knee. You were vaguely aware of Joe and Gwil eyeing the effortless propinquity between you, but you didn’t care. A welcome, carefree contentedness had settled in you, and for the first time since Ben had tumbled drunk into your trailer so long ago you let yourself feel the way you did, and it set you free. Your feelings for Ben weren’t going to disappear straight away, so until they did you would just have to feel them, along with the inevitable longing that accompanied them when you reminded yourself that you couldn’t have him. But eventually they would pass, and you would move on.

tags: @anikatcmh @queen-turtle-boiii @orchideax @rogerspoison @my5secondsofneverland @mrsmazzello @ixchel-9275 @radiob-l-a-hblah @devin-marie @luvborhap @mercurycrowley @spaghetittiesbcimgay @valeriecarolinaw @saint-hardy @caborhapch @stephanie-everlasting @coldmuffinpartycloud @drowse13

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#kind of magic series #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bohemian rapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody fan fiction #queen #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #rami malek #lucy boynton #fluff #friends to lovers

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redfoxwritesstuff · 5 years ago

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The Things You Find (In the Rain) Chapter 4 (end)

This is it, Lovies. The end of this little exploration. As I said before, this idea started out as a one shot and just got too long. I’m so happy to hear that so many people enjoyed it so much, Lord knows I had fun writing it.

In other news- With school starting up next week for my daughter I’m looking to up my writing and posting schedule to twice a week. Next slatted for posting is a Mini Coffee shop AU series featuring Clint Barton where I’m challenging myself to see how many tropes I can hit. Along with it we’ve got A dark post IW Clint fic where we take time to explore what the world would have been like after the dusting. May have a few one shots in between before we ramp up for another BIG PROJECT- a Massive Tom series that will start with a night to remember (if only they could) in Vegas.

I won’t make you wait any longer- Chapter 4 is below the cut.

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Chapter 4:

As Maggie woke her mind slowly became aware of her surroundings. The bed she was on was soft, far softer than she typically slept on. Evan liked firm beds. It wasn’t right but she was so damn comfortable she didn’t want to move.

There were limbs wrapped around her. Long and warm, she felt safe in their embrace. A body was pressed up against her back, warm breath washing over her. Each breath they took was calm and steady, as if he belonged there. It was a man holding her, of that there was no room for doubt. He was stiff and solid against her behind though it was clear he was fast asleep.

Opening her eyes only made her instantly aware of the pounding in her head. Her stomach rolled and but steadied with a few deep breaths. Today she would pay for how much she had drank the day prior. The room smelled warm- the thought didn’t make sense to her right away. Warm wasn’t the right word for it. It reminded her of the way a forest smelled on a warm day, clean and woodsy.

The room she was in wasn’t a hotel room, that much was clear. It was personal though she didn’t see anything that would identify who’s room it was. The man behind her shifted and a contented sigh escaped him as his large hand slipped higher up her stomach and rapped around her side, just skimming the underside of her breast. It seemed he was as comfortable as she was.

Thinking back to the night before, Maggie found herself to be rather numb. She knew it happened. She knew her marriage was over. Yet it didn’t feel real.

It was clear as day to her that she wasn’t in bed with Evan. The man behind her smelled different than Evan. He felt different. His proportions were different, with arms and legs stretching out around her. Evan wasn’t one for cuddling and she would never wake up wrapped up in Evan’s arms like she was this man.

A strong leg moved up hers, hooking over her upper thigh and pulling her somehow closer. She could feel the mystery man’s chest expand with each breath. The leg wrapped around hers was strong and lean in addition to bare, making her question what exactly she had done the night prior.

This took her to her next realization in her slow working mind. That realization was that she was not in fact wearing any pants herself. What had she been wearing the night before? A dress, she remembered. She knew she was wearing something at least.

Shifting in an attempt to get some space and find out who exactly was behind her only resulted him the warm hand gripping her tighter, skin on skin. His hand was soft and strong and she didn’t find herself really wanting to be out of his arms.

Without warning, it all ended. The hand was yanked from as if she had burned him. He scooted back so violently that he crashed off the edge of the bed. She turned quickly and reached back for him, as if she could somehow catch him when he’d already gone over the edge with a solid thump that told her he landed on solid floors not covered with any carpet.

The movement was a terrible idea that she had regretted the moment she stopped moving. Her head exploded in pain. A groan escaped her lips as she crumpled back down on the mattress.

“Fuck, I am so sorry.” The man spoke from the floor, accent giving him away as a local as he scrambled, looking around frantically before running his hands through is wild mess of short curls.

“What happened?” Maggie slowly sat up, looking around carefully after looking down and finding herself wearing what she had to assume was one of his shirts. “Where am I?”

“I uh- You were sitting in the rain crying last night. Soaked to the bone. I couldn’t leave you out there and you couldn’t say where you were staying or where you wanted to go…”

“So you took me home? God, my head hurts.” Maggie cradled her head in her hands.

“yes.” A beat passed. “No! Not like that. It’s not what it looks like. I- We didn’t do anything. I swear I had clothes on when I got into the bed. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. You just didn’t want to be alone. I was going to leave as soon as you fell asleep... What the hell happened to my clothes?”

Maggie laughed and hated herself for it. God did it make her head hurt worse. This man clearly meant well and there was something comical about him, clearly not hungover and completely unaware of how he ended up in his state of undress. “Do you have anything for headaches?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Let me get you some toast too, it’s not good to take it on an empty stomach.” He stood and made his way toward the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and white shirt to slip on over his clingy gray boxers. It was sad to see the muscle that seemed to cover his lean form hidden away. Maggie wondered if all his clothes clung to him as he walked out, leaving her alone in his bed.

At the foot of the bed she saw her discarded dress and near it, a folded pair of shorts. He must have intended her to wear them though she wondered why she never put them on. She must have been too drunk. It seemed safe to assume that the mystery man had told the truth and nothing had happened.

“Here.” The man came back with a bottle of water and a few pills in one hand and a slice of toast in the other.

She wasted no time in popping the pills into her mouth. It didn’t occur to her how damn thirsty she was until the water touched her tongue. She quickly began downing the water.

“Don’t- Not too much at once, you’ll make yourself sicker.”

“You’re right, I know. Thank you. I don’t even know you’re-” She finally looked up and him as she was speaking. It was the first time she remembered seeing his face clearly. His wild hair was pushed back from his face and he was scruffier than she had seen in photographs but there was no doubt in her mind. “Tom Hiddleston. Fuck.”

Sheepishly, he smiled. “So you do recognize me. Breakfast? I can make something or we can order in.”

“You mean I didn’t know who you were last night?” Maggie gaped. She’d already seen this man nearly naked before she had ever set foot in London. Evan and her had argued about her watching The Night Manager a few months prior.

“You had gotten so drunk that you didn’t know me from Adam.” Tom shrugged. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.” Maggie followed Tom out of his bedroom while trying to put her thoughts in order.

She remembered crying on a brown dog. The same dog greeted her in the hall. Her mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that she had cried on Tom Hiddleston’s dog. She was wearing his clothes. She was in his home.

With a start she realized that she had slept in his bed. With him. To wake with him wrapped around her was something countless people dreamed of. She knew first hand how firm his body felt pressed against her in his sleep. Hell, she even knew if speculation was true regarding the size of-

“Here you go.” Tom set a mug filled with coffee on the counter next to sugar and cream, snapping her out of her impure thoughts.

“Thank you.” The mug felt good in her hands. Warm and real, something to remind her that this wasn’t some very weird dream. “I’m sorry for putting you out.”

“No, no. It’s no trouble. I’m sorry for…” He waved his hand toward the bedroom. “That was inappropriate and not my intention.” That stung a bit and Maggie looked down at the mug. “Not that you’re not an attractive woman. You are. Very. I’m making a tit out of myself, aren’t I?”

Maggie couldn’t help but laugh, his somewhat awkward words soothing the sting. Her emotions were raw. “It’s fine.”

“Breakfast. What would you like?”

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

It was painfully awkward while Tom set about making pancakes and eggs. Maggie was thankful for the chance to escape into the warmth of the shower. His shower. Tom Hiddleston’s shower. Wasn’t that a thought?

As she soaked up the warmth, she tried to wrap her mind around he last 24 hours. Of all the people in London to find her wasted and broken, it was him. She wondered if it was some cosmic joke. That couldn’t be right however, he had been nothing but kind to her.

“Emma left a change of clothes here a few months ago. I think they might fit you. They’re right outside the door.” Tom’s voice came muffled through the door. How could he be so kind? “I figured you’d not want to wear that dress all day agin.”

“Thank you, I’ll be right out.” What a strange day indeed.

“Take your time.”

For how awkward the morning started, Maggie was significantly more relaxed with her stomach settled with food and the night before washed off of her. Bobby rested at their feet between the small dining table.

They talked about anything and everything except the one think Maggie knew he wanted to ask about. He did well at hiding his curiosity as she had expected, he was an actor after all. It was human nature to be curious though and so she expected it.

“I don’t remember much about last night, after I left. I don’t even remember meeting you.” Maggie admitted somewhat randomly when the conversation stalled.

“You didn’t recognize me at the time so does it really count as meeting me?” Tom joked.

“Fair enough.” Maggie laughed. “I remember… I remember why I was out there though. I remember what drove me out.”

“You told me last night. Do you want to talk about it?” With eyes cast downward, Tom picked at his nails. “It wasn’t right, what he did to you.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “Do you remember where you were staying?”

“Yeah. You probably want your day back. I’ll get out of your hair. I can- how do you want me to get the clothes back to you?”

“I know you may not remember but I meant what I said yesterday.”

“I- What did you say?” She felt so dumb. The night prior had begun to come back in small fragmented pieces that lacked context. She remembered being cold, wet and tired more than anything else.

“I offered the guest bed.” Tom reached out and rested his large hand over hers. “I also offered to go with you to get your things from him. I know you may not want my help, that I might be overstepping. I know you could even decide to go back to him- though I think that’s a poor choice. You deserve better.”

“I can’t stay with you. I mean- you’re-” Maggie waved her hand at him.

“A human being?” Though she tried not to, she laughed at that.

He knew that wasn’t what she meant. He knew she was right, he shouldn’t let her stay with him. He’s allowed so much more to happen that he was sure Luke would pitch a proper fit over. To help her get her things during daylight hours, in a public place and get involved with the drama of another person. “Just think about it. If you figure something else out, great. But know that I’ll not turn you out on the streets.”

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

Maggie felt like vomiting as she stood in the brightly lit hotel hallway. She didn’t want to be there. There were a million places she would have rather been at that moment. Of all the vile places she could be, she was walking toward the most vile of them all.

Long warm fingers wrapped around her hand. It surprised her. In her moment of dread, she had forgotten that she wasn’t alone. With a firm squeeze of his hand she was reminded that he was there, right next to her.

“I’m right here. I’ll wait right here unless you call for me, unless you need me.”

He let his hand slip from hers and leaned back against the wall. Just up ahead was the door. They both knew she needed to go. Unless asked, he couldn’t go for her, do it for her. It was something she needed to do.

Tom had begun to feel attached to her very quickly. He was protective of her. It wasn’t logical but that didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did.

With one last nod, she walked slowly forward alone. It felt much like she was walking to a funeral. Perhaps that was more accurate than she thought. After all, was this not the funeral of her future? Of the life she could have had? Knocking on the door felt like standing in front of an open casket.

“Go the fuck away.” Evan’s voice came through the door, sounding rough and tired though it was nearly three in the afternoon. It had taken most of the day to find the strength to come here and not turn to run away. Looking back toward Tom, he offered a warm smile and a nod of his head. It was clear he had heard but still he stood strong, offering her his strength from a distance. Strength she needed to knock again on the door and call out.

“Evan, it’s- It’s Maggie.” There was banging around in the room before the door swung open to reveal a disheveled Evan. His hair was a mess and his shirt was wrinkled. Dark circles were under his eyes and for a moment Maggie had felt guilty.

That was, until she saw it. On his neck was a deep red mark. Lighter, trailing up his neck she could see more pink marks, proof of what had been done the night before.

“It’s about time you come back. Your phone’s off. I’m your husband, you don’t get to disappear on me.”

She couldn’t see it, but Tom tensed at the man’s words. It baffled him how anyone could talk to another, someone thy claimed to love in such a way. It wasn’t right. He had come to care for Maggie in the time they had spent together. She was kind, sweet and undeserving of such treatment. She was someone he could easily call a friend or perhaps more.

“I’m you’re wife.” The words were weak as she spoke them. “You don’t get to cheat on me.”

Tom didn’t like to hear her speak of her marriage in the present tense but scolded himself. It was her life.

Evan stepped aside and Tom watched as she disappeared into the room. With quick steps he made it to the door, softly preventing it from latching shut behind Evan as he followed her into the room. He wanted to be able to hear what was said. More than anything however he wanted to be able to go to her if she needed him. Evan was one man he didn’t trust at all.

“It was just sex.” Maggie scoffed at the words. “Where have you been? Who’s clothes are those?”

Maggie didn’t answer right away as she gathered the few things she had unpacked and slipped them in her suitcase. “It doesn’t matter.”

Tom backed away from the door as Maggie pulled it open, setting one bag outside the door before going back inside. It was comforting to see Tom right there outside the door, waiting. He was there. She wasn’t alone. The door was left open this time and he was thankful for it.

“What are you doing?” Evan asked as she grabbed her last bag, checking again that she had everything.

“Leaving.” It was such a simple answer. Maggie looked down to her feet. Near the dresser she could see the pile of cooled wax and she remembered how the burn was almost welcome at the time. If not for the sudden pain she very well could have fallen to the ground and simply sat there watching.

She was almost to the door when his strong hand clamped around her arm, pulling her back. Yanking away did nothing, his grip was too strong. It hurt as his fingers dug into her skin.

“Let go.”

“No.” Evan growled. “You don’t get to leave before I’m done with you.”

Maggie yanked again but it did no good. Again she demanded that he remove his hand from her. When he did not she swung the bag toward him only to have him catch it by the strap, pull it from her and toss it aside. The bag hit the small table near the door causing a vase to crash to the ground as Maggie continued to try and free herself from Evan’s grip.

What happened next, Maggie wasn’t able to be sure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Tom’s heart dropped as he listened to the words being spoke inside. When it was clear Evan wasn’t going to let her go, he knew he had to act. As the vase shattered on the ground in front of his feet, Tom reached out and grabbed Evan’s thin wrist and squeezed. His strong fingers wrapped around and dug into the space between the bones. The shock and pain was enough to weaken Evan’s grip enough for Maggie to slip free.

“We’re done here.” The words were cold as ice. “Grab you’re stuff and head to the elevator, please. I’d like to have a word with Evan.”

With a nod, Maggie did what she was told. Her wrist hurt from where Evan had grabbed her and the skin was an angry red. It would likely bruise though she wished it wouldn’t. Tears welled in her eyes as she slowly made her way toward the elevator. All the fight was out of her.

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

“Who the hell are you?” Evan snapped. “This doesn’t involve you.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Tom squeezed just a bit harder before letting go of the man’s wrist. “I found her alone, piss drunk, soaked to the bloody bone and crying. She’d no idea where she was, where she was staying and she had no money. I took her in and made sure she was safe.”

“And fucked her too, I bet. Did you enjoy her second hand cunt?” Evan taunted and Tom’s fists balled.

“I didn’t take advantage of her. I haven’t so much as kissed her.”

“Oh, so you do have some standards. Looking to be a knight to a woman we both know is too ugly for either of us? She’s lucky I married her-”

Evan’s words were cut off rather abruptly. The force of Tom’s fist colliding with his jaw knocked him back a step. Both men were equally stunned as Evan’s hand touched his jaw. Blood slowly began collecting in the corner of his mouth.

Tom’s mind was moving faster than he could keep up. Each breath was labored and his fists still clenched. Luke was going to fucking kill him but it was too late to worry about that now. He didn’t even remember pulling back his arm and swinging for the asshole’s head. Yet he still felt the satisfaction.

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that.” Tom snapped, his voice rising uncharacteristically. It did nothing to quell the anger that seemed to be building within him. “Don’t you dare talk about her. Don’t you dare look at her. Don’t you dare speak about her. Don’t you dare. When the papers come you will sign them. You are a vile excuse for a man.”

Turning on his heel, Tom stormed out of the room. In the hall, he nearly collided with a woman who instantly recognized him. It took everything he had to school his features as she called to him, asking for an autograph or a picture- he wasn’t sure which.

“Now isn’t a good time, I’m afraid. My apologies.” There was a frosty edge to his voice that he wished he could have hidden. The woman nodded and made her way down the hall, happy to have gotten a moment to tell him how she loved his work even if she didn’t get to leave with a part of him.

Maggie called the elevator as Tom got closer. She tried to wipe the tears away from her face but new ones simply replaced them. At least her crying was slowing. She had been confronted by reality and she would survive.

“Is your arm alright, Darling?” Tom softly asked as the elevator doors slowly opened.

“I think so.” Holding the arm out for him, his fingers softly traced over mark that was beginning to bruise. Softly he brought her wrist to his lips and kissed the underside where the bruising was already the worst. The simple action mesmerized Maggie and her heart ached at the kindness in his touch.

“That should have never happened to you- to anyone.”

“Life sucks sometimes.” Maggie shrugged, thankful that the tears had slowed now. It was hard but she was trying to put on a brave face. “What happened back there?”

“A fan asked for a picture. Or an autograph?” Tom shrugged. “I told them it wasn’t a good time.”

“That’s not what I talking about.” Maggie looked down, watching her feet. This was it- if she had her way she would never see Evan again. What the future holds for her, she couldn’t say. All she knew is it didn’t hold Evan anymore.

“I know.” Tom absentmindedly rubbed his knuckles. They were a bit sore but that was all. It was more the memory of what he had done that drove the action. Part of him knew it was uncalled for but he couldn’t make himself regret it. What he did regret was that he had done it while blinded by rage. “I punched him.”

“You what?” Maggie gaped.

“He deserved it.” Tom said as if that justified physical violence.

He had let to let go of his gentle grip on her wrist. Carefully he pulled her to face him while they waited out the elevator ride surrounded by her things. “Do not ever allow anyone to treat you like that. Everything he said about you was wrong.”

“Then why did he do it? I didn’t get the chance to ask him why.” Tom’s fingers tilted her face up so that he could look her in the eyes as he spoke. He wanted no doubt that she heard his words.

“He did it because he was a selfish coward. He did it because he took you for granted. He did it because he doesn’t love you.”

“Maybe I’m unlovable? Why would-”

“You’re not.” Tom’s voice was harsher than he intended. “There isn’t anything wrong with you. It wasn’t you.”

“How do you know?” His heart was breaking for her. She looked so broken standing there as the elevator passed floor after floor. He would give anything in the world to be able to convince her that she was perfect just the way she was.

“Because I could see myself falling in love with you if given the chance.” The admission was whispered on his breath, a secret he had no right to tell.

His lips ghosted over hers. When had he gotten closer to her? Her mind was reeling, trying to keep up, trying to make sense of what was happening.

The doors of the elevator pinged as they opened but neither noticed until it was too late. A woman was waiting, phone out and hopeful. Her mind however seemed to short circuit as she saw her idol with an unknown woman. The sight of someone, phone out and ready for a picture brought reality down for Tom.

He gathered her bags, not allowing her to carry anything. With a cock of his head he started out, leading her with confidence while the woman asked for pictures with him. Politely he turned her down repeatedly and prayed for no trouble hailing a taxi.

In this area, luck was on his side. Few other people seemed to recognize him. Most of those that did didn’t seem to care. Still, Maggie wasn’t an idiot. Someone may have gotten a picture of them leaving the hotel together. During the day. Around checkout. It would be easy to get the wrong idea. Was it the wrong idea?

“Are you going to be in trouble?” She asked as they settled into the back of the taxi just a moment before it pulled from the curb.

“Why would I be?” Eventually, Tom would have to learn that playing dumb with her didn’t work.

“She could have gotten a picture of us almost…”

“Kissing?” A quick glance over rewarded him with the sight of her blushing face.

“Yeah. I mean, maybe? Is that- That’s what that-” He laughed at her. Honestly she wanted to slap him for it but she was far too unsure of herself to actually do anything more than stammer.

“Yes, that’s what it was.” Tom sighed and rested his head back. “I realize it’s terrible timing and rather inappropriate but I couldn’t not do it.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because I care for you. Because it was killing me to listen to how he spoke to you. Because it kills me knowing you’re married to him- that you could go back to him. Be-”

“I wont. I can’t.”

“Good.” Tom’s hand settled over hers. “I kissed you because I wanted to. I want to make the pain go away. I want to know you’re safe. I want you to never think about him again because you’re too busy thinking of me. I kissed you because I grew to care about you very quickly today.”

“Tom-”

“I feel like you see right through me. After the shock of this morning wore off- you treated me as anyone else. I know you’re here just for a short while. I know everything’s up in the air in your life right now thanks to what he did but if I could- If it’s not too much to ask at least- Stay in touch? Keep me in mind? If you can even- give me a chance?”

When she didn’t say anything, wouldn’t look at him he figured he pushed too hard. Really, he knew he was asking for a lot. She was hardly out of a clearly toxic relationship and a lived a world away. All she knew of him was what the public knew and what she learned of him today.

“I’m sorry- I’m asking for too much.”

“No, no. Just- I’m scared. I don’t even know where I’m going to live when I go back to the States. I still- I’m so thankful for you being here with me, for me. You don’t even know me. You don’t have to be here.” Finally she looked up at him to find him already looking at her with a warm yet intense gaze.

“I’d be lying if I said the prospect of starting anything didn’t scare me, let alone starting with someone who lives so far away. But if you were to want to give me a shot- I’d understand if it is too soon. I expect it is, to be honest but if you decide later even. I just want you to know I’m interested, I care and I find you worth the risk.”

Maggie was thankful that he allowed her to finish out the ride back to his place in silence. Still, she hated how the air around him felt cooler and his eyes remained trained out the window.

The taxi came to a stop and Tom quickly went about paying and retrieving her bags. He had time to talk himself out of his rather blue mood and offered her a warm smile as she picked up a bag.

“I can get them for you.”

“I can carry my own things. At least some of it.”

He didn’t argue at least. Reaching the front door, he set the bag down and quickly set about unlocking it. She was prepared when he turned and leaned down to pick up the suitcase.

Maggie reached out and steadied herself with a hand on his chest. The contact stalled him and their eyes met in silent question. Maggie leaned forward and slowly, softly brushed her lips against his before adding more pressure.

Tom’s arm reached around her back. Pulling her to him, he deepened the kiss. It was risky, kissing the woman he may have been spotted leaving a hotel with on his front step for all the world to see but at that moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. She clung to him as if her life depended on him.

“I’m here for a week, that’s it.” She whispered when they parted.

“Change your ticket. I don’t want you flying out next to him. I don’t care how much it costs.”

This time it was Tom who pressed his lips to hers. As he kissed her, he pushed and tossed the bags inside before pulling her inside and pressing her against the door the moment it latched shut.

“Make me forget about him.” Maggie begged and he wasn’t one to deny the request.

While Tom worked to replace every memory of Evan’s touch on her body the internet was an active place. People speculated and gossiped as they were prone to do. Rumors spurred of Tom stealing away with a new American bride, leaving her husband with a dislocated jaw in what had been their honeymoon suite. Mr. Evan Carter wasted no time in selling his sob story to the world.

Forgotten and ignored on the floor, Tom’s phone rang and went to voicemail repeatedly as Luke grew more frustrated with his charge with each ignored call and new picture that surfaced.

These were issues for another day.

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Tag list: @just-the-hiddles, @jennytwoshoes, @alexakeyloveloki, @dangertoozmanykids101, @theoneanna, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @bambamwolf87, @missaphrodite23, @j-u-s-t-4, @wegingerangelica, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl, @iloveyouthreethousand-o6

#tom hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston X Original Character #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x oc

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wishfulfanficing · 7 years ago

Text

After Ben

-6-

Come here, kiddo… come here, Ben. It’s ok, take my hand… I won’t let you fall. Come here. Let’s go home.

His father’s touch on his naked cheek. The hum of the lightsaber. The fall.

Han’s flickering life force, dimming and dimming and extinguishing with a puff of black, thick smoke.

Ben… Ben…

Kylo Ran shot straight up in bed, his father’s voice still echoing in his ears. His chamber was completely dark and his blankets corse; despite the cold, he felt beads of sweat drip from his temple down his cheek and slip under his chin.

“Fuck,” he swore aloud, his voice scratchy and his mouth dry. “Fuck.” —

“HAN.”

The tone of Leia’s voice woke him up right away and he pulled himself up to meet her eye level. “Sweetheart… nightmare?”

Leia shook her head. “No… something else.”

He lifted his hand up to cup her cheek and she leaned into his touch. “What is it?” he asked gently.

“I don’t know… I’m not sure.”

Han breathed in and exhaled slowly. He was used to the nightmares and the panic attacks, but as he looked at his wife he could tell this was neither one. Her arms flew gingerly around his waist and he tightened his grip on her. “Do you think it could be…”

His sentence trailed off, but Leia knew. “Ben.”

Han nodded. “We were just in his room…”

It was Leia’s turn to nod; she bit her lip and swallowed hard. She often reached out to her son through the Force, but she had never done it with Han - and she’d never felt Ben reach back.

“Let’s get you outta here, huh?” he muttered to her. She snuggled a little closer to his chest and nodded. Han smiled into her hair and shifted to pick her up.

“Han, no…” she whispered.

He stopped dead and looked at her, eyes full of concern. “You ok? What’s wrong?”

She looked up at him and shook her head. “No… you’re hurt… I don’t wanna…”

Han smirked and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m ok, Princess… Let me carry you.” Leia’s face scrunched up in an unconvinced look. “And if it starts to hurt, I’ll put you right down. Deal?”

Leia smiled and reached her hand out for his. “Ok, hotshot. Deal.” She squirmed and settled into his hold as he lifted

“Ooofff… this is a little harder than I remember,” he joked.

“It’s cuz of your massive injury, right?” She positioned her elbow right above his bandage and scrunched her nose again, anticipating his answer.

“Sure, sweetheart… exactly.” He grinned and kissed the bridge of her nose. “But seriously: I’m just injured, not dead.”

“And thank God.”

— Rey stirred her tea, creating tiny whirlpools then letting go of the spoon; she chewed on her lip as she watched it swirl around and around, listening to the clink of the metal against the ceramic. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear Han and Leia come down the stairs.

“We made it, sweetheart,” Han puffed exaggeratedly as he set Leia down on the kitchen floor, then headed straight for the couch in the nook.

“My hero.” Leia rolled her eyes, then walked tower to Han to kiss him on the cheek. “Hi baby,” she smiled at Rey.

Rey smiled back weakly. “Hey. What are you doing down here?”

“It’s our house, kid,” Han quipped.

“I can’t sleep, so I came down here for a change of scenery. And this nerfherder followed me here,” she winked with a gesture toward her husband.

“Yeah, whatever, Your Worship…” He leaned in for a kiss and she obliged him with a smile, settling down next to him.

“You ok, honey?” Leia asked as she reached over and tucked Rey’s hair behind her ear.

Rey smiled at Leia’s motherly touch. “Yeah, I’m ok… it’s just… oh my god.”

Leia’s head snapped around to see Finn standing at the top of the stairs in nothing but his plaid boxer shorts. “Dammit, kid, put some clothes on,” Han yelled.

Leia laughed, “It’s cold, Finn, honey, where’s your robe?”

Finn blushed and fidgeted with his hands, trying to cover himself as much as he could. “I’m sorry… I thought you were all in bed… I got thirsty… I’m sorry… shit I’m sorry…”

“It’s ok, baby, why don’t you go get your robe and come down here,” Leia said pointedly. “I’ll pour you some water while you’re at it.”

Finn nodded and turned around to head back down the upstairs hallway. “Walk, Finn, WALK!” Han called after him, then turned back to the women seated around the table. “He needs to walk… things are bouncing,” he explained.

Leia chucked as she reached for the water glass. “Yes, dear… you want water, Rey?”

“Yes please,” Rey piped up.

“How about some for your charming husband who carried you all the way down here?” Han teased.

“Of course, Captain Solo,” Leia winked. “Ice or no ice?” she asked Rey.

“No ice.” Rey pushed her tea mug away from her and sunk back in the couch. She looked at Han, who was looking at Leia and smiling absentmindedly. Leia looked back at him with a grin as she poured water into two glasses. Rey sighed contentedly and felt the calmness fill her lungs. Han noticed and winked at her, making Rey’s smile wider.

“No ice for you,” Leia set the glass down in front of Rey with a warm smile. “And ice, for he who herds the nerfs.”

“Thanks, beautiful.” Leia bent down and Han kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.” She ran her hands through his sandy grey hair and grinned.

“Oh look, Mr. Big Deal is back.” Han gestured to Finn, now fully clothed in his plaid pajamas and alliance t-shirt. “And he brought his other half!” Finn blushed agin as Poe, in a tank top and old pilot pants, tucked his head on Finn’s shoulder.

“It’s like a whole party down here,” Poe smirked. “What’s the occasion?”

“Nobody can sleep,” Rey muttered, scooting closer to Han to make room for the boys. Leia poured two more glasses and set them down in front of the couple, then snuggled in to Han’s lap, causing him to groan and grin.

“You know what would really make this a party…” Han trailed off, placing a kiss on Leia’s shoulder. “We got any Cornellian whiskey, sweetheart?”

Leia shook her head. “No, but we can get some… then it’d really be a party.”

Han nodded. “Time for the Little Fuckers to make themselves useful… Finn you’re the most clothed… ironically”

Finn jumped up excitedly. “Yes! I’ve never had any Corellian whiskey and I’ve always wanted to try it.”

“Oh, kiddo… remember this night. Your life is about to change.” Han’s smile got even bigger. “Go to the market on the corner of Brattle and Maas, they don't check ID there."

"HAN." Leia turned to give Han a death stare, which he met with an exaggerated scowl.

"Don't worry," Finn said. "I know EXACTLY where that is."

“Take Rey with you,” Leia insisted. “That way if one of you gets into trouble…”

“…the other one can be a witness.” Han winked at Rey, then turned to his wife. “Are you satisfied with their security detail, your Highnessness.”

Leia let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Send them out… into the night… cold…”

Rey laughed and kissed Leia’s head as she stood up. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“Will you leave before the whiskey goes bad?” Han pleaded, handing Rey a fistful of credits. The duo nodded and made a b-line for the front door.

Leia laughed. “That’d better be some damn fine whiskey.”

“Sweetheart…” Han’s hand shot to his heart as he feigned offense. “It’s Corellian.”

“Of course it is.” She stood up and traced her husband’s jawline with her fingers, settling on his cheek and placing a kiss to his forehead. “Fine whiskey like this needs fine goblets, not this crude matter.” She reluctantly stood up and reached for her slippers underneath the table. “I’ll go down to the storage unit and grab our wedding goblets.”

“Yes! Great idea. Those are so fucking fancy,” Han said excitedly.

“And they’re actually from Corellia,” Leia smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

Han watched Leia shuffle to the door in the kitchen that led to their storage unit. “That’s my wife,” he said proudly, partially to Poe and partially to himself.

Poe grinned. “Damn right.” The men sat for a moment, sipping their water in comfortable silence. “Actually, I’m kinda glad we came down here. I couldn’t sleep either.”

Han tapped his fingers against his glass. “Yeah? How come?”

Poe shrugged. “I’ve just been thinking about my dad… it’s coming up to the anniversary of when he died and that’s kinda… well, you know.”

Han nodded. “I know, kiddo. That’s rough, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Poe’s gaze moved to his glass. “It’s hard for me to talk about.”

“I bet,” Han said, “but with these kinds of things, talking about them… it can help a little.”

Poe nodded and rubbed the stubble on the side of his face. “I guess…”

“Leia said something interesting to me.” Han groaned as he adjusted the pillows underneath his back to sit up better. “She said, to call it out is to name is it, to name it is to control it, and to control it is to take away its power.” He paused and shrugged. “Maybe it’s one of those Jedi things, I don’t know, I always thought it was kinda…”

“Kinda what?”

“Not stupid, but you know… it worked for her but it wasn’t my style. But after everything that happened with Ben, when I was in the med center, I kind of understand now.”

Poe tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know… when I think about it, it’s overwhelming, like it’s happening to me all over again. But when I tell the story, it feels different. I dunno, probably some sort of control think that those psychologists are always going on about. But kiddo… it works.”

“Its ok… I mean, at least I had my dad.” Han looked at him quizzically; Poe continued. “I feel kinda bad, you know, like you never even knew your parents, and Finn…” He trailed off.

“Nah, it’s ok, I get it, it sucks.” Han smiled softly. “Have you talked to Finn about this? I’m sure if he knew…”

“I can’t… He was literally ripped from his family, he doesn’t wanna hear about me missing mine.”

“Eh, he loves you, Poe, and he’d wanna know so he can support you.”

“I see what you’re saying.” Poe shifted his posture in the couch and brought one leg to rest underneath himself. “But like… I feel really bad talking about it with Finn.”

“Cuz it feels like small potatoes compared to…” Poe made a large gesture that brought a smirk to Han’s face.

“Yeah, I get that…” Han rubbed his chin pensively. “Not to make it about me, but I get it. I’m married to Leia Organa, trauma queen of the universe.” Poe snorted as Han went on. “She’s been through some really fucked up shit. He shrugged. “And maybe some of that is me wanting to be the big man protecting the little princess or whatever, but I just felt wrong talking to her about some of this shit when she’d been through so much.” Han paused and leaned in closer to Poe. “I used to think she didn’t wanna hear about it, that it wasn’t as bad as what she went through. But kid… if you keep burying that down, it’ll come out somehow.” Poe nodded. He’d been there for Han’s headaches and body pain. “It’ll drive a wedge between you. Don’t let it,” Han continued as he put his hand on Poe’s shoulder. “Don’t give it any more power than it already has.”

#fan fic #star wars fanfic #au #star wars au #little fucker AU #little fuckers #poe x finn #han x leia #multipart #after ben #solo family

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secretlypg95 · 8 years ago

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We can make this work Cole Sprouse Imagine

A/N: So I will start to try to make imagines now. I love writing about Cole, only because I got to know him through the years of watching his shows, and know on Riverdale. I love how he is just so content with himself, isn’t afraid to be completely foolish no matter where he is. And it just makes it so much easier to feel like myself too. But that’s me. So here it is. This does have smut in it and hopefully I do a good job.

It was rather a nice night, nothing too exciting happened today, but none the less it was a good day. Especially with Cole being he for two months. I made dinner and put on our usual go-to-watch program, Criminal Minds. We’re 13 minutes into the episode and we already have our theories of who the killer is.

“Damn, Reed sure did change his look and God does it do him justice.” I say, before I bite my lip a little. Okay I do admit that I did say that just to get a rise out of Cole, but also because it is true.

“Please, they just did that so he can be more relatable for the show.” He says leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Excuse you I could say the same about you, Mr Forsythe,” using his character’s real name. “Well the cut of your hair wasn’t but you did die it. It’s called being committed Cole.” I say matter of factly.

“Touché,” he says now leaning back onto the couch.

“But you know, in a way he does remind me of you.” I say getting closer to him, siting Indian style no facing his right side.

“If you say because we’re both gawky, I’ll kill you.” he says sarcastically.

“Well you are a little socially awkward.” I say laughing, he just sighs and rolls his eyes with a smirk appear on his mouth. “No but seriously, you both are extremely smart, smarter than anyone in the room, tall, very handsome. Oh and did I say smart.” I say playing with his hair. As he lens into my hands he start to reply.

“Well I cant help but be the prettiest girl in the room. And the smart thing just comes natural.” he says coolly. We both laugh and that. God I love him, he kiss me, and leans us down as my back is on the couch cushion and he’s on top of me. When he breaks the kiss he says something so shocking, but as if it’s the most natural thing to say. “Let’s have a baby!”

“What.” shock is evident in my voice, but the good kind.

“Yeah why not (Y/N), I mean I'm gonna be 25 in a month, you’re 22. I think that we should actually make us serious with children. And come on we would be one of the coolest parents.” He says holding his weight up by his elbows resting just next to my ribs. “I mean you would the best MILF and I would be one hot DILF.” he says, as if he’s picturing our future kids friends just drooling over us.

“Well, you had me at Daddy I’d Love to Fuck.” I say running my hands through his hair bringing him closer to me. I kiss him hard but you could feel the love into it. “Yes, a million times yes.”

“Yeah?” he questions, his question is answered by me kissing him again. I can feel him getting up a little and he picks me up so my legs are around his waist. We don't break the kiss at all, until he sits me down on the bed. He starts to strip me down until I'm in nothing and I start to do the same until he’s beautifully bare. He lays down right next to me and puts the blanket half way over our bodies. I look at him confused at his actions.

He just smiles and says, “I’m nervous and I want to do this right with you.” we turn on ur side to face each other.

“We got all the time in the world,” I say as I start to kiss his neck and my hand makes its way to his almost hard member. I slightly move my fingers around it before I get a nice grip and start to stroke it back and forth. He’s already out of breath and moans my name. “(Y/N), Jesus I love the way you do that.” He says in between his moans.

He quickly gets his arm around me pulling me up so I'm straddling him now. I’m nervous because we’ve always used a condom, unless we were having oral. “I love you so much,” I say as he’s holding himself in his hands and I slowly make my way down as his hand now moves to my waist. “Cole.” I moan aloud as I get used to this bare feeling. God he feels so good inside me, especially like this.

I start to move up and down, slow at first and I lean to kiss him passionately. My hands run through his hair, his hands gripping my waist as I start to go faster little by little. We moan into each others mouths as we continue to kiss each other. We do this for two more minutes before we both cum for each other, as I slow down riding out our high together, I continue to rock my hips side-to-side now. Keeping eye contact with Cole makes it all feel so much better.

Apparently he couldn't take it anymore as he grunts and flips us over so now he’s in control. He thrusts into me so very generously, as he sucks on my neck I can feel him lifting up my right leg almost to my should making him go deeper and deeper into me. “talk to me, please baby.” I say pleadingly out of breath. I feel him nod as he stops sucking on my neck.

He slows down putting his hand on one of my breasts. “Oh baby girl look how innocent you look under me. You love it how I make you feel this good don’t you.”

“Yes Daddy, I love how you are the only one to ever make me feel this good.” I say scratching down his back over and over again. “Fuck that's good, oh...... shit.” I start to rub my clit in circles as it makes it satisfying my pleasure more. He snatches my hand, and grabs both my wrists over my head, but not that roughly.

“I didn’t give yo permission to touch yourself, (Y/N). That’s my job,” He says as he starts to rub my clit up and down as he continues to thrusting into me. His thrust become slower but he rubs faster making me scream his name as he sucks on one of my breasts. My back arches up making my legs close tighter around Cole’s waist and pulling him closer to me if that's even possible. Then he flips his actions and thrusts harder and slows his thumb on my clit, letting my wrists free with other hand, he grabs my waist firmly, steadying himself. I take that advantage and pull on his hair tightly. “Shit, baby girl, we’re almost there, are you ready to cum for me.” I moan out a yes while his movements are getting sloppy, as I cum and him right after me.

He slips out of me, still on his knees, running his hands down my legs. Both of us trying to catch our breaths before going at it for a third time. I get up to meet his position putting my arms around his neck and him kissing me. His hand on my waist making their way down to my ass and squeezing it. “Mmmh,” is my response before I turn around, my back facing his and put my weight on my elbows.

He moves closer to me, still with his hands resting on my ass. I gasp as he gazes his member above my vagina. “You’re so wet for me baby girl. I love it when you’re in need for me like this.” He says still doing the same action as I whimper in pleasure. Then he pushes himself into me finally, making the both of us blurt out profanities. he grips my long hair in his hand, and with the other he moves my hips back and forth slowly picking up his pace. A minute later, Cole puts his leg out as if he’s on one knee, he thrusts harder then before keeping his grip on my waist as well as in my hair.

He let’s go of my hair and I start to do my own movements. I move so now that he’s laying on his back and I’m straddling him in a backwards way. Just like as we did the first time. I bounce up and down causing him to yell my name in pleasure. I start to pick up my paste as he lifts himself more into me indicating that he’s so close, just as I am. Our movements again become very sloppy as we ride out our high together.

As we slowly come to a stop, I move so that I’m now laying next to a very heavy breathing Cole. He kisses my forehead pulling me closer to him. “If that doesn’t give us a baby, I don’t know what would.” he says, I tiredly laugh at his joke, but I kind of agree with him.

“I love you,” I say before kissing his jaw.

“I love you.” He says back. We fell asleep into each others arms.

I would love nothing more than to start a family with this man.

The next morning I wake up so sore. But I smile because I see Cole looking at me so lovingly. “What?” I say, so shy now.

“I love how innocent you are sometimes as if you weren’t just fucking the shit out of me last night, taking away my innocence from me.” He says bluntly. “But I know that it’s only for me and fucking love it.” He says kissing me. “Ohh, yeah I’m sore. Shit if I knew I had to tell you I wanted a baby to get sex like that, we would of had a whole team of kids right now.” we both laugh at his joke, and agin I agree with him.

“Okay Sprouse.” I smile at him. “ Now all we have to is wait. Maybe a couple of weeks.” I say.

“What, yeah of course but now that I know you’re serious, I think we should keep doing what we’re doing every night.” he says pulling me closer to him by my waist.

“That does sound tempting.” I say, playing with his hair. We stay like this for as long as we could. And like he wanted, we do this for the next week.

MASTERLIST

A/N: And that is it for this part. You know for my first smut I think I did really good. Stay tune for part 2. Thank you and Love you all!

#cole sprouse #jughead jones #cole sprouse imagine #jughead jones imagine #riverdale

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bullshitallergies · 7 years ago

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Snap Judgements For The New Year!

January 15, 2018 1:30 am

Woods Ave.

1:30 am- wasn’t really super prepared for company at 4:30 pm on a Sunday but I was grateful that ash and dude came by considering I wasted all my money on trash. I’m used to ash’s lazy ass gay joke making self but I originally had no intention of doing any speed and I don’t regret the choice to partake, but I really want this dude to stop carpet farming and either sit still and stop dropping things every 30 seconds or leave.

1:34 am: omg can you sit the Fuck down dude.

1:36 am: this shit is super clean feeling and nice. It’s making me want to write all the words and fuck all the Kenny Owen.

1:37 am: I’m serious I really want to bang my Kenny rn.

1:38 am: I’m terrified that I’ve done hard to come down from chemicals without having any pot around. Pot is my rock.

1:38 am: every day I am 25-90% completely bummed out about and missing my Boognish. He is about to turn 11 yo and before we know it he’s going to be over hanging out and being interested in adults. It kills me to be away from him and it kills me that because I’m involved and she hates me so much, Kenny’s mom has limited Cortlands ability to see or even talk on the phone with Kenny. I am beyond secondary in this situation. I don’t matter at all, but Kenny matters. Cortland needs his father. Kenny needs his boog. Kenny doesn’t like to talk about any of this I know it’s the worst thing he’s ever had to deal with ( which is fucking saying something) but I wish that he could just talk rationally to his mother with rational results, which is a Fucking pipe dream.

1:44am: it strongly and regularly is really bothering me that Kenny’s mother has no intention of being kind or forthcoming with information in regards to Cortlands desperate need to know his mother and gain some understanding and peace of mind that despite being massively flawed, Amber loved him with all of her heart. It’s important that Mary not frame her as useless or unworthy of his love or as if he meant next to nothing to her. It’s important that he knows she died trying to get back to him. I think it’s possibly the most cruel act of selfish petulance I’ve ever seen in an adult to allow Mary’s opinion about Amber be what governs Cortlands feelings about her. It makes me sick that she shuts him down and isn’t willing to share basic information about his own mother simply because she didn’t like Amber. It makes me so angry on a daily basis that Cortland can’t pick up the phone and call Kenny or myself to ask questions(about anything in his life especially His mom) and that Mary uses her negative opinion of me as a scapegoat instead of being reasonable and allowing Cortland access to vital information and emotional security that only Kenny can provide. And it makes me sick that after nearly eleven years it’s inconceivable to Mary that Cortland have a positive image of his mom, as if there were nothing to love in her. As if she was nothing at all.

1:56am: every motherfuxker in this apartment has their nose to the ground digging through everything trying to find god knows what that this dude is losing track of every five minutes. Also, the next damn thing to fall on this floor at this time of night, surely startling my neighbor again and agin, is going to be flung across the room and land squarely about the head and face.

1:58am: I feel like a weak pussy ass bitch for not being totally sober, as if sobriety and gainful employment weren’t the two dragons to slay to get Boog back as efficiently as possible so Mary’s opinion and decisions aren’t the only thing shaping Cortlands perceptions and actions and feelings. It’s a fucking excuse but it’s true: the primary reason I was able to overcome my crack problem was having Cortland in my daily life and becoming partially responsible for him along with Kenny. It’s easy to say no when my days weren’t filled with self pity. It wasn’t easy, but my love for he and Kenny was unquestionably the most worthwhile reason I’ve ever changed. Without seeing boog regularly it’s hard to maintain focus on working toward sobriety and easy to fall into the habits that make the multitude of days without him seem less pointless and empty. It doesn’t make anything any better when we aren’t even 4 full months into the custodial assignment to Mary and she has made it clear that she intends to keep him for the long hall and has no interest in raising him in a way that is also agreeable to Kenny. I don’t know how to be strong and hopeful when this woman hates me so much. I feel like a useless shrivel of failure every day, and it makes me want to use. I have got to grow a fucking sack here. No matter what it takes. And I’m not sure where to begin.

2:09am: I worry pretty frequently that I am a terrible girlfriend to Kenny because we are both addicts. I want to inspire him ane I want him to be able to feel free and independent so he is capable of growing in a positive way. I don’t want to be a burden or a drain, particularly I don’t want to be a directionless succubus distracting him from Cortland. I also fear that one day he will just suddenly go cold and decide to leave me because I am lazy, jobless, depressed, codependent on him and my mother, terrible at cleaning, uneducated in doing simple tasks, indesicive, without ambition, fat, negative and emotionally demanding. And that’s the short list of my flaws. I seriously can’t fathom why he loves me.

2:17am: I am so in love with Kenny and it has only gotten stronger. I’m mystified that he even exists or would want to be in my life. He is so beautiful and special, and I fall in love with him more every day. Yet I’m the asshole who welcomed Red into our home and thus started the odyssey into hell that was 2017. Kenny is so inscrutable. His emotions are the ultimate Mona Lisa smile to me. I know he analyzes everything with a strategic eye for detail, therefore how or why would that ever lead to thinking I’m anything other than a massive fucking anchor. In my heart and mind I know that Kenny is the only person for me, it just feels right and I could lay it all out but it will still feel right to me even if the cons outweigh the pros. I can only hope that Kenny feels this way about me unconditionally as well. The last couple of days have stoked my insecurity fire because we argued and he got mad enough to threaten to leave me. He told me he was sick of my Shit and he didn’t want to keep being in a scenario where I lose my temper if it’s happening once a month or more. He told me afterwards that he didn’t want to leave me but he sounded pretty certain that he was over it. Then yesterday, we both got almost zero sleep because for the first time ever I had a bad reaction to seroquel and spent twelve hours flailing uncontrollably and being so uncomfortable I was yelling through the night. He finally got up furious and told me if I did seroquel again he’d leave me. I tried to explain that I wasn’t intentionally trying To fuck up his sleep or torture him but he still issued that ultimatum. The reason this bothers me so much is because Kenny is usually strongly against ultimatums and if given one himself he opts out completely. So I have one day of feeling insecure that he’s sick of me to the point where he wants to leave and the next day being issued one of the only ultimatums he’s ever given me. Seems like he’s fucking over it and disgusted with me to boot.

2:30am: I feel paralyzed by the thought that Kenny is done with me while simultaneously thinking that he should be done with me of being done with me means he can get boog back as quickly as possible. I guess that this is what it feels like to recognize how I’m never going to be as great of a person, a parent, a lover and a friend as Kenny is. He deserves someone far better than me. Again, I just don’t want to be the burden that holds him back.

2:34am: idk how to take steps toward being the person Kenny deserves, but I desperately want to try my best to be that person. I don’t know where to begin. I just try to be as selfless as I can, support him in any way I can, listen and understand him as best I can. But what if all my efforts mean nothing and he doesn’t want a future with me? I am not strong enough to lose both of the most important and amazing people I’ve ever known in this lifetime and just move on or try again. Losing Kenny and Cortland would be the end of me whether I killed myself the day it ended or lived another 30 meaningless years of suffering without them, like a hollow Fucking shell.

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