#I’m gonna be paying to bring her ashes home too so I just need. some help if anyone can offer it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theasstour · 4 years ago

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𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟕𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

Tuesday, 13 December 2017

Tooley Street was always busy, whether there were a horde of people walking to and from the riverside and underground, or cars driving by at a ridiculous speed. London Bridge station on the other side of the road to where Y/N and the gang sat at Caffé Nero, looked like a small insect in comparison to The Shard that reached like a pillar above the partly cloudy winter sky. The blue painted brick building beside it, The Shipwright Arms pub, was a lively addition to an otherwise very bleak street.

The winter wind by the riverside was horrendous, but Y/N had offered to come with Annalise on her cigarette break, so she had only herself to blame for exposing herself to more of the biting cold than completely necessary. From where the two were sitting, they could just make out Tower Bridge behind them, bare trees rising up along the streets that indicated summer was long gone and winter had arrived.

Y/N had spent a lot of time just sitting outside the last few days. Whether it was on a bench by Regent’s Canal, in the grass at Shoreditch Park, or at a table outside a café with a coffee in hand. She had just been sitting there, staring out at nothing. Thinking. All she had been doing since finding that watch was think.

She had tried to find some kind of logical explanation as to why that watch had the coordinates for her family’s Newport cabin, but there was none. What kind of connection did George have to Newport? To that cabin? Had he just fucked her and left it there because he knew who Y/N’s sister was? And where was George now? She had not seen him since that night in October, was he still around? Or had Y/N just missed him when he had been, and this had all just been a huge coincidence. But Y/N somehow knew, deep down, that this was far from a coincidence and she should not treat it as one.

“You have to come to Monnickendam,” Annalise said, blowing out a puff of white smoke.

Y/N looked away from a man across the street who was arguing passionately with someone on his phone. Shoving the thoughts of the watch that was laid on her desk in her room, out of her head. She had not told anyone about it, this was not something she wanted everyone to know about because she had no idea what it meant. The only person that knew was Harry, and she would like to keep it that way.

“I’ve never been to the Netherlands,” Y/N said.

“Even more of a reason to come.”

Y/N smiled. “Buzzing. I haven’t travelled much in Europe, mostly been to Brazil with my family.”

“When you come to Monnickendam, we have to take the train to, like, Germany or France. Andorra is also so beautiful, I think you’re gonna love it.”

“Make a roadtrip out of it.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N’s smile grew. “Had you been to London before you came here for school?”

Annalise brought the cigarette up to her mouth. “Loads of times.”

“Really?”

“Yes, we went here around Easter in 2012 the first time, and I fell in love. Went here four more times, then to an Open Day last year.”

Y/N nodded. “Was Helmond your first choice then? Did you like it the best?”

“No, Battersea was, but I’m happy I ended up at Helmond.” Annalise breathed out white vapour. “Helmond’s prettier.”

Y/N laughed. “The aesthetic is more important than the uni itself, innit? If you can’t take decent Instagram pictures there, what’s the point of spending the next three years at that place?”

Annalise laughed along with Y/N, taking a last drag. “I rarely use Instagram.”

“I used to. I loved to like document my life, to let all my friends and family know what I was doing at all times. But then I found Snapchat, and it’s just better.”

“You know that if you, like, save a picture or video in the Snapchat app, Snapchat owns it?”

Y/N blinked.

“At least what someone at home told me once.”

“Doesn’t Instagram do the same?” Y/N asked.

“Think so,” Annalise said, walking over to the litter and stumping her cigarette out in the ash tray on top of it. “Ground rule: don’t save anything onto social media. Anyone can save and see your pictures.”

“Basically,” Y/N mumbled, looking over at the man she had watched earlier. He was still arguing with someone over the phone.

“Ready to head back inside?” Annalise asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N got up and the two strolled back over to the Caffé Nero their three other mates were sat in. Thian, Hayden, and Chloe were all sat with their laptops in front of them and books in the centre of the table behind their screens. Chloe was talking animatedly as Y/N and Annalise approached, Hayden busy with something on the laptop in front of them while Thian sat with a book in his hands, looking at Chloe as she spoke. Y/N took off her puffer jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair as she sat down, adjusting her black V-neck jumper and loose denim jeans.

“…the problem isn’t that. The problem is the fact that they never clean up after themselves. That’s the problem,” Chloe said, groaning loudly. “And when I ask in the flat groupchat if anyone wanna be social, no one answers. I swear, all of them hate me.”

“Maybe they’re just busy,” Thian suggested.

“They always say that, but I know two of the boys are in Dave’s room playing something on that PlayStation.” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “Should I learn how to play FIFA?”

“You don’t have to impress them,” Y/N said, turning her laptop back on to finish the essay for Critical Reading that was due that Friday.

“No, I know. But if I want to hang out with anyone in my flat, I gotta do something. What games do you play in the PlayStation, Thian?”

Thian stared at Chloe for a second, mouth working before he mumbled, “I didn’t bring one to uni.”

“Alright, then what did you play at home?”

“Call of Duty.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “Isn’t that a war game?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I’m not into that.” Chloe grimaced, looking at something further away. “I’ve never really played PlayStation. One of the blokes I dated in college gamed a lot, but I couldn’t be asked to sit around and just watch.”

“The three in my flat play GTA,” Y/N said. “At least that’s what Nathan wants to play, Harry and Mason just go along.”

Chloe’s face instantly lit up. “Oh, my word, Y/N. You have to make Harry teach me how to play something on the PlayStation.”

There was a slight pang in Y/N’s chest at the sound of his name leaving Chloe’s lips in that way. Y/N opened, then closed her mouth, then opened it again. “I don’t really hang out with them when they play it. I’ve had so much to do these past months.”

“That’s fine, Nathan can keep us company,” Chloe said, leaning back in her seat. “Make Mason come, too. God-“ She grinned, letting her head fall between her shoulder blades. “-Your flatmates are fit.”

“Harry’s fitter than Mason,” Hayden chimed in.

“No, definitely Mason,” Annalise said.

“I can’t choose. Depends on my mood,” Chloe mused.

Thian kept quiet, staring pointedly at his laptop.

“Can you do it? Make them teach me?” Chloe begged, sticking her bottom lip out at Y/N.

Y/N took a deep breath. “I’ll try.”

Chloe grinned.

“They might be busy, too. Might not get to it till after Christmas break.”

Chloe waved her hand. “That’s fine. I just want to hang out with someone from my flat eventually.”

Y/N glanced down at her laptop again, trying to forget the conversation she had just had with the other three. Chloe continued chattering on about something of no significance, Y/N did not care to listen as she wanted to finish her essay before she had to leave for home coming Saturday. Though her coffee was cold now as she took a sip of it, Y/N still appreciated the taste of caffeine. It woke her up, made her more alert and focused.

Ever since she was seven years old, her papai had made her coffee to drink. He always said “coffee is as vital to a Brazilian’s existence as tea is to a Brit’s” and she had drunk it ever since. She loved the taste of it much more than tea, but seeing as tea was much easier to make, she had come to resort to it here in London. Home in Nottingham, there was always a brew in the making or one ready for whoever felt like having a cup, made with a proper coffee machine that Davi had invested proper money in. He had bought it back in 2001, and it worked just as well as it did back then. Y/N, like her papai, loved the coffee from that old coffee maker more than anything else. She could not wait until she was home with her parents so she could drink proper coffee all the time without going to the nearest coffee shop to do so. The instant coffee Nathan often made smelled and tasted rank, Y/N would have no other coffee than her papai’s and a cup made at a coffee shop.

“I’m gonna go buy a muff,” Hayden said, getting up from their chair. “This essay is doing my head in, I need something to sooth the pain.”

“Oh, could you buy me a scone?” Thian asked, putting his hands together as if he was begging on his knees. “I’ll pay with five stellar knock knock jokes.”

“Make it six.”

“Deal.”

The two shook hands and Hayden grinned as they looked at the other three. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Y/N and Annalise chuckled. “No thanks,” Y/N said, Annalise saying the same thing.

“No, I’ll just add to this,” Chloe said, patting at her stomach.

“Add to what?” Hayden asked.

“A belly.” Chloe gripped the little that was protruding from her tight denim jeans. “I’m trying to start working out for bikini season, to remove that extra uni weight, you know?”

Hayden looked absolutely lost, so did Thian, and Annalise looked to not be paying any attention at all. Y/N, however, felt a familiar pang in her chest. It was a small explosion she had felt before, one that would taint the rest of her day. Instinctively, she put her scarf around her chest, letting it fall over her stomach.

Hayden did not comment, instead they just walked up to the till, ready to tell the lady working there their order. The table fell silent, but not for the reason Y/N wanted it to. No, they were all just busy with their essays. Y/N knew that it would be impossible for her to concentrate on the assignment now that the only thing she would be thinking about for the rest of the day was Chloe’s comment. Chancing a look over at her friend, she saw her flicking through a book in her lap, completely unbothered, Annalise was cocking her head to the side as she wrote something on her Mac, while Thian was watching Hayden pay for their food. None of them had batted an eyelash. Which was nothing new, Y/N was used to no one picking up on covered up fatphobic comments.

She knew that Chloe had not said those things with her in mind, that the statement had been about her own body only. But Y/N could not help but feel the comment in her very soul. She could remember her mates from school in Nottingham making comments similar to that one, so hearing it wasn’t alien, but it stung as much as hearing it that first time.

“Here we go,” Hayden said, putting the scone down on Thian’s keyboard.

“Scones are so bloody good,” Thian moaned, taking a huge bite out of his. “If we had to fuck a food, I’d fuck scones.”

The table went quiet, all looking at Thian. He just continued on eating, humming some Alesso and Conor Maynard song that was always playing on the radio.

“Why did you just say that?” Hayden asked.

“Felt like sharing my thoughts with the class.”

Hayden raised their eyebrows before looking at the laptop in front of them. “The class did not need to know.”

Thian shrugged his shoulders and Annalise laughed, Chloe joining in after a little while. Y/N smiled at them, but her thoughts still drifted back to Chloe’s comments just a minute earlier. She spread her scarf out over her stomach, wishing she had worn something that wasn’t so tight fitted.

Friday, 15 December 2017

“Sorry we’re late,” Mason said as him and the rest of the rugby team streamed into the seminar room. Hayden, Y/N, Thian, Chloe, Annalise, Nathan, and Annalise’s two friends were all sat around one table, already having started a round of Uno.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hayden smiled. “I’ve put Uno decks on the other tables.”

“Cheers.”

Mason and the rest of the team sat down, all chatting amongst themselves and letting go of heavy sighs as they took their seats. It was clear that the last training session for the team this year had not only been cold, but also immensely tiring. They all looked very ready to travel home for Christmas break, and it looked like a few already had.

Y/N felt their struggle with the cold. She herself was wearing a mini linen skater dress in black. The skirt was loose, making it comfortable to hide her belly in – she had not stopped thinking about Chloe’s comment all week, but it would not stop her from looking really fucking good – and the waist was open, baring some of her skin and rib tattoo to everyone. Her skin protruded around the straps that were wrapped around her waist, connecting her skirt from her top, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she just tried to stay out of Chloe’s vision. The plunge neck revealed a very deep cleavage and skin, making it so Y/N had put on two silver necklaces to top of the outfit. The rest of the top had long sleeves and a nice collar, which was why Y/N had bought the dress. It was slutty, but in a modest way.

The rest of the gang around the table had also dressed up, ready to go out after this. They all had their last lecture of the semester today, meaning that their Christmas break had just started, and they wanted to celebrate before everyone travelled to their separate locations the next day. Chloe to Oxford, Thian to Bristol, Hayden to Sheffield, Annalise to Monnickendam, and Y/N back home to Nottingham. It would be weird not to meet up with them, to not go to lectures and stress about assignments for the next month. Then again, Annalise had made a Snapchat and Messenger group to ensure that the gang would talk every single day. And knowing her mates, Y/N was sure they would.

During a break between rounds, Y/N got up from their table after making sure that her polyamide shorts underneath her dress didn’t roll down her stomach. She wore them to prevent chafing, knowing that if she did not wear them underneath her skirt, it would be hard for her to wear anything the next day. She did the zip of her chunky sock boots before making her way over to Mason’s table.

“Alright, Y/N?” Mason said as she came closer, giving her a small smile.

“How’re you lot finding the society?” she asked, looking around the table, meeting Kai’s eyes.

Kai beamed. “Good, it’s nice to spend some time with the whole team off the rugby pitch.”

“You’re dressed up,” Mason pointed out. “What’s the occasion?”

“Uno Society.”

Mason smiled. “Trying to pull some rugby players, are ya?”

“No. No, rugby players.”

Mason only raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her, smile widening.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re just as unbearable as Harry sometimes.”

“Nah, Harry’s worse than me.”

“Right.” Y/N took a big breath. “Chloe over there, the blonde,” Y/N said, motioning behind her with a nod of her head. Mason’s gaze immediately fell on Chloe. “She’s wondering if you and Harry can teach her how to play the PlayStation.”

Mason blinked, looking over at Kai as the bigger man clapped his hands together before laughing.

“Is that funny?” Y/N asked.

“No, it’s not. I just knew Kai would react like that,” Mason said. “But I’ll do it. After Christmas at some point.”

“Nice, I’ll tell her that, then.”

“Why does she need someone to teach her how to play PlayStation?” Kai asked, and though there was laughter in his voice, Y/N could tell his question was sincere.

“Some blokes in her flat never want to be social, they just stay in this one room playing PlayStation, and she’s kinda left out ‘cause she doesn’t really know how to play.”

“That might not work out,” Kai said, smiling still.

“Worth a shot, either way.”

“Maybe she just wanna spend time with this hunk,” Kai grinned, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “Or the other hunk that’s not here.”

“Speaking of him,” Y/N said, putting a hand on her hip. “Not that I care, but where is he?”

Kai grinned, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t care? Not at all?”

“No, Y/N doesn’t like Harry much,” Mason explained, completely unbothered. “He’s working. The team’s popping by The Stag’s Head later to check on him since it’s his last shift and all that.”

Y/N nodded, suddenly remembering how Harry had told her that a few weeks ago.

“What’s the bellend done to you?” Kai asked.

“Another time, Kai. We’re in the middle of a round,” Mason said. “I’ll find a day that’s good for Chloe to come over.”

“Wicked,” Y/N smiled. “See ya.”

“Later, mate.”

Y/N walked back to her table, sitting down in her seat again. “Sorry,” she said when Hayden gave her a look. “Chloe, Mason said he could teach you how to play PlayStation sometime after Christmas break.”

Chloe squealed. “Really?!”

“Yeah, he’ll text me saying when.”

“Ahh! Buzzing!”

Y/N gave her a smile before the gang went back to playing.

Though she was physically present over the next hour or so, Y/N’s mind travelled back to the flat and the watch on her desk. Besides assignments, Christmas, and what Chloe said on Tuesday, that was all Y/N had spent her time thinking about. She would be in bed, about to go to sleep, then just get out of her bed and look at the watch, study it carefully. Maybe there was another message of sorts on it, maybe she was supposed to do something with it. But other days she did not want to touch that watch. There was something about it, something about how it had just been left in her possession so casually, something about the fact that she had not seen George since that night, that did not sit right with Y/N at all.

Throughout the rest of the night, after the Uno Society, while the gang was sat at a pub, and then dancing at a club later, Y/N could not bring herself to enjoy herself thoroughly. All her energy went back to that watch. She wanted to understand what it meant, why George had it, and what she was supposed to do with the information. Was she even supposed to do anything at all? It only made her want to travel down to Newport even more. She had to now. Her parents might think about getting rid of that cabin, but Y/N had to revisit it one last time before that happened.

Y/N did not drink that night; she was afraid of the conspiracy theories she would form if she did. She had one cocktail at the pub they went to, but could not do more than that, and her mates did not ask questions as to why she was not drinking, something she really appreciated. It was late when she announced she would be going home, and so she called Nathan and made him stay on the line with her as she took the tube back to Haggerston Station. Once she reached Orsman Road, she could hear his snores on the other end, and hung up halfway down the road to the flat. However, in the distance, she saw a stag’s head sign hanging out on a metal pole, protruding from the building opposite her flat building. She suddenly remembered what Mason said, and crossed the road, making her way over to the pub.

A small group of lads made their way out of the pub as Y/N reached it, the last one holding the door for her. She smiled and thanked him before walking inside. Now that she wasn’t affected by alcohol, Y/N was finally able to take in the pub properly without having the slight haze of alcohol taint it. The lights were comfortably dimmed, not too much so you could not read the menu, but just enough so that a person’s facial features would be a tad blurry. The red that ran along the wall behind the dark bar counter was subtle, giving the bar a sense of holding onto the secrets of each person who walked through the front doors, like a Victorian murder mystery. Y/N could see Sweeney Todd’s barber shop trapped in the same colours.

“Excuse me, miss,” a man walking out from behind the counter said, grey hair and broad shoulders. “We’re closed.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around the dark pub. “I… I thought I might find Harry here.”

The man narrowed his eyes a little. “He’s got a new girlfriend? So soon after the other ones?”

Y/N felt herself narrow her eyes back at the man. Girlfriend? Harry’s had girlfriends – plural – since he started working in The Stag’s Head? There was a very strange combination of a lot of different feelings that swarmed around Y/N’s body, suddenly making her feel seasick. She was about to abort her mission, to say she would just catch Harry at home, when there came a voice from the door leading out into the smoking area.

“Y/N,” Harry said, turning the lights off outside and closing the door. It looked as if he could not quite believe his eyes as he saw her standing there, like he had not thought she would ever show up to his work like this. Without seemingly able to help himself, his green eyes fell down to her green dress and her exposed legs. He quickly looked to his other co-worker, clearing his throat as he walked behind the pub counter. Y/N could swear she saw a slight pink hue to his cheekbones.

“I’ll leave if you’re busy.”

“No,” Harry said, the word coming out a little too quickly as if desperation got the better of him. “No. Not busy.”

The grey-haired man raised his eyebrows at Harry. He must have seen something in Harry’s demeanour, because he said, “You’ll be alright to close up on your own?”

Harry smiled. “It’ll be a nice way to end my time at Stag’s Head.”

“Nice,” the man Y/N now suspected was Harry’s boss, said. “Pop by with the keys tomorrow, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

The man gave both Harry and Y/N a smile each before he started on his walk up to his office. The pub was suddenly very quiet, not a single sound came from inside, just the distant siren outside and the low buzz of the city. A place that was usually bustling with noise, energy, and anticipation, was now left with the latter. Y/N looked around the place, unsure of what to do with herself now that it was only her and Harry there. Harry watched her, picking up the Cif spray from where it stood under the counter. She felt his gaze on her as she walked along the booths, touching the red velvet cushions, a rush of goosebumps travelling up her spine at the knowledge that she had his full attention.

She turned around, leaning her bum against a table as she took in the liquor behind Harry. He was washing the counter, looking over at Y/N again, eyes falling to her mid-area that was expanded slightly at the pressure the surface behind her was providing. He quickly looked away again, biting his lips together as he focused on the counter in front of him. Y/N could not help a small smile.

“What made you show up to my work, then?” he asked.

“Can’t a friend show up to another friend’s work?”

Harry let out a strangled chuckle. “Alright. That’s very nice of you, but I don’t buy that for a single second.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “You don’t?”

“There’s gotta have been another reason as to why.”

“Okay…? What’s that?”

Harry shrugged his shoulder, spraying more Cif onto the counter. “You were bored. You didn’t want to be around your other mates any longer. You wanted to see a delicious man with an irresistible Northern accent clean up a pub since it’s his last shift ever here tonight.”

Y/N let out a laugh, placing her hands on either side of the table beside her. “None of the above.”

“Alright,” Harry said, coming out from behind the pub. “What didn’t I cover?”

“You weren’t at the Uno Society meeting.”

The answer came so effortlessly, as if her subconscious had been holding onto the answer for Y/N until she was strong enough to know the real reason. Her hands instantly gripped the table harder, feeling embarrassed for admitting vulnerability so easily. She blamed how easy it was to talk to him, how he just seemed to throw a lasso around her deepest secrets, her most private desires, and drag them out of her.

Harry looked over at her from where he was cleaning the tables a bit further away in the pub. “Had work. Would’ve been there if I didn’t have to be here.”

She nodded, looking down at her black boots. For some reason, his words warmed something inside her. Hearing someone care about something she cared about made her feel special. Then again, someone she just met on the street could tell her they hated Marmite, something Y/N also did, and she would feel equally as fuzzy inside. Finding small bonds, small preferences, small somethings that connected you to other people, made you feel like you weren’t alone, but it also made you feel special, made you feel seen and understood. It was as if someone opened a door into their soul, and giving you a warm handshake, welcoming you into them and their life.

“The lads had a blast,” Harry said, now closer to Y/N as she had zoned out for a minute and some.

“They did?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to just sit down and relax like that. We don’t really get to do that.”

Y/N watched as Harry hovered by a table, leaning over it to clean it. His black tee shirt stretched over his broad back, his shoulder blades visibly working as he ran the cloth over the table in front of him. The outline of his muscles, the way they were so hard against the soft fabric of the tee shirt, made Y/N’s body feel very hot all of a sudden. He worked so carefully, sliding his hand holding the cloth so slowly over the table, paying it his undivided attention. She adjusted her position against her table, looking away from Harry as he stood back up, his black trousers that had been tight around his buttocks, slacking at the lack of pressure on the material. Get a fucking grip, Y/N screamed at herself in her head, focusing on the wall in front of her. She saw Harry look at her over his shoulder, gaze lingering on her for a few seconds. Y/N suddenly found it very hard to draw a proper breath.

“You’re mad I didn’t show up?” Harry asked.

Y/N was silent, her brain completely blank. “Didn’t show up…?”

She could see his smug smile in her peripheral vision. “Yeah.”

“To what?”

His smile widened and he focused on a table closer to her. “The Uno Society.”

She closed her eyes. Her checking out Harry while he had his back to her had not just made her forget the whole reason why she had showed up to The Stag’s Head in the first place. His body looking the way it did, him caring about the society, him teasing her to get a reaction out of her… Why the fuck did he have that effect on her?

“No,” Y/N said, refusing to look at him still. “I’m not mad.”

“Then why won’t you look at me right now?”

Y/N could feel her hands instinctively grabbing harder onto the table behind her. “No reason.”

“You know,” Harry started, she could hear the smirk in his voice. “You can try all you want, but I still know you.”

She huffed. “You wish.”

“I don’t gotta,” he said, chuckling a little. “Don’t gotta wish when I already do know you. Wish I knew you better, wish you’d just open up to me like you did so easily before, but that’s for a later time.”

That made her look over at Harry, her eyebrows drawn together as she just watched him clean yet another table. He… Did he really think she would one day open up to him again and they would go back to being friends like they used to? Was he really that optimistic? Had he thought about it? About them and their friendship? And what a future with her alongside him at uni would look like? Her eyes landed on his bicep as it flexed, holding his body weight as he leaned against the table again. Her gaze following his arm all the way down to his hand, long slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the table, and the thick veins over the dorsal part of his hand made something in Y/N’s brain short circuit. That along with the casual way he was leaning his hips against the table, staring down at it with his head cocked.

What the fuck, Y/N said to herself again, looking away from him. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! How was she supposed to stay neutral, to not find him attractive, to not want to sink right back into old habits when she allowed herself to study him and look at him like that. She had to stop. This was getting out of hand.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight,” Harry said, working slowly as he cleaned up the table in the booth beside the one she was stood leaning against.

“No, I’ve just got things on my mind.”

“What things?”

Your broad shoulders. Your hands. The way you stick your tongue out of your mouth when you are concentrating. But Y/N said none of those things, as doing so would sentence her to a lifetime of humiliation.

“Insignificant things.”

“When they’re taking up a lot of space in your head and preventing you from being present, they’re not insignificant,” Harry said, sounding a little serious all of a sudden. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing inherently bad on my mind, just… I’ve got a lot of… thoughts,” Y/N said, not knowing how else to explain it without giving something away.

“What thoughts?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Thought you did Architectural Studies, didn’t know you also had a degree in being Nosy.”

Harry let out a laugh, coming to stand in front of her with the spray and the cloth in his hands. “I’m very nosy.”

“Glad to hear you’re self-aware.”

“But right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Bloody hell, Y/N thought, could he just fucking stop being so nice? So fucking adorable? And fit? It made hating him so much harder than it already was.

“I’m okay.”

He took a step closer. “What’s been on your mind then?”

“Just… life.”

“Has uni exhausted you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Harry took another step closer. Y/N’s palms were suddenly very clammy.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked again, a small smile on his lips as if he was challenging her.

“Maybe you just have to face the fact that I won’t tell you and you can’t figure it out on your own.”

“Nah,” Harry said. “I’ll figure you out.”

Y/N watched as Harry took another step closer, her heart suddenly beating very fast inside her chest.

“I just gotta…” He trailed off, now standing directly in front of her. Tip of his shoes against the tip of hers. Without a warning of sorts, he leaned closer, bending over her until his head hovered beside her own. Chest wavering above hers, touching as she drew in a precipitous breath and he did the same. Their bodies did not brush against one another again, an invisible, burning shield was built to keep them apart the second their upper bodies made contact. As if the universe was telling them that by touching like that, the world would go up in total flames around them.

Harry’s sudden closeness made her breathe in a little too harshly, she was sure he must have heard it but she simply did not care. The reaction her body was having to him being so close was electric, it made all the hairs on her body stand on end. She didn’t know what he was doing that close to her, thinking at first that he must have wanted to whisper something in her ear, to say something to her that would undoubtedly make her glad she was leaning against something solid for support.

But she heard the familiar sound of the Cif spray, and a second later, Harry reached his cloth behind Y/N’s back, cleaning the table. She felt his breath against her neck, triggering something radioactive inside her. The oud aroma of his cologne, with notes of cedar, patchouli, and spicy saffron filled Y/N’s nostrils. In those seconds when Harry hovered above her like that, his warm body inches from hers, breath fanning against her skin, his aroma, and aura mere inches from hers, Y/N was conflicted as to if she wanted time to speed up or slow down some more. She knew that if she stayed like that, with Harry so close to her, for much longer she would go absolutely mad and have an impossible time resisting him if he were to try something like he had done in the living room the week before.

No sooner had she thought that, he pushed off, face lingering just centimetres from hers. “I just need to take a look,” he said, speaking as if he did not mind if the whole world was watching them. He raised his hand, about to touch her chin. For what reason, Y/N did not know, but she didn’t ask any questions. However, he stopped, as if touching her was something he could not do. Y/N was glad he hadn’t, because God knows how her body would have reacted had he tenderly touched her jawline like it looked like he wanted to.

“Take a look?” Y/N mumbled.

“At you.”

A small breath left her lips.

“Maybe the answer to what’s been on your mind is somewhere in your eyes,” he said, eyes suddenly falling to her lips. “Or your lips.” He glanced at her forehead. “Or in the slight lines that appear between your eyebrows when you’re deep in thought.” He looked down at her hands on the table edge. “Or the way you’re gripping the table so tight right now.”

Jesus Christ, she was about to explode. Y/N let go of it immediately, standing up and forcing Harry to take two steps back. His intense glance lingered on her, falling to her lips as she opened her mouth to take a breath.

“It’s getting late,” she said, fingering the hem of her leather jacket as her heart continued to hammer away inside her chest.

“Wait for me, yeah?” Harry walked over to the next table to clean it, doing it way faster than all the other ones. Biting his lip and moving his hand with the cloth over the table as if to make up for time spent on something else, cleaning very slowly and standing too close to her.

“No, I can walk home by myself.”

“I know you’re capable of walking, but I don’t like you being out in the streets all alone late at night.”

Y/N looked over at Harry as he cleaned the last booth, seeing the determination to finish as quickly as possible.

“It’s just across the road,” she said.

“Please just let me walk you across the road, then.” Harry walked behind the bar counter, putting the cleaning supplies away.

“You make me sound like an old lady.”

“Just-“ He appeared from behind the counter. “-Wait.” He then disappeared into the backroom where he only stayed for a few seconds. Y/N would have thought that since he enjoyed working at The Stag’s Head, he would have at least lingered for a few moments to take in the last time he would ever be back there. But instead, he emerged wearing his coat, locking the door behind him, mere seconds later. He turned the lights off, and, walking over to where Y/N was standing, placed a gentle hand to her lower back, guiding her in the direction of the door that she could only barely make out in the dark. Goosebumps instantly ran up Y/N’s back and she inhaled at the pressure of Harry’s hand on her body. He held the door open for her and Y/N stepped outside, watching as Harry locked the front doors to The Stag’s Head for the very last time.

He looked around them after locking the door, checking up and down the three streets that came to a crossroad just outside the pub. Once his eyes finally met Y/N’s again he gave her the smallest smile, then motioned for her to lead the way back to their flat. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she could not find it in herself to do just that in that moment. Though it was just across the road, she very much appreciated Harry’s company back to their flat. Distance was nothing when the roads were dark and the faces of the figures walking past were left blurred by the dim streetlamps.

Harry held the door for Y/N once again, letting her be the first to enter the building. She strolled upstairs, unlocking their front door and watching as Harry gestured for her to walk on inside. The flat was dark, except for the warm yellow lights Nathan had twined around the railing of their terrace and the changing colours of the luminous Christmas tree in the living room. The kitchen was usually left in darkness, as was the rest of the flat, but since their eyes were used to night outside, it wasn’t hard to navigate their way to the stairs. They took their jackets off, and without her leather jacket on, Y/N was very aware of how much of her skin was exposed to Harry. Her dress showed off her legs, arms, and parts of her back to him, and she knew that, if he walked behind her up the stairs, he would get a good look at her bum.

She took her boots off and started up the stairs with her purse in her hand, hearing Harry make his way up them as well. If any man were to walk behind her up the stairs, Harry was one she trusted not to take the mick, to not look up her skirt and make her feel uncomfortable. But… after everything… she still didn’t want him to see her knickers. However, facing her door, she heard Harry walking up the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face him once he reached the first floor. What happened next happened so suddenly that Y/N barely managed to wrap her head around it before the moment was gone.

She had just turned around to face Harry when he walked up over to her. Taking a step back at the sudden closeness, she felt herself breathe in sharply as Harry’s face lingered only centimetres from her own again. Though the person standing in front of her was a man, a completely different person, something inside her brain took her back to that night when they were 16. He hadn’t been this close to her since then, had not touched her or looked at her like this since then. His eyes flicked down to her lips, and then to meet hers, wet lips parting as if the anticipation was killing him.

And Y/N had to painfully admit, it was killing her, too. As much as she had tried to fight it, it was impossible to now. She wanted Harry to kiss her. Not tenderly kiss her like you would peck a person you were in love with, or to gently rub his thumb over her cheek as a show of affection, or to hug her tight when they met up for lunch. No, she wanted him to fucking kiss her. She wanted him to grab her face and kiss her hard; desperately, needily. She wanted them to fumble to take each other’s clothes off, and for him to make up for how bad that first time together was. There was absolutely no denying it, Y/N wanted Harry. She really wanted him. All these months, all those moments spent trying to push the thought away, she simply could not anymore. There was a hunger inside her for him, but only in the sexual sense. She could never fall in love with this man, she just wanted to fuck him. And she wanted to fuck him bad.

Her own lips parted, and she looked into his eyes with an expression she hoped he could read, because she needed him to understand. Once again, Harry raised his hand, hovering between them as if he were unsure what to do with it. Fingers twitching, she could see he was conflicted, whether he should touch her cheek as it looked like he wanted to, or if he should stop himself. Y/N let her eyes fall to his hand, to tell him she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to feel him somewhere, anywhere on her. Just looking at him, she could see he wanted the same as her. He wanted to feel her body, to explore it in a completely different way to last time.

Harry’s hand fell out of view, and just as Y/N thought he was going to let it hang limply, uselessly, at his side, she felt something on her waist. A warm pressure, snaking around the black linen of her dress. She waited for him to pull her closer to him, for their torsos to connect, but it never happened.

“Y/N,” Harry whispered, eyes falling to her lips again.

She did not answer, instead just tilted her head so it would be easier for him to kiss her. With her eyelids hanging low over her eyes, her body language not showing any sign of protesting, and with her lips parted, Y/N hoped the message was coming across clearly. Harry leaned in closer, his nose almost touching hers. Her heart was beating so fast and hard it hurt. Her hands were clammy. All her attention focused on Harry and the electricity they created on that spot where his hand rested. He leaned down, lips hovering just over the crook of her neck, making her close her eyes. Breath against the hair of her shoulder, lightning shooting up Y/N’s back. He slowly leaned back out again, nose hovering beside hers. The anticipation was absolutely killing her.

“I…” But he drifted off, eyes falling to her lips again. She could feel his breath on her mouth, could smell his cologne. The tension was making her dizzy, she just wanted him to bloody kiss her already.

She was just about to do it herself when she felt his warm hand drop off her waist. She blinked, and the next second, Harry took a step back. He only looked at her, mouth working as if he was trying to find the right words to say, but there were none. So, as if blinking himself awake from a sort of dream, he took another step back. Suddenly, he opened the door into his room. He stopped in the doorway, looking back at Y/N. Again, he tried to say something that must have died on the tip of his tongue, because again, he did not utter a word. It looked like he physically could not say them out loud. Instead, he closed the door, leaving Y/N standing alone out in the dark hallway.

Y/N’s eyes rested on the door to the bathroom, trying to go over in her head where it had just happened. Had… Had Harry just walked away just now? Had he teased her in the pub, then done almost the same just now, only to walk away? What had gone wrong? Why had he not kissed her? What had made him step away? What had made him stop? Y/N could not answer a single one of the questions, and she doubted Harry would give her any. She closed her eyes, resting her head against her door behind her. This was exactly why she had not wanted to live with Harry, this was why she had not given in to his charms and flirts before. Now, because of what had just happened, because of how awkward that had just been, they were back to square one. Just living under the same roof as him infuriated her. She could not fucking stand Harry Styles.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 4th April, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets 🏛️ @sunflowerstache 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh 🏛️

FIC PAGE | COME TALK !!!

READ TWO CHAPTERS AHEAD ON PATREON | CHECK OUT THE OTHER FIVE EXCLUSIVE PATREON STORIES HERE!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #1dff #:DDDDDDDD PLS COME CHAT ILY ILY ILY :DDDDDDDDD

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eideticmemory · 4 years ago

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TWO GHOSTS II | MATTHEW G. GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Part 2! Read Part 1.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.1k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

After Hours - The Velvet Underground

Mr. Loverman - Ricky Montgomery

Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now - The Smiths

“Ramona . . .” you whine.

“I know . . . a mess.”

“I, uh,” you set your phone down, keeping Ramona’s voice on speaker. “I have to get out of this hotel, I have to get home.”

“[y/n], no.”

“No?”

“No.”

You begin changing out of your pajamas, your hands trembling as you slip on a pair of jeans. “Are you telling me I can’t go home right now? Seriously?”

“Seriously. Unless you wanna get swarmed by paparazzi, and risk leaving the hotel at the same time as him, you need to stay put.”

“This . . . this . . . is a mess. This is a huge mess, I — Ramona, I’m leaving.” You ramble, grabbing your things from the bedside dresser.

“[y/n] [y/l/n].” Ramona says, sternly. “You are my boss, but I have direct orders from your publicist to make sure you stay put. So, sit down, chill out, I’ll be there in five. And, honestly . . . you should have some wine.”

“Wha — wine? It’s seven in the morning.”

“Y’know what? You deserve it. Be there soon.”

She was already on the way when she hung up, and when she knocks on the door, you’re sat criss-cross on the bed, sipping a glass of wine. She’s right, you deserve it. You hold the fragile cup in your hand as you open the door, and she waltzes her way in.

“You calm now?” she asks.

“Medicated,” you shrug, holding the glass of wine up in the air.

“Perfect . . . so, were you ever going to tell anyone that you used to date Matthew Gray Gubler?”

You scoff, wander through the hotel room, “I didn’t date Matthew Gubler,” you take a seat on the bed.

“Okay, were you going to mention that you used to fuck Matthew Gray Gubler?” She crosses her arms.

“I . . .” you stutter, go silent in response.

“Oh, God,” she groans.

“It was a long, long time ago! It’s no one’s business, and there’s hardly any proof that it’s anything but a rumor.”

“No proof? —“ She shakes her head, pulling her iPad from her bag. As she clicks a few buttons, she adds, “Did you not see what people were saying? . . . The pictures?”

“Pictures?” You gasp, setting you glass down. “What pictures?”

Ramona sighs, and hands the iPad over to you, avoiding eye contact. You slowly take the device from her hands, and let out a shaky breath.

“The first two were posted a, um, John Hearse on twitter . . .” she explains.

“I mean, if you and Gube just . . . I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

Ramona’s words start to fade, to rescind to dust and ash, as you absorb the image in front of you. It’s old . . . and slightly blurry, but you recognize every face. John, Steve, Matthew . . . and you, sat in his lap, head on his shoulder with a huge, bright smile on your face. Matthew had his hand on your waist, practically gripping your shirt in his hand, keeping you close. The next picture, he was making you laugh, all three of you, as you looked, lovingly, into his eyes.

They were posted in response to a final picture, of you and Matthew reuniting. You looking, literally, like an idiot, in the daze of seeing him and recieving a hug. Some professional photographer had captured the whole thing.

John’s pictures are captioned: Whoaaa glad to see these two back together!

“They used to be, heh,” you chuckle dryly to yourself as you read the tweet outloud. “Inseparable, wow. Remind me to call John up later and yell at him until he cries.”

“Wh — what happened between you two?”

“Me and John? Nothing much, we were good friends,” you shrug.

“No — [y/n], c’mon . . .” Ramona groans.

“It would take,” you sigh. “So much time, and so much energy for me to tell that story right now. I don’t have it in me, Ramona, I just . . . I just want to go home.”

“The place is surrounded by paparazzi, they’re harassing every celebrity that leaves the building, and I’m pretty sure your high on their watchlist right now.”

“Yeah, I’ve mastered the art of ignoring them, I’ll be fine, just call me a ride, please,” you grumble, setting the iPad down and rising to your feet.

She sighs, giving in, giving up, “There’s one waiting for you out front.”

“Thank you,” you nod.

Your belongings are removed from the room first, carried down by an accommodating bellhop. Ramona followed you down to the lobby, trailing you, like she always did. But keeping a closer eye on you than usual. You stopped in front of the revolving door, lips pursed in a look of annoyance as you came face to face with the hoard of paparazzi.

They noticed you through the glass before you had the chance to take a breath, and if you stood still for too long, you feared it would show as weakness, a reason to be suspicious. So, you held your head up tall, took in a deep breath, and stepped into the spotlight.

You’ve mastered the look of constantly-tired-business-woman-chic. Today, you’re running off a cup of coffee, and as always, throw on jeans and a graphic t-shirt. Comfortable shoes, because those heels destroyed your feet last night.

It’s a short walk to the car, but a million and one pictures are taken of you. You smile, respectfully, do a little wave. Don’t want to look too bitter. You drown out the questions, drown out the comments, because you swear if you hear his name, you’ll roll your eyes.

Ramona gets into the car after you, and closes the door. You let out a long sigh, and sulk in your seat. “This sucks,” you mumble, the car staring the ten minute drive to your home.

“Okay, [y/n] Gubler,” she replies.

“Hey!” You sit up. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” she whines. “I knew something was off last night. I could’ve helped you avoid him, I could’ve gotten his car towed, I could’ve sent him the wrong address. You just have to communicate.”

“That is . . . unprofessional, and Matthew Gubler is, apparently, very professional. And he . . .” you trail off.

“He . . ? What?”

“He, donated a very healthy amount of money to the program, which, has nothing to do with me, by the way. None of it has anything to do with me, he’s just . . . professional.” You roll your eyes.

“What the hell happened between you two?” Ramona asks, noticing your shift in tone.

“Ooh, damn!” You ignore her, looking out the window. “We should’ve stopped and grabbed donuts.”

“Fine,” she surrenders.

You were surprised to find no paparazzi surrounding your penthouse building. Ramona had packed away all your belongings, and sent someone inside to place them in your apartment.

“Stay off social media,” she tells you before you leave. “Okay? No posting.”

“Silent stalking, only. Got it.”

You hold your phone in your hand as you walk into the building, ride the elevator up to the fifth floor. It’s quiet, and it’s what you need right now. To be home alone, with your thoughts.

You crash onto the couch, face first, and groan as you roll over. Last night should’ve been joyous, and fun, and it was. But, it was supposed to be the end. It was supposed to bring peace, knowing that everything you worked for, payed off and went out with a bang.

But, because of him, and John, and these stupid pictures, it’s far from the end. A whole new storm has started, and it’s making you nauseous.

Yet, you can’t keep yourself offline. You spend hours scrolling through tweet upon tweet, instagram post after instagram post, and each and every comment is as gut wrenching as the last. The internet’s made up it’s mind, and you and Matthew Gubler are the perfect couple. You fit together, you look right together, you have history together.

A history that was better left buried.

Because, when it comes up, when you think about, and you think about that one decision that could’ve changed everything . . . you crack. You spiral. You can’t shake it for days. Weeks. You think about him, and what you could’ve been.

It’s a hurricane, and it sweeps you up everytime, even when you know it’s coming.

There’s a knock at the door, and your heart drops. It’s naive, and childish to think that maybe, just maybe, it’s him. Coming to apologize for being a dick. But the idea of it has you racing to the door, and flinging it open before you can think about it.

“Hey, Aunt [y/n]!”

“Hey,” Claire smiles. “We brought donuts.”

This is better.

The seven year old held onto your hand as you guided her and her mother in your apartment. “Oh, my goodness,” you beamed to Dorthy, earning a bright smile from her. “Is Roni with you?” You turned to ask Claire.

“She had to help her mother with something today, but I told her that I had to help you through a serious crisis.”

“Ah,” you nod. “You’ve been online, huh?”

You take a seat with Dorothea on the couch, turn on the TV. “Wanna pick something to watch?” You smile, and she nods happily, taking the remote from you.

You join Claire in the kitchen, and she hands you a cookies and cream donut. You hum happily as you take it from her, take a seat on the counter, “God, thank you.”

She nods, “Yes, I’ve been online. I’ve been tracking everything about you and your big, big night,” she chuckles. “So I was ready to run over here when I saw those pictures going around.”

“You saw them?” You gasp, horrified, with the donut hanging from your mouth.

“Oh, yeah, I don’t remember when they were taken, though?”

“Vegas, 2001,” you tell her. “You didn’t — you didn’t come with us.”

She sighs, tilts her head at you, “[y/n] . . .”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you nod, reassuringly. “I’m not going down a Matthew rabbit hole. Not right now. Y’know why? Because he is an ass, he’s rude, and disrespectful, and stirs shit up for no reason, and —“

“Whoa!” Claire exclaims. “Did I enter a time portal to 1999 or something?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you roll your eyes.

“[y/n], you knew seeing Matthew was a possibility last night, and that it would bring back all these emotions, and you swore you could handle it —“

“I did handle it! I handled it very, very well. He’s the one who lost his cool. You should’ve heard him, Claire,” you ramble. “Nothing I did tonight has anything to do with you? I’m a professional? I didn’t do it to cushion your feelings? He’s a dick! He — he threw everything in my face the minute he could, and now my name is connected to his, our history is out there for everyone to see, and . . . he probably fucking hates me,” you laugh.

You laugh.

It’s a dry laugh, a sad laugh.

Claire frowns, and steps over to you, putting her arm around your shoulders.

“He hates me,” you say. “And he probably has every reason to. But I can handle it. I can handle the emotions, I’ve handled them for a long time,” you look at her. “And it’s not my fault if he can’t do the same, right?”

Claire sighs, pushes your hair back, “No.” She shakes her head. “No, you’ve moved on. You should want him to do the same thing, and not cause anymore hurt. You deserve that.”

“Mom! Aunt [y/n]!” Dorthy calls from the couch. Her head pops up, and she grins at you two. “Best and Ballet is on!”

“Ooh, what show is that?” You chuckle, hopping down from the counter. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Hey,” Claire calls, grabbing onto your arm before you can walk into the living room. “It’s like everything else in show business, right? People will talk for a few days, maybe a week, right? And then it’ll fade. It’ll pass.”

You give her a nod, let her know that you hear her, and that you’re going to push through this. Because you have no choice. Because above being a celebrity, a figurehead, a boss, a producer . . . you’re a teacher. A damn good one, and the last person who’s going to change that is Matthew Gubler.

You pack him away. The idea of him. Tie him off with a neat, little bow.

Because the show must go on.

“Rolling!”

You walk across the studio, behind the cameras, watching your students on screen. “Can you get a wide shot? You’re not getting the best lighting, nor every student in one shot.” You say to the cinematographer.

“[y/n],” the director calls. “We film from this angle every episode. Why change it?”

“Because every episode, some of my best dancers are cut from the shot beside of sloppy angles and the light from the windows blinds the mirrors the cameras?”

“Those are things out of our control.”

“Oh, yeah?” you turn to him. “You wanna tell that to someone who didn’t go to film school? . . . Twice?”

He gulps, motions to the cinematographer, “Change the shot.”

You grin, order the camera woman to make the correct adjustments, “See?” You beam. “No glare.”

You walk off, Ramona trailing behind you, giving the director a pitiful smile. Once you’re away from the cameras, and the studio, you grumble, “Remind me to never be talked into hiring a male director again.

“You’re turning into Medusa.”

“What?” You look at her, furrowing your eyebrows.

“What? You’ve never seen Grey’s Anatomy? Medusa? Turns people into stone? A . . . bitch?”

“Actual Medusa was not a bitch, she was cursed by a man.”

“Okay, fair, you were cursed by a man —“

“Dooooon’t!” You roll your eyes. “I’m not Medusa, I’m very nice.”

“You’re nice to me, and to your students, and the nice ladies that do your hair and makeup. Everyone else, stone.”

“Stop.”

“I wish you would tell me what happened,” she groans. “It’s not like I’m gonna tell anyone! I’m just, worried about you, and a little nosey.”

“Ramona . . . it’s been how long since that weekend?”

“Well, well,” she stutters. “Only a week.”

“A week is a long time, I’ve moved on. I’ve avoided any and all questions on the subject, from everyone. I’ve been actively dodging it on social media. I’m doing well.”

She nods.

“Now,” you continue to walk down the hall. “I have a talk show interview tonight? What time do I have to be there?”

You stop when you realize Ramona isn’t following you. You turn around, and she stuck in her spot.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Can’t move. Been turned to stone.”

You hated the Medusa comparison wholeheartedly. But, right now, you just want to yell at whoever booked you for a late night talk show. You’re tired after a long day of work, and you’re cranky, and crabby, and maybe, just maybe . . . the comparison isn’t too far off right now.

You’re charming, sure. Let’s go with that. But now, it’s all starting to dawn on you. Here, in this dressing room that’s lit up like a christmas tree. Revealing every ounce of exhaustion in your face, in your eyes. It’s nearly ten o’clock at night, and you’re placed in an elegant, black dress that stops just above your knees. Black heels cover your feet, and your hair and makeup were done half an hour ago.

You have to figure it out. You test different ones out in the mirror. Different smiles. You have to nail the I-have-to-talk-about-myself-for-an-hour-and-laugh smile. The happy, glowing, kind smile. You think you have it when there’s a knock on the door.

You keep the smile on, don’t want to lose it. You call Ramona in, and she looks at you, curiously. “You okay?”

“Yep,” you nod, brightening your smile. “Show time?”

“Are — are you having a stroke?”

“Okay, I’m trying to put on my interview face here, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry, you look great!” You smiles.

“Ramona,” you whisper, stepping close to her. “There’s a good chance they’re gonna ask me about him, right?”

She takes a breath in, prepared to answer, but no words come out. Your eyes are wide, innocent, hopeful. And she hates to lie to you.

“Yes . . .” is all she can say. “There is a, very, very good chance they will ask you about him.”

You sigh, duck your head. And when you pick it back up, your smile is on. “Okay, let’s go.” You step out into the hallway, Ramona closing the door behind you.

It was a time portal. The door. The hallway.

Matthew’s eyes land on you at the same time you see him, and you both freeze. Ramona bites at her nails, anxiously eyeing the two of you.

You feel your body, your soul, revert. Regress in every way to embody the spirit of you, at age 18, about 18 years ago.

You scoff, meaning your next words with every fiber of your being, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

TAGLIST:

@muffin-cup

@pinkdiamond1016

@ncsls0515

@spencersbed

@safertokiss

@calm-and-doctor

@spencerreid-mgg

@reidsconverse

@sizzlingclamturtlesludge

#mine #tg #mgg #mgg fic #matthew gray gubler #esny

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fragmentedink-archived · 3 years ago

Text

Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-Six

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX, LI, LII, LIII, LIV, LV

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

Biela was in one of the cities of Assyra, helping provide some form of comfort and support to the many grieving families left without their young. The cities of her kingdom were slowly building their way back to their former glory thanks to the war ending, but there was still much, much work to be done.

And she would not rest until it was.

She was still half tempted to take her frustrations out on that angel and his foolish cousin who decided to defy nature in her lands, leaving her people to pay the consequences. But she held back, if only so they could live with what they had done.

Dacia and Caius both were with her to provide as much light and warmth in this time, something she had always lacked the ability to provide. Dacia stood by her side while combing the streets for a period of respite.

“I do hope this haunts them,” Biela said, darkly, letting Dacia link their arms together.

“I am sure it will,” Dacia replied. “Levant and Amara both.”

“Hmph.”

They let silence fall for a bit longer when she felt a tugging at her skirt. She nearly thought it was some mangy animal, but stopped moving when she realized it was a child that was clinging to her skirts, clearly trying to keep herself from tumbling to the ground.

“Who’s child is this?” Biela demanded, looking around.

Dacia was already moving to scooping her up when Biela locked eyes on a violet eyed child that had a hand half reaching for the toddler in Dacia’s arms. She nearly went after them had it not been for their bolting like a rabbit, likely to get as far away from Biela as physically possible.

Of course it ran. Biela never had much luck with children capable of forming their own opinions. They more often than not were best left silent. But for some reason, this particular toddler decided to demand her attention.

Dacia seemed to be looking the child over, checking for cuts or bruises, though she couldn’t find any. She gave Biela a look that had Biela frowning at her. “What.”

“Well, clearly she had a home.”

“Oh really?” Biela asked. “From the looks of it I’d say she was missing a few requirements for that, considering her very dirty skin on top of her very dirty clothes.”

“Well all the more reason to take her with us,” Dacia replied. “Children are dying. We cannot let another fall through the cracks.”

“I suppose,” Biela said, eyeing the child staring right back at her. She squinted.

When the child removed her hand from her mouth, as soaked with slobber as it was, she still reached out for Biela. Biela frowned in distaste. She had been soaked in blood once, but she still was not a fan of fluids from infants. “I will not take you,” Biela retorted to the baby. “But fine, we will bring her with us.”

Biela thought back to the last thing Raziel had said to her the day before. That ‘Congratulations’ stuck out in Biela’s mind and she had half a thought to go wring that old bird’s neck.

She hated seers.

---

Lev was closing the door to Eden's nursery oh so carefully when Ash found him. And by found him, Lev meant Ash smacked the side of his leg with his cane. Lev stifled a yelp, so he didn’t wake Eden, and glared at Ash. It was safe to do so because Ash couldn’t see him.

“Ow,” Lev mumbled, sidestepping another sweep of the cane. “I- can I help you?” He paused, and quickly corrected himself. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm. Pick a new tone,” Ash said, flippantly. “I want you to make yourself useful and take me to Cameron’s library.”

Lev sighed softly, and started walking. “It’s this way,” he said, just to get Ash started. “Though I don’t think he’s got any books in braille.”

“Well lucky for me I’m not going to be the one doing the reading,” Ash replied, following after him.

“Am I-” Lev bit off his questions, and instead said, “It’s up these stairs, and then we’re gonna take a left.”

Ash slowly followed after him, taking one step at a time, clearly not quite used to climbing the stairs without the morsels of eyesight he once had.

Lev quietly narrated the path he took to one of the tables he liked to frequent during the few times he’d had the time to sequester himself away in the library. It was near the very meager collection of fiction Cameron had; most everything else in here seemed to be non-fiction of all sorts.

“I’m sure there’s a system,” Ash said, side stepping the things in his way. “Knowing Cameron it’s bound to be just as elaborate as his many personalities.” At Lev’s confusion Ash sighed. “A catalogue. Something to classify the books to keep them separate by title or genre or subject or something.”

“Oh. Oh. Yeah. There is. Do- do you need me to find you a book?”

“I want you to find every book in Cameron’s library about the gods,” Ash said, leaning against one of the shelves. “You’re going to actually learn something about well, something aside from whatever romance novel you are currently gurgitating.”

“Gurgitating,” Lev mumbled to himself, trying not to sound annoyed. He puffed out a breath, and then, “I’ll see if I can find a few. There’s a table next to you if you want to sit.” Though Ash might prefer to stand, so he could complain about that too.

He could feel Ash’s glare against his back. “I’m coming with you, genius,” Ash said. “How about you knock the attitude off. I can feel your passive aggressive puffiness from here.”

Lev considered that, and then decided honesty was the best policy. “I’m just a little cranky,” he said, and then added, “And so are you. I’m sorry if I’ve been snapping at you, though. Shouldn’t take crankiness out on someone else. Not their fault.”

“Duly noted,” Ash said. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to someone who cares. Now take me to the books.”

Lev led the way, gathering every book Ash told him to, up until his arms started to get tired, and then he very firmly insisted they go back to the table. “I can’t carry any more,” he said, “And I certainly can’t read all of these in one sitting. The rest aren’t going anywhere.”

“That’s fine,” Ash said, taking a few books from him to tuck under his arm. “You won’t be able to retain all of what you need to know if you do that.”

Lev sighed, loud enough for Ash to definitely hear this time, but just settled down at his table, spreading the books out. Ash took the chair across from Lev and had him pull out the first book.

“Do you want me to read out loud?” Lev asked after a moment of staring at the introduction.

“Tell me what you know about the gods,” Ash said. “The angels should have given you a rudimentary understanding of each god in school, but angelic teachings tend… to embellish a little and make Asmi seem more important than the others. Which is not to say they’re not important,” Ash added, hastily. “As they are the god to the angels, but each is important and I want to figure out how much work you’re going to need to understand.”

Lev paused, trying to dig up memories well over a century old. “I knew of Asmi,” Lev confirmed. “And they said that demons split their worship between... Five? Five gods? I think? I know demonic magic is tied to specific gods. I think. Or- there’s a choosing?”

“There is Kaveh, the oldest- twin to Asmi, who is the one who created both the other gods and the demons. Demons were pulled from the earth as angels were the stars. Kaveh’s magic is one of the most powerful, bestowed as they are the oldest god in the pantheon,” Ash said. “They rule magic such as telepathy and forms of telekinesis and other mental based magics.”

Ash took a breath. “Asmi, as Kaveh’s twin, was born at the same time. It was just them alone in the universe, right? Asmi created the angels so of course they would become the patron to all angels. As they are tied to the natural balance, all our abilities come from nature.”

“Third,” Ash said, “Is Mizra. Mizra is the seer. Knows all that is, was and all that could be. They’re known for being relatively… prickly, I guess. Just like Kaveh, but a different flavor. Next is Ruya. Ruya is the god of echos and reigns over the illusion workers. And lastly is Basim who rules over empathy based magics. Anything having to do with the emotional spectrum. Each god has access to the rawest magic, but only demons can access the designated power that each god rules over.” He paused, took another breath and leaned back. “Does any of that make sense?”

Lev blinked several times. “I...” he trailed off. “That was a lot. But.. I think so?” Even though Ash couldn’t see, Lev ticked them off on his fingers, “Kaveh is the oldest, and rules mental magics. Asmi is balance, Mizra is the Sight, Ruya is echoes and illusions. And- Um. Bas- Basim is empaths?”

“Yes,” Ash said, satisfied. “They’re each patron to a particular person they find interesting, so a person can have two gods bugging them, but only hold power for one, if that makes sense? They might just… be a little more enhanced. Kaveh: the cunning and resourceful; Asmi: the natural order and witches; Mizra: survivors; Ruya: the wild and unchained, and Basim: patron to the merciful.”

“I... I think so?” Lev said hesitantly. “Does everyone have a god who is their patron? Or only specific people?”

Ash rose a shoulder. “I think it’s just certain people that the gods have taken a liking to. I haven’t read anything about every single demon having a patron on top of their god.”

Lev nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said out loud after a moment. “I think that makes sense.” He tapped his thumb on the book, and then asked thoughtfully, “Do gods favor bloodlines? I never really paid much attention to if demons’ magic was genetic or not...”

“I do think sometimes it’s through bloodlines, unless a god has deliberately chosen the child. Their magic usually comes in around five to seven years old; just like an angel’s,” Ash said. “The gods wait to see what the child will grow into and go from there.”

“That makes sense,” Lev mumbled, more to himself than anything, and then said, “So there’s no real way to know what kind of magic Eden will have, then?”

“Not until she’s close to five, no.”

Lev gave a small hum. “Does Asmi ever choose demons?” He asked, just out of sheer curiosity.

“If they find a liking to a person, sure,” Ash said. “They’ll most likely bless that bloodline. Isn’t Sorin a demon with fire magic anyways? Also, Asmi likely is responsible for the few powerful bloodlines of demonic healers. They’re very rare, just like elemental demonic users.”

Lev gave a few blinks. “I didn’t-” He thought again. “Right. Fax’s cousin.” After another awkward pause, he added, “I forgot. Fax had fire magic too. He just so rarely used it. Mostly to light his cigarettes or the fireplace.”

Ash looked vaguely disapproving with the mention of cigarettes, but said nothing about it. “Sazra’s bloodline is most likely one blessed by Asmi. She’s one of the very few demonic healers I have met. And she’s a very strong one at that. Probably why she was in this house for so long. Demons were never very kind to their healers- always enslaved them.”

Oh. Lev looked down. “I’m guessing she wouldn’t want my pity,” he said slowly.

“Probably not,” Ash said. “But back to what I was saying. Power and magic are tied to the gods and the gods are tied to us. Sometimes even the gods walk among the people, though Asmi is somewhat trapped in their realm whereas the other gods are not.” Ash grimaced. “Instead they get to use me as their mouthpiece.”

“They’re trapped?” Lev asked, his concern getting dragged away from Sazra. “That sounds awful.”

“Less trapped and more they don’t have a physical form,” Ash admitted. “If they want company from us mere mortals they are very capable of yanking us to them.”

“Oh,” Lev said, considering that. “Do they do that often?”

“I’m not sure with other people besides me,” Ash said, “but they sure do like my company. Maybe a little too much.”

“I’m sorry,” Lev said honestly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It’s fine,” Ash said. “I’ll manage.”

Lev frowned, but Ash couldn’t see. He tapped the book with his thumb. “Do the gods talk directly to their followers often? Like when... when Asmi spoke to me, before I came back? Or did they only do so because I was... partly dead.”

“I think… they were curious and infuriated. Not many people show up on the gods' radar. When they do, they take notice.”

Lev nodded. “So they don’t visit people often. And that’s true for all the gods?”

Ash lifted a shoulder. “From what I’ve seen, yeah. Maybe us mere mortals aren’t all that interesting in the grand scheme of things, though I’m sure they do find our little lives absolutely hilarious sometimes.”

“Ah,” Lev said, rubbing his face. “I suppose bastardizing nature would put me on their radar,” he sighed.

“And now we don’t have magic,” Ash said, sardonically. “I’m sure we’ll be hearing from Asmi soon.”

---

Cameron was seated in the chair while Darius napped. He had been working on the backed up paperwork from the last several days. He had a solid chunk of paperwork from both the club and further Obsidian Court workings when there was a feather light knock on the door.

He bit back his irritable sigh and looked up to see one of the sentries standing stiffly in the doorway. Cameron flicked Darius a look, to make sure he was still sleeping before fixing his attention on the sentry. “What do you want?”

“There’s an angel here,” they said.

“I am aware there are several angels here,” Cameron said, crossly. “Be more specific.”

“Raziel,” he rushed out. “Um, she said her name was Raziel.”

Oh brilliant. “And what does that overcooked chicken want?” Cameron said, flatly. “Lev is unable to speak with his family for the next several decades.”

“She’s here for you, sir.”

“You can tell Raziel to fly her carcass back to her roost,” Cameron said, turning his focus back to his work, dismissing the sentry to do his bidding.

Cameron had but a few moments of peace before the sentry returned, looking rather ashened. “I’m afraid she was rather insistent, sir.”

Cameron sighed sharply out of his nose and got to his feet. The sentry stiffened slightly as Cameron walked past him, ordering him to not take his eyes off Darius while Cameron dealt with the ancient angel.

“And to what do I owe this displeasure,” Cameron said, eyeing Raziel, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Mizra sent me,” Raziel said, irritatingly calm as always. “So unfortunately, I am not able to leave until I’ve passed their message along.”

Cameron’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I haven’t been to a temple in well over five hundred years.” In fact, he had never stepped foot inside one to begin with. “Why would they bother themselves with my presence now?”

“Both kingdoms are healing,” Raziel said. “And they’re tired of waiting for you to come to them. I’m sure if I hadn’t reached out to them for my own reasons they would have found another way to reach out to you and demand you listen.”

Cameron fixed his jaw. “We’ll speak in my office,” he said, walking past her.

Raziel followed him, staying a good three paces behind him until they reached the office. She even settled in the chair without prompting, hooking one knee over the other.

Cameron took his place behind his desk and leaned back. He eyed her for a few seconds, trying to figure the best approach to handle both Mizra and Raziel. “I have not participated in the Rite,” Cameron said, evenly. “I am not able to, so I do not have any connections with Mizra.”

Every demon born had their god and had their own coming of age where they cemented their connection to their god. Every demon, legitimate or not, was supposed to form the connections with their god in order to fully claim their abilities. Cameron never had, his mother had forbade it, so his magic was barely a whisper of anything- calling it a magic felt like too grand of a word. He had never spoken to a priestess, of any god. Cameron had no Rite to claim.

Raziel didn’t even blink. “Then complete it. Before Mizra starts meddling more personally.”

“I do not have the time,” Cameron said. “And I am now much too old. Have been for well over five hundred years.”

“Make time. Your god demands it.” She flicked her fingers at him. “Your household doesn’t need a second god looking at it with ire. Nothing I remember of the Rite says you can’t complete it later in life.” Her silver eyes tracked his every minute move. “I’m sure you’re not the only one with subpar parents.”

“I suggest you do not speak ill of my parents,” Cameron said, flippantly. “They’re my problem and they’re also dead. No need for you to make judgements that do not pertain to you. Besides, the Rite is a demonic passage. Perhaps you should keep to your own lane in that matter. I will make time, but it will have to wait.” Cameron rubbed his temples, alleviating the growing pressure. “As I said, I am busy.”

“I did not mean offense,” Raziel said mildly. “I spoke only of what Mizra told me. And on top of what they’ve said of your parents, ill or otherwise, they have insisted you speak to them.”

“What part of ‘I am busy’ seems to get lost in your decrepit mind?” Cameron snapped.

It was then that Cameron felt himself be… pulled somewhere; he and Raziel both. Cameron went very still when a very pale… being was standing in front of him. Mizra, he presumed, with their pale skin and white hair, almost a similar likeness to himself. They looked less than pleased to drag him here into their realm. “When I request you,” they said, coolly. “I do not mean to be put off for something you consider more important. There is nothing more important than I, do you understand me?”

“My apologies,” Cameron said. “I did not mean any disrespect.”

Mizra’s eyes narrowed. “There is not an ounce of respect in your frail little body, Cameron Luain.”

“Mizra,” Raziel said. “It would make pulling us here rather pointless if you lose your temper now.” And then she smiled at the god.

Mizra fixed their mouth into a thin line. “Your mother,” they said, turning back to face Cameron, “defied my wishes when she decided to keep you from me in attempt to keep you powerless.” Cold washed down Cameron’s skin. “She is now rotting in the ground and no longer an obstacle, therefore, I am very kindly requesting you have the Rite performed.”

Cameron flicked Raziel a glance before tightly folding his arms over his chest. “I suppose I will make the time,” he bit out, bowing his head slightly.

He could feel their very smug faint smile directed his way. “Very good,” they said. “It seems when I told Raziel to fix you, I had not accounted for how foolishly bullheaded you male creatures are.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Raziel interjected. “I apologize I was not able to successfully pass along your message on my own.”

Mizra frowned at her. “Yes, I do suppose you did fail in your one task, Raziel. I had expected far better from someone I had blessed.”

“I suppose I’m out of practice,” Raziel replied. “I’ll do better next time.” If Cameron didn’t know better he’d say Raziel’s silver eyes, so eerily similar to Mizra’s, crinkled with affection at the god.

“As you should,” Mizra said, primly. “Failure is unacceptable and I would so hate to find someone else to keep me company. Most of you mortals are rather boring.”

Cameron was rapidly growing all the more irritable with these too ancient beings and found the phantom pain in his head to be growing steadily behind his eye.

Mizra cut their focus to Cameron. “And while I have you here,” they said, “I expect you to start eating something. You’re too thin and disgusting. You need to eat more.”

Cameron stared blankly at the god. “You want me to eat more?” he echoed.

Why would a god care about his eating habits?

“Oh please,” Mizra huffed, “I do detest repeating myself.”

“I could always check in on him,” Raziel offered.

Cameron cut her a withering glare. The last thing he needed was Raziel to babysit him. “Last I checked,” Cameron said, “you were barred from Lev’s presence.”

Mizra waved a dismissive hand. “You make it sound like I care what your little king wants,” Mizra said. “Raziel will do my bidding and hold your hand if need be.”

Cameron felt rage boil under his skin, but promptly kept his mouth shut.

“I highly doubt I’ll need to go that far,” Raziel said, amused.

“Was there anything else you required of me,” Cameron bit out.

“Oh very well, very well,” Mizra said, “If you’re going to act like a child I will send you back. Raziel, I will speak to you soon.”

With that, Cameron felt himself be dropped into his body.

Raziel looked annoyingly unruffled. “So I’ll see you next week?” She said lightly.

Cameron got to his feet and leaned over his desk. “Get the hell out of my house right now,” he snapped. “If you are not off of my property in the next five minutes I will not be so pleasant. Get out now.”

Raziel lifted a single brow, but stood gracefully. “I’ll let you know before I come over next time,” she said on her way out. “Do not make Mizra wait much longer. They have much less patience than I.”

Cameron let the door shut behind her before he nearly collapsed in his chair. He grabbed his head, tight, hoping to alleviate the pressure building, but it did very little.

---

Nik woke from his nap, still angry and irritable. The last twenty-four hours had not done much for his temper so he had taken a nap. And that did not help either. He wandered the house and found a rather beautiful man in the bedroom, sitting up in the bed. “Well you must be Darius,” Nik said, crossly.

The man gave him a rather mild smile and nodded.

Nik’s eyes narrowed. “So are you crippled and can’t talk or are you being annoying on purpose.” When Darius didn’t say anything, because of course he didn’t, Nik said, “Right, whatever. So I guess you’re Cameron’s boyfriend or something? And you were dead, so why didn’t you stay dead? Nevermind, that’s stupid. I guess if you were going to defy nature, you might as well do it for Cameron.”

Darius cocked his head and reached for a pad of paper only to scribble a ‘It’s nice to meet you, Nik.’

“Oh please,” Nik said, “I’m being a dickhead to you. You don’t need to lie to me.”

‘I’m not lying,’ Darius wrote. ��I’m rather used to crass language when people are upset.”

“I’m being crass?” Nik demanded. “I think you being alive is rather inconvenient for me since everyone in this damned house knows who the hell you are besides me.”

‘I apologize for Cameron not telling you,’ Darius said. ‘It was all rather sudden. I do hope we can be friends, Nik.’

Nik rolled his eyes. “Do I look like someone who has friends?”

‘Ash and Amara seem rather fond of you,’ Darius observed.

Nik rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, Ash and Amara make bad choices daily, so I wouldn’t hold either of them to a high standard. Case in point: bringing people back from the dead and killing a million kids, but hey, what do I know?”

And now he’s in the line of fire.

Sympathy shone in Darius’ eyes and it took tremendous effort to not wipe that infuriating look off his face. “Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped. “I’m not Cameron and I’m sure as hell not Lev. Puppy eyes don’t work on me.”

‘Well, I’m actually a cat.’

“Oh great,” Nik said. “You’re a cat.”

Darius gave him a dry, feline smile. ‘Not a fan of cats?’

“Not this particular one.”

‘If it helps,’ Darius wrote. ‘Cameron loathes cats as well.”

“Well he clearly likes you,” Nik said, frowning. “If you claw up my clothes, I’ll cut your hair off.”

‘Well, I will make a note to leave your clothes alone,’ Darius replied.

“I think you enjoy mocking me,” Nik said. “You get to waltz in and drop into my relationship because Cameron killed you or something. I’m sure the whole thing was very traumatic.”

That was the moment Lev chose to poke his head in. His brows furrowed in his usual expression of worry, and he was quick to cross the room. Nik folded his arms as he watched Lev kiss Darius on the cheek.

Traitor.

Lev was just as quick to tuck himself into Nik’s side, however, insistently tugging at Nik’s arms until he could pull it around his shoulders. Against his will, Nik felt himself loosening as Lev scented him, a low soothing purr coming from Lev as he did.

“Is everything okay?” Lev asked.

“I mean I guess,” Nik said, crossly. “I wake up to him in my bed that I can’t even sleep in because I guess it was his bed first, or something.”

Lev nosed at Nik’s jaw lightly. “It was,” Lev said unhelpfully, and then, with irritating optimism, Lev added, “We can pick another room. Any room. I doubt Cameron will make you stay in the rooms he’s moved us to right now. And I also doubt he’d say no about much of anything when it comes to decorating your new room. Not right now, anyway. The opportunities are almost endless.”

“Whatever,” Nik said. “I have to move around my life because Cameron felt bad for killing the guy.” He glared at Darius frowning at him. “You’re not special,” he said. “Just because you’re some pretty face doesn’t mean shit. We’re all pretty faces. Don’t expect me to get in line to kiss your ass like everyone else.”

Darius blinked at him, seemingly bewildered, but he just nodded at him.

“Nikolas,” Lev chastised, but even his scolding was tempered by worry. “Darius hasn’t done anything. And I was the one that asked for him; I’m the one that told Cameron he was still there.” Lev hesitated, and then added gently, “Darius helped me while I was dead. He kept me steady, kept me sane. He deserves another chance as much as I do. More. He’s a kind person, Nik. That’s all.”

Nik sighed through his nose. “Fine,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Is Cameron home or is he going to resurrect some other not-boyfriend?”

Lev shrugged. “Last I saw he was in here with Darius, so I don’t know.”

‘I think he’s in his office,’ Darius offered.

“I’m hungry,” Nik mumbled, pathetically.

“I can go get Cameron,” Lev offered, oh-so-helpfully. “With everything going on I don't think it’s a good idea for us to touch anything in his kitchen. Besides, Eden should wake up from her nap soon, and she’ll need a snack too.”

“Okay.”

---

Lev knocked on Cameron’s office door lightly, but didn’t wait to open it. The room was dark, and Lev almost assumed it was empty, but he heard a quiet, “Shut the door,” from the direction of Cameron’s desk, so he slipped inside, closing it obediently.

After letting his eyes adjust, Lev realized Cameron was bent over the desk, head in his arms. Lev chose to approach slowly, hovering his hand over Cameron’s shoulder before ultimately letting it drop back to his side instead. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I’m fine,” Cameron said, stiffly. “Just a headache.”

Right. Lev worried his lip between his teeth. “Nik’s hungry,” he finally said. “I can make him something, if you’d like.”

“Fine,” Cameron said, dismissively. “Just clean up after yourself.”

Lev nodded, but didn’t move. “I had something else to ask,” he finally said. “If that’s okay?”

“Alright.”

“I should probably get back to training, if I can get Ash to sign off on it? Or Sazra?” Lev fiddled with the bottom of his shirt, and then grimaced. “Or- can I? I don't- it doesn’t have to be you, but- I had planned- without my magic- well, without my magic, I really am useless, aren’t I? And I don’t like feeling like I’m a vulnerability for Nik, especially when he’s pregnant.” He took a deep breath, hardened his tone. “I won’t let anything happen to my mate.”

“Probably,” Cameron agreed. “Get it okayed by Ash and Sazra and I will put it into my schedule. I’ll fit you in.”

“I- oh. Okay,” Lev said, trying not to be too enthusiastic. He put his hand on Cameron’s shoulder as he started to say, “Thank you,” but his voice died a little as he realized just how thin Cameron’s shoulder was.

Cameron carefully removed Lev’s hand from his shoulder. Even in the dark Lev could see Cameron giving him a slow once over, noting how clothes that had fit perfectly a month ago were just a little loose now. Lev hadn’t paid attention before, but Cameron’s shrewd gaze made him hyper aware.

“Make sure you eat too,” was all Cameron said in the end. “And close the door behind you when you leave.”

Lev swallowed. He ran his fingers through Cameron’s hair once, just to reassure himself that he could, that they were both still there and then backed for the door. “I’ll bring you something later,” he promised. “And some painkillers.”

He made sure that the door clicked shut as quietly as he could.

---

While Cyrus flipped through one of the several books he’d lain on the bed, Sorin napped sprawled on his lap. Sorin’s surprisingly strong tail wrapped around his wrist insistently, the prehensile appendage tugging every once and a while as the demon dreamed.

Cyrus had spent the last few hours reading up on the gods. While he was certainly more educated, he felt like it was only a surface level understanding of them. Which- understandable. There was a lot, and these were gods.

Rather than continue to stare blankly at the pages, Cyrus settled more deeply into the pillows he was propped up against. Sorin huffed at him, his tail tightening briefly, but when Cyrus made no move to get up, the demon fell asleep again pretty quickly.

Once the house was quiet, Cyrus closed his eyes and tried to remember how Darius had shown him how to reach out for Asmi. It’d certainly been more ritualistic than Cyrus was able to do right now, but even attempting without the words and candles and pomp and ceremony, when Cyrus opened his eyes, he was back in the warm room, Asmi seated before him.

“Asmi,” Cyrus said, dipping into a small bow. He looked up, offering a small smile. “Will it always be that easy to reach you?”

Asmi lifted a brow. “If you were aware of your studies, you would know,” they said, amused.

Cyrus gave a shrug in acquiescence. “True,” he said, “But who better to ask my questions than you? I’ve been reading, while my mate keeps me on bedrest. Trying to understand all of it. The sheer amount of literature to wade through is... overwhelming.”

Asmi brought their tea to their lips. “I imagine getting caught up on nearly forty years of spellwork will take you some time. I’m sure you will now have plenty of time to do so without your magic distracting you.”

“Was taking my magic an opportunity to learn or a punishment?” Cyrus asked, out of sheer curiosity.

Asmi merely gave Cyrus a slight smile.

Cyrus settled in the closest chair with a bit more weight than he usually would. It seemed even in this dimension he was weaker than usual. “Some things have to remain a secret, then?” He asked, mulling it over.

“I told you there will be a price to pay,” they said. “You will pay it tenfold. I do not like to be made weakened by anyone, and this time, my point will be made.”

“I understand,” Cyrus said quietly. “I don’t take this lightly, and I will work hard to learn what I can while without magic.”

“Excellent,” Asmi said, setting their mug of tea down. “You will not regain your magic until I am satisfied.” Asmi flicked a hand, and with a ripple of magic Ash, Lev and Darius appeared in the room with them.

Ash was quick to bow deeply before standing upright wearily. “You summoned me?”

Cyrus flicked a glance at the other two; Lev was quite bewildered, though he gave an echo of Ash’s movements after a beat. Darius gave his own slow bow before quietly buckling into the chair behind him.

Cyrus thought about moving to check on him, but Lev beat him to it, fussing quietly while keeping an eye on Asmi warily. As much as he hated to admit it, he was relieved. It would have taken a lot of energy to stand. Instead he fixed Asmi with another curious stare. “I assume you have a message for all four of us?”

“You should watch your assumptions,” Asmi said. “But yes, I do and I did not feel the need to repeat myself four different times.”

“Apologies,” Cyrus murmured, before falling silent expectantly.

“Apologies noted,” Asmi said, crossing their legs. “I have spoken to Levant already, about carrying a piece of the burden should you defy the natural balance once more. You have all felt its effects. There is and will be a void where your magic was and would be, and that void shall remain until you earn the right to your magic. I demand respect from the lot of you and for you to learn a lesson.”

Ash looked a mix of rage and submission but ultimately hung his head without a word.

“How do we earn it?” Lev asked, and then immediately looked like he wished the ground would swallow him up. Cyrus grimaced in sympathy, but he’d been wondering the same thing, and so he simply looked to Asmi again. Earning it could mean a thousand things, and they were all from different places and backgrounds in life.

A serpentine smile curled on Asmi’s lips. “I am glad you ask. You will all learn everything about the gods, you will worship and devote yourselves accordingly. You will become nearly as knowledgeable and devoted as a priestess and you will not have your magic returned to you until all of you satisfy me. Not one, not three. All four of you will satisfy me or none of you will satisfy me.”

“Understood,” Cyrus said. He’d honestly expected something worse, and judging by the surprise on Lev’s face, so had the angel. Ash and Darius were harder to read, but that was just fine.

Asmi’s eyes narrowed, seemingly reading his mind. “Be glad it is not Kaveh. Would you wish to want harsher punishments, I am sure they will be more than willing to provide.”

“Of course,” Cyrus murmured. Where faint enthusiasm had grown in Lev's expression, it’d quickly become ashen, and he’d reached for Darius’ hand silently.

Darius quietly squeezed Lev's hand. “Your mercy is much appreciated,” Darius murmured, hoarsely. “We will do all that you ask.”

Lev nodded vigorously, again simply echoing the sentiment.

“I will make sure to help in any way,” Ash said. “I already have Lev reading the old books on the various gods from Cameron’s library.”

Cyrus nodded slowly. “I might reach out to you,” he said to Ash, before adding, “And Sorin can find resources for me in places I cannot go. Though it might be a few days; we’re going to be moving soon, before Biela’s mercy wanes. I won’t be welcome in demonic territory at all for the foreseeable future, if ever.”

“I can’t leave Cameron’s house,” Lev piped up nervously. “And Darius shouldn’t be moving around much yet either.”

“Well it’s not like your magic is going anywhere,” Asmi replied. “I’m sure you will figure out how to get to a temple. The lot of you are irritatingly creative.”

“Best see if Biela has any mercy left to spare,” Cyrus advised, even as he thought internally that they might not get their magic back in the next half century just from this.

“Better chance of draining the ocean with a straw,” Ash muttered.

Lev sighed softly, and looked down at Darius. “I can talk to Cameron,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

When Darius nodded tiredly, Asmi said, “If you all have nothing else interesting to say I am sending you back.” They didn’t give much room for Lev, Darius, or Ash to speak before they disappeared.

Cyrus blinked at where they had been. “Thank you,” he said, and then clarified, “For taking the time to explain. You could have left us to flounder.”

“I see no point wasting my time,” they said, dismissively. “You will likely have the most to learn, as you think you are above myself and had performed that heinous magic twice. You will find my mercy and my forgiveness is not easily won.”

Asmi waved a hand and sent Cyrus back to his body. Judging from how Sorin’s face was so close to his he could feel the demon’s whiskers tickling his face, it’d been obvious that Cyrus hadn’t been in bed with him in any way beyond physical. Sorin pressed a paw to Cyrus’ chest slowly, spreading his toes and digging his claws in. Five sharp points let Cyrus know just how pisssed Sorin was.

“Alright, alright,” Cyrus muttered. “I’ll rest.”

Sorin gave a pointed sniff, but backed off, nosing the books onto the floor before Cyrus could move them himself. He draped himself across Cyrus’ body, purring deep in his chest the moment Cyrus relaxed.

Point taken.

---

Nik found himself getting summoned to Cameron’s office. He couldn’t even come get him himself, instead he had one of his toadies come and fetch him. Nik did pause, though, when he realized Cameron’s office was pitch black. “Cameron?”

“Sit.”

“Well great to see you, too,” Nik muttered, plopping down on the chair across from him. “For what have you summoned me?”

Cameron looked up in his direction, his eyes glowing animal bright in the darkness. It was so leery; NIk kept forgetting demons could do that. “I want you to go stay with your brother,” he said.

“You’re seriously kicking me out?” Nik said. “Is it because I refused to kiss Darius’ ass?”

Cameron blinked slowly at him, clearly not aware of Nik and Darius’ previous conversation. “No,” he said, mildly. “And it’s not forever. You can come back, if you want, during the weekends or for a couple of days during the week, the choice is yours.”

“Is this because of the demon lands being poisoned?”

“Yes,” Cameron said. “And since you decided to keep the fetus, and you decided to mate with me, that makes you both my responsibility, and I’m not going to let your sentimentality cause a miscarriage or stillbirth because you wanted to be near Lev.”

Nik felt heat rise in his face. “So what, because you mated with me, so my dad couldn’t take me home, you now have control of me?”

“If you want to be so frank,” Cameron said, bluntly, “we can do that. Demonic customs and all of that. However, consider it me giving you the choice to come back a few days of the week. I’d rather keep you off demonic land all together if I had my way about it.”

“And you don’t?” Nik snapped.

“If I had my way about anything, your brother would be dragging you by your ear back to his house in the next thirty minutes,” Cameron said, sharply. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be back until the fetus was well past four months old when the likelihood of an infant death was not nearly so high. If you wish to act like a petulant child, do it on your own time.”

“I am not acting like a child.”

“Yes,” Cameron said, “you are. You’re throwing hissy fits when you’re not getting your way and yelling at people for things they had nothing to do with. You are actively being a selfish little twat who refuses to not do what the hell is the right thing to do because you want to stay with Lev.”

Nik stared at him in shocked outrage. “Did you seriously call me a twat?”

“Is that all you got from that,” Cameron snapped. “So help me if I have to make the choice for you, you are not coming back to this house for the next eight months, you hear me? I will have your brother tie you to a fucking tree to make my godsdamned point.”

Nik opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form a thought, let alone a coherent sentence. “...fine,” he said. “I’ll go. I just, I didn’t want to leave either of you, especially when you can’t follow.”

“We will be fine,” Cameron said, a shade calmer. “I’m sure Lev will facetime you or knit you some baby blanket to pass the time, or whatever it is angels do for their pregnant mates. I don’t really care as long as both of you stop pissing me off.”

Any other time the idea of Lev knitting would make him wheeze. “I’m sorry,” Nik said, leaning back into the chair, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I’m just- I feel like I can’t get my footing lately and all of us are spinning out.”

“Well this will be a good chance for you to get grounded then, isn’t it?”

“When am I going?” he said, defeatedly.

“Nate will be here within the hour.”

----

It was dark when Eden woke. It was dark and she did not like that. No one was there to pick her up, and she didn’t like that even more. Papi had left her again. She remembered him leaving, and then Da had put her to bed instead of the pale one later that night. That was too many alterations to what was right and she did not like it.

Not one bit.

A shrill shriek bubbled in her throat, and she banged her hands on the side of her crib the moment she pulled herself up.

No one came to pick her up, which really was unfair. Eden deserved to be picked up. She screeched again, but the house was silent other than her cries.

Filled with the determination of a child wronged by the world, Eden scrabbled her way over the side of the crib. She hit the floor with a solid thud, and almost began to cry from the shock of it all. After a few minutes of sniffling, Eden was on her way again, hooking her little fingers around the door. It took a few tries, and she got it stuck on her leg more than once, but she got it open.

One of the Big Talls stared down at her, seeming as startled to see her as she was to see them. Rather than wait to see what they’d do, Eden booked it, moving as fast as she could crawl on chubby baby legs.

Behind her, the Big Tall said something loudly, and unwelcome hands grabbed her around the waist. Eden wailed a toddler war cry and bit the nearest finger with her little fangs. That seemed to work, because very quickly she found herself on the ground, even if the Big Tall still had a grip on her, and had cushioned her fall.

---

Cameron had yet to go to bed. He was sitting it the dark in Darius’ room past midnight with a small light and his book. His head snapped up when he heard Eden’s telltale screech-crying right aside a grown demon’s screaming as well.

He quietly sat down his book, ignoring the pain pulsing behind his eye and wrapping around his head and headed for the sound in question.

He found Eden on the floor, sitting and crying and smacking the sentry’s face, perhaps to get him to stop screaming. Or maybe she just felt like hitting someone.

Cameron scooped her up off the floor and peered down at the sentry’s bleeding hand and back to Eden’s sharp little fangs. “I see your venom has come in,” he sighed. He toed the sentry’s face up in his direction. “I will make sure to add this inconvenience to your paycheck. When you get a hold of yourself, take the rest of the night off.”

With that, Cameron stepped around him and took Eden down the hall. She was sniffling and mouthing at Cameron’s shoulder. He lightly pinched her leg. “Bite me and I’ll bite back,” he warned.

She seemed intent on ignoring his threat.

Cameron opened the door of the bedroom Lev was sleeping in and flicked the lights on. “Wake up,” he said, even as Lev stirred awake.

Lev propped himself up on his elbow and squinted at them. “Eden?”

“You wanted to keep the baby,” Cameron said, irritably, tracking across the room. “Take her. Be careful, though, her venom came in.”

“Oh baby,” Lev said, reaching for her. He was sitting up by now, and once Eden was safely in his lap he started rubbing her back lightly. “She can stay in my bed tonight. Maybe she had a nightmare.”

“Maybe,” Cameron agreed, tiredly. “Just don’t roll on top of her, I guess.” He started for the doorway and flicked the lights off once more, at least giving himself some relief. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Cameron made his way back to his chair, rubbing his temples on the way. Unsurprisingly Darius was sitting up, waiting for him. He patted the bed on the side Cameron had always slept on, clearly offering him the spot.

“You should be asleep.”

Darius gave him a very long look that Cameron chose to interpret as he should be as well- and then promptly dismissed it. “I have work I need to be doing.”

A small crease formed between Darius’ brows and he patted the bed more insistently.

Cameron sighed sharply. “If I get in, will you stop being a nuisance and go to sleep?” When Darius nodded, pleased, Cameron sighed once more and began undressing slowly, doing his best to not further aggravate his headache.

He crawled into the bed and put his face in the pillow, all too aware of the coolness of Darius’ skin next to his.

tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #original writing #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: the gods #ch: ash #ch: darius #hell to pay

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errorpeachy · 4 years ago

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☾ Will He?☽ 《Bakugo and Izuku X Reader》 Pt.2

Song: Will he - Joji

Hey bitches, take some more angst since the first part did tremendously well like holy shit-

I got knots all up in my chest.

You had been staying at Izuku’s house for the past week, and your days had consisted of crying, sleeping, working, and crying some more. Sometimes, Izuku managed to make you laugh, but for the most part, you had been stuck in a depressive state. Explaining to your receptionist what was going on, she was in the process of helping you issue a public statement saying you were no longer with the number two hero.

It was difficult to accept the fact that the Bakugo you once knew wasn’t the same Bakugo anymore. You two had been together for five years, so it was only understandable that you were hurting, but there were so many other things you were feeling. You felt anger at the fact he thought you were stupid enough to allow him to get away with it. You felt scared of the public and how they’d react, as well as the press. You felt so much disgust with yourself for allowing him to kiss you while being suspicious of another woman. Most of all, however, you were disappointed. Not in him, but yourself. You had played up this act, this lie that he had continued for two months, because you were too scared of the truth. You were scared of change, because he was all you ever knew. That wasn’t who you were.

Just know, I’m trying my best

You’d been recovering since the breakup, Izuku by your side. Slowly, he helped you back onto your feet, not financially, but emotionally. You were grateful every day for what he had done for you. He helped you the night you released your official statement, hugging you close as you cried into his chest. He took you out with your friends so you’d feel a little better, and he tried his best to do little things for you. Even though he was the number 1 hero, he still managed to remember things like your favorite candy or what kind of conditioner you preferred. It shocked you, to be honest. Bakugo never seemed to remember that kind of stuff.

Slowly, you went back to normal. A month passed since your breakup, and you were no longer holing yourself up in Izuku’s guest bedroom. You started looking for an apartment, and slowly, you felt yourself getting better. You were going to miss living with Izuku, but you were searching for something close by so you could still visit him whenever you wanted.

Currently, you were waiting for Izuku to meet up with you at your favorite café. He was going to help you pick an apartment complex today, and you were excited to see him as he had been working nonstop all week.

It had been fun, living with Izuku. You enjoyed being able to crack jokes while he cooked dinner and share a bowl of popcorn while watching mean girls, his unruly hair pushed back by a headband while he had a face mask on. It was funny to see him cranky in the morning, teasing him as you handed him his morning coffee. During the month, you had felt feelings bubble up in your chest for the broccoli-headed boy. You promptly shut those thoughts down. That was Bakugo’s childhood friend, and you were not about to get dragged into a love triangle, if you could call it that.

But when you look

You raised your head as you heard the familiar chime of the café’s entrance bell. Smiling, you got up to hug Izuku and pushed your computer aside. “Hey Y/N!” He said, smiling as he patted your head. You sat down, pulling you computer to your body. “Let’s get started!”.

When you laugh

When you smile

I’ll bring you back

“And then the guy had the audacity to say he didn’t steal anything when I had watched him!” Izuku finished, his story making you cry laughing. You two had finished apartment hunting, your computer closed off to the side as you enjoyed your friend’s company. A smile stayed on your face as you sipped you drink. What you weren’t aware of, was the gaze of a certain ash-blonde male.

He scoffed, his eyes watching you as you gently leaned your head against your hand. You looked at Izuku the same way you looked at him in high school. What was so great about him anyways? He didn’t even have his own quirk. He was nobody compared to...

He watched as you smiled at Izuku with so much love, so much joy. It hurt.

And now I’m sad

And I’m a mess

He knew it was his fault. He shouldn’t have done what he did. Sleeping around with his sidekick was the last thing he thought he was going to do. He knew he could just as easily go to you to get what he want, yet he didn’t. Was he bored? No, he wasn’t- he just thought he was hot shit. He thought that because he had reached number 2 status and you were content with where you were in life that you failed to keep up with him. He thought you went back on your promise.

But you hadn’t.

And now we high

That’s why I left

He stood up, paying for his food as he walked out. You blinked as you saw someone leaving, before making eye contact with him. Katsuki.

You immediately looked at Izuku, your muscles tensing up. “He’s here.” You muttered. He sighed, a mix of sympathy and annoyance mixed on his face. “I don’t know why he’s following you. You aren’t going to go back to him... are you?” He asked, looking at you. Pausing, you sighed. “It’s complicated.” You muttered, folding your hands. “I don’t want to right now, bu-“

“Then dont.” He said. You looked at him. “What?” “Don’t go back. Actually, I have a better idea.” He said, turning away as his cheeks flushed pink. You tilted your head. “What are you talking about, Izu?” You asked.

He looked at you, a small smile on his face. “What would you say if I suggested going on a date?” He asked. You blinked, eyes going wide. “A-a what?” You asked. He immediately waved his hands, getting flustered as he tried to backtrack. “Y-you don’t have to! It hasn’t been very long and I know you’re still probably recovering- oh my god why did I suggest this-“ he said, shooting off into a ramble as you smiled. Grabbing his hand, he stopped to look at you.

“I’d like that, Izuku.”

Humming, you added the finishing touches to your outfit as you combed out your hair. Your date plans were originally to go to a hero museum, however the hero commission decided to schedule a last-minute dinner party to congratulate Izuku on his ranking. You decided to go as his plus-one, and you were currently getting ready to leave.

“Y/N, are you almost- woah...” he said, question falling short as he stared at you. You laughed, getting up and grabbing his keys. “Yeah, let’s go.” You said, handing them to him. He put them in his pocket before holding your face gently. “You look amazing.” He said, a smile gracing his delicate features as you blushed. “Thanks- um... let’s go.” You said, gently moving his hands off so he wouldn’t see how embarrassed you were. He laughed, pulling his keys out and following you.

Will your tongue still remember the taste of my lips?

You knew he was going to be there. It was only inevitable. What you didn’t know, however, was that he was bringing her. Akemi Futara. You felt your skin crawl as she stared at you, like she had won a prize and was showing it off to the losing player. It made you sick, thinking of how you kissed him when he had gotten home after fucking her, and she knew that.

Sighing, you leaned into Izuku’s side, causing him to glance at you before giving you a sympathetic look. “I know, I know. If you want, I-I can ask for them to lea-“ “I’m fine. I know he’s your friend. She’s just annoying.” you muttered, closing your eyes. The people that kept coming up to interact with you and Izuku were giving you a headache. You could feel Bakugo’s stare on you, causing you to feel uncomfortable. He eyed you like you were still his.

“Izuku, kiss me please.” You said, causing him to turn to you sharply. A blush exploded across his face, and his eyes went wide. “I-I- whAt?” He stuttered, causing you to sigh. “Bakugo won’t take the hint. He’s gonna try to talk to me.” You muttered. “I just need to make him understand that I’ve moved on, so kiss me. You’re a grown man, so it’s not hard.” You teased. He gulped. Leaning down, he gave you a quick peck on the cheek. You huffed. “What the hell-“ “I don’t think we should kiss out of spite. I... I want it to be special, if we do...” he muttered shyly. You paused before smiling at him. “Izu, you’re adorable.” you giggled.

Will your shadow remember the swing of my hips?

Bakugo watched as you had fun, dancing your heart out with your friends. He felt envy as he watched Izuku struggle to groove with you. He watched as you took his hands and tried your best to teach him, slowly helping him understand. To say he was mad was an understatement. No, he was angry- pissed even. You dumped him and now you’re going after the guy he’s known since childhood? How low of a blow could you deal?

Jealousy was eating away at his core. He felt the same jealousy as he watched Izuku get everything he had wanted in life. Why couldn’t he have that? Why did it need to be him? As he grew in ranks, he distanced himself from you to work better, and you were okay with that. But he wanted more. He wanted to climb and climb and go higher and higher, but you had been content right where you were. You promised him you’d keep up with his pace, but as you brought up the thoughts you had of marriage, he realized that you wanted him to settle down with you.

And he didn’t want that.

Will your lover caress you the way that I did?

He realized as Izuku gently held your hands that he was wrong about everything. He should have just settled down. You were all he wanted in someone, and yet somehow, he wanted more. He was so greedy that he failed to see that what he had was the best he could get. He never gave you what you needed, yet he thought that he needed more.

Will you notice my charm if he slips up one bit?

He watched you go over to the bar and get a drink of water, chest heaving from how much dancing you had done. Getting up, he looked over to where Akemi was socializing before going over to you.

You saw him, cringing as you immediately turned your back to him. You didn’t want to deal with this tonight. It was supposed to be a night for you and Izuku, with no problems in the way. You watched as he took a seat next to you at the bar, ordering a drink before turning to you.

Cause I don’t need to know, I just wanna make sure you’re okay

“How are you?” He asked quietly, causing you to scoff. How were you? Fucking great, right now, but a month ago you were a damn wreck. Rolling your eyes, you looked down at your drink. “Im great. I can tell you are too, with that Akemi girl.” You said, matter of fact. He paused before nodding, despite it being far from the truth.

Cause I don’t need to know, I just wanna make sure you’re all safe

“He hasn’t hurt you, has he?” He asked. You turned to him. “If he did, I wouldn’t be here. Frankly, the only person in this room that’s hurt me is you.” You said, before turning away from him. “Please leave me alone, Katsuki. I don’t want to talk to you.” You muttered. He went quiet, his eyes staring into your back without faltering. After a bit, he closed his eyes and got up, moving away from you as he went to go talk to his friends. You sighed before feeling a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m proud of you.” Izuku said softly, gently rubbing circles into your shoulder. You smiled. You were proud of yourself too.

Will he play you those songs just the way that I did?

Izuku fumbled as he grabbed a guitar pick, sitting crossed-legged across from you on your bed. He had picked up learning how to play in his free time, and he wanted to show you what he knew.

Rain hit the windows quietly as he started to play you your favorite song, causing you to smile. He was so thoughtful, and he had shown you as much throughout the month you and him had spent dating.

Your memories with Bakugo were forever burned into your brain, but that was in the past. You had Izuku now. And that’s all you needed.

He started to sing quietly, smiling as you joined in. You watched his calloused hand stroke the guitar with such care. It made your heart flutter, how he was so built yet so gentle.

You heard a knock at your apartment door, causing you to go quiet as you looked at him. “Did you invite Uraraka over?” He asked curiously. You shook your head, watching as he set his guitar aside on the bed carefully. “I’ll get it. He muttered, moving to get up, but you stopped him. “It’s fine, I got it. Just relax.” You said, kissing his cheek before getting up and making your way to the door. Unlocking it, you pulled it open.

“Y/N.” Bakugo said, ruby eyes meeting yours. You blinked. What the hell was he doing here? It was raining, for Christ’s sake!

You frowned. “What is it, Bakugo.” You said, using his name formally. He cringed. It was like you never knew him. “I need to talk to you. Please, let me in.” He said. You had never seen him so desperate.

Will he play you so strong just the way that I did?

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Whatever you need to tell me better be short and sweet.” You said, opening the door as he stepped inside. You stopped him before he sat down on your couch. “You can stand.” You said coldly.

Clearing his throat, he looked you in the eyes.

“I want you back Y/N.”.

Will he treat you like shit just the way that I did?

You felt yourself go numb as he started to apologize in his stereotypical way. “I was an asshole, and I’m sorry.” He said. You could hear your ears ringing as you stared at him. Who the hell did he think he was?

“It took you two months to work past your pride and apologize? Are you kidding me?” You said angrily, causing him to huff. “I never apologize for anything, so this just shows how much I care.” “No, it shows how much of a fucking asshole you are!”

Cause I don’t blame you.

Growling, he balled his hands up as he started to shout back. “Why can’t you ever just listen to me?” He said. You laughed. “You don’t deserve that after you cheated on me and then apologized two months later after I had already moved on!” You shouted. You heard Izuku come down the hallway, seeing Bakugo argue with you. He gave him a look he rarely gave anyone. It was one of anger.

Cause I don’t need to know, I just wanna make sure you’re okay

“Get out.” He said coldly. Bakugo turned to him, anger evident in his eyes. “What the hell did you just say to me, Deku?” He sneered, causing you to glare at him. “I said get out. You’ve overstayed your welcome with my partner.” He responded. You watched as the realization hit Bakugo like a brick. He lost.

You finally knew you were worth more than him.

Cause I don’t need to know, I just wanna make sure you’re all safe.

You watched as he left quietly, shutting the door behind him. Izuku was still tense from the confrontation, and you went over to him. Touching his face gently, you gave him a sweet kiss on the lips. He turned red, immediately relaxing. “What was that for?” He asked. You smiled. “It was for defending me. Thank you for everything, Izuku.” You said softly. He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist. “It’s my pleasure.” He said, kissing your temple.

You will always have memories of Bakugo.

But now, you had Izuku.

#bnha izuku midoriya #izuku midoria x reader #midoriya izuku #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #midoriya Izuku x reader #bnha angst #mha angst #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha scenarios #bnha angst fic

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years ago

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Trouble, Trouble (Part 2) | Javier Peña x Murphy!reader

Summary: You’re Steve’s little sister and show up to Columbia for a visit. You catch a certain DEA agent’s eye.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay. I haven’t felt like writing and there’s been a lot going on at home. I finally got to writing this and I hope you all like it. It’s been a while since I’ve watched an episode of Narcos, so if i’m a little off character, apologies. Also, please ignore any grammatical errors. I read over it like three times but sometimes errors get through. Hope y’all like it! xx

!! It’s got some flashbacks in the beginning that might be triggering, so proceed with caution. !!

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS (@ithinkwehitametaphor - owner is listed below the bottom of the gif)

You’d met Tony at one of the nightclubs in Miami. You were working as one of the entertainers for some extra cash when he’d took a liking to you. He started coming in every couple of days, making sure to leave a good tip for you. You hadn’t thought much of the cash. Cash was cash at this point and it was more than enough to cover your debts. However, Tony had come back a month later with a new group of guys, this time cocaine under their belts, which at the time you had no idea about.

Tony cornered you one night and asked about you wanting to make extra cash. Again, cash was cash and you were naïve. Your instincts should have been better considering who your brother was. You were to take the boxes which were to be delivered every Friday to other night clubs surrounding the Miami area. Rule was, no looking in the boxes. Just deliver them to the night clubs and leave it with the bouncer. You figured it was easy enough.

However, two months in, 8 deliveries total, you became brave and curious. What was this guy getting you to deliver? Why was it so secretive? Where was he getting the cash to pay you every week, especially the large sum that was delivered to you the next night after a delivery was completed. These are questions you probably should have asked yourself before getting into this situation, but again, you were naïve. You peeked into one of the boxes one night and there wrapped inside was cocaine. You knew right away, you were dealing with a drug cartel and there was no escaping now. The next night when you saw Tony, you told him you didn’t want to do deliveries anymore.

“You don’t want to do deliveries no more?” He’d asked you with a cigarette between his lips. It was you, Tony and two other guys in a private room. He never came without backup. Yeah, Steve had taught you self defense, but to take on three guys, who were all carrying guns? That was a death wish.

You shook your head, “N-no.. I.. I want to work here on Friday nights again.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, flicking the cigarette against the ash tray and bringing the cigarette to his lips again, “You stop making deliveries when I tell you to.” He stood and took a step closer.

However, when you stepped back, your back hit the chests of the two men. You gulped as you stared up into his dark and soulless eyes, “I just.. I miss my girls on Friday’s you know?”

He stared at you for a few moments before he gave a signal to his boys. The two men grabbed you by the arms and held you against them as Tony lifted part of your skirt and pressed the cigarette but into your skin and burning a small hole into your thigh. You’d cried and screamed against one of the man’s hands.

Tony gripped you by the chin and made you look at him, “You’re in this now, chica. There’s no escaping. You do deliveries until I tell you stop. You understand me?”

You whimpered against the man’s hands and as he dropped it so you could answer, Tony’s fingers gripped your chin even harder, “I said, do you understand me?”

“Yes.” You whimpered. The men’s grip on you loosened and you fell to your knees in a sobbing mess.

He had not been stupid. He knew you’d looked into those boxes. He also knew you were too scared to say anything. Especially when he personally delivered a note to your door that threatened to kill your family and that he knew you’d seen the deliveries. However, you were smart. You worked under a different name and he had no idea who you truly were. It was an empty threat.

You spoke to Steve a few days later during one of your routine checkup calls and you’d mentioned coming to visit. That’s when he told you no; Columbia wasn’t a safe place for you. However, you figured it safer than having to face Tony again. At least you would be with your brother. He could protect you right? Or would you be making a mistake and bringing danger to him?

“Please tell me there’s coffee.” You mumble out as you walk into the kitchen.

“Geez, you look rough.” Steve snickers into his mug.

You flip him the finger and make a face at him, “asshole.”

“Here is a cup and creamer is in the fridge.”

You gratefully take the coffee mug from Connie, “You’re a saint.”

A knock sounded on the door. “Probably Peña.” Steve comments before calling out toward the door, “Come in!”

“I smell coffee.” Javier says as he walks into the kitchen, slipping passed you he takes in your messy hair. You hadn’t slept well at all last night. “Damn, you look rough.”

Your mouth is agape as you stare at him. The balls on this guy, “Yeah well, so does that mustache you’re trying to grow.” You bump shoulders with him as you stalk passed him.

He holds a hand to his heart, “Ouch.” Connie and Steve can’t help but chuckle at the jab. He proceeds to make his coffee, “You want a ride to the office?” He directs his question to Steve, but you pipe up.

“Oh, can I tag along?”

“it’s not bring your little sister to work day.” Steve answers, “You’re gonna hang out here with Connie. Don’t want you roaming the streets and get lost or something.”

“Uh.. I have work today, remember?” Connie says, pointing at the calendar on the fridge, “it’s been written on the calendar for a week!”

“Damnit.” Steve mutters, “Fuck.”

“I’m not a little kid. I can handle being home alone.”

Javier leans against the counter and sips his coffee, “Why couldn’t she come? We haven’t had a lead in weeks and we’re probably going to be doing paperwork all day anyways.”

You raise your hand into the air, “Um hello, not a child. I can take care of myself. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Just let him baby you. Makes him feel better.” Connie teases Steve and gives him a kiss, then rounds the counter to give you a hug, “See you guys tonight.”

“I don’t get a hug or kiss?” Javier holds his arms out.

Connie rolls her eyes at his antics and blows him a kiss, “That’s as close as you’re getting to me. There’s no telling what diseases you have.”

The three of you finish your cups of coffee and you stand, “Let me get ready then we can go.”

“Hurry up or we’re gonna be late.” Steve takes the mugs and washes them out as you head to the bathroom to shower.

Javier can’t help himself as he watches you saunter to the bathroom. You can feel his eyes watching you and decide to tease him a little. A little teasing never hurt anyone. Leaving the door cracked, he can see your reflection in the mirror. He leans forward to get a better look around the wall, just in time to see you pull off your shirt and shut the door.

When you arrive at the Embassy, you three walk directly back to Javier and Steve’s desk. “Not too bad.” You comment looking around. You spot their board filled with photos of what you assumed were cartel members. Some had red X’s over their photos, indicating they were dead. There was a column for Columbia and another column for Miami. Your eyes scanned over the different photos.

“We shut down this group last week.” Javier boasts, pointing to the group of men on the left.

You nod, “Connie said Pablo was always one step ahead.”

Javier sighs and leans back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah. The fucker is quick. I think we’re getting close though.” He points to the right side of the board, where Miami column was located, “Found out a few members are working in Miami.”

Your breath catches when you see his photo pinned to the board.

“His name is Tony. From what we know, he’s the one who delivers the cocaine to various clubs around Miami.” He could tell by the look on your face something was wrong.

Your face had gone pale, like you’d seen a ghost. You knew he was in the drug cartel, selling cocaine, but what you didn’t know was he was working alongside Pablo Escobar.

“Hey, are you okay?” Javier takes a step toward you and gently grabs your elbow.

You gulp and nod, trying to shake it off, “yeah yeah.. I’m fine.” You definitely were not fine. You were in trouble.

Narcos tag list: @neymarlionelmessi7 , @weirdowithnobeardo , @1950schick , @xremember-me-notx

*if your name is crossed out, tumblr is being stupid and won’t let me tag you.

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organic-guacamole · 3 years ago

Text

showtime

episode 211 let's go

ok first of all, this is the second to last episode guys... I don't even wanna think about how much pain I'll be in after next week's episode

mr mazzara doing the recap-

this is so weird to me and I don't know why

WHY DIDN'T YALL JUST ASK BENJAMIN FOR HELP, THATS LITERALLY HIS THING

is Nini giving out the cards a callback to season 1 when Natalie Bagley said that Nini gave her a card or something on opening night of another musical?

STEPHY AS THE ENCHANTRESS OMG YES

Ricky in the crown gives me Harry styles in that photoshoot vibes

he's so pretty.

ok but why did we never see Ricky and Ashlyn interact before? it's been like 5 seconds and I already love how they bounce off each other and it's just so natural

OH THEY REALLY DON'T HAVE ANY UNDERSTUDIES-

well that explains a lot...

so Ricky fell on top of Ashlyn and all that broke for both of them was their wrist-

insert Jake Peralta *coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool no doubt no doubt no doubt*

of course howie was amazing as the beast, were we expecting anything less??

Ricky is so beautiful and I will not shut up about it....

let me enjoy this before the makeup crew slaps mud on his face.

Nini and Ricky talking to eachother? in a civil manner? wasn't she avoiding him just in the last episode? hm ok

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH THEY CANT EXPRESS THEIR FEELINGS JUST LIKE ME HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS HILARIOUS, WHATS NEXT? THEY CUT EVERYONE OFF CUZ THEY CANT HANDLE EMOTIONS? ...ha

yes Kaden and Rico, my favourite east high boys 🥰

I mean....where's EJ?

THERE HE IS

EJ AND GINA IN THE BACKGROUND... doing something idek

KOURTNEY'S MOM IS BACK YAY

Howie is a shining star, ofc ofc

the smallest fOrk

can't wait to see the fork burst into song about how she deserves more than to be used to eat salad😌

the duster and the bluster.... ok😃

hi Gina!

hi- oh wow I didn't know Robbie Rotten was in this show!!!!!

the portwell look.

that my friends, is a married couple's look✋

GOSH EJ WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU

aww Gina's so excited for this

D word?

Die?

Delicious?

Dom Toretto?

"good, clean fun all alone with someone I dig...a lot"

sir that does not sound very clean to me

SEBLOS

Seb looks so cute standing there next to pope Carlos

DID THEYEY REALLY LIGHT ANTOINE ON FIRE-

I NEED TO SEE THAT

Seb's reading Carlos better than big red read the script in episode 102, this is great development after the "fight"

Kourtney really just made the best outfit for herself and let the rest of them suffer

the way Gina immediately goes to hold on to EJ after the announcement

"tonight we're going to put the U in UTAH"

...

"hey where are you from?"

"TAH"

SEB'S SINGULAR CLAP KILLED ME-

he's officially salt lake city's resident thanos

just wity clapping because for some reason I have a feeling he doesn't know how to snap his fingers...don't ask why

Ms Jenn do you mind encouraging your leads before the show? idk just an idea

pepto bismol product placement smhsmh

those flowers are bigger that big red himself-

*bops along to the opening theme*

that whistle at the end slaps everytime

WHY IS THE AUDIENCE SO MASSIVE

I guess they're all here to see Ms Jenn go on as a fork after Nini decides to *go her own way*

wow i am so funny

so they couldn't do many group scenes cuz of covid, but this 300 person crowd is cool? nice

OO THE VIOLIN GIRL FROM EPISODE 6 IS IN THE ORCHESTRA

HOWIEEEEEE

"Mr Caswell", he said, in the loudest voice possible while backstage at a show that's about to start.

Mazzara what are you trying to pull-

I usually like Benjamin but I don't like his tone

"iS yOuR wHoLe FaMiLy HeRe?" LIKE YOU DON'T ALREADY KNOW THATS A SOFT SPOT FOR EJ

"we've had some good conversations these past few weeks"

right so what's going to happen after you graduate?

what does he think of you not going to Duke?

what did he say about you giving the sweatshirt that's been in the family for 3 generations to a girl you're not even dating?

good old Mr. M

therapist Mr. Mazzara, they all need it.

start with Ricky though.

"Michael Bowen"

dude why did you shave, now you look less like "hot lumberjack" and more "creep at the gas station"

OH-

does she not like Mike anymore?

why does it sound like jennzzara started dating and now they just sit back and talk smack about everyone in their freetime

break the fourth wall-

uhhhh im scared

why am I scared

he's scary

hehe flowers for Ricky, obviously for Ricky, ObViOuSLY

oh boy poor Michael

this man is in love, rip

why does Ms Jenn always look at people with her eyes open so wide

LILYYYY

I'm only excited because I really like the idea of lily and Ricky being friends, nothing more.

ha this guy's got jokes

a MOAT AROUND THE SCHOOL

wheeze

also he's very pretty.

"the wolves and very talented humans"

how dare he forget to mention the very talented wolves and normal humans, smh erasure

"being nice, what a concept" ted talk by Lily who still doesn't have a last name

did she just say lol out loud

same with the hug emoji last episode-

go touch some grass babes

the way he didn't say no, but said he didn't know how the east high kids would react-

not saying he does want to date her but that's an interesting thing to think about, also another thing to write an essay analysis on just to leave it in my drafts for a few months

awww lily genuinely trying to help him

sorry guys, I've been taken by the Lily charm (didn't know it existed until now but oh well)

REMEMBER WHEN I SAID I'LL NEVER SHIP PORTWELL?

just look at me now

the Lily wink I can't she's so cute-

HELP ME I'M BEING HELD HOSTAGE BY LIL-

David Attenborough?

oh nvm it's Benjamin narrating the show in a really weird British accent for some reason.

STEPHY GOT MORE LINES YAY GOOD FOR HER

also is this to show that Nini doesn't care about being the star of the show anymore? the way she's supporting everyone else even though she's a fork?

I would pay for a special of the full musical ngl

OOO THE TRANSFORMATION WAS SMOOTH

shockingly

yo where did the makeup come from

man I wish I was a theatre kid

THIS IS STEPHY'S EPISODE NOW IDC✋

my girl is starring

"needs an X-factor"

Simon Cowbell creeps in

"it's a yes from me"

and them boom, he takes Nini and mistreats her horribly and then she comes back to theatre after deciding music isn't for her👍

"I thought she just hog-tied him?"

don't ask sebby, it's better if you don't know.

imagine they spotlight the wrong person and this dude is just some random person that likes writing down stuff during shows.

Ms Jenn just let them do what they rehearsed (at some point we never saw) or else this is gonna end horribly wrong

"help"

same Carlos, same

I love how seb is just his translator rn

I thought he said "great displeasure" instead of "greatest pleasure"....help?

big red coming out from throwing up to see his girlfriend star is the cutest thing in this show.

Ash and Gina dancing is so fun

I'm imagining them practicing at night at their home, watching the movie for the 100th time and making sure their one dance together is perfect

KOURTNEY YES

HOWIE IS IN LOVE AHHHH

I LOVE HOWIE SO MUCH

SEBBY

THIS SCENE HAS SO MUCH GOING ON I CAN'T KEEP UP

THIS IS SO GOOD

HOW???

no because I'm actually crying

I'm dead serious.

we need this musical released as a special

big red is so proud and I love to see it

Natalie: "if you do not by at least 20 dollars in concessions, you do not support art"

rando in the audience: "but I pay for ad free Spotify"

Mr Mazzara clapping in the distance

Gigi, the guy you like is talking to you, complimenting you and hyping you up

YOU LUCKY LITTLE FEATHER DUSTER

aw EJ teasing her about the chocolates in a way that doesn't make her feel bad? take notes Richard

JORDAN FISHER

there is no rest of the show idc Jordan is it for me

THE WIG CAP ON RICKY OMG

they look like they're high and having "deep" conversations on the floor

THE MEAN GIRL WITH THE EYES-

@sunshine-julie-molina YOU HEAR THAT

Natalie really just be coming for them all

Howie what is happening rn

I'm scared

"did you enjoy it"

"very much"

dude wants a kiss so bad

ASHLYN OMG

NO DON'T DO IT BECAUSE OF LILY, PUT YOUR OWN TWIST ON IT

I want a Jordan autograph please

just keep swim- oh pushing...

Gina is literally a giant next to him and I live for it

am I about to cry for the 3rd time in this episode?

yes.

Ricky's leg kicks under the table makes me so happy aw

the portwell glances will kill me.

ah yes, mashed potato snow

Mr. M.... I'm not a theatre kid but even I know you can't have your phone on backstage.

Howie please just do it

CHIP'S BIG LINE I CANT

I LITERALLY HAD TO PAUSE IT AMD SCREAM INTO MY MASK FOR A SOLID 2 MINUTES (I'm not at home rn) HES SO CUTE

oh ok bye Jordan

oo tea

NOT HIM BEING STARSTRUCK BECAUSE HE'S MEETING HIS FUTURE BROTHER IN LAW-

"we're all just glad Gigi has a big brother figure in her life"

excuse me for a few thousand hours while I laugh hysterically

THE CAMERA ZOOM ON EJS FACE AND EVERYTHING-

STOP EJ LOOKS LIKE HE'S GONNA CRY BUT I CAN'T TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY WITH THE STAGE MAKE-UP

someone else said this already but I think it's hilarious that they had to bring in 2 guest characters to create some portwell angst

omg this really is Cici's episode, found family is their thing

elevator music lol

I'm gonna bet that big red took the harness for his surprise for Ashlyn without realising what it was

did Ms. Jenn just....tell her most mentally unstable student....to commit suicide....on a disney show...was that....I'm very....well....what the actual-

oh and there she goes running off instead of trying to make it right

oh wow Nini's the hero, she's gonna save the show 🤩

😐

the judge is doing a sudoku

honestly if I went to the hsm show as well, I'd come prepared for this one too

Lily why are you looking like that-

I WAS JUST STARTING TO LIKE YOU DON'T MESS THIS UP

wow ok, there goes that.

omg

what if Howie was acting weird because he knew what Lily did and wanted to tell Kourtbut Lily threatened him so he was scared to-

anyways see y'all clowns next week when we all simultaneously lose all motivation for the week without Fridays to look forward to.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2 #hsmtmts season 2 #hsmtmts spoilers #ej caswell #gina porter #ricky bowen #nini salazar roberts #seb mathew smith #carlos rodriguez #big red #ashlyn caswell #kourtney greene #howie my pizza king #lily hsmtmts

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nonbinarychaoticstupid · 3 years ago

Note

c or e (maybe both?) for the ask game

>:) (also he/they/she catra because i'm having too much fun with this hc)

this kinda fits the angst more than the fluff but i hope u like it nonetheless! (also. ending properly? who's that?)

Everything hurts.

Everything hurts, and he can't stop crying -

(Catra knows they're asleep, or dreaming, or dead, because there's no way any of this is real, there's no way Adora is real and Adora came back for her and there's no way Adora could possible be here right now and -)

"I'm going to take you home," she says, distantly, and if she could hear past the humming of the hive mind in her ears she might be able to -

Prime's voice howls in their ears, and it hurts, and Catra grits their teeth and forces out a choked whimper that somehow, somehow ends in "P-promise?" and oh, he's going to pay for fighting back like that, and the thought isn't their own - Adora -

"I promise," Adora says - no, sobs - and he wonders, somewhere in the closed-off portion of his mind Prime seems to have relinquished, if he'd be allowed to reach across the fragile space between them and fall into Adora's arms like he wants to, if the mind pressing hard against his own would allow him that small reprieve.

(They wonder if Adora would hold them back, if she'd let them sink into their arms like they've wanted to for years and never let go. They wonder if she'd - if she'd recoil at their touch - if -)

Something inside her lurches free of Prime's grip, that instinct that keeps her clutching at her arms and trembling and sobbing out here on this lonely platform jutting out into empty space, and Catra - stars, she just wants to be home again - Catra reaches out and chokes out a broken, soft, "Adora-" and -

It happens so quickly they barely have time to register it - pain lances up their body, they cry out, because it's - it's so much worse, it's so much more than when Prime drowned them in the pool, and then the world is white and blank and gone and they're floating in silence, in nothingness, devoid of thought and emotion and everything except vague, passive knowledge of the world trembling around them. And it's quiet, and Catra - and Catra -

When the world comes back to him, it's framed in harsh, blinding black-and-white-and-green light, in tears spilling from the eyes of the blue-eyed girl standing, frozen in terror, at the other end of the universe, in green-edged lightning and in the kind of pain he'd grown used to feeling almost every day of his life.

When the world comes back to Catra, they are screaming.

(And they could fill pages and pages of the notebooks they used to hide under Adora's mattress with every fragment of this pain, with every inch of their body being burned and turned into ash and electrified by the chip in the back of their neck. They could spend hours trying to pin down every heartbeat of it, magnified and so, so much more intense than what they grew up with.

But before Catra can form that thought properly, pushing at the barriers in her mind, before she can do anything except catch a fleeting glimpse of the cry pulling at Adora's lips through white-hot nothing, the brief flashes of the world she has been allowed to see vanish and she topples backward into nothing -

He topples backward into nothing, and he feels what fragile hold on consciousness he hand slip away, and he feels the breath rattle out of his lungs and thinks, desperately, echoing in the vast empty hollow of his mind Prime must have vacated, ADORA - )

Catra is dead.

She knows this with unbreakable certainty, knows this the heartbeat she pulls her broken, bleeding body against her and feels her breath stalling and shaking and shattering out of her body. And it tears something deep inside her apart.

She's trembling with the force of it, fumbling for the back of the head of the body in her arms, feeling the new ends of the hair she must have fought so hard to try and keep and the chip embedded in the back of her neck.

Catra is dead, and Adora is clinging to all that's left of her in the bottom of an impossibly vast spaceship, and in all her life she's never felt as alone, as - as desperately empty as she does right now, and -

And the pit of despair and the hole in her heart shatter wide open.

And Adora moulds that rage, that grief, into something - more.

It's beyond anything he's ever known. It's colder and brighter and darker and softer than anything he's ever known, and it's coursing through his veins and tugging at the fraying edges of his mind and -

Catra takes her first breath in what could have been forever and knows, instinctively, that she was dead.

She was dead, and the thing pulling at their mind and their soul and their body is what brought them back.

And said thing is holding them right now, cradling their head in her rough, familiar hands and - and crying -

Catra takes another breath, one that turns into something like a cough, and opens his eyes - and - and there she is, glowing and crying quietly and playing gently with the newly-cut ends of his hair , and it's been so long since they've been this close and smiled at each other like this and he opens his mouth and mumbles "H-hey, Adora," and she sobs and pulls them into her arms -

Stars.

They - they didn't think they'd ever be held like this again. They didn't think it was possible for someone to want to hold them like this. But Adora - Adora, who wasn't supposed to come for her, who saved her, who literally just brought her back from death - is pulling Catra against her like she's never held her before and she can't bring herself to do anything but wrap her arms around her and bury her face in her shoulder and let out a small, broken noise that turns into purring.

Purring.

Adora is holding them for the first time in years and crying into Prime's weird plastic-y shirt and Catra is purring.

You came back for me.

When Catra wakes up, Adora is in his bed. And his mind, for the first time in what feels like years, is completely and utterly silent. And - and there's a mess of scar tissue where the chip was, and he's warmer than he's been in a long time. (Not hot - warm, warm like falling asleep in a beam of sunlight, warm like being tangled up in Adora's arms again, warm like - warm like being home again.)

He opens an eye. Shuts it again, because Adora is staring directly at them. Mumbles, "You shouldn't have come for me, you know."

(And it's then that they realise that she's practically draped over them, head nestled in the curve of their collarbone, arms looped around their waist like they're 12 again and Adora is the centre of the world and she's holding Catra like she's her moon and -)

"I know."

She opens an eye again. It's dark in here, darker than she expected it to be, and Adora's expression is hopeful and stupid and she glows in the dark like she was when she healed her yesterday and oh-

"... Why did you?"

"Hm?"

Catra breathes out, long and slow, and shuts his eyes again. And just like that, the glow and Adora's weird bright expression and everything else is gone. And he can practically hear her thinking next to him, hand looping up to stroke his hair like they're kids again. "Why did you come back for me?"

"Oh." Adora pauses, swallows. "Well, I guess it's because I still -"

He laughs, feeling hollow. "Still care about me? After I, I don't know, tried to kill you multiple times? Almost destroyed reality?"

"Yes," she says, firmly, and rolls onto her back. Catra would mourn the loss of her warmth if their head wasn't spinning. "I told you. Yesterday. I never hated you. I never stopped caring about you."

She's lying. She's lying. She's-

"I know you think I'm lying," Adora murmurs. Catra tenses. "I know you think you're not worth being saved. I know you think I'd never come back for you, because you don't think you deserve it."

"I don't," he mumbles. "I hurt people. You aren't supposed to want me around. You - you weren't supposed to come back."

"But I did," she says, slowly, and takes his hand.

(Catra tenses again, and it strains muscles he didn't know could hurt like that, and he bites down hard on his lip and tries not to make a noise because - because then Adora would think of him as - as weak -)

"Does it hurt?"

The question - well, it sort of startles them into opening their eyes and glancing in Adora's direction, and then they have to squeeze them shut again, because she's staring at them with such a hopeful, wide-eyed expression that they -

"Huh?"

"Your neck, I mean." She lets go of their hand, hesitantly, and reaches up to the scars crawling up their shoulder blades. And, oddly, Catra doesn't flinch away when she touches them.

(Because - oh - it's been years since she was touched like that and she's almost forgotten what it felt like and -)

"Um. Kinda," she gets out, and Adora nods, like that makes sense. "Everything hurts, to be honest. Just - everything."

A moment passes, and then Adora lets out a small sigh and breathes, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry you're in pain," she mumbles. "I'm sorry I can't do anything to fix it."

Well, there's no nice way they can respond to that.

Catra shifts onto their side, gritting their teeth as pain bites at the base of their tail. Adora is still watching them, eyes half-closed, lying on her back on the mattress and biting her lip like she's - nervous.

Hm. Shit.

It takes them a moment, but - but they -

"Adora?"

"Yeah?"

She breathes in. Out. "Can you - um -"

"Go?" she fills in gently. "Stay? Do you need me to - to get off the bed or get you some food or water? Do you -"

"Stars, Adora, I was just gonna ask if you could hold me. You know, like you were when we - when we fell asleep? I - I mean, it's okay if you don't want to, it's not like -"

He's cut off by a pair of strong arms wrapping around his waist, a head settling on his shoulder, and Adora's soft laughter against his collarbone.

Oh.

Okay.

A heartbeat, and then she whispers, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah. This is fine."

#sep texxt #ask #sep's writing #moanla #tw death #tw death mention #tw scars

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captaincravatthecapricious · 4 years ago

Text

Feverish and Teary & How Long Has it Been Since You’ve Eaten- Prompt Fill

@thatonekidellis Jon, Tim, and Martin have a rough time after the Unknowing. Especially Jon. I hope this is kind of what you were asking for?

@janekfan you get a ping because this is your au!

CWs: nausea, vomiting, fainting, fever, food mention, alcohol mention, canon typical mentions of Tim's pre-unknowing mindset, canon typical Jon not taking care of himself.

I am still accepting bingo prompts, so let me know which character, which prompt, and if you want a drawing of a fic! Bingo card by the wonderful @celosiaa! This one is twice my usual length because it is two prompts and I did not want to cheat!

The Unknowing blows up.

As simple as that.

All according to plan.

It really is as simple as that.

Jon, Tim, Daisy, Basira. Piled back in Daisy's car. Ears ringing. Soot slowly settling. Trying to drive away before the actually police get there.

It hasn't been Jon's problem how to avoid arrest.

He is even more glad it isn't his problem now, as he slides down the beat up seat in the back of Daisy's car. Ash streaks the window, mixing with the light rains that is starting to fall.

Jon tries not to vomit the nothing he's eaten in the last couple days. Nothing in him but frayed nerves and statements. Hadn't even managed to stomach dramamine before their trip.

Jon just wants to sleep.

They still have their hotel reservation for another couple hours, so Daisy drives them back there to clean up before heading back to London. Yes they have to go back today, it's less suspicious. Jon isn't sure if that is actually true, but he doesn't have the energy to argue.

Tim showers. Jon sends a text to Martin. 'Alive.'

He doesn't answer Martin's near-immediate call because just then he's dry-heaving into the small bin in the corner. Stiff and shaking and sweaty and miserable.

Jon showers. Too dizzy to stand, he sits on the shower floor. He hates that. The tub feels filthy. He feels filthy. He scrubs his skin raw. He stands. He throws up more nothing. He scrubs himself again, leaning heavily on the wall.

He wants to talk to Tim. He wants to tuck himself into Tim's arms and never move again. Christ, he's running an impressive fever. Probably. It's hard to tell. And his brain is swimming too much to even think about asking the Eye.

He's cold. He shivers in his threadbare joggers and stolen jumper (Martin's).

He wants to join Tim on the bed by the window, but Tim ...looks too deep in a melancholy thought to even notice. Somewhere between losing his drive for anything, adrenaline crash, and losing the last hope of a last glimpse of Danny, if Jon were to guess.

Jon could say something. He knows he could. But, hasn't he caused enough of a fuss? Made Tim and Martin trail after him after the ...the.... with Daisy and... that. If he'd have just stayed quiet and stayed still... well Tim would still hate him... and might not be alive... but ....but he's caused so much worry with that. And then with... his other kidnapping No. He can't think about what that... what... not without puking again which... the point is not to worry Tim. Which means he should try some medicine again.... if he can keep it in him half an hour he'll survive the drive back. Probably.

Christ, when is the last time he bothered to drink anything?

He lays there in a daze until Daisy bangs on the door telling them it's time to leave.

Tim sleeps on the drive back. Finally giving into the last few sleepless nights. Jon is jealous.

Last night had been spent tangled together, shaking, awake, and silent. Anxiety too thick to slice with words. Not even nothing to turn off the lights, because the fear is a little easier to manage in the light. Jon couldn't stop thinking about Nikola. He couldn't stop thinking about plastic hands on him. Couldn't stop thinking about how many things could go wrong and how he could lose Tim and Martin when he only just got Tim back.

Jon was pretty sure Tim hadn't been sleeping the last few nights. Jon knows he hasn't. Not that he has slept well in a long time.

In any case, Tim sleeps. Jon doesn't.

Daisy glares at him through the review mirror. Jon isn't sure if she is still waiting for him to prove himself monstrous so she can attack, or if she is making sure he isn't ill in her car... again. (He really wishes he could forget his first ride in her car. Really really really wishes. It was not a pleasant experience for anyone, and Daisy had made him pay the cleaning bill.)

It doesn't matter, he slides down further in his seat and closes his eyes tightly.

His head hurts.

Thankfully the medicine knocks him out soon enough.

Martin greets them at the institute door. Melanie by his side.

Jon hazily wakes up to Martin gently touching his shoulder.

"You actually made it! I'm so glad you're safe... I was so worried, Jon why didn't you answer your phone, I've been so worried, I mean I know you would have said something if something had happened, but Christ I've been so worried about you, come here."

Jon starts mumbling some apologies, but is interrupted by Martin gently gathering him in a hug. Jon sinks into it, fervently hoping Martin doesn't notice the heat rolling off of him.

Thankfully Martin is too distracted, gathering Tim in a crushing embrace. Likely very relieved that Tim didn't die, and knowing Tim is harder to break than Jon with his delicate bones and fragility following many incidents.

Jon... doesn't really know what he's trying to accomplish. Just... get out? Or go in? Or get to the cot? Or just curl up on the cold tile of the basement toilets? Get away from people he will inevitably worry?

Just go somewhere where he can fall apart without taking anyone else down with him.

It looks like Martin has been crying. Jon hopes it isn't over him.

Tim needs to recover from the emotional toll of the last few days without having to pick up the pieces after Jon Again.

Jon slowly backs away.

His head is swimming, but that's okay. If he can just reach the Archives. The cot. Anywhere. Anywhere away from this moment. This breath.

His vision swims violently, and there is no doubt in his mind that he is going to be very well acquainted with the pavement in a matter of seconds. Either that or he's going to be ill? No. Sidewalk. He's going to eat the sidewalk. Heh... first thing he'll have eaten in days.

He isn't sure if he loses consciousness or not. It's hard to tell in the blur of motion and sounds and his spinning head. Sound is almost gooey in this state of almost unconsciousness, but he thinks someone might be shouting. Or several someones. He should maybe worry about this? But in actuality, he is praying he properly passes out to save himself any more embarrassment and save himself from his unsteady insides.

His face hurts.

Someone is holding him.

Jon fights to open his eyes. They don't seem to want to look in the same direction, rolling in their sockets instead of doing what he wants them to. He blinks hard a few times, failing to bring things into focus. Glasses? Does he still have those? Did they break? No... still there. Skewed on his face. Just... too dizzy to see, then.

Daisy and Basira are glaring at him. Melanie is walking away. Possibly. Hard to tell when the world is tilting with unsteady regularity.

Jon closes his eyes again, pressing a groan against the nausea that threatens to overcome him, despite the medicine.

"Jon?"

"Burning up."

He's too hazy to put a name to a voice. The words dripping in the air around him, tightening around his chest, silly string sitting on his skin in fibrous heaps that jiggle uncomfortably, cold and clammy.

Shit, thinking in gibberish. That can't be good.

“Does anyone know how long he’s been ill?”

Someone grunts.

Footsteps. Two sets? I’m asking away. Leaving him.

“I.... I don’t know. I don’t think he was feverish last night? But... I haven’t exactly been... It’s. It’s been hard.”

“Jon?”

He’s being jostled. He whines. Stomach flopping dangerously.

"Jon? Are you awake? Can you open your eyes for me?"

"Oh shit, he's gonna puke."

He's being lifted, shifted on his side, bin shoved in his hands. Where he throws up more nothing.

He's crying now, feeling like utter shit, and unfortunately more awake.

He isn't sure if eyes swimming with tears is better or worse than the unsteady world tipping around him and making him feel worse.

"Christ, Jon!"

He finally pries his eyes open. Martin and Tim solidify above him. More or less. Still fuzzing in and out of focus.

Now that he's crying, he just... can't stop. Fistfuls of Martin's sweater.

"Oh Jon..." Martin's arms circle him, carefully. Gentle not to jostle him more.

"Buddy. Think we can get you off the sidewalk?" Tim. Cupping his face. Smoothing back sweat and tear soaked hair, long since escaped his bun, still not dried from his earlier shower. "My flat isn't far, you know? Didn't bring my car here, though. Still... wasn't..."

Tim cuts himself off, but even addled as he is, Jon can fill in the rest of the sentence.

So can Martin apparently, because Martin frowns. It's never been more apparent that he's been crying quite recently. "Still weren't sure you were coming home... Tim..." And his eyes start looking damp.

Tim is tearing up now. "Martin... let's not in the street... I can carry Jon back to mine, it isn't far. You can come too. We'll get some take out. Drink some whiskey. Get Mr. Smoking hot cooled off. We can talk then. It's.... it's been a rough week."

"Jon? Can I carry you? I think that might be less rough than a cab ride? Do you need a few minutes?"

Martin's voice is soft, and Jon thinks he could sleep right there. In fact, he might. So he nods.

Martin lifts him carefully. His head swims again. This all is feeling rather familiar. Jon takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He tries to relax despite the lingering anxieties about heights. Martin feels safe. Tim is also safe now. He lets himself drift.

He wakes briefly on the trip.

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?" Tim. Tim seems off. Too many things crossing his face to parse out, probably even for someone with a better sense than Jon of what those subtle face changes mean. But Jon is too hazy to think.

Jon's mouth feels gummed up. His eyes feel gummed up.

He's thankful his mouth doesn't taste like something died in it, though. Although he is very aware how unhealthy it was that he's spent a good portion of the day with his body trying to turn itself inside out, and he couldn't so much as produce bile.

Jon feels sick thinking about it, so stops. He drifts again.

He wakes to a damp rag on his forehead, no memory of anything past the explosion.

How did he get here?

"Sorry, that looked like a nice sleep, but you'll feel better with some medicine in you, and some water. We can try some tea later, once the meds work. And some food hopefully."

Martin helping him sit up. Just enough to get a few sips and some pills into Jon. Which, Jon thought was probably optimistic, but he'd try it for Martin.

"When was the last time you ate?" Martin again.

Jon blinks at him in confusion. "Is it over?"

"Is what over?" Still Martin.

Where's Tim? Where's Daisy? Where's Basira? Where's Melanie?

His breathing picks up, and that makes his head spin again, and makes him wonder just how long he can keep the medicine down.

"Is it over, what happened?" He's panting now, halfway to a panic attack.

"Jon? Jon! Calm down. Can you take a breath for me?"

How did he get here? Where is he? This looks like Tim's flat, but there is Tim? Did he survive.

Jon reaches for anything. But comes up blank.

"Where's Tim? What happened?" He gasps out. It feels like his ribcage is shrinking, being laced up the front. fighter than the corset he had worn in acting class in uni.

"Tim's... taking a moment. As soon as we got you here... he.... it's been rough on him, you know? He did all this for... and I know he said he wanted to live. He wants to live... but he's... not been in a good place and it's helped that you two are talking again... and that he's had company more... but he saw an old picture with.... with his brother.... and that polaroid with ... with Sasha. Well, he keeps going between you know tearful and sorry and cackling about how everything blew up. It's... probably a lot to have three revenge schemes going at once for the same.... not a person really... but ... Her. And then... having it sorted. But... Listen Jon I don't know. What don't you remember... or what's the last thing you remember?" Martin edges on histerical near the middle, but takes a turn for the sad near the end.

"I remember the... the world was all wrong. Then... then it blew up. Is it over? Martin are you real. Is everyone alive? What happened to you?" He's desperate. Desperate breaths too shallow. Words interrupted by jagged pulling of too thin oxygen. He's going to pass out.

He does.

He wakes feeling... clearer. The last period of wakefulness a distant and flighty thing, dancing just out of his reach. The rest of the embarrassing day back in vivid detail. Tim's sitting over him. Or rather, curled around him. Jon's hair is being played with. A stray curl looped around Tim's finger as he laughs softly to himself. Muttering that he's alive. That Jon's alive. That Martin is alive. he didn't lose anyone else. That that clown is finally dead. Finally.

Gentle and warm hand on his face, refreshing the cloth. Checking his temperature.

"I..." Tim chokes on a sob. And Jon tries to remember how his arms work so he can let Tim know he's there.

"Tim?"

"Hey bud... sorry." Tim wipes his eyes on his sleeve. "It's been a hell of a week. I... don't know how to feel about it. Fuck I need a drink.... And to check in with Martin. I... he hasn't told me what happened, but he's upset. And. Fuck I should have noticed you were ill, why didn't you say anything?" Tim's voice starts to rise, and Jon tenses. All the times Tim yelled at him still too fresh in his mind. He trusts Tim. he does... but Christ he is still afraid. Afraid that it can't last, that it isn't real. Where it be a trick of his mind, or some manipulation tactic to an end Jon can't see, he doesn't know.

"Hey. Hey. Buddy... Jon. I'm sorry. didn't mean to yell. It's just... been a day. I'm not mad at you. I just... I'm worried about you and Martin and I...I don't know how to feel about everything that happened. I'm sorry you feel like shit."

Jon feels... like shit. Marginally less nauseous, however. A little less like he's going to pass out again. Probably been given plenty of pills by Martin.

"Sorry." He croaks. Voice probably shredded with smoke. And fever.

"He, bud, don't apologize. I'm sorry I didn't notice you weren't well. I... I thought I knew better than to be that preoccupied. I mean... I guess I didn't make it worse this time, but..." Tim sighs. "I'm disappointed in myself because I don't want to fuck this up again. And no don't apologize again part of that was on me and yes part of that was on you and we've done apologies to death. All we can do now is keep going. I just wanted to protect you and I couldn't see you were fading in front of my eyes. Again. I know you haven't been eating or sleeping, but I haven't been either so I didn't want to call you on it, and I didn't want you to call me on it, but I should have noticed. I know I couldn't have done much, but I didn't do anything but shut you out again. I could have told someone to stop to get you medicine, or food or even a bit more rest. I know that would have done fuck-all, but I still could have offered you a little comfort and warmth and had us brought straight back here."

Tim's crying properly now. Jon is too. Not sure if it is the fever, or just... everything. There is so much to feel and think and worry about and yes they saved the world but that the fuck comes next.

What comes next is that Martin enters with tea for Jon and a bottle of whiskey.

Jon scrubs at his eyes. "Martin what happened?" Jon can see he's been crying again. That is starting to scare him. It's a goddamn miracle he hasn't pulled an answer out of anyone yet today.

"It's... well it isn't fine. I... well our plan worked here too. Just... you know... Elias. He can.... He can do things. It's fine. It's worth it." Martin swipes at his eyes furiously.

Jon pushes himself up, ignoring the room tilting around him, and hugs Martin. Jon's still crying. Martin sniffling. Tim also crying. It's... a very damp hug. And Jon knows he's too warm to be comfortable to hold, and he's shivering hard enough to rattle Tim and Martin.

"I'm... I'm so sorry Martin." Jon chokes out.

"It's alright. It was worth it. And you both. Christ I am so glad to see you again... I thought... I thought.... I didn't..." Martin is fully sobbing now. Tea set down on Tim's bedside table, the whiskey being pried from his hands by TIm.

Late that night the bottle is empty (and so are a couple more), Tim and Martin have killer headaches, and Jon is still feverish, but less so. A lot of tears have been shed. And Jon has been plied with enough liquids that he feels a little less like a crumbling husk.

By the time that Tim and Martin are ready to think about food, Jon is finally feeling like he can maybe stomach something. They order takeout. Jon... has some broth.

By morning Jon manages a few bites of leftovers.

By afternoon, Elias Bushard is arrested.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnuspod #fic #sickfic #cw nausea #cw vomit #cw vomiting #cw emeto #cw fainting #cw food #cw fever #fever #cw alcohol #my writing #my words #my art #my fic

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whiskery-louis · 4 years ago

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Priorities *part 2*

I am so sorry for the delay but I was on vacation and just had a very few busy days! Here is part 2 of Priorities, I am planning a part 3 for sure possibly a part 4! Please please let me know what you think!

part 1

“We came backstage and you were just gone. One text saying you needed a break? That’s all we were worth to you? Is that all I was worth to you Y/N? I thought we could be something, but you never gave me a chance. You just bailed. And now we show up after all this time and you have a kid? I can’t believe it. I just-I just need to know. Am I the dad?”

“Wait what?” I stared at him in disbelief, trying to stifle a laugh because of how serious he was.

“Don’t laugh at me Y/N I’m serious. Unless you were fucking other guys it’s obvious why you left. You got pregnant, and you got scared so you ran. I just don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me. It's not just your life that was affected.”

I took a step towards him and he didn’t pull back. I reached out and pulled his hands into mine.

“Luke, I’m not laughing at you. I can see how serious you are, but the baby isn’t mine.”

“It’s not?” I turned to see Calum, Mikey and Ashton standing between the kitchen and the front room.

“We didn’t mean to listen, but you guys were right there and there is no door…” Ash trailed off.

I sighed knowing it was finally time to tell them the truth. I gestured for them all to sit around the dining table as I grabbed the glasses Luke left by the sink. I left the boys, chose what they wanted to drink and grabbed a few snacks out of the pantry in case anyone was hungry. Just as I was about to sit down the baby started crying. I sighed looking at the boys.

“Give me a few minutes to get him up and then I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

Luke

I couldn’t believe that after all this time I was here sitting in her house. It was a nice house, but it was still weird to think of Y/N spending all her time here raising a baby. There were baby toys all over the place, a pile of clothes overflowing from the laundry room around the corner and baby bottles stacked next to the sink. As I looked around though, there were still little pieces that showed she lived here too. Her worn out vans lay just inside the door, half empty water bottles gathered on the island, blankets covering every inch of the couch. They were all things that unmistakingly said Y/N.

I never believed her excuse of needing a break from touring, she loved everything about being on the road. And selfishly I thought she enjoyed spending time with me. I don’t know when things changed between us, but one night we were drinking with the rest of the boys and I was walking her back to her room and the next morning I woke up next to her. We promised to keep it casual but after a few weeks of hooking up she started spending the nights in my room; we talked about everything during those early morning hours and it was then that I realized she was someone special. I knew that I wanted us to be more and I was planning on taking her out on the town after our New York show, but we stepped off the stage and she was gone.

I was devastated, and the boys did what they could to cheer me up but they had all sensed a change in me the months prior. So when Calum suggested we pay Y/N a visit with our week off I jumped at the chance to figure out why she really left. We were all curious as to her reason for leaving, she used to talk about nothing but being on the road and all the things she planned to do when the tour ended. And not once did she mention settling down. It was bizarre when we found out she had bought a house in a small neighborhood outside the city. During our late night talks she always said that she couldn't fall asleep without the sounds of the city right outside her window.

“So if it’s not her kid, what is going on here?” Michael broke the silence, looking around the table before settling his eyes on me. I looked up and realized all three of them were staring at me.

“What?” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable under their gaze.

“You knew her best Luke, did she ever mention anything?” Cal asked.

“You think I wouldn’t have told you guys? I’m as shocked as all of you.”

It was silent again as we all sat with our thoughts waiting for Y/N to come back out. When she opened that door yelling about waking up a baby my heart stopped. Out of all the scenarios that ran through my head the last six months I never thought Y/N had a baby. My heart dropped to my stomach and I couldn’t believe that she would leave and not tell me about something as big as a baby. But now she’s saying it’s not hers? I’ve never been more confused and craving answers. My anxiety was through the roof, I couldn't stop bouncing my knee and chewing at my already chipped red nail polish.

“Luke you can relax,” Ashton broke the silence. “She said the baby’s not her, which means it's not yours.”

“I know,” I sighed, “It all just made sense when I thought she left because she had a baby. I just need to know the truth.”

Reader POV

“Okay it’s gonna be okay buddy.” I sighed as I was changing him. “There are some friends downstairs waiting to meet you. And I know you don’t understand what I’m saying but I feel like I am going to lose my mind if I don’t get this off my chest. I’ve run over this scenario so many times little buddy but I did not expect this when we woke up this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy you get to finally meet your super cool uncles.” He laughed up at me as I tickled his stomach before I pulled his clean shirt over his head. “And ya know Luke is still just as handsome as I remember.”

I quietly made my way down the hallway to see if I could overhear the boys talking. I was curious as to what they thought the explanation was going to be. I could hear mumbling but nothing concrete. I took a deep breath as I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. I pulled the high chair up to the table and put the baby in it with some cut up bananas to eat. I sat down next to him and turned to the boys.

There was an awkward silence as they all stared at me waiting for an explanation. I took a second to take this all in, not believing that they were all sitting in my kitchen.

“Well boys...this is my nephew Wesley.” I ruffled my hand through his hair. “My sister gave birth to him about a year ago and then she just up and left six months ago. He had no one else to raise him so I had to come back for him. I’m the only family he has.”

All four of the boys looked from Wes back to me. I could see the surprise on their faces, Ashtons’ jaw was even hanging open. Luke was the one who spoke first.

“You never told us about your sister.”

A small frown formed on my face, “We were never close. Heather is a few years older than me and was never around when I was younger. She always fought with my mom and when she turned 16 she left home. She didn’t even come back for my mom's funeral. I never really forgave her for that, but when she reached out to me about a year ago telling me she had just given birth I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Mostly because I missed having a family and I had always wanted to be an auntie.”

“Weren’t we family enough?” Luke interrupted me.

I glanced from him to the rest of the boys and saw the hurt etched across their faces, making my regret my choice of words.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you guys were the family I always wished for when I was younger. And even though she abandoned me just like our dad abandoned us, she was still my sister. I was so excited when I found out I was an aunt as well, Heather and I were talking again and how could I not want to be in this guy's life? I mean just look at him.” I smiled as I looked over at Wes who was still enjoying his bananas.

“Where is your sister now?” Cal asked.

I sighed, “I don’t know. Six months after she gave birth she left, just like our dad did to us and I just, I just couldn’t let him fall into the system. I’m all he has. I never wanted to leave you,” my eyes met Luke’s, “...guys or the tour, let alone without telling anyone but I knew if you guys knew about Wes you would try and convince me to bring him on the road, and I would’ve stayed because that’s all I wanted to do. But it’s not about me anymore, I have to do what is best for Wesley and he deserves to have a normal childhood. Well as normal as I can give him seeing as I’m not his mother. I’m sorry for how I left, but I’m not sorry that I left.”

It was silent when I stopped talking, I looked around the table to see all the boys processing what I had told them. I knew it was a shock finding me here raising a baby that wasn’t mine but I was glad that I finally told them the reason behind me leaving.

Wes started fussing now that he finished his snack, I turned to pick him up but Michael was already jumping out of his seat.

“Let his cool Uncles play with him Y/N,” he picked Wes up out of his highchair, tickling his stomach and making him giggle. Michael laughed too as he carried him into the living room. Calum and Ashton stood up to follow him.

“I’m gonna be his favorite ya know,” Cal winked at me as they left.

“We’re just glad you’re okay Y/N, anything we can do to help we will. For now the three of us will keep him busy while you two take some necessary time to talk.” Ashton gave a small smile to me and Luke who were left sitting at the table.

I turned to Luke who was sitting with his head in his hands. I placed my hand on his forearm causing him to look up at me. “Let’s go outside okay?”

He nodded his head, a slight smile on his lips as he took my outstretched hand and followed me as I led him out to the small patio off the kitchen. He made sure to close the door tight knowing the boys would eavesdrop if possible. I pulled him down on the small couch next to me. I had so many things I wanted to say to him but I owed him enough to start the conversation. His hand remained in mine as we sat in silence, I lightly traced the tattoos on his wrists. He hummed slightly causing me to look up and see him smiling at me.

“I miss that feeling, your fingers tracing patterns all over me. It’s like you leave a trail of fire every time you touch me.” I felt my face flush, I looked back down and began drawing circles on the back of his hands. “I’ve missed you so fucking much Y/N, I thought you left because of something I did. I know we always said we would keep it casual but fuck I haven’t been the same since you left.”

“Fuck Luke I didn’t know you felt that way. You did nothing wrong. I just couldn’t bear to say goodbye to you in person. I felt the same way about you when I left, I didn’t want to keep being casual I wanted to be yours-”

Luke pressed his lips to mine, cutting me off mid sentence. I melted into him like no time had passed. I forgot how it felt to kiss him, it was a drug I couldn’t get enough of. I moved my hands to the back of his neck and pulled him closer to me. His hands went to my waist and the next thing I knew I was sitting on his lap. I pulled back and rested my forehead against his.

“I missed you Y/N, so fucking much.”

“I missed you too Luke, a lot. But you need to know we can’t just go back to how things were. I need to put Wes first and you have the band.”

“But you just said you wanted to be mine,” he looked at me with a mixture of hope and sadness in his eyes. This was exactly why I couldn’t say goodbye in person.

“Key word being wanted. My whole life is different now Luke, I’m not the same person that I was six months ago.”

“So what are we supposed to do?”

I climbed off Luke and reached out my hand, “We go hang out with Wes so he can get to know his Uncle Luke. And then you go back on tour, I stay here and raise Wes and you visit every once in a while with the boys. It's not ideal but at least we’ll still see each other every so often. I’m sorry Luke, but it’s just how it has to be.”

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meowdymista · 3 years ago

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For my first RDR2 event, I was paired with @sunspott / @polybigbang. Their art was for a playlist on spotify called Going’s All We Know, and I’ve tried to incorporate the mood of the playlist into my first impression of the art.

You can read my submission on AO3 or follow through with the read more :)

Still No Rest

Feet are itching again, plus it ain't like we can stick around much longer. Going is all we know, even if we ain't got nowhere else left.

Things had been too steady of late. They had been too safe, had slipped away far too easily, had pulled moneybags out of places that should have fought back but hadn't even batted an eye.

Arthur pushes back his hair, greasy and long, off his brow. The clouds above are smoky and dark - a storm, just as anticipated.

Maybe he jumped a little too far too fast today. Maybe if he hadn't been so on edge waiting for something to go wrong, they could have deescalated the situation. Maybe lives could have been spared, but it’s not like the guilt isn’t scratching the ridges of his brain like a dusty gramophone needle.

What makes you any different? You who's always scraping for a scrap of some sort. Them trying to do the right thing and crossing your path to do it. Better you than them, right? Like Daddy always said, if they didn’t want to die they should mind their own business.

A new start: isn't that what they had promised themselves? A new state, a new town, a new camp: a clean slate that he had managed to bloody in a record three days.

Every bullet that screamed past his ear left his bones ringing with that too familiar dull tired ache. Every blade that snagged his clothes instead of his skin embittered him. The tiniest of voices hummed with the thought that maybe, maybe, he should fight that craving for carelessness and even tell someone about it… but the beast he’s become scowls and reminds him with a low growl that then they would stop him. They would take him off the front line, teach the gangly adolescent John - who is a far worse shot - to replace him.

It's not even jealousy really, he reasons as he slips his journal away and stretches into a stand. They need him. Need his gun, his eye, his blade. Worrying them isn’t an option, especially right now. He doesn’t need to make them doubt his reliability, or question whether they’ve misplaced their trust. He knew in his heart that if anyone in the gang confessed the same, he would refuse their gun, even if he needed it - and afterwards? In the weeks, months, years to come? He would always pick someone else. Someone less vulnerable. Someone he never doubted or needed to protect.

Which is how he ended up going out with the feller Dutch had picked up when they were up North. He’s had a few too many close shaves under Hosea’s watchful eye of late as he struggled to conceal the beast's rearing head. The old man was onto him, his brown eyes still boring into him, even after Copper found his way to him.

Bill, on the other hand, is always game for a ruckus. He has as much of a temper as he does, and can match him drink for drink. Some of the stories he lets slip prickle him - like the beast recognising a party equal, a fellow host. He says nothing. Doesn't validate them, doesn't acknowledge them or aim to empathise, he just accepts the added weight of tar and grudges home with another bottle.

“Arthur?”

"M'tired," grunts Arthur, walking past Hosea, boots scuffing the dry red earth beneath them. “Besides, you know how it is. Sometimes bullets fly no matter what you do.”

Hosea doesn’t dignify his excuse with a response, and despite the poker face, Arthur can feel the guilt twist a little tighter in his gut as he sets about washing his arms and face in the barrel by the food reserves. He knows nothing good would come from trying to explain the truth of the situation... How a glimpse of a little boy in his peripherals is as sure a sign of upcoming thunder as lightning flashing in the distance. His not-brown-not-blond tussle of hair brushing the wind with fat drops of rain… rain that never came, leaving Arthur to water the ground with blood, like somehow it could make him feel less like he’s drowning in the driest desert outside of New Mexico.

He pats his pockets for the cigarette he had rolled earlier, until, retracing his steps mentally, he sighs in disappointment. He had been about to light it when it all kicked off. Or rather… it had been in his mouth whilst he tried to align yet another match to the tobacco when he had caught the eye of another patron and decided to swap the nicotine for some adrenaline.

His fondness for Bill always grew at moments like this. Bastard heard one cross word and his guns were out before he found his balance.

Deflated, he uncaps a beer instead, emptying it, tossing it aside and grabbing another, before spotting the girl devouring a bowl of stew a stone's throw away.

"Who's she?" he asks before Hosea can try to raise the day’s events.

"Your new ward."

Arthur stops, scoffing, growing angry when the elder doesn’t back down. "Nuh uh! No way! I just got rid of Johnny! Get Williamson to do it!"

"You'd trust him with her?"

"Sure! Why not?" He glances back at the girl despite himself. His index finger is itching again. "Or get Marston on it. Ain't like he's doing much else."

"John is still learning how to take care of himself, and Bill…"

"He ain't gonna beat up a little girl." Restless, his feet shuffle beneath him, his beer swapping hands before touching his lips again. "And ain't like he's gonna have interest in her."

"You think he wouldn't do it just to prove a point?" Their eyes meet briefly before Arthur's gaze drops. "People who are insecure are far more dangerous than those comfortable in themselves, never forget that Arthur. Besides, I'd rather not expose her to the prejudices she can get any day of the week. She ought to feel safe here, don't you think?"

He finishes the dregs and tosses the bottle, preferring to change the subject than admit he’s right. "Where’d she come from? She got any family?"

"She left her cousin back east. Came this way looking for her mother but she’d passed meanwhile."

"So… what’s the plan? We taking her back east?"

"Sure as shit you ain't!"

The girl has stepped around the table, legs planted apart, hands folded across her flat chest, her hair as free and untamed as her temperament. She is glaring something fierce, making the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in a fight or flight instinct.

Hosea chuckles softly, eyes bright with pride. "I reckon she's one of us now."

"Well, does she have a name?" asks Arthur, incredulous.

"Jackson." She jerks her heart shaped face in a defensive greeting. "My name is Tilly Jackson."

"Well, Miss Tilly Jackson, you always so fierce?" He stalks the couple of steps to the nearest crate of whiskey and pulls one free.

"You always this stupid?"

"Hey now, Miss Jackson," interrupts Hosea before Arthur can bark. "We don't talk to each other like that here."

"He started it!"

"And you’re sitting with Mrs Matthews when you’re done so she can keep an eye on you!” He ushers her towards Bessie to keep her out of harm's way before turning back to his first product of adoption with a raised brow.

"You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

"Try coming back just half soaked some time. Might make them go easier on you."

Arthur scoffs, his rebuttal dying in his throat. He dampens the ash with another swig.

"I want you to take her with you when you go out."

His scoff is solid. "No way."

Hosea straightens up, watching him, using his body language to ask the questions.

"I ain't taking her out. You want her shot?"

"You intend to shoot her?"

"No, course not-"

"Then what's the problem?"

Arthur's eyes roll in exasperation, his finger flexing around the neck of the bottle like it's a button that will win the argument if he squeezes tight enough. "The problem is other people shooting at us."

"You intend to get shot at?"

"No, but-"

"Then I see no problem."

"That don't mean we ain't gonna get shot at!"

"Why would you get shot at?"

'Cause that's what I set out to do most days, he wants to counter. And if I ain't likely to get shot, I'm likely in jail or black out drunk in a saloon someplace.

Instead he closes his mouth, any excuse dead before it passes his lips.

"I'm not asking you to take her with you to rob a bank, Arthur." Hosea's tone is firm but still soft - a talent of his. "But while you're out looking for leads, or even looting a homestead or something… She's nifty."

"Hosea, I-" He trails off, distracted by the clip of notes Hosea is picking through, and downright thrown when he passes him the thinned out clip. "What's this for? I gettin' paid to be a nanny now?"

“This-” Hosea holds up a couple of notes before putting them in his pocket. “-is for arguing with me. This is for the box, as it seems you’ve forgotten to pay the camp's share, and this-" He casually holds out the last few dollars to the side like he’s ashing a cigarette. A small brown hand slips it away as both Hosea and little Miss Tilly regard him smugly. "Is for a mark well scammed."

"You mean-?" He checks his pockets, ears growing hot. "You son of a-"

“Ah-ah! Language!” Dutch swaggers up with a smirk like he has been watching the introduction unfold in its entirety. “C’mon, Arthur, you have to give it to her. She’s talented!”

“Might finally have picked up a smart one, eh, Dutch?” winks Hosea. Arthur scowls and turns on his heel, leaving them laughing and praising their newest addition.

****

Arthur remains cool and calm the next few days, hunting local and sticking close to camp. Every time he approaches his horse, the little girl is waiting, watching him with her fierce brown eyes.

"Where we goin', Mr Arthur?" She asks as soon as he's within earshot. "Do I need anything bringing?"

Every time he offers to pay double what Hosea has offered her, and every time she refuses to discuss the terms of their negotiation. Every time he curses everything under his breath, keeping his language savoury for the child nearby. Every time he scowls, and every time he gives her a grunt of "naw, we ain't going far" before mounting up and lifting her onto the rear.

"I can ride myself, ya know?" She shoots one morning as Arthur leads his stead into a trot away from camp, heading towards the softer, greener terrain that’s barely visible on the horizon. "Properly. Not side saddle."

"Good for you."

"If I had a horse I would show you."

"And run off with the money we got, huh."

She bristles. "I ain't no snitch."

"Sounds like somethin' a snitch would say." He pops the cork from a half full bottle of rum and takes a swig. Replacing the bottle, he notices her scrunching her nose in disdain. “Got a problem? I can take you back to camp.”

“You sure don’t drink much water,” she comments drily. “You ain’t worried ‘bout heatstroke out here?”

“Liquor’s hydrating,” he scowls, pushing the horse into a canter.

“Pretty sure it ain’t, but you do you. Besides, I got dibs on your things. We all gotta start somewhere, right?”

Arthur snorts angrily, adrenaline prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. “You sure as hell do not, princess. I ain’t going nowhere!”

Miss Jackson hums sarcastically. “Sure you ain’t. You don’t eat, don’t drink anything under forty proof, don’t talk to no one-”

“If you don’t like it, I can drop you right here!”

“Go ahead.” Her tone is defiant, but it doesn’t escape his notice that she grips his sides a little tighter. “Mr Matthews was pretty explicit about what he’d do to you if you tried.”

He stews the next mile or more, not speaking up until he finally dismounts for a break at the change of terrain.

Wide open spaces always helped to ground him, even though it could make vanishing into thin air difficult. To some extent, it forced him to not be so careless. In others, it made it easier to kid himself that he had never crossed the threshold into civilisation, let alone crossed a kind faced waitress.

Listening out for creeping cougars and restless rattlesnakes, he crouches down by the water’s side and splashes his face, washing off the worst of the sweat and dust that’s caked itself into every pore available. The girl makes no move to dismount, so he takes it upon himself to refill her canteen as a gesture of goodwill.

“You don’t got to stick to us, you know.” She turns her big brown eyes from the sky onto Arthur’s face. He shuffles his feet awkwardly, focusing his attention on brushing out the biggest clumps of dust from the horse’s mane before they continue. “If you need me to take you somewhere-”

“And what’s a girl to do then? Hit the road with a couple dollars?” She fixes him with a look that is too old for her face. “Naw, I think I’ll stay with youse a little longer.”

“That’s alright, but we’re gonna have to be moving on real soon.” He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore the unspoken reminder that it’s because of him and his actions. “It ain’t like we can promise to be back up this way any time in the near future. If you change your mind-”

“I won’t change my mind about them, Mr Morgan.” She shivers in a breeze that only seems to touch her. “No, sir. They had me bound real good for real long, but I don’t need ‘em. I won my freedom, Mr Morgan, an’ I ain’t going back.”

He risks a glance, curiosity getting the better of him. Her eyes are sparkling as bright as the water's surface, but her jaw is clenched tight. He debates riding further, doing what he can to get them set up at the fishing spot Hosea had heard about as they moved through the state to their current set up, but the child looked too old. Too tired. Too existentially exhausted.

Plus, when you get low enough, it's like some things will follow wherever you go.

“Let’s stop here a while.”

As predicted, Miss Jackson double takes. “Don’t you want to get to where we’re headed?”

Arthur shrugs. “Ain’t like there ain’t food to be foraged here. Nothing to come raising any hell or bother us into raising it for them. Reckon this spot’s as good as any.”

He turns his back to her as she dismounts warily, focusing his energy on starting a small campfire they can add to.

"I ain't goin' anywhere if you wanna swim." He grimaces as his words come out gruffer than intended. "I got clean clothes in the saddle bags here if you want 'em for the trip back or to swim in even. Can't imagine that skirt is the lightest when it gets wet."

"You ain't wrong, Mr Arthur, sir. Thank you for the offer but I think I'm just gonna stick to paddling for now."

"Sure."

It's not his first choice. This land is a little too dry for his liking, but that's what comes with being so close to the desert. Money means nothing to nature, besides she provides everything and more than what shops and butchers supply. Who needs civilisation when there's the wilds to retreat into? When there is wild carrots and rhubarb aplenty, fresh meat, shelter, all for the low cost of taking what you need as you need it?

The fire started, he sets out to look for fuel and food. Crouching down to check dung and disturbances in the foliage, he finds the damage is minimal. He swears again, taking a swig of whiskey from his satchel.

He doesn't really remember a time he didn't drink, but he knows this is different. He knows this isn't a choice on his behalf. The demon demands fuel as a child demands milk, and like the fool he is, he provides without much hesitation. Anything for a glimmer of peace from the screaming child in his mind.

He scoffs at himself and straightens up, looking around on the off chance some animal is dumb enough to be caught out in the open - and as luck would have it, a pronghorn buck is grazing a stones throw away.

He inhales deeply, taking aim with newfound focus, and fires.

The pronghorn bolts, but it's no contest for the bullet soaring his way. A mournful cry bleats through the undergrowth as it flees. He follows, as loud as he likes given the rip of the shot would have blasted a warning to anything within earshot. Breaking through a wall of cacti, he spots Miss Tilly aghast in the shallows as the buck splashes into the lake he had washed up in on their arrival.

He keeps going, realising the buck is heading for a wet escape. Shedding his guns as he runs, he wades in after it, shouting.

The buck is swimming in deep water, leaving behind a trail of blood behind with every baleful bleat, leaving Arthur with no option besides taking a spur of the moment swim or going home with an empty stomach.

"C'mere!" he cries, breaking into breaststroke. The buck is slowing, every cry growing more lamenting and mournful. "Stop! I can make it stop, just come a little closer."

It's crying weakly by the time he manages to reach it. He throws an arm over its neck and fumbles for his hunting knife, but the blood proves too thick and one small fumble sends it disappearing into the depths.

"C'mon," he grunts, tugging the wounded animal with him as he kicks his way towards shore. "You ain't gonna get any lighter."

He struggles towards shore, gasping assurances every chance he gets. When his boots finally scrape the bottom, he whistles for his mount with the last of the air in his lungs.

He finally releases the animal, using both hands to search for a knife or a pistol - something to end its suffering quickly. Drowning the thing felt too callous, too slow, too-

"Will this be enough?"

Arthur, still gasping for breath, hair dripping into his blue eyes, pauses, surprised. A small hand is proferring a flip knife, her small face reflecting the distress of his own. Recovering, he nods quickly, thanking her as he takes the tool from her and advising her to look away and cover her ears. Obeying doesn’t lessen the heart wrenching last cry of the animal, but on opening her eyes again, she decides it is less painful than watching the poor thing struggle as it drowned.

Arthur is holding the animal, counting, as though held to some strange code to make sure it is dead before removing the tool of choice. He shakes the knife under the surface and folds it up, passing it back to her with a grunt of thanks. She takes it, still in shock at the unexpected show of violence.

He pushes the carcass out of the water, promising to be back soon before swimming back to where he caught the animal. Watching his head disappear under the surface, she is left with the silence of the cooling body nearby. It looks strangely peaceful staring off into the east.

Arthur swims back, pushing back the sodden mop of brown hair as he wades out with sopping boots and a shiny carving knife he must have dropped earlier. He advises her to leave him to it if she’s squeamish, and she refuses up until the animals guts plume onto the sand.

From a distance, she watches him carry them away from their makeshift camp, covering them up with some leaves and branches to disguise the worse of the mess but leave it readily available to the creatures due a feast. Returning to the body, he begins to carve with care, piling steaks onto canvas. He wastes as little as possible, even wrapping the exposed neck of the head in canvas before tying it onto the horse. He turns to the water, notices her watching and walks over.

“Reckon we’re almost done here,” he calls as he gets close enough. “Just gonna wash up and we can get going.”

“You always butcher your kill before going back?” she asks.

He huffs, a twinkle in his eye. “Sure, when I don’t plan on walking back. Figured you’d rather hitch a ride than straddle a dead deer.”

She shudders, making him laugh as he kicks off his boots and setting them aside to dry from earlier. He doesn’t remove his clothes, just pulls a bar of soap from the saddlebags and asks if she minds if he doesn’t dry off. She herself finally admits internally that she feels grubby. She had washed and washed and washed, and eventually came to accept the grime was not going to wash off her. Too much dirt, too ingrained, too repeated to ever shed properly…

She follows him, still keeping her distance. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything, just keeps scrubbing suds under his nails, over his forearms, into every fibre of his shirt. When she finally feels brave enough to speak up, she takes a deep breath, and on a whim decides to splash him.

He turns around, frowning, before picking up on the giggles and grinning himself. His arms are stronger, thicker, longer - the retaliation engulfs her with a responding tidal wave that leaves her gasping for air. In the small glimpse she makes of him, she notes the guilt and the apology on his lips as he believes himself having gone too far, but she’s too quick. She pushes him in the chest and tries to swim away as quick as she can, squealing the whole way.

Their laughter disturbs the birds in the branches, and they take flight, not that either of them notice. They play until the sun lowers to kiss the leaves around them. They share the bar of soap, and Tilly takes refuge in his disinterest. He lets her wash. She lets him wash. Both of them keep their distance when appropriate.

“Perhaps we oughta ride back in the morning,” Arthur muses when he notices how much she is shivering. "It's only gonna get colder, and at least we've got a fire going here."

“I don’t mind making the ride.”

He chuckles, eyes soft. “Miss Tilly. You’re dead on your feet, and sure as hell will be dead in the saddle. I can fall asleep just about anywhere if you’re alright with the tent and bedroll? Hell, it’d make a nice change to waking up to Susan and Dutch arguing, huh?”

“You ain’t wrong...” She is still hesitating. Arthur tried to shake the thought of what she must have been through and instead tells himself that it's standard practice to be wary of new folk. She could feel safe in camp because there were more people to keep tabs on one another. Out here, it was just him, her and the stars, and since when did the stars ever do anything to help?

“Listen. Choice is yours. I’ll ride through the night if that’s what you want, but I promise you’re safe with me.” He checks the barrel of his revolver, counting the six bullets nestled inside before snapping it in place and holding it out by the barrel. “Here. I can’t give you both in case we get jumped, but I’ll stow the long arms on Wyn if that makes it easier.”

She sits in silence for a long while before nodding slowly.

“Alright then. You get to eating your fill while I set you up for the night.”

*****

She wakes up, well rested and warm. She takes a few minutes to lay there, watching the shadows of the flies buzzing on the canvas above before finally crawling out in search of fresh air.

Owain is grazing not so far away, but Arthur is nowhere to be seen. His long arms are still stashed, the fire just ash now. Panic rises in her throat, torn between the fear of him being jumped and him abandoning her willingly.

She frets, pacing, checking their reserves. No, she has no clue where the hell he has taken her so she doesn’t know where to even start on trying to return to Mr Matthews and Mr Van der Linde. She curses him for being so spoilt as to be threatened by a little girl.

“Mornin’, Miss Jackson.” She flinches, immediately retreating from the greeting. Arthur is frowning under the brim of his hat as he dismounts the small bay coloured horse. “Everythin’ alright?”

“I thought you left me,” she admits, still choked up. He seems surprised, then bashful, trying to hide it by patting the neck of the horse he has with him.

“Naw. There was a herd moving through here early this morning and I remembered about you wantin’ a horse of your own.” He gives her an awkward nod. “Whaddaya reckon? She rides pretty nice. One of the smaller one, but she seems friendly enough. If you wanna keep her, I’ll set you up on mine until we can get this one broke in properly if tha’s alright?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome.” He begins to pack their things away, tacking Owain and bribing both steads with sugar cubes.

“We going hunting again?”

Arthur puts away the brush and pats his horse’s neck. “Naw. Today we’re headed to Greyhound Station.”

“Why?”

“Boring stuff. Check to see if anyone’s tried to write us. Check for bounties and that we ain’t most of ‘em. See if there’s any jobs goin’, keep an ear to the ground in case there’s money to be had. You know, standard outlaw stuff.”

“I ain’t ever been on a wanted poster yet,” she muses. “That I know of anyhow. Knowing the Foreman Brothers, they’ll be tryin’ to frame me for something.”

“The Foreman Brothers?”

“The… gang. The ones I was with when Dutch and Hosea found me.” Arthur hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t press it. It’s like he knows it’s a big bruise still there after months of riding with them. “They was wrestlin’ to hang me or bury me alive. Never did find out which since I managed to wriggle off the wagon without them noticin’. So much for family.”

“Y’all were related?”

“Yeah.” She spits off the side. “Good riddance to ‘em.”

He hums. “If anybody tries to pull that with you again, you lemme know. I’ll get ‘em before they blink.” He rummages in his saddle bag and pulls out a glass bottle of clear liquid. She frowns as he takes a greedy few gulps before offering it to her.

“I ain’t much a fan of the bottle, Arthur.”

He throws her a look of befuddlement over his shoulder before understanding befalls him. “It weren’t my first choice, Miss Jackson, but I’ve yet to learn how best to store water if not in a bottle of some kind.”

“Water?”

“Water,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “Whiskey’s the other side if you want some.”

“I’m good for now, Mr Morgan,” she smiles, raising the bottle to her lips, squinting at the sunburned strip that’s the back of his neck. “Maybe some other time.”

#rdr2 reverse big bang #rdr2 #rdrbigbang #rdrreversebang2021 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fic #tilly jackson #arthur morgan #sunspott

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years ago

Text

four in the morning.

yunho x reader; strangers to lovers

word count: 11k

angst, fluff, smut

10:05 p.m.

you never wanted a public proposal. you had told your boyfriend every time you saw someone get down on one knee in times square on new year's eve or in front of cinderella's castle at disney world that you would absolutely die if he did that to you.

and maybe it speaks to your naivety, to your complete disregard of just how shitty he's treated you over these past five years, that you thought that would ever be a problem in your relationship. because he's the guy who ditches you for his friends and religiously forgets date night, who falls asleep right after extremely unsatisfying sex that has you faking orgasms, who doesn't answer your texts all day but freely like posts on instagram.

and evidently, he's also the guy who breaks up with his girlfriend in the middle of dinner.

because one second the waitress is putting down the dessert, a tiramisu cheesecake you were drooling just thinking about all night, and then the next, before she's even out of ears reach, he blurts out, "we should break up."

you don't even say anything at first, just stare blankly and shake your head because he didn't just that. he wouldn't say that. not today on this day and not right now in this setting.

"wh-what?"

but he doesn't miss a beat.

"i've been thinking about it for a while, y/n," he says to you, leaning on his hand like this whole conversation is about to be a bore. "i just...we've been together for so long and i'm really kind of...sick of it."

"you're... you're sick of it?" you squeak.

"well yeah, i mean it's been four years and i don't wanna lie and say i feel like i'm still in love with y-"

"five."

"what?" he asks, looking at you in pure and utter confusion and you don't know if you feel more heartbroken or angry at this very moment.

"five. we've been together for five years," you tell him, voice too calm and composed for how you're feeling inside. "in fact, today marks our fifth year together. but you didn't remember that, did you?"

you think you would've felt better if he showed some sort of regretful or guilty reaction, his mouth dropping open or face lighting up like the date sent off alarm bells in that stupid little head of his. but nothing. just a thoughtful nod, like you told him the food was good or you needed another drink.

"oh," he says with a small shrug, "well five years then, even longer than i thought. see, y/n, i'm just over it. i'm over this relationship and i'm over being someone's boyfriend."

"hm....hm," is all you hum because you refuse to make a warner and elle woods type of scene in this restaurant right now. but your burning throat and shaking hands want so badly to do something. to scream and curse at him or throw that cake right in his face or maybe even slap him for being so cold and harsh and detached.

"are you mad?"

a laugh bubbles out of your mouth now and anyone around can probably hear how unhinged it sounds, like you're a second away from having some sort of breakdown or bursting into tears and screaming.

"am i mad?" you ask, a cold edge finally seeping into your tone. "am i mad my boyfriend just broke up with me, in public, at our anniversary dinner? are you seriously fucking asking me that?" you grunt out the words through clenched teeth, lowering your voice when you let the profanity slip out.

"well...yeah," he says dopily, "i still care about you as a person. i just- don't wanna be in a relationship anymore. i kind of figured i was making it obvious these past few weeks."

"then why wouldn't you have just told me the second you had these thoughts!" you spit and now the volume of your voice is considerably louder. "why make me wait and then do it at this very moment!"

"i-i don't know, i didn't really know how or when was a good time to tell you."

"oh, well thank god you waited, this was truly ideal," you growl sarcastically.

and then, like he has any right to be offended or upset, he lets out a scoff. "look, i'm sorry but this is what i want....i'll still pay for dinner if that's what you're-"

"you think i give a single fuck if you pay for dinner!"

you finally break whatever composure you were channeling, voice breaking and raising and causing the several groups of people to look in your direction. some of them are subtle with their side-eyes and whispers while others are full on staring, mouths agape with looks of pity and you wouldn't be surprised if you find a video of this on the internet later.

"what is your problem," he says, "i said i'm sorry but you really can't be that-"

"leave," you tell him, quietly now, with your head down and eyes on the table. "i'll take care of it. just please...get away from me."

there's a few beats of silence before he mumbles something along the lines of "whatever," deeply sighing like this is actually causing him any distress, like he's the one who has to stay here with lingering gazes and pitiful stares. you think he might take a breath to say something else but then ultimately decides against it, the squeaking of a chair and heavy foot steps walking away indicating you're finally alone.

and it's during that time your tears start falling, your head hung and hand cupping your forehead so the people around you don't get more of a show.

maybe a part of you knew deep down that the relationship was gonna be over, that it really should've been for your sake and you were just too scared to accept it. but it was just the manner in which he did it, so coldly and out of nowhere, like the past five years didn't mean anything to him. and you can't deny the sickening parallel to years of you telling him you didn't want him to fucking propose to you in public and then going and dumping you at one of your favorite resturants.

"i'm so stupid, oh my, god, i'm so fucking stupid," you mumble out, voice wobbly and wet before you feel the presence of the waitress at your side. you peak up at her as she bends down holding out a packet of tissues, a sympathetic look on her face that has you realizing she probably watched the whole thing go down.

"you're not stupid, baby, don't say that," she says, placing her hand on your arm comfortingly.

you thank her quietly for the tissues, taking one out and dapping at your wet face. "i'm sorry, this is so embarrassing," you squeak out, "i'm gonna pay the bill don't worry, i just...i needed him to leave."

"no, i'm so sorry that just happened. i can't believe he thought that was okay."

you sniffle as you scrunch up the tissue. "i-i know," you say, "i mean i knew he was an asshole but he really just...our anniversary dinner! and during dessert! i was so excited for this cake."

she laughs softly at your sad whine, placing down the tissue packet and moving the plate closer to you. "well, you can still be excited. don't you dare let him ruin this tiramisu." you're pleastantly surprised when a small chuckle leaves your mouth, wiping at your face with your wrist.

"you're right, he can't taint it," you say before catching the side glances of people surrounding you, "but i think i have to get out of here before i cause any more of a disturbance."

she nods her head sympathetically, urging you to take a few bites and that she'll bring the check right over.

you keep your head down as embarrassed tears threaten to fall again, the feeling like a milllion eyes are on you making you feel even more awkward and unsettled; you're sure it's just paranoia but you swear you can feel eyes boring into the side of your face, someone probably laughing and mocking and feeling so incredibly sorry for your pitiful situation.

sorry enough that when the waitress comes back, she tells you someone has already paid for your bill. your eyes widen upon hearing the news, looking around curiously and stuttering out incoherent bits of sentences.

"who?" is the only clear thing you're able to ask.

"i don't know, he just left," she tells you, "brown-haired guy. very tall. cute, too." you feel her hand on the back of your chair when you stand up. "and i'm sorry again, honey. i didn't charge you for the cake but i hope to see you in here again enjoying it," she adds on quietly.

you give her a grateful smile and nod, assuring her you'll definitely be back before rushing out to catch up with the mysterious man who just dropped well over $100 on two complete strangers. and luckily, you don't have to look very far. because there he is, all dark hair and broad shoulders, leant against the side of the building with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

he sees your teary-gaze meet his and his lips quirk up ever so slightly before he flicks the ashes and begins to turn around. but your low "hey!" stops him in his tracks. he cranes his neck back to look at you, the sky dark around you both but the light from the streetpoles clearly showing both of your expressions.

his is unnervingly blank, only a flicker of soft sympathy in his eye while your own, still heartbroken, also holds a curious, maybe even a wary look. because why would this stranger do that? could he have felt that bad?

you make your way up to him, feeling slightly intimidated when he fully turns around and you see just how much he towers over you. but it's funny because his face is shockingly...sweet looking, like a fresh-faced boy you'd see in church or volunteering at a nursing home.

but then his large stature, the shoulders you can't stop eyeing, his all black attire mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke and cologne makes for a very strange contrast. even his voice, when he finally mumbles back a "hi," is sweet sounding.

"why did you...the waitress said you paid my bill." your tone is quiet and small but still manages to sound accusatory.

"i did, i'm sorry," he says and you're wondering if the pink flush on his cheeks is from the cold. "i hope you didn't mind." you find yourself staring at him blankly, eyebrows pinched together because...did he really just apologize for that?

"i...well no but..i..it was probably expensive," you eventually get out, "you didn't have to do that."

"well, neither did he," yunho mumbles and you can tell by the airiness in his tone he didn't mean anything bad by it. but it doesn't stop your face from dropping slightly, lips pressing into a firm line to distract yourself from your stinging eyes.

"i'm sorry, that was insensitive," he winces, the sincerity in his tone only confirming your thoughts. "but i just... i wanted to pay for it. why should you have?"

you swallow the lump in your throat, shrugging your shoulders lightly because you don't really know what to say back to that.

"because i'm the one who got dumped," you squeak out before a humorless laugh bubbles out of you. "dumped on our anniversary. how pathetic is that?"

"it's pathetic of him," the boy grunts out and you cock your head to the side at how mad he sounds.

"i-i guess..." you say after a few quiet seconds before words start pouring out of you. "i just.. can't believe it. i don't know what i'm gonna do now. i've been with him for so long and got so used to him and then he really went and-" your voice breaking cuts off your sentence, like it's finally hitting you that the relationship is over.

because no matter how bad it was, it was still something you put years of yourself into. years of effort and years of memories and you feel so stupid for feeling this upset when there's far more bad than good.

"i'm sorry, you definitely don't wanna hear this," you laugh out humorlessly as tears sting your eyes. "but...i just wanted to thank you for paying the bill. i wish i could make it up to you somehow, it was probably expensive."

you meet his gaze to see him smiling slightly at you, even though you're on the verge of a breakdown and talking far too much.

"you're welcome," he says before hesitantly continuing. "i was gonna go walk around for a bit. do you wanna join?"

when you look up at him with a wary expression, he puts his hands up in defense, eyes soft and wide as he shakes his head. "it might clear your head a little, that's all."

your fragile heart warms at the gesture but you find yourself declining, insisting you're not the best company right now and that'd he probably regret inviting you.

"i don't think so," he says and his voice is just so kind that you're questioning if he's even real, questioning why on earth this stranger seems to care about your wellbeing. and when he sees you're still teetering, teeth sunk into your lip as you look at him with conflict in your eyes, a sweet smile spreads across his face.

"c'mon, you said you wanted to make it up to me."

your lips purse to the side, eyebrow raised ever so slightly before letting out a quiet sigh. "okay... but don't say i didn't warn you."

his smile widens as his long arms come out to showcase the sidewalk in front of him and you find yourself giggling slightly at his dramatics. you take one last look back at the restaurant before exhaling sharply and feeling his looming presence next to you as you both begin to walk.

"so....were you there with friends tonight?" you chirp, hoping to distract your impending nervousness with conversation.

he tells you he had met his mom there for dinner, who brought along his new step-father he can't help but detest. but he sat politely all throughout the appetizer and main course until one too many ignorant and snappy comments had him putting the man in his place.

"he was also mean to the waitress which is why i eventually snapped," he tells you. and by snapped, he means lowly speaking for him to either find some manners or piss off. "my mom asked for the check so fast and they left within five minutes. so i stayed for a drink."

"i could so use a drink right now," you laugh out, "but it sounds like you were in the right. you're just all types of chivarlous, huh?"

you peak up at him to see a smirk cross his face, his eyes falling to you at the same time and pink covers both your cheeks at being caught. but you and him will pretend it's because of the harsh winds whipping through the city; yes, the whipping wind, definitely not the soft curious gazes and arms bumping into each other clumsily.

"what made that obvious?"

you shake your head as another giggle falls from your lips, tightening the sweater around your body when a particularly harsh breeze pelts into you again. and of course, the boy next to you immediately notices, hears the clattering of your teeth and sharp intake of breath.

"you cold?"

"no, i'm okay," you squeak out. but you already see his movements from the corner of your eye taking off the black bomber jacket.

"please don't give me your coat, i can not-"

but it's already placed around your shoulders before you can finish your sentence, a knowing smirk on his lips when you huff at him, exasperated.

"....i was gonna say your name but it appears i don't even know it."

his deep chuckle rings through the air, stopping his feet so he can properly put his hand out.

"i'm yunho."

"y/n," you say back, taking his large hand in yours and what an innapropriate time for you to admire its sheer size and the length of his fingers. "you're... nice, too nice."

his smile widens looking down at you, hands still intertwined as he cocks his head to the side. "because i gave a cold girl my jacket?"

"and paid for her bill. and welcomed her on a walk," you say, "i'm wondering how much more i can get out of your very obvious pity."

his smile falters, eyebrows knitting as he shakes his head. "i'm not doing this out of pity."

the firm way in which he says it has you lowering your head shyly, eyes on the concrete as you take the hand in his back. all of your emotions are out of wack tonight, your chest not knowing how to feel, broken and aching over that awful dinner but also...slightly warmed by the actions of this random boy.

"then why are you doing it?" your voice sounds so small and it makes a frown cover his face now.

"can't i just be nice to you?" he asks, "why do i need a reason?"

"because we're...strangers," you say, looking up at him hesitantly and pressing your lips together nervously, "and you don't know me."

"everyone's strangers until they're not," he retorts, stepping just a smidge closer to you and it makes you swallow down the dry patch in your throat. "and maybe i want to know you."

when you can't find the words to respond, heart racing and throat clogged, he speaks up again.

"let me distract you tonight."

your eyebrow raises, head turning to the side because you don't know what to make of that comment. because you know you're vulnerable right now, know you should probably go home and cope normally in the form of crying and ice cream.

but you trust him for some reason. trust his soft voice and kind eyes and the way he seems so genuine and pure despite his dark appearance.

"what do you have in mind?" you find yourself asking, stomach fluttering and whether it's from nervousness or his bright smile, you don't know.

"could you still use a drink?"

12:22 a.m

"okay, i think....this is a weeeee bit unsafe!" you say as you stumble up the stairs behind him, his hand pulling you carefully by one of your fingers.

"probably," he says, "but we'll be okay."

the sound of a door squeaking open is the first thing you hear, the harsh whipping of wind the next as your hair blows back and coldness envelops your body. yunho bends to stick a brick in the door before guiding you to the middle of the rooftop.

the dark sky is lit by faint lights shining from apartment buildings and bulletin boards, the only sound an occasional honk of a horn making it's way up the 20 stories. you disconnect your hands to stumble over to the edge, placing them on the cold concrete to peer your head over. you take in the sight of tall buildings and taxis and little figures of people walking the streets.

"heeelllooo!" you scream down at them, your hands cupping your mouth in hopes someone will hear you. yunho's laugh echoes through the sky, quickly walking over to place a hand on your lower back.

"be careful."

you turn around, back now resting on the ledge as you poke his chest lightly. "you're the one that said we'll be okay," you mutter, lowering your voice to imitate his words. "because i'm big and strong and a suspiciously nice boy."

"okay, nice you told me," he says, voice teasing as he stares down at you with bright eyes. "but big and strong, you say?"

"very big and very strong," you say, letting your finger travel from his chest to his shoulder. he watches your eyes follow your hand, roaming from one side of him to the other before meeting his eyes. and it's like his gaze acts as an electric shock, your hand immediately falling from the black material.

"and i had very too much drink."

he smiles down at you, making sure to stay close because he'd be lying if he said you being so close to the edge didn't make him nervous. and perhaps this wasn't his best idea, bringing you up to the roof of his apartment complex after you had one too many beers.

but it's a nice place to clear your head, to take in the sights of the city in a less noisy and crowded way. and he thinks you could use that after the night you had, after the night he couldn't help but hear take place as he sat alone at the bar.

he had ohad a perfect view of you all night. you caught his eye the second he sat down, your shy smile and the way you fidgeted nervously with your hair making him not being able to tear his gaze away.

but then he'd heard the bored tone of the guy across from you, the way he was barely entertaining the conversation and just avoided all your softly spoken questions. he had tightened his grip around the beer bottle one too many times, sick and tired of asshole men who never learned how to respect other people.

"i just wanted my cheesecake."

your sudden whine rips him from his thoughts and he can't help the smirk creeping up on his face.

"which one? the tiramisu?"

it's your surprised gasp and bright eyes that has a smile stretching across his face and your own heart warms upon seeing it. because he is super cute.

"yes! oh, my gosh, yes!" you giggle, "have you had it?"

"every time i go," he chuckles out, "except tonight."

"me too," you say and the sudden thought that he wants to kiss the pout off your face comes into his head. but that would absolutely absurd because he's only known you two hours and you just got broken up with and you're a bit tipsy; there's just far too many reasons for him not to do it.

so he lifts his hand to your mouth, his thumb and pointer finger lifting your face into a smile. you giggle against his hand, opening your mouth playfully and pretending to bite it but he quickly rips it away.

"hey!" his voice is deep but teasing and it makes you squeal as you drunkely trot away from him. in fear that you'll somehow stumble over the edge, he chases after you but the sound of his feet causes you to speed up. your laugh echoes on the rooftop, his own deep chuckles and pleas of "stop!" ringing through the air.

and he wishes you would've listened because no less than ten seconds later do you trip over your shoe lace, stumbling and crashing down right on your side. he yelps your name, rushing over and is grateful to see your head didn't ricochet off the concrete.

"oops," you giggle out, rolling onto your back as you rub at your side. he kneels over you, assessing your face for any injuries and sighing in relief when you're unscathed. but then you sit up, looking around in a daze before your eyes land on the untied white lace.

"okay so not my fault....my shoe was untied."

"i see that," yunho laughs out, tapping his large hand on his knee. you look at him with a small unsure smile.

"let me tie you up."

your eyes widen for a split second, mouth dropping open and you see how bright red his face his face gets even in the dark.

"your shoe! let me tie your shoe up! so you don't fall again." you plop your foot down with a nervous laugh and watch his long fingers double knot your laces before gently placing it down. "next one," he says with a smile, "just in case."

you purse your lips to the side to hide your own, sticking your foot on him before laying back on the cold ground. he plops on his butt after he finishes tying the second shoe, watching you lay there and he hopes you don't fall asleep.

a few moments pass before he hears your quiet voice.

"what'd you say?" he asks, leaning his head towards you. but now it's his eyes that are widening, your hand pulling him by his sweater and if he didn't put his arms out, he probably would've fallen right on top of you. his large figure rolls off, laying right beside you just as you speak again.

"stars," you slur, "i wish we could see them here." because you're just staring at the black abyss, the crescent shaped moon the only thing beaming down at you. but what you'd give to see a sky full of twinkling stars, because there's a sense of wonder in them that always makes you feel better.

"i know, that'd be nice," he sighs. and it's a thought he's also had when he'd sneak up here. whether it was after rough days or okay days or great days, he always found solace up here. but he always thought, especially on those particular nights he felt gloomy, that the stars would've been good company.

"what made you take me up here, anyway?" you hum curiously.

he moves his gaze, watching you look at the sky and he feels his chest tighten. because it's like the moon is reflecting in your eyes, the only source of light shining down on you as you look up and take it all in. and even though your cheeks are red from the wind and tears and your hair is windblown and knotty, "you're beautiful."

he says it so lowly that you wouldn't have heard it if a harsh blow of wind whipped through the air. but because it didn't, because everything up here is now still and unmoving, you crane your neck to look at him.

"what?"

his cheeks flush ever so slightly because he did not mean to blurt that out. but he got lost in his admiration, in the way you looked so angelic and at peace and content and now he really has to work on answering you.

"i'm sorry," he says, voice sounding breathy and flustered. "i meant....i mean, i don't know, really. i just think it's a nice place to get away for a bit."

he thinks he might've scared you off by his compliment, watching you turn your head back to the sky and remain silent for a few beats of time. his brain is screaming at him now that you're gonna jump up and run away and think his intentions were anything but pure. but then his brain and body relax when your soft voice begins to speak up.

"it is," you squeak quietly, "i...think this was a good first choice."

"first choice?"

your head snaps to look at him again, a smile on your face at just his presence next to you. because he's the type of person who has a light around them, who makes you feel at ease and whose soul you just know is good.

"well yeah," you squeak out, "i have you as a distraction all night, right?"

a big smile of his own brightens his face and you feel your heart flutter, jumping and shifting at the way he just looks so happy.

"you do."

"well, i have our second place in mind. but we might have to take a taxi," you explain to him, "on me, of course."

"no need," he says, "this is actually my apartment building. my car is downstairs."

you huff out as your eyes roll and he chuckles when you stare at him with a pained expression.

"what?"

"you're too chivalrous!" you whine, smacking his chest lightly as you cross your legs. he only smiles as he shakes his head at you. but his heart hurts because the bare minimum for you would probably seem like an act of chivarly.

"fine. i'll drive myself there and you can walk," he teases, poking your kneecap lightly when he says the word 'you'.

"deal," you giggle and he bites his lip at the sound, placing his large arm behind his head before you continue. "but first..."

he watches you unzip his jacket, fishing inside of it before whipping out two beer bottles with a smile. "i'd like to finish these, if that's okay."

"did you smuggle those out?!" he asks, humor in his tone as he leans up on his elbows.

"well, i paid for them of course!" you squeak, cheeks heating up at the way he's looking at you with his soft eyes and red cheeks. but then it occurs to you why his poor face is probably bright red. "and since we're at your house now....can i please ask something of you?"

he raises his eyebrow at you.

"please get yourself a jacket."

2:38 a.m.

he'd been driving for a little over an hour when you quietly alert him that you've almost arrived. he'd been led to a suburban area, brick houses lined with garden gnomes and mini vans in a quiet town. he smiles when he drives around the corner and sees a fenced in playground, two jungle gyms equipped with monkey bars and slides as well as a swingset in the farthest corner.

"ah, so this is destination 2?"

"yeah..." he hears you mumble quietly, "do you think it's stupid?"

he looks over at you when he hears the almost whispered tone in your voice, eyes staring down at your lap with your hands tucked into one another tightly. it seems like you think he's gonna berate you, like you're reliving some sort of bad memory and expecting history to repeat itself.

so without thinking, he reaches out with his hand and places it over yours. the unexpected warmth causes you to jump, looking up at him with glossy, hazed eyes.

"of course not," he says softly and you swallow the lump in your throat. "i'm pleasantly surprised. i haven't been on a playground in forever."

the smallest of smiles makes its way on your face, whipping your head back to the park and wiggling your feet. "me either," you mumble.

"then let's go, shall we?" he hums, removing his hand from yours as he turns off the car and opens his door to get out. you just manage to place your hand on the handle when five seconds later, he's opening and holding the passenger side door for you.

"i'm not even gonna say it," you mumble before thanking him quietly. he chuckles as he follows you to one side of the park, a gaping hole in the fence that easily allows the average sized body to slip through. but it proves a bit more challengingly for him, a giggle leaving your mouth as you take him by the hand and pull him the rest of the way in.

"i forgot you're a giant."

he scoffs playfully at you, running past you to get to the swings first. but you're sluggish in your movements, teetering and eyes heavy because you really shouldn't have had those two drinks. you were hoping it'd liven your spirits, make you more fun and playful.

but it appears when you're as sad as you are, the fun parts of drinking get skipped over and the sorrow you're feeling only heightens. and the boy smiling at you on the swing is making it easier, the way he talked and laughed with you in the car, the way he's parading you around and keeping you company so you're not lonely and sad. but you still feel it, feel like you're being crushed by the pain in your chest and torn in two different directions.

"i shouldn't have drank," you whine, taking a seat on the swing and leaning your head against the cool chain. your statement immediately has his eyes widening, his feet stopping on the gravel and looking at you.

"why?" he asks, slight panic in his voice, "are you gonna puke?"

"no," you giggle out slightly as you shake your head. "i just...i know my company's about to get pretty depressing." you swallow the lump forming in your throat, feeling tight and like you're about to choke on it. "your distractions have been....great but i'm still feeling so- i don't know why i'm-"

you feel his hands on your knee, the warmth radiating through your pants as he's bent down and looking at you with those kind brown eyes.

"hey, it's okay," he says softly and it has tears stinging behind your own because he looks at you nicer than he ever did and here you are crying over that waste when you could be getting to know him. "it'd be unusual if you didn't, y/n, it just happened."

your teeth dig into your lip to stop it from trembling, sniffling against the cold air. "i guess...i brought him here once you know."

"yeah?"

his heart wrenches seeing you stare down at your lap dejectedly, moving your foot in small circles that his thumbs micmic on your knee. and that's the way you stay for a while, in the cold silence together as he stays bent down rubbing your knee, your eyes trailing from your lip to his long fingers that have such a gentle touch.

"when we first started dating," you finally say quietly because it was probably one the first red flags that he wasn't gonna be the best boyfriend. you'd been dating for two months, driving back into the city after his first time meeting your parents when you asked him if you could show him one of your favorite places.

and you don't know why you were so surprised when he laughed at you, raised an eyebrow and scoffed because 'why would a grown adult wanna go to a playground?'

"did he like it?" he asks, seeing that you're in your head again.

"of course not," you laugh out humorlessly, "he thought it was so stupid. asked why either of us would even wanna go here when we're full grown adults. but i...i don't know, i came here all the time when i was younger and wanted to show him. i though it'd be fun."

he forgets he's holding onto your knee so you look down when he squeezes it between his large hand, eyes tight and jaw slightly clenched as he shakes his head.

"he's the stupid one," yunho bites into the cold air, "you wanted to show him something meaningful and he couldn't see that."

you shrug as a quiet sigh leaves your mouth. you don't even know why you keep talking but words just keep falling out of you, making you even more mopey and sad and you know he's absolutely regretting this. regretting spending his night with a whiney loser who can't stay out of her own sad head, who doesn't ever know what to say back so you lapse into silence while uncomfortable thoughts plague your mind.

"would you break up with someone like that?" he hears your voice ask lowly and his stomach twists at your question. because it was so random and out of nowhere, he knows you've probably been mulling over everything for these past few silent minutes.

"would you just spring it on a person like that? at a restaurant in front of people?"

he doesn't even have to think about his response.

"no," he mumbles truthfully, "i...don't think i could ever."

you sniffle because you had known that would be his answer. he's nice and kind and everything you wanted your boy....ex-boyfriend to be.

"but i've also never broken up with anyone before," he shares quietly.

you wipe at the lone tear that finally escaped your eye, cringing when you see your makeup on his jacket.

"oh? but you've had a girlfriend before, right?"

when he doesn't answer, your eyes widen and you quickly correct yourself when you meet his gaze. "or boyfriend..."

a small smile crosses his face as he shakes his head. "it'd be girlfriend..." he says teasingly, "but no... i've never really dated anyone, officially. just flings and stuff."

"why?" you squeak out and his eyes flicker to you, roaming your face to see an avid curiosity in your wide, glossy eyes.

"i don't know," he says honestly and he wishes he had a better answer for you. "it's not like i haven't wanted one...i just never found the right person, i guess."

you can only hum thoughtfully, nodding as you take in this new bit of information. because how is it possible that he can't manage to find the right person?

"well who would that be then?"

when he looks up from your knees, he sees you looking down at him with your head back against the chain. and if was anyone else, he'd think they were asking coyly. like they were trying flirt or be tempting.

but he knows that's not the case, even if he wants it to be.

"someone good," he says after thinking about it for a second, "someone i can have fun with but also be serious with. just someone...genuine and sweet, who i know deserves the best."

"you just described yourself," you mumble and he can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

"yeah? i thought that kind of sounded like someone else here," he responds lowly, his deep voice causing your gaze to meet his. you bite your lip nervously at the eye contact and any other time it'd make you nervous and fidgety. but now, because you're in the state you're in, you can't look away.

and it's a state he knows you're in as well which is what causes him to look away and stand up, moving himself behind you until his hands meet the middle of your back. you jump in surprise, craning your neck back to look at him.

but before you can ask him what's happening, you start flying into the air. you let out a small squeal as you tighten your hold on the chains, his large hands pushing on your back as you swing.

"don't fall again!"

"well, a warning would've been nice!" you squeak before another uncontrollable laugh cuts you off.

"that's not as fun."

he continues to push you until you whine for him to sit down next to you, pumping your legs as you two fight to get higher. but when he leans his head back a few minutes later and catches a glimpse of the dark sky, he's halting and grabbing you to stop the swing.

"what're you doing, cheater! i was winning!"

"come with me."

he grabs your hand and leads you over to the jungle gym, guiding you up to the highest platform before craning his neck up.

"what're you doing?" you ask as you mimic him before a gasp cuts you off. because the exposed ceiling of the playground shows off the sky full of bright twinkling stars, the lack of light pollution from the bustling city allowing you to see just what you're robbed of every night.

"the stars!" you squeal, looking at him excitedly and he feels his chest constrict like it has every time that bright smile comes out. "they're so pretty."

"they are," he mumbles, watching you plop down on the cold floor and lay out to stargaze. he smiles softly before joining you, bending his legs so he fits on the platform. and just like on the rooftop, your arms press together but neither of you make any attempts to move them.

and then if your head somehow ends up grazing his shoulder, he only peaks down with a smile that matches your own.

4:10 a.m.

once the cold got too much, lips chapped and hands red, you both ran to the car and waited anxiously for the heat to crank up. there was a sense in the air that your time wasn't over yet, neither one of you mentioning going home or ending the night despite the early morning hours creeping around.

so it's why you ended up picking up food at a 24-hour conveience store, crumps of snacks and water bottles littering the floor of his car. why you're both just pulled over on the side of the empty highway, the occurence of another flashing pair of headlights rare.

"so what do you usually do on a friday night?" you chirp as your feet rest on the dashboard, "you know, when you're not accompanying a weepy dumpee?"

"don't call yourself that," he laughs out, "but usually just at one of my friends. we're a boring bunch so you've actually spiced up my night."

"now i know that's a lie," you quip, poking his arm lightly and the sound of his deep chuckle has your cheeks heating. he is cute.

"it's not," he assures turning his head to the side to throw you a wink. "and thank you."

your body freezes as a gasp leaves your mouth, snapping your head to look at him. he doesn't laugh because of how wide your eyes are, how shocked and horrified you look that you just said that aloud, but he really wants to.

"i...i didn't say- oh, my god."

"what's so bad about that? i blurted out that you were beautiful two hours into meeting," he says, embarassment laced in his tone.

your cheeks heat at the memory, a shy smile on your face as you look down to hide the bright blush. it's daring on his part, daring to reach out and lift your face, rub his thumb along the warm skin and smile softly as he does so.

"why are you hiding?"

"because you're crazy," you say lowly, quietly, and you're cursing the dinner and the way this sweet boy affects you for your low self-esteem ruining the car's atmosphere.

"fine, i'm crazy," he says, "but you're still bea-"

"i'm not," you interupt quietly, before he can say those words and warm your heart and make you wanna kiss him. because that would be a terrible idea. even though you want to, even though you've developed the fastest crush in history and it would be so easy to just scoot over a few inches, move your head in just a little and-

"why? because he broke up with you?"

you bite your lip at the reminder, roaming over his face that's unwavering and serious. dark eyes looking into yours, focused on nothing but you with his hand still on your cheek. you swallow the ball forming in your throat as he waits for you to answer.

"yes," you mumble, feeling your eyes gloss over before you move your face to look back out the window. he sighs next to you and you can feel his gaze on you, boring into you and the tightness in your throat is almost suffocating you.

"i'm sorry, y/n, but you have to know-"

"stop it," you mumble brokenly, "please stop."

"why," he says softly and he's surprised by himself for pushing you. but he can't help it, not as he watches your fleeting moments of happiness fade in and out the way they have all night, sees your eyes water and hands start to fidget.

there's only a tense silence in the car for the next few moments, your eyes out the window and his on you as he watches your fingers fold into each other.

"he didn't deserve you," he suddenly says and you look up with your eyebrows furrowed, a humorless laugh leaving your mouth.

"how could you say that, you don't even know him," you mumble, hating that you're sitting here and defending him. and for what? you already knew he was the worst.

"from the things you've told me. from what i saw and heard with my own ears," he tells you quietly. "i...he acted as if he wanted to be anywhere else but with you. and i just couldn't imagine why. because you seemed so... sweet and happy to be there with him."

you swallow nervously at his intense gaze and words, reaching out to fumble with the heat because it just got uncomfortably warm in here.

"why are you saying these things?" you ask suddenly, snapping your head up to look at him. "why are you still being so nice to me?"

he lets out a strangled sigh, his hard eyes looking you over and it makes something in you burn.

"i get it, you feel bad and wanted to play the knight in shining armor for a pathetic girl. but i can't take it, tonight. i can't take you...saying these things to me and not meaning it. just saying it out of pity."

"that wasn't why i did it," he's quick to say and there's something building in the air, a light buzzing as you become more snappy and he becomes more adament to prove himself to you. "and how do you know i don't mean it? i never felt pity for you."

"because it doesn't make any sense," you squeak out brokenly, "you're...you and i'm just some sad girl who can't keep her boyfriend interested enough to remember their fucking anniversary. can't keep her boyfriend happy enough to wanna stay with her and instead be dumped at-"

it's his large hand grabbing your jaw that starts it. halts your words and connects your gazes and has shaky, strangled breaths leaving your mouth. has him mumbling "stop it," through gritted teeth and you snarling a firm, "no."

and it could've been him bringing you forward or you pulling him closer but somehow, after a few beats of lingering gazes and breathy sighs, your lips connect.

at first neither of you even realized what happened, lips instinctually moving against one another and eyes shutting. his hand moves to your cheek and yours move to his shoulder, squeezing it lightly to ground yourself, make sure this is really happening because apparently the warm tingly feeling in your body isn't proof enough.

but it's what makes him rips himself away from you, chest heaving up and down from the adrenline of acting upon the feelings and actions he wanted to the moment he saw your smile on the rooftop.

"i'm sorry," he breaths out, eyes trained on the steering wheel, "i shouldn't have done that."

and if he thinks he shouldn't have done that, then you certainly don't think crawling over the console to straddle his lap would be the next appropriate move. but you do because it's like the second your lips met, you realized just how much you wanted and needed that.

his body freezes, back pressed right up against the black leather seat when watches you climb over. he looks down at you, dark eyes with a mix of agony and surprise and he's trying so hard to remain the nice, gentle boy he's been all night.

but then you bunch his shirt up between your hands, pull him down a few inches from your lips and mumble a plea to kiss you again against his mouth that has your lips crashing into one another again. his arms wrap around your waist hesitantly, your back arching when you feel how big his hands feel on your back, the warmth from his skin penetrating through your shirt. and it's all the encouragement he needs to tighten his hold around you, part his mouth and allow his tongue to sweep across your lips.

you stiffle a moan at the intrusion, meet his with yours as you slightly roll your hips on him. "y/n..." he groans against your lips but you only hum against them, body buzzing and the sound of heavy breathing fanning throughout the car only is only making you more willing to kiss him, to press yourself against his body and give yourself over to him.

but he quickly stops again, disconnecting your lips and squeezing your hips lightly. "wait..we shouldn't ...i don't wanna make you-"

"please," you say breathlessly, almost like a whine because your desire had been harboured by sadness but you now you don't even care. not with the feeling of him under you and the taste of him lingering on your lips and the way he's looking at you. "i want you."

"this isn't how how or why i wanted to distract you," he grunts out, "i swear i didn't-"

"yunho," you say, eyes boring into his and when he looks at you with wide, questioning eyes, you place a peck on his lips. "shut up."

and shut up he does when you bring his face down to yours, grinding his hips up into you at your eagerness and a tiny moan leaves your mouth at the feeling. because you feel the hint of a bulge and now arousal is just pounding through you.

your hands move to his hair, pulling and tugging and grinding against him and you hadn't realized how pent up sexually you were. and like the man under you has transformed into a new person, you just about faint when he disconnects your lips and mumbles against them, "he wasn't fucking you right, was he?"

your hazy, half-lidded gaze moves to him and you swallow at how different he looks. messy hair, red lips, dark eyes looking at you with such an intense, lustful gaze. and his voice, his deep and almost condescending tone causing wetness to pool between your legs.

"no," you whine out frustratedly.

"i can tell," he mutters teasingly and the way he says it makes your stomach flutter. his lips trail against your neck, kissing down and down as you lean your head back and bite your lips to suppress a moan.

"i'm gonna make you feel good, make you moan my name and come on my tongue and then fuck you right," he says pulling away from your neck to make you look at him, "is that good, baby? is that what you want?"

his dick twitches when he sees your roused hair and flushed face, eyes glossy and lips abused from his kiss and your teeth.

"hm?" he mutters again when you can only stare at him as your chest heaves.

"yes," you moan out and you can't believe how quickly you've fallen so needy and wet, "please."

"yes what?" he growls, "say my name."

"yunho. yes, yunho, please."

he lays you down on the seat, sliding it all the way back until he has just enough leg room to crouch down by the floor. he snakes his hands up your legs and thighs slowly, rubbing along your core and smiling when you thrash and twitch on the seat.

"are you gonna be wet for me, baby? i hope that's what i'm gonna see."

"yes, yunho," you repeat and he sharply inhales at how quickly you've learned to listen, how eager you are to respond and how you're already widening your legs.

"you're such a good girl, you know that?" he hums, undoing your pants with his fingers and you make sure to crane your neck to watch him. and it doesn't get lost on him either, smirking as his tugs your pants down to mid-thigh and you moan in response. your eyes roll back when you see his long finger trail against your wet lace thong and he has to surpress the growl in his throat.

"look at these," he hums moving them to the side just a little to graze your wetness and licks his lips when he feels his fingers get slick with your arousal.

"you," you gasp out, desperate for his touch or his tongue or just to feel him do anything but teasingly have his finger on you. "for you."

"yeah?" he mumbles, slowly moving around your dripping slit and you swallow down a loud moan. "you know. i wanted to kiss you all night," he hums, sliding your soaked thong down slowly and kissing in your inner thigh, "but i didn't think i'd get this lucky."

and with that, his hair grazes your stomach as he dips his head and places his tongue on your clit, lapping over it before trailing down to lick and taste more of you.

"holy shit," you gasp out and it only causes his tongue's assault to build frantically, sucking and licking and moaning against your wetness as he mumbles how good you taste. your hand moves to his hair, pulling and twisting the strands of hair and then gripping it harshly when you feel his finger slide into you.

"yunho," you screech out and you catch his eyes looking up at you, the image of him right between your legs, his mouth grazes over your burning core causing your own to roll back.

"look at me."

his deep voice commands it with such deep authority, so different than his sweet soft-spoken words, that you roll your head back to look at him with hazy eyes.

"i want you to watch me. watch me eat and finger this tight little pussy until you're screaming my name," he growls, bringing his other hand up to squeeze your bare thigh. "understand? i want you to watch me."

you nod your head frantically and you think you would've agreed to anything just for his tongue to go back on you and his finger to start pounding into you. and when it does, when he finally starts again between your legs, you bite your lips so your eyes don't roll back again.

because his tongue lapping over your clit, his long finger pounding up into you as looks right at you is quickly becoming too much. you can't ever remember a time oral felt like this, felt so consuming and had you making the sorts of moans and whines vibrating throughout the car.

"oh my god," you whine lowly, rolling your hips over his face but it only causes the hand not in your pussy to pin you down by your hips.

"hey," he warns lowly, his wet lips retracting from between your legs, "you've been so good for me, baby. what happened?"

"i'm sorry," you whine, "it just feels so-" his tongue laps at your clit teasingly and you screech "good, feels so good," when he sucks it into his hot mouth.

"i think i need to sit you on my cock," he says and the pride that floods through him when you clench around his finger is all consuming. "what do you think?"

"yes, yunho," you say, trying to remember how he likes you good, "please, i wanna sit on your cock." and it pays off because one second your laid out on your back, the next your pants are at your ankles and he's flipped you guys so you're straddling him again.

you feel his hardness under you, peaking down and your eyes widening when you see his sheer size. "whoa..."

your cheeks flush when you hear his deep chuckle, his hand running through your sweaty hair as he lifts your head.

"i'll be gentle."

but in a bold move, you spit on your hand and jerk his cock causing him to sputter in the seat below you. "i hope not," you mutter, eyes teasing and voice low and he squints his eyes at you.

"oh no?" he hums, "then sit."

thighs wet from the arousal dripping out of you, you swirl the tip around your slit teasingly and throw your heard back with a moan. and it's the only reason he humors it, because the way you look with your head thrown back, chest heaving and mouth hung open, is enough to make his already throbbing cock ache for you even more.

you move it to your clit, pressing him into it and grinding as a whiney cry leaves your lips. "oh my god," you squeak, your eyes shooting to his and you connect your lips again. he meets your kiss with the same fervor, taking his cock from your hold and lining it up with your entrance.

"i need to fuck you now," he growls, "please, baby."

"yes," you mumble against his lips, groaning out against him when you feel him enter you and stretch your walls. you both let out breathy moans when he fully enters, him because "you're so fucking tight" and you because "you're so big, yunho," and it's all the motivation you need to start grinding your hips onto him.

his hands dig into your hips, urging you on with coos of pet names and expletives that have you grinding and bouncing and moaning out. and if anyone were hitch hiking on the side of the road right now, it wouldn't take an expert to know just what was going on inside.

because both your deep moans and grunts are echoing throughout the car. your heavy breathing and sighs have fogged up the windows of the shaking car from your rolling and grinding and his thrusting to find that spot within you.

the spot he finds only a few minutes later that has you falling forward into the crook of his neck, bouncing your wet heat on him because you hear his strangled breathing and loud grunts until the familiar hot feeling of him releasing inside you has moans ripping out of your chests in unison.

it takes a while for your breathing to turn even, for your shaking legs to simmer and the ringing in his ears to stop. but when it does, he kisses the top of your head still buried in the crook of his neck and gently places you in the seat next to him.

he fumbles with the glove compartment and takes out a wipe, gently dabbing between your legs as you lay your head back on the leather seat.

"you okay?" he quietly laughs out seeing you still in a post-orgasm daze.

"i'm....good, great," you say, a laugh bubbling out of you before shyly thanking him for cleaning you. because even in the car, directly after an intense sex-crazed adrenaline rush, he still remembers aftercare. and you think if it was possible to fall in love with someone in a night, with a heart as fragile as yours, he'd be the person to make it happen.

"me too," he says quietly, throwing the wipe in the empty plastic bag before he looks over your face. "i...that was uh great, really great."

his face burns when you turn away to laugh into your shoulder, his deep of groan of "stop!" only making you giggle more. and like it wasn't the cause of what just happened in the first place, you mumble again that he's cute.

"also," you say, when your laugh and his red cheeks subside, "it'd probably be a good time to mention i'm on the pill."

6:49 a.m.

you're half asleep in the front seat of yunho's car, the familiar sounds of horns honking and the bustling city keeping you from falling into a full slumber. he had asked on the way back if he could bring you to one more place before you called it a night (even though the birds were chirping and sun was rising). and who were you to say no when he had smiled and asked so softly.

you pop your eyes open, hands under your cheek as you watch him silently bob his head to the soft music. he's at a red light, one hand atop the steering wheel as he looks over to see you staring.

"hey sleepy," he says, reaching out to fix your slightly messy hair. "i'm sorry, i know you're tired but we're almost there."

"s'okay," you mumble, meeting his soft eyes with a smile, "i don't wanna leave you yet anyway."

"oh no?" he hums softly and his heart tightens when you sees a shy blush cross your face.

"i didn't mean to say that," you sigh out sleepily and his small chuckle rings through the car.

"i was hoping you did," he says, hand moving from your head to pink cheek, "because i don't wanna leave you yet either."

the sound of a honk promptly ruins the moment, yunho's eyes moving to squint into the mirror before he drives off. you giggle as you shut your eyes again, burrowing yourself further into the leather.

he shakes you awake a few moments later, his hand on your shoulder as he looks down at with you soft brown eyes.

"we're here."

"where?" you mumble, sitting up and peaking out the window to see a small bakery.

"let me show you."

he gets out and meets you around the passenger side door, opening it for you and extending his hand out to you; you take it without a second thought and he smiles as he intertwines your fingers.

you walk up to the bakery door, the fresh smell of baked bread wafting through the empty store. the faint welcome from the worker is drowned out as your eyes peer over the shelves, bread and cookies and cakes lined up behind the streak-free glass.

you look up at him curiously when he leads you over to the cakes, tightening his hold on your hand when you guys stop in front of the display.

"pick anything you want."

you cock your head to the side before your eyes roam over the selection, squinting your eyes to read the script in front of every pastry when a tiny gasp escapes your lips.

"is that a-"

"tiramisu cheesecake," he confirms, "i heard it's really good here."

you stare at the glass as your heart tightens in your chest and you can't believe you have any tears left to sting behind your eyes today. but you don't wanna cry, even if they're happy tears, so it's why you lean your head against his arm and press your lips into a firm line.

"and i don't know if it's as good as that one," he says lowly, "but i figured it could hold you over until we....until you go back."

you lift your head to stare at him and he pouts upon seeing the one on your face. but before he can ask what's wrong or if he overstepped, your arm is wrapped around his body as you press your head into his chest.

"thank you," you choke out, "i....thank you." because if you try to say anymore, your hope that not even happy tears escape your eyes will be gone to shit.

and it's like he knows that. so he presses his lips to the top of your head and asks for a slice, your body still attached to his when he pays and ushers you out to the car.

and that's where you tell him you're so thankful for this cake but you also wanna enjoy the other one too. and at first he doesn't understand, his eyebrows furrowed together as he nods his head hesitantly.

"so i was thinking....maybe not this week, so i don't show up with a new boy right away...but next week, maybe we can go to-"

"yes," he blurts out and a big smile makes its way on your face when you see he can barely hold back his excitement. and he doesn't even care too.

because as he takes you home, you excitedly talk it over and exchange numbers. and he's quick to tell you you can start out as friends first, that he doesn't expect anything from you and will take this new found relationship at whatever pace you decide to set.

but you hope the smirk you throw his way shows him that you know within a few weeks time, you'll completely forget about the boy who made you so upset and dropped you into his lap, now filling you with such an excited, hopeful feeling even in your sleep deprived state.

you direct him to your apartment building and you thank him again for the night, sweet smiles and lingering gazes as you both delay separating.

but because that time has come, you gather your cake and open the door after teasing him that he better not get out and do it for you.

"so, i'll see you next week?" you ask quietly, a small shy smile on your face.

"next week," he says, watching you with a smile and light heart as you barrel up your apartment stairs and he gives himself two hours before his fingers start itching to text you.

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