#along with moving and starting school again‚ i had a bunch of family and health stuff thrown my way at the start of this semester‚‚ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

binniedeactivated · 4 years ago

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𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧. || 🌪💦 (1.4)

[ m.list ]

➦ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐎𝐂 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

➦ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐮

➦ 𝐖/𝐂 | 3k

➦ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

➦ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 + 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

POC = person of color

adriana did it often. whenever she had some time for herself in the midst of her hectic school days she would make it her duty to get to the bathroom just so she can fix her makeup. she didn’t wear makeup because she thought it made her beautiful but it covered up the scars her ex made on her skin. she refused for anyone else to see them or even get a slight glimpse of them. she wanted to leave all that in the past. she didn’t want to have to explain her bruises to anyone.

often times he would try to come back. trying to love her the ‘right’ way this time, or trying to swoon her into thinking that he was finally going to be the man she always wanted. only to be the man she always hated yet again. she didn’t want to be in this situation. she was twenty six she wanted a life, she wanted love and she wanted a family. she loved the kids she taught like they were her own of course but she couldn’t wait for the day she would finally be called mommy.

she was starting to like yeonjun. not just for the sex--although that was pretty good too. but she saw him every morning and every afternoon dropping off and picking up his children, hugging them, kissing them, holding them near him at all times. even if he forgot something he would drop it off in the middle of his day or even if the slightest inconvenience happened to them he would drop everything at the drop of a dime. he had even been invested in their school work, their grades and progress, more than adriana has ever seen any dad concerned about their child. she found that she wasn’t just attracted to the sex, but she was attracted to love he had for his kids.

“ms. A! ms.A!”. myla called frantically from her chair while sipping on her juice box. it happened to be lunch time and the children were sitting at their tables happily chatting away while making messes of their faces. adriana touches her back softly,

“yes myla?”.

she points to the bright pink sticky note inside her lunch box. “what does that say?”.

adriana crouches down to her level to get a better look. she clutches the sticky note and reads it loud enough for myla to hear.

“enjoy your lunch myla. have a great day! daddy loves you ♡ “

adriana smiles a bit, “your dad left you a note today. do you want to maybe keep it and put it in your pocket?”.

myla nods excitedly, opening in her pocket for adriana to just shove it in there. she folds it neatly though and places it that way instead. she stands to her feet shortly after.

“ten more minutes left of lunch time guys, make sure you’re eating”. she announces prior to returning to her desk to finish organizing worksheets.

“your dad packs you lunch?”. andrew, one of the children at the table had asked. myla nods while happily biting into an apple slice.

“that’s so weird. packing lunch is for mommies. My mommy packs my lunch”.

“me too!”.

“ou me three!”.

“‘me four!”.

the other children decided to chime in. their small voices were drowned out by the indistinct chatter around the room. myla slouched her shoulders in shame. she hadn’t thought it was weird for her dad to pack her lunch all this time.

“well my daddy likes to pack my lunch”. she decided to say, although not knowing if she was trying convince them or herself.

“your daddy is weird”. Paige says, chewing into her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“he’s not weird don’t talk about my daddy”.

“yes he is. packing lunch is for mommies”. Andrew adds again, licking the oreo icing off the cookie.

myla clenches her small fists growing a little angry at the obnoxious boy. “shut up. daddies can do it too”.

“no they can’t! unless your daddy is a girl. is your daddy a girl?”. he teases, leaving the rest of her lunch table flooding in laughter. myla felt ashamed at each and every kid who laughed at her and made fun of her father. she could feel her cheeks heat and salty tears well in her eyes. she clutched her juice box angrily and threw it at andrew’s face.

“Ow!!”.

“don’t talk about him ever!”.

he rubs his face and sticks out his tongue. “that’s why he’s still a girl!”

“myla! andrew? what is going on?”. adriana rises from her chair behind her desk, only for myla to run straight out of the classroom in full fledge tears.

“you know, you’re really pretty”. daniel complimented his girlfriend Luna. and that she was. she had this pretty black hair that spiraled down her back with bangs along her forehead. she wore these vibrant pastel colored dresses everyday. most importantly though she was sweet to Daniel. and that was something he came to love.

she smiles behind her book at him. It was reading time. yet the duo decided to use the time to whisper to one another instead of reading those boring books that their teacher handed them. “thank you. I showed my mom a picture of you yesterday. she said you’re a cute boy”. daniel chuckles a little. “well tell her I said thank you. It’s been a while since someone has called me that. other than you”.

she strings a piece of hair behind her ear in wonder. “really? my mom always calls me cute. doesn’t yours?”. daniel bites the inside of his cheek in thought. he couldn’t remember the last time his mother even saw him long enough to compliment him. but he wasn’t going to admit that to Luna. he moves his head in uncertainty. “sometimes I guess,”. He lied. “not as much as yours probably though”.

she lays a hand on his shoulder. “well you’re a cute boy daniel”. and that kind of made his heart warm. when Luna reminded daniel of his mother’s shortcomings it was all he could really think about throughout the day. there were a lot of things that he could say his mother hadn’t done for him. for example, most of his friends often bring leftover dinner that their mom cooked to eat at school the next day. or they would talk about the complications of their mom doing their laundry, being too overprotective, nursing them to health when they were sick.

Leah hadn’t done these things since daniel was younger. he only held a faint memory of her making this extravagant dinner one day for his dad’s birthday one year, but that was about it. it never necessarily bothered him because his dad was always there. his dad did his laundry, his dad cooked dinner, his dad was overprotective and his dad took care of him when he sick.

and this was the way it always have been in daniel’s mind. Luna kisses him on the cheek at dismissal before grabbing her jacket and running to her mother’s side. daniel drums his fingers on the table while glimpsing at the both of them. the way she hugged Luna and kissed her forehead, helping her get her jacket on. he could tell she did everything in love, too. daniel wondered if that was why luna was so sweet and kind. he wondered if maybe that’s why he liked her so much.

she had the aura of a mom.

yeonjun approaches the classroom door and myla immediately ran to his legs with a sour expression, to which he he picked her up and allows her head to fall into the crook of his neck. “whats the matter my?”. he whispers, signing his name on the sign out sheet. Adriana advances her way over to them both.

“hey yeonjun. a situation happened with myla and another student today, he was teasing her and she threw her juice box at him. I let myla off with a warning since I don’t tolerate throwing things in my classroom, however since the student was teasing her about personal issues he’s receiving a greater punishment”.

yeonjun nods. “make sure you call me about these types of things alright?”.

adriana’s heart sank. he looked kind of angry but she couldn’t really tell. “will do”. she breathed. damn it. calling him was the one thing she forgot to do.

daniel was glad to leave his classroom when his father arrived. he was already at the door in fact. yeonjun ruffles his hair and pulls him close. After he signed him out though, it was unusual having two silent kids walking with him to the car.

he adjusts the rearview mirror. “myla? what happened at school today?”. she shook her head with a pout at her lips. he knew he was probably going to have to try again when she felt better. it still didn’t stop him from feeling bad though. he nudged daniel next, who was currently staring out the window in the passenger seat.

“what happened with you today?”.

he too gave him a stand-offish response and shrugs his shoulders. he wished he hadn’t let his thoughts get the best of him. he wished it didn’t bother him as much as it did. if only him or myla knew how much their silence and emotions really broke their father’s heart. he’d much rather have them arguing. he decided to reroute himself, choosing to go to one of their favorite destinations.

arriving at pizza planet was one of the best things yeonjun could’ve done. upon arrival myla and daniel could already feel today’s weight lift off their shoulders a little especially with the loud music and obnoxious arcade games blaring at them when they stepped in.

“order whatever you want”. yeonjun says, approaching the food counter with both of them on either side of him. myla clutches his hand, “really? anything?”. yeonjun nods. “yeah anything”. and once the answer was confirmed it took no time for the duo to put in their freakishly odd orders. myla mainly ordered a bunch of desserts that yeonjun knew she didn’t need and Daniel ordered a shitload of pizza. Combined with yeonjun’s order it totaled to quite a dime, but yeonjun didn’t mind at all.

“daddy can we play the games please please please?”.

“yeah can we play the games?”.

“yeah hold on”, yeonjun pauses before pooling out two five dollar bills from his wallet for the both of them. to which they took the money and immediately ran off excitedly to the token exchange machine. Yeonjun laughs in their trail, “wow! no thank you?”.

“thank you daddy!”. they said in unison, rushing to stuff the coins in their pockets.

yeonjun sat at the booth seat and awaited the food although it took a while. the waitress placed everything down neatly around the table.

“so? do you have a girlfriend?”. she asks completely catching yeonjun off guard. she couldn’t look more than seventeen years old.

“married. plus I think you’re a little too young sweetheart”.

she tilts her head a little and smiles with her eyes still focused on getting the drinks on the table. “I’m legal though”.

“no thank you sweetheart”.

in a way it kind of scared him. she was legal sure, but a young adult willing to date a married man with children? it made yeonjun question her morals. especially when she gifted him a small wink before telling him to enjoy his meal.

yeonjun shakes his head in disbelief before calling his kids over to the table. there wasn’t a better feeling to him than seeing them happily munching on their food with attitudes that starkly contrasted the ones they had in the car. he took and napkin and curled it around his finger before wiping the smudged off of myla’s cheeks.

“dad! I finally beat myla in Mario kart”.

“no you didn’t daniel! you’re a cheater”.

“no I won. you just don’t want to admit you lost”.

“I didn’t!”.

“yes you did”.

“don’t worry myla. I’ll teach you how to beat him next time”. yeonjun adds.

“really? do you know how to play?”.

“pft. I’ve been playing Mario kart before you both were even born”.

“that would be cheating! you can’t help her dad that’s not fair”.

myla rolls her eyes choosing to change the subject. “what was I like daddy? when I was born?”.

“very quiet. and sleepy”.

“I didn’t smile or anything?”.

“well when you were a newborn you were kind of mean. you didn’t want anyone to hold you except me”.

myla laughs. “really?”.

“yeah. you were so mean to your mom oh my gosh. you didn’t want to drink milk from the bottle even if she was holding it”.

“was I ever nice?”.

“hm. you were nice when you were just a few months old but only a little bit. you were really calm and relaxed though. you just wanted to play and sleep”.

“what about me?”. daniel asks next.

“oh god, daniel. you were a crybaby”.

myla laughs pointing her finger in his face. “Ha!”.

daniel ignores her though and continues. “what did I cry about?”.

“everything. when you were happy, when you were sad, when you were mad, when you had to sit, when we tried to get you to play, while you were eating. you just cried all the time. we were starting to think you just hated us”.

daniel laughs to himself a bit. “was I good looking?”.

“of course. you and myla were really chubby so it made you even more adorable. you guys always got lots of compliments”.

“more than logan?”.

“No one gets more compliments than logan. not even me”.

daniel decided to playfully tease. “whatever dad we know Logan is your favorite”,

yeonjun laughs. “no he’s not don’t say that. I have no favorites”.

myla sneaks her arms around him. “I’m your favorite right daddy?”.

“why would you be the favorite? you’re annoying”. daniel teases again.

“guys. I have no favorites. you all are my favorites. alright?”.

the both of them scoff wanting him to admit who his favorite was. but they decided they wouldn’t pressure him today since the arcade games were still waiting on them.

***

and being home was like it was every night. yeonjun took care of the household and made sure things were getting done at a reasonable time. but there was always one chore that yeonjun never failed to nag his children about.

“daniel clean your room. what’s that pile of clothes on the floor?”. he points with logan wide awake and clinging to his chest. he stuffs a hand in his mouth and gurgles.

with the gaming headset on daniel didn’t realize how loud his voice actually was. but he was playing over-watch and he failed to lose this mission.

“one more minute dad”.

“do it now. I’m starting laundry soon and I need to know what’s dirty”.

the boy huffs and assures his teammates his return. although his father was being a nag he didn’t hesitate to think the same thoughts he had gotten in school. he was afraid to talk to yeonjun about them. he didn’t want to stress him out more than usual. above all else daniel noticed his mother’s absence during moments such as this and that made him even more grateful for his father.

“thank you. I’m coming back to check”.

daniel wondered if it would be odd to tell him that he loved him at that moment. so he just kept his mouth shut.

you’re annoying but I love you dad, he wanted to say.

thank you for loving me the way that mom doesn’t, he wanted to say.

“myla put your toys in your toy chest. is your laundry basket full?”.

she replies with her eyes still focused on playing with her dolls in her dollhouse. “okay. yes I think”.

yeonjun lugs the basket with him to the door. but myla had a question in mind.

“daddy?”.

“yes?”.

“is packing lunch for mommies?”.

“hm? what do you mean?”.

“the boy at school today said that his mommy packs his lunch. and all the other kids said that their mommies pack their lunch too. what’s wrong if you pack mine?”.

yeonjun’s heart sank. this was the one thing he didn’t want for them.

“there’s nothing wrong me packing it myla. don’t let those kids tell you any different”.

“how come mommy doesn’t do it?”.

“she’s just— she’s just busy. but daddies pack lunch all the time”.

“they do?”.

“yeah. don’t feel bad alright? I do it because I love you and I want to make sure you eat well even while you’re in school. It’s just another form of me showing you how much I love you”.

myla rushes over to hug his legs. it relieved her that he said that. she was starting to think she was just an outcast.

“I love you too”. she whispers.

yeonjun smiles a little and kisses her on her forehead. “I love you more. now go play so I can make sure your brother cleaned his room”.

doing loads of laundry were that bad considering yeonjun always made sure he stayed on top of it all. his kids never had too much dirty clothes so it never took long. “are you ready to do laundry with me logan?”. yeonjun coos to the small baby before opening the washing machine. he turns it on, allowing the water to flood the bottom but something black caught his eye. It happened to be floating in the water.

he reaches his hand down and pulls it out trying to figure out what it was. but once he brought it up for his eyes to see in the light he wasn’t too pleased. it was an opened condom wrapper.

and yeonjun knew it wasn’t his.

#yeonjun #yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun #yeonjun fanfic #choi yeonjun smut #single father au #smut au

94 notes · View notes

stargaze-issei · 4 years ago

Note

Hi I was wondering if you could do some headcanons for Todoroki, Bakugo, Shoji and Tokoyami where maybe their s/o is injured after protecting some classmates for example how would they react after hearing about it and act towards the ones they were protecting and how they are really soft to their s/o. Does that make sense? Ooh and maybe how their class is shocked at them being soft towards their s/o. Sorry the request is so long

hi! this made me so soft, and i love every character so 🥺 thanks for requesting, bb! this is gonna be long lmao, so it's under the cut.

(also, im sorry for todoroki's one being so angsty and this taking so long, i had a couple of... rough days)

— 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬/𝐨 + 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐢.

bakugou katsuki.

-> bakugou loves to see you work hard and push your own limits.

-> often, he just let's you train however you think it's best.

-> so when you say you're going to have some extra training with kirishima, he wishes you luck.

-> "don't be late for dinner, dumbass, or i'll kick shitty hair's ass" ofc he won't kick you, you're his precious s/o.

-> when you arrived to the gym kirishima had requested, there he was, accompanied by deku.

-> "i hope you don't mind midoriya tagging along", you didn't, actually.

-> everything went as usual, a few punches here and there, some laughs.

-> but, somehow, while both you and deku were testing red riot's resistance, izuku got way too into it and didn't realize only kirishima's arms were hardened.

-> you saw a kick flying to the red hair's torso, and your body moved by itself.

-> the impact had you thrown to the other side of the gym, barely staying conscious.

-> to you, everything was so fast.

-> to bakugou it was the other way around.

-> a sweaty kirishima appeared, looking desperately for him, without making one coherent sentence.

-> "y/n... infirmary... bad"

-> katsuki had NEVER blast out so fast. like, NEVER.

-> when he got to recover girl's office, you were sleeping. she explained to him that there wasn't anything major, but you were extremely tired, therefore, sleeping. recommended a few days of rest, and then you'd be good as new.

-> of course he heard you were never recovering almost dying.

-> deku was a crying mess, poor him was so scared, kirishima was trying to calm him down but it was impossible.

-> when bakugou knew HE had hurt YOU?

-> "what the fuck were you even doing there, huh? a damn quirk stealer like you shouldn't be fucking allowed near people who earned they own place here. what? were you jealous of them? stop fucking crying and ow–"

-> "katsuki. stop." nobody saw you woke up, you'd had to thank your boyfriend for that.

-> you asked everyone to leave and explained bakugou it wasn't midoriya's fault, so he shouldn't bully him.

-> he said yes to you but had now intention of stopping lmao.

-> they took you to your dorm room, where bakugou had already set a bed under yours so he could watch over you at nights.

-> nobody dared to stop him.

-> until you were allowed to go back to classes, he was to your demand. everyone was so surprised to see bakugou katsuki doing what he was asked willingly.

-> AND THE LOOKS HE GAVE TO DEKU.

-> poor broccoli boy wasn't allowed to even look at you without gaining a whole menu of insults.

-> he apologized writing a note he gave to todoroki who gave it to you.

-> katsuki is really worried, like, reaaaally worried, so he makes you healthy meals, takes it to your room so you don't move too much and then washes the dishes.

-> "geez maybe i have to ask midoriya to kick me more often" HE WOULD LOOK YOU DEAD IN THE EYE AND CALL YOU THE BIGGEST IDIOT WITH NO HINT OF LOVE 😭

-> at school, he doesn't leave your side. if you complain on anything, even if it has NOTHING to do with your injury, won't stop until he fixes it.

-> kaminari, mina and sero tease him so. fucking. bad.

-> kirishima is kinda scared bc he thought you were dead for a second so prefers to let bakugou take good care of you.

-> whenever you feel a little pain at the place of the hit, he will warm his hands and put them on your torso.

-> the warm feeling helps to ease the pain, and he has an excuse to touch you. win win.

-> he's not angry at kirishima at all, even, if he has to leave you, kirishima is in charge of taking care of you.

-> but your favorite time is when you're alone with him, after school.

-> he'll get so soft towards you, stroking your hair, kissing your head.

-> the day after the accident, it was mainly because he was genuinely scared of something happening to you.

-> "you're so fucking dumb, shitty hair can take hits better than you do, what on earth was i supposed to do if you were actually hurt? don't do that, ever again, got it?"

-> you got a huge bruise from the impact though, and he kisses it before going to sleep to make sure it doesn't hurt 🥺

that was completely out of character but idcccc

todoroki shoto.

-> he's... intense, to say the least.

-> but it's just with you, like, he doesn't show it to everybody.

-> both of you are doing your internship, so you haven't spoke as much as usual.

-> he misses you, but knows you're fulfilling your dreams, so he'll wait.

-> you went to uwabami agency, along with yaoyorozu and kendou.

-> even though mostly it was just being her assistant, this one time you were called to a collapsed zone just outside of tokyo.

-> supposedly, the area was already secure when you arrived, you, momo and kendo used your quirks to help rescue trapped people wherever uwabami told you.

-> momo was trying to help a civilian, and didn't notice the big rock falling from above.

-> you launched yourself towards them, trying to push them out of the way.

-> the rock hit you instead.

-> you didn't remember a thing after that.

-> todoroki was at his father's agency when he got the call.

-> "please, get to the hospital quickly, i– y/n's in really bad shape, please, i'm so sorry"

-> to hear yaoyorozu crying, saying you were in the hospital?? he couldn't move at first. like, frozen.

-> but after understanding what was going on, he got to the hospital even before the ambulance.

-> he heard a commotion in the e.r., and run there.

-> you were on a gurney, covered in dirt and blood, carried by a bunch of paramedics screaming things to each others.

-> todoroki couldn't hear a thing, all he could focus on, was on your unconscious body.

-> he felt a hand placing on his shoulder, yaoyorozu was still crying and trying to explain him what had happened.

-> but he wanted to touch you, seeing you like that, like you were dead right in front of his eyes, he needed to feel your warm.

-> three nurses were needed to hold him from getting near you.

-> he was losing his little composure, and his left arm began to feel hotter and hotter.

-> you were taken to the operation room, leaving him on the edge of combusting in tears of impotence.

-> even though momo tried again and again to explain him, he shut down everything except you.

-> all he could think about was you, lying in a operation table, fighting for your life.

-> the rest of the u.a. arrived with time, the procedure didn't end.

-> everyone was more than shocked to see todoroki so feral, a single word or touch from someone could develop in a big fire, from the guy.

-> when the doctor finally came, shoto almost tackled him.

-> "they're going to be fine, there were a couple complications during the procedure, but everything turned out okay. we'll keep them in here for two weeks, in observation, but we're confident that they'll be leaving in less than a month".

-> for the first time in hours, todoroki actually breath.

-> the doctors allowed him into your room, and he decided to stay there until you could leave.

-> NOBODY was allowed there, besides your family and doctors.

-> he really felt like anyone else would hurt you.

-> when you woke up, he was sleeping besides you.

-> "oh, you're awake, baby, you're awake" as soon as he saw you, he took you into his arms.

-> after the doctors gave you permission to leave, he was right by to your side the whole time.

-> at the dorms, todoroki woke up before you to help you get ready, and went to sleep after so he made sure you were okay.

-> izuku understood your boyfriend worried, but highkey worried about his health.

-> for a while, todoroki ignored yaoyorozu existence, even if he knew it wasn't actually her fault, he hated that you put yourself in danger for someone else.

-> with time, you recovered and todoroki started to go back to his usual self.

-> but everyone remembered how hard can be to todoroki when his loved ones are in danger.

-> im sorry this doesn't have so much fluff

shoji mezou.

-> with shoji, we're going to skip right after you get injured.

-> because i'm sure he wouldn't be upset at whoever you were protecting.

-> he's a very logical dude, and understand you were doing your job as a hero.

-> and he loves you for it.

-> when they told him you got wounded, he tried real hard to hide how worried he was.

-> you are pretty strong, and lowkey stubborn so you accept getting treated instead of saying "it was nothing"?

-> it has to be at least a little serious.

-> but he's shoji, he's cool headed, he doesn't let his feelings cloud his judgement.

-> turns out, that rule didn't apply to you.

-> don't get me wrong, he didn't get violent like bakugou or todoroki.

-> he did freaked, asked recovery girl about your condition every five minutes.

-> "can i see them now? oh, right, sorry... are they alright? when will they be able to leave? can i go in now?"

-> no one had ever seen him so openly worried.

-> it's really observant, if you go back to school right after the incident, will notice immediately if something is wrong.

-> like you're in pain, or even uncomfortable because of your injury.

-> ask for permission to take you back to the dorms, you need to get rest and won't even argue about it.

-> if you have to stay in bed for a couple of days, be sure he will spend his day there.

-> tries everything to take your mind off your boring room.

-> tells you stories, lame jokes, keeps you updated on the class gossip, even if he usually doesn't like that kind of stuff.

-> "huh, yeah, midoriya and uraraka? right, they like each other, hm, i saw them having lunch together"

-> he might be a human radar but it's pretty much clueless when it comes to this things.

-> "they always have lunch together, mezou!" be nice to him, he's trying his best ):

-> i think everyone expects shoji to be soft when it comes to you, but not that soft.

-> once they saw him carrying you in his arms down the stairs, because "your wound hurt".

-> tokoyami was certainly shocked to see his friend like that.

-> is always hugging you with one or two of his arms.

-> will try to cook healthy meals, but fails.

-> he wants you to have enough nutrients and heal properly, okay?

-> buys you your favorite snacks and candies before going to the dorms.

-> shoji doesn't want his beloved s/o to get depressed for being locked up too long, and gives his best to make you feel happy.

-> is insanely shy about it though, and will try to hide his excellent-boyfriend side.

-> lots!! of!! cuddles!!

-> if you're okay with it, will take advantage of the situation and cuddle you like crazy.

-> i mean, you can't get out of bed and he just happens to have six arms willing to keep you warm and cozy.

-> is your number one caretaker and will continue being it until you feel better bc he's best boi 🥰

tokoyami fumikage.

-> just as todoroki, he's intense af.

-> if you're apart, he would text you everyday, you know, just checking.

-> even when he went away to work with hawks, still managed to find the time to talk to you.

-> benefits of being his s/o.

-> and it was at that time you got into an accident.

-> he instantly got worried when you didn't reply to his text after an hour, two hours, three hours.

-> you usually let him know if you're busy, but you just said you were going on a walk with kaminari.

-> hawks saw him getting upset, and gave him permission to go see you.

-> just when he was going out, midoriya called him.

-> "hi, tokoyami, i'm sorry i didn't call you before, um, please don't freak out, y/n got... y/n got hit by a car, but she's okay! it was not as bad as it sounds! we're at recovery–"

-> it wasn't tokoyami who got out of control, it was dark shadow.

-> poor thing got so scared something happening to you, he took tokoyami and flew towards you.

-> when he arrived, kaminari, midoriya, and a couple of your friends were outside u.a.'s infirmary.

-> turns out, while walking with kaminari, messing around, he got distracted and cross the street without looking.

-> the car managed to stop a little but you pushed him out the way and got hit anyways.

-> since there wasn't anything too damaged, recovery girl had already cured you when tokoyami arrived.

-> "are you alright, my love?" he wasn't that good with words, but you felt his worry through his eyes.

-> he couldn't avoid touching your face and arms while you were in the gurney.

-> i think he's those kind of guy who moves frenetically his hands when he's nervous.

-> you had to grab both his hands bc he was getting you nervous lol.

-> "they're fine, but i recommend having a few days off, in case your leg hurts more than normal, let me know, okay?" and with that, dark shadow took you to your room.

-> as worried as he was, he tried to keep his temper.

-> "are you sure you don't need anything? dark shadow can help you down stairs, i can do it too, something to eat, maybe? or s–"

-> you'd have to tell him ten times you're alright, and repeat it another twenty times.

-> and he would still ask you spontaneously.

-> while you're at the dorms and he's at class, people keep asking him how are you.

-> he says you're okay and he isn't worried, but dark shadow practically cries saying how much he misses you.

-> "fumikage misses them too, all he does is thinking about them"

-> tokoyami blushes hard if he can.

-> takes notes in class and gives you your late homework.

-> also helps you do it but do NOT give you the answers, you're smart enough to do it by yourself.

-> "see? i knew you could do it, my love"

-> leave me alone he only calls you my love.

-> he isn't a fan of cuddles, but seeing you in that condition?

-> is one of the few times he ASKS YOU to cuddle.

-> strokes your hair, gives you head kisses.

-> i strongly believe he sings to make you feel better.

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exhxustxd · 3 years ago

Text

miles “hux” huxley is here.

basic information:

full name: miles “hux” huxley

nickname(s): at this point, he’s only really known as hux, only his mother will call him miles

age: 48

date of birth: april 10th

hometown: taos, new mexico

current location: taos, new mexico

ethnicity: white

nationality: american

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

orientation: bisexual

occupation: ex-professional snowboarder who now works as park crew/slope handyman. he’ll step in wherever he’s needed when he’s not keeping the slope and park in peak shape.

living arrangements: a nice little house in town

language(s) spoken: english, some italian

physical appearance:

face claim: david boreanaz

hair color: brown

eye color: brown

height: 6′1

build: tbh kinda ripped

tattoos: some scattered about

piercings: –

clothing style: you’ll usually see him in snowboard pants and boots. a t-shirt, hoodie or jacket depending on the temperature.

usual expression: smirking

distinguishing characteristics: i mean he’s a nugget?

health:

physical ailments: after a lifetime of snowboarding he’s bound to have a bunch of aches everywhere, lbr

neurological conditions: tbd

allergies: tbd

sleeping habits: between his snowboard and ice hockey obsession and his kids, the man's not really getting a lot of sleep

eating habits: tries to be healthy, but will take whatever he can get honestly, eats like a goddamn truck

exercise habits: boards just about every day at work, but definitely plays ice hockey a couple times a week and goes to the gym and does boxing like 4-5 times a week, a very active dude

emotional stability: i’m gonna say he’s at a 5/10 right now, my man’s alright

sociability: very sociable, will talk to a brick wall if he has to, and probably be entertained by it

body temperature: warm and fuzzy

addictions: donuts

drug use: he’ll have some weed here and there ngl

alcohol use: every now and then – he usually goes big when he does tho

personality:

positive traits: perceptive, loyal, charismatic, adventurous, spontaneous

negative traits: impulsive, impatient, hotheaded, destructive, inconsistent

fears: commitment, but at the same time he doesn’t like being alone. jax or beau getting hurt.

hobbies: snowboarding, ice hockey, boxing

favorites:

weather: that kinda fall weather when all the leaves turn orange

color: blue

music: alternative rock

movies: anything action

sport: snowboarding

beverage: a nice lemon lime soda

food: pasta

animal: dog

song: my way – pvris

family:

father: deceased

mother: tbd

sibling(s): two older siblings

children: two kids – jax and beau huxley

pet(s): –

family’s financial status: he’s well off, the snowboarding has definitely paid off

extra:

zodiac: aries

bio:

hux was born and raised in taos, new mexico.

growing up, he was buried in sports – mostly snowboarding and ice hockey. he needed an outlet for his energy, and sports became just that.

stumbling his way through high school, snowboarding became the only thing hux felt he was actually really good at. he was completely obsessed, and would live and breathe snowboard. by the time he finished high school, he was competing at an international level.

hux also came out as bisexual very early in his career as he felt it was important to be honest and set a precedence in a community that wasn’t necessarily seen as the most accepting for a long time.

he was back home in taos for a while after getting injured when he got back in touch with his high school sweetheart. the two started dating again, and along came jax.

their relationship was a turbulent and unhealthy one. with hux traveling around competing and practicing most of the year, the pair struggled with making their relationship work. they separated for a while, until hux retired and moved home to taos.

it worked for a while, his efforts to spend more time with jax seeming like what had been missing. however, the more time spent with the two of them also led to beau.

throughout the pregnancy though, the pair realized that this relationship wasn’t for them and that they were better off just co-parenting.

ever since retiring his professional career, hux has spent his days in the slopes feeding his obsession while also doing his best to make up for the time he spent away from jax and doing things right with beau.

since coming back, he has joined an ice hockey team and goes to a boxing gym regularly as working has always been the best way for him to deal with his emotions.

hux is a person who feels his feelings intensely. and is extremely competitive. everything is a game he is determined to win. he’s honest and direct, and will not be afraid to stand up for what he believes in. while he appears confident and leads with example, hux has a plethora of insecurities lurking right under the surface.

about jax: jax is seventeen and non-binary. for jax, the road leading up to coming to terms with their gender identity has made its mark on the kid. they were super into ice hockey until the other kids started noticing that they were different, which made them lose all interest in the matter. they are super into music – plays guitar and drums, and would love to go into music production one day. a very creative kid who has found an outlet for their emotions and turned it into a craft they are truly honing in.

about beau: a happy-go-lucky little dude with way too much energy for his own good. he is still learning how to channel that into productivity, and has recently found an obsession for lego and duplo and will build anything his imagination will allow. he's also way too excited about starting ice hockey once he turns five – much to hux's amusement. he’s also already racing around the slopes on his little snowboard. and jax is his one and only hero.

#[hux] if i'm on the edge i'm going over it #[hux] intro #taos.intro

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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years ago

Text

let’s save the world

season two, episode five

five hargreeves x reader

summary: gathering the family together never ends well, but at least you can relax with a few of the siblings.

trigger warnings: cursing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: it took me literal years to find a gif for this one. not even kidding. i ended up settling. i am also sorry about how long this took to come out, i was very busy with school and some other health stuffs😂 anywho i hope you enjoy it

you all watch as reginald’s car gets farther away, and you sigh softly. it’s the eyeball all over again. time to chase after it before it bursts into flames before your eyes.

“you know, i’m starting to get the impression that dad’s avoiding us.” you look to five, away from all the people that filed out of the consulate.

“what gave you that idea?” you chuckle quietly, shaking your head as you look down at the dress you wore, and hated. you couldn’t wait to get it off, but you frown as you notice the missing piece. “i lost my bow to choke that guy, and it didn’t even work.”

scratching the back of her neck, lila glances to the three of you. “i hate to be the boring one, guys, but we need to get the hell out of here.”

as she moves to leave, you getting ready to follow, five steps in front of you to look at the woman with narrowed eyes. “when you mean ‘we’, who exactly are you referring to?”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you look at the boy, and lila seems just as confused, shifting her gaze to the side for a moment. “not a lot of ambiguity in that sentence.”

five doesn’t back down- by now you’re used to that. “listen, i don’t know who you are or where you came from, but i’d advise you return posthaste.”

diego leans towards him, “five, she’s right, we have to get out of here.”

“i just saved your life, you kinder shit!” lila spits out, “if i hadn’t stepped in, all that would be left of you is a blazer and some bloody socks.”

looking to the side as you chew on your lip, you felt quite ready to leave right about now. the dress was starting to feel a little too tight, enhancing the pain you felt from the hits you had taken.

“that’s the problem.” five points out, “you’re too good, you ask too many questions. you know too much. and you fight like you know what you’re doing.”

looking back to the small group, you think about what he had said, and it was starting to make sense. “he’s got a point.” you mutter, looking at the girl with a raised eyebrow, almost asking for an explanation.

“so i know how to handle myself, and that makes me the bad guy?”

you wanted to believe she was a good person, the ‘crazy lady’ who you had met in the car who just seemed to be tagging along- but she was starting to seem more suspicious the more you hung around her.

“whoever you are, you’re in my way.” five tells her, “if i see you again, i will kill you.”

he starts to walk away, and for a moment, you’re planted in your spot, staring at his retreating form. quickly shaking your head, you leave the other two behind, catching up to him.

when you got back to elliott’s, you had crashed on the couch after changing back out of the dress, and as you did, you had seen that one of the punches you took left quite a gash in your side, and you assumed the only reason you hadn’t noticed it before then was because of the blood that had clotted and dried around it, or maybe the adrenaline from such a fight.

either way, it didn’t matter. you were use to getting injured by now, it was a part of working for the commission and now, apparently, it’s a part of saving the world. you simply cleaned it, put some bandaging over it, and called it a day.

now, you sat on the same rolling chair that you always claimed in the door frame to the kitchen, leaning your head against the wall as you watch luther- who had finally decided he was ready to help, apparently- made some scrambled eggs. the mug that you held, filled as much as possible with coffee, was still scalding hot, but that didn’t stop you from taking the smallest sips every so often.

diego paced the kitchen floor, “no, no, no. i don’t understand. they keep following me.”

luther doesn’t even look up from the pan, which was basically overflowing with the eggs. “who?” he questions, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“those dutch sociopaths!”

“they’re swedish, you idiot.” five corrects him, leaning against the wall across from you, “hired guns paid to eradicate us before we can do any more damage to this timeline.”

“yeah, but why now?” diego raises an eyebrow at the boy, “i mean, i’m-” he snaps his fingers, “-fine. for three months until you showed up.”

luther nods slightly, “yeah.” he finally looks away from the eggs, “i was here for a year and no one messed with me.”

looking back to you two, diego holds his arms out, looking for an explanation. rolling your eyes, you stand up, kicking the chair away from you and into the living room. “so you’re saying it’s our fault, hm?” you raise an eyebrow at them, “even if it was, and it’s not, it doesn’t change the fact that we only have six days left before the end of the world.”

nodding, five glances at you for a second. “the closest anyone’s gotten to dad was that driveway, at the consulate.”

as his stirring slows, luther looks up. “well, that’s not exactly true.”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you watch as five steps closer to him. “what do you mean?”

“i saw him.”

you listen as he recounts the time he landed in the alley, when he got on a bus and went straight home- to the umbrella academy. when he arrived, there was some sort of house party going on, as people filled the building, all chatting and drinking champagne.

reginald stood with a circle of people- coincidentally talking about the end of the world and the uncertainties with time. when he walked away to get another glass was when luther stepped in, and was brushed off and humiliated in front of all the guests.

“that’s pathetic.” you all watch as the man scarfs down the eggs he had made, diego being the first to speak when he finished his story.

luther looks to him as he shovels more eggs onto his fork, “yeah, well, at least he didn’t shank my ass.”

“no, bro.” diego leans forward slightly, “he shanked your heart.”

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you at the comment, and five looks between the two of them as luther hums in acknowledgement.

elliott enters the kitchen, looking to the large man. “is that my bath robe?”

luther looks to him, his mouth full and his eyes wide as if someone caught him sticking his hand in the cookie jar. “no.”

“look, who cares what he shanked?” five finally speaks from beside you, moving to the more important business. “he knows something about time travel.”

raising his hand slightly, elliott looks to him, “uh, why don’t you just do your thing and, uh, time travel us out.”

with a sigh, five stands up to refill his mug, and you quickly hold out your own in a silent request. “anyone care to explain?” he questions as he takes the cup, walking over to the counter and grabbing the coffee pot.

“first time he tried, he got lost in the apocalypse.” luther states.

diego is next, “second time, he ended up without hair on his balls.”

chuckling quietly, you finish, “this time he scattered us all across the timeline here- in dallas, texas, also possibly triggering a doomsday.”

five turns as he finishes refilling the mugs, looking to the man. “any more questions, elliott?”

he quickly shakes his head, and diego starts to speak again. “guys, you’re all missing the big picture here. dad is the ringleader of a sinister cabal that’s planning to kill the president.”

you take your mug back with a quiet thank you as five hands it over, and luther looks to luther with confusion written all over his face. “a cabal?”

“ignore him.” five tells him, leaning against the counter, “look, the way i see it, we only have one option.”

without looking away from his eggs, luther raises the question everyone has. “oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“it’s time to get the umbrella academy back together.”

oh god

you’re not sure if you can handle them all at once again.

diego looks at the ground for a second. “hell yeah. family meeting.”

“okay, then can one of you guys get allison?” you look to luther as he stares down at his plate, suddenly incredibly invested in his eggs.

raising an eyebrow, you take a sip of your coffee. “are you two still... uh, canoodling?”

the man doesn’t answer, only tilting his head to the side a bit. diego slowly leans towards him, “do we need to talk?”

“no, she’s married.” luther speaks through his mouth full of eggs, and you scrunch your nose up slightly.

diego nods slightly, “dude, that’s rough.” he leans back into the back of his chair.

luther forces a chuckle, “i can handle it.” the expression on his face only a second later, as you honestly think he’s close to crying his eyes out.

“i’ll get her.” five sets his mug down, and you watch as he walks towards the archway into the living space. “do you think you can get vanya without, uh, squeezing her to death?”

luther looks at him with a deadpan expression from the comment. “i’ll try.”

“good.” he looks to you, “you should go with. just to, you know, supervise.” you nod with a light laugh, though luther doesn’t look nearly as amused as you are from the light jab at him. a second later, five is gone with a flash of blue.

you down the rest of your coffee as elliott stutters for a moment. “uh, what should i do?”

with a small smirk on his face, diego looks towards him. “prepare for company.”

“y’all know, jell-o used to be a delicacy.”

you sit in the living room of the apartment after you had managed to get vanya, along with her, luther, and diego, as elliott goes on about the disgusting concoction in front of him.

“in order to make it, you have to boil down a whole mess of hooves... you know, horses, cows, pigs, it doesn’t matter.” fire begins to dance across your fingertips as you stare at it in boredom, your lips pressed into a thin line. “but not everybody has a bunch of hooves lyin’ around. it wasn’t until, uh, a couple of sassy new yorkers figured out how to dry it out for the rest of us to use to... enjoy this ambrosia.”

diego looks to him after sticking all his knives in a little sheath, clearly as bored and annoyed as the rest of you. “if we have some, will you shut up?”

your nose scrunches up at the thought of having to eat that... sludge, and the fire immediately dies out. “maybe.” he quickly grabs one of the bowls around the table, beginning to distribute the thing he called food.

“i’m good.” you mumble, waving your hand as he looks to you, clearly disappointed from your refusal, but you could handle that. there was no way you were going to eat whatever that was.

luther’s face is scrunched up as he watches the man scoop up the ambrosia, deciding to look away and to vanya instead. “how are you feeling?”

the woman, who was slouched into the couch with her hands resting on her stomach, glances towards him. “pretty shitty, to be honest.”

flipping one of his knives in his hand, diego looks to her. “how would you say you are on a scale from one to... ending all life on this planet?”

sighing heavily, you lean forward and rest your elbows on your knees, ignoring the searing pain in your side. “seriously? put the knife away, idiot, she’s fine.”

his gaze doesn’t move from her. “the last time i saw this one, she had me suspended midair, sucking the life out of me with energy tentacles.” he stops flipping the knife to point it towards you, “i think i’m allowed a little time to process.”

“i would love to see an energy tentacle.” elliott looks up from his creation, looking between the three of you.

shaking your head, you sigh. “no you don’t.”

vanya sits up, looking to the man. “i don’t remember what i did, but i’m sorry.” she shrugs slightly, “if that means anything.”

he looks to her for a moment before he finally stops pointing the knife around, instead holding it at his side on the armrest. “it does.” that surprised you, but at least you wouldn’t have to stand around for another family argument. “just going through a lot right now.”

beginning to speak about ‘a girl he likes’, you roll your eyes. before he’s able to speak too much, the bell on the door downstairs jingles and you can hear laughter- allison and klaus.

“anyone here?” she calls out, and you stand from your seat, as does everyone else, going to stand at the railing of the balcony.

you can tell that the two of them are at least a little drunk from the amount of giggling from the two of them. they stop to look up at the five of you, and klaus takes his glasses off. “i know this is impossible, but did we all get... sexier?”

rolling your eyes, you watch as everybody else goes down to have a heartwarming family reunion, allison and vanya hugging before klaus joins in.

“alright, let’s get down to business.” five turns and goes up the stairs, everyone else following. as they come up, you take your seat once again, all of them taking their own places around the room.

standing in front of all of you, five sticks his hands in his pockets. “first thing i want to say is i’m sorry. i know i really screwed the pooch on this whole going back in time and getting stuck thing.” diego nods slightly, and you prop your feet up on the coffee table, nudging the empty bowl out of the way. “but the real kick in the pants here is, we brought the end of the world back here with us.”

“oh my god, again?” everyone looks to klaus in silence. “all of you knew? why am i always the last to find out about the end of the- oh my god, my cult is going to be so pissed, five! i told them we had until twenty-nineteen!” he whines.

you sigh softly as you run a hand down your face, “well, better inform them it’s coming sooner than that. we have six days.”

“is it vanya?” he takes a sip from his drink, and allison scoffs, “what? it’s always vanya.”

deciding to ignore it, vanya looks to five and you turn back in your seat, shaking your head. “do you have any leads, five?” the woman questions, and diego is already handing him the file that holds the picture of their father in the knoll.

“yeah, we have one.” five tells them, passing the folder over to allison, who doesn’t waste time in opening it up.

“holy shit, is that dad?” she looks at it in disbelief, and vanya quickly leans toward her to examine the photo as well.

after a moment, five continues to explain. “we’ve been trying to talk to him about what exactly this means, so far we’ve got nothing.”

“not nothing,” diego quickly adds, “we know that he’s planning to kill kennedy.”

“possibly,” you make your entrance into the conversation, “but we don’t know who or what sets doomsday in motion.” you remove your legs from the table, leaning forward slightly, “could be kennedy, could be something that doesn’t have anything to do with him.”

five nods, “but, if we know something changes the timeline, we have to make it right.”

her eyebrows furrowing, allison cuts in. “yeah, but how are we supposed to do that if we don’t know what to fix?”

“oh, come on, do the math.” diego tells her in irritation, “we know dad’s having shady ass meetings with shady ass people. we know he’s on the grassy knoll in three days to kill the president. so i think we all know what we have to do.”

“kill dad.”

“find dad.”

the two have very different ideas, apparently, and five turns his head to look at him with furrowed eyebrows, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing at the incredulous look.

it’s quiet for a moment before vanya speaks. “none of us are supposed to be here, right? i mean, what if it’s us?” she looks around, “has anyone here done anything to screw up the timeline?”

another bout of silence surrounds you as looks are exchanged between everyone, before luther takes a deep breath to start a circle of accusations.

“diego has been stalking lee harvey oswald.”

pointing a finger at the big man, his voice raises immediately, “and you’re working for jack ruby!”

“allison has been very involved with local politics.” klaus pipes up from his seat beside you.

“okay, and you started a cult.” she points at him, giving a mocking smile.

while klaus hissed as if he were a cat, vanya sat up in her seat slightly. “i’m- i’m just a nanny on a farm, i don’t have anything to do with all of that.”

allison looks at her, “well, maybe you do, we just don’t know it yet.”

a loud whistle catches everyone’s attention, looking towards diego. “look at yourselves. everything in our new lives is connected to kennedy. that can’t be a coincidence. luther works for ruby, allison is protesting against the government, dad’s on the grassy knoll, klaus-” he pauses for a moment, looking at the man, “is doing something weird and pervy, but it’s probably connected in some way. clearly we were sent here for one special reason. save john fitzgerald kennedy.”

rolling your eyes as everyone starts to argue, you stand from your seat, feeling a headache coming on from being around this incredibly dysfunctional family, unable to not think about how peaceful it was when you were normal for once, just working in a diner.

“guys, you all die.” you look back at five as he speaks, cutting through all of the clashing voices. “i was there. i saw it. i wish i could forget it, but i can’t. i saw russian nukes vaporize the world with all of you in it, in a war that never happened until we brought it here. hazel gave his life to save us so you may need to shut up and just listen to me.”

you frown slightly at the confession, feeling bad that he had to see his family die yet again. you couldn’t imagine seeing your family buried in the rubble of your home, or actually watching the blazing fire that wipes them out from a nuke that takes out the city.

“i don’t know if the things we all experienced here are connected. i don’t know if there’s a reason for everything. but dad will.” he looks around at his family and to you, “we need to him before everyone and everything we know is dead.”

you’re about to voice your agreement, but luther is the one to speak first. “okay. i’m out.”

with furrowed eyebrows, you watch as he stands from where he sits, already heading towards the stairs. “were you even listening, luther?” you question in disbelief.

he looks to you. “yeah. yeah, i was. i heard a fifty-eight year old man who still wants his daddy to come and fix everything.” he gives a derisive grin, “and you can count me out. it’s time we all grew the hell up.”

everyone begins to call him back, and you can’t believe what you had just heard, quickly running around the chairs and being able to step in front of him before he starts making his way down the stairs, you walking backwards with each step he takes. “you’re kidding, right?”

five appears next to you with a blue flash, and luther finally stops as he stares up at him. “no one leaves until we figure this out.”

he looks between the both of you for a second, before suddenly he’s grabbing your arm and tossing you over the railing of the stairs as if you’re as light as a feather. you yelp from the surprise, and five is gone before you can grab onto him, landing on the tile floor with a groan as you curl in on yourself.

“asshole!” you call out to him as he leaves the building, diego following after him for who knows what reason.

standing from the ground, you hiss in pain as you feel the gash in your side sting like hell. you lift your shirt slightly and peel the bandage back a bit to see that the scab that was starting to form had teared apart, and you press your lips together as you let the bandage and your shirt fall back into place.

“let’s go!” you hear klaus call out, and you see the remaining three siblings start to make their way down the stairs. “oh, y/n!” he calls when he sees you standing at the bottom, smiling slightly, “would you like to get some tacos with us?”

looking to the side for a moment, you sigh, before looking back to him. five was gone and you didn’t know when he was coming back, so why not? “tacos sound amazing right now.”

music played from the radio resting in front of the mirror on the table matching the rest lined along the wall in the hair salon, and allison ranted about her husband, comb in hand as she messes with klaus’ hair.

with a groan of annoyance, she continues. “the nerve of that man.” she chuckles bitterly, shaking her head, “i mean, one thing goes wrong, and he’s on a warpath! i mean, doesn’t know who i am?” she looks into the mirror in front of him, pointing the comb, “no, no. no ray, you know exactly who i am. you just can’t handle it. i’m protecting him.”

you take a sip from the bottle of champagne on the table next to you, already feeling the alcohol taking effect as you smile slightly, watching the two of them as you hum along to the music. “protecting him from what?” klaus questions, his cigarette between his lips as he raises an eyebrow at her.

“the end of the world, for one.” she responds, the irritation clear in her voice.

vanya speaks from her seat across the room, her feet propped up on top of the table. “hey, is the world really going to end in six days?”

it’s quiet for a moment, and you take another drink from the bottle. “it did last time. i saw the aftermath.” you shrug, “sure, i didn’t see this one, but five wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

klaus gets up from the salon chair, and allison puts the comb she was using to the side. “hey, wouldn’t it be weird if five grew up all hot?” he asks, moving to stand in the middle of the room, grabbing one of the extra bottles to fill up his flask. allison expresses her disgust. “oh, ew! ew! please, miss ‘luther was my lover.’“

holding her hand up, the woman started defending herself. “we have never even kissed.”

“yeah, but you guys were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other, all through puberty and breakfasts and all that.” he argues, motioning wildly with his hands.

turning her seat around so she can look towards all of you, vanya voices her confusion. “aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or?”

klaus snorts at the question, and you look to allison as she sits in klaus’ previous chair. “well, technically, it-”

“technically?” you cut her off, sitting up in your seat with a chuckle as you look to her, “if you have to use the word technically, you’re already in trouble.”

klaus giggles from where he stands, looking to vanya for a moment, “okay, can- can we focus?” allison dismisses the conversation, “i mean, clearly, we’re not saving the world tonight, but maybe, maybe, we can at least try to save my marriage!”

“no!” klaus cries out, and you grin, “no, because that’s- that’s like asking a nun how to hump someones leg. i mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships, huh? this one-” he points at vanya, “in secret love with some... farm frau,”

“her name’s sissy.” the woman whines.

“which is an improvement from her last lover, the serial killer.” he laughs, and vanya looks very confused from that comment, her eyebrows furrowing. “meanwhile i’m carrying a torch, for a soldier i haven’t technically met yet, luther is... in love with his sister. and you!” he spins around to point at you now, and you’re surprised by his sudden call out, “y/n, you don’t even realize that you’re ridiculously in love with five!”

you gape at the declaration, not even able to comprehend the accusation, but it doesn’t matter, because he keeps on. “face it, the only healthy long-term relationship in this family, was when five was banging that mannequin.” allison crosses her eyes, falling back into her seat, “the only thing the umbrella academy knows about love,” he holds his flask up into the air, “is how to screw it up.”

the two women mutter their agreements, and you take a long drink from the bottle, sighing as you let your head fall against the back of your chair, the champagne resting on your leg.

“how do you guys deal with this?” vanya questions, and you lift your head slightly to raise your eyebrows in question, and she continues. “all of it. the time travel, seeing the dead, the end of the world...”

“well i get really high,” klaus tells her, plopping into the chair behind him, “allison, allison... lies to herself.” the woman kicks a rolling stool towards him in irritation, causing him to flinch, “y/n works herself to death helping five, and you suppress all your emotions, deep, deep down, until you... you blow shit up.”

rolling your eyes, you decide to ignore his comments, looking to vanya. “yeah, i’d like to not do that anymore.” she looks to the floor.

“well,” you stand up, stumbling slightly, “you have six days.” you look at the nearly empty bottle of champagne, and you scrunch your nose up. did you really do that?

“what are we supposed to do with six days?” allison scoffs.

klaus mutters an ‘i don’t know’ and vanya seems like she has an ah-hah moment as she sits up in her chair. “i’m going to tell sissy i love her.” she announces, and klaus looks at her with raised eyebrows, his hands up in the air at his sides, “i don’t want any secrets.” she shrugs her shoulders.

“yeah-” allison grabs her bottle and stands up from her seat, “yeah, you’re right! ‘cause if everything’s going to go tits up, the least i can do is be honest with my husband!”

klaus rests his elbows on his knees, “oh... does that mean i’m going to have to face my cult?” he sighs, “i just hate group breakups- it’s why i stopped dating twins.”

vanya throws her hands out to the side, her eyebrows furrowed. “this family is amazing.”

the other two chuckle, and you shake your head with a grin on your face. yeah, their family is incredibly dysfunctional, but at least they were connected on some level. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” allison giggles, and klaus stands to hug her, both of them struggling to stand upright on their feet.

they motion for you and vanya to join, and when the woman hops over to engage in the group hug, you sigh and join in, having to lean against them all to keep yourself up.

taglists:

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty

let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @ purblerain @megasimpleplan4ever @whenyouregrungeaff @dumdumsun

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #number five #five #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five x reader #lstw #let's save the world

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nicknellie · 4 years ago

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Anonymous requested: Julie and the Phantoms are on tour and Juke are dating, one stop on tour Luke gets sick (woke up with fever, swollen glands, sore throat etc) and the doctor diagnoses him with strep and an ear infection and Julie takes care his stubborn butt back to the hotel because he doesn't like to let down the fans since they have to cancel few shows.

Anonymous requested: alive guys, out of school in the real world, now all living in an apartment together. The 5 Times Luke Was Sick, and The 5 Times Julie Cured Him and maybe add in the 1 time Luke returns the favour of taking care of Julie.

Anonymous requested: Luke and Julie are married and have a daughter (Rose, 3). Rose and Luke end up waking up sick with the flu and Julie takes care of them, and she gets worn down from doing everything and caring for them. And even with him being sick in bed he lays with Rose when Julie’s beat and cuddles her when she feels sick even though he feels the same. Cute family fluff basically.

We Will Fight To Shine Together

The entire week had been hectic. Julie – along with her boys, Luke, Alex, and Reggie – had finally got the keys to their new apartment and had spent the whole of the previous two days hauling their belongings there from their respective homes. Ray Molina, protective as always, had been breathing down their necks in a frantic and worried attempt to help them out, the presence of Willie and Flynn had resulted in less unpacking and more Cardboard Box Wars, and most of their things were strewn about in unlikely places after the chaos of unpacking; just that morning Julie had found Alex’s drumsticks in the fridge.

But they were finally there, they were finally home, and there was nothing to worry about. Everything in the apartment seemed to be in order, they weren’t set to go on tour for another six months so the stress of that was still a way off, and the band’s new-found sense of freedom and independence hung over them like a rainbow. There was nothing that could have gone wrong. Nothing except–

“Dude, you look sick! And not in the good way.”

Julie had been sat atop the kitchen counter, watching Alex prepare their breakfast, but she looked towards the door when she heard Reggie’s exclamation. Stood in the doorway, bundled in about four hoodies, his eyes bloodshot and his nose running, was Luke. Reggie was right – he looked as if he were about to keel over and die. His puppy dog eyes were wide and watery and he looked utterly dreadful.

“Luke,” Julie said, hopping off the counter and heading over to him. “Are you feeling alright?”

He shook his head and sniffled pathetically. “I’m sick,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, you look it,” Julie said. She took his hand and gently led him towards a kitchen chair. He collapsed into it with a relieved sigh as if he couldn’t have bared standing any longer.

To Julie’s surprise (and slight annoyance) Alex and Reggie were laughing.

“You must have the weakest immune system known to man,” Alex joked as he put the group’s breakfast onto plates.

“On the bright side, Willie owes me ten dollars,” Reggie said with a beam. “I bet him you wouldn’t last two weeks before getting sick.”

Julie put her hands on her hips and glared at the two boys who immediately ceased their laughter. She knew she could be quite terrifying when she wanted to and she didn’t like abusing that power too much, but this was a situation she felt called for it.

“You two are seriously lacking compassion,” she scolded, pointing to and from Alex and Reggie. “Your friend is ill and all you can do is laugh at him. It’s mean – he has it difficult enough right now.”

Luke, pouting pathetically, nodded in agreement.

Alex and Reggie, both looking suitably chastised, muttered, “Sorry Julie.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t apologise to me.”

“Sorry Luke.”

“That’s better,” she said. Julie took herself out of Mother Mode and returned to Supportive Girlfriend. She gently ran her fingers through Luke’s hair – he relaxed a little as her touch. “I’m going to take you back to bed, you’re going to get some rest while I look up your symptoms, and then I’m going to take care of you.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “It’s probably just a cold. You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t, but I’m going to. Come on.”

Julie sent one more cutting glare to Reggie and Alex before helping Luke stand and leading him back through their little apartment to their shared bedroom. She eased him back into the bed, helped him make a half-nest-half-fort with the pillows and duvet, then grabbed her laptop and set up YouTube for him. Then, she pulled up a tab on her phone and sat beside him on the bed.

“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?” she asked.

Luke shook his head.

“Are you feeling dizzy at all?”

“A little bit,” he croaked.

She smiled knowingly. “Sore throat too?”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

Julie asked him more questions, then determined that because of the stress of moving his immune system had utterly crashed and some nasty bug had seized the opportunity. According to the internet, he needed plenty of bed rest, he should have been kept warm, he needed a lot of water, and most of all he simply needed to not do anything for a while.

“But we’re supposed to go to the studio tomorrow to record a bunch of songs,” Luke protested when Julie told him. He sat up abruptly, but eased himself back down, a hand rested against his forehead, wincing.

“You’re not going anywhere like that,” Julie told him. “I’ll call the studio and let them know we’ll have to record your parts a different time. Don’t say anything,” she commanded as he opened his mouth to argue again. “I’m not changing my mind.”

He grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear but assumed was something childishly rude – it had certainly sounded as if he’d been mocking her voice. She ignored him and instead headed back out to the kitchen. Julie grabbed painkillers and a large glass of water and took them back to Luke who had started a long YouTube playlist of Bondi Rescue videos.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be sitting in front of a screen if you’re dizzy,” Julie contemplated, handing him the tablets and the drink. Luke looked up at her with a mixture of sadness and fury in his eyes.

“I’ve already lost my health, I can’t lose Bondi Rescue too,” he said.

She breathed a laugh and sat back down beside him. He immediately melted into her side, his head rested against her abdomen. She stroked her fingers through his hair and felt him sigh at the touch.

He was asleep within minutes.

Julie and the Phantoms were on tour. It was a moment they had all been anticipating ever since they’d inducted Julie into the band. The four of them had saved up enough money to buy their own tour bus emblazoned with their faces and the band’s logo and were spending nine months driving across the United States and Canada to perform their show to sold-out crowds. Julie could hardly believe it was happening.

Right that moment, part of her wished it weren’t happening.

Julie had been led to understand that before she joined the band and became the responsible one, Alex was the ‘parental figure’ who had kept Luke and Reggie (both far more boisterous by nature) in check. If anyone had told her that on the second leg of their tour, she would not have believed it for a moment. Alex was sat in the passenger seat beside her, but was leaning over the back of it to swat at Reggie who was kicking the back of his seat. Both were calling each other childish names and their hands were flapping about like they were having a catfight. Julie had given up trying to stop them about two hundred miles ago.

Looking after them sometimes felt like having a pair of toddlers. Though more often it was like having three toddlers because Luke would find a way to join in on the shenanigans. But right then, in the backseat beside Reggie, he was oddly quiet.

“Luke,” Julie called over Alex and Reggie’s squabbling, readjusting the mirror so she could see Luke behind her. “You okay?”

Luke nodded then tried to clear his throat. “Yeah,” he said, voice gravelly. “Sore throat, that’s all.”

Julie frowned. “Are you sure? You don’t sound good. Will you be able to sing for tomorrow’s show?”

His eyes widened frantically at the mention of the performance. “Of course! I’ll be fine, it’s just a sore throat.”

It was, unfortunately, very clearly not just a sore throat.

Julie pulled the tour bus into the parking lot of their hotel and the gang all headed to their rooms. Julie and Luke were sharing, partially to save money and partially because they wanted to. Before they went to sleep, Julie checked again with Luke to see if he was alright and again he told her in that rough voice that he was fine.

However, when they woke up Luke seemed distinctly worse for wear. He was radiating heat like the sun but shivering as if he were in the arctic, he was complaining of pain in his right ear, and when Julie looked down his throat she saw that his tonsils were swollen and covered in white spots.

“You’re not going on stage like this,” she said, shaking her head. “No way. I’m calling a doctor.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” Luke insisted, attempting to hoist himself into a sitting position but giving up quickly. “It’s just a sore throat.”

“You can try telling me that again when you can swallow more than a drop of water,” Julie said before picking up her phone and calling the nearest doctor.

Luckily, the doctor was able to come out to the hotel so Luke didn’t have to even get out of bed. The doctor took one look at his symptoms, then turned to Julie.

“Looks like strep throat,” they said, snapping their latex gloves off. “The pain in the ear is because of an ear infection that came after the bacteria travelled from the throat to the middle ear. I’m going to prescribe him a course of antibiotics, he’ll need to take them all otherwise the infection will come back stronger. I recommend he doesn’t perform for at least another month to give the infection ample time to heal.”

“A month?” Luke tried to yell, but it came out as an outraged breathy whisper.

“Yes,” the doctor said, looking down at him over their glasses. “Your infection is particularly severe, Mr Patterson, and if you want to finish your tour then I suggest you take my advice.”

“We can’t cancel shows,” Luke protested weakly. “Think of how excited everyone’s been…”

Julie smiled to the doctor and saw them out of the room. “Thank you very much,” she said. “I’ll make sure he gets those antibiotics and plenty of rest.”

Once the doctor was gone, Julie called Flynn, the official manager for Julie and the Phantoms and Julie’s lifelong best friend. “Cancel every show for the next month,” she instructed. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Are you alright, Jules?” Flynn said, immediately sounding concerned. “I can come over and take care of you, whatever you need, I’ll book a flight right now–”

“I’m fine, Flynn,” Julie assured her. “It’s Luke. He’s got strep.”

“Oh no.” Flynn’s worry morphed into something akin to disappointment. “He’s literally the worst one of you guys to get ill right now.”

“Tell me about it. He’s furious that we’ve even suggested cancelling the shows.”

“He gets it’s for his own good, right?” Flynn asked.

Julie shook her head even though Flynn couldn’t see her. “He knows that but he doesn’t want to let everyone down. He’s been more excited for the tour than the fans have – he doesn’t want any of it to go wrong and this is about as wrong as it could go.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it once the ‘get well soon’ messages start arriving,” Flynn said.

“I think that’ll just make it worse,” Julie countered. “Anyway, it’s fine. There’s nothing we can do. Just make sure everyone knows the next shows are cancelled.”

“You got it, boss. Good luck with Luke.”

“I’ll need it.”

Julie hung up on Flynn and headed back towards Luke. He was still sat up in the bed, looking very sorry for himself as he pouted with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey,” she said softly, crouching down next to his side of the bed. “I’m going to make you some hot honey and lemon water – my mom always made it for me when I got a sore throat. It’ll help, I promise. Is there anything else you want?”

“I want to do the shows,” he said petulantly.

Julie shook her head firmly. “You heard the doctor – none of us are going on any stage for another month. Flynn’s cancelling the shows as we speak.”

Luke looked aghast. “No!”

“Yes. You’re sick, Luke. And think about it; if this were me or Alex or Reggie in your position, what would you say to do?”

“I’d say we should cancel the shows until you got better,” he said as if the answer were obvious, then he seemed to hear his own words and deflated a little. “Fine. I suppose this is for the best. I… I just feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

Julie intertwined their fingers and held his hand tightly. She gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “You aren’t letting anybody down, Luke. It’s not your fault that you’re sick and there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. All that can be done is for you to rest and take your meds so that the next shows we do are as good as they can be. Okay?”

He rolled his eyes sighed, but there was the tiniest smile playing about his lips. “Okay.”

Julie had said it was a bad idea from the very beginning, but the boys had insisted that they’d done it before and it was perfectly safe.

It felt good to be proven right, but less good to be vomited on.

The first problem was that there was definitely not enough room anywhere in their tiny apartment for three grown men to attempt the famous lift from Dirty Dancing. Julie had pointed that out. She had pointed it out almost a dozen times. Every time, Reggie had told her that they didn’t actually need a lot of space, trust me.

The second problem was that their heights simply didn’t add up to a safe lift. Luke and Reggie were of a similar build, but Alex was much taller and there wasn’t really anywhere for him to go – if he held up one of the guys, they’d be held at an angle; if he were the one on top, he would likely crush the other two.

The third and final problem was that none of the boys were dancers and had no training or experience, therefore none of them knew how to do the lift properly and safely. Julie had stretched this argument to its breaking point but the three idiots had not heeded her warning.

And so they had done the lift.

It had started out strong. They had decided that Alex would be the one in the air, so Luke and Reggie had got into position with their hands outstretched and Alex had taken a great running start and leapt at them. To their credit, the boys held Alex in the air for a solid three seconds before Reggie lost his balance and Luke’s grip slipped, and the three of them went tumbling to the ground.

Julie watched in unsurprised horror as Alex fell flat on top of Reggie and scrambled to get off him, while Luke dropped far too close to the dining table and whacked his head on its corner with a grotesque thud.

He was out cold.

Julie muttered a curse and hurried towards him. Alex and Reggie gathered around slowly too, warily looking down at Luke, clearly feeling guilty.

“Luke?” Julie said to the unconscious lump in her lap. He was heavier than he looked – she privately understood why they had decided to lift Alex instead. “Can you hear me, sweetie?”

After a few more minutes, Luke came to, groaning and cradling his head.

“Hey,” Alex said, smiling brightly. “You’re awake! Sorry about that, we–”

Alex didn’t get to finish his sentence because Luke interrupted him by loudly and violently throwing up on Alex’s shoes. A little bit hit Julie’s dress and she quickly yanked the fabric out of the way.

Alex looked at his shoes disappointedly. After a long while he said, “I am going to the bathroom. Either to shower or be sick, I’m not sure yet,” and then disappeared.

Reggie was a deathly shade of green, staring at Luke and the vomit.

“If you don’t like it you can go, Reggie,” Julie said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Reggie nodded and followed Alex out of the room, wide-eyed.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” Julie said. Luke nodded vaguely, his eyes far away, and she led him through the apartment to their bedroom. She only just managed to get him into bed before he started slipping into unconsciousness again.

It was plain as day that Luke had a nasty concussion. Julie tucked him into bed, then switched off the lights and drew the curtains so that it was almost pitch black. She got him an enormous glass of water and readied all the painkillers she could find, as well as grabbing a large bowl so that he didn’t have to run to the bathroom if he needed to be sick again. Then she looked up concussion on her phone – it said that if he’d woken up after being knocked out then he needed to go to hospital; she wasn’t sure how she was meant to get him there now that he was unconscious again.

Julie decided to wait until he woke up again. She laid down beside him on the bed and pressed the gentlest of kisses to his forehead.

“You’re such an idiot,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Julie loved her boys usually, but sometimes she really believed they lacked the common sense necessary for general survival.

“You did what?!”

Luke, Alex, and Reggie looked between each other frantically, stuttering for excuses.

“Uuuuhhhh…”

“Nothing really out of the ordinary, I don’t think.”

“Pretty sure it was actually you who did something they shouldn’t have.”

Julie raised her hands and the boys silenced. She glared at them, half furious and half exasperated.

“Are you seriously telling me – or rather not telling me – that after all the times I specifically told you it would be a bad idea, you went and got hotdogs that were being sold out of the back of an Oldsmobile?”

“In our defence,” Reggie piped up, raising his hand like a kid answering a question in class, “they smelled really good.”

“Wish they’d tasted as good as they smelled,” Luke grumbled. Alex hit him.

“I have never met anyone with less common sense!” Julie yelled, waving her arms. “What is wrong with you? What made you think it’d be a good idea? How did you not think that it was the dodgiest set up for any fast food ever?”

“Relax,” Reggie said, “street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

The highly questionable hotdogs did not, in fact, kill them. However, the next day all three boys were overcome with food poisoning so horrible that Julie simply could not take care of them all by herself.

That morning she sent a quick text to Willie to offload Alex to him: Come and get your dumb boyfriend, he and his idiot friends ate bad hotdogs and got sick, you can take one. Twenty minutes later, Willie showed up to take Alex back to his apartment, an ungodly amount of blankets in his hands when he arrived at the apartment.

Reggie was the least ill – he could pretty much take care of himself and at the very least he wasn’t throwing up everywhere. He stayed on the couch, watching some cartoon on repeat. Julie let him be.

Luke, on the other hand, was quite the task. He was feeling and looking absolutely dreadful, unable to move himself from his bed and being sick whenever he tried to do so much as drink a glass of water. Julie truly had her hands full trying to take care of him.

Despite his protests, she called the studio and cancelled their appointment with Luke today. He was in no fit state to record any hit songs right then; he could hardly even open his mouth without sick coming out of it.

Feeling particularly frazzled, Julie finally allowed herself a little break from rushing around after Luke to relax, just for a moment. She settled herself comfortably onto the bed beside Luke once his sickness had calmed down a bit and fired up Netflix. She could feel his doleful eyes on her as she selected a movie and let it play.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked.

“Are you apologising for being sick or for eating those hotdogs even though I told you not to?” she questioned.

Luke had the good grace to look a little ashamed. “Both.”

Julie shifted a little to wrap her arms around Luke’s midriff. “Don’t apologise for being sick. It is your fault, but don’t say sorry for it. I will accept your apology for disobeying me though.”

Luke rested his head against Julie’s shoulders, shuffling further into the covers. “We should have listened to you, I know. But if you could have just smelled those hotdogs…”

“Yeah, I’m sure they smelled great mingling with the stench of petrol,” Julie deadpanned. “I’m starting to think you three need constant adult supervision.”

“We are adults.”

“That’s why I’m so worried.”

Luke huffed a laugh, but then frowned. “I feel bad. You’re always the one taking care of me. Just once I want to take care of you.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you want me to get sick?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” he said hurriedly, even though Julie had been joking. “I just meant that you do such a good job with this every time. I want to give you a break.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Julie assured him. “But… if I ever do get sick, I’ll make sure to come straight to you and you can take care of me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Luke said with a soft smile.

It had been many years since Luke had been really sick. Julie had naively thought that maybe they’d get lucky and he’d never be sick again. Maybe his laughable immune system had finally caught up and had strengthened itself against what most people could avoid easily.

Wishful thinking.

Flu season was set to ruin Julie’s life. She had woken up one Monday morning and followed her usual routine, heading to her daughter’s bedroom to wake her up for preschool. She had shaken little Rose awake, but the three-year-old had been extremely hot.

“Oh, sweetie,” Julie had said gently. “Are you feeling sick?”

Rose, rubbing her teary tired eyes, had nodded and cried very quietly.

Julie had pulled her into a hug. “Okay, honey. You go back to sleep. It’s alright.”

She laid Rose back down, tucked her back in, and encouraged her to sleep. It took a long time and a lot of tears from Rose, but eventually the little girl drifted back into a fitful slumber. Feeling like all she wanted to do was go to sleep herself, Julie headed back to her own bedroom and shook Luke awake.

“Luke,” she whispered. “Rose is sick. I’m going to call the preschool and tell them she won’t be in, but then I’ve got to get to the studio. You think you can take care of her today?”

Luke sleepily opened his eyes and groaned as he shifted into a sitting position. He held a hand to his head – it looked far too similar to him steadying his balance for Julie’s liking.

She sighed. “Please don’t tell me you’re sick as well?”

Luke tried for a smile. “No, no, I’m alright. I’ll take care of Rose, don’t worry.”

He tried to swing himself out of bed, but Julie didn’t miss the way that the sudden movement made him wince. That and the fact that he clapped a hand to his mouth, the other held over his stomach. Unsteadily, he got to his feet and headed to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back to the bedroom looking sheepish.

“I’m sick too,” he said quietly.

Julie sighed haggardly and looked to the alarm clock on her bedside table. She needed to be at the studio to start her recording session in half an hour, but no part of her was willing to leave her husband and daughter alone while both of them were seeming awfully ill. She quickly made her decision.

“You get back to bed,” she said gently to Luke, taking his hand and leading him back to the bed.

“No, I need to get Rose,” he said, but he grudgingly followed her.

“I’m going to get Rose,” Julie told him as she sat him down and tucked him in. “I’ll bring her here and you can stay snuggled up together. I’ll call the preschool, run some errands, and I’ll check on you both later, okay?”

Luke nodded and lifted Julie’s hand to his lips as if to kiss it, then seemed to think better of it and dropped it. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Julie went back to Rose’s room. The little girl was fast asleep, wriggling around a little as she dreamt, her black curls that were the same as her mother’s spread out over her pillow. Gently, Julie picked her up and held her tightly to her chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as she carried her to her own bedroom.

Luke smiled as Julie entered the room with Rose cradled in her arms. He lifted up the duvet so that Julie could lay Rose down beside him. As she put Rose down, the little girl woke up. She looked around, seeming surprised to have been moved. Then she began to cry very, very quietly.

“Dada,” she wailed, tiny fists clutching at Luke’s pyjama top. “Mama!”

Julie was exhausted. She could see a long day ahead of her, looking after both of the most important people in her life as they battled this disgusting illness. But as she looked at them – tearful little Rose snuggled up with Luke, who had his arms around her tightly, stroking her back soothingly as he whispered shushes – she felt a little bit of that exhaustion melt away, replaced with love.

She perched herself on the bed. “Rosie,” she whispered, tucking one of Rose’s stray hairs behind her ear. “If you quiet down, Mama will sing you a lullaby.”

Luke’s eyes widened. Behind the bloodshot sickness, Julie could see the love and admiration he had for her in them. She beamed at him, and he smiled back as if in awe of her. She felt her heart swell with love.

Rose hushed a little and Julie began the lullaby that her own mother had sung to her when she was little. It was a traditional little rhyme, simple and easy, but the beautiful melismatic notes strung together like bunting made the rising melodies sound ethereally pretty. It had always been one of Julie’s favourite songs.

Rose fell back asleep, huddled in Luke’s arms. Luke reached his hand out of took Julie’s hand.

“You’re perfect,” he mouthed, trying not to wake Rose.

Julie smiled, gently kissed his hand, and finally got up to phone the preschool.

Julie never got sick. It wasn’t in her nature. It just didn’t happen.

Except for that one time.

Julie woke up with the highest temperature the thermometer had ever recorded, her head was spinning like she was on a rollercoaster, and her muscles felt so fatigued that she couldn’t get out of bed.

And yet, she said to Luke, “I swear I’m fine.”

Luke, in a rare moment of knowledge and common sense, didn’t take her word for it. He seemed almost excited for her sickness – Julie wasn’t sure how to feel about that – and he pulled her into a tight hug.

“No,” he said firmly, “you’re sick. I’m going to take care of you.”

And he did. The very next thing Luke did was make Julie up a hot water bottle and bring it to her to help combat her chills, then he brought her three boxes of paracetamol and an entire pitcher of water. He called the doctor’s office for advice, then dragged the entire television set up to his and Julie’s room from downstairs. He got Rose ready for school and before he left the house he assured Julie that he would be back soon and she didn’t need to worry and, “If you need anything, just call me and I’ll come straight back.”

Julie couldn’t help but smile despite her tiredness and awful feeling. “I’ll be fine, Luke. Get Rose to school before she’s late.”

“I love you,” Luke said.

Rose, stood at the end of Julie’s bed, said, “Love you, Mama!”

“I love you, Rosie. Have a good day.”

Julie watched the love of her life and her perfect daughter leave the room and listened to their footsteps heading downstairs. Maybe she felt absolutely terrible and perhaps like she was going to be sick, but when she had someone like Luke looking after her it didn’t feel quite so dreadful.

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ambivalentmarvel · 5 years ago

Text

so the story behind this is that @sreppub arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat.

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces.

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?”

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?”

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front.

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it.

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going.

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement.

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision.

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

#tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #supreme family #iron dad #spider son #fic #tss #ambivalentmarvel #if you tag this st*rker you die by our blade

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

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Chapter 4: Rest Of My Life

Mark Tuan X Reader

Part 4 of the “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” series

Genre: THE SAPPIEST AND CUTEST OF FLUFF (tiniest hints of angst) (horny ass Mark)

Word Count: 14K (Honestly it felt so much longer)

Summary: In every relationship, there are ups and downs. However, after every rainstorm, there is a rainbow. (I fucking hated how cheesy that was I just don’t want to give anything away LOL)

A/N: Finally I am done with this chapter UGH this one took longer to write but yet I feel like it’s the most rushed and repetitive one yet I’m actually not at all happy with how this turned out and there was a lot of fillers in some parts and literally nothing in other parts I just wanted to finish it I’m sorry if it didn’t turn out the way you all would have hoped. By the way, all of your comments on chapter three about who is behind the door made me laugh your minds are so creative I hope you all are happy with who is actually behind the door. I’m both happy and sad that this story is coming to an end (happy because there are so many other stories I can’t wait to write but sad af because I genuinely love this story it’s my first series and I just love how I wrote about Mark in here and the relationship between him and the reader is all I could ever dream about having in a relationship UGH) I don’t know when I’ll get around to writing the fifth chapter but I’m sure it’ll be within the next couple of weeks. With that being said, happy reading!

“Jackson? What are you doing here?”

The last time you saw the older boy was the summer before both him and Mark went off to college. It felt like ages ago—but you were shocked after coming to the realization that it has only been a year. A lot has happened since their graduation; the last thing you heard from Mark was that Jackson was planning on studying abroad in China.

Out of Mark’s entire group of friends, you found yourself gravitating towards him the most. Although, he gave you no choice to do otherwise. Jackson Wang was a golden retriever in human form. Anyone and everyone who entered his path, whether it was accidentally or on purpose would become extremely close with him—and it was usually because of his persistence to make and maintain as many friendships as possible. You were shocked to say the least as your eyes landed on his broadened figure.

Puberty just so happened to favor Mark and his friends—they were all so good looking and very much in amazing shape. Jackson was currently shirtless and if it were anyone else in your shoes, their cheeks probably would’ve turned pink at the sight of his bare chest. You however, were pretty much used to being comfortable around him, Yugyeom, BamBam and Jinyoung.

When it came to their group of friends, you were pretty much desensitized with any of their antics; not wearing clothing was one of them. It came to the point where Mark never allowed you around them if there was a chance they would remove any item of their clothing—but it was not as much because of jealousy; it was more so because the guys would purposely try to get on Mark’s nerves as much as possible.

Most of your best times in high school were because of the wild and rowdy group of guys and you didn’t realize just how much you’ve missed all of them until they all went their separate ways. Honestly, it’s been a while since you’ve heard from any of the guys—but college took up more time than high school did and the four of them, along with your ex-boyfriend all decided to go to school out of state.

They were all so excited when it was time to start filling out applications to all the different universities around the world; Yugyeom and BamBam shocked you the most when you found out that they actually got accepted to what you considered were elite colleges. If those two could get in to college, anybody could. As much as you wanted to laugh at the many memories of how both boys would never fail to get in trouble for either being late to class, or for getting caught with stealing a bunch of condoms from behind your teacher’s desk, it only occurred to you that you just referred to Mark as your ex-boyfriend.

Not once was there ever a time in the duration of your relationship where you would have ever put Mark in the same sentence as the term “ex”. Even when the two of you had your disagreements or unnecessary arguments, there was nothing that would have caused you think like that. Was he really your ex-boyfriend? The two of you were on a break; or so you believed. You explained the difference between a break up and just taking a break.

You didn’t want to break up with Mark; he was your person—your soulmate, your best friend. He was in your life for more than half of it, you weren’t going to give up on him that easily. Both you and your relationship needed time to heal in order for you to be able to continue loving Mark in the ways that you used to. There was not a doubt in your mind that you still loved Mark.

No matter what were to happen down the road, your heart would always belong to him. He was still the only man you wanted to settle down, start a family and spend the rest of your life together with. But you couldn’t help to think negative thoughts like Mark finding solace in someone else. What if this break took a toll on his mental health and he felt the need to confide in another girl? What if he felt that the only way he could stop crying over you was for him to move on and start seeing someone else?

Deep down, you knew Mark would never do anything that would purposely make you sad or go against you in any way. He was the type to talk things out before making any rash decisions. However, it was only human of you to feel as if he was so frustrated with you to the point where he wanted to do something to hurt you just as much as he claimed you were doing to him. Did he consider you his ex-girlfriend?

Was there someone who caught his eye in the last month who made him realize there were many other girls out there? That, instead of moping around and waiting for you to be ready to come back to him, someone else could help fill the void? You didn’t know how to describe the pain you were now feeling at the thought of Mark no longer being in love with you; you’ve been worrying and overthinking about this weeks before initiating the break, and he was never around to make you feel or think otherwise.

Why did your relationship have to become so complicated? Why couldn’t things just have stayed the way they were before Mark left? Why did his efforts lessen knowing that it was going to take twice the amount of time and patience from both of you to continue and maintain a healthy relationship? When did he come to the realization that you were no longer a priority he considered all that important?

“I should be asking you the same thing—although, it’s nice seeing you again. You look seemingly beautiful as always. Albeit a bit messy with more dark circles than the last time we saw each other. It’s a given, but trust me—he looks even more terrible.”

You looked up at him in curiosity of his confession, but you were well aware that Mark probably told him everything. Mark and Jackson were practically brothers. The only person Mark would confide in and admit all his deepest, darkest secrets to other than you was the charming boy standing in front of you. He looked as though he wanted to pull you in for a hug, but he was also pretty hesitant not knowing what you were feeling or thinking. Jackson gave you a knowing look before letting a small smirk rise upon his face.

“Your lover boy is the definition of a lightweight. Mark can’t drink for shit. It only took two beers for him to spill everything to me after he came back from his trip—don’t look at me like that. Yes, we drink. It’s all apart of the college experience y/n. Anyways, I know it’s not my place to meddle in your relationship, but I have never seen Mark so depressed in my many years of knowing him for. It’s obvious this “break” you asked him for is slowly killing him. The love he has for you is something people can only dream about ever experiencing in their lifetime. I caught him going through a photo album that he made of pictures and videos of you and he wouldn’t stop crying until I forcefully took away his phone. Look, I’m not trying to guilt trip you or anything and I’m not making up any excuses for him. I’m sure being away from each other is already hard as it is—even worse since you barely get to hear from him but he does have his reasons for being so absent these days. He said he told you he got a job in order to surprise you that week but you didn’t allow him to finish explaining himself.”

Jackson allowed you inside of the dorm room and you were actually pretty surprised at how clean it was. Sure, Mark was always very tidy and liked to keep his space neat; but witnessing Jackson’s tendencies of picking food from up off the ground and eating it right after, you just assumed he wasn’t the type to care about cleanliness and hygiene.

“Wow—nice place. Mark showed me a couple of times over Skype but it’s different actually being here.” He gave you his signature cheeky smile before motioning for you to sit down on the couch.

“Thanks. It was actually his idea to be roommates. I guess he wasn’t all too fond of his previous one and when I decided to transfer over to New York, he offered to let me move in with him. Now, back to what I was saying. For months, Mark kept sulking over how much he missed you and how he was going to do whatever he could to see you again sooner rather than later; so he got a job at this coffee shop right across of campus. Everyone knows Mark hates coffee—but it was the only place that was 24 hours and would work alongside his schedule. Poor guy was barely getting any sleep for the few months leading up to his trip but it didn’t seem to bother him. He was just so stoked to reunite with his “favorite person in the entire world” that he didn’t care how exhausted he was from juggling school, work and his athletics. Our baseball coach even pulled him aside and told him that he needed to get better with managing his priorities or he would kick him off the team. I swear, the night he returned from California, my heart broke for him. He looked so wrecked y/n—but he didn’t say a word. We all know how much of a crybaby he can be, but it was a different kind of sadness. His eyes were so bloodshot and puffy yet they held no emotion in them. He also had no appetite at all and that’s obviously not like him. Boy can eat. I’m not saying you should completely forget how he’s been treating you, but please forgive him. I know he has your best interest at heart. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, anyone with eyes can see just how much you mean to him. Ah—I didn’t mean to make you cry; honestly you and Mark are perfect for each other. I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t even feel tears fall down your cheeks, but it was inevitable. Every single thing that he said tugged on your heartstrings.

Did you get lonely while I was away—working my fucking ass off at a job I hate in order to save enough money so I could come and see you?

For the entire month, Mark’s anger-filled speech from that night replayed over and over in your mind and you felt like such a terrible person now that you understood why he’s been so distant. He tried to tell you, but you just wouldn’t listen. You were so frustrated—so heartbroken in that moment and you wanted him to know the damage that was done to your relationship because he wasn’t as involved in your life as he used to.

Hearing that he was barely getting any sleep nor having any legitimate free time to himself just so that he could save up money to visit you made your stomach sink. You couldn’t even imagine how hard it must’ve been for him. He flew all the way to California to surprise you, only to be met with the idea of a break. It was probably very heartbreaking for him. He worked all those hours—probably put up with a lot of assholes and having to be on his feet for long periods of the day only to find out that his girlfriend needed time to heal from the pain he’s been causing her.

You never felt so angry with yourself—but at the same time, you wouldn’t have known. He never said anything. If things were going to end the way you were hoping they would today, then you would make sure the two of you worked on your communication. Jackson returned back with a box of tissues and a bottle of water to which you thanked him politely and wiped away a few stray tears. As much as you were enjoying his presence, you were there for a reason and Jackson could tell with the way you were looking around the room as if you were expecting someone—Mark—to come out from one of the rooms.

“He’s at work. Don’t worry, he cut back his hours so that he could put more effort in his studies, but he should be done here pretty soon. I better go—I’m going to need some time to find someone who will let me crash on their couch for tonight—or however long you plan on staying here.”

“Why would you need somewhere else to sleep—“ he gave you an incredulous look while playfully raising his brows.

“Oh trust me, we all know what is going to happen between you and Mark once you both kiss and make up. The next thing I need is not being able to get any sleep because of how loud I know it’s going to be—ow! What? Naughty, kinky make up sex is the best! I mean, I’ll stay if I get to join in on the night’s festivities; but we all know how extremely territorial and overprotective Mark is when it comes to you so I’ll let you both have your fun. But don’t have too much fun—we already got noise complaints two months ago when Yugyeom and BamBam came down for spring break and we all got drunk while playing Mario kart. I’ll take my leave, I actually have some assignments I need to work on. Feel free to make yourself at home—oh, and please—no sex on the couch. This is where I take most of my naps, so keep all the raunchiness in the bedroom. I’ll see you later y/n. There’s some pizza in the oven, my room is down the hall on the left, Mark’s is on the right and we actually both have our own bathrooms in our rooms. You’re better off using his, I wasn’t expecting any guests so—yeah. Good luck!”

He pulled you in to a quick hug before grabbing his keys and making his way out the door. Although you couldn’t wait to finally see Mark again, you would have rather Jackson had stayed with you until he did arrive home. You swore your heart was about ready to jump out of your chest while waiting for him. There were so many different scenarios—more negative ones than positive running through your mind about how things were going to play out. If what Jackson said about Mark was true, you were confident that he would take you back with open arms.

However, you were afraid that he was no longer as adamant on fixing things. You were afraid that with your situation with Mark—no matter how many memories the two of you had together, no matter how many years you’ve spent together, no matter how much history the two of you shared—if his heart was no longer in it, there was nothing you could do. Instead of mending your relationship, what if this break only made Mark realize that he didn’t want to put up with your brash and cold exterior?

People change; sometimes they grow apart—what if it was too late to come back together again? Although Jackson did tell you to relax and unwind, you didn’t feel like you had the right to. You’ve never been here before and you were never the type of person to just roam around someone else’s personal area, even if the person was someone you’ve spent over a decade of your life with. A part of you couldn’t help but grow curious as to what Mark’s bedroom looked like.

Did he style it the way he did at his last dorm? Did it look like his room back in California that you’d spent many hours playing video games and doing your homework in? It felt extremely awkward just sitting there waiting for him to walk through the door. You should’ve asked Jackson exactly what time Mark planned on arriving home so you could have better prepared yourself for when he were to finally walk through the doors. Instead of waiting on the couch in agony and doing nothing, you got up and began the search for Mark’s room. You intended on going in to his bathroom and making sure it wasn’t obvious that you had previously cried.

When you first walked in to his room, you immediately took in how clean it was. His walls were white, but you assumed they were already like that before he even moved in. His bed sheets were navy blue and so were his curtains. There was a tv hung up on the wall with a PlayStation and a couple of games set up right under. You decided to take a quick peek around before finally going in to his bathroom to freshen up. As you continued to browse throughout his room, you saw something in the corner of your eye.

Right above his bed frame was a picture board. You absentmindedly found yourself crawling on to his bed to get a better look at all the photos; there were a couple with his family, some with his teammates, a few with his friends back in high school—but most of the photos were with, or of you. There was even a photo of the two of you sitting on his nightstand. This photo however, had a note attached to it. It was always and will forever be you. This time, you allowed the tears to fall freely—you couldn’t give less of a shit about what you looked like anymore.

Always.

You were and would forever be his always. You didn’t care that you had to stay up late just to hear from him—you didn’t care that you only ever saw him physically during the summertime or during the holidays. You didn’t care that all the friends you had made in the last year would brag about the many dates their boyfriends have been taking them on. None of that mattered. Mark loved you—even after all the heartbreak he suffered in the last month because of you, it just proved that he was willing to do anything and everything for you.

“Can I help you find something?”

The sudden interruption caused you to let out a muffled scream. When you turned around to look at him, you had to force yourself not to practically jump at him now that you were fully aware of the many sacrifices he had made just to make you happy. However, you didn’t want to startle him if you were to throw your arms around him. For the first time—Jackson was right. Well, sort of. Mark looked devastatingly handsome; but it was something you were used to. God obviously had his favorites and Mark Tuan was one of them. He did however, look as though he’s been crying for days. He also looked tired beyond belief. You heart was begging for you to go up to him and pull him in to your embrace while leaving as many kisses all along his jaw and neck—but your affection and the need to touch him was just going to have to wait.

“Hey. Sorry, I—I came in here to use the bathroom and I—I didn’t mean to intrude or anything—I can go back outside—“

“No, no. You’re totally fine. I um—I’m sorry if I scared you. How—how have you been? You look great by the way. You haven’t been waiting long have you?”

The laugh of disbelief was at the back of your throat. Standing in front of you was the boy you’ve been in love with for more years than you could count on both of your hands yet—it felt as though you were talking to a stranger. You could tell by his body language and the way he was scratching the back of his neck that he was flustered.

Whenever Mark would get shy around you, it was always a sight to behold. His cheeks would turn the brightest of pinks, he would gnaw on his bottom lip and rock himself back and forth on the heels of his feet. Normally, he would act this way after a passionate night of love making or simply when you would introduce him as the love of your life to one of your family members. In other situations, you would have found his timid exterior to have been extremely adorable, but as of right now, it was suffocating you. You knew you were the reason why he was acting so nervous; so cautious because you were sure he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and scaring you away.

“Jackson let me in about half an hour ago, but it’s okay. He was quite the host until he left to go “study”. I’m surprised at how tidy you’ve been able to maintain this place; or should I say—I’m surprised Jackson has been doing his share and cleaning up. I really like it.”

He thanked you softly before bringing his attention to the floor. Mark was always very confident whenever he spoke; so seeing him uncertain and unsure about how to approach you wasn’t a sight you were quite used to. Nor was it one you ever wanted to get used to. The atmosphere was filled with uncomfortable tension that you wanted so badly to disappear. Whether it was because you missed him more than you wanted to admit out loud, or because it was evident that he wanted to make his way toward you but didn’t know if he was allowed to; you found yourself taking the initiative in getting up from his bed and wasted no time cupping both of his cheeks with your hands and kissing him as if your life depended on it.

You wanted him to know just how sorry you were for everything he had to go through in the last month because of how stubborn you’ve been. As soon as he felt your lips smash against his own, he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and pulled you as close to his body that was physically possible. His kisses were rough as his hands roamed your body. God, how did you go so long without the beautiful boy in front of you? Everything in your life felt right again. Being in Mark’s arms while his tongue mapped his trace along your neck was an otherworldly sensation. You were thousands of miles away from California, but you’ve never felt more at home than you did right now. Mark was your home—your favorite place to escape; a breath of fresh air. You were right where you needed to be.

“Mmm—Mark—I’m so sorry baby. Jackson told me everything. I should have listened to you—I should’ve allowed you to explain yourself. If I knew the actual reason why you weren’t communicating with me as often, I wouldn’t have been so hard on you. I would’ve been more understanding—“

“Nope—I won’t be having any of that. No apologies baby. Yes, I was exhausted beyond belief, but I should have tried harder for us—for you. I was working hard in order to finally be with you again, but I completely pushed back the purpose of why I was doing all of this; why I was practically going days with only five hours of sleep in total. Why I was typing out essays while on my breaks at work. Why I was taking down espresso shots like they were vodka shots—both of which are completely nasty by the way. You are my purpose baby. Everything I do is with your happiness in mind. I know how much my absence has been affecting you because waking up every morning without you next to me was like a fucking chore. It was just as bad for me as it was for you. God, if there’s anything I hate more than college-level calculus, it’s having to live without you—the reason for my existence. Give me your hand.” You did as you were told; placing your hand in his all the while blushing when he brought it up to his chest.

“Feel that? It’s racing—I haven’t felt my heartbeat this fast since the night you told me you wanted to take a break. That had to be the worst night of my entire life baby. I couldn’t stop beating myself up about your disheartened facial expression when you told me I needed to get my act together. I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I cried every single fucking day because I couldn’t stop thinking this was the end between us. I never ever want to go one day without you. I know—I’ve been a terrible boyfriend to you and I hope you know you didn’t deserve it at all y/n. There were days I wanted to quit my job because I hated it so much and because I’m so exhausted, but then I’d take a look at my phone screen with the picture I took of you that one morning when we had a food fight in the kitchen and you got peanut butter in your hair and all over your face and I just—it made me remember what I was doing it all for. It felt like forever that we got to do something fun like that—it’s been forever since I truly felt any ounce of happiness. I feel like I’m living, but not at all existing whenever I’m away from you. I know you told me not to regret my decision in choosing to go away for college, but I do. I regret choosing to ever be where you aren’t. Fuck, you don’t understand just how hard it was for me having to go back home that night thinking that you no longer wanted anything to do with me; and even if you said he was just a friend—that guy, whatever his stupid name is—“

“His name is Jaebeom—

“Yeah yeah—whatever. That obviously doesn’t matter. It’s my last name that you’re taking one day so I don’t care what his name or anybody else’s name is. I know you would never cheat on me or do anything to jeopardize our relationship, but seeing the two of you together really struck a nerve with me. I don’t know what he is to you, but I’m sure he must be someone meaningful to you for you to go to prom with him. I couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky he is to be around you all the time, how he gets to hear that vibrant and contagious laughter of yours, how he gets to see your radiant and breathtaking smile and how that should have been me being all cute and matching with you. How I should have been there, flaunting you off to everyone. God, you looked so beautiful that night y/n—but you looked so fucking sad when you looked at me. When I came back to New York, I didn’t want to do anything. At all. I called in sick from work, I took a break from baseball and I even missed a couple of classes but I couldn’t give less of a shit. I felt so empty—physically and mentally I felt numb. I wanted to call you; trust me when I say I found my fingers hovering over your contact many times. I continuously checked up on your social media to see how you were doing—if you were okay, if you were eating all your meals and getting some rest. If—if you were suffering without me the way I was with you. I’m nothing without you. Absolutely nothing.”

He brought his thumb up to your cheek and gently brushed away a tear you didn’t even notice fall from your eyelids. You were well aware that Mark loved you more than you could even accept that you deserved. There were a couple of times you question his love for you; not hearing from him made you feel as though you weren’t as important to him and just that thought alone made you feel as if his love for you faltered. Hearing him confess to you what this past month has been like for him just confirmed that you meant a lot more to him than you felt you did. This break only made you realize that you could no longer be without him—you no longer wanted to put him through any more stress or sadness.

“Damnit Mark—how do you—fuck—you have such a way with words. You’ve always have. I love you so, so much. More than I ever get around to telling you. I’m so sorry—don’t give me that look babe let me apologize. I should have tried harder to see how you were doing. I know being a student athlete is already so frustrating and I just felt like you didn’t need something else to worry about. I know you’re probably going to disagree and get mad at me for feeling this way, but I just felt like such a burden to you. You already have so many responsibilities, your relationship should be the least of your worries. As much as I love surprises, please Mark—I want you to be honest with me next time. We need to work on our communication. Don’t get me wrong, I am honestly so grateful that you got a job in order to make money to come and visit me and I apologize if you feel like it was a waste—if my reaction that night wasn’t the one you were expecting, but I just didn’t know how to react. I was genuinely happy to see you—or at least deep down I knew I was. My facial expression was the complete opposite—but it’s because I felt as though you were just so far away. You were right in front of me, yet I couldn’t recognize you. My mind couldn’t process that you were real—that you were actually there and not a figment of my silly imagination. Deciding to take a break took weeks to come to that decision. I couldn’t stop thinking that I was no longer a priority to you, so I just stopped trying entirely.”

You found yourself wrapping your arms around his waist and released a soft sigh before smashing your cheek up against his chest. This was the first time in a long time that you actually felt genuinely content. Mark’s arms always made you feel so safe; so secure and so at ease. He didn’t hesitate to place his chin on the top of your head while tightening his already unyielding hold around your hips.

“I missed you more than I can explain in words. I meant what I said Mark—I’ve loved you since I was eight years old. I’ve loved you before I even knew what love was and I’m going to love you, for as long as time permits me to. Forever, hopefully. You’re my best friend Mark. I don’t care what happens to me or where I end up in the future. As long as you’re right by my side, I’ll be living a life that I’ve always wanted—that people can only dream of experiencing. We’re going to be just fine my love.” He brought his hand down to your jaw and lifted up your chin so that you were making direct eye contact with him. “You got that right baby. How long do I have you for?”

“A little over a week.” He gave you a knowing look; his eyes were filled with mischief. You were well aware most of your time in New York was going to be spent showing him just how much you loved him and the idea sent warmth to both your chest and in between your thighs.

“Stay right here, I’m going to have to text Jackson about finding a place to stay—“

“He’s already on it. He wants to give us our time to enjoy one another, just the two of us. In his words, he doesn’t want to miss out on his sleep because apparently you and I are going to be “too loud”. I have no idea what he’s talking about though. I have no intention on being noisy while I’m here—“

Mark was quick to lift you up and hoisted you on top of his left thigh; his movements were quick. Soon you were being thrown on top of his bed as he began leaving sloppy and all but gentle kisses all around your bare skin. He lowered himself on top of you, pressing his pelvis right on top of yours in attempts to let you know what he had planned for the both of you in just a few moments.

“I went four months without making love to my beautiful baby. You know how many times I’ve found myself jacking off to photos of you? I miss when we used to have cyber sex—fuck why did we ever stop? I can still picturing you fingering yourself, pretending it was me. You looked so fucking sexy and although it wasn’t the same as when you suck me off or ride my cock like the professional cowgirl you are, I came in less than five minutes just hearing your breathless moans as you tried to get yourself off. Trust me when I say this, you won’t be getting any sightseeing completed at all while you’re here. I’m going to make sure your legs are practically jello once I show you just how much I’ve missed this perfect body of yours. I don’t know if Jackson told you, but we’re actually on probation for being loud because of BamBam and Yugyeom. I’m confident I’m going to get kicked out here with how loud I’m going to make you sing for me. I can’t wait to rail the shit out of you baby. This pussy is mine. You are mine. Now, sit back y/n and enjoy the ride.”

Mark wasn’t lying when he said he had every intention on making sure you were immobile. The two of you relished in your love for hours; once you both came down from your highs after one round, the hunger and desire for one another was too strong to quit. You don’t think you’d be able to look in his fridge without remembering how he had you pressed right up against the cool metal, ramming himself inside of you from behind. Four hours later, you both decided to take a break. You had almost two weeks together; you didn’t want to practically be bedridden before you actually got the chance to really spend time exploring New York City together.

“You never cease to amaze me you know that? Fuck, I could love on your body for the entire day if you’d let me. I guess not having me inside of you for so long made you even more tight. I think your boobies got bigger too—ow! Why do you always get so abusive every single time I appreciate these beautiful breasts of yours? If you’re going to be like this about your mounds, you should hear how obsessed I am with your vagina—“

“Say that word one more time and you won’t get anywhere near it for the rest of my stay.”

He gave you the most adorable pout before pulling you on top of him. Even if the two of you had just finished having passionate and steamy sex, you could feel your cheeks warm up being pressed up against his bare and sweaty body. He left a wet kiss on the juncture of your neck and looked at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes.

“I don’t know babe, i could’ve sworn you were begging me to bury my cock deeper inside of you and to eat you out like I mean it less than an hour ago. You’re just as much a nymphomaniac as I am. I honestly can just stay in bed with you for the rest of the evening and just do nothing if that’s alright with you. We could get cleaned up and order some take out. Or if you have even just a tiny bit of energy, we can go out for an hour or so and just enjoy each other’s company.”

As much as you wanted to go exploring, it was just going to have to wait till tomorrow. You hid your face in the crook of his neck; trying to absorb as much of his warmth as possible before humming softly against his jaw.

“Let’s stay in. I just want to enjoy this intimate moment with you as much as I can.” He smiled at you lovingly while he brought his fingers in to your hair.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I want to take advantage of every moment you are naked—as much as I missed you, I don’t miss the hitting. Did you get stronger since the last time I saw you? You’re like bionic now.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at his sarcasm and propped yourself on your elbows so that you could get a better look at him. Every time you would look at Mark, it amazed you just how much he changed physically since you first met him yet his childlike personality never faltered. If anything, he became more and more like a child as he got older.

“Mark.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to marry you one day.”

Knowing that he was the type to joke around a lot, you were expecting a “matter of a fact” kind of response. However, you weren’t expecting for him to pull you down and reconnect your lips together. Right as you could feel the fire building up in your bones with his feather like yet protective touch, he leaned away and looked up with you with a glint in his eye.

“Hey—I’m the one supposed to be telling you that!”

You yelped when he all but gently squeezed your butt. The thought of marrying the beautiful boy underneath you has been on your mind since the day he told you he had his mom take out the raisins from her oatmeal cookies because you weren’t a fan of them. Sometimes, your relationship felt too good to be true. Even if you hit a bump in the road, it only made you realize that no matter what were to happen between the two of you, your love for Mark and his love for you would never falter. He was everything in a significant other most girls could only dream about having in theirs. Mark Tuan was an ethereal being; his name was forever engraved on to your heart.

“I don’t know when exactly—maybe when we’re just a little bit older, but I can’t wait to marry you y/n. You’ve had my heart for over a decade now—it’s yours for the next ten decades.”

“That’s a hundred years Mark. I don’t think either of us are going to live that long—“

“You always seem ruin such romantic moments. I’m telling you that I plan on loving you for the rest of my life. I said what I said my silly girl. You’re stuck with me forever.”

You beamed up at his words and the two of you continued to lie there in silence; just basking in each other’s presence. To your dismay, Mark flipped your bodies so now he was on top of you but before you could say anything about this new position, you quickly picked up on his now furrowed brows and the way he looked as if he was deep in thought.

“Hey, everything okay?”

He gave you a sad smile and nodded hesitantly but you could tell something was obviously bothering him. Just a few moments ago, he was nipping at your jaw while grazing all too close to your core—and now he looked as if he was on the verge of breaking down. What exactly just so happened to pop in to his mind that was causing him so much distress.

“Mark—we said we would work on our communication. I know something is bothering you. Talk to me baby.”

“It’s nothing really—well—God, I feel so stupid for having to ask you this. That Jaebeom kid, he uh—I wouldn’t be surprised if he did I mean look at you—but, he didn’t happen to have a crush on you did he?”

Talking about Jaebeom was bound to happen sooner or later. Images of his angry expression when he saw the younger boy walk outside in attempts to look for you came rushing back like the night of prom was just yesterday. There was no doubt your boyfriend was a jealous person. You never understood where his jealousy came from; you never gave him a reason to be jealous nor did you think that you attracted anyone other than him until Jaebeom confessed his feelings for you.

He would get extremely territorial whenever you would hang out with him and his friends. BamBam and Jackson were notorious for being a little too touchy for Mark’s liking when it came to you. Sometimes they would reach for your hand or interlock your arms together in order to get under his skin, but Mark never let them get away with it. You could still remember the way your heart soared when he told you that he was only jealous of other guys because he had a fear that one day, someone might walk in to your life and make you realize that there are more people in this world other than Mark that could get you feeling the way he thought only he was capable of. Your boyfriend was well aware that he was the one that you loved more than anyone else in your life—but it was only natural for his curiosity to get the best of him.

“He did—he confessed to me right after he asked me to prom. I was quick to tell him I was in a relationship and he was very understanding about it.”

Mark took in a deep breath and waited a couple of seconds before asking you the question that he’s been dying to know the answer to for the last month.

“You uh—did you ever have feelings for him at one point? I won’t be mad; I mean, I’ve been absent. I’m sure spending time with someone and getting their attention could cause some feelings to develop. This question has been on my mind since that night. It’s not that I’m questioning your feelings for me—I know in my heart that you love me but I couldn’t find it in myself to stop thinking negatively.”

A part of you wanted to lie in order to spare his feelings. He may have said he wouldn’t be mad if you were to tell him that yes—you had feelings for Jaebeom at one point or at least felt like you did; but this was Mark you were talking about. He would be devastated to hear that your heart wavered even just for a split second and you didn’t want to do that to him. The idea of hurting him sent a painful sensation to your chest. Mark was nothing less than perfect to you in all your years of knowing him for.

These last few months might not have been ideal and honestly you could do without them, but at the same time—the turmoil was a blessing in disguise. Maybe the two of you needed this distance; this break in order to come to the acceptance that neither of you were going anywhere. However, the realist in you was well aware that there was no point in lying.

For all you knew, Mark probably felt it in either his heart or his mind that you could have at least felt something towards Jaebeom. It wasn’t impossible; it was common for people in relationships to harbor feelings for someone else. Especially someone they’re close to and spend most of their time with. He hated the thought that you began liking Jaebeom more and more every day considering that your communication levels weren’t all that good. What person in their right mind would genuinely be okay with knowing that their significant other had someone else on their mind—someone that they saw almost every single day? Mark wasn’t too sure just how close the two of you were and he wasn’t too sure if he wanted to know.

“At one point, yes. I did. But let me start off by saying this; just because I felt like I had some kind of feelings for him at one point doesn’t mean I loved you any less. Like you said, it could have been because he was giving me the attention I wasn’t receiving from you. He was taking care of me; he held me on the days that I cried because of school and our failing relationship. He’d buy me pastries if he saw that I wasn’t eating and he’d buy me coffee now and then—but I don’t have any romantic feelings for him. I guess I just really missed you; I missed you like fucking crazy Mark and for the time being, Jaebeom was helping me take my mind off of your absence. I will admit, I felt terrible when I told him I didn’t reciprocate his feelings only because he’s such an amazing friend, but no matter how kind he is, how much he cares for me or how attractive he is—“

“He wasn’t all that good looking honestly he was a solid three on a scale from one to ten you’re just saying that to make me jealous—“ You brought your hand up to his mouth in order to silence him but he licked a stripe along your skin.

“Will you stop interrupting me? I’m trying to tell you that there’s nobody else for me but you asshole. I’m too blinded by the love I have for you to even look or think about anybody else. Jaebeom is an amazing friend, but that is all he’s ever going to be to me. You consumed every single part of me; like the ocean. I feel like I’m drowning in your love, but I never want to be saved. I just want to keep losing myself in you and the love you have for me. I’m honestly so glad Jackson is a very considerate friend—I got horny just thinking about how much I love you.”

His laughter immediately filled up the room; a sound you were going to take advantage of for the next week and a half. It wasn’t the same hearing it through a screen—it was much more vibrant and full of excitement and it made your tummy swarm with butterflies.

“You’re insatiable, what am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want to.”

When the two of you were finally done making up for lost time up against almost every surface in his dorm, you finally gave in and tapped out. You could feel your eyes closing and sleep was right around the corner ready to take over you completely.

“Should I start ordering us some food?” You slowly shook your head and made yourself comfortable pressed up against his chest. He began leaving soft kisses in your hair while dragging his fingers along the expanse of your back.

“I’m so tired. I think the jet lag is catching up to me.”

“No, I think it’s the six hours of nonstop sex we just accomplished. But that’s fine—maybe I’ll wake up earlier and prepare you some breakfast in bed. Or, I can have you for breakfast in bed—almost ten years of this abuse you would think I would know when to prepare myself. Mmm—I love you y/n, I’m so fucking happy you’re here. Thank you for coming back to me.”

In the two weeks that you were in New York for, Mark took you to almost every single place you’ve been wanting to go to. You didn’t think you were capable of walking so many miles; especially since you were sore practically every single day. Mark wasn’t lying when he said he planned on having you each day you were there for. On the days he had work or practice, you’d stay back at his apartment and just watch a couple of movies or play some video games on his Xbox. Sometimes you would go around with Jackson; sightseeing and shopping for some gifts to bring back home.

When Mark finished his duties or on the days he was off, he would take you exploring throughout the city, showing you everything New York had to offer. He made sure to keep you energized by purchasing you coffee right before the two of you were to return back to his apartment. He didn’t know when the next time he was going to see you would be, so he wanted to make every moment with you count—even if that meant having to stay up till the wee hours of the morning to have him blow your back out.

Unfortunately, just like the last time you were in New York, your visit was quick to end just as immediate as it was to arrive. 24 hours seemed to fly by in a matter of minutes any time it was spent with Mark yet they seemed to drag on whenever the two of you were apart. The tears wouldn’t stop falling from your face when he brought you to the airport. He held you close to his body and placed his head against yours as he tried his best to keep your cries soft—not wanting to bother the cab driver.

He was also secretly tearing up himself; he had one of the best weeks of his life with you and now he had to let you go again. If he had the choice, he’d be heading back to California with you permanently. It was selfish of him, but he even contemplated on hiding your luggage or even stealing your plane ticket so that you’d have no choice but to stay with him. Once the driver pulled up to the airport, he helped you take your luggage from out of the trunk while you and Mark said your goodbyes to each other.

“Hey—baby, we’re going to be just fine. I mean it this time. I’m gonna do better for you. I don’t care how tired I am—hell, you’re probably going to get tired of my constant phone calls and text messages but I promise you that I’m going to do my best to make sure to put in just as much effort in to this relationship as you do. I know how it feels to lose you and fuck, I never want to feel something so painful like that ever again. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to go without having you with me—so expect me to come make a trip to visit you here soon. I love you y/n—God, I can’t even describe to you just how much I love you. Love isn’t even a good enough word to describe what I feel for you—what you mean to me. Fuck, I’m going to miss you so much. Let me know as soon you land and when you get home please? Take good care of yourself and I expect at least three nudes a day—fine two—y/n I’m trying to lighten the mood you know I hate seeing you so sad—I also hate not getting to show my love and appreciation for your perfect body—just wait till I get my hands on you next time I won’t go easy on you. I’ll see you soon baby. I love you.”

Leaving Mark was always the hardest thing you had to do other than getting used to looking through a computer and phone screen to see him when you just had him around physically to hold to and to kiss you. He kept his promise in working on and bettering his communication with you. Everything slowly started falling in place for you and you were more than happy with how your relationship was going. Mark made a few trips to California during his downtime.

Although most of his time was spent going on cute little dates with you and just spending quality time together, he did meet up with some of his friends from high school to catch up and made sure to visit his parents a couple of times. He even asked to meet Jaebeom properly; he wanted to apologize for being such an ass towards him on the night of your junior prom and he wanted to thank him for taking care of you while he was away. Mark still was trying to accept the idea of your friendship with Jaebeom, but he trusted you with every fiber of his being.

You were surprised that it didn’t take either of them too long to find some common ground; their main purpose both being your well-being and your happiness was something they had in common. Mark actually found it quite interesting that Jaebeom was a dancer and they went back and forth about their passion for crime investigation documentaries. It wasn’t something that happened overnight; Jaebeom was still upset with Mark for being the reason behind your tears, but he was well aware that it wasn’t his business to get involved in.

At the end of the day, you were just grateful that Mark accepted your friendship with Jaebeom for what it was because you knew you would of fell apart in these last few months if it weren’t for him. Everyone in your life—your boyfriend, your parents, your teachers and some of your friends who have graduated never failed to remind you that senior year would practically flash before your eyes. It had to be the best year of your educational career so far; there were so many different activities for seniors to participate in which Jaebeom coerced you in to doing a lot of things you would have never saw yourself signing up for. Flag football, tug-of-war, paintball, spirit week, homecoming; you were never one to find yourself in a situation where you’d get involved in school activities, but it was your last year in high school and you wanted to make the most of it.

At one point, you didn’t care about anything other than wanting to hurry up and graduate already. You didn’t want to be the kind of person to make a decision for your life based on your significant other, but you wanted to be with Mark. He was definitely speechless when you told him you applied to the university of New York—only because he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do that for him, even if deep down he was secretly hoping you would. The university was amazing nonetheless, but your boyfriend knew there were many other colleges that had better programs for the field you were interested in joining. However, he was extremely thrilled and very outspoken about how excited he was when you opened the letter of acceptance in to the university.

Right after you received the letter, you and Mark began planning on how he would let Jackson down gently about having to move out. As much as you couldn’t wait to finally get to have him around, you didn’t want to kick Jackson out of their dorm. It was just as much his place as it was Mark’s. That’s when you came up with the idea to move in to an apartment together. It was still a few months away, but Mark couldn’t keep in his excitement at the thought of waking up to your beautiful face every morning and getting to go to bed every night with you wrapped in his embrace.

He began the search of apartments in the area of the university so that it would be easier for the both of you to walk rather than to waste money on transportation. The months came and went; studying for tests on top of working almost every day in order to save up for after graduation took up most of your time. Mark was very good about calling you right before he’d head out for school or once he arrived back after work or practice. It was hard to believe that you ever questioned his love for you seeing as how he could not stop reminding you that he couldn’t wait to spend forever with you.

The last month of your senior year arrived before you could even comprehend that you were only a month away from becoming a high school graduate—and so did your boyfriend. Although you told him time and time again that you would prefer he didn’t surprise you, your soul practically left your body when you returned home from work one day to find him sitting on your bed like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Mark, babe what the fuck are you doing here?”

You wasted no time in throwing yourself at him and bringing your lips to his. Tonight in particular was one of the most stressful days at work you had so far and all you really wanted to do was change out of your clothes and go to sleep. Seeing Mark only broke you out of your exhaustion and the huge grin that rose on your face didn’t seem as if it was going to falter at all any time soon.

“Did you really think I would let you go to prom with someone else other than me again? Did I not tell you how badly I wanted to rip that dress off of you and how extremely lethal you looked in it? I want to be the one to experience your magical night with you—and trust me, it’ll be even more magical once we head back to the hotel room right after—it’s like you live to torture me and not in the ways I’d prefer you would.” He began rubbing the side of his shoulder where you gently shoved him before playfully pinching your cheek.

“Anyways, I already bought a tux, you just have to tell me what color tie to get. Oh—and I’m here till the end of summer baby, so I’ll be here to watch you graduate and I’ll be here to help you get all your things ready for New York. I still can’t completely process that I get to go back to school with you alongside of me. I’m so fucking happy, you don’t understand—and we get to live together. You know what that means.” He began to wiggle his brows and you couldn’t help but laugh at his nonchalant hint towards the activities he had in mind once you started living together.

“Hey, I’m coming to New York for college, not to focus specifically on our sex life—“

“I know that babe, but making love to you is my favorite past time and now we’re going to have more chances in doing so—“

“You know Mark, I think there’s still some time left for me to accept UCLA—“

“You wouldn’t dare. You miss me just as much as I miss you—I meant it more than sexually. I just really can’t wait to have you around more often. There are days that are so shitty for me sometimes and all I want to do is have you hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. We’re going to get a sneak peak at what the rest of our lives together is going to be like and I can’t wait to share that experience together with you. Now, if you’d be ever so kind, I travelled all the way here to be with you. The least you can do is show me some hospitality and maybe suck me dry? Don’t look at me like that babe IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS.”

You continued to keep the facade that you weren’t in the mood to do anything just to mess with him—although you were tired, Mark just had that effect on you. If you were ready for bed right as you were coming home, you were now ready to do whatever it was he asked of you. Since your parents were right downstairs, the both of you had to do your best to get reacquainted with one another as quietly as possible. For a little over two hours, you and your boyfriend experimented in different positions; his lips and tongue mapped its territory all along your breasts, neck, thighs, waist and right above your soaking entrance. It was honestly quite the task trying to keep your moans at bay; especially because your love making sessions only became more vocal the longer the two of you were away from each other.

“I’ve missed you.” He pulled you on top of him once you both came down from your highs and left a wet kiss right below your ear.

“I’ve missed you more. I still can’t believe you’re here and I get to have you for until I leave.”

The rest of your evening was spent updating each other on what’s been going on in both of your lives until he fell asleep. For the rest of that week, he followed you around like a lost puppy on the days that you weren’t at work or school. You were sure most people would get tired of the clinginess and the fact that he always wanted to be with you, but it was something you genuinely enjoyed. Not once did you ever not want Mark around you—in fact you were just as tenacious when it came to him.

Mark was more than happy to be home this time around; all his friends were also home for the summer and it felt like to good old times for him. Before you could even think about how many days you had left until graduation, senior prom came in the blink of an eye. Mark looked as handsome as ever; his hair was slicked back in a way you weren’t used to, but you knew you were going to nag him in to styling it like this all the time. He also looked very classy in his tux and you couldn’t help but laugh at the idea that his dad probably had to help him out with his tie. Your boyfriend was twenty-years-old yet he still had no clue how to fold a tie all that well.

“Baby, I can’t get over how fucking beautiful you are. God, I can’t stop staring at you. You’re giving all of your classmates here a run for their money.”

The night went by quicker than you would have liked; but that was because it was so much fun. Mark, like he always seemed to be was nothing short of a perfect gentleman. He made sure your night was going well by taking care of you like it was his life duty. Whenever you wanted to go talk with some of your friends at their tables, or if you had to use the bathroom, he held your things—when it got cold in the ballroom, he placed his suit jacket on your shoulders. He brought you out to the dance floor even against your many pleas because he wanted to make sure you had the time of your life. As he spun you around ever so lightly and placed his chin on your forehead, you knew that night was one of the best nights of your entire life.

“You know the next time I’ll get to have you like this—looking effortlessly stunning and dancing with you like we’re the only two people here, you’ll be Mrs.Mark Tuan.”

You couldn’t feel warmth fill up your entire body; his words sent fire to your bones and the thought of getting to marry him never failed to make you blush like a school girl who was approached by her crush. You looked up at him and stole a sweet kiss from the corner of his mouth before hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“I’ll be waiting patiently for that day, but just know—I can’t wait.”

As soon as prom was finished, your boyfriend carried you bridal style up to the hotel room he rented for the both of you with the idea of showing you exactly what torture you caused him looking as “sexy” and “otherworldly” as you did that night.

Graduation came less than two weeks later and as much as you couldn’t wait to finally move on to the next chapter of your life, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss being in high school. Just like most boyfriends would in order to embarrass their girlfriends; Mark had an entire banner made for you and assigned all of his friends to hold it up for you during the ceremony and afterwards while waiting for you to walk out on the field.

You tried your best to stifle back a laugh at how crooked it was; Yugyeom practically towered over his older friends and it only made this event all the more memorable. Right as your principal called your name, gave you your honors chords and your certificate, you could hear your name being shouted from the back of the auditorium and you were sure you would melt on the spot seeing your boyfriend look at you as if you were the most ethereal goddess to exist. Unlike all of your other classmates who stayed a little while to talk to each other about their plans after high school, you made a beeline to where you knew your boyfriend, family and friends were waiting to congratulate you.

“There’s my beautiful college graduate. You’re glowing baby. I’m so happy for you.” He pulled you in to a tight hug but before he could even kiss you, you were being yanked in every other direction by your family.

“My youngest baby is a high school graduate and now she’s going off to college. You know y/n, there are many amazing colleges here in California. You can save your money and continue living with your father and I—“ You felt Mark wrap his hand around your waist as he took his place right next to you. He got along really well with your parents. Sometimes you felt as if they preferred him over you only because he knew the exact words to say to flatter your mom and to impress your dad. They were very good in treating him like family. However, you could tell by the tight grip that he wasn’t too fond of what your mom was trying to talk you in to doing.

“Don’t worry Mrs.y/l/n, your daughter is in good hands. She always has been and always will be. I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

After saying your goodbyes to all of your relatives who flew down just to be there for your graduation, you made your way back towards Mark and his friends. BamBam and Yugyeom picked you up and spun you around while Jackson and Jinyoung pulled you against their chests and ruffled with your hair.

“Finally! You get to come up and experience what college is actually like—that’s if lover boy here ever let’s you come out with us.”

“In your dreams losers. You got me in trouble twice for shit I didn’t even do. I’m not letting you corrupt my sweet, innocent girlfriend—“

“Y/n? Innocent? Hahaha! Don’t make us laugh. Y/n is the furthest thing from innocent. My ears are still so sore from all her screams and moans that one night I came back to our dorm to pick up some clothes while she was there. By the way, as much as I like you y/n, I’m not all that happy you’re stealing my roommate. I hope Mark knows that I should get ultimate dibs on being his best man because of it. Speaking of which, did you finally get around to asking her—ah, asking her about the color to paint your room. I think we should get going now guys, let’s allow these two lovebirds to celebrate on their own. Congratulations again y/n!”

You’ve known Mark’s friends for quite some time now; Jackson knew something that he wasn’t supposed to tell you. The five of them were never good with keeping secrets nor were they ever good at telling lies. You didn’t have to look at Mark to know he wasn’t all too happy with Jackson; nor did you want to aggravate him even more by asking him the many questions that were on your mind. The main question being what exactly did he have yet to get around asking you?

You knew it wasn’t just a question about your soon to be apartment together and you now you were dying to know exactly what Jackson was referring to. Oh well, it was just going to have to wait till you could find a time that Mark wasn’t around for you to ask. Summer was always your favorite season; there was so much for you to do. You decided to take a break from work in order to spend as much time with your family before having to move to New York.

Most days, you and Mark would go around California; heading to all your favorite places together and even finding new places to make memories at. You also made sure to save some time to spend with Jaebeom seeing as how you were both going your separate ways. As much as he loved America, he missed his friends and family back in Korea. These last two years were meant specifically for him to learn English and to pick up on American culture. You knew you were going to do your best with keeping in touch with him.

Out of all your friends, Jaebeom was one you saw being in your life for a very long time. Your relationship with your parents also grew stronger; mainly because it was just the three of you now and soon it was just going to be the two of them. To your dismay, when you got to hang out with Mark’s friends again and even when you got Jackson alone, he pretended as if he had no clue what you were talking about when you asked him what he meant back at your graduation.

The truth was going to come out sooner or later, so you were just going to have to wait—no matter how much the curiosity was eating away at you. May, June and July never seemed to fly as quickly as they did but before you knew it, you were packing away everything you needed for college. Deep down, you were sad knowing that you were moving out of the house. You’ve been around your parents for your entire life, you weren’t sure if you were ready to live without them. Hell, your mom still made your appointments for you and even when you were to move thousands of miles away, you were sure she’d still be taking care of your responsibilities for you.

“Make sure to call me as soon as you land. And please, call me at least five times a day. Remember, you can can always come back home—“

“Mom—“

“If you ever need me I can fly up there and—“

“Mom—“

“Even if you need to take a break, I am totally fine with you taking a year off—“

“Mom, I’ll be fine. I’m in good hands, remember?”

You turned to look at your boyfriend putting your luggage in the back of his truck and returned his smile when he caught you looking at him. Tears started to build up at your eyelids as you looked at your mom trying her best to fight back her tears.

“I’ll always be your little girl, don’t ever forget that. College will go by faster than we think and Mark and I plan on returning back to California once I graduate. It’s not goodbye mom, it’s just a see you later. Please take care of yourself. I love you so much.”

Saying goodbye to your parents was harder than you thought it would be. In fact, your boyfriend had to pull to the side in order to console you and comfort you as you cried. He left gentle kisses on your forehead while he ran his hands through your hair. It didn’t take long for you to calm down, especially because Mark was really good in giving you time to let it all out before reminding you that everything was going to be okay. You were reminded of how hard it must have been for him having to leave two years ago, but now you were finally going to be together permanently.

Mark’s touch was so comforting; you could tell he wanted to be there for you yet he also wanted to give you some space. He did everything for the both of you; brought both his and your luggage’s to security and got them checked in, found your gate and had you sit down so he could go purchase some snacks for the ride. You didn’t realize just how tired you were until you knocked out only minutes after getting settled on the plane. This meant that you weren’t able to see the way Mark was looking at you so adoringly; but it’s not something you weren’t used to. He looked at you that way all the time. You felt a gentle push on your shoulder and a few wet kisses scatter along your face and you had a feeling Mark was trying to wake you up.

“Baby, time to get up. We’re here.”

A huge part of you was still pretty sad that you were no longer in California, but the hand that was tightly holding yours as you were being guided through the airport reminded you as to why you were doing this. Looking at Mark right now; you never felt more at home than you did at this moment. It didn’t matter where you were, your heart was always so full having him with you. The first couple of weeks were the hardest. Getting settled in to your new apartment was a foreign feeling. Mark actually had everything set up for the both of you before he even left for California.

You were very grateful that he was so patient and understanding with you; but it didn’t take long for you to get used to New York City and living with your boyfriend. It was actually everything you could ever hope it would be. He allowed you to make the decisions on how you wanted the place to look like.

The apartment was shockingly very spacious; and he actually had purchased quite a lot of furniture. You were shocked to see just how nice the place actually was—you didn’t think Mark was capable of being an interior designer, but you decided to keep the place looking the way it did. Your bedroom had to be your favorite place in the unit, he had a couple of photos of the two of you scattered throughout the room and separated both your sides of the closet and on the bathroom sink.

He put so much effort in to making sure you were content and it only made your feelings for the older boy grow stronger if it was even possible. College wasn’t at all what you were expecting it to be and you were silently cursing all of Mark’s friends for telling you that it was such a fun experience. Mark introduced you to a couple of his teammates and a few friends he’s made in the last two years while giving you a tour of the campus and showing you where your classes were. You ended up getting a job at your school’s library in order to help Mark pay for the rent and other necessities.

Even if it was just your first year in college, there were days you would find yourself crying because of how strenuous the work load was on top of having to work. There were also days where Mark was constantly at work, practice or school and you didn’t want to put even more stress on him knowing how exhausted he would be whenever he’d come home.

One night, he texted you saying he would be coming home late in order to pick up this week’a groceries. You didn’t think much of it; although, normally the two of you would go together so that you both could get the things you either needed or simply just wanted. Your boyfriend also had a bad habit of buying a bunch of unnecessary items he never needed, so you tried your best to make sure you’d be there with him. But this week, you’ve been picking up a lot of late night shifts and Mark could tell the last thing you wanted to do was go grocery shopping, no matter how much you enjoyed doing something so domestic with him.

When you reached your apartment, you saw his shoes in the cubby hole and his backpack by the counter—so you knew he was home. Everything seemed put away; you checked the fridge and all the shelves were filled with different kinds of food and drinks. He also got the essentials; dishwashing liquid, laundry soap, dryer sheets, shampoo and conditioner. Something didn’t feel right though; normally, he would be out in the living room playing video games or doing his work at the dining table.

Maybe he was tired; you still couldn’t understand how he could manage five classes a week, playing sports for hours on end and going straight to work right after only to come home like he had all the energy in the world. Right as you were about to look around for him, you saw a crumpled paper in the corner of your eye which you assumed to be the receipt.

Curiosity got the best of you—he always paid for the groceries no matter how many times you’d tell him to split the bill. In fact, he would pay for pretty much anything and told you to save your money to buy things you wanted to. It was hard accepting the fact that he did all of this for you—sacrificed so much for you because he loved you with his entire being only because you didn’t feel like you deserved any of it. If anything, he was the one who deserved so much more than what you could give him. When you scanned the receipt, everything seemed perfectly normal—he purchased every item the two of you would normally buy.

However, towards the bottom of the list you saw something that made you confused, yet you let out a little giggle.

“Mark!” You began walking towards your bedroom in the hopes of getting an explanation as to why he felt the need to buy his favorite cookies in bulk.

“Babe, I know you love nutter butter, but eight packages? Are you preparing for an apocalypse or something—oh my God.”

Your question was answered as soon as you opened the door. There, in all of his devastatingly handsome glory, your boyfriend of ten years, down on one knee with a red box in his hand and a tray of nutter butter on the bed spelling out the words “will you marry me?” There were roses scattered all over the ground and candles spread throughout the room. Your heart was racing faster that it ever has in your entire life.

“Mark—“

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

The smile on his face was barely reaching his eyes and you could tell it was because he was nervous. He was shaking and he looked like he was on the verge of throwing up; you couldn’t understand why though. Sure, marriage proposals were always so nerve wrecking, but he should already know the answer. You slowly walked toward him and gently kneeled to his level while cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“I know this isn’t as romantic as you probably would have wanted it to be. Trust me, I planned out many different scenarios about how this was going to pan out. The guys told me to take you to a beach, or a fancy restaurant but I thought this would be more meaningful. I mean, I realized you were someone special to me when I shared my nutter butter with you over thirteen years ago. You know you are the only person I would do such a thing for—you’re the only person I’d do anything for. I’d give you my kidney if you needed it. I know—we’re still so young to be getting married, but I just couldn’t wait anymore. I’ve been in love with you before I even knew what the word love meant. I’d tell my parents I loved them; I told each and every one of my siblings that I loved them—but with you, it was a different kind of love. It was the kind of love that—I don’t know, my heart always felt so happy and so full every minute I spent with you. You showed me what love is—you made me feel loved and cared for in ways that I don’t think I could ever be able to thank you for doing. You are the most beautiful, funny, charismatic, intelligent, wonderful and honestly perfect human being to walk this earth. God—I can’t even—I’m so fucking in love with you. We’ve had a few ups and downs, but it only made me realize that you are the only person I want to go through hell and back with. You and I are soulmates baby, there’s no doubt about it. I’ve been blessed to have you in my life for almost fifteen years now and I can’t wait to spend an eternity with you. Y/n, will you do the amazing honor and continue to make me the happiest man on earth by marrying me?”

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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hearthandhomemagick · 4 years ago

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Food For Thought - Steven Universe

Hello there, I would like to tell you my story and journey with the amazingly beautiful, and wonderfully written TV Show...

Steven Universe.

I started watching this show when it first came out in High School. I mean, I was so excited to watch it that I anticipated the very first episode and sat down with snacks to observe it’s premier. I had become immediately enthralled not only with the art style, but also with the genuine wholesomeness and elucidations of processing emotions and life experiences. I was astounded that a kids show could express to me how to manage my emotions as well as connect with my moral standings. It’s a show I recommended to everyone, but often didn’t talk about because of it being a kids show, and me being almost being grown. It was my secret love until someone else brought it up.

This show stuck with me through the years, and helped me through some of my hardest moments in life.

I remember watching the episode, “Mindful Education” and melting into Garnet’s lesson of mindfulness and self-awareness. I had been going through a lot at the end of 2016, graduating and going through a rough election along with having to move states for college. My opinions were forming in the extreme area and I had a fire to protect my thoughts and opinions with no restrain or any form of control of my emotional reality. I was rambunctious as much as I was head-strong and, at times, hard-headed all together.

When this episode aired, I didn’t know why I loved Garnet and Stevonnie’s song, “Here Comes a Thought.” But I did, and it still carries with me into my life today.

I want to discuss a specific time, though, that this episode saved my sanity and opened my eyes to a concept I didn’t understand when I first watched it. I was on social media, and was defending my opinions against quite a few people by myself. Eventually, I was getting nasty comments from a bunch of millennials telling me,

“You’re too fucking stupid to understand, maybe you should go back to school, child.”

“You’re so emotional, and your emotions don’t matter here. Imagine being this dumb.”

“Imagine being a dumb bitch like Carly and saying you wanted to cut your penis off to look like a woman.” *NOTE I am not transgender, there is nothing wrong with being transgender and her insinuating such did not bother me. Her rhetoric insinuating trans was wrong is what irked me, this bitch was transphobic and had issues that she needs to repair in her own time. She wrote an entire post based around this context on her personal page using my real name, and she didn’t even know who I was.*

and my personal favorite, “Here’s the suicide hotline, I know your generation is prone to killing themselves and are overly emotional.”

Now, there were over 50, under 100, messages going back and forth where these people were just bullying me and I refused to back down. I wound up in a panic attack in my bedroom, literally wanting to kill myself because they were bullying me. The hotline would have come in handy if it were the actual hotline. I ended up going to my dad and older sister (my older sisters friend was the main one I was arguing with and her posy showed up on my post), because no one on the post was on my side.

Both told me, “If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen.” My sister told her friend to stop, and threatened the other girl for her nasty posts and comments. My dad tried to mediate on the post itself, but the people wouldn’t stop. I eventually had to take it down.

My family didn’t calm me down in this moment. Not even a little bit. It felt like a back-handed helping hand. Like they wanted to protect me, but also somewhat agreed with the people on the post.

The only thing that calmed my nerves in this moment, ultimately, was the song, “Here Comes a Thought.”

I sat in my room, sobbing, hoping to myself that it would make sense as to why it was okay for these things to happen. The song soothed over my nerves, eventually releasing my muscles and giving me a sense ease. I was able to process and realized a few personal things as well. I didn’t realize it, but before long, I was meditating to the song on repeat. I kept telling myself, “I’m okay, this is a thought. A moment. I am not my thoughts. I am not this moment.”

This was simply one of the ways Steven Universe has helped me process and understand myself more. I bring this up because I came across and article today that disappointed me to the core.

The Steven Universe Fandom has toxic tendencies.

I was shook.

How could a child’s show be turned into something so negative? Something that was meant to promote self-awareness, self-love, acceptance of character, and understanding of others had been morphed into a gatekeepers safe haven.

Now I know this isn’t the majority, and before you get offended, hurt or start defending yourself, I want you to ask yourself if what you are defending is an action you would defend from anyone else. If it is, by all means defend your ground.

But the one concept that eludes me, and offers zero substance in terms of valid arguments, is that men can not watch this show. Let me explain why men NEED to watch this fucking show.

My boyfriend watched this entire show, episode for episode, and benefitted from it. This show offered him coping techniques, an understanding of why love should come before war, and mediating every situation so you see and understand every perspective. These are things children shows didn’t offer him growing up, he has often and openly verbalized his need for this show in his childhood because of certain traumas, and we often continue watching it even after seeing every single episode and movie.

This show was never meant for one or two groups of people, and if you feel that way then refer back to the writers themselves who were literally trying to teach the lesson in the show over and over again to NEVER EXCLUDE PEOPLE FROM YOUR GROUP. You exclude people, and you create a division, a war of sorts. You immediately have become the thing Steven Universe advocated against in the first place.

This also leads into the whole “art” situation in the fandom.

This show is anti-bully. There are commercials for it and everything. It is expressed in multiple episodes why bullying is never a good thing in any situation.

You simply cannot justify the hypocrisy in bullying someone out of self-expression that literally harms no one. You can’t justify it.

Think about it. You draw or sketch a piece of art that took you hours, or even a few minutes. It’s your favorite character, and maybe you yourself are going through some mental thoughts regarding your weight that lead you to draw the character thinner or bigger. Size shouldn’t matter in any capacity when relating a character to ones self.

If you’re skinny, you’re beautiful. If you are thick or curvy, you are beautiful. If you are obese or overweight, you are beautiful. Weight doesn’t matter, but representation of body types in different characters does matter.

Imagine a child falls in love with a bigger character, but is experiencing body challenges where she is being picked on for being too thin or scrawny (it happens, I’ve seen it with my nieces). Who are you to say that making her favorite character look like her own body is wrong? Especially if art is a coping mechanism they use for mental health reasons.

Like Malachite, a fusion that was devastating and abusive in every way, you are taking the choice and voice of an entire being to make your actions and opinions “right” or “okay”.

There is so much more I could say on this show, and so much more I could say about the fandom. And I know it is not the majority of the fandom, but I did want to make everyone in the fandom aware that we are human.

None of us are stoic and balanced like Garnet, and even Garnet had problems in her relationship. None of us are strong and laid back like Amethyst, and even she had self-love issues. None of us are as analytical and organized as Pearl, and yet she had problems throughout the series.

None of you are perfect, and to act as if you are is defeating the purpose of a show trying to teach you how to be responsible for yourself and your actions. I’m not perfect either, and preaching about a fandom I’m not a huge part of sounds counter-intuitive, I’m aware.

But my nieces want to watch this show. My nephew watches this show with me. My boyfriend’s niece is going to start watching the show.

Please do not make a toxic environment for kids who need this show to grow up. Kids who experience trauma, and learn from this show deserve a safe space without people trying to justify bullying or force them to think that because they are a boy or girl, they can or can’t watch the show. Without people making people feel bad for being themselves.

Why don’t we create a new space? A space where everyone is accepted as they are, and negative behavior is addressed the same way the gems or Steven would address them. With education, perception awareness, and PATIENCE.

I know some will say, “It’s not my job to raise your child.” and “It’s not my responsibility to make people aware of their tendencies.”

You’re right. It’s also not your responsibility to bully people into changing themselves to fit your dialogue. Simply put, you’re responsible for yourself alone. But you have no right to complain on someone's behavior, art or experiences if you are not willing to be patient with correcting said behavior in yourself first.

Who knows, maybe I’m in the wrong here for not knowing the full story. All I’m saying is, if you see someone being a bully, being mean or even being a hypocrite, call them out in the sweetest way possible. Let them know we are facilitating a safe space for people who need a community rather than a closed off club.

Be the change you want to see in this world.

Learn, grow and prosper.

I wish you all well and genuinely hope we can all expand our perspectives to fully understand each other in healthier and more communicative based ways. We deserve that sort of kindness from each other.

#steven #stevenuniverse #amethyst #pearl #garnet #malachite #cartoonshow #art #love #patience #understanding #herecomesathought #foodforthought

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daddystevee · 5 years ago

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The Only Exception

(Steve Harrington x reader)

Bleh i feel like this has potential but like i feel like i absolutely butchered it.. :( but i redeemed myself in the end i think. Heh were gonna pretend that Paramore was a thing in the 80s because why the fuck not. This fic was written with the help of tiktok aus and The Only Exception by paramore heh.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: a few curse words, a small panic attack situation, mention of a gun, and lots of angst spelling and bad grammar??

Summary: an AU in which everyone has a soulmate, on your 20th birthday a number pops up on your wrist telling you how far away you are from them. Reader has a hard time with love and believing in good things associated with love.

Soulmates are a tricky thing. Growing up you were told that soulmates are supposed to be someone that just gets you. A connection of minds, a mutual respect, an unconditional love and a total understanding. It was about being yourself and knowing, not only that person is following and understanding your thoughts, but is right there with you, side by side.

But in reality, soulmates were determined by a couple of numbers that would pop on your wrists, telling you how far apart the two of you were on your 20th birthday. You weren’t sure who came up with the idea, but you hoped they realized how dumb it was. Sometimes there were people who really wouldn’t ever find their other half.

When you were younger, you never really realized how much your parents would argue. But what you did notice was that your mom and dad’s numbers on their wrists weren’t at 0 or at least in the lower single digits, your moms was 358 and your dads was 690. Meaning that they weren’t really soulmates, just two people who put up with each other's bullshit for no reason. Making you believe that you didn’t necessarily need your soulmate to be “happy”.

As you got older, you started to see the major flaws in your parents relationship. Your parents were constantly yelling at each other for no reason. Everything changed the day your father pulled a gun on both you and your mother. After that, your mother packed up everything the two of you had and ran, as far away as she could with your father constantly knowing how far away you were.

From that day forward, you vowed to never let your guard down. Never letting yourself fall in love and to forever believe that no matter what number popped up on your wrist, soulmates didn’t exist.

After running from your biological father for what seemed like years, the two of you ended up in a boring little town called Hawkins, Indiana. Where you would start your life over for the first time at the age of 12. Over the next 5 years you would learn that Hawkins was not a boring town because at the beginning of your junior year of high school, at 17 years old you would get sucked into this dark place that looked just like home, but it wasn’t.

You somehow survive, running from a scary creature that would open its face and eat anything in its path. No matter what you did, it seemed like you could never run away from this thing. You would experience this insane encounter alongside a 12 year old, who you would learn is named Will Byers. After what felt like months you would finally be rescued.

You would eventually go back to school to finish out your junior year of high school, but not without making friends with Will and a bunch of other 12 year olds. Along with the kids came automatic friendships with the older siblings as well, including Steve.

A year after your first experience with the Upside Down everything was fine and normal, you thought that it was all over. Boy were you wrong, Will started to have these visions of the alternate universe the two of you had been trapped in.

You were fine but knew this creature and that world better than anyone else, so as much as you really didn’t want to, you opted to help out as much as you could staying close to the other kids and really just making sure that they were safe. They were your family after all.

As the battle went on you grew closer to Steve Harrington, learning to call him your best friend. He was the only one who you knew well enough and could get you to open up and let your guard down a little bit, but you had to tough it out because you made a promise to yourself and you had to keep it. You couldn’t take that risk. The boy had some sort of soft spot in your heart and you refused to believe it and would never let anyone know about it.

May 29th, 1985 was a sad day for everyone, it was the day you would be moving away from everything you had. All of the kids, Nancy, Jonathan, and your best friend Steve. Steve, the boy who you had grown up beside, the boy you fought inter-dimensional monsters with.

You were driving across the country to go to the University of Southern California. Saying that this wasn’t an easy choice would be a lie. You knew exactly what you were doing, running away from your fears, that was all you knew how to do but you knew that if you didn’t leave now you would never get out of there. You always have to put your safety and mental health first, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

“Promise you’ll call every day?” Steve asks you, pulling you into a hug.

“Only if you promise to answer.” you say with a sad laugh, you never planned on ever calling home.

Here you were, in Los Angeles, California. 2,105 miles away from home. An entire year later and you still hadn’t called home, if that's what you would even call it. You refused to associate yourself with that place ever again and had completely wiped that section of your life from your memories. A voice in the back of your mind was constantly calling you back, but you always ignored it.You were starting your life completely over for the second time, at 19 years old, in California. You lived in a two bedroom apartment with your new best friend and her ‘soulmate’. While you were happy for them, you couldn’t help but be jealous of their happiness.

It was your 20th birthday, and you had no plan on looking to see how far your soulmate was from you. You didn’t care, all soulmate’s were shit and ‘happily ever after’s’ didn’t actually exist. You planned on just getting drunk with your friend and forgetting about life for a night.

“So I was thinking we could go to a karaoke bar tonight? How does that sound?” your best friend Logan asked you walking out of her and her boyfriend’s shared room

“I mean I suck at singing but-”

“Yeah, but being drunk makes everyone a great singer”

“I guess so. Just us right?” you asked, while Logan and her boyfriend were cute you honestly hated third wheeling it always made you feel some sort of way. Jealous maybe?

“Of course! Now let's get you ready! You never know you might just bump into someone special” she says wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yeah, not gonna happen” you say unamused, rolling your eyes while walking off to your room to get ready.

“Come on Y/N, you’ve gotta sing at least one song while we're here.” your best friend slurred while pulling you along behind her, obviously too drunk for her own good. You ended up not drinking as much as you had planned, but the two of you had to get home somehow.

“I’m not drunk enough, you might be but I am most certainly...” but before you could object anymore she had already chosen a song and shoved a microphone in your hand pushing you onto the stage. “.. what the fuck? I don’t even know what song this is?”

“Yes you do! I hear you singing it in your room all hours of the night..” she says stumbling off into the crowd.

The beginning chords to the song start to play over the speakers and you know exactly what song it is. You looked down at the microphone in your hand and refused to look up at the audience, yet the words came out of your mouth naturally, as easy as breathing. No one truly knew your story, except one person. That person was Steve Harrington. The one who always brought butterflies to your stomach even though you told yourself that this was wrong.

“Maybe I know, somewhere deep in my soul, that love never lasts.”

You had beat yourself up over it for months, you refused to let him get in the way. You were never going to be happy, that was just how this worked.

“But you are, the only exception”

Maybe there were exceptions in the world and you just weren’t lucky enough to believe in that shit.

“You are, the only exception”

Something in your gut told you to look up at the crowd and expected to look for Logan among all of the people.

“You are, the only exception”

What you didn’t expect to see was a familiar set of brown eyes looking at you from the back of the room.

“You are, the only exception”

You suddenly felt like it was impossible to breathe but you were still singing out the words from your heart.

“Oh, and I'm on my way to believing.”

As you sang the last words of the song you dropped the mic, making a break for the side exit door, not thinking about your drunk friend at this moment. You just had to get out of there without having to talk to him. You didn’t get very far before you felt a hand grab onto your wrist,

“Let go of me!” you tried to jerk away from him but his grip was strong. You turned to him and attempted to pull his hand off of your wrist all while avoiding his eyes. “What’s your problem?” you ask frustrated.

“What’s my problem? What’s your problem?” he says, you stop trying to pull away and he lets go of your arm you could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your face. “You left, and none of us heard from you for a year. The kids literally thought you were dead.”

“Yeah well-” you say with a shrug but are suddenly at a loss for words.

“Yeah well what? You promised you’d call. I waited and waited and waited for months and got nothing.” he says, and without looking at him you could tell that he was really upset about it.

“Well…” you say while thinking of a bullshit excuse, “I suck at keeping promises, so I don’t know why you’d hold me to it.”

“Promises?” he scoffs, “You suck at keeping promises? Yet keep an eight year promise to yourself?”

“That’s different.”

“Y/N, you've made plenty of promises to me in the past and always kept them. I don’t know what was so different about this one. All you had to do was make one simple phone call.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to call you. Did you think about that? Maybe I wanted nothing to do with you guys again!” you yell at him, “How the hell did you find me anyways?”

It went completely silent. You could hear a pen drop in the parking lot.

“I- I don’t really think that, that's important..”

“Steve, how the hell did you find me?” you ask finally looking up at him for the first time in a year.

“Well, I know where you moved to.. Because you know you told me what college you were going to before you left.”

“Yes, but how did you know exactly where to find me?”

Steve reaches down to pull up his sleeves of his jean jacket to show you the numbers on his wrist. You refuse to look at it, continuing to look up at his face shaking your head in denial.

“No, there’s no way. It’s not possible.”

“Have you looked at your wrist yet today?”

“No, I told myself that it wasn’t important and that it didn’t matter.”

“Look at it then.” he says grabbing your hand. But as he does this you quickly pull your hand away from him. grabbing onto your wrist.

The voice in the back of your head tells you not to do it, but your heart says otherwise. For whatever reason you listen to your heart for the first time in a while and slowly pull up the mesh material that was covering your arms. Your eyes are squeezed shut, but when you know you’ve got your wrist uncovered you open your eyes and look down. Tears are suddenly streaming down your face, sure enough there was a perfectly placed ‘0’ on both of your wrists.

“No- soulmates they- they aren’t real.” you start to stutter over your words “This isn’t going to work. I know how this ends, and it’s not good.” you start to hyperventilate thinking about your parents. Knowing that everything went wrong and there was no good to this.

Steve places his hands on your shoulders to calm you down, “Hey, relax. It's okay, you're going to be okay.” He slowly pulled you into a hug.

“Is this- a dream?” you ask in between short breaths pulling him closer to you.

“It kinda feels like it but no, it's not.” he says resting his chin on top of your head.

The two of you stood there for a few moments taking in this new feeling.

“I’m tired of running.”

“Then stop running, and walk.”

“But what if I stumble and fall?”

“Then, I’‘ll be there to catch you.”

After that night you ended up leaving USC and transferring to a local college near right outside of Hawkins. The kids were ecstatic to see you when you got home, pulling you in for a giant group hug.

“Don’t you ever leave us like that again.” Mike says to you

“Yeah, we thought you died!” Dustin says dramatically squeezing you tighter.

“Well, I can promise you one thing right now.” you say looking to Steve, letting a small smile fall onto your lips, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Steve, how did you find her?” Lucas asks as he pulls away. Steve looks at you and you both bull up your sleeves showing them your numbers being at ‘0’ and they all look between the two of you.

“Ewwww, they’re sOuLmAtEs” Dustin yells out, a taller dirty blond walks over and smacks him on the back of the head.

“Shut up Dufus, let Dingus have his moment.” the girl says already knowing the story

“I don’t know who you are, but I love you already.”

“I’m Robin” she says sticking out her hand, but you were the happiest you had been in a long time so you just reached out and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m Y/N.” everyone stood there looking at the two of you before bursting into a fit of giggles, which turned into pointless laughter, making everyone double over.

Everyone’s story was different, and there was a lot of work to be done on yours but Steve was going to be there every step of the way. To show you that not everything was perfect, but everyone had their chance at a ‘happily ever after’.

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kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera · 4 years ago

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We Can (Un)Do It

In which there is a marriage law which needs to be undone. Drinny, post-war.

It’s not hard, for anyone, to note that the war has drained Draco Malfoy. Drained him of the pride he had once had, drained his family of the prestige they had once held. Drained a young boy of the youth he had had.

Even so, to Ginevra Weasley, it’s painfully obvious. She knows what he was like before the war—who he truly was. She had loved that person, held him, seen him. She had seen him struggle through the war too, pretending to be a Death Eater for the sake of his mother’s life when in reality he was, like anyone else, just another student caught in the crossfire. She knew, better than anyone, how much bravery it had taken for him to change sides in the battle, to go against Voldemort despite his fear for his mother’s life. But he had done it. And he had done a lot more. He had nursed students back to health, rescued them from the preying Carrow twins and from the ruthless prefects.

In her eyes, he is as much a hero as anyone else. If he had had a real choice, she knows he would have chosen to fight with them. He was just a victim of circumstances, like so many people around them. But that doesn't stop people from treating him and other Slytherins like shit. Cursing them when they are off-guard, flooding their dormitory, calling them slurs. It makes Ginny’s blood boil. But Draco doesn't do anything about it, just bears it all with a blank face, never wavering.

Never wavering except when he catches her looking at him at breakfast in the Great Hall, asking him silently about the bruise on his chin; except when she leaves the Gryffindor table to go eat with him; except when she glares down everyone who as much as looks at him wrong. Then his face has the slightest flicker of emotion—something warm akin to a smile. She knows he dislikes her defending him, but she also knows that if she doesn't, she will one day wake up to the news of his death.

___________________

That morning he enters the Great Hall looking particularly pale—pronounced bags under his eyes, and a particularly nastly looking gash on his cheek. It looks raw and recent—although no blood is flowing from it—as if it has been treated, but couldn't be glamoured. They love giving him scars that can't be hidden, that take a long time to heal. It makes her sick.

“Oh, I bet he loves that, another tattoo to go with his mark,” someone down the Gryffindor table snickers, and a bunch of fourth and fifth years burst into laughter.

Ginny cannot quite make out who it is that had said it, but she stiffens quite suddenly, gripping her fork tightly in one hand, the other reflexively reaching for her wand. Neville catches her eye from across her, looking just as livid as she feels. Luna nudges her foot from beside her however, a warning—she has already been in far too many altercations this year, and it’s only the end of September.

She gets up suddenly enough that a bunch of people look in her direction and quieten down, but a lot of them keep going until Hermione—Head Girl, of course—screams at them, red hot anger pouring into her voice, “Detention, Smith. For the rest of the year. Move. It.”

Ginny ignores the looks she gets as she steps away from the Gryffindor table to go to the Slytherin table—curious glances, subtle smirks, gaping mouths and contemptuous glares. The table is a lot quieter than the others, almost entirely silent except for the sound of cutlery. They make room around Draco when she approaches, almost out of reflex. They are used to her sitting between them now. Not entirely comfortable, no, but used to it.

Her and Draco don't talk while he eats, but the question she wants to ask is mutually understood. It's also mutually known, although grudgingly, that he is not going to answer it. She asks it anyway once they have left the Great Hall.

“Who?”

“It doesn't matter.”

She stops walking for a moment, closing her eyes in exasperation. Draco stops a few steps ahead.

“Draco ... ” she starts, then stops, sighing. She walks up to him instead, taking his hand in her own and nearly dragging him into an empty classroom. She dimly notes that it's the out-of-use Transfiguration classroom on the third floor.

She leans against the door once she’s closed it, looking at Draco who is leaning on a desk, a finger gently feeling about the scar. She moves towards him slowly, stopping once she is standing inches away from him and he is looking right at her, eyes soft. He leans his head towards her as she reaches up to inspect the wound, red and angry and hot, stretching from the middle of his left cheek down to his jawline.

“You should go see Madame Pomphrey instead of patching them up yourself,” she says, voice quiet. “She’s always helped students.”

Draco hums but doesn't reply. Ginny takes her hand away from his face and instead takes his own, thumb brushing gently over it, and he finally heaves a soft sigh and relaxes, his stiff demeanour ebbing. Neither move or speak for a few moments before he says, “You need to stop sitting at the Slytherin table.”

Ginny closes her eyes for a moment, bracing herself for the argument to follow. The one they have been having ever since school had restarted, ever since she had declared that she wasn't going to hide what they were anymore, not from Hogwarts, not from her family, not from the world. It’s almost a ritual at this point.

“No,” she says, opening her eyes. “No, I don't. It’s them. They need to start treating people like people.”

“Gin ...” he sighs, freeing his hand and rubbing his face, mindful of his injury. “You can't put yourself in the line of fire like this. I can't let you.”

“And I can't let you be walked over by everyone. Especially since you refuse to do anything about it.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he says, exasperation written on his face, “it’s got a political aspect now, you don't understand! The Wizarding World of Britain is watching all your moves. You can't be seen fraternizing with the enemy. Nor can Granger and Longbottom and Lovegood. All of you need to stop.”

“You are not the enemy, Draco. You were with us all along. And the other Slytherins … Daphne and Millicent and Terence … they didn't have a choice either. They had nowhere to go. They were students like anyone else." She purses her lips. "It's hypocritical to not treat the Slytherin students like the other students, who were just trying to get by the war like any other from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw or Gryffindor."

Draco scoffs lightly, looking down at his hands. "Slytherins have never been treated the way the others have. And we liked it too, until the war. It's been a given for too long that Slytherins are different, and we've never tried to change it. We made our bed," he lifts his head to look at her, and finds that her honey-brown eyes are glowing in the filtered light coming from the windows. "Now we have to lie in it."

Ginny shakes her head as chatter and footsteps rise in the corridor outside the classroom. Draco lifts his hand to check the time. “The first class is about to start,” he says, “we should get going. It’ll take a while to get down to the Dungeons.”

___________________

They are grouped in four to a table for the double potions class. Professor Slughorn is mindful enough of his students’ plight that he only ever groups the Slytherin students together. It's even better that there are only four of them.

Ginny herself is with Hermione, Jones, and Smith—a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor from her year. She glares at Smith as he takes his seat at the table, perfectly aware of how Hermione is also giving him a seething look and how Jones looks acutely uncomfortable being caught between them. Smith ignores them the best of his ability as they set about making their Amortentia.

It's only when she whiffs the familiar smell of parchment and cologne from her cauldron that she is convinced that her potion is complete. Suddenly the entire classroom smells like Draco, even though he is at the opposite end of the class. She smiles when he looks up at her, as if they were sharing a secret. She only looks away when Hermione nudges her foot, mirth in her eyes, and motions towards professor Slughorn, who is standing before her equally amused. Someone beside her scoffs but she ignores it.

When they are packing up after the class, she hears the scoff again, followed by a blur of brown hair coming within her line of sight.

“You would do well to stay away from Death Eaters and Slytherins, Ginny,” Smith says seriously even as she ignores him. “You can't be fraternizing with the dark side. You never know when they might turn on you.” She finally turns around and glares, but Smith remains unfazed, continuing in a somewhat mysterious tone, “besides, things are changing. You don't know what might happen.”

She doesn't stop glaring until he has left the class, and it's only her and Hermione left, Draco having left for his Ancient Runes class.

“Don't pay him mind Ginny,” Hermione says to her as she gathers the rest of Ginny’s parchment and puts them in her bag. “He’s an idiot.” She looks at the empty doorway. “An entitled idiot.”

___________________

“I talked to Percy today,” Hermione says as she settles in her bed, curtains drawn open so that Ginny can see her with her book in her lap. She has her own room, being Head Girl, but she prefers being with other people around.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I wanted to know about the workings of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and he mentioned something that I found a bit … worrying?”

Ginny turns away from the mirror and looks at her inquiringly. “It’s about a law,” Hermione continues quietly, “a law about marriage.”

“About marriage?” Ginny frowns, as a quiet node of worry grows in her belly. She has heard about those before. The last one had been imposed right after the first Wizarding War, to repopulate the Wizarding World. Her mum used to talk about how arbitrary it was, and how glad she was she had married Dad before the law had come out.

Hermione nods. “Percy said they have been developing the law for a while now. Their official reasoning is to “Keep the Wizarding World alive and to end the House disparities, seeing the attacks on people from pureblood families.” She grimaces. “He told me to warn others about it,” she pauses, then sighs deeply. “The Ministry is going to be making the matches this time. Anyone who doesn't follow might be persecuted.”

Ginny drops the hairbrush she had been holding, sinking into her bed. Ministry matches. End disparities. Persecution. Fuck. She turns to Hermione slowly, breathing heavily through her mouth.

“Oh, Ginny,” Hemione sighs softly, making her way over to her, “I’m so sorry. I know you and Draco …” Ginny belatedly realizes that she is trembling. Hermione wraps her arms around her.

___________________

Ginny doesn't sleep that night. This isn't unusual—sleeplessness is an old friend—but the thought of the Marriage law sends her deeper and deeper into angst. She could be married to anyone. Anyone. That person had a very high chance of not being Draco. She doesn't think she could bear it—not after everything they've been through together, not after how he was her last link to sanity throughout last year. It takes all she has to stifle her almost-sobs. It hurts. Her head hurts from trying not to cry.

She hadn't thought she would get married so young. She had hoped to wait it out until she was in her late-twenties, until she had a stable life, a stable career. She had, at the very least, hoped to have the choice. To have a say in it. But the Ministry wants children. She doesn't want children—not so soon. She’s a child herself!

It's finally around three in the morning that she decides to get out of bed. She doesn't know where she is going, really, but she wants—needs—to move about. To do something. It's about quarter of an hour later that hse finds herself in the library, perusing bookshelves on Magical Laws. Creature Laws; Criminal Laws; Civil Laws; Marriage Laws. Her hand trembles as she pulls the books out from the shelf, sets them down on the floor, and sits down beside them herself.

“Lumos.”

___________________

“Ginny, where have you been?” Hermione calls out to her from where she is seated on the Gryffindor table, Luna beside her. Ginny sits down across from her, pouring herself milk as she looks at her friends curiously. There is a strange sort of worry on their face. Belatedly she notes the copy of Daily Prophet lying on the table, front page up, showing the face of a ministry employee, and a loud headline below it. The hall is unusually abuzz. She had thought it would be a few days before it comes out, maybe give her more time to research … but now …

"It's here," Hermione says to her, but Ginny isn't listening. She is looking instead towards the table at the far end of the hall, at the boy with pale skin and blonde hair who is looking back at her with the same look of worry that is being reflected across the student body.

“We’ll get the letters anytime now,” Luna says, and it startles Ginny to hear the worry in it. It’s too soon, too much. Far too much for her to take. She gets up and all but runs outside, Hermione’s call ringing after her.

She winds up on the banks of the lake, in a rocky part shielded from direct view. She needs to think. Her head is hurting again. She needs to get away from all of this, from everything. Maybe this is a nightmare. She just needs to wake up. Wake up!

“Hey,” a voice calls from behind her, soft and hoarse, and she doesn't have to turn around to know that it's Draco. She doesn't respond—her voice is too heavy.

He grimaces and sits beside her, hand reaching out and taking hers. He looks at her with an uncertain expression as she wipes her face with her other hand. She doesn't know what to say, and she doesn't think he does either. He removes a copy of the prophet from his robes, setting it on the ground before her. She looks away.

“I don't want to read it,” she says.

“They are going to send the matches. We have until the end of the year to get married, until we turn nineteen to conceive.”

Ginny bites her lip, breathing in deeply. She swallows. “I know. Hermione told me.”

She looks away from him, staring instead at the clear blue waters of the lake and the errant fishes swimming through it. It's a nice day—clear, calm, sunny—everything opposite to what she feels. Draco’s thumb rubs abstract notings against her hand, and their fingers are entwined. They fit perfectly against one another. They are perfect for one another. But they want to take away this too—take away love. The thought finally breaks her resolve, tears falling from her eyes hot and fast, and she is sobbing.

“Oh, Gin,” Draco mumbles against the top of her head as he draws her towards him, and she cries out her frustration while he rubs familiar patterns on her back.

___________________

It's during lunch that the letters arrive, in a flurry of hundreds of owls swooping before years fifth to eighth.

Ginny is not at lunch, nor is Draco. They haven't strayed from their spot for the past few hours, although it feels to Ginny like a lifetime. She tenses up as she sees the parliament enter the great hall, eyes focusing on the two that are flying right towards them. Draco tightens his hold on her, not that he needs to—her nails are digging into his palms.

The two owls swoop before them with a flourish, hooting softly at them. When the two receivers don't move to take their letters, one of them pecks at Ginny's hand indignantly. Draco reaches out with a trembling hand to undo the strings and retrieve the envelopes with the ministry seal on it, although neither try to open them.

The owls fly away, in a flurry of brown feathers, still hooting, as the two teenagers look at the desolate envelopes lying on the ground. It would be easy to burn them, Ginny thinks. Easy to burn them to ashes and never find out. Maybe they should just run away. Away from everything where they can have peace and quiet and each other. The envelopes, however, open by themselves when a few minutes have passed, and their contents fly neatly to the respective receivers hovering near them until they are literally in their face.

"Let's just get it done with," Draco says, "get it done with so that we can accept our sentence."

Ginny takes the letter with a sigh.

' … will need to marry by the end of the year 1999 …'

'... must conceive by the year 2000 …'

'... Failure to comply will result in snapping of wand …'

'... ministry has decided that you are to partner with Seamus Finnigan, half-blood, Gryffindor, year eight.'

She stares at the letter for a moment, then two, then three, before she whips out her wand and sets it on fire.

Seamus. Seamus Finnigan. She doesn't know if she should laugh or cry. She can only imagine his plight. Poor boy.

Draco's letter has drifted to the ground and he is staring at it without actually looking.

"Seamus Finnigan," Ginny says carefully, and Draco lifts his head to look at her. He hesitates a moment before he says, "Luna Lovegood."

Ginny shuts her eyes for a moment, then lets out a mirthless laugh.

"This is a joke," she says finally, "a joke. Both of them are gay! Luna could never … poor Seamus. He and Dean are in love and the Ministry had to come along and ruin it. Ruin it all."

She doesn't notice the tears that have begun rolling down her face again until Draco wipes them off.

"We …" he starts, then stops. "There has to be something we can do … some way we can stop this. It makes no sense! There must be a contradictory law or—"

"There isn't."

Draco stops mid-sentence, looking at her with eyebrows raised.

"I looked through the books in the library; I tried summoning more books; I asked Hermione, there's nothing anywhere." She looks up at him. "There's nothing we can do."

She looks away again, drawing away from Draco as she gets up. "We'll have to submit to our sentence, like you said."

"Gin." He looks up at her in alarm, eyes wide, tone scared.

She bites her lip to stop more tears from coming. She needs to leave. Now.

"Gin, no!"

Draco's hand on her wrist prevents her from leaving, and deep down she is glad. She cannot lie to herself. She could never leave him this way. He turns her around so that she is facing him, a hand grasping her shoulder, the other cupping her face, and his eyes are shining.

"We'll do something. There are more books on laws in my family library, and Hogwarts doesn't have too much on laws anyway. It must be based on some old laws … all laws have contradictions. And no one could possibly be happy about this." He takes a deep breath. "We can do this, Gin, just—" he swallows. " Just don't leave me."

She closes her eyes, all but falling onto him.

“I could never.”

___________________

The school seems to be moping at every turn that Ginny takes. Only rarely does she find a happy face. No one is happy. No one was prepared for this. Hermione looks up when she enters the dorm, and the two girls take a single moment to acknowledge the puffy eyes and tear tracks.

Ginny sits at the edge of Hermione’s bed. “Seamus.”

Hermione stares for a moment, then shakes her head. “Mclaggen.” she sighs. “I’ve been hiding from him.” she tries to laugh, but it comes out watery. “I had wanted a career, you know. Not children at the age of nineteen. And not with Mclaggen. That damned Ministry—” she doesn't bother finishing the sentence—she doesn't have to. Everyone is thinking it. “I should just disappear to the Muggle world,” she sighs, “somewhere far away … Australia? Live in a small town. Work in a library. Sounds nice, doesn't it?” she turns to look at Ginny.

She nods. It does.“I was with Draco,” Ginny says, picking on a loose thread in Hermione’s comforter. Hermione hums. “He said we can overthrow the law. There are always contradictory laws … and the ministry can't impose something like this on us if we are all against it anyway …”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Draco is having his mum send some books from their family library. We need your help, drafting a contradiction, a petition. If it comes to it, a rebellion.”

“Any action against the law can result in Azkaban, Ginny.”

Ginny scoffs. “The life they are imposing on us is no less than Azkaban either. And anyway,” she looks up, “we are war heroes. They can't go against us.”

Hermione looks into Ginny’s flashing eyes. Slowly, her lips curl up in a smirk.

___________________

The Ministry’s Wizarding Marriage (Amendment) Act 1998 Scrapped, Wizarding World rejoices.

- by Jeremy Fuller

The Ministry on wednesday announced the scrapping of the Marriage Law enacted last month. This move came up as a result of the efforts of War heroes Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, and Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley opposing the law. Draco Malfoy had presented the contradicting bill from his seat in Wizengamot which was backed up by big powers of the Ministry. The law had been very unpopular with the majority of the populace, and had resulted in many disagreements between the ministry and the people. it's believed that the Minister had been threatened with an uprising by the Chosen One—Harry Potter—himself.

The Law was criticized by many intellectuals and members of the Wizengamot as insensitive, sexist, and homophobic. Healers from St. Mungo’s had criticized it as an added burden to a barely recovering society. “It would have hurt the people already suffering from the effects of the war even more (for the full interview with Healer Grahams, turn to page 8).

The Wizarding World is celebrating the scrapping of the law in the Diagon Alley. The students of Hogwarts are also reported to be very happy (for full article, turn to page 4).

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #drinny #draco and ginny #draco x ginny #dg fics #drinny fics #draco malfoy #ginny weasley #post war #au #marriage law fic #hermioneaubreymiachase #the dark enchantress ruhi #ruhi's writings

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svankmajerbaby · 4 years ago

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i was tagged by @punkenglishnerd - thank you very much, and i’m sorry for being so late!!!

🎃 Pumpkin: Favourite season? spring, because it’s my birthday... and usually the first days of spring are rainy, but then it’s sunny and not very hot yet, so i can dress in layers but i can still bask in the sunshine. i really like autumn too, because while at first it’s too hot to do anything, when it starts to cool down it’s a delight

👻 Ghost: Do you get scared easily? it really depends... for some reason gore doesn’t faze me much, and i’ve become kind of desensitized to a lot of typical horror stuff. but i’m terrified of r*pe scenes, they leave me very nervous and in general a lot of realistic horror, like abuse, torture and the like, gets me very anxious and stressed... i don’t know if i’d call that fear exactly, but if it does, then yeah, i’m a scaredy cat :^/

🎃 Candy Corn: What’s your favourite kind of candy? dark chocolate!! i love really bitter chocolate, or chocolate covered peanuts -that’s what i used to ask for when i went out with my family to the cinema

👻 Vampire: What is your favourite supernatural creature? any sort of manmade creature!!! i really like automata, frankenstein monsters, golems, creepy dolls... but i also love the concept and the symbolism of ghosts and haunted houses......

🎃 Witch: If you could have any superpower, what would it be? i really don’t know... there’s so much i’d like to do... i’d love to be able to speak any language, but i think it’s not really a superpower? since this is halloween themed, i’d have to say telekinesis (matilda was one of my favorite childhood books) and being able to shrink. i’d love to be small as a mouse and wander around the house

👻 Trick or treat: What was your favourite Halloween costume? i dressed as a witch several times!! we don’t celebrate halloween here in argentina, but still there were some birthdays or club parties which were kind of a replacement halloween celebration?? once i went as candy-skull-frida kahlo, and i still think that was my most complex costume... but i really loved dressing up as a witch when i was little, with my green and black striped socks and my witch hat and my long sleeved black top >:^)

🎃 Black cat: Are you superstitious? nah

👻 Ouija Board: If you could change your name, what would you change it to? i used to hate my name casandra, because everyone was called camila or martina or daniela or more “normal” names, and i thought mine was weird... but i still wanted to stand out, so i pretended my second name was miranda, for some reason?? and for some time i was convinced i should change my name to miranda. but after a few years ive grown to like my name, even if i think it does sound kinda pretentious (my parents gave it to me, so its not my fault!!). i’ve also grown to like the other name they would have given me, bruna, which at first i hated but now i kinda love?? maybe i’d change it to that. but i like my name, currently

🎃 Graveyard: Do you know any good scary stories? hmmm the only one that’s like, a scary story, is one i was obsessed with, that was in a book at my school library -i think it’s pretty well known -about the girl with the green ribbon tied around her neck, who has a boyfriend that asks her why she wears it, and she doesn’t say, until she’s in her deathbed and she tells him he can take her ribbon off and he does and the girl’s head falls off. that story lived in my head 24/7, along with actual short stories like the black cat, the telltale heart, the oval portrait, the masque of the red death... i considered metamorphosis by franz kafka a horror story, too, so i guess i’ll add it here. oh, i know!!!!!! one that i think a lot of people don’t know about. the feather pillow, by horacio quiroga. a young couple move to the countryside, and while the husband is away at work, the woman stay at home all the time. the woman falls ill, and the doctor tells her to stay in bed and rest. she gets worse and worse, and withers away. her husband worries but doesn’t know what is going on. the woman finally dies, and when the maid is about to clean the sheets, she notices that the pillow is extremely heavy. and then -she and the husband and the doctor realize -there was a tick, a blood-sucking bug inside the pillow, a typical goose tick that, when given time, can drain a whole person of all their blood it’s better the way the author wrote it, i think i’m selling it short

👻 Skeleton: Have you ever broken a bone? no, i never did anything that could lead to that {:^) when i was younger i climbed trees and played in parks and stuff, but i never played any sports that could make me break a bone... i did break my knee or something?? i can’t remember, but my knee was sort of displaced during a school camping trip in which i got out of the shower and slipped badly

🎃 Werewolf: What is your favourite urban legend? oooooo there’s a bunch from the local high-class cemetery, the Recoleta Cemetery (though i can’t remember any of them very well), where there’s a lot of great urban legends, most of them from the nineteenth or early twentieth century, like one of two star crossed lovers -a young woman who fell for a french soldier visiting argentina -and when he died in the battlefield, she died as well and haunts her grave ever since... or, well, the famous ones like whatever happened to evita’s corpse, which is kind of squicky but still sort of morbidly fascinating??

👻 Horror flick: Do you like scary movies? Boy Do I. i love frankenstein (1931), crimson peak (2015), corpse bride (2005), blood tea and red string (2006), cat people (1942), abominable dr phibes (1970), gaslight (1944), institute benjamenta (1995), little otik (2000), little shop of horrors (1986), picnic at hanging rock (1975), carrie (2013), a girl walks home alone at night (2014), the magic toyshop (1987), faust (1926), mildred pierce (1945), the devil’s backbone (2001), sleepy hollow (1999), the raven (1963), the fly (1958), cronos (1993), the man who laughs (1928), the babadook (2014), whatever happened to baby jane (1962), the cabinet of dr caligari (1920), aaaaand.... the night of the hunter (1955)

🎃 Haunted house: Would you prefer to live in the city or the country? city all the way. i need cinemas, and libraries, and theaters!!!!

👻 Zombie: Do you think that you could survive a zombie apocalypse? oh, no... i’d probably try to kill myself so i can keep myself from being bitten and hurting other people

🎃 Cauldron: What kind of potion would you make if you had the opportunity? some sort of health potion? i wish people didn’t die of perfectly preventable or curable diseases...

👻 Full moon: Do you prefer nighttime or daytime? daytime, particularly the afternoon

🎃 Corn maze: What is your favourite autumn activity? eating, basically; last autumn i spent it baking, i think. i can’t remember, by this point... we don’t have any particular “autumn traditions”, i think...

👻 Broomstick: What exciting places have you travelled to? i really enjoyed istanbul, with all the cats and the beautiful architecture, i’d like to go back ;_; but i also loved prague a lot, we went in winter and it was all snowy and lit at night and it was such a beautiful place... portugal was a surprise, i liked it a lot more than i expected!!! i miss edinburgh a lot, too, even if it’s a bit too stuffy for me, i still liked it.... and berlin, i think i was in berlin for too short a time. i loved the cinema museum so much, and everyone was so nice, and the city has so much fascinating history... and i also miss athens -again, i was surprised, and i spent very little time there, but everything, the ruins, the modern city, the people, everything was gorgeous and wonderful... and dublin!!!!! dublin was amazing!! i’ve travelled a lot. i want to keep travelling. this year my family and i were supposed to go to russia, and i’m still kinda eager to go.

thank you so much for tagging me!!!!!! and sorry again for taking so long... i’m tagging (only if you want to do it!) @saumenschliesel, @flowerb-0y, @jacobaco, @majorabbey, @thatqueerweirdo, @sbongebob, @buffoello, and whoever else would like to do it!! i really enjoyed answering these asks :^)

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coraxaviary · 4 years ago

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Sister-in-Arms | CHAPTER 3: Mess

(Part I, Run the Gauntlet)

Summary: June is thrown into the fray, and meets some of the company.

Word Count: 5.1K

AO3 | Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Author’s Note: This chapter is unbeta-ed! I apologize for any gross mistakes.

Warnings: Minor canon-typical profanity and slurs.

Taglist: @keoghans @papercinders @junojelli (ask to be added)

“So, why?” came a voice behind June. It was Lipton.

“Why did I join the Army, sir?” June stalled, not wanting to have to explain yet again the full-context history of her personal past.

“Yeah, why? A woman like you – you could marry, settle down, have kids,” he said, boots crunching in the coarse dirt. “Isn’t that nicer than slogging around with a bunch of men?”

June had wondered that at some point, too. Why did she have to be different, so ambitious? Why couldn’t she just have met a nice guy and lived somewhere on the California coast: no job to worry about, maybe just two or three children and a kitchen to cook in. She’d have tea with friends or something, have a content life with a husband, and live quietly. No newspaper articles nationally decrying her and her class as products of the radicalized communist youth. No men calling her names. And certainly no physical pain and pushing her body to the limit.

She was no stranger to inordinate challenges.

Only her and a few others in the class had been less connected to politics, but they’d been top of their classes anyway and somehow worked their way up to get Senatorial nominations after being mutually made aware of the girl’s class that year. She’d seen the article in the San Francisco Sun and applied the following month. June had been working as a secretary assistant at the local district office. It took hounding and convincing. Some other girls from less progressive areas had to pull teeth and do favors to get that nomination. She wasn’t exactly sour about it, though. Anyone who had the grit to withstand the West Point treatment had to have the commitment to get in.

She couldn’t help it. June was just how she was. She had tried to reason with herself the year she went to West Point. Why did she have to make her mother so upset? She was selfish, putting her own astronomical ambitions above her own family’s stability. Financially, they had barely been able to afford West Point for the first year. Thankfully, the Depression didn’t hit them particularly hard, but the real strain had been the conflict between June and her mother.

June tried to organize her thoughts. She’d always been like this, she realized, always reaching for some impossible point far in the distance and getting as close as possible – pulling herself along the broken road of life by her own bootstraps. She got some satisfaction out of doing things. But it had to be alone. She’d broken her high school’s 10,000-meter track record on her own. She’d gotten into West Point on her own merit and by her own networking. West Point itself had sabotaged her efforts by forcing her class to graduate a year early, but June had done as much as she could by herself. It was exhausting sometimes, June knew. The loneliness was almost crushing at times.

But once she wanted to do something, she had to do it. Failure was not an option, or else she’d implode on herself. Failure was not the way June did things. She would not fail now. But she’d give Lipton the simple answer.

“I wanted to be with the best,” she said. “I want to fight for our country.” She left it at that. Is that so offensive? That a woman feels patriotism too? she wanted to say, but that would have been bordering on disrespectful to her new fellow trainee.

Lipton fell silent and the mess hall grew in the distance as they neared the building. The din of men talking loudly overtook the crunching sand. “I suppose not. Why not a nurse?” he persisted.

“If you saw men killing themselves because they were denied health clearance to enlist, wouldn’t you feel at least a little motivated to try and fight if you were able?”

He mulled this over. “I suppose,” he said, not sounding very convinced. June sighed, and the three of them stopped in front of the door, where light spilled out from inside the building and some vague smell of cooking wafted out.

Lipton got in line, then Coates, and then June dropped to the back of the group, already feeling like a burden. With Coates starting to seem very concerned over the reactions June elicited from the other men, June felt like she was being babysat by him. He was constantly looking out in other directions. June would have liked to think he was naturally cautious, but she also had a suspicion that Sink assigned Coates to tour her around base because Sink knew Coates would watch her back.

June took in the crowded mess hall. It was almost overstuffed: absolutely exploding with raucous conversation and occasional bursts of laughter. Men moved between tables and benches, which were sandwiched so close to each other that the walking aisles between tables were about the width of one man. It was a sea of soldier trainees from wall to wall.

A few men roughly pushed by to get out the door or to put their trays to the side when they were done. June reflexively ducked her head down in hopes that no one would specifically notice her. No one did, for the time, and men flowed by June as if she was a rock in a river.

June held onto some futile hope that no one would notice her right away. Things were looking up for the few seconds it took for the chow line to move down, but June didn’t relax. Coates handed her a tray, and she moved down, getting a single serving of whatever they had made that day. June didn’t really pay attention: she’d seen the sign and the information went out the other ear. She was too hyper-focused on her surroundings, looking out into the crowd for potentially hostile faces.

Coates turned around to check on her, and June met his look with a stressed, darting look. Lipton had disappeared, probably to eat with his friends, and June wondered if Coates would leave her too and find his men – HQ Company, she remembered.

He cast a glance around the room, eyes snagging on a certain cluster of tables near the right side. He’d found whoever he was looking for, and June felt a nervous ice-cold feeling wash down her spine. He was leaving now. This was where she forged her independence. In the midst of the ocean of men – taller, menacing, threatening, and hostile – she would have to find a seat and do it on her own.

“You a broad?” came an unfamiliar voice, and the frozen feeling of panic came over June with renewed intensity. Her head swiveled up, back and forth rapidly, trying to find the owner of the voice. “Or just a John wearing lipstick?” June turned around and was met with the close stare of a recruit, leaning in.

A smile grew on his face slowly as his eyes took in June’s unamused poker face.

“I’ll be damned,” someone else said close by, and June felt a nudge on her arm from someone else. She jerked away, and leaned in the opposite direction from them, shoulder touching Coates’s back, who was already turned around. June looked pleadingly at Coates, and he looked to identify who was harassing her.

“What are you doing here?” said the same voice again, and June shrunk back, clutching her tray but unable to leave the scene. She had to eat, find a seat somewhere, but more and more recruits were being alerted to her presence.

June had stayed silent, but it was getting increasingly harder. Like before, the attention spread quickly, and soon she felt the mess hall become quieter and quieter until after another minute, the noise level had been halved. June glanced above the shoulders of the nearest men, and found eyes directed towards the small gathering in front of the mess hall.

Her heart was in her throat, and the press of more and more attention was starting to make her sweat. She bit her lip, being stared down by multiple men. She only had two options: run or eat. She intended to eat, because it seemed that this was the way she’d have to elicit eventual acceptance.

“Shiiiiiiit, out of those ODs you’d be a knockout,” said yet another unfamiliar voice. June cringed. “We could find out–” he was cut off by another voice.

“What’s going on here?” said a new soldier, pushing through the crowd. Apparently he had some authority, because the men yielded slightly more easily when he elbowed men to the side. He was tall, dark-haired. Heavy five-o-clock shadow. June eyed his patches. An officer. She straightened, and so did the men next to her, including Coates.

He directed a long, perplexed look at June. He looked quizzically at a soldier next to him, who shrugged in turn.

“Who are you?” he asked, looking down at June.

She internally sighed. The men were going to have a kick out of this. She couldn’t salute, so she just stood and firmly spoke.

“Diedtrich, June. Private, sir.”

Near-silence had come over the mess hall, save for constant shifting, the sounds of the kitchen – which had also dulled – and the occasional scrape of silverware or glass.

A slightly condescending smile came onto his face as he nodded, looking as if he found the situation entertaining. He looked as if he was going to try to hold back a laugh. June looked at him seriously, never breaking eye contact – her most valuable West Point skill. June felt the eyes of the entire hall on the pair of them, wondering what she was going to do next. It felt as if the room was waiting for something to happen. Clearly this was a man who many of the men knew. They held the staring contest for a couple more seconds, and his mocking expression fell away slightly as he seemed to realize something.

“Damn, Private,” he said, breaking the silence, comprehending some mysterious fact. “Easy Company?”

“Yes, sir,” said June.

The man ran a hand through his hair, exhaling powerfully.

“Well, uh…” he said, clearly at a loss for words. The weird, slightly disoriented half-smile came back. “Welcome to Easy, Diedtrich.” He started to turn away, going back to whatever table he was at, then turned around as if he’d forgotten something.

“I’m uh, Lieutenant Nixon. Lewis Nixon,” he added, looking down at June’s hands holding her tray, evidently not free for a handshake. “See you later,” he said, turning and disappearing for the last time.

“Sir,” June muttered, a beat too late when the crowd had already coalesced where Nixon had been standing a moment before.

The quietness of the room was unnerving. June looked about, taking in the various forms of confusion displayed on the faces around her. There was a great deal of muttering, and the atmosphere of the room took on a slightly louder tone, gaining decibels as June stood awkwardly in the center of the crowd.

June looked down at her food, which was quickly cooling. She didn’t necessarily mind, because it was almost stifling in the mess hall filled with bodies, the kitchen radiating heat, and trapped sun-warmed air. She looked at Coates, who was looking at her. She raised an eyebrow, wondering if he had any comment to offer. He shook his head tiredly.

The exchange drew a few hoots – Coates, you know her? – and June cursed herself for dragging this innocent man along in the wake of her troublemaking presence. Coates nodded to a nearby table where one half was free, and June squeezed through the press of bodies, careful not to get food on anyone, which at this point was a major achievement; with her luck, she’d have already spilled something or dropped the tray. He sat down across from her, and June set her head in her hands, waiting for the attention to fade away.

June did remember one thing, though, as the men whirled around her like a hurricane. She quickly located her napkin and dipped it into her water glass, and scrubbed off her lipstick without checking her appearance in any reflections. Her hands itched for a mirror to hold whenever she touched her face, but she stowed the ingrained desire somewhere out of mind, and got to eating the food, trying to distract herself from the continuous looks being directed her way.

Coates watched her carefully, and picked up his fork. June tried to ignore the feeling of guilt she now felt when she looked at Coates. She pushed the food around on her plate after eating about half, feeling too nervous to try and consume the rest; she hadn’t eaten since that morning, but the nerves of the situation were making her stomach contract. She hoped she didn’t throw up later. She needed the protein.

June remembered the sign telling her to finish everything on the plate, and she tried to swallow a few more bites. After eating calmly for a few minutes, the attention had dispersed except for the stares. She wouldn’t be able to do anything unnoticed, so she waited for Coates to finish his food before following him like a lost child.

On the way to the exit, a passing soldier hit the bottom of her tray upwards with a glancing blow. Luckily, her dishes stayed on the tray, but her fork and knife flew off. June stood without turning around silently, while another quiet lull blanketed the room. An annoying tingle of heat started in her cheeks, and her heart pounded harder than when she’d finished a sprint, picking up speed when it had just calmed down to a sub-normal pace. Her ears heated. She breathed hard for a couple of exhales and bit the side of her mouth.

He’s just tryna get a rise, she told herself. Coates waited nonchalantly by the doorway, watching her to see what she did. June was glad. Him helping her would turn into something worse, and she’d possibly be seen as someone even weaker.

“There you go, babe!” someone yelled from far behind her. Scattered laughter drifted up from the hall.

She bent down and took her time collecting the silverware, trying to conceal the shake in her hands. She turned around, dumped the contents of her tray in the washbin, and without another backward glance, walked out with the eyes of the entire mess hall on her back, again.

“Yeah, go get her, Coates!” someone said from inside. Within a few seconds, he was again by her side.

June grew more furious and upset by the second, walking wherever her feet were taking her – far away from the mess hall, out beyond the paths and between the barracks, passing billet after billet, picking up speed. The evening air cooled her face, and she went faster and faster. She heard feet crunching on the dirt behind her, and she walked even more rapidly, hoping to lose him.

“Private!” called Coates, and June immediately slowed for the NCO. She wiped roughly at her eyes, dragging her fingers under them, stretching out her skin and massaging circles into her temple, hard.

“Yes, sir?” she said, turning around. They were caught between two billets, and she hoped both were empty.

Coates looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he decided against it, rubbing the back of his neck and kicking at the dirt with one boot.

June wondered what he thought of her at this point. Some weak, delusional woman trying to fulfill some fantasy of a man’s world? Maybe. That’s what it seemed most of the men thought. She didn’t fault them. That was almost exactly what she was doing.

“I think this is where we part, Private,” said Coates after a long pause. June knew this was coming, so she took it with a nod. “I’ve served my purpose for the day,” he continued. “I work at Battalion HQ, so you know where to find me.”

“Yes, sir,” June said, overwhelmed by guilt yet again. She needed to say something, apologize maybe, but Coates talked on.

“Make sure you get back to the billet at twenty-two hundred,” he said. “You have free time until then, and then lights out. I don’t think you need guidance on the rest of the schedule. I hear your CO is… particularly demanding.”

June nodded, not wanting to say goodbye even though she was probably being too melodramatic about it. He was, after all, never going to be more than a number of yards away at the Battalion HQ. But to June, it was as good as miles. She’d probably never have a reason to enter HQ soon, unless Sink saw fit to talk to her or release her from base.

“You have an uphill fight, Diedtrich,” he said, leaning back against the billet and looking southwards, towards the rising mountain that arched above the camp, brushing the fault of the skies..

“Thank you,” June said suddenly. Coates looked at her, eyes widening. “Thank you, Sergeant, for sacrificing your day. Without you I would have been alone.”

He nodded, surprised. “It wasn’t any problem, Diedtrich. I got a free day out of it, as far as I’m concerned. Away from Sink and all the top brass, anyway,” he said, cracking a smile. “Brighten up, Diedtrich. You have Sink on your side, even if he doesn’t look it. If he saw something in you, there’s hope yet.”

June pondered the words. “Thanks, sir.”

“Go light on the smoking,” he said in response, easing off the wall and starting to turn back onto the path that would lead to the HQ billet. “Good luck, Private Diedtrich.”

“Goodbye, sir,” June said, wishing she could say more. Her gratitude vastly outstripped the brief words she’d gotten out. But it seemed that the final goodbye was sufficient, so she watched Coates’s retreating back until he disappeared around a corner. Her first ally was gone, and June tried to settle into the familiar loneliness that was her default these days. It fit, much to her relief, like an old, worn jacket.

She checked her watch. It was half-past seven. She looked out onto the empty, darkening field. The track around it was inviting. Her final conversation with Coates had made her rage almost completely dissipate, but she needed the outlet, even more than a smoke.

She set off for the track, intending to go around for an hour or two. When she stopped, though, she’d been going at it for two, walking and running away her thoughts until it was her and the pounding pavement and her blistering feet.

♤

June reported back to her billet thirty minutes before 2200. Light streamed through the crack in the door, and she stopped outside, listening to the voices. It would have been nice, if only her disturbance wasn’t going to destroy whatever peaceful comraderie had been developing before she arrived. Again, June was a burdensome intrusion on the lives of soldiers just trying to learn to fight. She had calmed down after the blissful emptiness of the run, and she opened the top few buttons of her ODs, flapping the chest a little to encourage ventilation. She waited for longer than necessary, then nudged the door open a few inches, watching the small view the door permitted.

Some of the men were having a rather loud conversation about something.

“No, I swear that’s her stuff,” someone protested loudly near the door. “Who else would be joining this billet?”

“Nix says she’s in Easy,” another voice added. “Of course she’s in here.”

“Hey, that’s Lieutenant Nixon to you, Perco.”

“Come on, it could be someone else. Volunteers are coming in each day,” said someone else. “We can’t assume–”

“Let’s ask Lip,” someone said. June stiffened, suddenly alert. “What were you doing in here before she came out–”

June opened the door before Lipton could respond, and looked at the men who had apparently been gossiping about her. The billet fell silent, and thirteen pairs of eyes snapped to June. She’d schooled her face into the customary one, again. When she’d be able to relax around these men who were supposed to have her back, she didn’t know; she didn’t know if it would ever occur. She pushed the discouraging thought of her mind and kept it carefully empty, gathering information quickly; she also quelled her reaction to the smell of the barracks. It should have been expected, but the wood, smoke, and sweat hit June all the same with unpleasant surprise.

Lipton was sitting on a bed to the immediate right of June, in the first row nearest to the doorway, looking rather tired of June already. Some faces she almost recognized from the incident outside the billet that afternoon, but she didn’t know their names. And then there was Guarnere, fifth row down to the left, almost exactly across from June’s empty bed, with an unlit cigarette between his fingers, and a deadly expression daring June to look a little longer.

Almost every bed was filled except for two or three near the center of the billet, and there was a man on or near each taken bed. June’s cheeks heated again under the scrutiny – something she couldn’t help – and she made a beeline towards the bed where she’d laid her things down previously. There was no more privacy, not even a semblance of one. June looked down her nose at the man sitting on the bed nearest to hers, vaguely aware that there was a fine line between making an impression that was unyielding and one that was bitchy.

She figured the men were going to call her one anyway, so she erred on the side of strictness. She said nothing, just lowered her eyelids into a mockery of passive calmness and silently took in one face at a time, praying that they didn’t hear her blood pounding deafeningly, and the miniscule tremor in her muscles as she locked them into place.

She figured she didn’t have to introduce herself. Everyone already knew who she was. As she got halfway to her bed, Lipton cleared his throat pointedly. June turned around.

“You want to uh…” he waved a hand, “introduce yourself, Private?” Lipton asked haltingly.

June cast another gaze over the rest of the billet. She saw no other alternative.

“Uh, hello,” she started, pausing and mentally cursing herself – way to make an awkward introduction even more awkward. “I’m June Diedtrich,” she said without tone.

No one said anything in response. Her statement seemed to echo in the empty air, caught in the energy of unsaid thoughts. June watched a few men exchange glances with each other. With considerable effort, she unglued herself from her stationary position and resumed her walk to her bed: fourth on the right.

When she got there, she sat down on the side next to the empty bed, feeling as if she’d exerted herself more in the five-second journey than her exercise in the past few hours. She felt simultaneously light-headed and heavier burdened, and she sat silently without making eye contact with anyone. Gradually, the men started talking again, but nowhere near as loud as before June had entered.

She waited and waited for the right time, and convinced herself she had to do it. After a few more minutes, she knew she couldn’t wait any longer, and further stalling would only be willful hesitance on her part. Just get it over with, she thought, and she started on the first few buttons, opening her ODs to the PT gear underneath. She tried to muffle the button snaps as best she could, but there was no avoiding the looks.

June fixed a murderous glare somewhere in the distance between two other bunks opposite the room – refusing to look at anyone – and undid the belt, slipping off the OD jacket quickly and setting it on the bed next to her. The conversation in the room had died down again, and she was once again the center of attention. She huffed quietly, and began undoing the buttons on the pants.

Some subtle shifts in her periphery told June that some men were trying to turn away slightly or direct their eyes elsewhere. She knew most of them still wanted to look, maybe if only for the novelty of a woman doing the same routine that they had been going through for about a month or two. She got the pants over her hips and thighs by standing slightly, and sitting back down for the rest, shucking the whole article off after pulling the bottoms out from her boots. She threw the pants down on her bed with probably more force than necessary, feeling the satisfying crinkle of fabric when it hit the jacket.

June stood up to readjust her shorts, fiddling with the tie. She looked up, feeling like she had to at some point. About half the men were openly staring and about half were acting like they weren’t when she knew they had been. She hadn’t even had to strip down to her undergarments and she felt debilitatingly embarrassed.

She packed up the ODs and laid them in her trunk, the amount of air hitting her legs feeling unnaturally inappropriate. She’d never been this unclothed in front of anyone before, other than at the beach or when she’d had to get clothing tailored, very rarely. She had no time to prepare for the unsettling exposure. She’d been thrown into it, and today was a day of firsts.

No one made any comment or whistled, to June’s minor relief. She figured that in a smaller setting, men were less inclined to single themselves out. It was the nameless mob she had to worry about, or at least she hoped.

There was another thing June had to do before bed. She unhooked her rifle from its hook above the bed, and heard more than a few hushed mutters. At least she was confident in this procedure: at West Point, the girls had learned how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble their weapons: essential Academy stuff. They had practiced with something similar to the M-1 Garand, which was what June weighed in her hands.

Someone beside her made a sound, and June turned to find the nearest man looking reasonably nervous at June’s handling of the gun. She scoffed, looking briefly at him, and then turned back to her rifle, sliding the bolt open and checking the chamber before she flipped it over on her bed and set to taking the trigger assembly out. She subsequently laid out all the parts as she deconstructed the gun, little by little. She was a little rusty, but back at the Academy, she’d mastered the skill, and the fine movements were coming back to her. She got up to retrieve some tools and a towel from her trunk, and cleaned the parts before slotting them back together.

There was nothing June could do about the mood of disbelief emanating from most of the nearby men, but she finally snapped the trigger guard back into place and played with the safety a few times to finish. She wiped her hands off and gave the bolt a few satisfied pumps. June knew a clean gun was Army standard, and that they were expected to regularly clean them. She knew no one expected her to already know. She was quietly smug, basking in the brilliance of proving the others wrong. It was a special type of fulfillment.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” came a voice from June’s left. It was the man next to her, sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking at her gun intently.

June gave something that was almost a smile, but then buried it under indifference, remembering her need for respect. Friendliness was not an option.

“West Point,” she said, turning to hang the rifle up again. There was a long silence – something that was growing very frequent in the billet.

“Bullshit,” came a voice from the other side – the second-to-last row on the left. “West Point doesn’t accept girls.”

June shrugged, trying desperately to sell an image of nonchalance. “Guess they decided to.”

“You been living in a hole, Skip?” said her bed neighbor. “It was all over the news. They have girls now,” he said.

Skip scrunched his eyebrows together, taken aback. “The hell. Why?” he said.

Most of the men shrugged. Lipton looked at June without saying anything.

“Where ya from?” asked a new voice from beyond Skip. Why anyone was interested in knowing was beyond June, but she answered.

“San Francisco.”

A few heads turned to a bed near the back. The man on it looked around, annoyed. “What?” he said.

“Lieb, aren’t you from San Francisco?”

“Kinda,” he said, mildly irritated, as if sharing a city of origin would somehow contaminate him with the association of June. “Family moved down to Oakland later.”

There were a few nods. June knew all the men were showing restraint. Normally they’d probably be talking freely.

“I’m Skinny, by the way,” said the man nearest to June. He didn’t offer a handshake, but there was something close to a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was there for sympathy. “You already know Lip, I guess, but…” He slapped the shoulder of the guy between him and Lipton. “Introduce yourself. She’s gonna have to know for drills, unless you wanna run an extra mile for her mistakes.”

June did not want to be reminded of the impending marches and group drills, and especially group punishment.

The man rolled his eyes. “I’m Alex Penkala.”

“Carwood Lipton,” said Lipton.

“Martin,” said the man with the thousand-yard stare across from Lipton. And the sequence ran down the left row.

“Grant.”

“Perconte.”

“White.”

Everyone looked at Guarnere. “Come on, Bill,” said Lipton when Guarnere didn’t say anything.

“We’ve met,” he growled.

“Roe,” said the dark-haired man next from Guarnere after an awkwardly long pause.

“Skip,” said the next.

“Malarkey,” said the man who asked her where she was from.

The last man on the right column started after Malarkey. “Tipper.”

“Liebgott.”

“Hanson.”

June looked around, trying hastily to remember all the names. There were too many, and she blinked. She was never great with names. Maybe the quirk of their nicknames would help somewhat.

She sighed. This was already hard, and they hadn’t even gotten physical yet.

“We have a few more minutes, and then lights out,” said Lipton over the billet. “I don’t know about you, but I feel a night march in my bones,” he warned, and the men groaned. Some of them threw malicious glances at June, as if it was her fault.

As June would find out, it was nearly impossible for anything to not be her fault. Their CO was demanding, as Coates had heard. In fact, Sobel was much more than demanding. He was, in June’s eyes, the devil incarnate.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #hbo war #hbo war fic #band of brothers imagine #fanfic #sister-in-arms #run the gauntlet #writing #lewis nixon

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