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demigodreading · 3 years

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Saving Mini Benson Pt:1

Request: From @youngjusticeimaginesus: Hi, I was wondering If maybe you'd be willing to do a oneshot where Olivia's daughter gets kidnapped by Lewis instead of Olivia?

Summary: That’s right my favorite peoples... This is going to be a two part mini series because there was no way everything that I needed to say could be done in a one-shot! I won’t go into much because I don’t want to give it away but please note THIS PART IS A DOOZY! The next one may be worse but still this arc made me cry in the show and I cried writing this

Characters: Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, Amanda Rollins, Nick Amaro, William Lewis, Donald Cragen, Reader

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Daughter! Reader

Warnings: MAJOR Violence, Guns, Cigarette Burns, Episode Spoilers, Alcohol, Smoking Weed, Mentions of Shootings, Death, William Lewis, Mentions of torture... (I Think that covers it but if it doesn’t please let me know)

Word Count: 2320 (Like I said.. there was no way this was gonna be just a oneshot.)

And with that all being said: Let’s jump into it.

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Olivia and her daughter rarely fought but when they did neither one wanted to admit the other one was right. Olivia loved and hated her daughter for being so similar to her. Even now as she watched the miniature version of herself stalk the interview room the exact same way she would send her heart racing. Usually the similarities would result in a smile but not today. Today Olivia’s vision was a deep red as she confronted her daughter.

“Y/N you were caught smoking weed underneath the bleachers during class! So not only did you break one rule you broke two!” Olivia shouted, folding her arms.

“Wow glad that you know how to count,” Y/N mumbled looking out the window.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Look mom I just don’t get what the big deal is? It was one joint. One class!” Y/N retorted, throwing her hands up, “I am a straight A student who has a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”

“Yes, because Barba stuck his neck out on the line for you and put in a glowing recommendation,” Olivia spat, “What you did was careless. You could have ruined everything that was given to you.”

“You know for once in your life could you ever be fucking proud of me! I do everything that I can do to make you proud and yet at the end of the day I am never fucking good enough for you.”

“That’s not…” Olivia went to argue but was interrupted by Cragen opening the door.

“Olivia we got a problem. I need you right now,” He said, then shut the door without waiting for an answer.

“Just go save another poor unfortunate soul mom. Don’t worry about your daughter. I’ll pick up my own pieces like I always do,” Y/N said, wiping tears from her face as she grabbed her coat.

Y/N stormed from the room before Olivia could stop her. She made her way through the precinct eyes trained to the floor as her mother’s voice rang out, “You better head straight home Y/N! We are not done having this conversation and you are grounded!”

Choosing not to say anything, Y/N merely raised her hand in the air flipping her mother off before the doors shut with a loud slam behind her. Tears made dark spots on the concrete as Y/N made her way back to their apartment. Even the noises of the constant car honks and people screaming couldn’t drown out the voices in her head today. Failure. Waste of space. Stupid. No one. Unwanted. Unloved.

It was the repeated song that kept her feet moving forward until she finally placed her key in the lock. She threw her bag by the kitchen island and threw her keys on the counter. She was about to turn on the living room light when a noise caught her attention.

“Hello? Hello?”

As she turned the corner her vision was filled with the sight of a gun pointed right at her temple. A smirk crossed William Lewis’ face as he looked at Y/N, “Ah welcome home Little Benson. I was hoping that it would be your mother who was walking through the door but I guess you will have to do.”

Y/N went to scream but instead Lewis jammed the gun against her throat, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One small slip of my finger and your mom will be left with a new kind of art all over her walls.”

Y/N let a single tear roll down her face before Lewis’ gun made contact with her skull and the whole world went black.

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Olivia had already tried to call Y/N twice but it kept going straight to voicemail. The last known location had been their apartment so at least she had the sense to head straight home. The guilt in Olivia’s stomach was insurmountable. Watching her daughter explain that she never felt like she lived up to her standards. Olivia had promised herself when she had Y/N she would never end up like her mother. Yet there she was shaming her child for one mistake. Y/N was more than just a good kid, she was excellent. She was smart, beautiful, humorous, kind, and so much more. She was everything Olivia could have ever hoped for. Knowing that her daughter thought she wasn’t proud was the worst pain she could have.

After the third call Olivia finally decided to leave a voicemail, “Y/N I know you are mad but I need you to know something. I am proud of you and will always be proud of you. You are the best daughter and the most amazing human. I was rough on you early. Please let’s talk through this. I’ll be home soon with your favorite Chinese. Just don’t do anything stupid? I love you.”

When she hung up the phone she placed her head in her hands and let out a large sigh. Fin placed a reassuring hand on her back, “Liv, it is going to be okay. She is just being a teenager.”

“No Fin, you should have seen her. It was like I was physically taking her heart out and ripping it in front of her. I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean any of them… I was just upset.”

“She knows, they always know.”

Olivia merely shook her head and began to gather her things to head home. She walked out of the precinct without a goodbye and headed down the street to Y/N’s favorite Chinese place. They knew what she was going to order as soon as she walked in the door asking where Y/N was. Liv pushed off their question and scrolled through her phone as she waited for the food. Y/N’s phone was still off giving Olivia an eerie feeling as she finished the walk to the apartment.

Once inside she noticed Y/N’s bag on the floor and her keys on the counter. There was a sudden rush of cold air that made her notice the window that was open to the fire escape. She shut it quickly and then moved to Y/N’s room. The door was still open with everything the way she had left it that morning. Once her calls were unanswered Olivia opened the window again crawling onto the fire escape. Sometimes Y/N would go to the roof to watch the sun slowly crawl behind the buildings.When she reached the top however she was met with an unsettling emptiness.

Olivia reached for her phone to call the only person who was able to calm her anxiety lately, “Amaro, Y/N isn’t here. I can’t find her. What if something happened to her?”

“She probably just went to a friend’s house to get away,” Amaro replied stirring the contents of his drink, “She will be back in the morning just to relax. Sleep off the anger and come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

Liv pondered this suggestion over and over deciding what she should do. When the silence became too long Amaro interjected again, “Liv, I’m serious. You two had the biggest blow out that I have seen in awhile. Give her time to be mad at you and think. If you smother her she might only push further away from you.” She thanked her partner for the advice and then shoved her phone back in her pocket taking a sweep of the roof once again. Finally she slowly made her way back to the apartment shutting the window with a slam before locking it. Olivia wandered over to the kitchen moving the cereal that covered the top of the fridge to get to her secret cupboard. From the opening she pulled a large bottle of her favorite red wine. She popped the cork and decided to forgo a cup taking a long swig directly from the green glass. A large sigh escaped her lips as she plopped down on the couch going over the events of the day in her head.

As the contents of the bottle slowly drained till there was nothing else Olivia realized her fears were all coming true. She was becoming her mother. A woman she never once wanted to be. Three empty bottles later she finally curled under Y/N’s sheets crying into her pillow until she finally was able to fall asleep.

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The next morning when Y/N did not return and her phone was still shut down all bets were off. Olivia was furious but more importantly she was terrified. Something was horribly wrong. Her morning was spent talking to Y/N’s two best friends and searching their houses for her. When that search was unsuccessful Olivia went to the school hoping Y/N had gone there. However, she had been absent all day and there hadn’t even been a call to excuse her from the day.

When the morning bled into the afternoon Olivia was running around the city to all of Y/N’s usual hangout spots. The search of the library told her that Y/N hadn’t been there in over a week. The local bakery hadn’t seen her in three days. The coffee shop where Y/N always bought Olivia’s coffee when she came to see her at work had seen her two mornings ago but nothing since then. Even the old lady that had Y/N over twice a week to help her with errands and chores around the house hadn’t seen her.

It was dark by the time that Olivia fell into her desk chair at the precinct. With her head in her hands she let the tears fall. A whole day was gone and there was still no sign of her daughter. If she had been kidnapped they were running out of time and losing it quickly. The longer she was out there the longer the person had to get away with whatever they wanted.

The squad huddled around in Cragen’s office looking at Olivia curled over her desk. Rollins was the first one to speak, “I bet you Lewis has something to do with this.”

“And what makes you think that?” Amaro asked, “There are plenty of people who could have a vendetta against Liv.”

“It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah well have you ever considered the idea that maybe Y/N just ran away,” Amaro retorted.

Fin, Cragen, and Amanda all turned towards Amaro, shocked. Cragen was the first one to speak, “I know you haven’t been here long Amaro but this isn’t Y/N. Something is horribly wrong and we are going to figure out what is going on. Fin and Amanda go check out Lewis’ usual hiding spots. I’ll take Liv through her apartment once again to see if we missed anything.”

“And me cap?”

“Amaro… you stay here and set up a tip line,” Cragen responded curtly and then they all disappeared to find where Y/N had disappeared to.

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Y/N woke with a jolt as she felt cold water splash her face. She was met with Lewis staring only a couple inches away from her face. He grinned and grabbed Y/N’s chin as she tried to look away, “Well well there. Looks like someone is finally awake. Feeling thirsty?”

Y/N nodded her head yes waiting to scream as he curled his fingers around the edge of the duct tape. As he was about to pull it away he jammed a gun against Y/N’s throat, “Make any noise and I will shove this gun straight down your throat.”

Finally when he pulled the tape away Y/N spit right in his face, “Just shoot me already if you are going to threaten me with it.”

“And miss out on all of our fun Mini Benson. I think not. There is plenty that I want to do to you before then.”

Y/N began to panic as Lewis lit another cigarette. She remembered the way the others had burned against her chest and sides. She had lost count after twenty perfect circle burns and after the second pistol whip to the face she had passed out a second time, She couldn’t go through all of that again.

“My mom knows I am missing and she will be out looking for me. Just let me go and she will never have to know that you did it. Please,” YN begged.

“What is she going to think about that bruise on your face? Or the marks on your skin? I can’t let you go… plus I know that you both fought before you came home. I bet you that she thinks you just ran away and are leaving her,” Lewis chuckled.

“How.. how did you know that we fought?

“This lovely voicemail your mother left you,” Lewis said, placing your phone against your ear.

Tears began to run down Y/N’s face as she heard the apology her mother had sent her. Damnit! Why did I have to fight with her? We could have avoided all of this. Is the mantra that ran through her head as Lewis slammed the phone against her head and threw it at the wall.

“She isn’t coming for you,” Lewis snickered.

“Please… just let me go. I will do anything.”

Lewis pulled his gun and placed it against Y/N’s scalp, “You are still bargaining with me? Really. We are way past that baby.”

“I am the daughter of an NYPD detective. A decorated well known detective. My mother, her partner, her squad, the entire department will hunt you down. You think that you’ve put people through hell. It will rain back down on you.”

“You know what… let it rain,” Lewis said and then hit Y/N once again making her world go black for a third time.

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 4 years

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🌔🔥Miami Nights🔥🌔

Prompt: Roman’s little bossy attitude towards Y/N will lead them to one of the most sensual nights they’ve had.

Word count: Long...

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, jealousy, a little bit of angst, “make up sex”, cursing, dirty talking (‘cuz we already know I’m a sucker for it!), praise kink and even a little bit of ass worship (because you can never go wrong with that! 😉)

Tag: @jibbles26 , @lustyromantic , @reigns-5sos , @mindofasagittaruis , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @ziasaph

Notes: So, the fact that I’m a lover of rough smut is no secret (I mean, have you seen the shit I write?!) but something that hits you different is a good old sensual smut! Just the intimacy and slow deep movements of it are just worth drooling.. I’ve been wanting to write a more sensual scene for a while so here you go! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊)You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

My heels click clack fast upon the stairs as I make my way down to the first floor, severely searching for my phone around the living room.

“What are you looking for?” His deep voice echoed from behind me

“Jesus Christ, Roman! You startled me. I’m looking for my phone, have you seen it?”

“Do you mean this one?” He showed me my phone in his hand

“Oh, thank you baby. I-“ I stopped when instead of giving me the phone, he tossed onto his joggings side pocket.

“What are you doing? Give me my phone, please”

“Where are you going to?” He asks, ignoring my request

“My boss called saying he got a last time meeting with that big potential French buyer and asked me to help him with the translation”

He raised his eyebrows “And you’re dressed like this” He scoots closer, pulling at the hem of my black pencil skirt “Just to meet him?”

“I have to dress nicely. It’s a work meeting, so yeah, I need to dress in work clothes” I spat, not really liking where this was going

“Couldn’t you have ‘dressed nicely’ with pants?”

“What’s your point, Roman?” I ask slightly annoyed

“My point is: You’re dressed in a pencil skirt that will make any alive man stare directly at your ass, your cleavage is so deep that I can see your bra” He leans in “You’re wearing your Givenchy perfume, makeup, heels...all of that, just for a meeting with a buyer?” His voice had an incredulous tone to it

“Yes! I just told you it’s a work thing, how do you expect me show up there? With sweatpants and flip flops?!”

He’s still staring at me as he coldly said

“You’re not going out on that outfit”

“WHAT? Are you kidding me? Since when do you prohibit me from wearing something?”

“Since now!” He growled

I bitterly laughed “Sorry my dear, but I’m not one of our children! You don’t tell me what to do. You’re my husband, not my father!”

He closes the distance between us

“Do you really expect me to believe that you’re looking all hot like that for a last minute meeting? I’m not that dumb, baby girl. To me, that smells like there’s some other male trying to piss at my lawn and I don’t like that” His voice is dangerously low

“Are you suggesting that I’m romantically seeing my boss?” I ask in disbelief

“No, you wouldn’t do that. But him on the other hand, always had a soft spot for you. So yeah, I think he pulled together this whole ‘last minute meeting’ thing just so he can be alone with you. That’s why, you’re gonna go upstairs take off that makeup and that outfit and put on something less provocative”

“I’ve ALWAYS dressed like this to work! Even when I worked at the WWE and you’ve never had a problem with it before”

“I have a problem with it now” He growled

“Roman, are you listening to yourself? You better bring that attitude down! That whole ‘tribal chief’ gimmick thing is going up your head”

“You’re not leaving this house in that outfit!” He roars

“That’s nonsense! Give me my phone back, please”

“No” He calmly answered

“Give me my fucking phone, Roman” I spat

“You want your phone back? Go upstairs and change that outfit” He explained like if I was a kid

“Give me my phone!” I try to grab the phone out of his side pocket, but before I could, he grabbed my wrists forcefully. Locking them in his grip, behind my back.

“Oh, you’re in big trouble now” He devilishly laugh

I try to release my wrists from his grip but it was too tight

“Roman, let me go”

“Why should I? I mean, you were brave enough to try to take your phone away from me, so you can be brave enough to free yourself”

I try to pull on my wrists but the more I try to the harder he grips

“Roman, you’re gonna hurt me, let.me.go” I punctuated so maybe he’ll understand

“Stop fighting then!” He pushes me forward with the hand that is on my back securing my wrists, I tripped and he holds me in place by my ass, with his free hand

“This is mine” He slaps my ass forcefully, making me look up at him with pure hatred

“Don’t give me that look” He warned

“You’re gonna make me loose my job!” I start to fight against his firm grip, in despair to release myself

Roman then holds my body against his by my waist

“Behave” He chuckled

I was already pretty annoyed, to be honest, so I spat

“If you don’t let me go, I swear to God I’ll forget that you are my husband and I’m gonna kick your balls so hard, they’re gonna fly out of your mouth!”

He stares at me and let me go

“My phone, please” I reach out my hand so he can place the phone in it, which he obliged.

The front door opened and the kids ran inside like maniacs followed by Jey, who’s holding some bags from the local Candy Shop.

“This isn’t over yet” Roman whispered

“Man, I tell you, the amount of candy that shop has is out of this world!” He chuckled while chewing on something covered in chocolate. He looked at us and said

“Uh oh, I feel some tension...Did I had a bad timing?”

“No, Jey” I say “You couldn’t have a better timing not even if you tried to!” I look away from Roman to get my hand bag and the kids ran to us to show what uncle Jey had bought them.

...................................................................

I came home around 10 p.m. The reunion was a success and we had managed to close a deal with one of the French buyers we were hoping to get a contract with. He was in Vancouver for business and was able to attend the meeting through a video conference.

One part of me was excited to tell Roman about it because he knew how much that contract would help me in both career and money wise. But the other part of me was still mad at him for that little stunt he put up earlier.

I walk through the living room to place my hand bag and phone at the coffee table when the lamp by the armchair went on.

“Did you had fun?” Roman asked with a cold voice

“Sweet Lord, Roman! Do you want to kill me?”

“It must have been quite fun, I mean, for you to have came back home just now”

“You do know there’s a timezone of -3 hours from Vancouver to Florida right?”

“I didn’t asked that, I asked if you had fun”

I look at him in disbelief and say

“Look, I don’t know what’s up with the whole Samoan Don Corleone thing, but I’m really tired” I sighed

“Come here Y/N”

“What? You’re gonna ask me to kiss your ring too, Don Samoan?” I mock

He cackled at my little joke and stood up from the armchair, walking towards me.

“You and your clever little mouth, right baby? Always putting yourself in trouble with those pretty lips” His smile fade-away and he quickly pulled my head up by my hair

“I think you’re forgetting that you’re walking on thin ice right now and I wouldn’t test me if I were you”

“Where are the kids?” I ask faintly

“At Jey’s, for a sleep over” His smile is now purely evil

“Did you planned this, then?”

“C’mon baby, how are you gonna be able to scream my name while I fuck you senseless if the kids are at home?” He leans in to sniff the nape of my neck

“I love when you wear this perfume, it drives me crazy! It makes me want to fuck you all night long” He sucks on my neck “You look good enough to eat Y/N. That skirt baby...it’s gonna be the death of me! Give me a 360, baby girl” He said, intertwining our fingers and slowly turning me around while whistling at me.

“What is this all about?” I ask, suspicious about his true intentions

“What do you mean?”

“The whole complimenting me for the one thing you made a whole fuss about it earlier”

“What? Can’t I compliment my gorgeous wife?” He asked innocently

“I’m not saying that! I’m just saying that I find it suspicious the fact that earlier we almost got into an argument because of this outfit and now your throwing praises at it” I crook an eyebrow at him

He smiles “You know me so well it’s actually embarrassing!” He chuckled

“Ok baby girl, you got me! I felt guilty, ok? I regretted being so rude with you earlier, you didn’t deserve it”

“So why did you do it, Ro?”

“Because I got jealous! I mean, the time we have together is short and it’s mostly taken by the kids, we barely have any alone couple time and I miss you! I miss having my wife, having you: Y/N! Not the mom version or the professional version of you, but just my wife. All to myself” He scoots closer “So when I saw you dressed up all nice like this, smelling so good and looking so beautiful I remembered how it used to be back then...when you worked at WWE and I used to sneak out to your hotel bedroom at night so we could spend the night together because you didn’t wanted people to know about us. I remembered the amount of convincing that I had to do, for you to finally agree to make us an official thing. How we thought that our marriage wouldn’t survive with me being on the road and you at home with the kids. How many times I couldn’t sleep at night ‘cause I got scared thinking that I could lose you after that fight we’ve had when Ben was born” Roman hugs my waist and look me in the eyes “I felt the same fear earlier today, I know that’s on me and not on you but... I couldn’t help it, I got carried away by my jealousy and I apologize for that. You’re a beautiful woman! Gorgeous face, delicious body, a goddess in the bedroom, strong personality, such a kind soul and a heart made of gold. And I’m a selfish man! I don’t wanna lose you, I can’t afford to lose you...I want you all to myself, body and soul” He leans in to capture my lips in the most romantic, sensual, long kiss.

“Do you forgive me?” He whispered

“I don’t know...maybe I need some more convincing” I tease him and he laughed, knowing it was all good between us

“What can I do to convince you, baby?”

“Lose the shirt and the pants and sit on the armchair”

He happily obliged, sitting on the armchair with eyes filled with excitement

“Can you help me with this?” I point towards the skirt’s zipper innocently

He smirked and I got closer to the chair. Roman reaches the zipper, pulling it down torturously slow.

“Take it off, Ro”

He slowly pulls it down, savoring every inch of my ass being exposed to him, with each tug at the skirt he nibs and kisses the recently discovered skin. And I couldn’t be happier to be wearing a new lace set in a beautiful midnight blue shade.

The skirt became a pile of fabric around my ankles as Roman growls: squeezing, biting, licking and kissing my ass while I take off my white dress shirt.

“Fuck Y/N, baby...I’m in love with your ass”

I giggled at his choice of words

“It looks so fucking good in this blue color. Is this a new set?” He asks, still kissing and biting it.

“Yeah, I bought it last week. I thought it looked good so-“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence due to the forceful tug he gave my hips so I could sit down on his lap.

“It looks insanely good, baby” He whispered in my ear, kneading my breasts softly through the lace.

“And the bra too...they make your boobs look full as fuck! I love it”

I feel his erection resting against my ass and I can’t help but grind my hips to it.

“Hmmm baby, you’re so hot, so fucking hot. The hottest woman I’ve ever met” He pressed my hips further down to his bulge

“You never fail to turn me on baby girl, you’ve always had the power to make my cock rock hard for you”

“Just for me?” I ask with a voice raspy from pleasure, reaching my arm around his neck so I can pull his lips towards my ear

“Always just for you, baby. Ever since he tasted you, he got addicted and wants only you” Roman whispered

His voice always worked wonders on me. How deep his voice is, the things he says...it was always an infallible combination.

We explored each other’s body until we couldn’t wait it anymore.

I stand up to remove my lace panties and bra and he loses his boxer briefs, sitting back at the armchair with me on his lap. I lifted up a bit, so he can enter my core and oh, how I missed my man!

I start a front to back motion, holding onto Roman’s thighs for support while my thighs are closed shut in between his opened ones. I circled my hips in deep, slow circles from time to time so he can sink all the way in.

“Yeah, keep doing that baby girl. Fuck, it looks so sexy when you ride me like this” He moaned

And that’s my intention: a sensual, lustful, intimate sex.

Roman roamed one arm around my hips until his hand stopped at my mound

“Spread your legs a little bit, baby” He asks

I do it and two of his fingers start to rub my clit at the same pace of my riding.

“Oh, Ro...fuck me babe, that feels so good” I reach my arm back, so I can toss it around his neck, pulling him closer to me. The change of positions made his cheek rest against the side of my breast. I look down and see him staring at his hand on my clit.

“Baby” I wine, making him look up to me. And when he did I leaned down to capture his full lips in a deep kiss.

Once apart he cupped my cheek with his free hand

“I love you Y/N, so fucking much baby girl”

“I love you too Ro, the only man I’ll ever want” I smiled

“Promise me?” He asked

“Promise” I leaned down to kiss him again

I felt him twitch inside of me, a sign he was close to coming.

“Are you gonna cum inside this pussy, baby?” I smirked

“I can’t hold it back anymore, baby girl. You’re riding me so good and your pussy is milking my cock so nicely that I just can’t hold it” He laughs and kisses the side of my breast

“Cum for me baby, cum right on your pussy” I whispered in his ear

“Mine” He growled and turned up the pace of his fingers on my clit

“Yours” I moaned as I could feel my own release rising

Roman pressed our foreheads together as we reach our high in between moans. As we’re recovering our breath he says

“Damn baby, that was something!” Taking a deep breath in

“Did I just took your breath away, Reigns?” I chuckled

“Fuck yeah, that was the hottest sex we’ve had in the last 2 months”

“You’re unbelievable!” I laughed hard

“What? I’m serious! My girl is always giving me some breath taking sex” He said seriously, pulling me closer to his chest

“I’m glad you think that way because I already want a round 2” I sucked on his lower lip

“Oh baby, you’ll have the round 2, 3, 4, 5...’Cuz the kids won’t be back until tomorrow at 9 p.m.” He licks my neck

“Are you serious?” I whispered excitedly

He nods “I told you I missed my wife” He winks and take me on his arms bridal style

“Let’s go baby girl, round 2 awaits!” He laughed carrying us up to our bedroom

Where our night was just getting started

Please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedback is always appreciated 🥰😘

#roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe fanfiction #masochist writes

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floralseokjin · 3 years

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⤑ made-up love song drabbles

Seokjin’s chapter ix

kim seokjin x reader warnings; angst, this feels pretty heavy at certain points but gets lighter as you go on, there’s a therapy session included, and just a lot of introspection words; 7,459

author’s note; this kind of ran away with me, wasn’t expecting it to be so long haha but I hope you enjoy!

Read the original chapter ix here

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

After you left Seokjin immediately poured the rest of his whisky down the sink and rinsed his glass. His mind was whirring, head heavy and starting to throb. He swallowed two painkillers down with some water and took a deep breath. He felt like crying. It felt like everything was crumbling around him. All his recent happiness, all his progress, and now possibly it seemed, his relationship with you…

He’d wanted nothing more than to beg you to stay, and he had to an extent, but he knew it wasn’t right. He closed his eyes, not quite believing you’d witnessed all that. You probably thought he was a monster. He hadn’t lost his temper quite like that in a while, not since before the divorce… Embarrassment washed over him, yet he couldn’t stop himself from still being mad at Nana. He knew what you said made sense. He knew he’d been out of line but Nana continuously goaded him. She’d done so throughout their marriage. But he was no saint, he knew how to provoke her too. It’s what they did best.

He moved away from the sink and tried to quash his anger, instead thinking of you and how much he had hurt and upset you. He hadn’t meant for it to get that bad, and he knew deep down that the reason he was so angry was because he’d brought it all on himself. He caused the incident by keeping his relationship with you secret. It hadn’t been on purpose, he wasn’t being vindictive, if anyone would believe him. He just… He had been selfish. He didn’t want to ruin anything because he was finally really happy after god knows how long. It was stupid in hindsight, but what was done was done now.

He reached for Arin’s mug of hot chocolate and fresh waves of guilt and emotion hit him. She didn’t deserve any of this. He needed to be there for her, to push his own troubles away and put on a brave face because none of this was her fault. She needed to know that. Thankfully, the drink hadn’t grown cold yet, and he finished it off with some cream and mini marshmallows. He took one last deep breath and made his way down the hallway. Moping was no good for him. That’s what Chaewon always said.

Arin looked happy to see him, instantly reaching out to him as he took a seat next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close, kissing the top of her head. He immediately felt lighter with relief. His daughter had always been his magical cure, and even though a cuddle wouldn’t make everything in his life right again, it certainly helped, and was very much needed. She asked where you were at one point, and unsure what to say, and feeling like shit for lying, he quickly said you needed to be somewhere. Arin probably didn’t buy it, looking dubious as a result of today, bus she didn’t say anything, asking instead if they could watch a movie.

She wasn’t very talkative, and he didn’t blame her. Neither was he. He spent most of Shrek the Third lost in his own thoughts. As his anger slowly drifted away, shame replaced it. He’d been absolutely awful today and even if some of the things he’d said to Nana came from a valid place of concern, most were shouted for no reason other than frustration and hatred on his part. He was ashamed of himself.

After the movie finished, Arin complained she was feeling hungry, so he left her to pick a new movie while he found something to cook up for dinner. He caught sight of the bowl of salad and his heart sunk, remembering the picnic outside. There was no salvaging it now, everything had probably spoiled in the sun, and as he waited for Arin’s dinner to cook, he went outside with a garbage bag, throwing away all the food you’d painstakingly prepared. It felt like he was throwing your relationship in the trash. He didn’t eat with that thought in mind, managing one piece of toast before it turned on him.

At around 6pm his phone started to ring, vibrating in his front pocket and giving him a shock. For a split second he prayed it was you, but he knew he was being foolish. You needed time and if he was being honest with himself, so did he. He needed to concentrate on Arin tonight, as much as he…loved…you, his daughter’s wellbeing was the most important thing. If he could just make sure Arin was okay, then tomorrow he could concentrate on you and him.

Pulling out the device he saw it was Nana. He suddenly felt very, very sick but picked up with a cautious hello. He was almost 100% sure she wanted to speak with Arin, the only way she could seeing as Arin was too young to have a phone of her own, but he was still wary, not wanting a repeat of earlier.

“I want to speak to my daughter.” There was anger to her tone, and he knew her well enough to understand she had her guard up right now. She’d left his place upset and emotional, and that was two of the things she hated people seeing. Especially him. She hated being vulnerable.

Seokjin sighed weakly. “Nana, come on, don’t be like that.” He hesitated, wanting to say sorry for today but the word wouldn’t come. Despite the guilt setting in, he was still pretty angry and frustrated himself.

“I want to speak with Arin,” she repeated. “Will you let me?”

“Of course I will,” he replied. What did she take him for?

He turned to Arin, ready to tell her it was her mom on the phone, but she was already waiting, her ears probably catching Nana’s name a few seconds previous. He smiled gently at her and passed his cell phone over. He tried to concentrate on the television as they spoke, not wanting to eavesdrop. Arin was uncharacteristically quiet as she hummed along to whatever Nana was saying, the occasional okay and I know slipping from her lips as she curled a lock of hair around her finger over and over again, but he understood why. Today had been overwhelming for everyone involved but especially her. She hadn’t seen or heard them argue in a long time, both he and Nana careful to hide them from her as of late. Today had been an awful mistake and the now a stronger wave of guilt was eating him up.

After a few minutes he heard Arin tell her mother she loved her and then she hung up, returning the phone to Seokjin. He stretched over and placed the device on the coffee table, turning back to his daughter apologetically. “I’m sorry about today, Arin.”

She immediately flung herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his sides to hug him tight. He squeezed her right back, running his fingers through her hair gently. “Daddy was really angry, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“Mommy shouted too,” she reminded him. “She was angry that I called Y/N my stepmom.” Hesitantly she looked up at him, her eyes wide with worry. “I didn’t know it was wrong.”

Seokjin sighed gently, trying to see things from Nana’s point of view. “It’s not a wrong word. It’s just a word that hurt your mother’s feelings.” Arin looked a little confused by that explanation, and suddenly Seokjin felt the urge to be as honest as he could with her. She was still young, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. Far from it actually. She deserved not to be kept in the dark.

“She… she didn’t know that Y/N is my girlfriend.”

“Why?”

“I was wrong and didn’t tell her.”

Arin stayed silent as she mulled his words over. After a few moments she simply said, “I didn’t know that.”

Seokjin ran a hand down her back, choosing his next words carefully. “Will you tell me what happened today? How mommy found out?”

Arin wriggled away from him to get comfier, sitting back against the sofa again. Seokjin copied, lifting his arm up so she could cuddle up to him. “She asked if I had a new bracelet and I told her Y/N had bought it for me last weekend when I stayed with her.”

Looking down at her wrist now, Seokjin saw no bracelet and he guessed Arin had taken it off in a bid not to hurt her mom even more. She was such a sweet child, always thinking of other people’s feelings.

“Mommy asked who she was and I said she was my stepmom – only because Suzie told me that’s what she is. Suzie has one too and it was fun because then we both had stepmoms.”

Seokjin nodded along in understanding. “It’s okay, it was only a misunderstanding. But to use that word it needs to be discussed first, okay?”

It was Arin’s turn to nod and Seokjin continued carefully. He was well aware everything was up in the air now so it hurt hearing the words that came out of his own month. “Right now Y/N is just Y/N. Before we use that word we have to make sure she likes it, alright? And mommy too.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t,” he comforted, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He wasn’t even too sure she knew what exactly the word meant.

They both stayed silent for a little while before Arin spoke again. “You and mommy haven’t argued for a long time until today…because I said that word…”

“Hey,” Seokjin exclaimed softly wanting her to look his way. “We didn’t argue because of you. None of this is your fault, okay? It’s my fault and I’m really sorry.”

She gave him a small smile and patted his head. “It’s okay, daddy. I still love you.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. He could always count on his daughter to cheer him up. “Thank you, Arin.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you too. Very much.”

The new week started off badly. He had been foolish to think Mondays were something of a fresh start, foolish to think calling you first thing in the morning was a good idea, and as you told him you needed some space and that you’d call him once the week was over he couldn’t help but think the worst. You’d insisted that you weren’t mad at him, and you had no reason to lie to him, but there was no doubt you were upset… overwhelmed. That morning he’d woken up even more ashamed of the way he’d acted the day before, wincing as he remembered the way he’d lost his temper. He’d sworn that he would never let that side of himself appear ever again, but it was easier said than done. Nana had struck a nerve with the way she had spoken to you and it had been impossible to keep his cool.

He felt deeply ashamed when he thought about how confused you must have felt watching he and his ex-wife hurl abuse at each other. Deeply ashamed when he thought about the way you’d found out things he had never told you… You were hurt he’d never let you know what triggered his divorce, and he understood why completely. It wasn’t like it hadn’t crossed his mind to share such a personal detail with you, it had, of course it had, he just couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Your experience with infidelity was the complete opposite of his. You had your heart torn to pieces by your ex-fiancé and he had his ego bruised… His marriage with Nana had already been completely over, he just didn’t have the guts to get out. She was correct, he was a coward through and through.

But most of all he was deeply ashamed of his behaviour entirely. He had never meant to compare the both of you. He had never meant to use you to hurt Nana. It was extremely petty, such a low blow, and he didn’t know where it had come from. Rage had washed over him and he’d spat words that he couldn’t take back. It was the worst thing he’d ever done in his entire life, and despite the grievances he had with Nana, he regretted those words deeply. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her like that. It was shameful, and he felt horrendous for hurting both women with his foolish behaviour.

Was there a happy ending after this? If Nana didn’t already hate him, she did now, and you were probably not too far behind. You’d seen him at his most poisonous, heard him use you to prove a point, found out things he’d kept from you, and learned he’d kept you a secret from his ex-wife. How embarrassed you must have felt… How confused… He’d made so many mistakes along the way, it was a wonder they hadn’t caught up with him sooner…

He wouldn’t be able to bear it if you wound up hating him. Not when he loved you so much. He hadn’t even had a chance to confess yet, coming so close to it Saturday night but backing out because he was scared it was too soon. He’d made the decision there and then to tell you once he took you to Paris, getting swept away with the idea and the romance of it all, but now the regret for not professing his love that night was like a lead weight inside his chest. Would it have changed anything? Would yesterday have had a different outcome?

And while he was regretting things, he regretted not letting Nana know about the relationship. Yesterday could have been avoided completely – maybe.

The more he thought, the worse it got and by Tuesday he could feel himself spiralling. He knew the feeling all too well. Soobin had already worked out something was the matter. (His lack of morning shave a dead giveaway.) And that meant he was doing a terrible job at hiding his mood. He couldn’t have Arin sensing the same. She obviously hadn’t forgotten about the weekend and wouldn’t anytime soon, but he couldn’t make it worse for her. He needed to be there for her, as her father, not too busy distracted with his own misery. It was selfish.

But he couldn’t suppress it all. He knew that was unhealthy. So, Tuesday night, once Arin was tucked up in bed sound asleep, he called the one person his former happiness had been neglecting for months now…

“Seokjin,” Chaewon greeted, her warm voice laced with surprise. “Long time no speak.”

He felt guilt immediately wash over him. “Yeah… I’m sorry about that.” It was stupid really, she wasn’t taking it personally, he could guarantee that, but nevertheless it was an emotion he was all too familiar with these days.

Chaewon chuckled. “Don’t apologise for being happy and not needing me.”

His heart twisted.

She sensed his trouble. “Jin?”

He hesitated, looking down at the bottle of whisky sat at his desk. He was in his home office. “Something happened.”

There was silence as his therapist processed his vague words before she pressed him gently, “Oh?”

He took a breath. “Are you free to talk?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m sorry for calling you out of hours.” He apologised. “Don’t feel bad about billing me for this. I’ll even pay double.”

“Seokjin, don’t be silly,” she told him softly. “Let’s name this a friendship call. Now, what’s wrong?” She sensed the last bit of reluctance he was holding onto. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”

He sighed. “I don’t know where to start.”

“How about from the beginning?”

They spoke for an hour in the end, Chaewon listening attentively as he explained the weekend’s events. He left nothing out, or least what he could remember. He made no attempt to hide his wrongdoings or soften the story. He didn’t want to. He knew he had done wrong. She was sympathetic, but she didn’t mince her words when it came to her disappoint in him.

After the argument he and Nana had gotten into just before Arin had moved in with him, he had worked hard with Chaewon to find a way to curb the anger he often felt when he and his ex-wife communicated. He thought he had been successful, but now he realised all he’d done was find ways to avoid it. He barely spoke to Nana unless he had to, a hello barely exchanged when she called in the evenings to speak to their daughter. A text shared to confirm when Arin would get picked up for the weekend, or one shared to cancel visits… He saw her even less. Jia, Nana’s PA and closest friend was the one who collected their daughter, and he knew it was because his ex-wife wanted to avoid him just as much.

In the long term they had just been making things worse. That’s why last Sunday had been so bad. A build-up of every single frustration felt since the last time they’d seen one another, because no doubt Nana had her own list. It was a recipe for disaster.

It felt good to confide in someone though, someone who knew him very well on a professional and personal level. Chaewon was amazing at putting him in his place so kindly. It was a gift really, and he appreciated it immensely. The older woman saw his negative traits but never judged him. She understood them and tried her best to help him with them. He guessed that was her job, but she did it so well it was hard not to see her as some sort of friend.

That’s why when she asked to see him in person tomorrow he didn’t hesitate to free up his schedule. Truth was, he wanted it too. His mind was still clouded and he needed her insight. Her advice. He wanted a good night sleep too but he didn’t think that would be possible any time soon, no matter how much Chaewon tried to help him. Not when his sheets continued to smell like you…

“It’s about time you both let go of the past.”

Seokjin let Chaewon’s words sink in as he sat opposite her, nervously chewing on a nail. It wasn’t a habit of his, but it was somewhat of a distraction right now. A comfort. They should have let go of the past a long time ago. Maybe then they would have divorced sooner. Maybe then there would be less resentment….

“Arin is the one thing you have in common and you need to work together in order to be the best possible parents you can.”

That cut his heart deep, a twinge similar to what he’d felt all week. Ever since you left. “I know,” he replied quietly. “It’s just…”

He couldn’t continue. Despite how he’d insinuated Nana was a bad mother, he didn’t think that deep down. They both loved their daughter equally, but that love was separate. It had been separate practically since she was born. Arin was missing their combined love, although she knew no different…

“You need to let go of all that bitterness and resentment.” Chaewon continued. Words she had said fairly regularly for the last two years or so. “For your sake, for Arin’s…” But now there was a new addition. “…and Y/N’s.”

Seokjin snorted. “Who said I haven’t scared her away already?”

Chaewon stare turned a little stern. “It was a shock to the system, anyone would need some time to process what happened.” When he stayed silent, she continued. “You have to make her see you’re trying your best to change things. You need to take responsibility for your actions.”

“I will.”

He wanted nothing more than to apologise profusely and answer any questions you had, but you’d requested time first and he was listening. He was just scared that time would work against him. He continued on, ignoring his deepest, darkest worry.

“It’s not fair on her. She should never have witnessed all that, and it just drums in how unfair this has been to Arin her whole life.” Arin had been the witness to many an argument when he and Nana were still married. “I hurt the people closet to me because of my careless actions,” he concluded with a sad smile. Time after time.

“And it’s not too late to change that,” Chaewon reminded. “Put a stop to all this nonsense.”

Seokjin’s smile grew for a millisecond, feeling like a child getting told off.

“Your marriage with Nana didn’t work out, that’s life. But you have a beautiful little girl together. That’s the most important thing, and it goes hand in hand with your own happiness.” She paused and then continued. “It’s very obvious that Y/N brings a great deal of that to the table.”

Yes, you did make him deliriously happy. He felt young again when he was with you. He felt invincible. Loved. He felt loved.

“Concentrate on both of them – Arin and Y/N – and make some changes. Talk to Nana – civilly. Make this work and you can all be happy. I promise you that.”

He had never heard Chaewon like this before, she was practically pleading with him. He let out a little laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

She simply smiled at him. “If you’re determined enough, it is.”

“Mom wants to talk to you.”

Seokjin looked at his phone outstretched in Arin’s hand with slight confusion. For the past four nights, ever since Sunday, Nana had spoken with Arin just before she had to get ready for bed. It was routine now, another avoidance, he exchanged a hello with her and then passed the phone on. Her tone less defensive as the days went on. Tonight had been the same despite his session with Chaewon this lunchtime. But to his surprise, maybe Nana was making the first move.

He took the phone from Arin with a smile, not wanting to make her nervous. Usually he left her alone to speak to her mother, not wanting to pry or insert himself but tonight he was sat next to her on the sofa, replying to emails on his laptop. He hadn’t been listening at all, too engrossed with finalising details for an upcoming project, so of course it had come as a shock to find Arin passing the phone to him.

“Hello?”

“I was just wondering if I could have Arin this weekend.” Nana totally bypassed a greeting of any kind, but she wasn’t demanding in her tone, nor defensive, it was just the way she was. She’d always been straight to the point, no time for pleasantries, and many years ago, when they’d first met, he’d found it highly amusing.

“Um, of course,” he replied, taken back a little. He would be more than happy for her to have Arin. It wasn’t her weekend, but that had never bothered him before. He wanted Arin to see her as much as possible. It was only fair seeing as their daughter now lived with him.

There was a brief silence before Nana spoke again. Had she been expecting him to say no? Surely not. But then again, after last weekend maybe her worries were valid. She found her bearings. “What time does she finish school? I’m taking Friday out, I’ll drive down and collect her.”

Seokjin couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. Nana had not once collected Arin herself. “She finishes at 3.”

Nana hesitated, “Do you think they’d let her finish early?”

“I don’t know… It’s usually only emergencies –”

“Never mind,” she stopped him. “There was just a bunch of things I’d planned, thought we could get a head start, it’s fine.”

He glanced over at Arin who was watching him hopefully. It was obvious what their phone call had entailed. They’d been making plans for the weekend and Arin was visibly excited. He smiled at her.

“I could always phone the school tomorrow,” he suggested to Nana. “See if it’s possible. Maybe she could skip the whole day?”

Nana sounded ecstatic. Something he hadn’t heard in years. “Really? Do you think there’s a chance they’d say yes?”

He shrugged to himself. “It’s just one day, I don’t see why not.”

Nana was busy thinking. “Maybe I could take tomorrow afternoon away from the office too… Pick her up at 3.”

It was his turn to hesitate now, opening his mouth ready to suggest something. He knew he owed his ex-wife an apology, but over the phone just wouldn’t do. He needed to see her. He went for it. “Or I could do it for you? I can drive her to you.”

“You would do that?” She sounded shocked.

“If she’s allowed to miss a day then yes.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t often Nana was left speechless. “Okay,” she agreed after a moment. “That would be great actually.”

His attention went back to Arin then, who was practically vibrating with excitement next to him. His replies hadn’t given away much, but it was enough to tell her she’d be seeing her mother this weekend – and possibly skipping a day of school. He grinned at her and she clung to his arm.

“Can I say bye to mom?”

“In a minute, Arin,” he chuckled, amused by her eagerness. “We’re not done yet.” His next sentence was directed at Nana. “I’ll text you tomorrow morning and let you know what the principal said.”

For the first time in god knows how long there was no malice or sarcasm attached to her gratitude. “Thank you, Seokjin.”

He took it as a positive sign. Things were changing. They would change.

The next day he dropped Arin off at school himself. The plan had been to head to reception and ask if he could talk with Principal Jung in person, but after saying his goodbyes and watching Arin meet up with some friends in the playground he began to get second thoughts. What if he accidentally bumped into you? He was on pins even in the parking lot. He wanted to give you all the space necessary and the last thing you probably wanted to see was him walking towards you in the corridor. At work.

No, instead he drove to his office, phoning the principal as soon as he’d finished up his morning meeting. Hoseok – as he’d been told to call him – was completely understanding. Seokjin didn’t even have to whip out the sob story about Arin missing her mom dearly. Dirty tactics were always the last resort, and he could talk a good game, but thankfully his skill wasn’t needed today. Arin was all set to go this evening.

The drive wasn’t a long one thankfully, just under an hour as Nana lived in the neighbouring city. This wasn’t the first time he’d been to Nana’s penthouse, the place she’d bought after they’d sold their family home, but the last time had been pretty explosive. Not nearly as bad as last weekend, but close. Arin had thankfully been waiting in the car for him that time, as he and her mother argued over where she should live permanently.

Seokjin stood beside Arin in the elevator, feeling nervous for the conversation he wanted to have. He was never above apologising when he was in the wrong, but with his ex-wife saying sorry had never come easily. It was childish and he knew he needed to change, so today was the perfect test. If he wanted a clean slate he had to be as honest as possible.

“Mommyyy,” Arin squealed as she opened the door to greet them, barrelling into her practically.

Seokjin stood back as they hugged, a soft smile on his face.

“Arin, I missed you,” Nana informed her, breaking away to take her bag. As she did so, she glanced at Seokjin, then back at their daughter. “Listen, darling, go to your room for a little while so I can speak to daddy.”

Seokjin felt a little relieved. At least they were on the same page – potentially.

Arin though, was unsure, looking between her parents as she spoke. “I don’t want to. What if you argue again?”

He felt his heart break at her words. “We won’t, sweetie,” he reassured, bending down to look her in the eyes. “I promise.”

She still looked dubious, but then Nana took over, her voice light and breezy. “We won’t be long, okay? Think about what pizza you want to order for dinner.”

Arin’s eyes lit up at that request and Seokjin couldn’t help but chuckle. That pizza obsession of hers was getting dangerous. “Okay,” she agreed easily, waving to him before she skipped off to the furthest part of the apartment.

Seokjin watched her leave before rising up again, tugging down the ends of his jacket. Nana was looking at him, an unreadable expression on her face, but he knew it wasn’t anger she was feeling, so that was a plus. He thought back to Sunday, how mad they had both been, how upset Nana had looked as she’d rushed off. The guilt came back.

He exhaled. He might as well just bite the bullet. “I’m sorry for calling you a terrible mother. I didn’t mean it.”

Nana stayed silent but her arms wrapped around herself. It was such a vulnerable action, it took him by surprise.

He continued. “I was just frustrated. I let things build up and exploded.”

She stared him straight in the eyes, shoulders sagging a little but her voice was strong. “You know I love our daughter half to death.”

“I do,” he agreed. “I don’t doubt that.”

She look relieved. It made him feel oddly sad. He had never wanted to make her doubt herself as a mother. He was a piece of shit.

Still, she needed to understand some things. His point of view and where he was coming from. His frustrations weren’t all for nothing. They were valid. “But you have to understand I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces when you end up cancelling on her. It takes its toll.”

Nana’s gaze flickered to the floor as she whispered. “I’m trying to be better.” Then she looked up again, her voice stronger. “I’m trying to free my weekends up. I’m trying not to do as much. I thought maybe I could even have her for an evening every weekday? I could pick her up from school, take her out for dinner. I know it’s a distance but maybe I could get every Wednesday afternoon away from work... Hopefully.”

Seokjin was impressed. Nana lived and breathed work so to hear she was thinking about possibly taking an afternoon away every week was… It made him very happy. “She’d love that,” he grinned genuinely. “She misses you a lot.”

Nana couldn’t help but smile too. “I miss her always.” With a slight chuckle she continued, “This apartment is so quiet without her.”

Seokjin looked down at his feet and grimaced slightly. He knew that feeling all too well. Living without Arin had been close to torture after the divorce. Everything felt so silent, the house gigantic and lonely. He hated the thought of Nana feeling the same way. “You can see her any time, Nana,” he murmured. “I’ll never try to stop you.”

Despite everything, their grievances toward one another, they had and would always co-parent well. Arin was their number one priority and she needed both parents in her life.

“I know that,” Nana nodded, “and I’d never try to take her from you.”

It didn’t bear to think about, but he had to admit, sometimes it was easy for irrational thoughts to creep in when someone was left feeling insecure.

“She loves living with you. She’s really settled at her new school, she never stops talking about her friends.” Nana continued, making small talk of sorts. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d done this. “She’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Seokjin nodded in agreement. She loved her new school, her new friends – her new life, you could say. That was easy to see.

Nana cleared her throat, dropping her arms to her sides. “I apologise too. I was out of line turning up at your door like that. I was just so mad... so hurt.” She took a few seconds. “I wish you’d just told me.”

“I should have.” She was absolutely right. “I see that now and I regret it. It was wrong of me to keep my new relationship from you. I wasn’t doing it to be vindictive. I just...” he stopped himself. Even though they weren’t excuses, they felt like they were. His reasons didn’t matter.

“You should have been the first to know because of Arin. If I was in your shoes, if it was the other way around, I would have been angry too.” He stopped and sighed at his stupidity. “I never meant to hurt you, neither did Y/N. She actually had no clue you didn’t know until that day.”

Nana’s eyes widened with shock, before she looked regretful. “Yeah, that one makes me feel even guiltier. I shouldn’t have spoken to her the way I did. It was a shock to hear Arin speaking about a stranger like that. A stranger I had no clue existed.”

Seokjin appreciated her apology, but he needed to make sure she understood something. “Yeah, about that, Arin really has never called Y/N her stepmom. We’ve only been together for a few months. I spoke to her about it and Arin understands that’s not the case. It was just kids being kids.”

Nana nodded. “I shouldn’t have flown off the handle, and I should have listened to your explanation the first time around.”

He held her gaze. “I’m not trying to replace you, Nana.”

If that’s what she was worried about, it wasn’t the case. He had never meant to compare the two women and he regretted it deeply.

Nana’s lips quirked up at the side, her voice relaxed and at ease. “But eventually Arin will call her that.”

His eyebrows shot up, understanding what she was getting at. “I don’t know,” he shook his head. His relationship with you was up in the air right now. He’d made one too many mistakes.

Nana brushed him off with sway of her hand. “I guess I’ll learn to deal with it when the time comes.”

He admitted defeat. “And I’ll have to do the same.”

It was inevitable really. One day Arin would probably have two blended families and while he really wanted his to be with you, he didn’t want to get his hopes up right now.

Nana snorted. “Fat chance of that happening. I don’t have time to fall in love again.”

He stayed silent, unsure what to say. He’d thought the same once upon a time. Until you walked straight into his life. (Or, more fittingly, until he’d reversed straight into yours.) Everyone deserved love in their life and he hoped that one day his ex-wife would find it again.

She was looking over at him sadly now, eyes softening, and it was almost jarring to see her show this much emotion in front of him. “I did love you, you know,” she murmured before laughing quietly at herself. “I felt like I never told you enough, but in the beginning it was good, right?”

“It was.” Seokjin hated getting nostalgic, in fact, he actively avoided it, but in this moment he let himself go. Ten years ago, he and Nana had fallen hard for one another. It was fast and exhilarating but – “We just…”

“Rushed into things that weren’t meant to be?” She finished for him.

He’d been so eager to marry before he was thirty, to follow in his parents’ footsteps. He wanted, no, needed, to become CEO. He needed to build something he could be proud of, and having a family fit into that logic. He’d had tunnel vision, but it wasn’t all bad.

“I can’t regret it though,” he told Nana softly, “because we made Arin.”

“At least we agree on one thing,” she chuckled.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

It was strange speaking like this with one another. He couldn’t even think of the last time something similar had happened. They were always too busy at one another’s throats, not listening to what the other had to say. Now all that fight had gone. They were both exhausted from years of bitterness. Years of fighting.

He didn’t want to fight anymore.

Nana seemed to think the same.

“I’m ashamed she had to hear us fight like that,” she said. “I apologised on the phone but…”

“She’s okay.” He reassured. “I think she still thinks it’s her fault a little though. I’ve tried telling her it wasn’t repeatedly.”

“I’ll talk to her over dinner.”

“Good idea.”

There was a pregnant pause before Nana chuckled. “This is the first time we’ve spoken so civilly in a long time.” She hesitated, wanting to say something else. He waited patiently, curious. “Maybe we should think about talking it out with a professional?”

He raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t a bad idea actually, but then… thing seemed to be working out well on their own right now. “Maybe we should see how things go first? Now that we know how one another feels.” They weren’t out of the dark yet, but it was looking hopeful. “But if you think it will help then I won’t refuse,” he added, wanting to show how seriously he was taking this.

She smiled slightly. “Okay, we’ll see how things go.”

It seemed like the conversation had run its course then, and Seokjin shuffled, about to suggest he head out now, but Nana spoke again. “Are you okay?” She asked. “No offence, but you look like shit.”

He laughed, actually laughed, at her words. He could always count on her to be honest with him. “I haven’t been sleeping very well,” he admitted, “but talking with you definitely helped.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “I hope I haven’t ruined things with you and Y/N. I can talk with her if you want?”

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his hand.

She looked down, feeling foolish. “I guess I did enough damage.”

He chuckled. “No, pretty sure I did that all on my own.”

Looking up, her mouth opened, as if she was about to ask him what he meant but stopped herself at the last second. She wasn’t there yet, and neither was he.

He took a step back. “I should go.”

Nana went to follow him to the door. “I’ll have her back by Sunday. Do you want to say goodbye?” She saw his nod and called for their daughter, her voice echoing off the walls. “Arin? Arin, darling, come here and say bye to your dad.”

A few seconds later he heard Arin’s footsteps getting closer, she hovered by the entryway, looking worried for a second, as if she was expecting the worst but then she saw her parents smiling faces and relaxed instantly.

“I’ll see you Sunday, okay?” Seokjin told her as she made her way towards him. He reached to pick her up, something she scolded him over sometimes because it was “embarrassing” now. She was getting older, he kept forgetting, because to him she would always be his little girl. This time however, she let him do so, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed his cheek.

“Okay, bye daddy. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he grinned, kissing her back before he put her down.

Nana watched on with a grin of her own.

Being home alone was odd. Seokjin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on his own. In the week Misook was here to help out with Arin and the housework, then every other weekend she often dropped in when he needed her. When the house wasn’t occupied by his daughter or Misook, you were here with him, so it had been quite a while since it was just him. It reminded him of the past, when he’d lived here all alone. He never wanted to go back to that.

He was happy to see Friday roll around. It felt like he’d been waiting all his life. Just one more day and he’d get to speak to you. The lack of communication was killing him. Ever since you’d began dating you’d spoken every day. It felt strange to be without that, like he was missing a part of himself. He’d been able to distract himself with work throughout the week, but no amount of distractions could really stop him from thinking about you. Stop him from missing you. Because he did. Terribly.

The photo on his desk didn’t help matters either – the two of you smiling together on the fishing trip he’d organised over the summer – but like hell was he hiding it away in a drawer.

It was probably best that Arin was with Nana this weekend. It gave you both some time to talk and sort things out – hopefully. He was praying so hard that everything would be okay, but he was getting ready to fight for you. Just in case. Of course he would listen to what you had to say, and respect it too, but if it happened to be bad news he would try his best to make you see how sorry he was and how hard he was trying to change. He couldn’t lose you. Not when he loved you so much.

You made him want to be a better man.

He got home pretty late from the office, staying just to avoid an empty house and after having a quick shower and ordering takeout, he decided on an early night. This week had been mentally and emotionally draining so it was probably for the best. Plus the sooner he slept the sooner tomorrow would come.

He’d just stepped out of the bathroom when he heard his phone ring in his sweatpants pocket. He pulled the device out automatically, expecting it to be Namjoon, because who else would be calling at this time? But to his surprise and utter amazement, he saw your name flashing across his screen.

His heart began to pound embarrassingly loud and he rushed to answer, sounding a little breathless as he murmured your name.

“Hey, you,” your replied, and he swore he could hear the smile in your voice. His shoulders instantly released the tension he hadn’t realised they’d been holding.

“I wasn’t expecting you to call tonight.” He heard himself say, cursing himself because it sounded so dumb. He was over the moon you’d decided to call. Of course he was.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Of course not,” he rushed. “Well,” he laughed, “I was just about to head to bed.”

You laughed along softly, the sound making his heart sing. “I was going to wait until tomorrow but Soojung is with Taehyung tonight and being alone means I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that slipped past his lips. It was so good to hear you say that. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week. Are you ready to talk? I’m willing to answer any questions you have.” He meant every word.

“I’m ready,” you replied. “Should I come over? I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

“I can come to you?” He suggested instead, not wanting you to go out of your way for him. “Arin’s with Nana until Sunday.”

“Oh. Okay. Now?”

“It’s not too late?”

“No, it’s fine.” You sounded a little eager and that just made even more relieved. He’d been expecting the worst all along. “I really want to see you.”

He smiled, happiness overwhelming him. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Really soon.” As he spoke he made his way into the closet, opening up his drawers to find a clean t-shirt.

“Don’t speed,” you told him jokingly.

“Of course I won’t,” he laughed. “I’m going to hang up now but I won’t be long.”

“Okay, see you soon, Seokjin.”

He couldn’t stop the grin on his face as he said his final goodbye, his heart racing with excitement as he tore off his old shirt to put the new one on. It was a little creased, but it would do. He didn’t have time to find anything else.

He needed to see you.

He needed to be with you.

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #mls:drabbles #floralseokjin:writings

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agentcable · 3 years

Text

Forgiveness

Title: Forgiveness TV: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit Pairing: Rafael Barba x OFC Prompt: “Do you forgive me?” Word Count: 2,167

Part 1 -- Part 3

Rafael just entered his shared apartment with Lauren. "Lauren? Are you home?" Rafael called out and put his bag down in his office. Before he went home he bought a dozen red roses to apologize for his behavior earlier in the day. The ADA listen closely but it was silent in the apartment. Too silent for his liking. "Lauren?"

Rafael walked into the living room and switched on the lights. The bouquet of roses was still in his hands. There was no sign of Lauren being home or at least she was home for a short time and then left. Maybe the latter is true because the apartment smelled after fresh baked cookies. He looked around the room and saw something standing on the dining table. The counselor walked over to take a closer look at it. He put the bouquet down on the table next to the romper on the table. Rafael carefully took it in his hand. He couldn't believe what he had in his hands.

"Future Havard Freshman" was written on the front of the grey romper. Rafael stared at the baby clothes for a long time. Suddenly he realized why she yelled at him that she can't have Carisis' kid. She already was having his. The man sighed and ran his right hand over his face. He had to find out where she was. It was clear to him that she wasn't here and now that he knew the truth... He had to make up for his mistake.

***

Meanwhile, Lauren was knocking on Olivia's apartment door. Shortly after her knock the door opened and Olivia let her in. "Thank you for letting me stay for tonight." Lauren put down her overnight bag and took off her shoes and jacket.

"Not for that. I'm happy to help out and Noah asked me when you're coming over again." She looked at her. "You and Rafael will work this out. After you left, he realized that he messed up bad."

Lauren got something out of her bag. "I hope you don't mind but I brought some cookies for Noah and you as a thank you. I made them myself before I left the apartment to come here." Just as Lauren finished the women heard feet running down the hallway.

The women chuckled. "Auntie Lauren!" the young boy yelled and hugged her leg. Lauren hugged him back. "I have brought some cookies with me." She gave him his small package and Noah had a huge smile on his face. "These are for me? All of them?"

Lauren nodded and gave Olivia her cookies. "These are yours. But you have to promise me something." Noah nodded eagerly. "Don't eat a cookie before a meal. First the meal and then cookies. And you have to ask your mom before you take one out of this box."

Noah laughed. "I can do that. Can I have a cookie, mom, pretty please?" The women smiled and Olivia nodded. "Fine. One cookie. Then go brush your teeth and change into your pajamas."

With that Noah took one cookie out of his box and put the rest of them on the kitchen island. Then he ran off into his room. "That should keep him busy for the next 30 minutes." Lauren and Olivia sat down on the couch. "How are you?"

Lauren sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. I feel disappointed by Rafael's accusation. I don't know how often I have to tell him that he's going to be the only man in my life. In a romantic way." They both smiled. "But sometimes he's insecure and instead of talking to me about it, he hides it until it boils over. I'm afraid that one day it's getting so far that we're not going to work it out and break apart. And I don't want that. Not when a child is going to be involved."

The women went silent. The silence was interrupted by Lauren's phone buzzing in her jeans back pocket. She got it out and looked at it. The screen showed that Rafael was calling. Lauren declined the call and put her phone on the coffee table in front of the couch. "I assume it's Barba, right?"

Lauren nodded. "I'm not going to answer his calls. I don't care how often he tries to reach me. He can stew a little." Just when she finished, her phone buzzed again. She declined again. "You know that he'll call until you answer him", Olivia stated.

"We both know he will. But I said it earlier: He can stew a little. I'll call him back later or tomorrow morning." Noah came back into the living room.

"Mom, I'm ready. Can I play with Auntie Lauren?" The boy held a card game in his hand. "Please?" Olivia looked to Lauren. Lauren smiled and took the game out of Noah's hand. "Of course, buddy. But you have to explain to me, how it works." Noah nodded enthusiastically. He sat down on the floor in front of the table and got ready to explain the game to Lauren. Meanwhile, Lauren put her phone in airplane mode. She didn't want to think about Rafael and the incoming calls and texts didn't help her.

***

When Olivia was sure that Noah and Lauren were engrossed in their game, she left the living room and went into her bedroom. After Lauren put her phone into airplane mode, Rafael was trying to reach her. The lieutenant had pity with the ADA. She wanted him to at least know that Lauren was with her and that she was fine for the time being.

Olivia closed her door and sat down on the bed. For a short moment, she was asking herself if she did the right thing. But before she could decide against her idea, she called Rafael back.

Rafael answered the phone after the second ring. "Olivia. Please tell me you heard anything from Lauren."

"I wish you a good evening, too, Rafael." Olivia looked at the mirror in front of her. "Lauren's with me and Noah." She braced herself for what's to come.

"I'm coming over. I need to talk to her." Rafael answered and Olivia could hear rustling in the background. "I'm an idiot and she needs to know. I don't want her to go to bed angry."

"Barba, I don't think..." But the lieutenant didn't even have the chance to express her concerns. The ADA had hung up on her. She sighed and just hoped for the best. The last thing she and Noah needed for tonight was a loud argument and one of the neighbors calling the police.

Olivia sighed and walked back into the living room. Noah yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Seems like somebody is tired and should head to bed", Olivia chuckled and tousled her son's hair. Lauren packed up the game they just finished.

"But I'm not tired", Noah protested and yawned again. "You sure are. Come on, I can read you a book if you want." Olivia took Noah's hand and went to his bedroom. "I'll be right back, Lauren. If you want, you can search for a movie we can watch." With that, she stepped into Noah's room to tuck her son in bed.

***

30 Minutes later, Olivia came back from her room. After she put Noah to bed, she changed into more comfortable clothes. "He's asleep." She sat down next to Lauren who also had changed into comfier clothes. "Found a movie we can watch?"

Lauren nodded. "If you don't mind I like to watch "Hunger Games". I started to watch it several times but never finished it."

"I'm fine with it. Start the movie. I'll just go and get us ice cream and something to drink. Chocolate and water." Olivia stood back up to get the ice cream from the fridge and water and two glasses. She brought everything over and sat it down on the table. "No wine?" Lauren asked her.

"No. We both drink water tonight. Drinking alone isn't fun." Olivia just opened the water bottle when there was a knock on her apartment door.

"You invited someone over?" Lauren asked her curiously. The lieutenant shook her head. "No. But I'll go and see who's interrupting our night." She gave Lauren the water bottle to pour into the glass. She tried to not let her see that she knew who's on the other side of the door.

Olivia checked a final time if Lauren was occupied. When she saw her reading a magazine she had at the table. The woman took a peek through the peephole. Sighing the lieutenant opened the door. "Barba, I told you not to come. I just called to tell you that she's safe with me and not in any danger."

"I know, Olivia. But I have to talk to her. I have to set it right. I don't want her to go to sleep after that fight." The counselor glanced at her pleadingly. "Please."

"What is going on, Olivia?" Lauren walked over to the door and stopped when she saw who's standing there. "Rafael... What are you doing here? How do you know where I am?" The three people stared at each other not knowing what to say to explain it.

"It doesn't matter but I want to talk to you, please." Barba took a step towards her, his right arm reaching for Lauren. The woman took a step away from him and the counselor stopped from going any further. "Lauren?" He was unsure what her reaction meant.

"You hurt me with your behavior today, Rafael. I know that you are insecure about yourself but I told you every time that you're the one I want to stay with. To be with until the end of time. There is no other man, no Sonny." Lauren had tears in her eyes. "But accusing me of cheating. That was low and stung. I never thought that you would say something like that. I would never do that. Not after seeing the aftermath, my mother went through."

The room went silent once again. Olivia still stood at the door. She didn't want to leave them alone. She knew that neither would do any physical abuse but she feared they would argue again. The lieutenant waited with bated breath for Rafael's answer.

Finally, Barba sighed and looked towards the floor. "I'm sorry, Lauren. I know what I said was wrong right after you slapped me. And after I found what you left behind in our apartment I was even more frustrated with myself." After that, he gazed back at Lauren. He carefully stepped towards her and grabbed her hands in his. "I'm really going to be a father?"

The tears Lauren tried to hold in were now flowing down her face. Rafael carefully brushed them away. Olivia closed her apartment door. Lauren smiled and nodded. "You're going to be a papi. And I know that you will be nothing like your father was when you're afraid of that."

They both hugged. Olivia smiled watching them. They let go. "You coming with me, cariño?" Rafael's voice showed hope. He didn't want to stay alone in their apartment. It felt cold and lonely with her by his side. But Lauren shook her head. "No, I'm staying here for tonight. I promised Noah to bring him to school with Olivia. Maybe we could do lunch together. Talk about us, what happened yesterday", Lauren suggested.

Rafael sighed. "Alright. But you should know that I am not happy to stay in the apartment alone."

Lauren chuckled. "I know. It's just one night, Rafi. You'll survive it." Rafael walked to the door and looked at Olivia. "Thank you for not kicking me out even though I didn't listen to you."

The lieutenant smiled and hugged him. "It's fine. If you had started arguing at the latest, I would have kicked you out." She opened the door. "Now, go and enjoy your night. I'm sure you have something to do, right?"

"Fine, fine. I understand what you're saying. I leave", Rafael laughed and left the apartment. Olivia closed the door behind him once again. She looked at Lauren. "So... Do you still want that ice cream?"

"Of course. Let's go eat that ice cream." The women walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch. Lauren gave Olivia her glass of water and a spoon. Then she put down the tub of ice cream between them. They both just wanted to enjoy the rest of their night before the next day come.

#law and order svu imagine #law and order svu fic #rafael barba #law and order svu #rafael barba x oc #svu imagines #rafael barba imagine

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thecoffeenebula · 4 years

Text

First Period

This is not part of the new job stories. Just a Marcus Moreno one-shot here :)

a/n: Missy gets her first period and Marcus had no idea what he has to do so he calls you (his girlfriend) to help him through it.

No warnings here :)

As soon as you got Marcus’s phone call you rushed over to his place. He was very vague to you on the phone. He told you that he just picked up Missy from school because she wasn’t feeling well. You had no idea what was going on but he said he needed you there. Missy needed you there…

You dropped anything at that point and drove your way up to his house.

You had to make sure she was fine. You were the only adult that Missy opened up to ever since she hit puberty. She’s been very private. You were the only adult that she told the most to about her life, more than she did with her own dad.

You and Marcus started dating a couple of years back. You approached Missy as if she were your friend. You didn’t want Missy to see you as her new mom, it just didn’t feel right.

She took a liking to you instantly. You were her friend. You supported her when Marcus didn’t or when others didn’t. She needed that. You did give off parent vibes, in a positive way.

Missy one time joked about it once, when you picked her up from her training. Marcus was working late and he asked you to do it. You made sure she had eaten and done her homework before Marcus got home. Homework didn’t seem so bad when you helped her out. That’s when Missy told you that she thought you would made a good mom. That if you and Marcus ever decided to get a kid, she wouldn’t mind and be a proud sister. It warmed your heart to hear her be so supportive of your lives together. It was so sweet. She brought it in the funniest way possible, like Missy could.

“I think we figured out your superpower. Your superpower is making boring activities fun.”

She looked at you smiling It made you chuckle.

“That’s why I think you would make a good mom.”

You almost choked on your drink. You pointed at yourself in surprise.

“Yeah, I think you would. If you and my dad ever think about having a baby I wouldn’t mind. I would like that”

You had no idea what you were supposed to say. You were so stunned.

“That’s a nice thing to say, Missy.” Just that moment Marcus entered the house and the conversation stopped. It was just you and Missy smiling welcoming her father and your boyfriend home.

You knocked on the door. Marcus rushed over to let you in.

“Hey, is everything alright? What’s going on?”

Marcus looked quite uncomfortable and concerned. He scratched the back of his head and closed the door behind you as entered.

“Well…..”

You entered the kitchen and saw what was lying on the kitchen table. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Soooo, Missy got her first period.”

The kitchen table was filled with tampons, pads of different brands and in different volumes with a couple of other products. Including a hot water bottle and lots of chocolate, which even you couldn’t resist. You made your way over to the chocolate bars and tried to unnoticeably stick one of them in your pocket.

“Yeah, I went over to the drug store when she was in the shower. I had no idea what I had to buy so I just bought anything I could see”

You really couldn’t stop laughing. This was the most adorable thing you had ever seen. He really was just trying his best. He only didn’t know how to handle this.

“oh sweetie, maybe you should’ve let me do the shopping if you were a little more clear to me about what was going on. I thought there was something seriously wrong with her. I thought she was injured or something else bad that had happened to her.”

Marcus chuckled. Feeling guilty for not telling you.

“Yeah, I am sorry about that… I’m just not used to this. I know how to save the world not how to handle a period.”

“Let me handle this.” You said and kissed his cheek.

“Just, ehhh…. We will only need a couple of these…. She is not bleeding to death.”

You picked a box of pads and walked over to the bathroom. Marcus chuckled, blushing a bit as he stared at the table. He should’ve called you straight away instead of panic and do this by himself. This whole thing started to look quite humorous to him.

“Missy?” you knocked on the door. “Missy, it’s me”

“arrghhhh” you hear Missy grunt. “Go away, Y/N…. It’s not that I don’t want to see you… I just don’t want to see you right now”

“I can help you… better than your dad can.”

You hoped that she would let you help her through this. You can remember your first period. It was a horrible story. You had to walk around in a blood stained white stained skirt the entire day because you were on a school trip. You were happy that Missy didn’t have that experience. You just wanted to help as no one helped you through it. They just covered your skirt with wrapping a hoodie around your waist.

“He called you didn’t he?”

“Only because he wants to help you”

Marcus was pacing the in the hallway. He was so worried. It was so funny to watch.

“Missy? Are you in pain? Do you have cramps?”

You heard a loud groan.

“Yes…. This is worse than that one time Guppy punched me in the stomach”

Guppy really wasn’t to be messed with, everyone knew that by now.

You turned to Marcus who was watching you.

“Could you fill up the hot water bottle please?”

He nodded and went to the kitchen straight away.

“Missy, I know you don’t want to get out of the bathroom but hear me out, I brought some pads with me and I think you don’t want to ruin your underwear. Happened to me. It wasn’t fun. I even ruined the skirt I was wearing.”

You heard the door unlock, it slightly opened, just far enough to grab a hold of the pads. A small hand stuck out of the door opening and took the pads from you, immediately closing the door again.

“Now what?”

“Well… Your dad is making a hot water bottle ready for you. it’s best to just lie down on a bed. It’s what I always used to do.”

Missy came out of the bathroom with a pained face.

Marcus came rushing over with the bottle. You took it from him and walked her to her room. You signaled him away. Missy didn’t need two adults breathing down her neck with something like this going on.

“Lie down and just relax. Watch some tv or read a book, do whatever you want to take your mind of it.” You threw her one of the chocolate bars you grabbed one on your way to the bathroom. You actually wanted to eat it yourself but there was more where that came from so there was still enough when you went back to the kitchen. You’ve been there long enough to know where Marcus keeps all the sweets. You’ve roamed his cupboards loads of times when you had a movie night with the three of you.

Missy turned to you.

“Wait, you’re not going to stay?”

You raised your eyebrow.

“You really want me to hang around? A full grown woman, who will just bother you with unnecessary facts about periods?”

Missy scrunched her nose and shook her head.

You smiled at her

“Just give a shout when you need me, or your dad.”

“No, I don’t want you to tell me any unnecessary stuff I just want you to stay.”

You seated yourself next to her.

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

She looked up at you.

“What was your first period like?”

You told her your own experience and talked to her some more, answering all her questions.

It took a while before you could return to Marcus.

At some point he stood by the door listening to the two of you talk. It brought him joy to hear you two giggle with each other.

Marcus was sitting on the couch watching tv as you walked into the living room. He muted the television as he noticed you.

“How is she?”

You seated yourself next to him.

“She is doing fine.”

“Thank you,”

He leaned over to kiss you.

“I seriously can’t live without you… oh god! This would’ve been hell if you weren’t here”

You smiled at his comment. You’ve never seen him this insecure about something.

“That’s all in your head. You can do this. Sometimes you need helping hand but you can do this.”

Marcus stared at you. His look couldn’t scream I love you more….

“What is it?” you chuckled.

He bit his lip as he studied you.

“Move in with me?”

You were stunned. You never guessed he would’ve asked this.

“I mean, this is going to happen monthly now. I don’t want to go through that alone. I want you to live through that torture as well…. And… I love you. Missy loves you. I think we are ready for the next step in our relationship don’t you?”

There is nothing you wanted more. The moment you met him you knew that this is the life you wanted with him.

“I think we are. I would love to move in”

Marcus started smiling even brighter than he already did. He kissed you again.

Missy came walking back out to get her phone, which was still on the coffee table in the livingroom.

She noticed the two of you kissing and rolled her eyes making gagging noises.

“Could you not?”

She picked her phone from the coffee table and walked back to her room.

“I suppose we would have to get used to that.”

“I think we do.”

You and Marcus couldn’t be happier about the decision you made together.

You decided to tell Missy over dinner. She was overjoyed with the news.

They both couldn’t wait for you to move in.

Missy was already planning out what it would be like to have you there.

You were a happy little family.

Maybe a family that could expand in the future. You thought as you heard Missy go on about everything. If only Marcus was up for it.

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #missy moreno #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus moreno fanfiction #fanfiction #not my gif

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redgillan · 4 years

Text

Under Pastel Skies - 4

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,128

Warnings: none

A/N: This chapter is quite long, Bucky opens up a little and they discuss the possibilities of starting a sugar daddy relationship. Thank you for reading, I hope you’ll like this chapter :’) As always if you’re a wannabe sugar daddy, don’t interact with this post.

Bucky looked around the coffee shop, his knee bouncing up and down in an erratic rhythm. He looked over his shoulder at the restroom door and bit his lip in thought. You’d been in there for a couple of minutes and he was starting to worry you were going to leave through the back door.

Your jacket was still resting on the back of your chair. Surely you wouldn’t leave without it. Then again, it was freezing cold and you were only wearing a really light coat.

He took a sip of his hot chocolate and grimaced behind his mug. It was cold. Then, just as he was setting his mug back down on the table, you rounded the table and took your seat.

Tilting his head, he studied your face in the artificial light. Your eyes were glazed and you were avoiding looking at him. You picked up your mug of hot chocolate and set it down away from you.

Bucky’s eyes were drawn to your hands as you clasped them in front of you. The back of your hand had traces of red lipstick. With slightly furrowed brows, he raised his eyes to your face. Your lips were slightly puffy and completely bare.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes, I was just thinking.” Your top teeth pulled at your bottom lip, worrying it. “The night we met, you told me you weren’t looking for a sugar baby. What made you change your mind?”

Bucky ran his hand over the two-day stubble on his chin and jaw, and sighed. “It’s... I don’t know. When Sam told me I was going to meet you, I panicked. I googled the words ‘sugar daddy’ and I didn’t like what I found.” He paused and looked around him. The café was mostly empty. “If I’m doing this, I want to do it with someone I can trust, someone who isn’t going to smile at me and check her watch every five minutes.”

“I don’t have a watch,” you replied with a smug smile. He laughed. “What makes you think you can trust me? We don’t even know each other.”

He shrugged. “I know you’re kind, passionate, talented, caring, and I have a feeling you don’t care about money.” He took something from his pocket and laid it on the table. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have slipped this into my pocket this morning.”

You glanced at the $300 on the table and sat back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. It was a classic defensive posture, and he realized just how careful and nervous you were. He looked down at his lap, cursing himself for making you feel uncomfortable. This wasn’t off to a good start.

“Okay but I only know three things about you,” you said, enumerating them on the tips of your fingers. “Your name is Bucky, you really like breakfast and you’re an over-tipper. And I’m pretty sure Bucky is just a nickname so, really, I only know two things about you.”

He sat forward in his seat with his elbow resting on the table and his fist supporting his head. A slow smile spread across his face. He tried to hide it behind his fist but he could feel it reach his eyes.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, angel.” He watched you with a soft smile but your face remained expressionless. “Fine.” He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “My name is James Barnes. My middle name’s Buchanan... hence Bucky. I don’t know why my parents thought it was a good idea to name me after one of our presidents but they did.”

You huffed out a laugh, and you both chuckled quietly.

“No one remembers President Buchanan anyway,” he continued, straightening his spine. “I’m 36, 37 in March. I’ve never been married, and I don’t have any children. I do have a sister, though. Her name’s Rebecca, and she’s a single mom with two kids. They all live in Indiana where I was born.”

“Mhhh, persimmon pudding,” you hummed, closing your eyes.

“It worries me that this is what you associate with Indiana,” he teased, smiling wide. “Besides nothing can beat sugar cream pies.”

“There’s no accounting for taste,” you replied with a smug grin. “Even bad taste.”

Bucky felt his heart leap in his chest. It was as if his heart wanted to jump into your hands but couldn’t because his goddamn ribcage was in the way. He pressed his lips together and waited until the feeling passed.

It must have taken too long because the next thing he knew, your fingertips were gently grazing his fingers in an attempt to pull him out of his thoughts. He flinched. His first instinct was to pull his hand away from yours, but he resisted.

Your fingers were freezing cold while his own were burning hot. It didn’t bother him. He hooked his fingers over yours and let his heat seep into you. It felt so good to be touched, to touch someone.

He couldn’t take his eyes away from your hand, he could hardly breathe and it took all his willpower to force himself away from the edge of desire. He didn’t mean it in a romantic way. His heart and soul longed for someone to hold him, to feel the heat and heartbeat of another human being.

He looked up at you, longing and ache clouding his features. It was too raw, you had to look away. He felt like you understood just how badly he craved physical contact. Maybe you craved it, too.

“So, um,” you cleared your throat, “you were born in Indiana?”

He took a sip of his cold chocolate before answering. “Yes, but we moved to Brooklyn when I was five. I still live in Brooklyn actually.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You come all the way from Brooklyn every Friday just to have breakfast at a shitty hotel in Chelsea? You must really like our breakfast.”

His cheeks turned pink but his smile was teasing. “Best coffee in Manhattan. Can’t turn it down.”

“If you say so.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “So, Mister James Barnes, do you have a job or were you born wealthy?”

He looked you in the eye while he propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “I’m a writer.” Your eyebrows rose, eyes twinkling with interest. “I started when I lost my arm.”

He sighed and started moving his bad shoulder in a circle as if just saying it out loud brought back an unexpected pain.

“It was ten years ago, I lost it while climbing Mount Everest with my best friend. I won’t bore you with all the details but while I was recovering the doctors tried to teach me how to do simple things like buttoning my shirt or tying my shoelaces. All these things we take for granted, y’know?” You nodded. “I was angry and depressed, and it was just so frustrating to keep trying to make my left arm move even though it was gone. They suggested I wear slip on shoes or use Velcro fasteners. It made me feel like a goddamn five year old.”

He took a small pause, watching you process his speech. There was no pity in your eyes, only curiosity and attentiveness. He had told this story many times before, he was almost reciting it by heart.

“Back then there weren’t a lot of people who shared tips on how to do these things. Now with YouTube, it’s a little easier for new amputees. So every time I figured something out, I wrote it down in a little notebook. It really helped me, and I realized it could help others as well. Long story short, I found an editor and it became a best seller. I got my fifteen minutes of fame.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Some of it.” Bucky shrugged. “With the money I bought an apartment in Brooklyn and moved out of Sam’s guest room. It felt good to be independent again.”

“Ah!” you exclaimed sourly and he tilted his head in question. “I don’t know if you remember but I told you I was living with Natasha. Well, actually I sleep on her sofa.”

He saw the mournful look in your eyes and it instantly reminded him of himself- incomplete, socially inept, a burden. No one should ever feel that way. Ever.

“It’s been over a year now. She won’t kick me out but...,” you sighed. “I know that having me around all the time is difficult. I’m invading her privacy.”

“I stayed with Sam for four years,” Bucky said with a smile. “You move at your own pace. There’s nothing wrong with that. You want to let her live her own life, but don’t forget that you’re entitled to your own life and privacy, too. It’s okay to put yourself first.”

“Easier said than done.” You gave him a sad smile. “Is it okay if we continue this another time? I’m getting tired.”

“Of course but, angel, I can’t let you leave when you look so sad,” he said, reaching for your hand. “What can I do?”

You watched his thumb stroking lightly over the back of your hand. “Does your offer still stand?”

He recoiled in surprise, his eyes wide with incredulity. “You mean the, uh, mentorship?”

“Yeah, whatever you want to call it.”

“Y-yes, yes, my offer still stands.”

You raised your head and forced yourself to look him in the eye. A chill ran down his spine at the intensity in your eyes. “I’m in.”

You agreed to meet him for dinner the following night at his apartment. You were cautious by nature and never one to follow a man you barely knew home, so you asked if one of your friends could come with you. He suggested asking Sam and Natasha to join you.

It made you feel more at ease. Natasha was like a sister to you, and she had already been through the whole arrangement thing with Sam. Not that you or Bucky wanted to talk about it with them – not now at least- but it was nice to know they’d be there.

The next day, Bucky made his way to the store with a list of ingredients on his phone. He was reading it over when he remembered to send you a text asking if you had any allergies. He was almost done shopping when you replied. He looked at the bag of frozen broccoli in the freezer and decided to send you another message.

What are your thoughts on broccoli?

Love them *green heart emoji*

Great! Broccoli ice cream for dessert then. He chuckled to himself when you replied with a broken heart emoji. Jking see you tonight.

Bucky spent the rest of the day cooking, cleaning and getting ready for the night. Cooking and cleaning were easy enough tasks, especially considering that his apartment was already spotless.

Getting ready was proving more difficult than he had expected. It took him an hour to pick out the right outfit, finally settling on a light blue shirt and a pair of beige slacks. His hair was being – for lack of a better word- a dick. He had half a mind to shave the whole thing off.

He was glaring at his hair in the mirror when the buzzer rang. He checked his watch, it was just past five thirty.

“Who’s it?” he asked, pressing the button on the intercom.

“Hi, hey, it’s me. I’m a little early, sorry.”

His stomach did a little flip. “Take the elevator to the third floor.”

Bucky fussed with his hair one last time and checked his teeth in the mirror. He wondered if he had bad breath. He breathed into his hand and smelled it -peppermint toothpaste. Not bad.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and he made sure his shirt was tucked in his slacks before he opened the door. You stepped out of the elevator and looked around. When you saw him, your face lit up with a smile so gentle and genuine that it stirred something inside him. He pushed the feeling down.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing you inside. “Would you mind taking your shoes off?”

“Sure.” You bent down to take off your shoes but your hands were full. “Oh, I got you this,” you said, thrusting a bouquet of wildflowers and a bottle of wine at him. He smiled playfully and your eyes landed on his missing left arm. You grimaced and looked down at your feet, feeling like an asshole.

“Thanks, angel,” he said, taking the flowers. “I can’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers.”

You let out a relieved laugh and set the bottle on the floor while you removed your shoes. “I didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

You followed him to the kitchen and glanced around the room. The kitchen had an industrial feel with a huge stainless steel sink and a countertop island in the centre that could act as a breakfast bar or just some additional counter space. There was a casserole dish on the island and a basket of garlic bread.

The dinner table was a little off to the side and had already been set for four with beautiful wooden placemats, gold-rimmed dinnerware and two silver candlesticks.

“It’s really nice,” you said, leaving the bottle of wine on the island.

“I can give you a quick tour if you’d like.”

“Yes, I guess it’d be helpful, especially if I need to use the restroom later.”

Bucky chuckled under his breath as he arranged the flowers in a vase. He gestured at the closed door next to the enormous stainless steel fridge. “The guest bathroom is right here.”

“Good to know.”

There were two bedrooms behind the dining room area. The first one had a bunk bed and posters on the walls. You didn’t enter the room, only looked from the threshold. Bucky told you that it was where his sister’s kids slept when they came to visit.

The second bedroom was a little larger. Against the wall, just below the window, was a bed. It was bigger than a single but not quite the size of a double. You entered the room and sat on the bed. It was topped with a fluffy white duvet and throw pillows in different shades of grey and white.

Bucky leaned against the door frame, watching you look around the room. You took in the duck-egg blue velvet armchair with the scalloped edges. It was without a doubt the most comfortable chair in his apartment.

There was also a dresser with a huge mirror, a wardrobe and a small desk.

“It’s where your sister stays, right?”

He nodded and pushed himself off the door frame and into the bedroom. “Occasionally.” He took a seat next to you on the bed. “They used to visit me a lot, now it’s just a guest room.”

“Well, this room is beautiful and the view,” you paused and looked out the window, “is just wow. I can see the One World Trade Center. It’s amazing.”

The kitchen-slash-dining room opened to a step-down living room with a high ceiling. You stared at the ceiling with wide eyes, unaware that Bucky was chuckling to himself behind you.

“Even gymnasiums aren’t this huge,” you said, pointing up to the eighteen foot high ceiling. “And the windows! My God, they’re almost reaching up to the ceiling.” You turned to him. “How do you clean those? Do you have a special ladder or something?”

He shook his head at your antics and crossed the room to sit on the sofa. Meanwhile, you continued exploring, marvelling at the view –“Oh my God! Is that the Chrysler building?”- and touching pretty much everything. The curtains were soft and light, the exposed brick wall felt grainy and rough, and the massive wooden desk was hard and coarse under your palm.

“I like your living room,” you said, running your hand along the back of the sofa. “It’s not cold or pretentious, I really like it.”

“Thank you,” he replied with an amused frown. “To be honest, I hired someone to decorate the place.”

You laughed. “Yeah, no offense but I could tell.”

“None taken,” he laughed with you.

You sank into the sofa and let it swallow you whole. A gas burning fireplace sat next to the entertainment area. It heated the place nicely, leaving you toasty warm.

“It’s too bad the view is behind us,” you remarked, rolling your head to the side to look at him.

He smiled. “C’mon, I’ll show you what’s upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” you repeated in faux surprise. “Okay, Mr. Fancy.”

It took some effort to actually get up but you managed to follow Bucky to the second floor. There was a room upstairs that overlooked the living room. The room was bare except for a large desk against the wall and a bookshelf.

“The realtor sold me this room as a bedroom but the windows open on to the living room. You can actually see what’s going on inside this room when you’re downstairs. Not ideal. It’s probably the brightest room after the living room though.”

“You could turn it into an office.”

“I already have an office.”

You turned to him, smiling teasingly. “Of course you do.”

“You know,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I always thought this room would make a perfect artist’s studio. What do you think?”

You turned your head to him so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Are you serious?”

“I am,” he said with a nod.

While you processed his offer, Bucky showed you the master suite and his office. His office was the messiest room so far. There were papers everywhere, post-it notes stuck to the wall above his laptop and several notebooks scattered on the desk.

You continued down the hallway, stopping to look at framed pictures of Bucky’s family and friends. He paused in front of a floor to ceiling mirror that led to his closet. You were curious and asked if you could take a look.

It wasn’t a regular closet, it was a walk-in closet with a round sofa in the middle of the room. You stepped inside and fingered the shirts hanging in front of you.

“Saint Laurent, Prada, Dolce Gabbana,” you read out loud, then whistled. “You have quite a collection of Henley, Mr. Fancy.”

“Is that my official nickname?” he teased.

You shrugged. “I’m experimenting, Mr. Big Bucks.” His whole face scrunched up in comical disgust and you made a similar grimace. “Yeah, no, I heard it. I don’t like it.”

You took the back stairs back to the kitchen and sat at the kitchen island while Bucky opened the bottle of wine to let it breathe. He asked if you wanted something to drink and you politely declined.

“Thanks for the tour,” you said. “I’m sorry I showed up so early. I think I was a little nervous.”

“It’s fine.” He took a seat next to you. “I like spending time with you and I'm glad that we can spend some time together.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and smiled. “Yeah.”

You both fell in a contemplative silence, lost in your thoughts. Bucky watched you run your fingers along the edge of the table. He looked at his watch and realized Sam and Nat were probably on their way to his apartment now.

“So what do you think about my proposition?”

“To use your guest room as an art studio?” you asked, making sure you were talking about the same thing. “It’s very generous but I’m not sure it’s feasible. I mean, you live in Brooklyn and I live in Chelsea. My shift ends at four but I have to be up really early. I’m usually too tired to do anything.”

“Do you like your job?”

You shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s only temporary.”

“I can pay you to paint,” he said, turning sideways on his stool to face you. “Isn’t that what the Medici family did back then? I can be your patron.”

“Well, it sounds better than sugar daddy,” you sassed.

“Think about it,” he urged. “If I pay you, you won’t have to worry about the money. You can paint whatever you want, whenever you want. You can even live here.”

“Woah, wait a second,” you cut him off. “You want me to live with you?”

“I told you a lot about me yesterday, but there are things that are... difficult to admit out loud.” He heaved a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts and searched for the right words.

“I’m a little broken,” he said with a faint smile. “After I lost my arm, I started pushing people away. I was rude to everyone. I became very comfortable with being alone, actually I preferred it. I felt like a completely different person. I had to relearn how to do everything and it was exhausting. I feel better now but there are things that I don’t like. I don’t like when people stare at me, or call me brave. I don’t like when people assume I can’t do something or help me without asking. Makes me feel like a child.”

He didn’t look at you while he spoke. He couldn’t. But if he wanted to make this work, if he wanted to gain your trust, he had to be completely honest. Even if it pushed you away.

“I have a therapist,” he continued. “She helped me cope with my anxiety, my nightmares, my depression. But at the same time, I also developed an obsessive-compulsive disorder. I’m scared I’m going to relapse, that my progress is only temporary. Cleaning rituals, intrusive thoughts, magical thinking... those are a huge pain in my ass. I started to believe that if I don’t follow my morning routine I’m going to have a shitty day. It’s stupid bu-”

“It’s not stupid,” you told him, understanding shining in your eyes.

He smiled at you. “It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I broke my routine because I needed to see you and apologize. And I broke it again after that. I guess you could say that I created a new habit but that’s not important. It takes a lot of effort to break or create a habit so it’s still a win in my book. Do you know why I call you ‘angel’?”

“Because you can’t remember my name.”

He sighed your name with fond exasperation, and smiled when it made you laugh. “No, it’s because, and it’s going to sound corny, but I feel like you might be my guardian angel. You’re so patient and kind, you make things easy for me.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s super corny,” you teased, tapping the tip of his nose with your index finger.

He scrunched up his nose with a smile. “So you see, living with me isn’t going to be easy.” He looked around the kitchen with a frown. “This place is too quiet. It doesn’t have a soul. It’s like nobody lives here. I want it to be messy and loud but I don’t know how to do that.” He turned to you, his blue eyes pleading. “You may think I’m doing you a favor but you’d be doing me a favor. I need you more than you need me.”

You rested your elbows on the counter and buried your face in your hands. He knew you needed time to process all this information but at the same time, he mentally patted himself on the back for actually opening up to you. It was a big step for him, no matter the outcome.

“Bucky, what you’re offering me is incredible. It’s everything I’ve always wanted and more.”

“But.”

“But there are people who depend on me financially. My job at the hotel isn’t exciting or fulfilling but it’s a steady income. What will I do in three months when you get tired of me?”

His face fell. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry. Listen, I think it’ll be safer if we write a contract. We can discuss the terms and include a clause, maybe a 30 days’ notice. I won’t throw you out, I promise.”

“We should talk about this with Nat and Sam. They’ve been through this. I mean taxwise it’s gonna be a compete mess. Does this mean I’m self-employed?” you wondered out loud. “Ugh, never mind.”

Bucky laughed, his leg started to bounce with nervous excitement. He couldn’t believe this was really happening. He watched you nibble your bottom lip. You met his eyes and smiled.

“Okay, let’s do this!”

Part 5

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 4 years

Photo

U N P L A N N E D, part seventeen

You weren’t sure how to feel. You were confused and upset and angry. And at the end of the day, Harry storming out of the house only felt like it confirmed your fears: he would leave.

He did, right?

He left, even if he came back and shut himself in his office. He left, even if he popped out only when Jane cried, before you could wave him off and say you could handle whatever it was and didn’t need his help.

But the bottom line was that your emotions came out and that scared him away. You tried to hold it back and you tried to avoid the conversation because no matter how hard you tried, you didn’t see a world where the ending of that scene would look any different.

A few days later and things had settled down, he cooled off and you gave each other enough space when you passed in the hallway or sat on the couch at night and watched the news. Things felt tense inside the house and outside, too.

Which is why, four days later, you were sat uncomfortably in a chair next to Glenne in some restaurant in Hollywood.

“This is the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever done.”

“Oh stop,” she waved you off, a full 180 from the Glenne you once knew.

She didn’t seem to completely understand what you were saying. Your eyes trailed down the table, Lexi was busy chatting with a girl you’d met a few times. The band was there, Jeff, other faces and names that offered hugs and hellos as if you’d been around the whole time.

But that wasn’t what made you uncomfortable.

“Oh,” Glenne’s mouth set in a firm line when she saw what you saw. She leaned in and let her voice drop lower. “She worked on the album, I think, helped write a song or two.”

“I don’t care,” you lied, picked up the drink in front of you and took a sip through the black straw. Another gulp, maybe you could ease the knots in your stomach with more alcohol.

He’d been nice leading up to this, said he liked your dress when you sat awkwardly in the car on the drive here. He got Jane bathed and dressed when you got ready, passed her off to your mom for the night after she made the drive down from Santa Paula.

But his arm was slung around the back of her chair now, he nodded and smiled when she said something funny, leaned in to hear her over the noise of the restaurant as if they were old friends.

Glenne sipped her own drink, kept her eyes focused on the two of them, just like you. “She’s nice, she’s not someone you need to worry about.”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, hopefully more convincing this time. “We’re not together--he can do what he wants.”

She turned to look at you, her eyebrows arched when she held her straw between her fingers and took a pull. “Right,” she laughed.

“I mean it, Glenne.”

“What do you mean?” Jeff materialized behind you both, pulled out his chair on the other side of his girlfriend and rejoined the table.

“Y/N’s just going on about how her and Harry aren’t together,” Glenne looked up at Jeff, offered him a sweet smile when he bent down to kiss her on the head.

Jeff laughed at this, smiled over at you and placed his napkin on his lap. “But like, you’re not not together, right?”

“We’re just not together. One ‘not.’ It’s not a thing.”

They both looked at you, straight-faced and expectant, like suddenly you’d let out a laugh and admit this was all a silly joke. “What?” You asked.

“Nothing,” Jeff shrugged. “Just, I thought things were going well.”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes at his words, thankful to feel more comfortable having an honest conversation with both of them. “Things can be going well and that still doesn’t mean we’re together.”

“Yeah, but, things were, like, all sweet and cute after she was born and--”

You cut Jeff off, held up a hand to avoid having the same conversation with Glenne from the other night. “Our focus is Jane.”

He nodded, shrugged as if to imply that yes, of course it was.

Somehow, miraculously, Lexi decided it was time to hop into the conversation, too. She turned around beside you, smiled when she saw that you’d all been congregating right beside her. With a grin on her face; “hi, what’s up?”

“Y/N and Harry are being weird again,” Jeff laughed a little before you offered him a narrowed glare.

“What? Why?” Lexi pulled her head back as if this was the craziest thing she’d ever heard.

“Since when do all of you like to team up against me? Didn’t all of you used to think that this was a bad idea?”

“Not me,” Lexi held her hands up to show innocence.

“Okay, fine,” you corrected. “You two did, though.”

Jeff and Glenne looked at each other and smiled a bit. Maybe the alcohol had gotten to them. Maybe everyone was just relaxed and enjoying the birthday celebrations.

“Opinions change,” was all Jeff offered.

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, well, mine hasn’t. It’s not happening.”

“Because you’re afraid?” Lexi’s words caught you off guard. You turned to eye her, gave some sort of we’re not doing this here look.

“Stop,” was all you said.

“What?” She laughed. “You know I’m right.”

“Let’s just not.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. I love you, but you’re getting in your own way.”

You picked up your drink and took a sip, hoping that it’d be enough of an excuse to relieve you of having to answer.

Jeff offered a hesitant smile, like it pained him to admit it: “she’s right.”

“This is not a good place for us to have this conversation,” you said, their suddenly strong opinions crashed over you like a tidal wave. What happened to not letting things get messy? What happened to following the rules like they’d wanted and staying out of trouble?

Lexi mowed over your statement. “You’re afraid, which is fine, but don’t make us pretend that we don’t see through it.”

“Alright, I’m not doing this.” You pushed your seat back from the table to leave.

“Doing what?” Lexi asked, more frustrated with you.

“Lexi,” Glenne reached out a hand to settle her. “Let it go.”

“Oh so I’m the only one who can be honest with her?”

“Being honest isn’t license to be a dick,” you said.

She rolled her eyes at that and let her hands drop to her lap. “Fine, whatever.”

You reached for your purse and offered Glenne and Jeff a smile. “I’ll see you guys later.”

They didn’t chase after you, they let you slip out to the parking lot, call an uber, and stand there by yourself atop the asphalt and hurt feelings.

As if Lexi hadn’t been enough, Harry stepped out to the hidden back alley after a few minutes.

“Hi,” he said, looking you up and down. “Y’heading out?”

“Yeah,” you offered a smile. “I’m just tired, but, I’m fine.”

Quiet for a second when he hesitated, unsure if he should let you go and unsure if he had the right to stop you. “I saw your mom’s text.”

“Yeah, she’s been asleep for a while, no issues.”

“S’good.”

“Yeah.”

A pause in the night air, he shifted his weight on his feet and for a second, you thought he’d ask you to stay.

“You don’t have to wait here with me,” you told him, clicked your phone to life to see the driver’s ETA. “I called an uber, should be here in three minutes.”

He nodded, shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, yeah, I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yep,” you nodded, smiled when he turned on his heel and let the door to the swanky restaurant close behind him. He was already gone, but you whispered it anyway. “Happy birthday.”

He said he loved the goofy apron you bought him, simple and blue, the word DAD was etched on the front. You signed the card from both of you, left it on the counter that night when you got home. He found it sometime when he keyed in late and brought it up the next day.

But it wasn’t as awkward as walking into the tiny room somewhere in Burbank a almost two weeks later. Jane was in the carseat on the floor and a woman with short brown hair smiled after you handed her back the paperwork you signed.

“So--you said on the phone that you’ve been struggling with anxiety?”

You gave her an unsure nod, shouldn’t she be telling you whether or not that was the case?

“And who’s this?”

“Jane--she should sleep the whole time, I think.”

She smiled. Cassie, a therapist who’s profile came up when Glenne lovingly sent you the link to a website search for therapists. She was young enough, smiled down at Jane and sat back in her chair once she set the clipboard on her desk behind her.

“How old is she?”

“Six weeks.”

She held a hand to her heart and smiled. “How’s that been going?”

You told her about the start of it all, that night at Harry’s and the anxiety that settled in your bones in the Facebook bathroom when you saw the first tiny plus sign. She managed to keep a straight face when you name dropped Jane’s father, a good sign. Or maybe she thought you were crazy and making it up. Either way, you spent the first session just catching her up on the last nine months.

Before that, your life had been quiet. Sure, maybe some unresolved feelings around your parents or tough times in high school like the rest of the world. But whatever lurked beneath the surface had never been shaken up so much until now, like a snowglobe knocked from its shelf, typically settled pieces now swirling in the air around you with no hope of slowing down.

The second session the next week was similar, but that’s when she pushed a little harder.

“But things are totally fine with Harry?”

You nodded. “Yeah--I mean, like I told you last week things were kind of messy for a bit, but they’re fine now.”

“You mentioned that you fought with him recently?”

This time Jane wasn’t there to be a distraction. You lied this morning and told Harry you were meeting Lexi for a coffee, but the truth was that you hadn’t spoken to her since his birthday. He promised he’d take her for a walk and put on a new onesie if she threw up on herself. Leaving her was easier now, he seemed more confident in his ability to handle the things that might go wrong.

But now you wished she was buckled in beside you, an excuse to change the topic or leave the room to change her diaper.

“I guess we fought--he was upset, I was upset.”

“What did you fight about?

“He uh--I guess he thinks we could be good together.”

“And you don’t?”

You shrugged, took a breath and looked around the room. How were you supposed to explain your thoughts to a woman you’d met twice? “I don’t know.”

She eyed you for a minute, the small smile on her face let you know she wanted more.

“I do have feelings for him, I guess.”

“You do?”

Another hesitant nod. “I think just cause of Jane, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, at first I swore it was just the hormones and you know--feeling like we had some weird bond.”

She smiled a little, understanding and encouraging. “You do have a bond.”

“I know, but--I just mean at first it felt like there was something there.”

“But it doesn’t now?”

You dropped her gaze at that. No--it wasn’t not there. “I guess my thought process is that it’s just too risky now.”

“What is?”

“Being with him, like, as a couple.”

“How so?”

You sighed--the questions were fair but you already felt exhausted.

“None of this was planned--for a while it felt like he was only being nice to me cause he got me knocked up. He kind of had to be nice to me.”

“Do you really think that’s true? Do you think he would do that?”

“He’s a nice person,” you shrugged.

“But do you think he would ask you to move in and spend so much time with you and your family if he didn’t actually want to do those things?”

“I mean--no, I guess I only thought that for the first few weeks.”

She nodded thoughtfully, waited to see if you’d add any more. When you didn’t, she parted her lips to speak. “When did you realize he wasn’t just being nice to be nice?”

You thought back on the months you’d spent with him. The time you went to the beach and had a picnic, the nights at his house when he’d make dinner and when the panic that lurked in your tummy about the future felt like it had vanished.

“I guess when we started spending more time together and I actually got to know him.”

Another nod. “So you were nervous at first, which makes sense to me. Do you still fear that that’s true?”

You already had the answer, it sat on your tongue and felt like it’d spill out any second. You glanced around the room, out the window to the sunny streets and wondered what would change if you admitted it.

“I know he won’t leave. I know he won’t just up and never speak to me--to us--again.”

She waited for you to say more.

“But why would he want to be with me? Why--out of all the people he could be with--would he pick the girl who got pregnant with his kid?”

She challenged this, a slight smirk on her face. “He might actually have feelings for you, you know.”

You made a face, shifted in your seat as if to send the message that it was impossible.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Her words were quiet, a sudden shift in the air in the room as if in any second, rain would pour from the ceiling or a wind would sweep her papers off the desk in the corner. Like everything in the world was hinging on the secret about to fall from your lips.

“People don’t stay in my life.”

She frowned at that, aware that she’d actually gotten something out of you now.

“Like who?”

“My last boyfriend, my dad--” the tears that welled in your eyes cut you off, you swallowed the emotion and wiped quickly, embarrassed to be crying in front of someone you’d only met twice.

“You said your parents got divorced when you were little?”

You nodded. “I don’t want Jane to grow up like I did.”

“Who says she will?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “But if him and I are together--if I let that happen--then he can leave, but he can’t leave me and hurt me or us if we’re not together.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Yes he can.”

“What?”

“Whether you’re actually in a relationship with him or not won’t change the emotions you have for him. It’ll still hurt if he leaves or backs out, even if you’re not romantically involved.”

You stared at her for a second, confused by her bluntness. Weren’t therapists supposed to make you feel better?

“I guess.”

She could read the look on your face and offered a small smile. “I’m not trying to freak you out--it just seems like you already love him, so it sounds like it would hurt either way.”

You didn’t reply. You took in a shaky breath of air when you tried to wipe at your cheeks and gain composure.

“It makes a lot of sense that you don’t want the same thing to happen to Jane, but you’ve been telling yourself that it will when you don’t know that. Sometimes when we try to avoid the past really hard we just recreate it.”

You took a few days to let it all sink in. You folded laundry and changed diapers and you took Jane on a walk near the beach with sunglasses and a hat. You never imagined that you’d need a disguise, too.

You’d settled back into a routine of climbing the stairs separately, his footsteps down the hall felt more weighted now with the insight you’d discovered in Cassie’s office.

You tried to take space, not get too overwhelmed by the growing knowledge that you loved him, hopelessly and helplessly. You tried to tuck it away in a drawer beneath your sweaters, like somehow if you kept it out of sight it wasn’t true.

But the world didn’t want to make it so easy.

Your mom called and reminded that your upcoming birthday was the perfect excuse to have another party--one that more of your family could come to, a bigger and more public event than the quiet shower you’d kept under wraps.

They were dying to meet Jane and she was dying to show off her granddaughter to the rest of the family and her friends back home. When you floated the idea to Harry of bringing Jane home with you for a long weekend, his brows furrowed.

“Without me?”

Jane was strapped to his chest at the kitchen counter, he was obsessed with the new wrap you’d gotten online and now he barely took it off. She kicked her legs against his abdomen.

“I mean--I figured we’d just get out of your hair for a while, some space--” you trailed off.

He let out a huff of air and dropped your gaze. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, I just--”

“But you’re doing it anyway?”

“Do you really not want me to go see my own family for my birthday?”

“Why can’t I come?”

“I didn’t know you’d want to,” you eyed him skeptically, smiled at Jane when she made eye contact with you and then started to whine.

“I mean, yeah,” he said it quietly. “I’d like to.”

He offered to drive and a week later you were leaning into the backseat to adjust the toy rattle that hung from Jane’s car seat when he changed lanes on the 101. You’d already briefed him on the players: Aunt Lisa and uncle Melvin. Aunt Melissa and Uncle Mike. Your cousins Cassie, Eric and his boyfriend Tim, Shayna. Cousin Ryan and his wife Sam, their daughter Paige. Your mom’s best friend Tammy and her husband Bill. Their son, Luke.

“I’ll never remember all these people.”

“I don’t expect you to,” you laughed a little. “All you need to know is that Ryan and Sam are super sweet, everyone else is fine. Uncle Mel is a little too Republican for my taste, but, that’s just me. Oh, and Luke was my high school boyfriend. So some people might make comments about that, but it’s fine.”

He looked over to you from behind his sunglasses. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “We dated--we were like, sixteen.”

“How long did you date for?”

“I don’t know, like almost three years?”

“Almost three years?!”

“It was forever ago,” you tried to downplay it. You didn’t expect the reaction he gave.

“Well, yeah, but--did you--”

“Yes,” you cut him off, waved a hand in his direction to get out in front of it. “I lost my virginity to him.”

He lifted his eyebrows at that, shifted in the driver’s seat and kept his eyes on the road.

“Why does that matter?”

“It doesn’t,” he said, a shrug of his shoulders and a quick glance in the rearview mirror to see Jane. “Was just curious.”

You stared at the white lines on the road, watched as they blurred together when he accelerated on the gas. It was only an hour drive, you were there before noon and right in time for Jane to have another bottle.

He was happy to greet everyone who was already there--just a few aunts and cousins who decided they’d help set up platters of food and bowls of juice before the rest of the crew arrived. They fussed over Jane, passed her around and tickled her cheeks, but Harry kept a close eye on whoever had her.

When more people showed up you were whisked away again, hugging cousins you hadn’t seen in ages and trying desperately to not sound like a fool for getting knocked up by a celebrity. Your cousin Carrie didn’t seem to think it was all that bad.

“Not the worst thing in the world, though, right?”

You gave her a knowing look, fought the smile on your face when she elbowed you in the ribs. Carrie was closest to your age, only a year older and always so much cooler than you were growing up.

“Come on, Y/N, he looks pretty good with a baby on his chest.”

“He’s been great with her so far,” you admitted. “I’m just trying to stay sane and deal with turning twenty-six.”

“Must be so hard,” your aunt Lisa pulled you in for a hug when she appeared behind you. “Dealing with a handsome man and a beautiful baby.”

You rolled your eyes at her teasing, hugged your uncle and let out a sigh. “I’m managing, but, you know, it’s been a wild year.”

“And you’ve handled it beautifully,” your mom chimed in, dropping off a cake on the table in the backyard. She kissed you on the cheek, “help me inside for a minute!”

You followed behind her, promised to come tell Carrie more of the_ dirty details_, as she put it. But the kitchen inside was quiet, your mom pulled out more serving dishes from the fridge and handed them to you when she spoke.

“Have you talked to him at all?”

You’d been watching him out the window, he tugged at Jane’s toes while she sat, happily, in your uncle Melvin’s arms. When you pulled your eyes over to hers, she eyed you suspiciously.

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, honey,” she rolled her eyes and let out a short laugh, shutting the fridge and taking inventory of the dishes she’d made. “I know you’re not sleeping all that much, but, I’m not that stupid.”

You sighed, held the bowl of pasta salad in your arms. “Not yet. Not now.”

“Sweetie,” she placed a hand on your shoulder and offered a look of sympathy. “You know what they say. He who hesitates is lost.”

“What?”

“Don’t waste your time,” she shrugged, her gaze immediately going back to food she still wanted to bring outside. Her attention was pulled away by commotion outside, another arrival of family who’d yet to meet your daughter.

And maybe she had a point, but you weren’t wasting time. Your time was spent standing over his shoulder as he learned how to change diapers. Sitting on the edge of the bed in the middle of the night when she wouldn’t stop crying. Thumbing through pages of parenting books or calling your mom instead of ripping out your hair.

Pediatrician appointments and dodging the cameras that seemed to point your way when you stepped out of the fortress on the hill.

And most importantly, protecting your daughter from the same heartbreak you felt your whole life: the one that comes along with a father who’s nowhere to be found.

You hadn’t expected the party to last so long, but the sun started to set and people still loitered around the backyard.

Things quieted down though after dinner, your mom opened another bottle of wine with her sisters and Harry sat at the table with a beer in his hand as he listened to Eric and Tim recount their amazing vacation in Aruba. Jane was on his lap, getting fussier by the second after her evening feed.

You’d avoided it so far, a quick hello and minimal interaction, if only to save yourself an awkward conversation later that night. But when Luke sat down at the empty seat beside you--and directly across from Harry--you knew the night was about to get more interesting.

“So Luke, Y/N told me you two have known each other for a long time,” Harry shifted his attention over to you, a small smile on his face when you locked eyes.

Luke nodded, sipped at his own beer. “Yeah, God, we met when we were in seventh grade?”

“Yep,” you confirmed, a quick nod. “Do you want me to take Jane inside?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. She looked up at him with big blue eyes and then over at you when he smiled down at her. “She’s fine. And you two dated, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke laughed, smiling in your direction. “We spent a lot of time together in high school.”

“I heard,” Harry offered a quick chuckle, you tried to send a message with the narrowing of your eyes.

“What a throwback,” you said sarcastically.

“What is?” your mom was suddenly interested from the other end of the table, a tipsy smile on her face as she pushed up the sleeves of her sweatshirt she’d tossed on at the end of the night.

You and Luke spoke at the same time, but your mumbled nothing didn’t sound as convincing as his answer: me and Y/N dating in high school.

Your mom smiled and held a hand to her chest, which made Tammy suddenly tune into the conversation from a few feet away as she chatted with Carrie.

This made Harry more annoyed, but he hid it well. No one else could tell, probably, but you knew the way his lip twitched and he itched his neck when he didn’t like the way things were going.

“I’m gonna take Jane inside,” you stood from the table and walked over to him with extended arms. Harry stood and set his beer on the table, I’ll come with you.

Once you were alone inside, he started explaining before you could even give him a hard time.

“I’m not trying to be a dick--just getting to know everyone.”

“By interrogating my high school boyfriend about our teenage relationship?”

He shut the door to the guest room and picked up Jane’s diaper bag from the floor. “What else am I supposed to talk to him about?”

“I don’t know--sports, music, anything.”

He rolled his eyes and took out the portable diaper mat. You undid her onesie after you tugged her shorts down.

You held your hand out for a wipe. “You’re a jealous person, aren’t you?”

His brow furrowed, but he handed one over. “Never been told that before,” he tried to keep a straight face, but a giggle escaped his lips.

“There’s nothing between me and Luke,” you promised, tossing the dirty wipe and diaper aside for him to dispose.

He handed you a clean one, picked up the travel-sized baby powder. “Yeah--I mean, you can do what you want, but--”

“I don’t want anything with Luke.”

You fastened the diaper around her hips despite the way she squirmed. He handed you the set of pjs you brought for her, found the swaddle in the bag and then sat on the edge of the bed.

“But you don’t want anything with me, either.”

You let a breath escape your lungs, long and deflated. You’d had enough anxiety about bringing Harry here. But now there was a lurking feeling of nervousness in you about whether or not you’d ruin Jane’s sleep habits by interrupting her routine.

You wrapped Jane in her swaddle and picked her up, thankful for the heaviness of her eyelids when you started to rock her back and forth. “I don’t know what I want.”

You almost told him, laid it all out down the hall from your childhood room. But instead, he nodded, stood from the bed and opened his arms, a look of disappointment in his eyes. “I’ll take her,” he whispered. “Go spend time with your family.”

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list | the playlist

author’s note: woooooowwwwww we are close to the end, pals! the next chapter will be the last one!!!!!

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @haute-romance-quotidienne @dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @blackxxmagicc @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey @caritocp @kaybee87 @wildbeee @hsunflowervol @harrys-medicines @tobe-sogolden @theresnooneheretosave @1d-tommo5 @soullikestyles @mrsfstyles @you-youneverdo @fstopsteph @cock-a-doodely-doo @s-u-t @mleestiles @rubytersteege @heartsandwheels @rainbowparadiseharry @ainatirb-j @sing-me-a-song-harry @g0bl1nqueen @mmithharold @harrymfingstyless @yourpolaroid07 @zarrysfineline @pinkpolaroidgirl @staceystoleyourheart @kind-heart @galsingold @adams-tammy72 @ednaofearth @neverland-city @zna0000 @mythoughtsvsreality @damnigotadime @stylesfics-xx @goldenncherrybombb @splendidsunsetsx @guccicreature @niallsfoolsgold @sunnflowerchild @lanallaa @harrys-stan @kialawley7274 @odetostep @wastedsweetcreature @rainbowbutterflyboy @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @goldenngracee @youredeadrong @indaydreamswithme @amaridon @icedsoylattes @cronias13 @sltwins @rbforsmileycal @tobesosunflower @noxiousacilegna @svnflowrv6 @flagitiume @splamilton @sloanferg @szaghata @girlgotattitude448 @ji5hine @strawberrrypie @stay-lovely @pwettyyharry @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @swooningoverstyles @golden-asoab @svnflowervol-6 @twinswallows @kammy67 @bookwormandteasstuff @peter-prkr @harrys-suits @kiwicherryharry @harriedstylus @harbear77 @tpwkxxkiwis @theresalotof0spaceoutthere @allthenicekids @harrys-watermelons @laura-q @sweeeetcreeaturee@britnicole11 @crowdedimagines @winesex @abundanceofsoph @spideys-wife @cherryyharryy @goldencherrymooon @begluketostay @jcgarciaa12 @thesarcasticshrink @magiclolipopqueen

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hournites · 3 years

Note

“how much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

I will understand if you make it Rick, but if you could somehow make Beth say it, I would love you forever

“What’s going on here?!” Courtney asks, plopping down into geography class late with the Starbucks her mom bought for her at a drive-thru after getting stitches taken out this morning. Luckily, their teacher is out and their sub doesn’t even have Beth’s attention, so the lesson goes ignored.

“Rick has been training Beth for a few weeks to build up her strength,” Yolanda clues her in. “They’re arm wrestling.” She glances at the scar up Courtney’s leg. “How’s the shin?”

Court extends her leg out for Yolanda to inspect. “Only a little gross.”

Yolanda grins. “That’s great.”

Courtney stares as Beth shakes out her arm with a determined face. She rolls up her sleeve and sits in the seat pulled backwards to face Rick’s. He sits on his own chair leaned forward with a lazy smile, utterly relaxed.

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Beth scolds, but she’s smirking.

Court sips on her ice coffee and observes. “This isn’t even training. It’s flirting.”

“I know,” Yolanda says.

Four arm-wrestling flirting matches goes by in quick succession, Beth winning every time.

“You’re cheating,” Beth accuses. “You’re not even trying.”

“I just don’t want to hurt your arm, Beth.”

She huffs. “Then what’s the point!?”

Rick laughs. “Seeing you get competitive?”

“No, no, no.” Beth points a finger at him. “You rigged this. I have to show that I’m getting stronger.”

“Babe, you are getting stronger, you lasted twenty seconds last round.”

Beth scoffs.

“If Beth wants to train for real, I can always teach her boxing,” Yolanda pipes up.

“No,” they both say in unison.

Courtney frowns. “What’s wrong with boxing?”

“Nothing,” Yolanda mutters. “They just don’t want me third-wheeling.”

“Wait. I’ll prove I’m stronger.” Beth stands up suddenly and scrutinizes her desk.

“What are you doing?” Courtney asks as Rick watches her oddly.

“How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

Rick’s jaw drops open. “You wouldn’t!”

“I will. With one hand.”

“You’d get in trouble.”

Beth shrugs, unbothered. “Maybe I could use a detention or two.”

“What!?” Yolanda cries. “Beth that’s crazy. You have a flawless behaviour record.”

But Beth is only leaning into Rick’s personal space. “How. Much. Money?”

Rick stares at her mouth, obviously into this Beth rebellion. “I’m literally broke.”

Courtney digs out a ten from her pocket. “Ten because I’m enjoying the chaos and my allowance doesn’t come until next week.”

“I’ll take it!” Beth says gleefully. She pockets it, flexing her hands, and then without warning flips over her desk with one arm.

They all jump back, Rick falling flat on his ass from the surprise.

The substitute teacher stops talking about Barbados to yell at them. “What are you doing!?”

Beth reaches down and helps Rick up, actually doing a decent amount of pulling to yank him from the floor. Yolanda puts her hood up and moves halfway across the room, pretending like she’s never seen the three before in her life and somehow getting away with it.

“Well?!”

Beth turns to the teacher and comes to Courtney’s rescue who only seemed to be able to stammer at the sub. She leans against Rick who stares at her with hearts in his eyes to exclaim, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! There was a spider!”

She elbows Rick in the ribs. “Uh,” he says. “Yeah. A big one.”

Courtney totally gets why Yolanda is embarrassed, but she just grins and backs up their nonsense, describing the big non-existent spider in detail because she loves her crazy friends.

#fluff #psycho-crazy-pineapples #ask #hournite #stargirl #wildcat #starcat

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Text

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

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fandomnetworks · 4 years

Text

HE’S WEIRD.

PART 1 PART 2

Summary: Your past comes to light and the uncomfortable truth seems to intrigue the DEA agents.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Violence and Cursing

Authors note: A lot more of the reader’s past in this part, I felt like it would be a great foundation for future parts. I promise there will be more Javi interactions in the next. Also if you haven’t read the first two parts I’d highly recommend you do!

Thanks my lovelies.

Were you fabricating lies straight through your teeth the night your so-called friend left that voicemail? Absolutely, and you hoped Peña did not call you out on your bluff. His quizzing eyes made your stomach hurl inside. Thankfully, he was too tired to be "dealing with you" and stopped asking questions. He headed out of your apartment once you assured him you wouldn't go out again, and if anything happened, you'd call him or Steve.

-----

It had been about two days from the time Peña last visited your apartment. Instead, in his place, Steve would see you at night; he was far nicer than Peña and would even bring you food that Connie made or food he bought for dinner. But tonight, you offered him freshly baked cookies you had spent nearly half of the morning looking for all the ingredients.

Taking a seat at the dinner table, both you and Steve had a coffee mug in your hands. He usually stayed about 10 minutes before leaving, and today was no different. "Javi told me some guy is bothering you?" He said in more of a question than a statement tone.

Something inside you stirred; you felt something but couldn't explain the feeling. Your cheeks became red, as you thought, what else did they talk about you when you weren't around. But you also felt terrible that you were lying to one of the few good people you've met since moving back to Colombia. But you weren't ready; you hadn't collected enough information yet to bring your plan to life and take that motherfucker down.

"Yeah, an old fling that didn't spark back up."

"You know, you should be careful with guys like that," Steve noted, eyeing your facial expressions, taking a sip of his drink.

If it hadn't been for the boost of adrenaline due to the two extra spoonfuls of coffee in your cup, you would have never reacted faster than Steve when your phone went off. His arm was just about to stretch out and pick the phone when your body lunged forward.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Lifting the phone from the receiver, you avoided all eye contact with him. You knew the look he was giving you, and between the man you knew was calling and Steve's attitude, you would have collapsed.

"Hello?"

"Mira, yo se donde vives, no me estes jugando con tus chingaderas." (Look, I know where you live, don't play your shit with me).

"Yes, hi, how are you?" You covered the speaker of the phone and whispered to Steve, "it's one of my college friends."

"How am I? Fucking mad, next time I see you, I'll make sure you pay for this."

"Lovely," A smile appeared on your face, "I'm glad to hear you're doing great. Hey, but listen, I have company; I'll call you back in an hour. Talk to you in a bit."

Even though your heart was beating a thousand times a minute, your facial expressions remained free. You tried comprehending that he said he knew where you lived. He, of course, could be bluffing and lying; it wouldn't be the first time. This only infuriated you and made you want to catch him so much more. He couldn't hold your life, your emotions for the rest of your life. But if you did nothing to stop him, he would continue to torture you and the rest of Colombia.

It wasn't much longer until Steve departed, telling you that Connie was probably wondering where he was.

---

Before your brother became president and before you had left for New York, your family was already in the spotlight. Your mom was a well-known doctor, and your dad was in politics himself. That meant people of high society always surrounded you. In one of the many parties hosted by your parents, you met a man named Santiago Matias.

At first, he was the kind of man to open doors for you, call you love names, buy you gifts, and take you out to eat often. His personality and his charm won you over. After a few weeks, you soon found him on one knee proposing to you.

The first red flag you should have noticed and ran in the opposite direction was how mysterious and quiet he was about his life. All you knew was that he was the child of one of your dad's close friend group.

You never thought that the ounce of cocaine in his pockets was just a sample he was giving out to people. He was a drug dealer.

If you had known the truth and the extent of his dealings, you would have never been associated with him. You would have never accepted his gifts and gestures if you knew the refined gifts of luxury were bought with narco money. You would have never fallen asleep in his arms and let his hands roam your body if you had known those hands had been used to take life. And you would have never kissed his lips knowing that his commands caused the death of dozens.

You took off the nearly $5,000 engagement ring and threw it at his face when you confronted him of his "work." You told him you never wanted to see him again, and you hoped he rotted in hell.

Now, you were out for revenge. You felt disgusted that you were once associated with him and needed to bring justice to all the people he ever harmed. When you were 17, the only thing you knew was that you wanted to be as far away as you could from him and that type of lifestyle. But after all these years, you were out for blood, and there was no stopping you.

He had connections to Pablo Escobar; if you could bring Santiago down, maybe just maybe you could bring a piece of information to the table and help bring Escobar down too. Santiago was a chesspiece to Escobar's game, and you were ready to destroy their empire and slaughter the world they created.

You might be "just the president's sister," the damsel in distress, but you had your own demons too.

---

The night was coming to an end, and the clock on your wall read 9:48 p.m. The phone rang for a total of 4 times, and you were sure he wasn't going to pick up; yet, the deep voice of your ex-fiancé sounded through the speaker.

The call only lasted 20 seconds. He only got in a hello before you responded, "6 p.m., you only no one else, at Chonche's." And you hung up before he could answer.

You would get as much information as you could from him at Chonche's restaurant. Once you were close to him, you'd bring him down.

6 p.m. would give you just enough time to meet up with him, extract as much as you could and be back home before Steve's regular visit at 8.

Easy right?

---

Wrong.

According to the leather watch on your left wrist, it was 5:58 p.m. as you entered the restaurant. The knife on your waist dug into your skin every time you took a step. It was a good reminder that you had it in case you needed it. You had tried covering your face and image by covering your body with black clothes and a dark baseball cap. The restaurant wasn't particularly a family-friendly one. Now that you thought about it, you had never seen a single child walk in here, especially not voluntarily.

In fact, every, every person in the restaurant, which was only about five people, including the bartender, was a drug dealer, narco, or a murderer. You laid your head low as you took a seat on a worn-out leather stool at the bar, far away from the men sitting at the back of the room.

Your heartbeat could be heard in your ear, the sweat accumulating around your forehead wasn't going unnoticed by the fabric of your cap. Why wasn't Santiago here? He was always on time, never a second early or late. Something was wrong. Did he set up a trap? Was this a mistake? Was he even coming?

The bartender came up and asked what drink he could get you, and you ordered your favorite beverage. Your leg began to bounce due to the anxiety you started to feel in your chest. Looking down at your watch, it read 6:02.

The front door swung wide open, the face of your ex-lover was nowhere, instead in his place was fucking Javier Peña. Quickly ducking your head, you were surprised it didn't snap.

Had he seen you? Your cheeks turned a light shade of red as the bartender walked up and handed you the alcoholic drink.

Looking back at the entrance where Peña once stood, a sigh of relief escaped your lips; he hadn't seen you.

But then you began to think. Why was Peña in a place like this? Was he a narco? Was his DEA position just a stunt? Was Peña a Santiago? Of course, he was; you only found dangerous men attractive. Your hindsight was absolute trash. Maybe he grabbed the drugs he collected during raids and resold the-

"What are you doing here?" Peña's voice whispered in your left ear as you turned the stool to look at him.

"Are you one of them?" You asked, hoping to hear the correct answer and not the one you were dreading.

"What? No. Have you been following me?" Solely by him towering over you, he started to get some stares from the men across the room.

"I should ask you the same question. I was here before you." You took a sip of your drink, trying to remain calm. If Santiago found you with a DEA agent, he would think you were setting him up and would leave.

Instead of taking a seat next to you, Peña placed a steel grip on your bicep, "Answer my question."

"Would you at least take a seat so they can stop looking at us?"

"No, we're leaving." He pulled you up from the stool.

"Let go of me."

Without answering you, he pushed you out of the restaurant. You let him. There was something wrong due to the lack of your ex's appearance.

Once outside, the two of you walked a few meters away from the restaurant; he pulled you to the side, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and asked, "What were you doing in there."

"I was meeting someone."

"Who?" he was clearly upset by the way he corned you against the wall, his face nearly inches away from yours. He was so close; you could smell the lingering scent of his cigarette fumes, the cologne on his neck, and could see the fine lines that made up his lips.

"San-"

The sound of a loud explosion to the left of you ended with the tear of tissue in your eardrum, making you lose most of your hearing. A fire came blazing from Chonche's windows. The glass from the windows shattered around the ground you had just walked on a few seconds ago. The windows of the businesses around the restaurant broke as well.

Peña instantly launched at you; he used himself as a shield to protect you from danger. The gun that was once inside the worn-out holster was now in his hands as he pointed it at anything that caught his attention.

The sounds of car anti-theft went off; sirens were blaring as paramedics and police officers began to make their way. The sound of wood burning tickled your ears, the crackle in any other situation would be soothing, but right now, it made Peña hyperaware of all the danger around you. In contrast, you could barely hear anything. Everything around you was going in slow motion except for Peña's lips when he turned to look at you. His lips were moving, but you heard jack squat. The way his mouth was opening wide with every word he said and his eyebrows knitting towards each other, you could conclude he was for sure yelling.

You nodded, not knowing what else to say or do.

Which only made him more enraged.

He pulled you out of immediate danger, his hands holding on to you as he pushed you towards his car. He was silent. And you were in no bit surprised. With the amount of adrenaline running through your system, the only thing going through your mind was how to breathe normally again and how to get your hearing back. His main priority was to get you inside his car and make sure no one was following.

Once inside, you asked, "Where are we going?"

He glanced at you quickly before looking back at the road, "Good, you can hear now. Who were you suppose to see?"

"Santiago Matias," You looked at him for a reaction but were somewhat surprised his face remained emotionless. "He's my ex-fiancé."

The worn-out, bruised knuckles on his hands turned white as the grip on the steering wheel became stronger. "You were engaged to him?" Now, the face of disgust was plastered on his tanned face. His words were said through gritted teeth. If you hadn't been paying close attention to his words, you wouldn't have heard him.

"I didn't know what he did when I first met him." You were about to tell Javier Peña about some of the worst times in your life, and you were afraid. You explained how you met, how he manipulated you after the honeymoon phase. What did you know about life at the age of 17? He was nearing 28 when you met him, and he used your naiveness against you. He was just starting his killer life, and as soon as you found out about his "work," you broke things off.

One day while you were walking around a local market buying some groceries, you reached to a vendor's stand. You went to pick up a couple of apples when the elderly lady working the stand caught your forearm. She lifted your wrist to her eyes and began to yell. She claimed that the bracelet you had belonged to her deceased daughter. You were immediately telling her that the bracelet was given to you for your six-month anniversary. She disagreed, pulling an old folded picture from her pocket. It had her daughter with the exact bracelet, down to the customized stones. She asked you to take it off, and you'd find the name Amalia engraved inside of it.

Your face became red; you knew that the name was on it. Of course, you did; you bragged about it to your friends. It was one of the most beautiful bracelets you'd seen. The word Amalia, you had assumed was a brand name. Never had it crossed your mind that it was a personal touch for a girl.

Santiago was known to give you gifts at all times of the week. He seemed like the kind of guy your dad would be proud of. Little did you know that as the elderly lady spoke about your fiancé, your relationship would soon begin to fall apart like a game of Jenga. Never in your worst nightmares did it ever cross your mind that the gifts he got you was bought with narco money or collected from deceased bodies. The woman told you that Santiago Matias had killed her family, including her 3-month-old grandson. The only reason that she was saved was because one of Matias' men knew her personally.

There and then, you took off the bracelet and handed it to the rightful owner. You didn't know what to say or do. Due to the man you were in love with, her whole family was gone. How many other families had he ruined? That very day, you broke off the wedding and told him you wished him a slow death. That you never wanted to see him again, and if he ever came near you again, you'd kill him yourself.

You left to get your bachelor's that very fall and seemed determined never to come back. However, as the short four years passed, and as you began to study to enter a masters program, you were pulled back home. The threat against your brother made him weary, and he wanted you close to home where he could protect you. That's how you ended up trading your comfy apartment with the hot neighbor to Colombia's small apartment. Thankfully the only thing that didn't change was the hot neighbor part.

Once you had finished explaining that time in your life, Peña made eye contact with you as the car came to a stop due to the traffic, "Why didn't you do anything?" The mood in the car shifted from frustration to confusion.

That was your worst regret of your entire life. Maybe if you had stopped him back then, he wouldn't have an empire today with the world's most famous narco. You felt uncomfortable under his harsh and intense gaze. The right words seemed to escape your lips as you tried forming the correct sentence. "I...I don't know. I didn't want to think that the man I was willing to marry could do such a thing."

You closed your eyes, not wanting to look at him, and took a deep breath. You had never told anyone the real story behind your first and probably only fiancé you'll ever have. Turning your head towards the window, you opened your eyes and looked at the passing cars as traffic began to lighten up. The only way you thought you could make things up was by bringing him down.

And apparently, Peña thought the same way, "Well, I don't know what to tell you Y/n." The car began to move, and so did the wheels of his brain as he began to plan out a solution.

"Listen," You turned to look at him, "I've been trying to set up a meeting with him for a while now. Today obviously didn't go as well as I had planned. But I'll try again. I can set up another meeting. It's the least I can do, right?"

He pulled into the base where Steve and Carrillo were, setting things up for tomorrow. Peña looked at you with a look of 'are-you-stupid.' "No what? He just tried killing you." He pulled into a parking spot.

"Exactly-" Both of you got out of the vehicle, walked towards the building; his long stride compared to yours made you trail behind him. "I-we can use that and-"

"No." He cut you off, just as Carrillo and Steve walked out of the building. You looked down at your watch; it read 7:02.

"Hey, where have you been?" Steve questioned Peña, quickly saying hi to you before pulling Peña to the side and updating him on the movement of their operation.

When Carrillo approached you, out of instinct, you gave him a quick hug. It had been a while since you had seen the handsome Colonel, and you did miss his snarky remarks. At first, he was tense but soon loosened up to your touch and hugged you back.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Peña staring at your interactions with Carrillo.

Small talk emerged. You asked him how he'd been and asked about the two soldiers who had stayed by your side all those weeks. In return, he asked if you were readjusting to the climate of Colombia. You also admitted you had missed him and invited him over to your apartment. (A girls gotta do what a girls gotta do)

But before he could ask you the purpose of your visit, you told him you had information about Santiago Matias. Which he instantly became intrigued. Once the Colonel caught on to Peña's lingering eyes, he asked you, "What's his problem?" The two of you fully turned to peer at him. Javier quickly glanced at Steve, pretending y'all hadn't caught him.

Brushing it off, you said, "I don't know, he's weird." A chuckle came out of Carrillo. He signaled for both men to follow him as the four of you made it inside the base.

---

Inside, you and Steve took a seat at a large table in Horacio's office, while he and Peña stood in front of you.

Quickly telling them the truth about your relationship with Santiago, you told them everything Peña had just heard and the explosion at the restaurant. In a heartbeat, you were getting a stern look from Carrillo and Steve telling you how stupid your plan was, asking you what the hell were you thinking.

"So what Peña and I were thinking was, I could bait him out by meeting up with him again."

"I didn-"

"What?" Steve yelled, looking at you and then at Peña, giving him a look of, are-you-serious.

"I did not agree to that," Peña stated, taking a seat on the table next to Steve. "We can use Y/n to..."

Fast forward an hour, countless coffee and whiskey refills, papers skewed around the table, and on the bulletin board, you had a phone to your ear. This time the room was full of soldiers and some higher uppers, which did not help your nerves. Carrillo, Murphy, and Peña sat around you, urgently and stressful waiting for Santiago to pick up.

After the second ring, you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. It felt so odd that the man you were willing to marry all those years back, now made you afraid.

Just as the third ring sounded through your ears, he picked up.

You motioned for Peña to start recording.

"Hello?"

"I'm alive, mi amor."

TAG LIST:

(Let me know if you want to be added!)

luvzoria smoke-and-sunset xletmetaste-yoursmilex youcancallmeaphrodite

Also sorry for any typos I’ve been editing and revising this for the past week and I have like 3 other versions of how this could have played out. ALSO I really want to incorporate a jealous Javi in the next chapter.

Again, thanks lovelies for taking a moment to read!

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #narcos imagines #Steve murphy #horacio carrillo

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fictionalabyss · 4 years

Text

She didn’t show.

Pairing : Dean x Various, Dean x Reader, Sam

Word count : 3,589

Written for : @spnfluffbingo

Square : Online dating.

Warnings : Flangst, online dating, unrequited love, catfishing, guilt, angry Dean, regret.

A/N : I had this idea, and ended up shoving it in this square for a fill and now I’m not thrilled with how it turned out. So this idea is going to eventually get re-done and given some proper justice. Until then, enjoy this version lol.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

SPN Fluff bingo 2020 Masterlist.

Dean smirked to himself as he hurried past the library and towards the garage. His eyes were so focused on his phone, he didn’t notice he was being watched. “Where you headed?”

“Hot date.” his smile widened.

“Yeah? Finally treating your left hand to something nice after all the work it’s done for you?”

“Fuck off.” Dean snapped. “I’ll have you know it’s a real person.”

“Pictures or it didn’t happen.” you crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. You were surprised when Dean stormed over and shoved his phone in your face. A blonde haired bombshell sitting on a classic car covered his screen. “Looks like something you’d find on some dudes calendar.” you chuckled.

“You’re just jealous that I’ve got a date.” he said smugly before walking away. “Don’t wait up.”

“For you? Never.” you laughed.

As Dean vanished from view, your phone chimed. You pulled out your phone and opened the app with the bright red notification. Going to your messages you licked your lips as you read the latest one that had just come in.

> Can’t wait to finally meet you tonight.

Leaving it on read, you closed the app and hit the power button on your phone as Sam walked into the library, handing you a beer. “Where’d Dean go?”

“Manicure.”

“Manicure?” Sam stopped half way to his seat on the other side of the table and gave you a confused look.

“Said he had a hot date.” you shrugged. “I figure either a manicure, or maybe he’s going to buy some gloves.” Sam’s smile was bright and wide as it grew into a laugh. “You know, change it up a bit.”

“You're an ass.” Sam shook his head, still laughing as he finally got to his chair and sat down.

“You love me.” you lifted the drink to your lips.

“Didn’t you even consider that he might just have found some new porn so embarrassing he’s scared to watch it here?” you snorted, your drink almost coming out of your nose. “Yeah.. you’re right.. It’s Dean. He has no shame when it comes to porn.” Sam shook his head as you laughed hysterically.

“And what could possibly be worse than what he’s already watching?” you clutched at your stomach, sliding lower in the chair as Sam shuddered at the thought.

An hour and a half later, Dean walked back into the bunker, eyes on his phone with a glare as he mumbled.

“Dean?” Sam sat up straighter in his chair, watching as his brother stormed past.

“You’d think he’d be happier after such a hot date.” you mused.

“Fuck off.” Dean snapped. “I’m not in the fucking mood.” he growled before disappearing down the hall.

Getting up, you left Sam behind and went to find Dean. He was pacing around his room, eyes still on his phone. “Dean, you okay?”

“Peachy.”

“Dean-”

“She didn’t show, okay?” before you could say anything he turned to you, finger pointed right at your face. “And don’t you fucking laugh or give me some bullshit about how everyone gets stood up, I don’t.” he growled the last two words.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” he tossed his phone onto his bed. “I don’t fucking know.” he sighed. “One second she can’t wait to see me, the next.. ghosted.”

“Okay, but for real, Dean. Since when do you give a shit? Since when do you not just move on to the next?”

“I kinda liked her.” he mumbled quietly. “But whatever, right?” He shrugged. “Her loss?”

“Yeah. Her loss.” you gave him a smile. “Beer and pie?”

“There’s pie?”

“There’s pie.” you nodded.

“You’re so good to me.” Dean pulled you into a hug and you smiled, ducking your face against his chest as your arms went around his waist.

“What are friends for, Dean.” the sentiment earned you a kiss on the top of your head before he let you go and you headed for the kitchen.

“You’re in a good mood.” you smiled up at Dean from the motel room table as he walked in, coffee tray in hand. “Let me guess, waitress slipped you her number?” Dean chuckled and shook his head. “Really? Huh.. okay.. Uh.” you thought for a second. “Oh, soccer mom, fresh from school drop off is sexually frustrated cuz her husband is shit in the sack and you’re gonna give her exactly what the dr ordered?”

“You’re disgusting, no.” he shot you a look. “New state, new matches.” he smiled, putting down the coffee and pulling out his phone. “Matched up with this one girl-” you tuned him out as he showed you the girl he’d messaged while out getting coffee.

“Looks hot.” you mumbled, reaching for your cup and tearing your eyes away from his screen. Doing your best to hide the jealousy.

“She is.” he grinned. “You should see this one pic-”

“I don’t think Y/N wants to see some other woman's nudes, Dean.” Sam joked, stepping out of the bathroom in boxer briefs and a shirt, towel drying his hair.

“Of course she does.” Dean scoffed. “She’s my best wingman.”

“Actually, I need to piss. Been waiting for Sammy to get out of that bathroom since the turn of the century.” you laughed as you got up from your seat, leaving Dean laughing at his brothers expense behind you.

“I wasn’t that long.” Sam defended himself.

“Sure there, Rapunzel. “ Dean laughed as the door shut behind you.

Once locked away from them in the privacy of the bathroom, the smile you had plastered to your face fell. Another one? He already had another one? It was the third girl he’d talked to so far this month. Was he planning on meeting her? Fucking her? Of course he was, otherwise he wouldn’t be smiling like an idiot. Pulling out your phone, you opened the app, signed out, and signed up creating a new profile. You kept everything basic but intriguing, found a random picture on google that you knew would grab attention, and hit create. Taking a deep breath, you got to work, swiping past various people as you flushed the unused toilet and ran the water in the sink for a moment. You finished up on your phone, tucked it back into your pocket and stepped out.

“What's your excuse?” Sam teased, poking at how long you were in the bathroom.

“Coffee.” you answered. “You want the details?”

“No ma’am.” Sam was quick to turn back to his own coffee, smile gone from his lips.

“Didn’t think so.”

“Hope you sprayed.” Dean muttered, eyes on his phone.

“Yeah, entire bottle of that cheap cologne you bought for that date last month.” Dean’s eyes shot up and he glared.

“Oof, that bathroom must smell nasty now.” Sam teased.

“Both of you can fuck off, okay, it smelled good.”

“So good she didn’t show up.” Sam teased with a laugh.

“Fuck you both.” Dean spat, getting up from his chair and storming out of the room.

“Think we took it too far, Sammy.”

“He’s done it to me enough times. Since when does he buy cologne anyways?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Did you really spray it?” Sam asked.

“No.” You laughed. “I threw it out a week ago. He hasn’t noticed yet. We’ll just pretend he left it behind somewhere.” you put your finger to your lips to signal it was your little secret.

“Deal. I hope I never smell it again.” Sam scrunched up his face before opening his laptop. “Did Dean get those files from the sheriff?”

“Yeah, I think so..” As you reached for Dean's bag, your phone chimed. Peaking into his duffle, you saw the folders sitting on top and pulled them out, handing them to Sam.

“Maybe we can figure this out while he throws his tantrum.” Sam muttered as you pulled out your phone.

“Yeah.. maybe.” you answered quietly, opening the dating app and seeing you had a new match. You smiled to yourself as you clicked to send a private message.

< For some reason I was feeling a little off today. But when you came along, you definitely turned me on ;)

It was ballsy. Forward and crude could go very wrong, but it just might make him laugh and you were hoping it would. You waited, baited breath as ‘read’ appeared on the screen but nothing followed. You waited a few minutes, pretending to research on your phone before you cursed yourself and closed the app. Your gamble had failed.

With a sigh, you opened your browser and started to actually research. “What’s wrong?” Sam glanced over.

“Dead end.” you lied.

“Yeah.. it’s a rough one.” he nodded, eyes back on his laptop again.

A moment later, your phone went off again.

> Impala67 : Are you a parking ticket, because you’ve got FINE written all over you.

> Impala67 : I’m Dean, by the way.

< Charlotte.

> Impala67 : Nice to meet you, Charlotte.

You expected Dean to come back after an hour pissed, but he didn’t. You didn’t see him until some time a bit after 4:30. “I take it the date went well?” you tried to hide the bite in your tone and were thankful enough he was still enjoying enough of his post fuck high to miss it.

“Didn’t show, but quickly recovered.” he winked as he shut the motel room door behind him. “Why you up so early? Did you wait up for me?” his smile got wider.

“No. You said we were leaving at 5am, remember?”

“Okay but it’s-”

“Almost 5. And Sam’s showering.”

“I’ll just use yours-”

“I’m already checked out.” you turned your attention to your phone. “Next time, take others into consideration, please.”

“What the fuck is up your ass?” he snapped. “Since when do you care where I am or when I get back?”

“Since either I have to smell the stench coming off of you the whole drive, or we’re behind schedule.” you got up from your seat and grabbed your bag. “I’ll be in the car, praying you didn’t fuck in my seat.”

“They’re all my damn seats.” he snapped at you as the door shut behind you. “What the fuck is going on?”

You were behind Dean in the car, he’d jumped in a quick shower, even changed his clothes but when you looked up your eyes were drawn to the dark mark on his neck. Rolling your eyes, you unlocked your phone, signed out of the app and created a new profile.

“What’s gotten into her?” you heard him mumble to Sam.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

You glanced up, and Dean's eyes were on you in the rear-view, but you were quick to look back down at your phone.. “Never mind.” he sighed. “Forget it.”

Another city, another stand up, another pissed off Dean, and then it was back home to Lebanon. The recently finished case on no one's mind. Dean's mood was shit. It was the 12th time he’d been stood up and he was swearing he was done with the dating apps. Fed up with women ghosting him like he was some chump.

You were answering messages on your phone when Dean slammed on the breaks, making you hit the back of the seat in front of you and drop your phone.

“HEY ASSHOLE! YOU NEVER SEE A FUCKING STOP SIGN BEFORE?” Dean was screaming out the window, much to Sam’s embarrassment. The guy flipped him off and Dean revved his engine ready to follow.

“Dean.” Sam warned.

“Whatever.” he surged the car forward, making you fly back against the seat again. With a sigh and a head shake to Sam who’d glanced back at you, you looked out the window and waited for the bunker to come into sight.

Dean was still sitting in his car, parked in the bunker garage. He couldn’t figure it out, and he was trying. Was it something he was saying? Was he being too eager? Too desperate? Too cocky? No, this always worked for him, he hadn’t changed anything. Maybe it just wasn’t how shit worked online, but why agree to meet up if they weren’t going to show..

He was deep in thought when he heard a phone chime. He sighed and pulled out his, but saw no notifications. That confused him until he heard another chime. He glanced around and into the back seat. It took him a minute, but then he spotted it, your phone down on the floor. You must have dropped it when he’d slammed on his brakes when that asshole almost plowed right into him and forgot it. Leaning over the back of the seat, he reached for it.

He was making his way out of the garage when your phone chimed again, and he looked down at the screen as it lit up with the notification. “Dude is coming in hot.” he laughed seeing the beginning of the message some guy had sent. “Is this the kinda shit chicks like?”

Curious now, he swiped his thumb across your screen and was surprised it unlocked without some kind of code. He’d scold you about that later, because he knew he’d get an earful right back for snooping.

He recognized the app that opened. It was the same dating one he’d been trying out. He had no idea you were on there and wondered why he’d never come across your profile. “Why does she even need online dating?” he wondered, reading the messages from some strange guy. Dude was bold, coming on too strong, and he could see your messages were half teasing, but mostly uninterested.

Then he saw the name. “Son of a bitch.”

“You!?” You spun around as Dean stormed into your room, your phone in his hand, and your eyes shot right to it. “It was fucking you!?”

“De-”

“Were they all you?” he demanded, and you clamped your mouth shut. “They were, weren’t they?” he scoffed. “I can’t believe you. I thought we were friends, who the fuck does that to someone? Do you know how fucked up that is?” he unlocked your phone and showed off the messages with him that had spanned the last week and a half until he got stood up and you stopped responding. “Why would you do this to me? WHY!?”

“I’m-”

“Don’t you fucking tell me your sorry.” he growled. “Sorry doesn’t mean shit to me right now, sorry doesn’t even begin to fucking cover what you did to me. I thought it was me. I thought I was the fucking problem, but it wasn’t. It was you.” he shot your phone onto your bed.

Tears blurred your eyes. “Dean, I-”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t even want to fucking see you.” he spat before storming out.

You stood there staring at the spot on the floor he vacated. Fighting not to let the tears loose. You’d fucked up. You’d fucked up so bad and there was no taking it back. Swallowing, you turned and started re-packing the bag that you’d be unpacking when he stormed in.

You were working on your second bag when you heard Sam sigh from the doorway. “Why’d you do it?”

“Doesn’t matter.” you mumbled, not turning to face him. Not wanting to see the same look his brother had given you before storming out.

“It matters to him.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Where are you going to go?” Sam asked after a moment of silence.

“I don’t know. But I’m not wanted here anymore, so..” you zipped up the bag and grabbed your phone and keys before slinging one of the bags over your shoulder and grabbing the other.. “It is what it is.”

“Keep in touch, at least?”

“No promises. Good bye, Sam.” and with that, you walked past him and headed for the garage and your car that had been parked there for months.

Before deleting the app, you send out one last message, an apology. Then you deleted all accounts, deleted the app and changed your number. You’d driven off beyond the Midwest and out of their lives, trying your best to never look back, but it was hard. You’d been moving from motel to motel, hunt to hunt like you use to years ago. You’d gotten so use to having somewhere to settle, somewhere to call home. Now all you had was shitty diners, shitty beer, and even worse motel rooms.

It had been about 4 months since you walked out of the bunker. You were tired, and lonely, but no one in the bar you sat at caught your interest, so you finished off your beer and left. The 10 minute walk back to the motel in the cool air doing nothing for your mood. But nothing had been able to lift your mood in a long time.

You walked into your motel room and looked around. It was time to move on, you’d been here a week too long already, but you weren’t sure where to go next. Dropping onto the bed, you grabbed your laptop and started to look for a case.

A knock sounded on your door, and you ignored it. Then again. The third time it was louder. “I’M NOT FUCKING INTERESTED.” you yelled out, only for whoever it was to pound on the door this time. “Jesus fuck.. Take a goddamn hint-” the words died on your lips when you yanked the door open and saw him standing there. “Dean..”

“About fucking time.” he muttered stepping past you and into the room, looking around at the mess. “Looks cozy.” he teased.

“A real home away from home.” you muttered, shutting the door.

“Speaking of, when are you coming back?” he glanced back at you behind him. “I think your tantrum lasted long enough, don’t you?”

“I’m not.” you gave him a confused look. “You didn’t want to see me again, remember? So I left. Why are you here, Dean?”

“Couldn’t exactly call you.” he pointed out. “Numbers disconnected.”

“Changed it.”

“Yeah. And ghosted me again.”

“Again, you didn’t want to see me again.” you pointed out. “What do you want from me?”

“I want to know why. Why’d you do that to me, you have to admit, it was fucked up.” You sigh as you cross the space and drop back onto your bed, staying quiet. Dean sits so he’s facing you and asks again. “Why’d you do it?”

“Because I love you, you dumbass.”

“You-” his brow furrowed as he watched you, you were looking down at your hands like you were afraid to look at him. “How does that even make sense? Why didn’t you just say something?”

“I did.. I tried.” you were picking at the skin around your nail. “But you didn’t seem to notice. You were meeting girls at bars, at diners, and then you started with the app.. You had more dates, spent more and more time on your phone.. I can’t compete with that, Dean. I got jealous, I got upset. I made that first profile not thinking I’d actually get anywhere, but then I did, you saw me, you talked to me like you talked to them and I got lost in that feeling, it felt so good to finally be seen. But then you wanted to meet. And I got scared. Scared that you’d be disappointed it was just me, but I couldn’t bring myself to say no to you, I never could.”

“So you said yes and didn’t show?”

You nodded. “And you were upset, and I felt bad. But I wanted that feeling again, I wanted more than anything to be anyone but me just so you’d see me again. So I became someone else. Always someone else. Catfishing you seemed to be the only way to get your attention. You liked me, Dean. Each and every time it was me and you seemed to like me, but when I acted like that with you, face to face.” you shrugged and finally looked up again. “Sometimes even saying the exact same things, I got nowhere. I was your wingman, I was your friend, but you couldn’t see me beyond that, and I should have just accepted it. I should have respected that I was nothing more and this was one sided and just moved on. I realize that now, and I’m sorry."

Dean was watching you, taking it all in. Processing. He could see the guilt all over your face, the tears stinging your eyes, he knew you meant that apology more than anything. To be honest, he’d forgiven you months ago, but now he had answers to process.

“I’m sorry I fucked up.” you continued. “I’m sorry I fucked up our friendship. I regret it, I regret all of it. I miss you, I miss having a best friend, I miss having a home.” the tears started running down your cheeks and Dean reached out to wipe them away.

“Then come home.”

“I can’t. It can’t go back to the way it was. I can’t just sit there, and watch you with someone else, or-”

Dean cut you off, pressing his lips gently to yours before pulling back again. “Come home. I miss you too.”

“I hurt you..” you whispered.

“Yeah, you did.” he agreed. “We’ll figure it out. Because you’re right, I did like you. I loved our late night chats, I love how dirty you get in DMs, and I miss my closest friend by my side. Come home with me.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” he smiled. “Don’t ghost me this time.”

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging : Dean - @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @evyiione @karikatz12481 @idksupernatural

SPN - @sandlee44 @just-another-busy-fangirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @deanandsamsbitch @deans-baby-momma @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh @ksgeekgirl @hobby27 @maddiepants @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn @fandom-princess-forevermore @kalesrebellion @deanwanddamons

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin @rebelminxy @foxyjwls007 @onethirstyunicorn @shaelyn102 @supernaturalenchanted @kazkingdom @babypink224221 @emoryhemsworth @ilovefanfic86 @pie-with-hunters @deanmonandnegansbitch @lazinessisalliknow @feelmyroarrrr @letsdisneythings @cdwmtjb8 @notyourtypicalrose @xostephanie @marvelmenmusicandroses @ilovedeanspie @defenderrosetyler @amandamdiehl

#fluff bingo #online dating square #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean #dean fic #dean winchester #reader insert #spn #spn fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #sam #sam winchester

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years

Text

i just wanna be with you

ole miss rafe x reader

freak snowstorm in your hometown keeps you trapped in the airport

future fic!!!

(warnings: cursing, no editing)

It hardly ever snowed in your hometown, like you couldn’t even remember the last time there was a white Christmas, you were that young. So of course, the year you and Rafe decided to fly there for Christmas, it snowed. Hard.

The flight was early on Christmas Day, you and Rafe left your apartment at 3 a.m. to get to the Jackson airport and through the busy airport for your flight at 6:30. He made the coffee and you loaded the car, both sleepy.

Rafe picked the music, playing his hype playlist softly to stay awake while you dozed in and out of sleep in the passenger seat. There was no one on the road until you got closer to the airport.

“Babe,” he called out softly, “almost there.”

You picked your head up and saw the parking garages coming up in the distance, so you sat up and started putting your shoes back on and gathering your stuff. When he parked and got a tag, you followed after him carrying your duffle bag in one hand, his hand clasped in your other.

He’d made good time, and the airport was still fairly quiet. Your gate was far from the entrance you’d parked near, so the two of you speedwalked, still sipping the to-go cups of coffee Rafe made at home.

You’d just made it to security when you drank the last bit, and both of you threw the cups away before walking through. They let you through pretty quickly, and you were back on your way, this time him carrying both duffle bags while you handled the booksacks.

“You know,” Rafe spoke for the first time since getting out of the car, “I haven’t been at an airport in years.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I thought your family was rich. Even with a private plane you need an airport right?”

“Ward has an airstrip.”

“Holy shit.”

He laughed humorlessly, “Yeah.”

“Well, my parents usually drive, but I kinda hate it. I’d much rather just fly.”

“How long is the drive?” he asked.

“Seven hours.”

“Jesus Christ,” he whistled lowly, “they drive it every time?”

“My father prefers it.”

Rafe snorted, “Not for me.”

“Me neither.”

By the time the two of you reached your gate, there were a few people sitting around, phones and laptops plugged into various outlets. Rafe glanced around before finding two chairs alone and nodded, “Wanna sit over there?”

“Sure.”

He led you over and you leaned onto his shoulder. You could hear the smile in his voice when he asked, “Gonna take a nap?”

“Maybe.”

“You have about 45 minutes until it’s time to go.”

“Wake me up in 30,” you mumbled, breathing evening out.

It couldn’t have been 30 minutes when he shook you awake. Blinking at him, confused, glanced at your watch. He was frowning, “Flight’s delayed.”

“Huh?”

“It’s snowing at the other airport pretty bad. And it’s supposed to be just as bad when we land.”

“Did they say when we could go?”

“It’s supposed to clear up after like an hour and a half or so.”

“So we’re delayed that long?”

He sighed and nodded, “I’m afraid so, sorry sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, nothing we can do. I’ll call my mom.”

Rafe frowned, “Want me to? Since it’s technically my fault.”

“What? You control the weather now? Kinda sick.”

“No,” he laughed softly, “we had to wait so long so that I could finish at work.”

“Rafe, there literally hasn’t been snow there in years. There was no way you could’ve predicted this, surely you don’t actually think you’re at fault.”

With an embarrassed shrug, you realized that he actually did. Before you could say anything, he told you, “You were ready to leave like a week ago. You should’ve just gone.”

“To leave you to fly alone when I know you don’t like it the most.”

“I’m a big boy.”

“I know,” you sassed, “but I want to be there for you.”

“Well,” he paused, “you are. And I’m sorry this isn’t working out.”

You shrugged, “Shit happens. Guess it isn’t meant to be.”

He suddenly looked determined, “It is. We’ll get there even if we have to change flights and rent a car and drive.”

“Babe, neither of us knows how to drive in snow,” you reminded him with a laugh.

“We’ll figure it out,” he told you, standing to go to the ticket counter. Before he could walk away, you grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back with a laugh.

“I promise it’s okay. Even if we spend most of Christmas at this stupid airport, at least I’m spending it with you.”

“That’s,” he sighed, “like I’m glad you aren’t mad at me, but that’s not fair to you.”

“To us,” you corrected, “you’re also missing Christmas with your family.”

Rafe’s eyes widened and his lips pressed together. You weren’t entirely sure what emotions were crossing his face, but they looked good. Complicated, but positive.

You let him work through it quietly, holding his hand, and eventually, he spoke up, “I guess you’re right.”

“No need to guess,” you told him cheerfully, dialing your mom’s number. She didn’t answer.

There was no progress an hour later, and you were starting to wake up finally. Rafe, on the other hand, was fading fast. His head kept drooping, falling onto your shoulder before jerking back up.

You reached up to run a hand through his hair and he pushed into it. With a smile, you scratched his scalp and he sighed quietly, eyes shutting fully. Finals week and grading had tired your poor boyfriend out completely, so you deep down hoped the flight would stay delayed so he could get some sleep.

He slept for an hour and a half, no progress made, though the gate across from you had emptied and filled twice in the time yours had stayed packed. There were people stretched out across the floor, and the flight attendants were even starting to look a little squirmy.

Rafe jolted up, forehead clipping your chin, and hissed, rubbing over his forehead with a confused look on his face. You laughed, holding your chin, “Good morning, handsome.”

“Hey,” he answered, smiling sleepily.

“How was your nap?”

With a hum, he answered, “Good. What time is it?”

“9:00.”

His eyebrows shot up, “And we’re still not on a plane, huh?”

“We are not. Are you hungry?”

“Hmm,” he tapped his chin, “a little bit, yeah.”

“There’s a sandwich place a little bit down. If you’ll save seats I’ll go grab us each one?”

Rafe nodded and reached for his back pocket to get his wallet. You waved it away and he frowned, “Why not?”

“I can pay.”

“But I want to pay,” he argued.

Rolling your eyes, you bent down and kissed his forehead, “Let it be part of your Christmas gift.” And before he could answer, you were gone. The stand had breakfast sandwiches and coffee, so you bought two of each.

Rafe had stretched out when you left, his legs taking up your seat so no one would sit down. You snorted and he grinned, “Saved your seat.”

“You couldn’t have just put my booksack on it?”

“Someone could move the booksack, moving my legs is a lot more difficult.”

You hummed, playing along, “They are pretty hairy, I wouldn’t touch them either.”

Rafe smirked, “You sure about that?”

Shoving the sandwich in his face, you nudged his legs away and sat back down. Rafe took it and one of the coffees. The two of you started eating in silence until he made a noise to get your attention, “Did your mom ever call you back?”

“Nope,” you popped the p.

“So she thinks we’re in the air right now?”

“Most likely.”

“Rough. Hopefully she hears my message before dad drives to the airport to pick us up.”

Another hour passed, and your mom answered finally. She sounded frustrated, and you felt bad, but there wasn’t much you could do. Rafe also felt bad, he’d gone kinda quiet, and you felt extra bad.

“It’s going to be fine,” you reassured, squeezing his hand.

“We still have a four hour flight, babe.”

“Yeah, but we’re going back, it’s only like 8 there, so it’ll be fine!”

Rafe unclenched his jaw, “I guess you’re right.”

You shook your head, “What’s up with all this guessing today?”

He snorted, and pushed your head away, “Yeah yeah, leave me alone.”

Right as you started to respond, a very relieved-sounding flight attendant announced that the plane was ready to board. Rafe hopped up and held his hand out to help you up. He grabbed both of your bags, “If you go throw the trash away, I’ll go get in line.”

Texting your mom that the plane was finally boarding, you threw the cups and wrappers away before joining Rafe in line. Even when the plane was full, they still didn’t have a takeoff time, so you settled in, looking out the window next to you.

Rafe sighed and you turned, “What’s up now?”

“This is all going wrong.”

“I mean it’s not that big of a deal.”

Shutting his eyes, he told you, “It is. I had plans.”

“Plans?”

“Yes.”

You waited a few seconds for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, you nudged him with your elbow, “Plans?”

“I said yes.”

He was smirking, and you rolled your eyes with a huff, “Stop messing with me, Cameron.”

“Never.”

“Bro,” you groaned, “why can’t you just tell me.”

“Bro, I’m not ruining this for myself.”

“Ruining what?”

He shrugged, “Christmas.”

“Ah yes, Rafe Cameron who notoriously controls the weather, ruins Christmas for us all.”

Rolling his eyes, Rafe chose not to respond, and pulled a book out of his booksack.

“Oh are you ignoring me now?” you asked, poking him.

“Until the caffeine wears off, I’m ignoring you.”

“Rude.”

“You’re rude.”

The lady on the other side of Rafe sighed loudly, ending your giggling and Rafe elbowing you. Biting your lip to hold in your laughs, you grabbed his hand when he tried to poke your side where you were ticklish.

“Asshole,” you whispered, holding his hand as tightly as possible while he fought against you.

“Me? Never,” he answered, shaking his hand free and poking you in the side.

You arched away, whacking your head on the wall next to you. With a groan, you rubbed your forehead, “Fucking ouch.”

He laughed, reaching forward to grab your head, “Watch it, don’t want to give yourself a concussion. Then you’ll be ruining Christmas too.”

“Neither of us are ruining Christmas.”

“Ruining my Christmas,” he responded cryptically.

You tried, “All I want for Christmas is you?”

“No, Mariah. You want to see your family.” You opened your mouth, and he cut you off, “And don’t say you’re my family, I know that, but the rest of your family.”

“Well,” you answered weakly, “as long as you know.”

“Was trying to make it more official,” he muttered, but you heard him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Something,” you argued back.

He mimed zipping his lips, and you sighed, “Fine, be that way.”

“I will.”

And before you could say anything else, the flight attendant came over the speaker and started the pre-flight spiel. You sighed in relief, sending your mom a quick text that you were finally about to take off.

By the time the plane took off, you’d forgotten about Rafe’s weird behavior. Happy to finally be flying and not sitting in an airport.

day 19 of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: delayed flight

#rafe cameron #college rafe #ole miss rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #outer banks #outer banks fic #obxmermaidholiday

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

EARLY BIRD

Angel Reyes x Reader

Anon asked: could you write an imagine with angel Reyes in which you think he’s gonna break up with you because he’s been distant with you.

Word Count: 1.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @starrynite7114 ✨

Author comments: I'm sorry it took me so long! I just needed some time away from my phone, 'cause I was feeling somewhat sick, but I'm back! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Another morning, waking up in an empty bed and the next side to yours totally cold. You snort turning your body above it, pulling your hair away from your forehead with a hand. There's any noise outside of the bedroom, the one you were supposed to share with Angel because, probably, he left the house stealthily some hours ago. You don't know what's going on. You don't know what's happening between you. And at any time you have tried to talk with him about it, he only says that everything is okay and you're just a little paranoid. You want to believe him. You really try with all your efforts, but there's a bunch of insecurities getting stuck inside your chest oppressing it, that doesn't let air through.

✉: “hey, early bird”

You haven't thought about it, grabbing your phone to know if he is still alive, leaving it on the pillow where your head is resting. Some minutes laters, when you're almost falling asleep again, the advice dings turning on the screen.

✉: “eh”

That's all. And he keeps saying that nothing has changed. For sure.

✉: “you free 2nig?”

✉: “i think so”

“y?”

✉: “we could have a night in”

“dinner and movie”

“hang out for beers”

✉: “am into first”

✉: “k! 7? 8?”

✉: “8 good”

✉: “k! ily”.

✉: “back”

You know he's not going to come, but at least you try it.

When the night is about to fall down plunging Santo Padre into the darkness of the desert, you begin to set up ready in case a miracle happens. Putting the steaks you bought at pops, in the pan with some oil and salt over low heat, you leave the kitchen to change your clothes. Wearing nothing but his favorite shirt, you spread on your neck and collarbone that fruity and fresh perfume he loves the most. And picking up your hair in a ponytail, you walk barefoot back to the kitchen. It's flooded by the delicious smell of the meat cooking slowly, turning them to the other side when it's getting golden. Leaving the food in the background, you go next to the freezer checking that the cold beers are ready to be drinked. You have popcorn, candies and chocolate for later. Everything is on point, even if you don't have much faith that he's going to come.

You weren't wrong.

At half past nine you're sitting on the couch, eating the cold steak you cooked and drinking the third beer. Angel didn't answer any of your messages, nor your calls. So, after trying to contact him for almost one hour, you decided to have dinner alone.

Another night.

The desire to cry floods you with leaps and bounds, grabbing the last piece from the fork in a bad mood before leaving the dish on the table and drinking your beer till it's empty. You fall asleep on the sofa some minutes after with your eyes filled with tears.

Although the door closes silently, you open your eyes getting up, stretching once you sit up. Angel looks like shit, tired and upset with his hair made a mess. Noticing sideways that the sun is almost shining, you don't say anything when he's about to apologize. Leaving him alone with the word in his mouth. You don't even pick up dinner stuff, going back to bed and throwing away the shirt you're on to wear yours. Covering your head with the blankets, you can hear Angel's heavy steps following to the bathroom to get locked in. The water running down the shower.

A fist hitting the marble.

And finally, a weary snort when the mattress sinks a little next to you.

“I was arrested.”

No words from you. He knows you're awake. Once your eyes are opened, it's impossible for you to fall asleep again.

“I really wanted to spend last night with you, mi amor.”

Nothing.

You don't even move.

“I'm so sorry.”

You try to get up, pulling away the blankets tired of hearing bullshit. Not understanding why he just doesn't tell you it's all over, assuming he doesn't because he hates loneliness and no matter how much he despises you, that you're going to come back once and again like a beaten dog faithful to its master. He never was like that, he just changed from nothing. From being the loveliest man to a ghost in your life. Angel grabs your wrist, stopping you from leaving him alone, but you can't look at his face.

You can't fall again.

“Stay, please.”

“I needed you to stay a lot of times, and you weren't even here.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, you already said that.”

With a heavy snort being spitted by your lips, you sit on the edge of the bed rubbing your face with both hands. Getting up and holding your phone in a hand, you guide your feet to the door looking for some coffee in the kitchen, to serve it inside a big mug.

“Emily is back and I am just trying to save EZ's ass. I didn't see I was abandoning you.”

Sounds like an explanation, but you don't really care. This hole between you two isn't going to get closed with some apologies and some kisses. He's going to have to make it up to you.

Hard.

“And when I’m saying I’m sorry, it's because I'm really sorry (Y/N).” He takes three steps closer towards you, with his hands keeping down inside the pockets of his short sweatpants. “I fucking love you. Nothing and nobody could change that. I swear on my mom.”

You have a sip of your coffee, closing your eyes when he names his mother for the first time in that way.

“Listen, I got to be back at the scrapyard in four hours. But this afternoon we're gonna go to a place.”

“Which place?”

“You'll see. And I know you're gonna like it.”

“But?”

There's always a ‘but’.

“But first I have to pick up a buddy, I promise him that he could stay with us”.

“What the fuck, Angel?!”

You're drowning in coughs, leaving the cup to hit your chest with a palm.

“(Y/N), trust me, okay? You will love him.”

“You're a fucking jerk.”

“Mi amor, listen.” He grabs your forearm, stopping you. “Trust me”.

“I can't fucking trust you. Not today. Not after telling me you were fucking arrested, and now telling me you're gonna bring a ‘buddy’ to our fucking house without asking me.”

“You're gonna regret those words this afternoon.”

“Yeah, but for that, you have to be here and you're not gonna come.”

Letting go yourself, you walk away from him. You can't believe this is truly happening, getting worse as the minutes go by.

Driving through the desert, you don't know where the hell you're going, hoping he's not bringing you to Vicki's place because one of the girls needs to hide. Even if he talked to you about a guy. Angel is giving you the directions you have to take, making your blood boil whenever you ask him about it and he just smirks at you with that kind of smile you would like to punch out.

And yes, it's a surprise when you reach Grace's kennel. Frowning at him as you stop your car, you try to keep calm.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Am I a fucking joke to you, Angel?”

“What?”

“I'm not gonna fucking bring a junkie to my house!”

“We're n— We're not he—”. He can't even talk, breaking into laughs stirring on his seat. “Step out of the car, mi amor.”

“No! You know what? We're fucking done! I can't! I can't handle it!”

You're getting so nervous you don't know what you are saying. Collapsing. Exploding. But seems like the oldest Reyes doesn't give a fuck if you are on the verge of an anxiety attack, when he takes off your seat belt before grabbing the keys of your car. Angel doesn't say anything, getting out of it and walking to your side. After opening your door, he holds your hand pushing you into him. And you just let him do what he wants with you.

“You ok?” Grace asks you somewhat confused and worried, looking at your pale face. Pursing your lips, you shrug your shoulders.

Seems like you're in shock, not understanding anything that is going on around you while your boyfriend guides your steps to the backyard of the kennel. You find a big black dog lying on the ground with a plastic cone covering his head from his neck and some bandages on his paws and his tail. Tail that he begins to move full of happiness walking with some difficulties close to Angel.

“See, buddy?! I told ya I was coming back for ya'!” Your boyfriend squats towards the dog to hug him, whilst the animal is crying a little, stirring and trying to lick his face.

“What? What's that?” You point at the dog with a finger.

“I was driving on my way back home, and I saw a fuckig shithead dragging him by the paws with a bike. I was arrested because he ended up unconscious”.

Pursing your lips, you can't help but cry slightly bending over the floor and stretching a hand on air, just wanting that he can smell you to see you don't want to hurt him. The dog brings his snout closer, sniffing your fingers for some seconds taking two steps next to you. His tail starts to move again, imagine that he's also smelling Angel's scent on your clothes.

“Hey, buddy. Nice to meet you”. Using a soft and low tone, the dog shortens the distance licking your face without expecting. That makes you laugh loudly.

“I know you feel alone when I’m riding and he doesn't have a home.” Angel says, waiting for you to finish spinning the matter by yourself. “See? I knew you were gonna regret your words.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You growl, drawing a smile to your new friend with his head rested on your chest, as you caress one of his sides.

“Is he okay?” Your boyfriend asks Grace, getting up as he does, being followed by the dog.

The women nods.

“He's strong. But I'll give you some pills for pain, in case he complains. And you should change the bandages every day. Bring him back next week and I'll check him.”

“Done. How much do I own you, sweetheart?”

“Nothing. Just take him to his new home.”

“Thank you, Grace.” You say before hugging her tightly.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” She said then, nodding at her.

“So, what's his name?” You ask Angel, walking back to the car with the dog practically glued to your legs.

“Caco”. He answers holding your hand, leaving a kiss on the back of it.

“So, I'm assuming the place where we’re going next is a pet shop, to buy him a lot of things.”

“Shit, mi amor, I got fucking horny every time you show me how smart you are.”

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes

290 notes · View notes

s-and-n-writes · 4 years

Text

another long day

crimson and bluebell: part two

summary:

Marinette Rossi is tired of everything: from Lila’s constant berating and Madame Rossi’s preferential care of her ‘angel-like’ daughter, to how everyone at school (even Alya) seems to believe her evil stepsister over her.

It’s like she’s Cinderella, except without the fairy godmother and the happy ending. She doesn’t even have a prince.

Or so she thinks.

Between the appearance of a new boy who seems to have captured her heart, and a gala run by her fashion idol Gabriel Agreste, Marinette hopes for an escape the constant ignorance, workload, and bullying she endures, and get a blissful life of her own.

With the help of one tiny god and a meow-velous partner, she might finally get a chance, but not everything is that simple.

They say ladybugs are lucky, so will being the elusive Ladybug bring Marinette the luck she oh-so-desperately needs?

quick links:

< previous chapter | first chapter | next chapter >

| miraculous masterlist | series masterlist |

a/n: so hi again, it’s me, n! im so so so sorry that i didn’t post for a long time, school caught up with me and everything’s getting v stressful these days. regardless, my new year’s resolution is to post more of these, and i’ll actively make an effort to do that hehe, in the meantime, enjoy!

also i’m appalled at the fact that this was 15 pages long and took more than a month to write how are you doing

Marinette had thought that the whole coffee spill, glass breaking fiasco would be relatively easy to clean.

She was wrong.

It takes her all of 10 minutes to clean up the glass, and another 20 minutes to try and clean up the coffee.

Key word: try.

Marinette ends up at school 30 minutes late, the coffee-stained carpet rolled off to the side at home, effectively ruined. She hasn’t even thought about the cracked glass table yet, which she hid by placing a tissue over top of it after Lila left.

Needless to say, all of this puts a little bit of a damper on her day.

As Marinette walks up the staircase of Francois Dupont, the school she goes to, she spots Alya Cesaire inside. Alya is Marinette’s closest friend, and despite having moved to Paris only a year ago, it feels like Marinette has known her for their entire lives.

“Girl, girl, girl…” Alya sighs as Marinette walks through the doors. It’s a free period, and students litter the area. Marinette spots Lila walking with one of her friends on the other side of the school, and luckily, Lila doesn’t see her.

There’s one good thing about school that Marinette adores: she doesn’t have to see Lila. Lila’s always had Madame Mendeleev for homeroom, and Marinette’s had Madame Bustier. Because of this, their schedules never interact, which allows Marinette to avoid Lila for the duration of the school day.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette pleads, running up to Alya and shrugging her backpack off her shoulder. “There was a coffee spill, and glass broke, and-OH GOD I MISSED THE MATH TEST!!!”

“Marinette, chill,” Alya laughs. “The math test got rescheduled, but Ms.Bustier is pretty mad about you being late,”

Marinette sighs. “That’s a relief,”

“But you still missed a lot of news~,” Alya says, singing the last word.

Alya aspires to be a journalist, so on the occasions that Marinette wasn’t late, Alya would give her anything and everything interesting she’d dug up that week.

"I know, I know," Marinette sighs, fingers loosely picking at her shirt again. The seams stay intact, but Marinette's mind doesn't. The coffee spill and the glass breaking is constantly on her mind; she's not sure what to do.

"Nice shirt, girl," Alya smiles, breaking Marinette away from her thoughts. Alya's good at that, and she notices when Marinette lets her mind wander, something that happens a little too often for her tastes. "Did you make it?"

Marinette bursts into a grin. "Yes! I used that gorgeous thread that Sabine bought last week for my birthday, you know, the one I kept talking about, and it was absolutely amazing! I had to make this! What do you think? Do you like it?"

The shirt is simple; a white base with flowers of varying sizes lining the edge. Marinette pairs it with her old, pink jeans (the fabric for the flowers on her shirt came from some leftover ones she had when making the jeans) and a dark-gray blazer that Lila used to own.

"It's beautiful," Alya smiles, "But hey, I’m more excited for you-know-who’s reaction,"

Marinette rolls her eyes, hiding her face as an involuntary blush rises to her face. "Alya! You know I don't like him like that!,"

Alya grins. "Just teasing,"

“Well, anyways, tell me what I missed during lunch, I’m off to the classroom, before Ms. Bustier comes looking for me,” Marinette smiles, turning and running up the stairs.

“Good luck, girl!” Alya says, waving goodbye and pulling out her phone.

The day passes quickly, and lunch comes sooner than Marinette expects.

She meets Alya outside of Francois Dupont, and they both head to Ville de Soirée, a cafe which isn’t nearly as expensive as the others in the area. They both order their usuals, and sit in one of the booths as they wait for their drinks.

Marinette sighs and leans back. “Ok, ok, tell me,”

Alya, who is most probably on the verge of exploding from her excitement, gears up. “Ok, so you know Nino, right?”

“You mean the boy you’ve been obsessing over since we met him?” Marinette teases. “Oh hey, I might have an inkling,”

Alya blushes, her cheeks tinting rouge. “Shut up,”

Marinette giggles. “Ok, go on,”

“Anyway, Nino texted me yesterday that his parents finally agreed, and he’ll be starting school starting Monday next week!”

“Ah! That’s so exciting! I’m so happy for you!” Marinette laughs. “Now you can actually make a move!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’ll let you play matchmaker when the time comes,” Alya laughs, “there’s also something else, and this one I know you’ll be even happier about,”

The barista interrupts Alya, placing two steaming drinks in front of them. They both reach for their drinks, with Marinette holding the cup in her hand and Alya taking a sip. She grins.

“Nino’s friend, you know, Adrien Agreste, is also coming too,”

She pulls back, looking smug as she tries to read Marinette’s face.

The girl in question sighs, shaking her head. “Who even is Adrien, and why does everyone keep mentioning him to me?”

Alya facepalms, groaning.

“Girl, sometimes I swear you live under a rock,” Alya sighs, shaking her head. “How do you not know who Adrien Agreste is? His ads are literally everywhere!”

Marinette pouts. “Well maybe I just haven’t seen him,”

Alya rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Ohh no, there’s no way you’ve missed him ,”

She pulls up her phone and momentarily scrolls as Marinette waits.

“Here,” she says, “That’s him,”

The photo on Alya’s screen is from last February, Marinette recognizes. She remembers how Lila bought a copy of the magazine it came in, although she wasn’t allowed to see it.

But the boy is familiar. His face is similar to someone’s, but Marinette can’t pinpoint who it—

Oh.

He’s Gabriel Agreste’s son.

Marinette leans back.

“That’s Monsieur Agreste’s son! I should’ve known, how could I have missed it when Madame Rossi told us about him?”

Alya squints her eyes. “Wait what?”

“There’s a fashion show that Adrien’s dad is hosting, and the embassy’s holding a huge event to greet all the fashion officials that are coming. Madame Rossi got us all passes to go,” Marinette says.

“That’s the one my mom’s cooking for! It’s next weekend right? She would not stop talking about it all weekend. I can try and score a pass, to you know, keep you company?”

Marinette gasps suddenly, burying her face in her hands, “Ah! I forgot! I won’t be able to go, since Li— I mean I, spilled coffee all over our new carpet,”

Alya raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, fine, I cracked some glass too,” Marinette sighs, face growing redder. “Madame Rossi’s gonna ground me for sure!”

Alya shakes her head. “Somehow I can believe it. You are the clumsiest person I know,”

She nods thoughtfully, fingers closing around the fox necklace on her neck. “Well I can’t deal with the whole glass situation, but maybe I can help with the coffee stuff? Happens to my mom all the time,”

Marinette perks up. “Really? Would you? Oh thank you Alya!”

Alya laughs. “No problem girl, I’ll come by after your shift at the bakery,”

Marinette pauses. After work would be...when Lila comes home.

Alya has always been a fan of Lila, but despite knowing Marinette, she’s only admired Marinette’s less-than-wonderful sister from afar. This means that so far, Marinette has managed to keep Alya and Lila separate.

Does she really want to risk that?

Weighing in the situation, she sighs. Would she rather have a shot at attending a potentially life-changing event, or safely escape Alya meeting Lila?

Knowing the both of them, Marinette remembers, they’d be a deadly combo.

But Marinette really wants to go to the event so, maybe this time, she might just give in.

“Great!” Marinette says, happiness laced with fear. “That’s...great!

Alya nods, smiling, watching as Marinette giggles.

“Now about setting you up with Nino…”

Alya turns away, blushing, “Marinette!”

Today

Lie-la 😒: sup loser

Lie-la 😒: im going to the mall with my friends after school

Lie-la 😒: if my mom comes in early

Lie-la 😒: you know what to say

Lie-la 😒: type, maribrat. use those lousy fingers.

You: yea, sure lila.

Lie-la 😒: good.

Marinette sighs and pockets her phone. For today, she is safe.

And that’s all she has ever wanted.

Marinette’s day ends with her feeling happier than when it began. Alya’s coming over to wash out the coffee stain, Lila won’t be there when she gets home, and she’s heading to her shift at the bakery!

It’s normal for work to not be exciting to most people, but for Marinette, it always is. Heading to the Dupain-Cheng bakery is always the highlight of her day, and working there is even better. The owners, Sabine and Tom, are like the parents she never had, what with them spoiling her with all the food they give and teaching her how to bake. Customers even tell Marinette all the time that she looks strikingly similar to Sabine, but she doesn’t see it.

In truth, she’s only ever even thought about becoming a designer because of the Dupain-Chengs, and if it weren’t for their motivation, she’s sure that she would be in a much different place right now.

But that’s not what Marinette worries about right now. Despite school ending early and the bakery being right across the street from where she is, she still manages to be late.

She exchanges a quick goodbye with Alya, who chuckles at her frazzled state, and dashes off towards work.

“I’m here!” she shouts, running into the bakery, the familiar jingle of the store’s door’s bell ringing in her ears. “Sorry!

Sabine laughs as she hands a box of pastries to a customer, waving as they leave. “Just on time. Hello Marinette,”

Marinette winces as Sabine holds out her apron. “Sorry again, Sabine!”

Tom laughs from the kitchen behind the store, the sound booming through the bakery. “Marinette!”

“Tom!” Marinette says back, her lips curving into a smile.

Sabine eyes Marinette as she ties the apron behind her, quickly joining the older woman behind the counter.

“So?” she asks. “What’s new with you?”

Marinette sighs. “Not much, not much...oh! Madame Rossi has an embassy gathering to welcome a couple of famous people into France. And not just any people, people who work in the fashion industry!”

Sabine nods, smiling at Marinette’s delight. “And why exactly are these people coming?”

“It’s for the Gabriel event. I don’t know when it is, but apparently Gabriel Agreste is holding a huge gala, something about searching for a fashion assistant?,”

Sabine perks up at fashion assistant. “Marinette, you should enter!”

Marinette gasps. “I couldn’t! There’s no way! I mean, my designs are barely adequate, let alone Agreste worthy!”

Sabine shakes her head. “Everyone knows that isn’t true. Don’t put yourself down like that!”

Marinette blushes. “Thanks Sabine,”

The woman smiles. “Well, anyways, are you allowed to go to the embassy event? It’s a great opportunity, you wouldn’t want to miss it,”

“I mean, Madame Rossi did invite me and Lila, but Lila spilled a bunch of coffee on the carpet, and cracked the dining table this morning. It’s all a stunt, she did it on purpose. She’s blaming it on me, which means I’ll get grounded, and I won’t be able to go, and you know there’s nothing I can do about that,”

Sabine sighs, placing a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “Oh dear. The next time I see Lila, I’ll tell Tom to get that girl and her mother arrested!”

Marinette laughs. “As much as I’d like that, where would I live?”

The rumble of the oven from behind the store dies down, and Tom walks into the main room. The room seems friendlier all at once, his large personality filling the space.

“Here, with us,” he declares proudly. “You’re like a daughter already,”

Marinette giggles, her cheeks growing red. “Alright guys, we’ll see,”

Sabine and Tom laugh as Marinette runs away to help a customer. Their afternoons with Marinette pass by quickly, and while they wish it was longer, you know what they say: time flies when you're having fun.

By the time Marinette gets off her shift, it’s 5:30 in the evening. Paris’s sky starts to fade from its normal cotton-candy blue to a marmalade orange. The hustle and bustle of the busy streets start to die down, and once she texts her address to Alya, Marinette makes her way to the bus stop.

While her time in the bakery is her favorite time of day, her time on the bus doesn’t prove to be too bad either. She likes the quiet silence, and enjoys her time away from the world around her.

The bus is probably her favorite mode of transportation (but her only one as well). When she volunteered to work at the bakery after school, Madame Rossi decided that ‘the streets were too dark at night for Marinette to walk alone’, and she was given a bus pass.

It was a small and random act of kindness that Marinette wouldn’t ever get again. It was also the only gift she ever got from her adopted mother, and despite not being too fond of Madame Rossi, she did treasure the gift.

Madame Rossi paid for her bus rides until Marinette was actually hired at the bakery. It was then that she decided to have Marinette pay her own bills, an action that most certainly helped Marinette for the future.

The sound of tires skidding against the pathway jolts Marinette out of her thoughts. She turns to see her normal bus waiting in front of her, and grabbing her bus pas, waits in line behind a couple others to get on.

That is, until she sees what’s about to happen.

Marinette watches as a man across the street tries to cross. He’s old, as his grayed hair and aged face tells, but his most identifiable quality is the red Hawaiian shirt he wears, embossed with a white hibiscus floral pattern.

Besides that, there’s also a car coming straight for him, and though it’s a little while away, there’s no doubt that he’ll get hit.

Marinette does the only thing she can think of. She runs.

The street is narrow, and Marinette manages to pull the man across the pathway before the car comes. She huffs, turning to the man to smile.

He has an odd look in his eyes, lips curved into a mysterious smile as Marinette quirks her eyebrow.

“Thank you, young lady,” he nods.

“You’re welcome!” she smiles, turning to look at the bus, which has started leaving. “Goodbye and stay safe, sir!”

The old man watches as Marinette just manages to catch the bus, stopping it and shouldering her backpack as she climbs on.

Marinette seats herself as the bus starts once more, and turns to her window to look for the old man.

But by the time she does, he’s gone.

Alya gets to Marinette's house at just the right time. When she reaches, Marinette has done a couple of her chores, cleaned up the living room, and put out the carpet in the first floor bathroom. Against the white rug, the coffee stain is obvious, and Marinette sighs as she inspects it.

How were they ever going to get it out?

There’s a knock at the front door, and Marinette knows it’s Alya. Smiling, the girl heads to the living room to open it.

Alya gasps as she sees the house. From the marble kitchen to the hickory-brown wood flooring, everything is pristine and clean, as if the Rossis live in a mansion.

(They don’t, but the house is still fairly big. Marinette sometimes has to clean it all as part of her chores, but luckily that hasn’t happened in a while.)

“Dang girl,” Alya sighs, “you rich or what?”

Marinette nervously laughs, cracking her knuckles. “Uh, I don’t know,”

“I’m joking,” Alya smiles. “But, random thing, where’s Lila?”

“She’s out. Doctor’s appointment for her, um, wrist,”

“Aw, that’s too bad. Tell her I said get better soon!”

Marinette sighs. She doesn’t like lying, but it’s far better than what would happen if she told the truth.

“Yea. Anyway, how are you getting the stain out? I tried all morning, but it was stuck,”

“Just watch me, girl,” Alya smirks. “Before we start though, you already blotted the stain,right?”

Marinette furrows her eyebrows. “Blotted? What do you mean?”

Alya demonstrates with her hands. “Like, did you take a paper towel and try to get as much of the stain out as you could?”

Marinette nods. “Yeah, that’s why I was late this morning,”

Alya nods. “Ok, so now we just have to make the cleaner,”

Marinette raises an eyebrow. “Make? This is getting a little crazy,”

“It’s really not,” Alya laughs, “I’ve done this a thousand times before. My sisters knock over my dad’s coffee way too much,”

Marinette laughs. “Alright then, show me what to do,”

Alya makes her way to the kitchen, filing through multiple cabinets. “Where’s your dish soap?”

“Bottom-left drawer next to the sink,” Marinette points.

“And your white vinegar?”

“Fridge. Anything else you need?”

“Just water,” Alya replies. “Warm, that is. And two cups of it,”

Marinette nods. “Got it,”

Alya takes out a steel bowl from one of the cabinets. “And can I use this?”

Marinette nods again. “Go ahead,”

“Great,” Alya says, pouring a spoon of dish soap followed by a spoon of vinegar. She waits for Marinette to get the water before adding that in as well, and then mixing. “That should do,”

“Work your magic then,” Marinette laughs.

“Just watch and see girl, I totally will,”

Alya finds a cleaning rag from a drawer in the island, and she runs over to the carpet. “Grab yourself a rag, Marinette, and let’s get started!”

Marinette laughs, and runs over to help. The time passes quickly, and by the time the coffee stain is gone and the carpet is dry, two hours have gone by. Their hands are sore and their legs are tired, but both can say that they had fun.

In the midst of it, Marinette almost doesn’t notice when Lila texts her.

Today

— 2 New Messages —

Lie-La 😒: open the back door

Lie-la 😒: im right by my house

Almost.

“Alya!” Marinette gasps, both sitting on the couch after the carpet was rolled back underneath the dining table. “It’s so late, don’t you have to go at 7?”

Alya tilts her head, confused. “No?”

“Oh well then I must have said it,” Marinette laughs nervously. “Yes that’s right! I’ve got work, haha. Bye!”

Marinette practically pushes Alya to the front door, while Alya looks lost and puzzled.

“Didn’t you already have work?” Alya asks.

“Yep, but gotta save up for uni right? Haha. Haha,”

Alya nods, squinting her eyes as she walks out the door.

“Um, bye? See you at school, girl,” Alya nods, quietly laughing.

“Bye!” Marinette smiles. Once Alya is farther away and out of sight, Marinette runs to open the back door. She can faintly hear the sounds of Lila’s friend’s car pulling into the driveway, so she dashes back upstairs as fast as she can. The last thing she wants to do is talk to Lila, much less be alone in a room with her.

She hopes that Lila won’t try anything while she’s in her room.

Sighing, she smiles when she stops at the attic door, and heads inside.

Before Madame Rossi found her and decided to take her in (how she came to that conclusion, Marinette would never know), the attic was all set to be Lila’s playroom. The entire room was painted pink from head to toe (even the carpet was a light shade of pink). There was a wooden wardrobe for all of Lila’s toys, and a desk with markers, painting supplies, and coloring pencils galore.

But then Marinette came along.

For one reason or another, she was given the attic as her own room. Out went the ideas of toys and tents in the room, and in came Marinette.

Madame Rossi didn’t give her anything. From the age of 2 till the age of 4, she slept on the ground, the lack of a bed present to her each night.

Until Lila outgrew her bed of course, which was then given to Marinette.

It was simple. Since Marinette was smaller than Lila, and slower at growing, she was often given Lila’s old things. All the clothes that Lila didn’t want, Marinette had. From her bed to the old beanbag in her room (one of the only things Lila gave her as decoration) everything was a hand me down from Lila herself.

Marinette sighs, and then flops into the bed. She’s lucky that Lila doesn’t bother if Marinette doesn’t get on her nerves.

Hopefully, until she can get out of this place, she’ll manage without angering Lila too much.

Standing up, Marinette locks herself in the attic, a faint click of the door behind her, and gets out her phone. Opening up Spotify, she starts her playlist, and goes over to the desk.

For the next hour, she does homework and finishes a project, all while sketching out designs for new dresses.

And hey, if she’s lucky, she might just be able to make one for the gala.

Marinette shuffles through her desk drawers, pop music playing through her earbuds. It’s nearly 8 PM and she’s searching for the special gold thread she had bought a couple weeks ago. It cost nearly a month's pay, and she’s been saving it for a special occasion.

With the dress she was sketching, she wanted to know if it was now.

She’s still searching through the drawers on the left side of the desk when she finds a box.

One that she feels might not have been there before.

(Then again, she rarely looks through all her drawers, so there’s always a chance that it could’ve been.)

Marinette feels confused. The box is made of a dark brown wood, and shaped like an octagon. The top of the box is embossed with a red design. Glimmering red circles meet wavy, thin lines, but Marinette is preoccupied with figuring out what the box is for.

In the end, she decides to open it. There can’t be much inside, can there?

Turns out, Marinette is wrong.

The moment she opens it is a frightful one. In that second, there’s a bright flash of light. It swirls around her as Marinette gasps, dropping the box onto the carpet as two solid-black earrings fall out.

That’s not the amazing part of it all though. After a second, Marinette comes face to face with a spotted red creature.

Needless to say, she screams.

“Hi Marinette!” the spotted creature says. “My name is Tikki! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Mouse!” Marinette hollers, “Bug! Bug-mouse! Talking bug mouse!”

Marinette scooches back, her hand grabbing books and papers off her desk as she throws them at Tikki.

“I’m here to help!” Tikki says, dodging the objects. “I’m here to help you!”

“Liar!” Marinette calls, searching for more things to throw. “This must be Lila’s version of a joke ! I can’t believe her!”

She takes her water-bottle from her backpack, and quickly moves to trap Tikki in it.

“It’s ok Marinette, I won’t hurt you,” Tikki smiles. “But if this makes you feel better, then this is ok!”

There’s a pause, and then Marinette sighs and chooses not to answer, leaning back, and quickly grabbing her school tablet off her desk. She points it at Tikki, trying her best to look intimidating.

“Who are you?” Marinette asks, “and what do you want?”

“Like I said, my name’s Tikki! I’m a kwami!” the tiny bug says, (still trapped in the bottle but floating in midair, Marinette notes) “And I want to help you!”

Marinette sighs, lowering her weapon tablet. “Did Lila send you somehow?”

Tikki furrows her forehead in place of her eyebrows. “No? Who’s Lila?”

Marinette bitterly chuckles, standing and throwing her arms into the air. “This. This. This is why you can’t help me. No one can. Anyone who meets Lila thinks she’s an ‘absolute angel’, and no one else knows her. How is someone supposed to help me if no one knows that my problem exists?!”

“Marinette,” Tikki sighs, “I promise you, I can help, if you’ll listen to me. Please let me explain, and then you can decide if you want to trust me or not, ok?”

Marinette pauses, considering the situation, and sits a fair distance away from Tikki, keeping her tablet in her hands.

“Ok,” she responds, facing the little bug. “But you have 5 minutes,”

Tikki smiles again. "And that's all I need,"

quick links: < previous chapter | first chapter | next chapter >

a/n: i resolve to post the next chapter soon lmaoo, thanks for reading! have an absolutely amazing day, you deserve it!

taglist:

i’ll be tagging the people that i had tagged before, along with a couple others who liked the previous chapter for this series. if you don’t want to get tagged, i’m very sorry! just shoot me a private message, and i’ll take you off the tags. if you do want to get tagged, just tell me with a private message or an ask and i’ll add you to the taglist. thank you!

@reddragonofemeraldflame @nomiegnome @18markers @katbab @emmathedestroyer @bluesesameseed @cyborgcandy @karukofox21 @aestheticnpoetic c @magnificentcrapposts @miraculouslylee @lonestarfangirl2014 @lambdaarietis @miraculous-twilight @miraculous-twilight @silver-twilight @emmarosemary11 @whiterosequeen23 @whatschooldoesntteachyou @shaykaleen @itswelphereiamuniverse @seraphichana @ladynoirotphell @tinynuggetofterror @tinkabella256 @coopermaggie

#ml #mlb #fanfic #marinette-dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #adrien agreste #adrienette #adrinette #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #lila rossi #lila rossi bashing #lila #lila exposed #lila rossi tag #marinette tag #crimson and bluebell

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Sex on the Beach - c. 06 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: You return to the vacation house to pack up your stuff.

A/N: I wrote this in like...45 minutes 😂 The re-write is complete...now for the last two chapters.

Holiday in the Sun Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

The room they gave you at the resort was nice, overlooking the waterpark and the ocean, twenty stories above the ground. Not as crisp white as the Nassau House had been but not quite a Hilton. You called your dad after you checked in to tell him that you had an argument with your mom and that was why you had charged the room to your allowance card, something he was perfectly okay with because that meant you liked him more for the moment.

“Divorced parents are something else.” You commented, flipping through the room service menu. You were starving, in part from not eating for an entire day, and were happy to be getting something that wasn’t dictated by your mom. “My dad was like ‘do you need more money?’...he always wants to be the favorite.”

“Ask him if he can get us our stuff back.” Rafe joked, emerging from the bathroom with the pair of shorts you’d bought in the giftshop on, they were gray and had an Atlantis emblem on the one corner.

“Did you try to get a hold of Sarah?” You asked, scooting over in bed as he sat down next to you. His hair was still wet from the shower and when he pushed it out of his face little droplets of water hit your shoulder and cheek.

“Yeah, she said ‘get your shit yourself’...real fucking helpful.” He grumbled.

“I mean, your dad is a nightmare. If I was her, I don’t know if I’d want to risk having him flip out either. Especially since they’re stuck there for the rest of the week.” You replied.

“So what’s your plan?”

“Ask Wheezie when they’re going to be out and stop by to get our stuff?” You suggested, “I still have the spare key you told me to hang on to. We could just go in and get our things and leave.”

“No, no.” He stood up and you watched as he paced for a moment before seeming to come to some sort of decision, “I’m not fucking hiding out from him.”

“You can’t just walk in there Rafe, he’ll be pissed!” You pointed out, “I really don’t think you should cause any more trouble-”

“The boat was his!”

“I’m not saying it was your fault but maybe just don’t provoke him.” You replied, “who knows what he’ll do.”

Rafe was silent for a moment and you almost thought he was starting to calm down, maybe come around to your side of the issue and realize what it was that he would be jeopardizing if he went back to the Nassau house and tried to have it out with his father. But a second later you jumped as his fist slammed against the dresser and he stormed back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. You weren’t sure what to say, how to ease the situation or make Rafe anything but angry at his dad.

“I’m gonna go down to the cafe, do you want anything,” you called through the bathroom door. You waited a minute for Rafe to answer but there was only silence from the other side of the door. “Rafe?”

“I don’t want anything.” He snapped.

The door to the room swung shut behind you and you walked down the long hall to the elevators. There was a little mini lobby, a room with ice and vending machines, two benches and a wall of mirrors that reflected back your exhausted appearance. You sat down on one and pulled your phone out of your pocket, calling your mom.

“Where the hell are you?” She practically screeched through the phone and you rolled your eyes. Not the supportiveness that you were unrealistically hoping for but maybe you could mold her into someone half willing to understand.

“I’m at Atlantis with Rafe, I’m using dad’s allowance money for a room.”

“That’s just like your father, swooping in to “help” as if you’re in trouble.” She bitched.

“We need our stuff-”

“You are not staying with some boy unsupervised-”

You cut her off, “mom. We need our stuff,” you repeated, hoping that she would be more moldable to your cause. “Is there a time we could come get it?”

“Exactly what do you expect me to do? Pack up your things for you and have them waiting by the door? You are serious trouble young lady! You stole someone’s boat. And what’s more? You were rude and disrespectful and ungrateful to Mr. Cameron.” She complained.

“I’m not staying in that house for the rest of vacation, pretending everything is okay. And Rafe’s not coming back either. So can we get our stuff or not?” You asked.

“Being rebellious isn’t worth your future. You’re supposed to be thinking ahead. What about college?”

“That’s two years away.” You argued, “I already sent applications, I’ve applied for scholarships, nothing is changing about college. But I’m not spending the rest of my vacation in a house with a man who assaulted me!”

“Well maybe you can buy new stuff.” She replied, the line going dead immediately after. You listened to the click off and pulled your phone away from your ear to look at the home screen. She’d hung up on you, unsurprising but not the result you wanted.

You said you were going down to the cafe so you did, grabbing an iced coffee and heading back up to your room in hopes that Rafe had cooled down enough. When you reentered the room he was laying on the bed, sprawled on his stomach with his head turned toward the window. He didn’t move when you came in and you placed your coffee on the nightstand, climbing onto the bed and sitting cross-legged beside him.

“Are you awake?”

“Unfortunately.” He grumbled.

“I think you got sunburn,” you mentioned, eyeing the harsher red of his shoulders, “or is that still from the shower.”

He didn’t answer, only pushed his face further into the pillow. You reached a hand out, laying it flat on the middle of his back. When he didn’t move, but also didn’t seem to protest, you leaned over kissing the red on his shoulders and beginning to gently rub his back.

“I called my mom.”

“You have shitty news delivery skills.” He replied, shifting over so he laying on his back. You followed his movement with your hand, your fingers brushing over his abs as they tensed beneath your touch.

“She basically said ‘screw you and your stuff’. So I guess you were right, we’ll have to go there.” You replied, “though I still think going while Ward is there might not be the best idea ever.”

“I just don’t even wanna think about all that shit tonight.” Rafe huffed.

“Oh well, I can totally help with that.”

It was earlier the next morning that Sarah texted saying that she and Topper could pack up your stuff and Rafe’s and drop it at the resort. A feasible and preferred plan to Rafe’s, going back in that house and provoking his dad would do nothing positive for their relationship or for the vacation. You knew Rafe was pissed and that he would likely stay pissed until he confronted his father but you urged him not to go to that Nassau house. Though your urging proved in vain because his promise to take you to dinner soon turned into a drive down the road to his family house, the two rentals in the driveway signaling that everyone was home.

“Rafe!” You practically hissed as you jumped out of the car, following him to the door, “what the fuck are you doing?”

The sentiment was repeated by Ward as the two of you entered the house, everyone sitting at the table for dinner looking up in shock at the sight of the two of you. You wanted to run back outside and drive away, or sink into the floor and disappear.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Getting my stuff.” Rafe replied, already heading for the hallway while you just waited by the door, frozen, “don’t mind me though, keep having your nice family dinner.”

Ward was quick. He made it around the table and put himself between Rafe and the hallway leading to your rooms, blocking his son from getting to them. You weren’t sure what to do. In favor of not making eye contact with your mom or step-dad you had locked eyes with Topper, who was mouthing a ‘what is he doing’ to you as if you were any more clued in to the situation than anyone else. Was this what you wanted? To be the supportive backbone for someone that you barely knew because you had been crushing on him since you were thirteen and he paid you just the slightest bit of attention on a vacation that would’ve otherwise been hell. What was your motivation? That you liked him...that he liked you and that was just everything you’d ever wanted so you desperately were following him around.

“Get out of my way!” Rafe’s voice pulled you back and you looked over at him and Ward.

“I don’t hear from you for two days, no idea where either of you are...we’re all worried sick, and this is how you treat us? Show up here and waltz in like nothing is wrong, demanding your things?” Ward snapped.

“I called my mom after we checked in...I’m sure she let everyone know where we were.” You replied, “not to mention, you sitting down to eat doesn’t look like you’re too broken up about any of this.”

“You ungrateful bitch-”

“Hey!” Rafe cut his dad off, shoving him just enough that Ward stumbled back. You felt your whole body tense. You needed to get out of this room and this house and, preferably, off this island. This was nuts, this wasn’t permanent. “Don’t talk to her.”

He pushed passed Ward, knocking his shoulder with his dad’s as he headed down the hall toward his bedroom. You knew that you should follow but your feet felt glued to the spot, like you weren’t sure how to make them work anymore. Sarah got up from the table without warning and disappeared down the hall, coming back a moment later with your duffel and suitcase.

“I already packed them yesterday.” She said, passing them to you.

“Thanks.”

Before Sarah could say anything else the shouting from Rafe’s room got louder. Worried, you left your bags by the door and headed into the hallway to see what was going on. Rafe was at the door of his room, completely red-faced, mid-screaming at Ward, louder now that you were standing there, and very much close to tears. Ward was shouting at the same time and even in the room you felt like you could barely make sense of what was being said. It was like walking into something that you had no right to witness.

“Rafe,” you weren’t sure he heard you over the screaming but you placed your hand on his back and it seemed to bring him back into reality as he looked back at you, breathing heavy and labored.

“I swear to god Rafe, you walk out that door and there isn’t a place for you at home.” Ward threatened.

He paused and you almost expected him to turn and apologize or call the whole thing off and decide to stay here. Miserable, sure, but at least he wouldn’t be homeless. But instead he grabbed his stuff and walked out the door passed you.

“Happy?” Ward asked, gaze meeting yours across the room. You heard Rafe call your name from the living room and you looked toward the sound before glancing back at Ward. If you lied, you were sure he could tell. So instead, you said nothing, grabbing your luggage and heading for the door.

You knew you should’ve been happy, in a way. Rafe was basically choosing you over his family and wasn’t that some kind of oddly romantic thing? Except all you felt was a pit in your stomach, eating up whatever feelings you had other than dread, leaving you feeling empty. He was walking away from his dad and his home and you weren’t even sure how you actually felt about him.

Wheezie followed both of you out to the car and you put your bags in while Rafe swore to her that nothing bad was going to happen. “Dad and I just need time to cool off,” he promised.

“But you said we would spend vacation together!” She insisted. He had promised her, before they even left the OBX.

“And we will. I’m not breaking that promise okay?” He hugged her and then walked around the car, getting in the driver’s seat.

You got in the car, trying to ignore the glare that she sent your way. Just when you were starting to gain favor with Wheezie you’d fucked it up again by taking her brother from her. You wanted to apologize and, honestly, you wanted to be in Provincetown with your friends. A nice, drama free vacation...not this mess.

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