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adamfoolcry · 4 years ago

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i hate you, i love you (k.dy)

it's valentine's day and you try your hardest not to fall back in the arms of one kim doyoung - your former boss, recluse and closed off, your fuck buddy - whom you are completely in love with.

pairings: CEO!Doyoung x Fem!Reader, Johnny x Fem!Reader rating: 18+ genre: angst and smut warnings: swearing, explicit sexual situations - hate sex, dirty talk wc: 3k+ prompt: 'i hate you'

a/n: This is a part of Candy Hearts Collab hosted by @127-mile . Text in blockquote are text messages.Thank you for beta reading simmi(@sly-merlin ) and indi(@ncteaxhoe). Not proofread excuse the mistakes please contact me if you would like to do so. Enjoy! - xo aria

Doyoung:

I don't know if you'll even read this but if you do, I want you to know that what we have for two years was not a game for me. Maybe we can't start being honest with each other. When you make up your mind you know where to reach me.

Mina really knows how to dress you up to the nines, you'll give her that.

"It's not bad," you nod at your reflection approvingly as you examine the dress you wrestled yourself in, clinging to your body in the right places effectively enhancing your silhouette. The soft silky texture of satin feels exquisite against your skin however you can’t exude the confidence the dress might have channeled you with. You don’t feel grand in fact you feel the opposite;

You want to cancel the date.

"Oh for christ's sake, ______. Maybe try to put some enthusiasm into this," Mina spun you around to face her, your back to the whole body mirror where a while ago you two were examining the outfit she picked up from the back of your closet - where dressier clothing of yours reside not seeing the light of the day unless for special occasions.

Placing both her hands on your shoulders, "You were so excited when you called me to pick something to wear. What happened?" She further inquired.

You heave a sigh, "I don't know I am just not in a mood to go out on a date with a stranger," you admitted.

Mina pulls your eyes back to hers, gleaming with determination. "You are ______, an economics major who graduated on top of her class, who landed a new job as a senior financial analyst despite being in the industry for only three years. Now repeat it," Mina orders you.

"What does it have to do with -" you rolled your eyes, and whined dramatically.

She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth in displeasure, "Go on say it"

"I am ______, graduated on the top of my class and landed a new position as a senior financial analyst despite my tenurity," you mumble in a low voice.

"Good," Mina coddled you as if you are an infant who uttered her first word, "now add I am young, smart, and men want me."

You open your mouth to protest but Mina only pinned you with a hard look and you know you will not be getting out of this until you do as she says.

"I am young, smart, and men want me." You did as she told you.

Begrudgingly you did feel a lot better.

This is the third step of banishing Kim Doyoung in your life entirely.

First is to send a resignation letter - done.

Second, secure a new employment - done.

Third is to pursue a romantic relationship.

"Now let's get you ready for your date." Mina pulled you to the present, squeezing your bare shoulders to comfort you.

"I know that what you did is really hard. The sudden big change and all but today's Valentine's day you need to have a little fun today."

"I know Mina, now do my makeup." You pulled her to where your vanity table is located as you paste a smile on your face in order to placate her worries.

--------

If people were to know why you are doing this they might have called you silly.

After graduating from university you were offered the position of financial analyst in his company - a small but budding start up in Tech. Never would you have expected to land a job in your chosen field straight out of college. You are doing what you have envisioned yourself doing: analysing the trends and forecasting sales of the company's cloud solutions. You are comfortable with your current living situation, not what you have imagined after your parents cut you off no longer sending you an allowance. You thought you'd be working your ass off to make ends meet. Thankfully, the pay was high enough for you to live in an apartment in the city, pay your bills in time, and afford luxuries you knew that most people your age wouldn't have the money for.

Everything seems perfect right? A job that you genuinely love, good pay, living in the heart of the city but of course you just have to develop feelings for your boss: Kim Doyoung. And that complicates everything; enough for you to decide to completely start over again.

Kim Doyoung has managed to worm into every nook and cranny of your life.

Kim Doyoung is a magnetic man, of few words, stern straight brows, and wide shoulders swaddled in elegant suits. He runs the company based on data-driven decisions unafraid of taking risks that produces the highest profitable outcome. Working at his company where all ten workers directly reports and closely works with him, you and your colleagues have developed quite a personal relationship with him. It was not conventional per se but you guess this is how all start-ups operate with a slightly different work culture. Unlike big corporations there is no bureaucracy, filling for leaves can just be a phone call or a visit to his office.

As his only financial analyst almost never leaving his side. You'd like to think that Doyoung might have developed a soft spot for you, maybe not in a romantic sense but in a platonic friendly way. He values your opinion enough that he asks for your input in any pivotal decisions either in work or his personal life. Whether to facilitate the migration to cloud as external contractors of big corporations or to oversee the renovation of his penthouse. And in small things too honestly, after all he asked for your help to decide whether the decor should be a Bohemian vibe or modern minimalistic black and grey.

That was until you fucked after the in-office celebration of closing a big contract. One moment he is talking about the vase that serves as a centerpiece of his dining table that you helped him pick, the next he was pulling your arm leading you to a dimly lit room.

Yes, you did drink but you were sober enough to protest if you didn't want it; who are you kidding? Of course you wanted it to happen. Not one word of objection was uttered as he pinned you to the wall with your legs circling his waist. Instead of protests what left your lips was series of moans and his name in breathless pleas that he had to stuff your mouth with his fingers or else your colleagues will hear the two of you having sex two rooms away from them.

Doyoung slipped out of you stepping back to let you down.Your stilettos made a clicking noise as it came in contact with the tiled floor that echoed in your eardrums; deafening. Coming back down to earth and from your high is also the moment when you realized the mess you put yourself into by fucking Doyoung - your boss - in a storage room.

You righted both your disheveled appearances - to look as normal as possible - in order to go back to the pantry where the celebration was still in full swing. The tense silence that wrapped the atmosphere makes you want to shrivel in shame, both of you were aware of the line that you have crossed.

The unspoken words were hanging in the air -

It was a mistake. Let's forget this ever happened. - and you refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room, the stillness making you uncomfortable by the second.

"_______ -," Doyoung started.

"We don't have to talk about it Doyoung."

You moved for the door, not looking back to peek at Doyoung's expression. You just wanted to get out of the dusty storage room, the stuffy air and Doyoung's proximity, suffocating you.

You thought you were smart enough not to make the same mistake again but you seem to have a penchant for getting hurt because you did it again and again every chance you got. When the effects of orgasm are wearing off and you are left naked and vulnerable you always find yourself swearing that it will be the last time but you already knew you were lying.

You just can't get enough of Doyoung even though it hurts to pretend that each encounter was meaningless.

Sleeping with someone where you never knew where you stand at is excruciatingly painful.

You can't be jealous when you hear about the new girl he's with because you have no right.

It is painful when Doyoung gives you some false hope. Visiting you almost everyday in your small office bearing lunch for the two of you. He often spends half of his day loitering in your space, perching himself on the corner of your desk pushing around the knick knacks around your desk while you are busy with work.

Only to dash it when he tells you about the latest girl he's seeing which would mean your ears would bear the brunt of his relationship woes until it falls apart only for the vicious cycle to repeat again when he found himself in another one of his flings.

Everyday as he asks for relationship advice you feel yourself getting worn out and the green eyed monster roaring it's head, you try your hardest to tamp it down with your rational thinking.

What hurts the most is he started his series of flings a week after you hooked up, rubbing on your face that it means nothing to him at all.

So after countless hours, days, and months of anguish you started planning your escape.

--------

There are so many thoughts running through your head it starts with: Did I overdress? Is Johnny having a good time?

Then drifts into completely unrelated manners.

Did I manage to say goodbye to all of my co-workers? Clear out my desk in my office? Surrender my elevator pass to the friendly security guard? Retrieve my favorite mug in the pantry?

Will everything be ok? Will I excel at my new company? Will I fit in a big corporation?

Will I miss Doyoung?

Am I doing the right thing?

Johnny cleared his throat which broke your reverie, your eyes settling in his face but Johnny seems to find the table napkin worthy of his attention rather than maintaining eye-contact with you.

"I had fun today but I think -," You see Johnny hesitating to continue his sentence, linking and unlinking his fingers instead.

You get it and you can't blame Johnny for his lack of interest. You were barely with him today after the small talk had died down and the two of you had finished your meals. You didn't make an effort to get to know him, the conversation was one sided as you barely threw the questions back at him; replying in terse short sentences as if you would rather be anywhere but having dinner with him.

"Yeah me too but it's really nice to spend Valentine's with you though and getting all dolled up. Makes me forget I am single," You joked and flashed him a smile; relieved, Johnny finally met your eyes as his actions mirror yours curving his lips into a smile.

-------

You hailed a cab for a ride back to your apartment, settling in the backseat you instructed and gave the address to the driver as his radio blasted cheesy romantic songs in your ear, making you feel more disappointed with how bad your date with Johnny went.

As the cab speeds through the city, the citylights intermingle with each other creating a spectrum of colors that bounce back at the cab’s windows, the scenery of skyscrapers blurring past your eyes and your mind returns back to musing which you know is a dangerous territory because somehow your mind always returns back to him.

Doyoung

What exactly did you want to be with Doyoung?

You want him to like you? No, You want to mean something to him, to be the special person he runs to whenever he's devastated, to be the first person he calls when he's completely utterly bursting with joy. You want him to be completely aware of your presence that even just a mere mention of your name will evoke something in him, make his heart beat a little faster and cause some flush to bleed through his cheeks.

You want him to be endeared with your habitual tics - how you drum your fingers in every surface when you are in deep thought, a line maring your forehead between your brows and make his lips itch to kiss it. You want him to be captivated with your idiosyncrasies and find it charming, you want him to adore everything about you that made you, distinctly you.

You want him to want you.

Your phone vibrated and interrupted your stupor and upon seeing Doyoung’s name attached to the notification. Your fingers quickly unlocked your phone, fingers ringing from an adrenaline rush just from the sight of his name.

Doyoung:

Come over?

And just like that you inform your cab driver to make a detour and drive to Doyoung’s instead.

Doyoung opened the gigantic door of his penthouse where he found you on the other side of the door, shifting your weight from foot to foot, nervous to be in the same perimeter as him. When the gap was big enough to see you his eyes roved over to your body and noted that you were dressed up nicely for a date. His eyes then turned into slits as he glared at you.

“Have fun with your date?” He questioned and you can see his jaw set - the muscles clenching tight.

You didn’t answer, you don’t want him to know the pathetic evening you spent with Johnny as your mind drifts to thoughts of him; instead of actively participating with Johnny’s effort of back and forth.

As if knowing that you wouldn’t answer, his arms went to grab your forearms pulling you inside and leading you to the stairs up his loft where his bed is, you followed meekly behind him. Reaching his loft you look around and try to commit to memory the layout of the room; promising yourself that this will be the last time you will set foot in this room.

Doyoung attached his lips to your neck which drew a soft moan from you, spurred by your sounds he continued to ravish your neck oscillating between harshly sucking and peppering soft kisses on the expanse of the skin of your neck. His hands running at your sides smoothly and gradually getting closer to the underside of your breasts with each pass, when he finally cupped your mounds you arch in his palms further pushing yourself closer to him, greedy for his attention from all the teasing that he has done.

When he spoke again it fanned over the nape of your neck making your skin tingle from the warmth, “Why can’t you understand that I am the only one who can make you feel this way.”

You can smell the residue of whisky on his breath and you wanted to taste it on your tongue even though from all the times you have slept with him you two have never kissed. You have drawn the line there for kissing is much more intimate than slapping bodies againsts each other for satisfaction. Kissing can be done without sexual notions but a simple act between couples and it is a glaring truth that you two were not.

You found yourself naked and sprawled on his queen size bed where you have lain your back many times but never spent a night in. Even the off white color of his ceiling is familiar to you as if mocking you for all the times you said you wouldn’t see it again. As he slips your dress down your body, your eyes water and it pooled in your eyes ready to spill over. ‘This is the last time,’ you tell yourself again, 'this is the last time that I will be Doyoung’s beck and call.' When he was finished trailing his lips down and also discarding his clothes at the other side of the bed you managed to swipe the tears that gathered in your eyes and look at him.

Towering over you he was a sight to behold and you trace the line of his body with your eyes, caressing the dips on his collarbones and the line that leads down to his cock as his face coil into a smirk smug with the knowledge that he can turn you into a whimpering mess.

“What do you want?” He asked while splaying his hands on your stomach, his thumb drawing circles on your clit which made your moans even louder and your pussy clench on nothing. You hate that he was the only one who can make you feel this way, reducing you into a pleading mess as you move your hips to the rhythm that he has set.

You don’t have to tell him your guttural whines already told him what you wanted and he obliged inserting his length into you slowly, while you gripped his sheets until your knuckles turned white. You loved the way he filled you and the burn that accompanies when he stretched your clamping muscles on him.

So you let all your reasoning go because Doyoung’s cock pumping inside you felt good, too good.

He knows your body like an instrument, putting the right pressure and hitting the spots that makes you throw your head back repeatedly. You can feel the falter in his quick thrusts and knows that he is near his end. Doyoung makes this one sound at the back of his throat when he orgasms … and you follow suit too as he falls apart.

It took a few seconds for him to untangle his legs and arms from your figure and it took you a couple of minutes of staring at the walls, waiting until you felt your legs can support you before you stood up and searched for your dress and undergarments. You can hear the rustle of the sheets as Doyoung sits on his bed watching your back as you slip on your panties and pull your dress back in its place.

“So tell me why did you leave the company?” Doyoung asked, his voice ringing loudly in your ears.

“I told you already I want to work in a big company,” You try to answer nonchalantly.

“Really? Or does it have something to do with me?

“Oh for fuck’s sake Doyoung. The world doesn’t revolve around you!” You shouted at him as you turned around to face him. Your ire rising as you see the cold stoic look on his face - unaffected by your outburst.

“Then why does it feel like you are running away from me?” He stood up from the bed and warily approached you as if you will lash at him any moment.

“I hate you,” (I love you) you whispered under your breath the words not meant from his ears but he heard it anyway. Disbelief painted his features he cannot grasp the reason why you are suddenly acting like this.

He reached out to touch your arm but you swerved his hand like a hurt animal nursing a wound and Doyoung then noticed your bloodshot eyes and defensive stance.

“Don’t touch me. Whatever destructive thing this is Doyoung, I am done. We’re done,” You stated bluntly your voice devoid of emotions a complete contrast with how you hugged yourself tightly with your arms.

“You don’t mean that,” Doyoung said adamantly as color drained from his face, making his pale complexion - paper white.

“You can’t just walk away,” He added more to convince himself than you because he can see that hard look in your eyes - already set in the decision of walking away from him.

“Watch me Doyoung,” your lips curved into a cruel bitter smile.

You leave him with those words as he watches your retreating figure until it completely disappears from his line of vision.

--------

That night when you received a text from Doyoung, you never bothered to open it, opting to delete it and completely block all communications with him. You need to move on and in order to do it you need to sever all ties that might delude you to come back in his arms again.

You need to escape from Kim Doyoung for it's been due too long.

a/n: Read more of my works for NCT here:masterlist

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igotbulletproof-insomnia · 3 years ago

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Adopting Bangtan 09

01 previous

AN UNLIKELY WEDDING

You bit your lip as you stared at your phone. You had an email from Jimin and Taehyung’s mother. Song Jieun was your old coworker who you had adored, but who also tricked you into taking care of her children so that she could get married without worry. Your respect and opinion of her had gone down significantly with that move, but you… didn’t exactly understand, but you did appreciate that she gave her children to someone who could properly take care of them instead of leaving them to fend for themselves which had seemed to be her original plan.

What’s wrong?” Seokjin looked up from the video game he was playing, ignoring the cut scene he had watched a dozen times before now to focus on you. You could hear the younger boys playing in their bedroom, the sounds of legos clattering and mouth-made explosions louder than what their closed bedroom door could block off. They were sounds that had become familiar in the past six months, sounds that used to be made by one child and were nowhere near this boisterous.

“Nothing,” you shrugged while you scrolled through the email a second time and tried to sort out your feelings. Seokjin’s stare burned into your cheek and rolled your eyes. “I mean it, nothing is wrong. Just…” You could feel your face twisting into a dissatisfied expression and tried to relax it back into something more neutral. There were times when you found you could rely on the eldest of your children, and times when you thought it was better to keep things to yourself, and you weren’t sure which one this was.

“Someone emailed me,” you hedge. “I’m just trying to decide how I feel.”

“That’s your worried face,” said Seokjin. “You only make that face about work and about us. But you also whine when you’re worried about work, so it’s about us, isn’t it? Which one of the kids is failing school?”

“No one is failing school,” you laugh. “Namjoon could be doing better, but I’m certain he just doesn’t care as much as his teachers want him to. Neither does Yoongi…. You know, as a teacher myself, I should probably be more concerned.”

“You’re appropriately concerned,” Seokjin reassured you. “Why should you worry about things you can’t control? You’re just going to age faster.”

“You’re going to stop calling me old one day.”

“Lying isn’t healthy,”

“Says the kid who lied his way into adoption.”

“I took advantage of my situation. That’s not lying, that’s cunning.”

“I didn’t raise you like this,” you say, standing.

“No, but that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? I’m raising myself, six kids, and my guardian. I can’t tell if I’m doing a piss poor job or not.”

“Language, Kim Seokjin!”

“Dinner, seonsaengnim!” he shouted back. The problem was, you aren’t sure if he successfully distracted you from your concerns or if you successfully distracted him from you.

===

Song Jieun’s email bothered you intermittently throughout the week. It’s not like you forgot she existed. You’ve received a hefty sum into your bank account every month for taking care of the boys, enough to make you wonder exactly why her new husband didn’t want to take care of them when he would probably be spending a lot less money if they were under his own roof. So no, Song Jieun wasn’t someone you forgot existed unlike like you could the rest of your kids’ parents, she just… wasn’t relevant. So it bothered you that she was trying to make herself relevant now, after six months of silence.

“You’re doing the thing again,” Seokjin poked your face. You startled, unaware that he had approached, but thankfully kept your coffee mug full. “What are you so worried about?”

“Nothing,” you say for the umpteenth time that week. “I’m not worried about anything.”

“You’ve been ‘not-worried’ since last Thursday,” Seokjin argued.

“So then why do you keep asking me what’s wrong?” You didn’t have to turn to see the weighted stare he gave you, you could feel it. That was the thing about your kids, all of them. They had a way of making you feel like you were the one in trouble, you were the one being raised instead of the other way around. Some days you were convinced that they were the ones keeping you around, explicitly for financial reasons.

“If you’re just going to insist on being stubborn,” Seokjin sighed. He poured two cups of coffee, one for himself and one for Yoongi, and turned the kettle on for Namjoon. The other boys would be zombie-walking their way into the kitchen for breakfast soon, so you and Seokjin set to work preparing leftovers from dinner a few nights ago.

“Song Jieun wants to visit the boys,” after a long, silent moment, you finally admit your concern. The kettle was puffing it’s pre-whistle warning, so you turned it off, sitting the pot on its wicker table mat until Namjoon made his way to the table.

“Who’s Song Jieun?” asked Seokjin. “Which boy? Not me, right?”

“No, of course not you, silly. You won’t even tell me your parents’ names. How am I supposed to know when they come to visit?”

“Trust me, they won’t,” Seokjin’s tone left no room for discussion, just a sad or regretful sort of resentment.

“If you say so,” you shrugged off your curiosity, familiar with how closed-off this kid got when it came to his home life before you. “Song Jieun is Taehyung’s mom and Jimin’s stepmom.”

“The coworker who tricked you into adopting them?”

“That’s what you got out of that?”

“Isn’t that what happened?”

“That’s besides the point,”

“That is the point.”

“What’s what point?” Namjoon shuffled into the kitchen.

“Our guardian is trying to decide if the twins should see their mother.” Seokjin answered.

“That’s not what I said,”

“That’s what you were going to say.”

“Everyone else gets nice, obedient, adoring children,” you grumbled. “I get sassy monsters who boss me around.”

“You raised us like this,” Namjoon said absently.

“I did not, you raised yourselves.”

“Same thing,” both boys speak in unison.

“I’m giving you two away.”

“Good luck living with Yoongi without us,” Seokjin shrugged. “You’ll be begging me to come back by the end of the week.”

“Joke’s on you, this is the end of the week.”

“My point still stands.”

“Okay, I quit, I won’t win this one,” you literally throw your hands in the air.”

“Good,” Jin grins at you in that cheeky way he’s mastered, taunting you.

“So what’s this about the twin’s mom though?” asked Namjoon. “I thought she…” he trailed off, but you understood what he was saying, or rather, what he didn’t want to say. I thought she didn’t want them.

“Yes and no,” you say. “She just… it’s… not exactly complicated, not if I were in her position, but… let’s just say, some people are stupid and not everyone has the same priorities.”

“Song Jieun chose to make herself happy over taking care of her kids?” Seokjin translated. “She didn’t want to take them to live with her new husband?”

“More or less,” You agree, taking note of the bitterness in his tone.

“You’re not allowed to get married,” Namjoon mumbled from the table.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not allowed to leave us or get rid of us because you want to be married,” Namjoon repeated. He’s obviously still half asleep from the way he lays his head down in his arms, but your heart clenches just a little bit from the casual desperation he speaks with.

“If I were to get married,” you said, “my future spouse would know that they come in eighth place anyway. I’m not getting rid of you, even your original parents would have to fight me. God will have to fight me.”

“But you’re still not allowed,” said Namjoon.

“Drink your tea, you’re talking crazy,” said Seokjin. “Our guardian will have to actually date first, and we all know that won’t happen.”

“The disrespect, I tell you!”

It’s after breakfast and during the chaos of getting seven young boys dressed and prepared for school when Seokjin knocks on your bedroom door frame, wearing an anxious expression.

“... Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“What’s up?” you asked. Seokjin walked fully into the room and closed the door.

“About… the twins? I… I don’t know what you’re thinking about, and that’s valid, but… I think you should maybe let them see her?” Seokjin didn’t fidget like the rest of the kids did. He leaned against the door, arms crossed and focused his eyes fully on you. It was moments like these when you realized exactly how mature your eldest was, and you recognized that most of it wasn’t because of you. Namjoon and Yoongi were you. Seokjin had probably been raising himself for longer than he’s lived with you.

“Okay,” you said.

“I just… if it was me, I would want to know that she still cared, right? And she does, I guess. You mentioned that she sends them money, and she wrote you a letter asking forgiveness, so that has to mean something. I just don’t want them feeling abandoned like the rest of us. Not if they don’t have to.”

“I’m just worried that it will confuse them even more,” you admitted. “It took weeks before Jimin would talk to us openly. Jieun-ssi isn’t going to stay. She’ll come for an afternoon or a day, take the kids out, spoil them, and then bring them back here, and they’ll both be wondering why. And I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“With the truth, obviously,” Seokjin rolled his eyes. “You’re always straight-forward with us. Why should this be any different?” Because they’re younger than you were. Because they were given away, not abandoned. Because their parent still cares from a distance. Because I don’t like making you all cry. Because picking up pieces has never been fun.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you said instead. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” Seokjin nodded, and you can see him visibly deflate, relieved to be finished with the conversation. “That’s all I wanted to say. Don’t forget to take your lunch with you.”

“Make sure all the kids have theirs,” you countered.

“It’s funny because you thought I didn’t already do that,”

“I love you, Kim Seokjin,” was your response.

“I love you too, I guess.”

=======

Your talk with Seokjin gave you a new perspective, but you still felt apprehensive about everything. You just didn’t like the idea of hurting Jimin and Taehyung any more than they already have been. What type of guardian would you be if you just let them walk back into heartbreak? What if this was just a one-time visit and Song Jieun never came to see her children again? What do you do when the boys ask to see her again? You had been lucky that you only had to have one conversation about not being able to take the boys to see their mother in the last six months, but if Jieun could make the time and the trip to come visit, then what will be your excuse now? What if this visit was actually a prelude to taking the boys back home with her?

Oh.

Huh.

So that was the real problem then. You didn’t want the boys to leave you. As much as you groaned and complained about taking in so many kids -- usually just to yourself, but sometimes your stress got the better of you in front of the kids -- you loved them. Each one of them, you loved and adored them and the thought of any of them leaving you or being taken away hurt. Not only that, but where in the hell would any of those parents get off, what right did any of them have to come to you and even fix their mouths to ask you for “their” kid back? You had words prepared for each and every so-called “parent” of all seven of your boys, copies of your lost child police reports, drafts of parental rights transfer papers, the phone number for several NCPA lawyers, and a fist just itching to make contact.

But what if Taehyung and Jimin preferred to be with Jieun anyway? She is their mother. She raised them for years, even if she was Jimin’s stepmother. You’ve only had the “twins” as you and the older boys had taken to calling them, for six months. Why would they want to stay with you?

“Okay, but she didn’t say she wants to take the kids,” you told yourself against the slew of depressing thoughts. You retrieved your phone from your pocket and opened your emails. Finally pressed reply. “She just wants to visit. A visit is… safe. It’ll be okay.”

Probably.

=======

Later that day you received a new email. Song Jieun will be in town that weekend. Tomorrow.

It took a lot of effort for you not to swear and make plans to take the kids out of town.

=======

Song Jieun was pretty. She wasn’t particularly tall or “skinny” like what TV liked to portray, but she was hippy and had a cute face and short hair that she curled most days. She favored dresses with blazers or oversized sweaters and skinny jeans, with pale makeup and dark pink lipsticks. It was easy to pick her out at the cafe she asked to meet at. She sat alone off to the side, a coffee already in front of her, but two plates with fruit-decorated cakes were also placed nearby. You considered telling her that the boys weren’t allowed any sweets right now. It wouldn’t have been a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. They weren’t allowed sweet things like cakes until after dinner and only when they behaved well. Still, you decided that was just your frustration and jealousy talking. You didn’t want to punish the two boys because of their mother, so you bite your tongue and hold your bitterness and let it go.

“Jieun-ssi,” you greet uselessly, as the moment Taehyung and JImin saw her they sprinted across the room to tackle the woman in hugs. Jieun’s smile stretched across her face and she cooed and made cute noises as she greeted her sons in return. You felt something creep in your chest that felt a lot like jealousy. But you weren’t jealous. You couldn’t be. You just hugged them this morning when they tried to tickle you awake. You held both of their hands from your house to the cafe. You had nothing to be jealous of, they were your kids now.

“How have you been?” Jieun asked when you sat down across from her. Jimin and Taehyung were already seated and digging into the cakes she bought for them. You barely had a chance to answer before your chatterbox was rattling off every activity he’s done for the last six months to his mother. Jimin grinned and threw in his two-cent’s worth every few minutes, but generally let Taehyung carry the conversation for him. And you, in spite of all of the emotions pressing on your chest and clouding your judgement and making you really, really want to shake Song Jieun, you enjoy yourself. You watch your boys -- your boys -- smile and chatter and sing and show off for their mother. You wonder if they’ll be okay going home, if you’ll have tears to clean up later, or arguments to break up, or just pieces to sort out and glue, but right now the kids are happy, and right now, that’s what you’ll enjoy.

=======

Taehyung climbed into your bed that night. He should have been asleep an hour ago at least, you’re sure, but he’s seemed to have a lot on his mind since this afternoon, and you’ve been letting the kid have his own space to figure out his thoughts. As hyper as he normally is, Taehyung is also prone to moments where he just sits and fiddles and thinks and you’ve learned that it doesn’t do any good to bother him about it.

“Can’t sleep?” Taehyung shook his head as he slid across the blankets to bury his face into your shirt. You curled an arm around his shoulders and held him close.

“Mommy…” Taehyung started and trailed off. “Is Mommy happy without me?”

It felt like your heart stopped with the words of his question, but you continued to brush his hair with your fingers. It was a difficult question to answer. You wanted to be honest, but you also didn’t want to hurt him. Unfortunately, there weren’t too many ways to answer without hurting Taehyung one way or another.

“What do you mean?” Taehyung was quiet for another short moment before he spoke again.

“Mommy… didn’t seem sad. And she said she’ll see us another time. And… she got married, but she didn’t want to keep me and Jiminie… So I started wondering… is she happy now? Happier than she was before when it was just me and her and Jiminie? Did we -- I don’t think -- I --” And the kid seemed to break then, all of the tears that hadn’t been shed for six months seeming to finally culminate into an emotional outburst. You shushed him, holding him just a little more tightly, and the fingers in his hair moved down to stroke his back. This was the thing you had wanted to avoid, and while part of you felt satisfied to be right, most of you just fought your own tears. It hurt to see one of your kids so hurt. You aren’t a stranger to crying children, but this emotional distress was something that never got better. You thought that maybe Jieun had talked to the boys beforehand, maybe Taehyung had dealt with his emotions before he came to live with you and that was why he seemed so well-adjusted. Clearly, Taehyung had just been living in denial, or maybe with the belief that his mother would come back for him “later,” that you were only a temporary home.

“This isn’t your fault, Taetae,” you murmured. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes… sometimes adults make hard decisions. We think we’re doing the right thing and… sometimes it’s hard to see if we’ve made the right choice or not.” You sighed, picking through your words super carefully. “I think… I think that your mother made what she thought was the best decision for both herself and for you and Jimin. She believed she would be happy with her new husband. But she did not believe you and Jiminie would be happy. So she put you somewhere that you could be. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, but I’m still sad,” Taehyung cried harder.

“I know,” you said, “and that’s okay. I would be sad too.”

“I just want my mommy back,”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to get married,” Taehyung said suddenly, long after his sobs had calmed down. Tears still fell, but slowly now. “I don’t want you to send me away too.”

“If you listen to your Jinnie-hyung, he says that won’t happen because I don’t date anyway.”

“Mommy didn’t date for a long time… and then she did. And then she got married.”

“I won’t get rid of you even if I did get married, Taetae,” you told him.

“You’re still not allowed to get married,” he argued. “Or date. You have to be mine forever and ever, okay?”

“No matter what, I will be yours forever and ever,” you agreed.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Taehyung asked. “I'm comfy and you make me not sad.”

“Of course,” you said. “You’re comfy like a teddy bear, I don’t want you to go.”

=======

In the morning, Taehyung was bouncing off the walls, screaming as he chased Jungkook around the house. Jimin was curled into a corner of the sofa, giggling while he watched his brothers play and encouraging Taehyung in his antics. You could hardly tell that Taehyung had an emotional breakdown the previous night. You knew he was far from being “over” his feelings about his mother, he was only eight and the feelings were complicated. But he was happy for now and that made you happy. You’ll deal with the noise and the chaos and shout at the kids yet again about running inside where things were breakable including themselves as long as they kept smiling.

Surprisingly, it was Namjoon who came knocking at your door after bedtime that night. Similar to Taehyung, he didn’t speak or ask permission, just closed the door behind him and slid into your bed. Buried himself beneath the blankets and stuck his head beneath the pillow and tucked his gangly limbs into a ball. You were familiar with these moods, but haven’t seen one in years, not since you took in Seokjin. So you finished the chapter you had been reading, turned off the light, and sank down to lay your head on your pillows. Similar to Taehyung, Namjoon would speak when he was ready, when he found the right words to use to express his feelings.

“You really won’t get married, right?” Namjoon whispered beneath the pillow next to you. His voice was heavily muffled, but you’d been waiting for him to speak for some time. You just didn’t expect for him to continue a joke conversation from several days ago.

“What’s wrong with me getting married?” you asked.

“If you get married, you’ll have to get rid of us.”

“There is no world where I will give up any of you just to get married, Namjoon.”

“But that’s what happens, isn’t it?” said Namjoon. “Adults… if they aren’t married, but they have kids… they get rid of them so that they can date. Because kids get in the way. Because it’s stupid to take care of other people’s kids.”

“Why does it sound like you just called me stupid?” Your sarcasm probably wasn’t appropriate for the moment, but the words slipped before you thought about it.

“We’re really lucky to have you, we know that,” said Namjoon. “But that just means --”

“Namjoon, I’m going to stop you right there,” you cut him off before he finishes. You remove the pillow from his face so that he can hear you clearly, and card your fingers through his hair. “I didn’t create any of you. I didn’t ask for any of you. But I have you. And I love you. I adore you. I will tear apart skies, drain oceans, and vanquish God if it will keep you all safe and happy, okay? If your parents ever come back for you, I will press charges against them and make it so that they can never look at you, let alone hurt you ever again, do you understand me, Kim Namjoon? You and Yoongi and Jungkook and Seokjin and Hoseok and Taehyung and Jimin, you’re all mine. You’re my kids, all seven of you, and I will be damned if any lover or spouse, or anything at all, comes between me and you. I don’t say that because it sounds good -- although seriously, you have to admit that this is one of my better speeches,” -- at that, Namjoon giggled, the noise muted and soft, but a win was a win -- “but I say these things because I mean them. I will put a brick in the hospital for you, Joonie.” You hesitate, but continue anyway. “If it weren’t for you, I may have left the country at the end of that year. Teaching is fun, but I wasn’t super happy before. But then you asked me to take you home and you were so cute that I got attached almost immediately. I didn’t want to take you to the police and have them send you to your parents. I liked having someone to come home to. I liked taking care of you. Most people go get a pet or a lover when they’re feeling lonely, but here’s me, collecting kids like you’re pokemon cards.”

“No one collects pokemon cards anymore,”

“What, is Yu-Gi-Oh back in style?”

“What even is that?”

“The coolest card game ever. Period.” Namjoon laughs again, and you feel accomplished.

“It’s not that cool if I’ve never heard of it,” Namjoon argues.

“Joonie. I love you. But even I know you aren’t the coolest among your classmates.”

“I’m the coolest out of all my friends!”

“I won’t argue about that. I’m also sure that in your group of friends, ‘coolest’ means ‘knows the biggest words and has the best grades.’”

“You’re just jealous,”

“Absolutely. I wish I knew as many words as you do. Imagine how much fun I’d have fussing at you kids in Smart People language!”

“Why are you like this?”

“Please, other kids wish they had someone as cool as me taking care of them.”

Namjoon cuddled closer to you in the bed, laying his head on your shoulder and gripping your pajama shirt. You spend a few minutes massaging his scalp, a soothing gesture for you just as much as it is for him. After a few minutes, you begin drifting off, believing Namjoon is on the verge of sleep as well.

“Are you really okay?” he asks. “With taking care of all of us? You don’t… want to go back home?”

“I am home, silly,” you flick the side of his head gently. “I love you. And even if I wanted to go back to my home country, don’t think I won’t take each one of you with me. I said you’re mine. I mean it.”

“Okay.”

And it’s not that you don’t believe him, but you know your kid. You know he internalizes things and finds convoluted ways to take blame for other peoples’ problems, including your own. You know it will be a while yet before he truly accepts and believes you when you say you want to keep him and enjoy taking care of him. But you also know that he wants to believe you and he’s trying. You idly wonder if you’ll have to have some sort of discussion in the morning, an announcement over breakfast that no children will be displaced in the event of an unlikely wedding. You dismiss the thought, deciding it was more likely to incite panic and give you a headache more than anything else.

To find more of my child-bangtan fics, select the "Collecting Strays" tag at the bottom of this page ^_^

#bts #bts fan fiction #bts scenarios #kim taehyung #bts v #kim seokjin #kim namjoon #bangtan #kid bts #bts army #cross posted on ao3 #wow I just realized #kim line #reader insert #darkbalance #collecting strays

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anaceciliadacosta-blog · 2 years ago

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Pet sitting as a Job

Pet sitting offers the best of both worlds for a single woman like me. I don’t have pets anymore, but I get to live as if I do and get paid to do it. Thanks to Rover and my previous experience as a dog groomer and doggy day care attendant, I have customers booking with me constantly and I charge above average rates. I am usually booked with a few jobs a month that are anywhere from a few days to a week or more. These jobs are booked well in advance and I actually have to take myself off the calendar for a few days or a week when I want to stay home and enjoy my own amenities for a bit.

Most of the homes I stay in are in upper middle class to wealthy neighborhoods. My favorite homes are the ones sitting in front of lakes, canals or the beach. I can honestly say that I have had mostly pleasant interactions with my customers and have a few repeat customers. There has only ever been one customer that was ever unhappy with my service. After that experience, I learned to ask more questions about home cameras such as if they expect to see me on it for most of the day or not. Cameras are okay, but it is creepy if people are studying you and text you to stay in front of the camera, only to complain that you didn’t spend enough time with their dog. It’s easy to spot those folks now so I’ve never run into that issue since. I trust my instincts about people now, and listen to my intuition if something feels off about a person and their home. Thankfully, I am sensitive to energy so I pick up on strange vibes with ease. If someone doesn’t want to trust me, I’d rather not be in their home.

Another tip I learned is never book last minute trips. People who don’t plan pet care ahead of time are the same people who tend to have untrained dogs. It makes sense doesn’t it? Irresponsible people will not make time to train their pets properly. The first and last time I booked a last minute pet sitting was for two large, high energy dogs in a high rise apartment with no living room furniture. Their dogs were reckless destroyers peeing and pooping everywhere. There was a mop in the corner that I had to change out every day since the dogs were not potty trained. When I arrived the first morning of the job, complimentary gifts of pee and poop were left on the balcony for me to clean since the owners didn’t want to take their own dogs out for a walk before departing to the airport. That certainly set the tone for that trip. Nasty doesn’t describe it. I lost my appetite and some weight since I didn’t want to eat there inhaling bleach and poop air. Definitely was not worth my time or money in that situation, but lesson learned. No more empathy for the last minute folks!

Another thing I learned to do is upcharge pet parents who want to hire you to watch a puppy. When you agree to a puppy, you agree to keep up their potty and behavior training. That’s a lot more work than a trained, well-behaved adult dog with leash manners. As cute as puppies are, they are also a lot of work. However, I won’t watch puppies anymore unless they are small dogs that the pet parent has given me permission to take with me everywhere. Then it’s worth it! A puppy sitting I completed just a few weeks ago was one of my favorites. I got to be with a fluff ball weighing 5 pounds, a Cotton de Tulear. I woke up to kisses on my cheeks and socks getting pulled off my feet. I also don’t say yes to large dogs anymore unless they prove to be calm and well trained in their meet and greet. Pet sitting should be fun and it absolutely is now that I don’t doubt my instincts about people and their pets.

I meet spectacular people and stay in lovely homes. Pet sitting is not a lucrative career, but it gives me a taste of that entrepreneurial life of working alone and setting my own schedule. I have positioned myself to be able to spend time building a healthy life and learning new skills to make more money. I am debt free, my car is paid off and so is my condo. Now it’s time to build wealth, and enjoy animals while I figure that next part of my life out. Pet sitting is best suited for those who are single, have no pets, are retired, in school but attend mostly online, work remotely, or are able to make this work around a part-time job schedule. As for me, I plan to continue to do this as long as I’m able to. After I figure out how to make money remotely, my goal is to expand my pet sitting location to the entire country and use the pet sitting income to fund my plane tickets. Oh, you live near Yellowstone? Let’s set up a zoom meeting and see if we’re a match. And off I’ll go to fulfill my inner nomad and make some tails wag too!

#petsitter #travel

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silverjansims · 2 years ago

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Sims 3: Silver Bells Legacy

Generation Two: Business Bells

Week One: Business in Egypt

Scenic view of our new town, Hidden Springs

Hello friends, this is Jessie Bell along with my lovely wife, Abbie welcoming you to our new home in Hidden Springs. Well, the house isn't exactly new since we inherited my parents' (Gussie & Jan) old house where I grew up with my brother, Andrew who will be starting his own story soon. Gussie and Jan gave Andrew and his future wife, Jessica enough money to build their own family home with as he will soon be joining the medical staff in another town.

Here's a cute picture of your little son, Robbie taking a break from playing with is 'special doll' to make some music on the toy xylophone.

In the meantime, please join my family for a summer evening barbecue, a putting challenge on the golf mat in our backyard. The kids can join our son, Robbie in his Sci-Fi treehouse for some imaginary adventures. There's a piano downstairs for someone who likes to play or just dance to the music coming from one of the stereos around the house.

Robbie playing 'peek-a-boo' from inside his toybox on his last day of being a toddler.

Shortly after my parents, Gussie and Jan moved into their 'golden years' home, I was asked to join the 'Report Processing' team at the Hidden Springs since the head of that department had recently resigned and they were falling behind in their business reports. Thankfully through the magic of Sim movers we were able to have our whole house and lot transplanted to a new lot in Hidden Springs near the Chesterfield household.

Robbie is now all ready for school. Yes, his favorite color is pink.

Robbie went home with Star Shue after his first day of school. Here, Robbie is doing his homework with Star who is sitting next to him and her siblings.

Abbie has taken over the care of Jan's old garden and hopes to become as good a gardener as her mother-in-law was. We haven't needed a babysitter for our son, Robbie since Abbie works evenings at the local grocery store and I'm home from work before she leaves for work. Robbie has since aged up into a lovely young boy who loves to play with his imaginary friend when not doing his homework or playing with Granny Shue's adopted children who he met at school. Athough Robbie likes to spend a lot of time by himself due to his 'loner' trait, he is also very excitable and loves cars.

Here's my lovely wife, Abbie working in the garden weeding the plants.

During my first Sim week on the job, my boss Christoff Colby sent me on a trip to find some relics for his office. Since I've always wanted to visit Egypt, I decided to head to the desert town of Simhara to fulfill my mission. While there I helped out in some local business ventures by first finding some special MorcuCorp papers for Abdul Kamel. After retrieving the papers from the Tomb of Discovery, Abdul then sent me to Sanaa Madbouli for a series of business jobs regarding the papers he found like finding some turquoise gems, interviewing locals and then exploring the Pyramid of the Burning Sands for some flame fruit. After delivering the fruit to Sanaa, I returned home with the relics for my boss.

Last but not least, here are a couple of pictures from my trip to Egypt using my muscles to clear a pile of rubble and open a hidden door that was stuck.

That's all of the main news that Abbie and I have to share with you. Hope you've enjoyed your visit and we look forward having you return in the future for more fun and news. Please enjoy the pictures included with this newsletter.

Jessie & Abbie Bell.

#sims 3 simblr #sims 3 legacy #sims 3 world adventures #SilverBellslegacy #generation 2 #reblog #hidden springs

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

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The Sight of You (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s disturbing dreams about his childhood bring him back to Las Vegas to face two of his childhood’s greatest enemies: his estranged father and his ex best friend.

AN: it’s a friends to enemies to lovers fic! Set in the episode “Memoriam” 4x07

Content Warnings: usual Criminal Minds stuff, mentions of child death, childhood trauma, descriptions of a dead body. Let me know if I missed anything!

Despite seeing Spencer around Pre-k, Y/N did not trot over to talk to him with their brightly coloured rucksack swinging vigorously and violently behind them. They walked faster instead once their parents had dropped them off. Spencer did his best to catch up to Y/N but lost them around the corner in the sea of students seeking their next class. He was meant to be one of them. Adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose, Spencer noted that he needed a new prescription before entering his own class and preparing to focus on a subject he was already well-versed in.

It was lunch time when Spencer finally found Y/N. They were sitting at the furthest end of the table in the canteen. But Y/N cowered away from him, his shoulders drawn up defensively.

“Are you OK, Y/N?” Spencer asked before getting to what was more significant to him: “Do you know when you will be free to play again?”

The next sentence out of Y/N’s mouth stung like a nettle. They stood up, their face contorted in their fit, and they pushed Spencer hard on the shoulders.

“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!” They cried.

They went silent when Spencer was laughed at by those who heard what was said. Just grabbed their lunch and moved away, leaving Spencer spellbound in the middle of the canteen, heartbroken and with a new opening for a potential chess partner. Maybe that man they saw last week at the park would be kind enough to join him again.

But there was no replacement for Y/N, who now never said a word when they caught a glimpse of Spencer being bullied – only dithering about on the spot before fleeing the scene moments before a teacher would show up.

Spencer was hurt; that hurt warped into hatred when he was next out with his mother and father. They were at the shopping mall and had just bought Spencer his new glasses. Going down the escalator, he saw Y/N. They were smiling and skipping between their parents, a new pair of shoes shiny on their feet.

The second they spotted the Reids, Y/N ducked behind their parents. Spencer could still see their face: brow furrowed, eyes squinting, hands shaking now that nothing was holding them. Their parents didn’t seem to notice. They kept talking and walking even as Y/N stopped in time with the Reids stepping off the escalator.

Sudden footsteps running away was what dragged the public’s attention to a suddenly absent child.

“Y/N!” The parents called out as they chased after the four-year-old. They were quick past the Reids, not stopping to say ‘hello’.

Spencer kept his eyes trained after Y/N’s fleeing form, right until his mother’s face came into view. Diana looked saddened; she too was staring after the L/Ns. Turned to his father. William was composed but his eyes were turned down and watering.

For making his parents react like that to their mere presence, Spencer despised Y/N.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The burning hatred from adolescence staled once Spencer reached adulthood. The protective nature that spawned from it for his mother remained.

Which is why, when Diana Reid casually mentioned Y/N when asked about Riley Jenkins, Spencer froze up.

“You remember Y/N?” He said stiffly.

Diana didn’t notice her son’s change in tone, “Of course, you two were opposites but you got on so well. So sad what happened to them.”

The first guess was that she was referring Y/N’s repeated attempts at running away before Reid cut contact with neighbourhood gossip at age fourteen. He didn’t bother with a second attempt to understand what his mother meant.

“I don’t care about Y/N. I want to know if you remember Riley.”

“And I told you: Riley was a boy you made up.”

“No, Mom, he was a real boy who lived in our neighbourhood, and somebody killed him. And, I don't know, I think-- I think that dad might have had something to do with it.”

“He was real?”

“Yes. And...”

“He was on that little league team, too.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The whole case was surreal - “case” being a very loose term.

When they got into his office, Spencer thought that perhaps things might simmer down a little. Unfortunately, as soon as his father spoke about their history of similarity in appearance, Spencer’s usual comfort of statistics and facts on the elderly and pets failed to conceal his abandonment issues.

William Reid was clearly affected by Spencer’s accusations, calling the idea of fitting the profile thus being Riley’s killer “absurd”. Furthermore, he was confrontational when asked for access to his files and demanded a warrant. Coupled with Lou Jenkins’ absolute certainty that William was not involved in Riley’s murder and Penelope asking him “you sure about this?” concerning invading the aforementioned files, Spencer was very close to snapping.

“I really wish people would stop asking me that.”

Then there was the envelope posted beneath his motel room door. Suspicious timing aside, there was a brand-new suspect basically handed over on a silver platter. One Gary Michaels whom Spencer couldn’t remember him but he couldn’t be sure that he didn’t know him. Uncertainty being the feeling he hated the most.

This man could fit the profile; his previous of exposing himself to a minor was a precursor to molestation. But that wasn’t what Spencer wanted to hear from the shady file slipped to direct his attention away from William.

Garcia reported back about his father’s drives, “No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history.”

“What about his finances?”

Hotch joined the conversation, “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we can find.”

Spencer sighed while Emily decided to crack a joke: “Well, he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago, but I think we can overlook that.”

“He’s smart. Is it possible he kept things under the table?” Spencer persisted.

“Well, of course,” Hotch answered, “But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.”

“We can tell you other things about him, if you want to know.”

A peace offering on behalf of Emily. Clearly she had improved after her night out and subsequent hangover. Spencer gave the go-ahead and Emily listed her profile:

“He's a workaholic, he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money, but he doesn't spend a lot of it. He has a modest house. He drives a hybrid. He doesn't travel much. He stays away from the casinos. Um, and according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”

“He appears to spend most of his free time alone,” Hotch added, “He goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favourite author is-”

Spencer interrupted his boss, “Isaac Asimov, I remember that one.” He pressed his lips together. They were right; William Reid did not fit the profile.

Garcia piped up once more, “He does have one other major interest. On his home computer, he's archived, like, a ka-jillion things on one common subject.”

“What?”

“You, kiddo. He's got, like, everything that's been published online. Every article you've been quoted in, pieces you've written for behavioural science journals, He even has a copy of your dissertation.”

“He's keeping tabs on you,” Rossi said, That's saying something.”

But Spencer smoothly dismissed this attempt to make excuses for his father, “Yeah, he googled me. That makes up for everything. I'm going to get some air.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

After getting said air, Spencer went to the local bar and began playing an computerised poker game. His paying attention was only to distract himself, clear his head with something he knew he could control. And thankfully, a chance interaction with a lady at the bar spawned the inspiration for a sporadic hypnosis session.

Doctor Jan Mohikian allowed them a session. Reminded of the limitations that a four-year old’s memory could provide, not including the bias he already had as a son and a profiler, Spencer lay on the couch. His feet hung over the end so that his head could be comfortable in a pillow. There was no time for self-consciousness with Rossi in the room observing. He closed his eyes and felt his hand be placed upon Doctor Mohikian’s body.

She spoke low and calmingly, “I want you to hold my wrist in your left hand. And if you should feel any fear, I want you to squeeze, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Go back to the night you were just telling me about. You're at home, in your room. You can't sleep because your parents are arguing.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

His eyes were closed still, but the couch shifted into a bed. His bed. A floor below, the faint shouting between his mother and father was heard. There was someone else there too. A child wailing, and it wasn’t him.

Suddenly his father was at his side, touching his arm, saying, “I know you’re awake. Daddy loves you; you know that?”

Spencer didn’t want to be there, and then it was the following morning.

Putting his glasses, the room fell into focus. His mother was there, she didn’t see him because she was too busy looking out the window. Her body language told him that this was not a meltdown, but what she saw was distressing. She’d been crying. As she walked away into the house, she hid her face as if she knew Spencer was watching and she wanted to hide her reaction from him.

Spencer ran to the window the second Diana had left the room.

His father was in the back garden and burning clothes. A bloody shirt, a tiny cardigan, landed on top of the pile already set alight.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and wake.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

And Spencer was shocked out of the scene, back to the doctor’s couch and gripping her wrist with an iron grip. Rossi was by his side, bringing him back to peace with his voice.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Derek was clearly disturbed that Spencer was very set on his father being a paedophilic murderer as much as he had been that Spencer was taking something that was said after his mother’s fit seriously. He continued however to assist with Rossi in Spencer’s investigation.

As if everything else hadn’t been hard enough, the captain took some time to agree to holding William Reid in custody. Finally, he settled for twenty-four hours. William was as resistant to the questions as he had been upon the initial reunion. All he could say was that he didn’t hurt Riley. Spencer wore him down, getting him to drop the Gary Michaels bomb plus the threat that he “didn’t want to go down that road”.

Garcia’s search of Gary Michaels’ DNA on the databases brought to light that their suspect was dead. Buried across state lines, beat over the head with a pipe or bat, and the body was discovered in 2001.

“Maybe it wasn’t Riley’s blood on the clothes he was burning.” Derek was about to hang up when Garcia began to speak again, a new discovery ready for her team.

“Also, Todd found something in your father’s finances. There was a standing order for a therapist, specifically a child therapist from 1985 to 1995. I thought it was for Spencer, but William left when you were twelve, and these sessions continue irregularly after he left you!”

“Who was the patient?”

“One Y/N L/N. Local to North Vegas, born 1980 to Shelly and Finley L/N.”

Both Rossi and Derek looked away from the phone to Spencer and he knew. He knew he’d have to face another villain from the past – like a knight in one of Y/N’s stories.

“Still alive?”

“Yep, already pulling up an address. There’s a lot of short leases attached to this name. Lucky for you, they keep going back to live with their parents.”

Spencer wasn’t entirely sure that he could handle two bitter reunions in one day.

“We’ll send off the fingerprint while we visit Y/N. They could have been a potential victim of Michaels before he died. They might know something.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was a normal home in a normal neighbourhood. Spencer had never visited Y/N’s house. Their play-dates were always at the park.

“Hello, Mr L/N,” held up their badges, “I’m Agent Derek Morgan, this is Agent David Rossi and Doctor Spencer Reid. May we come in and ask you some questions?”

“Sure. My wife is uh out at work at the moment,” Finley opened the door wider and stepped aside for the trio to enter, “I’m the house husband as it were.”

Looking about the kitchen, Spencer spied several photos of an adult Y/N but very few of them as a toddler and even less as a teenager.

“You have a child, Mr L/N?” Rossi asked.

“All grown up now, Y/N,” Finley smiled with a nod. Then he squinted at Spencer, “You’re not related to William Reid by chance, are you?”

Masking his bitterness, Spencer said shortly, “He’s my father.”

Finley seemed in awe at the prospect, so Derek redirected the conversation back to the matter at hand, “What was Y/N like as a child?”

Nodding still, like a bobble head, Finley looked weary at the notion, “Troubled. They were very young when they withdrew into themselves. Used to run away from home a lot. I don’t know what happened, but Y/N never told us.” He then jumped to protect his child’s reputation at present, “They’re doing better now, went to therapy and they’re doing very well for themselves.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Rossi replied.

Finley continued his defence of Y/N, “They’re a published author, they write fantasy things for kids and young adults. We’re very proud of them.”

“Did Y/N know Riley Jenkins when they were a child?”

“Riley Jenkins, that’s Lou’s kid who died, right?” Finley sought confirmation and, when he had it, he spoke, “Not personally. I think they might have played at the park once or twice. Before he died, Y/N would play with anyone. But you… you know that.” And Finley gestured to Spencer, much to his disgust.

“Is Y/N in the area?” Spencer asked briskly.

“Well, they’re due for a visit in a few hours. They went on holiday.”

“They still live with you?”

“A month ago, they got a new flat in the city. But they’ve got their own room here, for whenever they need it.”

“May we see it?”

The wallpaper was barely visible beneath exam revision notes, posters of Fresh sheets on the bed and the clear space on the floor were the only tidy things about the place. It was a haven of organised clutter.

A chess set caught Spencer’s eye. It sat upon the windowsill, recently dusted. The pieces were not that of a classic set; each was painted prettily but with enough error to indicate it was a personal touch.

“You and Y/N were close then?” Derek was holding up a photo album. Upon inspection, the photograph the page was open on was of Spencer and Y/N dressed up for Halloween as Doctor Frankenstein and the Monster respectively – accurate to the book of course.

“Yeah, ‘were’,” Spencer turned back to the chess set. He didn’t bother to ask when his friends had figured out he knew Y/N.

Rossi decided to further test the waters, “You think that Y/N could have killed Riley?”

“Of course not. A four-year-old couldn’t kidnap, tie up, rape, and kill a boy their own age. No violent history that indicates they would ever do something like this. Do I think that Y/N knows something about what happened and my father is trying to keep them quiet? Yes.”

Rossi moved beside Spencer, picking up the knight. Except it wasn’t a knight. It was a wizard of some kind in purple robes.

“We’ll stay up here for a bit then go down once Y/N’s inside and settled,” He gestured with the knight to the window. Spencer blanched as he spied a cab at the end of the driveway. The trunk was open and someone was retrieving a suitcase from within.

Y/N appeared around the corner, waving off the cab and turning to the house. Mr L/N appeared on the drive and they met in the middle for a hug. Over Mr L/N’s shoulder, Spencer could see that Y/N had grown into their chubby childhood features. They looked genuinely happy.

He would have to go through with it, but he didn’t have to like it. And he couldn’t go hide in the bathroom like with his father.

The trio plodded down the stairs when the sound of the front door closing was replaced with a joyous gathering in the kitchen. It all changed when Y/N went to take off their jacket and caught sight of the three FBI agents standing in the doorway. Taking out his badge, Rossi led the way.

“Hello, Y/N, I’m Agent David Rossi, this is Agent Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid. We’re looking into the death of Riley Jenkins, and we were hoping to ask you some questions.”

To the naked eye, very little changed about Y/N’s appearance. To the three profilers, there was a visceral reaction: Y/N’s right hand started trembling, the hard swallow, the dropping of their gaze from Spencer to the floor.

“OK,” They said, a great deal quieter than they had been with their father.

Rossi sat next to Y/N at the dinner table. Derek was beside Rossi; Spencer stayed standing. Mr L/N stayed in the kitchen, at Y/N’s request.

“Can you tell us what you remember about Riley?” Rossi began.

“Not very much, I don’t really remember much about school.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Spencer blurted, “Well, I do.”

Derek glanced back at him with a look that just screamed “shut the hell up”. It seemed to cut down Y/N’s resolve, their jaw quivering.

“Sorry, can you give me a moment?” They stood up quick, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor as they walked just as fast to the kitchen. Through the open door, Rossi, Derek, and Spencer watched Y/N grab a glass from the open dishwasher. The water from the tap hit the bottom of the glass harsh, crashing out like a wave of the ocean hitting a cliff. Y/N didn’t seem to care. Their hand dripped water onto the surface as they chugged back some of the drink before returning to the table with a topped-up glass.

“Are you alright?” Rossi inquired, leaning closer to Y/N.

They answered wearily, “Fine, just feeling woozy.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Yeah, you’re a writer too. My mom reads your stuff before bed.”

“Bit of an odd nightcap,” Rossi said with a little chuckle.

Y/N shared that smile for the briefest of moments, replying “You’re telling me.”

From their pocket, they pulled out some painkillers, popping them back with a slug of water then speaking again. “I remember Riley was smaller than me. Still figuring out coordination, but he liked to play chase. I know he was killed; I didn’t find out how until I looked into it last year.”

“Why did you look into it?” Rossi gently probed.

Y/N rubbed two fingers back and forth across their head as they spoke, “I was back here, I felt sick so I went for a walk in the park, and I just remembered him tripping over while trying to tag me. No one ever told me what happened, just that he had to go away. I wanted to know what happened to him.”

“Are you sick often?” Derek asked suddenly, his voice soft to match Rossi. Spencer grimaced at the treatment Y/N was receiving but said nothing.

“Headaches and stomach aches mostly.”

“You get them whenever you come home?”

“I do. Figured I was allergic to something but never figured out what.”

That would have to be a very quick response, like a dog allergy. And coincidental, seeing as the symptoms didn’t start until they saw Spencer.

“Y/N?” called their father, “Can you come here a moment please?”

“May I?”

“Of course,” said Derek and Y/N was out of the room. Derek pivoted in his chair to include Spencer in his theory, “I think they know something, but they don’t know they know it. I think they repressed this memory like you did, Spencer. We should take him to the therapist, see if we can jog his memory.”

“You can’t be serious,” Spencer covered his face with his hands, dragging them down with irritation.

Derek was persistent though, “Spencer, like it or not, Y/N’s linked to this investigation. Put aside your differences for a moment, please.”

Spencer all but squawked, “Put aside my differences?”

“You have brought a lot of bias to this case. Let us at least pursue this lead.”

“Sorry,” Y/N interrupted Spencer’s retort, sitting back at the table, “He needed someone to get unhook the loft door. Mom usually does it.”

“That’s alright.” Rossi waved a hand dismissively. Once Y/N accepted that, he moved in with Derek’s suggestion, “You know, some people have strong physical reactions to memories, trauma. Maybe you’re not getting sick. You’re rejecting something.”

“Rejecting?” repeated Y/N. There was no doubt in their voice, more cautious curiosity.

Derek nodded, “A memory, repressing it, and your body has linked the physical responses to your home. We think it has something to do with this case, and we’d like to see if we can retrieve any memories you might have. Would you be alright to come with us?”

“Yeah,” said Y/N, though they didn’t sound too certain, “Yeah sure.”

The resigned, too tired look on their face, and Spencer felt a tug in his chest. A longing to see Y/N smile like they had when they first entered the house. He’d rather hate someone who was happy than someone who suffered the same as him.

Leaving the house, Spencer took a deep breath of fresh air.

“Spencer?”

He ignored Y/N’s voice for a moment, but he couldn’t disregard Y/N standing in front of him and speaking again, “Spencer, can we talk please?”

“I’m busy,” He said, already walking off as he pretended to call someone, “Hey Garcia.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Hold onto my hand, use it as an anchor, and squeeze when you feel fear.” Doctor Mohikian accepted Y/N’s hand on her wrist and their silence nod as they lay back on the same couch Spencer had been just hours before.

“I want you to think back to your childhood, back to when you were five. You’re at the park, your parents are on a bench watching nearby to keep you safe. What do you see?”

“Spencer Reid.”

Derek and Rossi glanced at Spencer, who did not react. They kept quiet so that Y/N could immerse themselves in the hypnosis.

“What’s he doing?” Doctor Mohikian continued.

“Teaching me chess.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Sat on opposite sides of the table, Spencer and Y/N’s eyes were glued to the chess pieces that were neatly organised between them. Spencer was thinking strategy. He could not say the same for his companion Y/N. They reached a hand out and hovered over the pieces before finally selecting their last knight.

Their tongue clicked as Y/N trotted the piece on the spot.

“What’s this one again?”

“The knight,” Spencer recited, “It moves two spaces up, down, left or right, and another step perpendicular to the first direction.”

“Brave creatures riding into battle,” Y/N narrated before continuing their clip-clopping to its new position, “Pawns in the game of war.”

Spencer didn’t understand how they were coming up with this whilst playing. Well, actually, he did. Because Y/N was clearly not playing to win. They were playing for the best possible story.

“Where do you think this story will end?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” said Y/N, pushing back the sleeves of their white cardigan, “Come on, you can tell me, with your magic powers.”

“It’s not magic. It’s logic.”

“That’s magic to me,”

Narrowing his eyes, Spencer decided that he should give his friend the information they sought: “I see checkmate in fifteen moves.”

“See? Magic! The gift of sight!” crowed Y/N, clapping their hands together. The cardigan sleeves fell back in place as they did so. Spencer felt his cheeks heat up; he dropped his head so he could smile in privacy while Y/N began to decide their next move.

“How’s your mommy today?”

Shrugging, Spencer said, “Better than normal. But that means a bad day is around the corner.”

Y/N nodded solemnly. “Do you want another ice cream? I got more birthday money.”

“No thank you.” Spencer moved the piece but was immediately intercepted by Y/N, “You’re getting better.”

“Fank you.”

“You’ll have to wait longer to beat me though.” And he snatched Y/N’s knight away, just as planned and much to Y/N’s dismay.

A new voice from their left spoke, “Hey you’re pretty good.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Y/N’s grip tightened on Doctor Mohikian’s wrist, “Someone’s with us.”

“Who do you see?” Doctor Mohikian asked patiently.

“A man. He’s asking us if he can watch us play, listen to the story.”

“Do you want him to stay?”

“No,” Y/N flinched, “But Spencer keeps talking to him. The man won’t go away.”

“It’s OK, it’s OK, you’re safe, Y/N.”

Y/N flinched again, this time letting out a whimper, “He’s on the floor.”

“Spencer is?”

“No, the man.”

“What’s he doing on the floor?”

“He’s,” Y/N began panting, their face tensing and body jerking, “I can’t get to him. There’s glass in the way and the ground is shaking.”

“Y/N.”

“I can’t look, I’ll be sick! Whenever I see them, sick.”

“OK, you’re going to wake up in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”

Their eyes snapped open with the click of the fingers and Y/N leapt out of Doctor Mohikian’s couch. Their head aimed over the bin by the door and they retched. Nothing came up but their stomach continued to squeeze up

Spencer fidgeted in his seat, trying his best not to look at Y/N. The choice words of the session, three in particular, wrapped around his head.

“Floor”.

Y/N had seen Gary Michaels inside, somewhere that wasn’t the park.

“Glass”.

A window, Y/N was watching what Gary Michaels was doing.

“Sick”.

“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!”

“Them”.

It wasn’t just Michaels in the room alone. They had been a witness to his murder.

Derek’s movement to help Y/N took Spencer out of his analysis. Sweaty, Y/N was led back to the couch, the bin between their legs, head lolling forward. Spencer tried to move beside them for questioning, but Y/N winced and began heaving again. He felt that ache in his chest again. He was causing this and nothing he could do would change that. Not until they both knew what happened to Riley and Y/N got help through it.

“What did you see, Y/N?” Derek asked as he replaced Spencer’s spot beside them.

With watering eyes, Y/N looked at Spencer, “The man we played with, he was on the floor. His head – thank you.” They accepted the water from Doctor Mohikian, gulping some back, “It was smashed in.”

The three agents left the room, Doctor Mohikian following after Y/N left to get some air.

“It’s logical to assume that Y/N tied that sickness, that repulsion because of what they thought they saw your mother be involved with, to you and your family,” Doctor Mohikian evaluated.

Interrupting again, Spencer stammered his way through his analysis, “That’s why they avoided me. They associated me with being ill. It’s probably also why they ran away so much; they had to get away from this horrible feeling they had associated with their home.”

Doctor Mohikian shook her head, “We won’t be able to use this in court, I told you when we started.”

Derek’s phone started to ring. As he answered, Spencer somehow managed to slip away for long enough to find Y/N. They were leaning against the ramp’s railing in front of the practice, their body lifting and slumping with each deep breath they took. Against his better judgement, he moved toward them.

“Y/N? Can I have your number?”

The breathing slowed again.

“I need it to call you with an update on the situation as soon as we get one.”

Without looking up, Y/N pulled out their phone and handed it over to Spencer. He punched his number in a new contact, using this time to gather the courage to maybe say something else. The hurt and pain went beyond him now. Y/N was suffering and had been much longer than he had.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Spencer said quietly, hoping that his didn’t add to the illness, “I hope you feel better soon.”

Their head still down, Y/N croaked, “You too, Spencer.”

“Spencer, get over here! We got a match on a print on Michaels’ body!”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“What makes you think Gary Michaels killed your boy?”

“He admitted it,” Lou Jenkins said, as monotonous as he had been for the last fifteen minutes of the interrogation.

Derek’s quickfire was on Jenkins instantly, “You beat a guy with a baseball bat, he's going to admit to a lot of things. How do you know he was the right guy?”

“I know. He approached another kid in the neighbourhood.”

“And how do you know that?

“I was told by a concerned party.”

“Who? Another parent?”

Jenkins leant back in his chair, “That's all I'm going to say on the subject.”

“Who was it?” Spencer suddenly spoke up.

Caught off guard at his interjection, Jenkins awkwardly parroted himself, “I told you that's all I'm going to say on the sub—"

Reid slammed his hands on the table, getting right up in Lou’s face, “Who was it?”

The door opened, Detective Hyde appeared, “Agent Reid?”

“Do not interfere with this interrogation, detective,” shouted Spencer, “This is not your case anymore!”

Once again, he was cut off. This time, by the arrival of his own mother, Diana, and her admission of guilt: “Spencer, it was me”.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Of all the things this case had brought him, Spencer least expected to be sitting in a room with his mother and father together for the first time in years. To have Diana explain to him how she was involved in a child’s murder was also up there with the unthinkable.

But he stayed quiet and listened to her confession.

The reveal that she had seen Gary Michaels playing chess with him and Y/N, that she and got a feeling that something was wrong before anything had even happened, opened the story. Lou Jenkins’ involvement was next on the menu. Two days after the chess game, he drove Diana to Michaels’ house, disclosed his history of child abuse, and demanded she leave while he went into the house.

Upon reaching the point where she entered the house, Diana struggled with her words. William reached over and took her hand.

She described seeing Lou with the bat, standing over the body, slipping in the pool of blood, finding Y/N standing in the window and their face, their little face as innocent as the white cardigan that covered their shoulders and absorbed the blood from Diana’s hands as she shook their shoulders.

“And the rest... It's all dark after that.”

William continued for her. Diana came home and brought Y/N with her. Eventually he came to understand what had happened and decided that nobody could ever know.

“You were burning her bloody clothes,” Spencer concluded.

His father nodded, “But the knowing, you can't burn that away. It changes everything.”

“You paid for Y/N to go to therapy.”

William didn’t seem surprised that Spencer knew this, going straight into explaining: “They went into a dissociative fugue state after seeing what Lou had done. When Diana brought them home, they were just stiff. I asked them for their home number, to call their parents, but they started screaming and throwing up. We had to take them to the police station.” He mopped his brow with a handkerchief, “They needed help, but their parents couldn’t afford it. And they didn’t know what had happened. I couldn’t drag another person into this, Spencer.”

“Is this why you left?”

“I tried to keep us together, Spencer. I swear to you, but the weight of that knowledge, it was too much.”

“You could have come back. Could have started over.”

“I didn't know how to take care of you anymore. When I lost that confidence, there was no going back. What's done is done.”

“At least now you know the truth,” Diana made an effort to smile at her son

Choking on his words and the overwhelming remorse he felt, Spencer refused to look at his parents any longer, “I was wrong about everything. I'm sorry.”

And William said something that Spencer had been waiting for, for a long time, “I am, too, Spencer.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

All of this was repeated when Spencer walked with Y/N through their old park the following day. Filling the final gaps in the memory would hopefully bring some respite to them both. Or at least maybe something to start the recovery process, easing Y/N’s sickness and Spencer’s pain.

“I’m sorry for my behaviour during this case,” Spencer sniffed, “When you said we made you sick, back when we were four, I thought you had seen my mom during one of her episodes and thought she was a freak, like everyone else.”

That stopped Y/N in their tracks, their hands coming up to cover their mouth, their eyes misty, “Oh Spencer, I’m sorry too, I’m so, so sorry I caused you so much pain.”

Spencer’s hands rushed up as if to create belated damage control, “It’s ok! I hurt you too. I made you sick.”

“That wasn’t your fault though.”

“It wasn’t yours either. We were kids.”

Almost pedantic, stropping, like a child again, Y/N moaned, “It’s all been such a waste. We could have been friends all this time!”

“We can be friends now,” Spencer pushed his hands down into his pockets to stop them flailing about anymore. His sentence was phrased more like a question.

One that Y/N gladly answered, “I would like really that.”

Sitting in the reply for a moment, Spencer followed up on his concerns, “How are you feeling? I mean, are you feeling sick again?”

“A bit, but I can handle it.”

Spencer could not see any changes in their behaviour from the day before. So obviously they were lying about that. But he didn’t protest. The lie meant Y/N wanted to stay with him, which was good - Spencer wanted that too.

They kept walking, only in silence for half a minute before Spencer broke it again, “I read your books last night.”

“Yeah?”

“‘The Siege of the Lost Faiths’ in Rogue’s Mask, that was our first game of chess.”

“It had by far the best narrative,” Y/N dragged their shoe a little on the grass before coming to a stop, “Do you still play?”

“All the time.”

They nodded over to where the old chess tables still stood, “Fancy a game before you go?”

Spencer grinned, “Just promise that this is the only setting where we’ll be on conflicting sides from now on.”

“Promise.”

Brushing the debris from the table, they both took their places opposite each other. From Y/N’s bag was revealed a box, spilling their painted chess pieces across the board. Remembering how they had stood in Y/N’s room, Spencer helped to set up the match. They took their seats opposite one another. Y/N was the green side, Spencer the purple.

Spencer moved first. After a second’s deliberation, Y/n moved their pawn.

“Isn’t there a story with this one?” Spencer said, an implicated teasing in his tone despite his shyness.

With an equally bashful eye roll, Y/N started their new story, “First begins the battle with the royals on both sides sending intrepid messengers to meet and pass along their deeds.”

Spencer took Y/N’s pawn. As he lifted their piece away, he spoke quietly, “One not as intrepid as the other.”

A gasp dropped from Y/N’s smile. He had never joined in the narrative telling before, always too taken up in the match to invest in whatever story they spun.

“He’s not a coward,” They said, still smiling, much to Spencer’s delight, “Prisoner’s dilemma, he just couldn’t trust the other with his life.”

“Did they know each other before this battle?”

“Yes,” Y/N moved a knight across, stealing Spencer’s pawn, “They were brothers who once shared a crib and now they share a grave.”

Throughout the game, Y/N continued the story with Spencer asking questions just to hear them talk more. The maturity of the stories had grown just as Y/N’s voice had. They knuckled their eyes a few times, but they didn’t complain about the headache.

“I know what endings you like,” Spencer moved his rook, “Checkmate in five.”

Y/N didn’t seem to mind that little dig, “This’ll have to be a short story instead then.”

Spencer’s next sentence got away from him, trailing off the closer he got to the end of it, “You could write an anthology series, if we see each other again and play more games.”

Where Spencer’s voice disappeared, Y/N’s returned with invigoration, “That’s not a half bad idea, Spencer.”

The checkmate never came. Y/N diverted the ending into a draw.

“A peace treaty has been forged by the survivors, because too many lives have been lost to justify this violence anymore. If only they realised sooner that no blood had to be shed for peace to rule the lands.” And they smiled at Spencer, clearly chuffed as they leaned back in their chair, “Bit of an upgrade from the horse noises, I’ll say.”

Spencer rotated the purple knight – the illusionist – between his thumb and forefinger, “I liked the horse noises.”

“You should have said during the match! I’d recreate them, for you.”

One by one, the pieces were placed back into their box until the last piece remained in Spencer’s palm: the knight or Soren the Illusionist, distractions and deceptions but he loved the tricks that delighted most of all. Just like Spencer with his magic tricks but a little to the left. The character was always one of Y/N’s favourites. Some solace away from the pain of thinking of who he was based on.

Y/N pushed Spencer’s hand away, closes his fist around it, “Keep him. He was made with you in mind anyway.”

The information sank in and Spencer’s nose wrinkled with the little smile on his face as he cupped the little Illusionist, “I’m Soren?”

Nodding, Y/N confirmed, “You’re Soren.”

“But what about your set though?”

“I can always make and paint another knight,” and Y/N tilted the piece upside down in Spencer’s hand, revealing the signature on the underside, “You and him are the originals, it’s only fair you stay together.”

In a moment of pure instinct and nostalgia, Spencer clicked his tongue as he twisted Soren in time with the noise. Y/N let out a burst of laughter that dragged the air out of Spencer’s chest.

“Hey, do you wanna get dinner tonight?” He said, running out of breath very quickly as a result.

It had a similar effect on Y/N, “I thought you – don’t you have to get back to Virginia?”

“I have time for dinner. For you.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The bookstore was packed but the breath of the patrons was held as one. All eyes were watching the mini stage where a crouching figure lifted their head up slowly. A jump as the tension broke with the figure leaping up to their feet with a bang.

Y/N pushed up the brim of their cap. Snatching a deep green hoodie from the purple trunk – silver constellations painted on the sides – they swung it over their back before picking up the page where they had left off.

“Nasima looked up at Mason and said, ‘Well that was just unnecessary.’”

A burst of laughter shot through the pre-teens in the front row, spreading to the adolescents sitting further back who had grown up with the author’s other works, finally reaching the adults at the back where Spencer was fiddling with his cane. He adjusted the sleeve of his costume absentmindedly. He was just like everyone else in the room: captivated by how Y/N was so immersed in their reading.

They had just mimed kicking down a door, plus sound effects from their mouth. Swapping back and forth between the two conflicting characters arguing with one another, changing between the hoodie and the cap with every other line of dialogue and taking both off for the role of the narrator, it was certainly a workout.

An exaggerated breath was drawn into Y/N’s lungs, flopping over in a melodramatic state, which caused another laugh in the audience.

Spencer’s nose scrunched up as he grinned. He knew this was part of the scene; he’d seen Y/N rehearse this story in their sitting room. It was so much better to share this with an audience, for their reactions to fuel Y/N’s energy.

Y/N finished the short story A Battle of Bent Truths with a flourish, leaving the rest of the anthology for their audience to read in their own time. The kids were up on their feet first. Some of them were jumping up and down as they applauded with the rest of the shop. Y/N gave a big grin as they bowed, sweeping their cap off for extra drama.

There was a book signing and a photographer that followed, and Spencer waited patiently at the end of the queue, thankful that the store allowed him to bring a chair along with him. He was happy to entertain his godson and friends with a few tricks to pass the time.

“Another one please!” Henry jumped up and down when Spencer revealed his card.

A minor commotion arose by the photographer’s backdrop. There was a teenager was crying; she was clutching her copy of Untold Tales of Human Nature. Y/N was holding their shoulders, rubbing gently and speaking softly. Only half paying attention to his next trick, Spencer kept an eye on Y/N as they hugged the teenager, looking near tears themselves.

“Spencer?” J.J tapped him on the shoulder and Spencer realised that Henry was looking a little mad to have lost his godfather’s attention so easily.

“Sorry, Henry, can you pick another card please?”

When they reached the front of the queue, JJ went up first and took Henry and his pals up to see Y/N. They instantly recognised JJ and welcomed her with a tight hug. Henry was delighted to see his favourite babysitter and show them off to his school friends, boasting that they had read to him before today.

“They read me bits for bedtime, Mommy!”

“I know!” JJ tickled his cheek, “I read them to you too.”

“Who do you like better?”

“Mommy,”

Y/N gasped, dropping to their knees which made Spencer wince, “Henry, you wound me!”

Rossi approach next, knowing that once Spencer got to Y/N, they would not be left alone.

“You really know how to captivate an audience,” He kissed them on both cheeks, “Though don’t take offence if I don’t use the same tricks at my readings.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it! Thank you for coming.”

Y/N then caught Spencer’s eye and began meandering over to him with a smile they were desperately trying to stifle. Spencer rose from his chair, meeting Y/N in the middle.

“Hi, Spencer.”

With his free arm, Spencer flaunted his cloak, “Who is Spencer? I’m Soren the Illusionist!”

Giggles from his godson, his godson’s gang, his co-workers and friends, they almost caused Y/N to lose their composure. They held on just long enough to continue the banter.

“Oh, forgive me, you look so much like my boyfriend.”

“Hmmm, he must be very handsome,”

And Y/N burst into peals of laughter, waving their hands about, “OK, stop, stop, stop, I can’t.”

“Hey!” Spencer pretended to take offence, pouting as Y/N brought him into a hug.

“Don’t worry,” They kissed his cheek between giggles, “You are so very handsome.”

“To think you were once sick at the sight of me.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #my writing #r: gender neutral #wc: 5k+

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starlightinhumanform · 3 years ago

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24/7: Chapter One

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Loceit, Platonic Demus, Platonic Logicality

Summary: James (aka Janus) works the graveyard shift at a open-all-night convenience store. Logan is a college student who stays up way too late, way too often. While pulling all-nighters, he often visits the store James works at. As time goes on, James begins to care about Logan as more than just a customer.

Warnings: Moderate Language, Some suggestive jokes, Mentions of ignorant/negative sentiments regarding vitiligo, Mentions of intoxication— some implied to be underage (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: College AU, Coffeeshop AU but weird (that’s literally the best way i can think of describing it), Mutual Feelings, Fluff

A/N: — Janus’ name in this AU is James (mostly because when I began planning this, his name hadn’t been revealed). I may still include his name by writing in a name-change but we’ll see lmao — I do not have vitiligo and do not personally know anyone with vitiligo; Janus’ experience with the condition is based entirely on my research. That being said, I did my best to give an accurate representation but I do not claim that it is flawless in anyway. If there are any improvements you think I can make in this area, please please let me know 🖤🖤🖤 Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

James’ first shift started normally. That is, as normally as he could assume 24 hour convenience store shifts could be. It’s not like he had much experience with it.

Being his first day, he had assumed that the manager would’ve at least stuck around for a while. Instead, the woman had pointed out the bathroom plunger— advising him to not let anyone steal it— told him how to use the slushie machine, and said that if someone tried to rob the store, let them take the money; she even showed him the quickest way to open the cash register. Then she left within the first hour of James’ shift.

James didn’t mind being alone but he couldn’t fight down the frustration at his manager for abandoning him without actually telling him anything useful. He kept worrying that someone would ask a question that he couldn’t answer. What if the customer got angry and then he got reported and lost his job on the first night? Not to mention every time someone walked in, he was ready to bargain for his life with the $225.67 and a random condom in the cash register.

The adrenaline was getting to his head, stirring up usually dormant worries. He couldn’t stop glancing down at his hands. They were warm tan, patterned at random with lighter splotches. He had a condition known as vitiligo which made areas of his skin lose their pigmentation. For the majority of the time, it wasn’t a big deal; the worst part was the weird looks people gave him and even then, he could usually brush them off. Still, there was always the occasional idiot who felt the need to say something rude or inform him that he showed signs of demon possession. He hoped beyond everything that one of those incidents didn’t occur while he was alone in the store.

Thankfully, the only customers for the next few hours were a couple groups of teenagers at varying levels of intoxication and a traveling family made up of two parents suffering from highway-hypnosis and a small child who tried to climb into one of the drink refrigerators.

By one in the morning, the flow of incoming patrons had completely stopped. By that point James had already thrown back an entire 5-hour Energy drink and reorganized the chip rack— twice .

When the entry bell finally rang again at around two, James’ head was buzzing so badly he wasn’t sure if he had imagined the sound or not. A young man walked in— college aged with messy hair and glasses. He disappeared into the rows of brightly coloured plastic bags without a word and so quickly it made James once again question whether or not he was hallucinating.

It wasn’t until the man had made his way back to the counter, setting down a bag of chips and a couple energy drinks, that James was sure he existed. The man’s hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in two days and his dark circles were so deep they could be seen from beneath his squared glasses. Yup, definitely a college student.

Despite the obvious signs of exhaustion, the man was undeniably pretty. Counter to his tired scowl, his eyes were bright and alert, framing a sharp nose. The way he kept his strong chin tilted slightly upwards and walked with purpose gave him the appearance of someone who actually knew what he was doing with his life— so basically, the opposite of James.

James was hardly ever self conscious about his appearance but this man— this stupidly pretty, oddly perfect man— made James squirm just a little bit, made him wonder if he was living on one side of some scale while the customer lounged on the other side. James tried to shrugged it off, focusing on the items in front of him instead.

The man spent the entire interaction at the counter muttering to himself and never once making eye contact. It was a little strange, but he was cute and James was bored so he decided to just appreciate the entertainment while it lasted.

It wasn’t until James went to hand the man his receipt that he seemed to even become aware of James’ existence. James held out the thin slip of paper, apparently causing the man to flinch backwards. His reaction was strong enough to make James wonder if he was one of those people— the type that thought vitiligo was some sort of deadly, contagious disease.

His eyes darted up quickly, his gaze sharp as it scanned over James’ face, “You’re not the normal cashier.”

He was taken aback by the accusing tone in the man’s voice, “No, I guess I’m not? I just got hired; the other guy got let off… something about trying to steal the plunger.”

“Oh,” His face transformed into a noncommittal scowl that James simply could not read, “Expect me regularly.”

The man turned on his heels and walked briskly to the door as James stood frozen and mystified behind the counter, “Oh, uh… see you soon then.”

——————

James woke up to the smell of something burning. He didn’t even remember dragging himself home and collapsing in his bed but based on the smell bothering him he evidently had made it back. No one could burn food quite like his roommate.

“Remus what the fuck are you doing?” James shuffled out to the kitchen where his roommate was poking at something on the stove.

“Making lunch.”

Based on his bed head and near-complete lack of clothes (Remus always slept in booty shorts and nothing else) James could guess that he had woken up only a few minutes earlier himself, “Dude that does not smell like anything humans should eat.”

Remus gave him a wicked grin and James decided not to push the subject. He walked out of the room with a sigh and hoped that the smell would clear up soon.

He made his way into the living room, sitting down and flipping open his laptop. James groaned at the lack of new email notifications. No new emails meant no new job acceptions.

“Guess I’m working the night shift again.”

James was grateful he got the job at the convenience store— no question. Getting a job as a college dropout was both necessary and nearly impossible at the same time. He was lucky to get a job at all and being a graveyard shift, he got paid nearly double the normal wage for his position. For now, his sleep schedule would just have to suffer.

——————

The weeks drifted by and James fell into a dull, but easy rhythm. He would go to work every night, spend the hours rearranging chip bags, guarding the plunger, and— if he was lucky— the pretty college boy would come in for a few minutes to grab salty food and a caffeinated drink.

James wasn’t sure when it became “lucky” for the man to come into the store. Maybe it was lucky because he was entertaining, always preoccupied and wandering around the store like his mind was a hundred miles away. He had this odd sort of duality— somehow both spaced out and intensely focused at the same time. It was like he was concentrating on the dimension beyond the one James was living in. He floated through this world, always preoccupied with world in his head. It was endearing and intriguing and James found himself looking forward to seeing the man. James wanted to see the world inside his head, to know what was so captivating that he had no use or interest for what was outside of it.

The student was quickly becoming his favourite customer— something James never thought he would have— and he genuinely enjoyed having a chance to talk to the other guy. He was handsome, obviously intelligent, and, if given the chance, James definitely would’ve asked him out for a drink.

As it was though, James looked awful in his uniform so he would never have the confidence to make a move the only times he ever saw him.

James started to watch for him. The man came at least once a week, always between midnight and four in the morning. He must have lived nearby because he always walked over instead of taking a car like most of the other patrons. Either that, or he lived further away and walked all the way just for a bag of chips and an energy drink.

It was a Thursday like any other when he walked into the store and James’ curiosity got the better of him.

“So,” James leaned across the counter as the man sat his items down, “you come around here often?”

He tilted his head quizzically, “Yes? I do come here often? You’ve seen me.”

“No I— it was a joke,” James resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. This was… not going the way James would have hoped, “What’s your name? We might as well get on first name basis since we see each other all the time.”

“I’m Logan,” Logan seemed surprised by the question.

“I’m James.”

Logan gave a curt nod, “I know.”

“But— how? I—“

“It’s on your name tag,” And with that, Logan turned and marched out of the store.

——————

Logan laid on his back, arms and legs spread over the entirety of his bed. The only leftover space of the bed was occupied by Patton, one of his housemates.

“So how did the all-nighter go?”

Logan groaned, “Well… it sure as hell did go all night. I’m so fucking tired.”

“This is what you get for viewing the entire American university system as a challenge.”

He squinted up at Patton. With his blond hair and round, smiling face he looked like the direct inversion of whatever pale little zombie Logan currently felt like, “I gotta stop staying up so late.”

“I don’t know, you kind of seem to like it,” His housemate patted his leg and stood up to walk out of Logan’s room, “By the way, where do you keep going? I hear you leaving the house, like, super early all the time.”

Sunlight was streaming through his partially open blinds. It was probably quite pretty but to Logan it just looked like a headache-inducing glare. He threw a pillow over his face, muffling his voice as he answered, “Booty call.”

Patton laughed as he stopped walking, “Yeah right. The day you answer a booty call is the day I will shave my head.”

Logan shifted the pillow slightly to look at Patton again. The man’s hair was his prize possession, like a curly fluffy cloud that he kept as a pet on top of his head. Logan didn’t know how Patton could afford the time and money he put into his hair. What he did know, however, was that Patton would never risk its safety. Logan frowned in (mostly) fake insult, “You really think there’s not a single person who would send me a horny text at three in the morning?”

“Nah I think there are quite a few people who would do that. I just doubt there’s anyone you’d actually find worth answering.”

Was there anyone he would actually answer? Logan stared up at the dark fabric above him. The pillowcase was a deep navy blue and if he really squinted, he could see the weave of the thread, a thousand random threads coming together to make a greater whole. The way the individual pieces created something far larger than themselves was fascinating to Logan. He had never given it much before, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find a random individual worth making something together.

In the darkness covering his eyes, a vision of the convenience store cashier flashed across his mind. The face he saw was light brown and across that warm canvas, lighter portions sprawled. For the first time, Logan began really thinking about that face. He had sharp features, tired eyes, and when he smiled with lips sloped upwards at a lopsided angle. His skin reminded Logan of the glossy photos of nebulae in his astronomy textbooks— bright splashes breaking up the sameness of the night sky. How had he never noticed that before? What was his name? James.

He heard the creak of their old floors beneath Patton as he walked out of Logan’s room. He probably thought Logan had fallen asleep as he lay there in silence. He was far from asleep, though. His mind was racing, trying to find the missed connections and continually finding new ones in the process. His eyes flickered as previously unrecognized thoughts began surfacing. And they didn’t stop. How had he never noticed?

“I’ve been going to that convenience store down the street,” Logan called as Patton walked away.

James.

Maybe there was someone for him.

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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years ago

Note

So I have this idea, You know how people want/like things they can’t have, MontyxOC have always had this friendship that bordered on something more but it never got there. She gets a boyfriend, Monty starts avoiding her majorly & their friendship crumbles until one night he shows up at her door & lays his cards out, they have a heated argument but then it turned into into something else quite heated😘 and as bad as it was that she cheated she doesn’t regret it, he’s all she’s ever wanted anyway

Why Didn’t You Say Anything?

A/N: contains SMUT. DNI if under 18. 18+ ONLY. Trigger warning: rough CONSENSUAL sex. I hope you like this. I’m sorry it took WAY too long to get around to finishing but I was having a lot of issues finding inspiration for requests. I’ve found it again though so expect more to come. As always, I love feedback and much love. - Em

Montgomery and I had been friends since… well since forever. As long as I could remember anyway. He was a quiet kid. Kept to himself for the most part when we were younger. I wouldn’t come to find out why exactly that was until much later on in our friendship. We bonded over a love of the same candy. It sounds stupid thinking back on it now, but at the time we were just kids. We didn’t really know how to have interests yet.

Eventually, as we got older and we developed our things, we found that even though our interests didn’t really match the way people thought they should-I was a novice musician, he was on his way to being a star athlete- we bonded over our passion and drive for our respective things. He would come over to my house and watch me teach myself to play guitar, play piano, or sing. I would meet him in the park and play catch when he discovered a love of baseball. Or when we started middle school and he would try to teach me how to throw a football. That… never went very well. But he was pretty good at catching it regardless as it turned out, so it worked out in the end.

Our friendship started to change around middle school too. It wasn’t noticeable at first. He started spending more and more time at my place. By then I had learned what his father was like behind closed doors. That had been an interesting phone call to my mom to come get me. Our conversations became even longer and more personal. We talked about our hopes and dreams. Where we wanted to end up when we were finally adults. The running thing was that no matter what we wanted to be when we grew up that week, we were always staples in each other’s futures. I started to seek him out at lunch more. I felt this desire to be near him that I couldn’t explain. Or maybe I could, and I just didn’t want to, for fear of being rejected and losing my best friend.

In high school, when we made different friends and traveled in different circles, we were still best friends. We had always been basically inseparable. Montgomery and Juliette. Julie and Monty. Where you saw one of us, you usually found the other. I waited for him after football and baseball tryouts and my dad made waffles for dinner when he made the team. There was a seat basically reserved for me at games since freshman year. I only missed two games in three and a half years. Once when I had strep throat in sophomore year and once when my uncle died last year. Monty didn’t want to go to that week’s game. I told him if he didn’t, I would never play piano for him again. For his part, Monty sat through countless hours of me learning songs or listening to tons of voice memos while I was writing my own. He was at every one of my gigs, no matter how big or small. It didn’t matter if there was ten people or a hundred people, he was always there, sitting in the first or second row. Even Bryce Walker couldn’t come between us.

I couldn’t help but feel like there was something more than friendship between us. I was still too afraid of rejection to say anything and he never said anything either. Other people had always made comments about our friendship and how close we were. But we both just laughed it off and attributed it to people not understanding that guys and girls could just be friends. When we were in junior year and it became clear to me that the feelings I had ignored and buried for so long, weren’t reciprocated, I decided it was time to move on. There was no point in pining after someone who didn’t want me back. And as luck would have it, the perfect person to get my mind off of my best friend had just moved to town and was assigned as my chemistry lab partner.

Parker Johnston was an average height, thin but lean, young man from Ohio. He had shaggy blond hair and cobalt blue eyes. He came from a stable, well off family, but he wasn’t a show-off about it. His parents were mortgage brokers who wanted to work in, but not live in the city. Essentially, he was everything Montgomery de la Cruz… wasn’t. He did still like sports though. They have that to bond over. I thought after my first conversation with him after chemistry. I invited him to have lunch with us. The guys on the football team liked him. Even Monty was nice to him. Though, at that point, none of us knew what would become of Parker and I hanging out.

“I don’t know Monty. We are just going for burgers at Rosie’s. It’s not like I’m going to marry the guy.” I was on the phone with Monty while I got ready for my first date with Parker. We had been hanging out as friends for seven months or so. Over the summer, we had connected more and found we had more than just a mutual dislike of our chemistry teacher in common.

“Well, what do you think will happen?”

“On our date? Or are you asking if I’ve thought far enough ahead to actually consider if we are getting married? Because I haven’t thought further ahead than my math test next Friday.”

“On your date.”

“I think I will have my usual cheeseburger with pink lemonade, and we will talk. Maybe split a milkshake for dessert. Green or grey shirt?”

“Is it the green with polka dots?”

“No, the plain army green one.”

“Grey. The green one gives you too much cleavage. A cheeseburger and lemonade? That’s it?”

“He’s seen me in the green one before, and no it doesn’t, but whatever. Yes Monty. That’s it. Why do you care so much, anyway?”

“I don’t. Just want to know what you’re planning. Make sure you’re safe.” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, I appreciate your concern.”

“Anytime. Are you coming to the game on Friday? It’s our second home game. First game of October. You know how you love fall games.”

“Of course, I’m coming. It’s not like I have a choice anymore, you guys are stuck with me.” I joked.

“Haha very funny Julie.”

“I try. Hey, listen. I gotta go. Parker will be here soon. I’ll call you when I get home.”

Our first date was going great. We had been to Rosie’s before together, but it was different now that we were on a date. We were there for hours, just sitting and talking to each other. Monty texted me around eight, just to check in. You still out or do I need to call the cops?

I’m still here. All good. He left me on read. I assumed it was because I was still out. “Everything okay?” Parker asked when he got back from the bathroom.

“Oh, yeah. Just Monty checking in.”

“Fair, fair. I guess that’s my cue to take you home for the night?”

“I suppose so.” Even though we had verbalized the need to leave, neither of us moved to leave.

“One more order of fries?”

“Yes.” After our last order, Parker drove me home and I called Monty to spill all the details as I got ready for bed.

The following Friday, Parker and I went to the game together. It was the first time we were going together just the two of us, and not with a group of friends. As far as high school football games go, this one was pretty standard. We held hands through most of it. Bryce’s parents were out of town again, so he was having a “we lost but I have money so let’s all get wasted” party. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot? Or did you want to just meet at Bryce’s place? I have to go talk to Monty.”

“We can meet at his place if you want.” He looked confused.

“It’s tradition. I always wait for him. I have since freshman year.”

“Oh, okay then. I’ll see you at Bryce’s place Jules.” He kissed me. I smiled into it before pulling away. I watched him turn and walk down the bleacher steps and turn towards the parking lot before running off to find Monty.

I spotted him talking to Luke and Scott. His back was turned to me. They saw me coming but didn’t react. They know me so well now. They know exactly what is coming. I smiled playfully before wrapping my arms around Monty’s waist tightly. He laughed and pried my hands off of him, before turning around and lifting me up in a hug. I didn’t even complain about the sweat. “You know that doesn’t surprise me anymore Julie.”

“I know. But it’s fun.” He was still holding me. “Are you going to like… put me down at some point?”

He turned back around to face Luke and Scott. They were shaking their heads, grinning. “Nah.” He decided.

“Well. I don’t need to see inside the boy’s locker room so you put me down outside.”

“What, you mean you don’t want to see a whole lot of Brycey’s pasty white ass?” Luke teased.

“No. No I do not. Every day I don’t see that is a good day for me. And since you are hell bent on carrying me, can I at least be comfortable? My legs are just dangling here.” Monty stopped walking so I could wrap my legs around his waist like a backwards piggyback ride. His hands went under my thighs to support my weight.

Thankfully, he put me down outside the boy’s locker room. I played around on my phone while I waited for him. “You know, I smell like sweat now.” I said when he came out, freshly showered and changed. He shook his head and smirked.

“I don’t see that as a bad thing.”

��Dude. I smell like your sweat.” He rolled his eyes and stopped to dig around in his bag. He pulled out one of my t-shirts. It was a little wrinkled but still presentable. I took it when he handed it to me. “Thank you. I’ve been looking for this. How long have you had it?”

“A while.” He shrugged. I ran into the girl’s room to change. I handed him my other shirt.

“Since it’s your sweat, you can wash it.”

“You know, you never used to complain about smelling like sweat after a game.”

“Well, I didn’t have a boyfriend who would care then.”

“Juliette, you didn’t have boyfriend period.”

“You say like you’ve had a girlfriend.”

“Oh, shut up.” He pushed me playfully.

“You know. How the hell did we get to our senior year of high school and neither one of us has actually dated anyone? Tyler Down has been on dates.”

“You’ve been on dates before.”

“Yeah. but it was never anything worth getting past the end of date three. And I wouldn’t call what happens in bedrooms or bathrooms at parties, dating. You’ve been on dates too.”

“I mean, sure. But they weren’t serious.” We had made it to the parking lot now. “I’ll see you at Bryce’s?”

“Yeah. I’m meeting Parker there.”

“Awesome.” I hugged him again before sprinting to my car.

The party was in full swing by the time I arrived. I had run to Walplex to grab a bottle of Advil on the way. Monty’s Jeep was parked out front and I spotted Parker’s Ram was parked up the road a little ways. I parked in an open spot and made my way past the people milling in the front. “Julie!” Bryce called, raising his beer in my direction.

“Bryce!”

“Hey Monty, your girl is here.”

“Not my girl Bryce.” Monty laughed as he handed me a drink.

“How many has he had already?” I whispered.

“Two.” I blinked slowly.

“So, is this Bryce in a good mood?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

“Hey Jules.” Parker snaked his arms around my waist and kissed my head. “Hey Monty.”

“Hey. Parker.”

“Oh, shit you’re right. She’s his girl now.”

“Fuck off Bryce.” I teased. Monty was looking at Parker and I with his brow furrowed. I mouthed later to him.

The three of us moved through the party easily. Monty and Parker talked about the game. I tuned them out. I was too busy watching them. It was nice to see my boyfriend and my best friend getting along so well. Maybe that was why I never dated much before. I was scared they wouldn’t get along. Soon enough, Scott pulled Parker away to chat. “Go ahead. I’m good here with Monty.”

“You sure?” I nodded, placing my hand on his arm.

“Just don’t steal him for too long Reed.” I kissed him on the cheek. Scott nodded. When they were out of earshot, Monty spoke.

“You didn’t tell him you hate being called Jules?”

“It’s cute when he does it.”

“Julie. I saw your face when he said it. Your eye twitched.”

“Muscle spasm.”

“Mhmm. Sure.” I caught Scott’s eye from across the room. He nodded slightly to me. I took that to mean I should hear what they were talking about.

“Oh, would you look at that. My cup is empty. Time for another drink. Refill?” I took his cup anyway and he followed me into the kitchen.

While I was refilling our cups, Monty’s with beer and mine with a Crown and Sprite, I listened in on their conversation. Monty tried to hide it but I knew he was listening too. We whispered nothings to each other to make it seem like we weren’t eavesdropping. “So what exactly is their relationship then?” Parker asked. He’s asking about me and Monty.

“They’ve been best friends for as long as anyone can remember. There isn’t anything more to it.”

“They seem to spend a lot of time together.”

“Like I said, they’re best friends. And I don’t think I’m the person you need to be having this discussion with.”

“You know them best. Do I need to be concerned?”

“What? No, of course not. Look. She’s never really dated anyone before. It’s always just been the two of them. You have been seeing Julie for a week officially. It’s going to take some time for that relationship to change. Just leave it alone for now. And Monty is a good guy. He’s an asshole. But he’s a good guy. If he wanted to make a move, he wouldn’t do it now. Not knowing that she is in a relationship. You really should talk to Julie about this though.”

“I will. I just wanted to get a little bit of insight from someone else first. Thanks man.”

“No problem.”

Parker did that guy handshake thing with Scott and started walking in our direction. My eyes widened. Monty just smirked and mouthed math test to me.

“Anyway, yeah. That math test was totally brutal.”

“I’m sure you did great.”

“I’m literally eighty percent sure I failed. Mind you, so is everyone else.”

“I have it on Monday so thanks for the heads up. Oh, hey Parker.”

“Hey guys. What’s on Monday?”

“Math test that ruined my entire class.”

“Damn.” I put my arm around Parker’s waist and leaned into him.

Monty was scanning the room. To Parker, he was just looking at the crowd. But I was familiar with that look. He was on the hunt. I pulled Parker away discreetly so we could be alone and he could seem available. Monty nodded and smirked at us. Fuck off you little shit. I stuck my tongue out at him and Parker rolled his eyes. We managed to find a quiet corner that was unoccupied. “So, your drink is Crown and Sprite. You hate math. You don’t like chemistry. You like extra lettuce on your cheeseburger. We’ve been friends for months and I never really noticed any of that.”

“You like vodka in your iced tea. But your drink is whisky and Coke. You hate history. You also don’t like chemistry. You get tomatoes on the side of your burgers. I think you knew all of that about me. It just didn’t matter before.”

“That makes sense.” I laid my head on his shoulder and we sat together like that for a while. We were still getting used to the change in our relationship.

I looked up from my lap and caught Monty’s eye across the room. He had a girl in his sights. I nodded to him. He smiled, thinking no one else would see. The smile he reserved for me. Before he went to talk to whatever girl he would have under his spell and realistically, him in less than twenty minutes, he came over to us. “I’m probably going to be busy for the rest of the night, so will you make sure she gets home okay?”

“Yeah. No problem.” Monty turned to me and gave me a pleading look.

“Dude. Again? Seriously?”

“I didn’t have time to stop on the way over.” He shrugged, acting innocent.

“One of these days I won’t be here. Or I’ll leave my wallet at home. Or I won’t be carrying. What are you going to do then?”

“That isn’t a right now problem. Now do you, or don’t you?”

“I do. Calm down.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Parker was watching our interaction with a puzzled look on his face. I pulled out the square silver packet and handed it to him. Monty accepted it gratefully.

“Thank you. You are a life saver.”

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret in the morning, Montgomery.”

“Never do, Juliette.”

“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I make no promises.” I sighed deeply. Of course, you don’t. Monty waved at us again and ran off to go make a move on whatever girl it was this time.

I looked at Parker and he was staring at me with wide eyes. “What?”

“You carry condoms around for him?”

“No. I carry them around for me. And if he needs one, then I give it to him.”

“But why?”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he’s kind of a whore. He is my best friend, but the man is a whore. I’d rather give him a condom than take him to get tested or become a cool aunt. I’m too young for that.”

“What if you needed it?”

“Will I need it? Because I wasn’t exactly planning on needing it.”

“I don’t know. You never know.”

“Well, if that’s the case, I have a whole box at home anyway. I don’t plan on using any tonight though.”

“I wasn’t either.”

“If it makes you feel better, I can start carrying two. Also, I put a fresh one in my wallet every morning so it’s not like they’re sitting.” He only nodded in understanding. Monty was right. I didn’t see him for the rest of the night. He texted me later that he was crashing at Bryce’s.

A few weeks after that party, things with Monty and I were the same as they always were. Parker never brought up his conversation with Scott. I attributed it to seeing us around each other and Parker being comfortable with the status of our relationship. We were getting home from a coffee date. “My parents are working late if you want to come inside. My mom has a double at the hospital.”

“Sure.” He slipped his hand in my back pocket when I was unlocking the door. I blushed. Inside, I dropped my purse on the kitchen counter. He draped his coat over a chair and sat down. I was digging through the cabinets for a snack when he surprised me with a question.

“What’s going on with you and Monty?”

“Uh.” I paused because he caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just how you guys act with each other. I never noticed it before. Or I did and thought it would stop after we got together.”

“I don’t understand the question?”

“Do I need to be concerned about your relationship with him, Juliette?”

“No. Not at all. Monty is the last person you need to concern yourself with. It’s never been like that with us.”

“So, you just flirt with each other and finish each other’s sentences for no reason?”

“Okay, first of all, we do not flirt with each other. Second of all, we have been best friends since we were in elementary. Which means we know things about each other.” I was walking back to the table with a bowl of M&Ms. Placing it on the table, I sat in his lap gently. He wrapped his arms around me.

“You carry condoms around in your wallet and give him one whenever he wants.”

“I already told you why I carry them Parker.” I rested my head on his shoulder.

“You’re sure there’s never been anything between you guys?” Nothing reciprocated.

“I promise there has never anything between us. He really isn’t a concern that way Parker.” I kissed his neck softly. It was barely a brush of my lips against his skin.

“Do you still have that box?”

“Mhmmm.” He stood me up and grasped my hand.

“Lead the way Jules.”

The next day, I woke up alone. Parker had snuck out after a little bit of cuddling, so my parents didn’t find him here. I stared up at my ceiling for a few minutes. It was different with him. It means something. Maybe that’s what I needed to get Monty out of my system. Maybe it had to mean something. I groaned when my alarm went off again. Reluctantly, I got up and got ready to go to school. My dad had already left for work again. I texted Parker and Monty before I left. Stopping for coffee if you want anything.

Parker answered first. I’m good, thanks though babe.

Monty answered a few minutes later. Since you offered, my usual?

Gotcha. See you at school.

Coffees in hand, I pulled up to school. Parker was waiting for me just outside the parking lot. “Hey you.” He kissed me. We were walking to my locker when he saw the second coffee, he continued, “I said I didn’t want anything.”

“Oh. This isn’t for you. It’s for Monty.”

“Ah, yes.”

“We talked about this last night Park.”

“I know. That’s not all we did last night.” He muttered, leaning in to kiss my neck.

“Yeah. Last night was pretty great.” I smiled.

“What about last night?” Monty asked, scaring me a little.

“Jesus Monty. I need to buy you a bell or something. Why do you have to be the only guy at this school whose shoes don’t squeak?” I turned and stuck out his coffee.

“Parker’s don’t squeak.” I rolled my eyes. As though he could snese that I wanted to talk to Monty alone, he made a quick exit.

“I’ll catch you at lunch Jules.”

“Okay. Save some cheese for me.” Parker kissed me before walking away.

“So, what about last night?” Monty asked again after Parker left. I was quiet and blushed deeply. “Julie, what happened?”

“Homerun.”

“Shit. Seriously?”

“Yeah. It was good. Nice.”

“That… that’s great.” I didn’t notice the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes or that he stammered.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Uh, yeah. I have a couple of things to do for Coach, but I should be able to make at least a little bit of lunch.”

“Okay.”

I fully expected my relationship with Parker to change after that night. But I never expected that night would cause my relationship with Montgomery change too. It seemed like the closer I got to Parker the more distant Monty became. At first, it was little things. He had stuff to do with the guys or for sports stuff at lunches. Or he had things to do after practice. He wouldn’t stop to talk as long in the halls with me. If his dad was on another tear, I would find out about it the next day at school instead of that night. He brushed it off when I asked him about it. “I don’t want to seem like more of a burden. I have other places I can crash too,” he had said. For some reason, I believed him. I didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t the first time he had taken a break from always coming to my place. I didn’t think it would be the last time.

But then, as the days and weeks passed, our relationship became even more strained. He had stopped waiting for me after games. He had all but stopped talking to me at school. My texts were left on read for hours, whereas before, he would answer me within minutes. What had initially been dubbed a ‘break’ from seeking refuge at my house, had become a full out ending. One Monday, when I got to school his cheek was stitched closed. I stopped dead in my tracks and covered my mouth in shock. Upon closer inspection when I passed, it looked like it was stitched with sewing thread. Why didn’t he come to me? He knows my mom keeps a suture kit in the first aid kit. He all but looked through me when he caught me looking. If he saw me coming now, he walked in the other direction. For the first time, my best friend was literally all out ignoring me. I didn’t know what to do. So, I tried to do the same. If he wants to ignore me, then two can play at that game. We pretended the other person didn’t exist.

“Hey, are you okay?” Parker asked me when we were sitting on the couch watching tv.

“Yeah.” I was scrolling through my phone.

“You haven’t looked up from your phone for an entire episode.”

“Huh? Has it been that long?”

“Yes. What are you looking at?” I was scrolling through my texts with Montgomery. The last time we had texted each other was three weeks ago. Before then, the last time we went longer than two days not texting each other was when I was at summer camp and we weren’t allowed to have our phones for a week. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong or what made our relationship change. Parker took my phone from me and closed out of messages when he saw what I was looking at. “If he doesn’t want to talk to you because you have a boyfriend, that’s his problem.”

“That’s not why Parker.”

“How do you know?”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Would he?

“How do you know he wouldn’t, Jules?”

“We promised each other a long time ago that we wouldn’t be those people.”

“Those people?”

“The people who stopped talking when one of us got into a relationship. We promised.”

“Okay, well if you promised then I’m probably wrong.” He sounded skeptical.

“We promised.” I muttered. Parker pulled me closer and held me while I tried to focus on our show.

I was sitting cross legged on the couch playing I Almost Do on my guitar while I listened to the rain hitting the roof. The old Disney World sweatshirt I was wearing helped me to stay warm, even though the heat was on. As I finished the bridge, there was a knock at the door. I’m not expecting anyone. Maybe its Parker swinging by to keep me company. I set my guitar down on the coffee table and went to answer the door when there was another, more impatient knock. “I’m coming, keep your pants on.” I muttered under my breath. Yanking open the door I felt my jaw hit the floor. “Monty.” I breathed. He was soaked. His hair fell on his forehead and I could tell the flannel he wore was soaked through.

“Hey.” Was all he said. I blinked at him slowly. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah come in.” I said, moving out of the way while I tried to figure out what he was doing here. “Did you like… walk here or something?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

“No. Trust you not to wear a jacket in the pouring rain though.” He didn’t respond. He just looked around the living room. Okay. This isn’t weird and awkward at all. “What are you doing here Montgomery?”

“I thought about what I wanted to say to you the whole way here. And now that I’m here….”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have some stuff I need to say to you Julie.”

“Oh okay. Now you want to talk to me. Right.” I crossed my arms.

“Can you just let me say what I need to say?”

“Why? I mean, you’ve been avoiding me like the fucking plague for weeks Montgomery. Why should I listen to what you have to say?”

“Because it’s important Juliette.”

“Fine. Speak.” This better be good.

“I don’t know how to say this. I literally had this all planned out in my head on the way here.” He began. I remained silent. “I get that you’re mad at me for avoiding you, but I have reasons for it. And I need you to understand that it hasn’t been easy for me. You’re one of my closest friends.” I let out a dry, unamused laugh. Sure. You just avoid all of your friends. Totally normal behaviour for you. Monty sighed before continuing, “I couldn’t sit around and watch you with Parker. I tried. Believe me. I fucking tried. I tried being happy for you and I tried being friends with him. I tried to ignore everything in me that was screaming to just walk away. But I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to walk away for both of our sakes. It wasn’t fair to you for me to be half out of our friendship and it wasn’t fair to me to have to keep everything in. It wasn’t healthy.”

“So, you couldn’t be friends with me, or say anything about why you were suddenly shutting me out, because I have a boyfriend? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. And we promised we wouldn’t be those people.”

“Oh, for fucks-. No Juliette. I couldn’t be friends with you because I’ve been in love with you for four years.”

My eyes widened at his revelation and I felt the colour drain from my face. What? I couldn’t think of anything else to do except laugh. “Yeah, sure you are Monty. That’s rich.”

“You think I would joke about that? You know me Julie.”

“No. I think if you did love me, you would have had the balls to fucking say something about it before I got into a relationship. Or at the very least, to not act like a fuckin’ child when I did get into a relationship.”

“When exactly would I have told you? Somewhere between when you were worrying about your friends and when you were pining after Parker?”

“Yes. Parker and I were friends with each other for months before we started dating. At any of those times, you could have put on your big boy pants and fucking said something about how you felt.”

“That’s nice that you think that. Do you think I would walk halfway across town in the pouring rain for someone I wasn’t in love with? Seriously Juliette?”

“Maybe.” I replied. I was still angry with him, but he did have a point. “It doesn’t matter. You waited too long. I’m with Parker now.” He scoffed. I hadn’t realized how close he had gotten to me until now.

“Doesn’t matter? Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel it. Tell me you don’t feel the fluttering or the warmth when we are together. And then tell me that what you feel with Parker is anything close to that.”

“I-I-I….” I started, trying to meet his hardened gaze.

“You can’t can you?” My silence spoke volumes. “Tell me you don’t want this.” He whispered, as he caressed my cheek. I couldn’t tell him that. And I couldn’t pull away. I couldn’t do anything to stop him. For the first time, I had allowed myself to consider the feelings I had buried down deep for so long. I opened the box in my heart labeled danger, and damn it felt good. I reached up and tapped his arm quickly, twice. Our silent ‘okay’ signal when we couldn’t speak. He immediately kissed me hungrily and backed me against the nearest wall. My hands immediately went to his belt and began to tug at it, in a heated attempt to undo it. He nipped at my lip sharply and I growled lowly from the back of my throat. Giving up on the fickle strip of leather, I began to fight with his still wet shirt. The flannel stuck to the cotton of his t-shirt more and more with every tug. Abandoning the idea of removing them separately, I grabbed the bottom of his shirts together and pulled up harshly. All the while, his lips never left mine. The only time they did was to give me the space to pull off his tops. His eyes had darkened at least two shades as he stood in front of me. I felt my pupils dilate again as I reached out for him. He was on me in seconds. The feeling of him tugging at my sweater, now sightly damp from his clothes, as though I was a prize he couldn’t wait to tear into, stirred something inside of me. The primal aggressiveness and the slow burning, ever present tension of the situation making any consequences of our actions, seem totally irrelevant. He managed to remove my shirt with far fewer struggles than I did and began attacking my neck, leaving wet kisses and stinging nips down one side and then the other. Once again, I tried my hand at undoing his belt again. This time, I was able to. Quickly undoing it, I pulled it through the loops of his dark jeans and went for the button. He placed his hand on mine to stop me. I looked at him questioningly.

“What?” I asked, breathlessly.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this in your living room.” He said, panting. I nodded in agreement and suddenly, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.

“Monty!” I exclaimed, taken by surprise. He merely tightened his grip on my waist as he walked through the house to my room in the basement.

In my dark room, only illuminated by the dim pink-red glow of the salt lamp on my nightstand, he strode towards my bed and dropped me on my back. I reached out to him as he took a step back from the bed. “Get back here.” I demanded. He chuckled and shook his head.

“No. Nuh uh. I’ve waited far too long for this moment.” He smirked, devilishly. I groaned in displeasure at him. His smirk widened.

Deciding it was time to take matters into my own hands again, I sat up and slid off my bed. Taking my place on my knees in front of him, I reached up and undid the button and zipper on his jeans. He made no move to stop me as I dropped to my knees and pulled the denim harshly. They fell in a pool at his feet and I sat back on my heels as I stared at the bulge in his boxers. I growled lowly in the back of my throat and reached for the waistband of his boxers. Pulling them down, I watched his cock spring free and whined unconsciously. My movements were suddenly timid as I reached for it. It wasn’t my first time by any means. But it felt different this time. This time it was with Monty. And you have a boyfriend who isn’t Monty. Oh, shut up and let me enjoy this. I’ll deal with the consequences later. Grasping his thick, heavy cock in my hand, I stroked it softly. This was so wrong, yet it felt so wonderfully right.

My strokes changed as I gained more confidence and was able to push away any intrusive thoughts about Parker. They were faster and I tightened my grip slightly. Montgomery let out a sharp breath when my ring fingernail caught a bit of skin. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re excited. Just remember we have all night Julie.”

“I know.” His hips started to buck a little bit and my mouth began to water.

“We have plenty of time for that later.” I groaned a little. “Look at me.” I looked up at him through my lashes. “I promise you can after I fuck you into your mattress.” My eyes widened as big as saucers. We went from five to a hundred real quick. Fucking hot though.

Monty took my bicep in his hand to pull me up before pushing me back down on the bed roughly. I gasped in shock. I sat up on my elbows and watched him unbutton and rip open the zipper on my jeans. He pulled them down with a little help from me. He took a very brief second to admire my mint underwear before pulling them off and chucking them across my room. I sat up to undo and remove my pink bralette. A low growl came from deep in his chest when my breasts were out in the open and I was naked. His eyes scanned my body hungrily. My own dark eyes admired his naked body. I grabbed his arm to pull him down towards me.

“There is so much I want to do to you, but it will have to wait until later.” He whispered in my ear, biting at my earlobe. He bit and sucked his way down my neck, easily pulling loud moans out of me. There were sure to be marks all over my neck in the morning. Consequences be damned.

“Later, yes.” I panted. I could feel his hard length against my thigh. I rutted my hips against his. He kissed me passionately. When his hand trailed down my body, I knew his intentions. “No time. Just do it. Need it.” He stilled. The passion and tension were still in the air but there was a slight shift.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yes. Just be quick about it and it’ll be fine.” I stuck out my pinky. He linked his with mine.

“If you need me to stop and adjust, just say so.”

“I will.” I nodded, trying to edge him along. Just hurry the hell up and do it.

Monty straightened up and pulled my hips closer to the edge of the bed. I shut my eyes as he lined his cock up with my entrance. No matter how ready I was and how much I wanted it, it was still a reflex. I barely felt the tip, but I knew more was coming. He held my hands in his, interlocking our fingers as he pushed further. The stretch stung a little. He was bigger than Parker and without taking the time to prepare me, it burned slightly. I whimpered softly and he stilled immediately. Only about half was inside of me. “No, no keep going. Please.” I begged.

“I don’t want to hurt you Juliette.”

“Montgomery. I need you to do it. It hurts more if you stop. Please just do it. You can give me time to adjust after.” I told him seriously, staring into his eyes.

“Okay. Deep breath.” I sucked in a big breath and let it out as he quickly thrust the rest of his cock into me. I yelped sharply and he stilled again. I felt him go to pull out and growled harshly at him.

“Don’t you dare. Just give me a second.” He nodded and stayed still, allowing me time to adjust to his size.

After a minute or so, I was ready. The pain had dissipated for the most part. I felt like we could keep going. “Okay.” I nodded. His thrusts were slow and shallow at first. The more he did it, the more comfortable it became. When my moans grew louder, his thrusting became faster. He was fucking me hard and fast. Quite literally fucking me into the mattress. I tried to match him thrust for thrust. It was sloppy at first, but soon enough, we had a good rhythm going. He leaned down more, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. His cock was buried deeper in me and I screamed. He was moaning and grunting softly in my ear. I let go of his hands and wrapped my arms around his back. Dragging my nails down, I scratched him from his shoulder blades all the way down to his mid to low back.

“Jesus Christ.” He spat out. I smirked and dug my nails into his back. He nipped my collar bone. I was panting and I could feel my core tightening. “Fuck. You are so fucking tight.” Monty stood straight again and hooked one of my legs over his shoulder. The changed angle felt like magic. My moans had become whimpers again. I bit my bottom lip to keep from screaming once again. He used his right hand to rub my clit harshly while his left steadied the leg on his shoulder. I couldn’t hold a scream in after that. His thrusts were starting to get sloppy just as I had begun to fall over the edge. My orgasm hit me like a freight train. My entire body shook. I groaned when I felt his own orgasm hit. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside of me was exquisite. Thank God for birth control and regular testing. Monty pulled out of me gently and half fell, half laid down onto my bed beside me. He was panting harshly. So was I.

“Fuck me.” I muttered.

“I just did.” He panted. I groaned, unable to find the energy to flip him off or move or make an actual noise in response. After a couple of minutes, he stood and put his boxers back on. I hadn’t moved. He walked to the bathroom across the hall, and I heard the water running. Back in my room, he gently wiped me clean with a warm washcloth. It felt very nice on my sensitive folds. I groaned again. Once I was wiped clean, he climbed on the bed again and pulled me close. I snuggled against his chest.

I woke up in Montgomery’s strong arms the next morning. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I groaned softly. Monty stirred behind me. I leaned into him. He sighed. “Half of me thought last night was a really hot dream.” He mumbled sleepily.

“It wasn’t.” I yawned. We rolled onto our backs and I stared at the ceiling. We were quiet for a time. I was processing what happened last night. I cheated on Parker. With the one person…. The one person what? I told him not to worry about? I mean, yeah. But if that was the reason, I would have regretted it as soon as we were done. Oh shit. What does this mean for our friendship?

“Do you regret it?” I paused before answering. I knew the answer already but what would it say about me if I answered him immediately?

“No. Do you?”

“Not a bit.”

“What does this mean? What are we supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell you what to do. But if I were you, I would break up with Parker.”

“That would be the kind thing to do.”

“Yes.”

“Did… did you mean what you said last night?”

“About you?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it kind of obvious?” He motioned between the two of us. I laughed.

“I just wanted to confirm.” Monty chuckled and turned to kiss my temple.

“Does this mean,” I paused again, “was this just to get it out of our systems? Or do you want more?”

“I want more if you want more. I’d also be down for another round.” I sat up a little and pulled the sheet around my chest to look at him. He was smirking wider than I had seen him smirk in a long time.

“I think I would like more. And as for another round, I think I need to talk to Parker first before this goes any further.” He considered that for a moment.

“That’s fair. I can respect that.” We were quiet again. He’s all you’ve ever really wanted anyway.

#montgomery de la cruz #monty imagine #montgomery de la cruz imagine #monty de la cruz fanfic #monty x oc #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x reader #13 reasons why #montgomery de la cruz x oc #smut #13 rw #thirteen reasons why #fanfiction #fanfic #writeblr #creative writing #feeback #requested

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marwritesgood · 4 years ago

Text

Rewrite | M. Martinez

Pairing: Mario x Diaz!Reader

Timeframe: Season 3

Summary: As life with their newborn becomes increasingly difficult, Mario and Y/n stop seeing each other eye-to-eye (and other stuff happens).

masterlist

A/N: (This is one of the longest things I’ve ever written (I actually had to cut it down and group some paragraphs together bc it exceeded the limit), but I couldn’t help myself. I really enjoyed exploring the dynamics between the characters and all the themes that came with it. To keep it from dragging on, I condensed the canon timeline and changed some details around - hopefully it’s easy to keep up with x

It had been a month since the birth of my and Mario’s son, Manuel. What I had expected to be the beginning of the happiest chapter of my life turned out to be quite the opposite. And it had nothing to do with the people around me or my son.

Mario’s family were so supportive of us. Abuelita insisted we stay with her until we had the funds to get a place of our own. Both her and Geny were constantly offering to babysit Manuel, which I took up almost all the time, much to Mario’s dismay. Even Oscar tried to pull money together every other week to help us out. I should have been nailing this whole motherhood thing in theory because I had so much support from everyone I loved. In reality, however, I was struggling to get by.

“And you’re sure you fed him before you left for work?” I was on the phone with Mario as I pulled up at Oscar’s house. When it came to getting out and taking the buckles off Manuel’s car seat, I pressed my phone against my ear, using my shoulder. “The one I put on the counter, right?”

“Yes,” Mario replied, his aggravation vividly clear in his tone. I had to stop for a moment to try and keep myself from crying. I had been doing a lot of that lately at the worst times, and I couldn’t understand why. When I didn’t respond, Mario sighed loudly. “Look, babe, you can’t keep calling me when I’m at work... I’m new to the job, and I’m already on my boss’ bad side.”

I inhaled sharply. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, trying to control the way my voice sounded so Mario wouldn’t be any more concerned about me than he already was.

“... I’ll see you when I finish, okay?”

After a short moment, he hung up, and I put my phone in my back pocket, thinking back to the times where he would never end a call without telling me he loved me. I didn’t know if it was because he genuinely didn’t catch on, or he was too eager to leave the conversation, but I needed that reminder now more than ever.

I slung my bag over my shoulder before picking up Manuel’s car seat, where he was fast asleep. After closing and locking the car I was borrowing off of Abuelita, I headed inside Oscar’s house. I hated the days where I was left alone with my son. The days where no one was around to take him off my hands. So on days like these, I would go to Oscar’s house and spend the day there, just so I wouldn’t be left alone with Manuel.

“He sleeping?” Oscar asked after he heard me come in. His back was turned against me, and he was facing the counter where he was making two cups of coffee for both of us.

“Yeah,” I answered, exasperated from carrying my son and my belongings inside. After putting Manuel, who slept quietly in his seat, down on the couch, I joined Oscar, who smiled at the sight of my son sleeping soundly.

“How you been?” Oscar asked, nodding at me as he pushed a mug of coffee in my direction. I hummed as I lifted it up and took a sip. I couldn’t drink coffee as often as I liked since I was breastfeeding, but I saved the few times I did when I went to Oscar’s. He made it the best.

“Good,” I answered, without even pausing to think. Oscar shifted his attention to me and watched as I fiddled with the handle on my mug. I knew he wanted to pry. He wanted to ask me more and more questions until I finally gave him a truthful answer, but I wasn’t ready for that. Fortunately for me, before he could say anything else, Cesar came bursting through the front door, throwing his bag on the ground before approaching Oscar. I held the handle of my mug tightly as I watched him speak.

“There’s a dude posted up outside.”

Oscar got up instantly and walked outside, his gun in his hand, ready to be fired. Cesar followed him, trying to stand next to him as he approached the guy across the street, only to be pushed behind by Oscar. I took the opportunity to peek through the sheets of tin foil Oscar had covering the windows. After squinting my eyes to try and make out the man standing on the other side of the street, a duffle bag by his feet with an oddly familiar stance, I began to piece together who it was.

My father.

Before my brothers could make their way back inside, I took Manuel into my old room, which Oscar left untouched since I had moved out after giving birth. I could faintly make out the sound of their conversation in the living room area, so I took my time putting Manuel and my bag down. When I finally made my way back to where my family were seated, I could see the tension between all of them. My dad and Cesar looked up at me when I walked in, but Oscar remained glaring at Ray.

“Cesar, you need to get to school,” Oscar said flatly.

My little brother lifted his hands in annoyance and immediately looked at me. Often, when Oscar told him to do something he didn’t want to, he would turn to me in hopes that I would say the opposite. It was always that way, never vice versa. But, when it came to either one of our parents, I had to have Oscar’s back.

“Go,” I told him, and he reluctantly picked his bag off the floor. I took his spot on the couch and joined Oscar in, glaring at my dad. He looked no different from the last time he bothered to come around.

“You still in school?”

“I finished over a year ago,” I droned, wanting more than anything to take my son and leave, but I knew I couldn’t leave him alone with Oscar. Not to mention if I did leave, I would have no place to go but back to Abuelita’s place where I would be left alone with Manuel.

“College?”

“Are you kidding me?” I laughed dryly. Oscar shook his head.

My father inhaled slowly, his eyes scanning the room before landing on the corridor that leads to the bedrooms. I felt my heart begin to pound, fearing for where this conversation was heading.

“The baby you took to your room,” he began, confirming what I had already expected. I hadn’t done as good of a job at hiding Manuel as I thought. “... yours?”

I could see Oscar getting angrier and more aggravated by how he clenched his fists and his jaw. He was always protective of Cesar and me when it came to our dad, but it appeared to be tenfold with Manuel. I glanced over at my brother, but he was too busy glaring at Ray to notice. Sighing, I turned back to him and nodded. There was no point in hiding Manuel’s existence from him. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t still try and protect him.

“... The father?”

Ray hesitated before asking. I could tell that, while he was obviously curious to know, he was also cautious that he was digging too deep so suddenly. Oscar huffed, rubbing his hand over his facial hair, clearly annoyed. I felt indifferent.

“Mario Martinez.”

“Martinez?” He raised his eyebrows before pulling his blunt back towards his mouth. After exhaling slowly, releasing a cloud of smoke, he nodded, seemingly impressed. “... Good family.”

“I didn’t ask for your approval,” I scoffed before standing up and turning my back to him. I looked down at Oscar and signalled him to follow me into my old room to have a conversation outside of our father’s earshot.

Once he had followed me inside, I closed the door to ensure privacy before turning back to my son, who was thankfully still fast asleep. I began packing his things up as I spoke to Oscar.

“What are we gonna do?”

After gathering Manuel’s things, I brought the handlebar of his car seat up so I could be ready to take him to the car, through the backdoor, as soon as Oscar and I were finished discussing our next course of action.

“I don’t know,” Oscar sighed as he shoved his hands in his pockets. I sat on my old bed and looked up at him silently. After a moment, he looked back at me. “Cesar wants to... take him out for lunch tomorrow.”

The way Oscar explained, I could tell how immensely uncomfortable he was with the thought of it and with how eager Cesar was to reconcile his relationship with.

“Want me to go with them?” I asked.

He nodded.

I sighed but nodded back. As much as I wanted to avoid having a conversation with my father, let alone sit and have a meal with him, I couldn’t leave Cesar to meet him for lunch on his own. I couldn’t let him get too close and too vulnerable with Ray.

Oscar and I knew better than anyone how that would eventually end.

***

After leaving Oscar’s place, I noticed that Mario’s car was parked outside the building when I got home. Manuel had fallen asleep during the car trip, so I carried him in his car seat inside.

After I took him to his nursery and placed him in his cot, I went back into the kitchen area where Mario was grumbling as he did the dishes. It was getting late, so I assumed he was just tired.

I walked over and stood beside him so I could give him a hand, but he turned to me with furrowed brows before I could do so. My heart began to pound because I knew I had done something to upset him.

“You said you would do the dishes today,” he stated sharply. I sighed before dropping my head down. “It’s so late. Where the hell have you been?”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled before reaching past him so I could finish washing the rest of the dishes. I hoped that would be enough to defuse the tension, but Mario simply took a step to the side and continued to glare at me as he waited for an explanation. “- I was at Oscar’s, and I lost track of time. My-”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, the volume of his voice rising abruptly.

Whenever Mario and I fought, he was never the type to yell, no matter how angry he got. I always worried that I would end up pushing him over that edge one day, and it seemed like today was that day.

“Mario,” I whispered, slightly startled by how angry he was getting. There was obviously more to it than just me forgetting to do the dishes.

“I work so hard to support you and Manuel,” he began, his voice growing louder from what appeared to be frustration. “I asked you to do one thing.”

“I know, but-”

I was planning on leaving Oscar’s place early to make it back in time to get all the housework done. When my dad arrived out of the blue, it put a wrench in my plans. Mario cut me off before I could explain that to him.

“And what’s up with you calling me at work all the time?” His expression was saturated with anger. I wondered how long he had bottled up this resentment. “I thought you would be used to taking care of Manuel on your own by now.”

“I’m trying,” I cried in reply. I really was.

“Try harder,” he said in an icy tone, his expression becoming emotionless all of a sudden. I held my breath, trying to suppress my tears. “You shouldn’t be taking Manuel out so late... you need to start being a better mother.”

He turned around and walked into our shared room. Once I was sure he was out of earshot, I turned my attention back to the dishes I was cleaning, trying to keep myself distracted.

When I felt my tears beginning to pour out of my eyes, I knew it wasn’t working.

All of the insecurities I felt about being a new mother were beginning to surface. I wanted desperately to be everything Mario and Manuel needed me to be, but I just felt like I could never be able to do that. And it was killing me inside.

***

The following morning, I woke up extra early. I tried to get as much housework done as possible to give Manuel his second bottle for the day. Normally Mario would because I would be too exhausted too, and because it normally fell around the time, he was set to leave for work.

Since the night before, we hadn’t spoken to each other, so I thought doing that would be a step in the right direction for us. Apparently not.

“What are you doing?” Mario asked, startling me as I tested the temperature of Manuel’s milk on my wrist.

“I was gonna feed Manuel,” I explained.

“But I feed him his second bottle,” Mario said, anger and annoyance both prevalent in his tone and his expression.

“I know,” I replied calmly. This was appearing to have the opposite effect to what I hoped it would; Mario was seemingly getting angrier with me. “I just thought you might want a break from having to feed him this morning.”

“Looking after my son isn’t a burden, Y/n,” he retorted, his voice getting louder with each word he spoke. My eyes grew wide. I didn’t know whether to be startled or offended.

Was he insinuating that I made looking after Manuel seem like a burden?

“I never said that,” I responded.

Just as I finished speaking, the sound of Manuel’s cries sounded throughout the room. Mario turned back to me, holding his hand out so he could take the bottle and feed our son. Not wanting to argue with him, I reluctantly handed it over.

He left for work without saying goodbye to me, even though I stood in the kitchen and watched him go. Normally he would kiss me goodbye before leaving to go anywhere. I knew this was a testament to how angry he was.

Once it was nearing lunchtime, I took Manuel and dropped him off with Geny. When Abuelita saw me crying by the kitchen sink the night before, she sat me on her couch and consoled me. After I explained to her what happened with my dad, she called Geny. At first, she wanted to confront her son about how he spoke to me, but I talked her out of it. After that, she offered to watch Manuel for the afternoon while I went to lunch with Cesar and my dad.

Once I dropped Manuel off to her, I headed to Dwayne’s restaurant, where Cesar and our dad were seated at a booth. As I approached them, Ray sat up uncomfortably.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said as I took a seat next to Cesar, who immediately passed me his plate of fries. I turned to him and smiled, only to be met with a concerned expression.

“You okay?” He asked, knitting his eyebrows out of worry. I had forgotten I spent the night crying and that my eyes were slightly puffy.

“Yeah, I just didn’t get much sleep,” I answered a beat too quickly for Cesar to be convinced. Nonetheless, I knew he would look past it so he could continue catching up with our father.

“I was just telling Cesar how good it is he has a job,” my dad said, as he took a bite of the food Cesar undoubtedly got him with his employment perk.

“Yeah, Dwayne’s always been good to me,” Cesar explained, smiling nervously as he fiddled with his fingers. It was endearing and concerning the way he was so anxious he was acting like an overexcited child. “Even when things got hard.”

I placed my hand on him should and gripped it tightly. Cesar was one of the more emotional ones of the Diaz men, but that didn’t mean he was always upfront with how he felt.

“I heard about your mom,” our dad said, looking up at the two of us nervously. I stared blankly at him, trying my best not to glare, but I promised Cesar I wouldn’t be hostile at our lunch. “I should have reached out... I’m sorry.”

I looked over at Cesar, and I could tell he was trying his best to maintain his smile. I was the only person he had ever spoken to about our mom, but those conversations were infrequent and always emotional.

“You should try the char burger,” I said to our dad before sliding out of the booth, so Cesar could step out. “You’ll like it... Cesar, why don’t you go order one for him.”

He nodded before leaving so he could head towards the counter. I slid back into the booth and glared at my father.

“What’s your deal?” I asked angrily, annoyed that he would bring up such a painful memory for Cesar, let alone myself. “It’s not enough to traumatise us; you have to come back just to pour salt in our wounds?”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here, huh?” At that point, I was just as curious as I was angry. He had been in and out of prison for over a decade, yet the last time he bothered to stop by, Cesar wasn’t even old enough to form memories.

“I... I wanna patch things up,” he said.

It really took him over two decades to grow a conscience and make an effort in his children’s lives.

“Look,” I whispered before glancing up at Cesar, who was in the process of getting the char burger. I sighed. “Just... tread lightly for now, okay? Cesar wants to catch up with you, not relive his childhood trauma.”

Ray inhaled deeply before nodding. I felt protective over Cesar, but when it came to our parents, this was only heightened. I was not going to let my dad hurt him. Not on my watch. Once Cesar was approaching the table, I slid out so he could sit in his initial spot.

“Where’s Manuel, Y/n?” Cesar asked.

My breath hitched as it dawned on me that I forgot to ask Cesar not to bring him up in front of our dad. Once he mentioned him, however, I knew there was no going back.

“He’s with Geny,” I answered before taking a bite of my plate of fried. Ray watched me intently before speaking up again- exactly what I feared he would do.

“Is there any chance I could meet him?”

I had to physically and figuratively bite my tongue. As much as I wanted to respond snidely, I knew that would only damage my relationship with Cesar- who made me promise that I wouldn’t be hostile at that lunch.

“I’ll think about it,” I replied. Cesar’s expression didn’t seem to change, so I knew I had answered in a way that both kept the peace and ensured I could continue to control how much of a role my dad would have in my son’s life- which, if it were up to me, would be minuscule.

Just as the conversation headed towards a different, much safer direction, my phone began to vibrate.

After I excused myself from the table, I went outside the building and answered the call.

It was Mario.

“Why does my mom have Manuel?” His tone was accusatory and angry. That seemed to be the case for all of our conversations.

“I’m at lunch-“

“You left Manuel so you could go for lunch?!”

“It was important, Mario.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He was speaking so loudly, I had to hold my phone at a distance away from my ear. “What kind of a mother are you? What could be more important than our son?”

My breath hitched, but I tried to recover quickly. Nothing was more important to me than Manuel, but I needed Mario to know that I wasn’t avoiding my responsibilities as a mother for something trivial.

“I’m at lunch with my dad,” I explained, trying to speak as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t have the chance to interrupt.

“... You’re dad’s back in town?” I was relieved that he was calming down, finally understanding why I was too preoccupied to have Manuel with me at all times.

“Yes,” I answered, trying to keep my tone neutral despite how much I was on the verge of tears. “- but don’t worry. I’ll pick up Manuel... I know I need to start being a better mother.”

I made it a point to use Mario's exact phrasing when he scolded me the night before. Just as he began spluttering a response, I hung up the phone.

***

It had been a week since I met Cesar and Ray for lunch. I hadn’t heard from either of them nor Oscar until I was on my way to picking up Cesar. Normally he preferred to make his own way home, but he had plans to meet with Ruby and wanted me to give him a ride. Just as I pulled up in front of Dwayne’s barbecue joint, my phone began to ring. As soon as I answered it, the sound of my older brother’s voice sounded throughout my car. Needless to say, he was angry about something.

“Did you know he got him a job?”

There it was.

“Huh?” I answered, completely taken back by what he had said. I suspected he was talking about Ray, but for Cesar’s sake, I hoped he wasn’t. “- what are you talking about, Oscar?”

“Cesar got the viejo a fucking job,” he yelled, his voice growing louder and angrier with every word he spoke. “- what happened to keeping an eye on him?

“I-i had to leave early,” I sighed. “Cesar must’ve talked to Dwayne after I left.”

“Well, great fucking job, y/n,” Oscar retorted. I could feel the pace of my heartbeat quickening the louder and madder he got. I felt overwhelmed. “You were supposed to make sure Cesar didn’t get too close to him; now they’re workmates.

“Look, I know you’re mad, but could you stop yelling at me?!” My voice shook as I spoke, and I felt my eyes water and hands shake. I didn’t know what was coming over me, but I had no control over it. “- I have enough people telling me I’ve fucked up. I don’t need that shit from you.”

There was silence for a prolonged moment, and I groaned quietly. I didn’t mean to overshare, but it was too late to take it back. I didn’t want Oscar to worry about me more so than he already did.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled quickly. “... you alright?”

“I’m good,” I replied, even though he and I both knew I was far from it. Nonetheless, I wanted to end our conversation as swiftly as possible. The longer I stayed on the line, the more I feared he would pry into what was going on with me. “- Don’t worry... Look, I know it’s messy, but there’s nothing we can do without hurting Cesar. We just gotta wait it out and see how it goes.”

After agreeing to do so, Oscar hung up, and I finally made my way inside. My dad was wearing an apron and stood by the front counter. It eerily reminded me of the times he would cook for my brothers and me when we were kids, that is, in between the times he abandoned us and showed up when he needed a place to crash. When the doorbell rang as I walked in, he looked over to me and smiled. I almost didn’t want to glare at him.

“Hola mija,” he greeted as he approached me. I hated to admit it, but I could see how hard he was trying to be an accomodating host. “Can I get you a menu?

“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “- no, I’m just here to pick up Cesar. He said he needed me to give him a ride somewhere.

“He’s in the back,” Ray replied, nodding towards the entrance to the storeroom. “I think he’ll be out soon.”

“So,” I began, trying to fill the awkward silence. Though I still had 19 years worth of resentment towards him, I wanted to be civil. “You’re working here now, huh?”

It felt strange talking to my father like this. The last time he was around, I was around Cesar’s age. Now, we were making small talk like the two adults we were. It felt uncomfortable because part of me still felt like the girl I was when he left, the girls who had been hurting for almost 10 years because of what he did.

“Yeah, it’s nice... Dwayne’s a good boss.”

“Yeah,” I smiled in agreement. Mr Turner was one of the kindest people I knew. Whenever I came into his restaurant after school, he always made sure I left with an empty stomach even if I didn’t have any money. Now, he was doing the same for my little brother. “He’s always been good to Cesar.”

Just as I turned to call Cesar to come out from the storeroom, my dad spoke up, causing me to turn my heel back and face him. He seemed hesitant, which was a strange sight. I remembered him being certain of everything he did.

“Hey, um,” his nervousness was heavily prevalent in his voice. I tried to prepare myself for what he was about to say, knowing it would have a significant impact. “- I know you said we could talk about it later... but I really wanna meet my grandson.”

I inhaled sharply. Of all the things he could have said, I was not expecting him to bring up Manuel. Considering his track record, I assumed he would be gone before my son crossed his mind again. He seemed to prove me wrong.

“- I know, you have every right to say no,” he added, in a tone I could only assume, and hope was sincere. “- I was a horrible father to you... but I’m hoping I can be a good abuelo... if you give me a chance.”

“I don’t know...” I sighed. I still felt uncertain about my dad and his agenda. I felt uncertain that he changed enough to be sincere, let alone enough to have a place in my son’s life.

Although he was Manuel’s grandfather, and nothing I could do would ever change that, I had control over who came and left my son’s life. I would not let him in without confirmation that he was better, that he had changed.

“I understand,” he answered.

The two of us stood in awkward silence for a minute or so before Cesar entered the dining area, his backpack clutched in his hand. He seemed concerned by the way my father and I were standing, the tension between us physically apparent just as it was figuratively.

“Hey, you ready to go?” I smiled as I turned to face my little brother. I didn’t want him to worry any more than he already did.

Cesar nodded, drawing his attention away from the tension between our father and I. Just as we were about to turn and leave, Ray pulled out a brown to-go bag from behind the counter.

“Here, mijo, I got you something,” he said as he handed the bag to Cesar, who was taken aback but smiled nonetheless. “I noticed you didn’t have anything to eat when you were on your break.”

I glanced back at Cesar, who seemed grateful. Often when he had a lot on his mind or a lot on his plate, it was easy for him to forget to do important things like getting something to eat. Moreover, when Cesar did realise what he had forgotten, he would often try to hide it. It took a bit of paying attention before Oscar, and I picked up on it. I was impressed that my dad managed to do so in just a day.

“Do you need a ride?” I asked my dad, who shook his head and smiled.

“No, I’ll be okay. I still have a few more hours to go.”

“... Are you working tomorrow?”

“No,” he answered. I could tell he was worried about where my subtle interrogation was headed.

“Okay,” I smiled, knowing what I would say would make him happy. “Come by my place tomorrow morning... You can meet your grandson then.”

He grinned as he inhaled deeply. I smiled weakly before placing my hand on Cesar’s shoulder and walking out of the restaurant, hoping with all my heart that I wasn’t making a mistake.

***

My dad arrived at my doorstep the next morning, almost half an hour before the time we agreed upon. He tried to hide it when I greeted him, but I knew how happy he was that he was finally getting the chance to meet his grandson.

“Where’s Mario?” Ray asked nonchalantly as I led him to Manuel’s nursery.

“He’s working,” I answered shortly, not allowing my dad the chance to pry. “Just watch your step when you come in. There’s lots of toys lying around.”

I smiled wearily at my son as I carefully picked him up from his bed. I was getting more confident in holding him, but I still felt scared every time I did. As I cradled him in my arms, I looked over to my dad, who had carefully navigated his way through the array of baby toys on the ground.

“Here,” I said softly, as I slowly moved towards him, carefully transferring my son from my arms and into his. Watching him cradle his grandson so carefully and with so much concern made me smile. “His name’s Manuel.”

“Manuel,” he repeated, smiling as my son continued to sleep soundly in his arms. I couldn’t help but smile. This was a side of my dad I forgot existed. He shook his head as he continued to grin down at Manuel. “... que lindo.”

I turned away and began folding Manuel’s freshly washed clothes away. As I pulled open one of the drawers, I looked down and saw my dad’s duffel bag in the corner of my eye; fully packed and discarded by the door. That’s when I began to piece together why he wanted to meet my son so soon. I pushed the drawer shut slowly before turning to back to my dad, who was still oblivious to what I had figured out.

“You’re leaving?” I asked, glancing pointedly at the bag he left by the door.

He slowly turned around, carefully placing Manuel back in his cot, before turning back to me. When he didn’t say anything- only nodded guiltily as he shoved his hand in his back pocket, I wanted to scream.

“Why?” I questioned, trying to understand why he was choosing to leave again, especially after reconciling with Cesar and finding out he has a grandson. Did those things mean nothing to him? Did we mean nothing to him?

He glanced back at Manuel before leading me into the living room, knowing that I wasn’t gonna be quiet. I closed the door behind me and began scolding my dad.

“Can’t ever think about anyone but yourself,” I shouted in frustration. I had really hoped he changed. “This is gonna break Cesar, but you don’t give a shit about that, do you?”

“Mija-”

“-And what about trying to patch things up, huh?” I wasn’t going to let him speak. Not until I got what I needed to say off my chest. I didn’t get to do that the last time he walked out, and I had regretted it ever since. “How do you think they’re gonna react when you tell them?”

When my dad stood silent, eyes falling to the ground, I stumbled back.

“What, you’re dumping that on me too?”

Silent filled the air for a prolonged moment. I glared at my father, bewildered by what he was doing and how little regard his plan had for me and how I would be affected. He looked like he was about to speak.

“I’ll call Cesar when I get to Bakersfield,” he said as if that solved the issue. “Oscar... he’ll come around, but... he’s gotta let go of that rage-”

“- Stop,” I hissed, holding my hand up and shaking my head angrily. I began to regret ever inviting him inside. “You don’t get to do that... You don’t get to come here and try and tell us what’s wrong with us- You’re what’s wrong with us.”

“Mija-”

“And would you stop calling me that,” I snapped, raising my voice louder, although Manuel was sleeping in the room. “I stopped being anyone’s hija the day I had to start being a mother to a kid that wasn’t even mine.”

I glared at my father, who stood silent. My eyebrows knitted together as I continued to shout at him.

“And now... I finally get the chance to raise my own, but I’m too scared to be left alone with him in case I end up exactly like you. A deadbeat.”

My father looked taken aback by my outburst but remained silent, nodding his head only slightly, showing he acknowledged the truth in what I was saying, or rather screaming, at him. I breathed heavily, tears brimming in my eyes as I felt my throat begin to close up.

“Everything bad that’s happened to me is because of you,” I cried, my voice beginning to crack. Before I could continue speaking, I inhaled sharply, my breath beginning to stutter. “I can’t even look at my son without thinking of all the ways I could end up failing him as you did to me.”

His eyebrows rose before furrowing in sympathy. Before I could even think of stopping him, he pulled me into his arms and hugged me tightly. I couldn’t help but sob quietly. I had craved a hug from my dad for most of my childhood.

I wish he hadn’t waited so long to give me one.

***

Fortunately, not long after Ray left, Abuelita arrived home. After explaining to her what had happened, she happily agreed to stay with Manuel so I could go and break the news to my brothers. So I got my things together in haste and drove as quickly as I could to Oscar’s house.

After knocking on the front door and being let in by Oscar himself, I sat at the table and waited. My brother had our traditional mugs of coffee at hand and sat opposite me. He immediately noticed my puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“What happened?” He asked softly, watching me intently as I fought back the tears while trying to piece together an explanation. He leaned forward and clutched the handle of his mug. “You and Mario fight again?”

I shook my head quickly. Staring down at my mug, I sighed deeply. The longer I waited to tell him, the harder it would eventually be. There was no point in beating around the bush.

“Ray left,” I stated. Oscar inhaled sharply, clicking his jaw as he turned his head away from me. I couldn’t bear to look up at him, so I sat in silence. Whatever he wanted to get off his chest, I would let him.

“Cesar’s gonna be crushed,” he sighed. He and I both knew that more than anyone. Even though he knew that our parents basically left us with no choice but to sacrifice our youth and dreams to support Cesar, he still yearned to have a relationship with them. If only he knew how painful it was.

“Hey,” I whispered, causing Oscar to finally look me in the eye.

I could see his eyes glistening. Though his first concern was how Cesar would be affected, I could tell that he was just as impacted. We both let our guards down when Ray accepted the job at Dwayne’s business. We both secretly hoped he would stay this time.

“I’ll tell him,” I insisted. Oscar sat up, ready to disagree, but I spoke before he could say anything. “- he made you break the news to us the last time he left. I’m not gonna let you go through that again.”

My voice began to crack. Oscar furrowed his eyebrows in concern, but I had already made my mind up.

“He’s gonna take it out on you,” Oscar said, in an attempt to get me to leave the burden with him, but I refused. I shook my head.

“Let him,” I replied shortly.

Cesar was a wild card when it came to things like this. When Oscar delivered the bad news, Cesar would respond by either breaking down or shoving our brother. Sometimes he would even punch the nearest wall. When it was me, however, Cesar typically responded by saying awful things. Things he didn’t mean. Often he would accompany such words with a shove or two.

I knew that this was a big one, though.

So I tried to prepare myself for anything. Maybe Cesar was gonna say something awful to me in retaliation. Maybe he was just gonna break down in tears. Maybe he was gonna react in an unprecedented way. Regardless, I was willing to take whatever. For Oscar and I, this was yet another time one of our parents let us down. For Cesar, this was the first time he got to develop a relationship with either one of them, and so the first time, he was gonna be disappointed so severely.

About an hour later, after Oscar and I finished our coffee and sat silently on the couch, Cesar came home from school. Noticing how quiet we were, he immediately figured out that something wasn’t right.

“What’s going on?” Cesar asked hesitantly, noting how Oscar and I were staring at him as he walked in with such intent and concern. He glanced down the hall before looking back at the two of us. “Where’s Ray?”

I had done so much crying; I was convinced that I had no more tears left. Yet, when Cesar spoke, I felt my eyes being glazed over again. I looked over at Oscar, who offered a nod of encouragement.

“Cesar, c’mere... Ray left,” I explained painfully, not having enough courage to look at my little brother as I spoke.

“What?” Cesar was already beginning to shout, and I didn’t blame him. I inhaled sharply while looking up at the ceiling, trying to pull myself together so I could be there for him in whatever way he needed me to be. “He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“He did.”

Cesar sighed, his eyebrows knitting as he processed the bad news. His eyes quickly darkened, and he immediately turned to Oscar.

“What did you do?”

“He didn’t do anything,” I said before Oscar could chime in. I held my hand out and gently pushed Cesar back after he stepped towards our brother. “I was the last one he talked to, okay? I only just told Oscar before you got home.”

“Well, what did you say, then?”

“Cesar,” I sighed. I had little to no energy left, let alone enough to argue with my little brother. “He was never sticking around... He showed up with his duffel bag already packed.”

“What, you didn’t try to talk him out of it? You just let him go?”

“I’m not responsible for what he decides, Cesar.” My frustration grew exceedingly as I spoke. “He’s a grown man. I shouldn’t have to talk him out of abandoning his children... again.”

Cesar turned away, confirming to me that he knew I was right. I sighed, thinking the worst of our argument was over, but that’s when Cesar spoke again.

“I bet this makes you happy,” he muttered. “You and Oscar couldn’t wait to get rid of him.”

“Happy?... You think I’m happy?” I repeated, furrowing my brows as I stared down at my little brother. Of all the stupid things he’d said to me in his lifetime, this was an all-time low. “Are you fucking kidding me? Cesar, I’m your sister... but for most of your life, I’ve been your mom... If you’re gonna yell at someone, get on the next bus to Bakersfield and go yell at him. He’s the one who left. He’s the one who ruined our lives.”

“Ray didn’t ruin my life,” Cesar muttered quietly, shaking his head and laughing dryly, before looking up at me with a scowl. “You did.”

Oscar stood up and placed himself in between Cesar and me. He held his arms up in an attempt to get Cesar to back down but to no avail.

“Cesar, that’s enough,” he warned, facing our little brother, who shoved back every time Oscar tried to push him away. Cesar was adamant about getting the last word, but Oscar continued to try and keep him back. “Ces- Cesar, that’s enough.”

“No, you know what?”

Cesar fought free from Oscar’s grip and immediately finished what he started.

“Everything bad that’s happened to me is because of you,” Cesar spat, glaring at me with such passionate anger, I almost didn’t recognise my little brother. “Manuel’s gonna need all the luck he can get with a mother like you.”

My mouth slowly fell agape, and my breath hitched. I could hear Cesar breathe heavily from all the yelling. He glared at me, almost as if he knew how much he was hurting me, but he didn’t seem to care. He stormed out of the house before Oscar could begin scolding him for taking it too far. So instead, he watched my reaction intently, ready to console me if I needed to break down after what Cesar had just said.

“Y/n, he didn’t mean that,” Oscar reasoned, taking note of the way my eyes glistened and how hard I was biting my bottom lip, something I only ever did to keep myself from crying.

I nodded, even though I was finding it increasingly difficult to believe. Everything I had suspected of myself. All of the fears I had about being an actual mother for the first time. Cesar’s words were making me confirm it.

I grabbed my bag off the floor and began heading for the door, despite Oscar’s attempts at calling out to me. I had to leave. I couldn’t face either one of my brothers. And, at that point, I couldn’t even face my son. I began driving around the block before finding an empty parking lot to stop at. There, I sat in silence for a few hours, trying to process everything that had happened since the morning.

***

I had been sitting in the parking lot for a few tens of minutes. Most of that time, I spent sobbing. It felt like all of the responsibilities I had spent the past few weeks and months, and years of my life carrying toppled over and crushed me in the process.

The part that hurt the most was how much I tried to do my best. I tried to be the best mother to Manuel. I tried to be the best sister to Cesar. I tried to be the best partner to Mario. Yet, it seemed like no matter how hard I tried, I still wasn’t enough.

In the midst of my emotional breakdown, a loud tap sounded throughout my car. I looked and gasped when I saw Mario standing outside my door with a worried expression. In all honesty, it never crossed my mind that someone would care enough to come and find me.

After I unlocked the doors, he sat in the passenger’s seat. He watched me intently as I wiped my tears away and tried to compose myself.

“Oscar and Abuelita told me what happened,” he whispered before slowly reaching out his hand and taking hold of mine. We had somewhat reconciled the last time we fought, but there was still tension between us. I was grateful he was taking the first step towards fixing it- goodness knows I was not in a position to be able to. “... Please talk to me.”

At first, I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. I felt an array of shame and embarrassment. Mario noticed this and responded by gently placing his hands on the sides of my face. He knew I loved it when he did that. I eventually looked up at him, and he just smiled as he waited patiently for me to speak.

“I-I,” I bowed my head for a moment to try and muster the energy to finish my sentence. Mario placed his hand on mine and gently squeezed it reassuringly. “I thought he was gonna stay this time... He kept asking to meet Manuel, and he got a job, and I... I thought it would be different this time.”

Mario nodded but remained silent. Before we began dating, we were childhood friends. He was there all the times my dad left before. He knew how much this was hurting me.

“And I’m so scared,” I cried, trying not to choke on my words. “I’m so scared I’m gonna fuck up my kids’ lives the way he has mine and my brothers’... I don’t wanna break Manuel.”

“Hey,” Mario whispered, taking hold of the side of my face and looking up at me with concern-filled eyes. “You’re not gonna break, Manuel... He and I are so lucky to have you.”

I sniffled as I turned away. I didn’t believe him, and Mario could tell. He sighed. I thought then that he would give up on trying to console me and leave, but instead, he continued to look at me, even as I turned away.

“Is that why you call me all the time?” He asked. I didn’t turn back to him, but I could tell from his tone that he was not agitated anymore. He was genuinely concerned. “- ‘cause you feel scared when you’re alone with Manuel?”

I dropped my head and remained silent, which Mario accurately interpreted as a yes. After a moment of silence, he reached for my hand again. This time, I turned to face him.

“I’m so sorry... for everything I said to you,” he whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. It had been a while since I had seen him so vulnerable, which was strange considering how emotional Mario was. “Ever since I started my job, I’ve just been really stressed... I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. That will never happen again.”

“I shouldn’t have annoyed you so much,” I muttered. I couldn’t help but feel guilty that Mario was apologising to me when he was obviously under a lot of pressure. “You work so hard for us, I shouldn’t be making things worse-”

“Baby, you don’t,” he responded. I began to smile through my tears because he was using a term of endearment for the first time in a while rather than just simply calling me by my name. “You don’t... I’m sorry I made you feel like you do... How about, from now on, you text me when you have a question about Manuel, or when you start to feel overwhelmed, or even when you just want to talk. I can’t promise I’ll always be able to talk, but I’ll respond to you as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” I whispered, smiling at him as I nodded. I felt so relieved that he understood what I was going through. Mario leaned close to me and kissed my temple softly before looking me in the eye, his hands finding their way back to the sides of my face. He could tell something was still on my mind.

“You’re nothing like him, Y/n,” he murmured. “He leaves when things get tough... you’ve always stayed... I mean, you’ve taken care of Cesar since he was born... Now you’re taking care of Manuel... and of me.”

I chuckled beneath my breath. When Manuel was first born, Mario joked about how well I took care of them two. I would have had it any other way.

“There’s no one else I’d rather being doing this with,” he said before kissing me softly. I smiled against his lips, and my eyes remained close for a moment even after he pulled away. “Manuel and I are so lucky to have you, Y/n... I love you so much.”

“I’m lucky to have you,” I murmured as I brought my hand up to his jaw, drawing circles on the side of his cheek with my thumb. He smiled, leaning forward and pressing his nose against mine. “I love you.”

It was as if he came at the right time. Just when things began to topple over me, Mario was right there, ready to bear my burdens with me. For the first time in a long time, I felt a wave of peace and calmness wash over me. I knew I had a lot of work to do. I knew Cesar, and I were still on bad terms. But I also knew that so long as I had Mario with me, I would be okay. I would survive whatever other obstacles life threw my way, and it would all be worth it for my son.

He and Mario were more than enough for me.

#mario martinez imagine #mario martinez x reader #mario martinez imagines #on my block imagines #on my block #Oscar Diaz #cesar diaz #ray diaz #mario x reader #Mario Martinez #on my block masterlist #on my block fanfiction

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years ago

Text

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 5

Summary: After a short two day break, Adelaide finally comes back to the cottage. During their next challenge however, things don’t go to plan.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 7.9k (I know, this is a lot, but I don’t know what happened to me

Warnings: Descriptions of a haunted house and what can be found in them.

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

I’ve been here in Italy for a week and a half now, but I have to take a small break, because the I had to travel to Switzerland. It was only for two days, to sign some papers and meet up with the director. The filming process isn’t starting for three more months, but it’s nice to know a bit more about it and to finally see the director in real life.

Plus it felt like I finally had time to breath, when I’m not being surrounded by camera’s. Henry and I prerecorded our challenges, so the schedule isn’t messed up.

Two days ago, the second episode aired and I actually liked the way people write about us and me. For once I’m not the ditz, but I’m the daredevil and actually quite smart.

I’m in the back of a taxi, as the driver soars over the roads. Thankfully he can’t hear me because of the plastic that separates us and from the looks of it, he doesn’t want to talk to me. That’s a good thing, because I see my dad wants to FaceTime me. ‘Hi,’ I say when I pick up.

Ever since I have been making a lot of money, he started to look even better and better. Not because I’m paying for his botox, but because he finally can relax. Years of overworking himself, stressing over me and my mom, it took a toll on him. Though he still works hard to make sure my mom is happy, it’s nothing compared to what he had to do.

The smile on my father’s face when he sees me is priceless. Even when I was younger, his entire face would light up when he saw me. I’m happy to know that I still have that effect on my dad, even when there is an ocean in between us and we’re on FaceTime. ‘You look so pretty,’ is the first thing he tells me.

He is an absolute sweetheart. ‘Thank you.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in a taxi, appa. I went to Switzerland for my new movie. Now I’m on my way back to Italy, to the cottage I’m staying at.’

‘Right,’ he says. He tilts his head. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m totally fine,’ I tell him. ‘Why? Don’t you like the show?’

He smiles, holding his phone very close to his face, as if he is closer to me then. ‘I do, but you look tired.’

I simply shrug. ‘I’m okay. How is eomma? She likes the show?’

Dad nods. ‘She is resting now, but she loves the show. Tell me, you like this Henry guy?’

Why am I blushing? What a way to give yourself away, Adelaide Park. ‘I like being around him, yes.’

‘Don’t lie,’ he says. ‘I taught you better than to lie to your appa. You like like him, right? I can tell, you know. Your smile when you’re with him tells me enough and you do that thing.’

My brows furrow together. ‘What thing?’

‘You touchy.’

‘That sounds perverted,’ I say. ‘And by the way, I’m not touchy.’

‘You are,’ dad tells me and this man is dead serious. ‘You touch his arm in your sleep. You always do that when you sleep, touch the other person. I remember when you were little girl, maybe five, and it was summer. It was very hot. Normally at that age, you always lay next to me, very close, because you were scared. But it was too hot, so you only placed your hand on my arm, because you couldn’t sleep without psychically knowing that I was there.’

I’m so grateful that there are no camera’s around, because this is one way to get exposed.

‘Also, you are happy around him. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time,’ he says with a smile.

I lean my head against the head rest. ‘I’m always happy,’ I tell him. ‘Not just because of him.’

He simply nods. ‘I see you don’t want to talk about it. That’s okay, I understand. You don’t want to talk about your love life with your appa.’

‘This is barely a love life,’ I chuckle.

‘It’s more than you have now.’

I purse my lips together, to not burst out into laughter. ‘Thanks for putting it into perspective.’

‘You take good care of yourself?’

‘Yes, dad.’

He nods. ‘I’m very proud of you,’ he says in all seriousness. ‘Only a daughter of mine eats fried spider like it’s nothing.’

I keep thinking about that challenge. It was disgusting, sure, but it’s true what I said: I can eat anything. One time, we didn’t have anything to eat and my dad was desperate. After spending an entire day at school, with only half an apple, I was starving and crying. It was pretty rough weather outside, so he couldn’t go on his usual round of finding food behind the restaurants, something he did when it was a situation like this. He went to the garden and found us some earthworms. My mom refused to eat it, after dad sort of made a meal out of it. She told him she wasn’t going to accept that we were that poor that we needed to eat earthworms.

What was next? He was going to snatch the snails out of the yard? He was going to catch a pigeon? Go fishing in the lake a few kilometers from our house?

They started fighting. My mom was mad at my dad, my dad thought she was being ungrateful. Just to stop them from fighting, I ate the fried earthworm and despite it being disgusting, I was too hungry and needed something in my stomach. It instantly stopped them from fighting and my dad was proud of me eating it. My mom even ate one, because she didn’t want me to think any less of her, she told me years later.

We talk for a bit and then he has to hang up, since he needs to do some groceries. I stare at the picture he send me yesterday. We don’t have many pictures of us from when I was younger, but he actually found the only one we have of the three of us. It was during Christmas. Both him and my mom were home when I was seven and the neighbor came over with her polaroid camera. She made a picture of us and during a clean up session, my dad found it again.

I remember what he texted with the picture: I loved you when you were born, I loved you when you were my little princess and I still love you now you are my hardworking princess. I’m so proud of you.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts, when I see that Henry wants to FaceTime. I answer the call and see his handsome face appear on my screen. ‘There you are,’ he says, a grin spread across his face. ‘Are you almost home?’

Home. I never had a place that I called home. It was always the people that made a place home. My parents were my home and since I moved out for my career in the acting industry, I have an apartment where I stay, but it’s never a home. I can’t seem to turn it into a home.

But staying in this cottage with Henry, felt homey, but I didn’t dare to call it a home, not wanting to come across weird or desperate.

However Henry does it now and it makes my heart skip a beat.

I look at the navigation screen and say: ‘Forty minutes.’

‘I miss you,’ he admits.

This shouldn’t make me blush like it does right now. I can’t stop my smile. ‘You miss me?’ I teasingly ask.

‘A whole lot, Addy. The place is so quiet without you here.’ He flashes me a dashing smile and sits outside on the doorstep, in the nice evening sun. ‘How was Switzerland?’

‘It was okay,’ I tell him. ‘The place where we are going to shoot is beautiful.’

‘Did the director have someone in mind for the love interest?’

I nod. ‘Yes, he is thinking about asking David Castañeda again. We also starred in another movie together and he liked our chemistry.’

When I told Henry about what the movie was about, he simply raised his eyebrows. It’s about a woman who goes to Switzerland, she is a journalist and needs to write a story about a mysterious man who owns way too many dogs and no one seems to understand him.

I don’t really need to explain how the rest of the movie will go, since it’s still a romantic comedy, thus pretty self explanatory what is going to happen.

‘But if David says no…?’

‘We’re back at square one,’ I say. ‘You sure I can’t pursue you?’

‘You, Addy, can pursue me any day.’ He winks at me, but I don’t understand the joke. ‘I think you wanted to persuade me, not pursue me.’

Oh shit, this is embarrassing. I’m tempted to open the car door while we’re going this fast, simply to throw myself out. ‘Yeah, I meant persuade. Sorry, English is hard.’

Henry smiles, but it disappears when he looks at me on his screen and he tilts his head in the process. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You have watery eyes.’

I clear my throat, before I blink away the tears in my eyes, because I indeed have watery eyes. ‘Really, it’s fine.’

‘Sure?’

Though I want to tell him a bit more about my private life, the words never roll out of my mouth. Like something is physically stopping me. However, now I say: ‘My dad called me. Just wanted to know how I was.’

Henry nods. ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Think eight months ago. I just miss him a lot, just like I miss my mom.’

‘Understandably so.’ He leans against the doorframe, while he simply stares at his screen. ‘What did they think of the show?’

‘They liked it, but they like every single thing I’m in. They rewatch interviews, movies and episodes of Remembering High School when they miss me.’ I smile, thinking about the millions of videos that my dad send me of them rewatching episodes. He would film himself and say sweet things about how his daughter is the most talented one on the screen, or that his daughter is the prettiest. I know that he sends those videos to me, but he also sends them to friends. ‘I think I just realized now how much I miss them.’

‘That’s totally understandable,’ Henry says. ‘Are you going to visit them once this is over?’

‘I think so.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, they can be proud of you and they should be. I am proud of you too,’ he says. ‘I mean, you totally put me to shame with that food challenge. I even got a message from Angela Bassett, saying how you are by far the coolest and that I’m a wimp.’

I chuckle. ‘That’s sweet and she is right.’

We talk for a while and those forty minutes fly by. The taxi stops in front of the cottage and Henry stands up with a bright smile. He always looks so happy to see me. The chauffeur hands me my bag and after I thanked him, he gets in again and drives off. Henry walks over to me and snakes his arms around my waist, lifting me up after he pulled me close to his body. ‘I’m happy to know that you aren’t going to leave me here again in this cottage,’ he says. ‘It felt like every second went by at least seven times.’

Sure, what he said was sweet, but I can’t seem to focus on those words, since this is the tightest hug someone has given me, apart from my parents of course. This is actually the first time he is hugging me. I press my nose in his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent and I close my eyes.

I’m really home now.

He lets go of me way too quickly. ‘I made you dinner.’

‘Really?’ I ask. ‘What did you make me?’

‘Pasta bolognese. When in Rome, right?’ He points a daring finger at me and says: ‘Don’t you dare say we aren’t in Rome.’

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ I chuckle. He holds out his hand and I give him my bag, before we walk into the cottage. During dinner, I tell him more about the movie and how beautiful the little town was where we’re going to film.

‘Isn’t it tiring, though?’ Henry asks. ‘To constantly play in romantic comedies?’

He asked me this before, but I didn’t know him that well to answer truthfully. Now I do know him well enough, to at least be sort of honest, without sounding like an ungrateful bitch. I simply shrug. ‘Sometimes I wished I would get other offers, but I guess I just have the face for romantic comedies.’

‘What kind of genre would you like to play in?’

‘Like a thriller or an action movie,’ I say. ‘More serious, you know? Maybe even Lara Croft one day. That would be amazing.’

‘You would nail Lara Croft,’ he says. ‘I feel like you have a lot of potential to play in tons of different movies. You would do great in a drama too, but a thriller is something I would like you to star in. Really different from what you do now.’

‘Don’t you ever want to play in a romantic comedy or something really serious?’ I ask him. ‘A drama for example?’

‘I would like to try it out one day,’ he says.

‘I think you would be great in a romantic comedy. You have that charm that women fall for.’

Henry cocks an eyebrow. ‘A charm you say?’

‘Yeah, exactly.’ I smile at him, stirring through my pasta. ‘What is a role you really want to portray one day? I mean, you already played Superman, that was pretty awesome.’

He nods. ‘Maybe James Bond one day.’

‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘I mean… It’s James Bond. That’s almost every men’s dream.’ Henry takes a sip of his water, as he clearly is studying my face. ‘Why? Don’t you like James Bond?’

I shake my head. ‘My mom hated the movies with a passion when I was growing up. It’s kind of sexist, really. I feel like, if you should ever play a movie with something like that, you should look into a movie where they create a whole new legendary character. Just like Keanu Reeves is the start of a John Wick legacy, you could be the start of something else.’ I smile at him, before adding: ‘You deserve better than to portray James Bond, Henry.’

He plays with his food for a second, before he looks at me again. ‘You think so?’

I nod. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, I’ll consider it.’

After we finish our dinner, I take a shower and get dressed in my pajamas. Despite the fact that I only drove back to the cottage today from Switzerland, I am really tired. Before I would go to bed early, simply to avoid falling in sleep in front of him, but now we usually get in bed together. We talk about tons of stuff before we actually fall asleep, still with the wall of pillows between us.

My mind is nearly in Dreamland already. I turn on my side and wrap my leg and arm around the pillows, my fingertips accidentally caressing his soft skin. ‘You don’t mind me doing this?’ I groggily whisper, still remembering my dad’s words that I’m apparently doing that thing.

‘I don’t,’ Henry says. ‘I think it’s sweet.’

I open my eyes for a brief second and I see him already looking at me, a smile toying on his face.

‘Go to sleep, Addy. Tomorrow you and I go swimming in the morning, remember?’

‘Oh right,’ I yawn, closing my eyes again. Somehow my hand finds his and I hesitate for a second. Should I pull my hand back or just leave it here? Thankfully I don’t have to think about that, because Henry wraps his fingers through mine and whispers: ‘Good night, Adelaide.’

‘Good night,’ I mumble, slowly drifting off to sleep.

◎ ◎ ◎

The next morning, I’m back in the insanely cold pool again with Henry. We’ve done this two times before now, but I still don’t trust myself enough to do something alone in the water. Even if it’s just holding the edge, as I’m sort of swimming by myself, Henry close by. I know that even if I do that, he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

‘No, no, no,’ I quickly say, when he suggests that same idea, for the second time this morning. ‘Don’t let go of me, please.’

‘Addy, have I ever let go of you, when you didn’t want me to?’ he asks me. He decides to answer his own question. ‘No, I have never done that, so I’m not going to do that now. I’m just going to remove one hand from your waist to hold your hand, okay?’

‘No,’ I whine.

Henry starts to chuckle. ‘What’s up with you today?’ he asks. ‘You’re shaking. Is the water that cold or are you scared?’

‘I’m scared,’ I admit. ‘I know that I have to do it myself one day and at least try a bit alone, but not today. Please.’

‘Okay, not today,’ he assures me. ‘You seem a bit tense. Is everything okay?’

I sigh. ‘I just got a text from my dad this morning,’ I whisper, but loud enough for him to hear it, maybe not loud enough for the “hidden” camera’s that are stationed in the garden to pick up. ‘It’s just that my mom has a cold and that always worries me.’

‘Why?’ he asks, as he stops walking in the water.

I don’t want to tell him, but I know that I eventually will. My arms are wrapped around his shoulders, while his fingers are circling on my skin. It’s such a small, yet caring gesture from his side. ‘My mom is paralyzed from the waist down,’ I tell him. ‘But… She… After she got paralyzed, she never got back to her old health, if that makes sense. She is very prone to colds and a simply cold can turn into a nasty flu and that can result into her needing to go to the hospital. She ended up in the emergency room a few times and each time I wasn’t home. My dad always tells me not to worry about her, just like my mom tells me not to worry, but it’s hard. I worry a lot about them all the time, especially when she’s sick.’

Henry doesn’t say anything, he simply studies my face. ‘I had no idea,’ he tells me. ‘Come here.’ He pulls me towards his body and I nuzzle my face in his neck. ‘I’m so sorry, Addy. I understand you worry a lot about them, but… I just have to ask: why don’t you tone it down with the movies, so you can be with them?’

I pull back and say: ‘Because… I want to provide for them.’

‘Why?’ His blue eyes almost look innocent. I have to hold myself in, not to brush the wet curls out of his face, not to press my nose against his cheek, to kiss his jaw, feeling the short hairs puncture my lips. I can’t stop myself falling in love with him. He is everything that I was apparently looking for in a man. He is kind, he is patient and he is caring. He knows how to cook, he can read me like the back of his hand and yesterday, the way he held my hand when I went to sleep, is making me feel all sorts of things.

But there is one thing that I know: if he ever becomes a bigger part of my life, he should know more about me. I have been dodging it for too long now, but I should tell him. And even if we don’t become an item, I know that we will end up as friends. I know that after the Celebrity Project ends, I don’t ever want him out of my life again.

‘When I grew up, we were very poor,’ I say. ‘Like, my dad had to work long hours in a factory, my mom became a live in nanny and I had to raise myself. My dad barely ate after a long day of work, so mom and I could have most of it, when my mom would be home to eat it. I went to one of the only schools that was close by and was free. It wasn’t a great school, I don’t even think my teachers remember me at all. We couldn’t afford testing for me, something that my parents didn’t even know about, because they couldn’t miss a day at their jobs and I did my own parent teacher meetings.’

‘Geez, Adelaide,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

I clear my throat, because I don’t want to cry. ‘When I was nineteen, I was working at a diner, to help meet ends back at home, since I couldn’t go to college, my mom was hit by a car and left paralyzed. The medical bills were out of the roof and she needed physical therapy, but we couldn’t afford it. And that’s the whole reason I started acting in ‘Remembering High School’. I had zero acting experience, but I needed the money. After I made that money and my year on the show was up, I got offered two different movies. A romantic comedy or a thriller, but from the looks of it, the romantic comedy would definitely make more. Thankfully I chose that movie, because the thriller was a big flop. Every penny I earned from that movie and a few after that, went to my parents, for their bills.’

Henry nods and removes his hand from my waist, so he can wipe the tears of my cheeks. Not that it helps, since his hand is still wet from the water. ‘You are amazing,’ he says. ‘I think you are by far the most amazing woman on this earth. Do you still do that? Give your money to your parents?’

I nod. ‘I don’t really know what I should do with it and my parents worked so hard for me. This is my way of thanking them.’

Henry pulls me closer to him, his arms around my body and I let out a tiny sob that I was holding in, when I bury my face in his strong shoulder. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘If you want to go home, you just go home, okay? I totally understand. Your family is more important than this show.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.’

‘No, no, no, don’t say something like that. I understand. It’s very personal and this isn’t something that you just tell people. You are amazing, Addy, please remember that, okay?’

I nod, before slowly pulling back, so I can look at him again. Henry is smiling. ‘What?’ I ask.

‘You just keep on surprising,’ he says. ‘And in these days that I’m spending time with you, I’ve gotten to know you in a way that I never thought would be possible. Angela spoke so highly of you, though she barely knew you. Now I know you quite well and I can’t speak anything but highly of you.’

I let out a nervous chuckle. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘But I will anyways,’ he smiles. ‘Let’s get out of the pool now, you are freezing.’ We go to the edge and when I climbed out, I grab my towel and wrap it around me. Henry’s perfectly shaped body, with the right hip-shoulder ratio… I can’t help but look.

‘Henry,’ I say, causing him to look up. ‘Thank you.’

He chuckles. ‘Not a single problem, Adelaide.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Dad: No need to worry. Eomma will make it, it’s a tiny flu.

Adelaide: Sure?

Dad: More than sure. Enjoy your time.

Dad: I love you 😘

Adelaide: I love you too 😘

I keep thinking about my dad’s texts. I mean, he tells me that it will be alright and I should believe him. Back in the day, he was always right and that shouldn’t change now.

After our little swimming adventure, Henry and I got ready for the day and now we’re standing in front of a haunted house, waiting for the host of today to get ready. What exactly the challenge is for today, I don’t know, but I’m not looking forward to it at all.

The rest on the other hand seem to be totally fine. Henry places both of his hands on my shoulders and I look back, placing the top of my head against his chest. Even upside down, he is beautiful looking. I bet I look like a moron. ‘Are you okay?’ he quietly asks.

‘I’m fine.’ Thankfully over the course of the years, I have become a better liar, which I think is a skill thanks to my acting career. I have always been a master at hiding my emotions, but when people get closer to me (just my parents, but nowadays Henry too), it’s harder, because they see right through me.

And right now, I’m not fine. My mom is sick and I don’t know how she is doing as we speak. We have to go through the haunted house and I’m afraid that they are going to make us go individually. I really want to go with Henry, because then I can just hop on his back, bury my face in his neck and not look.

However, this show is the stupidest thing I’ve ever participated in, because we have to go through the haunted house all by ourselves, while even doing some challenges while we’re inside.

My heart is racing and I can’t even look at the big screen outside of the house, without jumping. Henry is still standing behind me, with his hands still on my shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the tight muscles to make them less tense. ‘Relax,’ he whispers, when someone else is going inside. ‘You’re going to be fine.’

But I can’t believe him. I’m not going to be fine. Justin screams his lungs out when someone pops up in front of him, as he is trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. Jennifer is hiding in a corner, while she is singing one of her own songs. And when it’s Henry’s turn, he has to solve a sudoku, but he jumps at every little sound and that is really not easing my mind. If a man like him, who nearly tripped over his own feet because I moved the fried tarantula in his face, screams like this when he hears water drip on the floor, how the hell am I supposed to do this?

After watching everyone else go, it’s time for me. I feel like my petite frame reminds them of a kindergartner, because they all wish me extra good luck. Jennifer even pulls me into a motherly hug and whispers that I’ve got this.

But do I have it in me to finish this?

I push open the door and I step into the house of horrors. I could eat the most disgusting looking snacks and people called me a daredevil. I can manage this. This isn’t that terrifying. It’s just fake, it’s like acting.

Only this set looks scary as hell and there is no one out here to say cut.

The lights start to flicker, something they didn’t do before. How am I supposed to read and answer eventual questions if I have to do that? I take a step forward, but my heart is pounding so loud, that my eardrums hurt.

The steps are minuscule, but at least I’m taking steps forward. Every door, every corner, every closed window… It makes me hesitant, but so far, nothing has happened. Maybe the actors that work here feel sorry for me.

I could crawl over the floor, I think to myself. Maybe that would be—

Something falls down from the ceiling and bounces on the floor. I jump backwards, letting out a scream that is more a high whistle note. When I finally can open my eyes again, I notice it’s a head and just a head. ‘It’s fake,’ I tell myself out loud. ‘It’s fake.

But then the head starts to scream, causing me to scream and a tiny sob escapes my lips. No, no, no, this can’t be happening.

I quickly jump over it and hurry myself through the rest of the hall.

Because I’m simply just walking and not paying attention, I bump into a wall and I go left, but someone with a fucking knife comes out of the door and I stumble backwards. Thankfully this person keeps standing in the doorframe and I crawl past them, but he or she keeps standing in the doorway, not attacking me. ‘Thank you,’ I squeak, my throat tightening, almost like someone is physically choking me.

Okay, I managed this and I see a clipboard with some questions on a table. I press my back against the wall, so I can see everyone.

What is the capital of Russia? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, I think to myself. If these are the questions, I’m out of here within a minute.

I hear footsteps and the light that was flickering two seconds ago, is completely out. It’s dark. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

I can’t see anything, but I hear screams and dark voices. I try to catch my breath, when the light come back on and I’m surrounded by a bloody nurse, a creepy clown and oh my, is that not one, but three zombies? They are really close to me and I can’t help up but scream bloody murder, as I hide my face behind the clipboard. ‘No, go away, go away!’

Is that a fucking chainsaw?

I open my eyes for a second, only to see that someone who looks like Chucky is really close now with a chainsaw. This doesn’t seem fake anymore. This seems way too real and my brain is going crazy. What is happening? Am I dying?

I start to cough, as the tears run over my cheeks. ‘No, stop, please!’

I hear something, but the pounding of my heart is too hard for me to hear what is happening. All I can do is cry, shake and cough as the tears nearly make me choke.

‘Addy, I’m here,’ I hear a voice say, but I keep hiding my face in my face, kicking my feet and I hit something. ‘Ouch, no, no, it’s me, Henry. Don’t worry, it’s all over.’

I peek through my fingers, to see the lights are on and all the scary people that cornered me, are gone. The only one I see now, is Henry. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes hurt from crying. I try to say something, but my breathing is all over the place.

Henry holds my hands and places one on my own chest and the other on his. ‘Try to breath with me, Adelaide,’ he says to me. ‘Now breath in deeply.’ He takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, before slowly breathing out. I try to copy him, but my breathing is too erratic. It takes at least ten times before I’m finally sort of managing. ‘Very good,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘Very good.’

‘Is it over?’ I whimper.

Henry nods, holding my hand tightly in his. ‘It’s all over. I’m so sorry that this happened to you and I’m sorry I didn’t come in here way sooner. I should’ve noticed that this was too much.’

‘Did we lose?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he says sternly. ‘You shouldn’t worry about that.’ Henry stands up and pulls me with him, but my legs feel like jello and simply give out, because of all the adrenaline that is breaking down. I cling onto his shirt, as he holds me up by my waist.

‘I can’t anymore,’ I cry, as I bury my face into his shirt, not caring about wiping my tears on the fabric. ‘I’m so scared.’

‘I know,’ he sighs. ‘Fuck, I know.’ He hoists me up in his arms, guiding me into wrapping my legs around his waist. ‘Don’t look,’ he tells me.

I don’t even want to look at this awful, awful place anymore, so I bury my face into his neck, as he walks out of the haunted house. He places me on the soft grass and he runs his fingers through my disheveled hair. ‘Addy, listen to me,’ he says, ‘you’re breathing is good, but you need to make sure that it stays like this okay?’

I simply nod. ‘I’m just so embarrassed.’

‘There is absolutely no need to be embarrassed,’ he tells me. ‘You can stop with this program if you want. I mean, I totally understand that you want to quit.’

‘I think I just want tomorrow off,’ I whisper. ‘And do nothing.’

‘I understand,’ he says. ‘You want to go home?’

Home. ‘As long as you are there.’

Henry smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘I’m not leaving you, Addy. Not after this.’

◎ ◎ ◎

When Henry and I are home, I feel disgusting. I could actually use a shower, but I’m too afraid of standing in the shower cabin by myself and I don’t want to shower with Henry (our friendship is too fragile for that), so a simple washing cloth should do the trick.

The producers of the Celebrity Project gave me the next day off and depending on how I feel after tomorrow, I will decide whether or not I’m staying here. I don’t want to give up and I think I can overcome this.

Henry sits next to me on the couch, as we both stare at the television. We have been watching Mamma Mia, simply because of the ABBA songs and the story line is predictable and predictability is exactly what I need right now. ‘You want something to drink?’ he asks me, when the credits are rolling on the screen.

I shake my head. ‘No, thank you.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.

‘Do you want to go to bed?’ he suggests. ‘We could do that. I bet you are tired.’

I am tired and the fact that he said that we could do that, must indicate that he is going to stay with me, right? I simply nod and he says he is going to close off. To be alone is not what I want right now, so I follow him around the cottage like a puppy.

When we’re in bed, I ask him if he wants to leave the light on his nightstand on. I still sit up straight in bed, my arms wrapped around my knees. Henry places a hand on my back.

‘I’m scared,’ I whisper, as I feel my heart pounding painfully in my chest.

He sighs deeply. ‘I know. Is there anything I can do for you?’

I turn my head to the side, so I can look at him. ‘Can… Can you… Can you hold me, please?’ Tears burn in my eyes. ‘I’m so scared, Henry.’

He throws the pillows from the bed, before I crawl into his inviting arms. I place my head on his chest, my arm wrapped around his waist. ‘Breath, Addy,’ he whispers. ‘It’s all okay now, I’m right here with you. Nothing can happen to you now.’

However, the tears come again and they aren’t stopping. His large hand cups my cheek, his thumb caressing the skin right underneath my eye. He lets me cry, even though I have been crying a lot for the past few hours.

I force myself to stop, because I’m out of breath and I’m just too tired to cry anymore. Henry pulls me closer to his broad and heavy frame.

‘There, there,’ he says in a soft tone. ‘You are all okay now.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper.

‘No need to be sorry, Addy. You just try and go to sleep, because you are really tired and after this day… You should just sleep, okay?’

During the night, I wake up a few times, but every single time I’m closely tugged into Henry’s protective arms. Sometimes he is behind me, his face buried in my neck or my hair, our hands linked. Sometimes I have my head on his shoulder and then my face is nuzzled in his neck. But every time I wake up, he is still awake. ‘Go back to sleep,’ he whispers, his fingers drawing soothing circles on my skin.

And as if his voice is working like hypnosis, I drift off right back to sleep.

◎ ◎ ◎

The next day, Henry has been nothing but a sweetheart to me and halfway through the day, I feel a whole lot better and decide to stay here and finish the competition. I don’t care that we are last and that we are probably going to lose anyways.

The two of us decide to take a walk through a large orchard, with trees filled with apples and oranges. We end up on a lovely field and I plop down in the grass. The sun is burning on my skin, but I chose a spot near a tree, so we can alternate between sitting in the sun and the shadows.

Henry and I lean against the tree when the sun is too hot for us to sit in, as we stare ahead of us. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘I was wondering something.’

‘Tell me.’

‘You kept your personal life very private over the course of the years. Why was that?’

‘I thought it wasn’t anyones business.’ I look to the side and chuckle. ‘That’s the I try to be really tough-answer, but the truth is: I was embarrassed. No one at school knew about my situation at home and I certainly didn’t want the entire world to know.’

‘You didn’t have any friends?’

I shake my head. ‘Yet again: I was too embarrassed to share this with anyone. Besides, I was the weird girl who wore the same clothes for three days on end.’

‘Kids can be cruel,’ he says, referring to his own past.

I wrap my arms around his strong one, pressing my cheek against his bicep. ‘They can.’

‘Can I ask something else?’

‘You can.’

‘Have you ever dated?’

I place my chin on his arm, so I can actually look at him again. ‘No, I have never.’

‘You have played alongside quite a few single guys. Was there not a spark in real life?’

‘Goodness gracious, Henry, you sound like you’re in a retirement home. A spark in real life? Really?’

He chuckles. ‘You get what I’m saying.’

‘I do,’ I say with a smile. ‘But to answer your question, no, there wasn’t. I mean, I remain in contact with some of them and we’re still friendly, but I never let them in. Not like how I’m with you.’ I place my cheek against his bicep again, but one of my hands slides down his arm. He intertwines his fingers with mine and his thumb draws soft figures on my skin.

Henry nods. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘you are really one of a kind.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you do something that no one else does. You haven’t mentioned my appearance once since we are here.’

‘Really?’ I ask frowning. ‘I thought about your appearance quite a few times.’

He smiles. ‘But you never voiced it. You know, it’s flattering that people comment about my appearance, but you don’t do that. You comment about my personality traits and I don’t want to become all sappy, but… It means a lot.’

‘You are sappy,’ I mumble, causing him to laugh. ‘But since we are being sappy with one another, I should tell you that… You are one of a kind too. You give me a chance. I remember one of the first times I was having issues with speaking and you didn’t fill in the rest. You just waited till I could finish my sentence. That means… a lot. Also, Henry, you… You ran into the haunted house for me.’

‘How…’

‘I saw the footage,’ I say with a smile, remembering what I saw this morning.

He was standing outside, his arms crossed in front of his chest, a deep frown between his brows. ‘Can you just leave the lights on?’ he asked. ‘Flickering lights make it harder for Adelaide to concentrate.’

But there was no response. He shook his head, clenched his jaw and eventually he simply walked away. He went in the haunted house, pressed the “Stop” button, before rushing towards me, pulling some of the actors away. ‘It’s over,’ he told them. ‘Get the fuck out of here.’

After seeing the footage, it made my heart swell like crazy. ‘Quite romantic, really,’ I chuckle.

He laughs, but it sounds more nervous this time. ‘Well… It was nothing.’

‘It meant the world to me,’ I retort. And because of that, I think I’m even more in love with you than I already was. However it doesn’t leave my lips. I don’t want to scare him off.

‘This never happened to me before,’ Henry says. ‘Feeling about someone like this.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like how I feel about you.’ He squeezes my hand, before continuing by saying: ‘I care so much about you, Adelaide. Before you told me about your life, after you told me about your life. Even if we don’t win this contest, I did win something else. I won the privilege to get to know you.’

‘You care for me,’ I repeat, letting those words process for a bit. But that’s not falling in love with me.

‘And,’ he continues, ‘I’m slowly falling for you too.’

I resit, so I don’t strain my neck when I look at him. ‘What?’

He holds my hand tightly in his, as if he is afraid that I might slip away. ‘I’m falling in love with you, Adelaide Park.’

I bite my lip. ‘You are?’

‘I am,’ he confirms. ‘Even if we don’t win this show, I want to figure out how we can manage after this. Maybe you can even tone it down with your movies.’

I chuckle, hiding my face in my hand. ‘Maybe I can do that.’ I look at our linked hands and I whisper: ‘I’m falling love with you too, Henry Cavill.’

‘You are?’ he asks with a smile. ‘Lucky me.’

We don’t say anything. I just look into his eyes, trying to figure out what he is thinking. I can see him staring at my lips, before he moistens his own. ‘When I kiss you,’ he says, ‘there is one problem. I fear that I can’t stop then, but I also want us to remain a little secret. For time being of course.’

I nod. ‘Then you don’t kiss me.’

‘But I want to,’ he chuckles.

‘You have to pick one of the options.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I mean…’ I purse my lips together. ‘I wouldn’t mind if we kissed.’

Henry pulls me closer by my hand. I lose a bit of my balance, so I fall against his chest. ‘Careful now, Addy,’ he chuckles. ‘We don’t want any injuries, now do we?’

‘Shut up.’ I finally place my hand on his cheek and as my thumb is slowly caressing his soft skin, I accidentally graze over his velvety lips. He turns his head, to kiss the palm of my hand.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he asks against my skin, as he places his hand on mine, so he can press another, but more firm kiss on the inside of my hand. ‘You can say no.’

‘I want to kiss you,’ I hoarsely whisper. ‘Badly so.’

‘Badly so,’ he repeats with a self fulfilled grin on his face. He leans in closer to me and teasingly kisses my cheek, the tip of my nose and even my forehead. ‘Where?’ he whispers. ‘Where do you want me to kiss you?’

‘Right here,’ I whisper, before pressing my lips on his. They fit perfectly on each other. I cradle his face in my hands, as he pulls me closer to his body, though my legs are in the way. Without even thinking about it, I sit on his lap, causing him to smile underneath the kiss.

‘Badly so it was,’ he mumbles against my lips, his hands slipping underneath my shirt. He opens his mouth and carefully his tongue invades my mouth. I whimper, as his fingers dig into my back, his thumbs softly circling my stomach.

How many on screen kisses have I done?

Billions.

How many felt like this?

None.

I pull back, so I can catch my breath, but he is not giving me a break. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, pressing wet kisses on my delicate skin. ‘Can we stay here forever?’ he asks against my collarbone. ‘I don’t want to go back to the camera’s.’

‘Me neither,’ I whisper. I place my pointer finger underneath his chin, lifting his face. ‘How are we going to do this back at the cottage?’

‘Well,’ he chuckles, ‘we are already behaving like a cute couple, so we don’t have to change a lot about that. Just have to hold back the kisses.’

My fingers run through his curls, messing them up a little, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Henry simply smiles at me. ‘I think we can manage that,’ I say, smiling back at him.

‘Can I have another kiss?’ he asks.

‘You can,’ I whisper, before he captures my lips again. This kiss is even more intense and my fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt, when we hear someone clear their throat. We look up, to see a little boy staring at us, while his grandmother is screaming something in the back. ‘Maybe we should find another place,’ I suggest, stepping off his lap.

‘Yeah,’ Henry says, ‘maybe we should.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Adelaide: You were right.

Adelaide: I like Henry a lot

Dad: I’m always right

Adelaide: And I kissed him.

Dad: You didn’t?

Adelaide: I did, but please keep this a secret.

Dad: I can tell your eomma right?

Adelaide: Yes you can

Adelaide: I love you 😘

Dad: I love you too, future mrs. Cavill

Adelaide: Please, don’t.

◎ ◎ ◎

Taglist: @thelastsock // @jolly-polly // @henrythickcavill // @maan24 // @diegos-butt / @agniavateira // @onlyhenrys // @turkish276 //

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #the alluring charm of henry cavill #henry cavill x actress #henry cavill x adelaide park

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baby-witch-eli · 4 years ago

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Quantifying my Craft

I found this lovely post by @breelandwalker, who I totally recommend checking out, and it inspired me. My cards and horoscopes have been pushing me to reflect on my goals lately so this is exactly what I needed right now! I decided I'd give it a go.

Broad Concepts

I like to follow western traditions; Celtic traditions in particular are near and dear to my heart. This is why I chose to focus my worship in the Celtic Pantheon, and I'm currently working on building a relationship with Brigid. I would consider myself an eclectic, although divination and nature magic are my two main areas of focus. While I like to ask others for advice while I learn, magic is something I prefer to practice on my own. I've only been practicing since late January, interestingly enough I started around Imbolc. So far I've found intentions are the most important aspect of witchcraft and it has helped me greatly to practice intention in all aspects of my life.

Working Space

I began constructing an altar to Brigid yesterday. Frustratingly enough, my mother is going to have me put away all my small little items and decorations tomorrow as we're trying to sell our house. We won't be moving for a few more months though. I'm hoping I'll be able to keep the altar up but I'll look into online altar options if needed. I already keep an online altar to myself on an app called #SelfCare that I would highly recommended.

Right now my altar to Brigid has a white candle in a green holder; a sailor's knot I wore around my wrist until it started to come undone; a silver bell for music and creativity; the first piece of pottery I ever painted; a picture book of the traveling I did around Michigan a few years ago; an empty journal I hope to fill with art and poems dedicated to her; and a beaker (cauldron stand-in) I dedicated by burning a sigil in that holds nineteen white rose petals and a whisker my cat lost. I'm charging a carnelian and working on a piece of fox, the spirit guide she sent me, embroidery to add to the altar. It's positioned on top of an organizer I have on my desk, which is pushed up against a window.

There's a spot under my porch I wanted to use for meditation but I discovered I'm too jumpy and distractible to meditate outdoors. I don't like having my eyes closed when out of the open and I have an exaggerated startle response. Instead, I find it better for me to meditate in the bath. Sitting in water at least ankle deep with the lights off, after everybody else has gone to sleep and when the moon can shine through the window, is the ideal place for me to sit and follow a guided meditation. I find meditations that take me on a journey through my astral space are the most effective.

Ideally, I'd like to be able to have my own space where I can freely spread my altars and workspaces throughout the house. I want to be able to fill it with plants and books and cards and candles. While I'm at home trying to avoid suspicion from my Christian family, I just have to make the most of what I have.

Tools

My first deck is on the #SelfCare app. I call it my "Familiar Deck" as that's the one I'm most connected with. It's brutally honest, which I love. My second favorite deck is the "blue-eyed" deck I use for my Daily Draw. Another brutally honest deck and one I find to be very accurate. When asking Brigid questions, I prefer to use the Yes/No deck. It gives you your answer and is also good at accurately conveying "secondary," not yes/no, messages. You'll notice all of them are online and that's because, once again, I live with my Christian family and must be covert.

I have a quite a few crystals as I, thankfully, was interested in collecting them when I was younger. The tumbled crystals I have are small and few; most of my crystals are raw. I keep forgetting to charge them when there's a full moon out. I'll have to set a reminder or something to that effect. At the very least, I'm happy that I don't have to bother with trying to obtain any without my parents becoming suspicious. One of these days, I'd love to start collecting rings and wear several. It's also silly little dream of mine to get an onyx pendulum someday.

As far as books go, I bought a beautiful journal I've dedicated as my grimoire. It's dark blue with shiny, gold space decals. I would love to collect witchy books but I don't have money and I couldn't get away with it while living at home. I hear there's an excellent discord that stores witchy books and I think it's something I'll look into. For now, my information comes from my internet research. Thankfully, I did debate for several years, so I know how to find sources from accurate cites, but it certainly takes a lot of work to find good information that way.

The Year

I’m interested in learning more about the Wheel of the Year and incorporating it into my practice. Imbolc is especially important to me, as I worship the goddess Brighid. I missed it this year but I hope to celebrate it in the future. I have yet to study the important of dates outside of astrology so I’ll have to make sure I study it more.

History of My Magic

Honestly, I’ve always felt a very strong pull towards magic. I was raised in a very religious family though so I was always afraid that answering the call would condemn me. I grew up reading as many fantasy stories as I could, connecting with any animal I was able to, and spending as much time in the woods or by water as I could. The woods and the water have always felt full of magic to me and inspired me to want to practice witchcraft. Ever since I was little, I’ve had a great fondness and affection for the moon and stars. I’ve also always felt very drawn to Celtic folklore, magic, and Irish culture. I have distant family ties to Ireland and even though it’s a relatively minor aspect of my heritage, it’s always felt the most important to me. Movies like Song of the Sea and Brendan and the Secret of Kells helped tighten my bond with it. I even started learning as much as I could about the Fae after some books I read piqued my interest. I’ve always been the kid who kept a firm belief in magic even after all my friends “outgrew” it.

It took me a long time to finally answer the call to magic. Like I said, I was raised in a religious household. My grandparents even accused me of being a witch when I went through my Harry Potter phase! It actually made me rather pleased. There were a few times I came very close to beginning practicing witchcraft but I shied away for fear of Hell. It wasn’t until I finally was able to distance myself from the church earlier this year that I decided to start practicing magic behind my parents’ back. I’m very glad I did.

Progress

I’ve only been practicing for a few months. I’ve been very busy with college so it’s been pretty lax so far. I’m trying to build some sort of consistency. The end of the semester is a bad time for that, for sure. I’ve really connected with astrology and tarot-reading. Learning about the symbolism of different bugs and animals has also been something I’ve honestly also done, so it’s nice to be able to incorporate that into my practice. Dragonflies have always been signs of good luck for me (or bad omens, as the one time I saw one dead was one my Grammy found in her garage; she showed it to me a month or so before she passed away from cancer).

Recently, I began meditation. I met my spirit animal, a brown-eyed fox, who I ended up learning was sent by the goddess Brighid to guide me. I contacted Brighid about twice and set up an altar for her. The first time I heard her speak to me was when she was telling me I don’t drink enough water (I haven’t met with her since I pulled an all-nighter for college and I’m sure she’s not particularly pleased with that). I’m hoping to get back into my meditative practice soon. I’ve also needed to meditate to ask about a crow or raven that my sister and I kept crossing paths with while going out to lunch together. I’m not sure if it’s a sign of something or if the Morrigan wants to contact me. I’ve also heard the name Cernunnos repeated in my head lately so I’ve wanted to look into him too. I didn’t think I’d have anything to do with deities after my experiences with Christianity but Brighid quickly changed my mind.

Final Notes

I actually started writing this post a week or so ago but life got crazy. I’m in the last few weeks of my Freshman year of college, so it’s hectic. Right now I’m staying at a cabin in the mountains over the weekend, so I’m hoping this will give me the chance I need to wind down and reconnect with Brighid and my higher self. I’m hoping to get a daily routine going for my practice over the next few weeks.

#green witch #baby witch #witch tarot #witch notes #witch life #witch journey

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warren-lauren · 4 years ago

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Lessons in love... 80′s!Professor Brian May x Student!reader pt 4

Christmas with your family was thankfully over quickly without much arguing with your parents. Obviously, there was some, there is every year. Your dad thought you weren't good enough to become anything worth all this education, you should be married, your mother was at your age, was one his favourite sayings along with, you'll only give up at some point so just save yourself and me, some time and money.

The cold winter winds blew around you, blowing your coat and scarf as you walked down the streets of London. As much as you 'loved' your family, you were happy to be back... Home. You had a new life at college, living with Lucy, a place you felt accepted.

You were about to walk up to the library's entrance when you slipped on a patch of ice and nearly fell flat on your arse.

"Careful!" A pair of long arms wrapped around you before you could fall.

"Oh, fuck," You clutched hold of your saviour's arms, frightened of falling.

"Y/N?" You looked up to meet a familiar pair of hazel eyes. Your body betraying the mantra in your head. Never happened. Forget. "Bloody hell, are you okay, love?"

"I- uh, I, yes, thank you, Professor Ma-" Your brow creased as Brian began chuckling as he straightened you up onto both feet. "Why are you laughing?" You snapped a little.

Brian shook his head, his curls bouncing a little as he did. "I think you of all people can call me, Brian, love." He smiled, wrapping his coat around him a little tighter.

You glared up at him. "I don't think it's wise, do you? If I call you, Brian, then how am I supposed to forget what happened, like you said we had to." You raised your eyebrow.

Brian nodded, a heavy sigh passing his lips. "Fair enough," Brian cleared his throat. "Uh, good Christmas?"

You shrugged, looking down your feet. "As good as it could have been. You?"

Brian hummed, "What are you doing here then? Shouldn't you be off having fun in the snow?"

You shook your head with a smile, "As you saw, I don't really get on well with winter." You chuckle. "I've come to do some research. I've been struggling to understand something, so thought I'd come here for some extra studying whilst I had some spare time."

Brian nodded, "If you've got no objections, I could always help. It is my job after all." He smiled warmly at you.

You blushed a little, "Do you think it's appropriate?"

"What? A professor going into a library with a student to study, it might just be a little bit appropriate." He chuckled making you blush even more and look away from him.

"Okay," You nodded with a thankful smile. "That would be great... Brian."

Brian's lips curled up at the corners and then nodded, turning around. "Shall we?"

You nodded and quickly scurried ahead of him. Your head was a mix of emotions and right now all you wanted to do was get inside and try to remember what you were there to study.

----------

With Brian's help your little physics problem seemed easy to understand, and what you thought would take hours only took one, so why were you still sat in the same spot a couple of hours later.

"I don't blame you for not wanting to spend any longer there." Brian shook his head in disbelief after listening to your story about your parents. "I for one, think you're doing exceptionally well, and you're going to go on to do great things." He smiled at you making you blush and look down to your hands.

"Oh, hmm, thank you."

Brian nodded, tapping his long fingers on top of the table. "Uhm, so, do you know what you want, to do after college? Or are you still unsure?"

You let out a soft sigh, "Well, something to do with medicine... I think. That's what I've been studying for anyway."

Brian nodded with a small smile. "So, you want to become a Doctor?"

You shrugged, "I'm not sure, actually. Lucy thinks I should be a nurse." You rolled your eyes playfully.

"I think you'd look good as a nurse," Brian said without thinking. He quickly sat up and cleared his throat. "I mean, I can see you, doing that because, you're so, lovely, and-" Brian sighed at himself as you showed your amusement with a giggle.

You liked seeing him like this, blushing and a mumbling mess instead of the stern, so sure of himself 'professor'.

"I get what you mean." You reassured him with a smile.

Brian let out a short huff. "I'm glad one of us does." He cracked a smile making you giggle.

"What are your plans for New Year's Eve? Are 'the band' playing a 'gig'?" You used air quotes as you grinned cheekily at him making Brian laugh.

"Fortunately not, wouldn't want to ruin the start of anyone's new year." He joked. "Freddie's throwing one of his famous parties that I have to attend." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "What about you, love? Out partying with your friends?"

You shook your head. "Not this year. Lucy has a date with the boy she took home before Christmas, so I'll be spending it on my own in front of the TV."

Brian frowned slightly. The thought of you being alone caused something in him to do... something. "Oh, that doesn't sound much fun."

You shrugged, "It'll be fine."

Brian nodded with a soft sigh and rubbed his forehead. "I don't think I'll be able to enjoy myself knowing you're all alone."

"I'll be fine." You smiled at him. "Most likely won't even make it to midnight." You let out a sigh. "What an exciting life I live." You joked making Brian laugh.

There was another silence between the two of you before Brian cleared his throat and looked up to meet your gaze. "What if I said I might have an idea?" He gave you a devilish smile, filling your stomach with nerves and excited butterflies.

----------

This had to be by far the stupidest thing you've ever done. Your leg bounced nervously in the footwell as you looked out of the passenger's window, worrying about what you were about to do.

"Hey," Brian reached over and placed his hand over yours that was tapping your knee repeatedly. He took his eyes off the road to briefly look at you and smiled. "What did we say? Hmm?"

"No need to worry, I won't know anyone." You nodded as you recited his words from earlier.

Brian had suggested that you go to Freddie's party with him as his date. You were shocked by his casual attitude towards the whole situation.

"There's absolutely no way in hell, you will know anyone there."

And of course, he was right, but it was still a bad idea. He was your professor for crying out loud.

"Well, yeah, but we've already shagged so-" He shrugged and grinned cheekily at you making you blush, "I promise, we'll just go as friends. I'm still technically, not your professor until next week."

You nodded at him, although he couldn't see you since he was looking back at the road. "I know no one will know me, but what if someone-"

"Y/N," Brian spoke as he pulled up outside of a house that was lit up like a Christmas tree. He turned to look at you once he'd shut the car off and smiled. "I wouldn't have suggested this if I thought there was any chance of this going wrong. We're both completely free to enjoy ourselves tonight. Besides, just friends, right?" He smiled slightly.

You nodded, feeling a little disheartened. "Friends."

Brian grinned, "C'mon,"

The two of you got out of his car. Brian quickly jogged round to your side and held his hand out for you, and you happily took it, liking the way his much larger hand surrounded yours. Then the two of you made your way into the party.

You were nervous as well because you were wearing a rather revealing dress. To stop Lucy being suspicious, you packed a bag of clothes and met Brian in a quiet coffee shop that no one you knew went near before he took you to his to get ready for the party. He helped you pick an outfit that would be perfect for the evening, which was a strapless figure-hugging black dress that came to your knees.

"BRIAN!" Freddie bounded up to you, pulling Brian into a big hug. He pulled back and smiled at you. "And, Brian's date. Hello,"

"Hello," You blushed with a shy smile.

Brian chuckled and put his arm around your shoulders, hoping to comfort you. "This is, Y/N, Fred. Remember, from that night at the pub-"

"Of course!" Freddie cut Brian off Your friends left you." Freddie nodded. "Bastards." He huffed making you giggle. "Well, it's lovely to meet you again, darlin' and might I add, you're looking drop-dead GORGEOUS!" He took your hand and raised it in the air. "Beautiful."

"Oh, thank you." You blushed even more.

"Come. I'll introduce you to Roger and John. Brian, go get your lovely girlfriend a drink." Freddie ordered as he walked off away from Brian still holding your hand, not giving either of you chance to correct him.

You looked over your shoulder to see Brian's curls slowly disappear in the crowd.

"Deaky!" Freddie walked up to brunette with a smile, placing his hand on his shoulder to get his attention. "John, meet Y/N, Brian's date."

"Oh, hello." He smiled, holding his hand out to you. "Nice to meet you."

You smiled back, "And you."

"And this here," Freddie turned you to a blonde man beside him. "This is Roger. Roger, darlin', this is Y/N, Brian's date."

Roger's face screwed up slightly. "Where's she come from?"

Freddie rolled his eyes. "They met at that pub we played at before Christmas. That night you had to take his guitar home."

Roger's eyes widened, along with his smile. "Ah, you're the one who's knickers I found on the floor."

Your eyes widened. You'd forgotten about that. In fact, you never got those back off Brian.

"It's nice to meet you, love." Roger smiled as he took your hand in his.

You nodded, "You too."

Roger let go of your hand, looking you up and down as he did. "How in the hell did Brian manage to get you into bed?" He chuckled.

"Roger," Freddie scolded with a small smirk. "At least let the poor girl get a drink in her before you start teasing her."

Roger was about to say something in return when Brian appeared by your side with a drink for you. He looked between his friends than to you with a soft frown. "What's happened?"

You shook your head with a small laugh. "Roger was just telling me how he's had his hands on my knickers." You smirked up at him, taking the offered drink from his hand.

Brian's mouth fell open. "W-What?"

Laughter erupted from the four of you as Brian looked confused.

"Oh, I like her already, darlin'." Freddie grinned. "Why didn't you tell us you were seeing someone, Brian?"

You blushed looking up to Brian, taking a big sip of your drink as he looked from you to his friends. "Oh, um, because we're just friends, Fred."

"Friends?" Roger asked, scoffing when Brian nodded his head. "Friends who've already shagged." He smirked, sending you a wink as you blushed even more.

Brian rolled his eyes, "Yes, Roger." Brian sighed, slipping his arm around your shoulders. "C'mon, love, I'll go introduce you to some other friends." You nodded, waving a quick goodbye to the boys as Brian took you away from them.

As the night went on, you found yourself talking more and more to not only Brian but his friends too. At one point you even danced with Freddie and John. The entire time Brian kept his eye on you, mostly to make sure you were enjoying yourself and you were safe, but also because he couldn't help himself. You look so beautiful.

"Alright everyone, it's almost MIDNIGHT!" Freddie stood in front of everyone as the music was lowered and the countdown began.

"What's your new year's resolution?" You asked Brian as the two of you stood together.

Brian thought about it as he wrapped his around your waist.

Throughout the night the two of you drank and relaxed, forgetting you shouldn't be doing what you were, and let yourself just be. Your hands clasped together more and more, you pressed more and more kisses to Brian's cheek. He even pressed a kiss or two to your forehead.

"I'm going to be, a little nicer in my lectures. Let people know if they're doing well." He smiled softly down at you. "What about you, love?"

You smiled as your arm snaked around his waist. "I'm not going to be scared to go to my professor's office hours." You blushed.

Brian's brow creased, "You're scared? Why?"

You shrugged. "It's daft, really, but I thought because you were being so hard on me, that you hated me, so I didn't want to waste my time."

"I'm sorry, Y/N, that's the last thing I wanted. My door is always open to you." He smiled.

"Ready everyone?! 10... 9... 8..."

You counted down along with everyone, excited for the new year to start. As the last few numbers came along you looked up to meet Brian's gaze.

"... 2... 1... HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Brian's hand cupped your cheek as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours to celebrate the new year. The two of you pulled back after a few seconds with matching smiles as you stared into one another's eyes.

You reached up, pulling Brian's face closer to yours so you could press a harder kiss to his lips this time. He kissed back, his arms wrapping around your body as your tongues tangled with one another. This wasn't meant to be happening but you couldn't stop it. You needed this to happen. You wanted it.

"WHEY! GO ON BRI!" Roger shouted as he walked past the two of you, causing the two of you to break your intense kiss.

Brian didn't look away from you as he reached up and cupped your face in his hands. "Are you sure?" He whispered, his eyes moving between yours and your lips, desperate to taste you again.

You nodded. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't." You smiled up at him, making Brian grin before he leaned back in to press his lips against yours.

"Let's go home." He whispered against your mouth.

"Okay." You smiled up at him, letting him take your hand in his.

#Professor Brian May x reader smut #Brian May #brianmay #Brian Harold May #Dr. Brian May #dr brian may #professor brian may #brian may x reader smut #Brian May smut

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igotbulletproof-insomnia · 4 years ago

Text

Adopting Bangtan 08

01 previous

Supermarket Sweep

You were never going grocery shopping with seven kids ever again in your life.

The chaos. The absolute chaos was something that you somehow never expected. You actually thought that shopping with all seven kids would be the most efficient way to accomplish the task. Sit Kookie in the cart and let him “help” you by picking out the area to shop and hold the bags while you pick the vegetables. Send Yoongi and Namjoon to buy the snacks because they were the most sensible of all of the children and wouldn't have you spending way more money than necessary. Let Taehyung and Jimin retrieve the bread and the milk. Let Seokjin pick the meat because he was surprisingly talented at the job. And then everyone was supposed to meet you back at the shopping cart, still located in produce, so that you could pay and you all could go home. It should have taken thirty minutes, tops.

Instead, you found yourself chasing Taehyung around the store while Jimin kept an eye on Jungkook and you really, really hoped that he didn’t grab the most expensive apples on display, but you have the feeling that he would — because of course, he would. Prices didn’t seem to exist to any of the younger kids.

Instead, Jin was throwing a fit because all of the meats on display were apparently complete rubbish and he refused to let you spend money on anything but the most expensive cuts of beef so you “just have to” make another stop at the actual butcher’s shop. Granted, if Jimin spent all of your money on asparagus, your family would be eating vegetarian this week.

Instead, as soon as you managed to grab Taehyung, who apparently just wanted to replace Jungkook as your shopping partner, Namjoon appeared with a reasonable request for more variety in tea for the house. Which opened up a whole new can of worms as Taehyung realized he can ask for things too. This had him running back to Jimin and the shopping cart with a grin on his face, demanding that they find the snack aisle because you were going to buy them extra snacks if they asked, and Jimin’s face lit up with a smile so bright that dammit, it was going to be hard to explain what a budget was and why it wasn’t a good idea to exceed it.

(and yeah, you checked. Jimin grabbed the most expensive radish and lettuce he could find, and you were going to have to break out the vegetarian cookbook.)

(except for the bananas. It seemed Jungkook picked up the bananas)

Thankfully, Yoongi — lovely, beautiful, blessed Yoongi — had been returning to the shopping cart with his arms full of a variety of snacks, all low in price but high in popularity at home. He took one look at the chaos of whining and fussing children, rolled his eyes heavenwards, and took control.

“You get one.”

His tone left no room for argument; even you stood straight and stopped making a scene. Yoongi led the group back to the snack aisle and replaced everything he picked and let the others run wild. Together, you watched the others pick out snacks and place them, one by one, into the shopping cart.

“... They’re going to blow the snack budget like this,” you commented idly.

“I know.”

“That’s why you put the rest back, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And these snacks aren’t going to last as long as they usually do, will they?”

“Not at all.”

“Thank goodness you’re so smart,” you ruffled his hair. “This is why I keep you around.”

“You keep me around because you don’t want me living by myself and I save you from going broke.” Yoongi’s tone was as matter of fact as ever and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Like I said, smart kid.”

Yoongi grinned back. You liked the fact that these kids didn’t take you too seriously. You had a good balance of deference, respect, and playfulness with all of them, even if you weren’t sure who actually ran the household most of the time. “Go pick you something, Yoon. You don’t have anything for yourself.”

“You can’t afford what I want.”

“I probably can’t afford what anyone wants, they aren’t paying attention to the prices.” And indeed, Taehyung and Jimin, your babies with the most expensive tastes, were debating the merits of two snacks that were way outside of the price range you would normally consider. But again, Jimin’s smile was so broad that you were reluctant to tell him no and watch that fearful, nervous look fall back into place. You would talk to him about budgets and restrictions another time. “I’ll make it work, don’t worry about it right now.”

With a grateful smile, Yoongi asked you to grab the snack he wanted, placed just out of his reach on a top shelf. It wasn’t priced too far out of budget, but it was different from the things he normally selected for your busy household of eight. You made a mental note to pay attention to how much Yoongi enjoyed the snack and check the stores for similar ones. The kid did so much and asked for so little, it would be nice to do this one thing for him.

“Wait a moment…” you frowned, counting off. “Where’s Hoseok?” Immediately all of the children quieted down, looking to each other as if to confirm that yes, someone was missing.

“Wasn’t he supposed to go with Jin-hyung?” asked Namjoon.

“No, I thought he was keeping Jimin and Taetae company?”

“Oh my God, you lost Hoseok.” That accusing tone came from Taehyung, and you watched Jimin’s face go from lightweight confused to completely devastated. You hated it, had suspicion that he was wondering if you would eventually do the same thing to him, if you would get bored or disappointed or angry and cast him off, lose him in a store or at a park like Hoseok explained happened to him, like all of Jimin’s previous parents did to him.

“Okay, boys,” you shouted, uncaring of the stares you attracted. The boys startled, but gave you their full attention, which was one hundred percent more than you’d had the entire grocery trip. You continued to speak firmly, and could tell the show of authority did more to calm their panic than the shouting. You decided that they needed to focus on something other than their lost brother. “This is what we’re going to do: Namjoon, you’re going to take Taetae and Jimin and get the bread, milk, and all the dairy stuff like I told you before, okay? Add eggs to that list. Yoongi, go get the paper products. Get the brands we used to get, not the ones we used last time, they’re cheaper and sturdier. Seokjin, we’ll go to the butcher’s if we have the budget when we finish here, but I promised we could have meat for dinner, so take Kookie and find something, okay?” All of the boys nodded at their assignment. “Good. Yoongi, Joonie, find Jin when you’ve got your things. Seokjin, when you’ve finished, wait for me in produce. You all understand? I’m going to go find Hoseok. He probably got distracted and can’t find us.” Hoseok had a habit of doing that. He often got lost among the chaos, because while everyone was being loud and boisterous, Hoseok was often quiet and did the things that went unnoticed. If you assigned dairy, meat, and snacks, then Hoseok probably went off to grab paper towels or rice or something you needed at home but forgot about. You wouldn’t be surprised if he came to the store with the list Yoongi and Jin never felt the need to write.

So the kids separated, worried and mumbling to each other, but occupied with their tasks. They were trusting in your ability, in your promise to locate their missing brother before you all went home. Whether these kids were abandoned by their parents (or maybe ran away from home, Seokjin never discussed why he chose to stay with his former teacher) , you found them and chose to take care of them. It was understandable that they would be worried. Up until now you had probably seemed like some sort of savior to them. Maybe not infallible, and definitely not… whatever it was that made other adults seem parental, but you had taken care of them, kept track of them, and protected them. Losing one of them had probably shaken their hearts.

It didn’t take long before you Hoseok as you predicted, standing in the frozen section, a piece of paper and pen in his hands. He bit his tongue as he read through it, humming to himself and ticking off items. A hand basket sat at his feet, overfilled with supplies.

“I’m pretty sure you should have an actual shopping cart for that,” you told him. Hoseok startled, jumping nearly a foot in the air and shouting in surprise. The petty, upset parent part of you feels satisfied for it, like Hoseok got what he deserved for scaring you the way he did. The more rational part of your brain is just glad that you were right and he hadn’t been kidnapped. Casually, you looked over the basket. “I didn’t even think about checking the spice cabinet. You’re a clever kid.”

“I just wanted to be helpful,” Hoseok replied with a shrug.

“It would have been helpful if you told me where you were going.”

“... I didn’t do that?” Hoseok’s eyes went big and wandered left and right. He seemed to be making himself smaller, pulling his arms close and leaning away from you.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I… oh.”

“We got very scared,” you explained. “We thought you got lost. The other boys were panicking.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… everyone else got an assignment and I didn’t, so…”

“So you thought I wouldn’t notice if you disappeared for a bit.” You nodded and ignored Hoseok’s flinch when you crouched down to his level. He wasn’t terribly short, he was actually almost as tall as your shoulder, but it was always easier to have these sorts of talks when you weren’t looming over him. “It’s okay, I’m not mad about you shopping on your own. I’m actually really glad that you took initiative to do something helpful. But you did scare me. I didn’t know what happened to you. I didn’t know if you got lost or ran away or if someone stole you from me. I’m glad I know you well enough to assume you brought your own list, but I was still afraid of being wrong. I really, really don’t know what I would do if you went missing, Hoseok. I haven’t had you for long, but my heart would hurt. I care about you that much, okay? So please, communicate. Tell me when you’re going to wander away, and tell me where you’re going so that I know you are safe.” Hoseok nodded fervently, most likely an effort to convince you he was sincere and wouldn’t disappear on you again. You opened your arms for a hug, You opened your arms for a hug, partially to comfort yourself, but mostly to soothe Hoseok. He looked like he might burst into tears and needed the comfort.

“Okay, good.” You squeezed the kid tight, your hold unrelenting until you felt the kid push away. “Alright, let me see that list of yours.” Together, you and Hoseok went through his list, and you were amazed that he was so thorough. Apparently the kid started taking stock as soon as you mentioned the intent to go to the grocery store earlier in the week. Hoseok noticed that you had a habit of leaving something out and he thought that making a list would be helpful. When you decided that you were going to take all of the kids with you, he decided to just hold on to the list himself.

“From now on, you’re making grocery lists,” you decided as you made your way back to Jin. “Maybe even all of the lists if you’re this organized. What do you think of that?”

Hoseok grinned, obviously proud of himself. “I think that sounds awesome!” He cheered. “Is this like how Yoongi gets to be in charge of the budget and Jin is in charge of the kitchen and Joonie is in charge of all of us?”

“Kind of yes, something like that,” you said. “Because obviously I’ll lose my head otherwise.”

“I’m sure we’ll keep track of your head too if you want.”

“Ah, why are all of my kids so snarky? I don’t deserve this,” you cried, hugging Hoseok more tightly to your waist. “All I do is give them love and a home, and they pay me back in sass.”

“But you love us, right?” Hoseok asked. His voice was a little softer than before, and you saw it for the genuine question that it was, not the joke that it would have been had it come from Jin, Joon, or Yoon.

“Of course,” you told him. “Don’t you doubt that for a second.”

When you went searching for the rest of the kids, you found them standing by Jin with the shopping cart, all lined up on the side of the aisle and eerily quiet. Even Jungkook in the shopping cart was holding his hands in his lap, eyes down cast.

“Do I want to know what happened here?”

“No,” was the resounding answer.

“Okay, good.” You shake off your curiosity. Whether that was because you trusted Seokjin or because you were afraid of the answer, you were undecided. “Hoseok, do you want to delegate tasks? We have a few more things on your list, right?” Hoseok noded, and set about sending his brothers off in pairs to retrieve the remaining items on his checklist. After the two sets had wandered off, Hoseok looked up again.

“Could you…?”

“Seokjinnie, you good by yourself?”

“I’ll have Kookie with me, it will be great.” Jin shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“We’ll still meet over in produce when you’re finished, okay?”

Jin huffed his frustration at the meat selection. “I think we’re just having fish tonight. Is that fine with you?”

“If it’s okay with your brothers, it’s okay with me.”

“They’ll be fine with it,” Seokjin declared. His tone said he was still very irritated with whatever happened while you were gone.

“Get some cheaper produce when you’re finished, please.”

“Sure thing,” Seokjin agreed absently, wandering further up the aisle.

“Holler if you need me,”

“I will.”

“Just don’t scare everyone when you do.”

“Now you’re just taking away my fun.”

After all of that, you spent another fifteen minutes in the store. The trip to the butcher’s shop was put off for the following night, and you all made the unanimous decision to eat ramen and kimchi for dinner. You were also very loud about never bringing seven kids grocery shopping ever again.

That was, until two weeks later when Jimin’s adorable pout convinced you that they would be on their absolute bestest behavior (spoiler alert: they weren’t).

To find more of my child-bangtan fics, select the "Collecting Strays" tag at the bottom of this page ^_^

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