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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years ago

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Faking It | Part IV

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

GUYS! Thank you so much for all the love on this story! I'm so amazed at how popular it's become. It really means the world to me that ya'll are enjoying it so much, so thank you <3

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: swearing, excessive drinking, FLUFF.. like so much fluff (should've led with that XD)

Start from the beginning: Part I

“Didn’t you drive here, Y/N?” your sister asks as you take your sixth – or eighth – shot; you might have lost count.

You shrug. “I’ll take an Uber.”

Your sister purses her lips. “Or we could call Steven. I bet he’d love to give you a ride home.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you respond curtly.

Your sister gives you a pointed look. “You only moved to North Island two months ago. How serious can it be? You and Steven are soulmates.”

You cringe. “I really hope not.”

“Fine.” Your sister waves a hand. “Call the aviator.”

“I don’t need to call anyone. I’ll take an Uber.”

Several drinks and a questionable table dancing situation later, you’ve ventured into the heart of the crowd, losing yourself entirely to the beat of the music. A few songs in, you feel a hand brush over your shoulder and you jerk away, nearly losing your balance in the process.

Bradley’s fingers close around your arm to keep you steady.

“Oh,” you say. “It’s you.”

Bradley furrows his brows. “Who else would it be?” he asks.

You dismiss the question with a wave of your hand. “Never mind,” you say. “What are you doing here?”

“Our parties are merging,” he says. “I think we’re all heading to the pub across the street. They serve late. Are you okay?” he asks as you sway on the spot.

“I’m fantastic,” you respond, giving him a broad smile. You let yourself admire the colorful lights dancing across his face in the darkness of the club because you’re far beyond caring whether he catches you staring. Yes, Bradley Bradshaw can be annoying as hell but there’s no denying that he’s good looking. “Let’s go,” you say, starting for the exit. “I could go for another drink.”

You end up veering into a couple of guys who jeer at you in response. One of them tries to grab your ass. Bradley quickly takes a hold of your shoulders, aiming a livid glare at the men in question, and steers you away. “You sure you’re alright?” he murmurs into your ear from behind, his hands still guiding you.

“Totally,” you respond distantly, relaxing so much into his grasp that your legs start wobbling in your heels.

“I don’t know if having more to drink is the best idea,” he says when you get to the door.

You glance up at him sleepily, leaning into the wall near the exit as you wait for the others. It feels amazing to have Bradley looking out for you, but also nauseating because you know he’s only doing it for show. “I’ll be fine,” you say dismissively.

Bradley’s eyes search your face suspiciously, as though he can tell something is bothering you. He doesn’t have a chance to ask, though, because at that moment, your sister shows up.

“Y/N!” she calls as she approaches you. “Drinks at the Rusty Raven, come on!” She stops before you and Bradley and looks him up and down. “Okay, aviator,” she comments on his getup. “Not bad.”

Bradley holds back a smile, adjusting the collar of his leather jacket. “Thank you,” he says.

“Good on you not flipping out about Steven,” she says.

You close your eyes, hanging your head.

“What about Steven?” he asks. You look up to find his expression has hardened.

“Did I speak too soon?” Your sister grimaces.

Bradley studies your face, then glances between you and your sister. “Somebody’s going to have to elaborate.”

“He came by earlier,” your sister says nonchalantly.

“He did what?” Bradley asks, and you notice his fists clenching at his sides.

“Oh, don’t worry,” your sister pats Bradley on the arm. “She wanted nothing to do with him.”

“He really is a piece of work, isn’t he?” Bradley shakes his head. “Where is he?” He starts looking around.

“I don’t think he’s here,” your sister says quickly, giving you a knowing look.

You nod at her, bringing a hand to your spinning head. “Listen, sis, I think we’re just going to head back to the resort. I’m so tired all of a sudden, I really need to go to sleep.” You do not want to chance a confrontation between Bradley and Steven tonight, considering how drunk Steven was during your last encounter.

Your sister smiles at you, wiggling her eyebrows. “Yeah, you’re going to go home and sleep.”

You nearly burst out laughing at her insinuation but catch yourself just in time. If only she knew the torment that awaits you back at the chalet.

…

Bradley steadies you as you stumble along the boardwalk that leads back to the row of beach houses on the water. Your heels keep catching on the planks and your legs keep tangling as if they’re new to walking. You decide to remove your heels and, leaning your weight into Bradley, you lift one of your legs to unclasp your shoe. The moment your foot leaves the ground, however, you start to tip over.

You let out a yelp as Bradley grabs you before you could fall. “I’ve got you,” he says. “Here, let me.” He crouches down and you lean your weight into his shoulder as he starts pulling on the straps of your heels. You feel yourself wobbling so you put your hands on his head, your fingers instinctively running through his soft, wavy hair.

Once he’s unstrapped your heels, you step out of them and he picks them up. He rises slowly and your hands trail down to his shoulders and then to his chest as you are still relying on him for support. “Thanks,” you say, giving him a smile.

“Anytime,” he responds.

You chuckle. “I’ll just holler whenever I need my shoes removed.”

Bradley laughs. “You do that.”

You bite your lip, thankful that the darkness of the evening hides the subtle blush creeping up your cheeks. You start walking again but, as you make your way past the beach, you suddenly get an idea. Stopping abruptly, you detach yourself from Bradley and veer to the side of the boardwalk, hopping down into the cool evening sand.

“Where are you going?” he calls.

You glance back at him with a wily smirk. “I’m going swimming.”

“Uh,” you hear him say behind you. “Right now?”

“Are you coming?” you ask, turning back to look at him and teetering as you do. You dig your feet into the ground to stabilize yourself and the sand feels amazing under your feet after the torture of your heels. You curl your toes in blissfully, but the slight imbalance on your feet causes you to stagger backward.

“Careful,” he says, stepping off the boardwalk toward you, his fingers still curled around the straps of your shoes. “Maybe we can do this tomorrow?” he suggests.

“C’mon, Bradshaw,” you say, giggling as you try to find your center of gravity. “Live a little.”

“Live a little?” he says, smirking. “You know I fly jets for a living, right?”

“Ooh, that’s right. He’s a fighter pilot,” you respond teasingly. You stick your arms out at your sides and start swerving to imitate an airplane.

Bradley laughs, shaking his head.

“You think that makes you cool?” you ask, slowly walking backward to the shoreline.

“Undeniably,” he says, following you up the beach.

You laugh and then squeal as a surge of cold water washes over your feet from behind. You jump toward Bradley, clinging to his t-shirt. “It’s freezing!”

Bradley chuckles, putting his arm around you. “What did you expect?”

You drop your head into his chest. “I thought I’d be drunk enough not to notice.”

You feel the low rumble in Bradley’s chest as he chuckles. His arm tightens around you. “Y/N,” he says gently, lowering his head so that you could hear him over the lapping of the water. “Not that I don’t want to throw you into these cold, dark, possibly crocodile infested waters, but I was thinking – on account of your possibly altered state of mind and all – perhaps we should take a rain check.”

You chuckle, nodding your head against his body, and he starts to steer you back toward the boardwalk. “You think there are crocodiles here?” you ask, picking up your pace. “I’m barefoot.”

Bradley laughs. “You think your heels could save you?”

You shriek and start to run ahead.

“What?” he calls, jogging after you.

“I felt something on my leg!” you yell.

“It was probably just grass. If it were a crocodile, you wouldn’t be running anymore,” he responds with a laugh.

“Bradley!” you screech as he catches up to you. “Stop freaking me out!”

“Come here,” he mutters, squatting quickly to wrap his arm around your legs and lift you off the ground.

You let out a yelp and he chuckles, carrying you upright as if it’s completely effortless. Your head spins and you bend at the hip to lean forward over his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut and praying you don’t throw up all over his back.

“You alright?” he asks.

“I think I’m dying,” you croak.

“We’re almost there,” he says.

When he walks up to your door, he sets you down gingerly, holding his arms out as he rises to ensure that you don’t fall. You’re so dizzy that you have to grab his forearm to steady yourself as he reaches for his key with the other hand.

He’s watching you carefully as he sticks his key into the lock. “What did he do?” he asks.

You look up at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Bradley sets his jaw, turning the key. “Did he do something to you?”

“Not enough to warrant the pepper spray, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you respond.

“Stalking you is enough, if you ask me,” he says gruffly, pushing into the door and guiding you to go ahead of him.

You make your way inside, swaying from side to side. Bradley keeps at least one hand on you at all times, making sure you don’t trip over anything. “He just pisses me off,” you say, heading straight for the bed. You collapse onto the mattress sideways, closing your eyes. “Can we not talk about him?” you ask quietly.

Bradley walks over to the minifridge and pulls it open as you prop yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. You aren’t exactly in the condition to analyze the state of your relationship but, nonetheless, you try to remember the last time a friend carried you home when you were too bombed to walk straight and displaying an irrational fear of reptiles. Then again, Bradley is one of the nicest people you’ve ever met, so you imagine that he’d probably carry your aunt home if she were a drunk enough, lizard-fearing mess.

Bradley approaches you, holding out a water bottle. “Drink this,” he says. You sit up and take the bottle from him as he extends his other hand to drop two tablets into your palm. “And take this.”

“I don’t have a headache,” you say, examining the pills in your hand.

“You will,” he says.

You look up at him, smirking. “Speaking from experience?”

He gives you a soft smile before backing away to remove his jacket. He hangs it on a clothes tree and digs his wallet and car keys out of the back pocket of his jeans, setting them down on the dresser. He glances over at you, presumably checking if you’re following his advice. You take the cap off the bottle, realizing that he’d already unscrewed it for you, and bring it to your lips. He studies you for another moment before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

You drink the entire bottle as instructed and then lay your head onto the pillow with a sigh, replaying every word Bradley has said to you over the course of the evening. Most of it had been for the benefit of your sister – the anger, the curled-up fists – but there were moments where you felt that he was genuinely upset by Steven’s actions. Regardless, his aversion to Steven doesn’t necessarily indicate that he has feelings for you. Before you could continue speculating on Bradley’s sentiments, he returns from the bathroom.

He approaches the bed, crouching down at your side and resting his hand by your head. “How’re you doing?” he asks.

You blink at him sleepily. “Everything is spinning,” you say weakly.

His eyebrows converge sympathetically and he lifts his other hand to brush some hair out of your face. You stare into his dark eyes, wondering how the fuck you’d never fallen for him before this godforsaken trip.

“Hey, Rooster,” you murmur as your eyelids become increasingly heavy.

He cocks his head slightly. “You’ve never called me that,” he says.

“Only because it’s so ridiculous,” you say with your eyes closed.

“You think my callsign is ridiculous?” You can sense the smile in his voice.

“Well,” you reason groggily. “Roosters don’t fly.”

Bradley chuckles. “They shouldn’t,” he agrees. “I guess I’m the exception.”

You open your eyes to find him watching you wistfully. “Please don’t sleep on the couch,” you say. “You’re going to damage your spine.”

Bradley lifts an eyebrow skeptically, biting into his lip in amusement. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Don’t argue,” you say.

“I’m not arguing.”

“We can be adults about this,” you say. “We can make a pillow wall if you think the temptation will be too unbearable,” you add, smirking.

Bradley chuckles. “A pillow wall is the most adult thing I’ve ever heard.”

You smile. “Good. Now, come to bed because I’m falling asleep,” you say, closing your eyes again.

Bradley gently runs his thumb over your forehead before removing his hand from your pillow as he rises. You open your eyes slightly as he lifts his shirt over his head and goes to turn off the light. You gulp, wondering why you’re putting yourself through this agony. What you should be doing is ignoring your feelings – which are merely the result of you needing a good lay – until the weekend is over and you could go back to being just friends with Bradley Bradshaw. Instead, you’re taking every opportunity to get closer to him, even if it’ll never truly be close enough.

Bradley climbs into the bed and you decide to continue ‘sleeping’, until you feel the movement of pillows against your back. You turn around slowly, eyeing Bradley as he arranges a wall of pillows in between the two of you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you ask.

He looks up at you pointedly. “The pillow wall,” he replies.

You start giggling. “I was joking.”

“I believe you said something about temptation,” he says, his voice slightly husky as he leans into his elbow on the bed.

Your heart flutters at his words, but you internalize the sensation and move on. “I’m still in my dress,” you say, glossing over the topic of temptation as if it hasn’t been consuming you for the past two days. You lift the covers and sit up quickly, groaning when the dizziness catches up with your head due to the sudden momentum. “Look away for a sec,” you say, hanging your legs off the bed.

You hear a shuffle behind you as Bradley turns in the other direction. You hop out of bed and stagger to your bag, nearly falling over as you bend down. You let out a small cry and Bradley sits up in the bed. “You okay?” he asks. “Do you need help?”

You look over at him reproachfully. “Changing?”

He chuckles. “Walking.” He’s wearing a half-smile and you can hardly handle the fact that he’s sitting shirtless in your bed. He looks so sexy, you could die.

You plop yourself down on the floor clumsily, still rocking from your excessive alcohol consumption, and dig through your bag for your pajamas. “I’ll crawl back.”

Bradley laughs, lowering himself back onto the bed and turning away again.

You change out of your dress and return to the bed. You pull the blanket over yourself while Bradley rolls onto his back and turns his head to look at you. “How’re you feeling?”

“Cold,” you say. “I should’ve put on some socks. But I’m not getting up again.”

Bradley cringes. “You wear socks to bed?”

“If the situation warrants socks, I wear socks,” you say, lying on your side, facing him.

Bradley turns his body to face you too, keeping a strict foot of empty space in between your bodies despite the absence of a pillow wall. “I like your pjs,” he says.

You smile at him in amusement. “You like my pjs?”

He nods. “They’re cute.”

You snort, although you have to agree. Your pajamas are space themed, and the shorts are sprinkled with stars while the top features a cluster of the Solar System’s planets, with Pluto sulking in the corner as if it’s been excluded from the party. “They’re comfy,” you say.

“They look comfy,” Bradley replies.

You pull the covers all the way up to your neck and clutch them under your chin, shivering.

Bradley, whose upper body is completely uncovered, reaches across no man’s land to find your hands as they cling to the edge of the blanket. He wraps his fingers around your fists. “How are you cold? It’s like a million degrees in here.”

“It’s freezing!” you respond, your teeth chattering. “We should turn down the AC.”

Bradley’s eyes scan your face as he considers whether or not to say what he’s about to say. He squints his eyes, speaking hesitantly, “I could warm you up.”

You blink up at him, your mind racing through all the possibilities of what that could mean. Whatever it does mean, you’re probably up for it. “Okay,” you respond cautiously.

He releases your hands and brings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you forward as he shifts closer to you. You lift the blanket to cover the both of you, already feeling the heat of his body as you tuck your head underneath his chin. Your legs find his under the blanket and you slide one of your legs in between his, sighing softly as your body starts to warm up. He runs his hand up and down your back before finally resting his arm over your side. Your arms are squeezed in between your bodies, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as well as the frantic beating of your own heart.

You wonder vaguely how you’ll ever go back to being just friends with Bradley Bradshaw when you’ve become so deeply infatuated with him. Every one of his touches accelerates your heartbeat, every one of his glances makes your head spin nearly as much as the Grey Goose that’s currently filtering through your veins. His smile consumes your thoughts even when he’s nowhere near you, and you could probably listen to him talk indefinitely just to have his pleasant baritone playing in your ear.

You close your eyes and take a shallow breath. Bradley’s chest smells like a mixture of pine trees and cologne. His skin is smooth and warm, and his steady breathing is so soothing that you could get lost in its rhythm forever. This entire weekend may be a sham, but somehow it feels more real than anything you’ve ever experienced.

Read Part V

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queenofmistandshadows · 3 years ago

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!!! WARNING: KINGDOM OF THE CURSED SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Hey, it’s me again!

I found more interesting passages on KOTC.

When Emilia first met the Crone, Wrath was on edge, being really wary about what Celestia was saying. First, she said something about a temple at the Shifting Isles (the place where later on “Vittoria” tells Emilia to go and meet her) and then she talks about The Feared - what makes Wrath interrupt the conversation.

And when Emilia is confronting Wrath she said this:

So maybe Emilia is related to “The Feared” whatever they are - Emilia always talks about vengeance - AND I also thought The Feared could be the eighth circle (which probably used to exist cause there is a missing journal)

Besides that, maybe this circle is returning and that is what the VIII in the note Emilia found in Wrath’s personal library meant:

Also, Celestia said this about new sins stirring.

So, in their past lives Emilia and Vittoria were both cursed I guess, but I cannot connect them directly with the First Witch if not by the theory that one of them is her daughter.

Besides that, all the symbolism about moons and divine things are so suspicious and they are all related to Emilia, so she could be directly tied to something divine as well.

(The following is just especulation at this point)

And if that is true, she is connected to a moon goddess - the Crone called her Daughter of the Moon, the statue in the garden had crescent moons, the mare she rode in the feast had a little moon on her forehead, the phases of the moon in the Crescent Shallow’s wall, her suite being all moon themed etc.

The First Witch is daughter of the sun goddess with a demon, so I was thinking that Emilia might be daughter or a direct descendant of a moon goddess and that is why she is so powerful. Besides that, everything connected to the witches or the goddess is related to the color purple - the purple light of the cornicellos, the lavender mare, the color of the Crone’s hair, the light Nonna emites when banning Envy to Hell, etc.

Vittoria’s eyes are purple when Emilia finds out she is “alive”, so maybe Vittoria was possessed or was able to unlock the memories of her reincarnation. Also, one of the spells Nonna and Emilia cast in KOTW says “A key to lock, a moon to guide” and Wrath said repeatedly that to break the curse the witches had to be from an specific bloodline and I think that is the descendants of the moon goddess - the counterpart to the sun goddess, the First Witch’s lineage or something related to The Feared. The cornicellos also had different colors: Emilia’s was silver and Vittoria’s was gold, so maybe there is an antithesis between a sun goddess and a moon goddess, or just the usual sun x moon.

Last thing, Emilia and Wrath are definitely made to each other: there’s a lot of evidence of her feeling him being right for her.

Maybe he always meets her over and over while they keep forgetting things (In other hand, he didn’t forget her, and the curse said something about forgetting everything but his hate, so maybe he forgets about their feelings but not about her? idk)

Also Wrath didn’t want Emilia in Hell, but why? (He didn’t tell her the reason because of the impediments of the curse)

Anyways, at this point I am just bringing more question than answers; there is not a lot of evidence, but everything is for sure some kind of foreshadowing.

If you have some theories, I would love to discuss together! Bye

#kotc spoilers #emilia x wrath #princewitch #kingdom of the cursed

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istumpysk · 3 years ago

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Catelyn VI (Chapter 49)

They heard the Green Fork before they saw it, an endless susurrus, like the growl of some great beast.

Beasts on the Trident!

+.+.+

The river was a boiling torrent, half again as wide as it had been last year, when Robb had divided his army here and vowed to take a Frey to bride as the price of his crossing.

Anytime something Frey-related is boiling, I'm going to highlight it.

+.+.+

Across the turbulent waters, Catelyn could see several thousand men encamped around the eastern castle, their banners hanging like so many drowned cats from the lances outside their tents.

+.+.+

The rain made it impossible to distinguish colors and devices. Most were grey, it seemed to her, though beneath such skies the whole world seemed grey.

That's not ominous or anything.

The nervous whinny of horses and the clank of steel guided them back to Renly's camp. The long ranks of man and horse were armored in darkness, as black as if the Smith had hammered night itself into steel. There were banners to her right, banners to her left, and rank on rank of banners before her, but in the predawn gloom, neither colors nor sigils could be discerned. A grey army, Catelyn thought. Grey men on grey horses beneath grey banners. - Catelyn IV, ACOK

+.+.+

"Robb, listen to me. Once you have eaten of his bread and salt, you have the guest right, and the laws of hospitality protect you beneath his roof."

Robb looked more amused than afraid.

+.+.+

When the Freyswere a half-dozen yards away Catelyn heard him growl, a deep rumble that seemed almost one with rush of the river. Robb looked startled. "Grey Wind, to me. To me!"

Instead the direwolf leapt forward, snarling.

[...]

There was more trouble at the gatehouse. Grey Wind balked in the middle of the drawbridge, shook the rain off, and howled at the portcullis. Robb whistled impatiently. "Grey Wind. What is it? Grey Wind, with me." But the direwolf only bared his teeth. He does not like this place, Catelyn thought.

Does someone want to pay attention to this god damn wolf?

+.+.+

Gout and brittle bones had taken their toll of old Walder Frey. They found him propped up in his high seat with a cushion beneath him and an ermine robe across his lap. His chair was black oak, its back carved into the semblance of two stout towers joined by an arched bridge, so massive that its embrace turned the old man into a grotesque child.

A child playing at lord of the crossing.

+.+.+

There was something of the vulture about Lord Walder, and rather more of the weasel.

The Freys all looked like weasels - Catelyn IX, AGOT

"What did you die of?" one head asked. "Hot weasel soup," replied the second. - Arya IX, ACOK

Bronn grinned. "There's a pot shop I know in Flea Bottom makes a savory bowl of brown. All kinds of meat in it, I hear."

"Make certain I never eat there." Tyrion spurred to a trot. - Tyrion IV, ASOS

+.+.+

The eighth Lady Frey stood beside Lord Walder's high seat. At his feet sat a somewhat younger version of himself, a stooped thin man of fifty whose costly garb of blue wool and grey satin was strangely accented by a crown and collar ornamented with tiny brass bells. The likeness between him and his lord was striking, save for their eyes; Lord Frey's small, dim, and suspicious, the other's large, amiable, and vacant. Catelyn recalled that one of Lord Walder's brood had fathered a halfwit long years ago. During past visits, the Lord of the Crossing had always taken care to hide this one away. Did he always wear a fool's crown, or is that meant as mockery of Robb? It was a question she dare not ask. [...] "Sire," Lord Walder said, "forgive my Aegon the noise. He has less wits than a crannogman, and he's never met a king before. One of Stevron's boys. We call him Jinglebell."

Wait, this is funny.

A fool in a crown, ornamented with bells, with a Targaryen name. A younger version of the father. Bwah!

(And Catelyn slices him up!)

+.+.+

"Bronze and iron are stronger than gold and silver," Robb answered. "The old Kings of Winter wore such a sword-crown."

"Small good it did them when the dragons came. Heh."

Heh, true.

+.+.+

"And where's your bride, Your Grace? The fair Queen Jeyne. A Westerling of the Crag, I'm told, heh."

"I left her at Riverrun, my lord. She was too weary for more travel, as we told Ser Ryman."

"That makes me grievous sad. I wanted to behold her with mine own weak eyes. We all did, heh. Isn't that so, my lady?"

Yeah, he wanted to kill her. Jeyne was lucky, but House Westerling's heir, Raynald Westerling, didn't know the plan and accompanied Robb to the Twins.

The Westerlings played stupid games, and lost the first-born son.

And I don't think the author is done with Sybell Spicer.

+.+.+

Lord Walder named the names.

[...]

That's a Cersei, but we call her Little Bee

Queen bee!

+.+.+

Go away, I wanted only Freys up here. The King in the North has no interest in base stock."

Jon Stark says otherwise.

+.+.+

"Good," the Lord of the Crossing said. "That was very good, Your Grace. 'No words can set it right,' heh. Well said, well said.

+.+.+

Roslin was small for her years, her skin as white as if she had just risen from a milk bath. Her face was comely, with a small chin, delicate nose, and big brown eyes. Thick chestnut hair fell in loose waves to a waist so tiny that Edmure would be able to put his hands around it. Beneath the lacy bodice of her pale blue gown, her breasts looked small but shapely.

[...]

Roslin had a small gap between two of her front teeth that made her shy with her smiles, but the flaw was almost endearing. Pretty enough, Catelyn thought, but so small, and she comes of Rosby stock. The Rosbys had never been robust. She much preferred the frames of some of the older girls in the hall; daughters or granddaughters, she could not be sure. They had a Crakehall look about them, and Lord Walder's third wife had been of that House. Wide hips to bear children, big breasts to nurse them, strong arms to carry them. The Crakehalls have always been a big-boned family, and strong.

There's no getting around this, the story is what it is. When the author describes a young girl's body type, he means to convey whether or not they'd be perceived as fertile.

I think we're all on the same page here, so let's move on.

+.+.+

"My lady is beautiful." Edmure took her hand and drew her to her feet. "But why are you crying?"

"For joy," Roslin said. "I weep for joy, my lord."

"Enough," Lord Walder broke in. "You may weep and whisper after you're wed, heh. Benfrey, see your sister back to her chambers, she has a wedding to prepare for. And a bedding, heh, the sweetest part. For all, for all." His mouth moved in and out. "We'll have music, such sweet music, and wine, heh, the red will run, and we'll put some wrongs aright.

+.+.+

"I need to see my men across the river, my lord," Robb said.

"They shan't get lost," Lord Walder complained. "They're crossed before, haven't they? When you came down from the north. You wanted crossing and I gave it to you, and you never said mayhaps, heh. But suit yourself. Lead each man across by the hand if you like, it's naught to me."

"My lord!" Catelyn had almost forgotten. "Some food would be most welcome. We have ridden many leagues in the rain."

Walder Frey's mouth moved in and out. "Food, heh. A loaf of bread, a bite of cheese, mayhaps a sausage."

+.+.+

Catelyn tasted the wine and nibbled at some bread, and felt much the better for it. Now we should be safe, she thought.

+.+.+

He looked perplexed. "Why would the old weasel refuse to let me choose unless he meant to foist off someone hideous?"

"Your fondness for a pretty face is well known," Catelyn reminded him. "Perhaps Lord Walder actually wants you to be happy with your bride." Or more like, he did not want you balking over a boil and upsetting all his plans.

Is that the reason? Because I also don't understand why he picked Roslin.

+.+.+

When she told him [Maester Brenett] of Edmure's concerns about Lady Roslin's fertility, he chuckled. "Your lord brother need have no fear, Lady Catelyn. She's small, I'll grant you, and narrow in the hips, but her mother was the same, and Lady Bethany gave Lord Walder a child every year."

"How many lived past infancy?" she asked bluntly.

"Five." He ticked them off on fingers plump as sausages.

We're now using the mother to tell us how fertile the daughter is.

+.+.+

"Five." He ticked them off on fingers plump as sausages. "Ser Perwyn. Ser Benfrey. Maester Willamen, who took his vows last year and now serves Lord Hunter in the Vale. Olyvar, who squired for your son. And Lady Roslin, the youngest. Four boys to one girl. Lord Edmure will have more sons than he knows what to do with."

Oh, never mind, I thought I knew what the author was doing, but it doesn't work. Catelyn may have five children, but she doesn't have four sons.

She has three sons, and two traditionally feminine girls.

(The third son became a maester. I'll be holding on to that.)

+.+.+

"I am sure that will please him." So the girl was like to be fertile as well as fair of face. That should put Edmure's mind at ease.

What does he care? He's a Tully, he could impregnate a mannequin.

+.+.+

Bolton's pale eyes met her own. "The ironmen burned both castle and winter town. Some of your people were taken back to the Dreadfort by my son, Ramsay."

The past two chapters he's the son, not the bastard. Coincidence, or clever tricks by the author?

"Your brothers were avenged," Grenn said. "Bolton's son killed all the ironmen, and it's said he's flaying Theon Greyjoy inch by inch for what he did." - Jon VI, ASOS

Regardless, you know what it made me realize? Jon and Ramsay are legitimized at almost the exact same point in the story.

"I am to wed Lord Bolton's son, Ramsay. He used to be a Snow, but His Grace has made him a Bolton. They say he's very brave. I am so happy." - Jaime IX, ASOS

+.+.+

Roose Bolton removed a ragged strip of leather from the pouch at his belt. "My son sent this with his letter."

Ser Wendel turned his fat face away. Robin Flint and Smalljon Umber exchanged a look, and the Greatjon snorted like a bull. "Is that . . . skin?" said Robb.

"The skin from the little finger of Theon Greyjoy's left hand. My son is cruel, I confess it. And yet . . . what is a little skin, against the lives of two young princes? You were their mother, my lady. May I offer you this . . . small token of revenge?"

Part of Catelyn wanted to clutch the grisly trophy to her heart, but she made herself resist. "Put it away. Please."

Oof, Catelyn... no, hun.

+.+.+

Catelyn turned back to Roose Bolton. "Ser Wendel said something of Lannisters on the Trident?"

[...]

Two-thirds of my strength was on the north side when the Lannisters attacked those still waiting to cross. Norrey, Locke, and Burley men chiefly, with Ser Wylis Manderly and his White Harbor knights as rear guard. I was on the wrong side of the Trident, powerless to help them. Ser Wylis rallied our men as best he could, but Gregor Clegane attacked with heavy horse and drove them into the river. As many drowned as were cut down. More fled, and the rest were taken captive."

[...]

"I left six hundred men at the ford. Spearmen from the rills, the mountains, and the White Knife, a hundred Hornwood longbows, some freeriders and hedge knights, and a strong force of Stout and Cerwyn men to stiffen them

[...]

"The last thing we need is the Mountain at our backs when we start up the causeway," said Robb. "You did well, my lord."

"Your Grace is too kind. I suffered grievous losses on the Green Fork, and Glover and Tallhart worse at Duskendale."

"Duskendale." Robb made the word a curse. "Robett Glover will answer for that when I see him, I promise you."

"A folly," Lord Bolton agreed

[...]

"How many men have you brought my son?" she asked Roose Bolton pointedly.

His queer colorless eyes studied her face a moment before he answered. "Some five hundred horse and three thousand foot, my lady. Dreadfort men, in chief, and some from Karhold. With the loyalty of the Karstarks so doubtful now, I thought it best to keep them close. I regret there are not more."

Explain to me why the fandom jerks off to Tywin Lannister, when Roose Bolton exists.

Meh, whatever, they'll both be killed by their sons. Probably.

+.+.+

"It should be enough," said Robb. "You will have command of my rear guard, Lord Bolton. I mean to start for the Neck as soon as my uncle has been wedded and bedded. We're going home."

Are you sure you want Roose Bolton watching your back?

Final thoughts:

If I skip ahead, are we really losing anything?

Fine.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #asos #catelyn vi

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Text

Two of A Kind

I’ve been focusing on asks a lot lately because of everyone’s awesome ideas, but I saw a Cut video that was similar to this and just couldn’t resist. Hope you enjoy! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentions of sex and endless simping!

“Are you ready?” Marlene asks behind the camera. Kasey sits alone on a stool in the middle of the room, drumming his fingers on his knees.

“Yep. What am I doing again?”

The video cuts, revealing the same room, this time with James Potter on the stool. “You’re going to be answering a few questions,” Marlene explains. “And then we’re also going to be interviewing your wife and comparing your answers.”

“Oh, God,” James laughs. “Okay, hit me with your best shot.”

A title card appears on the screen. First Question: What was your first date?

Remus thinks for a moment. “Like, our first official date, or something that was definitely a date but we were both too dumb to notice?”

“Kasey took me to an ice rink,” Natalie says. She is inexplicably sitting on a folding chair rather than the stool. “We spent about three hours there, drinking cocoa and talking. It was a ton of fun!”

“Ice skating.” Kasey grins. “She told me she could skate, but she had never stepped on the ice in her life.”

“It was at Sid’s.” Sirius smiles to himself. “We had been together for about three months at that point.”

“Remus asked us to define ‘first date’,” Marlene says, sounding amused.

“Is there a different definition that I’m not aware of? We hung out at Sid’s a bunch before we actually got together, but those didn’t qualify as dates.” He pauses. “Looking back, they kind of were dates. We just didn’t know it.”

The video transitions to Lily and James, whose interviews are lined up side-by-side. “Lily took me to get ice cream after we went for a walk in the park,” James answers with a bright smile.

Lily laughs. “Our first date was a disaster. It was twenty-five degrees outside and we got ice cream. I think our brain freezes lasted about three straight minutes, but I had a great time.”

Second Question: When and where was your first kiss?

“Our first kiss happened on our first date,” Natalie says. “Kase caught me when I fell over and I just leaned right in.”

Kasey’s dopey smile makes his eyes crinkle. “At the ice rink. It felt like something out of a movie.”

Lily frowns in thought. “Oh, god, maybe our sixth date? He dropped me off at my apartment and kissed me goodnight.”

“I pulled a move straight from a John Hughes movie.” James grins and stretches his arms out. “Walked her to the door and everything. It was perfect.”

“Pascal Dumais’ basement,” Sirius says with a light laugh. “Which is a surprisingly romantic place.”

“It happened right after Sirius’ birthday party, which I was tricked into attending.” Remus gives the camera a mock-serious look. “Always be suspicious of Pascal Dumais. Always.”

Third Question: Who said ‘I love you’ first, and what was your reaction?

Sirius bites his lip. “I said it first, but only by two seconds. It was a long time coming, to be honest.”

“Sirius said it first.” Remus smiles at the memory. “We were both kind of wrecks at the time, but it was…amazing. I think I just cried harder and kissed him.”

Lily rolls her eyes fondly. “James said it first. We were both super drunk and he just blurted it out in the middle of the club.”

“She ran away!” James practically shouts as the video cuts to him. “I told her I loved her, she gave me this shocked look, and then disappeared! I get a text an hour later saying she caught a cab and went home, and she signs it with ‘love, Lily’. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

Natalie coughs slightly. “Um, I don’t remember who said it first.”

Kasey grins at the camera. “Natalie said she didn’t remember,” Marlene calls.

“Oh, she remembers.”

Fourth Question: How’s your sex life? Anything you can do differently?

Sirius, who was taking a sip of water, chokes. “Excuse me?”

Remus is dead silent for a second, blinking at the camera in shock. “It’s, uh, good.”

“If we gave you some alcohol, would your answer change?” Marlene asks.

“Probably. Does anyone else feel like they’re suddenly in danger?”

“What sex life?” James snorts. “We have a baby. There is no time or energy for anything anymore.”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “You think I want him anywhere near me after I just shoved a baby out of my crotch?”

“It’s damn good.” Natalie winks, uncapping her own waterbottle. “Pro tip for anyone looking for a hockey boyfriend: go for the goalies. They’re flexible.”

Kasey is laughing into his hands when his interview appears. “She said that?” he manages. “Oh, Christ.”

Fifth Question: Do you dirty talk?

“Yes.” Kasey and Natalie say at the same time. James winks, and Lily shrugs with a sly smile.

Remus gives the camera crew a disbelieving look. “Are all the questions like this? Were we lulled into a false sense of security?”

“Answer the question, Loops!”

Remus sighs deeply. “On occasion, yes. I’m going to regret saying that.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Sirius says, narrowing his eyes as he sets his water down.

Sixth Question: How well do you sleep?

“Not bad,” Remus says. “Better than I used to, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t sleep,” Lily scoffs. James just looks at the camera and wordlessly gestures to the shadows under his eyes.

“Pretty well,” Natalie muses, slinging one arm around the back of her folding chair.

Sirius nods. “I’d say I sleep well most nights. It’s more comfortable with another person, which was surprising.”

Seventh Question: Why do you feel obligated to share a bed?

“Obligated?” Sirius and Remus say with matching tones of incredulity.

Lily’s smile becomes softer. “I really like sharing a bed. It makes me feel safe.”

“Oh, I love sleeping next to Lily.” James’ gaze turns dreamy. “She smells nice, she’s so warm, and sharing a bed makes childcare much easier when the other person is within reach.”

“You can’t tell her I said this, okay?” Kasey looks around at the camera crew before answering, and his cheeks turn light pink. “Nat’s side of the bed faces east, so if I get up for practice and the sun is rising, she glows a little bit. I dunno, I like it.”

“Kasey is really warm and cuddly.” Natalie says after a moment of thought. “He’s like my own personal heater and I’m never cold if he’s there. Don’t tell him I said that.”

Remus bites his lip before speaking. “I’m not much of a cuddler, but I sleep better next to Sirius than I ever have before. It’s incredible.”

Sirius cocks his head to the side with a smile. “Hmm. Having someone there to hold, especially someone I care about so much, is the best feeling. If I ever wake up in the middle of the night, he’s just…always there.” He half-shrugs. “It’s sappy, but it’s true.”

Eighth Question: Rate your attractiveness on a scale of 1-10

“Eleven,” Lily and Natalie say in unison, as if it’s obvious.

“I’m going with a solid six,” Remus decides after a moment’s deliberation.

“Eight, maybe?” Kasey answers.

Sirius makes a face. “Six? Seven?”

James is mid-laugh when the video cuts to him. “Um, seven. Lily and I have talked about this before and I got in trouble for saying ten, that’s why I’m laughing. Sorry.”

Ninth Question: Rate your partner’s attractiveness on a scale of 1-10

Not a single one hesitates. “Ten.”

“Remus said he was a solid six,” Marlene says as the camera focuses on Sirius.

His eyebrows shoot up. “What? Where is he? Re!”

“What?” a distant voice shouts back.

“You’re a ten!”

“On what scale?”

“Nat said eleven, didn’t she?” Kasey asks with a grin as the clip changes. “I love it when she does that.”

Final Question: What animal is your partner and why? Give three reasons.

Lily gives Marlene a hard look. “Marley, I love you, but what I say right now needs to stay confidential from my husband.”

Sirius laughs quietly. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for this.”

“Lily is a lioness,” James says immediately. “She’s strong, fierce, and unbelievably brave.”

Natalie tilts her head. “Good question. I’m going to go with a bear, since he’s got a big, tough reputation but he’s all soft inside. He’s a pretty solid guy, too, and he likes cold weather.”

“Nat is one of those really colorful birds,” Kasey says. “The ones with big personalities and the pretty feathers.”

“James is a lion.” Lily thinks for a moment longer. “It’s not just that he plays for the Lions, but he really is one of the bravest people I know. He’s protective of his family and cares a lot about keeping everyone together.”

Remus grins at the camera. “Sirius is a dog, and I will happily tell you why. Number one: he loves going for walks. Number two: he is endlessly loyal to the people he cares for. Number three: peanut butter.”

“So, Re is either a cat or a dog, and I really can’t choose.” Sirius’ eyebrows draw together in thought.

“You can choose both if you have reasons,” Marlene calls behind the camera.

“Really? Alright, he’s a dog because he’s friendly, loyal, and brings people trinkets as gifts. Um, I don’t have a legitimate reason for the cat one, but do any of you know that one vine with the cat that’s being dragged around on a leash?”

The camera crew bursts out laughing, and a small picture of the cat appears in the upper left of the screen.

“Anyone who has tried to pick Remus up knows that he looks exactly like that. Goes completely limp, it’s the funniest fucking thing.”

The video cuts to Remus, who raises his eyebrows. “He said what?”

The title card appears and Marlene’s voiceover begins. “Thanks for watching, Lions! Special thanks to Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James and Lily Potter, Natalie Darcy, and Kasey Winter for being with us today. Like and subscribe for more!”

#sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans #kasey winter #natalie darcy #marlene mckinnon #social media #sweater weather #coops #jily #kat #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic

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sierraraeck · 4 years ago

Text

A Cruel Joke

Emily x Bi!Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You find solace in the arms of a hurting FBI agent after she comes to investigate the death of your best friend.

Category: Angst, implied smut.

Warnings: 15 year age gap between adults (37/22)

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: If you don’t like the name Alexa, I’m sorry, just try to imagine that it’s a different name.

A lesbian and a bisexual walk up to a crime scene. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but this situation was very real, and very unfunny.

You’d had a bad feeling. That should have been enough to get you to stay with her, you’re best friend, but you didn’t. You had been selfish.

And now she was dead.

Alexa was dead.

And it was your fault.

Had you just pulled yourself together and been there for her as a friend, stopped worrying about how you felt, she wouldn’t have walked back to your campus apartment from that party alone, and she wouldn’t have been vulnerable to the monster that took her and he wouldn’t have…

But he did, and now you were numbly walking down the sidewalk that led behind the sorority house you’d been partying at and to the local park, not even registering anything that was happening around you.

You’d heard the news before you could even press send on a text making sure she was okay. You’d heard the news, but you had to confirm for yourself. She couldn’t be dead, she just couldn’t be. You saw her only last night, not even six hours ago.

Despite officers and other important people yelling at you to get back, you just kept walking towards the crime scene, taped off with that awful yellow color.

Just as you were about to duck under the tape, approach the group of suits standing with their backs to you in a half circle, you felt a hand on your shoulder, a presence appearing in front of you.

“Miss, I’m sorry but you can’t be here.” It was a delicate voice, belonging to a woman.

“I have to know if it’s her. I just saw her, it can’t be her, I have to know if it’s her,” you mumbled in a panic, still trying to get a glimpse of what was sprawled on the ground in front of the officers. You realized they were staring at you now, but you couldn’t look away. You had to know.

“Miss, please, you shouldn’t be here,” the woman repeated. Her hand was still on your shoulder, and you finally looked her in the eyes, took in her face. Her features were gentle yet strong, and there was something striking about the contrast between her dark hair, fair skin, and pink lips.

You were trembling, something she could feel against her fingertips, and the water brimming in your eyes was enough to let her know how much you cared, probably more than anyone around.

She quickly glanced back at the other men behind her, and the tallest one nodded. With her hand still on your shoulder, she escorted you away from the scene, and away from prying eyes to a secluded park bench.

“Would you like to take a seat?” she asked.

All you could do was nod. Nothing felt real. Her voice sounded like it was reaching your ears by an old, fuzzy radio set up 10 feet away from you. This can’t be happening.

You plopped down on the bench with much less grace than the woman before you, who introduced herself as Agent Prentiss. “But you can call me Emily,” she’d said. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you whispered. Your arms were wrapped around yourself as you asked, “Is it her? Is it Alexa?”

Emily dodged your question with another question. “Who’s Alexa?” You later realized why she didn’t ask you how you knew her. She didn’t ask because she’d have to ask ‘how did you know her’ and not ‘how do you know her,’ something that surely would have set you off.

“She… she’s my b-best friend,” you mumbled around the lump in your throat.

“You mentioned that you just saw her. When was that?”

“Last night. We decided to crash the party with some of our friends who are actually in the sorority,” you explained meekly. “Please, Emily. Would you please tell me if it’s her? I have to know.”

Emily sighed and gave you a sad look, which was really all you needed, but hearing the words made it final. “Yes. We found identification on her with the name Alexa Stephens. I’m so sorry.”

Your whole heart shattered. You cared about her more than any of her other friends, and you sometimes wondered if you cared about her more than her family. She had a rough childhood and couldn’t stand to be in the same state as them anymore, which is why she transferred halfway through her freshman year. You immediately connected with her and you’d been friends ever since.

Your mind was racing, thinking of all the questions you needed answered, all the things you could have done differently to keep her alive. If you would have just been there…

“It’s not your fault,” the angelic voice broke through the static in your head, as if she could hear your thoughts.

“It is,” you whimpered, “If I had just pulled myself together, we would have walked home together, and she wouldn’t have been alone. Oh god, she died alone.”

“You did nothing wrong. You didn’t know, you couldn’t have. I’m sure you did what you thought was best in the moment.” It didn’t make you feel a whole lot better, but you grasped onto her words in an attempt to calm yourself down. You knew there was still more information she probably needed from you. You took some deep breaths, closing your eyes. A warmth spread its way through your palms, and you realized that the agent had put her hands in yours, giving them a reassuring squeeze. You held onto them like an anchor point. “Can I ask you a few more questions, or would you like to take a break?”

In through your nose, out through your mouth. You opened your eyes and nodded. “I want to help in whatever way I can.”

Emily continued to ask you questions about your night and if you remembered anyone suspicious. She asked if there was anyone who was staring at her, to which you told her that would be half the people at the party. Alexa usually had a steady stream of boys coming and going, some she dated and some she didn’t.

You never really understood that. You barely liked one person, let alone multiple back to back or at the same time. But Alexa just had this appeal to her, and while some would disagree with you, you thought she had a big heart. A big, blind heart.

“Thank you so much for your time. Give me a call if you remember anything else, anything at all,” Emily said, handing you her business card, “and I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks. I will,” you answered dryly.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

You woke up feeling out of sorts. You’d dreamt of her last night. Well, you’d dreamt of them. You saw Alexa laughing, and then you saw her sprawled on the ground, an image your mind had created all by itself, and then you saw Emily. Felt her soothing hand on your shoulder, her warm palms encasing yours.

Then you woke up. The whole thing made you feel weird and sad and tired.

You picked up the business card Emily had given you, twirling it in your hand. You hadn’t remembered anything new, but you felt safe around her. Noticed, important, like you mattered. You realized just how much you were lacking that from Alexa, from your other friends.

Simply calling her wouldn’t do, though. You wanted to see the woman that for once in your life made you feel like you didn’t have to pretend you were okay. She knew you had lost someone close to you, and didn’t expect you to keep it together.

What were you saying? You put the card down, remembering that you’d only spoken to her for all of 30 minutes and she was just doing her job. Nothing more, nothing less. You also had the wherewithal to know that you were probably only grasping at any minute display of affection since you’d just lost the one person you so desperately wanted it from but could never get it. It made you feel pathetic and angry.

God you were also just so tired.

Classes were not going to happen, so you just laid back down, hoping to be swept into another dream.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

A knock at the door woke you up. You weren’t sure what time it was, but you didn’t really care as you walked to the door.

Without looking through the peephole, you eked the door open. Emily was standing there along with another agent you’d seen at the crime scene.

“Hello. Y/N, right?” the blond asked. You nodded. “My name is Jennifer Jareau, and I believe you’ve met Emily.”

Emily smiled at you and you forced a small smile back. “What can I do for you?”

You invited them in and they asked you a few more questions. However, you were only half paying attention to what they were saying, and more paying attention to the way the two women were interacting. You’d sensed a tension the minute they walked in, but it seemed to be one sided. You figured it out by about the eighth time Emily glanced over at Jennifer. You recognized the look in her eyes: a mixture of love and hurt. You’d seen it too many times in the mirror not to pick up on it. But what really caught your eye was how many times Emily’s gaze traveled down to Jennifer’s hands. Specifically her left one with a shiny diamond on it. One look at Emily’s hand, and well, it wasn’t too difficult to put the rest together.

“Thank you again for your time,” Jennifer said, shaking your hand. Emily was slower to move, making eye contact with the other agent, some message you were not privy to passing between them. Jennifer gave you a tight lipped smile and left, but Emily stayed.

“I wanted to give you this,” Emily explained, holding out her hand. There was a small necklace in it, one you recognized immediately. “She was still wearing it and I thought you might want it back.”

You took it out of her hand, admiring the small heart pendant that dangled at the end. You’d bought it for Alexa for her 21st birthday. Her last birthday. “Thank you so much,” you said as you started to tear up. Just when you thought you’d cried yourself dry.

“Of course.” You thought Emily was going to leave after that, but she lingered a moment longer. You looked up at her, and she bit her lip, probably trying to decide if she should ask her next question or not. “She wasn’t your best friend, was she?”

You gave a weak smile, dropping eye contact. “That depends. Are you asking her or me?”

“I’m asking you.”

“No, she wasn’t. She meant more to me than that. But I never meant more to her. I sometimes wondered if I even meant that much to her,” your voice wavered.

“I’m sure you did,” Emily tried to reassure, but you weren’t buying it.

“Hope so,” you muttered. Looking back up at Emily, you held her eyes this time. “What about you and Jennifer?”

Her response was immediate. “What?” She sounded shocked, but you could tell she was trying to play it off.

You offered a single laugh. “I may not be a genius FBI analyst or profiler or whatever, but I know a hurting gay when I see one.”

Her mouth was still open, like she was going to try to come up with an excuse, but instead she just sighed. “That obvious?”

“Clearly not to Jennifer.” You shrugged. “Looks like I’m not the only one to lose someone recently.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Emily shook her head.

“You don’t need to downplay your pain,” you told her. “I know how bad that hurts. Why do you think I left that party early?”

A look of understanding flashed through her eyes. “A constant stream of guys…” Emily quoted your from earlier.

“Yeah,” you shrugged again. “Sometimes it’s just too hard to watch. Sometimes it’s just too hard to listen. When she’d come back to me crying over a break up when I was sitting right there… it’s painful. And that night I just couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t watch her waste her time on another guy who was going to hurt her. So I left. Look where that got me,” you mumbled the last part.

Emily gave a sad, bitter laugh. “She asked me to be her maid of honor.”

You sighed with her. “I’m sorry.” You had barely noticed the tear that escaped her eye before she forcefully brushed it away.

Something changed in her demeanor when she realized a tear had escaped, speaking faster as she headed towards the door. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you this. You already have a lot on your plate, and I don’t need to be unloading my personal issues on you. Again, I’m sorry, I will make sure-”

“Emily,” you cut her off, grabbing her arm and turning her towards you as she was about to reach for the doorknob. You weren’t sure what you’d been planning on doing once you stopped her, and the first thing you thought to do was hug her. You pulled her in close and wrapped your arms around her. She seemed shocked, but put her arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world for the two of you to be doing.

You don’t know how long you stood there, but you would’ve stayed there forever if you could. The warmth and safety of her arms was something you’d never really experienced before.

When she pulled back from your embrace, you realized you’d both been silently crying. Her fingers traveled over your jaw, and her thumbs brushed away your tears. Your faces were only inches apart, but something in the back of your head told you that it wasn’t the right time.

Instead, you leaned forward and kissed away her tears, pressing your lips to her cheekbones. You felt her eyelashes on your face, a feeling you tried to commit to memory. A feeling you never got to experience with Alexa. One you never would.

“Y/N,” she whispered. You heard everything in the way she said your name, a warning that no matter how badly the two of you wanted this right now, it wasn’t a good decision.

“I know,” you whispered back, resting your forehead on hers, “Just please. Please let me live in my head for a little while longer.”

You stood there for a few more moments, her hands cupping your face and your hands on her back before she completely pulled away. “I will make sure we do everything we can to find the man who did this.”

“I know,” you repeated. “Thank you, Emily.”

She offered another small smile, but this time it felt a bit more sincere. With that, she left to continue fighting the monster that had ripped the earth out from under you.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Three more days and another victim later, the case was closed. Emily and her team had caught the bastard, putting him away for good.

You felt like you owed it to her, to the whole team, to go down to the local station they were set up in and thank them.

The moment you walked in, Emily spotted you. She put down whatever pictures and maps were in her hand, and rushed over to you. Without exchanging a word you embraced, similarly to how you’d done a few days ago, although much shorter this time as you were in public.

“We got him.” Her voice was assured and her lips curved in just the smallest way as she studied your face.

“I don’t know if I could ever thank you enough,” you told her. You looked over her shoulder to the conference room she’d just abandoned, catching the majority of the other members looking your way. “Is that your team?”

Emily turned around to follow your gaze, most of the others looking away as she did so. “Um, yes. That is them.” You couldn’t exactly figure out what subtle meaning was in her tone of voice, but ultimately chose to ignore it.

“Can I… um, well, can I talk to them? I want to thank them,” you quickly explained. Emily turned around to give you a shy smile.

“Sure,” she agreed, heading towards the conference room. You figured that was your cue to follow her, so you did, trialing close behind her.

She pushed open the doors and introduced you. Of course, they all knew who you were as you’d been a mess when you showed up on their crime scene, and had apparently been a ‘big help’, which the tallest man with a stern face, told you.

“Oh, I didn’t really do anything,” you waved him off. “You did all the hard work, which I wanted to thank you all for. It means a lot that you were here and able to close this case. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” a tall, strong-built man replied. “Happy that we could help.”

“But a lot of the credit should go to Emily,” a thin man with curly hair stated, a small smirk on his face, “She really did most of the work.”

Emily opened her mouth to protest as she gave both men a dangerous side eye, to which all they did was fail to suppress a smile. You stopped her before she could refute, “Well, thank you.” The message was broad, directed towards everyone, but your eyes lingered on Emily.

She gave you a single nod, and you quickly glanced around the room at the agents that helped get justice for Alexa before heading out the door. You looked back at Emily before you left, her eyes following you out while the two tall men behind her were passing knowing looks. You caught a glimpse of the blonde agent staring at the whole interaction, then biting her lip and looking away. You looked back towards Emily and the two male agents, the bald one shaking his head in what you could only guess was amusement, something you felt a little flattered about. Again, you weren’t a profiler, but you could read the classic signs of friends teasing friends over something like a crush. You hoped your brain wasn’t too foggy from the whirlwind that your life had become to mistake those signs for something they weren’t.

You were just getting into your car and pulling the driver’s side door shut when the passenger side swung open. Emily plopped down in the passenger seat of your car, quickly shutting the door. Surprised to see her, you just sat there like a fool looking at her.

She glanced over at you, biting her lip, a little bit of mischief in her eyes. “Are you going to drive or should I?”

In response, you finished shutting your door and started the car. “What took you so long?” you teased. “Was it Jennifer?”

“Let’s not talk about Jennifer,” Emily responded, a level of conviction in her voice you hadn’t heard yet.

“No, let’s not,” you agreed. Let’s not talk at all. You leaned across the console, bringing her face to yours with a hand on her cheek. She kissed you back, deeply. Oh what it was like to kiss someone you had feelings for, and not only kiss them, but have them kiss you back. You hadn’t realized just how starved you’d been of this feeling.

You pulled back first, needing to get some air back in your lungs. You plopped back down in your chair a little dazed.

Emily wetted her lips. “I know you wanted to do that before. Why’d you wait?”

“I waited to help you. To help get justice for Alexa,” you briefly explained, pulling out of the parking lot. “I know how important it is to have a clear head.”

“And now?”

“The investigation is over, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Emily confirmed.

“Then I am done waiting. That was the biggest mistake I ever made with her. I waited to tell her until she… until it was too late. I’m never going to do that again. Never.” It was a promise you intended on keeping.

“I did the same thing,” Emily shared, her voice getting quieter.

“I know. So let’s both just agree to be honest and forward with what we want,” you suggested.

“And what is it that you want?”

“You,” you confessed.

The drive from the precinct to your apartment was short, and you were there within the next couple minutes or so.

Taking Emily’s hand, you led her up the stairs and through the door of your apartment. The moment you shut and locked it, Emily was there, pulling you close and kissing you with much more passion than she had before. You pushed off her blazer and started frantically working on the buttons of her dress shirt. You had to part for a moment, just long enough for her to pull your shirt over your head. You were going in to kiss her again, when she stopped you.

“Woah, woah,” she whispered. “Slow down. I want to savor every last moment of this.”

Her eyes tore down your figure, fingers brushing over your collar bones, down around the swell of your breasts and over your stomach. When they reached the top of your jeans, she looked up at you. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to be pushing you to do something you’re not ready for yet. I don’t want you waking up regretting this because you still haven’t taken the time you need to grieve Alexa.”

“Let’s not talk about Alexa,” you copied what Emily had said about Jennifer earlier. “I want to be here with you. Will you let me be here with you?”

She slowly nodded, and the moment she did, you put your lips back on hers. They were soft, just a bit swollen, and she swiped her tongue across your bottom lip, asking for entry. You gave it to her without question, and did you best to resume the work on her dress shirt buttons. Your tongues tangoed as you finally got her shirt off her.

As you led her to your room, you were thankful you didn’t have to pass Alexa’s, and even though no one else lived in your apartment anymore, you shut the door out of habit.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

You woke up just before the early morning sun, drinking in the sight of the sleeping woman next to you. Your legs were tangled in the sheets, arms wrapped around each other.

Even though you’d had the entire night to admire her body, you couldn’t keep yourself from looking over her in awe. The way her face looked so at peace when she was sleeping and the way her dark hair messily fanned around her head made her look too perfect to be real. Everything that happened must’ve been a figment of your imagination, and the little solace you found in her felt like it was going to evaporate with your dreams.

And in a way, it was.

Once she woke up, she’d fly back across the country and go back to working her job like she’d never even met you. Maybe she hooked up with girls all over the country. She didn’t really strike you as that type, but you didn’t really know her.

The universe was playing a cruel joke on you. When you had the chance to spend years with the girl you were in love with, you didn’t have the guts to tell her how you felt, and now that you did, you only had a day or so with her. But in the end, both would leave. Both would be out of your life forever.

You’d been so caught up in these thoughts that you hadn’t noticed Emily peek her eyes open. The sun had just started shining through the blinds, and she squinted against the light. She was also able to see the wet streaks glinting against your skin.

That jolted her awake, sitting up on her elbow. “Hey,” she soothed, cupping your face, “What’s going on?”

You placed your hand on top of hers and wiped at your tears with the other. “You’re perfect,” you told her, voice barely above a whisper, “And you’re leaving. Everyone leaves.”

Instead of responding, Emily tucked you under her arm and held you while your wept. She whispered sweet nothings into your hair and cradled the back of your head. You held onto her like she was the only thing keeping you together, keeping the withering pieces you called yourself from crumbling completely.

But, as you’d said, at some point she’d have to go. She’d have to pick up her things and head back to her life. You were going to have to figure out how to manage on your own.

Once you’d calmed down enough, you apologized to her. She told you that she was there for you, and that you’d always have her number, which helped you feel a little better. Just as she was finishing putting on her clothes and heading toward the door, you said, “You know it’s not too late to tell Jennifer your feelings, right?” Emily gave you a sad look, one that told you it was too late, but you persisted. “She’s only engaged, and engagements can be broken. I saw the way she looked at you yesterday.”

“What do you mean? I thought you said she was oblivious?” Emily countered.

“True, but I was paying a lot more attention to you that day,” you informed her, which made her lips turn up. “But I’m talking about back at the precinct. As I was leaving and you were looking at me, and those two male agents were making eyes about the whole thing, I saw how she looked at you. She was jealous, and I think a little sad too. I’m just telling you that the worst thing that could happen if you tell her is she says no. The worst that could happen if you don’t tell her is you miss out on a life with her. Or before you know it, she’s getting hurt in the field and you end up right back here, just like me. Please, Emily. You have a chance to go for it, to tell her how you feel, something I was too stupid not to take advantage of when I could. Do it before it eats away at you any longer.” It was a plea by the time you finished.

Emily had never looked at you with pity before that moment, but there was a hint of the feeling in her eyes when you finished, like she thought you were desperate or naive. And, maybe you were, but you also thought that some of the pity might have been for herself.

You stood up out of bed, and approached her. She was standing frozen in the doorway, and the look of pity disappeared when you whispered, “It’s not too late.”

Emily pressed her lips to yours, in a slow, delicate way, one that felt like a goodbye. When she pulled back, her eyes were still closed and she barely spoke against your lips. “I hope you’re right.”

You looked deep into her eyes once she finally opened them, trying to remember the shape and the color, and how it felt to get lost in them. But then they were gone again, replaced by the hair on the back of her head as she walked away. She gave you one last small, sad smile before walking out the door of your apartment. That, you knew, would be it.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

~11 months later~

Voicemail from: Emily Prentiss

“Hey Y/N. It’s me, Emily. I know we haven’t talked since the last time I saw you, and I know this phone call is kind of out of the blue… but, uh, I just felt like I should call you and tell you this myself. You were right. It wasn’t too late, and I told her. I told Jennifer how I really felt, and she broke off the engagement to be with me. We’ve been together now for about ten months, and um… well, this time around we both have rings on our fingers. So I guess what I’m really trying to say is thank you. Had it not been for you, or what you said to me that last night, I would have had to be the maid of honor at her wedding and watched while she married someone else, and the guilt would have eaten me alive. So thank you. You’ve changed my life. I hope that things are going well for you because you deserve everything that’s right in the world. Really, you do. And you always have my number if you ever need anything. Okay, um, I guess that’s all. Goodbye Y/N.”

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@90spumkin

#criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss x reader #emily x reader #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss #prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #prentiss #cm angst

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twistedtummies2 · 3 years ago

Text

Adeuce, You Say!

Yeah, I couldn’t come up with a good title for this one, sorry. XD This is a birthday gift for a dear friend of mine, @belliesandburps. He mentioned he wanted to see Ace Trappola drinking a LOT of soda. I couldn’t think of a concept that featured JUST Ace, so I decided to throw Deuce Spade in for good measure. Hopefully he won’t mind this. ;) Happy Birthday, BNB! You’re one of the best friends a twisted whacko like myself could ever ask for. <3

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“I can’t believe you talked me into this…” “Aww, come on, don’t be a spoilsport!” You couldn’t help but blush a bit...and cursed yourself for doing so. The “fun” hadn’t even begun, and already you could feel your heartbeat with anticipation. “Don’t worry, Deuce,” you muttered. “The feeling is mutual, on my end…” Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade turned to look at you. The three of you were gathered in Ace’s room in Heartslabyul; you had cleared a table he kept in the room - which was designed to resemble a carefully-arranged house of cards - and now both he and Deuce sat at opposite ends of the short furnishing. On the floor directly in front of the table one of them had placed a recycling bin - litter was not allowed, per the Rules of the Queen of Hearts - and on the table itself were four large boxes. Two of the boxes, which sat nearest Deuce, contained twelve packs of Vanilla Cola. In contrast, the two boxes closest to Ace contained Cherry Cola. Ace smirked, tossing some of his carrot-colored hair out of his face, and winked his tattooed eye, the crimson heart shape around it flickering as his one visible cherry-toned iris twinkled with mischief-making glee. “Well, we all know why YOU agreed to this,” he teased. “C’mon, you can’t deny you’re a little...EXCITED, huh, Prefect?” “I hate you,” you droned, grumbling as you squirmed where you stood. “I hate you so much…” “Is this the reason you decided to have this contest?” frowned Deuce, his own turquoise eyes narrowing, the black spade tattoo over one of them crinkling slightly behind his dark blue bangs. “To make the Prefect a blushing mess? I think you could have waited till the next lunch hour for that.” “You are NOT helping,” you grumped, glaring at Deuce half-heartedly.

Neither of the Heartslabyul duo seemed to notice. Ace snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, that’s just a nice bonus,” he chuckled, and grinned roguishly. “Cater just told me this kinda thing is trending right now. I figure, with my talents, I’ve got a shot at getting some preeeetty good views. That’s why I asked the Prefect to film this.” He jabbed his thumb towards you; you fiddled with the cell phone in your hands, biting your lip and saying nothing. “And why choose ME to be your competitor in this?” Deuce droned. “Does humiliating me just make you feel better about yourself?” “It does. Yes. Absolutely. One hundred percent,” grinned Ace. Deuce glared. He looked to the sodas, then back at Ace...then huffed and turned away. “No,” he stated. “I’m not doing it.” “Awww, come on, you’re already here!” Ace whined. “This won’t take long!” “He does have a point,” you spoke up. “Speaking with as little obvious bias as possible…” “I already mistrust your judgment,” Deuce muttered, while Ace snickered. “...You agreed to this and came here, so you might as well see it through to the end.” “And I don’t expect you to go easy on me!” snapped Ace, lifting a finger rather dramatically. “I want a challenge!” “Then you should have asked somebody else!” Deuce exclaimed. “Why not try someone from Savanaclaw, or one of the Leech Twins?” “I said I wanted a challenge, not a suicide mission,” Ace said, bluntly. You couldn’t repress a snort of laughter. You apologized under your breath as both frowned at you before looking back to each other. “Forget it,” Deuce said firmly. “I’m not engaging in something as infantile as a soda-drinking-” “Soda-CHUGGING, Spade. Get with the times, Mr. Delinquent.” Deuce glared violently. Ace lifted his hands and mouthed a quick apology. Deuce calmed down...but only VERY slightly. “...Soda...Chugging...Contest,” Deuce corrected, grinding his teeth and turning faintly red in the face at Ace’s taunt. “I’m not doing it for you, and you can’t make me.” Ace narrowed his eyes, frowning, looking Deuce up and down for a moment...then grinned anew. “Okay,” he said, slyly. “Then don’t do it for me. There’s other reasons to try.” Deuce looked suspicious and skeptical at the same time. “Such as?” Ace responded by opening one of his cases of cherry cola and pulling a single can free. He waggled it in one hand indicatively, raising an eyebrow in Deuce’s direction. Before either yourself or Deuce could comment on the actions and ask what he was doing - he popped the can open. It hissed and crackled as the pressure was released...then, without a hint of hesitation, he tipped his head back and quickly slugged down the contents of the first can. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG… You felt those familiar stirrings start within you, as your eyes immediately zeroed in on Ace’s strong but slender throat. You watched his Adam’s Apple bounce like a rubber ball with each gulp of soda. Internally, you couldn’t help but put yourself in the drink’s place...cascading down his throat, rushing down his gullet towards the ever-hungry black hole that was his belly… You shivered at the same time he finished the can. He crushed it in one hand with relish and pitched it into the recycling bin. It clattered loudly, making Deuce jump slightly. He opened his mouth to question what all this was about, and perhaps to protest again… ...And looked up just in time to find Ace leaning over the table, mouth wide open...burping four words out. Right in his face. “YYYOOOUUU...AAAARRRRE...AAAAAA...CHIIIIIC-KEEEENNNN-UUUUURRRRRP!” Ace smirked smugly, eyes half lidded as he rested his chin in one hand and licked his lips, eyeing Deuce expectantly. Deuce blinked fast several times, his expression stunned, face speckled with spittle after the messy, wet blast...then glared. “Alright, Trappola,” he almost growled. “Now…” He opened a box. “...You’re…” He pulled out a can of his own. “...On.” SNAP-CRACKLE-POP. The first can of vanilla cola was opened, and Deuce began to chug it down with relish. Ace laughed, and quickly pulled out a second can of his own. “I knew it would work!” he sang out, and popped his own can open, and began to drink down some more cherry cola as fast as he could, eager to catch up with Deuce. You sighed; you were a captive audience to this display. Not that you minded too much, you had to admit...especially given your current position. You decided to sit down rather than stand, but there was no third chair for you to use...so you simply crossed your legs and sat on the floor. This inevitably meant looking up at the pair, and some mean, self-shaming fraction of your submissive little brain couldn’t help but mock you as you watched Deuce hurl his first can into the recycling bin carelessly before moving onto another...imagining your own self being treated with the same nonchalance. Just fuel for a greater being. “I hate my life,” you muttered to yourself. “What - HIC-URP! - what was that?” Ace chirruped. “Never mind. Keep going. First to finish all 24 cans wins.” Keep going the pair did. Gulping and slurping echoed out almost non-stop, interrupted only briefly by the crushing of cans and the sound of them falling into the bin. GLUG-CRUNCH! GULP-SCRUNCH! GOLLOP-GRUNCH! Ace frowned as he hurriedly downed his sodas; his goading of Deuce had seemingly backfired, for Spade had quickly taken a surprising lead. He was only a can ahead of Ace, but one can was all it would take. He kept glancing to Deuce to gauge his progress, eyes burning hotly like crimson flames as he gulped down soda pop after soda pop. Deuce, for his part, remained focused on the sodas themselves, chugging them down as rapidly as he could; you could actually hear the fizzing and sizzling of the carbonation as it raced down their gullets at record-breaking speed. Naturally, all that air being ingested meant pockets of gas were building up inside of both students’ guts. Ace had no problem letting those pockets burst. “BRRRRAAAAAAP! Oof...oh - UUUURRRRRRP! Ha Ha...that was a good one wasn’t it...mph...PRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEFFFFEEEEEECT?” You had to fight yourself NOT to squeak, as Ace laughed and slugged down more and more soda, burping and belching like a crass pig between every single can, clearly delighting in showing off. You wanted to tell him that this wasn’t going to get him the lead back...but you were a little too loopy from the sickly-sweet smell of soda-scented stomach gas filling the air to care much. Deuce, meanwhile, handled things differently. He didn’t burp at all. Honestly, that was actually getting you even more excited; by now, he had finished six cans and was working on a seventh. (Ace was just starting his sixth can, in contrast.) The effect of so much bubbling cola pooling in his belly was starting to become obvious; he looked slightly green as his stomach audibly ROARED with all the gas building up inside...and he breathed heavily, panting almost like a huge dog in-between each can, starting with the fourth. Something had to give, and it wouldn’t be long till something did. Sure enough, after polishing off his eighth can, Deuce couldn’t hold it all in anymore. His stomach let out a lurching GRORBLE noise, and he grunted...before his eyes widened and his cheeks ballooned. He lifted a fist in a vain attempt to stifled the blast...but it was no good. His lips flapped as it bellowed forth with tinnitus-inducing volume. “GUUUUUYYYYYUUUUUHHHHHUUUUURRRRRLLLLLUUUUURRRRRP!” The explosive burp seemed to rock the room. Ace yelped, jumping in his seat just as he had finished his seventh can. He blinked with some alarm as Deuce covered his mouth. Spade hiccuped sharply and blinked, flushing red in the face as his other hand clutched his belly. The look of ripe embarrassment on his face was priceless, and you found yourself starting to giggle. “Good one,” you complimented, with a blush of your own. Deuce glared at you reproachfully. Ace began to laugh, slapping his knee. “HA HA HA HA! Wow, you’ve been holding back on us!” he cackled. “I bet even the lion would have a hard time matching that ‘roar,’ ha!” “Sh-sh-shut up!” Deuce stuttered, turning redder than ever. Ace was still sniggering as he grabbed his next can of cola and quickly swallowed it down. Deuce paused for just a few moments more, seemingly to catch his breath after that enormous eructation, but soon got back to drinking. Now the two were neck and neck. And as they drew nearer and nearer to the end of their first boxes, you realized that gas was not the only thing starting to swell and fester inside their guts. Each of the two were dressed in their Heartslabyul dorm outfits: black and white jackets lined with gold, white undershirts under color-coordinated vests - Ace wore strawberry red, and Deuce wore jet black. As they swallowed up more and more of the soft drinks, you could hear the fabric and buttons creak. The fluid and the carbonation it carried were causing both of their bellies to start to swell and stretch, growing rounder and more bloated...you bit your lip and fidgeted in place. It was so hard to stay focused on the video you were taking when real life was right before you...and ooooohhhhhh, how appealing it looked… Speaking of the video, you checked the time...and couldn’t help but whistle, impressed. “You guys work faster than I realized,” you said, with a slightly nervous chuckle. Deuce smiled almost sheepishly. Ace beamed proudly. Both cracked another can open at the exact same time. Nine cans, ten cans, eleven cans...it was no time at all before each reached the last can in their first twelve packs. You could actually hear their stomachs: their bowels growled and their guts “gulunked” as all that thick, fizzy, sugary stuff bubbled inside of them like a cauldron full of good ol’ fashioned witch’s brew. The difference was you didn’t have to worry about Mr. Crewel yapping at you about how you forgot a tablespoon of some ingredient...or the room exploding into frog zombies as a result… ...Potions class was hard… “BEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLUUUUUUURRRRRRRLLLLLLLLCH!” Two blasts of gas - simultaneously synchronized - sonorously blew forth, sounding out like a foghorn and causing the table legs to rattle. You blushed bright red as the abrasive sound caught your attention, and you found yourself looking up at the pair as they paused in their drinking. They had each polished off their first twelve pack, and were lounging back in their seats. Deuce grunted as he began to fiddle with the buttons of his vest, grumbling under his breath about how they had “shrunk in the wash” recently… ...Bless his heart… Ace, meanwhile, let out another crass, shameless belch out of the corner of his mouth - “BRRRRAAAACK!” - and sighed as he drummed his fingers over his swollen stomach. He winced with discomfort at the tightness of his clothes on his belly...but made no move to loosen anything. Instead he looked down at you...and smirked cockily, holding his head high. “Heh heh...havin’ fun down there? Enjoying the show?” he teased. “You know, if Riddle found you both like this, he’d have you both beheaded,” you answered. Deuce froze. Ace gulped nervously. “You wouldn’t,” both said at once. “If Ace here doesn’t stop kink-teasing me, I might,” you smiled oh-so-innocently. Deuce sighed with relief; that was a sure sign to him you weren’t serious. Ace, meanwhile, frowned and grumbled, looking off to the side with a pout. “If I was that lion, you’d be melting like ice cream,” he grumbled. You were about to respond to that when suddenly, Deuce let out a deep sound - somehow groaning and burping at the same time. “Grrrrooooouuuurrrrrrllllllph...mmmaaahhh…” You almost swore your heart skipped a beat as you looked towards him. He had undone his vest and his trouser buttons, and his eyes were fluttering. From under his plain white undershirt, his pale-skinned belly spilled into his lap, his shallow navel winking into view as it sloshed into place, freed of most restraints and sloshing full of soda. “Ohhhh...that feels so much better,” he sighed out...then blinked...and blushed bright red as he realized both you and Ace were staring at him. “Er...uh...I just...um…” “Well,” smirked Ace. “So much for the stuffed shirt Honors Student, huh?” ‘I-I am not a stuffed shirt!” exclaimed Deuce. “Nope. Just a very stuffed Spade,” you couldn’t help but quip. Deuce gave you a look that was best described as “Et tu, Prefect?” Ace cackled; his gut sloshed and bounced with his mirth. Then, a lightbulb seemed to go over his head, and he began to fiddle with his own buttons… GUBLORSH. “BRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOORRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIP! Whew...MAN, that feels good…” You were internally squeeing, and biting your lip almost hard enough to draw blood (almost) as you saw Ace’s belly spill into his lap. He sighed, eyes fluttering with relief...then gave a grin to Deuce, who was staring as if he didn’t know how to react. “There. Now we’re even,” Ace sing-songed. Deuce looked somewhat dubious. “Is that why you did that? Or just to try and make the Prefect’s ears steam?” Now it was YOUR turn to give Deuce the “Et tu?” look. Ace shrugged cheerfully, and patted his belly with pride. “Neither! Just wanted to relieve the pressure. But come on, even if I HAD been, would it be right to hide this perfection away?” “Do you ever think of anything but yourself?” “If you looked like this, would you?” Both you and Deuce shared a look as Ace grunted, stifling a burp with one fist before opening up his second twelve pack. “HHHRRRLLLMMMPH...well, twelve more to go...game’s not over yet. Unless you wanna throw in the towel…” “Not a chance!” declared Deuce, opening his next twelve pack up. “I’m getting you back for that belch in the face!” Ace just guffawed as he pulled another can free, popped it open, and began to drink again. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG… Deuce was quick to follow suit; once again, they were consuming soda almost at the same speed and time. The first can for each vanished within three seconds flat...then came the second...then the third...and then the fourth… It was as they began to guzzle down the fifth can each - which, really, meant the seventeenth - that you started to notice a few things. The first was that you could hear the soda pooling inside their bodies. You could actually detect the sound of it pouring down their gullets and into their massively swollen tankers, like twin waterfalls dropping down into huge basins. You felt your toes curl in your shoes; the heavy saturation of sugar was making them sound aggressively “grumbly,” gurgling and sloshing with the might of ocean waves. These sounds only seemed further amplified by the second thing you noticed, which was the view. Again, you were seated before the two, looking up at them...which meant those giant bellies looked even bigger and more looming than usual. You were NOT going to give either of them (especially Ace) the satisfaction of acting like a mouse, but it was so hard not to FEEL like one...especially as those massively rounded guts continued to swell and grow as they drank more and more. By the time they had begun their second round, their midsections looked as if each had swallowed a football whole. Now, they were inching out further and further, rolling into their laps and making their shirts ride up further and further, exposing more and more of their soft, tender skin… Forget the soda chugging; the real contest in YOUR mind was which belly you wanted to just bury your face and fingers in the most! You somehow held back, though your fingers twitched around the phone you held. The mixture of the noises and the continuing growth, however, led to a third realization: as the pair plucked up their sixth cans each, you abruptly noticed both were starting to slow down. They were huffing and puffing from the weight in their bellies, and once in a while would flinch as their guts “blurgled” sloppily around their hyper-saccharine contents. “Oooof,” groaned out Ace, as he cracked his can open. “I’m...mph...g-gettin’ kinda heavy…”

“Same - HIC! - ugh, same here,” hiccuped Deuce, and gave a determined glare. “But...b-but I’m not quitting yet.” His words were ruined by his stomach ROARING, and he winced, clutching it with his free hand. Ace just smirked, saying nothing, and the two clinked their cans together as if in toast before downing their sixth drinks. Eighteen down now, and only six more to go. GRORLP...BLLLRRRG...RRRRRAAAAAWWWWWRRRRRLLLLLB…! The sounds of gastric effort resounded through Ace’s room as he and Deuce continued to consume their sodas. Deuce was no longer holding back his gas; Ace certainly hadn’t started doing so. They hiccuped more than once, each letting out a BELCH or BURP freely in-between drinks as they downed their nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first sodas. The recycling bin, by now, was overflowing; you glanced back over your shoulder, grateful you had locked the door. With cans now just dropping to the floor in crumpled heaps, if Riddle Rosehearts were to walk in, it would be off with all your heads, you had no doubt. You were also glad Grim was out practicing his fire magic with Ortho; the loudmouthed imp might have caused problems there. It was a miracle all the gassy eruptions hadn’t roused much attention beyond the room, to begin with. Each of the competitors reached for their twenty-second cans; your eyes widened as you looked towards Deuce. Ace was panting and grunting, but his general motions hadn’t slowed down much. However, Deuce had clearly grown more sluggish: he had a lot more inner capacity than most folks realized (though certainly no match for the likes of some aforementioned students), but he was “out of training” on that front. It was obvious that he hadn’t consumed this much soda at once in a long time (if ever at all), and he looked both tired and a little queasy. He drank more slowly, and it looked like he was trying hard just to get it all down… Ace had pulled ahead at the very last minute: he was now on his twenty-third can of soda, and Deuce had just finished the twenty-second. By the time Deuce had started on his twenty-third, Ace was about to begin his final drink! Deuce let out a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a whimper - a difficult noise to describe, indicating sickly desperation - and tried to chug down his twenty-third cola as fast as he could… It wasn’t fast enough. Ace cracked open his twenty-fourth can - the last one in his box - and swilled it down so swiftly, you could have sworn he just inhaled it all in a single swallow. “Guh!” gasped out Ace, and hiccuped loudly - he bounced in his seat from the force of it, his gut sloshing like a water balloon against his thighs - and let the can drop from his grip. “Oooooh...ohhhhh, soooooo full...UUUURRRRP! Ah...haaaah, I f-feel like I’m gonna - HIC! - ohhhh, gonna burst…” He shivered; his expression still bore a smile - though it was slightly forced. You couldn’t help but imagine the phrase “hurts so good” applied to how he had to be feeling right about now. Lazily, languidly, he turned his head to look at Deuce as Deuce moaned with discomfort and tossed his second-to-last can of Vanilla Cola aside. “I win,” Ace grinned. Deuce looked at him in a slow, bleary way, as if he were struggling to stay awake. He hiccuped and groaned; his cheeks swelled, as if he were trying to keep his stomach’s contents in place. He didn’t say a word, just glared at Ace, sullenly. “Awww, don’t be...mph...like that,” Ace said, shifting his posture in his seat. “There’s...ngh...still one can left...g-go ahead. Finish it off.” “What’s the point?” huffed Deuce, and clutched his bare belly tightly as it “glarbled” in a nauseous way. “You already...ow...beat me..” “Well,” Ace cooed, “If you don’t think you can handle...just...one...more…” He started to subtly reach towards Deuce’s box. Something seemed to flare up, and Deuce’s aquamarine eyes flashed with newfound fire. He snatched up his final can of cola before Ace could grab hold of it. Ace smirked triumphantly as he watched his friend down the last of the sodas with gusto. “Gets ‘im every time,” he muttered to himself. You just rolled your eyes. Deuce threw his final can aside and groaned louder than before. He hiccuped and once again looked as if he had to struggle to avoid feeling sick as his breath became shallow and shaky. “Grrrrooooohhhhhh...wh-why...why did I...UUUUUURRRRRRK...agree to this…?” “Wimp,” mumbled Ace, only to quiver and let out a raspy breath of his own, as his stomach rumbled so loudly it visibly vibrated. “Hhhnnnaaaaahhhhhh...Chernabog’s horns, I’m - BRRRUUUOOORRRLLLK - soooooo STUFFED now...haven’t - URP - drank that much in my...m-my life…” You quickly turned off the video, stopping the recording...mostly because you did NOT want it to pick the inevitable “meep” sound you made as you openly ogled your two friends and their bloated bodies. It looked as if they had swallowed a couple of prize-worthy pumpkins whole, their sagging, sloshing stomachs as round and heavy as a pair of medicine balls. “I don’t feel so good,” moaned Deuce. “Speak for yourself,” Ace sighed. “This is AMAZING…” “You can say that again,” you gulped to yourself. “Huh?” both slurred out. “Nothing, guys, nothing,” you said, shaking your head. You got up onto your knees and shuffled towards them. Ace gave you a slothful smirk. “Hey, kneeling before my superior awesomeness?” he teased. “I always knew you would.” You gave him a bored look and responded by lifting a hand and jabbing at his stomach. His belly wobbled with a sound like a water bed. He hissed through gritted teeth before belching messily like a total pig. “BLLLLLLUUUUUURRRRRYYYYAAAAAOOOORRRRRRLLLLLLGP! Oof...okay, okay, sorry...ow, that one kinda hurt,” grunted Ace, thumping his chest with a fist and working up a shorter, softer after burp which you could barely hear. Considering how much your ears were ringing, that wasn’t necessarily a bad point. “You won the match,” you said to Ace. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start treating you like some kinda overlord or whatever.” Ace grumbled unintelligibly. Deuce smirked with satisfaction, tainted only slightly by his clearly ill state. It vanished as his belly burbled noisily however, and he had to fight back a whimper. You smiled sympathetically. “Maybe next time you’ll beat him,” you suggested. “You’re insinuating there may BE a next time,” Deuce groused. “Never. Again.” You had a feeling Ace would find a way to push the not-so-stoic student’s buttons in another direction, but you didn’t say so. Instead, you started to stand. “I’ll get you something to settle your stomach,” you offered Deuce. “Uh...c-could you get me somethin’, too?” Ace asked, and let out an embarrassed, soft laugh as he winced courtesy of a loud gut rumble of his own. “I, uh...mph...I think maybe I’m gonna need it sooner or later...ouch…” You rolled your eyes, but said you would, and started to stand up, patting your knees… ...Only to freeze up short as, suddenly, Deuce grabbed hold of your arm. “Wait...um...maybe you...don’t have to go anywhere?” he suggested. You blinked at him, confused, and cocked your head to one side questioningly. Deuce bit his lip...took a breath...and then tried to elaborate. “You, uh...we both know you have those… ‘Magic Fingers’ of yours, so...maybe...maybe a little bit of that m-might help?” You blinked again, more slowly than before, trying to process what Deuce was asking. “...Are you saying you...want a...a belly rub?” you checked, cautiously. “Only if you don’t mind!” Deuce insisted. “Heeeey, you can’t hog the belly rubs!” Ace cried out. “Besides, we all know mine is a lot softer and smoother than yours!” “Is not.” “Is too!” “Is not.” “Is too!” “Is...this REALLY an argument we’re having?” “Yep. Seems that way.” You were blushing too much to remember how to laugh. “I mean...if you’re...SURE you want it,” you said, in a quiet, quavering voice. Deuce nodded, an almost pleading look in his eyes. Ace grinned and nodded as well, more enthusiastically. You took a deep breath to steady yourself - it was hard to believe you were this lucky - and directed the pair to move closer together. They did, pulling their chairs forward and sideways...and you scurried between them, biting your lip as you looked between their twin bellies, almost identical in shape, size, and apparent texture. Then...unable to repress a little happy shiver of your own...you placed one hand on each of their stomachs, and began to work them over. Your fingers kneaded into the flesh, feeling the soft, supple surface of each titanic tummy. You trailed your fingertips over the plumpened sides and across the curve of their silky-smooth underbellies. You patted them, making both guts bounce and jiggle, and even drew figure-eights around their navel areas. Both of your friends sighed deeply and all but melted at your touch, their arms going limp, heads lolling back, jaws agape as they savored the sensations. “Oohhhhh...oh, no wonder you like doing this,” Ace drawled out. “This is...mmmm, this is AMAZING…” “That’s...ahhhh...mmmmm, that’s soothing,” Deuce crooned. “Thank you, Prefect…” “My pleasure, guys,” you blushed, giving their guts a couple of smacks. “My pleasure.” The pair just grinned and made happy humming sounds as they were pampered and spoiled. You couldn’t help but smile wider as you gave their greedy guts a couple of jiggles, hearing the thick soda-fueled stew slosh and splash and swirl about inside their bodies, so close to you… You were unaware of the fact that, as you worked on both bellies, the two opened one eye each, and looked to each other. Ace grinned wickedly...and Deuce smirked with faint impishness as well… ...And then… WHURLMPH. You let out a muffled yelp as, without warning, the pair shifted their postures...and now, both bellies were smushing agaisnt you, the warm curves of each swollen stomach heating up your already nearly-steaming cheeks. You blinked up shyly as you pushed against both guts to try and find some wiggle room...and your friends smiled down at you with almost identical expressions of mischievous affection. “Beter enjoy it while you can,” whispered Deuce. “Yeah,” chuckled Ace, and winked. “It’ll only be a week till we have our eating contest!” “Eating contest?” Deuce scowled. “Who said anything about that?” “Well...if you don’t think you have a chance at winning…” “I can eat you under a table any day!” “I dare you to prove it!” You sighed and shook your head, the soft flesh sliding across your own as you kneaded and caressed the bellies of your best friends. “Friends with benefits,” you were discovering, was a phrase with more than one definition… ...You hoped their argument wouldn’t go too quickly, though...right now, there was nowhere else you wanted to be, as you nuzzled against Ace’s stomach and patted Deuce’s with a smile. One of these days, you figured, you’d need to see a psychiatrist. But it was not this day.

The End

#disney #twisted wonderland #fanfic #kink fic #stuffing #soda chugging #soda drinking contest #ace trappola #ace #deuce #deuce spade #heartslabyul #card guards #birthday gift #belliesandburps

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julemmaes · 4 years ago

Note

Oksy so don’t feel like you have to do this but nesta and the kids go out grocery shopping and they bump into THOMAS FUCKING MANDARY and Nesta gets super overwhelmed but she’s got the kids and shit so she pretends she’s fine

But later cass comes home and the kids tell him what happens.

(and maybe they have a talk on important stuff about being with someone who loves you and if someone hurts you they don’t love you and it’s beautiful Idk)

Loving And Caring

Nessian modern au set in the The Seven Of Us universe (masterlist)

acotar next gen fan fiction

A/N: This is the reason I’m gonna fail my English exam, so please enjoy:)

The children’s ages: Ezra is 11, Cal is 6, Nora is 3 and Celia is 2. Andra is kinda not born yet.

DON’T COME FOR ME FOR BEING SLOW AS FUCK OR FOR WRITING SUCH ANGSTY PROMPTS. I HAVE 70+ IN MY ASKS BOX AND THEY’RE ALL SO ANSGTY

Word count: 8,185

"I want it!"

"I don't-"

"No, I want this!"

"I said I wanted it first."

"You did not!"

"Mom!"

Nesta Archeron had been called many things in her life. Daughter first. Then sister and friend, woman. She had been appreciated by all the professors she had had the honor of meeting during her studies, who had called her the best in her classes. She had finally found someone who had sincerely called her love and then wife, and she would not give up that last acquired, very important title of mom for anything in the world, but-

Right then she just wanted to strap her kids to the cart and run.

Walking down the cereal aisle, she ran a hand over her swollen, ready-to-burst belly, realizing that she would have to trip and fall on her bump if she wanted to end the problem for good. The baby girl, for whom they still hadn't chosen a name, would be born in a few weeks, and if she didn't get rid of her, too, she would never find peace.

She giggled - or at least she thought she did - at those morbid, disturbing thoughts for which many people would surely have her locked up in a mental hospital, if they found out how often she admitted to wanting to abandon her children.

It had been such a tiring day. She had been home from work for a couple of months now, this fifth pregnancy was breaking her down physically and mentally. She was at the end, in her eighth month, but she would much rather have the last baby out and inside the cart with her sisters by now.

Celia and Nora were babbling something in their imperfect language, and Nesta's heart clenched for her little men at the thought that they would be outnumbered in a few weeks. She and Cassian had experienced that feeling only three years before, and yet she still hadn't forgotten the terror she had felt at the idea of her children turning against them.

They had created a small army.

Casting a quick glance at Ezra who was sneaking something into the cart, she huffed. If the others noticed that he had put a package of junk food in the basket, that would be the end of it.

Moments later, in fact, Cal was looking at the colored bag in the still empty cart with suspicious eyes, and Nesta wasn't going to wait for the fight over who could buy the most junk food that day to begin.

"Ezra, put the snacks back," she said rubbing her hands over her eyes.

Celia mumbled something as she sat inside the cart, and Nora, silently settled next to her, nodded, as if she understood what the other was talking about. It shouldn't have shocked her, but Nesta never ceased to be amazed by that way of communicating that only the two of them understood.

Ezra's icy eyes turned sad when he looked at her and he pouted, "But mom I need them for snacks for school."

Cal looked at him with a furrowed brow, "No you don't. I need them." then he turned to Nesta, "But I don't like these, can I have those?" he asked with a bright smile pointing across the aisle with a wave of his arm.

She leaned forward, sighing and not answering him. Nora looked up at her and reached out her hands toward her mom, letting her know she wanted to be held, but Nesta was aching.

Cal and Ezra hadn't stopped bickering for half a second, and Celia had cried all day because she wanted her dada. Nora had stayed in Nesta's arms the entire walk to the grocery store, and one way or another she knew she would have to carry her all the way back home as well, despite the unbearable back pain. It was less than two kilometers, but with a pregnancy running out and only one hand to restrain any possible child who threatened to throw themselves under the cars whizzing by, it became more mental work than physical.

When Nesta smiled lovingly at her, trying to make her understand that she couldn't hold her right then, Cal burst into tears.

Her daughters' little heads snapped up at their brother, and Nesta cursed herself for deciding to do something as stupid as taking her four young children to the grocery store on an evening when they were all visibly on edge and stressed.

"Dear, what happened?" she asked without even an ounce of concern in her voice. She knew full well that it was just a tantrum. She got confirmation of that when Ezra replied in a whiny tone that they couldn't both buy snacks, or they wouldn't know how to carry them home. At that point Cal's cry became a proper scream and Nesta had to close her eyes to avoid the judgmental stares of the people passing by.

She brought her hands to her temples, massaging her forehead in circular motions, and when she thought she could handle it without throwing up on each of her children, she leaned against the cart, circling around Ezra and crouching with no small amount of difficulty in front of Cal. One hand on her back and the other still clinging to the cart, she grunted as she put one knee on the ground. She felt Nora's little hand rest on hers as she began to speak, "Listen kiddo, we're all very tired and now your brother is going to put his snacks down too," she explained, giving Ezra an inquisitive look over her shoulder. The eldest son rolled his eyes, but he had Celia hand him the package and snortingly put it back. Cal sobbed, sniffling, and Nesta laid a hand on his shoulder, massaging his arm. "How about we read a book together tonight before bed?"

The boy's face scrunched up in a grimace of sadness, "But I want snacks." he sobbed louder. Nesta bit her lip, knowing full well that the fat tears on his cheeks weren't really for the snacks and that she couldn't give in and let them all buy something or she'd end up with two bags full of junk food to carry.

Cal hadn't slept that afternoon, as had everyone else, because of Celia's endless crying, and she hadn't wanted to take her afternoon nap until it was too late and Nora and Cal had gotten out of bed to go play in their rooms. At that point Nesta had been forced to let Celia go, but she knew that had meant agreeing to spend an evening with frustrated and not-rested children.

She was about to respond when a couple of older ladies walked by them, casting an annoyed look at Cal. Nesta would have liked to respond with an ugly hand gesture, but she couldn't do it in front of her children.

In that moment of distraction she hadn't realized that Celia had also started calling her and now, casting a quick glance at her daughter, she felt a very bad feeling sink into her stomach at the sight of the little girl's tear-filled eyes.

She looked at Ezra, taking a deep breath, and noticed that even the oldest of her children seemed bothered by the course of action Nesta had taken. She felt tremendous guilt at seeing that the only one of her children who didn't seem disappointed or angry with her was Nora.

It all got worse when one of the two ladies who had just passed her said loud enough so she could hear her, "I don't understand why some people don't stop with their first child. It's obvious she can't even handle one, listen to her screaming."

Nesta felt the emotion grow in her throat.

"When someone isn't born to be a parent, it shows immediately. She's one of those awful mothers who doesn't know how to take care of her children." the other added.

Nesta caught her breath, fixing her gaze in Cal's. Celia was crying by now, spluttering to be picked up as she tried to keep her balance inside the cart.

She wasn't going to answer. She wasn't going to answer.

"Let's go home." she whispered suddenly, laying a hand on the small of her back and pulling herself up with a tremendous effort, a twinge of pain went through her legs and back, "Cal, dear, we'll buy the snacks another time, for now we'll just take the bread and milk, tomorrow come back with daddy and take whatever you want, okay?" she spoke quickly, in a high, steady voice so that all four of them could hear her. She just hoped they didn't hear how desperately she was trying not to burst into tears over what the ladies had just said.

Cal nodded, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt and immediately stopping crying. Ezra looked thoughtful, but he too had stopped pouting. The only one who still looked upset was Celia, who followed her by walking inside the cart, moving where she stood.

Seeing the little girl's red face and dripping nose, arms outstretched toward her, Nesta heard only the words "awful mother" repeated in her mind.

With a knot in her throat and a cry that she was sure would break free as soon as she stepped into the house, Nesta pushed forward, bumping the cart with her belly as she picked up Celia and placed her on her side. The little girl immediately stopped crying, resting her head on her mother's shoulder and cupping her tiny hand over her shirt.

Now, beyond the emotional wound that had just been inflicted on her, Nesta could feel the pain in her back growing with every step she took. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop a sob that threatened to break that composed attitude she had.

Everything hurt so bad.

Cal was running in front of them all, stomping his feet on the ground and making the little lights on his shoes glow. Ezra was walking beside her, one hand on the edge of the cart as he mouthed off to Nora, but he had to stop when Nesta froze in the middle of the aisle, taking an abrupt breath. She brought a hand to her belly, feeling the baby move and kick, only adding to the pain.

"Ezra, love," she breathed, stepping aside and holding Celia against her side, then asked between her teeth as the baby continued her assault inside her, "could you push the cart?"

He nodded, his face lighting up as if she had asked him to take control of a ship.

Celia began to squirm on her side and Nesta had the urge to drop her, not voluntarily, but it all hurt so much that her body was begging her to sit up, to take all that unnecessary weight off her arms.

At the idea that she would have to walk home she felt her eyes grow heavy with tears.

She put Celia back in the cart, breathing a sigh of relief as some of the pain eased in her lower back. Nora was now standing and smiling at Ezra, who was struggling to see where he was going past his sister.

Nesta looked up just as Cal hopped out of the aisle and fell to the ground, crashing into someone's cart. Or rather, as someone ran over him with their cart and slamming him to the ground.

She didn't even think about it as she started walking as fast as her body would allow towards her son, leaving the other three behind. By the time she reached him, Cal was standing there laughing in amusement and was running his hands over his pants to get the dust off his palms. Once she made sure he wasn't hurt, she was ready to yell at whoever had dropped her son, ready to take out all her frustration and doubts on the stranger, when she heard a voice that sent chills down her spine.

"Nesta Archeron?"

She moved her head so fast she was surprised she hadn't snapped her neck, but her brain didn't have time to process the pain the jolt had caused her, because there standing before her was Tomas Mandray.

She couldn't believe it.

Any thought of yelling at the stranger vanished like an echo in her mind.

How was it possible that he was there?

"Is it really you?" he asked her with wide eyes and an incredulous smile on his face. He circled the cart, shifting his gaze to Cal, and Nesta felt the overwhelming instinct to grab her son and hide him behind her. When Tomas reached out a hand toward him, ruffling his hair, she felt vomit rise in her throat. They had to get out of that place immediately. "I can't believe it." he voiced her thoughts, "Is this yours?" he asked looking into her eyes again.

This... he was talking about Cal.

She couldn't find the words and continued to stare at the man in front of her with wide eyes - scared eyes, if you knew Nesta, if you knew where to look. And Tomas knew it. Tomas had always known it.

She heard Ezra reach them, and then something slammed into her side. She didn't need to lower her head to catch a glimpse of Nora's little pigtails of black hair or hear Celia's amused giggle.

Tomas snorted a laugh out of his nose, crossing his arms over his chest, "Are they all yours?" then moved his gaze to her belly to bring it back up to her breasts and Nesta wanted to say something to him, to insult him, to hit him, to take him away from her children, but she felt her heart pounding in her throat and the air couldn't reach her lungs.

That tone-

That tone wasn't of someone who was happy to hear that you'd made a new life for yourself after they'd managed to destroy you completely. It wasn't the tone of an old friend who you hadn't seen in years and who you're about to agree to hang out with and tell them about everything that happened in your lives.

No, it was the tone he had used every day, every hour, when he needed to belittle her, when he needed to make her feel insignificant, worthless.

"Mom?"

Nesta turned her head so slowly toward her son, blinking, that she must have seemed like another person entirely. No longer the proud, strong woman she'd shown everyone for years on that side. Ezra had one eyebrow arched, as if wondering what was going on, and was clasping hands with a jumping Celia.

She didn't have the energy to turn around, to look at the man who had pushed her to the bottom of the barrel and destroyed her, but she managed to throw out a weak, "Kids we have to go, we're not taking anything." then turning to Cal, she took his arm, pulling him towards his siblings, "Let's go."

She felt Tomas' eyes creeping over her like slimy hands. She could still remember the last time he'd touched her, when she'd gone over the edge, offering herself to him to avoid yet another fight or worse.

For that, when his true hand tightened around her wrist, pulling her slightly to let her stay there, she flinched.

"Nesta."

She spun around, bringing her free hand to her belly for protection. When the little girl inside her kicked again, making her groan through her teeth in pain, Tomas smiled in a way that made Nesta hope she was anywhere but there.

"Is she kicking?"

And then it all happened quickly. She couldn't move, couldn't pull away, as the grip on her wrist tightened and Tomas pulled her closer to him and placed his other hand on her stomach, next to hers. A soundless sob escaped her control and her breath labored as she felt his fingers move over her shirt.

She was going to throw up.

She gave a tug so hard that the twinge of pain started at her wrist and reached her elbow, but she was free. She smacked the hand on her, taking several steps back and bringing Cal with her. She had started pushing the front of the cart, trying to position it in the direction they had come from.

She met Ezra's gaze for a moment, before her son's eyes slipped behind her, on Tomas' figure.

"Ezra." she called to him in a firm voice. Four pairs of eyes snapped in his direction. That was the tone of a tired mother issuing orders to her children at the end of the day, "Eyes on me."

She didn't want anything of Tomas's to come into contact with her children. She didn't want him to contaminate them the way he had contaminated her.

She lifted Cal off the ground and the child quietly let her pick him up without too much of a fuss. She didn't feel the strain at all as she pulled him high enough to put him in the cart with the girls. Looking at her oldest, she hoped she could secure him like she was doing with the other three, but he was too big to fit in the cart himself.

Before she could tell him to follow her without saying a word, Tomas spoke again.

"What a beautiful name, Ezra," she felt the venom bind each letter.

Ezra was about to turn around, probably to thank him, as she and Cassian had taught him, but Nesta squeezed his shoulder, "Keep looking ahead and walking, I don't want you talking to him."

"Always so fucking obnoxious," Tomas spat at that point.

Nesta froze in her tracks. She could feel him following them as he tortured her. Ezra froze beside her, tugging at her sleeve to get her attention.

Always so obnoxious. You're useless, worthless. I'm the only person who will ever be able to put up with your bullshit. You'll never find anyone else.

She felt the panic rise, the agitation for one of her children to realize how uncomfortable she was at that moment. She closed and opened her hands on the cart's handlebars, hoping to relieve some of that tension.

"I'm amazed to see you with so many children," he continued, creeping up beside her and stopping in front of her cart, blocking her way with his. She looked up at him, feeling the air scratch at her throat. He had aged, she could see it in the features around his eyes, his mouth - he had aged and yet still had the same look. "I didn't think you'd ever date again after I left you."

I left you. She wanted to tell him. I had the courage to leave.

She didn't answer him, straightening her back.

Tomas smirked, lowering his gaze to her daughters and his smile widened even more.

"Don't look at them," she snapped, still maintaining her composure.

The man looked up at her one more time, "They'll be just as pretty as their mother when they grow up." then looked at Cal and Ezra, sliding a finger over the edge of his cart. "Who's the father?"

"Dada." muttered Celia, flapping her little hands.

Nesta wanted to recoil at the sound. She didn't want Tomas to hear her talk, didn't want him to watch them. She didn't want them breathing his same air.

"It's none of your business and now move over," she whispered to him. All she could think about was the fact that she had to get her children out of there as soon as possible. Therefore, when he didn't move an inch, she added. "Please."

Tomas laughed. He laughed, leaning his head back and clutching his hand around the mesh of her cart. "Nessie Nessie," he clicked his tongue on his palate, a remnant of laughter in the tone of his voice that made the woman's gut tangle, "I haven't seen you in so long. I want to know everything."

"Please." she repeated, as her eyes filled with tears. His own widened slightly, surprised to see such a reaction in her. She didn't care if he saw her weak, she didn't care if she had to get down on her knees. He was keeping them trapped, and Nesta knew he wouldn't let them leave until he squeezed even the last drop of sanity out of her.

If Ezra still realized what was going on, she didn't know, and it scared her even more. Cal was looking at her and looked worried, probably having never seen her so shaken in her life.

She was about to beg him a third time. Beg him to free her from whatever that game was that they were stuck in at that moment, but someone said her name. Ezra looked behind them and Nesta saw the shadow of a smile on his face, prompting her to turn around in turn. A choked sound escaped her throat as she bit her upper lip to keep from bursting into tears, and a wave of gratitude washed over her.

"Miss Archeron," the man smiled at her. Drakon Cretea had been Nesta and Cassian's neighbor for years now. He and his wife Myriam had babysat their children so many times that they were their go-to people. In fact, Celia and Nora had snapped to their feet at the sound of the voice of the acquired grandfather they loved so much.

Nesta didn't waste a moment turning the cart so that it faced Drakon. The children, Ezra included, began to cheer happily at having met a familiar face, and Nesta allowed herself to look over her shoulder.

With such relief that she thought she might collapse to the ground, she saw that Tomas was already pulling away, and as he turned the corner, pulling into another aisle, she took a deep breath through her nose, closing her eyes.

She had made it.

***

Cassian was exhausted.

He had spent the entire day grading exams for first-year students with his aide, and it was as if he could see the letters behind his eyelids every time he blinked. It was much more feasible to work in the university library, where he didn't risk being interrupted by a child every five minutes, but he only tried to do it once or twice a month during exam sessions, knowing full well how exhausting it was for Nesta to keep up with all the children together until late in the evening, especially now that Andra was about to arrive.

"Andra." he murmured into the silence of his car. Nesta kept telling him that they weren't sure that would be the name of their fifth child, but Cassian didn't care. He just needed to name his wife's belly when talking to his daughter.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned off the car in the driveway and stepped out, stretching his arms up just enough to make his back crack.

Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he huffed. It was too late for his girls to still be awake, but maybe he'd be able to say goodnight to Cal and Ezra.

He had warned Nesta that he was going to be late, and she had simply replied that she would leave dinner ready in the kitchen for when he returned.

Opening the front door, he immediately saw two little dark heads popping up from above the couch. Cal was already running at him when he closed the door behind him and jumped on him as soon as he had put his stuff down, "Dad!"

"Kiddo!" said Cassian throwing him into the air.

Cal laughed waving his arms, "Sssh," he scolded him still laughing, "the girls are sleeping."

"Oops," dad made a guilty face, stopping their game and putting Cal down.

Ezra was too focused on watching TV and wasn't paying the slightest attention to Cassian, but he walked over to the couch anyway, lowering himself just enough so he could leave a kiss on his hair, "Hi love." he murmured to him.

The little boy's head snapped toward him and with a crooked smile on his face and his pajama collar in his mouth, he said, "Hi dad."

Cassian scoffed amused, ripping his pajamas from between his teeth, "How many times have I told you not to eat your clothes?"

"Sorry," Ezra said, not sounding sorry at all.

Cal had gone back to lying next to his brother and they both seemed too caught up in the cartoon to pay any attention to it, so he went into the kitchen, loosening the tie around his neck and praying that Nesta had cooked something good - though the opposite was quite unlikely considering the woman's innate cooking skills.

He moaned with delight when he realized it was the meatballs she always made when she didn't feel like cooking and, taking the plate, he headed back to the living room. He plopped down in between his sons, taking the pajamas out of Ezra's mouth again and offering them both a meatball.

"So, what have you guys been up to today?" asked Cassian with a full mouth, slipping off his shoes and placing his feet on the coffee table.

First Cal and then Ezra told him in full detail about what they had done at school and then about the fact that none of them had slept that afternoon. Cassian was surprised to find out that Cal could still stand up without getting any rest.

When they got to the point where Nesta had taken them out walking and they had made it all the way to the supermarket, he had stopped them.

"Guys come on," he looked at them with incredulous eyes, "I told you to keep her home."

It was true. Lately Nesta had been pushing her limits when the doctors had told her to exert herself and stress as little as possible. With childbirth imminent too, it was risky for her to walk around without any other adults.

Ezra had the decency to look guilty, "I know, but-"

"We also met a weird dude," Cal interrupted him.

Cassian looked at him taking on a confused expression, "Weird?"

"Yeah, he knew mom," Ezra nodded, looking at the TV and talking thoughtlessly. He was bowing his head slowly and Cassian unconsciously extended a hand towards him, shutting his mouth before he could start chewing on the fabric once again. He looked at him at that point, continuing the story, "Mom was all weird, though."

"Weird." repeated Cassian.

"Yeah, weird." repeated Cal in turn, then chuckled, "He even hit me with the cart."

He and Ezra laughed together, remembering how Cal had fallen on his bum, but Cassian's thoughts were elsewhere. Clearly the fact that someone had rolled his son with a cart must not have been traumatic or painful, or Nesta would have called him and Cal wouldn't have been there laughing, but the fact that they had described her with an adjective like "weird" had him on high alert.

"Do you happen to know the man's name?" asked Cassian, pulling himself up and setting his plate down on the coffee table, keeping his gaze on his hands.

Ezra shook his head, "No, also because mom didn't talk to him much and then Drakon showed up."

"Oh, yeah," Cal repeated excitedly, his eyes glowing, "then Drakon showed up."

Cassian was on his feet before his youngest son had finished speaking. He started up the stairs to go upstairs, where he hoped he would find Nesta awake, but warned the two little men that he would go change and be back down to them in a jiffy.

With a strained expression and a bad feeling working its way through him, he walked down the hall, opening the door to his daughters' room slightly. Both Celia and Nora were already fast asleep, and Cassian felt a smile break out on his lips... his little gems. He couldn't believe yet another one would be arriving soon.

He closed the door, making sure not to make any noise, and then headed to his room, praying that Nesta was okay and that his children had misunderstood everything.

He heard her before he even entered. He could picture her pacing back and forth through their room, muttering about what was bothering her at the moment.

He took a deep breath, ready to fight whatever demons there would be to fight that night together, and tightening his hand around the doorknob, he lowered it, pushing himself into the room.

Nesta stopped short, both hands wrapped under her belly to help support that extra weight she was always complaining about.

The second Cassian's eyes found hers, her expression completely transformed and a desperate sob broke the silence that had formed between them.

"Nesta." he said as if someone had just sucked the air from his lungs. Reaching for her with two quick strides and wrapping her in his arms, Cassian heard all kinds of emotion in his wife's crying.

When he stroked her back, Nesta let go a wail of pain and he immediately pulled away, still keeping his hands around her elbows as much as her cold hands tightened around his forearms.

"God, Nesta what happened?"

She only cried harder, loosening her grip on him when she was sure he wouldn't pull away. She managed to say between sobs, "Everything hurts."

Cassian felt as if the floor has cracked open beneath them. "Is it the baby?"

Nesta's eyes went wide, probably only realizing at that moment what state he'd found her in, "No, she's fine." then, seeing his increasingly worried expression, she added, "I promise the baby's fine."

Cassian sagged at little, reducing his lips to a thin line, gently pushed her towards the bed to get her to sit up, but Nesta shook her head, taking short, overly fast breaths, "I can't."

Cassian paused, taking her hands and trying to restrain himself from asking her who they had met that afternoon that had managed to trigger such a reaction in her. There was no way she could have been in that state just from being tired.

"I can't." repeated Nesta sobbing and looking into his eyes. "Everything hurts, Cassian."

He sighed, closing his eyes. Seeing her in this state was nothing new unfortunately. With four pregnancies behind them and everything they'd been through in the years prior to their marriage, it wasn't unusual for either of them to be in such a condition.

He opened his eyes, trying to keep a firm tone, "How come you can't sit down?"

"If I sit the pain gets worse." she said between choked breaths.

Cassian furrowed his brow, wanting to yell at her about how stupid it had been of her to go walking that afternoon, but he restrained himself. "Have you tried lying down?" he proposed.

Nesta shook her head again, "Any position hurts my back or my legs," she explained.

"Tell you what," he began hesitantly, taking both of her hands, "why don't you put on those super pants that support your belly - or I'll help you put them on, it's no problem," he added quickly when he saw the pain in her features, "and then I'll give you a leg massage while you're standing?" he said smiling at her coyly. Nesta sniffed, nodding slowly. "And when sitting doesn't hurt anymore or is bearable you get on your knees on the bed or lean against the keyboard and I massage your back too, are you up for that?"

She squeezed his hands to let him know she was okay with everything, so Cassian smiled at her, returning the squeeze and starting to pull away from her to go get the leggings, but Nesta's eyes went wide and a few tears rolled down her cheeks, "Where are you going?"

Cassian grimaced worriedly.

Why hadn't she called him if she was feeling this bad?

He moved back as close as he could without crushing Andra between them, "I was just going to get my pajamas, Nes, and your pants." he placed a hand on her face, stroking away the remnants of her crying. Then he sighed, pushing her forehead into his and keeping his eyes open as he whispered, "I love you."

She repeated it quietly, almost a sigh.

He undressed quickly, slipping into his pajamas with equal haste as Nesta stood motionless in the center of the room, waiting for him to return to her.

"Listen," Cassian began, kneeling in front of her as he helped her out of the pajama pants she was wearing, "the boys told me you met someone today." he forced himself to look at her, when the grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened. Cassian studied the reaction he'd elicited from her and bit the inside of his cheek, seeing how Nesta had frozen and put her foot down. He took a deep breath, giving her knee a little tap to let her know she needed to get it back up, "They didn't tell me who it was and I don't think they know, but I got some ideas and I want-" he swallowed loudly, thinking seriously about what might have happened if his doubts were real, "If it's Tomas, I want to know if you're okay." he said in a lower voice, looking at her from under his lashes. Nesta didn't answer.

He had managed to get both of her feet into her pants and was pulling them up gently, trying not to hurt her. He had to pull up the skirt of the robe she used during all her pregnancies when none of her pajamas fit anymore, uncovering her belly and left a gentle kiss on her skin, smiling at his daughter, "Hello my little sunshine."

He felt Nesta shiver and thinking it was from the cold he hurried to cover her belly with her pants and then pull her nightgown down.

He looked at her more seriously than ever as he settled on the floor in front of her so he could massage her into a comfortable position. He was about to speak, to ask her again how she was doing, but she beat him to it.

"What did you do today?" she asked in a weak voice.

Cassian closed his mouth, bouncing his legs, pondering whether to insist that she spoke or let her distract him with that question. He decided for the latter, even though his wife already knew very well what he had done that day, "This morning there was an exam of Ancient History for the first years." he began to speak while pressing his thumbs on her left thigh. Nesta was leaning her hands on his shoulders. "I have to be honest, I've never seen exams as crappy and ignorant as this session's," he continued while keeping his gaze fixed on her face. "It's like people stopped studying all of a sudden and thought they could pass my exams by learning the bare minimum."

He shifted on her other thigh and Nesta snapped forward, groaning softly as Cassian touched a particularly numb muscle.

"Sorry." he smiled at her, "Then at lunch I stayed in the faculty with Gwyn and Luc, and by the way, they asked me if you'd be okay with organizing a lunch this weekend, with everyone?"

Nesta rolled her eyes, "I can't even walk, let alone plan a lunch with everyone," she pointed out to him in an irritated tone.

Cassian chuckled, "I'll let Gwyn know you told her to fuck off nicely."

"Yes, thank you," she replied to him. But then she bit her lip, thoughtfully, "But if they want to do something at her or Elain's that's fine. I can also cook, but not here, please, I don't feel like tidying up afterwards." she looked into his eyes with a pleading look.

"It's okay, it's not a problem," he shifted to her calves, "Although, if the only problem has to be the fact that you don't feel like tidying up, you know I wouldn't let you."

Nesta grunted, "I don't want you to do all the work yourself."

Cassian let out a puff of air through his nostrils, "You can't be the only one working hard in this house Nes, let me have some of the glory too." he joked.

"But I'm not the only one." she said in an overly serious tone, "You're always at work and I know you're working overtime, filling in for your colleagues, don't think I haven't noticed," she scolded him. Cassian lowered his head, feeling his cheeks turn red. "And I'm here at home and I can't work and I've been like this for months now and even before that with Celia-" she sighed, bringing a hand to her face, "I just wish I could help you bring something extra home."

Cassian stopped massaging her leg, surprised at what he was hearing. He moved away from her, enough so that he could stand up without bumping into her stomach and then looked at her, shaking his head, "What on earth are you talking about?" he asked, "Nesta you're raising our children. You're doing a much more tiring and exhausting job than mine ever will be." he pulled himself upright, "True, it's just as rewarding and enjoyable to be able to stay home and watch our children grow up, but you're the biggest help I could ever get right now. We don't need money right now."

"But-"

"No buts." he said arching his eyebrows and pushing her towards the bed, "Do you think you can sit?" she nodded pensively and let him help her up onto the mattress. "Nesta what you're doing is admirable and I'm sure not everyone could handle it as well as you can."

Nesta stopped in the middle of the bed, turning to look at him with a shocked expression.

Cassian was just as shocked. That she didn't realize how much she was actually helping him was beyond comprehension.

"I can only get by because you're there," she murmured, looking away, "I'd never make it on my own."

"And no one expects you to make it, Nes." he said stunned. He really couldn't understand where all the doubt was coming from, "You don't have to make it on your own and you're not doing it on your own."

He had her settled so that her back was to him and she was turned to the wall. He placed his hands over her back and began to make concise circles on the bottom, applying pressure where he knew the pain was most concentrated. Nesta's head fell forward in relief.

"You really don't think you're helping me in any way?"

"No, I-" she froze mid-sentence, "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" he asked, using his knuckles to massage her shoulder muscles.

Nesta groaned softly, "It's just that I wish I could go back to work and read all the books I want and I wish I could feel tired and be able to let my kids cry without anyone telling me what to do and how to do it. I wish I could move without the terror of going into labor at any moment and-" she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I wish I wasn't so hormonal right now."

He could tell that her thoughts were all over the place.

There had been other such crises during Celia's pregnancy. The fear that they wouldn't measure up as parents to so many children. They were in constant thought that they were not giving them enough, that they were teaching them the wrong lessons. Cassian had received some nasty comments himself about how they were raising their children, and he knew right away that someone must have said something to Nesta that day.

They had always had stronger, more heartfelt reactions on her, and now that she was pregnant it was all much more altered.

"What happened today?" he asked her under his breath after a few moments of silence.

"No one slept, I didn't have a moment's peace and then we left and walked to the mall. I had to carry Nora all the way there and-" her voice broke on the last sentence and Cassian stopped his ministrations on her. He laid both hands on her back, getting as close as he could, letting his hands slide down her hips and then over her belly, until his chest made contact with her back and Nesta pushed back against him.

She dropped her head onto Cassian's shoulder.

"And?" he murmured, spurring her on.

"Everything hurt so much, Cass," she replied in a watery voice, "It was like I was being stabbed in the back and I couldn't put Nora down because she'd start crying."

A sharp twinge of pain shot through his chest. He began to gently massage her belly and shortly after he felt her small hands settle on his, pushing harder, "No one would try to say you're a bad mother just because you don't pick up your daughter when you're hurting."

She didn't answer.

"Celia?" he asked.

"Ezra and Cal held her hand the whole way, she walked so much," she said with a half smile on her face. "When we walked in they immediately started acting up and then they started crying and I couldn't take it anymore and these ladies said I was an awful mother and it's true, Cassian." she jerked in his arms as she said those last words. He only held her tighter, taking a deep breath. "Who is the mother who can't calm her own children when they cry? Her own children." she shook her head, running a hand under her eyes.

He couldn't see her face, but he knew she had started crying again.

"Nesta listen to me." he whispered to her, kissing her shoulder and then the tip of her ear. "You are the most loving and caring mother I know. Your children are perfectly healthy and you've never let them lack for anything. You've never raised your voice to them. You've never threatened them or grounded them-"

"I'm not a monster," she muttered.

"And more importantly," he said smiling and holding her tighter, "your children are happy."

"But Cal today-"

"Cal is downstairs watching TV with his brother and he's been telling me about his day and he's the happiest kid ever," he interrupted her, "Just because he threw a tantrum and cried a little doesn't mean you're not a good mother."

She sighed and nodded, though she didn't look convinced.

Cassian continued to stroke the spots on her belly where he knew her skin pulled the most, her hand still on his playing with the wedding ring on his finger when Nesta said, "I saw Tomas today."

Cassian froze behind her, holding his breath. He'd known it, but hearing the fear in her voice now as she said the name of the man Cassian hated most in the world didn't stop him from wincing.

"He bumped Cal with the cart and knocked him over and I didn't realize it was him until he called me," Nesta continued.

When Cassian spoke, his voice came out much harsher and tighter than he intended, "Did he-" he cleared his throat, "Did he say anything?"

"No, he-" Nesta brought both hands to her stomach, shifting his. She moved uncomfortably in his arms and Cassian loosened his grip on his wife, realizing she wanted to move. He grabbed her by the hips, trying to pull her up so she could turn toward him, and when she was finally sitting up with her back against the headboard of the bed, she sighed. "I saw him, Cass, and I froze." she said under her breath, looking into his eyes. "He touched Cal's hair and it was like he was touching me, again, and I completely froze and then the baby kicked and he touched my-" she took a ragged breath as her eyes filled with tears. When she spoke again, her voice was so weak that Cassian had to appeal to every ounce of his reasoning not to get up and go find Tomas to kill him.

He took her hands, remaining silent as a revolting feeling took over his body. The idea of Nesta being touched by that filthy man made his guts turn. The idea of his children-

A choked sob brought him back into the room, "And I wanted him to go and stop looking at Ezra and Celia and Nora and I could only move when Ezra called me, but he followed us and blocked our way. He asked me about you, wanted to know who you were, and it was like going back in time and I couldn't- I couldn't, Cass-" Nesta brought a hand to her chest, her eyes and mouth wide as panic appeared in her gaze and air struggled to reach her lungs.

Cassian squeezed her hands, speaking softly, "Nesta, it's okay." a sob from her, "You're all home." he murmured starting to massage her palm, "You're home with me."

Her breathing became even more erratic and she shook her head, closing her eyes.

Cassian closed his eyes as well, "I'm sorry you had to see him again and I'm sorry you couldn't move, but it's understandable, sweetheart." he was trying to keep his tone of voice relatively low, to calm her down, but it was proving difficult for him as he viewed Tomas watching his daughters. "He shouldn't have touched your belly. He shouldn't have just touched you at all. And he shouldn't have gotten close to Cal or Andra." he seethed. "And if I could I would go to him and rip his hands off." he let slip as he imagined the terror Nesta must have felt at that moment.

Nesta sobbed and the sound broke Cassian's heart, "I'm sorry," she said, "I'm sorry."

A pang of pain tightened in his chest as his face turned into a mask of controlled anger, "Don't ever apologize to me, please," he whispered, "Not for this stuff."

"But I couldn't do anything, even after all this time-" a hiccup broke the sentence, "He still has all this power over me. It's not fair."

It's not fair.

Cassian nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, "You're right, it's not fair." he squeezed her hands lightly, telling her to look at his face. She quickly did so. "You're not with him anymore. You're free. You don't owe him anything, just like you never owed him anything." Nesta took a shaky breath, stopping sobbing. "You have a family, you're a wonderful mother and wife. And you deserve all of this."

Nesta's eyes went wide, realizing where this was going.

Cassian took a deep breath, "You're not worthless, you're not hopeless or useless." he closed his eyes as Nesta mimicked him, breathing deeply in turn. "You are a strong, independent woman, it doesn't matter how much he said otherwise. It didn't matter before and it doesn't matter now. It's just meaningless words.

"I know you, Nesta, and you are the light of my life. The light of every person in this house. The only thing that keeps us going." he whispered in a weak voice, as Nesta leaned forward toward him and cried silently.

Cassian moved closer to her on the mattress so that she could rest her forehead against his chest, his shoulder, wherever she wanted, for support.

He had repeated those words to her so many times over the years. He didn't think he'd ever have to do it again, certainly not after so long that they both knew Tomas had moved to another continent entirely.

"I know you and you're nothing like he describes," he encircled her shoulders with arms when Nesta let go of a particularly loud sob. "You are the exact opposite of what he says." he kissed one temple, stroking the hair on her back.

She shivered in his arms, "I know." she whispered against his shirt.

Cassian managed to force a smile onto his lips, even though she couldn't see it, he knew she would hear it when he spoke, "I'm proud of you."

"Why?"

"Because I can only imagine how hard it was for you to see him again, and although I would have appreciated a different approach to everything that happened this afternoon, you handled it perfectly and our kids are fine." he passed his hands over her shoulders and pushed her away from him so he could look at her face. "And it's okay that you broke down now, it's normal. I'm glad you told me about it. Thank you." he spoke against her lips.

She smiled, breathing a laugh through her tears, "I love you."

"I love you." repeated Cassian, sighing. He cupped her cheek, brushing a thumb under her eye, before kissing her. No rush or force, just pure, raw emotion as their lips caressed in a desperate kiss.

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blindingdutchy · 3 years ago

Text

lamentation | FIVE

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 4,111

warnings: mostly fluff, some angst toward the end, mentions of injury

18+!!! minors stay away!

You didn't get much work done with Peter during the weekend. Following your emotional outburst over the argument between the pair of you, Peter stayed at your house surprisingly late into the night. You both seemed to agree the project could wait for a different day, and instead of working you spent the evening talking. While you didn't have much to talk about, Peter had a seemingly endless supply of subject matter to keep you both entertained.

Already you could tell that you were growing attached to him, probably far too much and far too soon, but there was no stopping it any longer. He made you feel good things and gave you a sense of normalcy you'd been craving for so long; there was no way you were giving that up any time soon. If he hurt you in the end, you'd deal with the pain because at least you got a bit of relief in the present.

That Friday evening had been one of the best nights of your life, regardless of how mundane or even boring it probably would have seemed to your younger self. You learned a lot about Peter, more than he'd already forced you to know in the weeks leading up to that night, and you answered all his random and silly questions about yourself. You learned that his favorite colors were red and blue, totally un-ironically, and that he'd gotten his abilities the summer between the eighth and ninth grades.

You also learned that Peter was just as stubborn and competitive as you used to be, and something about that knowledge sparked some of the old flame back into you. So, chasing after the fire that used to warm you, you made a deal with him. If he could prove to you that the Avengers were not as bad as you thought they were, then you would willingly do your speech in favor of the superheroes.

"You--you what?" Peter sputtered, laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach with both hands and gasp for air, "You really cut the hair off of all of your sister's dolls because she beat you at checkers?"

You snorted, a harsh sound that made your nose ache as you laughed along with him, "Yes! She knew how competitive I was, and she took that risk by challenging me. I never lost a game of checkers again after that."

He slipped into another torrent of giggles much to your amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a beautiful smile that made your own chuckling soften as you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of it. Peter Parker was certainly a very breathtaking spectacle to behold, and you had to wonder why he wasn't so much more popular in school. You knew why, everyone could see the relentless torment that Flash Thompson unleashed on him, but it still made no sense to you.

What was there to dislike about Peter? Just days ago you'd been beyond annoyed by him, and weeks before that you'd been entirely uncaring of his existence, but already that all seemed completely nonsensical to you. Now that you'd let him in, given him a chance, it seemed impossible to ever not like him again.

Wheezing breathlessly, Peter chortled, "I can't even judge you. One time, when Ned and I were thirteen, he bet that he could finish a LEGO set before me. He was going to beat me, and I may have accidentally knocked it off the table so he had to start over."

"So," you finally gasped as you stopped laughing, "so, what you're saying is, you're just as stubborn as I am and we're definitely never going to agree on this project?"

His chuckles slowly died out as he nodded, "I guess so."

You knew what he meant to say, and that was the fact that he didn't feel he was being needlessly stubborn in this situation. This wasn't about competition to him. No, this was about him not seeing himself or his colleagues in a negative light; he couldn't fathom the distaste you had for them.

As much as you disagreed, you could understand that. You could understand how he would see the people he worked alongside as good people. It made sense that he would have a different perspective when he was the one out saving civilians from big and small horrors alike, rather than being the one to suffer the consequences of the destruction that happened as a result.

Along with your understanding, you also didn't think that Peter was a bad person. You couldn't possibly imagine him causing harm, intentionally or not, and maybe that was why you said what you did next. Maybe that was why you proposed, "I'll make you a deal. If you can prove to me that the Avengers are not who I think they are, then I'll take your stance for the speech. Give me a reason to speak positively of them, and I will."

Even now, as you made your way toward your locker at school on Monday, you weren't entirely sure what had made you decide to propose such a thing. You were pretty certain that you were setting Peter up for failure. In your eyes, there wasn't much of anything that Peter could say, do, or show you that would change your mind. Nothing would make what had happened to your sister okay or forgivable.

Yet, he clearly did not feel the same way. Peter looked as if he was walking on sunshine that morning as he pranced along beside you, a triumphant grin on his face as he whispered, "I have a plan."

"A plan?"

He grinned wider as you looked at him curiously, "Yes, a plan. To change your mind."

Quirking an eyebrow expectantly, you waited for him to elaborate as you gathered your things from your locker for class. He never did, only continuing to practically vibrate with excitement beside you in silence. "Are you going to tell me what this plan of yours is?" you prodded.

"No." When you looked at him in confusion he continued, "If I tell you what it is, you're not going to have an open mind. You're going to think of all the reasons it won't change your mind, and then it won't."

Suddenly, you were the one chasing after Peter instead of the other way around. All day you found yourself glancing to him suspiciously and following him around much like he had you in all the weeks leading up to your budding friendship, and it was a big change of pace for you. You felt a little pathetic following him like a lost puppy, but you were nosy and wanted to know what his plan was.

No matter how much you pried, though, he didn't budge. In Calculus he ignored your staring and whispers with a far too smug smirk on his face, though you secretly liked the way it looked on him. Who would have guessed that Peter Parker could be arrogant?

In Gym class he teasingly ran faster than you could keep up the moment you asked again, only slowing down once you begrudgingly promised to leave the subject alone. Though he did tell you he wouldn't run faster than you anyways because people would probably get suspicious if he suddenly turned into a track star. He had to play the roll of the un-athletic nerd regardless.

At lunch he didn't sit with you for the first time since he'd started joining you. He'd waved at you from where he sat with his friends, Ned and MJ, but you found yourself leaving the cafeteria rather than joining him. You weren't ready to take that next step yet; being open with Peter was hard enough, and you weren't ready to have to talk to two more people. Still, you tried to pretend it didn't bother you despite the little sinking feeling you felt in your stomach.

He still sat with you in Speech class, which you were relieved by. Ms. Lovell left everyone to work with their partners on their project, warning the class sternly, "You may have until the end of the semester, but don't slack off now. I'm only giving you two other class periods after now to work on this."

Peter quietly joked, "I bet she just forgot to grade our homework from last week."

When the woman sat down at her desk and pulled over a stack of papers, uncapping her favorite red-glitter pen that she always graded with, you both fell into a fit of giggles that you had to work very hard to keep quiet. It only took one glare from the teacher to have you ducking behind your book to hide how red your face turned, both from embarrassment and repressed laughter. You did, however, notice to fleeting expression of shock on her face to see it was you giggling in her class.

Not much work was done during that class, though for you and Peter the work couldn't be started yet. You still hadn't decided on a stance, and until Peter either succeeded with his plan or failed as you expected, a decision wouldn't be made. Instead, you both whispered to each other about whatever random thoughts seemed to pop into your heads in the moment.

"People are staring at me," you acknowledged, glancing around the class timidly at the sight of many students giving you curious stares, "is there something on my face?"

Peter laughed, though he quickly disguised it as a cough, and responded, "No, they're just confused."

Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the boy with the warm brown eyes who was grinning at you proudly. "Why?" you asked, shifting uncomfortably. You were used to people giving you strange looks, but these were different. They weren't looking at you as if they were pitying you, or as if they were waiting for you to finally break down and go crazy. No, now they were looking to you with wonder and interest.

He bit the inside of his cheek, a pensive expression blossoming over his face as he thought of how to say whatever he planned to tell you. For a moment you admired the way his ruffled eyebrows furrowed, his lips pouting slightly as he pursed them in concentration. Only when the strange, old fluttering in your heart and your stomach started to erupt did you look away and wrinkle your nose.

You didn't want to admit it, but you knew exactly what that feeling was. It was a feeling you hadn't encountered since before the incident, and it was a feeling you didn't want to experience now. So, you told yourself it was just nerves over having a friend again, and squashed the stupid butterflies down as hard and as fast as you could.

"Well," Peter finally started, eyes wide and a little nervous as if he expected you to potentially be offended by his words, "you haven't exactly... talked to anyone in awhile."

Suddenly, it clicked. People were staring because you weren't the reclusive, closed-off, depressed girl you had been for the past thirteen months. They were staring because you seemed... happy. "Oh." you nodded, the sound feeble and slightly broken, "I guess that makes sense."

People were staring at you because you were the girl with the dead sister who they'd been waiting to witness implode, and suddenly you were talking, and laughing, and smiling. You were talking, laughing, and smiling with Peter Parker, no less. They were looking at you because you seemed fine.

Were you fine? Peter shot you a few concerned glances as you seemed to slip back into the repression you'd been living in for so long, but you gave him a small smile as if to say, "I'm okay." You were okay.

For the first time since she died, now that you really thought about it, you truly felt okay. You felt good. You felt happy. Sure, you were terrified of the little flutters you felt whenever you stared a little too long at Peter's face, and you still felt all the bad things you'd been feeling, but now you had good things to balance them out.

It would have been so easy to slip back into that cycle of beating yourself up again. That little voice in the back of your head was still there, the one that sounded like your sister but so different at the same time, that told you that you didn't deserve to have friends. You didn't deserve to make new friends, or feel those butterflies that meant something more, not when she couldn't do those things ever again.

It would have been easy, but you didn't want that for yourself anymore. If you did that, if you pushed Peter away because of her, then you would be left with all the bad feelings and more of them. You didn't deserve that. So, you took a deep breath, and gave a more genuine smile, and met the stares head on. She would have wanted you to be happy, and you deserved to be happy.

After school, Peter left you with a swimming mind and a million thoughts of what his plan could be. He didn't mention anything, and you wondered how long you would have to wait for whatever it was to come to fruition. What could it be?

You spent the afternoon in the family room, an action that seemed to startle and befuddle your parents who watched you like hawks. Though they didn't say anything, only greeting you casually as if everything were totally normal, you could practically hear the gears turning in their heads. You could imagine their thoughts of, "Who is this alien that looks like our child?"

As confused as they were, eventually the decided to just go with it. Your mom curled up on the sofa with you, and your father fell into his recliner just like old times, and the three of you watched a movie in a comfortable silence. Well, mostly comfortable. Nobody dared to look at or acknowledge the empty middle cushion on the sofa where she'd always sat, or your mother's empty lap that she mindlessly kept brushing her hands over as if waiting for your sister's head to be laying there waiting for her hair to be played with.

Nobody dared, until you did. You weren't entirely sure what compelled you to do it. It seemed as if you were urged to do lots of things you thought you never would these days. But, after half an hour of watching your mother's twitching hands, you laid your head on her lap and closed your eyes to avoid seeing her face.

After a moment, her fingers brushed through your wind-tangled hair and you felt peace. She had always been the one to do this. She had always been the one to burrow her way into your mother's lap, begging to have her scalp massaged or her back traced delicately, and now you understood why. It was comforting for more than one reason.

On one hand, it was just physically relaxing. But, on a more complex level, it gave you a sense of closeness you hadn't realized you'd been longing for. You felt closer with your mother who worked through the tangles in your hair with her fingers, gently scratching your scalp with her manicured fingernails. You felt closer with your sister, too. It felt as if you had a small piece of her to hold onto in that moment, and it was comforting.

By the time the movie ended, you were nearly asleep and the sun had set some time ago. Your mother was the first to break the silence, softly rousing you, "(Y/N), honey, do you want dinner?"

You did, but before you could answer, your phone rang loudly. Glancing at the screen and seeing it was Peter, you nibbled your lip to hide a smile and stated, "Yeah, I'll be down in a minute." They didn't protest as you raced up to your bedroom to answer the call.

"Hello?"

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Peter practically shouted, though his voice cut out with what sounded like a windstorm. "Can you hear me?"

For a moment the audio cut out and you wondered if the call dropped, but then the crackling wind returned and you questioned, "What are you doing?"

Abruptly the sound ended, and he was breathing a little heavily as he responded, "Sorry, I was swinging--"

"Peter! Are you really on your phone while doing that?"

He laughed, "Calm down! My suit, well, Karen, the AI in my suit, is connected to my phone. Completely hands free--I promise."

Your mind flashed back to that night on the roof, the night he'd stopped you, and you remembered how he'd asked a woman named Karen what he was supposed to do. Now it all made sense. You'd been a little curious about who Karen was ever since that night, and now that you knew it was some sort of artificial intelligence that Peter had given such a human name to, you had to laugh.

"Why are you calling me, Spiderman?" you joked.

There was some quiet rustling, as if he were moving around, and he spoke quieter, "I'm on patrol. I just--maybe this is stupid, but I just thought if maybe I could show you the good things I do you'd see that we don't just destroy stuff."

It went silent for a moment before he continued, "I can't exactly take you with me, because that would be stupid, but you could listen."

You hesitated in responding. A part of you wanted to tell him that it was a stupid idea, for multiple reasons, but you decided against it. How would he ever prove anything to you if you didn't give him the chance?

So, you swallowed your protests, and said, "Okay."

"I'll warn you now it's usually pretty boring. A lot of nights I just swing around for awhile and go home without seeing anyone or anything."

That was strangely relieving. You hoped that tonight would be one of those nights; not because you didn't want him to have the chance to really enact his plan, but because you worried for him. What if having you metaphorically there with him distracted him? What if you distracted him and caused him to get hurt?

For awhile, it was a boring night. You and Peter went back and forth, taking turns telling stupid jokes to see who would crack and laugh first, and inevitably he won. He had an endless supply of disgustingly cheesy science puns that left you in stitches every time, even if you'd already seen the joke before on one of his many t-shirts.

You got him to laugh too, though, with all of the dead-pan anti-jokes you may have been secretly googling as you told them. Sometimes the wind would return, alerting you that he was swinging around the city, and every now and then he'd almost forget you were listening as he gave little exclamations of exhilaration in the moment. It was cute, even if the shouts nearly blew out your ear drum every time.

It was a boring night, until it wasn't. One moment the wind was making your phone speaker cut out, and the next it was eerily quiet and you had to pull your phone away to see if the call had dropped. Putting the device on speaker phone, you questioned quietly, "Peter?"

"I'm still here," he whispered, "I see something. Be quiet for a minute."

You listened and waited with baited breathe, probably panicking more than enough for the both of you, as Peter started speaking to Karen. He asked her to start something he called enhanced reconnaissance mode, and you were bursting with suspense and curiosity. What did he see? What was happening?

It felt like an eternity before he acknowledged you again, "Okay, I see a woman cornered by some guys. I think they're trying to... to attack her."

He didn't have to say the word for you to know what he meant, and you felt your stomach explode with anxiety and fear for a woman you couldn't even see. "What are you going to do?" you asked.

"I'm gonna web 'em up, and wait for the police with her." he stated, "I won't be able to talk for a bit, okay?"

And then, everything changed. One moment the wind was back as he swung down to the scene, and suddenly Peter was in full Spiderman mode and almost unrecognizable to you. He was sassier, playful even, despite how serious you knew he really was as he antagonized the bad guys.

The banter didn't last long. You heard the woman scream in terror as a loud ruckus rang through your phone, and Peter groaned. Was he hurt? Did he get hit? There were more thuds and dull smacking sounds, Peter and the men alike grunting and shouting out loudly as she continued to break the atmosphere with her screaming.

You wanted to call out for him, to make sure he was okay, but you were paralyzed in fear. What if you called his name and it distracted him, causing him to really get hurt? But, what if he already was hurt and forgot you were there to potentially call for help?

The fight lasted awhile, before finally the woman's screaming ceased as Peter told her, "Hey, hey! I got them, I got you. It's okay. Everything's okay."

"Peter?" you whispered.

"Everything's okay. It's going to be alright."

He was speaking to you, though he had to phrase it in a way that it sounded as if he were just speaking to her. You didn't believe him that everything was fine, though. It was easy to hear just how winded he was in the way his voice was strained, weaker than before.

Peter was hurt, and you were terrified. His plan was just as stupid as you'd thought it to be. Not because he didn't prove anything to you, because you were happy he'd saved the woman and he had shown you a good thing he did, but because he'd forced you to witness his pain and suffering yet again. You'd had to witness him actually get hurt this time, and the woman's screams still echoed in your ears.

It brought you back to that day. Her screams reminded you of the chaos following the building's collapse, reminded you of how hoarse and sore your throat had been from screaming just like that. Screams of pure horror and panic.

Only after the police finally left, thanking Spiderman for his help, did Peter drop the faux strength and softly whimper, "Shit, that really hurt."

"My window is open."

With that, you hung up and left him to decide what to do by himself.

Your mother quietly knocked at your door, opening it slowly as she poked her head into your room, "Dinner is done if you still want to eat."

Forcing the best smile you could manage, you muttered, "I'm actually not feeling very good. I think I'll just go to bed." You wished you could say you hadn't seen the disappointment written all over her face, clearly let down by you pulling away again, but she nodded nonetheless and shut the door as she trudged away again.

You laid in bed for hours unable to fall asleep, listening to every noise outside with hitched breathe. Was that little knock Peter? Was he at your window? By the time your phone told you it was nearing sunrise, you gave up. He wasn't coming, and you tried to ignore all the horrible thoughts that consumed you.

What if he was so injured he couldn't make it to you? What if he was out on the street somewhere, hurt badly and in need of help? You cursed yourself for hanging up, but you couldn't bring yourself to call him back. It was a strange battle of worry and anger, with anger winning out in the end and stopping you from reaching out.

You were angry at Peter for his stupid plan, causing you to think of all the awful things he seemed to keep at bay during the daytime. You were angry at those men for hurting him. Mostly, you were angry at yourself for being so stubborn. Why were you being prideful and letting the anger stop you from making sure he was alright?

You: are you alive

Peter Parker: yes

Peter Parker: go to sleep

Peter Parker: see you tomorrow?

You: yes. good night.

SERIES TAGLIST {ask to be added}:

@msmimimerton @zendayasfwb @sweet-symphony

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makbarnes · 3 years ago

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Chapter 4

It had been two weeks since seeing Loki at the mall and your mind was going nuts. Who was he there with? Is he with another girl? And in the clothes I bought him!?

“Boo!” Bucky kissed the crook of your neck, snaking his arms around your waist as you jumped a little at the sound of his voice.

“Hi.” You leaned your head back and puckered your lips at him. Bucky pressed a soft kiss to her lips. He had been coming over more and more since he slept over that night. You had persuaded him to stay over a couple nights and actually got him to sleep in your bed with you. He even tucked Tatum in a few times and it was adorable. Bucky had planted himself behind you with his arms around you. Stopping what you were working on, you turned around to face him. He picked you up on the counter and gripped your face. Pushing his lips into your own passionately, you gripped his hips and pulled him close to you. His metal hand was under your thigh, while your hand was messing with the back of his hair. Your lips were burning from the pressure Bucky was putting on your lips, not to mention the constant nipping he kept doing to your bottom lip. Your arm was around his neck and you licked his lips before letting his tongue go into your mouth. Letting him take control over the makeout you moaned quietly into his mouth, feeling his hands move up your outer thigh. Pushing his wrist back down your thigh he moved his hand up behind your neck, pulling you in deeper. Your legs wrapped around his and you moved closer to the edge of the counter. Hearing Tatum cry lightly in her room you pulled away from Bucky and took a breath.

“Tatum’s awake.” Bucky pulled you off of the counter, and held up in his arms. Dipping you down in his arms he planted one last kiss on you before setting you down on the ground. Tapping your lower back you went off in the direction of Tatum’s room. Picking her up from her bed she was clutching her new bear and wiped her eyes. Petting her hair down you carried her into the main room where Bucky was leaning against a wall.

“There’s my little sunshine.” Bucky chimed and held his hands out for Tatum. You placed her gently in his arms and she positioned herself. You continued with cutting up some fruit for Tatum’s breakfast. Bucky bobbed her on his hip and you adjusted the fruit on her chair, pouring some apple juice into her green sippy cup you set that down next to it. Tatum wiped her eyes again, and yawned before opening her eyes. You gripped your hands toward her and got her from Bucky’s arms, Sitting her down in the chair you grabbed her bear from her and she cried a little.

“Okay, Shh. Here.” You gave Tatum her bear back and she hugged it tightly. Sitting it down next to her.

“Eat Baby.” You tapped the edge of the chair and stood in front of her. Tatum yawned again while she picked up a small apple slice and bit into it. A few moments later you heard a ding from the coffee machine and got down two mugs from the cabinet. Pouring the coffee into the mugs you handed one over to Bucky and he took a few sips from it. You smiled at Tatum who was waking up more now. You sat your mug down on the counter and rushed off into your room. You heard your phone ringing and quickly picked it up.

“Hello?” Listening to the other person on the line your mind went into a panic.

“Wait What? No he can’t confess, Who offered him a deal? The evidence is all wrong! It wouldn’t hold up in court.” You hung up the phone and lightly hit the wall, Bucky looked up from his cup. His blue eyes gleaming from the red color reflecting them.

“The client I’m representing got offered a deal by the prosecutors and I already told them that the evidence won’t hold up against him in court and I have nobody to babysit Tatum.” Bucky sat down his mug and approached you.

“Hey, you go get ready and I can watch Tatum either here or at my place.” Bucky kissed your forehead and you sighed. Going off to your room you pulled out one of your daily suits. Getting ready you pulled your hair back and pinned it with a brown clip. Packing up your things you grabbed your car keys from the counter and sat everything down on the counter. Kneeling down at Tatum you brushed some hair away from your face.

“Okay sweetheart you are gonna stay here with Bucky just for a little bit while Mommy goes to work.” Kissing her forehead you smiled at her.

“Tatum? Is that okay?”

“Okay.” Tatum stated before chewing on her apple slice. You nodded your head and gathered your things in your arms, checked around making sure everything was with you. Bucky led you to the front door and kissed the back of your head goodbye. Shutting the door behind you, you dashed down the hall and into the elevator going off to help an innocent man. Bucky turned back to Tatum and smiled.

“Alrighty Doll, Just you and me.” Bucky fluffed her hair and she held up her bear to him.

“Meet Bucksie.” Bucky took the bear and smiled, handing it back to her.

“She is very pretty. Just like you.” Bucky tapped her nose, making her giggle a little. Bucky finished off his coffee while he let Tatum finish her mixture of fruit you had given her this morning. Tatum gripped her hands towards Bucky and he picked her up out of the chair setting her down on the floor next to him. Grabbing the plate and the cup he put them in the sink before heading over to the couch. Sitting down He picked up Tatum and set her on his lap.

“So what does your mommy usually do with you during these days?”

“Little Mermaid!” Bucky smiled and he glanced over at the collection of movies you had on a little case by the TV. Seeing the DVD Bucky moved Tatum and put in the disc, Sitting back down where he was, Tatum climbed back onto his lap while he pressed play. As the opening credits played Tatum messed with a button on Bucksie’s little jacket and Bucky set the remote back down on the table.

“So why did you name her Bucksie?”

“Because we want you to be my new Daddy...cause I’ve never had a real Daddy before.” Tatum took hold of Bucky’s hand and cuddled into his chest.

“You will have to ask your mommy about that.” Bucky felt his heart ache. He would be happy to be Tatum’s dad but sadly it wasn’t his choice.

“You are her prince, and she is your princess. What could go wrong?”

“I think you are my princess and she is my queen. That way you can find true love too.”

“But I already love you and Mommy” Bucky had nothing to say to Tatum’s response to him. He ignored the movie and all he could think about was living with you and spending the rest of his life with you and Tatum.

Meanwhile,You had gotten to a conclusion with the prosecutors and had a small meeting with your client. After leaving the courthouse you headed back to your car before a scent caught your attention. Noticing it was coming from a bakery nearby you crept into the place and looked at everyone around. Noticing some familiar blonde hair that was reading a paper you went over to her. Your best friend Felicity was sitting there reading a newspaper while sipping on some tea.

She was the one that texted you yesterday regarding the deal at Build a bear.

“Hey there, Stranger.” Felicity sat down her paper and adjusted her glasses while smiling at you.

“Hey. Where’s Tatum?”

“Oh she is staying with Bucky.”

“You know James Buchanan Barnes?”

“He is kind of my boyfriend.” Your friend looked shocked at the news.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Well I was going to wait around at Build-A-Bear to break the news to you but I got out of there as quickly as possible...I saw Loki there yesterday.”

“You..did? Uhm, was he with anyone?” Your friend instantly turned nervous and you looked at her suspiciously.

“Did you know who he is with?”

“{Y/N}, I think we should go outside.” Felicity stood up and you followed her outside. Her hands were shaking a little, and you grabbed her wrists.

“Sweetie, just tell me.” Felicity took in a deep breath and stood tall.

“Loki was there to see me yesterday...we have been dating for seven months and it’s getting pretty serious.” You felt your fists clenched, and you gritted your teeth at her.

“SEVEN MONTHS!? He has been on earth that long you didn’t even mention it to me?”

“He was working through things and stayed at my place mostly.” You relaxed still feeling rage build inside of you.

“Did you tell him anything about Tatum?”

“Yes, He kept asking so I told him all I knew. But yesterday when I got home from work he was in a ball and crying. After seeing you and Tatum yesterday it was too much.You have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Yeah well he should be crying about it. Where the fuck does he get off in leaving me then going after my best friend?!” Felicity moved some of her hair away from her face and touched your arm which made you jerk away from her.

“Loki has changed, He is depressed about how he left things with you and he wants Tatum to know who he is.”

“He has no damn right for that! Leaving me for years then wanting to see his daughter that he left without a father, not to mention the heartbreak I went through. No! He is not getting near her.” Before Felicity could reply, you grabbed your keys from your purse and headed for your car and felt her grab your arm.

“Wait, please don’t be mad. I can explain, just not right at this moment.”

“No, I have to get home and see Tatum.” Flaming mad you got into your car and sped away from Felicity. Heading back home you felt your heart racing as you neared the apartments. Bucky heard you outside and paused the TV before getting up. Passing Tatum on her playmat he opened the door to see you pissed off as ever. Stepping out a bit, he took your hand and felt it shaking.

“My best friend is dating Loki…” “Who?”

“Felicity, I ran into her and she told me about Loki and why I saw him at the mall the other day.” You pushed past Bucky and went into the apartment seeing Tatum stand up.

“{Y/N}, Just calm down.”

“I can’t calm down Bucky, My best friend since eighth grade is dating the guy who broke my heart. She has been keeping it from me for seven months!” Your voice cracked a little not being used to yelling this much. Tatum covered her ears and sat down, being a little scared.

“She has a good reason.”

“He probably has her knocked up by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is already pregnant and hiding it from me.” Bucky looked over at Tatum who was watching this all unfold and winked at her in an attempt to let her know everything was okay.

“Baby, stop shouting.”

“How can you be this calm?! LOKI IS HERE! ON EARTH! He could come hurt me or Tatum for that matter.” Stopping you looked over at Tatum and she had a few tears down her face, leading to a blue spot on her cheek. Your face went calm and quiet while you walked over to her.

“Please don’t tell at Bucky, Mommy!”

“Baby, I’m not mad at him. Just things that you can’t understand right now.” You brushed over the blue spot on her face and glanced over at Bucky.

“What did she get into? She didn’t have that when you got here.” You stood up and pushed back your hair.

“No, no, no… I was hoping she didn’t get that trait…”

“What trait?” SIghing you stepped away from Tatum.

“Okay Loki was part, just part frost giant and he always turned blue when he got really angry or upset and I was hoping she didn’t get that but she did apparently.” Kneeling back down to Tatum you kissed her head.

“Tatum, calm down. Please.” Bucky came over to her and kneeled down to her.

“Doll, Mommy and Daddy aren’t fighting. I promise.”

“Okay…” You grabbed Tatum from the floor and walked her to her room. Settling her down for a nap you walked back into the main room where Bucky was waiting. Letting your hair down you ran your fingers through it, fluffing it out.

“I have a question for you. When did we get married?”

“It just slipped out. I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine but just take it a little slow. It’s only been four weeks.” Bucky pulled you close to him and you rested your head on his chest.

“Tatum called me your prince today.”

“Tatum doesn’t have a dad and she latched onto you. Which I am proud of, you are a perfect example.”

“Well I will always be here. For you and her.” BUcky rested his lips on your head before swaying you slowly.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, my dear.”

NEXT CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Soulmarks, Part 21

First part

~~~

Mme. Bustier gave a sigh when the three dropped their documents on the desk in unison, but this was nothing compared to the shock that came with Marinette’s words:

“We’re transferring.”

“But… but you’ve only been students here for two days!” She said, flipping through the papers with wide eyes. “And you didn’t even come for the second!”

Marinette gave a tiny shrug and glanced at Tim, who waved a stack of papers.

“You can try and keep us, if you’d like, but we have record of over a year’s worth of bullying complaints where no action was taken. Of course, you can still contest us if you’d like to deal with Mr. Wayne and Mr. Agreste’s lawyers…”

The woman’s kind face drained of color.

“I’ll… I’ll sign this right away. I hope you enjoy your time at…” She looked at the papers. “Gotham Academy.”

Marinette sent her friends grins.

“I think we will. Thank you.”

The superheroes had never felt more anxious in their lives. Their food remained untouched in front of them... outside of Kagami, who was slowly eating her beignet fries.

Or, at least, she had been. Now she was looking at them all with wide eyes.

“Let me get this straight…” Said Kagami. “You --.” She pointed her fry at Adrien. “-- are Chat Noir. And you never told me to keep me safe, despite having no problem with giving me a miraculous on occasion.”

Adrien pursed his lips and looked at Marinette imploringly. She didn’t seem to be enjoying being the only one to speak. Her hand gripped Tim’s arm so tightly that he swore she was going to draw blood.

Damn, Tim could have so easily been left out of this. He didn’t know Kagami outside of what Adrien had said about his soulmate, he’d had every excuse to not come. But then Marinette had given him puppy-dog eyes and he was weak, okay?

Marinette coughed uncomfortably. “To be fair, Adrien was the one who didn’t want to tell you.”

Adrien choked. He glared daggers at his partner, only to stop and give his girlfriend the world’s most innocent smile. He carefully brought his hands up and made a heart with his fingers.

Kagami didn’t seem amused, taking a bite of the fry and turning back to Marinette slowly.

The girl did not seem to like this development, if the tightening of her grip on his arm was any indication.

“Anyway, because his dad is Hawkmoth, we’re relocating him. We have to tell the public who Hawkmoth was, because Gabriel was too important to just have him disappear, and we don’t want him to be attacked.”

Kagami took a sip of Adrien’s drink. The model huffed a little but let her have it.

“And you’re telling me in case I want to go with him?”

“Yep. We don’t even have to tell your mom where you’re going. I can go in as Ladybug and tell her I’m relocating you for safety reasons and we can take you.”

She nodded thoughtfully, then gave a shrug. “Sure. Sounds good. Where to?”

The heroes breathed for the first time that night.

The press. God, she hated the press. And she hated it even more now that they were screaming ‘Marinette’ instead of ‘Ladybug’.

But she had to do this.

Marinette fought the urge to mess with her yoyo as she stepped to the podium with Adrien at her side.

He still couldn’t speak but she’d still wanted him to come onstage with her.

She smiled faintly. “Hello, Paris, we have come to make some announcements.”

“First of all, Hawkmoth has been defeated.” She paused for the cheering and applause. “The authorities have given me clearance to share this with you: his civilian identity was Gabriel Agreste.”

The gasps were soon replaced by murmuring and she had to drum her finger on the microphone a few times to get their attention back.

“That being said, please do not attack Adrien Agreste. I did extensive research and observation, and I found that he did not know and was not involved in any way. However, just to be safe, I have decided to take him out of France. During my time in America, I found a suitable person to look after him.”

“Secondly…” She took a deep breath and looked at Adrien, who gave her an encouraging smile. “... we are resigning as protectors of Paris.”

The silence that followed that was deafening. She hugged herself.

“Hawkmoth has been defeated, we are no longer needed here… and it is no longer safe for my family, as the world knows my identity. We will also be relocating to America, but I implore you to respect our privacy.”

“As for Chat, he wishes to remain anonymous so he can continue hero work where he is needed. I hope you can respect that, too.”

“You won’t be left unprotected, of course. The Peacock miraculous is still lost and, though we doubt it is here, Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Queen Bee have all elected to remain in Paris in case it shows up.”

She swallowed thickly and looked out over the sea of people.

“Thank you.”

He flipped through a book on ASL, spinning in his swivel chair absently as he read.

Gotham was quiet at the moment, anyways. The most interesting thing he’d seen on the cameras all night had been Dick accepting a plate of cookies from a stranger.

His phone beeped to indicate his shift was almost over.

On cue, Marinette came in with two cups of coffee.

He smiled faintly as she took her seat, then she pushed her swivel chair over until it knocked against his a tiny bit. She read over his shoulder, sipping at her drink and occasionally bringing his to his lips so he could continue to hold the book for them.

He tugged at the collar of his turtleneck with an annoyed sigh. Honestly, he wished they’d come up with a different cover story for why Tim could no longer speak, because wearing sweaters all the time was quickly getting annoying. ‘Rich kid had taken a blow to his windpipe and could no longer speak’ wasn’t all that unlikely in Gotham, it was hard to beat, so now he had to wear turtlenecks all the time or spend time in the morning putting a fake scar over his neck.

(And, well, Tim had never been one to put much effort into his appearance when he could be doing something more productive.)

Thankfully, no one else had needed a cover. They were a bunch of French kids, no one would be surprised to hear that they had opted not to learn two languages at once. It would have been hard to come up with similar yet different accidents for all of them, and definitely a little suspicious.

Marinette pulled his hand away from his collar and pressed a kiss to it before lacing her fingers with his. “I think you look cute.”

He smiled.

His phone beeped and he quickly fumbled to silence it, because he’d barely done anything that night and he didn’t want to have to stop already, but from the way she set her jaw he knew that she wasn’t going to let him do that.

He set the book on his lap and signed: “Can I at least stay with you?”

Marinette blushed and nodded. He smiled at the tiny victory.

She pressed a hand to her comm. “Right, I’m here, now. Ryuuko, Chaton, report.”

“We found some really good hotdogs on eighth,” said Kagami.

“That’s…” She laughed. “Good for you. Bring me one in the morning.”

“I’m glad you’re getting some sort of nutrition, but get back to work,” said Bruce.

Kagami and Adrien groaned and she could hear them pick up speed.

“Batman, report.”

“No new information on the Two-Face situation.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Nightwing, Batgirl, report.”

“A civilian gave us cookies,” said Dick brightly.

“Are they poisoned?”

“We’ll find out soon,” said Barbara with a tiny sigh. “Nightwing already ate one.”

“Nightwing!”

Dick murmured something that the comms couldn’t catch, likely some version of ‘traitor!’, and then attempted to defend himself: “The lady gave them to me directly! It would have been rude not to eat one!”

She rolled her eyes. “Great. Take the cookies to Alfred to inspect and then take Nightwing to medbay just in case.”

“Gotcha.”

Tim smiled, watching her flip through their views to make sure they were all safe.

He had never really intended the man-in-the-chair thing to become his permanent form of vigilantism, had always thought he would go back to being Robin at some point, but he was glad that he hadn’t.

After all, it was less stressful and unlikely to get them hurt.

And he knew that Marinette liked the new job, too, if the tiny computer over his heart was any indication.

He felt her rest her head on his shoulder again, apparently appeased by what she had seen, and he wrapped his arm around her.

They listened to a police scanner and relaxed, together.

~~~

I need to stop writing finales at 3am --

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna @fusser90 @indecisive-mess-named-me @rosesgonerogue @celestialsiren @bluesimani @loysydark @trippingovermyfeet @goblinwhoships @kaithehero

#soulmarks #timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin #tim drake #maribat #adribat

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helaintoloki · 4 years ago

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hiii so i saw your holiday prompt list and i loved how wholesome it is?? how is that legal. but anyway, i was wondering if you could perhaps do n. 12 with peter parker 🥺👉👈 hope you’re doing well & staying safe!

a/n: ngl I got really excited when I saw this request in my inbox bc it’s been so long since I’ve last written for Peter! anyway I hope you enjoy lovely ♡

warnings: some awkwardness, fluff

* #12: wrapping gifts together // taken from this prompt list

Endless yards of wrapping paper and colorful bows litter the floor in a manner that makes Peter feel as if he has to walk through some maze-like obstacle course just to reach the plate of gingerbread cookies on the coffee table. In the center of all the holiday clutter and chaos you sit, diligently removing the price tags and labels from your gifts before setting them aside to be packaged and wrapped when you’re ready. Your brows are creased with concentration, and if not for the fact that Peter had nearly ate it when his foot got caught in the wrapping you never would have detected his presence.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You exclaim, your attention now focused on Peter who grips a little too tightly onto the arm of the couch for support. An embarrassed laugh leaves his lips as he steadies himself before carefully walking the rest of the way to sit down beside you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Good reflexes, you know?” He says with a small shrug, hoping you don’t notice the intense indents he’s made in the fabric of the couch. Luckily, you don’t, and you even let out a small laugh at his antics before returning your attention to your previous task.

“Thanks again for letting me wrap gifts here. It’s just been so crazy back at home and I wouldn’t have been able to get anything done,” you ramble with a flustered smile, one that Peter is quick to return.

“Yeah, no, it’s no problem. No problem at all,” he says nonchalantly, though the rapid beating of his heart says otherwise. “Happy to help.”

“And you’re sure May doesn’t mind?”

“Are you kidding? You know May loves you.” And also won’t stop bugging me about mustering up the courage to finally ask you out, so here we are. “You’re always welcome over.”

“I appreciate that,” you murmur quietly, a soft glimmer in your eyes that Peter can’t quite decipher no matter how many times he tries. Your ability to be so vulnerable and open while simultaneously keeping your cards close to your chest mystified him to no end, and the fact that he could never quite read you properly always left him feeling anxious and unsure of himself. He liked you, really liked you, but he had no idea of knowing whether or not you felt the same.

You’d been friends with Peter since eighth grade; as the new girl at school with no one to sit with at lunch, you’d chosen to befriend the boy with the Star Wars lunch box and Iron Man pencil case. He was quiet but friendly enough, and in no time at all you became two peas in a pod. You did everything together, told each other everything— well, almost everything— and helped each other through various heartaches and heartbreaks. Peter was your best friend, and you were his (you were tied with Ned in first place, but that’s not the point) which is why his newfound feelings for you freaked him out so much. There was a lot at stake when it came to his predicament; he didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship, but he also couldn’t afford the distraction. After the events of the blip Peter found that he had to work harder than ever now when it came to his superhero duties, and he didn’t want to make you feel neglected or unimportant. He also didn’t want to put you in danger, something that was bound to happen if you two began a relationship.

Ned had argued that at this point you were already in danger anyway; your best friend was Spider-Man and you didn’t even know it, so being the girlfriend of Peter Parker wouldn’t make things any different. Admittedly, this revelation did not make Peter feel any better, but he knew his friend had a point. The only problem now was figuring out how to tell you, and then how to pick up the pieces of his broken heart if you were to turn him down. Peter was definitely no Casanova, but he figured taking baby steps would help him get there, and so here you are sitting on his living room floor wrapping presents together and munching on May’s specialty gingerbread cookies.

“I can’t wait to see the look on Betty’s face when she opens her gift,” you say with a giddy smile as you begin to wrap her present. Peter watches carefully as your skillful fingers fold and tape the corners of the wrapping paper together before neatly placing a bow on top. There’s something about the way your eyes seem to sparkle with glee as you write Betty’s name on the gift tag before carefully setting it aside for later. If he could do so without looking like a total creep, Peter would stare at you for hours. He could get lost in your eyes, feel his heart swoon whenever you smiled, and enjoy the tiny boost to his ego you gave him when wearing the Spider-Man themed Christmas sweater your mom had gifted you a while back.

“Is there any chance I’ll get to see my present today?” Peter asks innocently, laughing at the suspicious glare you shoot his way.

“Fat chance, Parker. I was smart enough to wrap yours at home before I came here,” you jest with a teasing smile.

“Come on, not even a little hint?” He begs, making sure to put on his best pout.

“Hey mister, maybe that look works on May but it does not work on me,” you chide only to burst into a fit of giggles. Peter lets out a dramatic sigh, a dejected smile forming across his lips.

“It was worth a try.”

“Don’t worry, I promise you’ll love your gift,” you reassure him. “And if you don’t, well, just pretend to like it to spare my feelings.”

“No, I’m sure I’ll like it,” he chuckles, handing you the scissors at your signaling and watching you get to work on the next gift. He can’t help but shift his gaze towards his own messily wrapped presents sitting underneath the tree; he didn’t have as many friends as you did, so he could spare to ditch his usually frugal spending habits and buy nicer gifts for the ones he loved. A bottle of that high-end perfume May always gushed about yet never bought for herself, a nice hat for Ned to make up for the time at Liz’s party, and finally the most expensive gift of all, a Tiffany and Co. bracelet that he’d be spending the next few months paying off with what little money he could scrounge up.

Odd jobs, extra chore money, and painful goodbyes resulting from the sales of some of his favorite collectibles allowed for the purchase of the jewelry. Time and time again you’d told Peter not to worry about birthday presents or holiday gifts; a simple card or something homemade was good enough for you, but this year Peter knew he had to go big if he was to finally seal the deal. You weren’t just any other girl, you were his best friend and he fell in love with you, so when he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out on Christmas Eve just like he’d been planning to all month he knew had to make sure it was special.

“Peter,” you call out gently, redirecting his attention away from the presents and towards your puzzled features, “you alright there, buddy? You spaced out on me again.”

“Oh, y-yeah, sorry,” he apologizes quickly, shaking away his previous thoughts and doing his best to remain calm and collected despite how fast his heart is racing at the possibility of finally being able to call himself your boyfriend by Christmas time. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying I finished wrapping.”

“Whoa, wait, that fast?” He exclaims astonished.

“That fast,” you confirm with a nod, grabbing a stray bow from the coffee table as you rise from the floor and stretch out your stiff limbs. An amused chuckle falls past Peter’s lips as you attach the bow to the top of his head before extending your hand towards him. “I’m hungry, let’s go get food.”

“So demanding,” he teases, taking your hand and hoisting himself up off the ground.

“Oh, I’m sorry. May we please obtain sustenance, my dear friend?” You retort sarcastically only for Peter to roll his eyes and playfully nudge your side in response.

“Very funny,” he laughs dryly, though the corners of his eyes crinkle with delight at your teasing manner. He sighs, “alright, let’s go get you something to eat.”

“You see, this is why we’re best friends.”

“Yeah,” Peter utters with a quiet smile, his gaze once again settling on the poorly wrapped little box underneath the Christmas tree, “best friends...”

Christmas Eve can’t come soon enough.

#mel’s holiday prompt list #ngl i missed writing for my baby boy :’)#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #peter #peter x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #marvel #mcu #request

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akechi-gf · 4 years ago

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Analyzing the state of Akechi's health via the color of his pee (among other inferences)

The only canonical instance we have of seeing Akechi pee is in episode 22, where a 7-year old him of the past pees his pants in order to fend off bullies. Another notable mention is in episode 6 of Saiki K Reawakened where he is frightened by his calculations of how quick the meteor is falling not matching the official news report, however the pee is not actually seen. (This shows his distrust in authorities and their choices, which is why he felt the need to start his own calculations in the first place. The fact that his calculations didn't match only furthered his distrust to authority figures, which most likely stemmed from the lack of action of his teachers as a child while being bullied, alongside the divorce of his parents. That aside, let me get back on topic.)

Attached here is the photo of Akechi's pee, as well as the general set-up of their classroom. See also a pee color chart provided by an online healthcare site.

Now, when comparing this to a piss chart, at first glance, you would assume that his pee is at the eighth shade, which, yes, I can see. Upon color-swatching the pee puddle, it's most similar. However, keep in mind that the floor is a deep shade of brown, obscuring the true color of Akechi's pee.

I'm not an artist nor am I a piss-connoisseur, however keeping in mind that the shade of the floor would affect the overall image of the puddle, I would say that his pee is actually a kind mix of shades 4-5. This is slightly less dire of a situation when compared to the earlier assumption of 8, however, still concerning.

We're not actually provided a specific time in which the events take place, only an estimate of the year and everyone's age. So, I took the liberty to research a regular Japanese student's elementary school schedule. I found that the school day normally begins at 8;45 AM (which means Akechi would have arrived to his classroom at around 7-00 AM, considering his studious nature) and ends at 3:15 PM. Now, judging from the students' casual language and the fact that none of them (save for Saiki and a few others) were in their seats, we can infer that this was at around their lunch, recess, or dismissal. It's also notable that their seats aren't aligned, instead in a rather messy sort of disarray. While suspicious, we can assume that this is most likely due to them being rowdy children.

I decided to rewatch this particular scene, and noticed that we don't have a clip of the sun in the sky seen through the window. Due to this, we can conclude that this was earlier in the day, seeing as at 12:00 noon and 3:15 in the afternoon, the sun would be smack dab by the middle of the scene. At 7, however, the sun would be higher in the sky, perhaps covered by a few clouds.

To back this up, the quick arrival of their teacher proves that he was getting ready to enter the classroom regardless. Back to the topic of Akechi's shining puddle of piss, we can assume that he matches the shade 4, rather than 5. How did I arrive at this conclusion? Simple.

If Akechi arrived to school within the timeframe 7-8 AM, that means he woke up at 5:00 to 5:30 AM. Keep in mind that he showers, changes, eats breakfast, and walks to school. (We can assume that Akechi walks to school, because of a scene in episode 22 , where a young Saiki corners Kuriko. After questioning Kuriko, Akechi is seen running after Kusuo, saying something along the lines of "Kusuo-kun, wait for me!" This implies that he and Kusuo regularly walk home together. If Akechi (at this time, Asumi's parents couldn't pick Akechi up from school, it's most likely that they didn't drop him off.) Now, the fact that Akechi's pee is at shade 4 is still a subject that shouldn't be forgotten. Regardless of the fact that he walked to school, the scene of him peeing takes place only moments before class starts. Assuming that Akechi did eat breakfast, the fact that his pee wasn't within the shade range 2-3 implies that he didn't drink enough water for someone of his age, height, and weight.

According to BBC food, it's a general rule of thumb that children aged 4-13 should drink at least 6-8 glasses of water a day. Now, one might argue that since only breakfast had passed, Akechi would have only gotten to drink 1-2 glasses. To that, i offer this rebuttal; please keep in mind that the dark shade could mean he hadn't gotten enough water to drink the day prior, either.

Darker piss is not actually ONLY due to dehydration, as it could be a symptom to hepatitis, rhabdomylosis, cirrhosis, glomerulonephritis, biliary obstruction, gallstones, bladder stones, cancer, jaundice, liver disease, malaria, thalassemia, or trauma. However, due to Akechi's over-all healthy appearance as a high school student (and the fact that he neglected to include any mention of that in his introduction in episode 18), it's unlikely that any of these are the case. At the most, it could be a symptom of trauma (Perhaps from the fighting that would have went down with his parents pre-divorce), however dehydration is the likeliest cause.

Not to fret, not all hope is lost. I decided to look into Healthline's article on dark urine backed by urology, and a turbid or cloudier puddle would have meant that Akechi could have had a bacterial infection in his urinary of digestive tract, the cloudiness being caused by an excess production of white blood cells. (Yes, there is a certain science to the study of urine.) Judging from the shinier appearance of the puddle, Akechi avoided any sort of infection. In fact, the shinier puddle shows that Akechi took water soluble vitamins. Shinier and oilier piss isn't something bad, since vitamins that don't completely absorb are emptied into the urine.

Onto my next point: Why does Akechi pee so much? I looked into cases online, and at first, it seemed like a classic case of incontinence in men; an enlarged prostate putting unneeded pressure on one's urethra, forcing one to pee. Perhaps Akechi had that, and couldn't tell. (Overactive bladders and enlarged prostates are normally detected in men as they grow older, younger men aren't often diagnosed, let alone children or high schoolers.) However, I noticed the fact that Akechi never implied that he 'simply couldn't reach the bathroom in time'. As a child, Akechi said that when he lost control of his emotions, more specifically, his anger, he tended to pee.

Now, I tried searching the keywords 'anger leading to pee' and was greeted by a multitude of dog behavioral blogs online. However, my search wasn't fruitless. I continued to search variations of the statement, and eventually, I came to the conclusion that this isn't normal. Psychological stress is related to one's incontinence, yes, but only under intense moments of fear. Akechi was simply peeing on purpose, to push Takashi away. In a way, this behavior is similar to a dog peeing on a rug to anger their owner. This is only solidified by the smug look on Akechi's face as he tells Takashi to "You better let go of me. Look at your shoes."

I would say that this is why we don't see Akechi pee in the episodes where he's featured as a high schooler in PK. (Save for the instance in episode 6 of Reawakened, however, as previously mentioned, psychological stress, specifically fear, can increase chances of incontinence.) He’s matured as a person, and he no longer has anyone bullying him, therefore he no longer feels the need to pee to assert dominance.

TL; DR

Akechi needs to drink more water (and possibly get a therapist and a prostate checkup, just in case).

References;

https://www.healthdirect.gov.au/urine-colour-chart

https://urologyspecialistnc.com/changes-in-urine

https://healthline.com/health/dark-urine#causes

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/stress-incontinence/symptoms-causes/syc-20355727

https://forum.greytalk.com/topic/274807-peeing-in-anger/

https://calmenergydogtraining.com/2012/10/revenge-peeing-fact-or-fiction/

#akechi touma #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki k reawakened #shitpost #akechi #touma #how do u use tumblr....

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

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we poured mud through their veins (part one)

the first installment of an au i am in love with

in which a new member joins the Deetz-Maitland family!

-------------------------------

The sky was the color of the ocean- dark, wild, and swallowing everything in its wake. The only thing that could possibly rival its impenetrable wall of thick black-blue were the occasional cracks of blazing lightning that split the roiling clouds like a hot knife. The storm would be cut in half at the flash of its searing glory, then sewed itself back together like a monstrous, watery wound. The wind was so fierce that it seemed to be sent by an enraged being (in which Delia would helpfully say it was “God” or “angels playing bowling”) to punish Winter River for some unruly sin. Water rushed down the streets like baby rivers, threatening to drag anything and anyone in its way down the asphalt with it. Raindrops battered windows and walls and doors, knocking so viciously like an unwanted guest.

An unwanted guest. That was what this damn storm was. And Lydia was at her wit’s end with this elemental stranger.

Her computer crashed for the third time and she finally slammed the lid close, letting out a miserable groan that was soon challenged by a deep rumble of thunder. She cringed, curling her shoulders in, and then sighed.

“Fuck this storm,” She growled.

“Language,” Barbara said from the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Lydia muttered. “Screw this storm.”

Barbara chuckled lovingly. “Better.” She peered over at the closed laptop. “Everything okay?”

“It keeps crashing,” Lydia said miserably. “And I’m finally not procrastinating on doing my essay!”

“You had an essay due?” Adam looked at Lydia sharply, yanking his head out from the spice cabinet.

Lydia smiled innocently. “Maaaybe,” She said. She noticed the stern expression on Adam’s face. “Hey, I’m doing it! So don’t worry!”

“Hmm,” Adam squinted at her suspiciously. “Seems like you planned this.”

“What? Me? Never!” Lydia said.

Barbara laughed again and then turned back to the pot she was stirring. “What’s your essay on?”

“Well, my English class needed to write something that had to do with society or the ecosystem,” Lydia explained. “So I chose to do mine on why the eighth amendment should be abolished!”

Barbara and Adam blinked at her proud expression.

“Reason?” Adam asked.

“If we don’t have the eighth amendment, then we can torture rapists,” Lydia said confidently.

Barbara and Adam then nodded in agreement.

It had been nine months since the whole incident with the ghosts, and it was honestly some of the best months of Lydia’s entire life. Not only did the Maitlands officially become part of the family, but Beetlejuice stuck around, too, becoming Lydia’s chaotic best friend and older brother figure, at least after being properly “housebroken” as her father would describe it. Waking up each morning always greeted her with new mayhem from one of the otherworldly tenants and more things she could learn about them. It was incredible.

They were a family.

“It’s really coming down out there.”

Lydia looked over her shoulder to see Delia standing at the back door, sipping a steaming cup of her weird herbal tea (which tasted disgusting, by the way).

“It’s what you would call ‘Noah’s Arc’,” Barbara said knowingly. Except her ‘knowledgeable’ comment got a weird look from Lydia and a laugh from Adam and Delia.

“Noah’s Arc was the, well, arc, honey,” Adam said. “Not the storm. But nice try.”

“It’s so foggy,” Delia commented. “The river may flood at this rate.”

Foggy.

Fog.

That word always sparked a memory in Lydia’s mind.

The Netherworld.

Lydia remembered the Netherworld clearly.

The air there had been wet and heavy, like she was breathing in a thick fog that stuck to her throat like tar. There was a certain sticky humidity in that dark place, pressing down on her in heavy waves, as if the very atmosphere itself was trying to crush her skull, punishing her for even plucking up the courage to step foot in the place where the Living didn’t belong. It was cold, yet uncomfortably warm at the same time, with no wind blowing to ease the mild heat that had settled its oppressive, sultry murk over the Dead’s civilization. It spilled into every street, every alleyway, every house that dared to open the window, thinking that it would help with the clamminess that fogged their home, but to no avail.

This, of course, had brought upon complete and utter dreariness that coated every Dead making their rounds through their daily lives. And, in reaction to her presence, the gloom tried to wrap its dark protections of the underworld around her in layers that pressed deeply into her skin, trying to become a part of her. It adorned her until she was nearly suffocated in the thick, moist air.

She did not belong there.

The Netherworld had been filled with enough freaks to make a whole circus- a suicidal beauty pageant queen with slashed open wrists, a failed skydiver in a shredded jumpsuit, a lady swathed in a smoldering towel and had hair crackling hair that hugged a toaster to her chest, a charred man who breathed smoke like a great fire dragon, a very confused football player, a man with a huge cleaver lodged in his skull as a sign of his infidelity, a gravely-injured jockey that spit blood when she talked, some kind of hunter with a shrunken head, and a very excitable victim of explosion, among many more that Lydia hadn’t seen. Not that she was surprised at the amount of strange characters in the underworld.

Aside from the beauty pageant queen, the jockey was the Dead that Lydia got to know the most. Even for the short amount of time she was down in the Netherworld , the jockey seemed to grow attached to her, talking to her animatedly as if they had been friends for years and hanging onto her arm like a baby koala would to its mother. She learned that her name was Presley.

And Lydia had to leave Presley behind.

It wasn’t because she wanted to- she had to! Presley said it herself: the living didn’t belong in the Netherworld. But still, it kinda hurt to leave her new friend behind.

But she got over it. And she moved on. And she got a new family that made her completely forget about the undead horse rider.

Lydia’s memories were then interrupted by a terrible crash of thunder that seemed to rip the entire town in half. The sound rang in all of their ears, even causing Lydia to snap her hands up to cover her own, much to her embarrassment, and making Adam phase straight into the drywall of the kitchen in reaction to the shock, and the sonic boom that followed rocked the house from side-to-side.

As the rumble faded and the lights overhead flickered, there was a heavy thud from upstairs.

From Lydia’s room.

Lydia groaned. “That’ll probably be Beej,” She said. “Messing with my stuff. Again. Probably thought the thunder could cover up the sound of him setting some kind of prank.” She turned her head to yell up the staircase as she stood up. “But not this time!”

She heard Barbara, Adam, and Delia laugh as she walked upstairs.

As quietly as possible, Lydia snuck up the stairs and to her bedroom. Inside, she could hear shuffling and a muttering voice.

Someone was in there.

Wanting to scare Beetlejuice for trying to prank her again, she grasped the doorknob, slowly pushed open the door, and peeked in at the demon in her bedroom.

The light from the lamp that she had left on fed into his white and red suit, soaking into the filthy fabric. He kept looking this way and that, the helmet he was wearing shifting against his head, and-- that was not Beetlejuice.

But Lydia did know this person.

White-and-red checkered shirt, white pants, gloves, black riding boots, a helmet with a crack straight down the middle, a crop holstered to narrow hips, old blood and hoofprints all over…

“Presley?!” Lydia yelped out loud, then quickly shut her mouth. She stepped fully into her room and closed the door behind her. A moment later, the undead jockey was in her arms, clinging to her in a way that felt more like how a drowning woman to cling to the side of a boat than a normal hug between reuniting friends.

Except she didn’t feel undead. She felt warm, solid, real…living.

She was living.

But…that shouldn’t have been possible.

“Presley…” Lydia said slowly. “How are you here?”

Presley looked up at her, the rim of her helmet sliding into her eyes slightly, then glanced all around. When she turned her head back up to Lydia, she seemed equally as confused. There was a stream of dried blood trickling down between her eyes and on one side of her nose. There was another scoring her right temple.

“I don’t-- I don’t know,” Presley whispered, and her voice was hoarse and weak. She then sucked in a sharp breath and coughed. Lydia realized this must have been the first time she had breathed in a long while.

“Well, that’s…confusing…” Lydia said. She batted Presley backwards so she would be away from the door. Presley clung onto her arm with one hand like it was her lifeline. “I thought you were dead? Like, really dead?”

“Yeah…” Presley shifted. “I would know.”

Lydia laughed slightly. “What happened? How did this happen?”

Presley shrugged helplessly. “Your guess is as good as mine. I was just sitting in my room, crying, as I usually am, and then I fell asleep and now I’m here!” She looked around. “Nice room, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Lydia said. She glanced at her door. “Okay, well…” She ran a hand through her hair. “This…will cause some issues.”

“Oh.”

Presley took a shuffling step backwards and unholstered her crop, which she began to fidget with nervously. Lydia thought it was strange- wasn’t that the thing that basically caused her untimely demise? How could she be comfortable with even having it on her person after that?

“Sorry…”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Lydia assured her. “How were you supposed to know that you were going to…come back to life?”

“Heh. Yeah.” Presley smiled slightly at her, which then turned into a grimace of pain. “May I sit down?”

“Yeah, of course,” Lydia said, and Presley instantly dropped down to her knees. Her breathing came out strained and ragged. “Are you alright?”

Presley gave her a weak smile, and there was blood in her teeth and blood on her lips and blood on her tongue. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Lydia prodded, crouching down in front of her. “You don’t look so good.”

“Well, you know how I died,” Presley said, sitting up from her hunched position. She pressed a hand against the left side of her ribs, wincing. “Wasn’t exactly very, ahh, pretty…” She swallowed.

“Your wounds didn’t heal after you came back to life?” Lydia said. “I guess that’s what we’re calling this. But you didn’t get a fresh new start?”

Presley shook her head. She unbuttoned her jockey uniform and opened up one flap, the cloth making a disgusting peeling sound as it detached from her skin, to reveal the dark black abyss that was her trampled chest. Looking at it, even in the lamp’s golden glow, Lydia couldn’t tell where one wound ended and another wound began. They were all- the bruises and the lacerations and the welts and the hoofprints- melted into one big blemish of agony upon the young jockey’s torso. For a moment, Lydia didn’t even see that she had a sports bra on because the fabric (it had been grey, once upon a time) was completely soaked in blood and blending in with the rest of the mess.

“Unfortunately, no,” Presley closed her shirt. “I suppose it’s a fair trade. Being brought back for a second chance at life, but I have to live with the effects of how I died in the first one. Actually, that isn’t as fair as I thought. My internal organs had definitely been ruptured when--” She stopped talking and looked down at her stomach grimly.

“Well, that…sucks,” Lydia said. She glanced at her door again. How was she going to explain this to her family?

“Lydia!”

And speaking of the devils…

Lydia turned back to Presley. “Ready to meet my family?”

Presley perked up. “Really?”

“You don’t exactly have anywhere else to go,” Lydia said. “And you’re here, aren’t you? One more supernatural being living in our house won’t hurt!”

Presley tilted her head, and her helmet slumped over on her skull with the movement. “There are others?”

Lydia grinned. “Yep,” She said. “I got pretty much the coolest family.”

“Lydia!”

“Coming!” Lydia called back to the voice yelling for her. She looked back at Presley. “I’m going to go talk to them first. I’ll call down for you once they’re ready. Just be cool, okay? They’ll like you.”

At least, she hoped they would. Presley didn’t have anywhere else to go if they didn’t.

Delia, Barbara, Adam, and Charles, who had emerged from his office, were all assembled downstairs, preparing for dinner. Barbara smiled at Lydia when she came down.

“Did you find BJ?” Barbara asked.

“How long did it take to dismantle the prank?” Adam asked, sounding amused.

“What prank?” Beetlejuice materialized beside Charles, nearly making him drop the bowl of spaghetti he had been carrying to the table. He looked at him. “Sorry, Chuck.” He looked back at Lydia. “Now, what about a prank?”

All eyes turned to Lydia, and Lydia couldn’t help but feel like she was being interrogated, which was weird because she hadn’t done anything wrong. The ghost of a jockey who got killed during a race appearing in her bedroom as a living person wasn’t her fault! That was nobody’s fault!

“It turns out there was no prank,” Lydia said.

“Then what fell?” Delia asked.

“Yeah, about that…” Lydia glanced up the staircase. She faintly saw Presley hovering in the hallway. “Remember that one time we went to the Netherworld?”

“Yes,” Charles said. “It was the worst place ever.”

“Oh god,” Beetlejuice said. “Is this another lecture? I already said I’m sorry!”

“No, no, this isn’t about that,” Lydia said quickly. “While I was there, I met this girl. We kinda became friends, but, you know, I had to come back here so I haven’t seen her since.”

“Where is this going?” Adam asked, looking curious and slightly concerned.

“What if I told you guys that my friend came back to life somehow and appeared in my bedroom for no real rhyme or reason but now she’s here and has nowhere else to go?”

The house went quiet. Thunder rumbled outside, as if the very universe itself were laughing about the situation.

And then--

“WHAT?” Adam yelped.

“That can happen?” Delia said at the same time, looking at Beetlejuice.

“I guess!” Beetlejuice yelled.

“Wait, so there’s someone in our house right now?” Charles asked.

“Surprise!” Lydia said weakly. She looked up the staircase. “You can come down now.”

There was shuffling from upstairs; Presley emerged into the light of the open stairwell and staggered her way down the stairs, each step she took being punctuated by a wince. There were several gasps, mainly from Barbara, Delia, and Adam, as she stopped next to Lydia- not that Lydia blamed her family for their reactions.

Presley looked much, much worse in full lightning. Her skin was no longer pale pink like it had been in the Netherworld, rather just pale, as if all the blood was drained from her body and leaving her as an empty shell. Even her lips were completely leached of color. It was impossible to tell if the dark rings around her eyes were from sleep deprivation or were just shiners caused by her death. Her jockey uniform was slathered in a thick caking of mud--and then Lydia realized most of that was just dried blood. Black hoofprints were stamped up and down her chest, stomach, and legs, and some areas of the fabric were ripped, revealing grimy, bruised, and bloodied flesh underneath. The streams of blood down her face and side of her head were completely dried now, crusted over and flaking off. She was squeezing her crop nervously, bright hazel eyes darting everywhere around the house, but she quickly latched onto Lydia’s arm with one of her hands, holding on tightly, similarly to how she did down in the Netherworld when they first met.

“Everyone…” Lydia said to her gaping family. “Meet Presley!”

#i dont know what this au is gonna be called yet #but it's definitely something!#beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice the broadway musical #beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice fluff #beetlejuice #lydia deetz #barbara maitland #adam maitland #delia deetz #charles deetz #the jockey #we poured mud through their veins

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