#honestly like. you’d think the line would be worse?? but being in dish on a hot day is BRUTAL

[nothingweirdhere]

been awake for 36 hours….. now i sleep

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: a year after rafe had completely walked out of your life he shows up at your doorstep after hearing rumors that you’d had his daughter.

— warnings: smut! 18+ toxic relationship, cheating, arguing, rafe is slightly jealous, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, slight degrading, lots of praise, daddy kink, angst, soft!dom!rafe, no happy ending (besides rafe being allowed shared custody of his daughter).

— note: part two is here! i got this request for part two of hate that i love you and i honestly just couldn’t not do it. like oooooh yes yes yes. she’s kind of a long one, but not too bad? hope y’all enjoy<3

read part one here !

❥ hate that i love you (pt. 2) — r.c

It had been a year since you had told Rafe Cameron that you loved him, a year since he’d completely stepped out of your life, leaving you with no true explanation.

You had finally moved on though, you were finally happy with your life, dating someone who loved you, respected you, and most importantly, he loved your daughter as his own.

You’d thought about Rafe every single day though, the thoughts of ‘what if’ filling your mind more than they didn’t, and you hated it. You wished you’d gotten a true explanation, anything other than the bullshit line he fed you- “You can’t love me! No one can love me, i’m unlovable Maybank, okay?”

The words ran through your mind every single day for an entire year, and what made matters worse? Your daughter looked just like him, making it harder to push him from your mind, making it hard to forget how hard you had actually fallen for him, how much you wished he would have given you a chance to prove that you did in fact love him.

You’re pulled from your thoughts, the sound of your doorbell ringing through your ears making you silently curse and pull your hands from the dishes you were doing.

“Who the fuck? Everyone knows Nevaeh naps at this time” you say under your breath, making your way to the door and swinging it open.

You open your mouth, ready to cuss whoever was ringing your doorbell during your very cranky baby’s nap time, but the words die in your throat, tears welling up in your eyes instantly when you see Rafe standing on the other side.

“Hi Y/N..” Rafe says softly, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans as he awkwardly swayed on his feet.

You swallow the lump in your throat, wiping your tears with the back of your hand and clearing your throat, “What- What’re you doing here? I thought you left the island” you say, voice shaky as you try and stave off more tears from escaping.

He steps toward you, reaching his hand out to try and soothe you, but you take two steps back, not daring to allow his touch to reach you.

“Don’t- I- Fuck! What do you want Rafe?”

He lets his hand drop back to his side, a sigh leaving his lips as he drops his head. “I- I wanted to see you, and- and I had a question..”

You scoff, wrapping your arms around yourself as you try and blink your tears away. The pain of seeing his face was quickly being replaced with a feeling of anger, you knew he was about to ask about Nevaeh, and you figured this day would come eventually, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon.

“Save it, you didn’t wanna see me, you came here to ask about my daughter right? I assumed someone would eventually get ahold of you, i’m surprised you even care”

Rafe sighs again, “Y/N can I please just come inside? Talk to you?”

“I don’t think Carter would like that very much”

Rafe’s head whips up, his head tilted to the side and brow knit in confusion, “Carter? Who- Who the fuck is Carter?!”

You laugh darkly, “Carter Young, my boyfriend. Been with him for about eight months, he loves me, he accepts the love I give him, and he loves my daughter like she’s his own!”

This only angered Rafe more, his feet carrying him through the threshold of your front door, slamming it behind him in the process.

“You- You have another man taking care of my daughter? Our daughter?”

Rafe takes two long strides toward you, causing you to quickly match his movements and step backwards. The tension in the air was thick, your ears ringing from the presence of the man in front of you.

“She’s my daughter, Rafe! MY daughter! She doesn’t even know who you are, and you’re to blame for that! Not me! Carter loves us, he takes care of us! Why can’t you just let that be? Live your goddamn life, and leave us out of it!”

Rafe continues walking toward you, making you back up until your back hits the kitchen counter. Your fingertips grip at the countertop so tightly you were sure your knuckles were white.

Rafe places both of his arms on either side of your body, hands placed firmly on the counter as he dips his head down toward your ear. His lips ghost over the lobe of your ear, the feel of his breath fanning over your neck sending a shiver down your spine.

“She’s my daughter too, and if you would have fucking called me, I would have been here for her, so you’re to blame just as much as I am”

His voice was low, and gravelly, tone dripping with anger as he kept you trapped, back pressed harshly into the counter top, his arms caging you in, giving you no room to escape.

“R-Rafe. I- You need to go”

Rafe tsks, shaking his head and exhaling deeply, “ ‘M not going anywhere, Maybank. You know you miss me, you don’t fucking love Carter, you just think you do”

Rafe’s words have your ears ringing, the words that had just fallen past his lips the exact same ones he’d told you about himself a year ago.

“I- I do love him! He’s good for me, you’re not”

He dips his head down farther, his lips lightly scraping across the sensitive skin on your neck, making you suck in a sharp breath and squeeze your eyes shut.

He begins leaving sloppy kisses over the length of your neck, his tongue darting out and licking a stripe up your neck and to the lobe of your ear, teeth grazing at the skin softly. You sigh in content, palms flat against his toned chest as you push him back.

“Fuck it, kiss me” You beg, voice shaky as his blue eyes burn down into you.

Rafe wastes no time, his lips on yours in seconds. He bites down on your bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it lightly. You let out a high pitched moan, Rafe taking the opportunity to force his tongue into your mouth.

The sounds of your heavy breathing and low whimpers bounce off the walls of your kitchen, teeth and tongues clashing together as Rafe digs his fingers into your sides.

“Nevaeh is sleeping, let’s go upstairs, my room” You say against his lips, to which he grins in satisfaction.

He lightly taps at your ass, silently telling you to jump and straddle him. You quickly obey, jumping and wrapping your legs around his torso, his hands both planted firmly under your ass as he held you up and began walking you toward the stairs and into your bedroom.

Once inside your room he drops you to your feet, closing the door softly behind him, leaving it unlocked despite your pleas for him to lock it, his mind hoping that Carter would come home and find his ‘perfect princess’ being fucked by her baby daddy.

Rafe pushes you backward until the backs of you knees hit the soft mattress, shoving you onto your back and climbing on top of you.

His lips find yours again, attacking you with sloppy kisses, teeth nipping and grazing over your sensitive skin and pulling soft whines from you.

“God I fucking missed you, Maybank” He pauses, grabbing your hand and placing it on his bulge, “You always drove me fucking insane, you feel that? That’s what you do to me”

You blush, his words making butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Shut up, you probably say that to every girl you sleep with”

“I don’t” He places a soft kiss to your lips, “Just you, it’s always been you, Y/N/N”

You sigh, the feel of his soft lips on yours igniting a fire inside you, a fire that only he could bring you. But you couldn’t let him have his way, no, you just wanted to get back at him for the way he’d left you. Make him hurt the way he’d made you hurt.

He pushes himself up on his palms, sitting on his knees and pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his toned and tanned chest and abdomen to you. You run your hands down his front, fingers grazing softly over his abs, your lust filled gaze meeting his.

You smile up at him, “I’ve missed this”

Rafe smirks, undoing the button of his jeans and pulling the zipper down, discarding his jeans to the floor and moving to strip you next.

He pulls your shirt up and over your head, casting it to the side. His hands fly to your bra clad chest, palms firmly grasping at your breasts as he groans, “Fuck, I missed these pretty tits so much”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingernails lightly scraping at the skin, leaving a trail of scratches down the soft skin.

“Lift up baby” Rafe softly demands, hands tugging at the hem of your shorts. You do as he says, lifting your ass off the mattress and letting him slide your shorts and panties down your legs.

He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your glistening cunt, his fingers moving quickly to run through your slick folds, gathering your arousal on his long, thick digits.

“Such a pretty pussy, wonder if she still tastes as sweet?”

Your body heats up, high pitched whines falling from you as he teases your entrance with his fingers. He lays himself on his stomach, his head dipping down and leaving soft kisses on your aching cunt. He licks a long stripe through your folds and to your clit, flicking at the sensitive bundle of nerves and making you jerk your hips forward.

“Mmm, still so fucking sweet”

Rafe blows onto your core, making you whine, the cold air making goosebumps erupt on your skin. He dips his head back down, his lips wrapping around your clit. He sucks at the bundle of nerves, his tongue flicking and swirling around it and making your brain short circuit.

Your hands fly to the back of his head, fingers digging into his perfectly styled hair and tugging tightly at the locks. “Yes yes, fuck! Rafe!”

You press your head into your pillows, your back arching off the bed as he laps at your core like a man starved. He probes at your entrance with his tongue, fucking it into you before wrapping his lips around your clit again. You gasp when you feel two of his fingers sliding through your slick, pushing the thick digits slowly into your aching cunt.

He begins to quickly thrust his fingers into you, your gummy walls clenching around him tightly. He releases your clit from his mouth, lifting his head as his eyes find your face. He smirks in amusement as he watches you squirm beneath him, his fingers continuing their assault on your pussy.

“Fuck baby, I love the way you look when i’m fucking you with just my fingers, squeezin’ ‘em so tight, fuck can’t wait to fuck this tight cunt, need you squeezin’ my cock like this”

“Fuck, s’close Rafe! Don’t stop!”

Rafe chuckles, curling his fingers up and hitting at that spot deep inside you that sent you spiraling over the edge. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it princess. Come on, cum all over daddy’s fingers, be a good little slut”

You scream out in pleasure, head thrown back and toes curling as your release begins squirting from you, soaking Rafe’s hand and your sheets.

Rafe continues thrusting his fingers, helping fuck you through your high before he pulls them from inside you. You lay limp on your bed, breathing ragged and harsh. Rafe brings his fingers to your mouth, shoving them inside and down your throat, making you gag around them. “Taste yourself baby, soo fuckin’ sweet, yeah?”

You breathe in through your nose, closing your eyes and swirling your tongue around his fingers, sucking them clean as you hum in response.

“Ready to let me fill that pretty pussy up? Gonna br dripping with me when ‘m done with you, Carters gonna know who you belong to then”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, strings of spit being pulled from your mouth. He pushes you onto your back and spreads your legs open. He takes one hand keeps your leg held open, his free hand shoving his underwear down his legs and kicking them onto the floor. He begins stroking himself slowly, your eyes tensely watching his movements, hips bucking forward as you crave the stretch you know he’ll give you.

He begins sliding himself through your slick, pushing the head in first before fully sinking himself inside you. He begins thrusting into you slowly and sensually, tears welling up in your eyes as you slowly roll your hips with his.

“Fuck, so tight baby. I love fucking you like this, so slowly, so deep you can feel me in your stomach”

You let fresh tears fall from your eyes, your hands flying around his neck and pulling his face toward yours. You leave a soft kiss on his lips as his cock thrusts slowly into you. You feel the fire growing inside you, the band threatening to snap again as Rafe’s tip hits at your g-spot repeatedly.

You suck in a shaky breath, tears flowing uncontrollably down your cheeks, mascara staining the skin as you open your mouth to speak. “I- Fuck, Rafe, I’m so close”

“Let it go baby, cum all over my cock, let me feel you make a mess”

You feel the burn from your core take over your entire body, your second release rushing out of you. You choke out a sob, toes curled and fists tightly gripping the sheets as Rafe fucked you through your high.

“Fuck, I’m right there baby, keep squeezin’ me like that”

Your pussy clamps down around Rafe, sucking him further into you. You feel his thrusts grow sloppy, his hips stuttering as his seed fills you.

He lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, his lips leaving soft kisses on the skin. You feel your heart shatter when he lets the words you wished he’d said to you a year ago fall from his mouth, “Fuck, I love you”

You silently choke out sobs as Rafe rides out his high. Your heart was in a million pieces, you missed him, and you did love him at one point, but you knew what was best for you, and it wasn’t him.

Rafe collapses on top of you, his breathing rough and ragged as he leaves kisses along the length of your neck.

You felt like you were suffocating under his weight and you begin pushing at his chest. He pulls himself from you, sitting himself up and staring softly down at you.

He frowns when he sees your mascara stained cheeks, the look of hurt on your face making his heart shatter.

“What’s wrong?”

You sit yourself up on your bed, swinging your legs over the side and planting your feet on the ground. You quickly stand and gather your clothes off the floor, dressing as fast as you could in silence as Rafe watched you.

You turn to face him, your hand tightly pressed against your chest. “I-I meant what I said, Rafe.. We can’t be together”

Your words make him fly to his feet, grabbing his briefs off the floor and pulling them up his legs. He rushes to your side, placing his hand on your back, his free hand hooking under your chin and lifting your head to meet his eyes.

“What- What do you mean? Let me take care of you and Nevaeh. Please Y/N, I-I love you!”

Your tearful gaze is on him, fresh hot tears falling down your cheeks as you give him a soft smile. “No you don’t, Rafe. You never did. I believe you want to be apart of Nevaeh’s life, and that’s okay with me, we can work out a custody agreement, but- you and I? We can’t be together.. I- I can’t do that to Carter”

“You just cheated on Carter with me? You can’t leave him for me? For our family?”

You softly shake your head no, wiping your fresh tears with the back of your hand. You place a loving hand on his chest, “No Rafe, I can’t. Carter will never find out about this, okay? I love him. I’m sorry.. I wish things could be different, but they can’t. But you can still see Nevaeh, you can have her one week i’ll have her the other week. We can spend holidays together, her birthdays, but besides Nevaeh, we have no reason to be around each other”

You see Rafe’s eyes fill with tears, shattering your heart more than it already was. You hated that you were doing this to him, but it was for the best. You needed this clean break, you needed this closure. A part of you would always be in love with Rafe Cameron, but it just wasn’t meant to be for the two of you, and you’d finally accepted that.

“I understand… Can I- Can I meet her now?”

You grab your phone off the nightstand, checking the time and seeing it was time to get her up from her nap anyways so you nod your head.

“Yeah, get dressed and meet me in her room. It’s the room right next to mine”

You walk out of the room, leaving Rafe to get dressed. You enter the room of your sleeping daughter, pulling her from her crib and softly rocking her. “Wake up baby girl, your daddy’s here, and he really wants to meet you. You’re going to love him, and I know he’s going to love you”

You hear her bedroom door being pushed open, turning your body to face Rafe, Nevaeh still sleeping peacefully in your arms.

Rafe smiles, taking slow and cautious steps toward you. He reaches his hand out, softly running his hand over the top of her head. “She- She’s beautiful, Y/N”

You smile up at him, giving him a soft nod, “She looks just like you. She has your bright blue eyes and already has your crooked smile”

Rafe lets his own tears fall down his face, his eyes taking in the beauty that was his daughter.

“Can I- Can I hold her?”

You nod your head, extending your arms out and placing her in his arms. He expertly holds her, rocking his body back and fourth as he coos and whispers down at her.

“Hi baby girl, i’m your daddy. I love you so much, and I promise i’ll always take care of you”

Your eyes well up with more tears, watching Rafe with your daughter, his daughter, making your heart swell. Even if you couldn’t have his love, you were forever grateful that your daughter would.

RAFE TAGLIST: @ivy-34 @rafeism @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lorelai-lilith @starkeypankowsbae @lizcameron @m-1234 @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @alexisbaumann2004 @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @mel119g @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @jjmaybankisbae @lexasaurs634 @softlilacarrest @fayerite @exhaustedbutelated @lyndys @urmyslxt @presleyanswrites @sierraluvz @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols

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[loyally-unfaithful]

domestic life hc—tartaglia | childe

word count: 2.8k

pairing: tartaglia | childe/gn!reader

genre: fluff

a/n:  idk man i got the childe brainrot,, fictional kgb member, i love you <3

who kisses the other on the nose and the one receiving the kiss blushes?

childe would do it a lot to you, especially at the beginning of your relationship.

not that he doesn’t like giving you nose kisses—he still loves kissing you in general <3

it’s just that when you both just started out, your reaction would be more potent. you’d be more flustered, stammering as you stared him with wide eyes.

if you asked him why, he’d give a smile that’s so painfully honeyed, while his eyes twinkled with mischief.

« you’re just too cute when you act all shy. » his voice teasing.

but here’s the secret.

he is not immune to nose boops.

do not hesitate to do it to him!! give him a taste of his own medicine!!!

he will not expect your boldness and he will be caught very off guard.

his own reaction would be just or even more incredible than yours, actually sksksksk.

tease him and reap the rewards man.

he’d snap up and blink at you, surprised. not quite believing that yes, actually, two can play at this game. he’d try to stutter out a witty comeback, but it holds no bite due to the furious blush covering his face.

either way, the both of you would laugh it out.

nowadays tho, you mostly just playfully roll your eyes at him and smile lazily, waiting until he gives you a kiss on the lips too.

who sits on their partner’s lap as they wrap their arms around their partners neck?

this man is your throne and you will sit on your rightful place.

real talk tho, childe makes a p decent chair considering. and he actually likes having you on his lap—it gives him free and unrestricted access to everything.

his arms would snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him. he’s not letting his prey you go anytime soon, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

as you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands may even wander elsewhere.

maybe you’ll simply hold each other close, tenderly closing the distance between the two of you, happy to have his affection, and him yours.

or maybe he’ll take it as an opportunity to kiss you, roughly, with desire, with want, until you’re breathless and your lips are bruised. this position, you think, as you feel his hand sneak under your clothes and trace your bare skin (which now feels unbearably hot), may also lead to something else. something more.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

who kisses the inside of their partner’s palm before reassuring them everything is going to be okay?

before setting off on his travels, childe would press a gentle kiss on the inside of your hand, reassuring. it’s a message, a reminder, a promise.

a promise that he’ll stay safe, that’ll he’ll return to you, unharmed.

he does it to soothe your worries and let you know that there was nothing to be worried about—he doesn’t want you to get all stressed on his behalf. as much as it pains him to part from you for too long, he needs to do what he must; but he’ll be thinking of you and your health every step of the way.

so like

to go on a bit of a tangent

we know that childe’s work, as a fatui—a harbinger no less—is of course very dangerous. and even though he’s more than capable of handling whatever his travels throw at him, you can’t help but be worried for him.

and i also feel like, if you didn’t know this [his true nature] from the get-go, he’d hide his actual line of work or obfuscate most of the details from you.

it’s because he doesn’t want to stress you with the more gruesome details.

if you were never aware of the darker side of his profession, then he’d rather not have your perception of him be tainted. in your eyes, he was just sweet, darling tartaglia—not the murderer or weapon of war that he really was—and he'd prefer to keep it that way.

he’s aware that fatuis get bad rap as is, and he doesn’t know how he’d feel if his status made you afraid of him, or even worse, detest him. you hating him was the last thing he wanted.

you generally respect his boundaries, and accept whatever vague descriptions he gives you about his current “commission” (location, length of time). you have your doubts about his work as a “merchant”, but you have faith that he’ll see his endeavours through, even if you yourself are unsure and concerned.

anyway i…

i’m getting horribly off topic 0A0

moving on—

who initiates the forehead touch™?

after a long day of gruelling work, he’d probably long for your touch and affection, without exactly having the energy left to really vocalise his feelings. 

or at least, eloquently.

that’s why on quiet evenings, he’d seek you out and gently press his forehead against yours, pleased; you happy enough to follow his lead.

maybe childe lays his head on your lap while you play with his hair, untangling knots that have somehow formed in his unruly hair. at some point, he may reach out and pull you closer, close enough that your foreheads are touching. close enough to feel his warm breath fan your face.

you have to bend down a bit, and truthfully the position’s awkward, but your back’s protests are the last thing in your mind as you stare back into his pearlescent blue eyes.

despite his weariness, your comfort brings a smile to his face.

sometimes, he may even murmur something about how happy he was to be back home.

no words are exchanged, but there doesn’t need to be.

the love is there, and the both of you are content enough to simply revel in it.

where do they first say “I love you”?

things such as “i love you” and “i need you” are hard to utter for childe.

it’s a sign of weakness for him, and it’s a sign of weakness he does not wish to reveal nor acknowledge. if he says it, if he says that he loves you, he’s admitting a defect.

he has very little allies, and his enemies would not hesitate to take advantage of any leverage they can get. he doesn’t want you to be in danger because of him, he doesn’t want you to be used against him.

so admitting such vulnerability is very difficult for him.

however, though childe may be cold and calculated, tartaglia, ajax, is a man of feelings.

despite his consternation, he puts great importance over his loyalties and whom he offers his love to.

the first time he admits that he loves you, it is with great difficulty, as if it was a sin he shan’t utter.

he loves you, he thinks, but he cannot vocalise.

the first time he admits it, it was an accident. an impulse, the words whispered out against his consent, escaping before he was able to hold them in.

he carelessly lets the phrase out, and a part of him regrets while the other rejoices.

you make him weak when no other stands a chance to subjugate him so.

he hates it and he loves it oh so much.

it’s so so dangerous, and yet he is addicted.

he loves you.

who wraps their arms around their partner who’s cooking?

ok so like, it’s canon:

his siblings acknowledge him as the “the bestest big brother ever!” because he can cook and do housework. we stan a househusband.

anyway, this means that he’s at least a decent chef.

but because of his busy schedule as a harbinger, he rarely ever finds the time to cook, or to even be home. when he does get home, he would greet you before promptly passing tf out.

so he’d usually buy food when he remembers to eat. besides, his salary pretty much allows him to savour whatever liyue delicacy he wants to. the price, whatever it may have been, was negligible.

but honestly, truly, regardless of how luxurious and mouth-watering such expensive dishes were, nothing could beat home cooking. it hit different.

knowing this, you tended to prepare enough for two during dinner and save his portion on the dining table for when he gets home while you retreated to bed.

but on the off chance that he does get a day off, you best bet he’ll spend all that time within your presence. he is not letting you out of his sight and his arm’s reach.

he’ll ask you what you wanted to do. what you wanted to eat; he would treat you to anything, to repay your kindness, your thoughtfulness, as a way to say thank you, to say he’s glad to have you here and that he honestly truly cares for you.

you didn’t have to make him food but u did 🥺

if you said you just wanted something homemade, or if you wanted to taste what traditional snezhnayan food, he’d be more than happy to make you some of his favourite comfort food.

honestly you’re just shook that the man knows how to cook, and is quite good at it. an unexpected talent that makes you go “damn he’s the one, lads.”

as he works his magic, you’d help him around here and there, bringing this and chopping that. but for the most part, you’d just be his distraction and annoy him.

he will also annoy you back tbh.

playful digs and shade will be thrown… among other things being thrown…

yeah… cleaning up the kitchen is going to be a pain after this…

but he wouldn’t have it any other way—neither would you, for that matter.

you’re either gonna make something very delicious or nothing’s getting done, there’s no in between. you set the tone for this day dkfjd

if you want a chance in hell to actually get to eat something at the end, your best plan is to just wrap your arms around him and rest your chin on his shoulder. you’d pepper his skin with kisses while he tries his best to not be distracted from the task at hand (and maybe not slice his hand open with a knife).

oh well, what’s a little collateral damage here and there?

he’s here.

he’s yours, at least for now.

and you will take advantage of this.

who breaks out the first aid kit when the other gets a paper cut?

paternal cell.

paternal cell.

paternal cell.

we know childe do be a family man tho.

like let’s be honest, this man is a family man.

he loves his siblings and he loves his family. he has a very honest protective streak over his family and proclaimed loved ones. he hates seeing them hurt or unhappy so he will do anything to avoid such a situation.

if it does happen, he will do his damndest to remedy it.

so if he sees you getting hurt, even if it was simply just a paper cut, you best believe it’s protective ajax time and he’s pulling out the first aid kit.

bandaids, antiseptic, anti-inflammatory lotion, you name it. you tell him you don’t actually need half of these items and he shushes you before fussing over you.

he is making sure whatever ailment you have will heal up nicely and quickly.

he doesn’t want to see ur hurt :( and he rlly hopes u heal as fast as possible. you being hurt hurts him tenfold.

but not to worry, if he gets hurts? you’re also there very very quickly. you will rush to his side and you will fret over him, and his heart will fall all over for you once more, because you care about him and honestly it’s a nice feeling.

to be cared for.

maybe he doesn’t mind getting hurt if it means you would give him all of your attention and dote on him.

he just has to make sure you don’t find out he’s been getting injured intentionally because that’s instant banishment to the sofa for at least a few days.

who cuddles up to the other?

i like to imagine childe is a pretty affectionate dude, as in, he’s pretty touchy-feely. there’s also a little bit of possessiveness i think.

a lot of pda with this guy.

he wants to hold you close, he wants to be able to feel you near him.

so regardless of the time and place, he will make it known that you’re his, as he is yours.

it is no different as to when you’re in private. he’d snuggle up to you.

idk he just likes being near you? holding you, touching you, feeling you.

sometimes he can be a little restless in bed. if he doesn’t immediately conk out, he might build up some nighttime anxiety and paranoia. having you sleep soundly besides him makes it a little more bearable. it makes him feel safe and it certainly grounds him.

he finds that he sleeps a lot better and wakes up feeling a little more refreshed when you’re there with him.

of course, you were more than happy to reciprocate and curl up to him, his arms enveloping you.

though he might make a bit of a fuss and whinge, he lowkey highkey likes being in your arms. he won’t admit it, but being the little spoon is nice actually.

childe won’t ask for it or anything, he still wants to save face, but as you cuddle, the two of you would gradually shift until he has his head over your chest and he can hear the rhythmic beating of your heart. calming him.

who falls asleep on who? what is their reaction when the other falls asleep on them?

because of his job as a harbinger (not that you know that), he rarely ever comes home early or during normal human waking hours, so despite your determination you’re usually asleep by the time he slips inside your shared home.

that or by the time childe was comfortably sat next to you, more than happy to cuddle and listen to you ramble on about your day your excitement has already worn off, and in its place, drowsiness.

but it’s ok.

he would smile softly to himself, you asleep in his arms, small smile gracing your own lips, and gently lift up and carry you to your shared bedroom. slowly, carefully, he’d place himself near you without waking you up.

oh well, it can’t be helped. he’s happy enough to be around you, to have someone waiting for him.

but on the off chance you’re still awake while he was asleep, you would definitely take this chance to admire him, quietly watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

without that characteristic smug and self-satisfied grin, you’d wager he looked “innocent” you chuckle. but “innocent” and “childe” don’t belong in the same sentence.

stroking his hair, you’d notice how he looked so peaceful, carefree, even, when he’s asleep, and you long for the time when he’d look such a way when he was awake

you’d gently kiss his forehead, unable to bring yourself to break his peaceful repose to bring him to bed. instead, you wrapped a blanket you nabbed from childe’s bedroom around his shoulders and settle in his arms, happy to be near the man you love.

the next day, the both of you may wake up with terribly stiff necks rip

who likes to be held and who likes to hold?

i feel as if this is a shared sentiment. you both hold each one another an equal amount. ^u^

he’s used to being the older brother, the protector to his younger siblings, and he doesn’t oppose to having that role.

so in true childe fashion, he’d tease you for being all cuddly and insatiably hungry for his affection, but coddles you all the same (because he just loves the thought of, and being, held close).

you on the other hand love being adored by the object of your affection, paying no mind to his quips (ok maybe paying a little mind, as you huff and playfully hit him for being mean).

it’s ok though. he makes it up through his actions. and being paid attention to, cared for, adored and cherished by childe? you revel in it.

when you take him in your arms, he feels immensely happy and relieved.

to know that you care for him, that you’re looking out for him and that you love him—it brings forth a part of him he has long believed to have locked away and discarded.

a part of him that would’ve been considered weak, a part of him that wishes to be vulnerable, protected, and loved.

he figures that when it’s with you, it’s alright. he embraces it all the same because he trusts you.

you’re both smitten and you think to yourself that it’s alright his way.

because you have his heart, and he has yours.

LIKE MY WORK? CONSIDER BUYING ME A COFFEE // CHECKING OUT MY MASTERLIST | LINKS CAN BE FOUND ON MY DESC

[wizkiddx]

was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕

oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx

summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more

“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.  

Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something. 

Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer. 

And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about. 

“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”

“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.

“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?” 

“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard. 

“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”

Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts. 

“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face. 

Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat. 

“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement. 

And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock. 

“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”

“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour. 

“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”

“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too. 

The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face. 

/////////////////////////////

After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.

“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”

“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and  frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.” 

“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side. 

“‘My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other. 

“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?” 

“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”

“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”

“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set. 

“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding. 

So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all  and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick.  Naturally too,  you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything. 

About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat  the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot,  after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep. 

Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked. 

And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that. 

Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth? 

Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares? 

No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam? 

Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 140

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,325ish

Summary: The Starks receive unexpected visitors, that come with a plan. 

Warning: Possible gif overload. Gifs aren’t mine. I just love Tony and Morgan.

Before the small Stark family knew it, it was October of 2023. And their house had become a wonderful home for them.

Morgan was four and almost the spitting image of her father. She was smart like him too. She loved working with her father in his workshop or playing outside in the tent Tony bought for her. 

Y/N had got into gardening, especially because they were kind of far away from any grocery store. Tony was a willing helping hand and was slowly becoming a small farm boy. It bought a few small goats, an alpaca, a couple of chickens, two cats, and was planning on getting a dog for Morgan for Christmas.

Steve and Natasha only visited when Tony was gone or Y/N and Morgan went to them. Tony was still struggling to forgive after everything, and Y/N wasn’t willing to push Tony more than he had willingly done himself.

Y/N was currently in the kitchen, making lunch, while Tony was “being helpful”.

“Are these our gojis?” Tony wondered, looking at the bowl of berries.

“They are not,” Y/N answered as she cut tomatoes.

“What’s wrong with ours?”

“Your alpaca ate them all.”

“Oh.”

“All of them.”

Tony laughed, moving to the other side of Y/N. “What a glowing endorsement. First of all Gerald is our alpaca.”

Y/N scoffed out a small chuckle. “He’s not my alpaca if he’s eating my goji’s.”

“Okay.” He grabbed a handful of berries. “They’re gonna be nice in the salad right there, right?”

“No.” Y/N quickly reach over to stop Tony. “Don’t, don’t, don’t!” Tony looked at her with big doe eyes. “Could you put it down?” She gently pushed his arm away. “And get out of my kitchen.”

“Okay.” He turned towards the stove and crashed into some pots. “Whoops.” Trying to bite back a smile, Y/N looked up at the ceiling. “We’re good here, right?”

“Yeah, we’re great.” She got back to chopping. “Tell Madam Secretary that lunch is in five.”

“I will collect our alpha female, posthaste,” Tony replied, before exiting the house.

Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she focused back on the food. She was so lucky. So very lucky.

~~~

Tony walked down the porch steps, clapping out a beat. 

“Chow time!” He called out to his daughter, heading towards her little play area. “Maguna?” He sat on a small chair outside of her tent. “Morgan H. Stark. Want some lunch?”

Morgan appeared from the fort with a suit helmet on and a fake suit glove. She had her gloved hand pointed at her father.

“Define lunch or be disintegrated,” she demanded in her young voice.

“Okay,” he ran his fingers down the helmet to the edge. “You should not be wearing that, okay? That is part of a special anniversary gift I’m making for mom.” He kissed the side of the helmet before removing the helmet from Morgan’s head and brushing the hair from her face.

“Okay.”

“There you go. Are you thinking about lunch? Wand a handful of crickets?”

“No,” she laughed.

“That’s what you want.” Tony held up the helmet. “How did you find this?”

“Garage.”

“Really? Were you looking for it?”

“No. I found it, though.”

“You like going to the garage, huh?” Morgan nodded as Tony lifted her up and set her on his hip. “So does daddy. It’s fine actually. Mom never wears anything I buy her.”

As they made their way to the house, a black car pulled up and parked in the driveway. Steve, Natasha, and Scott Lang stepped out as Y/N came out of the house to see what was holding Tony and Morgan up. They all were looking at Tony, who was avoiding Steve’s gaze and gave a slight nod to Natasha.

“Uncle Steve!” Morgan exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of her father’s arms. ��Auntie Nat!”

Tony failed to keep her there, and let her run to welcome the guests. Y/N and Tony shared a look. They knew that, since Scott was with them, this wasn’t just a friendly visit. Y/N walked down the porch, to where Morgan was chatting Steve’s ear off in his arms.

“Hey, Mo,” Y/N called to her daughter. “Why don’t we go inside and make drinks for everyone? Then you can talk your uncle’s ear off.”

“Okay,” she sighed, turning to reach Y/N. Y/N took her from Steve.

“Please don’t ask anything stupid of him,” Y/N whispered to Steve. “He’s—we’re finally happy.”

Steve didn’t bother to answer, which Y/N huffed about before heading into the house with Morgan. Tony, Steve, Nat, and Scott gathered on the porch as Morgan and Y/N made drinks inside. Scott was explaining something when Y/N brought a tray of drinks out to Tony. She wished she could hear what they were talking about, but she needed to stay in with Morgan. Y/N watched from the window as she fed Morgan.

“Now, we know what it sounds like—“ Scott said, finishing his story.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” Steve interrupted.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Tony asked, handing out drinks. 

“Thank you.”

“In Layman's terms, it means you're not coming home.”

“I did,” Scott said.

“No, you accidentally survived. It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

“A time heist?”

“Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before? Oh, because it's laughable? Because it's a pipedream?”

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them.”

“We can snap our own fingers,” Natasha stated. “We can bring everyone back.”

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony responded.

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won't help if there's no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome would be our collective demise.” Tony sat down.

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel,” Scott replied. “That means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events—“

Tony held a hand out. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Scott. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back To The Future?”

“No.”

“Good. You had me worried there. 'Cause that'd be horse shit. That's not how quantum physics works.”

“Tony…” Natasha called. “We have to take a stand.”

“We did stand. And yet, here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did,” Scott was pleading. 

Y/N could see that Tony was getting overwhelmed and she quickly told her daughter to go and save him. 

“And now, now we have a chance to bring her back,” Scott continued. “To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even—“

“That’s right, Scott, I won’t even. I got a kid.”

Morgan ran up to Tony, who quickly set her in his lap. “Mommy told me to come and save you,” she said.

“Good job. I’m saved.” Tony stood up, facing his friends. "I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for six.”

“Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you and Y/N, I really am. But this is a second chance.”

“I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” He headed inside.

“Talk to Y/N about it. Think it over.”

“No need. We can’t risk this.”

Tony entered the house, holding Morgan close. He went straight into the kitchen to get washed up for lunch. Y/N watched as their three visitors walked back to Steve’s car. Steve looked back at the house, making eye contact with Y/N through the window.

~~~

Tony was quieter than usual the rest of the day. This worried Y/N, but she couldn’t let it get to her. She needed to take care of Morgan. They made dinner together and Tony and Morgan chatted loudly over dinner. He even offered to do the dishes while Y/N tucked in Morgan. 

As Tony finished the last of the dishes, he lost hold of the hose, causing water to spray everywhere. Including the small shelves beside the sink that held a photo of Howard and a photo of Tony and Peter. Seeing the photo of Peter slightly wet, Tony grabbed it to dry it off. Looking down he say Peter’s face. He missed that kid so much. He looked up, with a determination he hadn’t felt in a while.

When Y/N came down from tucking in Morgan, Tony was at a table. He was talking to FRIDAY and playing around with a hologram. She knew very well to leave him alone when he was like this, so she grabbed her book and curled up on the couch.

Tony was still going strong about an hour and a half later:

"Look at a mod inspiration, let me see what check out,” he told FRIDAY. “So, recommend one last sim before we pack it in for the night. This time, in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing,” FRIDAY responded.

“Give me that eigenvalue. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. That will take a second.” He stuffed some food in his mouth.

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out. I’m just kinda—“

“Model rendered.”

Tony fell back into a chair, in complete shock and amazement. “Shit!”

“Shit,” Morgan giggled.

Tony turned around to see Morgan sitting on the stairs behind him, large smile on her face.

“Sshhh,” Tony shushed, finger over his mouth. “What are you doing up, little miss?” He whispered.

“Shit,” she repeated.

“No, we don't say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her.”

“Why you up?”

“'Cause I got some important shit going on here.” Morgan raised a brow at her father, not impressed. “What do you think? No, I got something on my mind. I got something on my mind.”

“Was it Juice Pops?”

“Sure was. That’s extortion.” He stood up and took his daughter’s hand. “Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on…” Tony looked back at the model before heading to the kitchen with Morgan, “…my mind.”

~~~

“You done?” Tony asked with a smile on his face. Morgan was lying in her bed, finishing a Juice Pop. “Yeah, now you are.” He took the popsicle stick before wiping Morgans lips with his sleeve and pushing her head onto her pillow. “That face goes there.”

“Tell me a story,” Morgan said.

“A story… Once upon a time, Maguna went to bed. The end.”

“That’s a horrible story,” Morgan giggled.

“Come on, that's your favorite story. I love you tons.” He kissed Morgan on the forehead as he stood up.

“I love you 3000.”

Tony grinned, “wow,” he mouthed, putting the popsicle stick in his mouth. He turned off her lamp and headed to the door. “3000. That’s crazy. Go to bed. Or I’ll see all your toys. Night, night.”

Tony shut the door and heading to the living room. Y/N was still curled up reading.

“Not that it's a competition, but she loves me 3000,” Tony stated as he came up to the side of the couch. 

“Oh does she now?” Y/N questioned.

“You were somewhere on the low 6 to 900 range.” Y/N scoffed as Tony chewed on the stick and looked at the fireplace. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, it's just a book on composting,” she responded.

“What's new with composting?”

“Just—“

“I figured it out, by the way.”

Y/N looked up at Tony. “You know, just so we're talking about the same thing—“

“Time travel.”

“What? Wow… I… That’s amazing, and… terrifying.”

“That’s right.” Tony sat down on the other end of the couch.

Y/N reached over and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “We got really lucky.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

“No, I can't help everybody.”

“It sort a seems like you can.”

“Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now, and stop.”

“Tony… getting each other to stop has been one of the few failures of our lives.”

He smiled lightly at her. “I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake... go to bed.”

“But would you be able to rest? Cause I sure as hell won’t be able to… I’ll stand by your side no matter you choose.”

“You already know what I’ll choose though, don’t you? Cause you’ve seen in.”

“I haven’t seen it… but I know that last fight isn’t the last.”

“I just… I can’t lose you and Morgan.”

“You won’t.” Y/N grabbed Tony’s hand. “We’re going to do this. Together…” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “Your lips taste like Juice Pops,” she giggled against his lips.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” 

She shook her head before kissing him again, this time more heated. Tony pulled her onto his lap.

“What would you say to grabbing some Juice Pops and taking this upstairs?” Y/N panted slightly.

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” He placed on last kiss on Y/N’s lips before standing them both up. “I’ll grab the pops, meet you up stairs.”

“We have to be quiet though. Last time Morgan almost walked in on us.”

“Oh, don’t worry. FRIDAY won’t let that happen again.”

next chapter >

NOTES: Sorry about the time jump. Please send in requests for one shots or questions you want answered about the missing time. Try to be specific.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[9tzuyu]

children of tragedy [pt.2]

note: hi. i totally did not mean for this to be a filler chapter but thats what it ended up being :(. i hope you guys still like it though. this is mostly natasha x reader (platonic), so maybe that’ll make up for it? lmk your thoughts!

mistakes are mine as always.

warnings: talk of alcohol abuse

pt. 1 | pt.3

🏷 @peggycarter-steverogers @blackxwidowsxwife (tagged since its nat centric)

when you left in the middle of the night while wanda slept in the other room. you didn’t bother waking her to say your goodbyes, instead wanting things to be quick and simple. telling wanda goodbye would only prolong that process. 

you did, however, leave one last sticky note on the kitchen table for her to see when she woke up. it was nothing over the top, just a reminder to make sure she ate and took care of herself.

(and of course your signature smiley face at the bottom of the paper. she loved your odd little version of a smiley face.)

you packed a bag separate from everything wanda put together and stuffed it to the brim with bare necessities. clothes were replaceable. what you had with wanda was not. besides, she probably wouldn’t mind keeping a few of your sweatshirts. they were always her favorite.

rummaging in the side pockets of your jacket you found the last twenty dollar bill you had and used it to catch the next bus across town. 

in all honesty you would’ve texted natasha to tell her you were on your way, but your phone had been dead for three days and you didn’t bother charging it after last night’s conversation. natasha wouldn’t mind though, you’ve been friends with her for over seventeen years. she was the only person who knew about your upbringing and all the abusive relationships between. she’d been there countless times to pick you up from the hospital your exes put you in, never once blaming you for what happened.

similarly to wanda, natasha never judged you for your decisions or ways of coping. she worried just as much as wanda did, but knowing you hated having to talk about things she kept silent. there were only a handful of times natasha could think of where you talked to her about what happened.

with a deep breath in, you slung your backpack over your shoulder and stepped off the bus. the walk to natasha’s house from your drop off area was only about fifteen minutes, but within that short amount of time you managed to get worked up over wanda. your thoughts were so loud that by the time you made it to natasha’s door step you had tears streaming down your face, your nose red from wiping it with the sleeve of your jacket. 

natasha was quick to answer, but she hadn’t expected you of all people to be standing right in front of her. snapping herself out of shock, she pulled you in for a hug before moving back to check you for any signs of bruising. 

there were a few, but they were fading nicely against your skin. and the cuts she found looked like they had been treated with care, which only confused the redhead. she hadn’t heard from you in over eight months, so it wasn’t surprising that she missed out on hearing about wanda. 

what a shame, you thought to yourself. she would’ve loved her.

natasha closed the door behind you and brought you over to her sofa. you laughed remembering that you were in this very same position last night; although it wasn’t like natasha could break up with you or anything of the sort. 

“stay here, i’ll be right back.”

you glanced at the clock on natasha’s wall seeing that it was three in the morning.

it was only when natasha came back when you noticed her disheveled hair and chapped lips. it was clear she was sleeping prior to you knocking on her door. she immediately noticed the guilty look on your face and quickly went to stop you from overthinking.

“none of that now, i don’t care at all that you woke me up at three in the morning. i haven’t seen you in over eight months, i’d be angry with myself if i hadn’t heard you knocking.” unsure how to reply, you nodded solemnly. 

she smiled, “are you hungry?” you licked your lips, food hadn’t crossed your mind in hours. “very.”

you followed her to the kitchen where she brought out a can of soup and set it to cook on the stove. 

“i don’t have much, i keep forgetting to go to the store.” she shrugged, leaning against the counter top.

“s’okay.” 

you awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, arms folded as you stared off into space. natasha took this opportunity to really get a look at you.

she could see the outlining of a bruise on the side of your cheek, and judging by the size, you had to have taken a pretty bad hit. there were also a few bruises around your neck as if someone had tried to choke you. 

she bit her lip, wincing internally at the thought of you getting choked so violently that it left marks as dark as the nail polish natasha once used as a teenager. it hurt her even worse knowing that this person was supposed to love you. 

you caught natasha’s gaze and shifted yourself further away from her. she tried not to frown, but you saw the slight downward movement of her eyebrows before she had a chance to look unbothered. 

“the soup, tasha. it’s going to burn.” you reminded her. 

“ah!”

she stirred the liquid content with a spoon and brought it to her mouth. “just right.” you watched her pour a safe amount into a bowl before giving you a spoon she hadn’t wrapped her lips around.

“lets go sit down so you can eat, yeah?” 

you followed her like a lost little kid back into the living room. if it hadn’t been for such serious issues at hand, natasha would’ve commented on how adorable you looked clutching the bowl with two hands while you unconsciously bit the insides of your cheeks because you were scared of breaking something. 

she gave you time to finish eating. you ate slower than she remembered, but she didn’t think too much of it. the last bite was when natasha when noticed the large scar across your hand. 

(god did she hate herself for not seeing it sooner because what the hell?) 

you moved to go put the dish in the sink, but natasha stopped you, gently grabbing the scarred hand to keep you from leaving. 

“don’t worry about that right now. set it on the coffee table and i’‘ll take care of it when we’re done here.” her voice was soft enough for you to feel safe, an affect only one other person could do. 

natasha didn’t say anything else, she wanted you to feel in control, to feel comfortable enough to talk about it.

the crack of your knuckles could be heard after a few short seconds of silence. there was no reason for you to feel so nervous. it was just natasha after all. she would never hurt you.

(you were brave. you were okay. you can do this.)

“she was so good to me, nat.” the redhead scoffed, but you were quick to defend your now presumed ex. 

“she was! this time i really mean it, and i know that sounds redundant but i would put the love i have for you as a friend, as a sister, on the line.” she seemed to believe you after that. the look in your eyes told her everything she needed to know. 

“what happened?”

your lip started to quiver, “i ruined it.” natasha moved closer to you, wrapping her arms around you so that your body rest against hers. “how’s that?” 

“i can’t stop drinking, couldn’t, and she had to do the right thing for herself.” her grip tightened around your frame. she hated not knowing you were drinking again. the first few times weren’t too bad, but she had a feeling this time was more than she could help with.

“she was so good to me, tasha and i ruined it. i fucking ruined every bit of it because i’m too weak to-”

“stop. do not finish that sentence or else i’m going to give you a sisterly lecture for the next three hours about every good thing that makes you who you are.” her threat came off as a joke, but if needed, natasha would actually hold herself to her own word.

you sighed and visibly deflated, natasha allowing the tiniest smile grace her lips from behind you. 

“what was her name?” your eyes found their way to natasha’s hands and the rings that clung to the base of her fingers. “wanda.”

“how did she treat you? i mean really treat you.”

you fiddled with her rings, twisting them back and forth absentmindedly, “she used to bandage my wounds with like, five layers of gauze, i swear. i always thought she was just being over dramatic, but sometimes the bleeding would even seep through that.” 

your breathing began to slow down. “she would always come when i needed her, whether that be when i blacked out from drinking or if i was sick and needed help taking a bath.”

“she sounds like a good person.”

“she is.” 

natasha hummed, “you really scared me, you know?” you moved to try and face her, but she kept her arm wrapped securely around your torso. “i didn’t hear from you in over half a year and now you’re here. you’re my best friend and i thought you were dead.” there was a crack in her voice. god knows she didn’t want you to see her cry.

(that’s why she held you in place, but most of all because she missed having you close.)

“i’m sorry, tasha...” 

“just don’t ever do that to me again or i will kill you myself.” you rolled your eyes at her reply. “i’m not, i promise.”

you moved off her lap, turning your body so you were face to face with her. “where do i go from here, nat?” 

she thought dor a second, “can you make it through tonight without a drink? or will withdrawls be too bad?”

you paused, surely you hadn’t gotten to the point where withdrawls were as serious as you’d seen in all the medical shows and documentaries. “i think i’ll be good.”

natasha nodded in approval, “do you want help?”

it was the question of the century for you. the answer should be a simple yes, but it never failed to amaze you how much weight could be carried behind a three letter word. there was a chance for you though, something you might not ever get again. and honestly, natasha’s heart couldn’t take another relapse like this. eight months of not knowing if you were alive or not was bad enough, she couldn’t imagine not seeing her dearest friend for the rest of her life.

“yes,” you exasperated, “yes, i wan’t help.”

[yoditorian]

The Pancake King

javier peña/reader

yeah i know i said i had no more wip space but then i had a headcanon idea which turned into a note on my phone which turned into,,,,this, which might turn into something else but for now it’s a standalone oneshot that can be read as a sequel to this

main masterlist

word count: 2.5k // warnings: some swears, unnamed boyfriend cheating, food, work stress mentions

This week really, really doesn’t want to give you a break. 

The mountain of paperwork waiting for signatures and stamps only seems to get bigger, obscuring half the office from your little corner desk. Every time you have a moment to get through a few of them, you’re pulled into somebody else’s office for a meeting, or someone needs you to double check one of their own forms, or you have to clean up somebody else’s mess. As usual. 

And then there’s your life outside of work, if you can even call it that. But your air conditioner is broken and the mailman keeps giving your letters to everyone but you, it seems, and it’s too fucking hot during the day to have to deal with any of this shit. 

So you took the day, called in with a fake-cold and promised you’d be back in tomorrow. How much could the office fall apart in just one day? The air conditioning is still broken, but you’d gone out and bought three of the biggest fans you could find. Problem one, sort of solved. The mailman is his own mystery, seemingly vanishing into thin air as soon as you’d spotted him on the sidewalk, at least Connie was in to give you the mail that had gotten mixed up with hers. That, and you’d managed to sneak in some baby cuddles with Olivia. There’s not much you can do about the weather itself, besides wear as little as can be considered publicly decent and pray for the thunderstorm the weather forecast keeps promising is on its way. 

Only, as luck always has it, things get worse. 

You’d called the boyfriend you left back home, just like you do at the same time every Thursday night. And some chirpy woman had answered, introducing herself as his girlfriend. And that was the last straw. 

You can’t even remember what you told her, now. Something about how he could drop the key to your apartment back with your best friend, maybe something along the lines of how he can go fuck himself too. That sounds about right. You’d hung up before she could say anything else. 

It’s just you and the wall now, the television not even good enough company to quiet the stress of literally everything in your life. You’re vaguely aware of your stomach rumbling, although you’re not sure you have the energy to get up and root around in your fridge. You ate the last of the leftovers in there yesterday anyway, and you’re pretty sure everything else involves some kind of preparation. Which you really don’t have the energy for. Sleep, sleep can be your dinner tonight.

Javier and Steve get back from the office at the same time Connie comes trotting down the stairs to leave for a shift. 

“Can one of you check on them?” She asks, pulling on her cardigan to keep off the evening breeze. There’s something in her tone that has Javier’s brow furrowing even further than it usually is, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the Murphys.

“Last time we spoke, I thought they were gonna hit me,” Steve raises his eyebrows in disbelief, a little too dramatically, “This one’s on you, Peña.” 

He’s off up the stairs before Javier can argue that he probably, definitely, is the last on the list of people you want to see if you’re having a bad day. He’s responsible for half the forms waiting on your desk, seemingly doubled over the course of the day. That, and his comforting skills aren’t exactly legendary. Connie, for all her tact, shrugs apologetically at him before she’s leaving too, and he’s left standing in the hall wondering exactly what it is he’s supposed to do now.

He remembers his bad day, the really bad one, a few months ago. How you turned up on his doorstep with homemade nachos and a smile, exactly what he needed before he even knew it himself. He hears his father in his head, waxing poetic about the way that people comfort others is often the way they like to be comforted. And, honestly, who doesn’t like a good meal when everything feels a little bit against them? 

Javier can’t cook, he’s not arrogant enough to pretend that he can make anything off the top of his head. Nor is he certain he has any of the ingredients for anything in the cookbook Steve had bought him as a joke for the Christmas just gone. There is one option though, he just hopes it’s the right one as he starts to pull a frying pan out of the cupboard. 

You’re surprised when there’s a knock at your door and you have to struggle out of your blanket for a minute, your ass numb from sitting on the ground for too long. It’s probably only Connie, checking that you’ve eaten. She’ll see right through your lie but you doubt she’ll push it, only remind you to eat breakfast with a stern look that you know she only pulls out for her most difficult patients. You’re not sure when that privilege extended to you. 

It’s not Connie. 

Javier stands in the light of the hallway, a foil covered plate in his hands, and looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else. You start to wish you hadn’t worn your blanket like a cape to answer the door. 

“I, um-” He can’t seem to pick where to look, eyes settling somewhere to the right of your head before he tries again, “You had a bad day.” 

Oh, oh, he really couldn’t have tried harder. It’s an odd parallel of a moment, months ago, when you barged your way into his apartment with nachos and good intentions. There’s an uncomfortable swell of something right under your lungs and you beg it to stay quiet. He gestures with the plate in his hands, the smell of sugar and sweetness wafting out from underneath it, and your stomach gurgles. The sound pulls a giggle from both of you, and things start to feel a lot more comfortable. 

“Welcome to the pit of despair.” You laugh, gesturing for him to follow you in and toward the kitchen. 

You pull your last two clean forks out of the cutlery drawer as Javier sets the plate down on the kitchen table and reveals whatever it is he spent the time and effort to make. Just for you. 

Pancakes.

And, honestly, you couldn’t imagine anything more Javier. He barely leaves the office, and you’re pretty sure you’ve only ever seen him eat outside of his desk when Connie forces him to come to dinner. You can’t stop the smile that slips onto your face, the first one all week if you’re being honest. 

“What?” He asks, taking the fork you offer out to him and settling down in the chair across from you.

“You made me pancakes?” Your voice is smaller than you expect it, the intention of his actions catches in your throat and makes you a little more emotional than you thought it would. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but thinks better of it when you reach out with your fork and rip a chunk out of the stack of frankly perfect looking offerings. 

And they are perfect. Fluffy and light and sweet and wonderful. An odd juxtaposition to their chef, but you don’t think about it. You don’t think about anything, you sit and eat in silence and try to prolong this one moment of peace for as long as you can. 

It ends sooner than you want it to. Every last crumb devoured between the two of you, and suddenly everything doesn’t seem so bad. Pancakes will do that. 

He’’s gathering up the plate and forks before you can protest, moving wordlessly to tackle the pile of dishes that you’ve been ignoring in your sink for the last couple of days. 

Javier can’t help himself when he spots the stack of dishes behind you. You’ve looked like you’re on the verge of crying since you opened the door and if there’s one chore that’ll reduce someone to tears, it’s doing the dishes. So he doesn’t even think about it, just collects the empty plate and pulls the fork out of your hand and gets to work. 

You’re about to protest, tell him something about how you can deal with it, or that it’s late and he should go home, get some sleep. He knows you well enough, and your face when he turns to look at you over the shoulder as the hot water starts running proves as much. Just as you know the no-nonsense look on his face isn’t one you want to argue with. He waits, watching, for you to rise from the table and shuffle back towards the living room, listens carefully for the sound of you flopping onto the couch, before turning back to the sink and getting to work. 

It’s times like these he wishes he asked more questions, then he might know what prompted you to call out with a cold when you’re clearly the picture of health. Physically, anyway. Although sometimes he thinks you could be all kinds of sick, and that little voice in his head would still tell him you’re pretty. If he knew, or had any kind of hunch, he could help a little more than this. Pancakes and dirty dishes only go so far, although he’s never been great at comforting people beyond his cousins’ scraped knees when they were little. It’s not a case of ignoring any time you’ve opened up about your life outside of work, there’s always some part of his brain ready to soak up your every word like a sponge. Maybe it is as simple as that, maybe it’s just work that has gotten a bit too much. Maybe it’s a combination of things.

The dishes are neatly lined up on the drying rack before he even notices he’s finished, fishing around in the bottom of the sink for a full minute until he realises everything has been washed. 

You’re still sitting on the couch when he comes through to the living room, hands dried and clean. You shuffle up to make room for him, having just dumped yourself unceremoniously in the middle of the cushions, and keep your eyes on the dormant television in front of you. You’re expecting him to say something, to tell you it’ll be okay, or that everything will work itself out, or that it probably won’t seem like a big deal in the morning. He’d be right, it probably won’t. But right now, all you can feel is the weight that settled on your chest as the whole of the past week makes itself comfortable. 

You pull the blanket tighter against you, shoulders straining the thin fabric, as if you could squash all your problems until they disappear. But they only seem to get bigger.

“You remember my boyfriend, back home?” You’re quiet, more so than you had been earlier. As if you’re afraid of the words as you speak them.

He does remember. The guy came down to visit once, only a few weeks after you’d been transferred. Steve had done his best to befriend the guy, where Javier hadn’t extended anything beyond a handshake and a raised eyebrow in your direction. Not that he didn’t like him (he didn’t, still doesn’t, but that’s besides the point), but all Javier really remembers is your disappointment come Monday morning when you’d trudged into the office and told them he’d had to leave early. Work emergency. It had smelt like bullshit then, it smells like bullshit now. Still, he nods, and lets you continue.

“Not only mine, turns out.” It all comes out in one breath, and all he can do is watch as you curl even further into yourself. Scumbag. Sure, Javi’s been around the block a little, or a lot, but he’s never stooped so low as to cheat on anybody. He’s above that, at least. 

The barely audible sniffle from under your blanket pulls him right out of thinking of all the ways he could make this guy’s life hell back home, and he sends a prayer up to whoever’s listening that he won’t make it worse with what he’s about to do. 

A soft tug on the corner of your blanket is the only warning you get, and suddenly you’re being pulled across the length of the couch until you’re half in his lap.

“Javi.” You manage, barely hanging on to your composure. You know he knows that, but you don’t know why he won’t leave you to it. 

The look on your face just about breaks his heart. All big watery eyes and confusion, the nickname you so rarely use sounds so soft whispered in the air between you. You’re already beginning to crumble, if only from the way he’s holding you like you’ll shatter with the slightest breeze. Maybe you will.

It’s the tenderness that gets you, in the end. How he seems to just know what you need, far better than anyone else has in a long time. The weight of his arms around you, gentle but firm, makes it suddenly difficult to breathe past the lump in your throat as the tears start to fall. And Javier holds you through it all. Even though you’re both at an awkward angle and you’re pretty sure his leg is trapped underneath you, he doesn’t budge. It’s easy to forget, alongside your easy camaraderie with Steve, that Javier works with you all day every day too. 

It can’t be more than an hour later that he feels you slump against him and your breathing begins to even out, save for the occasional stray hiccup. Something about the way you’ve snuggled into him, head on his chest and fingers fisted in the soft black t-shirt he reserves for cold nights and bad days. A crack of thunder and sudden downpour of rain jolts you as you sleep, sends you even further into his embrace, and he holds you to him a little tighter. It’s nice, oddly. Even though having you so close makes his heart want to burst right out of his ribcage. 

At least the rain sends a welcome gust of cool air through the open bedroom window, swirling down the hall and mercifully circling around the living room. 

Javier tugs the blanket out from around you, just enough to cover the both of you, and shuffles as much as he dares to try and get comfortable. You need the sleep, and he’s not about to take it from you just for the sake of blood flow in his leg. You barely notice when he settles, comfortable even on your old couch and the weight of a grown human on top of him. His back will kill him in the morning, but you’ll have rested better for it and that’s a small price to pay. 

He tries not to think too hard about what that might mean. 

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @darnitdraco @greeneyedblondie44

[itskatastrophe-x]

Far Off Places (CH 2)

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3

Word Count : 3,022

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

It took a few hours to wake up, but when you did, you sat up in a cold sweat, sharp pains shooting through your ribs, legs, and back. Almost three days of walking and running had taken a huge toll on your body. You scrunched your face in pain and shot a hand to your chest, noticing bandages around your arm and hand. That’s when you were very aware of your surroundings and two other figures in your peripheral. You looked at them in shock, their faces mirroring your same expression. You remembered the one with the wings just as you fell to the ground, but this second person you hadn’t seen. How many people were here, you wondered.

You tried to speak but your throat was raw and all that came out were raspy whispers and coughs. The one with wings looked at the taller one and motioned to a doorway. The taller one nodded and walked away swiftly, coming back seconds later with a bottle of water and another one full of a sparkling pink liquid. He handed you both of them and advised to drink the pink one first and wash it down with the water, explaining it was a health potion. You obliged and gulped it as fast as you could, almost gagging from the taste, and quickly chugged and swished the water after, feeling the effects almost instantly. You thanked them both and handed the bottles back to the boy and he took them back through the doorway, leaving you and the winged man alone. You fiddled with the bandages on your arms for a moment and cleared your throat a couple times before finally speaking.

“Where am I? Who are you? Thank you for the help.” The man lightly chuckled and took off his hat, his hair falling to frame his face. “My name is Philza, but you can call me Phil. The other one is Ranboo, he’s our friend that lives over by the mountain.” His voice had a very thick accent, unlike the boy, Ranboo. You nodded and he continued. “You’re outside of the Dream SMP. I live with Ranboo here with Technoblade. He goes by Techno. He’s currently asleep and we’re not sure when he’ll wake up. You’ve seen our dogs,” he chuckles out, drawing a smile onto your face. You scratch the back of your neck and heat makes its way to your face. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Your dogs made quite the ruckus.” He smiles fondly at you and waves you off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. We’re normally up around that time anyway. Days have been pretty restless lately, what with all the wars and such going on.”

He notices the worry on your face and goes on. “We tend to stay out of things. We’ve been involved too many times and we all like to keep things peaceful. These cabins are essentially a safe place. No one really knows where we live and we’d like to keep it that way. You aren’t here as a spy are you?” You shake your head and look down at your hands, bruises and cuts litter your body, but are slowly fading thanks to the potion from earlier. “No, I uh…” You clear your throat and steel yourself to speak more. “I… I travelled for three days to get here. My homeland was destroyed and I have nowhere to go.”

You look up at the man, the younger boy now standing next to him, staring at you in wonder and concern, the same concern seen in Phil’s eyes. “I’m still not sure how much I can trust anyone so I won’t say much more, but I lost my home and everyone I know. I’ve come a long way and I need somewhere safe. The person that murdered and burned my home could still be out there, and I need help. I know we’re strangers but I hope to trust you two more. You seem like nice people and, if you’re willing, I’d like to find some help some day to go back and figure out what happened.”

They both stare at you for a while until Phil smiles politely and nods. “Of course! Do you have a name you’d like us to call you?” You think for a minute, not being able to come up with a name to go by so as to keep your real name hidden. Ranboo speaks up a minute later. “We could call you Faer, if that’s ok. As a name it means Traveler.” You smile brightly at the small  name and nod. “I guess that fits, seeing as I am technically a traveler now. I didn’t do much of that back home, so sure, let’s go with that.” They both nod in unison. “Faer,” you say to yourself. A fitting name, short and sweet and it rolled off the tongue nicely. Maybe one day when you knew you could trust them you’d tell them your real name, but for now that nickname would do.

They gave you some supplies, a bed, and some armor and better clothes after you got some rest and pointed you to a good spot to set up your own little home. They also gave you a map of the surrounding areas and gave you a rundown of some of the people that lived in the main cities, but there were so many that you forgot half of them. Ranboo followed you out to pick a spot to settle down, idly chatting about how life was in the area, who to stay away from, where all the farms were, and just general stuff to pass the time. Eventually you ran out of wood so you both ventured into the woods to chop some more.

After a couple hours, your small abode was looking good. It wasn’t anything fancy or as big as Techno or Phil’s houses, but it did the job. All you had to do yet was finish putting walls up inside, decorating, and making it pretty outside. You added some fences to give yourself a front yard, placed torches to liven up the place, and also made a small deck out front facing the aforementioned houses. It took a couple more hours of work to get the inside done, but everything was done around sunset and you were ready to pass out. Phil came over close to the end and said Techno was awake and they would be over soon to welcome you in. You were grateful to have such a warm welcome, but you were still on edge. How well could you trust these people? Sure, they gave you plenty of things and were friendly, but it felt like they were hiding something or were keeping information away from you. The way they would shirk off certain questions or avoid subjects completely was weird. You assumed it was because they didn’t trust you either, so you shrugged it off. You were a stranger to them. A person that ended up passing out on their land, giving them no info on who you were or where you came from. You were lucky you ended up here, though. Hearing some of the stories Ranboo told you made you glad this was the closest on your journey.

Ranboo returned, after leaving to clean himself up, with some flowers, a diamond sword, and a couple emeralds to get you started. After chatting with him for a couple minutes you heard a knock on your front door, signaling the return of Phil. You hopped off of your seat and opened the door to greet him. He had a couple dishes of various kinds of foods piled into his arms, so you gladly took some from him. What you were not prepared for was Techno. You didn’t know what to expect, as Phil had given no description, but the tall half pig, half human standing behind the winged man with a disgruntled look on his face, flowing red cape, and glinting golden crown was absolutely something you weren’t expecting. I mean, you weren’t one to judge, you just had no clue what to expect. Phil walked past you and asked Ranboo for help setting everything up, leaving you with the large man. He gave you a huff and walked past you, cape gently hitting you in the shins as the wind from him walking pushed it out behind him. You stood there, slightly in shock with the door open, as he made himself at home in your new living room. You closed the door and turned around to see him with his head hanging off the back of the couch, eyes closed and arms crossed. He did just wake up, maybe he’s still tired.

The night was going well in your eyes. You and Ranboo were getting along well and you could see why he was saying Phil was very much like a powerful father figure. Techno joined in on some conversations occasionally when he thought he had something to say. You asked him some simple questions but he refused to answer anything. You chalked it up to him not trusting you at all so you let it slide and shrugged it off. Phil had nudged him or elbowed him a few times if he thought he was getting out of line, but you waved it off saying you weren’t bothered. Honestly you weren’t bothered. You had heard worse in your courts back at home, so little phased you at this point. Thinking about your home had apparently made you zone out, because you were brought back to real life when you heard your new name being called. Ranboo had shook your shoulder lightly, concern etched onto his and Phil’s faces, amusement and curiosity finally glinting in Techno’s eyes. You laughed lightly and put a hand to your face, feeling wetness on your cheeks. When had you started crying?

“Faer, are you ok? What’s wrong?” Ranboo’s hand retracted and he stared at you with intense focus, very clearly concerned. You looked down at your empty plate, long forgotten from the hours before during your conversations. You contemplated telling them the truth, second guessed yourself, then shook your head and covered your face with both hands, letting out a short sigh. You knew you would have to tell them eventually, and you supposed now was as good a time as any. You started off at your lineage, being born into a royal family, being sheltered since you were young, your training and lessons. Everything shortened into smaller stories to keep things simplified. Everything leading up to your parents inevitable deaths and you becoming the ruler of a whole kingdom.

Techno had perked at the words “royal family”, finally becoming invested in something and listening closely, asking questions every once in a while. Ranboo and Phil sat in shock as Techno had basically taken over the conversation, you pouring out details as he asked. You weren’t sure why exactly you were letting him get so much out of you, but all of them seemed to relax the more you talked about your past, until finally you reached the downfall of your oversized city. Ranboo had gotten more invested in this, and seemed to want to figure out how it happened as well. He said he was a fan of theories and small details that seemed to be hidden, so he agreed to helping you find the arsonist.

They asked for coordinates so you got up, grabbed all the plates to take them to the kitchen, found your journal, and brought it back to where everyone was sitting. Ranboo’s eyes lit up as he watched you flip through the pages and you caught onto his gaze and smiled. He opened his own bag and brought out a journal silently, smiling the whole time, mentioning how he kept his own journals. You made a mental note to try to ask about them at another point as he put his away. You finally flipped to the page holding info about your kingdom and pulled out a map from between the pages as well, flipping them to face Techno and Phil. They looked over everything and you watched intently as they pointed and flipped, exchanging words every few seconds.

“We can just make a portal,” Techno finally grunts out. “Most of our locations we stay in have portals to each and highways connecting to the main portal by the community house. The only thing we would worry about is having you out and about. Some of the people here… Aren’t so trustworthy.” You think back to your conversation with Ranboo and nod. “Yeah, Ranboo said something about an Egg? What’s that all about?” They all go quiet and you feel like you’ve asked the wrong question. “I’m assuming it’s nothing good, so I won’t press anymore, but if it’s unavoidable then you’ll have to tell me eventually.” Phil speaks up from his side of the table. “Well, all we should tell you now is to not touch the vines, and if you hear anything to let us know right away. Don’t trust any bad thoughts.” You were taken back by that but hesitantly croaked out an ‘ok’ and left it there.

You all spent the last hour together coming up with a plan to get you to your kingdom, what you could look for, and who else you might be able to trust. The date was decided to be set for a week from the present day and you would find two more people, Karl and Sapnap. Ranboo said you would get along well with them and they were people they knew could help that had a lot of knowledge. Karl was a master at problem solving and a time traveler (though he still didn’t know exactly how to control it and only used it when he had to), and Sapnap was born in fire so he knew it well, meaning he might be able to know something from the wreckage. After everything was said and done, you were waving goodbye as they all crossed the snow covered field to their separate homes.

You shut the door and sighed, leaning your back against the solid wood plank, your head also falling back to rest on it, eyes closing as you listened to your breathing and heartbeat. The gentle crackling from the fireplace and torches calmed your nerves more as you pushed off the door and made your way to the kitchen to extinguish some of the lights. After cleaning up and tidying everything, you looked over the living room once more and smiled to yourself, finding your way up the stairs and into your bathroom to wash off and get ready to sleep.

All this alone time gave you time to think about the plans, and the more you thought, the more you doubted this person named Sapnap. You were told he had some kind of fire ability, and seeing as most of your kingdom was set on fire, you didn’t think he was very trustworthy. No matter how far away this place was, he was still suspicious to you. I mean, what were you supposed to think when you got to a random location and on the first day upon arrival you were told that there was someone here with a fire ability? Were you just supposed to trust this stranger immediately, just like that? You didn’t like that thought at all, but you trusted Ranboo and Phil enough already that you figured you should give this Sapnap guy a chance.

And with those last few thoughts, you finished settling in to sleep, finally in a proper bed after three long days. The thick blanket and the flickering light of the last embers in the hearth helped you to drift off to sleep. You made a mental note to write in your journal when you wake up, since you were exhausted and could barely keep your eyes open.

Hot. Burning. Loud crashing. Your eyes snapped open and you were finally aware of your surroundings. Your kingdom around you, burning to the ground, craters dotted the ground. You were surrounded by fire. You screamed out in pain and searched for a safe way out. Why was this happening? No. You knew the answer, you just had to remember. Right? Right! Dreams. You could solve things using your dreams, being thrown back into the middle of situations to see what went wrong. To look over missed details. The only downside was the fact that all your senses still worked. It was like time travelling but without all the paradoxical consequences. Essentially just to play detective.

You ran through the blaze, trying to find a safe path while also looking for clues. There was nothing but destruction, burnt remains, and the smell of burning wood. You finally made it to a clearing where the plaza in front of the castle was, and there in the distance between all the red flames and black smoke, there was a flash of color. It was fast, so you almost missed it, but it was there. Who was that? With that thought alone, you were sprinting in the same direction, not caring about the flames that would kiss your skin or the ember covered logs that would catch your legs. You needed this lead, no matter what kind of pain you went through.

You spent what felt like hours running around. Your legs felt like they were being torn apart, your skin was burning and blistered in a lot of spots, and it was getting too hard to breathe. There was no sign of the green that you saw earlier, so you gave into your body and fell to the brick walkway under you, the rough texture stinging your skin. You closed your eyes, breathing heavily, hoping you would wake up soon. Then you heard it. The sound of feet on the pavement ahead of where you laid. Your body hurt as you lifted your head, vision going fuzzy and dark as the person neared. Green.

[herglowinggirl]

Hello, familiar anon here, I didn't ask the question about an SOK ending where Yun lives and gains redemption. I also wouldn't mind having my own tag. I haven't found any other evidence of Yun shipping Kyoshi and Rangi outside of "The Boy From Makapu". How does Kyoshi view Yun later in her life( up to the first year after "The Meeting", creating Kyoshi Island nearly 25 years later, the last years of her life)? Would Kyoshi ever mention or talk about Yun after the events of The Shadow of Kyoshi?

hello! and yes I have some thoughts on this and how it would impact the advice Kyoshi gave to Roku and Aang. this got long but I’d love to break down parts of it to write fic, which I think I will do and perhaps post before Kyoshi Fortnight. But I digress, it’s long enough that I have decided to use subtitles. If anything skip to the end about the advice she gave Roku and Aang I think it’s most relevant to what I want to say and also my favorite part.

what I talk about under the cut: the ways I believe yun’s death would impact kyoshi’s actions after tsok and what the advice she gave aang and roku actually means (my thoughts on “only justice will bring peace” means)

would kyoshi talk about yun during her lifetime?

Yes. First off, it would be impossible to avoid him in the political landscape, because it is mentioned that he passed lots of judgements and signed treaties, ect. Although Kyoshi has grown in her leadership style and it’s turned a little (a lot) anti-establishment, she would still need to deal with the fallout of Yun not being the Avatar, because there would be a need to re-sign treaties and settle disputes with people seeking to take advantage of others now that the Avatar has “changed” would have to be dealt with and in tandem, Yun’s legacy.

But also, in a duology that features grief, I find it a natural continuation of the narrative that Yun would be mourned. You don’t stop knowing or loving someone after they pass, and I feel like mourning all of Yun—the boy he was, where he came from, his legacy, the decisions he made, the impact he had on the people around him, even how he hurt people—is only natural and is slightly unavoidable. I think Kyoshi mourns all of her deceased loved ones. 

Just, like the concept of this: she’s always hated pai sho but now when she faces a board in her gut and in her throat things feel wrong because it reminds her of what Yun had to do to survive. A breeze smells like the flour and air Kelsang sent into her face the moments before everything changed. She collects pebbles that Lek would’ve liked. Rangi brings her fire lilies for an anniversary and she starts crying. She sings songs with Wong that were her parent’s favorites that coincidentally, Kelsang knew too.

community in grief and kyoshi’s relationships

He was Rangi’s friend, too. Auntie Mui and Hei-Ran are sure to mourn him in their own ways. In tSoK Kyoshi calls her team Avatar a group of contradictions and misfits and in his way, Yun was too. The false Avatar. What a title! 

A continuation of the concept: Rangi and Kyoshi remind each other of him every day for a while, swapping stories about him when it gets to be too much, making eye contact when they can hear his voice making light of something stupid an official has said. Hei-Ran makes her do drills she made Yun do. Auntie Mui makes his favorite dish on his birthday that they do not pass in silence, because then what would they be, that group of misfits, to forget another outcast? If they don’t mourn the boy from Yokoya who will mourn them, or who would’ve mourned them if they hadn’t been so lucky? Who will care for the beggars and orphans of the world if not the Avatar who was once one of them and her companions? In a way, the retribution and pain of it all is justice for the life that Kyoshi took. Like, there’s just so much to unpack in the way she says “Was I right about anything at all? What will they say about me? Avatar Kyoshi, who killed her friend because she couldn’t save him?” But I don’t think her guilt would silence her. 

That being said, Yun was fundamentally a victim of a system that failed him. The same one that failed Kyoshi. In another way, her actions are justice on a world that failed her and her best friend and the similarities they shared, and she’s able to take those actions because of the way that Yun impacted her, for better or for worse. So yes, I think during her lifetime, she would speak of Yun and who he was, not letting people forget the ways they (and she) failed him and how easily everyone wants to forget their failure. It brings me to the way she was so angry with the Earth Kingdom establishment for discarding him and trying to hide history away. I don’t think she’d ever do that, even if she did...uh, dispatch him.

kyoshi, immortality, and her role as an avatar

I’d like to turn to two passages:

Kyoshi: “The way you describe it, you’d have to decide what version of yourself you’d be stuck as, forever.”

Lao Ge: “Exactly! Those who grow, live and die. The stagnant pool is immortal, while the clear flowing river dies an uncountable number of deaths.”

and

In the future, perhaps, she’d become finalized like carved stone. It would be easier to deal with the world then. She could only hope.

[...]

She still had to be careful not to lose her balance and fall. Kyoshi kept her eyes focused on her difficult path, sometimes stumbling but making sure to catch herself, taking one step at a time.

This isn’t directly related to what I think she would say, but more about how she lets her experiences, and therefore, her experiences and relationship with Yun, affect who she is. Here, F.C. Yee is detailing the person we see in her cameo in A:tLA. It’s a testament to her growth, yes, but also to how she lived so long. She’s allowed to grow now, while she’s young and still learning. But eventually Kyoshi’s growth will wane, leaving us with the iron woman we saw in A:tLA. 

Remember when I said I would call F.C. Yee a sap for the very last Kyoshi POV line? It’s the last sentence in my second excerpt, is that Kyoshi is allowing herself make mistakes. It’s pretty obviously a little deeper than the concept of walking down a slope: She became one of the most revered Avatars, we know how her story ends, if not lots of the in-betweens, but F.C. Yee tells us right here in that sentence. She changed and she learned. 

I think, however, that eventually she had to pick a place to stop in order to stop aging. If I had to pick a point where she became “immortal” I’d pick Rangi’s peaceful and timely death surrounded by her loved ones on Yokoya (not Kyoshi Island since I’m going to maintain that her A;tLA cameo was “immortal” Kyoshi) and I think Lao Ge killed her—or at least convinced her to let go.

further thoughts on her longevity: rangi’s role and future

Ok before anybody comes into my inbox like “um zey herglowinggirl I need you to know that actually Rangi also lived to 230 😌″ because I understand the sentiment it’s more like here’s what I’d like to discuss: Kyoshi can’t be immortal around Rangi because Rangi is in so many ways her catalyst for growth. First off, it would be completely out of character for Rangi to be immortal, because she’s constantly moving and being and feeling and judging and that changes her. Positive jing. And Lao Ge says it: “those who grow, live and die.” Rangi believes in the best and strives for the best, for perfection. For Kyoshi to freeze herself and become immortal, that would require picking an imperfect state. And as we know, Sei’naka women do not accept imperfection 😤. 

Although Rangi promises to always be by Kyoshi’s side, I think in the latter years of Kyoshi’s live it’s more like the impact that Rangi has had on her in that frozen state. That voice of Rangi’s is part of Kyoshi in those years. However, without Rangi, it is unlikely that Kyoshi will always or commonly choose to act on it. It’s stated multiple times throughout the novels that Rangi is Kyoshi’s center and that she doesn’t know who she’d be without Rangi, but I think the logical conclusion is immortal. With Rangi’s death she becomes her own center by stopping her growth; with Rangi’s death she just becomes...that stone she was talking about, where it does get easier to make decisions because you’re not striving to constantly change and grow. It’s almost a coping mechanism, if you will. Because Kyoshi is more than Rangi, can function without Rangi, it’s just not necessarily pretty.

lao ge’s role and future

Which brings me to my “in my personal version of canon Lao Ge kinda maybe killed Kyoshi” point. Rangi is in no way Kyoshi’s morality, but she is very much the idealistic ‘better’ half. With this catalyst of hope and change gone, I think back to the creation of the Dai Li—it very much sounds to me like something Jianzhu would do. Kyoshi, who had previously been the breakdown of negotiations, created a secret op police force? 

I think the moment Kyoshi started being the establishment, the moment she was the band-aid instead of the solution (much like Yun was, hint hint) Lao Ge would’ve paid her a visit. Either this or the creation of the Dai Li created a catalyst for perhaps an existential crisis, perhaps just being tired, perhaps simply knowing what is best...Kyoshi is, and always will be, a sworn criminal who cannot uphold the law, only her own judgements. She is both the law and the breaking and bending of it, and when she loses this balance when Rangi falls from her side and she becomes her own rock I think it would swing her away from her center, and this is where she becomes immortal. Eventually, it would become enough of an issue for people to intervene and tell her that her time as an Avatar is coming to an end. 

advice to future avatars

This is my favorite point and I’ll tie it back to Yun in just a second. I have posted about thinking about the impact of Yun’s death on Kyoshi and how that would’ve impacted her legacy and the advice she gave Roku and Aang before. Honestly what strikes me is how proud Kyoshi would be of Aang. The way that each Avatar must learn to forge their own way and become their own person and what their era needs, balancing themselves, is something so lovely. I think Kyoshi would’ve absolutely loved how Aang took the advice of his predecessors and said “no, I know what would be better for me,” and I think post-tSoK Kyoshi, who has learned she has to forge her own way and style as a leader, would love and be so proud of him for that. 

However, that doesn’t mean that her advice doesn’t have weight. I think mainly her “immortal” phase would perhaps have an impact on the way Yun impacts her advice. I think “only justice will bring peace” also speaks to the finality of death. Just like immortality, death keeps growth from happening. “only justice will bring peace” is also a nod to the way you must learn to cope with your actions and the way you feel about them. It’s also about Aang’s inner peace, which is something I don’t think I’ve ever seen mentioned. Everyone always wants to talk about what he should’ve done and how Kyoshi was right because she told Aang about her choice to let Chin die, but I think she actually guided him to the idea that you should be ok with yourself. To be confident in what you do and take up responsibility for your actions. Kyoshi wasn’t telling him murder was good. She was telling him she owned up to her actions and chose to make those decisions as an Avatar. To me, this finality speaks of growth after Yun’s death and the end of tSoK. She has grown and then frozen, but that means she has changed.

And although I don’t have an answer for what advice she might’ve given Roku, I think it’s a good way to interpret this. The only thing keeping Kyoshi from being honest about Yun’s death is the fact that Zoryu has “Yun” locked up. I think this is likely one of her biggest regrets, that she cannot be honest and responsible for something that weighs so heavily on her soul. This, I think, guides her advice. Only justice will bring peace. Now that I’ve thought it out, perhaps it wasn’t Lao Ge, and perhaps it was the idea that Yun had never been done justice and perhaps that turmoil never changed, which made her long-lived but not quite immortal. She cannot quite know the peace of death nor of life.

I think she must’ve told Roku that no matter what, he must accept the consequences of what he does. He’s not willing to loose that friendship and I think Kyoshi would’ve understood that, and the questions Roku would’ve had to pose himself as an Avatar. That is Kyoshi’s advice. Only justice, true justice in the form of accountability and self-actualization as a leader, will allow you to make good decisions. The acceptance of this: that whatever he does, he must be willing to accept it’s legacy, learn from it, and teach the next Avatar just as she let Yun’s death affect her leadership and what she taught. And I think that’s probably incredibly poetic, even if I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. 

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (5)

A/N: I’m sorry for this being late, and thank y’all for being okay with that and not wanting to kill me. Come chat to me about this chapter after you read! I wanna hear what y’all think.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Smut, some ass slappin’, lots of cursing, bad attitudes... So, the usual.

Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pierre swore that you were full of shit when you said you wouldn’t fuck him again. But, it’d been two weeks since that little rendezvous in the bathroom and you hadn’t so much as looked at him since. In fact, you stopped showing up whenever the boys hung out which was a red flag all on its own. 

Each night that he inevitably ended up going home alone, he passed Charlie’s door wondering if you were in there with him, tangled in the sheets, faking another orgasm. His mind wandered to you and the sounds you made as he fucked you. How sweet they were and how clear it was that you didn’t have to fake with him. Admittedly, he thought about that a bit too much and he wondered if you thought about it too. He hoped you did. The idea of that night living rent free in your head was too good not to fantasize about.  

After a weekend of away games, Pierre returned home on Sunday night and found himself slowing as he passed Charlie’s door once again.

His dogs greeted him as he entered the apartment and he fed them before slipping down the hall to wash the weekend away in his own shower. Again, his mind wandered to thoughts of you as he massaged shampoo and conditioner into his scalp. And, despite his growing erection, he tried to drown the thoughts with the suds until, finally, he had to make the water temperature colder to shock it out of his system. 

When he finally stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist to continue through his routine. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when an unusual sound floated through his apartment. He peaked out the door to check if it was the dogs, but they were both already laying in bed waiting for him. He turned the faucet off and stood still. 

“Pierre, fuck.”

His eyes went wide and he listened to the moans as reality crashed over him. He couldn’t believe it. You’d been so cocky, so clear that this would never happen again, but it was your voice that he heard moaning his name through the vents of his apartment building. 

Check mate.

---

You truly didn’t want Charlie past the sex, but still you stayed in bed with him overnight and snuck out in the early morning. You never planned on it, and you really never cared for it to happen, but it always did. The moment his arms wound around you and tugged you against his chest, you were done for simply because it filled a void. It’d been a long time since you’d been held intimately in a way that didn’t involve your legs being wide open. So, you just let it happen.

You knew you had to draw the line, though. Because why would you settled for post-sex cuddles when you could hardly stand the guy? Why did you stay over when you found yourself sneaking off to his bathroom to finger yourself to the thought of his neighbor fucking you over a bathroom sink?

You couldn’t believe you actually stooped that low and you were thankful Charlie didn’t wake up to hear Pierre’s name fall from your lips. It was a shock even to yourself when you said it because in the two weeks since the bathroom, you hadn’t thought about it. Then again, you were avoiding the topic completely and now you were just a wall apart from him.

You didn’t stop yourself after you said it, though. You let your mind wander to the way his hands felt on your skin and the dirty words he grunted in your ear, and the way you felt with his cum dripping down your thighs. After your orgasm subsided and you came crashing down to Earth, you realized that even the thought of Pierre could make you cum when Charlie couldn’t at all.

When you slipped from Charlie’s apartment that morning, you were determined to put it behind you once again. But then you ran into Pierre in the elevator. Again. 

You felt your stomach plummet at the sight of him.

“Morning,” he greeted as you entered and hit the lobby button that was already illuminated. He gave you the once over, eyes fixed on the men's sweatshirt draped over your body. He repeated, “Good morning.” “It’s too early for you to be smiling at me like that. What do you want?”

“I knew these walls are paper thin, but apparently so are the vents,” he murmured. Your body ran cold. “Next time you find yourself having to sneak off to his bathroom to get yourself off to the thought of me, just come next door. I can take care of you, you know that.”

“Oh, fuck me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m offering.”

“Pierre, just drop it,” you grumbled, fingers pressing the bridge of your nose as if to relieve a headache before it even came on. You looked back up at him when you were met with silence and glared. “Don’t you ever fantasize about shit you shouldn’t? It’s not a big deal.”

“Nope,” he answered, popping the ‘p’. “And if you’re referring to us having sex in a bar bathroom, I haven’t thought about it even for a minute. Until I heard you moaning my name and I thought, ‘I should be a good friend and offer her my services again’.”

“We’re not friends.”

“No, we’re not,” he spoke. “I’ll correct myself.” He faced you, all cocky and smiling, shoulder leaned up against the wall beside you. “If she can’t stop thinking about my cock, I might as well offer her my services again.”

The elevator dinged, signaling that it’d reached the lobby, and Pierre stepped away.

“I already told you it’s never going to happen again.”

“Let me know when you change your mind.” 

---

“Hands off!” you yelped as soon as you turned into the kitchen. Seth and Josh were standing at the counter, fingers picking at the meal you’d been slaving over for the last hour. You shooed them away with the dish towel that was resting over your shoulder and they jumped away, giggling. “You two are awful.”

“We’re starving, YN.”

“And you won’t be in about fifteen minutes,” you said. “Now, move.”

Seth made himself scarce with one more lunge towards the food and though you whacked him with the towel once more, he still got away with another string bean.

“Thanks for making dinner,” Josh said, leaning back against the counter as you shuffled about the kitchen with more seasonings. “The boys were all out of groceries, me included.”

“Well, you’re leaving for a roadie, so I was honestly kind of expecting you all to show up at my door,” you murmured. “Grab some plates for me?”

There was a rhythm to your make-shift team dinners, so he knew where everything went for serving purposes. The boys raiding your kitchen the day before a long road trip was a common occurrence.

Josh started grabbing plates from the cabinet and as soon as they were stacked neatly on the counter, his phone began to ring. He stepped away slightly and answered. Pierre’s voice ripped through the kitchen.

“Yo, do you wanna grab sushi?”

His voice sent a chill down your spine, so you busied yourself with the dishes.

“Oh, sorry, bro,” he murmured. “I just ate at YN’s.”

He groaned loudly and as Josh turned the camera to show you, you flipped it off. He smiled when he saw you, “YLN, spare me a plate, would you?”

“You can starve, Dubois.”

Pierre laughed it off, and Josh spoke to him a few moments more until you signaled for the boys to come in and he said goodbye. They served themselves and shuffled out to the dining room table that was only ever used when they came by. 

When you finally settled down with them at the table, they were already talking over each other, laughing at a story that one of them was telling.

“What are you all laughing about like pre-teen boys?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Boone teased, “It’s about PL.”

You resisted a heavy roll of the eyes.

“You’ve piqued my interest, do tell.”

The sarcasm was evident in your tone but Boone launched into the story regardless of the face it was clear you didn’t care about the story involving Pierre. At least, outwardly. 

“We’re just ragging on him, taking bets on whether or not he’s going to get a free show tonight,” Boone laughed. Your blood ran cold and you snapped your head up from where you were looking at your plate. 

“What?” It took everything in you to keep your voice even as you furrowed your brows, attempting to mask the panic in your expression. 

“Apparently the vents at Pierre’s place are as thin as the walls because he heard some girl’s moans coming into his bathroom a few nights ago,” Seth said, speaking through laughter. 

“He said she sounded like she was enjoying herself,” Boone added, only making your jaw clench tighter. Josh snickered to himself, “And he enjoyed himself.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, come on, YN,” Seth sighed, like she was stupid or something, but when he saw she was serious, he laughed. “He jerked off after.”

You weren’t sure if you responded to that revelation, maybe a soft ‘oh’ before one of the other guys jumped in to comment on it, but you couldn’t remember. It felt like you blacked out the moment it was said.

All week, you were embarrassed that Pierre heard you, and it was made worse when he said he wasn’t also thinking of you. But he was lying, because of course he would be, and now you wanted to kill him for making you feel so… vulnerable. 

---

As soon as everyone was gone, you marched out to your car and began driving in the direction of Charlie’s apartment building. Except this time, you weren’t going to see him. You marched into the building, up to their floor, and all the way to Pierre’s front door. You didn’t hesitate once before knocking at his door, and he didn’t hesitate in pulling it open.

“Why did I know you were going to come over?”

“You fucking lied to me,” you said, jabbing a finger into his chest. He took a step back and you followed as you spoke. “You made me think I was crazy.”

“You are.”

“No, fuck you,” you barked. “You were all ‘I don’t think about you’ and ‘You gotta get over it’, but you jerked it to my moans the other night, you asshole.”

“Care to come inside so we don’t alert your boy toy?” 

Pierre stepped aside and let you into his apartment. You glared at him as he locked the front door and headed into the kitchen, assuming you’d just follow him, and of course, you did. He noticed the tupperware in your hand then and smirked.

“You brought me dinner, too, sweetheart?”

“I poisoned it,” you growled, deadpan. He laughed and took the leftovers from your hand to slide them into the fridge before returning to the pulled out stool at the counter. There was a plate resting in front of him with some sushi rolls, and he continued eating happily while you stood in the doorway watching. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” You snapped, arms crossed over your chest as you watched him all too contently eating his dinner. 

“What is there to say?”

“What is there to say?” you repeated, voice lowering as you glared fixed on him. His hands faltered as he brought another sushi roll to his lips and you could tell you had him right where you wanted him. “Admit that you haven’t been able to stop thinking about fucking me in the bathroom either.”

He turned on the stool to face you with a look of confidence and threw your words from the elevator right back at you, “Don’t you ever fantasize about shit you shouldn’t? It’s not a big deal. Right, YN?”

You rolled your eyes and tossed a curse his way before turning out of the kitchen to match towards the door. Pierre was hot on your heels, discarding his dinner plate with a clatter in the sink before he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled you back to him.

“Be honest about what you want,” he spoke, voice low, eyes dark. His free hand curled around the base of your throat and he nudged your chin up with his thumb. “You want me to fuck you? We don’t have to like each other to fuck, angel.” He paused. “Is that what you want? Say it and we can both get what we want.”

“Pierre.”

“Say the words and I’m yours.”

“Fuck me.”

“Good girl.”

His lips met yours in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, his hands all over your body, and he lifted you to wrap your legs around his waist so he could carry you down the hall. Your back hit his mattress moments later, hair fanned out below your head as he kissed your neck, only detaching his lips from your neck as he peeled your shirt from your body and took his with it. He didn’t spend much time on foreplay, both of you already feeling revved up from weeks without touching each other. 

After stripping you of the rest of your clothes, Pierre flipped you onto your stomach and placed his hand on the back of your neck to press you down against the mattress. It trailed along your spine until it finally curled around your hip, the other gripped the other side and he tugged your ass up to pull it flush against the sweats he was wearing. 

Goosebumps rose along your skin beneath his fingertips and he smiled to himself, shaking his head in awe as he admired your naked body in front of him. He was thankful he’d flipped you so you couldn’t see the way he looked at you. It felt like he couldn’t get enough and he desperately didn’t want you to know. 

You wiggled your ass, beckoning him to do something, and his palm came down hard on it. You lurched forward with a filthy moan. 

“Oh, fuck,” you sighed out, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you. He ran his knuckles along the mark he left on your ass. 

“You like that?”

You hummed an affirmative sound and he leaned down to leave a trail of kisses from your tailbone to your shoulders. He shuffled behind you and you heard the sound of his pants hitting the floor, then felt him hard against your ass. 

“Spread your legs,” he spoke. You did as you were told and he shifted closer to you, head of his cock brushing along your pussy lips. The sound of a condom wrapper tearing filled the room and he let out a deep breath as he rolled it over his member.

He wrapped his hand around his cock and slid it along your folds. He watched the tension in your back as your muscles constricted and your hands gripped the sheets again in preparation for his entrance. And then, finally, he was sliding into you with a groan. 

It didn’t take long for him to start railing you into the mattress. As he fucked you, he pressed you onto the bed and listened to you moan and scream as you took his cock. When he finally relieved that pressure on your back, you regained your composure enough to roll yourself back onto his cock and match his thrusts with a desperation of your own. His hands gripped your hips tightly as your ass bounced in front of him and he watched with wide eyes, mesmerized. 

“Taking my cock so well, sweetheart,” he praised.

“You fuck me so good.”

“Better than him?” he asked, pounding into you as he awaited your answer. You nodded, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you stifled more moans. His tone of voice held an animosity you’d never heard from him before, but his cock felt so good that the question was forgotten within seconds.

As he approached his orgasm, he curled around you, hand dropping to your clit to help you catch up to him. His thrusts were erratic and uncontrollable, and he huffed onto your breath as he moaned. 

“Come on,” he coached. “Cum with me.”

You chanted his name as he cursed into your skin. Your legs shook as your own orgasm washed over you and when you both finally came down, he eased himself out of you and rolled onto his back. 

There was a long moment of silence. A looooooong moment. And then you sat up and walked off to the bathroom to pee before gathering yourself in the mirror and retrieving your clothes from the floors of his apartment. 

Pierre was sitting at the edge of his bed with boxers on when you emerged from his bathroom. His head shot up at the sound of you re-entering the room and he watched as you approached the side of his bed to grab your clothes.

“Can you stop staring at me?” you snapped as you slipped into your thong. 

He cracked a smile and looked away, shaking his head in disbelief of your quick switch-up in attitude. He muttered, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, and you’re fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, I really am,” he grunted as he stood. “I’ll be in the living room. Let me know when you’re leaving, I’ll lock up after.”

[jalapeno-princess]

Coffee For Your Head

(He’s so pretty)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst with some fluff and a happy ending 

Word Count: 7.1K

Summary: After an exhausting and frustrating day at work, all you want to do is go home and fall apart in your boyfriend’s arms. However, a comment that is meant to be a joke turns in to a full blown argument between you and Mark; causing you to storm out of your shared apartment. 

A/N: Hey guys, so this week has been pretty shitty. I had to pay $700 to get my car fixed only to have someone steal my muffler (Hawaii is not the paradise everyone paints it out to be) but I’m not letting it get in the way of my life. Anyways, this imagine was inspired by that deathbed coffee for your head song but literally just the first verse (the song is actually so sad). I also have a couple of surprises for you all! The last and final chapter of crazy little thing called love is in the works, and I’ve decided to make a part 2 to “nobody compares to you” by popular request, so stay tuned. I’m also a few followers away from 700 that’s crazy!! Anyways, happy reading!

Never in the four years of your relationship has Mark ever felt like he didn’t want to look at you. Hell, there was never a time he wasn’t looking at you. From the moment Mark first laid his eyes on you, he was captivated by your beauty in ways he has never experienced before. 

Some days, he had to force himself to stop admiring your breathtaking looks so that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. After what took weeks of building up the courage to ask you out on a date, it didn’t take him long to realize that you were just as beautiful on the inside as you were on the outside. He honestly felt as if he was the luckiest man on earth to be the one who was extremely blessed to love you. 

Unfortunately, the two of you had your first actual fight just a few hours prior and he honestly wishes he could go back in time and keep his mouth shut so that the two of you wouldn’t have been in this disheartening situation. Although there were a few times the two of you would disagree and have a couple quarrels here and there, this was the first time you actually stormed out of your shared apartment out of anger and frustration. 

He was well aware that he went too far tonight; Mark knew you like the back of his hand. Just by your posture and the way you slammed your bag down on the counter, he had a feeling something bad must have happened at work. You were a registered nurse at your local hospital and as much as you wish you could say being a nurse was everything you could ever hope and pray it would be; it was quite the opposite. 

Sure, you had the honor of witnessing many miracles such as pregnancies, watching patients win their battles against cancer—just being able to help anyone in need were a few perks that came with being a nurse. However, being a nurse also came with great responsibility. There were lives on the line and just the simplest mistake; giving a patient the wrong medication, scheduling the wrong surgery or assigning the wrong diet could really affect the lives of those you were in charge of. 

Being a nurse was very exhausting; you were constantly on your feet for eight to ten hours a day and there were many people, either the patients or family members of the patients who always felt the need to take out their stress and worry on you. Tonight had been one of the most tiring and stressful days at work and there was nothing more you wanted to do than to change in to your pajamas and fall asleep in your boyfriend’s warm embrace. It was obvious Mark had other plans. 

Normally, whenever you came home so distraught and obviously shaken up, Mark would do whatever he could to comfort you and make you feel better. He didn’t understand what got over him tonight though—what started as a joke about you leaving the dirty dishes from earlier that morning in the sink as his way to cheer you up turned in to hours of yelling at each other and getting at each other’s throats. 

You told him he was a selfish, egotistical asshole who didn’t care about anyone but himself and he called you an aggressive bitch who takes things too seriously. As soon as he saw tears falling from your cheeks while you yanked at your purse and your keys that were still on the kitchen counter before storming outside, Mark was well aware that he fucked up. You weren’t a sensitive person; you did cry occasionally when work could be too much for you to handle, when you felt home sick being 3,000 miles away from your family or if there was a sad scene in a movie the two of you watched together then yeah—you would shed some tears, but it was only natural. 

When you guys did argue—if ever—you did tear up out of irritation; but you never allowed Mark to see how much your little disputes would hurt you because you didn’t want to feel vulnerable. He may have been your boyfriend, but you didn’t want him—or anyone for that matter, taking advantage of how timorous and fragile you were as a person. It took him a while to process that you actually left. He was too focused on the fight; there were so many things he believed he wanted to say to you in the heat of the moment, but he knew it was best that he didn’t. 

Now that he was all alone in the apartment, he felt like complete and utter shit. He knew the entire fight could have been prevented if he had just kept his mouth shut. What came over him that he felt the need to make such a stupid comment? You weren’t all that familiar when it came to California seeing as how you would only go out for work, with friends or with Mark. 

California was different at night; it’s was more dangerous and scarier, even for your boyfriend who has been living there his entire life. Seeing as how your family lived in New York and you hardly made any friends in the couple years of living in the relatively sunny state other than a couple coworkers, he had no idea where you could have run off to. For all he knew, you were at a bar getting drunk off of your ass and someone could have been taking advantage of you—or worse, you could have been driving and got in to a car accident because of how frustrated you were. 

From what he experienced with being in the passenger seat while you drove, he had to admit you weren’t exactly the best driver. You had two of the worst qualities a driver could have—impatience and anger. Normally, you were calm and collective. Even if life as a nurse could get very hectic and frantic at times, not once in your three years of working at the hospital did you show that you were on the verge of a mental breakdown. 

Mark never understood how you did it—but you were very good at managing your time and completing your tasks while under pressure. Your driving however was a completely different story. As much as he could only hope and pray you were somewhere safe, it wasn’t enough to stop the many negative thoughts and scenarios that his conscience came up with. Out of force of habit, he turned on the news to make sure nothing bad happened to you—God, why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut? If he just gave up his pride and took in to consideration the stress you were under, you’d be cuddling in his arms right now while the two of you watch reruns of Cake Boss—but instead, you were out driving in the freezing cold, alone and angry. He had no idea what he should do; even if he were to give in and admit his faults first, what good would it do? You were just as stubborn as he was. 

Knowing your headstrong tendencies, there was a big chance you would leave his messages unread and let his calls go to voicemail. He couldn’t blame you though, if it were the other way around and you were the one trying to get in touch with him, Mark would’ve ignored your attempts entirely. His guilty conscience got the best of him only after ten minutes; he knew there was no way he’d be able to go to sleep without finding out your whereabouts.

Mark: Hey. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: I’m sure you’re still mad at me and my apologies probably mean jack shit to you right now but just know that I am really fucking sorry. 11:56 p.m.

Mark: You don’t have to return my calls, but do you think you could at least let me know that you’re safe? 11:58 p.m.

Mark: I didn’t mean anything I said—you know me better than I know myself baby. I would never do or say anything to purposely hurt you. Fuck, the last thing I ever want to do is upset you y/n. I’m sorry I’ve made you so sad. 12:03 p.m.

Mark: I love you so much y/n. Please come home soon. 12:03 p.m.

He tossed his phone somewhere on the floor before releasing a frustrating groan—where could you have gone? A lot of places were closed at this time of hour and he decided that since you were driving, there was no way you could be drinking. Any club or bar was immediately crossed off of his list. There was also no way you’d go back to the hospital; it was painfully obvious that something occurred during your shift that made your mood sour—so you probably didn’t want to get near the establishment until you had to return back to work in the morning. 

Shit, that’s right. 

You had another shift in less than eight hours, God, Mark really felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Knowing that there was a huge chance he wouldn’t be hearing from you any time soon, he decided to set up camp in the living room just in case you came back home and wanted to go straight to bed. He was also secretly hoping that you read his messages and forgave him; or at least felt a little less infuriated with him. 

No matter how much he tried to take his mind off of you, there was nothing that could distract him. None of the many video games he owned nor the new unsolved mysteries series Netflix had to offer could ease his unsettling nerves. Something inside of Mark was telling him to go out and look for you, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. Honestly, he wouldn’t even know where to start. California was huge—he’d probably drive in circles for hours. 

The idea of getting in contact with his friends also popped in to his mind; you’ve grown close to his group of friends over the course of your relationship to the point where you could consider them all family. However, you were the kind of person who hated being a burden to others. You also didn’t want to involve anyone in your personal business unless you really had to. 

All he could do was lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling; growing more and more irritated with himself as the minutes went by. Your disheartened facial expression was imprinted in the back of his mind—this was the first time you looked at him in a way other than lovingly and with so much adoration in your eyes. He hated it; hated himself even more. 

He just really wanted you home safe. 

Your boyfriend had no idea how long he was waiting for you; minutes felt like hours as he continued to lie on the couch, doing nothing. As soon as he heard the click of the door sound off, he abruptly sat up; not caring if he seemed too eager. He sincerely meant everything he said over text message—your health and your safety meant more to him than his stupid ego. 

His heart began to race watching you walk in; there was nothing more he wanted to do than to run over to you and pull you in to his embrace while he repeatedly apologized for everything that he said and all the hurt he made you suffer through. For his inconsiderate actions, for not running after you, for allowing his pride and wanting to be the winner of the argument get in the way. But you looked so exhausted—so tired. Your body language spoke for you; it was evident that you were probably still hurt from his words and from what he learned with past experiences, you probably just wanted to go to sleep. He was curious if you got around to reading his messages or if you listened to his many voicemails.

His heart was begging him to get up and make his way over to you, but his mind didn’t want to make matters worse. Although he wanted to fix things immediately, he was going to wait for you to take control of the situation. You slowly took off your sandals and made your way in to the kitchen. The battle going on between his mind and his heart was currently consuming his thoughts; as much as he knew it would’ve been better to continue giving you his space, his heart had other plans. 

You looked as though you saw a ghost when you heard him make his presence known and only then did Mark realize it was 2:15 in the morning. His chest hurt when he saw you tense up; he began regretting his decision. You obviously weren’t ready for reconciliation. 

“What are you still doing up?” 

You still had your back faced toward him, but he was going to take whatever he could get. Instead of continuing to ignore him, which is honestly what he felt he deserved, you actually responded to him. It had to be a good thing—right? 

“I know you’re well aware that there was no way I’d be able to go to sleep knowing you were out all by yourself this late in a city you’re not all that familiar with. Especially because I was the reason. I—I was so worried.” 

The tension in the room was thick; he was practically walking on eggshells while thinking about what to say next. You were the definition of a sensitive person and it was a trait of yours that Mark was still getting used to. It was the truth though—Mark cared about you more than he did anyone else on this hell forsaken earth. If something were to happen to you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. You were his person. That man would die for you if he had to. He found himself reaching out to you as a force of habit, but he retracted his hand as soon as he realized what he was doing. 

“Can we—can we talk?” 

You took in a deep breath and finally allowed yourself to turn around and face him. There was no way around this—you knew as you drove around that he would want to talk sooner or later. When you saw that he was still awake, you weren’t surprised. Being with him for all these years, you’ve grown to learn that Mark never allowed you to go to bed angry. He was the type to want to solve your problems before you were to fall asleep. 

The idea of you crying yourself to sleep because of something he said made his heart hurt. Only once in your entire relationship did you go to bed without listening to Mark’s apologies and it was because you didn’t want to deal with the drama any longer. He felt extremely bad that entire day though and when you arrived home that night, there was a bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite cake from your favorite bakery and a stuffed animal all sitting on the counter. 

Mark was going to make sure you knew just how sorry he was, even if it meant having to sleep on the couch tonight. You were much more calm than you were when you first stormed out. Right after the fight, you went straight to your car and sat in it for a while; allowing yourself to breathe and come to your sense before driving away. Then, you decided to go drive around the city until you pulled up to a 24-hour coffee shop. 

The exhaustion from your extremely stressful day was finally taking over you; and since you planned to stay out for at least another hour or two, you were going to need something that would keep you from falling asleep—and what better than a caramel macchiato with three shots of espresso? To your delight, you were the only customer there; you didn’t want anyone witnessing your breakdown as you cried quietly to yourself while remembering Mark’s harsh words that he directed towards you. 

Mark was the only good thing going for you in your life at the moment; all you wanted to do was collapse in his arms and have him comfort you—you wanted him to run his fingers through your hair while you were perched up on his lap, hiding your face in the juncture of his neck. Every single time you had a rough day, whether it was because of work, or something else going on in your life; but your boyfriend was really good at taking your mind off of any problems, worries or negative thoughts that you had. 

Coming home, only to hear him complain about how you didn’t wash your cereal bowl made your blood boil. You were scolded by your manager for almost giving a patient the wrong medication and it was the mistake of your colleague in training—yet you didn’t have the heart to confess that it wasn’t your fault. You understood how intimidating it was for first and second year residents; you’ve been there before, so you were fine taking the blame for something that you didn’t do. However, hearing your manager insult you and claim that you were inadequate and had no idea what you were doing made you feel as if it were true. 

The last thing anyone in the medical field wanted to hear was that they weren’t good at their job. You didn’t go through so many years of crying over how hard clinicals were on top of pulling all-nighters every single week there was a test or exam just for someone to make you feel like you had no clue on how to complete the tasks given to you. This was the first time you were scolded for something that you didn’t think was all that bad; the medication the patient was meant to take helped with soothing a sore throat. The one that the medical resident gave them had to do with decreasing heartburn—it wasn’t like it was a life or death situation. 

Mark never did anything to upset you purposely; sure, he had a tendency to leave the toilet seat up every now and then and sometimes he would get crumbs all over the couch, but that was as bad as it would get. When he called you a bitch, it genuinely felt like a slap to the face. It physically hurt and you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched in anger as he continued to say such hurtful things to you. At one point while you were drinking your coffee, it became bitter—which was odd considering how sweet it actually was and you found yourself no longer wanting to finish it. 

Your argument with Mark was just taking up the entirety of your thought process that you were growing agitated with anything and everything. After reading his text messages and listening to a few of his voicemails, you didn’t know how to react. Mark Tuan was never the type to admit to his wrongdoings; he had so much pride and such a big ego—but not once did he ever use it towards you. You’ve watched the way he became ruthless while playing video games and said some things to his friends that you considered to be a joke; something he said to throw them off while being focused on winning. 

Even at work, if he did something wrong, he’d never admit to his faults. That’s just who he was; so for him to say that he was wrong—that he didn’t mean a thing that he said and he shouldn’t have upset you at all gently pulled on your heartstrings and you found yourself throwing away the remainder of your beverage and making your way back to the apartment. 

You weren’t sure what was going to happen once you were to walk in the door; he might have apologized, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was going to talk to you or apologize again in person. Your mind would not let you get any rest; it was currently in a battle with your heart—your stupid, stupid heart that belonged to the man that made you feel like you were wrong for having a bad day. 

That—you had no right to lash out on him. You wished he would have heard you out first before attacking you for something so small and unnecessary; he could’ve washed the damn dishes himself if he was so bothered. But your heart wouldn’t stop telling you to forgive him. His job could get extremely frustrating sometimes. It might not have been as time consuming or energy draining as yours, but there were times where he would need you to hold him every now and then because his executives expected so much out of him. 

He probably had just as much of a hard day as you did—maybe he came home pissed off from something that happened at work and noticing that there was dishes in the sink that he knew were there from this morning got on his nerves. You felt like he could have handled it better though and you couldn’t help but think like he was growing tired of having to be your backbone; having to comfort you almost every single day on top of his own problems. Your mind wouldn’t stop coming up with all these thoughts and lies you knew weren’t true and you were well aware that it was best to start heading back to your place knowing that you had to be up again in less than five hours. 

Seeing him practically leap at the sight of you walking through the door sent so many emotions to your chest. You hated any time spent away from him—there were occasions where your schedules would collide and the only time you would see him was right before bed or if you were coming home from a graveyard shift while he was getting ready to leave for his job. 

The dried tears on his cheek confused you; he was the one who caused all of the drama and he had no problem making you feel like you were overreacting and being too sensitive. You were upset with yourself for wanting to walk over towards him and wrap your arms around him—but it was only natural for you to want to do so. 

For the entire duration of your shift, he was all you could think about; the thought of Mark was what kept you sane throughout the entire day. No matter how upset he made you, he was still the love of your life—your best friend, your favorite person, your soulmate. One fight wasn’t going to tarnish or falter your feelings for him in any way. 

Arguments were considered healthy in a relationship; sure, you could have done without the harsh words being thrown back and forth to one another, but you realized in the coffee shop that you would rather bicker and disagree with Mark every now and then for the rest of your life, then to have a relationship filled with constant joy and laughter with someone else. 

It was obvious that he was probably just as tired as you were, but the thought of him staying up worrying about where you were and waiting for you to arrive back home filled your stomach with butterflies. You made your way towards the dining table and took a seat; you waited for him to make the first move because you didn’t know where to start. 

“Did you—uh—happen to get my texts?” 

You decided to keep your gaze on the cup of coffee he placed in front of you; you didn’t even notice him heating some up for you. Your boyfriend was very observant of the way that you practically lived on coffee; on the days you had morning shifts, he would set an alarm to wake up before you and prepared all the things you needed so that you had less to worry about—coffee being your number one necessity. If you were to look up at him, you were well aware that you would probably cry just at the thought of how considerate he was even under a negative circumstance. 

“Yes. I didn’t have a chance to read them though.” 

That was a lie. You read every single one of his messages; each message pulling on your heartstrings the more you continued scrolling through them. Although you no longer held any anger towards Mark, you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. A part of you also wanted to hear him apologize in person rather through messages—but you felt in your gut that he would sooner or later. Honestly, you wanted to wait until you were to come home from work tomorrow afternoon so that you were well rested enough to have the right mindset if another argument broke out. 

“Oh. Well, I—For starters, I want to apologize for the way I acted towards you. I don’t know what made me say the things I did—I meant it as a joke but you obviously didn’t think it was funny and I don’t know why I expected you to. I’m so fucking sorry y/n. I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve it at all. I know I said some really cruel things in the heat of the moment, but I hope you know I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not a bitch nor are you over-emotional and you don’t get on my nerves. At all. I just—hearing you say those things about me sparked something inside that I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me. It took every bone in my body not to run after you. I’ll admit, sure—it was because I wanted to give you your space, but I was also very prideful and still so irritated with the entire ordeal. I regret every single thing I said and did tonight as soon as I realized just how scary it is being out late at night by yourself. I’ve never hated myself more than I did in these last two hours worrying about where you could have gone and what you were doing. I couldn’t stop thinking about your broken expression as you grabbed your things and stormed out the door.” 

His voice quickly grew shaky; you knew he was on the verge of crying again just by the tone of his voice. For some reason, you found yourself giving in to him and finally looked up. It felt like a slap to the face; seeing him with the most heart wrenching frown—not once in your relationship did you ever question Mark’s love for you and right now, hearing that he beat himself up for the last few hours while he was going crazy thinking of the many possibilities that something bad happened to you made you come to the realization that the beautiful man in front of you loved you more than you could ever fathom in to words. 

“I know you’re tired from work—I don’t know why I didn’t just keep my mouth shut. If I could, I’d go back and prevent this entire night from happening. I was so fucking scared y/n. You don’t know California all that well; you could have taken a wrong turn and ended up on your way to Las Vegas—your car could have broken down in the middle of nowhere and someone could have came and—I don’t even want to think about it. I’m sorry for hurting you—I know you’re well aware that I would rather sit and suffer through listening to Yugyeom and BamBam screaming while playing MarioKart than to hurt you in any possible way. You don’t have to forgive me. Hell, scream at me; yell at me, hit me, do whatever you want to me. Just know that I’m extremely sorry, and I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get you to trust me again.” 

He hesitantly stood up and didn’t even spare a glance at you before making his way back into the living room. You were upset that he didn’t give you any time to respond, but at the same time—you were extremely grateful. Right after he left you all alone at the table, you allowed the tears to flow freely from your eyelids as his apology continuously replayed in your mind. Whatever exhaustion you felt from earlier that disappeared right after you abruptly left the apartment was quickly returning—though, you didn’t know if you were physically tired or just mentally drained at this point. 

You gave yourself a couple of minutes alone just to plan out what you were going to do. Going to sleep sounded like the most rational decision to make; especially because you were meant to wake up in less than four hours to work another long, grueling and tiresome ten-hour shift. But you didn’t want to go to bed on bad terms with Mark. If he was willing to give up his pride and raise the white flag first just to make sure you were well aware that he was extremely regretful and apologetic of his actions, then it was only righteous of you to forgive him. You got up from your seat and put away the cup of coffee before taking in a deep breath and making your way in to the living room. 

The lights were off; but the lights from the hallway were still dimly lit enough for you to notice that Mark was lying down on the couch with a pillow and a blanket wrapped around him. This was the first time since you moved in together that you found him outside on the couch. A small smirk raised on your face—your boyfriend was always so courteous and considerate. 

He began tossing and turning in order to find a sleeping position he would be comfortable in. Your couch was pretty spacious and the two of you have slept on it countless times while watching movies together, but you were sure he was probably bummed by your response or lack thereof. You walked over to the end of the couch and gently tapped his thigh with your knee to get his attention. 

“What are you doing?” 

Although there was barely enough light to even see his figure, you were able to see him shrug nonchalantly at your question—as if you already knew the answer. 

“You’re still mad at me. I don’t want to make matters even worse. I’m giving you your space—“ You surprised both yourself and your boyfriend by flopping on top of him, earning yourself a soft whimper. Nonetheless, his hands made their way down towards your lower back without hesitance. His heart was racing against your chest; you had a feeling he wasn’t expecting for you to forgive him tonight let alone throw yourself in top of him. The two of you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound that could be heard was your breaths and his fingers tapping lightly on your skin. He placed a couple of gentle kisses on your jaw and gripped at your chin; lifting it up to make eye contact with you. 

“I lied. I did read the messages and I cried like a baby—you ass. Okay, I’m gonna start off by admitting that there were some things I also said that were out of line and that I did not mean. You are not a bad boyfriend at all Mark—you are the best boyfriend—hell, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. A lot of what I said was because I was so pissed off at you. I had such a terrible day at work. I was scolded by my manager twice for things I didn’t do, I had to work two extra hours to help out because three people called in sick, I was thrown up on and my break was cut short because we were so low staffed today and everyone in California all seemed to have kidney malfunctions on the same damn day. All I wanted to do was fall apart in your arms and have you comfort me like you always do—but then I come home and you make a comment about how lazy I am and I just—I cracked. Normally you’re always so good at picking up on the fact that I’ve had shit days; so, for you to make me feel even worse when all I wanted to do was find solace in you—it made me so fucking sad. And then I went out and drove for a while but I came to the realization that it wasn’t a good idea for me to roam around in a city I’m not familiar with while I was fuming so I went to a coffee shop and just thought about everything.” 

Feeling his grip on your hips tighten only made it evident that your words had an effect on him. Sure, you were telling your side of the story and you had every right to—Mark deserved to hear what an asshole he was towards you—the last person in his life that he ever wanted to hurt. But he could just picture you sitting in your car; sobbing and blaming yourself like you’ve done multiple times in the past even if it wasn’t your fault. You were the kind of person who had a tendency to think you were the reason why things went wrong. 

Usually, it was in situations at work; but he couldn’t help but feel as if you were beating yourself up about the argument that could have honestly been prevented if he observed your posture and body language and just kept his mouth shut. You wiped away a tear that fell from his cheek before placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“I wanted to continue giving you your space, but I had so many negative thoughts running through my mind. I was so, so worried about you. Baby I am so fucking sorry—“ you playfully pinched his cheek before covering his mouth with your hand. 

“No more apologies okay? Our argument is in the past. I just want you to know what happened and why I decided to return back so soon. If I’m being honest with you, I was planning on staying out until I had to head in to work again but sleeping in my car is not the most easiest thing to do. You hurt me Mark—I know it wasn’t purposely but for a few minutes, I actually contemplated on staying at a hotel or something. I didn’t want to see you for the rest of the night and I hated that I felt like that—even if it was for a split second. I always want you Mark. Every second—every minute—every hour spent away from you is spent thinking about you. What you’re doing, if you ate your meals on time, how you’re doing, if you miss me the way I can’t stop missing you, when I’ll get to see you next—then I got your message and they just solidified the love you have for me. Not that I ever questioned it once in our three years of dating. I’m sorry about the dishes—I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself these last few days but please Mark—I’m not acting this way on purpose. I’m so tired. You’re the only reason why I don’t end up in a mental institution at the rate I’m going. I’ll try to be better okay? I love you too by the way—so much.” 

The longer you spoke, the more tears fell from his eyes knowing how you must’ve felt so unhappy while overthinking the argument and just your entire day in general and he just felt so angry with himself. It was one thing for him to think about how much the argument must have bothered you, but it was another thing to hear you confess what had happened at work before coming home to a nagging and complaining boyfriend. 

He felt sick to his stomach and it was even more upsetting because he didn’t have the right words to explain just how sorry he was nor did he know what to do to make it known that he was regretful of the entire situation. Your boyfriend didn’t give you any time to prepare; he cupped your face in his hands and roughly connected your lips together. His lips were chapped and dry and tasted like salt from the tears. However, his movements were dominant and quick; his desire and need to kiss you was all that was on his mind at the moment. 

He wanted you to feel how much he loved you and how remorseful he was through the kiss. His tongue pushed down all but gently against your bottom lip before bringing it in between his teeth. The kiss continued to deepen the longer your tongues battled for dominance; any anger you held for your boyfriend was completely gone at this point. As much as you loved the way his lips melded perfectly against yours, you were finally feeling the wave of exhaustion re-enter your body and to Mark’s disappointment, you pulled away and placed your forehead against his.

“Babeeeee—“

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

You got up from off of him and reached your hand out in order to help him up. Mark was the definition of a clingy boyfriend—everyone who knew the two of you both witnessed and heard just how possessive he was over you and how he constantly had to be touching on you. But nobody ever complained—it was so adorable. He wrapped his arms around your stomach and placed his head on your shoulder while letting you guid the two of you towards your shared bedroom. You attempted to escape his hold in order to move around freely, but he had other plans and continued to cling to you like a sloth.

“Babe, I have to get ready for bed—“

“You can get ready while I hold you.”

“I can’t take off my scrubs with your arms around me.”

“I guess that means I have to take them off for you—it would be my pleasure baby.” You rolled your eyes and gently shoved him while grabbing one of his shirts and making your way towards the bathroom. 

“Baby?” You hummed in curiosity and gingerly smiled at him. 

“It’s already 3 in the morning. Maybe you should call in sick. I don’t like the thought of you going to work with barely any amount of sleep and I know we’ve moved on from our argument—but it’s only human for you to think about it again. I don’t want you getting yelled at again if your manager senses that you’re tired. Plus, you’ve been working so much this last month. I know you love your job, but it’s okay to take a well deserved rest once in a while—“ 

He had a point. Besides Mark, work was your ultimate priority. Sometimes, you put the hospital before your own health and private life. There were occasions where Mark would invite you out with him and his friends, but a lot of the time, you would either be at work or sometimes be called in as you started getting ready. Working so much led to over exhaustion every now and then but no matter how sick you felt—whether it was a cold, the flu or nausea, you would still find yourself tending to patients. It was something Mark wasn’t all too fond of; especially because your boyfriend seemed to be the only one genuinely concerned about your well-being. 

As soon as you finished your nighttime routine, you wasted no time making your way towards where Mark was sitting on the bed and crawled on top of him. He gave you a tired yet toothy grin and pulled you close to his chest. His hands returned to your lower waist and he even playfully pinched your butt; earning himself a slap to the shoulder. You brought one of your hands in to his hair while cupping his cheek lovingly with the other. 

“I know you don’t want me apologizing anymore, but I just want to say sorry one last time. I can’t promise we won’t argue again—we’re both stubborn as hell—but I promise to be more patient; more understanding. And I don’t want you leaving—you really did worry me baby. I love you so much y/n. I’m sorry if what I said earlier made you question my love for you—but I love you. I’ve loved you for the last three years and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.” You placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth before smashing your cheek against his chest. 

“I love you too. A lot more than I get around to telling you. Fine. If I stay home tomorrow, you owe me.” He gently pulled away from you and began wiggling his brows. 

“Oh, and what do you have in mind? You know babe, we don’t need to wait till tomorrow, I can give you what you deserve right now. I’ll take such good care of you—“

“I don’t mean sex you horny ass, I meant you make me breakfast in bed or prepare a bath for me. If I’m calling in sick, I want a relaxing day off.” He gave you an adorable pout while playfully hiding his face in between your breasts and whining softly. 

“Making love can be relaxing. Come on Y/n, it’s been almost a week since I had your pretty lips around my cock. I’m sex deprived. As much as I prefer you topping me and riding my cock like the professional cowgirl you are, I’ll take the lead. I’ll eat your pussy out until you cry—fuck you till you scream. Might as well you call out for the entire week. I think you and I both know angry makeup sex is the best sex. Don’t lie y/n, you miss having me inside of you just as much as I miss feeling your tight walls wrapped around me—“

“I think I made a mistake telling you to come in here. Go back to the couch.”

[1010ll]

do you have any new recipes that you've learned recently? i remember you wrote something a while ago about carbonara and i tried it out for myself it was really fun!!

i love this 😭 im gonna write way too much idec! something that has changed since that post: my kitchen is worse. i have a horrible combi oven which has resulted in me accidentally eating raw chicken, because it had been in there for more than 2 hours at supposedly 230 °C and i was really hungry and thought it HAD to be done by then. also i have less time and less money lol. it has made me a bit sad, and less motivated to cook nice things but i also love food! which means these tips/recipes are gonna reflect that and might seem a bit dull but probably also relatable for a lot of people.   i’ve definitely made spaghetti carbonara a bit too much because it’s simple and require few ingredients! will still vouch for that one tip about substituting the bacon with roasted veggies and other types of meat.

last week i made risotto for the very first time, i think? which means i might be assuming a bit too much, but i think it’s a great dish that you can almost make with whatever you have in your fridge. i made it with roasted beetroot(needs A LOT of time to soften, lesson learned), carrots and parsley root or parsnip(idk the difference), dried rosemary and thyme, garlic and onion. i had some leftover sushi rice, which is great for risotto apparently(love versatile ingredients), roasted them in some oil and then added white wine and chicken stock and actually added a leftover parmesan rind i had in the fridge to give the ‘stock’ some flavour, a bit of nutmeg and then in the end some shredded gouda lol… it was surprisingly delicious and i didn’t even really care to cook the rice perfectly. it also tasted delicious 3 days later, which was a nice surprise. i bet there are tons of risotto recipes online, but as long as you have rice, some kind of flavoured water, i guess you could kind of add whatever you want of veggies and top with whatever herb you have around.

another type of porridge i consume a lot these days is hot oat porridge, which i’ve eaten since i was little and it was the first ‘dish’ i learnt to make myself and it’s cheap. some people really dislike the consistency and look but i don’t. it’s also very easy to customise. i put in whatever nuts and seeds(which are often cheaper than nuts) i have around: flaxseed, sesame seeds, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, chopped almonds and sometimes a dollop of peanut butter. i let them simmer along with the oats. i like adding those elements because it gives it some texture and it keeps me more full throughout the day. it’s very important to me because i hate spending money i don’t have on fast-food when i’m not home and i hate being hungry. dried raisins, cranberries for a bit of sweetness and if i’m treating myself i’ll add some fresh apples cut into small pieces or some homemade berry compote(i use frozen) or brown sugar. if i had more money i’d use maple syrup but i don’t at the moment. i also add a bit of cinnamon and cardamom, dried ginger etc, whatever you feel like. some people also add milk afterwards but i’d rather spend my milk on my coffee.

a small tip: making chili flake / garlic oil. it’s really delicious, you could put it straight on pasta with some parmesan and pepper and it would be a filling meal. either chop the garlic really fine, grate it, microplane it, smash it to pieces. heat some olive oil until it’s quite hot, then remove from heat and add the chili flakes and garlic. if the oil isn’t hot enough you can just put the pan or pot back on the heat but be careful you don’t burn the chili flakes or garlic, as it will make it bitter. the longer it will toast, the less pronounced the raw garlic flavour will be, so when it smells toasted enough for your taste, take it off. i store it in a tiny glass jar and add it in stews, sauces, toasts, pizza, sandwiches etc. the flavour is very strong imo and everything it touches will smell like it. something to drink: i like strong foods and i like sour foods, which is why i like lemon/ginger based drinks. to make it even more winter friendly and easy to make, i like to grate unpeeled ginger(i hate slices of ginger, they do nothing for me and seems like a waste of ginger), lemon zest, lemon juice and mix it or blend it with some water/apple juice and honey and strain it afterwards. if you have a really nice blender you can just add all of it together with some ice. i’m basically making a large amount of ginger shot mixture. then when i feel like it, i can take some of the mixture and either drink it as it is, add more apple juice if i need a refreshing beverage or add hot water and more honey for when im cold. you could also add turmeric, chili, use less sweetener and other sorts of healthy stuff but i honestly do it for the taste so i don’t care about that that much.

something sweet: i posted earlier about cakes and someone mentioned swedish kladdkaka, which is a super delicious, cheap, brownie-like chocolate cake that is easily customized and hard to fuck up which is why i’ve made it since i was very young and is a go-to and i didn’t even know it was a swedish thing. if you like airy, light cakes this is not for your. this is sticky, sweet and almost like confection. you can add nuts, swirls of peanutbutter, tahini, actual pieces of chocolate, replace the white sugar with brown sugar, the butter with oil(you can be fancy and use a bit of olive oil) or use a mixture, brown the butter, you name it. the recipe i use is this: melt 100 g butter and let cool. mix 2 eggs + 3 dl sugar in a bowl until fluffy in one bowl. mix 1.5 dl flour, 4 tbs cocoa, 1 pinch of salt in another. mix the dry with the wet mixture and add the cooled, melted butter. this is the point where you’d add chopped nuts, chocolate etc. pour the batter into a cake tin lined with parchment (i use one that is 16 cm in diameters i think). bake the cake for around 30 mins at 150°C - 175°C degrees. check on the cake using a cake tester or a a knife. if the knife is clean after … stabbing it, it’s done! the cake will change it’s texture after cooling. this is a cheap cake, and if you like cake dough you might want to give it less time in the oven for a more fudgey texture. make it your own! there are no rules. last time i made this, i left it in for too long in my opinion but it was still delicious. also i literally have a shit oven with a round oven rack that goes in circles no matter what due to the microwave function, and the only ‘mixing’ equipment i have is a whisk and a spatula. no need for kitchen aids or  even electrical hand mixers.

something else i’ve been eating a lot for lunch is simple open faced sandwiches, and something that can really elevate those is: making your own mayonnaise(and toasting the bread). it can be challenging, but it’s really worth it imo and i can’t remember the last time i bought it in a store. i have a small plastic bowl, whisk and 1 egg yolk. something i can really recommend is buying pour snouts for bottles. i transfer my oils from their plastic bottles to smaller, old soda bottles because im cheesy like that and it’s really handy especially when making mayo. constantly whisking the egg yolk by hand and then adding the NEUTRAL oil ever so slowly. don’t be fancy and use cold pressed stuff or extra virgin olive oil because it will taste weird. i only ever fail when i try to use immersion blenders for some weird reason but i find it rewarding to do by hand anyways and i think it might be easier to make smaller portions that way. mayo needs acid and you can get it by adding regular vinegar, apple cider vinegar, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, lime juice, pickle juice, citric acid dissolved in water etc. it’s really easy to customise! when im making banh mi, i add some sesame oil, soy sauce for saltiness and use lime as the acidic element. for more regular use i add a bit of mustard(also helps with the emulsion), for fries, i like adding some fresh garlic. something as simple as mayo, tomatoes, flaky salt and pepper topped with chives is really nice. i also really like using slices of boiled potatoes or boiled eggs(idk if that’s only a thing where i’m from), mayo and the chili garlic oil. it’s also great for making tuna salad. yesterday i made a really simple sandwich with a very simple tuna salad(tuna, mayo, yoghurt, lemon and pepper), arugula, basil, the garlic/chili oil, cream cheese, pickled jalapeños and onions, green peber, cucumber and tomatoes. you could leave out everything but the tuna salad and it would still be a great little meal.

another nice condiment that beats the supermarket stuff by far is homemade ‘pesto’. when i buy parsley from my local grocery store, it’s a gigantic amount that i in no way can consume in a week. first of all when buying fresh herbs i really recommend washing them, wrapping them in a damp towel and keeping them in a closed container. it will prolong their lifetime from lasting a day to a week(change the towel if it seems too wet). i once had some cilantro in my fridge for several weeks and still be fresh. anyways, when i buy that much parsley, i like to remove the tougher parts of the stem(which i use in stews/sauces! chop it up and sautee it along with garlic and onion), add literally just olive oil, water, pepper, garlic, and a bit of acid and then blend away! it keeps for a long time in the fridge and is also delicious beneath tomatoes/potatoes/cheese on open-faced sandwiches. if you want to be fancy you can of course add some type of hard cheese, nuts, seeds, dried tomatoes, whatever.

i know this is the longest text post ever, but as a last reminder, i really recommend watching pasta grannies on youtube. really simple recipes with focus on few, good ingredients that just takes some time and love.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH. 10

Even with the fatigue you felt after your laughing tic, you couldn't go to sleep at all last night. Which isn't a big deal, after all you are a chronic insomniac who has had an on off sleep schedule this week.

After twelve fifty-two hit and you still weren't tired or even close to doing your tired tics you did the only thing you could think to do on this technical Saturday morning. You started on your weekly tidy of the house. Bless whatever powers at be that you ended up in this cottage outside of town rather than an apartment unit surrounded by neighbors. The amount of complaints you would've gotten would have surely gotten you evicted.

It's not like you could stop this behavior, well you could but if you start doing nothing when you have spurts of insomnia you'll get lazier when you need to be productive. Banking on the fact that you'll just do it when you have insomnia. It happened all the time when you were in school, and while that worked for a while it wasn't a healthy way to cope with your sleep disorder.

You've found doing productive things or anything you would do when the sun was up typically helps you regulate you circadian rhythm faster than it ever did when you just laid in bed praying for sleep to take you.

It isn't at all surprising when you finish your chores around two forty that morning. With nothing better to do and not being at all in the mood to do any attempt at art or reading. You decide to settle in to watch a movie. It starts with scrolling through Netflix and seeing Coraline, then that turns into Paranorman, which turned into Corpse Bride, several episodes of the old Twilight Zone.

By the time you were finished with the fourth episode it was already one in the afternoon. You really needed to start baking if you wanted fresh cookies for the movie tonight. Setting up your monster movie hard drive to play a movie for background noise you set out on baking.

It's a super simple recipe you started using back in high school but it's always a hit at parties. Maybe it's because you fold candies, chocolates, nuts, or whatever topping into each cookie individually. You can't say for sure but everyone loves them, and you think that's nice.

Creaming butter while the sounds of a woman screaming in agony as a zombie eats her lower intestine seems very much on point for you. However, you soon find yourself drowning out the movie as you hyper focus on the mixing of ingredients. You tripled the recipe, hoping to make a mixture of mini sugar cookies, mini chocolate chip cookies, and mini mini M&M cookies. If you had thought about it more you might have grabbed a jar of maraschino cherries to add them to the mix. Although you think three batches of mini cookies might be a little excessive so four may have been overkill.

'Oh well, no turning back now.' you think preheating the oven for four hundred degrees and roll tiny half inch dough balls while you wait.

After about fifteen minutes you assume the oven is hot enough to start baking. You line the first tray up all with sugar cookies. You only get two thirds of the bowl down on that tray. It was your biggest one too. Setting a timer for ten minutes so you could turn the cookies to let them bake for another three after that, you turn your attention to folding a handful of chocolate chips into the next bowl's dough balls. Placing the new chocolate chip dough into the bowl holding the rest of the sugar cookie dough as you go. You nearly finish that when the timer goes off to spin the tray. Honestly at this rate all your dough will be ready before you even have one bowl down. You hope you can finish baking in time for the movie.

It's five o' two by the time you put the last batch in the oven. You've been cleaning as the cookies baked and now your kitchen is nearly clean once more. Just a few more dishes to do after that batch comes out and you pack up the cookies.

Letting the most recent batch have a chance to cool you start placing all the cookies in your three largest containers. You'll need to grab a fourth container for the last of the cookies, but all the cool cookies are now ready for transport.

And with how early in the evening it is you should eat something now so you can have some room for snacks later. Time to finish off that pizza. Taking a slice out to the bins and placing it neatly on the ground for Chonk, whenever it is he decides to come and claim it, you turn back around to finish baking and get your dinner. After pulling the cookies out and setting them to cool you reheat your dinner for tonight.

Sitting down, plate in hand, you're just able to catch the shift into the next movie. Teen Wolf 1985 starring Micheal J. Foxx. Not a scary movie by any means but you keep it in the storage drive for rainy days. And even though today isn't raining you think it'll be a good watch.

You can not believe how utterly painful that was to have just watched. It was so average that it might as well not had the werewolf aspect at all! The acting was average, makeup was ok for the time, but the writing was just the worst. And the ending basket ball scene? It felt like a cheesy early 2000s Disney Channel original movie. You're pretty sure if you combined several Disney movies you'd have that exact plot. Hell Don't Look Under the Bed was scarier than that, and it was a better story too.

Checking the time you see you have about the average length of a Disney Channel movie before you have to leave. Good because you really want to watch Don't Look Under the Bed now. Switching over to your Disney+ account you find said movie and rush to put everything up as it runs through the beginning credits. With cookies packed away and the containers stacked and ready you plop back on your couch to immerse yourself in the early 2000s “horror”.

Just as the hand comes from under the bench to caress Fran a knock rings through your home, effectively startling you. Your eyes shift over to your front door, it's nearly eight thirty on a Saturday who or what is all this far out? Getting up from the couch you make your way over to your door, unlike every horror movie you have your phone and contacts pulled up and ready to dial. Phone behind your back and thumb hovering over Hollis' contact you open the door. Where three figures greet you.

Tim stands in front of the other two, dressed in dark jeans a gray tank top and red flannel with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Brian stands behind him and to his right, he's wearing regular jeans and an olive v-neck. Jesus fucking Christ is it 2012 and no one told you? Toby off to Tim's left is in black jeans a black t-shirt with a green short sleeve button up that has a little alien head pattern. Well, they don't look like they're here to murder you with an ax, so you move the hand from behind your back and let it rest by your side.

Missing the two tense gazes as you move the appendage.

“...Um, hi?” what would normal people do in this situation? Was this even a normal situation to find yourself in, what with three men you've just met at your front door.

Tim seems to be looking for his words, he must be out of his element as well. On the other hand Brian seems content to let Tim flounder around for a bit, all the while Toby wrings his hands together. You can't tell if it's from nerves or his tics.

“Hey..uh, so you mentioned Saturday Dead. But we're new so..and we..” Tim is even worse with human interaction than you are.

“We were wondering if 'stop it' if you wanted to ride with us and give us directions.”

Oh that makes sense.

“Yea sure thing, c'mon in. I'll go get ready.”  You give the men some space to enter your home. Then lead them to your living room,

“Make yourselves comfy.” you say as you leave them to change.

Once in your room you lock the door, although you believe you have a good reading on Toby to not be the type you can't be too safe around new men.  You opt to change into the first shirt you grab from your closet, black t-shirt with several flatwoods monsters on it along with the phrase 'squad goals' and a pair a black joggers. Perfectly comfy for a chill movie night at the crypt.

“That was fast.” is the first thing you hear when you reenter the living room.

Toby had no problems making himself comfortable in your home, since he is sitting on the couch, seemingly watching the movie with your fidget cube in hand. Brian and Tim, on the other hand, were leaning on the wall separating the living room and kitchen.

“What d'you mean?” you asked Tim confused, tilting your head to the side.

“Well, uh” he seems embarrassed by this for some reason, “women normally take a long time changing is all.” Ooooooh now you get it he's a misogynist.

The room goes quiet with Tim's stupid opinion. Toby ceases all fidgeting, Brian however looks as though he's a cat that caught a canary. He must enjoy the pain and embarrassment of others, the dick.

“Mmmh I don't think that's true,” you'll let this one slide but Tim's on thin ice, “Anyway I'm not a woman. I'm trans agender.” Tim has the decency to look embarrassed for stuffing his foot into his mouth. But it isn't really his fault you never mentioned your pronouns or lack of gender to him, and you mix and match your masculine and feminine days. Understandably you won't blame him for not knowing your pronouns but that misogynistic comment will still be marked as a red flag.

“I am so sorry.” and he truly does sound sorry for the slip up.

You shake your head and shoo away his apology, “It's good, you didn't know.”

“We ready to go?” you ask looking around the room. Tim and Toby nod, the younger man moving off the couch to stand with you all when Brian speaks up.

“Actually, Toby don't you have to use the restroom?” Said man pauses on his way over to your little group, “No.” voice laced with confusion and irritation.

Tim jumps in with a stern, “I really think you should.” Toby cuts his eyes at Tim and Brian.

As weird as it is for one grown man to tell another to go to the bathroom, let alone two grown men, you quickly remember Toby's CIPA.

“Dude the drive itself is gonna be nearly an hour plus the two hour movie. The Cryptonomica only has one bathroom and like thirty people will be there tonight.” You assumed you'd also get a glare for insisting on the matter. But you only get Toby's furrowed brow in response and he looks uncomfortable right now, not intimidating. He's probably embarrassed that his new acquaintance...friend? Is also present for the topic of his bathroom habits.

With another glare to Tim and Brian, Toby pushes past you and down the hallway. Normally this would leave you in an awkward situation but thankfully you have escape tasks!

Marching over to the entertainment center you turn off the TV. Spotting your fidget cube on the table where Toby left it, you decide to pocket it just in case he'd want to use it for the movie.

A loud thud startles you and you look up to see Tim picking up a few books that fell from the bookshelf.

'Weird...' you think as you watch him place them back onto the shelf they fell from.

“A...sorry.” as he places them back you notice one side of the shelf is tilted downwards. It must've just lost that little nub that holds the shelf up in that corner. You probably have a few spares floating around in one of your trinket holders.

You give Tim a small 'it's fine' as you pass him on your way to the kitchen. Cookies all set on the counter you go over to your fridge and grab the popcorn bag off the top. Opening the fridge and retrieving the Surge for Kirby you are all set on your snacks for tonight.

Placing the Surge and popcorn on top of your cookie containers you go back to the living room to join the boys in waiting for Toby. Who is already coming out of the bathroom, drying his hands on his jeans....He knows you had a towel for that right?

“We should be good to leave now.” Brian says turning from Toby to you.

“Ok yea, after you guys.” you side stepped  back into the kitchen doorway to let the men pass you.

“Want some help?” Toby asked as he walked closer. And as much as you wanted to say no you had it, you really didn't want to drop the Surge and have a big mess everywhere.

Nodding to him, thinking he was just going to take the things at the top or even the top container with them. Toby reaches out and barely brushes your hands at the bottom before taking the entire load into his own arms.

It felt like someone rubbed sandpaper across your knuckles and fingers where his hands touched. The burning sensation persisted even long after his hands had moved away.

It's the first time you've gotten bad vibes from Toby's touch. He's probably in a bad mood, his touch hasn't held much intention before but this hurts. Or you could totally be reading too much into this with too little sleep and you just aren't having a tactile day. You never have tactile days really just small windows where if someone is lucky they can squeeze a pat on the shoulder or a high five out of you.

“Hey, that's not helping.” you call out following the men out of your home.

“It's not?” he asks, “Then what is it?” why's he have to sound so smug about this.

“Condescending.” Toby blinks in surprise at the no nonsense tone of your voice.

You weren't harsh with your words...at least you don't think so. You were just stern in how you said them, wanting to get your point across.

Turning from the men you lock your door and check twice to make sure. When you turn back to face them you grab the top two containers of cookies, and subsequently the popcorn and Surge laying atop it, from Toby.

“This is helping. I could do this much at least.” Toby nods dumbly as you pass them and make your way to the cars.

“We can take ours, we'll drive you back.” Tim says unlocking their little sedan.

That seems fine, after all if you ended up wanting to stay later Kirby would totally let you crash on the couch in the basement and take you home in the morning. Or whenever he woke up tomorrow. And that way you wouldn't be keeping the boys too late. It is their first Saturday Night Dead and first time meeting most of the young adults in town. The night was bound to get draining.

You agree and hop into the back seat on the driver's side, Toby sliding in from the opposite side, leaving Brian to take the passenger seat and Tim to drive. You and Toby place the cookies in the middle seat and you thank him for his help. He quickly nods and looks out the window, knee starting to bounce slightly.

“Where am I going?” Tim asked as you all got buckled in.

“Ok, so we can either drive all the way through town or drive through the forest and across the river.”

“Which is faster?” Brian chimes in as Tim bristles.

“Forest.” You do catch Tim's reflection rolling his eyes at your reply.

To be fair with this group you wouldn't chance getting stuck in the forest on your way to a horror movie night. Like that's kind of a horror movie cliché right there. You and Toby are young enough that you're sure someone would mistake you two for late teens, in fact you know it's happened to you several times in the past week alone. While you're fine going into the forest at night by yourself it's only because horror movies don't center around one person dying in a forest by some ancient entity.

'But they do start that way.' that thought almost makes you want to cut back on your nightly hikes, unfortunately you have no other coping mechanisms for your insomnia other than hiking or driving. So you'll ignore that thought for now.

The car is quiet as everyone waits for someone to respond. Toby's knee bouncing is more obvious as it begins to jostle the car. He's also staring down at his hands, still red from his picking yesterday, wringing them together. Clearly the stationary car is getting to him, he breaks the silence.

“Will someone fucking say something?”

“Sorry,” you say gently to him, “Yea we can just go through town. Tim do you know where Whistle's Auto is?”

“Uh yea,” you catch his quick glance towards Toby in the rear view mirror.

“Cool just head in that direction and keep on Highland Street.”

That's all you had to say before Tim was shifting gears and driving off. You notice quickly that he's a faster driver than Toby was. It's yet to be seen if that should make you uneasy, you'll have to see how well he breaks.

When you guys had made it through town and Tim came to a stop in front of a sign proudly stating 'Welcome to the Cryptonomica' they were understandably concerned by the lack of a building or any other cars. You get out of the car and grab two of the cookie containers, when you made a grab for the other two and the snacks on top Toby kept them out of your reach and exited the car as well.

“So where is...everything?”

“Oh we have to hike. The shop's further in the forest.” you say as you walk on past Tim.

“You said people were gonna be here.” Brian chimes in.

Right this now looks like you have dragged them to a parking lot in the middle of no where in a small town that they don't really know people in. Great going YN. Way to look like the bait for a weird cult looking for sacrifices.

“Yea the Hornets. They're the local “biker” gang.” the stunt group probably had the dirt bikes out today, it was nice enough for it.

Understandably the men hesitated before following you. Toby was the one who quickly caught up with you, perks of longer legs, and matched your speed to the shop. It didn't even take five minutes before you saw the shop and a few Hornets out front smoking or just plain loitering.

A chorus of “YN!” “Hey we missed you last week.” “Yo, did you hear..” rang through as you greeted the group. Upon seeing the containers of cookies the chorus was replaced with cheers and you were given excited praise as they made way for the four of you to be let in. So embarrassing, you flush under the praise getting a little energy boost from it as well. Your mood however changes when you lock eyes with the person running the booth tonight. Keith Warren, second in command and assistant manager of the Hornets. Despite having no beef and all the same friends you two have never clicked. It's almost your thing to be completely rude to each other when you do interact.

“Warren.”

“LN” his disdain is clear too, “Ten dollars bucket.” he hadn't even looked at you the jerk!

“Forty tonight, brought friends.” you placed the containers you had on the table as you dug the money from your wallet to pay for you all.

Keith does look up at that, literally the only time more locals come in is during Halloween when they want to get into the spooky season. So he's surprised to see three new faces attending Saturday Night Dead.

“Hey there, name's Keith.” you roll your eyes as he introduces himself to the group, you'll just slip away now since you already paid.

“Rude!” Kieth calls out, “Small talk!” you respond. You vaguely hear the rest of the introductions and Keith waving off the guys when they try to pay again. Oh maybe you should have actually told them you'd pay for their tickets, you thought it was obvious you invited them and they even drove you here. It's just polite that you cover their tickets this week.

Soon Toby is back by your side, you have a feeling you won't be able to loose him tonight if you tried, as you walk through the shop and towards the trap door in the back. The trap door that leads to the panic room converted into movie theater on Saturdays. Once you get down you bee line for the table in the back that is already half filled with snacks and some sodas. With Toby still following you he copies your moves of opening the containers and placing them on the table. You take the Surge and popcorn away from Toby, throwing the popcorn over in the direction of your corner seat and bring the Surge over to the man working on the white screen set up.

“Present.” Kirby pays no mind to you as he struggles with the screen. So you wait silently for him to just kick the thing and move on. Like clockwork Kirby kicks the bottom cover and the rest unravels perfectly.

“I need to replace this.” he says, just like he does every week.

“Oooh thank you.” he grabs the battery acid marketed as a beverage and spirits off. Weird guy.

“That's Kirby, he runs this place. Normally very chill but between the Picnic and movie night he ….just needs a break.” it's the nicest way you can put it. Toby just nods and scans the room wringing his hands together uncomfortably. You've noticed he hasn't ticced once since leaving the car, maybe he's suppressing them despite how anxious he clearly is.

Doing your own scan of the room you see that Tim and Brian haven't made their way in yet, Keith probably talking their ears off. Better them than you, you suppose. You're about to ask Toby if he wants to find them when the local power couple walks in.

“Party starting soon my dudes sit tight!” Jake announces as he and Hollis walk in to take their usual seats.

“Op spoke too soon babe, YN's here.” Hollis let out a chuckle when you rolled your eyes.

“Came without a soap box, hope cookies are suitable.”

And both are already grabbing a few of your mini cookies before they've even sat down. You really are glad you made them. Remembering Toby's with you, you introduce him to your friends.

“Tobais these are my friends Jake,” the blonde smiles warmly, “and Hollis.” They cover their mouth and toss a peace sign up as their mouth is still full. “And this is my friend Tobais.” he raises a hand to greet them.

“Hey, you're the new guy over at Auto right? You fixed Katrina's bike up quicker than Lewis ever does.” When Toby nods Hollis continues, “Man she's been saying how much smoother it rides now. Think I can stop by this week and get you to take a look at mine?”

“Yea, that should be fine.” and with that the two began to talk shop, literally. They just started talking about Hollis' bike. Normally all the Hornets do their own maintenance on their bikes but their motorcycles still need inspections and what not. This is really working out for you, your friends all getting along.

Thankfully it seems the topic calms Toby down a little, and you can see a head twitch or two make it's appearance as the two speak. Hollis being the chill person they are, and being used to your own brand of tics, makes no comment or acknowledgment of his tics.

Jake pulls you into a conversation about plans for a hang out at H2Woah that was fun, later after all the picnicing was done. Said he wanted to try surfing in the wave pool, you aren't sure about it but you agreed you'd teach him at least the basics of surfing if he taught you how to snow board. Didn't take much for the deal to be sealed.

Tim and Brian finally made their way down to the basement and you raised a hand so they could find you and Toby. Really it wouldn't have been too difficult but with everyone starting to pack in you didn't want anyone to be out of the group. Introductions had been made and everyone took to their seats.

You were already in the corner opening your popcorn when Toby sat down on your left blocking you from the rest of the room. Thinking on it if Toby wanted to eat he'd probably be too self conscious of his scar to take his mask off.

“Hey...actually would you mind if we switched?” he just gave you a lazy look before standing up and letting you scoot into his previous spot before sitting down in your spot. This way you could in theory block the view of his scar later.

You notice how his eyes dart in the room, despite Brian and Tim being just behind you two Toby still seemed on edge in the space. He has looked a bit uncomfortable all night, maybe that's why he was sticking to your side. You're way less outgoing than Brian is and Tim seems content to let him do his own thing. You feel bad, like you pressured him into coming and now he's paying for it. Toby looks a few minutes away from ripping the skin around his nails off again and you don't want a repeat of that.

“Here.” you whisper as the lights go off, handing Toby the cube from your pocket.

It's a quiet moment between you two as the trailers of the DVD play out and Toby focuses in on the cube. You note how he gravitates to the marble and joystick sides the most, always moving his thumb across each in a counterclockwise motion before reversing for a beat. Counter counter switch counter counter switch counter counter counter switch.

Once he found his rhythm with the toy you see tension leave his shoulders a little. Is he even able to feel the tension in his muscles?

You shift focus to the screen as the opening credits play out. And if you weren't sitting so close to Toby you'd missed the clucking sound coming from him. Knowing he'd get more anxious about his tics in this “quiet” setting you opt to ignore them and focus on the movie. After all the more relaxed he is the less likely he is to tic meaning the less anxious he is and more he can enjoy himself tonight.

About a third of the way through the movie you catch Toby sliding his mask off one ear, letting it shield his scarred cheek, and grabbing a handful of popcorn. You can't hide the giddy grin on your face from the action. To say you were worried about Toby not enjoying tonight was an understatement. But he had to have felt some comfort to slide his mask off in public, right? Your reassurance comes in the form of another handful of popcorn, as Toby pays no mind to you and only to the demon currently dancing on the screen.

With a terrible movie playing and a less anxious friend at your side you settle down a bit more yourself. Barely noticing when your head falls on Toby's shoulder as you slip into unconsciousness.

You wake up to the roaring of Kirby's snores and popcorn in your hair. A typical Sunday morning for you since arriving in Kepler.

[project-rosewood-476]

Love? What's That?

*slaps this blog* THIS BADBOY CAN FIT SO MANY SIDE FICS IN IT

Here's another side fic. This one also focuses on an interaction between Tabby and her stepdad but this is on the more gentler side.

Yes this is still angst but its more of a hurt/comfort thing I promise you. It ends on a semi happy note

“You know most of my problems stem from you. Honestly, I would be better and have more freedom if you’d just disappeared off of the face of the planet. It’s only you that has a problem with me! If you’d just upped and left, we would all be much happier,” spat out a 12-year-old Tabby as she slammed the bottom kitchen cabinet that she was cleaning.

Today and night, she was ordered around to do busy work around the house when her stepdad could have quickly done it himself. But no, he was too busy being a lazy piece of shit even to entertain the thought of doing his responsibilities around the house. He was breathing down her neck all day and telling her what to do when he saw that she would do it anyways on top of lacing into her about her problem with authority and other mental issues. He just wouldn’t back the fuck off, and she was dead ass tired. She had enough, and that’s what caused her outburst because he wasn’t going to listen otherwise.

Tabby looked over at the kitchen clock on the stove longingly. It was well into 2’o clock in the morning, and her mom was supposed to be home two hours ago. She knew that her store was chaotic and busy, so it took time to clean, but this was outrageous even for her. She had a sneaking suspicion that something was up, and apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

“Yeah, well, careful what you wish for. Keep it up, and you may get it,” The older male grumbled and looked away.

Tabby snapped her head up from what she was doing and looked over at him with a suspicious and confused look. Surely this was one of his ploys to guilt-trip her into apologizing for what she said, or It was a trick to get her hopes up only to smash them down. But something about what he said just sounded different. Like he almost meant it. She just couldn’t place her finger on it. Yet something about what he said was off, and it disturbed her.

“What do you mean by that?” Tabby asked slowly.

“Don’t worry about it! That’s none of your business!” he snapped at her.

“You can’t just drop an ominous phrase like that and tell me not to worry about it! Whatever it is, I have a right to know! Come on; we’ve been through thick and thin with each other! You can tell me. I promise you won’t be alone!” she pleaded.

“I SAID DROP IT, TABITHIA!” he raised his hand about to hit her, which caused Tabby to flinch and attempt to block his oncoming attack before hearing her mom pull up in the driveway finally.

He slowly put his hand down and straightened up before turning away from her.

“Get some rest. Your mother and I need to have an adult conversation,”

“Uh oh, this can’t be good,” said Tabby in thought.

She slowly stood up and put her cleaning supplies away. Her eyes widened in horror as they darkened with troubled thoughts. Oh god, she sincerely hopes that their suspicions weren’t correct. They both hated being wrong, but they both prayed to whoever was listening up there for this one except for the first time.

The look her mother gave her when Tabby made eye contact with her as soon as she walked through the door was enough of a confirmation. Tabby hung her head in defeat and began to cry silently. She moved past her dad as fast as she could so he couldn’t see the weakness in her and into her room.

That night was the longest ever in Tabby’s life so far. That night was the night she saw her parents fall out of love with each other. She tried to go to sleep. It wasn’t often her dad let her go to bed willingly, and she planned to take full advantage of that.

“Who cares if he leaves? Good riddance for me! I can finally get my freedom! We don’t need him! And honestly, it’s high time that she kicked him to the curb for good!” she grumbled to herself as she tossed and turned. She was still wide awake, listening in to her parent’s conversation. He was angry, but it was more of the cold and calculating anger. Yet, he still didn’t hit her or yell at her, for that matter. How come he was gentle with everyone else except for her? It wasn’t fair.

“Come now; I know you don’t believe a word you just said.,” she said in thought, trying to reason with herself.

“And what if I do?” she challenged out loud to herself.

“You don’t. Wanna know how I know? Because if you believe that you would be celebrating with joy instead of hurting for him and crying and secretly praying that he won’t leave. You are scared,” she said to herself in thought matter of factly.

“I mean, I guess I am hurting for myself and him...I mean, yeah, he’s hurt me more times and ways that I can count. But does he deserve to be hurt in return? Cheating on someone? Especially that person who you’re supposed to love and care for and be loyal to? That’s just low! He’s done everything for us! He took me in and raised me when he didn’t have to! And he stuck around for Adam, too, when he could of just have his fun and left again! But no! He stays here, makes sure that we’re fed and not dead and takes care of us, and teaches us how to take care of ourselves! And my mom dares to do this to him?!”, she was seething in rage as she clenched her bedsheets, making her knuckles turn white and banging her head against the pillow as hard as he could.

“I sense a feeling of betrayal here,”

“That’s an understatement. I mean, I’ve always viewed my mom as this very moral person. She preaches that like fire and brimstone. But I guess once a coward, always a coward. I’m just upset that I was let down, that’s all,” she admitted in defeat.

“Ah, there it is—the truth. Now, let’s go over this rationally. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him to leave. Because if he did, how would that affect Adam? Are you willing to have that conversation with a 3-year-old? Are you ready to tell him the truth of why daddy is no longer with him? Because we all know mom won’t do it. Speaking of mother dearest, as much as we would like to believe that she doesn’t need another man in her life, you and I both know that with a short amount of time, she would fall back on her old habits of bringing strangers into the house namely other adult males. Do you want to go back to that? Especially with Adam on the line? You know that no other males out there other than dad would be willing to take care of other kids other than his own. What if he left and mom brought home another strange male who’s just as bad as dad, if not worse?! Are you willing to put Adam through that?! Is that the price you’re ready to pay for your freedom?!” she interrogated herself in the hellscape she called her head.

Tabby was crying hysterically at this point. She didn’t want to lose her best friend/dad, who’s she’s known for eight years. He’s all she knows. She didn’t want to be left alone again like she was all those years ago for a brief time. Only this time, he won’t come back. Oh god, this wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She scolded herself on how she could be so selfish as to disregard Adam like that. Adam, her pride and joy. The sweet innocent little boy who was a ray of sunshine to all. She could never throw away what she worked so hard to raise. She needed to provide stability for him. Even if the abuse wasn’t good for him to be around, it was still stability nevertheless. She would much rather have him around someone he trusts and is used to growing up with than some stranger who would do god knows what to them that mom brought in off the streets. Tabby can’t be everywhere at once, and she won’t always be there to protect him. She’ll put up with the abuse for a while longer until Adam is eighteen and out of there. She’ll suffer if that means Adam can have safety and stability.

She loved him that much to do so.

“What is love?” She asked aloud.

“I’m not sure you would have to do more thinking about that,” her conscience admitted.

Tabby slowly came out of her dissociative state. She blinked and looked around her surroundings in confusion before looking at her alarm clock.

6:00 am it read.

“Ah fuck I’m going to be late for school if I don’t hurry my ass up!” she said in a panic.

She hurriedly got ready, looking messy, but she’ll fix that on her way to school and in the bathroom before school started.

She hesitantly reached for her doorknob before stopping.

“What if he’s not there? What if he did leave?”

She hesitated but turned the doorknob.

“Only one way to find out”

She pushed her bedroom door open and was greeted with the warm air mixed with the sickly sweet scent of Malibu 100, vodka, and cheap beer. The living room and kitchen were a mess covered in dishes, disorganized clutter on the floors on top of empty beer cans everywhere, and the two liquor bottles. Tabby coughed at the smells, and already she was feeling a migraine coming on from the Malibu. She told herself she’ll clean up after school since it would probably still be there when she got back. She simply did not have the time. She’ll deal with the lecture and beating later. She knew that he spent the rest of the night drinking his sorrows away. The only thing that brought her relief was seeing her dad passed out on his chair.

“He didn’t leave us after all,” she thought warmly.

Tabby couldn’t help but run over and hug him and didn’t want to let him go. Even if he reeks of sweet liquor and cheap beer coming from him, it was oddly comforting to her. She didn’t care if her migraine was getting worse. She was afraid that if she let go and went to school, she would never see him again.

“Huh, hey, what’s the meaning of this?” he slurred awake, blinking to try to clear his surroundings. He looked down to see Tabby nuzzling his chest, crying, half hanging on him and half on his lap.

“Tabby, honey, what are you doing? You’re going to be late for school, and you still have to clean this mess up,” he meant to have a harsh undertone, but he was too wasted, his voice slurred with softness and concern instead.

“I didn’t sleep at all last night! I was too riddled with anxiety! I overheard everything you and mom talked about! I was so scared that you would have left us! And then I would have to worry about raising and protecting Adam and making sure that mom doesn’t bring home any strange man that isn’t you ” she talked fast, and word vomited all over him like she was spilling her sins at the altar.

“Tabby, honey, why would I do that to you and your brother and your mother?” he sounded so concerned. It’s so hard to believe that in any other circumstances or the fact that if he were sober, he would have pushed her off of him and chewed her out, and beaten her for being a baby.

“Because mom cheated on you! And you deserve to be happy! And you deserve so much better! You do so much for us and go above and beyond! And I just love you so much, and I hate seeing you hurt! And it’s just not fair!” she was sniffling, hiccupping, and blubbering mess.

“Tabby, honey, listen to me. Hey, no, look at me,” he said gently as she lifted her face.

“I will never abandon my children or your mother. That’s not what you do to people who have been there for you through thick and thin. I can’t just leave my two favorite children on their own. You both need me,” he patted her hair to calm her down.

Tabby didn’t say anything. She just sat there and held onto him, whimpering, trying to catch her breath.

“You know I’m proud of you. You are becoming everything I’ve dreamed of you becoming,” he said so soothingly as he continued to pet her hair.

“Really, you mean it?” she looked up at him, hopefully.

Like with alcohol, she was falling for the sweet poison of his words.

“Oh yes. Surviving rosewood is no small feat. It takes so much mental strength to do so and be a top-notch leader at that. I am so proud of you for how far you’ve come and how far you will go. I have raised a strong, independent daughter. Yes, I do consider you my child,” he continued to slur his words, but he was so sweet and comforting.

Like her dad with the Malibu, she continued to down the sweet poison of his words like there was no tomorrow. She was becoming drunk on false praise and promises. Even though she knew that it was only temporary, she didn’t care. She would deal with the damage later.

“D-dad?”

“Yes, honey?”

“W-What is love?”

He hesitated and thought for a moment.

“Love...love is being there for those you care about. Even if they hurt you, it’s about the unconditional love you have for them. They might not appreciate it now, but they will in the long run. I guess I’m just loyal to a fault,” he looked away, embarrassed.

"So love is loyalty then?” Tabby lifted her head and cocked it to the left in confusion.

He thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah, love is loyalty."

She thought about it. It made sense to her. She was loyal to her group, and she loves her group. And her group is devoted to her, and she knew that they loved her. So that checked out. She's loyal to heath and would never do anything to hurt him and vice versa. So that checked out. And she’s devoted to her dad because he was the only one to raise and take care of her and teach her when no one else would. She holds him to the highest esteem. And she loves him despite everything. Hell, she believes that hiding the body brought them closer because they share a traumatic experience. And if he didn't love her he didn't have to stick around and go above and beyond for any male with a kid that's not theirs. He didn't have to, and he still chose to anyways. So in a sense, he was loyal to her.

So that means he loves her.

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. I don’t hate you; I just miss you,” she said as she buried her face into his chest.

“I love you too, honey,” he said as he continued to hold her and kiss the top of her head.

He continued to hold her close as she just spilled everything and everything. She knew that he would use all that information against her later and be in trouble for it, but she didn’t care. She was desperate to have her best friend back, even if it was fake and temporary. He was patient with her, and he listened. Pretty soon, he fell back asleep, and she fell asleep on him like a little kid again. Safe and sound.

She didn’t go to school that day.

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Things We Don’t Say (modern AU - Actors)

Summary:  No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit    

Warnings:   This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF 

- or read below the cut - 

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for further updates. 

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4 

Chapter One

Emma scrolled through the email her manager had sent detailing the new role she was being offered. It was something fresh, something different from what she normally focused on—no hint of a police procedural in sight—and based on the tone, it sounded like they were very interested in getting her signed for one of the leads. She stretched her legs out along the couch, digging her cold toes underneath the pillows in search of some warmth, only to yank them back when she encountered something both crinkly and wet.

“Dammit, Neal! What the hell is this?” she growled, glaring at the brown sludge coating her foot.

She leaned forward, careful to angle her toes away from any other surface, and peeled the throw pillow from the couch. Smeared across the white fabric and the expensive leather was what looked like the remainder of a milky way bar, the wrapper still clinging to the puddle of caramel and chocolate.

“You have got to be kidding me. Neal!”

The only response she got was the sound of something hitting a pan full of oil in the kitchen, the apartment filled with the sizzling hiss of something frying. Dropping her phone and forgetting all about the email she’d just been reading, she hobbled down the hall into the bathroom to clean up, wondering how in the hell to get out a chocolate and caramel stain. Why he couldn’t just learn to clean up after himself was beyond understanding. Sometimes it felt like she was living with a teenager who never wanted to grow up, and she couldn’t help but long for the days when her apartment was clean and didn’t smell like whatever weird odor it was that Neal always brought home—grease and cigarette smoke, maybe.

Her foot finally clean enough to be walked on, she headed into the kitchen to get some paper towels only to be greeted by what looked like every dish she owned spread out on the counters and island. Every surface was dusted in flour and drips of batter, measuring spoons leaving trails of oil and sugar across the floor and counters alike.

“Oh my god,” she cringed, knowing the mess would be left for her. “What are you doing?”

“I was wondering when you’d get off the phone,” Neal poked, giving her a quick glance over his shoulder before motioning proudly over the mess that just seemed to get worse each time she looked at it. “I’m cooking.”

The casual way he always stabbed at her phone use was exactly what she didn’t want to hear right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have to spend so much time working if he bothered looking for something himself. He’d had a recurring role on a family comedy when they met, but he’d been fired not long after, and for the last six months, Emma was pretty sure he hadn’t even gone to any of the auditions she’d mentioned. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if he had an agent anymore. 

“When was the last time you had a Milky Way?” she asked, choosing to ignore his snide comment. She just wasn’t in the mood.

“That’s a weird question. I don’t know, maybe last week? You didn’t pick any up the last time you ran to the store.”

Emma nodded, her lips drawn tight as she tore paper towels from the rack and returned to the living room, pulling what she could of the melted mass from the couch and thinking she’d need to resort to Google to get the rest out. Her anger bubbled with every sticky string of caramel that wrapped around her fingers. Why couldn’t he go to the store on his day off? He only had seven of them. She stomped back into the kitchen, hitting the garbage can a little harder than necessary and tossing the mess of chocolate and paper inside.

There was just enough room in the overload sink—what had he used the colander for—that she could wash her hands.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge. What was so important that you had to turn the entire kitchen into a complete disaster?” she questioned, already adding up how much time it would take her to wash and wipe everything down.

She’d be lucky if she was able to get back to her manager before tomorrow as requested.

“You remember that travel show we watched the other night?” he prodded, his eyes glued to the pan as it hissed on the stovetop, a spatula held ready in his hand. “You mentioned you hadn’t had good churros since that trip to Mexico, so I thought maybe I’d make you some.”

The anger that had been just about to boil over slipped away to that place far enough below everything else that she could just go back to ignoring it.  

“Neal,” she sighed, suddenly more exhausted than anything else. “Thanks.”

“Of course, Ems—anything for you.”

In the living room her phone blared to life, the dark tones of The Imperial March echoing as it vibrated across the coffee table.

“Work calls,” Neal sniped, a trace of resentment running beneath the pleasant smile he fixed in her direction. “Wouldn’t want to keep Regina waiting.”

It was amazing how quickly that anger came right back to the top of everything, and she found her feet pushing her as far away from Neal as possible, snatching her phone from the table and forgetting entirely about the couch as she stormed into the bedroom.

“What?” she hissed, slamming the door behind her and clenching the cell like it was something she wanted to crush. “What is so important that you couldn’t give me a few more hours, Regina?”

The other end of the line was silent, as if Regina had either hung up, or was waiting for an apology. Well, she wasn’t getting one—not today.

“Is there something you needed, Regina?”

“Are you okay?” Regina asked, not as a friend, but as an employee that was curious to know how soon she would have to contact Emma’s PR team and inform them a mental breakdown was imminent.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bad time. I got the details you sent. I just haven’t read through everything yet.”

“Well, that explains why I haven’t heard from you. Honestly, I thought you cared more about your career than that. I was quite clear this was urgent. Don’t take your time with this one, Miss Swan—they want you, but they can’t wait much longer.”

The line went dead after Regina had delivered her scolding and Emma sighed, dropping to the bed and rolling onto her back as she flicked back into her email and started again from the top. It was an interesting premise with even more depth than she’d originally thought—a new series that centered on the mental health of a man who had developed delusions after a car accident that took his brother, leading him to believe everyone in the hospital was a character from a fairy tale world—but then she got the part that Regina really focused on, the money.

“Holy shit!” Emma gasped, double checking the figures and thinking how she’d never seen such a good offer—not for someone in her bracket. It was unheard of. “I guess they really do want me.”

It wasn’t until she read through the rest of the itinerary and details that she wondered if the big paycheck wasn’t recompense for the filming location and duration—the middle of Nowhere, Maine, as if Maine wasn’t already considered the middle of nowhere.

She read everything twice before she shot Regina a quick text.  

E: I’ll take it

The message had only just sent and there were already three ellipses following. Emma could practically hear her manager’s smug response.

R: I knew you would. I’ll be in touch.

There should have been nerves fluttering in her stomach, or at least a solid pit of dread at the prospect of having to walk into the kitchen and tell Neal, but there was nothing. It was a big decision to move across the country for what could be a long-term role, but it was still her decision to make.

Hopefully, he would be happy for her, he would understand that this had the potential of lifting her out of her rut and providing great income for the foreseeable future. There were some great names attached, veterans of the industry that were looking to branch out into a new genre.

She was excited for the first time in a long time.  

She didn’t need to feel guilty, at least that was what she told herself as a niggling pang of guilt worked its way into her chest.

It would be good to break it to him gently though, to put a good spin on it.

The minutes ticked by and she finally realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer, she wandered into the kitchen, her arms crossed in front of her as she looked for him, but the apartment was empty. The stove was turned off and a plate, probably the last clean one, was waiting on the counter with a pile of golden churros perched on top of a greasy paper towel.

Next to it was another torn paper towel with a note scratched onto it in sharpie.

The boys called and I’m heading out for a few beers. Don’t wait up. Enjoy the churros.

She waited for the anger to bubble back to the top, but there was nothing—no anger, no guilt, just a deep, hollow nothingness that grew and yawned as she fingered the scrap of a note transparent with oily fingerprints. Feeling like maybe this job had come at the best possible time, she picked up the plate of churros and walked over to the trash, watching them slide in with the rest of the garbage.

[peteywillproceed]

All The Lies

Author’s Note: I’m so glad you guys liked the teaser for this yesterday, I hope the full thing lives up to expectations! As always, I hope you enjoy! x

Summary: Admitting you got cheated on is hard. Being cheated on by the person your best friend set you up with is harder. But telling your best his girlfriend was the other woman? Impossible. What good could even come from it?

Word Count: 3,582

“I cannot believe you!” You yelled, hands in your hair, jaw almost on the floor. “You told him what?”

Harrison just laughed, wiping the dish you’d unceremoniously dropped in his hands after the revelation and putting it back in the rack. “I didn’t know it was a private thing.”

“My breakups are not a matter of public interest,” you told him pointedly “and why did you even feel the need to tell him about it anyway?”

“I dunno, we were just out and you came up and he asked what you’d been up to recently.”

You almost screamed, biting down on your lip before you could snap and say something you’d regret. “You could’ve answered that with ‘she’s good’, there was no need to tell internationally beloved actor Thomas Stanley Holland that my relationship was a complete and utter failure.”

He snorted, draining the sink of washing up liquid and chucked the tea towel into the washing machine. You leant against the counter, staring out of the window whilst you wondered what the most effective way to kill your best friend was and whether this constituted a well meaning kicking-out-of-your-flat. Sighing, you shook your head and blinked back the tears that had pooled in your eyes when you were distracted – you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it, after weeks on the sofa and tonnes of ice cream. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

“Y/n?” Harrison said softly, moving behind you so his chin rested on your shoulder.

You took a deep, shuddery breath, plastering the best fake smile you could muster on your face and spun around to face him. “Yep?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t ready for people to know yet,” he pursed his lips and rubbed your arm, pulling you into a tight hug when a sob wracked through your body. You clung onto his shirt, feeling the material dampen as you pressed your face against it, trying to remember to breathe, trying to forget the loss of a two year relationship.

“It’s okay,” you finally managed, choking back the sobs, even though it definitely wasn’t. “I just didn’t expect you to be so blunt about it. Or to tell Tom.”

“Well he was going to find out sometime, or were you planning on leaving it till he came over and Justin wasn’t in the flat anymore?”

You laughed between tears, wiping your face with your palms. “That one.”

“And, may I ask, have you been Googling Tom again? Since when did you know his middle name?” Harrison poked your chest playfully and you rolled your eyes, batting his hand away.

“Since he wouldn’t stop teasing me about mine last time he came over, I figured I needed some ammunition.”

“Ahh, you never were that good at revenge, were you?”

“Excuse me?” you gasped, pretending to be offended “what are you implying?”

“Y/n, Tom’s an actor – he’s been teased so much about that name I honestly don’t think he gives two shits.”

You could hardly breathe between laughs, the tears drying up faster than they ever had before, and you wondered if that was what progress had looked like. You’d thought it was progress when you’d gotten out of bed, when you’d stopped eating two tubs of ice cream a day and finally brushed your hair, but the truth was Justin had still been in the back of your mind, always there, always reminding you of that night you so desperately wanted to forget. Except for the first time in months, for that little split second, he hadn’t, and it had just been you and Harrison in your own little bubble.

“Anyway, speaking of the dipshit, he’s home tomorrow,” Harrison pulled his coat off the back of a chair and slid his arms into the sleeves.

You frowned, trying to remember what Tom had told you the last time you’d spoken to him. You’d known both Harrison and Tom since you were young, always that little bit closer to Harrison, and you’d been nervous about Tom coming home because he’d missed so much. You’d dreaded telling him everything that had happened, because he was the one that had set you up with Justin all those years ago. So, when he’d invited you and Harrison out to Morocco a few weeks back you’d stayed behind, too scared to face up to reality. You thought you’d have more time to prepare yourself – he was supposed to be on set for another month. “Oh really? He’s done filming already?”

“Yeah, something about a schedule mixup,” Harrison shrugged and fished his car keys out of his pockets “there’s a welcome home party at Nikki’s tomorrow night, are you coming?”

Oh, that. You remembered the invite, burning a hole in the pocket of your jacket. You’d seen the little white note card lying on the floor last week, but you’d been so caught up in Justin and that stupid picture you’d barely had time to process it.

“Sure, I think it’s in my calendar.”

“I can’t believe you still have a calendar,” Harrison rolled his eyes.

“Hey, some of us like being organised!” You chased after him as he made for the door “Some of us actually make it to appointments!”

“It’s 2020, Y/n,” he smirked, looking over his shoulder as he got the flat door open “It’s time to live a little and take some risks!”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and tutted. “And what if I don’t want to?”

“Then life is going to make you,” Harrison called, already disappearing into the hallway outside “and I, for one, am going to enjoy watching.”

***

You pulled up to the Holland house later than you meant to.

Mostly because you’d spent half an hour in front of the mirror wondering if it was a better idea to just stay home. But also because you’d tried putting makeup on for the first time in weeks and somehow you just looked worse.

You’d ended up back on the floor, sobbing so hard you thought your chest would cave in and wondering if it was even worth going tonight. You hadn’t seen your best friend in months, and it sucked that you had to ruin it by having a conversation you never wanted in the first place.  By the time Harrison texted you asking when you were gonna get there, it was way past six and you were embarrassingly, stupidly late.  

You shouldn’t have gone.

Yet here you were.

And everything felt so much worse.

“Y/n!” a familiar voice yelled as you hopped out of the car and spun around. Harry was running down the steps and launching himself towards you, pulling you into a tight hug before you’d even locked the car. “Harrison told me, I’m so sorry, Justin’s a dickhead. No wonder you didn’t wanna tell Tom.”

“Yeah, well we didn’t need to ruin two relationships did we?” you laughed, pushing away the pain. You’d practised what you were going to say, run your lines like you were rehearsing a movie. You figured there was no way you were going to make it through this without crying, but you could at least try.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, clearly confused by what you’d just said, but you were interrupted by Harrison flying down the stairs and yanking you into the house. “Finally, thought you’d died or something.”

“Nope just car trouble,” you lied, more than grateful as he dragged you away from a frowning Harry. “Where’s Tom?”

“Right here, darling,” he said, stepping into the hallway and swinging you into the air.

“Jesus Christ, Thomas let me down!” You laughed, bashing his back as he spun you in a circle. Harrison grinned as Tom tipped you upside down, spinning you so violently the black and white floor blurred into one, meaningless grey, and you had to close your eyes or else you would’ve ended up vomiting.

“Six months, SIX MONTHS its been since you graced me with your presence!” Tom turned you back upright and pulled you against his chest, arms wrapping around your waist. “You can let me have this!”

“Yef but canft breafthe,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Don’t care, you owe me.”

“TOFFAS!”

“Alright alright,” he relented, letting you go. You could feel the heat flooding your cheeks as you smoothed down your hair and fixed your top, rubbing your palms against your jeans. “But you do owe me a proper cuddle.”

“Should’ve stayed in England, mate, there’d have been plenty to go around,” Harrison smirked, but you eyed him wearily, knowing exactly what he was referring to. For a good three weeks after the break up, you were pretty certain Harrison hadn’t left your side.

Tom seemed to pick up on the double meaning, sliding his eyes between you and Harrison in turn. “Am I missing something here?” he asked.

“Depends how you interpreted it,” Harrison said, turning towards the living room. “But you two probably need a catch up. I’ll go find Sam and give him a hand with dinner.”

You glared daggers at his retreating back, mentally cursing him for not even allowing you to take your shoes off. You felt Tom’s hand rest gently on your shoulder, the other tilting your face to face him, and you took a deep breath, knowing that if you didn’t get it over with, you’d never be brave enough again.

“Yeah, he’s right, we probably should,” you sighed, and Tom’s frowned deepened.

“Is everything okay, Y/n?”

You hesitated, gnawing at a loose piece of skin on your thumb. “Not…not really. Can we go sit in your bedroom? I feel awkward doing it here.”

Tom nodded, not taking his eyes off you as you took your shoes off. You could feel him staring at your neck, knowing his brain was working over time to figure out what was going on that was so bad you had to wait to tell him. You knew he’d be thinking the worst, it was just what he did, and usually you never had to make that a reality.

But today…today was different - and you had no idea how he’d take it.

***

“So,” he said, closing the door and pulling you onto the bed “what’s up?”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and looked everywhere but his face, knowing you’d lose all the confidence you’d built the moment you looked into his eyes. His room was clean, a few pants chucked across the floor and a couple of dust bunnies lurking beneath the bed, but he’d only been a day. He had more than enough time to dirty it up to its usual standard.

“Seriously, Y/n, you’re scaring me now.” Tom’s voice reminded you he was still sitting in front of you, the two little lines creasing his brow even deeper now.

“Sorry, it’s just…I don’t really know how to phrase this.”

Tom smiled, taking your hand in his, and you almost snatched it back in shock. His palms were warm and clammy, just as trusting and open as they’d always been. You had a feeling this might change things. “It’s just me, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“But’s that’s not the point. It’s just…well, it’s about Maura.”

“Maura? As in, my ex-girlfriend Maura?” Tom drew back slightly, confusion still written across his face. “What about her?”

“Well I- wait, your ex girlfriend?” you stopped mid-sentence, realising what he’d just said, mouth hanging open in shock. Tom gulped, flicking his eyes away from yours, and shuffled backwards on the bed. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, desperately looking for anywhere else to focus on, and this time it was you getting more and more confused. “Since when did that happen?”

“Since before I went away,” he sighed, scratching the side of his head as if that was enough of an explanation. “I figured we weren’t right for each other.”

“But I thought-” You’d been going to say you thought he loved her, thought she was the one for him and that was who he was going to end up with. This all seemed so…so random, so out of the blue you couldn’t even have written it as a surprise twist in a book. You could barely process what he was saying, a thousand thoughts crossing your mind at once. Why hadn’t he told you? What the hell had happened for him to break up with her? But the most important one of all, the one you didn’t really want to let yourself believe, kept flashing in front of your eyes like a neon sign.

If they’d broken up before he went away to film Cherry, then that meant Maura had been single that night.

“Justin cheated on me,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “He cheated on me when you were away and I’ve had no idea how to tell you.”

“He did what?” Tom’s eyebrows shot up so fast they were a blur, and before you could process what he was doing he had his phone in his hand and was scrolling through his phone. “I’m gonna kill the bastard.”

“Wait, no, Tom, stop,” you desperately reached for the phone, clawing it from his grip as he tried to turn away from you.

“That arse hole cheated on you, Y/n, he’s not getting away with it!”

“But you don’t know what happened!” You finally grabbed the phone and yanked it away, panting from the effort. “There’s more to it than that!”

“Like what? What possible excuse could he have for cheating on you, Y/n?”

You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. Tom’s face was red with anger, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “We’ve kind of gotten off topic here.”

“Well you were the one that brought up getting cheated on,” Tom stepped towards you, holding his arms out “I honestly had no idea.”

You collapsed into his reach, remembering how much you’d craved his smell and warmth over the months he’d been gone, and sighed against his chest. “That’s because I didn’t want you to know. I made Harrison promise not to tell anyone.”

“But why? It’s not like I would’ve blamed you for it, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No,” you admitted “but, the thing is…he cheated on me with Maura and-”

“And you thought we were still together,” he finished the sentence for you and the relief that washed through you was like water poured on a wildfire. You’d kept it bottled up for months, sobbing to Harrison and wondering how the hell you were supposed to tell him about it. To finally say it, to finally hear him understand, was worth more than you’d realised. “You didn’t want to hurt me too.”

“Especially not whilst you were filming. I knew how much you loved her and I couldn’t bear the thought of upsetting you when you were thousands of miles away.”

He laughed, the sound hollow and unnerving as he guided you back to the bed and held your fingertips with his. His gaze was fixed on the door, barely acknowledging you as you turned to stare at him in bewilderment. “The irony is, you did still upset me.”

You frowned, your lips parting in confusion and your heart beating wildly in your chest. “What?”

Tom raked a hand over his face and lay back against the bed, his chest heaving a sigh as you fell down beside him. His curls were gone, the stubble of his head prickling your fingers as you reached up out of habit to run your fingers through it, trying not to panic. You’d worked so hard to keep everything to yourself so it wouldn’t mess up his work, that the thought you somehow hadn’t even managed to do that was crippling.

“When I set you up with Justin two years ago, it was for a reason other than just wanting you to get out more,” he said eventually, turning to face you. “I couldn’t admit something to myself and I figured the best way to…stop thinking about it, was to pass the problem on.”

“What problem?” you shook your head, still not really understanding what he was trying to get at. Tom’s hand reached to cup your waist and you gasped at the contact, not used to being this close to him.

“You,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “You were my problem. Y/n, I’ve been in love with you for years and I couldn’t admit it to myself. I thought if I saw you happy with someone else it would make everything go away, but somehow…somehow it just made it worse.”

You couldn’t breathe, paralysed by Tom’s revelation from your head to your toes. Your eyes were locked with his, filled with desperation and a sadness you’d never seen before, and your heart almost broke at the thought he’d held himself back from this for years.

You’d never given much thought to it really, there’d been the usual teasing in secondary school but once Tom had gotten with Maura it had pretty much stopped. There’d never been any confusion, no wondering about what might have been – to you, he’d always been Tom, the boy who’d wiped a booger on you at six, and copied your chemistry homework for four whole years and never been caught. Sure, you knew exactly what people saw in him, why girls chased him on the streets and oogled him in the gym, and now that you thought about it you’d always liked it when you went swimming.

But he was still just Tom.

“I…I don’t really know what to say,” you said at last, pulling away from him slightly. You saw hurt register in his eyes, and it killed you to be the one that caused it. But what else could you say? You couldn’t tell him you loved him too because it was a lie...

...wasn’t it?

“Anything - anything but that this has scared you away.”

You held back a sob, somehow feeling more conflicted than you had than when you’d come here in the first place. “It hasn’t, I’ll always love you Tom,” you saw hope flare in his eyes “but I don’t think I love you like…like that.”

He nodded, pushing his tongue against his cheek and pulling away from you. Suddenly the air went cold, all the energy disappearing with him, and you wanted to sob at the loss. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, his back blocking you from seeing his face, and you ran a finger across your lips, at a loss for what to say.

You knew today would go badly, but you hadn’t expected it to be because of this. You’d prepared yourself to deal with the fall out of a cheating girlfriend, not a declaration of love, and now you just didn’t know what to do.

Thinking on instinct, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling his shoulders shake as his warm hands embraced yours and he leant back into your body. You glanced at his cheeks, reaching up to wipe away a tear, and sighed into his neck, wondering how you’d gotten here.

“I’m sorry, you probably didn’t expect that,” Tom laughed, the sound full of a profound sadness you’d never heard in him before.

“I didn’t, but I’m glad I know,” you replied, feeling more sure as soon as you’d said the words.

“Really?”

“Of course. It seemed like it was upsetting you not telling me, and if telling me has made it any easier for you than I’m glad I know.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it’s made things easier.”

You smiled, bending down onto the floor and cupping his cheek. “Maybe not, but things are always better out than in.”

“Isn’t that a drinking joke?”

“It applies here,” you grinned, relief filling you as he cracked a small smile. “Besides, things change.”

Tom’s brow furrowed, big brown eyes turning to look up at you as you rubbed your thumb over his chin. “What?”

Hesitating, you bit your lip and met his gaze, remembering what Harrison had told you yesterday about life and taking risks. This was either a horrendously bad idea or about to change a hell of a lot in the space of five seconds. 

You weren’t exactly known for your rational decisions after all, you barely managed to make it out of your flat alive most days. But the second he’d said it, the second he’d made you question everything you believed, you knew you had to find out what it felt like, even if it was just once and never again.

And so you went for it, without thinking, and pushed your lips against his, feeling the shock wave course through his body and his rigid mouth melting against yours as he finally registered what was happening. For a second, you wanted to pull away, pretend like it never happened, but then Tom reached for your neck and fireworks exploded behind your eyes.

It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, butterflies flapping excitedly in your stomach, your heart swelling and beating faster than ever before. Bolts of lightning raced through your veins, electricity crawling across your skin and setting your nerves on fire as his lips moved slowly against yours. Suddenly, there were no more questions, no more overthinking, just you and Tom, exactly where you were supposed to be.

And, for the first time in weeks, you were stupidly...embarrassingly...happy.

When you finally pulled away, you were both a little breathless, a little starry eyed and overwhelmed. Your lips curved into a smile, a small laugh escaping you as you fell against Tom’s arms and nuzzled your face into his chest.

“Does this mean...” he started, but you pushed your finger against his lips.

“Don’t even question it, Thomas,” you grinned, reaching up to press another kiss to his cheek. “It’s not something that needs to be thought about.”

Before you could think, his lips were back on yours and this time you were in his lap, pulled flush against his chest and he was running his tongue along your bottom lip. 

But before you could deepen the kiss, the door behind you suddenly burst open, Harrison nearly giving you a heart attack as he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Oh FINALLY! Harry? You owe me twenty quid!”

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