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horansqueen · 4 years ago

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New Angel - Chapter 14

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1 ☆ chapter 2 ☆ chapter 3 ☆ chapter 4 ☆ chapter 5 ☆ chapter 6 ☆ chapter 7 ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10 ☆ chapter 11 ☆ chapter 12 ☆ chapter 13

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.7k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

When I pushed on the door of the library, I felt lighter and I had a smile on my face. I was even starting to wonder if maybe I should give up on a love and sex life altogether. I knew it could bring joy and happiness, but at the exact moment, all it did was confuse me and make me nervous, and honestly, I didn't need that.

I smiled when I noticed Millie sitting behind the counter, her head leaned against her hand and looking down, probably deeply lost in a book. I stared at her a few seconds and saw her look up at someone who came to ask a question. She got up and they talked so I decided to walk the aisles to find something new to read. I ended up with a book full of random thoughts and sat at a table near the counter to make sure she'd see me. It took my friend only a few seconds to notice me and her lips curled as she raised her eyebrows. I waved slightly at her and checked my watch. I still had about ten minutes to wait and I just opened the book to start reading. It's only when I felt someone sit next to me that I got out of my thoughts a bit but I still had to blink a few times to get back completely to reality, turning around and smiling to Millie who leaned her elbow on the table and placed her chin on her palm, staring at me.

"I'm glad you came." she whispered, making me raise my eyebrows.

"I said I would, did you doubt it?"

She shrugged a shoulder and looked away. "When Louis said he'd come, it was a 50/50 bet to take."

"Perfect. That's the first thing you'll write down on your list."

She raised her eyebrows a bit surprised and I just got up and walked back to the desk where one of her co-workers was now sitting. I sent the girl a big smile and bent down slightly, asking her for paper and pen. She smiled back and started playing with a lock of her hair before nodding and giving me a few sheets and two pen. I walked back to Millie with a winner smile and she rolled her eyes, chuckling as I sat back down.

"T'was easy."

"With those eyes and that smile you can clearly get anything you want." she pointed out, rolling her eyes again.

"You almost sound jealous."

I gave her a sheet and a pen as she sighed, taking the pen in her hand and scribbling at the top to make sure the pen was working.

"I am." she confessed in a whisper. "It must be amazing to be you."

"Can I remind you that the girl I thought I'd spent my life with has broken my heart?"

"And then came back. I don't think you realize how lucky you are. Not about Grace coming back, but about everyone falling in love with you super easily." she explained, staring down at her sheet.

I looked at what she was writing and smiled sadly. 'All The Things I Hate About Lou'.

"How many times did you have your heart broken, Niall?" she continued, drawing hearts next to Louis' name.

"What do you mean?"

"How many girls did you fall for that didn't love you back? How many girls did you date and loved actually left you? How many of them made you cry?" she elaborated, making me frown slightly. "And I'm not even asking about the girls you just wanted to shag. I'm pretty sure not many refused."

"I've been through unrequited love, too, you know." I shook my head. "I know how it feels."

"You probably broke more hearts than the number of times yours has been broken." she added slowly with an other shrug and a sigh. "I'm not saying you didn't hurt or that your pain is not real or important I just mean..." she paused and shook her head, her eyes finally meeting mine. "I just mean that it must amazing to be you."

"Maybe it's time you see that it's also amazing to be you, Mill." I pointed out. "And the fact that Louis broke your heart doesn't mean you're not incredible, okay?"

I grabbed my pen and started writing X's on all the hearts she had drawn and finally added the number '1'.

"Okay..."

"Now write down how unreliable he is."

Millie looked up at me and her lips curled a bit before she chuckled. I waited until she was done and grabbed my sheet too, making a long vertical line in the middle before writing 'Grace' on the left and 'Summer' on the right. I separated both their cases in two too, writing 'pros' on both sides and then 'cons'.

I stared at the sheet for a minute or two and finally sighed. I had no idea what to write. Not because they didn't have qualities and flaws, but because I knew it would bring me closer to a decision I was clearly not ready to make.

"You don't have to write anything right now." I heard, feeling Millie's hand on my shoulder.

I kept my eyes on the sheets and licked my lips, nodding slowly and finally, I folded the sheet and put it in my back pocket. Millie got up and I did the same, forcing myself to put a smile back on my face and I walked past her. She followed me outside and when we were out, I stopped and turned to her, raising my eyebrows. I decided to put anything that had to do with love away for now, burring it deep in my brain for a while, focusing only on doing fun things.

"Okay, so what's your routine after work?"

She looked a bit surprised but finally turned around, pointing at a small restaurant not too far. "I go there first."

"Alright, let's go there, then."

I followed her inside and she ordered three pieces of pizza and three water bottles. The person behind the counter smiled and prepared the food, putting every slices of pizza in a different box. I watched Millie pay and grab the bag the guy was handing her before sending him a smile.

"Thanks Jon, I'll see you tomorrow."

We walked out and I raised my eyebrows, looking at her with an amused smile. "You literally know his name?"

"We all work around each other so we sort of see each other often. Not just with Jon but with other people too." she clarified, handing me a box. I grabbed it and she looked again in the bag for a water bottle, giving it to me too.

"Please, tell me the other pizza is not for Louis."

She looked up in my eyes and her lips curled. "No!" she chuckled as she started walking quicker. I followed her in an alley but frowned as I pushed my hands in my pockets. I was not sure why we were there but I didn't even have time to ask. I saw my friend bend down near a man who was sleeping and whisper something to him. He jumped slightly and she laughed, handing him a box and a water bottle. He sat up and grabbed both a small smile on his lips.

"What is it today, Millie?"

"Pizza." she pointed out. "How are you today, Ernie?"

I watched her interact with a homeless man just standing there and wondering who the hell was this girl I thought I knew, and why didn't I try to find out more about her before,

"Is your friend mute or just dumb?" the man asked, making my friend laugh.

"I'd have to pick the latter."

I frowned at her and took a step closer. "Hey! That's rude!"

"Ernie, this is my friend Niall. Niall, this is my friend Ernie."

I sent him a small smile and a head nod before Millie sighed and got back up, telling him she was leaving but that she'd be back the next day. She walked past me and I was about to follow her but finally took the few steps separating me from Ernie and handed him my box.

"Thanks, kid."

I nodded again and turned on my heels, jogging slightly to reach Millie who just looked at me with her lips curled on the left. I raised my eyebrows and shrugged, pushing my hands back in my pockets. "What?"

"Nothing."

I could hear in her voice that she was thinking about something but I couldn't decipher the way she was looking at me. I smiled back at her and finally cleared my throat. "Okay, what's next?"

She took her slice of pizza out of the box and took a bite before handing it to me. "Once a week, I go to the movies and the other days, I just go in the old dvd and vhs shop where they sell old movies for a buck or two."

"And what's today?" I replied, my mouth full of pizza. "The shop. Cinema is on thursday because it's pay day."

"Makes sense."

We walked inside a small shop and the bell placed on top of the door rang gently. She waved at the employee and he waved back before she chose an aisle and tilted her head on the side to read the titles. It took her about five minutes before her lips curled and she grabbed one. It was a tape and I started wondering if she even had a VCR to watch it.

"This. Did you ever see it?"

She handed me a box and I raised my nose up when I noticed Leonardo Dicaprio on the cover. I turned the tape around and noticed the incredible landscapes pictured. The images would probably look even better on DVD or in 4K but I didn't mention it and just nodded. It was her routine, not mine, and I was extremely curious to find out more about her.

"Nop, never."

"It's a good movie, with a few French actors."

I followed her to pay and the guy behind the counter smiled and nodded. "Ah, nice one."

"I know right? I think I'm gonna keep this one."

"A movie where Leonardo Dicaprio goes nuts? Good idea to keep it." he added, making her chuckle.

"And the girl is nice to look at, too." Millie added, making the guy nod frenetically.

I looked around the place, quite surprised at how many choices they had. How many nice places like this was I missing on? And why didn't I ever hear about them?

"What did you mean when you said you'd keep this one?" I asked when we walked out.

"Oh, when I bring back three movies, I can trade it for one. I do that sometimes."

I turned to look at her and she did the same just to send me a smile before turning her head back in front of her. We kept walking but I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I thought I knew Millie but I had just realized that there were so many things about her that she didn't share and that I didn't take the time to ask, I knew that even if our friendship was not recent, our bond and how close we were was pretty new but at the same time, I felt like there were things I should know about her.

I should have checked where I was going because once again, I ended up running into a trash can on the sidewalk. Millie started laughing and I groaned, taking my hands out of my pockets before getting around it and walking quickly to her.

"Shut up." I mumbled, making her laugh even more.

"You don't seem like the clumsy kind of guy, I'm just surprised every time you run into something, and it seems to happen a lot!"

"Yea yea, how about you stop laughing and we just go back home to watch that movie?"

We had to watch the movie in her room for the simple reason that the videotape recorder was there and it seemed like way too much trouble to plug it in the living room. I made popcorn but Millie opened a few drawers and placed candies on her bed and it made me smile.

"Why don't you buy 6 or 7 movies at the same time? That way you don't have to go back there every day." I proposed, throwing some popcorn in my mouth and leaning against the wall with her.

"I can't know which mood i'll be in. It's a spur of the moment thing." she explained as the movie started. "Plus, I love going there."

"And what do we do after watching the movie?"

"It's dinner. Then shower, a few episodes of a netflix show, and bed time."

We watched the movie for a while and I had to admit the plotline was good, even if a bit fucked up. Millie was also right about the girl : she was very nice to look at and somehow, it made me glance at her.

"That girl is hot as fuck." I admitted, making Millie burst into laughter as she pushed an other candy in her mouth.

"I know right! And she's your type, too! I knew you'd like her!"

I blinked a few times and once again turned to my friend, leaning my head on the wall. I hated when she said that. I knew she didn't mean anything by it but I didn't want to admit that I would use some sort of base or mold to pick a girl. I hated thinking that I was shallow to the point where other girls who were not 'my type' wouldn't catch my eyes or stand a chance with me. And most of all, I hated that Millie saw me like that. I was about to start a discussion about it when Millie talked again, her eyes still glued on the tv.

"What about you?" she glanced at me. "What's your routine?"

I crossed my arms on my chest and shrugged a shoulder as my nose raised up in a grimace. "I don't have a routine anymore. My routine used to be with Grace and when she left, it became netflix from when the sun rises until it would set."

The fact that it was just being clear to me made something twist in my stomach. Who the fuck was I? Could I remember who I was before Grace? And now, with Summer, was I really myself?

I took the sheet out of my back pocket and unfolded it just as Millie handed me a pen and a book to write on. I looked up at her and sent her a small smile before writing under the cons in Grace's column. 'She decides everything'

"You know, I think that's part of why you annoyed me so much." Millie admitted. I looked up from the sheet and sent her a frown. Her traits softened and she sent me a sorry smile. "She would just tell you what she wanted and what to do and you'd never argue. She was bossy and controlling."

I couldn't pretend she was not right and I nodded with a sigh. "You know the worst? Summer is exactly the opposite. She's super compliant and it can get quite annoying."

Millie raised her eyebrows at me. "Well I guess you found something to write in the cons for Summer."

I sighed again but louder this time before looking down at my sheet again. I wrote down what I had just said and shook my head a bit. It was pathetic that the first things I thought about writing were flaws and I closed my eyes, letting my head fall against the wall in a loud noise after closing my eyes. "This is ridiculous, I can't choose."

"Hey, relax, it's just day one."

I felt my friend move on the bed and forced myself to open my eyes, noticing Millie was now facing me with a small smile. "We have 6 more days to fill that sheet." she slapped gently my thigh with the back of her hand and licked her lips as they curled more. "Trust me."

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eideticmemory · 5 years ago

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EVER SINCE NEW YORK | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 1! - for Sara [@bravadostyles], the ultimate muse.

SOUNDTRACK:

Empire State of Mind - Jay Z.

Animals - Maroon 5.

Dopamine - Børns.

Word Count: 4,731.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Spring, Freshman Year.

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City.

“You’ve got that face on,” Claire said.

“What face is that, Claire?”

“Your trademark ready-to-go-home face,” she giggled. “You tired?”

“Just a little,” you whispered, head resting on her shoulder, feet hanging off the bed. “Had a long day at rehearsal.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Well, if you wanna go, we can go. I’ll walk you home.”

“No,” you shook your head, and placed your hand on her arm. “It’s fine. I’m having a good time.”

Soft music played through the small speakers on Jonathan’s desk, mixing in with the chatter of your friends. Everyone sat in different spaces around the room, some on the desk, some on John’s bed, and you and Claire rested on his roommate’s bed. Open solo cups of beer were scattered amongst the room. It was calm, chill, and then the door swung open.

“Yoooooo!” The entering voice rang, instantly earning a happy response from Johnathan, who hopped off his bed and ran towards the entrance.

“Gube!” John exclaimed, arms open wide to embrace his friend. He always got a little touchy-feely when he was tipsy. “Where the hell you been, man?”

“Consider my good time ruined,” you murmured to Claire.

“Be nice, [y/n],” she responded, patting your leg. “Everyone’s having a nice time, don’t start anything.”

“Me? Me? I don’t start anything, I never start anything. It’s him who starts it. That di—“

“Hey, [y/n],” Matthew greeted, taking a seat beside John. “Hey, Claire.”

“Hey, Gube,” Claire smiled. She gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow.

You rolled your eyes, “Hi, Matthew,” you reluctantly replied, refusing to make eye contact.

“Aw, c’mon, that’s all I get?” Matthew teased. “What’s wrong, sleeping beauty? You tired?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you told him, finally looking over at him. He wore a white polo, paired with a busted pair of jeans and white converse with his mismatched socks poking out. On his chest sat his trademark gold chain, the medallion set in the center of his sternum.

“Might be past your bedtime,” he shrugged. “Really. Might be better if you just left.”

“Me?” You scoffed. “Why don’t you leave? We were perfectly fine before you got here.”

“Oh, God,” someone groaned. “Here they go.”

“John wants me here. I’m a little more fun than someone who falls asleep mid-conversation, so I can see why.”

“Matthew, why are you talking to me? Can you just pretend,” you waved your arms around. “Pretend there’s a wall here.”

“Don’t mind her,” Claire interjected. “She’s crabby because she hasn’t started editing her project yet.”

You gasped, “Why would you just announce that, Claire? I didn’t wanna be reminded of that.”

“[y/n], you’re gonna be fucked if you don’t get that shit done. It’s due next week.” Another friend told you.

You groaned, “Yes. I know that. But I’ve been killing myself practicing for the show every night. And when I finally sat down to start editing, I didn’t know how to work the damn software!”

“You don’t know how to work EasyEdit?”

“No,” you sighed. “I missed class that day. I tried to learn on YouTube, and that confused me even more. So, I have since then given up.”

“Hm,” John hummed. “You know who’s really good with EasyEdit?”

“Who?”

“Gube,” John answered. This prompted Matthew to lift his head up at astronomical speed, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He taught me how to use it. He could help you, [y/n].”

“John...” Claire said.

“What, Claire?” John replied. “[y/n] needs help and Gube can help. I’m just saying.”

You cut your eyes over to Matthew, who was watching you, but he quickly turned away when you made eye contact.

“You’re not clever,” Claire shook her head. “You’re nosey is what you are.”

“Nosey?” You pipped, tapping Claire’s arm. “What do you mean nosey?”

“I mean, if you and Gube just...” John said. “I’m gonna say it - fucked - one good time, the two of you could get over this whole rivalry already.”

“And stop arguing all the damn time,” someone added. “The shit’s annoying.”

Your jaw had been dropped since the word ‘fucked’ was uttered. You looked up at Claire who gave you a sympathetic smile.

“I-“ You stuttered. “I...never say that again, John! Ever. Ew!”

“Ew?” Matthew exclaimed. “You’d be lucky if I tossed you a bone.”

Your jaw dropped even lower, stunned by Matthew’s words. “You arrogant son of a bitch,” you muttered. “And this is who you want me to allow near my final project?” You directed at John.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna fuck me, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Matthew taunted, biting his lip and tilting his head.

“No. I don’t wanna fuck you! I also don’t want to spend any more time with you than I absolutely have to. So I will learn EasyEdit by myself.”

“Okay,” Matthew shrugged. “You’re not gonna figure that shit out in time, but fine, princess. Be stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance.

“[y/n], let Gube help,” Claire said. “You’re gonna drive yourself insane with that and the show coming up, plus finals? Just this once.”

You looked over at Matthew, instantly getting angry again. Hate is a strong word. It’s a very, very strong word. And you’d never use it against anybody. Ever. Except Matthew Gubler. That may sound a bit dramatic, so to clear up any confusion, here’s a composite list of every asshole, dick, bastard, bitch-ass move he’s made in one semester:

1. Broke your editing equipment trying to do magic tricks in class.

2. Didn’t apologize.

3. Called your last documentary “uninspired, dry, a little like a lullaby.”

4. Took the last spot for an internship over Christmas break.

5. Which he knew you wanted.

6. Refused to partner with you on a final project because “you can’t even get to class everyday.”

7. In front of everyone because he’s a jackass.

8. Told you that you were insane for majoring in film making AND ballet.

9. Proceeded to tell you that you look better in a leotard than a suit.

10. Fucked your roommate.

11. While you were in the room.

12. Insisted that Wes Craven is a better horror director than Tim Burton? Is he dumb?

13. Calls you ballerina barbie, short stack, princess, anything other than your actual name.

14. Won’t drop dead.

And, because you’re not going to let anyone treat you that way, here’s a list of things you’ve done in retaliation:

1. “Accidentally” stepped on his canvas.

2. 3 times.

3. Uploaded a video of you calling him a dick in place of his documentary.

4. Yes, he did play it for the class on accident.

5. Told him you didn’t want to be his partner anyway since he walks around stoned 24/7.

6. Laughed.

7. Told him he’d be a good ballerina. His tiny dick would fit perfectly in a leotard.

8. Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project.

9. Told him none of Edgar Allan Poe’s work was actually interesting enough for screen time. (He almost passed out, he got so mad.)

10. Told him his mismatch socks were dumb.

11. Consistently call him asshole, dick, jackass, or just Matthew. All synonyms.

12. Refuse to let him mess with you.

So, the idea of him helping you with your project, coming into your room, bothering you for hours on end, was a ridiculous thought. You should punch John for even mentioning it. Except. It wasn’t a bad idea.

“Hey, pants stay on,” Matthew said, giving you a smirk. “Boy Scouts honor.”

Everyone was looking at you. It made you queasy. Annoyed. Angry. And you couldn’t take it. So, you sighed heavily and cut your eyes towards Matthew. “Fine,” you grimaced. “Fine. Monday night. You will teach me how to use EasyEdit. And then we can all drop this.”

“Ah, success,” John cheered. “I’m not worried, though. Look at [y/n], she’s so innocent. She looks like she belongs on top of a Christmas tree. She does ballet for crying out loud. I doubt fucking is on her to-do list.”

“And on that note,” you pushed yourself off the bed. “I’m going to my room. Goodnight.”

Your room was just down the hall, and you showered, changed, brushed your teeth and got into bed in all of 30 minutes. Just about to fall asleep, you were disturbed by the sound of keys jingling in the door. Sloppy footsteps stumbled into the room, accompanied by silly giggles.

Thinking you were asleep, your roommate admired your sleeping frame, “Awwww,” she cooed. “Precious, precious, [y/n].” She walked over to you and rubbed your shoulder.

“You’re crazy to not wanna fuck Matthew,” she whispered, chuckling. “You don’t know what you’re missing, kid.”

And you stayed still, silent, pretended to snore. All while Claire crawled into her bed.

When Monday rolled around, you spent the entire day with a chip on your shoulder. Claire kissed the top of your head and insisted you’d be fine, that your project would be done by the end of the night and you’d be grateful for Matthew’s help. But she knew that was a dead cause in her heart of hearts. You both knew it’d be a miracle if Matthew and you made it through 15 minutes of editing.

When she left to go to a friend’s place, you changed into pajama pants, combined with a cozy cropped button sweater. You sat at your desk, and waited. You’d told Matthew to arrive at 7.

He got there at 7:59.

By then, you were laying in bed, pissed and upset that you’d actually been convinced to give Matthew a chance. He knocked on the door, and you answered with an attitude. “Go home, Matthew.”

“Don’t be like that, short stack,” he sighed, following you as you stomped into the room. “I got caught up. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? What’d you get caught up with? A gram?” You spit.

He laughed, “Haha, so funny. No, I was not getting high. I was working on my own project. That I finished. Ahead of time. Can you relate, [y/n]?”

“Get out of my room,” you scoffed. “I asked you for one thing. One. And you couldn't even do that. You knew how important this project was to me, and you didn’t give a fuck. I wasted time waiting for you that I could’ve been working or rehearsing! I—Are you listening?”

Matthew’s eyes had been concentrated solely on your chest, “Are you wearing a bra?” He asked.

You took a step back, stunned, blinking rapidly as you searched around the room. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m just trying to find where the hell that came from?”

“It came from that itty bitty shirt you’re wearing,” he replied with a shrug. “Doesn’t really leave much to the imagination.”

“Stop staring at my tits!” You shouted, face turning red. “God, Matthew, I can’t stand to look at you right now. Just, leave. Please.”

He did not stop staring at your tits. Not for a very long time. But when he did, he had this look in his eyes. Like a wire had snapped. And he kissed you. Cupped your face in his hands, pulled you close, and kissed you. You pressed your hands against his chest, face contorting in shock and confusion.

You pushed him away, lips retracting with a sharp smacking noise. Saliva dripped from your lips, and you stood there, huffing and puffing like the two of you had just run a mile. “What the hell was that?” You snapped, your fingertips lightly touching your bottom lip.

He didn’t reply. He was just as speechless as you were. Speechless, and confused, and out of breath, and so, so pretty. He was so pretty. Has he always been that pretty?

You grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and pulled him back in, pressing your lips together in an aggressive collision. Matthew’s hand gripped onto your hair, his body pushing itself against yours in an eager attempt to get as close to you as possible. His other hand made its way to your waist, gripping onto your skin so hard, his nails left marks. Both his hands began to snake down your body, landing on the back of your thighs.

Very suddenly, Matthew scooped you up in his arms, yanking your feet off of the ground. You let out a breathy ‘oof’ as you found yourself perched in his grasp, your legs wrapped around his torso, your hands on his shoulders. He supported your weight so easily, all while sliding his tongue into your mouth.

He carried you over to your bed, where he abruptly dropped you onto the mattress, and looked down at you with a lustful grin. Standing beside the bed, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you — slowly, with his hands reaching out to touch your body — but he didn’t. Instead, he placed his hands on your ribs and pushed your sweater up, over your breasts to reveal your chest.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

Your breath caught in your throat, before you released it shakily. His lips wrapped around your nipple, wetting it with his tongue and applying light suction. A soft moan left your mouth, and you gripped onto his hair in ecstasy. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He sucked harder, to the point of pain, just to hear you make some noise. Any noise. When one nipple began to pulse between his lips, he moved to the other, leaving a trail of love bites between them.

The heat between your legs was suffocating, and you rubbed your thighs together for some relief. Matthew noticed this, and proceeded to stick his hands down your pants, fingers sliding underneath the band of your underwear. He smirked at how soaked you were already and rubbed your clit as he licked a trail up to your neck. You tightened your thighs around his hand, gasping at the friction and pulling at the bedsheets.

The sound caused Matthew to take in a sharp breath of air. His cock was pressed against the zipper of his jeans, and was getting to the point that it was excruciating. So, as he massaged your nerve, he undid his pants and pushed them down his legs.

He nibbled on your ear, and as you gave him a quiet moan, your eyes flickered down to look between your bodies. Flushed, and horny, and suddenly so desperate, you grabbed onto Matthew’s large erection and pressed the tip against your clit.

He grunted and pulled back to stare you in the eye, a sly grin creeping onto his face. He laughed, “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Innocent? Innocent, my ass.”

As you rolled your eyes at him, he kissed your lips softly, hands holding onto your thighs. You positioned his cock at your entranced and allowed him to press into you. He stood up straight, watching his cock disappear inside you, slowly, steadily, before he suddenly slammed into you. The sound of skin colliding on skin mixed in with your and Matthew’s moans, and he watched your head roll back in pleasure.

He licked his lips, smirking. And he did it again. And again. And again. Pulling out all the way and pushing back into you. Hard. The sensation struck your chest, and elicited vulnerable moans from you every time he pounded you. Matthew instantly began to speed his hips up, nails digging into your thighs as he pressed your legs open for him. His used all his strength to fuck you, your head knocking into the wall with every thrust. It was sloppy and messy and you couldn’t stop whimpering. Your eyes were screwed shut, and when you opened them again, the first thing you noticed with his chain. The gold medallion dangled in your face, Matthew’s lips pressed against your cheek.

Absentmindedly, you tangled your fingers in the chain, tugging on it as your volume increased. “Fuck,” you muttered. “Oh, fuck.”

He brought his hand up to your face, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, quietly, softly. And you did it without thinking. His thumb slid into your mouth, twirling around your tongue and stifling your moans.

He removed his hand and placed his thumb on your clit, wetting the skin with your own saliva. You let out a loud yelp at the new sensation, and a bubble instantly formed in your stomach.

Oh, no, not Matthew, you thought. Don’t let it be Matthew.

But with his cock and his hips and the way he kissed your neck and rubbed your sensitive nerve all at once. You came, you came with a fit of pornographic moans, trembling and writhing around on the bed.

And it was Matthew — the first guy to make you come. Ever.

He licked his lips as he watched you come undone beneath him, proud of himself — to the point of cockiness. Giving you a few more forceful pumps, he pulled out of you and released himself onto your chest, watching the fluid cover the hickies he’d left there.

He looked angelic on top of you, moaning, panting, swearing under his breath. But the moment he finished, he stepped back, fastened his pants and walked away. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him in a daze.

Matthew logged onto your computer, pressed a few buttons and then closed the laptop shut. Then he left.

However, the next day he sent you an email. Your project. Fully and perfectly edited.

Okay. So, that happened. They said it would happen and it happened. Didn’t necessarily make you hate Matthew any less, but it happened. It was good. You hated to admit it. And it was all you could think about. You couldn’t even touch yourself or hold your pillow without thinking of Matthew. It was bad.

Especially, given the fact that after the whole situation, he decided not to talk to you. At all. Not in class, not while hanging out with friends, not even to pick a fight. Complete and utter radio silence. He looked at you enough though. Not while you were looking at him, of course. So, as far as you knew, you were far off of his mind. But life had to go on. You had to focus on school, and on top of that, you were due to perform in NYU’s production of Swan Lake in less than two weeks.

You landed the main role of Odette, meaning for the next two weeks, you had to eat, sleep, breathe ballet. You practiced for hours on end, barely saw your friends, which gave you a good break from seeing Matthew.

Opening night rolled around and you were so nervous, you thought you might puke. Only a freshman, it was a miracle you landed the role in the first place, which meant your performance tonight was a make or break moment. Claire could tell you were sick to your stomach and tried to distract you by taking a bunch of pictures on her phone.

“Smile, pretty girl!” She beamed, the flashing going off in your face as you posed. “[y/n], you’re gonna kill it! I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited?”

“Yeah...” you whispered. “Deathly excited.”

“Aw, poor baby,” she swung her arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna be front and center, cheering you on. Just focus on me, okay?”

You smiled and nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Okay.”

Your body was on autopilot out on stage. The movements you’d practiced everyday, for hours and hours on end, just flowed. The lighting in the audience was dark, but you could just barely make out Claire’s figure under the soft hue.

It wasn’t until the finale, when you stood ready for your closing performance, that the lights switched to their full intensity and you noticed a hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. An arm resting behind her head. Someone whispering in her ear, making her laugh.

Matthew.

He was here. He was here and he was with Claire. He was with Claire and he was watching you. And it made your stomach feel weird. But then the music kicked up. So, you had to go. You fell into your dance, your rhythm and for some reason, you could not stop staring at Matthew.

Every twirl, you made him your focal point. Looking at him again, and again, and again. Until the lights went out.

Supporting ballerinas cheered you on as you walked offstage, throwing flowers at your feet and giving you applause. Your instructor marched right up to you, kissed both sides of your face and embraced you. It was a wonderful feeling, but right then, you were drained, emotionally, mentally, physically, you needed some rest.

You locked yourself away in your dressing room, taking a seat in the mirror and beginning to remove your tights. Pressing a makeup wipe to your skin, you jumped, startled by a knock on the door. You rose from your seat and walked to the entrance casually, expecting Claire to greet you.

 But you froze, as soon as you opened the door. Eyes glazing over the person in front you, your breath caught in your throat. “Matthew.”

“Hey,” he smiled. He looked you up and down — your naked legs, your breasts poking through the thin material of the leotard. “You...you were amazing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Bye.”

You attempted to close the door on him, but his put his elbow against the frame, stopping it in motion. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, pushing his way into the room. “What the hell is your problem?” He closed the door behind him.

“My problem is that I’m very tired, and still need to change, and greet everyone waiting for me. So, I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

You ducked your head down, “Nothing. Nothing. You need to leave.”

“Hey, hey, hey, ballerina barbie,” he mocked. “What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal! I have nothing to say to you Matthew. Same way you have nothing to say to me.” You scrunched up your face in a frown.

“I...” he paused, laughing under his breath. “I never said I didn’t have something to tell you. In fact, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked up at him — the gel in his hair, his black button down shirt flowing over his belt buckle, his dark eyes, his lips and the way they were pouting just a little. And like a magnet, you found yourself being pulled towards him. You jumped into his arms, hands on his face, and connecting your lips, mouths open, tongues touching.

Matthew held you up, moaning against your lips. “Mm,” you hummed. “Wait, what if someone comes in?”

Matthew thought quickly, hiking you up in his arms and shoving your back against the door. “Well, now they can’t get in, can they?” He mumbled, leaving kisses along your neck.

Your jaw dropped and you started to undo his belt, freeing his cock from his pants. He grunted against your skin as you stroked him, your head leaned back against the door, your chest heaving. You used your other hand to pull your leotard to the side, revealing your throbbing core.

Matthew smirked, letting you guide his dick to your entrance, and pushed his way into you swiftly. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck to keep yourself quiet. His thrusts were quick, rough, messy. He was much more vocal this time, making no effort to stay silent.

“Fuck,” he moaned in your ear. “F-fuck, I forgot how good your pussy is. Fuck.”

The feeling was mutual. For the past month, you’d be wondering what the hell about Matthew had you so stuck. So fixated on him. And this was it. He filled you up perfectly, could manhandle you however he wanted, and always, always made sure you came.

He fucked you harder when he noticed your orgasm nearing — your quickened breaths, frequent moans and whines, and your legs tightening against his torso. “Oh, my God,” you whimpered.

“Shit, are you gonna come?” He asked. “Good.”

Breathless, speechless, you stared into his eyes helplessly as your body began to crumble. All power left your body and you held onto his shirt for dear life. He gave you a small smile, and flipped his hair out of his face, looking down at his cock. He could pinpoint the exact stroke that did it. The one that sent you into a state of euphoria, sent your eyes rolling back, your body into intense shock.

You let out a long and weakened sigh as the wave washed over you, and Matthew continued to plow into you like nothing was happening.

“It’s so cool how your pussy tightens up when you come,” he chuckled. “It’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice, clawing at the back of his neck. His breathing became ragged and hoarse, and he had to pull out of you before he came. He jerked himself off until he exploded onto your clothing. And with you being dressed in all black, his stains stood out perfectly on your costume.

This time, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before he left.

The week after that was finals week. And neither of you could be bothered to reach out. Despite the not-so-subtle confession of bitterness and the very intense orgasms you shared, you and Matthew simply went back to not talking. Your friends thought it was strange, even commented that they missed the bickering. The two of you shrugged in response.

Most of your dorm room was in boxes by the time you finished your last final exam. Claire was slower to pack up than you were, considering she only lived an hour away, but she applauded you for your determination. The day Claire did start packing was the day before you left for the summer. The two of you spent the day getting everything cleared out, cleaned, squared away.

While the two of you sat on your bed, watching Netflix, a knock sounded from your door. Claire hopped up and headed towards the entrance, opening it with a grand smile. “Gube!” She shouted, instantly opening her arms for a hug. Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up, carrying her into the room with a smile.

“Are you about to leave?” She asked him, holding onto his arms as he placed her feet back on the ground.

“Yeah, my mom’s here. So, I wanted to stop by and say goodbye,” he nodded.

“Aw, Gube, you softie,” she giggled. “[y/n], come say bye.”

“I can say bye from right here, Claire,” you replied. She gave you a look, and you felt compelled to get off the bed. So you did, you approached them, “Bye, Matthew.”

“Bye, shortcake,” he laughed. “Bye, Claire.” He pulled your roommate into another hug, while you stood there, crossing your arms in annoyance.

Matthew peeked at you over Claire’s shoulder. One hand rubbed her back and the other reached out to you, holding a small note.

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, then the note, then Claire. You ripped the paper from his hand, and stuffed it into your pocket right away. He smirked at you, and turned his attention back to Claire.

“Hey,” he said to her. “Come back to my place, I want everyone there to show my mom I actually have friends.”

Claire chuckled and nodded, “Okay,” she shrugged. “Let’s go. [y/n], you coming?”

“Uh, no,” you shook your head. “I’m gonna keep packing, but I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Claire smiled, and she let Matthew whisk her away.

You sighed, and as soon as the door closed, you pulled the crumpled piece of paper from your pocket. You opened it up to reveal — not a meaningful message, not even a few words. Just one string of numbers, writing in his handwriting:

505.

[PART 2.]

#mine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fic #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler/reader #matthew gray gubler smut #college!matthew #esny

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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 9 - ‘The Kindest of Kisses Break the Hardest of Hearts”

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 (swear I’ll make a masterlist soon)

Summary: Back in London, you find unexpected help in the form of Ives. But when Neil comes back sparks fly... ✨

Warnings: Swearing.

Author’s Notes: So here’s the chapter I’m incredibly excited about... Suppose I should thank Dior for inspiration in this one. Hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing the last scene! Please let me know what you think!

You did not remember the last time you were this happy to be back in London. After the mission in Paris was done, Jasper went back to Boston, and you were free to do what you wanted. You contacted TP, told him how the mission went (without certain details), and in return, got told to wait for more information regarding the next steps. By your estimation, it was less than two weeks left till Kiev and the day when the mysterious plan will be set into motion. You were scared.

Ever since that day in Paris when Neil called, you had a difficult time maintaining normal conversation with him. He would message asking about something as mundane as how your day went, and you would only respond with a short sentence. You could not really explain it if asked. It was as though after hearing his voice and letting yourself have that conversation with him, all the doubts came back with a tripled strength. Suddenly you could almost believe Jasper and his harsh words suggesting that you were not important in Neil’s eyes. Maybe he just liked flirting, and you were conveniently there? That sounded rather plausible. Ever since you started naming those thoughts, an ache in your chest was hard to ignore. And so you did the best you could, which in this case meant low-key ghosting Neil and losing yourself in training and work.

Surely with enough time and space, you would get over it (him), right?

That was the state of your mind the day when rather surprising help appeared. You have been back in London for a few days and have not really interacted with anyone. Usually, you would spend two hours in the shooting range and then in a sparring session. After you were done, you would retreat to your room and try to ignore the texts that were still occasionally coming.

“How’s London treating you? Say hello to Anna from me” you glanced at the screen and frowned.

The instant temptation to text back was still there. Only now, it was tainted with much more anxiety and uncertainty.

“It’s alright, rather quiet. I haven’t seen her around though. Maybe she’s moping after you”

Like I am? You sighed and chose to focus on notes from the physics class. You were saved from the study by an unexpected knock on the door. Without thinking, you got up and opened it, only to see Ives standing there with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Hi” you muttered, worried you have forgotten how to behave like a human being.

“Hello, love” he grinned “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No, I was actually rather bored” you admitted with a sheepish smile.

You heard the distinct buzz of a text message but chose to ignore it. You were slowly getting better at the game.

“That’s terrific because I thought we could have a coffee in the canteen and chat” Ives’ thick cockney accent was somewhat adorable.

And you could definitely do with a distraction.

“I’d love that” you beamed back at him and left the room, locking the door behind you.

As you walked side by side along the corridor, you struggled to say something.

“How did you know I’m here?” finally you settled for a rather easy question.

“I’ve seen you at the shooting range in the morning” he watched you closely for a short moment “You’re fucking amazing, did you know that?”

“Oh no, I’m really not” you felt your face heat up.

“Yeah you are” he playfully nudged you in the side “You could probably teach me a thing or two”.

You glared at him and then quickly considered your options.

“Only if you taught me how not to be knocked out within the first two minutes of the hand in hand combat” you knew you could use help in that department.

“Deal?” Ives stopped and turned to you with an outstretched hand.

“Deal” you shook it with a grin.

Once you made it to the mess hall, you noticed with relief that it was rather quiet. You both made coffee and sat down at the table in the corner. After a few moments of comfortable silence when you sipped your drinks, Ives spoke up:

“What have you been up to?” he was eyeing you curiously.

Even though you barely knew him, you felt at ease. There was no enigma of TP to him or Neil’s intensity. Instead, he was just a friendly bloke with sharp wits.

“Oh you know, shit mission in New York and now even shittier one in Paris” you frowned at the fresh memories “Though I suppose the recent one at least ended with success” you mused.

It was true not all of your missions have ended with a huge fuck up. And that was somewhat encouraging.

“With Jasper?”

“Yeah” your frown deepened, and Ives grinned.

“My condolences. He’s a right pain in the ass”

“Well said” you laughed, finally feeling some of the tension of the last few days dissolve.

But it was not meant to be for long. Before either of you spoke again, you heard your phone buzz. You took it out of the pocket and glanced at the received text. It was him, of course. You grimaced and placed the phone screen down on the table as if to avoid the temptation. All the while you felt Ives’s attentive gaze. He has not missed a thing.

“Neil?” he asked, watching you closely with a neutral face.

“Yeah…” you shrugged, avoiding his stare “I’ll probably sound pathetic… but do you know where he is?”

Once the question was out of your mouth, you felt your cheeks heat up. It was one thing to worry about him daily. Another to actually voice the worries. But Ives did not seem to mind. He quickly considered something before leaning over the table.

“He’s in India, dealing with some sudden disruption. I was there with him in the beginning” at your unspoken question, he added “He’s fine, often said that’s partially thanks to you” he eyed you carefully, and you looked down at the table, flustered.

“It’s more that if I wasn’t there, he wouldn’t even need help in the first place” you mumbled, feeling the guilt gnaw at your heart.

Still, sometimes you kept wondering why on earth had he decided to shield you back in the bar. But any possible answer to the question meant having to assume something about Neil’s intentions. And that was dangerous territory.

“Should I ask?” Ives’ question brought you back to the present moment.

“Better not” you smiled wryly, and he just nodded.

“He wouldn’t shut up about you sometimes, you know” he spoke up again after a short silence, making you look up.

You were not sure you liked the cheeky smirk that appeared on Ives’ face. You were not going to give in.

“He’ll get over it in no time, I’m sure” you feigned nonchalance as you finished your coffee and met his gaze.

“Are you two good?”

You just shrugged. To be frank, you had no clue how to answer that. Was there even such an entity as ‘you two’ when it came to you and Neil?

“Well, whatever is going on, know that I’m ready to slap some sense into him if needed” Ives grinned at you, and you beamed back.

“Appreciated”

The next few minutes passed in companionable silence. That is until your brain rudely decided to suggest another pressing question.

“Is he there… alone?” you cringed as soon as you said it aloud.

No point in trying to sound disinterested…

“Nah, Wheeler stayed with a couple of others” his stare was way too knowing.

You felt a sharp stab of pain in your heart. What even… There was no reason to be jealous. Right? As you were internally debating what the new feelings were supposed to mean, you failed to notice Ives’ grinning at your distress.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous” he was enjoying it way too much.

“What? No, I’m not” you tried to scoff at this insinuation but failed miserably.

“Yeah, you are” that’s how you learnt that Ives had his own version of a shit-eating grin.

Was that a part of the Tenet work application?

“Mate, Neil and Wheeler wouldn’t fuck each other even if I paid them. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you” Ives wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you groaned.

You glared at him, unable to come up with any good response.

“What? I may have only seen you two together once, but it was clear to me that dear Neil is interested. Very much so” he smirked at your wide-eyed stare “But I don’t think that’s in any way news for you” he squinted his eyes as though trying to see right through your soul.

“Please, let’s leave psychoanalysis for another date” you grabbed the phone from the table and looked at him pleadingly.

“Of course” he grinned “When shall we have our first sparring lesson?”

“Tomorrow morning. Be there at 9” you got up “Thanks for the chat”

“Anytime, love” he waved as you left the canteen.

*** Combat lessons with Ives have proven to be a gift from the gods in the days that followed. He would accompany you to the shooting range afterward as well under the pretence of wanting to learn from you. Even though you were sure it was utter bullshit as he could hit the marks as well as you, if not better, you appreciated the sentiment. To say that his help in the sparring sessions meant you have greatly improved would be an overstatement, but certainly, additional tips slowly started to make a difference. All that distraction meant you also spent much less time wondering about Neil’s whereabouts and asking yourself existential questions about your own feelings. That was probably the best outcome of the situation.

Another morning of the sparring session began with you and Ives meeting in the gym as usual.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as you entered the gym.

“More or less” you grinned, stifling a yawn.

Last night you spent way too much time overthinking the text exchange with Neil. All it took was for him to mention ‘the fun you had in New York’ and then compare it to the recent night undercover. To you, it meant that Jasper was right, and you were just another ‘flirting companion’. And that shit hurt.

“That will have to do then” he tossed a water bottle in your direction, and you caught it easily.

You set it down on the side and the mat and stood facing Ives. After a short warm-up, he began showing you the way of blocking punches aimed at your upper body. While the demonstration always looked easy, once you went onto the practice, you have begun to struggle. After getting a third light punch to the shoulder, you huffed:

“Maybe I should just give up and become a sniper” you rubbed the aching spot.

“That could work” he grinned “Though I’m not sure how Neil would feel about that career change”

“Fuck Neil” you made sure to put up your guard, expecting another punch.

“I see how it is” Ives smirked before he threw a hit towards your other shoulder.

This one you blocked. And the one afterward as well. Slowly, with only a few mistakes, you got the hang of the game. That is until you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat by the door. You both turned to see Anna standing there.

“Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment?” she sent you a fake smile.

Christ…

“Of course”

You looked at Ives with panic in your eyes before you followed her into the corridor. Anna was clearly uncomfortable with having to talk to you, and that did not ease the tension.

“What’s the matter?” you spoke up first, hating the awkwardness of the moment.

“Neil called me yesterday” she paused, and you frowned.

“Yeah?” if she wanted to torture you, she has succeeded.

“He wanted me to let you know that they got Steiner in New York” despite Anna’s best attempts at keeping her face neutral, you knew she was enjoying this.

“Okay, thanks” you smiled weakly, trying to ignore the jealousy building up in your chest.

“Oh, and he says he should be back next week” now she was smiling dazzlingly.

“Great” you mumbled and showed her your brightest grin “Thank you”

With that, you chose to end the tortures for you both and went back into the gym. At Ives’ questioning stare, you just glared. He understood instantly.

“Fuck Neil?” he offered you a sip from the water bottle, which you gladly accepted.

“Mhmm”

There was so much to unpack from what Anna told you. Partially, you knew your ghosting was to be blamed for the situation but still, it hurt. Especially the unspoken fact that Neil has called her. You knew you were being ridiculous but could not ignore the feelings that were attacking every fibre of your being.

“Ready for another round?” Ives looked at you worriedly.

“Absolutely”

*** A few days later, as you left a meeting covering suspicious activity around London, your head was most certainly elsewhere. Ever since the awkward situation with Anna, you were not sure what to do with yourself. Only carefree moments were those you spent in the shooting range or learning hand to hand combat with Ives, who was surprisingly great at distracting you.

Walking along the corridor, you were too busy worrying about all those texts you have ignored to see where you were going. With eyes trained on the floor, you barely registered the surroundings. And that is why you were incredibly surprised when you unexpectedly collided with something solid standing on your path.

“Fuck” you muttered before slowly realising that you have, in fact, walked into a person.

You felt someone’s hands reach out to steady you by wrapping around your waist. The next thing you registered was the smell. A very familiar one that you have tried to repress from memory for the past few weeks. You felt panic surge through your whole body before you let out a long exhale and lifted your head.

“Didn’t expect our reunion to be that dramatic, but I’m not complaining” Neil grinned at you with that smug look on his face you have grown to hate.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you” you choose to stare at his tie.

A nice burgundy one which he has worn in New York, during the mission. At the memory, your cheeks grew somehow warmer, and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to be swallowed by the earth. But to no avail.

“Are you alright?” his voice broke through the increasing paralysis.

“Yeah” you forced yourself to look up at him again.

The concern in his eyes only made your desire to run stronger. But his grip on your waist was unyielding. You were acutely aware of standing in the middle of the corridor. Anyone could pass by and see you like that. But it looked like Neil did not care.

“I tried calling you last night” his voice was tense.

Shit.

“Sorry I was busy” you were a terrible liar.

And, of course, he saw right through you. You noticed how the look in his eyes went from concern to serious worry, and you desperately wanted to flee the scene. He was studying your face, and you tried to look anywhere but at him. After a beat, he must have found some answers in your conflicted expression because he relaxed the grip on your waist, giving you a way out.

“If I said anything wrong…” you were thrown off by the slightly wounded look in his eyes.

Now that you actually could run away, you did not want to. Not without making sure he understood.

“You haven’t” you took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing heart “It’s… just things that Jasper said and stuff… it made me think” you mentally groaned, annoyed at how you could not form a coherent sentence.

But Neil understood as he nodded and reached for your hand. You let him lead you to a quieter spot in the adjacent corridor. You were still paralyzed with conflicting feelings, but now also curious. The voice in the back of your head kept on reminding you how much you have missed him. You had your back pressed against the wall and stared as he slowly stepped closer, making your personal space non-existent. It was suddenly hard to think about the reasons why you should not let him be this close. The look in his eyes was unreadable to you.

“I don’t know what that idiot told you or what’s going on in your head, but it’s all wrong” you felt his free hand slide up your arm to rest on your neck and gently caress the skin there.

It was embarrassing how you responded to his touch with your body tensing and goosebumps appearing where his fingers made contact with your skin. It was hard to lie, even to yourself.

“Why should I believe you?” your voice sounded breathless already.

You knew you should have never let him get this close before you talked. But still, the way he looked at you was surprising. Any train of thought was interrupted when he brushed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. His eyes were darker than usual, and the intensity of his gaze alone made the flutters in your stomach appear.

“I’ve got a few reasons”

Gently he tilted your chin and covered your lips with his. You gasped at the contact and felt him smile against your mouth. Then, as though a switch was flipped, Neil started kissing you hungrily, and you responded in kind, letting your teeth graze his lower lip. When his hand wrapped around your neck, you felt lightheaded and breathless. But still, you deepened the kiss, making all the feelings you have tried to stifle lead the moment. It was scaringly easy to do. Only once you felt like you had no breath left, you broke the kiss and stared back at Neil with a dazed expression. That was not what you expected from your reunion.

“Hope that beat whatever Jasper had to offer you” he grinned, and you enjoyed the sight of his subtly swollen lips.

“Please don’t remind me” surprisingly, you could still form a sentence.

But that ability was soon to be gone as you watched mischievous sparks shine in his eyes. His lips curled into a smirk, and you knew you were fucked. In every meaning of the word. Before you could react, he leaned in closer again, kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down to your jawline, and then crook of the neck.

“Neil…” you breathed out, trying to somehow stop the situation from getting out of your hands.

“Yes?” he interlocked his fingers with yours, pinning your joined hands to the wall.

Perfect leverage. Thinking was getting increasingly difficult.

“I… I’ve missed you” that was not exactly what you wanted to say.

You heard him chuckle with his lips brushing the skin on your neck.

“Quite right” he kissed the spot beneath your ear “Too”.

You sighed at the sensation, tightening the grip on his hand and letting your other palm splay on his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, you could feel the fast heartbeat. It was somewhat encouraging to know that it was not just your heart that was beating wildly. He was kissing your neck with something akin to reverence, which made you feel faint. The traces of reason left in your brain started screaming for attention.

“Neil” you huffed, annoyed at how you were unable to voice the mess of thoughts.

Slowly he lifted his head and looked back at you.

“I really like how you say my name” the roguish grin that began it all was back to haunt you “So breathless” his voice was huskier than usual.

He wanted to kill you, evidently.

You met his gaze helplessly, feeling vulnerable with how he could see right through you. He looked almost fascinated by your stunned expression. Then his eyes softened.

“I missed you too” you felt his hand travel down your body to settle on the hip “So much”.

That admission was all it took for you to lose it. Again. You leaned in and initiated another kiss, unable to deny the need you felt. Neil was ready as he easily matched the tempo you have set. This time neither of you wanted to rush it. Instead, you kissed slowly and delicately, enjoying the careless moment. You tangled your hand in his blonde strands, tugging lightly to bring him even closer. He groaned at the sensation, making you feel a new kind of tension. You wanted him to make that sound again. But before you could find ways of achieving that, on the periphery of your attention, you heard the distinctive sound of footsteps approaching fast. Then they stopped abruptly and were replaced with a shocked gasp.

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring straight at Anna. Fuck. She was frozen in the spot three meters away and had a bewildered expression on her face. You knew there was no way in hell she has not realised what was going on. You could only watch as her face scrunched up in a scowl before she turned on her heels and almost ran back down the corridor. That image was enough to help you wake up from the daze. Gently you disentangled from Neil, who looked confused. Despite the reality of the situation downing on you, you grinned seeing his ruffled hair and disoriented gaze.

“Well done, now Anna hates me” you warily eyed the corridor before settling your eyes on him again.

You watched as he slowly absorbed the information, frowned, and then brightened up again when he met your gaze.

“Pretty sure she did already” he eyed you carefully as though assessing the state he brought you to.

Conscious of how you looked, you smoothed your hair and patted your blazed cheeks. There was no pretending that nothing happened, even if you wanted to.

“Why?” you arched your eyebrow at the implication.

“You know why” he just smiled as though it explained everything.

You didn’t know why. At all. You watched as he ruffled his hair even further by combing a hand through it, and your eyes settled on the exposed forearm and rolled up sleeves. For some reason seeing him like that was very thought-provoking. You knew he caught your stare when you heard him chuckle.

“Like what you see?” it was that smug smirk again.

You could not help but roll your eyes at him. This time the voice of reason was not so easily ignored.

“We really should talk before…” you did not even want to finish the sentence.

“Before?” Neil took a step closer again.

“Before we do something much more reckless than… this” you gestured vaguely and took a step back.

“Would that really be so bad?” he bit his lip and eyed you curiously again.

You have had enough. Placing a hand on his chest, you pushed him back. That clearly surprised him.

“Let’s just talk. Please” you put on your best puppy eyes just for him.

That did the job. Thankfully.

“Couldn’t say no to that” he grinned and took your hand in his “C’mon”

Now you just had to figure out what to tell him. The only issue was that you had no idea about how you felt… Fun.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years ago

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Feels Like This (Part 13)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! I am so excited to be back with this story after the month I spent away, and I find it so wild that in that past month so much happened with royals in the actual world. I wouldn’t say it inspired this chapter at all, but it was cathartic to write a story where the Prince and Princess get a much healthier, more healing reception. I know how many of you love this fic, and it definitely has a special place in my heart as well. It’s been so important to me that I do the ending of this story justice, and so it took a bit of time to get my thoughts organized. This is one of the final chapters, and I only anticipate one more actual story installment and then maybe, someday far off in the future, an epilogue or two. That being said, this is a long-awaited milestone for CS and I have attempted to infuse all of my usual cuteness and romance. I hope that you all enjoy, I would love to hear what you think, and thank you all so much for reading!

Gazing out upon the overlook as the sun rose over the tree line in the Montenarran morning, Killian was comforted once more by the vastness of the world and the beauty that danced before him. The light shone with a color and vibrancy he’d come to know and love, but this morning the air hummed with languid layers of anticipation. Maybe it was Killian’s excitement and nerves, but he didn’t think so. No, if anything the world seemed to shimmer today, a sign from above that the timing was right and that he was ready to take this next big step.

The next time I visit this place, I’ll have Emma by my side, he thought to himself, soaking in the comfort of such a plan.

This was on his list of places to share with his Swan, but he reasoned that he had all the time in the world for such gifts. Today, though, he was planning to make that assumption a reality. For finally, after nearly three days of being parted from his love, he was planning to propose, in a way befitting a woman of Emma’s caliber.

Instinctively, Killian’s hand moved to his pocket, drawing out a small black box which held a ring inside. The ring was beautiful and ornate, an overt and ostentatious display of love, but one with inherent meaning. This was the ring his grandfather had given his Gran, a ring forged for the purpose of real and lasting love. It was not exchanged at their wedding, but instead in a private ceremony the two of them shared some weeks later. Their wedding had been arranged, but still they’d found real love. This ring was a gift, however, given at the turning point where Killian’s grandfather knew that his love for his new Queen was more than mere arrangement – it was true and totally transformative.

“Your brother, as reigning monarch, has full claim to your grandfather and my wedding bands, and he will make good use of them with his Elsa, I am utterly assured,” Gran had claimed some weeks back when she stole Killian for a private moment. On that night, she was serious and sincere, most of her deeply playful nature tucked aside for a brief window of time. She glanced at her the matrimonial ring she still wore, years after the death of her dearly departed husband before looking back to Killian with conviction and calm. “The love between them grows each day, and is befitting of what me and your grandfather shared. But this ring I’m giving you, Killy… this ring is something else altogether. This is magic made metal. This is perfectly genuine affection forged into precious gems.”

“It is gorgeous, Gran,” Killian agreed when she presented the ring to him. “But I can’t take something like this from you. Not when it means so much.”

“That’s why you must have it, Killy. If your Grandfather were here, he would say the same. This ring bound us in life, but now we are bound through so much more.”

For the first time in years, likely since the death of his grandfather himself, Killian watched as tears trickled down his Gran’s face. It instantly pierced his heart, for this was a woman who always showed strength. Even when he was on deployment and gone for years on end, his Gran persevered. She may grow misty eyed or get choked up, but tears were a whole different story. Only the memory of her husband could prompt them, and Killian thought to himself not for the first time that she had been so strong for so long, going on without him.

“Our love is forever, living, thriving, singing its song for now and for always. I miss him, every day, every moment, I wish that he was here, but someday we will have each other again. And in the meantime, this ring deserves another union. It was made to be passed through generations. I will confess that I wondered if anyone should ever be worthy of it, if love like ours would find its way here again. But I needn’t have doubted. You and Emma are made for each other, and it would be my honor for Emma to wear this.”

Killian agreed whole heartedly with his Grandmother’s explanation, and he knew no more beautiful stone could be found the world over. This ring bore a remarkable yellow diamond, encircled with smaller stones of the same rare hue. The exact shade sparkled in the sunlight, but almost seemed dipped in the golden glow of a summer’s afternoon. It was pristine and poetic, warm and well beyond the pale, reminding Killian of the highlights in Emma’s hair and the lilt of her laughter. Her joy was precious, more precious than any stone, but as he gazed upon the rock, it felt quintessentially designed for his Swan. It was happy and bright, bold and beautiful, and he knew, despite its flair and size, that Emma would love it.

The only thing left to do is ask her.

The thought breathed new life into Killian, even more so than the Montenarran morning, and he walked back through the forest paths towards the palace once more, energized and ready for the day ahead. He had everything planned and had been working on this for some time. There were many moving pieces, but he’d squared them all away. In the end he would see to it that this was perfect, for that was exactly what his Swan deserved.

Arriving at the palace just after the sunrise, Killian moved with purpose and precision. He had only a little bit of time, and much to accomplish.

“The last of the parcels have been delivered, Your Grace,” one attendant announced as Killian walked through the palace doors. “The bulk of them are here, as you see, though some are in the green house for obvious reasons.”

“Excellent, Jacque. Thank you.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir, it’s just… are you certain you don’t need help arranging things? It’s a significant amount of work here. The staff is happy to assist.”

“I appreciate that offer, Jacque, but I’ve got things well in hand. I’ve been planning this for some time.”

A thoughtful smile appeared at the older man’s face, one that broke the traditional polite protocol and spoke to how long he had known Killian and the royal family. “Of course, Sir. Well, in that case, best of luck.”

Killian took the well wishes to heart, knowing he had a massive task before him. Perhaps he could have given himself more time to bring all of these pieces together, but to him, it already felt like too much time had been wasted. He was more than ready for this next step with Emma, and after three days spent apart, not seeing each other in person, or sharing much more than a few texts and facetimes, he was particularly desirous to see this through. He had been strategizing on how to get this right for quite a while, and by now he knew each assignment down to the letter.

“I assume that your dismissal of Jacques offer goes for us as well?”

Killian glanced up, finding his mother on the stairwell. From here she was stately and elegant, a poised dowager Queen with refinement and grace, but as she descended, she became more herself, and by the time she was in front of Killian, taking his hand in hers, she was no more and no less than a wonderful mother. His greatest support for many years, and someone who he knew would give anything she could to make this moment special.

“It does, at least for this. But with the children arriving in a few hours’ time -,”

“Not to worry on that front,” his mother said cheerily, her own happiness at the thought of all the Institute’s residents coming to the palace for a special premiere outing. “Your Grandmother and I have all in hand, and Liam and Elsa are set to help us. It’ll be a day to remember.”

“Good,” Killian said, looking around and finding his Gran already in full form, instructing the staff as to the desires she had for the outdoor space. Through the glass of the palace’s wall of windows, her words were muddled, but the humor was clear as day. This woman, frail and aged from outward appearance, was a firecracker, ruling over the days designs with an iron fist. “Surprising that Liam is giving Gran such a wide berth.”

“Well how could he not? He’s yet to come down for the day. Hard to give orders from a distance.”

Killian let out a whistle, and laughed as his mother swatted his arm and ‘tutted’ his boyish actions. Knowing when enough was enough, he left unsaid the clear reason that his brother would choose to stay abed so late in the morning. Killian would stake his life on the fact that a certain guest was here within the palace, and that she likely made a visit of the overnight variety.

“What are the chances that Gran doesn’t know?” Killian asked and his mother shook her head.

“Zero.”

“And the likelihood that she will say something?”

“That’s still to be determined.” Killian was shocked at his mother’s genuine opinion. He, for one, thought it undoubtable that Gran would make mention of this moment, gleefully commenting on the need for royal heirs or some such outlandish claim. “Eleanor is direct and prone to speaking her mind, but she is also strategic. If the calculated risk of such a comment is too high, she will deny herself. She would never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s prospects.”

“You really think a smart comment from an old woman is enough to keep them apart?” Killian asked, thinking back on the few weeks that Liam and Elsa had shared since finding each other again. They had been as close to inseparable as the schedule of a King would allow. It was clear that they were both entirely invested, so much so that a royal announcement would be made in the coming days announcing their relationship.

“Not for a second.”

“So, if you know that, and I know that… surely Gran must know that.”

At that exact moment a maid was walking back into the house, opening the glass doors. From the outside they could hear his grandmother calling out to Liam and to Elsa, who had been discovered somewhere in the backyard. They no doubt were trying to be more discrete, but Gran seemed to have no interest in allowing them that privacy.

“Oh Lord, it’s time,” Meera said with a mix of worry and also amusement. Her eyes were alight with the humor of the moment, but also the very real awkwardness that may soon transpire. “I best get out there and spare them from what I can.”

Killian nodded, but wasn’t ready for the impact of his mother’s arms around him squeezing tight. It was not in any way part of the royal protocol, but his family never paid much mind to that. Still, this was a big hug, one that was obviously filled with tremendous meaning.

“I’m so proud of you, my darling. You’ll give her everything she deserves, and the two of you will be happy. So wonderfully, beautifully happy.”

“Thanks, Mum. Love you,” he whispered, accepting her soft kiss on his cheek and her shared words of love in kind before she dashed off to help his elder brother. A Queen should never move so quickly, but then again, Gran could do quite a bit of damage in the seconds it would take to get from here to there. For his part, Killian only chuckled to himself before heading to the side of the palace towards the gardens for the day.

The next few hours were defined by attention to detail and purposeful precision. Before meeting Emma, Killian could safely say he never imagined the lengths and planning required for a proper proposal. The idea was so intangible, so unnecessary in his estimations, that he never dwelled on even the possibility. It seemed unlikely that his heart would ever be touched in that way. He assumed he’d go through life a bachelor, or worse yet, that he’d cave to eventual pressure and say yes to something arranged and designed without feeling or passion. Luckily for him he had escaped such a fate, and instead had been steered through the grace of all things good towards a woman who was far and away the most remarkable he’d ever met.

Emma was rare and extraordinary. He had known it from their first meeting, and he continued to hold onto this truth every day they were together. There was never a moment when he didn’t realize his good fortune, or when he took her presence in his life for granted. Emma had revived him. She anchored him into the goodness of the world, and she showed him what could be. She expanded his horizons, even brought with her a son, another key part of a growing family, and by her side, Killian felt like he was capable of anything.

He only hoped that the elements he’d gathered today would translate as he imagined they could. This was a memory in the making that could only be shared once. Killian wanted to be sure that it was what Emma wanted and deserved. Luckily, he’d had help and more than a little bit of intel, mostly provided by Henry and from a few other insiders who knew Emma best of all.

“Are all systems a go, Captain?”

As if he’d conjured Henry with the grateful thought of all the boy had done for him, he turned now to find Emma’s son in the garden. Killian watched as the lad took in their surroundings, his eyes growing wide, and his whispered ‘this is so cool’ a welcome sign that Killian’s efforts had not been for nothing. He stood from where he’d been bent down, tidying up the last of his efforts, and when he gazed upon it himself, he had to say he was happy with the outcome.

“Aye, Lieutenant. All the necessary components are accounted for.”

“Good. She’s going to lose it. In a good way though,” Henry said with a smile which burned bright.

“Is everyone arrived then?” Killian asked and Henry shook his head.

“Soon, but not just yet. Anna and I have been here for a while now. Gran needed help with the game set up, but I asked if I could see you first.”

The look of wonder and happiness that had clung to Henry since arriving colored to something a bit more pensive. The shift gave Killian some pause for the first time all day. “Everything all right, lad?”

“Everything’s great, I just – well I was wondering – I mean if Mom says yes – or rather when she says yes, because she’ll totally say yes, it’s just that, well I – I was wondering…”

“No need to be worried, Henry,” Killian said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Whatever you have to ask me, I’m here to help. You have my word I will make it right.”

“I know. And you’ll love Mom forever, right?”

“Aye, lad. Forever and then some.”

“And you love me too,” Killian’s heart clenched as he automatically nodded.

“Yes, Henry. I love you both, undoubtedly.”

“And we’re going to be a family.”

Killian didn’t know what to say. Down to his bones he knew that they would be. He was confident in this union between him and Emma. They had made promises already, declarations of love. He would give anything to be her husband, and he knew that someday he would be, but to say it aloud to her son when Emma herself hadn’t had a chance to even be asked was something else entirely. In the end, he decided to just go with his gut.

“In my heart, we already are.” Henry beamed up at him, the worry of the moment melting away. Still, Killian never imagined what he’d say next.

“Well then I was hoping that maybe, when you and Mom are married, maybe I could call you Dad?”

Killian was overwhelmed with the request. It was something he had wished for, but didn’t want to press. He knew Henry had no memories of his biological father, but he never wanted to assume. It was a massive move for a young man to ask such a question, but Killian’s answer to the query was instant and heartfelt.

“I would be honored, lad.”

“Cool,” Henry said happily, brimming with the excitement he’d had since Killian first told him about his plan to propose to Emma.

Henry moved forward, hugging Killian with the affection of an earnest hearted ten-year-old, and Killian savored it, knowing he would always see Henry as his son. He may not be his blood, but he lay claim to a large piece of Killian’s heart. He silently swore to always do right by Henry. To protect him and to teach him what he could. But mostly he would support him, and show love to Henry and his mother all the days of his life. Before Killian could speak to more of that, the sound of busses pulling up, and happy children streaming onto palace grounds wafted through the air. The time had come. This was the moment.

“You know the plan, son?” Killian asked, the word slipping off his tongue so easily, and bringing real joy to Henry’s eyes.

“Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll have Mom to you in five minutes. You can time me.”

Killian might have laughed at the fervor and excitement Henry shared, but unfortunately, five minutes waiting in a moment like this felt like a lifetime away. The only thing that got him through were the last-minute adjustments, and the journey that was needed from where he was, to where they’d start their memorable afternoon. Finally, the moment came where Killian was waiting at the start of the hedgerow, even further from the festivities and he could hear the woman he loved, unaware of his being here.

“Henry, seriously, what’s going on? The party’s only just starting. We have time for a tour later. We can go with the others.”

“Trust me Mom, this can’t wait.”

“What is it Henwy?” a tiny voice Killian would know anywhere asked. Cecelia was with them, another sign from above that his plans were moving the way he wanted.

“Something magical,” Henry said and Killian could hear the sharp trill of an excited little girl.

“Like fairies?”

“Just wait, you’ll see.”

“Something magical, huh?” Emma parroted, but at that moment they all stepped into view.

Three days may be but a blip in time to some, but to Killian it had felt like an eternity. The peace he now experienced at seeing his Swan again was profound, and somehow she was even more stunning than when he’d left her. The day’s light shone in her hair and in her smile. She was gorgeous and relaxed, dressed in a delicate pink sun dress designed to tease and torment. Her radiance outshone every flower in this garden, and in the moments before she saw him, he soaked in the sight of her. God she was beautiful, too beautiful to properly behold. His heart skipped and his muscles tightened, and then her eyes landed on him and he was whole. The world was righted once more, and all because Emma saw him and felt the same pull he felt emanating from his chest. The surprise in her eyes was evident, followed immediately by relief, and joy, and love, and all of it was too sweet a call to resist. He moved towards her and the children, sending up one last prayer in this critical moment.

Please let her be mine. I swear I’ll deserve her. Whatever it takes. For I am hers, body and soul, and I always will be.

………………

God he’s gorgeous, Emma thought instinctively upon finding Killian at the far end of the garden hedge. That thought was followed closely by, Wait, what is he doing here?

“Killy!” Cecelia cried out happily, letting go of Emma and Henry’s hands and sprinting towards him. Emma watched as Killian crouched down, accepting the hug from the little girl who effortlessly stole their hearts. He closed his eyes momentarily, soaking in the moment, and then he pulled back and pushed some of her wayward curls from Cecelia’s eyes, smiling at her with genuine affection.

“Good morning, little love. How are you finding the palace?” Emma’s heart clenched in her chest in the best way. He was just so sweet with her. He always had been.

“It’s so so good,” Cecelia replied, bringing a laugh out of all of them.

At the little girl’s enthusiastic endorsement, Killian thanked Cecelia and then stood once more, looking at Emma with those captivating blue eyes and that charming smile that always took her breath away. She was still trying to fathom his presence here. They had spent the last few days apart, days she found so much more difficult to manage than she expected, but he wasn’t set to return for a few more days. Liam had sent him on state business. She didn’t press for details, assuming it was confidential, but now, she was curious as to this wonderful turn of events. Before she could ask though, he walked over to her, taking her into his arms and kissing her surely. She leaned into this embrace, loathed to let him go, but he seemed to remember they were in the presence of little eyes. It was a fleeting kiss, but still invigorating all the same.

“I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be away the rest of the week.”

“I hope you’ll forgive my brother for that white lie,” Killian said, his hand coming up to scratch at his ear in that subtle show of bashfulness she’d witnessed a time or two. “If you’ll recall I never actually confirmed an itinerary, having sworn never to lie to you again.”

“So, you weren’t on a… huh, let’s see, how did Liam put it? A ‘mission for the future of the nation’ then?”

“Not exactly. But then again, in some ways, that’s exactly where I was. Do you trust me, love?”

Emma nodded, and watched as his smile grew warmer. She knew that it meant to him to have her trust, but in her eyes, he had earned it ten times over. Killian was a good man – the best man she knew – and he made her feel safe. Of course she trusted him. She had never trusted anyone this much before.

“In that case, I’ve some things to show you. Henry, you’ll be sure to hold down the fort in the meantime?”

Emma looked over to her son, and only now realized that this was all planned somehow. Her boy looked pleased as punch, and even sent a salute Killian’s way. “Yes sir. And Cecelia will help, wont’ you Ceci?” The little girl nodded, joyously, thrilled at the prospect of helping. “We’ll see you both soon.”

Killian nodded, leading Emma in the direction of the garden. The further they moved into the hedgerow, the quieter it became, until the only songs around them were those of birds and breeze. Emma was amazed at all of this, but she was also still wrapped up in his return. It felt so good to be back with her hand in his, the glow of his presence enveloping her. She’d never missed someone like she had the past few days, never ached this way to be reunited with someone. It was a testament to all she felt for him and how much she’d come to love him. Quietly she stopped walking, pulling Killian’s attention. With a quick glance behind them, she saw no one had followed. They were totally alone and so she made her move. Pulling him down for another kiss, she said a proper hello, and shivered in delight at his reaction.

His hands were on her, seemingly everywhere, holding her close as they tasted each other. She felt his soft dark hair between her fingers, where she ran them through by the nape of his neck. She arched in closer, feeling the friction of their bodies together, and sighing in pleasure when they pulled apart. It couldn’t go further than that, but Emma felt more secure having shown him even in a small way how happy she was to see him.

“Hell of a welcome home, love,” he growled out, words low and throaty from his own swirling emotion. “If leaving wasn’t torture in itself, I’d consider more trips just for this.”

“No need to leave for these,” she whispered to him, leaning in for another kiss but then nipping him gently instead and stepping back out of his grasp. She smiled at his evident frustration, and laughed when he groaned in defeat. He knew he was had, but from the way he pulled her back into his arms, running his hand along the small of her back and looking at her adoringly, he didn’t seem to mind.

“You are a marvel, love. Have I mentioned that yet?”

“Maybe once or twice,” she teased, looking back to where they’d been walking and giving him silent permission to lead to their destination once more. “It’s beautiful out here.”

Beautiful was an understatement. In truth, Emma had never seen such intricate floral designs or such an array of colors and flower species. She had to imagine it was more than a palace garden. This had to be one of the most beautiful botanical spaces in all of Europe.

“Much of that is my mother’s doing. Her passion project, so to speak. She brought us out here when we were boys. Showed us bits and bobs. But this has always been hallowed grounds. Special, and perhaps, as Henry hinted, a little magical as well.”

Emma was poised to reply, but at that moment they turned a corner and things changed. They were still in a garden, but this time – oh lord it was difficult to describe. Magnificent was the first word that came to mind, and ethereal came soon after. For where there were blossoms and buds before, now there even more, hanging from pergolas above and winding through ivy vines on every hedge. Some were clearly naturally placed, but Emma noticed pieces woven into this area that she’d seen before, half a world away.

“Windchimes,” she murmured, looking at the gorgeous displays that reminded her of home.

There was a storefront, totally discrete from the street view and far off of the beaten path, deep in the heart of Chinatown, that she and Henry had found when he was younger. It was filled with artisan chimes and motifs and mobiles made from natural items and glass and more. The owners were amazing and known in crafting circles around the globe. The first day Emma and Henry visited taking refuge from a sudden winter chill, the couple who owned the store had taken the time to walk her son through their work. They’d then spent hours in the studio, and though Emma had very little by way of money for a purchase, they’d showed her and Henry nothing but the utmost kindness. She’d always found the pieces beautiful, comprised of shells and flecks of crystal or silver and gold, swirled into constellations that evoked a night sky or sense of wonder.

Over the years she and Henry returned to the studio many times, and even bought a few pieces when she could save enough to treat herself to something precious. There was so much beauty crafted in each piece. Emma always found herself wanting more, and she loved their trips back over and over again. The style of this artwork was one of a kind. Emma had never seen other pieces like these, but here, in this patch of the garden, there had to be a hundred intricate, delicate, interrelated art pieces dancing in the wind.

“How is this possible?”

“Henry may have mentioned something. Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. God, the time it must have taken to put this all together…”

“Was time well spent, believe me, love.” Emma looked to him and she could have sworn from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that he was the one who had done this. But that was crazy. How could he have possibly had time for all this?

“But how did it all even get here?”

“I brought it.”

“You brought it?” Emma asked, stunned, her fingertips grazing the smoothed lines of one art piece dripping in sea glass. “You were in New York.”

“Aye.”

“But why?”

“Patience, love. There’s more to see.”

Emma had no idea how there could possibly be more, but she tucked her arm through Killian’s and walked with him to the next section of gardens. Here there was a sudden burst of purples and whites, and a scent she’d been missing without even realizing it. Lilacs, but none of them in season. Oh God, look at all of them.

“Killian,” she whispered, looking at what must have been thousands of bouquets of her favorite flower. It was unbelievable, but it was real, and she moved forward, seeing them all set up and displayed prominently in the midst of a garden with white roses. It was gorgeous and surreal. And now she was utterly dazed and more than a little confused.

“You and Henry are well known at the Brooklyn gardens love, as I’m sure you are well aware. I had it on good authority from a woman named Ella that lilacs are your particular favorite.”

“These can’t all be from there,” Emma said and Killian shook his head.

“No, these are admittedly sourced from a few specialty purveyors across the continent. But this,” he pulled out a polaroid of a small lilac tree that was recently planted. Looking at the surroundings, Emma realized that was outside Killian’s home here in Montenarro. “This is directly from the gardens. The same family and strain, all the way from New York.”

Emma was too shocked to speak, and felt the tears welling in her eyes. He had done so much for her, and she knew it was for one reason. He wanted to bring part of her home, part of a place that meant so much to Henry and her, here to his home. It was so thoughtful she felt tongue tied. What could she say? This was all so much.

Unbelievably there was even more, and over the next few minutes he took her through three more break away gardens, each filled with other staples of her one-time home. Food and culture and memories and more. This man had managed to find all of the best parts of her time in New York and he had brought them here. Some of them were things completely out of the realm of possibility.

“I can’t believe you found this,” Emma said, holding onto a years-old piece of construction paper that had been forgotten to time.

This picture was one of so many projects that her son had made in life, but Emma cherished the memories that went with it. Another example of the city’s serendipity, this painting chronicled a day of adventure for Emma and Henry. They’d wandered all through the city, and ended up in Queens for a special summer program for kids. She was always looking for magic moments for Henry, especially ones designed for a budgeting single Mom, and this one had delivered. There were story times and games, crafts and activities, and Henry had been thrilled. He made this picture of the two of them, and though it looked nothing like Emma, it had captured her heart. It also caught the eye of the librarians working that day and they’d selected it to put on the wall in the Children’s wing. Henry was oh so proud, his four-year-old heart filled with joy at getting to hang his art somewhere aside from their refrigerator door. It meant something to Emma, another example of her doing her best by her boy, and giving him all that she’d never had.

“There was a picture of you and Henry and this particular masterpiece in the Saturday Times.”

“Okay now how could you possibly know that?”

“Your neighbor, Mrs. Hubbard. She was very forthcoming, and she’d saved the article. Has it framed and everything.”

“You spoke to Mrs. H?” Emma asked completely bewildered, and Killian nodded. “And the library had it all this time?”

“Aye. In the archives. Nothing a few strategically planned favors couldn’t procure.”

“I don’t deserve this,” Emma said, letting the tears finally fall. This was all too much, but she was immediately comforted by the feel of Killian’s strong arms. His hand came to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping some of the tears as he shook his head, his eyes full of earnest feeling and emotion.

“That’s where you’re wrong, love. You deserve every good thing the world over. I know it’s presumptuous for a man like me to ask for such a treasure, but I swear to you I’ll spend my life giving everything I can.”

“I already have everything. I have you, and Henry,” Emma said. “This is beautiful, but it’s nothing to you.”

Killian hummed out a sigh of contentment, but where Emma expected a kiss, she watched instead as he pulled back, reaching for something in his pocket. “I was hoping you’d feel this way. Makes this next part a bit less nerve wracking.”

In a smooth gesture, he pulled out a small black box and lowered to the ground. Watching Killian drop down to one knee here in the gardens, Emma felt totally adrift from all cares of the world. She was stunned and yet deeply aware that this had all been a long time coming. There was no doubt in her heart that she loved Killian, and she held no fear over taking this next step. This man had shown her for months that he genuinely cared for her and her son. He would move mountains for them, if only for a possibility of their happiness. He was selfless and loyal and true, and he made her brave, emboldening her to believe that the risk was worth it. Love was worth it. Still, it was shocking, to be adored so deeply, and to know that someone truly felt the world began and ended with her.

“Emma, I realize that this is perhaps soon by some standards, but believe me when I say that I have been aching to ask you this question since the moment we met.”

More tears formed in her eyes, thinking back on that day. Her world had truly shifted in the span of one morning. There was a time before Killian, before romantic love that ever made her hopeful, and then there was more. It all started at the center, but it built well beyond those four walls. Knowing what she did now, she had to call their encounter what it had been – love at first sight. Maybe she hadn’t admitted it then, and surely she hadn’t said it aloud, but that is what transpired. She took one look at this man, this extraordinary, incredible man, and she was hooked, plain and simple.

“You amazed me then, that first day at the Institute. I didn’t realize anyone like you could truly be real, or that I was capable of forming an attachment with such strength. I had seen too much, I reasoned, knew the darkness of the world in ways that may leave me lacking for the rest of my days. I thought such chances at something halfway near normal were beyond me, but those first sparks between us proved me wrong. I was totally ensnared, caught in a web you couldn’t help for making, and still, that immediate response can’t compare to all I feel now. Knowing you – loving you – I am more certain each and every day that you hold my heart in your hand. I am yours, Emma. I have been yours, and I will remain yours all the days of my life.”

There was absolutely no chance at stopping from crying now, but the sensation was one of happiness. She was actually living a fairytale. Her, the once lost girl who never had a nickel to her name, or a friend to keep her going. She had survived the cruelest affairs of the heart. She had been so terribly and tragically alone, but she persisted, and she learned, through the grace of her son, and the courage of her convictions, to live. Now with Killian she was starting anew, building up the small life she’d shared with Henry into something much bigger. To say she was exited at the prospect was an understatement.

“Emma Swan, will you -,”

“I want to adopt Cecelia!” Emma said abruptly, blurting out a seemingly unrelated fact in the middle of what had been the most beautiful proposal. She was mortified, but only for a moment. Because the smile on Killian’s face calmed the storm inside her.

“Ah, right. You see, I had anticipated that, though in the interest of full disclosure I envisioned this part of the conversation after your reply to the proposal. Regardless, I offer you this, love.”

Emma watched as he juggled the ring and instinctively she took it, holding the box and sparing another glance at the absolutely beautiful band. Her fingers itched to put it on now, but she knew it would be so much better to let Killian do the honors. She then watched in amazement as he pulled out a series of papers from inside his jacket. He opened the file containing them all and showed her an application for adoption. The child in question was Cecelia, and the forms listed both Emma and Killian as petitioning guardians. Now she was completely overwhelmed. He knew every single part of her. Every hope. Every dream. He was perfect.

“Family is so much more than blood, Swan, as we both know, and I think we’ve known for sometimes that Cecelia will always be our princess.”

“Yes,” Emma whispered. Yes to everything, yes to all of it.

“I’ve also spoken to Henry, not intentionally per se, wanting to speak with you first, but it would mean the world to adopt him as well. I don’t know how you’d feel about that, but I-,”

“Yes,” she said again, this time with even more conviction.

“Yes?” he asked with a hopeful grin and she nodded. “Well in that case. May I, love?”

She handed him the papers which he put down beside them with care. Emma watched as he took the ring box back from her other hand. He settled down on bended knee again, preparing himself for another attempt at asking her to marry him. It took everything in her to bite her tongue and let him actually get the request out.

“Emma Swan, love of my life, light of my spirit, and queen of my heart, will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

“Yes.”

Everything from there went quickly as he slipped the ring on her finger, tossing the box without care to the group. Killian was up at full height in mere moments, pulling her in for a scorching kiss and Emma was complete. It may not have been a totally according to plan proposal, but Emma believed what they had was even better, because it was real and true and filled with so much love. She could think of no better way to start a beautiful forever, and when they pulled back, resting their foreheads against each other and soaking in the moment, Emma let out a sigh of sheer relief. This was what they meant when they said happily ever after, and it was so very worth the wait.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy,” Emma murmured aloud.

“Neither have I,” an emotional voice said – only it wasn’t Killian. The voice continued. “Truly beautiful.”

“Gran,” Killian muttered shaking his head. Emma bit her lip and covered her mouth. They had absolutely just been caught out here, but when they both turned to see their unexpected audience, consisting of Killian’s family, Elsa and Anna, and Henry and Cecelia, a different person outside of all the rest, was revealed to be the culprit.

“You take that back, Killian, for you know better than that,” Gran said, standing beside a dressed up and dazzling looking Mrs. Hubbard. Mr. Hubbard was there too, his hand on Henry’s shoulder and his leg being held onto by a very friendly Cecelia. Emma never expected to see her dear, sweet neighbors. Their appearance here in Montenarro left her floored.

“My new friends are a treat, believe me,” Gran continued, walking forward, and seemingly giving everyone else the silent permission to do the same. “But their spying skills need work. I would never speak through such a moment, nor rustle these hedges with quite so much gusto. Not to worry though, they’ll learn.”

Everyone descended in that moment to wish them all well, but the most important reactions came from Henry and from Cecelia. The happiness of both of these kids – their kids – gave Emma tremendous joy and satisfaction. She was also thrilled to share this with their blended family, and with the friends who had become such strong bonds in her new life. After much congratulations, everyone returned to the party, and an announcement was made. If Emma believed the reaction to be enthusiastic from her loved ones, it was even bolder from all of the children at the center. Indeed, the happiness and infectious sense of hope made for the best party any of them had ever been to, and created an afternoon like none she’d ever experienced.

Hours later, Emma was still reeling from the high, and loving the fact that she and Killian had stayed together all day. He’d never let her go after her saying yes, always beside her, supporting her, adoring her, and loving her endlessly. She was so happy with him, but as the day drew to a close, her spirits dampened slightly. In his usual form, Killian caught on immediately.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, sure that no one else was listening, even though they were still amidst the party.

“Nothing,” Emma said automatically, though that was only half true. “This is one of the best days of my life. It’s just… the waiting…”

“Aye, I��ve considered that too. But I think I’ve arrived at a workable solution.” Emma looked at him curiously. “I will submit for a special license from the crown. The King and I are on decent terms you see.”

“Decent, huh?” Emma teased, looking over at Liam and finding him swaying with Elsa on a makeshift dance floor. There wasn’t even any music playing, but to this happy couple, and to the children dancing nearby, that didn’t matter in the slightest.

“He’s been in better spirits of late, as you might imagine.”

“Seems to be going around.”

“Mmm,” Killian hummed out, running his hand along her cheek and looking at her with sincerity and bliss. “We can have everything arranged in a week. It’ll be quite the undertaking, but the staff is up to the challenge.”

“A week?” Emma said, not believing it. Surely it must take longer than that, but she loved the idea. In truth, she’d marry him right now if she could. “Can we really do that?”

“Just say the word, Emma.”

“Yes,” she said nodding. “It’s crazy. Actually it’s totally insane, but yes, please, yes.”

“As you wish,” he replied kissing her again under the party lights and lighting her aflame once more. “In the meantime, I’ve no wish to be apart. We should be together, love, as long as that’s what you want.”

“I do.”

“Everything’s ready. I’ve been working for weeks on it. The rooms for Henry, for Cecelia, all of it. It’s merely a matter of moving your things in, all of which can be done tonight.”

“You’re serious?” Emma asked and he nodded.

“A magistrate’s already granted temporary custody for Cecelia. You can take her home now while the process continues. Please, love, say you’ll all come home to me.”

Emma looked over to Henry and to Cecelia, who were dancing together on the floor. Emma watched as her son already took so well to his new sister, and as if she’d conjured his attention, Henry glanced her way. He waved, a sign that Emma returned. Drawing attention to them set Cecelia in motion, and soon the little girl was dragging Henry across the party. Soon enough they were back together, the four of them a new but undoubtedly permanent unit. Cecelia jumped into Killian’s arms, and Henry came to Emma’s side looking up with his knowing expression.

“What’s up, Mom?” he asked and Emma smiled, unable to resist pulling him and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“How would you feel about moving to Killian’s house -,”

“Our house,” Killian stressed and Emma chuckled.

“Sorry, our house, tonight?”

“That would be awesome!” Henry said excitedly. “Can we do that?”

“Aye.”

“And me too?” Cecelia asked hopefully.

“Yes, honey, you too,” Emma said, brushing a stray curl from Cecelia’s face. The kids made their feelings known. They were in, totally and completely. “Well I guess we have our answer then.”

“Aye, love. The best of answers, all around.”

And so, later that night, when the festivities of the day had ended, and the children all departed, Emma and Killian, Henry and Cecelia all headed home together, enjoying their first night in a place that would always be theirs. And though Emma knew they were in for a crazy week of planning and party design, and wedding wildness, she was truly joyful. For this was a life beyond her wildest dreams, and she knew, deep down to her core, that it was going to be breathtaking.

Post-Note: So… what did you think? Personally, I found it SO cathartic to write this scene. It’s been such a long time coming and I have pictured this outcome for Emma and for Killian even before writing the first word of this story. Almost a year ago to the day this story came to me, and my hope is to write out the final chapter by the one year anniversary in early May. Hopefully it won’t take quite so long, but please know that it has been a joy to write this and share with all of you. I hope this chapter and this fic have brought some brightness to your world and some magic to your moment. This has been an insane time, but I’ve been grateful to share it with all of you. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed, and I’d love to hear what your hopes for the end of this story are. Until next time, wishing you all well and healthy and safe! xE.

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elisela · 5 years ago

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i was just gonna say......... hs dad!eddie? whose parents think theyd be better off raising Christopher? hs!buck already like I LOVE KIDS? hmmmm

I’m combining these two!

1. Eddie thinks he has the most spectacularly bad luck in the history of the universe; he has a girlfriend for two months, sleeps with her a handful of times, and gets her pregnant. In his junior year of high school. Shannon doesn’t tell him until she can’t hide it anymore, and by the time Christopher is born, her parents have already bought a house halfway across the country and are pushing them to give the baby up for adoption. Eddie wonders if he’s making the biggest mistake in the world, but it sits wrong with him to hand his child over to someone he doesn't know, so he sucks it up and tells his parents. A judge awards him sole custody ten days after Chris is born; five days later, Shannon is gone.

2. Buck sticks to himself in high school. He’s popular enough; he plays every sport he can just to have a reason to stay out of his house, a reason to be around people who want him around, but he doesn’t really get close to anybody. He’s heading into his sophomore year when he hears about how Eddie Diaz knocked a girl from another school up and after listening to people gossip for three days while he’s forced to wipe up soda spills and tolerate middle aged women rubbing his arm, he finds himself on Eddie’s block. They know each other--everyone knows each other, they’ve been going to the same schools since birth--and both he and Eddie are on the track team, although they’ve only and a few conversations. Still, he feels the urge to check in, because he doubts anyone else is. Eddie’s mom shuts the door in his face for his trouble.

3. Having an infant is hard. It’s harder when you’re a 17 year old fuck up, and even more difficult when your parents don't think you can do anything right and are constantly on you to sign your parental rights over to them. Eddie ends up moving in with Abuela three weeks before his senior year starts, which causes the biggest fight they've had yet and rather than wait for his sister to get back with his car, Eddie grabs the backpack he’s been using as a diaper bag, takes Chris, and leaves the house. They end up at the little cafe half a mile from the high school, and Eddie walks in the door because he has nowhere else to go. When Buck cocks his head and says, “you doing okay, man?”, Eddie almost cries. He hasn’t been asked how he was since he found out Shannon was pregnant.

4. Buck brings him a sandwich and an iced tea and shifts back and forth before asking if he could please hold the baby. He spends the next two hours gently bouncing Chris up and down, smiling at him, until he falls asleep, and rather than give him back to Eddie he eases him into the crook of his arm. Buck loves kids, and he’s always been good with babies in particular; Maddie did a lot of babysitting when he was younger and she’d bring him with more often than not.

5. Eddie and Buck spend more and more time together, usually at Abuela’s, playing with Chris on the carpet or taking him out on walks in the evening after they’ve gotten their homework done. Buck breaks his wrist in early September and, rather than spend his whole time on the bench watching the football team, quits. All the hours he’d spent practicing are now spent with Eddie, trying to make a now five month old Chris laugh. When Buck skips the winter formal because Chris has a fever and Eddie hasn’t slept in nearly 24 hours, Eddie hands the sleeping baby over, watches Buck get settled on the couch, then leans over and kisses him gently.

6. Eddie’s a Mexican-American kid raised in a Catholic family in Texas. With a seven month old. Once the high of being able to kiss Buck wears off, the shame and doubt starts to set in. When he tells Buck, “maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Buck looks at him and says, “Why? You can’t get me pregnant.”

7. Eddie signs up for the Army on his 18th birthday. He doesn’t tell his family. He doesn’t tell Buck. He knows what the reactions will be, but he’s a teenage father who has very little options available to him, and he knows he has to do what’s best for his kid. He puts in to be a medic, figuring that will transfer easily to a job after he puts his four years in.

8. Chris lives with Eddie’s parents when he leaves. Despite Eddie asking them to please let Buck see Chris once or twice a week, they never open the door or answer the phone. He doesn’t see Chris for nearly a month; not until Abuela walks into the cafe with Chris on her hip. Chris reaches out for him immediately, and Buck absolutely does not burst into tears. Abuela tells him that she misses him as well, and lets it slip that she watches Chris on Tuesdays and Thursdays until dinner. It doesn’t give him a lot of time to work with, but he if goes straight there from school he usually has three hours to spend with Chris.

9. Eddie’s been stationed in San Antonio for almost a year now, and Buck is heading into his senior year. Buck writes Eddie a letter every week--they both have cell phones and they talk every night, but he likes the feel of pouring his feelings out onto paper. Eddie only writes back one time; post-marked the day he had told Buck that he was being deployed. The only thing the letter says is “I love you”. It’s the first time he’s said it.

10. They don't talk a lot while Eddie is deployed. Buck keeps writing letters and he gets them back sporadically; sometimes three or four will come all at once after two months of not hearing from Eddie. But when he does get them, it’s pages worth. Eddie writes about what it’s like in Afghanistan, writes about all the different people in his unit and where they’re from, what they’re like, writes about times he remembers with Buck. But Buck’s favorite is when Eddie writes about what their life will be like when he’s out: that after spending so much time in the desert, they’ll live by the ocean. They’ll spend days running around after Chris, weekends driving around and exploring, they’ll have jobs they love, and they’ll never, ever be apart.

11. Chris gets his CP diagnosis three months before Eddie’s supposed to come home. Buck doesn’t hear from him until the day Eddie shows up on his porch, crying.

12. They go to the courthouse the day after Buck graduates high school to get married. Eddie signs up for his second tour three days later. He doesn’t tell Buck before.

send me a buddie au & I’ll write 5+ head canons

#eli writes #eli's head canons #i need to start keeping these to 5 jesus #pan-buck #maddie is my fave

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snxwboarder · 4 years ago

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//Hey friends. I’m back.

I’ve got an update on the situation I talked about a few days ago. Honestly writing the post I wrote last time really helped me, so I want to do it again. Just to put my thoughts down and allow myself to process.

If you’re going to read (which you’re welcome to!) please make sure you’ve read the trigger warnings in the tags.

But, just a tldr for anyone possibly concerned about my safety: I’m at my parents place now with all 5 of my ferrets and most of my stuff. I feel safe and loved and free. Still scared. Still sad. Still hurt. But very hopeful of the future.

Here I go

Like I said in my last post, I didn’t think I was in an abusive relationship. I was struggling to see it. Even when my friends pointed out the gaslighting and the manipulation, I always had a reason for why he acted the way he did. An explanation for his actions forever engraved into my system because I have always been the one to be there to save him. To excuse him. To forgive him.

It changed last night.

Abusive relationship.

Not something I thought I was in.

Until, for the first time since my dad pushed me out of the room so he could hit my mom when I was 11 years old, my partner became physical.

My boyfriend, of 7 years, who I reassured my friends, not even half an hour earlier, would never lay a hand on me.

Got physical.

I worked a full day yesterday, left the house before he got up. I fed the ferrets before I left, giving my senior ferret her twice daily lifetime medication 2 hours earlier than I normally do because I worked the morning shift - and I knew he wouldn’t wake up to do it.

We still hadn’t talked. Not much. How many days does that make it that he hasn’t spoken to me... 5? I lost count.

Our conversations consisted of me saying “have a good day at work” and his grunt in reply. A short “I’m going to my grandma’s house” because I needed to get out.

It wasn’t talking. Not really.

There was a time I think he wanted to talk. He came into the bedroom on the 4th night of us sleeping apart. He sat down, didn’t say much. I know he was trying to get me to ask what was wrong, if he was okay, what I could to do help him. But I didn’t say anything.

Which was.... hard.

Really hard.

I’ve spent 7 years being trained, like a collared bitch that comes to it’s masters call that when he’s upset, I find the solution. When we fight, I ask for forgiveness. When we can’t decide, I compromise.

7 years of training.

This time I didn’t do it though. No matter how tight he pulled the collar around my neck, the mumbled phrases he said to lure me in:

“I’m so tired...”

That’s what he said. He’s tired.

Him.

He didn’t ask how I was, he didn’t ask what I was thinking. He just sat there. Staring down into his lap. Breathing. Waiting for me to beg for forgiveness for a fight he started, for words he said, for a relationship he molded.

“What’s wrong with you?”

That’s the last real thing he had said to me and it still rings back and forth in my head.

4 days he left me with that.

20 minutes, give or take, that’s how long he sat there waiting. But I didn’t say anything. If he wanted to talk about the fight, I was ready to talk, but I knew it would end in a breakup right there and then at 1am. Not the ideal time. But... ideal times don’t really exist.

He left though. Wordlessly. Closing the door behind him just like the walls he always put up so that I could work to tear them down and make it right.

The next morning I went to work.

And while I stared into our empty store, my new coworkers that I’ve only known for 2 days standing around me. I made the choice that it was over. I was done sitting here with an infected bandage waiting for it to heal itself. I wanted to rip it off. Let the air sting against the cut he had caused so it could finally get a chance to breathe. To heal.

We were done.

I came home from work with determination in my steps and the most stomach turning anxiety in my gut.

We were done.

I entered the house. Silence. I go to his office. He’s playing fortnite.

He doesn’t notice me at first because he’s talking to his friends. His mood is different. He’s happy, I know it. I move towards him and he recognizes that I’m there.

“How was work?”

It was like nothing was wrong.

I’m still confused about that part but I didn’t focus on it for too long. “Can we talk when you’re done your game?” I said.

He agreed. I left the room to go downstairs.

I didn’t take my work uniform off thank god I didn’t take my work uniform off. My car keys were in my pocket because I didn’t stop to put them down. The ferret travel cage was in the car, not because I had it there as a “just in case” but simply because, like the keys, I had forgotten to put it away when I brought them inside after a vet appointment last week.

I text my friends to let them know that it’s happening. I had talked to my mom on the phone on the drive home from work to give her a heads up that tomorrow they’ll probably need to get me.

Tomorrow. I can’t believe I thought he’d let me stay the night.

He called my name when he was done the game. We never use each other’s names. Always pet names when we’re alone. So it was odd.

I went upstairs to his office and stood in the doorway.

He asked if I wanted to take a seat.

I said I did not.

The conversation that follows is not something I’m ready to fully bring myself back to, not yet, maybe not ever. I was clear in my intentions, firm with when I was leaving, and as factual as I could be. I explained what I felt he deserved to know, and allowed him to take the silences he needed to take.

A broken man sobbed in front of me, begging me to stay. Saying, for the millionth time, that he could change if I needed him to despite how I’d never seen the evidence of it. Said we could stop having sex for good. Said I was all that he had and without me he was completely alone. Said I couldn’t leave because if I did he would be by himself in a house with no one.

And then he remembered the ferrets.

“Are you taking the girls?” He asked me, breaking again in front of me.

I gave him a very clear, very hard “yes.”

Because I was.

I was leaving him and I was taking my ferrets with me.

More so than the conversation we just had, the following 30 minutes of my life are the worst 30 minutes I’ve ever experienced. I highly doubt I’ll ever be able to remember those 30 minutes and feel at peace.

It was when the abuse turned from emotional to physical. As he fought me for my ferrets. My girls.

My hands still hurt from where I grabbed their cage and my voice is still sore from yelling that he needed to let go.

I had my car keys in my pocket because of luck.

I had the kennel in my car because of forgetfulness.

I grabbed all 5 of them in my arms and I ran.

I ran.

I’ve never moved so quickly with my heartbeat hammering in my ears and my chest so tight with fear and anxiety, moving completely on gut instinct above literally anything else.

I got them into the kennel and I locked the car.

He could have the house. He could have the furniture. He could have the damage deposit and the subscriptions and the money that he owes me and my virginity that he stole and my broken beating fucking heart I don’t give a fucking shit about any of that useless garbage but he is not taking my girls. I brought them into this house because I wanted one fucking thing to keep me sane and moving and loved and I wasn’t leaving unless they were in the back of my car.

He lost his chance to say goodbye when he grabbed me.

He lost his chance to hold them one more time when he threatened to leave with them.

He lost his chance to a normal breakup when he stood by the door with rage in his eyes telling me that even though my parents were on their way to save me from the hell he trapped me in, he would not let them into his home to free me from the hold that he had so easily trapped me in.

But I stayed firm.

The keys were in my pocket.

I had my girls.

He moved towards me and I was scared but he grabbed his car keys and his wallet and stormed out of the house.

“You’re a selfish bitch. Fuck you.”

That’s the last thing he said.

And I sobbed in the doorway of my front door until my throat was raw and I couldn’t breathe. I sobbed because of how long I had been trapped. Because of the lies he told me. Because of how many times he said he’d change and never did. Because of all of the signs I missed. Because of all of the excuses I gave. Because of all the fighting and the compromising and the unhappiness. I sobbed because I was so relieved but so fucking terrified about everything that this changes and everything that this puts to an end. I just sobbed.

I don’t know when my step dad showed up but I assume he found me in the doorway shaking with my knees to my chest and my heart broken on the floor.

He held me for longer than he ever has. I don’t know what I said to him. I think I told him about the ferrets but I probably just kept mumbling “they’re in the car they’re in the car the girls are in the car” hoping he’d understand. I think he did. I don’t know.

My mom and brother were there in her van moments later and we packed.

Everything we could fit between 3 cars we packed. We started with the important stuff: my computer, the ferret cage, my sewing machine. We sacrificed the stuff that I didn’t have room for: my cosplay gear, half of my clothes, my fish tank (which breaks my fucking heart all over again please just take care of my fish I told them I was so sorry when we left but I just couldn’t take them).

It’s hard.

To watch the home you had just finished setting up be torn apart so quickly because you aren’t sure when he’s coming back to demand that you stay.

It’s hard.

But we did it.

My mom, my brother, my step dad, and me. We tore the home apart and I got my stuff.

I sobbed the whole drive away from that house. My brother drove with me, which I will never stop being thankful for. I sobbed because I was scared, still am, that my ex was going to kill himself. I was worried that that’s why he left. My eyes were on the highway and my heart was being left in broken pieces along the side of the road with each kilometre we drove.

And then I stopped crying.

About half of the way to my parent’s house.

Just.... stopped crying.

My brother and I talked about anime, one of our shared interests. He just finished watching SK8 with his wife and we were talking about our favourite parts, agreeing that Langa was best boy, making jokes about the silly bits and discussing our favourite scenes. Just talked with my brother about anime.

So I’m here now. In almost the same position I was in when I made a post like this last week, rethinking all of the reasons I had to leave. I’m at the kitchen table. I have a cup of tea that’s 3/4 full and completely cold because this post distracted me. I’ve been crying. A lot. My eyes are constantly puffy and red.

But about 30 minutes ago I went to walmart.

Stupid thing to give you hope, I suppose, a trip to walmart. I needed to get a sheet for my new bed though and I didn’t want to put it off.

A solo trip to walmart.

The same walmart that, exactly 1 week ago almost on the hour, I had been in with my ex (”ex” still feels odd to say). We had stopped by to get groceries after a couples counselling session. He was in a bad mood. We argued. In the car I apologized and he did not. 1 week ago I hadn’t realized everything wrong with us. 1 week ago I cried by the george t-shirts because he left me there in a rage after I said we needed to cross the store to get duct tape. 1 week ago I went to the mcdonalds in that walmart to get us burgers and the boy at the till was cute. 1 week ago I slipped into a 15 second daydream where I was with someone I found attractive. 1 week ago I felt guilty for the thought. 1 week ago I was just as brave as I was yesterday, but I didn’t know it yet.

I’m with my mom. I’m with my step dad. I’m with my ferrets.

I’m safe. I’m home.

When I sat at the red light on the way home from walmart, I felt the relief my mom had told me about 5 days ago. Not the wave that she described, nothing that “washed over me” like she had told me it did when she left my dad; but just a spark. A tiny little glimmer of “this is what’s right”, “this is what’s good”, “this is what’s better”.

My throat is still sore. My hands are still numb. And my heart still aches. But those pains go away eventually.

He goes away eventually.

#mun does mun things #tw: physical assault #tw: relationship abuse #tw: emotional abuse #tw: rape #tw: suicide #tw: anxiety

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polymetis-23 · 3 years ago

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Diary Entry Sept. 26th, 2021

Day 1 - The hunt begins

I spent most of today working on updates to my hero gear based off the trial runs these past few weeks. First I removed the giant skirt from my costume and replaced it with a utility belt. Sure those might not have been the most iconic thing about steampunk but they tinkered a lot so I'm sure they were around plenty. I hope to make more gadgets as time goes on so this will be a good place to store them. For now it is a simple belt with pockets as found at hardware stores. I know, it's ugly and doesn't really fit and I wish I had time to be proper about it, but with The Eye out there it seems somethings will sadly have to be function over form.

In addition to adding the tool belt, I have been working on the wrist crossbows (told you I wouldn't forget about them). I've moved them down from the back of my hand to around my wrist and made the bow limbs out of a semi-bendable metal. They work like springs and shoot the dart out fairly fast … or at least that is the current theory, I've really only added the wrist strap, had to finish some homework.

As the sun started to set, it was finally time for me to find The Eye (seriously does anyone have a better name for this person?) I could've sworn I was in a movie. The sky was overcast but no rain and everything seemed eerily quiet. Without a better idea I started from where I last saw them, the eye was still on the wall and it didn't look like anyone had been home in a while, I hope she didn't kill him. Anyway, I wasn't about to break into someone's house because that is illegal so I sat on the roof and surveyed for any mysterious red lights. It may not have been the most efficient way to find them, but hey that red glow is the only thing I have to identify them at the moment, and well the eye. I saw a few flashes over the course of the night, and a few more eyes around the city. Some the crime was obvious, another breakin or general vandalism, but others a dark red eye was just on a wall, nothing around to denote why.

Day 2 - Uh yeah, exams are a thing

How, might I ask, are we in the third week of classes and I already have a quiz. Like seriously what are we supposed to have learned at this point? Even if they had taught us something, this is the absolute worst time, now I have to spend all day studying and I can't go out tonight. I was getting so close last night to actually catching up to The Eye. Sure I hadn't actually seen them, but I was getting quicker at navigating the city so the time between red flashes and my arrival at a scene was getting less and less, it was only a matter of time until I caught them.

Day 3 - Crossbow work

The forecast for today is rain, lots of rain all day and I don't really fancy going out and getting soaked or slipping and falling on my butt while hunting for Eye, so I guess today is a design day. It actually works out really well because now I will have the wrist bow ready for when I finally do encounter her. Next thing I need to work on is tranquilizer darts, I don't want to permanently hurt those I bring in, after all I'm not the judge, jury and executioner, I just bring people in to meet justice.

After today's tests the bow seems to be great … or at least manageable. I still need to improve the aiming, for some reason the bolts won't group together. And I need to make an automatic reloader attachment, I have plenty of darts held on the cuff, but it would be nice for the system to be semi automatic incase I miss a shot or more probably I am fighting more than one opponent and need to incapacitate them both in quick succession.

Day 4 - The Evil Eye

Finally a semi-free day. I was able to make a few small adjustments to my weaponry between classes then waited until dark to roam the streets. The clouds from yesterday blew by leaving not a trace and letting the nearly full moon illuminate the streets, although that could also be from light pollution … I guess it is good that I can see and not trip, but I would've liked to be able to see the stars.

The night started relatively calmly, I was finally getting used to the red haze that settled over the world when I used my goggles. If I ever learn how to actually code, I'll have to write a program to filter out the ambient light, but for now I would just have to let my eyes adjust. I got lucky in my positioning tonight, I hadn't seen any pattern in how The Eye chose their targets so I had decided to sit on a random tall roof top and was rewarded with a beam of red two blocks over. Although I had previously only seen an aura of red indicating The Eye's (this is gonna stick now isn't it?) presence, it wasn't hard to imagine that they had the ability to focus it.

I ran across the rooftops, which were thankfully connected, I'll have to figure something out for when they aren't. I guess I could run at street level but that is more crowded and less direct, plus heroes are known for leaping across roofs right? Regardless I soon arrived at where the beam had been and looked for the source. Below me on the street there was a fight going on and sure enough one of the combatants' hands were surrounded by an aura of red. Upon closer observation I was shocked to find out this wasn't a fight, it was a beating. The man The Eye was 'fighting' was just laying on the ground not even trying to defend themselves. It was clear to anyone watching that the fight was over and didn't need to be continued so why was The Eye still there? I called 911 and reported the situation so her victim could get some help. I doubted they would be moving by themselves any time soon.

After placing the call I turned my attention back to the street to apprehend The Eye myself, but they were already gone, an eye left on the ground above the injured man's head. I could already hear the sirens of the ambulance and knew he would be okay. I waited until the paramedics started treating him, then left. I spent the rest of the night searching for another sighting of The Eye to bring them in, but they seemed to have gone silent for the moment. I suppose I will have to try again tomorrow now that I had seen they were not only bad, they were straight up evil. Attacking someone for no reason at all.

Day 5 - The Conversation

So classes were normal today and nothing special happened except well, I finally got to talk with the eye. I went out a little earlier than I usually did planning on scoping out some of the roofs on campus. Although I was currently preoccupied taking down The Eye who seemed to operate across the river, I knew I would be coming back to stop crime on campus eventually. There is a really nice iconic roof space above the main lobby of campus where I was planning to start. Up there you can see all around campus, sure it wasn't the tallest building, but it did have a great view.

Anyway, I was up there planning to see what was what and keeping an eye out for any red flashes in the city when from behind I heard:

"I thought they blocked off all entrances to the roof" they had, I have just been practicing picking locks. Yes I know that skill is rarely used for anything good, but sometimes it can come in handy, like tonight with the door

I turned around expecting to see some other student, while it wasn't a common hang out spot, people definitely still came up here. Instead I was confronted with The Eye herself, what was she doing on this side of the river and at my school no less. Of course I immediately confronted her about her illegal activities and she scoffed at me. I mean she literally scoffed and called me naive, how am I naive when I saw her commit those crimes? Like seriously? It quickly became apparent that she wasn't remorseful at all and needed to be brought in. We had a brief altercation which I definitely nearly won if she hadn't taken a cheap shot and knocked me on my butt I would've had her. As it was I landed with a loud smack and was slightly dazed. The only sound I heard was "stay down, this isn't the world for you" When I got my bearings again, she was gone and I was alone on the roof.

I layed back down and stared at the sky. This is going to take more work than I thought, but I'm sure it can't be that much more.

Day 6 - A day to relax

Not much happened today, I ended up sleeping through my alarm which I guess is a natural consequence of staying up into the early hours of the night every day for a week. I did my laundry, bought a few groceries and sloughed through some homework and … that was about it.

Day 7 - Coding is still the worst

So I have a problem set due for my coding class and I swear this class should be worth twice the amount of credit listed on the syllabus based on how long it takes me to write a 'simple' program. I guess I am learning some things because I can follow the code examples given in class, but I definitely can't recreate them. I'm gonna need to find another way to code my goggles or get someone to do it for me. Superheroes have a man in the chair right?

I eventually got the problem set turned in and started to draft ideas for the semi-automatic wristbow, still very rudimentary though.

#fiction #oc #writeblr #writing #vigilant series

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leotssukinaga · 5 years ago

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It’s a Great Big World (She’s Just Another Girl)

Oikawa x Fem!Reader

Summary: Support comes in many forms, he knows that, but being told by his friends that he'll move on doesn't help when he's not ready to. Promising someone something they don't want isn't the way to fix things. This isn't even something that can be fixed. Not by them, at least. Song: Just Another Girl- The Killers Word Count: 2479 A/N: Angst is my favourite to write, I’m sorry. Warnings: Alcohol consumption.

Sitting in the locker room, the dam he'd built starts to break again, and he tries his best to keep it in place, to stay stable. He's here to play volleyball. He needs to get you out of his mind. "Oikawa?" That's his name. Isn't it? It doesn't feel right. He doesn't feel a connection to it, not anymore. He doesn't feel a connection to much these days. Not when you're not here. "Oikawa!" "What?!" "The games about to start." Oh, right. He's a volleyball player. Hadn't he just thought about that? How did he forget? You'd always supported his career, he still has pictures of you in his jacket, holding a sign with his name. He wonders if you think about him. If you see a match on TV and wonder how he's doing, if you search his name sometimes to catch up on his progress. If you still care, like you used to when you belonged to him, when you didn't have someone else's ring on your finger. "Are you sure you're okay to play?" "I'll be fine." He doesn't mean it, doesn't believe it, and when he steps on the court his usual persona doesn't come to him. It's like you took Oikawa with you, left him as lonely, broken Tōru. He can barely register the game. When he serves the ball he doesn't feel it hit his hand, the yells of the crowd don't reach his ears. The next thing he processes is that he's staring at the ceiling, and he's not sure why. A face comes into his field of vision, filled with concern, words he can't hear spilling from his mouth. Does his knee hurt? He must have fallen on it. Why doesn't he care? Is he really that broken?

"It's like you weren't even present in the game. What's going on with you?" Iwaizumi's glare burns into the side of his head as he stares upwards. Tōru hadn't even realised he was in the country. Perhaps he'd come to see him play, flown all this way, and he'd disappointed his friend- just like he'd disappointed you. So many times he'd disappointed you. That's why you left, right? "Oikawa." Iwa doesn't sound angry, Oikawa knows his angry voice, but the concern laced into his voice is worse than anger. "I miss her, Iwa." "You miss-...who?" "Y/N." "Still? ""What do you mean still?" "Its been 2 years. This isn't healthy, Tōru." It's been a long time since he heard his given name from his best friends mouth. "It's time to move on." "What, like she did?" "Are you mad at her for that?" "No! No, I'm not I just... All I do is think about her and she's out there planning a wedding that isn't ours." "You'll find someone. Someone you're meant to marry." "Did that really just come out of your mouth?" "I'm trying to help you, dumbass." He doesn't say anything else. Talking about it hurts too much. It's the only thing that does hurt anymore. He never thought he'd miss other types of pain.

Next time he's in Japan, he can't help but drive past your house. It's stupid, he knows it is, but he finds himself on your street before he knows it. Your bicycle isn't in the driveway and neither is his car, and the fact that you're not home brings him no comfort. Maybe you're working, you always loved your job. He can so easily recall the glint in your eyes as you talked about it, the extra hours you dedicated to it until you were so exhausted you ended up crying in his arms, desperate for rest that you wouldn't allow yourself. He wonders if you still do that, if you cover other people's shifts until you've gone 15 days without a day off and you can barely stand, if you still have a whole cabinet in that house dedicated to coffee. He doesn't know how long he's sat here, mind wandering. He desperately wants to know if you're still the girl he knew two years ago. The girl he did nothing but let down; the girl he stood up time after time, who he never told he loved enough, who he was never really there for. He drove you away, he knows that. He's probably better alone, he can't ruin things if it's just him. He wishes he could handle being by himself. He knows he can't. A car horn sounds behind him, and he realises where he is. Maybe he's not in the right mindset to be driving. He makes his way home regardless, somehow without zoning out again.

The house feels empty, as it has for the past 2 years. Sometimes he still expects you to be there, reading on the couch or sleeping hunched over the desk in the study. Things lack colour now, and that isn't a metaphor. Your purple and yellow blanket no longer lives on the armchair in the corner, none of the painted photo frames you'd put on the walls remained. Everything about you had been bright, and without you it was like he'd been plunged into an endless night. How could he move on, knowing he'd never see the sunlight again?

3 weeks after what would've been your 4 year anniversary, Oikawa finds himself at the house of a lady who claims to be a fortune teller. He doesn't know if he believes in it, he thinks he probably doesn't, but- well, desperate measures and all that. After all, who's to say it's not real? He believes in aliens, maybe he can find it in himself to believe in this too. Although, even aliens have lost some of their appeal. Too many memories tied to you for that. He almost wishes he could erase you from his mind, reclaim the things he shared with you as his own, but he doubts that would dull the emptiness in his heart. When she tells him he'll move on, that there's happiness and love in his future, that the pain she senses in him (she says this as if she figured it out, but it's not that much of an epiphany considering he told her about it when he first sat across from her) will ease- well, he really tries to believe her. The truth is, he's not sure he wants to move on. It's not like he can't let you go, he'd just rather have you back. The whole ordeal leaves him a little disoriented, if he's being honest, and suddenly he finds himself at home again with almost no memory of leaving her house.

Time seems to move differently these days, but there's no consistency to that change. Some days he gets in the shower and finds himself at the table 3 days later, food he doesn't even remember cooking sat in front of him. Other days he lies in bed for weeks on end, but when he looks at the clock only 5 minutes have passed. He's not sure what changed- perhaps it was him. Maybe he's losing his grip on reality. Then again, he doesn't know if he ever had one in the first place, and that's probably why he's so lost without you. You were the only stability he ever really had. It's hard to believe that the world moves on, that you moved on. All those trips you planned, the dreams you shared with him, the late night talks and the existential crises and the way you'd sometimes crack an egg on the back of his head while you were baking just to laugh when you watched him go red- those moments weren't his anymore. They were never really his at all, just something you let him be a part of. His access to your life had been cut off so suddenly, and quite frankly he feels he'd rather have lost access to his own.

When he gets an invitation to the wedding of one of his team members, he tries to quell the pang of guilt as he stashes it in a drawer and tries not to cry. He probably won't go. Is it rude to miss the happiest moment of someone's life because he's heartbroken? It's probably ruder to have a mental breakdown at someone elses wedding, and he's not sure he can handle such a painful reminder of something he never got to do with you. He wonders why they're getting married so fast, and then realises that it's not really that fast at all. Time is actually moving for the rest of the world, it's just Tōru who's stuck in the past. Sometimes he wakes up to a cold bed and wonders why you're not there, searching for you until it hits him that you left and he falls apart all over again. But when he looks back on your relationship and finds nothing but his flaws- he can't bring himself to blame you for not sticking around.

Your biggest point of contention could have been so easily fixed. The countless arguments, the nights you spent on the couch, the anger and betrayal in your voice when you would ask him about it- whether he told the truth or not. Your brother was a kid, is a kid, and honestly what kind of 24 year old fights with his girlfriends 16 year old brother? He wants to cry when he thinks about it. He pops up sometimes in your social media posts (and Tōru knows he shouldn't check them but he can't help himself- he needs proof you're still out there, that you didn't leave the world like you left him), in family vacations and wedding planning posts and a particularly tear jerking message to him when he got into the University he wanted, and if Tōru could apologise for the relationship he'd had with him, if he could give him all the love and luck in the world and be the older brother you'd begged him to try and be- well, maybe things wouldn't be so bad right now. Your fiancé- the word brings bile rising to his throat like a sickly tidal wave- seems to get on with him well, and that just drills even more holes in his already hollow heart.

"You know, you could get any girl you wanted." Mattsun offers, not so helpfully, when it's been nearly 3 years and he's still heartbroken. The engagement ring he'd bought you just before the breakup- the one he never gave to you- is stashed in the drawer next to his bed. Theyknow it’s still there. "Yeah, dude, you'll find someone else. There's like a million people in the world-" “Try 7 billion." "Listen- nobody said I was smart," Makki points at him like he's debating something when he says this, and it's fairly obvious that he's more than a little drunk. They've all had their fair share, run up a tab that would make a sailor faint, but Oikawa couldn't feel more sober if he tried. "But I'm trying to help you here. My poi- my point is- well. Why are you so hung up on her? She's just- she's another girl, you know? Plenty of fish and all that. Unless fish aren't your thing." "Why would fish be his thing?" "I don't know man, I'm hammered." "We all are. But you know, he's right! She clearly wasn't the one for you- you just gotta find the one who is." "I don't- have either of you considered that she was the one for me, but I wasn't the one for her? You think after nearly three goddamn years of missing her I haven't tried? I can't move on. She's all there ever was for me and she's- she probably doesn't even think about me." The two men in front of him share a glance before Mattsun stands up. "Come on. You gotta get home, get some rest." With one of their arms hooked around each of his, the two of them help him home.

When they enter his house- for the first time in a long while- they make no effort to hide their shock. "Jesus Christ dude." Makki whispers. "When was the last time you cleaned?" "I don't know." He admits, but he's too numb to be ashamed. It's not like it's dirty, per se. He throws his trash away, and does his dishes and laundry, but he doesn't put books back, his furniture has been rearranged 4 times this week alone and- "Are you sleeping in the living room?" "I- I can't sleep in the bed anymore. It's too cold without her." He thinks the sympathy on their faces makes him feel worse than when they were telling him to get over you. When they finally leave, he sits on his pile of blankets and pillows, their words running through his mind.

If you were just another girl, he'd have moved on by now. He'd be able to sleep for more than an hour at a time, he wouldn't wake up crying after dreaming of you. He wouldn't feel the weight of exhaustion seeping into his bones with every step he took. Nights wouldn't be restless and painful, spent wishing he could turn back time until he got it right.

If you were just another girl the world would look the way it used to. Colours would still be bright, sunsets would bring him joy, he'd still go U.F.O watching at 3am. The moon wouldn't be distorted by his tears when he sat in the yard and stared at it- for hours or for seconds he was never sure. He'd still live in the world, rather than simply observing it's changes like a lost ghost. He's not dead- at least, he's pretty sure he isn't- but nothing he touches seems to move the way it used to, none of his emotions seem like they belong to him anymore.

If you were just another girl, he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't be sat in front of the TV, wondering why he can't hear it. If the sound is off, he can't bring himself to care enough to change that. Sometimes real people talk to him and he wonders why they're muted. Sometimes he wakes up halfway through the day- already going about his life but with no memory of anything before that moment. Sometimes it feels like he's watching himself through the TV he wastes so much time in front of. He wonders if he's depressed. He forgets what he was thinking about before he can come to a conclusion.

It's a great big world, and you're just another girl, but to Oikawa Tōru you're the only one in it worth anything. And it seems like you're the only one in it who wants nothing to do with him. He's stopped trying to get used to that.

taglist: @tremendousglitterthing @svtbitch @the-fandom-ness

#my writing #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toru imagine #oikawa angst #oikawa tooru angst

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morphituu · 5 years ago

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Milagro

Chapter 19: Leonardo Makar Jakoby

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18

Note: before you read this chapter, i'd like to share with you the song that helped shape and bring this piece of writing together, and if you have the patience i hope you'll take a listen and further understand the emotions i intended with this 💛

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The front door swung open faster than she intended, but Callie couldn’t stand to be under the glaring sun and heavy humidity a moment longer. Her locks were frizzed and sticking to her neck and shoulders, and sweat was lining her honey skin in droplets when she stepped into the cool house.

“Oh god, close the blinds,” she lamented, waddling through the kitchen to stick her flushed face in front of the freezer. “Next time I’ll just do laps around the house,”

“Yeah I can get on board with that,” Nick called from under the vent in the living room, his shirt left hanging on the back of the couch.

Her forehead bounced against her arm rested on the fridge, staring down at her stomach. “Please come out,” she groaned. “I can’t get any bigger,”

“We could try sex again,” Nick simpered, leering over his shoulder.

“I’m sweating,”

“We’re sweating,” Nick snorted.

When she at last stepped from the fridge, she brought with her a bowl of homemade deep red salsa that had sat long enough for the shimmering oil to be seen pooling at the top. She hastily and with little care unwound the nearly empty bag of tortilla chips on the counter, plunging a chip into the dip.

“That’s gonna make you sweat more,” he bravely commented, joining her across the bar and dipping his own chip that piled pitifully compared to her towering bites.

She swayed and pulled air in harshly between her teeth as she chewed, an eye pinched shut and hands flailing.

“You’re gonna give yourself lethal heartburn,”

“If it gets him out I’ll deal with it,” she coughed, going in for another bite.

“You still have three days baby,” Nick reminded, wincing at his own bite of the searing salsa.

“I’m not taking any chances. I can do this,” she too reminded, her gaze harder than her words.

“No one is doubting that,”

“But everyone is expecting otherwise,” she murmured, snapping the lid back onto the jalapeño tupperware. She wouldn’t look up again, but he didn’t need to see her face to recognize the discouragement drooping her shoulders.

Nick chewed his last chip and dusted his hands of any crumbs before jogging around the wall and into the kitchen, immediately holding wrapping her in a tight embrace from behind. “I know you can do it,”

“I know you know,” she sighed, finally leaning back into his chest with her head on his shoulder.

He listened to her chew on the crunchy jalapeños and chips, his lips against her shoulder and rocking side to side. “He’s really going today,”

“Since this morning,” she added, moaning when he dragged his hands across her stomach, alleviating the insane itching that plagued her night and day. Her frame melted in his arms, tossing aside the last bite she couldn’t bare one more of with her mouth already feeling like fire.

When her fingers laced behind his neck, a low growl vibrated through his chest, his caresses wandering higher.

“I have time before I go in,” he groused.

“That walk wiped me out,” she sighed, curling her spine ever so slightly despite being ready for a nap. The implication alone got her blood boiling in a way she didn’t mind despite her wiser half protesting at anymore physical exertion.

“I’ll do the work,” he rumbled, angling her jaw to stop her low whine. “You just worry about enjoying it,”

“It’s gonna be work, you gotta help me get him out,” she murmured in defeat, her breath catching when he massaged a tender breast through the dress.

He chuckled into her hair, a burly arm supporting her up when two thick fingers slipped under her dress and panties. “I know what I’m doing.”

It was too good.

The haze she floated in, the fan blowing across her naked, spent body, the cold sheets she was lost in; the kisses she opened her eyes too when she felt Nick’s impression on the bed beside her.

It was all too good.

“Time to go already?” she asked softly, her hands feeling his unbuttoned uniform shirt before her heavy eyes opened.

“Mhm,” he toned into the top of her breast. “It’s a half shift today,”

“You’ll be home for dinner?”

He nodded, exclaiming sorely once standing.

“Frijoladas?” she asked, rolling on her side with a pillow ready to stuff under her stomach.

“Oo, hell yeah,” he grinned, stepping into his slides. “You stay pregnant until I’m home,” he pointed, his tone grave.

“I think he’s too comfortable in there,”

“Good. Keep him in there until tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow?” her brows furrowed.

“It’s my day off,” he grinned cheekily.

“Don’t get shot,” she said into the pillow she embraced, breathing in Nick’s cologne.

“I’m too quick.” He teased, bouncing around a couple times to rile some giggles. With a final kiss shot her way, Nick was shuffling down the hall towards the door and grabbing his bag, then keys, and groaning against the assaulting summer heat once outside. It only made him want to slink back into the dark, cool room with Callie, but regardless of whether there was a c-section in three days or she managed to get Leo out beforehand, he had five days worth of time to spend with the two whenever he decided to make his debut.

Just the thought had Nick shaking his hands loose of the tremble they’d steadily maintained.

Everything was set and ready for his arrival, but counting down the minutes made the wait excruciating, and if Nick was being honest, he wanted him out weeks ago. The daily barrage of texts from friends and family asking is he here yet!? were not so much a pain, but hourly reminders that he had no control over his sons awaited birth, and that another day had gone by without him in his arms.

Even if I’ve been fucking her three times a day, he thought bitterly.

He’d been promised from all directions that sex would do the trick, but all either had gained from it was funny walking and a sore dick, not to mention the few times where neither had actually came and they’d just flopped over one another in annoyance.

He pulled onto the road, the chilled air blasting across his face and chest that was already accumulating sweat.

Maybe he should bring home chili’s to eat with the dinner.

Seeing as that's our last hope.

In the afternoon blaze that looked over LA, people were irritable and hollering at one another in traffic. Many drivers didn’t have the luxury of working AC in their old beaten cars, and sitting under the sun flared tempers of all races, especially humans and Orcs. He even found himself spitting harsh choices of words at particularly dumb drivers that only further congested on-ramps, and by the time he made it to the station, he could barely muster patient responses when the baratement of where’s the baby? came.

Do you think I’d be here!? He wanted to shout, but he still needed a job to come back to.

“Still!?” Sergey asked in honest shock, feeling Nick’s exhaustion bone deep when he shook his head slowly. “You know I’ve heard-”

“Whatever you’ve heard we’ve already tried,” he groaned, the pair making their way to the lockers.

“Even-”

“Don’t say spicy foods,” Nick snapped.

Sergey’s nose scrunched. “For someone who’s expecting the miracle of life you’re awfully cranky,”

“I’m not cranky,” Nick shoved his partner into an empty locker, his shoulder making loud contact with the metal door, but he laughed it off. “I’m impatient,”

“Why not just take off the extra days before it happens?” Sergey intoned.

“Over-time pay, that’s why.” Nick smirked, pulling his lock off the locker door.

↠

She flung out another onesie so the feet popped out, holding it up to decide whether this one was to hang or fold, and decided it would be stuffed into his already packed dresser.

For weeks now Leo’s closet had been bursting at the bolts with clothes and blankets and everything else that came with a baby; so much that Callie wouldn’t actually need to buy any clothes until he was at least one, but that didn’t stop her, or Nick from plucking cute sets from racks and all the assortments of socks possible, not to mention beanies.

She traced the pads of her fingers along the baby blue designs lining a hooded onesie, grinning to herself.

Nick had picked this one, going on about how easily his little melon would get cold.

Callie placed it in the pile to be hung up, and if need be, she’d take a few out to make sure it found its place amongst the others. Her brows furrowed the longer she stared, starting to question if it should tag along in the hospital bag. The rooms did get awfully chilly.

“I’ll come back to you,” she decided quietly, leaning down to grab the next article of Leo’s clothing from the basket between her feet.

Though her eyes remained trained on the TV muttering lowly in the living room, she’d completely retreated back into her thoughts when that first cramp of the day hit, but when it continued long enough for her to really evaluate its depth, she realized this one was… different.

The Braxton Hicks that had tormented her for months were sharp, often radiating down into her pelvis like minor shots of electricity. They’d subside quickly before the next one came, but this cramp was intimidating. It wrapped around her entire stomach, stretching to her lower back, and this first one wasn’t even painful. It was low, and lasting, as if giving a stern warning about what was to come, but wouldn’t pain come with something like this?

She exhaled slowly when it finally ended at thirty-six seconds, ames still outstretched and holding a little sweater while deciding upon her next move.

Callie looked down slowly as if she expected something to lunge up at her from below, but all was the same.

Leo swirled a few times, but he’d been calm since the previous day, even when Nick cooed lovingly to him to purposely evoke some kicks and shoves.

She glanced at her phone, noting the time.

“Alright then,” she cleared her throat, flinging the sweater out flat before piling it on the tabletop. She still glanced around while continuing to fold and sort, listening and waiting for something else to come, but it wasn’t until about twenty minutes later that she felt it again, and this time she had enough sense to press a hand to her belly and actually feel the contract-

No, she shook her head, continuing on with her laundry through this one. It was uncomfortable, but manageable, and definitely not that , she decided. It just didn’t start like that… did it?

When this one ended at twenty-two seconds, she scoffed.

“Almost had me there,” she mumbled, carefully piling the clothing on the table surface.

The third one was… annoying. It almost made her grip the table in support, but she bullied the discomfort aside and told it to fuck off. It radiated deep from within her gut like a period cramp, which didn’t help convince herself it wasn’t what she thought.

When the fourth one came, her attention to the ‘cramps’ had increased, and with her palms pressing into the tops of her knees, she straightened her back and ground her teeth, but sitting through them only generated more intensity.

But by the time the fifth one came, her leg was bouncing high and though she tried, she couldn’t help but cringe. The severity had grown more than she could’ve expected so rapidly, but forcing herself to move through them kept her from panicking. Folding laundry was the last thing she wanted to be doing now, but she also knew if she’d simply sat there with her undivided attention on this, she’d call Nick and likely take a ride to the hospital for false labor.

So she leaned back in her chair after throwing a pair of little pants back into the basket, holding her wrist against her forehead as she waited for this one to stop. Her skin was warming up, her heart hammering between her ribs.

Tightening her thighs only brought more misery when she tried to cross her ankles, and her palms fell over her eyes when it finally subsided. Callie exhaled hard, pushing her loose hair back and the basket away with her foot. No way she could concentrate on that. Her head lolled to the side when looking at her phone, debating heatedly within herself to call Nick. Her fingers tapped against the back of her hand atop her head as she stared at it, reaching after a few moments to swipe the screen up.

“No!” she snapped, tossing the phone down. “This isn’t it,”

Callie rose then, straining and following her stomach into standing before waddling to the kitchen. Her actions were unprecise when reaching into the fridge for a water, cranking the cap off angrily. She drank it purposefully, as if giving her body water would mean she was right and this was just a weird form of dehydration, or something.

“Mhm, mhm,” she went on as she gulped, a hand on her hip and rocking side to side.

But here came another one.

“Chinga su madre-” she sputtered, slapping the bottle down on the counter and bending forward. “Oh fuck me,” she forced out, leaning onto her knees as she continued to rock side to side through the harsh tightening. With every one that passed, the vigor that matched a charlie horses rapid incapacitation grew, and it brought back vivid recollections of the time she laid withering away in Nick’s arms as the onslaught of premature labor defeated her.

“No,” she straightened, exclaiming when her body gave her back a bigger no. Bowed over and down against her knees she went, puffing out a few quick breaths before slowly rising this time.

Her steps were cautious, one hand on her stomach while the other traced counter tops or walls, hovering to the back of a chair so she could gather the clothes that needed to be put away. By the time she made it to Leo’s room with arms full of fragrant, clean outfits, it had died down, but now came the soreness after them. Each step was coupled with sharp stabs that landed at her lower stomach and groin, bringing forth hard breaths from between her teeth.

She pushed the door open with her elbow, padding carefully across the plastic laid out over the carpet in preparation to paint the room, but now she feared it was too late for last minute projects such as this.

The clothes to be hung were draped over the crib until after she finished stuffing the folded clothes into the drawers, shoving aside the abundance of socks to make room for even more while counting her breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

“Get in there!” she whined lowly, shoving the drawer closed so she could move on.

Her urgency to finish wasn’t farfetched; just as she’d reached for the last of the outfits to hang, she instead found herself leaning against the crib, her forehead landing on her forearm and doubt melting away under the fervor of this one.

Deep breaths did nothing, nor did squatting which had been sworn up and down on that it worked, but only resulted in her stuck down there, hanging onto the bars of the crib and mashing her teeth together through the physical torment that stifled her breaths. The duration didn’t even matter anymore, because these were far from normal Braxton Hicks.

Callie laughed to herself as the contraction died down enough to pull herself back up, her grip remaining steadfast on the crib until she knew she could walk without swaying. Her eyes cut down to her stomach, her bottom lip starting to tremble.

“I told your dad I’d wait until tomorrow,” she breathed, her voice breaking.

All week she’d done all she could to start this, to meet her son and at last hold him, but now she was alone in his room and terror was her only companion. How did she end up questioning her own capability when she’d done nothing but tell everyone how able and ready she was for this? How did doubt always find its way in?

I need Nick. She needed her rock.

It was time to finally, finally meet their son, no matter how prepared she thought she was or how terribly she shook now as the realization that nothing could truly prepare her for this cast over her like a shadow.

Callie nodded, her eyes sliding shut and taking a slow breath in, then letting it out even slower. “Okay,” she exhaled, stepping warily from the crib and reaching for the dresser beside the door.

Her hand landed on the door frame the moment she felt it run down her leg.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed when the warm fluid kept coming, pooling in the plastic around her bare feet. It’s sickly sweet odor was unpleasant, as was the shocking amount. Her hand shook when touching between her thighs, observing the shimmering liquid on her fingertips.

“Oh-” she gasped, laughing again. “Okay, okay,” Callie inhaled, sights set on the table in the dining room when she took another step.

But the world pulled out from under her, and the back of her head cracking against the floor was heard before everything was felt. The shock to her spine, the next contraction, her skull starting pound so loudly she could see it. Her hands lifted weakly, but they completely missed, folding heavy against the carpet beside her head.

But the contraction… it was so dull now as her world started to close, and her bent knees slid out in her own puddle of amniotic fluid she was stretched in.

“Ni…” she breathed weakly. Her arms were unable to lift again, the throbbing in her skull too mighty to fight.

A hard roll of shivers shot up his spine, shimmying his shoulders and shaking his head.

“Is the AC too strong?” Sergey asked, reaching to turn the dial.

“Nah, I just got a shiver,” Nick mumbled, rolling his shoulders again. He’d knocked loose that one, but what was this agitation that wouldn’t lift? It had come to a simmer in his belly, leaving him restless and uncomfortable no matter how he shifted in the seat.

He glanced around, jumping between passing faces and buildings, even scenting the air inside the car inconspicuously to see if some threatening scent had wafted in through the vents, but nothing explained the discomfort he felt.

It was irritating and only sank farther into his gut, heavy like stones.

“Ugh,” he groaned, moving around again.

“Tummy troubles?” Sergey played, hiding his smirk.

“Shut up,” Nick laughed off, but his grin vanished upon pulling out his phone. His thumbs flew over the screen, shooting a quick message to Callie.

Gotta cover all your bases.

Consciousness came back to her like a kick to the jaw.

It rang behind her eyes, thundering against her temples. The sweat that had broken out across her body mimicked that of a fever dream, but her thoughts were crystal clear as she came back. The weight of her limbs was substantial, barely mustering the energy to hold her pounding head and bend her knees-

The shout that cracked in her throat was stifled late, far into the fast moving contraction gripping her frame, leaving her gasping and curling onto her side.

That’s right, she was in labor. Active labor.

Callie pushed her upper half up, her hand sliding in the amniotic fluid pooled beneath her. She was rigid in pain, a shaking breath just moments away from becoming a shout. There was no counting, no more rocking side to side through it. There was only the suffocating wrath wrapping around her midsection like a suffocating corset, curling her neck back as she bared her teeth to the ceiling in agony.

At last it started to ebb away, leaving her spent and heaving into her palm before smoothing back her sweaty hair.

She wanted to lay back down, even being soaked in sweat and fluids with a throbbing skull. A migraine would be an easier foe to fight; at least then she wouldn’t be so dizzy she couldn’t even stand to keep her eyes open. But she couldn’t fall back into the quiet darkness. She had to bear the static in her vision and the hot tears that sprung before them.

This couldn’t end here.

“Go get your phone,” she gnarled, looking up at the door frame.

Her limbs shook something awful after finally pulling herself onto her feet, the amniotic fluid continuing to trickle down her inner thighs. Every step was a gamble, but with wet handprints left on the walls and a small trail behind her in the carpet, she made it to the table by the time another contraction was coming.

Her hands slid harshly across the table surface, knocking over clothes and mail, but her frantic searching didn’t yield her phone amongst the clutter.

“No no no-” she cried, gasping when it again constricted her midsection like an angry fist. She landed in the chair, her head flinging over the backrest and bawling into her hands as it’s fury kicked back into high gear.

The seconds felt slower than before as they ticked by endlessly, her legs kicking helplessly until she curled forward and crawled onto her knees and elbows that burned against the carpet.

Breathe in- out, breathe- breathe in-

It was impossible. Anything was. The only thing she wanted was to scream, but the floor smothered those. Loud grunts ripped from her throat, the dress clinging to her body like a wet sheet. Trying to form words in hopes she could calm herself down was futile when she couldn’t make it through a full breath without shouting, and as long as she was stuck there on the floor, she couldn’t find her phone.

It surely hadn’t even been a full minute since the last time he checked his phone, but he still looked again anyways, chuffing when there was no response from Callie.

Nick shifted to lean on his other foot, arms crossed and back burning under the glaring sun while stood in full uniform at the center of a lawn listening with only half his concentration to Sergey as he took the reins on this call. It was probably best that way too. If Nick had to deal with this stout man screaming about his lawn, he’d likely shove him into one of the many trash cans lining his yard.

So instead he cracked his neck, trying to ignore the sweat collecting across his scalp and gave in to checking his phone once again, but still, nothing.

Nick exhaled with another adjustment of the kevlar vest, hoping to alleviate the tightening of his chest.

Making it back to the table to again look for her phone hadn’t only been difficult, but a test of her willpower to remain standing when the contractions kept coming and strengthening enough to at first keep her on the floor for some time. She’d long since pushed her soaked panties down her legs, but was fearful if she reached down, she’d be faced with the top of Leo’s head and still no way to call for help. The thought of wobbling her way out of the house was quickly tossed; all their neighbors were busy singles or couples that were rarely home, and she sure as hell couldn’t just walk outside and scream.

So now she was upright again, even going as far as to unfold some of the clothing that it maybe could’ve been hiding between, but her thorough search did not produce the phone.

A few times she could’ve sworn she’d heard it vibrate somewhere, and when it went unfound she started to question her sanity. She did just crack her head against the floor and still struggled to keep her eyes open; it could be right under her nose and just couldn’t see it.

Callie’s hand flew over her eyes when she felt the fresh burning of tears, a weak sob building in the back of her throat. Between contractions she’d try to remind herself to relax, not to overexert herself more than she was already doing, but once the pain was no longer occupying every fiber of attention, she was left with this crippling fear.

Leo’s perfectly planned birth had suddenly been yanked out from under her in a matter of seconds, and now she was here, stranded and alone in the middle of her own labor that was completely out of her control. All the terrible outcomes she’d been warned of were suddenly so plausible; she could be losing another baby right now and she just didn’t know it yet.

Was labor supposed to hurt like this? It was so close to what it had felt like the first time during Tikka’s battle- so was she dying? Was Leo!?

There was no one to ask as she sobbed, leaned against the table with weak knees and wailing into bunched up laundry as another contraction fired up.

They were starting to last longer, which gave them more power without even really intensifying. Every one dragged on for eternity; it terrified her thinking of this going on for hours when she’d look to the clock above the bar and face that it’d only been a mere hour since first coming to.

Would Leo even have that much time?

She steadied herself against the edge of the table, pulling her messy wet hair from her neck and face to fashion into a neater bun.

I’ve had many patients who’ve tried delivering vaginally and the baby’s become stuck in the pelvis because of their size.

Her stomach that had decreased in size since her water broke had been still; Leo had been quiet through all of this, not even a small foot to jab into her ribs like he normally did when she moved around too much, and she knew why. He was slowly moving down with every tight squeeze, coming closer to the end of his journey, but Callie didn’t know how she could ensure that being here.

She looked up, scanning the living and dining room.

Would this be enough to bring him into the world?

These walls had seen her grieve the loss of babies before; missed opportunities of a family and little laughs. Would they witness life this time?

Callie’s face hardened, nodding to herself with quickening breaths.

“I can do this,” she panted, tears brimming her eyes. “I can do this,”

Without Nick?

She wiped her eyes crudely, stopping hard when another contraction buckled her knees. The basket flipped it’s contents out before her alongside a curse, but through her own spitting profanities, she heard a soft thump , then the hum of her phone vibrating beside her hand, hidden under a small shirt. Her laughter was hysteric as she clawed for it, pressing it against her sweaty forehead and sobbing. When she could look at the multitudes of messages Nick had sent, she brought her face to the sky, thanking whoever had been passing by for showing mercy.

Cal answer me please

He sent the text with a hard press to his screen, the phone shoving back into his pocket as he made his way back to Sergey and the stout man who’d still kept hollering, but was now going to be dealt with a handful of tickets he’d accumulated after a quick sweep of his premises revealed he was the man who someone had called about.

Although at this point it wouldn’t help, Nick still took a cautionary breath while making his way across the lawn. He was a few insults away from slugging the middle aged man and calling it self defense, but Nick couldn’t trust himself not to concuss him if given the chance.

The strong vibration of his phone against his thigh completely turned him around, raising a hand to Sergey as he answered Callie’s call he’d waited desperately for.

“I texted you like a hundred-”

“Nick come home Leo’s coming!” she gasped harshly into the call.

It was what he’d feared had been happening the entire time his texts and calls had gone unanswered. There’d been days she did this; usually it was because of a nap or showering, sometimes forgetting her phone in the kitchen, but today, it wasn’t the heat that made his skin sweat, and it wasn’t his uniform that felt too tight around him. The discomfort had been under his skin, building deep down in his gut as the time dragged by. He’d known it all along, but couldn’t accept it until now.

He shouted something at Sergey, but to know if he understood him would go unconfirmed. Nick couldn’t even hear himself above the instant pounding in his ears, his sprint back to the cruiser and jumping behind the wheel all a blur, his voice shaking when he told Callie he was already driving.

The sirens stayed blaring the race across town, slamming his palm against the horn when the inane didn’t know better to get out of his way, because he’d push cars aside with his own if they interfered with this. What they’d been waiting years for, what he’d had nightmares and daydreams about, what he was so ready to protect.

It left him in disbelief while he drove wildly through the streets- surely to face harsh criticism once he’d returned to work- that in this moment, he felt no fear over meeting his son. It was only bubbling excitement to soon have all his questions answered, to finally touch the feet that kicked mightily when he heard his father's voice.

Nick’s hand covered the wide smile that spanned across his face, an equally insane stream of laughter erupting as the understanding fully dawned on him, and with that, the fear returned, too.

He was about to be a father for real, now.

By the time he was screeching around the last turn to the home stretch to their house, he’d composed himself and silenced the laughter he knew she didn’t need to be dealing with right now. By that phone call alone he could tell she was probably in hysterics, but why had she taken so long to reply then?

The sirens had also been killed before coming to a shrieking halt in the driveway, not even bothering to close his door before sprinting across the lawn.

He swung the door open so hard it bounced against the wall. “CAL!?”

“Over here,” came her weak call, and he again didn’t bother with the door before following her voice to the dining room where she was slumped in a chair and fanning her cheeks with an envelope.

“Are you okay? Are you alright?” he implored, squatting down to hold her face that was flushed and sweaty.

“My water broke all over his room and I slipped and hit my head,” she pouted, hot tears falling down her cheeks.

“Wha-” he choked, quickly standing to move her hair apart and check where she said it had smacked against the floor. Thankfully there was only a small abrasion that barely bled, but after going on to tell him how she lost consciousness and was sensitive to light, he knew there was even more reason to hurry.

“Leo’s bags,” she pointed, moving to hoist herself up.

“Hell no,” Nick scolded, easily scooping her up bridal style. “You’ll sit in the cruiser and I’ll get his stuff,” he was already walking her towards the door, taking the moment to kiss the top of her head when it rested tiredly against his chest. The exhaustion she must’ve been feeling was probably crippling based solely on her limp movements and weak voice.

Another contraction was starting when she was placed in the seat, but Nick moved faster than before when she waved him back into the house hurriedly, gripping the roof handle and arching against her seat. It was only a matter of seconds before he returned and was throwing all their bags into the trunk and himself back behind the wheel and they were off with the sirens blasting again.

Surely another harsh lashing was to come from that misuse, but this was worth it.

He didn’t know what to say or ask when she squeezed his hand like a vice, her legs straightening like a board and smacking her thigh repeatedly as she did her best to ride the contractions out silently. A few loud cries made their way from her throat still, then a soft apology that Nick would insist wasn’t needed.

He’d hold her face and kiss her cheeks when they stopped in traffic and Callie urged him to turn the sirens off when they did nothing to move the congested lanes no one could budge from, but it pained him to see her in such agony when they split her down the middle.

“W-what can I do?” he asked, fighting to keep his focus on her and the traffic inching forward.

“Nothing,” she gasped, her head lolling to look at him. “But it’s okay baby, just concentrate on the road,” she breathed, both of her hands securing around his. The sincerity in her big, tired eyes was there, but so was anxiety. Could he even tell if she was going to swing into one in this state?

“Talk to me,” she grunted while positioning herself in the seat. “Did we agree on what color he’d be?” she smiled.

He laughed nervously, a hand on the wheel and another on her stomach while her body was calm. It was so hard now, and if he wasn’t mistaken, even a little smaller. “I think we said mostly you with freckles of my color,”

She laughed, wincing. “I don’t think he’ll have hair,”

“I think he will. Maybe pointed ears,” Nick glanced at her, his smile fading when her face started to tighten again.

“And tusks-” she got out before her hand slapped against his arm to grip, this time wiggling onto her side to press her face into the seat.

It was another hour before the hospital was finally in sight, and for the first time in their relationship, Callie had been the one to leave bruises on his arm. Nick this time would take full advantage of being a cop; he could leave the cruiser parked right in front for as long as needed and no one could do anything about it.

“Ready?” Nick asked after darting around to her side with the bags looped around his shoulders and chest. His vest and belt had since been removed; they were only an annoyance at this point.

Callie’s response wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t entirely sure, either. Although she nodded, the tears in her eyes and tremble of her chin revealed to him the fear she’d tried hiding up to this point. All the times she’d told him, herself, everyone that she could do this, she was still questioning herself in the moment. All this time she’d done her best to bury that dread, but now facing the question anew, could she do this?

A small team of nurses had come out with a wheelchair after spotting exactly what was going down and Callie was transferred from from his arms to the seat, his hand lingering in hers until he was forced to follow behind.

Her intake was quick; apparently your water breaking got you a spot right to the front of the line in the maternity wing, but just as they’d given Callie a bed and IV with the promise of rest, an exam to verify what stage she was at had her cursing just as loudly as she did during a contraction. Nick’s fingertips turned white under her grip, watching in horror as the attending dove knuckle-deep to examine her.

“Okay my love,” the attending stood, pulling her gloves off. “You’re at seven, so almost there. Did you want an epidural?”

“No,” Callie snapped. “I’m doing it natural,”

“That’s fine, but know we don’t give them after a certain point so we don’t slow down labor. Who is your OB?”

“Sangui,”

“We’ll page her, I think she’s here today, actually,” she jotted down in her little notepad she’d brought forth from her chest pocket, a few strands of hair loose around her eyes. “Okay, sit tight and we’ll be back,” she smiled, squeezing Callie’s foot before leaving with the nurse.

“Hey,” Nick scooted back beside her, wiping his thumbs across her brow and looking into her tired eyes. “How’re you doing? What can I do?” he asked in soft tones, kissing her gently when she shook her head.

“Tell me I’m gonna be okay,” she croaked, hanging onto his wrist.

“You’re definitely gonna be okay, both of you are,” he reassured, pressing his forehead to hers when she closed her eyes and nodded, soaking in his confidence.

Now out of her soaked dress, the crisp hospital gown actually felt nice on her hot skin, as did the cold sheets of the bed, at least until she was rolling onto her hands and knees as another contraction roared to life. Callie cried from the misery in her lower back, unable to remain still or even lay down when it wrapped around her.

Between sprints, Nick, although feeling like more of a nuisance than actual help, spooned ice chips into her mouth and pressed forcefully against her lower back when she begged for some kind of reprieve, moving on to carry all her weight when she hung in his hold after deciding to stand and walk around; that only lasted a half lap around the room. It was an awkward way to hold her up like this, with his hands clasped against shoulder blades and forearms under her armpits, but it seemed the way she hung deadweight helped ease some of the insane force across her body.

Until they were taken upstairs to a more appropriate room for her delivery, Callie bit and smothered herself through the pain, leaning over into the bedding to scream instead of trying to walk and breathe through it like the nurses so urged. Sometimes it was the mental strain that needed to be eased.

But even then the allure of pain meds grew as the time drew on.

She walked and bounced on the exercise ball when they said it would help speed labor along, but either of those became impossible as the contractions only grew closer. There wasn’t enough time to catch her breath before the next one came barreling down, and within another hour, she couldn’t stand to be touched.

Laying down was murder, but so was standing up.

She stopped Nick everytime he urged to call Rosie or his mom, telling him he wasn’t allowed to until Leo was out. Knowing my luck this will all be false labor, she had groaned.

She wanted to rip off the noisy monitors banded around her distended waist, but hearing Leo’s heartbeat thunder through the speakers reminded her of what was to come after all of this, that she knew as soon as she saw him, all of this would be worth it.

So she grit her teeth and clung to Nick when the pain came, her nails digging into his arms and shoulders, but he didn’t let out a peep of discomfort. In the moments she was free of misery that left her breathless, he held her against his chest and kissed her steamy cheeks, wiping away the sweat dotted across her forehead. He only told her how strong and capable she was, but never asked her to keep fighting through the pain. He didn’t want her to think she had to break herself over this; that it was okay to ask for pain relief if it was easier on her already strained body.

Callie grunted against his chest, her knees propped apart with a couple pillows. She’d given up trying to find comfort with the ten pillows that only made her hotter, and although Nick was a heater of his own, he came with big hands that massaged her miserable back.

“Do I need to move?” he asked, starting to pull his shoulder from underneath her head.

“No,” she grunted, rolling her onto her back. ”I gotta go to the bathroom,”

The heavy door to their room opened, and at last Dr. Sangui came in with hands clasped and a warm smile. “What ever got you here needs to be relayed so I can share the secret with the other a hundred moms desperate to pop their babies out,”

“Homemade salsa,” Nick grinned.

“Oh, well some of them are out of luck then. How’re you doing Callie?”

“I have a lot of pressure on my butt,” Callie frowned tiredly.

“Well let’s do a quick check here then,” she moved to grab gloves from off the walls. “When was your last one?”

“‘Bout an hour ago,” Nick answered, already offering his hand after Callie slid fully onto her back and spread her knees.

“And you were seven then?” she asked, apologizing softly when Callie tensed. She still nodded through it, this one not anywhere as bad as before.

“Well, get ready for the last stretch,” she looked up at the nervous couple. “It’s time to start pushing,”

Callie’s expression worried, her head dropping back with a hand rested against her chest and the other in Nick’s grasp.

“Hey,” he called softly, stopping her before she walked into that storm. “You can do this, baby,”

She nodded with him, eyes glossy. “I can do this,”

“You can, you’re finally gonna see him,” Nick’s voice wavered, but he took the opportunity to kiss her knuckles before leaning down to kiss her, reassuring her as many times as needed.

The staff was a blur around them, setting up trays at her feet and dimming the lights to make way for the blinding one above her. Gowns were draped over scrubs and Callie’s bed was formed until she was upright with one foot in a stirrup and another in Nick’s hold, his thumb caressing her knee comfortingly.

“Alright hun, why don’t you give me one good push to see where we’re starting,” Dr. Sangui smiled from behind her mask.

Callie nodded, her chin touching her chest when she pushed, whimpering at the immediate growth in pressure.

“Mom’s a good pusher, let’s set up quickly,” she called back to her staff cheerily, smoothing down the blue mats between herself and Callie.

It was a small boost to her confidence, but one she’d take nonetheless.

She watched them finish laying the blankets over the warmed tray and the scale beside it, the stethoscopes ready around their necks and bulbs prepared to be used. She didn’t dare examine the tray of scalpels and head clamps within Dr. Sangui’s reach; she couldn’t concentrate on that possibly.

Callie’s knees started to tighten. “I’m gonna have another one,” she groaned, her toes curling.

“Okay Callie, when you feel it, that’s time to push, alright? Push right into your bottom like you’re poopin’,” she instructed, scooting closer between her feet.

Her hold adjusted around Nick’s wrist, looking up at him, searching.

I love you, he mouthed, grimacing when there was only a second of her bright smile before it was time.

She pushed with every fiber of strength she had left in her spent body. Until her face was red and they said rest, she pushed even if it felt like her middle was splitting open.

Just go just go just go! She screamed internally, desperate to move her mind around the torture, but everything was pain, and she felt every second of it. Every twist Leo made in her pelvis, she felt. Every inch he moved farther down between her hips; at one point she stressed her hips could dislocate, but was only told to keep pushing.

The breaks between the pushes were still agonizing. The pressure was that of the kind around your skull when you dive too deep, but it didn’t lessen when she calmed.

“...seven, eight, nine, ten, okay take a breath,” Dr. Sangui breathed with Callie. “And again, push,”

With her chin to her chest and jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth would shatter, she started to care less and less about the gutteral sounds she made. She grabbed the back of her knees, her face scrunched-

“Here comes the head!” Dr. Sangui smiled. “Keep going- five, six, seven-”

Nick leaned forward to look, the air punched from his lungs once observing the horrifying sight before him.

“Okay take a quick break, this is the ring of fire but I think you can have his head out in another push,” she encouraged, piling gauze beside her.

“Oh fuck me,” Callie breathed, panting before falling back into concentration and pushing again, and lord did the ring of fire live up to it’s name. This time the shouts wouldn’t be suppressed, nor the curses. There was no way in hell anyone could expect composure now at this point with her center literally on the brink of ripping apart.

“Breathe breathe breathe and again,”

It was hard to hold her breath while she pushed; there was already so much pressure everywhere, and her head was starting to pound again-

There was a popping sensation, some slight relief.

“Heads out! C’mon Callie, one more good push!” Dr. Sangui cheered, a nurse stepping forward with a blanket over her outstretched arms.

Callie couldn’t see past her stomach when she searched frantically. “His head?” she looked up to Nick who’s eyes had glossed over when he looked at her.

“He has hair,” he smiled, his voice cracking.

Callie tittered, her shaking grip adjusting around Nick’s wrist again.

“You can do this,” he held the back of her head, sincerity pooling in his molten eyes. “You’re so close baby,”

Callie nodded again, eyes pinching shut when the wrath started to build up.

“Okay hun, one more time,”

She waited, inhaling deeply. “I can do this,” she whispered.

Nick started to exclaim and encourage when she felt Leo start to move from her, his grip tightening on her leg, but she couldn’t open her eyes while she pushed. Sangui cheered the same, and could feel her fingers move around Leo’s jaw and neck, pulling gently against her body until the pressure was finally gone.

She exhaled loudly as he came spinning out, Nick’s breathless exclaim opening her eyes just as the tiny, gargling screams came.

Callie sobbed as soon as he was lifted onto her bare chest, his arms thrown out angrily and puffy eyes pinched shut as he wailed into the cold world around him. Finally he was in her hold, at last able to touch the velvety skin of his face or feel his cries when resting her hand on his back, and the deep breaths he sucked in between every holler. She held the back of his delicate head, astounded by the dappling of Nick’s color that formed the markings across his round cheeks and human nose, all the way back to his tiny pointed ears.

Her words weren’t words at all, but simply emotions taking flight in wails and sobs as she touched every part of him that she’d grown.

She looked up at Nick who was wiping his eyes crudely against the sleeves on his arms. “I did it,” she sighed, her eyes sliding shut when he kissed her forehead. “Nick look at him,” she beamed, pulling him closer by the shirt.

His vision was blurry from tears when he dragged his knuckles faintly across Leo’s soft cheek, hiding the sobs in his other palm. His soft graze traced the tones of his skin, detailing the freckles that dusted across his shoulders and cheeks like his mothers.

His strong, little fingers wrapped around Callie’s, squeezing and releasing as he continued to weep against her chest as he was jostled and dried by the nurses. Nick smoothed the sticky, sandy blonde hair from his forehead, the parents laughing when Leo grunted loudly before stirring again.

“I didn’t expect this color,” Callie commented, carefully pulling it up to see he already had a few inches worth of hair running the curve of his head in a thick stripe.

“I didn’t expect hair,” he snorted.

Callie kissed his fingers, tears trailing down her cheeks as she admired him. “He’s so perfect,” she whispered, tapping his puckering chin.

Leo’s face scrunched, a soft chuff stirring a few coughs.

Nick’s heart wept; there was already so much of himself in him.

“I can’t believe how pretty he is,” Callie spoke softly, the pair in awe when he whined, his face sorrowing.

“He looks so sad,” Nick grieved, rubbing his arm that curled in tighter to his body, still gripping Callie’s finger.

Callie hushed him softly, craning her neck to press a flurry of kisses into his cheek and temple. “Que paso hermoso? Hm?” she cooed, more kisses finding his hand. “Are you angry you had to come out?”

“Is he…?” Nick trailed off, both of them freezing when his swollen eyes started to flutter open. Nick leaned far over, fighting to catch a glimpse of his eyes. “Can we turn that off?” he asked, pointing at the light.

“Oh, yep! Sorry little guy,” Dr. Sangui grinned guiltily, adjusting the high beam from his face.

Two bright golden jewels rolled around behind squinted eyelids, making out only a blurry outline of his father that smiled down at him.

“So all you got from me is my nose, huh?” Callie joked, both of them chuckling.

Leo’s big eyes opened wider, his head pressing back into her palm.

“Talk again,” Nick said, watching in amazement.

“Leo,” she called softly, beaming from ear to ear when he stilled, his eyes opened and looking in her direction. “Do you recognize my voice bebe? Do you hear me Leonardo Makar?” she whispered, kissing his knuckles.

He kept looking up, his blinks heavy as she spoke to him, kissing the space between his eyes that Nick ran the pad of his thumb up and down over to make his nose scrunch. When it was time for him to be weighed, her heart sank the moment he cried after being lifted from her chest, his serenity broken and warmth taken away

“Go with him,” she told Nick who was already following his crackly cries to the small heated bed.

He wailed and kicked, and Nick fought shouting at them to do this all later. Why couldn’t he just lay with Callie!? They didn’t need to be putting bands around him and measuring- he wasn’t going to grow that fast!

“He is ten pounds four ounces,” a nurse smiled back at Callie.

“Oh my god,” she wailed from behind him, but Nick wouldn’t drag his eyes from Leo who was continuing to howl and tremble under their assault.

What else could they have to do!? They’d done the lengths, drying, wrapping yada-yada, what the fuck else!? How long were they gonna keep him crying there!? He wanted to move beside him and talk to him, offer his touch in comfort, but they remained huddled around him, rolling him side to side as they swaddled him.

“Ready to hold him dad?” an older, more soft-spoken nurse asked Nick while she finished fixing the beanie pulled over his matted hair.

His anger fell away, excitement bringing forth a quick nod.

Leo was starting to whine angrily again just as Nick found his seat beside Callie’s bed, another nurse propping a pillow under his elbow before his son was lowered carefully into his arms. His head rested in the crook of his elbow, his body curled inwards towards Nick and his hands peeking out from the blanket where he tried to suck on his fist.

In Nick’s hold Leo looked small, but even he knew just by holding him that he was a big baby, but everything about him was precious, miniature. Nick’s curiosity moved under the beanie to his pointed ears, following his brow down to the tip of his rounded nose- Callie’s nose- and over his soft lips that searched for milk.

Leo’s feet nudged softly against Nick’s palm where his bottom half was curled up, and he squeezed them with great care, watching his toes spread when a foot finally broke loose of the swaddle. Nick’s thumb fit across the bottom of Leo’s silky foot, his toes curling around the tip of his finger when he pressed gently.

He chuckled every time a little arm sporadically sprung upwards, his grabbing hands aimless and sometimes gripping Nick’s shirt. His grip was strong around his finger, lifting his hand to gaze at his little, little fingernails.

Callie watched with misty eyes as Nick pulled Leo closer to his chest, leaning down to press firm kisses to his face, nuzzling his nose under his round cheeks even when the baby boy whined in protest. His crackly voice stirred sympathy in Nick’s already bursting heart, softly, and only half-heartedly apologizing to him after peppering more kisses against his chubby cheek. The blanket was secured tighter around his little shoulders, talking softly to him in Orkish whispers that he hoped would calm Leo’s tired cries. Babies crying usually made him nervous, but Leo’s little wails stirred something close to a sobbing laughter, something affectionate and overflowing with admiration for the little thing he held close to his heart.

He wanted to see those big, amber eyes look up at him, but the longer he remained curled tight against Nick’s warm chest with calming pats against his bottom, the more he couldn’t bear to move him from contentedness.

“Of course he doesn’t kick you when he’s angry,” Callie mumbled playfully, giggling at Nick’s goofy grin when he could finally pull his gaze away from his handsome son.

“He’s got a lot to say,” Nick rubbed the space between his eyes again, chuckling when his brows furrowed and he whined louder.

“Now we can call everyone,” she grunted, eyes pinching shut as the doctor went on to stitch and clean her up. It stung, but was nothing compared to five minutes ago.

Nick gasped softly. “I have an idea,” he whispered to Leo excitedly. He cringed when he disturbed him while stretching a leg to dig his phone from his pocket, comforting Leo enough to keep him from wailing as he found his mother in his call log, but his quick panting would soon lead to full on sobs again.

High-pitched whimpers started to emit from him, his arm coming from the blankets.

“I see what you’re doing,” Callie reached to touch Leo’s forehead, rubbing her fingers back and forth over the velvety skin.

Nick tensed when the line picked up, and as planned, Leo started to cry louder, his round face souring. “Ma?” Nick called, his voice bubbling with excitement.

“Nick- who’s, who’s baby?” Dinara finally spoke, breathlessly that was.

He fought but couldn’t steady his voice before saying, “He’s here, Ma,”

There was only shouting after that, clustered and slipping madly between English and Orkish as she screamed for Oleg, struggling to get out what she intended. Nick tried to answer her blubbering questions, but she was crying the next one out before he even had time to finish the first.

Nick let the nurse lift Leo from his arms and back into Callie’s after she’d finished, ending the call with his parents after getting enough out to tell them what hopital they were at.

“Come here come here,” Callie reached excitedly, cradling him tight to her chest and freely reining kisses over the small plain his soft face.

Nick wiped his eyes again, standing to watch quietly as the nurse assisted Callie on how to get Leo to latch, his body unwrapped from the blankets and resuming skin to skin contact. Now he was really screaming, his short legs kicking wildly and arms throwing erratically until he was placed on his stomach over Callie’s bare chest.

The sensation of breastfeeding would definitely be something to adjust to, and Leo although being eager to eat was a stubborn latcher, crying angrily when Callie struggled and her soft words doing nothing to calm his hunger.

Nick could see her becoming flustered under the gaze of the nurses, glancing up nervously while trying to adjust the support under her arms.

Without a word, he stuffed the pillow higher under her elbow, releasing his own breath when she did after Leo finally found his spot.

Her head dropped back, eyes closing with a small smile across her lips. “Thank goodness.”

It was a brief feeding; Leo needed only a few drops of colostrum before he released, but the whole feeding had been another sight to marvel at. He grunted through his nose as he suckled, his face scrunched hilariously. Leo detached himself with a single sharp cry, his big eyes starting to flutter open again. This time, Nick had his phone ready for pictures when he looked around sleepily, and blindly, basically, but his cries were now little grunts and chuffs, breathing rapidly in between wide yawns that made Nick and Callie’s hearts throb.

Nick promised and pleaded her beauty when he started taking photos of them, begging her not to hide her glow after pulling the blanket down enough to snap the photos that would be cherished forever. Leo lasted a while before his lids started to slide shut, his sporadic wiggles calming when Nick rubbed his bare, fuzzy back.

He leaned over to wiggle his face between his shoulder and cheek carefully, pressing final kisses everywhere until he started to stir, but rested his cheek against his back, the beat of his rapid heart filling his ears.

Callie touched Nick’s cheek, her eyes pooling with tears again. “He’s perfect, isn’t he?”

He kissed her before he lost his composure again, smoothing her messy hair away from her face and reminding her how beautiful, amazing, and strong she was. “He’s perfect because you’re perfect,” he kissed into her cheek, wiping her eyes when she tried to look away with blushing cheeks.

“Hey!” she sniffled, craning her neck to find their bags. “Get my phone, yeah? I wanna call Rosie,”

Nick quickly located her phone, handing it to her but replacing her hand on Leo’s back so he wouldn’t roll away by some miraculous chance.

Callie navigated her phone until the line was ringing on speaker, hopeful she wasn’t in the middle of a call.

“Heeey,” Rosie answered nonchalantly.

"You have to promise you won’t be mad at me,” Callie barely got out past the excitement in her voice.

There was a pause. “What did you do?”

She withheld the laughter to say, “I’m holding your nephew,”

“My nephew… my nephew. My nephew!? You had Leo!?” Rosie shrieked, the panic heightened in her shrill voice over the line.

“He has my nose!” Callie lamented, both her and Nick laughing when Rosie only screamed obscenely through the phone.

“I’ll be there! I’m coming right now, I love you so much I’ll see you soon!” Rosie sobbed, the line clicking before Callie could get another word in.

“I hope she doesn’t walk in screaming like that,” Callie giggled, stuffing her phone beside her.

Their attention quickly moved back to Leo when an acute growl vibrated through his small body, and that was when Nick lost it. He hid his face against the pillow behind Callie, laughing as she did but also sobbing like a mess. There was no need to explain the confusing swarm of emotions he was under the spell of to Callie or the nurses around them, and definitely not to Dr. Sangui who congratulated the new parents on their healthy baby boy, assuring to Callie that as soon as she left she’d be canceling the c-section.

When the sobs were muddled and eyes red and puffy found his son again, Nick rested his cheek against Callie’s arm above Leo’s head so he could watch him sleep, kissing soft I love you’s into his covered head while she counted his toes and fingers, touching the two freckles on his chin that matched hers. They detailed the distinct patterning of Nick’s hue over the caramel glow of his skin, the darker freckles in some spots and the lighter ones over his cheeks. Nick was in awe at how much of himself and Callie he found the longer he stared and how much was unexpected, but in every sense, and every way possible, Leo was perfect.

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Leonardo Makar Jakoby

July 19th | 10 lbs 4 oz | 21 in

Born to proud parents Calista & Nicholas

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😍Expect a lot of secret drawings of Leo now😍

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musingsofawannabewriter · 4 years ago

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Can I Be More Than The Person I Have Become?

Here I am again. Once every few months, sometimes years I get that urge to put pen to paper or in this instance finger to keyboard.

When I was little reading my mom’s Jodi Picoult, Danielle Steele or Avon romance novels I felt inspired. I wanted to write a book people would cherish and love. Then I read Purple Hibiscus and then the doubts came.

Purple Hibiscus is one of my favorite books ever and the author Chimamanda is an inspiration to me. But the doubts came because I believed I could never write a book as amazing as Purple Hibiscus, that stirred so many emotions and feelings in me that with each rereading makes me discover something new. It didn’t help that Chimamada is that perfect Igbo first daughter who has a first degree and not one but 2 MA’s and speaks fluent Igbo.

My admiration for her was tinged with a lot of jealousy. I am an Igbo first daughter, that can barely speak/understand Igbo despite growing up in Nigeria most of my life, I only have a BA in Law, I failed spectacularly at a Masters programme that from the start I only applied to because I thought it was expected of me.

There are so many flaws in myself I could spend hours picking on but won’t for the sake of bringing down the mood of this article/opinion piece. Despite feeling I could never measure up to CNA I still chose literature as my elective in my GCSE’s and WAEC exams. Had an A for both and was the best student in class for the former. But I still felt like a fraud. I understand English, I speak it but the technical rules stump me sometimes. Like the semicolon… No matter how many times I can’t seem to retain when it applies. I suck at writing dialogue because I am always confused where to add the apostrophes and commas. Subject verb agreement, well I stumble my way through and hope for the best which has worked out okay so far.

I used to write in notebooks fervently in Secondary School. I would craft stories which would get passed around different students and their compliments and eagerness to read my words fueled me. I was going to be a writer maybe.. Get my first degree in Law then a Masters in Creative Writing. Maybe after becoming successful I’d be the next Michaela Coel adapting my work to the screen to great critical acclaim.

Well let’s just say reality hit hard, no punches pulled whatsoever. I left my sheltered Nigerian boarding school after graduation to go to the UK full time for my A Levels. First mistake was spending my years pocket money in under 3 months. Second mistake was essentially being mute for my first year of school. I have always been quite reserved and find it hard to talk to people. Going to a full boarding school meant I saw my classmates almost 24/7 so bonding and socialisation was inevitable. Well with A levels only having 3 subjects to study and it being a day school meant I could go a week without speaking to anyone except the lovely lunch ladies in the cafeteria.

If I am being honest I wasn’t used to interacting with white people and felt self conscious about my accent so it was a perfect storm.

Then the whopper…I have always had a complicated relationship with food. Since I was younger my weight has fluctuated heavily. It didn’t help that my mom was one of those slightly bigger women who decided to become a gym addict and drop all the weight. A lot of her insecurity from being bigger rubbed off on me, directly and indirectly.

Having your mom take you to exercise classes at 13 hurts. Having your mom be so happy to see you lose so much weight because the food at your boarding school sucked hurts. Having people complimenting your mum and asking how you're related to her cuts even deeper. Every stab at my heart at confidence got buried deep. In school, I would restrict my eating by spending breakfasts which I hated asleep in class, would skip a few lunches then binge at dinner times. This had the effect of keeping my weight stable.

Even then my mom still criticised my weight. When I look back at my size 12/14 self in secondary school who was gorgeous, a rage fills me. I was so beautiful but with zero confidence. I hurt so much and wish I could go back in time for a few minutes to tell myself I was worthy of being liked, by others and myself.

Eventually being away from my mom, the safety of my boarding school friends and siblings made it easy to seek solace in food. I was in the UK, I was living in student accommodation and for the first time in my life I had a debit card. I spent hundreds of £s a month in takeaways. Then I spent over £100 on diet pills which made me feel ill. In under a year I went from a size 14 to 24 to my mothers horror and mine. I didn’t know about the body positivity movement or Tess Holliday. I only knew that my mom was angry and sad and worried I would die in my sleep one night.

In almost a decade, that has been one of her mantras when talking to me about my weight. That she can’t bury her child and she’s afraid one night I will sleep and not wake up. In her mind its concern, but the way she says it feels like emotional manipulation.

Reading back there’s a lot of mother bashing going on, but it is not intentional. Some people are besties with their mothers and I prefer a more distant relationship. We will eventually get to the daddy issues but that will take some tears and a while before I can go into that.

I crave the catharsis of writing. The word vomit and jumbled feelings in the pit of my stomach. It helps me see myself as that idealistic 16 year old with a heart full of dreams and hopes. Not the current dried out husk I think I am now. I think of my future in abstract terms.

I don’t see a family, mortgage or dog. I just see myself barely existing. I feel this with a resigned calmness. Then I have my internal spiral of being to shortsighted and hasty in writing my life off at 25. I read tweets about people finding first love in their 30s, going back to school in their 40’s and getting into their careers in their 50s. Then I hear that voice in the far corner of my mind whispering, do I even want to make it to my 40’s…

And I answer back quietly that I really don't want to make it to my 40s. I’ll maybe hold on till my parents die so my mom doesn’t lord it over me that she had to bury her child and not the other way around. But some nights I really don’t want to be alive. Some nights I wish I was never born and just like clockwork the tears start. Those tears that I hold in and the dark thoughts I numb with the stimuli of food, YouTube and now K dramas.

For the past few years, I have made my Other World. This Other World is essentially a parallel universe. In this universe I have no issues with food, I have an incredible metabolism that means I can eat virtually anything without guilt. I make friends my first day of college and join so many student societies and actually participate. I push myself in school and get into my mother’s dream of a Russell Group. I choose LSE though she wishes I chose Queen Mary. I work hard, join the Law Society, meet a lovely British Nigerian with a great background, we date a few years and get married. I get a Masters in Creative Writing and have an amazing blog which gets adapted to a critically acclaimed series and I am fulfilled.

Sometimes my Other World self changes. She is the daughter of millionaires who is a genius, polyglot and fighter of social justice. I can sing, know martial arts and take the movie world by storm. Other times I am just pretty and living a simple but happy life. I know in my heart that these are just fantasies and sometimes I wish I could be like Buffy in that episode of BTVS and stay stuck in that Other World fully. I’m sure you’re thinking about my family who I’d leave behind. My response is I can’t miss them if I never remember I had them.

I am the first daughter, the Ada. My parents though flawed always tell me I am a great role model for my siblings. I am seemingly still a virgin, don’t drink, do drugs or rock the boat too much. And I feel even worse. I feel guilty that with all they have sacrificed that they have been stuck with an average daughter and by upper middle class Nigerian standards, if that even exists, a sub par Ada. I feel defective looking around and seeing others in the peak of their careers, vetting engaged, building houses for their parents. I am still afraid of driving!! I can’t even get that basic skill down.

4 years post LLB, no LLM to at least lessen me not being a lawyer and stuck in a customer service role almost 3 years now. I know I am at fault for not making the right decisions. Not applying for the grad jobs or vacancy schemes in time. Being so down and depressed I wouldn’t leave my room for days and weeks at a time. Failing all my LLM modules, adding back all the weight and more after boot camps with my parents, not having enough savings and having an even worse accent after almost a decade in the UK.

My self-deprecating joke I tell is that my sister is the multi talented one, my brother the smart ambitious one and as my parents say I have a big heart. That essentially my parents would say my thing is having a big heart, like that ever helped anyone build a career. I thought if I couldn’t write then I could maybe study Social Work. That got shot down by my mother and I was persuaded to go into the path of Law for University. I applied for Social Work Schemes and got rejected multiple times over multiple years. I was too scared to sink my own money to self fund a Social Work Masters in case it became another LLM fiasco. SO now I have made Teaching my next career goal. I am resigning myself to it the way Henry the 8ths spouses and mistresses must have whenever he wanted to bed them. Powerless and without a choice. Then I think that’s false equivalency and my pain could not be on the level of the pain they must have endured.

So many feelings, deep thoughts and memories flow out when I get the writing urge. I will likely never actually share this in full for obvious reasons except maybe anonymously. These few pages have jumped through quite a few time periods and experiences. My thoughts aren’t always linear and that ties in with something else I acknowledge but haven’t been serious about. I legitimately think I have ADHD and/or BPD. Watching the diagnosis episode of Crazy Ex Girlfriend by the amazing Rachel Bloom shone a light on feelings and behaviours I have had for a while. Maybe that’s why from the first episode of the show I was in love. She was stuck in the past, holding onto Josh who represented a time in her life of happiness. She had cutaways to magical musical numbers involving herself and the people around her.

The ADHD comes from following iconic black women on twitter who were outspoken about their diagnosis and bringing focus to how black women were being underdiagnosed. But then I think maybe I want to have ADHD as an excuse for the failures in my life and with the current NHS waiting lists I may not get a formal diagnosis for a while. So for now I manage and exist.

I like being honest in my writing. Exposing those dark parts of myself that I let fester in the recesses of my heart and mind.

#black writers #adhd #igbo #life #hopeful #scared #prose #self love

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backtobackbakubabe · 5 years ago

Text

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 4)

Bakugo x Reader

ANGST HOLY SHIT ANGST.

Words: 2613

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

*****************************************************************************************************

Today was your first day on the job with your new partner. You couldn't exactly say you were disappointed with who you chose. Izuku had gone to school with you and he actually had known Katsuki longer than you had. He was just as surprised as you when Katsuki had recommended that you team up with “Fucking Deku” Shocking you further he finally decided who he was going to team up with... He picked... Denki...

Bakugo claimed there were no good options and he didn't want to talk about it. But you got the feeling that he was a little excited about fighting with one of his UA pals again.

Izuku insisted that you call him by his hero name while on duty, but you just felt wrong calling him Deku when you knew the origin. But you complied and told him he could call you by your hero name if he wanted. You told him about how you had gone back and forth on names for a while but you had finally landed on Adsum.

“Oh cool! If you don't mind my asking what does it mean? I mean it sounds pretty but I don't think I’ve ever heard it before.”

You had forgotten how adorable Izuku’s little nerd mumbles were, “It’s latin for I am here. You know because I teleport so its like one second I’m here and the next I’m there... It’s kind of stupid...”

Deku’s jaw dropped, “WHAT! Thats the coolest name I’ve ever heard! THATS ALL MIGHTS CATCH PHRASE! Oh wow I’m so jealous. I wish I would have thought of that. That would be so cool to have All Might’s catch phrase in a different language as your hero name. Latin is such a beautiful language....”

You tuned him out as you opened up a new text to Bakugo.

y/n: I’ve spent all of 15 mins with Deku and I’ve already gotten him to nerd mumble twice lol. I’m totally going to make this a game! See how many times I can get him to do it in a day.

Babe: Fucking nerd...

Babe: His records 12 by the way.

y/n : Oh Yeah? And how would you know that?

Babe: Same reason I know he’s mumbling right now and you’re totally ignoring him... I'm observant.

Your head snapped up. No way. Where was he hiding? Was that asshole really watching you on your first day apart?

“Oi Deku!”

Deku stiffened a moment out of habit before he schooled himself to turn around and face Bakugo, who had somehow managed to sneak up on both of you.

“Oh hi Kacha... I mean Ground Zero!” As much of an asshole as Bakugo was to Deku, Deku never really seemed to let it get to him. “What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Kaminari?”

Bakugo walked past Deku without so much as a glance as he stood in front of you, feet firmly planted, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes boring into yours. “Deku I’m only going to tell you this once. Keep an eye on her. She’s sneaky and will run off on her own. So try to keep up for once in your life.” He smirked at your irritated glare before he continued. “I’ve honesty thought about putting a bell around her neck. But if you listen carefully you can hear her gasp as she goes to hold her breath so make sure you’re fucking listening!”

He softened just a bit before he leaned over and gave your forehead a quick kiss “Oh and I think this goes without saying... if anything happens to her I will fucking kill you. Got it?!”

You both look over and Izuku is studiously writing everything Bakugo was saying in one of his many notebooks mumbling about all the new facts he just learned about you. “Kill me.... Got it...”

Bakugo smirked at you, “There, now you’re at three. Only ten more to go to beat my record.” He gave your ass a quick swat before turning to leave, “I need to go find dunce face before he gets himself into trouble. I’ll see you at home. Please be safe.”

And just like that he was blasting off, literally blasting off, creating quite the scene as he went to go find his new partner.

You rolled your eyes at your dramatic boyfriend and went about you day as usual.

When you got home that night you couldn't help but teleport right into Katsuki’s lap. “Alright I knew the first day was going to be hard. But seriously working with Deku is sooo much different than working with you. I missed your little quips and the way you pushed me to always be on my A game. I royally fucked up today and Deku was all, ‘Oh it’s fine Adsum... Don’t worry about it Adsum... Everyone makes mistakes Adsum...’ Which I mean is nice and all but I messed up! You would have torn my ass to pieces! You kno-”

Bakugo slapped his hand over your mouth, “New house rule. I don’t want to hear about anything that has to do with Deku. Unless he did something that put you in danger, in which case I would need to kick his ass, I don't want to hear about it.” His scarlet eyes bore into yours, his hand still covering your mouth so you just nodded. “Alright. Good.” He removed his hand, “Now about you royally fucking up... Do I dare ask what you did?”

You instantly blushed, “Well you’re not going to like it.”

He sighed, “Yeah I gathered that when you said I would have torn your ass to pieces. Y/n what did you do?”

You leaned into him, hoping if you were snuggling with him he would be less angry. “Well you see it’s not totally my fault. There was some sketchy villain who was selling hero tech illegally and Deku and I were following him to see if we could catch him in the act. He ended up catching on to us and made a run for it. He turned down an alley...” You started running your hands up and down his arm mindlessly as you got to the part you knew he wasn't going to like. “So I was supposed to teleport ahead of him and cut him off. No big deal, I do that all the time. Except you know how I have to visualize were I’m going? Well we weren't exactly on a street that I knew too well. So instead I ended up in the building he was running into and... well.. it was some kind of headquarters. So I unintentionally popped into a room full of villains without backup and I panicked and teleported right back out to the street where Deku was, but they all had seen me and now the place has been cleared out. The police had been watching them for months now and were preparing a bust, but I went and tipped them off and fucked everything up.”

You threw your head in the crook of his neck so you didn't have to see how disappointed in you he was.

He wasn't having any of that though, he gripped your chin and made you look at him. “If you’re waiting on me to yell at you its not going to happen. Sure you made a mistake today. But you also did something very right. You assessed your surroundings, knew you were outmatched, and you got to safety.”

You pouted, “Yeah but you would have stayed and kicked all their asses.”

He smirked, “Well you aren't me. And I’m thankful every day that you're not. I’m reckless and impulsive and proud. I also have a quirk that can blow people up and you don't. I’m very proud of you for getting yourself to safety. Deku on the other had is a pussy for not going in there. He totally could have handled that on his own.”

You slapped his chest, “Hey are you saying I couldn't have handled it?!”

He grabbed your hand before you could slap him again, “I’ve never lied to you and I’m not going to start now... No. I don't think you could have right now. There is not doubt in mind that in a few years you will though. You improve every day and you have this drive to do better that almost rivals my own. Just give yourself time. You’ll get there. I know you will.”

******

After that first day you settled into a routine. You’d come home and shower while Katsuki made dinner. Sometimes he’d be on night shift but he would leave food ready for you in the microwave. You’d tell him how many times you got Deku to nerd rant and he would tell you how many times he got Denki to short circuit. It was nice.... Until one day it wasn't.

It had only been three weeks since you changed partners. You and Deku had a graveyard shift and so far it had been pretty quiet. You were just about to text Bakugo to see if he was awake and if he could bring you some coffee, but then you heard it. A blood curling scream.

It sounded pretty close and out of instinct you started teleporting around to try and find its source. You don't even remember saying anything to Deku, You just acted. This is exactly the kind of thing Bakugo begged you not to do. But you couldn't help it. Someone out there needs your help.

You teleported two or three times before you found the source. The sight made your stomach sink. Human traffickers.

There was at least 12 goons by the look of it all trying to shove girls of all ages, shapes and sizes into a truck. And standing off to the side was Dabi and Shigaraki. Shit this is connected with the league of villains. You sent your location to Deku with a short “need backup. LOV threat 12+.”

You knew you needed to wait for backup but you also couldn't let them leave. Another scream rang out and you saw a crying girl probably around the age of fourteen on the ground trying to crawl away as one of the goons grabbed her ankle and roughly dragged her back. That was it. You couldn't watch this.

You teleported over behind the goon who was dragging her. You tapped his shoulder before teleporting to the other side of him. When he turned back around you punched him in the throat before brining your elbow down on his forearm with a loud crack breaking the arm that was holding the girls ankle. You scooped her up quickly, “RUN! Get out of here!”

You teleported into the truck and grabbed another girl before teleporting her as far as you could and telling her the same. You continued to do this three more times before they caught on to you.

You weren't even ready as a strong arm wrapped around your waist pulling you out of the truck, “I GOT HER!”

You were pinned to the hood of the truck by someone who was incredibly strong and you began to panic.You started to struggle, trying to hit anything you could. “Let go of me!”

Your attacker grabbed the back of your head and slammed it into the truck and you vision blurred. NO! You need to stay awake. You continued to try and squirm out of his grip when suddenly it was gone completely.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!”

You would know that irritated voice anywhere. You were forced to turn around to face a very angry blonde. “You’re lucky Deku called me! You were about thirty seconds away from being one those poor girl chained up in that truck. Fucking Stupid! Do you even now what you just ran into. Look around.”

You looked around and saw that there was actually a lot more than 12 villains and it was now an all out battle. There was at lest five other heros that had shown up to help.

His hand came up to your head to check the now bleeding wound on you’re forehead, “You need to get out of here. You have a head wound and I don't want you to try to use your quirk with it. You’re probably already a little dizzy and I don't think holding your breath is going to help.”

You gritted your teeth, “No! I started this. I’m going to keep getting these girls to safety.”

An explosion rang out as he blew up a villain that had tried to sneak up on you, “Y/n would you please for once fucking listen to me!”

You shoved him away from you, “No you fucking listen to me! I’m going to get these girls out of here. Now how about you let me do my fucking job and and you do yours and watch my back.”

His nostrils flared but he knew now wasn't the time for an argument, “UGH FINE!” You nodded before hopping back into the truck and grabbing the first girl you could grab and teleporting away. There was already a hero waiting for you when you appeared on the other side to make sure the girls got away safely. You kept doing this over and over again.

You honestly were getting dizzy, and a little nauseous. But you just kept telling yourself it was just a concussion and to push through it. You had successfully gotten all thirty seven girls out but when you came back what you saw made your blood run cold. The heros were losing. There was just too many villains.

You heard a frustrated growl to your right and you saw Katsuki being tossed into a wall. He was taking too long to get back up.

He was exhausted. His leg was likely broken. His head was spinning from the exertion of having to constantly use his quirk. It had been nonstop fighting for the past half an hour. He had to keep going though. He had to protect you. He struggled to get up after that last blow, but he was only up to his knees when he looked up and saw a gun pointed at his head. “Fucking coward! Hiding behind a gun!” He heard the gun be cocked into place, he heard the trigger being pulled not once, not twice, but three times, but worst of all, he heard that noise. That noise he usually loves. The one that means you just teleported into his apartment...

“NO!” But it was too late. You had teleported between him and the gunman. Taking the bullets in the stomach. Bakugo sent an explosion that was so large it likely killed the bastard who shot you. Then you were falling backwards, your vision starting to blur.

You were in Bakugo's arms but you don't know how you got there, “Hey baby look at me. Hey open your eyes y/n. You’re going to be okay... I’m going to get you out of here. Y/n please! Y/n...”

Your hand came up to cup his cheek, “I.... got them.... out....”

Tears were streaming down his face now, “I know you did baby, you did such a good job now I need you to just hold on for me okay! More heros are on their way! You just need to hold on a little longer...”

You started to slip away, a single tear running down your cheek, “I... love you Katsuki.” And then you closed your eyes.

But before you were completely unconscious you heard the most gut wrenching, angry scream.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo #katsuki bakugō #bakugo katsuki #bakugo imagine #bhna #bhna bakugou #bhna imagine #bhna x reader #my hero academia #mha bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 5 years ago

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May Be Home, Chapter 11 Word count this chapter: 1950 Catch up here: Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

Characters: au rockstar!Dean Winchester x OFC Sasha. Song: Sounds of Someday, Radio Company Music

Tags: 18+, sex, smut, lots and lots of m/f sex in different ways (fingering, oral, penetrative) in different places (bed, table, car, shower), no condoms ever, enthusiastic consent, Daddy kink, language, lots of alcohol, sexy eating, etc

"Dean," she blurted. "What the hell?"

"Sasha," his eyes lit up just seeing her again. "You wouldn't answer my texts anymore but I need to talk to you. So here I am."

Sasha went weak-kneed and melty just seeing him again. He looked rough as if he hadn't slept in days. At the same time, those eyes, that mouth - she could never resist him. She wanted to hate him, wanted to make him pay; but the truth was, if anything, she hated herself for falling so quickly and completely for him.

Faced with Dean again, seeing how serious he was, Sasha felt her heart soften. She would've launched herself into his arms, except that suddenly Lee was beside her.

"Hey," he said. "Is this the guy that's been bothering you?"

Dean put his hands up in a defenseless gesture. "Hey, no, she knows me, I just wanna talk, okay?"

Lee looked from Dean to Sasha, baffled but still protective. "Sasha? Are you okay talking to him?”

“It’s okay, Lee, I’m going to give this guy five minutes.” Sasha turned towards Dean.

“You’d better give me one hell of an explanation because these guys are ready to take you out back and kick your ass.”

His eyes flicked towards Lee and a couple of the cooks who were suddenly very present and glaring at him.

She slid into the booth across from Dean, keeping the table between them.

Dean reached across the table towards her, then stopped and wound his fingers together. “Sasha, I never meant to hurt you. I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“On purpose or not,” she said plainly. “You did.”

Dean took a deep breath. “The next time I had a weekend away, you were the only girl I asked for. I wanted us to have the time to figure out what we were doing, what all this meant. But you never showed up. When I asked, Rowena told me you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. So I left. I wasn’t interested in anyone but you.”

“So you thought I was just there for a good time? I didn't matter to you - we didn’t matter - and you believed I felt the same way?”

“I didn’t have any idea,” Dean confessed, confusion creasing his face. “I thought we had some feelings for one another, but I also knew that you had signed a contract. Everything was supposed to be no-strings-attached. I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Take advantage of me? Dean, I’ve been yours for the taking from the very beginning.”

“I didn’t know-” Dean began, his voice lost and pleading.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” Sasha’s voice trailed away, tired and overwhelmed. “After everything we did together, after all of the things we shared... You can’t just come in here and tell me you didn’t know."

Dean stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. He held out one hand, beseechingly. Sasha looked away and crossed her arms.

"Sasha, please. I never meant to hurt you."

"Well, you did." Pain turned into anger as words tumbled out. "You meant so much to me. We meant so much. You can't erase all those weeks we've spent apart. You can't show up and just undo how bad you've hurt me by saying you ‘didn't know’."

Dean swallowed hard and blinked.

"You’ve had your five minutes. Now give me time." Sasha's voice was breaking but her chin was set. She jumped to her feet. “Get out Dean, get the fuck out.”

“Okay.” Dean turned and walked away slowly as if giving her a chance to change her mind.

He looked broken and alone, with his head hung low and his shoulders slumped. Her heart ached just looking at him. She wanted to run after him, to beg him to stay, but she couldn’t give in, not with her friends there to help keep her strong.

Lee strode up next to her. “You tell him, Sash,” he murmured.

Sasha watched until the door closed behind Dean. Then she sank back down into the booth, buried her face in her arms, and burst into tears.

Later that night, Dean sent her one more text.

I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to see you again.

She ignored it.

...

Sasha woke up the next morning to a knock on her door. She opened it to see a flower delivery person behind the biggest bouquet of red roses she had ever seen in her life.

The card said simply: Sweetheart Baby girl Sasha Please Xoxo, Dean

Sasha couldn't help the smile that crossed her face, but she grabbed her phone and texted: Roses Really, Dean?

I know roses are dumb. I'm just trying to show you how serious I am. Please.

Please, what?

Please, give me another chance.

Why?

I’m crazy for you, Sasha I’ve never met anyone like you I’ll do anything, anything you want Just to have you in my life again

Why now?

I told you I missed you the moment you left. Not a day went by that I didn’t want to talk to you I couldn't get ahold of you and didn't know where to find you

Why didn’t you even try to call me, Dean?

I thought you didn’t want to hear from me again. I like you but I also respect you I’m not going to stalk you or try to force your hand.

Rowena and Sam, right. If you're going to lie to a girl, at least tell a lie that makes sense.

They’re my family. I had no reason to doubt them. So, what changed your mind?

A week ago, Rowena walked into my music studio, handed me your number, and told me to call you. She said that you’d confirm it. I called anyway because I had to hear it from you.

Hear what?

That you weren’t interested That you didn’t want me Tell me and I’ll never bother you again.

You know I can’t, Dean.

Then please give me another chance. Sasha, please.

Sasha wasn’t ready to answer, didn’t know what to say. So she put her phone down.

She was surprised when her phone rang a few minutes later and it was not Dean but Rowena. She rolled her eyes but answered. Maybe she could find out a little more about what was really going on.

"It seems that Sam and I owe you an explanation." Her words were as quick as ever. "Please can we meet for tea?"

Sasha was off work, so she agreed. She was hurt and confused and curious all at once. Maybe Dean had been telling the truth. Maybe Rowena and Sam would back up his story.

When she got to the coffee shop, they were already there; Sam in a chair that looked too small for him, coffee cup dwarfed by his hand, and Rowena, daintily sipping from a mug of tea.

Sasha skipped the drinks altogether and sat right down in front of them. "Did Dean send you?"

The pair looked at one another in confusion before shaking their heads.

Rowena tossed her head a little and huffed. "Dean doesn't send me anywhere."

"But what do you mean?" asked Sam.

"Dean’s been texting me non-stop, trying to convince me to, I don't know, give him another chance," Sasha's tone was guarded. "He told me that you two were the reason he never called or texted me before."

Rowena nodded slowly.

“He did ask for me?” Sasha’s heart rose just a little. “And you told him I was not only unavailable but uninterested?”

“That is true,” Rowena admitted.

“How dare you?” Sasha’s voice was rising. “What gives you the right to manipulate us, both of us, like this?”

Sam spoke up then. “The whole thing with the girls’ weekends and Dean was supposed to be fun, and safe. He wasn't supposed to fall in love.”

“But you were different,” his voice was oddly soft. “The minute you left last time, he started asking for you again. We didn’t have any idea what your intentions were. Girls have lied to him, tried to blackmail him. We are his family. We tried to protect him.”

“That’s why we didn’t give him your number,” Rowena added. “We thought he would move on, forget you.” “But the opposite happened,” Sam continued, shaking his head slowly. “I've never seen my brother like this. He doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep. He's supposed to be writing new songs. But he doesn't. He can't. All he can think about is you.”

"He wouldn't stop talking about you,” Rowena chimed in. “We arranged another weekend and he left when you weren't there. We finally agreed-” she paused and looked at Sam. He nodded in agreement. “We agreed to give him your number. I calculated enough time had passed that you would be over him, and send him on his way.”

“There is not enough time in the world for me to get over Dean,” Sasha answered, the words falling from her lips before she could stop them.

“I know.” A smug smile curled Rowena’s lips even as she rolled her eyes. "But now, you’re driving him crazy. Girl, he’s gone on you. He's positively pitiful."

Sasha looked from one to the other. "So Dean didn't put you up to this?"

They both shook their heads.

"Shit, no, we just wanted you to know the truth so you can decide what to do about Dean,” Sam answered. “He’s my brother, no one knows him like I do, and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s happy with you and inconsolable without you. We had to try and make things right.”

The two of them stood up to leave but Rowena turned back and placed one fine hand on Sasha's arm. "Dean loves you, you know. I wouldn't throw that away."

Sasha was left speechless. So much information, so many questions answered at once. Dean had been telling the truth; he hadn’t forgotten her or intended to hurt her. Their time together had meant something to him, too. But all she could hear were Rowena's parting words, over and over in her mind: "Dean loves you."

...

When she got to her car, Sasha checked her phone and saw she had another burst of texts from Dean. He must've messaged while she was talking to his brother and manager.

Sweetheart, I know you're still mad at me You have every right to be. There’s something I need you to see. Go to my Instagram. Please.

She couldn’t say no. She was curious, and honestly so confused after the things that Sam and Rowena had just confirmed for her. She didn’t know what to think or feel.

Dean's latest post was a 7-second video clip of him performing- wait- was that Sounds of Someday?

Sasha had never seen a recording of it. She had heard that song just once, when Dean had sung it in a crowded blues bar, and the way his eyes met hers across the room made her feel like he was singing just to her.

The caption was a link. She clicked it and opened a video of Dean, what looked like a cell phone video.

"I want to share my latest song with you." His voice sounded desperate and hopeful at once. "This one is for a very special woman. Sweetheart, I hope you see this."

Sasha gasped. In her wildest dreams, she could not have imagined Dean Winchester recording a song for her. But there was no way he was talking to anyone else. Not after this week, not after everything that had happened. Her hands were shaking, and she almost dropped the phone.

,,, Chapter 12 ....

A/N: Thanks everyone for the feedback on the series so far, and especially the last chapter! Thanks especially to my dear beta @thoughtslikeaminefield who said, “You’re done with Dean now; give him a break.” and then came back and said, “I don’t think you’re done with Dean yet; lets dig into him a little more.” I owe you everything hon.

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons@divadinag @flamencodiva @fookinghelljensensthighs@idreamofplaid @maddiepants@magssteenkamp@onethirstyunicorn @the-chocolate-moose @there-must-be-a-lock@tloveswriting

Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff@deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma @mrsjenniferwinchester@stoneyggirl@supersassyprobablysad @wayward-gypsy

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester #actual rockstar jensen ackles #may be home

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