#i got back into reading by reading kids' books first

[supermaliciousmoi]

Both kids' books and adults' books can be fun, you just have to know where to look

[madelynraemunson]

Valentine’s Day is coming up and I can’t help but wonder how ex!husband Eddie would handle it. Would he break my heart? Break my back? Please Maddy I NEED to know 🙏

a/n: HE’S BACKKKK i’m clutching my chest 🫶🏼 how about some wholesome heartbreak for valentine's day? i tried to incorporate aspects of the original ST universe into the universe that is ex-husband!eddie. i hope you sweethearts enjoy ♥️

“valentimes” day

ex-husband!eddie x ex-wife!reader

summary: you and eddie share a dance when your wedding song unexpectedly comes on the radio…just like old times :)

contains: fluff, mutual-pining, topic of divorce, co-parenting

“if you’re lost, you can look and you will find me — time after time.”

divider from: @strangergraphics

word count: 1.4k words

‘Valentimes’ Day.

It’s what Junior likes to call it. At first you tried to correct him, telling him to drop the M and replace with N, but you decided to partake in the innocence. After all, nothing lasts forever.

Like the muddy footprints on the light wooden floors.

"I'M RIGHT ON YOUR TAIL!" Junior roars, chasing after his siblings with candied pretzels in his mouth. "GET READY TO FEEEEEL... MYYYYY... WRAAAAATH!"

You know what does seem to last forever though? The sugar high your kids are getting from their Valentine's Day candies.

“Walk, kiddos,” you scorn. “If we’re gonna get ourselves dirty, please take it outside.”

You watch as your Mini-We's respectfully pile out the door, marching in a single-filed line in their crowns and capes their dad had made for them not too long ago. And as you continue to cook, a hearty stew for a heart-filled day, you hear a jangling of keys at your front door.

The only other person who has direct access to your house is Eddie; and assuming he's adhering to the family tradition, you expected no one else.

A familiar sing-song whistle sounds from the entryway as Eddie makes his grand entrance. You smile as your ex-husband comes into sight — hands full with presents you couldn't quite make out yet — ready to greet you how he usually does every Feb 14th for the past few years.

“Yo.”

“Hello, hello!” you chime. “Look who’s become a one-tripper.”

“I know, I’m gettin’ better and stronger by the day,” Eddie chuckles. He closes up the space, welcoming you in his bubble with a hug and offerings for the day. “Flowers... for you…"

You blush in flattery, welcoming the Thanks-For-Having-My-Kids floral arrangement into your arms.

"Aaand chocolate," Eddie adds. "obviously.”

“Ooh, nougat."

“Uh huh," he smirks, proudly. "Everyone loves a nougat moment. I also got these teddy bears with wicked Rock-N-Roll soundboxes for the kiddos. Left them on your couch though. It's a surprise."

Eddie's always been such a stellar dad. No matter the occasion, he always made sure the kids felt included, and always made sure you felt appreciated for all your efforts. He shows out every Valentine's Day, and Mother's Day too. Just because you two have separated doesn't mean your past has been erased. Eddie wants you to know that this commitment is for a lifetime, no matter what it may look like to others.

"Thank you."

You walk over to the island to set your gifts down, then gesture for your ex-hubby to sit so you two can engage in some small talk.

Also, 'cause you’re nosy.

“Any plans tonight?”

“Eh, it was just to drop these off,” Eddie shrugs. “Might go to the bar later with some old high school friends. Try to talk up some ladies...”

“Groovy,” you smirk, eyebrows dancing.

“What about you?” Eddie inquires.

“Mama’s having a night in,” you sigh, taking a bite of some nougat. “Gonna pour myself a glass of wine and read a spicy novel before bed.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums. He crosses his arms, leaning forward to meet your gaze. “The one about the long-haired-adonis-with-steel-pecs-and-a-popped-linen-collar who comes to save the day?”

You cock an eyebrow. “You snooping through my book pile, Fabio?”

“No, you’re just predictable,” he teases.

♡

Your kids remain occupied, playing "beach" in the sandlot, away from the intimacy of the two of you.

Junior is using his disposable camera to take pictures of birds. Beside him, Elijah is digging a hole of sorts, and your daughter Aubrey is off in the corner, making faint heart-shaped etchings in what's left of the sand.

She sighs in dismay.

“I like candy and balloons, but this holiday makes me sad,” Aubrey frowns. “I used to be happy when Mom and Dad were together.”

“But they weren’t happy,” Elijah points out. “Now they are. It’s better this way, Aubs.”

“I wish there was a middle for everyone, though,” Junior says. “Like a halfway-happy.”

♡

Back in the kitchen, you and Eddie continue to catch up. You talk about the kids and how school and clubs are going. Elijah has a crush on a girl in his PE group. Aubrey wants to do cheer. Junior wants to perform in the talent show, but he's having trouble rallying some friends.

And you... well, you were burning through your book piles and watching grandiose Hollywood dating shows, sometimes also dancing around the kitchen to whatever Grocery Store-esque song comes on the radio.

"Can't believe you still have this thing," Eddie tsks, taking the rusty vintage boombox in his hand.

"It still plays the good tunes though," you shrug. "Why would I retire it now?"

Eddie shrugs in agreement, putting the boombox back where he got it. The song currently playing soon fades into the background while the radio host's voice comes back into focus.

"Another great hit from KISS!" the host announces. "I hope everyone is having a beautiful V-Day so far. We're gonna slow it down for you, Hawkins! Here's some Cyndi Lauper for ya — this is Benny and you're listening to WSQK Radio."

A nostalgic tune fills the air, the melodic, dreamy atmosphere reminiscent of a much simpler time.

You and Eddie look at each other in shock, hold the gaze for a few seconds, and burst out laughing.

<< Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you >>

"Of course," you shake your head.

"What are the odds?" Eddie blushes, lightly punching the island with his fist to ease the tension. "Our first dance song."

It was a beautiful ceremony, your wedding. Wayne had too much to drink and was waddling around giving everyone hugs. The "kids" you grew up watching took a dramatic plunge into Lover's Lake at the end of the night. And during the dance, it was if, only for a moment, you and Eddie were the only ones on the dance floor, redefining the fabric of time because while it felt like an eternity, it seemed to have passed by in a second.

<< Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind >>

Time is a thief. That was nearly a decade ago.

"C'mon," Eddie encourages, grabbing your hand.

You're instantly launched back to present day. "What?"

"We're doin' it."

"Doing what?"

"Dancing."

You allow Eddie to take the lead, just how he always does when you two would embark on adventures. He whisks you away from the island and towards the dinner table for enough space to move.

"Eddie..." you stumble into him, chuckling nervously. "Really?"

"I mean..." he says, his chocolate eyes a-gleam. "Why not? For old times sake. While the song is on... while the kids are busy..."

His hands seek your hips and find them immediately. Your breath hitches as you take in the glory of him, his timeless face, and the aroma of petroleum from his day job. He's still the same Eddie. His love is pure energy. Never destroyed, just simply transformed. And you can't wait to explore more of this new form of love.

"I'd love to."

You two begin to sway, the essence of your wedding night illuminating through the dimming kitchen. Eddie smiles into you, his forehead nestled against yours, a strand of his wavy hair tickling your eyelashes that sit prettily against your lids.

<< If you're lost you can look and you will find me Time after time >>

Before you know it, the late winter sunset melts into nightfall and your kids, with chattering teeth, begin to pile back inside.

"Brother! Help me with my shoes!" pleads Junior.

"Please," Elijah reinforces.

"Please."

Suddenly, Aubrey gasps.

"Look!" she whispers to her brothers, pointing with an excited finger. "Mom and Dad!"

<< If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting Time after time >>

"So beautiful," Eddie murmurs into you as you two sway in each other's arms. "You always have been...so damn beautiful."

The warmth was like Christmas morning... a belated gift for the kids to watch two homes become one, for just a brief moment. You and Eddie are too busy wrapped up in one another to notice the biggest smiles on your children’s faces, hope flickering in their eyes as if their worlds were right-side up again.

“Halfway-happy,” Junior whispers breathlessly.

It was their (and your guys’ too, let’s be for real) happiest “Valentimes” Day in a while.

tag list 🏷️: @highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @bloodibambiidoll @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @meetmeatyourworst @b-irock @spencerssatchel @yes2476 @comeonatmebruh @bendoverncry @only4wakingup @wiltinglovers @sweetsweetjellybean @fromasgardandback @r4fe-cam3ron

[prettealolilol]

I feel like as a reader and someone who grew up poor, Jason doesn't really pay attention to was he uses as a bookmark. Of course he has a handful of those, birthday and christmas presents, or simply gifts from when Bruce first found out the kid loved reading and wanted him to feel at home. And since the man is rich and emotionally constipated, he bought Jason really expensive bookmarks, like one made in China with a really detailed dragon carved into the wood, or another one embedded with little diamonds from France. Jason doesn't really understand, because a paper would be enough, you know ? There was only one bookmark Jason had truly felt overjoyed to have : one that belong to Jane Austen. Needless to say, Bruce had almost cried when Jason hugged him tight, smiling like he was trying to rival the sun. (When Jason died, Bruce framed the bookmark and put it in one of his desk drawers. When Jason came back, and they were on better terms, he went to his son place and put back the bookmark. When Jason came home, he found a birthday gift awfully wrapped up on his bed. If he cried while holding the bookmark, no one needed to know.)

Back to the point, Jason doesn't really care about what he uses, as long as he doesn't lose his page (although he almost gutted Tim when the boy folded the corner of his book. Instead he shook him like a puppet, telling him about how disrespectfull he was towards books and writers.).

---

Tim, pocking his head in the kitchen, where Alfred is busy cooking and Jason is reading : Has anyone seen my budget report ? I left it on the table in the library this morning, and I can't find it.

Jason, not looking up, shrugging : No one cares about your reports Timbers, no someone would have move it.

Tim leaves, sighing. Later, when Jason goes to close his book and reach for the paper he was using, he realises he was holding said report. Alfred raises an eyebrow. He must have taken it when he picked up the book in the library.

---

Damian, barging the cave, clearly annoyed : Todd !

Jason, repairing his bike : What, demon brat.

Damian : Tell me this instance if you have taken my sketchbook.

Jason, looking up : Why the fuck would I have your sketchbook gremlin ? Your dog is more likely to have run off with it.

Damian stomps back into the manor grumbling about Titus being more polite that Tood could ever be. Jason decides to ignore him. Later, when he's done with his bike and picks up his current book for some well deserved reading time, something falls with a thud when he opens it. Apparently he was the one with the sketchbook and used it as a bookmark. He didn't even realised. He'll have to find a way to give it back without the baby demon knowing.

---

Jason and Cass are sitting on the couch when he remembers he left his phone in his room and is expecting some informations. He looks around for something that could keep the book open, finding nothing.

Cass is staring at him, signing : Looking for something ?

Jason stares at her hand for a few seconds, before shrugging. He takes her left hand, the closest one and put it on his book : Don't move just a sec, i gotta go get something.

Cass stares at his back incredulously. When he comes back and take back his book, she just shakes her head, a fond smile on her lips.

---

Bruce, walking into the living room where the kids are playing : Does anyone have 20 bucks I can borrow ?

Jason, snorting : Aren't you, like, the richest man in the country ?

Bruce : I need to pick up something and they don't take card. There was an issue with the bank so no money can be withdrawn. I put a 20$ bill in the kitchen but I can't find it.

Dick, standing up, taking his wallet : I've got you. You owe me now though.

Bruce, slightly smiling : Sure chum.

When Jason get back to his place in the next morning and drops on his bed, he pulls out the book Tim had recommended a few days ago (although nobody can know he's reading it). A 20$ bill slips on his bed when he opens the book. He takes it, putting it his back pocket.

Jason, grinning : It's sad he didn't even try to find it. It would have so satisfying to watch the great Batman look for a bill hidden in a book.

---

Jason is helping Alfred bring the groceries to the kitchen, because no one in the godforsaken rich family should be trusted with food or anything to do with cooking.

Duke, shouting from the library : Why is there a dictionary open in the middle of the library ? On another book ?

Jason, who hadn't had the time to look for a proper bookmark : It's so I don't lose my page.

Duke, still shouting : Why a dictionary though ?

Jason ignores him. He doesn't have to explain himself.

---

Dick, at Jason's door : Hey little wing, have you seen my blue swe-

Jason, looking at his phone on his bed : What ?

Dick : You're the one who had it all this time. Seriously Jay, why don't you just ask- Why is there an open book underneath ?

Jason, shoting up : Don't touch that ! You're gonna make me lose my page.

Dick, blinking : Don't you have like thousand of bookmarks ?

Jason : Shut up.

---

When Stephanie breaks in Jason's apartment, he is grumbling about babysitting while bringing his med kit. She reaches his couch and suddenly she's laughing so hard she ends up wheezing on the floor. Jason doesn't understand why, until she stands back up slowly, taking her phone out to take a picture. Jason doesn't know if she's laughing at the book mark that is in fact a mug, or at the mug itself. It's clearly holding on for dear life, put down in between the pages, absolutly not stable. He then receives a text on the children Batman kidnapped 's groupchat, seeing a picture of a mug with Batman's signature bat symbol and the inscription 'this mug survives longer than Robins' (actually, Tim has a matching one with the inscription 'bats don't kill... coffee might', but no one needs to know that.).

[nymphaea-blue]

Oneshot - Rafayel would be good with kids.

Info : 1400+ word count, reader and Rafayel are dating, reader is referred to as a female, fluff, mentions of missing someone, perhaps hurt/comfort, small allusion to the possibility of having kids with him in the future towards the end, Tina is in fact made up and doesn't exist within Love and Deepspace lore.

Notes : Rafayel is giving me amazing older brother vibes and that's what inspired this ^^,

Rafayel would be good with kids.

Your coworker, Tara, has a younger sister named Tina that you were charged with taking care of because Tara was needed urgently at work. You didn't mind, she was your good friend and since her sister was around 7, you didn't think it would be a big issue.

The first hour or two went great, you two had fun and as it turned out, Tina was a great kid, pretty shy but smart and well behaved. Later on however, you got a call from Jenna, the situation Tara was tasked with investigating got out of hand and your team was needed ASAP to handle wanderers. 

You scrambled to find someone that would be able to watch over Tina, but everyone you thought about was sure to be busy… except one person.

“Hey cutie, missed me?” Rafayel picked up your call quickly, his tone a mix of playfulness and a hint of happiness at the fact it was you calling.

“Well yes, but I need your help… My friend left her little sister in my care but I'm urgently needed for a mission and I need someone to watch over her for a few hours. Would you be able to do it? Pleaseee?” You begged slightly on the phone, there was a slight worry and panic in your voice because time was of the essence but you were also worried about Tina.

“Hmm.. I dun know, what would I get from it, hm? My schedule is very busy, ya know.”

“I will buy you takeout and bring you more materials for paints. Please Rafayel, I need to leave soon!”

“Alright alright, I was just kidding, I would help anyways. Bring her over, I can play nanny for a few hours.”

As the doors closed and Rafayel waved last goodbyes to you as you hurriedly left, he was left alone with a little kid. Great, soo what now? He had no idea how to care for a child.

“Hey kid, what would you like to do? I got some books here, but I doubt you wanna read them.. they are pretty boring to be honest.” He asked in hopes of trying to figure out the little girl a bit more. She seemed very quiet ever since she entered the studio.

“It's okay, I got my own book, thank you sir.” Tina politely said before she went back to her book as she sat on the couch in Rafayels studio. She was a little shy, it was visible with how she tried to take as little space as possible and not make a sound, but he could work with that.

Rafayel nodded and went back to his painting for a while. He thought that perhaps giving the girl some time to warm up would be a good idea, though he kept an eye on her as well to make sure she would be alright.

After about thirty minutes, he stepped down from his high chair and went over to the nearby kitchen to prepare two glasses of water and he came back to the studio to hand one to Tina.

“What book are you reading?” He asked curiously as he started to drink his own water. 

“... It's a book about wanderers.” Tina answered shortly as she stared at the glass he gave her before taking a small sip and placing it on a nearby table.

“Really? That's quite a topic. Are you interested in fighting?

“Not really, I… wanna be smart, like my sister. She works in the Hunters Association.” 

“Ah, that's quite a noble job. My friend works there too, she does a good job protecting the city or whatever but she doesn't have as much time to meet up with me anymore.”

“What do you do while you wait for her?”

“I paint. Commissions, art for exhibitions, her.. anything, really. Doing what I like is a great distraction.”

“... I don’t feel distracted.”

“Hm?”

“I still miss her… even though I do what I like”

There it was, she opened up a little. He thought that such a subject wasn't great for a young kid, there was bound to be a reason.

“Hmm, well do you really like reading this? Or do you like doing this because it reminds you of your sister?”

“I don't know…”

“That's okay. Missing someone can be horrible, especially with all the waiting. Take me for example, I'm not the most patient person in the world so it's horrible sometimes to just stay all alone while she's somewhere else. But in the end, when my friend does return, the feeling of joy is undeniable, and I think she would like me to be happy while I wait rather than be all sad and think of her.”

“.. So what should I do?” 

“Why don't you try something else? Like painting, for example.” Rafayel said as he got up and quickly gathered two small canvases, some paints, brushes and cups of water before returning to her side and sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

“Painting is a great way to pour all of your feelings onto one place, so you can focus on what exactly you feel. Then, you can show it, using colours, symbolism, texture - anything, really.” He explained in full focus as he talked about something he knew so well as he patted the space next to him to invite Tina to sit next to him.

“So.. how about instead of missing your sister, and thinking of what she does, you think of what you feel and what you want to do?” He looked at her when he said those words and extended a paint brush if she only wanted to accept his offer.

You rang the doorbell as soon as you found yourself in front of Rafayels house. It was late by now, the mission took much longer than expected, and you felt bad about leaving Tina with Rafayel for so long while you were the one who was supposed to take care of her.

He didn't answer, so you used the key you had and opened the door yourself. After you closed it and went into the living room, you saw Tina and Rafayel talking and painting while sitting on the floor. They were so deep into the conversation that they didn't even notice you at first, until Rafayel spotted you after a few minutes.

“Ah, there you are! Started to think you forgot about us. You took your sweet time.” He teased as he stood up and walked over to you while Tina continued her artwork. She looked much happier and energetic now, you noticed.

“I'm sorry… the mission was much more intense than we all thought. I brought you some food though! And I found some pretty flowers nearby as well, I thought you could make some nice colours out of them.” You responded as you handed him the payment for taking care of Tina. You felt bad but you hoped that it would be enough to make it up to Rafayel.

“Hmm..” Rafayel inspected the flowers, before he picked one up and then tucked it into the hair behind your ear. “I think this one should stay with you, it contrasts your eyes nicely.”

His smoothness somehow always threw you off guard, even after dating for a while. A small romantic gesture yet it made your heart flutter.

“Thank you for the food though, but I ate already. We had some seafood for dinner.” He said as he took the takeout bag from your hands.

“Really? You made food?”

“Why are you surprised? I can cook if I want to, besides, someone had to feed the kid since you left her all alone.” He said as he pointed to Tina.

“She wasn't all alone, she was under your care!”

Tina, who probably heard her name being called, soon ran up to you holding her masterpiece in her hand.

“Look what I made with uncle Rafayel! Do you think she will like it?”

“I know she will love it!” You said as you patted her head. Uncle Rafayel? That was a new one, she seemed to have gotten along with him quite easily.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Rafayel. You really did me a favour.” You thanked him as Tina was getting ready to leave his studio. You were quite happy because Tina looked much more open now, you wondered how he did it.

“It was no issue, really. The kid is smart, we just talked a bit and painted, I did nothing.” He said nonchalantly, though in your eyes - he did a great job. It was endearing almost, how easily he got along with her and even without much knowledge on kids, he did his best to care for her. Perhaps in the future, he would care like this for other kids as well.

[theyluvpeach]

chasing you.

you avoid him. he catches you. dealer!reader x client!chris blurb <3

He's starting to think he's the problem. Those are words Chris never thought would form in his brain—But here he is, trying to figure out why hasn't seen you all week.

It doesn't make any sense. You're always around campus, yet when he's actively looking for you, you're nowhere to be seen. Chris doesn't even want to talk to you. He just wants to give you your shit back so Matt will stop bothering him about it.

Even though he's your friend—And he was the one to even invite you to the party in the first place—He has to return your heels cause apparently, Matt has better shit to do then chase you around all day.

He's been all around campus looking for you. If you're not at the campus cafe, he's gonna launch your heels at Matt's head.

Matt is so lucky you're here.

You're in the corner at a booth with tons of books and your computer in front of you. You're not your usual neon colored self. There's no star clips in your hair. You don't have on an overly tight top. No flared jeans. You're unrecognizable.

He can see the fear settle in your eyes as he walks up to you. So, you were avoiding him.

"Chris." The tension in your voice is quite frankly, insane. That night, after leaving you in his room, all he did was talk to Matt about what to do with you and then passed out on the couch after the party was over. What could he have done in that time?

"Kid, I know you were shitfaced last week, but I can't believe you forgot all about your stuff." You blink at him multiple times. "What?"

He shoves your heels and tights that are stuffed in them to you, "Y'know? All this?"

You slowly take them, your face lighting up. "Oh... Oh!"

"Huh?" He's confused. You were all gloomy just a second ago, and now you look like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Mh....I thought we fucked, if I'm being completely honest." He watches you tuck your heels away into your bag. "This reminded me we didn't, thanks."

Chris, for once in his life, is speechless. You were avoiding him because you thought you guys fucked. Honestly, he'll take this over you being all over Aiden. He wonders if you remember that... he's not gonna bring it up.

Huh. This is probably how the girls he sleeps with feel after they wake up alone in the morning.

"Nah, I don' fuck my brothers friends." You tilt your head at him, annoyingly, and raise your eyebrow. "Michelle."

"Doesn't count."

"Brittany."

"Also doesn't count."

"Vivi—"

"You friends with all the girls I fuck or somethin'?" You laugh, loudly. Bringing attention to yourself, but you don't care. You're definitely back to your usual self. "Some of them. They're wondering why I'm hanging around Mr. Community Dick."

Chris rolls his eyes. "Matt deserves that title."

"Eh, you guys are tied." You smile at him. And he gets that feeling in his chest again. The one that makes him feel like he's dying. When you start looking at him like he's crazy makes him remember that you guys are having a conversation and process that's he's staring at you.

He awkwardly coughs. "Whatcha' got all these books for anyway?" You groan, resting your forehead on the table. "Ecology."

He blinks.

"Plants." You sit up, resting your head in your hands, "Its the study of how living organisms interact with their physical environment—"

"We get it. You're smart. Trust."

"Well—" You flush at the compliment. Maybe not pissing you off gets him places. "That's just the definition!"

He eyes the stacks of books at your table. "You got a test, or are you just a nerd?"

You scoff. "I'm not a nerd. We have a test, and since my teacher writes questions like she hasn't talked to a human being in years, I'm doing some light reading."

"Light reading?" He teases. "Whatever." He checks his phone as you roll your eyes, well shit.

He spent way more time talking to you than he thought he would. He's gonna be late to the class he promised Nate he'd go to for the first time in forever.

"Gotta go," He says, beginning to walk backward towards the exit, "Don't drink so much next time, alright, kid? Not tryna chase you around again."

"I would've remembered eventually!"

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @whore4mattsturniolo @domizzzsstuff @sosasturns @drewswife

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Mrs. R

Notes: You know what anon, great point. This is gonna be a two-parter. Not beta-read.

If you read this and you haven't seen The Pitt....Come on in, the water's fine.

Warnings: Angst; fluff; all that good stuff

Summary: For as amicable as the divorce had been, the two of you had problems. When Michael was stressed, he shut you out from the source of it, determined not to bring it home. But as hard as he tried, the strain and drain of his work hung on him. You'd wanted to be a safe space for him, but as the pressures of his job mounted, he'd never allowed you to be.

"Didn't think you'd be working today."

It's the most you've said beyond your answering the basics. He hasn't said anything beyond asking the routine questions. He'd had the good grace to school his expression when he'd asked about any medications (blood pressure, cholesterol, birth control), and you'd said no to all.

“We’re slammed. All hands on deck.”

“Yeah, I know.” You wince as he takes careful hold of your wrist, lowering himself onto the stool beside your hospital bed and getting a good look at the jagged cut stretching the length of your palm. 

"So you were replacing a lightbulb in the living room?"

"Uh-huh."

"What were you standing on?"

"...A book."

He shoots you a disbelieving look from beneath his lashes.

"...On top of another book."

A further tip of his brows, and you sigh, finally conceding, "On top of a cardboard box."

He looses a soft, almost grudging laugh as he looks back down at your hand.

"Surprised you didn't stand on the coffee table."

"It's rickety."

"But the carboard box-book combo was stable? What happened to the lightbulb?"

"I lost my balance, my grip tightened and uh...The lightbulb didn't like that."

"You hit your head on the way down?"

"No."

"Alright." He fishes into his pocket for a small flashlight, leaning in to get a closer look. You hold still as he diligently examines the wound.

"It broke pretty cleanly, I don't think there are any other bits in there. I was able to piece it back together—not to use, you know. Just to check."

He hums, giving a small nod. "Couple of stitches and then we'll get you on your way."

"Not gonna summon one of the ducklings for the demonstration?" You ask, unable to stand the relative quiet. "Dana says it's their first day."

"Hm? Oh," He shakes his head with a smile. "Far as I could tell, they were all occupied when I headed back here."

“How are they doing?”

“Well, we’ve got a fainter, a nicknamer, a high-fiver—Local anesthesia—little pinch, don’t look,” He warns, and you turn your head, wincing as the needle dips into your palm. “There we go…And uh, a kid who’s wearing a different pair of scrubs every time I see him.” 

“Fashion show?” 

“Unfortunate series of fluids.”

“Yikes.” 

“Mm.” 

You tentatively glance back down, watching him draw the needle through your palm.

“How are you doing besides that?” You press. 

“...You know.” 

But you don’t know. For as amicable as the divorce had been, the two of you had problems. When Michael was stressed, he shut you out from the source of it, determined not to bring it home. But as hard as he tried, the strain and drain of his work hung on him. You'd wanted to be a safe space for him, but as the pressures of his job mounted, he'd never allowed you to be.

You sit in quiet for a few moments, allowing him to zone in on his work as you let yourself just focus on him.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him in months, though not the first time you’ve spoken. You’ve exchanged the odd texts for holidays, birthdays. The last time you’d seen one another had been brief—hauling a box of things from your car to his car. It marked the official end to your divorce, your possessions and daily lives extricated entirely from one another (save for one of his hoodies, which you'd tucked into your closet and sworn up and down that you simply couldn't find).

But that hadn’t stopped the hurt or the ache of your loss. It hadn’t sapped the warmth, the comfort of the memories of your good days together. It hadn’t lessened what you knew about him, what you could tell from a look.  

"You need a haircut." You tease, tipping your head to get a better look at him. You just manage to see the way a smile tugs at his lips. You hesitate to add anything else, to keep him in a good mood, but you just can't help yourself.

"You're not sleeping," You accuse softly. Robby draws in a slow breath as he threads the needle through your skin again. 

"No," He admits. You wait for him to set the needle aside before you reach out, gently combing your fingers through his hair. His shoulders sag, head tipping into your hand as you gently run your nails down to the nape of his neck.

"What's goin' on, Mikey?" You murmur. His chin tips up to meet your eye, and your palm slides around to gently cup his cheek, thumb smoothing across his beard.   

“…You know what today is?” He asks.

“Adamson?”

“Yeah.”

“S’why I didn’t think you’d be in today.”

“So you stood on two books and a cardboard box to change a lightbulb today, just in case you needed to go to the ER so that you wouldn’t see me?”

“No. Purely coincidental. Besides,” You lean a little closer. “I like seeing you.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, brighter and wider than the last, and your stomach flutters with his admission:

“I like seeing you, too.”

“You two sure you’re divorced?”

The sound of Evans’ voice makes the two of you reel away from one another, your hand lifting from his cheek guiltily. She casts a mischievous smile between the two of you before nodding over her shoulder.

“We’ve got incoming—pileup on the I-79.”

“Be right there.”

Evans casts you one more cursory glance and adds, ��See me before you leave, Mrs. R,” before turning, tugging the curtain closed behind her. You try to get a good look at Robby after she calls you that, but he’s up and moving before you can.

“Let’s get you bandaged up and on your way,” Robby pats your knee before stepping around the bed. “We’ll need you to come in for a wound check in a couple of days, make sure it’s coming along nicely.”

“…Can’t be a home visit?” You venture, glancing back toward him. You don’t trust yourself to meet his eye; you still can’t believe you asked it. But you haven’t gotten a good enough look at him, and you just want to know what’s going on—really going on.

You’re not sure it’ll work. He didn’t trust you with those feelings when you were his wife—why should he trust you with them now? 

“We need it on the record.”

It’s a diplomatic answer, and you’re certain that it’s all you’ll get. You nod a bit, watching as he neatly wraps the bandage. 

“You’ve still got tylenol extra strength in the house?” He asks. 

“Mhm.” 

“Take that as needed, up to—”

“1500 milligrams a day, I know.” 

“Still gotta say it.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“There.” 

Robby looks up at you, his hands still wrapped warmly around yours. He draws his lower lip into his mouth, and for a moment, you’re certain that he’s going to say something else—but the curtain is drawn back again.

“Hey Robby, there’s a—Oh. Shit."

You close your eyes, fighting back your own curse before you turn your head, shooting the doctor a tight smile.

“Hey, Frank.” 

“Hey, Mrs. R. Am I interrupting—”

“Nope! I'm all set here. And you guys have incoming, so I should skedaddle.”

Robby lets go of your hand, scooching the stool back as you slide off of the bed, standing. 

“Nice to see you.” 

“Yeah, Frank, you, too.” You pat his shoulder with your good hand before turning to face Robby again. “I’m gonna head out.” 

“Take it easy with the hand. Rest it.”

“I will.”

“I mean it.” 

“Robby—” 

“I know you. You’ll get all cocky with the local anesthetic in your system and you’ll be in agony when it wears off. You drive yourself here?”

“Uber.”

“Good.” 

“Mhm.” You turn to the sandwich cart, eyeing the labels before fishing one out. “I’ll see you around.”

“You’re taking that, really?” 

“It’s for Earl,” You insist, taking a couple more steps back. "Get some rest, Robby."

“Yeah.” 

You let yourself get one last long look at him before you turn away, striding determinedly toward the exit. You just manage to skirt by Evans, taking advantage of the fact that she’s deep in conversation with one of the orderlies. You give the attendants at the front desk a quick wave before you pass down the rows of chairs, holding the sandwich out to Earl. His face splits with a wide grin as he takes it. 

“You’re the best, Mrs. R.”

“Take care’a yourself, Earl.”

“Hey, you, too!” 

-- 

You make it all the way into the parking lot before your phone buzzes with Robby’s message:  I can change that lightbulb when my shift ends

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; 

@missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

 ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ;  @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[reno-writes]

Icy-Hot

[Image from Love & Deepspace]

Rating: +18

Word count: 2,984

Type: Smut

Characters: Zayne x Reader [Female Reader], Caleb 

Trigger warnings/content: Jealousy, a little bit possessive, childhood friends to lovers, genitalia.

❅*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙    ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

The thrill of chasing her into the fields was something Zayne never really did as a child. Always observing from afar your joyous smile through the golden fields as your smile shines. That daisy flower print sundress that grandma made with that teal sun hat. Keeping the sun out of your young glimmering eyes.

“Zayne!” Your voice was so clear, so chipper. The sun always gives you this warm glow dancing on your skin. All he could do was sit, stare and admire. Until he saw another boy come out to call out your name. His smile made him angry. Maybe that was the first time he felt jealousy. Your cute sundress dancing as you chased the other boy named-

 “Zayne?” His fingers kept clicking away on his keyboard. Resting his scarred hands on his keyboard to glance at you through his frames.

“What is it? If I answer your question, will you let me get back to my work?” Though you have been friends since childhood; you still had that prying question that prodded his work time. Yet, everytime, he fell for your siren voice. Capturing his attention, pausing his work.

“Listen- I sprained my wrist and ankle,” you sat at his therapy chair, dangling the wrist from the grasp of the other hand. Legs crossed over at the knee, ankle clearly swollen. All he could do was sigh. You were like this all the time. No matter how many times you do this hunter job, you always get reckless. And no matter how many times you come to him with an injury, he was always expecting you to come in. Saying his name. Of course, no one else had the privilege of calling him by just his name. It was always Dr.Zayne for everyone else. He got up, a little annoyed but a little pleased that you relied on him this way. Grabbing a bottle of some icy-hot (a cream that cools on the skin, then feels hot to help ease the pain), he knelt down on a knee to apply it on that ankle.

“And I need you to listen when I tell you to be more careful,” carefully pulling the shoe off and the sock off in one pull. He could see your ankle definitely was sprained at least, if not broken. “What did you even do? Trip?” Bingo. Face turning into that cotton candy pink, he could read you like a picture book that he used to see you read as a kid. “Always clumsy. Always.”

“Hey! I couldn’t- ouch!” He intentionally applied a little pressure when he rubbed the cream into the skin. A little massage would help circulate the blood a bit. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the wad of bandages, all perfectly wrapped up. Snuggly, he bound it around the base of your foot, to the top of your ankle. “Watch it!” 

“You wouldn’t be injured if you had just listened to me like I always tell you,” as he cuts the end and clips it. Standing up onto his feet as he takes a hold of your injured wrist and starts the same process. His ice gray eyes only stared at your wrist when he subconsciously started to tighten his grip. Were your wrists this small? “Have you been eating?” Maybe it was his imagination that felt like he went through this before.

“Of course I have been since-”

“Well, hello, Zayne. Or shall I say, doctor?”

Zayne looked up and recognized the face that he knew all too well. The boy that chased you in the fields. The one that always danced with you. The one that always told you that you looked pretty. The one that took you away from his novels to play spot the i-spy books. Taking the words that Zayne said already but exclaiming it.

“Hello…Caleb. Colonel now I assume,” he could feel icicles forming in his blood. “I had heard you were back,” nearly snapped at him but he wanted to stay professional in case anyone came in and saw how he was acting. Caleb chuckled. Zayne clenched his fist. There was no way this man came back just now when things were just finally becoming great in his life. You, him and his job. 

“Well-” Caleb stated slyly, as he grabbed your uninjured wrist. Clearly trying to assert dominance despite being in Zayne’s office. “You know, she and I were just out, you know.”

“So you were the one that let her get injured. That makes more sense now.” Of course Zayne was not going to back down from Caleb. Not when he came into his office, with you injured on his couch. Caleb scoffed and clicked his tongue.

“Now that she is all bandaged up from the doctor. I am going to bring her home with me and make sure she is well taken care of. Thank you. Doctor.” Zayne raised his eyebrows. There was something off about Caleb. Granted, when Zayne and Caleb were young, there was a rivalry. Now, there was this weird aura.

“I am about to be done with my shift anyway. I can bring her home-” Zayne insisted, sensing some sort of eeriness from Caleb. As he stood in front of his desk to close his laptop, he felt a pull from Earth. Landing his ass onto his office chair.

This man had Evol. That means he-

Caleb shook his head and lifted you off the couch with ease. Casually smiling at you, then at Zayne. “Thank you for the offer. But you must have other patients. It’s unprofessional to only pay attention to someone you personally know.” As he used his dirty boots to kick open the door, there was a little tinge of flaring purple in Caleb’s eyes. “I appreciate you taking care of her. As she did fall pretty hard earlier.” He did this. Caleb definitely was the reason why you were hurt. After Caleb left, he felt all the gravity lift off of him. Nearly falling out of his chair, he had to take a moment to compose himself. He stood up, packed his laptop. Unhooking his trench coat and scarf to venture out in the cold. His smartphone buzzed to only see your name blinking on his screen.

“Zayne speaking,” he knew it was you. It was this game he liked to play to see what your reaction was going to be. There was a sigh on the other end. “I am sorry, Zayne. Caleb was being a bit of a brat. I demanded he take me home. I am almost there.” Zayne could tell you were fiddling with your fingers while being in the car with your childhood best friend. Caleb probably could hear the whole conversation, but clearly you did not care. “I can make some honey chamomile tea to make it up for you?” Your voice was as fresh and pure as the snow. Unlike that prick Caleb that-

“Hm, I was thinking about picking up some macarons. Did you want some?” Zayne was already about to walk into the dessert store to order a pack of twelve, before he heard a chuckle from you. “What?”

“You are already in the sweets store right?” You knew him too well. “I heard the bell that chimes whenever you go to that store”. You were his girl. Caleb could not catch up to Zayne’s status with the time that was lost.

“I’ll see you at your place then.”

 It was just like old times. Just you and him. The blanket on your lap as you sipped some hot tea, gently coasting it with the injured wrist. The snow was falling outside your window. It was times like these that he cherished. 

“Do you have work tomorrow?” Always asking that. Nonetheless, he savored every word and action, recording it into his brain.

“Of course I do,” your face clearly showed disappointment and you shook your head. 

“You never have time anymore. We used to hang out all the time-.”

“We used to. I am a doctor now. People need me.” “Well, I need you too, Zayne. As a friend.”

His finger clutched onto his cup of hot tea a little too hard. Those words cut deep. “You can always make an appointment-”

“That’s why I have been talking to Caleb about-” There you went, pouring salt into the wound and rubbing it in. As the cup he held shattered in his fingers. “Zayne! Are you hurt?” He could see you get up and grab a towel, wrapping it around his fingers. “Oh thank goodness the tea didn’t get on you.” Your voice was soft. Careful. Alluring. “You could have gotten hurt, doctor.” Seductive.

“Doctor? You have never called me that before.” Pulling his hand away from you, he looked at the cuts on his fingers and assessed it. If he got hurt, would you pay attention to him more than Caleb? No no. He can’t stoop as low as that colonel. He could never use Caleb’s dirty tricks to keep you around himself. Caleb would of course. That would be absurd. “I am fine.” There was a look on your face. One of concern. “What is it now? Are you okay? Does your wrist hurt?”

“This is what I mean, Zayne.” He was puzzled. He was just doing his job to make sure you were physically, mentally and emotionally okay. It was always his job. As a friend sure, but as your physician too.

“And what do you mean by that then?”

“You are always working. Why can’t it be how it used to be? Just not thinking about work all the damn time!” It hurts to see you hurt. It hurts to see you on the verge of tears. It hurts to see you apologize on the behalf of Caleb, that old friend of yours…and begrudgingly his as well. Maybe he was working too much. Every time you came in, injured or not, work felt like home again. “Sorry, forget what I just said. I am just stressed about Caleb.” There it was. His time to strike.

“Oh? What do you mean? I thought he was your friend?” Zayne says with clear curiosity as he gets up to fix another glass of tea. You sigh and plop down on the couch. “Not as a therapist. Not as a doctor. As a friend, and as someone that knows Caleb and how he is-”

“That is the thing. Something is off about him.” Pouring the hot water into his new cup, he came back around and sat next to you. “You saw it too, right?” He nods in agreement. Not just because he wanted to slightly win you over, but also he definitely noticed that stare. “I am not crazy! Thank god! I didn’t think Caleb was so possessive over me.” 

“But I get a little possessive too. Understandable when you keep getting hurt.” You shook your head, trying to convince Zayne that there was more to it.

“I swear when you do it, it's out of love and care. And it never bothers me when you do it.” He felt his heart race. The warmth of his blood flowing into his arms. “When he does it…I don’t know. Am I crazy Zayne?” He must have been so out of it, when he blinked and saw himself reflecting back in your eyes. His arm goes up and around your shoulder, bringing you close. Grasping your bandaged hand. Gently caressing the white fabric with his finger tips. Smiling. 

“So you don’t mind when I get a little possessive with you? That is a bit surprising.” Checking another thing that you mentioned into his mental notebook about you. He felt your temperature rising against his arm. He would know this with how much he has examined your body. He knew every little thing your body did. What it did. How it reacts. He turns and guides your injured hand to his face. What made him nuzzle into your palm was beyond him. Maybe it was those jealous feelings he felt before that made him like this.

“I mean…” your voice fell into a whisper. “I definitely don’t hate it.” He kissed your palm. Slowly letting go as your palm stayed in place. That hand never left contact as it slid across your shoulder, your neck line, then your other shoulder. Grasping it gently. It was like the time you smiled in that sunlight, but something else was there now. It wasn’t jealousy or admiration. It was beauty. It was love. Something he only heard of in novels. Of course he knew it existed. He just never cared to explore it.

“Then let me ask you a question,” leaning against you. He could feel you shaking in his grasp. “Do you hate it when I am this close?”

“I don’t hate it ever.” “Ever?” He faces closer. “What if I say you are the reason I have a fever right now?” You swallow, as your eyes look over his shoulder. He knew you were lying. And you knew you were lying too. “Then cure me.” Hovering his lips over your quivering ones. As he gently captures your lips with his. His arm slides back to where it once was, as he leaned over you. Your injured wrist on his chest. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears. The taste of tea lingered on his tongue. Sticky honey exchanged before he pulled away, caressing your cheek. “I think I need more. It’s not enough.” Panting as he dived in for another kiss, pinning her arm down. “Let me do everything. We can’t have your wrist injured any further.” His fingers rub small circles into your arm. “Hold onto me darling.” Releasing your arm, just to sling those arms around him. Gently grasping his hair to just release that extra tension. Unbuttoning those pants slowly, fumbling despite doing it so many times to tend your wounds near your hipline. As he kneels in between your legs. His long fingers hooking on the belt loops and pulling it off, as the panties come off with it. This was one of the few times you looked shy. You never were this shy in front of him when you needed something. Only he got to see this side. Doctor Zayne, was the only one seeing you in this state. Discarding your pants elsewhere in the room, as he yanks off his belt and unzips his dress pants. His bulge greeted the air. Slowly peeling off his pants, as he was about to take off his boxers; he looked at you. You needed him. Not how you said earlier. But it might as well mean the same thing. Zayne went down to capture your lips, this time nipping at your lips. As his own hand slipped onto the elastic band of his boxers, to slip it down his thighs. To kick it off behind him. 

“Doctor- I mean Zayne-” He craved more. He wanted more. The sinful want that fell from your wet lips made his breath get caught in his chest.

“What can I do for you darling?” His mouth breaks to fully hear your pleas. 

“I need you. Please”. His calloused fingers grasped his leaking member. Slowly pumped it before guiding it to your wet entrance. His mind was elsewhere. How he prayed he will be the first and only one to see you in this state. You are his patient. He was the one that will always be there for you. Slowly pushing into you, your face contorts into discomfort. Your nails racking down his sweating back as he grits his teeth.

“Breathe for me,” stating as if he knew exactly what he was doing. He only studied anatomy. The practice was never studied. As your breathing steadied, he pushed in inch-after-inch until he was fully inside. “It’s okay darling. Let me handle this like I always have.” Zayne’s fingers gently gripped the bed. As one hand held part of your hip, he started to slowly find its rhythm. Melodic moans filling the apartment, harmonizing with his moans. Until her phone started to buzz. 

Caleb

Zayne wanted Caleb to hear everything that he was hearing. To see every droplet of sweat trailing down your body that came from him. However, some things were kept a secret. Just like a patient and doctor. His pace went harder, more relentless without realizing as you finally gasped out.

“I’m cumming Zayne”. He was frantic for your touch. Your nails dug in as your orgasm coursed through. Zayne was not far behind, before he pulled out, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. His hand is adjusting so it’s near your hair. Tugging it oh so slightly.

“Me too darling-” his seed spewing out onto your bare stomach. His panting slowly subsided. “You finally listened to me.” A smile tugging on the corners of his lips, as he kisses your forehead. Getting up to grab a paper towel to clean up his mess he decided at that moment to put it on you. Discarding the paper towel, before grabbing the blanket you wrapped yourself up earlier to hug the both of you on the couch. You were slowly falling asleep as he tucks himself between the back of the couch and you, one arm pulling you close. 

“What about work?”

“I can call in.” “But what about the patients?”

“But you said you needed me darling” As your exhausted eyes closed, he tucks a hair sticking to your nose, behind your ear. Before picking up your phone and noticing a few missed calls from that childhood friend of yours. Unlocking it. Then merely texting a simple message.

[I am with her now. Doctor’s orders. She is in the utmost care. Talk to me anytime you need a talk (11:32pm - Doctor Zayne)]

[squidsinashirt]

U must have some amazing stories about your dad u can share! 🤩

I’ve sat on this one for a bit, sorry Anon. Wasn’t intentional but I… just didn’t know how to answer it.

I mean, I get it. He’s Jeff Tracy, right? The Jeff Tracy. I can remember being just a little kid, and going to meet him off coming home from his latest mission. All these huge crowds cheering for him, those amazing rockets, and little me thinking all this, for my dad?

The thing is, everybody has their own stories about him. It’s fascinating, because you’ll hear all these other tales that exist only thanks to other people. Colonel Casey, Captain Taylor, heck even Kip Harris knew him. All these huge figures have got larger than life tales of the incredible things Jeff Tracy did, and was, and inspired. There’s statues and plaques to him, and you can take a tour at the space centre about his missions, and there’s books and movies and documentaries…

There are five incredible machines he dreamt up, standing by to help achieve this fantastical goal of his to help the world. I suppose in a way, you get to snatch a little glimpse of who Jeff Tracy was, and what he believed in, every time one of them appears to save the day. Every time some kid points an excited finger up at Thunderbird Two or squints after a contrail that was Thunderbird One, there he is. That magic, that excitement, that kind of imposing extraordinary that he did so well.

Anyway, to get back on track. People come bounding up to us, to me, and they ask this sort of question all the time, and that’s the thing about being JEFFTRACYSSON (said in one breath at rapid pace, because that’s the way people greet you). I get the curiosity, I really do. I don’t say it with any malice intended, and it’s comforting to know he still has that kind of impact. I’m always happy to talk about him, I promise!

It’s simple to be JEFFTRACYSSON when you pull on an International Rescue uniform. It took a little practice to ease into at first, but it’s perfected now. It’s really easy to talk about how we believe in his dream, how we’ve all taken on that duty in our individual and collective ways. In the importance of iR, in what it means to us as family. Shiny uniform, perfect hair, smile and wave and save some lives 💪🏻

Please don’t read into this in the wrong way - I’m very proud to be Jeff Tracy’s son. It’s actually quite difficult to really put across how strongly I feel about the weight of that title, because it’s pretty sacred (and also a little intimidating at times). Everywhere we go, it’s “oh, you must be Jeff’s boy” or “oh, you’re a Tracy”, and that means there’s instantly an expectation to live up to, both publicly and privately. It’s a privilege, it really is, and I think it’s a kind of sacrosanct commitment that has really been at the centre of my thinking as I’ve gotten older - how to try and be the sort of man that deserves that kind of birthright.

I don’t just mean the public side of being Jeff Tracy’s son. See, behind the scenes, to me, to us as a family, he was every bit human in a very ordinary way.

He made the best Sunday pancakes.

He cheered far too loudly at swim competitions (and teenage me was perpetually mortified by it) and was every bit as encouraging and supportive as you might guess.

He told these excellent, awful dad jokes, always at just the wrong (or right, I suppose) moments that made you groan.

He used to let me drive his old truck up the drive when he came home from a long mission, playing country songs with the window rolled down.

We loved pranking Mom together by hiding in the laundry bin and jumping out like idiots.

He told the most spectacular, far fetched bedtime stories he swore were real, and my brothers and I could never get enough of them.

He was also away for months on end in space, or training, or lost in his plans and ideas and dreams, and sometimes that meant he wasn’t really here with us, even if he was.

He couldn’t do laundry for shit, and he was absolutely useless at trying to run a house with five young sons on his own, and only a military background to lean on for ideas (thanks Grandma and Scott for saving that one).

Being Jeff Tracy’s son is a little more complex than just the uniform, I guess, and because of that I don’t always recognise the Jeff Tracy in the books and the movies, the one that people are so desperate to hear more about.

I think that’s why I find answering questions like this so difficult, and why maybe my answers never land particularly well with the people who ask this. Because the expectation for them is an entire reel of grand tales that haven’t been heard yet out of me. Some heroic, unbelievable stories that reads like the plaques - and then they are always a little disappointed that it turns out all I can say is that he was a real person. Somebody who was very human and very brilliant and very flawed, and who I loved very much. Because to me, he’s my dad.

And ultimately, nobody wants to hear about that. It doesn’t fit their two dimensional, mythical image of him, or my brothers and I for that matter. Us being a fairly regular family doesn’t really inspire the kind of tales that perhaps lend themselves to be told.

(This is the biggest reason I don’t do interviews, because I’d be like you wanna hear about the time he took us on a hiking trip, got us lost in a storm and Mom nearly divorced him because she thought we’d all been eaten by coyotes? No? It’s hilarious, honestly!)

That’s alright, though. Like I said, the movies and the books are there to tell those stories, and Lee Taylor will happily yap your ear off for an hour about their exploits if you want. Dad’s legacy, in that form, is more than secure.

They’re not going to ever be able to tell you about his favourite pancake toppings though, or his favourite song to dance to in the kitchen or his favourite swear word, and there’s the real privilege in getting to be Jeff Tracy’s son. In getting to carry him forward, not just the stories.

…

…

This got a lot deeper than I intended it to go. I’ve had a beer and I rambled. Sorry Anon.

Ahem. Good question! I guess I’m just not the best person to answer it, ironically enough ;)

I guess the best that I can offer is that if you are ever in trouble and call us, just know that there was a really great human being behind the face that made it all possible, who told the worst jokes, but who cared a whole f-ing lot.

*insert generic story here about Dad and a rocket*

[simpingforbots]

Big scary grandpa – part 2

Megatron never expected him self to look though archives to refreshes his memories of the past, scaning though letters with new source of hunger for knowledge, hopping that he will get to see you again. Not that it will be hard as he knew your name and your school, so maybe he can try to convince Prime to organize another school meeting. You will be probably pleased to hear even more stories that he dug up from the “treasury of stories”. He was so deep in the history he did not hear the door open and someone walk in.

“Well this is new” it took a lot of strength just not to turn around and fire straight away, letting a quite grunt as he turned to stared down at Elita-one, who seemed to be very happy that she caught him in such tender moment. “Never took you for someone who would willingly spend their free time in archives. You are ususaly etaher by Primes side or in simulation.”

“I have my own reasons” Megatron took a step aside, letting Elita to see what he was reading. Maybe he can ask if any other social occasions were to be expected any time sooner “any word on other social gathering as of right now?”

“There is one, but it months in to the future” Elita glanced at Megatron, who quickly averted the eyes, grining to her self knowing well what was going on. Ever since that “interesting” school trip so THOUGHTFULLY organised by Karen, he seamed to be out of it a bit, spending time reading and doing his best to spend more time with terrans and Malto kids, learning how to behave aorund them in less threatening ways. "I heard that it could be the same school, even the same grade”

Irish sounding bot quickly perked up, his eyes lighting up just a bit more then they used to, his fingers twitching and his sparked warmed up a bit. Well this is nice surprise. Did school liked Prime and Elita this much to organise another gathering? He really did not care, all he cared is that you will be there and maybe, in near future, he can introduce you to other sparkling and kids, putting you under his wing even more. But for now he had to put his thoughts on the shelf as every one was called as some one reported decepticon activity. Letting a bit of grumble and angry that his ex-troops just can’t enjoy peaceful life like Breakdown did, just going out to race, he followed behind Elita-One for the debriefing.

You hated this. Ever since you had a wonderful talk with Megatron, you seamed to become the black sheep of the school, with every one deciding that just because you talked with redeemed Decepticon leader you were a decepticon supporter. Your stuff got stolen, you got pushed around, tripped and slammed in the walls and lockers, food dumped on you, the whole facade. Your parents did their best to get it fixed, but you did not wanted to trouble them. After all one of few reasons you had to change school was because you were being bullied in last school for reasons you never understood, even so kids never needed any reason to bully someone, nothing significant. You sighed heavily as your class and your rival class “B” were signed up for camping for 4 weeks and today you were leaving today. Your backpack was heavy with all the things your parents though needed – some clothes, spare once, some caned food that was for you and you only, first aid, some books about nature and what is safe to eat and to do, a new tent, sleeping back, inflatable matrass and some other stuff. You grunted as you shuffled to wards the buss, knowing that it will be best to seat next to teacher for your own safety. You begged you parents to not let you go on to this trip but they though otherwise, saying that it will give you chance to maybe try and make some friends. Groaning you set in your seat with Miss Roz, who looked like Roz from monster inc, right by you and the bus soon was driving down the road, entering the lush forest.

When the bus finally arrived to the spot, away from the city and any civilisation, the class piled out and started dividing in to groups and setting up their tents. Some kids were not as lucky as you, having to camp with other kids, though they seemd to be happy as they chose their friends and already hyped up. The laughter and chatter quickly filled the air and you started looking for a spot. You tried to be near the main camp but quickly got kicked out by another set of friends, over and over, until you were basicaly on outskirts of the camp site, alone, with no one wanting to share a tent with you, even if there were some kids who needed space. You sighed heavily, slowly setting up your tent, struggling with metal poles and securing the place, constantly looking down in to instruction, lifting the bucklet up and putting it down, over and over, wishing to your self that some kids were not so hateful and could see thing from your perspective. I mean Megatron was once a warlord, but now he completely changed, becoming soft and even initiated the conversation with you.  And it was a very nice conversation with him. You grumbled, fighting with poles, able to hear other students yapping about you being a “decepticon’s slut” or “decepticon supporter”, but you just sighed, fighting the poles. Though you did feel like someone was watching you, not from the back, not human. You lifted your head, staring in to the forest, trying to see just who it was. You stared in to the depth of greenery, still not seeing anything before shrugging and going back to building your tent.

The mission was successful, the swarm of Mandroid’s bugs were easy to deal and even gave Terrance a chance to train again, with them joking that it was something called “1st levels enemies” quickly dealing with them, leaving the “main boss” – Mandroid to him. Sadly Mandroid was a bit more sly and quickly ran away from the battle. It did upset him greatly and to calm down, after returning kids to Dorothy of course, he went for a flight, enjoying the air and space he needed to cool off, time to time looking down. This is when he spotted buss going down the road, heading deep in to the forest. Ususaly he wont pay any attention to it, yet his “greedy” desire to see you again forced him to. He followed it from above, hiding behind clouds and spying on younglings of the humans. The buss pulled in to one of the less known camping sites and kids piled out with few adults, quickly spreading around and setting up their fragile tents, with him landing a bit further away, as to not get attention and spy on the small organics from afar and behind the leaves of trees. He can see adults moving heavier equipment, clearly setting up the main area for meeting and food hall, all while kids were setting up their little tents, dividing in to small groups or two to three. All but one. He watched this one carefully, trying to see who the black sheep was. It was hard to see as this one was constantly chased away from the spots they tried to take, until they were close to where he was hiding, worrying him a but until he go t a better look at them, and a smiled crept up on to his faceplate. It was YOU. Right here, in front of him.

It took every thing in him to not just swipe you right now, this is how happy he was to see you, but he managed to control him self, hiding behind the trees, watching you struggle with the small fabric that will serve you as temporal shelter in this camp site, faling and fumbling with parts, mumbling something under your breath, time to time looking back at the other kids. He can see that you clearly wanted to bond with other kids, yet he can hear even from here what they called you, getting a bit angry at what they were saying. Not all decepticon were bad, they just had bad press, some were quite chill of they were left alone. After some time you managed to finally managed to put your tent up, heading in to it, staying inside for a bit. Seeing this, Megatron decided to head back to make an appearance so that no one will suspect anything.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Runaway

Part II - Sacrificial Lamb

Previous I Next

Summary: Hold onto the good times, for they never last. A glimpse into the first half of your life and how you came to live at the Tillman ranch. You thought Roy Tillman was your savior, until the dreaded truth comes to light, leaning heavily on Gator as you both try to navigate young adulthood.

CW: This has elements of canon storyline. Heavy content and mature themes. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Sunshine" and other pet names. Mentions of drug and alcohol use. Reader has a bad home life. Roy Tillman (a cw on his own). Depictions of domestic abuse. Reader is slapped - mentions of bruises. Fighting. Young love. Allusions to underage consensual sex (not explicit). Angst. Trauma bonding. Hurt no comfort. Let me know if I missed anything!

18+ Only! Minors DNI! Heed the warnings!

WC: 12.4K

Lehigh, North Dakota Early Spring 2007

For most kids, sixteen can be a tumultuous time in their lives to begin with but it seemed life had dealt you the losing hand at every turn.

From the moment you drew your first breath, you were doomed by the narrative. Born to drug addict parents moving from place to place or town to town, the only viable options for two people trying to avoid jail time or bad debts, simply dragging you around with them. It was a wonder the two halfwits managed to keep you alive those first few years.

They were smart enough to know they had to settle down before you started Kindergarten and ended up in the middle of Nowhere, North Dakota. They inherited a place from your grandmother who had passed away a few months prior, a single wide trailer that you got to call home for the better part of your childhood. It was a two-bedroom shack barely suitable for one person, let alone three. They grew pot out of the back bedroom, leaving you to sleep on a cot shoved into the corner of the living room.

School became your happy place, a solace from the reality of home. You flourished, despite your odds and loved to read. Books were an escape from reality. Late at night, you hid under the covers with a flashlight reading about princes and faraway kingdoms or of magic beyond your understanding. All manner of fantasy that you wished in some way could be true. You dreamt of your own adventures that would someday lead you miles away from here.

Both your parents had garnered the attention of the local authorities a month after your birthday. The county seized the property due to back taxes and your father took the fall for all the weed landing him a one-way ticket to federal prison. Somehow, they still let your mom keep custody despite her obvious involvement, coupled with the fact that the two of you had nowhere to live.

The two of you lived in and out of dumpy motels in the seedier parts of Lehigh until the day you were caught stealing from the local market where they detained you and called the Sheriff's department.

“Where’s your mom?” Roy Tillman asked with a sigh, looking down at you sitting there in the manager's office of the Piggly Wiggly. He sighed, taking the wide brimmed cowboy hat from his head, laying it on the desk beside him. The local sheriff had more than his fair share of run-ins with your family. He knew your past and your parents all too well.

You shrug instead of answering, pulling at a loose thread at the bottom of your very worn and dirty shirt. One of five you kept on rotation, the rest packed into the backpack on the floor beside you.

You hadn’t seen her in three days after she pawned off the only thing of value that you had left, a gold ring that she had given you a few years prior. It was the last straw, you knew right then and there she didn’t and would never care about you the way a mother should. She was nothing more than a junkie looking for her next fix.

He bent down to your level, fixing you with a sympathetic yet authoritative gaze that made you swallow the lump in your throat when your eyes met his as he asked you again. His presence made you feel uneasy at first, but he was taking his time to talk with you instead of speaking down to you like everyone else had.

“I d– don’t know. Haven’t seen her for a few days.” Your voice came out meek, suddenly feeling small under his domineering gaze, looking away from him.

His eyes narrowed, regarding you for a moment. “How old are you?”

“Si– Sixteen.” Your hangnail was suddenly more interesting, averting your attention as you began to pick at it as you answered.

“A pretty girl your age shouldn’t be out on her own.” He muttered more to himself than to you as he stood back up. “Well, come on now. Get up.”

You reluctantly stood, wary footsteps taking you to your resigned fate as the Sheriff walked you out. Your face was on fire from all the knowing gazes around the store. He tipped his hat to the store manager and led you to his blazer, helping you into the passenger side.

Instead of taking you to jail, to your surprise he took pity on you. For a runaway teen with nowhere else to go, he gave you an offer, an opportunity to live with a normal family and to better yourself. It seemed like a dream come true.

The Tillman's had a nice home on a large ranch with plenty of space to thrive and grow. The spare room was set up for you right next to Roy's teenage sons.

You'd seen Gator at school but coming from different sides of town, the two of you had never spoken. He was popular, played football and was far too pretty for his own good, the epitome of an all-American teenage boy. The kind of young man that parents would love to see their daughter date. Yes sir and yes ma'am were ingrained in his vocabulary. He was perfect and you absolutely hated him.

When you arrived, Roy's wife, Nadine immediately made you feel welcome, soon learning she was his second wife and not Gator's mother. She was younger than you imagined but seemed to be an old soul with her soft spoken and kind nature, advice of all manner at the ready if you asked.

It was church every Sunday and family dinners at night. It didn’t go without rules, but it was the structure and routine you so badly needed.

They gave you some new clothes, a warm, soft bed to sleep in and a roof over your head. You had your own room, a private sanctuary all to yourself. When you laid your head down on the feather pillow that night, you hoped that you wouldn't have to leave anytime soon. It was the first time in a long time you felt safe.

Gator completely ignored your presence for the first couple of days, until he couldn't. Roy had told him it was his duty to show you around the ranch and teach you various chores you would be doing, in his words, to “earn your keep.”

“You're still doing it wrong.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he crossed the stall, bootsteps heavy, grabbing the shovel roughly out of your hands. You'd grown accustomed to the frown gracing his handsome features that he most often wore around you, as if it caused him physical pain to be in your presence.

Your hands were beginning to blister, it was hot, and the barn smelled well, like a barn. It was a strong mixture of manure, hay and earth.

“You need to use more force. Here.” He demonstrates again, working across the old barnwood floor. He wore a crisp white shirt that showed off the lean muscle of his arms and shoulders as he moved, tucked into his tight-fitting Wranglers. His green cap was situated backwards, per usual, unless the sun was directly in his face. If you weren’t so annoyed you might have appreciated how good he looked, but in your current state it just infuriated you further.

He stops midway, an exhausted look replacing the frown when he hears your huff, turning his head in time to see your eyes roll, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aren't you just a ray of fuckin' sunshine.” He scoffs, moving the shovel upright resting his hands on the end.

“Think you're too good for shovelin’ horse shit? Hmm? That it?” He spat.

Your brows furrowed at his attempt at an insult, insinuating that he knew anything about your life. Rich, coming from a boy that grew up in a house where he never had to want for anything.

“No asshole, it's your bullshit I can't stand. You think you know anything about me? You don't know shit!” There was a fiery defiance in your eyes as you spoke but there was something else there. Something raw and vulnerable he couldn't quite put his finger on.

His brows furrowed at the sudden outburst; another venomous laced comment was on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it at the last second. He knew the heavy hand that ruled the ranch would tan his hide if he didn't show you how to do the rest of the chores, so he sighed and tried a different approach.

“Look, I'm tryin’ to help ya’ out. Roy he… he expects things to be done proper ‘round here. So just… can ya’ at least try?” He finally asks, with an almost pleading look. If only you'd known then, in his own way, he was already trying to warn you.

For the first time, his words seemed genuine, without the usual disdain. Warily, you narrowed your gaze but finally dropped your arms to your sides in a more relaxed, less defensive position.

“Yeah.” You nod, already reaching for the shovel to start again, this time doing it exactly as he had instructed instead of half-assing it just to spite him.

“There ya’ go, Sunshine. Gettin' the hang of it now.” He grins, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. You couldn't help the small smile that lifted the edges of your lips at the little nickname that suddenly didn't seem so condescending.

The rest of the day went much smoother. It seemed you finally had a small understanding while he showed you around the property demonstrating how to complete the other various chores that you and he would be sharing.

His thorny shell melted just a little more, as you began to warm up to him. He even cracked a couple of jokes and tried to make you laugh as the day waned. He could be crude and rough around the edges but there was something else there, a glimpse of his boyish charm in the gentle way he spoke to you.

It was quiet out as the day began to wind down. The sun was setting over the horizon while you finished brushing the horses. You had been chatting about nothing and everything as the last rays fanned out across the barn bathing you both with its warmth. When he looked at you, his hazel eyes caught the light just right, making the usual brown tones burst with greens and golds.

When you stared at him a beat too long, his lips curled with that cocky, crooked grin that made a faint blush warm your cheeks before you quickly looked away and cleared your throat. He huffed a small chuckle but didn’t say anything, keeping that genuine smile, a true rarity you would come to find out in the coming weeks around the Tillman ranch.

Each evening you all sat down to have supper together. Prayers were said before each meal while you all held hands, a family tradition you weren’t accustomed to. Roy was at the head of the table with Nadine to his left and Gator to his right, and you seated next to the aloof boy.

It was the same every time, he begrudgingly took your hand and dropped it as if your touch was searing to his skin. You weren't sure what you had done to offend him so vehemently, especially since the two of you had finally been getting along so well.

The dinner table was where the ugly truth began to seep into this painted reality a mere two weeks after you had come to live with them.

Report cards were just released and Roy asked Gator why his grades were slipping while serving himself another helping of mashed potatoes.

“I don't know, school’s hard sometimes. I—” he began but Roy quickly cut him off.

“Schools hard? That's all you have to say for yourself?” Raising his voice before his hands came down against the table making everyone jump.

“Roy,” Nadine's mild-mannered voice cut in, but he held up his hand to silence her, making her mouth snap shut.

“Dad it's—”

“Gator, school is going to be the easiest thing you ever have to do. Get your grades up. Or. Else.” He pointed a finger at him. “You have the Tillman name to uphold, and you will not make a fool of me. Understood?”

He nodded, forking at the food on his plate but that wasn't enough for the elder man.

“Is that understood?” Leaning slightly into his space with a stone-cold look to his eye.

“Yes, sir.” The younger boy replied a little more sheepishly.

You watched the entire interaction unfold while keeping your own head down, trying to stay calm, watching as Nadine's eyes bounced between the two like she was waiting for something to happen. You immediately lost your appetite, asking to be dismissed from the table a few minutes later, thankful Roy obliged without any objections.

Late that same night, you were startled awake by the sound of glass breaking followed by muffled shouting and cries. You clung to the sheets and pulled them up, covering your head. It became the startling realization you had traded one abusive home only to be stuck in another. The perfect facade that was the Tillman home began to crack, showing all the festering secrets and lies in one fell swoop.

As you lay there, a soft knock came at the door, but you didn't move, too afraid to open your eyes until his hushed voice cut through the dark as he poked his head in.

“Hey, Y/N, are you awake?” Gator whispered out soft and timid, as the shouting and cries were slowly fading out. When you say nothing, he sighs, slowly pulling it closed on creaking hinges.

“Wait!” You whisper, making him stop. “Wh—what do you want?”

He pauses, watching as you carefully lower the covers, your sleep mussed hair popping into view before your wide, frightened eyes catch his.

“Can I come in?” He asks, hand still poised on the handle. He seemed small standing there in his grey joggers and tight-fitting tee, shifting slightly on bare feet waiting for you to answer.

You nod, not seeing him as a threat but kept your guard up, giving him a puzzled sort of look as you sit up.

He takes another look back out into the hall before quietly tiptoeing in and softly shutting the door behind him, crossing the room to the edge of the bed taking a seat at the end of it. He stays silent a moment longer, as if trying to figure out what to say.

“Why'd you come here?” He finally asks, with a hint of frustration, trying to keep it no louder than a whisper.

“I didn't have a choice.” You shrug, eyes flitting down to the worn comforter. “Dads in jail, mom didn't want me. Your dad said I could stay here that I— I'd be safe.”

Recounting the small conversation Roy had with you, it was either come here or spend the rest of your teenage years in juvie or foster care. It had seemed like a no-brainer.

“Yeah… Safe.” He scoffs. “Not everythin’ is sunshine and rainbows.”

You stared at him in disbelief for a moment, tears threatening to spill over your lash line.

“You don’t think I know that?” It came out a little breathless and high pitched, a little louder than you intended, unable to hide your emotion. “I should be used to bullshit by now.”

He gulped, not expecting the sudden reaction from you, firmly holding your gaze as his lips part but nothing comes out.

You think he's about to leave, head swiveling to the door as he sighs, then looking back to you through the dim light.

“Just try to stay out o’ trouble. Keep your head down and try not to piss off the old man.” He settles on.

There was a hint of something you couldn’t quite discern in his actions and words. Was he worried about you? He oozed a sort of macho bravado but here in this room, he slowly began to show a little more of himself. A teenager, just like you, trying to find his way in the world.

“Yeah,” you agree, unsure of what else to say.

“I better go. Ya’ gonna be okay?” He mumbled quietly, with a sweet sincerity to his question, rising from the bed to take his leave.

You nod, even though you didn’t feel okay, prompting him to nod back before he shuffled back out into the hall, leaving you alone once more. All the shouting had finally stopped, leaving the faint murmuring of the TV drifting from the room down the hall. The safety you had felt was gone, leaving you to question if there was truly any good left in the world. A question a sixteen-year-old shouldn’t have to worry about.

Something else happened that night. It was the first time Gator Tillman ever let someone see him in a different light. This compassionate, caring side he kept hidden away was vastly overshadowed by this continuous need for acceptance and love from his father, bringing out the worst side of him.

He had taken note of how strong willed you were, with a fiery, no bullshit nature that immediately drew him in. These attributes were also what worried him. The ranch had never been kind to those unwilling to fall in line and do as they were told.

Maybe it was the way you looked up at him, eyes shining on the verge of tears or despite yourself, he knew you would never stay out of trouble. You were only a couple of months younger than him, but he knew all too well what happened the last time Roy had brought someone he deemed a “throwaway” home. She became his stepmother after his own mother disappeared. Roy had an affinity for the young and pliable. The mere thought disgusted him. Gator feared the worst and was hit with an unwavering need to protect you.

-

The next morning an eerie sort of quiet hung over everyone at breakfast as Nadine, sporting a new black eye, sat everything down at the table. You couldn't help but stare at the state she was in, fragile and avoiding any sort of direct eye contact. Roy and Nadine both acted as if everything was business as usual, prompting you and Gator to do the same.

As horrid as it was, it didn’t take long to get used to seeing her bruised or battered in some way or another. As mild mannered and quiet as she seemed, she had a sharp tongue and wit that Roy didn’t take kindly to. This cycle became your new normal. You didn’t want to turn a blind eye, but given your situation, you had no alternative.

Life at the ranch aside, Gator suddenly didn't make it a point to ignore you so much, even going out of his way at school for a chat here and there or eating lunch with you.

The world didn't seem so lonely anymore, until a few weeks later when it was decided you would be homeschooled.

“Homeschooled, sir?” You asked puzzled as you set your fork back down to your plate, your heart suddenly began hammering in your chest. Gator's gaze briefly caught yours trying to communicate a warning glare, which you chose to ignore.

“Yes, Y/N. Nadine can show you the basics and you can better keep up with your chores during the day. I can teach you the more advanced curriculum when I get home in the afternoons.” He said, shoving a fork full of food into his mouth as if this would be the end of the conversation.

“I make good grades. I would rather stay in school. I want to try to go to col—”

“Y/N!” His gruff voice cut you off. “As long as you're under my roof you'll abide by my rules. The women in this family are homeschooled.”

“You can't make that decision for me! You are not my father!” You suddenly burst out feeling as though the air were suddenly sucked from the room. Nadine's gaze shifted from you back to Roy as Gator held his breath. It just wasn’t in your nature to back down from something you felt so passionately about. School had ALWAYS been your outlet.

Roy remained stoic, swallowing his food and wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin before turning and giving you his full attention, eyes dark as he trained them directly on you.

“Let's get one thing straight, your parents don't give a damn about you. If it weren't for me, you'd either be in the street or worse, God forbid. You're going to start showing a little gratitude! By law, I am your legal guardian, and I decide what’s in your best interest.” He pauses, watching your reaction.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears threatening to spill at your lash line as he smirked.

“You will be homeschooled starting tomorrow and I don't want to hear another goddamn word about it! You should be thanking me, you little ungrateful brat!” He spat, picking up his fork once more, returning to his meal, uncaring if you had a retort.

“Dad,” Gator suddenly spoke up, as hot tears spilled silently down your cheeks, casting your face toward the table.

“What is it son?” He asked, without looking up at the boy.

“If Y/N wants to go to school, I can keep an eye out on her. Make sure no one bothers her.” He shrugs, trying to keep his voice even.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” He harshly smacks the back of his head with a thump that makes you jump slightly. “Eat your food. My decision is final.”

The rest of the dinner was finished in tense silence until Roy got up to retire to his study for the evening. Gator went outside to finish the rest of his chores and you helped Nadine put away the leftovers and wash the dishes as you sniffed and tried to hold back your remaining tears the entire time.

She looked at you with sympathy, but didn’t try to make conversation.

You laid in bed that night staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep as the grim truth of the situation weighed on you. There was no shouting or cries that night, just cold silence and a reality you didn't want to face.

Pulling the covers back, you silently slipped from bed and out into the hall listening for any other sounds. The TV played in Roy and Nadine's room, hopefully covering any miniscule noises from you, tiptoeing down the hall, avoiding the creaks in the floorboards you had come to memorize.

You slowly turned the handle to Gator's room and opened the door enough to squeeze in as he shot up in bed.

“What're ya’ doing in here?” He hissed, voice groggy and sleep ladened, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand as he sat up.

You came in here to thank him for speaking up earlier but suddenly you couldn't say anything, your voice caught in your throat as you began to cry.

“Shit, hey.” He rose from his bed and quickly crossed his room over to you, hesitantly placing an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of physical touch you hadn’t felt in so long, melting almost instantly into his side. He wasn’t one to show his affection, hell he could barely remember the last time someone hugged him. It must have been his momma, he thought fondly, before shoving that back down.

He led you over to the bed and sat you both down, the springs squeaking slightly in protest. He sits in silence, listening to you, unsure of what to say to bring you some sense of comfort.

“Gator?” You finally ask, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“Yeah?” His eyes trained on the side of your face, his hand itching to reach up and help wipe away your tears.

“Can I stay in here tonight?” You ask timidly, turning your head to look up at him.

“In— in my bed?” He swallows thickly, contemplating just how bad he'd get his ass beat if Roy happened to walk in here, as you nod.

You see his hesitation and the way his eyes move back toward the door.

“I'll leave before he wakes up. I just don't want to be alone tonight. Please.” The words slipped from your mouth as if you read his mind.

The way you looked up at him, all doe eyes and pouty lips, he couldn't deny you. It would be hard to ever tell you no. Even with tear-stained cheeks and a runny nose you were devastatingly pretty to him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nods quickly, standing up. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“No, please. There's enough room, I'll scoot over.” Saying as you lay down, moving over to the other side as close to the edge as possible, pulling the comforter over you.

“Yeah, ok.” He sighs, nervously sliding in beside you, laying on his back looking up toward the ceiling.

“Thank you.” You meekly spoke leaning up to give him a small kiss on the cheek, your lips leaving his skin abuzz, before turning over to face the wall.

The two of you fell silent, unsure if anything further needed to be said as your eyelids grow heavy, finding solace in his presence. He listened for a while until your breathing evened out as you drifted off to sleep.

He eventually followed, only jolted from a deep slumber when he heard Roy's fists banging on the door the next morning.

“Gator, get your ass up! Don't make me come back up here!” He yelled through the door.

His initial reaction was to look for you, but the other side of the bed was empty, he sighed. The only reminder of your presence was the lingering scent of your shampoo filing his lungs as he rolled over on the pillow you had laid on only an hour before.

-

Homeschool consisted of mainly taking care of the house, the only real curriculum you received was, as Roy had promised, with him late in the afternoons.

He wasn't kind nor patient, quickly growing frustrated with your attitude and unwillingness to comply. It's not that you didn't mind learning new skills, but this wasn't what you wanted to do. It was boring and, in your mind, useless.

It only took a few days for him to reach a boiling point.

“Y/N! Answer the damn question.” He gritted out between clenched teeth, his growing frustration mounting.

“I don't know the answer.” You shrugged, refusing to look him in the eye.

His hulking form came around the desk, grabbing your chin forcefully making you look up at him.

“Stop being so fuckin' difficult! Either fall in line, or I will make you fall in line.” His voice was strained, showing just how tired and weary he had grown of your behavior.

You stayed silent but met his gaze, determined to not back down. That very defiance would be your downfall.

It was the first time you felt the cruelty of his touch as the back of his hand met your cheek with a sharp, resounding smack. It had happened so suddenly; it left you stunned.

A searing heat flooded the side of your face, your eyes instantly welled with tears as you shot up from the chair, running from the room and out the back door. He watched, unmoving, letting you go.

You didn’t think. You just needed to run. Your bare feet carried you across the field, uncaring of how the uneven earth beneath you prodded and poked at your soles. The barn would reveal a good hiding spot, crawling into a small space concealed by hay. With your knees pulled into your chest you cried long and hard into the evening.

At some point you fell asleep, only rousing when you heard Gator yelling your name. You softly stirred, stretching your achy muscles.

“Gator?” You called out, your voice tired and scratchy.

“Y/N? Where the hell are ya’? Everybody's been lookin’ for ya’.” He replied, coming around the corner to see you wedged into your hiding spot.

“Jesus, it's fuckin’ freezin’ out here. What're you—” His heart dropped, as he shined his flashlight over in your direction taking in your disheveled appearance and the welt across your cheek.

His fists were clenched at his sides, anger bubbling up as he watched you crawl toward him, face tear streaked and puffy. He knelt down beside you, hesitantly bringing his hand up to brush the hair from your face as you closed your eyes. It was tender, careful not to aggravate the raised skin. The touch sending a shiver down your spine despite your current state.

“I shouldn't have talked back.” You murmured, barely above a whisper, as Gator's warnings from days earlier to stay out of trouble rolled to the forefront of your mind.

He nods in understanding, eyes flitting away from you, unsure of his own voice, dropping his hand back down.

“We have to get ya’ back to the house. I— Everyone's been worried sick.” He states, standing back up to shed his jacket.

He takes your hand as you stand on wobbly legs, making sure you’re steady before wrapping his coat around your shoulders. You lean on him, with his arm securely around your waist as you make the small trek back up to the house.

You're grateful the kitchen is empty when you enter.

“He got called away.” He commented as if knowing exactly what you were thinking. “Nadine left ya’ a plate in the microwave. Go sit down.” Nodding toward the table.

You sat quietly, watching as he heated your supper before setting it down and taking the seat across from you.

Gator watched as you ate a few bites and placed your fork back down.

“M’not very hungry.” You mumbled, regarding him for a moment.

Gator was an enigma. He was sweet but guarded and blindly loyal to his father in a way that made him dangerous, craving his approval so deeply that he would do anything to gain it. It left you wondering why he would help you knowing he would most likely get himself into trouble.

“Can I stay in your bed tonight?” You asked, catching him off guard.

“Hey,” he whispered, suddenly looking around the room and down the hall. “Keep that between us.” He hissed, and added “that's probably not a good idea. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” You look away, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I'm going to take a shower.”

You stood from the chair so quickly, he didn't have time to respond, watching you leave and climb the stairs before muttering to himself what an idiot he was.

He made his way to his room, passing the bathroom on the way, pausing in front of the door for a moment listening to the water run. He silently berated himself again before retiring to his bedroom.

He tried to sleep, but it eluded him, tossing and turning most of the night. Just before 11 pm he heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall, as he heard your bedroom door creak open and a few seconds later shut.

Roy was finally home.

He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as his door swung open slightly before it closed shut once more.

He waited another half hour before slipping out from the warmth and silently taking the few steps over to your door, making sure he wasn't making a sound before slowly opening it.

You were turned away, facing the window as he tiptoed further into the room, assuming you were asleep he thought about turning back around but then you whispered his name and turned over toward him.

“Hey. Still want some company?” He grinned, even if you couldn't make it out in the dark.

“Yeah.” You sighed, scooting over to make room for him. He crawled in beside you a little closer than the few days before.

You both laid on your backs, not saying anything for a few minutes. The silence was comfortable; happy to just be in the presence of someone else who understood.

“We need to get out of here.” Whispering, with your gaze set firmly to the ceiling. You hadn’t intended to say “we”, but it had slipped out so easily. Neither of you deserved the life that was being laid out before you.

“We can't.” He sighs, feeling your sudden hopelessness. “But I'll take care of you.”

He feels a little wave of confidence, his hand moving toward you. His pinky brushes yours, sending goosebumps across your flesh as you turn your head toward him.

“How?”

He turns his head at your question, meeting your eyes as his hand glides over the top of yours, resting there a moment before taking him by surprise when you suddenly turn your palm, threading your slender fingers through his. His palm was calloused but warm and comforting, his hand easily dwarfing your own.

“I'll keep you safe.” The only words he could think to say. He didn't know how to keep you from Roy entirely, but he knew he had time to think. You wouldn't turn eighteen for a while yet.

He kept the rest of those thoughts to himself. He had time.

-

After that night, you decided to stay quiet around Roy and do your lessons without any resistance. Things began to go a lot smoother around the Tillman ranch.

Weeks turned into months without another incident or hand raised against you and every night you would take turns sneaking into each other's rooms taking comfort and solace in the presence of one another.

Gator turned seventeen and was gifted a shiny new truck. He began spending less time at home but always found his way back to you at night under the cover of darkness until an idea struck him.

“It's too dangerous.” You giggled.

“And this isn't?” He laughed along with you. “If Roy walks in here and sees us under the covers, he'd skin me alive and probably burn you at the stake.”

You shake your head, burying your face in the pillow.

“Come on, just this one time and I won't say another word ‘bout it. I'll drive us down to the lake. Be back before anyone knows it.” He gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

“Gatorrrrrr.” You whine. “Don't give me that look.”

He pouts further, jutting his lower lip out.

“Okay.” You whisper, finally giving into his antics.

“Yeah?” His eyes light up at the prospect, a grin lifting the edges of his lips.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Okay!”

He gave you instructions to change and meet him outside in ten minutes before he left your room. It had luckily been a night Roy had a little too much to drink and would hopefully be out cold until morning.

You held your breath as you tiptoed down the hall, looking back only once before descending the stairs and quietly heading out the back door, feeling a rush of relief with the fresh air.

As you slowly closed the door, you felt arms wrap around your waist, a shiver traveling down your spine, as he whispered “gotcha” close to your ear, his hot breath tickling your cheek.

“Ready darlin?” He hums, still close, obviously no idea what his warm body pressed up against yours was doing to you as you turn to face him, his grip loosening.

“Yeah, let's go.” You smile, mirroring his. He slips his hand into yours as you race off the porch running the short distance to his truck, jumping in quickly before slowly rolling down the long drive without the lights on until you made it to the main highway.

Your heart was racing, looking back in the mirror as the old farmhouse grows smaller until it's finally out of sight.

He steals small glances at you when you aren't looking, admiring the non-stop smile gracing your face but he could tell you were nervous. You were far too quiet.

If only he could read your mind, it would have made this a lot easier. You weren't nervous because of sneaking out or even the chance of being caught. It was him. He made you nervous, in the best way.

You're not sure when it happened, those innocent late-night chats turning into a little bit more. Soft touches and scooting closer to one another. You sought comfort and found it in him.

“It's not far. We'll be back before no one knows we're missin’. Promise.” He states, grinning back over to you, trying to quell your nerves as his fingers fiddled with the radio before Patsy Cline’s “She's Got You” faintly played through the speakers.

“Patsy Cline?” You ask, with a quirk of your brow, expecting something, anything other than that.

“She was my momma's favorite.” He shrugged, as if mentioning her was no big deal, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

No one ever talked about Linda, even though her picture was still hung in the hallway nestled right alongside Nadine and Roy's wedding photo, it seemed like it was still a touchy subject in the Tillman household.

“She was pretty.” You said quietly. His gaze flicked quickly to you and back to the road before he left out a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, she was.” He replied solemnly, giving away the hint of nostalgia he was feeling.

You nodded, looking back out the window, thinking the conversation was over until he cleared his throat to speak up again.

“She would play Patsy when I was little, when it was just the two of us.” A fond smile played on his lips before he continued. “Sometimes we'd dance around the kitchen while she was cooking. I– I miss her.” He could picture it now, the old turntable softly filling the small kitchen with Patsy’s voice as he danced with her. His small feet on top of hers as she moved them both around the room. Her smile and laughter were infectious, making his eyes sparkle with childhood delight.

A few beats of silence passed before you finally asked, “where is she?”

“Don't know.” He shrugs again, but the pain was evident in his voice. “Figure she got tired of the way dad— uh, she just left.”

“I'm sorry, Gator.” You reply, as he scoffs slightly, making you look back up at him.

“What're you sorry for? She was a grown woman. She made her choice.” He spat out.

“I know that. I'm sorry you had to go through it.” You slowly place your hand to his forearm, your touch both electrifying and soothing to him.

“Sorry, I— shouldn't've… it's not your fault.” He sputters, feeling remorseful for the harsh tone. He thought of his mother often but never spoke of her aloud. It was a nice change to speak so freely without any repercussions. Her records were still at the house, tucked away in the bottom of his closet. Roy wouldn’t allow them to be played after she was gone.

“It's okay.” Your touch lingers momentarily as the song finally comes to an end. Pulling your hand away and settling back into the passenger seat, the moment passing between the two of you. Each passing moment you learned a little more about this boy, peeling back the layers of his complex life.

He turned down a small road off the highway, pavement giving way to gravel as it got a little bumpier.

“You come here often?” Asking, as you take in his profile, he had gotten a little taller over the spring and summer, lean muscle on display under his tight shirt.

“Sometimes. Guys on the football team bring their gir—” he clears his throat. “Uh, they have parties here.”

“They bring their girlfriends here?” Smirking at his abrupt change in phrasing.

“Uh, yeah, it— it's a nice spot to, I dunno. Relax, I guess.” He shrugs trying to downplay his own embarrassment.

“Sounds nice.” You say quietly, looking back out the window.

The gravel eventually turns into a dirt road as he slows down further to navigate the dips and ruts before a clearing comes into view up ahead. The moon is large and sparkling against the water below as he moves close to the shore.

He throws it in park, as you jump out of the truck without another thought, laughing out into the clear night.

“Hey, damnit!” He yells out. “Wait for me!”

You're already bolting across the shore, toeing your shoes off and letting the water lap at your ankles as he strides up beside you. So caught up in the sound of your laughter he can't bring himself to scold you for running off.

“It's so pretty!” You say, smiling out at the water.

“Yeah,” he whispers, staring at you instead. He takes in your features and the unadulterated bliss, as he thinks that he’s never seen you this happy since coming to the ranch. If he could do more, he would, but this is the best given your circumstances.

“We could come out here again, maybe try to sneak away once a week? I know I said I wouldn't ask again but—”

“Really?” You asked, looking up at him with excitement, but still feeling hesitant to get your hopes up. Roy rarely lets you leave the ranch, just the occasional trip with Nadine to the grocery store.

He nods, pulling a pack of smokes out of his pocket, along with a Zippo as your eyes follow his movements.

“You smoke?” Questioning with a raise of your brow toward him.

“Sometimes. Want one?” He offers, holding the pack up but you shake your head. He shrugs, taking one and placing it between his lips, lighting it with ease as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

His cheeks hollow as he inhales, the end glowing cherry red between you. He smirks when he sees you watching him so intently.

“Come on, let's go sit.” Nodding his head toward a downed tree not far behind you, as you follow reluctantly leaving the water.

You sit beside him, suddenly growing a little anxious. The sounds of water lapping at the shore and the crickets filling the silence. It felt right. This is what you should be doing, living outside of that invisible barrier that has been placed in your way.

The rules you now have to follow make it impossible to be a normal teenager. For just a little while, you could pretend you were on a date with a boy you liked. Nothing more.

Your toes dig at the soft sand below your feet, before gaining the courage to speak again.

“Gator, is this a date?”

He chokes, inhaling roughly and coughing before sputtering out a hoarse, “What?!”

“A date. When a guy likes a girl, he asks her to go out and they—” You start to explain.

“Fuck, I know what a date is. This," he gestures between you, "ain't that. I just thought ya’ wanted to get out of the house, s’all.” He huffs, extinguishing the rest of his cigarette on the roughened wood beside him.

You nod, quickly looking away, a little saddened by his curt response.

He immediately noticed your face fall, silently cursing himself for saying the first damn thing that came to mind.

“I mean, is that— did ya’ want this to be a date?” He quickly recovers.

“I don't know.” Shrugging, still looking away, the water was suddenly much more interesting, as the heat in your cheeks became too much.

He wasn't sure what to say. Did you want this to be a date? Did he?

Other guys his age went on dates and had girlfriends. He often wondered if he was the oddball ignoring the advances of his peers. None of the girls at school ever drew his attention like you did. You were just there. A friend and someone he longed to be around. Those hushed conversations late at night were what he looked forward to the most each day, when he really felt like himself.

Should he ask you on a date, even though you live together under the same roof? He knew it was fucked up but in some odd way, he felt like you were already his.

He grew too quiet, lost in his own thoughts and it felt like the silence was too deafening, so you stood up and began to pull your shirt up over your head.

“What the hell are yo–” his jaw dropped when your hand drifted to your shorts and popped the button as they slid down your bare legs. Your back was to him, standing there in nothing but your underwear. Sure, he'd seen a lot of your skin but not like this.

“Y/N! Put your damn clothes back on!” He hissed out, trying to look anywhere else.

“We're at the lake, Gator! I want to swim!” You yelled back, suddenly sprinting for the water.

“Jesus Christ!” He muttered, watching you dive headfirst into the lake and disappearing briefly before your head popped back up.

“Are you trying to give me a goddamn heart attack?” He yelled, with no real malice. His next words dying on his tongue as he watched you from the shore, the moonlight glistening over your soft skin making you appear like some ethereal creature from a storybook.

“Gator! Come swim with me!” You yelled, looking back toward him standing there on the shore.

Who was he to deny you? He toed off his sneakers and unbuttoned his pants in haste, looking down to realize he had worn his briefs instead of his boxer shorts. Shit. Heat creeped up his cheeks thinking of you seeing him in so little.

He pauses a moment, before he hears you call his name again, finally releasing a heavy sigh, he finishes unzipping his jeans and letting them pool at his feet before removing his shirt and pulling off his socks.

“Comin’ Sunshine!” He finally calls back, taking a deep breath, before diving in after you.

When he surfaces, he's met with silence. His head swivels as he turns in the water to catch a glimpse of where you might be.

“Y/N?!” He yells, already frantic as a spike of panic sets in. “Y/N?!” He shouts a little louder this time.

He suddenly hears a splash right beside him as your hands grab his shoulder and head, surprising him as you push him under the water with a loud laugh.

Once he resurfaces, he instantly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back into his chest as you let out a scream and start laughing once more.

“You're such a little shit!” He shouts, still trying to catch his breath but your laughter is too contagious to feel any real anger toward you.

“Your turn!” He shouts before you feel him start to drag you backward with him. You hold your breath, as the water closes in around you, enveloping you both in her cool embrace. His grip loosening for you to float back up.

You're both laughing, trying to catch your breaths, opening your eyes to him already looking at you with a big lopsided grin that you've come to feel he only reserves for you. The laughter quietly subsides as you continue to stare at each other.

The moon is big and bright, almost full but not quite, providing enough light to take everything in as you silently begin to drift around him, your fingertips dragging across his back, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

He freezes at the contact, making something stir deep within him. There's something in your gaze that makes him nervous, it's soft and warm. No one's ever looked at him with such kindness and admiration.

“What— what're ya doin’?” He finally asks, trying to hide the small tremble in his voice.

“Just swimming…” You giggle, moving back directly in front of him, your feet finding the lake bottom to stand in the chest deep water.

“Yeah, but why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?” His voice cracks at the end, giving away his nerves, despite trying to keep his cool.

“Like what, Gator?” You tilt your head, playing dumb, trying to let him make the first move. You'd been dreaming about your first kiss, hoping and praying it would be with him. This was the first chance you'd had actually getting him alone, free from worry or prying eyes. Was he really that clueless?

“Like— like that.” He sputters, feeling a slight mixture of annoyance and something, he couldn't quite discern.

“I don't know.” Shrugging and looking away, suddenly feeling embarrassed as doubt began to creep in.

He notices the expression that crosses your face and suddenly it clicks for him. You begin to slowly ease back into the water, about to dive back in when he softly grabs your wrist.

“Wait! Just— wait a sec.” He holds firm, pulling you a little closer to him. “I'm an idiot, okay.”

Your eyes turn back to his face. He's grinning, unable to contain it at this point but you don't say anything. His eyes flit across your face, down to your lips and back up.

“You still want this to be a date?” He asks, voice a little huskier than before. He kissed Becky Mitchell behind the bleachers last fall to see what all the fuss was about, so he knew what to do, but he was suddenly a little anxious, because he wants so badly to see what it's like with you. Would it be different? Would it feel different?

“Um… yeah, I'd like that.” You nod.

You aren't sure what to do, as he begins to crowd into your space, your heart beating wildly at the thought of what might come next. He releases your wrist to place his hand on your hip, fingers splayed across your soft skin pulling you even closer.

“Gator?” You hesitantly ask, searching his face.

“Yeah?” His grip grew a little tighter in response, his free hand timidly coming to your waist, fingertips dancing at your ribs causing a shiver to travel down your spine.

“I— I'm nervous.” You say, a little breathless.

“Don't be, s’just me.” Finally finding a hint of his feigned confidence as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, trying to hide the truth. He thought his heart might explode out of his chest at any moment, wondering if you could hear the rhythmic beat with how wildly it was thumping against his ribs.

You nod, as your words fail you, gasping, as your bodies finally brush and meet underwater, pressed chest to chest. He's warm and firm, your hands finding their way up his body to wrap your arms around his neck.

It's like time stops, the world ceases to exist around you as he closes the distance, and his lips finally meet yours. They were soft but a little chapped, not that you gave it much thought because you were trying to keep your nerves at bay.

It's a soft peck, then another. It's a little messy at first, timid and unknowing but then he tilts his head slightly, lifting his hand to cradle your jaw as his lips glide against yours. You let him take the lead, unsure of yourself but the feeling of him against you makes your head feel dizzy, closing your eyes against the onslaught of sensations running rampant.

His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, begging for entry. A small, involuntary noise emanates from the back of your throat as they part for him.

You try to pull him a little closer, as he does the same, his tongue darting out, and then a little further licking into your mouth meeting yours in a messy crescendo. He tastes of nicotine and something faintly sweet and what you could only describe as inherently Gator. A low groan passes his lips as you swallow and savor the sound.

Your lungs are on fire, aching and pleading for you to come up for air but you don't want the moment to end. For the first time in your life, you feel alive. Your body is electrified, senses on high alert, as your tummy does somersaults.

A few more seconds and he's the one to finally break, pulling away, breath heaving as he lowers his forehead to yours. Your eyes open to his, the hazel irises barely a faint ring around his dark pupils. The waves softly move around you, finally reminding you where the two of you still are, his body pressed firmly to yours and you're suddenly all too aware how exposed you feel.

Shyness creeps slowly back under your skin and you want to crawl away, duck back into the water so he can't see you.

You grin, pulling out of his reach to dive back in, leaving him there gawking back at the ripples you’ve left behind with a groan. He's very aware of the effect you have on him and his body as he tries to discreetly readjust himself.

He begrudgingly makes his way back to the shoreline so he can get dressed. It was getting late, and you needed to get back home before the sun came up.

He slides his jeans on, eyes still watching you move through the water.

“Come on! We gotta get home!” He calls out.

Sighing, you finally start to remove yourself from the water, not yet ready for the night to end but it was inevitable.

He turns away as your body is slowly revealed, feeling like he should show you some sort of privacy. He throws his shirt back on and walks back to the truck to wait on you.

A few minutes later, the passenger door swings open as you get in with sopping wet hair and clothes sticking to your still damp skin, but he thinks you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

It was a quiet ride back, neither of you quite knowing what to say. He cuts the lights and slows down as he pulls back into the drive, just as you had left, parking a little further away so the roar of the engine wouldn’t wake anyone.

You both silently exit the truck, making your way up to the house. Once you enter, the air is still, no sounds of people yet stirring as you breathe a small sigh of relief.

He's right behind you, tiptoeing up the stairs, and then down the hall, a warm hand to the small of your back as he reluctantly stops at your bedroom door.

You don't turn around, hand poised on the handle as he leans in, whispering in your ear. “I hope you had fun. Goodnight, Sunshine.” With a hum, he presses a small parting kiss to your temple before you open the door and slip in. You hear his own door open and softly close a few moments later.

You exchange your wet clothes for a soft nightgown, laying back on the feather pillow as the kiss you’d shared plays over and over again in your head. There was a permanent smile etched across your face, making your cheeks faintly hurt from overuse. A warmth was blooming deep inside your chest. You’d had your fair share of crushes, but there was no doubt in your mind this must be what it felt like to be falling in love.

-

A few weeks passed, along with a few more stolen kisses and sneaking out at midnight.

At home, you didn’t spend much time together, trying to avoid suspicion from either Roy or Nadine.

The days were filled with summer chores and nights spent hidden away in each other's beds. You enjoyed kissing him, you were happy but sometimes there was a need for more; a longing and desire you couldn’t quite satiate.

He was currently situated beside you, upper body pressed into yours as his weight pushed you further into his mattress. Your lips languidly moved against his, before his mouth began to drift across your jaw and down your neck. The ache pooling deep in your lower belly was reaching a fever pitch.

“Gator?” You ask, timidly, with your eyes still firmly shut, relishing his soft kisses across your skin.

“Hmm? Yeah?” He asks, pulling back to study your face.

“I… feel like I need more.” You blurt out, covering your face with your hands.

He groans, knowing where this conversation was headed, lifting himself off you and laying back against his pillow as you turn to your side. With a heavy sigh he replies, “We can’t.” Keeping his eyes fixed firmly toward the ceiling.

“Why not? I– I want you to be my first.” You quietly admit.

“Christ.” He mutters, raking a hand down his face, trying to choose his words carefully. He couldn’t deny his own need but this was new territory for the both of you.

“Is that— what ya’ want? Ya’ want me to—?” He can barely get his question out without stumbling over his words as he reluctantly meets your gaze. He knows you shouldn't. If Roy ever found out, he'd probably kill the both of you but he didn’t want to think about the consequences. Not when you were looking at him with your big sparkling eyes, like he’d hung the goddamn moon.

“Yes.” You breathe out softly.

“Okay,” he replies, swallowing the lump in his throat, coaxing you to lay your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you. “We can’t here, but I promise I'll think of somethin’.”

He made good on that promise a few nights later, a sweet boy trying to show a girl just how much he means to her, the only way he knew how.

Whatever happened in the barn that hot August night was between you, him and the Moon. She would forever keep your secrets safely hidden away.

-

Bliss. It was the only way to describe the high you'd been riding. Sneaking out of the house was still a regular occurrence, except most of the time you spent fogging up the inside of his truck. You both dove headfirst with reckless abandon and had little regard or worry about the consequences.

He wished to take you out on a real date, to hold your hand while watching a movie or sharing a milkshake at the diner. You both knew it would remain just that, a wish. It was too risky. Everyone knew Gator and word would surely get back to Roy so you kept your secret to yourselves to enjoy it for as long as you could.

Labels were never put on this thing between you. He never called you his girlfriend and you never saw any reason to call him your boyfriend. When you were alone, you were simply his and he was yours. Neither of you ever brought up the future, simply living in the moment and giving into your impulses as you saw fit.

Summer faded into Autumn, bringing with her the bright, crisp colors of fire and embers. Gator went back to school and you went back to your at-home studies.

The days became shorter as the weather began to grow colder heading quickly into the winter months. You spent less time outdoors, getting your chores done as quickly as possible, opting to stay in the warmth of the house as much as possible. This is when you began to notice a shift in Nadine.

She had grown a lot more quiet than usual, drawn in on herself. The usually bright and cheery nature she outwardly portrayed was no longer there, though you couldn’t blame her. The frequent abuse had never gone unnoticed, you’d only assumed he had finally broken her spirit. You’d never fully understood why she stayed with a man like Roy Tillman until it was far too late.

Roy, on the other hand, seemed to be in good spirits. There were less outbursts around the house with you and Gator managing to stay on his good side. They say hindsight is 20/20 and looking back now, it should have been clear.

She’d hugged you after supper one afternoon, something not uncommon but the way she held you tighter, letting the embrace linger for just a little longer than usual caught you a little off guard.

“You’ll be good and stay out of trouble, yeah?” She’d whispered, her voice timid.

“Of course.” You replied, squeezing her back.

“Good.” She pulled away, with an almost remorseful look in her eye. “You’re a good girl. I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow at her apology but before you could ask what she meant by it, she dropped her hold on you and left the room.

You snuck out that night for your midnight rendezvous with a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you it was a bad idea that you ultimately chose to ignore.

The engine hummed as you walked over, forcing a smile to hide the trepidation you were feeling. He had gone out ahead of you to warm up the cab.

The door opened to reveal him waiting in the driver's seat, hands cupped around his mouth, blowing on them for added warmth. He wore his thick Carharrt jacket with a black beanie covering his head. He lowered his hands to smile up at you when his eyes found yours.

“Hey Sunshine.” He greets you sweetly, as you softly reply with “hey.” Your voice came out a little more melancholy than you intended, hoping he hadn’t noticed as you climbed in, softly shutting the door behind you.

“Here.” Extending his hand toward you holding out a matching beanie. “Didn’t know if you had one. It’s gonna get hard to do the chores in the mornin’ without one. Ya’ can keep it.”

You couldn’t help the genuine smile that lifted the edges of your lips at the thoughtfulness, while he beams at you. In all honesty, it wasn’t something that you had thought to ask Nadine or Roy for.

Your fingers brush his as you take it from him before haphazardly throwing it over your head.

“Cute.” He remarks with a sideways grin. “Now, get that ass over here and warm me up.”

You giggle, moving a folded quilt he had brought along and scooting across the bench seat. When you got close, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you the rest of the way into his side. His lips leave a warm, lingering kiss to your cheek before asking if you were ready to go.

He drove with no particular destination in mind as the truck sped down deserted highways and backroads, happy to be here with you more than anything. His hand fiddles with the radio a time or two, quickly finding its place back on your thigh, as you lace your fingers with his.

You never mentioned the feeling you had or the odd way Nadine had acted, thinking it was better to keep it to yourself instead of souring the mood.

His truck comes to a stop on the lakeshore. The very spot he’d brought you countless times before. You sat there on the tailgate, pressed together with the quilt draped around both of you in comfortable silence as you held hands. The radio played softly in the background as the gentle lapping waves kissed the shore.

You move to rest your head against his shoulder with a sigh, looking out across dark water. There was no moon, no one to keep your secrets tonight.

“We won’t be able to stand the cold much longer. Hell it’ll be snowin’ in a few weeks.” He finally remarks.

“That’ll make it harder to sneak out. Won’t be able to hide our tracks.” You add, feeling a little saddened by the thought.

“Mhm. Didn’t think about that.” He hums, bringing his lips to your temple for a chaste kiss. “Guess we’ll make due in our rooms. You’ll have t’keep the noises down.”

“Gator!” You scoff, head shooting up, sending him a glare that makes him bark a laugh.

“I know. I know.” He holds a hand up in mock defence, with a grin. “Thought I’d try, anyhow.”

You shake your head, smiling back, despite yourself.

“You’re doing well at quarterback? Me and Nadine always listen to the games on her little radio.” Changing the subject before he could get any other bright ideas.

“Oh yeah, Anderson went down for a couple of weeks, and I showed em’ what I could do. Coach is going to start me next fall for senior year.” He suddenly glowed at the prospect, on his way with a full ride scholarship once he graduated.

“That’s amazing!” You praised, truly proud of him.

He lit up and began telling you a story as you watched him, everything else fading away. The slight crinkle at his eyes as his laughter carried through the clear, bright night. The warmth in the smile that he only ever reserved for you. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person on earth when he looked at you with his undivided attention. You suddenly wished so desperately you could stop time at this very moment and live here forever.

The conversation drifted for a little longer into the night until your cheeks and noses were rosy and numb. A few more laughs and stolen kisses before you reluctantly had to head back to the ranch.

He helped you back into the truck, shutting the door and rounding the front with a jog, eager for a little heat.

You were still wrapped up in the blanket looking back at him with an all too dulcet smile as he quickly hopped in and turned the ignition, hoping like hell it would warm quickly.

“Hey, Sunshine.” He says, holding your gaze, as he lifts his hands to brush some hair from your face. “Anyone ever tell ya’ that ya’ got the prettiest smile around?”

You shake your head, in reply. The smile at your lips only grows with his compliment.

“Well, ya’ do. You’re real pretty.” He turns more toward you, starting to lean in, his hand dropping to the side of your neck, warm and calloused against your cool skin.

His nose nudges yours, as slightly wind chapped lips meet yours. You melt into the kiss with a soft sigh, parting your lips for your tongues to tangle rhythmically. There was an underlying urgency as he tilted his head, his free hand slipping to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

You poured every once of what you felt for him into that kiss, hoping through actions you could convey what mere words never could.

Gator Tillman was your first love.

Though no “I love yous” were ever said aloud, you felt it in each and every moment you shared. In reality, it was a love that was never meant to last. This night would forever be ingrained as the turning point, doomed by the narrative that was laid out before you but you were both too naive to see it.

He hesitantly pulls away, resting his forehead to yours, eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. He had to get you home but wanted to keep you to himself. When you think back to Gator, these are the quiet moments that pull to the forefront of your mind. The moments you tried to carry with you in your darkest days.

He smirks and pecks your lips one last time before reluctantly pulling away completely, sitting back in the seat.

“Damn.” He mutters. “I wish we had more time.”

“Me too.” You softly reply, taking up your usual spot right in beside him, not a hint of daylight between you as he shifts the truck into gear taking your leave.

It was a quiet, comfortable ride back until the house finally came back into view.

Your stomach dropped, like all the air had been sucked from the space you shared. All the lights were on and numerous deputies were parked outside. Something was terribly wrong.

Gator turned into the driveway, heart in his throat, trying to stay calm for your sake but in all honesty was scared shitless.

“Hey,” his hand resting on your thigh gave you a gentle squeeze. “It's okay, just follow my lead. Whatever it is, whatever happens, I'm right here.”

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from outside the window. Your insides were twisted, feeling like tonight's supper was going to come back up at any moment as you placed your hand on top of his, clinging onto him with an almost bruising force. You wanted to believe him but you were both truly powerless against a much bigger force.

Roy, standing on the porch, turned to see the truck. His stare was cold and indifferent, but his jaw was set. He began to walk over as Gator put the truck in park.

“Just stay in here.” He ordered, hand on the door handle, eyes pleading for you to listen to him.

“Gator,” you whimper, tears suddenly springing to your eyes. You were scared. There was no way either of you would walk away from this unscathed.

He sent you a half smile before leaving you alone in the cab with your heart hammering in your chest. You tried to take a few big, calming breaths to ease the anxiety that was coursing through your veins.

Roy's steps were heavy and calculated, reaching Gator in a matter of seconds before grabbing him by the collar pushing him harshly up against the door of the truck. You gasped out, covering your mouth.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He hissed between gritted teeth.

“We ju— just went for a drive. S’all dad. I asked her to.” His voice came out sure and steady. A scenario he'd thought about a million times, never believing it would come to fruition but he was living his worst nightmare.

“A drive? You expect me to believe that?” His grip grew a little tighter, pushing him again.

“S’the truth. I swear. You didn't have to get the whole department involved. We just went to the lake.” Shrugging nonchalantly, holding onto his lie for dear life, hoping for once he was believable.

You held your breath watching the whole thing unfold, the tension between the two only growing with each passing second.

“They ain't here for you, idiot! Nadine's gone!” He hisses.

Gator's eyes went wide with the sudden revelation.

“And then I find you sneaking out with Y/N after I told you to stay away from her?! Can't you listen to a goddamn thing I tell you?!” His voice bellowed out, sending a chill down your spine.

You looked on with horror as he held Gator by the collar with one hand, quickly raising the other, as the back of it connected with the side of his face.

“No!” You wailed, watching him slump forward as Roy then punched him in the abdomen, letting his knees hit the hard ground below. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you stood by and let this happen without trying to help him.

You immediately flew into action, jumping out of the truck and running around to the other side, throwing yourself in front of him as he lay on the ground, groaning and gasping for a breath.

“Leave him alone!” You screamed, facing Roy head on with fury in your eyes before you felt the sudden sting of his palm meeting your cheek, knocking you dazed for a moment as you fell into the rough gravel below.

“You're an ungrateful little whore!” He yelled, taking a step toward you, but Gator had somehow managed to get to his feet, tackling the older man to the ground.

“Don't you fuckin' touch her!” He yelled, his fists coming down anywhere he could land a punch.

You cradled your jaw, trying to sit up, still dazed and helpless to the scene playing out before you.

Blow after blow pelted down on Roy until one of the ranch hands and a deputy were able to finally drag Gator off of him, kicking and screaming, leading him away and toward the back of the house. He was yelling out your name when Roy slowly got up and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground turning his attention back to you.

His eyes bore into yours, staggering a step before righting himself and coming toward you like a raging bull.

You weren't quick enough to back away as he grabbed your arm with a bruising grip, pulling you to stand. Tears were free falling down your cheeks as he began to drag you to the house.

“No! Let me go!” You shrieked up at him, trying to wrench out of his grasp but he quickly turned, grabbing your other arm getting directly in your face.

“If you don't goddamn behave, I'm only going to make it worse for him.” He sneered. “You hear me?”

The implications of his words were crystal clear. Roy was capable of anything. No, God no. Please don’t let anything happen to him. When you didn't say anything, his grip on your arms only tightened as he shook you.

“Do you hear me?!”

“Yes, s—sir.” You sputter, bowing your head in defeat.

Without another word, he led you into the house and up to your room, shoving you in, causing you to trip and fall onto the unforgiving hardwood floor. You wince as your knees hit, bruising upon impact.

The door was quickly shut, with the unmistakable sound of him locking it from the outside could be heard echoing across the room.

You sat on the floor, leaned up against the bed, praying to whoever might listen. Please God, don't let Roy kill him.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Was This Vacation a Mistake? ~Crazy Rich Asians( Astrid x black! fem! reader)~Part 4

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Summary: Finally back home, you resume your life as a professor but find yourself still thinking about Astrid and the events of the vacation. Lucky for you, someone comes to spare you of any grief you still had.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List(I added folks were commented and enjoyed) : @madeleinecamilanightwood16, @ladydragonpurplefire,

Author's Note: Here's part 4 guys. Sorry this has taken so long. I'm going to try and end this fic this year within the next three chapters. Thank you for reading as always. And if you wanna be added or removed from tag List, let me know.

Classes finally started back, normalcy followed and that was all I could hope for. Everything that happened in Singapore is still there, how can I even try to forget it that fast? Rachel promised to speak about it whenever yet she had her own issues to deal with.

Apparently, she called it off with Nick after the debacle in his homeland; the entire situation has had me torn. I'm sure they'll talk it out, or take a long enough break to figure something out. Or maybe it was my fault, I shouldn't have even gone on the trip in the first place and Rachel would have been engaged right now. Nick's family would love her and not turning up their nose at me, her random Black friend.

I know, I shouldn't think like that. Rachel will nag me about it if she saw me here in my office frowning down at a student's paper. My red pink has marked it enough, perhaps a break is in order.

A soft knock rapped at my door. A student perhaps, Rachel would have texted or called if she needed something.

"Come in," I said, eyes still steady on the page.

A clack of heels and the clack of the door shut follows.

"What can I help you with?"

My pulse quickened at who's in my office now. From the heels I suspected an international student and their fancy abundance but here Astrid was dressed in a low cut white top, black blazer and high rise jeans. Her hair was pulled up and her shades sat on her head.

"I had to see you," she said, smiling softly. "How have you been, darling?"

I stood up, put away the paper I was grading and rushed toward her.

Astrid met me halfway, embracing me gently like I was made of glass, like she did when she first hugged me at her house a few weeks prior. It got firmer once she caressed my back, resting her chin down on my shoulder.

"Everything OK?" she whispered. "Nick's been worried."

"No, he shouldn't be," you groaned. "He should focus on himself, did he send you all the way here? W-What about Cassian?"

Astrid frowned. "Did I come at the wrong time? Cassian has the best nannies looking after him, and I wasn't going to be here long. Was my coming here not what you expected, wanted even?"

I caught the twinge of sadden edging in her voice.

"Y-Yeah, it's unexpected but it's not that I wouldn't want it," I tried explaining through burning cheeks. "You being here is great. I think it'll help."

Astrid stepped back, studying me and my office around us. Everywhere her eyes swept caught me with enough self consciousness to scold myself to clean a bit more around here, take some books back to my apartment sometime during another holiday.

"Your office is quaint, reminds me of you," Astrid said, stepping over to a stack of books I had on the cover of my desk that's stuffed with loose papers. "I bet you've read these dozens of times over, dissected them to bits for classes, yeah?"

I just nodded as our eyes met again.

"Yeah, mostly during undergrad and downtime between semesters now," I said. "I usually just read what the board signs off for my classes and short stories for my kids to tear into during discussions. Rachel and I had a little book club during our mfa time here ages ago."

Astrid chuckled. "Ages?"

"Seven years, give or take, ages to me considering where we are now."

"And where are you both right now, y/n?" Astrid said, crossing her arms.

"We're fine," I said a little too quickly. "Rachel just needs her time, and I-I don't want to mess up things more."

"She'd like to know how you're doing."

"Why? Did she beg you to come here?"

"Of course not. Y/N, are you truly all right?"

I bit my lip; that's a simple but loaded question. Astrid's concentration on me wasn't helping with me being entirely truthful either.

"Not really, no," I admitted.

"I'm so sorry, darling," Astrid said. "Do you have plans or classes for the rest of the day?"

"Well, I have another half hour of office hours."

"Have they really be in and out of here as of late, dear?"

Astrid stepped back over to the door, peeking from under my blinds for some sort of added measure.

"Ok, I guess my office hours are over today," I said, returning to my desk to push the paper I was grading back into my folder. "The rest of my schedule is clear. Did you have something in mind, Astrid?"

"Let me get your mind off of things, let me take you out?"

My face flushed at her words; she doesn't mean what I think she means, right?

"A-Are you asking me out, Astrid?"

"I don't know, if I say yes will that convince you?"

....

Is this a date or not? I didn't ask, yet the feelings were still there--deep in my stomach, my hands barely worked once we got to the restaurant--a chain not too far from campus.

Astrid even pulled the chair out for me, an act of common courtesy right? Rachel's not here and I can still detect her incredulous stare, hopelessly shaking her head--she'd believe it to be more. Should I text her? No, she needs space, I need to focus on this myself.

"Have you decided?" Astrid said, peeking over her menu. "Or do you need more time?"

"No, I'll have the grilled chicken club sandwich with a side of Mac and cheese."

Astrid nodded. "Great, I'll have the salmon and potatoes."

The waitress returned, took our menus and orders, and deposited our drinks at our sides.

Alone now, our eyes keep meeting and I need to try and not make it as awkward as it already is.

"So, do you usually do chain restaurants when you visit the states? Do you visit the states often?"

"Sometimes I visit when Nick is here and he's with Rachel," Astrid explained. "Not often but they have character to them. Not a lot of them have good options but their fries are a guilty pleasure of mine."

I giggled. "Really? Why didn't you order any?"

Astrid shrugged. "I wanted to try something different. Do you prefer chain restaurants? Or do you like something more lower scale? Higher scale, maybe?"

Her eyes swept to me once she said higher scale, smiling to spread the beauty mark on her face magnificently.

"Oh, I'm much more lower scale," I chuckled. "Still a struggling college student at heart but I'm not cheap as I used to be--I'm not cheap at all but--"

"Darling, I get it," Astrid said, laying a hand over my own. "Although, I hope I can give you a taste of that higher scale."

I wanted to draw back, not voluntarily but a knee jerk reaction; she's saying those things again and it's making me feel amazing. I know she means them but I'm not sure why I feel like she doesn't. Astrid's not like those ignorant people back in Singapore, not like the family who ridiculed you and Rachel. I don't even know if she likes women in that way, perhaps she is and I'm overthinking all of it. Maybe I should have contacted Rachel.

"Y/N? Are you all right?"

I decided to be honest and said, "No, not really. But I don't want it to ruin the night, or our time. We don't have to discuss it anymore, at least not right now."

Astrid started for a moment, thinking before nodding. "Of course, darling."

The waitress soon returned with our food, placing it in front of us before retreating to another table swiftly. My sandwich looked fine, Mac and cheese too but the taste wasn't terrible--not good, mediocre, nothing on Kraft or even what they fed us during grade school.

Astrid must have noticed my displeasure, frowning behind her bite of salmon. "Do you not like it?"

"It's not that good, but I'll manage."

"Do you want to replace it? I can tell the waitress."

I flushed, inching into my seat subconsciously, holding my fork tight. "Astrid, it's all right. I can just eat it."

"Why? I want this to be a great experience with amazing food," Astrid explained. "You deserve it, so why can't you let me do this for you?"

Do I really deserve it? I have been feeling shitty since the vacation in Singapore, since Rachel and Nick's supposed split and since--since I couldn't get over being singled out for something I can't control and shouldn't feel ashamed of being: Black. Black American for that matter.

And here Astrid is being so caring and genuine, willing to spend time and money on me; she does feel more for me more than Rachel or Nick's friend--I'm not entirely sure if it's romantic but there's something more here. I hope I'm not reading this wrong.

"Y/N? Whatever you decide, I'll do it for you," Astrid declared.

"Sure, you can order us some fries. Is it all right if we share?"

Astrid smiled; I could have sworn I saw a hint of red peak through her face.

. . .

After some amazing fries and some superb ice cream (thanks to some convincing from Astrid, flashing another smile and heavy eye contact).

She's even more convincing when we're sharing an Uber, laughing lowly at a joke I told. It wasn't that funny, well at least when Rachel's heard it but she's heard it a thousand times; something minuscule about an old job I had, something dry, something existential. Astrid's laugh though, how close she is and the contact--arms brushing mine due to how smaller the car is or for the fact that she's nudging me--or how she pays attention. I can't look at her without smiling which leads to more of the attention.

"You have a wonderful smile, has anyone ever told you that?" Astrid admitted. We finally got back to my apartment, still talking.

I invited her in without thinking, holding her hand so she doesn't trip over the hitch in the last step going up my floor.

"I think my mom told me before? Lots of times, maybe an ex boyfriend, maybe?"

Astrid scoffed, nudging me gently with her elbow. "I'm serious. Every time I see you, there's something new. Something that amazes me."

I pushed the door open, locking it fast as we both rush inside.

"Are you sure you're serious," I said, leaning against the door. My heart is pumping fast, hyper-like all in my ears. "What's with these things you've been saying?"

Astrid tilted her head. "Y/N."

"You have a child! You divorced someone--you're loaded and gorgeous, and I-I'm--"

"You're a beautiful woman I'm having a great time with," Astrid said, finishing my sentence before the words could come out. "Is my being a divorcee an issue?"

She asked the question with an air of humor and walked away from me, finally giving me a chance to breathe from her intoxication. At my bookcase by the wall that sat ways from the threshold to the kitchen, Astrid's attention swept over it, placing a finger up to the spines of the concealed books.

"No, of course not. I-I that's not an issue. Astrid, I-I-"

Everything's hot, burning, my face especially and I can't speak anymore.

"Darling," Astrid's in my presence again, worried.

"Is it OK if we talk more? If I can ask you more things?"

She nodded and I led her to my tiny sofa across from the bookcase, plopping down on it together; our eyes met yet again.

"Ask me anything, darling," she said. "Anything."

"Well, being divorced doesn't matter," I explained. "I just wanted to ask if you, um."

Sexuality is her business, anyone's personal business that they can choose to tell or keep to themselves. Yet she's here asking me and granting me the chance to get to know her better; I can show her a piece of me that I've only shown to the people closest to me.

"Tonight you were very touchy, encouraging and just overall flirty tonight and I--"

Astrid took my hand, slid so close that our thighs now touched. "And?"

It's obvious. So obvious or I'm just idiotic; Rachel would slap me over the head if she could.

"I-I'm bisexual, my liking includes guys, women, gender nonconforming people and everyone in between and around that umbrella," I explained. My hands couldn't stay still, Astrid saw, tightening her grip and rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. "And I-I'm into you Astrid--it seems like you're into me so, do you like women too or not?"

Astrid giggled. "Darling, I've been flirting with you since Nick and Rachel brought you home. I can tell this is a deep issue to you, so yes. I've married a man before, had boyfriends but I fancy women too. Dated a few in university but--that's not important right now. Y/N I'm mad about you too."

I'm giggling now too. It's an organic head-high, almost doubled over with stomach cramping and mouth hurting. Astrid followed in, hands high now: at my arms then shoulders and to my face; I wonder if she can feel the heat radiating from it and noticed how my laughter stopped.

It just happened. I didn't speak, neither did Astrid. Our lips met.

[caitvi1room]

echoes of soulmates

This is a story based off of arcane , it is based on the two characters vi and Caitlyn , shares the two sides of their storys and the beginning of their romance , it is a high school au , it's about the two lovers who start off as friends and may have some rough patches and might end up together, yet still in the arcane universe. a slow burn story about caitlyn and vi.

TW 𖤗 - sh and suicidal thoughts will be included in a chapter but the chapter will have the warning on it. It also will have some internal homohobia / figuring out sexuality involded in it.

CHAPTER'S | chapter 1

chapter 2 - struggles of the new life

chapter 3

chapter 4

SOULMATES GLANCE

Violet was a Zuan girl, there wasn't much to do in Zaun. but vi would try her best to find stuff to do with her little sister powder and her best friends Mylo and claggor. so she would always find little hidden places in Zuan that were actually beautiful , compared to the rest of Zuan that was just dark and shady. She would do anything for them, even sacrifice herself for them, they were the only people she had except for Vander who was her adoptive father.

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who was also powders, Mylo's and claggor's. Because her and powder's parents died, killed by enforcers. leaving Vander to take care of them but honestly, he was doing a amazing job he was helping them with school, although Vander had pulled strings in topside to get violet into a nice high school, since she was into learning. She loved reading books and learning, its what she did other than hit a punching bag and protect her sister and "siblings". she was a tough Zuanite, even being 15 she looked way older than she was, because she had to mature faster than people in Piltover did who had love and didn't need to fight and steal to live vi knew she wasn't going to fit in I mean she was a Zuanite for christ sake.

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Caitlyn Kiramman, Cassandra and Tobias daughter, was the rich girl of Piltover, growing up privileged and healthy, who lives in a manor, she was an only child so she had more time with her parents even though her and her mother never really got along well. Caitlyn was more of a daddy's girl, matching outfits and he even got her a charm for her gun that she used for sharpshooting, but it was a matching charm because he had a pin on his bag that matched it. but caitlyn and her mother, they argued more. they didn't see eye to eye, Caitlyn always though it was because she didn't meet up to her mothers standers.

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She thought part of it was because she mightve been gay since she never really had feelings for the boyfriends she had , she wouldn't marry a wealthy man she would actually having feelings for , live in the manor , have a kid and grow old with him. She always had doubts like that because she had a reputation to hold up , why would a councilors daughter marry a woman? , if she married a man she wouldn't have feelings for him. She probably would just disappoint her mother even more. But Caitlyn went to one of the nicest high schools in Piltover, she was a sophomore in high school.

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she fit in pretty well because she was one of the rich girls who had many friend's and even some love interest , she was the typical girl to have a boyfriend I mean she was gorgeous, well people to think she had a boyfriend.

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today was violets first day in piltover that didn't involve stealing she was starting the high school there. Even though vi was pretty smart she had a lot of doubts like, will I fit in? , will I get bullied "well if I get bullied I'll just fight them!", she was just mostly annoyed thought because she had to be stuck in a few room's with rich bitch Pilties. As she arrived to the building the guidance counselor had greeted her and welcomed her brining violet back to her office to have a chat with her about School. "I'm your guidance counselor Mrs.Evans welcome to west haven high you are actually are first.. Zuanite coming to this school its a pleasure" she says as she hands vi her

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schedule for school which read, '-period one , algebra - period 2, science - period 3 , health - period 4 - physics, - period 5 - lunch, -period 6 - Spanish , - period 7 - band' The schedule was actual dog shit, who the hell even signed her up for those classes? definitely wasn't Vander. "what the fuck? Spanish ? band? I didn't chose those?" vi was pissed of she hated learning different languages she would rather stick to writing or math.

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"we did sweetheart, you have to take music and a language here." Mrs.Evans was trying to tell vi but would she care? no. "you're first teacher is Ms.greenbell she is in room 103 upstairs to the left" mrs.Evans said pointing violet to the hallway that would lead her upstairs. As vi was making her way upstairs she was getting just mean mugs from people in the hallway , Probably because she was a zuanite who wasn't like, then the classroom came into her sigh with the big numbers by the door "room 103, mrs greenbell maths". "great, just fucking great" vi thought to herself, god this day was gonna be hell.

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As she walked into the class the stupid teacher just HAD to introduce her. "This is vi, she's from the undercity please treat her with respect even though she's not from here" everyone just stared at vi, she was never the type to get anxiety but she was feeling it now, her hands were breaking into a cold sweat and she felt nauseas like she could throw up any second. "vi, go sit down next to Caitlyn she's the one with dark blue hair." dark blue- dark blue oh there she is, she was sitting in the 2nd row there was a empty seat next her, as she sat next to her vi still felt like she was gonna have a panic attack, she just wanted to die in that moment she hated every second of it.

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She was suddenly broken out of her thoughts when the girl next to her spoke up. "hey, I'm Caitlyn you're vi right? new Undercity student" Caitlyn said while looking at vi, something was off , she thought she was pretty yes but there was something else in her gut, no no just ignore it probably feeling nervousness because she's from the Undercity.. yeah that. "uh yeah I am , got a problem with it?" vi's tone was almost threating but playfully. "no no problems just wondering because you look like it.. kinda no offense." Caitlyn rubs the back of her neck, why was she being awkward ?

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she was never awkward with people. "what's that suppose to mean bluey?" vi was always the type of girl to give people nicknames , she loved doing it with people even in a teasing matter. "whats up with the nickname vi? i just met you isn't it weird to give some-" suddenly caitlyn was cut off by Mrs.Greenbell, "no talking Mrs.Kiramman no not even to the knew student." godamnit, caitlyn never got yelled at or called out shit. "continue after class? study hall is after this i have Mr.Evans" caitlyn said , maintaining eye contact with vi. "Same, and sure thing bluey."

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AN : `chapter 2 , 3 , 4 will be posted on here and also ao3 and wattpad , enjoy this cute lil fic i made while i was bored :)`

[gingermintpepper]

Absolutely the funniest thing about my current corner of tumblr is that pretty much everyone I've recently followed for Apollo-Appreciating Purposes are either genuinely Hellenist or just rather very into Rick Riordan's Trials of Apollo series which is wild because I know a net zero about both of those things.

[deadandphilgames]

oversharing in the tags time :)

[guinevereslancelot]

how do i stop feeling like i'm in trouble all the time fr. sitting here on my lunch break like everyone's gonna be soooo mad when u get back...from lunch...which you are allowed to have.....(?)

[icharchivist]

was refreshing myself on some old myth for a bit and i read the french and english wiki page for the Charybdis' mythos, and i'm noticing something that i don't know if it's just the wiki being inaccurate or an actual difference (from the linguistic page it seems to be an actual difference) but

In English there's this expression about choosing between two equally bad horrible situations by saying "choosing between Scylla and Charybdis"

But in French the expression is "to fall from Charybdis to Scylla" and instead of a choice it's about managing to get out of a horrible situation only to get thrown into an even worse situation (the equivalent of the English's expression ""falling out of the frying pan into the fire")

if i believe the linguistic page there was a bit of borrowing around and technically both expressions are used in both language, but you're more likely to find the first one in English and the second one in French (very likely because Victor Hugo popularized "to fall from Charybdis to Scylla" with Les Misérables) (does not mean it started in French the origin of the expression is still Greek anyway, just talking about why the saying is more popular in French with weirdos like me)

idk i think it's cool on a sort of metatextual perspective that English People saw this myth and when "oof imagine picking between those two" while French people just chugged a bottle of wine and went "And it's a BINGO and LIFE SUCKS and it NEVER GETS EASIER you get BOTH OF THEM BABEYYY"