#it's all i could ever ask for given the situation but i miss my parents and my sister and my cat and my family and my aldeia :')

[exoexid]

first experiences in a new city!!

[flimsy-roost]

I realized the other day that the reason I didn't watch much TV as a teenager (and why I'm only now catching up on late aughts/early teens media that I missed), is because I literally didn't understand how to use our TV. My parents got a new system, and it had three remotes with a Venn diagram of functions. If someone left the TV on an unfamiliar mode, I didn't know how to get back to where I wanted to be, so I just stopped watching TV on my own altogether.

I explained all this to my therapist, because I didn't know if this was more related to my then-unnoticed autism, or to my relationship with my parents at the time (we had issues less/unrelated to neurodivergency). She told me something interesting.

In children's autism assessments, a common test is to give them a straightforward task that they cannot reasonably perform, like opening an overtight jar. The "real" test is to see, when they realize that they cannot do it on their own, if they approach a caregiver for help. Children that do not seek help are more likely to be autistic than those that do.

This aligns with the compulsory independence I've noticed to be common in autistic adults, particularly articulated by those with lower support needs and/or who were evaluated later in life. It just genuinely does not occur to us to ask for help, to the point that we abandon many tasks that we could easily perform with minor assistance. I had assumed it was due to a shared common social trauma (ie bad experiences with asking for help in the past), but the fact that this trait is a childhood test metric hints at something deeper.

My therapist told me that the extremely pathologizing main theory is that this has something to do with theory of mind, that is doesn't occur to us that other people may have skills that we do not. I can't speak for my early childhood self, or for all autistic people, but I don't buy this. Even if I'm aware that someone else has knowledge that I do not (as with my parents understanding of our TV), asking for help still doesn't present itself as an option. Why?

My best guess, using only myself as a model, is due to the static wall of a communication barrier. I struggle a lot to make myself understood, to articulate the thing in my brain well enough that it will appear identically (or at least close enough) in somebody else's brain. I need to be actively aware of myself and my audience. I need to know the correct words, the correct sentence structure, and a close-enough tone, cadence, and body language. I need draft scripts to react to possible responses, because if I get caught too off guard, I may need several minutes to construct an appropriate response. In simple day-to-day interactions, I can get by okay. In a few very specific situations, I can excel. When given the opportunity, I can write more clearly than I am ever capable of speaking.

When I'm in a situation where I need help, I don't have many of my components of communication. I don't always know what my audience knows. I don't have sufficient vocabulary to explain what I need. I don't know what information is relevant to convey, and the order in which I should convey it. I don't often understand the degree of help I need, so I can come across inappropriately urgent or overly relaxed. I have no ability to preplan scripts because I don't even know the basic plot of the situation.

I can stumble though with one or two deficiencies, but if I'm missing too much, me and the potential helper become mutually unintelligible. I have learned the limits of what I can expect from myself, and it is conceptualized as a real and physical barrier. I am not a runner, so running a 5k tomorrow does not present itself as an option to me. In the same way, if I have subconscious knowledge that an interaction is beyond my capability, it does not present itself as an option to me. It's the minimum communication requirements that prevent me from asking for help, not anything to do with the concept of help itself.

Maybe. This is the theory of one person. I'm curious if anyone else vibes with this at all.

[cosmiclily]

.ᐟ chapter one: can you see me using everything to hold back?

wc: 1k

cw: talk about death of parents (literally one sentence)

the first time we met, the first thing I noticed about vi was her ridiculous haircut and how she had the most beautiful blue eyes i had ever seen (which wasn’t saying much, considering I was only 10). i instantly wanted to be her friend. but my mom had told me that she and powder were still adjusting and their situation was a little delicate since they had just lost their parents. so, i held myself back as much as I could.

three weeks later, when the adoption papers were signed by vander and they officially became his daughters, i was given the mission of helping the girls feel at home. they were very shy at first, but ekko and i helped them, and in no time, vander’s house had become their home. from then on, vi and I became the best of friends. i covered for her when she got into fights at school, we studied together, played together, we were basically inseparable.

i remember one afternoon not long after the adoption. vi was sitting on the roof, kicking her legs idly and staring at the stars. she looked lost in thought. I hesitated for a moment, not sure if i should bother her, but eventually, i walked over and sat beside her.

“what’re you doing out here all by yourself?” i asked, trying to sound casual.

“just thinking,” she said, her voice quiet. she didn’t look at me, but her hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “it’s weird, you know? having a new home.”

i didn’t know what to say to that, so i just nodded. “yeah, I guess it would be.”

she finally looked at me, her gaze piercing but soft “do you think it’ll get easier?”

i smiled, trying to reassure her even though I wasn’t sure myself. “yeah, i think so. you’ve got vander now. and powder. and… me.”

she smiled for the first time that day. “you’re not too bad, I guess.”

i laughed. “not too bad? wow, thanks for the compliment.”

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life couldn’t have been better—until we got to high school and vi had a growth spurt and became insufferable. not only did she get taller and figure out how to manage her hair, but she also developed a sense of style and made it her mission to break every heart in zaun. Suddenly, every hallway we walked down was filled with girls trying to catch her attention, and she seemed to enjoy it.

one day, as we walked home together, i couldn’t help but tease her about it.

“you know, you’ve got a fan club now,” i said, smirking.

vi raised an eyebrow. “a fan club? what are you talking about?”

i gestured back towards the school. “those girls who basically tripped over themselves trying to say hi to you. pretty sure one of them nearly fainted when you smiled at her.”

she laughed, a confident sound that only made her more infuriating. “can i help it if people think i’m charming?”

i rolled my eyes. “charming? not so sure. annoying? definitely.”

she bumped her shoulder against mine, her grin widening. “admit it, you’d miss me if i wasn’t around.”

i looked away, trying to hide the flush on my cheeks. “yeah, right. you’re just my backup for when ekko’s busy.”

“liar,” she said, laughing again.

i shouldn’t have cared about any of that, but my brain decided it would be a fantastic idea to fall in love with her. so, every time she had a girl around—whether it was someone new she was flirting with or a girlfriend she brought home—i had to pretend life was great and that it didn’t affect me at all.

it got harder as time went on. every stolen glance at her became more unbearable, every casual touch felt like torture, and every time i saw her with someone else, it felt like a reminder that she’d never look at me the way I wanted her to. but i couldn’t show it, couldn’t let her or anyone else know how I felt. i was scared our friendship would suffer the consequences of my feelings, so i buried it deep, pretending that everything was fine.

which it was, it actually became second nature by the time we moved in together for college.

our apartment was small but comfortable, and vi's personality seemed to fill every corner. she had insisted on hanging a crooked poster of a rock band that jinx had gifted her—a band she loved—in the living room, despite all my protests.

“it’s not crooked,” she argued, stepping back and tilting her head. “it’s artistic.”

“it’s crooked,” i said, crossing my arms. “fix it or i’m taking it out.”

vi grinned at me. “if i fix it, where’s the fun in watching you suffer?”

“you’re impossible.”

“you love me,” she said casually, turning to grab her drink from the counter. my heart stuttered, and I quickly looked away before she could see my face.

“unfortunately” i said, but it came out without the bite intended.

──────────────────────

late one night, we were sitting on the balcony, watching the city lights. vi leaned back in her chair, her legs propped up on the railing, as she stared up at the sky.

“do you ever think about what’s next?” she asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“what do you mean?” i asked, sipping my coffee.

“like… after college. what we’re gonna do. where we’ll end up.” she looked at me then, her expression softer than usual. “do you think we’ll still be close?”

the question caught me off guard, and I had to force myself to answer without hesitating. “of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

she shrugged, her gaze drifting back to the stars. “i don’t know. life happens. people drift apart.”

“not us,” i said firmly, surprising even myself. “we’ve been through too much. you’re stuck with me, violet.”

she smiled, her eyes catching the faint glow of the streetlights. “good. i like having you around.”

my chest tightened, and I looked away before she could see the way her words affected me. “someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

“hey, I’m a model citizen,” she teased, laughing. “you’re the bad influence here.”

i laughed too, even though the ache in my heart lingered. she had no idea the effect she had on me.

──────────────────────

album - track 2

notes: chapter one heehee, english isn’t my first language so i’m sorry for any mistakes!! this is basically just an introduction for the characters not much plot going on but i hope you guys enjoyed either way !!

[thefiery-phoenix]

PLATONIC YANDERE POTTER FAMILY X READER X WEASLEY FAMILY

In this AU, Harry's parents are well alive

You'd most probably meet the Potter family first before meeting the Weasley family and I have a feeling that they'd be friends with each other. You'd meet the Potter family on the day Harry was going to Hogwarts, James did have quite a legacy at Hogwarts for being one of the best Quidditch seekers the Gryffindor Quidditch team ever had. Harry was looking forward to follow in his footsteps and the two of you met at the Kings' Cross Station. Your parents couldn't come with you to drop you off because they had an important business meeting with some client in Switzerland and they left you with your aunt who only dropped you off at the station and took off almost immediately, leaving you all by yourself surrounded with complete strangers. You've never been to Kings' Cross Station before and you had no idea where in the name of Merlin was platform 9 3/4. You've asked the Station master nearby and he thought you were just messing with him and pranking him which was why he just shooed you away

You were at a loss, you didn't know what to do and whom to contact, it wasn't like you were given an official guide as to where the platform was. You started panicking, thinking that the Hogwarts Express would be leaving without you any minute and you'd miss your wonderful chance to go to Hogwarts. You couldn't help but blink back a few tears of frustration as you felt that the situation was spinning out of control. You sighed and sat down on a bench for a moment to think about what to do next. You spotted a family of 3, a young boy of your age wearing glasses with a scar on his head, along with his parents, a man who resembled the boy's appearance, his father perhaps and his mother with hair as Red as the autumn leaves were accompanying their son with his trolley. "Blimey Harry, can't believe you're going to Hogwarts. Time does fly by fast" said James dramatically as he wiped his fake tears away

His wife, Lily glared at him and whispered "Shh... what if someone hears?" "It'll be all right, muggles don't know a damn thing about platform 9 and 3 quarters and Hogwarts and all that" he waved airily as they walked past you. An idea suddenly formed and took shape in your head as you followed them and when you finally caught up to them, you spoke "Umm... hi there, good morning. I was wondering if you could please direct me to where platform 9 and 3 quarters is...I know it exists, I just can't find it..." you finished with a forlorn look on your face as they stared at you in amazement for a moment and they had a silent discussion with each other through their eyes. You were indeed, one of them. "Don't worry dear, we'll help you. Where are your parents though?" enquired Lily as you replied "They're in Switzerland at the moment" "Oh...who came to drop you off then?" asked James as you answered "My aunt. She had some work to do back at her law firm. She's a lawyer so... it's just me by myself" you laughed slightly as they felt sad. Even though they just met you, Harry could already sense you were a bit upset and sad about something, the way your eyes had that wistful and wishful lost look in them, James and Lily didn't think too kindly about your aunt and your parents either at the moment

Attending Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry and boarding the Hogwarts Express for the very first time was a magical once in a lifetime experience which would be memorable in one's life. How could your so called family just abandon you like that without even taking the time off from their work to even see you off properly? And did your family not care about your safety at all? What about all the dangerous and unknown strangers lurking around? The society and world these days isn't really that safe you know especially for sweet little things such as yourself. They decided to accompany you and show you the ropes as you tagged along with them and felt grateful that you'd finally catch your train in time

You noticed Harry's scar and when you asked him how he got it, he just had a sheepish smile on his face and replied "I was trying to catch a snitch at the Diagon Alley on my broom and I accidentally crash landed at Borgin and Burkes near Knockturn alley. The owner wasn't really that pleased with me when I smashed some of his stuff but the incident did kind of catch on with the other witches and wizards from the magical world. Some thought it was amusing and they think I'll follow in my dad's footsteps to become a great seeker like him" "What's a seeker?" you asked him with a confused and bewildered expression on your face. He stared at you for a moment and then it dawned upon him that you could have spent your life living with muggles and you probably had no idea what he was talking about. However no matter, he'd show you and teach you everything

You guys reached the platform just in time and you thanked them for their help as Lily hugged you and smiled "Enjoy yourself dear. Stay safe and have fun but don't get into any trouble" your heart warmed at her words, it was the sort of advice a mother would give to her child before sending them off into the real world all by themselves. You nodded as you boarded the train with Harry, saying your farewell and goodbyes to the Potter family. James and Lily couldn't get you off their minds for some reason, they were concerned with your safety and wondered if you were being treated well at home. Perhaps they'd better write to Harry after he reached Hogwarts to check up on you and update them about you. Just to be safe

You were talking with Harry and your conversation was interrupted when a ginger haired boy around your age dressed in black robes, with freckles on his face peeked in and spoke "Excuse me, do you mind? Everyone else's is full..." "Not at all" replied Harry as he motioned for the guy to take a seat in front of him. "I'm Ron by the way. Ron Weasley" he introduced himself as Harry introduced himself and you introduced yourself as well. The three of you were engaged in discussions when the sliding door opened again and this time, a girl with brown hair asked if any of you had seen a toad, a boy named Neville had lost one. The three of you said you hadn't spotted a toad and when she saw the wand in Ron's hand, she spoke "Oh, you're doing magic? Let's see it then" with an interested look on her face. Ron glanced at the two of you nervously but composed himself as he straightened his posture and uttered a spell which you were pretty sure wasn't even real because instead of turning his pet rat Scabbers yellow, he just made it frightened and it started scampering around everywhere till he finally managed to calm it down

The girl introduced herself as Hermione Granger and she disappeared after she told you three to change into your robes. You finally reached Hogwarts after a few hours and you were speechless by the magnificence and splendor before you. It looked exactly like the sort of castles in your bedtime stories your mother used to read for you when you were little, before she wasn't too preoccupied with her work and had time for you. You went along with the other first years led by a giant of a man named Hagrid who you thought was quite nice and friendly. Then the head of the Gryffindor house, Minerva McGonagall who was also the Transfiguration professor gave you all some background information about the houses

"Slytherin is filled with dark wizards and witches. And crackpots too" whispered Ron to you and you felt nervous, you didn't want to get sorted into Slytherin and lose your new friends. Professor McGonagall then asked you all to wait for a few moments as she needed to get some things ready for the sorting ceremony and as soon as she left, a blonde haired guy spoke "So it's true then, the sayings on the train... Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts" as everyone looked at him in surprise and muttered among themselves. "This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy... Draco Malfoy" as he introduced himself and Ron snickered in a not so subtle manner. Of course Draco heard it and wasn't really pleased with his reaction as he sneered at him. " You think my name's funny do you? There's no need to ask yours... red hair, a hand me down robe... you must be a Wealsey..." as he turned back to Harry and spoke "You'll have to know by now that there are some Wizarding families that are better than the others Potter. You're a part of the Sacred 28 after all,you don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort..." and glared at Ron again

You barely knew Malfoy for 5 minutes when you intervened "I'm sorry, what exactly makes a family a part of the Sacred 28? And Harry can make his decisions for himself. Of course, if you were a part of a Sacred family, your values and morals would be decent as well. Else you wouldn't be insulting people right off the bat as soon as you meet them". Some of the first years around you 'ooohed' when you said that as Malfoy's face grew hot and red with anger as he snarled "Stay out of this. No one asked you for your opinion" and you just rolled your eyes in response. Harry and Ron stared in amazement at your courage as Hermione was observing the scene from a distance away. It was your first day at Hogwarts and you were already getting ready to fight? She looked on rather disapprovingly but part of her admired your courage and loyalty for your friends by standing up for them. Which was why she also gripped her wand in her pockets just in case she could pull it out if the situation got out of hand. She didn't want anything happening to you for some reason

It was time for the sorting at long last, the moment you've been waiting for and Harry, Ron and Hermione were sorted into the Gryffindor house whereas Malfoy was sorted into the Slytherin house. The sorting hat was placed on top of your head and it muttered "Hmm.... interesting. Very very interesting...." as you nervously looked up at it and asked "What is?" "In all my years of sorting students into houses, you're truly something. You have bravery, courage and loyalty, fit to be a Gryffindor and yet, that cheek, determination and lots and lots of ambition to make you a Slytherin. Plenty of brains, the curiosity and hunger for knowledge is in there as well, you'd do well in Ravenclaw. You're also kind hearted and have the good old nature that Helga Hufflepuff was talking  about...hmm... where to put you?" it asked you

It was quite an interesting predicament because never before did anyone see the sorting hat have trouble sorting someone into a house. Everyone looked at you with bated breath as you could feel everyone's eyes on you which made you a bit conscious of yourself but you tried your best to ignore the feeling. The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore was watching you quite closely as professor Snape, the Potions professor seemed interested as well. After a few moments of deliberation, the sorting hat finally sorted you into Gryffindor which you felt relieved about. Harry, Ron and Hermione felt immensely glad that you were in the same house along with them. You felt an exhilarating feeling course through your body when everyone clapped for you as you joined the Gryffindor table. You were introduced to the Wealsey siblings present there, Percy Wealsey, the third oldest who was the Gryffindor prefect, Fred and George the twins who were overly fond of pranking people and you made a mental note to not get on their bad side. The last thing you needed was to wake up with horns on your head or something or a tail for that matter

Harry, Ron, Hermione and you became fast friends pretty quick but you refused to talk with them when they didn't include you in the quest for the Philosopher's stone. It broke their hearts but it was for your own good,you couldn't be put in danger like that. They cared for you too much and it drove them crazy when you ignored them or just glared at them angrily and stormed off. You finally softened a bit towards them when they said that they didn't want to put you in danger and they just wanted you to be safe. You started hanging out with them again as usual and they were elated, the days you refused to even spare them a second glance was utter torture for them. Harry, Ron and Hermione were like your three overprotective shadows, always around you no matter what. They've appointed themselves as your official caretakers and grew possessive and obsessive of you really quick

Harry wrote to his parents about you regularly as Ron did to his parents as well. During Christmas your parents forgot to send you your Christmas presents and you felt heartbroken. Harry, Ron and Hermione were mad as hell so they pitched in and got you some treats from the Great Hall and a few Christmas goodies of your own like a journal from Hermione, a cute quill set from Ron and from Harry, a book he thought you might be interested to read along with an encouraging note from all three of them. Of course they've mentioned to their parents that you haven't received any gifts for Christmas and you've received dozens of parcels from the Potter family and the Wealsey family, even though you hardly knew them. But they knew everything about you, more than you could know about yourself. You've received puddings, Tarts, cakes, pastries, sweaters, a maroon jumper with a W stitched on it and a snowglobe with a cute tiny snowman inside it. You felt grateful for their presents and sad at the same time for your own parents and family forgetting about you just like that

You were even more crushed when your parents said that they needed to go to France for a work conference and your aunt would be preoccupied with a huge case in the muggle world which meant you couldn't go back home. You were pretty devastated when you were invited by Ron to spend time with his family as Harry stated that his parents would join them at the Weasley's house for a couple of days. You agreed and upon reaching the Wealsey house, you could feel the warmth and homely feeling the atmosphere radiated. It certainly did give off homely vibes. You wished your family was also like this. You were introduced to Molly, who hugged you and spoke "So you're the famous Y/N my Ronald keeps talking about all the time... it's so nice to finally meet you dear" as Ron heatedly yelled out "MUM!" as Fred and George snickered in the background, whispering about how Ron was a simp for you as he told them to shut up

You were even introduced to Arthur Weasley, the father of Ron and the other Wealsey siblings who worked at the Ministry of magic, Bill Weasley who worked as a curse breaker at Gringotts the Wizarding bank in Egypt, Charlie Wealsey who worked with dragons in Romania which you found extremely fascinating. There was also young Ginny Weasley, who'd be starting Hogwarts next year. She was shy at first but she really opened up to you and she had fun being around you. The Weasley family loved and enjoyed your presence, it felt like you were part of their family already

Percy could see you becoming a head boy/ girl or prefect and he wanted to become your guide but Fred and George kept stealing you away to their room to show you their latest inventions. They loved it when your eyes sparkle and light up in curiosity, they feel proud when you take in interest in their inventions as do the other Wealseys when you enquired about their hobbies and pastimes. Molly wouldn't even let you step out of the house when it was time for De- gnoming the garden, she didn't want you getting injured and everyone agreed that it would be best for you if you'd stayed in while they'd take care of the business

A few days later James and Lily showed up at the Burrow and greeted you warmly as all of you sat down together and discussed various things over some nice hot steaming bowls of soup and a scrumptious feast laid out by Molly and Lily. When you were asked about your love life by Ginny, you literally choked on your soup as Molly patted you on the back and James handed you a glass of water. "Ginevra, that isn't a question for the dinner table" said Molly with a death stare as everyone present there became very interested in what you had to say. "Believe it or not, some guy from our Potions class, Troy Mullers asked me out for Valentine's day" "What did you say?" asked Hermione as everyone felt that sudden protective urge to make sure you were safe by all means necessary, even if it meant getting that Troy schmuck out of the way. They won't stand for someone to romantically court you, you were too kind and innocent to have your heart and feelings being taken for a ride by some random immature guy you barely even knew

"I... I rejected him. He wasn't happy about it and he called me all sorts of mean names but... it's not something I'm not used to" you shrugged it off as they all felt anger course through their veins. Who dared to make you sad and upset by calling you mean names and hurt your feelings? In fact Charlie was ready to send a Hungarian Horntail after them and Fred and George would send them Howlers after Holwers and packages with explosive Dungbombs from Zonkos, the Wizarding joke shop that go off as soon as you open the parcel. They were seething and they all came to a single conclusion, you had to be taken under their care for your own good. And judging by the way your so called family was treating you, you wouldn't want to be spend more time with them anymore which was a huge favor for them. Besides, what good is a family if they can't take care of you? Don't worry dear, they'll look after you and care for you like their very own. You've become a part of their families now whether you wanted to or not and it's like they say, family ALWAYS comes first...

[harleehazbinfics]

A day off without you.

A/N: i missed my goobers

--- Cannibal Chef!Reader m.list

You never took any days off, especially when you loved being by Alastor's side. So, what was the point if you took a break when you won't see him? Today however, you were left in the hotel without Alastor. When Charlie saw him leave the hotel without you tailing behind him, this left Charlie with a chance to kidnap you.

"Come on! Let's go to Lu Lu Laaaand!~" she sang wearing a duck hat and waving a yellow flag around.

You tilted your head unable to comprehend the situation while all the others just sighed and shrugged following her lead, pretty used to Charlie aggressively suggesting exercises that would help them 'get along better' however, nowadays they didn't mind it, they pretty much enjoyed each other's company, except for you.

You never really minded them. You always stuck by Alastor's side besides when he talks to them that's the only times you get to interact with them. So, taking the opportunity Charlie brought you along with them.

"Are you sure we should bring cannibal bitch over here?" Angel whispered leaning down on Charlie while you inspected the little hat and eventually putting it on your head with a derpy look in your face.

"Of course! We never really had the chance to talk to them since they're basically glued to Alastor all the time. I want everyone to get to know each other and get along," Charlie explained feeling sorry for you that you never got to experience any relationships aside from what you had with him.

Angel merely shrugs and replies, "You're the boss."

"Ooh! Ooh! (y/n)! Let's go on that!" Nifty excitedly points at the rollercoaster while her other handheld yours, like a little kid with their parent.

"Oh! That's a great idea! Angel why don't you sit next with (y/n) while I sit with Nifty?" Charlie asks holding Nifty by the armpits while the little goofball smiled.

Both of you shrug indifferently as you got on the ride, going on a steady pace to the top.

"Have you ever ridden one of these before?" Angel tries to start a conversation almost awkwardly.

You shook your head not even smiling like you used to when you're with Alastor, and answered in a monotone voice, "No, I'm always with Sir Alastor so I don't really have a chance to. Even when I was alive I was always cooking or playing around with Yuta."

He only looked at you sadly, compared to him you were clearly much younger when you died and spent majority in hell bowing to someone's will even if you were willing. You never had freedom to do something for yourself.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when the ride finally started as you both plummeted from a grand height increasing his adrenaline. With many twists and turns, and lots of excited screaming from him and the back, he turns to you and sees eyes filled with interest and fascination.

On wobbly legs all of you chattered excitedly as you got done from the ride. Angel looks at you to see the excited look on your eyes and a small blush on your cheek from the thrill.

"How was it, doll?" he asks with a grin.

"It was... fun," you reply with a little smile and flushed cheeks.

He purses his lips from disbelief that he saw a genuine smile on your face. He thought that you could only smile if you were given the attention you wanted or when you kill people. But you were still young afterall.

The other also saw this exchange and couldn't help but be happy for you. So, they took you on more rides and made you wear more duck themed clothes and had wonderful times together where they saw you break into a smile or laugh multiple times.

By the time you arrive back at the hotel, Alastor waited for everyone by the balcony drinking coffee by himself.

He sees you from the distance laughing and talking to Angel and Husk sharing jokes and stories from the trip with one another. He smiles candidly seeing you enjoying yourself, however he couldn't help but feel somewhat annoyed that you were giving a smile that wasn't for him.

But he'll let it slide for now.

"Sir Alastor! I brought you some gifts from our trip!" you yell from below him waving your hand enthusiastically.

"Did you enjoy yourself, (y/n)-dear?" he asks appearing before you.

"Yes! I had lots of fun with everyone!" you smile genuinely making the group feel like the trip was worth it after all, ending in a happier note.

mini explaination here why i made reader this way: reader was a culinary student that pretty much dedicated their life pleasing other people that they thought that was the only way for them to be happy (e.i. laugh, smile, etc). that's why they poured their hours on Yuta and Alastor to feel validated. so i wanted them to have a connection with Angel since he's the only one who canonically has siblings, and i wanted them to form that bond for probably future chapters. that and i want to reader to have a chance at a real family, when their's abused them and all. that's all thankkkkssss (also they just hate Vox lmao, probably shift between she and they from here)

[jmagnabo92]

So I saw a post on Instagram, and it said:

‘Isn't it funny how James Potter decided to bully and harass a malnourished little boy from an abusive family just for existing, and years later, James' son became a malnourished little boy from an abusive family that bullies him just for existing’ 

And all the comments were agreeing and saying things like, ‘Karma’, ‘Glad I’m a James Potter hater’, ‘Don’t understand how he has even one fan’

And I was like… what??? Was so tempted to write a whole thing about it but decided the hate I’d get wasn’t worth it. What are your opinions about this? 

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??!!!

That's my initial reaction.

Don't these people know that the sins of the father shall not be visited upon the son?

It's not karma for Harry to suffer for James' mistakes. It's bullshit and I hope that no one that believes that has ever done anything wrong in their lives or their kids shall suffer. AND THERE"S NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT THIS BS.

Now, let's point out how else they're wrong.

First of all, I had to re-read the Prince's Tale - and mind you, I did skim it so I could've missed things, but there is NO WHERE that says he was 'malnourished' as a boy. Not a single description said anything was physically wrong with Snape like malnourishment. It talks about his mismatched clothes, and his parents arguing. There's a line about James having an 'air of well-cared for - ness that Snape lacked' but there's NOTHING that he states he was malnourished or even abused.

So that's utter BS. I won't argue about the abuse, but there was no evidence that he was malnourished.

As for the about "just for existing" - I think a lot of people forget that SWM canonically happens *after* James saves Snape's life from Werewolf Remus. The reason that it's easy to figure that out is there is a scene with Snape/Lily arguing about the MM thing and she literally mentions James saving him the other night.

The next scene is SWM.

Now, before get into that importance - I want to point out that in the scene about MM & the saving of Snape, Lily asks, "Why are you so obsessed with them?" and if it was a relentlessly unfair bullying situation there's two obvious answers:

A) he's been bullying me for years

B) I have to obsess so I can get one over on them.

He doesn't say either of those things - you know what he *does* say - he says "Potter fancies you"... and more about 'how great he thinks he is'.... isn't that rather suspicious?

You know what's also suspicious? If Snape's being relentlessly bullied than WHY DOESN"T HIS BEST FRIEND KNOW THE OBVIOUS? Maybe because it wasn't a situation of bully/victim - maybe it was a rivalry like Dumbledore suggested in the first book.

Now, back to the timeline:

So James saves his life and yet says "it's the fact that he exists" - which sounds terrible, right?

Of course it does, but here's the thing - Snape had literally as recently possibly two weeks previously (we don't know *exactly* when but sometime between Nov of 5th year and OWLs) had attempted to (at best) OUT Remus (at worst) KILL Remus - who is ONE of James' BFFs. Now - on top of that - we know that Snape has been obsessed with a theory for ages about Remus. We see this in the MM & Saving conversation - Lily says "I know your theory" with the air of someone that has heard his theories before. Given that he only found out *for sure* within a few days of that conversation that suggests that he has been going after Remus for a while.

So, here we have Snape's attempt to get Remus out or killed and James has every reason to hate him - he's a loyal guy. He believes in his friendships so much it cost his life and literally learned something that could put him behind bars *just to help his friend*. Whatever happened, however it happened, that doesn't matter to James.

What *does* matter is that Snape tried to detrimentally hurt his friend. So he has a reason, but in SWM, he literally *can't* say that. He would be outing Remus and he's not going to do that.

Which means he NEVER did anything *just because he exists* - he had a reason, he just couldn't say it.

Now, why does James have fans?

Because he's a good man. This is the man that did stupid shit when he was a teen, sometimes for good, sometimes for bad, but nothing he did was ever on par with the things that Snape was doing - I've got a while post on that.

After he grows up, he joins the Order - to do good for people that he doesn't have to care about, yet does. He does so much good, he becomes a target. In that, he then goes on to give his life for wife and son. And they think this man doesn't deserve fans? What Bullshit is this??

***

ANYWAY, my longass point here is that: They're idiots, and I kind of wish that some people had more thought into the situation. James deserves better.

[bumblebugwrites]

Are You Mine?

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: For as long as you could remember you and Lockwood had butted heads. Always getting on each other’s nerves, getting in each other’s ways. You basically hate each other. Right?

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Cursing, Angst (like lowkey)

Word Count: 3.8k

If there existed within the planes of this earth a man more detestable than Anthony Lockwood, you had been lucky enough to avoid making his acquaintance. Though Quill Kipps may have made for a close second, you would rather spend an hour locked in a room alone with the latter than fifteen minutes solo with Lockwood in the kitchen of your own home. It had always been that way, with some minor exceptions and though time managed to cool some of the ever-raging conflict between you, you never quite saw eye to eye.

It was a well-known fact that you and George came as a package deal. The brains and his bodyguard, that’s what Lockwood called you. And for what it was worth, it wasn’t too far from the truth. You were, always had been, a strike first, ask questions later kind of girl. Where George had the perspective and the research to see the world in shades of gray, your situation forced you to see only in black and white. Maybe that’s why you and Lockwood had always hated each other so much. Everything was always an act with him, and you simply didn’t have the time to peel back the layers. 

From your very first meeting two weeks after George was fired and you quit to ensure his safety, your chances at friendship had been dismal. The pair of you had been staying in a small, rundown hotel with what little money you could spare from your previous stint of employment, getting by on only one meal a day, a small black coffee passed back and forth and one half of a bagel each. It was miserable to say the least. Needless to say, not many people were looking to hire a fired Fittes employee and his weary sidekick. Then, on the second Tuesday since your loss of employment, George found Lockwood’s ad in the papers and after calling and being informed that you would be given the chance to interview immediately you couldn’t help the small plum of hope that settled deep within your chest at the opportunity. George on the other hand was ecstatic, fantasizing eagerly about his first meal post hiring before even setting foot in the door. That is until it opened, revealing a boy no older than you, outfitted in a freshly pressed suit.

“Mr. Lockwood?” George questioned, as you held back taking him in.

“That’s me, come in.” He signaled you forward with a smile so dazzling you were forced to avert your eyes. Your gaze fixed itself on the ground instead, taking note of the unsullied sill and the doormat, that’s edges aligned themselves perfectly with the jambs on either side. It was pristine. Alarmingly so.

“I take it we’re your first interview of the day?” The boy looked caught off guard by the sound of your voice, but quickly readjusted his features into an easy grin. 

“The rest were here yesterday, so you’ve just missed them.” You quirked a doubtful brow but remained silent and followed as he beckoned you forward into what looked to be a small library of sorts. 

“Normally I do my interviews one-on-one,” Lockwood spoke, looking back and forth between the two of you as you sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch. You felt George shift uncomfortably to your left.

“Well, we’re a package deal. We come together or not at all.” The phrase weighed on your tongue as it left your mouth. You’d been using it all week and where at first it felt simple, some sort of obvious truth, it was growing harder and harder to use. Especially when George had his parents to rely on and you had, well, nothing.

“Right… Well, the tests don’t work quite as well when you’re both in the room.” George leaned over, squeezing your hand in a signal that all would be well, before standing up to move to the hallway.

“That’s fine, I’ll wait my turn.”

After a series of demonstrations regarding your Talent, easily passed as you’d always had a fairly strong sense of Sight and a long wait in the hall for George’s turn, you were back in the room once more. 

“Right then, that’s all I’ve really got for today, so you can be on your way, and I’ll be back to you tomorrow with my decision,” Lockwood smiled, leaning back into his armchair.

“Tomorrow?”

“(Y/N)--” George attempted to place a soothing hand on your shoulder, but you shook him off with ease.

“No. I want to know what is going on here.” Once more Lockwood’s brows arched in surprise, but he kept the remainder of his features under control this time.

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re not excused. You have an ad in the papers calling yourself an agency, but you’re obviously just some sad excuse of a one-man operation, sorry one-boy operation. I mean do you even have a Supervisor?”

“Well–”

“Oh, never mind that, because worse yet, you’ve been lying to us since the moment we set foot in the door. There haven’t been any other interviews, have there Mr. Lockwood? And you had better tell me the truth because I don’t appreciate having my time wasted.”

“You do realize I’m the one conducting this interview? As in I have the power to employ you, or not.” The boyish facade vanished in only a moment and the clear hint of a threat laced his tone, but it didn’t matter, because you were outraged. Act first, think later, right? Your hand flew without hesitation to the rapier at your side and within a moment it was drawn and swinging directly towards the boy in front of you. Not to harm of course, just to return the threat. But he was fast, faster than you’d realized, and by the time your blade was making its descent, he had risen from his seat to meet it with his own.

“I highly doubt you would like to face the implications of attacking me in my own home.”

“I was just leaving anyways.” You resheathed your sword in one quick motion, and began your warpath towards the door, George calling out after you. He caught your arm just as you reached your destination.

“(Y/N) please. He’s actually considered us, that’s more than we can say for any other place.”

“I am not here to be to entertain the fantasies of some boy who’s decided to play grown up for the day.”

“Come on, this seems real enough, he’s certified and everything. Besides, we’re running out of options, and you know it–”

“We can find another–”

“We can’t. I could always go live with my parents, but it will take years for anyone to hire me after Fittes let me go. And you– Well I doubt any of those places from before will take you now, and it’s not like you have–”

“That’s enough George–” You cut him off as Lockwood appeared in the doorway to the library, a knowing look painted across his features. “We should just go. I’ve caused enough of a mess as is and it’s not like he’s making his decision any time soon.”

Your stature deflated as you reached once more for the exit.

“Actually, I made my decision the moment you both passed my test.” You and George spun around in unison. “You were right,” he said, hanging his head sheepishly, “there were no other interviews.”

“So, what are you saying?” It was George who spoke, but Lockwood kept his eyes fixed on you as he made his answer.

“I’m saying you’ve got the job.”

Since then, you and Lockwood had come to a sort of understanding: as long as George was safe you would do anything he asked. Any job, any task, no matter how dangerous. Still, that didn’t mean you would take his shit either, a fact he picked up on rather quickly, and though he never let you in completely, a trait that went both ways, he told you enough to gain your trust and you returned the favor. 

And so it went in the year before Lucy came. You weren’t friends, necessarily, but you knew at the end of the day he had your back, and in return, you had his.

Still, Lucy’s arrival made the waters more murky, as she went about breaking down walls like they were nothing. One night, Lockwood happened upon the pair of you in your shared bedroom, giggling like schoolgirls at a story from your youth, splayed out across the attic bed in identical fits of laughter and though you missed it, Lucy told you in a barely audible whisper that night of how his gaze had lingered on your scrunched up face. How his eyes had softened. How for a moment, the dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to vanish as he stood there in awe. Just a boy looking at a girl. No more, no less. 

“You should have seen his smile,” she whispered, her body turned to face yours beneath the covers of the queen. 

“Trust me I’ve seen the ‘Lockwood Smile’ more than enough in one year of acquaintanceship,” you huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes.

“No, no. It wasn’t like that. It was– He looked so–” She sat up then hands flying at the air as though they might grasp the words she was trying to say.

“He almost looked like a kid. So… unburdened. It was pretty disturbing actually.” She broke off with a laugh. “Look I can’t explain it, but it was like he was actually happy and not just using his dashing good looks to get whatever he desires.” You rolled your eyes at the final bit, but tucked the rest away deep within your heart, stashing it beside that single plum of hope from that very first day on his doorstep.

By the following morning the whole thing was nothing more than a distant memory. You stood, pouring yourself a coffee, watching George scribble away at his notes on your current case when, Lockwood slipped by, swiping the mug from right under your nose.

“That was for me.”

“Well, I pay for everything in this house.” He smirked from behind your steaming cup.

“You don’t even like coffee.” Without breaking eye contact, Lockwood took a long sip and physically incapable of suppressing his reaction scrunched his brow in disgust. Then, parting the drink from his lips he smiled.

“Delicious.”

“You’re such an ass, now I’m going to have to brew another pot.” He shrugged off your inconvenience and took the seat beside George at the table. After putting another pot on, you joined the pair, ditching your previous research in favor of etching your new mantra into the tablecloth. Anthony Lockwood is a pompous ass. Anthony Lockwood is a pompous ass.

“What have you got so far George?” Lockwood questioned, setting down the mug in his hand after just one more sip. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a Type One I think, probably a Lurker.” 

“Excellent, Luce and I should be able to handle that on our own.”

“Lucy? I’m sat right here.” You glared across the table, daring the coffee thief to disagree with you.

“Besides you know my swordsmanship is superior even if she is basically the Stephen Hawking of ghost hunting.”

“Which is why she needs the practice.”

“And there is a wonderful place for her to do so in the basement. Come on Lockwood, it’s like you won’t let me go anywhere since–”

“Since the last time when you acted like a bumbling idiot and almost got yourself maimed?”

“I had the situation completely under control.”

“You fell down a staircase.”

“You can’t keep me on house arrest for forever.” Lockwood groaned and drew a frustrated hand across his face.

“Fine, but if you screw up like that again I’m locking you in the archives with George myself.” With that he withdrew, coffee abandoned on the table. Dragging it towards your person you let out a deep huff.

“It’s like he doesn’t trust me at all.”

“Or maybe he just cares about you?” George suggested, but quickly averted his eyes following a threatening glare thrown in his direction.

It was late when you reached the house, later than you would have liked. Lockwood had forgotten his rapier, so you’d had to turn back, though you had a suspicion it was some sort of ploy to get you to stay home and let Lucy go instead. Still, you held your ground and remained patient. Well as patient as you could.

“Lockwood, what the fuck. You said this place was ten minutes away, that was a thirty-minute metro ride. Not to mention the fact that that man beside us was trying to look down my shirt the whole way here.” You shivered at the thought but continued to fix Lockwood with a glare as you spoke. Through your anger you almost missed the slight shift in his demeanor at the second comment.

“Well, we’re here now are we not? Besides, it’s only a Type One, we’ll be fine.” 

You were not fine. Within only a moment of stepping foot inside you felt the temperature drop dramatically.

“Lockwood–”

“I felt it too.” His face twisted into a more serious expression. Still, you continued inside to further assess the threat. Dropping your bags several feet inside the entryway, you crouched almost immediately to sift through them for the filings when from across the house, a shadowy figure flew by.

“(Y/N)--”

“One second, you did an absolute rubbish job of organizing the kit, I can’t find the filings anywhere.”

“(Y/N), really–” 

“I said just a second Lockwood–” But he cut you off by using two fingers to drag your chin upwards, fixing your gaze upon the glowing figure lying in wait across the room. 

“That is definitely not a Lurker.”

“No shi–” Lockwood was cut off as the ghost unleashed an unearthly scream, launching itself towards the pair of you. The boy beside you was quick to draw his blade and, tucking yourself into a small ball, you rolled deftly out of the way in an attempt to attack the Type Two from behind. Pulling your rapier from its sheath, you took a defensive position as Lockwood struck at the figure from in front. After causing the ghost to dissipate into thin air his eyes quickly sought yours out.

“We need to locate the Source. Now.” With a shared nod, the pair of you began to advance throughout the remainder of the house. Upon entering the kitchen, something caught your eye immediately.

“Lockwood, look.” You pointed your rapier in the direction of what appeared to be a hand carved cuckoo clock, hung high on the wall. “He was a clockmaker, right? That’s what the file said.” 

“That has to be it.” Lockwood nodded in agreement. Moving at a slow and measured pace, you advanced on the clock, before realization hit and you grabbed Lockwood by the arm. 

“The net–” You stopped short as a glow began to form in the upper corner of the kitchen.

“Go, I’ll handle it,” Lockwood ordered and with a final concerned glance in the direction of the ever-expanding light, you set off in a run down the hall. Distant clattering sounds informed you that the ghost had made its appearance in the other room, and you pushed forward harder, now at a sprint.

Skidding to a halt, you all but dumped out the entire bag of kit in your effort to locate the silver net, before grasping its cool material and spinning on your heel. Distantly, you thought you heard Lockwood call your name, though any reason as to why was beyond you until your eyes caught on the ghostly figure just before you. 

Easily dodging its first attempt to harm you, you slid past its grip and through the doorway to the hall. It followed close behind and as your feet pounded against the wood floor, you could feel the atmosphere around you grow colder by the second. Flying in a panicked fury through the doorway to the kitchen, you just managed to catch Lockwood’s eye before an unseen force threw you against the counter. Your head hit the marble edge. Hard. And in a single moment you crumbled to the ground.

All sound in the room became distant, including the noise of several items on the counter’s smooth surface being dislodged with your impact. And then, in a tone you’d never heard before, Lockwood’s voice cut through all the muffled, pounding noise. 

“(Y/N)!” Your head jerked up just in time to watch as the knife peeking out over the counter teetered over the edge. In a single moment of clarity, you angled your body towards the ground, clasping your head with your hands. A piercing pain laced your shoulder and you let out a scream. Distantly, you noticed Lockwood, backed into a corner, swinging wildly with his rapier, fear etched deep within his normally steady features. That was all it took.

Ignoring the sharp pounding of your head, you reached back to dislodge the knife, pulling it from the deep, now severely bleeding wound in your shoulder. It took most of your energy not to call out in pain at the action, but you knew it would only shift the ghost’s attention back to you. Dragging yourself across the floor, you snatched the net from the ground before using the wall to pull yourself up.

Three things happened at once then. Lockwood’s eyes fixed on you from behind the ghost, wide with concern and something else you couldn’t quite place. Simultaneously, your hand made contact with the clock, instantly alerting the ghost to your presence. Finally, the Type Two turned on you. 

In one fell movement, you wrenched the clock from the wall, just as the ghost launched itself in your direction and covered it with the net, the creature disappearing mere inches from your face. Lockwood took a breath. It was mesmerizing, though you couldn’t understand why, that moment of quiet. And then you began to sway.

“Lock–” But the name died in your throat as you began your descent towards the cold linoleum floor. You were out before you hit the ground, though not before you felt the comfort of two arms as they wrapped themselves around you, breaking your fall.

It had been two weeks and Lockwood could still barely look at you. By the time you awoke in the hospital, he was gone, though George and Lucy had stayed, tangled up with you in the hospital bed, a mess of sleeping limbs. Once they awoke, you questioned the pair on the absence.

“Where’s Lockwood?”

“Said he was too busy to wait for you to wake up,” mumbled George bitterly, but Lucy only chided the other boy.

“He was worried sick about you, really. It’s just, well you know. He’s Lockwood.” You smiled at Lucy’s words, but a seed of disappointment planted itself firmly in your gut.

Your arrival back at 35 Portland Row was not much better. Lockwood remained hidden away in the library as Lucy and George helped you through the door. 

And so, the first week continued. Wordless breakfasts in the kitchen, cold greetings in the hall. One time after you accidentally grazed his side in passing, he physically flinched away. 

On the eleventh day, you found yourself near tears with the behavior.

“I think he hates me, Lucy.”

“Lockwood could never hate you.”

It was day twelve of Lockwood’s one-sided standoff when you caught him in the kitchen alone near two in the morning.

“Could you make me a cup?” You’d questioned, coming up behind him to search the cupboard for some bread as he poured himself a cup of tea. Nothing. Not even a glance.

“Come on Lockwood, it’s been days, can you just drop it? I’m fine.” Still no response. No matter. You’d always known how to get a rise out of Anthony Lockwood.

Waiting until he’d set the kettle down to reach for some sugar, you moved quickly, sandwiching yourself between the counter and the boy. For the first time in days, his eyes met yours, though he dismissed the moment with a quick huff and reached once more for the cabinet above your head. You gave him a shove.

“Fuck you Lockwood, talk to me.” His eyes glinted in a warning, but he made no effort to speak. He didn’t move a muscle. You shoved him harder. 

“Talk to me you prick.” He caught your wrists in his hands as you pulled back for another shove and gripped them tightly.

“Say something!” As you struggled against him to give one final push, your shoulder caught at an odd angle and the searing pain from your still healing wound nearly sent you crumpling to the ground. Nearly. As you began to curl in on yourself, Lockwood removed his hands from your wrists and caught you by the waist.

“You’re going to reopen the gash on your shoulder.” He chided, his tone cold, but his arms continued to hold you in place.

“I know that you hate me. And that’s fine. But this– The silence, it’s too much… It hurts too much.”

“You’re an idiot. You acted recklessly and without forethought. You could have died. You could have gotten yourself killed–”

“I was just–”

“I’m not finished,” he continued, his hold on you tightening, “you jeopardized the entire mission with your actions–”

“I saved your life!”

“I had it under control–”

“Oh, like I did with the staircase?”

“I should never have brought you.”

“Because you hate me? Yeah, I know.”

“Because you are nothing but a distraction.” You froze. Body rigid in his hold. He pushed on.

“Because all I could think about the entire time we were in that house was you. If you were safe, if you were– if you were alive.” One of Lockwood’s hands traveled carefully from your waist to your cheek.

“It’s all I’ve been able to think about since the staircase. It’s why I couldn’t bear to go on any missions with you, it’s why I nearly made you George’s bloody research assistant, it’s why– it’s why I nearly fell apart when I watched you hit that oven– when I saw that knife about too–” 

You could hear his breaths becoming labored and his grip tightened once more as his eyes clouded with the anxiety of distant memories.

“Hey. I’m fine.” You reassured him, bringing a hand up to caress his face. “I’m okay, really.”

“I think I’m– I care about you, so much it hurts.”

And there it was, the boyish face Lucy had seen that night in the attic. Young and afraid. Completely unguarded. You really couldn’t help kissing him.

Bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand, you pulled his lips down to meet yours, and though surprise initially stilled his mouth, he quickly pulled you closer, kissing deeper, pressing forward to meet you. His hand curled gently in your hair, his other arm pulling you closer, closer, as though if he loosened his grip, you would simply slip away. You only pulled back to catch your breath though you could barely convince yourself to do that much as his lips followed after yours, looking to meet again.

“I love you too Anthony Lockwood.”

[rafesfavoritegirl]

where currents collide

chapter 2: escape

𓂃⋆.˚ Viv, John B’s younger sister, just wants to escape the chaos of the pogues for a little while, after John B decided she can't come to a Kook party. After a night of tension and betrayal, she seeks some peace on her own, but it’s never that simple when you’re surrounded by the Pogues. What starts as a quiet moment alone on the beach turns into something unexpected when old wounds and new faces collide.

word count 1.1k

Content Warning: Mild language, emotional conflict, sibling dynamics, mentions of substance use, and tension-filled situations.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of family trauma (loss of a parent), emotional distress, mild substance use (marijuana), and moments of secrecy and betrayal.

As I watched everyone leave the house, I accepted defeat with humility. They were always going to perceive me as a little girl. I was disappointed in Jj most of all. He never used to choose sides. But now, knowing how he really felt, it stung to realize he was just like the rest of them. It all left me mentally and physically drained, pushing me to take a nap and escape for a little while from everything that had happened.

༄ ༄ ༄

I woke up feeling dehydrated, still unsettled by everything that had occurred earlier tonight. In an effort to clear my head, I decided to build a bonfire. I do not often get the house to myself, so I figured it was the perfect chance. Stepping into the yard, I spotted the hammock that Jj, John B, and I had put up when we were kids, still hanging from the tree. I grabbed some extra firewood to revive the ashes from the bonfire a couple nights before and headed back inside for a lighter, my phone, and my headphones.

Once I was back in the yard, I started to light the fire. When the flames finally caught, I settled into the hammock, slipped in my earbuds, and blasted my favorite playlist. The cool breeze brushed against my face, and for a moment, I realized maybe it wasn't so bad to have missed out on the chaos of tonight.

Just as I started to get comfortable in the silence combined with the arguments that happened previously, I did not hear the infamous sound of the half-broken twinkie entering the front yard, muffled by the music still in my ears. Once settled in, they made their way into the backyard, and suddenly, I could not ignore the look on their faces. They sat down, unintentionally crashing my bonfire, their eyes landing on me in my relaxed state.

"See? Told you staying home wouldn't kill you," John B said with a smug grin, clearly pleased with himself.

It only fueled my internal anger, making it burn even deeper. How could they sit there, knowing I was still upset? No apology, just laughing and reminiscing about the greatest night they have ever had, like nothing was wrong. Seeing my best friends ignore my existence, continuing to smile and laugh while I sat there in utter silence.

Hearing them all talk over one another, what caught my attention was Kie's voice: "Dude, when Jj brought the gun! I swear we were gonna get arrested," she said, and the rest of them laughed, agreeing with her.

I pulled off my headphones, cutting in. "Wait, what gun? What happened?" I asked, concern and curiosity creeping into my voice.

Kie dismissed me with a casual wave. "It was nothing," she said, laughing as she spun around, her back turned to me once again.

That was it. I stood up abruptly, my frustration boiling over. "Fuck this," I muttered, walking off without another word.

I headed to my room, shutting the door behind me, and sat down. For a moment, I just stared at the wall, my mind racing, trying to figure out what to do next. It took a moment, the silence giving me too much space to think.

༄ ༄ ༄

The bright white full moon shined through my window, and suddenly, an idea sparked. I needed to get to the beach—just to clear my head. I knew everyone was asleep by now, either in the living room or in John B's room, given the lack of space in our house.

That thought reminded me of how I would get there? The idea hit me out of nowhere, like a sudden rush of clarity. I could just take Jj's weed and the keys to his dirt bike. I needed a way to get out—escape, even if just for a little while—and the bike would get me to the beach in no time. Jj would not even notice, right? It was not like he was gonna miss it tonight, or even notice it was gone. Fixating on the thought, I convinced myself I would be back in time.

I knew where he kept everything—he always kept his stash of marijuana in that jar on the communal nightstand, and the keys to his bike were usually tossed carelessly on the dresser. I could not even explain why I was doing it, but it felt like the only way to get some space.

With that thought in mind, I quietly crept toward his room, my heart racing, but my mind set on the plan. I quietly opened Jj's door and paused for a moment, glancing at him as he slept, admiring how peaceful and cute he looked. A rush of guilt hit me—doing this behind his back felt wrong, but I could not shake what he had done. I knew he would be furious if he found out, but I had to go through with it. I tiptoed over to the drawer, quickly sorting through his mess, finding condoms and loose jewellery, until I found his dirt bike keys, weed and rolling paper. I left the house swiftly, starting up the bike, the engine roaring to life. I glanced back at the worn-down house, checking the window to see if I had woken anyone up. Coast clear. I grabbed the items I needed, then rushed out of his room, with everything at hand, I knew there was no turning back now.

༄ ༄ ༄

The moon reflected off the blue ocean as I parked the bike and made my way down to the beach—the same one the Pogues had visited not too long ago during their rioting. A few kooks were still hanging around, but I paid them no mind. I spread out my blanket and got ready to roll up.

I sat there, the mix of marijuana and saltwater breeze filling the air. For the first time in a while, I felt at peace, the worn-down headphones that I had earlier playing softly as I drifted into a stoned calm.

The kooks from when I had first arrived were packing up. Their infamous jeeps slowly rolled off the beach, and a part of me did not care, but another part felt relieved to be completely alone now—no talking, no people. Just silence.

That was until I saw a tall, shadowy figure making its way toward me. I did not think much of it, assuming they would just pass by. But then, without warning, the figure sat next to me. I was confused—though, in my stoned state, it did not register right away. I glanced to my right and froze. It was none other than Rafe Cameron.

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[johnwickb1tsch]

Excessive Force : a Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE AMAAAZING @treedaddymcpuffpuff 😘😘😘) - Chapter FOURTEEN ---> (all chapters)

trigger warnings: mention of police shooting, child trafficking, past childhood trauma, abuse, etc. plz take care!

“Are you serious?!” You have to move the phone away from your ear to avoid a blown drum from Sheila’s screech. 

“Yup.”

“Okay, why don’t you sound as excited as me?” 

“I’m nervous. He’s really forward. And, I haven’t been on a date in forever.” That didn’t end horribly… You’ve decided not to count the fiasco with Julian. You’re in your room, fingering through the limited collection of nice clothes in your closet. You briefly debate wearing a turtleneck and thick linen pants just to piss him off. But, also, there’s that little sundress you bought at the mall that you’ve never gotten a chance to wear… The pretty, soft color would pair very nicely with your silky cream bra and panty set—that you also have never worn. You’re starting to re-think the whole not being a prude thing. 

Plus, it’s hot outside.

Sheila pulls you from your search. “Listen, if he tries anything, just kick him in the dick. Works every time.”

“He’s like eight feet tall. I don’t know if I can reach his dick… with my feet.” 

You both giggle. 

“That’s why they make step stools.” 

“Like, for that exact reason?” 

Sheila’s one of those people that has proven to be supportive. You met her on a bus tour your first week in LA and have been buddies ever since. It works perfectly since you both have hectic work schedules and don’t really expect anything from the other one. She calls you for drinks, you call her for lunch. Sympatico. 

“Obviously. So, he’s tall. Is he hot?” 

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth when you think back to his bare, bruised body on your exam table, those mile long, strong thighs that caged you in and felt more like they belonged to an Amazon Boa rather than a man. 

“Okay, that silence either means hell yes or hell no, so which is it?” You hear the grin in Sheila’s voice.

“First one.” 

You end up telling her about his persistent hospital visits, him pulling you over, maybe omitting some—okay, no, a lot of the details just so she doesn’t want to kill him just yet. You also haven’t told her about the Julian debacle–or that Tom basically rescued you. 

You also leave out that he just happens to be the new superhero on every news channel right now. You’re still processing that yourself, and it’s not boding well for you keeping your cool with this man. 

As it turned out, it was the news that informed you of Officer Tom Ludlow’s whereabouts those lonely night’s you’d missed him harassing you on that lonely stretch of highway. He wasn’t ignoring you. He was rescuing two teenage girls who had been kidnapped and trafficked by a gang. According to the report, Ludlow had entered the house after hearing a cry for help, alone, and gunned down every single one of the gangbangers before setting the girls free.  

Parts of this story should have alarmed you, but there had been a time in your past when you would have given anything for a person of authority to ride to your rescue, red tape be damned. How many times had the cops come to your house for a domestic disturbance between your parents, and left you in a bad situation because of some legal technicality or another? How had they seen you, scared and dirty, cowering in the doorway, and left you behind? The horrors you could have told them, if only they’d cared to ask without your parents there to overhear and threaten you, but every time until the last time, they’d just left you in the hellhole that had been your childhood home.   

How different your life—your sister’s lives—would have been if you had a Thomas Ludlow back then.

The twin girls’ MISSING posters and billboards were all over the city. Most anyone with the power to do something had given up on them as a lost cause, just another sad story, written them off as tragically probably dead in a gutter, but not Ludlow. Ludlow had risked his neck (and possibly his badge, because you’d heard of the old “I heard a cry for help” trick to gain entry, and it was almost always code for “I didn’t have a warrant, what are you going to do about it?”, to get them out, and goddammit if that didn’t just warm you to your toes and soften your heart.

Worse yet, you feel like the biggest asshole for calling him a fraud, to his face, the night after it all went down. He’d just taken it on the chin, and he still asked you out. 

Ok, he technically extorted you, but it just doesn’t feel as sinister now as it had last night. He’d been bold, and borderline needy for some human tenderness, and fuck if you didn’t understand all too well why now. 

Now, rather than having to keep yourself from tearing him a new one, you were afraid you were going to have to restrain yourself from crawling into his lap at the first opportunity, and fucking his brains out for being such a goddamed hero. 

“Oh, he’s a freak!” Despite saying this, she sounds like she’s twirling her hair and kicking her feet. 

You snort. “He’s got..uh…nice hands.” 

You decide on the sundress and the bra-panty set, but you don’t bother laying them out in preparation, because you’re still telling yourself that this isn’t that big of a deal and you’re not that invested and that if Tom Ludlow kisses you, you won’t burst into flames.

You want to take a bath, leave some scent of those seldom used lavender lemon oils lingering on your skin, but decide against it. 

No. Actually. You’re doing it. Taking a nice,  warm, spiced soak, rubbing lotion over every piece of you except the very sensitive bits, shimmying into the undergarments. The panties end up being cheekier than you like, but your butt looks cute, and the dress covers everything pretty good, anyway—well, everything that matters. 

After putting your hair up in a messy bun and throwing some mascara on, you’re ready for—actually, who the fuck are you kidding, you are the opposite of ready. Borderline panicking at the thought of this man coming to pick you up and taking you out and putting on his lewd charm and ruining this cute underwear. 

By the time he buzzes downstairs, it’s too late to decide on another pair of shoes. You have to live with sandals—with the fact that he might just look down and get a full, unfiltered view of your toes curling when he opens his pretty mouth. 

You’re totally fucked, here. 

You think it again when you open the door, finding his lean form all in black, leaning on the wall with his hands in his pockets and his full bottom lip between his teeth, like he’s already thinking about eating you up. You literally feel it as his eyes look you up and down, from your messy bun to your pink painted toes. It’s been two seconds, and already you are soaked between your thighs. 

Doomed. You are just fucking doomed, and a part of you is just ready to surrender, because it takes so much goddamn energy to fight your attraction to this man. You can feel it like live electricity crackling over your skin. 

Of course, there’s that other part of you that wants to run right back up those stairs and lock yourself away from this gorgeous devil.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Your mouth opens to reply, but your brain takes a few seconds to catch up, utterly short circuited by how ridiculously handsome he is in his black button down, his dark pants belted low on his hips, those big feet in black boots. It’s a little strange, seeing him without his badge or his gun on his hip–but you can work with this. 

“Hi,” you answer, scathingly clever as ever. 

“Ready to go?” 

You’d brought down your purse, to avoid inviting him into the private sanctuary that is your little shoebox of an apartment, but now you almost regret it. 

“Yeah. Where are we going?” You step out the door, but he doesn’t move back, relishing your close proximity with a smirk. But there is a new softness in his brown eyes as he looks down at you that makes you a little weak in your knees. He reaches up to touch your cheek, feather light, and it boggles your mind how this man can be such a beast, and yet so gentle when he wants to be. 

“You’ll see.” You narrow your eyes at him, but for once, it’s more playful than fueled by annoyance. “Relax,” he says, his shapely mouth dancing as he suppresses a smile. “You’re in good hands, honey.” 

You don’t even flinch, as he drives this final nail into your coffin, the wave of desire inspired by the thought of those oh-so-capable hands and what they just might do to you tonight buzzing down your spine. This is how you die–you are strangely, almost, ok with it. 

When he has you safely ensconced in the passenger seat of his sleek black Charger you look over at him, his long arm draped over the wheel as he navigates the hostile environment of LA traffic like a shark patrolling a reef. “So…I saw you on the news last night.”

He lifts one of those dark brows, though his expression remains otherwise unreadable. “Haven’t really looked at what they’re saying,” he admits, like he’s used to the media getting the details wrong towards their own ends. 

“They said that you saved two underaged girls that were being traffiked?”

His mouth turns down, and you wonder if you’ve killed the happy vibe of the evening so soon with your nosy questions. But then again–you need to know. It’s a gnawing curiosity in your gut not just for the events that transpired, but the man who orchestrated them. Who you are currently alone in a car with, so you reason you have a right to know.

“Yeah,” he simply answers, not keen to crow his own praises. 

“And you…killed all those guys?”

He gives a sigh that seems to come from the bottom of his soul. You sense a weariness in him that he’s never shown on the outside before. 

“Yeah.” A long silence draws out between you, before he adds, “They were very bad dudes, y/n. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

You can’t exactly say that you’re not–but ironically, the news of him shooting down those gangsters really has nothing to do with it.   

“I’m not. I mean–if they were abusing those girls, then they deserved it.”

He looks you over then, an appraising look as though you’ve given him some new information about your character. Maybe information you didn’t exactly mean to give away, but it’s out there now. He’s going think you’re a kindred spirit–or a blood thirsty gremlin. 

Either way, you don’t really want to discuss why you sympathize with those girls, and with him. 

“Are you okay?”

This question seems to take him aback, like he truly wasn’t expecting it. He’s surely used to being a pillar of stoic manhood, but you know this shit takes its toll. “Yeah. I’m fine, sweetheart. Thanks.”

You eye his hand resting on the center console, and a part of you very badly wants to reach out to him and take it. Almost as though he can sense it, or maybe because he wants it as badly as you do, he holds out his hand palm up in invitation. It’s possible you stare at that hand for a beat too long, his wide calloused palm and long blunt fingers. Long enough that he tries to play it off, starting to take it back, before you quickly lace your fingers with his. The way he smiles to himself sends warmth blooming all the way to your toes, and you’re glad he’s driving because they do, indeed, curl in your sandals. 

You give him a little squeeze, relishing the way your hand feels so tiny and protected in his own, and say, genuinely, “I’m sorry. For calling you a fake cop.” 

He clicks his tongue. “I’ve heard worse from people that aren’t half as pretty as you.” 

You want to fight with him on that—scoff, roll your eyes—but you just can’t, because as much as that small, whiny part of your brain tells you he’s lying, the bigger, rational part absolutely knows just by the sincerity in his tone that he thinks you really are a pretty, sublime creature. 

“But I still kinda think you’re a jerk,” you half tease. 

“Mmmm, what happened to that feisty little thing I know? She change into a cute sundress and suddenly become sweet?” 

You are loathe to admit the real reason for your change of heart. 

“You wish.” 

He chuckles. “Bet I can make you sweet.” 

You’re a total idiot for what comes out of your mouth, and your underwear is the one that will more than likely end up paying for this mindless insolence. “How?”

He brings your hand up to his mouth, lips brushing over the thin skin of your knuckles, sending a spear of desire through your arm and into the rest of your body. You make a tiny choked noise when his tongue peeks a taste of your skin, going unfocused and fuzzy, radio static and full throttle cavewoman. 

He kisses the center of your hand, then murmurs, “With sugar, silly girl.” 

It's not only the panties that pay a high price, but also your throbbing heart, pleasantly tense and hot and full of desire. 

He must find your slack jaw and blank stare immensely entertaining, because he’s laughing low and soft, rumbling in delight. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

“I’m fine.” There has never been a more heinous lie uttered in this entire state. 

You’re fairly new to LA, but you soon realize from your surroundings that he’s taking you to the Santa Monica Pier. 

You are thanking the universe and the gods when you arrive at your destination. Five more minutes—hell, seconds—trapped in that car with him and you would have climbed into his lap and started barking. 

When he swings into a parking space designated just for Law Enforcement you turn to him with a lifted brow, as though to say, Abuse your authority much? 

But you already know the answer to that. This date is a product of it. And so far…it’s not so bad. 

“Do you like fish tacos?” He asks, keeping your hand and massaging that bulky thumb over your wrist.

“Shouldn’t you have asked that before you made a reservation?” you taunt him. 

“No reservation,” he informs you with a quirk of his mouth. “But the manager owes me a favor.” 

He waves around the busy avenue and beach walk bustling with people, peppered with colorful shops and restaurants of every kind. “Pretty sure we can find you something you like, if Mexican food with an ocean view isn’t your thing…” He says it with a smirk, and you’re seriously not sure if you want to kiss this man or smack him. Maybe both, but save it for later, sings out the little devil on your shoulder before you can tell it to shut the fuck up. 

Good lord. 

You’ve heard of the restaurant–and that it’s famously hard to get into. You wonder if his connection is a product of a favor for a good deed, or a bit of blackmail. Maybe a little bit of both. You’re finding more and more that it’s hard to put this man in a single box. 

“Honestly…?” You make him wait for it, and you can tell your effort to put this confident man on the spot only half succeeds, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “That sounds pretty amazing.”

This evil, evil gentleman. He opens your door for you, helps you out of the car, stands patiently while you fix your dress, only half looks at your exposed thighs before you pull the hem down and cover them up again. 

Then, he threads his arm with yours and leads you onto the pier. You can’t believe you’ve never taken the initiative to come here before. It’s beautiful, lit up like a modern carnival of neon lights. 

“Oh, can we go on the Ferris wheel?” You ask, looking up at him. 

“Let’s get some food in you, and then we can do whatever you want.” He really needs to stop being so…caring. It’s seriously starting to mess up your insides. 

You turn into a fascinated kid as you walk down the salt coated slice of wood built out over the ocean, looking this and that way, pointing things out, mentioning possible after-dinner activities. You feel like you’re getting annoying, but Tom just seems amused by your sunburned tourist behavior. 

You pass by a little shooting booth with huge stuffed bunnies hanging from the rack, and he must see the way you’re ogling them, so he leans down close to your ear. “I could win you one of those?”

You grin back up at him. “I can win you one.” 

“Oh? Little sharpshooter?” 

It sounds like he doesn’t believe you, so you stick your tongue out at him between smiling lips. 

He pokes your forehead in retaliation. “Anybody ever tell you how fucking cute you are?” 

The restaurant lives up to its popularity and then some. It takes a while to get here, but you just know it’s worth every foot blister when they sit you down and immediately serve a popped bottle of iced sparkling water and delicious, warm salsa and chips. 

You made it just in time to catch the purple orange sun sinking below ocean level, and the front row seats really just make the view that much more spectacular. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if a dolphin jumped from the water, illuminated by the dying sun, just like in the movies.  

“This is… amazing.” You grab some tortilla chips to munch on while he pours you both glasses of the fancy water. “Have you ever been here before?” 

“Once.” He doesn’t elaborate, so you don’t want to push the issue, but you can tell there’s some kind of ache behind that simple word. 

“Okay, so you’re obviously not from LA—where are you from?” He leans over the table a bit, curious. 

“Kansas.” 

He opens his mouth, but you stop him because you already know what he’s going to say. 

“Don’t do it.” You point a warning finger at him, giggling like an idiot. 

“God, but I really want to,” he groans. 

“So,” you say, taking another bite of chip. “Why did you become a cop?”

“You start with the heavy questions, huh?” he teases you. “Thought I was the one who was trained in interrogation?”

You suppose he’s right, considering your earlier line of inquiry in the car. But you shrug in response. Considering how you ended up here, you see no reason to tiptoe around things. “Just curious.”

He offers up an easy smile, letting you know you didn’t offend him. “Well, I actually always wanted to be a dentist.”

You snort with disbelief, trying to imagine this man’s bedside manner. But then, dentists do get to cause people a lot of pain… “Ok. Maybe that tracks.”

“I’m fucking with you,” he informs you with a smirk. 

You do your best to appear annoyed, and fear you fail at it badly. “Guess it’s not hard to imagine you pulling teeth, is all.”

He huffs at that. “I always wanted to be a cop, since I was a kid. My old man was a detective. Killed in the line of duty. I guess I felt like I needed to pick up his unfinished business.”

You blink at that. You and your big fucking mouth. “I’m sorry,” you say, reaching for his hand across the table. He curls his fingers with yours, playing with your aqua painted fingernails with his thumb.

“It’s alright. Happened a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

You squeeze his hand in yours, saying nothing. 

“What about you? What made you want to be a nurse?” 

You don’t really feel comfortable enough to tell him your whole coming-of-nurse story, so you give him the cut version: “when I was young and felt like I had no one, a nurse comforted me.”

“How young?”

“Ten.”

He winces. “Maybe I’ll get the full version of that story one day?”

There’s an epiphany, here, in this little restaurant with the comfy blue chairs, and it’s that Tom Ludlow scares you because he makes you feel something deep, deep inside your chest that you can’t even remember being there before he came along. Julian was easy, child’s play; although it stings, you’re writing him down as just another failed fling. You know if Ludlow gets his hands on your little sensitive heart, it will be a very different story. 

You take a big drink of water to wash down the salty crunch. “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Being so…cold.”

He chuckles. “Oh, you are so cold. Gonna have to make it up to me.”

Warmth floods the top layers of your skin. “I already said I’d win you the bunny.”

You’re amazed at how easily he can transition back into a smooth, carnal beast. “I don’t know if that’s enough for me to forgive you.” The fake hurt in his tone should not make you squirm in your seat. 

You bite like a dumb, good little fish should: “okay, then, how do I make it up to you, Officer Ludlow?” 

You’re hoping to faze him with the sultry innocence of your tone, but it just fuels his devilish aura instead. “We can start with me turning you over my knee.”

You don’t have a retort, but your vagina absolutely does, and she gets you squirming in your seat. 

He leans forward, knowing smile sure to be your undoing one way or another. “Would you like that?” 

“Thought you didn’t want to hurt me?” You challenge, trying to keep cool despite the blazing Ludlow heat. 

“Who says spanking has to hurt? Dr. Bitch?”

You can’t help the giggle that rolls out of you, and he seems to find it entertaining that you have to cover your mouth to hide it. “No, Tom, believe it or not, I am a grown woman who has lived an experienced life.” 

“And how was it?”

You tilt your head. “What?”

“You know, when you asked one of your vanilla boyfriends to swat that gorgeous, plump ass a little bit? Just to see how it would feel.” He leans his chin on his palm, listening intently for your answer, and you think you might be on your way to spontaneous combustion. 

How in the fuck can he just hit the nail right on the head like that? Know about parts of your life that you haven’t shared with anyone—not that there were many to share with. Are you really this readable? 

Once again, he has your sharp tongue dulled with arousal and embarrassment, and you shift in the chair. “He did it, like, once and then stopped.” 

“And did you like it?” He presses. 

“Yes.” 

He takes a little sip of his water, raising both dark brows over the glass at you. “Good to know.” 

Tom recommends the margaritas and fish tacos, so you let him order for the both of you while admiring the view. You can’t decide which one you like better, his handsome face or the ocean scape.

As you are finishing your delicious dinner the last rays of the sunset are putting on a five star show for you, the sky painted that impossible deep blue and purple, the water shimmering like color-changing opals.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you sigh, and you catch him looking at you out of the corner of your eye with a softness you haven’t seen from him before. You get up the courage to meet his eyes, and he smiles at you, but for once not like he intends to eat you.

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, sweetheart.”

“Goddammit.”

He laughs at that, a real belly laugh that makes you warm all over even without the aid of your two nursed margaritas. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to out shoot you for that little bunny now.” 

This wins you more genuine laughter. “Alright, Annie Oakley. Lead the way.” 

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven not Forgotten | Part 5

Two years.

Two whole years in that void.

Two years of his life. Gone. And he remembered none of it.

He didn’t even have time to ask questions either, because the moment the words “what happened?” left his lips, someone was pushing to get into the room.

“Everyone not involved with the Hawkins incident, I want you out of this room immediately.” A badge was flashed before the officials could argue, and a woman, unfamiliar to Eddie, but clearly having been through the ringer herself missing an arm and sporting one hell of a scar over the left side of her face, pushed her way through. “That means you officers, out.”

They didn’t argue, both leaving without question. Government.

“Stinson?” Steve was the first to identify her, while the others just looked on in surprise “you’re alive? Is Owens—”

“Despite the real effort those things put in to make it otherwise, yes. I’m here. Owens is permanently wheelchair bound but he’s okay. Mr and Mrs Harrington” She nodded to the two in the back, Steve’s parents holy shit. Okay. “I’ll allow you to stay on account of the fact that I don’t know what you’ve been told already. Mr Thompson, I thank you for your attendance however the government will take over from here. You’re not needed.” ‘Harold’ took one look at the Harringtons, then another to the men waiting outside the door, and chose wisely.

“Sorry John, government. I’m way over my head here.” He uttered, before making his quiet exit.

“I’m never hiring him again.” John sighed with a roll of his eyes, while Lynda stared Stinson down with an air of contempt.

“As if you could make us lea—"

“I’m the government, Mrs Harrington, I absolutely could have you removed. Now—” she turned back to the kids “I’ve already spoken with Hopper and the others, this… this issue is more important than their involvement. I know you don’t want to sign them, I know you have every right to tell the government to go fuck itself, I would too in your situation.” She rummaged through her bag, it took a little more effort than it would have normally given the missing other arm, but she made do, producing a folder from within. She placed it on the bed and opened it. A stack of NDA’s. “The government are prepared to clear Mr. Munson’s name, completely, without it ever going to trial, we have a number of names to take the fall for it, all perfectly believable with fabricated eye witnesses, but they only do this, if these are signed.”

“Are you blackmailin—” John spoke up, only to be cut off by the woman with a stern glare.

“Yes. Yes I am. I would rather not be. Listen, they will throw Mr. Munson under the bus, without hesitation, he’s the easiest person to pin this on as the story is already out there and people already believe it. You want their help, it needs to be a two way street. They are prepared to completely clear Munson’s name, and pin the crimes on someone else, they are prepared to create false witnesses, they’re even offering money. What you know is worth millions, and they will pay it to keep you quiet, but if you do not sign these… the second he’s cleared for release, he goes to jail for the murders of Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney, and the attempted murder of Maxine Mayfield. You sign them, he leaves with you, a free man. His name will be publicly cleared by the days end. We’ll even make a hero out of him.”

“He is a hero” Dustin argued, a frown on his face.

“Exactly, I agree. The public don’t though. They will when we’re done with them. We need you to sign these” She looked at the Harringtons. “All of you. I’ll leave you with these and wait outside, call me back in when you’ve made your decision.” And with that, she walked out unhindered, leaving them all struck silent.

Until Steve moved. He grabbed the folder first, picking up the pen.

“Steve” Eddie started before anyone else could.

“You’re not going to jail, Eddie. I don’t give a fuck. It’s one piece of paper to sign and honestly who’d believe us if we told anyone anyway? Monsters running or flying through town killing people? Evil vines putting slugs in dead people, spores that kill shit, toxic air? Other dimensions? We’d be called insane, they’d probably class it as a mass hallucination from a gas leak or some shit, they’d put us all in the looney bin the second we opened our mouths. They’re offering to clear your name, and all we have to do is sign some stupid piece of paper. So I’m signing it.”

It was signed before anyone could stop him. And being legally an adult, it was binding. He passed the folder to Dustin, who while not legally an adult, signed it anyway. Then, both young men turned to the adults.

“Steven…”

“Sign it. Sign it and he’s cleared. These people don’t mess around, mom. No doubt the others have already signed. I get you don’t think it’s right, really I do, but—”

“Give it here, son.” John stepped forward and took the offered folder and pen, and was about to sign on the dotted line when—

“Good heavens, at least read it, John” Lynda took the folder from him, eyes on the document, skimming the lines on the page for anything that could fuck them over. “…Oh, give me the damn pen” she took that too, quickly scribbling her signature on her own before passing it back to her husband to sign. “The nerve of these people. This is blatant blackmail. Did he even—was he ever even guilty? Of anything?”

“No, he wasn’t. Unfortunate case of wrong place wrong time… twice. As unbelievable as that is.” Steve sighed, a huge feeling of relief washing over him. Eddie would be okay. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t going to jail, he’d be fine. This incredibly stupid boy would be okay. “He’ll need a place to stay, Wayne’s—"

Eddie was sat up in an instant, his body complaining but he ignored it “Where’s Wayne? Is he okay? Is he safe? Is he—"

“Whoa whoa, big guy,” Dustin was quick to his side, a hand on his shoulder to steady him as that heart monitor went wild “calm down, Wayne’s okay, he got out before the barricades went up. We don’t know exactly where he went, but we’ll find him, okay? It just might take a bit of time.”

“In the meantime, he can stay with us.” All three sets of eyes turned to John Harrington as he closed the folder, holding it in one hand, Lynda smiling beside him, apparently content with the idea “Our current house only has two bedrooms, but we’ll make do until we can arrange to purchase something larger. I assume Miss Buckley will be staying too until we can find her parents. It’ll be a full house, might be a bit cramped, but we’ll manage. I’ve been stuck in stuffy boardrooms with more people for hours on end, and we hated each other. It’ll be okay.”

“I… dunno, is that—” Steve hesitated, of course Steve hesitated, Eddie didn’t blame him, they barely knew each other. Sure they had shared trauma but that didn’t really mean much between complete strangers. “I mean—” Steve looked at him “will you be comfortable? Staying with… with me?” and wasn’t that just the weirdest question Steve could have asked him.

“Dude… shouldn’t I be asking you that? I’m the freak here, why wouldn’t I be—sure! I’m fine with that, I mean, stranger things have happened, right?”

“Heh, right… if—if you’re sure it won’t make you uncomfortable or anything…”

“A jester in a palace, hanging out with a king, my my, how in the world could I be uncomfortable with that?” He smiled, wide, teasing, his cheeks dimpled as Steve rolled his eyes with obvious fondness.

Lynda grabbed her husbands’ arm subtly, taking his attention just long enough for her to utter the word “Dimples” at him while Dustin kept the others attention with his complaining about Steve getting to stay with Eddie. Steve immediately firing back with the fact that Dustin was staying too until they could find Claudia and not to be dumb.

He looked down at her with a small frown, then back at Eddie, realisation dawning on him just as quickly as it did his wife.

“Dimples.”

Part 7

[darlingmbappe]

Of the Unfaithful Kind | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: Suspicious circumstances cause your boyfriend to spiral, and in efforts to forget what he witnessed, he seeks retaliation in a malicious way. Based on this request.

Warnings: Slight smut (nothing too graphic), angst, descriptions of cheating, mentions of the death of a parent, cussing, crying, spoiler -> no happy ending. Let me know if I missed anything! There will be no part two – English is not my first language –

Masterlist

There was nowhere left to check. Nowhere left to look for your boyfriend who’s walking around somewhere, probably with visible fumes steaming out of his ears and breathing fire.

From the second he walked in on you in an unfortunate position, his calls were going directly to voicemail. Your texts were going ignored. His location was turned off. You’d be angry at his lack of communication if the situation didn’t look so suspicious, and yes. You totally understand why he stormed out of your office, tires screeching away before you could reach him. You yelled and begged for him to please just let you explain… That it wasn’t what it looked like. It truly wasn’t.

There weren’t many things you and Ky didn’t talk about. Ranging from the size of your poop that morning to deep insecurities you swore to take to the grave. It was a healthy relationship. So, naturally, everything was okay to talk about… everything except for Gordon.

Gordon was your ex boyfriend. You met him when you began working at your current job, but the relationship really only lasted about four months before you called it quits. When you broke it off, you both agreed to be civil, seeing as you’d still be working together. It was obvious he was still into you, and his flirty nature and constant communication with you lit a fiery rage inside of Kylian.

This jealousy wasn’t completely unreasonable, given the fact that his romantic remarks weren’t left unnoticed or subtle. After a handful of fights with your boyfriend of two years, you both decide it’d be best to draw some boundaries with your coworker and to never mention his name in front of him… and so you did. You asked Gordon to only contact you with work related information, and even if Gordon told you the juiciest gossip you’ll ever hear in your entire life, those six letters that made up his name were not to leave your mouth. Not in front of Kylian.

When Kylian made his way up to your office to pick you up, his feet sore and his mind exhausted from training, all he wanted was to get you both back to his house, draw a bath, then fall asleep on your chest. His plans went to hell, of course, as he wasn’t expecting to see what he did.

You stood in front of Gordon, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he swayed you both back and forth. Your hand rubbed his back soothingly, a gesture that was supposed to be reserved for only him. The way Gordon’s face was comfortably placed on top of your head… the way his arms grasped you so tightly… everything about the scene in front of him made him want to throw up. Even when you looked up and met his eyes, your stare frozen as you stepped away from the embrace, he felt nothing. He had gone numb.

You sprinted after him as soon as he took off, leaving Gordon without even a second thought. It was funny to even think that you could possibly catch up to him, his award-winning pace leaving you in the dust, panting, your throat sore from screaming at him to wait. To let you explain.

That was three hours ago.

“Fuck.” You grumbled, leaving the vacant Parc des Princes, no sign of Kylians car. The amount of money you’d wasted on Ubers today didn’t even matter. Not even a little bit. You didn’t know where else to go except back to his home.

He had to be there by now, you thought. He had to.

Alas, it was also empty. You weren’t past waiting for him there, ready to sleep on the ottoman facing the front door until he came home. All you wanted to do was find him and tell him that you would never cheat. You would never do that to him, not in a million years.

Kylian drove around Paris, blasting music with a tense jaw and a racing mind. He couldn’t wash the image of you and Gordon in your office with bleach if he tried. It’s like it had gotten tattooed on the back of his eyelids, haunting him whenever he blinked. He was far from insecure, he knew your relationship was strong. He trusted you. He’s trusted you and you went off and threw it all away for someone you claimed you were never compatible with. How could he have gotten you so wrong? His wondering only added fuel to the fire, gripping the steering wheel so tightly he felt that it might snap in half.

His mind wandered to a couple hours earlier after training, before he saw what he saw…

“Kylian, you up for some clubbing tonight?” Catrina asked from down the trophy hall. She was the friend of Marco Verratti’s wife and a model who loved making sure everyone knew she was hot shit.

Kylian’s seen her around multiple times. Blonde, British, and very forward. She tagged along with his teammate and his wife pretty frequently to keep Laura company while Marco did his thing at dinners and matches. She’s made advanced at him every single time he’s around her, and if he didn’t have you, he would probably flirt back.

But he never did.

“No, no. Not tonight. Thank you, though.” Kylian smiled, going back to scrolling on his phone.

He saw her shadow saunter over through the corner of his eye. “You sure, babe? I’m lot’s of fun.” He looked up, she winked at him. “Especially after you get a few drinks in me. Don’t you want to see?”

She stood so close to his sitting figure. “My girlfriend and I have plans. You remember (Y/N), right?” He reminded, as if to nicely ask her to please back off.

She nods with a sneer on her face, “I remember. She’s a little boring. Bland. Nothing like me.”

Kylian raised his eyebrows at her, expecting a quick ‘I’m sorry’, even if she didn’t mean it. Instead, she just chuckled, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Jeez, I’m only joking, babes.” She wasn’t and they both knew it. He noticed the way she jutted out her lips out at him, raking her eyes over his body, making him feel a little bit gross and jittery. “Well, if you change your mind, we have a section at La Cachette starting at ten. But don’t bring her. We only have room for you, love.”

She turned and strutted away, swaying her hips back and forth. Kylian shook his head in disbelief at that woman, disregarding everything and continued to scroll.

He stopped at a red light, chewing on his raw cheek like he has been all night. He looked at the time displayed in his car. 10:36 pm. Looking left, then right, he made a U turn. The area was familiar, he knew La Cachette was just a few blocks away, and right now all he wanted was to erase the ugly memory from his sober brain.

He didn’t remember parking the car or how he even got up to the private section, surrounded by models from wall to wall. All of them immediately recognizing him, clinging to his arm, handing him shots upon shots. Kylian usually wasn’t much of a partygoer. He enjoyed resting for his responsibilities, staying at home with you was what his Thursday nights usually looked like; cuddled up on the couch, munching on some healthy snack you made from Pinterest because you knew his strict diet plan like the back of your hand.

He shook his head from the thought of you, taking the bottle of top shelf vodka and pouring it freely into his mouth, earning cheers from all the women around him. Slamming the bottle down, he wiped his mouth, recognizing the blonde who watched him with a flirtatious quirk in her smile. He kept his eyes steadily on her, sauntering over like a lion to its prey.

“Let’s get out of here.” He grumbled, grabbing her hand and kept walking without looking back, dragging her away from her friends. She made no effort to stop. In fact, she clung onto his arm like she owned him, looking around to soak in the glory of everyone else gaping at her with the Kylian Mbappé.

Once outside, Kylian attempted to walk her to his car, but she tugged back, nodding her head to the building next door. “I live just up here.” She bit her lip.

Without even thinking about it, he let her lead him up the elevator and into her home. This is when he began realizing where he is, who he was with, and who wasn’t there with him. You.

She locked the door behind her, taking off her heavy coat and threw it on the couch. What she wore wasn’t much, and Kylians overly-tipsy brain couldn’t stop itself from focusing on her cleavage, looking away shamefully after a second or two.

“You can look, babe.” Her voice was sultry and confident. She placed herself only inches away from him, grabbing his hands and settling them on her hips, dragging them up until they rested just under her large breasts. “You can touch, too.”

Kylian sucked on his teeth apprehensively, looking from Catrina to the floor, wishing he’d just taken the bottle of vodka with him for moral support. He couldn’t believe himself or the position he’s found himself in. This was disgusting and so out of his nature.

She did it first. She did it first.

The angel on his shoulder was nowhere to be found, the red devil had taken over his conscience, begging him to just pull the trigger on the whole ordeal. He could almost hear it…

She did it first.

And then, he did it. He kissed her. Roughly. Angrily. His hands roamed up the unfamiliar body now taken in his arms. His eyes were shut tightly, but her small whimpers of satisfaction gave it away that it wasn’t you. He pulled back, wiping his mouth and turning around.

“What, that’s it?” Catrina gawked, slightly out of breath from the passionate kiss.

Kylian said nothing back, facing away from her as his mind recognized that she tasted nothing like you, felt nothing like you. He couldn’t go through with this.

“She cheated on you, didn’t she?” He hears her say, her heels clicking toward his downturned figure. She walked past him to the minibar snuggly placed in the corner, pouring two drinks into crystal glasses. “You know, they say alcohol’s the best medicine for a broken heart. And I agree.” She sticks out the cup and he takes it, swishing it around as his mind continued to contemplate his options, not daring to look up at the strange woman. “Well, that and rebound sex, of course. I’m here to provide you with both.” She swung back her drink in one gulp, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. “It’s not cheating if she did it first.”

She did it first.

Kylian grimaced, gulping down every last drop she gave him before slamming the glass down in a nearby table, closing his eyes once more and kissing her again.

Catrina blindly set her own glass down, walking backward to the couch, ripping off Kylian’s shirt in the process. They found the cushions, continuing to make out and shedding layers until there was nothing left.

He was lost in the heat of the moment, but couldn’t find it in himself to continue kissing this stranger under him. Instead, he flipped her over, taking her from behind right on the couch.

She moaned, she whimpered, but whenever she looked back, Kylian eyes were screwed shut. He didn’t like the way his name sounded coming from her, but focused on the pleasure she was providing for him.

It wasn’t a long fuck, it was foggy and unromantic. When he pulled out of her, he sat on the opposite end of her sofa, panting, only thinking about you. Your face. Your body. The way you make his heart feel. The touch of your lips. The warmth you provide his soul whenever he feels as low as he does right now.

“Putain.” He mumbled to himself.

“I know, right?” Catrina declares, misinterpreting his curses. She shuffled until she rested against his frame, cuddling into his side like he was comfortable with this.

“Where’s your bathroom?” Kylian stood up abruptly, gathering his strewn clothing from the ground.

She furrows her brows, giving him a dirty look before pointing to a door to the left of them. He didn’t waste a second before following her direction, locking himself in there like he’s a wild animal in need of taming.

He looked himself up and down shamefully, washing himself in the sink in an attempt to scrub the crime he just committed against you down the drain.

He fished his phone out of his back pocket of his jeans, turning it back on. Why he didn’t let you explain yourself before jumping to conclusions is a question for a clear minded Kylian… the Kylian who now stood facing himself in front of a dirty mirror inside of the house of a girl he just fucked out of spite. The irony in that isn’t funny to him, it just makes him hate himself for not letting himself think for one goddamn second.

As soon as his screen turned on, the buzzing didn’t stop. Message after message from you flooded his cell.

You: please come back kylian i promise it’s not what it looks like.

You: I swear on everything that it didn’t mean anything.

You: I would never cheat on you. Ever. Please just come back just let me explain.

You: please answer your phone

You: kylian I love you nothing happened. Absolutely NOTHING happened. Nothing would ever happen because you’re the love of my life. Please please PLEASE just answer your phone. Let me explain everything to you please.

You: I know how it looks but will you just talk to me? Where are you?

There were a plethora of simmilar messages he scrolled past, all apologizing and begging for him to listen to you. He ran a cold and shaky hand down his face, contemplating not reading the longer paragraph you sent, timestamped about the same time he got to the club. Surely it was an explanation. He prayed it was a bullshit one, which he acknowledges is a backwards way of thinking, but he couldn’t possibly live with himself if he just cheated on you because he decided to be a big baby and jump to conclusions.

With a big breath, he focused back on the screen.

You: I don’t know if you’re getting my messages but obviously you need some time, so I’m just going to explain myself for whenever you’re ready to talk. Gordon’s mom has been sick for some time now and he got the news she passed away right before you got there. I’d met her because of our past so I guess he just needed someone that knew her to be there for him. All we did was hug, I swear. I was just comforting him, nothing else happened or was ever going to happen. I know how it looks and I’m sorry you had to walk in on that but it absolutely meant nothing. It was just me being there for someone who lost a person who means a lot to them. You have to believe me, please please believe me. I love you with everything in me, ky. Let me know when you’ve calmed down and I’ll explain everything again if you need me to. Please be safe, I’ll be waiting for you at your house, okay? We should talk about this. I love you.

Kylian cringed up his whole face, placing his hand firmly over his eyes as if he didn’t want to read it anymore.

It wasn’t bullshit. Or at least it didn’t sound like it.

He exited his messages and looked up Gordon on Instagram, thankfully his profile is public. He clicked on the last post he made. It was dedicated to his deceased mother. Posted that day. Fuck.

He balanced himself with two hands on either side of the sink, letting his phone drop into the porcelain basin. He looked up at his reflection, feeling like a scumbag. A guilty, dirty, immature, unreasonable, cheating scumbag. He couldn’t believe himself. How dare he do this to you. He couldn’t even cry, he couldn’t face you or Catrina.

His phone buzzed from below him, his background catching his eye. It was a picture of you from this last Christmas in the snow. You were laughing, holding a mug full of tea, snowflakes stuck on your lashes. Your cheeks were pink, your eyes looked past the camera to him, practically saying I love you with just your gaze. He loved that picture.

Reluctantly, he read the notification. A text from you.

You: Are you okay? I’m worried about you

He sighed, taking his phone back in his hands.

Kylian: im okay. im coming home.

He wanted nothing but your tight embrace and a long disinfecting shower in his own home. He quickly finished redressing himself but quickly realized he only grabbed his jeans and one of his socks.

He opened the door again, finding that Catrina is in the kitchen wearing his shirt, drinking some pink wine straight from the bottle.

She grinned at him. “Want some?”

“I need my shirt back.” He walked around with his eyes to the floor until he spotted the missing sock.

She swayed over to where he stood, smirking like a maniac. “But I like you with no shirt on.” Her hands ran down his bare chest, but he quickly swatted her away.

“Seriously. Give me my shirt.” He sternly demanded, shooting daggers at her.

It wasn’t entirely her fault, but Kylian sure did blame her. She knew he was taken and continually tried to get him to cheat. He can’t believe she won. He couldn’t believe he did that to you.

She raised her brow seductively. “Fine.” She lifted it over her head, reveling absolutely nothing but her birthday suit underneath. Kylian looked away instantly, snatching the shirt from her grasp and booking it to the door, taking his shoes in the same hand as his top. Before he slammed the door she heard her yell, “call me!” Are you kidding?

Under any other circumstances, Kylian would not get behind the wheel of a car after having anything to drink, but he doesn’t have the time to come up with any other options, no matter how obvious they may be. He was banking on the fact that he sobered up post-fuck and during his come-to-jesus moment in the bathroom. Either way, he was hyper vigilant.

Eventually after what felt like an eternity, he arrived back at his home, turning off the engine with a big breath of relief. Unfortunately, being so preoccupied with the irresponsibility of drunk driving, all of the anxiety of cheating hit him all at once upon seeing your car.

He peered through the small window next to his door and saw you sitting with your legs curled up on an armchair, seemingly lost in thought, looking out the opposite window as you chewed on your fingernail.

“Dieu, je suis un idiot. Je suis le pire.” He grumbled to himself. God, I’m an idiot. I’m the worst.

The second you heard the door click, you shot up out of your chair, running toward your boyfriend who looked deeply upset. “Oh, Ky.” You whined, wrapping him in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. Did you get my texts? My voicemails?”

He hugged you back, breathing you in. Something familiar, something he loves. It was sweet and inviting, one of his favorite feelings was just simply being around you. He held you tighter.

“I did. I’m sorry, I should have let you explain. I wish I did.” He whispered the last part into your hair, kissing your head.

Your face was stuffed in his shirt, feeling some of your tension ease. “No, it looked bad. I know it did.” You looked up at him, not letting go of his middle. “You have to believe me. I would never—”

“—I believe you.” He assured, staring into your eyes that he saw switch from anxious to thankful.

You smiled up at him, tears almost threatening to spill from relief. “Thank god. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if…” you stopped, your train of thought halting. “We’re you drinking? You smell like vodka.”

He gulped. “Yeah… I was.”

“And how exactly did you get home?” You loosen you grip on him. He looked away from you. His silence was enough of an answer for you to let go of him. “Oh my god. Seriously, Kylian? Are you stupid?”

“Yes.”

“No, really. That’s so messed up, I never thought you’d do that. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come to wherever you were and picked you up. You have like… like five cars here I could’ve taken. Unbelievable.” You scolded, furious at him for putting his life and others lives in danger.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just…”

“Just what? You reek! If you got pulled over, you’d be absolutely fucked.” You walk up to him and take a big sniff. This time, it turns your stomach. Not because of the pungent smell of liquor, but what was underneath that smell. “Wait.” You grab a handful of the material, really taking in the scent this time. You took a second, not wanting to ask him the question. “Why… why does this smell like perfume?” You smell it again. “It’s definitely not mine.”

The room was completely silent. The air was stale, thick with anticipation. Kylians face screamed guilty, but he couldn’t make himself say any words.

“Kylian.” Your voice was stern, scary. “Where the hell we’re you just now?”

You prayed that he had a clear, logical, perfectly believable explanation, but the longer he stayed silent, the more your optimism diminished.

Kylian looked down, not being able to figure out a way of wording this that made him sound at all reasonable. He took deep intakes of air, letting it sit in his lungs to buy him some more time. You were smart, and he was too ashamed to come up with any form of an excuse. He loved you so much, he couldn’t believe that he had to stand in front of you and explain something he stupidly went through with.

“I was just… angry.” He started, still not meeting your laser stare. “I… um…” I wasn’t thinking? I don’t know what happened? I was so drunk? All those answers were lies. He couldn’t do it to you. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

Your eyes rushed with tears in a split second, your heart dropped down into your stomach, your guts swirled in disgust. “Kylian… no. You’re lying. You wouldn’t do that to me. Right?” The wavering of your voice sent an unexplainable sadness to Kylian who finally met your glossy eyes, but wished he didn’t. “Tell me I’m right, Kylian. Please.”

“I should have let you explain. I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m so sorry.” He stepped toward you, reaching out. You stepped backwards away from his grasp, mouth dropped at the unbelievably hurtful news that you’ve uncovered. “Bébé… please…”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that, Kylian.” The tears fell. You don’t remeber the last time you had such fury toward someone else. “Are you… oh my god. You’re fucking serious, aren’t you? You fucked another girl?”

You waited for his answer. He didn’t want to admit it. “I’m so, so, sorr—”

“Enough. Yes or no.” You demand, trying to hold yourself together enough to get a straight answer. He began to cry silently, his heart breaking for you. “Did you fuck someone else, yes or fucking no.”

His lip quivered, face scrunching together with sadness. He looked you in the eyes, seeing past the rage to the hurt lingering behind it. His voice squeaked out the answer neither of you wanted. “Yes.”

The pain of the truth settled immediately. You wanted to curl up into a ball, scream and cry until you felt nothing at all. To think that this morning started out like any other; eating breakfast together, playing footsies under the table like teenagers in love, kissing him goodbye and telling him you’ll see him later. Who knew that later meant the end of your relationship as you know it… who fucking knew.

He walked toward you again, but you stepped back again, putting a hand out to really get the point across. “Don’t even try.”

“I’m so… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. It will never happen again, i swear.”

“You’re right. It won’t.” You spat, grabbing your purse from the couch. “Because we’re over.”

He followed in front of you like he was playing defense. “No, no. Stop, please, stop.” He cried, your sorrowful eyes never landing on his. You wouldnt let yourself. “Let me explain—”

“Explain?” It made you stop, absolutely enraged. “Let me see if I get the picture. You thought you saw something and got mad. So, you went out, got drunk and met a girl, fucked her out of some sick revenge towards me, realized you were wrong then came here to try and apologize.” Your tone was firm even through the agony coursing through your body.

Kylian fell silent, not knowing what to say. You had about 99% of that right… Fuck.

“Did I miss anything?” You barked, crossing your arms. He gulped, looking down at the floor. Even though your answer was confident, you sensed he was holding something back. The more you racked your muddled mind during his shamed silence, it dawned on you. Painfully, you had to ask. “I know her, don’t I?”

He nods, his crying not stopping. Not for a second. “I never meant for this to happen.”

“Who.”

“Look, I just want you to know I’ve never ever had feelings for her—”

“Who.”

“Merde.” He curses lowly to himself, not finding a way of pulling himself together. “Catrina.”

This tore your heart straight out of his chest. You wanted to feed it to Kylian then make him puke it up so you could feed it to Catrina. “Of fucking course it was.”

“I never meant—”

“—So the second you saw an opportunity to fuck her, you did. I knew you liked her.” You exclaimed, pacing and pointing a finger accusingly at Kylian.

“What? No, it was never like that.” He was quick to defend himself.

“Then tell me. How’d you find her?”

He began to speak, but stuttered once he realized his answer wasn’t going to help him. Lie. Just lie. “She was just… there.”

“That’s bullshit.” You knew him too well.

He hated himself, truly. He couldn’t fathom what short circuited his brain that made him malfunction so severely that he’s now in this position — being broken up with by his one true love. “Earlier today. She told me where she’d be. I wasn’t thinking straight, I just wanted to forget what I saw.”

“What you thought you saw was nothing. I thought we had trust, Kylian. Where did that go? Huh?”

“I messed up. I know how badly I messed up but please, give me another chance.” He pleaded, grabbing your hands and cupping them in his own. “I swear on my life, on my career, on every euro I have that this will never ever happen again. Give me another chance. Please, bébé.” He repeated.

You sobbed, letting your anger come second to the betrayal, feeling as if someone turned off the lights inside your soul. It’s dark and cold. You’re lost, confused, trying to find some hope in the situation you’ve been presented with.

“I don’t think I can…”

“You can, I know you can.” He cried harder, finding himself in his knees in front of you, truly begging. “Please, please, (Y/N). Let me prove to you that tonight meant nothing. I’ll never do this to you ever again, I swear it”

“But it did. It did mean something.” You squeaked, broken. “You can try and make this up to me, Kylian. But I’ll never forget what you did. This isn’t something I can just move on from.”

"Can't we at least try?" His eyes screamed for you to stay, his kneeling figure breaking you down as he clung onto your thighs while he cried, choked sobs escaping his tainted and guilty lips. Kylian felt pathetic, but he didn't care. He'd do whatever you wanted him to do.

"I think..." You stop and weap, the words you wanted to say getting muddled, tangled... "I think this is the end of us, Ky."

"No." He blubbers, holding you a little tighter. He didn't want to let go. "No, we have the rest of our lives together. It's supposed to be you and me."

"Then how were you able to do this to me?"

The room was sour, begging for you to haul ass out the front door, but the whole ordeal has you overtaken with a feeling of anguish. It seeped into your bones, chilling your body until it felt immobilized. All you were able to do was look away from the tragic man who groveled on his knees, listening to the cries that came directly from his chest as they exploded out of him.

You couldn't force yourself to feel bad for him. Something snapped, no longer hidden behind the anger and grief. It took over your limbs as they untangled Kylain's tight grasp on your lower body, holding firmly onto your purse. You looked down at him, he stared up, searching for a glint of hope in your eyes, but failed to see any sign of forgiveness.

You've collected yourself, wiping your face. You were out of tears, out of emotion. "Mail me back my things." You said sternly, and nothing else. Before he could even try to respond, you had left.

Kylian stayed where you left him, fatigued, horrified, and empty. There wasn't a moment he could compare to this one. He literally let you slip out of his arms, helpless as he watched you walk out of his life for good. He didn't deserve you.

There wasn't an ounce of him that didn't regret everything that went down. Even hours later, though he tried, he couldn't pinpoint anyone else that was more at fault than he was. Sure, Catrina was a close second, but she had no loyalties to you. She was a person that took advantage of an opportunity to get her way, and Kylian was just foolish enough to give into her femme fatale nature.

As he sat on the edge of the tub, room filled with steam, he hovered a thumb over the last voicemail you'd sent him. The timestamp showed that he was int he process of fucking another woman when you'd sent it. He didn't want to click it. He'd been staring at it like it was going to run away for the better part of the hour. But, finally, he bit the bullet, quickly pressing the phone to his ear and closing his eyes.

"Hey, Ky. So, you're not home, but I'm just here waiting for you. It's been a long day and I just want to talk through this whole crazy misunderstanding. I know your mad, and I get it. I'd be pretty pissed if it was the other way around, but I know you'd never do that to me... I hope you know that I would never do that to you, either. I love you, and I know you love me. You just need some space to be angry for a while. I promise that I'll tell you anything you want to know when you get here... Okay, then. Uh... I love you, Kylian. with all my heart. Be safe, alright?"

A/N: Sad little one shot... no part two for this one, my friends. I don't fuck with cheaters! Besides, I feel The Loneliest already takes care of the post-breakup madness y'all might be craving. Speaking of, part 4 will be coming out very soon this week! I'm sorry i've taken kinda long to post the next one but I hope this angst keeps yall satisfied until I can finish off this chapter. I wrote this quickly and didn't spell check/ grammar check it very well, so apologies for my mistakes! Huge kiss to every single one of you.

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7

[egcdeath]

wine night

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: joel takes care of you after a night out. part of the soccer parents alternate universe.

word count: 4k

warnings: AU: no apocalypse, alcohol consumption, established relationship, fluff, mentions of vomiting, the reader is kinda an annoying drunk but joel is a sweetie anyway, explicit language, no y/n

author’s note: i am so addicted to writing this pairing. they have completely taken up all my brain space

“I mean, can you believe that he tried to get with my sister? That’s just not right,” your friend exclaimed, clearly deeply upset by her situation.

Wine nights have been a sacred ritual between you and your friends since your college days. Between routine catch-ups, book clubs, and emergency meetings, you could always rely on a wine night to pull you out of whatever funk you were in. Wine nights were a safe space to share whatever had been on your mind–whether it was juicy gossip you’d heard while attending a HOA meeting, or whatever personal drama had been plaguing you. All done under the influence, of course, so that the words you may have been holding back flowed off your tongue with far more ease.

Tonight fell more into a routine catch-up than any of the other categories. Although, given that you’d been swamped with work for the past few wine nights, there was much for you to catch up on.

“He’s a dick,” Andrea said sympathetically, setting a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “You deserve better, and I have complete faith that you will find someone better.”

A chorus of agreements went on around the room, as you all attempted to uplift your saddened friend.

“If you ever need anyone to talk to outside of wine nights, you know you can call any of us,” you expressed. “I mean, we all kinda hit the lottery with shitty exes. No one understands you more than us, and we all have your back!”

“Hey, speaking of shitty exes, how’s Chlo?” Jennifer asked, swirling her drink as she turned to face you.

You lit up at the mention of your daughter, although one might argue that with the amount of glasses of wine you’d had, you were already quite lit up. “She’s good! Her and her friend just had to do this ridiculous science project. Here, I’ll show you.”

You fumbled typing your phone’s password in, the flowing drinks making your fingers loosely flow as well.

In the video you pulled up, Chloe and Sarah began to explain their experiment while the torso and arms of Joel carried out the experiment. You smiled to yourself as you recalled the night; thankfully the girls had given you enough of a heads up before their project was due that you were able to plan a nice night around it, having a little family dinner before setting up and filming their project. After that, the children insisted on doing something fun which led to doing horrible karaoke. What a good night.

“Cool right? Aren’t they so cute?” you gushed, beginning to flip through your camera roll through pictures of your daughter—some by herself, some with Sarah, a few from the night you, Joel, and the kids attempted to make pasta from scratch, a few group photos you’d taken on your weekend road trip to San Antonio. Looking at each picture, you began to realize more and more just how much you missed your little family, and your heart yearned more and more to be with them.

“Are you soft-launching your boyfriend to us right now?” Andrea asked with a giggle, flipping back a photo to a picture of you and Joel on a picnic.

“No!” you laughed. “Boyfriend?”

“The one who’s in half of these pictures?” Michelle laughed, taking your phone and scrolling through for herself. “The one who’s checking in on you right now? ‘Let me know if you need a ride home, heart emoji?’” your friend imitated a deep voice and you laughed out loud.

“Ugh, ‘boyfriend’ just feels so juvenile,” you sighed. “But yeah. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now. Now gimme my phone back. I need to text back so he doesn’t think I’m dead or anything.”

“What?! You can’t just say that and not tell us more!” Heather gasped, leaning in closer to you as if she were afraid to miss out on any details.

“Well, our daughters are best friends, which is very convenient. He’s also just a really good dad. I mean, you should just see the way he interacts with Sarah, but he also treats Chloe like she’s one of his own. He’s just a really good, sweet guy, who treats me really well. He actually punched Nathan once, and I’m not even joking. He also happens to eat pussy like it’s his last meal on Earth. Did I mention that he’s gorgeous? I couldn’t ask for more,” you shrugged.

There was a collective ‘ooooh’ throughout the room, a clear indicator that your friends were interested.

“So when can we meet him? You’ve obviously been together for a while, but you’ve also been keeping it from us… So is this even serious enough to warrant a meeting?” Michelle poured herself a little more rosé and offered you some, which you politely declined. Your brain was already too fuzzy from the amount you’d drank throughout the night.

“Did you see that camera roll? Of course it’s serious enough.”

“Well, what’s with the secretiveness? Is there a catch or something?”

“Is he married?” Andrea sighed, exasperated.

“Oh my God. That would make so much sense. He has a daughter, so...” Michelle attempted to piece together

“That was once and it was an accident. I broke things off with him as soon as I found out,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “And for the record, he’s a single dad.”

“That’s hot,” Jennifer remarked, the words seemingly slipping away from her before she could catch them.

“You’re gross,” you countered before getting back to the topic on hand. “I guess… I don’t know. It feels weird to be in such a serious relationship after my last serious relationship. I just keep wondering if I’m gonna fuck it up or something, and I don’t wanna lose half my friends again because they all like Joel more than me.”

“Hey! We could never love a man more than we love you,” Jennifer explained.

“I don’t know. He’s pretty damn charming,” you hung your head and Michelle set her glass down to give you a hug.

“Babe, I swear, nothing will ever get in between our friendship. Especially a man. What would any of us ever do without you?”

Now that your friends had really reassured you, you were feeling slightly better about the whole situation. Maybe, just maybe, you’d let them meet Joel. They’d certainly approve of him, which was a plus. You glanced down at your device, which now had one unopened notification from the man of the hour.

Having fun? he asked.

id be having more fun with yoh, you replied.

you

miss u :(

We miss you too.

Uno wasn’t the same without our favorite cheater

lies

Now we’re talking about you and im sad bc i miss you and im more sad i missed uno

I’m sorry.

We’ll play Uno some other time.

Soon.

Very soon.

As the conversation moved away from your life update, you began to evaluate the situation. You were far more drunk than you anticipated being tonight, and it felt like you were only becoming less and less sober with every minute that passed. At the moment, nothing sounded better than the idea of crawling in bed with Joel, and cuddling with him until you fell asleep.

Can u come pick me up? I miss you too much to stay

Sure! Are you going back to your home or want to stay at mine?

You’re home

*Your. I’ll be over soon

No i meant it

See you soon

“I gotta retire,” you faux yawned, stretching your arms above your head. “So sleepy.”

“Uh-huh,” Andrea looked over at you, then back at your phone skeptically. “Did you get a better offer than wine night?”

“Possibly.”

“Is your man coming to pick you up?”

“Possibly.”

“Tell him to come in and say hi! We want to see him at the very least. Don’t tell him that part, though.”

You agreed with less reluctance than you probably would have if you hadn’t been reassured by your friends that they were loyal to you, and let him know (somewhat incoherently) that your friends wanted to meet him.

When a few knocks at the door were heard from the living room, your friends immediately paused their conversations to listen in. Andrea got up, as she was currently the most sober—which wasn’t saying much—of the bunch, and opened the door for him.

“Hi,” she greeted in her best customer service voice. “How can I help you?”

They exchanged some back and forth that you couldn’t quite make out before he entered the living room and waved at your friends awkwardly, before beaming when his eyes fell upon you. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room, and maybe it was just the wine speaking, but you felt like it too.

“Ready to go?” he asked you, approaching the couch you were sitting on.

“Mhm,” you hummed affirmatively. “You want a cracker?” you asked, reaching over to the barren charcuterie board on the coffee table and holding one singular cracker up.

Joel clearly bit back a laugh, but leaned down so you could pop the cracker in his mouth. “Yum. Need any help getting up?”

You shook your head and stood up, legs a little wobbly from your inebriation and the fact that you’d been sitting for hours.

“Isn’t he just perfect?” you directed your statement towards your friends once you finally managed to pull your attention away from Joel. “So handsome and so kind,” you hugged his side. “My perfect man,” you murmured into his shirt. “Now you see why I’m scared to mess everything up.”

Joel blushed under the praise and awkwardly smiled at your friends. “Oh? Bye guys. We’ll have to catch up sometime. Nice meeting you all,” he said as he began to direct you towards the door.

“Bye!” you called out as you exited the room.

Once Joel got you situated in the car, double checking you were strapped in and whatnot, you sighed as you looked over at him.

“I missed you so much,” you sighed. “You’re not allowed to leave me alone ever again.”

Joel smiled to himself at your drunken words. Sure, he knew you cared about him, but it was sweet to hear your uninhibited thoughts.

You continued your drunken rambling on the drive back, giving him a play-by-play replay of the night, up to the point where he came in. By the time you’d finished your story, you were back at his place.

You held Joel’s hand as he led you up to his bedroom, you giggling behind him as you copped a quick feel of his ass.

“Shh,” he reminded you, gesturing to the room where your children were having a sleepover.

“Sorry,” you whispered apologetically before following him into his room and flopping onto his bed. “I just missed you. And that ass.”

“You’re funny,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right back.” As he disappeared, you rolled onto your stomach and buried your face into his pillows, deeply inhaling his smell. You would have his scent made into a candle if you could.

While Joel was gone, you realized that you weren’t particularly fond of the jeans you decided to wear to your friend’s place. By the time he was back, a large glass of water and bottle of Advil in hand, you were helplessly struggling to get out of the clothing article.

He set the items down on what you’d declared as your side of the bed’s nightstand, then moved away to rummage in his dresser, eventually finding a pair of athletic shorts you’d left behind at some point, and heading back over to you.

“Need some help?” he asked despite already knowing the answer as you ridiculously wiggled around in your jeans.

“Yes, please,” you stuck your legs out and Joel was clearly fighting laughter at just how incompetent you’d become. Despite your previous squirming around, you were happy to let him unbutton and unzip your uncomfortable pants.

“Lift,” he directed, tapping your hip. You did as you were told, eventually ending with your uncomfortable pants off and your cozy shorts on. You sighed out a sound of relief as you propped yourself up against the headboard, the gentle touch of Joel’s hand on your thigh only further soothing you. You were finally ready for bed.

Before Joel left your side, he reached over to your nightstand and set the glass of water in your hands. “Alright, drink up.”

“What would I do without you?” you mumbled, taking a few big gulps from the glass he’d placed in your hands.

“Probably have a nasty hangover and shitty sleep in those jeans,” he sat back down next to you on his side of the bed, propping himself up right next to you.

“I mean, what would I do if I never met you?” you asked, rolling onto your side so you could get a good look at your partner. “If you never argued with me at games? Or never took us to that tournament? Or if our daughters never set us up?”

“That would be very sad,” Joel turned to face you as well, looking at you very earnestly as he humored your drunken ramble.

“Yeah,” you agreed, wiping at your eyes that had begun to well up. “I would be so sad without you.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Joel sighed, softly cradling your head and gently pulling you over to him as you began to bawl into his shirt. “You are so drunk.”

“No,” you protested, pulling away from some so that you could look up at your partner with watery eyes. “I just love you so much, and you mean so much to me. I hate imagining not knowing you.”

He gently thumbed away your tears. “Then don’t imagine not knowing me. I’m here with you right now, right?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I just missed you so much.”

“You’re sweet. I missed you too,” he rubbed small circles onto your back.

“Can we live together so I never have to miss you again?” you asked, burying your face back into his shirt.

“Someday, probably. I’m thinking this is a conversation we should have when you’re sober, yeah?”

“Maybe,” you agreed, sniffling and closing your eyes. “Joel?”

“Yes?” he asked, thumbing away the last of the tears on your cheeks.

“Do you know that I love you?”

“I do,” he confirmed.

“And that I wanna marry you someday?”

“Uh-“

“And you and our daughters are my favorite people, like, ever.”

“Well, I could say the same about you and our kids. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“I just love you so much,” you repeated.

“I know, honey. I love you too.”

“No, Joel. I love you. Like, I want to spend the rest of my life with you and grow old with you. Because that’s how much I love you. Do you understand?” you were almost worried you weren’t getting your point across. “I would swim across every ocean to be with you. ‘Cause I love you so much.”

Your words were definitely slurring at this point, both from the alcohol and the sleepiness setting in, but Joel didn’t seem too bothered by it.

“I do understand, and I would do the same for you,” Joel was clearly quite amused by your earnest, but inebriated sentiment, yet his fondness for you managed to shine through. “I’ll tell you all about how much I love you in the morning. Why don’t we try to sleep now?”

“Okay,” you agreed. “Only ‘cause I love you,” you didn’t protest as Joel hit the lamp on his bedside table. “I’m gonna miss you while I sleep.”

“I’ll be right here,” Joel assured you as you somehow managed to snuggle up even closer to him.

“I’m gonna try to dream about you,” you mumbled.

“Let me know how that goes,” Joel yawned.

“I will,” you promised before mirroring his yawn.

Joel fell silent and closed his eyes, something you could just barely make out in the dark. You attempted to fall asleep too, but failed. Your brain was simply too loud for you to will yourself to go to sleep.

“Joel,” you said quietly, testing to see if he was still awake.

“Mhm?” he hummed, not opening his eyes.

“Do you remember when we stayed at that hotel together?” you began to reminisce, thinking back to that first night the two of you shared a bed. If only you had known then what your tiny little crush would’ve turned into.

“Mhm,” he affirmed. “How could I forget?”

“I dreamed you held me all night. It was great,” you giggled, somehow being able to recall that moment despite your inebriation.

“I don’t think that was just a dream,” Joel admitted, figuring that you probably wouldn’t even remember this conversation in the morning. “I woke up with my arms around you, which was why I got out of bed so fast. Felt like I violated you.”

“You could never violate me,” you slurred. Of course, your mouth was moving faster than your brain, but in a way there was some backwards truth to your words. You would trust Joel with your life. Of course he could still do something awful to you, but you certainly trusted him enough to believe that he would not.

“Honey, that’s not as romantic as you think it sounds,” Joel responded, sounding somewhere between exasperated and exhausted.

“Oh. Oops,” you acknowledged. “Well, you know what is romantic? That I love you,” you countered.

“Love you too,” he mumbled sleepily, surely tired of repeating the phrase at that point.

“Good,” you nodded mostly to yourself, just checking in to confirm that your partner still loved you. “I’m going to sleep now,” you announced.

“Sounds good.”

“Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” you murmured.

“I’ll try,” Joel said quietly.

“Joel.”

“Yes?”

“Ow,” you whined.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding slightly more alert now that you might’ve been uncomfortable.

“Bed bug got me,” you explained, doing your best to keep your act of pain up.

“There are no bed bugs.”

“How do you know?”

“I asked them. Let’s get to sleep.”

“I am asleep.”

“Are you really?” Joel cracked open an eye and chuckled at the sight of you.

“Yes,” you declared, despite very obviously being nothing clearly wide awake. You made eye contact with Joel, who know was at least looking at you. “Have I ever told you how hot you are?” you asked.

“A few times, maybe.”

You reached out to the man across from you and pushed your fingers through his hair. “Hottest man in Austin.”

“Hottest woman in Austin. I suppose it’s a good thing we found each other.”

“Right?” you grinned, leaning into the touch as he reached out to hold your cheek.

“Right. Now it’s time to get your beauty rest, beautiful woman,” he laughed softly, clearly fighting sleep as it looked like each blink was more and more of a struggle to keep his eyes open.

“If you insist,” you replied, impulsively sticking your tongue out and touching Joel’s finger with it. “Sleepy boy.”

“Ew,” Joel remarked, retracting his hand from your cheek.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” you explained with a giggle. “I’ll go to sleep now.”

“Okay, good. I’m also going to sleep now,” he said seriously, a hint of finality in his voice. “Like, seriously, I’m going to sleep.”

“Well I seriously am too,” you shrugged.

“Prove it,” Joel attempted, one last shot at getting you to go to sleep.

“Fine,” you countered, closing your eyes. “Goodnight. For real this time.”

You relaxed into the mattress, finally ready to sleep—or so you thought. You only lasted about ten minutes until your eyes opened once again, this time you found Joel quite soundly asleep, the deep rises and falls of his chest clueing you into just how tired he’d been.

You resisted the urge to wake your boyfriend up again, but rather pulled yourself in closer to him, looping your legs around his waist and your arms around his torso as if you were some kind of koala. If you were even slightly more sober, you were sure you would be completely uncomfortable with the position, but drunk you couldn’t think of any other way you’d rather be sleeping.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, melting into your partner, and eventually succumbing to sleep.

The wine was not kind to you in the morning. A pounding headache and waves of nausea rolled over you, waking you up prematurely as your brain signaled to your body that you were absolutely going to throw up.

You held a hand to your mouth as you slipped out of bed, sprinting to the en-suite and dangling your head in the toilet for what felt like a lifetime as you emptied the majority of the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl.

As soon as Joel heard the sounds of your sickness, he was right there with you in the bathroom, sitting on the floor next to you as he held back your hair.

First, he took care of your drunk ass, and now he was taking care of your hungover ass.

“I’m getting too old to drink that much,” you groaned, curling up on the cold floor once your body was finally finished punishing you for what you had done to it the previous evening. “Remind me never to drink again.”

“If it makes you feel better, you were having a lot of fun last night.With your friends, then back here with me,” he rubbed your back as you groaned on the floor.

“Did I say anything stupid?” you asked, watching Joel get up to grab your cup of water and temporarily mourning the loss of his comforting touch.

“To your friends? No idea. To me, you were just being extra affectionate. You kept telling me that you love me, and at one point you were crying because you kept thinking about not knowing me. I was pretty entertained.” He sat back down next to you and passed the cup over, along with two little pills.

You groaned at the description of your night and took the Advil you’d been offered before drinking down some more water.

“You also refused to let me sleep. It was pretty cute. Well, not in the moment because I was pretty tired, but thinking about it now, it was pretty cute.”

“Oh boy,” you softly chuckled to yourself, careful not to disturb your pounding head too much by laughing too hard. “I’m sorry. I may need to be a sober participant at our next wine night.”

“Don’t worry about it. You had fun with your friends, and that’s what matters most. Now are you feeling any better?”

“A little,” you nodded, at the very least no longer feeling nauseous.

“Then let’s get back to bed?” Joel suggested, posing it more as a question than anything.

“As much as I would love to, I don’t know if I’m physically capable of getting off of this floor right now,” you confessed. You were in pretty bad shape after last night.

“No worries, I got you,” you weren’t exactly sure what Joel meant at first, until his hands were under you and he was scooping you up in his arms, carrying you back into his bedroom where he gently set you down on his mattress.

“You are a saint,” you expressed, stretching out on your side of the bed before curling up onto your side and facing your partner. “How did I get so lucky?” you asked, reaching out to play with a strand of his hair.

“Not that lucky,” he remarked.

“No way. I can’t think of any other guy who would put up with my drunken antics, then proceed to take care of me like this in the morning,” you explained. “That, and all of the other ways you improve my life. Remind me, and I’ll get into them when I don’t feel like my head is going to explode.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna argue with someone telling me how great I am,” he lightly chuckled, reaching down to lift your blanket back up and over the two of you.

“Good. I’m in no shape to debate you right now,” you muttered, snuggling into the duvet and succumbing once more to a peaceful and content sleep.

“Good. I’m in no shape to debate you right now,” you muttered, snuggling into the duvet and succumbing once more to a peaceful and content sleep.

[creatingblackcharacters]

I was so glad to find your blog, because it’s given me the opportunity to find some awesome resources for my writing, but there was one thing in particular that I think I should send an ask about, so here goes:

I’m writing a story that focuses on teenagers trying to get revenge for different tragedies that they know we’re all caused by the same person. It has a pretty big cast, but there’s one character who I really feel like I need to talk about so I make sure I tell her story the right way. This character is a Black girl who sets out to find her missing younger sister, but there’s some details I’d really like to get peer reviewed first to make sure they aren’t offensive, or see if there’s anything I can do to make them better.

So, this character starts off as a “gifted kid,” kind of— she gets good grades, she plays an instrument, she has tons of friends, all the stuff parents want their kids to hav in school. Until she witnesses an incident that ends up scarring her, that is. (The incident is just a catalyst and not as important to this character, so I’m skipping the details. Someone died.) She suspects something’s going wrong in her town, and that people’s lives are in danger, but no one listens until it’s too late, and her little sister has gone missing. Now, here’s where things get to a point where I want to ask for help. The little sister was killed, and the older sister suspects that she could’ve been saved if the police paid more attention to her, and their ignorance when it came to the situation might’ve been rooted in racism. She develops a distrust of authority, including her own parents, and decides if no one else is going to destroy this evil, it might as well be her. The older sister then goes on a journey to try and solve the mystery for herself and ever silly come to terms with her sister’s death, all the while believing that she can’t go to the adults because they won’t take her seriously. Even if she’s a straight A student, even if they say she’s a bright kid, she worries it isn’t enough. Because when it matters most, they didn’t take her seriously. By the end of her arc in the story, the older sister has faced down the villain, accepted her sibling’s death and helped her spirit move on, while also making sure nothing like that will happen again— at least under those same circumstances. She comes clean to her parents about everything, and she actually has one of the best relationships with her family out of any other character in this story. But that’s pretty sensitive stuff. I feel like I can’t just wing it, I need to talk to people and see where I could go wrong, and where I could go right with this. I’ve noticed there aren’t a lot of stories where Black girls get to go on adventures and face down evil, so I wanted to try writing one myself, but I really want to do this character justice. If there are any tips you have for making this character authentic, any places where I should be particularly aware of the subject material, and any additional resources for writing horror with characters of color, I would love to hear them.

It all sounds interesting to me! But as always, the prompt versus the actual writing can always diverge. This is yet another situation where I'd find a Black sensitivity reader to follow along with your work so that you don't get sidetracked, especially with a topic as complex as misogynoir (there are people on my recent post who have volunteered!) I'm not sure if you read my latest lesson on horror, but there are resources there, plus lessons on stereotypes. I would also suggest finding those books and visual media with Black girl protagonists and watching them, studying how they are done and how the story is told. I'm sure there are lists on Google of media to start with.

[blue-slxt]

Oldest Children

A/N: Just a quick little fluff blurb that I wrote a while back and I think it's kinda cute. So hopefully you guys like it too. This is just a quick little post until I get the first part of the next series up later this week.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Warnings: Just fluff

Word Count: 800

Summary: You are the oldest daughter of Tonowari and Ronal and the responsibility of training the Sully kids falls on you and your siblings. You and Neteyam end up bonding over your roles as the oldest children of your families.

It had been about 2 weeks since the Sully family arrived on your shores. You had always heard tales of the Toruk Makto and his legendary triumphs against the sky people. No one ever thought he and his family would come to seek uturu, but given the circumstances, it was understandable. It was the safest option.

As the eldest daughter of Tonowari, you and your siblings were tasked with helping the children learn your ways of life. Teaching them how to properly breathe and ride ilu and hunt.

Even though it felt like a burden, you couldn’t help but take an interest in the family and how different your ways were. In particular, when they arrived, one of them caught your eye. When you and your sister emerged from the sea to see the commotion, you noticed her locking eyes with the younger boy in the family. You instantly knew she had taken a liking to him. It almost made you miss the glance the older boy gave you. He gave you a small smile and nod and you look away smiling to yourself.

It was a big adjustment for everyone and Ao’nung making fun of the kids definitely didn’t help the situation. After some time, and many stern talks, he backed off some.

You sit on the beach with Neteyam, the oldest of the Sully kids, and you trade stories about the forest and the sea. You both bonded quickly during the lessons since you were both the eldest of your families. You could relate to one another.

You sat cross legged in front of him, “hold up your hand”. He does as you ask and you place your hand on his looking at the differences. You take note of how much bigger his hand is than yours, but it was much thinner. Not adapted for swimming efficiently like yours was. And the color, the contrast of his darker blue skin against your aquamarine was striking. “Wow.”

You sit looking at his hand that dwarfs yours, but Neteyam is looking at your face of wonder. Your eyes lock onto his and he threads his fingers through yours. It feels like time stops. His big golden eyes are overwhelming. You clear your throat and drop your gaze, pulling your hand back into your lap. “So, tell me more. How are you settling in here? I know it is much different from what you are used to.”

Neteyam leans back on his hands and turns his face up to the sky. “I like it here, but of course, I miss the forest. But I have to hold it together for my siblings. It is important for me to set an example for them so that they can adjust here too.”

“That makes sense” you think out loud. “It’s hard being the oldest child. Having to be there for everyone else and live up to your parents’ expectations all the time, it’s draining. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I were just one of the people.”

He shifts his gaze to look at you and cocks his head to the side. “What would you do? What do you want for yourself?”

The sounds of the waves crashing on the shore fill your mind as you try to picture your ideal life free of the burden that came with your lineage. “I would live a quiet, domestic life. I would mate with a strong warrior who would protect me and we would have lots of children.” The image is serene and it makes you sigh with content. Your attention is brought back to Neteyam when he grabs your hand. His eyes are narrowed on your face, but they are still so soft.

He leans in closer to your face and your breathing is getting heavier.

“If there were such a man who wanted to give you that life, would you have him?” You swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat and grip his hand back.

“In a heartbeat.”

He shoots you a quick smile flashing his fangs and it makes you feel like you could just melt. Before another word can be spoken between you, his name is being called in the distance.

“Neteyam! Dad says it’s time to come in!” it’s Tuk jumping up and down yelling from far down the beach. You both turn to look in her direction and you breathe a small sigh of relief at the broken tension.

While your attention is still turned in the direction of where the young child just was, Neteyam leans in and places one small kiss on your cheek. Your ears shoot up and your face is a deep purple. You touch the spot he just kissed still feeling the warmth while you watch him stand from his place in the sand and walk towards his little sister.

This boy was going to be the death of you.  

[depressedbagpipe]

Ka-Chaow (Charles Leclerc x female!reader)

Chapter three

Words: 4024 Warnings: french cursing?, cringey dialogue, reader being a main character, charles being charles, ferrari being ferrari, mentions of wine, me not understanding how life works in Monaco. A/N: thank you mel for translating the french bits for me, i owe you a coffee. I'm not 100% happy with how this turned out but i think i like the way I'm slowly giving info about the reader. also, life has been hectic lately but I'm slowly back on track. as an apology here you go, a cute Charles gif Series Taglist: @heavengirls111, @roseamongthorns13, @mishaandthebrits, @charlesswife, @silscintilla

Series Masterlist Previous chapter

Monte-Carlo, January 8th, 2023

I had only ever moved twice before in my life. The first time was from a dirty shoe box on the lowliest side of town to a comfortable house in Hammersmith. Namely, I was only two years old when that happened and I don’t recall much, but I know every single detail of everything that happened as it was always conveniently brought up every Christmas dinner; when the entire family would get together and unironically thank God for every opportunity given to them. 

The second time happened after I graduated and got my job at Ink’n’Paper. Mr. Williamson needed someone nearby to manage his appointments, and I had been perfect for the job, apparently, so it made sense that I finally moved out of my parent's house and got my own place in the city, closer to the office I lost part of my sanity at every day. 

I skipped moving for college, thankfully, so I didn’t have to deal with thousands of other overbearing parents lecturing their kids on how to be responsible 18-year-olds. That also meant I got the lecture later in life, but I still appreciated the tips, like doing laundry at night when light was cheaper, and pre-planning meals for the week –which I now appreciated immensely, due to the hectic schedule my job worked on. 

And now, I found myself finally moving the last of my boxes up the stairs to my new Monaco apartment, with tired arms and knees from bending so many times. My back was also strained, but it was nothing a good night's sleep couldn’t fix.

I always prided myself on being an intelligent and strong independent woman, but as soon as the movers left, I realized, just maybe, I could’ve asked for more help. I felt bad after seeing them struggle with the dishwasher and thought I would save them some effort by doing the rest myself, but after the first few boxes, I realized I was doomed. But honestly, what newly-renovated apartment doesn’t come with a dishwasher?

It was also a bit eerie, how I didn’t even see any of my neighbors. I knew the building was entirely new, but I thought maybe a few other residents would have already complained about my grunts in effort and the constant going up and down the stairs. Because, obviously, the elevator didn’t work just yet. Neither did the pool on the roof, or the gym. 

‘We need a few more final touches, but all the apartments are ready to be lived in,’ the realtor had explained after the short tour of the building since half of it was still missing. 

‘And do you know when it’ll finally be open?’ I had asked, out of pure curiosity. I certainly wasn’t planning on running on a treadmill if I could help it. 

The man had only shrugged his shoulders and bid me farewell shortly after, leaving me alone in the middle of the reception hall to wait for the movers to bring my things. That had been over four hours ago, and now I was desperate for food and sleep. Instead, I was struggling with my very last cardboard box full of books, blindingly going up the stairs through a very restricted field of vision.

It was just my luck that, right on my floor, only after walking two steps into the hall to my apartment, I crashed into someone.

Under any other circumstance, I would’ve found the irony and cliché of the situation; accidentally colliding into someone, papers spilling everywhere, getting down to retrieve them and brushing fingers and meeting gazes. Maybe a smile or two. That’s actually how I met Alec. Both of us were running late, him to a band rehearsal, and me to my first interview at Ink’n’Paper. My résumé got mixed with his songs and an hour later we found ourselves sitting at a cute café, sharing stories over warm coffee slowly falling in love with each other. Only this time, I was tired, sore, and buried under a nearly-broken box filled to the brim with books, with some of them unceremoniously lying on the floor half-opened. 

The impact with the floor knocked the wind out of my lungs, and for a split second, I debated whether I should just lay there for the rest of my life. But a familiar accent decided otherwise.

‘Oh, mon dieu, je suis desolé, ca va?’ (Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you alright?)

For a second I froze. Surely, the universe was playing some sick joke on me. I groaned as I stood up, barely noticing the two hands helping me up. I dusted my pants as I looked down at the spilled mess, internally groaning at the thought of having to bend down to pick everything up again. 

‘Je vous ai fais mal?’ (Did I hurt you?) the man repeated, and it was only then that I mustered the courage to look up at him. And it suddenly dawned on me that I was standing right before Charles Leclerc.

I shook my head, not knowing how to respond. It was the second time the young driver stood in front of me, but just like the first one, I didn’t know what to do with myself. 

‘Sorry, uh, I don’t speak French,’ I stammered. I was trying hard not to tremble, even though I could always blame the pain from the fall for it.

‘Oh, it’s alright. Are you okay, though? Did I hurt you? That was a nasty fall,’ he switched to English as he eyed me up and down, probably checking for any injury.

I tried hard not to blush or giggle, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that my biggest crush was casually there, in my apartment building, and was making sure I was alright. 

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Thank you, though,’ I replied.

He then seemed to notice the box and books on the floor. ‘Here, let me,’ he said before bending down and grabbing the heavy box into his hands.

My eyes scanned over his hands, noticing the way his fingers flexed and strongly grabbed the sides. Again, under any other circumstance, I would’ve found the irony of the situation, but my nerves were making me shake slightly and I wasn’t too proud of that.

I too bent down, taking the scattered books in my arms and not caring about their state anymore. I only wanted to have an excuse to stop my hands from shaking and to look anywhere but at him.

‘It’s okay, really, I can handle these,’ I said, completely embarrassed. Seconds before I had been flat on the ground in front of him. I really just wanted to dig a hole and bury myself in it for the rest of my life after that.

He smiled briefly at me, but his hands remained on the box, effortlessly grabbing it under one of his arms before extending a hand towards me. I stared at it, noticing the rings on his fingers and his expensive watch. Without thinking I took it, and I tried not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin and his firm grip on mine as he helped me up. 

‘Wait, have we met? Your face seems familiar,’ he scrunched his eyebrows while he looked at me. 

I was still appalled at the fact that I was talking to him, but I slowly nodded my head, remembering our brief interaction back at the Fiorano track. 

‘Yeah, um, we met at Maranello? I’m Mr. Williamson’s assistant,’ I explained, but Charles only seemed more confused. ‘The guy that’s supposed to write the book about Ferrari,’ I added.

His eyes widened in recognition, and my heart beat loudly as I let a breath out. 

‘Oh, right! We were introduced at the track! Well, it’s lovely to see you again!’ he smiled, shaking my hand with a short laugh.

I hadn’t even noticed that he was still holding me, and while I would normally be too socially awkward to keep the contact up, I didn’t mind his one bit. But eventually, I let go, because I could feel the grip of the books slipping with every passing second. 

‘Yeah, you too! What are you doing here? I mean, do you know anybody in the building?’ I asked before I could stop myself. Surely, the man had more important stuff to do.

To my surprise, he shook his head. ‘Nope. I live here.’

The equivalent of breaking glass was the only sound that went through my brain. 

‘Wait, really?’ I asked him.

He nodded. ‘Yeah, I came back a few days ago. And I’m guessing you just moved here too,’ he motioned to the box still under his arm.

I nodded too. ‘Yeah. Today,’ I dumbly answered, feeling the strain in my arms under the weight of the books.

He definitely noticed, because he jumped in his place and profusely apologized. ‘Merde, let me help you with that,’ he looked at the box and then back at me again. ‘So, um, which way to your apartment? In the least creepy way possible?’ he chuckled in embarrassment, yet I found it incredibly cute. (Shit)

I couldn’t help but laugh too. ‘5A.’

His mouth opened in clear surprise. ‘Hey, I’m 5B!’ his eyes almost disappeared when he smiled. 

His smirk was contagious, that much I already knew. I would be lying if I said I had never watched his post-race interviews or any other promotion for his team whatsoever, but I obviously couldn’t straight up tell him that. So finding out that not only we were neighbors, but there would only be a rather thin wall separating us, was enough to send me into cardiac arrest.

‘Wow, that sure is a coincidence!’ I dumbly added.

For someone known to have a response for anything, I suddenly ran out of words.

But either he didn’t notice, or he didn’t care.

‘Well, better take these to their new home. I don’t think this floor has been cleaned in a while,’ he chuckled, walking back into the hall and in my apartment’s direction. 

I shrugged my shoulders, following after him, thinking all of it had to be some weird dream I was having because there was absolutely no way in hell Charles Leclerc was casually waiting by my door holding a box full of my shit and helping me move into my new apartment in Monaco. 

‘Oh, the door’s open,’ I said while I walked past him and inside the flat. With a tilt of my head, I beckoned Charles inside too.

The look he sent me was hilarious. ‘It’s been open this whole time?’

I winced as I put the books down on the kitchen island, which overlooked the wide living space. It was certainly bigger than my apartment in London, but the clean-white walls and lack of furniture made it look like a mansion compared to the other residence, full of books and half-burnt candles.

‘I mean, I was going up and down with boxes and I didn’t want to have to open and close the door every time,’ I said, rubbing my sore arms.

He left the box on the island as well, shyly looking around the pretty empty apartment. 

‘Well, nice place you got here,’ he chuckled at his joke. I laughed too, but mine was rather a combination of nerves, disbelief, and sheer anxiety. ‘Sorry, I… I don’t think I remember your name, I apologize for that.’

I shook my head quickly as I answered, saying it was totally fine. Just the fact that he vaguely remembered my face was already a huge accomplishment on his part, knowing that he met new people every single day. 

‘Thank you for helping me, by the way,’ I told him, gesturing to the books. I laced my hands behind my back, frantically spinning the ring on my finger in an anxious tic I had developed throughout the years. 

He shook his head with a grin, waving his hand in the air. ‘I’m happy to help. Honestly, I’ve been quite jet-lagged lately and I’ve been sleeping all day, but had I been up, I would’ve helped you through it.’

I felt the heat on my cheeks, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. ‘It’s fine, really. You know, I even thought I was the only one here. I saw nobody, literally. And if somebody saw me then they didn’t say anything,’ I frowned at the thought. 

He grinned at me again, and it felt weird to see those dimples in real life. ‘I don’t think there are that many people living here yet, to be honest. I still haven’t seen anybody else besides you. Kinda creepy, too.’

I laughed, feeling somewhat relaxed now at the thought of living so close to him. Not as a fan, per se, but as a walking person I could turn to in case I needed salt.

‘I would treat you to some tea but I have absolutely nothing to eat right now. I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet. And I have no dishes or cutlery, either. I do have a dishwasher, though,’ I said, wanting to repay the favor somehow, although everything that came from my mouth felt worse than the previous one. 

‘You have a dishwasher?’ he gaped at me.

I nodded. ‘Got it installed this morning. I’m never washing dirty dishes with my hands again.’

He chuckled again before looking back at the door, which had stayed open. It wasn’t like there was anyone that could come in, though. ‘Well, maybe this sounds weird, but, if you’d like, we could have dinner together? As in a… housewarming party?’ Charles offered. 

I tried hard not to blush at his request, and I definitely felt the strain in my lips trying to control the grin. ‘Shouldn’t I be the one throwing the party?’ I lifted an eyebrow at him. 

He nodded. ‘Yeah. But it’s seven in the afternoon and all the markets are closed,’ he pointed out after checking the hour on his watch.

I gaped at him. ‘Is it that late, really?’ I asked, grabbing my phone and checking the time too, but to my dismay, Charles was right. I had completely lost track of time.

‘Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?’ he tried to laugh it off, and I appreciated it.

‘Well, shit. Guess I’m not having breakfast tomorrow either,’ I joked, yet a pit of anxiety settled in my stomach. I was far too hungry for such disappointment.

‘You’re welcome for breakfast, too,’ Charles added quickly. I stared at him with a frown. ‘Again, if I had been awake, I would’ve helped you, and you wouldn’t be stuck now without food until tomorrow morning.’

My heart ached slightly at his beaten expression. ‘It’s not your fault, Charles. You don’t have to feel bad about it. I mean, you literally have no responsibility over anything.’

He took a few seconds, eyeing me. His eyes then moved to the side, checking the empty kitchen, and the boxes piled right at the center of the living space, and he frowned again.

‘I still want you over. I’m not the greatest chef, but I can make some nice pasta. And I think I’ve got some tea left, for the morning. Not like I’m asking you to spend the night, you know, that’d be weird, but like, if you wanna come over for a quick snack… Although I wake up really early to train, you know… you’re welcome to,’ he rambled.

I stared at him for a whole minute, registering his words. Now more than ever, it really felt like a dream. And despite knowing better than going to a random stranger’s apartment for free dinner on the sole basis of human kindness, I nodded.

‘Alright, I’m not gonna say “no” to pasta. And if you’re trying to murder me, know that my mum is a lawyer. And a really good one at that. And she knows where I am, so,’ I said, pointing a finger menacingly at him with squint eyes. Might as well throw some spice in it. 

He smiled at me, again with those dimples showing, holding his palms up in surrender. ‘Great! And I’m not trying to murder you. Then uh, why don’t you come by in like two hours? So I can prepare things and clean around?’

‘Sure!’ I smirked. 

‘Alright, then, uh, I’ll see you later!’ he grinned.

‘Great!’

‘Okay, um, ciao!’ Charles said with a final wave. He walked out of the apartment, and I caught his eye as he closed the door, with the ghost of a smirk decorating his lips. (Bye!)

—

‘And you just moved here, then? I asked him.

‘Yeah. Somehow fans found my old address and it wasn’t safe for me anymore. Besides, my neighbors “invited” me to leave so… apparently I yell too much at the simulator,’ he confessed, making me chuckle.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ I said with a grimace, remembering his Instagram posts.

‘Don’t be. I mean I knew stuff like this would happen, just not to me,’ he chuckled.

I stared at him in disbelief. Surely, had to be joking, right?

‘Life works in mysterious ways, I guess,’ I added, taking a sip of the expensive wine he had opened for us at the beginning of the dinner. 

‘So, how come you moved to Monaco, then?’ Charles asked before taking a big bite of his pasta.

I swallowed before responding. I still felt quite nervous, trying to look and act decently before him. I had never been one to talk about myself that openly, and it sucked to think our conversation resembled that of a date, even though it wasn’t. 

‘Well, as I said, I work at this publishing house as Mr. Stephen Williamson’s assistant, which, for the record, is a pretty big name in the industry. And last November he got this deal to write about Ferrari, so… here I am,’ I tried to explain. 

I didn’t want to bore him with the details, but if anything, it only made him even more curious.

‘How do you go from working as an assistant to living in Monaco?’ he asked.

I sighed. ‘I don’t even know. We flew to Italy last month to sign the deal and stuff, and apparently, my boss wanted me to move here to oversee the writing process.’

‘But he’s in London.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Me neither.’

He laughed. ‘Well, I’m glad we’re both on the same page.’

‘Right?’ I chuckled too. ‘No, but seriously, I know he’s got other stuff to work on and he thought it better that I was the one to come here in his place,’ I continued, still waiting for further instruction from both Mr. Williamson and Mr. Vigna’s part to proceed to the next phase. ‘Let’s just say he’s not… in the best state right now…’ I bit my lip, not wanting to reveal too much, for Mr. Williamson’s sake. ‘So, effectively, I’m the one in charge of getting all the data, interviews, experiences…’

‘And Monaco is the best place for that,’ Charles finished for me as he also finished his pasta. 

I nodded, taking another bite. He was a fast eater, for sure.

‘Exactly. Mr. Vigna said they’re opening a new office here and many workers are commuting so… It shouldn’t be hard,’ I added after taking a deep breath. 

‘Wow, and you just left? What about your family? Friends? Boyfriend?’ Charles asked, with his eyes fixed on my face. 

I choked on my pasta. He patted my back repeatedly as I brought the wine glass to my lips, desperate to calm my aching throat. 

‘Sorry, no, no boyfriend,’ I coughed again. I swore his eyes glistened ever so slightly. ‘And my people understand. It’s not going to be forever, you know? Just a few months. And I’m constantly on the phone with them, and I’ll travel back and forth. But it’s easier when half the grid is already here,’ I answered once I was calm enough.

He nodded. ‘You’re right. So I’m guessing I’ll see you around the paddock this year.’

‘Yeah, you definitely will. I mean, according to Mr. Williamson, until he’s able to commit full-time to this project, I am to become Ferrari’s own shadow. A fly on the wall. Any conversation? I’ll be there listening,’ I recalled the conversation with my boss, thinking he had been a bit too dramatic at first, only to later realize he was being completely honest. 

He had made a name for himself thanks to his decent spying qualities, which he favorably used in his work to portray the most realistic picture of whatever matter was at hand. Anyone with a brain knew that required skill and time, and the fact that he had entrusted me with it spoke volumes of his faith in me. Or of his inebriation. 

Charles whistled. ‘That’s a huge responsibility.’

‘Well, I’m not Spider-Man, but yeah, it’s a huge power too.’

He grinned. ‘If you need any help, you know where to find me. You know, it was always my dream to drive for Ferrari.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He laughed. ‘Well, last year certainly didn’t go as I expected, but I’m excited for this season.’

Charles’ eyes shone whenever he spoke about driving. I hadn’t spent much time with him yet, but it was easy to share his enthusiasm for the sport, even after going in tangents about laps, sectors, and front and rear wings. He spoke with the excitement of a little kid, and at times, it was hard to believe he was a twenty-five-year-old man. 

‘But I don’t want to bore you with it, sorry,’ he caught himself after a while, but I shook my head.

‘Not at all. I’m a fan of the sport too, you know,’ I said, suddenly feeling embarrassed and shy.

But his face didn’t seem to mind it one bit. His eyes, in fact, widened. ‘Really?’

I nodded. ‘Yeah. My dad is a huge motorsport fan so he made sure his only daughter followed his steps.’

‘May I ask which team are you supporting?’ he asked.

‘Don’t want to inflate your ego even more, but Ferrari,’ I chuckled.

He grinned again. ‘Red is the best color, after all.’

‘It’s all about the Italian in us.’

‘Certainly.’

Our dinner was long finished, but we both stayed at the table, drinking wine and sharing stories for the rest of the night. 

It was easy to talk to him, contrary to popular belief. When I had knocked on his door a few hours before, I had been a mess of anxiety and nerves. I had tried so hard to come up with the best possible outfit right after exiting the shower, wanting to look good and put-together, yet not too formal. I had rehearsed over and over how to say hello, how to compliment his food, and how to thank him again for the immense favor he was doing me, but all that evaporated as soon as he opened the door. Pleasantries were exchanged, some more apologies as well, and before I could even react, we were already sitting down, enjoying some warm meal over good wine. Charles turned out to be excellent company too, and I could only thank the universe for having met him on my first night in Monaco. I truly felt a bit less alone, all thanks to him. 

I had been scared about moving to a different country by myself, away from my parents and my friends. I hadn’t even had time to sit down and think about it. Twenty-four hours ago I was packing my bags after the longest Christmas celebrations ever and now I was smiling and chuckling away with someone I was hoping to call a friend sometime soon. Even after getting in bed, tired, but happy, no tears came. I wasn’t scared anymore. For once, even after all the heartbreak and stress, I was excited for what was to come, despite not knowing what was in store for me. And I was ready to find out. 

Next chapter

General Taglist: @angiewhoohooo, @azaleaniath, @mishaandthebrits, @celestialcharles

[thesolaireslawyer]

Where Is He

TW - Survivors Guilt, Inversion mentions, Character Death

WC - 1021

A/N - I'm getting better at writing in the first person!

I stepped out to get Xavier a drink. Just a soda.. That’s all he wanted not one of those cheap stomach ache-inducing ones they sell at the concession stands. He didn’t want one of those. He wanted one from the 7/11 across the street. I was gone for longer than 5 minutes. And when I came back that ward was up. I was gone for 5 fucking minutes. 

Xavier was trapped on the other side. And I couldn’t get to him. I was begging anyone with the power of the situation and all I was getting was shut down after shut down. No one wanted to tell me anything. Maybe after 10 minutes of me hassling Jett he caved. Shades. Fucking shades. Creatures that crawl their way from death escaped. 

Into one of the biggest empowered events front down. My legs nearly gave out. How did this happen? Who would do this? Why would they do this? I had so many thoughts happening at once. But the only thing I cared about was Xavier. I know I should have been concerned about the others but I couldn’t be. My Boyfriend was on the other side of that ward. 

With those CREATURES! And I know how shades work. People have to die before anyone can do anything to them. And knowing how they work. I still hoped Xavier lived. Do you know how many people would have to die? Too fucking many, for me to be wishing one person survived. I don’t know what happened on the other side of the ward. 

And I may never know. Because I was at a goddamn 7/11 getting a fucking soda. Well, Xavier and the others were fighting for their lives. I was trying to figure out what type of soda my boyfriend wanted. It doesn’t even take me long to grab something as simple as that. But that night it did. Sleeping without him at my side has been a nightmare. 

And the nights I get to sleep, I’m haunted by his voice asking why I wasn’t there. Im haunted by the fact I’ll never hold him again. I’ll never hear him call me Snowangel again. I can’t even face his parents. I haven’t seen them since the funeral. There wasn’t a body to recover. No one got to say goodbye. Not even his teammates. 

I haven’t set foot in DAMN since the inversion. There are more people im not ready to face. There was a whole student body that was affected by the inversion. An entire student body missing friends and family. And I can’t go back knowing I made it out alive by pure chance. While their family and friends didn’t. 

There are times when I wonder. If I was there maybe I could have given my life. So that Xavier could be here. Perhaps had i said no. or just made some excuse so I could watch him get the award that he deserved. But I didn’t.. He used his puppy dog eyes. And I crumbled like a cookie in his hands.  

When that ward went down. Whenever it went down. I ran in there, I didn’t care who was in my way. I was going to find him. Pushing the thought that I wouldn’t out of my mind. But I couldn’t find him. The pack of wolves who were managing security didn’t remember Xavier coming down. To the makeshift hideout they had. 

Though most of them weren’t able to talk. They all had pretty bad injuries. When I ran into Huxley I wanted to know where was he. But he was holding someone else who had a bad scar going across his chest. But the thing was.. I had searched up and down, everywhere, and hadn’t found Xavier. And my worst thoughts were becoming true. 

I waited. I let the department search just in case. I was just looking for any reason to believe he was still alive. But he wasn’t. My Xavier was gone. Taken away but whatever let those shades lose. He went out like a hero, doing what he did best. Helping others. After the department declared the place safe. 

I went over to the place where all the injured were going. I was trying to keep my hopes up. But when I saw the look on Huxley’s face when he saw me. I knew.. I knew Xavier was gone. I don’t I can ever forget that moment. He just kept saying he was sorry. And I was just numb. He was gone. The truth was finally starting to set in. 

And the realization hit both of us. Xavier was dead. DAMN no longer had a team captain. Huxley no longer had a bestfriend. And I no longer had a partner. And i didn’t even know i was crying. Huxley was just hugging me. We would miss him. His family would miss him. Everyone he helped would miss him. 

He was the light of my life, the light in a lot of people's lives. So hearing he was gone just hurt.. But when things calmed down. I got to meet the person he saved. An incubus named Gavin. I asked Huxley to tell me. And he also helped make a meeting with him.  I’ll admit I was upset with Gavin. For a while.. But meeting him and actively talking to him

Helped me realize, that Xavier knew he was gonna die one way or another. He had to make a choice. And a daemon could do much more. I just wish his death wasn’t the required part. But we can’t change things.

And one of these days I’ll step back onto the doors of DAMN. maybe one day my dreams won’t be plagued with his voice. One day.. But today is not that day. 

I will always miss you, Xavier.. And I plan to avoid 7/11 as well as sodas now. They send me back to that night. And those memories hurt too much to relive. But I have someone to talk to now. And maybe with their help things will get better.