#oh god i did this entire thing in a few hours which is UNHEARD of | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shimmeringclouds · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 4

The train journey was excruciatingly long, just as they remembered it to be. Karatsugu peered out the window beside him, his eyes stuck to the darkening sky above, which was also tinted a slight shade darker due to him wearing his large aviator sunglasses. He watched as the scenery outside gradually changed from strictly endless waves of tall green grass and trees to small buildings in the far distance and flat earth.

Across from him, Hajime sat silently, slouching in his seat as he clutched his large backpack to his chest to rest his chin atop it, his eyes shut as he slept quietly. A small smile came to Karatsugu's lips before he yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand whilst his other arm stretched up above his head. He let it fall down onto his lap lazily as he went back to staring out the window, his leg jumping up and down lightly as he inwardly became impatient.

It had been quite a while since he had last come to Akashika District; a year, to be exact. He still remembered the first time he had visited that place like it was only yesterday, as well as the interesting adventure he and his newfound brothers took part in. Karatsugu smiled fondly at the memory, wondering just what else they would be getting up to this time.

He was quickly snapped out of his daydreams as a voice spoke over the intercom, and although it sounded very fuzzy and full of static, he could just about make out what the voice said:

'We are now arriving at Akashika Station. This is the train's final stop. Please ensure you have all your items of belonging before leaving the train. We are now arriving at...'

The voice repeated itself several more times before it fell silent, and Karatsugu could feel the train begin to slow down. He carefully, and very cautiously, leaned forward to nudge Hajime's knee, attempting to rouse him from his nap.

"Hajime... You need to wake up now, we're here..." he mumbled, gently calling for his younger brother. He could feel a bead of sweat beginning to accumulate on his temple as Hajime didn't stir, prompting him to nudge a tad bit harder whilst also bearing in mind to not push his own luck, lest he want a fist to the face.

Thankfully, that didn't happen, and Hajime grumbled against his backpack as his eyes sluggishly cracked open. His dark gaze landed on Karatsugu for a moment before it wandered around the train compartment, shifting slightly in his seat and raising his head. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, wincing at the soreness from the awkward position he had fallen asleep in.

"... We're here?" he mumbled, barely audible over the ruckus of the train still moving against the tracks. Karatsugu nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket whilst Hajime stretched his arms. Karatsugu swiped through the group chat one of his brothers had created, skimming over his unread messages from hours ago to begin tapping away at his screen.

── SEX🤤🍆tuplets

12:24

[Chorosuke💐🌹] Who changed the group chat name?

[Takashi🍰🍬🍭] Who do u think lol

[Ozo🍺🚖] its gr8 right! sexxxxxxxxxxxx tuplets HAHAH

[Chorosuke💐🌹] Please shut up.

[Ozo🍺🚖] ur alwas so booooooring chorosuk e lolol anyway! karatsugu n hajime! wya?

[Hajime🐈‍⬛🐾] train

That is correct burazzas!~~😎😎✨✨ Our travels have only barely just begun!💫💫 We will be arriving later tonight! I'm sure you are all very excited for our arrival, hmm~~? 🥀🥀🥀🥀😎😎😎😎

[Takashi🍰🍬🍭] We get it plz stop with those ugly ass emojis

[Jyushimatsu��🌼☀️] KARAMATSU NIISAN ICHIMATSU NIISAN HIHHIHUHIHUU!!!!! HIRRY UP I WANNA PLAY!!!!!!

[Chorosuke💐🌹] I don't want to kick you out again, Jyushimatsu. Please don't spam.

── SEX🤤🍆tuplets 19:03

[72 unread messages]

We are arriving at the station!✨✨ Ozo, burazza, would you be so kind as to give us a lift?😎😎😎

[Ozo🍺🚖] sureeee its abt time u guys got here!

[Jyushimatsu🌻🌼☀️] YAYYYYAYA!!! YOUR HERE YOURH ERE!!! OSOMATSU NIISAN CAN I CUM A SWELL????!!!!

[Takashi🍰🍬🍭] oh my god eww

[Ozo🍺🚖] Yh! the more the happier as they say

[Chorosuke💐🌹] It's: 'The more, the merrier.' Honestly, how do you not know?

[Ozo🍺🚖] I ain't no nerd anyway ill be there in 10!

──

Satisfied with Ozo's response, Karatsugu put away his phone and stood up, reaching up to the overhang and carefully sliding his suitcase out and onto the floor. He also did the same for Hajime's suitcase, having a sneaking suspicion that the man wouldn't get it himself, but he wasn't bothered by it.

They waited for the train to pull to a stop, the metal wheels against the tracks squeaking and groaning loudly into the air. The voice over the intercom spoke again, signalling that all passengers were now allowed to leave.

So, with their suitcases in hand and their backpacks slung over their shoulders, the two brothers exited the train and stepped onto the same barren and quiet platform. The warm evening air pushed into their faces, the heat a lot tamer than it would be during the day. Hajime looked up towards the sky for a moment, witnessing the final shreds of sunlight melt away into the night as a dark blanket covered the sky.

"We should head outside," Karatsugu spoke up, his baritone voice echoing around the area, "they could be here any minute, now." He had already begun walking towards the exit, and after a few seconds, he heard his brother's footsteps shuffling along the concrete ground, following him from behind.

Karatsugu stepped out first, taking a deep breath of fresh air as a soft breeze picked up around him briefly before it died down. He smiled at the scenery, already feeling at home with his excitement growing by the second.

"Karamatsu-niisan."

The man screamed, jumping on the spot and tripping over his own feet as he tumbled to the ground, his mouth agape and sunglasses askew on his face, eyes darting around to see where that sudden voice came from, only to find a man standing to his right with a brown paper bag over his head and the roughly cut holes where his eyes should be dark and devoid of life.

Hajime stepped out next, taking one good look at Karatsugu on the ground and raising his brow before looking over to the paper bag man. He barely reacted, only giving a slight nod and saying:

"Long time no see, Jyushimatsu."

"Aha! Same here, Ichimatsu-niisan!" Jyushimatsu laughed, rocking back and forth on his heels giddily. Karatsugu, still on the ground, gradually collected himself and cupped his chin with this thumb and forefinger, smirking as if he hadn't just screamed like he had seen a ghost.

"Heh! Jyushimatsu! It has been some time since we last spoke in person!" Unsurprisingly, Karatsugu went ignored as the other headed towards a car that was parked a little further down the road, with the engine still running and the lights beaming down onto the gravelled path. Karatsugu only hummed amusedly, standing up and brushing himself off, making sure to readjust his glasses before grabbing his things and following behind them, listening in on their conversation.

"A lot of things have changed around here since you last visited, you know!" Jyushimatsu swung his arms back and forth as he walked, the smile in his voice heard through his words.

"Yeah? Like what?" Hajime readjusted his backpack on his shoulder, throwing a side glance towards Jyushimatsu. The paper bag man only giggled, his head now swaying side to side, as if nodding along to some unheard tune.

"Things!" Was all he said as they reached the car. The trio paused as the driver's door opened, and out clambered a grinning Ozo with a beer can in hand.

"Finally! I thought you guys were never gonna show up!" He complained, though there was no bite behind his words. Hajime shook his head as he watched Ozo take a large swig from his can.

"You couldn't wait until we got to that otaku's house to start drinking? I don't want to die because of your shitty driving..." he shuffled over to the car, opening the trunk and pushing his suitcase in there as Jyushimatsu sat in the back seats.

"I'm not a lightweight! I can handle more than one can, y'know!" Ozo sat back down in his seat, and Karatsugu also went over to place his suitcase in the trunk before closing it. Hajime sat in the back with Jyushimatsu, leaving the passenger seat up front available. Once they were all settled in the car, Ozo manoeuvred the car out of its parked position and back onto the road.

"Let's chuck your stuff at that guy's place, and then we can go drinking!" Ozo cheered, Jyushimatsu matching his excitement. Karatsugu couldn't help but laugh, and even Hajime couldn't control the small smirk that crept its way onto his face, which he quickly hid behind his backpack.

It was nice to be back.

»»-----　♔　-----««

You sighed softly as you wiped down the bar top with the slightly damp cloth in your palm. Glancing at the small clock on the wall behind you, you took note of how it had been just over an hour since your shift at Bang Bang Chicken Bar had started and, as per usual, barely anyone had entered the bar. There was that one regular customer who had already came and went — a man with very large front teeth who asked for the same drink every other night, attempted to flirt with you, then would leave with the promise of coming back as a rich French man... whatever that means.

Another sigh escaped you. It was now just past nine o'clock, and you had a strong feeling that the hours were going to slip by a lot slower than you would like. That, and coupled with the fact that you would be the only one working at the bar at this hour (aside from your boss, who would be cooped up in his office until early hours of the morning), you knew it would be yet another boring night ahead.

Well, maybe not entirely boring.

The sound of drums suddenly filled the silence in the bar, which was soon followed by the sound of heavy strums of electric guitars and keyboards. A woman's voice began belting lyrics into the microphone. You watched the band, Killer Fish, perform on the raised platform in the centre of the room, the seven women on stage lost in their own world of death metal music as their heads nodded along violently to the beat.

When you had first started working at Bang Bang Chicken Bar — an obscure bar at the end of a long, winding and empty road on the outskirts of Akatsuka Village — you did not expect the seven quiet and well-dressed women on the stage to start singing death metal. It scared you half to death the first time you heard the screech of guitar strings echoing through the desolate bar. Even the lead singer, Totoko, dressed in a formal Japanese yukata with her hair styled up in an old-fashioned bun, her face stoic and serious, shocked you with her booming voice and scratchy vocals of a true death metal singer.

It was all so unexpected, and the tremors of the music had left you slightly shaky once the first performance was over. Now, though, you had become used to the music, and although it wasn't your preferred choice of music, you began to enjoy the performances. It made the whole bar feel so much more alive.

By the time you snapped out of your thoughts, the performance was over and the group was setting themselves up for another song. You, with nothing better to do, decided you would turn to the shelves stacked with all kinds of alcoholic drinks behind you and sort through them again, making sure they were presented with their labels faced towards the patrons and that they were organised neatly, despite the fact that you had already done this. Three times.

Whilst you mindlessly traced your fingers along the glass bottles, the music started up again, drowning out the sound of the door to the bar opening.

In walked six men, each dressed in black suits, and each of them boisterous and excited to begin their night of drinking. They awed at the group on stage for a moment before one of them took charge and pushed them over to an empty table in the middle of the room. They took their seats and began conversing with each other, laughing at some joke someone made or at another's crazy antics.

Eventually, two of them stood up from their seats, one seemingly more casual with his hands tucked into his pockets whilst the other, donning a black yukata, seemed more uptight with an annoyed frown pressed onto his upturned lips. The two began making their way over to the bar, where you were stood with your back still turned, oblivious of what was happening behind you until your ears picked up the sound of two men conversing.

You tilted your head slightly, squinting your eyes as if it would help with figuring out whether you were hearing things or not, but as the voices grew closer, your eyes widened as you realised no, this wasn't your imagination, and there were actually other customers in the bar.

Turning on your heel, you physically felt your brain fizzle and pop like an old lightbulb at the sight of the two men coming closer towards you, their faces still fresh in your mind from the first time you had encountered them on separate occasions.

"Come on, Chorosuke! You're loaded! A couple of drinks with your money won't hurt anyone!" It was that taxi driver from the other day who was talking, that same sleazy grin displayed proudly on his face as he poked fun at the man next time him; that man from the store who had given you that watermelon, which actually was sweet.

"You and I both know you won't be having 'a couple of drinks!' And you have your own money! Pay for yourself!" He shouted over the music, his eyes narrowing in frustration as he knew all too well that he would inevitably be paying for the drinks. You could only stand in silence as they grew closer and closer, neither of them truly paying attention to your presence as they continued to bicker back and forth until they were stood right in front of you.

Ozo turned to you first, his mouth opening to make his request until his half-lidded eyes locked onto your face. He frowned for a split-second before his eyes widened, the smirk on his lips stretching into an excited grin as he instantly recognised you. Chorosuke, confused by his brother's odd reaction, turned to you as well, only for his expression to fall into a look of horror, his pale cheeks flushing a bright crimson.

"It's you!" They exclaimed together, their tones completely opposite to one another. Pausing, they whipped their heads to look at each other confusedly. "Wait, what?" they questioned in unison.

"How do you know her?" Chorosuke quickly demanded, his eyes flitting between your nervous form and the man beside him.

"I told you, I met a pretty girl yesterday!" Ozo reminded him, "And what about you?"

"I-I, well... We bumped into each other at the market the other day..." Chorosuke's voice trailed off, secretly hoping you would remember him so that he wouldn't be humiliated in front of the one man who wouldn't let something like this go. Lucky for him, you did remember. You remembered that interaction all too well.

"Really?! Wow! Small world, right?" Ozo turned to you, leaning against the bar top with one arm as he gave you a quick once over, a flirtatious look in his eyes that only served to make you shrink into yourself. "Do you remember me? I dropped you off yesterday! Man, if I knew you worked here, I would come by more often!"

They seemed to be waiting for some kind of reaction from you, so you took a minute step back from the countertop and chuckled nervously, an odd smile on your face that probably didn't look like a smile at all.

"Aha... Yeah! Hi... again..."

This was going to be a long, long night.

#hereeee it is #after so long #also if the texting scene looks weird #its cuz tumblr formatting is shit #srry bout that #anywayssss hope u all enjoy! <3 #osomatsu san #osomatsu san au #denki mystery #osomatsu x reader #karmatsu x reader #choromatsu x reader #ichimatsu x reader #jyushimatsu x reader #todomatsu x reader

12 notes · View notes

kageyamas-love · 4 years ago

Note

Hi friend! Can i request an Aot match up-preferably one of the scouts if at all possible... i don’t know the warriors very well? I hope that’s not to limiting but anyone from paradise basically. I know Reiner! But i just don’t know that much about Porco or pieke. Oh! Colt seems really sweet though! I appreciate him! Male preferably but I’m always open to other options! Whatever you feel is the best option for me i shall take with open arms and trust your judgment!

I’m a female, 18. My favorite color is blue! Or if not that... maybe a light lavender purple. It’s ironic seeing as I’m... deathly allergic to lavender... and many many other things... like everything. I have severe allergy problems. But that’s unimportant. Maybe i could list that as the thing i don’t like about myself. Also... I’m kinda disorganized... it’s the ADHD. My brain runs 1000 miles a minute... constantly. How could i possibly remember where i put something when i only know how to chase the dopamine? Also because of this, i get VERY excited when i talk and i have been known to ramble. I do my best. I just get over invested in things. Hyper fixations and shit- i just... stay on the same shit for weeks. Attack on titan has been my comfort hyper fixation for almost four-five years. I need. Help.

It’s probably gonna be a lot harder to list things i like about myself... damn. I like my hair! It’s reddish blond and it makes me look like Ariel when i go underwater- which is fun because i love to swim! And i like my jokes. I make them constantly and sometimes I’m the only one that laughs but i think they’re funny so what fucking ever.

For hobbies- I’m a writer! I love to write and draw. I make graphic novels. 100% obsessed with all of my oc’s. I’m always bullshitting about them or some new animatic I’m working on. Constantly.... it’s like... the only thing i ever think about if I’m not fantasizing about attack on titan. Thank god I’m actually working to make a career out of it though. I’m an Art major, though i do not wish to disclose to university for privacy reasons and shit.... so i basically get to draw all day and be quirky... except for when i have my biology class... which is always less fun and i fucking suck at it.

I consider myself to be a really forgiving and sweet person. It always takes me a really really long time to get mad at someone enough to blow up on them, and even then i typically always apologize for it afterwards, even if i said something as tame as

“I don’t like that and you hurt my feelings.”

I love taking care of my friends. It’s my love language, along with physical touch and quality time. I just.... Wanna... cuddle. I’m very cuddly... probably need someone who’s not super averse to touch as i like to give lots of random hugs and kisses.

I shall give many back rubs and head scratches and soft kisses and in return i only ask for the cuddles- and i love when people play with my hair so i grew it out super long!!

I feel like i need someone who’s a good listener... because i ramble about stuff a lot. Especially stuff I’m passionate about. I feel like if somebody isn’t listening to me it makes me feel unheard and like what I’m talking about is stupid and i shut down.

And a few random fun facts.

*If i were a member of the Levi squad post timeskip i would be the shortest member, standing at 5’1

* I am deathly afraid of pineapples for no reason at all. I did a project for school where i just drew a still life of nothing but pineapples and pineapple themed objects and titled it ‘terror’. Only i and a few close friends will ever understand it’s true meaning.

* i fall down the stairs or eat the floor in some other horrible fashion it least twice a day

* i drink more than i eat (not alcohol) and spend like all of my money on iced coffee and sodas until i realize i haven’t eaten in two days but by god have i had a Baha blast.

* sometimes i just fucking drive in circles for hours. I sing really loud in my car and dance and it’s therapeutic.

* I’m one of those people that starts laughing insanely when i get really upset or pissed off... it makes me look terrifying.

* I HAVE A PET LIZARD AND SHE’S FUCKING ROTUND. SHES LIKE A FAT FUCKING LITTLE MEATLOAF I HATE HER. (I’m lying i absolutely adore her.) her name is Maple because she is flat and pancakes are flat and maple syrup goes on pancakes. All she knows how to do is eat berries and shit in my floor.

I know you only asked for a little bit of information but I’ve heard before that the more you tell someone the easier it is for them to match you up. I figured I’d make it as absolutely easy for you as possible by throwing my entire life into a page for you.

a/n omg you seem so fun and crazy we’d get along great😐✋🏻

i match you with armin!

i think the two of you would get along so well! first off, he’s best friends with eren, so he won’t have a problem with your craziness.

he’s also very open minded and a very good listener! he’d never get annoyed with you and he’s very patient, so if you’ve ever forgotten something, he’ll understand.

just in general, your love languages would compliment his.

also, he would love your lizard. he’s interested in the smallest things so imagine him seeing your lizard? he’s going to be so excited like ‘i’ve read about those! i’ve always wanted to see one in real life!”

#armin x reader #armin aot #aot matchup #armin arlet x reader #aot #aot x reader

7 notes · View notes

auroras-blend · 4 years ago

Text

Princess Charming

Summary: Wherever the Winslow women go, a man is there to follow them.

Marilyn watched her Mama sing along with the rest of the congregations, her voice unheard in a myriad of bad singers. Marilyn’s psalm book was open, but she didn’t really care to follow along, mainly because she couldn’t read all of the words yet. Mama’s gaze was focused on Pastor Marks leading the congregation, her eyes looking bored and uninterested. I don’t blame her. Today’s sermon was really boring.

Marilyn’s prayers included wishing services would end soon, and thank the Lord, her prayers were fortunately answered. They were squished at the very end of the pews and had to wait for everyone else to leave. Sweaty and sticky congregants filed out ungracefully as they picked up their jackets, purses, and anything that had dropped on the floor. Mama, still looked remarkably beautiful. Her chestnut hair was down, hanging beside her cheeks and framed her round youthful face. She wore a modest brown dress that had buttons on the bodice, a sharp contrast to the bright bubbly pastels the other women were wearing. Marilyn insisted on matching with her Mama, so she wore a chocolate brown dress with a white bow wrapped around her waist.

Her own curls were tucked behind her ears. She had made an effort to keep her blonde locks out of the way, so people wouldn’t pay attention to the differences between her and Mama. When they saw the differences, they saw that Mama had no husband and Marilyn had no Papa. Because I have his hair. When they were finally released from purgatory, “Marilyn don’t be dramatic,” Mama chastised which is when Marilyn realized she had said it out loud.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

They squeezed through the pew until they finally got at the end, sweet freedom before Mr. Baker stepped in front of their way out. “Patience,” he greeted with a smile, “You look lovely today.”

His smile always showed too many teeth and made his rosy cheeks flush redder. He was a foot taller than Mama and quite portly. The buttons of his suit stretched and his seams were close to bursting. He was brown-haired and brown-eyed, and in Marilyn’s opinion, was utterly ordinary. Not good enough for Mama. Mr. Baker was popular in their church and community; he owned a successful furniture store and was chair of the men’s club at the Summerfield Country Club. Everyone liked Mr. Baker, except the Winslows who thought he was the most annoying man in existence.

He was insistent and was always the first to catch them before they left the church, and took it upon himself to try and insert himself into their lives. “You need a man to mow your lawn?” or “You need a man to fix your sink?” He always made an effort to remind them that there was no man in their lives and thus they were missing out on God’s gift to humanity. Mr. Baker had met Mama when she shopped for her crib, and it was since then Mama had always made a point to buy their furniture from the thrift store. It annoyed Marilyn because it always made them look poor (they were but they didn’t want people to notice!). “Thank you,” Mama said, holding her hand tightly, “May we move past?”

“Oh, of course,” Mr. Baker smiled, as he gestured with a polite bow as he stepped away from their exit.

Mama nodded but unfortunately, Mr. Baker put himself in front of her again. “Say Patience, it’s been a while since we talked…”

“Has it?” Mama asked tensely, trying to shake him off.

“Well yes, it has. I realized that just yesterday. You know, I was driving by your house and I noticed that the pathway is uneven…”

“You don’t say,” Mama said dryly as she tried to take off.

Can he leave us alone now? “I’d hate it if either of you tripped. Especially Marilyn,” he said without looking at her, “I’d be happy to come by and fix it.”

Mama and she noticed that the fishwives had fallen quiet as they looked over at the exchange, as had the Pastor and his wife. Usually, Mama was a lot blunter but being in the House of God and in front of their pastor put a rein on her mouth. Mama cleared her throat, “Well, that’s awfully kind of you, but-”

“I can come by this afternoon then,” he said, inviting himself over, “Around 2 PM.”

“Mr. Baker, I’m afraid that-,” she began before he cut her off again.

“It shouldn’t take more than a few hours. Then, if you’d like, I could take you out for dinner,” he smiled, his pudgy cheeks cupping his brown eyes.

Marilyn froze. As unlikable as their family was in the eyes of their congregation, it didn’t stop single men from going after her mother. To make her a "good and honest" woman. Mama was still very pretty and one of the only reasonably aged single women in the town. Any marriage would inevitably improve her and Marilyn’s standing, especially to someone like Mr. Baker. This is why they were the turn of the gossip whenever Mama refused a man.

“Mr. Baker, that’s a very generous offer, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of the pathway myself and I can’t leave her home alone,” she said.

That was true. Mama never left her home alone. The grocery store? Sure! But never at home. Mama gestured to Marilyn as if to remind him that she had a young child, the proof that she was a social pariah. “Of course,” he coughed, “Which is why I’d love to even the pathway. You have enough on your plate trying to take care of a child. It’d be free of charge.”

Mama pursed her lips, “As I said, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her and our house by myself. Please, Mr. Baker, we must go now.”

Mr. Baker would always call Mama by her first name, but Mama always called him Mr. Baker. She somehow thought that would keep him from trying to become even more personal with her. “Well, I think-,” he pushed before Marilyn cut him off.

“Mommy, I feel sick,” Marilyn lied dramatically, clutching her tummy as if it hurt.

She had decided it was about time someone rescued her Mama, and if no one else would do it, then she would herself. Mama looked down at her, a frown that showed either annoyance or concern. “Excuse me. I’ve got to take her home,” and with that Mama pushed past him and pulled Marilyn roughly through the doors who dramatically whined to sell her part.

When she entered the car, the first thing Mama said was, “Don’t throw up until we get out of the car.”

“I’m not sick. I just did it so we could leave,” Marilyn laughed.

Mama’s green eyes met Marilyn’s from the rear-view mirror, her own alight with a twinkle of mischief. It was such a shame Marilyn could only see her Mama's eyes because if she had been able to see her entire face, she would’ve seen her smile. “Let’s go home,” she said, her voice less cold and bitter.

Marilyn grinned. I'm her Princess Charming.

#i should work on my wip #but patience & marilyn moments #wanted a bit of fluff after last chapter #couldn't size the gif quite right #but eh #flashback #short story #once upon a dream #i love marilyn #she's so cute and wholesome #way less bratty when she lived with patience #🙄 🤢#the two emojis i wish i could've used in the story

4 notes · View notes

return-of-a-space-cowboy · 5 years ago

Note

Do you write poly?? Cause if you do, for the soulmate au could you do Sorbet and Gelato with prompt two, where their soulmate has their names on each wrist (sorbet on one, Gelatos on the other) and maybe having two soulmates is rare, if not completely unheard of, so their soulmate has tried covering their names basically her entire life and is reluctant to enter a relationship with two people. Like, their thought process could be ‘well, you already have each other you don’t need me’ or something

Yeah I write poly!

Forever

(yandere Sorbet and Gelato X Female Reader)

Having a soul mate was rare but two was a was pretty much unheard of and unfortunately you had to be the only known example you knew. The idea of soulmates was a sacred thing in your family every member had and met theirs.

your mother and father would alway tell you about how they met each other and how their names were written on each others wrist and how one day the weird birthmark on your wrist would form the name of your soulmate but you mother and father were shocked when birth mark had revealed not one, but two names. The idea of having more then one partner was alien to you and basically went against family morals so you were simply told to hide the names and pretend they didn't exist.

Now as a twenty years old you sat at your desk as you listened to your lecturer or at least tried. Your dorm mate Marissa had left mid term to see her grandfather whose health had make a fast decline. Sure you understand her dilemma but she was the one out of two of you who knew how to cook, so of course you were struggling to feed yourself.

Your stomach growled at you, screaming if it could to get the food it desperately needed since you had refused to eat the bacon and eggs you had burnt to a crisp this morning. You hoped that tonight you might just be able to successfully prepare something to last you a week.

The class had finally been dismissed and you packed up your bag before walking out. You let out a sigh as you got a fresh breath of air and felt the warm sun on your skin. It seemed like a wonderful day as you headed back to your dorm.

Out the front of your dorm two men around you age leaning against the wall, their cold dark eyes instantly shifted to you once you were in view. You had never seen them around campus so you knew they were up to no good.

"Hello, do you need anything?" You asked as you approached the door. The men stood up and both cracked you a smile before the blonde spoke.

"Is your name (Y/n)?"

"Yes it is, why are asking?" You said in a cautious tone.

"We've been looking for you everywhere" the black haired male said as they both showed you the inside of their wrists. The blonde had (Y/n) and Sorbet on his while the ravenette had (Y/n) and Gelato. You stepped back in absolute shock as you mumbled their names.

"Yep that's us, we've been waiting so long to meet you" Gelato said in a cheerful tone.

"What's wrong (Y/n)? You look like you've seen a ghost" Sorbet chuckled.

"How did you guys find out where I was?" You asked and the both of them simply looked at each other with a grin and chuckled.

"We have our ways" they replied in union.

"We just came here to take you out for dinner" Sorbet purred.

"No, I couldn't possibly!" You replied.

"Why not? If your worried about money then you shouldn't, we'll pay" Gelato explained. You felt your stomach twist up in fear.

"I'm not really in going out clothes..." You mumbled, desperately trying to make up any excuse.

"Well then get changed. Do you think we'd harm you?" Sorbet said.

"Well I've never met you-" you responded before you heard a click and felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed against your forehead. The blonde who held it cracked a cruel laugh as a devilish grin grew on his lips.

"Stop dancing around the question, you shouldn't turn down a man's offer for dinner, it's very rude" he hissed in a voice of sickeningly sweet venom.

"just go inside and get changed, make it quick too because if we're late then our reservation will be overturned" Sorbet said as he grabbed your bag and looked for your keys.

"And I don't think we'd be happy about that" Gelato said as he watched you as his boyfriend grabbed your keys and opened the door. Gelato shoved the gun at you, giving you a small wack indicating you to enter. You simply abided as they guided you to your bedroom before Sorbet walked to your wardrobe and opened it while Gelato guided you to the bed, you were so scared. You didn't know what the two males were going to do to you.

"Strip" was the single word that shook you to your very core, the one word you didn't want to here.

"But-" you tried to argue but the blonde pressed the gun to your temple.

"Bang!" Gelato yelled out as he flicked the gun back to mimic the recoil which made you body freeze up and your heart almost give out.

"That was your last chance, next time it's gonna be the real deal" he chuckled.

"So I'll repeat myself, strip!" He continued as his voice instantly turned cold and harsh.

You stood up and slowly began to remove the articles of clothing you wore until you were in your bra and panties.

"Your even more beautiful then in the photo's" Sorbet commented as he held out one of your dresses and Gelato's face crinkled up.

"Is that the best dress you own? God you need a wardrobe lift" he snarled.

"Well I don't go out on dinner dates!" You hissed back before he aimed the gun at you again and pulled back the trigger. You shut your eyes and mentally prayed that your impending death would be quick and painless but no bullet came.

"Oh silly me... I forgot the safety was on, I guess you got one more chance" he said in a tone soft but also harsh.

"You best be counting your lucky stars the next time you decide to play up" he continued with a hiss as he took the safety off. While Sorbet put the dress on you. You yelped when felt his teeth tug on your earlobe.

The twe males pulled you besides them by the waist while guiding you away. The gun occasionally digging into your shoulder blade as they forced you into their car.

🍦🍦🍦

After an hour the car finally stopped in a carpark and the two got out before Sorbet opened your door with one hand while he roughly grabbed your wrist and yanked you up causing your elbow to crack. Gelato simply watched as he placed his pistol under his jacket where it was hidden.

"Lest just try to enjoy a nice dinner, I'd be a shame if we had to start gunning people down at one of Naples best restaurants" Gelato said as he locked the car and began to walk.

"You guys are unhinged..." You commented in a voice full of worry.

"I wouldn't say unhinged... Passionate is a better way of putting it" Gelato smirked.

"Well actually you're just a brat..." Sorbet commented causing the blonde to pout.

"I am not!" He exclaimed.

"You were pestering me for three hours straight over a diamond ring" the ravenette retorted before pulling you in by the waist and walking toward the other male.

"It was really pretty, we've been dating for three years now... A proposal would be appreciated"Gelato muttered but Sorbet either didn't hear him or just straight up ignored him.

"I bet you won't let me give our dear (Y/n) the first kiss" he smirked and the blonde scowled.

"I'm the one in charge so it's only right that I do" he continued.

"Well I'm older then you and that means you gotta respect me" Gelato spat back.

"You've just proven my point" Sorbet chuckled as he leaned pinched his partners puffed cheek.

"Oww that hurts! You pinch like my auntie Rosa" he complained as he slapped his partners hand away.

"I can't help it they're so soft" Sorbet chuckled which annoyed the red faced blonde.

Gelato let out a sigh before the smile returned to his lips for a split moment before he grabbed the back of your head and smashed his lip against yours. You froze in shock as you felt his lips against your own but you finally found the strength to push him away when you felt him nibble your bottom lip.

"Aw what's the matter? never kissed someone before?" Gelato taunted, you simply didn't reply. You had never kissed before, you just hadn't ever been interested in a relationship.

"You haven't, have you?" Sorbet said as if he could read your mind.

"Well that's alright, it makes all the more special for me" Gelato said slyly as he pulled you out of Sorbets arms and into his as he guided you to the restaurant. And pushed you down into a seat before sitting down themselves.

"So tell us (Y/n) what have you been doing with your life for all these years?" Sorbet asked, of course the two males already knew the answer but they wanted to hear it in your own words.

"Well... I lived with my parents here in Italy, I had a fairly normal upbringing" you said.

"Continue" Gelato said.

"During my highschool years I decided I'd continue on my education and that's why I moved to Naples to attend University" you explained.

"So you're not a local of Naples, how's it been treating you?" Sorbet asked.

"It's nice... But there is alot of mafia activity around, which is rather concerning" you replied as you picked up the menu and looked through it.

"Oh you'll get use to it, I use to live in Rome until recently. I admit when I first moved to Naples I was overwhelmed" Gelato explained to you before looking at Sorbet.

"Then when I met Sorbet all my worries seemed to disappear" he mused before giving him a peck.

"You two seem really close three years is a big milestone... Or at least to me" you commented.

"Yeah, we met when he first moved to Naples, I helped him out with directions one day and I didn't think much of it, a few days later I found out that he began work at the same place I did" Sorbet said.

"We swapped numbers and caught up every once and a while, I had to be the one to ask him out thou" Gelato added with a chuckle.

"If you two are happy with each other, then why do you guys want me? Don't you think three people is a bit too overbearing in a romantic relationship?" You asked.

"I don't three is too much, what are you afraid of? Don't you think we could give you twice the love anyone else could?" Gelato cooed.

You nails dug into you skin as you tried you best not to say what you wanted to. The two males have a sinister, twisted side hidden under their sweet facade and you didn't want to make them snap.

"Not talking huh?" Gelato asked as he swiftly kicked your shin from under the table. You bit your lip, so desperate to not let anyone here you yelp in pain.

"He's asking you a question" Sorbet growled only loud enough for you and Gelato to hear.

"It's just that polygamy isn't really accepted in my family" you explained.

The two continued to chat to you though out the night and eventually the food had arrived. During your meal an idea popped into your mind.

"Could you two please excuse me? I need to go to the bathroom"

"Sure it's on the left, near the kitchen" Sorbet explained as you stood up and walked away. You could see the large tree that obscured the view they had. You took this advantage to go into the kitchen instead, of course you weren't greeted in a friendly manner as you rushed past the chefs to get to the back exit. You opened the door and a gust of the cold breeze brushed against your skin. You entered the dark side ally and looked for anyway you could get help. In the distance a phone booth could be seen, a dim light flickering inside it.

You ran as fast as you could, adrenaline pumping though your veins as your mind began to wonder, did the two males know that you had made an escape? You hoped they hadn't.

You nearly ripped the door off of it's hinges as you opened the door only to then realised you had no money. You desperately dug you hand into the change shoot hoping someone had forgotten to take theirs but Lady luck wasn't on your side.

A knock on the door Brough your attention to the old man waiting outside.

"I'm sorry do you perhaps have some spare change? I left my phone at home and I really need to call a friend to pick me up" you asked the male as you opened the door. He simply grabbed some coins from his pocket and placed them in you hand.

"Of course, I came to see if you were alright anyway, you seem to be scared" he replied.

"Thank you sir"

"No problem, if I had just walked past only to find out the next day something had happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself" he replied.

"I hope have a safe night" he added before leaving.

"You too" you replied before closing the door once more and putting the coins in the slot and dialling Marissa's number. She lived locally and had insisted you call her if anything happened while she was gone.

The phone began to ring. Once, twice...

"Hello?" A familiar voice said.

"It's me (Y/n), I'm stuck in the middle of Naples and I need your help ASAP!" You responded.

"(Y/n) what happened?"

"Two guys were outside our dorm... They asked me out for dinner but when I tried to tell them no they pulled a gun to my head... They forced me to go with them" you began to sob.

"Oh shit, where are you?" She asked.

"I don't know..." You mumbled as you looked around before seeing the street name and telling her.

"I'll pick you up soon. I'll take you back to my parents house, I'm sure they won't mind. Just stay on the line!" She said.

"I'm on a payphone!" You replied.

"Well I'll call you back!" She responded before hanging up and calling you again.

You talked to her for a few minutes as you waited for her to arrive, one she had you quickly ran to the car and got in.

"Thank you so much..." You sobbed.

"It's ok, anything for you" she replied with a smile before a gun shot erupted. Your heart threatened to burst as you saw the two males in the side mirror.

"Quick step on it!"you nearly screamed. Without a second thought she slammed her foot down on the accelerator and the car sped off.

"How the hell did you attract the attention of those nut jobs?!" She said asked in a panicked tone.

"They're my my soulmates... Well I'm not even sure now" you explained.

"Which one?" She asked.

"Both" you replied as you showed your wrist to her.

"That's just unfortunate..." She sighed.

🍦🍦🍦

Once you had gotten to Marissa's house her parents had welcomed you and offered you some clothes and a bed. They didn't ask you any questions or pry an answer out of Marissa, they just offered any assistance they could.

You rolled yourself up in the plush doona as you tried your best to go to sleep. You watched the clock tick away, counting each second until you drifted off to sleep. Completely unaware of the nightmare you would wake up to.

🍦🍦🍦

A scream erupted from Marissa's lips as she saw the two familiar men that stood on-top of her parents bloody bodies. Sorbet holding a pocket knife while Gelato had a wooden baseball bat over his shoulder, their dark eyes clouded with insanity.

"You bastards! They had nothing to do with this!" You screamed as tears clouded your vision.

"(Y/n), this could have all simply been avoided if you had been honest" Gelato cooed.

"We could have had such a happy relationship with each other but you had to ruin that... Didn't you?" Sorbet added before grabbing Marissa by the hair. She yelped out in pain as she tried her best the struggle but it was a futile attempt as the knife was driven into her stomach. You tried you best to look away but Gelato grabbed you and forced you to watch as your friend was mercilessly stabbed over and over again until she was certainly dead. When he let go you crawled over to her body.

You cried and wailed as your friend laid motionlessly in a pool of her own blood unaware of the fact that Gelato readied his bat. He swang it back behind his head and brought it down into you side causing you body to be thrown back by the force. You screamed out in pain, the force could have possibly broken a few ribs.

"Now this is your punishment for playing us like fools!" Gelato squealed in sinister delight before he bring down the bat again and again as Sorbet laughed at your pain.

Slowly each hit caused your body to grow numb and brought you closer to the inky darkness. You didn't know if you were dying or just lossing consciousness but you desperately hoped it was death. You didn't know how you were going to live after the blonde mangled you.

#la squadra #yandere x reader #yandere jjba #yandere #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo golden wind #sorbet and gelato #spacy works

121 notes · View notes

human-trash-fire · 5 years ago

Text

Shot Through The Heart: CH4

I couldn’t wait to share the next chapter, so you beautiful humans are getting it early! As always mad shout-outs to everyone who is following along/ RB/ liking this fic <3 I can’t tell you all how fucking grateful I am for all of you.

special thanks to @highqueenofelfhame for previewing the fic and making me feel like it’s worth it to write!

As always the fic is available in its entirety on ao3 glam_reaper2

** IMPORTANT NOTE: The header image is 100% what Rowan imagines when she takes a shot even though it definitely didn’t go down that way.**

******************************************************************************** Aelin:

Two weeks had come and gone since she had hauled the giant box full of goodies to the post office. Fenrys told her that mail was always delayed but that he was both excited and grateful they had sent them something. She made him promise two things: one, he wouldn’t tell the rest of the cadre that a package was coming. Aelin knew that they mentioned sending the boys something, but she didn’t want them to know when. And two, they had to open their care packages ‘Yulemas style’ all sitting around, on Skype, so Lys, Elide and her could watch their faces/ get a chance to finally talk to them face to face.

During those two weeks they continued their flirty conversation when he wasn’t on mission and away from his phone. She woke up nearly every morning to a text, and fell asleep texting him each night. After the first few days they had moved their conversation off twitter, they iMessaged back and forth and had exchanged Snapchat information so they could send each-other little videos and such. Talking to Fenrys was comfortable. He found a way to brighten almost any situation, and she found that anytime she was irritated recently he could always cheer her up. She kept most of her past private, and though he volunteered more intimate details of his life he never pushed her to share hers. It was nice, if she was being honest, even if this went absolutely no where she was so glad to have met him.

Fenrys told her stories about his friends too, Aelin got the impression that he was kind of like their glue. He was the youngest at 27 (apparently Connall was born 3 minutes earlier and had lorded that fact over him for as long as he could remember). Vaughn and Gavriel were both 28, Rowan was 29, and Lorcan (Elide’s new project) was 30. He and Connall had enlisted when they were 18, they attended training in Perranth and ended up qualifying for special forces at an unheard of 19. That’s when they met the others, the Cadre. Aelin laughed so hard when she found out that’s what they’re known as in the military world, she had thought she was just being cheeky when she’d called them so in their video. That’s also how Connall had met Vaughn. Apparently, he spent 4 years pining after him.

>> So how did they end up together?

<< It was so obvious they were into each other but too ‘bro’ to say anything. Worried about “team dynamic” or whatever, because Gods know we didn’t give a shit if they’re together. Then one day we’re taking shots at a bar, Con is talking to some dude, I think he was honestly trying to get over his feelings. Vaughn sees this and gets mad jealous, slams a double shot of Johnny Walker, mutters ‘fuck it’ and storms right up to them. He grabs other dude by the shoulder, shoved him out of the way, and right as Con was about to say something he kissed him. We cheered, we all got entirely too drunk, and now here we are! It’s been 4 years and I’m so happy for them.

>> That’s fucking amazing, and honestly romantic! <3

The Cadre as it stood now had been the most elite team for 8 years, running blackops around the world. And tonight was the night she and the girls would get to talk to them for the first time. Aelin was so excited she could barely contain it, there was nothing more fulfilling than giving someone a gift in her opinion.

*********************************************************

Rowan:

They finally had some down time. Command had promised them 2 days, which was more time than Rowan had expected. They’d been running themselves ragged ever since they discovered Maeve was in country. There was talk about an intel operative gathering more information on her plan, but so far they hadn’t gotten the call Rowan had waited 5 years for. He wanted a green light. He wanted her dead. He was stuck waiting on orders, and had spent 2 weeks seething while they ran, in his opinion, bullshit missions up and down the sector.

It had also been two weeks since Rowan had woken up to two instagram notifications. He had, in all honesty, forgotten he had the app. Work was his life, and he was never big on social media, but there they were. It was 0330 and he reached over, seeing the notifications he clicked and his jaw hit the floor. Aelin Galathynius had not only followed him but liked one of his pictures… The oldest picture there. What the fuck? He thought as he stared at her name right below the picture. This has to be an accident, but why would she be looking this far back? He didn’t really know how to feel about it. She was stunning, she was famous, and she was Fen’s date. She shouldn’t be liking his shit on instagram. She should even know who he was.

He clicked her name.

There were hundreds of pictures, her with her friend’s, her with her dog, her with nearly every famous young person in Orynth. There were red carpet photos and vacation photos, little videos from different movie sets and links to fundraisers for various social causes. He didn’t realize he’d been scrolling through them for so long until Fenrys yelled at him for sleeping in. He quickly shut down the app and hurried off.

For the next two weeks he found himself going back to her instagram more that any healthy person should. There was something about her eyes, there had always been something about her eyes, since the first time he saw her on screen. They swallowed him whole, it was like drowning in an ocean of fire and- what the hell is wrong with you? Get your shit together Whitethorn. He chided himself. His mind was all over the damn place. Fenrys, as expected, hadn’t kept to his “no talking about her ever again” end of the bargain. Being his spotter he was with him nearly 18 hours a day, the boy never shut up. Apparently they hadn’t stopped talking, and Rowan caught him sending stupid snapchats or typing furiously with a shit-eating grin on his face nearly ever moment they were back with their phones. Everytime his face lit up, or he said something like “Aelin was saying…” he found himself clenching his jaw. He had no idea why, he was happy for Fen, this was his dream come true.

Rowans jaw hurt.

*********************************

“Wash up boys, and try to look presentable, meet me in the office at 1700. Don’t fucking be late,” Fenrys said to them after training. It may be down time, but they all still met at the base gym for a few hours of PT in the afternoon.

“What the hell for?” Lorcan grumbled. Fenrys just winked and sauntered towards the showers.

1655 on the dot Rowan walked into the office, followed by Connall and Vaughn. The others were already there, Lorcan and Gavriel looking just as confused as he felt, and Fenrys with that insufferable grin plastered on his face. He had showered, brushed his hair, and put on possibly the tightest shirt he owned with a pair of black joggers. Rowan caught his eye and lifted a brow.

“Alright you grumpy bastards, grab a chair and come here,” Fenrys instructed while pointing towards the projector they used for movie nights. It had a camera attached to the top for more official calls with command, and they often used it to Skype their families back home. Skype was pulled up now, and they all found their seats in front of the screen. Rowan sitting towards the center chair that was left open for Fen. Vaughn and Connall had taken the two to his right while Lorcan and Gavriel brought up the other end.

Fen was dragging a giant box out from beneath his desk when the familiar ringing began to echo through the room. He immediately dropped it in front of his chair and scrambled to answer the call. “Hello gorgeous,” he purred as the image on the screen in front of them came into focus. Once again, the cadre was floored.

“Hello handsome,” Aelin winked. “Gentleman” she nodded to them all and stepped back. Alongside her sat Elide and Lysandra, smiling and waving at the screen. The men sat up a little straighter, and awkwardly waved back.

“Is it ready?” Aelin practically squealed.

“Yeah! Should I open it?” Fenrys asked, and Rowans attention shot back to the moving box in front of their chairs. No way, he thought. They had mentioned the possibility of sending them something but he didn’t honestly believe it would happen. Agreeing to come to the ball was already unbelievable, but a care package? The box was so big it easily could have fit a body.

“One second. Okay so Hi, I’m Aelin, obviously, and these are my girls.” She gestured beside her. “It’s so nice to officially get to talk to you all! We’ve heard so much about you from Fen.”

Fen, she says. Like they’re close. Rowan’s jaw clenched again. He shook his head and crossed his arms, then uncrossed them because he realized he probably looked rude. He didn’t know what to do with his hands and was so busy trying to look nonchalant he was startled when he heard his name.

“Whitethorn!” Fen yelled, it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d called for him. “Say hello to the women and try and remember your manners.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat. “Hey... I’m Rowan.”

“We know,” Aelin smiled, and Rowan was momentarily stupid.

“Okay, as much fun as official introductions are, Fen can you open the box? Inside it are smaller boxes with each of your names. Enjoy!” Aelin chimed. As Fenrys ripped open the box Elide and Lysandra started asking each of them questions. At the same time Aelin reached past the camera to grab 3 shot glasses and a bottle of Johnny Walker. Jealous Rowan thought. That was his favorite drink. Of course she would drink it, she looks like that, and shoots whiskey. Gods have mercy...

Fenrys passed him a large box, and when they each held their own he spoke again. “This is like Yulemas Ace, thank you! Can we just tear them open or do we go one at a time?” Ace? How adorable. Rowan’s eyes found Aelin’s again, and it felt like she was looking at him, but it was a giant screen and that was nonsense.

“Oh, tear in! Fen told us a little about each of you so we tried to go with things you might like. I hope we guessed right!” Aelin’s smile was like the sun, as he looked down to begin opening the package on his lap Rowan felt a rare smile grace his own lips in response. With a loud cracking noise 6 boxes popped open, and the room was filled with “NO WAY”s and “ THANK YOU”s as the cadre tore through their gifts.

On the top of each box was an Orynth Bane Jersey, they were all Ashryver jerseys (obviously) and stitched in the pro style. As he unfurled his he realised that the entire team had signed the jerseys for each of the men. He began shaking his head, this was already more than they could have ever asked for.

“The boys wanted to say thank you as well! Aideon and Ren got you all, and us, some front row, 50 yard line-” At that Elide made an unladylike snort, Aelin choked, and Lysandra glared. The Cadre was clearly missing something. Aelin cleared her throat in an attempt to recover, “50 yardline tickets. Whole VIP experience for the Adarlan game in November!” She finished, and that statement was met with cheers from all of them. The Bane was their favorite team, and while they had seen a couple games they never could have dreamt of what she was talking. Granted her cousin was the starting QB and “Ren” was his best running-back. This is insane he thought.

With the jersey, and tickets out of the way Rowan looked back into the box. Sitting right there was a bottle of Johnny Walker black label, 3 expensive cigars, a cutter, a lighter, and a shot glass that read “SSG Whitethorn reporting for Booty.” He didn’t know when he had started giggling like a school boy, but he was entirely sure he looked like an idiot.

He looked up with his shot glass in hand, and stared at the screen. The others still had their heads in their boxes, but he was looking at her. “Classic,” he wiggled the shot glass “Thank you so much Aelin.” She smiled a soft smile, and nodded.

He glanced around and saw his friends had all received a bottle of their favorite liquor as well, Connall and Vaughn were already lighting a cigar each while digging through the rest of their boxes. The smoke was sweet, and the room smelled of vanilla and burnt sugar. The girls were currently taking shots on skype and clapping when something new was unveiled or explaining why they included certain random things.

“Salvaterre!” Elide shouted. The tiny woman’s cheeks had begun to flush, she was clearly feeling the shots she had taken so far. Lorcan’s head shot up and she giggled, he sat up a little straighter, and she leaned into the camera. “There’s something a little special in there for you, you’ll know it when you see it. That’s from me. You’re welcome.” She winked and Rowan swore his friend blushed. The rest of the men had seen it too because everyone began laughing, and he made a note to try and figure out what exactly she’d sent that made him act that way.

The next thing he unpacked was a pair of super lush running shoes, Fenrys clearly had given all their shoe sizes to the women because he was holding a $200 pair of black sneakers. It was beyond too much but Aelin looked so excited when they all started trying them on, the desert ruined your shoes. The last items in the box were something else entirely. A small stuffed hawk sat in one corner, it wore a nametag: Buzzard. He raised it and an eyebrow to the screen and Aelin started laughing. “Buzzard?” he asked.

“Indeed sir. Can’t tell you why though, it’s a secret.” She slammed a shot back “You each got a little stuffed animal to keep you company on the long nights. Since you can’t have puppies in the desert apparently.” He shook his head laughing, this girl was too much. Next to where the Hawk had been laying was a wrapped package. He lifted it up and was about to tear it open when she half screamed, “WAIT! Okay so, wait. This is my favorite gift.” She had everyone’s attention now turned to him. Fenrys was laughing, apparently he knew what came next.

“Oooookayyyyyy.. I’m a little nervous,” Rowan admitted. He didn’t like the spotlight on him like this.

“Well here’s the thing, as you can see everyone got their favorite sweets,” she made a sweeping motion at the camera. “Candy is an important food group, but Fen said you don’t like sugar or something. Which by the way is blasphemous. Anyways, I asked what your favorite food was and he said-”

“MEAT ON A STICK!” The entire cadre chorused, along with all three women on screen. They were all laughing like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

“But I couldn’t send you a kabob, so I figured this would be the next best thing!!”

He tore open the package in his hands. Sitting there were 8 bags of beef jerky and a packet of skewers. He started laughing so hard, tears were streaming down his face, “Thank you!” he croaked between fits of laughter.

After the gifts were all opened, cigars were lit and shots were poured. The group drank and laughed for hours. At one point the girls started playing music on their end, and the Rowan found himself singing along with everyone to Bohemian Rhapsody and watching Aelin dance on her kitchen table. It was the lightest he’d felt in years. Lorcan and Elide had exchanged numbers and he could see the girl texting him from the screen. Connall and Vaughn were in the corner in matching jerseys kissing and dancing to the music on the speakers.

They eventually said their goodnight’s, and another round of heartfelt thank you’s. As Rowan half stumbled into his bed he found himself still smiling and holding the small stuffed Hawk that smelled of lavender and embers.

***************************************************************

TAG LIST <3

@http-itsrebecca

@highqueenofelfhame

@feyrethedarklady

@someonemagical

@thebitchupstairs

@over300books

@starseternalnighttriumphant

@musicmaam

@blueeyes425

@clockworkgraystairs

@nalgenewhore

@illyrianbeauty

@dazzlinghazee

@randomtogacotar22

@westofmoon

@forest-magic6

@nerdyclementine

@la7sorcellerie

@yikesitsmaddie

@tswaney17

@fourshizzle149

#stth au #tog fic #ao3fic #rowaelin fic

137 notes · View notes

oopssasha · 5 years ago

Text

A Fan Theory: Larry Stylinson

Dear Sasha

Because you wouldn’t Elsa and let it go. I’m gonna go all out with this once and for all. Quarantine is honestly killing my mind. So might as well do it now.

In this very long multiple-part essay, I will explain why I believe that Harry and Louis have been together for a decade now.

This is part 1: What got me digging into the pit of Larry Stylinson evidence.

I only got into 1D because Louis’s ‘Walls’ album is AMAZING. So I went back and listened to every single song that Louis was credited as one of the songwriters. Guess what, I noticed things. I’m a nerd who’s into music and lyrics interpretation. And I didn’t live under a rock, so I’ve heard about Larry Stylinson before. I just never looked into it because I was too busy being a Swiftie.

When I started listening to 1D, I hit a jackpot with Perfect. (The only 1D released song that Louis and Harry wrote together without other boys) Because I was such a Swiftie, I recognized Style immediately. Same tempo, same key, same chords, same everything. It’s basically a COLLABORATION. I died. DEAD. Instead of Harry and Taylor holding hands in Central Park for paparazzo, Taylor, Harry, and Louis could have been writing more music together!

Here. Listen to this. Then I dare you to say you don’t want more. Fans of both Taylor and 1D were ROBBED.

I knew that Haylor’s Winter Romance was a PR thing because Taylor did not try to hide the fact that it was a PR thing at all. I actually think she resented that she had to do it to promote an album, instead of letting her music speaks for itself. She’s a GREAT MUSICIAN. I’m sorry. I got a bit too worked up about this. All the drama she went through, especially from 1989-reputation, was really difficult to witness. She called 1989 the depiction of what the media wanted her to be. Then she basically dumped the mainstream media with Reputation. “There will be no explanation. Only reputation.” And her AMA performance was the greatest ever “Bye, Felicia!” to her old recording label. And I just love my dramatic Queen, okay.

Back to Larry Stylinson, I can’t unheard what I did in Perfect. So I started digging into the other side of Haylor. And, oh boy. I thought Taylor was unhappy about it. But Harry and Louis looked downright miserable during this time. So devastated that it hurt my heart. God, no wonder Taylor wrote Out of the Wood. It’s basically a gay anthem. Just listen. “...the rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming colors.” The most blatant rainbow reference ever and some people still think this song is about a heterosexual relationship, honestly. I used to think it might’ve been about Kaylor (Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift) but nuh uh.

Taylor said OOTW was written for the relationship she was in where the biggest feeling in that whole relationship was anxiety. (Will we, won’t we make it?) She emphasized a lot on how ‘just because it was filled with anxiety all the time doesn’t mean that it wasn’t special.’ God, imagine being in her shoes, in a PR relationship, holding hands with a heartbroken boy who isn’t allowed to hold his boyfriend’s hand in public. It broke my heart to pieces. Probably broke Taylor’s, too. (You remember how I wrote another detailed essay on this before, yeah?)

My next stop was music written by Harry and/or Louis, obviously. That’s the playlist you wrote plot bunny about. You could write an entire plot of a romance novel, exclusively from their songs. And damn it, even the songs Harry/Louis wrote for someone else to sing are still obviously their own story. I’m talking about Blackbear’s CHANGES (It’s sad but true, can’t be in love with you = the forced closeting), Ariana Grande’s Just a Little Bit of Your Heart (I know I’m not your only, but at least I’m one. = the bearding), Alex & Sierra’s (You ran your finger down my back and you spelled out your name. = all the times they were hiding their affectionate gestures behind their backs. And other boys’ back. Honestly, they were being sneaky. But it’s something you can’t unsee. And once I saw it, I started seeing everywhere. I’ll give you examples, you’ll see.)

After the music, I arrived at the figurative tattoo parlor. I went there next because Harry and Louis have far too many suspiciously complementary tattoos. (Hi-Oops, Ship-Compass, Anchor-Rope, Heart-Arrow, Rose-Dagger, A Small Cage-Flying Little Birds, Butterfly-‘It Is What It Is’, I can’t change-a blank quotation) Taylor was there when Harry got his ship tattoo, at the same place where Louis got his compass tattoo within the next 24 hours. According to the tattoo artist, Harry said, “We’re always on the road. But my heart is at home and I want a ship.” Meanwhile, instead of pointing toward North like a regular compass, Louis’s compass points to HOME. I absolutely think Taylor wrote I Know Places for them. Again, listen. “Loose lips sink ship all the damn time, not this time.” And do you know what this song reminds me of? 1D’s Something Great. Why? Louis’s lines in Something Great, the last four, completely deviate from the rest of the song. The last four in I Know Places did the same thing.

“You’re all I want”

“They takes their shots but we’re bulletproof”

“So much it’s hurting.”

“And you know for me it’s always you.”

“You’re all I want”

“In the dead of night, your eyes so green”

“So much it’s hurting.”

“And I know for you it’s always me.”

They sounded like a shift in perspective to me. The difference was that in Something Great it was just a melodic line, a plea from one person to another. But in I Know Places, the chorus stayed, as a witness.

Taylor was a Larrie. There. I said it.

When 1D was asked about the stories behind their tattoos, Louis always dodged the question by saying something along the line of, “People always think it has to mean something when it could’ve meant nothing at all. It’s just a tattoo.” But recently on a radio show, he talked about the time a fan asked him to write something on her arm so she could get it tattooed, he asked her what she wanted him to write and she said, “I don’t know!” And Louis’s shook. “To be fair, love. It’s a lot of pressure for me. You’re gonna have this on your body for the rest of your life and you’re just saying to me, ‘Write anything.’ It’s difficult.”

So, the same Louis Tomlinson got several prominent tattoos (a stag, a compass, a dagger) which will be on his body for the rest of his life with absolutely no meanings at all. Quite a few (little birds, quotation marks under his rope) that he couldn’t remember why he got it. The compass was the strangest thing. He seemed to have spent a lot of time looking at it, for something with no meaning behind it at all. And, “It points to home. Isn’t that sweet?”

Boobear, you’re not fooling anybody.

Honestly, the tattoos are enough to convince me that Harry and Louis, at the very least, were together for quite a long while. At least from the start of 1D to 1D going on Hiatus. Just look.

First Day of 1D: Louis jumped into Harry’s arms. Harry attempted to twirl them unsuccessfully.

Last Day of 1D before Hiatus: Harry held Louis’s arm behind Niall’s back (This was very much a recurring theme throughout their time in 1D.)

Here’s an exhibition of ‘See it Once, See it Always’

Sir Ian McKellen & One Direction on the Graham Norton Show: Louis was sitting very awkwardly here. At first glance, it seemed like he wanted to be as far away from Harry as possible. But look at his leg. Just look. Louis kept his right leg there, touching Harry’s left leg throughout the whole interview. There were some comments in this video that went on about how Louis was being so mean to Harry. And I’m like, please look before you pass judgement. But I’ve got the benefit of hindsight is 20/20 and hearing Louis sings about Princess Park, so. They were definitely very much in love here.

Night Changes performance on this show was just Harry’s serenading Louis. Watch the video and just look at the way Louis smiled back. He’s so happy. It’s adorable. Zayn and Niall were absolutely trying not to fangirl here. In fact, let me make a meme out of this.

Come on, when you know, you know.

Before heading to Part 2, you should watch this first. Chely Wright is a lesbian country musician. She was in a closet for a long time. It was a difficult experience for her and a heartbreaking bedtime story for me.

Will edit the link to part 2 in when I post it.

Good night now Sasha

Del

30 notes · View notes

jetsandbennie · 6 years ago

Text

as both becomes all

summary: you’re pregnant and not with ben. it all feels like quite a lot to handle.

warnings: angst, fluff, smut (18+). female masturbation, female receiving oral, pregnancy

pairing: bodyguard!ben hardy x reader

word count: 13.1k

thank you so much for the positive feedback this little trilogy has gotten - i never expected that it would have gotten as popular as it did, and i’m so excited to be posting the final part of it!!

( gif creds to @ michaelscofieldx )

The tour ends abruptly.

Fans who were meant to be attending the last few shows are sent emails from your tour company, apologizing profusely, claiming that you had a health emergency that required you to not perform. And it’s true, of course, but you feel horrible. For nearly a week after you cancel the shows you’re getting angry tweets and DMs, people claiming it’s unprofessional.

News of you getting shot goes unnoticed. The first source came from DailyMail, and it was enough to make people assume it untrue. You don’t bother to correct it, because, after all, it is a rather private matter. And you need time to heal yourself.

So you make a few apology posts. A second email goes out with a $75 voucher for your merch, which is more than some of the tickets even were, but it seems reasonable. Sweatshirts and baseball caps and bracelets go out of stock within hours, and in a few days angry tweets change to ones of fans showing off what they’ve got.

You enjoy looking at them. Lying on the couch, head throbbing, your brightness so dim you have to squint to see what you’re scrolling through. You like a few, maybe type a comment, but eventually looking at your screen hurts your eyes even more. So you drop your phone onto your stomach, grumbling at your cousin to turn the lights down, and with a roll of her eyes she complies.

It’s been a painful week, and boring, as well. Your cousin comes over, the one who’d been watching your dog, and she talks to you for hours at a time. It’s easy to talk to her. It always has been, really.

“You know - this bodyguard, Ben -” and saying his name is just about painful. You swallow before continuing, pushing yourself up against the couch and swinging your legs over the edge. “We were a thing.”

She raises her eyebrows, looking up from her phone on the other side of the couch. Her eyes meet yours, narrowed in confusion, before nodding. “Well, I figured.”

“You -?”

“You talked to me about him a lot. And then not at all.” She leans over and rests her phone on the coffee table, hand stroking your dog in her lap. “Is it over?”

You haven’t told anyone. Intended to keep it a complete secret, hush hush, until you decided what to do. But you - you can’t - so you nod slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat, and mutter, “It’s over. He ended it. But there’s - I mean -”

“Mhm …”

“I’m pregnant.”

Saying it makes it so much real, and you draw your knees up to your chest. Rest your chin against them, shake your head slowly. And then you continue, “I’m pregnant, with his fucking baby, of course. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t -”

“Hey,” your cousin mutters, reaching over to grab your hands. There’s an instant flashback to the two of you as children, mere months apart, running through the park with your hands firmly clasped, and it’s some sort of comfort in this strange situation you’re forced in. “It’s okay. You know that. You’re gonna be fine.”

You roll your eyes without meaning to, and then you feel bad. “I just - it really doesn’t feel like I’m gonna be fine. This is a fucking problem.”

It’s something you can both agree with, at least. Your cousin raises her eyebrows, and then says, “Did you tell him?”

“Nope,” you respond, popping the p.

“You know you have to do that.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going to keep this thing. I don’t know.”

“He still has to know. Even if you decide not to keep it. He has to know.”

She’s fucking right. God, the asshole.

—————————

It takes a lot of Instagram stalking to figure out where Ben lives, and truthfully you’re a bit embarrassed by it. But you’d rather the internal embarrassment than the external type, by asking Ben where he lives, so you suffer in silence.

He doesn’t have an Instagram - statues generally don’t - but his best friend, Joe, does, and he posts religiously. At least three posts a week, and Ben takes up a lot of them. It makes your heart hurt, a bit, seeing Ben so beautifully carefree in some of these pictures -

A blurry shot of him and Joe on a boat -

A photo of him stuffing the largest cupcake you’ve ever seen into his mouth -

A video of the two of them doing the macarena at a party -

Because suddenly it feels like this is a whole new part of Ben, one you’ve never seen but Joe does. And the best friend is supposed to know more, you suppose, but you wish you could have stayed with Ben long enough to take silly videos and pictures with him.

It was all so secret.

When you scroll back down to 2016, there’s a group shot of four men - Ben and Joe among them and then two you don’t recognize - but their handles are tagged, and you click on the shorter stranger’s profile first (his name is just ramim, which, depending on what his name is, seems pretty straightforward.) It’s bare, two pictures and private, anyway, so you go back and click on the taller man’s profile. HIs username is gwilymlee, which is quite the name, and he has quite a few pictures.

Ben is in a few of them. Not enough, in your opinion, but you scroll down, eyes finding every picture with your blonde (ex?)bodyguard in them.

But then.

In 2016. A bright shot of Ben and Joe in front of an apartment building, the blonde holding a keyring with a positively overjoyed look on his face. It’s a building you know - one you’ve passed before - and you sit up just a bit straighter as you read the caption gwilymlee added.

New apartment for benny! Finally moved out of his parents’ basement!

Bingo!

You push your half eaten bowl of strawberries away from you, resting your elbows on the kitchen island and examining the picture more. You know where this fucking building is and you know how to get there and what if he is there? What if this is it?

Of course, there’s the chance that he doesn’t live there anymore. That he moved, perhaps. But there’s a feeling in your gut, the kind that feels like a handwritten letter from the universe herself, and you think it is his. His apartment, still. Think it might be fate. And you know you have to try to see if you’re right, at least.

Really, you try not to doll yourself up too much. You don’t want it to look like you put in effort to see him, but if you go looking like a total bum then perhaps he’ll think that the breakup destroyed you, and you can’t have that. So you settle - a pair of jeans and a hoodie - and a touch of makeup. Just enough, really. Then you punch the apartment building’s address into your maps and set off, positively determined and entirely too nervous.

In 23 minutes you’re there. Parked on the street outside, gazing up at the red brick building, with moss artistically climbing across the exterior walls - it’s positively beautiful and you’ve thought that since the first time you passed it. Always said it would be a dream to live here.

You press a hand to your stomach, over the soft cotton of your Billabong pullover. There’s nothing there. No movement. Not that you really expected there to be, but - well, maybe you thought the baby would be reacting to this life altering decision you’re going to discuss with Ben.

You’re stupid.

You climb out of your car, locking the doors before shoving the keys into your pocket, and slowly you walk up to the front doors, keeping your head down, gazing at the beige sidewalk beneath your feet. Your hands grasp the handle for the door - cold beneath your touch - and you pull it open, walking into the warm lobby of the apartment building.

There’s a mere receptionist at the desk, three couches, and an elevator, and you feel strangely claustrophobic in this space - but no, not claustrophobic, you don’t think. Maybe just uncomfortable. Ben has been here, once upon a time. Maybe today. Perhaps he has a friendship with this nice receptionist named Lola, or maybe he’s less partial to her.

You give her a smile and then a moment for her to recognize you, as always happens. And normally the moment of surprise bothers you, to an extent, but you appreciate it coming from Lola. Like watching her eyes widen, her lips part, and then she clears her throat and says, “Oh! Hi! What can I do for you?”

Freshly painted fingernails drum against her desk as you lean in, giving her a small smile before questioning in an ultra soft, sweet voice, “I was just wondering if you could tell me - I have a friend who I believe lives here. I thought, maybe, you could confirm the name for me?”

You’re not sure if this is against the rules for her to do, but Lola nods eagerly, dragging her fingers across her keyboard. “Of course! What’s her name?”

“Ben Jones,” you reply, watching her fingers fly across her keyboard. “He never really told me where he lived. And I really miss him.” It’s the truth but you don’t fucking know why you said it. To build a story, perhaps. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. Anyway, does he still live here?”

“Yes, he does,” Lola tells you, and your dumb heart skips a beat. “Unfortunately I can’t tell you what apartment he’s in, but -”

Whatever else she says goes unheard as the door opens again, and you turn around to look at who walked in -

“Oh!” your eyes widen and your cheeks heat up. “Joe. Hi.”

Joe is holding a bag filled with groceries - one of the fancy reusable ones from Wegmans that your mother always bugs you to use - and he looks only the smallest bit confused at you being there, in his best friend’s apartment building, but then he clears his throat and says, “Oh. Hi.”

Lola is forgotten as you take a deep breath before giving a smile to Joe. “Are you bringing those to Ben?” you question, nodding down at the groceries he’s holding.

“Yeah,” Joe nods, holding up the bag. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping to - um - visit Ben, actually.”

There’s a beat of silence. And then Joe clears his throat, turns to the receptionist and says, “Hi, Lola!”

“Hi, Joe,” Lola replies, and the absolutely uncomfortable situation is the tiniest bit rectified. “Going up to see Ben, I gather.”

“Yep.” Joe spares you a glance, walking to the elevator. “And I’m bringing her up with me.”

—————————

Ben’s apartment contains every ounce of personality that the man himself ever lacked - pictures on the walls, colorful furniture, a small dog jumping up on your thighs as Joe holds open the door for you to duck into. It’s small, you suppose, though nice - a small hall leads to the kitchen and living room, and it’s all open and nice, and you feel strangely choked up looking at it.

“What are you doing here?” Ben questions, drumming his fingers against his kitchen counter. You know the question, of course, is directed at you, and you can’t exactly explain it yet. Not with Joe here - unpacking the groceries he brought and setting them in their cabinets. It looks like he knows his way around the place, but considering he knew the receptionist by name - it isn’t shocking.

You brace your hands on the kitchen island and pull yourself up onto it, feet dangling as your eyes follow Joe’s path. “I’d love to tell you, really,” you begin, crossing your arms over your chest. Joe pauses in the middle of stuffing a second box of macaroni into a cabinet and meets your eyes, brows furrowed. You understand why Ben and Joe are friends, you think - they seem to balance each other out, in some sort of way. Joe is goofy where Ben seems to be serious. Opposites attract, you muse to yourself, in more ways than one. Ben just seems to be a magnet for the opposites. “Joe, would you be an absolute angel and mind giving us a few minutes alone?”

You’ll need more than a few minutes, but Joe doesn’t need to know that. Not right off the bat. You give him a smile and he sets the pasta down on the counter, giving Ben one final glance before making his way off down the hall. The front door opens and shuts and then your gaze snaps back to Ben, his hair messy with his sweatpants low on his hips, and you focus your eyes directly into his.

“Why are you here?” Ben asks again.

“You’re so blunt, Ben. Aren’t I allowed to visit you?” your voice is sweet and Ben sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “Kidding. But, really, is it that much of a burden that I’m here?”

“It’s just -” he sighs slowly. “I don’t know.”

Your feet thumb against the island with every swing of your legs, cut short by the rhythmic bangs. “Alright, Benny. Something kind of bad is happening.” You pause. Gauge his reaction, and you can tell he’s trying to appear calmer than he is but his eyes give him away. “I wasn’t going to tell you, truthfully. And maybe that’s kind of fucked up, but I was planning on just handling it myself. But my cousin - I told you about her, I think - she told me I have to tell you, because otherwise that kind of makes me a bad person. Not in those words, of course, but the implication -”

Ben holds up a finger to silence you. “What is it, Y/N?”

Your heart beats hard against your chest, and your throat feels oddly dry, but you don’t want to give your nerves away. Not to him. And the worst he could do is - is reject you, not support you in your decision, whatever it is. But that wouldn’t be too different from not telling him at all, right? Which was the original plan. So you take a deep breath, and your feet thump thump thump against the island. “So, you remember when I was at the hospital.”

You’re only starting from that point to fuck with him. But he nods, crosses his arms, and you continue. “Well, the nurse had a - um - rather pressing health update to tell me about.”

In an instant, it seems, Ben is by your side, and you fight the urge to shift closer to him, so your thigh is touching his torso, but your eyes are slightly leveled when you turn and look at him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice rich with concern. “Are you sick, or -”

“Pregnant, actually.”

Watching his expression morph into a thousand different ones would be amusing if you weren’t slightly terrified of his response. But Ben goes from concerned to surprised, and then confused, and then he rolls his eyes and takes a step away from you.

“Oh, shut up,” he says, back to you, and your brows furrow in confusion. Ben turns back around, and his lips are spread into a humorless grin. “You’re not pregnant, Y/N.”

You press your palms against your thighs, exhaling a deep breath, and then you retort, “I promise, I am. Took three drugstore tests and made the hospital take another more official one. I was in denial, too, but I thought you should know. You know, being the dad and all.”

The last sentence - a metaphorical bomb dropped - sends Ben’s head flopping forward into his hands, and for a few minutes he doesn’t move. Just stands still, his face in his palms, and you sit atop of his kitchen island and wait.

Wait for him to get it together, you suppose. You need him to get it together, to talk to you about it, to maybe go outside and tell Joe that you guys are going to need a lot more time than a few minutes, because this conversation can’t be jammed into a time slot. It’s positively indefinite. And getting started on it - on decisions, decisions, decisions - can only occur when Ben fucking stands up and looks at you.

“I’m not too thrilled either, Benny.” it’s the only comforting words you can think of, and your feet still hit the island. It’s a nervous tick, you think. “I promise. But you’re - the dad - and this conversation has to happen. With you.”

“Oh, god,” is all Ben mutters in response, and then he moves his face up so that he’s looking at you - eyes peeking through his fingers, wide and bright. His face is oddly pale. “Please tell me you’re not kidding. Please. If you’re joking …”

“I’m not,” you promise, and then you hold your hand out to him. Stick your middle finger out. “Oops,” you mutter, replacing the middle finger with your pinky. “I swear. I swear I’m not kidding.”

Murmurs of oh god reach your ears, and you let your hand drop back down to the island. Your other hand presses over your stomach, just a comfort thing, and then you swallow. Watch him, still. Make out the way he reacts to this, because he seems just as shocked as you were.

At least he’s not hearing it from a nurse he’s never met five minutes after being broken up with and after being shot, you think, but that hardly seems fair.

Slowly you push yourself off of the island and take a step closer to Ben, reaching out to wrap an arm around his shoulder. He doesn’t push you away and then you envelope him in a warm embrace, and he doesn’t necessarily reciprocate - too busy covering his face - but perhaps he feels comforted.

You do, at least.

“Hey.” you pull away and press your hands to his cheeks, pulling his head up. “Can we talk about this, Ben? Seriously?” He nods slowly, and his eyes look the tiniest bit watery. You hate to focus on it. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Okay,” Ben says, and you furrow your eyebrows at the complete non-response. Then he drops his hands to his side, sighing, and then he grabs your wrist. It isn’t your hand but it’s close, and you hate the way your heart rolls in your chest at the feeling. The thump thump thump you still hear is no longer your feet but your heart, beat beat beating inside your body. “You know I’ll support you no matter what.”

And because you did know this - did know he’s a decent man - you smile slightly and reply, “I know.” You’d thank him but it hardly seems like an extraordinary sentiment. More like something he’s supposed to do. But men were unpredictable, really, because when your best friend had a pregnancy scare in high school, her boyfriend said that he’d never talk to her again if she didn’t get rid of it.

She wasn’t even pregnant. So you push down your pride and cough dryly. “Uh - thank you.”

Ben takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, gnawing on the soft pink skin, and you open your mouth to speak again when the apartment door opens again - you jump, turning to look at who walked in, and Joe pops his head into the kitchen.

“Are we done talking?” Joe asks, as if the incredibly intense conversation you’re having with Ben involves him at all. But he’s nice. You appreciate him, even if you hardly know him.

“It’s gonna be a while, Joey.” Ben motions for Joe to leave, and the ginger sighs, then gives the pair of you a smile. Perhaps he’s noticed your close proximity to each other. Maybe he thinks you’re getting back together - maybe he wants you to. Or maybe he’s just a friendly person.

Joe leaves, and you turn back to Ben.

“Look, sweetheart,” Ben begins, and the nickname forces your eyes to the floor. You don’t want him to see what that name still does to you. He can’t see the heat in your cheeks - the softness in your eyes. “Do you know what you want to do?”

There’s a pause. Then Ben adds, “Because - I mean - I’ll pay for any procedures. If that’s what you want to do.”

The language makes you cringe a little, and you take a few steps back so you’re leaning against the counter. Procedures. It’s certainly a possibility, and outweighing the other option at the present moment, but you hate - well - thinking about it. You nod slowly. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure what I want to do. I mean, it’s a fucking - a fucking baby, Ben. And I’m doing pretty well now, career-wise. I can hardly take a break to care for a baby. And you’re -”

But you don’t want to finish that last sentence. Don’t want to tell Ben what you’re thinking.

“What? What am I?” His voice isn’t rude, really, as if he suspects you were going to say something completely horrible, and you appreciate him for it.

“Not with me, I guess. I mean, doesn’t having split up parents constitute as a broken household? I don’t want to raise a baby in a broken household.”

Ben shakes his head. “You know I wouldn’t make you raise our kid on your own.”

“I know that, but -”

“I don’t think it’s a broken household, then.” he shakes his head, blonde hair swaying from side to side. “They’d be loved by both their parents, if you decide to keep them.”

You drum your nails against the marble island. “It doesn’t have to be broken at all, though.” And this is where you need to shut the hell up, but you can’t stop. “If I - we - whatever - decide to keep the baby, why couldn’t we raise it together? Together?”

Ben brings his thumb into his mouth, nibbling at his nail, and it takes him a moment to reply. Perhaps he’s wary of this subject. Has to choose his words carefully. “You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me.”

“This isn’t the time.”

“It’s as good a time as any. Let’s get all the painful conversations out of the way now.”

You think you should’ve kept your mouth shut, actually. But you’re going and going, and you can’t stop now. You need to hear what he has to say - hear it for yourself. Why have you been agonizing over this? The baby, the break up? You deserve some sort of closure, and he’s in the place to give it to you.

“I couldn’t protect you,” Ben speaks slowly, tongue darting out to run along his bottom lip. “And that scares the shit out of me, you know? Because I’m supposed to protect you. That’s my job.”

“Ben,” you interrupt. “That had nothing to do with being involved with me.” You hesitate. “Do you want to be with me?”

He opens his mouth immediately and then shuts it. Finally he clears his throat and says, “Yeah. I do. I really, really do. But I want to keep you safe more. And it’s hard when I’m - I’m distracted.”

It all sounds so fucking stupid. “You know, there were, like, a thousand guys who sent in applications to be my bodyguard.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. “Really? A thousand guys who wouldn’t have let you get shot in a fucking 7/11?”

“You didn’t let me, you know.” But that hardly seems the point of bringing the other applicants up. “You don’t have to be my bodyguard, Benny. If that’s really what’s stopping this from happening.”

There’s a heavy pause. The air feels thick around you, warm and constricting, and you shift slightly. You are entirely too hot, and you aren’t really sure why. It was so cold outside. Too cold, really. And you want to strip down to the bare dressing essentials right now.

Ben shakes his head, and a small, humorless smile tugs at his lips. “Let’s focus on the baby for now, yeah?”

—————————

Tomato sauce. Gnocchi. Sourdough bread.

It’s only three things, so you rolled your eyes when your cousin tried to write it down for you. I’m not an idiot, you know, you told her, and you’re still holding that sentiment strong in your mind.

You hate cooking, really. Your cousin, though, is a chef so she both loves and excels at it, and whenever she visits, she’s in charge of cooking duty. But you, though - you have to get the groceries and clean up and do the dishes. It’s an even price to pay for a good meal.

You have the pasta and the bread - perfectly firm, as your cousin told you - but the tomato sauces are a bit more tricky. Your cousin gets a specific brand, and she told you it so many times before you left the house but you can’t remember. God. You probably should’ve written it down. Your brain can’t handle all three things, apparently, and if that isn’t embarrassing.

u can’t already have pregnancy brain, your cousin replies when you text her asking for the brand confirmation. like ur barely pregnant. get it tf together.

look it isn’t my fault.

should i blame ben?

You shut off your phone and throw it into your basket. Well, fuck her. Pregnancy brain. Is that even a real thing? You feel just as smart - or not - as you were before you got pregnant.

You’ll just grab a random brand. If she gets mad at you for it then you’ll just throw it back at her for making fun of your pregnancy brain. But looking at all of the plastic containers full of bright red sauce, you can’t determine which is even the best to buy. And you could look at all of the brands but that’s so much work.

So you grab Prego. Just to give your cousin a little laugh.

Even looking at the word, though, makes you a bit nervous. Because you - haven’t really thought about what to do with the pregnancy. And you’ve talked to Ben since then but they’ve done little to make your mind up. Dropping the Prego sauce into your basket, you turn and make your way to the checkout, mind returning to the overdriven state it hardly seems to leave.

Sometimes you wish you could just get a break. Go back to before you knew about this. To when you still had Ben and not a care in the world, unaware of the baby, unaware of the impending bullet and breakup.

Time travel doesn’t exist. You can’t go back. Only forward. And that’s fine. You like to think everything will work out in the end, anyway.

Aisle number 5 has the least people while still being open. Giant never has open aisles so it’s between 5 and 9, and there’s a line at 9. Only one woman at 5, pushing a cart full of snacks, and in the cart is -

“Well, hi, cutie.”

Your voice has morphed into an ultra sweet, soft voice that’s reserved for your baby nieces and nephews and little cousins, and the small, pale baby sitting in the cart seems to enjoy it. She looks up at you with a smile, mouth containing one growing-in baby tooth, and her baby blue eyes are wide.

“Her name is Ella,” her mom says to you from where she’s standing, placing her groceries into the same reusable bag that Joe used for Ben. (Kind of makes you feel like shit for not using that bag, but whatever.) Her hair is dark, tied into a ponytail, but her eyes have the same bright blue hue of her daughter. “Ella Grace, legally, but we all call her Ella.” Then the woman’s eyes meet yours, and a slow smile spreads across her face. “I know you, I think. Are you famous?”

Heat spreads through your cheeks, and you smile a little. Poke Ella Grace’s cheeks. “Um, kind of. I don’t know.”

“You’re modest,” Ella Grace’s mom says, pausing in the middle of stuffing a third bag of Lays potato chips into her bag. “My stepdaughter has a poster of yours in her room.”

“Oh,” you murmur, moving your hands in front of your eyes and then waiting a few seconds before pulling away. “Peek-a-boo!” You watch as Ella’s face lights up, and then she giggles loudly. “You’re such a sweetie, aren’t you, Miss Ella?”

Her mom grins at you, setting her bag in her cart. “She’s a sweetie now, but when no one else is around she’s a demon.” She maneuvers her way to the front of her cart and leans down to kiss the top of Ella’s head, and the baby gurgles in response. “You’re such a natural. Has anyone told you that before?”

Your stomach flips dramatically, and you swallow slowly. Begin setting your groceries onto the conveyor, and they move towards the entirely-unbothered cashier slowly. “No, haven’t really heard that before.”

“Well, you definitely are.” She begins pushing her cart away, and small pale fists reach out to grab the air near you. “See? Ella loves you.” The woman pauses and turns back to look at you. “My stepdaughter will never believe it. Really, she won’t.”

“Tell her I love her,” you hear yourself saying, but you’re not focused on it. Feel clammy and cold, all of a sudden. The woman bids farewell and leaves, and you shakily pull out $30 from your wallet and hand it to the cashier. Your total is less than $20 but the guy looks like he could use the extra cash, and you can’t stand to watch him pick out your change. You just grab your plastic bag, give him a smile, and walk as fast as you can out to the parking lot.

A car passes you - a black Toyota. The woman, Ella’s mom, waves at you from the driver’s seat, and you grin at her. As soon as she passes the smile melts off your face, and you grab your keys from the pocket of your windbreaker and unlock your car door as fast as you can.

When you’re in your car, heat turned up as high as it can go - for wind and for white noise - you let your head fall against the seat, a tear trickling its way down your cheek. You sniffle pathetically, bringing your wrist up to wipe away the evidence of your stress and sadness and anger - and all you can think about is Ella.

You’re a natural.

You reach into your pocket, where you’d stuffed your phone before ditching your basket, and unlock it with shaky fingers. Hot air surrounds you and it’s just about suffocating, but you’re unbothered. Just open up your text messages, look at your eighth most recent - simply named benny - and type out a text as fast as you can manage.

i’m keeping the baby. i have to.

And the response is lightning fast, as if Ben had been waiting for your text.

You know I’ll support you no matter what.

I love you more than anything.

And your fingers fly across the screen as you type your reply.

you know i do too.

Then, can i come over? really quick.

You’re always welcome here.

—————————

When Ben answers the door you get barely a moment to look at him before you’re being smushed into his chest, his arms tight around you, and it feels like home.

Your eyes are watery and the tears stain his light grey t-shirt, and you throw your arms around his torso. Squeezing him so tight it feels like he could burst and being in his arms is so great. God, you never want to leave. Never mind your cousin waiting for you or the things you have to do in life. You want to stay forever.

“You’re okay,” Ben mumbles, resting his chin on top of your head. His hand rubs circles into your back, slow and smooth. “It’s all going to be fine, alright? We’re gonna be parents.”

“I know,” you choke out, hiccuping. “I can’t - I have to keep it, Benny.”

His lips press against your head and then he pulls away, placing his hands on your arms to steady you, and you bring your wrist up to wipe at your eyes. “Alright.” And you can tell he’s struggling with what to say - you are, too - so he moves his hands down your arms. Grabs your hands, and his palms are warm and soft. “I’ll support you until the end of time, sweetheart.”

Another tear slips down your cheek but you refuse to move your hands first - squeeze his tighter, really. Then you clear your throat, mumble, “Sorry for showing up.” Because - really - it’s getting later, now, nearly 7. And you don’t consider that late by anyone’s standards, but what if he was getting ready for bed? Or preparing to go out with Joe and those other two guys on Instagram? “Didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

Ben smiles humorlessly. “I wasn’t doing anything. Just watching a movie, probably.” His eyes fall down to your joined hands, as if he’s just realized the physical connection between the two of you. You prepare for him to drop your hands, fast and sharp as if they burned him, but he doesn’t. Just squeezes tighter. “Is your cousin waiting for you?”

“How did you know I’m going home to my cousin?”

“You’re always going home to your cousin.” His face is a shade too red and his eyes look watery, and you feel slightly bad. “You talked about her a lot.”

On tour is the forgotten next part of that sentence. You don’t, surprisingly, want to think about your time with him now. Just want to focus on this.

Stay in the present, you think. The future, maybe. But not the past. It’s all you can do to move on from there, with this fucking baby and - and Ben.

—————————

i’m giving you a hypothetical situation here.

After sending the text to Ben, you rest your phone on the couch in front of you. Your house feels too empty, the lack of people you live full-time with suddenly overwhelming - your cousin is over a lot and so are some friends but, really, you just have your dog besides that. And he’s lazy, constantly wanting to lie on top of you and nap.

You’d been fine with that before, but at 15 weeks pregnant you’ve started pushing him off of you when he tries to rest in your lap. Your stomach is beginning to show, a small bump that goes unnoticed when you wear baggy clothes. You’re always hyper-aware of it, though. Worried that your dog will hurt the baby.

So your dog is ignoring you, now. Offended that you won’t let him stretch out over your body for hours at a time.

It just makes the loneliness worse. Even if you have a person attached to you at all times.

Alright. Hypothetical situation. Go.

if i was extremely desperate for nutella, and i was all out of nutella, would you get me some and bring it to my house?

A text bubble appears right away, indicating that he’s typing, and then it goes away.

Haha.

I can bring you nutella.

Wait, this is hypothetical, isn’t it?

it doesn’t have to be!! my address is 2275 sawyer street.

You throw your phone onto the couch with a grin, settling back against it with your eyes on the TV. Pretty Woman plays, a favorite movie of yours, and you hate not paying attention to it.

Even if you can recite every line by heart.

What if, by chance, you notice something new about the movie you’ve watched a hundred times? You can never be so sure.

After 10 minutes your phone rings, and it’s Ben - you let it play out for a few seconds and then answer it, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Ben says, and you can hear rain softly pattering, both through the phone and from the outside. “Hey, I’m driving around your neighborhood, and I have no fucking idea how to get to your house.”

You smile slightly. “There’s a pretty long driveway.”

“Yeah, but where does it start?”

You sit up, put the phone on speaker, and lean over to rest it on the coffee table. “Look, I know exactly where you are, because everyone gets caught up in the same area.”

He pauses. “Seems like a confusing house to have.”

“Well, it’s more private, you know?”

“Private, secret, whatever. Just tell me how to get there.”

“Alright, so …”

After a minute of explaining exactly how to find your house - an explanation you’ve given more times than you can count - Ben hangs up with the promise of arriving in less than 2 minutes, and you push yourself up off the couch. Reach for the remote and pause your movie, and then you head down the hall towards the front door.

There’s a knock after a couple of seconds and you lean your head close to the door, calling out in a mocking, sing-song voice, “Who is it?”

There’s laughter from the other side. “I have your Nutella.”

You unlock the door and swing it open, coming face to face with Ben. In his hands is a plastic grocery bag, and through the sheer material you can see the Nutella label, staring you right in the face.

“God, Benny, you’re an angel.” you grab the bag and peek inside - three fucking containers of it, and you can nearly moan at the sight. “You know, I’d hate to be doing this with anyone else. I can’t think of a single person who would go out and get me Nutella at 9 at night, but here you are.”

“You can count on me, sweetheart,” Ben tells you, and you take a step backwards into the foyer. He lingers outside, a hand braced on the doorframe. “You know, your house is pretty big.”

You shrug. “I’d call it average size.”

“Always so modest.”

You look up, eyes meeting his, and then a smile spreads across your face. “You can come in, you know. I wasn’t planning on having this be a drop-off situation, but if you wanna go, then …”

Ben is inside before you finish the offer, shutting the door behind him and blowing warm air into his palms. You pad off back down the hall and into the living room, Pretty Woman paused right on the scene where Vivian is going shopping for clothes and gets kicked out of a store. Your favourite in the movie, really - though it does tend to make you quite sad, and even more when you watch it now.

“Hey, turn around real quick.”

At Ben’s voice you pause and then turn, brows furrowed. “What -”

“I didn’t realize you were starting to show.”

You look down at your stomach, the tiny swell of the baby clear in your tight tank top. “Oh. Guess I am.” Pause. “Barely, though. Soon I’ll grow more, probably too much, really.”

“Yeah, probably,” Ben replies as you turn back again to the living room. You throw the bag onto the couch and then flop onto the cushions, sinking into it. “When did that start?”

“A week or two ago.” You pause as Ben leans against the wall, watching as you dig through the bag to grab one of the containers of Nutella. “Believe me here, Benny. You weren’t purposely left out of the loop. My cousin said I have pregnancy brain already, but I don’t think that even exists. Can you grab a spoon from the kitchen? I swear, I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass here.”

Ben dutifully turns towards the kitchen and returns a minute later. He sits next to you and then hands over the metal spoon, and you untwist the top of one of the Nutella containers and dig the spoon into the sweet snack.

There’s a moment of silence - broken only by the movie - and then Ben says, “I wanna know about these kind of things, Y/N.”

You look at him, lapping the Nutella off the spoon. Your brows furrow - truthfully you hadn’t thought it was a very big deal, starting to show. It just seemed like something that was bound to happen. Nothing special. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ben tells you. He stretches his arm over the back of the couch, eyes on the television screen. “I just want to hear about the pregnancy. Developments and everything.”

“Alright.” you hesitate, digging your spoon back into the Nutella jar. “I mean - I am sorry. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, that’s all.”

“I mean, it isn’t, really. It’s just important to me.”

There’s an easy fix for this, you want to say. What if we move in together? What if we get together? You’d probably notice the bump before I do, Benny.

Ben looks at you and then moves his arm so it’s around your shoulders, and you practically melt into his touch. “I didn’t mean to make you feel shitty about it, you know,” he tells you.

You shake your head, curls brushing his nose as your head moves. “I don’t feel shitty. I’ll tell you about everything. Promise. Even when I wake up in the middle of the night and vomit my guts out into the toilet.”

He nods slowly, fingertips tickling the side of your arm. You take another spoonful of Nutella, pressing your head against his shoulder and trying to pay attention to the movie, but it’s hard, now. Because this feels quite a lot like cuddling, and it messes with your emotions quite a bit for Ben to be instigating cuddling with you. But after a moment Ben urns to look at you with a small grin tugging at his lips. “Now, how often does that happen? Should I be concerned?”

—————————

“How much money are you putting into the betting pool?”

Ben rolls his eyes, shutting the pamphlet he’d been reading and shoving it into his pocket. He has a stack of them shoved into the pocket of his sweatshirt - the waiting room had a variety of them and Ben took one of each.

He leans close, mouth right by your ear. He’s standing beside the table you’re seated on, his hand braced beside you. There’s no one else in the room with you but he still keeps his voice down, as if he’s wary of the doctor coming in and hearing your conversation. “I’m not putting money into guessing the baby’s gender, Y/N.” The last syllable of your name breaks off into a laugh, and you throw your head back with a giggle.

“Alright, alright. I’m just saying, Benny, I know it’s a girl.” you lower your voice, reaching into his sweatshirt pocket to grab one of the pamphlets. You unfold it and hold it in front of your face, and Ben bursts into laughter. “Shut up! Nothing’s funny!”

Ben rests his head against your shoulder, and you lean towards him, pressing your bodies impossibly closer despite the barrier between your seats. “And I know it’s a boy. I can feel it.” As a point he reaches in and presses his hand against your 20 week stomach. “See? That’s a boy.”

“That’s a girl.”

“This is why I want to make a bet.”

“And I refuse to bet on what sex my baby is gonna be.”

You cross your arms and huff pointedly. Ben picks his pamphlet back up and traces his finger along the page. You reach behind you and pull your phone out of your pocket, opening up Instagram. You have notifications - the result of a selfie posted earlier that’s already reached 700,000 likes - and you scroll through your homepage absentmindedly. Angry tweets and Instagram callouts have subsided dramatically in the past few months and you’ve been on your merch team to get all of the products out in record-breaking time - makes it so that people can’t get mad at you for it anymore.

Or, they can, but most people consider it unreasonable.

The door opens abruptly, and you shove your phone back into your back pocket, sending the doctor a wide grin. “Hello, Dr. Green!” you chirp, voice unnaturally high, and you pray that’s the correct name.

“Hello, Y/N. Ben.” Dr. Green is a sweet lady, short with dark hair, and she always seems happy. You appreciate it - appreciate the enthusiasm at your pregnancy. Her excitement at every new development marks the difference between a good doctor and a great one, you think. “It’s just a routine checkup - you know the drill by now, right?”

You and Ben nod in unison, and you reach for his hand on the table. He takes it, intertwining your fingers, and Dr. Green smiles at the pair of you.

You lie back onto the table, pulling your shirt up over your stomach as Dr. Green spreads some of the gel over your bump - it’s always cold, no matter how prepared you pretend to be for it. It’s always a surprise. Your eyes turn to the screen, your thumb rubbing the back of Ben’s hand, and you squint at the screen until you can make out the vague shape of your baby. And it’s -

Overwhelming.

Previously it had been hard to really make out the baby but now you can see it, make out its features. And it seems real.

LIke it’s really happening.

Dr. Green points at different parts of the screen, a manicured nail tapping against the hard surface. “You can see the eyes, here - look, this is the head. You see?”

Your eyes go glassy as you gaze at the screen, squeezing Ben’s hand. “Yeah. There he is, Benny,” you grin, looking up at Ben, and he rolls his eyes.

“She. There she is.”

Dr. Green’s eyes dart between you two, and then she asks, “Would you two like to know the baby’s sex? We’re far enough along that we can tell, and the baby appears to be in the right position.”

Ben says, “Oh, we definitely do,” at the same time as you nod furiously, hair swaying with every movement of your head. “Please,” you tell the doctor, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look at the screen. “We’ve kind of been fighting about it.”

The doctor smiles, raising her eyebrows. “I heard,” she murmurs. “Are you putting money on it?”

You turn and mockingly glare at Ben. “I wanted to, but Benny here thought it was immoral, or something.”

“Because it is,” Ben argues, “I don’t want to win money because of what sex my baby is.”

Then Dr. Green asks, “So, Ben, you think it’s a girl, correct?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, then, if this were a bet, I’d have to say that you -” Dr. Green moves the probe around your stomach, and then points again at the screen. You squint to see what you’re meant to be looking at. “You, Ben, would be winning money.”

It takes you a moment to process what she said, and your eyes widen.

Rewind. What?

You glance up at Ben, and you find that your vision is blurry as you look at him - from what?

Are those tears?

“Oh, my god,” Ben breathes, eyes fixed on the screen, and then he collapses into the chair beside your bed. “Oh my god.”

“Are you serious?” your mouth falls as you stare at Dr. Green, a smile spread across her face. “It’s a girl? You’re serious?”

“I’m 100% serious. You two are going to have a baby girl.”

Ben pulls your intertwined hands up to his face, pressing his lips to the back of your hand before losing it - his face drops and you can make out tears falling down his cheeks. You laugh a bit, leaning over and trying to wrap your arm around him, but it’s a bit difficult.

After a moment Ben looks up at you, and his face is red, eyes watery. “Oh my god, Y/N. We’re going to have a daughter.”

You look back up at the screen, hiccuping and giggling at the same time. “I know. A baby girl. I mean, you’re positive, right?” The last part is directed at the doctor, and she grins as she nods. “Holy shit. Holy shit.” You reach up and press your hand against the screen, as if it’s the equivalent of touching your daughter in real time. “Can we have copies of this?”

You’re positive you’ll never be able to capture the emotions you’re feeling now ever again, but having copies of it - well, it’ll be the perfect way to remember it. And when Dr. Green prints you two copies of the sonogram (and then a third and a fourth, for Joe and your cousin, you tell her, because Ben has been rendered incapable of speaking) you clutch it in your hands, eyes unable to leave the blurry picture of your daughter inside of you.

—————————

You gave Ben a key to your house the week you found out the baby’s sex.

And it really did seem like a great idea. You gave it to him and then marked it with a small, pink, heart shaped sticker, and Ben made a show of hooking it onto the same keyring he has his apartment key on.

In turn he gave you the key to his apartment. You put it in your pocket and have since lost it, but he doesn’t know that.

Now, though - giving him a key has started to seem like a really horrible idea.

Your fingers tweak at your nipples, peaked in the cool air of your bedroom - the window is open, sending the early morning breeze straight into your room. Your other hand works at your cunt, pumping one finger in and out of yourself, palm of your head rubbing against your sensitive clit.

Soft moans are like a mantra off your lips, and you squeeze your eyes shut. If you think hard enough, work your mind enough, you can trick yourself into imagining that your fingers aren’t your own.

Ben’s are larger, you decide. You add another finger to the one that’s fucking into your pussy, and you let out a louder cry at the feeling. When you curl your fingers just right - the way Ben knows how to, better than anyone you’ve ever been with - it brushes against your G-spot.

Ben was a master at finding it. You’re even better.

Your back arches up, and you bring your hand from your tits down to your pussy. Your two fingers rub desperate circles into your clit, and you swallow a mouthful of air.

“Fuck,” you hiss, tilting your head back into your entirely-too-soft pillow. And your mind goes back to the man you wish were here with you - the one you want, the one whose fingers you’re desperate for - and you cry out, “Fuck, Ben -”

“Fuck.”

The voice isn’t yours, and you sit up, panic flashing through your mind - bright red sirens, blaring around your mind, and you pull your sheets up over your body, naked except for your panties.

And - Ben is there. His cock is straining against his sweatpants, and in between his two fingers is the pink heart decorated key you gave him.

“Oh my god.” your voice is soft and you swallow thickly. “Ben. Hi.”

“I didn’t know you -”

“I’m fucking sorry -”

“Don’t be, I walked in -”

You squeeze your eyes shut and lean your head back, feeling a prickling behind your eyes - you’re needy and embarrassed and you have an unbelievable urge to rip Ben’s clothes off, because he’s so fucking hard and you were almost there.

You almost came from the thought of him.

“Ben,” you interrupt him, and he leans against the door, pushing his keys into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Ben, I’m really fucking - horny.”

He hesitates. “I see.”

“And I really, really miss you. And your - appendages.” You push yourself up so you’re kneeling, sheets falling down over your chest, stopping just above your stomach. “Please. Benny, please.”

“Sweetheart -”

“Please. Oh my god, Ben, I fucking need you.” you clasp your hands together as if you’re begging, and in a way you certainly are.

You can see Ben’s mind whirring - your eyes pointedly trail down to the bulge in his sweatpants, and then back up to his eyes, and then Ben lunges at you.

His lips meet yours and it’s frantic - desperate - everything you’ve been missing for the past six months, nearly. Your hands tangle in his hair and pull him down to you, and eventually the two of you lie on your sides, mouths not moving from each other’s.

It’s different, completely different, from how it was. His hand goes to your stomach, resting on top of the bump as his lips move against yours. You whimper into his mouth, and Ben groans as your hand trails down to the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” Ben grunts as your nails drag across his boner. “Six fucking months I’ve been wanting this, you know that?”

You pull away, attaching your lips to the underside of his jaw. “You know you could have had me. I was fucking desperate for you, Benny.”

“Mmm, well … I figured.”

You move your head away from him, furrowing your brows. “Awfully conceited.”

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting said that a lot of women have spiked sexual libidos during pregnancy.” You push Ben onto his back and throw a leg over his thigh, straddling his waist, your panty clad cunt pressed against his dick. “And - oh, fuck. I’ve missed this, sweetheart.”

You try not to wear your emotions on your sleeve but it’s hard - your heart swells and your cheeks heat up, and then you rock your hips against his once.

Try not to let him know how much you’ve missed this.

The pair of you have all the time in the world, really, but you can’t move fast enough. You grind your cunt against his rock hard erection, desperate for him to be inside of you, to be full of him again and he hisses, hand trailing behind you to land one firm smack on your ass. He grins as you yelp at the sensation.

Ben reaches down and tugs your underwear away, and your hands go to the ties of his sweatpants, undoing the small knot with deft, shaking fingers. You tug his pants down over his cock and it’s - it’s so much bigger than you remember.

He’s achingly hard, his cock swollen and purple at the tip, and when you wrap your hand around the base he lets out a soul-wrenching moan. His hands go to your hips, massaging your sides as you adjust yourself so you’re sitting just above his cock, positioning yourself above him before sinking down.

“Oh, fuck!”

He is bigger than you remembered, and it just about fucking hurts, having him inside of you. You throw your head back and cry out, feeling breathtakingly full after months of only your fingers. Ben moans loudly, fingernails digging into your sides, and you’re sure it’s just as surprising for him as it is for you.

“You’re so fucking tight. Oh my - god.” Ben’s face is coated in sweat and you bring your hands down to his cheeks, wiping some of it away before leaning down to kiss him sloppily. “Feel so good around me. I fucking missed this, sweetheart.”

“I missed it - I missed you,” you breathe. And you’ve seen him so much, still, in these past months, but it’s different. You know it is. Being around him and being with him are two separate planes of existence and you’ve been stuck on the former for six fucking months. 24 weeks. “I needed you so bad.”

Ben’s hands on your hips help you work your way up and down, and you just want to lie down and let him fuck you but that’s - not necessarily a possibility, now. Not with your girl inside of you, restricting your movement in that way.

(You wouldn’t give her up for the world.)

His thumb presses into your clit, rubbing circles into it with an achingly slow pace as you try to maintain steady rhythm, bouncing up and down, rock n’ rolling your hips against his. You brace your hands on his chest for leverage, lifting yourself up off of him and then back down, and with every movement, mixed with his hips bucking up into yours, that perfect spot inside of you is hit.

Again and again.

You were so close when he started and you topple over the edge within minutes, cumming desperately, seeing the night sky behind your eyes. Stars align your vision and it’s so beautiful, so great, all you want to see. That ball of pressure builds up in your core and explodes, again and again.

“Fuck,” you moan out, voice strangled and throaty, and you finally have to stop moving - admit defeat - because your legs are exhausted and you’re completely emotionally and physically overwhelmed, and really, you’re not sure that this isn’t some crazy dream you’ve made up in your mind, anyway. “Wait -”

And you detach yourself from him. Ben cries out and you resist the urge to grin at the noise, how needy he is for you, how much he’s wanted this. You roll onto your side and Ben follows, his chest pressed against your back, and with this new position he re enters you.

It’s different - you’ve never tried this before, even in your hypersexual relationship in the pre-gunshot, pre-break up, pre-baby days. He wraps his arm around your body, fingers rubbing at your clit again and you know you’ll be reaching your second orgasm at the hands of the man you’re so fucking in love with it physically hurts.

Every time your lungs fill with oxygen Ben tears it away - short moans escape your body as he fucks you, mixed with the firm circles on your sensitive nub, and you lean your head back into your shoulder. Ben tilts his head so he can press his lips to yours in the messiest kiss you’ve had, but it’s perfect. It’s all you wanted - no, needed - and your eyes water just at the feeling.

“Want me to cum inside of you?” The question is fucking stupid, because you’re already pregnant - there’s nowhere else you’d rather him cum except for inside of you, filling you up again. His other hand works at your sensitive breasts, tweaking your nipples so they’re peaked in the cold air. Even with the sweat that drips down your body you’re fucking freezing, and it reminds you of that first night you spent together.

(And you swear this is the most passionate sex you’ve ever had.)

You nod, thick mane of curls tickling his nose, and Ben buries his face into your locks. He presses his body close to yours and finally lets himself fucking erupt, releasing a strangled moan. Thick spurts of hot cum coat your inner walls and you sob out, squeezing your eyes shut, and the feeling of his cum inside of you after so long sends you over for the second time. Your chest rises and falls with desperate, heaving breaths, and you suck in air until you’re coughing.

Ben buries his head into your shoulder, his breathing just as desperate as yours. And the pair of you don’t speak - can’t, at least in your case - and you try not to think about any of it. The break up, the future, the past. Just let yourself live in the moment, in Ben’s arms, until exhaustion chases you into a dream filled sleep.

—————————

When you wake up Ben is gone.

You’re not sure what you expected, but he hasn’t answered your texts in three weeks. You told him that you have to talk, and that you should be getting started on the nursery as you approach 7 months, and the read receipts mocks you.

You hate being the one to double text. It only seems necessary.

you can’t fucking ignore me benjamin.

Read.

we’re adults. we’re having a fucking kid. this isn’t right.

Read.

what did i do?

Read. Read. Read. Read.

You find the key to his apartment in your car and you debate going to pay him a visit but you decide - foolishly, perhaps, and for the sake of your pride alone - that you want him to find you first. To seek you out.

You’re not really sure if you’re being the adult or the child here. Maybe both. Maybe neither. You’re just being you, and as you get further along you find that it’s the easiest thing to be.

—————————

At 7 months you find yourself getting a bit panicked about the Ben situation. He hasn’t texted you nor sought you out yet, and you can’t help but think that this is it. Unconditional support has found its end. You and Ben are done, and he’s gone.

Wouldn’t be the first man in your life to do that, but with a child on the way?

(Still not the first man.)

It’s a heavy cloud weighing down on you, raining on your parade wherever you go. LIke sitting at a restaurant with your cousin, picking at your lo mein with a permanent lump in your throat.

And she looks at you, brows furrowed, bringing her hand in front of your face to snap twice. Regain your attention. “Are you alright?”

No, you want to say. I think I fucked everything up. And you didn’t, you have to remind yourself. You haven’t done anything wrong. You don’t know what the fuck is happening with Ben but - but what did you do? To deserve what he’s doing?

So you smile at your cousin. “I’m fine.” The baby moves inside of you. “She’s crazy, I swear. Wanted Japanese and now she’s freaking the fuck out at the thought of it.” And that’s a lie. You’re so hungry for the noodles you could fucking scream, but you also think you drank your lemonade too fast.

You shove your phone into the pocket of your jacket and stand, giving your cousin a smile before turning and walking towards the bathrooms. It’s a small corner of the restaurant - two doors, marked with a small man and a small woman, and you lean against the wall by the women’s restroom.

Breaaaaathe.

It’s hard. You open your phone and look at your texts, as if expecting to see a response from Ben that you’d somehow missed but it isn’t there. Of course it isn’t. You’d know. You’ve only been checking it obsessively for weeks, desperate for him to reach out and apologize for the shit he’s been pulling.

And there’s nothing.

He doesn’t fucking care.

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t.

You put your phone away and look up, shock flowing through your veins. “Joe -?”

The ginger looks up from his own phone, and your eyes meet.

“Oh!” And he looks genuinely happy to see you. It’s - it’s so good. So nice, that he looks as if running in to you is some miraculous experience. When have you last felt that from someone? “Y/N! Hi!”

“Hi, Joe,” you smile, and then your mind connects the dots - Joe - Ben’s best friend - Ben who won’t talk to you -

And then you take a step forward, hugging your jacket closer around your body, and ask, “Have you spoken to Ben lately? By chance?”

Joe furrows his eyebrows and takes his bottom lip in between his teeth - the way Ben does. You wonder if one of them picked it up from each other, or if it’s just a coincidence. “I … I have. And I heard about your, uh, situation with him.”

“You have?” You tilt your head, smiling. “Can you explain it to me?”

“What?”

“Ben hasn’t texted me in nearly a month,” you tell Joe, and you don’t want to be getting angry but you can feel the heat flowing through your veins. It isn’t Joe’s fault, you tell yourself. “I don’t know what I did. I mean - well, if he told you, then don’t you know why I’m being fucking shunned?”

Oops. You hadn’t meant to slip the f-word in there. Sometimes it just wiggles its way into your thoughts.

Joe hesitates, and then says, “I think he’s scared.”

“Scared?”

“I don’t know. That’s what he told me. He said he was scared.”

I’m scared too, you want to say. You want to yell it. Your phone feels like a fire lit in your pocket, all of a sudden, and you want to throw it on the ground until it fucking smashes. You want to shake Joe - no, Ben - until he understands, understands that everything he’s feeling is amplified for you. And you’re fucking furious about it. But you can’t take this out on Joe. It isn’t his fault.

You swallow. Take a deep breath. “Okay.” You need to think about what to say. Because now there’s - a prickling behind your eyes, and you can feel the tears on their way, and if you cry in front of Joe you’ll never forgive yourself. “Can you tell him to call me?” And, fuck, your voice cracks on the very last syllable. “Please. That’s - I just really, really need him to call me, okay?”

Your eyes are watery and you sniffle pathetically. Joe nods - you see that - and then he steps forward, wrapping his arms around you, and you let yourself fall into his embrace.

It doesn’t matter that he’s practically a stranger.

It doesn’t matter that you’re waiting for the bathrooms at a random Japanese restaurant.

All that matters is this. The comfort. The silent promise of some sort of remedy for whatever’s been going on with Ben. Joe can help.

You trust him on that.

—————————

The doorbell rings as soon as your cousin drops you off at home - you’ve kicked off your sneakers and ripped off your jacket and then there it is.

Ring.

You grip the doorknob with a sweaty hand, swallowing thickly before calling to the other side of the door, “Who is it?”

There’s a pause. And then, “It’s me.”

So you open the door. Come face to face with Ben, his hair messy, and every bit of your anger evaporates at the sight of him.

Ben takes a step inside and shuts the door behind him, and then you throw your arms around his shoulders. He presses his hands against your back, and even if your stomach is in the way it’s fine - feels good. Good to have him back.

“I’m so sorry,” Ben mumbles into your hair. His voice is muffled by your locks and you tighten your grip on him. A silent it’s okay, even if it isn’t. It will be. “I should’ve never - fuck. I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart. I love you so much.” He pauses. “I’m not your bodyguard anymore. I quit. I had to. You know - you know I had to.”

You pause. Pull away, brace your palms on his cheeks. It’s what you’ve needed to hear - all you’ve ever wanted to. It all feels so fucking right - the relationship you’ve needed, the baby you’re going to have, the future you can foresee.

“Fuck, Benny. I love you,” you tell him. “I love you so much.”

And then you lean up, press your lips to his, and you work your way further into the house. There’s no better place to start making up for lost time like the present, you moan into the cool air, and he throws his head back and laughs, the small distraction breaking his focus away from suckling a hickey into your inner thigh. Just like how he used to.

—————————

“You know, we should do one of those things where we put her name up on the wall above her crib in - like - block letters, or something.”

You push yourself on the rocking chair in the corner of the future-nursery, watching as Ben works at the crib on the ground. You haven’t bothered yourself with helping too much - at least, not with the heavy-duty, manual labour type of shit - but the decorations have been perfected because of you.

It’s a beautiful room. You and Ben spent weeks agonizing over how to do it and you finally think you’ve nailed it - white walls and a grey crib, carpet so soft that your feet sink right into it. You picked out the rocking chair, too. Same shade of grey as the crib, and adorned with a pink pillow and a dozen of stuffed animals that have been evicted to the ground so you could sit.

“That’s a good idea,” Ben tells you, squinting his eyes to read the instructions for setting up the crib. “We don’t have a name, though.”

You hum. Not officially, you don’t - haven’t gotten around to that conversation - but you certainly have ideas. “Well, let’s get on it, then. Wanna hear my ideas?”

Ben grins. “Sure, sweetheart.”

“Alright!” you clap your hands together and then fish your phone from your pocket. You turn it on and flick to your notes app, scrolling until you find the list of names you’d put together. “Starting from my favourites and going down. Evangelina, Charlotte, Madeline -”

“They’re long.”

“Well, long names can get cute nicknames, you know? Anyway … Madeline, Caroline, Genevieve, Adaline …”

Ben holds up a finger, and you stop reciting your list. “I like Genevieve a lot.”

“Really?” you tilt your head to the side. “Because that’s closer to the bottom of my list, really.”

He laughs, turning so that he’s looking at you. “Well, I like it more than the others. I don’t know a lot of girls named Genevieve, either.”

You lean your head back, pushing your foot off of the ground to rock yourself a bit more. You shut your eyes, rest a hand on your stomach and think - Genevieve. You certainly like it or else it wouldn’t have been there in the first place - and it presents the nickname Evie, which you dubbed as the ideal nickname for Evangelina, your first choice.

“Hypothetically,” you begin, and Ben mockingly rolls his eyes. “If we named her Genevieve, what would her middle name be?”

“Does she need one?”

“It seems right.”

Ben pauses, looking away from the instructions he’d been trying to comprehend. “I don’t know. Marie?”

You groan. “Something less basic, would you?”

“Then what about Charlotte? That’s cute, isn’t it? And I know you like it.”

The name flies around your head - Genevieve Charlotte Jones - and then a tiny grin tugs at your mouth. You nibble on your bottom lip and then bring your thumbnail up to your mouth.

Ben glances up at you, gauging your reaction to the suggestion. “What do you think?”

You push yourself off of the chair and kneel down beside your boyfriend, leaning in to press a firm kiss to his lips. “I love it. I love it so much, and I love you so much.”

—————————

Hitting the nine month mark is surprising and unsettling and it certainly shouldn’t be. Almost every mother gets to this point - where, as Dr. Green says, it’s any day now. But you feel special for it - feel an amount of pride, especially when you walk into the nursery and look at the nine letters spelling out your daughter’s name, right above her crib.

Hitting the nine-month-and-one-week mark is normal and it doesn’t bother you, really, that your girl has gone past when she’s supposed to come out. Pregnancies are nine months, aren’t they? But she wants to stay, you suppose. And that’s fine. You accept that. Lord knows how difficult it’ll be when she comes so you’re fine with it, fine with her staying.

Hitting the nine-and-a-half-month mark makes you desperate.

You decide you want her out. You’re done with being pregnant, having her kicking you at all hours of the day, craving everything, constantly feeling exhausted. And you try your best to keep it from the public, reducing it to rumours coming from unreliable news sites, so social media has been a burden.

Selfies. Selfies and shots of just your face, and absolutely nothing from your stomach down. No photoshoots, and you don’t let your friends post anything that’ll give it away.

Genevieve and Ben can be your surprise until she comes. Then you’ll decide what to do, whether to tell everyone, whether to keep her a secret for a bit longer.

Until she comes. And it seems like she never will.

You and Ben decide to make Joe and your cousin her godparents, in case of any emergency, and they take the role with (in your cousin’s case) a squeal and a hug, or (in Joe’s case) tears. There hardly seems anyone more fit for the job than the people who, in their own way, brought you to this point.

At nine and a half months you’re lying in bed with Ben, your hair wet from a shower, and your body is riddled with tiredness - it’s all you’ve been feeling. Tired and sore, all the fucking time, and Genevieve is still in no rush to make her appearance into the world.

“Ben,” you mumble, feeling his arms around your waist, hand against your stomach. “I can’t wait until she’s here.”

You can feel him smile against your neck. “Me, too.”

“No.” you turn your head so you can look at him. “I’m really sick of being pregnant, if you want to hear the truth. It’s a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

Ben untangles his body from yours and sits up on his knees, looking down at you. The moonlight streams in through the window, illuminating his body to you and yours to him, and he leans down to kiss your neck. “What can I do to help?”

It’s such an innocent request. You’re already prepared to taint it as you push yourself onto your elbows, sighing and telling him, “Well, there’s this rumor I heard.”

“Alright …”

“That having an orgasm can induce labor.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Ben grins. His hand trails from your stomach to your pajama shorts, undoing the tie before starting to pull them down your thighs until they’re dangling from one ankle, and he can push your legs apart with warm hands. His hair is floppy and the light lets you see it better, every individual strand highlighted by the glow.

“I’ll give you all the orgasms you want, sweetheart,” Ben tells you, voice soft yet loud in the silent room. In what feels like a heartbeat he’s lying on his stomach in between your legs, bracing his palms on your smooth inner thighs. He traces your skin, drawing pictures and telling stories that only he can understand until a chill runs right up your spine, and your fingers run through his hair before squeezing the locks.

Ben takes the hint, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your clit. Your hips buck up instinctively - the small jolt of pleasure makes you feel so fucking good already, so desperate for him. Ben looks up at you with a wicked grin, teeth shining, and then he leans in to nip at your clit.

“Fuck!” you gasp, sucking in a sharp breath. “God. God.”

One of his fingers, as thick as two of yours, traces along your folds, collecting wetness on his fingertips. Slowly he slides his digits into your cunt and your body accepts them eagerly, walls clenching around him - Ben leans in to kiss your inner thighs again, sucking another dark hickey into the skin.

He fucks you nice and slow with his fingers, moving his mouth from your thighs to wrap his lips around your clit. He sucks the small bud desperately, cheeks hollowing, and you’re sure he’s rock hard but all he wants is for you to cum. You can tell when he gets like this, when all he’s chasing is your pleasure and not his own. His hips, though, give him away. Rocking against the mattress, needy for any bit of friction, and it’s so unbelievably erotic to watch.

You reach down and search for his free hand, the one not pumping in and out of your pussy, and you intertwine your fingers. Ben’s eyes flicker up to you and he raises his eyebrows, waggling them until you’re giggling and then choking on the air you’re sucking in.

Your bodies are luminescent under the moon, and you press your other hand overtop of your stomach, crying out as your hips buck into your boyfriend’s mouth. Ben’s teeth graze your clit at the same time as his fingers curl to brush your g-spot and the pressure building in your abdomen finally releases, legs quivering and throat raw and skin clammy.

Ben milks it out for every last drop he can, and then he laps the juices up off his fingers that are beginning to trail down his wrist. You can feel stickiness on the inside of your thigh but you don’t mind, really. Usually that would bother you, and maybe you’d ask Ben to go get a washcloth, but you don’t want him to move as he cuddles into your side.

“Do you want me to help you?” you question, soft voice giving away the exhaustion you’d been hoping to hide. “You looked … needy, Ben.”

He snorts, kissing your shoulder. “I fixed it myself. Don’t make fun of me.”

A grin tugs at your lips. “I wasn’t planning on it. Jesus. Go to sleep.”

Ben kisses your puckered lips and then tugs the sheets up over you. They stick to your sweat covered body and it feels good. Cools you off, almost, even as your human furnace of a lover attaches himself to you.

Fingers run absentmindedly through his hair, and your eyelids are brutally heavy but you can’t fall asleep. Even as Ben begins to snore.

This is how it’s supposed to be, you think. How you wanted it to be. You and the love of your life and your unborn daughter, stirring inside of you.

(By tomorrow night, she won’t be stirring inside of you - she’ll be very much outside, sobbing with her fists in her eyes that match her dad’s.)

(But you don’t know that yet.)

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy fluff #borhap imagines #borhap smut #pls follow the maker of that absolutely beautiful gif #and thank you all o much for reading these bodyguard fics

1K notes · View notes

fromcrossroadstoking · 5 years ago

Text

Roe and the Christmas Miracle

Part 10 (the final part!) of Welcome to the 5061st

**I`m not the greatest writer and this isn`t exactly the most popular AU, so please know that if you have ever reblogged, commented, or liked any part of this, it has meant the absolute world to me and I love you for it. Thank you so much for reading this 💙💙💙**

Tags: @gottapenny @itisjustmethistime @indigosandviolets @scarecrowmax

-------------

December 24th, 1000

Mistletoe hung in every doorway of every tent and every building of the entire 5061st. No one was entirely sure who was responsible for the mistletoe invasion (although smart money was on Luz) but plenty of people were taking full advantage of the new decorations. Needless to say kissing was at an all time high in the unit, not that anyone was complaining. Nurses, doctors, medics, regular Army, hell, even the MPs, were getting in on the fun. Even Liebgott and Grant managed to have plenty of fun under the mistletoe while no one was looking. Roe knew that for a fact. Because he had caught them. More than once.

Roe, himself, had politely avoided all full on kisses in favor of cheek kisses. Not that he was a prude, it was just that there was only one person in the entire MASH he cared to kiss and it happened to be the one person he hadn't managed to catch under mistletoe yet.

But besides that frustrating development, things were going surprisingly well at the 5061st. It had been almost a full 24 hours since they last had a patient. It was damn near unheard of.

December 24th, 1030

Another development at the 5061st was the arrival of Saint Luz. That morning, Luz had donned a Santa hat and started going around with an Army duffel full of gifts, quickly earning himself a new nickname. Everyone got something from the newly dubbed Saint Luz.

Winters got a fancy pen.

Grant got a kitchen knife.

Talbert got a deck of cards.

Liebgott got a Flash Gordon comic book.

Sisk got a new wrench and screwdriver.

And so it went - each gift small, but unexpected and deeply appreciated.

Someone pointed out that he was a day early on the gifts to which Luz happily responded that they had all been such good boys and girls that they had earned early gifts. (Roe suspected Luz was also taking advantage of the lull in patients - who knew how long that would last.)

Roe watched in amusement as Luz made his way around the camp giving out gifts with a cheerfulness that seemed to light up the whole place. He started to get fidgety waiting for his turn.

"Gene, you playin' or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry Ralph. Just thinkin'"

Roe`s eyes darted over the chess board, trying to figure out his next move.

December 24th, 1045

Spina absolutely crushed Roe at chess that round. Not that it was surprising, given how distracted Roe was.

After the game ended, Roe stretched out on his cot and picked up a book from the crate turned nightstand of sorts next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Spina staring at the door, face pulled into a frown.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I`m alright. It`s just... it seems too quiet, ya know?"

Roe`s mouth twitched down into a small frown too as he thought about what Spina was saying. Not having a single patient of any sort was a bit unnerving in a way. But why look a gift horse in the mouth?

"Anyway, I`m gonna hit the showers."

"Good, you stink."

"Jerk," Spina playfully tossed a dirty sock at Roe, "How`s that for stinky?"

December 24th, 1100

Roe was sitting cross legged on the floor next to his cot when Spina returned from the showers.

"The hell you doin'?"

"Nothin'"

"Nothin'?? You`re feedin' carrots to somethin' under your cot!"

"Guess, that`s what I`m doin' then."

"Gene..." At the hint of exasperation in his voice, Roe looked up at his friend.

"It`s a bunny."

"Shit, is it Scruffy? The hell`s it doin' under your cot?"

"Ain`t Scruffy an' I`m hidin' him so Luz don`t see him before Christmas."

Roe had turned back to keep feeding the bunny but he could feel Spina`s eyes on the back of his neck.

"Are you two...?"

"No," Roe prayed that his cheeks weren`t turning as red as they felt, "we ain`t."

"You two still aren`t?! Jesus, Gene, the way you two flirt like two goddamn little school girls -"

"Ralph."

"Really, Gene, the hell`s takin' so long?"

Roe didn`t have an answer for that because, really, what was taking so long?

December 24th, 1630

It wasn't until right before dinner that Roe spotted Luz making his way toward his tent. Roe was perched on the edge of his bed, waiting. As soon as Luz opened the door, Roe was up in a flash. Roe grabbed Luz by the front of his jacket and slammed his mouth against Luz`s before he could say a word.

When he finally pulled away and let go of Luz`s jacket, Luz stood there speechless.

"Mistletoe," it was all Gene could get out at the moment. They both looked up at the mistletoe hanging above their heads.

"Oh."

"Mhmm."

"Well," Luz chewed on his bottom lip, "I am still standing under the mistletoe and, uh, I think that means you should still be kissing me."

Roe smirked a bit as his fingers once again curled in to the front of Luz`s jacket, pulling him closer, "Think you might be right."

December 25th, 0700

"Ralph? Hey, Ralph. Come on, get up."

Some days trying to get Spina up was the hardest thing Roe had to do. Spina slept like the dead (there had been a few times Roe had actually checked for a pulse). Thankfully, today Spina got up without too much prodding.

"Alright, I`m up, I`m up. What time is it?"

"It`s Christmas."

"That ain`t a time."

"Ralph."

Spina finally sat up. He reached out and ruffled Roe`s hair, "Just kiddin' Gene. I know what day it is. Merry Christmas bud."

Spina reached in to the trunk beside his bed and pulled out a small present, offering it to Roe. Roe smiled and produced Spina`s present from behind him. Neither of them could rip into the presents fast enough.

Spina gaped slightly as he unwrapped a hand-carved wooden frame with a picture he hadn`t seen before of his wife and daughter inside.

"Made it myself. An' I wrote an' asked 'em to send a picture that you didn`t have yet."

"Jesus, Gene, I..." Spina felt himself choking up and he swallowed hard, "I love it Gene."

Roe couldn`t help but feel a little proud at Spina`s reaction.

Turning his attention to the present in his hands, he finished unwrapping what Spina had got him. What he unwrapped was a book of Cajun folktales. A memory surfaced of him telling Spina briefly several months ago about how his grandma used to tell him all these stories when he was a kid and how he wished he could remember them better. It had been a small moment, but apparently Spina hadn`t forgotten it. Tearing his eyes away from his new book, he looked up at his best friend with a giant smile.

"Thanks Ralph," Roe squeezed Spina in a tight hug.

December 25th, 0730

Roe had one other present to give today. He made his way to the 5061st`s headquarters where Luz both worked and bunked. He was happy to find Luz was already wide awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, lacing up his boots.

"Merry Christmas George!"

Luz hopped up from the bed with a grin to kiss Roe, "Merry Christmas Gene." As he went to kiss Roe again, Roe moved back, "Hold on. Present first. Close your eyes."

Luz did as he was told, butterflies in his stomach as he thought about what on earth Roe could have gotten him.

"Alright. Open 'em."

Luz opened his eyes to see Roe holding out a cage to him. A cage that contained a bunny.

"I know it ain`t Scruffy but I thought you might like a new bunny."

"Gene! I love him!" The thousand watt smile on Luz`s face made Roe`s heart melt.

December 25th, 2100

Another day came and went without a single patient. It was highly unusual but it was hardly mentioned by anyone in the 5061st. Perhaps they were all afraid of jinxing such a streak of luck, especially at Christmastime. And now night had arrived and with it, the 5061st`s Big Christmas Extravaganza.

Everyone was crowded in to the mess tent which had been decorated with balloons and streamers - none of which were Christmas colors but during the Korean War, you work with what you can get. Grant and Talbert managed to make a cake - a cake! Everyone was wearing homemade party hats. There was music and dancing and lots and lots of alcohol. It was a real, honest to god, party.

Spina, who had already had a few drinks, was bear hugging everyone in sight. He had already squeezed Roe so hard a couple of times that Roe thought his lungs would burst. Sisk was having trouble standing up already. Liebgott, who had declared several times that he didn`t "celebrate this shit", also declared he was still up for a party and if everyone else was getting drunk, then dammit, he was too. Babe was attempting some kind of dance on top of a table and Talbert was egging him on (Roe was almost willing to put money on Babe being the first casualty of the night). Even Nixon from I Corp had showed up. He and Winters were laughing about something over in the corner.

Luz, of course, was fully in his element. He was the life of the party, cracking jokes, starting sing-alongs, making sure everyone had drinks. Good ol' Saint Luz - effortlessly making sure everyone was having a good time.

Roe was damn near entranced watching Luz make his way around the room and when Luz`s path finally crossed Roe`s, Roe simply couldn`t keep himself from reaching out and pulling him closer.

December 25th, 2358

"You realize that once that clock strikes midnight, we`ll have had no wounded for 3 days? 3 days! It`ll be a goddamn Christmas miracle!"

At Spina`s proclamation, all the eyes in the room locked on to the clock`s hands, watching with bated breath as the hands steadily counted down the last minute until their official miracle. Many, if not all of them, stood there with a small knot of worry in their stomachs that at the very last second a chopper or ambulance would come racing in and ruin their precious moment.

Roe was almost positive that two minutes had never passed so slowly. But they passed. And without incident.

As the clock struck midnight, cheers erupted all around. The 5061st had just experienced a certifiable miracle and they were about to celebrate the hell out of it.

In the midst of all the noise and excitement, Roe managed to pull Luz outside. With Luz`s hand clutched firmly in his own, he led Luz to a quiet spot just behind his own tent.

Stopping in his tracks, he turned towards Luz and smiled, "George."

"Gene." Luz returned the smile.

Roe moved closer to Luz, the distance between them shrinking to mere inches. "Or should I be callin' you Saint Luz?"

Luz`s bright eyes peered up at Roe, "I`m not always such a saint, you know."

"Well then, Saint Luz," Roe leaned forward and pressed quick hungry kisses to Luz`s lips as he began to lead him in to his tent, "Let`s see how un-saintly you can be."

#and thats a wrap!#i sincerely hope if youve read this little series youve enjoyed it #Welcome to the 5061st #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #eugene roe #george luz #ralph spina #i wrote a thing

13 notes · View notes

an-unknown-writers-world · 5 years ago

Text

Breaking Routine

Day Seven: Ice Skating

Part of @panicfob 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Warnings: Angst

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (First Person, Nameless) ; Sam Wilson x Reader(platonic)

Word Count: 2171

A/N: The beginning of this series can be found on my Masterlist if you’ve missed any of this.

-----------------------------------------------

It had been a long, hard quiet day. I woke up with the worst hangover I’d had since freshman year of college, although I was at a loss for which was worse, my alcohol hangover or the emotional turmoil, I was feeling. The day had been full of things that were amiss, I woke up later than normal, so Bucky had come and gone by the time I made breakfast. I had tried to go for a run but lacked any motivation, I even tried a few rounds with the heavy bag and couldn’t stay focused on it. Most of the day had passed even into the evening and I was yet to see Bucky and believe me, I had looked everywhere.

I was beginning to think that game night was a bad idea or at least the alcohol part of it. I had practically thrown myself at Bucky and haven’t seen him since. I thought we were fine afterward, at least I was fine. I understood his thought process and I respected his decision even when every fiber of my being wanted to fight him.

After eating dinner, I realized pacing the house wasn’t getting me anywhere and I had already done all the laundry and dishes I could find. So, I found myself on the couch in the theater room watching ice skating. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted from being so inside my own head. I wasn’t sure how long I had been there before Sam moseyed in.

“You look miserable,” Sam said plopping into the chair next to the couch.

“Gee, thanks,” I replied not pulling my eyes from the tv.

“Maria says hello.”

I frowned, I hadn’t seen Maria in weeks, I didn’t even know she was back in town. She calls most if not all of the missions still. “You got to see her?”

“She got back into town last night, she’ll be here for a few weeks.”

“Hope I’ll get to see her,” I said looking at him.

“You will, she’s gonna be at the Stark Christmas party thing, I get to be her plus one.” He grinned, “Guess Barnes is the only one not coming. That is unless you’re taking him.”

I shrugged. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“I just assumed with as cozy as you two have been lately, that it didn’t need to be talked about.” Sam pushed.

“Well, you shouldn’t assume Sam.” My tone came out harsher than I intended. “If things were so peachy between us maybe he wouldn’t have vanished the entire day after I practically threw myself at him.”

“Whoa,” He sighed. “That wasn’t the response I was expecting.”

Grabbing the pillow next to me, I fiddled with the threaded design. Fidgeting had always been my give away for anxiety, ever since I was a little girl. I hadn’t intended to tell Sam any of this, it really wasn’t any of his business.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked.

I shrugged, “Not much to say. We were all drunk, I asked him to stay with me and he told me no. He went to bed and I haven’t seen him since.”

“That’s it he just said no?”

“Well not technically, he gave me a noble speech about how he refused to stay with me if alcohol was involved in my decision making.” I rolled my eyes. “Sometimes his old-fashioned personality can be really frustrating.”

“Dude’s got some morals though. And as much as it pains me to defend him, there’s not a whole heck of a lot of those he can hold onto still. Mind control kind of robs you of a lot of those.”

I was shocked at Sam’s defense of Bucky; he had incredibly valid points, but this was progress for them. “That’s the things Sam, I’m not even mad at him for it.” I sighed realizing things for myself for the first time today. “I’m mad at myself for doing it, to begin with, it wasn’t the right time and I knew that I just didn’t want to be apart from him. The thing that upsets me the most is that he’s been gone for god only knows how long and I haven’t heard from him.”

“He left around nine-thirty this morning,” Sam stated,

I looked at him confused.

“We interacted over coffee this morning.”

“You interacted? Like you had a conversation?” I laughed.

“Not sure I’d call it that,” He shrugged. “He grumbled about him being an idiot and an asshole, which I naturally agreed with.”

“Sam,” I chided

“I didn’t know what was going on.” He urged, “If I did, I probably would have just sent him back upstairs to fix it.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“He didn’t say specifically, just that he was going to see a friend.”

“Ugh,” I threw the pillow in my face.

“That was a bit dramatic.”

“Shush. I’ve been stewing all day.”

“What are you watching anyway?” Sam asked looking at the tv.

“Figure skating.”

“Never understood the point of it, ice rinks are for hockey, not dance parties.”

I laughed, “Those girls are more athletic than you are.”

“How do you figure?”

We went back and forth bickering about pointless facts about ice skating in general. I had always knowns I was too clumsy to ever put myself on ice, but that didn’t stop me from watching it every winter that I could. We agreed that each use of an ice rink required specific skills that neither of us possessed. Eventually, he decided it was time for him to find food and get a workout in.

“Also, before I forget, Morgan and Peter are coming over tomorrow to build Gingerbread houses.”

“Morgan can stay, the other kid’s gotta go.”

“You can’t hate him for webbing you forever. Will you turn the light off?” I called out as he got to the doorway.

“It’s bad for your eyesight,” He replied, turning the light out anyways.

I wasn’t sure I cared about my eyesight at the moment, instead, I snuggled further into the couch pulling the blanket off the back; I stretched out with my head on one of the armrests. Focusing on the screen I tried to clear my mind and just focus on the tv, watching their beautiful rhythm, the smooth glides broke up by intense twists and jumps. It was mesmerizing really. I’m not sure how long I stayed that way, but it must have been a while.

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky said from the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“It’s a public space,” I stated,

He didn’t respond, instead, he came to sit on the couch. Carefully lifting my legs so they laid across his lap with the blanket. We had sat this way every night to watch the news lately, it was comfortable, but it felt wrong with my current mood. Neither of us spoke through the next routine, but it wasn’t the comfortable silence I was used to. It was thick with unspoken tension and unheard emotions.

“I’ve always had an irrational fear that I would fall and get my wrist sheared off by the blade of a skate,” Bucky confessed breaking the silence.

I looked him a little confused at first, “Always, like since you were a little kid?”

He nodded, “Even Steve would go ice skating; granted he usually broke or bruised something. But I was always content to sit on the side and watch. Did you ever skate growing up?” He asked.

I shook my head, “The town I grew up didn’t have any kind of ice rink and the nearest city that did was about two hours away. Even if it did, I don’t think I’d ever try. I’m too clumsy, I’d be afraid of falling.”

“Isn’t it funny how we let the fear of falling keep us from doing things we think we’d enjoy.” Bucky mused.

He spoke so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it. I sat hesitantly wanting to speak, there were a hundred topics on the tip of my tongue, where had he been all day, did he leave because he couldn’t face me, was he okay? I wanted to apologize for my actions the night before, but then I wondered did they really require an apology, me vocalizing something that I wanted.

I was beginning to feel like our relations the last few days was like a figure skating routine, long smooth glides, the steady build of our friendship, the first twist with the cookies, the curving glides with the tree and stitches episode and that first jump on the sleigh ride. Routines end, sometimes they end poorly with the skater crashing to the ground, other times they end with a beautiful bow.

“Can I turn this off so we can talk for a few minutes?” Bucky asked.

This didn’t sound good.

“Sure, you’ll want to turn on the lamp behind you.”

He reached behind him flipping on the light and quickly powered the tv off. Turning ever so slightly, my legs still across his lap but his body facing me almost head-on now. The serious expression on his face was impossible to read.

“I owe you an apology,” He started.

“No, you don’t.” I interrupted. “I owe you one.”

Bucky sighed, “Please, let me.”

I nodded, agreeing to shut up so he could speak.

“I let my fear of falling stop me last night. There were so many different, better ways that I could have handled that last night. Neither of us wanted to be alone, I knew that’s what it was. We don’t have to sleep together to sleep together.” I smiled at the way he emphasized the first sleep. “I should have been more open and talked about it. I need to be honest with you, completely honest.”

“You haven’t shared a bed with anyone in eighty years?” I joked.

“Har, har.” He pretended to laugh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

He reached out to grab my hand. “This terrifies me.” He confessed. “I don’t know how to do this; I barely knew how to do it in the ’40s. Last night after I went to bed and I heard your door close I got back up. I stood outside your room for a while, long enough to hear the crying. It killed me, I promised you back on the sleigh that I’d never break your heart and that’s exactly what I did last night.”

“Buck,” I sighed. “You did not break my heart. I was upset, but I was also drunk and overly emotional. I should have been clearer; I was asking you to stay the night with me not jump my bones.”

Bucky laughed, “What?”

I blushed, “You don’t know what jumping someone’s bones means?”

“Can’t say that I do, doll.”

“Well, it means to have sex.”

“Oh,” He laughed.

“Let me be perfectly honest. You never have to apologize for having morals and not wanting to cross a line at a certain point. I know that there are some things I am more comfortable with than you might be. We grew up in different time periods. There’s nothing wrong with that.” I scooted down the couch to be closer to him, “I don’t want you to be afraid to say no to something because you’re afraid you’ll upset me.”

He nodded,

“You know the thing that upset me the most wasn’t even what happened last night. It sounds stupid, but I missed you at breakfast and everywhere I went in the compound today, you weren’t there. I didn’t know where you were.”

He smiled at me weakly, “You could have called or text. I was just in the city.”

I looked down at where our fingers were intertwined, “I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I was trying to give you space because I thought you were upset with me.”

“We really suck at thinking we know how each other is feeling.” I chuckled.

Bucky lifted my chin with his metal finger, “I’m not the best at saying how I feel sometimes.”

He leaned forward pressing his lips to my forehead. When he pulled back, I looked up at his stormy blue eyes pulling me in like gravity. In one fluid motion, I closed the distance between us again pressing my lips to his. It was a sweet and gentle kiss, unspoken words of forgiveness and love shared. When we finally broke the kiss, I leaned my head in the crook of his neck trying to catch my breath.

“I think that’s better than my stumbling over words.” Bucky laughed quietly.

“I don’t know, I like your words,” I replied pulling back to look at him again.

“You’re biased,” He kissed me chastely.

“I could get used to that.” I smiled.

He kissed my lips again, then forehead, the tip of my nose, before coming back and finding my lips once again.

If this was our figure skating routine for the day, I’ll take it as a smooth gliding victory.

#panic's 25 days of christmas #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #sam wilson x reader #A Very Marvel Christmas #An Unknown Writers World writes #An Unknown Writers World

56 notes · View notes

mieczyhale · 5 years ago

Text

a messy explanation of things and unnecessary information about life lately

soooo... right. i’m sorry i haven’t really been around aside from popping in here and there, and that i’ve been taking longer than usual to reply to things / not replying to things at all. it’s NOT that i’m upset with anyone or trying to ignore / avoid anyone, and it’s not that i don’t care / don’t love talking to you (whomstever you may be) i love chatting with y’all and wish i could get myself to reply to things quicker but i do not control the me lmfao honestly my sleep has never had a schedule but in recent weeks it’s kinda been operating like there’s a lil gremlin in my head who spins a wheel and picks my sleeping times at random - and it’s either like.. two hours or most of a day. there hasn’t been a lot of in between so that’s a thing!!

also in a fun added mix of maybe sleep?, missing meds, being stuck in the house more often than not, and the FUCKING EVERYTHING happening in the world right now my mental health is... probably run by the same goblin that runs my sleep schedule lmao consistency whomst?? since the lockdown started the depression has of course been around more but actually, worse than that, is how my anxiety - and by extension: my ocd - have really amped up and i need y’all to know that the struggle is painfully real (and another thing that affects shit like my replies and writing. reading as well. fics have been kinda stressful and that should be illegal. who authorized this?) i don’t hate talking about it but i don’t really like it either?? especially like.. in depth. but i will say there has been crying, screaming, pain!, and i’ve acquired a few physical injuries.

yeah

on a personal level - a ‘just me’ level - shit is an even bigger mess than usual lmao but all these things will get better eventually - they always do.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

NOW

ON A PERSONAL LEVEL - THE FULL LEVEL - THINGS.... are pretty great actually! i mean aside from the state of my fucking house e__e but Josh has been working from home for two (2) months now and it’s been really nice - people complaining about their partners being home?? can’t relate. yknow what?? i just might love that tall bastard even more from all this.fuck all y’all miserable fucks

we’ve been going out for drives and we’ve gone fishing and the only place i’ve gone too that’s re-opened is goodwill. because i require.. the shop. they do have a masks required rule! (at least at the one here) and, alongside that, the places we’ve gone that never closed (like grocery stores and the gas station and the hardware store) have social distancing rules and stuff in place which i love. can we keep social distancing after this is all over?? more things here in wisconsin are opening up and we might go to some. idk though. we also might not. either way its still a weird kind of exciting to see things opening back up?? even though i do think we’re not totally in the clear because most of our gov. sucks (our mayor tried to extend our stay-at-home order - keyword there is TRIED. we are the land of cheese, cows, and no fucking braincells for anyone)

having pets is obviously not a new thing for me but it’s still a thing. so it takes time and effort and energy and patience and love and a certain disregard for your own safety (claws. they really be as sharp as you think) so... it can be stressful, especially cuz we’ve had to keep them inside more as it gets hot out and something keeps breaking our porch screens (our cats are allowed onto our screened in porch or they can go out in a harness but we will never let them run free outside. fuck that noise) my bbies are all so cute and their personalities and idiosyncrasies are just... *chefs kiss* i love em and they’re definitely a part of what has made quarantine better

i’ve seen my mom a few times, like for my birthday and when she needed help moving Isaiah from one dorm to another and such, but that’s primarily been an option because she has become anti-mask and anti-stay-at-home-order. initially she wasn’t - she gave Isaiah and i fun lil masks since at that time trying to buy them would be impossible and she thought nothing of staying home - but i guess either as its dragged on or as she’s consumed her middle-right wing news that changed s o. she does take social distancing in public very seriously though, so at least there’s that. our favorite coffee shop, where we - pre-lockdown - always went one (1) or two (2) times a week to do art for hours re-opens on monday and that’s one of the few things i’ve truly missed.

josh’s camping trip for this weekend with his friends had to be cancelled because the parks weren’t going to open in time. so today they’re going somewhere to do at least some of the things they would have done if they had gone camping. bikes, bonfires, and cigars. i’m kinda jealous negl but he was really excited about it so mostly i’m happy

trying to figure out how human services was running things during lockdown was rough but thankfully it didn’t take much to get it sorted. mostly because my mom made the phone call i was supposed to lol (the phone anxiety is on its own level) so wednesday afternoon my mom sat with me while i had the appointment with my psychiatrist over speakerphone (which was.. an experience)

ummm.....

OH YEAH! Probably absolutely my favorite thing that’s happened is: WE’RE STARTING THE SEARCH FOR A NEW HOUSE!!!! it doesn’t mean we’re gonna be moving soon or anything, we don’t want to make the same mistake twice (buying the first house you tour that you love) because while it is a great house ultimately it is way too small for us. i mean there’s me and josh, all six cats, and ALL OUR SHIT. listen: i have an entire room dedicated to my various hobbies. and a walk in closet that isn’t big enough. and we both have collections we love and want to display (right now upstairs its hello kitty and downstairs its astronomy and the titanic. and then there’s pop figures, mtg, collectibles, our bottle collection and various knickknacks, etc.) plus all our books! then furniture and cat furniture (i.e towers) and all their shit because they are spoiled babies. and god forbid we ever have a human kid?? yeah. it’s just not big enough.

so we’re gonna take more time with this choice but what we do know is:: we wanna live out in the country (i’m paranoid and don’t like to be looked at and he loves the outdoors, lived on a farm for awhile. i also enjoy the outdoors but mostly since we moved into this house i’ve struggled with doing anything outside... while we only have one neighbor on our road. but there’s one across the road and one at the other side of our backyard and that’s just too much lol)

lets see.. um.... my birthday was may 2nd and that was pretty nice, for a pandemic birthday. there’s been a lot of stuff happening involving josh’s family but that’s not something i really wanna get into on here, tho i will say things have been better in recent weeks and it’s been... really nice. josh and i went to his mom’s house the other night and got drunk with her for fun and i actually had a really good time?? and didn’t complain about going?? that’s kinda unheard of.

i don’t have a job anymore - haven’t since early march-ish - and it kinda sucks but also the universe really did me a solid because my choices were either allow myself to work until i have a mental break again or quit. and i was leaning towards quitting (things had been going down hill with the owner and other employees and just the business as a whole for awhile and there’s a limit to the amount of bullshit i can take thanks) but now it doesn’t seem i have to. why do i think i’m jobless? i was barely working anyway, bc of the snow business was slow, and in march i got really sick and stayed home for a week. the day i was supposed to go back i was still sick, and covid19 was starting to become more of a serious situation everywhere, so josh called in for me and explained that between still being sick and my anxiety over covid (asthma + a not so great immune system) i wasn’t going in that day. i never heard from them again. so.

but it’s all good - there are some options but i’m not looking into them seriously until it’s safe to.

THAT’S ALL OF FUCKING THAT ON THAT

i felt it wouldn’t be a bad idea to come on here and explain A. what’s been going on and B. where i’ve been and C. that if i haven’t responded to you or acknowledged something you sent me / tagged me in it’s literally just because i either forgot to (for all reasons and none) or i don’t have the mental space / energy to. but that doesn’t mean you have to stop talking to me! even if i don’t respond or respond immediately i do read everything and i would die for any one of you fuckers (especially my clowns and the tom hardy movie)

oh! and just btw - sometimes i don’t get notifications (quelle surprise) tumblr and skype should really pair up and talk about their truly great systems that function so well /s 8| ANYWAY: the best and most reliable ways to get my attention are twitter ( @/mieczyhale) and discord (same name) because i have yet to see their notifications fail. ahem.

i feel like i’m missing things / forgetting things but honestly this post is long enough and also enough of a rambley mess that i’m just gonna try and ignore that feeling and carry on with my goddamn day so i might actually accomplish something. sorry if there’s spelling off or missing words. i’m not taking the time to re-read this and might even delete it bc it’s already giving me anxiety bUT WE’LL SEE ALRIGHT HI AND BYE I LOVE YOU GUYS <3

#might delete later?? probably?? havent decided.#maison speaks #tinysquidrachel

5 notes · View notes

7-wonders · 5 years ago

Text

As the World Falls Down

Summary: You’ve stood by Duncan through thick and thin, but when the true intention of the app he’s been developing is revealed, everything crashes down around you.

Word Count: 2253

A/N: Wow, lots of angst in this one. Hope you enjoy; feedback is always appreciated, whether it be in the form of comments or asks. If you feel so inclined, I would love if you would leave a like or reblog this. Thank you for taking the time to read!

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

Everything about the fateful day, that you will soon come to know as the day that everything changed, is just...odd. Not good, not bad, but odd. For starters, Duncan’s actually home when you wake up this morning. His arms are still wrapped tightly around you when your eyes open, and he’s placing soft kisses all over your face. You tilt your head up, smiling sleepily at him and gently scratching the stubble on his face.

“You’re still here? Did Washington shut down while I was asleep?” you ask quietly, not willing to disturb the comfortable silence of the morning.

“No, everything’s business as usual, as far as I’m aware.” Glancing at the clock on the wall, you notice that it’s already 9:00 a.m., which is unheard of for Duncan on a weekday. “Just...felt like working from home today.”

“Working from home? Okay, who are you and what have you done with my Duncan?”

“I thought you would be more excited about this, considering your only classes today are online,” Duncan chuckles, rubbing circles on your upper arm with his thumb.

“No, no, I am, I promise. An unexpected day of having you to myself is a dream come true! I just haven’t known you to ever work from home before.”

That’s especially true with how hard Duncan’s been working on the Shepherd Foundation’s next biggest project, which you’ve started referring to as just ‘the app.’ The app, of course, is meant to be a new analytics app that will replace Politico in terms of tracking candidates and policies. Duncan’s nearly obsessed with getting everything perfect, including providing nearly to-the-second updates on Congressional votes, debates, and any sort of political news. It’s noble, what he’s doing, but you’re a little perplexed as to why this is such a big deal for the company. You had always been under the impression that a corporation’s R & D department was in charge of developing apps, not the person poised to take the helm when his mother steps down (which, most likely, won’t be until she dies).

“The app’s stalled, and I haven’t been focused on anything but that in so long, that I honestly have no clue what to do right now.”

“It’s stalled? Why?”

“Just...some problems with getting it online.” There’s more to the story, you’re sure, but Duncan distracts you by tangling his fingers through your hair and lightly pulling on it in the way that has your eyes fluttering.

“It’ll all work out,” you reassure him half-heartedly, your voice breathy as you try not to melt from the small gesture.

“You know what would make me feel better?”

“Hmm?”

“If you would join me for a shower.”

“Well, I can’t say no to that.” Duncan picks you up in his arms, making you squeal and grasp onto him tightly. It may be a different start to the day, but it’s one that you don’t mind at all.

The rest of the day follows in much the same way after your thirty-minute shower (followed by fifteen minutes of mopping up all of the water that landed outside of the shower when Duncan had the bright idea to remove the shower head and attempt to get you off with it). Duncan’s extremely hands-on, holding your waist as you make a quick breakfast and making you sit on his lap while you both eat. You’re entrapped in his arms while you both catch up on the news, Duncan with his newspaper and you with your phone. He barely lets you out of his sight, following you around the penthouse apartment like a puppy whenever you get up to complete some task.

The affection that he’s showing you isn’t out of the ordinary, but it is pretty new. After the earth-shattering revelation that he was not his mother’s child, he was extremely lost and broken. He had nearly spiraled, and leaned heavily on you for comfort. You both agree that, were it not for you, Duncan wouldn’t have been able to go on. You were his rock, his reason to keep going even as his entire world changed. He still hadn’t been able to really talk to his mother, freezing every time he so much as looked at her when at the office. Still, he was slowly getting to a place where he could consider eventually sitting down and talking things out with her.

He couldn’t imagine what would have happened had you not been in his life when he learned the truth about his parentage, and has tried to come up with any possible way to thank you for sticking with him and comforting him. Although you reassured him multiple times that he didn’t have to do anything and that was just what significant others did, you couldn’t stop the sweet little gifts from showing up on the bedside table every few days. Jewelry, books, flowers (oh, the flowers), and any other things that Duncan found that reminded him of you. His other way of thanking you, and your personal favorite way, is expressing how much he loves and appreciates you.

You’ve picked up on the fact that Duncan’s so-called ‘love language’ is physical touch and words of affirmation throughout your relationship. He thrives when you tell him how much he means to you, and will absolutely bend to your every whim if you cling onto him. So, to have him holding you and telling you that he loves you and how important you are to him, is the norm lately. Today, though, it seems that he can’t go a full half hour without professing his love to you. He refuses to let go of you, always having a hand on some part of your body. He makes sure that you know just how central a figure in his life you are which, while nice to hear, is starting to concern you a bit.

Is there some bad news that he’s waiting to tell you? Did his meeting with the president go wrong the other day? Although Duncan’s affectionate, this is a little excessive, even for him. It sets you on edge, and he can tell that you’re starting to question what he’s doing by the time dinner finishes and you’re both sitting curled up on the couch, a glass of wine and a glass of whiskey sitting on the elegant coffee table.

“Is everything alright?” you finally ask, listening to the sounds of a regular D.C. evening outside your window. “You’ve just been...very touch-oriented today, like you did something wrong and you’re trying to make up for it.” The questions hang unspoken in the air: you still love me, right? You wouldn’t cheat on me?

“(Y/N), I would never do anything to harm you, physically or emotionally, and I haven’t.”

“But something is wrong?” You sit up, facing him now. His eyes shift around the room, looking from the kitchen, to the floor, to his alcohol, to you. He won’t, however, look you in the eyes. “Duncan,” you say firmly to spur him into speaking.

“Remember this morning, when I told you that production on the app has stalled?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “Well, there’s a reason for that.”

“What reason?” Your eyes narrow, heart suddenly thumping in your chest. “Did goddamn Seth fuck something up again, because if he did I swear to God I’m not listening when you tell me that I’m not allowed to beat his sorry-”

“No, it wasn’t Seth’s fault!” Duncan interrupts you, taking your hands in his. “Unfortunately, this time the blame lies solely on me.”

“What did you do?” your voice comes out a mere whisper, and you almost don’t want to know what he’s going to say.

“I--the Foundation is currently under investigation. The authorities believe that the app sources user information, including their location, without the user’s knowledge, in an attempt to sway elections.”

“That’s ridiculous, obviously that’s not true. That’s, like, a huge crime. I’m pretty sure that would be considered treason.” You stand up, Duncan standing with you since he refuses to let go of your hands. “This has to be some sort of attack on you and your family by the president. She’s getting so fucking out of control. I mean, I’ve been a little wary of her recent declarations, but sic-ing the FBI on you just because she’s enemies with your mom is absolutely batshit crazy.”

“(Y/N),” Duncan attempts to get your attention, but you continue your rambling without even looking at him. “(Y/N).” He grabs your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“You have to do something. Can’t you speak to Usher and have him tell President Underwood that the app would never do that?” Your eyes fill with tears at the thought of Duncan being vilified for this lie that the White House is perpetrating.

“(Y/N),” he sniffs, trying to compose himself before he speaks, “it’s true.”

When Duncan would tell you about the moment his mother confirmed his fears about not truly being a Shepherd, about how it felt as if the very ground shifted underneath him, you hadn’t been able to grasp how that felt. It wasn’t something that you were familiar with and, as far as you were aware, there were no secrets that you would encounter to cause faults in the Earth to move against one another in the way that Duncan had experienced. Now, though, you understand exactly what he means. You gasp loudly, mind refusing to understand what you’ve just been told as your knees buckle. Duncan moves his hands so that he’s gripping your arms, keeping you from collapsing to the ground. The room seems like it’s spinning around you and, although you’ve never experienced an earthquake before, you’re sure that this is what it feels like.

“You’re lying, you--you wouldn’t do that. Duncan, you couldn’t do that, not when you know the consequences of that shit.”

“I’m so, so sorry, darling.”

“Stop, I don’t--I don’t want to hear this anymore. I don’t care how funny you think this is, this is the worst joke you’ve ever told.” You’re clutching your chest, gasping for air as you start to panic.

This can’t be happening to him, not after all he’s been through. Out of all of the less-than-legal things Duncan’s done on behalf of his family, there’s no way that any of them would even conspire to commit treason. What will happen if Duncan gets arrested, or goes on trial? It’s too painful to even imagine what will happen if he gets sentenced to prison. You can’t think about life without Duncan. What is life if I can’t live it without the love of it?, you think dimly.

“I wish it was a joke, (Y/N), I really do. Listen, we’ve gotten word that the FBI is possibly going to make arrests. I don’t know if they’re going to arrest me, or what’s going to happen, but I wanted you to hear everything from me before you hear it from the media.”

“Do you realize that you can be put to death if you’re convicted of treason?” you hiss, eyes widening. “Jesus Christ, I don’t understand how this is happe-”

Time seems to slow, while also continuing at the same speed that it has been. You hear a single crash from outside before the front door is busted off of its’ hinges. A strong voice shouts “FBI,” and agents rush into the apartment with guns drawn. You shriek as they swarm the room, yelling at you and Duncan to put your hands in the air. You both comply, Duncan making sure he’s still able to touch your skin by standing close enough to you. His touch comforts you for only a moment, before he’s roughly yanked away from you by an agent.

“Duncan Shepherd, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason against the United States of America.” Duncan looks shocked, as if he didn’t know that the federal agents would arrest him in his apartment, in front of you. His hands are forced behind his back, and the agent goes to work at roughly clicking a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

“Duncan--,” you start, taking a step towards him before an agent is holding you back. “Let go of me!” Another agent stands in front of you, preventing you from breaking free and reaching Duncan.

“(Y/N), don’t worry, it’s going to be fine. Do whatever they ask of you, okay? I’ll try and get a hold of you as soon as I can, but just--call my mom, okay? She’ll know what to do.” Duncan’s voice breaks, and you futilely reach out a hand for him as they drag him towards the door. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.” Tears blur your vision as Duncan disappears around the door, the agent releasing you when he’s been successfully removed.

You fall to your knees, your body not being able to support your weight right now. The FBI swarms the apartment, collecting anything they deem as evidence and marking off your home as a crime scene. An agent tries to ask you questions, but you just wrap your arms around your knees and pull them to your chest, staring at the ground. The apartment, filled with noise and people, has never felt emptier than it has in this moment as Duncan’s shoved into a police car and driven away from your home.

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

Tag List: @khaleesimel @sammyt @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @langdonslove @heda-mikaelson @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon @sebastianshoe @girlycakepops @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @pastel-cloudz @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58 @dolceandchalamet @dandycandy75 @brieababy @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @divinelangdon @wroteclassicaly @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @trelaney @starwlkers @hexqueensupreme @hecohansen31

#Duncan Shepherd #duncan shepherd imagines #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd x reader #house of cards #house of cards imagine #hoc #michael langdon

153 notes · View notes

crimsonbluemoon · 5 years ago

Note

I’m back from my trip which means I can send in my Drabble request!! could I please request Delirious’s first transformation? Thank you so much crim, I hope your inspiration returns soon

Hey, look, this blog isn’t dead. And it’s a Libahunt request I owed for winning the moodboard thing. So, uh, enjoy?

Warning: It’s a little graphic guys, so be warned. But I mean, its his first transformation scene, so....

Sleep, recently, had become a rarity in Jonathan’s life. The itch that crawled under his skin was always buzzing in the back of his mind, keeping blue eyes fixated on the ceiling of his bedroom. In the distance, he could hear cars moving through the town, though common sense reminded him that the nearest intersection was miles away. Whatever his brain was concocting in his head wasn’t real, no matter how intricate the noises sounded thrumming in his ears.

College had been, for lack of better words, a letdown. His parents had been over the moon when he’d been accepted into a local community college, though disappointed that they didn’t have dormitories for him to move into. Their lack of separation from him was a thorn they’d been trying to pull out since he was thirteen in the back of his first cop car. It’d only been trespassing, and he’d tried to explain he’d only gone into the abandoned factory to escape two bigger kids trying to beat him up. His parents and cops both refused to listen, and Jonathan’s high school life was filled with juvenile punishments and condescending shakes of heads from each adult that he stumbled across. It didn’t help when one of his ‘misdemeanors’ came because he was kissing the son of the officer arresting him. The truth of the matter was, he didn’t fit in the small, close minded-town his parents had deemed their home.

He’d hope that college would help him find where he belonged, but the only thing he’d gotten for his trouble the past year was a nasty bite on his forearm.

“Stupid party.” Turning to his side, Jonathan glanced out at the darkness of his window, catching the hint of the full moon before it was enshrouded by dark clouds. A drop of water that splashed against the glass, another thing he shouldn’t have been able to see with such a dark night. The glow of the nightlight near his door gave enough light for Jonathan to lift the arm in question, scowling at the marred skin. Though he covered the wound with a large band-aid or bandage during the day, he always let it breathe at night, hoping it would heal faster than it was. He hadn’t been sure what had bitten him; the night of the college party in the woods was more of a blur than he wanted to admit. He hadn’t felt right while he stumbled home, bleeding and disoriented from the attack. When he woke up the next day, he’d assumed it had been the alcohol that caused his lack of memory. He couldn’t remember drinking more than one cup, but he was never sure what they really put in the communal punch. Maybe someone had slipped more than alcohol in it, if his brain was so fuzzy on the details of the brutal attack.

Now, weeks later, the only thing that remained was the disturbed skin on his arm. Silently, his eyes trailed over the wound, unsure why the goosebumps rose down his neck when pressing to the skin. It felt like a bruise now, but he’d gotten far worse from his dad. He wiggled his fingers over the arm, convincing himself (again) that he still had perfect mobility in his hand. In fact, despite the nasty look, his arm felt better than ever. His whole body felt alive, Jonathan going for far more runs around the campus after classes than he ever had his first year. The crisp air of fall flowed in his lung with ease, and ever after going for miles, the normal fatigue that he expected never came. The captain of the track team even joked with him about joining in the spring, though Jonathan knew he was far too awkward in social settings to entertain the idea.

“Hot,” he huffed out weakly, finally kicking the boxers off his body. His foot flicked the sweat-filled garment onto the floor to join his shirt and sleep pants, both which had been shed earlier in the night. October wasn’t the warmest of months, but tonight he felt like he was in the middle of summer. His skin was collecting sweat faster than he was used to, lips licking away the salt from his upper lip. Even with the fan on, the air blowing over his skin simply highlighted the sticky feeling of his sheets plastering themselves to the back of his calves and thighs.

He tried to close his eyes again to fall into sleep, which he knew was pointless. Another shuddered breath from his chest was the only noise in the room, though in the distance, he could hear a familiar chime. The town’s tower clock, well over ten miles away, was signaling the midnight hour was approaching. As if in a trance, Jonathan felt lulled by the steady beats, counting each one in his head as they rolled by. The rain had started to pick up, Jonathan’s ears ringing from the intensity of the drops slamming into the house and the booming gongs of the clock. Fingertips of the arm bitten dug into the mattress when a burst of anxiety rushed through him, his heart rate rushing to a level he wasn’t sure it had ever hit before.

The twelfth chime sounded off, and everything changed.

The sudden change was painful, and he gasped out in panic when he rolled off the bed, one hand clutching his chest while the other shredded through the fabric covering his bed.

“Oh, God. I need…” Tears rushed to his eyes when his lips parted in pain, the scream he wanted to release falling short. His lungs seized up without reason, and the gargled noises that managed to push through his throat were inhuman. Drool dribbled from his mouth as his teeth suddenly shifted, rivers of pain crashing through each limb of his body. He tried to push to his feet, but his legs barely held his weight, sending him crashing into the wall next to his window. His hand desperately slammed into the glass to open the window, but the sudden force of his arm busted right through it, punching the entire window from the frame. Blood burst out from his arm, but the pain was nothing compared to the currents of agony pounding through him. Eyes flashed down to his arm, horror filling his mind when seeing the skin twisting in an abnormal angle. The knees that quivered before instantly gave out, and Jonathan fell headfirst out of the broken windowpane.

His body hit the wet grass of his backyard, writing in torturous shakes as each muscle contorted and ripped apart, leaving his brain brimming with agony. Claws where fingernails had been now tried to gain traction in the soggy soil, dragging the changing body out of the glass under the window. He made it a few feet before another wave of pain crashed into him, fur-covered legs trying to curl into his stomach to hide from the onslaught. Wet streaks rolled down Jonathan’s face, the rain and tears both starting to soak into the dark fur that took over any human features he’d once held. His body shrunk, organs feeling compressed and overwhelmed when he rolled to his side and puked. The emptying of his stomach did nothing to comfort him, a tongue too long to call his own retching back from the overpowering taste.

Please, please... was the only thought he could process, but his begging was left unheard. Panic and dread bubbled between shots of anguish, body trembling with each crack and rearrangement of bone in his body. Even with the thunderous commotion of thoughts in his head, all too tangled to fully process, the silence of the back yard was what overwhelmed him. What he envisioned as screams and cries of agony, were nothing more than whimpers and whines from the muzzled snout he now possessed. While his parents slept peacefully in the floor above him, while his neighbors continued to dream without care, he writhed in the mud, desperate for a soothing hand of comfort or words of kindness to end his pain. But as the minutes of change continued on, no relief came in sight.

The pain took hours to fully subside, legs twitching in muscle spasms for one more protest before finally settling under his new skin. The lungs that felt infected with glass eased into a labored breath that was bearable, though not pleasant. The spine that twisted and reshaped managed to stiffen when Jonathan pushed up onto padded feet, holding steady even when his life crashed down around him. The body managed to collect itself far easier than the soul trapped in its hollow grasp. When he opened his mouth, no human words escaped, just the howl of a lone wolf never meant to be created.

And when Jonathan finally, finally, dragged himself into the woods miles from his home, confused and scared with the new form he had, nothing changed.

The human world simply continued to move without him.

#Libahunt #Libahunt drabblez #H2O Delirious #Crimson Drabblez #please enough #BBS #this made my heart hurt #<3 #damn you fluffy #>.<#fluffy-papaya

97 notes · View notes

pink-jindallae · 5 years ago

Text

At the hospital / Part 1

[Nathaniel/Candy] full angst / heavy mention of panic attack Hospital scene from episode 16 completely rewritten. I'm so slooow to write ;-;

Words: 3464 Author note: Before starting this reading, I would like to highlight Candy's mental state of this episode. I personally felt a lack of investment as Nath's girlfriend. If he wasn't her LI, okay, sure. But as her boyfriend I don't agree. She saw him bleeding to death a few hours ago and she just leaves? Amber asking Candy to stay alone with Nath? Um, no? I'm not sorry to say that I have the fucking right to be with my boyfriend, as much as her. As a writer and as Nath stan, I couldn't let it pass. I got so much frustrated that I had to rewrite the entire hospital scene because first; I can. Second; Beemov cannot get me away from my man like that. LET ME STAY. And third: I LOVE the angst. Anyway, I hope you will enjoy the angst nonetheless ;)

Candy P.O.V.

Nathaniel has been awake for over an hour now. A little while ago, Kim and I were interrogated separately by the police about Nath's assault before they got to question him. Kim assured me soon after that she had repeated word for word Nath's version. As for me, I did the same with a robotic voice, too tired mentally and physically to pretend to be fine in front of the policemen. They didn't ask me too much questions, perhaps discerning my torment. Just after the police left, a nurse came to report on Nathaniel's state. We were relieved to hear his wound wasn't too deep and his organs were untouched. However, she also informed us that Nath had a head injury, so they had to keep him under observation until tomorrow to see how his condition is evolving. My face had blanched during her whole speech, but I didn't interrupt, unlike Amber who peppered her with so many queries. She acted like a lion mama, nearly throwing a tantrum in the hallway, thankfully Kim was there to calm her down. The nurse only concluded by saying we could now visit Nathaniel, although not for too long since he was still recovering and probably exhausted by his prior interrogation. To my surprise, Amber requested to stay alone with him for an unknown reason. I initially didn't agree, because even if she is his sister, I'm his freaking girlfriend and there was no fucking way I would leave like that! Not without seeing him safe and sound. Besides, how she asked rubs me the wrong way, like I wasn't that much important. I acknowledge she has a special bond with her brother, still, it wasn't a good reason enough to push me aside. I know she has changed and I don't rightfully hate her anymore, but God, I just wanted to punch her face at that moment. Hopefully she agreed to let me stay in the end, thanks to Kim who interjected in my favor. However, Amber still demanded to see him by herself first and to avoid another outburst in the hospital, I let her do as she pleased despite my own wish to come along. Only because I would be alone with Nath after as she promised not to be too long. When Amber left, Kim kindly offered to stick around with me a little longer, to which I refused. While I'm grateful for her concern, I needed to be by myself for a moment. Moreover, I would have felt bad to monopolize her presence just for my sake, because she too, was tired after such a night. She despised the hospital anyway, so, she went home to rest without insisting. And now I'm on my own in the waiting room for what felt like eternity. I can't remember how long I've been counting the minutes. The hand of the clock is turning, and yet, time seems to have frozen. It ticks with an annoying sound as if to emphasize the surrounding silence of death, reminding me again and again this disastrous evening. That deafening noise is taunting me, resounding a little louder as soon as I lose the thread, just to have the pleasure to grab all my attention while I'm waiting to see Nathaniel. I watch it with a rather confusing obsession despite my annoyance. I hate myself for that, I can't help but check the seconds spinning through the clock face. Because that noisy thing represents the heartbreaking absence of Nath by my side. Even if I know that on the other side of the wall, he's alive... Slumped on my chair, I bring my legs against my chest, my forehead glued to my knees. I need to see him so much ... "Are you all right, Miss?" I raise my head sharply. Another worried middle-aged nurse is looking at me and I can see pity through her clear eyes. What a sorry sight am I. "Y-yes." Great, my voice is shaking. "I ... I'm just waiting to see my boyfriend ..." "Oh ... is it the boy who arrived at the emergency room earlier?" I only nod, unable to speak at the recall of the events. The nurse sits next to me, her clipboard pad resting on her lap. "Your boyfriend is safe now, don't worry." she begins in a benevolent tone that irks me. "His relative is by his side right now, but you can rest for a while." The nurse's compassion touches me deeply, or maybe it's tiredness that speaks for me, because I feel my eyes sting a little bit as I'm about to cry any time soon. "I have to see him first." "This evening must have been very hard for you too, you have the right to rest. I'm sure he won't be angry if you come back later." She still insists. "I can't!" I nearly scream. "I need to see him!" Unable to contain myself anymore, I hunker down, squeezing my arms so hard that a red mark is blemishing my skin. I can't go home. Not now, not like that! Not seeing him drives me crazy! I'm exhausted ... my whole body is sore. "Would you like to call someone? Family, friends?" I shake my head, eyes closed. Her insistence begins to pester me. Why is everyone is completely disregarding my feelings? Amber, the nurse, even Nath. I'm that much insignificant not to have anything to say. My voice, no matter how I yell, is unheard and my opinion not even an option. Amber had already asked me if she could see him first, alone, and I meekly agreed to make her happy. And yet, I had to fight so I wouldn't be sent away, still muffled and saved by someone else. The nurse now pushes me to go home for the sake of resting regardless my desire to stay. And Nath… Damn, he didn't even wanted to see me at the gym. Kim said she called me because he agreed to, but with the way he acted, I doubt that. He was so stubborn, not listening to anything and facing my lack of power, Kim decided to call the ambulance against his will. During the ride to the hospital I have wondered; if she hadn't phoned me, I would have been unaware of Nathaniel's state since brother and sister like to keep secrets as if I wasn't part of their life. As if … I was nothing. "Just leave me. Go away." I coldly mumble, chasing those memories away. The nurse doesn't insist anymore and walk away after reminding me to contact the medical staff if I needed anything. Like hell I would. I feel many eyes on me nonetheless, kept under surveillance from afar. My mental state seems to worry them, but I don't care. All my thoughts are turned to one person. I decided to get up after her departure though, to freshen up a bit, the need to walk and think about something else motivating me to move. Specially to avoid their insistent stares, almost too heavy with judgment. When I see myself in the mirror, I quickly comprehend their dismay. It is anything but glorious ... My hair is disheveled, my eyes are swollen from crying and consequently, my mascara has heavily dripped on my cheeks. My white-like face doesn't really help to improve my condition. I look a fright ... The most impressive thing is my clothes stained with blood – his blood –. No wonder the nurses were concerned. I hurry to make a coarse bun in order to hold my hair in place, then rinse my face, erasing below the neon light all traces of this morbid night. I still look exhausted but at least I'm more presentable. Once I'm satisfied with my reflection, I go back to my seat. Meanwhile Amber has appeared in my line of sight, coming out of the elevator with a sullen expression. My heart skips a beat and I run to join her. "Amber!" She glances up at my panicked face and smiles weakly to reassure me as best she could, although it looks more like a grimace. "I was looking for you. You can go see him." "How is he?" I ask, worried about her peaky look. "The doctors told me he could go home soon. Luckily, he can talk and move despite his head trauma." Upon hearing the news, all the pressure on my shoulders evaporates bit by bit. I'm so relieved he is fine… "Did he ..." The blonde cuts me off, shaking her head in negative. He didn't reveal anything to her either. I sigh, depressed. Of course, he's not the type to vent so easily. Even her twin sister doesn't know everything about him. The few times we spoke indicates that Nathaniel didn't confide to her as much as she believes to. "I'm sorry for earlier…" she suddenly resumes, changing the subject. "… for insisting to see my brother alone. But please understand that I needed to talk to him. Nothing against you." I'm taken off guard by her sudden apologies. I really didn't expect it at all to be honest… "I… It's fine. I guess." I articulate, dumbfounded. She averts her eyes, probably feeling too guilty to look at me directly. "I may have overreacted." "You did. And to tell you the truth, it hurt me." I frankly blurt out. "So honest, as always. I like that about you." She lets out a small laugh and I smile in return. I'm glad she noticed her wrongdoing and asked for my forgiveness. She was as anxious as I was, so, I can understand in a sense. And to be fair, I'd probably request the same in her shoes if she wasn't her relative… "Thank you again for being there for him ... Thank you for everything. You saved his life." She sobs in a weak voice, taking my hands in hers. I lower my eyes at her statement, not sure to deserve gratitude. I didn't do anything. Kim saved Nathaniel while I was watching him, helpless. My conscience planting arrows in my heart keeps me quiet, not knowing what to answer. Amber's hand pulls me out of my thoughts by squeezing mine. She stares without saying anything, her message mute. I only notice now that her green eyes have lost their sparkle, filled with remorse too. "I'm going to his flat to bring some clothes and feed Blanche. I'll be back soon." she informs, gently releasing my hand. "Watch over him, please. He's waiting for you." I just agree in silence, the knot around my neck tightening slightly. I don't waste more time to watch her go and fly to the elevator. And damn the seconds feel like hours in the lift. I've waited so long to see Nath that I tremble like a leaf out of stress. My anxiety is only amplifying, trapped in this metallic box. The walls come off as an oppressive cage, shrinking around me. I feel like I'm suffocating ... It makes my mind runs wild, what I've striven to push back in my mind suddenly arises with brutality. My boyfriend is laying in a hospital bed after an attempted murder. The bloodcurdling realization I could have lost him forever tears me from inside. I remember too well watching him bleed to death. I can still smell the blood, see the light in his eyes weakening and his life being taken away slowly… I struggle in vain to hold back my suffering, but it's far beyond my strength. I can't help but dwell on the events, unable to think of anything but his twisted face of pain, the gaping wound and the pool of blood. It wasn't an accident. Someone tried to end his life. Stop! I must not panic. Do not panic! Nathaniel is fine, Nathaniel is fine ... I repeat these words like a mantra. Focusing on dominating my terror, I close my eyes for a moment and inhale deeply. My breath is shaking, but I keep taking deep breath to calm the frantic beat in my chest. My body is agitated with nervous spasms, I squeeze my hands hard to stop my tremors. Carefully ... slowly ... I'm breathing. At long last the elevator stops and after a soft "ding", slides open. The overwhelming gasp of air at the opening wakes me up from my horrifying trance, my lungs finally accepting some oxygen. After a gulp, I'm resolved to get out and stand right in front his room. I enter with a gentle push on the door which creaks faintly under the pressure of my fingers. What I see behind crushes my heart. Nathaniel seems to have fallen asleep, but his features are drawn, denoting extreme fatigue. His face is still a little pale, but slowly picks some colors up again. His left eye is slightly swollen, as are his knuckles. There was no doubt he tried to defend himself against his aggressors as much as he could. I pinched my lips so as not to break down again, shaken beyond word by his atypical vulnerability. I must be strong. I shed enough tears. At some point, I finally allow myself to approach with catlike stealth to avoid waking him up. My hand smooths his golden hair, brushing aside wet strands on his forehead. Softly … fearing of hurting him more. With the same care, I stroke his damaged hands in hope it would erase the marks of his fight. I wish I could take all of his pain… "You're here…" I jump, startled. Nathaniel is awake. He painfully opens his eyelids to gaze at me. I'd like to answer something, but on the verge of tears, words are strangled in my throat. "I'd have preferred to welcome you in some other way." he continues with a sheepish smile in an effort to relax the atmosphere. Except it provokes the opposite of the desired effect. He looks at me, his eyes filled with grief. His hand frees itself from mine to caress my cheek and I close my eyes to enjoy his touch full of tenderness. I barely notice him wiping a tear that has escaped against my will. And here I promised myself not to cry anymore. Damn it… "I ruined our date again." He feebly murmurs. "Forgive me." I shake my head, eyelids firmly closed. Other tears flood with me powerless to stop it. Nath remains silent, busy to dry all the sad pearls rolling on my skin. "Don't be ridiculous, you idiot ..." I end to whisper with a trembling voice. "We'll have other dates. I just want you to heal quickly." I swallow my tears somehow and finally open my eyes to offer him the best smile I could do. Nevertheless, he only observes me without saying anything, his look indecipherable. His eyes glint with a dark and melancholy glow, almost seeking to penetrate my thoughts. His face seems tortured, preoccupied, a frown on his forehead. A voice in my head hisses that pain is not the main cause. Anxiety, anger, guilt, maybe something else. I'm not sure what I can read. He carries my hand to his lips and kisses it with infinite love, contrasting with his painful expression. Nath, is there something you're not telling me? The rustling sound of sheets catches my attention all of sudden. My veiled eyes immediately fall on Nathaniel who's trying to get up, his face disfigured in pain. "Nath!" With an unsteady step, I try to lie him down but this obstinate man resists. "I just want to sit down, I'm tired of laying." He insists. "Don't be foolish, you have to rest! Imagine if your wound opens again!" I'm unsuccessfully trying to convince him, but he is too adamant and completely deaf to my protests. I shortly give up, helpless in front of his stubbornness, and put his cushion in a way he can lean on it without hurt. It takes him a few minutes to find the right position. "It doesn't hurt too much?" I ask as I sit on the mattress to get closer. "I'm fine ... I've experienced worse." Worse? What can be worse than being stabbed in the abdomen? Could it be related to the scar on his lips? To his father? My face runs out of blood just imagining it. Facing my frightened look, Nath takes my hand again squeezes it more firmly. "No wait! I mean ..." he resumes with difficulty. "... I'll be okay, you don't have to worry about that." "How could you ..." His thumb lays on my lower lip to keep me quiet, fondly brushing it. "I'm fine, okay? That's all you need to think about now." "But you nearly killed yourself, how could you expect me to stay calm after that? Nath, you could have died!" "What happened, happened. And I'm still alive." What the hell! I know he wants to be reassuring but he can't tell me that like that, as if it was something trivial! "Listen to me," He begins but I refuse to hear his nonsense. I drop and shake my head. The situation is so absurd, it makes me crazy! It's a nightmare. Breathing becomes difficult again, I feel like choking once more. Sensing my distress, Nath cups my face and forces me to look at him. "Listen to me!" He gives me time to calm myself before carrying on. I stare back with a look in which an unreasonable dread is reflected. I know I'm overreacting but … "You're afraid." I'm not. I'm terrified. "I understand, I really do. But look, I'm fine." He caresses my cheeks with lots affection and so much care to put me at peace, but I'm still shivering so much. However, my body is less stiff now, soothed by his voice. "I'm fine…" He calmly repeats again, insisting on this point until I stop shuddering. "All I need is my girlfriend by my side. This night has been painful enough for you and for me… We both need to rest. Just let me enjoy your company. Is it too much to ask?" I have to admit he's right. He is indeed fine. He survived and is certainly exhausted by his injury. I was so preoccupied by my own fear I forgot the most important; taking care of him. Ashamed, I lower my eyes. "I'm sorry…" "No don’t be, love." He murmurs, putting his forehead against mine. "I'm the one who should be. You deserve so much better than that." "Shut up." I sob. Our faces are so close, caressed by our breath, yet I feel so far away from him, an unbreakable wall between us. And I know… he is the one building it, pushing me away. Again. "Come." He simply finishes by opening his arms. He wants us to cuddle. "Your wound, it could open ..." I weakly protest, fighting against my own desire to snuggle against him. "My right side is fine." Nath persists. I don't want him to suffer ... My hesitation crumbles a little more when he softly pleads: "I need you in my arms ..." I don't want to start a quarrel, especially in these conditions. I'm too tired anyway. Besides, I'd lie if I said I don't want to be in his arms too ... Short of argument, I breathe: "Promise me to tell me if you're in pain." He simply nods, and I give up. With caution, I go around the right side of the bed where he's not injured. I'm careful not to lean too much upon him, my side propped against his cushion, but my head finds its way to the crook his neck. His right arm slides around my waist and presses me a little more against him despite my reluctance, yet I oppose no resistance. His soothing heartbeat under my palm relaxes me. He is still alive… Being in his arms drains all energies I had left, in other word, almost none. My eyes close when he brushes a warmth kiss full of comfort on the top of my head. I'm just so weak even though I should be the one who supports him. I can't help myself thinking I must do more than complaining and crying. He silences me when I word my thoughts and confesses that being here is more than enough. Actually, it is what he needs the most according to him so, I'm not arguing. After all, a nurse is coming soon to kick me out and I don't want to leave him with a pointless fight. Silence now surrounds us. Not a single word is shared anymore. We are just enjoying each other presence… … as if it would be the last time.

#mcl nathaniel #my candy love #amour sucre #mcl candy #mclul #my candy love university life #amour sucre campus life #Corazon de Melon #nathaniel x candy #nathaniel x lynn #angst #mention of panic attack

85 notes · View notes