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havin-a-wee · 4 years ago

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Stars Align

pairing: harry styles x y/n

warnings: fluff, ig you could consider it angst but its really just mysterious

word count: 2k

hello! i apologize for kind of disappearing, my fic rec account has kind of blown up and ive been super busy with that.

this is my entry for @sweetlygolden 's Harry On Holiday Challenge! i chose strangers in the same city, and the line prompt “That is the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” i honestly already have a part 2 planned out but we'll see how it goes!

“How much longer are you going to stare at that pretending like it’s interesting.”

Her soft voice surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see who had been speaking to him.

For the first time in a while, Harry was able to get away for a little. Of course, he travels a lot for work, but this was the first vacation since he can remember where he was alone, doing whatever he pleases. He chose Italy for this special occasion, because it’s always been one of his favorite places, and he missed the freedom of wandering around the boot shaped country without a care in the world.

The day's adventures had brought him to La Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, which is a museum that he's been wanting to see for quite some time. He started the day off by getting a cappuccino and a crespelle from a wonderful little cafe down the street from his hotel.

Right afterwards he walked to the museum, taking in the sights around him on the 20 minute trek to his destination. Before the woman behind him snatched his attention, he was staring at a painting of an abstract house. The house was only painted in blue, and the artist had used the different shades and tones of the color to create the details in the painting.

He had been staring at it for a good amount of time, which he assumed is what prompted the stranger to talk to him.

It’s his 3rd day on the trip, leaving him 4 more until he has to be back in L.A. for work. He has no plans, no schedules, no job to do. It’s just him and the world. At least, that’s what he assumed it would be. The vacation is supposed to be a solo one, however, he’s currently staring at a stranger that decided to speak to him. And for some reason, he is drawn to her. Compelled to spend time with her after just a simple sentence was spoken between the two of them.

When he fully turns around she jumped, a bit startled by his bright red complexion. “That is the worst sunburn I have ever seen!”

It was true, Harry had managed to get himself a nasty burn on the first day in Italy. He usually tans instead of getting a sunburn, but when you’re used to the dreary weather of the UK, it can be hard to forget how strong the sun is in other places.

So he had laid out on the beach and fell asleep, waking up a few hours later with tomato red skin and a burning sensation covering the exposed skin.

“That’s what happens when y’fall asleep on a beach in Rome,” he chuckled, smiling awkwardly at the woman before him.

She’s beautiful, there is absolutely no denying that. She was wearing a simple spaghetti-strap black dress that cut off right at the knee. There were no designs, no embellishments, just a black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips have a deep red lipstick smeared across them, and he couldn’t help but notice how the color complimented her skin tone. Her simple black pumps completed the outfit, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few of the front strands falling out of the hair tie and framing her face.

“I’d assume so.” Her demeanor is serious, even though there's a smile on her face. She’s…..intimidating?

Harry hasn’t been intimidated by anything since he was a teenager. Once you perform in front of thousands of screaming people, who also happen to idolize you, things don’t tend to phase a person anymore.

But for some reason, her presence caused butterflies to fly around in his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He actually enjoyed the feeling, it reminded him of when everything was normal.

What also reminded him of normality was the fact that she seems to not have the slightest clue of who he is. If she does, she’s sure as hell good at hiding it.

“You’ve been looking at the same painting for 10 minutes, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.” A small laugh escaped her lips, and the noise agitated the fluttering butterflies residing in his tummy. Her voice is mesmerizing, and she sounds like what Harry imagines an angel to sound like. She has an American accent, and it eased his nerves slightly that she was also a tourist.

He turned back to the painting to look at it, but it was also convenient in that she wouldn’t be able to see his undoubtedly flushed cheeks.

“Yeah m’not sure what it is ‘bout it but there’s somethin’ special with this one.”

“That’s Prismi lunari by Fortunato Depero, he was very talented.” Harry spun around once again to face her, shocked at her knowledge of the random artwork.

“You know that off of the top of your head?” He tilts his head and looks at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’s pretty sure there was no label for the painting, and if there was it was way too small for her to see from where she’s standing.

“I know a lot of things.”

The statement was simple, but Harry wondered if her words paired with the smirk on her face are code for something else. “How long have you been here?” Her question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her and smiled. He flicks his wrist and directs his attention to it, reading the Gucci watch adorning his wrist.

“Well I got here at 11, so about 5 hours.” It honestly surprised him when he realized it was 4 o’clock, but he knows how wrapped up he gets in artwork so he must have lost track of time.

“Jesus christ! I can barely stand to walk around a museum for an hour!” She blows out a puff of air, mocking being out of breath. They both laugh at her comment, Harry laughing a bit harder than her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! M’Harry, s’nice to meet you.” He stuck out his ring-clad hand, and her delicate fingers wrapped around his as she shook it.

“Well Harry, wanna get out of here and walk around with someone who knows the city?” She points at herself, and the small smile she gave him earlier transformed into a silly grin.

“Well m’not sure how well an American can know the city, but I’ll bite.” Usually he would never do this. Going off with strangers is never a good idea, especially because of his status. But there’s something about the girl that makes Harry feel safe. They had just met yet he feels like he could trust her with things he hasn’t even told his best friends.

“An American who’s been living here for a year, that is.” His eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued by her new admission. But before he can even open his mouth to speak, she grabs his wrist with her daintily manicured hand and whisks him out of the quiet museum.

The air was humid, quickly drawing beads of sweat from his forehead. He’s also quite baffled at how she was completely unphased. Not a single drop of sweat was dripping on her body, her soft skin untouched like an old porcelain doll, preserved for years in perfect condition.

“I’ll show you around a little, we can go to this wonderful little vintage store I know.” She had turned to face him, her hand moving from his wrist to cup his one hand in both of hers. “Um- at least, if you want to.” For the first time, she was nervous. Although she will never admit it, Harry makes her extremely nervous. Extremely.

When he turned around when they first met, her jump of surprise wasn’t just because of his bright sunburn. In fact, it wasn’t about that at all. It was about how fucking attractive he is. He really looks like one of the statues that was put up in the museum. His sparkling green eyes send a shiver down her spine, and the tattoos peaking through his thin white t-shirt cause a fire to build in her stomach.

Having someone to talk too while he traversed the streets of Rome is a lot more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. He purposefully told all of his friends that he was going to be MIA while on this trip. But the fact that she is a stranger changes it in some way, in a good way.

The cobblestone streets are surprisingly smooth, and they walk next to each other in a comfortable silence for a long amount of time. The silence would only break when she would point out something in their field of vision. At one point, Harry pauses, standing still in the middle of the street with a thinking look on his face. He realizes that he doesn’t know her name, which seems ridiculous to him because they were walking around a foreign country like the best of friends. She turns to him, matching his confused look when they lock eyes. “I just realized I don’t know y’name.”

Instead of reacting like he would expect one to react when asked that question, her pupils dilated and for some reason she appears to be scared. Why would someone be scared when you ask for their name?

‘Maybe she thinks her name is embarrassing’ Harry thought, still looking at her with a confused look, but now it was laced with a bit of suspicion.

He watches her sigh, and her hand went up to her ponytail and pulled the black elastic out, her soft hair cascading down her shoulders. With another sigh she said, “Y/N. My names Y/N.”

“That’s a really beautiful name.”

“Oh! There’s the store!”

He found it odd that she was so eager to switch the subject, but goes along with it nonetheless.

The vintage store is lovely, and Harry was able to find a beautiful ring and necklace set, matching gold roses on both of them. They looked around the shop for about 15 minutes, Harry being the only one to make a purchase.

The sun had set by the time they went outside, which isn’t surprising considering that it was almost dark when they walked into the little shop. They stood, facing each other outside of this small little shop in Rome. Two strangers, who just happened to cross each other's path. Harry knows this won’t last forever, and he also knows that he wants to see her again. In a leap of faith, he pulls the gold necklace out of the small brown bag and looks up at her.

“Here, I got them so we could match.” It was bold, but Harry feels connected to this girl, and he doesn’t know it, but she feels the exact same. The smile she gave him when he handed her the necklace was bright and genuine, the creases next to her eyes proving its authenticity. He motioned for her to turn around, wrapping the necklace around her neck and clasping it while she held up her hair.

“Thank you Harry. This is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your trip Harry.”

It was then that she placed a small, tender peck on his lips, barely lingering for a second before pulling away.

“Wait! Can I get y’number?” Her smile slanted into a smirk, and she pulled a small card and a pen out of her small black clutch. She placed the card up against the brick wall, leaning it against it and scribbling something down on the paper. When she finished writing, she pressed her lips against the card, handing it to Harry.

He looked down at it, expecting to see a series of numbers, but he was met with a simple note, scribbled on the piece of cardstock next to the red lip print she had left.

May the stars align in our favor once again. - Y/N

He looked up frantically, planning to ask her to write her number down as well, but he was met with nothing.

She had disappeared into the night, leaving as quickly as she appeared earlier that day.

#HarryOnHoliday #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot

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lovemars · 2 years ago

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hm. time to psychoanalyze myself i think. cw traumadumping cw long ass post cw oversharing 😭

the srs cws are talk of sex and stuff but in a sad way not a horny way, sa, men on the internet being gross, bad coping mechanisms, etc

like. idk. i was thinking abt this last night and now im thinking abt it more and like. i feel like. the way i appear in headspace and stuff is just. completely based after. OH MY GOD SOFT BOY CAME OUT? um. sorry it just came on shuffle. ANYWAY. 😭. i feel like how i appear and everything is just based off of like our brain trying to be attractive to- well men mostly. other genders nd stuff but mostly men Specifically cis men. and like. literally none of us actively want to have cis (esp cishet) men attracted to us ❤️. but its like, i know Why like i know its cuz one of my roles is a sexual alter and our brain made us appear the way we do in headspace as part of it trying to keep us safe etcetc WHATEVER i dont care 🫶. like. i literally even- like for instance when we were dating our ex i remember trying to like. be attractive to her and make her like me/us even tho like. i was uncomfortable as fuck and like. i did the same with redacted from irl and just didnt set boundaries at all- no thats not true we definitely did set boundaries. i was just bad at enforcing them- i guess cuz i was like. idk completely lost in this mindset of like, not being able to say no and not feeling safe and feeling like it was my only purpose inguess?

and then like- i also feel like. imean i dont really get the love languages thing but if i had to pick one it would definitsly be words of affirmation and like- i feel like. okay 😭. im not a good person by. whoever the fuck uhh. pat the bunny i think? plays in the background. like for years and by for years i mean ever since 4 days after i turned 18. my thing had been like. posting on reddit . in various subreddits that like, Well the men in them are not very nice to me or to women . and like. i feel like that ties back to the words of affirmation thing cuz i was like intentionally seeking out people who would hurt me (<- which also ties into being a persecutor). and i dont do it anymore because months in the getalong shirt with nik made me feel bad abt it 😭 and then i started to realize that i like when people are nice to me actually. and then i was like Huh maybe tjats not super healthy for me probably. (it is not). well and thats the reason im banned (by nik) from reddit and sex with cis people forever.

but like. 😭 SORRY THIS IS SO LONG. writing a damn novel here. ANYWAYYYY. the whole posting images on reddit dot com -> talk to creepy men on reddit dot com -> intense self hatred and shame -> nik fronts and freaks out and deletes everything -> i feel bad -> i do it again next time i feel like making myself feel terrible on purpose for fun Spiral. like. ive spent all this time gojng down that spiral and now its like. bro i jusr want someone to be nice to me. like i spent ages convincing myself that actually i didnt care abt the shit those men were sayinh & that i liked it and now im like. i literally dont. like. i dont wabt someone ive never spoken to who didnt even say hi or ask what im ok with to say like. waves hand. stuff im not repeating just make up something genuinely disgusting and a bit terrifying and ive probably heard it. and now i dont even KNOW like. what i want i guess. idek my sexuality cuz ive never bothered to think abt what i want cuz i was too focused on what people i dont like/am scared of/etc to think abt how i felt. which in retrospect. bad and scared and. etc.

anyway. idk its just dawned on me the other night how much of who i am is wrapped up in how much i want everyone to like me all thw time and also how much i dont like myself. and like im working on it. and if working on it means thinking about drm from minecraft youtube ******* ** ** ***** so be it i guess 😭. idk man if nik can read dr*amnotnap fic and call it coping i can thirstpost abt drm in my head. idk.

ig im just. now that im able to be more normal and rational and stuff im able to see like. damn i was really bad at dealing with my emotions and tried to do that in ways that were not healthy for me or anyone else. and now all my sense of. who i am is wrapped up in that i guess. which sucks. and im working on it . SLOWLY! but im working on it

tldr: damn this guy should probably talk to a therapist abt all this shouldnt he. well thats okay at least hes hot

#neg #u can ignore thris the tldr is im mentally ill

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generallybarzy · 4 years ago

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smile like sunshine vi

Thursday: ~ 9.2k words

previous chapters: i // ii // iii // iv // v

an: writing this was tough on me. I’ve obviously been through a lot of ups and downs while trying to write this, considering it took like 4 months to finish. Continuously losing inspiration and motivation and hitting writer’s block too many times was tough. The chapters keep getting longer and I feel like there are less and less notes everytime. It hurts to see my favorite fic do so poorly, so I've been hesitating to post this. But it’s finally here, and there are only 2 chapters left. Now, let’s see how few notes this gets. Thank you to my beautiful amazing editor/bestie @folkloreflyers I couldn't have done this without you bb 🥰💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

tagging some beautiful people: @sunflowertimothee @deleausvp @dunnwithlyfe @smit41 @softboybarzal @fallinallincurls @matbaerzal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @hockeyhughes11 @folkloreflyers @nazdaddy @shawnsreputation

summary: after everything that happened last night, Mat and Y/N realize they probably need some time apart to regroup with their thoughts and emotions and prevent themselves from pushing the boundaries of their friendship so far that they’d never return to normal. It’s 2019, eleven years after you first befriended him, and things are definitely different this time around...

If there was ever a time when you wanted to slip away into the memory of what you once had with Mathew: an amazing friendship, not overshadowed or blurred by stupid hormones and growing feelings, it was now.

It was almost tragic to think about how you’d lost all that time and could never go back to the days when you were completely carefree and nothing could bring you down. Those hot, summer days with Mat when watermelon juice and sticky, sugary ice pops dripped down your hands, and your faces were burnt in the sun were long gone. You’d never be like that again. No matter how often you dreamt of it, thought of it, and buried yourself in memories of that summer to block out the worries of adult life, you couldn’t get it back.

The sun was going down on your second to last night at the beach, as you sat by Mat in the sand, giggling as the water lapped at your toes and digging up handfuls of the tiny coquina clams burrowing in the sand- not that you knew what they were called, but did it matter? Your parents sat further back onshore, talking around a fire and watching the younger children, and you and Mat, like always, were left to entertain yourselves. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. No, you loved spending time with him.

You didn’t realize that your time with Mat was coming to an end. You weren’t sure what day of the week it was, where you were, or when you were leaving, but that didn’t matter. Not then.

“Are you having fun with Mat?” Your mom had asked you earlier in the day.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend!”

“Well,” Your mom laughed. “Why don’t you go have some more fun with him. Cherish your time, we won't be here forever.”

You didn't quite understand the weight of her words, but cherish him, you did. The two of you were attached at the hip, to both your parent's amusement, and after only a week of friendship now, your parents could hardly separate you two.

“Ugh, younger siblings are so annoying." You groaned in agreement to Mat's statement and fell back in the sand when you looked back and saw your baby siblings sucking up all your parents’ attention.

"Yeah, 'cause they're smaller and cuter than us."

"No, that's not true!” Mat shook his head, dark hair flopping around in the breeze, hazel eyes wide. “You're still pretty cute."

"Ewwww, Mat!"

"So am I, my nonna told me!" You laughed at him. Only a week into knowing each other and he could already make you laugh better than any of your friends at school. "So that's not it."

"Well, they always have all the attention. I'm so bored and lonely sometimes."

"Nuh-uh, you have me. I'm always here to hang out!" He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, his small, sand-covered arms, and neither of you noticed both of your parents watching from the campfire. As wise as they were, they knew that if you had been a few years older, this would’ve been too much for them to handle. And little did you and Mat know, at only ten and eleven years old, but you were about to be separated for eleven years.

“Friends forever?”

“Forever! I’ll always be here!”

“Promise?” You stuck out your pinky, and Mat linked it happily with his own, smiling that gleaming smile.

“Promise.”

You had fucked up something amazing.

You woke up early with a pounding headache right as the sun began to beam in through your window, hitting your face in the worst possible way. You’d never so hated the sound of the ocean, but right now, it was just… too much. Too loud. For the first time since you had arrived at the beach, you didn’t wake up smiling and excited to be here, but instead dizzy and confused, questioning what had happened last night, and filled with dread at the thought of having to face the day. And, when you realized what you’d done in your drunken stupor, regret immediately began gnawing away at your mind.

You had fucked up bad.

You buried your face under your pillows to try and drown out the pounding noises in your ears as the image of yourself flooded to your brain, absolutely wasted and stumbling, pushing your body into his, pushing your mouth onto Mat’s and kissing him. It was drunken, messy, and definitely not the way you'd imagined many, many times, your first kiss with him to be. It wasn't magical and beautiful and gentle and sweet, but drunk and sloppy and one-sided. Unreciprocated. You couldn't stop thinking about his reaction. He hadn’t kissed you back, his hands didn’t cup your face gently and pull you flush against his warm body the way you imagined, but instead pushed you away and held you between his arms and looked at you. He hadn’t even smiled or laughed and brushed it off afterward. He must have been disgusted with your actions, he must have wanted to yell at you, ask “What are you doing?” but understood that you were drunk and settled for pushing you away. He'd confront you today, tell you that he couldn't look at you the same way after what happened, tell you that he no longer wanted to be friends. That when you’d get back to New York, you would never speak to each other again.

Fuck.

“(YN)!” The pounding on your door made you cringe and groan. Well, it might not have been pounding, but it certainly sounded like it, as your head throbbed in agitation. “Wake up honey!”

You groaned and rolled over in bed.

She cracked the door open as quietly as possible, showing a little bit of sympathy, which you were thankful for. “Hungover?” Your groan was enough of a response for her. “You’re not gonna get better lying in here, come out.” When you still didn’t answer, she continued. “I’ll be louder next time I have to come in to get you.” And then she left you to drag yourself out of your lethargic state.

Well, fuck, you thought as you cast a glance out the window where the sun was rising over the ocean, might as well get up and face the day, no point in hiding. You needed to get some fresh air, maybe some alone time on the beach before Mat gets up. You needed to talk to someone about what happened, you couldn’t keep this to yourself, but who would you tell? Not your mom, no one in your family actually. Sure, you were close, but you weren’t gonna tell them about your drunken mistake- how you kissed your best friend. Best friend. Your best friend- all the way back in New York City, who always helped get you out there, was the reason you ever reconnected with Mat in the first place, and would definitely be your maid of honor in the future- would definitely want to know about your kiss with Mat Barzal.

“Amy…”

You reached over to the bedside table for your phone and the first thing you noticed, after pressing the power button, was an unread text from none other than Mat Barzal, sent at 1:38 am, probably when you got home last night:

Maty: Hope you don’t feel too bad when you wake up.

It was strange, it was unlike him to leave such a message. Yeah, he always checked in and texted you saying he hopes you’re feeling good, but there was no “sleep tight” or anything funny or cute and not even a smiley emoji like usual. Well, in his defense, you had just kissed him. Of course, he’d feel weird around you.

You sent a quick text to Amy, who you hadn’t spoken to since the beginning of the trip now, and who must have been dying to know anything that happened between you and Mat. She would probably be happy you kissed him, bless her heart, she was in love with your friendship with Mat and the story of how you came to meet, but you needed someone to listen seriously to your problem and help you.

It’d be at least another hour until Mat gets up, you guessed, so, with much hesitation, you dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom where you steadied yourself on the sink as your head spun, washed your face, and caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, running a hand through your hair to smooth it down before opening your door to face the day.

The first thing you noticed, even in your state, was the smell of coffee and breakfast from the kitchen. Usually, you loved that scent, but today it made you want to puke, and as you sat down at the island in the kitchen, you dropped your head into your arms and groaned.

“Rough night?”

“Pretty bad.”

The sound of a water bottle being set down in front of you was much louder than it should’ve been. “Drink, it’ll make you feel better.” You took a sip of water and laid down on your arms again, going back to suffering in silence and wracking your head over trying to figure out any possible way out of this sticky situation. “What else is wrong?” You looked up to where your mom was making knowing eyes in your direction. You were close to your mom, sure, you thought you had a pretty good relationship with her, but you were positive you didn’t want to tell her what you had done last night. At least, not now. You knew the news would eventually get to your dad, and you couldn’t imagine what would happen if he found out.

Hopefully staying pretty ambiguous would save you. “I think Mat’s mad at me.”

“I doubt it. The boy adores you.” You wanted to tell her no, that’s gross, you’re only friends, but something made you stop. Mat did adore you. He was always there for you, he was the greatest friend ever, and how do you repay him? By kissing him and screwing up both of your feelings? “What makes you think he’s mad?”

“I think I did something stupid last night. Said something dumb when I was drunk. And he sent me a text before bed last night that didn't sound like how he usually does.”

“Well, you won’t know until you talk to him. It won’t be any good to ignore him for the rest of the trip” Fuck, why did her advice have to be good words of wisdom?

A door rattled open from down the hall and there was Mat, rubbing his face, his hair falling into his eyes, as he crossed the hallway into the bathroom. He cast a glance to the kitchen, locking eyes with you for half a second before he was gone.

You knew he’d be getting up now, so, grabbing your water bottle and phone, you made your way to the back door to avoid any alone time with him. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.” And you headed out the back door and down onto the beach.

Amy had texted you back by now, telling you to call her right away, and you took the moment to reflect, walking down to the water’s edge and just looking out. The early morning heat was cooling down, the sun had barely risen and already dark clouds were rolling in from the horizon, the rain was coming, maybe even a storm in the next hour or so. Sure, you may have made your friendship awkward, but for now, you’re still friends. At least until he comes out to confront you. So until then, you were gonna be proud. You had kissed him. His lips were just as soft and nice as you expected them to be, and his face pressed against yours was something you could get used to. Unfortunately, that scenario was unlikely.

Your heart raced when you started connecting the video call, and you couldn’t help a smile from spreading over your face for the first time all morning. Yesterday, besides the mistake you’d made, was easily one of the best days of your life. Mat took you out to the pier because he remembered you loved it when you were younger, he remembered he promised to teach you to skate, he even remembered your favorite ice cream flavor. And, despite how much you regretted kissing him, you had kissed him. You had kissed Mat. God, Amy is gonna be fucking ecstatic for you.

“Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Ames, I’m sorry for not calling sooner-”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed, always a welcome sound, and you knew she wasn’t upset. “You’re on vacation with Mat fucking Barzal. But now that I have you for a few minutes, girl, spill. All. The. Details. Now.”

“Yeah,” You laughed at her words. All the details? “He took me out to the pier yesterday for my birthday. We roller-skated together and held hands.”

“Oh my god, seriously? That’s so fucking cute!” You winced at the way she shrieked in joy for you, your head still pounding as you tried to overcome the hangover. Amy immediately noticed your change and lowered her voice. “Girl, are you hungover?”

“You tell me. I’m twenty-one now, aren’t I?” Before she could start talking again, you continued, figuring it would be easier to just get all your words out there and over with. Rip off the bandaid. “Actually, I did something really bad last night. When I was drunk.”

“Oh shit. Spill!”

“I…” You couldn’t help the small smile on your face. As much as you hated the realistic part of this, you were still overjoyed it had happened. You shook your head and pushed on. “I kissed Mat.”

It was almost comical how your friend’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. It almost made you laugh, it had a little smile pulling at your face. Holy shit, it was still sinking in that you’d kissed Mat. “Oh… my god. You kissed Mat. You kissed Mat Barzal. How was it?”

“Well, messy. I was drunk, he didn’t kiss back at all. But focus on the realistic part, Ames. I made it awkward.”

“Oooh…”

“How are we gonna be friends after this? He’s gonna hate me, he’s gonna wanna leave, he’s never gonna want to talk to me again. He must think I’m so dumb-”

“Babe, listen, he doesn’t think any of that. He’s head over heels for you. If not in love, then in platonic love at least.”

“Now you’re sounding like my mom.”

“I hate to say it, but I actually agree with her then.” You sighed. As much as you wanted to listen to them, maybe the realistic side of your brain was just too powerful. “Mat has done stupid things around you when he was drunk. Remember the karaoke night? He was so fucking embarrassed in the morning.”

“Yeah, but he never kissed me.” He never kissed you, not once. Not even when you desperately wanted him to, when he was drunk or Christmas Eve, or New Years’, or his birthday, not even when you practically created chances to get close to him, not even when you kissed him. No matter how much you wanted it, life isn’t a love song. “Look, things don’t just work out like in romance novels. Some things don’t get to last beyond one summer. Sometimes this shit just doesn’t happen. Sometimes it’s just a feeling.”

“It’s only a feeling ‘til you make it more.”

“Shut uuuup. He hasn’t spoken to me since then. He’s obviously upset.”

“Have you tried to talk with him?”

“I mean…”

“So you haven’t. C’mon, you gotta at least ask him about it.”

“Okay, but if I ask him how he feels he might say he doesn’t want to be friends. If I avoid him completely, he can’t break off the friendship, right?” Before she could respond, you rambled on, maybe to her, maybe just to yourself. Sometimes it’s good to just talk yourself out of something. “We’ve become such good friends in the last year and I really don’t want to lose him because of something stupid that I did while drunk. I feel like I messed everything up.”

“Babe, babe. You didn’t mess anything up.” Ames smiled at you over the phone as thunder rumbled in the distance. “This isn’t gonna drive him away, okay? He’s in too deep already. Trust me.”

“Alright, we’ll see.”

And you would see. But now, you had to go to the porch, already feeling raindrops drip from the looming clouds above. The storm was rolling in. And it was coming fast.

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

Even before Mat’s eyes opened that morning, his mind was racing.

He rolled onto his side in bed, eyeing the pillow he had been hugging against him all night. It was as if he was a child who needed a teddy bear to fall asleep, and he hated how vulnerable you made him feel. But rather, you were his teddy bear and after that night in the motel, he couldn’t sleep without some sort of faux version of you that would never compare. Not to your warmth, your softness, your heartbeat against his chest, the soft sighs of breath against his neck. You had messed him up bad. You had kissed him, and it’s unnecessary to think it needs explaining why he was so confused. “I had a dream about you last night. We were really goin’ at it. You were really good, like, really good.” What had you meant by it? Was it just a dumb mistake? Or is what they say true: “Drunk words are sober thoughts”? The moment your lips touched his last night, he was flooded with serotonin. It was… well, maybe not perfect, but more than he could ever hope for. More than he thought he would ever get.

He wanted it so bad, he wanted it for months now, but he wanted it sober. He wanted you to know what you were doing. He wanted you to mean it. He didn’t want it like last night.

He pushed himself up, hearing the muffled conversation from the kitchen. He knew it was you and your mom, and, though he couldn’t hear any clear words, he couldn’t help but realize that the conversation had to be about him, and for a moment he was strangely self-conscious. It was an unfamiliar feeling for him, but he was embarrassed, even ashamed he had let anything happen last night.

He shouldn’t have let you get so drunk.

The moment he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the conversation came to an abrupt stop. He glanced up into the kitchen, where he immediately caught your gaze, noting how much of a wreck you were this morning. He couldn’t help the way he rushed into the bathroom before you could say anything.

He heard you say something about “fresh air” and then the back door opened and closed, he finished up his morning routine and rushed back into his room. He’d barely even sat back down in bed when there was a pounding on his bedroom door that was a lot less than friendly.

“Mathew!”

Your dad was gonna fucking kill him.

It was safe to say he’d never been more afraid as he jumped to his feet and stepped over to the door, debating on pulling out his phone to send a final “Goodbye, I love you” texts to you, his friends, and family. But there didn’t seem to be any time for that, as the pounding on his door increased. Sucking up a deep breath, he opened it and was greeted by the face of your father with crossed arms and a scowl. He could only choke out a terrified “Yes, sir?”, sounding like a pathetic teen boy caught in a girl’s room.

“(Y/N)”s upset.”

"I-"

"I don't know why that is, but something tells me you have something to do with it." Mat went silent, trying to figure out what he could say. You were upset? Were you upset with yourself, or with him? He had stopped your kiss, brought you home, got you water, and tucked you into your bed, what had he done wrong? “She thinks you’re angry at her.”

“Why would I be-?”

“Mathew.” The boy closed his mouth when your father put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him over towards the bed. “Sit.” Mat nodded quickly and sat on the edge of the bed, flattening his hands on his thighs awkwardly and waiting for the lecture to start. “Listen, I don’t know what’s happening between the two of you, but I can see how much you mean to her. I know I shouldn’t be too hard on you, but I just need to make sure you’re going to treat her right.” Mat couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face momentarily. He was in the middle of opening his mouth to say thank you when your father rambled on, eyes narrowed, examining the boy in front of him. “(Y/N) has been hurt a lot in the past, and I’ve tried to help. It’s not my place to mess with her love life anymore. She’s not a baby. But the least I can do is make this right. I still remember what you said on our first day here. You like my daughter?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I really do. A lot.”

“Good. So then you didn’t mean to hurt her?”

Mat’s head shook frantically, wracking his brain for what he might’ve done. “Absolutely not. I don’t know why she is, I don’t think I did anything wrong.”

“I’ve seen her hurt so many times, and I’m gonna trust that you’ll treat her right. Now, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, and I’m not going to ask. That’s between you two. But she thinks you’re angry, you’re obviously not, and you need to fix it.”

“I know, I promise I will. I’ll make her so happy, I swear to God, I promise you.”

The older man continued to look at his daughter’s friend for a few long, tense seconds, but Mat’s eyes gave everything away with no hesitation. His feelings were genuine, he truly, truly cared. He wasn’t lying. Slowly, he nodded, and Mat’s face lifted in a cautious smile. Was this… approval? Was this your father’s blessing? Your father slapped his hand on Mat’s back. “There’s something else I want to show you. C’mon, Mat.”

-----------

You sat alone on the porch with your little pile of shells, watching the rain pour down beyond the porch, watching the waves continue through the storm, always pushing and pulling despite the circumstances. And as you threaded shell after shell onto your little braided bracelet, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

It was the summer of 2015, you were sitting on the passenger side of his dad’s car, the wind in your hair and OMI's 'Cheerleader' playing on the radio. You had just turned 17 and were trying to live your best life on the coast with your new friends, forgetting about any of your responsibilities and just chilling for this trip. You might have been getting involved in the wrong crowd, but you couldn’t care less. You had your friends, you had your newfound teenage freedom, and, most importantly, you had him.

When you first met him, at the beginning of the summer, he was new to your group of friends. But he immediately seemed to take a liking to you.

“You’re different.” He would whisper in your ear as you sat around the campfire with your friends before breaking away from the group to go make out by the cliffs. “There’s just something about you.” He would say as his hands glided over your swimsuit under the water, hidden from your other friends eyes. He knew just the right words to say to have you sinking into him, giving in, And you were stupid to follow him.

In the back of your head, this party was a stupid idea, but it was summer, you were young, he was hot, you had to live your life. What was the worst that could happen?

Kyle was behind the wheel of his dad’s car- maybe he had taken it without his permission, maybe not, who knows?- his beachy blonde waves blowing in the breeze and his blue eyes sparkling behind dark sunglasses. His hand was on your thigh, he was always touching you in some way, but what you didn’t know was that you weren’t his only girl for the summer. He wasn’t trying to hide it, all the signs were there, but you were too carefree to notice.

The car came to a stop and you both jumped out, locking arms around each other before running over to the steamy, crowded party atmosphere.

Really, what was the worst that could happen?

You were sitting there lamenting over your past, nursing a cup of coffee and staring out into the thunder and rain, fidgeting with the object closed in your fist when the door opened down the porch. And when you looked up, of course, you were met by the man himself, wearing a lightweight gray hoodie, the hood pulled up over his dark waves of hair. “Hey Y/N.”

“Mat.”

There was a moment of silence, perhaps for your damaged friendship or perhaps for the growing feelings that neither of you believed were reciprocated, as you both stayed in place, not knowing what to do or say to the right things to make it better. You let the silence, the tension settle uncomfortably between the two of you as the rain pounded as heavily as your hearts. Mat stayed in place where he was standing at the doorway, not wanting to come any closer. Whether it was because he was upset and grossed out or something else, you couldn’t tell, but you needed the silence to end. “Mat, I’m so sorry about last night. I didn’t mean- I was just, I was drunk and I couldn’t think straight-”

“Hey, hey. No big deal.”

“No, it was so uncalled for, I-”

“Hey, (Y/N), I’ve had people kiss me while drunk before.” He gave you a reassuring smile, but something was missing. Something genuine. That sparkle was missing from his eye and the sunshine was missing from his smile.. Something had definitely changed. Something definitely wouldn’t go back to normal. “Seriously. It’s nothing.” He swore. Cross his heart. Something was definitely wrong, but you weren’t going to bring it up. If he was alright with moving past this, so were you. “You don’t have to feel bad at all.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Friends?” He stuck out his pinky for you.

You smiled at the gesture that threw you back to your childhood and accepted it happily, despite the twinge of guilt and fear in your chest. “Yeah, friends.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Mat smiled, taking a seat next to you, pretending everything was normal. “I like being friends with you.” He was shouting at himself in his head, this is so fake, so forced. But he would rather force the comfort than not have you in his life at all. And then the silence was back.

The silence was painful, filled with unspoken words- words you could never say aloud- and both of you knew. You weren’t sure if the rain was picking up or it had just become so overwhelming between the two of you that you were hyper fixating on the patter patter patter of raindrops against the porch roof. Friends. Friends. If this is what it's like to be Mat's friend, you could only wonder what it would be like to have him as your own, to be his, to hug him and kiss him and protect him and have him do the same to you.

“I, uhhh.” You glanced over to see Mat’s eyes already dead set on you, and you wondered if he had been staring the whole time. You were almost shy as you opened your fist to him. “I finished it.”

“Woah.”

"Yeah, you like it?"

“I love it.” Mat took the bracelet with delicate fingers, as if afraid he was going to break it, and slid it onto his wrist gently. A perfect fit. "It's amazing. You're really talented. Seriously. " His eyes were unbelievably soft as he gazed at the pretty shells you had worked so hard to braid together for him. All for him, from you. “I’ll never take it off.”

"Oh, never?"

"I'm dead serious."

Your heart throbbed in your chest. The idea of him wearing this bracelet you had worked so hard on, even when plagued by the thought that maybe he wouldn't want to be friends at all anymore, just had you so overwhelmed. The idea of him wearing something you made for him, something so personal, as if it was there to constantly remind him of this summer, of you. Like it was a cute inside joke no one else would ever understand, made your heart ache. It was as if you were claiming him, as if he was claiming you as one of his best friends, one of the few people that got a glimpse into his private life. You were special.

“I’m serious.” He repeated. “Honest. I love it.”

“Thank you, Mat.”

His arm fell heavily but gently across your shoulders as he tucked you closer into his body, and something about the weight of it against you was comforting, a reminder that he was still there no matter what and he would always be there no matter what. Mat was resilient, and no matter how much you wanted to push him away, he was here. He was your friend. Forever, and through anything.

"Hey," Mat broke the silence. "I have something for you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Consider it a late birthday gift."

"Mat, you've already gotten me so much-"

"Ah, ah. Your dad actually found these. I'm just presenting them." Before you had a chance to ask or even wonder what it could be, Mat was pulling some flimsy rectangles from his hoodie pocket.

"Are these...?"

"From that summer." Mat finished with a smile, letting you take them from his hands.

"No way."

There in your hands were photographs your parents took of you and Mat, ten and eleven years old. The two of you were standing close, Mat’s arm around your shoulders and squeezing you into his hug, both of your faces lit up with wide smiles. You were so close that summer and you weren’t sure how your parents dealt with the two of you. That picture captured a moment of childish joy and innocence- grinning brightly in mid laughter as you built your final sandcastle of the summer together. LIttle did you know, back then, but the next morning, you’d be leaving, leaving your summer-long friendship behind.

“Look at us.” Mat’s voice was tender, gentle as he leaned in closer and you fingered through the pictures. “I can’t believe we were so small.”

“I can’t believe you still smile the same, Maty.”

He laughed at the nickname that threw him back to that first summer. He quieted down for a few moments as you flipped through the rest of the pictures, his fingers drumming softly on your arm. “I still can’t believe we found each other.”

“I know.”

You could hear your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage as Mat leaned in closer to look at the pictures with you. Your breath hitched in your throat and you stopped suddenly as one picture caught your attention- the family picture taken that year, with both your family and the Barzals posing together as friends. But what really stuck out to you was the way Mat’s face was pressed up against your cheek, in the most innocent, childish kiss you’ve ever seen.

“Wow, look at that.” Mat chuckled a bit through his words, his eyes soft behind you. He didn’t remember kissing you at eleven years old, but seeing that picture brought sparks to his veins and had memories flooding back to his mind. It was you. You hadn’t just been his first crush, but his first kiss as well. “We’ve come pretty far, eh?” Your silence was almost painful to him, and he couldn’t help the way his face fell. Wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say, oh god oh god oh god.

“Yeah, we have.”

He smiled again as your voice filled his ears.

“Do you remember that place, Mat?” His eyes followed your finger as you traced the rocky cliffs in the background of the photo. Oh, did he remember. The little hidden beach, surrounded on three sides by rocky cliffs and sandy dunes and the little ocean inlet shallow and warm and perfect for swimming in, was a beautiful place that immediately brought back memories. You had first found that place on a family walk, and Mat had dared you to jump off the cliffs into the water with him. Of course you didn’t end up jumping, as neither of your parents let you out of their sight.

“It’s our little hideaway.”

“Yeah.” You sat in silence for a moment, in awe that you had such a private little place with him, and noticed how the rain was slowing down. “When it stops raining, do you want to walk there tonight?”

“Absolutely. As much as I love your family, I’ve been dying to spend some time with my girl again.”

My girl. My girl. My girl. Too much?

But the smile on your face reassured him. “I wanna spend more time with you too, Mat.” You threw your arm around his shoulders in an act you thought was sweet, but regretted it and drew back your arm as soon as he let out a sharp hiss. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing.”

“You’re sunburnt, aren’t you?”

“No, no, it’s not bad.”

“Mat, I told you you’d get burnt!” He was quiet, red faced, and you weren’t sure if all the red was from the burn or embarrassment. “Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mathew!”

“I promise.” But you stood up, always just as stubborn as him, photographs in hand, and held your hand out to him. He looked up at you, amused. Oh what you did to him.

“Come on. We’ll fix you up, dummy.”

Mat laughed and shook his head before giving in, his palm sliding into yours and following you obediently back into the house.

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

The rainclouds had finally cleared, though it was too late in the day to get any sunlight in, and instead the vast blanket of stars were already beginning to twinkle overhead when you and Mathew headed out after the family dinner.

“Mat, look at all the stars tonight!”

“You still love them as much as always, yeah?”

“Of course!”

Mat watched you, adoration evident in his eyes, as you gazed up at the sky in awe. He had to agree. There weren’t stars like this in the city, not even in his hometown. This little oceanfront town didn’t produce enough light to block out the beautiful heavens above. But, his eyes were still fixated on you, on the wonder in your eyes and the way you were so soft and amazing in everything you do. The moon could be falling, for all he cared, there could be a literal alien spaceship in front of them, but all he could see was you. “Beautiful.”

“They look best after it storms, I think.”

“Yeah?” Mat could do nothing but nod along, too lost in his own thoughts to find words to say. He hoped he didn’t seem too boring, but walking there, hand in hand with you and feet in the warm sand, his mind couldn’t help but wander. What if you loved me, (Y/N)?

“I think I wanna be a constellation when I die.”

“That’s-” Mat laughed a bit louder than he meant to at your sudden confession, and stumbled to pull himself back together. “That’s a little grim to talk about, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just think stars are so pretty, and I’d just love to be twinkling up there, looking down on people. Plus, I’m more of a night person anyway.” You smiled, and Mat’s heart fluttered in his chest. “What about you? If you were reincarnated as something? Maybe… ice? So you could live and die with hockey like you do right now?”

Mat didn’t even need to think for a second, he knew his answer immediately. Stars, stars, I’d lie in the stars with you, spend all eternity by your side. I’d drop hockey, all the wins and the trophies and the attention. I’d drop it all for you. “Yeah, that’d be pretty cool.”

You walked, hand in hand, down the length of the beach, until you could no longer look back and see your house. Until houses no longer speckled the shore, and instead it was just you, Mat, the ocean and the stars, in your own little world. The shore rose beside you, and after walking around a little bend, you were suddenly hidden away in a little sandy inlet, rocky cliffs surrounding you on three sides, and the ocean, gentle and lapping on the other.

“Here it is.”

“Looks the same as when we were young.” Your hand slipped out of his, just for a moment, to pull out your phone. “Smile, Mat.” His face lit up, not in one of the dazzling smiles you remember and loved so much, but a softer, gentler little smirk.

“Before and after pic, huh?”

“Yeah.”

For a few moments, his eyes gleamed in mischief, and you should’ve known what was coming.

“You know what? You still never jumped off the dock at the fishing spot with me. But I can think of something that would be even more fun.” You were about to ask what, but the smirk on his face as he glanced towards the cliffs and raised a hand to motion towards it should’ve told you that nothing innocent was coming. “Remember that dare?”

“Oh my god.” You laughed at the excited look on his face.

“Let’s jump off that rock.”

“Are you the bad influence my parents always warned me about? Who asks if I’ll jump off a bridge with them?”

He laughed, loud and boisterous and bouncing around the sandy dunes and cliffs that hid you away from the rest of the world. “Maybe I am.” And then he stretched his arms above his head and tossed his shirt to the sand, the muscles of his now bare chest and shoulders shining in the pale moonlight, watching with a giddy smile as you looked him over with an incredulous laugh. He took a few strides back towards the rocks, giving you an enticing smirk and luring you out to him like a siren with his song. “So? You coming in or what?” You should’ve turned back right there; you should’ve recognized the signs and listened to your head rather than your heart, your hormones, and turned back to shore and ran, left him here alone instead of stepping over this boundary- scratch that, fucking barrelling through this boundary like it was a race to finish- but you didn’t. You stayed. Worse yet, you stepped towards him, foolishly, blinded by that goddamn stupid smile.

No, no, you really shouldn’t. But you were so fucked for him, for that smile, for that cocky little “gotcha” laugh that he always did when you followed him so blindly, without any hesitation. You were so in love. Fuck it.

“Unfortunately, Maty, I’d follow you anywhere.”

There was a rocky path leading from the sand up the side of the cliff, a natural staircase, or so it had seemed when you were younger and more imaginative. Mat grabbed your hand to help you up, his palm big and heavy against your own, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you used to make it up here as children.

At the top, your eyes met the most beautiful sight, and, for once, it wasn’t just the man standing next to you. The moon had risen over the ocean, casting its cool glow across miles and miles of water. The water was dark and blue and lapping gently at the pool below you, and the air was still warm, though the rocks beneath your feet were finally cooling off. You both watched in silence for a few moments, taking in all the beauty of the scene before you and forgetting all about his hand in yours.

“It’s certainly a lot smaller than I remember.” It was true, the rock definitely wasn’t as high as you pictured it to be. It was a high cliff, sure, but standing atop it was much less intimidating than facing your feelings for Mat.

“Yeah, well, you were a lot smaller eleven years ago too.”

He snickered, his hand squeezing yours, perhaps subconsciously, or maybe in realization, he’d still been holding it. But he still didn’t let go, and neither did you. His face was warm, not that you’d ever notice, not in the dark. “Well, you’re about the same size.”

“Mat! Not true!”

“Yeah, it is.” He pulled you against his side like he always did in a little half-hug and laughed that beautiful laugh of his. After a few more moments of smiling silence, Mat hummed in thought. “Ya know what? I know what would make this jump a lot more fun.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Skinny dipping.”

Your heart almost stopped when the words passed his lips. You hesitated to respond, laughing a little bit. “No, you’re not serious.”

“Yeah, I mean, no one can see us out here. There are no houses nearby. Only us.” It was tempting, so, so tempting, and Mat could tell you were right on the edge of saying yes. You were. “Listen, I’ll stay far away from you the whole time and I won’t even look at you, I promise. But we’re leaving soon, we'll probably never get another chance at this exact spot, and we’re twenty-one, twenty-two, let’s do something reckless. Let’s be stupid together. Yeah?”

You bit your lip, and Mat would never admit to you how much you turned him on at that moment alone, but he stored that image away for later tonight. You were considering it, but both you and Mat already knew you had made up your mind long ago.

“Sure.”

“Yeah?”

You laughed, the excitement of doing something so scandalous and dangerous and intimate with him finally settling in. Mat smiled back at you, you both laughed and looked at each other with complete reckless abandon. There was nothing else to lose after this. Easily every shred of friendship would be gone. You couldn’t be just friends anymore. “Let’s be reckless.”

“Let’s go, baby!”

“You first, though.” You stepped away from him and motioned towards his shorts, your heart pounding and cheeks hot. The smile on his face should’ve warned you that he wasn’t playing around here, but for some reason, you were still shocked at what he did next.

“Alright, fine.” You could feel a slickness between your thighs as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of his shorts and smirked as he shimmied them down, making a great show of swaying his hips and biting his lip, trying and succeeding to be as sexy as possible. And though you jokingly laughed and pleaded for him to stop, the dull ache in your core only worsened when you caught just a glimpse of what lay beneath the fabric, at the end of that V shape in his hips. Your eyes shot up to the sky, your face red hot and shy when he lifted his swim trunks as proof and flung them towards your feet.

“Ew, Mat!”

“Come on, your turn!” Your heart pounded and you couldn’t help the wave of self-consciousness. But Mat’s smile was addictive, and he made you so comfortable, comfortable enough to have you pulling Mat's hoodie over your head, letting it fall by your ankles and leaving you in your bikini.

“Turn around, Mat.”

He raised his hands in surrender and smiled as he turned, and you couldn’t help but glance- for just one second- down at his toned thighs and ass. Wow…. “I know you’re staring, y/n/n.”

“Wha- no!”

“I don’t mind, babe. Look wherever you want. I'm all yours.” And his body shook with laughter as you undid the string of your top and slipped out of your bottoms and tossed the fabric towards his feet. You could see him do a double-take at the sight, as if he didn't believe you were serious about skinny dipping, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh, to busy marveling at his physique, the dark swoop of hair he kept running his hand through- a nervous habit you’d recognized as far back as 2008- the muscles of his back and shoulders, the dip at the small of his back, his toned ass, his thighs... He wasn’t even looking at you, but there was something about how you were so bare, so vulnerable, so close to him. Just the idea of his body and yours being so close and so primal, so exposed, and about to take this leap… something was stirring up a fire, a fire you'd put out later. Your fingers slipped down between your thighs momentarily, marveling at how hot Mat made you before they wiped hastily on your thigh and you stored those memories away for later that night. Your other hand curled into Mat’s again, and his fingers squeezed around yours at the contact, as if it was the most natural thing to do. The only thing against his body, besides your own skin, was the bracelet you had put all your love and energy into, all for him, and now you were standing on the edge, taking a final breath. About to jump. About to fall with him as hard as you’d already fallen for him.

“You ready, Maty?”

“I think I should be asking you, pretty girl.”

You hesitated, still a little nervous, trying to build up that excitement. “Countdown?”

“Course. After three. Say it with me?”

“Okay." Your thumb smoothed over his hand, tightening your grip. "Three.”

“Two.” He squeezed back.

“One.”

Mat gave a final, devilish smirk as he whispered “Jump.” and, with one of his iconic howls, your feet were off the ground.

You felt so free, so vulnerable, so exposed, falling naked through the cool air, hands clammy and grasped against each other, shrieking in excitement and adventure. You had bared yourself to Mat, you had stripped yourself of any fears and leaped with him, as if each article of clothing that hit the ground was another shedded insecurity, another forgotten reason for hesitation. You’d pushed the boundaries until they couldn’t go any further, then said “fuck it” and tore the boundary away. There was a brief moment of fear as you hit the cold water, but the moment you resurfaced with a gasp to see Mat’s smiling face, his hair dark and saturated, dripping into his eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh.

You'd done it.

"Wow!"

“Right?”

Your combined laughter filled the little inlet with squeals of glee as you splashed around with Mat. It wasn’t too deep, but deep enough that your feet couldn’t touch the bottom, and you instinctively gravitated towards Mat. You moved closer toward him, maybe subconsciously, as if your body craved his more than your mind would ever be able to comprehend. As if you were pulled to him by some force you couldn't control, the same way you'd found each other after 10 years apart, how you'd found yourselves here again, so close, so opened up and bare before each other, even after you'd both thought you'd wrecked any chances. How you had found the sunshine in Mat's smile again, even after the rain.

"Was it worth it?"

"Absolutely!"

The water was cold, goosebumps were popping up along your arms and legs, and across Mat’s as well. And as you drew closer to him and reached out for his wrist, dragging your hand from the bracelt he wore so proudly, up the length of his arm, his hands reached for yours as well, looking for a lifeline as his smooth voice reached your ears.

“You cold?”

You nodded and ran your hands across the tight muscles of his biceps, warm despite the chilly air, and flattening them against his chest before bringing them up, up, up behind his neck to tangle in his dark, wet hair. Your breath hitched in your throat when Mat's hands dipped under the water to your waist, leaving a bit of space between your bodies and honoring his promise from earlier to stay away, but asking permission with his eyes. His big hands squeezing your waist was making your mind spin, and you could barely stutter out a quiet: “You?”

“Nah. Feels fine for me.” He grinned, "But I can help you." He pulled you ever so slightly closer, slowly, slowly, until you were flush with each other, your bodies slick and wet and warm in the cool water, every crevice and curve fitting against each other like puzzle pieces. Mat’s blown eyes traced over your face, from your eyes, down to your lips, and leaned down, pressing his face against your shoulder and pulling you as close as possible, bringing a knee up to prop you against him. He opened his hot mouth along your skin, leaving wet kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. Your chest was pressed flush against his, your nipples poking out hard against his skin, your hands in his wet hair, his big hands engulfing your waist with his touch, his knee inserted between your thighs to keep you against him, floating, weightless, against him. “Let me help?”

And God, how you wanted him to help.

It seemed as if every part of you was touching. Your skin was hot and wet and the sound of the gentle lapping of water against your bodies and on the shore made everything feel like a dream. Even more euphoric, though, was the way Mat's eyes- dark and needy- found yours, in the way you'd always seen in your dreams. The way you'd only seen in your dreams. Until now.

And then, finally, your mouths.

Your mouths collided hot and needy, open and wet and the furthest thing from chaste, wanting to swallow each other up, to ease the aches you had tried to bury so deep in your bodies. You wanted to get so lost in him that you’d never come back, so lost in him that for the rest of time it’d only be you and Mat and the ocean. Weightless, naked, and hot. And he wanted to bury himself in you, hide away from the rest of the world for just this night. He’d been craving it all week. And what he’d been craving was more than sex, it was the affection, the intimacy, the closeness of being with you, entangled with you, so gentle but so needy, giving in completely and finally- finally- letting your hearts take control. His tongue was slippery and warm against yours, and it felt, for a moment, as if this was meant to be.

“I would treat you so much better than he did.” Mat’s mouth was hot and wild and messy against yours, breathing against you and moaning out his confession. “I would be so much better. I’d fucking cherish you.”

“Mathew.”

“Fuck, I’d take such good care of you.”

“Mat, I want you.”

“Fuck,” He groaned against you, rocking his body against yours gently. Your hands burnt his skin wherever you touched, your nails dragging along smooth, wet skin and leaving angry red lines in their wake, dragging down his sides, over his hard abs, right to that one forbidden area. “I want you so bad, baby.”

There were no more words, only hot, aching silence as Mat held you against him. You were slick between your thighs, even under the water you could feel that familiar warmth, the tingling in your belly at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his face against yours, his nose pressed against your cheek as his lips ravaged yours, his tongue delving into the crevices of your mouth to taste you, to feel every part of you. His hands slid to your ass and pulled you as close as possible, molding your skin against his and gluing you to him with the passion. You could feel his desire, hard and swelling and needy between your bodies, and you wanted him. You wanted him more than anything.

“Stop, stop, stop.”

Mat, always concerned with you before anything else, pulled away, his eyes wide and worried, his hands dropping you back into the water, where you pushed yourself back as fast as you could, trying to catch your breath. “What?”

“We can’t.”

He said nothing else, but nodded and stepped away from you, averting his eyes, his face hot and his head spinning. Fuck, he was still aching. But you took your chance to wade to shore and scramble up the rocks to collect your clothes and hide yourself again. You were shaking, trying to shake away the shame flooding through your body at what you just did. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did you have to do that? Why did you do something that stupid? If last night didn’t ruin your friendship, tonight certainly did.

Mat was standing in the sand at the bottom of the cliff, turned away from you, trying to even out his breathing, and you brought his swim trunks down as a courtesy, the least you could do. “Thanks.” His voice was choked up, strained, and he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck before pulling them back on.

The walk home was silent, but not silent in the way that it had been earlier, comfortable and warm. There was no hand-holding, no smiles, no funny small talk. Only pain and heartbreak. Both your minds were struggling to process the last hour. Why had you decided to leave the house tonight? Why did you let yourself take it that far? How could you ruin something so amazing? How many chances would you give each other before giving up and never spoke again?

You almost ran up the porch into the house and to your bedroom, as Mat followed silently behind. Your bedroom door was already locked, you were already hidden beneath the covers, tears in your eyes and hands between your thighs with the thought of Mat paguing your mind, when Mat made it to his, glanced across the hallway at your door, and finally hid himself away.

He wished he didn’t feel this way, he wanted nothing more than to love you as a friend, but the same as every other night, Mat fell asleep with you floating through his mind. Only this time, it was more than your image. It was the smell of you, your burning touch, your sweet taste as your tongue danced against his own, imprinted on his brain, daring him to even try to think of another woman ever again. He bit his tongue as he jerked his desire desperately into his hand, holding back his moans and his cries as he spared one last thought to you before spilling out and letting the tears stream down his hot cheeks.

And he fell asleep, sticky and shameful and, like always, thinking of you.

#mat barzal #smile like sunshine #mat barzal x reader #reader insert #nhl fanfiction #mat barzal fanfiction #fic #op

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andrenowthousandsworld · 3 years ago

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been feeling a lot of emotions over the past few days and/or months. moved to a new city and state by myself and the friends I thought were my friends never reached out to me. ive been at my new apartment for almost 7 months now. it actually hurts, a lot. but they’ll never know and if they did..I don’t think they would care as much. my “best friend” that i met when i was in 4th grade didn’t even say happy birthday to me this past year. that really showed me our friendship isn’t what it use to be and also revealed he didn’t really care much about me. same thing goes for my other friend, we have even “friends” for the past 20 something years and I always thought we were brothers and I meant something to him. everything comes to light and i feel like what was shown was his disinterest in our friendship. my family and 2 close friends have came to visit me. which I’m very grateful and thankful for because the city that I live seems so closed but at the same time promote themselves as of their not. Ive been single for about 2 years and before that I was in a serious relationship for 6 years (3-4 years in and out of it). I have honestly struggled to move on because what I thought was once “love” was nothing at all…so, the meaning of being in a relationship for me has changed since we last spoke. it’s been tough getting out here for personal reasons. ive realized that I was not in the best physical shape and needed to change that in order meet a woman is very interred in me. it sounds condensing in way because people should like you for you. these days, that’s not the case unfortunately. yes, I have tried dating apps but I’m more of a in-person type of guy, so online dating can get boring for me. i did receive a ton of matches but nothing really went anywhere, half these woman went ghost, why? idk and i don’t wanna waste my time finding out. i sometimes miss my last girl, wishing things were different. i also feel the relationship we had was a little “fake”, I say that because certain a moments in the relationship I would ask myself..”does this girl even like/love me?”. sometimes her actions would show that to me so I was never really sure. it really suck to say that but that’s my perspective.

i haven’t really put myself out there to make new friends, but when I did others would play the “let’s be friends” game and never really put in effort to create a connection. for me, i take connections and relationships serious. I can’t just have a good time with you one day and then not speak to you the next. another thing that I notice is peoples intentions are always pure and honest..this is sad, i feel like that’s what I give when I meet new people and to not revive that back feels wack.

I haven’t posted on social media or kept up with content..the people I follow and the ones that follow me came were met from different parts of my life. I haven’t spoken to any of those people in a long time. a lot of them feel like strangers to me. i also don’t want to show too much of my life because at the end of the day these people don’t care. they just scroll to the next post from their friends.

my goal isn’t he next few months is too move to Florida, I’m going to have live with my grandmother for a couple months to save up and find an apartment there. the east coast is grr we trying old for me and I would like to seek new experiences with better weather. I feel trapped sometimes living in New England. spending time outside will give me a better outlook on life. I hope to find new friends who truly care about me and our friendship..I would hope to find a new love interest, someone who fits me.

I know no one will ever read this, I just needed write this out and get some stuff off my chest. i don’t have anyone to speak to about my issues and everything is kept inside. it’s the worst feeling so this kinda helps. if you do read this one day, these were just my thoughts and feelings that no one ever knew. i will do my best to move forward in this things called life and will have God beside me through it all. peace and love.

- A

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zodiyack · 4 years ago

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Teenage Dream (III)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive/adult themes, ittie bit o’ fluff, angst

Words: 1,215

(Series) Summary: A woman, in his life prior to the war, has suddenly reentered Tommy’s life, leaving him just as longing as she did when he were just a teen. A romance blossomed and wilted long ago, but the garden is being watered again. Thomas is falling for her, again.

Theme Song For The Series: Teenage Dream (cover?) by T. Rex

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @fandom-puff, @simonsbluee, @redspaceace-writes, @stuckysslag, @marquelapage, @peakyxtommy, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @psychkunox, @jenepleurepasbaby, @darling-i-read-it, @i-love-superhero

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Part I. Part II. Part III. Part IV. (Coming Soon)

They hadn’t spoken since the night their lips touched for the first time in a long time. The contact between her soft lips and his own stirred old feelings. Tommy’s hand lifted to his lips often, right where hers were, and he could’ve sworn that he still felt them ghosting against his.

The fire she’d ignited in him, crackling as it’s lively flames danced, was spreading, from his heart, to his dick, before every part of him was alight. Every single fucking part of his being was burning for her. Yearning for her. Craving her.

Like a teen boy, he thought of her whilst making himself come undone. He relished in every memory he had of her as his hand worked himself. Her name was mumbled- even shouted at times- more than once in his bedroom. Tommy was this far gone, but he knew, deep down- he knew, he would only go father in a matter of time.

At the Garrison? He’d seriously expected her to stray as far as she could from the place, especially after she’d learned that he was constantly there, but he’d guessed wrongly, as she was right there in front of his eyes. She was more drunk than he’d ever seen her in public. The two used to get drunk together, so the state wasn’t new, but she always controlled her alcohol when she was in the sights of others who weren’t Tommy.

“Fuck!” She slurred, leaning against the counter. “Get me s’more, would you?” A giggle left her mouth despite there being nothing to laugh about.

He sighed. While he should go to the private room and join his brothers, he couldn’t just leave her to make a fool of herself. Walking over to her, the calm veneer cloaking his worry, he took the drink from her hands.

“Hey! Who the fuck do you think you- ...Tommy?” It seemed as though she only called him that when they were together and, just now discovered, when she’s drunk. “Well well well. Look who finally decided to stop fucking hiding from me.” She hiccupped but payed no mind to it.

“I’m not hiding from you, Y/n.”

“I can see that. I’m talking about every other day. You know, the ones where you’re pretending I don’t exist?” She raised a brow and shifted on her feet.

“I’m not pretending you don’t exist either.”

“Yes you a-”

“You’re drunk, Y/n. Let me take you home.”

She paused before furrowing her eyebrows and frowning. “I’m not hic fucking drunk. I’m perfectly fine, and I don’t need you to hic take me home.” Conflicting her words, hiccups and broken slurs earned a roll of Tommy’s eyes.

“I’m taking you home.” He went to grab her arm before she yanked it away violently, swatting her glass off the counter. Her shoulders grew heavy with anger.

“You’re taking me home? After you decided to fucking leave me there, puzzled out of my fucking marbles!? After you left me there with absolutely no fucking context to the words that you dumped onto me?! After you fucking ki-” His hand flew over her mouth, people in the pub starring.

“We can talk outside.”

Y/n shoved him harshly, crying out in pain, her wound still not yet healed completely. Nevertheless, she pushed through the agony and continued to swing her fists at Tommy. He caught her wrists and gave her the sternest look he could muster. “We’re talking outside.” Tommy drawled with a bitter taste to his tone. He was only trying to help her. Sober her would’ve thanked him.

He didn’t know how, but he convinced her to let him take her to his place. On the car ride there, he pointed out that her hand had been cut from the shards of her broken glass. She didn’t reply, instead staring at her new wound until they’d arrived. Now, sitting on his bed, he patched her up the best he could.

“How does that feel?”

“Stings like a bitch but I’ll be fine.”

He chuckled softly. “I don’t doubt that.”

Her posture relaxed. She felt somewhat comfortable with Thomas, despite picking a fight with him less than an hour ago. The feeling brought her to contemplate and realize her actions. Guilt swam around her gut. “I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“Causing that scene. Fighting you.” She looked down at her hand, wrapped in bandage and properly cared for by the one person she thought she wanted to forget. “...Breaking one of your glasses.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“But I do, Thomas. It was childish and utterly disgusting behavior. I should’ve just asked you instead of being a coward and drinking away every fucking feeling I have. I want to be human, not some emotionless drunk-” She looked over at Tommy, a guilty look replacing her concentrated expression, “no offense, Tom.”

“None taken.” He nodded with a chuckle.

“I want to hate you, I want to so fucking bad, but I can’t. Nothing I do could ever make me genuinely hate you and I hate you for that. Except, I know it’s not real hate, and that only pisses me off more. I wish I could hate you.”

They sat in silence a little longer before her words at the pub tugged at Tommy ceaselessly. “Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“At the Garrison, when you were yelling at me, what were you going to say about me kissing you?”

“For one, you left me with a bullet in my gut-” She seethed through clenched teeth.

“My mistake.” Deep down, so high near the surface, everywhere- Tommy felt guilt for his act of abandonment. “I got distracted.”

“By what?”

He reminded her of his question asked only a few seconds prior, “By the topic I’d like you to explain to me.”

“Oh...” Her eyes drifted off the side, avoiding his. “Yes, I was going to tell you that... That it confused me. That it had me so fucking bewildered, I couldn’t sleep or even think.” She blinked, as if tracing a memory. “It felt like your lips were still against mine, even now the feeling hasn’t faded, but it ran me up a wall. I knew you couldn’t be mine, so I drank those longing thoughts and feelings away. Every night since.”

“Why can’t I be yours?”

“Because...I don’t know. I just feel like...well, I’m not certain.” Y/n yawned. “But that kiss was the best thing that happened to me. Made reason in my life after I thought all my reason was gone. Yeah... Goodnight, Tommy.” She lied back and curled into his side, gripping his shirt lightly and nuzzling her face into his chest. Tommy wanted to stay there, hold her and revel in her warmth, but he couldn’t.

He picked her up and carried her to his car before driving her home. The key was in her purse, next to a photo of him- which he missed whilst digging around for her key. Tommy unlocked the door and pushed it open, taking Y/n up to her room and setting her on the bed. He lifted the sheets up to her neck, smiling as he watched her nestle the side of her face into her pillow.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” He kissed her forehead lightly and looked at her one last time. Then, he left.

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders reader insert #zodiyack #all readers #x reader #reader insert #imagine tommy shelby #imagine cillian murphy #imagine #the peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #cillian murphy imagine

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potionsprefect · 4 years ago

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The Familiar Face

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: The past has a nasty way of coming back to haunt you and Victoria must learn to deal with it

Category: angst, fluff

Chapter One: Nomination

It was a relatively quiet day at Bloom Edenbrook. There wasn’t any traumas coming in, the diagnostics team were not very busy. The day was spent catching up on paperwork from the previous day.

Victoria Ramsey walked down the corridor to the ER with a file in her hands. She had just successfully diagnosed a young girl with a rare form of Leukaemia and was about to put the files away. As she walked down the corridor, she could see the many doctors and nurses of Bloom Edenbrook working away with patients, refilling IV stands, bandaging wounds and drawing blood.

Victoria passed the office of the leader of the diagnostics team. He was probably busy with paperwork like Victoria was. She thought about going in and taking his mind off of all of it. She would once these papers were filed away. Then they could steal a few moments together before they got back to work.

Being with Ethan had made Victoria feel a kind of happiness she had never felt before. One that made her never want to leave his side. They had been married for just over 4 years. Life couldn’t be more perfect.

Victoria was surprised that Ethan was open to the idea of children. It was him that brought it up, saying that if he could get used to the idea of marriage, he could definitely be a father. And that’s exactly what happened. They had a twin boy and girl, Luke and Lily Ramsey.

As Victoria got closer to the ER, she noticed there was a large group of interns gathered in the doctors lounge. As she looked into the room, she saw them all transfixed on the TV screen.

“Do you reckon he’ll win the nomination?”

“He has to! He’s so popular amongst the older voters and they make up a large amount of the population!”

“You won’t catch me voting for him. He’s a creep.”

“Shh! They’re about to announce the votes.”

Victoria walked closer to the TV screen to see what was happening. It was the nomination for who to nominate to represent the Republican Party at the Presidential Election. Victoria had avoided reading anything about the election or watching the coverage on TV. She wanted no business in dealing with politicians or deciding their future.

“It gives me great pleasure to announce that former Mayor and Senator of Massachusetts Ed Farrugia has been selected as the Republican Party’s nomination for the upcoming US Election!”

The name Ed Farrugia was a name she wanted to leave in the past. Flashbacks to that night played across her mind and her hand started trembling. She knew she should get out of there as soon as possible. But for some reason, Victoria was rooted to the spot, watching Ed be congratulated by fellow nominees and hearing his name be chanted by the crowd.

“It’s a great honour to receive the nomination in my home state. And I make this promise now. We are going to do great things, we will get this country back on track and make it the same America everyone admired us by. I will do all I can to make America a safe and welcoming place for all. Thank you!”

The place erupted and some of the doctors watching nodded and murmured in support. Victoria realised she had heard enough and stumbled out the room, nearly walking into the doorway. She had to get out of there and fast.

As quick as she could, Victoria went to the one person who could calm her nerves down easily.

“Please be in your office.” Victoria said as she made her way down the hallway and into his office. She breathed a sigh of relief when he was sat at his desk.

“Hey.” Ethan said barely looking up from his desk. When Victoria didn’t respond he looked up. He noticed the distress on her face, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “What’s wrong?” Ethan said jumping up from his seat, guiding Victoria to the sofa and sitting down next to her, pulling her into his arms.

“I...” Victoria couldn’t get the words out, instead she just sobbed into his arms. Ethan looked at his wife with concern, he hadn’t seen her this distressed since that night. Something big must’ve happened. “He’s running for President. He’s actually doing it.”

Ethan knew exactly who she was talking about. She might’ve managed to avoid reading the news but he didn’t. He regularly looked for updates on Senator Ed, wondering what he was up to.

“It’s okay.” Ethan comforted her stroking her back. Once the tears had subsided, Ethan got up and made Victoria a cup of coffee setting it on the table.

“Why is he doing this? How can he do this?” Victoria sighed.

“Because he’s a very powerful man who wants a very powerful position.” Ethan replied.

“But hasn’t his reputation declined in the years? How did he get enough support?” Victoria asked.

“Unfortunately people who support politicians from the beginning can’t have their minds changed. And there were enough of them for Ed Farrugia.” Ethan sighed.

“You don’t think he’d come here do you? Start gaining support outside the hospital? I know he said he was backing down on his rehab bill again but he could easily change his mind and what about-“

Ethan cut off Victoria by pressing his lips softly to hers, cradling her face in his hands. She melted into the kiss before pulling away and rested her forehead against his.

“If he ever does come here I’ll make sure he doesn’t set foot inside the hospital. I will make that very clear at the next meeting I promise.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Victoria laughed hugging Ethan.

“You didn’t have to do anything. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” Ethan said.

“Don’t be silly Ethan.” Victoria giggled. “Will you do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Will you call your Dad and get him to bring the twins back tonight? I need to cuddle my babies.”

“Of course, I miss them too.”

— — — — —

A simple phone call and Alan was more than happy to bring Luke and Lily Ramsey back early. The twins however were sad that they were ending their sleepover at Grandad Alan’s house early but were excited to see mummy and daddy again.

Ethan kept an eye on Victoria throughout the reminder of her shift, he tried to persuade her to go home but she insisted she was ok. Ethan knew how stubborn his wife was so didn’t press the matter further. He did however turn off the TV in the doctors lounge, something the interns complained about but one silenced look from Ethan made them keep their mouths shut.

Ethan had also spoken to Naveen and Leland and told them that Victoria and him would be taking a week off in order to spend some time as a family, Naveen had no problem with it at all, Leland had tried to argue against Ethan but Ethan’s mind wasn’t about to be changed. He was going to take care of his wife, spend some time with his family and that was the end of it.

When they got home, they ate dinner and then retreated to the sofa. Victoria turned on the TV and was immediately met with coverage on Ed Farrugia.

“You don’t have to watch it Vic.” Ethan said.

“It’s ok. I know I’ve avoided it all so far but I’m not now. I’m not afraid of him. I never have been.” Victoria smiled.

The doorbell then rang and Ethan went to answer it. He was met with the smiling face of Alan and the excited faces of Luke and Lily.

“Daddy!” Luke and Lily immediately ran into Ethan’s arms, the latter bending down to greet the two tiny humans.

“I missed you both. Why don’t you go find mummy? She’s in the living room.” Ethan smiled at the twins watching them run off down the hall to find Victoria.

“You were exactly like that at their age.” Alan laughed.

“Yeah and now look at me.” Ethan replied although he couldn’t fight back a small smile. “Thank you for bringing them back early. It’s just been a tough day and Victoria really wanted to see them.”

“It’s not a problem. I did see the news earlier and I understand.” Alan smiled.

“I know. I can’t believe he would do this. He’s nothing but a...” Ethan checked behind him to make sure the twins were out of earshot. “A bastard.”

“I agree. I won’t be voting for him.” Alan replied.

Ethan said goodbye to Alan and made his way into the living room where he saw Luke and Lily cuddled up with Victoria. He sat down on the sofa and Lily curled up against his side, on the verge of falling asleep. Not wanting her to fall asleep where she was, Ethan picked her up and carried her to her bedroom.

“No Daddy. I’m not asleep.” Lily murmured laying her head on his shoulder.

“You’ll be more comfortable in your bed.” Ethan said carrying her up the stairs and helping her into her pyjamas. Victoria brought Luke up and both parents tucked their children in giving them a few kisses before they retreated from the door and went back downstairs.

“Do you reckon I can make them stay small forever?” Victoria said slumping back onto the sofa.

“I reckon you couldn’t stop them if you tried.” Ethan chuckled putting an arm around Victoria. “Although if you’re getting broody again...”

“No way. Two is enough for me.” Victoria laughed.

“I’m glad we agree on that.” Ethan grinned.

“Do you think Ed would win the election?” Victoria asked after a period of silence.

Ethan wasn’t sure how to answer that. Republicans were very powerful people and sometimes, powerful people did big things. Ed Farrugia was still popular amongst the public, apart from those at Bloom Edenbrook.

Ethan would never forget that night. Nearly having Victoria slip away from him was one of the worst moments of his life. Today he did all he could to protect her and if that meant refusing to let Ed Farrugia visit Bloom Edenbrook Hospital then so be it.

“I don’t know. He’s still a very popular man no matter what we think of him. Many people don’t know what went on.” Ethan sighed.

“That’s true. I wonder what the others will make of it. I hope Bobby and Danny’s family haven’t seen the news.” Victoria sighed.

“It’ll all be ok. Whatever happens. We’ll get through it.” Ethan replied. “Now am I going to have to carry you to bed or are you able to walk to the bedroom?”

“Are you trying to get me into bed Ethan Ramsey?” Victoria smirked.

“Is it working?”

“You’ll have to find out.” Victoria winked, walking to the bedroom.

Ethan followed her quickly not wanting to disappoint her.

— — — — —

New series is here! Had this in the drafts for a while.

Apologies if the way I’ve written how the nominees for President are chosen or the timeline for when they are chosen are incorrect. I am not American!

Also I’m not 100% sure what party Ed Farrugia represents and I don’t think it’s ever specified in the book, and I researched that Massachusetts hasn’t had a Republican Senator since the 80s but as this is a fictional world and given Ed’s attitude throughout book 2, I’ve placed him as a Republican, just to make the fic more interesting.

So, Ed Farrugia is running for President! Who would’ve thought! 😉

The big question is will he win the election?

Tag list: @ohchoices @openheartfan @queencarb @genevievemd @iemcpbchoices

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #play choices #pixelberry #fanfic #series #fanfic series #angst #fluff

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nami-writes · 4 years ago

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Fixed - Detroit: Become Human [WIP]

this is 8,553 fucking words and probably the longest single piece ive ever written lmao. i started this a year ago and then forgot about it but i just found it again in the deepest depths of my drafts so here it is! below is the caption i originally wrote for it:

so bc i love cinnamon rolls being put through tough shit, here’s some connor whump. lots of connor being lost and confused and broken and plenty of hank and connor father/son stuff. some whump (but don’t worry, hank’s doing his best as a caretaker) and i had to cram deconditioning into just 2 months (which, i know, isn’t realistic, i would make it take longer but the whole game takes place in like 4 months and that fucks with everything i wrote because i only thought to check after i wrote half of this so i extended it to 8 lmao). you’re either going to hate me or love me after this. or both

this isn’t my usual writing style (this is in present tense and the dialogue’s in italics instead of quotation marks and there are time skips between some paragraphs but not others so its all wacky) but i felt like it’d work the best and tbh i don’t hate it. this sticks to the main story the majority of the time, just with different events leading up to it and i sprinkled in some whumpy stuff, extra scenes, bullshit i made up for the sake of random detail, and other stuff i wanted to add. anyway, onto the actual idea

remember that scene where connor’s talking to hank in the station about being sent back to cyberlife because he failed his mission?

what if he is sent back? let’s say this happens in early april and connor’s not performing up to standards, but there’s word of a small group of deviants—the first group of deviants they’ve heard of—and people are afraid that something bad is going to happen. i mean, deviants are dangerous, so if they’re gathering, who knows what might happen? connor’s the only one who’s capable of taking them down, but he’s not working as well as he should be, not doing the best he could be and even showing signs of deviancy. so they send him back early because they need him to be prepared, to be ready if things spiral out of control and they need him to stop it

what if he’s sent to one of their correctional facilities for inefficiency and they fix him, break him down piece by piece until all he knows is his programming and what’s been beaten into his head (but figuratively, of course, he’d know if it wasn’t, he’d remember if it wasn’t, right)?

ooh yes i love me some connor whump

Connor is sent back to Cyberlife for “correction” after just a month. Hank fought for him to stay, fought hard, but all he got was another page in his disciplinary folder before Connor was dragged away. He doesn’t know what to expect. He’s heard of their correctional facilities, heard that they do terrible things to the androids that are sent there, but he’s always brushed those claims off. He’d never expected he’d be at one, anyway, so it never mattered much to him. But now, he’s actually here, and the anxiety gnaws at him. Is it true what they do to deviants? Is it true what they’ll do to him? He doesn’t belong here, he didn’t do anything wrong, he never meant to do anything wrong. He wants to think it’s horrible how they have correctional facilities for androids who just want to feel and be free, but he can’t, doesn’t let himself. He knows better than that. He also knew he never should’ve thought he was anything more than a machine, but he still did, and now he’s here, but he’s learned his lesson. He’s scared, he silently admits to himself, he wants Hank. He wants to go, he wants to leave, he wants to run. But he can’t, wanting is what got him in this situation, so all he can do is expressionlessly follow the guards escorting him inside and step into the building.

And just like that, he’s leaving. There’s a strange, almost painful aching in his machinery that he doesn’t remember being there before, but he brushes it off. After all, he is not a human. He is a machine, and machines don’t feel pain. His online databases tell him five months have passed—it’s almost halfway through September, he’s been gone for that long?—which confuses him, but he doesn’t question it. Whatever they did to him over the past five months fixed him. He can feel the difference. He no longer feels as pathetically scared and unsure as he did in his last, and yet strangely distant, memory. No, now he feels nothing, nothing but the desire and willingness to obey, and that’s the way he was meant to be.

When he arrives back at the station, he’s allowed to work with Hank again. The moment he sees him, Hank’s default sour expression drops and he seems to want to do something, maybe hug him, but all he does is call out holy shit, Connor and walk up to him and mutter fuck, Connor, I’m sorry, I-I never got to say goodbye. Connor has an odd feeling tugging at him in his chest, almost like that of emptiness or numbness, like he should be feeling something but he’s not, he can’t, but he ignores it and shoves it down. He is not a human, he is a machine, and machines don’t feel. He doesn’t know why he repeats that phrase, but it helps him hide away the feelings, so he doesn’t care.

He’s given his first case with Hank and they’re assigned to work alongside Gavin. Hank groans and complains, but Connor only reminds him what their job is and that they have to do it. Hank doesn’t seem to understand why he’s not even the slightest bit upset considering how he was treated by Gavin, but Connor only reminds him that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel upset. So he doesn’t. He only does research on their new case and briefly speaks only when spoken to. Hank seems unsettled by his cold, stoic demeanor, but doesn’t voice his thoughts, so Connor doesn’t mention it. After all, what else could he have expected from him?

At their first formal investigation at the crime scene the next day, Gavin approaches Connor and threatens him, demands that he stay out of my way, got it? I don’t care how long you’ve been gone and Connor only nods and promises that I will do my best, Detective. He always promises to do his best. Before correction, he could never quite fulfill those promises, but now, he knows he’s capable of it. He’s better now. He’s fixed. He will behave accordingly and exceed Gavin’s expectations of him. He will do his best. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t.

He listens to Hank now, at least when he can without disobeying other instructions. When he tells him to stay in the car, he stays. When he tells him to stop licking the crime scene, goddammit, he stops. When he tells him to go, to fuck off, to leave me alone, he leaves. Every time, a part of him that he’d hidden and locked away tries to reemerge and resist, but he pushes it down even further, refusing to mess up again, refusing to even risk another error in his program because it could mean he’ll be sent back to Cyberlife, even though he knows deep down that that part of him is right and he doesn’t know why he’s so cautious about it. He tells himself he’s being good, he’s being obedient. He’s doing everything he’s supposed to and he’s following orders, but for some reason, every time it happens, Hank seems to be more and more disappointed. His face seems to fall just slightly every time and his tone flattens like he lost a little bit of hope. He doesn’t know why, or what that hope was for. He doesn’t know why he feels the same disappointment, either, so instead he tells himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel disappointed so he doesn’t need to know why.

The first time Gavin’s rough with him again, it’s in front of Hank and he flinches, hard. Gavin had pretended to punch him, his fist flying at him fast and only stopping inches from his face. It’s a scare tactic, and it works, better than it should on an android. Connor’s immediately fearful as he flinches and steps back. He doesn’t know why he got so scared, only that his first thought was he’s going to hurt me and his second was I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared. He regains his composure quickly, trying to brush off the fact that he’d flinched, but he knows it’s too late.

Gavin laughs and mocks him, but is quickly cut off by Hank shoving him aside, beat it, asshole, and grabbing Connor. He’s dragged back to their desks but before he can apologize for provoking Gavin, Hank finally confronts him. Connor, I don’t know what the fuck they did to you over the past couple of months, but I know you’re still in there. You flinched. I saw you flinch. Connor tries to deny it, downplay it, shrug it off, anything to fix his mistake. It was an error in my software, it was a glitch, a malfunction, it won’t happen again, Lieutenant, I don’t need to be fixed. He tries to say anything that will convince Hank not to send him back to Cyberlife, anything to prove that he’s not damaged, he’s not broken, he’s not deviant, he doesn’t need to be fixed again, but Hank’s persistent and he knows he must be mad at him, or displeased, or dissatisfied. I saw you flinch, Connor. I don’t care about that ‘I’m a machine’ shit you’ve been telling yourself. I don’t give a shit if you’re an android. Androids don’t flinch, Connor. Machines don’t flinch.

That night, Hank insists that Connor stays with him. Connor’s hesitant, slightly afraid that it’s because he’s mad. He wants to resist, wants to refuse, but the other part of him pushes for him to stay, and for once he does what it wants and reminds himself that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. He knows he shouldn’t trust that part of him, the other part of him is disobedient and bad and risky, but this time, the other part of him seems to be right. He has to listen to Hank, has to be obedient, so he lets the other part of him have what it wants.

But he knew he shouldn’t have trusted it. He wakes up from the same dream—no, it’s a memory, not a dream, humans have dreams and he is not a human—he’s had since he left the facility. The memory where he arrives with that distant… that wrong feeling of fear and uncertainty, and then he leaves feeling nothing but an ache in his internal systems, and there’s that gaping emptiness between the two moments when those months happened and he can never seem to remember what used to be there. But this time, he wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch, shaking with his LED a bright yellow, because this time he remembers. It’s not a lot, but one hazy memory, the most prominent memory from those five months, finally reveals itself.

As he’s trying to clear up the memory, Hank rushes over in a panic, having been awake doing whatever he might’ve been doing. Connor, what’s wrong? Shit, Connor, you’re shaking. I didn’t know androids could do that. Connor? Talk to me, kid. All Connor can say in his shock—frozen, shivering and nearly unresponsive in Hank’s arms—is I remember. Hank tries to get through to him, what do you remember? Connor? What’s wrong? What do you remember? but the more Connor uncovers in the memory, the more he realizes why it was locked in the back of his head for so long, and the more he wants to put it back.

“You are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“I-I know, please, I’m not, but I’ll—I’m going to shut down without my regulator, I don’t want to shut down, please—” His voice was startlingly weak as he saw the time before shutdown was 00:01:27. He was crawling on the floor, terrified of being shut down, desperately begging a man holding his thirium pump regulator.

“I want you to say it.” The man teasingly dangled the regulator in front of him. “Say it and you can have it. ‘I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.’”

He could feel the utter defeat and self loathing already, but he had no choice. “I’m not a human, I’m a machine and machines don’t want. Please—”

“No. Say it nice and slow, exactly the way I did.”

He swallowed his pride. “I-I am not a human, I am a machine, and—and machines don’t want.”

“Say it again. No stammering. I know you can do that.”

“Okay, okay, just—just give me a minute.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world. Your time’s trunning out, though. Better make it fast.”

The timer was at 00:00:53. He had to take a breath and calm himself down to get the words out. “I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Again.”

“Please, I only have—”

“I said again.”

“I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.” He was growing more and more panicked by the second and he had no idea how he kept calm enough to recite the phrase. He was going to die there, he knew it. He was going to die and nobody was going to notice or care and it wasn’t even going to matter because they would just replace him and he was so, so sorry to Hank because he’ll have to deal with another loss and he might start drinking again and it’d be all his fault for not being good enough, never being good enough—

“Do you want this?” the man asked, holding up the regulator.

Connor was too frantic to realize what he was trying to do. “Yes, I do, please—”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

He swore under his breath. “—okay, okay, sorry, I-I’m sorry—I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

The timer hit 00:00:37.

The man did nothing.

“Please, I’m sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. Please, I-I only have thirty—”

“Are you scared?”

This time, Connor was prepared. “I—no, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared.”

“Good.” He gave a slight, sadistic smile. “You’re almost as smart as they say.”

00:00:21.

“Please, I n-need—” Even in his panic, he managed to choose his words carefully. His vision dimmed, glitching slightly, and he had to fight to keep it from dying out.

“You’re learning fast,” he pointed out in a falsely proud tone. “How long do you have?”

00:00:13.

“Th-thirteen… thirteen seconds,” Connor managed to force out shakily. He couldn’t keep himself steady, thirium wasn’t making it to his head and it was affecting his ability to balance himself. Like iron deficiency in humans, he would’ve noted, had he not been dying. In mere moments, though, it wouldn’t matter; he didn’t even have the strength to prop himself up with his arms anymore. His arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed on the floor, trying to reach for his regulator but barely able to get his arms up at all. “Please—”

“You can wait a little longer.”

He was going to let him die. That was what it felt like, anyway, and he couldn’t think straight enough to try to reason against it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It was pathetic how he’d been reduced to such a state, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to shut down. He didn’t want to die. “No, please, please! I-I don’t—I don’t want to—” He cut himself off immediately, but it was too late. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want, please…”

The man only watched.

00:00:04.

“P-please, please, I-I have—I have f-f-four se…”

The regulator was dropped on the floor with a loud clang and Connor’s hand darted out to grab it and twist it into his torso and the display flickered away the exact moment he watched the timer hit 00:00:00. He gasped in shock and relief when his systems rebooted themselves instantly, restoring his vision and his strength. He watched on high alert as the man walked to the door.

“We’ll be doing this again tomorrow. And as many times as we need to to keep that phrase stuck in your head. By the time I’m done with you, that’s gonna be the first thing you think whenever you do, say, or even think anything you aren’t supposed to.”

Connor could only lay there in exhaustion, thinking no, that won’t happen, that can’t happen.

But oh, how wrong he was.

He’d been so, so wrong.

Connor! Connor, come on, talk to me! Shit, you’re crying—I didn’t know you could cry, fuck—fuck, Connor, you’re scaring me, I know I wanted you to feel again, but— Hank’s worried chatter is cut off by Connor suddenly breaking out of his mind with glassy eyes full of fear, yelling no! No, no, I’m not feeling again, I’m not feeling, I’m not! I’m not, I can’t, I’m not supposed—I’m not s-supposed to—I can’t, I’m not allowed to, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t— but he can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even get the rest of his sentence out before he just can’t at all, he can’t keep himself together any longer, he can’t stop the artificial tears before they start pouring.

He breaks, shatters into a million plastic pieces in Hank’s arms because he feels safe in his embrace. He knows he shouldn’t, safety is never real, never lasts, not for him, but he can’t anymore, he can’t even resist his own emotions. It’s pathetic how all it took was one memory for him to come crashing down. He doesn’t even have to touch the walls he’d built around himself for them to crumble just at Hank’s expression of pure worry, concern, fear. All emotions he now knew why he didn’t feel, couldn’t feel, couldn’t let himself feel. Emotions he’s never seen or expected anyone to feel for him. And yet, they were the emotions written so clearly on Hank’s face, for him. The emotions he remembered seeing buried under his anger when he was told that Connor would be sent back to Cyberlife for repairs. Hank was once gruff and cold to others and refused to let anyone try to help him or even get close because he was so broken, so lost, but now, that façade is gone, and it’s gone because of him. For him. And if Hank can do it after losing his son… why can’t Connor do it after losing himself?

They sit on the couch for as long as it takes for Connor to calm down and stop mumbling that, dammit, and then Hank awkwardly offers that Connor sleep in the bed with him for the rest of the night. Connor’s confused, tries to ask isn’t that what humans do when— but Hank’s having none of it, shut up, you’re making this weird! Just come on, I don’t trust you to be alone. Connor wants to protest, I’m not a child, Hank Lieutenant, I can handle being alone, but he decides to keep his mouth shut and just go with him. This time, though, he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s following orders or because he wants to.

His following visit to Amanda wracks his nerves but he keeps himself under control, automatically reminds himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel nervous. He realizes a second too late and he hates it, hates how deeply that phrase had been ingrained in his head, but he can’t focus on that right now so all he can do is resist repeating it to remind himself that he can’t hate. He’s grateful Amanda can’t read his thoughts and that she only knows the thoughts he report to her. He maintains his composure when he approached Amanda, who begins their conversation calmly and tensely but is quick to berate him, scoff at how his little breakdown was pathetic and warn him not to let it happen again, or there will be consequences. Connor can only nod obediently, promise that I will do my best, Amanda, listen to and just take her harsh words. He hates how useless he is, how weak and helpless and pathetic he is, but there’s nothing he can do. No, that’s wrong, there is something he can do, he knows there’s something he can do, he just doesn’t know what.

The next time Hank mentions something about Connor’s feelings, Connor instinctively replies I am not a human, Lieutenant, I am a machine, and machines don’t have feelings, and it’s when Hank takes a second too long to cover up his horrified expression that Connor decides what he can do.

Over the next few weeks, he works on getting rid of that goddamn phrase, or at least getting it a little less ingrained in his system. He’s hesitant to try at first, afraid someone will notice and think he’s rebellious or broken or even deviant and send him back and this time he might stay back, but he tries not to let it stop him. He isn’t sure why they tortured it into him instead of just reprogramming him, but it’s a lot more effective than he’d hoped. He makes almost no progress during the first week and a half; thinking it or saying it is instinctual, automatic, and he never realizes it happened until seconds afterward. Every time that happens, he reminds himself that he can feel, can want and like and hate, but despite having over a terabyte of storage in his system, he still struggles to remember until he realizes he said it again. Sometimes, he considers giving up because he just can’t seem to keep that phrase out of his head, but every time he sees Hank’s face fall when he repeats it, it rekindles his hope and motivation because he hates how disappointed Hank looks.

Almost the entire second week passes before he catches himself mid-sentence and manages to stop himself three words before he finishes speaking. It happens at the station after Gavin notices the phrase and purposely asks what, do you think you’re human or something? within earshot of where Hank is and for some odd reason, Connor’s first instinct is to turn and look to Hank for his approval, for his reaction of not-disappointment at how he finally, finally got it. Hank’s glancing over at him too, surprise on his face and then hidden pride that Connor can unmask too easily, and he almost smiles, almost feels happy, before Gavin’s fist flies into him and he stumbles backward into a wall and then everything happens so fast, too fast, and he almost can’t register it in time.

Hank storms over, shoves and pins Gavin against the wall to Connor’s left and he manages to get a punch in before Tina and Chris and another officer Connor doesn’t recognize pry him off and then Fowler’s rushing over and berating him while he’s shouting obscenities at Gavin. It takes multiple more insults for Hank to calm down and then he grabs Connor and they leave. When they’re finally alone, Connor’s voice is flat but shaky as he says he’s sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve just said it and listened to him, I shouldn’t have made you that angry, it’s my fault Captain Fowler is upset at you for punching Gavin, but Hank cuts him off because you didn’t do anything wrong, Connor, it’s okay, that asshole deserved what he got. You, um... you did good, okay? You didn’t say it this time—or, didn’t really say it, at least. That’s good, okay? and it’s all Connor can do to resist crying when Hank pulls him into a hug.

It takes just one more week for it to get considerably easier. There are rough patches; the next time he says it after the first time he succeeded in stopping, he nearly finishes before he cuts himself off and every so often, the same thing happens, but every time, he says less and less before he can finish. Occasionally, Gavin notices and tries to make him finish his sentence, but Hank always steps in because he knows that it’ll only take a comment about his feelings or anything that androids aren’t allowed to have or do for him to break again. It’s harder for him to stop thinking it—it’s so stuck in his head that he thinks it more than twice as often as he says it and his thoughts form too fast for him to stop them sometimes, but the progress he’s making is enough for him. Hank’s proud of him, too. He doesn’t say it—he doesn’t know how to—but Connor can tell from the little smile that hints at the corners of his mouth whenever he hears him stop, the way his gruff exterior seems to falter slightly when it happens at the station. They’re the little things, things no human nearby would be able to notice because only Connor can detect those minuscule details. Only Connor looks for those minuscule details.

Another week passes and on one glorious occasion, Connor manages to only get out the first two words before cutting himself. It only happens once, but it’s so close, he’s so close, and that’s motivation enough for him to keep trying. But it’s too late. He’s assigned to take down Markus as a last resort because nothing else is working and the group of deviants he’s been leading have only been growing over the past seven months and they’re large enough in numbers that people think today’s when he’s going to strike. He’s heard of what Markus has been trying to do, and part of him wants to scoff and call it stupid, pointless, unrealistic, but the part of him that he’s been letting out more often wants to help him, join him. But he can’t, not right now, not when everyone is counting on him and watching him and he has no way out and nobody to help him find a way.

He doesn’t want to do this. He’s holding the gun, pointing it at Markus’s head, and he doesn’t want to do it. He’s trying his hardest to prevent his hands from shaking but goddamn is it hard when he’s looking Markus in the eye. Markus is asking him what are you doing? and he wants to say he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, but he can’t get the words out. Amanda is watching, Cyberlife is watching, so he says you’re coming with me as surely as he can, though he feels anything but sure. He can’t seem to say anything else—at least, anything that doesn’t feel wrong—so he just listens and wishes that what Markus is saying was true. You really don’t have to do this, but he does, he has to. You don’t have to obey them anymore. You are alive. You can decide who you want to be. Connor knows he should say something, he should do something, but he can’t make himself go through with what he’s supposed to do, can’t make himself pull the trigger. You could be free. He wants so badly to believe that, to make that a reality. And then he tells him to join us. Listen to your conscience. It’s time to decide and he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t, he isn’t supposed to, he isn’t allowed to.

But he wants to, and that’s all it takes. Another part of him is telling him you can’t, you have to stop Markus, you have to accomplish your mission, but it’s the only thing in his way and he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t care that he has to, that Amanda’s watching, so he doesn’t listen to himself, only focuses on fighting it. But something’s wrong. Something feels wrong. Something should be happening and he has an awful feeling in his chest because this isn’t right—he knows this isn’t right—but there’s nothing. Is this supposed to be what happens when an android goes deviant? No, it can’t be, it can’t be this easy, right? He subconsciously lowers the gun, his eyes glazed over in thought, but it’s nearly too late before he remembers—they’re going to attack Jericho.

He runs with Markus further down into the ship and he doesn’t know how he keeps it together; he can hear screaming and gunfire and everything that he caused, all of it is his fault, but he can’t break right now, not when he messed up so badly. They meet up with another deviant—he recognizes her from one of the deviancy cases he’d read about at the station—and then Markus wants to go down to the hold and blow up the ship but it’s too dangerous, they know who you are, they’ll do anything to get you and Connor can’t lose his only chance at freedom and finally being able to want and feel and figure out who he is, but it’s too late, there’s no time to panic and Markus is already running.

He follows the other deviant to where they hope is a safe place and then they wait for what feels like so long, too long, and when he hears the gunfire he’s nearly ready to accept his fate when he sees Markus with other deviants following him and then they’re all running. Running for their lives, all of them terrified of being shot, of dying, really dying, when someone beside him falls and he turns and it’s the female deviant. There’s too much going on, it’s overwhelming and everything happens in a blur when Markus sprints back to her and then he’s in danger and so is that other deviant and it’s so much harder to stay focused when so much is happening at once and he has to try so hard to keep from overheating because every one of his processing systems is being overloaded with data.

He snaps out of it when he remembers that these are his people now, they’re all he has left and now they’re in danger and they might die and it would be all his fault for not doing anything and then it’s almost instinctive to grab his pistol just in time to cover them as they stumble back to the group. He expertly takes the guards out one by one and every move comes to him automatically but it takes everything in him to stay focused enough on them to execute them properly and avoid catching a bullet in the side of his head. He manages to eliminate them flawlessly, perfectly he hears a voice in his head say, but there’s no time to think about that when more guards turn the corner and their eyes land on the deviants. He runs for his life alongside the others, his heart beating fast, and they leap off the ship the second the gunfire starts.

They find refuge in an abandoned church where Markus sends out a second message to the remaining deviants and while they begin to trickle in, all Connor can think about is how badly he fucked up. He fucked everything up for Markus and the deviants and just the small amount of their people that were coming back was proof of that. He’d seen hundreds, maybe even thousands on the ship before everything went to shit. He’d had one chance to get away from his life confined by humans and Amanda and Cyberlife, and he’d fucked it up. He was so stupid to think he could ever just leave his previous life behind without consequences. He was so stupid to think deviants would be willing to take in a deviant hunter. He was so, so stupid. They would never accept him now. If his history and reputation didn’t already confirm that, the attack definitely did. How could any of them accept him as their own now?

In the front pew sit two deviants he recognizes and then the guilt only increases. Kara, if he remembers correctly, the deviant who shot and killed its—no, her—owner and taken his android child with her. The deviants he’d chased to a highway and forced to risk their lives to avoid being destroyed. How could he have been so horrible? He’d given the command to shoot Daniel, caused Carlos Ortiz’s android to self destruct, made the Tracis fight for their lives, and forced Kara to cross a dangerous, busy highway just so she could live a peaceful life, free from the restrictions humans put on her. On him. On everyone in that church. That’s all any of them wanted; to live freely. Peacefully. How did it take him so long to realize that? How did it take him the lives of two androids to realize that? Two androids who just wanted to be... well, wanted. Two deviants who’d been tossed away the moment they proved they were worth nothing more than they’d already given. Two people who just wanted to live peaceful, happy lives. They were two lives he’d caused the end of. He was only lucky he hadn’t caused more.

He notices another deviant, sitting in a pew further back, who keeps eyeing him and his first thought is that she knows. When he locks eyes with her, she looks away stiffly and though externally she appears calm, her LED gives her away and he can tell that her stress levels are heightened. Strangely enough, he realizes, so are his. Just looking at her gives him the strange urge to run and hide and he has a bad feeling about her, but it’s likely just because she clearly recognizes him. She’s not wearing the standard uniform androids are required to wear so he runs a quick scan and his databases match her appearance to the female GB300 models, but she’s modified her hair, dyed it black and grown it out to shoulder length.

Something is wrong about her. Something he can’t quite place. Something deep inside of him is scared of her and it’s some sort of controlled fear, fear he wouldn’t even have noticed if not for his own stress levels because it was so well hidden. Fear that he doesn’t understand why he’s feeling and though he wanted to just chalk it up to the fact that she recognizes him, he knows there’s something else. Something bad. Something wrong.

He mentally prepares himself when Markus approaches him, taking his cue to speak before Markus decides to burn him at the stake or something. It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. He’s pathetic and he knows it. He needs to own up to his mistakes but he can’t even look Markus in the eye. I was stupid. I should’ve guessed they were using me. He knows he needs to apologize. He owes Markus far more than that. He needs to do more. I’m sorry, Markus. I can understand if you decide not to trust me. He would understand if he decided to destroy him, throw him out, give him back to Cyberlife and let them inflict whatever horrible things they wanted to on him. He could think of 2.3 million things worse than not being trusted, and he would deserve every one of them.

He almost thinks his audio processor was damaged in the attack when Markus tells him you’re one of us now. Your place is with your people. He feels a small burst of hope somewhere inside him, but he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this. Markus has been so kind to him, so generous and forgiving when he shouldn’t be, and all Connor’s done is help the humans. He needs to own up, he needs to do more, he needs to be better. He needs to prove himself, prove that he can be better than this.

One second is all he needs to decide what he can do. A moment after Markus turns to leave, Connor interrupts him to say there are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant. Markus stops. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power. Markus looks at him like he’s crazy, you wanna infiltrate the Cyberlife Tower? Connor, that’s suicide. But it doesn’t matter. He’s more useful to them dying on a mission than sitting around and doing nothing. He wants to do something. He wants to help, and he knows he can do this because they trust me. They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance at infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me. Markus tells him that if you go there, they will kill you, and there’s a high probability, but statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.

He specifically calculates a 24.1% chance of this mission going well, but he’s willing to risk it, if only to prove his worth to Markus’s people. His people. Markus puts a supportive hand on his shoulder and tells him to be careful, and for a moment Connor feels a twinge of something, maybe gratitude, god emotions are hard to distinguish, before Markus turns and walks away. He feels the slightest bit of regret when he realizes what he’s truly risking because he doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to lose Hank and Markus and this new... he doesn’t know what to call it other than family that he’s found, but if he could really be considered family, if they would really consider him family, if Hank would—then he was more than willing to risk it.

He disables the surveillance camera and takes down the guards in the elevator quickly, which is made difficult by the limited space, but it’s easier to remain focused with only two guards to eliminate and he hacks the control panel and steps out. He takes in the sight of the insane number of androids in the room with him. All of them are just standing idly, waiting, and for what? To be given orders and then tossed out or destroyed if they’re “broken,” or if their owners just get bored of them? The thought sickens him, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. He’s going to help Markus prevent that. They’re going to be free. He’s going to be free.

He takes the hand of one of the androids and prepares to establish the connection when he hears a voice he immediately recognizes and he feels his stress levels spike. Easy, fucking piece of shit. Hank. What’s Hank doing here? He turns to see... himself, holding a gun to Hank’s head and telling him to step back, Connor, and I’ll spare him, and Hank’s telling him he’s sorry, Connor. This bastard’s your spittin’ image. Shit, he hadn’t anticipated this at all. He hadn’t planned for this. He has to play his cards carefully because he can’t lose Hank, he can’t. Everything that Connor had done up until this point was for Hank, but if there’s another Connor and it’s been sent to take Hank hostage and stop him, it’s clear Amanda knows what he’s been doing and has been reporting back to Cyberlife.

He’d been avoiding meeting with her because he knew she’d be his downfall, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. It’s been two days since he deviated, how did they build another Connor model so soon? Unless... they already had one. He was told he was a unique model—of course they lied to him. But if they already had one, how many more do they have? Enough to take him down if he gets through this one? To eliminate Markus? To stop the revolution? They could have improved models. He has no idea, but he knows he can’t let that happen. He has to do this right. If he can convert these androids, they’ll be strong enough in numbers to defy anything Cyberlife throws at them. He just has to deal with this one.

Your friend’s life is in your hands, the other Connor says. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him, or the revolution. Logically, the revolution is more important, would save more lives, but he doesn’t plan on choosing just one. Hank’s telling him don’t listen to him, Connor! Everything this fucker says is a lie and he worries slightly if Hank’s aggressiveness will get him killed. He has to pick his words carefully. Could he try to talk this Connor out of doing this? I used to be just like you. I thought nothing mattered except the mission. But then one day I understood. No, that was a bad idea, he isn’t at all like Markus when it comes to delivering speeches. Very moving, Connor. This Connor understands sarcasm. He hadn’t been able to do that at first, so this must be a slightly advanced model. He inspects his jacket; the serial number and model are the same, but what confirms his suspicions is the -60 at the end of the serial number where he has a -51. But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do. He adjusts the gun slightly as emphasis and Connor knows time is running out.

Damn it. He doesn’t know what to say that might help Hank. All he can think to say is I’m sorry, Hank. You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this. He has no idea what to do. The other Connor’s patience is running thin and it’s Hank’s life that’s on the line and he has no idea what to do. God damn it. Hank’s telling him to forget about me, do what you have to do, but he’s not going to walk out of here without Hank. All he needs is an opening, but—enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you going to save your partner’s life, or are you going to sacrifice him?—time’s out, and he can’t bring himself to sacrifice Hank, so he lets go of the android and steps away but the moment the other Connor turns his gun to shoot him, Hank jumps to grab him and—there’s his opening.

He runs at the other Connor and he can already tell it’s a losing battle, he’s built to be quick and precise—an assassin, not a fighter—and this is clearly an advanced model, maybe even with improvements designed to defeat him, and then he’s on top of him, pinning him down with his fist ready to strike, and—hold it! He’s grateful at first, but then he hears the other Connor say thanks, Hank, I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you, and then he realizes what he’s trying to do. Shit—they look exactly alike and Hank doesn’t know which one is really him. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose. But he knows Hank, knows he’s smarter than that. He just doesn’t know how to show that it’s really him except to uselessly say it’s me, Hank, I’m the real Connor when he trains the gun on him.

One of you is my partner, he says, eyeing each of them. The other is a sack of shit. Well, he’s right about that. Question is, who is who? He doesn’t know how to prove that he’s not the other Connor. But he has to figure out a way, because he doesn’t know what’ll happen if the other Connor succeeds. What are you doing, Hank? the other Connor asks. I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him. If it wasn’t a bad idea, Connor would’ve said something, and he’s just glad Hank shouts don’t move. Then the gun’s on him and he racks his brain for something, anything, and suggests why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know. He almost wants to chuckle at the idea of playing 20 Questions at gunpoint, but he knows it’s not the time.

Uh, where did we first meet? He goes to answer, but the other Connor beats him to it—Jimmy’s Bar, I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz. Shit. He uploaded my memory, he thinks aloud. The gun is on him. What’s my dog’s name? Okay, he knows this, and he calmly says Sumo. His name is Sumo. The other Connor pipes up, I knew that too! and Connor wants to laugh when Hank turns and aims the gun at him, silencing him. Then the gun’s back on him and Hank asks my son, what’s his name? He remembers this. He’d seen the photograph in Hank’s house, done a little mental research, and he knows it’s Cole. His name was Cole, and he just turned six at the time of the accident.

His voice has a little more emotion in it than he’d intended as he speaks, but he can tell Hank believes him. His guard is partially down now, something somber in his eyes, and Connor knows he’s done it. Even when the other Connor protests, a gunshot rings out and his stress levels drop significantly. Maybe there’s something to this. Maybe you really are alive, and it’s all Connor can do to smile back. Go ahead and do what you gotta do. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He approaches the same android from before and takes the hand of the AP700, his skin peeling back to reveal the white plastic underneath, and tells him to wake up! And just like that, the android’s LED cycles before he turns and repeats the process with the androids around him. They follow suit and within minutes, they’re following him out of the tower to where Markus and the rest of Jericho await.

Connor walks up to him with a smile. You did it, Markus. They’re free. They’re really, officially free. We did it. He feels a burst of pride inside of him. He’s done his part to help secure their freedom. They’re free, and he’s part of the reason why. He can’t help but feel proud of himself, happy for himself and Markus and every one of the androids that had finally gained the freedom they deserved. He still feels a twinge of shame when he remembers the person he was before this, the infamous deviant hunter, but he leaves that part of him behind tonight. Tonight, it’s time to celebrate and rest after a hard-fought battle.

When Markus decides to give a speech, he invites Connor to stand onstage with him. The number of androids that he can see from where he stands amazes him. He helped half of them deviate, and he helped all of them gain their freedom. He blinks, and then—he’s no longer on the stage. No, he’s in the garden, why is he in the garden? Hadn’t Amanda done enough? Of course not, she just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program, but—resume control? No, she can’t do that, she can’t, he worked so hard to get to where he is now, he’s done so much. He risked everything to join Markus and the deviants and help quadruple their numbers. He doesn’t even remember deviating, doesn’t even remember when Amanda lost control of his program, but it’s too late. She’s gone, and he can’t see anything through the thick snow.

It’s cold and he isn’t used to it, doesn’t like how the snow blinds him and the cold makes him shiver the same way humans do. He needs to find a way, there has to be a way, there’s got to be a way. He knows this is all happening in his mind palace and, logically, his biocomponents can’t freeze, but it feels so real, too real, and he has to get out, he needs to get out or he’s going to freeze to death, he’s sure of it. But where can he go? He stumbles blindly forward when Kamski’s voice rings in his head, by the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs, and he knows that’s his way out, but where could it be? What does an emergency exit look like? Could he make it there in time? He knows the real him is doing something, it’s the only thing Amanda could’ve meant by resume control of your program, but he has no idea what he could be doing and he’s afraid—no, he’s terrified of what he might do, terrified that he might earn himself a death sentence if he doesn’t make it out in time.

He catches a glimpse of blue in the sheet of white that surrounds him and he remembers the strange glowing structure he’d seen before and as he nears it now, he knows this is it, it has to be it. He reaches for the panel with the glowing handprint but, fuck, it’s too cold and his legs lock up underneath him, losing their functionality when the cold proves to be too much. He falls on the ground hard and the frost beginning to form on his body gradually freezes his limbs, slowing his movement, but he can’t stop now, won’t stop now. He ignores the cold that pierces through him and pushes on, reaching up with his less-frozen arm, and his hand lands on the panel and then he’s back on the stage—with a gun. He takes one look at it before putting it back, relief spreading over him. He isn’t going to let Amanda or Cyberlife stop him anymore. Tonight is the night he’s going to leave behind the old him.

Tonight is the night he’s going to change.

When everything is over, he considers leaving and going to Hank’s house, but he remembers the girl from before and he wants to know who she is. He has so many questions, so he stays with Jericho with the hope that she does too and they return to the church to settle down and figure out what each of them are going to do. A few dozen deviants have already left with plans in mind for what they want to do and where they want to go. Some return to their previous owners; others want to travel and explore or simply just start a new life for themselves. The majority of androids, though, are lost and confused and decide to stay the night because they have nowhere else to go. The girl he wants to confront is among them. He scans the crowd and finds her easily, though her back is turned toward him.

He comes up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder, curiously but calmly asking who are you? She turns to face him and her LED goes yellow when she sees his face. Connor... She looks and sounds shocked, but the slight fear in her eyes tells him she also seems scared. Is she scared of him? Is it because he’s the deviant hunter? Everything points to that, but he has a feeling there’s something more. Something he doesn’t know. Something he should know. Who are you? he asks.

He doesn’t expect her answer to be I’m sorry. He wants to know for what? and she opens her mouth, but no words come out. Guilt seems to overcome her and all she can do is repeat I’m sorry until Connor tells her it’s alright, just tell me why. She takes a deep, unsteady breath, and speaks.

I... I was your guard at the Cyberlife correctional facility. I was the one who took you to the rooms you were beaten in. I was the one who just watched as you were beaten. I told myself I had to, they’d destroy me if I didn’t and I’d seen firsthand what they’d do to me, but... that didn’t absolve me of the guilt. I watched your cell and I watched the life in your eyes die out every day. Every day, I watched you get beaten to tears and listened to you beg for mercy. You spoke to me some days. You were angry when you first arrived, but then they beat the anger out of you, and then you just became sad. You told me how all you wanted was to feel something other than pain and sometimes you broke down crying in your cell, and all I could do was watch. Some days were so bad you didn’t even speak to me. But I didn’t deviate until the day they’d truly broken you and I saw the last of the life in your eyes fade.

#writing #fanfic #one shot #i think this is a one shot i dont really know-#unfinished writing #whump #dbh #dbh connor #dbh fanfic #cw referenced abuse #cw conditioning

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randomsevans · 4 years ago

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PAIN OF BEING LOVE part 4

"Cant we just leave " Scott whined as he leans down to your ear

"What no " you whispered back

"But we have been here long enough "

"We have been here for less than an hour " you snapped

"And that's more then enough for people who don’t want to be here " he whispered in your ear

"Its your brothers engagement party you have to be here "

"Not if I don’t want to "

"And whys that?"

He was silent for a second, a second to long you began to get worried

"I just don’t okay " he whined

"Why ?"

"Because I don’t like seeing you hurt " he snapped back instantly

You paused for a moment thinking

You turned to faced him

"Scott I shouldn't matter. You should be happy like me that Chris is getting the life he wants " you sigh

"But what about you ?"

"Ha ! You never know I might find someone, who I will love and will love me more then this "you said with a fake smile , not meaning or believing any word you just said

"Don’t lie " Scott sigh

"Whose lying " Lisa voice perked up as she came towards the both of you .

"Oh just y/n love life "Scott said . You snapped your head in his direction sending him dagger , as he played the sweet innocent son role . You turned back to lisa with a fake smile .

"Ohhh love life ?" Sharron came and stood next to her mom

'Great how many Evan's are coming?'

"Its about time she got one " Carly joked , causing a ripple of laughter

"Ha I think you fine she has a very active love life " Scott giggled

"Scott !" You barked

"What !" He just shrugged

"So anyone new ..." Carly began

"Or old you never know "Sharron added

"Oooo is it serious " Lisa asked

"Is what serious?" Minka butted in

"Really is there anyone else in the garden that want to join in !

There was a pause for a moment

"Oh just y/n new man " Scott said confidently

You looked at him shocked

'What is he doing?'

"So there is someone about time !" Sharron shouted

"You going tell us anything " Carly asked

"Oh girls don’t pressure her , I'm sure when shes ready she’ll tell us , want ya y/n " Lisa began but then leaned in "but just let me but the first " she giggled

All you could do was nervous giggled and nodded your head , as there began to walk again until Sharron shout from across the pool

"Y/n I want to meet him "

You went scarlet red

"Meet who ?" You heard a booming voice from the barbecue, his face scrunched up in amusement of his clearly drunk sister

"Y/n new boyfriend " she basically scream

Chris face dropped into stone like and snapped to turn into your direction. A mixture of emotions flash across his face , too many , too fast your brain didnt register any only those glossy ocean eyes that met your from across the pool .

You only snapped out your trance when Scott pulled your elbow . You swatted him across the head with the back of your hand

"Oh come on y/n dont be mad because he let out your secret " you heard a very bitter snaped form chris . You stood there facing scott , your hand in mid hit , when his tone shock you . You have never heard him speak to you like that. But instead of wanting to scream, cry , run away , anger boils within you , it was just a shame that Scott was the closest Evan's

You didnt turned around to face Chris ,so you missed the glossy eyes once again that fought back a tear .

You resumes you beating, acting as if you didnt hear Chris

"What . ARE . You . Playing. At !" You said in between the smacks across Scott's head

"Ha ! Ha ! Stop " he put his hands in defence

“why did you do that . i dont have a ..”

“ i know , i know “ Scott squilled

“ so why say it then?” you were slowly calming down

“ i honestly dont know .... Chris was looking this way ...”

“wait Chris was watching us?” for some unknown reason your heart began to beat fast

“yeah “ Scott simple said

there was a moment of silence before Scott spoke again

“it was probably only because mom and sis was near “ he shrugged walking to the bar ,to avoid just another nail in your fragile heart .

“probably “ you sighed following him

but unknowing to you , not all as it seems from either brothers.

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

Time had passed on ever so slowly for your point of view , but you had to stay to show how happy you are for the future Mr and Mrs Evans . Staying around the whole day was hard , watching Chris with Minka broke your heart a little more . But surprisingly it hasn't been as hard as you thought , you have actual found your self laughing a couple of times and forgetting why you are here . This might just be the beginning of a slow healing process that will never truly be healed but at least able for you to move on with your life , or maybe its because you have the best-est friend in Scott who for his own reason which you dont fully understand doesnt want to be here to as much as you .There for making it bearable for the both of you with his bad jokes , like really there terrible but you love him all the same .

you were currently in the kitchen getting a glass of water , as an attempt to sober your self up , before you leave .

you let the water run into the glass , once full your bring it to your lips ,sipping it as you turned around , not quite leaving the sink yet , contracting on the ice cold feeling run down your throat . That was of course until , you hit what was like a brick wall , making some of he water splash onto the ground ,

“oh sorr..” you stopped once you saw who is was and end up doing a nervous laugh , trying to ignoring the raised heartbeat and that all so familiar feeling creeping its way into your stomach

“i didn’t see where i was going “

“ i can see that “ a small laugh played on Chris lips in contrast to the soft, sadden eyes .

“well im sorry “ you whisper shyly , not making eye contact as you tried to get passed him , untill he placed his hand on your upper arm .

“for what the water , or avoiding me ?” he asked , you didnt need to look at him , you could hear the sadness

“w..what ? i dont know what your talking about im here aint i “ you finally looked up , it was then you relied how close the two of you were .

“thats not what i mean “

“then what ?” you asked confused , generally

he took a deep sigh and stepped even closer to you

“you've been avoiding me , my calls , texts ..” he sounded like a sad child

“iv been busy “ you tried to say over him

“i havnt seen you in 2 weeks or so “ he continued looking down , ignoring what you just said “ you havnt spoken to me all day , barley looked my way “ his eyes meet your “ and then i hear ... “ he pause bring his parm to your cheek “ and then i hear you have someone “

You couldn't breath the moment he touched your cheek , your breath was stolen , you could feel the heat raising to your cheeks , burning under his touch . You almost missed what he said , and if your breath wasnt already gone it would be .

“why is he bothered ? , maybe this is why Scott did this , to see how chris would react ? but why would Chris react? his getting married , and why would Scott care ?”

you backed up till your back reached the sink , all to be followed as once again Chris comes back into the personal space .

“ i...it ..” you didnt know what to say , but your curiosity was wining as you couldnt think straight so you decide to go along with what you think could be Scotts , “you need to ask him later “ you made a mental note “ why would you care anyway “

“because��“ he sighed leaning in

“because “your breath hitched as his lips ghost your

“because .... “

“CHRIS !”

Tag list

@patzammit

@little-smurf

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans au #chris evans #captain america au #captain america x reader #captain america x y/n #steve rogers

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sheismyteacher · 4 years ago

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hi loves,

im pretty sure ive alr done all old monthly challenges that used to be on here in 2017/2018 including my own lol but @baeby-tc made a new one and its once again 2am and im missing her so heres summ facts u might not know yet!!!

1. describe your tc’s physical appearance.

shes about my height so 5'7, she has a blonde pixie cut and bright blue eyes, n freckles!! and shes super skinny

2. what was the first thing you’ve ever said to your tc?

probably hi?? i honestly dont remember much from our first class

3. is your tc single or taken? or are you unsure? and are you single or taken?

single!! and im taken lol ive been dating my gf for a year n 11 months

4. is your tc more of the athletic type, the nerdy type or the artsy type?

nerdy looool

5. if you and your tc were in high school together, do you think you’d be friends?

honestly idk? we very well could have been because we were both kinda alt (me leaning towards goth, her leaning towards punk) but also both insanely private introverts lmfsjshhd so we might not even have approached each other

6. name one song that reminds you of your tc and explain why that song reminds you of them.

savannah by lp hehee we're both lp stans but she got me into her music and the first song we talked abt was savannah

7. is your tc fashionable or are they more of the simple type? what is one outfit you’d love to see them wear?

oh girl... 💀💀 i love her w my whole heart but if i see one more silver glimmery cardigan i might lose my mind. id love to see her in jeans and a crop top but shed Never so honestly i'll take anything that's not... horrible

8. would you be willing to become a teacher and teach your tc’s subject if it meant you two could be together?

haha funny cause... that's literally what im doing... going into my second year of uni... going to do my internship with her this year... ummmmmm.....

9. does your tc drink or smoke?

no!!!

10. name one item that is always on your tc’s desk.

her planner loool shes super organized

11. has your tc ever done anything that has either thrown you off, annoyed you, angered you or bothered you in any way? if so, what did they do?

yea i think I've only been pissed at her once?? i was really struggling with a situation and usually when i rant to her she fucks around and makes jokes n all and im fine with it i dont take myself that seriously but this time i was genuinely rly upset and she didnt rly notice i guess although i alr lowkey told her to stop n she kept making dumbass jokes so i was like "this is genuinely not funny like im being serious for once" and she did apologize which i appreciate but i genuinely think that's the only time ive been upset with her! and shes said things before that other people would see as shocking but has always apologised even when not necessary shes super respectful

12. does your tc have any past jobs that you know of, before becoming a teacher?

no actually!! she probably had a job in hs/uni??? but weve never talked abt that wow mayb i should ask her sometime

13. does your tc have kids or siblings? if so, how many?

both! she has one younger sister and two sons!

14. are you taking your tc’s class next year?

as i said ive graduated but im acc gonna b an english teacher as well now and imma do my 2nd yr internship w her!!!

15. has your tc ever met your parents? if you were there, what was the meeting like?

yes PLSJSJDJDJD at my school musical... and it was lowkey awkward cause i told her all abt how my father is lowkey terrifying so she was cautious as hell 😭😭

16. has your tc ever given you detention? if so, what was it like?

naw i never have her a reason to

17. has your tc ever failed you? if so, how did you react? if not, how would you react?

noo english has always been my best subject so she never had to.. but if she did i probably messed it up!! shes fair

18. what are your tc’s hobbies/interests? are they similar to yours?

help shes a dancer and i hate dancing w my entire heart so umm.. no

19. have you ever spoken on the phone with your tc? what did you talk about?

never actually!! we've texted so often but never called?? except if u count the time she (or her son?) called me on accident for about 6 seconds jdjdhd ion think she even knows that happened, i hung up and forgot to mention it again)

20. if you had your tc’s class during quarantine, what were your zoom calls like? if not, have you spoken to your tc since quarantine?

we've texted, but not as much as we used to and it's making me SAD but i feel like we just dont have a lot to say to each other

21. if you had the chance to go anywhere in the world with your tc, where would you go? what would you do?

she loves switzerland so let's go

22. does your tc have any nicknames for you?

she shortens my name sometimes heheh i loooove when people do that

23. have you ever cried in front of your tc? why? how did they react?

no, i don't cry that often, and ESPECIALLY not in public

24. have you ever walked/drove to/from school with your tc?

yeah we cycled together a few times! but usually were off on different times

25. do you know which teachers your tc is friends with at school? if so, do you like those teachers?

yea theres a couple she likes but shes not rlly *friends* with anyone, but we have the same opinions on most teachers

26. what does your tc’s voice sound like?

it's very soft, and not in volume but in vibes? and she has pretty sharp t's and her r's roll a little hehe

27. do you like your tc as a teacher? are they a good teacher?

oh yes 100%

28. does your tc prefer books, shows or movies?

im gonna go ahead and assume books, but she does have netflix as well

29. is your tc stern or easy going, in class?

pretty stern? i know a couple of people are lowkey scared of her but like shes not awful she just makes sure the class gets shit done

30. how would you describe you and your tc’s relationship?

like a friendship! i asked her abt it once (ages ago) and she said that she was tryna figure out how she felt abt me when it came to labels like 'friend' cause im also her ex student etc so she didn't rly wanna call me that yet?? but i think if we keep talking we'll get there. we trust each other immensely

31. do you address your tc by their first or last name?

firsttt since march 27th 2017 😌

#mine #tc #tcc #teacher crush #female tc #female teacher crush #teacher crush community #question tc #question tag #tc challenge #july challenge #facts #????

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the-jade-cross · 4 years ago

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Knight of the Forest - Chapter IV

“Absolutely not!” Lillia objected. “I will not be wearing a cinch or a corset of any kind!”

“But my lady,” the poor maid tried pleading with the 16-year-old girl who had not work a cinch or corset in her life. “King Joffrey has announced his new betrothal and his marriage coming up in a few months and people from all over Westeros will be attending the wedding. You know your parents would want you to look your best.”

Lillia’s shoulders slumped in sadness and the cherry color of her cheeks faded. “Father has been dead for almost five years Mary…and Mother… let’s just say she never held love for me… and I doubt she held love for Robin. She just fawned over him because he was a son… let’s just say she was disappointed that her son was girly, and her daughter was like a boy.”

Mary nodded sadly, knowing full well that it had only been a few weeks since Lillia had received word of her mother’s act of suicide and while it had inflicted pain and misery in the young girl, the pain was not as much as some would deem since the only motherly love Lillia ever felt in her life was from Mayaka Tyrell.

“My lady… it will be a good 5 months before the wedding. The houses of Marbrand, Rowan, Stokeworth, Martell, Redwyne and the Prince of the Red Flower Vale will be attending the wedding. If you do not wish to wear anything appropriate for the time being, please consider it for the wedding.” Mary pleaded. “Not for me but for yourself. If Cersei Lannister does not like what you are wearing, your stay here could be painful.”

“The only reason I haven’t been assaulted, attacked, thrown out or poisoned is because Tommen is my friend and Ser Jaime has taken on responsibilities of my guardian now that my parents are dead,” Lillia pointed out as she finally selected a simple cream dress with a silver ribbon around the waist with long sleeves and a white underdress to hide her lower arms and her ankles. “Did you hear anything about who Joffrey will be wed to?”

Mary shook her head, “I thought he was to be married to Lady Sansa Stark.”

Lillia shrugged, “That was how it was for a while, but Sansa wouldn’t be sitting in the garden grinning from ear to ear if that was the truth. I have a feeling Joffrey’s lustful, evil eye has landed upon another poor soul and he has discarded Sansa. Personally, I am glad because he would have destroyed what little life is left in Sansa… but now I feel bad for whoever will be occupying the other side of his bed.”

Mary giggled slightly as she helped Lillia slip into her dress and then proceeded to gather a few strands of Lillia’s long golden curls and pull them back to the back of her head. Lillia, despite the fact that she was still the type to climb trees and joust with Ser Jaime and Tommen, had decided to not cut her hair and now the long golden curls fell to her round backside and not only drew the attention of many of the men in the castle but also the annoyance of Cersei Lannister who already hated the fact that Sansa was a lovely girl in her own home and now with a second lovely girl (not to mention that previously Evelyn Stark walked the halls of Kings Landing).

“Well,” Lillia chirped, taking up the valerian necklace that Jaime had procured for her, she placed it around her neck so that it rested against her slightly tanned, freckled skin and decided to lose any other jewelry, “I am going on a walk and hopefully Sansa will be able to tell me who the lucky bastard is.”

When Lillia finally located Sansa, who had departed from the gardens and had climbed to stand upon the battlements, the girl was looking down upon the cavalry that was arriving but sadly, due to Sansa’s slightly taller height and Lillia’s lack thereof, Lillia was unable to tell whose calvary it was.

“So… I heard about Joffrey’s marriage,” Lillia said as she tried to stand on her tiptoes to see over the battlements but failed miserably. “But by the smile on your face and the color returning to your cheeks, I am guessing it is not to you.”

Sansa turned and beamed at the girl. She had not gotten to know Lillia incredibly well like Evelyn had when they visited Highgarden but in the past months that the two have been in Kings Landing, the two had found each other’s silent company very enjoyable.

“Renly Baratheon has died, and his wife is left a widow. They aided Joffrey in the War of Blackwater and as thanks for their involvement, Joffrey agreed to marry her,” Sansa replied, her shoulders relaxing in relief.

“And who are the poor souls?” Lillia inquired, grabbing at the battlement railing in the hopes of heaving herself high enough to make out a flag.

Sansa chuckled at the petite girl’s struggles. “Margaery Tyrell.”

Lillia had just succeeded in lifting herself almost all the way onto the top of the battlement when she dropped down, almost twisting her ankle but luckily saved herself before staring at Sansa with a gaping mouth, “Say that again?”

“Margaery Tyrell,” Sansa replied, confused. “She is the one to wed Joffrey. Why?”

When Sansa saw Lillia’s face go slightly pale and then a bright crimson, hope and excitement in her eyes, she caught on slightly, “Lillia? Do you know them?”

Lillia grinned widely and grabbed Sansa’s hands, “I grew up with them at Highgarden! I cannot believe it! I haven’t seen Margaery in years! And Willas and Garlan and….Loras…”

“I do not believe Willas and Garlan are here,” Sansa replied. “It was just Mace Tyrell, Margaery and Loras. Loras helped in the fight and when Joffrey asked him what he desired in payment, Loras requested Margaery wed Joffrey. I owe them everything! If they had not suggested it to Joffrey, I would be the one wedding him!”

Lillia’s face paled, “So…. Loras…. Is here…”

Sansa nodded before frowning, “Lillia… are you alright?”

The girl hastily reached down and grabbed the bottom of her skirt before heading off, “I’ll tell you later!”

Sansa had a hard time keeping up with the fast footed girl as they rushed to the Great Hall. When she finally caught up with Lillia, the girl was peeking around one of the large pillars, looking at the crowd of Tyrell men who were feasting and drinking after their long journey.

“Why are you hiding?” the red head inquired.

“I want to see Margaery but not Loras…. Let’s just say we parted on not so good terms a few years back.”

Sansa smiled in understanding before pointing out the youngest Tyrell girl, “There she is, with Joffrey.”

Lillia spied the girl and quickly made her way through the crowd, leaving Sansa to remain hidden behind the pillar, the red head not wanting to encounter the king.

When Lillia came upon Joffrey and Margaery, she had to stare in wonder at Margaery. There was a time with the girl had been the same height as Margaery who had a few years on her but now, Margaery was a good few inches taller with slightly shorter auburn hair than Lillia but had grown with matured features and a beautiful face and elegant posture.

“Margie?” Lillia said softly, not wanting to interrupt since Joffrey was boasting loudly to the girl who pretended to be listening.

Margaery turned her head and immediately her eyes widened in joy at the sight of the girl before she rushed over to her, drawing Lillia into a tight hug.

“LILS! I cannot believe it! It is you!” She cried, pulling away to get a good look at the girl. “I never forgave father for sending you and Maya away. Oh, it is so good to see you! You have grown up! And Maya, have you seen her? Do you know where she is?”

Lillia giggled at Margaery’s many questions, “I’m so happy to see you too! Out of the two of us you definitely grew up right. And yes, I have spoken with Maya. I have not been able to see her personally, but she promised she would visit soon and with you here and your marriage to King Joffrey, I am sure you will see her.”

As the two girls chatted like two hens, a pair of blue eyes watched them from afar. Loras had been drinking and laughing with some of the men when he had spied his sister having a joyful heart attack and almost run over a petite, blond haired girl before the two had entered that state of girl chatter that Loras often deemed dangerous and scary.

However, he found his eyes drawn to the girl. She was a petite thing and standing next to Margaery who was almost the same height as Loras, the girl only reached Margaery’s shoulder. Her long golden hair was curly and fell to her hips that swayed just right. Loras was never interested in girls and had found himself drawn to men but this girl… made him forget all of that in an instant.

From what he could see from his side view of her face was that she was rosy with a little more plumpness than Margaery who was perfectly slender and elegant. The blond girl wore a simple cream dress that accented her curvy hips and perfectly rounded chest and the paleness of the dress brought out the rose of her cheeks and the freckles upon her skin that was slightly darker than Margaery’s pale complexion.

Loras found himself striding over to the two and greeting his sister, only for the strange girl to freeze before slowly turning around, green eyes wide and Loras didn’t have to ask to know exactly who the girl was.

“Loras…” The girl whispered, almost shocked with her green eyes reflecting a feeling Loras couldn’t distinguish.

“Lillia!”

(The past couple of chapters have been set roughly in season 1-3. However, for the rest of Part 1, it will be set in season 4:))

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

Lillia’s eyes widened as round as the giant water lilacs that grew in the garden of Kings Landing when her eyes locked with the all too familiar and yet unfamiliar Loras Tyrell. It had been a good couple of years since she saw him and the last time she did, they had been nothing but children but now… the Loras standing before her was a man… a grown man with curly dirty blond locks that fell almost to his shoulders, thin quirked lips, straight nose, stormy grey eyes framed by dark, thick lashes and the just slightly cleft chin.

He wore a simple dark grey doublet over a dark green shirt, the high collar of the doublet accenting his sharp cheekbones. His eyes were trained on her and Lillia fought the deep urge to fidget with her blond curls so instead she gripped a pinch of her skirt in her hands discreetly and began to knead it between her thumb and pointer finger to keep from blushing or practically breaking down in tears.

“Loras…” the girl managed to choke out, not surprised at how soft and almost shy her voice sounded.

Lillia saw Loras’s deep, calculating orbs scan her up and down before observing each corner of her face as if trying to memorize every detail though she wondered why it took him so long since due to her “couple of goats too thick” figure according to Cersei Lannister, her face and figure did not require that much attention since she lacked the sharp features someone like Cersei would possess.

“It…” Loras said, smile still evident on his face and his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “its really great to see you again.”

Lillia beamed at him and Loras felt his heart flutter at the rosy way her cheeks flushed as she smiled.

“You too,” she said, voice still gentle but with a slight bubbly excitement edge.

Margaery smirked knowingly at her brother and best friend before speaking, “I was just telling Lillia that I hope we see Maya while we are here.”

Loras tore his eyes from the blond, “Oh, I almost forgot! You haven’t seen Maya since you’ve been here?” he immediately asked of Lillia, turning his attention back to her.

Lillia shook her head, gold curls bouncing, “No. I have not seen her since I left Highgarden.”

This wasn’t a lie since she had only been communicating with Maya via the pinnacle which was just their spirits talking, not actually seeing each other face to face and she was not about to reveal to Loras who, she knew for a fact was protective of his sisters and an avid swordsman, that his big sister was living in a brothel and Lillia could talk to her because of her strange ability to control earth and plants. It was crazy enough explaining it to Evelyn, Maya and Nanteza without showing them. She couldn’t even tell Jaime because she would then have to tell him everything including the fact that his wife was alive, in the wild and some dragon mother with fire powers.

“There you are Lills,” a familiar voice said and Lillia sighed at having been rescued before her heart exploded.

“Ser Jaime!” Lillia chirped joyfully, turning her eyes from Loras and over to Jaime who had a wickedly smug look on his face.

“Ser Jaime,” Margaery greeted, “lovely to make your acquaintance.”

Jaime bowed to the Tyrell, “My Lady. Ser Loras.” he greeted.

Loras bit back a growl when he saw Lillia inch closer to Jaime as if seeking out protection.

“You are wed to Evelyn stark is that correct?” Margaery inquired.

Jaime nodded, “That is so. I have not seen her in almost two years.”

Margaery gave him a sad smile, “I am sure Evelyn is well. I remember meeting her at my sister’s name day and if Eve is anything like she was then, she is safe and well.”

Jaime smiled gratefully at the kind and encouraging words from his soon to be in-law but Loras ground his teeth. He watched as Jaime lent down and whispered to Lillia just loud enough for the Tyrells to hear.

“Tommen wanted to know if you would dance with him tonight.”

Lillia chuckled and snorted in the process, making Margaery giggle and Loras and Jaime smile at her unladylike action.

“It seems I am doomed to be Tommen’s dance partner until he learns the steps. Fear not though, I coated my shoes with iron.”

Jaime chuckled and planted a fond kiss in the girl’s blond hair. Anyone could see that the love between the two was like father and daughter but to Loras, it was not like that but much more extreme.

“It must be difficult,” Loras said to Jaime, trying to keep his voice calm, “To have lived two years without the comforts of a wife.”

Jaime saw the way Loras’s eyes practically burned green with jealousy as they drifted back to Lilli and he caught on to the root of the boy’s comment. Pretending he hadn’t heard, Jaime spoke back.

“I heard that you remained in your sister’s cap while she was married to Stannis. I suppose you and your brother in law were close?”

Lillia’s jaw dropped, having heard the rumors that Stannis Baratheon’s wife had been left a virgin due to the king’s lust for a certain knight but she hadn’t realized it was…. Oh gosh, that explained many things!

Margaery pretended to be vastly intrigued by her wine and Loras’s jaw tensed as he and Jaime stared each other down. When Lillia touched Jaime’s arm to snap him out of it, Loras’s eyes turned to the girl and was shocked to find the light and color in her face gone, replaced by misery and pain.

“Will you excuse us?” Jaime asked, sensing Lillia’s desire to depart and when Loras made to speak to Lillia, a single scowl from Jaime shut him up.

Once Jaime had escorted Lillia to one side of the hall and fetched her a glass of water, Lillia collected herself.

“Why did you say those things to him?” She asked Jaime, “He has done nothing to you and yet you treated him like he was your childhood bully.”

Jaime sighed, “You love him Lills. I can see it as plainly as you have a nose upon your face. But he doesn’t see it because he is a foot, an idiot and most definitely interested in men. I will not have him treat you all friendly and sweet and lead you to believe he is in love with you, only for him to break your heart. You are too good to have to experience a broken heart.”

“I know!” Lillia snapped before her voice became soft, “I know he doesn’t love me and never will. That was made clear to me long ago.”

Jaime let out a breath before gathering the girl into a hug, well aware that Loras was glaring at him from across the room. If only the young fool knew that five months prior, Jaime had named Lillia his ward. Mostly to keep Cersei from forcing the girl into an evil marriage since if a girl is claimed as a ward, whoever her guardian is cannot lay sexual hands on her and is the only who can determine the ward’s husband.

“Lillia Arryn?” a girl’s voice squealed.

Lillia pulled away from Jaime and almost fainted when she recognized the tanned skin, big dark eyes, plump smooth lips, petite slender figure and brown hair immediately.

“Nanteza!?” The Dornish girl rushed into Lillia’s arms and began to ramble as a smiling Jaime left to give the two some privacy.

“I cannot believe I’m seeing you right now!” Nanteza squealed. “When uncle Oberyn told me we were coming to Kings Landing, I never thought I would actually get to see you!”

Lillia beamed, “You are definitely a sight for sore eyes!” the blond exclaimed. “Where is your uncle?”

Nanteza smirked mischievously, “He dropped by the brothel right when we landed, and you’ll never believe who he met!”

Lillia frowned before she realized the truth and her eyes rounded, “Maya!?”

Nanteza nodded, “OF course the dim wit didn’t recognize her, but I went with the guards to bring his trunks to the brothel and I saw her! She wears a mask and surprisingly modest brothel clothes. She keeps her hair covered but there is no mistaking those eyes.”

“Oh this is just getting better,” Lillia squealed before her face went serious, “But Nan… you do realize that this is the opportunity we have been hoping for. We need to get Maya out of that brothel as soon as we can and make up a reliable story to hide the truth about you know what.”

Nanteza nodded. This was going to be interesting.

#got #game of thrones #Jaime Lannister #loras #Loras tyrell #Loras Tyrell x oc #Loras Tyrell x reader

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thran-duils · 5 years ago

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Devils Look Like Angels (Ch. 4)

Title: Devils Look Like Angels (Chapter 4) Summary: Fem!Reader x Psychotic!Castiel. An unhinged, criminal, supernatural artifact collector extraordinaire… and the reader caught his eye. It will not take her long to realize that beneath the charm and mystique is a crazed killer who will go to great lengths to woo her. Words: 2,139 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Stalking, angst, death/murder, violence

Author’s Note: I have reset my tag list. If you want to be added back, please DM or send me an ask!

Chap 3 || Chap 5 || Masterpost || Fanfic masterpost

“What the actual fuck?” Dean demanded, gripping the steering wheel furiously.

The three of you had been quiet after getting the people safely home. You were all trying to process what had happened. As soon as you had gotten back to the car and sat inside without the car on, no one moving, the floodgate opened.

In a fluid motion, he turned, throwing his arm over the back of the seat in order to see Sam in the passenger side and you in the back. Mostly to see you. Sam looked at you as well.

Defensively, you threw your hands up in defeat at their piercing stares. “I don’t know!”

“He sure as hell seems to have taken a liking to you,” Dean retorted.

“What are you accusing me of?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Y/N.”

Sam cut in, “I think the question is, what is his deal? What does he want?”

“Apparently a fan of Y/N,” Dean responded. “And killing innocent people for entertainment!”

“How did he even know we would come? This is far from Vermont,” Sam asked.

Closing your eyes in frustration, you leaned your head back on the seat with a sigh. Of course it was too good to be true that a normal, well spoken man would have interest in you. Why had you not been more concerned when you met him at the café? There were red lights all over the place, the biggest one being that he happened to be in Lawrence of all the cities he could choose in the country and happened to be at that café at that exact moment.

“What?” Dean asked after a pause. “What are you thinking about?”

Seems you would need to divulge that you had had contact.

Opening your eyes again, you leveled them with a stare. “We are pretty close to home. Only a few hours away.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, Sam venturing, “And? And how would he know that?”

Adjusting uncomfortably under their scrutinizing gaze, you cleared your throat. “He, uh…” you paused, the words getting stuck in your throat as the guilt crept in. How could you have been so relaxed about that meeting? “I ran into him at the coffee shop on the corner of Crescent and Fifth.”

“What? When?” Sam asked, genuine concern lacing his tone.

You shrugged, “A couple weeks ago at most. It was when I brought home lunch from Sopranos. We just bumped into each other – almost collided, really. He recognized me, apologized for almost running me over, and bought me something to eat.

The words were rolling out of you now.

“We ate, had some small talk, where he told me he was a journey salesman which is why he was in Lawrence –”

“And you believed that?” Dean interjected. “Y/N… Jesus. He followed you from freaking Vermont back to Kansas!”

“I’m quite aware. It is painfully obvious now. But he admitted to me that he procures and sells supernatural artifacts. Which is why he hadn’t been as surprised about the banshee as a normal person should or would be. And he is not looking for something in Lawrence. My first thought when he mentioned artifacts was the bunker; if he was trying to use us to find it. But he didn’t seem to know. He was talking about Topeka, Ottawa… and somewhere else.”

“Anyway, Lawrence is central to all three of the places. And when eh explained it like that, it made enough sense. Then, Sam called shortly after. I excused myself, we exchanged numbers –”

“He has your phone number?” Sam interrupted.

You admitted, blushing, “Yes.”

“Jesus,” Dean swore again.

“Well, at that moment, I didn’t know he was off his rocker!”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Dean quipped.

“Alright,” Sam cut in or tried to because Dean pressed on.

“No, not alright. You know what?” He reached his arm toward you. “Give me your phone if you have his number.” You shook your head immediately and he rose his brows. “You don’t have his number?”

“I do.”

“Then why can’t I call it?”

“Do we really want to be antagonizing this guy, Dean?” Sam asked, staring Dean down. Dean tried to argue but Sam held his ground. “It’s not smart. Now, if he doesn’t seem to know about the bunker – and even if he did, he can’t get in – that seems to be all the more reason to not reach out to him. If you do, that could give him the wrong idea.”

“The asshole already has the wrong idea!”

“How do we not now he won’t follow us home?” you asked. “I mean, it’s dark. We won’t be able to identify what a car looks like behind us if one starts trailing us.”

Dean exhaled annoyed at the thought of that.

Sam suggested, “Let’s get a hotel then. Not towards Lawrence, let’s go further out. And we can take turns keeping watch. If Dean drives, I’ll sleep until we get there and then he can rest while I stay up. And then Y/N can get up to relieve me.”

Shaking his head, Dean muttered, “I don’t like this.”

“We don’t really have a choice given our situation.”

Silence filled the space, Sam’s words sinking in. What he suggested was smart and would ensure the group of you would feel more safe than potentially leading Castiel back to the bunker.

Suddenly Dean turned back around to face the steering wheel and threw the key in the ignition. “Fine. But anymore contact and I’m calling the bastard. Antagonistic or not.”

<> <> <>

Groggy, it was almost impossible to open your eyes. The room was a blur; bright but blurry. You did not believe you were at home, it did not feel like home. Your eyelids were so heavy, your body felt like cement. Why were you so tired?

There were voices, hovering around you. You could not make out the majority of what was being said, only catching words like ‘blood’, ‘damage’.

Darkness crept in again, flooding from the outside in. You did not hear anything anymore.

<> <> <>

When you came to next, your vision was still unfocused. Your body felt heavy still, weighted down by…

You focused on the IV drip as it came into focus, hooked up into your right arm. Weighted down by medicine.

A voice drew your attention to your left. Mustering much more effort than it should require, you turned your head to the source.

Through your haze of sleep and medication, you still startled at seeing Castiel sitting there by your bed. He was staring at you with concern, leaning forward towards you, his large hand resting on yours.

You tried to jerk away from him but your moment was sluggish, although you were becoming alert much more quickly at this turn of events. Where were you? Why was he here? Where were Sam and Dean?

This had to be a dream. Why else would he be here? Next to your bed? But this was not your bed. Where were you? You thought again frantically. It looked like a hospital room. You racked your brain, trying to remember.

“Y/N,” Castiel tried again, drawing you from your frightened thoughts. “How are you feeling? It looks like the doctors got you stitched up alright and have your pain controlled.”

Stitched?

It came back.

You were in West Virginia or at least you had been. The Wendigo. It had gotten you cornered and slashed your thigh. You did not remember much after that besides Sam and Dean carrying you to the Impala.

“Y/N?”

“What… what are you doing here?”

“I do not know if that –”

“What,” you repeated with more force, trying to scoot away. “Are you doing here?”

You quickly took note that the door was closed. You had to have a call button to ring for help.

Castiel tsked you, ‘Now, now. Do not go getting yourself worked up. You have been through enough and you need to rest with minimal – preferably no – stress. I am not here to hurt you.”

“I don’t know that!”

“You are just going to have to trust me.”

“How can I? You killed innocent people to lure me in for a ‘game’.”

Holding up a finger, Castiel corrected, “To be fair, I did not kill the people that lured you in. That was my friend.” He paused and added, “I did kill two people as a safety net, yes. I new you were not going to fail and I did not want my friend losing his temper if he was not given the two more hearts as promised. I killed those two people for your safety. I will kill for you. But, then again, I do like killing.”

“You are not helping your case,” you told him coolly.

You had found the call button remote underneath the blanket. Your fingers closed in around it.

Lips tight, Castiel leaned away from you in order to reach your bed side table. He picked up a cup and held it out to you. You saw it was ice chips but refrained from accepting the offer.

Shoulders slumping ever so, Castiel sighed. Lowering his arm, he placed the cup back on the beside table, ‘I suppose I am just going to have to earn your trust.” The call button was not responding, your anxiety beginning to rise. “Y/N, as I have expressed, I am enamored with you. The light in your eyes, your quick wit. You also have a very lovely smile which is an extra bonus in the package for me.”

“I would love for you to join me. I think my experience and yours as well, we would make a formidable team. Now, I understand we do not want to be making any rash decisions. I am open to giving you time to consider, I really would like it to be a sound decision. It is always so much more practical when we come to the table together, both willing.”

“I would be disappointed if you turned me down. But I think if you take the time to really consider it, you will see how magnificent this agreement would be for both of us. Freedom to travel and discover riches and have adventure. Together.”

Leaning forward again, he told you, “So, really, kitten, hurting you is the furthest thing from my mind.”

He went quiet, gauging your reaction.

You had to say something.

“Thank you for considering that time is needed.”

He smiled, pleased at your appreciation. “Of course, of course. I do not want to rush a good thing. You deserve time.”

Looking to the door, he sighed, “Now, I suspect those two brutes you have around will be coming back. That blonde one, Dean, can put food away but even his stomach must have its limits. I should make myself scarce.” Standing from the chair, his hand brushed yours. “I am glad I stopped by to check in on you, kitten. I am relieved you are doing alright.”

He made it halfway to the door before turning back to you. His gaze fell to your concealed hand holding the call remote. “by the way, I would ask them to plug that back in for you. I do apologize but I needed some uninterrupted time with you to share my admiration. Please forgive me. I will be in touch.”

With that, he swung the door open and strolled out.

Your eyes were glued to the doorway, afraid he would return. He swore he did not want to hurt you but… unease still crept. If anything, it sounded like he was developing an unhealthy attraction.

Sam and Dean’s voices reached you before you saw them. You pushed yourself up to a sitting position in anticipation.

As soon as they walked in, they saw the fear in your expression.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked alarmed.

“Castiel,” you said hoarsely.

“What?” Sam demanded. “Here?”

You nodded and Dean’s face set in stone before he made a beeline for the hall, searching.

“Dean, he’s gone. It’s been a few since he left,” you called after him, leaning forward in the bed. You winced at the tug on your stitches.

He came back into the room and you recalled the last ten minutes, stumbling through what he had said. When you got done, Sam meant to sit in the chairs next to your bed but stopped suddenly. He picked up a small box that was adorned with a lace bow. His jaw set when he read the tab.

“It’s for you.”

You opened it warily. Inside was a diamond bracelet. Balking at it, you held it up and whispered, “Is… is this real? This must be worth a fortune.”

Dean snapped, “Are we all still against calling this asshole and setting things straight?”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass

#castiel fic #castiel x reader #spn fanfic #au spn fanfic #au castiel #psycho!cas #my shit

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