#when I should feel sad that she’s dealing with something that causes nausea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

helgabatwrittings · 3 years ago

Text

When your world comes crashing down don't cry

His mind kept racing between everything he had learned. It was all he could think about lately. Alya and Nino are Rena Rouge and Carapace. They know about each other. Ladybug knows that they know. Ladybug was the one who gave that secret away. Ladybug didn’t tell him. Because they must keep their identities a secret. And they all think he is annoying. That’s why Ladybug doesn’t tell him anything. Because Chat Noir is annoying, and he can’t be trusted.

AO3

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

Pretending everything was okay was becoming the most strenuous task each day.

Especially when one hasn’t slept for almost a week.

A week…

A week has passed ever since Nino told him just how annoying he was. It made sense actually, the more he thought about it, the clearer it got.

Adrien was annoying, that was a fact, he has always been like that and that is why his father never wanted to spend time with him, it was why his parents have never let him go to school, they always said they were protecting him, and now Adrien knew exactly why…

They just did not want him to realise how bothersome he was.

It was why Ladybug�� why she-

Prrrrr Prrrrrr Prrrrrr

The alarm interrupted his jumbled thoughts. Adrien sighed. Getting out of bed was also becoming the most strenuous task each day.

“Are you going to turn that off so I can proceed to sleep?? I was in the middle of eating this amazing piece of camembert” Plagg grumbled, his nasal voice still thick with sleep.

Adrien turned to his side and with a heavy hand, he grabbed his phone and turned off the alarm, the missed texts from Nino not going unnoticed. He just couldn’t find any strength to engage in any conversation his best friend was starting. Not that it mattered anyway, he would probably only bother him and then Nino would just get sick of him just like everyone else did. Just like Nino already had with Chat Noir. And Adrien didn’t want that. Adrien would never want that. He had lost too many people already, so he might as well try to save the few relationships he still has, even if he must keep them at arm’s length. It’s still better than nothing, right? Even if that crushing void of loneliness was growing inside him every day.

It was with an increasing effort that Adrien finally managed to get out of the bed, his limbs feeling like lead. He walked to his bathroom, not noticing the black blob staring right at him with downcast eyes and dropped ears.

After going through his usual routine, Adrien just stood in front of his mirror checking for any imperfection that might put him in trouble, like he did every day. A paler, skinnier version of himself looked right back at him with heavy dark bags under vacant eyes. His lower, chapped lip trembled slightly, but he quickly managed to get a hold of it, the same couldn’t be said for the lump that had settled itself in his throat for a couple of days now. Adrien suddenly broke eye contact and fumbling through the top drawer, without really looking at it, without really looking at anything, he finally felt the familiar shape of his concealer. And with a professional mannerism, he applied it on every imperfection, carefully moulding that sickly looking boy in the mirror into the face of the Gabriel brand.

Breakfast was, once again, all by himself, and Plagg of course, but he had to remain hidden in case anyone was to suddenly enter the dining room. For some reason, Adrien kept staring at the main door to the room, still hoping that his father would appear just to spend some time with him before school, but as usual, no one interrupted the suffocating silence that was becoming more and more unbearable each day. He even found himself hoping that Nathalie would appear, in all her stoic presence, with her tablet in hand to inform him of his schedule, even though he was perfectly aware that she was currently bedridden for some mysterious illness everyone was trying to hide from him.

He missed Nathalie, he still heard her every day through the tablet, but it wasn’t the same. At some point, his mum would only speak to him through a tablet when she got so sick she couldn’t leave her bed, and no one dared to explain to him what was happening.

The sight of his food got blurry as Adrien blinked back the tears that were threatening to escape. He took a deep shaking breath to fight the nauseating wave that crushed him. Once again, his appetite was absent, he sneaked the cheese under the table for Plagg and with that, Adrien went to the car, to start another day.

School was… School used to be the highlight of his everyday life, it was finally something Adrien had fought for and won. His first ticket to freedom. School gave him a chance to finally live in the real world, outside the four massive walls that made up his bedroom, and that for the longest time, had been his whole world. But now it just seemed pointless.

For the first time since he started attending public school, Adrien was actually feeling on edge at the idea of going there and meet his friends. His stomach was constricting itself, accentuating the ever-present nausea that had settled since that day, and the feeling seemed to worsen at each kilometre the car got closer to the building.

Do they also think Adrien is annoying? Do they also rant about him behind his back? Is that why Marinette doesn’t seem to stand being around him for too long? They have talked about it, and she assured him that they were friends. Marinette has done a lot to help him, like convincing his father to let him go to New York. But again, she does help everyone she knows. Of course, she would help him, even if she finds him annoying. Marinette is that nice.

How should he act around them? The knot on his stomach was becoming unbearable. How was it that he was feeling hot and cold at the same time? That there was this electric sensation running all over his body and making the tips of his fingers go all fuzzy, while his chest was beginning to burn as well. The lump on his throat was making it hard to breathe, no matter how much Adrien gasped for breath, it seemed that no air was reaching his lungs, which were blazing with the effort. Oh, God! Is this how he’s going to die? At the back of his father’s limo, on his way to school? His face felt wet for some reason. Was he crying? Why was he even crying?? He’s so ridiculous, crying for no reason whatsoever. This was the reason why everyone seemed to get tired of him fast, he was just an unstable mess. Why would anyone want to deal with that??

“…rien…” Adrien felt something press against his cheek.

“Adrien!” Apparently that something was Plagg. Thank goodness the divider was up so Gorilla couldn’t see the shameful pity party Adrien was throwing at the back of the car.

“C’mon kid, breathe with me…” Plagg was floating right before his eyes, taking deep exaggerated breaths so that Adrien’s sluggish mind could follow his request.

Emerald eyes connected as Adrien’s trembling breaths evolved to more stable ones. The knot on his stomach was starting to untie itself, although Adrien knew that it would never go away completely. He was used to it anyway. He blinked rapidly, successfully containing the tears that had started to leak during his episode.

“Adrien…” Plagg rarely used his name, “Maybe it’s better that you stay home, you can still ask Gorilla man to turn back…” Plagg was looking at him with concern, sad eyes and dropped ears complementing his worried expression. He hated that he was the cause of it. He hated that he was dragging everyone down with him.

He shook his head wildly, not trusting his voice to sound secure. He had to go to school. How would he even explain why he skipped school? His friends would ask, his father would ask, and he really didn’t have the energy to come up with any excuse. Adrien just had to pretend everything was alright, he was used to it, pretending was as natural as breathing for him. Even if it was becoming harder and harder each day to seem detached by everything that was happening to him lately, not that he would ever tell anyone what exactly was happening to him lately.

Shaky fingers searched through his messenger bag, looking for the small mirror he carried with him almost all the time, along with the concealer that for sure had been washed down by his ridiculous crying.

Once again, Adrien hid all his imperfections and insecurities behind a fresh layer of concealer.

“Adrien…” Nino was talking to him. When had he left the car and entered the classroom? The blackboard Miss Mendeleiev was writing on, was filled with fresh formulas, of a different subject from the last lesson. Which meant that they had already gone through the correction of homework and had started talking about a different thing. When had they done that? Adrien was in the car, having just barely recovered from a panic attack, and now he was in the middle of Physics class. The time between those two moments was lost to him.

A nudge on his left side made him flinch.

“Woah, dude, calm down, it’s me!” Nino whispered, while defensively raising his hands.

Trembling lips curved to form a shaky smile. It was the best Adrien could do for now.

Unfortunately, said smile didn’t seem to be enough to reassure Nino, as the latter raised his eyebrows in concern, silently asking Adrien if everything was okay. Adrien nodded quickly, his eyes immediately drifting to the blackboard ahead, putting an end to their silent conversation. He should try and pay attention to the lesson anyway. Physics was his favourite subject so it shouldn’t be hard. He could at least pretend to be paying attention to class. Adrien was getting sicker and sicker of pretending…

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #ml season 4 spoilers #hope you like it #tw panic attacks #depression references

36 notes · View notes

fractallogic · 3 years ago

Text

Nausea/vomiting, loss of consciousness, incoherence means that there’s a limited set of likely things that could be happening

1) brain swelling (possibly she’s been mis-taking her decadron because bf is letting her be independent and the dosage/tapering is more complicated than “take one of these pills until they’re gone”; that’s the drug to keep her brain from swelling after the surgery and I think this is the most likely)

2) whatever was left of the tumor has regrown dramatically (this is apparently what was happening the first time he took her to the hospital a couple weeks ago; since no one fucking knows anything about the scans or biopsy, unclear how likely this is, but because of how tumors and cancer work, it’s definitely on the table)

3) some kind of bleed or block (stroke seems unlikely if they didn’t tell the bf right away that it was one, but possibly a bleed in the right place could cause this kind of thing to happen)

4) some other kind of damage (idk how fragile her head is with the stitches right now, but they’re not completely dissolved yet; she could have moved too suddenly or tripped or sth and wiggled her brain around too hard, causing other tissue to swell into the brain or, again, bleeding into the brain)

5) something else

I’m really hoping it’s option #1, in part because it should be easy to resolve if it’s a med thing, and also in part because option 2 feels the most likely after that and boy I really don’t feel great about a prognosis if that’s how quickly things are regrowing in there, and still! not really ready to deal with a parent’s death yet!

I think next week I need to call the counseling office where my psych is and inquire about their supposed sliding scale because my psych is also a therapist and at this point I absolutely need therapy like, now. I can’t do complicated mom feelings by myself (and friends) when maybe my mom is actively dying. I can’t wait another ?????? months and I also can’t afford something that is weekly and, I believe, $200 an hour. Like. Ffs.

Dad keeps telling me things that he’s planned for when he dies (in about 30 years, knock on wood, because he wants to live to see the middle of the 21st century) and prefaces this with “I know this might seem morbid, but you need to know this and I think you’re at the age where you can handle this information” and before I was like okay yeah it’s sad to think about you dying, but this is reasonable. Now I’m like thank god you have actually planned for this, you know how your medical bills and any caretaking or end-of-life stuff is going to be paid, I know that not only you have a will but that me and my aunts are going to be the executors of it, I know what you’re leaving to me, I know that you want to be cremated and where you want me to spread your ashes.

Do I know literally ANY of that for my mom? NO! It’s driving me insane. Maybe she has a will! Maybe she has insurance! Like just that basic info is a mystery. How has she been paying for anything on this big road trip, after they bought and renovated a house, and when she’s been working sporadically and mostly part-time for the last few years? Unclear. How the fuck am I supposed to know how to take care of her or what I need to do if she dies.

Stepdad has also been thinking about his own end-of-life stuff but obviously I’m less privy to that (because he has two grown children that he’s close with who are basically my mom’s age, so they’re presumably going to take care of all of his stuff). It’s going to be incredibly sad when he dies, but I feel less groping-into-the-unknown.

Crassly, morbidly, part of me is so frustrated that it’s the difficult parent who’s in this situation first. I don’t fucking know what to do and she’s still married to stepdad on paper; he and me and brother are her next of kin (is that how that works? ITS A FUCKING MYSTERY) (but I’m like 85% sure) AND WE DONT KNOW ANYTHING. With dad and stepdad it will be emotionally so much harder, but logistically so much less complicated. Mom has both complicated logistics AND complicated feelings.

I need to go to bed because it’s 1:30 and I would LIKE to enjoy the weekend I have with my dad here, and that means I need to actually wake up and like, exist, but. you know. what the fuck. goddammit. fuck. ugh. etc.

3 notes · View notes

beeexx · 4 years ago

Text

A little Tarlos moment fron 2x09

Read on ao3

TK’s headache has moved further down from his forehead, to settle like a blanket of pain wrapped over his eyes instead. It makes sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chair all the more worse, the bright light doing nothing other than adding to his growing discomfort and slight nausea. He is tapping his leg, the sound bouncing off the quiet sleepy room, and he thinks that the only reason Marjan hasn’t whacked him to make it stop is because she’s still pitying him over his brief spell in a room similar to the one Judd is in for a concussion that still hasn’t completely gone away. He moves his head between his legs, closes his eyes to try and drown out some of the blinding lights and breathes through his nose.

He keeps bouncing his leg though.

TK hates hospitals. He has many reasons for disliking them but he’s never had to spend a night on the edge of his seat, worried sick for people he cares about before, not in this capacity at least and it’s making him feel sick.

The worst thoughts rush through to the surface unbidden. What if he never gets to see either one of them again, hear them laugh, joke around with Judd, dinner at their place every other Sunday. What if Judd doesn’t make it? What if Grace dies? What if -

“Hi, you okay?” It’s Carlos of course, back from his coffee run, who gently places a hand on his shoulder. TK tenses for a moment, caught off guard and suddenly ready to bolt right out of his seat. He can’t fully tamper down his reaction and Carlos notices of course. TK thinks he’s probably frowning and it doesn’t take long for Carlos to start to shuffle around until he’s sitting on the ground in front of TK, coffee cup left forgotten on the chair. TK opens his mouth-

“Don’t tell me you’re fine, it’s very obvious that you aren’t.” Carlos chastises making TK look up from the ground he’s been staring holes at. His lip twitches though and he nods.

“Yeah, I won’t.” He promises and it makes Carlos’ worry lines less prominent for a moment. His hair is still a little sleep tussled, a few strands of curls at the back Carlos spends ages on each morning to lie flat are now loose and he looks tired, he is probably as tired as TK feels.

It’s been just a few days since the kidnapping and TK’s gotten used to having a particularly sort of nasty headache as his daily companion since then, ruining both his days and nights with spells of pain that won’t go away. Well, it’s probably ruined Carlos’ nights too, judging by the growing circles underneath his eyes, and TK’s constant tossing and turning every time they’re in bed. It’s been a few days of bad sleep and lounging around the house with Carlos worrying. It makes TK feel really bad, he hates it when Carlos worries about him.

Both he and Carlos had however gotten their best night’s sleep in days when the call came through, waking them both and sending TK into a near panic attack when he heard what had happened. He’s strung so ridiculously tight he’s scared he’s going to snap in half and he goes back to bouncing his leg, trying to distract from his discomfort, averting his eyes.

“Hey, no shutting me out.” Carlos gently cups his chin and forces him to meet his eyes, thumb stroking up and down in comforting motions, eyes kind and understanding. TK sighs but he nods.

“Sorry.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat, trying to get the lingering thickness away. He looks away for a moment, sees Mateo is asleep with his head resting on Paul’s shoulder while Paul is reading, frowning slightly as his eyes move across the text, flipping pages now and then. Marjan left with Tommy a while back to go do something TK isn’t sure of exactly and he hasn’t seen his dad for a while either. They are all somewhere near of course, lurking, in case something changes.

“I’m scared.” TK keeps his voice down though, just in case. Carlos nods and moves his hands to cover TK’s thighs, pressing gently down on his right leg to stop the movement. It’s an involuntary reaction on TK’s end that he stops, the effect of Carlos’ touch on him, anchoring, calming him down almost immediately. Carlos gently squeezes his knee.

“I know baby, I am too. But the doctors are optimistic and we have to believe them.”

“They are cautiously optimistic and I don’t know what that means in doctor lingo but cautiously sounds like it’s not something to celebrate yet.” He mutters.

“Maybe not, but it’s not cause for sitting here looking close to fainting either. I don’t think Judd would like it if you ended up in a hospital bed yet again after getting out of one so soon.”

“I would do it if it would make him wake up and bust my balls.”

Carlos' mouth twitches.

“He’s going to wake up.” Carlos says with such conviction TK believes him.

“But what about Grace?” He whispers, dread filling his stomach. Grace with her kind eyes, easy smiles, never ending patience and generous support TK’s not realised he’s cherished this much until she’s suddenly been hurt, with the outlook not seeming good. He is scared, terrified even that she might not make it. He doesn’t know what it would do to Judd if that was to happen. Carlos grows serious and his eyes travel to the room she is in, sadness passing over his features. With Michelle gone a lot Carlos and Grace had formed an easy friendship to fill up that empty space, and so it wasn’t totally unusual that when TK came home after shifts to find Grace and Carlos out on the patio together, drinking lemonade and chatting away, smiles wide and whatever task they had said they would do, long forgotten. It’s not just TK it pains to see Judd and Grace hurt, it pains Carlos just as much and TK immediately reaches forward, cupping Carlos’ cheek and leaning his forehead on his, offering his comfort up like it’s second nature. They both exhale, breathing through it together.

“It’s going to be okay, it has to.” Carlos says quietly and gives himself over to the worry for a moment before he pulls himself together, pushing the worry down. TK knows compartmentalising like Carlos can do is something that isn’t always the healtihest of coping mechanisms. Right now though, TK isn’t going to say anything, god knows he has a terrible track record of bad ways to deal with things, and he wishes at this moment that he could do it too, push it down and focus on something else.

“The doctors say Judd is going to wake up but it will be a few hours until then, so we’re going to have to believe that everything is going to be okay. In the meantime why don’t we go home and shower and change clothes.” He suggests.

“Not to sleep?”

“I’m not aiming that high today, I don’t think either of us will be able to do that. But you don’t look too good right now and it’s worrying me a little, so instead of checking you into this hospital myself I suggest we go back to mine and recharge for a moment and come back with food for everyone. I’m sure they’ll all need it.”

It’s a distraction, probably as much for Carlos as it is for TK, but it’s a distraction born out of kindness and a big heart, the need to do something other than sit here and worry sick. Carlos, TK has learnt during this year, is the kind of person that needs to do something, he’ll feel absolutely useless sitting still. His brain works best when he’s doing things while TK tends to be the other way around, shutting down, unable to do anything other than freezing, standing still in his growing anxiety, until everything boils over and the urge to either get high or do something almost as equally stupid gets too much and he can’t stop it, sending him down bad paths.

So he takes the opportunity and nods. Carlos gets to his feet and holds his hand out for him. TK takes it and gently and carefully Carlos pulls him to his feet and wraps an arm around him immediately. For a moment TK snuggles close, nosing at Carlos’ neck before he moves his head away, focusing on walking instead.

“How’s your head?”

“Sore.” He admits out loud and Carlos frowns. “It’s feeling more like a migrain though so maybe it’s just stress?”

“Maybe, do you want an ice pack?” TK thinks of saying no but he isn’t looking forward to getting into the car with the raging monster banging against his eyelids so he nods. Carlos gently kisses his forehead, squeezes his hand before he walks away, leaving TK alone in the mostly deserted hallway, with his thoughts again.

Being a firefighter has made TK somewhat immune to certain high risk situations, gruesome injuries, fright so visceral people become unpredictable, or shock so silent it feels it lasts for days unable to break free of, and death too, to some extent at least. His dad’s cancer, which had been a suffocating presence, expanding each day inside of TK’s ribcage, making it impossible to focus on anything other than it, giving him little room to exist outside of the anxiety and constant worry. Tim more recently, which had been quick and taking the breath out of him, slamming straight into TK like a block of concrete, catching him unaware.

His own overdose is a reminder that it takes different shapes.

And then this. Relentless, big, sudden. Impossible to escape. Scary.

They all wear their worry on their faces and clinging desperately to hope that feels like it’s dimming with each moment he stands here.

He twists the string of Carlos’ APD hoodie, the first thing he had gotten his hands on when they were rushing to get here in the middle of the night. It was a few hours ago now and there hasn’t been an update for a while now, other than that they can only wait which anyone knowing him should be aware he’s terrible at.

Carlos comes back shortly after, holding the promised ice pack, TK looks behind him at a nurse with red cheeks and a bright smile as she watches them.

“Carlos Reyes did you flirt with a nurse to get me this?” But he accepts it gratefully and presses it to his face, exhaling in relief at the cold seeping onto his clammy skin.

“I charmed her more likely, by talking about my very cute but bratty boyfriend.”

“Yeah I’ve changed my mind, I don’t care how you got it, I’m just happy that you did.” Carlos snorts and ruffles his hair.

They drive back and Carlos helps TK up the stairs before he disposes of him gently onto the bed. When he goes to leave, TK tugs him back, holding tightly onto his hand.

“Where are you going?” He sounds small, he feels small right now.

“Just to get some water, I’ll be right back -” But TK shakes his head, moves the pack of ice away and pulls harder on Carlos’ hand until he gets the hint and climbs into the bed. TK pulls him close, arms wounding around his neck and tucks his face into Carlos’ neck. Carlos' hands come to rest on his waist, big and strong, secure around TK. He feels the heath of them through the shirt he is wearing. He can feel Carlos’ heartbeat against his ribcage too, riverbating through him.

Still here. Still alive.

TK is used to danger.

But he isn’t used to this kind of danger, when it feels deeply personal, like an attack.

And it’s all so sudden, after Carlos’s suspension that has luckily been lifted but had given him enough stress and worry making TK wish he could march into Carlos’ precinct and yell at his boss that one of their best officers deserved better. It comes too soon after he was taken hostage and hurt, the wound hasn’t even begun to heal and it’s been roughly torn open again making TK feel so goddamn unsteady, the fear he’s suddenly been slammed with so tangible as it presses down on him from all sides. He feels he’s been edging closer and closer to a panic attack all night and the only thing that hasn’t sent him completely over the edge is having Carlos near.

But he’s also so goddamn scared suddenly. He’s suddenly terrified of losing Carlos. A car accident, those happen so often and maybe TK’s been naive but this has never felt like such a palpable threat to him before, until now. Until Judd and until Grace.

“Talk to me?” Carlos whispers, forcing TK out of his thoughts for a moment and TK hugs him closer, biting down the tears that have come unwillingly.

“You can never leave me.” The words come pouring out of him and his voice breaks, unable to be kept steady. He bites down hard on his lip but an audibly sniff escapes and when Carlos tries to move his head away TK hugs him tighter, not wanting any space left between them.

Carlos is quiet for a moment, but no longer than that. He takes his hands away from TK’s waist and wraps them gently around TK’s wrists to gently tug them away from his neck so he can look at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks and takes TK’s hands in his, holding them delicately, stroking his thumbs soothingly across TK’s skin. TK angles them slightly against Carlos’ chest, closer to his ribcage, where he can feel the thumping of Carlos’ heart underneath his shirt. It comforts him, the only steady rhythm to latch onto at the moment, to try and steady his own breathing, copying the unwavering rise and fall of Carlos’ chest.

“I don’t know…” TK whispers, unable to meet Carlos’ eyes. He focuses on his and Carlos’ tangled hands, trails the blue veins with his eyes, Carlos’ slender and long fingers, trying to find the right words, while also buying some time.

“No?” Carlos gently pushes and TK shakes his head. “TK.” Carlos sighs before he cups TK’s cheek and angles it up so he can meet his eyes. TK blinks a few times to clear his watery eyes and Carlos wipes a stray tear away with his thumb, expression stricken, like it gets when he wants so badly to help but doesn’t know what to do.

“When I was taken hostage…” He begins, clears his throat a few times, can’t bear watching Carlos upset. “I didn’t really stop to consider how awful it was for you during those hours, and I haven’t been able to grasp the intent completely behind your worrying these few days and now it makes me feel like such an ass. But I understand it now too, what happened to Judd and Grace, it could happen to us too and it’s so scary, so scary Carlos, what if -” He stops, gulps down more tears and bites his wobbling lip hard.

“Hey, hey.” Carlos says gently and TK’s eyes snap to him. They are sad, but determined too. “It could, but even so I will always promise to fight to get back to you.”

“I wish you could promise me you won’t leave me or that I could promise that nothing��s going to happen to me.”

“Well knowing you, letting you out of my sight has proven to be a massive mistake, I swear you’re the most accident prone person I know.” TK wetly chuckles and Carlos’ mouth twitches, the joke easing the tension between them.

“I get scared too, all the time…” Carlos confesses and TK searches his face, reaches out automatically to smooth over the worryline on his forehead, itching to kiss it away.

“Yeah?” TK asks. Carlos nods.

“Yeah, all the time. Especially where you are concerned. But I do think it’s only normal with our jobs and so on. Just… I don’t know, try and be more careful?” The frown grows into a wry little smile and maybe if TK wasn’t so shook from earlier he would have joked it away, but he nods seriously instead.

“I promise. I will always come back, always. Even if I leave.” It’s a painful reminder of TK walking out on Carlos a few months back, still making TK feel ashamed of how he acted. But things are different between them now and walking away from Carlos and from everything they have built together and are going to continue building, that is not an option anymore. “Good.” Carlos whispers and kisses his nose making TK smile. “I will always come back too. Always. I will fight every day to make that promise true.”

“Me too.” TK promises, takes their intertwined hands and kisses the promise into their hands, hoping that the day will never come where he doubts it, doubts them and their future.

“We’re going to be okay.” Carlos promises and TK closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Carlos’, slowly starting to accept it.

“Yeah.” TK whispers.

“And so is Judd and Grace.”

TK isn’t fully there yet where he dares believe it to be true, but he isn’t giving up hope that it’s all lost either.

“So, how about a shower?”

TK opens his eyes, yawns before he stretches, pops his back and nods.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Carlos helps him to his feet and in the bathroom they undress each other before they get in together. TK hums in content as the hot water washes over him and with it the last doubts he has about the future, down the drain where it belongs. As soon as Carlos joins him inside TK walks close, presses his body to Carlos’. It’s not sexual, but it’s a need, to have him near, to let the calmness of Carlos’ wash over him and bring with it a comfort only Carlos can bring out in him and judging by the harsh breath escaping Carlos’ he craves the contact almost as much as TK does. TK presses a soft kiss to Carlos’ heart and it grows comfortable between them. That’s until Carlos decides to squirt shampoo loudly on top of TK’s head, breaking them out of the moment. TK’s glare turns into a laugh and Carlos’s eyes sparkle, so very much alive and TK’s insides flutter.

They shower for longer than what they had planned and when they do make it back to the hospital, carrying food from a place Carlos knows to be one of Grace’s favourite takeaways he feels better, more hopeful and willing to believe that things will work out. Carlos’ hair is messy from TK running his fingers through it, but his arm is secure around TK’s waist and TK’s leaning on his shoulder, watching their family help unpack the bags.

And then Judd wakes up.

#tarlos #tk x carlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #9-1-1 lone star #missing scene from 2x9 #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic

46 notes · View notes

captaincravatthecapricious · 4 years ago

Text

Shaky Hands- prompt fill

Okay so I did both, but this one is for Shaky Hands!

Cw nausea, vomiting (nothing gross tho, promise), panic (but not too explicit), references to disassociation, and Jon typical negative self talk and guilt. Set post 159! (Can be read as a sequel to my last fic if you like.)

Send me more prompts! (Bingo card by @celosiaa) The ones with stars are the ones I already have prompts for, the crossed out ones are the ones I have posted! Send me a character, a prompt, and tell me if you want an art or a fic!!!!!!

Here it goes:

Jon's knuckles are white against the steering wheel of Daisy's car. Martin is dozing next to him. Face slack, and slowly regaining some color. Very, very slowly.

Jon is tired. So so so so so so tired.

The tension in his jaw is giving him a headache. Then again, that could be any number of things. Could be the thick exhaustion sitting in his limbs. It could be the endless stretch of road in front of him and the endless stretch behind. Although that is what is currently trying to force his stomach up his throat.

He's Fine.

He grits his teeth harder. They don't have time to stop.

He would turn on the aircon, but he's worried about Martin. Would the cold be too much like the Lonely? Martin is still faintly shivering under the thick jumper he had donned after his shower back at his flat before they had left.

Wasn't driving supposed to Stop a person from getting carsick? Christ there had been a time where he had trained himself to read in the car. It had taken a while... and many errors much to the chagrin of his grandmother, but he had managed it.

Of course that didn't stop him from getting horrifically sick on that unfortunate "Team Archive" road trip and every time he was kidnapped. Daisy had not been happy. Jon shudders to think of it.

And now he's nauseous and sad. Brilliant. If he loses any self control, he will be a right bloody mess.

The again, if he's going to be dreadfully ill, might as well get it over with. Maybe he'll feel better? Optimistic. Why should he assume that he would be so lucky. He hasn't been lucky a day in his life.

He's lucky no one has caught them yet. Yet. That no one is following them yet. Yet.

Seven and a half hours. They are an hour in. It’s dark. How sure is he that no one is following them? Did he catch a glimpse of police lights? Or was that just his overtaxed eyes playing tricks on him, the flash of a dashboard light against his glasses? Was that a siren or the ringing in his ears. His breath coming hot and fast against anxiety and his unhappy stomach.

Breathe Jon.

In through the nose out through the mouth. Again. Again. Again. Don’t hold the breath. That will make it worse. Something that Jon found hard to fathom. How could he feel worse? No. Shouldn’t think like that. Anything could happen. A tire could blow out. Martin could fall out of the car. The engine could fall out of the car. He could be sick all over the windshield and he could crash them into a tree.

No. No. No.

If a tire goes flat, there is one in the boot. He Knows that.

Martin probably won’t fall out of the car. It’s no more likely than Jon falling out of the car. He tries to Know the odds to calm himself but all he gets is static and a worse headache for his trouble.

He doesn’t try to Know the odds of the engine falling out. A headache any worse would cause him to be ill immediately.

As for the last possibility. He won’t think about it. He’s fine. He is.

It’s raining now. Heavy sheets of the stuff batter the car. Or at least rattle it. Rattle Jon. Quaking hands on the wheel. His hands cramped and numb from his grip on the wheel. His arms sore from it. It’s been a long time since he drove. And he was never very good.

He’s thirsty. But putting anything in him sounds like a terrible idea. But being thirsty makes him feel so much worse.

Martin is still asleep. And Jon is just barely keeping it together for him. Barely. Martin needs to sleep. Jon needs to let him sleep. He tried to count trees earlier but with the rain and the dark he can’t manage that. He can hardly see the road and he suddenly Knows about the oils rising in the rainwater from the road and making it that much easier for Jon to slide them off the road and get them both killed. So close. So close to being safe. To being free.

His stomach lurches. Again. He swallows hard. Again. He can’t keep doing this.

The backs of his hands are tingling. It’s getting hard for him to measure his breaths.

He is honestly not sure if this is panic or nausea. Probably both. Because he’s on the run again. And this time he did actually legitimately kill someone. A though that further turns his stomach much as he absolutely doesn’t regret it. He was a horrible old bastard and he tried to take Martin. But what if Basira? Left to deal with his mess, that was his fault, right? The hunters here for him. Not-Sasha also after him. If it weren’t for him, Daisy wouldn’t... she....

He’s gasping for air. There are tears on his cheeks. And he’s pulled to the wrong side of the road, emptying his stomach. Door flung open. Rain soaking his jumper. Seatbelt digging into his shoulder.

It hurts and he’s crying harder.

And Martin’s hand is on his heaving back. His other hand gathering his tangled hair.

He shouldn’t have woken him. He should have pulled over and gotten out, but he’d been too sick. Too dizzy. Too tired.

Jon continues to gag. He is shivering. Rain running in rivulets down his spine. Martin probably also getting soaked. Martin who needs to stay warm and dry and not alone getting wet and cold and with only his miserable company. He sobs around his body trying to expel all of the nothing he’s eaten over the last few days.

“Oh. Oh, Jon.” Martin’s voice to gentle. It makes Jon sob harder.

Martin still rubbing his back. Martin leaving as far as he can over to Jon’s seat and Jon knows it can’t be comfortable. Jon doesn’t have the where with all to make any sound other than a pathetic whine.

“Jon, please are you alright? No that’s a stupid question, you’re clearly not. What can I do to help?”

Jon manages to swallow hard a few times and slowly tries to sit up. The seatbelt digging in harder as it did not appreciate the sudden yank to the side. He pulls the door closed, very much hoping he won’t need to open it again.

“‘M fine. It’s fine. Go back to sleep.” His voice is worse than wrecked. It’s hoarse and thick and damp. “We’ll be there soon.” They won’t. That starts a sob tearing through him. They need to keep going. They need to keep going. They’ve got to go before someone comes after them. Jon can lose his lack of lunch when they’re safe. And they aren’t safe and Martin isn’t safe. And Jon can’t make his miserable body do anything but be cold and wet and still impossibly queasy and shake. Shake with exhaustion, nausea, anxiety, cold.

“Jon, please talk to me?”

“Just carsick. I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Jon starts the car again and Martin sputters weakly. Still cold and drained and Jon is just draining him further.

“Jon! You’re soaked! You’re sick! You’re shaking! Don’t you think any of those mean you shouldn’t be driving?”

Martin is probably right. There’s only one of those things he can fix. “I’ll. I’ll get a spare jumper, alright? But you shouldn’t be driving either. I’ll be fine. If I have to pull over a few more times… so be it. But honestly I’ll be worse if I’m not driving and looking at the road. And you... Martin I’m worried about you.” He doesn’t want to say that Martin has been disassociating when he isn’t sleeping, for fear of making Martin defensive, or worse losing him to where ever his brain goes when he’s like that. He doesn’t want to lose Martin to the fog or to himself.

Martin must know that’s he’s less fit to drive, or he would be arguing.

Jon wants Martin to go back to sleep. He also selfishly wants Martin to stay awake and keep rubbing his back when he’s ill. He wants Martin to hold his hand. He wants Martin to hold him until the shaking stops, the headache stops, the dizziness stops, until his stomach stops rolling, until he’s no longer afraid.

Selfish.

Useless.

Pathetic.

He stifles another sob as he sheds his jumper and fumble blindly behind him from another from his backpack.

He turns off the hazard lights and shakily gets them back in the road.

His head buzzes with headache. Worse now that he’s lost more liquid than he had to spare. And the motion of the car is making his head swim more and his stomach turn. Again.

Martin is handing him a water bottle. Martin is carefully wiping away his tears.

“Please, you’ve got to drink something.”

Jon whines. A truly embarrassing sound. He doesn’t want to. But he takes a couple very very measured sips.

“That’s very good. Thank you. It’s okay if we have to stop again, you know.”

Jon nods for unhappily. He doesn’t want to open his mouth to say they probably won’t have a choice.

Jon has to pull over several more times. Each time more painful than the last.

Shaking harder than ever before, Jon stops the car in front of a small, ...cute cabin. It’s mid morning. And Martin had commented several times on Jon’s claim that they would be there “soon.” It’s still sprinkling and Jon is caught between how the cabin is both increasingly Not Daisy and yet very very Daisy. He doesn’t have the energy to dwell on that, though. He takes slowly retrieves his bag and wavers the few steps towards the door. His hands shaking almost too much to find the key and unlock it.

His vision is darkening around the edges.

He flutters awake in Martin’s arms. They are on a bed Jon doesn’t recognize in a room Jon also doesn’t recognize. He’s sore and thirsty and dizzy and exhausted. His shoes have been removed and Martin is pressing him with more water.

“Sorry,” Jon manages to slur around sips that Martin is ferrying to his mouth.

“Shh. Water then we are getting some sleep. No more fainting.”

Jon doesn’t have energy to argue. He drinks his water, and presses himself against Martin with a sigh.

They can talk later.

#the magnus archives #fic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma #cw nausea #cw vomit #emeto warning #cw panic #cw guilt #whump #motionsickness #words #my words #my writing #art #my art

122 notes · View notes

walviemort · 4 years ago

Text

hidden blessing (7/?)

Summary: Killian thought the only thing he was left with after Milah’s death was a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. It’s not until he gets to Storybrooke, after so many years spent in stasis, that he discovers something else: he’s carrying her child. How does this new, tiny blessing change his path? (Canon-divergent from 2x12.)

a/n: Sorry for the long gap between chapters! Life and all that. But hopefully there will be less gap between this and the next ones, and hope it was worth the wait!

To Killian’s surprise, part of Emma’s plan of preparation was rest; she was pointedly looking at him when she made the suggestion, and honestly, he’d been too relieved at the idea to say anything against it. Even more shockingly, Regina agreed, and for the first time since they’d set foot in this accursed land, Killian finally felt rested; even the nausea had abated, though he was sure it wouldn’t last long.

What did concern him, however, was the sound of David struggling once they finally set off toward Pan’s camp. Snow teased him, but Killian was worried that his brush with the Lost One’s arrow had been far too close.

And then, of course, Pan moved the camp—in the opposite direction that they’d been moving. As usual, Regina was quick to blame him and call for the use of magic. Which was a terrible idea, and he told her so, but did give him another.

“How are we going to find it?” she sniped.

“By using someone he trusts,” he replied, patience waning.

“Who?” David challenged. “Because I guess he certainly doesn't trust you.”

He’d never gain ground with David, would he? “A fairy who lived here when I was about,” he explained, ignoring the jab. “She might still be on the island. She'd be an inside source, knows all about the camp, can get us in. She might even have some pixie dust left. Perhaps we could fly in.”

In the continuation of their hot-and-cold relationship, David supported the idea—and Emma apparently discovered another person she knew to be fictional was real. If he ended up raising this child in Storybrooke, he’d have to be sure to keep such tales far away from them.

They redirected, but David was flagging. And Killian hated that he knew why.

It took some prodding, but David eventually was convinced to show Killian his injury, lifting his shirt just enough to expose his lower abdomen. The more hormonal part of Killian was slightly jealous of the man’s not only flat, but incredibly well toned stomach, briefly mourning the loss of his own, but it gave way to dread: there was a long, shallow slice along David’s side, and black veins were already spreading from the cut.

And yet, David still tried to argue that “The arrow only nicked me.”

But Killian had seen enough brushes with the vile poison to know what lay ahead. The sight turned his stomach, dredging up painful memories. But the stubborn prince wouldn’t heed his advice to tell his family.

“Pixie dust,” David insisted was the answer. “You believe in this Tinker Bell's power? In her pixie dust?”

“Indeed, I do.” Tink had never given him reason not to. (Though, to be fair, most of their interactions were a bit more physical than verbal, and with the way the slightest thing had him aroused right now, he didn’t dare wander down that path of memory.)

“Then let's get her and that dust.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Her treehouse was still in the same spot; given his familiarity, he headed up first, only to find it empty. (Although still far too familiar; memories of one particular night spent in that hammock definitely stirred some things he hadn’t wanted stirred. Bloody hormones.)

Thankfully his pants were still loose enough to hide anything he didn’t want shown as the rest of the crew joined him in the treehouse, although their search came up empty.

Well, not entirely—while Emma and Snow were reminiscing on the hovel’s resemblance to some places they’d lived, David uncovered a handkerchief. Of Regina’s.

He should have known Tink would be steps ahead of them; she usually was.

Thankfully, she hadn’t caused Regina any harm—and Emma managed to convince her to join them. He wasn’t really surprised—Emma clearly had that way with lost souls such as themselves—though he had assumed his own rapport with the fairy would be required.

(He was pleased, however, that Tink was not averse to his flirtations, even if she was no longer the main object of them.)

Their shared history meant she could read him too well, though. On the trek back to their campsite, she sidled up to him. “So who knocked you up?” she bluntly whispered.

How the hell could she tell? Not that it really mattered, he supposed. “First time you’ve seen me in 30 years and that’s your first question?”

“Well, you weren’t the last time I saw you. Oh god—it wasn’t me, was it?”

He chuckled. “No, lass, it was not.” He had a keen memory for these things and he and Tink, despite the numerous positions they explored, never managed the specific one required for conception. “And actually, I was when you last saw me; I just didn’t know it yet.”

The moment of realization was visible on her face. “Oh my goodness. Then let me say congratulations.”

“Thanks, love.”

She then punched him in the shoulder. “You better be damn careful.”

“Bloody hell; that doesn’t exactly help.”

She helped them gather up some coconuts to share before settling in for the night (or whatever part of day it was; his circadian rhythm was definitely off, and his random bouts of fatigue didn’t help). After they’d passed them around, he sat down and was starting to notch a hole in one with his hook when Emma took a seat next to him.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” she asked quietly. “Stomach feeling alright and everything?”

He was speechless for a moment; despite her previous admission, he was surprised she cared. But her green eyes were staring him down, demanding an answer. “Aye; nothing too bad today; thank you for asking.” He broke through to the hollow core of the coconut and handed it to Emma. She took a sip and smiled.

“Damn, that’s good. I didn’t just take yours, did I?” He replied by grabbing another one and holding it aloft. “Good. You need to stay hydrated.”

“I’m aware, doctor.”

She snorted at that and took another sip, but then her smile drifted away as she swallowed. “So, uh, you seemed to know Tink pretty well.”

“Aye, you could say that; we go back quite far.”

“Were you two—is she—?” Emma stammered, then nodded toward his midsection. He had to bite back a laugh.

“Yes and no,” he answered. “We did know each other intimately, but not that intimately.”

She adorably scrunched her face in confusion, then shrugged. “Okay, I was just curious. You still need to explain all that to me, but not tonight.”

“No, not tonight; you better rest up.”

“You too, okay?”

“Aye, captain.”

She rolled her eyes, but stood and headed back toward where her parents sat. The longer he spent in her presence, the more he felt it when she left. This was definitely not the time or place to be warring with those feelings, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He was mature enough to set them aside and focus on the bigger picture—saving Henry and escaping this cursed realm—but bloody hell was it difficult.

The near-constant flutters within began their tiny dance again; he hoped the way his hand rested on his belly was perceived as casual. Feeling that was yet another reminder of his goals here: to make it out alive for the sake of the babe, and let no harm come to them.

He was allowed to have some fun along the way, though—right?

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

Of course, those moments were few and far between. The next day brought Tink’s uncomfortable reminder that they’d yet to figure out a way out of Neverland, and led them chasing ghosts across the island as he brought them to Bae’s old hideaway.

He had never let the lad know that he was aware of its location. Or that he’d been keeping an eye on him ever since he left the Roger. That was still his greatest regret, and he hoped no one noticed the tears brimming at his eyes as he moved to uncover the entrance to Bae’s cave.

Deflection usually helped; he did find a brief moment to engage Emma, but David stepped in before she could reply. It was hard to tell if it was fatherly protection or pure stubbornness against his own fate that was the motivation. Of course, David didn’t want to hear another lecture about his situation as they opened the cave, but he got one anyway; perhaps this pregnancy was elevating Killian’s already intense protective instincts, but the man’s insistence on hiding his condition was infuriating and heartbreaking.

Honestly, the only thing that kept him back from really tearing into David was Emma calling out for him from the cave. His heart gave a leap at that, one that was clearly distinguishable from the rolling of his stomach that typically accompanied nausea, and he headed in with one last glance at David. He could deal with him later, but he’d not leave a lady waiting.

“What is this place? What are we doing here?” she demanded impatiently, trying to make out anything in the dark of the cave. Ever one for the dramatic reveal, Killian headed straight to a waiting torch on the back wall and quickly made to light it with his flint against his hook. At least, he had hoped it would be quickly, but the ever present humidity made that difficult; and then David was again pushing him aside with some firestarter from his realm. Bloody hell, was that man stubborn. But it had the desired effect, and Emma quickly realized where they were. “Neal,” she said on a breath, studying the chalk drawings that covered nearly every surface. “This is where he lived.”

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Baelfire spent some time in Neverland as a boy. This was his home.” His eyes were immediately drawn to a reproduction of the port and starboard coordinates that were still etched into the Jolly Roger’s helm, sending a wave of guilt and sadness through him.

The group wasted no time in beginning to search for a clue as to how Bae had left; clearly, it had been in a rush. And if Killian used it as an excuse to hover around Emma...well, that was his business.

“Anything important?” he asked as she inspected the wall.

“I can't tell yet. I didn't know he liked drawing.”

“He got it from his mother,” Killian found himself blurting out; it was also easy to see Milah’s influence in Bae’s style, and his hand immediately fluttered to his belly on instinct. Emma gave him a sympathetic half smile, but then turned her attention back to the task at hand—and in the process, discovered the way off...partly.

It was a rather ingenious device, he had to admit: a star map hidden in a coconut. Practical and creative; he couldn’t help the rush of pride he felt when he explained it to the group.

“Then you can read it,” Regina stated, uncharacteristically hopeful. Which made the next part all the harder.

“Sadly, no.” Because of course, Bae had made sure to encode the coordinates in a manner that only he could read.

“Which means the only person who can read it is dead,” Emma summarized, clearly upset. She tossed the map aside and hurried out of the cave in a fluster. Her parents tried to follow, but didn’t get far before she told them she needed space.

Kililan only waited a minute before following.

She was only a few yards outside the cave entrance, forearm pressed against a tree as she stared at the ground and, most likely, was trying not to express any undesired emotion.

“You alright, love?” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

She huffed. “No, not really. Just one step forward and three back, every fucking day.”

She continued to rant without any input from him—about the jungle, about Pan, about missing Henry, and her mixed feelings toward Bae. And it became abundantly clear to Killian that she needed a respite (he certainly could use one, too).

He knew just the place, too. “Swan, can I show you something?”

“Is it another way off the island?”

“Afraid not, but I think it’s what you need right now.”

She sighed, mildly defeated (which was still as much as he’d ever seen from her), but nodded.

It was a short walk to their destination—still within earshot of the Charmings if needed—but far enough to give them both some needed room to breathe. He brushed back a swag of foliage (after checking for dreamshade) and gestured for Emma to step through.

Years ago, he’d discovered the small spring here; one of the few parts of the island not bent on murdering its inhabitants. The water was fresh and cool, and various fruits and edible plants grew around the edge. Back then, he’d made a point to keep access to it open for Bae; he was relieved to see nothing had changed, save for the few vines grown over the entrance.

“It’s beautiful,” Emma sighed—a heavy thing of both awe and relief.

“Aye. Only a few places like it on the island.”

“Let me guess: the water is acid or something?”

He chuckled. “Blessedly, no. It’s one of the safest places here, actually. Bae would come here often—for water, and to bathe.”

She sighed. “Yeah, one of those sounds great right about now.”

“Go right ahead,” he said, gesturing to the spring. “I’ll keep a lookout for you.”

She arched an eyebrow and smirked. “How do I know this isn’t just a ploy to get me out of my clothes? Don’t forget: I know what pregnancy hormones are like.”

She wasn’t wrong, and he couldn’t help the rush of thrill when she flirted with him like that, sarcastic as it was—or the slight southern rush of blood. “Well, I had planned to do the same, if you’d offer me the same courtesy once you’re done.”

“Okay. But turn around,” she directed. He couldn’t say no to that.

He also wasn’t about to divulge the places his imagination wandered as he heard the gentle splashes of water as she cleaned herself.

She didn’t take long—he could tell she was used to being efficient when it came to hygiene, like he was—and was fully dressed by the time he turned around, though her wet hair was still dripping. And he was more relieved than he planned on that she was already facing away when it came time to remove his tunic; he was by no means ashamed of the curve of his belly, but showing off something that was apparently unnatural to the woman he fancied was suddenly a mortifying endeavor.

He was quick, too, in washing up, and in getting redressed—at least his tunic; he let his vest hang unbuttoned for a bit. It had also been a minor bit of relief to undo it, and he’d need a moment to subtly loosen the laces in order to make it both more comfortable and better disguise his slight bump.

He’d given Emma the all clear to turn around before he did that, though, lest she get suspicious. Although—she seemed mildly disappointed when she did.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing, just...you didn’t have to hide your bump, if that’s what you were doing,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“Bummed you couldn’t see me shirtless?” he quipped.

That drew a wry, side-eyed grin from her, before she sat down on a stone near the edge of the spring and took a long sip from her freshly filled jug. There was enough space on it next to her for another person to join, but he didn’t want to impose...at least, not until she called out, “Are you gonna join me or not?”

He picked up his vest and coat from where he’d left them in the sand of the small beach and made his way over, then settled next to her. She passed over the canteen; the water was cool and refreshing—and he nearly dropped it when the babe gave a strong kick. “I guess this one likes it too,” he said after he passed it back, and let his hand rest over his belly. It wasn’t often he felt strong movements like that, but each one was reassuring—that his babe was safe from all the dangers of this murderous island.

“Have they been doing that a lot?” Emma asked.

“Here and there; that’s one of the stronger ones I’ve felt.”

“I remember when Henry first did that,” she started. “I dropped my lunch tray, I was so startled. And they wouldn’t give me any more food. But it was...kind of incredible.”

He only understood half those words, but understood the sentiment. “I was still locked up in Tamara’s apartment when I felt the first one.”

“What a coincidence; I was in prison.”

He was growing to hate the number of parallels in their lives.

“Anyways—how’s everything else? Any nausea, cravings, anything?”

It was touching that she was so concerned, but he didn’t dare complain about anything other than the intermittent nausea. As she’d said, she knew about the hormones. “Although, my boots have been annoying tight,” he did add, “and I need to loosen my vest a bit.”

Her eyes had drifted to his midsection, but quickly glanced up. He couldn’t fault her for being curious, so he tugged the edge of his tunic up to reveal his stomach.

“Aww, that’s a cute bump,” she gushed; it was an odd thing to say, he thought, but she clearly meant it as a compliment. “You said sixteen weeks, right?”

“Aye,” he answered, impressed she remembered.

“Yeah, I think that’s where I was with Henry around then. I carried it all in front, apparently.” She quickly grew quiet, and he could tell that wasn’t the sort of thing she shared with too many people. But then her expression grew quizzical. “Can I ask...how, or where, exactly are you carrying?”

“I clearly have a womb,” he said, trying to make light of what was clearly going to be an awkward anatomical conversation.

“Well, yeah, but…you’re a guy. Also clearly,” she responded, eyes glancing at his groin.

“Yes; I have both, then, if that’s what you’re asking, but my womb is...I suppose less functional than yours.”

“So...what, you don’t get periods or something? How does this all work?”

He chuckled at her bluntness and explained—how his womb was something of a secondary characteristic, menstruation only occurred once a year or so, and conception was also only possible at a specific time and when the female partner was on top (a fact that made her blush). “Milah and I...our last joining before she died, it would have been the right circumstances, but given how slim the chances of conception were, it wasn’t something we were concerned with.”

“It only takes once,” she said knowingly.

“That it does,” he agreed.

They settled into an easy silence, and the baby started kicking again, even more once he put his palm over it.

“Do you...want to feel it?” he asked; no one but the doctor had thus far, but he knew women and their partners and friends usually shared those moments. They counted as friends, right?

He was worried she might think he was crossing a line, but she grinned. “Yeah!”

Gently, he took her hand and placed it over the spot just to the side of his navel where the babe was pressing. Hopefully, she didn’t notice his quick intake of breath at the feel of her warm palm on his skin.

If she did, it was quickly forgotten when the little one was kicking at her hand; her eyes lit up. “Hey there, kid,” she said softly. “Look at you, growing big and strong.”

She looked up at him, smiling—and very close to him, a fact she too seemed to suddenly realize, and she quickly moved away.

They lingered at the pond a while longer, enjoying the respite from the craziness of their journey.

But Killian couldn’t stop his heart from racing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from Emma’s proximity, or her interest in his babe, or both.

(Emma, she was surprised to find, was facing a similar predicament. She couldn’t linger on it, she knew, but maybe when they were done, she could try to figure out what that meant.)

But for one minute, they were just two friends enjoying a quiet moment.

————————————————–

thanks for reading! tagging @cocohook38 @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian jones ff #mpreg #killian mpreg #hidden blessing #My ff

40 notes · View notes

lapinmiel · 3 years ago

Text

Mirror, Mirror

Felix and OC (Female), 1,8K. (Part 1)

Phoebe’s life was never one of an adventure, even as a vampire — after being discovered by the Volturi for her talent, she finds herself running away from the world’s most powerful organization, and soon she finds herself in a complete lie and truth situation, with the anchor of her lover leading her to his side.

Part 1, Part 2

None of the nights were calm anymore, it was always a chaser behind, and there was always an obstacle to be faced ahead. Days were filled with blood and dread, and she wished she could close her eyes for a night and never wake up again.

He called it “teenage dread” which made her very sad and furious, because she had been alive for fifty years now, how the hell could she have a teenage dread now? She had never heard it before anyway, she was past her teens — more like early twenties, but she didn’t remember her birthday. Her thoughts were like water droplets in a bucket of water swaying left to right, purely disordered.

And now, she was dealing with another threat: the damn Volturi were after her.

The night they realized there was a vampire out there who could mirror any talent was the night her life as a free vampire had ended. She had never seen the Volturi before, but she’d heard about them from Saladin’s stories, and all those were horrible. From executing clans to poaching lone vampires, they gained form as soulless monsters in her imagination, and she was not ready to face them.

And when the night of her planned poaching had come, she was surprised, because even Jane, the little one was a monster in her mind but, she was barely half of her height, which made things complicated for her. She knew she could kill Jane in a heartbeat, it was one of her skills after all, but would she feel comfortable killing a child? She didn’t know, but she realized she would have to do it one day rather quickly.

“Phoebe.” Jane’s dead, stone-cold voice had traveled the air and reached her. “I propose you join us, and we will let your creator be free.”

It wasn’t an easy choice. It wasn’t a choice. Saladin had told her before, the Volturi does not forgive. The Volturi does not tell the truth. If she joined them, Saladin would be dead by dawn, and she would have to spend her whole life serving for three marble like (but much uglier) creatures to death. Her aspirations didn’t fit theirs, and her sense of freedom definitely wasn’t a thing that they could inspire. It wasn’t the right band of people to be sent to offer a union anyway, a little agony machine, a man with eyes of mischief and another one with a door like figure that looked like it would take him a single wrong lettering of a name to crush your skull to a jelly. Besides, the men looked slightly attractive, and it wasn’t for the easy lover like Phoebe to resist men like that easily.

She refused. No hesitation was found in her noise, no twitching of hands — and in a second of leaves falling from the trees, she felt thousands of needles trying to penetrate through her skin. Her mind took action in an instant and the three vampires fell on the ground. She used the chance to turn around and tell Saladin to run away, but he had already, and when she tried running, she felt something around her neck.

The arm, or whatever it was that choked her, felt like a tight rope, much like when she was drowning in her human life. She tried putting her hand around it, but the force was far too powerful for her to slip her hand.

Then she acted out on her instinct, and kicked the figure behind her. The arm around her neck loosened, and she used the moment to run away.

It had been five days since the night happened, and they hadn’t stopped for more than two hours. “If we stop, they will find us.” Saladin had said to her earlier, he told her that the shorter man was called Dimitri, and he could find anyone, anywhere. He couldn’t risk staying in a place more than a couple of hours because he knew the Volturi would bring a whole army to poach Phoebe, and it wouldn’t matter whether his shield would be working or not. They had penetrators anyway, and he wasn’t looking to die in at least three hundred years from that moment on. They were running for hours, hunting, and running again. Saladin knew the Volturi were tracking their footsteps, and Demetri was on their necks like a crow.

It had been three hours since they’d stopped on a mountain in north Asia, and soon, it was going to be the time to move.

Phoebe had been thinking to say something for days, and the mountain range, which she didn’t know the name at, gave her the feeling of what would happen if I said, it doesn’t matter, and she wanted to go for it.

“You know what, Saladin.” She said in a breath. Saladin was busy with finishing his food. “I’m gonna say it.”

He looked up with curious eyes.

Phoebe poked the hand of her victim on the ground to fend off nervousness.

“You are the reason that we are running away now.” She looked up at Saladin. His eyes showed no emotion other than curiosity. “If you hadn’t put your shield down on the forest, we wouldn’t be here. We would be looking for Zareen like you wished.”

Saladin, licking the blood on his lips, got up and stood on the place like a mannequin. Phoebe was relieved now, because her thoughts had reached the belonging place, and now she could deal with his bickering for a couple of days. Better than keeping thoughts in a locked up place.

“Well, I am.” Much to her surprise, Saladin wasn’t angry. “But you must accept that it wasn’t intentional. I was distracted by the human. If I wasn’t, nothing would have happened.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.” She said. “If you weren’t. You should keep your guard up all times. You hadn’t one time, and we are being hunted down by the Volturi and you are probably going to get burned like a witch at a stake as if it was the Middle Ages!”

“I’m not you, Phoebe! My talent doesn’t work on its own, I have to focus on it.”

“I know.” She was feeling guilty for telling him what she thought now. It felt ungrateful.

“It doesn’t matter. We will survive this.” Saladin took a step towards her and put his hand on her shoulder. “We are going to find Zareen, and we are going to erase our existence from our world.”

He smiled, and embraced her tightly.

She knew it wasn’t completely his fault. She knew that it was a distraction that caused this all, yet, she couldn’t forgive him completely. No, it wasn’t a matter of forgiveness — it just felt wrong. It felt wrong that after living fifty years in peace, she now had to run away, and if they couldn’t find Zareen, they had to do it for their whole life. God knew how long would that be.

She was already getting bored with her life. Living in the shadows, hunting people, overpowering every being on the planet, being indestructible. A weakness was lacking, and her talent didn’t help at all. She was presumably the luckiest person in existence, and perfection was boring after spending decades being it.

After Saladin released her from his hug, they started running again. Hours and minutes were as light as a bird’s feathers, and later, they found themselves in the southern regions of the continent.

After hours of running, they stopped again, another mountain by a big city. Saladin felt like the place was quiet enough for him to catch any sound that sounded peculiar, and Phoebe thought that the trail around the mountain was the perfect place to hunt humans. They quickly ran around the mountain for a possible prey, and they fed on him to his last drop of blood once they found him. Within seconds, they felt powerful again.

In that little euphoria of feeding, Phoebe caught the glimpse of a plane flying right above their head. Her eyes glimmered. She turned and looked at Saladin to see whether he was thinking the same thing, but no, he definitely was thinking about his meal.

“Saladin.” Her voice brought surprise to Saladin again.

When he looked at her, she pointed upwards to the plane, but still, Saladin’s eyes were oblivious as ever. Maybe it is his old age, she thought.

“We can use planes.”

Saladin furrowed his brows.

“We can use planes to stop the Volturi from finding us. We’ll sneak into the cargo compartments during take off, and you’ll use your shield throughout the journey. When we land, we feed and look for Zareen. Then the Volturi will be confused.”

Saladin finally understood. Phoebe often felt like following him was a mistake, because despite his brilliant plans, he was often too slow at understanding her plans.

“They won’t be able to track us without thinking that something is wrong.”

“Yes!” Phoebe’s excitement was flowing through her veins. “No vampire uses technology. And I wasn’t born a thousand years ago.”

Saladin gave a quick smile. They agreed on the plan, and they quickly finished their meals. They arrived at the airport soon after. Phoebe offered playing a little game to choose which plane to sneak in, but Saladin, being his no-bullshit self, refused it, and choose the biggest plane. The logic behind it wasn’t clear to Phoebe, because he had never traveled by plane before, how could he know which plane flew where? Phoebe didn’t know it either, but judging from the size, it was likely going to America.

The plane they chose came to the runway about an hour later. They were waiting by the airport fences. When he felt ready, Saladin told Phoebe to run and lead him. She did as he wanted — just when the plane was about to start its engines, she run and entered the plane from the back tires.

The space was enormous, and Saladin look terrified. He knew he wouldn’t die even if something happened, and he knew that planes were completely safe after what Phoebe told him about them, but being in such a foreign object was giving him an extremely uneasy feeling, as if he was a human again and was sick with nausea. Taking off part felt like he was flying, not the machine, and after spending long hours, lading felt like falling.

The terror in his eyes when Phoebe told him to hold on to somewhere on the top of the compartment was remarkable, and Phoebe couldn’t contain her laughter when he saw him looking like a little scared puppy. While they were holding to the cables and parts of the plane, the tires got lowered, and for once Saladin felt thankful for his vampirism. At least I won’t be crushed by this thing, he thought.

Just as when the plane was getting out of the runway, Phoebe and Saladin jumped off the plane and run to the nearest fences. They jumped through them, and started running again.

It took a couple of seconds for Phoebe to realize it wasn’t morning and that they didn’t have to run away. She slowed down and told Saladin to do the same too. He came close to her to get her in his shield.

But it didn’t take long. The feelings that settled in Phoebe was not relaxation, but fear.

Because the signs on the streets didn’t read any English words. The people around them were not speaking English either. It was melodic, much more than her own language. And it was terrific too, because they were trying to run away from their hunters, not land in their homeland.

From the Writer: Just a heads up, my first language is not English and I struggle with choosing tenses when writing. If you see “had been” mixed with “was” or thing like that, please inform me. I can’t really differentiate them. By the way, Phoebe is not read the regular “Phee-bee” way, it’s more like “Pho-ee-bee”, because that’s how I pronounce it lol.

34 notes · View notes

missturtleduck · 4 years ago

Text

The Girls of Ba Sing Se - (Sokka x f!Reader) Pt.1

Part Two│Part Three

Toph Beifong is her parents’ greatest secret, so they require the upmost discretion. That’s where Y/N comes in; as Toph’s etiquette teacher, she lives within the Beifong estate, training the sole heir in being a suitable lady of society. However, when the Avatar comes knocking, Y/N respects her duty to Toph. In leaving the estate, she’ll become a great asset in the war, and a greater asset to her friends around her.

Knelt in her white robes, Toph Beifong tapped the floor in front of her with two fingers, gracious but silent for the tea that she had been poured.

“Good, Toph,” Y/N smiled, pouring her own green tea. “I’m glad you’re keeping up your basic etiquette. Your father will be very pleased.”

The blind girl snorted into her cup, sipping at it as gracefully as she could manage. It was a loud enough sound that it woke Kuai from his slumber; yawning, the wrinkled dog shuffled along the floor to come to Toph’s side. A grin overtook the apathy on her face as she fussed the dog’s head. As much as Y/N knew Toph had little need for a guide dog, it was comforting to know that she had Kuai if she ever felt alone in that big estate.

Placing down her empty teacup, Toph placed her hands innocently in her lap.

“May I be excused for today’s lessons?”

“Of course, Toph.”

The noble stood, not very tall above the kneeling Y/N, and bowed low. She left, Kuai nipping at her heels as she went. Once she had left the room, Y/N’s pleasant smile fell from her face; she knew where Toph had been going for the past few weeks. Everyone who anything about Earth Rumble knew it was as coarse as river shingle, often dangerous for its competitors. The Gecko, the Hippo, and the Boulder? They were all bad news, and yet Toph had handed their egos back to them in swift and brutal fashion.

Y/N cleared away the dishes from tea. What if Toph got hurt? Or, perhaps even worse, what if her father found out? These thoughts had plagued her mind for a while now, leaving her torn between going to Lao, or dealing with it herself.

With the tea room clean, Y/N stepped into her quarters to prepare for a pleasant evening stroll. Loosening her hair from its rigid bun, it fell in relaxed tresses past her shoulders, easing the tension headache creeping in. On the inside of her jade cuffs, she slipped a small blade on the off-chance things turned messy on the streets of Gaoling. Throwing a thin cardigan over herself, Y/N set out to leave the house. Before she reached the door, a whine caught her attention.

Kuai was lying under a great circular window, the gentle sunlight not cheering up the gentle dog, nor the affection he was now receiving from Y/N. Perhaps it was sad look in those big brown eyes, or how his jowls seemed to emulate a crying face, but she convinced herself that bringing Kuai was a necessary thing to do. He could track her with his nose, she had argued. Clicking her tongue in command, the lump of a dog bounded to her feet and sat patiently, tail thumping a din against the floor.

Opening the door out into the gardens, Y/N stifled a laugh as Kuai practically fell through the open doors and onto the grass. He became caught up in the euphoria of rubbing himself into the peonies that he almost forgot she was there. Y/N chided him, struggling to keep the grin from her face. Now, they were ready to leave.

“Y/N, a lady shouldn’t be venturing out by herself,” A guard, one Y/N was friendly with, tutted.

“Lu, I am no lady,” She laughed, brushing off any status imposed onto her. “I am just a fifteen year old girl excited to spend my time drinking good tea in the city. And I have Kuai!”

Lu allowed the estate gate to be opened, albeit with some reluctance, Y/N leaving almost sated of the worry that tormented her mind. The streets of Gaoling were safer in the daytime, as with most places in the Earth Kingdom, but she had understood Lu’s objection. At any moment, the Fire Nation could launch an attack; the entire city buzzed with a quiet anxiety. Shops were closing earlier, people keeping their doors and window locked. What the city, nor the Beifongs, didn’t know was that if they truly launched an attack, Y/N could keep Toph safe. How, she couldn’t reveal to them.

It seemed that beyond being cute, Kuai had purpose. He hurtled far in front of her, darting back and forth at ungodly speed; he had found Toph. Following the dog �� and cursing him for running so fast – she came across a tunnel burrowed deep into the side of a mountain. Its artificial shape, nothing like the natural caves in the area, told Y/N everything she needed to know. Here, she would find her earthbenders.

The dog bristled, whining lowly as he pawed at her leg. She hushed him, scratching behind his ears before venturing into the dark. Brushing her fingertips against the carved-out rock, Y/N guided herself through the dark until she could barely see a glimpse of orange light – flame.

As with most places in the Earth Kingdoms, the entire arena was formed entirely of rock. It was grand, if you ignored the complete absence of colour or natural light, big enough to make the largest warrior feel quite small. The bottom rows were completely devoid of people, bar three kids her age, maybe younger. They weren’t earthbenders. Y/N frowned, deciding to go with the earthbenders’ flow, clambering up with Kuai to one of the top rows.

She was right to do so.

A scream alerted the dog and girl duo, the boy with the wolf tail leapt back away from a large rock that had smashed into the seats a hairs breadth away from him. Perhaps she would have snorted in amusement if it weren’t for the shock.

“Welcome to Earth Rumble V!” A voice called above the commotion – though it seemed to only cause more, that being of the rowdy, excited type. “I am your host, Xin Fu!”

The sinewy man seemed as excitable as the crowd as he commentated on the matches. Each fighting man seemed to grow larger and more muscular as the night proceeded on with more matches; they fought dirty, and most were as immovable as the element they could harness. Well, all except the Fire Nation Man. He was a pitiful excuse for a warrior, Y/N decided.

As Kuai began to growl under her feet, Y/N perked up her head up.

They called her the Blind Bandit. Toph, her student and friend, stood proud in what short stature she had, a championship belt held high above her head. Not in her white robes, she wore proud green, a stark emerald. Her hair fell into her face, uncouth from an etiquette standpoint. Spirits, she was a little girl, tough but still so little. She may have had the best earthbending teacher that money could buy – money not being an object for the Beifong family – but it didn’t stop Y/N whispering a silent prayer, pulling Kuai onto her lap.

“The Boulder feels conflicted about fighting a young, blind girl.”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thought, a sudden surge of rage filling her, ‘So you should.’

Toph, the meek socialite she was, curled up into herself, a quiver crossing her lips. “Sounds to me like you’re scared, Boulder!”

“Spirits, give me strength,” Y/N sighed, rubbing a hand across her face.

The ensuing fight was something spectacular. Every movement Toph made seemed entirely instinctual. It was over so quickly that Y/N almost thought she’d missed the fight. In a quick flurry of movements, Toph had humiliated, beaten, and confined the Boulder between three stalactites. Knuckles tightening as she grabbed the ends of her sleeves, Y/N didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified. The terror, though, was not the kind etched on the Boulder’s face, but the kind that stirred in her stomach, boiling up nausea as she thought of what may happen if the Beifongs found out that their sweet daughter was an underground earthbending master.

Xin Fu entered the ring, provoking the crowd into roaring cheers as he held up Toph’s hand in victory. In his other was a hefty bag of what was likely gold; the crowd fell deadly silent the moment it was offered for a victory against the Blind Bandit.

“What?” He sneered, his confidence grating Y/N the wrong way. “No one dares to face her?”

Before Y/N could stand to volunteer, the youngest of the group nearly struck by a rock at the beginning of the tournament stood. “I will!”

Perhaps it was her imagination, but Xin Fu’s expression shifted to something sinister, only for a second before plastering on a smile. By Kuai’s growl, she assumed she was right. As the two fighters circled each other, they spoke, though not loudly enough for Y/N to hear way up away from the arena. The fight lasted longer than that with the Boulder, worrying Y/N and pleasing the audience. It was the final blow, however, that left Y/N speechless.

The boy, shorter and brighter looking than Y/N, pushed Toph off of the ring with the air.

He was an airbender – the Avatar.

Eyes widening, Y/N beckoned Kuai to follow as she hurtled down the seats as gently as possible. Calling after her, she worried that the Avatar’s shouts may have drowned hers out, but Toph merely stood in the mouth of the tunnel, seemingly ignoring the airbender.

“Bandit,” Y/N cut in, putting on her most menacing face. “We have a lot to talk about.”

As Toph closed the tunnel, cutting the two girls and their dog off from the tournament, Y/N could hear the indignant whining of the other boy, accusatory towards the girl who ‘cut off the Avatar’. She snorted, walking alongside the earthbender at ease now the fighting was done.

“So…” Y/N cleared her throat, a small smile playing at her lips. “Underground earthbending fights? Not very ladylike.”

Toph scoffed, fighting a laugh. “It beats staying home and reciting tea ceremonies.”

“I love a good tea ceremony!”

“That,” the girl said, “Is sad.”

There was an air of silence between them for a moment.

“Y/N, you won’t tell my dad, will you?”

At that, Y/N grasped Toph’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “No, but I will be coming with you if you decide to fight again. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

Toph laughed, clearly invincible, undamaged from her bruised ego. They snuck back onto the grounds easy enough, retiring to their separate bedrooms. Etiquette lessons seemed somewhat useless knowing that Toph was possibly the greatest earthbender Y/N had ever seen. On top of seeing the Avatar alive and in the flesh, the day had taken such strange turns.

Y/N had no idea of what was to come.

#atla #sokka x reader #sokka #toph #fanfic #the girls of ba sing se #missturtleduck

125 notes · View notes

hobeymakar · 4 years ago

Text

Something Better | N. MacKinnon

Words: 2,608

A/N: Since I’m sad about the Avs losing Game 7, I figured the only way to not fall into a depressive state is to write something cute to turn the failed breaking of the 2nd round curse (it’s been almost 20 years) to something positive :) In this, COVID-19 is still going on and yes, the playoffs did go on as it did this year

Warnings: swearing and alcohol use

You wake up and feel a wave of nausea run through you. You run straight to the bathroom and manage to make it to the toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach out. After the nausea goes down, you brush your teeth and wash your face before heading to the kitchen to take your prenatals and make some breakfast. Yesterday, officially started your 10th week of pregnancy and you can’t believe how quickly your pregnancy is flying by. It seems like just yesterday you found out you were pregnant alone, while Nate was playing his exhibition game with the Avs in Edmonton.

You didn’t want Nate to find out about your unexpected pregnancy while in the bubble, so you tried to keep it as secretive as possible. The only people beside your family that knew were Mel and Gabe Landeskog and Erik Johnson, because EJ apparently finds out everything like he’s some FBI detective or whatever. Luckily, EJ and the Landeskogs can keep their mouths shut and vowed to not tell Nate. You wanted to tell him in person, not over FaceTime.

You finish your breakfast and clean up the kitchen, before heading back to the room to get dressed for the airport. You shower and wash your hair before changing into one of Nate’s old Halifax Mooseheads shirts, leggings, and Adidas sneakers. You need to buy some maternity clothing soon since you’re almost done with your first trimester and your bump is starting to actually show. You blowdry your hair and put on minimal makeup before grabbing your things and leaving the house. You get into the car and drive off towards the airport.

After a while, you arrive at the airport and make your way towards the arrivals terminal and greet all the Avs WAGs. The ones who are moms can tell right away that you’re pregnant but vow not to say anything to anyone, until you’re ready. After what feels like forever, but it’s only half an hour, you see the players starting to come out. The second you see Nate you run straight into his arms, throwing caution to the wind. It’s the longest you’ve been without your husband since you two started dating in 2014.

“Y/N!” he smiles, holding you in his arms tightly.

“I missed you so much, baby!” you cry out, a couple tears of joy starting to slip from your eyes.

“I missed you even more, baby!” he replies, kissing your forehead.

You stay in each other’s arms for a few more moments before he gently places you back on the ground again. He takes your hand in his and you guys leave the terminal together and head back to the car. You both get into the car and finally take off your masks.

“How was the flight?” you ask, as you start the car.

“Long and depressing, but I’m glad I get to come home to you again,” he smiles, kissing your hand.

You put the car into drive and leave the airport, while he puts on WHATS POPPIN (Remix) by Jack Harlow, Tory Lanez, DaBaby, and Lil Wayne. You know Nate is back when only rap music is being played in the car again. After a while, you make it back to the house and Nate goes straight to the room to unpack, while you take the time to go to your office and call Mel.

Mel answers on the third ring and you can hear Linnea crying in the background.

“Hey Mel is this a bad time?” you ask, not wanting to take her away from her motherly duties.

“No, not at all. Linnea’s just cranky because Gabe accidentally dropped his gear and woke her up from her nap,” she explains.

“God, he better get her back to sleep then,” you reply, shaking your head.

“Oh he is! He’s in the nursery right now, trying to get her to go back to sleep,” she explains.

“Good! Serves him right for ruining her nap schedule,” you tease. “Anyway, are we still on for Nate’s belated birthday party surprise?”

“Yes, we are! I’ve been in contact with the other girls and the guys and we should all be there for 6. So, you should tell him you’re taking him out for dinner and then when you come back from dinner, everything will be set up! He won’t suspect anything,” she explains.

“Alright, awesome. Thanks Mel,” you smile, glad your surprise party for Nate is gonna go off as planned.

What you don't know is that Nate is outside your door and heard you mention the birthday party surprise. He leaves the hallway quickly so that you don't know that he was listening to you talk with Mel. You get off the phone with Mel and exit the room, glad to see that Nate is nowhere near your office. You find him in the living room, getting his laptop set up.

"Hey babe, are you hungry?" you ask.

"No, I ate on the flight. I'm gonna zoom with my parents and sister if you wanna come join," he offers.

"Of course!" you smile.

You love talking with the MacKinnon family. They all love you and are so glad that you turned Nate into a man. Nate starts the zoom call and you're instantly greeted with the faces of Graham, Kathy, and Sarah.

"Hi, Y/N! How are you?" Kathy greets, a giant smile on her face.

"I'm great, Mrs. MacKinnon, now that your son is back home. How are you?" you ask.

"Y/N darling, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Kathy? We're family now, sweetheart. I'm doing well. I'm so happy to see you again," she replies.

"It must really suck to have my brother back home, eh?" Sarah teases.

"I won't get peace and quiet anymore, that's for sure," you tease back, causing Nate to groan beside you.

"I don't appreciate this spousal abuse!" he whines.

"This is why you're my favorite sister-in-law, Y/N!" Sarah giggles, having way too much.

"She's your only sister-in-law, Sarah!" Graham informs her.

"I know that, Dad! She's still my favorite!" Sarah shushes him.

Yeah, you definitely love the MacKinnons. You all catch up on what's going on with the MacKinnons informing you and Nate on what's going on back in Cole Harbour. You also inform them what's going on in Denver without of course telling them about your pregnancy. Although with the looks Kathy is giving you, she must already suspect it. Moms tend to have a pregnancy radar like that. After a while, the MacKinnons have to go and the Zoom call ends.

You and Nate take advantage of a lil nap time, since the pregnancy makes you take naps more frequently.

"Babe, get ready. I'm taking you out to dinner," you inform him.

"Why can't we just have dinner here?" he pleads.

"Because we haven't had a date night since the pandemic happened and I want to go out," you explain.

"Whatever m'lady wants, m'lady gets," he teases in a stupid accent.

"You're insufferable," you groan, shaking your head in disbelief.

You two get ready to go to dinner and you had already set up a reservation at a nice steakhouse for 6pm. You arrive at the steakhouse downtown at 5:40pm and valet park it. You make your way inside and wait for your table to be ready, before being escorted by the hostess to your table. You both sit down at the table and look at the menus.

"Hi my name is Alex and I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I get you both started with some drinks?" the waiter asks.

"Can we get a bottle of your best red sauvignon, please?" Nate asks.

"And I'll just have this water," you add.

"No problem," Alex smiles.

He pours you a glass of water from the water pitcher as Nate gives you a look of confusion. Alex then leaves to get the bottle of wine.

"You're not gonna have any wine?" he asks.

"No, not tonight, babe. Not really in the mood for it," you lie.

"Okay," he replies, not totally buying the lie.

Alex comes back with the bottle of wine and you both place your orders. You check your phone and see that Mel texted you saying that everyone is at the house setting up for the surprise party. You two pass the time talking and Nate brings up heading back to the offseason house in Cole Harbour and you tell him you're unsure if you wanna go back since it's basically the end of summer anyway and the offseason is so short this year.

"So you wanna stay in Denver then?" he asks.

"I just don't know if it'll be worth it to only be there a month or two," you reply, when in reality you wanna stay here for your entire pregnancy.

Your food eventually arrives and the both of you dig in. You quickly realize how much you miss date nights with Nate and how much you just missed being with Nate in general. Dealing with the majority of your first trimester alone was definitely challenging and something you thought you would never have to deal with.

After a while, you finish eating and the waiters bring a piece of cake for Nate and start singing happy birthday, while you record it on your phone.

"Happy belated birthday, baby!" you cheer, after the waiters finish singing.

Nate blows out the candle and everyone claps. The waiters all walk away and Nate throws you a look.

"Really?" he asks in annoyance, shaking his head.

"Stop being a baby! You really thought I wasn't gonna make up for missing your birthday?" you ask.

He starts eating his cake, anyway and you eat half of it. You finish eating the cake and you pay the check, much to Nate's dismay.

"Babe, I can pay for things too. I run my own million dollar business," you glare at him.

"Sorry," he replies, raising his hands up in defense.

You leave the restaurant and check your phone, seeing that Mel texted you that the house is all set up and everyone is there.

You decide to drive, much to Nate's dismay, but you sternly remind him that he had a whole bottle of wine. You arrive at the house and park in the driveway. You walk up to the front door and go in first, seeing the house completely dark. Nate follows in and turns on the lights.

Everyone shouts surprise and Nate acts like he didn't know about it ahead of time. Gabe cues the music and everyone goes up to him and wishes him a happy birthday.

"Thank you baby," he smiles, kissing you.

"You're welcome," you smile back.

All the kids are running around and the girls and guys are chatting about offseason plans. After a while, Mel brings out a cake and everyone starts singing happy birthday. After singing, they take pictures of Nate with the cake, before pictures of different groups with Nate and the cake. After all the pictures are taken, Mel cuts the cake and serves a piece to everyone, even some of the kids. After the entire cake is cut and everyone has finished eating their pieces, you go to your office and take out a bag with Nate’s gifts in it, nervous to see what his reaction will be. You bring it out of the office and bring out to the open area where everybody is. Mel notices this and cues for everyone to be quiet and shuts the music down.

“What’s going on?” Nate asks in confusion, not understanding what’s going on.

“I got some special birthday gifts for you, but you need to close your eyes when you pull them out!” you smile, handing him the gift bag.

Nate shoots you a look of hesitation before opening the bag and taking out the paper. He pulls out the first item and hands it to you, before taking out a 2nd and 3rd item and handing them both to you. You arrange them nicely, so that he can see them clearly when he opens his eyes.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” you inform him, biting your lip nervously.

He opens his eyes and is immediately hit with a baby Avs jersey with his number on it that says Daddy in the back, as well as little Avs booties and your first ultrasound photo. His brows furrow in confusion at first before he puts two and two together and his mouth drops at the sudden realization that you’re pregnant.

“You’re pregnant? I’m gonna be a dad?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes, babe! I’m 10 weeks pregnant and I’m due in early April!” you smile, placing a hand down on your little bump.

“I love you so much!” he cries out, before kissing you and lifting you into his arms.

Everyone cheers and yells out their congratulations, with the WAGs already talking about planning the gender reveal party and the baby shower. Nate doesn’t keep his hands off your bump for the rest of the night and doesn’t shut up about how he can’t wait to meet the baby. The team, because they’re all competitive gambling bastards, place a wager on whether or not it’s a boy or girl, and secretly you want a mini Nate running around, even though you know he would be an amazing girl dad.

After a while, it gets late and everyone cleans up before heading home. Once everyone is gone, you guys shower and get ready for bed.

“When’s the next appointment, babe?” he asks you, as you crawl into bed to cuddle him.

“In two weeks for the first trimester screen. You’re gonna be able to hear our baby’s heartbeat for the first time,” you inform him.

“I can’t believe you were going through this all alone,” he sighs, feeling guilty that he was playing in the Edmonton bubble.

“I had Mel here with me and she was pretty awesome helping me out after every freakout and breakdown I had since finding out I’m pregnant,” you assure him.

“How long have you known?” he asks, the “without telling me” implied.

“I found out 5 days after you left. I had missed my period and was feeling like shit, so I bought a few tests and they all came out positive. So I freaked out and figured I’d wait til I saw you again in person to tell you,” you explain.

“I hate that I wasn’t here for you these last 6 weeks, but I’ll be by your side for the rest of this pregnancy, baby,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “When do we get to find out the gender?”

“In 10 weeks during the mid-pregnancy ultrasound. It’s a 3D ultrasound that will show us every detail of the baby,” you explain to him, in between yawns.

He crawls down under the sheets and brings his face up to your little bump.

“Hey little one, I know you don’t know me yet, but I’m your daddy! I can’t wait to meet you little guy or girl! Your mommy and I make me so happy. I know I haven’t been here because I was busy trying to win the Stanley Cup, but I’m glad I didn’t. You’re already a million times better than winning the Cup,” he explains, leaving kisses on your bump.

You quickly wipe the tears from your eyes so he doesn’t see how emotional that made you. He’s right however. Finally starting a family is way better than winning the Stanley Cup.

#nate mackinnon #nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl players #nate mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon imagine #hockey imagine #nhl writing

155 notes · View notes

satsuma-saturn · 4 years ago

Text

Lemon - Beelzebub x Reader

A/N: I haven’t written fanfic in years, so apologies if this is poorly written :’)) I just wanted to get back into the scene and I hope Beel isn't too ooc, since I’ve never written him before. I hope y’all enjoy :’))

Reader is gender-neutral, unless otherwise specified

WC: 2174

Warning(s): Reader deals w/ depression

Fic below the cut :)

Lemons were sour, a no-brainer. You remember sucking on a lemon as a dare when you were younger, your friends laughing at the puckered face you made when the sour juice made contact with your tastebuds. After that, you’d sucked down an entire glass of water, in an attempt to rid yourself of the taste, yet it lingered. Another time, you were preparing fresh lemonade to sell at a lemonade stand, but when it came to tasting, it was horribly sour. Your grandmother gave you the advice to scoop some sugar into the lemonade, as it would sweeten it. She was right.

You laid in your bed, staring at your ceiling. It was dinnertime and you hadn’t left your room in...you didn’t even know how long. Some time earlier, Beel had popped his head in your room, letting you know that it was time for dinner. After his announcement, he remained in your doorway, seemingly waiting for you to walk with him to the dining room. With a small sigh, you had told him you’d be downstairs soon. He had frowned, like he didn’t really believe you, but he was hungry, so he stepped out and closed your door behind you. That was around half an hour ago and you hadn’t budged an inch. Your head hurt and you felt...empty.

Like the taste of a lemon, the empty feeling lingered inside you. It grew stronger the longer you laid there, staring at your ceiling in the dark. You squeezed your eyes shut, curling up in the fetal position. Your fingers ran up and down your sheets as you tried to take deep breaths.

“One...two...three…” Your eyes burned and you rubbed them with your fists, trying to wipe away the hot tears that threatened to spill out. Too late. A sob that welled up inside your chest escaped your throat, sounding akin to a dying whale. Fuck. Why were you like this? Why were you crying? You clenched your fists, your nails leaving behind crescent-shaped indents in the palms of your hands. Shaking, you slid under your blanket and rolled up in it, as if you were a human burrito. Hiding away in a blanket burrito was safe and warm, but you knew you couldn’t hide away forever. Someone would come to get you. If not that night, then they would the next morning, since you had school. Would Lucifer let you stay home if you claimed to be sick? You did feel sick, after all. Even if you weren’t physically sick, there were still physical symptoms.

When your door opened and a towering figure silently stepped in, you didn’t notice. In fact, you only noticed his presence when your bed suddenly shifted, rolling you into him. Sniffling, you peeked out from your blanket. It could only be Beel. Who else was the size of a fucking tree? He must have come back after waiting for almost an hour for you to come back downstairs. You did tell him that you would be downstairs for dinner, only you hadn’t actually moved from your bed, so he was probably worried about you. Oops. Maybe you should have waited until after dinner to cry yourself to sleep.

“You’re crying,” he mumbled, as if you didn’t already know that. The room was dark, but you could feel his violet eyes drilling into you, waiting for you to speak, to say anything. You were silent for the longest time, though, unsure of what to say. What could you say? Sure, you could just be honest and spill your guts, but you weren't positive he would understand. It wasn’t that you thought he was dumb, because he wasn’t, but demons were decidely different than humans. Still, Beel was more emotionally intelligent than any of his brothers, so even if he couldn’t empathize, perhaps he could sympathize.

Wiping your nose, you sat up and reached over to turn on your lamp. The light scorched your eyeballs, since you’d been sitting in the dark for who-knows-how-long. When your eyes adjusted, you focused on Beel, who was watching you expectantly. You still owed him a response. Swabbing your tongue on your dry lips, you thought of what to say, how to explain how you were feeling that would make sense to him.

Swallowing, you finally found your voice. “Yeah, I am crying. I’m just...not feeling very well right now--”

He interrupts you, his voice laced with concern. “Are you sick? Do you need medicine? I’m not really sure if we have medicine here that humans can stomach, but I think we can figure something out. Do you need a cold pack? Or maybe a hot cloth?”

If you didn’t feel so miserable, you could’ve cracked a smile at his million mile questions. “No, Beel. I don’t need any of that. I’m just sad, that’s all. You don’t need to worry about me.” Your lips curved up in a small smile, but your eyes remained melancholic. That was bound to worry him even more, but you were still thinking of ways to explain it in your head. The cogs in your brain were rusted, though, refusing to budge.

His jaw tightened, his eyes boring into yours, as if he was thinking of how to respond. After several moments of silence, he took your hand in his and leaned in to speak, his voice low. “You’re sad? Did someone make you sad? If so, I’ll make them pay. Or was it me? If it was me, I…,” he swallowed, “I’ll do anything to make it up to you, promise.” You loved this man (demon?), but he was never going to need another leg day from all the jumping to conclusions he was doing.

“Beel, let me talk.” You paused for a second, waiting for his affirmation before resuming. “No one is making sad--”

“So why are you sad?”

“You’d find out if you stopped interrupting me every two seconds,” you say, your tone tinged with annoyance. You didn’t mean to get annoyed, but he wasn’t listening when you were trying to tell him something important. A sigh escaped you before you continued. “I’m just sad just to be sad. There’s no rhyme or reason behind it, but that’s just how my brain functions. Sometimes, I get headaches and nausea from it, like right now. It causes me to want to isolate myself and just generally sleep and cry a lot. Does that make sense?” You tilted your head, silently watching his face. It was your turn to wait for a response.

Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s depression, isn’t it? I don’t know that much about it, other than what I’ve read in one of Satan’s books. I got bored, though, because reading about the human brain hurt my brain.” He carded a hand through his ginger locks, sighing softly. “So, that’s what’s going on? Why didn’t you say that before? You were really starting to worry me, pumpkin.” Pumpkin. That little pet name he gave you always melted your heart when he said it. Pumpkins were stupid because you couldn’t even tell if they were a fruit or a vegetable, but you liked hearing him call you that.

“I‘m sorry,” you mumbled, hugging yourself and bowing your head. You felt ashamed. Ashamed that you were alone in your room, crying. Ashamed that you hadn’t gone to Beel when you started feeling that way. After all, you didn’t want him thinking that you didn’t trust him. He was one of the most important people in your life and you didn’t know what you’d do without him. Your shoulders shook as a sob wracked through your body. You were so stupid.

“Hey,” Beel said, softly. “I’m not mad at you. I was just worried, I guess. I should’ve known something was wrong the first time I was up here, but I was too hungry to pay attention to anything else, other than getting to the dining room for dinner. I’m still hungry, actually.” Right on cue, his stomach growled and he frowned. “Everyone else is done with dinner, so we can go to the kitchen to get something to eat. Maybe Mammon’s left some cake in the fridge or something. Let’s go check.” He held out his hand and you quickly wiped your eyes before taking it.

Somehow, none of the other six brothers spotted the pair of you sneaking to the kitchen. It wasn’t very late, so they were all still definitely awake. Well, most of them were definitely still awake. A certain twin was probably fast asleep somewhere in the house. You trudged behind Beel as he raced towards the fridge, desperate to find something to eat. Seating yourself on the counter, you watched him rip open the refrigerator door, pulling out random food items and muttering to himself. He wasn’t above eating his brothers’ food, but you knew Mammon’s would be the first to go if it came to that, especially after the Custard Incident, which left you without a wholeass wall.

“Hmm...Levi’s got something here, but I don’t trust anything from him,” you heard him say, as he searched, which was valid. “Ooh, pudding!” His tone was excited as he pulled his head out of the refrigerator, narrowly missing slamming his head. “Looks like it’s...mine!” His voice was excited as he grabbed a spoon and opened a container. “Here, take a bite. Food always makes me feel better and I thought we could share this. You’re the only one I’d share with, though.” He brought the spoon towards your mouth and you took a bite, but it was hard to swallow. Your appetite was nonexistent, but you were willing to humor him.

“Mmm, thank you. It’s good,” you said, flashing him a small smile, but he returned it with a frown. Why was he frowning? You weren’t lying about it tasting good.

“You’re still not happy. Am I doing something wrong?” He asked, taking a bite of the pudding. Even as he worried about you, his hunger could not wait. Something about that was endearing, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

In response, you shook your head. “No, you’re not doing anything wrong. I just need some time to deal with my emotions, but we can still eat pudding together,” you replied, leaning towards him. He took that as an opportunity to capture your lips in a kiss, wrapping his free arm around your waist. You could taste the pudding on his lips as the pair of you kissed, and it was sweeter than it had been before.

After a few moments, he pulled away from your lips, still holding onto your waist. “You taste like pudding. I could eat you up,” he mumbled, burying his face in your shoulder. Normally, ‘I could eat you up,’ was something cute to say and it would’ve made you blush, but hearing it from Beel was mildly concerning. “I’m not going to actually eat you, don’t worry. I mean, I could, but I’m not going to.” His voice was muffled by your shoulder, but you were still able to make out what he said. It didn’t really make it any less concerning.

“Okay, well, we have some actual pudding to eat here, and I’m surprised you haven’t already inhaled it yet,” you quipped, picking up the bowl. Beel yanked the spoon out of the bowl, thrusting it in your direction. You were confused about the mild aggression, but you shook your head, raising your hand to block the spoon. The one bite of pudding had been enough.

“Eat.” He held out the spoon, waiting for you to take a bite. “You didn’t eat dinner and you can’t go to bed hungry. That’ll just make you more sad. I know I’d be sad if I went to bed hungry.”

Shaking your head again, you said, “I’m not hungry, though. You can have the res--”

“Pumpkin,” his voice was firm, but not angry or mean. It was strange, as you’d never heard him like that before. “Even if you’re not hungry, you still have to eat. I love you and I don’t want you to get sick.” Love? He loved you? Sure, you were seeing each other and he obviously liked you a lot, but you didn’t realize that he loved you.

“You love me?” You made eye contact with him for the first time that night, your heart feeling like it was going to thud out of your chest.

His eyes widened, as if it had just occurred to him what he’d said. Maybe he wasn’t planning on telling you yet. Oh well, too late. You knew. “Uh, yeah, I do love you. I love you like I love food, which is a lot.”

You cracked a smile, a real smile, for the first time that night. “I love you too, Beel.”

Depression lingered like the sour taste of lemons, but the warmth of Beel’s love softened the blow, just as sugar sweetened the taste of lemonade.

117 notes · View notes

elfdyke · 4 years ago

Text

HAHA OK UM. ivy exposition time hehe… come read my thoughts i put down in text for you all to read about what i perceive this fictional woman’s backstory to be (this is a lil more cohesive than my harley one but. YEA)

smal cw for VERY brief mentions of abuse (ivys dad + the joker r mentioned)

Ivy grew up in an emotionally vacant house. Her father was very emotionally abusive + occasionally physically. Her mother was hardly around. This caused her to have to take on a lot of responsibility for herself and basically grow up way sooner than she should have

She put a lot of effort into her schoolwork. She had a very caring and helpful science (either biology or environmental science) teacher, she nurtured Ivy’s love of botany

She got a scholarship to acclaimed college and essentially got a free ride? she worked on the side to pay for any spare expenses.

Woodrue was one of her teachers, he was academically lauded for his work in botany but hadn’t been very relevant in the recent scientific discoveries, essentially he was a big shot who got kind of washed up, but Ivy had studied his research extensively and found him incredibly inspiring.

They end up fostering a very intense relationship STRICTLY focused on their scientific research. (SHES LESBIAN.) They’re trying to prove a hypothesis Ivy’s presented about idfk.. accelerating plant growth. Harnessing toxins certain plants create for their healing properties…IDK I DON’T KNOW SCIENCE <3</p>

Their entire work relationship and all the shit they do feels like going 120 mph down a road the wrong way and she loves it. This is truly the first time she’s had full control over her own life and has someone who actually (as she believes) sees her as an equal and recognizes her intellect.

They end up escalating things because they’re both so desperate to prove Ivy’s hypothesis, and Ivy volunteers her own body for them to test their work on. She refuses Woodrue’s offer because its her theory, so she should be the one to suffer if things go wrong…

WHICH THEY DO. Shit goes sideways and Ivy experiences adverse reactions which cause her to become bed stricken (she refuses to go to the hospital because she’s afraid that the toxins could be extremely dangerous, and doesn’t want anyone to suffer because of her science).

She also tells Woodrue to keep his distance, because she wants him to be safe from it too, and he essentially just ghosts her. She’s upset about it but first blames herself because she feels like she’s done nothing but prove everyone right about what a failure she is.

She starts noticing changes affecting her, and its all kinds of fucked up. I can elaborate on this later <3. But essentially her physiology starts warping due to the green encompassing her, growing up from her hands and feet. I think the green parts of her body are cool to the touch, have a plant like texture, and MAYBE? Have plant cell structure ingrained in them vs animal cells.</p>

Also, the green initially starts slowly spreading up her body but she’s able to halt its progression, in order to lose herself completely (think of the kinda deal in annihilation, instead of sexy green plant lady ivy).

She catches wind that Woodrue had HER research published and is taking full credit for her hypothesis, without naming her whatsoever, and it essentially breaks any semblance of humanity she had left.

At this point she’s kind of crazy powerful and can control plantlife as we all know and love <3 She figures out that Woodrue is having a conference where he’s holding some kind of really important lecture on ‘his’ hypothesis, and plans to unmask his deceit in front of the entire scientific community. </p>

She also discovers that he’s warped her discovery from something she wanted to benefit humanity and the environment, to something to gain profit from, essentially going against everything she believed in.

She bursts into the conference and when she sees Woodrue, she essentially blacks out and next thing she knows she’s essentially pulled a Carrie…. NOT EVERYONE DIES!!!! But its brutal and fucked up and she 100% absolutely slaughters Woodrue and makes an example out of him. This is the point in her story where she officially loses any chance she had of her past life as Doctor Pamela Isley.

She uses his desecrated corpse to warn everyone in Gotham, in the world, that the green has woken and will no longer stand by and be desecrated by humanity.

Ivy does a lot of work trying to collapse industries that harm the environment across the world for a while but it’s also hard for her to much alone, and she almost gets bested a few times @_@ She’s absolutely a formidable threat, but she’s also one person with a massive weakness to fire

She ends up slinking back to Gotham to recover after a particularly nasty encounter

Something abhorrent happening in Gotham catches her eye and she can’t stop herself from making an appearance and attempts to wreak havoc before ultimately getting caught and shipped to Arkham for her “extremist beliefs”

Dr Harleen Quinzel is paired with her for weekly meetings.

Harley realizes very quickly Ivy is most certainly Not insane and repeatedly tries to get it appealed, but no one will listen to her. (Ivy was locked up in Arkham specifically bc of her environmental activism/terrorism)

Ivy’s very snide at Harley at first, looking down on her for being so bright eyed and bushy tailed about everything. She’s very much bitter about how she’s repeatedly been wronged, and always cast as a villain despite her believing she’s doing what she can to save the earth.

Ivy and Harley argue about if women can ever achieve anything in this world, the way its built. Harley says she’s sad ivy feels that way but knows she’s going to make a difference. She’s different and she’ll change things.

Ivy doesn’t entirely believe her but seeing someone so downright full of life and hope really does spark something in Ivy that never really dies down.

Eventually Harley gets reassigned and taken off Ivy’s case. They didn’t have a lot of time together but I think that Harley makes a worthy impact on Ivy. This is also before Harley has interacted much, if at all with the Joker

Time passes, Joker’s manipulation ensues, Harleen becomes Harley.

Ivy sees Harley Quinn during a run in with the Joker but doesn’t recognize her at first.

Until she speaks.

Ivy gets hit with a wave of nausea upon realizing how Harley’s fallen from the proud and bright girl who was sitting across from her in Arkham.

After that she uses the green to try and keep tabs on Harley and one night after a particularly bad beating, Joker kicks Harley out and Ivy manages to swoop in and rescue her from near death.

ALSO, IMPORTANT! Ivy struggles a lot with her disgust toward humanity vs her desire to protect Harley. It’s the reason it takes her a while to actively seek a hurt and broken Harley out and rescue her. (she resents herself a lot for not acting sooner, when she realizes how extensive Harley’s injuries are)

TOSSING THIS HERE . about Ivy’s sexuality. I can’t see her ever really opening herself up to any romantic relationships any time during her school life. She’s very driven and focused on her studies and her research. She never really gave her attraction to anyone much thought, so I think that she just expected she would never feel attracted to anyone? Until she meets Harley. I think that meeting Harley kind of opens her eyes like. Wait I can feel this? I deserve this kind of love? With a woman?… she has to work through some shit but she is a big lesbian in love with her weird little clown girlfriend

um i think thats all hehe…. i have more but i kinda wana write a fic about harls and ivy getting together from my interpretation so…… TUNE IN NEXT TIME <3</p>

#poison ivy #harley quinn #harlivy #dc #text #IM FEELING A LITTLE.. cwazy over them <3 #IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS ABOUT WHAT I SAID.. or what im thinking. please engage with me..#talking about this stuff is.. EXCITING AND NICE #UM IF I MADE ANY MISTAKES OR ANYTHING.......cringe.. i am tired and i can only do so much #writing

65 notes · View notes

littlemissagrafina · 4 years ago

Text

Connected (yet to be separate)

By @littlemissagrafina for @lbigreyhound13

Rating: General

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, May Parker (Spider-Man), Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Summary: It would be the first time that Tony and Peter would be away from each other for more than a day since the reversal of the snap.

It was the first time they would be apart since their soulmate bond had calmed and settled after the trauma it had gone through with Thanos’ first snap, the breaking of their bond back on the cursed, red ground of Titan and then the sudden return of it in the reversal snap.

Needless to say, Tony was anxious and he could feel that Peter was too.

(This is my latest fic for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange as well as the second part in my soulmate au. It can be read without having read the previous work)

Read on AO3

Tony woke up with anxiety and stress swirling in his stomach, making his skin crawl.

He’d been dreading today for more than a week now and had been foolishly hoping that he would wake up to the news that something had cancelled his and Pepper’s trip to China. They would be gone for a day or two to handle a blueprint leak that could only be dealt with in person due to the security clearance needed.

To most people it wasn’t that big of a deal, but Tony wasn’t most people. It wasn’t even the fact that he and Pepper had to deal with something big so soon after their semi retirement, no, the problem was that it would be the first time he and Peter would be away from each other for more than a day since the reversal of the snap.

Needless to say, Tony was anxious and he could feel that Peter was too, had felt it through their bond as the teen’s stress and fear slowly built more and more as the day of Tony’s trip came closer. Tony knew that his own nerves were felt too, knew that his restless, disturbed sleep the night before was mimicked by Peter just across the hall.

Their lack of sleep could be seen in the dark circles that had slowly formed beneath their eyes over the last week as well as the smudged letter inked on the skin of their forearms from when they had spoken during the night.

Pepper and May glanced at each other, concern shining in their eyes when Tony and Peter joined the two women at the breakfast table, Morgan looking up from her colouring book when Peter sat down next to her.

“How long?” May asked, watching as Pepper shifted Morgan’s coloured pencils and markers to the side so she could place the toast and egg filled plate in front of the five year old.

“How much sleep did you get?” May clarified when she only received confused looks as they all started dishing food onto their plates.

Peter grimaced at the question, unaware of Tony’s similar expression next to him, but he answered anyway knowing that May would resort to asking FRIDAY if she didn’t get a response. “An hour or two.”

May’s brow furrowed slightly but she didn’t say anything, knowing that it wasn’t really their fault that they hadn’t slept.

“Tony?” Pepper prompted her husband, a concerned crease forming on her own forehead as she looked at his and Peter’s weary expressions.

“An hour or two.” The older man grudgingly admitted, mimicking Peter’s earlier words as he stabbed at one of the stray roasted tomatoes on his plate.

With a sigh Pepper looked at May. “Yeah, I expected this.” She glanced over at the clock near the fridge. “It’s only just after eight and we have to be on the jet at two thirty so why don’t you two go get comfy in the sun room? Maybe try and take a nap?” She asked them gently, referring to the glass roofed and walled room that was covered in mattresses and pillows for them to lie comfortably.

All too aware of the tired, slouching teenager next to him, Tony agreed. He hated that Peter had to suffer like this. With Tony it was different, he was the older one, the one that was supposed to take away Peter’s stress and anxiety not be the cause of it.

It was one of the few downfalls that he found with their bond. He despised the effect it had on his kid in moments like this.

Taking another bite of his eggs and nudging Peter’s own breakfast plate closer to the boy. “C'mon.” He smiled. “Finish your food and then we can have a cuddle fest.”

Peter shot him a smile in return, one that Tony saw all too well wasn’t as bright as usual. “Only if I can use the Gerald blanket.”

“But that’s the best blanket!” Tony fake pouted at him but knew that Peter would end up with the big, woolly blanket that looked remarkably like the fuzzy coat of the resident goji-berry-stealing alpaca.

“I know it’s the best,” Peter smirked at him, “So I’ll share it with you. We wouldn’t the old Iron Man himself to get sad over a blanket now would we?”

“I am not old!” Tony’s indignant squawk was followed by laughs from everyone in the kitchen.

–

Sometimes Peter still has nightmares. Sometimes Tony does too, they all do, and that’s okay. Part of the ‘hero gig’, right?

Yeah, right, but also wrong because it wasn’t okay. It was okay when Peter knew that Tony was just down the hall and safely tucked away in his and Pepper’s room. It was okay when Tony was just steps away, steps that Peter often found himself taking when a nightmare left him that much more shaken than normal, when the terror was too real. That was okay because Tony was there, he was home.

But that was then, and then was okay. Now isn’t okay. Now is Peter who is terrified to go to sleep because he knows he’ll be haunted by his fears and memories. Now is a feeling of exhaustion and nausea slowly building up in his stomach because Tony is more than 7,200 miles across the sea. Tony is away and he isn’t here with Peter and it’s not okay.

Now was Peter’s mind running in circles over and over and over again. Thoughts spinning and spiraling in a cacophony of ways that made Peter want to curl up in a ball and never get up again. His mind turned on him, flinging every possible bad situation that it could come up with at him.

Peter didn’t know how long he laid in his bed, desperate for sleep despite how much it scared him, just so his mind would stop. Eventually the ache of his tired eyes became too much and he drifted off into restless sleep.

—

There were whispers, echoes of voices that Peter knew but didn’t know. Their familiarity was comforting in a strange way. Like coming home after a long time, they carried the same feeling of this is right but also a note of melancholy.

Why melancholy? The voices were nice, they were warm, so why did they make him feel sad too?

And he was sad now. Why?

Because you didn’t do something… you failed.

Peter didn’t know what he hadn’t done, his confusion swirling higher and the voices growing clearer, harsher.

He could hear what they were saying now. Their hisses and snarls turning venomous and the comfort bringing horror instead of warmth.

He knew those voices, who they belonged to… his parents, Ben, May, Tony.

“You didn’t save us, Peter! You let us leave on that plane!”

“You could have saved me. You had powers, you knew when he pulled that trigger! I saw it in your eyes!”

“Why did you let him die, Peter! Why wasn’t it you? It should have been you!”

Over and over their voices spat at him, their words striking him deep in his heart, twisting it in their grasps. He was trapped with them and he just wanted to get out!

Suddenly there was Tony. But it wasn’t his Tony, he knew because his Tony made him feel safe and warm. His Tony always greeted him by sending a flood of love and affection through their bond even if they had been apart for only seconds. This wasn’t his Tony. This one was cold and hard, face drawn and a harsh glare twisting his features.

“I almost died for you. I solved time travel for you, put on that gauntlet for you, and what do I get in return? A whiny kid who’s scared of the dark, scared to sleep.” Not-Tony snapped at him and Peter felt his chest close in, his breath escaping in a choked off whimper.

“Not Tony, not Tony, not Tony! ’S not him!” Peter heard himself gasp. He looked up – when did he get on the floor? – when he saw gold and red armored feet step in front of him.

“Pathetic!” Not-Tony snarled and Peter was yanked backwards away from him, hands and nails scrabbling at the ground as he was pulled away.

Peter woke with a cry, tumbling from his bed with his sheets twisted and tangled around his legs. Nausea rose in his stomach and bubbled up his chest. Staggering to his feet and tripping over his blankets he darted to his bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the toilet just as the take out he’d eaten with May and Morgan for dinner made a reappearance.

Peter’s throat burned and his stomach ached from the force of his heaving and he could feel tears running down his cheeks.

He threw up until the only thing left was a bitter taste and an aching body. Gentle hands, May’s hands, helped him up and pushed him to the sink where his Aunt passed him his toothbrush and toothpaste before she turned and made sure the toilet was clean enough that just a flush would do until it could be cleaned properly in the morning.

Once Peter was finished at the sink May slipped her hand into his and led him out of his room and into her own, where she ushered him into bed before she slipped in herself and hugged him close.

He was asleep before his fear could return.

—

Peter woke again with nausea still swirling in his stomach and an aching head and body to go with it. May took one look at him and ordered him to stay in bed, but relented to letting him shower and move to his own room.

After showering and changing into fresh pyjamas, he climbed into his own bed. Silently thanking his Aunt again that she had changed his sheets too. He didn’t know when she did it but she had, and it made him feel a bit better knowing he wasn’t sleeping in his sweaty sheets from last night’s nightmare.

“Think you can eat, sweetheart?” May asked him as she walked into his room, a sandwich and a glass of water in her hands.

Peter shook his head. He wouldn’t be able to keep anything down if the queasy feeling that rose up in his stomach everytime he moved was an indication.

“Sorry, May.” He answered her with a wince.

“I know, buddy. It’s okay. You have to try for the water at least, yeah? I’m not having a dehydrated Spider Baby on my hands. Again.”

With a sheepish smile as his answer, he reached for May with grabby hands, almost crying when she wrapped him up in a hug. Peter loved May hugs but it wasn’t what he really needed. It wasn’t a Tony hug and it just made everything worse.

As if sensing his thoughts, May held him closer. “He’ll be home soon, Bug. I promise. You just gotta hold out for the rest of the day.”

“Thank you, May. Larb you.”

“I larb you too, honey. Can you try and sleep some more? Maybe you can get something down after a nap.” May soothed her fingers through his curls before gently pulling away.

Peter gave a hum.

“I’ll be up later to check on you, 'kay? I gotta go corral the little Mongoose downstairs.” She gave a teasing smile.

“'Kay.”

With a final smile and a kiss to Peter’s forehead she was gone.

Turning to get more comfortable, the teen’s hand brushed against an Iron Man plushie that was either a gag gift from before the snap or a sappy one from after. Hugging it close he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t paid much attention to his and Tony’s connection.

Squeezing the plushie, Peter pushed against the bond slightly, checking on Tony and finding he was asleep. Asleep but okay.

Time differences suck. Travelling sucks. Want Tony. Those last thoughts ran through his brain as he started dozing. He just hoped the previous night’s nightmare was the last one.

—

Peter would later stir, his nose scrunching and fingers twitching as he dreamed only for it to calm after a few seconds. His sleep never fully restful.

Peter curled on his side, unaware of the slight pain that was slowly building behind his eyes, his temples slowly starting to throb as he slept until he was awoken by the pain.

Peter choked back a whimper, slamming his eyes closed in an attempt to calm the nausea and pain the action caused. He moved his head under the pillow it had been on in an effort to muffle the everyday noises around him, as well as the vibrations he could feel from said noises.

It didn’t help.

A sudden flare of pain had Peter stumbling from the bed and darting to the bathroom to throw up what little of the contents left in his stomach from the night before. His mind strayed to the sandwich and water sitting untouched on the bedside but it only succeeded in making him retch more, so he shoved thoughts of food away.

The pain kept building but was now joined by a tingling in his left forearm. Looking down, he saw Tony’s words from earlier that day (or evening or night. He didn’t know which) were still there.

I hope you feel better soon, Bud. It said, Peter’s own thank you was still scrawled under it, too. They hadn’t spoken as much as they usually did, but Peter knew that Tony could feel he wasn’t well. He also knew May had probably told the older man, and he didn’t really mind. Yeah, he didn’t like to be coddled, but he liked that they all cared about him.

Lifting a shaky hand, Peter flushed the toilet and tried to stand. He felt wobbly but he managed to rinse out his mouth and get back to bed before he ended up staying on the floor for the rest of what he figured to be night judging by the lack of light from his window.

Dropping his head back under the pillow, he tried desperately to ignore the aching in his arm and head. It felt like something was missing, but he didn’t know what it was.

After what felt like hours, Peter felt the pain start to ease the slightest bit, the reprieve giving his exhausted mind and body the chance it needed to slip back into darkness once again.

—

The first thing that Peter registered as he woke up for what felt like the millionth time was that there wasn’t any pain. There wasn’t nausea, there wasn’t fear or sadness, there was calm.

The next thing was that he was lying against a firm chest and there were fingers running through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He couldn’t help the content sigh that bubbled up.

Tony was back home.

“I know you’re awake, Roo.” Came said man’s sleepy voice and Peter turned to look up at him, a dopey smile spreading across his face at the sight of his dad, the other half of his bond.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself. You feeling any better?” Tony asked him with a soft smile.

Peter ‘hmmed’ in response.

“Good. Me too.”

“You too?” Peter perked up, confusion on his face. Why had Tony felt bad?

Tony nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t have it as bad as you though, only some nightmares and a bit of nausea. It was 'cuz of our bond, Pete. We’ve been apart before but this trip stretched it too far, too soon. The distance as well as our own separation anxiety was too much and we ended up with the soulmate version of withdrawal. I don’t know the technical hooey balooey of it, you’ll have to ask Rhodey if you wanna know.” He explained before Peter could voice his confusion.

“Basically our bond just freaked on us as well as our regular trauma because, hey, why not?” Peter summed up wryly and Tony laughed.

“Yeah, basically. Not fun though, I would not recommend it.”

Peter nodded his agreement before burrowing back into Tony’s chest. He was exhausted and now maybe he could actually rest.

Hugging him closer, Tony moved a hand back to Peter’s curls. “I know you’re tired, Pete, and we can have a rest for now but later I want you to eat. May told me you threw up everything that you would have had in you and your metabolism can’t handle that.” Tony’s voice became slightly more stern before softening again. “I know it’s not your fault, but we’re gonna get that sorted when we get up later, yeah?”

“Yeah, but later. Wanna sleep.” Peter murmured as his eyes drooped. They were getting harder and harder to keep open.

He also knew without looking that Tony was quickly succumbing to the exhaustion as well, could hear it in his voice. The last week had tired them both out physically and mentally.

“Hmm. Sleep now, food later.” Tony agreed as he let his head fall back and relax into the pillow, his shoulder and chest being used as Peter’s pillow since the teen refused to move.

Tony didn’t mind at all, he only pressed a soft kiss to his son’s curls and squeezed Peter closer to him as he let his love and care flood their bond as they drifted off to sleep.

—

Later, when May went up to check on them for Pepper, she found the two still sound asleep, soft snores coming from both of them.

They stayed that way right through the night and halfway through the next morning.

Peter had no nightmares and neither did Tony, their sleep undisturbed and calm.

#agrafina writes #friendly neighbourhood exchange #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #soulmate au #platonic soulmates #marvel headcanon #mcuedit #fanfic #fanfiction #irondad fanfiction

47 notes · View notes

eloarei · 3 years ago

Text

A little rambling: on grief; and grieving a dog, a cat, an unborn child, and pieces of me that got hurt along the way.

2300 words under the cut.

It’s a very gloomy day today. I don’t usually mind; I like rain. But on a bad day, or a bad week, it only seems to insulate me in my own dark thoughts. That’s what today seems to be. I’ll work on fixing it later-- getting some exercise, sunlight if the clouds clear, making some tea. Should’ve done that already, but I forgot. Ate half a banana, at least.

As I’ve complained about a few times lately, I’ve just not been doing especially well. When and why did it all start? It’s hard to say, but this ‘unwellness’ spell seems most potent starting April 11th (my anniversary, unfortunately, which is why I can remember it), when I came down with a gruesome stomach bug. Really haven’t been feeling right since. I’m really bad about being sick; it scares me and I handle it badly. I assume that’s part of what has messed me up.

But grief is the other part, I think. Grief, and my being scared and worried that what caused it could strike again at any minute. Look, I’m... 32 now, and I’m sure that most people by this age have experienced profound loss. I’m probably not unusual, and I’m certainly not alone, but I think all the loss I’ve experienced is just piling up on me now, like there wasn’t enough time to process the new fresh ones before newer fresher ones came on, and so now even the old tough scars are aching.

When I was a teenager, my parents died. They were old, and it was health problems. It was not a surprise, but that didn’t make it easier to deal with in freshman year of high school. (What made it easier to deal with? Rabidly cleaning out the fridge and watching Lord of the Rings tapes the neighbors lent me. That’s all I did for three days after my mom died.) It’s been a long time-- more than half my life ago-- and I do feel like I’m ‘over it’, but sometimes it just wells up, tears from nowhere. Maybe that’s just how grief is.

A certainly had a good decade of my 20′s. I got married at 19, and had a pretty uneventful set of years. That felt normal to me. I do think, though, that the loss of my parents haunted me in that time, quietly. It influenced everything I did; it probably still does, if only because it changed the person I have become. But other than that, things were good, I think. My dog Roxy died two years ago, when I was 30, not long after I got back from seeing my siblings for the first time in ages. She was violently ill, and died right in front of us as we were getting ready to take her to the vet. I think I’ve written about it. In fact, the next day I wrote a depressing fanfic piece, certainly as a coping mechanism. (It made people cry, so, mission accomplished, I guess.) I think that helped a lot. A few months later, my in-laws’ dog died too, while mom-in-law was on vacation, and that was rough as well. I wrote another sad fanfic about death. I really like both of these pieces, because they mean something, and they’re very raw. Furthermore, I’ll always have them, as tokens for Roxy, Ginger, and the little pieces of me they crushed when they died. I don’t know if the exchange is worth it, but it’s what I have.

My grief over Roxy was gentle, as time went on. It didn’t bother me. I think I’d processed it well. I’d written out my feelings. I held her body in numb arms as my husband dug her grave. It was okay.

In early 2020, basically on my 31st birthday (and right as Covid was happening), I found I was pregnant. Long story short, those were the densest two months of my life, where everything seemed to change so quickly. My thoughts and feelings could fill so very many pages; this is not the place I’ll leave them. The point of this particular story is that it didn’t work out. The baby ‘died’ not terribly unlike Roxy had-- violently ill, in front of me, with far too much blood. I passed out three times-- the real start of this current fearful nature, because I cannot overstate how very much I felt like I was going to die. I went to the ER; it was miserable, an ordeal I could say quite a lot about. I won’t, though. I have before, and I likely will again, elsewhere.

This... This grief... I think I still don’t know what to do with it. I don’t think I ever will. Months later, I started writing a fic to deal with my feelings, though it took 90k words and many months before I got to the part where I could really delve into my trauma. And it has helped, I’m sure. I’m really sure. And I care about this fic so much, because like the others it is raw and real and it’s something I’d never have if not for my experience. Again, it may not be a fair trade, but it’s what I have.

I don’t grieve for the baby. It didn’t make it far enough to even have a heartbeat. It doesn’t have a name, a gender. It doesn’t have a grave. We let the hospital take care of it. But I still grieve. I’m sad. Wrecked. I grieve what it could have been. I grieve the hope that was spent and lost on it, a precious resource that will take a long time to grow back, if ever. I grieve over not only my own disappointment, but my husband’s, and my in-laws. They’ve never pressured us to have kids, but they’re in their 60′s now, with no grandchildren. I think they feel... lacking, in a way. I understand. I feel the same (though different). I wanted to give them that. I wanted to have that.

I still....?

I can’t say. I don’t know what I want. The event complicated my already complex emotions. I’m still waiting for them to simplify. Maybe they will, or maybe they won’t.

I was alright for a while. Stressed enough because of Covid and family’s declining health. Then in early April 2021, just a year after the miscarriage, I got badly sick. Gross, but not what most people would call a real issue. But only a year after the miscarriage, when my body betrayed me and I was at its horrid mercy, this felt like too much. Again I felt like I was going to die. A week of near delirious fever and nausea; I’d have handled it badly enough in any other circumstance.

As expected, I got through it. A horrible week, but just a week (or so). And then my dog Tobi died, just days later.

This is it. This is the one I... I’m speechless about. The one I... maybe haven’t processed enough. I was just back from the edge of being badly, violently ill. I didn’t have the energy to write, physically or emotionally. And that just made it worse. I love writing. It’s my outlet (surprising, I’m sure). I wanted to write. I thought I ought to write. I needed to write. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t muster the words. I still... can’t.

Tobi was... my baby. Not literally, of course. I didn’t conflate him with my lost child or anything. Tobi was 14. I’d had him since I graduated high school and got an apartment. Adopting him was one of the first things my husband and I did as an established adult couple, before we were even married. He was there, at my wedding. The photographer took a cute picture of me holding him before the ceremony. He was 11 months old at the time. Still had all his brown spots before they turned tan, then later white. He was there; he was always there. He was my entire adult life. And now I’ve lost him, the pup I had longer than my marriage (though soon we will outlast him). He was the big brother to all my other pets. He practically raised all the cats, and they adored him. (Tobi was a chihuahua, so they might have thought he was just another cat.)

He was a sweet boy, who loved his mom and dad first and foremost. When he was little, he was scared of everyone else. Eventually he warmed up to strangers and friends, and in his old age he mostly liked to nap somewhere on his own. He was silly and playful; he always chased the cats when they wanted to be chased. It was a game they all loved.

The vet... well, we took him in when he started to cough badly. He’d had a cough for a few months, but it wasn’t constant and didn’t seem to be affecting his quality of life much. But that day it was bad, so we took him. (We can’t afford frequent vet visits, so this was clearly desperate.) The vet took him and put him on oxygen. We had to stay in the car because they weren’t open for human guests. Then she came and told us a scan had revealed cancer, marbled through his lungs. He was suffocating. In fact, he wouldn’t likely even make it home, not even the two mile drive. We had to put him down. My husband and I cried like babies. We’d never put an animal down before. Generally speaking, we don’t really ‘believe in it’, if that makes sense. But faced with this situation, we had no choice.

I didn’t see him again. I think that’s the worst part, though it would have been equally bad to see him, I think. And it was all so sudden. He was playing and chasing the cats the day before. Begging for treats of human food. Barking at the Roomba. And then I had to pay hundreds of dollars to say goodbye to him. It felt so unfair. I cried all day. My husband and I, we just went home and laid down and wept.

But I still haven’t written about it, not in the way that I wrote about the others. For all that I wrote here, it doesn’t begin to encompass my deeper feelings on what it means that he is gone, and how I felt to have to make that decision. I have ideas. I think I know what I would write, if I could, but writing... still mostly eludes me. I may try. I probably should.

I take a deep breath. I know I should sum this up and take care of myself, but there’s yet a little more to say.

I think Tobi’s death is a large part of what affects me still, but several weeks ago I had what I could only call a panic attack. In the middle of the night I awoke, my heart beating rapidly, a horrible feeling of dread like certainty that all I could possibly do was die. It took over two days for me to feel mostly normal again, and then I still felt vaguely nauseous for two weeks. Then, just a few days ago, it happened again, but this time before bed. I could feel it rising in me, this indescribable sickness. It took several days ago before I felt normal. And this is where I am now.

Sadly, a little while after the first panic attack, my husband and I failed to save a malnourished feral kitten. It was not a surprise, but yet one more reminder of the fragility of life, and how little I can do to keep death away from those I care about. This poor thing, it was so desperate to live, but nothing we could do could save it. I could have poured all my time into trying, could have scrounged up money to take it to the vet (when I should take my own cats, who all have colds), but I know better. I know... so much of the time, there’s nothing you can do. And now I’m trying to help what might be its siblings, a few cute feral kittens nearby. My favorite seems... a little lethargic, and not very interested in eating the wet food and meat scraps I sometimes bring by. I don’t think there’s anything I can do, if it ends up being sick, if it ends up being malnourished. I can’t bring it inside when it could infect my own cats. I have to care for them first.

But knowing that it could die... it bothers me.

And knowing that I could die. I could die. I’m too aware of that, on top of everything else. I hate doctors, so I never go. (Also I’m poor.) This toothache? Could be a terrible abscess. My brother went to the ER for sepsis from an abscess tooth recently! That’s probably what caused the panic, to be honest. But then... why have I felt so week? Is there a problem with my blood? Am I sicker than I know? Do I have breast cancer? My grandma did, and I know I should get it checked out, but it’s just ONE MORE THING. It’s always like that.

And that’s... how I feel right now. Covered in ‘one more thing’s on rainy days and night-work schedules. Trying to take care of myself but not always knowing what that means. Lacking the inspiration to do the things I know I enjoy, because worry and apathy holds me back from everything.

I’m okay. Really. No day of mine is ever entirely without merit, and I have plans to do most of the things that should keep me healthy. But the day is short when my needs and long, and the day is long when I’m paralyzed by apathy.

So. I’ll just take it a moment at a time. And when I can, I’ll try to keep writing.

#elo talks #long post #personal but ok to interact

3 notes · View notes

cherrytdatt · 5 years ago

Text

Sadness Ritual pt. 2

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: ~6k (i really thought it would be shorter)

Summary: Tom wished he was the normal guy you wanted.

Warnings: one panic attack (nothing too graphic), angst, my bad language, and my bad writing.

A/N: Sadness Ritual pt 2 is here! I didn't wanna make a pt 2 but then i received this ask talking about a Tom pov and i thought it was the best idea ever, so i decided to try it. Now that i did it i kind of want a happier end for Tom and Y/N, so PLEASE let me know if you guys want a part 3 to end all this mess. OH! AND THIS IS ANGST AF!!!!!!

Request: SADNESS RITUAL WAS SO GOOD. But what if it was the other way around? What if Tom thinks the reader, a normal girl, would never choose him bc of his fame and how she always says she probably wouldn’t be able to handle it? Thanks in advance!❣️

***Playlist: “This is Lewis Capaldi” on Spotify.

Part 1

Tom looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair for the tenth time. "Fuck," he muttered, annoyed. "Fuck this shit!" he said, running his hand through his hair and messing it out even more. Tom was at his limit. He was forcing himself to go on a date just to try to feel something. Actually, he was on his third date with the same girl. He talked to her, he kissed her, they had sex, and nothing. Tom felt nothing. Well, he felt...regret, sadness, anxiety...not what he was looking for.

"Third date?" Harrison asked, leaning on the door, and looking at his friend's annoyed expression.

"Something like that," Tom said.

"This is getting serious?" he asked when Tom started trying to fix his hair again.

"It seems like," Tom said with a weak voice.

"Did you introduced her to any other friend?" Harrison was trying to make his friend talk. Something he didn't do for some time.

Tom glanced at Harrison, knowing what he was really trying to ask. "Not yet. She'll meet Tuwaine and Sam tonight," he said, looking at his reflection again.

"What about Y/N?" Harrison finally asked.

"What about her?" Tom was feeling more and more stressed.

"How long you think you can hide this from her?"

"I'M NOT..." he said, exasperated. "I'm not hiding anything," he defended himself. Harrison knew that Tom loved you, cause he told him months ago. Harrison also knew that you loved Tom, cause his girlfriend and your best friend, Anna, told him months ago. They tried not to force you two to face this mess, but Harrison was tired of seeing his friend struggling to get over a girl who loved him. However, every time he talked to Tom, the boy always said he was okay, and that there was nothing he could do, even if you liked him the same way, to make it work.

"Then what is it?" Harrison asked.

Tom took a deep breath, finally giving up on his hair. He was gonna wear a hat. "You wanna know something I want?" Tom asked rhetorically, leaning against the sink, and Harrison looked at him, hoping his friend would finally talk to him. "I want you to forget that I ever told you I like Y/N. I want you to go hang out with Anna and let me get over Y/N the best way I can," he walked to Harrison. “Please, do this for me," he patted his friend's shoulder and left the bathroom, going back to his bedroom. Harrison shook his head, sad for his friend.

The date was a nightmare. Tom didn't enjoy it at first, then he started drinking so he could start enjoying it. He got drunk, therefore he started talking and being clingy. In the end, his head was pounding, his heart was aching, and his guilt was more alive than ever. When he finally got home, all he wanted was to sleep and forget about the entire night. He laid in his bed, wishing for a short term amnesia. Why did he keep doing this? How long would he keep trying to like this girl and ignore what he felt for you? He looked at his cellphone that was by his side on the bed. He couldn't tell you. He tried. Almost a year ago.

"Look! I just found another pic!" you said animatedly, and already a little drunk, turning the phone so he can look at it. You laughed at his grumpy face in the picture.

"And that's why I hate LA," he said. "Only there these people follow me and take these pictures," he pointed at your phone.

You two had planned a movie night with Harrison and Anna, at least that was what you thought. What happened was that Tom asked Harrison to make something up and leave you and him alone, so he could finally talk to you about how he was feeling.

Tom starred at you while you scrolled trough stupid sites, looking for 'grumpy photos of Tom.' You always said you like to turn them into memes. "I don't know how you do this. I would die if someone took a picture of me and posted it online without my permission," you said. Tom always knew that you hated unexpected pictures. Actually, you hated pictures in general. Your Instagram feed had thirty pictures, all landscapes from places you traveled to. That was one of the reasons he rarely went out with you, and when you go out, he made sure that more people were around so people won't focus on taking pictures of you.

"You get used to it," he shrugged.

"I doubt that," you said absentmindedly, still scrolling. "Oh! Look at this one," you turned the screen so Tom could see. It was a picture of him, eating, and a girl he was out with, annoyed with something. "Best of luck for your next girlfriend, because this..." you pointed at the screen. "It's a lot to deal with," you laughed, not noticing the sad expression that appeared in his face. Tom just realized he couldn't tell you how he felt. Option one, you would turn him down, his heart would break and he would have to watch you live your life without him. Option two, you would like him back, but as soon as the world found out about your relationship, you would hate him for exposing you.

"You don't think I’m worth the effort?" he asked, his tone more serious than he wanted to. He was incapable to control his own voice.

"Sweetie, don't get me wrong. You're the best person I know, any girl would be lucky to date you. But this girl should be enjoying your company, and she's clearly not," you said. "And I'm sure that she's like that cause you were in a bad mood because of the paparazzi," you gave him a questioning look, making him smile.

"Let's just watch the movie," he changed the subject before you could notice his mood switch.

His heavy eyes opened slowly. The noises coming from the kitchen helped him to wake up completely. He searched for his phone. 10:32. He sat on the bed, holding his head. "Fuck!" he groaned. "Fucking stupid!" He got up, going to his bathroom. He needed a shower.

The shower and the smell of coffee was a relief. Tom put on a black jeans and headed to the kitchen. "'Morning," Anna said, seeing him enter the kitchen.

"Hey," Tom said, going to the coffeemaker and serving himself some coffee.

"Tough night?" Anna asked, spreading strawberry jelly in her toast.

"Drank too much," he said.

They both sat in silence, eating, and drinking the coffee. After breakfast, Tom went back to his room. He was in no mood to talk. He searched in his cabinet for some aspirin and something for his nausea. He laid in bed, turning his TV in some random golf game. But he wasn't really paying attention.

He unlocked his phone, going through his chats. His family chat was blowing up, just like his group chat with the boys. He clicked on your tab, looking at the meme you sent him the day before. He didn't answer cause he was on his way to the girl's house. He couldn't talk to you today. The memories were too fresh in his mind. He just stayed there, laid in bed, waiting for the pills to work. Things could be easier. They should be.

"So?" you asked, looking at him. You two were laid on your back on the floor of his living room.

"I'm thinking," he said, laughing.

"Jesus! It's just a color. Just pick one and I'll tell you if it'll look good or not," you rolled your eyes.

"Blue?" he said more like a question.

"What kind of blue?" you asked.

"I don't know," he shrugged, laughing. "How many there are?"

"At least tell me if it's light or dark," you tried.

"In the middle," he looked at you. You were starring at the skylight. The sun sparkling in your eyes, making them shine even more.

You laughed, shrinking your shoulders, he loved it when you do that. "So, they will give you a car, and you will pick a blue one? Not dark blue or light blue. A middle blue?" you asked turning to look at him.

"Exactly!" he said.

"You know what? Ask for a middle blue one. If you hate it, at least you didn't pay for it," you smiled.

"Good point," he said, and you heard the door opening. You sat, leaning on your arms.

"What are you two doing?" Harrison asked, stopping at the door with Anna by his side.

"Tom is getting a car, and we're trying to decide what color we want," you explained nonchalantly. Tom propped himself in his elbows, looking at the newly formed couple.

"How was your date?" you asked. You knew they would tell the truth no matter what. Your group of friends, that involved another four or five people, was this type of friend, that always tells the truth. If it was bad, they would say that they decided to stay friends, and everything would be okay. If it was good, good!

Anna bit her lower lip, holding a smile. "I think it was good," Harrison said, holding her by the waist, and looking down at her.

"Yeah...it was good," she looked at him.

"They are gonna get married, aren't they?" you whispered to Tom who laughed, shaking his head.

"Friends can do this?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Apparently, they can," you pointed at the couple that was in their own world. "I'm gonna be a shitty made of honor," you whined.

"I'm gonna be a great best man," Tom shrugged.

"We are going..." Harrisons said pointing to his room.

"Yeah, yeah. Go!" you cut him off, and they just left you two in the living room. "So, blue?" you asked, laying on the floor again.

"Blue!" Tom said.

He got the blue car, and you loved it for a while. But then it was so bright and so...blue. Tom started hating too. So much that, after a while, he just gave it to his mom and his brothers.

Tom looked at his phone again. 7:24. The day was getting darker and darker. A knock on his door woke him from his thoughts. He spent the whole day in bed between naps and self-hatred. "Hey, mate. How are you feeling?" Harrison asked getting into his room and closing the door behind him.

"Not great," Tom replied, propping himself up.

"Yeah...It'll get worst," Harrison warned, sitting in his bed. His face was a mix of worry and sadness.

"What happened?" Tom asked in a worried tone.

"Your date, yesterday, it's all over the internet," Harrison said, handing him his phone. A clear picture of him, holding the girl's hand. He didn't even remember doing this, but he was smiling, and the girl was too. He was fucked! He didn't tell almost anyone he was dating. His mom didn't know. You didn't know. Y/N! You crossed his mind. You would hate him for hiding something like this, and you didn't even know why he was hiding it.

"Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!" He said, getting up still looking at the pictures.

"It's okay, mate. I know it's not what you wanted, but it's okay. You're allowed to date," Harrison tried to calm him down.

Tom was freaking out, his breath was getting shorter, and his chest was hurting, his head was spinning. He fucked up big time.

"Tom?" Harrison called. He ran his hand through his hair. Why was this happening? And at that moment, he wished he wasn't famous. He wished he never did the Spider-Man movies. He wished he was a normal guy. That way these pictures would never exist and he would be the normal you want in your life. He needed to get out of his house. He handed Harrison his phone and left the room, putting on the first shirt and shoe he found.

"Where are you going?" Harrison followed him around the house.

"I'm going out," he said, getting his car keys.

"Tom..." Harrison called, but he was already out.

There was one place Tom could handle now. There was one person who would help him now. He drove the short way to their house. The familiar path. He stopped the car, getting out. He was still shaking, and for a split second, he thought that he shouldn't drive like that. He walked the little trail to the front door. Tom took a deep breath, the deepest he could at this moment, knocking on the door three times. His wait seemed longer than it really was. A noise inside warned him someone was home.

"Hey, mom," he said when the door finally opened.

"Hey, sweetie," his mom said, opening her arms to him. He hugged her like it was the last thing he was gonna do in his life. His eyes were burning, and he already could feel the tears emerging. "I'm sorry, baby," she said, caressing his head. His mom knew how much he hated being that exposed, she knew how much he was struggling the last months, and she had a feeling that the girl he liked wasn't the one in the pictures.

Tom played with the mug in front of him, trying to forget everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours. "Do you wanna talk about it?" his mom asked, looking at him.

Tom looked at her, and then again to his mug. "I...I just..." he was struggling. "How...did I let that happen?"

"It was not your fault, Tom. The pictures were not your fault. You are always careful, but these people are crazy. They stalk you, and never care about your privacy," his mom said.

"Yeah, but if I didn't have this job..." he started, but she cut him off.

"Don't say that! You love your job. A lot of great things come from your job. All the people you help, you just help because of your job. So don't regret having it. You just have to learn how to deal with this part of your job," she said.

"I know. But sometimes I just wished I was a normal guy, you know?" he cried.

"You are a normal guy. You clean the dishes, you argue with your brothers, you go out with your friends. These are all 'normal guy' stuff," she smiled.

"Yeah, but..."

"Look,” she looked at him expectantly, “Do you wanna tell me what's really bothering you?" she said and he looked at her.

"It's... it's Y/N," he finally said. His mom listened to the whole story. How he fell in love with you, but you kept saying that date him must be a nightmare because of the pictures and the stalk, even though he was the best person you ever met. He told her how he tried to tell you a few times about how he felt, but always gave up when you included the word 'normal' in your guy description after saying his life as crazy as hell. How after a few months he just gave up and tried to move on, dating other girls, and that was when this girl showed up. He told her he didn't have the courage to talk to you about the girl, because he rather tell you about how he loved you, instead.

"You may disagree with me, but I think she likes you too," his mom said afterward, earning a shocking and confused look from Tom. "First, I see you two together since you were twelve, and it's annoying how sometimes you ignore everyone else in the room but each other. Second, she says that but never refuses to go out with the boys and you, and this means that she hates the exposure, but she hates, even more, being apart from you. And I will end with the third one, even though I could go on forever. She would never say you are the best person in the world if she didn't think you are worth the effort," his mom said.

"I asked her if I wasn't worth," he said still not convinced.

"And what did she said?"

He tried to remember the night, which wasn't that difficult since he replayed your talk for days after it happened. "She was looking at some paparazzi pictures of me and a girl, saying how bad that girl’s life must be with all the exposure and I asked her if I wasn't worth it," he told her.

"And what did she said?"

"She said I was the best person in the world but the girl in the picture should be enjoying being with me, and she wasn't," he finished.

"Yes? And when is that the same thing that say you don’t worth the effort?" she asked with a smile in her face.

"It isn't?" he asked, a little hope appearing in his eyes.

"Of course not! She meant that the girl didn't like you enough to be happy there," she said. "If you want my opinion, I think she implied that you being 'the best person in the world', the girl was being an idiot for not enjoying your company," she finished.

"Do you really think this?" he asked.

"Why would I lie? By the way, I think you were scared of talking to her, and that's why you got everything wrong," she shrugged.

Maybe his mom was right. He was afraid to mess up your friendship and took him weeks to decide to talk to you. And when he finally decided, the first thing you said made him give up.

Tom went back to his house feeling a little better. Talk to his mom always helped. He still was regretting the night before, and still was afraid of talking to you, but now he didn't hate his job, and he had this hope that maybe you could love him back enough to handle all the bullshit in his life.

"Did you talked to Y/N?" Anna asked as soon as he got home.

"No," he started. But before he could say he was planning to, Anna cut him off.

"She doesn't answer my texts or call," she said, looking at him from the couch. "I think she's upset."

"Did you called her place?" he asked scrolling through his phone.

"No. I think you should go talk to her," Anna told him. She had an idea of why you weren't answering her, and only Tom could solve this.

"Y-yeah, sure. I'll..." he said, picking up his keys again and leaving.

'I talked to her. She's alive. But talk to her! You know what I mean!!!' Anna's text appeared on the screen of his phone, and he felt the air being pulled out of him.

He got into your building, breathing slowly, trying to calm himself. The time in the elevator looked like an eternity. When the door opened and your door came to his view, he thought he was going crazy for doing this. But now he was here, so he was gonna do it anyway. He walked to your door, and he could hear that annoying band you always listen to when you're sad. His heart broke, thinking about you being sad. He leaned his hands against your doorway, trying to calm himself the best he could. He knocked on your door three times. Not a change in the sound that was coming from inside. He looked at the floor seeing a shadow moving behind the door and that hurt him a little. You was hiding from him.

"I know you're in there. Let me in," he tried to sound as normal as he could. "I can see your shadow moving behind the door. Open up," he finished when you didn't answer.

"I'm not feeling so good. I talk to you later. Or text you." you said, but he wasn't giving up that easy. He thought about what his mom said.

"Please. I know you're lying. Your second best friend told me you were upset," he said, exposing her lie.

"Yeah... well, I'm upset cause I'm feeling sick," now he knew you were lying, and your lazy voice was a sign that you were probably drunk.

"You can't lie to me. I'm hearing that awful band you listen to whenever you're sad... and by your voice, I can tell you are drinking wine. No one who is feeling sick drinks wine," he said, feeling a little happy with how much he knew about you.

"Please, Tom... just leave me alone. We can talk tomorrow," he felt the sadness on your voice. He took a deep breath leaning his hand against the door.

"No way. I'm your best friend. I'm here to take care of you and I'm not gonna leave until you let me in," he said concerned. "I'm gonna spend the entire night on the floor, and all your neighbors will talk about how you let a cute movie star spend the night on the floor, and you will be a villain, and they will hate you forever," he joked seating on the floor by your door. He had to talk to you today.

"You're so idiot," you said, so low that he almost didn't hear.

"But you love me," he said, with a hopeful smile. 'I hope,' he thought.

He heard you walking and the song stopped. He did it! You would let him in. "I know you gonna let me in cause you turned off that awful music," he laughed.

"I didn't turn it off, I just turned down," he heard you.

"Why do you listen to such depressive music..." he started. "...when you're sad?" he finished, relief running through his body when he saw you.

"Do you want me to listen to a Barney song?" you quipped with a smile. Even though it looked like a forced smile, he was happy he let him in.

"First of all, tell me why you are sad?" he asked, hugging you, hoping you would tell the truth.

"No specific reason," you lied and he felt your body tense in his arms.

"Why are you so difficult sometimes?" he asked, entering your apartment before you could lock him out.

"I'm not difficult," you protested.

"Sure," he sat on your couch, picking up the glass of wine you were drinking. He was feeling the courage ran out of his body. He needed alcohol. Even if it was that disgusting wine you drank on these occasions. "And this awful cheap wine," he complained, feeling the extremely bitter taste of the wine go down his throat.

"Are you here to criticize me? Cause I didn't ask you to come," you said and he felt the bitterness in your voice.

"I'm joking, okay?" he explained himself.

"Okay," you mumble, sitting by his side. His heart was going crazy inside his chest. "I thought you were out with friends today?" you started before he could say anything.

"Who told you that?" he asked confused, he had no plans of going out tonight.

"Anna," you said.

"Yeah... she was wrong," he said, thinking if Anna told you about him storming out of his house. He looked at the TV, trying to hide the sadness in his eyes when he thought about his panic attack.

"I thought so... since you were out yesterday," you said, and he felt his body froze. How did you know about him going out? He asked Harrison and Anna not to tell you anything.

"How do you know that?" he asked, not wanting to look at you. He was panicking.

"Anna," you said, and an idea crossed his mind. Did you saw the pictures? "Did you had fun?" you asked, cutting his thoughts.

Tom was feeling the panic building in his body. "It could've been better if you were there," he said, trying to hide how dry his throat felt.

"Well, if you had asked me, I could've been there," you said, and he felt his chest tightening. He hummed, incapable of saying any words. He was feeling his entire body hurt. He couldn't think straight.

You got up, going to the kitchen with the glass and the empty bottle. He took deep breaths, trying to stay calm. His body relaxed a little. "You can sleep on the couch if you want," you said, and his heart fell. You were running away from him.

"Can I sleep with you?" he asked before he could think something else. He just wanted to be close to you.

"Sure," you shrugged. "I'm gonna... brush my teeth," you left the room, and Tom could hear his heart beating loud and clear. You knew about the pictures. He saw your notebook close to where you were seated. He looked at the hallway where you disappeared a few seconds ago, and without thinking much about what he was doing, he opened the notebook. The first thing he saw broke his heart in a million pieces. It was him holding that girl's hand. So you saw the pictures, and that was why you were sad.

Wait! His mind started working again. If what was bothering you was the fact that he didn’t tell you about the girl, you would be mad, not sad. And you would scream at him, not hide from him. But you didn't scream. You were sad. That could mean his mom was right. You liked him. He felt his heart beating fast. A confident smile appearing on his face.

He closed the notebook again. A stingy feeling in his stomach when he focused on the picture again before closing. He got up, going to your bathroom. "Can I use the bathroom?" he asked, not hearing a noise from inside.

"Yeah. I'm almost done," you said, and he leaned on the doorway, not able to hide the smile in his face, thinking that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“What took you so long?” he asked with a smile, the feeling that his mom was right growing inside him.

“I-I’m going… to bed,” you said, and he nodded.

“I’ll meet you there,” he said, going into the bathroom. He was feeling almost normal again. Tom looked at his reflection. His hair was a mess, but he didn't care. You always said he looked good like that. He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush he left at your home a few months ago. Before he left the bedroom he looked at himself one more time, promising internally that, no matter what happened from that moment on, you two would end up together. Even if he had to take classes to learn how to be the normal guy you wanted.

He walked out of the bathroom, going to your bedroom. “Do you still have those sweatpants I gave you a couple months ago?” he thought about how you looked so good in his clothes, that he had to give them to you.

“Yeah, I think it’s somewhere in my closet,” you said. “Maybe… the second drawer,” you instructed, seeing he wasn't finding it.

He opened the drawer finding the sweatpants and the shirt. “Lucky me I gave you this,” he smiled, taking off his pants. You avoided his look. He decided to try again and ask you why you were sad. “So when are you gonna tell me why you’re sad?” he said, putting the sweatpants.

“Uh-hum… I just told you, no specific reason,” you lied again.

“You know I know you too well to believe in that, right?” he tried, taking his shirt off. He felt your eyes on him, and he bit his lips trying not to smile at your charmed expression. After a few seconds, he decided to cough to get your attention back. You looked at him, and he pressed his lips together, that smile still fighting to appear.

“I think it's that time of the month,” you finally said.

“Sure,” he rolled his eyes, knowing you were lying. He knew you had your period two weeks ago, cause he invited you to go to his house and you said no, cause you were on your period. He then sent you food and medicine. “Do you mind if I sleep shirtless?” he asked.

“No,” you said.

“Thanks,” he gave you a small smile, jumping on the bed. Tom felt the urge to hug you. He turned on his side, putting a hand on your waist, and leaning closer to you. You took a deep breath, and for a second he thought you were gonna say something. But instead, you turned your back to him. Tom felt his heart break a little. Those pictures really hurt you. He hurt you. “You know I would never hurt you on purpose,” he whispered. He was really sorry. He would give everything to go back in time, cancel that date and go talk to you, instead. Right now, if it was possible, he would take away all the sadness you were felling, and tell stupid stories until you laugh, that laugh that made you shrink your shoulders. Tom felt you relax in his arms, and your breath was calmer. He looked over your shoulder. You were sleeping. He hugged you tighter and kissed your neck.

Tom woke up with the noise of the door closing and the empty bed. He rubbed his eyes, sighing. He turned on the bed, looking for his phone. 3:07. He got up and left the room. The light on your kitchen was up, and he heard your muffled voice. “Who are you talking to?” he said, still a little confused from his sleep.

“Jesus!” you said, startled. “A warning would be good.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, feeling his dry throat. He picked the glass that was in your counter, filling it with water.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you said.

“No problem. Are you okay?” he asked, drinking the water. He was worried about you.

“Great,” you said, but your voice was sad. Tom was tired, his mind was weird and he felt his heart hurt. He couldn't handle this anymore.

“Can you stop lying to me?” he said, not being able to control his voice or the sudden urge to solve things.

“I-I’m not lying,” you lied and he noticed you couldn't even look at him.

“Are you serious?” he put the glass on the counter and tried to control his head.

“I’m s-sorry. I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m good… everything is good… I’m sad because…” you started, and he felt stupid for thinking you would tell the truth. “I don’t know. Maybe PMS or whatever,” you blurted out.

He was just tired. He felt his eyes and his throat burning. “Okay,” he laughed dryly. “So, tell me something…” he needed to see the truth in your eyes. “Why were you looking at pictures of me with a girl that I went out yesterday?” his voice was low. You flinched, still avoiding his eyes. “Tell me, Y/N,” he got closer. “Why were you in your 'sadness ritual’ looking at those pics?” he didn't understand why you didn't tell him what was really in your head. All he wanted, was for you to tell the truth. “Do you have something to tell me?” he asked, leaning on the counter. “Anna thinks you do. And Haz too,” he said.

“Tom I…” you started. “I…” his heart was beating so fast. You cleared your throat, and Tom tried to keep himself calm. “I think you should go,” you finally said.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “W-what?” he asked, confused.

“I really think you should go,” you repeated. “I need to be by myself tonight. I’m really not feeling okay and I need some time,” you pushed him away.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he said, not hiding the hurt in his voice. You looked hurt too.

“Please…” you avoided his look.

“You know that this is not what you really want to say," he cried. He knew more than ever that you liked him. He didn't understand why you were doing this. "You know you’ll regret this. Don’t do this,” he pleaded, reaching for your arm but you pulled away. “Y/N.” he said.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” you raised your voice. “Really? What do you want me to say?” you were struggling not to cry. “Do you want me to tell you what I felt when I saw the pictures of you with a girl you invited out and didn’t tell me about, God knows why," you said with hurt in your voice. He hurt you, more than he could imagine. He clenched his jaw, feeling his body tensed up. "Do you want me to tell you why I felt so sad that I had to do my 'sadness ritual’ to keep myself from screaming at you or broking my computer?” your voice was bitter. His nails were hurting his palms. “You know what I have to tell you. You can pretend you don’t know, you can mess around all you want, but you know that you are not ready to hear what I have to say,” you rubbed your eyes, holding your tears. “What I don’t know is why are you doing this?” you asked sincerely. “Why are you here? It looks like you have a good thing," you said referring to the girl he went out. "Go enjoy it and… let me be, please.”

Tom was feeling his head pounding. He couldn't take it anymore. “You don’t see it, do you?” he finally said. His voice was low. He felt tears falling.

“What? What I don’t see?” you asked.

“I don’t wanna be with nobody else," he finally confessed. "I’m trying to tell you this for the last year and you keep ditching me," he thought about every time you said you hated his lifestyle. All the times you said you wanted a normal guy. "You don’t listen to me,” his voice was sad. “I love you. I want you. Please, don’t make me go,” he said, feeling that was his last chance.

“You can’t say that one day after you went on a date with another girl,” you were hurt, and he felt the guilt eating him alive.

“Please, Y/N. Don’t do this,” he reached for your arm, pulling you closer.

“I love you, but I need some time to think,” you said without looking at him, and he felt that was the worst that could happen.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #i’m not good at this and yet i’m doing it #tom holland fluff #fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland scenario #tomhollandxreader #blurbs #tom holland angst #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x female reader #tom x y/n #tom holland x y/n #tom hollandxreader

180 notes · View notes

babygirlgalitzine · 4 years ago

Text

i can’t get over the way (you love me like you do) - chapter six (ao3)

Ben's lazing across the sofa, the position of his body in a slump. One of his hands is against his chest, thumb stroking lightly at the material of his shirt, the other dangling low and just reaching the carpet. One leg is up and spread all the way across the sofa, reaching the other side, the heel of his foot resting upon the arm of the seat, whilst his other leg is down and stopping him from falling if he rolls over at any point. The television is playing, and some old show that Ben vaguely remembers from when he was a child is crackling through the screen, but bar looking in its direction, he's taking no notice of it. His mind is a mess. All he thinks about is Callum this, Callum that. He's numb to everything else, really.

It's been a week. It's been one whole week, seven entire days since Ben and Callum had their argument. Since then, Ben's been hiding away, only ever leaving the house for work, and then coming home with his head hung low and his feet heavy like concrete. Everyone arounds him believes they've broken up, and in a way, they have - but this is even worse than that, because Ben's lost Callum as a friend first and foremost. He's heartbroken, completely at a loss without him. He misses being able to text Callum whenever he wants, even if just to tell him a stupid joke. He misses drinking with him. He misses watching films with him. He misses just being in Callum's presence, and he misses how happy Callum makes him.

Lola's standing at the kitchen door leading into the living room, watching Ben with a forlorn look on her face. She unfolds her arms, and swings around so she's now back in the kitchen, shaking her head. Jay and Kathy are sitting at the table. "Callum told us they had an argument." Lola explains, her voice low so that Ben doesn't hear. Not that he probably would anyway, considering he's been zoning out of every conversation people have been trying to hold with him all week. "But he's still refusing to tell us what it's all about. It's driving me insane. They're both so unhappy, but neither of them are taking that step to talk to each other again."

Kathy shakes her head. "I'm tempted to just bang their heads together." She says. "He's been like this for days, moping about."

"Callum's the exact same." Jay says. "He's acting like he's fine, but you can tell he's not okay. Even at work, he's mixing up orders, dropping things, getting angry. Whatever they argued about, it's affecting both of them really badly."

Lola nods. "They aren't the same without each other." She concludes.

They're silent for a moment, trying to mull things over in the minds.

"I can hear you, you know?" Ben shouts from the other room, his voice dull and empty of emotion.

Three heads jerk up at the same time, and they watch Ben as he sits upright for what feels like the first time in days. He's got bags under his eyes, all brown and swollen. He's barely shaven, his beard now long in length and thick for the first time.

"Love." Kathy says, her best caring mum voice now in full swing. "We're just worried about you. You aren't sleeping, you're barely leaving the house. It's not normal, darling. I'm sure that whatever you and Callum argued about wasn't so bad that you can't sort it all out. Forget your relationship, just don't go ruining your friendship with him, because above all, that's what really matters."

Ben scoffs, and shakes his head, standing up in a swift movement that causes a crack at his knees. "You don't know nothing." Ben spits venomously. "So just leave it. All of you." He storms off upstairs, thundering steps ricocheting through the house with every anger filled movement he leaves behind.

Kathy's standing behind the till in the cafe, watching people coming and going. It's the busy morning rush, albeit now the end of it, and through it all, Callum's been sitting in the back of the cafe, half hidden from view, nursing a cup of tea that has surely long since gone stone cold. He looks lost too, exactly like Ben. His hair is flat and obscuring his forehead. He's got bags under his eyes, matching with Ben's, and he's sitting in a slouch, his shoulders hunched over, his posture a stark contrast to his usual one. He yawns, and Kathy can see his eyes start to water afterwards. She picks out a tissue or two from a box she keeps next to the till, and walks over to him, noting that the cafe is now nearly empty following the morning swarm of busy workers and school children. She drags out the seat that's opposite Callum on the same table, and sits down without him looking up. She puts a comforting hand on his wrist, and passes him the tissues. He takes it gratefully, and smiles when he realises that it's from Kathy - though the smile doesn't reach his eyes like it usually would.

"I'm assuming this is all because of my son." Kathy says, breaking the silence between them.

Callum fumbles out a scoffing laugh, wiping his eyes dry of any remaining tears that escape. "Is it really that obvious?" Callum asks. "How is he?" Typical Callum, wondering how other people are even when he's in such a state himself.

"Exactly like you." She confirms with a warming smile on her face. "He's barely eating, barely sleeping. Only leaving the house to go to work, and then coming home straight away. It's like he's lost without you."

Callum's eyes fill with tears once more, and he swiftly dabs them with the tissue.

"Can you really not sort it out?" Kathy asks. "What's so bad that you two can't even be friends?"

Callum lets out a sigh, and his body slumps even further, a wave of nausea curling throughout him. "It's my fault." He admits. "I need to be the one to sort it out. Whether Ben wants to sort it out himself, is another question. I hope he does. It's like I'm missing part of me without him."

Kathy places a hand on Callum's, enveloping him. "Well between me and you. Ben's not gone to work today, so if you really want to sort it all out, I'd suggest going over to the house to speak to him whilst everyone's out."

Callum looks down at the table and inhales a shaky breath. "Yeah." He says. "I really should. Is it okay if I go now?"

Kathy nods, a warming smile on his face that only a mother could give. "Course it is." She stands, following Callum's own movements, and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Let yourself in, the door's unlocked."

---

Callum's standing on the concrete outside of the house, his hand dangerously close to the door handle. His hand is floating over the metal, his mind running at a million miles an hour, trying to decide if he should just walk in, or knock. He shakes his head with his eyes shut, and feels the cool metal against his skin as he pushes it down and opens the door. There's a squeak from the hinges, and Callum inwardly cringes, because he feels like he's trespassing, even though he has permission to just walk in.

"Ben?" He calls out, though his voice is not nearly as loud as he thought it was.

He walks into the living room, and sees Ben spread out on the sofa, head resting on his fist, watching the television. It overwhelms Callum, seeing Ben after a week. It's probably the longest they've ever gone without speaking to each other. "Ben." Callum breathes out.

Ben looks up at him through hooded eyelids and fluttery eyelashes, exhaustion clearly evident on his face. "What do you want?" He asks, sadness in his voice.

Callum's heart pangs with an ache of hurt, knowing that he's the one responsible for Ben feeling like this. He crouches down, so he's now face to face with Ben. His eyes are stinging, tingles of remaining tears hurting him. "Your mum let me in. I want to apologise, for everything."

Ben looks everywhere but at Callum, his eyes scanning around the room in a desperate attempt to find something even remotely interesting, because he can't bring himself to look directly into Callum's ocean blue eyes. Callum places his hand on Ben's cheek, warm and inviting, and Ben nearly melts.

"I'm sorry." Callum whispers. "I shouldn't have made a big deal out of it. I just got scared, terrified that I'd ruin everything for us. I guess I did in the end." He shrugs.

Ben sits up, swinging his legs around so they reach the floor. He shakes his head lightly. "I'm the one that should be apologising. I should never have suggested it, it was a stupid idea."

"It was fun." Callum admits, because honestly, it was. "I guess I just got scared, but I don't regret any of it - only the argument."

Ben smiles softly, because he knows what Callum's trying to say. He looks down at his lap, thumbs twisting around the other, before he looks back up at Callum shyly. "Are we good?" He asks.

Callum intakes a sharp breath through his nose, and smiles. "Yeah." He confirms. "We're good."

They share a look, eyes scanning eyes, but not for long, because Ben launches himself at Callum, pulling the older man in for a hug. They've both missed this. Ben's fingers thread through the hair at the back of Callum's head, holding them close. Callum's head is buried in Ben's shoulder, breathing him in. It's relaxing, a comfort, to be able to hold like this. Ben releases his hold on Callum, and Callum remains in the hug for a moment or two, wanting to savour it after a long week of not being able to do this. When he eventually pulls away, his hands are still encapsulating Ben's ribs, warm hands melting into his skin. Ben's hands remain in the thin parts of Callum's hair, feeling it under his fingertips, and they're just looking at each other, smiles on their faces, genuinely happy. Something comes over Ben, and he leans forward, breath swirling out of his nostrils as it hits Callum's skin. His lips press against Callum's, soft and peaceful and grounding. There's a scrape of chapped lips, not the usual smoothness of silky plump lips, but it makes it all the more real. Callum screws his eyes tightly shut, and falls into the kiss before he realises what's actually happening, and pushes Ben off of him with a harshness.

"No!" He mutters out, wiping his lips with the back of his hands, as if that's going to do something.

"Wha-" Ben breathes out, shoulders slumping once again. Confusion is written all across his face, looking depleted. "You just said you don't regret it!"

Callum rubs his hand over his face. "That doesn't mean you can just kiss me like that again, it's just confusing me."

"Why not?" Ben asks, holding his hands up.

Something bubbles inside of Callum, threatening to escape with every second that passes. "Because I like you!" He explodes. "I like ya, and I know you'' never feel the same way."

Callum stands up, a crack of his knees breaking up the tension of the silence between them. He turns his body away from Ben, not wanting to see his face when Ben inevitably breaks his heart.

Ben lets out a soft chuckle, barely audible. "I love you." He admits, finally. His voice is shaky, but he's never been more sure of what he's saying in his life. "I've been in love with you since we met."

There's an aching silence in the room. The air runs cold, and neither of them are looking at the other. Ben's words echo, a constant repeat circling around Callum's mind. He said he loves him. Loves.

Callum turns his body slowly, redness spread right across his cheeks, tears welling up in his eyes. "What?" Callum asks, his voice quiet and shy and nerves run all the way through him, right down to the tip of his toes. He watches Ben with a soft adoration on his face, and his head is downcast, staring at the floor. He's shy, all of a sudden. Callum walks forward, closer and closer to Ben with every moment that passes. He crouches down, and hooks a finger underneath Ben's chin, pushing slightly, so that Ben takes the hint to look at Callum's face. When he eventually does, Callum produces the softest smile, and Ben's unable to do anything but replicate the smile - Callum's infectious when it comes to that. "What did you just say, Ben?"

"That I love you." Ben breathes out, watching Callum's reactions.

Callum's finger remains under Ben's chin, his stubble prickling at his skin, but his thumb brushes over Ben's bottom lip. Tears well up in Callum's eyes, and he feels like crying, not for the first time today. Callum leans forward, and Ben watches his every move in anticipation, but nothing could prepare him for the reality of tingles that Callum causes him to have when their lips touch. Ben nearly jerks back at the feeling, and Callum grins against his lips, wanting, needing more. Ben moves his hands to the back of Callum's head, pushing them even closer together, if that's even possible, and his legs start to wrap around Callum's body from where he's crouching down. He chuckles against Ben's lips, and moves to stand up, towering over him, though he doesn't pull away. His body towers over Ben's, leaving Ben craning his neck as Callum moves, until Callum's half stradling Ben. They stay there for a few moments, maybe even longer, not caring about keeping track of time. Callum eventually pulls away, allowing them to get their breath back, though Ben's willing to say he doesn't care about being able to breathe, as long as he's kissing Callum. Fingers are against Ben's cheek, skin touching skin, and Callum's looking down at him with a beaming grin, lips glossy and red and plump.

"I love you too."

#ballum #ben x callum #ben mitchell x callum highway #ben mitchell #callum highway #myfic

24 notes · View notes