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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

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Πᾰ́σχω (νοσταλγία deleted scene)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Πᾰ́σχω (páskhō): to feel an emotion or impulse; (in negative sense) to suffer (Ancient Greek)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: So, another deleted scene/chapter. This takes place between chapter 21 and chapter 22 (After Ivar’s PoV chapter)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: My horrible writing, but aside from that nothing other than the usuals lol

A/N: I’m sorry I’ve been posting so many things for this story and others lol. I’ll probably slow down closer to the holidays, give you guys a break from me.

Thank you, hope you give this a chance and hope you like it. Love ya

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls

One of the first mornings you wake a wife to someone, you find yourself surprised to find Ivar continues to sleep when you awaken. Unusual would be an understatement, since you usually wake up every morning because of the ruckus the thralls make when walking in at the request of the King, or he wakes you by promptly lifting the furs off you when he gets out of bed.

For a few moments -that you’ll deny to your very grave ever happened- you lay in the soft light of the morning and let your eyes hungrily take in his features when he lies relaxed in sleep; you let yourself forget what brought you here and what awaits you in the world past the two of you and imagine a life of this, of quiet mornings and safety and peace, a life where it wouldn’t feel like a betrayal to who you are to lean closer and chase the warmth of his skin or the thrill of his lips on yours.

But that isn’t the life you have, and even if your heart is soft and foolish, it is also proud and stubborn. So, you slip from under the furs and walk away silently to get dressed.

You are lifting your hair up in a simply updo when Ivar’s voice calls out to you.

“Your dress,” He points out, “It’s still unlaced.”

You bite back a smile and feeling a strange thrill run through you at the subtle change in his voice when he first wakes up. Choosing not to dwell on it, you walk to the bed where he still lays, sitting down on the edge of his side of the bed and turning your back to him, a silent prompt for him to lace it for you.

He huffs in what in another life, a life of less pain and less harshness, could have been a laugh; and starts working the laces at your back.

But there’s no hiding the trembling in his hands, and you straighten as cold fear runs down your spine. You turn around with the foreboding of someone used to noticing people’s pain, you meet his eyes with the calculating gaze of a healer.

“Your eyes are…” You whisper before you can trap the words behind your lips. Blue.

A shield wall forming before your very eyes would be a more subtle change than the one Ivar has at the mention of it. His expression hardens, his eyes grow cold and his voice is that of the King of Kattegat instead of that of the man you married when he orders,

“Get out. You have a day to get on with.”

You frown, and your tongue begs to ask questions stubbornness does not let past your lips.

You’re carefully pulling your hair into a half-updo when Ivar makes the first attempt to get out of bed. He succeeds, but he doesn’t succeed in masking the very obvious pain he is in, nor in making you feel any less worried.

You’re fastening a cloak around your shoulders when he finishes putting those iron contraptions around his legs, with more difficulty than usual. You’re once again told, by either the instinct that made you a good healer in the Roads, or something else, that he isn’t well, that he’s in pain, that…that something is wrong.

“Are y-…”

Whatever it is you were to ask dies in your throat with a choked gasp as you watch him fall to the ground. The sound of a bone snapping out of place is something you are very familiar with, but the scream of pain it draws out of Ivar is not something a thousand years could make you be used to.

You realize you’ve stepped closer when your husband brandishes a knife your way.

It unsettles you less than it should, it surprises you even less. You have the errant thought of whether Kattegat and her King have succeeded in making you lose your mind.

“Get. Out,” He bites out, but you can still hear the pain in his voice. You can still tell that knee is not properly set, and you know how to fix it. If he’d just let you… “Get out!”

Your words die in your throat, but your fear of him died long ago, so you don’t say anything, but you also don’t leave.

He moves with gritted teeth and strain written all over him to sit on one of the lower chairs. When his eyes lift to meet yours again, you see not only the expected pain and fury written in them, but also…shame.

And Ivar’s eyes fall from yours, and a cold hand grips at your heart but nothing of who you are can make this better. If you are as hardship made you, stubborn and arrogant and sharp-tongued, he’ll only fight back at you until there’s nothing left of either of you. If you are as nature made you, soft and gentle and loving, he’ll only think you pity him, mock him.

But he doesn’t give you a choice. Sharp orders he barks at nothing summon two thralls and a stoic Whitehair that stands tall in your doorway.

The older warrior looks at you with the impassiveness of a man following orders, but you turn your eyes to your husband.

“I don’t want you here.” He spits out, poison and vitriol.

You stomp your way out of the room.

____

You pointedly avoid Whitehair’s expectant stare as you pace on the other end of your bedroom door.

“Stubborn, insufferable, hot-headed…”

“It will take a while to list it all, my Queen.” The man dryly points out, startling a laugh out of you, but you shake off the brief levity it brings just as quickly.

“I should be in there.” You point out. The older warrior sighs, and leans back against a wall, arms crossed.

“But you aren’t.”

You bite down words about how perceptive he has proven to be, and instead shrug.

“I was kicked out of my own room,” You turn your eyes to the door, and bite out, “I’m a good healer, one of the best.”

“You are his wife.”

“All the more reason I should be allowed to help him.”

“He doesn’t want you to think him weak.”

“I d-…”

“I know, little one,” He interrupts, nodding his head. You are stunned into silence at the term of endearment no one except your mother has used on you. He looks at you with a reluctant softness in his one good eye, strangely paternal when he shrugs, “But he doesn’t. He is young, he’s yet to learn many things.”

Another scream you never wish to hear again pierces the dull silence between you and the man assigned to guard you, and you flinch away with a curse from the source of the pained scream that quickly morphs into an enraged yell.

Turning your back to the door, you start making your way quickly and confidently to the apothecary.

Whitehair’s voice is a quiet grumble when, as he trails behind you, he states, “You are also Queen of Kattegat. Don’t forget that.”

Your steps falter as you realize the meaning behind his quiet words, but still you say nothing and continue walking.

____

Valdís raises her gaze from the dried herbs she’s working on when you enter, a smile ready on her lips that falters when she sees you.

The shieldmaiden stands without a moment of hesitation, crossing the room to get to you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Her hand finds your shoulder. “You are shaking.”

Gritting your teeth, you mumble you are well, and walk past her, towards the back of the apothecary. You feel Valdís walking behind you, tense and ready to face whatever it is that has upset you, ever the shieldmaiden.

You walk up to the elder and raise your chin.

“I wish to speak with you.”

“Of course, my Qu-…”

“Not as Queen of Kattegat,” You interrupt, but your steel resolve falters when you pick your next words. Running your tongue over dry lips, you amend, “As…as Ivar’s wife.”

The woman of white hair nods once, and motions for you to take a seat. At your hesitation, she chuckles, but says nothing as she does sit down on one of the chairs.

“Speak, my Qu-…my dear.”

“I know what he has told me, not what a healer could tell me.”

“Ah,” She murmurs, “Broken bone?”

“Displaced.” You correct.

And so the elder leans back on her seat, weathered hands folded over her stomach, and tells you what she knows. You cling to the words, reminiscent of those lessons the healers of the roads would give the wide-eyed girl you once were, and learn as much as you can of Ivar’s condition, what it means, how to treat it, what causes it, what worsens it.

She mutters she doesn’t know anything more of it, and so you nod, and ask,

“And who is the healer that-…”

“No one, I’m afraid. Usually a thrall will take care of the most pressing matter, and the King will prefer to handle it alone.”

“That’s…”

“Stupid?” Valdís offers from behind you. You offer a shrug, but yes.

“Before he became King, I was close to the healer that was to help him. Since he returned from England, he refuses to…be helped.”

“Why?”

“He’s-…”

“Paranoid.” Valdís states when the elder hesitates, and earns herself a wooden bowl thrown at her head by the older woman. The shieldmaiden laughs, but mumbles that it’s true.

“Reluctant,” The elder amends pointedly, “to be seen like this.”

“Would you be willing to help him now?” The woman hesitates, and you press, “If I asked?”

“If my Queen demands I do, of course.” Is what she settles for saying, and you accept the meaning behind her words with a sigh.

Valdís sees your resolve shining in your eyes, for the blonde rolls her eyes and mutters a curse.

“Sure, refuse to do as he says,” She grumbles, walking away, “That’ll work out.”

____

Shortly after, you walk to your room’s door with your head held high, your steps certain and your demeanor that of the woman your mother hated seeing in you.

You tilt your head to the side, keeping your eyes on the Thebesian, “I don’t think you understand, Narses. I said we will sail for Laconia.”

“The Spartans w-…”

“Your Anassa gave you an order,” You interrupt, not saying anything else and keeping your eyes on the warm ones of the man that claims to love you but wants to keep you obedient and quiet. When Narses keeps stubborn eyes on you, you insist with raised eyebrows, “It is best you obey me.”

He rolls his shoulders and grits his teeth, but eventually bows his head and leaves the tent. You don’t realize you keep holding on to the tension in your frame until your mother laughs.

“By Freyja and all the Gods, little one,” Sieghild runs a hand over her face, another short laugh leaving her lips, “You can blame your impulsiveness, your stubbornness, many of your faults on me. But that, that you cannot.”

Galla chuckles from her place at your side, still not lifting her dark eyes from the map before her.

“Annoying, is it not?” She spares you a glance from the corner of your eye, “Born with a crown on her head, this one.”

“What is it you can inform me of?” You ask the man set firmly by the door. He hesitates, but tells you that the King is resting for now, that he hasn’t heard anything in a while.

You move to enter the room, and the man moves to stop you.

A stray memory makes its way into your head when you hesitate by the door, meeting the eyes of the warrior that was given instructions by your husband not to let you in, and you hear the words as if they were spoken by your ear.

“Don’t lie to me, Priestess. You were made to rule, to command. Don’t pretend otherwise with me.”

And so you keep your spine straight and your eyes cold, “Move.”

“I-…”

“You will move.” You insist, tilting your head back to look at the man but not faltering in your stance.

In a result that surprises you, and stuns you for longer than it should, he does.

Thankfully Ivar isn’t here to see you begrudgingly accept he was right about something.

“Did he pass out, or did you give him something?” You ask quietly as you walk in, barely sparing a glance at the man that kneels by the fire.

The thrall stumbles into standing, and the first thing you do is eye his hands. He doesn’t look like someone trained in healing, much less trained in settling bones back into place.

“I-I…we didn’t give the King anything.”

The confirmation that the pain was enough to leave him unconscious makes your stomach tighten to a knot, and irrational and misdirected anger rise in you.

“Get out.”

You close your eyes and take a breath, trying to clear your head. There was a reason why you never treated those you…those close to you. A soft heart is a good quality in a woman, but not in a healer.

You need a steel spine and steady hands, you need unblurred eyes and certain voice. You need strength, and coldness, and distance.

You can muster the first of those, but when it comes to the insufferable man that the Gods fated to be your husband, you fear you can’t say the same about the other two.

“M-My Qu-…”

You lift an eyebrow, returning your eyes to his.

“I don’t like repeating myself. You are dismissed. If I call for you, you will go to the healers. Valdís knows who to send if needed.”

He bows his head, and leaves the room quickly enough, leaving you with the feeling he was ultimately relieved he doesn’t have to be here anymore.

You watch him leave, and when the door closes behind him, and you are left alone with Ivar, you feel something within you quiver and give away fragility.

It is easy, finding the routine of getting to work, finding your center in picking the right herbs and remembering old instructions.

Yet you find your gaze finding the figure of your husband on the ample bed, eyes squeezed shut at the pian that you see making his body tighten to a coil every few moments, brow shining with the sweat of exertion and teeth gritted to keep most of the sounds of pain at bay.

Refusing to let go of control even when unconscious, you realize. And it doesn’t surprise you.

You’ve come to know a lot about him, in these past months. From Aneridge, to those days on route to Kattegat, to the time you’ve spent as his prisoner and as his wife in this kingdom of cold. Not a thousand years at his side, you realize, not all the trust in the world and all the spilled secrets, would give you an inkling as to what life has been like for him.

His manic conviction that the Gods were to reward him for enduring pain and grief and sorrow for years on end; his certainty you were, if nothing else, a gift for having endured a lifetime of pain; it is understandable, you realize.

Something you will never forget or forgive, you are certain, but something you can understand.

You were barely ten when you first worked on willow extract. The motions for making it are by now engrained in your mind, and you could close your eyes and follow the directions countless teachers gave you.

Still, because you cannot help the stubborn softness that makes you who you are, your foolish heart that betrays your every ambition, your hands that shake as you prepare the tincture.

“Remember Aneridge?” You muse, even though you know you’re talking to yourself, “I gave you willow bark to help with the pain. This is…a stronger version of it. Bitter and yet sour. Awful, really.”

You open your mouth and you are ready to continue talking, even if to fill the silence and focus on something that isn’t the shaking of your hands, but you find Ivar’s eyes -like you’ve never seen them, clouded in pain and confusion, lost- set on you.

He murmurs your name, voice so quiet you almost read it on his lips instead of hearing it.

“You’re here.” He says, soft, with a strange mix of confusion and wonder. You are struck silent for so long, lost in the shades of blue of his eyes, on him.

And you think numbly to yourself that it is he they should whisper is capable of magic, for you feel the words being pulled from your lips as if under a spell.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The words settle in your chest with the realization of how true they prove to be.

You swallow down that shame, and take a breath, lowering your gaze to your hands.

When you raise your eyes again, Ivar’s eyes are closed again, and even if there’s a furrow of his brows, the tension that speaks of pain written all over him, and his breathing is still the irregular pattern of trying to not let the pain win, it seems he is once again asleep.

When he wakes up again, you’re carefully examining the chess pieces he keeps on a nearby table, and become aware he’s woken up when he grunts how you shouldn’t be here.

“You should know better than to tell me what to do by now.”

“I didn’t want you to…to see,” That wasn’t what you expected. You expected anger, vitriol, not…resignation. Before you can ask what he means, he turns his head and once again faces the ceiling. A hoarse and bitter laugh that rattles inside your head leaves his lips, and he mumbles, “Thought I could make you forget.”

Realization dawns on you, and you sigh, “You don’t need to make me forget, you need to let me…”

“Help me? Spare me the pity, wife.” Ivar bites out, gritting his teeth and breathing sharply at what you assume to be a pang of pain that courses through him when he tries moving.

You grit your own teeth -though for a very different reason- and fail at biting back an annoyed sigh.

“You insist on this being Fate, why is it not Fate that I know how to help? Why is it not work of the Gods that you married a healer?”

The answer leaves his lips with ease, like the answer is obvious and it should be so for you too,

“Because I don’t want you as my healer, I want you as my wife.”

A deep breath, and you find your resolve, your certainty.

“I am your wife,” You remind him, unyielding, “And as the woman you decided to marry, I’m telling you I’m not letting you be in pain if I can do anything to help it. Now, this is a strong extract that helps with pain,” You lift a tisane of willow between you, and offer it, “You will drink this, you will rest until the pain dulls, and you will never again hide something like this from me.”

His eyes remain on yours, defiant and cold and angry and so many more things. You see in his eyes the growing anger at your unwillingness to bend; the desire to hurt back if only because he feels exposed and vulnerable; the relentless searching of any hint of a lie, of pity, of mocking.

You only raise your eyebrows, and move the hand holding the tincture closer.

He grunts out a curse you’ve never heard before and grabs the willow extract, dawning the bitter liquid in a quick gulp. Admiting he trusts you, admiting he believes you, are words that may never leave his lips.

You don’t need them, you realize.

____

Sometime later, you hear Ivar move, and out of the corner of your eye you notice he has sat up on the bed, his back on the bedrest, eyes -much clearer than before- set on you.

“I told you, I don’t want you here.”

“You told me to leave. I left,” You point out, turning around with your head tilted to the side, “You didn’t say anything about coming back.”

Instead of replying, he considers you in silence, before asking,

“Why do you…?”

His words die in a pained grunt, and seeing him in pain when you’ve been taught your whole life how to help people in pain makes your heart hurt deep within your chest.

Your hand reaches out to touch him, to try soothing him, before you realize what you are doing. But you stop yourself, bringing your hands back together in front of you, fingers twisting anxiously.

Taking a breath, you start replying, “What kind of wife w-…”

“The kind of wife that didn’t want to marry me in the first place.” He interrupts.

“Still, I care about you,” You insist, and when his eyes rise to meet yours with a surprise you weren’t expecting, you hurry to continue, “And, with all due respect to your people-…”

“Our people.” He corrects absentmindedly, attention once again focused on moving his legs to a more comfortable position.

“Our people,” You accept, and continue, raising your chin, “I’m the best healer in Kattegat.”

He turns to you with a mocking shine in his eyes, but it is dimmer than usual, “Arrogant.”

“Honest,” You supply instead, grabbing a pitcher of water and settling it to boil over one of the fires. As you wait for the water for the infusion, you turn on your side and eye the box you brought with you. After a moment of consideration, even if you know the answer, you start, “A salve would work best, but I’ll assume you’ll say-…”

“No.”

“Of course,” You nod to yourself. He hasn’t even let you see him without a shirt on, even after being married, so you knew what the answer would be to letting you see -and treat- his legs. “Infusions for the pain it is, then.”

“They won’t work.”

“The willow has worked, hasn’t it?” You point out, turning around. At his silence, you continue, “Then I’ll continue to try. I’m nothing if not stubborn.”

The Viking rolls his eyes, “You don’t have to tell me that.”

You acquiesce with a shrug, “You knew that when you married me.”

“Are you going to use that we’re married against me for much longer?”

“Till death do us part, Viking.” You mock, and that does earn you a chuckle and a wry smile, leaving you lighter and warmer.

____

You manage to convince him to take the hot lavender, primrose, and chickweed infusion. You do not, however, convince him to let you set that knee back into place the correct way, and not the sloppy work a thrall -who was most likely fearing for his life- managed.

“That is not properly set.” You argue through gritted teeth.

“Oh, no,” Ivar deadpans, “How will I ever walk again.”

You roll your eyes, but desist, and just put a hand on his shoulder to push him back to the bed.

Ivar narrows his eyes, “So gentle,” He mocks, “Is this the kind of healer you were in the Mediterranean?”

“No, because my patients were usually much less aggravating,” You point out, not missing a beat. Even if your eyes betray otherwise, you continue, “My gentleness is earned.”

“Oh, I’m sure many men have earned it. What was it in exchange for last, hm? An army?

Your nose curls in anger, and you take a deep breath, trying to mask how much the words hurt.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything, masking his pain in a sigh that trembles past his lips and closing his eyes tightly.

“Probably kept the poor fool happy and blind until you were done with him, huh? You were everything he ever wanted, you promised your love and your trust until he bent over backwards for you; only to stab him in the back in the end.”

“I didn’t betray Narses.” You bite out, but the fight is instinctual, no heat or anger behind your words. All that’s left is hurt and the stinging shame of being reminded of your mistakes.

He doesn’t lose the cruel edge, the sick and punishing tone in his voice that seems to prove he delights himself in hurting you, “You did. You promised to marry him, promised to love him, yet here you are, married to another man. Promised all the same to the next man that vowed to fight the battles you cannot.”

There’s a part of you, a part of you that maybe is too alike him, that wants to fight cruelty with cruelty. Instead, you take a deep breath.

“I didn’t promise you that I would marry you in exchange for Stithulf’s head. I didn’t promise to love you, Ivar.” You remind him lowly, and surprisingly enough it grants you victory in this strange duel he engages you in.

His façade crumbles, his mask slips, and uncertainty and what could be a different kind of pain than the one he has been bearing for half a day now shine in his pale eyes.

“You didn’t have to. I guess I’m more of a fool than that Greek, hm?”

And just like that your fight leaves you as well, and you sigh, before finding a seat in one of the lounges near the bed. You don’t look at him as you speak, instead looking at your hands on your lap.

“I haven’t lied to you. And I won’t.”

“I could give you much more than he ever could.” He reminds you, but you shake your head.

“But I care for you more than I ever could have cared for him.” You reply easily, because the promise of freedom -a promise you know he won’t break, because…what was it? He might break a bone, but he would never break a promise-, of freedom to choose, lying at the end of the tunnel has made you more certain, more calm, it has soothed you, given you the chance to be true and admit things not a hundred years of torture could have made you admit before.

But, you gather, this certainty that once the Christian lies dead and your people are avenged you will be able to make the choice to leave or remain, the choice between hope and nostalgia; what this certainty gives to you -stability, certainty, peace- it has all taken away from Ivar.

So, you show your cards, you offer truths, you answer the questions his pride doesn’t let him ask.

You clean your hands on a nearby cloth and walk calmly to one of the lavender planters you keep in the room, carefully starting to pluck the drying or dying from the rest.

A frustrated sigh coming from the bed stops you, and without turning back but stills topping in your task, you call out,

“I’m not leaving, so don’t even think of ordering me to.”

“I know,” He grunts, irritated, “But I won’t have you making noise all over the room and distracting me. Get over here, and stay still.”

Your foolish lips curve into a flustered smile, because that’s the closest you’ll get, you think, to ever hear him say he wants you with him so he can rest.

You school your features before you turn around though, and even if you’ve already toed off the sandals and are getting on your side of the bed, you still taunt, “You could just ask me to lay with you, you know.”

Instead of replying, he closes his eyes and settles on the pillow. Fully aware he probably feels your eyes on him but frankly not caring, you sit, almost on your side with your legs drawn up close, and study him and the small twitches of pain and tension he still gives away every few seconds.

You dare think the pain has dulled, compared to earlier at least, judging by the sweat that pooled on his brow and the moans and whimpers of pain he couldn’t keep from leaving his lips even through gritted teeth.

“Tell me about your Gods.” He asks suddenly, without opening his eyes. You startle, betraying a small smile.

“They are just tales to you, aren’t they?”

“Mhm, but it is the same to you about my Gods.” He argues, eyes still closed and you find yourself stupidly missing the strange warmth mixed with electricity that runs through you when his eyes meet your own.

“No, I…I believe,” You debate with yourself for a moment about telling him that the same night prayers to Persephone for answers on why Fate had brought you to his side left your lips, so did prayers to Freyja. Instead, you whisper, “Your Seer told Sieghild about me, you know.”

This gets him to open his eyes, and before he can ask the questions you see shining in them, you continue,

“She came to Kattegat before she departed East with Rorik. She was told by the Seer that she was to return here a mother, and so she always held the dream of bringing me to Scandinavia with her. When we came here with the Saxons she …said it was Fate, that it was maybe too late, but Fate regardless,” You smile to yourself, absentmindedly trying to figure out the ins and outs of Ivar’s braids as you recall with a chuckle, “‘When the throne is empty, when the witch reigns, when the temple burns; the Gods will summon her here,’ she used to repeat that a lot.”

“That’s…the years Ragnar was gone. When my mother was ruling over Kattegat.” He states, not even a question.

You nod your head, feeling a strange knot of emotion in your throat that keeps you from speaking for the couple of times you try. After a deep breath, you insist,

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, not talking, by the way.”

“The pain is…duller,” Ivar says, even if he closes his eyes again, “It’s manageable, I can stay awake.”

“What do you want to stay awake for?” You ask around a chuckle, hopeless and so foolish.

He only shrugs, even if the movement is accompanied by a frown and a muted sound of pain that stays locked past tightly-pressed lips.

“Tell me about your Gods.”

You sigh, “One of my own choosing?”

“Yes,” He replies without hesitation, adding a moment later, “Those tell me the most about you, you know.”

Your lips curve into a smile, uneven and scared and truer than any other before, and you feel it is only so because Ivar’s eyes remain closed.

____

For what is left of the day, you remain at Ivar’s side. And thankfully he is able to spend most of that time in manageable pain -though, if you are honest with yourself, you try not to imagine what ‘manageable’ is to him, having lived with this his whole life. What he calls a good day would make any other fall to their knees in agony, most likely-, and some of that, actually resting.

You make yourself useful, in the time you spend at his side. Grinding some herbs you make the plan to keep at hand, reciting to yourself what you remember of useful ingredients for pain and broken bones.

At some point during the afternoon, you stop your counting in Greek of the ingredients you know, trying to make a mental list of those you will be able to acquire, and in the silence you leave behind Ivar hums a complaint.

You roll your eyes, and continue once again listing ingredients and techniques in your own tongue, your voice soft and barely above a murmur.

The next morning, when you pointedly move a platter with elderberries and a sweetened tisane of willow to accompany them to the center of the table, Ivar narrows his eyes.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” He grumbles.

You reply only with a smile as you place some of the berries -what you know he knows to be mild analgesics, especially paired with willow- on your mouth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

____

So, what do you think? Would love to know what you think :)

As to why I deleted this one is mainly a matter of too many words for my word count on each chapter lol. It was supposed to be a short thing for the beginning of 22, but it turned into a 5k beast that I couldn’t include. I didn’t wanna leave it on my scraps document tho, so here ya go.

As before, this doesn’t mess with the schedule for the regular chapters, those will be up on time. Thank you so much for reading, sending you my love! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

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criminalminds4days · 3 years

Text

Family Matters | Chapter 8: First Time

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, violence and murder references, public embarrassment, and very bad jokes!

Word Count: 2.8k

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Tag list: @mcntsee @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @evelyncade @haylaansmi @paulaern @myfandomlife-blog

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(This gif is not mine)

Chapter 8: First Time

It is time to reveal the first meeting between the shy doctor and his new, very clumsy girlfriend.

Why is this the time, you may ask?

Well, because, what better way to intrigue the reader than by leaving the couple in newfound happiness without delivering the details of the said night. As well as provide a title that could reference the event and/or have it mean something completely different.

Not to worry, the awaited next morning shall be given in the next chapter.

Without any more delay, please enjoy the individual perspective of the first time they saw each other.

She took a deep breath as the elevator doors opened for the first time, leading her to what was bound to be her new workplace. She smiled politely at all the people she encountered in her short walk and as soon as she reached the glass doors she froze.

How had she made it this far? What if she wasn't good enough? What if the whole room hated her and she was just a horrible profiler and got fired on day two?

No, she was good enough otherwise she wouldn't be here. That was easier said than believed. She gathered the courage she needed and pushed the door, only to be greeted with it being stuck. She continued putting force, hoping it would decide to open before someone noticed her struggling, but it was too late for that.

"It's a pull, not a push." A deep voice said, behind her. She turned to see a dark-skinned tall man with no hair and very full eyebrows. He was wearing a black T-shirt that made his obvious muscles stand out. He wore black pants and dress shoes and a gun was holstered to his side. He was cute! Not that she had the time for dating, she didn't want a repeat of last year.

Instead of commenting on his appearance or flirting, she decided to pull the door, and would you know? It was suddenly unstuck. "I knew it wasn't stuck, I was just making sure it was strong enough."

The man chuckled, followed by a "sure," that wasn't even trying to sound convincing.

She made her way inside the bullpen, looking for her new boss, Aaron Hotchner's office. As she approached said room, a group of desks with only one person sitting caught her eye. She debated whether to approach but she could feel the man from earlier staring at her and decided not to. As soon as she met with agent Hotch, as he asked her to refer to him as, they were called for a case and she was in the meeting room for the first time, sitting as far away from everyone as possible.

"Everyone, before we start I want to introduce you to our new Agent," Hotch said, as he referred to the woman. She stood and waved. "This is our team, Derek Morgan," he said pointing at the man from earlier, he winked at her knowingly and she simply smiled, already wishing to leave. "This is Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi-"

"DAVID ROSSI?!" Her voice echoed through the room and she instantly felt embarrassment settle in. "I am so sorry, I'm such a fan. You must get that a lot, sorry."

She looked at the members she had been introduced to, Jennifer Jareau was wearing a striped dress shirt and dress pants, her blonde hair was left down and her blue eyes looked amused. Emily Prentiss wore her black hair in a low ponytail, a pink shirt, and black pants, she also seemed to be having a good time at her expense.

The man whose books she had in paperback, hardcover and audible, simply chuckled as if his only feeling was amusement. His hair was short and he had a lock beard look going on, a black suit with a matching red tie a clearly expensive watch on his wrist, he basically smelled like money.

"As I was saying," continued Hotch, adjusting the blue tie of his seemingly very expensive suit, a white dress shirt underneath. "This is Penelope Garcia, our Tech analyst, and Dr. Spencer Reid." She looked at the last two members and for the first time, she saw people like her. Although all the members introduced prior seemed like good people, they also seemed so professional, like they knew what they were doing and when to get their hands dirty. The remaining two, seemed younger, like how they presented themselves to the world was the same whether they were on the job as it was in their spare time.

Penelope had a beautiful rainbow dress, her blonde hair with a lot of volume and pins stuck all over, although she didn't like cats, she adored the woman's cat-themed glasses, and deep down she was a sucker for glitter. Spencer, the other doctor in the room, was wearing a white shirt underneath the comfiest looking red sweater she had ever seen. It was weird seeing someone wearing a sweater in the middle of the summer, but hey, who was she to judge? His hair was lazily pushed back and his curls were so pretty! How do you get curls that pretty?! Not to mention he was good looking, a defined jawline, and those brown eyes could melt her any time he wanted.

There she was, thinking things she shouldn't of yet another coworker. "It is a pleasure to meet you all." She took her seat again and Penelope began presenting the case.

As they were brainstorming, she had finally felt confident enough to suggest something, only to find herself interrupted by Spencer Reid. "Nu-uh bruh, I know you didn't just interrupt me mid-sentence." She spoke, clearly not having it. "I did not work my butt off to make it to the FBI just so that a man who wears sweaters in the middle of July cuts me off on my first day!" All eyes turned to her, perplexed. "I don't know how they do it here in the East Coast but back in the west we let a person finish their sentence." Laughs emerged in the room, and Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, slightly annoyed and very confused.

"I beg your pardon?" The man questioned.

"As you should. My pardon is granted." She turned back and finished her thoughts.

At that moment, unknowingly, she had just put into motion the seed for what would become her and Spencer Reid's relationship. And all the events that followed, her almost-death at the hands of a cult leader, her cool head when proving Morgan's innocence, and the countless times she made sure every single member of her team remained safe while providing them with immense ammunition to laugh when feeling down left an impression. Neither knew it but they were on each other's mind more than they realized. But that's not what you want to hear right now, is it?

After getting on the jet, the seat next to who she believed to be Emily Prentiss was the only one available. She took the seat and the woman gave her a kind smile.

"It wasn't that bad." She assured her.

"I may have just made a really bad first impression."

"You didn't, if anything we like you more than before." She followed this by a wink as the team reviewed the case and they took off.

"So, detective Owen is leading this investigation, you guys remember him, correct?" JJ spoke first.

"From the stalker case," Hotch noted.

"Yes." The blonde agreed, "Spence, you remember that case, right?"

"Yes Jennifer, I do." She took a chance by glancing up to find him very flustered at the mention.

"Do you ever talk to, what's her name again... Lila, right? Do you keep in contact with her?" She questioned, an amused smile forming on her face.

"I honestly think we should focus on this particular case." He answered, avoiding the question.

She turned to Emily who shrugged, just as confused as she was. Rossi seemed as lost as the two women, but Morgan and JJ seemed to be having a good time.

After landing and meeting with the local PD, they had begun their investigation, trying to understand this unsub. It had been about twenty-four hours since she had food and her growling stomach wasn't helping anyone.

"How about we go to get some food newbie?" Emily suggested, "I could use some right now."

"Sure."

As they made their way to the first food cart they saw, Emily cursed under her breath. "Fuck, I forgot my purse."

"It's okay, my treat. After all, thanks to you I'm getting food."

"I will pay you back."

"No need." With this said, the two ordered a hot dog and a soda. She should have known better than to do so, as soon after her first bite, the meal decided to find a second home in her shirt. "Oh, come on!"

"That's not good." Emily agreed, "let me run to the hotel, it's two blocks from here, and I'll get you a new shirt."

"You don't need to do that."

"I will be fast, don't worry."

Too late she realized that Emily's purse, which she assumed had her hotel key, was in the office. Nonetheless, the woman returned with a sweater to help her cover the stain. The irony wasn't lost on her, she judged Spencer's sweater-wearing and now she had to do the same.

This was definitely going to be a great day.

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

Spencer Reid was never one to be noisy, nor the first one to notice people. This often came out as rude and most people believed he thought he was better than them, which was not the case. The truth is that overcoming his addiction had left him drained, the parting of Elle Greenaway, the only woman he could safely admit he loved, and the departure of yet another father figure, Jason Gideon, had made him developed a closed-off personality that prevented him from ever creating attachments to new individuals. Emily Prentiss and David Rossi being the only exceptions.

This is important to know because as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen walked into the bullpen, he tried his hardest to avoid looking up. Granted, it was more for appearance sake than anything, because there was no way he hadn't noticed her. How could he not? She wore a white shirt that was loose enough to give her a sense of floating through the room. He had seen her struggle to open the door, and the interaction she had with Derek Morgan and knew if he made a move the Doctor would have no chance. Not that he wanted one, he didn't even know her name.

He saw her walk towards Aaron Hotchner's office and any possibility that might have crossed his mind had been completely shattered. She would be his teammate, and fraternization was not allowed within the same unit. Again, that was just stating the facts, because he wouldn't even consider entering a romantic relationship. It was true that he had kissed more girls in the last two years than he had done in the last twenty-six years of his life, but that didn't mean he was a player, or that he would try to get in the new agents' pants.

After discussing these same things with himself he was called into the bullpen and knew they would be introduced to the new girl. He fixed his sweater and rubbed his hands clearing the sweat that had accumulated.

"You okay, Spence?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You seem a little nervous."

"I haven't had enough coffee, is all."

"Well, how could you? Your drinks are basically liquid sugar."

"It's not that bad JJ." They both reached the room in which they held their round table and sat next to each other.

Slowly, the room filled with the rest of the team and lastly by their Unit Chief and the new member. She was introduced to all of them and he couldn't help but notice how her hands seemed so shaky and her cheeks were flushed. He took his view from her and attempted to concentrate on the case. When he finally found himself in the zone was when his biggest mistake occurred.

"If you look at the scar marks though it seems-" Before he could continue, the girl he had just interrupted had cut him off.

She made sure to set him straight and he looked up just in time to hear her mention his summer-sweater wearing and feel completely embarrassed.

"I beg your pardon?" He said a little annoyed. Sure, it wasn't correct to interrupt her, but bringing his sweater tendencies was not polite. She took his words as an actual apology whether he intended it that way or not (which he didn't) and continued.

The memory would forever be engraved in his brain, he knew that were the little things that made having an eidetic memory, not such a great perk. So, as they sat in the jet he avoided all eye contact.

How could never look her in the eye without remembering their first real interaction, and he was sure she would not want to actually have a conversation with a guy that had come off as dismissive on her first day.

He would have overthought the whole situation if it hadn't been for JJ reminding him of his first 'fling' as the team often referred to it. Lila had been an actress they had protected from a stalker, and Reid couldn't help but fall for her charms. They hadn't talked in a while, mostly because he knew dating someone you barely knew was hard enough, but doing it when the two of you lived on the other side of the country was even worse.

He made sure to try and forget the mentioned girl and the incident with the new agent as he fixed his bed space. Sleeping in hotel rooms made him very uncomfortable, knowing all the germs that could possibly inhabit every single inch, but he loved his job, so with a few accommodations, he got through it.

"More sweaters pretty boy?" Morgan said, taking one out of his go-bag. "How did it go, ah yes: I did not work my butt off to make it to the FBI just so that a man who wears sweaters in the middle of July cuts me off on my first day!"

"Please stop, it's bad enough I will forever have that memory seared in my brain. She probably thinks I'm a douchebag."

"She probably does." His roommate teased. "But don't worry, she'll come around, now, let's go. We have work to do."

Morgan threw the sweater onto his bed and the two made their way to the local police station. They spent about five hours trying to come up with a preliminary profile, hoping this would give them the insight they needed to determine the importance of victimology, and possible help with a geographical profile by letting them know if there had been missing person's reports or bodies of people that fit that general victimology. After that time Emily and the new girl decided to go get food. He was hungry too but decided against going with them because he didn't think he would be well received.

After about half an hour, the pair returned and the girl was wearing a sweater that very clearly resembled the one Morgan had left on his bed earlier that day. He didn't think much of it until they returned to their hotel room and said clothing item was nowhere to be found.

"How on earth does a sweater just disappear? We had a do not disturb sign up, there is no way housekeeping would come in." Morgan said as they both looked for it.

At this point, Spencer knew why he wouldn't find his sweater, but decided to remain silent. How could he ask her politely to return it? And more importantly, why was she wearing it? How did she get a hold of it?

He never really got an answer to these questions, as they were not really friends, and he didn't feel comfortable asking about it. She had worn it a couple of times, including during their kidnapping, it seemed rather odd to bring it up then. "Hey, I know we might die, but I just have to know: How did you get my sweater?" was probably not going to cut it. So he let her keep it, and eventually, while the memory was still engraved in his brain, it became less relevant. That was, until the next morning of their shared night, when he saw said sweater very visibly hanging on her closet door and decided to try it on and see if it still fit.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x y/n #Criminal Minds #CM #fanfic

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theweasleyslytherin · 4 years

Text

i knew you (ron weasley x reader) part 9

part 1/masterlist

summary: Ron inexplicably broke up with Cassiah Black just days before their final year at Hogwarts, leaving them both with broken hearts and no future plans, but too stubborn and too proud to fix things. The centuries-old rivalry between their Gryffindor and Slytherin houses only make things worse, and friendships are truly put to the test. Will they find their way back together before the year ends, or will the end of their time at Hogwarts be the last time they ever see the each other?

warnings: angst, drug/alcohol use

CHAPTER 9 - sight for sore eyes

We're lying on the moon It's a perfect afternoon Your shadow follows me all day Making sure that I'm okay and we're a million miles away

The Moon Song, beabadoobee ________________________

Ron had actually had a really good time at the party, despite the fact that he remembered only about 30 minutes of it and had spent the entire next morning yacking into a bucket instead of getting breakfast with everyone else in the dining hall. At least Harry had brought him back a croissant as an offering... but he'd thrown that up, too. Bloody firewhiskey.

All of that had been worsened by the fact that all he wished was for Cassie to be there to take care of him, and that she was with someone new and it fucking hurt. After that morning, the nausea faded, but the aching feeling in his chest persisted for the coming weeks.

It only worsened when he was sitting in Potions class a few weeks after his fight with Cassiah and, just before class was dismissed, his graded exam landed on his desk in front of his upside down. He hadn't expected to get an A – the panicky, humiliating feeling he'd had in his chest while taking it had been enough of an indication – but he'd had hope that he'd done alright. Ron had always struggled in school, but this year, he'd made a promise to himself for things to be different. He didn't need to check the grade to know what the result would be – he already knew.

He took a deep breath and flipped the paper over, trying to be subtle about it so that Neville wouldn't look over and see.

An F.

F as in failure. And it was all his own stubborn fault for refusing Cassiah's notes. Sure, they'd just been an empty gesture probably to assuage her guilt over dating Draco, but they would've made all the difference and Ron knew it. He always self-sabotaged like this because he was too damn proud... It must've been the Gryffindor in him.

He felt the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes and he willed them away – not in public, he told himself. He let his eyes flash to Cassiah, who was quietly smiling down at her paper. She never wanted to let on just how easy school was for her – she was always downplaying her talents or successes to make other people feel better, including Ron – but Ron knew. He was reminded of how he'd been able to be vulnerable with his emotions with her. She was so unashamed about expressing everything she was feeling, which could sometimes get to be rather annoying for Ron, but that was one of the many amazing things about her. When Ron was with Cassie, there was nothing embarrassing about feeling all his feelings as they came. Now he didn't have that outlet anymore, and he could feel it taking a toll.

Meanwhile, Draco was sitting with a smug look on his face, showing off his graded test to anyone who would look at it. Stupid bloody prefect, Ron thought, his blood boiling and his freckled ears turning red. Draco had always had everything – wealth, smarts, you name it – except for the most valuable thing: a person like Cassie. And now he had her, too. Ron couldn't help but think that Draco could never fully understand just how lucky he was. He had best treat her like the blessing she was. Merlin knows Ron hadn't, and now he regretted it so deeply.

He thought back to the day he'd let Cassie go. That hadn't been the first time he'd seen her cry because like he said, Cassiah was truly a serial crier, but it had been the first time that he'd been the reason for her tears. However, while it had crushed him to know that he'd made a girl he loved so deeply feel so horrible, he'd been a bit numb to at the time just based off of the fact that there was so much adrenaline pumping through his body and he was trying not to throw up or cry or faint.

Ron had intrusive thoughts about that day ever since, but he'd always pushed them away. It was too difficult to relive it all, and he knew that if he let himself, he'd be crushed with regret. He couldn't do that, because all he would want to do would be to crawl back to her, but that was the one thing he could never do.

But lately, he'd found himself wanting to revisit those feelings... Not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

He'd seen Cassiah cry once since that day, and it had been when he'd discovered her in Draco's room. Had that night, just a week after the breakup, been the beginning of her relationship with Draco? He felt sick at the thought.

Cassiah had told him that night that he'd given up the right to be concerned about her, but even though Ron was as angry with her and he'd ever been, he couldn't stop himself from caring about her, even if he had to do it from a distance for both of their sakes. Seeing Cassiah cry that night had broken his heart because not only had Ron made her cry, but more selfishly, it had implied the possibility that perhaps Cassiah cared enough about another guy to cry over someone else.

For the first time, Ron let himself try to look at that night from a different perspective. Maybe Draco hadn't been forcing himself on Cassiah. Perhaps he had actually been comforting her when she was...

Bloody hell.

The classroom was clearing out Ron could feel himself being overtaken by impulse, which in all honesty was usually the driving factor in most of his actions. He grabbed his failed test in his fist, crumpled it into a ball, and shoved it into his pocket before taking off in pursuit of a certain blonde Slytherin. He was sure that this was the first time he was going to purposefully interact with Malfoy but hey – it was a different world than it had been before.

"Malfoy, wait up!" he called, approaching the blonde boy but not daring to reach out and touch him. That somehow felt like crossing a forbidden line.

Draco slowed to a stop, murmuring something to Crabbe and Blaise before sending his friends on their way and carefully turning around. "Weasley. What gives me the pleasure?" Draco smirked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest, "Oh! Or have you come to accuse me again?" His tone was playful but his words were harsh.

Ron sighed, biting the inside of his cheek awkwardly. "About that. I really hate that I have to say this, but maybe I was... wrong. I don't know what on Earth has possessed Cassie that she would be shagging you, but, nevertheless, I uh–" he shuffled uncomfortably between his two feet, "I kind of wanted to ask you something."

"Well, go ahead and ask then. I haven't got time for your mindless rambling," Draco mocked. Merlin, what did Cassiah see in him?

"Okay. I have to say, I bloody hate that you two are... whatever you two are doing. But, I'll feel a lot better if I get this off my chest–"

"Spit it out, Weasley."

Ron stuttered nervously before continuing, "Do you care about her? You won't hurt her?"

Draco finally uncrossed his arms, suddenly less hostile as his face softened. "Of course. What kind of question is that?" he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and he hadn't spent the last seven years torturing Ron and his friends, "Although I have to add that my relationship with Cassiah is different than you seem to think."

Ron frowned. What was that supposed to mean? He couldn't help but wonder if Draco meant that it was more than a rebound – that there were real feelings involved – but he couldn't let his mind go there at the moment. He composed himself and asked his real question:

"So, considering you care about her, I can guess that you didn't intentionally make Cassiah cry that night." Ron felt a hot shame rising in his chest as he came to the realization that his worst fears were true. But he still had to ask, "You said it was me who made her cry that night. But that doesn't make any sense, because she's moved on with you. Why would she be crying over me if she doesn't even care about me anymore?"

Draco's face shifted into a complex expression that Ron couldn't read. His eyes flicked away for a moment before sighing and looking Ron dead in the eyes and saying, "It really isn't my job to mediate between the two of you, and quite frankly, I'm not overly concerned with helping you." Ron nodded and turned to leave but Draco quickly grabbed him by the sleeve and added, "But you and I both know that people don't stop caring about each other altogether overnight. Sometimes, people never stop caring about each other, in some capacity or another."

Ron stood there staring, flabbergasted. He had not expected Malfoy to be so insightful. This was truly a side of the blonde boy he had never seen before in all their years of hating each other. Ron wasn't sure what to make of any of it, so he just reached out awkwardly and grabbed Draco's hand to shake it and gave a short, "Thanks, Malfoy. Seriously."

As he turned to walk away, his mind began spinning and going through an uncountable amount of emotions.

Cassiah still cared about him. But then why would she do something as cruel as she had on the night of the Quidditch match? Then again, Ron cared about Cassiah as well, but had hurt her pretty badly, too – hurt her enough to make her cry again. How many times had he made her cry without his knowledge? Probably at least as many times as he'd secretly cried over her when he was alone, and he hated himself for that responsibility. He couldn't take any of it back, but he could be better going forward.

If they both cared about each other so much, then why were they putting on an act of disinterest. That would only hurt themselves, and each other.

He had to find Cassiah.

___________

Cassiah was tucked into her favorite, quiet corner of the library, hidden from the rest of the world by an enormous stack of books. The large majority of the books she'd pulled from the shelves were about Divination – which she'd always had a fascination with from the day she met Professor Trelawney. Something about the warm feeling she got in her chest in that classroom stuck with her, along with careful, mindful practices she learned there. Many people were skeptical of the practice of Divination, but Cassiah had always been a stellar, devoted student in the class.

However, she wasn't reading the Divination texts she'd found at the moment. Instead, her nose was buried in a piece of classic fiction she had brought from home. It felt amazing to get lost in another fantastical world for a while. She'd always loved to read as a child, but as she'd grown older, she'd grown out of the habit. After her breakup, though, she'd been devastated and had turned to fiction for comfort for the first time in so long. When she was reading one of her stories, her mind couldn't focus on what Ron might be thinking, or if Hermione and Ginny were hanging out and talking about her.

Truth be told, she thought a lot more about Ron than she did about her friends because he had become her best friend above anyone else.

She was so entranced in her fictional world that she didn't hear anyone coming, and she certainly couldn't see anyone over the tower of textbooks she had around her. That was on purpose. None of the people she actually wanted to see – Draco, Blaise, Pansy, the whole lot – would be in the library and she didn't particularly wish to talk to anybody else.

"Cassiah?"

A gruff voice startled her out of her trance and she gasped, dropping her book and cursing, "Bloody fuck–"

Her words got caught in her throat the second she looked up and saw red.

Red hair, to be exact. Her jaw slacked with realization as she stared up at freckled cheeks and blue-green eyes.

Ron chuckled nervously, looking a little too much like he might throw up for Cassiah's usual liking, and ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Still got that mouth on you, I see," he offered, a sheepish half-smile forcing its way onto his face.

"I–" Cassiah stuttered, completely and utterly shell-shocked. Out of all the students at Hogwarts, Ron was the last one she expected to come find her in the library. She'd completely given up on ever speaking to him again, if she was being honest. She shook her head, "What are you doing here?"

She could practically hear Ron's heart beating out of his chest, but it gave her comfort to know that he was just as terrified as she was. He should be terrified – he'd broken her heart like she never even knew was possible.

Ron was speaking quietly with nerves, the same way he had when he'd first told her he wanted to be with her. "I knew I'd find you here," he said, sounding rather out of breath and now that Cassiah was looking closer, rather red in the face, "Well, I actually ran over practically the entire grounds before realizing that I knew exactly where to find you."

From Ron's breathless tone and rosy complexion, Cassiah was inclined to believe that he quite literally meant the entire grounds.

"Ron," Cassiah said just as quietly, not fully trusting her voice to not show her nerves or emotions, "Why were you looking for me? We haven't really been speaking at all ever since the breakup." Saying the words break up out loud to Ron made Cassiah choke on a lump in her throat she wasn't even aware was forming until that moment. She ducked her head, silently cursing herself for tearing up. He hadn't even said anything bad yet, but just looking at his face in person made her heart hurt. She had once loved this man so much, and now he hated her so terribly.

"Yeah, I- I know," Ron huffed, "Do you mind if I sit?"

His mannerisms were reminding Cassiah of when he had broken up with her. His breathing was ragged with fear and his voice was so low and soft and unsure.

"No, of course," Cassiah replied, stumbling to clumsily push some books aside to make space for him at the table. When Ron took his seat beside her – but not too close, she noted – the tower of books was now concealing both of them from anyone else's view. They had complete privacy. It was like they were alone, for the first time in months.

"I'm sorry that I made you cry," Ron blurted, "The night that I walked in on you and Draco, and any other time really. I'm really sorry."

Now Cassiah was truly shocked. She thought he'd come here bearing bad news. "It's okay, Ron, really."

"No, it's not," Ron said definitively, "I always told you when we were together that it wasn't okay for people to hurt each other, and it's still not okay now. I don't want to hurt you, Cassie."

At that, she let a tear slip out, and she looked over at him through glassy hazel eyes as she desperately tried to keep the waterworks in. "Well then I guess I owe you an apology, too," she said, just barely above a whisper because that was all she could manage at the moment, "For what happened at your Quidditch game. I– I know that was a really, really big day for you and I hadn't considered how much my actions would really hurt you."

Cassiah took a deep, shaky breath, staring directly into his eyes. She felt the prickling sensation in her nose and her eyes, and she decided to let her quiet tears fall. "Even if we're not together, I can never be mad at you. I still care about you so much and I hate that I did something that made you think otherwise."

She could've sworn she saw Ron's eyes shining, but he ducked his head just quickly enough for her to not see. "I care about you too, Cassie," he said, reaching out to grab her hand.

Instinctually, she started to pull her hand back. She hated being touched when she was upset. But she knew that this was his love language, and it would only make things worse if she rejected him, so she forced herself to stay in his grasp. It felt so wrong, after everything that had happened between them.

"So what do we do?" Ron asked. Cassiah felt a glimmer of hope in her chest, but then she remembered something Ron had said to her many moons ago.

"When couples break up, I don't think they should get back together. Unless it's been years and they both have fundamentally changed, they need to remember why they broke up in the first place."

Cassiah had thought it was bullshit at the time but had never thought it was be relevant to her and Ron, because she thought they would be together forever.

She shoved that glimmer of hope down into a dark, faraway place – as faraway as the kingdoms in her stories.

"We were always friends. We... We said we'd always be friends. And I really miss being your friend," she conceded, deciding that settling for friendship was better than not having Ron in her life at all, even if she would always ache for more.

If she hadn't been staring at her won fidgeting hands, she would've seen how Ron's face fell for just a second before he plastered a soft smile back onto his face.

"Then let's be friends," he concluded, smiling at Cassiah wistfully, "How hard can that be?"

Cassiah giggled quietly at that. She finally felt brave enough to look up at him. "Okay. So, when do we start? Being friends, doing friend stuff," she joked, biting her lip playfully.

"I mean, Seamus and I were gonna get high and spy on Neville's date with Luna if you wanna come?" he offered.

Cassiah gasped and punched Ron lightly in the arm, "Merlin, I am so out of the loop. Neville and Luna are finally together?"

"Yup," Ron smiled. He and Cassiah had been shipping Neville and Luna for years. "This is their second date. He's taking her into Hogsmeade for dinner. If we hurry back to my dorm, you can take a few hits before Seamus gets there," he tempted her, "I know you don't like to smoke in front of other people." The wink he sends her is telling of their years of friendship and she can't help but smile brightly back at him.

"Hey! I'm not like that anymore," she defended, crossing her arms across her chest in mock-offense, "But I will take you up on the offer."

"Yes," Ron did a little fist pump, "I really thought you were gonna say no. It's fun when you smoke."

Cassiah smiled shyly, not quite sure what to make of how natural everything felt between them. She knew there was still so much hurt buried on both sides, but she supposed it was easier to pretend that none of it had ever happened. Maybe some things didn't need to be talked about; maybe it was better that way.

They hurried back to Ron's dorm, finding that they had, in fact, beat Seamus there.

Ron made quick work of rooting through the drawers under his bed, poking his head up and holding up a bag of rolling papers and a pipe. "Blunt or bowl? Lady's choice," he questioned, raising his eyebrows at Cassiah with the goofiest look on his face.

Cassiah smiled shyly, biting her lip, before finally answering timidly, "Bowl." She never really smoked blunts. Well, she didn't smoke much at all, actually, but she felt more comfortable this way.

"Alright," Ron replied, pulling out his grinder and setting about his business. Cassiah watched him working with such expertise. As good as it was to be hanging out with Ron, it was nice to not have to talk for a moment and just wrap her mind around what was happening. She sat on the bed next to him, letting her feet dangle just above the floor and kicking them softly back and forth.

"Okay, c'mere," Ron said.

"I can light it myself," Cassiah challenged him, raising an eyebrow. She knew he'd be surprised to hear her say that.

"Ooh, big girl," he joked back. He motioned for her to closer anyways, "For old time's sake."

Cassiah huffed, "Okay, fine," but secretly she was relieved.

Ron held the pipe up to her lips and he smiled down at her. "Ready?" he asked, and she nodded. He used to wand to cast a charm and suddenly there was a flame.

_____

Cassiah was looking up at him through those thick, long eyelashes, and her hair was tucked so cutely behind her ears. She looked so beautiful that Ron could feel his heart melting as he stood there. What a blessing it was to be this close to her again, studying her beauty from just inches away. She was the prettiest creature he'd ever seen, and he'd almost forgotten all of the little details that made her so special. But sitting there, watching her, it was almost like things had never changed between them.

"I'm excited," Ron said with a goofy, toothy grin.

"Merlin, don't make it into a big deal, Ron," Cassiah shot back, blushing madly with embarrassment.

"My little Cassie's first time smoking," he mocked, pinching her cheeks. She swatted him away, but her laugh let him know she wasn't too pissed off.

"I would've done it before, I just," she bit her lip, "I don't know, I want it to be just me and you. It's embarrassing, I don't want Fred and George or the guys here to make fun of me."

Ron knew she hated people seeing her do things she wasn't good at. "I won't make fun of you, " he reassured, and she raised an eyebrow. "Promise," he said, offering her a pinky.

She scooched closer to him and let him light the bowl for her, his wand radiating heat from the flame that made her want to shy away. She breathed in the smoke and then released it in his face.

She paused, and after a few moments declared, "I don't feel anything."

"Baby, you've gotta inhale it."

"That's what I did!" she insisted.

"No, honey," Ron explained, like try to hold it in your lungs for a second, don't just keep it in your mouth." He studied Cassiah carefully, seeing how her ears were pink with embarrassment, "You wanna try again?"

Cassiah nodded wordlessly, so Ron repeated his actions. She inhaled a decent-sized hit, and Ron smiled down at her,

"Atta girl," he said proudly, "Took it like a champ."

Cassiah smiled at him as she exhaled, and coughed loudly.

She'd taken one or two more hits, and then Ron had finished off the bowl himself. Sitting on the bed next to him, Cassiah just looked for beautiful. She always looked so beautiful. He couldn't resist and leaned over to kiss her hungrily, and she giggled as the kiss made her head spin.

"Do you feel good?" he asked after a few minutes of heated kissing.

She nodded shyly and responded a quiet, "Yes. Very good," a continued kissing him. And if that wasn't some of the best sex of Ron's life, he'd be damned.

The sound of Cassiah coughing barely audibly shook Ron out of his stupor. He handed him a glass of water he had sitting by his bed.

His friend, Cassiah.

He never thought he'd be calling her that again. It was a bit of a disappointment. He'd thought for sure for a moment that she was going to ask to start things over, but he loved her so much that he couldn't turn down an offer to have her in his life. At least if they were friends he couldn't keep hurting her.

_____________________

Hey guys! I'm sorry it's been so long but hopefully this 4000 word monster makes up for it a bit. Sometimes this book is hard to write because I'm kind of using it as an outlet for some things that happened in my own previous relationship. yikes!

Finally, a break from the angst and some happiness! :)

I hope there's not too many typos. My mental health said absolutely not to any proofreading tonight. I'm terribly sorry if this is a mess.

i love you all so much. i hope you loved this chapter. i can't wait for you guys to see what comes next <3 <3 xx tag list: @theamazingspideraj @girl22334 @mariellelovescupcakes @lateautumn

Published on my Wattpad (halebscallison) and my Tumblr (theweasleyslytherin).

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Melvin Moody

(Not my gif)(Requested via message)

- You met Moody in your gym class. As a friend of Clifford's, you’d heard a lot of rants about the boy but you’d never actually met him until you walked into class on the first day of school.

- Joining all the other girls on the bleachers, you watched your friend and the rest of the boys in class play a game of basketball. That was when Moody began pushing the smaller boy around.

- Clifford was thrown to the floor and you promptly rushed out onto the court to check if he was okay, feeling your blood boil as Moody and the other kids laughed. Obviously, Moody was shocked to see you at the boys side; he couldn’t understand how a loser like Clifford managed to get a hot chick to be around him, let alone care about his well being.

- For the most part, your first meeting was pretty anticlimatic. You took Clifford to the nurse and that was that. ...Except Moody began to constantly flirt with you, so much so that it was beginning to annoy the hell out of you.

- Overtime, Clifford noticed that Moody was always looking at you whenever the two of you were together. For a while, he thought that he was the reason Moody was looking, after all, the boy would glare at Clifford half of the time he caught him watching.

“He’s staring y/n. He wants to destroy me, I just know it.”

- Then he realizes it wasn’t him Moody was staring at. He asked you to get him a drink, watching the bully who was now focused on your moving form. When you returned, he had this nervous, almost embarrassed look on his face.

“Y/n... I have another favor. Now this one is incredibly important, okay?” He was speaking like he was in pain.

“Geez Clifford, you’re scaring me.” You replied worriedly.

“I need you to date Moody.”

“What the fuck Clifford.”

“No really y/n. He’s constantly staring at you. If you go on a date with him you can convince him to leave me alone.”

- You called him insane, refusing to even entertain the idea as you began to finish your lunch. He told you to look over at the boy who; when you turned, was in fact looking at you. After a significant amount of begging and pleading, you sighed and finally agreed, telling him that he owed you.

- And so, you stood up and made your way over to Moody who instantly locked his eyes on you with a smirk plastered across his face.

“Hey there doll.” You could already tell he was enjoying this. You had to give him credit, he could be pretty smooth when he wanted to be.

“Moody...It’s come to my attention that you find me attractive.”

- Your comment wiped the smirk right off his face. He gulped; hoping that you didn’t notice his nervousness, and tilted his head with a questioning glance.

“Is that so?”

“Sure is. Now Moody, if I agree to a date with you will you leave Clifford alone.”

“Kissing included on this date?” A smug grin made its way onto his face.

“...We’ll see.” You gritted your teeth. For Clifford, this is for Clifford.

“I guess you have yourself a deal then sweetheart.”

- So after school, the two of you walked to the sandwich shop that everyone went to when class ended. At first you just about wanted to kill yourself, doing everything in your power to stick it through. That was until he dropped his cocky exterior; noticing that you really didn’t enjoy it.

- Once he started acting like himself, you actually found him charming and funny. You actually began to like the boy which made you feel evil in a way.

- He walked you home, asking when he could take you out again as you stepped inside your front door. You thought about it for a moment. This was the school bully, your friends bully.

- As much as it made you feel like you were missing out on something and like you were a horrible, fake person; you turned him down, saying goodbye and shutting your door on him. He took it well, if well mean’t storming off and bullying Clifford even worse after that.

- The boy seemed to be perpetually angry, glaring at the people around you and being even more of a menace than he usually was. You still felt horrible weeks after the situation but what could you do?

- Then it happened. After class one day; one you unfortunately had with Moody, another boy came up to you as you were leaving the room, complimenting you and confessing that he liked you as he asked you out on a date. You replied that you would get back to him, quickly excusing yourself and heading to your next class.

- You thought nothing of it until you found Moody tormenting the kid in the hallway later that day. The boy didn’t back down which was the worse thing you could do when Moody picked a fight with you, especially with his goons around.

- You cringed as Moody’s fist connected with his jaw. He would’ve thrown another punch if you hadn’t stepped in and gotten between the two. Moody; already sporting a few bruises and a bloody nose, was panting angrily as you put your hand on his chest to keep him from moving forward.

- Curses and insults were hissed at the boy as he got up behind you. Before you knew it, Moody had seized you by your wrist and wrapped an arm around you, smashing his lips to yours in front of everyone.

- He made a few comments to the boy about how “you were his” as you stood there stunned. He then proceeded to grab your arm, dragging you away from the crowd and outside the school doors. He did ask you out properly after that, and you finally agreed with a promise from him that he wouldn’t beat up anymore people.

- You’re pretty much known as the school’s saving grace. With you around, Moody actual makes an effort to be nice, or at least not bully anyone.

- Constant pda, this boy does not leave you alone at any given time.

- He’s actually a really soft guy, even if it’s just with you. In public he might act like a jerk but you’re his girl and the only one he knows really likes him without having to be threatened so, to him, you’re an angel that should be treated as such.

- He’s definitely pulled a fire alarm to get you out of class so that he could see you or because he knows you don’t want to be there.

- You’re basically his mirror 90% of the time.

“Babe does my hair look fine? What about my jacket?”

- You’re called a lot of pet names; babe, sweetheart and hotstuff are just a few.

- Since he was one of them, he knows how playboys think which usually results in him being jealous of any guy that tries to flirt with or compliment you; or just about anyone who looks at you a little too much for his liking.

- Wearing his jacket.

- His arms draped loosely around you as you sit between his legs.

- Your poor neck is constantly attacked. He’s constantly kissing and teasingly nipping at it. You do the same to him, thinking it’ll get him to knock it off a little but he genuinely enjoys it so you just have to put up with it.

- Getting pushed up against deserted hallways walls.

- Any class you have together, you can rest assured that he’s going to have the seat next to you. He will not allow someone else to have it; he just won’t.

- Teasing poking his chest or dragging a finger along it whenever he wears one of his unbuttoned shirts. It gives him goosebumps every time.

- Cute conversations while cuddling. The two of you cuddle either spooning or in the “honeymoon hug” position.

- You force him to work things out with Clifford. His apology isn’t the least bit sincere but Clifford accepts it since he knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of him.

- He acts all cocksure in public but blushes and stutters if you hold his hand or hug him. He’s a total nerd but only you’re allowed to know that.

- Innocent affection; in general, makes him nervous. He isn’t used to it though he knows he likes it; at least when it’s you.

- Getting surprise gifts; most of them are little and inexpensive but you adore them all the same. Just don’t ask where he got the money.

- Calling him Melvin just to annoy him.

- Getting flexed and winked at during gym class. You bend over in his line of vision in retaliation. You’ve genuinely made him get trampled during basketball because of said retaliation; he stopped and stared as the ball came towards him then BAM.

- Affectionate insulting.

- Jokingly making fun of each other.

- He’s usually gets pretty bored when you’re not around. Before you started dating, he was fine, but then you came along and showed him how much fun he could have, now he knows he could be having a better time and it annoys the hell out of him.

- You can actually tell the moment he sees you because he instantly straightens, his eyes lightening up and a smirk gracing his features.

- He’s pretty protective in general but god forbid you get sick or injured. He’s at your side in an instant, threatening people and making demands as he looks you over.

“Stop breathing, she needs more air.”

- No one dares mess with you so it isn’t very often that you have problems with people. Most of them tend to treat you like you have some kind of disease, keeping their distance as much as possible.

- He’s not a very open person but you can tell that he trusts and loves you, even if he isn’t keen on using his words to express it.

- Small prank wars.

- Occasionally he’s just going to have to act like an asshole; even to you, just to try and keep up his touch guy reputation. You don’t know how many times he apologizes when the two of you are finally alone together.

- Most of the girls in school are envious of you, you think it’s sort of funny since they don’t even know the real him.

- Sexual innuendos.

- Sometimes you’ll just grab his hand and doodle on his arm. He pretends like he hates it but he wears his sleeves up for the rest of the day.

- He’s sort of jealous of Clifford and very jealous of Ricky. He fucks up a lot and figures that one day you’ll just get sick of him and give up, moving on to one of them. He never lets you know this but you can tell from the bitterness in his voice when he asks if you “had fun” while you tell him who you were hanging out with.

- When you’re alone together, he’s really interested in what you have to say and actually likes hearing about your day.

- He kind of hates when you ask him about his because he’s self conscious, thinking he’ll seem boring, dumb or just like an asshole to you. He tends to just brush off the question, hoping you’ll just let it go.

- Teach this boy how to handle his emotions and feelings, just please teach him. He’s so used to being a jerk-off and pretending to be someone he’s not that he doesn’t know how to functionally be himself.

- He doesn’t really like not being in control, it makes him sort of uncomfortable because he’s completely out of his element. Like he’s fine with affection when it’s him doing it to you but how is he supposed to act when you do it back??

- Him jokingly acting all tough with you, especially while doing something particularly affectionate.

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Now listen here you little shit. I love you most, do you understand me?”

- He just tells you when you’re going to go out. No asking what you’re doing, no proposal; no nothing.

“Dinner with me today. Six o’clock.”

“Cafe after school. Meet me in the front.”

- He’s the type of asshat to flirt with and gawk at other girls while he’s with you, then not understand why you’re mad at him. You do the same with different guys just to prove a point and this bitter realization hits him so hard. He doesn’t do it anymore after that.

- Fights are awful arguments that result in the both of you avoiding each other. He purposefully tries to make you jealous by flirting with other girls; hoping it will make you talk to him first, while you don’t really have even try to make him jealous.

- He definitely rants to Clifford while the boy tries not to look entirely dead inside. He literally has his head in his hands the entire time and is sighing every other minute.

- Apologies are made a few days later when he can’t stand not having you constantly at his side. He’s grown accustomed to your company and everything just feels off without you around.

- Is he too much of a dick to be a long term boyfriend? Maybe. You’ll just have to find out won’t you!?

- It’s fun while it lasts, even if it’s only for a year or two though I’ll be the one to tell you that he’s not too keen on letting you go anytime soon.

#melvin moody #melvin moody imagine #melvin moody headcanons #melvin moody headcanon #my bodyguard imagine #my bodyguard #My Bodyguard 1980 #my bodyguard imagines #my bodyguard headcanons #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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star-spangled-eyes · 4 years

Text

Dirty Mind: Part 1: Simple Man

This alternate universe fan fiction uses characters created and owned by Pixelberry Studios. Character names, descriptions and likenesses are owned by Pixelberry Studios. Some dialogue and events in Book 1 of TRR are property of Pixelberry Studios. The MC, Bragnae Bennett, and story is created and owned by this author.

Book: The Royal Romance (Alternate Universe)

Alternate Universe Theme: Drake’s perspective

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Bragnae Bennett – *pronounced Brawn-yah)

Warnings for this miniseries: NSFW, Adult content, suggestive and strong language, angst, sex (including character’s thoughts and innuendos)

Masterlist

A/N: I wrote this miniseries in the first person perspective of Drake Walker. It follows events in Book 1 of TRR, but not everything is as you’d remember it from the story. Some things have been altered to better fit this fanfic.

I really enjoyed getting into the brain of Drake, and I hope you like it too. He’s a stud, and I love his sexual, angsty mind.

There are THREE parts to this miniseries. They will be released tomorrow and the following day. Enjoy!

Word Count for this chapter: 8707

Permatags: @burnsoslow @cora-nova @dcbbw @thorfosterlove @emceesynonymroll @edgiestwinter @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @msjr0119 @notoriouscs @drakewalker04 @pedudley @desiree-0816 @choices-lurker @kingliam2019 @loveellamae @drakexnadira @flutistbyday2020 @indiana-jr @yukinagato2012 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker

My name is Drake Walker and I have a dirty mind. I know what you’re thinking. Of course I have a dirty mind, I’m a guy, right? Well, I have to concede that one for that very fact, but it’s more than that. To me, a mind consists of three major influences that can make it dirty.

First, are the things you wish you could say to people, but it wouldn’t be proper including the wide variety of curse words known to the world. Next, are all the crappy experiences in your life that muddy up your outlook. I can admit, I’m snarky, angry a lot and a real pill sometimes, but it all comes with the territory. And last but certainly not least is sex.

What an incredible experience. So incredible that it’s constantly on my mind. Countless dirty questions fill my brain like when is the next time I’m going to fuck someone, where will it be, what position will she be in? Oh, the thoughts are endless. Throw in a particular woman? You’re fucked — mentally. That’s me right now, in case you were wondering. More on that in a bit.

The female body is the most beautiful work of art that God ever created — of course there are exceptions. Like when a woman has a smoking hot body but her personality is so hideous that her sex appeal is lost. At least to me it is. There’s plenty of those around, but thankfully, there are some that surprise you. The ones that have it all — endless talent, sense of humor, dazzling personality, and such stunning looks that you have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

My brain has been working overtime ever since she walked into my life. Well, butted into my life is more like it. And it’s been hell. Everything was just fine before she came along. Not great, but fine.

I live in the royal palace in a small Mediterranean country called Cordonia. I know what you’re thinking and no, I’m not one of those stuck up noble pricks. My best friend might be the Crown Prince, but he’s not one of those pricks either. If he ever tried to be, I’d damn sure call him out on it. I wasn’t born into this life with a fancy title or hundreds of acres of land in my name.

I was born to wonderful parents, who despite their status as commoners in the kingdom, made me feel like I was the richest kid in the world. Not by money, of course, but with life experiences and lessons only those who work hard for a living can impart to their children.

My dad was a part of the King’s Guard in charge of protecting the two princes before he eventually moved up to Head Guard watching over the King and Queen. He’s Cordonian, born and bred.

My mom stayed at home with me and Savannah, my younger sister. She was born in a small town in Texas in the United States, but stayed in Cordonia after meeting my father during a European college trip she took with her friends.

They fell in love almost immediately and were each other’s best friends. I’ve always looked up to them. Always thought how great it’d be if I could find that too. I often dreamed of meeting a beautiful woman who I not only was in love with, but we were as close as two people could be. Friends, lovers, partners. What a fulfilled life I’d live.

Of course, that meant I’d have to actually find a woman who was willing to put up with my sarcasm, moodiness, and the permanent scowl on my face. And to be honest, it wasn’t looking that great.

Back to the dirty mind thing — don’t worry, I didn’t forget. As I was saying, a dirty mind can develop over time as a result of many things. And I’ve been through a lot in the 27 years I’ve lived on this earth. Okay, fine. It’s not as dramatic and horrible as some people have endured, but I’ve had my fair share of shit thrown at me.

My dirty mind, in particular, consists of many dirty words. You’re listening, so you might as well get used to it now. I cuss... a lot. You would too if you had to hang around the palace every day dealing with snobby, rich assholes who think their shit don’t stink, and that it’s perfectly okay to treat people beneath them like undignified trash. These people have no idea what life truly has to offer. All they care about is their political status in the kingdom, and how they can make more money doing as little for it as they can.

As you can imagine, I have to keep a lot of my thoughts to myself. Unfortunately, you’re going to have hear them all. Consider yourself warned.

My dirty mind also consists of all the shitty things that’s happened in my life that’s left a bad taste in my mouth.

Remember my dad? Head of the King’s Guard? Yeah, well, he was killed while attempting to save the king during an assassination attempt. That sure was nice growing up without a fucking father. I was 13. A brand new teenager with raging hormones and in desperate need of a strong, male role model to keep me on the straight and narrow. It fucking sucked. My dad was everything to me. He was a friend, a teacher, and the best father in the whole world.

When he died, I had to step up to be the man of the house. Sure, my mother was strong — she’d always been strong. But she was having a hard time coping with dad’s death. Savannah was only nine at the time, and was made fragile by the sudden and horrific change in her life.

I didn’t want my mom and sister to worry or feel unsafe with my dad being gone, so I immediately filled that role. And it was fucking hard at first. There was no time for me to cry or grieve because I had to be strong for my family. I had to show them it was all going to be alright even though I had no fucking clue if that was actually true.

My dad’s partner in the guard was Bastien Lykel. He was a great guy. About half my dad’s age, but just as competent. He learned a lot from my dad, but also brought natural talent of his own to the table. Anyway, after we lost dad, Bastien sort of stepped in for us. Not that he ever tried anything with my mom or pretended to be our father — he knew better than that.

On his off duty time, Bastien would spend most of it with my family. He’d tell us stories about working with our dad and help mom with any chores around the house. As time went on, Bastien kept up with what he could, but got increasingly busy with work as he moved up the chain in the King’s Guard.

Mom never really got over dad’s passing. I don’t blame her. I didn’t either. I still miss him every day. But she handled it differently. Money was a real struggle after he passed. It was something she constantly worried about.

Liam, my best friend and prince of Cordonia, talked his father into letting us move into the palace. The king was more than happy to oblige. He was grateful for my dad’s sacrifice so that he may live, and must have noticed how we were struggling. It was kind, and not what I expected as a commoner.

I was 16 by the time we had settled into our new digs at the palace. Savannah was over the moon about it. She always loved hanging around the noble girls her age. She was into all that crap. Fancy dresses, gaudy jewelry, fake smiles. Not that she assimilated to them. Thank God for that. Despite adoring that pretentious life, Savannah remained down-to-earth and never forgot her roots.

It wasn’t long after that when Mom left to move back to the United States. Yeah... wasn’t that swell? Not even a full-fledged adult yet and both parents were absent. Dad died protecting the king, but mom straight up left us. Don’t get me wrong. I love her and will always love her. I know she had to do what she needed in order to deal with losing dad. So did I. But it was hell on Savannah and me.

Mom must have noticed we were strong and independent enough to live on our own. We had stable living quarters at the palace, and were well taken care of in regards to basic needs: food, warmth, shelter. So... she split. Went back to her family ranch in Texas. We talk on occasion, but there’s definitely more than an ocean that comes between us. Hopefully, someday, we can repair that disconnect.

Okay, now that you know a little bit more about me, let me tell you about this girl. Her name is Bragnae Bennett. I first met her in New York when Maxwell, Tariq, and I took Liam to the States for a guy’s only trip — a bachelor party of sorts. Liam would soon have to choose a woman to marry that would eventually rule at his side as Queen of Cordonia. This trip was meant to forget about all of that and have fun – just us guys. At least that was my plan.

On the last night of the trip, we stopped in a crumby bar for a late dinner and drinks. And there she was wearing a white collared shirt, black pants and a maroon apron ready to take our order. Listen, the first time she strolled up to our table, my jaw nearly hit the floor. Luckily, she was looking at the other two as she introduced herself, which gave me a chance to wipe the figurative drool from my mouth.

Long, silky black hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, naturally tanned skin, sparkling amber eyes, and delicious curves that would elicit an arousing response in any man. And it did. Maxwell and Tariq were just as captivated as I was, not to mention Liam, who stepped into the bar a minute later. Now it was her turn to be captivated. Of course she was. They all were.

Liam stood six feet and two inches tall – two inches shorter than me, I might add – and he was nothing short of a blonde Adonis. The ladies already swooned for him because he was the prince, but take that title away, and he’d still have no problem adding notches to his bedpost. With his ocean blue eyes and well-proportioned body, Liam was every woman’s wet dream.

So, you can see why Bragnae would immediately turn her attention to him as he made his way to our table that night. We enjoyed our burgers, drank a ton of whiskey, and all stole glances at the goddess that was our waitress. Then, Liam boldly asked her to join us after her shift was over. A part of me was more than happy to have more time to look at her, but a bigger part was annoyed.

Obviously, she was taken with Liam, so there went my chance with her. I never stood a snowball’s chance in hell with women when Liam was around. Yes, I can admit that the good Lord blessed me with attractive features. Brown hair that looked good at any length with eyes to match, a strong jaw line, and the ability to chisel well-defined muscles on my body certainly helped me get laid. It damn sure wasn’t my personality. But with Liam there? It was no contest.

You’d think it’d be easy for me to hate the guy, but I can’t. He’s my best friend. My brother. We’ve been friends ever since we were kids, and we’ve always had each other’s backs. I’d do anything for him, and I have. Dropped out of college, a life I was keen on living away from Cordonia, and came back to keep Liam company after an attempt on his life. I wouldn’t give up my own happiness for just anyone. There’s few people I care about in this world, and Liam is one of them. The rest can all fuck off.

So, as you can see, I put up with all the bullshit for him. He needs me. He needs someone to give it to him straight, to keep him humble, and to keep him safe from all the selfish vultures that lurk around the palace wanting more for themselves than for their Crown Prince.

So, when Liam showed interest in Bragnae, I had no choice but to back off. It was stupid as hell for him to get her hopes up for the one night. Then again, maybe that’s all she wanted. A hook up. From what I understand, none of that occurred. At least a kiss and maybe some light fondling if I knew my friend. But whatever transpired between them that night after they snuck out of the club together was enough to prompt Bragnae to make a life changing decision to temporarily move to Cordonia for the chance to compete in the Social Season to win Liam’s hand.

Ugh. The Social Season. Don’t even get me started on that. As if Liam didn’t already have a parade of ladies vying for his attention, the kingdom made it a season for the prince to choose his future bride.

And Bragnae accepted Maxwell’s invitation to take part in it. I have to admit. I lost some respect for her when I saw her climb aboard our private jet back to Cordonia. I thought she was just another crown chaser, but believe me, I didn’t think that for long. She proved me wrong almost immediately.

I won’t bore you with everything that’s happened since she arrived in Cordonia, for your sake – unless you want me to tell you how many pathetic times I stroked my dick thinking of Bragnae, wishing I was inside her instead. Don’t worry, I’ll give you the highlights though.

Obviously, I wouldn’t be telling you any of this if the damned woman didn’t mean something to me. With her being a suitor for the prince, I knew she was off limits. Maybe that made me want her more. I don’t know. But she was more than just a pretty face and a sexy body. God, the dresses she wears. I get hard just thinking about it. The way she elegantly walks into a room, swaying her hips in an unknowingly sexy way grabs my attention every time. I’m not the only one.

Being the exotic foreigner, Bragnae had captured the attention of many men and even some women with her alluring ways. She truly was the complete package. She knew how to have a good time, spoke her mind, and was gracious, even to those who didn’t reciprocate. And oh boy, did she give me the business. Still does. It’s like I’m her number one target that she attempts to crack. She always wants me to have a good time. What did I do to invite that kind of attention from her?

I’m quite set in my ways, but damn if she hasn’t already broken down some of my walls. I hate her for it. Okay, more like, I hate that she was able to do it. She makes me smile, damn it, and I’ve worked on this scowl for years. How could she do this in such a short amount of time? I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s some sort of temptress. She has to be. Someone with mystical powers of enchanting men, and bending them to her will.

Yeah, I’ve got it bad, but there were specific occasions that led me to believe she might also be into me as well. I know, I know. As I’ve already established, no woman passes up Liam especially for someone like me. So, I’m sure I’m fantasizing about this.

Aside from a few looks and smiles she had cast in my direction at the Masquerade Ball and derby, there were some instances that felt deeper. Like when we went to Lythikos, and that witch Olivia mocked me and my sister for no reason whatsoever except to be cruel. Bragnae stood up to her for my sake, which I wasn’t expecting. I hauled ass out of there wanting some fresh air and a chance to see a meteor shower. Low and behold, Bragnae followed me out.

We ended up having a heartfelt talk that came out of nowhere. I think this was the first time I really started to like her. I was attracted to her from the beginning, but it was when we were lying in a snowbank looking up at the shooting stars above us when I felt a twinge in my heart. I badly wanted to reach out to her, but knew that wasn’t appropriate. As the snow started the fall and we walked back to Olivia’s estate, Bragnae surprised me by slipping her hand into mine.

I instantly felt electricity from her touch. I was almost too stunned to speak. She told me it was for safety, but I could see the truth in her eyes. We had connected in that moment, and holding her hand felt right. There was no way I was letting go. So, we held hands until we reached the manor. Everything changed for me after that night.

Perhaps it was just me and my wishful thinking, but ever since we left Lythikos, I felt that Bragnae was intentionally getting closer to me – physically. It seemed she would find ways to touch my arm during a conversation or sit by me when the opportunity presented itself.

After the Royal Regatta, we went to the beach for a little fun in the sun. She insisted on rubbing sunscreen over my back. I protested only for appearances. Thank God only the ocean could see my face because I was having a hard time keeping my sanity as she rubbed her soft hands up and down my shoulders and back. It sent a shiver down my spine.

Then, she let me return the favor. God, it was amazing. I had a legitimate excuse to touch her… in public… and she was wearing a swimsuit. Up until that day, I hadn’t see more than flirty cleavage when she wore her dresses. She was so close to being naked that day that my heart nearly stopped. As I worked my hands over her back, my eyes traveled down to her glorious ass. Her cheeks slipped out a bit. As soon as I felt my dick twitch, I knew it was time to bail.

We jumped in the ocean soon after that. Seeing Bragnae dripping wet from head to toe quickly moved to the number one slot in my spank bank. The release I had later that day after remembering our shared touches, and seeing her so deliciously drenched by the ocean was amazing.

And just a few days ago, after we arrived in Applewood, it was my birthday. Liam told Bragnae even though I asked him to not make a big deal about it, damn him. So, Bragnae took it upon herself to organize a night out at a country-western bar in town in honor of my birthday.

If it was anyone else’s suggestion, I would have heartily declined, but I was curious what she had planned, and definitely wanted to see her in a bar setting with a cold drink in her hand. When we arrived, she took me up to the bar and got me a free drink. She chose whiskey – my favorite. She didn’t make me suffer with some embarrassing girly drink. No, she ordered my most favorite libation on the planet.

I let it slip that I thought she was hot, and of course she called me out on it. There was nothing this woman missed. Later on, we found ourselves on the dance floor, and of all people, she shimmied over to me. Even though I told her I was a rotten dancer, she delicately placed her hands on my hips and told me it was as easy as swaying to the beat. She smiled up at me with a glimmer in her eye.

I could chalk it up to it being my birthday, and that’s why I received so much of her attention that night, but the vibes I was receiving from her was more than a friendly gesture. And as if that night wasn’t already better than I anticipated, I willingly shared a sappy story about my childhood birthdays with her, which prompted an unexpected embrace from Bragnae. She pulled me in tightly, her breasts smashed against my chest and her arms clutching my back as she stood on her toes to hug me.

I was stunned for a split second before my brain told me to wrap my arms around her soft, warm body too. She smelled like a fucking angel – citrusy and sweet. It’s my new favorite scent.

You’re all caught up now. Maybe you see what I do, and maybe you don’t. Either way, I’ve got Bragnae on my mind constantly, and it’s becoming a problem. I even began calling her by her last name in an attempt to seem nonchalant and casual on the outside, when I’m really about to hulk out of my own skin because I want her so badly. Hopefully, she couldn’t tell.

I’ve been trying to hide it for the past month now, and it’s becoming more difficult by the day. I don’t want to tell her how I feel, even though I really do want her to know, it’s not right. She’s here for Liam, and that’s that.

It was the morning after the Apple Blossom Festival. Thank Christ that bullshit is over. Bragnae looked cute in her authentic peasant costume, but that was the extent of the excitement for that day. Now, it was time to blow off a little steam.

Liam was actually available this morning for a little work out before he had to attend a few meetings later on in the afternoon. It was nice to have this time with him. Liam had been my work out buddy since we were old enough to start using the gym equipment, which is why both of us are exceptionally toned and buff. I spend a little more of my time in the gym than he does – sometimes three times a day when I’m really bored.

“So, is your dad putting pressure on you to pick a particular suitor?” I couldn’t help but wish they were pushing him away from Bragnae.

“Yes, of course, he is. He and Regina both keep talking up Madeleine.” Liam continued his set of bicep curls.

“And what do you think about her?” I knew what he thought because I thought it too. Again, just hoping for his attention to be swayed to anyone but Bragnae. I focused on pumping up my own biceps as I waited for his response.

Liam gave me a knowing look through the mirror. “She wasn’t good enough for my brother, and she’s definitely not good enough for me. I hate that they’re pushing her onto me like this. I feel bad for her in a way,” he said as he returned the weights to the rack. “She was so close to becoming queen before Leo abdicated the thrown, and now she’s back to try again. It’s pathetic.”

I loved when he was candid with me. He knew he can trust that I wouldn’t repeat his words. That’s what best friends are for. Support and total discretion. “She’s passionate at least,” I laughed thinking about her desperate need for the political spotlight.

Liam wiped his face with a towel. “Passionate for the crown, maybe. But me? It’s all a fucking show. If she’s chosen, I doubt we’ll even fuck. She hasn’t once tried to kiss me when we’ve had moments alone. All the others have. I don’t even think she likes men.”

All the others have. I shuddered at the thought of him being with Bragnae. I hoped to God they hadn’t had sex yet. I haven’t quite figured out what type of woman she was in that regard. What I do know is that she’s smart and adventurous. She dresses provocatively, but with a certain elegance. Who knows if she’s promiscuous or not?

I’m torn on the topic. I love a bold woman who knows what she wants and takes it. It’s nice when a girl comes with experience, but she’s also not just giving it away to anyone who asks for it. If that’s how Bragnae was, I would be happy to know that. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to ask Liam if they’ve gone that far. We’ve talked about sex plenty of times, but this was different. It might be too hard to listen to Liam tell me about how she was in bed. It’s something I’d rather find out for myself.

“Yeah, Madeleine stands out to the masses, but definitely not your style.”

Liam took a swig of water. “I’ll tell you, though, I really like Bragnae.”

Fuck. “Oh, yeah?”

“Drake, she’s amazing. She’s not only beautiful, but she’s insightful too. I feel like I can tell her anything. The people seem to like her, the press too. I’m really hoping my father and Regina give her a chance.”

Damn it. He really likes her. Am I fucking surprised? No. She is amazing. No doubt about that.

“What do you think of her?” Liam asked.

How do I answer this without making it sound like I really like her too? “I think she’s great. She doesn’t seem to have her head in the clouds like most of these women, and she’s genuine. You know that’s always something I can appreciate.” Okay, that was good. Very Drake of me to say. I think that was good enough and wouldn’t blow my cover.

“I’m glad you agree.” He said, taking a seat on one of the benches. He looked down at the floor with a smile on his face. “That body. She’s so fucking hot. I wish I could spend more time alone with her. I hate the fucking tight schedule they keep me on.”

I blew out a slow breath of relief. Sounded like he hasn’t gone all the way with her. Normally, at this point, he’d be boasting about his opportunity to be with her, but instead he was pining over it. But how long would it last?

“Yeah, I can imagine how rough it is.” They pull him in every direction they can. I wish he’d just tell them to shove it up their ass once in a while. “You’re the prince, man. Do what you want.” Why the fuck am I encouraging this? I hate myself.

Loud music was suddenly audible through the walls alerting us both. As we left the gym, Liam and I walked down the hall to a room where the door was cracked open a bit. Liam pulled it open the rest of the way, and halted in his tracks.

I noticed a stunned look on his face before I saw what was happening inside the room. I stepped up to the doorway, next to Liam, and saw Maxwell leading a choreographed dance flanked by Hana and Bragnae. My mouth fell open in shock as my eyes poured over Bragnae’s body.

She wore a hot pink sports bra top and black spandex leggings that were glued to her skin. Kevin Rudolf’s Let it Rock blared over the speakers as they danced in sync with each other. The beat was fast paced and lively. I actually liked the song – even more so now that I watched Bragnae dance to it.

She moved with ease, spinning, dipping, twirling in rhythm with the song, and it was mesmerizing. The way her hands explored her own body so seductively made my dick jump. Oh, fuck. She just bent over. Now, she and Hana were slowing it down, mirroring each other as they slowly dropped to their knees on the floor. Pumping their bodies on the ground and thrashing their long hair from side to side. Within seconds, the ladies slowly rose again.

I glanced at Liam briefly to see his reaction. He was enthralled, just like me. I was rarely jealous of Liam, but this was definitely one of those times. Not because he was the prince, and not because Bragnae was one of his suitors, but because he could watch her now – unguarded. He could look at her without suspicion as to why he’s fucking her with his eyes.

If anyone saw the way I was watching her with insane hunger and need, they’d think I was a creep or an asshole for gawking at one of the prince’s suitors. How I wished I could look at her openly the way I wanted to. So much of my life nowadays was kept in secret because so much of my life was consumed by Bragnae.

I had no idea she could dance like this. It was like watching a strip tease, without the stripping of course. God, I wish she was taking off her clothes, too. Damn it. She was confident in her body as she thrusted her pelvis to the beat three times. And there went my dick again. I had to readjust because the pesky thing wouldn’t stay down. I was wearing athletic shorts. Thank God they’re black. My hard-on won’t be as prominent.

The song came to a close as the girls ended in a pose with their backs arched and an arm stretched above their heads. Maxwell did his own pose, not that I gave a shit about how he looked. My eyes were trained on Bragnae. My heart raced and I was breathing quickly all of a sudden. I hadn’t realized it until now. I wanted an encore… bad.

Liam started clapping, which got their attention. Fuck. I wasn’t ready to be exposed as an onlooker yet. My dick was still hard.

“That was phenomenal,” Liam said as he made his way over to them. The room they were dancing in was quite large. It was a multipurpose room used for collective work out routines such as their dance and whatever else the royal family wanted to use it for.

I watched Bragnae as she spun around to face Liam with a surprised expression. Apparently, despite the few times she turned around in our direction, she hadn’t noticed she had an audience. Then, her eyes focused on me. A brief smile crossed over her lips before she looked away. She was embarrassed? Why? That was unbelievably hot. If I could hit replay somewhere, I would.

My dick finally gave me a break, so I walked into the room to where they were standing.

“Are you three practicing for a show that I’m unaware of?” Liam asked with a sparkling smile.

Maxwell laughed. “Nah. The girls just wanted to work out in a fun way, so we put together a flirty routine. You know me. I’m always up for dancing.”

“Yes, and it was incredibly exhilarating!” Hana said with enthusiasm, albeit a bit breathless. “I’ve never danced like that in my life. My mother would have a heart attack if she saw that.”

Yeah, I bet she would. That dance was pure sex.

“And you, Lady Bragnae? Do you dance like that often?” Liam asked politely, but I knew he wanted to see if there’d be a repeat performance in the future.

We were both thinking with our dicks in that moment. And I couldn’t blame him. I was still in awe of what I just witnessed, so I was perfectly fine letting Liam speak to satisfy both of our curiosities. I did my best reconnaissance when I observed with my eyes rather than inquired with my mouth anyway – usually because my words would get me into trouble.

Bragnae nodded as she finished taking a long drink from a water bottle. Her chest glistened from the work out, and her quick and heavy breaths pushed her breasts out every time she inhaled. Goddamn. I raised my gaze to her eyes again in an effort to keep my dick out of the matter. No need to awaken him again. Not until I could at least be alone.

“I dance recreationally like this from time to time, but I’m not a part of a crew or anything. Just for fun.” Bragnae offered up a dazzling smile as she regained control of her breath again.

“I asked the other ladies if they wanted in on this, but Kiara declined saying she was too good for it. Penelope always mimics Kiara’s responses, so she was out. Madeleine acted like she didn’t even hear me when I asked, and Olivia said, and I quote ‘dream on, home boy’.” Maxwell shook his head and chuckled.

Liam extended his arm to the three of them. “Well, why don’t we all walk next door and grab a protein shake. Drake and I just finished working out as well.”

Hana’s face lit up with excitement at the suggestion, and Maxwell put some equipment away before he started for the door. I waited until Bragnae agreed before I turned to leave the room. I was sure Liam was waiting to walk next to Bragnae as they left the makeshift dance studio, so I wasn’t even going to try.

It was convenient for me that Liam also enjoyed working out, and considered it as much of a hobby as I did. That meant that as we got older, the gym equipment got better and there was a small protein stand built into the estate. Here at Applewood and back at the palace.

I made it to the counter first. With chocolate and vanilla protein powders as options, they also offered a few other flavors as add-ins. I would shake it up from time to time, but my favorite was chocolate-cherry. I placed my order with Jean, the middle-aged woman that worked the counter, and stepped back for the others.

Maxwell ordered a chocolate-banana, Hana got chocolate-strawberry. Like I guessed, Liam and Bragnae strolled up a minute later in a slow paced walk. He offered for her to order ahead of him, but she declined so she could look at the options. Liam asked for vanilla-strawberry, his favorite.

Bragnae stepped up to the counter. “May I have a chocolate-cherry, please?” Jean nodded, and turned away to fix the drinks.

I looked down to conceal my smile. She ordered the same thing as me. I knew she had good taste.

“Drake? Here you go, honey.” Jean placed my shake on the counter.

I walked up to retrieve it. Bragnae was still standing there when she looked over at my drink. I removed the wrapper to the straw Jean had set next to the cup, and pierced the plastic lid.

Bragnae’s eyes met mine as I smirked. “You ordered the same thing as me, by the way.”

She beamed. “I did? Well, we have good taste.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Before I could think of what to say next, Jean had placed the other orders on the counter. I got out of their way and walked to a nearby table. The others joined me along with their shakes.

“You know, ladies, you’re welcome to work out in the gym, too, if you want. Here and back at the palace. I’d be happy to show you a thing or two if you need assistance.” Liam, the ever-willing prince. I chuckled at his invitation. This was guy code for, I’d love to see more of you in your tight clothes while working up a sweat. And then maybe we could take a shower together afterwards.

I knew my best friend, and I knew myself. We were both thinking the same thing. However, I doubt that comment was intended for Hana even though she was also beautiful and beyond talented in almost every capacity.

“That’s nice of you to offer, Your Highness,” Hana said before taking a drink.

“We got quite the work out in today. Full-body. Do you guys do that every time you’re in the gym?” Bragnae asked. She looked to Liam and then to me.

Liam had just taken a swig of his shake, so I answered. “Nah. We break it up. Today was just arms and abs.”

I kept my gaze on Bragnae as her eyes shifted down the length of my arm. She had her elbows on the table holding her shake up just below her chin. Her fingers absentmindedly moved the straw in and out of the lid as her eyes locked on my bicep.

I know I shouldn’t have, but I knew she was impressed, so I clenched my fist and flexed my bicep for a split second to gauge her reaction. I smiled inside as I saw her lightly gasp before taking a drink and looking away.

“Ooh, Bragnae, we better get going if we want to shower before the next event,” Hana said looking at her watch.

Oh, nice. A shower. Are they going to shower together? That’s what Hana made it sound like, or maybe that’s what my dirty mind wanted me to hear. Either way, picturing Bragnae naked in a hot and steamy shower was definitely an image I wanted to fill my mind with. If Hana happened to be showering near her, that’d be okay too. But I’d prefer to be in there with Bragnae instead.

“And what is the next event for you ladies?” Liam asked.

Bragnae and Hana stood from the table, prompting the rest of us gentlemen to do the same. “We are having tea with the queen. All the ladies are expected to be there and on time.” Bragnae emphasized the last part with a different inflection in her voice and widened eyes.

Liam laughed. “Yes. It’s best not to keep her waiting.”

“Oh, I know. If I’m late for another event, Bertrand will give me a very stern talking to for ‘besmirching House Beaumont’.” Bragnae spoke emphatically, and teased Maxwell by pinching his cheek.

“You and me both,” Maxwell told her. “Now, get going, so Bertrand stays off both of our asses.”

Bragnae laughed and waved before turning to walk away. My eyes traveled down to her magnificently presented ass. There should be a standing rule that Bragnae always be in tight, spandex leggings when she wasn’t wearing a dress. Jesus Christ, she could stop traffic. And I’m getting hard again. Time to go.

“Alright, I’m going to get cleaned up as well. I’ll see you fellas later.”

The next day was the traditional fox hunt for the royal party. Our ancestors used to hunt fox for sport, but today, the event only retains its name. Good thing too because I bet over half of these so-called nobles had never even held a gun, let alone knew how to use it.

This was actually an event I was happy to be a part of. We had to ride horses across a three mile trail through the woods and a bit of the mountains. This was my forte. Growing up with a mother who lived on a ranch in her youth, I was practically raised on a horse. I got up early and headed to the stables to pick out my horse for the day before the fussing nobles ruined the experience.

Since Lonestar, my mother’s horse, was at the stables near the palace, I had to find a different steed. Natalia was always my choice when we came to Applewood. We got along well, and she was better for more experienced riders anyway. She liked to run, so I thought I’d take her out to the field before the fox hunt to stretch her legs a bit.

After she was saddled up, I hopped on, and led her out to the field to trot, being sure not to tire her out too much before the trail ride.

Before long, the nobles had assembled and the fox hunt had begun. I was at the end of the procession, but I led Natalia to the sidelines, so we could pass a few people. There was no way I was going to be stuck behind Penelope while she was telling her hundredth story about her poodles that morning. Plus, I wanted to find Bragnae.

After seeing how she ogled the muscles in my arm, and not Liam’s, I figured it was time to stop playing this game. I needed to start being nicer to her, and explain myself. She deserved that. And out of all the people I wanted to be a prick to, she wasn’t even on the list. So, it would end today.

As I made my way through the trail, the crisp air was refreshing. The woods surrounded the manmade path. It was beautiful, save for the bickering nobles. I shook my head in disgust at them. It was a shame they couldn’t appreciate what was around them. Just shut the fuck up, and enjoy the ride.

I finally saw Bragnae up ahead. She was on a black horse – oh, wait, that was the horse who won the derby. Huh. I wondered how she happened to possess her. Bragnae was riding alongside Hana who was showing her some sort of dressage move. I smirked thinking about Hana’s plethora of talent.

I wasn’t going to intrude on their moment, so I kept my pace and position in hopes that Hana would ride off eventually. My patience had paid off as Hana rode ahead a minute later. Now was my chance.

I squeezed my legs around Natalia and gave her a slight kick with my heels to give her the sign to trot ahead. When she approached Bragnae and her horse, I pulled back on Natalia’s reins to keep up with Bragnae’s horse.

“Hey, Bennett. You look nice.” She did, too. She managed to find a rider’s outfit. A maroon jacket and tight, brown pants with knee-high boots.

Bragnae pulled back in surprise. “Wow. Opening with a compliment, huh? You feeling okay?”

I chuckled. “Yep. Just fine.”

“I’m surprised to see you out here today. I would have figured all the nobles would have repelled your desire to join us.”

“This is actually something I love doing. Riding horses, I mean. And it’s entertaining to watch the stuffy nobles fuss over their blazers. It amazes me how much they’re missing what’s around them, though.”

“Is that why you’re smiling more today?”

I couldn’t help but smile again as I looked at her. “It has more to do with who I’m riding next to.”

She feigned a surprised gasp, complete with a hand over her heart. “A second compliment!”

“If you’re lucky, you might get a third.” I loved bantering with her. It was always fun.

“Oh, then let me find a four-leaf clover really quick.” She winked at me with that dazzling smile I liked so much.

I sighed giving Natalia a couple pats on her neck. It was time to be honest with her. I needed to explain why I’d been such an ass to her. “You know, when we first met, I wanted to dislike you so badly.”

Genuine surprise highlighted her face. “Why?”

“Well, you were crashing Liam’s bachelor party. That was supposed to be our last night out together before all this nonsense. I don’t get to spend much time with him, and now, I’m lucky if I get to spend five minutes with him before a noble girl throws herself in front of him.” I also didn’t want to like you because I knew I couldn’t have you. Wish I could tell her that.

I looked over at her to see a somewhat pained expression. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I knew what you meant.” There was compassion in her eyes. Thank God. The last thing I wanted was her thinking I was insulting her in any way.

“Anyway, I know we got off to a bad start, but somewhere along the way,” I paused to gather my courage, “…things changed.” I hope she could read between the lines.

“I wanted to dislike you too,” she replied.

Now it was my turn to be surprised. “You did?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, you were a total dick to me.” She turned toward her horse, stroking its mane. I was a complete dick to her, and I hated that I did that. “But now…”

“Now?” My nerves were making my hands shake. I gripped the reins tighter as I waited for her response.

“It took time, but I figured out that you’re actually human under all those scowls.”

I shook my head as a smile crept over my lips. She wove a joke into her reply, and it was the cutest damn thing. Now the air was cleared, and it felt good. “Well, this has all been touching, but I need to rescue Liam from his family for a couple minutes. I’ll see you later.”

“I hope so,” she grinned.

Damn, that went well. I heeled Natalia again to get her to trot towards the front of the procession.

Soon, the trail led everyone to an old village where we would all have dinner. I was starving and very much looking forward to eating the giant feast. As everyone got in line to be served, I saw Tariq and Bragnae talking just ahead of me. His body language suggested that he was into her. I knew from the bachelor party in New York that Tariq was attracted to her, but he hadn’t done much more than mention it at the time. Not that I saw anyway.

As I moved forward in the line, I watched Liam trade places with Tariq. His body language was even more obvious. Liam had it bad. I could easily recognize when he was really into a woman, and there was no mistaking it here. But the stakes were even higher this time around. Liam was looking to pick a bride, a future queen. I didn’t know if he was in love with her, but he’d been much more preoccupied with her than any other girl I’d seen him with.

Later that evening after we got back from the ride, I helped the stable hands corral the horses and take their saddles off before I headed to my room. It had been a long day, but despite the length of the ride and being outdoors all day, I wasn’t ready to call it a night.

I needed to see Bragnae again. For some reason, I felt that I didn’t get my fill of her today. Then again, I felt like that every day even when I was with her. Maybe she’d like to go to the gym with me for a late night work out. Would that be too obvious that I wanted to spend time with her?

I decided I didn’t give a shit about that. Some of her signals made it seem like she was into me, so maybe she’d be happy to come along. I changed into a razorback tank top and athletic shorts and made my way to her room. I hoped she wasn’t asleep yet or otherwise busy. Her room wasn’t too far from mine. Liam made sure of that. At the beginning of the Social Season he had asked me to keep an eye on her. At first, I was unsure about it, but that quickly changed. If anything, I was grateful that I had an excuse to be hanging around her.

I came up to her room, and the door was wide open. Does the woman not enjoy privacy? I peeked my head in the door frame searching the room with my eyes before spotting Bragnae straddling the floor, resting on her knees. Her hands pressed against the floor in front of her as she slowly moved up and down.

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. What the hell was she doing? She was still wearing her riding pants, but had removed her blazer and took her hair out of the bun it was in, and cascaded it over one shoulder. I was frozen. Only my eyes could move.

Bragnae’s eyes were closed, and I watched as her full lips transformed in what looked like agony to relief. It was incredibly erotic to watch her in this way. My dirty mind pictured myself underneath her. I wouldn’t mind at all if she wanted to ride me like that. Seeing her now made it easy to imagine her legs squeezing my hips as she felt every inch of my dick inside her.

My hardened and impatient cock brought me out of my trance. I needed to make my presence known before someone noticed I was just standing in her doorway watching her like some fucking pervert.

“Need a hand there?” Fuck. That was my dick talking. Why did I say that? Fuck.

Bragnae’s eyes snapped open, and an embarrassed smile crossed over her lips. “Hey, Drake.”

“Whatcha doin’?” I was genuinely curious.

Bragnae slowly stood up. “I was just stretching. It’s been a while since I last rode a horse.”

Hmmm. Could that also mean it’s been a while since she’s ridden a man that way? I know if she rode a stallion like me, she’d be sore. No getting around that. Her inner thighs would strain to hold onto me as I would thrust into her over and over again making her come so hard she’d struggle to breathe after her screams of pleasure finally subsided.

I cleared my throat to push the thought out of my mind. “I ride pretty regularly, so I’m used to it by now.”

“What are you doing for the rest of the night?”

I’d love for the answer to be you. “I was actually going to head down to the gym, and I was going to ask you if you’d like to join me, but I guess you probably don’t feel up to it being sore from the ride.”

“No, I can still go,” she said immediately with a smile. “Just give me a minute to change.”

Wow. Cool. So, she doesn’t mind working out even as sore as she is. I didn’t want to get too excited, but I was pretty sure it was because of me. At least I hoped so.

I nodded after processing her response. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just be outside.” I closed her door behind me, and leaned against the wall.

My heart was starting to race again, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I took a couple deep breaths to calm my nerves. After another minute, her door opened and Bragnae emerged wearing an electric blue sports bra top, similar to the one she danced in, and black spandex leggings to match. Her stomach and lower back were completely bare.

My dick took over again. It was making my eyes get lost in her body that was standing so close to me that I could feel the heat between us. I had a sudden urge to tuck the tip of my finger just beneath her waistband, and roll it across her pelvis, undoubtedly making her tremble. My gaze traveled up to her top where the most spectacular cleavage I’d ever seen peeked out.

The tightness of her outfit pushed her breasts up and together. If I wasn’t mistaken, I was pretty sure she had pulled that zipper in the front of her top down even more than it had been the other day. She was flirting with her clothes, and I was completely onboard with that. If she only knew what her outfit was doing to me.

Thank Christ my brain woke up in time to save me from myself as my eyes returned to hers. “Shall we?”

#TRR Dirty Mind Fanfic #drake walker #drake x bragnae #trr drake #trr fanfic

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inawickedlittletown · 4 years

Text

I’m With You (12/?)

Summary:

Having a crush was nothing to be ashamed of…lying to the family and friends of said crush about being the guy’s boyfriend, that was a whole other problem. When Buck saves the life of Andrew Diaz and accidentally makes a nurse think that he’s Andrew’s boyfriend, Buck soon finds himself lying to Andrew’s firefighter friends/coworkers as well as Andrew’s family including Andrew’s very suspicious and attractive brother, Eddie.

Based on the 1995 movie While You Were Sleeping.

Words: 5,385

Read on Ao3

Masterpost

Previous Chapter

–

Instead of heading home when they were done with their shift, Chimney went to the hospital. He was tired which was the usual after a long shift, but he also knew that with Helena and Ramon heading back to Texas, that it would likely be the best time for him to get Andrew alone before anyone from the 118, Buck, or even Josh showed up.

Andrew was still sleeping when Chimney entered his room, holding a cup from Coffee Time because they really did have the best coffee and Chimney had needed it if he was going to do this. He sat down by Andrew’s side and browsed through his phone. He played Candy Crush for a while and when that got boring he started looking through the news which was always a bit depressing.

A nurse came by to check on Andrew.

“Hi,” Chimney said. “No changes, right?”

“No, nothing at all,” she said.

Chimney nodded. It was another twenty minutes before Andrew woke up. He looked groggy and a bit confused, but then that seemed to be the state of him all the time these days.

“Hey,” Chimney said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I haven’t left this bed in days,” Andrew said.

Chimney chuckled. “And I’m sure the hospital food isn’t helping any.”

“Chimney, right?” Andrew asked as he sat up and moved his pillows to support his back a bit better.

“Got it in one,” Chimney said.

“Do I get to know why they call you that?”

Chimney shook his head with a chuckle. “That will remain a mystery to you and your brother for just a while longer. Or maybe forever.”

“Fine,” Andrew said. “So, we’re close, then? Everyone I work with?”

Chimney nodded. “We’re family, kid. We’ve all been pretty worried about you but it seems you’re getting better. Are you remembering anything? Or is it still all a blank?”

“I think I remember some things. It’s weird...I guess deja vu or something. Things and people are familiar to me. I remember things about myself, a little. After Eddie brought over my favorite book, I pretty much remembered the whole thing.”

“Right,” Chimney said. He didn’t know if this was the right thing or if it was even his place to bring it up, but Chimney wanted to help both Andrew and Buck. “So you know you’re straight, then?”

Andrew frowned at him. “I’m — what about Buck?”

“There was a misunderstanding,” Chimney said, watching Andrew closely.

“How...what—”

Chimney took a breath. “A nurse got things mixed up and Buck did save you and he was worried you weren’t going to be okay and she got him in here because she thought he was your boyfriend.”

“Holy shit,” Andrew said. “That’s insane and no one...no one thought to say anything about not knowing this guy? What the hell?”

Chimney nodded quickly. “I know, I know,” he said.

“No. How does this happen? I mean...I don’t remember anything but you guys do. My family does. What happened exactly?”

“Okay, so what happened is that before Buck could clear anything up the same nurse told everyone he was your boyfriend. She told Isabel and everyone just assumed you just hadn’t told anyone yet and I think it was because of your abuela that Buck didn’t feel he could say anything.”

Chimney waited him out. He didn’t know what to expect and Andrew seemed to be processing everything he’d heard.

“That’s insane,” Andrew said eventually.

“I know,” Chimney said. “I know it is, and he feels horrible about it. I’m the only one that knows. Well, Josh too.”

“So he’s just kept this going? And you let him?” Andrew asked. “I can’t — this is insane. Who does something like this?”

Chimney was maybe reconsidering what he’d just done. Then again, the possibility that Andrew would react badly had always been there and maybe it was better that Chimney was getting the reaction instead of Buck.

“Look,” Chim said, “I only found out because I overheard him talking to you while you were in the coma and the thing is that Buck didn’t intend to end up in this situation and that everyone’s made it hard for him in one way or another. He has no one and then there we were welcoming him in without even knowing him just on the basis that he was your boyfriend. Your aunt and grandmother have been doting on him from day one. Athena and Bobby like him. Hen is always worrying about him. And he’s not someone that’s had people for a while. But Buck has always known it would end once you woke up. Once everyone knows—”

“They’ll be angry,” Andrew finished for him. “And rightly so. I don’t...I don’t really remember everyone but they’ve been lied to.”

“By someone sweet and nice that didn’t mean any harm. Someone that saved your life, Andrew. And maybe...maybe you can find a way to repay at least that. Or just...give him a chance. Please.”

Andrew was silent for a long moment again and Chimney used the time to finish off the last of his coffee. He saw the way that Andrew’s eyes followed the cup with some familiarity.

“What, pretend to be his boyfriend? When I’m not into men at all? Chimney this just...it isn’t going to work...I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Chimney really hadn’t thought the whole thing through. He just had known that he had to do something to make it easier on Buck somehow.

“I guess I’m hoping you’ll make it easier on Buck somehow because he’s already going to be dealing with the wrath of your brother if this all comes out. He’s been questioning this whole thing from the start and I don’t know if he wants to be right or not but either way—”

“He’ll lash out,” Andrew said almost absentmindedly.

—-

When Buck checked his phone when he went on his break, he found three missed calls from the same number that had called him before but no messages. He tried calling back again but no one picked up and the voicemail was generic and gave nothing away. Buck was very close to just blocking the number entirely and not dealing with it. But that was something for a later time. Buck sat down at one of the tables closer to the counter and started nibbling on his croissant. They had no customers at the moment and Buck wasn’t surprised when Ali walked around the counter and joined him.

“So, what’s happening on the fake coma ridden boyfriend with a hot brother front?”

Buck chuckled and rolled his eyes. “He’s awake for one thing. I think I texted you about it.”

“Yeah,” Ali said, “and I appreciated all the detail you gave me too.”

“He has amnesia,” Buck said.

“That, I did not see coming. So you’ve been saved to live another day of your fake life.”

Buck groaned and he dropped his forehead on the table. “It’s the worst. I have to tell them. I have to tell him. It’s just so damn hard.”

“I’ve been telling you to tell them for ages, Buck,” Ali said.

“Yeah, well…”

Buck wasn’t too surprised when his phone rang again and there was no one on the line. It was odd and as much as he wanted to just block the number and not have to deal with it, Buck was definitely considering going to Athena and seeing if she could track the number somehow. Buck had an idea that it might have been Abby and that she was trying to build up the courage to say something. He didn’t know if he wanted that or not. He was mostly leaning on not. And it wasn’t that Buck wouldn’t have appreciated more closure on the Abby front, but more that he just didn’t care to dredge all of that up again. His life was already chaotic enough as it was.

When Buck ended his shift, after Ali tried to list the number of reasons why he should tell Andrew the truth, Buck didn’t head to the hospital, but to Petco because Legolas was out of dog food and it was really up to him if that dog got taken care of which Buck didn’t mind in the least. After it was all over and he couldn’t see Legolas again, Buck was considering getting a dog of his own. If nothing else, the companionship would be nice.

For some reason, he couldn’t find the same brand of dog food that Andrew had at the house. So he started doing research right there in the aisle trying to figure out what an alternative could be. It felt silly to care so much about a bag of dog food for a dog that he probably wouldn’t see in a week’s time. In the end, he picked one with good reviews online and because Legolas deserved a treat, he bought him a couple of the cans of wet dog food of the same brand. And then he picked up a few dog biscuits too. Even if he was going to have to stop seeing Legolas eventually, Buck figured he would let Legolas know he did love him in at least one way.

The hospital was closer than Andrew’s house so that’s where Buck went next and as he parked his Jeep, he felt nervous and weird, but he walked in anyway and headed to the room. He was surprised when he found Andrew all alone. Buck had expected to find at least Pepa there since he knew Helena and Ramon had gone back home to Texas.

Andrew shot him a smile when he entered. “Hey, Buck,” he said.

“Hi,” Buck said. “How are you doing today?”

“I’m good,” Andrew said. “I’m not remembering anything still, but I’m good...you know while being in a hospital and all that.”

It was a bit awkward. Buck didn’t really know Andrew and to Andrew, Buck was just as much a stranger too. Except that Andrew was also under the impression that Buck was his boyfriend.

“Did you work today?” Andrew asked.

Buck nodded. “Yeah, I did. I’m a barista so I was up pretty early in the morning.”

Andrew looked surprised to hear that.

“What?” Buck asked.

“I just...for some reason I thought maybe you were a firefighter too. Just — the way my mom talked about how you helped me during the accident and then I think it was...Hen, Hen said you jumped in to give someone CPR. So I figured you were one too. It...it made sense to me.”

Buck chuckled and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m not—”

“Maybe you should be,” Andrew said. “I don’t remember much, but I know what it’s like to be a firefighter and a lot about fire science. My brother was quizzing me and it’s weird how I know things like that but not like stuff about my own life. But, anyway, maybe you’d be good at it.”

He would never know. Logically, Buck knew that he wouldn’t need to work with the 118 if he ever did decide to try and become a firefighter. Actually, the likelihood of being assigned there probably depended on a number of different variables. Buck was sure that things wouldn’t end well and that the best thing for him to do would be to remove himself and let things go back to how they were and it would be painful if he was inspired to become a first responder with the reminder of them hanging over him.

“I don’t know,” Buck said with a shrug. “Your parents left today, right?”

“Uh, yes. Texas. I grew up there...wasn’t expecting that.”

Buck chuckled. “Why?”

Andrew just shrugged. “I don’t know. So, um, can you tell me about yourself?”

“Like what?” Buck asked.

“Well so far I know you’re a barista. I probably should know a lot more about my boyfriend, don’t you think?” There was something like a challenge in Andrew’s voice.

His boyfriend. It was hard hearing Andrew say that like it was fact and not the biggest lie that Buck had ever told and kept going in his life. And it was an opening for Buck to correct it and tell the truth but it was as if he had something stuck in his throat because he couldn’t say it. The words wouldn’t come out. He was a coward.

“I have an older sister,” Buck found himself saying instead and he didn’t know why his first thought was Maddie.

“Ah, so you relate to the little brother conundrum,” Andrew said.

“Sorta. I guess. I haven’t seen her in a while. Eddie thinks I should just go and show up at her house and demand she see me. He says your family is pushy that way. But that’s not about me — you want to know about me.” Buck tried to think of something interesting. “I, um, I lived in South America for a while.”

“Know any Spanish?”

“Un poco,” Buck said. “Like very little. Enough to get by.”

[“A little…”]

Andrew chuckled. “So you need to practice, then,” he said. “And what did you do in South America?”

It felt a little bit like he was being questioned, but then Buck supposed that Andrew just wanted to know more about the people that were supposed to have some sort of meaning in his.

“I went on a whim and when I ran out of money I ended up bartending. I had no idea what else to do, then.”

“And you’re still doing that,” Andrew said. “Barista isn’t far from bartending, is it? It’s not what you want, I can tell. So what was it, what was the unattainable dream?”

Andrew was different from Eddie. He was straight forward and weirdly observant.

“Go on, tell me, it’s the least that I should know about you.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow at him as if to challenge Buck into telling him and Buck sighed. “I don’t think I ever knew what I wanted. Other than to get away from my parents. And then, I thought the Navy Seals but that didn’t work out.”

“And like I said, you should be a firefighter,” Andrew said with a smile. He really was still as attractive as ever.

“I’ll think about it,” Buck said.

“So you were in the Navy, then? I mean...to join the Seals? Was that before or after the bartending?”

Buck shook his head. “Um, no. You don’t have to be in the Navy...just have to prove you can be particularly badass, I guess. Which I am. But being able physically is different than mentally and than being able to just blindly follow. And that’s what they want, they want someone that can just turn off emotion and do whatever needs to be done and no amount of good that can come of that ever felt right for me.”

Andrew nodded slowly. He didn’t respond at once. “You want to help people,” he said eventually. “And you don’t want to be a firefighter?”

Buck chuckled. When put like that, it did sound like becoming a firefighter was the natural course of things.

“Somehow,” Andrew said, “I think this should have been a conversation we had before. But it’s not, is it?”

Buck shook his head. At least that wasn’t a lie. Andrew nodded to himself and he seemed to be trying to figure out what to say next.

“I was looking through that photo album,” Andrew said eventually. “There’s a news clipping in there from when I was a teenager. I saved someone from a fire. My mom told me about it but after I read the clipping it all came back to me.”

“Oh,” Buck said.

“It’s just I saved that woman,” Andrew said. “I remember it clearly. Running in and grabbing her and how hot it was. The smoke. But...I also started the fire.”

Buck hadn’t expected that. He also had no idea how to respond.

“I know, crazy. I never told anyone. It wasn’t...it wasn’t like I did it on purpose or anything but I was the reason it happened in the first place. I was hanging out with this girl and we were being stupid teenagers and didn’t even realize what we did but we got out and then she realized her mom was still inside.”

“So you ran back in,” Buck said, watching him.

Andrew gave a short nod and he ran his hand through his hair, his fingers getting caught where it was tangled. Before he could stop himself, Buck was up and reaching to help him get his fingers back. He lingered there, not quite looking at Andrew until his gaze fell down on him and he was surprised to see Andrew’s eyes on him too. Andrew was watching him, curiously.

“Sorry,” Buck said, letting his hand go and moving back to sit. “So, um, you ran back in?”

“Yeah,” Andrew said as if that moment a few seconds ago could be thrown aside and forgotten. “I got her out and then the firefighters arrived and they were all thanking me and telling me how good a job I had done and it was horrible when it all happened because I was being a dumbass. And my mom, she was the worst of them once she heard. She’s been telling that story forever and it only got worse once I decided to become a firefighter. I could never tell her. Never told anyone.”

“You’re telling me,” Buck said. “Why?”

Andrew shrugged and then he reached over and grabbed Buck’s hand. “You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” He asked.

Buck felt like all the breath had been pulled from his body, that someone had gripped him so tightly that it was all just expelled out of him. Andrew’s expectant look was almost cruel, but cruel only because Buck was lying and Buck deserved to be treated like the liar that he was.

“And I guess, I’m telling you because if I can do this, so can you. I can see it, the self-doubt. So you couldn’t make it as a Navy Seal...doesn’t mean you have to stop trying to be something else. And if it’s helping people that you’re interested in? Why not this?”

“Thanks,” Buck said for lack of something better to say and suddenly realized that Andrew was holding his hand. “I don’t—”

He trailed off when he heard someone running out in the hall and then in the next moment Denny ran into the room followed by Karen and Hen. Buck pulled his hand back from Andrew. He felt weirdly like he’d been burned.

“Buckaroo!” Hen cried. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

A while was a few days, but Hen walked over to him and hugged him as if they had been lifelong friends and she hadn’t seen him in weeks or months.

“And here I thought I was the one in the hospital,” Andrew said with a smile.

Hen turned and hugged him next. “You, I am so glad you’re okay even if you don’t remember anything at all. Not even your lovely boyfriend.”

“Hi, Buck,” Karen said and gave him a quick hug.

“Hi,” Buck said.

Although Denny had run into the room, he’d stopped at the foot of the hospital bed as if waiting for someone to notice him and since Hen was busy fussing over Andrew and Karen seemed to be trying to make her stop, it was Buck that motioned for him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said.

“Hi,” Denny said, but he moved closer. “Is he okay?”

“Andrew...yeah, he’ll be just fine.”

Karen intervened then, bringing Denny even closer and Andrew turned and smiled at him but even Buck could tell that it was a little bit strained and that he didn’t seem to know what to say to Denny but he managed and then Karen drew Denny away.

“Still bad with kids,” Hen said with a chuckle.

“Unlike Buck here,” Andrew said.

Buck shrugged his shoulders. “I like kids,” he said and he remembered suddenly that Eddie had told him once that Andrew didn’t. Maybe all of that was instinctual for him.

“That’s because you’re practically a kid too,” Hen said to Buck and it was hard to remember that Hen barely knew him.

“Thanks, Hen,” Buck said.

—-

His house felt different with his parents gone. Eddie also found that his mother had cleaned the place up to her liking before she left. She’d done his laundry and put away his clothes and moved everything from where it was supposed to go. His bathroom cabinet was rearranged and so it seemed was his closet. What Eddie couldn’t figure out was when she’d had time for any of it with how often she was at the hospital all day long. Christopher’s room even looked impeccable which was saying something because Chris wasn’t a messy kid but he was still a kid.

Eddie had been tasked with dropping them off at the airport earlier with promises that he would call every day with updates on Andrew. They were planning on returning soon but they were less anxious now that Andrew was actually awake.

“I’m gonna miss grandma and grandpa,” Christopher said.

“They’ll be back soon, kiddo,” Eddie said.

Eddie could admit to himself that it was nice to spend some time at home with Christopher after how chaotic the last week had been. He’d promised his mom that he would go visit Andrew later so he could give her an update, but he waited until right before dinner time to go so he could stop and pick up burgers for dinner since he was sure Andrew was sick of the hospital food.

“You are the best,” Andrew said when he and Christopher arrived and Eddie showed him the bag of food.

“Not me?” Christopher asked.

Andrew chuckled. “You’re always on top, little man.”

Eddie set Chirstopher up so he could eat and not make much of a mess of himself while he sat next to his brother to eat.

“How’s it been around here? Quieter without mom and dad, I bet.”

“A bit,” Andrew admitted. “Not too bad. Chimney visited earlier and Buck. Hen and Karen stopped by while Buck was here too.”

“And your head? Feeling okay?”

Andrew nodded. “Same, really. Still hurting a bit but nothing to worry about. And I’m remembering a few things...or kind of being reminded of some things. Why all the questions?”

“So I don’t have to guess at things when mom questions everything I tell her when she calls. She should really be calling you. Where’s your phone anyway?”

It was the first time that Eddie had considered where Andrew’s things had gone. Too much had been going on for anyone to notice that somewhere along the way Andrew’s phone and likely his wallet had disappeared. Unless the hospital passed it on to someone. Maybe Pepa or Abuela since they were the first ones with Andrew after the accident.

“I’ll ask Pepa about it tomorrow,” Eddie said. “And maybe your phone will give you more of a clue as to who you are.”

“Maybe,” Andrew said.

Eddie stuck around for a little over an hour but he couldn’t stay any longer if he wanted to get Christopher in bed at a decent hour. Andrew didn’t seem to mind when Eddie told him they were leaving since he was looking a bit tired and like he wanted to go to sleep. So they said goodbye, Christopher insisting on hugging his uncle.

Once they made it back home, Eddie sent Christopher to get ready for bed and then he tucked him in and read a story until his son was passed out. He stayed on the phone with his parents for a while afterwards when they called to check in about Andrew and then he also got himself into bed. It was going to be an early morning the next day since he had to get Christopher over to Abuela’s house before his shift started.

The next morning began with a missed call from Pepa and a voice mail:

“Eddie, hey, listen. I’m currently enroute to the hospital because—”

Andrew. It had to be Andrew. Something had to have happened with him overnight.

“—your abuela fell down.”

Eddie hadn’t expected that. It made a lump rise in his throat. He let the rest of the message play out.

“I don’t know what happened or how she is yet but she told me it wasn’t a big deal. Just wanted to let you know. I’ll call or text later with more details.”

Eddie closed his eyes for a long moment. He could tell by Pepa’s voice that there was nothing to worry about. Abuela would be fine. It was just that she liked to push herself and she didn’t like to ask for her. It was one of the reasons that Eddie usually hesitated in leaving Christopher with her for long periods of time. She was getting on in age and looking after a kid required some energy even one like Christopher that didn’t move all that fast. But without her, Eddie knew he would have never gotten anything done since she was retired and usually home unless she was out with Pepa. Mostly, Eddie left Christopher with Abuela when he worked twenty four hour shifts but even then, it was for the night so that an adult was around just in case Christopher needed something. That’s why Eddie had Carla — the home aid that Andrew had found for him when Eddie had moved to LA — but Carla was away visiting with her husband’s family out of state. In some ways it had been perfect that his parents were around the one week that Eddie was going to have child care issues.

After talking to Pepa he found out that Abuela had fallen while doing some cleaning and that she was going to be fine but needed to stay at the hospital for at least the day. Pepa would stay with her and check in on Andrew too. It was a relief to hear she’d be okay, but it still left Eddie with a problem.

Eddie spent a good chunk of his morning trying to find someone to watch Christopher but none of his cousins were available and Pepa was already dealing with Abuela at the hospital and short of leaving Christopher at the hospital with Andrew he had no one. It was out of desperation that he called Athena, wondering if she was working for the day or not. As it turned out, she was already at work and Eddie was lucky she picked up his call at all.

“I guess I’ll have to let Bobby know I won’t be coming in,” Eddie said.

“Or you could call Buck,” Athena said. “Seemed to me he and Christopher got along. I’m sure he’d be happy to look after him for the day.”

It was a twelve hour shift. It wouldn’t be overnight but Eddie would be getting back late. He didn’t know if he wanted to impose on Buck but he was running out of options.

“Thanks, Athena. I guess — it can’t hurt to ask.”

“It can’t,” Athena said.

He called Buck as soon as he was off the phone with Athena before he could change his mind because he hadn’t exactly been nice to Buck the last few times he’d seen him. Buck answered after a second ring.

“Hello,” he said.

“Buck, hi. It’s Eddie. Listen, I need a favor and I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.” Eddie stood up from his couch where he had been perched and moved to the window.

“Yeah, what is it?” Buck asked.

“I was wondering if you could watch Christopher for the day. It’s just that Abuela fell this morning. I don’t really have the details but she’s at the hospital and Pepa said it was minor. Anyway, she was supposed to watch him and can’t and I really have no one else. I’ll understand if you can’t or if you just don’t want to. I know watching a kid is a lot and—”

Buck cut him off. “I’d love to. I’m not working today and I had no plans other than going over to feed Legolas and maybe the hospital. And like I said, I love kids, man. Yours especially. He’s adorable.”

And of course Buck said yes. That was just who he was. Eddie shouldn’t have expected anything less, but he was still relieved.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I can — I can drop him off at your place if you want?”

Buck chuckled on the other side of the phone. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll text you my address.”

It was that easy and that simple. And the thing about it was that he’d known Buck for about a week and he trusted him. He trusted this man that was practically a stranger in so many ways to watch his son without any qualms at all and somehow it didn’t feel out of place.

Eddie went to wake Christopher when it was time and together they got ready for the day and then Eddie told him he was going to be spending the day with Buck. They packed up a bag full of anything that Christopher might need to keep himself entertained and then Eddie packed him a few snacks too just in case and a change of clothes and a few band-aids for good measure.

It turned out that Buck’s place wasn’t all that far from his place, so they made it there in no time and walked up to the apartment building and then inside. The building had an elevator at least so going up a few floors didn’t mean that Eddie was stuck climbing stairs and holding Christopher the whole way along with his stuff and his crutches. In general the building was nice. Newer and maybe even pricey which made Eddie wonder about how Buck was affording it when he was just a barista. His car was nice too and one of the newer Jeep models. It was yet another curious thing about Buck...another part of him that didn’t make a lot of sense.

Buck opened the door after one knock, smiling. A halo of light surrounded him from the window behind Buck and Eddie almost couldn’t look away from how much it highlighted the light sprinkling of freckles on his face and made his hair look lighter.

“Hey,” Buck said.

“Hi,” Eddie said.

Christopher stepped forward and Buck immediately dropped a hand into his hair. “Hey, kiddo. I guess it’s me and you for the day. We’re gonna have so much fun.”

Christopher giggled. “Cool,” he said.

“Not too much fun and not too much sugar either,” Eddie said. Christopher rolled his eyes. To Buck, Eddie whispered. “Seriously, you don’t want to deal with a hyper kid.”

Buck stepped back to let him in and Christopher made himself at home, walking into the apartment and making a beeline for the couch and the tv. Eddie dropped Christopher’s things on Buck’s table and he rattled off an explanation on what was inside.

“And you can call me any time okay. I’ll be at work but I’ll answer.”

“I think we’ll be okay, worrywart.” Buck said. “I’ll text you pictures, okay.”

“Okay,” Eddie said and then he ran towards where Christopher was so he could hug him goodbye. “Be good for Buck, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

“Love you.” To Buck as he went back to the door he said, “thank you again. I really — I had no one else.”

“I’m happy to help. Don’t worry about it. Go be a hero.”

Eddie gave him a nod and he left the apartment and for some reason he really didn’t feel worried. He trusted Buck that much. There were few people that Eddie did trust with Christopher and most of them were family. Buck was different. It should have been odd and strange to feel that way, but instead Eddie just felt grateful to have Buck.

–

Next Chapter

Notes: So...Andrew knows...and he’s a little shit. Things are happening guys and next up some Chris and Buck bonding.

Let me know what you all thought!

And if you want to be tagged in future chapters let me know. :)

Tagging: @tranquility-or-chaos @diazbuckleysworld @stilesgivesmefeels

#911 fox #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #buck x eddie #911 fox fic #fic #my fic #I'm With You

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

Text

1011.

1. Is there something you have been trying to learn lately? >> Nah. Mostly I’ve just been trying to improve at FFXIV, which is quite enough to be occupied with at this time.

2. If you ever feel like you are different from your extended family, in which ways is this? >> ---

3. When you think about your future career, do you envision yourself becoming the head honcho or CEO? If not, why not? >> I don’t think about careers. I definitely wouldn’t want to be in that position, either way.

4. Is there something that you are sort of weird about talking about? Like, a thing that other people find casual, but you feel uncomfortable when the subject comes up? >> I don’t think so. There are certain topics I don’t really care to hear mixed company’s opinions on sometimes, but that’s really all.

5. Can you think of a time when you seriously misjudged a music artist based on their name? >> I don't think so.

6. Do you ever make negative comments about other body types? How does it make you feel when you see or hear negative comments about your body type, or a physical trait that you have (even when it’s not directed at you)? >> I’m sure I have, but I refrain from doing so nowadays. I don’t usually see or hear negative comments about my body type, but as far as just general traits are concerned... I mean, obviously I don’t feel good about seeing stuff like that.

7. If you are in a situation where you feel like you are being attacked or not respected, how easy or difficult is it for you to stay and keep your head rather than leave in a huff? >> Why would I stay...? I don’t understand. Leaving the company of those who aren’t treating me with respect seems to me like the most logical option, not the least.

9. When you think about how attractive you feel and your favorite features, are you comparing yourself to a societal ideal? >> Well, undoubtedly.

10. If you have a favorite song right now: What is it? How did you first hear it? Why do you like it so much? >> I guess it’d be You Ain’t Coming Back by Zeal & Ardor, considering I’ve put it on repeat more than once (and I don’t usually feel moved to do that, even with other songs I really like). I don’t remember where I first heard the band, probably on tumblr or something, but the rest of their music I heard on Spotify. Trying to explain why I love a song has never worked out, so I’m not even going to try.

11. Have you ever had someone that has been your friend for a while come to you and tell you they had romantic feelings for you? How did you respond, and did the friendship survive? >> No. I can’t imagine it changing the friendship unless they insisted on being something other than friends, which would be very stupid of them, if they know anything about me at all.

12. Hypothetically speaking, if Hillary Clinton were running for President as a democrat against Chris Christie as a republican in 2016, who do you predict would win the election? >> ---

13. When you are getting to know someone new online (particularly someone male), how cautious are you of the possibility that they are serial killer/kidnapper? >> ... That's not the kind of thing I think about when I talk to people online. You know, the guy sitting next to me on the subway could be a serial killer, too. Like, really. At any point in time, I may come in contact with someone who is interested in killing me. But guess what -- I could be the killer, too. No one knows shit until it happens.

14. If you are talking to someone that you want to get to know, what are your go-to conversation topics? What subject makes you disappointed when another person isn’t interested in or knowledgable about it? >> I don't have any go-to conversational topics. I generally go along with the environment. Like, at a show, I'd talk about music with people. Or in a group setting, I’ll listen until someone brings up something I’m interested in. As far as the last question goes, I don’t really set myself up for disappointment in that way.

15. Say you have a lot of free time and want to join a club or class. You are browsing postings on local bulletin boards and online. What sort of group would you be interested in joining (e.g., book club, game group, crafts, golf lessons, etc.)? >> I have no idea what kind of group I’d be interested in joining. Most of my interests are pretty solitary activities (except, I guess, for certain video games, but meh).

16. Have you ever kissed someone that you didn’t really want to kiss (not assault, just indifference)? Why did you go along with it and how did you feel after? >> That describes a lot of the experiences I’ve had in that arena, yeah. I went along with it because I couldn’t think of a way out of it and I was probably pretty mentally checked out at the time. I think I just passively let a lot of random shit happen in the past because I couldn’t be bothered to care and I was entirely disconnected from my actual feelings about what was going on.

17. Have you recently learned anything about your personality? If not, have you ever consciously tried to change your personality? >> Probably.

18. Are you or any of your friends in a sorority or fraternity? Would you be interested in belonging to one? >> No and no.

19. Can you recall a recent time that you were surprised, but in a bad way? >> No.

20. Do you feel uncomfortable when you receive praise for doing certain things? If so, does this make you less likely to do those things? >> Praise evokes complicated feelings in me, period.

21. Do you make spontaneous purchases often or rarely? When you are upset does it make you temporarily happier to buy yourself something new? >> Rarely. I don’t have the kind of funds that would allow for spontaneous purchases.

22. If you have to wake up early for something, what time is just TOO early for you to be there and be presentable and sentient? Have you ever had to be somewhere that early? >> Eh, before sunrise, I guess. Although frankly, just because I can be presentable and sentient at a certain hour doesn’t mean I want to be. I like being awake early, when I’m by myself and can just chill and do whatever I want to do in the morning. I don’t like being awake early for the sake of going outside and interacting with people.

23. Have the majority of your romantic relationships started with a physical attraction or a deeper connection? >> Almost all of my relationships started because some dude thought I was hot and asked me out and I didn’t care enough to decline. The notable exceptions are the last two, one of which was a horrible experience and the other which led to marriage (and also didn’t involve a dude, and isn’t typically “romantic” as such).

24. Do you ever catch any of those conspiracy shows on Animal Planet, like Bigfoot hunting or proof of Mermaids? Do those shows make your more or less likely to believe in the existence of such creatures? >> I don’t watch those shows.

25. Did you ever write a fan letter to a celebrity? How about submit something to a magazine? >> I haven’t done either.

#surveys #survey #random survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: Love, Maybe? {14}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. 3 years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

**Partially Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 14: Finding Vixen

-Vixen-

“Wow, things are moving quickly.”

You spun around the construction site the crew was making progress with the space that would be your restaurant. You couldn’t believe in a matter of weeks what was happening.

“Things move quickly when everything aligns,” Zack responded from behind you. You looked to him and smiled, but as you stared at him, you only saw one face looking back at you. The smile slipped from your lips, and you gulped down the emotion threatening to spill out. Turning your back, you tried your best to pull yourself together.

“You okay Vixen?”

Clearing your throat, you nodded as you took a few steps away to what would or could be the spot for the outdoor eating spot. You bit your bottom lip, while a swell of pride and accomplishment fulled you, sadness and a feeling of being overwhelmed flooded you as well. It had been four days since you’d seen Chris, four days since your entire world had come crashing down, four days since the feelings you thought were long gone surfaced again, four days since the encounter you’d always dreaded and planned would go smoothly went the opposite. Sighing you took a deep breath and turned to face Zack, Kassius and the small team that was assembled for your expansion.

“Are you happy with this so far? Any suggestions?”

Glancing around you took in the demolition that looked just to have begun. You shook your head.

“No, this looks to be the beginning nothing much to make suggestions on. I’d like to look at it again once it’s cleared out, just want to make sure everything transitions right.”

“Absolutely. I’ve seen Giovanni’s in San Fran; I can imagine how particular you are about the visual of your restaurant. As long as we’re on schedule, things should be clear in another day or two,” Timothy one of the members of the team said.

You nodded and made your way to the front door as everyone else followed. When you stepped out into the LA sun, you placed your sunglasses on your nose. Zack approached beside you and put his hand on the small of your back.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just haven’t gotten a lot of sleep the last few days, and it’s always a hassle moving in.”

Zack nodded and slowly rubbed your back. You tried not to shy away from his touch.

“I can treat you to a relaxing night, dinner, a drink, maybe a massage.”

He smiled softly, and you felt the genuineness of his offer, but you knew it wasn’t something you were going to pass on. You smiled, hoping to soften the blow.

“You’re so sweet Zack, I appreciate it, I really do, but since the move, Ella hasn’t gotten back to her regular sleeping schedule I need to focus on her right now. I’m sorry.”

He looked as if he were trying to swallow the rejection. You hoped he wouldn’t make it a big thing. In all truth, while you liked his company, you really didn’t want to date. You didn’t feel much of anything for anyone, except him. Zack nodded, looked down, and nodded some more.

“I understand. You’re a mom first. It’s admirable. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not disappointed, but I understand. Just uh—I want you to know that I like you Vixen, I didn’t expect it, but there it is. I would like to get to know you better really try to build something with you.”

“Uuugh, jeez Vix. What do you say to that?”

After you looked around you taking notice of how close the others were you decided now wasn’t the right place to let him down. You also didn’t want to lead him on.

“All right Vixen, so we’re going to schedule another walk through once all demo is done, and we’ll make some decisions. I have a few mocks for you to look over and hopefully by then we’ll have some ideas,” Kassius said.

“Yes, I’ll look over these.”

You took the folder that looked thicker than a George A. Romano novel and bugged your eyes out.

“Good lord.”

“Yes, a lot of decisions to be made, this is the fun part,” he finished with a broad smile on his face.

“I’ll see you then. Are you coming, Zack? We’re still on for golf?”

Zack looked at you and nodded once he realized you weren’t going to respond to his declaration. You were glad your shades were darker than the midnight sky because your eyes weren’t hiding anything.

“Yeah. I’ll call you,” Zack said before he walked to Kassius and the two walked off to Kassius’ bright red sports car. You nodded your head to the rest of the team and made your way to your rental car.

You looked into the mirror and shook your head before you started your engine to begin on your to-do list. At the top was picking up some more groceries, then some office supplies and then to pick up some stuff for Ella. You hated the grocery places around the house; they were overpriced for no reason, and the produce never looked fresh. That meant you were going to drive over five miles to get to the supermarket Zack told you about—Gleason’s.

As you drove your mind drifted back to seeing Chris. The last time you’d seen him, you’d told him to have a nice life. You were pissed and hurt, and it seemed like a good enough thing to say. Shit, you didn’t even know why you were pissed, you brought it on yourself. You were stupid enough to think that there was anything possible between the two of you.

You should have known better. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke, and dressed it screamed bachelor, screamed down for a good time and nothing more. Every alarm rang off in your head about him the minute you saw him at the table. Everything in you screamed “don’t,” but the other voice in you said, “just do it, it’s Vegas.” Yeah well, “it’s Vegas” turned into a kid and haunting memories. That didn’t change the fact that he was still gorgeous and his shoulders were bigger than ever.

“Of course he had to be gorgeous. Of course he couldn’t turn ugly or have gained thirty pounds of fat. No, he got sexy as fuck and gained thirty pounds of muscle.”

You groaned loudly and focused again on the GPS that predicted you’d reach your destination in five minutes. Once you parked in the lot, you roamed the aisles pushing the cart before you.

“Black tea, herbal tea, coffee, check.” You dropped the items in the cart and went perusing down the next.

“Rice Krispies, honey bunches of oats, oatmeal, flour, food coloring, sugar, yeast, check.”

You turned down the refrigerator aisle to scan for eggs, milk, butter, cheese, yogurt, orange juice, coffee creamer, jello, cream cheese, and that disgusting iced coffee drink Nexus loved. With your list about half done you allowed yourself to get distracted in the produce section where they held fresh flowers. You loved fresh flowers. There were pink, red, blue, yellow and even white flowers of all varieties. You decided on two beautiful assortments of pink and yellow roses and a separate one of pink orchids, you loved orchids. Tipping your head down to take a whiff of the fragrant flowers you looked over to the other side of the section and saw the actor Nexus was losing her mind over—Anthony Mackie. Quickly putting the flowers in your cart you made a u-turn to get back on track, you definitely didn’t want a run in.

Just as you thought you were safe in the bread aisle holding two selections of bread, one you liked and one Ella couldn’t get enough of you you saw him. Your legs thought you had time to make another getaway, but your brain knew better, he saw you too. Anthony approached you with a friendly smile on his face as he tipped his hat lower. You knew it was pointless, but you still turned and rolled out the aisle. As soon as you made it to the soda and water aisle, he was at your side.

“Vixen right?”

Sighing, you nodded. “That’s right.”

“I’m going to say you didn’t see me, that’s why you walked away; otherwise, that was rude.”

You snorted and shook your head. He had to be kidding.

“I was trying to protect your incognito look. I’m thinking if these people knew they were walking next to The Falcon himself they’d draw a scene and there goes your disguise. By the way, that’s a horrible disguise.”

Anthony chuckled and nodded his head.

“Of course you’re as snarky as your sister. Speaking of, how is she? Is she here?”

You looked at Anthony as he quickly looked up and down the aisle as if looking for her. Scoffing again you responded, “No, she’s not here. Why does it matter?”.

“Just curious.”

“Bullshit!”

You laughed out loud and pushed the cart further and placed other items in your cart. “I can see right through you. Looks like another one bites the dust.”

“Another one bites the dust? What does that mean?”

“It means you’ve been hit with the Nexus haze. Almost every man that speaks to her for any amount of time falls under her spell. You Mr big-time movie star are no different.”

Anthony smiled and shrugged, but he didn’t look as smug as he usually did, no this time he looked as if he felt threatened as if he were worried. He should be Nexus wasn’t half a woman like these barbie doll actresses and models she was one hundred percent that bitch and she was a force to be reckoned with. The two of you walked in silence for a few feet.

“So, I learned a fun fact recently. You’d never believe it,” Anthony began.

“Oh yeah, what fun fact is that?”

“Three years ago, a woman went to Vegas for some fun and ended marrying Captain America himself.” Your brain failed to communicate with your legs, and you just stopped in the middle of the aisle.

“He told him. Shit!”

“But you believe it, because—,” Anthony leaned into your ear and whispered. “You are that woman.”

You looked to him, unsure what to say. You could deny, deny, deny, but you were sure Chris was the one to tell him. You sighed again.

“Don’t worry, he’s my best friend, your secret is safe with me.” You walked again and turned down another aisle.

“Was it shock that had you running like a bat outta hell, or was it something else? Do you hate him?”

“I hate no one; there is no time for all of that. I have too many things to accomplish.”

“Okay, a mature one. He lucked out,” Anthony joked. The humor of it was lost on you. You didn’t bother laughing or smiling about it either.

“It was good seeing you again, take care,” you rushed out as you walked to the cash-out. You didn’t know if you’d gotten everything, but you needed to get out of there. It was insane; every second you spent around him, you felt it was only a matter of time before he saw the truth through your eyes, or seeping from your pores.

You unloaded the groceries on the belt then saw Anthony help. Rolling your eyes, you stayed quiet.

“How do you feel about seeing him again after so long?”

Groaning you turned to him your frustrations seeped out. “What’s it to you? What’s with all the questions? We did what we did, but we also went through with the divorce, it’s all water under the bridge now. No need to keep talking about it.”

Anthony studied you as you continued to unload the groceries so the cashier could do her job. You were usually good at keeping your emotions in check, but everything was becoming a lot more difficult. You hated it.

“Whew, that sounds like a lot of hurt and anger, years worth of it. Maybe not so much water under the bridge, huh.” Antony’s eyes bored into you, and you narrowed yours. Anthony nodded again and stepped back.

“Take care of yourself Vixen. Oh, and could you give your sister a message for me? Tell her I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t plan on it. I was telling her the truth.”

As quickly as he appeared, he disappeared, allowing you to focus again. You moved as quickly as you could to wrap up the rest of your errands. By the time you made it home, the sun was down, and you had a car full of shit. After thirty minutes of unloading and unpacking, you dropped onto the couch to catch your breath. Ella ran to you, you quickly scooped her up and dropped kiss after kiss across her face. She released an uproar of giggles that made your heart swell.

“Top, top, top!”

“No, no, no, take all mommy’s kisses, take them all!”

Her laughter filled the entire room, and soon, Nexus was beside you holding Ella down as she tickled her small ribs. This only made her wiggle and scream even more. The two of you slowly stopped, and Ella settled down comfortably in your arms, holding tightly to you.

“Long day?”

You looked to Nexus and nodded.

“That’s a big book.”

“It is, and I have a few more days to look through and find my aesthetic for the next round of meetings. Things are moving fast. Maybe we can be in and out of LA sooner than I thought.”

Nex gave you a look that said: “be real, aren’t you forgetting something.” You ignored it and flipped through the design pages.

“Vixen.”

“What do you think of this one? It’s airy and modern but still has a traditional vibe.”

Flipping to another page, you have the book your full attention. Seeing another contender, you showed your sister.

“Ooh, this looks very modern like a real celebrity restaurant. Doesn’t say much to traditional comfort but what the hell step into the times, right.”

“Vixen!”

“What!?”

“You know what,” Nexus exasperated. You shrugged and continued to flip the pages determined not to address what Nex clearly wanted you to.

“Vixen, you know damn well you can’t leave LA without telling Chris about Ella.” You groaned and rolled your eyes.

You knew you shouldn’t have told her shit. Now it would be even harder to ignore the shoulds. When you didn’t answer after a few minutes, she took the heavy binder off your lap and placed it on the side table nearest her. Groaning you stood and walked back in the kitchen to busy yourself, hoping it would distract you. You took out the meat for the meatballs you planned on making to accompany the spaghetti—Ella’s favorite. Refusing to take the hint, Nex walked in and crossed her arms before the island. You knew ignoring her would only work for so long, but you were going to milk it for every second you could.

You took out the flour and the other ingredients to make your signature pasta. Once you opened the fridge to grab some tomatoes and herbs for your sauce and closed the door, you came face to face with Nexus’ annoyed face. You snorted unable to hide your amusement.

“This isn’t funny Vix. It’s serious and a huge thing. It’s not just your life; you’re impacting. There are two other people, one small who cannot make a decision and the other who--,”

“Who what Nex? You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s really like,” you blurted out slamming the cutlery drawer a tad harder than you intended.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Again you ignored her and began washing your produce, focusing on getting every invisible speck of dirt. You’d told her the cliff notes version, beginning, middle, then end. You didn’t tell her the in between. You didn’t want to relive it out loud, you were fine keeping it a trip you took every night before you went to sleep. Once the produce was washed, you got to work chopping and dicing. You knew you were stressed because the knife was moving faster than ever and you knew she saw it too.

“I’m waiting. What does that mean? What is he really like?”

Kissing your teeth, you shook your head, “Forget it, Nex; it’s not important.”

“Clearly it is. There has to be a reason why you never told him about her, a reason you never claimed the child support that was rightfully yours. You know you could have used it while you were pregnant and the parts of the first year. Why? Did he hurt you? does he hit women?”

Nex shifted her stance, and you knew she was ready to pop off. She’d always been your keeper, your protector. You remembered a few girls she’d seriously beat down because they looked at you wrong across the playground. You sighed out, taking a pause with the chopping to give her a reassuring look.

“No, he didn’t hit me.” You saw her shoulders relax and her expression softening; then you returned to the task at hand.

“So he didn’t hit you. He did hurt you though.”

Nexus was no idiot. She knew how to hear what you said and decipher what you didn’t. You did your best to give no reaction as you moved around the kitchen.

“Okay, I get it. You didn’t tell him to spite him.”

“No!”

Though you adamantly rebuked that, part of you felt a way and you wondered if any part of you felt that way.

“Okay. So he hurt you, you ran back home with your tail tucked, and you hid away for the next near three years. What did he do?”

“Nex, please. It’s not important. Let’s drop it.”

“I’m trying to help. You seem to be ignoring or purposely forgetting that you have to tell him. I owe him nothing, and I don’t know him from Adam and my loyalties don’t lie with him that’s with you--,”

“So drop it. Have my back, be my pitbull!”

“Vix, don’t ever get it twisted and think I’m not riding for you one hundred. It’s always been you and me against the world, and it’s still that way. Just—this goes past that. This is a morally right and wrong issue. How would you feel not knowing you had a mini replica of you running around the world?”

“Fine, because I wouldn’t know.” Nexus walked around the island to you and put her arm around you. She could sense your breakdown was imminent. She gently rubbed your bare arm and let the silence fill the room. You closed your eyes, hoping to stop your warring thoughts. Of course part of you knew what she was saying was sound and right, but the other side refused to hear it.

“You’re afraid,” Nexus worded.

There it was plain as day, no hidden pretenses, no shade, no covers, just blatant truth. You were afraid. You were shitfaced scared.

“It’s okay to be scared. There is nothing wrong with it. Hell if you weren’t scared I’d be worried because that would show that you really have no intention of doing the right thing. I know you, Vix, do the right thing is your middle name. Somewhere inside you know you have to tell him, want to or not, have to and should outweigh it this time.”

“This is why I didn’t want to go to that stupid expo or come to this dumb place. It has a way of stealing and crushing dreams,” you groaned out.

“Or realigning them and showing you a new, different, better dream.”

You glanced at Nexus, took a deep breath, and released it. She was right — bottom line.

“Fuck!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

415-653-7575.

It wasn’t hard to get. All he had to do was google her and her location. He had all her information from three years ago. He had her full name, city, state, P.O Box information. In truth, he had everything he needed, and if he needed more, he could easily get more, it was a perk of being him. In all the years he didn’t use it, didn’t search, didn’t allow his curiosity to take over. Today he did.

It took him less than a minute to find her on Google, her name was uncommon, there was literally one Vixen Giovanni in San Francisco. It took him another minute to find her restaurant. Her restaurant. He was impressed. She said she wanted to open a restaurant and be a chef and she’d accomplished it, and she was successful. He spent nearly twenty minutes just looking through food reviews, articles, and pictures all of her and everything he remembered thinking and feeling those years ago came back.

He suspected it would be like this—feared it really which made him avoid doing this very thing for so long. He was afraid he was right, and he was. It took him the next hour to get the balls to call the number for her restaurant. An hour where he went over and over what he would say. He didn’t know where you were; it had been nearly a week since he saw you, you could have gone back to San Francisco.

He went over and over what he would say if you answered. He didn’t know if he should go with a calm and cool introduction; “Hey Vixen, remember me your ex-husband,” or an apologetic one; “I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from but—.” It was impossible to read you from the quick exchange days ago. You hadn’t spoken, you didn’t look angry, or happy or anything, your expression was blank, and then you were gone. He didn’t know what to expect.

When hour two was near, he bit the bullet and dialed your restaurant. The hostess transferred him to the manager who informed him you were out of town. Due to his quick thinking, he pretended to be interested in a potential business opportunity, it was then the manager gave him your cell phone number. He was surprised it was that easy. Now that was where he was, staring at your number with a bottle of beer on his right side, whiskey on the other and a joint in his hand. He leaned back and took several long puffs before holding them for a breath allowing the drug to haze away all his thoughts. Once he blew out the smoke, he took a long swig of his beer.

“Jesus Chris, it’s not hard, just dial the number. One step at a time.”

He took up his phone and punched in the numbers and hovered his finger over the green button, thinking about his actions one last time. Taking another long pull from his joint, he tapped the button and put it on speaker. It rang once, twice, three times and before he tapped the red button to end the call, a voice called out through the line.

“Hello?”

His brain froze, and speech did with it, so he sat there completely flustered.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Still, he didn’t speak. Only when the line went dead did he move, he dropped back against the couch and groaned loudly into the night sky.

“Come on, man!”

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****If the spacing is all messed up I apologize. I copy and past from Word and try to anticipate Tumblr messing up the spacing and fix it but once I push post everything always jumbled out. Sorry guys.

#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans x you #chris evans smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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limitededitionsanderssidesblog · 5 years

Text

Love Like You - Chapter 1/2

Ships: Anxceit, Logicality

Summary: Now thirty years old, Virgil has given up on romance and love and, at the suggestion of his friends, instead turns to adoption as the only means fill the hole in his heart, only to realize that he's not yet ready to be a father either. However, he's found himself growing attached to a pair of orphaned brothers and the man who watches over them.

Chapter 2

AO3 - Here

Since no seems to be writing wholesome anxceit fics, I decided to take it into my own hands.

With his thirtieth birthday one day away, Virgil has since given up on ever finding the love of his life. Oh sure, there had been a boyfriend here or there over the years, but each and every one of his relationships always came to an end. His best friend and coworker at the local public library, Logan, told him that it was estimated that most people in the state of Florida got married at the age of twenty-nine, so Virgil held onto hope that he’d met his special someone before then.

In hindsight, he should have realized that that estimate was for people who weren’t an anxious mess that pushed people away the moment any intimate action was enacted.

That meant that the years of his mid and late twenties passed in a flash of loneliness and disappointment, with no partner or happy ending to show for it. The worst part of it all was probably not the fact he was going to die an old maid, but rather that his nagging, albeit accepting, mother would never let him live it down. Virgil was her only child, and it was a miracle she even had him considering her condition, so he knew that no matter what he’d have her love. That didn’t mean he was free from her constant questioning as to when he was going to bring home a man.

He envied Logan sometimes, he and his boyfriend Patton, another good friend of his, had been together for a little over two years now and were virtually inseparable. Virgil loved the two of them, but sometimes seeing them act like a picture-perfect couple from a marriage poster made him want to go jump out the nearest window and hiss at them until his throat ran dry from dehydration and spite.

Virgil couldn’t do that right now though, because he desperately needed their help on what in the world to do about his situation.

Currently, he sat with his two best, and only, friends at their favorite diner. He and Logan had just closed up the library an hour ago, while Patton worked as an assistant at an Elementary school and got off a few hours ago. The two were again acting disgustingly cute and perfect, causing Virgil to stab a little more forcefully at his food than necessary.

“Are you sure it’s that big of a deal, Virge? I know tons of people who are dating in their thirties, and even older than that!” Patton told him reassuringly, trying to give solace that he wouldn’t take.

“Of course it is! Most of those relationships end up breaking up anyway. I’m literally one day away from being off the market forever and being alone for the rest of my life, I gotta do something!” Virgil shoving his face with comfort food to avoid a public meltdown.

“Hm, well have you thought of other alternatives to romantic love?” Logan asked from across the booth, sipping on a cup of hot tea.

“I’m not gonna do it with random dudes to feel better, Lo.” Virgil deadpanned, his face contorting with a look of disgust.

“No, I mean something like familial love.” He clarified, setting his cup down on the table and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps you’d feel a different type of fulfillment if you adopted a child.” He said as if it were perfectly normal to suggest and not at all life-changing.

“Wait, Logan, hold on-”

“Great idea Logan!” Patton chimed in excitedly, “Oh you’ll love the little ones, Virge, they’re so adorable and funny.”

“Pat, that’s not-”

“Not to mention distracting. You’ll hardly notice your lack of an intimate relationship if you're taking care of a child.” Logan added bluntly, slightly stinging Virgil’s nonexistent ego.

“Would you guys just-”

“Ah! We’re gonna be uncles! I can’t wait until they get here!” Patton rambled, cupping his face as he started to drift off into dreamland, imaging whatever kid the two were trying to push onto him.

Realizing that the couple wasn’t going to stop to give him a turn to speak any time soon, Virgil quickly slammed his hands on the table, softly, to not anger the diner staff, and stood from his seat to gain their attention.

“Who said that I wanted to be a father?” Virgil shouted, slightly louder than he had meant. A few other patients of the diner turned to look at them, but Virgil kept his eyes on his friend and tried to keep his embarrassed blush down to a minimum.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to Virgil, it was a mere suggestion,” Logan said, adjusting himself in his seat.

“Yeah, well it felt more like a decision.” Virgil fell back into his seat, pouting.

“Kiddo, it’s okay if you’re not ready, or if you don’t want to at all. But maybe bringing in a little bundle will add new meaning to your life.” Patton said warmly in his ‘dad’ voice, “If you’d like, I can go with you to the local adoption agency where I volunteer to go play with the kids. Maybe that will help?”

Virgil sat silent for a moment with his arms crossed, staring out the window to watch the cars go by on the city street. Tonight had not gone as he had expected it to, he had simply wanted to complain about his loveless life and chug down bowls of ice cream until midnight with his friends. Yet, now he was faced with a new decision in his life that would drastically alter it. While Virgil didn’t necessarily dislike kids, he just hadn’t ever pictured himself with one. Sure, he used to babysit the neighborhood kids to make extra money when he was in high school, but they were someone else’s and he got to give them back when the day was done. If he were to adopt, they’d be his and his alone. It would be his responsibility to feed them, clothe them, house them, and overall care for them.

Although, when he thought about it, it may be nice to go home to a condo that wasn’t quiet and instead filled with childish laughter. He’d have someone to spoil and treat out to meals, and also the perfect excuse to go see the latest Disney movie without feeling like a weirdo. Perhaps, being a dad would be a good thing.

“Fine, we go tomorrow at noon.” Virgil gave in with a deep sigh. A bright and cheery smile then burst onto Patton’s face, while Logan simply gave a knowing grin. “B-but that’s it, I’m just gonna play with the kids!”

Patton laughed kindheartedly and Logan gave him a small humored huff. They both knew Virgil got easily attached, it was part of the reason he chased away every single man that came near him. Because despite all his moaning about wanting a significant other and blaming his crippling old age for why he didn’t have one, it was his actually his own guilt with Matthew that kept him from ever fully committing to another relationship. All he needed was to gain a bit more confidence, and a child may just be what the doctor ordered.

The next day found Virgil standing anxiously outside the Stork Agency building alone as he waited for Patton to arrive. They had both agreed to be there at twelve, but Virgil didn’t want to risk arriving late, so he had come thirty minutes early just in case there was an unforeseen increase in traffic, an accident on the road, or anything else that might happen that would cause him to make Patton wait for him. Except now he was just awkwardly waiting outside an adoption agency looking like a complete creep. Virgil wanted to just be swallowed up by the ground and be taken away from this awkward situation, but thankfully Patton had arrived just in time to save him from his inner turmoil.

“Hey, Virge, Happy birthday! Am I late?” He asked as he closed the door to his car and ran over to where he stood on the sidewalk.

“Nah, you’re all good, and thanks,” Virgil said with a shrug and a grin.

Now that they had met up together there, the pair walked together to the front of the agency, Virgil a step behind. The agency’s building itself was small and looked like an older house. The Stork Agency was known in their city for being a place where fosters often went, actual adoption didn’t happen all too often with the children there. According to the stories, most of the children there had all come from harsh backgrounds, whether it be deceased parents or rescue from abusive households. The majority of hopeful parents looking to adopt wanted children from happier backgrounds, or wanted the child from birth, so the Stork Agency wasn’t the most funded adoption agency around, but they made do with government aid.

Patton, bless his heart, was inspired to volunteer here because of the children’s unfortunate situation and had been helping out the owner on his days off for the past year. He and Logan both would hear plenty of stories about the silly shenanigans the children got into there, and even a few stories of the owner getting pranked on. If he remembered correctly, the guy’s name was Dexter and he was in his mid-thirties, running the agency with only a handful of helpers. That kind of life sounded extremely stress-ridden to Virgil, he couldn’t fathom how the guy managed.

Walking up the porch steps to the house, Patton reached into his pocket to pull out his key to let them inside. Doubt and unrest began to flood his nerves. I’m just here to play with the kids, He reminded himself in an attempt to calm himself down, I don’t know if I want to adopt yet, I’m just going to play.

“Knock knock! Guess who’s here?” Patton announced his arrival cheerfully once they walked in.

Virgil closed the door behind them and gingerly took a look around the place. It wasn’t dark, dreary, or full of cobwebs, in fact, the living room was painted a happy yellow color, the furniture was slightly frayed, but not horribly so, and the shelves and walls were decorated with neat little trinkets and paintings. Overall, the house looked rather homey.

The second Patton called out a chorus of cheers sounded from the other room and at least four small children came running in and surrounded them, screaming Patton’s name joyfully. Patton grinned and greeted each one of them at a time and introduced them to Virgil. The children then turned their curious eyes onto Virgil, looking at him with expectant and hopeful eyes. Virgil knew the intent behind them, they all were expecting him to choose one of them to adopt today. If his life were a videogame, he’d unlock an achievement for feeling peer pressured and cornered by small children.

Virgil suddenly felt significantly less comfortable being there, with four bright-eyed and bushy-tailed three to five-year-olds all gazing up at him and circling him almost like miniature vultures, he amazed himself that it had only taken a grand total of forty-eight seconds for him to be trapped by toddlers.

Maybe I’m not actually ready for this.

“Damn it, Remus! Get back here right this instant!” A sudden yell came from the room where the children had come out a minute before, causing Virgil to flinch slightly and look up in confusion and foreboding.

Following that commanding shout, a little brown-haired boy, around perhaps ten years old, came bolting out into the living room, a large smile on his face and a bowl of spaghetti on his head. A tall, older man ran fast on his heels and chased after him into the now crowded space. The boy, Remus apparently, ran and jumped over furniture, leaving drips of tomato sauce in his wake, and found a hiding place right behind Virgil. The man chasing after the kid slowed to a stop once he reached him, finally noticing the stranger in the room.

Now that he was no longer running around Virgil was able to get a good look at the man’s face. It was nice, long, with sharp edges and cheekbones. His eyes were a soft yellowish auburn brown color that reminded him of caramel. His hair was short and neat and a simple light brown, on anyone else it would look plain, but on him it was elegant. There was a patch of different colored skin on the left side of his face, but that seemed to only add to his charm.

Virgil felt like a potato sack in the presence of such a gorgeous looking man.

“Uh, sir?” The beautiful man asked, pulling Virgil out from his distracted thoughts.

“Hm? Oh- yes, sorry!” Virgil spluttered out an apology, dropping his head to stare at his feet, realizing that he had just been ogling this guy for who knows how long.

Damn it, he must think I’m a creep. Stop it, Virgil! you’re thirty years old for goodness sake! Now’s not the time for childish pining. He must hate me now. Well, I just ruined my nonexistent chances.

Virgil’s nervous thoughts scrambled in his mind, turning his words to mush and dropping his self-esteem to negative zero. He knew he looked like a wreck and braced himself for the ridicule that was sure to come. However, he wasn’t met with the sound of disgust or cruel comments that he had been expecting, but rather a light and kind sounding chuckle.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry if we interrupted you, mister…” He trailed off, leaving an opportunity for him to introduce himself.

“Oh, uh, Virgil- Virgil Black.”

“Virgil, huh?” He said thoughtfully. Virgil prepared himself again for ridicule but again didn’t receive any. “What a nice name. I’m Dexter Serpente, owner and head caretaker of Stork.” He held a hand out, removing a rubber yellow glove, and offered it. “Nice to meet you.”

He must have just finished washing some dishes.

“Yeah, uh, likewise,” Virgil said and shook his hand, impressed by how surprisingly firm his hands were.

As they were talking and introducing themselves, Remus, who had taken refuge behind him, had begun to creep out in an attempt to make his escape. Dexter caught on fast to his little scheme, however, and quickly grabbed his shoulder as he tried to run by.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast young man.” He tutted and turn to the boy, taking the bowl of spaghetti from his head and set it down on the nearby coffee table so that he could clean out his hair.

“No fair! You took away my crown!” Remus complained, squirming in the adult’s grasp.

“Remus I told you before, being duke of spaghetti does not mean you get to put your lunch in your hair.”

“Yes, it does! Roman gets to have a crown of his own, why can’t I?”

“Because his crown is made of paper.” Dexter sighed, plucking the last noodle off his head. Running his gloved hand through the boy’s hair, Dexter picked up the bowl from the table and then turned to Patton, a look of relief flooding over his face. “Patton, would you mind taking Remus to the bathroom to clean up? I have to make sure the others finish their lunch.”

“Of course!” Patton smiled, leaving Virgil’s side with an encouraging pat on the back before walking over to Remus and leading him away up the flight of creaking stairs to the right of the entryway.

“I’m sorry about all that, would you like to have a seat while I finish up in the kitchen? Or would you rather spend some time with the kids?” Dexter inquired, shooing the smaller children to the room they were in before.

“Oh, no no, I’m not- I mean I am, uh, I’m-” Virgil stuttered wildly, trying to find the words to convey that he had come with the idea of adopting, but wanted to back out after realizing that he wasn’t as ready as he thought he was.

Dexter, on the other hand, appeared to understand him immediately and held up a hand to stop his rambling.

“It’s okay, trust me, a lot of people have second thoughts.” He said kindly with no ill intent, even so, it still stung Virgil.

“I’m sorry.” Virgil apologized, turning his head away in shame.

“Don’t be, fostering is hard work, it’s okay if you need time.”

Oh, he doesn’t know. Virgil realized in his head, Dexter had thought that he had just been looking to foster, not adopt. He relaxed a little knowing that, yet another part of him felt slightly saddened. Does he think I can’t handle adopting?

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, visiting hours end at five though. Five of our kids are in school at the moment, but you’ll be able to meet them later if you stay.” The man offered,

“I don’t know...” Virgil said uneasily, shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet and twiddling his thumbs in the pockets of his hoodie. It may not be such a good idea to stay any longer, he’d only be raising the children’s hopes if he did.

Dexter watched him and discerned what he meant, he let out a small breath but still gave him a forgiving smile. Virgil could tell that he had disappointed the man though and that in itself stung.

“I understand,” he asserted, nodding his head, “I have to go finish with lunch, but it was nice meeting you, Mr. Black.” He said with a small wave.

“You too.” Virgil raised his hand to wave back, but the other had already turned and walked away, “Bye��”

Damn it, why am I like this?

Virgil groaned loudly and hung his head in defeat, stepping over to and falling down onto the beige, loveseat couch to the left side of him, shoving his face into his palms. He knew coming here wouldn’t be a good idea, he’s not good parent material and he never will be. The only thing this visit accomplished was raising many people’s hopes only to not come through in the end. Exactly what had Logan and Patton been thinking when they suggested he do something such as this?

I’m gonna die alone, aren’t I? I can’t adopt, I’m not fit to do so. I can’t get a boyfriend either. All of my relationships end in failure. I shouldn’t even try anymore. Nothing will change, I’m gonna be an anxious mess forever. I’m too old for this.

The abrupt sound of rapid footfalls down the stairs quickly yanked Virgil back into the waking world. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed Patton heading down the old oak staircase, appearing to be in a rush, and jumped up to meet him.

“Well, I gotta go, I only managed to get the morning off on such short notice,” Patton told him, taking off a damp apron and pulling on the coat that he had been holding in his arms. Virgil stood off to the side a ways away from him, looking somber. In his flurry of action, Patton caught Virgil’s gaze momentarily and immediately stopped everything he was doing. “What’s wrong, Virge?”

“I don’t think I can do this, Pat.” Virgil confided, hanging his shoulders feebly.

“Sure you can! You love kids, you’re fun to hang out with, and you’re responsible!” Patton said encouragingly, taking a seat on the couch next to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. “But I’ve never had to deal with a kid for more than one day at a time. The kids here are all looking for someone to be their parent. They’d probably be disappointed if they got me.” He remarked depressingly.

“Virgil,” He said, tone changing, “I know you don’t believe it, but you are so much more than you make yourself out to be. If you truly don’t want to adopt, then that’s fine, but if the only thing holding you back is yourself, then just remember that these kids have been wanting a parent for years. I don’t think they’re very picky.” He told him, patting him on the back and standing back up, “See you later.”

Virgil grunted out a goodbye and listened as his friend walked away and went out the door before he dropped his face into his hands and let out a large exhale. He knew that Patton was right, as usual, but he just couldn’t bring himself to believe in his words. So Virgil conceded to his doubt and anxiety, but before he could spend too long on his train of self-pity, a sudden heavy weight fell into his lap, dangerously close painville. Virgil jolted upright and looked down to see what had just hit him, only to see a mason jar full of dirt and grass, accompanied by the strange boy from earlier.

“Here.” Remus said crawling up and sitting on the arm of the couch, resting his small head in Virgil’s lap next to the jar in what looked to be an uncomfortable position for the boy’s back, “You looked sad so I thought it would cheer you up.”

“Oh, uh, thank you?” Virgil said in puzzlement, not really sure how a jar of dirt was meant to cheer him up.

“Why are you sad? Did a trash goblin eat your family?” The boy asked, eyes twinkling with odd curiosity.

“No, that’s not it.”

“Did your favorite pair of pants catch fire?” He guessed again.

“No.”

“Did an octopus-”

“Remus,” Dexter’s stern voice cut off the boy, “Stop bothering Mr. Black and go finish your lunch before it gets cold.”

“Ugh! Fine snake man.” Remus groaned loudly, slumping off Virgil’s lap and walking away with his head hung back.

The two watched the boy walk off, one in amusement and the other in exasperation. Clearly, Dexter had to deal with this kind of behavior on the daily and had grown dulled to all of his strange oddities.

“Snake man?” Virgil asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a pun of my last name since it means snake.” The other man sighed, putting his, now ungloved, hands in his pants pockets, “You stayed.” He noted.

“I did,” Virgil agreed, not sure why he did, “Ah, he’s really… creative.”

“That is one way to put it.” He huffed, walking over to the armchair across from him and taking a seat.

“You mentioned earlier that there were some kids at school. Why isn’t he with them?”

“Well, Remus is a special case, he’s only allowed on campus three days a week.”

Virgil frowned at that and looked at where the boy had just exited. A kid his age shouldn’t be restricted from learning because of his personality.

“So… how many kids are here?” Virgil continues,

“Eleven currently, there used to be twelve, but Janice found a foster family three months ago.”

“How long have they been here?”

“It’s different for each kid. Our youngest, Stephen, has been here since he was four months old, although a family is looking into him and he may be leaving soon if the process goes well.” He explained, “Then you have Remus and his twin Roman. They’re almost twelve and have been here since they were two.”

“That’s a long time to be in the system.” Virgil breathed, pitying the boys. You never would have guessed that Remus’s life would have been so rough by how happy he always looked, he wondered how it was for the other twin he hadn’t met yet.

“Well not a lot of parents want twins, and as they grow older the chances of being chosen decrease. Then you have Remus to consider.” Dexter said matter-of-factly, his voice laced with sympathy.

He could tell that the guardian didn’t mean any spite towards the boy in his words, but he could also see the slightest hint of pain behind his eyes. Virgil wondered to himself what it must have been like to raise them for so long in an orphanage.

“He’s not so bad.” Virgil murmured hushedly, trying to somehow offer his condolences.

Dexter looked at him for a moment, almost as if he was analyzing him, then looked back off into space with a grin.

“You’d be the first visitor to think so.” He chuckled, Virgil joined him, smiling into his palms. “Where’s your partner, are you going to tell them that you aren’t ready yet?”

The question caught Virgil off guard as he hadn’t been expecting it at all. He guessed that it made sense for most who came here to married couples who couldn’t have children of their own, but the question just shoved the fact that he was still single back into his face.

“No partner to speak of.” Virgil grimaced with a sour face, leaning his elbows onto his knees, closing himself off.

“Really? I’m shocked you haven’t been swept off your feet yet.”

Now Virgil definitely hadn’t expected to hear that, especially from someone of Dexter’s league. There was no way the comment had been meant as a flirt, that was out of the question. It must have been a general statement, after all, it was pretty pathetic for a thirty-year-old to still be single and spending his birthday at an adoption agency.

“I mean, there have been a few guys, but you know how relationships go.”

“Only if they’re assholes. Clearly, you deserve better.” He said gesturing his hand up and down at him. “Bet you have to chase them off with sticks,” Dexter smirked, leaning his body against the arm of his chair and crossing his legs in a way that should be forbidden for mortal eyes to see.

“I- I’m not really, I wouldn’t say-”

Then, by a blessing sent from on high above them, a call from one of the kids in the next room came bursting in, stopping Virgil in his tracks before he could make too much of a fool of himself.

“Dee! Remus is putting olives in his nose again!”

In a flash, Dexter’s cool and collected gusto fell away and was replaced with experienced panic as he instantly jumps up from his armchair to the other room.

“Shit! Sorry I’ll be right back.” He called, backed turned and unable to see the melted puddle Virgil had been reduced to.

A fluke. Virgil told himself, holding his hand to his pounding heart. Surely that had been just a fluke, a joke at best. He didn’t mean anything by it.

Even so, Virgil was on the cusp of having a heart attack all because of one small comment. He had just given up on the possibility of any future relationship, he can’t back down just because one guy appears to be half decent and wildly attractive. Besides, they say the stronger the feelings are at the beginning of a relationship, the harder the fall is. Virgil was not about to set himself up for another disappointment. And, most of all, he didn’t want to be a disappointment.

Warning bells and alarms went off in his head to run, leave this place, and never return, but another, smaller, voice told him to stay. He had come here for the kids after all, and even if he wasn’t ready to adopt or foster, he should at least stay until the others returned from school.

Loud giggles and happy screams vibrated through the house from the other room, accompanied by the sound of a very frustrated Dexter. It drew Virgil out of his pessimistic thoughts with curiosity to what the boy had gotten himself into and brought him to follow after where Dexter and everyone had gone. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight he would see at the doorway. Remus sat on the kitchen counter, nose filled to the brim with olives, while Dexter pulled at the small fruit with tweezers. The whole scene looked both disgusting and hilarious, and Virgil had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing out loud.

It seemed as if this happened quite often because it took less than a minute for Dexter to remove them all and Remus was bouncing off the counter in no time. It also didn’t take long for the boy to notice him standing there and came bounding over.

“Racoon man!” He said happily, jumping into his stomach and almost topping them over with the force he came running at.

Raccoon man? I guess I get a nickname too.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Dexter said walking over, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Nah, it’s alright. We all did things when we were young.” Virgil laughed, patting Remus on the head. “Look, I know there isn’t really a reason for me to stay, but maybe I could hang out here for a bit more? Until the others get here, of course.”

A look of surprise flashed across the other man’s face but was quickly taken over by glee.

“Certainly.” He said, welcoming him further into the room with the kids.

The children didn’t get out of school until three, so Virgil had to wait a few hours to meet the four others, but during that time he got to spend it watching the toddlers play, which made the hours go by in minutes with how quickly exhausting it became. Six toddlers, that meant constant screaming, crying, and tantrums. Virgil was a full-grown, thirty-year-old man, yet these children made him want to crawl into a closet and cry. Dexter, on the other hand, handled everything like a champ and didn’t appear fazed at all. Once more Virgil wondered how on Earth the man managed to do everything alone.

Although they were rambunctious for a long while, they did eventually all quiet down after Dexter put on some mind-numbing children’s program and set out snacks in front of all of them. The only one it didn’t satisfy was Remus, who Dexter instead gave a tablet to play games on. Still, Virgil noticed that he would switch from game to game, quickly becoming bored off all of them before returning to an old one or going to a new one.

When the time finally did arrive for the kids to arrive back from school, Virgil was quickly introduced to them all. Virgil was able to tell instantly who Remus’s brother was the second he walked in as they looked exactly like each other. Obviously, because they’re twins.

Speeding through the introduction, while trying not to look like an inconsiderate ass, Virgil went over Roman and knelt in front of him.

“Sup little dude, what’s your name?” He asked,

“I am Prince Roman Agustus Sanchez of the Stork Household. State your name, peasant.” The boy declared flamboyantly with pride, shocking Virgil with the amount of arrogance of such a small child.

Not only do they look alike, but they also act alike too.

“Roman,” Dexter said warningly, giving the boy a hard look.

“What’s your name… mister?” The boy tried again in a bored voice, head hung low. Virgil frowned slightly at this, he didn’t want him to be a little dick, but he also didn’t want him not to lose his passionate spark, so he tried to speak to him on his level.

“I am Virgil Black, Lord of the Bushnell Library,” Virgil said, with a wide, and slightly sarcastic, bow. Roman perked up at this, no longer looking so glum.

“A lord is lower than a prince, you know that right?” Roman asked him, eyebrow raised.

“Well, I’m not anything special,” Virgil uttered, ignoring the usual sting that always came with how he spoke about himself.

It’s not like I am all that great anyway.

“Okay, enough hanging out in the doorway, how about we all head out to the backyard.” Deceit clapped loudly, shooing the children out down the back hall. The children all filed out, running and shoving, while the twins walked together behind the rest.

Over the course of the day, and even just watching them right now, Virgil noticed that the two didn’t fit in well with the rest of them. Remus got along well with the toddlers because he himself acted like one, but there was still something about him that kept him away from others. Roman, on the other hand, he barely knew, but he could see the stubborn pride the boy had and how he preferred to stick close to his brother. Considering their circumstances of being raised here since such a young age, it was likely they felt like they had no one else but each other.

“They’re good kids,” Virgil commented, watching the two brothers leave.

“I know, all too well.” Dexter agreed, watching them as well. Virgil couldn't help but notice how much of a father he looked like to them rather than a legal guardian, but before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed in his pants. Virgil pulled it out and sighed, realizing that he had the closing shift at the library today. “I guess you have to be going then?”

“Yeah, work. It was, uh, nice to meet you, Mr. Serpente.”

“Dexter,” He corrected, extending a hand forth with a smile, “It was a pleasure.”

Virgil shook his hand, again amazed by how his grip could be so firm, yet so gentle at the same time. Waving goodbye to him, Virgil walked out the door and down the steps. It was strange, he had known them for only a day, yet Virgil felt like he’d miss them, both the twins and Dexter.

An idea then popped into his head as he walked down the concrete path and he quickly turned around and headed back into the house and through to the backyard where Dexter sat on the grass, watching the kids play, his head snapping up at him as he appeared beside him.

“Actually, you wouldn’t mind if I stopped by next week, would you?”

Dexter’s grin grew wider, and Virgil had to beat away at his feelings with a mental stick to not melt at how adorable it was.

“No, not at all.”

One nice thing about working at the public library was that he didn’t have to wake up at six to head to some crappy minimum wage job, instead, he got to wake up at seven to go to a decent, slightly above minimum wage, job. It wasn’t all bad though, he got to read basically any book he wanted to on his breaks or play games on the computers, although that was more of a secret exploit. Plus, with the rise of technology, the internet, and ebooks, Virgil didn’t actually have to deal with that many people than in comparison to his shitty retail and fast food job from back when he was in college. What was even better was the fact that the library closed at eight every day, which meant he never had to work an overnight shift. Although, it did get boring while he was actually on the job.

Presently, Virgil was tasked with restocking the shelves with the returned books. It was dull and boring, but listening to his typical emo bands through his earbuds help it not be so dreadful. The emo subculture may have died out when he was in high school, but Virgil was too far gone to ever make a change. His wardrobe was so full of black that it was literally impossible for him to wear anything else, except for a few purple items here and there. The library also didn’t require uniforms, although it did have a dress code, so he got to look like a depressing ball of angst as much as he wanted.

A few hours passed by the time he put the last book back into place and returned the cart to the staff room. His task now complete, Virgil looked for something else to do so that he would at least look like a good employee. Megan was currently reading to the children, so that section was taken care of; the computers were being overseen by Jack; Luke and Rosario were on the floor helping visitors; and Logan was handling the front desk, where a line was beginning to form. Quickly, Virgil headed over to one of the tellers and opened up a second line to ease both Logan’s load and the customer's frustration.

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan said gratefully, checking out the third book from the massive pile he had been handed.

“No prob, bob,” Virgil said back, taking the book from the customer's stretched out hand.

Virgil continued to work alongside Logan until his break arrived and he switched spots with Lillian. Logan took his break along with him and they headed back to the staff room to grab their lunches. Ripping off the lid from his Tupperware Virgil put his container of noodles in the microwave and warmed up last night’s dinner. Logan, on the other hand, had a perfect lunch prepared with all the necessary dietary nutrients the average man needed to stay healthy, at least according to him.

The microwave shouted loudly to announce that his food was now heated and warmed. Virgil opened up the plastic door and took out his food, grabbed his chopsticks, and sat down to eat. It was a simple meal, but it was enough. The two friends sat and ate in silence for a period of time and Virgil was content with leaving it like that, but Logan for some reason decided to change it.

“So, how have your endeavors been with the childcare agency?” He asked, nibbling on a piece of steamed zucchini.

“Good, we’re throwing a goodbye party for little Stephen. His new family just finalized the necessary documents to adopt him.” Virgil answered passively.

“Oh? Good for him.”

“Yeah…”

In truth, it wasn’t much of a party since Stephen was only one and a half and couldn't remember anything. The other children at the house were all going to gift him with hand made cards and then they’d all have a cake bought from the store, which Virgil offered to pick up since both Patton and Dexter would be too busy with decorations and watching the kids.

Dexter had told him when they first met two months ago that Stephen was only four months old when he had arrived, so he had been there for about a year. It was a long time to be without parents any parents, but also no time at all in comparison to some of the others, especially the twins, who have been there for over ten years. Stephen was truly lucky to be getting out so soon and at such a young age.

The conversation ended there, as did their meals. Logan headed back first, while Virgil remained at the table for a few minutes more, wanting to enjoy his break as long as he could. When he finally did return to work, it was filled with that same dull drone as it always was that lasted for hours until his shift ended. But thankfully, he didn’t have the closing shift today.

Virgil went as fast as he could from the library to the grocery store to pick up the cake he had ordered a day in advance. It was a simple confetti cake with strawberry frosting that read ‘Congratulations, Stephen!’ Cake acquired, Virgil drove straight for the little run-down house to help out with the party.

For the past eight weeks, Virgil went to the Stork house at least twice a week, oftentimes just to hang out with the kids. Apparently, they weren’t allowed out of the hours except under supervision by standard order of the government agency that managed them, and since Dexter was often too busy to take them out beyond the backyard, Virgil figured that they would at least want someone to hang out with every once in a while.

As it turned out, Dexter only had one employee, an elderly woman named Alice who managed most of the financial and legal documents that Dexter didn’t have time to look over and take care of. According to Patton, the agency only received the bare minimum to take care of the kids and pay basic bills, Dexter didn’t make enough to hire any extra hands. He had been getting by from the help of Patton and two other volunteers who all came by on separate days throughout the week. That led to another incentive for Virgil to come for visits, not for any special reason or treatment towards the man, but just because he felt Dexter deserved to rest every once in a while.

Arriving at the house, Virgil pulled over to the curb and quickly checked his reflection in the mirror, but only because it was a special occasion, not because of who he would be seeing. Quickly fixing his hair and eyeshadow, making sure he didn’t put on too much, Virgil hopped out of his car, switched out of his work coat and into his patchwork hoodie, and headed for the front door, cake in hand.

Walking up to the door, he rang the doorbell and called out to be let in, “Patton? Dexter?”

Following his call, the sound of several small footsteps could be heard from behind the door and soon it was opened to reveal two of the younger kids, Christine and Mark, ages seven and five respectively.

“Virgil!” They cheered when they saw him, running up and wrapping their arms around his waist. Virgil laughed and gave them a one-armed hug back.

“Hey Christine, Mark, have you guys seen Dexter?” He questioned, following them inside, closing the door behind them.

“He’s standing right here.” Dexter’s voice came ahead of him. Virgil looked up and noticed that Dexter was standing in the mouth of the hallway watching him, dressed in one of his usual button-up shirts and black slacks. Virgil then wished he had worn something a bit nicer than ripped jeans.

“Dexter! I-I didn’t see you there.” Virgil said, standing up from his hug with the kids, “I brought the cake.”

“Wonderful, let’s set it up in the kitchen.” Dexter smiled, taking the cake from his hands and leading the way to the kitchen down the hall. Virgil followed close after, bringing Christine and Mark with him, but sent them on their way to the back room where he could see some of the other children were.

“How’s everything been going?” Virgil asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“With the party or just in general?” Dexter asked, setting the cake on the kitchen counter next to a large bowl full of popcorn, and another filled with chips.

“Uhm, both I guess,” He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets.

Dexter watched him through the corner of his eye before replying, “Everything is almost ready, the kids are spread out making their cards. I invited Stephen’s new parents to come to join us, so they’ll be here in a little while.” Rummaging through one of the cabinet doors, he pulled out a packet of small paper plates and plastic forks, and placed them on the counter, “Would you mind setting the table?”

“Yeah, of course,”

“Oh, and Virgil?” Dexter spoke again, stopping Virgil in his steps, “I like your outfit today.” Dexter winked, grabbing the two bowls of junk food and walking out of the kitchen to the backroom.

A ship could have been led through the darkest night with how brightly Virgil flushed at his comment. His knees nearly gave out beneath him and Virgil swore that he was on the brink of passing out from embarrassment.

He’s just joking, it doesn’t mean anything.

It wasn’t the first time Dexter had told him something like that, and he secretly wished it wouldn’t be the last. Despite it all being just a silly joke, Virgil hadn’t been complimented like that in a long time, not since Matthew.

Virgil quickly shook that thought out of his head and recollected himself before grabbing the plates and utensils, heading to the connected dining area to set the table.

The way the floorplan of the house was set up, the kitchen dining area, and the backroom were all connected without a door in an L-shape. This meant that Virgil was able to see Dexter as he worked. He did his best to keep his eyes on his task and not let them stray, but his eyes would often betray him and drift towards the caretaker, who sat with seven kids surrounding him, trying to keep them calm and entertained as they worked on their cards. Virgil couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at how domestic it all looked.

“Hey, Virge?” Patton called behind him, walking in from the hallway.

“Yeah?” Virgil responded walking over to him, noticing how Dexter’s eyes seemed to follow him and tried to play it off as if he didn’t.

“Everything is ready, but no one knows where Remus is. Could you check in the boys’ room?” Patton asked cradling little Stephen in his arms, patting his back as the child drank from a bottle.

“Sure thing,” Virgil nodded, giving two thumbs up as he pushed passed him and headed up the stairs to the boys’ room. Honestly, he was happy to get out of that room and be given a chance to calm his heartbeat.

Seriously, it’s pointless, I shouldn’t even think about him that way. It won’t lead anywhere.

Walking up the short staircase, Virgil went to the first door on the right where the twins and two other boys all shared a room. It was small and cramped, containing two sets of bunk beds and two dressers, leaving very little room for anything else. It only took a quick look to spot Remus sitting in the corner behind one of the beds. As he crept closer, the sight of him cutting shapes out of pieces of paper came into view.

“Hey, Remus. You okay?” The young boy shrugged his shoulders, cutting out the shape of an octopus, “Do you want to talk about it?”

The boy didn’t answer for a moment but ceased in his paper cutting, then answered, “I don’t wanna go to the party.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t want to scare Stephen’s new parents away,” Remus confessed crossing his arms over his knees and tucking into himself.

“You think they’d be afraid of you?” He asked in a mix of confusion and saddened shock.

“They all are. It’s why Roman and I haven’t been adopted, I chase them all away.” He cried, eyes tearing up.

Within the time that he had been there, Virgil had never seen the boy look anything but happy, with a rare bout of childish rage, it looked unnatural for him to be so sad. Virgil had wondered if the boy had been affected by his situation, but he hadn’t realized it had hurt him so deeply to the point of believing he was the reason he and Roman hadn’t been adopted.

Gently, Virgil sat down next to the boy and pulled him into a loose side hug, leaving him room to push him away if he wanted. Remus quickly leaned into him and tucked his head into Virgil’s shoulder, staining it with snot and tears, not that he minded.

“That’s just because they don’t know you, Remus. It’s easy to judge someone, but harder to know them. Someone will come along, you’ll see.” Virgil promise, running a hand through his messy hair.

Remus looked up at him and wiped his eyes, sniffing, “You really think so?”

“I do, I like you, and someone else will too.” Virgil smiled, standing them both up, “Now, come on, let’s give baby Stephen a happy goodbye.”

“Okay! Do you think he’ll like my card?” Remus asked, showing him the card he had been working on. It read ‘Hapy New Perents Day’ with little pictures of octopuses, dolphins, and unicorns. The spelling concerned him though, he wished that the school would let him go for more than just three days a week. But perhaps he could bring books to Remus from the library to help him.

“I’m sure he will,” Virgil told him, taking his hand and leading him out and down the stairs.

For now, the spelling won’t matter, Stephen is only one year old after all.

The party had begun downstairs and the new parents were in the backroom sitting on the couch with their new son in their arms. The children each took turns handing the couple the cards since Stephen couldn’t read them, and Remus quickly ran from his side to go join them.

“It seems like Remus has grown pretty attached to you,” Dexter noted walking up to him. “He really likes you.”

“He’s a sweet kid when you look past his eccentricities, he’ll make a family happy one day,” Virgil responded, watching as said boy began poking at the air around Roman, not actually touching him, but irritating his brother nonetheless.

“You truly believe that?” Dexter asked, voice becoming earnest.

“Don’t you?” Virgil shot back, wondering why he would ask such a thing.

“It’s not that I don’t, it’s just,” He paused, looking into his eyes as if he were searching for something in them, “You continue to surprise me, Virgil Black.”

Virgil blushed again, suddenly realizing just how close they were, and took a step away, clearing his throat. Dexter did the same and let the conversation drop. The air became awkward around them, and yet, it felt nice to stand next to him.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispered, wondering if he was even heard.

“Of course,” Dexter responded, and then left to greet the parents along with Patton. Virgil watched him from a distance, thinking that’s where he belonged.

Over the course of his life, he had been the downfall of so many relationships, went through so much heartache, until he eventually gave up hope of ever finding someone to love who would love him back. Yet, despite all that pain and regret, he found himself again wishing for another chance, but unwilling to risk another fracture to his broken heart. Each time he came here he left wanting to never come back so he could move on and not keep feeding his ridiculous fantasy, but he always came back for two major reasons. The twins, Roman and Remus, who had been without parents their entire lives, who he’s grown attached to; and also the owner of the house and caretaker of the twins, who threatened to squeeze his way into Virgil’s guarded heart every time he saw him.

Virgil had really driven himself into a corner this time and wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get out of it intact.

@omikkydraws @stormypain-t I’m tagging you since you both commented on my ask post earlier

#sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides fic #ts fic #my fic #anxceit #anceit #logicality #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #adoption au

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siriuslycollins-blog · 5 years

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Parenting 101 For Rockstar Dads

CH. 3- The One Where Everything Is Not Okay Pt 1

Warnings: medical malpractice, child birth, loss of blood, and death

Nessa’s pregnancy wore on throughout the fall and into the winter and spring. Jared and Nessa were having a girl and they had settled on the name Kaela, Kaela Dominique Leto; a lot had changed from the time of the pregnancy announcement such as Jared and Nessa turning the second bedroom of their apartment they used for storage into a nursery, Jared’s older brother Shannon crashing on their couch and Nessa being officially on maternity leave from school and work. She hated it, and with Jared and Shannon at work, she was absolutely bored. With summer in full swing, it was way too hot to do anything, and Nessa had very little energy. Her days consisted (sometimes) making breakfast for herself, Jared and Shannon, watching soap operas as she painted or knitted, fetching the mail, and concluding the day with a treat from the ice cream truck.

Jackie would come by after work or practice to keep her company until the guys came home. One Monday evening, she had stopped by after dance practice while Jared and Shannon were out at the laundromat. “Oh Nessa, I swear on everything I love, I’ll beat the fuck out of Lisa Russell! She gettin’ on my last damn nerve,” Jackie vented. When Nessa announced her pregnancy to the SUSLA dance team, her backup, Lisa had taken her place. It should’ve been a surprise that Lisa had even made the team in the first place, seeing as she couldn’t dance for shit, but she had rich parents, so it wasn’t really.

“The other girls are threatening to quit the team until you come back.” Nessa listened as her best friend cursed Lisa to the high heaven, never once losing steam until Shannon walked in carrying his laundry basket. The two of them were definitely checking each other out, until Jared bumped into him. “Dude, you gotta move. These mosquitos are eating me alive.” Ever since Shannon moved in, Jackie always hung around longer than necessary, and they were getting especially close.

Nessa liked the idea of Kaela’s godmother and uncle growing closer, but Jackie has a boyfriend who is absolutely wonderful, and for that reason, she only hoped that they were only getting to know each other because of the baby. Shannon plopped down in between them and threw an arm around Jackie’s side of the couch. “That’s cool, it’s not like I’m carrying your niece or anything.” They completely ignored her as they launched into their conversation; no matter how many times Jared and Nessa tried to include themselves in the conversation, Shannon and Jackie always managed to drift back to their own world. Jackie ended up staying for dinner, and the only time she and Shannon stopped talking was when either of them took a bite of their pizza.

“So Jackie, how’s Will doin’?” Nessa asked; she briefly wondered if her friend forgot that she even had a boyfriend. “Oh! Uh... he’s okay. Just really busy with summer practices so I haven’t been seeing him much lately.” Nessa saw the disappointed look on Shannon’s face but he still asked, “who’s Will?” “Just a guy she’s been seeing for a while.” He didn’t say anything after that, and the rest of dinner was quiet and a bit awkward.

Jackie let at almost eight o’clock, saying she had to get up early, which was a lie, and even after she left Shannon was still quiet. “Shan, are you okay?” Jared asked his brother carefully. “What? Yeah, I’ll be fine, I’m just tired. I just want to go to bed. Had a long day.” Nessa and Jared went in the back to their bedroom and got ready for bed. “See Jared! I told you he has a thing for her! And she definitely likes him too!”

“Nessa baby, we’ve been through this. Shan and Jackie are going to be Kaela’s godparents. Of course they’re getting close.” Nessa only rolled her eyes as she put her hair up and put on her bonnet. “You saw how upset he was when I brought up Will.” She wasn’t even sure if Jackie even liked Will the way he liked her as she always seemed annoyed by him. “Let’s just go to sleep. You have your last doctor’s appointment before Kaela comes, first thing in the morning.”

Nessa still couldn’t believe that she was going to be a mom, that she was going to bring a child into the world with the love of her life; absolutely mind boggling. Everything was ready for her, the crib assembled and filled with stuffed animals and other things she might need, and a closet filled with pink outfits. She went into labor on July 13th, at 5:30 am which threw Jared and Shannon into a frenzy. They were both running around like chickens with their heads cut off as they made last minute plans; Shannon grabbing the hospital bag and putting in more things that might be needed and starting the car while Jared called everyone he knew. Turns out that Kaela was a very impatient baby, and by the time they made it to the hospital, Nessa was just about ready to push.

Finally, at 7:30 a.m. Kaela Dominique Leto made her grand entrance, weighing in at four pounds even. She had brown skin, a head of dark curls and the biggest brown eyes Jared had ever seen, and for the second time in his life, he fell in love. The placenta was delivered soon after, and that’s when everything went to hell. Nessa’s regular doctor was out of town due to a family emergency, so her replacement was a balding white man in fifties who brushed off Nessa’s concerns about bleeding after delivering the placenta. “Don’t worry Miss Arceneaux, the bleeding will stop soon.” The doctor had the nurses put some gauze to stop the blood flow but Nessa was losing her color and energy, fast. Jared was getting pissed; clearly there was something wrong with his girlfriend. Why wasn’t the doctor taking this seriously?

“Dr. Archibald, there is something wrong with her! Do something!” By this time Constance and Jackie had made it to the room, only to see Shannon holding Jared back as he was yelling at the doctor with Nessa running a finger over Kaela’s soft cheek; neither women had ever seen Nessa look like this. Of course it was normal to not look your best after giving birth, but it looked like someone had dimmed the lights from within. Nessa gave them a weak smile and they slowly walked over to her. Shannon had escorted Jared and Dr. Archibald into the hall, closing the door so the women wouldn’t have to hear it.

“Nessa, she’s absolutely beautiful,” Constance whispered. She couldn’t believe that she was a grandmother, but here she was, holding her new granddaughter Kaela. Surely this had to be a dream; she and Jackie took turns holding the baby, and it was a while before Shannon and Jared came back. They had plastic bags of food and they sat them down on the rolling table. “Nessa baby, you need to eat something, get your strength back up,” Jared told her.

Eating seemed to do something good for her, and her blood pressure seemed to return to normal after drinking a few ounces of orange juice. Nessa’s family came later in the day to fawn over the baby while Jared went to see about a birth certificate; when he came back, his eyes were red, he looked tired and a piece of paper in his hand. Jared looked over and saw his daughter in one of those makeshift cribs, sleeping peacefully. “Jay, why are you crying? Everything is fine. I’m okay,” Nessa assured him. He wiped the remaining tears away with the back of his hand and began kissing her face.

“I thought I almost lost you Nessa. It was horrible.” Jared was shaken to his core, and the thought of losing the love of his life scared the shit out of him; he wanted to live out the rest of his life with her. Which reminded him... he still had the ring in his pocket, a ring he’s had for months. Of course the two had never talked about marriage, Jared had been too chicken to bring it up, but now that their daughter was here, now was a perfect time. “You’re not gonna lose me Jay.”

Jared felt like crying again, but his eyes were sore and he didn’t know if he could produce more tears; he felt like he’d done enough crying to last him twenty years. “Nessa, it was bad, and that doctor, I wanted to fucking punch him.” He could feel his throat close up again, and he focused on Shannon holding Kaela, with Jackie begging for a turn again. “It’s my turn Shannon. You’ve had her for ten minutes already.” Constance, Jared and Nessa had to step in to get the two to stop bickering.

“Come on you two, knock it off! She’s only three hours old and these are not the first sounds she should be hearing!” Constance’s tone was enough to make Shannon be quiet after Jackie called him a name. “Shan, Jackie’s right, you’ve had your turn. Give the baby to her.” He settled his niece in Jackie’s arms who had the biggest smile on her face. A few hours later, everyone had to go back to work, except for Jared who had some time off, so now he and Nessa finally had time to themselves to admire their daughter alone.

The new parents couldn’t believe that their baby was real, they were actually looking at her, and yet it still felt like they could wake up at any moment. Kaela was, without a doubt the most perfect baby in the world; as Jared watched over his sleeping daughter, he felt a flash of anger. Here he is, holding this miracle he helped create, the thought of leaving her behind too painful to even fathom, and yet Tony Bryant had no problem leaving his two boys behind. He looked over at Nessa, who was staring at him holding Kaela. She looked tired, tired but happy, and Jared knew that now was the perfect time to ask her to spend the res of her life with him.

“Nessa, I love you so much, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I won’t question it.” He sat Kaela back down in her cradle thing so he could get the ring from his pocket, and when Nessa realized what he was doing, she gasped. “Jared, are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Jared didn’t answer her, instead getting down on one knee at the side of her bed. “Vanessa Dominique Arceneaux, will you marry me?”

Nessa had a smile on her face, the kind of smile that reached the eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you! I love you so much!” Jared slipped the ring on her finger, and they kissed as Kaela made some noises in her cradle. “Yes, pretty girl, your momma and daddy are getting married,” Jared cooed at the newborn. Jared didn’t expect that their celebration would abruptly end.

Nessa died two days later in her sleep sometime in the early morning. Jared was awoken by the heart monitor flatlining, thinking it was his alarm clock back home before he remembered where he was. It was dark in the room, the curtains drawn and the only light in the room was the monitor and the little sliver of golden light under the door coming from hall. Jared leaped from the couch and into the hallway. “Nurse, nurse! I need a nurse!” The monitor had to be wrong, she was only sleeping...

Doctors and nurses began to rush into the room and Jared was quickly jostled about as they tried to get to her; it took two security guards and a male nurse to calm him down, to assure him that they were doing everything they could to revive her. He was dragged into the waiting area kicking and screaming and crying. He tried to take his mind off what was happening by pacing the floor, listening to the early morning news, but none of that was helping. It was another fifteen minutes before a nurse came into the waiting area to tell him the news, but she didn’t need to, he could see it on her face.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Leto. We tried everything we could. There was one time where we tried the paddles and it worked, but only for a second.” Jared could feel the hot tears streaming down his face and he dropped back into a chair, bending over and grabbing his head, then rocking back and forth. He knew that he should go back in and say goodbye to Nessa but he couldn’t, it would be too real, but his feet moved on their own accord. There she was, his new fiancée lying on her back, eyes closed as if she was sleeping peacefully. Jared grabbed the hand he put the ring on, squeezing it and he just cried.

taglist: @llfd1977 @blackreaders-assemble @itsmeauntie

#parenting 101 for rockstar dads #jared leto x daughter

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gunnerychief · 5 years

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𝙵𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚂 .

RULES: List five tropes applicable to your character, then tag others to do the same. (Tropes Wiki) REPOST! DO NOT REBLOG.

Tagged by: me . Tagging: @vasilievna @turianrebel @sraen @deifect @worldagainst + anyone that wants to ^_^

ACTION GIRL :

An Action Girl is a female badass who is tough and kicks butt. Damsel in Distress? Not her. She's featured in far more than the Designated Girl Fight. She faces dangerous foes and deadly obstacles, and she wins.

DETERMINATOR :

A character — good or evil, male or female, young or old — who never gives up. Ever. No matter what. There is no stopping the Determinator. They do not understand tact. They do not Know When to Fold ‘Em, and it’s a waste of time to tell them the odds. No one can reason with them. They’ll do whatever they have to without question. No price is too great to pay for success, up to and including their own life. Do not expect them to realize they might be better off letting it go, even if they can barely stand. If you’re ever kidnapped or lost with no hope of rescue, they’ll be the one who will find you. Their adversaries will shout, in exasperated rage,“Why Won’t You Die?!”. For them, there is no line between “perseverance” and “insanity.”

PRAGMATIC HERO :

A Pragmatic Hero lacks the "moral cleanliness" of an Ideal Hero. When fighting evil, they often commit acts that might seem more characteristic of a villain than a hero. However, Pragmatic Heroes have morally good intentions and often hold themselves to strict moral standards—it's just that those standards aren't always what others might expect from a hero. This type of hero tends to be much more concerned with whatever heroic business the plotline has assigned them than the niceties of proper heroic etiquette. However, with the exception of unintentional mistakes, they will rarely if ever commit a villainous deed that doesn't further the cause of good in a way

BADASS NORMAL :

In a world with supernatural dealings or superpowers, this character is the one who is able to keep being useful through intellect, martial arts abilities, general ruthlessness, or just being Crazy-Prepared. They notably have none of the fantastic enhancements, magic, or special powers that others do. It might even be a sore point for them, but that just makes us encourage them more. Female versions are usually Action Girls with a Girl Posse or Lovely Angels.

RELIGIOUS BRUISER :

What distinguishes this trope from Church Militant and Badass Preacher is the emphasis. A Religious Bruiser may or may not kick ass, but if he does, it’s his primary occupation. For the Badass Preacher, ass-kicking is secondary to his vocation (or if Church Militant is at play, ass-kicking is his vocation). This is also partially an audience or character reaction trope. With theBadass Preacher, characters will be surprised to learn that the man in the white collar can kick ass. With the Religious Bruiser, the characters will be surprised that the man who kicks ass wears the white collar from time to time.

BRUISER WITH A SOFT CENTER :

The big, burly, super macho guy who is nothing but a stack of muscles is pretty much a brick, right? Not so much. True love or a sweet, touching moment reveals what a big softy he really is under all that hard muscle. Hands that can smash through walls effortlessly now rise to hide the Tender Tears, or remain stoically at his sides as he weeps Manly Tears. Thugs will limp away nursing cuts and bruises from his mighty fists. Children and small cuddly animals will simply treat his great ham hands like cozy furniture to snuggle up in. Enemies will flee from his mighty roar or battle cry. But he will sit still and quiet if a kitten curls up on his chest purring, and he'll let her stay as long as she pleases.

KNIGHT IN SOUR ARMOR :

The world is filled with Wide Eyed Idealists who believe in truth and justice and devote their lives to fighting for it. And then the dark, cruel and brutal world keeps letting them down. For them, Being Good Sucks. But rather than giving up on their goals, they choose to fight not because they believe they will truly make a difference, but because it's the right thing to do.

ONE WOMAN ARMY.

Sometimes The Hero (or The Big Guy in their team) will face a large horde of Mooks and tell their leader he's going down. The leader will often say, "You and What Army?", then discover that the hero doesn't need one. This one man can go around and kill thousands of enemies. The One Man Army does far more than pull his own weight. Villains tend to underestimate this person at first, considering him Just One Man. They are quickly proven wrong. This is often justified by making the character a Super Soldier against mundanes, possessing far superior weaponry, or otherwise tremendously advantaged.

SOLE SURVIVOR :

It could happen in a lot of ways. Your family picnic is gunned down by The Mafia. Your platoon is ordered to do something suicidal by General Ripper. Your ship goes down. Your Doomed Hometown has a volcano erupt on it. You were Playing Possum when wounded. You were knocked unconscious during the Last Stand. You were the lucky duck who did not find the Applied Phlebotinum lethal. You were sent to Bring News Back. You were ordered to perform some errand, often stunningly trivial, which left you off-base when the surprise attack overwhelmed it. But somehow you alone survive this horrible event. You've become a Sole Survivor. This is the eventual outcome of a Dwindling Party. It can lead to Survivor Guilt or a Roaring Rampage of Revenge. A Sole Survivor may become a Zen Survivor or Shellshocked Veteran.

COOL BIG SIS :

If your show is aimed at a younger audience, this young woman (usually in her mid to late teens, sometimes in her early 20s) will be older than the Shorttank and be the girl everyone thinks is hot (if they're nice) or an Alpha Bitch (if they're not), though their personalities can vary widely from Tsundere to Emotionless Girl to Tomboy. The Shorttank girls often admire them, even when they playfully flirt with the much younger male lead and steal everyone's attention. The Shrinking Violet will admire and at the same time envy how more open her Big Sister figure is with her thoughts and feelings.

CULTURED WARRIOR :

Many soldiers in fiction are rough, abrasive grunts who wouldn't know a work of poetry if it hit them during an artillery barrage. The Cultured Warrior is somewhat different. He (it's usually a he; if it's a she, she's usually also a Lady of War) knows his history and culture. He'll happily quote Byron or Keats during a battle. Often a Blue Blood, he likes fine wines and opera music, and may have gone to a Boarding School. Oftentimes, they simply believe that things like culture are what they are fighting for; without the fine things in life, there is nothing but more war to look forward to. It does not need to be evident at first. This is a common form of Hidden Depths.

#tbt .#study .#long post /#i really dug this out of my old accs ... a favorite

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profound-boning · 6 years

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Holding Back From You

prompt: thrisha’s post pairings: destiel word count: 2k tags: no warnings apply, implied sexual content, dean’s appallingly low self-esteem, perceived infidelity, friends with benefits to boyfriends only on tumblr | dwlts

When Dean woke up in Cas’s bed with a naked Cas lying next to him and a familiar ache, he’d known right away that the night before had ended with some very athletic drunk sex.

When Cas woke up and treated him to round two, he hadn’t bothered to ask questions. Why would he when he could finally have Cas exactly like he’d always wanted?

Finally, when Cas rolled off of him and stumbled to the bathroom, Dean’s upstairs brain tuned back in.

Hey, dumbass, it said, don’t you think it’s actually a really terrible idea to have sex with your roommate and your best friend?

Why yes, brain, that does sound like a bad idea. Except that that was the best sex he’s ever had in addition to Cas being the best person Dean has ever known. Okay, so Cas is a bit of a slob and he’s so quirky sometimes and he’s a runner, which is just weird, but he’s a good guy. Would climb a tree to save a cat or drop his own bags to help an elderly lady carry hers. And Dean really wants to keep having sex with him.

So Dean doesn’t question their new arrangement. They haven’t really discussed it since that first day when a freshly-showered Cas flopped down on the couch next to Dean and asked him how he felt about spanking.

This led to an in-depth discussion of boundaries and what exactly they wanted from each other in the bedroom. Which is all well and good, except that it makes their sexy time a bedroom-only activity and now Dean is having some serious feelings-related issues outside of the aforementioned bedroom.

Granted, these issues aren’t precisely new. Dean has been wrestling internally with telling Cas that he’s halfway in love with him for a solid two years now, but when Dean fucks it up is he going to lose his roommate and his best friend, too? On the other hand, is he going to spend the rest of his life pining over Castiel Novak? That’s a firm maybe at this point. So, no, feelings-related issues aren’t new.

There is something that is new, however, and that is the dark hickey Dean has just spotted on Cas’s hip bone and the fact that Dean is currently losing his goddamn mind over it.

It’s just a hickey, right? Nothing too horrible. The problem is that Dean knows for a fact he didn’t put it there—not that Dean doesn’t love Cas’s hips, but it’s not exactly a spot he’s inclined to leave a hickey—so that means that someone else put it there and Dean’s going to be sick.

He ends up going to the bathroom, actually, but he doesn’t throw up. Instead, he leans his arms against the counter and takes deep breaths. Then, he flushes the toilet and splashes a little water on his face. He looks at himself in the mirror.

This is fine, he lies, you’re fine. It’s not a big deal that Cas is getting some on the side. It’s not like he made you some vow of fidelity. Why would he? A good roll in the hay and a half-decent roommate and that’s all. You’re not good for anything else and Cas would be certifiably crazy to think otherwise.

After that rousing pep talk, Dean goes back to the kitchen and avoids looking at Cas as much as he can.

He’s not very successful, mind you, but he tries.

He does insist that Cas puts a shirt on if he wants to cook, which is a small victory. Cas is craving scrambled eggs but he’s not so good at watching the pan so Dean takes over after a little while and they both end up with a nice plate of egg. Cas likes ketchup with his while Dean just uses a bit of salt and pepper. Cas talks at length about his stupid thesis and his stupid undergrads and he hooks his ankle around Dean’s under the table, and Dean tries to remember to breathe.

After suffering through breakfast, Dean plops himself down on the couch with the intent to spend the entire day on Netflix. Maybe he’ll take a break to hit the grocery store and grab some more junk food. And whiskey. Maybe tequila, too.

But Cas ends up deciding to stay home rather than hole up in the library, which means nature documentaries and talking about the universe. It’s the sort of thing that Dean loves to do with Cas on a normal day, but today is not a normal day.

Today, Cas is wearing a physical reminder that Dean is not anyone special, that Cas is bright and handsome and so damn good in bed it’s a small wonder there haven’t been any indicators before this. Seriously, Cas has probably been hooking up with some other friends of his this whole time.

Maybe they’re not even his other friends, Dean thinks with growing horror. What if Cas is dating someone? What if there’s someone that Cas takes out to restaurants and the movies, someone whose hand he holds when they talk together in little cafes, when they go to art museums and concerts together? What if Dean is Cas’s dirty little secret?

Frankly, he wouldn’t be surprised. But it still fucking hurts to consider the possibility.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so upset about it. Really, if they’re not doing enough to keep Cas satisfied, then what else can Dean do but reap the benefits? Surely, if Cas had a problem, he wouldn’t have turned to Dean that morning with a devilish smirk and wrapped a hand around his morning wood. He’d been so comfortable and into it. So, if Cas wants Dean, even just on the side, then why would Dean fight that? He should be grateful to get anything from Cas, not questioning it.

He’s so distracted by his internal crisis that he doesn’t notice Cas has stopped watching the movie to watch him. Then, Cas leaves over and presses pause on Raiders of the Lost Ark.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

Cas huffs a small laugh. “What’s up with you?” Dean shifts uncomfortably.

“Nothing, man. Why, what’s up with you?” He turns to look at Cas, who squints at him.

“Don’t pull that with me,” he says. “I know when something’s wrong with you. You’re easy to figure out.”

Or just easy, Dean thinks miserably, his mind still conjuring images of Cas’s picture perfect partner and how confused and devastated they would feel to find out that Cas sleeps with him sometimes. Fairly often, actually, he thinks with a sort of smugness mixed with guilt. Jesus, he needs to get a grip.

“Cas, I’m fine,” he insists. “Can we just get back to the movie already?” Cas looks deeply unimpressed with his avoidance, lips pursed and brow furrowed as if he can glare hard enough to see inside Dean’s head. Dean really hopes that that isn’t possible otherwise he’d be fucked, and not in the fun way.

But he relents and clicks play, allowing them both to settle into silence once more. It’s not a comfortable one, though, it’s tense with nervous energy and a sort of inexplicable sadness.

Dean thinks he’s going to die when Cas needs to stretch, raising his arms up over his head and arching his back with a little groan. The action pulls up his t-shirt to reveal his belly button and hips, that fucking hickey staring Dean right in the face. He swallows harshly.

Eventually, the movie ends, and they transition to watching bad television. Cas gets out his phone to play games while Dean flips through the channels. It’s comfortable, except that Dean cannot keep his mind off of whoever had their mouth on Cas’s body.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, but it does. Their arrangement wasn’t meant to last, Dean knows that logically, but he’s nevertheless hoped that maybe one of those orgasms would open Cas’s eyes to the possibility of something else, something with more romance than he’d ever admit to desiring.

Things come to a head at dinnertime, with Cas standing by the fridge and holding a jar of tomato sauce in his hand and frowning at it like it’s withholding the secrets of the universe. And Dean loves him. Oh God, how he loves him.

“I love—. Wait, shit. Uh,” he stammers. “It’s just—Cas, I can’t do this anymore.”

Cas looks at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“I can’t—” He gestures uselessly between them. “This doesn’t work for me. I thought I could do it but I can’t anymore, I’m not strong enough. You’re great, Cas, you’re so great and that’s the whole problem really. You’re perfect and I can’t stand only being yours when we’re horny and—and I can’t be your side piece, Cas. I saw the hickey, okay?” He points to Cas’s hip and Cas opens his mouth but Dean cuts him off, he has to get this all off of his chest right now before he chickens out. “And I tried to convince myself it would be okay, that just having any of you would be enough, but it ain’t. I—I want all of you, y’know? But I know you would never want that, and it’s just—just tearing me up inside thinking about it, thinking about never having you again, but I had to—I dunno, I felt like I had to say something, I guess. Can’t do this anymore.” Dean’s breathing hard by the end of his little rant as if he’d run a full marathon, his face and his body hot with shame. He’s tense and ready to flee, wondering if Cas will be so uncomfortable he’ll want to leave right away or if he’ll ask Dean to pack his bags. Either way, this is going to end badly.

He dares to glance up at Cas, wanting to search his expression for clues, when he notices something is off.

Cas is smiling, wide and gummy. This is Dean’s favorite smile and it’s so rare; why is Cas smiling like that and why right now?

Still holding the fucking tomato sauce, Cas takes two careful steps toward Dean, close enough to touch.

“This bruise is from when I walked into the table last night but, yes, I like you, too.”

The little gears in Dean’s brain refuse to turn and process this information. “Huh?”

“I want the same things you do, Dean,” Cas says. He takes another step forward, his smile becoming a bit shy. “I want all of you, too.” The way his eyelashes are fluttering gently makes Dean’s heart trip over itself. “I…sort of thought we were in a good place? I mean, I really didn’t want to push you into a relationship you didn’t want. I just thought we would talk about it eventually.” Cas laughs. “I guess we’re doing that now.”

Dean has yet to form any words. He’s feeling a bit shocked and off-kilter at the moment. He does, however, take a half step toward Cas and reach out to grab the hem of his shirt. He squints at Cas’s hip and thinks, yeah, that’s definitely a bruise and not the sexy kind. Huh.

“Dean?” He looks up at Cas, who’s biting his lip. “Say something?”

What could he possibly say at this moment? How could he respond to being offered everything he’s ever wanted in the form of his gorgeous roommate and best friend? He takes another step, bringing them chest to chest in their cramped kitchen. Then, he raises both hands in order to cup Cas’s cheek, to nudge his bitten lower lip with his thumb, and to push his fingers into that dark, messy hair.

“I’m the luckiest son of a gun alive,” he finally says, drawing Cas even closer. “Not sure what I did to deserve this, but I ain’t gonna question it.”

Cas rolls his eyes before he leans forward to kiss Dean’s jaw. “You’re pretty dense for an honors student, did you know that?”

“Dense and blind, apparently.”

“I’ll forgive you,” Cas says, taking Dean’s hands in his own and stepping back. “I’ll forgive you if you come back to bed with me right now and don’t get up for a while.”

“Oh, I’m thinking we’re both gonna get up.” Dean smirks, following Cas to his bedroom with bare feet and an open heart, too.

#geaneric #fic #destiel #dean #cas #omegadeannet #glassesdeannetwork #profoundnet #mishacollinsnet #adorablecocklesnet #scrunchnet #dcjsquad #2014casnet #dwlts #au #pbwrites #publicado #smut implied #mine: 300

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jinjojess · 6 years

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As I was tagging the last reblog I was thinking of adding a playful "meet me in the pit workshop" joke but it occurred to me that… I have actually encountered someone similar to these folks in the wild during my MFA program. Not exactly the same, but a related phenomenon.

(Cut for length, don’t worry there’s a tl;dr at the end)

My degree was a 2 year fiction writing one, and every semester you had to take mandatory lit courses as well as a workshop course. For those of you who aren't familiar, a workshop is generally run like so:

person/people submit a piece to the class to be read and then critiqued the following lesson

during the crit phase, everyone in the room except the author discusses the work: what worked, what didn't, how they felt about it, etc.

the writer cannot say anything until the very end of the critique; it's usually encouraged that they only answer any direct questions and/or reply with "Thank you for your comments."

writer reworks the piece according to whatever input they deemed helpful and resubmit again later to repeat the process

As you can imagine, it's a VERY good way to thicken your skin and learn to tell helpful critique from stupid nonsense (i.e., the guy who insisted you always needed more talking animals). My first workshop in undergrad started off with a girl calling my opening paragraph "so pretentious [she] wanted to slit [her] wrists more than continue". I'm still grateful to her to this day, because hot damn was that what I needed to hear.

Anyway, by the time I got to grad school, all the people in my year were already workshop veterans, and so we were generally polite in our feedback, even if it was firmly critical.

Then, in my second year, we got an influx of new people, along with some…unique personalities, one of which was a girl clearly raised on YT film critics (and maybe fanfic sporking, but I suspect that might've been before her time).

When my friend TK submitted a story about a Latina sex worker conflicted over whether or not to marry her white boyfriend because of her complicated feelings regarding her work and heritage, this girl ripped into it. Nothing in this story was salvageable. It was misogynistic, it was tropey, it was racist, it was too idealistic, the characters were all horrible people. (In reality I wouldn't say it did any of those things, thanks in most part to the degree of nuance my friend gave the protagonist and the focus on her relatable human struggles regarding work vs love life vs public image vs personal community etc.) The story was stupid and Bad the writer should feel ashamed.

Understandably everyone was a bit ??? at this read, and even the eccentric professor known for tough love asked her to tone it back a bit, but we treated her critiques as valid like all the others. TK was kind of shell-shocked for a bit after, choosing instead to work on a different story of hers.

When the time came around for the hyper-critic girl to submit, we were pretty intrigued to see what she thought great work would look like. If TK's story was entry-level schlock, then this girl must have some serious avant-garde ideas about narrative. My buddy J, who exclusively wrote in meta-textual symbolism, was particularly excited.

Here's the synopsis of hyper-critic girl's story:

White Anglo-American girl is told she cannot date white Italian-American boy because he's new to the neighborhood. They sneak out and go on a date to a 50s-style candy shop, after which girl decides she's in love and will see the boy again no matter what.

Cue ??? from all of us Part II.

We were pretty gracious in our feedback, since no one wanted to be That Guy and sink to her level, but we did bring up the distinct lack of…oh, racial minorities, queer people, realistic tensions or conflicts, and anything new or unique.

What we discovered was that she had panicked when it was her time on the chopping block, and had resorted to writing the safest thing possible. Ironically, her story in all its blandness was more offensive to good writing than TK's could ever hope to be. (Not to mention pretty exclusionary to anyone but the most mainstream of audiences.)

In the end, her writing improved a lot after that (she had a weird dud about intra-family melodrama that had the depth of a soap opera, but following that one she started coming up with much better stuff) and she got way better at giving thoughtful critique.

Obviously this isn't a 1:1 comparison with the purity types, but it strikes me as similar because I see a lot of "writing advice" on Tumblr centering on this idea that you should only address the safest of topics or risk doing A Bad Thing. If you try to include anything but the most mainstream of ideas or subjects, then it must be 100% perfect or else it will be the sole downfall of society. It explains the viciousness aimed at works that do try to be more inclusive, while leaving other things that don't try alone. This paralyzing fear of feedback is where the Every Ending Must Be Happy people come from, since tragedy and pathos will often take a more delicate, deft touch and they’re terrified of being written off as edgy or cynical.

Basically the only rule of writing is that you can write whatever you want, just do it well. Not everyone will like it, and that's okay. You will write things that can be interpreted in a problematic way, and that's just an occupational hazard. Despite what purity types think, a writer cannot control what a reader will take away from their work.

So here’s the point: treat all feedback like you're in a workshop. The stuff you can use, use, and don't be intimidated into sanding off everything that makes your writing unique and interesting. Sometimes the weirdo telling you that you need to eliminate children from your stories or include more talking snakes has no idea what they’re talking about either.

#long post #writing #I have lots of fun grad school stories #I should share them more #in other news god I have been trapped at this assignment forever #fucking process me so I can get back to work!!

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carolrance · 5 years

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I AM DYING LMAO

i just found the most hilarious reviews for the handmaid’s tale and i’m dying lol. since twop is dead(?) (is it? i dunno cos i never look anymore tbh) this is the next best thing. and it’s doubly awesome cos she hates all the same characters. (mutual nick hate is my life). i have another post in my drafts about how amazing amy glynn’s reviews at paste are. and they are. but they are serious. these ones are snarktastic.

“Welcome back to America’s favorite rape and explosions show, The Handmaid’s Tale.”

“Nick goes out into the rain, full emo cigarette smoking, resigned to boning this virgin, when he spies something. Oh no! It’s Offred, sprawled in the rain, bleeding to death. He picks her up and screams for help. My god. These two. Offred is the world’s worst teenager. And Nick is her bad boy boyfriend. She’s going to robotically obey and then bleed to death in the rain? Get the fuck out of here with that. These two act like they are in a My Chemical Romance music video circa 2005.” (This is my fav one of them all.)

“Speaking of Nick, he’s still the worst! His baby bride comes to Offred for...advice? I don’t know why she comes to her exactly, except maybe it’s like coming to your sluttiest friend and asking a weird sex question? I don’t know.”

“Serena is clearly mad about Offred, and E. Moss is doing a great job as playing her as the bitchiest teenager in the house. Aunt Lydia has moved in to keep her eye on Offred, and she bursts in during Offred’s teenage sulk bath to instruct her to wash. Down there. You know. (vagina). Offred makes more defiant teenage eye contact as she washes. Down there. She’s almost coming on to Lydia. That’s cool, I guess.”

“We cut to the Colonies and some more cockadoodie plot machinations. Because of the mass casualty event, Emily and Janine, among others, are going to be pressed back into service as Handmaids. This is some ripe bullshit. First off, both are disobedient. Secondly, they’ve been in the radioactive Colonies for a hot minute--who knows what that’s done to their baby making machinery? But now the writers can bring back some important characters. COCKADOODIE.”

“Part of the purpose of the walks are so the fetus can hear and get used to Serena’s voice, you see, and Serena wants to talk shit about everyone they know.”

“We get some grade A pen pornography as she lovingly fingers Fred’s pens, and we close on the image of Serena behind the desk and Offred clicking the ballpoint just like Ofglen clicked the detonator. (We also get an insane music cue: “Venus.” You know, from the razor commercials and also the 1960s? Like, what the what the what, show.)”

“She’s worked on her shrine and her newspaper-clipping Crazy Wall ™, where she is reconstructing the events that led to the creation of Gilead. Which is great, but also, bitch, didn’t you watch the fucking news? You lived through this.”

“They load up into a truck, but at the last minute, Offred remembers that she is the worst and this show is supposed to go for ten seasons, so she hops out, gives the baby to Emily, and heads back into the night, to become Jedi June and fight Gilead to rescue her other daughter.”

“Serena stomps into Devil Fred’s mancave while he is enjoying his jazz records and demands that Offred go back to the Red Center. Fred talks her down, telling her that they don’t want to miss the joy of the pregnancy. Which, okay, Fred. You try having a testy teenager in your face all day.”

“I really wanted to punch her during all of this. How golly, and how insensitive, to poke through their sacred objects and get all teary-eyed, especially as they risk their lives to shelter her dumb ass.”

“Serena monologues about her drafts of new security orders. She wants things to get back to normal--she wants to cut back on the police state to normal dystopian police state levels.”

“It seems the Marthas have had enough, and they are taking action. Offred fucks around for about ten minutes because she is the worst, carving Nolite into the bedroom wall.”

“Anyway, Serena is super pissed, violently potting succulents and plotting dark deeds.”

“At some point, Offred takes a pout bath that is red with blood. She also bleeds clear through her underwear. When they get home, the Waterfords welcome Nick’s bride into the household, and then send Offred and Rita away. Rita is worried about Offred, but Offred has decided to bleed to death. Up the stairs she goes.”

“Offred’s presence rouses Fred out of his mini-coma for just long enough for him to remark on her size (just like a real son of a bitch). Offred leaves and makes out with Nick in the hall because they are stupid assholes. I mean, really. There are people and Eyes all over the place and these two are just slobbering all over. Offred also makes the Martha’s shooting all about her in a real self-centered way.”

“Let’s check in on the boring house, shall we? Offred decides to go around and collect godmothers for her baby.”

“Oh I forgot that Nick and Offred cuddled the baby and blah blah and I still hate them. Also, Nick, your baby bride’s blood is on your hands.”

“In the show, though, we’ve seen a lot of natal care, including ultrasounds, and we’ve seen the inside of a hospital room. Why in the fucking hell would they mess around with home birth at all? It’s so illogical it makes me mad.”

“So she goes outside with the shotgun, has another wolf encounter, and blasts off some rounds to alert someone of her presence. Then she goes back inside and takes off all her clothes and shits that kid out.”

“Back at the Waterford manse, Serena and Offred bond, AGAIN, over Eden’s execution and Serena lets Offred breast feed the baby, because she is completely internally inconsistent. On this episode, Serena will be affected by the atrocities of the regime she helped create. ANYWAY, THE END.”

“Eden wants to spruce up the apartment, and Nick gives her permission and plays the husband humoring his little woman’s whims. Which, total and complete barf forever. Nick still doesn’t see Eden as a potential threat, because he is an idiot. While she’s working on her HGTV audition tape, she finds the stack of contraband letters Nick took from Offred when she was going mad.”

“Into the house they run, Serena screaming Offred’s name like she’s going to catch her and probably murder her. I mean, this is full throated scream. If your dog ran away, you wouldn’t scream his name that way because he would be like: that bitch is crazy and wants to kill me. So it unsuprisingly doesn’t work on a human woman.”

“Meanwhile, Nick catches Eden kissing the douchebag Guardian. He’s like no big deal, and Eden freaks out. She says that he’s in love with the Handmaid, and he gaslights the fuck out of her denying it. Nick is a bastard. He shows Eden no kindness. He doesn’t treat her like a person. She doesn’t rate even a decent excuse. There are many things he could say: that she’s so young, that they don’t know each other, that he’s unhappy to be married at all. But he does none of those things. This woman is fifteen years old. She’s spent her adolescence under the yoke of Gilead. While she may be a true believer, she is still not in charge of her fate here. Nick is a bastard.”

“Devil Fred and Offred get in a knock-down, drag out, and he misquotes the bible at her and slaps her across the face. She then slaps him across his face, and is not immediately fucking super murdered.”

“Emily is like what the fuck, this place is weird. Lydia is like, bye! You better be good or we will kill you! Have fun! Anyway, she has a brief conversation with the Wife, who is like: this guy is horrible. He created The Colonies! He poisoned people! Commander Old Hipster gently shuffles her away, back to her crazy room.”

And serious business shit (cos it’s not all jokes):

“What I do think is wrong is the zig-zagging of Serena’s character. She’s mean and petty, and then she’s happy playing writer to Offred’s editor. Then she’s mad again, and then even more mad after that. Raping Offred to punish her for false labor is insane and irredeemable. Devil Fred has been consistently devilish--a prick who enjoys owning women--but Serena has seesawed from one extreme to another. I don’t think it makes her character more complicated or deep. Instead, it seems like inconsistency in the writing.

This show has been saluted as being of the times, for being very current. When I see children being ripped from their parents, or in an earlier episode this season, people desperate to escape to another country, and then I see it echoed in real life, it is hard to take. Dystopias are less entertaining to watch when you live in a country that seems to be accelerating toward the same.”

“Things I liked: Annie Lennox, Commander Old Hipster/his house/his wife/his Martha/his stolen art collection/taste in graphic novels/scarves, Rita and the Marthas rising up. Things I didn’t like: EVERYTHING ELSE

As adaptations go, the second season was always going to be a rough one. I can’t say that it was successful. They’ve turned June/Offred into an asshole, and they made Serena so inconsistent we don’t even know what to expect moment to moment. That’s not good writing, y’all.”

BTW, the site is:

https://heauxsmag.com/new-blog/?tag=handmaids+tale

#i'm gonna read s1 later #the handmaid's tale #i no longer worry about any of my posts showing up in tags cos apparently tumblr has decided that nothing i post is worthy of being found ev #ever so whatevs pals. i don't even worry about tagging to avoid being seen in a search now #it's kinda like freedom?? but also invisibility???? hmmmmmmm #there's gotta be some sort of philosophical treatise in there or something #who cares #anti-nick #there i did it. i have a tag. cos nick is the worst.#(he's not the literal worst obvs. but he's the worst to me cos of fandom. it ruined him totally and made me hate him 10000%)#(serena and fred and lydia like worse than him technically but meh.)

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professionallyprocrastinating · 6 years

Text

The Murder Mystery

From this prompt, heartily encouraged by @aelphaba1

Ramona really, really hated her family’s insistence on setting her up on blind dates. She found relationships so much easier when she was writing them, and could actually make sense of both party’s actions and motivations. Also, with her characters, she didn’t have to deal with complaints that she made no sense and was a ‘creepy wierdo’.

This time, Ramona’s sister had bribed her with the promised loan of her kitchen next time Ramona needed to cook in bulk, and the assurance that this dating site found matches based on search history and common interests. That, at least, made her morbidly curious about the person she would be meeting. At worst, they could at least talk about interesting topics until Ramona’s dating obligations were fulfilled.

Ramona was a writer; specifically a crime and thriller writer. ‘Interesting’ was the nicest possible way to describe her search history. ‘Creepy’ and ‘potentially criminal’ were far more common terms. That the dating site had actually found someone to match her up with was kind of impressive.

Josh felt kind of guilty going on a blind date, with a person who might turn out to be genuinely nice. He hadn’t had much luck with blind dates in the past, since most of them found him off-putting or boring, and they never seemed to have anything in common.

He never killed them, since they never treated him badly enough to deserve it, but it got depressing after a while. He hoped that a dating site that matched people based on search history and common interests might turn up someone who would at least be able to carry on an interesting conversation.

Josh was a serial killer, targeting people who deserved it; Mafia Bosses, CEOs who exploited their workers and used questionable business practices, politicians who allowed themselves to be bought by vested interests... People the world was honestly better off without. He was doing a public service, really, albeit one that would probably get him arrested if anyone found out. Then again, sit-ins in a segregated bar used to be grounds for arrest and imprisonment, too, so clearly there was a sliding scale for illegality.

Well, perhaps the date would go well, and perhaps it wouldn’t. Perhaps he would even find out about the shitty ex- who treated them horribly enough to warrant being Josh’s next victim.

The dating site also set up a convenient meeting place for the date, in this case a quiet coffee house in the BoHo part of town. Ramona got there early, found the table booked in their name - apparently her date was a guy called Josh - and pulled out her notebook. She had fifteen minutes, possibly even more if her date shared the previous one’s tardiness, so she might as well get some writing done.

Besides, sometimes it scored her a free drink, if the owner believed in supporting independent artists.

Lost in her work, she jumped a little, pen skittering across the page, when a voice like hot chocolate came from beside her, “Sorry to interrupt, are you Ramona?”

She looked up, and then up some more. The man who interrupted her was tall, with lean but defined arm muscles, mostly revealed by the short-sleeved button-down he wore. His jeans weren’t so tight to be able to tell if his legs matched, but Ramona was willing to make an educated guess. Well, he would make a nice character description for her next male lead, even if he turned out to be an internet troll living in his mother’s basement. “Yes, hi. You’re Josh?”

His smile was as nice to look at as the rest of him. “Yes, hi. Sorry, I didn’t think I was running late.”

Ramona shook her head, “Oh, no, I was early. There turned out to be less traffic than I thought, so I had time to kill.”

Josh sat down across from her, and earned instant points by not trying to play footsie. “What are you working on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Well, at least they could get the awkward out of the was early. “I’m a crime fiction writer. This will hopefully become the outline for my next book.”

There was a gleam of interest in his eye, which earned him even more points, upgrading Josh to ‘text and thank for a nice date’ status. “What’s it about.”

Josh wasn’t sure what falling in love was supposed to feel like, but he was pretty sure that it felt like this.

Ramona’s detailed descriptions of the detective who kept barely missing the killer, the race against time, the anticipation of the victims who knew that they were going to be next... he took back evey bad thing he had ever said about dating sites. This one had matched him up with the most perfect woman on the face of the planet. A first date was probably too soon to start planning a life together, wasn’t it? Maybe an exception could be made?

Ramona paused for breath, and he took the opportunity to contribute, so she would know that he was actually listening, rather than faking it. He didn’t want to mess this up. “What’s the villain’s motivation? Like, subconcious trauma, skewed morality but wants to make the world better, or just in it for the adreniline rush.”

The way her face lit up took Josh’s breath away, and she gestured to her notebook. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do you mind if I write this down?”

She could ask him to sit in an abandoned car for hours, and he would probably agree at this point. “Oh, go ahead.”

Josh waited a few minutes, before he dared to interrupt. “Out of curiosity, how would you kill someone and make it look accidental?”

Ramona barely looked up, her distracted tone comparable to the most beautiful music he had ever heard. “Air shot between the toes. Makes it look like a heart attack.”

Josh swallowed hard, pushing down a surge of arousal. Oh, yes, he was in love.

Ramona was plesantly surprised by how well the date was going.

Josh hadn’t once mocked her, and seemed genuinely interested in everything she had to say. He hadn’t even complained or become offended when she pulled out her notebook to start scribbling, but casually pulled a book out of his backpack, sipping coffee while he waited for her to finish. Looking at the title, Ramona recognised the book as one with an author who actually did their research. “Hey, do you know how long it would take someone to die from a stab to the gut?”

Immediatly, she winced, hoping that she hadn’t just committed some weird and unintentional faux pas. He didn’t get up and run out of the cafe, which was something, but his eyes did darken slightly. Ramona didn’t think it was with anger, though, and he tilted his head to the side, thinking. “Two minutes to half an hour, it depends on a variety of factors.”

Was a first date too early to start thinking abut wedding rings? Ramona thought that the answer was probably ‘yes - way too fast’.

A pity, that; a gold and platinum ring, with an inlaid ruby or two, would look amazing on him.

Josh worked as a Butcher’s assistant, but he always made sure to shower and change before he came home.

They had both received some very askance looks from family members after moving in together after only a few months, but they didn’t care. Ramona didn’t freak out when ther was the occasional bloodstain to be washed out of his clothing, and he thought it was adorable when she bought her notebook to the table, writing between bites.

This one was new, Ramona having just finished filling up her old one. She looked up from her writing as Josh finished his coffee. “Babe, I’m not sure if this murder scene I’m writing is realistic enough. Can you look it over and tell me?”

Josh could do one better than that; he could actually test it out. “Mind if I take it to work with me and read it over? I’ll tell you when I get home tonight.”

Ramona smiled happily at him. “Sure. I should probably get my old notebook transcribed onto my computer, anyway.”

Josh kissed her on the cheek on his way out the door. “I might be a bit late coming home, one of the other staff wasn’t feeling well yesterday, and I might need to cover. I’ll be home in time for dinner, promise.”

Ramona nodded and waved goodbye, already searching for her charger. She’d probably be spending the day at her favourite cafe, staffed with people who didn’t care how long she took up a table, so long as she kept buying drinks and gave the employees something do during the lull period. Josh had already decided that he would probably never need to visit any of them.

On the other hand, there was a customer who had taken to making one of the trainee’s life difficult; complaining about everything and threatening to call the immigration police or local law enforcement. Josh seriously doubed that anyone would actually miss him.

He didn’t manage to completely wash away the smell of blood before he got home - he didn’t want to be late, not after promising Ramona that he would be on time for dinner. She didn’t seem to mind as he handed back her new notebook. “It works perfectly, babe, you’re doing an amazing job.”

Ramona beamed, putting the finishing touches on the pasta dish she was making. He knew for a fact that she threw it together in half an hour, but that wasn’t important. “Oh, a co-worker read it over my shoulder and asked if you were re-writing Sweeny Todd or something. I think that’s the only near-horror thing he’s ever looked at, honestly.”

Ramona huffed. “Not hardly, Sweeny was an idiot, and Mrs Lovett’s pies shouldn’t have sold half so well. Adult meat is mostly muscle; cooking it in a pie would make it far too tough and gamey. They would have done better to go for foundling babies. Fatty meats are far more tender.”

Josh wrapped his arms around her. “Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?”

#writing prompts #nanowrimo #why am i like this

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