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redclercs · 11 months

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

ix. i'm so sick of running as fast as i can

— the one where they painted you out to be bad (so it's okay that you're mad).

warnings: fair warning you're going to be pissed, foul language, this one has more media between text and it's a little long. 2.3k words (+articles and a very long youtube thing!!)

currently playing: it's time to go by taylor swift!

masterlist ✢ next

By Alana Blake

YOU read it here first, friends. #YNCHARLES is still going strong even after the mess y/n found herself in during the Spanish Grand Prix weekend.

Rumor had it that after y/n's declarations where she said 'it was not serious' and 'she was just having fun', the Monegasque heartthrob dumped her immediately. This was fueled by the fact that we didn't see any pictures of them together during such weekend.

But sources have come to the rescue, letting us all know they're not broken up! "They talk every day for hours," our source said, "Both are still trying to keep it fun but more lowkey after everyone found out about the cheating."

RELATED: Victoria Presley's top five beauty hacks.

You would think that after a partner refers to you as a 'toy', dumping them is the best course of action, but apparently that doesn't apply to Mr. Leclerc who has "nothing but good things to say about y/n".

"He's excited to see her in New York before the Canada Grand Prix, they have it all planned out since she has her apartment back." The source added.

One thing is for sure, if we see y/n at the next Grand Prix, that's the big confirmation that they are together, since they blew their Elix cover by forcing them to end the contract.

SEE ALSO:

→ Victoria Presley's inauguration after party at the Grand Havana Room, you just had to be there.

→ Taylor Swift defends y/n y/ln: ''All of you have learned nothing!"

→ Aidan Kim on Charles Leclerc: "Never heard of him until my girlfriend cheated on me"

𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝘼𝙔? 𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙒!

You're seeing the top comments.

Anonymous – 4 hr ago

They're both so shameless! and charles was liking tweets saying they were friends like he could really trick us.

kollhha – 3 hr ago

I hate her, Charles dump her ass for the love of god.

adriennewells – 40 min ago

no but seriously what is it about y/n that has men brainwashed?

Anonymous – 10 min ago

They WOULD be cute together, i don't think they're dating though.

June 10th, Los Angeles, California

You fit your life for the past months into two suitcases, and a carry on. Your room at Vic's house is messy and it feels strangely empty without your discarded shoes and dirty laundry on the floor. But it's time to go, you cannot impose your presence in this enormous house anymore. You have felt like an intruder since you started traveling to Formula 1 and coming back every week like this is your hotel and not your best friend's home.

"Are you really going back to New York?" Vic asks from behind you, voice low with sadness.

"Yes, Vic, I have to." you sigh, turning to meet her. She's dressed up in her fucsia workout gear, holding a light ring in her left hand and her phone in the right. Your flight leaves in the evening and you were hoping to have a meal with Vic before parting to the airport, but it looks like she's all booked.

"No you don't," she argues, entering the room. "Hollywood is here, y/n why do you need to go back to New York? You're an actress!"

You feel like a lot of things, except for an actress right now.

"I don't think Hollywood wants me right now, Vic," you say, going back to the unmade bed to lie down. You asked the cleaning lady if she could leave your room for last so you could finish picking your stuff up, and she agreed gently. "Plus, I really miss New York."

"y/n you haven't even visited my store, you can't go!" Vic's tone changes in octave, and it's not her whiny 'please don't do this' tone you're so used to. "I asked you for ONE favor and you're running to New York and you can't do even just that?"

"Woah, Vic, what the fuck?" you use your elbows as support to lean up and look at her. "Calm down. It's okay." you know her tantrum comes from the fact that she truly believes you could boost her beauty line sales and make her store a 'hot spot'. And it would work, for the wrong reasons. You don't want Vic being dragged down into this mess too. Mati and Charles are enough casualties.

"NO IT'S NOT!" Victoria is full-on yelling now, the light ring has been tossed aside. "I have given everything you've asked from me in the past months since your life started falling apart. I think I deserve something in return."

You ignore the bite of her words. She's angry, which is understandable to some level. She doesn't mean it, right? That she always expected something in return.

"Vic, listen, I know how important your store is to you. But I promise you, you don't want the attention I'm bringing to anyone close to me right now."

"Oh, so you're doing this for my own good now?" she scoffs, ponytail flying in the air as she turns around. "Are you fucking Charles Leclerc for his own good too? Or do men's reputations don't matter?" she spits.

You halt completely, halfway out of the mattress. "What did you say?"

"Oh, please y/n. You really want me to believe you don't want to be seen with me to 'protect me'" she throws the quotations in the air, "And yet you went on your pretty vacation with that bitch Matilde, and you talk to fucking Charles Leclerc every day!"

"Victoria, stop," your brain is a mix of anger, sadness and confusion. You’re having trouble catching up to the where the conversation is going. "That was different, Vic. In case you haven't noticed, things can't stop getting worse. My life is not good right now." You choke on the last words, because it's the first time you say such things out loud. You have never been more miserable.

Victoria scoffs yet again, and it’s a tear in your heart. She's really not backing off. "Of course your life isn't good y/n wah, wah. You have money and beauty and a pilot boyfriend, it sucks so much to be you!"

"Why are you so bothered about it? Why is Charles the main problem here?" you wipe the tears from your cheeks, scratching the skin with one of your rings. "Why the fuck are you acting like this?"

Everything was alright this morning at breakfast, when you reminded her you were leaving and your luggage was almost done. When you thanked her for taking you in and told her you could never really repay her support.

"Because you get everything you want all the time!" Victoria stomps to you, her face inches away when she stops. "You always get what you want no matter what. It didn't even matter that I said you view him as a fucking piece of meat! He still went after you."

The world moves in slow-motion as her words cascade on you. Your lungs close and your throat tightens again, and you want to fight the panic attack because you just know Victoria is not going to help you. How could she? If she's the one who betrayed you.

"How–Why–" you stutter, the hem of your shirt on your fist. You can fight this. "How could you do this to me?"

Victoria finally comes to the realization of what she let out, and covers her mouth. "y/n no– look–"

"Who told you about the ring?" your jaw is locked and you're trying not to lose focus. "How could you tell them about the ring?!"

"How could you not tell ME?! I'm your fucking best friend, you bitch!" she's raising her voice again, her surprise pushed aside because you're still fighting. "I had to find out through Aidan, months later."

The Cannes party. Of course.

You thought about asking her about it. Telling her it hurt you that she hung out so happily with Aidan when he was the reason you arrived at her house one night in February, frightened, sad, and confused. But you didn't because you trusted her. You would have trusted Victoria with your life at some point.

"It really is you, then," tears are streaming down your face again.

You feel stupid because only yesterday, in another rage-scroll through Twitter, you noticed people were already making theories about how it was Victoria who was selling information about you. And you felt so offended, how could they think your best friend would do that to you?

"How could you, Victoria? How could you make all that shit up?"

You talked to Victoria about the articles. You cried and told her you were sorry you didn’t let her in on the failed proposal, it was something you were still processing and couldn’t bring yourself to talk about, still wondering if it had been a mistake every now and then. You told her how sorry you felt to Charles because he just wanted to hang out with you—to be friends with you—and people marked him down as a home wrecker when he had nothing to do with it.

“It was definitely Mia though, wasn’t it?” She said as she rubbed your back and passed the box of tissues to you. “She always hated you, so weird. It was like she loved Aidan in a fucked up way.” Victoria even shuddered exaggeratedly, trying to make you laugh.

“Yeah I’m sure it was Mia, Aidan just won’t admit it.” You let her wipe your tears and smooth your hair down. Nobody could convince you that your ex-sister-in-law didn’t run to People and spewed shit. It was the most logical conclusion that Aidan was protecting his little sister.

This had been three days ago, she lied and made fun of you, to your face.

"So now I'm a liar? You are fucking Charles Leclerc! Or what, you expect me to believe all you do is hold hands and peck each other's cheeks?"

Again with Charles, it infuriates you.

"You told the press I'm a cheater! And I am NOT with Charles, God you're so stupid!"

"How would I know whether it's true or not? You never tell me anything anymore, do you? You don't care about me! I'm your best friend. I deserve to be your priority!"

"You deserve to rot in hell, you lying bitch." you don't even raise your voice anymore, "How could I ever love you?"

Victoria laughs, and your heart finally shatters. "I would do it again, y/n, because it's what you forced me to do."

The apartment is a mess, and you know it's on purpose. Your clothes are everywhere, the dirt from the plants you kept on the balcony is all over the floor, the coffee table is broken and your room looks like a hurricane passed through. Your coffee maker and your Specialty coffee both lie on the floor of the kitchen, and there is a horrible smell coming from the fridge. Aidan hasn't been gone long enough for things to rot to that extent, especially because every appliance is plugged in.

You don't want to look at the rest of the house, or your belongings. All you do is lean down to pick up your Moka pot, and make time to think, but you're unable to stand straight again. It's like the pain is pulling you down. How did your life become this?

A ruined apartment, a rejected engagement and a backstabbing best friend are things that happen in the movies. You would know. This wasn't supposed to happen to you.

Crying in that ruined kitchen, holding a Moka pot like it's your greatest treasure and not some piece of trash that you will never be able to use anymore, you get angry, furious. Because this is not your life and it was never supposed to be. And it's about time you start doing something about it.

You are sick of running. Of having people question you for not 'defending' yourself when you have no reason to be attacked in the first place. Relationships die, and yours had been past its time to be buried. Saying no is not a crime. And it never will be.

Victoria had burned her own thread with you in the worst way possible because you didn't make her the only person in your life. And you had overlooked every time you felt used by her, unloved, and tossed aside. Friends can break your heart too, and Victoria had ripped yours out of your chest.

Nobody has to tell you who you are, because you know. And you are nothing of what you've let tabloids, netizens and reporters say. You cannot keep running and you cannot keep hiding, and though you wish you had understood that earlier. It's never too late to pick yourself up.

Mildred and Walter are going to be pissed, but their advice was that you remained lowkey for however long it took Hollywood to get their next big scandal. Weeks, months, years.

And you're not about to scurry away into darkness like a rat.

FROM “JUST WATCH THIS” POSTED IN Y/N Y/LN'S YOUTUBE CHANNEL POSTED JUNE 12TH

[y/n,minute 01:30]: ❝...So I've finally decided to come here and tell you everything that has been happening for the past months. It's the truth, but whether you believe it is a personal choice.❞

[y/n,minute 05:56]: ❝It was a three-year dead-end relationship. You cannot, and should not, have a future with someone who laughs at your dreams, and tells you how you should behave and how to look to exalt him.❞

[y/n, minute 07:15]: ❝I said no. And I have not regret it for one second. I didn't tell anyone because I respect Aidan, although I don't think that is reciprocal by now.❞

[y/n, minute 10:01]: ❝I never cheated on him, and I know the source of those rumors. It breaks my heart to know that someone I trusted made up stuff about myself, and a part of my life that was so important to me. I am not telling you who it was, however, I will take legal action against them if the defamation continues.❞

[y/n, minute 14:54]: ❝Aidan decided to tell this person about our failed engagement, and I do not know if his intention was that this all became public. But I wish he'd been mature enough to handle it privately, like the adults we both are.❞

[y/n, minute 16:59]: ❝I started attending Formula 1 races because of an Ambassador contract I held with Elix until three days ago, when they decided to rescind it.❞

[y/n, minute 18:07]: ❝That's where I met both Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, back in April. Since they are the drivers for Ferrari, we spent a lot of time in the same place, which led to us becoming friends.❞

[y/n, minute 19:04]: ❝Charles Leclerc is my friend and we are not romantically involved, I urge you to stop making stuff up about him too. He never messed with my past relationship, we did not know each other.❞

[y/n, minute 21:55]: ❝When all of this started, I believed—naively— that it could just die down on its own. I am an actress. I was not only 'Aidan Kim's girlfiend' and I am not only his ex-girlfriend now. I am y/n y/ln.❞

[y/n, minute 23:31]: ❝I should have spoken sooner. I should have shut everything down the moment I started feel miserable and out of control. But I also know, I was being crucified so badly because I am a woman.❞

[y/n, minute 26:00]: ❝You have made me feel miserable and anxious, I have suffered from panic attacks and sleepless nights. And I'm not saying this to make you all feel bad and regretful, because the one thing you lack the most is empathy.❞

[y/n, minute 28:45]: ❝But I want you all to think that, if it had been the other way around and Aidan hadn't wanted to marry me, you would have said 'he wasn't ready' and you would have let him move on and find "The One" in peace.❞

[y/n, minute 31:35]: ❝If it was Timothee Chalamet—whom I also have a deep appreciation for—doing RomComs and nothing more, you would call it 'his specialty' and never question his talent.❞

[y/n, minute 33:17]: ❝If I was a man, this wouldn't have killed my reputation.❞

[y/n, minute 36:21]: ❝I will not remain quiet anymore while you step on me and diminish my work. I do not owe anything to Aidan Kim except for the drama the past months have brought me.❞

[y/n, minute 38:11]: ❝I'm going to focus on the future. And I am well aware this will be continue to be a topic of conversation, but I am not scared anymore. Because I know who I am and who I can count on.❞

[y/n, minute 40:12]: ❝If it weren't for my fans, who have been fighting my battles so hard, I wouldn't be here either. They're here for me, and I can never repay such pure love.❞

[y/n, minute 42:22]: ❝If you watched up to here, I'm sure you're wondering whether you should believe all of this, and like I said, it's all up to you❞

[y/n, minute 44:50]: ❝I will not be speaking about Aidan Kim again, so I ask you to refrain from asking about him. It's all been said and done, and I'm eager to move on.❞

[END]

You are looking at the all the comments.

aidanbabes WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BITCH EVEN ON

flowerbedkim Oh so now Aidan forced her to be with him? Bullshit. You are never saving your lying ass y/n, fuck you!!!!!

thatbitch123 You are absolutely right y/n if you were a man this wouldn’t have happened it's so sad

ynbabes2 my queen i waited for you to speak for so long!!! WE HAVE TO MOVE ON FROM THIS

leclercstar you all have made this girl's life absolute hell, i hope you never find peace!! I'm glad she's friends with Charles and Carlos.

presleyvibes wait and you thank people but not Vic who let you stay at her house? you're an ungrateful bitch

albstappen I saw her pic with Lily Muni and I just knew she was one of the good ones

ynmybeloved EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST YN SHALL FALL

kim41d4an IT'S YOUR WORD AGAINST AIDAN'S YOU CHEATING WHORE

June 12th, SoHo, New York.

You are trying to clean the mess around you as best you can. And although you could call someone to help you, sweeping and scrubbing keeps you busy and distracted. The first message you received after posting the video was from Mati a 'proud of you xx, tell me all about it later please!' text that made you take your first deep breath of the afternoon. You made an appointment with a doctor first thing in the morning, you want the panic to go away, you need it to.

Thoughts of how they're destroying you again, calling you a liar and a whore, swarm your brain and you try to toss them in the trash along with your ruined Dolce & Gabbana coat, mysteriously cut up with scissors. You told the truth, and not even the whole of it.

The video is being shown everywhere, you're sure you'll see it tomorrow in Good Morning America where they'll dissect every single move you make and every word that comes out of your mouth.

It's almost 9 pm when you finally stop wiping the apartment down, trying to get rid of every sign that Aidan Kim was ever inside it. It's not true that he paid for the apartment, you picked it yourself and made it a home and then he chose to come and live here, paying the rent once every three to five months. This is your home and you are reclaiming it.

Your phone rings and you take another deep breath before picking it up. Mildred and Walter have resorted to communicate with you through email, so you wonder who it is. Victoria called a few times during the weekend, left voicemails and text messages until you blocked her. Each of them with a new excuse and a more creative way to pin all of what she had done, on you.

It's a FaceTime call from Charles.

"Charlie!" you greet with a smile, before the image of him loads completely. "It's 3 am in Monaco, what the hell are you doing awake?"

Charles shrugs and you notice his bare shoulders, he's shirtless. You're suddenly self-conscious about the way you look. With your hair sticking up from the sweat, your greasy face and ragged shirt. It's a silly worry.

"I wanted to talk to you," he says, and you know he's tired. "I saw your video earlier, but I was doing something else."

"Oh, you saw that."

"I'm proud of you y/n, you are brave for speaking your mind like that. I know it must have taken some effort." Charles moves again and you see his chest, he's already in bed.

"Charles, go to sleep, we can talk about this later," you chuckle, heat is rising to your face.

"I wanted to see you y/n, it doesn't matter what time it is. And I really wanted to tell you I'm glad you posted that video."

"Thank you, Charlie. I should have done it sooner."

"The only one who knows what timing is right for you, is yourself."

"Yeah, I guess so." you sigh, you're exhausted too and you blame it more on the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through than deep cleaning your apartment.

"Are you tired?" he asks, suppressing a yawn.

"No more than you," you retort, but can't help yawning as well. It's a scientific fact that yawns are contagious. "Go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow."

You talked yesterday too, and the day before, and you cried so much on the phone again you thought he would eventually hang up until you calmed down. But Charles soothed you through the phone at 1 am Monaco time and told you to let it all out, and listened without interrupting you once how you called Aidan and Victoria every name in the book.

"Fine," Charles says, rubbing his left eye carelessly. "Will you give me a tour of your apartment tomorrow, then?"

"Yes! I finished cleaning it today!"

Charles laughs softly at your excitement. “We’ll talk tomorrow then, just because you need to sleep.”

“Sure I am the sleepy one,” you roll your eyes and Charles smiles, both dimples showing. “Goodnight Charlie, sweet dreams.” The last part you say it in a slightly mocking tone but Charles doesn’t take it as such, smile widening.

“Goodnight soleil,” he says and waits a few seconds for you to react to your newly given nickname before hanging up, anxious but satisfied.

─── team principal radio: ❝thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are liking the story so far. We're slowly getting to the y/n redemption. Once again, i really appreciate all of your interactions they mean the world to me. Also check out the series playlist if you haven't♡❞

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buckyseddie · 9 months

Text

mine

pairings — rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary — in which, when rafe attempts to start over, he finds a mysterious girl who leaves him more and more curious about her after they meet. based on the song mine by taylor swift!

word count — 6.6k.

warnings — rafe left home and is more mentally stable and trying to be better, angst, fluff, reader has a bad past and family issues, use of pet-names [princess, baby, angel, sweetheart], hugs from the back, neck kisses, picnic dates, slight hints and mentions of fireworks and fourth of july, forehead kisses, forehead touches, kisses, rafe refers to reader as his girl a few times, reader calls rafe by his last name a few times, mentions of bills, arguments and fights, slight mentions of both of them getting mean in the fight, rain conversations, reader's big abandonment and trust issues are heavily mentioned, the reader and rafe get an unexpected and harsh visit from her parents, big mentions and hints of mental health, mentions and hints of rafe's dad's abuse in the past, reader has an episode and she has one with a panic episode with it, big mentions of reader and rafe visiting the obx and him being on good terms with sarah and the pogues because i wanted peace in this, mentions of rafe going back to college and working at a cafe.

notes — i've been wanting to do this one for a while, so here it is! gif and divider creds to owner!

p.s., feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated <3.

main masterlist

EVERYONE WANTS A FRESH START.

in this case, this means two polar opposites from completely different worlds.

all rafe wanted to do, was leave his life and past in outer banks behind — as far as he was concerned, the old rafe was gone.

after taking consequences for his actions and getting some much needed help, rafe moved out of his dad’s house and went back to college.

"ah-ah, ah-ah. ah-ah, ah-ah."

then, he got his life together and was ready enough for a job.

“you were in college, working part-time, waiting tables. left a small town, never looked back. i was a flight risk with a fear of fallin’, wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts.”

as great as it was that rafe was finally settled in the old town of charleston, things were about to change.

he was working, and one day, a girl — a very mysterious one, might i add — decided to stop at the cafe for some peace and quiet.

it wasn’t the first time a girl — or girls, if i’m being completely honest — stopped there.

in fact, loads of girls stopped there daily, most usually only stopping by to fawn over rafe.

but, he didn’t pay any mind to the attention — he was used to getting attention from girls from his experience as a kook back in outer banks.

and honestly? none of the girls that he’d seen stop at the cafe ever intrigued him or left him speechless.

well, at least until he met her.

there was something different about [y/n] — she had a certain distant emptiness to her.

she was reserved and quiet and shy, almost always making sure to do everything right, in fear of everything crashing down on her.

as she walks over to a table and sits down and opens up a book from her bag, rafe glances up and it’s as if time stops when their eyes make contact, despite how cheesy and corny that sounds.

he couldn’t believe his eyes — she was beautiful, of course.

but, she had that kind of side of her that he could tell she didn’t think it herself.

an easy-going smile is thrown her way as he makes his way over to her table, trying to ignore the shocking nerves coming from him.

“hi. would you like something to drink?” he asks in a surprisingly calm tone as he pulls out his notepad and pen, awaiting her answer.

looking up anxiously, she gulps, trying not to let the intimidation of the gorgeous man in front of her get to her.

“could i just get some water?” she murmurs so softly that rafe almost doesn’t even hear her.

he nods, watching her curiously. “sure. will that be all for your order?” he questions, raising a brow at her.

as she notices the way he’s watching her, like he’s seeing right through her ‘i’m fine’ facade and her soul, she nods shakily as a shiver rushes through her spine.

“y—yes. thank you.” she mumbles as he nods and says something about her water being out as soon as possible and puts away his pen and notepad.

but, as he walks back to get her water, he turns around and looks at her once more, this time noticing the scared look in her eyes — it's obvious that there’s more to her than she's revealing.

“i say, ‘can you believe it?’ as we’re lyin’ on the couch. the moment, i could see it. yes, yes, i can see it now.”

with a content sigh, [y/n] moves into rafe’s welcoming arms.

as she lays her head on his chest, his chin resting on top of her head, he wraps his arms around her and a sense of calmness — something neither of them have ever felt in their entire lives — fills their hearts.

it was just them, lying on his couch in the living room of his apartment, relaxing.

it’d been a few weeks, after he’d gotten her number and asked her out on a date — they’d been on countless dates, even though she was a little hesitant to get involved with him because of her past.

and now, they're almost completely comfortable around each other.

although, both rafe and [y/n] still have doubts and hesitance on whether this new and recent relationship will work, or even whether they can let their guards down around and let each other in.

but as they hold each other for a moment longer, a startling thought pops into [y/n]’s head and it causes a shaky breath to leave her lips.

noticing the change in her, rafe moves his chin away from her head and angles his head in a way that helps him see her face completely. he also notices her tearful gaze.

“hey… what’s wrong?” he questions, brushing her hair out of her face.

another sigh later, and she’s shaking her head and waving him off. “i—i’m fine. don’t worry about me.” her voice breaks and trembles, causing him to lift her chin up, in order for her to look at him in the face.

he gives her a pointed look, hoping it’ll coax her into telling him what’s wrong.

with another sigh, she finally voices her thoughts, “i just realized that i’m still scared that you’ll find something wrong with me — that you don’t like — and will either hurt me or leave me… ” she trails off, some of the tears actually escaping her hurt eyes.

realization hits him as his eyes soften. “i’m not going to leave or hurt you, okay? let’s just see how this goes.” he murmurs seriously, rubbing a comforting hand over her arms to soothe the upset mood she's in.

sighing once more, she nods, before snuggling further into his embrace, eyes closing.

“do you remember, we were sitting there by the water? you put your arm around me for the first time. you made a rebel of a careless man’s careful daughter. you are the best thing, that’s ever been mine.”

loud giggles leave her lips as he playfully chases her into the water.

“rafe! n—no! don’t you dare think about doing what i think you’re about to do!” [y/n] exclaims, noticing the mischievous glint in his eyes as she holds a hand up in the air.

he smirks in amusement.

then, he runs toward her — despite, her moving back every time he gets closer — and grabs her, lifting her up and running further into the water, before throwing her into the deeper part of the water.

she goes under for a moment, before eventually coming back up.

“r—rafe!” she exclaims, coughing a bit, since some water went into her nose and mouth when she went under.

she glares at him, shivering and trying to remain upset with him.

but then, he breaks into that smile — you know which one, the one that would make any girl’s heart swell — and her pissed-off resolve starts to fade away.

then, he laughs.

“you’re so cute when you try to act mad.” he murmurs, moving closer to her as she moves to stand up, still shivering.

she groans, a smile trying to desperately make its way onto her face.

“rafeeee! you can’t say stuff like that… ” she mumbles, full-on blushing now.

he chuckles at her reaction, before moving his hands up her arms in a repetitive motion, in order to warm her up better.

then, he moves his arm to put around her shoulder and starts walking closer to the shore with her.

as they finally sit back down on the towel, that’s near the water, [y/n] snuggles further into rafe’s chest, a content sigh leaving her lips as she begins to feel at peace.

“thank you.”

“for what?” rafe looks down at her, eyebrows furrowing as he becomes confused on what she’s thanking him for.

[y/n] hesitates for a second. “for showing me how to live life without me feeling like i don’t deserve it.” she murmurs quietly, her voice coming out small.

after hearing her statement, realization hits rafe of what she means — she's talking about her old home life, before she moved away from her family.

her father was a workaholic and not the best person in the world, always snapping at her and her mother.

not only that, but her family was always, always fighting.

and she was always the blame when it came to her family defending their actions — she never got to live the life she deserved.

but now, she can. with rafe.

“of course. you deserve to live your life to the fullest and to always be happy, okay?” he murmurs softly before placing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“flash forward and we’re taking on the world together. and there’s a drawer of my things at your place. you learn my secrets and you figure out why i’m guarded. you say you’ll never make my parents’ mistakes.”

rafe watches in concern as [y/n] struggles to get off of the phone with her family — a family she honestly wants nothing to do with.

with a heavy sigh, she finally hangs up, before making her way over to the kitchen’s table.

“god… ” she mutters, wiping away the fresh tears away from her cheeks.

“angel, what’s going on?” rafe murmurs, moving to sit beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

[y/n] sighs, refusing to look him in the eye — she knows that the second she looks at him, the truth will come tumbling out.

though, rafe doesn’t take offense to this and simply waits for when she’s ready to talk.

and when she does finally look over at him, the tears fall and the stuttering and trembling statements of the truth come out.

rafe’s eyes soften as he calmly and patiently listens to her.

“princess, i hope you know that i would never hurt you like your parents. and i’ll never hurt you the way your dad hurt your mom.” he murmurs seriously, moving his hand to cup one of her cheeks.

“you p—promise?” she trembles, more tears falling.

he nods. “always.”

then, he pulls her in for a hug, allowing her to let everything out.

“but we got bills to pay. we got nothing figured out, when it was hard to take. yes, yes, this is what i thought about.”

she lets out a light giggle when she feels those familiar arms wrapping around her waist as she continues to try to think straight on the numbers she's trying to put together.

"what're you doing?" he murmurs, kissing her neck, before glancing down at the paper that she's holding over the table.

a quick sigh in defeat leaves her lips when he pulls away from her and takes the paper from her and folds it, before putting it in his back pocket.

"you don't need to worry about that right now." he says seriously as she turns around to face him with a stern expression.

he rolls his eyes at her determination and stubbornness. "don't give me that look, sweetheart."

she opens her mouth to defend herself, but he interrupts her, "you don't have to worry about that."

she raises her hands up in the air in clear frustration. "but, i live here! i can't just live here — with you — and not pay for it!"

rafe rolls his eyes — again — at her, becoming frustrated himself. "princess, you don't have to pay for that."

she groans, clenching her eyes shut for a moment, before opening up her eyes and marching over to him.

"yes," she says, tapping his chest with her pointer finger, before continuing on, "i do. i've been living with you for a long while!"

"and," she says, motioning to the living room, where a lot of her stuff is sitting in boxes. "i already have all of my stuff here!"

rafe sighs, knowing that she has a right to feel this way, especially with the way she was raised.

giving her a serious look, he places each of his hands over her shoulders, trying to calm her down and ease her worries. "okay." he simply says.

she knits her eyebrows together in confusion and shock. "okay?"

he nods, chuckling at her shocked reaction. "yes, okay. we'll figure this out. but, for right now, let's just relax and take it one step at a time, okay?"

with a quiet sigh, she nods, letting him lead her into the living room.

"do you remember, we were sitting there by the water? you put your arm around me for the first time. you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter. you are the best thing that's ever been mine."

it was meant to be a quiet, romantic picnic by the water. but, it becomes something else entirely.

something much more carefree and exciting.

rafe had planned this for the past few days, knowing that despite he'd been trying to get her to relax about the bills, she was going to be stressed no matter what.

but, that didn't mean that he couldn't give her a nice evening to distract her.

it really was meant to be serious, but that's exactly what [y/n] didn't want. because she wanted the distraction too.

and she's not quite sure how it happens, but she finds herself letting her guard down and wanting to live in excitement.

it's hard to explain, but rafe makes her happy and he makes her feel like she can actually live without everything she's been through holding her back.

that's exactly why when rafe hands her a bowl of grapes, she grabs a few and jokingly throws them at him.

she giggles when she sees the shocked look on his face, but then a teasing glint fills his eyes and a mischievous smile forms on his lips.

"oh, you're gonna pay for that one, sweetheart!" he says, getting up and preparing to get to her, causing her to squeal in both excitement and shock.

she giggles as she gets up and runs away from him, an insane amount of happiness and peace filling her at the current situation — it's moments like this with rafe that makes life feel worth living.

as she keeps running through the spacious field with tall grass and weeds, she glances back again, only to not see him.

this causes her to stop in confusion and look around.

only when she looks in front of her, does she see him jokingly running towards her.

"no!" she squeals, moving to run in the opposite direction, but he catches up to her and is able to pull her to his chest by wrapping his arms around her waist.

she giggles, sighing in defeat, before groaning in feigned-sadness.

"you got me, cameron."

he chuckles, leaning closer to kiss her shoulder and inhaling her scent, taking in the moment. "yes, i do."

the love in his voice causes her to turn around in his hold, his hands holding her waist as she cups his face in her hands.

maybe she's just in the moment — she doesn't know, and she doesn't care — but she murmurs those three words in honesty, "i love you."

he's shocked for a moment, before leaning closer to press a kiss to her forehead. "i love you, too."

a smile takes over both of their lips.

"do you remember all the city lights on the water? you saw me start to believe for the first time. you made a rebel out of a careless man's careful daughter. you are the best thing that's ever been mine."

a big smile on her face is what distracts rafe from the booming and bright fireworks.

that big smile, paired with the excited and awed glint in her eyes as she admires how the fireworks shine and reflect through the water makes his heart nearly stop.

he should be enjoying the celebratory fireworks, but he's only focused on her, because seeing her happy is everything he's ever wanted — possibly from the first moment he met her, even when she refused to get to know him in the beginning because of how scared she was to let him in, after everything she's been through.

noticing how quiet he is, [y/n] turns to face him, adorable confusion in her eyes as she knits her eyebrows together in concern.

"rafe? what's wrong?"

he's quiet for a moment, before shaking his head with a happy smile on his lips. "nothing."

"you sure?" she asks, still very much confused and worried.

that excitement that she expressed before is long gone now as she starts to ramble, "if something's wrong, we can go. it's okay if you're not feeling these fireworks anymore."

rafe immediately shakes his head, moving to kiss her forehead. "everything's fine. i promise."

"okay... then, what is it? what's on your mind?" she asks, tilting her head to the side in further confusion.

he chuckles, smiling down at her. "i just like seeing my girl happy."

not expecting this, [y/n]'s mouth falls open for a second, before her face turns red, clearly loving being called his girl.

he smirks at this, fully knowing his effect on her.

she sighs and leans her forehead over his, not caring who sees. "rafe, i hope you know you've changed my life and i'm so much more happier for it — with you in it."

those words bring a big smile to his lips. "good, i'm glad."

"oh-oh, oh."

one thing she loves most about being with rafe is how complete and happy she feels around him.

because despite the fact that she believed that she'd be stuck in her trauma for the rest of her life, he's shown her that there's more to life and that she wants what he's given to her.

"and i remember that fight, 2:30 a.m. as everything was slipping right out of our hands. i ran out crying and you followed me out into the street. braced myself for the goodbye. 'cause it's all i've ever known. then you took me by surprise. you said, 'i'll never leave you alone.' (oh)."

it was over something stupid — some small argument that turned into a screaming match.

it was something that caused the both of them to lose their control and snap at the other — that let them lose their cool.

it started with [y/n] just asking him a question — and of course it was about the bills because she wanted to do what she could to pay for her living with him.

then, he'd gotten frustrated. and what was once bickering, turned into something much more worse.

and it's not like they're angry at each other.

[y/n] just couldn't shake the feeling of being like a burden and rafe just wanted to show her that that's not how he sees or feels about her.

and it just didn't feel good for either of them — the insults and frustrated comments they made towards each other only made things worse.

when rafe opens his mouth to say something else, [y/n] quickly turns around and walks over to the door.

this throws him off, making him gape at her in surprise.

"[y/n], where are you going?" he asks, getting up and starting to step towards her, but he doesn't get close to her when she quickly twists the door knob and pulls the door open.

she runs out, and despite the pouring rain, she races into it, running until her feet hurt, to the other side of the apartment.

with breathless gasps and sobs leaving her body, she stops short and falls to her knees with her hands quickly hiding her face behind them with her shoulders shaking.

all she can think about is that she's probably messed everything up.

she just had to get involved with the bills and bring up — once again, for the millionth time — how she needs to pay her share for staying with him.

all she can think about is that as soon as she goes back into his apartment, he's going to break up with her and kick her out with a broken heart.

footsteps stop from behind her, but she doesn't hear it because she's distracted with the negative thoughts in her head.

then, a touch to her shoulder shakes her out of her own head and causes her to shakily stand up and turn around.

but, she doesn't look at him, she keeps her head downcast, refusing to see that disappointed look that's most likely on his face right now.

"hey, look at me." he murmurs softly, his heart hurting at how upset she is — how upset he's made her.

she still doesn't, however.

with a deep sigh, he lifts her chin up, forcing her to look at him. "i'm sorry, baby. i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to hurt you."

he frowns as she takes a deep breath, the tears spilling onto her cheeks.

a shaky breath leaves his lips and his eyes immediately soften, gently swiping away the tears with a tender expression on his face.

"i love you so much, princess. it was never my intention to get so cruel. please, know that." he murmurs, his face quickly forming with an expression of guilt and regret.

she sighs, finally finding the courage to speak, "it's not your fault, rafe. this is on me. i'm the one that's been bombarding you with letting me help with the bills — i just kept pushing."

he tilts his head slightly to the side in confusion.

when she doesn't say anything else, he shakes his head. "hey, this isn't your fault. i shouldn't have gotten so mad at you."

her bottom lip trembles, hating how upset she's getting around him.

"it is, though. i've messed everything up and our relationship is going to fall apart because i always destroy everything i touch." she whispers this emotional statement, but rafe hears it clearly.

he sighs, stepping closer to her and gently cupping her cheeks in his hands. "baby, when you told me the truth about your family, i told you then that i'd never hurt you like that." he says seriously, causing her to knit her eyebrows together.

"i promised you that. and that includes not leaving you, okay?" he murmurs, frowning when he sees more tears fill her eyes.

"i'm not leaving you — ever. i meant it when i said i loved you, and i still do."

she still doesn't believe it for a second, but when he doesn't say anything else and his face stays with an expression of honesty, she changes her mind — she believes him now.

"you promise that?" she asks quietly, her voice tight.

he nods, his face still filled with honesty, before he pulls her into him and wraps his arms around her body, while her face falls into his chest and her arms go around his back.

"we're going to figure this out, i promise."

shockingly, those words do just enough to comfort her in the moment.

"you said, 'i remember how we felt, sitting by the water. and every time i look at you, it's like the first time. i fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter. she is the best thing that's ever been mine.'"

it was unexpected to say the least.

she didn't even know how they found her — she hadn't told many people from her old town where she'd moved.

but, somehow, they found her.

the only thing she hates most, is that rafe gets dragged into it — she doesn't want this for him.

but, she and rafe had gone out, to go get some breakfast and then get some groceries, since they've been running low on a lot of things.

and on their way home, [y/n] almost trips, causing rafe to immediately catch her in his arms when they both realize that it's because one of her shoes is untied.

as rafe bends down to tie her shoes, she rolls her eyes at his joking manners.

"there you go, my lady!" he says with a joking tone of voice as he stands back up.

she giggles, rolling her eyes at him. "you're so silly right now, rafe cameron."

he smiles, happy to see her smile as he leans in to place a kiss on her forehead.

despite the fact that they're in the middle of the path of the sidewalk, the couple doesn't even take notice of the people walking past them and giving them dirty looks.

"you're so cute." he murmurs, pulling her body into his and wrapping one of his arms around hers, before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

this only causes her to giggle in response, a happy smile taking over on her face.

"you really are, though." he says when he pulls away from her.

she shrugs, not quite believing him herself.

he sighs, rolling his eyes at her clear refusal to believe him.

"you are, sweetheart," he says seriously, now moving his hands to hold her face in his hands. "you are quite literally the best thing to ever happen to me."

her mouth falls open in surprise, before her cheeks flush red and a small smile forms on her lips.

"you really mean that?" she asks softly, tilting her head to the side and watching him closely.

he nods quietly, causing a happy glint to fill her eyes and for her smile to turn into something bigger.

"i feel the same about you, cameron."

the both of them find themselves stuck in the moment, but when someone else passes them, they remember where they are.

rafe steps away from her, but not before intertwining their hands together and leading her down the pathway that's near the apartment building.

but, when they finally get there, two people standing outside makes [y/n] freeze in place.

rafe turns to face her with concern on his face. "hey, what's wrong?" he asks, noticing what she's looking at, making him turn to look too.

not knowing who they are, he turns back to face her. "who are they? do you know them?"

she gulps nervously as the unknown couple starts walking towards them.

catching rafe's nervous face, she quietly explains in a tight voice, "they're my parents."

rafe's once concerned face shifts into one of instinctive-protectiveness.

when he turns back around, her parents finally step in front of them.

[y/n] gulps nervously, barely even noticing the way rafe steps in front of her protectively with one of his arms in front of her — she's too distracted.

"you need to leave." rafe says, before either of [y/n]'s parents can speak first.

her mother is startled, whereas her father becomes quickly irritated. "who do you think you are? we're only here to speak to our daughter!"

her mother, despite everything she's put [y/n] through, nervously touches her ex-husband's shoulder to stop him from starting anything, especially in public.

he, however, harshly shrugs her hand off of his shoulder with an angry look in his eyes.

rafe turns to check on his girlfriend, only to notice the scared and nervous look in her eyes.

seeing this only makes him even more irritated — he hates to see her happy mood from before become sour and sad.

"you seriously need to go. you don't get to pop up back into her life after putting her through hell." he tries his best to stay calm.

this only angers [y/n]'s father; he scoffs angrily, motioning to his daughter. "[y/n], tell this idiot to leave and let us talk!"

[y/n]'s mother winces, nervously glancing around them, noticing that people, who're passing by, are stopping to watch.

somehow, though, [y/n] finds the courage to shake her head insistently. "no. he stays."

this only aggravates her father even more.

"are you really going to let him talk to us like this?!"

she flinches, stepping back.

however, seeing this is just enough for rafe. "you guys need to go. [y/n] has moved on from what you guys put her through and she doesn't need this or any more surprise visits. she doesn't owe you anything."

her father goes to say more, but his ex-wife stops him by grabbing his shoulder to hold him back.

rafe turns back to face [y/n], grabbing her hand and holding it in his own gently.

a soft look fills his face as he speaks his next words, "your daughter is an amazing woman, despite how much you've hurt her. and i love her," he says, causing her to smile in appreciation and love, before he turns back to face her parents again. "and she doesn't need this from you."

"so, do her a favor and leave. and don't come back." he says tensely, still holding her back from behind her.

"excuse me?!" [y/n]'s father exclaims angrily, moving to step forward, not scaring rafe one bit, considering he's use to abusive men like his father.

rafe stays standing in front of his girlfriend in a protective stance, but her mother is the one who reacts before her ex-husband can.

a look of defeat fills her face as she struggles to pull him away from his daughter and her boyfriend.

"let's just go. this was a mistake." she says, still struggling to hold him back.

finding the courage, [y/n] says the next thing that — shockingly — convinces him to leave, "dad, please. just go," she anxiously flinches when she sees the angry look in his eyes, after what she says next, "i'm sorry, but i don't want anything to do with either of you. and you both owe it to me to do that for me."

with a shocked expression, he lets his ex-wife pull him away from them.

when they're finally gone, rafe and [y/n] turn to each other, allowing her the final moment to break.

she drops the grocery bags to the ground, beginning to breathe heavily with tears spilling to her cheeks.

rafe sighs, knowing what she needs as he pulls her into his chest, dropping his own bags to the ground gently.

"it's okay, baby. they're gone." he murmurs quietly, finally wrapping his arms around her body and allowing her to feel what she needs to.

"hold on, make it last. hold on, never turn back. (hold on), you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter. (hold on), you are the best thing that's ever been mine."

it wasn't a good time. not for either of them.

[y/n] knew that getting into a relationship so soon with rafe was bound to cause some issues for her.

especially with how she struggled in the beginning to open up and let him in and to begin to love him because that would mean letting down her guard and getting attached to him, until he'd eventually leave, because that's all that ever happens with her.

but, rafe is different — he promised he'd never leave or hurt her, and he meant that, and he still does.

it was just one of those days with an intense episode and this time, she can't control it.

and rafe having his own experience with mental health is able to see it from a mile away. and he's able to be there for her — and refuses to leave her — despite what she expects.

he walks past the hallway of the apartment, only to find her on the floor, against the couch, in the living room.

she's shaking and her face is practically beat red from crying and her breathing is panicked.

"baby?" he calls, causing her to immediately glance up in surprise.

her mouth falls open, her eyes filled with panic, but she quickly looks down and hides her face behind her hands.

"i'm fine, rafe. just leave me alone." she says, loud enough for him to hear, hoping that he'll listen because there's no way he'll still see her the same if he witnesses any more of this episode that she's clearly having right now.

this doesn't do anything to deter him.

in fact, it only concerns him more as he races over to her in concern.

her breathing only becomes much more heavy and rushed as he kneels in front of her.

"princess, talk to me." he murmurs quietly, internally struggling on how to be there for her without setting her off — he knows too well how it feels to be so consumed with pain, but to snap at anyone because of it.

she doesn't say anything, but her hands shake as she desperately tries to hold in everything she feels, in order to not snap at her boyfriend.

"hey," he murmurs, finally reaching over to gently pull her hands away from her face. "you can talk to me. you don't have to go through this alone." he murmurs, quickly becoming much more worried when he sees the way she's struggling to breathe.

the look in his eyes that are filled with both concern and love gives her the courage to finally talk, "r—rafe, i can't... i can't b—breathe... "

that pressure on her chest becomes incredibly tighter as she clenches her eyes shut in further panic.

he sighs, soothingly running one of his hands over one side of her hair in worry.

"okay... do you know if you're having a panic attack or anxiety attack, or is this an episode?" he asks genuinely, grabbing one of her hands and rubbing his thumb over it soothingly as he waits for her answer.

she shakes her head in more stress, shaking. "i—i don't know... i think... i—it might be b—both."

rafe sighs stressfully, before letting go of her hand to move to sit beside her.

"okay," he says in determination to help her as he grabs her hands to hold gently. "what i want you to do, is breathe with me, okay?"

she breathlessly nods, her eyes following his hand that's taking one of hers to hold over his chest and over his heart.

he counts to three, before nodding along with her as he starts to breathe calmly and deeply.

a shaky breath leaves her lips as she breathes deeply and calmly with him, but it doesn't feel like she's actually breathing on the inside.

noticing this, rafe nods, still very much determined. "okay, this is okay," he murmurs, holding her hand with his over hers that's over his heart. "just keep going, okay? you can do this."

she nods, still struggling to breathe with searing tears falling repetitively.

"it's okay. just close your eyes, and focus on my heartbeat and just try to breathe." he murmurs, trying to ignore how worried he is about her — he needs to be strong for her to get through this.

closing her eyes, she tries to take a deep breath and listens to the calm and normal beating of his heart.

after a while, she begins to calm down with her breaths returning to normal.

taking another deep breath, she sighs in relief and leans into him. "thank you, rafe."

he nods, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

after a few more minutes, she pulls away from him with an embarrassed expression clear on her face.

"i'm sorry. i hate that you saw me like that." she apologizes, glancing down at her now fidgeting hands, feeling deep in her bones that he'll see her completely different, now that he's seen her in this state.

rafe shakes his head at her, grabbing one of her hands with one of his and lifting her chin up with the other. "hey, don't apologize."

she opens her mouth to say more, but he cuts her off, "you're my girl, baby. when you hurt, i hurt. this is what i'm here for."

his words warm her heart and tears fill her eyes.

"you promise that you don't see me differently now?" she asks in barely a whisper.

moving his hands to her cheeks, he smiles at her with a fond smile. "baby, there's not a single thing in the entire world that could ever make me see you differently other than the girl i'm in love with and love with my whole heart."

a small, audible gasp leaves her lips at hearing that statement — this is the first time he's ever admitted to being in love with her.

i mean, sure, he's told her countless times that he loves her, but he's never told her until now that he's in love with her.

"really?" she asks in a whisper, once again.

he nods, smiling at the happy smile that takes over her face.

with no other words exchanged, [y/n] turns to lean her body against him again, only this time they're cuddling each other and closer to each other more than before.

"do you believe it? (yeah, yeah, yeah). we're gonna make it now, (yeah, yeah, yeah). and i can see it, (yeah, yeah). i can see it now."

"are you sure about this?" rafe asks her, his voice filled with nerves.

she turns around to face him, immediately noticing how nervous he is.

"as long as you are," she says, placing her hands on each side of his neck as he leans his body against the side of his car. "seriously, you tell me right now, if you're having doubts. we can always do this a different time."

she is nothing but supportive, something he notices immediately.

the situation that's stressing him out in question? it's about visiting outer banks, to meet with his sister and her friends.

things have been better with them, after he got the help he needed and helped pay for the actions he committed.

but, being on good terms with them isn't what's worrying him — it's the fact that he's going to have to run into his father at some point.

now, the truth is, rafe told [y/n] the truth about everything that happened in the obx when the two of them started getting really serious — he didn't want to lie to her.

but, another thing he's worried about, is him introducing [y/n] to everyone — he worries that they'll think that he doesn't deserve her.

because if they believe that, then he'll have to believe it too.

but, seeing the lost look in his eyes — which is clearly telling her that he's stuck in his head right now — [y/n] catches his attention by wrapping her arms around his neck.

as he wraps his arms around her waist, she leans closer to him, leaning her forehead over his, before pulling away with an infectious smile.

"it's going to be okay. but, it's your decision," she murmurs seriously. "but, if we do go, just know that i'll be there with you the whole time — you won't have to go through this alone."

her words are what helps him make his decision.

"if you're with me, i think we can go."

"yeah?" she asks, just to make sure.

"yeah." he says, confirming it with a smile.

a big smile spreads over her lips, nodding in clear excitement.

"okay," she says in confirmation. "let's go, then."

with that, she pulls away from him, giving him a look that really does prove that every word she said to him is something that she means completely.

this is all he needs to agree.

before they go, however, he pulls her back towards her to press a sweet kiss to her lips — one that she returns.

she pulls away with a big smile. "i love you, cameron."

he laughs in agreement. "and i love you."

563 notes · View notes

futfemfantasies · 1 year

Text

I Need You \\ alexia putellas x morgan!reader

July 2022

International break wasn’t your favourite time. Since you and Alexia play for different national teams, you are competing in different competitions over the summer. You’re playing in the CONCACAF championship and Alexia in the Euros. Of course you text, call and facetime each other but on some days it’s just not enough.

You are currently at breakfast sitting at the table containing Alex, Charlie, Kelley, Mal, Sonnett and Kristie. You all somehow got onto the topic of everyone’s partners and the girls are teasing you about Alexia.

“Auntie Y/N/N, where’s Aunt Lex?” Your niece Charlie questions as she climbs onto your lap, visibly upset.

“She plays for Spain remember bubba. She’s in England for the Euros”

“Oh” Charlie frowns as you tighten your arms around the 2 year old.

“But you are going to visit her soon okay?” Charlie nods and cuddles into you more.

You get back to eating breakfast, with Charlie stealing some of your toast when your phone rings from next to you. Charlie looks down and gets excited because she sees Alexia’s face on the contact photo. You move away to the side of the room, away from your teammates so you can hear Alexia.

“Bebé? I need you here. It hurts” Alexia pleads, almost sounding like she’s been crying.

“What hurts Ale? What happened” You start to panic and start pacing in the converted dining hall, which some of your teammates become worried as you are speaking Spanish fast.

“My knee. I did my ACL. I’ve been waiting for this for years and now it’s out the window” Tears start forming in your eyes and you blink them away.

“I’ll talk to Vlatko and he should let me come home, seeing as it is a family emergency. If not, it’ll be after the first game. I’m so sorry hermosa” You sit down against a wall, slightly away from your table.

Vlatko looks over at the mention of his name. You wave him off and he nods in consideration. You talk to Alexia for a few more minutes until she says Mapi is there. You tell Alexia to put Mapi on the phone.

“Maps you take care of her until I get there. I don’t care what you do but stay with her please” You beg your best friend.

“Sí, I’ll do everything I can Y/N/N, you know that. We’ll see you soon. Ale wants to say something” You hear some mumbling then your loving fiancés voice again.

“Please hurry mi amor. I really need you” Alexia begs you.

You’ve never heard her voice like that in the whole 5 years of being together. You know in that moment, you need to get to her. And you need to get to her fast. You turn around to see Alex gesturing that they need you back.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can baby. Te amo mucho hermosa and I’ll see you soon” You say as you walk back to the table. You throw your phone down and rest your head on your arms.

“Everything okay?” Alex whispers as she leans into you and Charlie attempts to climb back on your lap.

“Lex tore her ACL. Mapi texted me while I was speaking to her, she hasn’t even cried yet”

“Let’s listen to the staff so you can get outta here”

After the short meeting, Vlatko pulls you aside and says you can go to Alexia. He says you can come back and play when you’re ready, if you’re ready. You thank him and Vlatko gets everyones attention so you can make the announcement.

“Can I have everyone’s attention? I just want to say how proud I am of everyone here. As your co-captain I really hate to do this to you all but I have no choice. I know that you all will succeed and listen to Becky. I am leaving camp because Alexia has been injured very badly about 3 hours ago. She will most likely need surgery so I am leaving to hopefully be there by the time she wakes up. I’m not sure if I’ll come back for any games, but ultimately it will decide on how Alexia is doing”

You say your goodbyes to everyone before racing up to your room and gathering your things together. You book a flight to London and get the hotel name off of Mapi. You get changed out of your USA gear and order an uber. You wheel your luggage to the foyer of the hotel when you hear a little voice call your name.

“Aunt Y/N/N!” You turn around and see Charlie running as fast as she can towards you. What you don’t see is the entire team at the entrance of the conference room watching on. You bend down and scoop the nearly 3 year old in your arms.

“Where you going?” Charlie inquires.

“Auntie Ale hurt her knee baby so I have to go make sure she’s okay” You explain.

“Okay, give Auntie Ale this?” Charlie holds her toy you both got her when she was born.

“Mr Monkey will help her knee gets better!” The team laughs at Charlie and you put it in your backpack.

“He’s all safe in here. I’ll see you soon okay?”

You say goodbye to your sister before getting in an Uber to the airport. On the way to the airport, you text Alexia for a while and she only replies with one or two word answers, this is worse than you thought. You called Alexia’s sister Alba and she explains what’s going to happen with the surgery and what hospital. You ask Alba to text you any updates while you’re travelling and she replies with ‘of course I will y/n/n 😊’.

After the usual airport routine of bag drops and long security and custom lines, you finally sit in the seat you’ll be in for the next 12 hours. You quickly text Alba to let her know you’re on your way. The plane lands 12 hours later, you arrive in a gloomy London. After collecting your bags, you into hop into the closest taxi and give the driver the hotel name. When you arrive, you ask the taxi man to stay as you’ll only be a few minutes. Thankfully he agrees and you make a mental note to left a big tip for him later. You check into the hotel and left your bags behind the desk. You remember to get Mr Monkey out of your backpack before going back to the taxi. You tell the taxi driver the hospital and watch the scenery as it passes by. The taxi driver pulls up to an entrance and you give him all your cash before running inside. You look around and can’t seem to find the desk. After what feels like turning a million and one corners, you are met with the in patients desk.

“Hi, my wife Alexia Putellas came in. Where is she?”

“Ah yes, let me search that for you...she’s just gotten out of surgery a few hours ago so you can wait in the family area just around the corner”

You thank the nurse and take a deep breath before going to the family area. Palms sweaty and slightly out of breath, you turn the corner and see Alba and Eli. You walk quickly and sit across from them. Eli looks up at you with a relieved look on her face.

“Thank goodness you’re here sweetheart. She won’t let any of us in until she sees you first” Eli tells you and you frown at the comment. You are confused at the same time because Alexia is really close with her mom and sister.

You get the room number from Eli and start to make your way to Alexia’s room. You count down the room numbers until you reach room 1411. You take a deep breath before softly knock on the door. You open it slowly to see Alexia looking out the window, not bothering to see who’s coming in.

“Mi amor” Alexia’s head whips around and her eyes soften. Like she’s relieved that you’re there with her and not another nurse or doctor.

You walk around to her good side to give her a tight hug. After a few minutes, you try to pull away but Alexia doesn’t let go. Eventually, she lets you go and attempts to move over in her bed so you can stay as close to her as possible.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you” Alexia nods and you give her a kiss on her forehead before carefully manoeuvring yourself in her bed.

“I’m sorry I took so long. The plane was delayed then there was a stor-”

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters. I’m sorry I pulled you away from your team” Alexia frowns after she realises what happened.

“Baby, you are more important than anyone or any soccer tournament. If you’re hurting, I’m going to be on the first plane out” Alexia cuddles into you more and you kiss her forehead.

“Have you seen Eli or Alba yet?” You feel Alexia shake her head and you ask if she wants to see them. You give Alexia a soft kiss before going to get her mom and sister.

A few hours later, after conversations on Alexia’s rehab and you going back to Mexico, Alba reaches behind you and holds Mr Monkey, looking confused.

“What’s this?” You look at Alexia and she slightly smiles as she knows exactly who it came from.

“When I was leaving, Charlie asked where I was going and I said I need to see Aunt Ale, she hurt her knee. Charlie said Mr Monkey can help her knee get better” Alba gives it to Alexia and she tucks it under her arm. You take a sneaky photo and send it to Alex to show Alexia.

A nurse comes in and says visiting hours are over but mentions you can stay due to being Alexia’s partner. Eli and Alba bid their goodbyes to you both and promise to visit first thing tomorrow. As soon as Alba and Eli leave, Alexia breaks down in tears. She tightens her arm around you and you do the same around her. You just hold Alexia and kiss her forehead while whispering sweet nothings to her.

“Let it all out babe. Let it all out” You say trying to comfort Alexia.

After a while, she lifts her head and sees the massive tear stain on your grey hoodie.

“I’m sorry mi amor” Alexia apologies after seeing your hoodie.

“It’ll dry Ale. More importantly, are you okay?” You asked worriedly.

“I am now. I just needed to let it all out. Thank you hermosa. Te amo mucho” Alexia expresses before kissing you softly.

“I love you too Ale. We will get through this together” You hold Alexia tight until you both falling asleep.

February 2023 (lets pretend its not the World Cup year)

7 months later and Alexia and you are finally coming back to training together. You park your newly bought Cupra in the Barca car park and you look over at Alexia. She was staring at the training fields in front and is frozen in place, only blinking and breathing. Your hand on her thigh makes Alexia jump and look at you with anxiety filled eyes.

“What’s wrong Ale?” You ask softly, turning in your seat, facing Alexia fully.

“I’m scared. What if it happens again?” Alexia replies looking.

“Mi amor look at me” Alexia looks up and you cup her cheeks gently.

“You are Alexia Putellas Segura. You will kick trainings arse today. I am so proud of you mi amor” Alexia leans forward and kisses you before you hear knocking on both sides of the car.

You both pull away to see Mapi and Ingrid laughing to themselves. You and Alexia get out and you quickly grab both of your bags.

“Bebé, I’m not on crutches anymore. I can get my own bag”

“Just because you can baby, doesn’t mean you should” As you walk away, Alexia’s heart skips a beat at the gesture.

You all walk into the locker room and the girls in there cheer at their captain walking through the door for the first time in a while. She tells them to quit it and they stop immediately, with you trying to hide your giggle at your cubby. Everyone gets changed and walks out to the field where now all the staff are clapping her out. Alexia turns to you and hides in your neck.

“Embrace it mi amor, la reina is back” You whisper to her before kissing her head.

Alexia participates in a few light drills with the team before going over for her 1v1 training. She gives you a kiss on the cheek before starting to jog around the field. You and the other girls start scrimmage and Jonotan puts you, Kiera, Mapi, Ingrid and Cata as one team and Lucy, Oshoala, Pina, Rolfö and Panos on the other.

The scrimmage was going well until you went to pivot around Lucy and that’s when it all went wrong. Lucy catches you as you go down and you instantly felt pain and you screamed as you went down. Alexia stops her drills as she looks over and see you on the ground. She apologises to the staff and runs over to you as quickly as she can. You couldn’t stop holding your right knee with one hand and banging your fist one the ground with the other. The medics tell you to turn over and you block out the sun with your hands but also wipe your tears away subtly. You feel familiar hands on your back and you look to see Alexia. The medics and a few of your teammates lift you on the stretcher that takes you straight to the hospital. Alexia gives one look to Jonotan and he nods at her to say ‘forget training and go with her’. Alexia runs into the training room and grabs her phone and a little something special that will cheer you up later on that she hides in her hoodie.

After countless hours in the hospital, it came to the conclusion that you torn your ACL. You are exactly how Alexia was, closed off and not speaking to anyone except each other. You rest your head on Alexia’s chest and cuddle up to her the best you can, when you both hear a soft knock on the door. You look towards it and see Lucy, Keira, Mapi and Ingrid. You wave them in and balloons, teddy bears and flowers decorated your view.

“What did they say?” Lucy asks.

“ACL” All 4 of your closest friends winced at the three letters then instantly got a sad look on their faces.

You all converse until a nurse comes in to tell you that visiting hours are over. All the girls hug you tightly and say they’ll visit after the game tomorrow. Alexia leans down and gives you a sweet kiss.

“We will get through this together mi amor. Te amo mucho”

“Te amo Ale” They all start to walk out of the room, then Alexia remembered something.

“Oh bebé, so your knee is all better”

Alexia places Mr Monkey with your phone next to you. You smile at Ale and decide to send your sister photos of your condition.

Lex 👯‍♀️❤️:

(selfie of you and Mr Monkey, photo of your leg propped up)

couples who get ACL injuries together, stay together ✌️🥲

#barcelona femeni x reader woso #woso soccer #woso x reader #uswnt x reader #espwnt x reader #alexia putellas x reader #womens soccer #woso imagine #woso imagines #fcb femeni #woso

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carpentersghost · 1 year

Text

Champ of Pain [One] // Sam Carpenter

Summary: Over a decade has passed since the last Woodsboro murders. This time around, Ghostface brings back more than just violence and bloodshed. He brought her back.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: This takes place during the events of Scream 5, so there are no spoilers for Scream 6! There's no explicit sexual content but I'd prefer for whoever reads this to be 18+ especially since Scream 5 is already rated R. It's going to be split into parts, so enjoy part one!

Warnings: Violence, language, sexual references, drug/alcohol use

Two / Complete Masterlist

It didn’t take much for you to hop onto the next direct flight to Woodsboro. The minute after you heard the words “Ghostface mask” was the minute you booked the ticket. As you rode the plane to your hometown, you tried your best to distract yourself. Flicking through the pages of your book or the movie selections was virtually useless. The last time there was a Ghostface attack you were merely a freshman in high school. And though you didn’t personally know any of the people that got attacked, it impacted the way you saw everything after. Now even more, especially because the first of the latest attacks was on Tara Carpenter, the younger sister of your former best friend. At least that’s what you settled on calling her since you weren’t sure where you stood as of five years ago.

The drive from the airport was everything but silent as Chad and Mindy caught you up on the rest of the attacks on the way to their house. Because of the several years that you lived in Woodsboro, and being friends with Sam at the time, you had gotten the opportunity to help babysit Tara and her friend group– which included the Meeks-Martin twins. After graduating from Woodsboro High, you didn’t keep in touch with anyone since you weren’t particularly close to your parents, opting to start a new life in New York. You promised Sam that you’d come back to visit her, but that was before she left without a goodbye; leaving crumbs of abandonment. That is until you remembered them, the twins and their mother. You got so close that you flew back to your hometown almost every break during college to spend time with them. It soon became obvious that they became your family.

As the car came to a halt in their driveway, Chad informed you everyone was meeting up there at the request of Sam. Your heart sped up knowing that in just minutes you’d be face to face with not only your former friend, but the truth. The truth that’s been kept buried in your heart since the day you heard she left. Surely, you thought, the feelings are all gone. You weren’t in love with Sam anymore. You couldn’t be. Besides, this should be the last thing on your mind considering she was attacked just last night by the same person who attacked her sister.

There was no time left to think about anything as the group started to pour in. And you made sure to hug them each tightly, not exactly sure how they’re all feeling with all of these attacks. After settling down you sit down next to Wes, complimenting his new look. “Thanks,” he smiled gently, as you ruffled his hair.

“So, how do you know so much about the Stab movies?” a voice questioned from the hallway.

“Runs in her family,” another voice responded, this one more familiar than the one before.

That’s when Mindy comes into view. “Randy was our uncle,” she explained, blowing a kiss to the portrait of her late uncle on the mantle. A side of your lips perked up at her action, hearing many stories about Randy throughout the years from his sister. Your eyes soon wander to the person following Mindy. “You said to bring everybody,” the twin gestured to all of you on the couch as two other people followed after Sam. One of them being a Woodsboro legend, and your former neighbor from when you still lived here.

Amber didn’t seem pleased to be there, Chad sent a wave, Liv tried to follow suit but fell short, Wes’ attempt at looking comfortable felt awkward, and then there was you. A glint strayed across your eyes as you took in the woman before you. Just as you expected, Sam looked as gorgeous as ever; causing you to unconsciously smile. That was until the two of you met each other’s gaze. Analyzing the older Carpenter’s face, you could have sworn the uneasiness was replaced by joy for a second. Unfortunately, you blinked so you weren’t too sure.

“Hey,” her gaze traveled through the group, voice shaky. It was obvious to everyone that she was nervous.

Martha came in not a second later, sporting a tray of popcorn and snacks. “Ooh, suspects!” a cheeky smile betrayed the words pouring from her lips. She put the tray down as she said, “My brother would be so proud.”

Dewey leaned forward a bit, catching the woman’s attention. “Hey, Martha,” his smile appeared for the first time since his arrival at the Meeks-Martin residence.

Her already present grin grew even bigger at the sight of the familiar face. “Dewey! Hi!” She greeted him with a quick hug as she took in his features. “You look…” the mother of two couldn’t think of a kind word, opting to end the awkward silence with a tight-lipped smile.

The former cop didn’t want to make it worse, simply replying with “yeah.”

Unlucky for him, Martha felt the need to overcompensate. “How’s the wife?” You hid your eyes behind your palm while others groaned.

She then whipped her head towards you, seeing as Mindy and Chad were the ones to pick you up from the airport. Her hands reached out to you, helping you stand up, and then enveloping you in the tightest of hugs. “I haven’t seen you since you graduated last May, you look great!”

You could feel your neck start to heat up at the words. You were never good at taking compliments. “Thank you,” you whispered as the hug was still happening, your eyes wandered over to Sam once again. Her eyes met yours, as she sent a small wave in your direction. As Martha let you go, you sent a nod over to Sam. It wasn’t a grand gesture but there are bigger things at hand right now.

“Okay, mom, we’re good,” Chad interrupted with a thumbs up. “Thank you.” With that, she got the hint and left the room; but not before throwing daggers at her son.

It didn’t take long before all eyes were on the older Carpenter sister. “I asked Mindy to call everybody here, because there’s something I have to tell you.” Sam’s eyes are planted on you; even though her instinct told her to be dodgy. In all your years of knowing her, she’s never had to force herself to keep eye contact more. It’s like she was trying to prove something to herself, and to you.

After a quick debrief, and video reminding you all about the 1996 Woodsboro murders, the news that Sam shared hadn’t sunk in.

“So, let me get this straight,” Chad stole everyone’s attention away from the picture of Woodsboro’s infamous killer that was sitting on the television screen. “You’re saying you’re the daughter of Billy Loomis,” he pointed at the raven-haired woman, eyebrows furrowed. “And what?” he continues, “that one of us is the killer?”

Sam’s gaze traveled across the group from where she was sitting, though never fully meeting yours. “The killer told me he knew my secret,” she remained firm with her theory. “He attacked Tara to lure me back here,” her mind remembering last night’s attack on her in the hospital.

“But then why immediately go and murder some douche-nozzle that was stalking Liv?” Chad countered, admiring his girlfriend for a second.

Before anyone got a chance to answer, Wes chipped in. “Why does it have to be one of us? What about Deputy Dewey here? Maybe he’s the killer.” Now all eyes were on Dewey. “No offense.”

“None taken, but what’s my motive?” He straightened up, the former cop was intrigued by the theory. Without skipping a beat the blond fired off more than enough reasons why Dewey would be a safe bet to suspect. And it was safe to say that Dewey felt every one of those reasons hit straight for his heart. “Well, maybe you’re the killer, because that cut deep.” And he went back to slouching on the couch, recovering from the words.

It was then that you noticed Sam reaching for the hand of the guy next to you. An unfamiliar feeling began brewing in the pit of your stomach. You shoved the emotion away. With Sam’s shoulders losing their tension at the hand holding, the remaining inkling ceased to exist almost immediately. It was clear that he was Sam’s new safe space. You couldn’t help but be happy for her.

“That douche-nozzle is connected,” Amber announced, “I googled him. His mom is Leslie Macher,” she trailed off. “Stu Macher’s sister.”

At the newfound information, you rub your eyes, trying to piece together a broken puzzle.

“Who’s Stu Macher?” You and Sam shared a look at Liv’s question.

A whispered “Oh my god,” slipped away from Mindy’s lips.

“He’s Billy Loomis’ accomplice, a real loony tune” the former sheriff explained before Mindy could tear her a new one.

A spark hit Sam as her brain went to work. “So, the first three attacks are all on people related to the original killers.”

The same spark that hit the elder Carpenter, now hit one of the Meeks-Martin twins. “Oh, my god,” Mindy lifted from her seat, sitting upright. “He’s making a requel.” And with that, she lost everyone. “Or a legacyquel. Fans are torn on the terminology,” but that wasn’t much better as everyone continued looking at one another hoping someone understood.

The other twin spoke up, “Please, speak English.”

After Mindy’s explanation of what’s occurring ends, Sam’s hand balls into a fist before falling apart. “Are you telling me that I’m caught in the middle of fan-fucking-fiction?”

The twin slowly approached the woman, wanting to hide her enthusiasm for the horror genre. “Not just in the middle, Sam.”

“You’re the star.” You finished off Mindy’s sentence staring blankly at the floor, missing the way Sam analyzed you from top to bottom. You also missed Richie doing the same; his mind ran laps on who you were and what business you had doing there.

Liv, wanting to get back on track, probed for the requel rules. “Going by the pattern, whoever it is has to be connected to someone that came before.”

All signs pointed towards Dewey. “I’m starting to regret coming here,” he retreated back into himself.

Wes grew frantic, seeing as his mom was a character in one of the Stab movies that the killer is desperately trying to recreate. “No one cares about the shitty inferior sequels, Wes. You’re safe,” Mindy reassured the boy sitting next to you. “With Randy as our uncle, though, you and I are probably screwed.”

With the monotone voice, you’d almost think she was joking. This caused Chad’s brain to short circuit, not knowing whether to laugh or go into hiding. “Or,” Richie redirected the conversation. “You’re the killer and this whole elaborate monologue is just to cover your tracks.”

With clenched teeth, you attempted to subdue any violent thoughts you held towards the guy next to you. ‘How fucking dare he accuse Mindy of being the killer?’ you thought, hands balling into fists as you begin seeing red.

Before anything could happen, what Mindy said next sent chills down everybody’s spines. “I think it’s pretty clear who the killer is at this point,” she grinned as if it’s completely obvious to everyone but herself.

“Who?” Sam’s eyes spread wide, wanting to know the end-all answer to who sent her sister to the hospital.

“You,” the horror expert informed. “It makes perfect requel sense.”

Looking for any room to breathe, Sam turned for someone to disagree but she found no one. Sighing, she stood up and bolted out the door. “Fuck this.” As she reached for her car door, Sam heard footsteps close behind her. “I’ll meet you back at the motel,” spilled out of her before she realized it was you that followed her. “Y/N,” your name came out gently, it was as if the raven-haired girl worried it’d break.

“I thought you were…” Sam’s gaze turned to the person behind you. You followed suit. It was none other than her boyfriend. Her eyes traveled back to you, her features turned to stone after catching a glimpse of Richie. “I need some space,” she opened the car door, getting ready to speed away. If there was one thing Sam knew she had to be good at, it was that.

You nodded, making progressive steps to her until your hand rested on the door frame, near hers. “I know,” the reassurance landed softly on Sam’s ears. “I know you’re not the killer, I’ll make sure they know that too. You wouldn’t do that to her.”

If there was one thing you knew Sam was good at, it was protecting her sister the best she could. She wouldn’t lead her in harm’s way, much less be the harm. The scowl she carried became weak. Her fingers made a reach for yours, before she stopped herself. “I’m sorry,” were the last words she said before pushing your hand away, getting in the car, and driving to who knows where.

She didn’t even bother listening to Richie’s pleas to wait as you headed back into the residence. He gave up after shouting, “the first fucking rule of these movies is don’t split up.” Instead, he began making his way to the motel, groaning along the path.

After two minutes of vouching for Sam’s innocence, almost everyone agreed that the woman had nothing to do with the killings. Amber was the one to hold her ground, only settling because she had to leave and you were blocking the exit.

Once she left, the remaining five people, aside from you, glanced at one another. If they knew one thing to be true, it’s that you were nowhere near being over Sam. But they wouldn’t dare bring that up for discussion, knowing you thought you’d been secretive all those years before.

You and Sam had known each other since you were in diapers. During the early years of your friendship the two of you had almost everything in common; from wanting to be doctors when you grew up to realizing going to medical school was more schooling than you wanted.

There was a time when being at Sam’s house became more natural than breathing. You were always over, not expected to return home after a certain point; either working on assignments, being hopeless romantics about your nonexistent relationships, or helping babysit Tara and her friends. It didn’t get lost on you when you noticed your heart began to beat for Sam. It was as clear as day to you. ‘How could I not fall for Sam?’ you thought. You didn’t just like her for everything you had in common, you loved her for everything that set her apart.

This was proven when Sam found out the awful truth, the one thing she kept from you back then. The truth that caused her to sprout lies, pushing you away. No matter what deceit she planted, you always found the root to her heart. Sam used to believe she had one soft spot, namely for her sister. But every time you showed up at her door, she was reminded that she had two.

Even then, the two of you convinced only yourselves that the feelings didn’t run that deep. That’s how it was until the raven-haired woman made away in silence. She knew if she stayed friends with you any longer, she’d fly to New York and have more than one reason for wanting to run into your arms.

reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated. thanks for reading!! <3

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lucifitzgerald · 3 months

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chicago

Luci checks her email as soon as she slips into a car off the jet to head to their airbnb. She glances over at Aiden, a soft smile on her lips--the flight was so smooth, practically a blink of an eye compared to some of the other ones she's taken. She knows that he's probably thinking she shouldn't have come on this trip but...she couldn't sit at home after the whole Scott thing.

She took her day off, she didn't even work (just checked her email a few times and texted Aiden to see if he needed anything)--she enjoyed a long bath, read a book, reorganized her kitchen and started making solid plans to move her apartment. She should actually be ready to do that once they're back from this work trip.

But she wasn't about to let Scott or anyone else for that matter keep her from doing what she loves to do at work--regardless if it's something as complex as meetings or something as mundane as getting Aiden's schedule for the day.

Besides, it feels good to move, to travel (she's always enjoyed that aspect)...and she meant what she said that she likes doing it with Aiden. Even though it's nowhere as lavish as London this time.

She looks over at Aiden, setting her phone down on her lap with a soft smile. "I want to visit The Bean--that's here, right?"

#fr10: chicago

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fruitcoops · 6 months

Note

So I just reread the fic about Jules birthday, and I’ve always liked the part where Remus tells Jules that he’ll always be more important than hockey. Could you write a fic about that if you haven’t already? Like Remus leaving in the middle of practice or something like that? Idk it’s up to u:)

Fic O'Ween Day 3: Midnight! Read more amazing works from these prompts at @noots-fic-fests and of course, character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW illness (coughing, mentioned vomiting, fatigue)

Remus leaned against the countertop for support and stared at the floor. “But he’s okay, right?”

“He’s okay,” his mother answered. She sounded beyond exhausted.

Remus nodded and rubbed his fingers under his eye. The night suddenly seemed so much darker. “How’re you and dad? Taking time off?”

“We’re alright.” He knew that low edge to her voice—it was the same one his own took on when he was trying to hide his hurt. Silence fell over the line.

“Mom.”

“Your dad can’t get PTO this week and neither can I.”

She cleared her throat; he closed his eyes. “Can Leanne keep an eye on him?”

“Visiting her daughter in Florida.”

No parents, no neighbors, no way they’re getting a babysitter for a sick kid… “I’ll be on the next flight.”

“Remus, no.”

“There’s nobody else—”

“Honey.” He could see the way her eyebrows drew together in his mind. “Honey, you’re on the road this week.”

“I know.”

“In Montreal.”

“They can handle a couple games without me.”

“You’re practically a rookie, Remus,” his mother insisted. After a pause, she lowered her voice. “You’re not going to damage your career when we can get a babysitter, or—or I can find a couple days off. Hell, your dad’s got a pullout at the office he can rest on.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“Remus John, you have a responsibility to your team.”

“Jules comes first.” If there was one thing Remus would stand by no matter the circumstances, it was his family. The Lions would survive a roadie without him. Jules would never be alone and sick on his watch.

His mother was silent for a long time.

Remus picked at a chip in the granite. “There’s no babysitter that will watch him, is there?”

A sigh traveled down the line. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby. Give Sirius my best. Sleep well.”

“I will,” he lied. The call went dead and he turned, bracing both hands against cool stone. Sirius’ footsteps were soft, his hand gentle. Remus sniffled. His chest was a vise. “Mom says hi.”

Slow circles pressed between his shoulder blades. “What happened?”

“Jules got the flu, and they can’t get time off work to stay home with him.” Fucking assholes in fucking corporate. Remus swallowed around the clog in his throat. “Sounds like he’s pretty sick.”

“Does he need to go to the hospital?”

Remus shook his head. The hand on his back slid down and wrapped around his side, guiding him to lean on Sirius’ chest. “Do you want me to book your flight while you call Coach?”

“Yeah.” His voice was rough. He didn’t let go. “God, I hate being so far away.”

Sirius’ other arm came around him and held him tight.

Remus and his father talked the whole ride home from the airport, and said nothing at all.

The house was just as he left it at Christmas. No snow remained, and little frost—crocuses peeked out of the lawn where the squirrels had snatched and buried them.

Apologies for the late notice, but due to a family emergency, I will be in Wisconsin until the 22nd. Thank you for your understanding.

Rapid responses. Cranky responses. Remus had tried to keep a level head, even through the tremor of his hands on the computer keyboard. The organization wasn’t happy with him, but when were they ever?

It didn’t matter either way. Fine or not, suspension or not, they weren’t going to stop him from making chicken soup and raspberry Emergen-C for his sick little brother. He was damn lucky to have Arthur on his side, easing the retribution from men in offices who had hardly bothered to meet him at the start of the season.

“Your mother’s worried.”

Remus glanced up from his hands. His father was facing forward, brow pinched while he pulled into the driveway. “Yeah.”

The engine turned off with a sputter. “Be gentle, okay?”

“It’s not your fault they wouldn’t give you time—”

“Be gentle.”

Remus bit the inside of his lip and nodded. A goldfish cracker peered out at him from the crevice by the door. This passenger seat always made him feel so small. He slung his backpack out of the seat well and stepped out, letting the crisp air nip his face and bring him back. He needed to come back more. The heartache had lessened, and distance was simply exhausting now. Running fast and far to Gryffindor had seemed so smart before.

The front door still squeaked when he turned the doorknob. Remus was glad for that, at least.

His mother smiled when she saw him. “Hi, baby, how was your flight?”

“Hey, mom.” It was good, he started to say, only to have the words fall from his mind the moment she stepped around the kitchen table and wrapped him in her arms. It’s been a lot I love you I missed you how are you where’s Jules—“Uneventful, thankfully.”

“Good, that’s just the way you want it.” She gave a little sway, one hand cradling the back of his neck. He felt a light pulse of pressure. Her back, ever tense, relaxed slightly. “It’s so good to have you home.”

Remus breathed deep. Lemon-scented cleaning spray and drugstore shampoo, laundry detergent and just-sharpened pencils. He pressed his nose tighter to her shoulder and felt her squeeze him, just a little. “Missed you.”

“Oh, Re,” she sighed. A hand rubbed along his spine for a few hard, grounding, wonderful seconds. Warmth seeped in around his edges. The floor was solid beneath him, the walls sturdy. A kiss found his temple. “Baby, we missed you, too.”

A rattling cough made him wince. “Jeez.”

“I know.” Her face crinkled into a grimace when they separated and she looked back down the hall. “That started up two days ago. Poor thing. Keeps him up at night.”

“Aw.” The cough was followed by a rough throat-clear that made Remus frown. “Fever and everything?”

“102, as of this morning.” Hope ran a palm over his shoulder, the way she tended to right after he came home. Remus tried not to think about that too hard, or else he made himself sad. “You’re sure about this? You could get sick. It’s the middle of the season.”

Remus tried for an encouraging smile. “My immune system’s great, mom. I��m in good shape, I take my multivitamins. Eat my Wheaties, and all that.”

“Hmm.” She scrutinized him for a beat. “You better be.”

“I’m basically indestructible.”

Her laugh bounced off the corners of the house like it always had. “Let’s not get hasty, hon.”

“Mom?”

Remus’ heart sank.

“Dad?” Jules croaked, a little louder. “Did the neighbors come over?”

“Hey, J,” Remus called. The floorboards gave a light groan when he set his bag down at the end of the hall. “It’s me, bud.”

Silence followed. The bathroom nightlight was on, casting the hall in gentle blue. His hand drifted toward the first door on reflex (cool metal knob, lock on the inside, jimmy it three times in the winter when the frame sticks), but he managed to step past it and knock lightly below the ‘J LUPIN. DO NOT ENTER.’ sign scotch-taped to the old wood.

“Jules? I’m opening the door.”

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Stale, sweaty, feverish—Remus did a double-take without meaning to.

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” Jules rasped from somewhere to his right. “Hey. Hi, why are you here?”

“You slept too long. It’s June. I’m here for the summer.”

“Hey.”

“You’re sick, dummy.” Remus tried to be subtle about propping the door open wider with a loose hockey glove. “I’m taking care of you.”

With the new, faint light from the hallway, he could see just how terrible Julian looked. His unconvinced squint didn’t help the sallowness of his skin or the heavy bags carved under his eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh, you have a roadie in—” Another hacking cough interrupted him. It shook his tiny frame hard enough to make his knees bend under the covers. Remus’ heart gave an acid lurch.

Agitated heat radiated off him to the point that Remus could feel it when he perched on the edge of the bed. The sheets were a tangled mess; one blanket half-tucked, the other mostly on the floor. “Deep breaths,” he soothed when the coughing turned to a few aggressive sniffles. “Take it easy.”

“Montreal,” Jules finished in a mutter. He wiped his nose on the edge of his baggy t-shirt (almost certainly their father’s, with the way it dwarfed him) and laid back with a long huff. “You got a roadie in Montreal. Dad ‘n me are gonna watch the game.”

“Dad and I.”

“Shhh.”

He smiled to himself and tugged the top blanket down to shimmy the next one into position. “Well, you and I can watch it. How’s that sound?”

“No, you need to play,” Jules groaned, but even that was weak. He curled onto his side and peeked out of his huddle, dull-eyed and flushed. “How come you’re here anyway?”

“Told you. I’m taking care of you.”

“But hockey.”

“But you.”

“But…hockey.”

“But you.” His stomach gave a little pull. “You’re more important than a couple games, bud.”

Jules didn’t look like he believed him. “…okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re R—”

“Don’t you—” Remus bit back his words (and his grin) and whacked lightly at the outline of Jules’ legs under the blankets, coaxing a crunchy sort of laugh from him. “Watch it. I’m in charge of feeding you for the next few days.”

Jules’ giggling trickled out with a last sniff. “Mom and Dad gotta go to work, huh?”

“Yeah.” The wrinkle of his nose was almost certainly reflected on Remus’ face. “But hey, we’ll have fun.”

“Mmm.”

The air shifted, along with his gut. Jules’ breaths were heavier. His eyes, lidded. His forehead was far too hot against the back of Remus’ hand when he checked it. “Tired?”

“Mhmm.”

Wrapping him in a dozen blankets and cuddling him as tight as possible wouldn’t help. Logically, Remus knew that. The temptation was still there. “Too hot?”

“Warm.”

“Want me to take a blanket?”

Jules shook his head. His eyes were closed fully now. “Weight’s nice.”

Every inhale hitched when Remus rested a hand between his shoulder blades, feeling for his pulse. That, at least, was calm. Jules had sweated through the old grey fabric there. He combed a few strands of hair off his burning brow and swallowed around his dry throat. “Want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

“Gonna nap.” Jules’ twitched, as if he was trying to readjust but lacked the energy. “Here when I wake up?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be here.”

The evening passed without issue. Night rolled in with a gust of wind that hissed across the windowpanes while Remus dried the last of the dishes. Jules had managed to get up and come to the table for dinner, but he had looked even worse in the brighter light and barely ate half a bowl of soup. He could see their mother struggling not to fuss over him, not that Jules had any oomph to give real protest.

What kind of family emergency is this, Lupin?

A family emergency. I can come back the 22nd.

You’re missing two games. Do you understand that? Weasley won’t play you for the third, either.

I understand.

Is this a funeral?

No.

A wedding?

No.

It’s a request for nonvital time off, then. This could very well result in a fine.

I’m aware of that. Time off for a family emergency is covered in my contract. I’m permitted to miss four games.

Are you really going to put in a request for this? For a nonvital midweek trip instead of two NHL games?

That’s precisely what I’m requesting, yes. This is an emergency and therefore it is vital.

Remus had not missed the bureaucracy of the NHL during his time on the ice. There was still administrative irritation, of course, but it had not been nearly long enough since he played email tag with someone determined to make his life harder. ‘Nonvital emergency’. It made him want to laugh and lose it at the same time. What a fucking joke.

A sudden rustle and thud—likely Jules’ elbow hitting the wall between their rooms, ouch—startled him from half-sleep. Clumsy footsteps pattered on the floor; a door creaked and closed, quickly followed by a dry heave. Remus winced in sympathy.

This bedroom felt too small. His feet touched the end of the bed if he stretched out. There were only a few inches’ allowance for his shoulders on either side before he hit a wall or the edge of the mattress. Even his stuff felt smaller, as if the books shrank in his hands and the trophies had been made for someone Jules’ size.

He supposed they had been. Juniors was a world away, these days. He had turned the idea of keeping a potential you-know-what ring here instead of in Gryffindor, but never really committed one way or another. That, too, felt far off. He was stuck in the middle of a spectrum, where nothing felt quite right.

The toilet flushed, but he didn’t hear Jules leave. The low timbre of their father’s voice buzzed in the hall for a second; he didn’t catch Jules’ response. Remus swung his legs over the side of the bed with a huff and stood despite the creaking protests of his knees.

The blue light looked eerie in the cover of real night. He propped Jules’ door open again as he passed. A little ventilation couldn’t hurt. He paused in the doorway of the bathroom and crouched down, lowering himself to the cool linoleum with a soft groan. “Sup?”

“M not gonna throw up again.”

“Okay.” Remus flexed his ankles against the cabinets and tilted his head back. The soft towels buffered him from the wallpaper. Next to him, Jules’ forehead was stubbornly pressed into the crease of his elbow where he rested it on the toilet seat. “Still sick?”

A wordless mumble answered him.

“I’m gonna make chicken and dumplings tomorrow.”

Jules weakly raised his head. “Really?”

“Yup. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch. All that good stuff.”

Quiet fell over them for a long moment. “What are you talking about?”

“What, you don’t want a science lesson?”

“Nerd—”

He knew it was going to happen before Jules’ first jerk forward and caught his side when he wobbled, giving gentle pressure until he was upright. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, I got you.”

“Ugh.”

“I know. You’re doing great, J.” It was over as fast as it started. Jules trembled lightly under his touch, sweaty again, all too warm again. His knuckles stood out in harsh midnight shadows where he gripped the porcelain, thin arms shivering.

Jules sniffled. “I wanna go to bed.”

“I bet.”

“I’m tired.”

“Can you stand up?” It took Jules a moment to even start moving; when he did, it was sluggish and unsteady. Remus hovered his hands close and resisted the urge to scoop him right up. Jules wouldn’t like that. He hated being babied. It was still fucking hard to watch him pull himself to his feet.

A rinse-and-spit and a cool washcloth on the back of his neck made Jules sigh. He leaned right into Remus’ hip, head at the base of his ribs, and staggered along on foal legs while Remus guided him back to bed with a lump in the base of his throat. There was no fuss about being tucked in—he simply sighed again, so content it hurt. Remus smoothed out the hem of the comforter by his neck just one more time, once more, just so he could be sure.

Their parents were out by the time Remus woke. He distantly recalled the sound of them leaving, but the plane left him groggy enough not to notice or care. Jules was still snoring loud enough for him to hear it through their shared wall.

Breakfast, then. Something light. Oatmeal or eggs, if he could keep it down. Broth, if not. Remus would have to check the fridge for Gatorade and lemons.

It was strange to be functionally alone in the house. The carpet felt too soft, the curtains too still. A bright pink sticky note was stuck to the table with his name written in big letters at the top. He’d check it later.

Message To: SB <3

Morning :)

Fever’s still going, nasty cough, the works. I’ll keep an eye on him today.

Miss you

He clicked his phone off and set it aside—hopefully, Sirius wouldn’t be awake for some time yet. They didn’t have practice for two more hours in his time zone. He liked to sleep in on days like that. Remus, on the other hand, had work to do.

Quick eggs and bacon for himself took fifteen minutes. He parked himself at his usual seat without really thinking about it, pulling a dish towel and a fork from their drawers with an absent mind. He hadn’t dared to check his email yet and seriously contemplated leaving it alone until he was back in Gryffindor. Time off was time off. Professional hockey wasn’t big on ‘work from home’.

Jules shuffled in half past ten and made a beeline for the couch.

“Good morning.”

A grunt answered.

“Sleep well?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Want oatmeal?”

Jules’ mumble seemed vaguely affirmative. Remus set the kettle on and dug a pot out of the cupboard, then turned to rummage in the pantry. This was setting up to be a silent morning.

Measuring for a sick preteen was almost as strange as picturing his childhood bedroom as a normal size. Remus had only cooked for himself for years, then himself and Sirius, with the occasional potluck dish for a team dinner or holiday party. A single cup of anything was a novelty. “Want sugar?” he checked once the oats and milk were simmering. Jules snuffled in response, dragging one of the knit blankets further over his head. “Lemme check your temperature and then you can tell me, yeah?”

“Mmkay.”

A quick search of the medicine cabinet revealed no thermometer, and the same went for the hall closet. Remus spent a good five minutes riffling through the bathroom drawers and Jules’ desk before he found it propped against the base of his dolphin lamp. It had been left uncapped; gross. He made sure to give it a thorough wash before moving back into the living room.

“Blanket down.”

“No.”

“I can’t see your mouth. C’mon, just for a second.”

“Cold. Bright.”

“Twenty seconds, J. I promise. You can count.”

The blanket lump shifted. “Twenty?”

“Fifteen. Then I’ll bring your oatmeal over and leave you alone.”

A handful of shallow breaths filled the silence before Jules’ forehead poked out, then his glazed eyes, and finally the lower half of his face. Remus grimaced. His nose was red and chapped from tissues, and a faint crack split the side of his lower lip. “Have you been drinking your water?”

“Fifteen seconds,” Jules slurred.

Remus knew he wasn’t getting a better number than yesterday. Not with this vague lucidity, and not when Jules was hardly able to hold a fragment of a conversation. All the same, it made his gut sink when the thermometer beeped.

“Whuzzat?”

“102.5.”

“ ‘S worse?”

“Yep.”

A resigned nod told him Jules expected as much. The blanket swallowed him up again. Remus pulled it down over his feet before heading back to the kitchen.

Three hours passed with all the rush of a snail on codeine. Jules rallied to choke down his oatmeal before going down for a noon nap, let Remus rouse him to gulp down about a gallon of water, and overall remained sedentary while Remus channel-surfed for anything even slightly interesting on daytime TV. They settled on NCIS from one to 2:30, NCIS: Miami from 2:30 to four (with a brief break for sandwiches, or toast, in Jules’ case), and rounded it out with NCIS: LA while Remus tossed some rotisserie chicken and chopped vegetables in a simmering pot of broth.

“Re?”

“Yeah, bud?” Bisquick puffed over the side of the mixing bowl in a soft cloud.

“My stomach hurts.” Jules’ voice wavered. “And my mouth feels weird.”

Fuck. “Bathroom, hustle.”

The glimpse he caught of Jules before he vanished down the hall confirmed it: pallid skin, dilated pupils, sweat gleaming on the back of his neck. Remus rinsed his hands in the sink and dug the box of Pepto Bismol tablets out of his bag, and sent a silent thanks to whatever small mercy it was that left him without a reactive gag reflex.

He spent twenty minutes sitting sideways with water seeping into his pants from the bathmat. “I’m gonna throw up until I die,” Jules whined, pressing his forehead to Remus’ palm.

“You’re not gonna die. Definitely not while I’m here.” He slid his hand around to press against the nape of Jules’ neck and gave a light squeeze. “You’re almost done. Work it out, buddy.”

“Gonna miss the game?”

Despite the sweat, despite the illness, despite it all—Remus smiled. Of course Jules would be thinking about that when he looked like death warmed over. He wouldn’t be a Lupin with anything else on his mind. “We’ve still got half an hour.”

Jules gave a faint push back into his hand. His lower lip wobbled. “I don’t want to miss it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it.”

“I don’t—” His voice cracked, but it wasn’t even slightly funny. He took a shuddering inhale and sniffled again, harsher. “I don’t want to be sick anymore, I don’t, I’m so done, I don’t like it.”

“Jules…” The redness had flooded his cheeks and ears, inching down his neck with each horribly choked breath. Jules’ eyes were bright, but not like usual. He blinked and a drip tracked down his nose. His exhale wasn’t much of an exhale at all—it wracked him, made him sway. “Oh,” Remus murmured. “Oh, hey, c’mere.”

The edge of thirteen had left Jules gangly, all bones and joints. He still fit just right in the hollow of Remus’ chest and arms. A shivering, overheated mess, but a mess that fit all the same. Fuck it, Remus thought as he tightened his arms around Jules and let him fall apart in the safe dark. He didn’t care if he got sick. This was the most vital emergency he could possibly think of. If the administration had a problem with that, he’d happily turn his gear in before leaving Jules to burn through this alone.

“I’m tired,” Jules whispered through shuddering breaths. “My head hurts ‘n my stomach hurts ‘n everything else, too.”

“I know, bud, you’re being so brave.”

A damp, wounded noise made Remus wince.

“But hey, you haven’t thrown up in, like, five minutes.”

Jules felt around blindly for a tissue and blew his nose several times before answering. “I guess.”

“You ready to get up? Have some dinner and watch the game?”

“Dizzy.”

“Okay.” He pressed the wrinkles out of Jules’ shirt with his palm and felt him go limp. “I brought some super special secret hockey medicine, if that’ll help.”

“…is it Gatorade?”

“No, but we have that, too.” He rattled the box next to Jules’ ear. “Pepto Bismol. My secret weapon.”

“Nuh-uh. That’s the pink sh—stuff.”

“Nice save,” Remus said dryly. “This is the same. It’s easier to keep down, though. And it works faster.”

“Makes my stomach stop hurting?”

“It might help.”

He waited a beat, then two. A clammy palm extended from the tangle of limbs near his middle. He dropped two of the chalky tabs into it and loosened his hold by a degree, enough for Jules to pop them both in his mouth and frown immediately. “Yuck. It’s crunchy.”

“Keep chewing.”

“Why is it coming apart like that?”

“Keep chewing,” Remus repeated through a light laugh. “Doesn’t work if you talk the whole way through.”

Jules tucked his legs closer to himself, pushing him further into Remus’ lap. As horrible as the past twenty minutes had been, he seemed better for it. The fevered sheen to his face wasn’t quite as nuclear. His breathing sounded more even and controlled.

“You finished?”

“Mhmm.”

Jules might have looked better, but Remus didn’t have the energy to fight the coddling urge this time. He slid his free arm across the back of Jules’ knees and hefted him up like a cat gone boneless, and received no protest whatsoever. Instead, Jules curled into him with a long, relieved sigh. Remus’ heart may have shattered a little.

The pregame show was just wrapping up when he set Jules gingerly on the couch and pulled the blanket around him. Half of his waterbottle was gone in a few desperate swallows; Jules wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and all but collapsed onto the throw pillows, a heap of exhaustion. The belltower by the middle school tolled six. His sandy hair was damp at the root when Remus passed a hand through it. They’d fix that eventually. Fluids first (hockey first), then everything else.

New Message From: SB <3

Heading to the rink. Miss you love you : )

Remus smiled down at his phone as he set Jules’ bowl on the coffee table and folded himself into the armchair.

“Tell Sirius I say hi.”

“He’s literally right there,” Remus laughed, gesturing at the TV. “He’s not gonna see it for ages.”

“Still.” Jules poked around with his spoon for a few seconds before attempting a small sip of broth. An approving nod followed. “It’s good.”

“Glad it meets your standards. Eat. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch.”

Jules’ eye roll was weak, but very much present. “I know, I know.”

“You gotta know that stuff.”

“I’m not gonna be a doctor.”

“Yeah, but you’re still gonna be a person.” Remus cut a dumpling in half with the side of his spoon. “If you don’t know how to feed yourself by the time you move out, I’m totally making fun of you.”

“Whatever.”

They both booed when the Habs skated out, and cheered when the Lions appeared soon after. Jules couldn’t muster much more than a rough whisper, but the soup and a bottle of Gatorade seemed to help. Remus made him get up and stretch during the first period intermission (to immense complaints, but eventual acquiescence) before letting him rest while he washed up in the kitchen.

New Message From: SB <3

First period up.

How’s J?

New Message To: SB <3

Haha yeah we’re watching

Temp’s high, still pretty sick. Getting better tho

Made soup

The response was almost immediate. Remus’ heart skipped at the thought of Sirius glued to his phone even after a rough period, just to chat with him.

New Message From: SB <3

Oooo jealous

New Message To: SB <3

Yeah you should be

It’s a real rager up here

Miss you. Go get ‘em.

A simple heart and hockey stick emoji followed. The grey bubble cycled for a moment before disappearing. That would be the midgame meeting. Remus was glad to be home—wouldn’t trade this—but he had to admit the hockey ache was still there. Even easy choices had consequences.

By the time he looked back, Jules was asleep. Remus checked his forehead as delicately as he could and was pleased to find it slightly cooler than that morning, if altogether too warm. The pattern of creaky floorboards laid a map in his bones as he moved through the house: first to open Jules’ window, then to let his blankets air out, and while he was at it, he may as well wash the sheets. The nightstand and bookshelf needed to be wiped down. It wasn’t hard to get that done while the washer rumbled on the other side of the hall. In the meantime, the soup had cooled enough to pack up in Tupperware to stack in the fridge for later. Who knew if Jules would suddenly get his appetite back? The kid was a bear when he was hungry.

He lingered for the end of the second period and swapped the sheets into the dryer at the start of the third with a cookie and a cup of Emergen-C for himself. He damn well better not catch whatever germs Jules had percolated from the hellscape of middle school. Sirius had called him ‘stubbornly healthy’ on too many occasions for it to be disproven. Besides, the administration might actually fire him if he came back from an emergency and was immediately out for three more games.

“Re?”

The sound of a quiet voice took Remus’ off-guard in the last few minutes of the third period. “What’s up?”

Jules shifted around until he could prop his chin on the throw pillow and blink blearily at Remus. “Did we win?”

“Game’s still going. 4-3, Lions.”

“How much time?”

“Just under five.”

Jules attempted a whistle, though it came out as more of a shaky breath. “Almost there.”

“Dad texted. They’ll be home in a few, traffic was rough.”

“Oh, okay.” A small smile lit his face. He burrowed back under the blanket. “That’s good.”

“They’ve been asking about you all day.”

“Did’ja tell them I was fine?”

“Something like that.” Sort of. Maybe. He had been gentle about it, at least. Gory details would only make them panic.

He made sure to poke Jules awake for the last minute of the game before shepherding him down the hall to brush his teeth and shower. It was only 8:30, but Remus felt weary all the way to his core. He made Jules’ bed while the water ran and tried to tuck the sheets in along the wall a little deeper this time, just in case one tried to end up on the floor again. If he had the time, he may as well do it right, pinched fingers notwithstanding.

It was all worth it when Jules trudged back into his bedroom and threw himself into bed, only to gasp aloud. “Aw, man, this is great.”

“You’re welcome,” Remus laughed.

“Oh, wow.” The bumps of Jules’ feet kicked happily under layers of fabric and down. “It’s all warm, and cozy…”

“Get some sleep,” he reminded him, and turned out the big light. “If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

He made it halfway across Jules’ carpet.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“You—” The faint outline of Jules’ head was backlit by his lamp. Remus could see the shadows of his hands fidgeting with the top blanket. “Will you…can you tell me about the soup stuff? The proteins and all that.”

Remus hesitated. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Jules said with a surprisingly enthusiastic nod. “It sounds cool.”

“I mean—yeah, sure. Uh…” Jules’ desk chair looked wildly uncomfortable for this time of night, so edge of the bed it was, he supposed. The sheets provided a nice cushion when he sat. “Okay, have you ever heard of macromolecules?”

“That’s a made-up word.”

“It’s what you’re made up of, actually. How about DNA? You know that one?”

Lyall opened the front door with a muttered curse for the bitter wind and the worse traffic. It was brutally unfair that the one day he tried to come home early, everything went to hell and kept him an age and a half longer. What kind of karma came after a father trying to get home to his sick kid?

“It’s awfully quiet,” Hope remarked behind him. The door opened at last; warm air rushed over them. “Boys? Are you up?”

The NHL postgame show was playing at a low volume, next to a plate with crumbs on it and a mug so old the pattern had washed off it. One of Hope’s blankets from her knitting phase was haphazardly piled on the couch. The evidence of both of them there, present and accounted for and safe, plucked at his heartstrings. “Why do I feel like this is exactly where they sat for the entire day?”

She shook her head. “Good for them. I’m jealous. Remus? Julian? Are you home?”

Remus’ bedroom door was closed. The bathroom fan was still on, and steam clung to the corners of the mirror next to a still-damp towel. It couldn’t have been long since they went to bed, then. Lyall pushed Julian’s bedroom door open wider and covered his mouth with his palm.

They had nearly rendered each other invisible, save for Remus’ legs stretched over the side of the bed and Julian’s arm resting atop his pile of blankets. Julian’s congested snoring drowned out the heavy, even rhythm of Remus’ breathing. As far as he could tell, only one of them had actually been prepared for bed.

“Oh my goodness,” Hope whispered at his shoulder. Her grin was radiant, even half-covered by her palm. “I don’t want to move them.”

“Re’s going to wake up with one hell of a side cramp if we let him sleep like that.”

“You do it, then.”

“…no.”

Hope scoffed fondly and tossed her hands in the air, then kissed him on the jaw as she stepped deeper into the bedroom. The whole place felt lighter, Lyall noticed. Julian had been holed up in here for two days, refusing to come out for anything but necessities. Whatever Remus had done, it worked wonders.

“Remus,” Hope singsonged in her quietest voice. She shook his shoulder, soft enough that for a moment, Lyall forgot Remus wasn’t a toddler anymore. “Baby, you need to wake up. It’s bedtime.”

“ ‘M asleep,” Remus mumbled without opening his eyes. “In my bed.”

“This isn’t your bed, lovey,” she laughed. “Come on, up you go.”

“Goin’ to sleep, promise.” His eyelashes fluttered, nose crinkling. “Talking ‘bout—‘bout proteins. Jules wanted to know.”

At the head of the bed, Julian didn’t show so much as a hint of waking. Lyall stepped forward and braced his hands under Remus’ arms, then hoisted him into a sitting position as gently as he could manage with the unexpected weight of an athlete to counterbalance him.

Remus jolted, startling into consciousness. “Woah—”

“Shh, shh.” Lyall helped him stand on clumsy legs and guided him to the door with a last playful glance at Hope. “I’ve got you, buddy.”

“Fell asleep.” Remus blinked hard. “Jules’ bed. Wanted me to stay. Time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Oh, god, ‘s early.” A yawn overtook him, spilling more of his weight into Lyall. He didn’t seem to know where his own feet were, but he went easily into the room next door.

“Alright,” Lyall huffed as he helped Remus stumble toward the bed and splay over the mattress. That old thing was definitely too small for him these days. Funny, how times changed so rapidly. That same bed used to make Remus look like nothing more than a pile of sheets. “Brush your teeth?”

A drawn-out snore answered him.

Lyall smiled to himself in the darkness and ruffled the back of Remus’ hair. “Night, Re.”

A single socked foot twitched in response. That was good enough for him.

(Jules’ fever broke the next morning. By the end of the day, he was well enough to go with them to the airport and give Remus the fiercest goodbye hug either of them had experienced, with a pinky-promise that the Lions would win the next game he played.)

#remus lupin #julian lupin #sirius black #lyall lupin #hope lupin #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #fic o’ween 2023 #illness #sickfic #lupin bros #hurt/ comfort

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coralseacourt · 4 months

Text

Undeniably yours Part 4 by @coralseacourt

Summery: A girl falling through darkness into a world of fae, landing right in Hybern’s Throne room. Azriel finding his mate but not wanting her. Rhysand’s & feyre’s bond severed for good. What else could go wrong?

Azriel x Reader x Rhysand

Part1, part2, part3, part4, part5, part6, Part7

Part 4

It had been days.

Days of Rhys not visiting, after our flight across Velaris and the abruptly ending of it.

He had not shown himself or gave me any notice of what to do with myself.

After day two I had found a library, which magically appeared and hadn’t been there before. Starting to read a book sounded like a good plan for the time being.

I came across priestesses that seemed to work here, one had introduced herself as Emery before quickly disappearing.

Since then I had only gotten the silent treatment, which might have been because of the friendship Nesta had with them. Emery had told me about their friendship.

I just finished my morning routine and slipped out of my room to make my way back to the library like I had done the past week, when I encountered Nesta leaning against the wall across from my bedroom.

What should I do? Wait for her to say something or walk away? I scooped around awkwardly.

Her eyes narrowed while starring at me.

“You know, if I were you I would stay in this Room.”

I blinked a couple times confused.

Stay in the room? Was I not allowed to come out? But Rhys , he had seen me and not mentioned anything.

I cleared my throat

“Why would I do that ?”

“Good that you ask. Let me explain.” She pushed herself off the wall and came closer until we almost touched.

I had to look up.

Her smile turned mocking, she seemed to like the feeling of her looking down on me.

“You are not wanted here, you are a burden. A danger.

Not one single person in this court wants you in our Court . So if I in fact were you, i would take my problems and uncertainties and would not leave come this room.”

She stepped closer and I swallowed stepping back and meeting the door behind me.

“And you know accidents do happen.” Her eyes started to gleam dangerously.

She turned with an hair flip and walked away chuckling.

I had to keep the tears in that were threatening to spill.

Without another thought I went back in to my safe haven.

Is that why Rhysand didn’t visit me anymore?

Was I danger?

Did he know something I didn’t about myself?

I whimpered and pulled my arms around my middle.

I knew it was ridiculous to feel betrayed by the thoughts of Rhys thinking of me like that, but I couldn’t help it. It hurt .

I needed to know more about myself. Needed to know what happened before I came here?

I walked to my bed and sat down with crossed lega , closing my eyes and calming my breathing.

There had to be something other than darkness.

I concentrated .

what was before the dark? What pulled me here? I started to whisper lowly, “please there has to be something.”

And then there was a string of light .

Like something pulling me in the right direction. I could smell something.

Wood? Night air? Water?

And then there were pictures.

A dark figure on top of me , the smell of Alcohol.

Me fighting him. What did he want? I felt my body tingle lightly like it was charging with something.

Then I saw myself falling in to water.

Cold,Deep,Dark.

Dark, dark, dark it was echoing in my head.

I m cold and alone.

It started to hurt.

My chest it burned like ice and fire combined.

I started screaming, the pain it was unbearable. I only barely felt someone shaking me , touching my face.

Then nothing. I felt like floating in darkness. Until even that disappeared and I didn’t exist no longer.

When I woke up , I felt the hardness underneath me. Not my bed. I opened my eyes and found trees? Burned trees?

And I was alone.

How did I got here? I slowly stood up.

“It was about time that you woke up.”

I knew this voice my heart started racing and I looked around. There out of the shadows came azriel like an angel born to revenge.

I stopped breathing for a moment and my fear seemed to overwhelm me. Nesta’s words halled in my mind.

“ Accidents can always happen.” But I needed to know.

“What happened?” I asked not sure I would like the answer to that question.

“What happened? What happened is that you almost blew up Velaris with whatever powers you possess.” He hissed.

“What happened is that you charged yourself up with magic, bright shining light that streamed out of you. If I hadn’t brought you here who knows what would have happened. “ He was raging literally fuming of anger.

I could feel it.

“Powers? What powers? I have no powers. I only tried to remember who I had been before.” I bit my lip and my hands formed to fists from frustration and anger. “ Then look around, look at the trees.”

Burned trees. I did this?

“ You know I don’t want to be here anymore then any of you want me here.

I rather would stop to exist than be in this lonely place with people that want me dead.”

Tears streaming down my face but my head held high I turned around and walked away.

“Where the hell do you think you are going.” He growled in the same moment that he appeared in front of me.

“Why can’t I just go someplace else if I m not wanted here? What difference is it gonna make?” The last words I had screamed at him.

“You are dangerous, anywhere you go. Do you not understand that? Especially now that we know that you have magic.”

He grabbed my shoulders and I flinched a lthinking of the memories that had overpowered me .

His eyes were boring into mine like he could erase me through his look alone. “ Why do you treat me like I m your biggest enemy? What have I done to warrant that? “ I pulled away and had to look away from his face.

He let out a long breath , showing me how annoyed he really was with me for not understanding.

“ I don’t care enough about you to see you as anything. You are just a burden.”

He grabbed my hand while saying,” Let’s go.”

And with that we disappeared both into his shadows.

The moment we got out i found myself in a different place than where i had lived the last couple weeks.

We were in a comfortable greeting room with lush cushions, and tasteful arranged bookshelf’s.

A tray with what I assumed was liquor standing on a side table.

Why bring me here?

Did he bring me here to kill me ? Just like Nesta had said?

“Nesta said what?” Came an angry voice from the doorway.

Rhys .

Did he read my mind? He stormed towards me and ripped me from Ariel’s arms that had somehow found there way around me while going through the shadows.

“Y/n , what did she say to you? “

He seemed angry. With me? “I m not angry with you but you need to tell me what she said. Or better show it to me, in here” Pointing and then softly touching my forehead.

His thumb sliding over it and down to my cheek.

A growl came from Azriel , but I ignored it not wanting to give him any more of my attention.

So I showed Rhys what happened , because all I could feel standing in front of him was trust, warmth , comfort.

“I shouldn’t have removed the glamour so early.” He whispered quietly while starring at me.

“I knew she would be trouble , I just did not know how much.”

“Glamour? What’s that?”

“I had the house of wind where you stayed, glamoured for you so you could only go to certain parts. Just until I was sure I could trust you. “.

Oh that’s how I suddenly found the library.

As much as it hurted to hear that , the more I understood what an excellent High lord he really was .

To protect his court but still trying to help me.

“ Azriel what happened up there? Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”

He pulled me behind his back while facing the Shadowsinger.

Grabbing my Hand and holding it tight, like he tried to hold himself back from the anger that was now directed at Azriel.

I glimpsed around him to see better and found that he wasn’t even looking at Rhys.

He was starring at our connected hands.

“ Tell me Rhys, why is it that you haven’t tried to contact feyre? “ I could hear Rhysand’s heartbeat go faster. “ We are not mated anymore , so how do you think I should do that? No spy is able to get to spring, no message will reach. What exactly do you want me to do?”

“ How about anything else than taking the next best female that you can find to your bed?”

Rhys stilled and the tension was wired.

“ You might think you know it all, but if you ever speak to your High lord or your brother that way again , then I can promise you that the consequences will be swift and harsh. Out of my eyes now”. He growled the last words.

“ I might not have been as welcoming as you to her,” he narrowed his eyes ,

“but maybe I should change that.” And with that he disappeared.

part 5

continued in part 5….

Tags: @hnyclover

#acotar fanfic #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x oc #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #rhys x y/n #rhys x you

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acciopietro · 1 year

Text

doctor pt. 4

pairing: namor x fem! reader

summary: after taking some time to yourself, you allow yourself to understand.

word count: 6,349

tw: mention of death/murder, mention of wounds and blood.

a/n: thanks for hanging in there and being patient with me, everyone. you’re all so so appreciated!!! here’s the final part :)

WEEKS CAME AND WEEKS WENT in Miami until about two months pass. You got up everyone morning, hopped on the train to work, worked until six or seven, took the train home, went to bed. Maybe you’d sprinkle in a work out or a lunch with a friend here and there, but nothing much changed. You hadn’t really spoken to your sister. And the team, well... there was no team, anymore. It was you and Dr. Mishra and Juliette, the secretary. The office was empty. Their empty chairs and cold coffee cups stared at you until you clocked out.

Every night before bed, without fail, you thought about Namor. That look on his face when he was just about ready to kill you. Then the look on his face when he had dropped to his knees, pleading for forgiveness. And then seeing Reynolds and Bernstein fall overboard. You’d squeeze your eyes shut and try and shut it all out until you’d eventually fall back asleep. Despite this, that jade-beaded bracelet never left your wrist.

You woke up in a sweat, your face pale from the horrors your mind had conjured and your skin cold and clammy from your thrashing and shivering. The trauma from the boat seemed to have followed you home to Miami.

The cuts had healed, the bruises, too, but the memories had not left. It was difficult to have Namor plaguing both your thoughts and your nightmares at the same time. There was a dissonance in your head, where in the day you’d dream of running back to that beach in Yucatán, and in the night you’d suffer the sight of him and his soldiers about to kill you.

You reached over towards your bedside table, picking up your phone and rolling over onto your side. There was a recent notification, it’s icon glowing green, that read Voicemail from Juliette. You let out a hmph and clicked it, pressing the speaker button so as to hear better.

“Hey Y/N, hope you’re doin’ okay,” came that sweet, swingy voice of your favorite secretary. “You’re insanely strong for still comin’ into work even after... well, after what happened. I’m calling to tell you to take a week off, all right? There ain’t no team for you to work with, but me and Mishra can hold down the fort for a bit, okay? You rest, visit your sister or something. You’re exerting yourself. Also, I’ve emailed you the number of my therapist. She’s great. Don’t be afraid to give me a call if you need anything, all right? I’ll see you in a week, okay? Don’t come to the office! Bye-bye.”

You huffed to yourself in frustration, slamming your phone down on the bed beside you. Visiting your sister sounded like a great idea, with the exception of being at such close proximity to Namor and his people. There would be no way to avoid the water of course, between your sister and her frequent strolls on the sand and your niece and her addiction to surfing.

Either way, you booked a flight for the next day. The entire flight down to Yucatán you wrestled with yourself, with your morality. Namor had killed people. Probably more in all his years of living, more than what you had witnessed. To forgive him was so forget those he had killed, even if they were horrible people like Bernstein or Reynolds.

But there was something about him that was magnetic. His brain, his loyalty, his pride of where in which he came. The regard to which he held his people, the passion to which he protected them. The way that he spoke, the eloquence of him, the complexity of his thoughts. He was cruel. He was beautiful.

“Oh god, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” were your sister’s first words upon meeting you at the airport. You lugged your backpack off the plane, offering a weak but genuine smile at the sight of her face and sound of her voice. She hugged you tight, taking your bag from you. Touching a hand to your cheek, turning your face to examine you like your grandmother would, she remarked, “You’re pale as hell. What’d you do, kill somebody?”

You gave a weak chuckle. “I need a coffee.”

“You need more than just a coffee,” she said. “Let’s get you home. And get you a drink.”

The drive to your sister’s house from the airport was pleasant enough, the delicate voice of Lana Del Rey playing from her stereo and the soft morning light shining through the windows of the car. You stared at the horizon, just barely being able to see the blue ocean from where you were. You clenched your jaw and willed yourself to look away.

---

YOUR SISTER DECIDED IT WAS time for you to leave the house. She had dragged you out of bed to put on some nice clothes and then proceeded to pull you by the ear until you reached a local bar. Her husband was watching your niece, leaving the pair of you to your own devices for the night. You sat at the bar next to her, your classic Moscow Mule in your hand, zoning out to the unrecognizable music playing over the speakers.

“Noticia de última hora (Breaking news),” spoke the lady on the news, her formal dress on the small, pixelated television standing out from the high technicolor of the club. “La reina de Wakanda ha sido reportada muerta (The queen of Wakanda has been reported dead).”

Your head snapped up, eyes now glued to the television. Your sister was blissfully unaware, chit-chatting with the barista, who just so happened to be the mother of one of your niece’s girlfriends.

“La cause de la muerte: desconocido (The cause of death: unknown),” the reported continued. You took a large sip of your drink. “Princesa, ahora reina, Shuri aún no ha emitido una declaración. Esperamos ser informados sobre la situación pronto (Princess, now Queen, Shuri has yet to publish a statement. We hope to be informed about the situation soon).”

“That guy keeps looking at you,” your sister suddenly remarked, speaking loudly over the music. You flinched, ripping your eyes away from the television.

“Sorry?”

“That guy,” she lowered her voice and gestured with her chin to the man down the bar. “He’s been checking you out, tryna catch your eye.”

You glanced over to your right; sure enough, there was a man sitting five or six stools down from you, who, at the sight of you turning your head, quickly retracted his gaze.

You eyed him. Based on the sight of him, you estimated he was maybe six foot tall. He had dusty brown curls, with equally as bushy brows and a roman nose. Cute, you thought.

“You should talk to him,” your sister nudged your should. You sighed. You’d feel bad talking too much to this guy when your mind was still occupied on Namor. “C’mon, he keeps looking.”

“I dunno,” you ran a hand across your scalp. “We’ll see.”

“C’monnnn,” your sister dragged out. She picked up her drink and stood up. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’m hoping you’ll be talking to him by the time I get back...”

And with that, she stood up and walked off, disappearing into the crowd. You rolled your eyes. Leave it to your sister to misinterpret your feelings and do something she thought would be good for you but might actually be horrible. You swirled your drink around, watching the vodka splashing against the sides of the class. She had good intentions, your sister, but you didn’t particularly feel like being alone with some--

“Hola,” came a soft-spoken voice from your right. You turned your head; it was the guy from down the bar, his eyes bright and his smile gentle. You blinked. “Uh... anyone sitting here?”

He gestured with his drink to the empty seat beside you. You shook your head no, bringing your cup to your lips to sip it as he sat down beside you. His voice held a slight accent, his voice wavering as if he were unsure whether or not to be speaking English to you as opposed to the Spanish that filled the club.

He twiddled his fingers on the glass of his drink, the condensation of what looked to be a rum and coke wetting his palms. He wiped his hands on a napkin and glanced at you.

“You’re not from here, right? I haven’t seen you,” he spoke, his voice deep and smooth like molasses. There was a charm to him, you had to admit.

“You’d be right,” you told him. “My sister lives here. I’m just visiting from Florida.”

“Ah,” he nodded his head. “My cousin lives in Key West.”

“Bit far from me. I’m from Miami,” you chuckled. His eyes widened. “Three hours from there.”

“Pedro,” he extended a hand. You took it, shaking it gingerly. Pedro smiled.

“Y/N.”

“Was that your sister, who you were just with?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, she’s just running to the bathroom.”

“I know her,” he gave you a sheepish look. “I teach at the local elementary school. Her daughter’s in my class.”

It was your turn to have wide eyes and a smile. “No way! That’s amazing!”

“She’s a great student,” Pedro told you. “I feel like I can remember her mentioning her Tía once or twice...”

Your sister never quite came back from the bathroom. She shot you a text asking if it was all right for her to go right home, and you told her to do whatever she wanted. You continued to speak with Pedro, the conversation eventually straying from the topic of your niece and onto your work, and eventually onto your recent experience on the mining ship. Apparently, word had gotten out about you being one of the lone survivors.

Pedro offered to go for a walk on the beach to talk some more. Hesitant at first due to the water, you eventually agreed. It wasn’t like Namor was going to pop out of the water and reveal himself to you when someone else was with you. You exited the bar with Pedro after he oh-so-kindly paid for your drink, and with your sandals eventually coming off your feet and into your hands, your stride found the sand.

“That must have been pretty taxing, huh?” Pedro remarked when you told him the tale, leaving out the important detail of Namor and Talokan’s existence. “I can’t imagine going through that. You’re crazy strong.”

“All in a days work, I guess,” you shrugged, dragging your feet through the sand. You stopped, glancing off at the horizon, seeing the occasional tale of a dolphin in the far distance.

“Well, I feel bad for keeping you out too late,” Pedro checked his watch, shuffling in place a bit. “You’re a busy woman, I assume.”

“I am,” you smiled at him. “But it’s okay. Need a break every once in a while, y’know?”

“Damn straight,” Pedro nodded his head, running a hand through his dusty brown hair and glancing off at the horizon. He was standing pretty close to you, you noticed, and you weren’t sure whether or not to step back or not. “It was really great to meet you, Y/N.”

“You as well,” you told him honestly. You could sense him leaning towards you. “You’re a great listener.”

“You’re a great-- erm-- talker,” he said bashfully, covering his eyes for a second after saying that. “That was stupid, sorry.”

“It’s all right,” you chuckled. He laughed as well, his eyes glancing from eye to eye, and then to your lips for a prolonged moment, and then back to your eyes.

You couldn’t tell what you wanted, but even as he loomed closer and closer you figured you had less time to decide. By the time he was barely an inch from you, you figured you’d throw caution to the wind and go with it.

He pressed his lips onto your very gently, like he was nervous to do so, and while it was a great kiss, you almost flinched when you closed your eyes and only saw Namor. His great big ebony eyes, the feeling of the curve of his jaw on your palm, the aquiline slope of his nose. You felt your stomach turn, and you pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately said. Pedro’s eyes furrowed a bit, but he said nothing. “I... you’re really, really sweet, and... a great kisser...”

His lips twitched up in amusement.

“But I’m just not in a good place for this,” you told him honestly. “My last...erm... relationship ended on a weird note, and... I’m just not in the right place to be with anyone else. I didn’t mean to lead you on like this. I thought I’d be ready, but I... I’m really not. I’m sorry.”

“I get it,” Pedro gave a kind smile. “Thanks for being honest with me, at least. Weird note, huh?”

You breathed a chuckle. “Yeah. Super weird, super complicated.”

“I understand,” Pedro nodded his head. He reached into his pocket, grabbing a crumpled receipt from the bar and a small pen. He scribbled something down. “Look, I’m not telling you I’m gonna wait, but... if in a few weeks or so, you feel like you could be up to something, call me. If not, then it was just great to talk to you tonight.”

“You’re so nice,” you said sadly. “I’m sorry. I feel really bad.”

“Don’t,” Pedro insisted, handing you the receipt with his number on it. “Really. Take care of yourself, okay? You need a ride home?”

“No, that’s all right,” you shook your head. “I’m down that way. I’ll walk.”

“All right,” he smiled. “I’ll see you around, okay? I’ll tell your niece I met her legendary Tía.”

Pedro left, the only sign of his presence being the size-ten footprints painting the trail to where he went off to, and the lingering feeling of his lips on yours. You wiped at your mouth, feeling guilty, and squeezed your eyes shut momentarily. You needed to think.

The waves crashed behind you as you walked up to the waters edge, your bare feet pressed into the damp sand. The water didn’t quite run over your toes, rather it teetered right in front of them like it was nervous to touch you. You sighed, strolling along it down the beach towards the rocks, dragging your feet in the sand. Each step you took, the water didn’t touch you; it kept creeping next to your steps, hesitant, apprehensive.

You paused at some point, shifting your gaze onto where the water waited in front of you. Lips curving down, you sat down on the sand, your knees pressed together, and put your hands over your face. You didn’t think you would cry, but when you pulled your hands off, your palms were wet with salty tears. So were your cheeks.

Wiping at your face, the beads of your jade bracelet brushed against your jawline. You stared down at it, the beautiful weave-work, the intricate design on each jade bead. Fiddling with it, you stared off at the dark horizon, the moon’s pale light reflecting off of the sea as you felt more tears run down your face.

What was there to do? Each choice felt wrong; to call him, to forgive him for all he’s done and let him embrace you made you feel guilty. Hugging and kissing the man responsible for too many deaths to count. But leaving-- abandoning him, would crush you too much. It was all too much.

“Oh, hell,” you muttered under your breath, shimmying the jade bracelet off of your wrist and holding it up in front of you. Pursing your lips to choke back any more tears, you wiped at your face before drawing your arm as far back as it could go before launching the bracelet into the ocean.

It soared through the night sky, going surprisingly further than you had imagined, and as you watched it plummet towards the water, your heart clench. What had you done? That had been Namor’s mothers! You shot up to your feet, but before the bracelet had disappeared into the blue, a hand shot up out of the water. You froze.

The golden cuff on the hands wrist glimmered under the moonlight, the jade bracelet trapped under the strong fingers. Slowly, an arm followed the hand, followed by a head right next to it. Namor rose out of the sea, water rolling down his shoulders and chest, his brown hair turned black by the water dripping over his forehead.

Unlike usual, he wasn’t wearing his typically adornments; his neckline was void of the golden chest plate, and aside from the small golden cuffs on his wrists, all he wore was the green shorts he always wore. It was like he had suddenly gotten out of bed and fled to the surface without getting dressed.

You stared at him as he waded through the water towards you, the bracelet still in his hand. His face was downcast, bags under his ebony eyes and a frown on his lips. He walked up until he was right in front of you, your feet on the dry sand and his in the water.

Opening up his palm and staring down at the bracelet that laid there, he sighed and said, “Doctor, I hope you didn’t mean to do that.”

“I didn’t,” you said quietly, so soft he almost didn’t hear you. “Well, I did, but... I didn’t. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Namor told you carefully, his voice steady. You blinked at him, frowning, unsure what to say. He stared at the bracelet for a moment, before holding a free hand out to grab your wrist. His eyes shifted up to you for consent to touch you.

You lifted your hand out, and his calloused hands grabbed onto your wrist to slip the bracelet back over your wrist. You got deja vu to the night you first left him, when he gave you the bracelet in the first place. His hands never left your wrist then, and they didn’t now, simply holding onto it.

“Who... who were you with, just now?” he asked in an attempt to be subtle but failing miserably. You couldn’t help but smile a little. You shook your head.

“No one,” you told him honestly, not meeting his eyes.

“You kissed,” he muttered. You narrowed your eyes.

“So you’ve been watching me?”

Namor rolled his eyes, shaking his head and not meeting your eyes but never verbally denying your statement. His fingers fiddling with the string of the bracelet, not daring to look at your face. The brown-black hair on his head had begun to dry, swooping delicately above his brows.

You glanced down to his cheek, your own brows twitching in confusion. Three long cuts drew down the length of his right cheek. A scar had formed overtop of them, and they looked like they had been cleaned up and stitched real nice, but they were so red that you were sure they still hurt. You lifted a hand, as if to touch his face to examine them, but you dropped your head and leaned back, catching yourself in the act.

“What... what happened?” you asked him, staring at the cuts. He lowered his head, bringing the pads of his fingers up to graze over the three scratches. Namor said nothing, just bringing his eyes back up to meet yours, ebony irises trailing across yours. You forced yourself to break the eye contact and look at the cuts again; it was like they were claw marks. “Can you tell me?”

Namor opened his mouth, about to speak, but closed his lips and swallowed his words. You narrowed your brows at him.

“What did you--”

“Come with me,” he extended his hand suddenly. You blinked, glancing down at it.

“Sorry?”

“Please come with me,” he rephrased. You stared at his hand, at his calloused fingers and bronze skin. “I would like to show you something.”

“Tell me what happened first,” you took a step away from him, eyeing him carefully. He sighed, and in his silence, you glanced down to the wings at his feet only to see that on his left ankle, only one wing remained. In the place of where the other one once was a bright red cut that had been poorly stitched. His entire ankle was bruised. “Oh my gosh, your... your...”

“Talokan went to war,” Namor said bitterly. “Against Wakanda.”

You breathed a curse, only biting at the inside of your cheek. Your mind wandered back to the news report about Queen Ramonda’s death. You met his eyes and gave him a look, your heart sinking.

“You... you didn’t...?” you gulped, staring at him. His brows twitched upwards, his lips curving into a frown. “You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I had to,” he shook his head. “It was my people that were on the line.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” you pointed a finger at him. “She had a daughter. You killed her mother. Can you even imagine what she’s going through?”

“I can,” Namor told you firmly, stepping forward. “And I have.”

You said nothing, just frowning at him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gathering himself, before he looked back down at you.

“And that is why I need to show you this,” he put out his hand for you to grab again. “I need you to see where I am coming from.”

“Where are you taking me?” you glanced at his hand, meeting his eyes for a moment before sighing and taking it. You hand folded into his, your heart twisting at his touch.

“Talokan.”

---

THE JOURNEY INTO THE DEPTHS of the ocean was like nothing you had seen before. Namor had taken something out of his pocket, one of those devices you saw his soldiers wearing over their mouth and noses. You had barely held onto your consciousness as he swam you down there, and it wasn’t until you reached some kind of half-above half-below water area that you felt fully awake.

“Much ch'aik u ba'al u nook' síis yéetel jump'éel tin taasaj (Please grab her some fresh clothes and a suit),” you heard Namor speak. Your eyes fluttered open, and he had taken the device off of your nose and mouth. Your head was in his lap, you realized. “Níib óolal (Thank you).”

You blinked a few times to wake yourself up; glancing about you, you saw the color of the blue water reflecting off of the white stalactites and stalagmites around the cave, making everything appear to be shades of blue. You groaned, your head pounding as you tried to sit yourself up. Namor’s head snapped down to you.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he said, steadying you and helping you as you sat up. He had a small smile on his face as you glanced around, feeling discombobulated. He glanced over to his right, where a woman with blue skin stood. “Wa pudieras Mach ti' ba'al u jantej... jump'íit ja'...(If you could grab her something to eat... some water...).”

The woman immediately disappeared into some other room behind her. You blinked at Namor after watching the woman walk away. Clearing your throat, you croaked, “Is this Talokan?”

Namor chuckled. “No. This is a half-way point, so to speak. I have to get you in a suit. And out of these wet clothes.”

He lifted up your soaking wet sleeve before lifting his head and glancing elsewhere. You glanced down at yourself, realizing that your white shirt was soaking wet and entirely see-through. You felt your face get hot as you wrapped your arms around yourself, but you felt less uncomfortable then you would’ve though; Namor was purposefully not looking, his ears slightly red, glancing over at where the woman had disappeared. You saw the wings on his ankles flutter.

“Waye', K’uk’ulkan (Here, K’uk’ulkan),” in came another woman, carrying what looked like some kind of dress, as well as one of those little devices to go over your nose and mouth. Namor gave the woman a nod of his head in thanks, and, helping up to your feet, took the dress from her to hand to you.

“You may change into this,” he told you. You took it from you, the linen and cloth soft against your cold skin. You blinked at him. He blinked back.

“Not here,” you told him pointedly. “Where can I...?”

His lips curled up and he chuckled before pointing to a small room behind you. You went in and changed, stripping the wet clothes and shivering before you draped the dress over you.

It warmed you up quick, but without a mirror you had no way of telling if it was on the right way, so you assumed it would be fine. You emerged from the small room, and Namor smiled at the sight of you.

“Suits you,” was all he said, biting the inside of his cheek as if to stop himself from smiling to wide at the sight of you in Talokan’s dress. “Let’s get you into a suit, then.”

“What for?” you asked, following him as the pair of you ventured further into the cave. “I thought I could just wear that thing over my face.”

“Oh, no,” Namor shook his head. “You are human. The pressure of the ocean would crush every bone in your body. Even my considerable strength couldn’t save you from it.”

“You know,” you gulped. “You’re not really selling this underwater-city thing.”

“The suit will keep you safe,” he reassured you with a joking smile, opening up a rather large closet and pulling out a type of diving-suit. “Step in.”

The suit felt bulky and uncomfortable, but you were the knowledge that it would keep you safe so deep in the water had pacified your anxieties. Practically waddling behind him, the pair of you dove into the water, and he lead you to a stream of rushing water.

“In you go,” he said, nudging you so you were in it. Without warning, the water pushed you at top speed into the depths. You yelped, but glancing behind you and seeing him laugh at you made you a little less worried. It was still equally as terrifying.

The deep ocean was darker than you thought it would be, and at some point you couldn’t even see your hands in front of you. It wasn’t until the stream fell off that you realized there was a light coming from your suit, helping you see. Namor came to your side and guided you further across the sand.

A giant whale bellowed above you, making you flinch and jump inside the suit. Namor laughed at you as it swam by, waving to the three Talokanil that were holding into its fins. Your jaw was permanently agape, and Namor took you by the arm and pulled you towards Talokan.

It was like nothing you had ever seen before. It was reminiscent of all of the ancient mesoamerican artifacts you had seen in Yucatán, but entirely its own type of architecture and energy. It was practically dipped in vibranium, every building and structure shining under a source of light you hadn’t found yet.

Kids played with balls, women and their babies waved hello, others were farming further down below. Upon seeing Namor, those nearby bowed their heads and opened their palms to him, just as they had on the mining ship. Namor, always, greeting them back. Some stared at you like you were a ghost.

A child swam up to you, curious. She looked young, maybe four years old at most. She greeted Namor, to which he greeted her back with a grin, before she turned to you and tapped on the glass of your suit. You giggled at her, and she clung onto your arm, swinging from it.

Someone called out from the distance, and the girl only giggled more before letting her grasp on you go. She waved goodbye and swam away, laughing the entire way. You watched who you assume to be her mother, grab her by the waist and lift her, spinning her around with a grin. This place was beautiful, you thought. These people were beautiful.

You glanced at Namor; he was already staring at you, a smitten smile on his face. He didn’t look away until he gestured you to follow him again. You did so without hesitation.

Glancing off into the distance, was the sun. Well, maybe not the real sun, but it was almost as bright as it, and hung in the air as if it were setting.

“Woah,” you breathed out loud, staring at in wonder.

“It is called the Sastun. We use it for our rituals. In the depths of the ocean,” Namor said, staring at it as if it were the first time. “I brought the sun to my people.”

You turned to him, amazed. This was all his, you thought. He was in charge of protecting this entire nation. Your heart was churning in your chest, not just at the sight of him, but at the sight of all he had built here. You felt like crying.

“Do you see?” he asked you, breaking the silence and turning to face you. “You must know that I do not... kill... because I am cruel. Or for sport. I do it because I am willing to do anything for them. For this, I would kill a thousand vibranium-hunting scientists, if it meant keeping them from finding us.”

You only stared at him. The knowledge that he has killed never sat well with you. But, guiltily, you understood. This was his home. These were his people. It was his duty to protect them. You got it.

“Come,” he said after a very long pregnant pause. “Let’s get you out of that thing.”

---

EVENTUALLY, THE PAIR OF YOU MADE your way back up to the cave where you could survive without the suit or the device over your nose and mouth. Your clothes, to your amazement, were perfectly dry when you took the suit off. Wiping off the water that had dripped onto you from the taking off the suit process, Namor lead you into a room that was an offset of the main one that you had woken up in.

On the walls were beautifully painted murals, depicting what you assumed was the history of Talokan and it’s people. You stared at them, strolling about the room; Namor stood at the doorway, staring at you as you stared at the paintings. One was of a woman holding a child with winged ankles; you assumed it was Namor’s mother. One was of the Black Panther-- showing the battle you assumed he fought recently.

On the table, however, was a canvas. Around it and on the floor were crushed balls of papyrus, covering in smudged charcoal and ink. Namor hastened forward and grabbed the canvas off of the desk before you could see what was on it, and slid it into the drawer.

“What was that?” you asked. Namor shook his head.

“Unimportant,” he told you, very obviously lying. “Just... sketches.”

“Hm,” you squinted at him before sitting down on the chair. “These are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, gazing up at them. He ran his hand over the one of the woman and her infant, his fingers tracing the face of the woman.

“Is that your mother?”

“It is,” Namor sighed. “I told you before that I could understand what the Princess was going through, and I was telling the truth. My mother wasn’t killed, no, but my people were. My mother and her village were driven from their maize farms by Spanish conquistadors who brought smallpox, hateful language, and dogma from another world.”

He dropped his hand from the mural, turning around to face you. He pulled up the other chair to sit across from you, sighing again and continuing.

“Facing starvation, war and disease my people turned to Chaac. Our god of rain and abundance. My mother was pregnant with me at the time. She did not want to ingest the plant, for fear of what it may do to me. But the Shaman was convincing. The plant took away their ability to breathe air, but it enabled them to draw oxygen from the sea.

“My people settled in the ocean, away from the war and were cured of their diseases. My mother gave birth to me here, and I became the first born son of Talokan. I was different from other Talokanil. A mutant. I looked different. I was small in size. A runt. But I could breathe the air our ancestors breathed.

“I could swim in the sky and aged slower. As she grew older, my mother mourned the life on land that she once knew and died with a broken heart. My mother made me promise to bury her in the soil of her homeland. But nothing could prepare me for what I would find.“

“What happened?” you asked, however you had an inclining that you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Terror,” he told you, a grave expression on his face. “My people. Enslaved. By the Spanish.”

You swallowed. You knew it. You studied this in school, how the Spanish “explored” and conquered areas in Mexico and Florida. The look on Namor’s face made you want to cry.

“A Spanish man of faith cursed me as he died by my hand,” he continued, shaking his head. “Called me el niño sin amor.”

“Child without love,” you translated.

“And I took my name from that. Namor. Because I have no love for the surface world,” he grabbed a type of cape off of the back of his chair and draped it over his shoulders, fiddling with the cloth. “Upon returning, I was made King, recognized as K’uk’ulkan, and Talokan grew under my rule.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” was all you could say. “That’s... I just...”

You could feel your chest churning, your eyes welling up. You were embarrassed of the level of your empathy, how much you cared; you hadn’t realized he meant so much to you, not fully. Hearing his pain, the struggle of his people, it was like living it. He frowned.

“I’m sorry,” you covered up your face. “I don’t mean to... I’m just--”

“Don’t apologize,” he moved his chair forward, gingerly removing your hands from your face and holding them in his own. “Please don’t. It warms me to see that you understand the gravity of the situation I am in.”

“I don’t think it was right of you to kill Queen Ramonda,” you told him, sniffling. “But I... I guess I...”

“I don’t think it was right of me either,” he admitted. “I think it ruined any chances of Talokan becoming peaceful allies with Wakanda. We are allies, now... but... it is not how I would’ve hoped.”

“I get that,” you told him, relishing in the feeling of his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles across your knuckles. There was a long silence. You were relishing in the warmth of him, his closeness. It had only been two months since you saw him last, on the boat, but even that, you realized, was too long.

“I must get you home, now,” Namor told you finally, a slight frown on his face, his eyes knowing. You gazed at him, your teary eyes unable to do anything else. He was right, you knew that; your sister was no doubt hysterical. But you couldn’t find it in you to move. “Unless, you... well...”

“What?” you tilted your head to the side.

“You could stay,” he shrugged. Your lips curled up. “Here. It’s safe, there’s plenty of food and water... many of my people stay up here. We could find a way for you to go down to Talokan without the bulky suit, and--”

“Slow down,” you breathed pleasantly, leaning forward and cupping a hand to his cheek. He shut up instantly, leaning into your hand. “I have a job. And a sister. I... I can’t just...”

“I know,” he heaved a sigh. “Worth a shot, no?”

“I can’t live here,” you told him. “But for the night... well...?”

Namor suddenly grinned, wider than you had ever seen him grin before. The apples of his cheeks had turned a berry color, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Leaning towards you, he pressed his lips onto yours. You could feel his smile through the kiss, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself as his hands cupped at the sides of your cheeks.

He led you to stand, getting to his feet as well, and pulled you flush against him. You breathed him in, finding it hard to smile as your lips moved against his. The pair of you wandered backwards towards the far wall that was empty of the mural.

Your back hit the wall, and you giggled against his lips as he moved to you two were practically chest to chest. Namor grinned too, pulling away from a second, both hands still on either sides of your cheeks, and he stared at you for a second.

“Nib óolal, Chaac, tuméen taasik teen ti' leti',” he mumbled to himself, kissing your lips again before kissing your cheekbones, your forehead, your nose, your neck.

“What’s-- that-- mean?” you asked, struggling o speak because he kept kissing you and interrupting.

“Nothing,” he grinned cheekily. You narrowed your eyes.

“C’mon,” you nudged him. He shook his head.

“You’ll find out later,” Namor told you, rubbing a thumb across your cheekbone.

“Promise?” you lifted up a pinky. He furrowed his eyes, staring at it. You giggled and peeled his free hand off of you, linking pinkies with him. “Pinky-promise.”

“That is ridiculous,” Namor declared. “Yes, I promise. I don’t understand this pinky-thing.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again.

---

translation:

“Nib óolal, Chaac, tuméen taasik teen ti' leti'.” -- Thank you, Chaac, for bringing me to her.

taglist:

@childishnewt @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777 @chaoticevilbakugo @blue-chup @qirsupply @artsynellyyy @vlamley @lovenewfandoms @lulu-83 @seraphimcollections @kingtwhiddleston @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @tian-monique @kentucky-criedfricken @takeyour-pants-off @this--is--music @queenmeraairam @katsukiswrld @lokidbadguy @cherrywinepoison @maah-sama @reallysparklychaos @agustdboyoongie @jurneesjourney @mik-bxrnes @i-reblog-fics-i-like @mcximvffs @kaqua @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty @aliyahsomerhalder @justkay2 @only-his3 @deadlydahlias @lunamoonbby @yoshiiib0 @writers-hes @lansy-4 @rhymingtree @xxmilli

a/n: having wakanda forever on disney plus has seriously fueled my fire. thank god we got these high quality gifs now cuz my guy looks stunning

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rottenpumpkin13 · 8 months

Note

Tell us more about the day Sephiroth visits Banora! Needing some fluffy First trio feelings rn.

You got it anon <3

• It's the first holiday in the year after the war is over. The base is buzzing with excitable SOLDIERs either getting ready to go out or—if you were really lucky—visit home for the holidays.

• All 1st class SOLDIERS are granted this luxury. The newly-appointed Director Lazard even encourages it, pushing the overworked operatives to indulge in some normalcy for once.

• Sephiroth sits in a comfortable armchair in the SOLDIER lounge. He's watching Angeal and Genesis sprawled out on the ground. They're wrapping gifts for their families and Genesis is grumbling about how he hasn't finished packing yet.

• Sephiroth would have offered to help, but he's not apt at gift wrapping. Truth be told, he doesn't even know what holidays entail. All his life Christmases, new years and others had either been spent monotonously in the labs or out in the battlefield.

• "You could come, you know," Angeal tells him. "My mom would be overjoyed to have you back at home."

• "So would my parents!" Genesis adds. "They're dying to meet you, Seph, and my parents' house has plenty of room."

• Sephiroth isn't included to take them up on the offer. After all, he has no family of his own and he wouldn't want to bother his friends'

• But Minerva blessed him with two persistent country hicks who refuse to go down without a fight.

• Before Sephiroth is even aware of what's happening, Angeal and Genesis are in his apartment, throwing things into a suitcase and raving about Banora.

• Sephiroth had never before experienced the helpless anxiety that keeps swallowing him alive on the flight. He's mulling over childish thoughts, but they're valid to his inner vulnerable-self. What if Angeal's mother isn't welcoming? What if Genesis's parents are suffocating and unkind?

• All worries dissipate as soon as he steps foot in Gillian's home. She's naturally maternal, pulling him in for a hug and complimenting his hair.

• He follows Genesis's lead, who's already sitting at the table and reaching for the nearest slice of banora white apple pie.

• They make conversation and Gillian makes sure to feel Sephiroth feel included by asking him about his interests and dislikes. Sephiroth finds it odd. She never once asks him about the war nor about SOLDIER. It's as if she's talking to a young child. He's not used to this.

• Soon enough Genesis's PHS rings with a call from his parents and it's time to go. Sephiroth and Genesis bid the Hewley's goodbye and make for Genesis's childhood home.

• "Don't worry," Genesis tells him once they're finally out of the village, "They'll be coming around for dinner later and I intend on persuading Angeal to sleep over."

• Mr. and Mrs. Rhapsodos are....not what Sephiroth expected. At all. He quickly realized that whenever Genesis complained about his overbearing and vapid parents, it must've been a product of a rebellious teenage Genesis.

• Mr. Rhapsodos has a firm handshake and sharp eyes. But he's smiling and complimenting Sephiroth's awards and position in the war effort. Mrs. Rhapsodos is exactly fifteen seconds into fussing over "Genny's" unkempt haircut before she acknowledges Sephiroth. Sephiroth immediately likes her. She asks for permission to hug him and smells like apple and cinnamon.

• After being dragged into more conversation and finding that Genesis's parents are equally as gossipy, sarcastic and flashy as their son, Genesis grabs Sephiroth and leads him upstairs.

• With the excitement of a 10-year-old during a playdate, Genesis throws open the door and shows him his childhood bedroom.

• Sephiroth stumbles into what's clearly still a child's room. Despite the huge bed, the shelves are all neatly filled with books, toys and other childish knick-knacks.

• "Mom and dad refuse to redecorate it," Genesis says as he plucks a toy robot from the shelf, "they refuse to, quote, kill the little boy they raised."

• Sephiroth palms the patterned quilt on the bed and smiles. "Genny?"

• Genesis throws the toy robot at him but Sephiroth dodges, laughing.

• After Sephiroth gets settled in his room, Genesis's mother calls him down for dinner. Angeal and Gillian arrive, and Sephiroth notices how close the two families seem to be. Genesis's mother and Gillian immediately immerse themselves in conversation, and Genesis's father tell the two boys a story about the first time he picked up a sword.

• Sephiroth watches, feeling out of place. The dinner table is ornate and stacked with steaming dishes, tarts, cakes and fresh fruit. Gillian notices and quietly places her hand on top of his. It's a silent gesture. She doesn't say anything, but Sephiroth immediately understands her wordless concern through her soft smile.

• He tries his best to fill his plate with the food he does recognize, and the dinner topic falls on embarrassing stories from Genesis and Angeal's childhood.

• Soon enough Sephiroth is choking on Banora White cider and holding back his laughter. Genesis and Angeal are red in the face from embarrassment. Mrs. Rhapsodos made it a point to go grab a photo album to corroborate her story.

• Dinner ends and Angeal agrees to sleep over for the night. Genesis insists they have the "sleepover that Sephiroth missed out on" and all sleep in his room.

• This is how the night meets it's end for the boys. Genesis is braiding Sephiroth's hair while Angeal is looking for a very specific Sephiroth action figure he's sure Genesis hid.

• Genesis starts quoting LOVELESS as a distract, and Sephiroth flings a pillow at his face. This starts a pillow fight, of course.

• Soon Sephiroth is under the blankets in the middle of the bed. Angeal and Genesis are on either side of him, both boys are using Sephiroth as a pillow and are fast asleep.

• Sephiroth stays up a little while longer. Genesis and Angeal had fallen asleep talking about all of the things they were going to do tomorrow, and Sephiroth admits to himself that he's excited.

• Sephiroth finally shuts his eyes. He doubts he'll be able to get any sleep with Genesis and Angeal's joint snoring, but he's happy.

#ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #ffvii crisis core #final fantasy #ff7r #angeal hewley #ff7 crisis core #final fantasy 7 crisis core #crisis core #crisis core headcanons #final fantasy vii #writing

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m7z · 4 months

Text

In memoriam

I spent the last 30 minutes or so skimming through my Tumblr archive from 2011-2012 trying to find a post I know I wrote about my paternal grandparents’ love story, but I couldn’t find it. I probably moved it to another blog at some point and deleted it here. Along the way though I found all these other memories from my early 20s, such as my coming out/confession letter to a best friend from high school, many reblogs of sappy quotes/graphics/book snippets/lyrics, reblogs of photos of places I wanted to visit (many of which I’ve now been to), songs I liked, tech news from the era (like the death of Steve Jobs), political news from the era (like marriage equality, and Barack Obama’s reelection), many reblogs about Glee, my own photos from my early days of living in San Francisco (and interning at Twitter)… All of which is to say, it captured this whole era of my life from ~10 years ago that, in retrospect, was quite pivotal.

The reason I went looking for that post is because I found out yesterday that my grandpa passed away. My dad texted me and tried to call when I was in the middle of a work meeting. I registered the text but didn’t respond, and then called back after. It was the middle of the night in China at the time (around 2am), and he learned the news earlier when my aunt had called him, and she’d been notified by the staff at the seniors home where my grandpa had been living.

As I processed the news and decided on my plans, I told people the context that he had suffered a series of strokes and had been on the decline since last summer, so this news didn’t come as a shock. This is in contrast to my paternal grandma’s passing in January 2022 (also January) from a heart attack which was sudden, quick, and utterly shocking. As the matriarch of our family, her death had hit everyone really hard then.

At his passing, my grandpa was in his late 80s, possibly 87 or 88. Which is objectively quite a remarkable achievement for someone born into the chaos of 1930s war torn China to a poor rural/farming family. He joined the communist army as an accountant/admin, and then the local police after the war, and then worked at the state hemp/cotton company until retirement. He and my grandma met in their 20s, fell in love and got married despite oppositions (this is the story I had posted about that I was looking for), had 2 kids and 2 grandkids (one of which is me), traveled, had health issues and took care of each other, and grew old together.

I realized yesterday that I wasn’t reacting as emotionally as I did to my grandma’s passing — one because he’d been on the decline, and my dad/aunt thought he almost wasn’t going to make it after his last severe stroke in July. I think I had emotionally prepared for this back then, and so expected this to happen at some point. The other reason is that his quality of life in this last year, after these strokes, had become quite poor. He couldn’t eat or talk or walk, and had become reduced to almost just skin and bones. It had become painful to see him in this state, and I’m glad he’s not suffering anymore.

However, at the same time I still feel sad and regretful because I was hoping to see him at least one more time. Even though he hasn’t been able to speak since July, and he didn’t really recognize anyone anymore… even so, I was hoping he'd hang on until I visited again.

When my grandma passed in 2022, the pandemic, travel restrictions, and lack of flight options had made it virtually impossible to travel back. The last time I visited China was October 2019. Since then, in the last few years when we called, they’d almost always ask when I can go back again. My grandpa did this all the way up until his last stroke in July when he couldn’t speak anymore. When the pandemic largely ended in 2022, I’d always say “soon”, even knowing it was impractical with the Chinese government's onerous visa policies. When they finally reinstated the pre-pandemic visitor visa policies in March 2023, I started to say that I'll go back during the summer, then the fall, then the winter, then the spring. One reason is that the flight options were both expensive and inconvenient, but the larger reason is that I prioritized other plans in my life. I'm not sure where I could've squeezed it in, but I do regret that I didn’t try harder to visit sooner.

Circling back on the whole “eras of my life” thread — I always felt like as long as my grandparents were around, I still feel like a kid in some way. They treated me like one, still babied me whenever I visited or called, and would remind me of funny anecdotes from my childhood. I know I’m pretty lucky to have gotten 30+ years with almost all 4 grandparents in my life. I also know I’m lucky that they loved me as much as they did — because not all of my friends had the kind of close relationships I did/do with their grandparents.

Growing up, I was always pretty close to my grandparents, more so to my grandma who I genuinely enjoyed talking to and would call regularly, but I have many fond memories with my grandpa too.

I recall when my family first immigrated to Canada, I would cry about missing them. Later when I went back to visit as a teenager, I would cry on the flight back to Canada.

My grandpa liked to write simple rhyming poems after he retired, liked to drink and smoke and only quit in his 60s, and liked to sing Chinese opera. One year for my birthday, he wrote a “hidden message” poem where the first word of each verse added together would say “happy birthday <my Chinese name>”.

One really special memory of him I have is when I was in kindergarten, and during afternoon nap time (which I hated) he showed up unexpectedly and took me out of school. We didn’t live in the same city but he was in my city for a work trip, and he’d decided to take me out of kindergarten early that day so we could spend time together. I remember it feeling so unexpectedly awesome — one because I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to (skip school) but also because of the surprise visit itself.

The only time I felt emotional yesterday was when my mom told me how, even though I won’t be able to attend the funeral, I could pay my respects at both of my grandparents’ gravesites when I visit. The thought made me emotional because… they can finally be reunited again, or at least not be separated by death.

Didn’t really know what I was going to write when I started this, and the words kept pouring out, but I’m glad I did.

#my stuff #family #reflection #a real blog post

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fullfiresiren · 1 year

Text

unconquered // 8

[8; varying degrees of warmth]

[read on ao3]

A week has passed since the incident at dinner.

Princess Helaena visits you often; in your apartments to sew, in the gardens to sketch, or just to pass time walking through the Keep. She brings you gifts she finds endearing, or ones she thinks you would enjoy -- an assortment of colored ribbons for your hair, romance and fantasy novels from the library, even some pastries she asked the cooks to make especially for the two of you to share. Where you have lost closeness with Prince Aemond, you have gained it tenfold with the princess. You grieve the loss of it, and yet, warmth blooms at your new friendship.

She mentioned briefly in first early days after what had transpired at supper, that her bull-headed brothers behaviour was undeniably uncouth, and there were no excuses for it. She had relented, however, that she would be happy to speak with him on your behalf, should you wish it. You did not; stubborn temperament refusing to bow and submit. Prince Aemond was at fault, so Prince Aemond should speak first. As the days progressed however, she spoke of it less and less. Until, one morning in her apartments, as the both of you sat sewing on her blue chaise longue, she felt the need to speak.

“My brother has a terrible habit of being unable to admit his mistakes,” she voices with a sigh, as if it will change your opinion of the situation. “Although I have no doubt that he knows he was wrong.”

You do not look up, gaze transfixed on your work before you, continuing to sew a small blue dragon in flight amongst four others. Your skills have grown since you first began, and although you are far behind Princess Helaena's ability, there is a visible improvement that has you proud.

“Indeed,” you murmur, wishing the topic would lay itself to rest once and for all. Instead, others drag it from the dirt to inspect continuously. “I could more easily forgive his pride had he not wounded mine, princess.”

She looks saddened by your words, but, ultimately does agree. Her obtuse brother will not soon hear the end of this from her, and likely, until the matter is resolved, neither will you.

“The weather today is lovely,” you change the subject quickly, hoping she follows suit. “It would be a shame to waste it indoors.”

“You sound like your lady’s maid,” she giggles, and you scoff good-naturedly.

“She is right, though. Why are we not taking advantage of the grounds? You know how much I adore them, princess.”

“Sewing outside in hot weather is distracting,” she speaks, adding, “and you know you need not call me ‘princess’ any longer.”

Close enough to finally forgo titles, you smile down at your work, friendship truly solidified. “Of course... Helaena...”

She nudges you affectionately with her shoulder -- an action you have come to realise means encouragement and closeness. Unbeknownst to yourself, you are Helaena’s first, and only friend.

Suddenly, she sits more upright, posture a little forced, and turns her head towards you. Her eyes linger on her embroidered beetle, but every so often, they flick upwards to your face.

“Perhaps... we should finish our sewing now, and meet in the gardens in an hour?” she suggests, but it is as if she is reading from a book, or piece of parchment.

You give her a curious look. “Yes, I... that would be nice...” A raise of your eyebrow, and then, “Why in an hour? Why not now?”

Her eyes glint with something you are unable to place when she says, “To give us time to ready ourselves, of course.” It seems like a flimsy excuse, and so she adds, “I also wish to check on my beloved children.”

At the mention of her issues, you readily believe her. You assume they are with the wetnurse, or maids currently. Children are to be loved, cherished. They require constant attention from an ever watchful attendant, and, you suppose, when a mother is without them for a while, a part of her heart aches to be reunited. You nod in understanding, placing your work down near her elusive sewing box.

“Ah, of course,” you smile, standing to leave her be, “Let us meet in an hour, then.”

She sees you out with fondness, and, once you are walking down the hall, calls out to you.

“In an hour, (y/n),” she reminds, waving to you, all formal titles discarded to make way for a blossoming familiarity.

You turn to glance over your shoulder.

“An hour,” you confirm.

You do not return to your apartments; no need to change, nor eat, nor rest. Instead, with nothing else to do, you choose to make your way down the length of the Keep, straight to the gardens. The princess told you to meet in an hour. It matters not that you are early, only late.

Your shoes click with each step you take to descend the stone staircase towards the open grounds, and crunch when you reach the pebbled paths. You set a leisurely pace when you walk, hands clasped behind your back, taking in your soft surroundings.

The garden is as you always remember it to be; vibrant green with delicate specks of color here and there. As if an artist has taken liberties to separate their monochromatic canvas with signs of life in every hue. It is refreshing for the eye; kindred to the soul. The air today carries the thick scent of wet earth, and when you scan the grounds for the reason, you become aware that the workers tending to the nursery seem to be planting a new row of fruit trees. Intrigued, you wander over.

A young man on his knees pats down loose soil around a sturdy sapling. Upon the crunching pebbles that sound out your approach, he glances over his shoulder.

“H-High Lady,” he starts, smiling up at you, dirt smeared across his features. He seems surprised at your appearance, and stops what he was doing, asking shyly, “Is... there something I can help you with?”

“What are you planting?” you ask, taking a step forward to inspect it closer, curiosity growing.

“Blood oranges, my lady,” he replies. “From Dorne. They were imported upon request of the King. I have heard when they are ripe, they release a fragrant scent.” You must look overly interested, and he satiates your need for knowledge, by adding, “We don’t know if they’ll take in the climate here, so we’re being careful with the planting, and taking extra care to grow them.”

“How lovely,” you murmur. “Can these be eaten like regular oranges?”

“Y-yes, my lady. When they grow larger and sprout fruit, you can pick them from the trees,” he explains, adding hastily, “should you wish.”

He seems entranced by you; your features, your way of speaking, your manner, and glances up at you like you are some kind of deity.

All the workers at the Keep have heard tell of you – the mysterious high born who arrived on dragon back, but bears no lineage to the crown. With little to no interaction with you, and your staggering notoriety and favor from the King, the small minds of the castles’ household began to wander far and wide. He has heard the rumors about you. That your beauty, they say, is striking -- almost unearthly. Some of them even go so far as to call you a witch. Some older and more cynical laundresses say you never bleed, not even once. The cooks whisper that you only eat raw meat, and one scullery maid swears to the seven that she saw you worshipping the full moon one night.

But as you stand before him now, he believes only one. Your beauty is not of this earth.

You smile at him. “I wish you luck, then, in your work.”

“T-thank you, my lady,” he nods, and you continue onwards, leaving him to stare after you in a trance.

When they grow fully, you expect orange trees would compliment the grounds very much, and perhaps one day, you can take the joy of sharing one with Helaena under the shade of the Wierwood tree. The thought warms you, but you grow cold when a breeze reminds you that as of this moment, Prince Aemond will not be a part of that future.

The grounds, however, never fail to ease your crowded mind and hush your thoughts. Something about being in amongst nature calms your fire. You wonder if it would be too much of you to ask the King for a room that overlooked the gardens? Perhaps. The view from your room now is undoubtedly splendid; one that stretches across the city and the Narrow Sea. Too low, however, to see the beaches, nor your beloved dragon.

Any room with a view makes you feel less like a prisoner.

Sometimes, when you step out onto the balcony of your apartments to gaze across the ocean, you wonder if you are staring in the direction of your homelands. Separated by distance and time. A thought that is sobering, and leaves you hollow.

From your path, you notice a head of long, soft white, and a light blue gown appear from the edges of the gardens; unmistakably the princess. The hour passed quicker than you thought it would, and you make your way over to her quickly. She moves to stand at the base of the stone steps that gives those coming from the castle entrance to the gardens, looking up as if waiting for someone -- waiting for you, of course. What a surprise, then, when you call out to her from across the grounds.

“Ah, Helaena!” you greet, quickening your pace to reach her. She turns, a little shocked, but holds out her hands for you to grasp. You readily accept them. “I have a wonderful idea! Let us introduce Dreamfyre and Archeon! We could ride them together over the city or the Narrow Sea? Wouldn’t that be excellent?” you gush. “Today's weather is perfect for... a... flight...”

You trail off when you notice Prince Aemond descend the stone steps behind her.

Like a ghostly apparition, or a phantom spectre, dressed in his usual melancholic black, he is graceful when he moves, but abrupt when he stops. He has spotted you, face hiding poorly concealed shock, eye growing wider before it narrows at the back of his sister’s head. You glance at Helaena, and she gives you a meek look.

You have half a mind to turn and stomp all the way back to your apartments, impudent at being tricked. Not willing to risk looking like the defeated party, however, you hold your ground until the Prince himself makes the first move. If he stays, you stay. If he goes, so will you.

You hear him sigh out sharply through his nose, and, after a moment of painful contemplation, continues down the stairs until he is before you both.

“I thought the three of us could use a calming walk in the gardens,” the princess explains, moving to stand between you both, linking arms with her brother, and then with you.

You realise you cannot escape, nor back away, and so, when she sets a pace, you can do nothing but keep up.

The atmosphere is horribly tense and high strung, and judging from the look on Prince Aemond’s face from the brief glances you shoot his way, he would rather be anywhere but here. You take offense, despite feeling the same. You turn away, refusing to look in their direction. A traitorous friend and a silent fiancé.

“My future sister and I were sewing earlier,” she speaks, filling the silence. “Isn't that right?”

Her affectionate word usage does not go unnoticed by you, and she nudges your side when you keep quiet.

You answer indignant. “Yes.”

“I found it most enjoyable,” she continues, guiding you through the grounds, and towards, you notice, the Wierwood tree. You have realized by now, that she has already planned something without your knowledge, and now, all you can do is brace yourself for the results. “Do you remember when I tried to teach you to sew, brother?”

Prince Aemond refuses to answer, allowing his sister to drag him about in the hopes that she’ll let go and he can retreat. But she has him tightly, and will not give up.

“We were young, and you would cry whenever you pricked yourself--”

“Yes,” he grits, willing her to cease talking. “I remember.”

“I so loved to sew,” she continues, “and you detested that I had to learn alone. You used to sit with me for hours, then, no matter how many times you hurt yourself. Do you remember the maester had to make a special salve to help with your cuts from the needle? I believe only you know the correct ointment to ask for--”

“Indeed,” he forces, giving her a particularly hostile look.

Your suspicions, however, are confirmed. The healing ointment was intended for you, and it was a gift from the prince.

Helaena stops abruptly, under the delicate shade of the ancient Wierwood tree, the canopy stretching out far beyond its trunk. She sighs. Her trick was craftily done, and well executed, but now, she fears she has not planned far enough ahead. This is the perfect place for you two to talk; secluded and quiet, but now, she fears, with her here, nothing will be said.

“Ah!” she exclaims softly, and far too pronounced for it to be natural. “My centipede! Oh dear, I believe I left the roof of it’s tank open... this will not do... I must return to my apartments to check, please excuse me!”

You give her a pleading look, silently begging her to not leave you alone, but she slips from your grasp like smoke, smiling excitedly at you from behind her brothers stiff back. And with that, she takes her leave; the only thing that fills the silence, is the soft chorus of songbirds.

You stare adamantly ahead, stomach twisting uncomfortably with nerves and apprehension. The prince does the same.

When a minute passes and nothing transpires, you decide to sit at the base of the tree. Leaving is defeat, but staying is victory, no matter the silence that hangs over both decisions.

Prince Aemond stands for a few moments longer, and you feel his eye on you. You dare not look at him, burning humiliation from supper still raw, and stare out across the secluded area before you. When he finally accepts that you will not meet his gaze, he sits slowly, placing himself further from you than necessary.

A breeze flits about the two of you, rustling the auburn leaves above.

“Did you receive the ointment?” he says aloud suddenly, looking away. You notice he has taken to playing with the strands of grass by his thigh.

You glance down at your hand, no sign of cuts or injury thanks to the salve you had been using. “Yes.”

“Good.”

You hear the branches above you creak softly, a few birds perched overhead take flight, as if they sense the oncoming storm. Prince Aemond is more forceful, you notice, as moments pass by, with the grass by his side, ripping out clumps and throwing it away, lips pursed in annoyance. Chaos is coming, you think.

“If you did not wish to marry me, you should have voiced your opinion sooner,” he says firmly, turning his head only slightly towards you, but keeping his eyes transfixed on where he is massacring the ground. There is something shifting under the waters of his voice that foretells of a lurking danger. He make his signature hum, but it sounds derisive. “Finding out at dinner in front of my family was detestable.”

You are genuinely confused by his words, taken aback by the distain in them. Frowning at him with a bewildered expression, you say, “I don’t understand--”

He meets your gaze hotly, and bites with more force, “I said if you did not wish to have me as a husband, you should have confided these feelings with me in private.”

“I feel no way of the sort,” you retort, scowling at the accusation. “What exactly are you accusing me of--?”

“I saw your reaction to my fathers words, my lady,” he lowers his voice, words laced with venom, “To the date of the wedding being set. You sat in fearful silence, and only relaxed when my sister reassured you that marriage is not that bad. Anyone who is happy to be wed would react in the opposite way--”

“You have great experience, then, in being wed to another?” you ask sharply, the question an obviously rhetorical one. “Of the innermost feelings of women? Of myself?”

He falls silent, but his eye grows wide and wild. Stories forewarn that you should not taunt a great beast, but they fail to recognize you are far more fearsome.

You stand your ground, and hold his gaze.

“Or are you making assumptions, my prince?”

You are sure that only your status and gargantuan dragon are keeping you exempt from the customary manners of court. Should you be anyone else, you believe speaking to a prince in such a way would mean your imminent death. How lucky for you, then, that no amount of power frightens you, when your own easily encompasses it.

He remains silent, and you have more to say.

“You humiliated me in front of your entire family, and your actions have left a searing wound on my--” you wonder whether or not to voice it aloud, but your adrenaline commands you to, “...on my feelings for you. You, too, were silent at the news. Does this mean then, that you loathe the idea of marrying me? Of being my husband?”

You leave the question hanging heavy in the stagnant air, chest heaving.

His face, however, abruptly changes, as if a sudden realization has dawned on him. The strength to look you in the eyes fades quickly, and he turns, scoffing. There are no words that form on his tongue as he stares out over the grassy path in front of him. A long moment passes where you fear he will not say anything at all. And then, ever so quiet, he speaks.

“It does not.”

Your emotions are raw with the confrontation, but a sense of calm washes over you. Like you have faced the raging storm and withstood its wrath.

“I told you I would not be insulted nor hurt if you rejected me,” he says, calmer this time, but you notice his fingers have returned to picking at strands of grass and dirt. He is not fully convinced, nor is his statement true. He was very obviously hurt at your rejection. “So tell me with honesty, my lady.”

You wait for the question but it does not come. A glance towards him, and he is already looking at you with an expectant expression, waiting for you to give him permission.

“Ask me, my prince.”

“I...” he trails off, murmuring, “...do not wish to ask.”

“Find the courage,” you say, unwilling to allow him to flit around his meaning. He should be forthright with this.

He sighs, heavy, and full bodied, like he has been mentally drained by the events. His hands come to rest in his lap, and he looks to the heavens, keeping his eyes there when he finally does ask.

“Do you wish to marry me?”

The question is heavy, but it was what you were expecting. You lean your head against the tree, staring up at the canopy above you. The sun glints through the leaves, and with honesty, you answer.

“I do not wish to marry you out of duty. I wish to marry you for love,” you say. “But never once have I not wanted you to be my husband.”

The silence returns, but this time, it is soft, calm. The maelstrom has passed, and now, the tide only ebbs against the shore.

He tilts his head forward, looking down into his lap; pristine appearance tarnished by his own doing. Pale fingers now smeared with grass debris, under his nails, earth.

“Please forgive me,” he whispers, “for my actions... and for my assumption. I... was wrong.”

My brother has a terrible habit of being unable to admit his mistakes.

You say nothing, heart thundering in your chest at the acknowledgement of his words. Despite what his sister claims, he has owned his wrongdoings -- for you. For the assumed loss of you, he was gripped tightly by anger and shame, wounded deeply by your perceived rejection. From you, only you, he asks forgiveness.

Prince Aemond of house Targeyen is rumoured to be many things. One-Eyed savage, full of bitter resentment and vengeance. Disfigured vortex of fury and wrath. Ladies cannot bear to be around him, men fear to look him in the eye. A dangerous mix of talent and perseverance that warns others not to toil. He readily commands the largest dragon, and yet, sits beside you soft, and quiet.

Her brother cannot admit mistakes. Your fiancé begs absolution.

He looks at you now, face filled with gentle sadness at your silent state.

“Have I ruined everything?” he whispers.

“On the contrary,” you murmur, smiling, “I am perhaps more fond of you now.”

He grows red in the face, looking down, and asks, “Do you forgive me?”

“Yes,” you answer, “I do.”

His eyes flash up at you, and he gives you a tentative smile. You return it readily.

“Speak to me,” you start, and he holds your gaze, “if you feel a bridge developing between us. The worst distance between two people is misunderstanding.”

He nods mutely, holding tightly to the phrase. He once heard his sister say that love is a strange and inexplicable mix of comprehension and misunderstanding. He does not want love to be anything other than warm. Varying degrees of it.

Prince Aemond does not care about a great many things. To be hated? It does not phase him. To be misunderstood? He is indifferent to it.

But to be either, by you, frightens him. Truly.

“I am sorry,” he whispers.

“I am sorry, too,” you murmur back. “I feel terribly for the ground, though. It seems like most of your anger was fixated there.”

He laughs, glancing down to patches of earth ripped up from his own fingers. “I was frustrated,” he hums.

“I know,” you acknowledge, sighing out peacefully and closing your eyes. “I was frustrated too.”

“By me?”

There is a soft insecurity that lingers about him. The more you have gotten to know him, the more you understand his cold and stoic exterior is to make up for that. Only his sister has been allowed to see through it. Now, you have been gifted the same.

“By the situation,” you reassure, peaking an eye open to glance at him. He is already looking at you. You close it again, and relax. “Never by you.”

You do not need to look to know that he is smiling.

[part 9]

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond fanart #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon

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miszswan · 2 years

Text

PEOPLE YOU KNOW - ii.

part 1

yall...i'm sorry about the length of this <3

It had been fifteen months. Fifteen months since she’d last seen him. Fifteen months since she gave up. Fifteen months since she finally chose herself.

If you were to ask Amiria when the horrible painful part of their relationship started, she could definitely say a year and a half into it.

She started noticing the slight increase in jealousy and possessiveness when she started booking more roles and traveled more. From Vancouver to London, a whole year where she wasn’t in the same place for long periods of time. Meeting new people, becoming close with many too.

Jack must’ve snapped because next thing she knew… she’d see clips of him dancing with other women on Instagram. She’d always confront him but eventually the apologies and promises became meaningless.

From FaceTimes of I love yous’, laughs and tales to FaceTimes that ended in tears, heartbreak and manipulation.

Amiria used to think that one day things would get better but overtime that became harder to believe. Somehow she found herself booking last minute flights to see his shows, spend a night with him and she’d return to work feeling more emotionally drained than before, all because he put the idea into her head that it was her fault that they were constantly arguing. So she tried her best to make it up to him.

Meanwhile it was never her fault. It was always his.

Time after time she’d risk her job and career for a man that would never put any effort into coming to her, times where Neelam, Urban, Clay, Sunni hell even Druski would come visit her on set. To see her in her prime. Not even when they were in the same city, he’d never come.

If there was one thing that Amiria Campbell hated about herself would definitely be how much hope she always had, how kind and thoughtful she was. Those were things that prevented her from seeing that this relationship was a losing game.

When they first met it was amazing, picnic dates every week, movie nights every month, wonderful memories filling the years.

It was honestly embarrassing that she had any more hope when she woke up the morning after and went to set. Found herself throwing up during her lunch break. Thinking that Jack would finally change due to the idea of a baby in the near future.

But she was proven wrong again.

While it was a spontaneous decision she left and hasn’t looked back since.

Did it take a while to get over him?

Yes?

Is she still hurting?

Also yes.

At times if she thinks about it too much she may find herself tearing up randomly but mostly the thing that triggered it the most would unfortunately but not surprisingly, her daughter.

Ani Maiah Margaret Campbell was absolutely perfect. She had the tint of Māori in her skin while bearing her fathers piercing blue eyes. With a mop of curls, courtesy of her father that were as brown as her mothers locks. The most perfect tiny hands and most adorable laugh.

She was the perfect creation of her and Jack. Whether she was planned or not. She was the Pandora’s box to all of her mothers good and bad memories of him.

But for the sake of her future and her daughters’ she had to erase the man from her heart and mind. Piece by piece. Bit by bit. She’d heal over time and rise like a phoenix from the ashes stronger than ever.

Every film and tv series she’d filmed over the past few years had been absolutely worth it.

So now a day had come. One of many. Amiria was honestly finding it very hard to sleep because of all the excitement for the premiere in a couple hours. While her mother and 6 month old daughter we’re having no trouble at all.

The three had flown to New York City a week prior for the premiere of Stranger Things Season 4.

Aroha Campbell had only heard her daughters rambles about being absolutely thrilled for everyone to see what they’d been working on for the past three years or her granddaughter trying to speak which often resulted in a bunch of random babbles and noises.

After spending a few weeks in Bunbury, Amiria returned to Atlanta accompanied by her mother who insisted on moving in with her for sometime. Aroha and Stephen knew thier would push everything… including her career aside to take care of her baby. They also knew how long and how hard she had to work to get to where she was and that if she took this long break it would be even harder to go further.

That’s how it’s been since April the previous year and Amiria couldn’t be more grateful for her parents. Ani was the most easy going baby and it was absolutely perfect, especially after everything Ami had gone through.

So now the three are in a hotel room in New York City. Her co stars in neighbouring rooms waiting for their stylists to arrive and prepare them for the red carpet.

Amiria slowly pulls her fingers out of her baby’s tiny hand and gets out of bed. After freshening up she quickly gives her daughter a bath and dresses her up.

Just as she gets a bottle of milk out of the mini fridge she hears a knock at the door.

“Morning Mrs Campbell.” Amiria hears the sound of her best friend greet her mother. “Good morning to the hottest most amazing single mom I know.” Camila adds on as she gets closer to the mother and daughter.

The moment Ani recognises the familiar face, her arms stretch up in efforts to reach her. “Good morning princess.” Camila coos as she tickles the babies stomach.

Ani let’s out a symphony of giggles that make the three women smile. Camila hands the ice coffee and chocolate croissant to her friend.

“You are a goddess.” Amiria praises her as she takes a sip of the cold drink.

“How did the princess sleep?”

“She was quiet.”

“As usual.” Camila mentions making Amiria snicker as she straps on her babies dipper.

“Thank you for going easy on your mother. She’s had a lot of sh-“ Amiria send her a look towards the end. “Stuff to deal with over the past year.”

“Nice save.” Amiria teases as she puts on the pink one piece onto Ani.

“But seriously I’m happy that she isn’t a lot to deal with. Not like he who shall not be named.” Camila rambles while Amiria makes funny faces to stop Ani from squirming.

After months of not seeing him. Hearing Camila ramble about her hatred for him was honestly one of the most entertaining things she had done. It honestly just made Amiria laugh.

“I haven’t seen or spoken to him in over a year so he really shouldn’t matter anymore”

“Except he does. He’s still Ani’s father and one day she will ask questions about him. I mean you still talk to his mom, dad, Clay. I’m just surprised you didn’t run into him at the met gala a few weeks ago.”

“I know but I’m just avoiding the inevitable.”

“Which is?” Camila says wanting to hear Amiria admit it.

“Someday I’ll have to see him again.” She responds as she gently brushes her daughters hair.

“Which might been sooner than you think.” The moment the words left her mouth Amira paused. “Me knowing you, you’re going to invite the Harlow’s and if they come he surely will.”

Amiria had taken a low of time planning everything to the point where she knew that he wouldn’t be in Atlanta during that time.

“He won’t be in Atlanta or anywhere close to my house in a week Cam.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He’s never given a shit about my family’s traditions. His family always mattered more, no matter the occasion or the holiday.” Amira assures her best friend. “Besides he has a couple shows in New York and LA.”

“Wait doesn’t that mean he’s in the same city as us-“ Camila starts before the two hear the door close and Aroha Campbell stands in the door frame with the bottle of milk in her hands.

As Campbell women spend a few minutes talking while Camilla plays with her Goddaughter, Amiria returns with the bottle. She takes her baby into her arms and the child begins to suck on the bottle.

“If I run into him, I’ll deal with it.” The words that come out of Amiria’s mouth catch Camila off guard.

Mainly because she’d gotten used to her best friend avoiding him at all possible moments. She was even shocked that she didn’t run into him at the Met Gala considering it wasn’t hard not to. Knowing Ami she probably ducked and dived, took the iconic mirror selfie and left with her head held high.

“I can take care of him if you need me to. I just need to yell at him in Portuguese and he will run away.” Camila offers as Ani continues to gently drink her milk. The baby’s eyes are closed and her mother watches her daughter with a look on none other than complete adoration.

“I can’t hide from him forever so I might as well acknowledge the fact that I will see him again one day. I’m still friends with Neelam and Urban, Druski and the rest of PG. So when I do I’ll deal with it then and make sure he stays the away from me and my family.”

As Amiria finishes her sentence, her daughter finishes the bottle. “We don’t need him, we’ll be okay taku iti. I’ll always protect you”

***

After many hours of getting ready ( outfit without the necklace and earrings) and putting Ani to sleep so she wouldn’t cry when she realized it was only her grandmother and her in the hotel room for the next several hours, Amiria finally hit the red carpet.

With her signature blinding smile she poses for every photographer in her presence. Then she does a few interviews and after a few minutes of autographs, meeting fans and hugging her co-stars she reaches her last interview.

“Amiria Campbell looking stunning as ever.” The interviewer greets the actress with a smile who does a little twirl. “Really sets the tone for this season? You've got to describe it for us.”

“All I can say is questions will be answered but more questions will be created too.”

“Does this apply to Manny too?”

Amiria purses her lips as she tries to think of an answer that doesn’t include spoilers. “In a way it does but you’ll just have to wait to find out.”

“Can’t wait but this is a big year for you. You’re set to star along side Tom Cruise and Miles Teller in Top Gun: Maverick which is a sequel to its iconic predecessor from the 80s, Yellowjackets was renewed for season 2, you wrote and are staring in a show for the MCU and you had a daughter only a couple months ago. You are doing it all.” The interviewer rambles making Amiria let out a laugh.

“It was a lot I’m not going to lie but I’ve had my family by my side through it all.”

“Will we ever find out who the clearly wonderful father of you beautiful daughter is?” For a split second the smile on her face faltered while a clear sudden look of despair fills her eyes but she quickly brightens them both up and continues.

“Give it like a decade so I can really surprise everyone. That’s the goal.” She ends off her little tease with a nod that she hopes is convincing.

She couldn’t let people ever find out. Not only did she feel embarrassed but she wanted to keep Jack Harlow and her family name away for as long as she possibly could.

“He must be very proud of you. He must be cheering you on from home” Her smile falters again but she picks it up again.

“He is.”

No he isn’t and he never would.

“Have a good night Amiria. We’re rooting for a happy Manaia Thompson this season.” The interviewer says as Amiria walks away.

***

Hours later, the episode had ended and the cast and crew were at the after party. Amiria had just come back from making a tiktok with Noah, Caleb and their sisters when she decided to go outside for a breather.

The night had been magical to say the least but Millie, Joseph along with the rest of her cast mates had noticed something was off.

Camila and Joseph were looking for her when the former found her in the parking lot sitting on the bench.

She slowly approaches her best friend, Camila frowns when she hears the familiar sniffs as she gets closer.

The moment Camila sat down beside her Amiria quickly wiped away the tears.

“Oh honey.” The Brazilian says as she pulls her into a side hug.

“I hate that I have to tell Ani one day that her father didn’t give a shit about her.” That sentence alone makes Camila tense up. “The whole world thinks we’re happy living this suburban parent lifestyle with a white picket fence and all that corny stuff.”

“I know you want that corny stuff honey.”

“I really wanted that. I don’t know what hurts more the fact that I let Jack break my heart so many times or the fact that one day, when my daughter is old enough, her father will break her heart. I don’t want her to end up like me.” Amiria continues to sob making Camila place a gentle kiss on top of her head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Going from the pride and joy of your whole neighbourhood to not even seeing it for 2 years because you kept going back to the same person who I let walk over me over and over, being treated like crap over and over. Cutting off your closest friends and family because you thought you knew the real him.” Amiria rambles as the many memories flood her brain. Who knew that a single question would cause everything to crumble? “I don’t want Ani to end up like me or Jack. My mom, dad or grandparents are much better candidates in my family tree.”

Camila was shocked to say the least. She takes Amirias face in her hands and wipes the streaks of mascara away with her thumbs. “First of all. Never say that bullshit again. You Amiria Imogen Maiah Campbell are the strongest person I’ve ever known. Ani would be lucky hell she’d be blessed to end up like you. You know why?” Amiria shakes her head as she sniffs gently.

“You fought for love my dear. Not just love but the future you wanted. You’ve grown so much. I remember you rambling to me after we went to that one film festival about how Oncology didn’t feel like your calling anymore how you would like to do something else with your life. I also remember how scared you were to tell your parents the truth but they were proud of you regardless. They still are or else they wouldn’t be flying half way across the world to be with you in a few days. You’re a single mother, you’re booked and busy, a show you wrote, starred and directed is coming out in a few months. The list goes on but babe! Come on, you’ve accomplished so much more than some of our fellow actors have in their 10 years in the industry. I can practically smell your Oscar!”

Amiria laughs as her best friends words materialise into the more brighter memories of the part few years. The ones without Jack. The ones where she would bring her film camera to work and take pictures with her cast mates. The ones where she’d put on her headphones and spend hours on her laptop writing the script she’d only dreamt about as a kid. The ones where she’d be with Urban, Druski or Neelam and she’d just found out she got nominated for her first Emmy and many other awards. The special moment where she first held her daughter despite the traumatic hours before.

All those good memories meant something.

“You are a badass Ames, never forget that. It’s not and it never will be your fault that you lost your fight for love. Jack never has and never will deserve you. He’ll never deserve that large ass heart of yours. If, no when Ani turns out like you, the world will become a thousand times better. I promise you.” Camila adds on making her lips upturn into a sweet smile. “One day you will find that person who will make you feel a hundred times better than that asshole. You’ll have the wedding of your dreams, the honeymoon of your dreams and you two will raise another badass and maybe have a few more. Whatever you chose to do, your future is bright babe. Got it?”

“Got it. Thanks Cam.”

“Always. I love you girl. I’ll always have your back.”

“Love you too.”

“Let’s get you freshened up because I think Noah wants to make more TikTok’s.” The two women stand up, link arms and walk back inside.

Just as they reach the bathroom, Amiria realises she left her phone on the bench and Camila offers to go get it.

She never expects to see him there.

There he stands, holding his exes phone in his hand, staring at the lock screen which is of Amiria and Ani. The mother holds the baby in her arms and the baby girl reaches for the stars with a gumless smile while Amiria shines her signature Peary grin. If Camila wasn’t radiating rage that was hotter than the fiery gates of hell she would've asked herself if she just saw Jackman tear up slightly.

He backs away slowly when he notices she’s there.

“This is a private event Jackman. What the fuck are you doing here.”

“I just want to talk to her.” He pleads.

“Absolutely not. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away.”

“Camila please. I just want to fix things, that’s all I want.”

“You think I give a damn about what you want. It’s always been about you. It’s been over a year and you’re still the same narcissistic asshole.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Can’t you for one second stop and maybe consider the fact that maybe she isn’t ready to see you or doesn’t even want to.”

“I have to make things right. I want to be there for her and A-“

“You of all people don’t get to say her name besides why did it take fifteen months for you to come to your senses? Is it because you don’t want the world to one day find out that you’re a fucking dead beat?”

“No, I’ve been trying to reach out for months but she’s blocked me on everything and I don’t blame her.”

“You really have some nerve.” Camila scoffs. “Give me the phone and if you ever truly cared about her, you’ll stay away.” She says as she snatches the red covered phone out of his hands and makes her way back to the door.

“I love her! And I’ll never forgive myself for everything that I did to her while we were together. I just need her to even look at me or say something. I wanna hold or just see my daughter not just a picture of her. We haven’t been apart for this long and it’s driving me insane Camila.”

“You had two out of the three years you two were together to fix yourself. At least now you know how she felt.”

“Camila please, I know she’s having her family tradition thing next week.”

“You never gave a damn about her family’s traditions.”

“I know my parents and Clay are going.”

“But you somehow didn’t make the invite list.” She mentions with sarcasm laced in her voice. “It’s a really important day for her and Ani.”

Vivid memories of Amiria rambling about her favorite traditions come to his mind but they’re all a blur because he never paid any attention.

He knew that if he wanted to get on Amiria’s good side again he’d have to play his cards right.

And her best friend wanting to murder him right now was definitely not the way to do it.

“Just tell her I’m sorry.”

“You can say it to her yourself when she actually wants to see you, until then. Stay away.”

With those last words Camila Mendes marches back through the door. As she gets closer to the main hall where everything was happening she can’t help but let her mind wonder.

She knew that one day Amiria would have to let Jack back into her life. She just hoped that no one would pressure her into it.

Once she’s back in the room where everyone is conversing in meaningless banter she spots Amiria, Gaten, Maya, Noah, Caleb and their sisters filming another Tiktok.

She chuckles as she makes her way to the group of seven.

Amiria notices her best friends pressence behind her and quickly walks towards her.

“What took you so long? You missed our song.”

Camila knew lying to Amiria now would get her no where. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Are you okay?” Amiria asks noticing the change in her friends mood since she saw her ten minutes ago.

“I’m fine Ames, let’s go ask the DJ to play our song again.” With that the two women link arms and walk towards him.

Sooo that was part two

Damn it, that was a lot😭😭

I’ll try make the next part shorter unless y’all don’t mind the long chapters?

Please let me know 🫶🏾

Anywhoo hope you enjoyed

Masterlist

taglist

*let me know if you want to be added*

@a-moment-captured

@iheartharlow

@iikximii

@fashphotolife

@sluttywh0r3forw0m4n

@msliz

@jackierose902109

@gassyandsassy1

@awhoere4more

@rio-lover

@unfuckwitabella

@longingtobewithu

@fulla02

#miszswan talks #jack harlow #amiria campbell #people you know series #courtney eaton #amiria imogen maiah campbell #camila mendes #stranger things 4 #jack harlow x woc #jack harlow angst #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader

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ggomos-maribat · 10 months

Text

A Real One for Christmas

Cross posted from AO3

You know, when I said I was ready to return the favor,

I didn't expect it to be like this

Pleaseeee? 🥺🥺🥺

It's just for one Christmas dinner

EVERYONE has their own boyfriend or girlfriend now

And Ma and Pa's been asking when I'm getting together with someone

you're overlooking something here

your best friend knows me

how do we explain that to them?

we just tell them the truth

we met online and hit it off

uh huh

he won't ask questions in front of the family

i think

i can think of a million reasons how this can go wrong

it won't🙂

wow that smiling face is really assuring

that's good ^ _^

seriously?

another question..

am I supposed to know about your powers?

that's the fun part

if they know you're a 'civilian'

they'll be fighting to hide their powers

and/or tech

thru the whole dinner

you're actually evil

haha

this is me getting back at them

so i'll fly you on the 20th?

i can't fly with you

you need to book me a flight, im in Paris

France

Europe

Or else they'll be suspicious

Right

I'll ask Dad to help get you one

What about HM?

I'll make a prediction here and say that he won't be attacking a few days before christmas

cause he'll do it on christmas

but just in case, I can bring Kaalki or you can fly me

or I can ask Chat to cover for me

okay

see you :3

hey, this makes YOU owe me a favor

but this is your return

this isnt equal to what u did

it is :3

Marinette sighed and flopped on her bed as she threw her phone to her side. Meeting Jon Kent had been both luck and misfortune for her. One day, he was just a cute stranger she met after a boredom-filled night and then the next, they had accidentally found each others' identities when Superboy happened to pass by Paris.

She dragged out a groan. What on earth was Jon even thinking with that charade? They were facing a family of Kryptonians and detectives for crying out loud.

"What's the matter, Marinette?" Tikki flew in munching on her last cookie crumb.

"That was a very regretful groan."

She screamed when she saw her partner's head pop through her open skylight. A pillow was instinctively thrown at Chat, who dodged it effortlessly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she glanced warily at her trapdoor, hoping her parents wouldn't come rushing in.

Chat dropped down on her bed and stretched. "Meowch. Can't I visit my dearest friend every now and then?"

"I think Marinette has a predicament," Tikki tattled as she nestled on top of Chat's head.

"Oooh, what predicament? Do share, M'lady."

Seven pieces of cookies, two more woeful groans and a story later, Chat was laughing out loud.

"You think this is funny?" Marinette scowled.

"I'm sorry," Chat wheezed, not at all sounding remorseful. "But you and I have read enough fanfiction to know where this is going."

"But this is not fanfiction. This is real life."

"And in real life," the black-clad hero sang, "Jon Kent likes you."

Marinette scoffed. It wasn't that easy of course. Jon was one charming smile after another, targeting her unsuspecting feelings while not knowing anything.

"So?"

"So. . .?" Chat cocked his head.

"What about Hawkmoth?"

"Him? I can take care of the city while you're out," he replied. "You go enjoy your little Christmas getaway while I—"

"Should we exchange our Miraculouses?" Marinette asked her kwami.

Tikki gave a half shrug, "I don't mind joining Adrien for a while."

"Yes! Two days with no cheese smell!"

---

The flight to America was uneventful, but the car ride to Kents' was. Jon had reminded her before and after her trip that he and Conner were picking her up. She'd lied to him over text, saying that she wasn't nervous at all, but her rapid-beating heart was betraying her.

And Plagg wouldn't shut up about it. And asking her for a charcuterie board at dinner.

She could only make a futile attempt to control her heartbeat in the old farm truck with two Superboys.

"Marinette, was it?" Conner smiled at her through the rearview mirror.

"Uh . . . Yeah." She squirmed. Jon squeezed her hand. She squirmed some more.

"By the way, Dad wanted to pick you up instead of Conner but he has dinner duties," Jon explained, "He told me to tell you."

"It's okay. I'm thankful he paid for the flight and everything."

"Jon told me you met online," Conner pressed, earning a frown from Jon. "He wouldn't elaborate."

"We just started off as chat buddies and the next thing I know we were getting closer and he asked me out."

"Hm that's interesting." A slight smirk popped up on Conner's lips. "Jon's never mentioned you before."

"This is exactly why," Jon pouted. "You'll scare her off."

A fake gasp. "Moi? I'm just a guy from Smallville. No one too special."

"Eyes on the road, Kon. And don't go too fast, this isn't your motorcycle."

"So how did Lois react when she found out?"

Marinette saw Jon shudder under his holiday sweater. "She was furious."

She paled. "Your mom got mad?"

"I should've seen that coming anyway, because I never told them." Jon raised his hands. "Not your fault, though! Mom's excited to meet you."

"How exactly did you meet?"

"Kon. Questions later. Focus on driving, jeez."

Marinette swallowed. If they had to pull off the act in front of Jon's family, she had to step up. "It's okay, Jon." She touched his arm. "We met in an online chatroom and we've been talking ever since."

"Tinder? Grindr?"

"Kon!" Jon's cheeks turned into a deep shade of red. "Can we talk about something else? What about you and Tim? Talk about that."

"Me and Tim?" Conner smiled widely, almost evilly. "You want to talk about us? Tonight we're going to make lo—"

"Okay, okay! Not that!" Jon raised his voice. He turned to Marinette. "Sorry."

She squeezed the side of her bag which was starting to shake from Plagg's giggles. "It's okay. I promise."

"You shouldn't have come—"

"Hey, no, we already agreed to this, didn't we?" Marinette smiled shyly. "We're doing this dinner."

Withholding a smirk, she laughed. "And it's not like I can fly back to France in a minute."

And to this, Conner's eyes widened as the car swerved sharply to another lane.

----

Lois Lane was first to tackle her as soon as she stepped through the front door. She stumbled back a bit, but managed to return the tight hug.

"Marinette! I'm happy you can make it." She turned her head briefly to the commotion behind her. "I have to apologize—we're not yet done with the preparations."

Marinette could see half of the Wayne family staring at her curiously from the kitchen. She pretended not to notice as Jon took her coat. "It's alright, Ms. Lane. If there's anything I can help with—"

"No, you're our guest! You can sit here first and the table will be set in a few minutes." The reporter hurried her to a comfy couch in the living area. "And please, call me Lois."

"Thank you . . . Lois."

Jon leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Dad needs me to help with a few things. Will you be okay on your own?"

She took his hand gently. "Of course. Go."

He gave her one charming smile before going. At the same time, others came filing in . . .

. . . And an arrow sailed past her head and into the wall.

"ROY!"

"That is my new—ow!"

A blue-eyed man snatched the small contraption from the archer, glaring at him pointedly.

"We have a guest, idiot." Another man strolled into the room.

Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Jason Todd, Marinette made her guesses. Jon had already told her all about them, even going as far as to share their quirks and personalities. Nightwing, Arsenal, Red Hood.

"I am so sorry!" Roy's eyes went wide. "It was for my . . . Er—archery competition!"

Jason smacked him.

"Didn't we already tell you about this?" Dick hissed while pulling out the arrow from the wall.

Roy mumbled a response that Marinette couldn't make out.

"Really really sorry for that." Dick turned to her. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I'm good!" Marinette assured before their arguments worsened. "It didn't hit me."

"Good." Dick glared at Roy again. "I'm Dick, and these are Roy and Jason."

"It's nice to meet you," she smiled sheepishly.

"Guys, you're crowding around the poor girl." A woman in a wheelchair entered, and the others gave her space.

"Hi, I'm Barbara, you can call me Babs." The woman offered a welcoming smile which Marinette returned. At that moment, more people were ushered into the living room, by the Wayne's butler who was brandishing a spatula and muttering about banning them from the kitchen.

Marinette felt a chill down her spine.

There, at the corner of her eye, he was staring at her. Calculatingly.

Crap, he definitely recognizes me.

She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Jon.

---

The Kents and Waynes (read: Alfred) didn't disappoint with the food. Marinette realized how hungry she was when she gazed at the dining table.

"You have to try Ma's apple pie," Jon whispered next to her. "I bet your bakery can't compare."

"I'll be the judge of that," Marinette rolled her eyes. She settled next to Jon, across from Clark and Lois. Damian was diagonal from her, making it more difficult to avert her gaze.

After the setting of the table, passing of bowls, picking up of servings, Clark made small talk within the light chatter.

"So Marinette, what do you like to do?" Clark asked.

"Art. Designing," she replied, "Helping my parents bake."

"Oh come on," said Jon, "Marinette is a prodigy. She's been recognized by Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeois gave her an offer once."

"Big names in fashion," Bruce Wayne commented, sending Marinette into a blush, "That's impressive."

Jon piped up again before she could kick him under the table. "Her designs are amazing. And Jagged Stone regularly commissions her for concert pieces."

"Wagged Shtone?"

"Master Timothy, please don't talk while eating."

"You know Jagged Stone?!" Tim gaped at her after swallowing down his food.

"Jon's exaggerating." Marinette tucked her hair behind her ear, "It was just a few pieces for his concert."

"Don't downplay it, Mars, you're talented," Jon smiled gently.

"Looks like you're very proud of Marinette," said Lois.

"O—of course I am! She's my girlfriend after all."

"Well, I'm happy Jon brought a wonderful girl home," Ma Kent beamed, handing Marinette another piece of baked lasagna.

"Can you get me an autograph from Jagged?" Roy asked.

"Me first!" Tim cut in.

"I'd like one too," Kara joined in.

Marinette laughed nervously, "I'm sure I can get one for everyone." She glanced to her side. "Umm . . . Conner are you okay?"

He continued rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, someone threw a tree at me too hard while we were collecting firewood."

An invisible tension (which Marinette purposefully ignored) swept across the room. Beside her, Jon spoke up. "Hey, I said I was sorry!"

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows, resisting a laugh when she saw the semi-panicked faces of the others. "Jon threw a tree at you?"

Tim conspicuously kicked Conner's leg below the table.

"A tree! Yeah!" Conner's eyes widened. "We collect tiny trees for firewood! Really tiny ones!"

"Oh. . .?"

"Please ignore him." Tim kicked his boyfriend again. "Mari, tell us about Paris!"

---

"Chilly night, huh?"

Marinette could've sworn she jumped to the ceiling as she yelped at the voice. She'd step out into the front porch to get some air as the families cleaned up after dinner inside. She didn't expect the girl who Damian had brought to come approach her.

"Yeah, really cold," Marinette saw her breath fog up. She hugged herself, feeling Rachel stare directly at her.

Rachel had been quiet during dinnertime, but she wasn't a forgettable presence. Marinette knew about her as well (even before she knew about the Kents) because of a mission (more accurately, a snooping errand) assigned to her in the past.

"Aren't you cold too?" Marinette rubbed her palms together.

"I do well with the cold," the girl replied. "Damian's been looking at you the whole night."

Yeah, I noticed that too.

"Really?" Marinette chuckled nervously, gazing elsewhere.

"Yes. It seems like he knows you."

"He must be mistaken . . ."

"He isn't." Rachel shook her head. "I'm not sure why he's suspicious but I trust you."

"Trust---huh?"

"I can feel that you're good. Lucky even." A light smile was on her lips. "You're good for Jon."

I thought the smell of cheese would've masked whatever luck Tikki gives me. "Thanks?"

"I'm coming back inside. You?"

"Uhh . . . I think I'll stay here for a bit."

With a nod, Rachel walked back into the warm house. Marinette released a sigh of relief. Confirming that Damian did recognize and remember her brought back memories.

She wasn't proud of her time in the League, but it wasn't something she can turn her back to either. Especially since she still had to be loyal to its heir. She let out another heavy sigh and—

"AHH!" In a surge of alarm, Marinette threw whoever was behind her over her shoulder. She was suddenly met with familiar green eyes.

"Oh . . . Amir . . . I'm so sorry!"

"It's good to know you still have your reflexes."

She winced as she helped Damian stand back up.

"I will go straight to the point. What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did my mother send you? Is the League looking for me?"

Marinette huffed. "Okay, first of all, that is an insult to Lady Talia. If she wanted to see you, she'd do it herself. Not send me to go undercover in a Christmas dinner."

Damian raised an eyebrow.

"Secondly, I'm not here for anything but Jon. Because I'm his girlfriend," she emphasized. "It's just a coincidence and I even hoped you wouldn't try to talk to me."

"So you have no business involving me?"

"I don't." She glanced warily through the window of the house, wondering if Jon (or any of the Supers) was listening. "Jon is . . . he's really important to me. I like him."

"Does that mean you know about . . .?"

"Yeah, all of it." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "But don't tell anyone. Jon and I are waiting to see how long we can mess with them."

"I see." Damian pursed his lips, putting on an expression that she knew meant that he was thinking deeply. "If Kent hurts you in any way, I have a stock of kryptonite."

"Uhm . . . Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

"No." A tight smile. "I . . . Apologize for misunderstanding. I just haven't seen you since the League fell."

"I'm just in Paris, Amir." Her shoulders sagged. "Trying to live normally. Sorry I haven't reached out."

"We should go back inside. You're shivering."

Marinette followed Damian into the house just as her phone rang. She sucked in a breath, read the message and met Jon's eyes from across the room.

He immediately went towards her and pulled her to the stairs, yelling, "We'll be in my bedroom, don't listen to us, okay, bye!"

---

Jon had offered to take her at first, but she declined to protect their cover. She had taken the Horse Miraculous and rushed back to the Kents' using the space power-up. On a day when she thought Hawkmoth wouldn't strike, he akumatized poor August again.

Marinette had exchanged Miraculouses with Chat during the battle. She sat on Jon's windowsill in her Cosmobug suit as she caught her breath.

"I'm really sorry," she breathed out. "Did they ask questions?"

"They think we're still locked up here so it's okay. How was the battle? Did you get hurt?" Jon scanned her for injuries.

She held his shoulders. "I'm okay. It was a quick fight but I was worried I wouldn't make it back in time."

He pulled her into a tight hug, eliciting another blush. "Sorry I made you stressed out."

"Hey, it's me returning the favor, remember?"

The first time they had met in person, Superboy was in Paris, encountered an akuma battle and accidentally found her identity. She'd made him promise not to tell anyone about what was happening in the city, but he promised to collect the debt.

"And I really enjoyed tonight. Everyone was nice." Marinette grinned. "If not a bit too obvious with their identities."

"Let me guess. Conner and Roy were the most careless."

She giggled. "No, I saw Bruce pocketing a Batarang and Clark reheating the chicken with his heat vision."

Jon laughed along with her, still not letting go from the hug. Marinette buried her face on his chest. I wish it would always be like this.

"I wish it could always be like this," said Jon.

"Hm?"

Her earrings started beeping but she paid them no mind.

"Like . . . Bringing you over. Spending time together," he mumbled. "but we can't. You're not . . . We're not . . ."

She swallowed. "Do you want it to be real?"

He pulled away a little, to look at her properly. "Do you?"

Marinette bit her lip. It wasn't the best time. It could strain their friendship. We'll never talk again!

"Yes, I want it to be real," she confessed. "I've . . . I've liked you for a while now."

His eyes turned bright and the corners of his lips lifted. "Really? Are you sure? Because I was scared you won't feel the same and I made it weird . . ."

Her arms looped around his neck as she mirrored the elated look. "Nope." Her lips lightly touched his cheek. "I like you a lot, Jon."

He was practically buzzing with excitement, which made her want to laugh. "Really? Like really, really?" He held her more tightly. "You want to be my real girlfriend?"

"Of course I do—"

The door clicked open. "MARINETTE! WE GOT YOU PRESENTS—!"

A wave of light flashed and Marinette felt her transformation wear off and a drowsy Tikki floating at her side. Conner, Tim, Dick and Kara were staring slack-jawed at them, crowded around the door.

Jon helped her down the windowsill. "Umm, we can explain?"

#maribat fic #maribat #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #maribat fanfic #jonette #marijon #jon kent x marinette dupain cheng

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quite-right-too · 8 months

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you’ve got good TenRose AUs to recommend???? Any rating, any theme. I just need a treat. It would be really appreciated! Thanks. ♥︎

Absolutely! I usually don’t have a TON of AUs but the ones I have I reread a lot. I will say, these are only the ones I have downloaded to my phone so there are a LOT of other great ones over on AO3 that aren’t downloaded!

Perfect Match by HiddenTreasures (lastbluetardis) - “James grew up hearing the legends of soulmates. How two—or three or four or however many—people could find each other by writing messages to each other on their skin, and he spent much of his time imagining himself with a soulmate, someone who would be his perfect match.”

Little Gallifrey by Endelda & LicieOIC - “Little Gallifrey is a popular London restaurant, owned and led by the Doctor, who runs front of house and creates all the recipes. Rose Tyler is a regular patron who has become more of a friend after all her visits, who puts up with the Doctor's whinging that his favorite food critic, Bad Wolf, has never come to his restaurant. Or, he *thinks* she hasn't.”

In The Clouds by braveten - “When their flight is delayed for seven expectingly tedious hours, John Noble and Rose Tyler make some light conversation that develops into quite a bit more.”

The Undeveloped Story by rudennotgingr - “Following the insistent advice of his therapist, James signs up for a book club in an effort to be more social. That's where he meets Rose, changing his outlook on life from day one.”

I Won’t Blame You by rudennotgingr - “After a night of too much drinking, James wakes up to find someone sharing his bed.”

There’s plenty more but these are the first that come to mind! Enjoy!

#hey nonny nonny #fic rec #thnks fr th asks

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wyattjohnston · 2 years

Text

dreamer (just like you) - andré burakovsky

summary: on midsommar, if you put seven flowers under your pillow while you sleep you're supposed to dream of the person going to marry (or; demi writes yet another summer friends-to-lovers fic)

word count: 2,334

note: set Midsommar 2021 on account of the Avs making it to the Finals this year. its just ticked over to the 25th here in Australia so have fun! thanks to @danglesnipecelly and @matthewtkachuk as always 💚

For a whole week the only thing on the forecast had been rain. Pathetic rain, too. The kind that’s just enough to make hair go frizzy but not enough to just wet it completely.

Nova didn’t want to think about any sort of symbolism associated with the sun coming out the hour André’s plane landed. Especially when the flight had been delayed by so long that the planets aligned just so he could arrive when there was a break in the clouds.

There was still uncertainty around whether he’d come visit her that day. His movements changed every year, dependent on a number of things that Nova had never figured out—sometimes he went straight to his parents and didn’t leave for 24 hours, other times he went straight to whichever house he’d booked for the summer. And then there were the times he had headed straight to her parents’ house right away.

No matter where he ended up, the sun would stay out the entire day, Nova was sure of it, and it would bring much hope for the people religiously watching the forecast for Midsommar.

Early the next morning, Nova was woken by her phone buzzing against her mattress. She reached for it, panicked that she’d forgotten about a meeting or that she was about to be told some horrible news because there was no other reason for somebody to be calling her before nine.

“Rise and shine!” André shouted, causing Nova to rip her phone from her ear and cringe away from it. “Entertain me!”

Nova managed to mumble out, “Find anyone else in Malmo to entertain you.”

“I’m walking over now. Get out of bed.”

Nova groaned but relented and hung up on him immediately so she could at least shower before she saw him. André had seen her in various less than presentable states, so she didn’t care if he saw her when she’d just woken up. She did care if anybody saw her after she’d gone three days without showering because she’d been trying to get through a job.

Her shower and skin care routine were much shorter than normal, though it was clear that her body appreciated any sort of attention it was getting. Even still, André was already sitting on her bed, having hastily and haphazardly folded the duvet at the end of the mattress, when she walked into the bedroom in her terrycloth robe.

“I don’t think this room has changed since high school,” he said, reaching out to the candle on her bedside table. He made a pleased sound as he smelt it.

“You can talk to my parents about that; I only come back for four weeks a year.”

“It’s like a shrine.”

Nova rolled her eyes and opened her chest of drawers. As she stared inside them, she said, “A shrine to the me they wanted and not the one they got.”

André hummed, nobody who knew Nova would disagree with that statement.

Nova dressed with him in the room, slipping her underwear on underneath her robe followed by a pair of shorts. She had no shame in removing the robe, then, and pulling a shirt on.

“Are you buying me breakfast?”

He smiled at her when she turned around, even as he huffed and made a big deal about always being the one to buy them anything when they went out.

The weather had, as Nova predicted, remained perfect for Midsommar.

Nova woke to sun breaking through her poorly shut curtains and the weather app said it would reach twenty degrees, so it was perfect.

They were headed to the Burakovsky’s property, like usual; everyone in Malmö was a creature of habit so plans rarely changed from year to year.

Nova put on a white dress that would undoubtedly become see-through as the day progressed and the kid found water guns, so she’d also put on her nude-coloured underwear because over the years she’d learnt that her white underwear would also go see-through.

Before doing anything else when they arrived, Nova and her mother made a beeline for the kitchen where she knew Pernilla was sure to be slaving away over food despite the fact that there was a well-organised spreadsheet of what everyone was supposed to bring—like everything else, it rarely changed.

“Älskling,” Pernilla said, sweeping the dish from Nova’s hands and all but pushing her out of the kitchen, “I’m nearly done here. Go out the back and I’ll be out in just a minute.”

“Promise?” Nova asked, her expression sceptical.

“Go.”

Nova was shooed out with no room allowed for an argument, especially when her own mother joined in the shooing.

André was nowhere to be found amongst the crowd gathered in the backyard, he was probably going to be late like he always was, so Nova made her way to a group of their friends from high school.

Yet another thing that hadn’t changed, was the realisation that Nova was the only one of her high school friends not married. Her friends in Stockholm didn’t result in the same thoughts running through her mind.

“This year will be the year, Nova,” Emilie said, her hand cradling her heavily pregnant stomach. Nova didn’t know whether it was intentional or habit. “We’ll get you married before the year is out.”

“Yeah? You’re going to magic a man out of thin air for me?”

“No need, the perfect catch has just walked in.”

Nova huffed, her mouth pursed, and she stared at Emilie for long enough to express her displeasure before she’d even turned around. When she did turn around, she wish she’d stared longer.

André Burakovsky had walked into the backyard, his head held high as he greeted everyone.

Nova lost her voice, no matter how much she wanted to snap back at Emilie, because all she could think about was André. He looked ridiculous with an unsuccessful beard, a SnapBack and being loud enough to command everyone’s attention.

He saw the group of them, threw his hands into the air and started shouting enthusiastically. Nova raised her hand in an almost imperceptible wave and then turned to glare at Emilie.

“What are we talking about over here?” André asked, his arm dropping over her shoulders with a casualness that felt all too familiar.

“Nothing,” Nova said hastily, though it didn’t matter.

“Before next summer we’re going to get Nova a husband,” Emilie answered.

“If you think Nova will marry someone she’s known less than twelve months, you don’t know her that well,” André said, rustling Nova gently. “Besides, she’s gotta get to America so she can marry Chris Evans.”

“Oh, shut up, André.”

“Okej, okej.”

He left, the weight of his arm lifting off her shoulders was not as comfortable as she’d expected, and she took a deep breath so she wouldn’t pull him back.

The conversation continued around her, still about her love life but the jokes about André ceased. Everyone was due for one joke about André at Nova’s expense before moving on and the conversation that followed was always about her life in general because she lived away from them all.

With the sun high in the sky and stomachs filled with home cooked meals, Nova joined the younger girls who had started the process of making flower crowns. They’d already done the hard work of gathering suitable flowers, had been searching for a day or two judging from the size of the pile, so Nova’s self-appointed job was to make sure they knew what they were doing.

“Want to make one for me?” André asked, sitting down on the ground beside Nova.

“You should learn this year,” Nova said, pushing a pile of flowers in front of him.

André rifled through the flowers, clearly having no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. Nova took pity on him almost immediately, picking up the wire. She pushed up onto her knees with the wire and a pair of scissors and moved closer to him.

She told him to stay still as she meticulously measured his head with the wire. There was nothing untoward about it, except that André’s warm breath was brushing across her clavicle despite her being beside him because she’d told him to hold still as he was facing her.

“They look so hard.”

“Hockey is hard. Flower crowns are not.”

As it turned out, flower crowns were harder for André than Nova expected, his fingers not quite nimble enough to put the stems where he wanted them and his patience not quite thick as once thought.

Noticing that he was very much struggling and that his frustration was resulting in a very painful looking tension in his face and shoulders, Nova held her flower crown out to him and gestured for him to hand his over.

“That bad?” he asked, a self-deprecating laugh escaping him.

“I don’t want to be here all day.”

He conceded without protest. She ignored the gentle brush of their fingers for her own sanity.

By the time the sun set, and the drinks were gone, people were getting ready to leave. Nova’s parents had long since left, so Emilie was driving Nova home. Emilie was also driving André home because he was staying so near and insisted he could walk from Nova’s.

He walked Nova to her front door, both wrong hands over their mouths to stifle their drunken laughter. Nova was swaying in the door frame, struggling with her keys, when André tapped her on the shoulder.

“For your pillow,” André said, holding out a small bouquet of flowers.

Nova wasn’t sure if it counted if the kids had picked the flowers instead of her, though she wasn’t particularly sure it mattered. She was all about Midsommar traditions, believing in the magical and spiritual properties they all contained; it was just getting exhausting following them so meticulously when they weren’t bringing her any benefit.

“Thank you, André.”

Barely an hour had passed between Nova waking up and André being in her parents’ house. It was amazing to her that, even after nearly a decade since they should have reasonably expected him to show up without notice, they seemed to just accept that he was there.

She could hear their chatter in the kitchen, could hear her father extending an invitation to join them on their walk and André’s polite decline.

He wouldn’t come in to wake her, Nova knew that, so she allowed herself some extra time to mull over yet another Midsommar dream featuring André Burakovsky.

Throughout the year Nova didn’t dream with any regularity and, if she did, it was never about anybody but herself. Whether she had forgotten an assignment, or if the brakes in her car had suddenly stopped working, there was no dream as consistent as the dream-life she’d built with Midsommar-Night's-Dream-André.

The coffee machine spluttered to life and Nova to it as her queue to get out of bed. She pulled on a shirt as she was walking out her door and mumbled a greeting to André when she reached the kitchen.

He smiled at her over his shoulder, though his attention hardly left the coffee machine until two cups were made and one was placed down onto the table where Nova was sitting.

“Who’d you dream about? Was it Chris Evans again?”

Nova laughed, coffee spluttering out of her mouth. She failed to catch it in her hand, so she was left staring up at André with scalding coffee down her chin and on her shirt.

“I’ve never dreamt about Chris Evans.”

The furrow of André’s brow was instant, and he asked, confused, “You’ve been lying to me?”

“I never told you it was him, you decided that.”

“Why haven’t you told me then?”

Nova shrugged, pulling one knee up to her chest so she could hug it comfortingly, “Because it always seemed so stupid, and there was no way it was ever actually going to happen.”

André, across from her, trailed his eyes over her bare leg, remaining silent for a long moment.

“You always tell everyone else how important it is.”

“I’ve been dreaming about you for half my life and that never seemed real. Like I said, it’s stupid.”

André stared at Nova. Nova stared back. Both were frozen in shock, neither expecting that to be what fell from her mouth. She planned both feet firmly on the kitchen tiles, grabbing her mostly full mug as she stood hastily.

“I’m going to have a shower.”

“Nova.”

“I won’t be long,” she said sweetly.

That was a lie. Nova went about her entire skincare routine, taking her time as she did it, as she thought over and over about how she would get out of her admission without going against the universally known truth that she took Midsommar dreams as gospel.

André was, perhaps unsurprisingly, sitting up against Nova’s headboard. He didn’t say a word as she dressed by shimmying underwear underneath her robe and then taking a sundress from her closet—it felt drastically different to be doing so with André in the room now that he knew how she felt.

“What if I told you I’ve been dreaming about you?” he said when she was standing at the end of the bed.

She scoffed, “You don’t even believe in it.”

“Not just last night, or on Midsommar, Nova,” he already sounded frustrated. “During the year, you’re just there whenever I go to sleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“This isn’t going anywhere if you repeat my questions.”

He was amused at least, by her petulance, and the fiendish smile on her face made Nova crack her own.

“Would you move to America with me?”

“Probably,” she answered without hesitation. “Is that really the only reason you never said anything?”

“We’re friends, Nova, and that’s fine for me. If there’s a chance for me here, though, I want to take it.”

“Yeah? You’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

“I’ve got a lot of time to make up for?” he asked, incredulously, through laughter. “Not sure how this ended up being all my fault.”

“We’ve got time to make up,” she amended, then looked him right in the eye. “Are we going to start now?”

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#hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #andre burakovsky imagine #andre burakovsky fic #fic: avs #one shot #homemade fic

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