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spinster-sisters · 3 years

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Precious. JYN

restaurant worker! au (idk its just gengeral slice of life)

TW: size kink (this is yunho we are talking about) boob stuff (this is me we are talking about, praise, dom! yunho, sub! reader. there is some unwanted inappropriate touching done by an older guy but it doesnt last long.

WC: 5k

The very first thing you noticed about the restaurant you now worked at was how hot the manager interviewing you was. Yeah, you had worked with conventionally attractive people before, but most of them found a way to make themselves unappealing through words or actions. Not Yunho however, a month into working as a waitress you had to simply conclude that there was nothing not to love about him. Of course, he was dashing, that much was obvious, but it was so much more than that, he was unbelievably considerate of others and fiercely protective of his crew, he had a million-dollar smile and could charm his way out of any problem with a customer. Not to mention he was built like a God with both the height and muscles to make your mouth water. Yunho was lucky, and things just seemed to fall into place around him.

Of course, you were aware of this, as he made it impossible to forget.

As time progressed you became more accustomed to your coworkers and better at your job, soon you found a place in the tight-knit group of friends that worked together so work was usually fun.

Except for today. You have been at this job for 6 months now and somehow, with the exception of Yunho, you found yourself on a shift solely staffed by newbies without a clue. And it was a very busy night. You had lost count of the number of times one of your fellow waiters had to call you over to answer a guest question or how many times it was you who had to apologize to them for their server's mistake but it was starting to get to you.

You had a brief moment right in the middle of dinner service where all of your tables were eating happily and you would have a moment to rest. You knew that if you stood there for a moment longer you would be called over by one of the other waiters so you quickly made your way over to the bar where Yunho stood at the POS system. You used his size as an advantage and literally hid behind him. Of course, people could still see you, but at least you weren't standing directly in front of the waiter's station where you would surely be bothered.

You heard the man laugh quietly, and though you couldn't see his face you bet he was hiding a smile.

"Rough night?" He questioned, talking in a way as not to draw attention to you.

"Of course I would get stuck on a shift like this. Not a single person on the crew tonight knows what they're doing! I'm surprised you're even here, I thought the gods of the universe loved you too much" you finished your mini-rant in a mumbling tone, rubbing your eyes before looking out into the dining room just in time to watch the newest crew member, a thin gangly boy named Trevor, spill a glass of water all down the front of an older woman, and you groaned.

Yunho chose to laugh quietly again before speaking up, knowing that now that there was a new disaster your conversation would be cut short once the newbie found you.

"Don't be so hard on them, you were that stupid when you first started," he joked before looking back down at his screen.

"No, I was not!" You cried, "besides why is everyone bothering me? You're the manager shouldn't you be dealing with angry customers? That is above my pay grade." You finish as soon as the young waiter spotted you and began to make his way over.

"Because I told them to," Yunhi replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And why would you do that?" You asked thoroughly annoyed. Coming out from behind the man as Trevor was about halfway across the dining room.

Yunho laughed his brightest laugh. The one that made your stomach swirl with butterflies. He turned finally and looked directly at you, just before the waiter was in earshot he spoke,

"Because you're cute when you're grumpy,"

And that is another thing about Yunho that was impossibly unfair. The man was a relentless flirt. And that wasn't just to you, anytime he made eye contact with anyone it's like he can't hold back the wink.

Finally, your peak time was over. After the incident with the water, the rest of the rush seemed to pass without a problem. There were only about two more hours till you could crawl back into the warmth of your bed and give your feet a real rest.

You had just finish bussing a table when the door chimed again. You could hear the host talking from where you were standing, and her words made your heart sink.

"Well of course Mr. Miller! You want your regular table I'm guessing,"

And then the reply in a groveling tone,

"She better be here tonight, I am starting to think she avoiding me,"

The "she" in question was you. And yes you were. Mr. Miller was a middle-aged sleazy man who came in close to close every Friday night demanding that you serve him. For the past few weeks you have asked Yunho if you could have Fridays off like he did, but due to some call-outs both of you had to come in.

You highly considered running to the back and feigning illness to go home, but it was too late.

"There she is!" The gargley voice called out. Admitting defeated you finally turned to look at him, and with the biggest fakes smile, you could muster you replied.

"Hey, Mr. Miller,"

From the moment he sat down he was already laying it on thick.

"Well, aren't you looking as nice as ever? Some might think you trying something," he winked at you. You had to hold back your vomit. The man was and had been since the moment he first sat at your table 6 months ago that you were his alone, if you spent too much time at another table instead of entering him he would throw a fit. If you didn't laugh at one of his jokes about your body he would throw some line like "come on, give me a smile." If you didn't fully play into the delusion that you were interested in him he would push even harder. And he didn't even tip.

So you played along "Well you know me, I always gotta look my best for you," you said trying to be friendly to appease him, but already knowing damn well that tonight he was going to be insufferable.

You took his drink order and escaped from him as quickly as you could. The other thing you hated about him was how long he stayed. Well after he finished his meal he would stick around for a while watching you. So you weren't even surprised when you felt his eyes on your body as you walked away.

Yunho was observing this interaction from afar completely confused. Friday was one of Yunho's days off every week so he had never seen this before, and he must have looked confused because the host had walked over to him to explain.

"It's weird, right? A child could see how much she hates him but every Friday he comes absolutely convinced that it's her favorite day of the week."

It was getting late, and there were barely any customers left in the dining room when you finally took his empty dinner plate from his table. Not that he was ready to leave yet.

"You know, I've been thinking" he starts before you can walk away, "how does someone as pretty as you end up working at a place like this?" He asks peering at you from over his glass of water.

"Well a girls gotta pay rent," you reply with the fakest giggle ever.

"If I had you, you wouldn't have to work a day in your life," he said, "what do you say, honey, you could quit this place for good," he asked setting his water down and grinning at you dangerously. This scared you. You couldn't help but let your smile falter for a moment, this you couldn't encourage.

"I don't know," was all you could say trying your hardest to make it all seem like a joke. You instinctively step back from the table. In a brief moment, you noticed his hand moving twords your body but it was too late, he had already put his bent fingers on your leg and gripped it.

"Come on, you know I could treat you right."

You physically recoiled but his grip was strong. You were legitimately terrified. He had suggested on a few occasions before that he would wait for you in his car after you close and watched you, he knew which car was yours and could easily follow you. It was clear he didn't take no for an answer.

You didn't know what to do, you simply stood there petrified with the man's grimy hand moving up your leg. Just when it was going to reach the hem of your uniform skirt you were pulled away behind the familiar height of Jung Yunho.

"Sir if you touch any of my employees again I will have you kicked out." Gone was the playful tone that permeated Yunhos normal speech. Instead, he was icy and cold no room for negotiation in his voice. But that didn't stop Mr. Miller from trying.

"Calm down son, me and my favorite girl were just having a polite conversation." He said looking at where you were peeking out from behind Yunho, clearly expecting you to back him up. Instead, you looked anywhere but at him.

"No sir, you were visibly harassing one of my waitresses. it is inappropriate to talk to anyone that way much less if they are working and unable to walk away. If you leave now there will be no further issue." He said, still trying to speak civilly despite his growing agitation. In your desperation to not look at the man you glanced around the room. All eyes, both employe, and patron were staring directly at you. This made it so much worse and chose to look directly at Yunho's side profile.

"Who are you to tell me what to do! I am a paying customer and a loyal patron. I will talk to whom I please!" The older man's voice began to rise clearly not liking the way this conversation was going.

"That girl behind you has been my waitresses for 6 months and if I want to touch her I will!" You heard a fist slam on the table. You jumped and Yunho pulled you farther behind himself. You couldn't help but fist the back of his shirt in terror when you heard the scrape of a chair on the floor. Mr. Miller was now standing, trying his hardest to get in Yunho's face despite how the younger man towered over him.

"If you don't walk away right now ill beat your ass boy!" Miller screamed, getting as close as possible to Yunho. You practically cowered into Yunho's back, still clinging onto the fabric of his black dress shirt like you would physically unravel if you let go.

Yunho stood stoic while the man yelled. Afterward, he took a pause, before speaking.

"Trevor, call the police and tell them we have a customer harassing our staff and threatening violence." He spoke with a defining certainty, no room for an argument from Trevor or Mr. Miller.

Yunho's gentle hand took hold of your upper arm to lead you away from the man. He turned you away from where he stood dumbfounded, and lead you back into the office, and locked the door.

Yunho lead you to one of the two chairs in the cramped room fumbled around for a bit with the water cooler, bringing you a small paper cup to drink from before finally taking a seat himself. The room was small, from the way you were sitting and Yunho's long limb his knees brushed against your own.

You stared and him and he did the same to you, neither saying a word. The man before you looked remarkably calm for the ordeal he just faced but based on the concern in his eyes you looked shaken. You hadn't realized you were crying till the drops landed on the shaky hand still grasping the paper cup for fear of life.

"Please don't cry" was all he said at first. He was silent for a moment but your tears didn't stop. He shifted a bit and the knee touching your own brushed the outermost part of your thigh. He sighed.

"Why didn't you tell anyone how bad he was? Why didn't you tell me?" He spoke calmly. He didn't sound mad in the slightest but his words brought a dry sob from your lips. He looked almost scared for a second before correcting himself in a pleading tone.

"Please don't think I blame you in the slightest. What happened was not your fault," one large hand came to rest almost timidly on your leg.

"I just wish I could have stopped this before it happened."

It has been a few weeks since the incident. News of what had happened had spread around the staff quickly and although Mr. Miller had fled the restaurant before the police arrived, everyone on the crew knew that he was not allowed on the premises and if his car so much as pulled into the parking lot the police assured us that he would be escorted off the property for trespassing.

Yunho had insisted that you take the next 5 days off afterward and even when you returned everyone was walking on eggshells around you, not wanting to do anything to upset you.

The closest circle of team members made it a point to have outings every so often as many of you were quite close outside of work, and although some of them (with your best interest at heart) didn't think you should come out, it was once again Yunho who advocated that spending time alone in your apartment would do you no good. So here you were at approximately 9 o'clock outside a small bar/club getting excited about your first night of relaxation since that day.

Once you found your way into the building it wasn't hard to spot your group. Many of them were already drunk from pre-gaming and the rest of them were well on the way. It brought a fond smile to your face. When you joined the group there were cries of excitement and soon you all fell into the groove of the evening.

You had noticed Yunho the moment you walked in because he seemed to be the only sober one of the bunch. Of course, he knew how to party better than anyone, but tonight he seemed satisfied to just watch the rowdiness unfold.

You weren't drinking cuz of the practical reason that you drove yourself here today. After making your rounds talking with every one of your friends you found yourself gravitating to Yunho as you always seemed to do. He was sitting in a circular booth so it was easy to slide in next to him.

"Not drinking tonight?" You asked.

"No. Someones gotta keep an eye on these crazy people" he replied as jovial as always, instead taking a sip of what appeared to be coke.

"Well I guess I will have to help you then"

After a few hours of talking happily with Yunho while also keeping a close eye on your friends, you found yourself, once again knee to knee with Yunho. Except this time instead of sitting in front of him, you were almost sitting on top of him. You honestly had no clue how this happened, but he didn't seem to mind. Actually, Yunho himself was now sitting with his long arm wrapped across your shoulders pulling you even closer to his side.

"YUNHO" one of your fellow waiters fell into the space beside you, but with their lack of coordination they ended up bumping into you enough that if Yunho hadn't pulled you fully into his lap you would have toppled onto the floor underneath the table. But once the crowd of crewmembers was alerted of your guys' presence they all simultaneously pushed into the booth so there was no room to sit back in your spot.

You were blushing now, thankful that your friends were too drunk to notice how Yunho's arm was wrapped around your waist keeping you securely in place. As the talking resumed Yunho leaned down to whisper into your ear,

"This is all right? I can get them to move if you want," though it was probably unintentional Yunhos breath was sending shivers down your spine, which only got stronger when you finally came to realize how much larger he was then you, effortlessly keeping your body snugly against his chest tight enough to feel each breath he took, the hand wrapped on your waist was large enough to palm your whole thigh if he wanted to. And that thought was exciting.

"No, I'm fine," though you sounded a bit shaky you snuggled yourself even further back onto his lap to show your appreciation. He chuckled lowly in your ear before returning to the conversation. But your mind could not be further from it. You had never realized before how incredibly safe you felt with Yunho or more specifically in his arms and chose to instead focus on the weight of his hand on you, the subtle shifting of his thighs underneath your own as he spoke, and the deep rumble that moved your body with his own every time he laughed.

When it came time for everyone to go home you didn't want to. You didn't like the idea of removing yourself from Yunho's lap at all. But alas, it had to be done.

As the two sober friends, you two were talked with calling cabs and making sure everyone got home safely. Until finally the two of you stood alone on the pavement. You felt the need to say something.

"I don't think I ever thanked you," you said turning to face the man in the cold air. He turned his body twords you as well.

"You don't need to thank me for sitting on my lap, trust me the pleasure was all mine," he joked, and you couldn't help but chuckle along with him.

"You know that's not what I meant," you said in a small voice.

"You don't need to thank me for that either, trust me," his big smile turning smaller but sweeter. This confused you.

"What do you mean?"

Yunho sighed with a smile.

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet," was all he said. But your confused face brought more words out of him. He took a step closer to you leaning down and speaking in a quiet voice he said,

"You, have always been very precious to me, and that day was no different. I would go to much greater lengths to keep you safe if I had to,"

His words, although spoken in the softest tone struck you straight through the heart. You had always dreamed of being with Yunho but you had never imagined he felt the same way. He took another step, leaving almost no room between you.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, bringing a hand up to the back of your head. Words weren't forming so you chose to nod instead.

It only took a beat longer for him to lean down and press his plush lips into your own. Yunho wasn't one to beat around the bush and put all of his passion into the kiss, leading your lips with his own guiding your mouth to respond exactly as he wished.

You put your hands on his firm chest as his other arm circled your waist bringing you in even closer. Your mouths were so intertwined neither of you dared to break the kiss for quite a while, simply enjoy the feeling, but soon the need for oxygen won out. You pulled apart gasping, but still holding each other close.

You're not quite sure how exactly you ended up back at your apartment but that was unimportant, what mattered was keeping your mouth on Yunho's. You two had barely gotten through the door before your back was pressed against it in a quick motion.

Along with his considerable height, Yunho also had considerable strength, so when leaning down for you became uncomfortable he chose to instead wrap your legs around his waist and lift you.

In this new position, you were at the perfect height to move his lips to your neck. He found the perfect spot on it before sucking a dark purple mark into the skin, nibbling it a bit before licking it soothingly. The wet feeling of his tongue pulled a new sound from your lips,

"Yunho!" You whined into his ear.

He seemed overjoyed at this reaction and desperate to recreate it he rolled his hips into yours. You could feel his hard length pressing oh so perfectly into your clothed slit you desperate cry could probably be heard three doors down. The man was big.

"You sound so cute" Yunho giggled into your jaw, before pressing a sweet kiss into the skin.

One of his large hands slipped below the hem of your shirt and moved up to the cup of your bra. His long fingers groped your plush breast, holding the whole thing in his hand. The warmth of his fingers and the pleasant squeeze had you whining once again.

"Your so sensitive baby," he remarked, giving your breast another squeeze. In an attempt to keep your noises contained you reached out and pulled his head to meet your lips again. This kiss was much more desperate than the others both of your lips moving so fast it was hard to keep up, your teeth clacking together in the process. Yunho rolled his hips into yours again and you squealed into his lips.

Keeping you as firmly planted on the kiss as possible Yunho's hand fell from your chest back to your hips before pulling you completely off the wall and your arms instinctively clung to his broad shoulders.

Your apartment was only one bedroom so Yunho had bo problem blindly navigating the way to your bedroom. As soon as the door was open you were practically flung backward onto your bed. In an instant Yunho found his way onto your bed, once his back was pressed into the headboard Yunho took hold of your body and manhandled you onto his lap facing him, you were once again faced with just how big Yunho was. Both of his arms wrapped around your body pulling you close and positioning your heat directly over his dick, where an impressive tent in his jeans rubbed directly into you. The loose skirt you were wearing did nothing to cover your panties. You kneed into him finally taking the initiative to grind down repeatedly onto him.

"Awe, baby you look so cute like this, all flustered and needy. Look you're making a mess on me." You hadn't noticed how wet you were until this point but he was right, you were completely soaked through the thin material of your underwear, and with each roll of your hips, you were dampening his jeans.

"Yunho," you begged "please touch me,"

"But you look so good like this. I could watch this all day. Sitting pretty on my lap, just waiting for me to fuck you."

"Please?" You cried still desperately chasing the friction his jeans were giving your clit. He flashed his million-dollar smile before giving in, slipping one veiny hand into your panties cupping your whole heats in his hand for a moment, wetting his fingers before sliding two long digits into you. You showed your appreciation in a moan and clung to his broad shoulders again.

"Please Yunho! I want more. Please fuck me." You begged.

"Not yet, baby, I gotta open you up first. Don't want to hurt you do I." As he spoke he speaks the pace of his fingers scissoring them open inside of you stretching you wider. You bucked into his hand.

"My little baby is fucking herself into my hand. How cute," your exhaled loudly then dropped your head onto his shoulder tugging at his shirt begging him to remove it. Yunho chose to first use his free hand to slide your own top of your body before taking hold of your neck and pulling your upper body away from his. With your help eventually, his shirt was pulled from him leaving your view of his beautiful chest and bulging muscles open to admire.

You almost forgot about the hand moving inside of you while you ran your own up and down the Yunho's chest, trying to feel every bump and ridge there was. Your eyes were glazing over in wonder, but you were soon brought back to reality when another finger pushed inside of you, joining the others in your pulsing pussy. Your head rolled back in a moan.

"Like what you see baby? Because I am really enjoying this view." You were sitting so pretty on his lap your skirt had been pushed up and your soaked lacy panties matched your bra perfectly. In all the movement your chest was starting to spill out of your bra.

"Baby you look so fucked out and small right now and I haven't even done anything yet, are you sure you need me to fuck you?" He asked teasingly.

"Yunho, please," your nails began dragging down his golden skin leaving a trail of red lines, "please, please fuck me." Spewed past your lips. A wicked smile graced his lips.

"You want me to fuck you into the mattress?" He asked.

"Yes! Please!" This was almost embarrassing but if anything your flushed tone only made him happier.

"No, I don't think I will." He said pulling his finger out of you.

You whined.

Yunho undid his belt pushing his pants down just enough to pull his expressive length out of his boxers. You watched with bated breath as he stroked himself a few times before meeting your eyes.

"How about you ride me instead?"

You nodded eagerly almost lunging forward. Yunho helped support your body as you hovered over him, before lining you up and pulling your body down onto him. The stretch was painful at first, you could feel him deeper than anyone else had ever reached but you clenched down on him appreciatively. You took a moment to gather yourself, half expecting him to thrust into you, but he stayed perfectly still. You meet his eyes with your own going wide and he giggled.

"I'm not moving baby if you want to get fucked you have to do it yourself." As he spoke he pulled both hands off you, resting them on his thighs.

You sat breathless for a second longer, unable to form a coherent thought, but the sudden twitch of his dick inside you brought you back to the task at hand. Slowly but surely you began moving, lifting yourself till only his tip was inside you before falling back down. You both groaned satisfied but it only lasted a second before you repeated the action, and then again, and again, slowly building speed each time and realizing quite moans every time he filled you up completely.

You had now set a fast pace, you were unsure how long you could keep it but the growing pleasure filling your abdomen kept you moving. Yunho's eyes were trained on you, switching from your blessed out face, to your bouncing tits, to where his long dick was disappeared into your cunt each time it reappeared coated in your juries.

"Baby, if only you could see yourself right now," he spoke over the sounds of skin slapping and pretty moans, "honestly you look good enough to eat sweetheart"

His words of praise-filled your ears and encouraged you to move faster, desperately clenching on his dick feeling it twitch return along with his deep rumbling groan. Your hands were still firmly planted on his chest and you used this grip for support trying once again to increase your pace. Your thighs were beginning to burn but it felt too good to stop, not when you were this close.

"Yunho, please help me," you whined, your legs faltering in their attempt to keep moving.

"Oh? But you're doing so well baby," he said with an adoring smile watching your face.

"Please Yunho?" you asked running your palms down the ridges of his chest once again. Your building pleasure had started to plateau as you couldn't keep up the pace, your thighs starting to burn even harder. You were so close but you couldn't put yourself over the edge and if growing moans from the man in front of you were anything to go by then he was right there with you.

He seemed to consider this for a moment before chuckling.

"I guess my baby is just not strong enough to make herself cum. I suppose I could help with that."

You only had time to breathe a sigh of relief before you were thrown back onto the covers. Yunho's large frame loomed over you with a sinister smirk. You barely registered the anticipation in your body before he slammed his entire length back into you. Setting a brutal pace. You cried out instantly and your voice rang through the walls of the apartment like a symphony.

Each time Yunho's hips connected with your own he hit that perfect spot inside of you bringing more noises from you. One of his hands came down onto the mattress beside your head and the other took hold of your thigh using it to maneuver you into the exact position he wanted.

Now Yunho was grunting along with you trying hurtling both of your twords your orgasms at an incredible pace. Just as you were about to be thrown over the edge Yunho connected your lips again swallowing your moans. It only took one more perfectly timed thrust before you came toppling over the edge. Although your lips were still connected, it didn't do much to help the lewd sounds spilling out of you. The pleasure came from your core in waves, arching your back and making your legs twitch violently.

Not long after you came down from the high your body began pulling away from Yunho's thrust but he held you in place.

"Just a little longer baby, I promise."

And just when the buzzing pain of overstimulation subsided, Yunho filled pulled out of you and spilled his sticky cum across your body. He stood above you for a moment, you both were panting but you were clearly the more worn out of the two.

Yunho's eyes moved across your whole body once before meeting your own eyes.

"Your precious"

#yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez au #yunho scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions

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violetwolfraven · 3 years

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“You know they’re gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.”

*deep breath* Here we go. I can do this.

It’s been a long time (like over a month) since I’ve put anything out, but... I’m trying. Got struck with a small bolt of inspiration and I’m gonna try to start creating again. As of now I am gonna say that requests are still closed, but I’m feeling a bit better and I think this fic looks okay, so don’t hesitate to comment with your thoughts!

Tw: implied internalized homophobia, rejection, mentioned child neglect.

...

Flynn knows that Carrie likes girls.

She’s always known. It’s obvious. It’s been obvious. Since even before the first time Ray showed the girls (Triple Threat. Triple Threat was going to be their band name after they were introduced to Carrie in 2nd grade, key words going to be—) Star Wars and while Julie was saying how cool Princess Leia shooting a gun was, all Carrie could talk about was how pretty she was.

Carrie’s favorite flowers are violets. Her favorite Disney fairy is Vidia. Her favorite Avenger is Thor. It’s obvious. It always has been.

Flynn has known Carrie likes girls... well, the entire time they’ve known Carrie. Carrie likes girls. It’s just the way things are. Julie has a seemingly permanent crush on Nick but occasionally gets another one on someone else (she has excellent, though unrealistic, taste) Ray and Rose don’t question it when Flynn shows up at their house unexpectedly, and Carrie likes girls.

And Flynn likes Carrie, not that she feels like telling her that.

Carrie, who shines like a neon pink supernova when she sings, who attacks every move when she dances, who is ambitious and ruthless and... so insecure.

She needs constant validation. She needs reassurance that people can care about her for more than just her dad’s wealth and fame. She needs to know she isn’t going to be left behind again.

She seems to like being needed, when Flynn’s mom and dad finally get divorced, perfectly happy to wake up at odd hours to marathon the entire Pirates of the Caribbean franchise because it’s not like Flynn’s dad will notice if they leave the house in the middle of the night and take an Uber to a mansion above the beach because she needs to feel seen right now.

And it’s not that they blame her for any of it. She doesn’t. It’s just... weird, knowing that Carrie needs those nights, needs to feel needed, as much as Flynn needs to feel noticed.

It would be simpler to go to Julie’s house, but Carrie knows how it feels to have the ground under your feet shaken and your family break apart. Julie can’t possibly understand that yet, so Flynn goes to Carrie.

And Carrie takes to popping in The Curse of the Black Pearl before she can even ask her to. She learns to braid natural hair and will sit for hours doing Flynn’s. She’ll talk absentmindedly about the latest shenanigans her dance class has been up to until they feel up to talking about whatever’s bothering them.

They talk about Flynn’s mixed feelings about her mom’s new girlfriend and their buttload of homework and her dad paying more attention to his car than to them and somewhere in there, Flynn realizes that isn’t just a crush. She’s had those before. This—what they’re feeling now—is love. Or... it has to be.

It has to be love because what else could possibly be this strong?

She really shouldn’t have forgotten that as their dad likes to joke about, love is bullshit.

And Flynn really shouldn’t have taken Julie’s advice about making a move on the girl they have a crush on (she didn’t even tell Julie who it was, what were they thinking?).

Because Flynn pours her heart out, says they’ve been in love with her since they were 7 (and they’re 13 now so literally almost half her life), and Carrie just stares at her for a full 10 seconds, then runs—no—sprints away.

Less than 48 hours later it’s all over her Instagram that she and Nick are going out on a date, and Flynn wants to scream.

They both keep it together for Julie, pretend they’re still friends, because Rose just got diagnosed with cancer and Julie needs them to be normal, so they are.

But the first and last time Flynn tries going over to Carrie’s house again after the fiasco of telling her how they feel, it’s a big argument that narrowly avoids waking Trevor that ends in an unholy, heartbroken mess of you don’t even like him, you don’t even like boys so why and I don’t know what you’re talking about and yeah, right, call me when you’re ready to stop pretending to be something you’re not.

Then Flynn leaves, goes to the Molinas’ (Ray makes her hot chocolate, he’s such a good dad), and pretends it doesn’t hurt until it doesn’t anymore. Until she’s angry instead of heartbroken and they’re not just angry for herself. They’re angry that things are weird enough now that Julie can tell something’s up. Angry that Nick’s inevitably going to get his heart stepped on (because he is a sweetheart, if an oblivious one). Angry that Carrie’s gone and formed her own band without what is now going to be just Double Trouble and her performances are good.

Angry that Carrie thinks liking girls would... what? Make people love her less? Make her dad love her less? Hurt her career bad enough to end it?

And she’s definitely angry that Carrie’s pushing Julie so hard back towards music, after Rose dies.

She means well, thinking what she did to cope with her mom abandoning her will work for Julie, but she’s being short-sighted about it.

Rose’s death is hitting all of them hard in different ways (Rose was almost as good as another mom to Flynn), only Carrie can’t seem to see that. She can’t seem to see that when Julie’s hurting, she shuts down completely. Stops creating music because it’s what she needs to do to cope.

And Carrie... does not react well when Flynn tries to tell her that. That conversation ends in a big, explosive fight in the Molinas’ garage with Julie caught in the middle that doesn’t stop until Ray comes out and makes them stop by telling Carrie he’s driving her home.

Flynn shoves every last bit of feelings they might have had for Carrie down and puts all her energy into making sure Julie will be okay.

They don’t miss the feeling of Carrie’s hands in her hair, hearing her voice sarcastically remarking on how Jack Sparrow is lucky to be alive, and talking about feelings with someone who clearly needs that talk as badly as they do.

It’s almost the same, once Julie feels okay enough to handle listening to other people’s problems, but...

“I know you love her, Flynn,” Julie tells them one day, months after the big fight.

To which Flynn can only respond, “That’s not true.”

Because it’s not. Not after everything Carrie said. Because if there’s still some feelings left over for that beautiful neon pink supernova demon... no there isn’t. She turned them into anger, making snappy comments about how Carrie’s a traitor, a demon, whatever.

About how she’s gonna end up with Nick and live unhappily ever after.

That not happening would require either Nick to get his sweet himbo head out of the clouds (probably not going to happen), or Carrie to get past the denial phase of accepting her sexuality.

Ha. Fucking likely that is.

Because Carrie likes girls. Flynn’s always known she does.

But she’s also insecure and aggressive and obsessed with breaking out of her dad’s shadow, and any possible threat to that dream can’t stand.

Even if accepting herself might actually make both of them her happy. Fill in some of the holes in both of their lives her self-esteem.

Carrie’s too damn stubborn to even consider it, and Flynn doesn’t miss her. They don’t. She’s not stupid enough to hold on to something that will never happen and they have moved on. Can even joke about it now.

“You know they’re gonna get married and have a bunch of unholy babies.”

...

Part 2 here cause I’m physically incapable of not writing at least the possibility for a happy ending!

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #julie and the himbos #netflixwewantjatp2 #flarrie #flynn jatp #carrie wilson #julie molina #nick danforth evans #ray molina #demigirl!flynn #angst #flarrie angst #violet’s writing

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inkbloodpaperandbone · 4 years

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I really don't want Bobby/Trevor Wilson to be a villian is season 2

I want him to apologize for stealing those songs yes and for Luke, Reggie and Alex to their recognition for their work of course.

Personally I see Bobby/Trevor's theft as something that happened a couple of years after the others died. Bobby/Trevor is struggling to get anywhere with his career, struggling with finding a new band to fit into or working solo so maybe he goes and looks over the guys things reminisencing about the past, maybe at a very small gig at a bar or whilst busking Bobby/Trevor uses one of Luke's songs for old times sake and it blows up (obviously late 90s style).

Maybe at first using the songs where for keeping their memory alive but as success and fame and fortune takes over like hundreds of other artists and musicians before him Bobby/Trevor loses sight of that. He becomes the caricature of the middle aged rockstar we see in season 1.

Now with Luke, Reggie and Alex back the guilt of using (stealing) the songs finally comes back and now Bobby) Trevor has to confront that.

I really hope it's not revealled that 17 year old Bobby/Trevor had some how been involved with the others deaths - honestly it would be a twist that to me would ruin the effectiveness of the emotional impact of how pointless three young people died over something so small at the very cusp of beginning of the rest of their lives - and Bobby /Trevor is 17!, a child! who just list his best friends give him a break geez (older! Bobby/Trevor you can take the Mick out of I'll grant you that) but really how could he have organised the murder of his friends when it's so clearly set up as a (comedic) series of really poor, decision making.

Anyway I totally am on board with the Bobby/Trevor redemption/defence squad, I really want to see more of young Bobby/Trevor cuz Taylor Kare is really cool and I want him back for season 2 and yes I will continue to refer to him as Bobby/Trevor because I'm stupid like that 😘

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp netflix #netflix jatp #Bobby/Trevor Wilson #so i went off here huh #lol #okay feel free to ignore me #or you can not and reblog and add on to your heart's content

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Gimme Love, 3/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia

2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the

back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed

issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;

differing social circles (in my case, lack of),

her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,

her friends,

and, of course, my massive crush on her.

So, why was Blair the second reason as to why I dragged myself to school? Her smile. That was enough. As much as I tried to avoid her, the world decided to do a big "fuck you" on me and sometimes put us into situations together. And every time, I'd be internally freaking out. The worst was when we were both 16. It was that time of the year when the school would invite someone to subject us to the most humiliating moment of our lives. How the fuck were you supposed to put a condom on a banana without bursting out laughing? How the fuck were you supposed to sit there and keep a straight face when the educator used words like 'flaps'? We filed into the class, Jujubee and me taking seats at the back of the room. We knew this was going to be hilarious, so best to avoid the attention of the teacher. "Juju, I know you are dying to make jokes during this, but I'm begging you. Please don't." I spoke quietly to her as other students filed in. "But you know I'm going to, right?" Jujubee smirked, putting her bag on the ground. "No. We wanna keep a low profile. If we laugh, we draw attention, and then we risk being singled out. You know? We'll be at the front of the class demonstrating whatever this bitch asks us." Obviously, I was referring to putting condoms on bananas and the like. Juju, however, raised a brow, "I wouldn't mind that, babe. Don't worry. We won't need to take our clothes off." I stared at her for a few seconds, unable to think of how to respond to that. Jujubee winked, and I forced myself to look away. "That's not what I meant." Blair strolled in with Denali and Rosé, already I could feel my stomach knotting. They went to sit together somewhere in the middle. "Ugh, nope. I don't think so, ladies." Ah, Miss Jaida Hall, if only I could have warned you not to say what you were about to say. Somehow Blair and the two others knew she was speaking to them. She continued, "This is an important class, and I'm not gonna have you all laughing and snickering during it." She had a point. The three girls usually whispered to each other in class, giggling about all sorts of shit. It was never anything malicious about the lesson or teachers, just inside jokes with each other, pretty harmless stuff. But it pissed the teachers off so much. "You can't be serious, right?" Denali replied, clearly scandalised. "Very serious, actually." Ms Hall nodded, "Denali, sit with Brian. Rosé, with Gigi. Blair, with Brianna." I grabbed Jujubee by the wrist, the pressure making her squeak. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. Blair was not rolling her eyes as she made her way to the back towards me. This was not fucking happening. As instructed, Jujubee stood up and let Blair sit down, moving to sit somewhere else. I was alone with the one person I tried my hardest to avoid. She slouched down in her chair, arms folded like she was already over it. I wanted so badly to ask if she was OK. But I couldn't bring myself to. And as the lights turned off and the sex-ed lady pressed play on the video player, I wished I had said something. As the way too enthusiastic narrator explained step by step the act of sexual intercourse, I tried hiding the blush on my face with my hair. I tried so hard to focus on what I was being taught. The truth was, I was still a virgin, as were many of the others in the room, I'm sure. But unlike them, I had no idea how sex worked. It wasn't something I ever gave time to think about. I felt a tapping on my hand. My body tensed as I glanced to the side. Blair was looking at the screen, then at me, then her fingers brushed against my hand. I stared back, unsure of what was happening but also knowing full well what she was doing. She leaned closer and pressed her lips on mine. … OK, that's not what happened. Life wasn't a movie. This was the beginning of the fantasies. Was I ashamed because I was thinking about Blair like that? Or was I ashamed that I enjoyed thinking of Blair like that? "This is ridiculous," Blair whispered. Was I supposed to say something back? "What do you mean?" I

whispered back. "Do they actually think we're that dumb? We all know how sex works. We don't need this stupid class." Blair rolled her eyes. I almost told her that I belonged to the small percentage that didn't know. But I stopped myself. I couldn't bear her knowing that information. Instead, I went with the awkward, "haha. Yeaaahhhh…" For the rest of the film, we sat in silence. Still trying to focus on the screen. Not the absolute stunner sitting next to me. And as if by magic, the video ended. I wanted to say I was relieved, but I couldn't lie; what I learned from the film left me nauseous. He puts his hoo-ha in her what, now?? "Well, that was really cool and hip, right?" The educator enthused. I cringed internally. No woman wearing a crucifix necklace and ankle-length skirt has the right to use words like 'cool' and 'hip'. "I know it's probably all so confusing. So that's why I'm here to answer any of your questions, dudes and dudettes." Already, one of the boys put a hand up. "Go ahead, homie." "What about the other hole?" He said with a straight face before his friends started laughing. He laughed back as he fired one of them. "You know. The back door?" Ms Hall shot him the 'look'. He was toast. The sex educator fixed her hair quite uncomfortable, "Well, there's a reason that is an out hole, young man. I warn all of you, do not go down that road. You will get aids and die. Now, does anybody else have a question?" The educator rambled, fixing her hair awkwardly. I heard the rustling of clothes beside me, and glancing around, Blair had her hand straight up in the air. "Yes, sweetheart?" Sex Ed lady pointed to her. "OK, so this is interesting and all, but I was just wondering, what about non-heterosexual sex?" Her brows knit for a moment. I looked around at her now. The breath caught in my throat. "I'm sorry?" Sex Ed lady asked. "You know. Man on man. Girl on girl. What about all of that?" Blair raised a brow. "I mean, you gotta know there's more than just heterosexual people out there. Maybe some even in this room right now." "Blair." Ms Hall began. "Because, if you disagree, then that's ridiculous. Oh, and if you think aids is some kind of death sentence, then you seriously need to educate yourself." Sex ed lady looked appalled, her Christian beliefs quite clearly threatened. "That's it. Get out." Ms Hall stood up. Blair huffed, pushing her seat back, lifted her bag and left the room, Ms Hall following behind. "OK. So, any other questions? Reasonable questions only, please." Jujubee was looking over her shoulder at me now, sharing the same expression I did. Thank God for lunch next period. Jujubee and I were hiding at the back of the school, in an alley between the building itself and the old workshops. The perfect hiding place for a smoke and to freak the fuck out about specific events. "Juju, she knows. She knows I'm a lesbian. She knows I like her." I paced. "I'm moving. That's it." I stopped. "But why would she speak up for me of all people? It doesn't make sense." My eyes widened. "Unless she's also a lesbian. I mean, that makes sense, right?" Jujubee had been sitting on the wall, patiently listening to my manic ramblings. The first few minutes, she was just as astounded. But the more I theorised, rambling on and on, she was over it. "I highly doubt that considering the boyfriend." "Then she must know. Why else would she say it? I highly doubt there are other gays in that class. Speaking of which, I had no idea lesbians could have sex like; how does that work. I'm gonna look into that somehow. But getting back to the point, if she did know, why would she speak out for me of all people?" My ramblings were non-stop. I tried my best to avoid Blair for the rest of the day, not that I could, considering we were both in the same last period. Blair's outburst was the talk of the school. I wasn't sure if it was a positive response or not. The only thing I did know was Trevor was pissed. "Brie, look." Jujubee tapped me. I turned from my locker and looked where everyone else seemed to be

looking. Just down the corridor, Trevor was standing over Blair, their conversation clearly heated. People were shamelessly moving closer, Jujubee following in their path. "Juju, don't," I whispered. But she didn't listen. I went after her as if it would stop her. "Trevor, this isn't that big of a deal," Blair said. "Not a big deal? Blair, do you know what the guys are saying? They think you're gonna dump me for a girl. Do you know how humiliating that is?" Trevor held a hand to his chest "And what if I did?" Blair challenged. The few people standing around cooed with excitement. "Oh, please. Don't get all cocky now that you have an audience." Trevor pointed. But Blair took a step closer to him. "What, 'cause you know you're the one who looks like an idiot? Maybe if you weren't so insecure, you'd know I would never do that to you." "Don't call me an idiot." Trevor lowered his tone, choosing purposely to ignore her reassurance. "Fine. But don't criticise me for a valid question I asked in a class you weren't even a part of. It's none of your business, no one's business for that matter." Blair bit back. "I can do what I want, Blair." "OK. Whatever." Blair brushed past him. Trevor quickly spun around, grabbing her arm. "No, we're not done having this conversation." My stomach twisted. "Let go of my arm, Trevor." Blair tugged, her voice cracking. Trevor did as was told now that the air was thick with tension, "We are not done talking," he stressed. Blair took a step back, "Yeah, we are, actually," and she turned to walk away. "If you walk away right now, we're finished." Trevor threatened. It was as if time was at a standstill, waiting for her reaction. But at the same time, it felt as though time was counting down. Like we were in a competition show. The contestant has to decide before time runs out, while the audience yells, 'DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!' No one was shouting, but you could feel everyone's excitement. Blair's lip curled upwards. "OK. Fine by me." And, finally, she walked off. The people were cooing with excitement again. "Shut up!" Trevor shouted. I grabbed Jujubee by the shoulder and ushered her back. Trevor kicked his locker, the thud echoing through the halls. That was the last straw. Knowing Trevor, he'd take his anger out on us. It was time to flee the scene. It was all Jujubee wanted to talk about for the rest of the day. Now I knew how she felt during my smoke break. But I couldn't blame her. The scene played in my head over and over again, leading to so many questions. Was there more to this breakup? Did he grab Blair like that all the time? What would happen now? Would she find a new guy? A girl, maybe? I came to the conclusion that Blair and Trevor's breakup was neither good nor bad. Bad because, as I said before, now he had more pent up anger from the humiliation of being so publicly dumped. Therefore, Jujubee and I would most likely be subject to more harassment. Good, because maybe Blair did like girls. Maybe there was still some little chance for us to be together. But if we were going to be together, there was one issue; I still had no fucking idea how lesbian sex worked. Cut to later that night, I'm in my room, sitting in front of my computer. I needed to distract myself from my thoughts of the breakup. While the scratchy dial-up tones emitted the machine, I psyched myself up. Even though I knew sex was normal to learn about at that age, it was still daunting. With shaky hands, I searched 'lesbian sex'. And fuck was it a mistake. What I wanted was educational articles, guides, etc. And what I got was porn. I watched all but a few minutes, all the painfully bad acting scenes that took place before the main event. Upon hearing the first moan, I clicked out as fast as I could. Looking behind me, Piggie was just playing with a stuffed animal on my bed. "You saw that, right?" He looked at me with perked ears. I still felt judged, so I opened my bedroom door and let him out. I needed to be exact. 'How do lesbians have sex?' And Brianna Caldwell was never the

same. My mind was opened that night. This was no mistake. This was a surprise. I couldn't look away from the computer screen, no matter how slow the Internet connection was. All of this information was all too much but not enough at the same time. And it made me feel less nauseated than I felt after watching that stupid video in class. And I built up the courage to go back to that porn site. And I watched every damn second. Then I watched another one. And another. And just one more 'cause why the fuck not? My bedroom door opened. "Brianna, I'm ordering - -" "Get out," I shouted, closing the site down like my life depended on it. But she stood there for a few seconds, eyes wide and hand still on the door frame. "Honey, are you - -" "Mom, oh my god. Can you just - -" I couldn't even form a proper sentence. She gave an apologetic look and closed the door. But she remained on the other side. "I just wanted you to know that I'm ordering pizza for Grandpa and me. Do you want some?" My forehead was in my hand now. "Yes." "What kind?" "Just…" I wanted to shout, "Pepperoni." And with that, she left. But that wasn't the end of it. When the food arrived, I waited a few minutes before going downstairs to grab a few slices. Grandpa was in the living room watching an old rerun of The A-Team. But she was there, in the kitchen, as if she was waiting for me. "Honey, look. I know you're getting to that age where you're curious about certain things and - -" "Mom, no. Please, don't do this." I whined. "I know. I know. I just wanted to let you know that this is natural, and…" she continued to deliver the same talk we all got in class. My eyes were wide, face red with humiliation. -_-_-_- 2020 I picked up a slice of pepperoni pizza, instantly reminded of the traumatic event. OK, maybe that was too strong of a word to use. But of course, you are going to dread the thought of that time your parent talked to you about sex. I walked into the living room, pizza slice in hand, trying not to dwell on the memory. "So, Brianna. Any update on the love life?" Tamisha asked. I loved that bitch; being one of Mom's closest friends, she was present for most of my life. But she always had a tendency to ask questions I wasn't up for answering. I took a bite from my pizza and answered with a full mouth, "dry." "Girl, you're almost 40." She continued. I was ready to challenge her because I was actually just 33 when Mom took her turn to speak. "Yeah, get yourself a man and make me a Grandma already." She wasn't serious. She knew I hated these types of talks, but that didn't stop her from encouraging the others. The funny thing about the time she caught me watching porn, she never clocked it was girl on girl. Of all the years I've been on this planet, I hadn't given her a clue that I was a lesbian. Would I ever tell her? I didn't see the point. From previous failed relationships and being too busy with my job, I wouldn't end up with someone anyway. But of course, I'd make an exception for a certain someone. Monét poured the first round of shots. I already knew I'd hate myself the next day. I wasn't drunk already. Just sort of buzzed. But that changed within an hour. I was hammered. Mom, Monét and all her friends were singing all the old songs in the living room. I was out in the kitchen, trying to drink 8 glasses of water. I only managed 3. Piggie ran in and put his paws up on my knee. "There he is. My baby. My fucking son." I slid down to the ground and let him sit in my lap. "How is your night going?" Just great, Brianna! Anyway, how about that Blair girl, huh? Piggie's non-existent voice said. "Oh yeah," my eyes narrowed. I unlocked my phone and opened up Facebook. And I bravely searched up her name. I say bravely because it does take some balls to go and stalk your crushes social media accounts. All it took to fuck everything up was the slip of a finger, and before you know it, you've liked a post or sent a friend request. "Let's do some digging, Piggie." I cuddled him. Immediately, she was the top result, with Jujubee

being the only mutual friend. "Yeah, girl. Infiltration." I commented as I clicked into her profile. And then her profile picture. "Holy shit." She hadn't aged. She still looked as young and radiant as she did back in high school. "What do you think, Piggie?" I showed him the screen. He glanced at it before tucking his head under his arms. The enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes. I looked at her info. 'Single'. Promising. Scrolling down to her timeline, I noticed she didn't post a lot. Fair enough. Facebook was becoming a dead site in recent years. There were just your average Facebook posts, sharing giveaway posts, a post from an old lady saying, 'Blair, this is Granny. Could you go to Walmart and get me some applesauce? Love granny xx', a shared post from a guy called George Miller. And my finger stopped scrolling upon seeing Blair holding a baby. "Oh God, we've encountered our first obstacle, Piggie," I whined. I clicked into the comments. That George Miller guy commented, 'congrats, Blair!' She replied, 'thank you, but she's my cousin's lol'. "Thank you, Jesus." I put my phone down for a moment to put my hand up to the good lord. I scrolled some more, seeing many inspirational quotes, a link to Adore You by Harry Styles. And a picture of her. With that George Miller guy. With his arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her temple. I could feel my heart sink the more I studied it. Yeah, I knew Blair and I were never meant to be anyway. But it was still upsetting. Relax. They could be friends. Yeah, that's right. Friends hold each other and act all affectionate, right?? I cuddle with Jujubee sometimes. That doesn't mean anything. Right? I needed evidence, just anything, to make it not true. I scrolled some more. There was a video, she was sitting on her sofa, with a girl playing the guitar sitting on the other end. "I've been running races on empty, Pour it up 'cause my cup so empty. Gotta make time for the real me. I've been running, I've been running on empty." And my nerves were settled again. I had only heard Blair sing a few times. She and her friends would pretend they were famous singers in early elementary years, and she'd always be the best. Then another time was in high school, at the winter talent show. I specifically remember it being A moment like this by Kelly Clarkson. It was unreal. 'Jujubee 💋💅🏽 is typing…' I clicked into Snapchat before she even had a chance to type the whole message. "Do you remember Jujubee?" I asked Piggie. Again, he was silent. 'I hope you're having fun, babe ❤ lv u'. "Thanks," was all I could manage to type. A shadow cast over me. I looked up to see Monét join me on the ground. "Hey, girl." She greeted me. "Hi, Aunt Monét." I smiled. Piggie hopped off my lap and onto hers. "Aunt Monét? Honey, you haven't called me that since middle school." She smiled. I returned the smile, only mine probably looking goofy. "I'm just wasted." "I noticed. No more shots for you anyway." She noted, taking a drink from her own bottle. "Anyway, how's the project?" "We got fucking Ed Sheeran involved." I then cursed myself internally for bringing it up. "I heard. Your Mom was telling me. Ugh, girl, why him? Why not someone like…" she paused to think, "like Beyonce. Or Lady Gaga." "OK, man-hater." I quipped, reaching over to pet Piggie. "Not true. Not all men are bad." Monét pointed out. "Speaking of which, when are you getting yourself one?" I could have given her the usual 'I don't have time for men's talk. But the alcohol said no. "Monét, I like girls." And I felt no shame in saying it. A moment of silence fell between us before she asked, "for real?" "Yeah." I nodded. "Does anyone else know?" "Yeah. Juju. And Piggie probably." I replied, leaving one more name out for the sole purpose I didn't want to get into that. "And Mom?" "Nope." She nodded. "I guess this is one of these aunty-niece confidentiality things?" "Uh-huh." I smiled. Bless Aunt Monét. "Well, no matter who you live, we still love you." She laughed for a moment before taking another drink. I knew

she was right. Maybe coming out to Mom wasn't such a bad idea. "You know what, Brianna?" She paused, "Grandpa would be so proud of you, right?" My smile slowly began to drop. Fuck, the touchy subject. "Oh, I...thanks." I thought the change in my mood was hard to miss, but Monét clearly had. "You and I ain't ever talked about him since...you know." "OK," I said quietly, feeling like my chest was a fist, beginning to clench tighter and tighter. "And sometimes, it's just good to look back on - -" "I gotta go." I quickly stood up, feeling the dark fog already come over me. I rushed from the room, my aunty calling my name and apologising. I avoided going into the living room, rushing up the stairs and racing for the bathroom. As soon as the door was locked, I let myself crumble, my face hidden beneath shaking hands, a cry clogged in my throat just begging to belt out. Mom would definitely hear it. I wasn't going to ruin her day. Absolutely not. Tags: rpdr fanfiction // s10 // as5 // miz cracker // jujubee // blair st clair // blair x cracker // denali foxx // rose // fluff // coming of age // hurt/comfort // lesbian au // highschool au // grinder // tw grief // tw homophobia [Cover image here] AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia [read more] 2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me

closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as

friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;

differing social circles (in my case, lack of),

her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,

her friends,

and, of course, my massive crush on her.

#rpdr fanfiction #s10 #as5 #miz cracker #jujubee #blair st clair #blair x cracker #denali foxx #rosé #fluff #coming of age #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #high school au #angst #gimme love #grinder #tw grief #tw homophobia

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theemptyquarto · 4 years

Text

Abandoned WIPs

for @goodintentionswipfest

“Oh my God, that was, like, the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

That was the first thing she ever said to him.

Victor Trevor, the bastard, had dragged him out of the lab, then made him drive a car full of giggling idiots for three hours to Swanage, then had abandoned him to get drunk with additional idiots from Birmingham who had driven even further. And now one of the idiots from Birmingham, the American girl with too much hair, was criticizing his stone skimming abilities.

“I’d like to see you do any better,” he said, shortly.

The girl raised her eyebrows and made a face at him, then went to look for a stone of her own.

“The water is too turbulent here,” he said.

The girl kept looking, until she found a smooth white stone, really too large for the purpose, being almost the size of her palm.

“It calls for a calmer day than this,” he said.

Then the girl drew back her arm and lobbed the stone, which skimmed perfectly, touching the water five times before sinking into the water of the bay. Because of course it did.

“If you want to skip rocks in this kind of water you need to pick a bigger one and kind of… loft it over the breakwater. Just like that,” she said, waving vaguely at the sea.

“Skim stones.”

“What?”

“Here we call it skimming stones. Not skipping rocks.”

“And it’s pech blini in Russia and hacer ranitas in Spain. We didn’t pitch your tea into Boston Harbor just to keep doing everything the same way you did.”

The words were bellicose but for once he was able to pick up on the tone, and when he looked through the ringlets that the breeze was blowing into her face, he could see that she was pinching her lips together to keep from smiling.

“I remember,” he said, slowly, “The great skimming stones debate that provoked the revolution. We learnt all about it at school. That’s why we burnt down your White House. That and your willful mispronunciation of aluminium.”

The girl burbled a laugh, and it was not as unpleasant as it mostly was when girls laughed. The “with” not “at” made all the difference.

Because he was eighteen years old and still desperately trying to pass for normal, Sherlock said, “I’m Will.”

She was twenty-one, and Mary Morstan and the rest of her pseudonyms were well into the future. So because it was the simple truth, she said, “I’m Rose. Nice to meet you, Will. I can teach you how to skip rocks properly if you want. Though it’ll wreck your attempt to look all Byronic and interesting.”

Sherlock frowned, though he wasn’t quite sure what Byronic meant, honestly. “I wasn’t trying to look like anything.”

“Oh come on. Alone, staring out over the sunset sea, the wind ruffling your hair. Very ‘Adieu, Adieu, my native shore.’”

“This is my native shore, I just wanted to look at the tide pools. Anyway, why are you here?”

“I,” she said, grandly, “Am way too close to shitfaced and I need to take a break for an hour. And I thought you looked Byronic and interesting. Where are there tide pools?”

He angled his head to their right. “Back that way. Maybe half a mile.”

“Let’s go see them!”

“I’ve seen them. And you aren’t wearing the appropriate shoes for climbing.”

Rose looked down at her cheap flip-flops, shrugged, and said, “God hates a coward. Come on.”

They’d looked at the tide pools, and Rose hadn’t complained as they scrabbled over rough Purbeck stone to get to them. Being a small woman, she’d asked for a hand up on two occasions, but she didn’t complain, and she was genuinely interested in the sea slugs and anemones they found.

Then they’d moved on to another section of swimming beach, and now she was trying to teach him to skip rocks.

“Oh! You almost had that one,” she exclaimed, as his latest effort sank.

“What sort of trajectory am I trying for?” he asked. “It really isn’t obvious.”

“Ummmm…” and she pitched another stone, which made four hops before sinking. “I mean, I guess, like fifteen or twenty degrees. But it depends on the rock.”

“Well, that’s helpful.”

“You just take the rock and then you know how you have to throw it. It’s mostly practice.”

“You’re very good at it.”

“It’s what I’m best at,” she said, and the next stone made six skips before it sank. “You got a projectile and need it put someplace specific, I’m your girl.”

“Really?”

“Really. What are you best at?”

He thought about it for a minute.

“Deductions. That’s what I’m best at.”

“Like… in geometry? If AB equals BC then A equals C?”

“Sort of. But it’s not just that. I can do it for other things. And people.”

“How?”

“Just like in geometry. You use if-then logic and come to the appropriate conclusion. Except most people aren’t aware of all of the givens, and I am.”

“O-kay,” she said, slowly, “So, like, what can you deduce about me?”

He cocked his head, doubtfully, and asked, “You want me to do that?”

Rose shrugged. “Why not? What have I got to hide?”

Sherlock wished he hadn’t mentioned it, now. It would spoil what had been a surprisingly pleasant afternoon. She was only asking because she’d never seen him do it… nobody really wanted his deductions. Everyone had something to hide.

But she had asked and declining would be nearly as offensive, he supposed. So he let himself really look. Excessive dark-blonde hair, no jewelry, black midriff-baring top with thin straps and no bra (irrelevant, he chided himself), well-developed lean musculature particularly in the shoulders. Mid-priced wide-legged flared jeans clumsily home-hemmed, since she fell between the “petite” and “regular” lengths. He walked behind her, continuing his examination, and smiled. The grey plaid flannel shirt she had knotted around her waist had a great deal of relevant information.

Returning in front of her, he asked, “May I have a look at your hands?” Rose complied, extending them forward, palms up. Her hands, with their emerald-green fingernails and distinctive musculature, had almost everything else he thought he could get, except-

“And a better look at the tattoo, please?”

Rose smiled and raised an eyebrow at that, but complied, slipping a thumb under the waistband of her jeans and tugging them down another inch or two to reveal a small, stylized design of a leafless tree struck by lightning (and incidentally a crest of pale hipbone and just a flash of red plaid underwear).

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“Entirely.” And Sherlock was.

“So what do you deduce?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. You’re an American-“

“Well that was a toughie,” Rose teased.

“From Iowa. You’re a natural linguist but you’re studying chemistry. You played softball seriously, as a pitcher, until a rotator cuff injury which you opted not to have corrected bought your sporting ambitions to an end within the last year. Upper middle class family, strict parents. You currently live with a wire-haired terrier you dislike, you’re sentimental, and you’re a keen amateur cook.”

And that had done it, of course. Her face, which had formerly seemed naturally happy, had closed off and become hostile. She took a step away from him, and said, coldly, “Has Victor been talking about me behind my back?”

“You know Victor Trevor?” Sherlock asked.

“Everybody knows Victor. Answer the question.”

“No, he hasn't. I told you. I looked and I listened. Teeth straightened in adolescence, a selection of newish mid-priced clothes, spending a semester abroad? Well off but probably not rich family, then. You know, at no notice, idiomatic phrases in two separate languages describing an unusual activity? Clearly, there’s a gift for languages. The mild splay of the fingers in your dominant hand and unusual muscular development in your shoulders, along with your obvious aptitude for throwing suggests softball and pitching. The slight pull and hesitation when you draw that arm back would allow any doctor to diagnose a rotator cuff injury, a career-ending one without surgical correction, and yet you lack scars. Thus softball is over.”

Rose cocked her head and looked at him, but at least the anger was gone. So he continued.

“There’s particularly contoured dog hair common to wire-haired terriers on your jeans, meaning it’s fond of you, but none on your shirt, meaning you don’t pick it up, and you aren’t fond of it.”

“Marco’s a drooler and he scratches. Anyway I’m more of a cat person.”

“Cats eat you after you’re dead. They don’t even wait until they’re starving, just mildly peckish.”

“True, but on the other hand, I’m dead in this situation. So who cares?”

Sherlock nodded slowly, “Very practical. You’ve got enough minor knife and burn injuries to your hands to suggest you spend a lot of time cooking but your forearm development isn’t substantial enough to indicate professional work in the field. I can tell you study chemistry because of the marks on your shirt. They never properly clean the lab benches off and you lean into the edges and get some trace amounts of peroxide or acid on the material… which then produces distinctive straight lines of bleaching the next time the shirt is laundered. I have some of the same ones, see?”

He gestured to his trousers, where the bleaching effect occurred on him, given his greater height.

“Huh,” Rose said, “I never really thought about that. So why Iowa?”

“Ah, I was right!”

“Not really. Nebraska. But just across the river from Iowa.”

Sherlock sighed. “Accents are difficult with anyone young enough to have watched television as a child. But the Iowa accent is marked by monopthongs and “T”-glottalization, and you have it.”

“I have no idea what those things are,” Rose said, musingly, “But since most people around here think New York and L.A. are the only two cities in America that’s actually really good.”

Sherlock felt the blood rushing to his face with pride, and so he kept on, “You’re sentimental because that flannel is battered and you’ve fixed three different tears rather than just discarding it, even though it was never terribly expensive.”

“I saw Nirvana in this shirt.”

Sherlock frowned, wondering if she meant she was Buddhist, and then recalled the band.

“That tattoo,” he wrapped up, “Is a Marius Cook, done about five months ago. I’ve made a bit of a study of the major tattoo artists of the United Kingdom, you’d be surprised at how often it’s useful. You’ve been of legal age to get tattooed for some time but waited until you were well away from home and then did it instantly but kept it someplace easy to hide, thus: strict parents.”

It was dark, now, and someone had pulled out a guitar and was strumming amateurish chords. Sherlock and Rose had looked at one another and, in a moment of pure intoxicated understanding

The semen had more or less dried on her thighs by the time Rose decided that Will wouldn’t be back, even to collect his shirt. She sighed and rubbed her stubble-burned face. Then she pulled on her underwear and jeans, and sat and looked up at the stars, which were slightly more mobile than they ought to have been.

She’d liked him. He wasn’t handsome, but five years and twenty pounds of weight gain would probably have made him so. And he was sweet. Clumsy and inexperienced, yes, but intelligent and fun to talk with… essentially, she’d been very happy with the encounter and now she felt…

Cheap. Which was undoubtedly what her mother would have said about anyone who fucked a man who she’d just met and was expecting to never see again. So Rose had a bit of a self-pitying snivel, and cried about her troubles.

Eventually her natural good humor resurfaced (she had the beneficial confidence of someone who had taken a birth control pill every day for the last three years) and she said, smiling to herself, “Jilted by a gentleman. If I can get ruined and discarded by a redcoat I can have my own Gothic novel.”

She collected the blanket and Will’s shirt, then ambled back to the party, which was still in full swing, although the Oxford contingent seemed to have gone. Her flatmate Magda spotted her and called out, “There you are, you whore. Where’d tall dark and skinny run off to?”

“I think I frightened him away,” Rose replied, lightly, “English boys are all prudes. Are there any more of those screwdrivers?”

Magda gestured wildly at the five gallon drinks cooler behind her. “About half.”

“Good. About half sounds just about right.” And she wadded Will’s shirt up, tossed it into a nearby rubbish bin, and poured herself a drink.

They both forgot all about it. The vodka helped Rose do a great deal of this within the first twenty-four hours. Then there was the fact that Byronic-and-interesting Will was neither the first nor the last of a long string of men that would eventually span four continents, some of whom would disappoint her in far more spectacular fashion. By the time she buried Rose and became Mary, she could skim stones without even vaguely recalling that summer afternoon.

Sherlock didn’t forget much, and so deleting Rose took an effort of willpower. He performed a few subsequent experiments with sex and came to the conclusion that it was unlikely to be productive of any good and indeed, subjected him to undesirable sentimentality. Cocaine was a far more efficient euphoric and asked much less of him, in the end. The choice to purge his files on the subject en masse was therefore simple logic and had nothing to do with wishing to shed the recollection of a callow, prematurely-ejaculating version of himself.

When, much later, he plugged the memory stick marked AGRA into his laptop and began reading the files, the name Rose Addison didn’t stir even the faintest reminiscence.

“Oh no. Oh my God, you’re- You died! You jumped off a roof!”

That was the first thing she ever said to him.

#WIP #Marylock #BBC Sherlock fic #pre-series #unilock #Was going to be smutty but I dried up on how to write those bits and so is just #t-rated #Quarto's fics

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fatandnerdy30 · 4 years

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The Little Princess Chapter 5

They officially meet! But, it doesn’t go as planned....

The tea was steeping in the porcelain pot on the table, the smell already easing Remondin's aching head. He'd drank more than he would in a lifetime in under a week. The news of Michelle's passing had hit him hard, and his heart still ached. For the past three days he'd been blaming himself for not fighting harder to get to her, to see her again.

Even in his worst nightmares he never thought this would happen. Now he had nothing else. His finger brushed against the ring on his middle finger and his eyes went to it. In the light a tiny pendant shone inside the amber setting, the last present Michelle had given him before he had to leave. Remondin's chest tightened as he stared at it, jumping when the teapot crossed his vision, Trevor filling his cup.

"Remondin?" Trevor's voice was soft as he filled the man's cup before doing the same with his own, then his wife's. "Are you all right?"

Out of habit Remondin nodded, but he was far from it. He'd just lost the love of his life for the second time. What was worse, she'd been gone for the last three years. Shouldn't he have felt something was wrong? Maybe he had, but was just too busy. There was so much there that needed to be done. Now he regretted every moment he was away from her.

A noise caught his attention. It was coming from the guest room. Did Susan have a visitor? It sounded again and he sat up straight. It sounded like a scream, a tiny and terrified scream. He partially stood, stopping when a hand grabbed his arm.

"Rem, I wouldn't go in there right now," Trevor stood to block the other man's way, but he was moved with a powerful arm, Remondin stepping past him.

"What in the bloody hell is going on in here?" He pushed the partially open door, expecting to see Susan holding some kind of injured animal, but what he saw was much worse.

The tiny girl almost blended in with the pillow, she was so small. Her hair was platinum blonde and long, fanning around her as she scurried to get away from Susan. From his position he couldn't see her face clearly, but assumed it was twisted in horror. Remondin stepped further into the room and felt his heart stop. She was terrified, but her face was so familiar.

Stepping closer still he felt the color drain away from his face. The slight body, her heart shaped face, sea-green eyes, so much like his own, but she looked like..."Michelle?" he asked, hope ringing in his voice. No, this couldn't be her. She looked more like...

When he spoke the girl flinched, a whimper coming from her. "N-no," she stuttered. She was pressed into the pillow, half hiding herself, half staring up at him. "That's my mother's name."

Remondin could have sworn his heart went through the floor, and checked just to make sure there wasn't a hole in between his feet. This was Michelle's child? Had she gotten over him and married another?

"Remmy, this isn't what you think," Susan began but stopped at a glare from him.

"Not what I think?" he seethed. "You bring Michelle's child here to me, after what you told me just three days ago? When it's obvious she met another...I didn't know you were a sadist, Susan." He turned his back on them. "Return her to her family and allow me to grieve in peace." His hand was on the knob when he heard a tiny voice call from the bed.

"Wait," Hannah called, her body trembling. When the man turned his head to look at her, she squeaked and held herself tighter. Why am I speaking?

It was obvious this man wanted nothing from her, but he looked like he was in so much pain. "My mother never met another man. At least not while I've been alive. It was always her and me." She uncurled a little from her position, keeping an eye on the three giant people all the while, not trusting them. "She told me about my dad a lot, though. She said she loved him more than life itself, but he had to leave before I was born. She always said I had his eyes, eyes that always reminded her of the sea."

She took a deep breath when the man fully turned, a simple action seeming so much larger to her. But, when she looked into his face, recognition dawned on her. The picture! Sitting up, she squinted her eyes a little. He was older, his hair was gray in some areas, but...this was the man in the picture with his mother. This was her father.

She got to her feet in a single shot, shock overtaking her fears. She looked up at Susan, the woman's face holding a smile as she nodded then turned to the man.

"Remondin, meet your daughter."

The world stopped turning in a matter of three words. Remondin's gaze slowly left his sister's to target on the girl standing on the bed. His daughter? No, it was impossible. Michelle would have told him...unless...she hadn't even known when he left. Could she have found out later on after he left?

And he never went back to even check on her. He left her alone to raise their supposed child alone while he ruled a country, fighting off lady courtiers. Anger bubbled from his stomach for one person in particular. Susan. How could she have done this to him?

He turned his glare on his sister, pleased when she took a step back, her hand going to her throat. "You tell me Michelle died three years ago, and then behind my back bring her child, whom you claim was forged from our love here? And from the looks of it, not preparing her for what was in store?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl had gone back to hiding in the pillow, but he couldn't control himself now. He'd waited too long to let this anger out.

"Look at her!" Remondin pointed a finger toward the bed. "She could have been killed in the portal! You know that!"

Hannah felt her heart about to give out from watching the man rant at Susan. His voice was so loud, it hurt her ears. But, in a way she was glad the woman was getting scolded, since she drugged her, and could have killed her apparently. But, she also felt bad. The man was scary when he was angry. Suddenly his gaze was on her and she froze, feeling like a mouse in the sights of a hawk. He moved and she nearly wet herself when he stomped up to her on the bed, his knees towering over her.

"When were you born?" Remondin asked the girl. He tried softening his voice, but it was obvious when he failed, the girl flinching back and curling into a ball.

"O-October twelfth..nineteen-ninety-nine." Her voice quivered, strained from both fear and the held back tears that shone in her eyes when she tried to look up at the man. Was he mad at her now for something? But she was the victim who'd been drugged and dragged through some portal!

"Nineteen..." Remondin voice trailed off as he counted the years since he'd left the human realm, digging up the numbers in his head. That day was sixteen years and nine months to the day he'd been called back. His legs buckled and he turned to sit on the bed, not missing the shriek when the girl was thrown off the pillow.

Hannah wasn't expecting the man to flop down next to her, so when she went flying through the air she couldn't hide her terror. She hit the bed again with a small 'oof' and rolled, not stopping until she hit a warm cloth wall, knowing automatically what it was. She struggled to get away from the man's leg, but she was suddenly pinned down by something rough and leathery to the touch. She clenched her eyes shut, her body rigid.

"Were you planning on hiding her from me?" Remondin bit out. He felt the girl stiff under his hand and felt a twinge of regret. "How long would you keep her away from me? Would you even have allowed her to speak to me?" He shook his head when Susan opened her mouth to speak. "No. No more, Susan. I can't even look at you."

Before the woman could even raise her voice, Remondin closed his hand around the girl pressed to his thigh, ignoring her screams when he raised her up. If he were in a better frame of mind he never would have done this, but he was just too angry and hurt. And the thought that girl was might be the last link left between him and Michelle, that she was something he and the love of his life created, it was too much to get his head around.

He got up from the bed and made his way out of the room, sending Susan a glare when she stepped forward. In his palm he felt the girl squirming, the feeling all too odd for him, and he deposited her into his pants pocket before leaving the home.

Susan had snapped out of her stupor when she saw her brother's actions and ran toward the front door, but she was too late. The door was slammed shut and by the time she'd gotten to it, her brother was already at the carriage waiting to take him home. "Hannah..." she whispered. She'd failed her, and her brother.

#The Little Princess #Original Work #father/daughter #g/t #g/t community

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aquilaofarkham · 5 years

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title: judith & holofernes rating: teen and up (canon-typical violence, blood, coarse language, child harm) word count: 5,829 summary: a long one-shot detailing Trevor’s life following the destruction of his home and how he learned to fight from a retired, disgraced swordswoman.

For a boy so determined to face his own death, Trevor has always been good at running. Whether down the stone corridors of his home or throughout the dense forests surrounding the Belmont grounds. He’s won competitions against his friends and outran vengeful cooks after he stole their pastries from the manor kitchen. He even outran the fire that consumed everything and everyone he knew for twelve years. Everyone he loved.

Now Trevor runs from a man who wants nothing more than to slit his throat.

He pulls himself up a steep hill overlooking the riverside city of Pitesti. It’s a nice place to visit when you’re not an orphan with a temper that far outweighs his own stature and body mass. Trevor looks over his shoulder and sees the same merchant who chased him through the streets, still heavily armed, still red faced with anger.

“Get back here, thief! I said get back here!” Trevor didn’t listen the first dozen times so why should he listen now?

“Fuck off! I said I didn’t steal anything!” It’s true, he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. And said all the wrong things. Mistakes that could cost him his short, tragic life. The two of them make it up the hill, short of breath yet neither willing to stop. Before Trevor can gain his second wind, something hard and fast hits the back of his skull. He falls to the ground, cursing while holding the throbbing, bleeding wound. There’s no time to recover or crawl away. The merchant turns the boy around, pushing him against the dirt with his hand gripping his collar.

“Listen you shit stain...” Trevor spits in his eye before he can say another word. Another mistake. The first punch hurts. It leaves him with a thin stream of blood dripping out the corner of his mouth. Trevor grits his teeth, kicking and throwing his own punches even when he receives much harder ones. The merchant has had enough. Holding him down by his neck, he withdraws a dagger from his belt.

“No one will come looking for a rat like you.”

“Let the boy go.” A third, unknown voice commands. Trevor raises his head and tries looking at whoever decided to stand up for a runt like him. A few feet away stands a woman with thick black hair and eyes darker than night wearing a man’s tunic, trousers, and boots. She keeps one hand on her horses’ reins and the other on her belt, where Trevor notices the hilt of a sword and the shine of a large ring.

“Let him go.” She repeats, staring down at the merchant with distain. “And leave. You’re in my way.”

He sneers, standing to face her. “Why should I? Are you his mother?”

“Why should it matter whether I know him or not?”

“Then leave this criminal to me.”

“He’s proclaimed innocence. Or do fair trials still not exist in Wallachia?”

“You’d believe a brat like him?”

“I’d believe him over a man like yourself. Go back to your home and your precious bags of coin. Leave the boy to me. I’ll deal with him.” She walks towards Trevor while hoping the merchant will cooperate.

“Don’t turn your back to me! We’re-!”

The woman’s calm demeanour turns furious as she whips around and backhands him across the face. No hesitation, no second thought. Falling to his knees, he holds his cheek as his eyes go wide with shock and pain. Trevor sees the ring dripping with blood.

“I was going to let you walk away. I was willing to settle this peacefully. But now that you keep pissing me off...”

“You... you bitch...” The merchant weakly lunges at her but the woman throws him back down before bringing the heel of her boot onto his arm. Trevor’s interest in all of this deepens the moment she unsheathes her longsword. When she places the tip in the grass and swipes it across his fingers, the merchant is given something far more than a slap across the cheek to scream about. Dark red mixes with green as what’s left of his hand bleeds out.

“I think I’ve made myself clear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He’s lost a fair amount of blood and the world keeps spinning, but the merchant has more than learned his lesson. After tripping over himself, he manages to flee back to the gates of Pitesti. The swordswoman watches until he’s out of sight and glances at Trevor. There’s still blood on his lip and a hardened look in his eyes.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m not a little boy. I can look after myself.”

“Yes, I can clearly see that.” She begins tending to her horse.

“So, is this what you do all day? Travel around, looking to be a hero to people who can already fight for themselves?”

“Do you go from city to city trying to get yourself killed by the next merchant or lord you come across?” Trevor’s far too stubborn to agree or even answer her question. “And you don’t know how to fight.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fuck you.”

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“If I don’t know how to fight then teach me. You look like you know better than anyone how to fight.”

“You’re pushing your luck, boy.”

“Just teach me what you know. Then I’ll leave and you never have to see me again.”

“A moment ago, you were telling me to fuck off.”

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry. Please!”

“Why should I train you?”

“I’ll do anything you want. Whatever I can do to earn my keep.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I can cook my own meals and wash my own clothes.” She says, lifting herself up onto the horse. “Now go back to your mother and try explaining to her that bloody lip of yours.”

“I have no one!” Trevor suddenly blurts. Thankfully, the swordswoman doesn’t get very far. “You probably have no one either.”

“… you’re a perceptive little shit, aren’t you?”

Tense silence passes. The boy is rude, violent, and has a rotten mouth. He reminds her of someone she knew a long, long time ago. A person she tried burying when it was time to grow up. She looks closer and notices a raveled rope attached to his loose-fitting belt – or is it a whip? Why a simple whip and not a sword of his own? She then sees the curve of a silver chain peeking out from underneath his tunic collar. She still believes his innocence, but there’s no doubt about it; heirlooms made from that material aren’t so easy to stumble upon. He must have come from a noble family then.

The swordswoman lets out an exhausted sigh; a silent way of saying “damn your softening heart”. That little niggling conversation will have to be saved for another time. “What’s your name?”

“Trevor.”

“That’s it? Just Trevor?”

No answer. It seems he might reveal a family name, that something might roll off his tongue, but decides against it. “Alright, just Trevor. My name is Judith. There’s enough room on my horse for two. Don’t fall off and for all that is holy, keep quiet. Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes.”

Her stern expression cracks. “Good.”

ONE WEEK LATER

“Dead.”

Trevor holds his quarterstaff so tightly; his nails leave scratch marks on the wood. He attacks Judith only for her to dodge each one of his blows before striking the side of his stomach.

“Dead.”

The sound of his heart pounding in his ears fuels Trevor with more adrenaline, but it doesn’t make him a better opponent. Judith knocks him to the rain drenched ground in one swift movement. He grabs something around his neck and quickly tucks it under his shirt. “Very dead.”

This has been going on for quite some time now. Judith believes she’s teaching him valuable lessons. The student thinks he’s learned nothing except how to fall down and get smacked around with the tip of a blunt object. Much can be gained from mistakes and better Trevor makes them here behind her house instead of on the battlefield. She hopes he’ll realize this. Eventually.

“Enough of this. Try defending yourself.” Judith waits as Trevor gets back on his feet. He raises the staff, his frustration near its limit. He does well at first, blocking her assaults, dodging at the right moments albeit slowly, and protecting himself. She can tell that every muscle is aching for him to strike back, but Trevor resists. It’s an improvement. If they weren’t in the middle of sparring, she would congratulate him.

That is until Judith’s staff bruises his cheek and his defensive facade breaks. Rage boils back up towards the surface with no incentive to control it. Control is the last thing on Trevor’s mind. As his weapon is easily struck out of his hands, falling against the ground followed by himself, Judith wonders if he even knows the meaning of the word. Either way, she’ll make sure the boy learns.

“Well, today was better than the others.” She offers her hand only for Trevor to strike it away. Once again, she notices him clutching something close to his chest.

“Just say exactly what you’re thinking.”

“And what am I thinking according to you?”

“I’m weak. Weak, stupid, and a disappointment.”

Judith is caught off guard by these bold statements. There’s little trace of Trevor’s spiteful or vicious fury in his tone. He doesn’t shout or curse up a storm. Instead there’s apathy and disheartenment above all. Laying her staff in the grass, she sits down in front of him.

“True, I was disappointed but only because I saw a glimpse of your potential before it was gone.”

“What potential? All I did was fall on my ass over and over again. That’s the only thing you’ve been teaching me.”

“You managed to defend yourself for a little while.”

“How am I expected to win that way? What good will it do me in a real fight?”

“A lot, actually. If you’d listen to me for once you would understand that.” Judith can feel her own temper rising but catches it and gently pushes the mounting emotions down. It won’t do either of them any good. She takes a deep breath and continues.

“Trevor… you have promise and I know it, but during a fight you let your frustrations bury it. I want to know why this happens. What is making you so damn pissed off? Is it me, your own skills, that merchant from Pitesti, what?”

“Everything. If you want to know so badly, it’s everything.”

Well, that narrows it down. She stares at Trevor, his face battered and his gaze avoidant. Then Judith sees it again – the subtle gleam of the silver chain. She wants to find the root of it all; the reason for his anger, how he lost his family, and why he keeps hiding that chain. But Judith doesn’t exorcise personal demons while Trevor never asked her to. She’s here as a teacher passing down her skills and whatever might be considered wisdom. That’s all he expects from her, that’s all she can give him.

“Fine then. Keep that anger. Use it. You can be in an absolute fucking rage and focused at the same time. Control all that spitefulness, use it to your advantage. Even if you’re out of a fight and just trying to survive one day to the next. But don’t let it control you.”

“That sounds hard.”

“It is. Everything is hard, but you already know that. You said it yourself.” Taking both staffs, Judith makes her way back to the house. “Come. You’re weak because you don’t have any food in you.”

Trevor doesn’t dispute this. His stomach heaves with every movement not because of the lesson or any oncoming sickness, but because of emptiness. He’s too defeated, too exhausted to deny it any longer. He follows Judith into their small shack that always smells like smoke and fresh meat. It’s big enough for the two of them, but the fur pelts and half-skinned rabbit carcasses hanging from the rafters turn the cozy space claustrophobic. At least it’s warm.

Supper is the same as it was since Trevor arrived here: meat stew with root vegetables. Yet he hasn’t grown tired of it, better some food than nothing at all. And he’s in no position to complain about his current living conditions. He sits on the floor, legs crossed with a hot steaming bowl in his lap while Judith sits across from him. Like the food, every evening is the same; they eat in silence before retiring to their ratty beds. They could talk about anything. Their thoughts, pasts, things that normal households talk about over dinner. Most of all, Trevor could tell the truth about who he really is. But no one needs to know about that.

“Stop playing with that thing and eat your food.”

Trevor’s head perks up. He’s so lost in his own thoughts, he doesn’t notice how cold his stew has become. All his attention is on fiddling around with the necklace like a nervous tick. His protective wall goes up as he hides it from Judith’s view. “It’s not a toy.”

“Then can I see it?” Her request is immediately greeted with more suspicion and slight hostility. “I’m not going to keep it. You’ve had that thing since the moment I met you and I just want to see what it is.”

The boy’s tense shoulders gradually relax. Finally, after all her curious glances and personal assumptions, Trevor removes the chain, slowly dropping it into Judith’s palm. Now she’ll see for herself the one thing he keeps so far away from the outside world. It’s lighter than she thought and easily tangled. As for its pendant, it’s no family crest or jewel or lucky rabbit’s foot (though lord knows the boy needs something like that). What Judith is presented with instead is a silver six-pointed star compounded from two interlaced triangles – a Magen David.

She knew Trevor would surprise her sooner than later. She never thought it would be through a revelation like this. “Where did you get this?”

“I’ve had it since I was a baby.” Trevor responds, his tone just as defensive as it was during their sparring match. “My mother gave it to me.”

“Then your family was Jewish.” Whoever they really were. Judith keeps this thought to herself. Trevor sits up and suddenly grabs the necklace out of her open hand.

“Half.”

“Half or full, doesn’t make you any less.”

“How would you know about that?”

Judith places her bowl off to the side. If Trevor won’t tell her more about his past, then she won’t tell him about hers. What she can do on the other hand is tell him a story, one that might help him understand. “Do you know the tale of Judith and Holofernes?”

“… not really.”

Her gaze wanders off. “Supposedly a thousand years ago, a Jewish widow named Judith tricked an enemy general named Holofernes who was terrorizing her people and land. She snuck into his tent and sliced his head off then paraded it around as proof of her victory. She did the one thing that so many armies and soldiers couldn’t do. Guess my mother thought I was going to become someone great just because she named me after some fairy tale.” Judith brings her attention back to Trevor. “But now we at least have one thing in common, don’t we?”

The look on Trevor’s face softens; subtly and easily missed, but it’s there. Even if it takes time, he might grow used to living here. He may even like it now that they’ve finally found some common ground.

SIXTEEN

Trevor sits in front of the crowded fireplace, warmed by the dancing, crackling flames. Draped over one hand is his old shirt. Once far too big for his scrawny back, looking more like a nightgown, but is now a close enough fit. In the other hand, he holds a needle and yellow thread, weaving them in and out through the beige fabric. He’s gotten better at it; he pricks his finger only on occasion as opposed to every single time the needle emerges.

This homely, smoke-filled shack feels so much smaller than it did when he was twelve. Trevor notices the change more than ever, but he doesn’t leave even when remembering what he said all those years ago. Judith would teach him how to fight and he would go, never to bother her again. Here he stays, carefully and patiently embroidering a symbol into the breast of his tunic. His strength has improved, his focus grown keener, and his mouth fouler. Judith is grateful for two out of those three developments. He’s grateful – perhaps even surprised – that she’s still willing to put up with him.

Once the needle tip leaves its last prick, Trevor examines his handy work, moving his palm over the elaborate design. The Magen David dangles off his neck as he lowers his head in order to get a closer look. Half or full, doesn’t make you any less. It’s been so long since he heard those words from Judith, but they still ring loud and true. Years since Trevor decided to take them seriously, now he can hold both halves of himself close to his heart.

His attention is broken when he hears the front door open. Judith walks in, her heavy boots thumping loudly against the wooden floor, while bundles of rabbit and wild goose hang from her belts. “Ah. Right where I left you.” She huffs, dropping her coat, crossbow, and bounty on a nearby table. “God’s sake put something on boy. You’ll catch your death.”

“Fire’s been keeping me warm enough while I work.”

“And can I ask what it is you’re working on?”

Trevor hesitates, understandably. There’s the possibility that Judith won’t know where the symbol originated from but even if she doesn’t, she’ll still pester him about it. And what if she does know? What will she say? Will there be sympathy, revulsion, or indifference? Trevor’s tired of all the what ifs and his own paranoid assumptions. It’s been long enough, he can’t hide it forever. Not from anyone, including himself.

“I should tell you the truth about my family.”

“Well, this is a surprise. Especially since you’ve waited this long to tell me.” Judith smiles in anticipation as she pulls up a stool. “Go on then.”

Trevor pauses before showing her his shirt. “This was… is my family’s crest.” She stares at it with more careful thought than he expected.

“So you really were from a noble family.”

“Do you recognize it?”

“… the Belmont crest.”

He feels his chest tighten at the sound of someone else saying his name out loud. A name he tried erasing only because of his need to self-preserve and survive. “What do you know of them?”

“I know that they were a family of warriors who hunted vampires but were accused of dealing in black magic. Then the church and witchfinders all but wiped them out.”

“Do you believe it?”

“In vampires? Certainly. As for whether your family actually dealt in black magic? I don’t believe anything that comes out of the church’s mouth. Neither should you.” Trevor can’t help but let out a chuckle. Judith needn’t worry about that; he never did to begin with. “Is that why you didn’t say anything after all this time?”

“I’m still just Trevor. Same as when you picked me up. A family name doesn’t change that.”

“Why not? If your family was wrongly persecuted, then why be ashamed of the name?”

“There are no ifs. We were wrongly persecuted.” Trevor snaps before reverting back to his quiet demeanor. “And it’s not what I think, it’s what others think.”

“Fuck what they think. They don’t get to define the Belmont name, only you do.”

Like with everything, there’s truth in what Judith says. Whether Trevor accepts it or not, it’s always been up to him. He’s still young, maybe there’s enough time for him to clear his family name. Wipe the slate clean and bring the Belmonts back to their former glory. It would have been far too much pressure to place on a lost, wandering child. Trevor might have more of a chance now.

Or maybe he’s being a fool. Maybe time is running out. Too many maybes for one day. Too many for one short lifetime.

“What about you?” He asks, deflecting as quick as he can. “You still haven’t told me about where you came from.”

Judith stands up and walks into the kitchen. When she speaks, she doesn’t look at Trevor. “I came from a backwoods shithole village. That’s all you need to know.”

“What about how you learned to fight? Where you got all your weapons and pieces of armor.”

“Can’t remember. Must have picked those off a dead soldier I found lying by the side of the road years ago.” She’s as good at deflecting as he is.

“You’re such a bullshit liar.”

“Respect your elders, boy.” Another laugh escapes her lips. “Now put on that shirt and help me skin these.”

EIGHTEEN

The Wallachian countryside can be a beautiful place; it can also be miserable. Especially during the coldest, dullest winter months. Trevor can’t help but notice this while he and Judith ride through a farming village. Both their horses are heavy with newly acquired goods that should last them until the first thaw of spring. He buries his mouth and nose into the thick fur collar of his cloak in an attempt to warm himself. His teacher keeps her head up, seemingly unfazed as the falling snow blends with the grey in her dark hair. While her eyes remain focused on the road, Trevor’s attention wanders from house to house, frozen field after frozen field. It must be hard for the people who work them.

“Wait…” Judith holds her arm out, stopping both horses. “Shit, not this again.” Down the road not too far from them are two shepherds yelling at each other, one on either side of a crowd of sheep and goats. Every time they try to clear the way for other travelers, their corrals dissolve into more insults as the two herds grow more chaotic.

A common occurrence, but an annoying one nonetheless. “Might as well go help,” Judith groans. “Stay here with the horses. This shouldn’t take long.” While she heads off to lend her assistance (or her own strong words), Trevor waits, his thin patience soon giving way to boredom. The cold wind and lonely silence don’t help. His eyes continue to stray before they settle on a nearby farmhouse. Quaint, humble, like all the rest. Standing by the front door are two women, one clearly older than the other, and a man. Among them, their expressions range from frantic, to scared, to furious. Trevor assumes they’re just another family arguing about the state of their crops. Until they begin to shout things that should never be said within a family.

“It’s been weeks already and I still don’t have the full amount!”

“Please, just calm down.” The eldest woman tries telling the man as she holds onto her daughter. “We’ll have the rest once it’s easier to farm.”

“Stop making excuses!”

“The grounds are too hard, nothing can be grown!”

“I’m not waiting until spring to get the rent!”

Trevor furrows his brow. Not a father, but a landlord. All the more reason to intervene. After making sure Judith is still busy with the shepherds, he begins his trek towards the house. He keeps his whip and sword at the ready, though he hopes he won’t be needing those. Strong words, that’s all he needs.

“We’ve already sold as much as we could.”

“You knew the conditions when I sold you and your fatherless brat this plot of land. Now pay what you owe, or I’ll take it back and give it to someone who knows how to pay their rent on time!”

“Keep screaming like that and soon only dogs will hear you.” Trevor stands behind the landlord, arms crossed while trying to seem much older than he actually is; a trait he’s held onto since the very beginning. “Leave them alone. They’re right, the soil’s too cold for anyone to farm anything. You’ll get your money eventually.”

As the mother and daughter gaze in confusion, the landlord spits next to Trevor’s feet. “This doesn’t concern you. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and learn to mind yourself.”

“If it’s pissing you off so much, then let me pay the rest of their rent. Just stop harassing them.”

The women’s eyes go wide, thinking this is too good to really be happening. They expect the young man to take back his word or waver from it, but Trevor remains firm in his proposal. If only the landlord were just as willing to take it.

“You’ll pay the rest? You take me for a blithering fool?”

“Yes, but the word I have in mind is a lot harsher than just fool.”

The landlord ignores his quip and carries on with his tirade. “Have you even looked at yourself? You’re a filthy loud-mouthed boy trying desperately to be a man. You probably haven’t got a single coin on you. What makes you think you have the gall to stick your ratty little nose into other people’s goddamn business?”

Years ago, Trevor wanted a chance to dig the Belmont name out of the dirt. He always thought of it as another fleeing wish, a hope that would never come to fruition. But he’s waited long enough. No more second guesses or worries of what others might say. Staring the landlord dead in his eyes, Trevor reveals the symbol upon his breast. “Does this answer your question?”

“… so you’re a Belmont. Is that supposed to impress me?”

“You asked why I stick my nose into other people’s business. This is why.” Despite his composure, there’s anger in every syllable Trevor utters. This man who screams about money, land, and everything else that keeps his pockets heavy will only make it worse.

“Isn’t that the very reason why all your kin are gone? Belmonts shoving themselves into places where they aren’t wanted, causing a big noise about make believe creatures when they’re the real monsters.”

“Bold words coming from a man threatening a mother and her daughter’s livelihood.”

“What about my livelihood? What about how I make a living? And you? You’re nothing but a back sore with a noble family’s crest. Nobility that was only achieved through murder, fear, and dark magic. What makes you think I should listen to you?”

One terrible, hateful statement after another. The landlord quickly pays for it with Trevor’s fist ramming against his cheek. The blow is hard enough to draw a stream of blood and the rearrangement of a few teeth. “You’ll do as I say because I’m the only one in this shithole of a country that knows how to protect arses like yourself.”

Both women shriek and back away as the daughter clings to her mother’s dress. Grabbing the man’s collar decorated with spots of red, Trevor pays them no attention. Not even when he drags him behind the house. They’ve seen enough already. Before the landlord has a chance to stand up on trembling legs, he punches him twice again. The last Belmont, no longer a boy but barely a man, ignores the pain shooting through his knuckles.

“For centuries, my family defended you from creatures that would make you piss yourself to death in fear, and this is how you repay us?” Trevor’s fist collides with his gut.

“By telling lies?” Then again.

“Chasing us out of our homelands?”

And again.

“Burning down our homes?!”

Again.

“Trevor, what the fuck are you doing?!” The one thing that can stop him is the sudden sound of Judith’s voice and her arms pulling him away from the violent scene he created. “Stop! Goddamn it, stop!” He wrestles out of her grip and turns with wild, rage filled eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Only when Trevor sees his handiwork does he find the strength to calm down. The landlord, cowering against the stone wall. Trevor’s hands covered with splatters of blood, shaking in the cold. A revelation hits him harder than any of his punches were. He did exactly what Judith taught him; used his anger to his advantage. But did the man deserve it? That merchant from so long ago did. Are they the same?

“Let’s go.”

“Trevor, wait-”

“I said we’re going!” He rushes back to the horses, his hands so cold and so bloody. The things he said about himself all those years past echo in his head. Weak. Stupid. Disappointment. Is this how he reclaims the Belmont name? Is this how he makes his teacher proud?

TWENTY

“I’m leaving.”

Judith thinks about the last thing Trevor said before walking out the door, not too long following his incident at the farmhouse. After two years, it’s the one thing her failing mind refuses to let her forget. Lying in bed, her frail body deteriorating with every ragged breath, what else can she do? Perhaps it was time. Whatever made Trevor stay had finally worn out. She remembers waking up every morning wondering the same thing – will today be the day that boy grows tired of me? That day did come, but Judith felt no relief as she watched Trevor disappear from her long, raging life. Only a sense of emptiness that spread throughout like the twisted roots of a tree.

It’s a shame, really. He never did find out who she really was.

Judith tries focusing her blurry vision with little success. Even the walls of her own home seem like a strange, foreign place. There are no other sounds apart from her gasps and coughs; she can’t stand it. She always knew that eventually she would die alone; it was expected of people like her. Then why is it so unbearable? What cruel force is forcing her to stay in this world?

The front door opens with a loud, drawn out creak. All Judith can see is a large hazy figure making its way towards her bed. “What do you want?” She croaks out. “I’m a sick, old woman. I have nothing of value for you to take.”

“Judith? Judith, it’s me.”

Her head stops turning from side to side in a frantic motion. Though the voice is deep and soft, she recognizes it. Her eyes blink in disbelief until they at last come into focus. “Trevor? Is that really you?” Judith reaches out until someone grabs her hand and squeezes it. Trevor gives her a tired smile; his hair is longer and now wears upon his jawline something that can barely be considered stubble, but it’s him. She’d know those ice blue eyes and silver Magen David anywhere.

“I’m right here.”

“Where have you been? Kill any vampires while you were gone?”

“Some. Also been drinking more than I really should.”

Judith lets out a violent cough mixed in with a laugh. “What the hell are you doing here then?”

“I came to say I’m sorry… though I think it might be too late for that.”

“Apologize for what?”

“For why I left. After what I did out there on that field, I…” Trevor pauses, thinking about his next words very carefully. “I knew I let you down. That’s why I left like a coward. That’s why I think it’s too late for apologies.”

“Boy…” Another coughing fit. Trevor holds a cloth next to Judith’s mouth and winces when he sees the drops of blood.

“What’s happening?”

“What happens to everyone when they grow older. They grow sicker. Now listen to me – you’re the first person I’ve ever known to say the words I’m sorry… but the fault should be on me. I shouldn’t have pulled you away and screamed at you like that.”

“You would have let me brutalize him?”

“Well, only one or two punches would have done the job better. But you were defending those women, just as I was defending you from that merchant.”

Trevor looks down in a contemplative manner. Has he further sullied the family name of Belmont? Perhaps so, and he’s accepted that possibility. The greater population of Wallachia certainly has. He can try and fail as much as he pleases, but Trevor knows that it will take far more than one decent act to bring about redemption.

“You know…” Judith begins, her voice hoarser than before. “I always wanted children of my own.”

“What stopped you?”

“I knew I would be a shit mother. After what I did… killing and fighting other people’s wars for money with all the other mercenaries… no child deserves a mother like that.”

Trevor gives Judith’s hand another soft squeeze. Under his breath he whispers, “you were never a shit mother”. Too quiet for her to hear.

“There’s one last thing I need you to do.”

“What?”

“Stay with me. Stay until I close my eyes and never open them again. Don’t let me die alone. Then leave this place a little better than you found it.”

He wants to dispute everything she’s saying. Tell her that she won’t die, not for a long time. Trevor can’t deny the truth; it’s useless to even try. The only thing he can do is agree to stay.

THE NEXT MORNING

He buries Judith behind the shack beneath a patch of grass where they always held their sparring lessons. Wrapping her body in blankets, Trevor carries her outside and gently places her inside the hole. He doesn’t cry, not even when he says a small prayer and begins covering the body with dirt. He shed enough tears when he found her in bed, still as the autumn winds outside.

The last Belmont has never been afraid of death. It is natural, inevitable, and inescapable. There’s some comfort in knowing that Judith left this world peacefully, unlike so many others he grew to care for. He feels no regret in knowing her; she was his mentor, his friend. The only regret is now that he’s alone in the world, he might disappoint her once again.

Trevor holds his fur cloak tightly around his shoulders as he saunters away. Before he can leave, he looks back at the front door of a home that will in time eventually crumble and give itself over to the elements. Thinking, he touches the Magen David resting against his chest.

Leave this place better than you found it, he tells himself. Walking forward, Trevor removes the necklace and hangs it on the door.

#castlevania #trevor belmont #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania fic #my writing #*cvfic #ok for non jews to like/reblog #this can also be read @aquilaofarkham on ao3 #jewish trevor #i am on the verge of death bc of this fic

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selfmadesaviour · 1 year

Text

wednesday starters:

accepting / not accepting @immxvable as alex cabot said "i would rather dye my hair pink, than ask my mother for advice."

his face shines up and he grins widely to her, amusement and mischief shining across his expression like a child who just heard they were going to a paintball game. "does that mean i get to dye your hair pink if i stop suggesting you talk to your mom? cause, i could live with that."

his hand runs across the now-large bump beneath her sweater, skin to skin as he rubs the soothing oil into the taut skin of her belly. "i'm just saying, she's been here twice. i've never been pregnant, believe it or not."

#it matters to me ; writing #to tell the truth ; answered #i am clearly a middle child ; trevor #opposites attract ; alex #immxvable #especially heinous ; svu #tw pregnancy

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petehparker · 7 years

Text

Write It Out

Request: *chanting* LONGER FICS, LONGER FICS (just cause i never want ur fics to end, they're so cute) also since requests are open - can we get writer!reader who has writer's block & is struggling to write a romantic scene. peter tries to help her get creative & fluff ensues!

Word Count: 1,269

A/N: hello hello! I’m sorry for the delay with this one, my summer has been a bit insane so far with camps and moving and things like that but I was so eager to return to this writing. Hope you enjoy!! -Claire xx

You sighed, pressing the palm of your hand into your cheek. The coffee shop bustled with life around you, but somehow you still managed to feel like you were in the middle of a dead zone, like you were in the most drab and boring place imaginable- all because of some writer’s block.

You knew you had to get out of your bedroom after several hours of pounding away at the keyboard and finding nothing to write besides the gibberish that resulted, finally packing up your laptop and notes and heading to a nearby coffee shop for fresher surroundings.

You sighed, deleting yet another failed sentence. You were more frustrated with this piece than you could remember being with any other. But this scene was also more important than any other- your protagonist was falling desperately in love with the tall boy with the magic dimples and the quick laugh and this was the moment, the moment in which she looked at him while they were sitting on the roof at midnight, or swinging on a playground that was far too small for them, or driving aimlessly around the neighborhood, the moment in which she realized she was falling for him.

Your only issue was figuring out how it happened; you had run through every option you could think of.

At first, they had been sitting in her basement and he had swung his head into her lap and her hand fell into his hair and it was the way he smiled at her- wrong.

Then, you had tried to write about the bonfire party in the neighborhood, as she watched from afar while he swung little kids by their shoulders and played as if he was a child too- nope.

The next attempt had involved something about a state fair and the top of a Ferris wheel, but you’d deleted it before it could go too far.

You were jolted from your reverie by the scraping of the chair in front of you sliding away from the table. “Mind if I join you?”

Your eyes trailed upwards, soon lighting on a familiar face.

“Peter!” You sat up, your smile instantaneous. “Hi, what are you doing here?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” You sighed, thinking guiltily about your powered off phone at the bottom of your bag.

“Sorry for not texting you back, I’m having some really bad writer’s block right now.”

“Writer’s block? I am the ultimate writer’s block crusher!” His boyish smile seemed as if it could light up the room. “Let me be your muse, dahling.” His face took on a serious charm as he started drawling out his words, looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes.

Despite your feelings of dread about writing, this was enough to crack through a little. “I don’t think that’s how this works.” His expression dropped. “Well, have you ever tried it?” You pinched your mouth to the side. “I guess not.” You barely had time to move your fingers away from the keyboard before he was pressing the lid to your laptop down. Grabbing your coffee and his, he grinned at you. “We’re doing this then. Gather your things, chop chop.”

It took you a minute to reconnect with him outside, where he had his phone out for directions. “You’re coming with me.” His voice retained a joking huskiness as he handed you your coffee.

The path he set out for took you through many familiar streets, although you had no idea where he could be taking you. When you asked, he had just laughed and looped his arm through yours, clearly not willing to say a peep.

You ended up in front of a building you had looked at many a time but never actually entered- one of the only literary centers in New York. “When the words won’t come to you, you come to the words,” Peter told you.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to get lost amongst the shelves, joking around and pulling out the most amusing titles you could find. You almost lost it with laughter when Peter somehow discovered a book called “What’s Your Poo Telling You?”

At some point in your expedition, his hand found yours, tentatively curling his fingers around yours until you flipped your hand and fully intertwined them, offering him a reassuring smile at the contact.

By the time the two of you left the literary center, it was almost dinnertime. You decided to split a milkshake at the closest burger joint.

“So, what are you trying to write exactly?” Peter asked, swirling a fry in ketchup.

“It’s supposed to be this grand romantic scene, with, like, the whole shebang. You know, fireworks and sparks and lovey dovey stuff like that. Cassie’s going to realize she’s in love with Trevor. Trevor’s going to realize he’s in love with Cassie. My only issue is finding out where exactly you go to find love with someone.” You looked up and find Peter staring at you more intently than you expected. “Well, isn’t that an easy one?”

You frowned. “Obviously not, considering it’s taken me days to figure it out. I have to have it finished by this weekend and I have nothing.”

Peter’s smile began to grow. “What about a burger place?”

Your stomach dropped as your eyes fixed on his. “What kind of burger place?”

He looked around. “The kind of burger place where two kids can go to split a milkshake and some fries and maybe one of them will get the nerve to kiss the other one.” Your heart was beating faster and faster. Peter looked unfairly calm. “Well, this sounds like your story now. Does he ever get up the nerve?” “I’ll let you know,” he smiled, that same earth-shattering smile that drove you crazy.

Your own smile began to grow like crazy as you felt yourself flush.

It could have been just your imagination, but the conversation felt like a live wire all through the rest of the milkshake, and paying the bill, and the walk back to your house. You had almost forgotten all about your writing deadline until your eyes fixed on your front door.

“Now it’s time to actually buckle down and write something.” You smiled softly, brushing your knuckles against his like Morse code. “Thank you for today. You were a great muse.” His smile was like a wildfire. “What about one last piece of inspiration?” Suddenly he was close, so close, too close, as his hand pressed flat along your spine. You felt like your eyelashes should be tangling with his at this distance.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to one lasting image.”

When he kissed you, it was like every late night drive, every trip to the fair, every roof at midnight, every shared milkshake rolled into one. It was everything you could have wanted. It was everything you could have imagined.

You kissed and kissed until you felt senseless, until you were pressed against the front door.

“Peter,” you paused, pressing your hands against his toned shoulders. “I know, you have to write.” He pressed a few more kisses to your cheeks and even one chaste one to your neck before he backed away. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll call you the second I finish,” you promised. He pressed one last kiss to your waiting smile before you fumbled to open the door, feeling like you were seconds from exploding. You dashed up the stairs and to your desk, opening your laptop immediately.

You began to type immediately, finding that you have all too much to say.

TAG LIST

@kawaiitickles @evenmyphonemissesyourcall94 @clean-and-claire @manyfandomstohandle @tiny-friggin-human @anastasiaannaa @1022bridgetp

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagines #marvel imagines

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vintagemichelle91 · 7 years

Text

A Little Lesson in Getting Lost

Authors’ Note: Happy Saturday dear readers! I hope all is well! Thank you for all your sweet messages to me they meant a lot! Feels good to come back with Rafael and Natalia! @rauliskafan and I wanted to do something special for @xemopeachx who has been such a great support and for doing such fabulous videos for us! Truly we are so grateful Amanda!! Thank you for all that you do in the fandom and we hope you and all our other readers enjoy this first part of the little lesson!!!

Natalia twiddled her thumbs as Rafael kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. In light of their lives, the car seemed so strangely quiet, and she knew that it was going to be something of a challenge to get used to the peacefulness. No giggles for a few days or synchronized cries or Violetta’s booming voice harmonizing with Ashtonja’s. Just silence. Best to savor it.

And yet…

“You think the girls will be okay with your parents?” Rafael asked, glancing at Natalia.

“I hope so,” she said softly.

“First time leaving the twins,” he murmured. “You really didn’t want to put Holly down.”

“No,” she agreed, shaking her head. “But I… I mean they will have a wonderful time at the beach. Especially our sweet pea and Ash…”

“Looks like the nickname is sticking,” he observed.

“Looks like,” she echoed with a sigh and placed her hand on his forearm. For her husband’s sake, she did not want to do anything to add to his nervousness... the anxiety of his suspension that led Maggie to suggest the weekend getaway…

“You know how much they love the water,” Natalia continued.

“Only chance I get these days to make like I’m in a courtroom,” he said, the steering wheel circling in his grip as he narrowed his eyes in the direction of the dashboard. “Have to use all my skills of my persuasion to bring an end to tubby time. Wonder how Trevor will fare on that front.”

“Don’t be mean,” Natalia gently chided, her fingers gliding down the length of his arm.

“Of course not,” he said. “But let’s not be surprised if we come home to find that our muñequita has fixed it so that the super spy shudders at the thought of even leaving his own bath ever again.”

Laughing, Natalia made a mental note to call her parents later, a small part of her certain that Rafael was on the course to being proven right.

“No doubt about it; Violetta has definitely learned to state her case from the best in the business.”

“Although I’m on hiatus,” he sighed heavily.

“Atticus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to---”

“No worries,” he said, stretching sideways to kiss her cheek and tapping his fingers against the wheel.

“So maybe there’s hope for her applying to Harvard?” he asked, obviously wanting and needing to change to subject.

“You would love that,” Natalia replied with a knowing smile.

Rafael’s eyebrow quirked in amusement. “Only a little too much. No question that Violetta has the chops, the charm, the smarts… naturally I’ll support whatever she chooses to do.”

“But her choosing Harvard would be the icing on the cake.” It wasn’t a question; it was a fact of which Natalia was well aware.

“Of course,” Rafael stated with a smirk appearing on the corners of his lips.

“Just don’t let any of them grow up too fast,” Natalia said as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I love the way our lives are right at this moment.”

Rafael said nothing and simply kissed the top of her head by way of a response.

“I think this is a good place to stop, don’t you, hermosa?” Rafael pulled into a diner just down the road near a gas station. “We can refuel… and the car will thank us.”

Natalia laughed and nodded in agreement, smiling at the smell of buttermilk pancakes wafting through the air. “You brought the witty jokes along for the trip, too?”

“Always.” Rafael gently took hold of Natalia’s waist and kissed her hair sweetly. This was what they needed in the wake of recent events. Still, he could not shake every shred of tension away. Too many things still hanging in the air… some things he had yet to tell his wife…

Nuzzling his cheek, Natalia smiled. “I’m so glad that you did. After all, your wit was what caught my attention in the first place.”

Rafael’s brow arched in question, his smirk never faltering. “Really? Even when I---?”

“Even when you were being kind of an ass about it. Yes; even then, Atticus.” Natalia interrupted him with a kiss that he wished would last forever. Their lips lingered against each other as they savored the moment where they might have been the only two people on the planet only needed in the taste of the kiss...

…but said moment was broken by the sound of Natalia’s stomach growling.

“Someone’s hungry,” Rafael laughed as he led her into the diner.

“I did skip breakfast,” Natalia said as a smile graced her pink lips. “And the smell of those pancakes is to die for!”

“The we must rectify this matter. After you.” Rafael held open the door and watched as Natalia made her way inside with a giddy glee. How young she looked in that split second. Sometimes he forgot that he almost had ten years on her. That she was never going to catch up and he would always be ahead but still at the losing end of time’s race…

Letting that thought fall away, he joined her in the booth.

“What are you going to have?” Natalia asked. She saw that he kept skimming through his menu, occasionally scowling and muttering in Spanish. “Everything okay?” She set her menu aside and gave him her full attention.

Rafael snapped out of his reverie and took a sip from his coffee mug. “All fine. Think I’ll just have what you’re having.”

Natalia nodded. “Even if I add a mountain of blueberries?”

“Minus that,” Rafael replied as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Natalia nodded and glanced out the window. The day was slowly rolling into late afternoon, and she was a little worried that they still had a long way to go. But she didn’t want to mention that now. She wanted to eat in peace. Add to that she’d only been to Vermont one other time and never by car. A long leisurely drive sounded nothing but lovely.

“Out of blueberries?” Natalia frowned, echoing the waitress’ statement and opting to settle for basic buttermilk.

“Don’t look so sad, hermosa,” Rafael said as the woman wearing the checkered apron came and went with another pot of coffee.

“You’re right.”

Holding his hand as they talked, she felt the tension in his wrist creeping up his arm, and she finally met his eyes.

“Atticus, something is on your mind,” she said.

“That isn’t a question,” Rafael shot back.

“No, it’s a fact,” she replied in a sweet yet stern voice, the voice she would use with her students when they decided to disobey the rules of the classroom.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Just feel bad about the blueberries.” His smirk widened, and Natalia laughed.

“Don’t worry about that; I’m fine as long as I have you.”

Switching around to his side of the booth, she cuddled in his arms, the feel of his blazer and the beat of his heart warm against her cheek. The sound of a small child, maybe no more than two, laughing as he or she made a mess with a bowl of oatmeal caused them both to catch their breaths.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have---”

“It’s just for three days,” Rafael said, kissing her temple. “And you need this, too. Even with Ash’s help, you look tired more often than not.

The older girl was a godsend. And yet…

“You’re right,” Natalia agreed, just leaving his side to sit of and trace her slim finger around the rim of her coffee mug. The trip was more than welcomed. “But I… I don’t want you to be stressed or tense either.”

“I’m not. I---”

“Atticus.”

She lifted one eyebrow and saw him blush as he slipped further back into his seat.

“Possibly,” he said. “This deal with Cutter… the not knowing… and…”

“Let’s just relax this weekend and forget for a bit,” Natalia suggested, taking his hand and making him smile.

“I am willing to try, hermosa.”

“Rafael, this is not the right way… according to the GPS---” Natalia attempted to reason with her husband him as he took a sudden U-turn and headed back the way they came.

“It clearly said to make a right,” Rafael argued back with a sigh.

Natalia made a note to double check if he had a point, but the directions clearly indicated to make a right at the next turn down the road. “No, it meant the next exit…” She chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to keep herself calm. At this rate, they were definitely going to arrive at the bed and breakfast far later than they had originally calculated.

Should they just turn back and head home for the city?

Rafael muttered something under his breath as the car began to slow down in the middle of the road. Natalia distinctly heard a bang coming from the car, and her heart dropped.

“What was that?” she nervously asked. No. Fate would not be so cruel to make this the cherry on top of their road trip. Ever since the absence of blueberries, nothing had seemed to really go right. And now their car was breaking down just as the sun was beginning to set.

“No, no… mierda!” Rafael snapped as he struggled to pull the car on the side of the road.

“I am not going to say it…”

“Please don’t, Natalia…” Rafael unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car without even looking at her.

Taking a deep breath, Natalia counted to ten. Somehow, she had a hunch that letting him drive the rest of the way was a bad idea. He still looked tired after three cups of coffee at the diner. And even then, seeing him so stressed stilled her tongue. What was wrong? First the menu at the diner, then the GPS, and now this...

“Rafael, calm down,” Natalia said as she pulled out her phone to check for a signal and call a tow truck.

“We can’t just stay here!” Rafael lifted the hood of the car and looked down.

“You know how to fix it?” she asked.

He tinkered around for a few moments before slamming the hood shut.

“What do you think?” he challenged.

“No,” Natalia admitted as she slipped the slim device in her back pocket and rolled up her sleeves to see what was going on. “But we’re going to have to figure this out because I have no signal, and I’ll bet your phone doesn’t have one either.”

“Since when do you know about cars?” Rafael’s challenged.

“My father… Nathaniel figured that I ought to know the basics should a moment like this ever arise.” Natalia leaned in and inspected each part with an enormous amount of concentration.

“And now the moment has come,” he remarked. “Wonderful.”

“Can you please be quiet for a second?”

She heard him stop and felt him step aside as she examined the inner workings of the vehicle and slowly looked to him again.

“I think it’s just over heated,” Natalia said, standing upright and dusting her hands off. “There’s a jug of water in the trunk.”

“When did you pack that?” Rafael questioned as if she was a defense lawyer pulling out a surprise piece of evidence without warning.

“When you were trying to renegotiate the price with the car rental company.” Natalia said as she threw her head back and rolled her eyes.

“I will be giving them a call tonight,” Rafael grumbled as he made his way towards the trunk to get the water. Once he had the jug in hand, he looked inside the car again, obviously unsure of his next move, and Natalia snatched the water for herself.

“It’s the coolant reservoir tank,” she said. “I got it.”

“Are you so sure that that’s---?”

“Just try to start the car now.”

Groaning, Rafael returned to the place behind the wheel. After two attempts at turning the engine over, the car came to life and Natalia returned the jug to the trunk before sitting at his side once more.

“All good,” she said. “Would you like me to drive a little, Atticus?”

“No,” he said, his voice thick as his foot hit the gas. “I can get us there is one piece. Or don’t you believe that?”

“Of course I do, Atticus,” she insisted.

“But you just had to pack the water. Because you knew I’d screw things up.”

She almost touched his cheek when he flinched. Even the twins weren’t this fussy. And here was this grown man that she had married acting out like the worst kind of infant, the worst sort of boy because she had bested him at something.

“You are being ridiculous, Rafael.”

She said nothing else. Not to him directly at least. She simply read off the GPS directions, and to his credit he did follow each and every single step to the letter.

But the ice was nowhere near thawing when they arrived at their destination.

#rafael barba #law and order svu #raúl esparza #svu fanfiction #natalia barba #raul esparza #Rafael Barba/OC #a hard lesson series

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